#my subconscious was guiding me not to name him yet

[lightsoutletsgo]

good night's sleep — cs.55 (18+)

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

word count: 5.1k of pure FILTH

warnings: daddy kink, oral and fingering (f receiving), sub space, countdown to orgasm, written with thicc reader in mind but can be read by anyone, brief allusions to choking, sub!reader, brief mention of possible size kink (but blink and you’ll miss it), use of pet names; amor, baby, princesa, corazón 

You grunted and groaned, wriggling yourself further into the sheets as you tried to get comfortable. You finally found a comfortable position and closed your eyes before huffing in frustration as you grew too hot under the covers, flinging them off. What on earth was wrong with you? You turned to look at the man sleeping next to you. Led on his stomach with one hand under the pillow his head was positioned on, the other laying next to him, occasionally twitching as he dreamed. 

You subconsciously pressed your thighs together as your eyes gazed down the vast expanse of his shirtless back and shoulders, coming back up and eventually stopping on his thick arms, biceps bulging even though he wasn’t flexing them. Your mouth watered and you immediately realised what was wrong. 

You were needy. 

Quickly slipping your panties off underneath Carlos’ shirt you slowly crawled over to him, softly poking his side 

“Carlos…” He was quick to wake up and roll over to face you, 

“Mi amor, is everything okay?!” As he slowly realised you were calling him he quickly shot up, hands cupping your face as he sat up against the headboard 

“Amor talk to me…” 

“I-I…” You trailed off, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

“Come on baby, I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong, okay?” Carlos’ eyes searched your face for any indicator, one hand dropping to rub soothing circles onto your hip- his hand paused as he slowly realised why you’d woken him up.

“D-do you have panties on right now ?” 

You felt your cheeks heat up heavily as you slowly shook your head shyly… 

“No… need-needed you…” a smirk overtook Carlos’ face as he guided you to crawl onto his lap, plopping yourself down directly onto his crotch where you could already feel him hardening. You let out a soft moan as your hips automatically began to grind. 

“Nuh-uh uh amor,” The hand on your hip gripped tightly as the hand cupping your face slid down to hold your throat gently. “Not yet.” whining needily, you pouted as he laughed at your cute reaction, leaning in to press his lips to yours. 

You felt his lips stretch into a smile through the kiss. 

“Such a sweet girl” he murmured into the kiss “Always so good for me”

You broke away to nod frantically, 

“Always good for you, wanna be your good girl!” Carlos hushed you gently, 

“Easy corazón, it’s okay, let me take care of you hmm?” You nodded, feeling your head grow fuzzy and your chest grow warm as Carlos led you down in the space next to him before climbing on top of you. You sighed happily, feeling small underneath him and the dominant aura he emitted. 

“What do you want, baby?” You frowned, biting your bottom lip, he knew what you wanted, why was he making you ask? 

“Come on princesa,” Carlos’ thumb pulled your lip from between your teeth, gently soothing over the bite mark you’d left behind, “I need to hear you say it so I know for sure it’s what you want, okay?” You nodded, 

“I-I want you to make me cum… p-please… daddy?”

“Good girl,” Carlos cooed at you, pressing kisses to each of your hot cheeks and one to the tip of your nose before he looked straight into your eyes, 

“You want my fingers or my tongue amor? or maybe…” He smirked at you, pausing as his tongue licked his lower lip slowly, “you want both?” you squealed and brought your hands up to cover your face at his lewd words as he gave a low chuckle, 

“I‘ll take that as a yes, princesa…” He pressed one final kiss to your forehead before moving down your body. Gently pressing kisses down the column of your neck, 

“You smell so sweet, mi amor…” He lifted the hem of his shirt to sit above your breasts, inhaling sharply as his eyes caught your perky nipples, he left soft kisses on the swell of each breast before moving to leave gentle licks and nips to your soft tummy and thick hips. He eventually reached between your thighs and you moaned at the sight of him between your legs staring up at you.

“Well well well, what do we have here? You really are needy aren’t you hmm?” Carlos hissed as his fingers collected the slick that was already at the entrance of your tight hole and you heard him gasp when he realised how it coated your inner thighs and dripped down to your ass, pooling on the sheets beneath you, 

“Oh poor baby… you must have been feeling so needy before daddy woke up huh?” You nodded, a small whine slipping from your throat, he hadn’t even done anything yet and you were already losing your mind. 

“Okay then princesa, I’ll take care of you,” A moan tumbled out of your mouth as you watched him hook your legs over his broad shoulders, his arms flexing as he tightly gripped the tops of your plush thighs to keep them open. You broke eye contact when he inhaled, closing your eyes tightly as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, partly embarrassed at the lewd display and partly too turned on to think straight. He cursed in Spanish, the low and rough sound sending shivers down your spine. He dropped his head down to gently lap at your clit and you wailed out immediately, hands flying, tightly gripping his hair. 

Carlos growled into your cunt at the sensation, making that tingling feeling in your lower belly immediately flare up.  

“Daddy!” 

“That’s it amor… daddy wants to hear every pretty noise you can make…” His lapping and sucking continued before he nuzzled his way down even further, tongue darting out to taste your sweet arousal straight from the source, 

“You’re delectable princesa, you know that?” Moans were constantly pouring out of your mouth as he drank up every last drop that your sweet pussy offered him. 

“Mmm, wanna stretch you out…,” You felt one hand slip from around your thigh as his middle finger began teasing your tight hole and he laughed as your hips bucked up, chasing his hand, 

“Easy there princesa.” You whimpered as his finger slid into your heat. 

“M-more Carlos p-please…”

“You want more? But we’ve only just started… You’re such a needy little thing, I love it.” He pressed a light kiss to your clit as his finger curled upwards, finding that spot that made your hips jerk and your thighs shake. You moaned as your eyes rolled back, closing tightly as your body succumbed to the sensations. You were pulled out of that space by a sharp slap to the inside of your thigh, eyes shooting open to look at Carlos. 

“Eyes on me amor or I will stop, understand?” You nodded quickly, “Words baby…” 

“Y-yes ngh, daddy!”

“Good girl… I just want to look into my pretty baby’s gorgeous eyes when she cums.” He smirked into your pussy as he leant down to begin gently sucking your clit once more, his finger slowly curling into your heat. You whined as you felt your cunt throb from his ministrations. 

“D-daddy… feels so good!” You writhed underneath him, hips beginning to chase the feeling. 

Everything felt hot. It was all too hot and too much, 

“P-please please please…” you chanted as he began to drag sloppy licks and kisses over your clit and his fingers sped up slightly, his free hand tightly squeezing your thigh, the flesh spilling out between his fingers. You grabbed at his wrist on your thigh, drooling over the muscle and veins you felt as his body flexed in an attempt to keep your body in one place. You tugged at his hair, Carlos refusing to let up. 

“Carlos, I’m so close!” You whimpered out, “Wanna cum please…” Everything felt fuzzy and you could hear a roaring noise filling your ears. Your eyes filled with tears as your body convulsed and thrashed from the overwhelming pleasure. 

“Sh-sh-shhh it’s okay princesa, I’m gonna count down for you to help you focus okay?” You were beyond words now, unable to form any syllables other than his name and incoherent moans and gasps. 

“Alright then mi amor 5… Such a sweet girl.” You whimpered at Carlos’ voice, 

“4… Look at you taking everything I give you so well…”, His words, other than the numbers, were murmured into your pussy between more soft sloppy kisses to your clit, his spit dripping down and soaking your pussy lips even more,

“3… Can’t wait to see you cum angel, always so beautiful when you cum for me…” His fingers sped up as each movement pushed them up against your g-spot,

“2… Fuck yes princesa, squeeze my fingers more that’s it, good girl…” You felt yourself on the edge, ready to tip over, the only thing you needed was-

“1… Cum for me princesa.” A strangled squeal was ripped from your throat as you obeyed his command and finally felt your orgasm hit you, the hot white heat spreading from your core, right to the tips of your fingers and toes. 

“Fuck yes… good girl… you’re squeezing my fingers so tight baby, did you like that huh?” Carlos slowed his fingers down before gently sliding them out of you as he crawled back up your body, 

“Clean my fingers up then baby.” He held his fingers in front of your mouth, pressing a kiss to your forehead when you happily began to suck them clean with a contented sigh 

“Good girl, mi amor, so good for me.” He slid into bed next to you, pulling you into his arms tightly, your back to his chest, relishing in the way your soft body curled up into his muscular one, your fingernails gently running up and down the arm that held your waist tightly. He continued to press soft kisses to your head, 

“Sleep now princesa, I bet you’re feeling a little tired huh?” His deep voice rumbling through your back sent pleasant vibrations up your spine and you giggled, pushing yourself back into him further until your ass met his crotch. You gasped, 

“Oh! Umm… What ‘bout you…” You trailed off shyly, Carlos hushed you gently, chuckling at your cuteness,

“I’m okay amor, you can help me tomorrow okay?” You nodded before snuggling yourself back down into his warmth, 

“Such a pretty girl aren’t you?”, “Love you so much mi corazón”, “You always make me feel so good”, “So proud of you mi amore.” Each praise was followed up with more gentle kisses as you drifted off to sleep. 

“Sleep well princesa.”

[sugudoe]

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ᝰ PINKISH TIP, GIRLY POP⸻ chp8

ᡴꪫ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after a nasty breakup from a long distance relationship, your needs for hookup starts to bundle up more and more, until it’s all you can think about. tired of your unusual and annoying self, your friends decide to have a little fun and stop this nonsense. it’s just a bet, you don’t even have to do it, actually, they just want you to calm down a bit. although you, a quite normal yet weird girl, never backs down from a dare, so you fully believe you can win this one — to hookup with the most amount of guys from your college’s top fraternity. all you need is booze, a party with neon lights and someone saying “doubt it”. as a future journalist, you see it as a top notch article to write.

ᡴꪫ cw: SMUT \\ protected \\ reader and gojo just…idk, they’re having a lot of fun \\ oral (fem!receiving) \\ for jokes reason, reader straightened her hair for the party \\ gojo likes cockwarming \\ they get cock-pussy!drunk \\ crack!chapter as well, reader is daydreaming and funny \\ english is not my native language \\ gojo calls her “baby”

You have no idea what does Gojo’s room look like, even if you had been inside of it for a couple minutes now. You can say with certain that his door is white, and cold. After all, you have been pressed against it, right away. Gojo managed to push you inside and dived for a kiss, as if claiming his prize. He had been searching and waiting for you all night.

He is ── breathtaking.

Gojo is a starved man. His kisses are messy and wet, but nonetheless, they make you close your fists on his shirt and pull him impossibly closer. You want so much more, and he will give all to you. You can’t help but moan when his lips connects into your neck. He sucks it, scrapping his teeth, trying hard to get more and more reactions out of you. And, of course, you comply. You moan more, sighing, pulling his hair.

Gojo halts.

Fuck sake, if he says he is a virgin, you will stop this bet right fucking now!

“Did you fuck someone?” He asks, hot breath against your skin. “You, uh, have a hickey. I didn’t give you.”

“What?” Your mind is screaming at you, get a grip, it says. “Of course you gave me, Gojo, you were feasting on my neck not even a minute ago.” He stares into your eyes, sharp glancing, trying to catch a lie. Slowly, he nods his head and go back to his previous action.

That was too fucking close, and gaslighting serves a good purpose, sometimes. You understand your ex a bit now.

You, thankfully, stop thinking about him, when Satoru ── who you recently discovered his name ── grips your thighs and hoist you up. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and your hands guide his face back to your lips. He is more than pleased to kiss you back, having had his fun with bruising more and more of your neck, subconsciously marking over Ino’s own hickeys.

“You have condoms, right?” You whine against his lips. knowing for a fact that you will cry if he denies. Gojo smirks, pulling you from the door and walking to lay you on the bed. His weight on top of you is easily accepted.

“Yeah, baby, don’t worry about it.” He mumbles an answer, his kisses going back down, this time to your cleavage. “This is a hickey I didn’t made.” You stare down at the small purple imperfect circle on your titties ─ Takuma’s gift.

“Curling iron.” You moan, desperate.

He takes the answer with a shrug, despite your hair being clearly pin straight, thanks to Kirara earlier. You want to laugh at his stupidity, but Gojo, much like you, is fucking out of his mind. You can bet that the only thing he is thinking is the desire to get inside you, right now.

His largue hands cup your breast when his mouth move away, they squish for a bit before he begins to remove your corset. Gojo’s eyes are settled on your naked upper body the moment it is presented to him, as if staring at anything else might be a sin.

“Gojo…please.” You pleaded, calling for his gaze to yours and he cooed at you.

“You poor baby, just wait.” And, seeing no other option, wait is what you do.

Satoru leaves you for a minute to grab something on his drawer, which you smartly assume to be the condom. When he turned back, he was grinning at you, looking like the happiest person in the world.

The thing about wanting sex so much, and not having it, is that the moment you are face to face with the opportunity, you feel virgin all over again. It’s weird, isn’t it? The drop of your guts, the instant fill of butterflies on you ribcage, trying to fly all the way up to your throat. Exhilarating, scandalous.

With Ino, it was just a kiss before it turned into the sex talk, and right away he told you there were no condoms. You didn’t had the time to sprout those cold sighs on your lungs, but now you do.

Something in your face gave away your nervousness, and Satoru once more stop his advances. He looks at you, before settling down on the bed, both arms resting against your body.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t wanna.” He whispers.

“I do,” You cradle his face and he leans into it. “I’m just nervous. It’s been a while.” Your burned cheeks bring light to his eyes, and he press pecks to your lips as if, minutes ago, he wasn’t nearly ripping it off with his sharp teeth.

“It’s okay. I’ll take your nerves away, can I?” At your nod, Satoru, once more, moves down.

This time, he doesn’t stop too long on your boobs, instead he keeps going and going, leaving kisses and marks, until he is faced with your skirt. He eyes you, asking for permission, and when you mumble a desperate yes, he removes your mini skirt in a slow peace.

The fucker is teasing you. In case you haven’t noticed already by his annoying pleased face, having all the fun in the world, even when you yank his hair back.

“Ow! I ── I quite like that, actually.” You giggle and his face lights up again. He thinks you’re adorable.

When your dripping intimacy is facing him, Gojo groans out his own pleasure, just by sight he can get off. One of his fingers, cold, touch your cunt, separating the folds and smearing itself into your release of earlier ── Gojo, though, doesn’t need to know that. For all purposes, you simple are drenched from his kisses alone. Which is not a full lie, at all.

He is entranced by you. One finger turns into two, then three, then a fourth one finds your bundle of nerves right away. You gasp, and moan, and gasp again. As if following his circulatory movements.

“Got you there, baby.” That’s the last thing he says before taking the lead, and drowning himself in your pussy. Removing most fingers, except his overworking thumb.

Gojo’s kisses are of a starving man, as said. His eating is even more. He is desperate, and yet not messy. Of course, the slurping sound, and your wetness is being parade all over the room and your thigh and his face, but it’s all good. Too good, so fucking good.

Your legs close around his head, instinctively, and he moans while nodding. The fuck.

Your ex, ── who you so much wished was not plaguing your mind at this exact moment ── was not against giving head. Is just that, unlike you, he didn’t cared about knowing what to do exactly. The man thought that all was needed was tongue movements and fingering, and you might have felt pleasure, but never came to it. And many others haven’t as well, the male population was lacking in the head department.

Gojo Satoru had absolutely no part in this, whatsoever. He knew exactly what the fuck he was doing. You had no expectations, and he still managed to make you see starts. Unhinged breathing mixed with extraordinary moans, and so many swearing. You were a mess, his mess, to be more precise.

One of Satoru’s hands is holding your thigh, against the side of his face. He even raises you a bit, to have more space to devour. He mumbles against your core, inserts his tongue, he never stop his finger movement on your clit. Gojo is making you crazy! He is, as well.

You whimper under him, arching your back, grabbing his hair with so much strength, and he keeps his movements constant and encouraging you. You bet you could remove his scalp and he wouldn’t move an inch.

You’re coming. Wait ── what? That early? Not possible.

Buckle the fuck up, Gojo Satoru is a master of tongue.

He didn’t even fingered you.

Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

Coming back from your high and confused thoughts, with his head still implanted on your cunt was a beautiful reception. You started to wonder if it would be needed a surgical removal of him from you, when he groaned and raised his upper body. The vision of his handsome face, drenched in your release, had you nearly going off again. And again, and maybe one more for good measure.

He smiles devilish, as if he can read your most impure thoughts. And you smile back, because in all honestly, if he knows he will comply.

Gojo raises from the bed, and removes his jeans. He stares at you as he comes for the condom laying on the bed, but your eyes are entranced by his cock.

Kinji once told you that the name Mu Iota Beta was a hidden message created as a joke by Gojo ── Mommy mIlkers Bitch, because he believed most members had largue pecks (titties). As someone who had been blessed by two cocks of the members, and accidentally seeing a nude on Kirara’s phone, your first thought was definitely that MIB most likely had large everything.

Please, you begged the universe, all big for me.

Pinkish tip, girly pop! Perfectly curved, you could call yourself a mathematician, at this point. That thing was created for you, you knew that. Gojo knew that. He put the condom on himself, but all he could focus on was you. Beautiful, mesmerized, mouth gap, legs open, fingering yourself.

You didn’t even noticed when you started, but stoped right away, growing shy. You really are a slut, and you love it. But you are a timid slut.

“No, no, keep doing that ── just, fuck, just a bit more.” He whimpers, moving closer, hard cock on his hands and he moves up and down slowly. So you follow his lead and goes back to inserting your finger in yourself. With press on nails is hard, but Satoru don’t care about your speed, he just likes the view. “I’m going to fuck you so good.”

“Please, now.”

“So demanding.” He mocks you.

Gojo is pretty fast, for a boy this tall. One moment he was standing apart from you, and now, he is on top of you, again. Holding both of your hands up, with only of of his, while the other goes down to his length. He stares at you, asking for confirmation, and at you “Yes”, he fix himself to slowly get inside you.

Your moans and groans are mixed and drowned by the sound of the party.

“You’re, fuck baby, you’re wrapping me so good.” He praises fall on your deaf ears.

It’s been really fucking long since the last time you got fucked. The memory of the feeling never really goes away, but it’s a whole different aspect to be back to it. Gojo is thick, and long, and he keeps going deeper and deeper, more than you’ve ever had before.

Today is a lucky day for you!

When he stops moving, you frown and groan. Your hips instinctively move, but Gojo let go of your hands to hold it down. He, you think, is a fucking asshole. Satoru is back at sucking your neck, and his own hips are moving very, very fucking slowly. You hate him, and he knows, because he laughs against your skin, after one more of your whining.

“Sorry, baby, but you feel so good like this.”

“You can be stuck inside of me all you want, after you fuck me.”

“Is that a promise?”

You try to answer, but the words filled with sassiness and many swearing get stuck in your throat. In their place comes more moans, the desperate kind that even a hand on your mouth couldn’t muffle it. Gojo picked up his pace, he is giving you exactly what you were begging. That doesn’t mean you are relieved, you are, in fact, going mental.

Your thoughts are spiraling into this new sensation. Getting fucked this deep and this fast is not what you were used to, but you are not complaining, and never will, if this is what’s waiting for you with the others.

Your nails press against Satoru’s back, and his little gasp for air only fuels you to scratch a bit more and more. He, knowing he lost his composure, decides to strike again. Your boobs, bouncing due to his movements, receive extra attention from his salivating mouth.

Gojo and you are fighting for the control of the other. Using the tricks on your (naked) sleeves, playing dirty. It doesn’t matter, because the sensation only keeps growing, to a point where none of this is more important than the other’s body.

You wrap your legs on his waist, and Satoru gets even deeper. He raises himself, grabbing the metal headboard, and using it for his advantage. He is crazy. Mad man, mad thrusts, he is drowning himself in the feeling only your gummy warm walls can provide to his sensitive cock. He feels dizzy, and so do you. But he keeps going, trying to reach the nirvana of those feelings.

“Fuck, fuck ── good, feel so fu-fucking good.” You keep chanting, one hand against your mouth while the other press against his chest. They really are big.

“Yeah?”

“Mm, please, please.”

“What do you want, baby?” Gojo comes back to hold your hips.

You don’t know what you are begging for, and he knows that as well. But is so comically pleasing to have someone getting dumb on your cock, stuffed until you see the budge on their tummy. Eyes rolling back and mouth agape. He knows you are too far gone in the feeling he provides, yet here you stand, begging for more. And who the fuck is Gojo Satoru, if not the man to provide all your demands? You want ── need, more? Have it.

You don’t recall how it happened, because the moment it even began, you saw black points in your eyesight. When your breathing returned to its normality, and your vision cleared, you had one leg on top of Satoru’s shoulders.

And he was, as always, dutifully following his quick pace. Two outcomes could be the end of this new position, either fainting or coming. You wanted to cry, and your body did reacted to this.

“Y’trying to milk me?” Possibly, yes. “Wrapping around me, like that, yeah, just like fucking that.”

Honestly, you barely payed attention to what he was saying. Your focus was on your nerves, how it seemed all of it was being personally affected by Gojo’s aching cock, how your hands were gripping the sheets, and your heart felt like it was burning.

“Argh, I’m ── cum,” You managed to let it slip through your moaned hiccups, and Gojo closed his eyes in concentration.

He pushes your one leg resting on him down, just a bit closer to your chest, and at that you cry out of pleasure. You’re coming on his cock not even a second later, and Gojo just keep moving, thrusting, as if he won’t ever stop. You don’t want him to stop, in fact, you could end this bet and be stuck with him inside of you forever.

Unfortunately, you walls are so tight around him, that you sense his twitching. Gojo gasps and tries to not fail on top of you, when he releases your leg and rests his head on your chest. He keeps coming and coming, until he stops and Satoru is still inside of you.

“Aren’t you going to move?” You wonder, with your shaking fingers caressing his head. Gojo sighs at the feeling, and signs no with his head.

“You said I could be inside you.” Yes, you did.

Gojo reposition both of you, so he is laying down and you on top of him. You both moan at the friction, but he stay still. Having your head resting on his chest, and catching his breathing back. In silence.

Well, except that your thoughts are loud and clear. It’s starting, you think, you’re about to have a fucking great year. With emphasis on fucking.

ᡴꪫ an: well, hello. i don’t think i’ll ever get used to writing smut, but sure as hell, it’s a fucking fun ride! gojo is here, he is not a virgin, and he has condoms, reader keeps winning. so, quick analysis, reader is always talking about her ex, boring, isn’t it? no, wrong answer, we need to understand who this fucker is, what he did, might do, oh, i don’t know. he will be more explained, as the series go on. hihi. honorable mentions to: reader calculating the angle of satoru’s dick, she saying she burned herself with a curling iron, despite her hair being straight for the party, ino’s hickeys, kinji’s nudes, her ex’s small dick, gojo is a king in pussy eating, but you guys haven’t seen nothing. PLS, if you guys have any theories of who is next, who is her ex, anything, comment or send an ask, i love to talk about this series.

