#exposed to the mercy of another

[obey-my-twisted-logic]

Soothing what Remains : after avoiding the Pomefiore Dormleader like the plague since you learned of him, you can avoid him no longer. Vil Schoenheit, the most beautiful man you'd met or seen in the entirety of your life, had you alone in a room in Ramshackle Dorm. Platonic!Vil Schoenheit x GN!Reader

Synopsis : He had you take him personally to his guest room during his stay while he leads the training camp for the SDC. As their manager, he needs a word with you. The Fairest of them All is very aware that you've been avoiding him.

Warnings : eating disorder mentioned briefly. There is self harm mentioned and discovery. A lot of hidden scars are revealed. Gentle platonic touching. Difficult confession and a softer side unknown to the reader. Mild cursing and self degradation. Comfort but not coddling. General spoilers of the game up to the beginning to the middle of Book 5 in the game Twisted Wonderland, but the focus is not on the game. Everyone involved is over 21 years of age. Anything in italics is from Vil's point of view.

Author's Note : Vil has a special place in my heart. While beauty and self confidence are extraordinarily important, he's not incessantly cruel or heartless. At least not in my head canons, and based on what I've read and understood from the game. Very personal piece to myself, as someone who has struggled desperately with self harm. Edit - this really got away and personal for me, I hope you enjoy it

---

You escort Vil to his room. His confiscation of the treats from his troupe of dancers fresh in your mind. There was sympathy but despite it all, he hadn't been overly cruel about it and wasn't exactly wrong about why he did so. Still it was a shame you couldn't share the treats Trey had sent. Thankfully he wasn't forcing this new "lifestyle" on you or Grim. Your struggle with food was dark enough, and dealing with Grim would have been infinitely worse.

"So this will be your room specifically-" your explanation cut off by the harsh shutting of the room's door. "What was that about?" You asked, trying to hide you annoyance, despite it being evident in your look.

He did bow his head apologetically. "I closed the door a touch harder than intended, however I do require a bit of a ... chat with you." He said as he took a seat on the bed, poised and legs crossed elegantly. "Tell me little potato, why do you avoid me so much?" His gaze caught your own, seeming to just see straight through you.

"If I was avoiding you I wouldn't allow you to stay in my home." You replied, however it was evident that you were avoiding his gaze.

"I may be pretty Sweet Potato, but that doesn't make me dumb." He cut your excuses off with a click of his tongue, smoothing his forehead as the annoyance crossed his delicate features once again.

"Of course I didn't notice in the beginning. You a trouble making first year, and magicless to boot, and I the Housewarden of Pomefoire. We were not two people who would join face to face often, or really at all." He paused, eyes tracing over your form, an unexplainable look on his face, like he was lost in your form and how you became a part of his life.

"With each 'incident' " Vil resumed, referring to the Overblots. "You became more interesting. Even began to hear professors sincerely sing your praises. Despite your lack of magic, you excelled elsewhere."

"I can't be lazy or lax, headmaster made it quite clear he'll be happy to kick me out." You interrupt. How long had he had an interest in you? Why did it not just fade away? You'd done your best to not stand out otherwise. How did he realize your were actually avoiding him?

"Rook." Vil replied, answering the question you dare not speak out loud. "His interest was different from my own, but he has a habit of... hunting those who catch his eye. And he would cheerfully admit defeat as you used your comrades as a smoke screen to avoid his intrigue." Vil laughed lightly. "Very brave to try and out maneuver Rook. That little trick was your downfall. That's when I knew, yes, the Prefect of Ramshackle Dorm was indeed avoiding me, without a doubt."

"My only question is why?" The Fairest of them All firmly kept your gaze as he questioned your reasoning.

~~~

You look so very uncomfortable with his gaze. Vil couldn't fathom why, he had never done a thing to hurt you, never approached you. You weren't on bad terms with anyone in his dorm. Why did you tremble like a leaf when he his eyes rested on you?

"Your very being terrifies me. You're beautiful, confident, and you take matters into your own hands." You begin, actually trembling. "You've never hurt me, you've never bullied me, but I've been burnt before and you were too beautiful to trust."

Vil absorbs this in and lets you talk. He's not mad, still confused, but you did have real fear, that much he could tell. His eyes widened when you took off your jacket, revealing a dark secret that most wouldn't notice. "Wait-" he began, reaching a hand out and retracting it when you flinched.

Before him you were exposing something deeply personal and dark. To most, it wouldn't stand out much. To a man with a morning, noon and night skin routine, he could see all the faded scars.

"I'm broken and tired, and that was long before I got here." You began, soft voice still trembling slightly, hands running up and down your arms gently, as if reminding yourself of each self inflicted mark, the history of each one and the ragged reminders that marred your pale skin.

"I knew you'd be able to tell right away. Someone as strict as you with appearances? There's no way you wouldn't be able to tell that these were self inflicted." You laughed bitterly. "And this is just what is visible to the polite eye. The thought of anyone but myself knowing terrified me." Fat tears slowly began to slip and your lip trembled as you continued. "The judgment from someone as put together and confident as you would send me back to that dark space, and I'm all ready desperately trying to survive as is." You smiled sadly.

"So yes, thankfully for me, I noticed Rook's strange interest," you laughed quietly. "Call it experience of being hunted back home. Only this time I had friends. I could blend in with my Heartlabyul boys and Grimm. Azul was easy to use as an excuse, working for the lounge, so I always had 3 or more pairs of eyes, especially when I told the Tweels how uncomfortable Rook made me." You paused with a soft smile. "Floyd especially did not take that well, offering to 'squeeze' him. Of course I declined, Rook wasn't cruel or mean, I was just scared."

"Then there was of course Leona. As lazy as he appears, he takes my comfort very seriously, making sure to be around me whenever I needed 'alone time', using it as an excuse to nap either with or near me. So when Rook did show up, he'd be distracted by the sleepy lion, and Ruggie would help me slip away." You were proud to have found such comforting and genuine friends.

"And despite it all, you're here. I couldn't refuse you or Rook. Everyone is so excited about the SDC, how could I ruin that for them when they've done so much for me?" You used both hands and rubbed always the tears trying to regain control of your own emotions.

"Please Vil, please just leave me alone and I'll do my very best for your comfort and for the SDC. Even beyond the SDC, I'll run myself ragged for you. Please I'm begging you, please just leave me alone." You begged, starting to pull the jacket back on.

"Fuck." Was all that escaped Vil's pursed lips as he pulled you into an embrace, gently rubbing circles on your back with his left palm. "No. I refuse. I won't let you keep carrying your burden alone. I won't STOP bothering you until you see how strong and beautiful you are." He felt your flinch, but what he felt more were your tears as you pressed your face against his chest gently sobbing.

"You won't be alone with your thoughts anymore. I cannot share or bare your burden, but I can ease the affect it has on you. I can be here, I can pamper you, I can listen," he listed off everything he could think of, wanting to assure your comfort. "Sweet Potato, you're more beautiful then you know." He gently ran his hand over a still exposed scar, near invisible with time, but he knew skin better than most. "Each one is a sad story, with a beautiful ending. You survived Sweet Potato. Each is a badge of survival, and you deserved to survive." He assure you as he brushed away tears that he could.

"But you'll never need to hurt yourself again. I will make sure of it." He finished, closing his eyes and resting his cheek on the top of your head, gently humming a gentle soft sound as you both stood there embracing, letting this new feeling and friendship sink in.

[ahmedaldani22]

A new year under a tent and illness haunts me⛺🎆💔

With every new year🎆, people wish for new dreams and celebrate their hopes🕺. But for me, here in Gaza🍉 New Year's Eve🎆 is just another day in our dilapidated tent⛺💔 that has become my home and my family's since we were displaced ten months ago due to the bombing. We are eight people living in this small tent⛺😞, trying to protect ourselves from the cold that bites our bones and the winds that almost tear off our temporary roof.🥶💔

I am 15 years old, and my suffering is not only from poverty and homelessness, but also from the constant pain that accompanies me due to deformities in my teeth🦷. When I was born🫄, my mother was exposed to inhaling phosphorus gas🧨 during the 2008 war, which caused me to suffer from genetic deformities. My teeth didn't grow normally🦷💔, and I have difficulty eating and even smiling every day.😭🥹

The doctors told me that the only solution is to get dental implants🩺🦷, but it is very expensive💰, and requires traveling outside Gaza. The cost of the operation is about 1000 euros💶 for each tooth🦷, in addition to the cost of travel and accommodation✈️, which is a very large amount for my family who don't even have enough money to secure our basic needs.💰💔

A year has passed and we have been dreaming of a home that will shelter us🏢, and of a treatment that will end my pain💊. I want nothing more than to live like any normal child🧑‍💼, to smile without fear of other people's looks🥺, and to start a new year without this suffering🥹🎆.

I appeal to all merciful hearts😞 to help me achieve this dream❤️🙏. Every contribution, no matter how small, can be a lifeline for me and my family. Help me overcome my pain and build a better future. 🙏🥹

Every help, even if it's a small amount, means a lot to me and my family.❤️🙏🥹

Happy New Year my friends

I ask you, my friends, to re-share the post.

@batmanego @pitbolshevik@sealsdaily @haootia @skinwretch @treesbian @pollocksbollocks @rocksnstars @toiletpotato @pisshandkerchief @emiko-matsui @longseasons @wis-art @beserkerjewel @wolf-tail @omegaversereloaded @wolfertinger666 @a-shade-of-blue @because-im-freaking-greed @yekkes @postanagramgenerator @feluka @punkeropercyjackson @redbuddi @strange-aelurus @chanafehs @nabulsi @flower-tea-fairies @dlxxv-vetted-donations @turtletoria @valtsv @annabelle--cane @anneemay @tamamita @prinnay @prisonhannibal @pcktknife @wolfertinger666 @ot3 @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @paper-mario-wiki @komsomolka @neechees @punkitt-is-here @vampiricvenus @ankle-beez @autisticmudkip @batmananimated @catnapdreams @mushroomjar

[embbarnes]

More filthy Logan thoughts. 18+ Minors DNI. I have no chill. Warnings for typical smut stuff. Hoping to have more fics out soon, in the meantime, enjoy snippets from my brain like these.

Dude. This man would be so insane between your legs.

Sloppy laps and eager suckling, your poor cunt stands no chance. He loves when you whine and squirm too, that deep chuckle against your wet folds as he feels you bucking to try to relieve some of his licks and his arms wrap around your legs, holding your hips in place and trapping you.

"Oh no, you're not goin' anywhere, princess." he growls, his lips turning into a savage grin, his lips and chin soaked in your juices. "I'm gonna have my fill, and you're gonna be a good girl and sit still for me. S'not like you can go anywhere..." he chuckles and watches how your eyes widen and cheeks darken before he dives back in.

Those delicious, beautiful sounds fill the room, your begging and whining are such a turn on for him. He wraps his lips around your throbbing clit and sucks it until it bruises so good, you are a crying mess. Those big tears streak down your red cheeks as you cry for him in ecstasy for the third, fourth, fifth??

You don't even know anymore.

All you know right now is your body is on fire and it feels like the pleasure has consumed you.

It expands to your toes and fingertips, they feel white hot just like your clit and it was such an overwhelming and amazing feeling. His tongue and lips still worked your cunt, he growled against you as he felt your poor pussy cream another orgasm, dripping and soaking the sheets below you.

"Ah, such a messy girl, aren't ya..." he pulled away finally, his breath hot against your core and he laid a sloppy kiss on your clit. Your brow furrowed and your mouth opened as you cried out, nearly cumming again.

He flips you onto your belly swiftly, landing a smack to your ass that makes you yelp and whimper below him. He spreads you open, your embarrassment of being exposed in such a manner made you gasp and whimper loudly.

"Look at that...so pretty. Such a pretty thing you have. You want me there don't you? Is this what you need...hm? You need me right....here?" He pokes the spongy tip of his throbbing cock against your silken folds. You cry out and try to push back on him but he pulls himself away from your greedy hole.

"So impatient...what do you say?" he teases, that damn smirk on his face. He knows how to make you a mess and he relishes in it. Those pretty tears still falling down your face as you held back the urge to literally beg him for his cock. You would've began babbling at that point, you were so desperate for him, you could barely register his words.

"P-Please..." you croaked, your body was shaking, god you needed him so fucking bad.

He could tell you were so desperate for him, you were trembling below him and he was feeling quite merciful today. "Shh, alright princess, it's okay," that gruff voice had a smile to it and you didn't even have to look back to see it. His hand reached around and he wiped your cheek before he leaned back. He had the biggest, shit eating grin spread as he rubbed his cock against your hot, throbbing sex.

"I've got just what you need. I'll make it all better..."

Bye ✌🏻

[reignpage]

Art Student!Choso

Classicism : practice strokes

Contents: 18+ mdni, pure smut, sub!choso, teasing, edging, handjob, tit sucking, morally questionable reader?

Things have taken an unexpected turn. 

When you were assigned project partners with Choso, the mysterious yet popular emo boy in your class, you hadn’t expected to become good friends. Especially since he rarely attended lectures or classes, and was so reserved you actually thought he hated you. 

But now, here you are, at his apartment (again) but this time you’re stripping in front of him. 

His place is nice, really nice, much nicer than any normal student's. Though, Choso isn’t normal, you suppose. He’s a member of one of the richest families in the country. You sure are jealous. The ceilings are tall, the exposed bricks add rough contrast to the polished wooden floors and to the metal beams hanging overhead. There are numerous artworks in his place, some hung up, but most on the floor, not discarded per se, but rather simply kept out of the way. 

The first thing that caught your eye is a huge canvas, half obscured by a large fabric, all wrinkled as if it had been hastily thrown over it. All you can see are red and purple strokes in the corner, disappearing under the blanket. It wasn’t there last time you were here.

“Please, make yourself comfortable,” Choso awkward mumbles. He rushes off to the kitchen and pours both of you a cup of water, and you take it from him with a smile. 

Then you settle yourself on the floor, sitting by the coffee table a couple metres from his bed. There aren’t any chairs, you noticed. Just a rug. It’s comfortable and plush so you don’t mind. 

Apart from the king sized bed made up of black sheets, the coffee table and the various canvas and paint tins, his place is bare. It’s so totally Choso you can’t help but grin. 

He sits in front of you, crossed legged, his jeans ripped and his black shirt baggy, just as distressed all his other clothes. You’ve gotten so used to his face, it’s easy to see past the huge tattoo crossing his nose. On anyone else, you’d wince, but on him, he just looks adorable. You wonder if he has any other tattoos. He certainly has piercings, lots on his ears. And you’ve caught him waiting outside Uzumaki for his friend, who you know is Geto because your friend writes about him a lot.

All the students go to his place for tattoos and piercings, and sometimes not even that; some guys like to go to be seen near him for the clout, and some girls hope to catch sight of him. 

You’ve seen him around and he’s certainly good looking. And the things you’ve read on the Bulletin, the gossip page, makes him a sexy enigma, for sure. But you’ve never been quite as curious about him as you are of Choso. 

Your friend says Choso is rarely ever seen with another girl; he likes to keep to himself. And on her Insider’s Line, there’s never been any confessions of a 'fun time' with the man. In fact, there are actually rumours he might be a virgin. She’s implored you to ask but you could never. 

“So,” you elongate, stretching out on the carpet, “should we get right into it?”

He blushes, nodding. “Do I go first?”

“Do you want to go first?” You fire back quickly. 

He’s chewing the inside of his cheek, eyes looking anywhere but at you, and it's clear he’s shy and embarrassed. This must be just as new to him as it is for you. Feeling merciful, you offer a compromise. 

“How about,” you’re grinning now and his eyes flicker to you, “we do it at the same time?”

Choso gulps. 

“At the same time?”

You laugh, getting up on your knees and leaning over the coffee table to watch him lean back like he might disintegrate if you touch him. What a silly man. 

Hands sliding to the hem of your shirt, you trace the edge, pinching it up to tease a sliver of skin. His eyes are drawn to the movement and your grin widens when he subconsciously leans forward. 

“Let’s both undress and even the playing field. What do you think, Choso?”

Oh, and how Choso hates the way you say his name. You always emphasise every syllable, every letter, with a musical cadence that often leaves him lightheaded. It’s like you know the effect it has on him and you’re determined to make him cave, to embarrass himself. 

He nods, getting up on his knees too, and matching your movements. You both lift your shirts over your head and his eyes are following the material as it slides up and up over your body to reveal a lacy bra. It’s black. Oh, he might just pass out. 

You’re desperately trying not to laugh; Choso’s so entranced with every inch of your skin, you don’t even think he knows he’s licking his lips. But, in his defence, you’re probably not much better. 

Choso is hot. 

Sure, you’ve never thought he was ugly, but he’s always been adorable -- the shy and introverted friend you just can’t help but tease. Looking at him now, though, you realise why Choso’s high up on the List, why, despite being so inaccessible, the girls seek him out. 

His body is lean but chiselled with well-defined abs that look sharp, so sharp you could cut yourself in your exploration. Throwing his shirt over his head, you watch his muscles ripple, tensing and flexing in a way that makes you curious to see how it feels beneath your hands. 

With a gulp, you stand, giggling at the way his head snaps up like he’s worried you’re going to leave. Shaking your head slightly, you reach out a hand to him. He eyes it for a moment before he places his own on top of yours. You pull him up. 

You hope you’re doing a good job of looking reassuring as you unbutton your jeans and slide it down your legs. Hope that you aren’t going too fast — you really don’t want to spook him.

Choso follows suit, kicking his jeans to the side and standing before you in just his black, Calvin Kleins boxers. His thighs are toned and smooth, there’s no doubt in your mind that they’d feel great between your legs. 

Slightly more clothed than him, you stand in your matching lace panties and bra. For reasons you don’t really want to get into, you had been sure to be shaved, waxed and cleansed thoroughly before showing up at his door. Thank goodness for younger you. 

You’re both sweeping your eyes over each other, you with respect for his hard work, and him with something much more lewd. Lips are slightly parted, eyes are darkening and his hands quiver, opening and closing. He wants you. And he wants you bad. 

Why not have a little fun?

Taking both of you by surprise, you’re rounding the table and he’s rooted to his spot, uncertain of what you’re about to do. The poor boy looks terrified. But you try to soothe him with a small smile, reaching a hand out once you’re near and placing it on his chest.

The muscle there flexes like a reflex and you hear his sharp intake of air. You’re so close you can feel his heat, feel every tremor running through his body, and you won’t lie, it’s setting your own alight. 

Wordlessly, you slide that hand down at the slowest pace possible, enjoying thoroughly the feel of his hard body. Perhaps that’s why he doesn’t show up to most classes; he’s too busy in the gym. How bad of him. 

And when your finger tips reach the top of his boxers, following the line as it hugs his hips so perfectly, your eyes meet. 

You look so devilish Choso can only gulp, fearing what you’re going to do next. He’s aware you’ve got him in the palm of your hand, toying with him and pushing his buttons, but he doesn’t care. He gives not a single fuck that his stupid cousin would make fun of him endlessly if he knew that he’s shaking like a leaf just cause a girl’s standing in front of him half-naked. 

His hips jerk when your forefinger hooks over the band. 

“Should we take this off?” Your voice is so sultry, he feels like he’s meeting Venus of Urbino in the flesh. “Hmm? Choso?”

There it is. 

The exaggerated movement of your lips and the way you cock your head in question, fluttering your lashes. He’s so hard it’s actually painful, he feels his dick strain against the material, no doubt leaking a wet spot. This is too much, too embarrassing. He can’t move, can’t answer, can't even think with the way his heart is beating so fast.

Can you hear it?

Is it turning you off? Or is it fuelling you?

You already know about the hard time he’s having, pun intended. You saw it through his jeans as soon as you walked into his apartment. And as you stand before him, almost pressed right to his front, you can feel his hardness. 

When he doesn’t say a thing, you smile comfortingly again and hook all your fingers over the band, pulling down just a little and watching his expression for any sign he doesn’t want this. But there’s none. If anything he looks like he’d cum from just the wind alone. 

And there’s no denying that you are almost just as excited as he is. Your nipples are scraping the lace of your cups, poking through, and you can see his eyes darting between them, like he can’t choose a favourite.

Between your legs, you’re sure you’ve soaked your panties. And you feel a certain urge to show him just how wet he’s made you. But that’s a reward, and he’ll have to earn that.

“Choso?”

Through the haze, he hears you call his name, like a siren, leading him deeper into the pleasure. There's no resistance at all when you tug him closer with just your voice. He’s only a man, what strength could he gather to resist you?

He gulps. “Y-yes?”

You flutter your lashes at him again and stand on your tiptoes, grazing his chest with your nipples and he shivers from the feeling of them scraping his bare chest through the lace of your bra. Whispering in his ear, cheeks brushing against each other, you say, “Keep your eyes on me.”

Just as he pushes out the words ‘I will, I promise’, you fall to your knees, dragging his underwear with you and his rock hard cock breezes past your face, leaving a trail of wetness. 

Your jaw slacks. 

Your project partner is packing. 

His dick is just as pretty as he is --so long, clean shaven and thick enough to leave your mouth watering. But you won’t taste him. He needs to earn that, too. And so far, you’re both already behind on your little assignment. 

Unhurriedly, you skim your fingers up and down his thighs, transfixed on the way they shake, just barely, almost imperceptibly. But of course, you'd notice. You're pressed so close, just the warmth of your breath makes his cock bounce. And then you’re looking up at him from down there, face just below his erect cock and he swears you’re Lilith, sent from above to drag him below. 

And what a way to go, he thinks.

Then, with grace, you’re pulling away, keeping eye contact, and crawling back on the rug, feeling the fibres tickle your skin. You’re lying there, legs bent and resting on your forearms with a playful sparkle in your eyes. 

You lift your foot and run it up his calves, and back down again. Choso’s watching every move like it’ll be on an exam, like it’s life or death, and with the way his cock is throbbing so painfully, it feels like it is. He’s breathing so heavily and he doesn’t even realise he’s running out of air, not until you’re spreading your legs with an impish smile and he sees the wet patch on your panties. 

“Won’t you take my mine off?” There’s laughter in your words and it’s the sweetest melody he’s ever heard. “Please, Cho?”

He falls to his knees, a man succumbing to worship, compelled by the beauty he sees before him. You’re a saint, carved by Bernini, and he’s stolen you from Cornaro Chapel. He’ll bear the consequences, every punishment in the world, to stay like this, to bask in the divine love he’s become overwhelmed with. 

You don’t need to say anything more. 

Choso’s already crawling towards you, gaze fixed between your legs. He wants to feel you, to taste, and see and hear and commit everything to memory. If he could capture this moment, this sight, in a canvas then he’d slave away at an easel for eternity. 

Cooing, you lift his chin with a finger. “Cho, you’re not just going to stare forever, are you?”

He shakes his head vehemently. 

“Then take it off for me, please.”

And he does. 

His hands are shaking, running up your thighs, over your hips and then under the flimsy fabric, pulling and pulling until it’s dangling from one ankle. It tickles you, like electricity sparking over your skin. Choso presses his face to your foot, moaning the contrast of the smooth skin there with the scratch of the lace, and he’s inhaling, nose pressed to the fabric.