🏷️ 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @ducky1232 @mfcherry @minzxec @d3jecteddoll @shuuji71 @emilyywhyy @makeshiftproject @poopooindamouf @ventila98 @faithums @lvingd3adg0rl @starrnai @r0ckst4rjk @lunavelha @catobsessedlady @luvvmae @sjndvi @punkhazardlaw @lemonnotade @luvmeadow @tired-jaz @csxmxx @serenadesvt @ukiyoeangel @satoryaa @madiexuberant

[milkhoon]

Freak — L. Heeseung

⋆ 𐙚 ₊ 𓂃 Pairing: Nerd!Heeseung (Evan) x AFAB!Reader

⋆ 𐙚 ₊ 𓂃 Synopsis: You’ve heard a rumour about the university freak, but is he a freak when all he ever do is just existing? Well, maybe he is. In another term.

⋆ 𐙚 ₊ 𓂃 Content warning: Heeseung as Evan. Nerd and shy Hee, afab readear, mention of bullying a bit (Heeseung or Evan being called freak and people not really befriending him), smut, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, cream pie, slow porn plotting and weird details, mild choking, name calling (doll, princess, good girl, slut). Let me know if I miss any.

⋆ 𐙚 ₊ 𓂃 Word count: 4k

⋆ 𐙚 ₊ 𓂃 Okay, this is obviously my very first post here and it’s a special one cause I write this for my best friend, my baby sister. She asked for this so I hope I won’t disappoint her. Pardon me and my typos or grammatical error too, not beta read yet and English is not my first language. Happiest birthday, A! We all love you so much. May your days get even better after this. XOXO.

© deepblue for the pic. | Minors do not interact.

You have often heard whispers about a “freak” on your campus, but the identity of this figure remained elusive amidst the sea of eccentric individuals inhabiting this quaint little community. It wasn’t until a group project assignment from your professor that you were thrust into an unexpected partnership with a certain Evan.

“Wow, he’s utterly heartless! How could he match you with a freak?” your closest friends exclaimed, perplexed by the professor’s choice.

“A freak?” you queried, raising an inquisitive brow at your friend’s assertion.

“Yes, a freak. Evan is infamous for his weirdness,” your friend continued. "Just observe his attire! Exceptionally dated with thick-rimmed glasses framing his face. And let’s not forget his near-silent demeanor! He rarely engages with anyone!” she elucidated, noting the perplexity on your face.

Was that enough justification for everyone to label Evan as a freak? Who’s to say that the man isn’t simply reserved? Or perhaps he struggles with mental health issues that remain enigmatic to others? You found the rumor weird instead.

“Perhaps he’s just shy. That’s all," you attempted to brush off your friend’s remarks, bidding farewell politely and veering towards a different corridor.

Your destination was to seek out Evan. Absent from the class for undisclosed reasons, your intuition guided you to the library, rumored to be the sanctuary for the misfits and intellectuals alike.

“Hi… you are Evan, right?” you ventured, addressing the figure that resembled your friend’s description. Clad in an old fashioned clothes — an oversized woolen sweater paired with threadbare denims, complemented by circular spectacles framing his slender frame.

Your outstretched hand hesitated momentarily as Evan stood frozen in place, a bewildered and startled expression etched across his features. His eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh, I’m sorry. I am (Y/N). We were meant to attend the same class earlier, yet you were absent. Our professor assigned us a collaborative project. I propose we talk about AI and its impact on artists. Though it may sound cliché, the subject matter is currently hot and widely discussed, right?”

Evan’s ears rang with a deafening silence that drowned out your words, his body tensed in an icy grip. His gaze remained fixed upon your countenance, a figure that had often pervaded his reveries with its ethereal allure.

“Yeah, hot and widely discussed,” he echoed, not in concurrence but to describe the allure you exuded. Hot. Sexy and attractive. Unbeknownst to you, Evan’s subconscious prompted him to discreetly graze his inner cheek, restraining a stray droplet of saliva.

“Great! Let’s meet at Cafe XX this afternoon since we agreed on our project’s topic then!" you said — or rather, not realizing what the man in front of you was thinking. You reached into your bag for a moment and handed him your card, “My number is written here. Call me if you need anything!”

Accepting the card timidly, Evan nodded meekly, he didn’t want you to think he looked stupid.

“Bye, Evan!” you waved a final farewell, departing the library’s confines.

Evan held the business card you gave him. Y/N. Y/F/N. He brought the card closer to his nose and breathed in your lingering scent. Sweet.

You were supposed to meet with Evan this afternoon as per your agreement, but suddenly, a heavy rain shower engulfed the earth without any warning. The sky, previously serene, now bore the burden of heavy rain, casting a pall of uncertainty over the horizon and your heart.

The task needed to be completed within a week, yet you found yourself a day behind the seven-day deadline. You nervously nibbled on your nails, not truly biting, just place the tips of your teeth to your finger. A hint of worry lingered. With one hand holding your phone, you messaged Evan.

You: It seems like we can't work on the task right now. The rain is pouring heavily here. How about tomorrow?

Evan: Oh… Evan: Don't worry. Evan: I can come to your place.

You: My place?

Evan: Don't get me wrong. Evan: I know you can't go out now, so let me. I don't mind the rain. Evan: I mean for us to finish the task quickly.

You: Okay. You: Here's my address. Just come up to the second floor. It's the farthest room. Knock when you arrive.

You breathed a sigh of relief. Evan’s idea wasn’t so bad. If you could finalize the concept today, the next six days wouldn’t pose any problem at all.

YY Street. Heeseung was familiar with the address you had sent. No, do not accuse him of being a stalker! He had never stalked anyone. He just happened to have seen you on that street, entering a three-story building.

Heeseung couldn’t fathom where all the sudden courage had come from that led him to offer the idea of coming to your place. It seemed like he had gone mad; you were driving him further into madness. An anxious restlessness consumed him as he made his way towards your place.

Nothing strange would happen. Yes, nothing would happen.

Repeatedly reassuring himself with those words like mantra, he suddenly found himself standing in front of the building where you lived. The taxi he had ordered departed a minute ago. His feet felt heavy, stepping one by one like a fool.

His hand timidly knocked on the door after successfully passing through the lobby guarded by a vigilant security, which only added to his nervousness. It felt akin to meeting a stern future in-law.

He could hear you shouting from inside, not too loudly, before the brown door creaked open slightly, revealing you peering out.

“Hey, Evan!” you greeted him cheerfully, opening the door wider and welcoming him inside.

Nothing strange would happen. Yes, nothing would happen.

Evan followed behind you like a duckling, then opted to sit on the floor instead of the sofa, perhaps because it was closer to the table. You offered him a drink, and in his shy manner, he left the choice to you. So, you made him a cup of hot chocolate. He must have been cold from braving the rain. Afterwards, you sat by his side, unaware of the palpable tension in his breath.

One hour. Two hours. Five hours passed by quickly for you. Evan was undeniably a shy man. He didn’t speak much, and when he tried, his voice came out squeaky and timid. Unconsciously, you giggled along with your cup of hot chocolate. He was adorable. The rumors about him were truly unfounded.

Oh, at least, that’s what you thought until you realized that the rain showed no signs of subsiding. In fact, it intensified, and you noticed that your room heater wasn’t working properly. You should have complained to the management and requested a maintenance visit. The chilly night air seeping in through the window crevices began to make you shiver. The crop top you wore clearly wasn’t helping, but you felt too lazy to change into warmer clothing, especially with a guest present.

Evan glanced in your direction as you hugged yourself, arms crossed and rubbing your sides. Summoning his courage once more, he asked, “Are you cold?”

Your head automatically turned towards him, lips rounding briefly after hearing Evan’s question. His voice didn’t waver like before. You simply nodded. The rain persisted, the room heater wasn’t functioning properly, and your attire wasn’t providing much warmth. Of course, you were cold.

Approaching you, not too closely, he reached for your hand, his much larger hand enveloping yours. You jumped in surprise but allowed him to hold your hand. You were confident he had good intentions, right?

For a few minutes, everything was quiet, but his hand continued to grip yours and stroke it, providing warmth.

His earnest and genuine demeanor touched you, although it was just a simple gesture. Unconsciously, you leaned in, closing the gap between you. He averted his gaze, now looking at you as if asking if you needed something. In a shy gesture, you unexpectedly kissed his cheek.

He froze, you froze. After a soft exhale, you said, “Um… thank you? You’re so sweet. I couldn’t resist, sorry.”

For a moment, he opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, “Thank you?” was all that came out. You nodded.

“Because you helped me feel warmer,” you explained with a smile. He looked down, his ears turning red, a sign of his embarrassment.

“I can help you feel warmer if you want,” Evan offered in a very soft voice, almost inaudible if you weren’t the only two present in the room. If you hadn’t been paying attention or if you hadn’t been unconsciously focused on him all this time.

“How would you warm me up?” you inquired, prompting him to lift his head again. His round eyes sparkled in the light, truly endearing. It was as if he was questioning you and seeking permission. You nodded faintly.

Still with his hands clasped together, Evan cut the distance between you before one hand came under your chin; bringing you into a small kiss. He kissed your lips, then opened his eyes to reveal his round eyes again. Seeing no resistance from you, he continued. Sucking your lips, kissing them gently before his tongue taps your row of teeth—asking permission to enter. You were happy to welcome his tongue, buying it with yours. Fight for dominance for a while until you finally give in. He explores your entire oral cavity. Then you take more until your saliva drips down, until you run out of breath and slap his chest slowly. That’s when he broke the kiss. But it didn’t stop there, he didn’t let you breathe properly because next, he placed small kisses on the side of your jaw, then down to your neck. Giving you the same small kisses but with fewer sucks and nibbles, you couldn’t help but moan. Damn, he’s really good.

He enjoys every inch of your body, not leaving a single inch without being gently touched. Then, he took you onto his lap. His arms are wrapped intimately around your waist while he himself is busy giving licks to your nipples which are starting to perk up because of the cold air and of course because of arousal. He moved his tongue up and down, not finding the fibers of the clothes still wrapped around your body bothering. He only lifted your crop top a little afterward to do the same to the other nipple. This continues until he feels satisfied licking and sucking your nipples. His other hand suddenly slipped into the mini skirt you were wearing, rubbing your thigh gently but moving upwards. Getting closer to the center of your body. Playing with the hem of your panties, moving to the middle and pressing your lips. He could feel the cotton cloth was wet, he smiled crookedly.

You couldn’t open your eyes properly, not with all Evan’s touches everywhere. When you opened your eyes, it was clear that he was looking at you, writhing in amusement. With a charming smile. He would definitely look better without glasses, you thought. Taking off the glasses that framed his face. Choked up when you saw that his face was even more handsome like this, up close. You moved forward, taking him into a deep, hot kiss as you moved back and forth. Grinding on his thighs.

“Slow down, doll. The night is still young,” he insited while restraining your movements by locking your waist. “I will make sure you are ready first, okay?” he continued the activities that were previously disrupted.

This time he didn’t just rub the outside of your underwear but forced his way inside. Play with your clitoris before inserting a finger. Your eyes rolled, a suppressed moan finally coming out. Tears almost coming out.

“Hurts...” you moaned softly, he stroked your hair gently. Trying to calm you down.

“Shhhh... it’s going to hurt more if I don’t do this, you know it well, princess.” that’s what happened before he moved his fingers forward and back, slowly, slowly and then faster with each passing second. He also added two more fingers into your vagina, making scissor-like movements to prepare you. This continues until the walls of your vagina, which at first were very tight and sucked his fingers, making him wince and think about what would happen if he entered you directly, finally twitch.

“I'm close!” you squealed.

“Take it out, doll. Be a good girl and let it out for me.” he murmurs, still continuing to pound your pussy rapidly with his slender fingers. Not long after, the white liquid came out, soaking your panties which weren’t completely removed as well as Evan’s pants which he was still wearing.

With a satisfied smile, Evan pulled out his fingers from your twisted love tunnel, causing you to whimper with the loss of stimulation. You were drenched in your juices and the scent was intoxicating. He cleaned your thighs with a quick sweep of his thumb, savoring the taste before licking it off.

“Good girl,” he praised affectionately while maintaining eye contact, pushing the hair off your face. He leaned in, giving you another sensual, lust-filled kiss, and then positioned his thick, pulsating cock at your entrance.

The hand that had previously clutching your nape now slid up to cup your cheek. He pushed your panties aside and lower his pants. With a practiced ease, he then forced into you with a slick pop, your walls encircling his member. There was a moment of breathlessness, your eyes locking as he began to move within. In and out, filling you with each stroke as your legs gripped him, keeping him close.

The rhythm steadily built, a counterpoint to your growing sounds of delight. Your nails raked at his shoulders, leaving red trails as you clung to him. Then, the pressure within you seemed to reach the breaking point, a build-up of a storm threatening to burst.

Gasping for breath, you cried out, “Evan, I’m going to… I’m going to...”

Evan responded by increasing the pace, pounding into you mercilessly, his own climax beckoning. “Cum for me, doll,” he growled raggedly, the provocative words adding fuel to the fire that burned within.

The storm broke, the walls of yours being constricted violently, your orgasm crashing through. Keened, your nails digging into his skin, body bucking wildly matched his frenzied tempo, giving everything you had. The sheets beneath began to move, twisted and tangled as you chased the pinnacle of pleasure.

With a deep groan, he stiffened, his own culmination arrived, bathing both of you in his hot seed. He remained inside, holding you tightly as he rode the aftershocks.

Evan suddenly flipped you, making your hair spilling across the bed in a disheveled mess. He pulled out of you slowly, leaving you slick and wanting. As he did, you shifted, your hips still twitching with the lingering sensation of pleasure.

“Don’t be such a greedy slut, stop moving! I’m not done yet,” Evan warned you in a husky voice you never thought would heard before. He gripped your neck, not tight enough to cut off air but close enough to make you aware of his grip. It was a stark contrast to the tender moments, but his desire for control and intimacy was intertwined.

You shivered, your heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement. You nodded, indicating your consent. Evan shifted behind you, positioning himself at you entrance once more. “Ready for more, princess?” He murmured, his breath hot against your ear.

You moaned her response, your body aching for the promised fulfillment. Evan thrust back into you, his grip on your neck steady and firm. The dual sensation of the tight hold and his penetration built a crescendo of arousal within your again. Your mind swam in a hazy mix of trust, risk, and lust.

His movements were rougher this time, the echo of their sounds in the bedroom sharp and animalistic. Evan’s grunts filled the room, mingling with your whimpers and moans, punctuated by the sound of flesh meeting flesh.

You clawed at the bed, nails leaving crescent marks in desperation to find purchase. The friction of his sinful length against your inner walls whipped you closer.

“Evan... I’m close... again,” you gasped, feeling him swell inside. Evan pounded into you even relentlessly, his thrusts unyielding as he guided you to the edge. In a final surge, his release tore through, spilling into you once more.

He then pulled you into his arms after, both of you sprawled on the rumpled sheets. His fingers tangled in your hair, rubbing the tension from your scalp.

You cradled against him, your body still shivering from the intensity of the lovemaking. “You did a great job, princess,” Evan cooed, tugging the strands of your hair playfully, a small smile forming on his lips. He kissed your temple repeatedly as if saying sorry for the brief rude moment before.

Well, maybe your friend was right. He is indeed a freak. But in different term, only for you to notice.

[sir-davey]

King Saul’s evil spirit, also known as the Ruach Ra’ah

I want to show some of the characters from my Saul retelling, The Book of Saul, and one of the major ones that take part of Saul’s life is Ze’ev, who is King Saul’s evil spirit but personified as a spirit always taking the form of a wolf in Saul’s visions.

I have yet to properly introduce him, but I will now lol.

I draw him frequently with Saul and I have a lot planned for him. He’s his own character instead of simply being the vaguely mentioned evil spirit that attacks Saul in the Bible lol. In the story, there’s some heavy lore that Ze’ev carries, and when he first actively interacts with Saul (right after being rejected as king), he becomes Saul’s conscience, and a guide, as he twists truths for his own benefit and amusement.

To summarize Ze’ev’s character, Ze’ev can be interpreted in many ways. He is basically the essence of Saul’s subconscious containing his deepest fears and regrets. Saul’s mentality will be reflected on Ze’ev who guides Saul, seeking truths he desperately yearns for, through 7 seven visions. No matter how hard Saul tries, he cannot escape the spirit always appearing before him. And also, those 7 visions are basically Saul’s hell with different truths revealed to him. Ze’ev finds so much joy in watching him suffer, yet he is able to have Saul always running back to him for help. Ze’ev knows very well that Saul has absolutely no one to turn to as he takes advantage of his helplessness.

As for Ze’ev’s appearance, he is usually a wolf, and there are two reasons why Ze’ev appears as a wolf. One being the tribe symbol for Benjamin, the tribe Saul’s from, which is represented with a wolf, and in the past I had called Ze’ev the “Wolf of Benjamin”, but I ended up changing his name lol. But the second reason resonates with Saul more deeply, where in the story, Saul is terrified of wolves due to traumatic experiences with them, and it comes off basically as a phobia Saul has (I believe the phobia for wolves is called “lupophobia”, that’s what Saul would have oof). But ironically, Saul is from Benjamin, and he’d be surrounded by wolf symbols as a benjaminite king ruling the place. And plus, Ze’ev is almost always a wolf, and if you recall what I’ve said, Ze’ev is the essence of Saul’s mind made up of his darkest fears and regrets while appearing in Saul’s visions.

I could literally go on and on about the evil spirit Ze’ev, but I would be crossing spoiler territory if I do loll.

But some small things about him: Ze’ev shapeshifts a lot, and his form is always moving in place. And he has a HUGE tail that constantly flows.

But lastly, this one means a lot to me lmaoo, but hear me out on this. When it comes to Ze’ev’s voice, I usually either have him speak with both a male and a female voice that intermingles at the same time (for reference, it’s just like Satan’s voice from that creepy Mark Twain clay animation movie. Look it up if you’re curious lol). Or, Ze’ev speaks as a distorted version of Saul’s voice.

Butttt, I can’t help but headcanon his voice as Will Wood when it comes to visualizing him in my head. Ze’ev sings as well (he sometimes sings to lure Saul), and whenever he sings, all I can hear is Will Wood. Ack, Will Wood!!! 🔥 And I know I’m being biased because I LOVE Will Wood (pls if you’re a Will Wood fan you gotta let me know 😭). But outside of the book, I imagine Ze’ev’s voice as Will Wood’s lolllll.

I already have a bunch of Saul and Ze’ev animatics planned, but if I do make an animatic/animation with Ze’ev, it’s going to be a Will Wood song.

[ohnopoteito]

"something about you" ellie × reader

Reader entering a convenience store and falling in love with cashier Ellie.

a/n: Hello again everyone!!! i know it's been a long time since i first posted this fanfic and I'm so sorry for that :( honestly i wasn't expecting all those likes and all 😭😭😭 thank you so much for receiving my work so well!!! I'll organize everything better later bc I'm so tired rn

c/w: i don't know??? maybe low self steem stuff, anxiety knocking reader's door, still a fluff fanfic!!! notproofread (im not wearing my glasses pls) + english is not my first language but feel free to correct me!!! just enjoy it pookies ;))

chapter two ♡

Waking up that morning was just as light as a feather, a slight and good anxiety running through your veins and flesh, boosting your body to jump out of bed and start your day. Good appearance was what you've chosen for the day, wondering even if you should brush your teeth twice before leaving home and head to your mission of the day, get the auburn hair cashier's name or something you could have to be close to her, just the thought of that was enough for a smile from ear to ear to bloom on your face.

Backpack around your shoulders as you left your place and walked with excited silly steps to the convenience store where your heart raced almost passionately. Across the street, you could watch an unknown and masculine figure organizing cardboard boxes in the store facade, scrunching your face and fixing your dirty glasses — the ones you forgot cleaning after saying you'd clean the following day —, you could tell the man had already grey hair and wrinkled face, but he still managed to have a good appearance.

Taking a deep breath and crossing the street, you wondered if it really was a good idea, anxious thoughts wrecking you once again, frowning as you realize your body stading in front of the store for long five minutes. Your breath stuck in your throat, her figure from afar and those beautiful physical traits were carefully perceived by your curious eyes.

Too distracted to even notice the environment around you, a gentle palm rested on your tense shoulder, causing you to jump in response. The same man you eyed before, he smiled at you as his hands brushed his leather coat before speaking.

"Sorry if I scared you." His voice was deep yet caring for you, a faint smile could be seen.

"No, it's fine! I was just... distracted." You spoke up kindly, your hands sweating as your fingers fidgeted to relieve your anxiety. "Sorry for asking, but do you work here?" Was the best you could speak, and the only response you got was a cracked chuckle.

"Guess what, it's a funny part." He said as his long feet stepped a way from you, signing for you to follow him as well. You tilt your head to the side, wondering if you were about to be kidnaped or something, but you follow his path calmly. You stood next to him as his hand raised and pointed to the storefront sign.

"Joel's" you whispered as your eyes scrunched in an attempt to read clearly despite the bright sun making your eyes sting, you could read properly the store's name after having only an blurred image of the sign in your subconscious.

You looked at him, waiting for something, but his smile only grew more. "Guess what my name is." He finally said.

You blinked a few times, guiding your eyes to look around before responding, "Joel?" You sounded unsure. The answer was obvious, but you couldn't believe he'd be so predictable.

He burst in laugh after that, you could just give him a smile back nervously, he was acting like it was the funniest thing ever, you felt guilty for not laughing and looked to the sign again, faking a chuckle as you avoided looking at him.

"Everyone find it funny." He said as his finger brushed his eyelids, wiping away a tear that was about to run down the corner of his eye. You covered your mouth, thinking what just happened.

Your hand followed to the back of your neck, scratching lightly. "Yeah, it's really funny..." you said uncertainly, your words falling falsely from your lips.

"Um, I have... to go, so..." You stuttered as you walked away slowly.

"No problem, dear." He waved gently. You really wanted to find that funny but, god. "We have some products on sale, check them out!

You smiled once again before turning back him and heading to the local market.

As you entered the place, your figure walked to a random section, it was just some snacks in. Your eyes scanned some of them, a sound of the rubber sole of a sneaker sliding across the floor close to you.

"I saw that." The familiar husky voice tone made your body shiver,

Your body turned to face the figure in front of you quickly enough to have a spasm when you met those intense and tired green eyes observing your facial features.

"What?" Your eyes widened.

"You and Joel." she said with a lazy smirk, her arms crossed and her weight shifting to her left leg. "The storefront sign thing." Her eyes looked away, her side profile holding you in a trance. The daylight highlighted her pale skin and the freckles that ran all over her face.

You could swear you've seen a smile on her dry lips. "You were just another victim." She sounded happy, even though her tone of voice made it hard to discern her emotions.

"I wasn't a victim, I just went with the flow." A soft answer, hands touching the shelves to spare all the energy on your nerves, eyes looking at a blind spot behind the auburn girl. A deep breath before finally speaking again.