You should be mortified, should be embarrassed, but you can’t find it in you. Instead, you’re simply oozing more wetness, staining the rug underneath. You rest your ankle on his shoulder and tap him. 

“Not just my panties, Cho,” you remind him. 

He blushes. 

With clumsy shuffles, he’s hovering above you, casting a shadow and he hates it. He wants to see you in clear view, every part of you, unobscured by anything ever again. Still, he makes do with the natural radiance you’re emitting, and he clasps your ribs, hands splayed over your sides, thumbs just below the plumpness of your breast. He lifts you with question in his eyes.

You help him out, arching your back so he can curve one hand and pop the clasps open. And then he’s sliding down the cups until you’re all bare and pretty for him. 

He’s frozen, eyes roving all over your body in a panic. He doesn’t know where to look, doesn’t want to miss a thing, doesn’t want to make one part of you jealous. He looks frantic and you have to hold his face steady and bring him closer. 

“It’s okay, Cho. I’m not going anywhere.”

Choso inhales and then exhales, soothed by the coolness of your palms and your scent. He knows what he wants now; he daydreams about it in class, watching you answer questions or mouth jokes to him from across the room, noticing every quirk and twitch of this beautiful lips of yours. He wants to kiss you. 

You giggle when he leans in. 

“Choso, I think you’re forgetting why we’re here in the first place, you silly boy!”

He blinks. 

Like a cartoon character, you can hear each plink-plink as he looks at you in confusion. Yep, he’s definitely forgotten about the assignment.

There’s a devastated look marring his face and he’s pouting when you sit up. He pouts even harder when you instruct him to grab his sketchpad and get to drawing. 

“How do you want me?”

Choso glares at the paper like it’s his worst enemy. On my face riding me until we both cum.

He has no idea where that thought came from. It’s a foreign concept but feels so familiar. He doesn’t dare voice it out loud though, instead he mutters ‘just as you are’, and gets settled on the rug. 

And if his cousin knew that he has a girl fully naked and wet for him right there in his room and he’s sat clasping a pencil instead of his dick, he’d never live down the humiliation. 

But what does he know?

Most of the action he’s been getting is through text messages, popping boners during family dinners from a scolding he receives from a girl who has no idea of the effect her words have on her vice president. 

Maybe, if he makes fun of him again, he'll just tell her. 

“Choso, angle your head just slightly towards me, please.”

And he hates the conversational tone your voice has taken, like he’s back in class. But he does as he’s told, shifting every time you ask, and he scribbles, lead gliding across the paper as he follows every curve of your body with his eyes. If every class was like this, he’d actually come, he thought. But thank goodness it isn't; how would his dick ever survive?

For an hour, you sit in relative silence, just the sound of scratching and occasional humming filling the space. It’s a peaceful sort of quiet, the one he doesn’t mind staying in, one he could get lost within. 

You’re lying on your stomach, feet kicking and hair draped over your shoulders. Your ass looks so soft, like marshmallows, and your breasts are pressed against the rug, and not in his face, and he thinks it’s a tragedy. 

He feels like Icarus, having flown so near to everything he’s ever wanted, only to plummet to the ground never having even touched or tasted. Instead of melted wax and feathers, all he has is a leaking dick that you don't even look at.

Yet, he isn't softening at all.

Eventually, you turn to look at him, studying his features for reasons that have nothing to do with drawing. Choso’s still pouting, scratching the paper sometimes a little too hard, and the poor pencil looks like it’s about to break in his fist. 

You feel bad for the sweet little guy. 

So hard, leaking and weeping at the tip, and he isn't touching himself. He's so good at following instructions you just have to reward him.

You push up and slither over unseen -- he's still glaring at his sketchpad -- nudging the book off his lap and grinning up at him. You're doing this for him and definitely not for your soaking pussy.

Choso gulps. 

You’ve played with him too much, he can’t trust that gleam in your eyes and the curl of your lips. So he stays still again, content to watch you do as you please with him. 

“Have I been bad to you, Cho?”

He shakes his head, but he’s nodding internally. You’ve been so bad to him, so mean, ignoring the way his cock jerks when your eyes meet his. But he could never be mad at you, he’s so sure, he's willing to bet everything on it. 

“Should I help you out, you poor baby?”

You’re mocking him again. He knows it. But God, does he love the sound of you tearing him down. He wants you to call him 'Cho' and 'baby', and everything else you'd like. He just wants you to call for him, to only look at him amongst a gallery of Michelangelos, to see him and only him. 

Choso nods, desperate for anything. 

And you lean in to press a chaste kiss on his lips. He blinks again and then chases after you but you’re already going down. There’s nothing for him to do except to stretch his legs out, caging your body, and to lean back on his hands. He doesn’t dare say a word, knows better than to interrupt a Master at work.

You’re eyeing his dick and you’re enamoured with every vein. His cock head is raging and leaking pathetically, and your hands wrap around as much of his length as you can to soothe it. At the first touch, Choso bites his lip to stifle a whimper. Your hands are cold.

It burns him.

But then you're rubbing up and down at a slow pace as if basking in the feeling. Again and again, you go up and then down, twisting and turning your wrist when you reach his head.

"Fuck! Y/n, please!" He breathes out when you thumb his slit.

You use his pre-cum to lubricate him, going faster when his heavy breathing turns into low moans. “Is this how you like it, Cho?”

He nods furiously. 

"Yes, yes. Thank -ngh- you."

His eyes are closed and you’re upset. So you sit up, hands still jerking up and down, and tap his cheek. 

“I told you keep your eyes on me.”

Did you?

He’s forgotten now. Everything’s a jumbled mess, like an abstract art, taking no shape or form in his mind. It feels so good, your dainty hands are wringing pleasure from him and his balls are tightening. 

You grab his hand and direct it to your tit, and he wastes no time in squeezing and groping. Choso's mouth drops. You're so smooth, so pretty, it's the only thing he ever wants to hold again. His hand covers your entire breast and he’s massaging it like a stress ball, like it’ll help ground him whilst you attack his poor cock. 

"S-so good, God! You're -ha- so pretty, y/n."

When you speed up, he whines, mouth slack and eyes crossing. This is too much, he doesn’t know what to do. His other hand is tugging at the rug, tearing fibres away, and his legs are tensing, muscles cramping but he doesn’t care. 

“Faster -ngh- please!”

You kneel, his hand falling away from your chest to grip your hip. “You’re such a good boy, Cho. Well done for remembering your manners.”

Despite the way his head is reeling, growing lightheaded, he conjures up a shaky smile, so very pleased he’s doing good, for you. And when his eyes open back up — he doesn’t recall closing them — he’s drowning in your tits. 

You've inched forward, tightening your hold on his cock, and pushed your chest in his face. With haste, like a man starved, he sucks on your tit, rolling the nipple with his tongue. It sends spikes of electricity through you. You clench down on nothing and it's such a shame, when his pretty cock is just a couple centimetres from where they should be. Your hand picks up pace and his whines are muffled, sending delicious vibrations down to your clit.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he repeats but the sound is so jumbled you don’t even know what he’s saying or if he’s even saying anything at all.

Choso's trying to devour your breasts, engulfing as much as he can, so distraught he can’t take it all in, so he brands a punishing grip on your hip and you gasp. 

“Are you going to cum, Cho? Are you going to cum for me?”

He can’t answer, doesn’t want to stop tasting the salt of your skin. But he hopes that the intensifying throbbing of his cock provides a good enough response. 

And when your grip on him tightens just as he nibbles on your nipple, thumb pressing hard on his slit, he cums with a whine. He spurts between you, hot liquid landing on both of your chests and all over your hands. It’s opaque and syrupy; you feel regretful you didn’t make him cum in your mouth. You don’t stop jerking him off, intent on milking him for everything he’s worth, and his eyes are rolling back.

It’s too much. 

Your scent, your body, your hands, your cooing in his ear. It pushes him over the edge again and again until his balls are emptier than they’ve ever been, dick lurching and bobbing like he's pushing out phantom spurts, and then he’s falling backwards, taking you down with him.

You both catch your breath, panting under the warm lights of his apartment. You’re sweaty, skin sticking to his, and there’s cum gluing your stomach to his body. There’s the unmistakable smell of sex lingering in the air, and you feel bad that he’s going to have clean up after this, but you press a kiss to his chest, licking away the salt from your lips. 

And then you stand, grabbing your clothes. 

Choso’s still coming down from his high, so lost in everything you’ve had to give him, he doesn’t even register that you're getting dressed until you’re giggling. That sobers him up. 

Pushing himself into an upright position, he wipes the drool from his chin and pouts at you again. 

“Don’t you need to…,” he trails off. He doesn’t know what to say but you get him nonetheless. 

You sport an apologetic expression, “Don’t have time, sorry, Choso. I’m having dinner with my brother and his friend.”

He follows you, thighs complaining with very step, but still pushing through so he can hold you before you go. The feel of your clothes scratching his bare skin is setting him on fire again, but you only press a kiss to his cheek. He tries to nuzzle your neck, arms clinging around you like a koala bear. 

You kiss him on the lips and smile. “I had a good time, Choso. I’ll see you in class, yeah?

He nods.

But Choso doesn’t want to just see you in class, he wants to see you laid out bare beneath him on his bed. It doesn’t even have to be his bed. He just wants to touch and taste again. 

He can’t, though. 

Because you’re already stepping out of his apartment and leaving him. 

Your project partner’s missing you miserably by the time you step out into the street. You wished you had the time to make him make you cum, but that’ll have to wait another day, even if the uncomfortable wetness in your jeans is reminding you exactly why you should stay.

Wait, jeans?

Where are your panties?

Oh, fuck, is your last thought when you get into your car. 

Choso, on the other hand, is already pumping his cock as hard as you were, brain working overtime to recall how exactly you touched him. The way you went slow at first, relishing in the heavy feel of his cock in you head and then quickly ramping up to a rhythm that had him seeing stars faster than nightfall.

His nose is pressed to the soaked gusset of the panties you had left behind. He doesn’t know if you did this on purpose, hell, he doesn’t care. All he can think about is how he at least managed to paint your body with his cum, even if he wished he could cover every inch of your skin. Choso just hopes you'll give him another chance. He'll do so good you'll want him just as bad he wants you.

So happy to have a reminder of you, he promises to cherish your panties every night until he gets to do this again, tasting from the source, or even just having a fresher pair.

You’ve given him a gift, the best gift of his life, and you deserve to be gifted something just as special in return. 

You’ll find this gift on your desk.

And he hopes it makes you just as happy as you’ve made him. 

Because, God, does the memory of you make him so pathetically hard.

[nyursi]

𝐂𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐑!ㅤpart two.

꒰ † ੭‎ㅤNSFW 18+ㅤ(MDNI)...  in a series of successful heists, the infamous cat burglar is finally caught and is left with the mercy of his victims to decide his fate.ㅤノㅤnot proofread.

ᡴꪫ‎ TODAY'S SPECIAL!ㅤdiluc, zhongli, heizou, (part one) alhaitham, dottore, and wriothesley (here, part two)!

WOULD YOU LIKE SPRINKLES? (っω=`)ㅤm!rdr, sensory deprivation, nipple play, sounding, multiple orgasms, cumming untouched, vibrators, office sex, power imbalance, size difference, degradation, and more.

                 ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

THE VALUE OF PAPERWORK...

featuring sensory deprivation, cumming untouched, nipple play, and alhaitham.

your skin was flushed, red on every surface from head to toe. the tight binding around your limbs restricted and chased away any thoughts of trying to escape.

the normal response to this situation would be fear... but why do you feel a tingling sensation down your back?

hard nipples exposed to cold air; and thighs forced open wide for the akademiya's scribe to take in. "what a sight you make, thief."

indeed— in alhaithams eyes you looked quite the feast. the situation was in his hands too, having caught the famous cat burglar attempting to sneak in. luckily he apprehended you quick enough.

just... not in the way you expected.

sure, the usual tying up to prevent movement you saw ahead of you, but the lack of clothing? and the blindfold over your eyes? a shocked noise (alhaitham considered it a whimper) had filled the silence of the room once you felt his rugged palms fondling your exposed, plush thighs.

oddly enough, the sensation was nice. it was the first time you've ever been caressed in such a gentle way that it made you want to melt. (purr, the scribe hoped.)

"mngh..." you bit your lip to muffle any more embarassing sounds to leave your mouth, feeling your limp cock twitch with arousal. everything about you alhaitham found cute; cute ears that twitched at every noise, tail that swayed hypnotizingly, adorable eyes filled with mischief.

it was too bad you were a lowly thief.

if you were trying to steal from him some spare pieces of food, or even money, the scribe would have let you go. but his documents?

he would spare you no mercy.

and thus began the long hours of you being suspended in the air, constantly teased. touches varied from feather light to sudden roughness. but no matter what he did, it all stirred life to the needy pleads of your body.

"don't whine, i'm being nice to you." alhaitham said after a babble of begs reached his ears when yet another orgasm was taken away from you. he kissed your nipple, tenderly, then bit on it and tugged. wanting to hear another wanton moan. "ngh!~" your head threw itself back whilst your legs kicked (as much as they could against restriction.)

hips stuttering once alhaithams free hand ventured downwards close to your twitching hole, too close for your liking. he chuckled feeling the heat between your thighs, but continued past the desperate heat to fondle at your tiny balls.

pre begun to leak down your sensitive shaft, dripping and leaving a small pathetic puddle on the floor. and alhaitham decided to finish it then and there.

"gah!?-" a painful pleasure struck you when he pulled on your hardened nubs, leaving you drooling and squirming. your mind couldn't figure out if you were squirming away or towards the sensation. "nngh! hai- haitham!~"

hips stuttered with every tug on your chest, and alhaitham wished he could see your crossed eyes underneath the blindfold. but the scribe was curious, and wanted to see if you could cum faster.

he began to tug on your tail harshly, while still paying attention to your cute nipples. "nn.. nooo! 'm sensitive!" you wailed, unprepared for the rushing pleasure that travelled all the way down to your cock.

soon enough, the bead of pre on your tip became a string of white, coating both of your chests in a sticky mess.

you'll have to tell the fatui to remind you that alhaitham is very serious about his documents...

                 ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

THE SCIENTIST'S NEW LAB RAT...

featuring vibrators, multiple orgasms, sounding, and dottore (not prime).

how many times already? you've lost count. and the loud buzzing didn't do any help to make you remember anyway.

your plan was simple; get to snezhnaya, sneak past the lowly guards, and somehow snag the doctor's latest creation— a faux gnosis. your client believed it to hold the same celestial power like a true one.

suspicion nagged at the back of your mind when you noticed the lax patrol around dottore's laboratory, and you should've known that he had some sort of contraption so insane that he didn't need any guards.

nonetheless, you shrugged such a situation off.

"a-ahnn!~ hah- wait, no! i can't-" a loud moan ripped from your throat, and a pathetic spurt of semen landed on the floor again.

your wrists and ankles hurt— being held by cold metal for hours wasn't all that pleasant.

a guttural chuckle echoed around the room, laughing at your state. "do you like it? i decided to modify my new security measures when i heard of a certain cat burglar and his plans to take away my precious gnosis." dottore finally entered your vision, circling you like a predator.

the scene of you being captured replayed constantly in his mind. it was too good!

as soon as your feet stepped through the metal door, they triggered a sensor that allowed two cuffs to come out of nowhere and secure your ankles. they were weighted— and the heaviness on your feet caused you to collapse. which allowed the handcuffs to attach itself on your wrists.

so now you were wriggling on the floor, being tortured and teased by various vibrating instruments. you had cum in your pants for the nth time by now, and the vibrators in your ass assaulted your sensitive prostate nonstop.

"can't- don't wanna cum anymooore!~" you whined, body twitching from the extreme pleasure that caused tears in your eyes. all the while dottore thought you could belong to an art exhibit!

footsteps approached. "well, if you say so." dottore had a mischevious grin, as he held out a long beaded rod for you to see. "ngh!?-" suddenly a cold sensation entered your urethra; succesfully blocking any future orgasms.

to make it worse, the doctor had turned all vibrators to max. he could only chuckle when all your sounds echoed off the walls. be it babbles, whines, or squeals, dottore took it all in. "aww," he pet your ears gently— contrast to the harsh movements within you.

in the same rhythm of his hand, dottore moved the sounding rod up and down, with every thrust downwards he pushed it in more, until the biggest bead nestled itself on your tip. and as soon as it did, your toes clenched.

fuck. it touched your prostate.

"gukh!~" your jaw went slack, and an extreme feeling rushed to your red, throbbing, cock.

he could only cackle when not an ounce of cum escaped, maniacal laughter fading when you passed out.

dottore has such exciting plans for his new pretty kitty!

                 ㅤ ⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝꒷۰꒷⏝

METHODS OF DISCIPLINE...

featuring office sex, power imbalance, size difference, and wriothesley.

"i'm innocent! i swear!" you plead as wriothesley dragged you through the halls, the sight of never ending cells made you shiver.

the buff male didn't pay you any mind. continuing to tug at the long metal chain around your neck, leading you to what seems to be his office.

your were wide eyed and fearful, that much wriothesley could tell. hearing that cute little gulp behind him made his cock twitch.

he didn't expect such a famous burglar to be so... cute. everything about you seemed meek now that you were in chains. and the cold steel around your skin wasn't a bad look on you, either.

wriothesley chuckled to himself, shaking his head as you both approached his office. honestly? the sound of his deep laugh was quite nice, despite the initial fear rattling your bones.

"don't lie, boy. i know what you did." he huffed, throwing you onto his desk, and the loud slam of his door made you flinch. in an attempt to be free from future punishment, you scrambled to defend yourself.

"i'm not! i didn't do anythi-" you garbled when the taste of leather invaded your tongue, did he really just shove his fingers in your mouth!? wriothesley already predicted your next move and pinned both wrists above your head.

"ah-ah, lying will make this worse."

a diappointed tsk made you flinch, especially as you felt a pressure on your clothed bulge. you gave him a weak kick to his thigh— and wriothesley couldn't help his rising laughter.

"what's a kitty like you gonna do to me? don't you see how small you are?" with every word he said, wriothesley inched his face closer and closer to yours. until you felt his hot breath fanning your face.

just right when you were gonna talk back, he begun to rub his knee in circles, the feeling was so good that you threw your head back against the desk. "hng!~"

and wriothesley saw an opportunity.

in a quick movement, he leaned down and bit. not so hard to draw blood— but it'll definitely leave a mark. "huh?- wrio!~" your legs instinctively wrapped themselves around his waist, making him put down his knee and grind his hard on against your leaking sex.

bite! "who allowed you to call me that?" he bit just on your collarbone, quickening his thrusts. the slacks around him began to feel small with his growing size— and you just got wetter by the second.

you whined, back arching from the desk. "if you're gonna punish me, get in with it!" kicking your legs in frustration due to wriothesley's endless teasing.

"tsk, how demanding. as you wish." he wasted no time and literally tore your pants apart, ripping a hole that perfectly displayed your whole underside. a cute butt to match a cute dick.

a needy moan left your spit-ridden lips, begging for him to do something. anything.

but wriothesley had already decided your fate; a perfect punishment. denying any orgasm to ever escape you.

vanillaclaws 2024.ㅤdo not repost.

[evilgwrl]

Simon Riley is enamoured by you. All of you. Whether you’re dressed up, your face full of makeup, skin stained with the sickening smell of scented alcohol, burying your natural musk behind hundreds of dollars. Whether you’re fresh out of the shower, the hint of your body wash lingering across your damp body, your hair tied in a messy turban, small droplets falling down exposed skin, the rest being absorbed by your cotton towel.

But he loves you especially when you’re underneath him, completely at his mercy. It shows him that you trust him with every fibre of your being, that you’ll allow him to take you, all of you, without him even asking. He loves the way you look up at him, eyes glossy with unshed tears as you latch onto the muscles of his back, nails digging deep crescents into the ivory of his skin.

He loves the way you practically whimper his name, your lip jutting out with every deep thrust, gummy walls squeezing his member, eyebrows scrunched up as soft wrinkles enfold themselves in your forehead.

Simon loves the way you squeeze your thighs against his ears, almost killing him when he isn’t able to hear those pretty sounds you moan out fully. He loves how responsive you are when his tongue dives into your weeping hole, clit throbbing with anticipation as you near an orgasm.

But Simon thinks he loves you most when you’re lying naked next to him, whispering praise in his ear and professing your love to him, sweaty bodies laced into one as you lap in each others touch, completely fulfilled by one another.

[lilacxquartz]

part 17 of 19 of kinktober: trapped

pyramid head x gn!reader

plot: while exploring the town, you find yourself incapacitated in the worst possible position — themes: warning for non con, dark smut, gender neutral reader, size difference, monster fucking, horror, gender neutral smut — w.c: 700ish

kinktober masterlist • main masterlist • ao3

You were incapacitated.

Trapped in between the barely pried open iron bars, providing just big enough of a gap for your upper body to squeeze through and then… stall. In a way, it was humiliating, but in another sense, it was also terrifying because existing within the town as a whole was a death sentence in its own right. From one little miscalculation—you had potentially doomed yourself.

You tried to dislodge yourself again but the bars were too narrowly placed and you couldn’t push or pull yourself neither back nor forth and in doing so, you only found yourself more stuck than before. Panic quickly swept through your being in violent waves, abandoning all sense of rationality in favour of a hurried escape but nothing was working—but then finally, you heard it—the all too familiar scrape of metal, the thud of staggering footsteps—oh no, no, no… he was here.

You turned your head slightly back to just about catch a glimpse of him filling out the doorway, blocking all gaps of light that otherwise cut into the cell. In an attempt to avoid your flesh likely meeting the blade, you strove to push yourself forward, to at least nullify his efforts to strike you down… but then something else followed suit.

You froze as you felt his calloused hands brush around the soft contours of your exposed flesh; his fingers breaching the torn fabric and tearing away the cloth from the skin, readily exposing you to him. You remained statued in place as you feared for the worst, unable to quite comprehend what he was actually doing to you; almost delicately feeling you up—pushing—spreading your legs apart, ripping away at anything that acted as a barrier between you and him.

You tensed as you quickly understood what was following suit; feeling the tip of something very obvious poke against your most vulnerable parts. You writhed around and squirmed under his grip like a fish out of water, only to remain caught and hooked in his presence, feeling him drive into you in a near hungry pursuit. You gritted your teeth as you felt him force himself inside of you, feeling overwhelmed by his monstrous length that completely filled you out to the brim.

With shuddering, quaking cries, you softly wept as he continued to take in his brutal girth, feeling his cock slide in and out of your insides and stretch you out beyond a recoverable limit. With an unforgiving pace, Pyramid Head continued to hilt himself into your core, feverishly bucking into your body as a radiating, almost scalding pain akin to searing agony settled within the confines of your form. Of course however, he showed you no mercy, pounding into you with a near primal fervour; his hips slamming against your behind with each sawing motion.

Somehow, he grew needier as he continued to violate you—his fingernails digging bleeding crescents into the soft peaks of your ass, kneading against the cushioned skin and spreading you open as far as you could physically handle. It was as if he was trying to force you to accommodate the entire capacity of his impossible length, taking advantage of the limiting position, knowing that you couldn’t just pull yourself away.

Nearing his impending climax; his movements soon became more erratic and maybe even sloppy. He leaned his towering form closer wherever he could press against your bare back—causing the iron bars to crack open further—growling out heated breaths that rolled hot down your spine. Each passing thrust caused for you to shake, prompting you to involuntarily roll your eyes to the back of your head and perhaps even see stars from just how overwhelming it all truly was.

Just as you were about to pass out however, the monster finally came undone with one final violent rut of his stuttering hips. You gasped as you felt a stream of hot oozing warmth fill your senses to such an extent that your stomach nearly bulged from his pent up release.

Thinking it was all over, you tried to close your eyes to recover—but then you were promptly taken out of the cell, readily carried around like a rag doll, to be used and paraded around per each of his passing whims.

In a way you were thankful that he wasn’t going to end you outright.

But then you realised what your life was about to become and that much had otherwise terrified you.

Not quite a mercy after all and worse yet, rather a sentence in the hell you found yourself in.

[a-b-riddle]

Part 9 (unrevised version). Since I've gotten 6 messages and a good bit of asks requesting to view it. Here it is, not in its final form.

You had hoped Monday would have treated you better than the past two days, but walking up to your shop in the pouring rain to already see a body standing outside waiting wasn't a good sign.

Customers who waited outside your shop always made you feel uncomfortable. But when you finally got close enough, you took in the person before you.

"We don't open for another hour." Your voice flat as you fished for your keys.

"I'll wait." Was Kyle's reply.

"Then you'll have to do it outside." You said, the key sliding into the lock. He didn't argue as you shut the door behind you. Didn't even bother knocking when, after thirty minutes, you looked in the window to see that the wind was causing the rain to blow sideways.

You relented. Letting him in thirty minutes earlier. It was a small mercy, even if he was soaked to the bone. You almost felt bad when his chattering teeth were the only thing you could hear.

Almost.

"I take it John told you about our little talk yesterday." You said, going about your business. Engaging in the conversation as if you were talking about the shitty weather that had tried to drown him.

"He did." He gave a sniffle. Running a hand over his beautiful, wet face. Droplets still staking their claim on his skin. "H-he alssso t-t-told us we were on our own in begging for our own f-forgiveness. Ra-ra- rightly s-s-s-so."

You huffed. Guilt beginning to eat at you before you turned, disappearing to the back of the store and coming back with a shirt and a blanket. "You left the shirt here."

He had no shame and wasted no time in taking off his jacket and soaked shirt. His chiseled body exposed to you. It was almost instinct to reach out and touch the soft skin. You luckily possessed some form of self restraint.

"So are you here to promise to make amends as well?" You crossed your arms. You meant it as a sign that you were wanting to create distance, but honestly you didn't trust yourself. It was second nature. Kyle and Johnny were tied when it came to having to always touch you.

Probably why his ghosting sucked so bad.

"I'd like to take you out." You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. It wasn't until Kyle's face fell that you realized, "Oh, you're actually serious."

He opened his mouth, ready to no doubt give you the same exact promises of doing better that John had given you the day before. Fortunately for Kyle, you didn't have the time to entertain a conversation.

"Fine." You immediately relented. No argument. "That Indian place where I asked you to go four months ago. Seven. If you manage to figure out which place, then I'll be meeting you there. Otherwise you'll be eating alone."

Kyle stood still. Unprepared for the fact that you had... agreed. You actually agreed to let him take you out.

"I can pick you up."

"Not sure what time I'll be getting off today. Might go home first. Might just go straight there." You started opening tasks again. "I have to finish setting up. Seven sharp.

"Seven sharp." He repeated, his smile lighting up the room.

It made you feel sick.

It was 6:45 when your phone started ringing. It was Kyle. Confirming that he was at the restaurant you were supposed to go.

7:00. He had gotten the two of you a table. He'll go ahead and order you a drink. They had mango lassi, but wasn't sure if you wanted to stick to just water.

7:15 He tries calling you. When it goes to voicemail, a follow up text is sent asking if you're okay.

At 7:20, while sitting on the couch you text back. Sorry. Something came up. We'll reschedule, I promise.

If you knew giving them a taste of their own medicine felt so good, you would have done it ages ago. You felt no since of shame in sending it. You hated being petty, but you wanted them to know what it felt like.

John had a lot more of verbal outbursts coming his way and if Johnny was hoping for a chance, he would be lucky if you had sex with him again before marriage.

Ten minutes later, on the dot, there was a knocking on your door. Your food had arrived. Blindly, you opened the door. Only instead of the take out you had delivered, Kyle stood there. Yet again soaked to the bone and this time out of breath.

"How did you know I was here?" Was the first thing that had come into your mind. If anything, he would have went by the shop first, but no. He came here. You weren't the type to deviate from a schedule, but christ. Simon at your date and then the club. John at the shop on your day off. Now this. "I swear to fucking god this fucking stalking-"

"Easy now, Love. No one's stalking you." Bullshit.

Absolute bullshit. They were military. Really important and special connections type of military, but this was bullshit. They were keeping tabs on you somehow.

"I know for a fucking fact that place is only ten minutes away. So you didn't have time to check out my store-- where I should be-- before coming here. So I'm going to ask you again, how did you know I was here?"

"Okay," he shrugged. "Stalking. We're stalking you." Kyle was lying. We he nodded like a bobblehead, you knew whatever was coming out of his mouth was bullshit. The first time you confirmed it was after Johnny had volunteered to make haggis. Kyle told him it was good, no doubt hoping to spare his feelings.

"Kyle." You warned, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. He paused as if trying to form another lie, but coming up short. Sighing in defeat, he confessed.

"Blocking us didn't stop you from sharing your location." In that moment, you could have strangled him. They had been still using your location. Something you had given them as a way to find you if you ever needed help. Now those assholes were using it for their own benefit.

"Son of a-" you shut your mouth. "I can't do this with you right now, okay?" You didn't confess that your publisher had asked for a last minute zoom call in the middle of your busiest work hour to see how you felt about doing a few meet and greets, all expenses paid.

Good news, but still... overwhelming. You still felt like an imposter. That you didn't deserve the hype you were getting. Your story wasn't that good. Your characters didn't hold much depth.

"Everything okay?" You didn't want to tell him. Didn't want to give him the chance to offer the reassurance you desperately needed for something he had no idea about.

"Why?" You asked, changing the subject. "I just want to know why? With John I get that the job gets stressful and needing someone to take-"

"No," he finished. "That's not an excuse. It's a reason. Not an excuse." His jaw clenched. "There is no excuse for how any of us treated you."

"Then what was your reason?" you asked. "I'm finding it very hard that someone who quite actively avoided me suddenly wants to get back together."

"I slacked off?" He shrugged. "I figured there were four of us and if I wasn't able to be there, it wouldn't make a difference."

"If you're just going to lie, Kyle, there is no point in continuing this conversation." You go to close the door only for his hand to stop you.

He stands there, looking at the ground. Even from the this angle you can see him take his bottom lip between his teeth.

He's nervous.

You step back. Giving him the option of coming in and saying it is whatever it is he needs to stay. He may be an ass like the rest of them, but this isn't exactly a conversation you want to have in the hallway for your nosey neighbors to hear.

He takes the silent invitation. Walking in and not speaking until you click the door shut. "You want the truth?" His voice is soft, but there is something else behind it. Anger?

"No," you say sardonically. "Please. Lie to me." He sighed, but didn't say anything. You were exhausted. The past few days had been a back-to-back rollercoaster of emotions. You were drained. You didn't have it in you for this right now. "Kyle-"

"I thought you only kept asking because you felt bad for me." He said the words so quickly, it took you a moment to process them. He thought.... you felt bad for him? "Like you were still trying to include me even if you didn't want to."

"Why?" Was the only thing you could come up with. You didn't have the energy to try to come up with your own reasoning for his admission.

"Don't think I don't know how I am compared to the them." He scoffed. You always knew the hierarchy of their work, even if you didn't know all the details. John was at the top. Captain and head bitch in charge. Simon was the lieutenant with Johnny and Kyle as Sergeants. Kyle was the youngest of the group by two years, but still. What was there to compare?

"So you're not a Captain or Lieutenant?" you shrug. "Johnny is the same rank as you. And you are the youngest and I'm sure with time you'll get to a position-"

"Black!" He said. "I'm black. I am the only fucking black guy not only in this relationship. I'm the only black guy in the 141, in the unit."

When it came to Kyle, black was the last thing you thought of. You thought of his soft brown eyes or house his hands felt so smooth against your body. How his smile could light up the room and how beautiful, how head-turning gorgeous he was. "I'm just an after thought in everything else regarding the 141, why would you be any different?"

"Ky," you were going to be sick. Was this how he really felt? With you? With the others? With work? "You know I don't feel that way, right?"

"Do you remember that time we went out? That french place?" How could you forget. The maître d' had asked Kyle to put a card on a tab before the two of you were even seated. At first you thought it was preposterous. Why would you make patrons at a fine dining restaurant do that? This wasn't a pub for Christ sakes. Kyle told you not to worry about it and handed over a card.

The two of you never went back.

"Oh my god." It dawned on you. "When they asked for your card..."

"I..." he sucked in a breath. Trying to keep his composure. "It was fucking humiliating. I was a man dressed to the fucking nines with a gorgeous girl on my arm and before I even got the chance to blow my money, I was treated like I couldn't afford it. It wasn't because of what I was wearing or who I was with. It was because of me. Of who I was. Who I am."

"Kyle," words escaped you. Nothing in that moment to reassure him that it never dawned on you. That it stupidly never dawned on you how there were times that people did look at him different. You wanted to tell him that it didn't matter. That you were just as important and lovable and respectable as the others. That you loved him just as much. Words failed you. All you could say say was, "I'm so sorry."

He swallowed, before taking in harsh breath through his nose. "It's not an excuse. I got wrapped up in my own stupid fucking head about how other people looked at me, I forgot it only mattered how you did."

"And you did." You said, aching to reach out. To touch him. Offer some comfort. Hating that he ever felt like he wasn't enough. Knowing the feeling all too well. Even if he was the one to make you feel it. "You did matter to me."

"I know." He said. You were thankful he said it clearly. Not shrugging his shoulders or nodding his head as he spoke. "I'll do anything to matter to you again." He took your hands in his, even though they had ached to hold you closer. But he knew not to test his luck. "If you want to press restart and let's take it back to the very beginning, I'll do that. I will court you and woo you and make you fall in love with me all over again because I will never fall out with you. I can't."

You weren't prepared for this. You had prepared to leave Kyle waiting in a restaurant alone. Now your heart ached in your chest at the idea of letting him ever think he wasn't enough because of the color of his skin.

"It doesn't have to be now or tomorrow or next week or next fucking month." He squeezed your hands the same way had John had. With the exact same intensity and promise. "Just let me try again. I won't let you down this time. I'll put in the work."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to work to make this relationship work, Kyle." You protest, wanting to pull your hands away. Free from the spell his touch had seem to be putting you under.

He smiled. Not enough to show off his teeth, but enough where have of his face lifted up. "It's not the type of work with long hours and a shit commute. Loving you is the same kind of work an artist puts into making a masterpiece. Pouring everything into it and getting something beautiful in return."

Before you could comprehend it, your face was wet. "Kyle." Your lips quivered, a sob threatening to come out. "I never felt like I needed to spend time with you, Ky." You sniffled. "I fucking wanted to. I missed you." You were so close. You needed to reel it in. Get it together.

"I just didn't understand how you could." His confession broke any restraint you had. Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to subdue your cries. When Kyle pulled you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you, you allowed yourself to crumble.

Not even for yourself, but for him.

For the kind heart you now knew broke with every sideways glance from passer-byes. For the hateful and prejudice world you lived in and for how they could overlook such a wonderful man just because of something as basic as the color of his skin.

You weren't sure how long you stood crying. You weren't certain if the knock on the door behind him actually happened or something your mind had conjured to try and pull you from your fit.

Eventually you did pull away from him. Your face covered in snot and tears. Seeing that you still were in need of it, Kyle pulled you back to him, only this time your face wasn't buried into his shirt.

You stood there. His arms wrapped around your back while yours found their home around his waist.

"I used to love when you would come back to my place directly from base as soon as you got back from a deployment." You said, breaking the silence. "I would be waiting like a kid on Christmas waiting to see what trinket made you think of me. You made me feel like even though we were so far away, you still thought about me."

"Always." He said, before his lips pressed against the top of your head. "Not a day I didn't miss being here with you."

The two of you eventually settled down on the couch. Both on opposite ends with a hot cup of tea in your hands and the array of take out containers half empty. You had planned for a night of eating your feelings so there was luckily enough food for two.

"I don't want to say no." You admitted. "But I need time. Before I even think about saying yes to all of this again."

"Not all of this," he reminded. "Just me. I'm doing my part in groveling, let the others figure it out. Or at least that's just what Price told us. Although you would be doing all of us a favor if you talked to Johnny?" Your ears perked up. You hadn't seen or heard from Johnny since Friday.

"What's wrong with Johnny?" You asked.

"Lad didn't cope well with you going on your date." Not that you had fucked him and said it was a mistake.... or maybe he kept that tidbit to himsle.f

"It wasn't a-" you started.

"I know," he said. "Simon happened to be nearby." You shot him a look, letting him know you weren't buying that lie, before he continued. "But he didn't. Fuck you're lucky we were able to drag him out of your apartment before you got back and he made an even bigger fool of himself."

"What are you talking about?" You asked. "What do you mean by drag?"

"Johnny called Simon. Told him you were on a date and to bring your ass back. Although you had made it a point to fuck him and leave-- absolutely no judgement, by the way-- he was going to make it a point to never leave your bed."

"My top sheet..." You had come home to your comforters and pillows on the floor. When making up your bed, the top sheet was missing. You had just assumed you didn't put it on or maybe it was in the wash.

"Refused to put his clothes back on. Me and John couldn't risk carrying a naked, screaming Scot through the streets without making a spectical. So we rolled him up and carried him of like a rug. A very heavy, squirmy rug."

"Oh," your hand flew to your chest. "Johnny." He was the bleeding heart of the group so you weren't exactly surprised. He was also the one who blew up shit, so he was definitely one for dramatics. "So that's how Simon figured out about dinner. But the drinks-"

"Whenever Simon is home, he's your shadow. The only time we don't worry about you is when we know he's with you." That made you roll your eyes.

"You act like he's my guard dog."

"He is."

"Is not." You defended, your conversation from Saturday night coming back to you.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be."

"He's not." you said again.

"You're right." Kyle relented, shrugging his fucking shoulders.

"You're saying that like you're just not trying to argue with me." He took a sip of your tea. "Kyle!" He sighed before looking at you as if the last thing he wanted to do was continue on the subject.