"Do you also have a different way to present yourself?" You could feel a drop of sweat forming on your scalp. "Like, just as creatively as Joel?"

The girl right before you bit her lip, peeling the dry skin as her eyes were locked on her old black converse.

"No, I'm just ordinary. No signs with my name." She smiled at you. Your heart skipped a beat when her eyes met yours.

"I'm Ellie."

Your smile bloomed sweetly, "cute." You thought

Ellie smiled softly when you told her your name as well, crossing her arms against her chest, her arm tattoo plainly visible. The ink was a bit faded, so you deduced it had been tattooed a long time ago. You couldn't keep the conversation going for more than that. The best you could do was pick a random snack you didn't even like and pay for it, only to see Ellie smiling at you as she handed you your shopping bag.

You kept this way for the rest of the week, waking up earlier, going to Joel's and choosing some product only to see her face and have an ordinary short talk, repeat the last steps after your classes. "Am I being too weird?" You thought with yourself after leaving the local market once again.

Ellie seemed to not care, at least. Maybe she just doesn't care. You should save your money and stop being stupid.

But you couldn't. You pressed your lips tightly as you entered the convenience store after your classes, the guilt making your shoulders heavy and tense. Walking silently through the sections that you had already memorized every product of each one of them, chewing your inner cheek, trying to think straight and stop yourself, you began to feel... sad.

It couldn't be a wasted time walking more than the usual way you took. Shrugging off your thoughts, you grabbed a bottle of water and headed to the checkout counter for the last time, you've promised to yourself. Your eyes avoided Ellie as you watched her take the bottle and scan it.

"You good?"

She was the one to speak first, her fingers lightly caressing her eye bags, her eyes fixed on you. It was as if everything had just stopped around you; you couldn't listen to a single word. Her lips were moving, but you couldn't understand a thing. Your mind went blank. You could only shake your head slowly, blinking in an attempt to wake yourself up from that trance.

"Um?" You hummed, your mouth went dry.

And she... laughed?

"What?" You asked again, your eyes laid on the chunky notebook next to the cash register before returning to Ellie.

"I asked if you're fine." She muttered, handing you the plastic bag. "You look disoriented today. Just worried."

At least you know she doesn't hate you, you let out a sigh in relief.

"Ah, I see..." You swallowed, holding the plastic bag and feeling the tip of her fingers brushing lightly against yours. "Maybe I am."

You squeezed the bag slightly, letting your palm feel the cold water drops sweating the plastic.

"I hope you figure it out." Her voice was soft. Your lips formed a thin smile. Her tone sounded just as sincere. You didn't know much about Ellie, and she was in the same boat as you. She couldn't push boundaries either, and she still could understand your odd behavior even if it wasn't her business. A safe distance.

"Don't need to pay for it, by the way." She rested her left hand on the back of her neck, massaging the area.

"What? But i want to." You answered.

"No, you don't." You frowned as she turned her back to you and began to look for something in her old backpack, a spaceship pin decorating the blue fabric. "Consider it as a gift, will you?"

You couldn't hold your tongue much longer. "Why is that?"

She didn't answer you immediately, Ellie spent some seconds in silence.

"You know, you're a frequent customer and polite... I mean, I just think some good action would make your night better." She sounded nonchalant, but you could hear a "Man..."

"I don't know, I'm not the best at cheering people up. Sorry." She spoke again before turning back to you. "Here, for you."

A dinosaur sticker pad, in the same art style as the others you'd seen around the store, the same as the one on the cover of her notebook. One sticker pad with four dinosaur stickers on it.

Your smile was sincere and bright as a sunshine, tilting your head to the side, you admired the art style and Ellie's cute actions.

"This is the best I can do... for now." Her hands rested on her hips. She was wearing old, faded, skinny jeans and her uniform shirt. Her teeth peeled the dry skin of her lips.

"It's perfect, thank you." Your smile didn't fade away.

It wasn't a kid sticking dinosaur images after all; it was just Ellie. The auburn-haired girl, the one with an intimidating posture and such an intense gaze, with those beautiful green eyes that could make your knees weak. She was just someone trying to cheer up a frequent customer, wasn't she?

Your eyes fixed on her freckles, overthinking again. Wondering if you should postpone asking for her number. You couldn't screw that up.

"Ellie?" You called her name, feeling your body shiver just by saying her name. Your skin felt warm as her eyes met yours again, those green orbs focusing solely on you.

Were you seeing things? Or Ellie seemed... interested in what you had to say? No, not at all.

"Um?" Her eyebrows rose slightly, a relaxed expression on her face. She seemed tired, just like the last day, but not uninterested.

"I..." You laughed nervously, already regreting the other words you were holding in your throat. Nails scracthing the back of your neck as you looked around, "I don't know if I should say this." A nervous smile made Ellie tilt her head to the side, the poorly tied bun left some strands of hair coming out.

"Why? Is there something off?" She asked as her gaze frowned.

Your fingers caressed the sticker pad. "It's just that... I wish I had more knowledge about dinosaurs." It was true, indeed. You would learn everything just to talk to her. You looked at her again, her head lowered, her sneaker sole playing with the floor.

Your tired eyes landed on her figure. You weren't really expecting an answer. You had just thought aloud, and you were okay with that. You were okay with her silence, the lack of dialogue between you. The silence was friendly. It felt good.

"I can teach you." She almost whispered; she wasn't looking at you, but you were noticing every detail of her body language. "If you're okay with that, of course."

You were both blushing, your heart beating so fast you were almost sure you would pass out. Your blood rushed to your feet, preparing you to run. But you didn't want to; anxiety is so dumb.

"This is so stupid. I don't even know why I said that. Sorry." She brushed her palm over her face. You frowned lightly, concerned.

"No! It's fine, I'd love that, honestly." You waved to her, "I just..." You bit your inner cheek, heart beating faster.

"I wanna talk to you more. If you're okay with that too."

Ellie smiled at you, a thin smile to you as her eyes seemed to smile as well. You could feel the butterflies in your stomach. Ellie was something you had never experienced before.

"Can I get your number?" she stuttered.

!!!

omg guys it's so stressful to write dialogues 😩

anyway i hope everything is okay and in place!!!

taglist 💋💋💋!!!

thank you again everyone!!!

@yourelliewillms

@lil-elliesgf

@seraphicsentences

[vashs-turtleneck]

Say my name.

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) Summary: After your heartfelt reunion with your boyfriend, Vash realizes how much he's missed hearing you say his name. Pairing: Eriks!Vash x fem!reader Word count: 6.5k Content: smut, angst, established relationship, oral, p in v sex, reunion sex, very service top Vash A/N: bro this took me so long. I put more effort into this than anything else I have ever written. Anyway, this is my first ever smut fic so uh please enjoy (had to make it eriks because he does things to my brain chemistry)

NSFW below, 18+ only, minors do not interact!

Vash holds your hand through the rickety, quaint house, helping guide you as you walk, avoiding the floorboards he knows creak louder than the others. As much as Granny and Lina adore you, he didn't feel like explaining why he was sneaking you in so late at night. Not only that, he didn't want to explain your relationship to them just yet. After all, the two of you haven't even gotten the chance to properly talk yet, about what your reunion after his two year absence means for you both.

Vash finally guides you into his little bedroom, quietly shutting and locking the door behind you two. He cringes at the how the door hinges creak loudly into the hallway, hoping it wasn't enough to wake anyone.

"So 'Eriks', huh? Did you pick the name all by yourself?" You tease him as your eyes dart around the room, taking in the space your lover has been living in these passed two years. Or... he was your lover. Is he still your lover? For all you know he found someone else during his time here. No, wait, that can't be right. He just snuck you into his bedroom.

Vash chuckles quietly, his gaze never leaving you. "Yeah... guess I did."

You can feel his eyes burrowing into you. His gaze follows you as you curiously take in the room, as you pat the bed draped in old linens, as you look out the window, taking in the scenery, the stars and moons illuminating the sky above. You've always had a tendency to look up at the sky.

God, you're as beautiful as he remembers.

He's pulled out of his own thoughts when you speak again, realizing he's been staring at you the whole time.

"Nice little spot you have all to yourself. Sheryl and Lina are both so sweet. They really do love you, I can tell. They're like family now, hm?" You say as your eyes finally meet his, your voice remaining soft, yet a hint of somberness weaving its way in. "You... You have a good life here."

You feel your heart start to beat faster, your head filling with a million questions that you're almost too scared to know the answers to. What if there was no room for you in his life anymore? What if he wanted to leave everything about his old self in the past, including you? What if, what if, what if...

You start to absentmindedly pick at the skin around your nails and rubbing your palms, subconsciously trying to calm and ground yourself. You're starting to lose yourself to your own mind, horrible thoughts filling your head like a poison.

Vash immediately notices the change in your tone, the subtle, shaky uncertainty in your voice, the way you anxiously play with your hands... Old habits die hard, huh?

"I do. The people here have been very kind to me. It's mostly quiet, apart from when I get myself into trouble. I'm grateful every day for it."

He takes a step towards you, his arms outstretched slightly.

"But, my life here is... incomplete without you by my side, mayfly."

He wants to hold you, feel your body against his, remind himself that you're really here, but he hesitates. What if you despise him for abandoning you? For leaving you behind to think he was dead? Worse, what if you hate him for the sins he's committed? For destroying July and taking the lives of its people? Not that he could ever blame you if you did. He hates himself for it. It's the whole reason he left you behind in the first place. How could he ever face you again after he became the walking demon with the 60 billion double dollar bounty on his head? He deserves every bit of venom spat his way for the things he's done, every bit of the nickname 'The Humanoid Typhoon'.

Yet, despite how much he knows he doesn't deserve you, he wants you so bad. Every moment without you had been agony. He didn't know where you were, how you were doing, if you were even alive. Hell, he wondered if he killed you in July too. So when he finally saw your face again, he swears he felt his heart beat for the first time in two years.

"Mayfly, I... I don't deserve you. I don't. I'm a monster." He takes another step towards you, trying to bridge the gap between you both. "...but I can't live without you. I... I need you. Here. With me."

He's fighting back tears, trying desperately to keep himself together. His vision is blurring from the tears pooling in his eyes, and all he can see is your wide-eyed expression. You're so beautiful, even if you might be about to break his heart.

"If you don't feel the same, I understand. If you want to hit me and yell at me for all I've done, I won't put up a fight. If... If you hate me-" Vash's words are cut short when you rush towards him and plant your lips against his in a feverish kiss, throwing your arms around his shoulders and clinging to him desperately.

Vash stays motionless and rigid in a moment of shock before he's flooded with relief at the feeling of your lips, your body, just you. His prosthetic naturally encircles your waist, pulling you in closer as his flesh hand tenderly cups your cheek, tilting your head to meet his lips with a practiced touch that makes it feels like you were never apart.

You became a shell of a person the day you watched him fall from the sky, like an angel stripped of their wings. You spent the passed two years believing, convincing yourself he had to be alive, or else you would have been lost completely.

With his lips finally pressed to yours, you feel whole again.

Vash can feel your lower lip tremble against his own, your tears mingling with his against both your faces as you each pull the other closer, closer, until there's no space left between your bodies, his stubble scratching your chin.

Your lips meet again and again, each kiss more desperate than the last, pants and sobs and the sounds of lips smacking filling the otherwise dead silent room.

"I missed you." You breathe against his lips, voice cracking from the overwhelming feelings of relief, love, and pain flooding you.

And Vash whines in turn, prosthetic tightening its grip around you.

"I missed you too. So much. Every day I thought about you." He whispers back, his voice strained, flesh hand pulling your face closer by the back of your neck. "I love you, I love you, I missed you."

"Love you too. Missed you so much..." Your voice comes out as a sob, trembling and broken. Your hands tangle into his soft locks. His hair is much longer now, the golden blonde mixing with dark raven.

You feel his tongue tease your lower lip, the warm muscle begging for entry, and you're happy to grant it. When your tongues entangle, he feels himself shudder with want, his body heating up as he gets reacquainted with the taste of your mouth. His hands move down your body, sliding down your waist, past your hips, and hooking themselves beneath the plush of your thighs. He lifts you up with ease, encircling your legs around his waist.

It's not close enough. He needs you closer.

He carries you to the edge of his bed, gently lowering you and as he towers over you, broad shoulders caging you in beneath him. He pulls himself from your lips and holds his weight on his hands, palms against the mattress beside your head. His face is flushed, lips wet with your kiss.

Vash is silent as he looks at your face, tears still staining his cheeks, his gaze reverent and adoring, yet filled with tragedy, like he almost doesn't believe you're real. His flesh hand cups your face again. His thumb traces your lips, your cheekbone, your jawline, his palm resting against your cheek. He takes in your features, committing the way your face has changed over the past two years to memory. You have new lines around your eyes, signs of how time kept passing for you, even without him around, signs of aging that he knows you won't see on his face. Fuck, he's lost this precious time with you, years he'll never be able to get back. Gone, just like that.

He'll be damned if he loses anymore time with you.

His hand trails down, thumb sliding along the side of your neck, down to the bit of your collarbone peeking from under your shirt. His breath hitches at the feeling of your soft skin beneath his hands, how your legs stay wrapped around his hips, your arms clinging to his shoulders like a lifeline. He can feel your body heating up at his touch, like it remembers him. He's missed you. He's missed your touch. So much.

"Please, I- I need to see you. Please." He begs, voice already breathless and needy.

"N-Need to see you too. I need you so much." Your voice comes out as a pathetic whine, but at this point you don't care. He's here. You have him again. You need him.

Vash wraps his prosthetic around your waist as he gently lifts your upper body up enough to pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside. With your shirt finally off, you can feel contrast of his arms on your body, the cool metal of one, and the warmth of the other.

"I missed you. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for leaving you, mayfly. I'm so-"

You stifle his apologies with another hot kiss, your hands weaseling between your bodies and working quickly to take off his white button-up. Your fingers fumble with the buttons until his shirt is open, exposing the scarred muscles beneath. His hands leave you for just long enough to push the fabric off his shoulders. When his shirt is finally off, both his hands move to the back of your neck, pulling you in for another heated kiss, making you both groan into each other's mouths.

Your hands trail along his chest and back, tracing over the myriad of rough, raised flesh. Your touch is gentle, as though you're trying to heal him. He wishes you could. He wishes your touch could take away his 150 years of anguish, only made worse in your absence, and heal this body he's so carelessly destroyed. Yet, he knows he deserves every bit of it for what he's done. If nothing else, at least your touch is a momentary reprieve from it all, a moment for him to just be.

His hips twitch when he feels your hands trail down his chest, over his abdomen, to the hem of his pants, fingers working to undo his belt and buttons, working them off his body.

"M-Mayfly..." Vash mutters, his breath hot against your face. He works the rest of your clothes, practiced hands swiftly unclasping your bra before moving to peel off your pants, tossing the garments somewhere in the room, leaving you both in just your underwear.

Vash gently pushes your shoulders, moving you slowly like you're made of glass and laying you flat against the bed. He sits back on his knees to get a good look at you, propping himself between your thighs, his half-lidded eyes practically glowing as he drinks you in.

You're suddenly filled with this overwhelming shyness as you're laid almost completely bare in front of him. It's been so long since you've been looked at like this, and you can feel the heated rising to your face. Your body has naturally changed since he's last seen you, and the thought that he'll be disappointed weasels its way into your head, flooding you with insecurity. Without thinking about it, your hands move up to cover yourself, draping your arms over your chest and stomach.

Vash's gaze break from your body before darting up, his eyes softening when he sees your blushing and flustered face.

"Oh, sweetheart..." he coos, bringing himself down to pepper your face with soft kisses, stubble grazing your face. "Come on now. Don't hide from me. Please? I want to look at you. I love looking at you." His large hands gently wrap around your wrists, trying to coax you to uncover yourself. "Please. Let me see you. I missed looking at you so much."

Oh, how silly you are to think he'd look at you with anything but pure adoration and worship. He's only ever shown you love and acceptance, just as you have shown him. Vash can't even fathom the idea that you'd see yourself as anything other than breathtakingly perfect. Your body is his place of worship, every sound you make a prayer.

So, with a quiet whine, you let him pull your arms from your body, his hands gently pinning your wrists next to your head flat against the mattress.

"There you are..." Vash whispers adoringly, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of your nose before leaning back again to look down at you.

He takes in the sight of you beneath him for the first time in two years, his hands letting go of your wrists and tracing up and down your curves slowly, savoring the feeling of your warm and soft flesh. The world hasn't been kind to you in his absence, your body baring new scars he knows weren't there before, and he hopes to God you didn't get all those looking for him, sacrificing yourself for his unworthy soul.

"So beautiful, mayfly." Vash purrs. His hands trail up your middle, up your sternum, before parting to grope your breasts, thumbs rolling over the perked buds. The act sends a wave of heat straight down between your legs, your hips involuntarily writhing against the bed. In turn, your reaction makes Vash suck in a breath, his hips gently grinding against the plush of your thigh, letting you feel his hardened cock.

You both need this. Badly.

"Mmph- you like that, huh, baby? That feel good?" Vash whispers, voice hoarse with desire as he circles his thumbs over your nipples again, this time rolling his hips right against your clothed sex.

You howl at the pleasure, hips bucking to meet his own. You bite your lower lip to muffle your cries, nodding your head up at your lover. "M-Mhmm!"

With a lewd grunt, Vash brings his head down, pressing his lips to your inviting body. He sucks on your neck, nibbling and licking slowly and sensually, finding the spots he remembers would make your breath hitch, your back arch, and your grip tighten around him. He lets out a deep groan against your neck when you react the way you used to, your voice pitching up to a needy, wanton moan when he sucks on your neck just right. You tangle your fingers in his hair as shivers dance up your spine, rolling your hips up against his.

He leaves a trail of kisses along your form, giving special attention to any scars he comes across along the way, just as you had done for him countless times before. His lips reach your chest, kissing along your sternum before moving his mouth to one of your breasts, his skillful lips enveloping your perked nipple, tongue circling the peak. His hand moves up to massage your other breast, kneading the soft flesh in his palm.

And you can only do what your body tells you to, your voice quivering into what only comes so naturally to you when he's worshipping your body like this.

"Vash." His name leaves your lips as a broken moan, but they hit him like a typhoon, shattering him to pieces.

Vash's body tenses, all his actions pausing as his lips part from your nipple with a quiet smack, his hot, ragged breaths against the wet skin of your breast. He tilts his head up, bringing his face closer to yours, letting your noses brush and his forehead press intimately against yours. His beautiful baby blues drink you in, eyes upturned into a longing, pleading stare. His eyes captivate you, trapping you under his gaze. From this close, you feel like you could drown in them.

"Please... Say it again." His voice is raw, fragile, and begging.

You have to blink yourself out of your trance, completely ensnared by him. Even though he's the one begging you right now, with that look on his face, you'd do anything he asked. So, without hesitation, you say it again.

"Vash."

And he whimpers.

A name he hasn't heard in two years, lost to his new life. A name that, despite the heavy weight it carries now, was gifted to him by someone very important. A name that has always rolled of your tongue with a softness he never felt he deserved, that he used to hear you cry out over and over when your voice was pulled taut with pleasure. His name.

He didn't realize how much he missed hearing it, and especially how it sounds leaving your lovely lips.

"Again. Please."

"Vash."

"One more time. I beg you."

"Vash."

Vash groans again, his eyes fluttering before pressing his lips to yours again, catching your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulls away.

"Mmph... Fuck, mayfly. The things you do to me."

His lips capture yours in a hot, wet kiss, tongues tangling, his hips undulating against yours and seeking out that little bit of friction between your bodies. He can feel the heat coming off your core against his hard cock, and his mouth waters as he thinks about how wet you must be right now.

"Need to taste you, mayfly."

Vash pulls back before he stands up between your legs and pulls you by your hips to the edge of the bed, grinding himself against your thigh again. His fingers hook to the elastic of your panties, his eyes not missing the wet spot forming on them already before meeting your gaze again. "Let me take these off you, baby."

And fuck, you are absolutely reeling right now, barely able to form a thought as he continues to handle your body with so much care and deadly precision, like he know it better than you. And really, he does. Despite the time you two have spent apart, his confidence in his knowledge of your body and his desire to please you is naturally weaving its way back into his mind like it's pure instinct. You can't tear your eyes from him as he stares down at you with the darkened, hungry eyes of a man that looks like he's just found his first sip of water in days on No Man's Land.

He tilts his head as you stare at him silently, taking in your half-lidded, hazy eyes. His fingers unhook from your panties, palms resting against your thighs.

"Mayfly? Do you want me to? I won't do it unless you tell me to."

You whimper needily, shifting your hips back and forth, unintentionally teasing him as your body begs for more of him.

"Please. Please, Vash. I need you to touch me." You beg, your voice shaking. You need him right now, both body and mind begging him to do something, anything to ease the ache between your thighs.

With a smirk that flashes his sharp canines and sends another shivering wave of heat to your core, Vash swiftly pulls your panties down your legs, letting them drop to the floor.

With you completely exposed to him now, Vash hooks his hands under your thighs, pressing your legs up and opening you up to himself, spreading you out on the mattress before him and watching as your slick drips from your sex as he practically folds you in half.

"Breathtaking." He purrs, staring down at your sweet flesh. "And so wet already."

"It's... It's because of you." You say back, your voice a pathetic, high-pitched whimper, feeling yourself pulse with anticipation.

Vash chuckles breathily, his eyes never leaving your sopping cunt as he lowers himself to his knees, propping himself between your thighs.

"I know it is."

With a soft sigh, Vash presses his tongue against your cunt, taking his time as his licks his way from your dripping entrance all the way up to your clit, gathering your sweet juices on the flat of his tongue with an audible eagerness. His mouth presses a fiery kiss to your clit, his lips wrapping around your little sensitive bud as his tongue flicks it with a skillful precision that is downright deadly, like it's all muscle memory coming back to him in this moment, as though his place in this world is right here between your thighs.

For Vash, you truly are an oasis on this desolate planet. In a life that's been so lonely and so filled with tragedy, you have been a solace that he never felt he deserved, yet he selfishly let himself indulge in. After being by his lonesome for so long, how could he ever turn away from your open arms? You unconditionally loved and accepted his broken mind and tattered body, and he was never able to deny your affections, no matter how much he told himself he didn't deserve them.

You are the only piece of heaven he's ever had.

"Mmmh... Taste so good, angel." He coos against your sex, licking his lips of your slick before tonguing another stripe up your cunt. "It's been too long. I'm absolutely parched for you, baby."

"Oh fuck, Vash!" You gasp out, your hands moving to tangle through his two-toned hair, holding it back and away from his face. You can feel his stubble grazing your plush folds as he eats you.

"Say it again, mayfly." He mutters against your cunt, the vibrations from his voice sending shocks of pleasure coursing through you.

Your mind is a pleasure-filled haze. You're barely able to think as your lover positively devours you, gorging himself on your dripping sex like it's more for his own pleasure than it is for yours.

"Ahh... w-wha-?" You manage to mumble, barely understandable.