"He is." He said. "Your guard dog."

"I mean he protects me, but all of you do." He shakes his head, a huff of air going out of his nose, almost amused.

"Not like Simon." He admits it almost as if he were ashamed. "I want to say something." He said it as if he were preparing you for the next words to come out of his mouth would change the course of the night. "I need to say it because it would make me less of a man and even less of a friend if I didn't. But I don't want you to hate me or yourself for it."

Why would you hate yourself for it?

"Fine." you agreed, giving him permission to continue. "I won't hold it against you."

"You were always the one to coordinate things to do. One-on-one dates. Helping John with paperwork when shit got to crazy and you were the only one the uptight asshole would let touch his files." You gave a small smile remembering how John had barked at a recruit to get the fuck out of his office before peppering you with kisses at your arrival. Giving small pecks of appreciation as he explained what he needed you to do and how to do it.

"Helping me after my shoulder injury and staying on my ass about the physical therapy."

"Well someone had to." You countered.

"This past Christmas when Johnny needed to get his sisters gifts so you made a whole day out of it going to see lights and ice skating." Johnny was the proud owner of a freshly bruised tailbone after landing flat on his ass and swearing off skating for the rest of his life. Feckin' ice.

"Okay?" You asked, not really sure where Kyle was headed for this. He had pointed out what a good girlfriend you were, had been. How you had always tried to be helpful and do whatever needed to help your boys out.

He stopped. He looked at you as if he were debating to tell you what he had warned you about. He looked down at the floor before taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Fuck." He muttered.

"Spit it out, Kyle!" You whined, now clueless to what point he was trying to make by all the examples of what a good girlfriend you had been.

He looked at you with the same solemness that a friend looked at another friend before having to call them out on their shit, knowing that the pill they were about to be given would be a hard one to swallow.

"You never did that with Simon."

[miserableworm]

Aphrodisiac!

★ sypnosis - giving him an aphrodisiac wasn't your best idea...

★ tags - childe x fem!reader, alhaitham x fem!reader, wriothesley x fem!reader, smut (mdni), aphrodisiac, established relationship, oral receiving, mentions of overstimulation, handcuffs, rough sex

CHILDE

Despite being under the influence of an aphrodisiac that would normally drive him to pleasure himself, something about you made him want nothing more than to please you instead.

"God you drive me insane..."

Your legs were spread wide open before him, invitingly wet and ready for his touch. He could feel your heat radiating off your body as he gazed at your dripping pussy; it was almost too much for him to bear!

But instead of diving right in like any normal man might do under these circumstances, When held back... teasingly soaking up every drop of moisture with his tongue while watching you squirm beneath him helplessly.

"Stop teasing me.." you whined

His hot breath fanned across your sensitive skin - enough to make it tingle but not quite enough stimulation yet... His hands gripped tightly onto your thighs as if locking them down so that no one else could come between them during this intimate moment shared only by the two of you...

And then finally – after what felt like an eternity – those delicious lips parted once more and plunged deep into the heart-shaped depths below…

"You taste so fucking good.."

It didn't take long before you had your first orgasm. "Aw my pretty baby is already cumming?"

"Oh but we're not done yet... you can take it, right?" He purred huskily against wet flesh before diving back in again without waiting for an answer.

He's completely pussy drunk.

ALHAITHAM

As Alhaitham's normally stoic demeanor began to slip away under the influence of an aphrodisiac, he found himself unable to resist your advances. Your every touch sent shivers down his spine and ignited a fire within him that he couldn't control.

You were like a siren calling to him, drawing him closer with each passing moment. He could feel the heat emanating from your body as you pressed yourself against him – it was intoxicating!

"Need you so bad..."

Despite his initial hesitation, Alhaitham gave in to his desires and took you roughly against the wall behind you... His hands gripped tightly onto your hips while he thrust deep inside of you over and over again... His breathing became labored as sweat dripped down both of your bodies.

"w-wait.. slow down.. I can't.. ah!"

"One more," he panted between kisses along your neckline before plunging deeper still into the depths below... "I know you can take more.." With each word spoken by this usually reserved man came another thrust from his hips - faster now than ever before.

You and Alhaitham were fully aware that 'one more' is just a lie...

WRIOTHESLEY

Wriothesley was a man of few words, but when he spoke, it was with an air of command that left no room for argument. As the aphrodisiac took hold and his normally stoic demeanor began to slip away, so too did any semblance of restraint.

He grabbed you roughly by the wrists and pulled you closer - handcuffs clinking softly as they secured your hands behind your back. His lips crashed down onto yours in a fierce kiss that left no doubt as to who was in charge here tonight...

His hands roamed freely over every inch of exposed skin while his hips ground against yours – teasingly close yet never quite connecting fully until finally... With one powerful thrust forward, Wriothesley buried himself deep inside of you

"you feel me in you?" he pressed down onto the bulge on your stomach. "t-too much ngh.."

"isn't this what you wanted? no turning back now. You're mine tonight," Wriothesley growled into your ear as he roughly pulled you closer by the wrists. "And I'm going to make sure you remember it."

His rough hands gripped tightly onto your hips as he pounded into you without mercy or hesitation...

[satori-runa]

—Santas little mess

Summary: You seem to get your present a bit early this year.

Tags: Established Relationship, slight fluff, smut, cunninglingus, 'shibari'/bondage, p in v, teasing

Words: 2,8k

— MINORS DO NOT INTERACT —

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Your thoughts were a jumbled mess as you took in the sight before you. Mr Crawling sat in front of you in the living room, looking like a hot mess. His long black hair, usually untamed, had been neatly tied into a sleek ponytail that cascaded down his back, stray strands framing his sharp jawline. The gentle glow from the nearby Christmas lights danced over his exposed shoulder, the pale grey skin gleaming faintly under the warm hues.

But what truly stole your focus was the mischievous red ribbon that wound around him like a rope— giving you the display of a sinful allure. The ribbon clung to him like it had its own will, curling and tightening in ways that left little to the imagination. It coiled around his torso, pushing his shirt dangerously high, teasing glimpses of his toned abdomen. It slipped down his legs, the fabric of his clothes hitched up just enough to leave you wondering, craving to see more.

The way the ribbon wrapped around his chest was almost too much, emphasizing the way his muscles shifted with each subtle movement. The soft, glittering texture seemed to mold itself against him, drawing attention to every detail of his figure. And his arms, the ones you always glanced at, are tied on his back somehow, leaving him with no way to move.

A shiver ran down your spine as you took a shaky breath, your cheeks flushing hotter by the second. It felt like the universe had decided to reward you for all the stress this holiday season had thrown your way. Seeing Mr. Crawling tangled up like this, helplessly at the mercy of festive chaos, was a personal gift—one far better than anything that could be wrapped under a tree.

He didn’t make things any easier with the soft whining and restless squirming, his subtle cries for help sounding far too much like something more suggestive. The way his body arched slightly against the ribbon's grip only added to the sinful image before you, making it impossible to ignore the heat crawling up your neck.

“Hold still.” You said with a breathless laugh, your voice trembling despite your attempt to sound composed. You could feel the burn of a deep blush spreading across your cheeks as you reached for the ribbon, your fingers brushing against its glittering surface.

The moment you tugged gently on the red plastic, it obeyed your touch temporarily, sliding and curling around him as if it were alive. But just as you began to untangle him, the ribbon seemed to retaliate, tightening in another area of his body with wicked precision. A low, unrestrained moan escaped his lips, louder this time, and the sound sent a jolt of warmth straight through you. Your hands faltered for a moment as your gaze flicked to his flushed face, his expression glinting with a mixture of frustration and something far different that you couldn't name.

You knelt down, bringing yourself face-to-face with him, your hands fumbling with the tangled ribbon as you tried to free him once more. But every pull and adjustment seemed to elicit another soft gasp or moan, the ribbon tightening in ways that had an unintentional intimacy you couldn’t ignore.

A heat began to pool in your core, your breaths growing shallow as your gaze flickered over his trembling form. You could feel your panties dampening at the sight—his flushed face, the way his body shifted under the glittering red ribbon, and the soft, pleading sounds escaping his lips.

But it wasn’t just you. Crawling was visibly affected, too. Your eyes darted downward, catching sight of his bulge pressing insistently against the fabric of his clothes. The ribbon had framed it perfectly, curling around him as if it were teasing you both, like a gift begging to be unwrapped.

And how could you deny him? The need in his eyes, the way his body strained against the ribbon—it was impossible to resist. Your hands stilled for a moment as you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “Maybe I should take my time unwrapping you.” You whispered, your voice laced with playful mischief.

His breath hitched at your words, his expression shifting to some flustered confusion as he didn't understand their meaning. The faint tremble in his body only spurred you on, your fingers ghosting over the taut ribbon that wrapped around his chest and thighs.

"You're awfully quiet now." You teased softly, your voice dripping with amusement. "Where's all that whining from earlier?"

Crawling turned his head slightly, his raven hair spilling over his flushed cheeks, but he couldn't hide the way his chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. He bit his lip, trying to stifle another sound as you gave a deliberate tug on the ribbon.

It shifted again, this time tightening against his hips, pressing against his growing arousal with maddening precision. A low, broken moan escaped him, his hands, still behind his back, clenched into fists as if he was trying to keep himself under control.

Your eyes lingered on the way the ribbon framed his body, accentuating every curve and edge. The thought of unwrapping him slowly, savoring every reaction, sent a shiver through you. You leaned in, your lips brushing against his jawline as your fingers played with the ribbon at his waist.

“You want stop?” You finally used your shared language, the foreign words rolled off your tongue easily this time.

The way his body tensed, the soft growl in his throat—it was all the answer you needed. You smiled, your fingers slipping under the edge of the ribbon as you began to peel it away, inch by tantalizing inch. The anticipation hung thick in the air, each moment stretching into eternity as you unraveled the beautiful chaos before you.

His breathing grew heavier with each deliberate pull of the ribbon, the tension between you almost suffocating. You relished the way his body reacted to your touch—subtle shivers, soft gasps, and the faintest twitch of his fingers as if he was fighting the urge to reach for you.

You tugged again, this time more firmly, and the ribbon slid free from his chest, revealing more of his pale, flushed skin. It pooled around his waist like a tempting frame, leaving just enough to stir your imagination further. Your hands moved with purpose, slowly unraveling the ribbon around his thighs, each shift making the fabric of his clothes ride higher, exposing more of the firm, defined muscles underneath.

Crawling’s voice broke the silence—a low, desperate call that sent heat coursing through you. “Do not stop...”

You met his face, his expression smoldering with frustration and need, and you couldn’t help the sly smile that curled on your lips. “But you look so good like this.” You teased, your voice barely above a whisper, while knowing he didn't understand. “All wrapped up, just for me.”

The ribbon tightened again, pressing firmly against the growing bulge between his legs, and a guttural moan escaped him, louder this time. You leaned closer, your fingers brushing against the fabric as you tugged the last loop of ribbon free, watching it fall to the floor in a shimmering heap.

His clothed cock was fully exposed now without the influence of the ribbons, straining against the thin material of his clothes, leaving little to the imagination. You hesitated for just a moment, savoring the sight before you, before reaching up to cup his cheek gently and without hesitation, you closed the distance between you, your lips crashing into his as your hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of his trembling body.

His lips were a bit dry yet desperate against yours, moving with an urgency that made your head spin. The heat of his breath mingled with your own as his hands finally found the courage to move, fingers curling around your waist and pulling you closer. His grip was firm, almost possessive, and it only spurred you on further. He wasn't holding back at all but claimed you in a primal way.

You broke the kiss just enough to breathe, your foreheads pressed together as you caught your breath. Your hands wandered, slipping beneath the fabric of his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin. The way his muscles tensed under your touch sent a thrill coursing through you. "You pretty," you murmured, your voice trembling slightly but laced with sincerity.

Crawling let out a shaky breath, his cheeks flushed a deep crimson as he giggled happily. You chuckled softly, leaning in to press another kiss against his lips, this one slower, more deliberate. "

His hands slid lower, gripping your hips as his body pressed against yours, leaving no space between you. The friction sent a shiver down your spine, and a soft moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

“Want you,” he growled softly, his voice thick with need. Before you could respond, he flipped your positions, pinning you gently beneath him. His movements were rushed, almost primal, as if he was thirsting for you.

“Need you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a wave of heat through your body. “Can I?”

The words sent your heart racing, anticipation bubbling within you as his hands roamed your body, his touch firm yet tender. He leaned down, his lips finding yours again as the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you tangled together in a haze of passion and desire.

His lips descended on yours with a fervent intensity, every kiss deeper, hungrier, as if he was trying to consume the very air you breathed. His hands explored your body without hesitation now, sliding up your thighs, over your waist, and under your shirt, his touch igniting sparks that left your skin tingling.

Your hands slid up his chest, fingers tracing the sharp lines of his muscles as you tugged at his shirt. “Want you too.” you whispered, your voice breathless, daring him to take control.

He smiled, full of excitement, before leaning in to kiss your neck, his lips trailing fire down your skin. He nipped at the sensitive spot just below your ear, earning a soft gasp from you that made his grip on your hips tighten. The way his body pressed against yours left you painfully aware of his arousal, hard and insistent against your thigh. He copied your past intimate encounters quite well at that moment and you blessed his ability to learn so fast.

Crawlings large hands slipping under your shirt to push it higher, exposing your bare skin to the cool air. He paused for a moment, his expression now a mixture of lust and admiration. “You pretty.”

Before you could respond, his lips descended again, this time on your chest, his kisses hot and lingering as he worked his way lower. His fingers tugged at the waistband of your skirt and panties, his gaze flicking up to meet yours, silently asking for permission.

“Please,” you breathed, your voice trembling with need.

That was all he needed. In one swift motion, he rid you of the offending fabric, leaving you exposed and vulnerable beneath him. His eyes darkened further as he took in the sight of you, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

His hands slid up your thighs, spreading them eagerly as his lips followed, his kisses trailing dangerously close to where you ached for him most. The anticipation was unbearable, every touch and movement sending waves of heat coursing through you until you were trembling beneath him.

His lips hovered over your most sensitive spot for just a moment, his warm breath teasing you before he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss there. Your body jolted at the sensation, a desperate moan slipping past your lips as your fingers instinctively tangled in his dark hair, pulling him closer.

Crawling let out a low, satisfied whine, the vibration sending shivers through your entire body. His tongue followed, tracing languid, maddeningly slow patterns that left you trembling beneath him. He worked with precision, alternating between soft kisses and bold strokes, as if he wanted to unravel you completely. And he didn't waste a single drop of your precious juices.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, each wave of pleasure crashing over you more intensely than the last. You tugged at his hair, a silent plea for more, and he obliged, his movements growing bolder, more deliberate.

The heat coiling in your core grew unbearable, your body arching off the surface as you felt yourself teetering on the edge. “Crawling… please,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own heartbeat.

He pulled back just enough to look up at you, his face filled with pride and desire. His lips curving into a wicked smirk. “Cute. You Cute. I like you cute.”

Before you could reply, his hands slid higher, his fingers finding their way to your clit that made you cry out his name. His lips returned to your skin, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses as he worked you over with an intensity that left you breathless. Your hands gripped at him desperately, your nails digging into his shoulders as you finally shattered, your release washing over you in waves. He didn’t let up, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were left trembling and utterly spent beneath him.

Crawling kissed his way back up your body, his lips brushing against your jaw before capturing yours in a deep, searing kiss. “Mine,” he whispered, his voice soft and full of affection as he cradled your face in his hands.

But the heat in his gaze hadn’t faded, and you could feel his arousal pressing insistently against you, a silent promise that this was far from over.

He hovered over you, his body pressing firmly against yours. The unspoken need lingered in his expression, a moment of tenderness breaking through the heat of the moment. You nodded, your hands sliding up to cup his face, pulling him down into a slow, passionate kiss, a contrast to his endless energy.

His lips moved against yours with a softness that belied the intensity of his need. Slowly, he reached between you, guiding himself to your entrance, his movements deliberate and careful. The first push was gentle, almost hesitant, as he entered you, stretching you in a way that left you gasping for air.

“You hurt?” he murmured worriedly against your lips, his voice laced with concern even as his breath came in ragged gasps. He stopped for a second, making sure you were okay, after he learned not to rush it from the first time you slept with him.

You nodded again, your nails digging into his back as you adjusted to the sensation, the overwhelming fullness that sent a shiver down your spine. “Perfect,” you whispered, your voice trembling but full of reassurance. “Do not stop.”

His body relaxed slightly at your words, and he began to move, slow and measured at first, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you. His hands gripped your hips, anchoring you beneath him as he buried himself deeper with each movement.

The room filled with the sound of your mingled breaths and soft moans, the tension building between you like a fire that threatened to consume you both. His pace quickened, his control slipping as his own need took over. He kissed you fiercely, his lips trailing from your mouth to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made your head spin.

“You feel good,” he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure as he drove into you with increasing urgency. Each thrust sent you closer to the edge, your body arching beneath him as the heat coiling in your core became unbearable.

Your name spilled from his lips like a prayer as his movements became erratic, his grip on you tightening as he chased his release. The feeling of him inside you, the way his body pressed against yours, was enough to send you spiraling over the edge again, your cries of pleasure echoing through the room.

Moments later, he followed, his body tensing as he buried himself deep within you, his release leaving him trembling as he coated your walls with his cum. He collapsed against you, his chest heaving as he held you close, his lips brushing against your temple in a tender gesture.

The intensity of the moment faded into a quiet intimacy, your bodies tangled together as you both caught your breath. Crawling pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his voice barely above a whisper as he said with a giggle. “I like you. You mine.”

You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back as you whispered back, “Me yours.”

[sotc]

as fun as it is to talk about the sillay crow family dynamics, i'm soo interested in what this means for the crow familia going forward in a darker lens.

im mostly speaking from the perspective of a rook de riva who romanced lucanis btw <3

illario brought the axe down on his own head after failing to take first talon. he's imprisoned except to play house whenever caterina wants to see him around for family dinners before tensions inevitably shove him back into the cage he's been left to like some house pet lmfao. it's actually kinda fucked up and as a certified sicko i love it. especially considering the casualness in which lucanis describes all of this. crows gotta be a little unhinged<3

But!!! while lucanis was right that illario's reputation is ruined forever as a traitor crow beaten to his knees before every house that doesn't exactly free house dellamorte either. Talon houses will want their pound of flesh of illario for nearly trying to put antiva under venatori control. and yet lucanis refused. house dellamorte showed mercy. they are breaking the rules, making exceptions. this is not how the crows operate and there should--WILL be retaliations for it. illario left this house bleeding in his attempt to claim first talon and their blood is in the water now with house dellamorte having a sole heir who blatantly exposed a weakness and seemingly has no lineage to take after him.

and nevermind that we know murmurs amongst the crows will linger about a first talon being an abomination. i know lucanis kind of handwaves it off as at the coffee date like 'there could be worst first talons' but baby boy, you have avoidance and denial issues this WILL become worse of a problem the longer it goes on. <3

more under the cut bc i didn't realize this was getting so long lol

but in comes fifth talon viago de riva. a bastard to the king of antiva who wants to strengthen the crown. a man who has been ruthlessly exacting and meticulous to get where he is now. and the scariest part is that he has ambition, always has, and knows he has more power than the king himself to make plays if he needs to. this makes for a dangerous (and sexy) combination. in comes his protege rook. casting silly family dynamics aside, viago knows this union between house dellamorte and de riva is extremely beneficial for both houses but also very dangerous. even he knows his ties to teia show a weakness in him that other crows may seek to exploit. and while i do think he may be sincere about wanting rook to find their happiness with lucanis as he has with teia - i truly think he will not shy from showing the importance of a 'political alliance/union' especially with first talon house dellamorte struggling from the blow after all is said and done.

and of course, by extension to de riva, house cantori and the beautiful lovely miss teia, will be extending her support to strengthen their houses but also herself from any opposition. as much as i love that she's kind of the heart that brings this fucked up lil familia together, i know she is just as cunning and clever to recognize what this alliance does for her too.

and caterina.. well, without going into a whole thought piece on her, she has built her (and her grandson's reputation) entirely to instill fear in others, even command enough respect to know she's the one running things while lucanis is just a stand-in as first talon. but what happens when caterina is gone? another dellamorte dead just like all the others. all lucanis has left is himself and his traitor brother. how does he handle illario? how does he fair being a leader to the crows when he didn't want any of this in the first place and no longer has caterina to guide him? how does he wish to pursue carrying the dellamorte legacy (if at all)? does he seek a protege of his own to take on after him? i can't remember who says it (viago or lucanis) but there's a line about how saving thedas will make their houses immortal (hot and very sexy) but also how far can that reputation protect house dellamorte, really?

i don't really have a point to all of this, this is all just stuff im simply chewing on and letting out into the ether because the ripple effect of repercussions with what illario did and what lucanis now has to deal with fascinates me SO MUCH.

[sirenmoth]

Phantom Sensation

CW: RAPE/NON-CON, ghost sex, mirror sex, face slapping, face fucking, no lube, no prep, public sex, crying

Standing in the desolate changing cubical, the quietness was deafening as you smoothed over the fabric of the outfit you were trying out. A last minute invite meant a last minute urgent to any nearby clothing store you can find, hoping to score something suitable for the occasion. Turning this way and that to see how it looked and feels, sighing after deciding it didn't seem right as messaging that you weren't going. Looking back into the cubicle mirror you notice a crinkle on the fabric, like someone was holding it in their grasp, but you couldn't feel not see anyone there, and the changing rooms were all empty when you entered, not even an employee in sight.

Going to turn around, you pushed forward against the mirror, face turned sideways and eyes franticly trying to find someone or something in the small space, trying to find whoever or whatever is doing this. But still nothing, you shake and shiver as a set of invisible hands start to undo the fabric from your body, letting it bunch up and fall to the floor, leaving you bear and exposed. Still, the hands wonder, over your skin and down your sides and towards your hole, squeezing your hips and ass. Shaking your head as you plead the thing to leave you alone slip from your lips, unsure if it can actually hear you, you freeze up as you feel as second pair of hands akin to the first around your neck as the ones around your hips pulls you downwards, hard, causing you to fall to the ground with a sicking pop of your joints.

The hands around your neck disappear and the sensation of them squeezing your cheeks together and prying your mouth open is enough to bring tears to your eyes as they widen in fear, one set of fingers digging into your mouth and presses down on your tongue while another presses into your hole with a dry and rough pace and pressing against that sweet spot inside you. The fingers in your mouth reach back far, causing you to gag only to pull out and be replaced but a much thicker and girthier object that reaches the back of your throat again and again, each time it slides back into your mouth, you feel a solid wall hit your face and again and again as you struggle to breath. Your eyes roll back into your skull as the oxygen leaves your lungs

The same object enters your hole, quickly opening you up in one swift motion with the same dry and rough pace as before. Back and forth they move, your brain finally catches up to you, and that’s when you realize the things inside of you are cocks. Two, thick monstrous cocks splitting you open on both end, with no seeming concern for your wellbeing or safety. Seeking out their own pleasure from your own body.

Your vision starts to blacken when the entity in front pulls out, you think it’s giving you mercy as you cough up spit and what seems like pre-cum, but it's hard to tell, head hung low as you take in deep gulps of fresh air, your head swimming and eyes fuzzy, you think the beings are going to show mercy as the one behind slows. Only you were quickly proven wrong, a rough tug on your hair and a sharp slap across your face, again and again, each cheek turning bright red and stained with tears, before the invisible cock was shoved down your throat again. They want you awake for this. Why? You couldn't think of why.

You can see yourself in the mirror, mouth agape and lips swollen, jutting back and forth from the constant pulling from each unseen behind, both wanting you to themselves, treating you like a toy to fight over. Through blurry vision you see your ruined look, thoroughly fucked out and used, messy hair and teary eyes, bruised and sore skin. Muffled whines and gargled moans fill the room, a pained groan echoes out as the two beings empty themselves deep inside you, a salty yet cold substance coats your tongue and slides down your throat. Yet they don’t release you, stilling briefly before sliding out and switching back places, you take it as a moment of peace, to greedy take as much air as you can back in to your lungs, to try and process what is happening before they slide back in, using the goo-like substance left behind prior as lube. Not ready to leave or show mercy until they were satisfied. 

[kingtomura]

Alley Cat

TW: dark content!!, shigaraki tomura x female reader, noncon, non penetrative smut, humiliation, cum in panties, misogyny, masturbation, snarky tomura, dead dove: do not eat, mdni. wc: 1.8k | cross posted to ao3 Synopsis: You should have known better than to take your usual shortcut home in the dead of night. a/n: To my beloved kaz o'lee :) now get on minecraft w me

You really should have gone home in time. 

You could have, you should have but you didn’t. And now you’re stuck in some dirty back alley at the mercy of some sick psychopath.

“C’mon, don’t look so scared.” His raspy voice cooed, drawing you from your stupor and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “‘S your fault for coming back here.”

His red eyes almost glow in the midnight moonlight as his body cages yours against the brick wall of the building behind you. 

It’s cold, but his fingers are colder as they trail along your sides, moving beneath the warmth of your shirt and chilling you to the bone. 

“What did you expect?” He continues, frost from the air making his breath visible, “dressed like that in the dead of night. You must want some attention.” 

You’ve fought the tears for as long as you could, but they win the battle, cascading down your face, the trail they leave instantly cooling in the cold night air. 

“P-please,” you try, lip wobbling pathetically as you try to plead, “just let me go..”

The man chuckles, his smile as wide as it is cruel. “And why would I do that?”

You have a million reasons why he should let you go, but the only words that leave your lips are whispered and small, “I don’t want this.”

“Dressed like this?” He pulls away, taking the unwanted warmth with him. “Could’ve fooled me.”

His fingers dance to the hem of your skirt, moving to lift it and you’re quick to counter, pushing the fabric back down as you shake your head.

“No!” You try to be loud, shout and maybe someone would hear you, but this only seemed to piss him off. 

His form towers over yours as he crowds your space even more, large hand covering your mouth before you could be any louder. 

“Hey, shut the fuck up” he hisses, scarred lips curled in a scowl. You’re shaking like a leaf and it’s not due to the windchill. 

This man… you know him. 

This is Tomura Shigaraki. An infamous man who could kill you and no one would find him. He wouldn’t even leave a trace. 

So, you close your eyes as the warm tears continue to fall and you sob into his hand, any ounce of humiliation gone to the wind. 

“Aww, c’mon..” he coos and you think he actually believes this is soothing, “it won’t be so bad, promise.”

But you can’t hear him, can’t hear the faux sweet talk as his cold fingers move under your skirt, ghosting against your sheer tights and up to the hem, just near the edge of them. 

You gasp as he releases your mouth. Too terrified to make another noise, you remain frozen, like a deer in headlights as he rips the fabric down, exposing your thighs to the cool chill of the air. 

His gaze raises from your thighs to your frightened eyes as he lifts your skirt once more, this time directing you to hold the thin cotton fabric. 

“And don’t fucking drop it.” He spits as he moves to unzip his pants. 

The sound rings in your ears as you will yourself to stay quiet.

You try to calm your breathing and fail when you feel those same cold fingers pull at the sides of your panties, only pulling them down to your mid thigh but taking the remainder of your dignity down with them. 

“Heh.. why’re you wet?” He muses, noting the way your panties clung to your core like the last threads of your composure. Shigaraki leans forward even more, lips ghosting your ear as he pulls his cock from the confines of his pants. “Knew you wanted it.”

He kicks your legs further apart, making you open them further for better access and getting a tiny whine from your lips.

You can’t bring yourself to look down. You don’t want to see what’s going to violate you, so you close your eyes again, wishing this would all be over before it even began. 

But Shigaraki surprises you. 

Two fingers ghost between your folds, the cold chill of them making you jolt in surprise and let out a small yelp. They were big and thick as they glided back and forth, stroking your cunt as he absently searched for your clit. 

You let out a tiny moan against your will at the way he finds what hes looking for, the bundle of nerves pressed with a touch so soft it surprises you. 

Shigaraki gives a low chuckle, pulling his fingers back and holding them in front of you to show off the way your body betrays your mind. “What a little liar you are.”

“‘M not a liar..” you whisper through budding tears and pray this man finds you pathetic enough to leave alone. 

You are not so lucky and your mind races as he brings those same fingers to his lips to lick away your slick. 

“Whatever you say.” he murmurs, trailing his digits back down and continuing his actions, this time knowing exactly where to press. The feeling makes your knees wobble as the smooth glide of them sends pleasure racing up your spine.

You don't want to like it.

You don’t want him to make you cum.

But, god, he’s going to get you close if he keeps going that way. 

The moans you try so foolishly to hide have an easier time escaping your lips. You fight to keep your eyes closed and avoid facing the object of your humiliation. 

“There we go,” he mumbles as he pulls his fingers away again, unintentionally denying your orgasm that you were growing alarmingly desperate for. 

Shigaraki moves to stroke his nearly forgotten cock, the juices from your arousal helping coat him and he adjusts himself against you. Pin needle pricks of panic race up your spine as you feel the warm thickness of its head between your folds. 

“N-no!” your voice startles yourself as well as the villain against you, making him pause to glare at you, those red eyes shimmering in annoyance, “don’t! I-I don’t want—”

And you’re unable to finish your plea, voice caught as he sticks two of those dangerous fingers into your mouth, the taste of your own arousal on your tongue making you dizzy. 

“What happened to shutting the fuck up, hm?” he hissed, patience wearing thin as you tried not to choke on his thick fingers. “don’t be so dramatic, you’ll feel good, too..”

You can’t stop to decipher his words, the way the warmth of his cock presses presses between your folds silences your mind and you no longer bother hiding your pathetic whimpers, muffled by his fingers. 

It’s slick — slick enough for Shigaraki to glide between your folds and brush past your sensitive clit in the process. 

A low groan leaves his lips as he begins to rock his hips back and forth, enjoying the warmth of your smooth [area], his cockhead teasing but never going further than rutting against you.  

The tears staining your cheeks are endless as his actions begin to warm you from within. 

Shigaraki rocks his hand in tandem with his strokes, getting himself off as he deliberately brushes the head of his cock against your clit. 

You feel empty as he leans forward, forehead against yours and panting as he rolls his hips. It makes you feel as though you’re a mannequin — destined to stand there as this man gets off on your body. 

The unwanted pleasure that sparks up your spine makes you feel sicker than the fingers invading your mouth, your drool dripping down your chin in an indecent manner. 

You’re so close. 

You didn’t think you would be this close by the repetitive motion of his actions alone. 

It’s disgusting how much you like the feeling. 

Even more so by how you’ve shallowly begun to rock your own hips forward, body craving release more than your mind can allow you to believe. 

“Fuck…” you hear Shigaraki’s raspy murmur, it brings you back to the present. It brings you back to your current situation. 

And you finally realize as his hand moves faster and his hips press harder—

He’s about to cum. 

Tomura Shigaraki is about to cum and you pray this will all be over soon. 

Your eyes finally crack open, willing enough to take a peek at your daunting captor. 

He’s watching you. 

He’s watching your every move as he pushes himself closer and closer to the edge. 

It’s too intense, you force yourself to look away, but Shigaraki grabs your chin and meets your eyes again. 

“Look at me,” he breathes, “look at me when I make you cum.” 

This breaks you. Your face contorts in anguish as your body shakes from the pleasure. You can’t deny it now. 

No, you have to face the truth as the blissful euphoria of an orgasm rips through you, tears spilling harder as your cries rise higher than you’d ever want them to.

And this cruel man only smiles. His scarred lips spread wide as he takes in your pain and misery as you gasp for air and clarity. 

Everything feels overwhelming as he sweeps you into a kiss, his rough lips pressed hard against yours as he finally meets his own end. Your heart sinks as you feel the warm spurts of his release against your cunt. 

You groan into his avid kiss, the head of his cock is just shy of your cunt, spilling his cum against you and you jolt in surprise as a rope brushes your clit. He’s ruined your panties, soaked in your own essence and now his. 

Shigaraki pulls back from you enough to sigh against your lips. Watching him come down from his own high leaves you feeling a bitterness as cold as the winter weather. 

The serene expression on his face only brings about more tears from your eyes. Hopelessness evident in each drop as they slowly cascade down your warm cheeks.

Shigaraki observes your distressed form, please smile on his face as he leans forward again, and this time you don't try to pull away as he kisses you — too defeated by him to even fight. 

It’s a distraction, you’ll come to realize as he pulls your ruined panties back up to cover your stained cunt. 

The discomfort is immediate, his cooling seed against your warm folds give a contrast you’ve never wanted to feel and you finally find your strength to push at his shoulders. 

You wanted as much space from him as you could get.

Shigaraki merely laughs, knowing he’s gotten everything he wanted and knowing you would be dumb to strip yourself of your tights and underwear in this dingy alleyway. 

He goes to turn, to leave you alone and let you marinate in the events that just transpired, but not before offering you curt words — words that echo against the walls and ring in your ears. 

“You should be careful getting home, you know. I heard there are villains lurking around here.”

[serpentandlily]

Lost in a Labyrinth - Azriel x Reader

Lost in a Labyrinth Part III - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Lonely and heartbroken after his near kiss with Elain, Azriel finds himself at the door to the most exclusive pleasure house in Hewn City, The Labyrinth, taking Rhysand’s cruel advice. What he expected to find was a pretty girl to warm a bed with him for a single night. But instead he finds something he never thought existed—his mate. A mate that is tangled up in something far more sinister than he could ever imagine. 

Warnings: angst angst angst 

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Part III

and when he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun. - William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The First Attempt

Poison was probably the easiest and cleanest way to kill somebody. It involved very little effort on your part, just a slip of the hand to pour the poison into their drink when they weren't looking. It usually didn't involve blood or puke unless you got one of the nastier poisons, which you never did anyways. Some of the girls were more sadistic though and well, you couldn't blame them for it. 

But while it was the simplest method of killing someone, it was probably one of the harder ones to pull off. First, faeries had very good senses, especially when it came to smell. One sniff of their drink could expose the poison in it, unless you were able to get your hands on one of the odorless ones. Those were more expensive though and Lydia and Keir certainly weren't willing to fund you guys besides your nightly rate from your clients. 

However, when you had made a trip to the apothecary in the underbelly of Hewn City, you had begrudgingly forked over the money for one of those clear, odorless poisons. There was no way anything else would get past Azriel and his shadows. 

Your heart ached in your chest as you stared at the decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart in your pleasure room. Azriel had been kind to you. He had offered you some mercy by buying out your nights and not returning until that fateful meeting at the party. And while he clearly liked being more dominant while bedding you, his touch had been gentle, soft. No one had ever shown you such care and here you were, plotting out his murder. 

But you simply had to do this. Freedom was only one dead body away for you. One more hit and you could finally wash your hands of this place, disappear to another court—perhaps one that would allow you to bathe in the sunlight for the rest of your days, something the citizens of Hewn City had never really experienced.

Kill Azriel.

Kill the shadowsinger and you'll be free to go. 

Those had been Keir's exact words. 

You had killed before. There was a time when your finger was covered in black lines, a new one added every time you didn't have enough money to pay the house fee or enough for food and had to borrow from Lydia. One every time you failed to perform for a client, no matter what they asked of you. But now you were down to one last mark. 

One for the Shadowsinger. 

One for Azriel. 

You let out a sigh, sitting down at your vanity to brush your hair. Azriel was due to show up any moment now. Ever since that night at the party, he had been coming by at this time every single night. He would buy out all the nights Lydia would allow him to before showing up. 

He never even made it seem like he expected sex on any given night. Sometimes the two of you would just cuddle in bed, whispering stories to each other about your lives. Sometimes he would come all tense and frustrated with whatever the High Lord had demanded of him. On those nights you would offer to give him a massage and listen to him complain about how much he hated his work. It seemed like the two of you had that in common, at the very least. 