His head pops up from between your thighs, hungry baby blues staring back up at you.

"My name. Say my name again for me, angel. Please."

"V-Vash..."

He growls as he dives back down to your cunt, his tongue teasing your entrance as his nose presses against your clit.

"Say it softer. Please."

"Vash..."

"Say it louder."

"Vash!"

His hips rut against the mattress as he pleasures you, pathetically rubbing his still-clothed cock against the old linen in tandem with his mouth. He can feel his boxer-briefs soaking up the pre-cum from his engorged tip. His body is aching for you, but he'll be damned if he doesn't make you come on his tongue at least once before he fucks you. He needs to taste you as you come.

His right hand slowly trails up the soft meat of your thigh, fingers dancing along your hot skin until they reach your pulsing flesh, swirling his fingers over your wet heat. Then, he gently presses his middle finger inside you, the long digit curling and pressing against your warm walls, gently stretching you as he takes you apart from the inside out.

You have to throw your hand over your mouth to keep yourself from crying out in white hot pleasure, hips undulating against his mouth and hand, seeking out more of the pleasure he's giving you.

"This okay, mayfly? Feeling good?" Vash whispers before circling his tongue over your clit again.

You don't trust yourself to speak right now, instead nodding your head frantically as you moan and wail silently against your hand.

Vash groans hoarsly when he sees just how well he's taking you apart, eyes fluttering closed as he focuses entirely on your pleasure. When he feels your body relax around his finger, he slips in a second digit, his dexterous middle and ring fingers meticulously and lovingly abusing that sweet spot inside you until he has you seeing stars behind your eyelids.

Your hand gently tugs at his hair, biting into your palm and clenching your eyes tight, your thighs trembling against his head. You pull your hand away from your lips just long enough to call out to him, your voice breaking, your body ready burst, "Vash! M' gonna c-come..."

He growls against you when he hears his name leave your sweet lips in a such desperate tone, tongue lapping away at you more eagerly, your juices dripping from his hand.

"Yes, baby. Come. Come all over my tongue. Wanna taste you..." he grunts, panting as he fucks you with his tongue and fingers and grinds himself against the mattress. Fuck, he's gonna come all over himself if he doesn't reel it back.

His mouth devours you, digits pumping faster into your fluttering cunt as he chases your high.

When Vash feels your body tighten and convulse against his fingers, your sweet whimpers filling his ears, he moans louder than you, as if your pleasure is his pleasure, and it takes every bit of willpower in him to not come along with you.

Vash has always denied himself the pleasures in life, deeming himself unworthy for the sins he believes he's committed. But when it comes to you, to your pleasure, he's always eager to let himself indulge, his tongue lapping away at your sex like your come is a reward for his efforts until his mouth is dripping with you.

When he feels your body relax, your muscles unflexing, he licks one last strip over your cunt before pulling his mouth and fingers away. He licks your sweet cream from his digits, his other hand removing the boxers that have grown unbearably tight from his lower half. Slowly, almost like he's reluctant to leave his place from between your thighs, he raises himself up and towers over you again.

"You're so perfect, angel." He whispers, voice hoarse with desire, and you can see his need from the way his cock twitches as he stares down at you, his big hands holding you by the softness of your thighs. He brings his pelvis forward, gliding the hard length of himself along your dripping pussy, coating himself with a mix of your come and his own saliva.

"Vaaash~" You call to him weakly, your head still fogged from your intense orgasm, but your body craving him. Your hips rise to meet his own, and he grinds against you more desperately.

"You want this, angel? Wanna feel me inside you?" His tone is breathy and light, almost teasing, but you know more than well enough that what he's seeking right now above all else is your consent. How you got so lucky as to find yourself such a caring and thoughtful man (plant) is beyond you.

"Want it more than anything, angel." You purr back, using the loving nickname he's given you back at him as your hands reach for his shoulders. Because let's be honest, if anyone is deserving of the nickname, it's him.

A soft smile crosses his face when he sees you reach for him and, like a moth to a flame, he leans down towards your touch. One of your hands clasp over his shoulder, gripping him and pulling him closer to you. The other traces your thumb over his cheekbone, your finger dancing over that adorable birthmark under his left eye.

"Don’t go stealing my words now, mayfly." He teases back before his lips cover yours. When he pulls away, you feel him pant against your face, his body shaking and his cock gliding over you folds. Despite how much he's been holding back, putting your pleasure far before his own, you can feel now just how badly he wants this. He's at his limit.

Still, a pang of concern crosses over his handsome features, always thinking of you despite the agony he's in right now.

"If... If it hurts, I want you to tell me. Tell me and I'll sto-" You shush him before he can keep going, your thumb quickly moving from his cheekbone to his lips.

"You won't hurt me, Vash." You whisper tenderly, trying to ease the worries undoubtedly forming in that pretty head of his.

Hìs face softens again, his expression changing from one of concern to one that can be described as nothing short of reverent. His eyes might as well be hearts from the amount of love you see in them. With a shaky sigh, he nods his head once, and you move your hand from his face to his other shoulder, holding him tightly against you.

"Alright." He places doting little kisses to your temple and cheek, his hands on your thighs gently parting your legs further. "Let me take care of you, mayfly."

One of his arms weaves its way between your bodies, grasping his cock and aligning himself with your inviting entrance, placing a gentle pressure against your core with the tip of his cock. Vash's gaze never breaks from yours as he slowly sinks himself into your tight heat, the head of his cock splitting you open as he sheaths himself inside you, his mouth falling agape with a mewling whimper as he feels every inch of your sweet warmth.

Your breath hitches as he presses himself inside you slowly, your body taking him inch by sweet inch until he gently bottoms out, your nails digging slightly into his broad shoulders. You can feel him stretching you out on his thick cock, a mixture of the sweet sting and pleasure filling your entire body. You take in deep breaths to calm and relax yourself, your eyes fluttering up at your lover.

You're everything he's ever wanted, everything he's ever needed, everything his soul craves and begs for. He caresses your thigh and whispers between gasping breaths, a sweet smile on his face as your catch your breath, "You're okay, mayfly. Relax. Take your time. Tell me how you feel. I'm here with you, all the way." He coos, peppering your cheeks and neck with soft kisses as he whispers gentle words of praise and encouragement. His expression is one of pure love and adoration, seeing your body relax as you adjusts to his, your walls moulding to his cock, your breath slowly coming back to you.

"A-Ah... I need you to move, Vash. I think I'll explode if you don't move right now." You whine, hips bucking and writhing against his own, begging him to fuck you already.

His adoring smile never falters, chuckling breathily as you beg for him.

Fuck, he's missed feeling needed.

"Well, we wouldn't want that now, would we?" He teases with a shit-eating grin that splits his perfect face. He places a tender kiss between your brows before gazing back down at you.

"Hold on tight now," he purrs against the shell of your ear, tightening his grip on your thigh, his prosthetic palm pressing against the mattress by your head. He's trying so hard to keep himself together, but you can feel his arm shaking from the sheer euphoria as he supports his weight.

Gently, he pistons his hips against yours, his cock gliding along your inner walls at a sweet and tender pace and giving you the chance to adjust to the feeling of him stretching you out. As fogged as his mind is right now in a haze of lust and need, he is still acutely aware of you, and it would break him more than anything if he hurt you.

Vash stares down at where you two connect so intimately, watching how your body engulfs his cock over and over and coats his shaft with your arousal.

"You feel so good, mayfly. Taking me so well, like your body remembers me," Vash praises you sweetly, his face falling to the crook of your neck.

"V-Vash..." you mewl, thighs gripping his waist tighter, cushioning his hips as he pumps you full of himself. "Feels so good. M-More, please. I need you more."

"Of course. I'll give you more," he whispers, his voice dripping with tender affection as his hands move to your thighs, lifting them up and hooking your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half again. You moan wantonly at how deeply he can reach in this position, the head of his cock kissing your cervix.

Vash increases the pace, his thrusts gradually growing more deliberate and quick, pumping into you so deliciously that he wrings out every sweet sound you can make from your throat. He rocks his hips, his muscles tightening and relaxing as he pushes himself all the way in and pulls back out again, letting himself feel every inch of your velvety walls. Every pump of his hips has him pulling himself out to the hilt, leaving just his hot tip inside, giving you no time to breathe before he pushes himself back inside again, fucking you deeper and harder than before. Every time he pulls out, he sees your lips part slightly as you wait for him to ram back inside. And he does, over and over, making both of you moan louder as the room fills with the sounds of skin slapping.

"I love you, I love you! P-Please, please don't leave me behind again. Stay. I need you!" You cry out in rapture, tightening your grip around him and pulling him so his patchwork chest is against yours, your breasts squeezing and bouncing against his pecs.

"I'm here, mayfly. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I can't- I'd die without you. I love you too much." He grunts against the side of your face, the sound of his labored breaths filling your ears.

He thrusts into you faster and harder now, the withered bed creaking and groaning beneath you both along with the sounds of your pleasured cries.

"Mmm~ Vash... Feels too good. Gonna come. Gonna make me come."

Your words break the last bit of restraint in his lovedrunk mind, grunting loudly against your ear.

"Fuck, say it again. Say it- Say it like you missed me. Like you thought of me every day. The way I thought about you."

"Vash!"

You can feel your body quivering and pulsing around him, and it only makes Vash moan louder, your pussy practically sucking him back in every time he pulls away. He moves a hand from your thigh to thumb at your swollen clit, desperate to feel you come undone around him.

"That's it. That's it! Mmm fuck~ I can feel it. Say it as you come all over me, baby. Please. Please."

Your orgasm hits you like a sandsteamer, your back arching harshly off the bed before you even have the chance to cover your mouth, crying out his name with a melodic and broken moan.

"Va- Vash!"

He's quivering, his grunts and breaths shaky as he feels your pussy clench around his aching cock like your body is trying to milk him for all he's worth.

"Ahh- S' too good... M' gonna c-come, mayfly. Gonna come with you."

Vash bites his bottom lip, trying to stifle the sounds of pure agonizing rapture, only for your name to leave his lips like a beautiful song to the heavens as he spills himself deep inside your heat. His hips stutter as he fills you with his hot come until you feel like you're bursting, hips slowing and gently rocking into you as you both ride out your highs until they gradually come to a stop. He feels his muscles go limp, pressing his weight down on you more than he means to as he collapses against your smaller frame. He covers your temple and cheeks with weak, tired kisses, whispering sweet words of affection until you've both gathered your minds a bit more.

"I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you." He chants over and over again with every breath like a prayer, eyes closed, relishing the feeling of euphoria filling his body.

He stays inside you well after you've both come down for your climaxes, cockwarming you on his thick shaft like he can't bare the thought of ever being separated from you again. But when he feels his cock softening, he carefully pulls out of you with an almost pained groan, disappointed at the loss of your warmth but his body completely satisfied and drained regardless. When he sits back on his knees and sees his seed spilling from your dripping hole, he groans, cursing under his breath. The sight is enough to get him hard all over again.

_________________________

After a night full of round after round of hot and passionate lovemaking, your exhausted bodies lay beside each other. The sheets are wet and tangled, your bodies slick with a mix of your arousals, but you're both far too content and tired to care about the mess right now, enveloped in each other's embrace.

"Mmh... bed's comfy. I see why you like it here," You coo against his head, his hair tickling your nose.

"Having a bed to sleep in has definitely been nice. Beats sleeping out in the desert," He mumbles and pulls you in closer to himself, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble scratching at your skin.

"But this bed might as well be a bed of sand if I can't sleep in it with you, mayfly."

"Always such a smooth talker," you chuckle at him. Then, your smile turns to a look of reluctance as you gently raise your head. "But I should probably go, huh? Don't wanna explain to Granny and Lina what I was doing here in the morning."

"Well, you were doing me." Vash snickers back at you, eyebrows wiggling teasingly.

"You're hilarious," you scoff with a deadpan stare, but you can't help the little amused smirk forming on your lips, "I'm glad to see your sense of humor hasn't gone anywhere."

He chuckles against the hollow of your throat, his lips ghosting over your skin.

"I know, I know. It's just one of my many charms."

"You won't need to say anything to them. I'll do all the explaining for you." His grip tightens around your waist, any thoughts of leaving the bed vanishing from your mind. How could you leave after everything that's happened? After you've both finally found your ways back to each other?

"Besides, they might already know you're here. We weren't exactly... uh, quiet." He chuckles nervously, and you can feel his face heating up as he thinks about just how much noise the two of you were making. You feel your own face heat up too. Yeah, the morning's gonna be a bit awkward.

Vash grips you tighter, his warm body flush against yours, clinging to you.

"Stay, mayfly. I need you."

Your body settles back into the bed, cuddling yourself up against the man you love most, and the world feels a little brighter.

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

[rxzennia]

with love, happy birthday

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 happy (late) birthday, kakavasha. somewhat established relationship, pet names, aventurine’s real name, sleepy/ affectionate aventurine who’s probably very ooc. a quick one (i lied, this is like 2k worth of yapping and its 12am) because i was busy playing the update and haven’t been writing at all; i hope i did his lore justice ;-;

kakavasha stirs as the sun shines in his face. weird, doesn’t he usually have an alarm set? or, at the very least, don’t you usually wake him up?

he feels around the bed for you, but his hand lands on smooth scales instead of you. when he reaches further, he grabs a handful of sheets, and he realizes you’ve gotten up before him and left a few of your serpents with him. he sits up with a yawn, his hand subconsciously seeking out the creature curled up into a ball next to him.

“mm, where’s your…” kakavasha takes a moment to find a word to describe you, and he very quickly gives up. it’s too early for this. “where’s your main body?”

main body…? i mean, he was almost going to say “host”, like… possessed host? parasite host?

the serpent makes a little noise as it opens and closes its maw

drooling, as usual, as it hangs around his hand

does it even understand him?

it does. just needed a moment to comprehend

it slithers up his torso and settles around his neck after doing a few loops

he used to be horrified because your serpents are, like, huge, and what if they decide to strangle him???

but he knows by now that they’re friendly and won’t hurt him

it tries to guide him to you by tugging on either the right or the left sides as he gets out of bed

he finds himself outside of your office… is this where you’ve been?

he lifts his hand to knock, but then he hears you; you seem to be on the phone?

“thank you. then i will leave it to you,” you say, in your typical detached business voice. you glance towards the door when kakavasha enters without knocking, your eyes softening almost immediately at his disheveled appearance of having just gotten out of bed. 

you wave him over; he doesn’t hesitate to settle in your lap and snuggle up against you. the serpent around his neck moves over around yours as well and finds itself a nice position there, essentially tying you two together. kakavasha watches as you spin the pen in your hand idly as you listen to whoever you’re talking to, and he admires you as you work – you’re so different when you’re serious! which makes how sweetly you treat him all the more special to him.

“of course, rest assured,” you answer, to whatever question the other party asked, “yes, a quick rundown report will do. is that all?”

it seems that is, indeed, all, as you end the call and practically slam the phone back onto its stand.

you wrap your arms around him and rubs your nose against his exposed collarbone

this man never uses the buttons on his pajamas properly

“honey?” you ask, using the pet name you have for him as both a tease an an endearment

“do i not have plans today?” he slurs a little, he’s still not quite up yet. “my alarm didn’t ring, and you didn’t wake me up…”

“no,” you answer quickly, lifting your head to peck him on his jaw, “you’re free today.”

you probably either took on a bunch of his work for yourself, or you’ve delegated to his team

he’s so happy when he hears that from you

he got a day off without having to use his vacation days? 

kakavasha can’t quite believe it. you, voluntarily clearing his schedule for him? “really?”

“really, mr aventurine.” you sigh, giving him a playfully harsh pinch on the nose. “kakavasha, i hear it’s your birthday today.”

the pout on his face when he hears you call him aventurine fades immediately upon hearing the next part of your sentence. he’s suddenly wide awake, because in no world had he expected anyone to celebrate his birthday for him again.

“what would you like to do?” you ask, signalling for your serpent to set him free from its coils.

he has no idea

he doesn’t celebrate his birthday anymore, unless someone gives him a cake 

and even then, it’s as simple as he can make it

the day is associated with far, far too many bad memories

so much for being blessed, he thinks, but now that he’s let you into his life…

maybe this day doesn’t have to be filled with only painful memories now

and it’s not like he’s particularly worried about losing you in terms of death

and you seem pretty content staying with him right now

he’s still thinking. he’s still thinking about the things he wants to do.

there’s so much, but none significant enough to be done with you on such a special day

he wants to do something unique with you

something more than just go on a date(?), share a cake and cuddle

you stare at him, and you sigh, “your morning routine, at least.” you nudge him off your lap as you carefully swipe your thumbs along his lashes. “you have eye boogers.”

kakavasha sputters and flushes. oh, you’ve just ruined his ethereal sleeping beauty image by pointing out he has eye boogers. he almost teleports into the bathroom after you’ve said that, and you run your hands along your serpent like you didn’t just almost give him a heart attack.

you have no plan either, if we’re being honest

all you can think of is to shift everything off his schedule so he can take a break

you did think about taking him on a day trip

but like… where? it’s not like you have a hometown to show him

but just going anywhere doesn’t quite feel right, either

you’ve also thought of giving him an audience with your primal form as a gift, but…

isn’t that nightmare fuel?

and also, you’ve never outright told him about your path, or much about yourself (though you’re pretty sure he’s made some guesses)…

so that’s a no

“what should we do?” you mumble, as your leviathan curls around your neck and stares at you with its maw

it does a biting motion with its maw and tilts its head

“brunch?” you raise a brow at its suggestion

how the hell did you get to brunch from that one little move

also, who would’ve thought that you knew how to cook? 

then again, if anyone’s been around as long as you have, they’d know a few handy skills

“woah… you can cook?” kakavasha walks out, looking fresh, as he sees you sliding plate after plate onto the countertop. “i thought you didn’t need to eat?”

“not a need, but i like flavors.” you reply, pointing him towards a chair with your spatula. “sit. i’m almost done.”

while you’re at it, you slide him a mug of mildly sweetened coffee mixed with milk tea

non-authentic xianzhou beverage because you only have access to whatever expensive coffee and teas your boss has stocked at home

you’re not cooking up anything fancy, really, just quick things

like… breakfast items level quick and simple

except you’ve never once cooked in front of him, so he thinks this is all really new

plus it’s you, you’re cooking for him, putting your heart into it, how could he not feel all tingly inside?

!!! do you even know !!! how much you make him swoon !!! with these subconscious things you do !!!

(you generally don’t, though you have the tiniest, tiniest idea in the far back of your mind)

when you finish up and sit down across him, his instinct is to try to feed you

you flinch backwards because what you saw was a fork coming straight at your face

and then you see it’s him trying to feed you, but now you’ve spooked him

he’s got the saddest pout you’ve ever seen on him

did you not like being fed?? :(

before he could pull his hand away, however, you gently take his wrist and let him feed you

you have no idea how much he loves how careful every touch of yours is

this is kakavasha’s first time having food made by someone dear to him since he became aventurine, and he could almost cry at the mere emotional implications of such a gesture, especially when it's from you.

“if you don’t mind…” kakavasha pokes at his plate with his fork as he slowly starts, “i… don’t want to go anywhere. just stay here with me?”

“of course,” comes your reply, “anything you want.”

he’s the birthday boy, come on, there’s no way you’re going to deny him his wishes?

you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone eat while crying and still somehow manage to scarf down so much

but you’re having your eyes opened right now

“it’s not going anywhere,” you say, knowing full well your words will fall on deaf ears, “slow down…”

well, whatever makes him happy, you suppose

you made all this mostly for him anyway

you pick up a few pieces of this and that and feed it to the leviathan waiting on your shoulder

and then you pick up a pancake for yourself

and when you turn back to the table, he’s cleared out every dish

granted, you made like five in total, so it’s really not a big feast…

but still, you didn’t think it was possible

you ask, “should i cook more often?” 

he hops off his chair and decides to squeeze next to you in yours

you naturally slip an arm around his waist and pull him into your lap

“will you?” he raises his question in a trembling whisper, like he’s just been offered the world

“i don’t mind.” you say, as you stack the dishes together and prepare to clean up

he buries his face in your neck. “the housekeeper can do it… i want to cuddle.”

you find yourselves on the rooftop. obviously, kakavasha is latching onto you this whole time, so you’re the one who lugged both him and you up the stairs. time passes by quickly, even if you spend it in comfortable silence; before you know it, the moon hangs high in the sky and the glittering stars are out.

“you really like it here.” you state, an observation based on how many times you’ve found him up here late at night.

“that i do,” he replies quietly, wanting nothing more than just to melt into you. “give me your hand?”

you raise a brow as you offer him your hand

he runs his fingers over yours, holding your hand with both of his, tracing every knuckle and every finger

“do you pray?” he asks, suddenly, breaking the trance you’ve fallen into as he touched your hand

you’re not a particularly religious person, but… 

“i’m not opposed to the idea,” you say

then it’s enough, he thinks, then he’ll entrust you with a ritual of his people

he’ll give you a very, very important piece of him

after all, he knows he’s in good hands now – you’ll take care of him, won’t you?

he moves your hand around, then, until your palms are flat against each other

you can tell right away what he’s trying to do, and your heart swells with a torrent of emotions

“may the mother goddess thrice close her eyes for you...” kakavasha begins, his voice shaky just as his person. he interrupts himself with a breathless whisper – “repeat after me.” 

he takes a deep breath, calming his mind as he comes to terms with how much he will be baring before you. it’s alright, isn’t it? you’ll treasure all that he is. “– keeping your blood eternally pulsing. may your journey be forever peaceful, and your schemes forever concealed.”

you repeat his words a little clumsily, and you press your hand a little tighter against his. it doesn’t take a genius to see that this is such a fragile moment, one where kakavasha’s past, present, and future intersects. where his pain and his solace meet, and where all that he holds dear are at the very forefront of his mind as he finds his way forward. he trembles in your embrace, tiny sobs ripping from his throat as he struggles to keep your palms together.

you briefly wonder if this would be blasphemous, you holding him tightly with your free hand. “shh,” you coo, “shh. take a break, even if just for today…”

it’s too cruel to demand him to keep fighting even on his birthday. you try to shield him from all that is around you with your scarf and your figure, just as you want to shield him from all that could hurt him in the world. the night winds are chilly, but between you and him, you are warm.

“happy birthday, kakavasha.”

[thetobaccotornado]

2010 bill x fem!

TW: smut, head (m recieving), pet names, face fucking, dacryphilia, [soft dom bill], praising, dirty talking

i sat on the couch in the living room, my eyes drooping as i fought to stay awake, waiting for bill to come home.

the front door suddenly swung open, before slamming again as i heard bill make his way towards the living room. even though i couldnt see him yet, i could tell something was off with him, by the way his footsteps were heavy, and the sound of his boots dragging on the ground.

he stopped at the doorway of the living room, dropping his bag to the floor next to him and bringing his hands up to his face, dragging them down his porcelain skin with a groan.