You hadn't made any attempts yet. You told yourself it was because you were planning out the best way to kill Azriel. Poison, knives, strangling. There were a multitude of ways to do it. But you knew deep down what the true reason was. You had grown fond of the Shadowsinger. You didn't want to kill him.

But your wants and needs had never really ever agreed with each other your whole life. 

So here you were. Waiting for Azriel to come so you could poison him and be done with this Gods awful place. You wanted out of the labyrinth and unfortunately, this was the only way. 

No matter how much you liked Azriel, he was the one standing in the way of your freedom. 

You saw his shadows before him. They seeped underneath the door to your room like smoke. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of them before pure dread washed over you. 

Kill Azriel. 

Kill him. 

A gentle knock on your door was heard before it was pushed open and the Shadowsinger stepped through the threshold, his beautiful face illuminated by the candlelight. His hazel eyes searched the room until they landed on you and you watched as they lit up ever so slightly—the most emotion he would allow himself to show.

You set your brush down and stood to face him. Azriel stalked forward and by his body language alone, you knew the sort of mood he was in. You braced yourself on the vanity behind you as he came to a halt in front of you, tilting your head up to stare at his lethal and devastatingly beautiful face. 

He didn’t speak as he grabbed your face in his hands and kissed you with a frenzy that lit your body on fire. You returned the passion, stringing your arms around his neck to pull yourself closer to him. His presence washed over you like a tempestuous storm, all encompassing. You lost yourself in it—in him. 

You had never felt so taken by someone before. But being with Azriel was just so easy. He was a breath of fresh air in this otherwise suffocating labyrinth. 

He pulled away all too soon.

You opened your eyes, heart pounding in your chest. “What was that for?”

“I missed you,” he murmured, voice hoarse. 

You smiled up at him. “You saw me last night, silly.”

“And yet still I miss you the moment I leave.” He buried his face in the crook of your neck and your hands slid into his dark hair. He exhaled a breath that kissed the sensitive skin of your throat. 

You didn’t want to say it out loud, but you felt the same way. Every second apart from Azriel felt like a lifetime. You gently raked your nails over his scalp and you felt his body loosen in your hold, finally relaxing. 

Your eyes fell on the decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart. So unassuming. So ordinary. But it held your freedom. You swallowed harshly as Azriel pulled away from you

“Go sit,” you said to him, nudging him in the direction of the couch. “I’ll get you something to drink.”

You watched him take a seat as you moved over to the bar cart. You picked up a whiskey glass, not even realizing how much your hands were shaking until you did so. You quickly set it back down on the cart, taking a deep breath.

You could do this.

All you had to do was just pour him a drink. Just one drink. That’s all it would take. One drink and he’d be dead within the hour. He’d be dead and your bargain with Keir would be over. You would be free. 

“I need to make a trip back to Velaris before it gets too late.” Azriel’s voice caused you to jump, almost knocking over the whole cart. “I have to give my mission report to Rhys before the day is over.” 

“You mean you haven’t gone to see the High Lord before coming here?” 

“No,” Azriel answered. “I…I just wanted to see you first.”

Your heart snapped into a million pieces in your chest. You frowned, staring at the back of his head. You could hear the hesitation in his voice—could feel how much it had taken out of him to admit that. Azriel wasn’t very forthcoming, so to blatantly confess something like that…

Fuck, you couldn’t do this. Not like this. You couldn’t kill him like a Godsdamn coward. 

You grabbed the decanter and dropped it on the floor, watching it smash into a million pieces just like your heart had. The whiskey splattered on the ground, soaking into the carpet. Azriel whipped around at the noise, eyebrows high. 

You turned red and stuttered out, “Oops. I-It slipped right out of my hand.” 

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. You quickly looked away, your heart pounding in your chest. You had been minutes away from killing him. Tears lined your eyes as you knelt down to start picking up the glass shards. Azriel was at your side in a second, grasping your elbow and pulling you up off the ground. 

“Don’t touch it. You’ll cut yourself,” he murmured. “Let me take care of it.” 

His care, his concern, it only made you feel so much worse. You sucked in a breath of air, trying to blink away the tears.

“Hey, hey,” he whispered, grasping your face with his scarred hands. He lightly stroked your cheeks with his thumb. “What’s wrong?” 

You stared up at him, into his devastating hazel eyes. “Why are you so kind to me?” Your voice cracked, your throat hoarse as you held back your cries. “I have done nothing to earn your care.” 

“Earn my care? Angel, you don’t have to do anything to earn my care. I care for you because…because,” Azriel paused for a moment, almost like he was debating something. “Because you allow me an escape from my duties—from my incredibly lonely life. When I’m with you, I don’t think about anything else. There is nothing you need to do for me. Just allowing me to see you—to be with you—that is enough.” 

“Azriel, I….” You wanted to tell him everything. Wanted to tell him about your bargain with Keir—about the steward’s demand that you kill him. But the words wouldn’t come out of your mouth. “I just wanted to help you relax and I’ve already messed it up. I’m sorry. Let me go down to the cellar to get another bottle—”

“I don’t need alcohol to relax. I just need you, angel.” 

You were speechless. So utterly speechless. Any words you might’ve said got caught in your throat. All you could do was stare up at him—up at this beautiful male who had shown you he was nothing like the reputation that followed him around. He was gentle, kind, and so much better than anyone you’d ever met in this wretched city. He deserved so much more than this, so much more than you. 

“Okay?” Azriel said, knocking you out of your thoughts. 

You nodded your head, swallowing down your cries. 

“Okay,” you murmured back. 

Tonight you’d give him what he wanted. It was the least you could do. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Azriel flew back to Velaris feeling lighter than he had in decades. It was probably irresponsible that he had gone to see his mate before giving his High Lord his mission report, but he had needed to see her. To feel her in his arms after the day he had in the Illyrian mountains. 

Tonight had been a blessing. She always took care of him like she knew exactly what he needed. And tonight he had just needed to hold her. She had talked him into a massage, her hands magic against his skin and muscles and then they had just laid together, talking about everything and nothing. 

He felt more rested than he would have if he had tried to go to sleep. He felt refreshed, buoyant—like he could take on anything that was thrown his way as long as he had his angel to return to. 

It was nearing six in the morning now and he knew Rhys would be awake, usually tending to Nyx while Feyre got some desperately needed rest. He landed with a small thud in front of the River House and quietly made his way inside. He paused as his shadows whispered to him that Rhys was waiting in his office—no babe in sight. 

When he opened the door to the office, Rhys was indeed waiting for him—arms crossed and his brows furrowed. Azriel quietly closed the door behind him, pulling out his report from the shadow realm and setting it on the desk in front of his High Lord. Rhys glanced down at it for a second before looking back at him. 

“Azriel,” Rhys said, “Where have you been all night? I’ve been trying to reach you but your mental shields were up.”

Azriel cleared his throat before answering. “I had a matter to attend to before I came here.” 

He kept his voice devoid of any emotion. He didn’t want anyone to find out about her yet—his angel. She was his for now. His secret, his love, his mate. 

Rhys raised an eyebrow at him, nostrils flaring. “Is this matter the reason why you smell of cheap perfume and aphrodisiacs?” 

Azriel shrugged, nonchalantly. “This matter is none of your business.” 

“Am I wrong to assume that your scent means that you’ve taken my advice?” 

A muscle in Azriel’s jaw twitched but he refrained from speaking in anger. “Everything you need to know about the mission is in that report,” he said, nodding towards the file on Rhys’s desk. “If that is all, I will take my leave.” 

Rhys frowned. “No, that is not all. Please, sit, Azriel. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” 

Azriel begrudgingly sat in the armchair in front of Rhys’s desk. All he wanted to do was go back to his apartment and get ready to see his angel again in a few hours. He’d once again bought out all her time slots, leaving her with no clients other than himself. Meanwhile, he tried every night to convince her to leave with him, to return with him to Velaris. But something was holding her back…or perhaps she didn’t feel for him the way he did for her. 

That was a depressing thought that he frequently lingered on. 

“What is it?” Azriel asked, wanting to get this conversation over with. 

Rhys rubbed his jaw, his striking violet eyes assessing Azriel. “I’ve been meaning to apologize for the way I spoke to you on Solstice Night. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t angry when I saw you and Elain together, so ready to make your…affections known in plain sight—especially when she has yet to reject the bond with Lucien. But I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did.” 

Azriel tensed in his chair at the memory of that night—at the cruel words Rhys had thrown his way. But unlike before, no hurt came from the memory. No hurt, no longing, no despair. Nothing. Instead, where that hole had been in his chest before was now filled with thoughts and longing for his angel…his sweet mate. 

“It’s fine,” Azriel replied, stiffly. “You did the right thing. It would have been a political nightmare had Lucien seen us.” 

Rhys nodded. “It would’ve. Especially with how many ties he has to other courts—other courts we’re still trying to repair our reputation with. But I treated you like one of my subjects that night and not like a friend. It wasn’t just Lucien I was thinking of, but you too, Azriel. I don’t want to see you hurt if you give your all to Elain and she decides to pursue the bond further down in the line.” 

“It wasn’t your choice to make. It was mine,” Azriel can’t help but say. To his surprise, Rhys nodded his agreement.

“You're right. It is not my choice nor is it my life to live,” Rhys said. “Which is why I’ve decided to rescind my orders for you to stay away from her. I just ask that if you two do pursue something together, please use discretion—especially when Lucien is around. At least until she fully rejects the bond or tells him of her own affairs. Is that reasonable enough?” 

Azriel stood from his seat. “I appreciate the apology, Rhys. But everything else is not needed. I have no plans to pursue Elain or court her. Is that all?” 

Rhys stood as well, his jaw flexing. “So I was right, then? You were willing to throw away our relations with other courts for a female you have no interest in months later? Azriel, I can’t even speak to how irresponsible that would’ve been.” 

“Well, nothing happened. You intervened at the right moment,” Azriel said, coldly. 

Rhys studied him again. “No, that isn’t like you, Az. Something else has happened. Does this have anything to do with that female you had hanging off you in Hewn City? Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with a prostitute of all people now.” 

Anger striked through Azriel like lightning. 

“Watch how you speak about her,” he snarled, hands flexing. 

Rhys gaped at him with a disbelieving look. “Godsdamnit, Azriel. Are you that desperate for love that you have truly fallen for someone you’re paying to be in your company?”

“If you are truly my brother,” Azriel growled. “If you truly have my best interest in mind, then you will drop this now. I don’t need your advice or your concern.” 

“Of course I have your best interests in mind! But, Azriel, this is lunacy. I don’t know what that female has told you, but she only cares for your money. If you had any sense, you’d put a stop to this—”

Azriel lunged forward, slamming his hands on Rhys’s desk, shadows spiraling around him. 

“I said,” he snapped, bearing his teeth, his voice as cold as ice. “Watch how you speak about her.” 

Rhys’s mouth dropped open in shock and before he could say anything else, Azriel disappeared in a flurry of shadows. He needed to leave, far too tempted to rearrange Rhys’s face with his fists. So he let his shadows take him somewhere else he knew he could let off steam—the training ring.

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The Second Attempt 

Azriel was laying next to you, fast asleep. Even his shadows had rescinded to the dark corners of the room, content to leave their master in your hands. The hands that were currently holding a dagger, shaking as you straddled his sleeping body. 

Why was this so hard?

You had killed plenty of males like this before. 

But as you stared down at Azriel’s beautifully peaceful face, something ached terribly in your chest. He looked so much more boyish when he slept. His dark hair tousled, his large wings relaxed, the harsh lines of his face smoothed out. 

The room was dark except for the singular candle on your nightstand, half illuminating his handsome face. He was nude from the waist up, his swirling Illyrian tattoos on display—tattoos you often traced over as the two of you laid in bed together. 

It had taken a while for Azriel to actually fall asleep in your presence. The first few times he had spent the night, you had woken up to him holding you in his arms, staring at you as though you were his entire world—like nothing else mattered in that moment but you. It had caused your heart to flutter and ache. 

But now here he was, asleep. A sign that he trusted you now. Trusted that he could sleep and not have to be vigilant. And he looked so vulnerable like this. Gentle and soft. Nowhere was the usual foreboding and threatening aura that followed him around.

So vulnerable. 

So unassuming.

So clueless that you were currently straddling him with a dagger held above your head, ready to strike. 

You blinked as you felt watchful eyes on you, freezing. His shadows had meandered out of the dark recesses of the room, slowly crawling your way—like they were giving you the opportunity to stop this yourself before they intervened.

You let out a deep breath and lowered your arms. 

Poisoning him had been a coward’s move and so was killing him in his slumber. If his shadows had any sense, they’d strangle you right here and now. You fell off of him, laying back down at his side. The shadows rescinded, the threat gone in their eyes. 

But as long as your freedom was dependent on Azriel’s life, he would always be in danger around you. No matter how much you wished to not hurt him. No matter what you felt for him. 

Azriel had to die. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

Azriel had never felt happiness like this before you. Not truly. He hadn’t even known it, hadn’t known that this was something he could feel. But here he was, his heart full and his mind at peace. There was only one thing that could make this better than it was.

He ghosted his scarred fingers over your bare back, lightly touching your soft skin. You were laying on your stomach next to him, nude except for the silk sheets pulled to your waist. 

His lips twitched as you let out a tiny noise of satisfaction at his touch, turning your head on your folded hands so you could stare up at him. 

He would never tire of staring at you—at your beautiful, serene face. Your alias made perfect sense. Serenity. That was what you made him feel. Though he felt a twinge of jealousy at the thought of how many other males might’ve felt like this around you. 

The only solace he had now was making sure that you were his from now on. He didn’t care how much money he had to spend to keep you occupied with him. So long as it meant you’d be his angel and no one else’s. 

You smiled up at him and the sight was so breathtaking, he lost his train of thought. 

“What are you thinking about?” You asked in that sweet voice that melted his ice cold heart. 

“You,” Azriel replied, honestly. 

You scrunched your nose at him, your smile growing. He trailed a finger down the slope of it, watching your eyes flutter at his soft touch. 

“That’s what you always say.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “It’s the truth.” 

“You're sweet,” you teased, making him chuckle.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever described me as sweet, Angel.”

It was your turn to shrug a shoulder. “You’re sweet to me.” 

“You’re special,” he said, so genuinely that it made your heart skip a beat. 

“Am I?” 

“Yes,” he said, brushing your hair off your back and over your shoulder. “Of course you are.” 

You closed your eyes with a hum, content as he began to trace lines down your back again. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

Your eyes flew open, brows furrowing. You gave him a small nod, curiously. 

“Do you…” he trailed off for a second, his voice lacking the sureness it had a moment ago. “Do you…feel this—this thing between us the way I do?”

“Azriel,” you warned, making his hand pause on your back. This was a topic you tried to stray away from with clients. You weren’t supposed to develop true feelings for any of them and you hadn’t. Not until…

“I know, I know,” he said quickly. “I understand your line of work. But I…I can’t help what I feel, Angel. Tell me you feel it too.” 

You frowned, a nasty feeling coiling in your gut. It should be easy to say no. But that wouldn’t be the truth, would it? No, the truth was you did feel it—that fiery energy between the two of you. Azriel was different. He didn’t feel like a client. He called you by your real name, knew personal details about your life. All things you had shared for some unknown reason. 

All you knew was that you had wanted to share those things with him so you did. You wanted Azriel in a way you’d never wanted anyone else. You wanted to know him, craved his presence when he was gone, loved being with him like this. 

The line between the two of you was so blurred, you weren’t sure it had ever existed in the first place. 

You looked back up at him, your eyes conveying the things you couldn’t yet say out loud. Because you couldn’t let yourself feel like this. 

But Azriel stared back at you, knowingly, like he could read everything you had spelled out in your mind. “You don’t have to say it, Angel. I just need to know.” 

You rolled onto your back, letting out a sigh. “Azriel, we can’t—”

“Why not?” He cut in. “Why not, Angel? If you…if you feel something for me then please, take me up on my offer. Let me take you to Velaris. You don’t even have to live with me. I can buy you your own apartment and anything you need. You’d never have to work again. I could take care of you, Angel, the way you deserve to be taken care of.” 

And what a life that would be. Free of this place, of this gods awful city. Free to live with Azriel. Free to do as you please. Free to bask under the sun, to see the stars in all their glory—no longer buried under this mountain. 

But it wasn’t possible. It was a dream and only a dream. So long as that mark was still on your finger, this was all you could offer him before he’d meet his demise. 

“Azriel, I can’t,” you murmured. “You know this.” 

“But why? Whatever reason or worry you have, tell me. I can’t stand leaving you here day and night. I can’t stand the thought of another having you.”

You rose from the bed, hiding your face from his sight so he didn’t see the tears lining your eyes. You quickly shrugged on a night gown, hugging yourself as you lingered by your dresser. 

You didn’t want to talk about this. You didn’t want to confront this head on. You couldn’t. Just like your other dreams, it would never come true for you. 

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew he had pushed too far but he couldn’t help it. “I’m sorry. I’ll drop it just please come back to bed.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. You should kick him out, send him home. You should tell him to never come back even if it meant you’d be stuck in this place forever without his death on your hands. 

“Please,” he whispered. “Come back.” 

The pure desperation in his voice had you folding. You laid back down next to him, let him take you in his strong arms once again. 

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

The Third Attempt

It had taken at least twenty minutes for you to lug Azriel off the bed and into the chair that you dragged into the center of the room. The faebane laced sleep draught had done its part in this scheme. Azriel had been knocked out, his shadows nowhere to be seen. 

And now you were tying him to the chair with some strong rope, in knots you knew he wouldn't be able to undo. 

Another week had gone by with no attempts on his life due in part to your growing feelings for the shadowsinger. But a visit from Keir had you snapping out of whatever hold Azriel had on you. You needed to do this. You needed to kill him and put an end to this. It wasn't fair, it was never going to be fair but it had to happen.

Out of all the males you had killed, you knew this was the only one that would linger with you for the rest of your life. But it was a necessary sacrifice if it meant you could not only leave this awful city but this Labyrinth too. 

You decided you weren't going to be a coward about this. Azriel deserved to be looked in the eyes as you killed him, otherwise the shame might just eat you alive. It would be so much easier to just try and poison him again but you knew this was the only way it would get done. Maybe you could explain it to him, maybe he would understand. 

Hell, part of you was hoping he'd fight his way from the binds and end your life himself. Would that be a better outcome to this mess? 

You were still debating that.

For now you leaned against the wall, fiddling with your dagger as you waited for him to wake up. You had spent all last night making sure he was happy—content. You had given him everything. Your body, your heart, your mind. It would be your last gift to him. 