“you okay baby?” i said sitting up, making my way over to him, suddenly intrigued by his behaviour.

“mmhmm… things in the studio were just- todays been such a long day… i just need to relax..” he groaned.

i looked up at him, pulling his hands away from his face. “i know something that can help you relax…” i said with a lustful look.

a smirk made its way to his lips, the corners curling up slightly in a devilish smile. “oh really” he said, sliding his hands down my sides. “and what would that be?”

————————————————————————

i look in front of me, bill sitting on the edge of the bed, his erection slapping up against his stomach as he frees it from his boxers.

he looks doen at me and strokes my cheek delicately, looking into my eyes. “you gonna suck it baby?” bill asks with a devilish grin.

i maintain eye contact, stuffing the head of his cock in my mouth, which earned a low groan from him.

“yeah princess… just like that…” he groaned as he grabbed a fistful of my hair.

after a while, bill could tell i was slowing down, struggling to take his whole cock in my mouth. he begins using his handful of my hair, guiding my mouth up and down his cock at a brutal pace.

“sh-shhitt baby.. such a good girl f’me… letting me use your pretty little throat for this” he groaned, begging to buck his hips up into my mouth, the tip of his cock hitting a certain spot in the back of my throat, making me gag. bill groaned at the vibrations of my gag around his cock, as tears poured down my cheeks.

“just a- fuck- just a little longer my love… m’gonna cum… fuck- gonna let me come in this pretty mouth hm? he said pulling me up off his cock slightly, making a pop sound as my lips left the head of his cock.

i sucked in a deep breath, catching my breath as spit and drool trailed down my lips.

“answer me” he said, gripping tighter on my hair making me subconsciously let out a whimper.

“mm-mh yes… please!” i whined, squeezing my thighs together, trying but failing to stop the burning beginning to form between my legs.

“thats my girl…” he whispered, guiding my mouth down onto his cock once more, continuing his brutal attack on my throat.

his hips began to buck wildly, his cock hitting new deeper angles down my throat, his hand in my hair still slamming me down on his length, my nose touching his lower stomach every so often.

“fuck baby… gonna- m’gonna cum… fuck- fuck!”he cried out, as i felt him release his hot ropes of cum down my throat. he pulled out, watching intently as i swallowed his cum, the sweet taste lingering in my mouth as i looked up at him, opening my mouth to show him that i had swallowed, in fact swallowed it all.

“fuck y/n… such a good girl” he croaked, catching his breath. he brought me up to his level before kissing my lips with such passion. “did so well baby, so proud of you”

****************************************************an/: OMG YALL! FIRST FIC POSTED! WHAT YALL THINK?

[sailorblossoms-snowbaz]

In awtwb, we see Simon take his cues from Baz – he doesn't know how to be in a loving relationship (outside of friendship) and doesn't know how to express romantic love or sexual attraction.

We see Simon slowly learn from Baz, picking up what Baz puts down (making progress in bed when he switches his focus to "pleasing Baz") or identifying the things Baz does for or to him that he likes, and trying to do them for Baz. "I like the way Baz constantly checks on my well-being, you think that could be annoying, but it makes me so happy I wish I always had this..." after reading Baz being Simon's rock, the shoulder Simon leans on for a whole book... we see Simon doing the same thing for Baz in SFC. We see Simon start to use pet names for Baz after Baz has been using them with Simon since they got together, so we can infer that Simon likes when Baz calls him love and darling (and he would, since he insistence on being called Simon and not Snow comes from wanting to feel closer for Baz, since he was used to associating Snow with their distance)... but it doesn't end there. Or rather, it didn't start there...

On their very first meeting, Baz holds back while Simon can't resist the incredible pull he feels towards him. Much can be said about their meeting, about how much it says about the characters and the way they act about their feelings for the other, once they become aware of what those feelings actually are, but I don't want to get sidetracked here. Simon is someone who refuses to process (and so isn't used to analyzing himself or his feelings, or knowing what he wants outside of the very obvious – that being "I want a family, stability, to belong"), who needs something to guide his actions at all times... and so would be used to react to what he thinks other people are putting down. It's a survival instinct.

I think Simon has always been taking his cues from Baz.

When Simon first meets Baz, it's a moment characterized by an irresistible pull, an unbearable pain that can only be soothed by touching Baz. That's how loving Baz feels like for Simon. That's how attraction feels. It's painful to not be able to touch Baz (he will pick fights not just for his attention, but because is the only way he knows how to touch him... note how quickly Simon escalates in his touches in less than 24 hours once the truce begins). And Baz reaction to Simon in that first meeting? He's feeling the same things too, and yet, he restrains himself. While such control can awake certain admiration, his restraint in the face of such intense feelings can also feel like a rejection. Why else wait to hold Simon's hand? Maybe he just doesn't want to touch him at all, maybe he sees Simon as beneath him – which is something Simon could feel and internalize on a subconscious level, even before Baz starts acting in ways that Simon feels like it’s saying that more blatantly (which is part molded behavior and part of a wall – when Simon is like "Baz is the most arrogant person I know" I think Baz was very much exaggerating that shit around Simon, but that's another post)

This sets the tone for their future interactions. I'll never stop saying this because I'm not a bitch easily fooled by unreliable narrators with unprocessed homosexual thirst: Simon has always been following Baz around. It's just the intensity with which he follows him that varies. In one way or another, he always found him interesting and mysterious and enthralling... I also always say Simon is the obvious one between the two of them – he doesn't know, but his behavior betrays him (when Agatha and Penny both figure out in hindsight that Simon's behavior towards Baz has been gay behavior for years... it's them mostly looking back at Simon's behavior, they didn't know Baz like that back then). Baz is way better at hiding himself, and the defenses he employs are thorny. His walls have barbed wires at the top. When Baz looks unimpressed by Simon, but his behavior makes Simon think he's absolutely despised? Simon lashes out – Baz is a(n incredibly fit) creep only capable of making 2 or 3 expressions >:c (yeah, I picture Simon making that face, like he's pouting... because he is! Mr. "I know you're alive because I have been observing your soul" doesn't truly believe this shit). When Baz looks unimpressed by Simon, but his behavior makes Simon think Baz loves and wants him? A turn on, actually. Baz’s resting bitch face makes Simon want to climb him like a tree and suck his face. The difference is in what Simon is picking up from Baz (even if other things also come into play)... that has always been the case, I think. He's not free of impulses (he's full of them, actually) but a lot of his behavior centers on what he thinks (or assumes) (whenever he assumes we have problems) he's getting from Baz.

[kodared]

✰ Stanford & Borrower/Anomaly Reader ✰

fears not enough they have to tear him apart.

Chapter 4/?

Wordcount: 2,992 / 10,288

➤ Summary Based on the borrowers of many universes! I hope you enjoy it, and if you don't know about borrowers, let me be your guide into a world I've loved since I was young. ✰Written because I saw the severe lack of borrower content in Gravity Falls fanfic, i hope you enjoy <3 ✰ - ★Updates irregularly! I write when I want ★ ★ - Also on AO3! - ★

When the two humans left the room you quickly tried to think of a way out of this. Ford had been ignorant enough to leave the top off of the jar, whether so you could breathe or he just genuinely forgot you didn't care. 

You doubted he would care that much to leave the top off so you could get some air. He probably just forgot to put it on in the first place.

You knew the walls of the jar were much too slippery to gain any actual footing on them. When you did stand to test out your theory you realized much too quickly exactly why you weren't standing to begin with. 

Your injured ankle was quick to bring you back to reality as it squealed its discomfort. The pain splintering up your leg with fervent anger. 

When Ford had dropped you into the jar you had landed on your injured ankle. It seemed to now be coming back to bite you in the ass as you fell back to the bottom of the jar. 

You could use your hook, but you doubted it would even catch on the rim if you couldn't stand to toss it. You weren't at all keen on staying around them for longer than necessary, but maybe being around Fiddleford wouldn't be that bad. You could probably trick him to let you out. 

He hadn’t done anything to hurt you yet, but you haven't seen him behind closed doors. Your anxiety eating and worming its way back into your chest at the thought of being stuck with the two humans. 

Before you could harden your resolve and push yourself to get out of the jar despite the pain, the two scientists were back. 

The taller one, Ford, was the first to enter the room. An unnervingly friendly smile on his face. You could tell it wasn't genuine, at least not in the way you were used to. 

It was meant to put you at ease, but all it did was make you tense up and push against the glass wall a bit harder. 

The second human to enter was the exasperated assistant, Fiddleford. Despite your anxieties, he seemed the most normal of the two. 

Ford continued towards your jar, making your feelings of discomfort and fear kick up. Your hand subconsciously gripped the needle on your hip, if he was going to grab you he was going to pay the price. 

He took notice of this as he sat on a chair next to the table you currently sat prisoner on. 

“Is the needle a comforting item to you? I noticed you trying to grab it as well when I had you in my hand.”  

It felt… weird being referred to not as an ‘it’ anymore by the scientist. Sparing a cautious glance to Fiddleford you could see the man clicking the coffee machine on once again. The horrid machine whirred to life in the semi-quiet kitchen. 

“... That's none of- None of your business.” 

Of course, your voice had to crack in the middle of talking to the human. Your face would most definitely have a blush if it wasn't for the fact you were so dehydrated and angry. The embarrassment of a simple voice crack paled in comparison to the bitterness you held for this man. 

He seemed to find it humorous though as his smile widened just a smidge. He adjusted his glasses as well as he looked down at you. 

“I was told we got off on the wrong foot, my name is Stanford Pines. Anomaly researcher studying Gravity Falls.”

…Anomaly researcher? That wasn’t too far off from your guess of him being a scientist at least. It did little to put you at ease. 

“…I know.” 

You glared at the man and warily glanced at his hands. Watching as he folded them on top of each other as they rested on the table. He wasn’t making any moves to grab the jar, which was good. 

You still weren’t comfortable with him and he seemed to know it. 

Your glaring was interrupted by the sounds of Fiddleford pouring two cups of coffee before setting one down beside Ford's hand. Your gaze is now on the steam that billowed out of the cup. 

It wasn’t lost to you that compared to Ford's hand, Fiddleford only had five fingers on both. Looks like Ford was just special. 

Fiddleford pulled up a chair to the left of you but before he sat down he spoke.

”Would ya like somethin’ to drink? M’sure I can find somethin’ you could use as a cup,” 

He looked around the kitchen as if already searching for something he could use before you could even respond. 

“…Some water would be nice, thanks.” 

You spoke curtly but not without a tinge of gratefulness. Fiddleford truthfully was trying to accommodate your needs, which couldn’t be said about his friend. Whose eyes seemed to light up a bit. 

“How have you been getting water before? I’m assuming you need it regularly unless your body has accommodated to-“�� 

You were honestly about to tell the guy to shove it but he was cut off by Fiddleford before you could get the chance. The other man gave him a harsh glare.

If looks could kill Ford would be in the ground by now.

It felt nice to have someone in your corner for once and you turned your gaze to follow what Fiddleford was doing. Opting to ignore the other researcher in the room.

He was rummaging in what you could only assume to be a junk drawer before finding what he was searching for. His back turned to both you and Ford. 

“I think this’ll work just fine…” 

You debated trying to see what he had but you didn't want to stand. He now moved to the sink to wash whatever he had grabbed. 

”Yknow it’ll be hard for them to drink in that jar, Ford can ya let 'em’ out for me?”

Out? Fiddleford wanted to let you out. Oh, this couldn’t be any better. You could feel your body practically buzzing at the idea of getting out and leaving. 

It seemed it wasn’t lost on Ford you were excited to get out. The man gave Fiddleford a conflicted look. 

“I would rather them stay in there for now. Couldn’t you just hand it to them?”

Fiddleford finally turned around and you could see the man holding a small thimble. You had one in your house in the walls, but this one looked newer—no doubt one Ford bought to replace the one you took.

”If you don't let em’ out I will, I ain’t keepin’ our quest in a jar all night.” 

A guest was an interesting way to describe your situation. You wouldn’t exactly say you were a guest more like a prisoner. 

…You didn't say that to Fiddleford though. 

You watched as Ford sighed and screwed his eyes shut for a moment, before reaching out to the jar. Your body tensed as his hand grabbed the glass. The warmth already emitting from his skin before he had even fully grabbed it. 

He seemed to think for a moment about how to get you out. You were scared he was going to just reach in before Fiddleford piped up as he sat back down at the table. 

“M’sure you can just tip it to the side, that sound alright to you?” 

It still unnerved you to be regarded in a way that made you seem human.

It felt nice not to fool yourself, but you were much more used to Ford’s behavior until this point.

You realized you were quiet for too long when Fiddleford tilted his head a bit, making you finally respond. 

“Yeah-.. Sorry, that's fine.” 

Your voice was still terribly scratchy. Regardless you prepared for the jar to be turned on its side. 

After a few moments of hesitation from Ford, you felt your world shift. It took everything in your power to not go tumbling into the glass. Somehow you managed to stay halfway upright until it was fully turned. 

You crawled out hesitantly, keeping your eyes on both of them. Gods, you forgot just how big humans were. 

You could feel the vertigo hitting your brain and stomach as you looked up at Fiddleford. The man gives you a gentle smile before moving his hand towards you. 

Staggering backward you saw him hesitate. Focusing on his hand you saw him holding a small thimble of water. 

He didn't try to reach any closer to you. He just set the small thimble down and folded his hands back around his cup of coffee. 

You slowly walked to the thimble before taking it between your own two hands and sitting down. 

It took a considerable effort to lift it to your lips. You weren’t weak by any means, climbing and running every day tends to build some muscles. 

You were however running off of pure adrenaline and spite for the past few hours. So your body was about to collapse at any moment. 

The cold water hit your tongue and before you registered it you were gulping down the little that was in the thimble. 

The refreshing chill worked its way down your throat and soothed your throat like a mother to a child. 

Bliss. 

You were pulled back to reality as you finished what was in the thimble. Fiddleford was adding sugar to his coffee, his eyes not on you. 

…You felt a pair of eyes on you regardless. 

You didn't even have to look to know who it was, but you did anyway. 

Ford's eyes were focused on you, surprisingly not in awe or fascination. 

He honestly looked a bit remorseful, you didn't know why. 

You felt your arms shaking again and set the thimble down, the comforting weight of the metal leaving your fingertips. With nothing else to fidget with you picked your nails. 

Fiddleford was the one to break the silence with a cough, you turned away from Ford to look at him. 

“I can grab ya’ some more water, here,” 

He reached for the thimble and you steeled yourself to stay sitting. He hadn’t manhandled you at all yet, it was the least you could do to not be so skittish. 

…He didn't close the distance though, anxiety still buzzed under your skin as he stopped halfway. 

“Push it a bit closer i can grab ya some water,” 

Doing as you were told you pushed it a bit closer to his hand before pulling back. 

He was true to his word and grabbed the thimble before going back over to the sink. 

Weirdly enough it made you sheepish to be cared about this much by a human. Neither of them where reaching for you or anything, which was nice. Just not what you expected. 

Fiddleford came back to the table and set the thimble halfway to you again. 

The thimble was still cold as you took it, this time sipping on it instead of gulping it down like a dying man. 

Fiddleford took a sip of his coffee, and you decided to break the silence. 

“...I don't know how you can drink that stuff. Smells awful,” 

He practically choked on the drink as he laughed at your comment. You didn't know what was so funny about what you said but whatever. 

“Have you ever had coffee?” 

Of course, Mr.Researcher had to put his question in. You didn't forget he was there by any means but you were much more comfortable around Fiddleford. 

You chose to humor him anyway, not wanting to upset him. 

“Don't have to and wouldn't dream of it, smells all I need to know it's bitter and horrible.” 

Fiddleford wiped some coffee from his mouth as he reigned in his giggles. 

“It keeps us awake on long nights, m’surprised your not tired after all ya’ve been through today.” 

Honestly, now that he mentioned it you were exhausted now that the adrenaline had been sapped from your body. 

“...Do you want to try some?” 

You tilted your head at Ford as he pushed his cup closer to you. 

…You debated it honestly. Coffee, even though it smelt horrible and the machine that made it was loud and janky, was rare. 

Most borrowers would never have the chance to try food or beverages like this, it almost felt wrong to turn down the opportunity. 

You gave a small nod and drank the rest of the water in your thimble. Deciding you would use it to take a small bit. 

You were moving out of the cottage when you could so you might as well indulge in what you can. Maybe you could tell your family about it. 

Ford's eyes lit up a bit as he pushed it closer, seeming almost excited to gauge your reaction. 

You waited until he had his hands away from the cup before pushing off of the table and standing. 

Dipping your thimble into the dark liquid the smell was still pungent and strong as ever. It was pleasantly warm as you pulled the thimble out. 

Walking back to your spot on the table you took a small sip. 

…It was earthy and warm. In direct contrast to the water you drank earlier, it warmed your bones pleasantly. 

It wasnt bad to be honest, you didn't gulp it down like you did the water but you took a larger sip before setting it down. 

“Well?” 

Ford asked, curiosity and intrigue evident in his voice. 

“... It's alright.” 

You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of saying you enjoyed it. He didn't need to know that. 

Fiddleford smiled watching you and Ford interacting semi-normally. 

“I can dump it if ya’ want, get you some water,”

“No!- it's fine- Wouldnt want to be a bother,” 

You pulled the thimble closer to your chest, telling yourself you were only finishing it out of politeness. 

Ford knew you liked the coffee though and pushed his cup closer. Deciding if you wanted more you could have it, it was the least he could do honestly to build up a rapport after what he did. 

“Anyways. You know who we are now, can I know precisely how long you’ve lived in my house?” 

The questions you had been dreading finally started pouring from Ford. You started to wonder if he would ask any at all, to be honest.

You took another sip of the coffee to calm your nerves. 

“... I've been here the whole time, just- yknow, hidden. Like I'm supposed to be.” 

“Why-”

Fiddleford had a concerned look on his face as he cut Ford off. 

“How have ya’ survived this long on your own? Dont ya’ got any family?” 

You shrugged as Fiddleford now shot you a question of his own. 

“I mean I do, just not here. They’re in the woods, I got kicke-... moved, a few months ago.” 

Fiddleford had an expression of sympathy on his face, which you didn't like. 

You might’ve been small but you weren't some kicked puppy. You’ve survived all this time on your own you didn't need help. 

“Why did you have to stay hidden?” 

Ford finished his question while Fiddleford was too busy feeling sorry for you. You guessed it didn't help how disheveled you looked at this particular moment. That's what happens though when you're manhandled by a researcher for the better half of the night. 

“Borrowers run off of rules, it's how we’ve survived so long around humans. The biggest being if your seen, you move. Which, now that I've been seen, you don't have to worry about me anymore.” 

You finished the last of the coffee in your thimble before standing again, looking for your fishhook and thread. 

“Now hold on-” 

“This isn't the first time you’ve been seen though, why didn't you leave then?” 

You scowled and shot the man another glare, your nose wrinkling in anger. 

“Because someone took notes about me. If you publish them im screwed, and so is my entire species. I already tried to take it though, which got me caught.” 

Ford noticed you looking around and pulled something from his inner coat pocket. You immediately knew what it was by the way it glinted in the moonlight. 

Your hook. 

“Continuing off of that thought you had no right to take that!- I worked hard to make it!” 

You grew bolder as you walked over to him. Now standing by his coffee cup a few inches short of his hand that rested on the table. 

He held up his hand in a placating motion as you took out your needle. 

“Stanford!-” 

Fiddleford spoke irritated and shocked at him having something of yours. 

“I'll make you a deal, calm down first.” 

You stopped advancing for his hand, even though the idea of stabbing it sounded amazing right now. 

“I'll get rid of the page in my journal, if you stay and let me keep learning about you. I can give you all the food you need, you don't even need to hide in the walls.” 

You felt the anger leaving your body a bit at that. Leaving in its wake confusion. 

“... What's the catch?” 

“No catch.” 

He held your fishhook out to you. Holding it a few inches short of your body. 

“... I'm not a housepet. I don't need to be fed. As long as the page is gone'll stick around I guess.” 

Fiddleford spoke up again, shocked at the discussion he was hearing. 

“Fords gettin’ rid of the page regardless. You don't haveta make any deal. We would love havin’ ya around but nothins holding you here.” 

You kept eye contact with Ford as you looked at your fishhook. You heard what Fiddleford was saying, but the idea of cementing the page being gone fulfilled you more than an empty promise. 

You reached for the fishhook, feeling the cold metal under your fingertips. 

“Deal.” 

--

woof im going to bed oh my goodness..,,

TAGLIST: @i-am-tiredd / @kmsthisyr

[aestheticpearl]

— 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥

✧·˚ things with zaros have always been casual, right?

“i need to leave, i have a meeting with my mother.”

“stay.”

the word hangs in the air for a moment as zaros wraps his arms around your bare waist. you didn’t mean to be in this position with him, well you didn’t mean to be in multiple positions with him yet here you are, both of you naked under the covers of his bed after some passionate activities.

your fingers subconsciously play with the ends of his hair as he draws shapes on the small of your back, the action sends shivers up your spine.

“i have to go.” you reply but show no actual initiative to move from his arms.

“please my earis,” he says teasingly as he hides his face in your neck to place a whisper of a kiss. “stay with me. i do not wish to hate you again once you leave this room.”

“so it must be.” you kiss him gently and remove yourself from his arms to dress yourself as he watches your every move.

zaros stares for far too long as you button your clothing and secure everything in its proper place. he watches as your nimble fingers that once gripped his bed sheets mere moments ago now grip the fabric of your royal robes that hug your figure beautifully.

“i assume i will see you at dinner?” you ask, turning to look at him.

zaros refocuses on your eyes and suppresses a smile so you don’t notice how eager he is to see you again that the dinner between your two houses.

“yes of course.”

“good.” you reply as you tie the final knot on your robe and leave the room without another word.

zaros sat in his bed contemplating on how he got to this point in his life. fucking the earis but not being in a real relationship with them, everything was so confusing to him. he knew that you did not love him the way that he loved you, but a small part of him wished you did.

zaros leaves his bed and starts to get ready himself, putting on his shirt his eyes catch himself in the mirror and locks onto the marks you left on his lower neck. his fingertips graze over bruised skin gently as he examines them. you told him to never mark you for fear of someone seeing them but he never minded you making your claim on him.

something about these marking though triggers something in zaros and anger gets the best of him as he throws the vanity chair across the room. he breathes heavily before composing himself and fixing his hair in the mirror to join his mother for the upcoming dinner.

by the time dinner has rolled around zaros does his best to maintain his emotions that seemingly got the better of him after you left his room. your constant glances over at him are starting to get to him though and he does his best to focus on the food that is in front of him even if he can feel your eyes on him.

"i must excuse myself for a moment i believe i lost one of my broches in the hallway. zaros will you accompany me to look for it?"

zaros looks up at the mention of his name and stands to follow you into the empty hallway.

“did you actually lose your broche or is this just a ploy to get me alone?” zaros smirks, part of him can’t help but be a bit full of himself.

“i need you. let’s fuck.”

zaros is taken aback by the sudden confession. it’s not the crudeness of the statement more of the time and place for it and this was not the time nor place to fuck.

“you’re insane if you think i will fuck you while our parent are in the next room.”

“so that’s a no? i would’ve thought you were bolder than that zaros, i guess i was wrong about you.”

your words hit all the right places that you were intending to get zaros to do what you want. it’s easy to read his face since he is very expressive but somehow unaware of it.

your hand finds his arm and guides him to an empty room with a lock and against zaros’ better judgement he lets you take control of him once more for the second time that day.

“you’re such a good boy for me zaros.” you say as you kiss him deeply. a flush warms his face at the unexpected compliment from you. you rarely praise him like this, let alone kiss him with so much care, it confuses him.

“let us go before they grow more suspicious, hm?”

you’re both sweaty but he can’t help but think about how angelic you look with the glow of sweat shining on your body.

“you look beautiful…”

you lock eyes with him and nod before being the first to leave the room to return to the dinner. zaros is left alone with his thoughts for the second time that day and he hates it. he doesn’t know what to think or how to feel about you. he wants you but you don’t want him and it’s driving him mad. what could he be doing wrong? why are you so cold with him but so loving at times?

all zaros wants is answers that you are not willingly to easily give. unlike him who will always give his body, and soul if you’d only let him, to you.

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: He caught you getting off to the thought of him; it’s only fair that he gets to say when you cum. Pairing: Jongho x fem!reader Tropes: friends to lovers Genre: smut Rating: R 18+ Warnings: language Smut Warnings: masturbation (f), mentions of a strength kink/choking, hand kink, sex toy usage, praise kink, fingering, edging, crying, light begging Word Count: 1,167 Host Tags: @sanjoongie @thelargefrye Before You Interact February Filth Masterlist

Listen to ♡ Water by Ten

You’re beyond horny at this point. What brought it about, you had no idea. All you know is that you’re desperate for some relief. Thankfully, your best friend (and roommate) Jongho isn’t home right now, and you can get that release you desperately crave with the assistance of your toys. You don’t even bother closing your bedroom door before shimmying out of your shorts and underwear. Laying out on your bed, you start running your fingers through your already wet folds. That alone is enough to take just a bit of the edge off. You let out a sigh of pleasure, teasing yourself a bit before rubbing your clit in small circles. Whether intentionally or subconsciously, your mind starts wandering to your best friend. The way he’s so strong and could easily throw you around if he so chose. How subtle he is about how he takes care of people. The way he quietly takes care of you differently than he does for others; you let your mind run to places it shouldn’t, especially with your best friend as the star.

Soon enough, your fingers toying with your cunt simply isn’t enough. You reach into your bedside table and blindly dig around until your hand lands on your favorite bullet vibrator. Despite it being small, it definitely has the power to bring you multiple orgasms. Clicking it on to the lowest setting, you gently push it over your folds, avoiding your clit to drag your session out a bit. You quietly whimper and moan as you feel the vibrations run through your body. Even if it’s not even close to the highest setting yet, you love how it still burns arousal through you. 

You finally guide the vibrator over your clit, holding it there for a moment before rubbing it through your folds methodically. Now you allow yourself to feel that sensation over your clit as well. Now with the stimulation to your clit, your moans and whines grow a bit louder. There was no one around to hear it, might as well let yourself have a little less volume control. Clicking the little button puts the vibrations up to the next intensity. A broken moan escapes your lips as you continue to chase after your orgasm. 

Without much thought, Jongho’s name escapes your lips along with another moan. Now your mind has properly fixated on your best friend. His pretty hands wrapped around your wrists or throat while he fucks you, him showering you with both pretty and filthy words. Everything your mind could possibly create, you thought about with him. You continue to moan out his name as you play with yourself. You bite down on your lower lip and grip your bed sheets as your orgasm starts to bubble higher. It’s so close you can almost taste it.

“Off.”

You hear a voice that shatters your mental picture. Still, you hold the vibrator to your clit. When you look at your doorway, you see Jongho leaning against it with a challenging look.

“Take the vibrator off your pussy.” He tells you, “I won’t ask again.”

You listen, pulling the toy away from your body. You want to whine about being close, but you also want to see what Jongho is up to. Walking in fully, he takes a seat at the edge of your bed by your foot. He takes the toy from your hand and turns it off before holding it closer. Jongho’s eyes then look to your glistening folds. His eyes then travel up to your face to check for any sense of discomfort.

“Are you gonna let me help you?” He asks.

“J-jongho?”

“Will you? You were just moaning my name, after all. I should be at least a bit helpful.”

“You can help me.”

Jongho leans closer, one hand traveling up your leg before pressing his pretty fingers against your tender clit. You let out a small whimper and bit down on your lip again. The wet sounds coming from your pussy are only serving to make you more needy. Jongho still has the wet toy in his hand, holding it as if it’s unimportant.

“You’re awfully wet,” Jongho hums, “and all for me?”

“J-jongho, please.” You moan softly, rolling your hips against his fingers.

“You sound so pretty, moaning my name. Let me hear that again.”

“Jongho!” You gasp out a moan when he pushes his fingers into you, “Feels so good. Fuck!”

Jongho hums at your praise. His fingers continue to thrust into you. He finally turns the vibrator on again and presses it to your clit. You nearly scream out a moan at the sensation of his long fingers inside you combined with the vibrator on your clit, even if it’s on the lowest setting. Your hands scramble down to where the toy and his hand are, only to be captured in his free hand. He holds your wrists together against your belly. You start grinding against his hand and the toy. Jongho smirks seeing how easily you fall apart under his touch. When he clicks the toy up, not one, but two speeds, you moan so loud you think your neighbors might end up hearing you. 

“Did you want to cum, pretty girl?” Jongho asks cooly.

You nod quickly, “Jongho, please! Please! I’m so close!”

He pulls his fingers and the toy away from you in record time. Now you’ve been deprived of your orgasm twice. You whine and feel like crying, knowing you’re completely at his mercy to cum. Jongho smirks at you again and leans down to kiss just above your belly button. 

“Poor baby,” Jongho pouts, “You said I could help. Is this not what you had planned?”

“Jongho, please, I just wanna cum.”

“You cum when I let you cum.”

He pushes his fingers back into you. The squelching noise of your cunt is even louder now after being denied two orgasms. You immediately grind down against this hand. Jongho starts saying more filthy and sweet words to you as your orgasm quickly starts building again. This time, Jongho presses his thumb against your clit, rubbing it with the same intensity he fingers you with. When your orgasm is near again, he pulls away. Tears spring from your eyes, and you hide your face in your hands.

Jongho climbs further over you. The fabric of his pants brushes against your leg, alerting you that he is literally above you. He gently pries your hands away from your face and searches your eyes for pain or discomfort.

“Are you okay?”

You sniffle, a few more tears slipping down your face, “I just wanna cum so bad. I’m so desperate and–”

“Okay,” He smiles sweetly, caressing your cheek with his clean thumb, “Let’s make you cum on my cock then. You want to moan my name while trying to get off? You cum on my cock. Not my fingers, not my tongue, not a stupid fucking toy. You’re cumming on just my cock today.”

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2024© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

Networks: @cultofdionysusnet @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @bratty-tingz @yeosangiess @minjaeluver @abbietwilight @wooyoungmybelovedhusband

[phyx-m]

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 11: The Tragedy Of Want And Need

Content warning: smut, oral sex, fingering, angst, Sukuna POV at the beginning

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

The Wretched (Remix) - Nine Inch Nails Pleasant Smell -12 Rounds Want - Recoil

* * * * *

Chapter 10 | Chapter 12

* * * * *

Five years ago…

“Master, we will open the doors now.”

The King of Curses barely acknowledges his most loyal subordinate standing beside him, let alone their words. He is too preoccupied with his thoughts about today—a day he both despises and relishes.

With four arms supporting his formidable body, he sinks deeper into the throne, bracing himself for the monotony of the hours ahead.

The procession of miserable creatures about to crawl through the shrine’s doors, clutching their offerings, will be tiresome. All their pleading, the begging, the crying. All the shit, piss and vomit on the floor. Disgusting.

Yet, it’s the power that accompanies this spectacle that he truly savours.

Sukuna casts a wordless glance at Uraume, who nods in understanding. The doors slide open, and the wretched crowd spills inside.

It’s a wonder he has the restraint not to cut them all down instantly. He considers it, feeling the urge pulling within him. It would be so easy to mutilate every single one of them with a thoughtless wave of his hand.

Subconsciously, he rubs the pad of his thumb against his index and middle fingers on his upper right hand until he allows them to extend.

But then she steps into view.

No one accompanies her. She is alone and filthy.

An ill-fitting robe clings to her frail frame, and her long midnight black hair is slightly tangled. Still, with a bath and a good scrubbing, the bitch might look halfway decent. As she pushes through the crowd and reaches the base of the dais, she manages to stand her ground in his presence.

Interesting.

“My Lord.” She bows and exhales a slow, shuddering breath.

Sukuna taps one of the armrests, taking her in with vague interest.

“What do you have for me?” he inquires, his voice a low rumble. 

She raises her head, her eyes dark and murky, like thick, cloying mud.

“Myself.”

“Yourself,” Sukuna echoes, tilting up his chin.

“Yes,” she continues, her voice steady but soft. “I wish to serve you here, and if my Lord desires my body, he is free to have it.”

A flicker of mild revulsion crosses Sukuna’s face. The yawning need that cracked open inside of him two years ago is insatiable—a want that no amount of physical pleasure, whether from a woman’s cunt, his own hand, or the act of breaking someone’s body, can satisfy. But if he is to retain any semblance of control, he needs an outlet.

“Does the woman proposing to become my personal whore have a name?” he asks, leaning forward with a cruel smile cracking across his face.

She lifts her chin.

“Sayuri, my Lord,” she responds, then bows again in deference.

At least she has sense.

Sukuna glances at Uraume.

“Have her cleaned up and fed,” he commands, gesturing towards the dirt-stained woman. “Then send her to my chambers tonight.”

“Yes, Master.” Uraume moves toward the woman and guides her back through the crush and out of the central hall.

From just one look, Sukuna knows that Sayuri’s body would never truly satisfy him. She can try, but ultimately she will fail.

* * * * *

Present day, moments ago…

There are three things you know with absolute certainty.

First, you have a sister you love and would risk anything for. Second, in your father's eyes, you are nothing but a tool for his use. And third, Ryomen Sukuna is a monster—yet he just protected you.

The latter doesn’t sit well with you.

Even as you remain in the gloom of the central hall, with the heavy smell of copper in the air, Ren’s lips move in a blur. Yet, her words are lost to the daze you are trapped under.

He could have allowed that polearm to pierce and rip you apart. But he chose not to.

Why?

You watch as a horde of shrine attendants methodically remove every manner of broken body from off the floor—decapitated bodies, limbless bodies, bisected bodies, bodies with sunken craters. They carry them away, presumably to ready them for preservation and consumption.

He is a monster, yet he protected yo—

No.

It doesn’t sit well with you. A lot of things are starting to not sit well with you.

Turning to Sayuri, you see that she, too, seems lost. Her eyes, soft and unblinking, paint a blank expression. It’s clear why she’s so affected—she has just witnessed her lover being impaled before her eyes.

And you aren’t a fool. You know a rift has begun to crack between you and her. It began the moment you asked about Sukuna’s desires weeks ago.

As far as you’re concerned, she can have the King of Curses. You don’t want him anyway. That was never part of your plan. There has always been one plan.

"Are you all right, Sayuri?" you ask gently.

Her deep brown eyes meet yours. It takes some searching from her to you, but finally, she nods.

"Yes," she replies. "Thank you." Her voice is so small and fragile that it makes your stomach ache. 

What you will eventually do to Sukuna will destroy her.

“My Lady, why don’t you return to your chambers, change into something more comfortable, and rest? Sayuri and I will check on you later.” Ren suggests as she surveys your kimono with a heavy stare. During the attempted assassination, you were thoroughly sprayed in a deluge of Sukuna’s blood, and it’s still warm.

“Are you sure?” you ask, eyes drifting between the two.

They nod. Sayuri is a little more hesitant.

“Okay,” you say, “I’ll see you both shortly.”

You turn and leave, moving through the quiet corridors and back to your chambers.

As you walk, the weight of the past few hours presses down heavily. Despite the adrenaline pounding, rest is all you need right now. Yet, you know it won’t come easily unless you coax it out.

And it’s a damn shame you know exactly how.

Fantasizing about Sukuna from the other night—how he looked, touched, and spoke—while you pleasure yourself will work like a charm.

Cum for me.

His words.

Pressure throbs between your thighs, and it appalls you how easily thoughts of him get you wet.

Wrong, it’s so fucking wrong.

You walk faster. The door to your room comes into view, and you hurry toward it, wanting to slake your growing need. You slide it open with one gloved hand.

“My Lady.”

Your eyes close the moment Uraume’s cool voice slithers down the corridor.

You turn to face them. They stand at the end of the passage, hands clasped within the folds of their kimono, as still as a statue.

“Yes?” you ask, heart still racing.

“Master Sukuna requests your presence, now.”

Your jaw tightens in response until it’s almost painful.

“For what reason?”

“He wishes to share a meal with you.”

* * * * *

Standing at the door to the private room in your soiled kimono, your agitated hands fidget with your charcoal gloves, pinching and pulling the fabric.

You remind yourself not to be nervous. You have done this before. Meals are straightforward. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing has changed.

So why do you feel so nervous?

You don’t have time to dwell on the thought as Uraume gently slides the door open with a soft click.

Across the room, the King of Curses’ eyes find yours.

Red, red, red—

Breathe.

He glowers from a cushion at the far end of the low table, holding a kiseru between the large fingers of his upper right hand. Behind him, the garden door stands open, allowing the pale mid-afternoon light to spill in, casting his frame in silhouette.

Evidently, he hasn't changed either, still wearing the same blood-soaked kimono. The dark, muted blue fabric is stained with a purplish hue, and the tear where the polearm pierced him reveals a glimpse of his chest.

With obvious reluctance, you stare at it, remaining in the doorway.

“Excuse me, my Lady,” Uraume says, moving around you and inside.

They head to a separate low table, where you spot a tray of various dishes. Curiosity has you surveying them. Rice and vegetables for you, human flesh and organs for him, cooked and cut into small, bite-size pieces.

Unnerved, your eyes drift back to meet four red ones.

Slipping the kiseru into his mouth, Sukuna stares at you unblinking, waiting to see if and when you’ll move from the spot in the corridor, you have so stubbornly rooted yourself in.

He inhales.

Tiny wisps of smoke escape the pipe, and curl upward before disappearing into the damp air behind him.

You take a small step inside.

He exhales a soft, murky cloud, his enormous body relaxing.

Both feet cross the threshold, and a subtle twitch pulls at the left side of his mouth.

You slide the door shut, move toward the cushion set out for you and kneel, knees seeking the plush material. Even with Sukuna sitting across the table, it’s clear he looms over you.

Once settled, a silence descends on the room, broken only by Uraume’s preparations off to the side.

A heartbeat or two later, your husband finally speaks in that low, intimidating voice of his.

“Hungry?”

The word makes your stomach convulse. After Sukuna demanded your presence in the central hall this morning, you hadn’t had the chance to eat.

“Yes,” you murmur, “I’m famished.”

He leans back, giving you a condescending look.

“Famished? How fortunate for you. Uraume has prepared your usual bland meal.” He flicks his lower left hand dismissively toward the food tray.

You pull up a fake smile, only to let it drop immediately.

“Just because I’m not eating something dead doesn’t mean my meal is bland.”

It’s been the longest stretch without eating meat, and you miss it. Desperately. But you refuse to put anything resembling it into your mouth while at the shrine—just in case it’s human.

Sukuna rolls his eyes.

“Tch, idiot,” he grumbles while removing the kiseru from his mouth. He taps the pipe against a small lacquer receiver, depositing the fine ash into a neat pile before placing it on the table.

A breeze rolls through the open garden door as Uraume brings the food over. A mix of pleasant and acrid smells assaults your senses, making you blanch. Sukuna’s meal is placed first, then Uraume glides over to your end of the table, sliding down yours.

“Thank you,” you say.

Looking at the plate, you frown slightly. He’s right. Your food is bland, but you’ll never admit that.

You pick up your chopsticks and glance across the table. Sukuna mirrors your action, holding his own pair in his upper right hand.

The sight is strange. And despite his long, thick fingers, he handles the utensils with surprising delicacy, picking up a piece of tissue with care and dedication. His eyes narrow in strict concentration. It’s as if he’s a savant in the art of devouring human flesh.

Just how long has he been eating like this? Far too long, judging by the wicked look in his eye.

As the meat nears his lips, his gaze shifts to meet yours. He grumbles something wordless at your staring, and you quickly avert your eyes, refocusing on your own meal. You dip your chopsticks into the rice and slot it calmly into your mouth.

At first, the meal commences in heavy silence. There’s just the subtle clattering of ceramics and quiet, calm sounds from outside. But slowly, it’s interrupted by noises from Sukuna’s side of the table. 

Unsettling noises…

Crunching, squishing.

One, two. Two slices of sweet potato.

You resort to counting the vegetables piled on your plate to distract yourself.

Tearing, grinding.

Three medium carrots.

Sucking, slurping.

You shudder.

Five shiitake mushrooms, sliced into—

“Before we were wed,” Sukuna says suddenly between bites. You glance at him, and he continues, “Did you flaunt yourself like you did today, or am I just lucky?”

Apparently, he’s still annoyed that you wore your clan’s kimono.

“I was not flaunting,” you reply defensively. “And to answer your question, no, I did not.”

He slowly chews the meat rolling around inside his closed mouth, then swallows it.

“Then what trivial things occupied your time?”

You eye him skeptically.

“Pardon, my Lord?”

His gaze turns heavy and attentive as he stares down the table at you.

“Tell me what filled your days growing up in the Kasai household,” he says.

You stare at him, eyes darting between his dual visage, the black ink decorating his features, and the rigid line that makes up his mouth. There’s an expression there, one you haven’t seen before, one that confuses you.

Something slides into place.

What if I want to know you?

His earlier words claw their way back.

For some unknown reason, you hide your gaze from his, dropping it low to meet your gloved hands.

He can’t be serious. He can’t.

Discussing your time within the Kasai household is fraught with many dark things. Things that are filled with looming threats, abuse, submission, death.

Life was somewhat easier when your mother was alive, but everything began to unravel when she became pregnant with her third child. As your father eagerly anticipated the arrival of what he hoped would be a son—the next heir to the Kasai clan—the atmosphere grew oppressive. You and your sister were treated more like cattle than daughters—though, you bore the brunt of this dehumanization.

When you finally find the bravery, you lift your eyes again. Sukuna is waiting for an answer.

“My days were normal, quiet, filled with small comforts. Mostly, though, they revolved around duty and expectations.” You offer a flat response, carefully avoiding anything too complex or revealing. You have no intention of exposing your vulnerabilities like the other night.

He arches his eyebrow, and a lopsided smirk rolls up on his face.

It occurs to you that you’ve yet to see a genuine smile. One that isn’t mocking, sadistic or maniacal. You might even think him beautiful.

It’s a shame he’s the fucking devil.

“Are you telling me you weren’t an entitled princess?” he chuckles, loud enough that his mouth opens, flashing teeth.

You sigh, irritation seeping into your breath. He knows the truth and is just toying with you. The bruise your father left on your face the day of your wedding was a clear indication.

“I was not, my Lord,” you say, rolling your chopsticks between your fingers in an effort to distract yourself.

His smirk grows, four eyes narrowing into a sly glint.

“So, I presume you were the dutiful daughter always in the shadow of your more charming sister?”

Honestly, yes, but you didn’t care. Yuna was the more favoured one, the gem of the Kasai clan and for good reason.

“My sister is charming and deserving of the best life has to offer,” you state firmly.

Setting his chopsticks down, Sukuna leans away from the table, his smirk fading. He crosses his four arms over his chest and studies you intently as if troubled.

“And what about you?” He dips his chin in your direction. “The overlooked, perhaps neglected one? Is that your claim?”

His gaze makes you feel like a pitiful sight, stoking the irritation in your gut. You fidget with your chopsticks, his eyes dart, tracking the movement.

“Each of us has a role to play in the family, my Lord. I discovered what mine was a long time ago.”

Sister, protector, and tool—your needs and wants always come last. They always have and always will. Sukuna will never understand that. All he does is consume everything in his path.

A selfish, destructive, calamitous force.

“How sad,” he drawls, smacking his lips and leaning forward again, “it must have been terribly hard for you, growing up in such luxury, even if you had to wait your turn for leftover scraps.”

Your eyes narrow, and you take a deep breath as if the air could sustain the retort caught on your tongue.

“Perhaps, my Lord,” you say, deliberately placing your chopsticks down, “you’d understand if you ever experienced the denial of something you truly wanted, instead of simply taking everything without a second thought.”

Something dark crosses his eyes, like bitterness or something similar to torment. It's an emotion you’d never expect to see but quickly dies as if it was never there.

A heavy pressure fills the room—his energy, which has remained dormant until now, suddenly presses down, squeezing at your lungs. It hurts. Even with the garden door open, the air becomes thick and difficult to breathe.

Your hands curl into fists at your side, seeking reassurance as the tension mounts.

"Be more careful with what you say," he warns, "or I won’t tolerate that pretty mouth of yours for much longer."

You press your lips into a thin line.

Lovely voice. Pretty mouth.

“My Lord,” you breathe, feigning respect with the title, his eyes narrow, “you’ve been quite generous with your compliments today. First, my voice, and now my lips. I can’t wait to hear what else you find worthy of prai—”

A ceramic cup of water is suddenly placed beside your dish.

Sukuna’s energy withdraws, and you suck in a breath.

Uraume, whom you had completely forgotten was in the room, silently moved to your side. This is the second time they seem to intervene, just before you and Sukuna are on the verge of tearing each other apart. Or more so, him tearing you apart.

You inhale deeply through your nose and reach for the cup.

“Thank you,” you murmur, regaining your composure as you lift it to your mouth to take a sip—Uraume bows and steps away. 

From behind the rim, you glimpse Sukuna’s stern gaze, watching you intently before he returns to his meal.

Once again, silence blankets the room. Neither of you speaks. You focus on your food, and he on his.

His chewing isn’t as robust as before, allowing you to sit with your thoughts.

When you finally clean your plate, you set your chopsticks down. You have a question for the King of Curses, but uncertainty lingers if he’ll even answer the damn thing.

You watch him closely.

Sukuna, towering over the table, shifts slightly, his upper body tilting forward to balance his massive frame. He lifts his utensils, picking up the last morsel of pulpy flesh.

“What?” he grunts, not looking at you but clearly aware of your pointed stare. “Spit it out.”

You clear your throat and sit up a little straighter.

“All right,” you begin, your voice wavering shy of hesitation. “The man from earlier today… why did you allow him to live?”

Very carefully, Sukuna pulls his four eyes up.