But your freedom was hanging in the air between the two of you and that far outweighed anything else. You had been lost in this labyrinth for far too long. It was time for you to finally find your way out. Unfortunately, your way out was through th—killing the one male who had made you feel things you'd never thought you would.

"A-Angel?"

Azriel's hoarse voice made you stand up straight, your gaze falling on him tied to the chair. He blinked a few times, still a bit drowsy from the draught. You watched as he slowly realized his predicament, that he was tied up and without his shadows. He yanked at the binds that had his arms held behind his back, strung up to the chair. 

"Angel," he repeated, finally catching sight of you, "What...what is this? Why...why am I tied up?" 

You stalked forward and he noticed the dagger you held in your hand. His eyes went wide with alarm and he stared up at you in disbelief. He tried to yank himself free again, making the wood of the chair groan. 

“What are you doing?”

“I didn’t want to do this,” you started with a sigh. 

Azriel stopped his struggling, raising an eyebrow at you. “Do what?”

“Kill you,” you said, bluntly. 

Azriel was silent for a moment before he burst into laughter. Your brows furrowed in confusion at his reaction. Normally this was when males started demanding you untie them or pleading for their lives depending on how much pride they had. 

“What’s so funny?” You snapped, taking a step closer to him. 

Azriel shook his head, his laughter fading. “You’re not going to kill me.” 

You frowned. “I am. I have to.” 

Azriel leaned back in the chair, his wings held out proudly. He had completely ceased his struggling, all the alarm gone from his eyes. “And pray tell, Angel, why do you have to kill me?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” you answered quickly, trying to regain your composure. “Not to you anyways.” 

“Well, seeing as I am the one about to die,” Azriel remarked, so nonchalantly, “then I think it does matter.”

He smirked at you, furthering your confusion. Why was he acting so…so calm?! You narrowed your eyes at him, closing the distance between the two of you.

“Why are you smiling?” You huffed, fisting his hair and pulling his head back to expose his throat. You pressed the dagger against his pulse point. 

“It’s cute that you think you’re in control here,” he shrugged, that smile not leaving his face. 

“I am in control here,” you snapped. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re the one tied up!”

“Am I?” He drawled out before yanking at the binds again. “Ah, you’re right. I am.”

You stepped away from him with a sneer. “Why are you acting like this!”

“Like what, Angel?” He smirked at you again, flicking his hair out of his face. 

“Like I’m not about to kill you! Like you’re not about to die!” 

“I’m hoping we can talk this out,” Azriel shrugged. 

“There is nothing to talk about,” you growled, frustrated. You’d expected some yelling or shouts from him, maybe a few pleas thrown in but not whatever this was. 

“I beg to differ,” he replied, “seeing as I’m about to die, I’d like to know why.” 

“Because…you…I—fuck!” You turned away from him, holding the sides of your head in exasperation. You squeezed your eyes shut, Keir’s words replaying in your head on repeat. 

The smile dropped from Azriel’s face at the show of your distress. “Angel, come on. Just drop the dagger and talk to me. Whoever has put you up to this can be dealt with.” 

“You don’t understand,” you cried out. 

“Then make me understand,” Azriel pleaded. “Please.” 

“I have to kill you, Azriel,” you wept. “I have to or I’ll be stuck here forever.” 

“Stuck here? Stuck in The Labyrinth?”

“Yes!” You let out a tiny sob, still not facing him. “If I don’t….if I don’t kill you, I won’t be able to leave.” 

“Angel,” Azriel whispered, “Why would you be stuck here? If you need help leaving, I’ve already offered to get you out.” 

You whirled around to face him. “I can’t just leave, don’t you get it! I can’t just walk out of here like you. I’m trapped.”

“Trapped? Angel, please explain it to me. You’re not making any sense.”

“I was so, so stupid. So stupid, so naive,” you cried. 

“Just tell me what it is,” Azriel said, gently. “Let me help you!”

“You can’t,” you whispered, wiping away the tears streaming down your face. “You can’t help me. Not with this.” 

“Why?”

“Because I made a bargain with Keir,” you said, staring down at the dagger in your hand. “All the girls here have to do it. We get to work here, not get sold off and eventually we will be allowed to leave but…”

“Not without a price,” Azriel filled in the blanks. “So what do you owe Keir favors or something?”

You shook your head. “We’re given marks and targets. He tells us a name and we…we kill them for him.” 

“And let me guess, Keir gave you my name?”

“Yes, he did,” you sighed. “You’re supposed to be my last mark. After this…I’ll be free.”

Silence fell over the room. Silence until Azriel uttered one sentence. 

“So kill me.”

Your head shot up in surprise. “W-what?”

“Kill me,” he repeated, staring directly into your eyes. “If it means you’ll be free, if it means you can leave this place and have a life of your own…kill me.”

“Azriel,” you murmured. “I—”

Azriel yanked himself out of the binds, causing you to gasp. He gripped your arm and dragged you to him, angling the dagger right against his heart.

“Do it, Angel,” he whispered. “It’s okay. Kill me. I want you to be free. I want a better life for you. So kill me.” 

You stared at him, tears pouring down your face. Your hand was shaking as you held the dagger against his skin. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Azriel was giving you his permission, telling you to do it, to kill him. 

He kept a firm grip on your wrist, burying the dagger deeper so it pricked his skin. A small droplet of blood formed, sliding down his bare chest. “Do it, Angel, please.” 

“I-I…I can’t,” you sobbed. No matter how much you tried to convince yourself to push the dagger straight through to his heart, you couldn’t. “I can’t.” 

“Why?” Azriel asked. “Why can’t you?”

“I just…I can’t—”

“Why!” Azriel shouted, making you jump. Your hand was shaking so bad now, tears still streaming down your cheeks. “Why can’t you do it! Tell me why!”

“I don’t know,” you stuttered out through a sob. “I don’t know—”

“Yes, you do,” Azriel said, sternly. “You know why.”

You shook your head, sobbing. He pressed the dagger deeper into his skin. “Why can’t you kill me, Angel? Come on, you know. You know why.” 

He was right. 

You knew why.

You’d known all along. Since the moment you had laid eyes on him that night he came to your room. Something deep inside of you had recognized it and subconsciously buried it. But you couldn’t deny it any longer. 

“Say it,” Azriel demanded. “You know why. Say it!”

You let out a sob.

“You’re….you’re my mate.”

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ───

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[peachdues]

ALL THE THINGS WE LEFT UNSAID — NSFW TEASER

Tengen’s Bundle of Joy • secret pregnancy AU

A/N: oh yeah, this isn’t going to go wrong in the slightest, not at all —

CW: MDNI • explicit sexual content below

READ THE PROLOGUE HERE

Uzui slumps against the doorframe with a quiet exhale. “Look at you.”

The sound of his voice is enough to set you on edge, but the sight of him nearly knocks you over. It’s unfair that such an insufferable pain in the ass would be so damn pretty.

You scowl and the child in your belly shifts, sensing your unease. “Get out. I’m in no mood for your insults or mockeries —“

“You’re beautiful.” He chances a single, cautious step past the entryway, eyes dazed as he stares at you, as though in a trance.

“Why are you here?”

That seems to catch his attention, the dazed fog in his eyes clearing with a few, quick blinks. “I wanted to see how you were.” He swallows, hard. “How you both were.”

Warily, you step back, turning your hips away from him. “You’ve known where I was for months, and you wait until now?” You don’t bother to hold back the chill in your tone. Better to keep the distance between you firm rather than have to make up the slack when he inevitably decides to cross your boundaries.

——

“I can help,” his exhale is hot against your neck, though not more so than his hands as they skim down your shoulders. His fingers play with the opening in your robe. “You know I can. You don’t have to endure this alone.”

Oh, he could. He’d done such wicked things to you with just his mouth and hands alone, never mind what he done with the rest of him, so thick and hard.

The warmth bleeding into your back is like a drug, and you can’t help but melt into him as he ghosts his lips along the slope of your shoulder.

“Do you know how I’ve dreamed of you?” Surprisingly limber fingers push beneath the front folds of your yukata to graze the bare skin above your collar bone. Though the room is warm thanks to the fire cracking merrily in the hearth, you find yourself shivering as your robe teases lightly across your skin, baring more of you to the open air.

The breadth of the Sound Pillar’s forearm across your chest keeps you locked in place against him. “I’m at your mercy every time I fall asleep.”

“Uzu — oh,” your head thuds against his sternum when his fingers — those damn fingers — find your exposed breast.

“You realized it too that night, didn’t you?” The slow parting of your robe from your shoulders spreads goosebumps over your skin where the fabric drags. Between his hands and the teasing caress of your robe sliding down your arms, every nerve in your body comes alive. You sink further into him, bare from the top of your rounded belly, up.

Uzui’s arms swallow you up from behind, and his lips find your shoulder. “That we were made for one another? It’s why we didn’t stop, isn’t it?”

Too much; his hands are too warm, his mouth far too soft where it dances along your desperate skin. It’s been so long since you’ve been touched by anyone, let alone by someone whose caress almost could pass for something reverent. Loving.

It’s been so long since anyone cared.

“Aren’t you tired of us playing this game?” He asks, as though you’d been the one responsible for putting the pieces on the board. “Why do we have to keep dancing around it?”

Uzui doesn’t say what exactly it is he speaks of, and you know better than to ask. It is a door that cannot be shut once opened, and there is no point in trying to force it, anyways.

After all, you were not the one who locked it in the first place.

He drops to his knees before you, staring up at you with something like awe.

“I want you both to be mine.” He whispers, his forehead pressing to the generous swell of your stomach before he peers up at you. for a moment, all of the heat brimming in his eyes is smothered out by pure yearning, earnest and desperate.

“My baby,” his gaze remains locked with yours even as his lips softly graze your navel. “My woman.”

His lips travel down the outward curve of your stomach, every kiss an act of worship, until he pauses right before the dip in your thighs.

“Just say yes,” he urges, mouth hovering dangerously —infuriatingly close to where you ache. “I’ll take care of you both, I swear it.”

He seems so earnest. It is almost easy — too easy — to forget what led you here, heavily pregnant with his child.

You’d be more useful dead.

being horny doesn’t fix your problem, idiot

[syluslnd]

requesting sylus going dumb for that pussy please

Sylus eating you out

You're sprawled out on the couch, bored out of your mind as Sylus works at his desk. He glances over at you from time to time, his eyes flickering with amusement at your restless shifting. You're wearing a mini skirt but you're so comfortable around him that you don't even think twice about how you're lounging.

You stretch your legs, shifting again, unintentionally parting them a little wider than you realized. Sylus, though casually sitting at his desk, immediately takes notice.

His face changes, his sharp gaze locking onto you with a different kind of intensity.

Still unaware, you continue lounging until, in a split second, Sylus is standing right in front of you, his tall frame towering over where you're laying. His presence is so sudden that you nearly jump, quickly closing your legs in a shy attempt to cover yourself. "S-Sylus” you stammer, the blush already creeping across your cheeks.

He leans in, his face just inches from yours and you can see the amusement dancing in his eyes. His lips curl into a teasing smile as he murmurs, "It's too late for blushing now, kitten."

Before you can even think of responding, Sylus's hands are on you, effortlessly prying your legs apart with his strength. His grip is firm, unyielding, as he spreads your legs wide, his eyes dropping down to take in the sight.

"Look at you" he teases, his voice low, filled with that familiar edge of control. His fingers trace along the edge of your skirt, lifting it slightly as his gaze settles on your underwear. His smirk deepens. "Cute choice."

Your blush deepens, heat flooding your cheeks as you instinctively try to close your legs again but Sylus's grip is too strong. He keeps them forced open with ease, his bare strength leaving you completely powerless against him. You're no match for him and the realization only intensifies your breathless anticipation.

Sylus watches you struggle, his smirk shifting into something darker, more devilish.

His hand moves slowly, teasingly, his fingernail tracing the outline of your clit through the fabric of your underwear. You shudder under his touch, your breath hitching as his fingers glide so agonizingly slow up and down, barely brushing against you but enough to send sparks of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Look at you, sweetie” he murmurs, his voice a smooth, dangerous whisper.

"Breathing so hard and I've barely even touched you." His words are dripping with amusement, watching you writhe under the faintest of his touches. His fingernail grazes over you again but harder,making you gasp as the sensation intensifies. "So sensitive... you're going to fall apart, aren't you?"

You try once again to shut your legs, to block out the overwhelming feeling but Sylus isn't having any of it. His hand clamps down on your thigh, keeping you spread wide with ease. He leans in, his breath hot against your neck as he whispers, "Don't even try to resist, kitten. You know you can't win."

Without another word, Sylus swiftly scoops you up into his arms and before you can even catch your breath, he's carrying you across the room. You know where he's taking you.

His special room-the one filled with all sorts of toys and devices he keeps for moments just like this. Your heart races as the door to the room swings open, revealing the dimly lit space, the shelves lined with tools of his desires, each one carefully selected for maximum control.

Sylus strides over to the bed, gently but firmly placing you down. Before you can even think to resist, he's already tying you up, his movements quick and efficient, like he's done this countless times before. He binds your wrists above your head but he doesn't stop there. He moves to your legs, tying them to the posts at the end of the bed, forcing them apart until they're spread wide, completely exposed and vulnerable to him.

You tug at the restraints but they hold firm and you know you're at his mercy now. Sylus stands back for a moment, admiring his work with a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

"Perfect” he says softly, his voice filled with anticipation. He moves back in, his fingers returning to where they left off, tracing along your clit once more but this time with a purpose,with nothing holding him back. "Now, let's see just how long you can take it, sweetie."

His touch is slow, teasing, drawing out the sensation until you can barely breathe, your body reacting to every light stroke. You're completely helpless, and Sylus is in full control-just the way he likes it.

His eyes linger on you with a mixture of dominance and desire and he then gets up to walk over to one of the shelves. You hear the faint sound of metal clicking and when he turns back around, you see the tool in his hand: scissors. Your breath catches as he approaches, and his smirk widens when he notices your reaction.

"Oh, don't look so nervous, sweetie" he teases, stepping close to you. "I just want to get a better view."

With slow, deliberate movements, he slides the cold metal on the fabric of your panties and your skin. You shiver as he carefully begins to cut, his eyes never leaving yours as he slices through the fabric.

The sound of the scissors cutting feels deafening in the otherwise quiet room. Inch by inch, your panties fall away, leaving you bare, fully exposed under his predatory gaze.

"There we go" Sylus murmurs, discarding the ruined fabric to the side. He takes a step back, his eyes roaming over your now fully exposed body. "Look at you. Absolutely perfect, kitten” he says, his voice low and rich with satisfaction. "All mine. You're blushing, but there's no need to be shy.You're beautiful like this."

You can't help but turn your head away, too embarrassed by how exposed you are. But Sylus doesn't allow it-he cups your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Ah-ah, none of that" he whispers, his tone teasing but firm.

"I want you to see everything. I want you to know how much I'm enjoying this. How much I'm enjoying you."

His words send a shiver down your spine and before you can respond, Sylus's hands are on your thighs, his touch firm yet tantalizing. He spreads you even wider, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight of your pussy, fully revealed and vulnerable under his control. He hums appreciatively, his thumb grazing your inner thigh, so close yet not quite touching where you want him to.

"You're so pretty, you know that?" he says, his voice smooth and teasing. "So sensitive...i bet you're already aching for me, aren't you?"

His hand hovers just above your entrance, the heat of his touch teasing you to the point of madness but he's not in any hurry. He enjoys watching you squirm, helpless and needy. "Look at you” he murmurs, his tone dropping lower. "So wet already and I've barely even touched you. You love this, don't you, kitten? Being so exposed, knowing I'm the only one who gets to see you like this..."

You can't help but whimper in response, your hips instinctively moving toward him but he holds you steady, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

Then, without warning, Sylus leans down between your legs, his breath hot against your skin. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel his tongue slide up the length of your entrance, slow and deliberate, teasing you with every flick of his tongue. He hums against you, clearly pleased with the effect he's having.

"Such a sweet taste” he whispers between licks, his voice muffled but still dripping with mischief. "I could do this all night."

Your head falls back against the pillows as he continues, his tongue swirling over your most sensitive spot before dipping lower, giving your entrance a slow, sensual lick. The sensation is overwhelming and your body trembles beneath him. You try to close your legs again but with a firm grip on your thighs, Sylus keeps you wide open, fully exposed and at his mercy.

"You're not getting away from me” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks. "I want to taste every part of you."

He lowers his head deeper, this time wrapping his lips around your entrance and sucking, the sensation sending shockwaves through your body. You gasp, your back arching off the bed as pleasure courses through you.

His tongue flicks against you while he sucks, each movement designed to drive you closer to the edge.

"Mmm, that's it, kitten" Sylus purrs between slow, deliberate licks and sucks. "I want to hear you. Don't hold back."

His hands keep your thighs spread, his grip unrelenting and he looks up at you as he continues his assault, his eyes gleaming with amusement and control. "You taste so good... You have no idea how much I love this."

The teasing licks and intense sucking become almost too much and your breaths come in quick, ragged gasps. You're entirely at his mercy and Sylus knows it-he's savoring every moment, every reaction, every tremble of your body.

"Come on, sweetie” he murmurs, his voice a mix of command and dark affection. "Let me hear those sweet little sounds. I want to know just how much you love being mine."

Sylus continues to work his magic, his fingers sliding inside you with a skilled rhythm that has your breath hitching in your throat. He keeps the pace steady, his tongue mirroring the motions of his fingers as they create a delicious harmony of sensations.

Each flick and thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, igniting a fire within you that builds with every passing moment.

You can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, your body responding eagerly to his ministrations. A soft moan escapes your lips and Sylus's gaze darkens, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. It's as if he's absorbing every sound, every reaction, feeding off your pleasure.

"You're so responsive" he murmurs, his voice low and sultry. "Just a little more, kitten."

His fingers and tongue work in perfect synchronization and you can feel the heat pooling in your core. Your body begins to tense, the world around you fading as you focus solely on the sensation building inside you. You're close, so close and you can't help but arch your back in response to the pleasure he's giving you.

"Please, Sylus" you gasp, the words tumbling out in a breathless plea.

He doesn't miss a beat, increasing the pressure just slightly, his thumb grazing your most sensitive spot as he continues his rhythmic dance. The sensations become overwhelming and you can feel your body shaking as the tension reaches its peak.

You're teetering on the edge and with one final flick of his tongue, you feel the wave crash over you.

Your vision blurs and a cry of pure bliss escapes your lips as you finally come undone. Every nerve in your body ignites, the pleasure surging through you in waves as Sylus holds you steady, guiding you through the climax with gentle, knowing strokes.

As you come down from the high, you're left breathless and blushing, a mess of emotions and sensations. Sylus watches you with an appreciative grin, his own eyes dark with satisfaction as he savors your taste, his fingers lingering as if reluctant to let go.

"You're perfect" he whispers, leaning in closer, his voice thick with mischief. "oh and just so you know, I'm far from done tasting you." He kisses your cheek, a teasing glint in his eye. "Get ready for another round, sweetie."