“Which one?” He slips the meat into his mouth and places the chopsticks down with deliberate care as if the act of eating is a sacred ritual.

“The man with the heavy sacks.”

Sukuna chews lazily. His eyes are half-lidded as he looks at you with apparent boredom.

“There were plenty of men with plenty of heavy sacks.” His tone makes you sigh. It’s dismissive as if the details you’re offering are insignificant.

“The one with the barley,” you clarify, pressing your hands into your lap. “The horse breeder. He mentioned his family. Two children and another on the way.”

Sukuna swallows, his throat bobbing as he considers your words.

“You think that’s why I let him go?” he says, voice edged with a challenge as if he anticipates your next question.

Uraume approaches the table, tray in hand. They begin removing the empty dishes along with Sukuna’s kiseru.

“If not his family—” they take away your dish. “Thank you, Uraume,” you say quickly, striving to keep your composure. “If not his family, then why?”

Sukuna’s eyes harden. He leans back slightly, regarding you.

“If you think I spared him because of his pathetic plea about his family, you’re mistaken.”

“Then why? I don’t understand. Did you just let him go without any reason?” you press, patience wearing thin.

Why did you protect me?

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing.

“Does it matter?”

You hesitate.

“Well, I was curious because—“

“Then remain curious,” he snaps, ending the conversation.

Your mouth twitches.

Fucking hell.

You lower your gaze, biting back any further questions.

Everything falls back into an uncomfortable silence. There’s just the clattering of Uraume gathering the ceramics and the gentle breeze blowing through the garden doo—

“A family and children? Is that something you want from me?”

At Sukuna’s question, your eyes snap up, and you choke on nothing but air.

You stare at each other. His four red orbs are stern. This isn’t a casual inquiry. It’s a genuine question.

All this talk—about your life, your family, and now this—presses down on you.

You panic, palms itching beneath your gloves.

His eyes flare as if impatient.

“Well?” he grinds out.

You open your mouth.

Uraume reaches over to collect your cup, the sleeve of their kimono momentarily creating a welcome barrier between you and the monster. You focus on the white fabric, taking a moment to calm yourself before it pulls away.

Sukuna reappears.

He has changed his posture, now lounging with his upper right elbow propped on his knee and his fist pressed against the side of his face. The bastard seems relaxed as if this conversation doesn’t rattle him in the slightest.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” he drawls.

You swallow back the saliva that pools in your mouth.

“I-I haven’t considered it.”

How could you? The question itself felt absurd, given your circumstances. First, you had already accidentally caused the death of your pregnant mother; the thought of holding a life so small and innocent felt inconceivable. Second, the idea of building a family with the King of Curses was something you could never entertain. Lastly, from your perspective, this entire union is a sham, and you’ll be killing him—preferably soon.

“Perfect,” Sukuna says with far too much satisfaction. “Then there’s no need for you to waste your precious thoughts on such matters.”

That wouldn’t be a problem.

“Just to clarify,” you clear your throat, “you have no desire for a family?”

He scoffs sharply, his disdain clear as he wrinkles his broad nose and leers down at you.

“Do I look like someone who’d want a bunch of noisy brats tearing through here?”

You shift on the cushion, slowly dragging your gaze up the length of his body—past the hole in his bloodstained kimono, past his four powerful arms, until you meet his eyes.

“No, my Lord… you don’t.”

“Well, there’s your answer then,” he says harshly.

You let out a frustrated sigh.

Why the hell did he ask you to join him? The man is unbearable, his arrogance grating. You’re sure the only way to end this torment is to escape this interaction.

Your mouth opens, and the words “May I be dismissed, my Lord?” are poised on your tongue. But before you can speak, Uraume, ever the silent attendant, floats to the table and places a lacquered bowl in its center.

Both you and Sukuna drop your eyes to it.

It’s a bowl of fruit. Pears, grapes, figs. Then you see it—a single peach. It stands out, likely because the season is ending, making it a rare treat. It looks perfectly ripe, and its soft pink skin is reminiscent of Sukuna’s hair.

You drag your eyes up to him.

Oh, but the look he’s giving you. Suddenly, you don’t feel like leaving anymore.

His top lip twitches in warning.

“Don’t, you fucking dar—”

You’re already moving before he can finish. With a devious grin, you snatch the peach from the bowl and settle back on the cushion.

He huffs, crossing his upper arms across his chest.

“I thought you learned your lesson the last time you ate one of those.” His gaze is fixed on your hand as you deliberately begin to remove your right glove.

You arch an eyebrow, slowly peeling away the silk and letting it drop carelessly onto the table.

He tenses, eyes darting to Uraume for a moment.

It’s laughable—seeing the King of Curses lose his composure over how you eat a piece of fruit. The last time you pulled this stunt, he forced you to consume human flesh as punishment. But now, there’s nothing left for him to use against you. He’s already devoured it all.

"Hm," you shrug nonchalantly. “I suppose you’ll have to endure it this time, my Lord. ” Your voice is laced with defiance as you bring the fruit to your lips, locking eyes with him in a silent challenge.

Once again, you surprise yourself with your own boldness.

Your lips part, allowing the soft flesh of the peach to press in. You take a slow, sinking bite, closing your eyes as the sweet juice floods your mouth.

Pulling it away, you chew, swallow, then lick your lips. Sensually.

You throw in a soft groan for good measure.

“That tastes divin—”

“Uraume. Get out.”

Sukuna’s abrupt command has your eyes snapping open.

“Yes, Master,” they respond promptly.

“And close the door,” he adds, unable to look away from your mouth as he gestures toward the garden door with two fingers.

Uraume carries the tray of empty dishes and moves to slide the door shut, cutting off the only light in the room. The dim illumination casts Sukuna’s face in muted shadows, making his red eyes glow.

Your heart pounds, knowing the likelihood of what’s about to happen.

You wet your lips.

This time, you’re ready.

This time, you won’t lose yourself in him again. You won’t fall apart or make a fool of yourself. Today, you will end him. And this time, you're going to target his fucking head.

Uraume moves to the door behind you and slides it open. The clatter of ceramics is heard as they exit the room and enter the corridor.

You lay the peach on the table and then calmly remove your second silk glove.

The door begins to slide shut, rustling along the track.

You glance at Sukuna. His gaze is ravenous, never leaving you for a moment.

You swallow.

The door clicks shut, leaving the two of you alone.

You stand, but he’s already on his feet.

You move, but he’s faster.

Four hands grab you aggressively.

One moment, you’re standing. The next, Sukuna slams you down on the low table, back pressing into the wood, the fabric of your skirts and strands of your hair fan out in all directions. The lacquered bowl behind you topples over, clattering to the wooden floor, the fruit scattering everywhere. You draw in a sharp breath as his upper right hand, which had been cradling the back of your head to cushion the impact, slips away and moves to engulf your entire neck.

“That was rude, my dear,” he growls, hovering over you, his massive fingers squeezing your delicate throat, “I don't take kindly to being challenged, least of all, by my wife.”

You let out a small, stuttering breath.

He grins and tilts his head, admiring your docile form pinned beneath his effortless strength.

“However, I must say, there's a certain charm in watching your attempts at defiance,” he says. The smirk in his voice makes you seethe, but you remain calm. There’s no need to struggle. You’ll only exhaust yourself, and you need your strength.

“Thank you, my Lord. I'll keep that in mind for next time,” you deadpan, peeking up at him through your lashes.

Like the demon he is, that irritating grin spreads wider, making his four crimson eyes squint slightly, and his canines flash menacingly.

Smug, arrogant. You hate that look on him. Hate that it stirs something inside you that you wish you could ignore.

You shove it down and tuck it away.

He leans in, and the hand on your neck tightens, forcing you to tilt your chin upward.

“You know, you lied to me earlier,” he says, voice low. He places his lower left hand on your abdomen with deliberate pressure, letting his fingers graze your garment before sliding to the hem of your kimono. Slowly, he tugs at the fabric, pulling it taut against your body. “Claiming you were doing nothing in your room. But we both know that’s far from the truth.”

You try to shift, but the hard surface of the tabletop offers no relief.

“And what do you think I’ve been doing in my room?” you ask quietly.

As if the next words cause him pain, he clenches his jaw so severely that a vein bulges in his neck.

“You’ve been touching that pretty little cunt of yours,” he hisses, leaning closer, so you can see his pupils blown wide. “And I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Oh.

Just a few words send a pulse of want through you.

You’re in trouble.

"But more importantly, do you know how I can tell?" he whispers arrogantly, gathering more of your kimono, along with your undergarments, into his hand. He lifts the fabric to your thighs, your eyes tracking his every move.

“How?” you breathe, feeling the wetness pool between your folds.

“Because you’ve been acting differently since our incident five nights ago.” His tone turns cold, cutting the warmth you felt moments ago. “You’ve been emotional and irrational. It’s quite pathetic.”

His discerning words make your face scrunch up with anger.

Seeing your reaction, an even bigger smirk appears on his lips and he clicks his tongue, shakes his head, as if scolding a disobedient child.

“I bet it bothers you how exposed I’ve made you feel,” he chuckles, gripping your kimono tightly. “Especially since, despite everything, you still want me.”

With that, he roughly pushes all the fabric he’d been gathering up to your hips, exposing your slick cunt. Your breath catches in your throat at the sudden vulnerability.

For a fleeting moment, his eyes drop to take in your throbbing center before looking into your face.

With the same hand gripping your throat, he moves his thumb upward, sliding it across your jaw and gently brushing it along your bottom lip. He then hooks it inside your mouth, pressing firmly.

“Now, go on,” he demands, his orbs like four cold, red stones. “Admit it.”

As your eyes dart across his face, you feel your heart pounding. He stares intently, unwavering, grip tightening at your mouth as he waits for your response.

“Fine,” you mutter around his finger.

He releases his grip, removing his thumb from your mouth and placing it gently against the side of your face. He raises his eyebrow, his expression one of expectant satisfaction. 

You take a deep breath and avert your eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about you… while touching myself.”

He scoffs, the sound catching your gaze again.

“You missed something,” he states. 

You press your lips into a thin line. You understand exactly what he wants you to say but refuse to give in.

“Say it.”

“No.” You shake your head.

You’re not ready to admit, let alone confess, that you want him, not even to yourself. 

He pulls his hand away from your neck and stands up to his full, massive height.

“Fine,” he sneers, looking down at you half-naked on the table. “If you won’t tell me, then your body will.”

Immediately, his upper pair of hands reach down to grasp your ankles and yank them up so your bare legs extend straight into the air. A blush blooms across your cheeks as you feel a cool draft against your heated skin while he moves you.

Holding your ankles firmly, Sukuna uses his lower hands to slowly loosen the obi at his waist. He lets it slide off before unfastening his ruined kimono's interior ties. He carefully adjusts your ankles between his hands to peel the fabric away, letting it pool around his feet.

Now clad only in his dark grey hakama, his chest is marked with splotches of dried blood from the attempted assassination.

Seeing it, the same question resurfaces.

Why did you protect me?

You want to ask, but before you can, the maw on his torso opens with a deep rumble, its tongue slipping out. You watch it for a moment before Sukuna steps closer and, without warning, drops to his knees.

It startles you to see him like this, kneeling before you.

His upper hands grip your thighs, pulling you closer. Quickly, he hoists both your legs up, so your calves rest on his upper left shoulder, leaving your backside teetering precariously at the edge of the table. He bends down, leans forward, and presses the maw’s tongue against your glistening folds. You gasp at the sensation of the firm, wet muscle contacting your skin.

He holds it there, unmoving, his eyes locked on you.

Anticipation and vulnerability simmer in the narrow space between your bodies.

A heartbeat later, something dark touches his features.

“Fuck yourself on it,” he commands, voice deep. Cruel even. “Show me how much I’ve tainted you.”

Your breathing stops at the harsh demand. It fills you with repulsion. Yet, deep down, a sick desire has taken root.

Even if it’s wrong, you want this.

You hesitate for a moment, nerves getting the better of you. But, with a shaky breath, you lift your hips and push them forward. The tip of the large muscle brushes past your labia, pressing inside your cunt and massaging your inner walls. 

The pressure and pleasure are immediate.

A sound caught between a desperate gasp and a whine escapes your throat, and Sukuna wraps his upper left arm around your trembling thighs. The muscles of his forearm press firmly into your soft skin, grounding you with an unsettling feel of stability.

With your arms firmly gripping the table, you brace yourself and begin to move. Your initial motions are clumsy, but with Sukuna's shoulder as leverage, you sway your hips in a sensual rhythm. And it doesn't take long for the slickness between your thighs to increase, allowing the tongue to slide in and out of you effortlessly.

“Ahh,” you breathe as it fills and stretches you, it’s saliva falling directly onto your cunt.

You increase the pace, body moving with urgency, hips bouncing in tiny spurts. You pant and peer up into Sukuna’s face. He doesn’t return your gaze, just ignores you, keeping it lowered to the apex of your thighs instead.

Five nights ago, his eyes never left your expressions, unable to look away. Now, it's as if you no longer exist, barely acknowledging your presence.

That's fine. You don’t need this to be more than what it is.

Backwards then—

You slam your hips forward, hard, grinding them into him. The extra pressure has your brows knitting together, your mouth dropping open, and a guttural moan pouring out.

In response to your desperation, Sukuna tenses. He’s struggling to control his emotions. And despite all his efforts, his mouth twists into a snarl, exposing his teeth.

"Good girl, just like that," he hisses, his voice strained as he fights to suppress a groan that escapes as a ragged grunt.

He continues to do nothing but hold your legs against his body, his grip firm, tight. His orbs roam over your writhing form. His lower eyes follow the rhythm of your bouncing hips, the way your needy cunt fucks the maw’s tongue over and over, creating sounds that become thicker, wetter. His upper eyes still avoid looking into your face, but gradually, they lift, locking onto your pleading gaze.

A moment of unbreakable eye contact passes between you, and soon, all four of his red eyes are heavy-lidded. Yet, he remains emotionless, even as his body betrays him.

It suddenly becomes clear that the King of Curses is warring with himself. His duality is a struggle, like two opposing storms.

And perhaps, it’s something you can exploit.

You grind your hips harder, pressing the muscle deeper just to feel it swirl inside you. Sukuna’s upper right hand moves from his side, sliding it down along your left leg. The pads of his fingers dig into your heated skin before he slides it back up. The brief touch has you pulling your hips back, withdrawing the muscle before roughly pushing it back into your squelching heat.

“Fuck!” A cry rips from your throat.

“Yes,” he rasps, teeth flashing as a deep growl rumbles in his chest at hearing your sweet cries.

You shut your eyes, throw back your head and allow it to rest against the table. Hip’s undulating faster. Throat tossing out short pleas and curses.

Your frenzied actions cause the mixed wetness to trail down the soft curve of your ass, collecting in slow, deliberate drips that splatter onto the table.

Hearing it, Sukuna’s grip tightens painfully. He’s still trying to hold back.

Peeking your eyes open, you see that dangerous crease split between his mask and eyebrow, spilling into a mixture of desire and anger. 

Finally, the King of Curses moves.

Chest rising and falling, he brings his upper body forward, matching your thrusts, pushing the tongue inside your soaking pussy until it stings with pleasure. 

As your skin presses against his, you feel the warmth between you intensify, causing sweat to form where your bodies touch. The dried, rust-coloured blood on his chest deepens in hue as the heat builds.

The edge of your mind goes blank, and words you wish had stayed unspoken start to tumble out.

“More,” you quietly moan.

His lip twitches as he pushes forward aggressively.

“You want more?” he growls.

No.

“Yes.” You nod

I do.

Some invisible restraint snaps inside him.

“Then I’ll give you fucking more,” he hisses, withdrawing the maw’s tongue from you, the loss of it making you inhale sharply.

As he rises to full height, you quickly sit up on your elbows in confusion. And there, at that angle, you see them, the rigid outline of his cocks. It’s massive.

He fixates on your wet folds as his lower hands move to the ties of his hakama, tugging on the knot and loosening them.

Your heart races. You aren't prepared for this.

Catching the garment at the top, he begins to drag it down, revealing a dusting of dark hair that starts at his lower abdomen and trails downward.

You sit up fully, panicking.

“Wait!”

He stops.

“What?” he snaps.

“I’m… I’m not ready.”

“Oh, you’re not ready,” he mocks, clicking his tongue.

You nod slowly.

He stares at you for several heartbeats, his hands still resting on his hakama.

Kill him.

Your voice in your head. A reminder.

“I-I want your head between my thighs.” Your tone is only slightly steady.

Keeping your eyes on him, you begin to lean back. Sukuna watches, his gaze hunting you as you lower yourself onto the table again.

“Please,” you whisper, spreading open your thighs. His nostrils flare as you snake your hand down to your cunt to spread your wet folds for him. “I want your tongue on me. I need you to taste me.”

Pretending or not. You desire this, which is a dangerous thing.

“I want more than a fucking taste,” he growls, retying his hakama with a frustrated tug.

Lowering himself back to his knees, the thick fingers of his lower hands slide under your ass, while his upper hands hook behind your knees. Your breath is brought to a halt when he forces your legs up, pinning your thighs flush with your abdomen, exposing you. He curves over your body, the muscles on his shoulders and abdomen rippling like a predator. Your core aches at the sight before you as he lowers his face down to your thighs, his warm breath rolling across your skin.

So close. You tremble.

Sukuna looks up. There's that dark hunger again.

“I will get that confession out of you. One way or another,” he vows, inhaling deeply the scent of your arousal. A deep purr rumbles from his chest as he licks his lips, his tattooed tongue darting out teasingly.

Leaning down, he brushes the flat of the muscle along your swollen pussy lips with a back-and-forth motion. The sensation is maddening as he teases your core, denying what you want. Your mind turns dizzy as you watch him continuing this torment. 

His tongue glides up and down, repeating the action once, twice, and then a third time.

Your impatience grows unbearable. You want to fall back, to surrender to the desire, to feel him devour you with the same intensity as when he first laid eyes on you at the wedding ceremony.

“Please,” you breathe out.

Sukuna's eyes dart upward to stare at your mouth, drinking in your desperate plea with amusement. He leans in for a fourth lick, tracing a clear path up the center of your pulsating heat before pulling away, relishing in the torture he is inflicting upon you.

You shift on your back, releasing a frustrated exhale, and he hears you.

With a firm clasp on the back of your thighs, he forces your hips to rise, exposing your wetness to him. And then, that’s when he plunges his tongue between your folds, pushing past your soaking entrance.

Your back arches, his hands pull you closer to his hungry mouth, and both of you groan together.

Loudly. Unhinged. Strangled almost.

It’s better than the feel of his stomach maw. It’s better than anything you’ve felt.

Immediately, he seals his mouth against your cunt. The muscles in his jaw flex with each lick, and suck, trying to swallow you whole. Every swipe of his tongue is more frantic than the last, and you meet him stroke for stroke, undulating as best you can under touch.

"Yes!" you squeal, hands flying up to clutch your knees.

You're going to hell for this.

On a low growl, Sukuna's four hands grip you tightly, anchoring you close while pressing you firmly against the table. The small room fills with slick, sloppy noises, and your panting, harsh and unrestrained, spills out, filling the space.

As if entranced, his brow knits together, and his eyes fall shut just to focus on you. He’s so lost in the moment that he blinds himself to what's coming next.

Focus.

Inhale.

Panting and keeping your eyes on his face, you slowly slide your right hand from your knee.

Hesitant at first, you gently dip your fingers into his pink hair. The strands are soft under your touch. You can feel the texture and the movement as they tickle and dance against your fingers.

You take a moment to admire the sight. To admire him. The way his head rises and falls against your trembling thighs, how he takes starving mouthfuls of you, how you’ve never seen him like this. Almost reverent. Worshiping something other than himself. It's a shame, but at least he will die indulging in two things he enjoys: eating and sex.

Exhale.

You lay your right hand flat against the top of his massive head, your hand looking tiny in comparison. You hold it there for a moment before bringing your left hand to join it.

Though unsure why, your left hand moves, your thumb tracing gentle patterns along his hairline. It’s as if you’re trying to soothe him. Offering a silent apology for what you’re about to do.

Perhaps, one day, when you die and end up in hell, you’ll find him there. Maybe then, things could be different.

As you continue these soft, lingering strokes, you let your hand gently fall to rest against the jutting surface of his mask.

Sukuna’s upper eyes snap open, shooting to your face, his mouth coming to an abrupt stop against your skin.

Shit.

It seems your gentle touch was not appreciated.

You quickly retract your left hand from the right side of his face, weaving it back into his hair.

“Keep going,” you urge softly, dipping your chin downward.

He doesn’t. Instead, he gives you a threatening glare that makes you nervous.

Not knowing what else to do, you lift your hips and grind them against his mouth, letting your slick folds drag across his lips, leaving a glistening path in its wake.

He groans in pleasure and licks his mouth, tasting it before shutting his eyes and diving back into your pussy, drowning himself again. You let out a gasp as his tongue flattens against your skin, followed by the graze of his teeth along your slit. His lower hands begin to roam, fingers exploring your curves. As the right hand ventures towards your crease, you feel a warm wetness as the mouth on his palm opens and begins to lick and probe at your tight entrance.

"Sukuna!" you protest with a sharp intake, hips jerking upwards.

A deep, sadistic laugh reverberates against you.

“Shy?” he mocks before taunting you with another lick at your asshole.

Your brow furrows, lips pinched tight.

“Do not do that agai—ah!”

The tip of his tongue finds its way to your clit, which has you breathing raggedly. Moving his lower right hand away from your ass, he pushes it roughly against your cunt. Caressing you for a moment before sliding a finger deep inside.

“Oh, god,” you whine, slamming your hips forward for more pressure, his tongue working your swollen nub and his finger fucking sloppily in and out of you.

Your heart tumbles at how good it feels, even when you know it should be wrong.

Focus.

Hands bunching in his hair for purchase, you concentrate.

Sukuna twists his finger deeper, making you clench, making you arch cleanly off the table.

Focus…

“Please,” you moan, knotting and tugging at his hair.

His tongue curls and presses around your sensitive nub.

“Please, what?” he mumbles.

Damnit, focus.

“More,” you beg, “I want more.” 

He chuckles.

“Admit that you want me, princess, and I’ll give you everything.” He grins into your cunt, the damp heat of his breath coasting over your flesh.

You say nothing.

Fire goes straight to your belly as he swipes his tongue meanly across your clit. You cry out, pushing forward against his mouth, eyes rolling back, mind emptying.

“Sukuna… I…” you breathe, faltering for any words.

Focus!

“Say it,” he urges, licking and sucking your sex, then adding a second torturous finger to pump inside you.

“I-I want…”

Kill him!

Your eyes refocus.

You take one last look at his face, carving every detail into you.

You have to do this.

Sifting inside yourself, you reach for your gift. Hands trembling, you wrangle it and press your fingertips to his skull.

At the touch, his eyes find yours.

Do it!

Then, finally, you—

“Admit it!” he growls.

You hesitate.

“If my Lady isn’t in her chambers, perhaps she’s eating in here?”

“Goddammit! I want yo—” 

The door to the corridor slides open.

Your confession dies.

Sukuna��s eyes snap up. Your head whips back.

From your upside-down view, Sayuri and Ren stand in the doorway.

No.

“Get. The fuck. Out,” Sukuna says loudly, mouth pressed to your core.

Neither attendant moves. Both stand frozen.

You meet Sayuri’s darkening brown eyes—the pain and anger you see there claims your arousal. You feel sick.

“Leave!” Sukuna snarls, “Before I kill both of you.”

Ren hastily slides the door shut.

You blink, then tilt your head back. Sukuna resumes his feasting.

“Stop.” Your voice holds a pathetic warning.

He doesn’t. He’s too enthralled. Too busy with his tongue, placing messy licks on your pussy, while his fingers slide inside you.

“Sukuna. Please,” you shudder, rising to your elbows.

He doesn’t acknowledge you.

“Stop!” You press your palms into his forehead, attempting to push him away. “Get off me!”

Reluctantly, he withdraws all four hands from you and steps back with a huff, wiping the juices from his face with the back of his hand. He then rises to his full height.

The blood slowly returns to your limbs.

You plant your feet on the floor, stand with a slight sway, adjust your kimono, grab your silk gloves, and move around the table, quickly heading for the door.

A large hand clamps around your wrist, halting your escape.

"Don’t you dare walk away from me.” Sukuna’s voice is as tight as his grip.

There's conflict in his tone, an emotion. An emotion that makes your insides dip.

"I'm going to my chambers." You try to wrench free, refusing to look at him.

He reels you closer, grip tightening as he leans in. His face before yours, his red orbs burning so close. And yet, so far away.

"I didn’t give you permission to leave," he spits.

"That doesn’t concern me.”

His gaze thins and his voice drops, turning cold.

"Just because I managed to drag an orgasm from your cunt once doesn't mean you have me wrapped around your finger," he snarls. You recoil. "Remember your place, wife. Because I own you."

Those last words hit like a force. Splitting your head open. As if your own cruel father had spoken them.

A poisonous rage has your mouth trembling.

Leave. You need to go.

Your thoughts spiral as you continue to struggle in his hold. When he refuses to relent, you resort to the one thing that might make him release you. Exploit the one thing that you’ve unearthed.

You lift your chin.

"You protected me today. Why?" you demand.

Sukuna’s grip burns, but he remains silent. Your hands curl into fists and his features distort, falling into anger.

"Answer me! Why? Why, did you protec—"

"Get out!” he yells, releasing you with a harsh shove.

You stumble back.

The scoff that falls from your lips has him stepping forward. You step back. You've pushed the monster too far.

With a blank expression, you bow your head, rise, take one last look at his face, recarving every bitter detail into you, and turn away.

* * * * *

For the second time in weeks, the shrine’s ceiling becomes the only view from where you lie on your futon. Looking at it for so long is starting to give you a headache.

You shift onto your side.

But perhaps the headache is from something else.

You squeeze your eyes shut to fight the throbbing.

Today didn’t unfold the way you imagined it would. You fucked things up—badly.

Hours ago, with Sukuna between your thighs and your hands on his head, for reasons you can’t understand, you couldn’t bring yourself to kill him. You hesitated.

In that moment, he was your weakness. And in that moment after, you might have become his by the way things were left.

You drag your fingers across your eyelids. The fatigue that sits there is heavy. Heavier than usual.

The rift that has opened up between you and him needs to be mended. The sooner, the better, before more time slips away.

Sighing, you roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling again.

You need to get closer to him, even if it’s becoming difficult. Not because you want to, of course, but because you need to.

Sitting up, you carefully run your hands over the fabric of your yukata to smooth it into place. You push off the futon, approach the door, and slide it open.

The corridor is silent. It's become a friend you know all too well now. 

You take one step out.

A cream-coloured robe shudders to your right, flowing in the darkness.

You stiffen in the doorway, catching yourself before moving any further.

It takes a moment, but you make out the faint outline of a woman, their back to you.

Sayuri?

She’s barefoot, feet tapping delicately against the cool wooden floor.

Her long, raven-coloured hair cascades down her back like a fine river of ink, luminous against the pale garment.

Each step she takes is silent, moving with the grace of someone who’s done this walk a thousand times before. And you already know exactly where she’s going—there’s only one other door at the end of this corridor.

She takes her time—one foot in front of the other, like a smooth, practiced dance.

When she reaches the King of Curses’ chamber, she doesn’t hesitate. Her lithe hand extends and knocks three times against the massive wooden door.

Though the sound is soft, it reverberates deep inside you. And… it hurts.

One heartbeat passes.

Then two.

Sayuri waits.

A third.

She waits.

Then, a fourth.

On the fifth, the door slides open, and a pulse vibrates the air as Sukuna appears at the threshold.

You pull yourself further out of view.

Though you’re far away, you can see him cross his four arms, studying his subordinate before him.

She lifts her chin.

He doesn’t move, but Sayuri does.

She walks inside his chamber, turns, and shuts the door behind them.

Without needing to take a second glance, you slide your door shut and disappear into the darkness of your room.

* * * * *

🔗 Chapter 12

[local-ground-apple]

Not-Vil's insolent castle | Howl's Moving Castle au!

Vil as Sophie and You as Howl I just want to say "That's my boy" @ Vil

,,There you are, sweetheart !”

Vil heard a soft but firm voice in the crowd. Usually when he was surrounded by people, he was unable to focus on a particular sound or pick out any face.

He would never remember them later.

Carefully prepared expressions and words thankful for the support of his fans were leaving his mouth almost automatically. If someone was a tad bit observant, they would notice sheer distress and slight panic in his eyes, as he didn’t wish to be almost suffocated by the crowd.

,,I was looking everywhere for you !”

Finally. This time, he finally noticed you in the sea of his fans. You wore a crystally white shirt with few buttons unbuttoned, yet Vil focused on your pink-silver jacket that seemed to shimmer slightly in the sunlight.

You were glowing.

A playful, yet quite attractive smile was dancing on your lips and your eyes seemed to sparkle.

Vil blinked and in that moment you merged with the crowd, disappearing from his sight. Before he could turn his head around or hopelessly attempt to escape from the crowd, he felt a cold hand on his shoulder, warm breath slightly tickled his skin and silky hair brushed gently against it.

,,I’m sorry, I’m late”

You muttered slightly, the beautiful smile not leaving your lips. Vil was left quite breathless. No one from his fans dared to even touch him, given his security guards who guarded him diligently. Yet, you slipped past them with ease. He could hear them from afar complaining and rushing to separate you two, yet you were faster. Your firm arms wrapped around Vil’s waist and before he could even scream or complain, you jumped in the air, lifting both of you.

,,You! Put me down immediately!”

Vil yelled at you, as he floated above the confused faces of passer-by and his fans who were shouting in disbelief. You only giggled at his misery, as you began walking in the air with ease. Your hands were gently holding his, making sure he didn’t fall.

,,Now, you can start walking! It’s quite easy and quite effective to escape from your fans”

You responded cheerfully, as you guided him. Vil was quite hesitant to listen to you, yet he soon figured out that there was no way to properly argue with you. You didn’t seem like the type who would listen; besides he didn’t wish to be dropped from this height.

He began slightly walking, taking small and hesitant steps. Yet, seeing your encouraging smile and noticing that fact that he wasn't falling down, he began to feel slightly more at ease. Perhaps, it wasn’t such a bad way to escape the suffocating crowd of his fans and his relentless manager.

,,See? It’s quite enjoyable”

You said cheerfully with a bright smile gracing your lips, as you stepped on the highest point on the cathedral located in the middle of the city. You two continued walking in the air. No one seemed to notice you two, as you made sure you were high enough not to be spotted easily. Soft, morning breeze was gently brushing against Vil’s face, as warm rays of the sun gently caressed his face.

Vil had no idea who you were. A mysterious figure that seemed to lighten up his day by stealing him away from relentless and suffocating fans. Offering him a magical moment in his dull, overworked reality devoured of any colours. Every time he opened his mouth to ask you about your name, no sound could come out of his throat.

Yet, every beautiful moment had to end eventually.

You carefully placed Vil on someone else’s balcony, gently letting go of his hand. His fingertips lingered for a brief moment, almost as if he subconsciously didn’t want to let you leave. You smiled brightly at his confused, yet happy face.

,,Now, you can get away from your fans. I’ll make sure they don’t follow you or anything”

You assured Vil who was, once again, to stunned to speak. He only nodded in response, feeling quite ashamed for appearing so shy in front of you. After all, he was known for his impeccable appearance and dashing personality. Yet, in front of your literally glowing form, he was left speechless, feeling like a grey mouse compared to you.

,,That’s my boy!”

You exclaimed, flashing him one last brief smile, before you jumped of the balcony.

Next day, Vil woke up old.

He wasn’t only feeling old, as if he aged 50 years mentally in the span of one night filled with magical dreams of you. No, he was old.

Vil had troubles getting out of the bed, his muscles felt sore and his joints were cracking slightly whenever he moved a bit. When he glanced at his form, he was stunned. His legs were thinner and the skin wasn’t as supple as it used to be. Frankly, Vil was scared to look at himself in the mirror. His hands trembled, as he had to hobble carefully to it. He furrowed his eyebrows, noticing that he needed to support his weakened body to even take few steps. His back was slightly in pain and he noted that he probably won’t be able to straighten it soon.

Full of apprehension, Vil finally looked at his reflexion, feeling his eyes watering.

Vil was old.

His hair that used to be blond, now was grey adorning his tired visage. His face was dry and covered in wrinkles. His cheeks were now hollow and devoid of any youth. If it wasn’t for his sore throat, Vil was almost sure he would scream in pure despair. He repeatedly closed and opened his glassy eyes and pinched himself multiple times. Perhaps he was delusional, hoping it was just a nightmare and that he would soon wake up from it.

Yet, no matter how viciously he picked his skin, his reflexion covered in wrinkles stared back at him.

Everything crashed.

Every single hope he had for his future; his beautiful dream he had worked so diligently to achieve it was now shattered. It was over for him. With his shortened life-span, Vil was positively sure he was done for. He could achieve nothing and his career was brutally shattered.

Yet, he wasn’t the one to give up. His whole life he was known for his relentless efforts and his persistent attitude. So, he grabbed some stick that he found on his way and he did his best to try to find a cure for his sudden enchantment.

Vil hobbled from one professor to another mage begging for help. He drank various potions, took part in many rituals, tried every possible spell, yet nothing seemed to work. Crowley couldn’t help him. Neither could Crewel or Malleus, despite their earnest efforts. They couldn’t pinpoint the source of this peculiar curse that made Vil so old in the span of one night. Hell, he couldn’t even speak about this potential curse.

So Vil Schoenheit had only one possible solution to his problem.

He could only dwell in despair, slowly coming to terms with his current appearance and shattered career that was so dear to him.

Until, one day Crowley announced that he knew one person that could offer some help.

Despite the doubtful and vicious voice whispering inside him, Vil could feel a wave of hope washing over him.

Vil had to walk, which posed quite a serious problem to his weakened and old body. Every step felt like a challenge and the longer he walked, the more exhausted he felt. Despite a solid, wooden cane Crowley had gifted him before he embarked on this journey, he still struggled and the walk took him longer than he anticipated.

He had heard about Pendragon before.

A mysterious wizard who had a nasty habit of appearing randomly with their unique Moving Castle and then disappearing. A wizard who feasted on poor ladies’ hearts. A wizard who first broke them and then ate them. A heartless mage who had a personal beef with the Witch of the Waste.

Vil scowled at the mere thought of wizard Pendragon. From the various rumours he had heard, Pendragon didn’t seem like a good person who would manage to help him. He was quite sceptical, yet Crowley had assured him multiple times that if someone could do something, it would be that eccentric wizard. He only had to reach his Moving Castle and successfully get inside.

Vil had noticed it from afar. It was a unique construction, one that you couldn’t mistake with any other building. It was moving at moderate speed, so Vil hoped he would be able to swiftly reach it or at least, keep up with its pace.

Oh, how wrong was he.

Vil had an impression that the castle seemed to mock him. Not moving rapidly, yet not slowing down specially for him. He furrowed his eyebrows, scowling in annoyance. He was way too old to be running after this damn building that seemed to be moving on its own free will.

He panted heavily, feeling as if he was close to passing out. His heartbeat was so fast, Vil was afraid his heart would combust. He had troubles catching his erratic breath, as he attempted to chase after the Moving Castle. He supported himself on the cane, gripping it tightly. He was cursing the castle internally, as he hobbled after it.

,,Stop! Just stop! You..You..y’you…Please, I beg you….just…stop”

Few words left his mouth, as he was desperately trying to catch his breath. Vil was shouting in desperation mixed with exhaustion. He pushed himself and his weakened body to try. He had to at least try to reach Pendragon’s residence to plead for his help. He couldn’t give up so easily, yet he wasn’t able to grip the door handle.

,,Just stop you insolent castle! I need help!”

Vil exclaimed in frustration, feeling anger washing over his poor, unfortunate form. Tears welled in his eyes, as he once again stretched his arm to reach out for the handle, forcing his legs to speed up in one last, desperate attempt.

Then, the castle stopped abruptly, almost as if it had heard his desperate pleads and opened its door invitingly.

No one was inside, when Vil walked in anxiously.

The whole room was quite dark, so he wasn’t able to notice any details or concrete furnishing. It’s not like he planned to. His whole body was screaming in agony, his muscles were burning and his joints were cracking. His throat was sore from screaming and Vil had troubles steading his frantic breathing. His heart was still beating quite rapidly.

Vil felt that he could collapse from such draining stunt he had pulled mere seconds ago.

He saw the faint light from the fireplace and a chair standing before it. He didn’t waste any time and hobbled towards it. He sighed with relief, when he sat down, finally taking a rest his legs deserved. He couldn’t quite feel them, yet he dismissed this feeling. He stretched his hands, hoping to warm them up. He furrowed his eyebrows, the flame was barely ignited and it was slowly dying. Vil reached out to add some more pieces of the wood and watched with the delight the flame growing.

Finally, he could rest for a bit.

,,Oh, Mon Dieu!”

An excited voice speaking in some unknown to him language, made Vil open his eyes abruptly. For a brief second, he thought that perhaps the infamous wizard Pendragon had graced him with their presence, yet when he turned around, no one was there.

,,I’m here! Non, not there, here. Oui, just look down!”

The mysterious voice persisted and Vil has never been so confused in his entire lifetime. He looked down as it was requested and he was quite perplexed. He could see tiny hands made out of flames supporting a small yet bizarre form which was resting on the wooden pieces. He blinked few times to make sure whether he was seeing properly.

His eyes didn’t deceive him.

Before Vil stood a bright flame that certainly had bright, sparkling eyes and a mouth that was spilling random French words.

,,The flame is talking. I must take a break, I’m clearly going insane”

Vil muttered quietly, however the talking flame heard him and only chuckled in response.

,,Oh nonsense, my dear! I’m a demon. A demon who was forced to work for this good forsaken wizard”

The flame exclaimed, clearly excited that he finally had a chance to talk to someone else apart from Pendragon. He didn’t mind in the slightest shock written on Vil’s wrinkled face. Perhaps, it was too much for him in the span of one day.

,,I’m Rook! And you…Hmmm, let me think. Something is not right with you, isn’t it?”

 The flame demon was quite perceptive as Vil remarqued. He opened his mouth to share with Rook that he had been probably cursed, yet no sound left his throat. Despite his many attempts, nothing seemed to work. Exasperated, he threw his weakened arms in the air, clearly giving up.

,,Oh, I see. You’ve been cursed”

Vil’s heart seemed to stop for a brief moment, as his form filled with desperate hope. Perhaps it was his chance to get his old appearance back. He nodded.

,,Can you undone it?”

Rook seemed to ponder over Vil’s shy question that was filled with anxiety mixed with excitement.

,,Bien sûr! However, nothing is free in this world…”

Rook’s voice trailed a second, his carbon eyes staring directly at Vil with anticipation and mischief. Vil was suspicious. He hadn’t met many demons in his entire life, so he wasn’t sure how to talk to one. All he knew was the fact that they weren’t the most trustworthy creatures. One should be extremely careful while making a deal with a demon.

Vil wasn’t sure. He was aware what Rook was implying, yet he was hesitant. It wouldn’t be wise to strike a deal with a creature that could possibly betray you. However, from the rumors he had heard, he doubted that wizard Pendragon would be a better or safer option.

Perhaps, he could let them both try to find a remedy for this peculiar curse.

,,You want to make a deal with me, huh?”

,,You’re quite bright! I like you”

The demon responded, clearly happy with Vil accepting his implicit proposition.

,,I can turn you back to normal once I’m free. In order to liberate me from this misery, you’ll have to find the item Pendragon gave me when we first made a deal”

Vil raised one of his eyebrows questioningly. He was confused with the terms he had agreed to. Which item? It all sounded quite mysterious and more complicated than he had previously anticipated.

,,Which item?”

,,Malheureusement, I can’t really tell you that. The contract bounds me”

Rook explained, sighing heavily and Vil could only roll his eyes in annoyance. Great, so it was way harder after all. However, it wasn’t as if he had many options available to change his fate. Vil decided that he would think about it tomorrow. He had only heard Rook ranting about Pendragon’s vanity before he dozed off.

Vil was awakened by a scream.

Not a pleasant morning alarm.

,,YOU! How did you even get in here, old man?!”

The voice sounded extremely anxious, yet Vil could sense that it belonged to a young person who tried really hard to appear tough. If he wasn’t sleepy and still tired from the uncomfortable chair, he would probably scold this young man for calling him an old man. Even though, he was one.

Vil turned around and he saw a rather short guy who looked quite cute despite a scowl adorning his soft features. He had violent hair that contrasted with his pale skin and bright eyes. He was wearing his casual clothes and he appeared quite surprised and perplexed at the sight of Vil.

Quick, he had to quickly come up with a valid reason to stay here for a while.

Vil looked down at Rook who only shrugged his shoulders, clearly showing him that it was his problem to resolve. Looking around, he noted that Pendragon’s castle was in horrendous state. Never-ending piles of clothes were scattered all over the room; he could see dirty dishes that desperately needed to be washed. The whole ceiling was covered in spider webs and dust. Vil furrowed his eyebrows.

Wizard Pendragon truly was vile.

,,I’m wizard Pendragon’s new housekeeper”

Vil responded casually and confidently. He was manifesting that the guy standing before him buys his lie. Young man seemed to be engrossed in his thoughts for a brief moment, after hearing his declaration. He was muttering something quite quietly.

,,A housekeeper? I don’t think Y/n mentioned hiring someone…”

Violent-haired man eyed Vil suspiciously, before he shrugged his arms in defeat. Whatever. Y/n Pendragon was quite eccentric, so he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised if you ended up hiring someone to take care of this cluttered castle that desperately needed cleaning. Finally.

,,By the way, I’m Epel. I’m Y/n’s apprentice”

He introduced himself, so Vil quickly returned the gesture. Epel didn’t seem to mind him at all, quickly looking for some ingredients for breakfast. He supposed that since Rook let Vil inside, he couldn’t pose any real threat to him, so he could as well make a breakfast for them.

,,Where is Y/n?”

,,Oh, who knows that? Maybe they will return for breakfast…Or not, I’m not sure”

Epel responded, waving his hand dismissively. Great, Vil had no idea how long he would have to wait for you here. Epel found some bread in the drawer and began pouring himself and Vil some cold water.

,,Why won’t you eat some scrambled eggs with bacon?”

Vil suggested, his gaze fixated on deliciously looking bacon and eggs laying in the basket situated on a pile of books. Epel only laughed in response, before he glared at Rook who conveniently avoided his gaze.

,,Because, Rook here won’t let me! Only Y/n can cook on him”

We will see.

Vil reached a conclusion that he had suffered enough yesterday, chasing after that insolent castle and he deserved some fulfilling and delicious breakfast. He grabbed a frying pan and approached Rook menacingly. Epel only shook his head with pity, sure that certain fire demon would refuse.

,,Now, you insolent potato, you’re going to cook some eggs”

Vil’s firm and strict voice send a chill down Epel’s spine who was sure he was some old man who was quite chill. Rook shook his flame head, refusing to cooperate. A dreadful smile crept on Vil’s wrinkled lips that spelled a threat. He leaned down, whispering softly, making sure Epel didn’t hear their exchange.

,,Now, if you don’t cooperate, I will tell Y/n about our little deal and we will see what they do with this information”

Epel had never seen Rook complying so fast. He adjusted his flames in order to let Vil put his frying pan over his head. He could hear crystally clear Rook complaining about the situation, calling him an “old bully” and threatening to burn his breakfast, yet Vil paid him no attention. With a delighted smile on his face, he broke the shell of the egg.

Suddenly he felt a warm breath on his neck and silky strands of hair gently tickling his cheeks. A cold hand brushed against his, before it carefully snatched a frying pan from him. Vil could feel a presence behind him, so he turned on his heel only to face you.

Vil couldn’t utter a mere word, as his eyes widen.

It was you, standing dangerously close to him, offering him the same playful smile. Vil was sure he could recognize your jacket from miles.

,,My, my! Rook, you’re so obedient! Who would have thought?”

Your cheerful voice broke the silence between you two, as you began making the breakfast. You briefly glanced at Vil who was praying you wouldn’t recognize him, yet you made no remark before you turned your attention to flame demon.

,,I will prepare the breakfast, as I always do. Can you pass me the rest of the eggs?”

You asked Vil, not bothering to spare him another glance, as he only nodded in response fulfilling your command. While you seemed to bicker with Rook who was calling old man various remarks, he seemed to ponder over you.

Then, Vil connected the dots.

You being here could mean only one thing.

You were the wizard Pendragon who was the owner of Moving Castle and local tax evasion enjoyer who ate woman’s hearts. A chill went through Vil’s body who felt sick thinking about those rumors. It also meant that you were the person who saved him from the crowd of his fans and walked in the air with him.

,,Soooo, old boy, who are you exactly?”

[mytreepoetry]

"Sit down, my sweet."

Dazai x reader

Osamu Dazai, a name so beautifully soft-spoken, conjured feelings of deep admiration and love. He was the person you believed deserved the world and more, the one you cherished and for whom you would give up everything.

Your history together was long, and it surprised him that you had chosen him out of everyone to spend your life with. You were the one who always showered him with affection and taught him how to love—both you and, most importantly, himself. You showed him how to find the light in the darkest of nights. He loved you, needed you, and sought your love and care, just as you did in return.

The first time you both shared sweet intimacy, you guided him through it, two young souls wrapped in each other's embrace, savouring the moment together.

Osamu had acted confident, seemingly not caring about others' words, but you saw through his facade; you always did.

Today, you were surprised to find Dazai home before you. Normally, he arrived a little later. But the joy of being greeted at the front door and showered with kisses and loving words made the surprise all the more delightful.

As Osamu's kisses escalated, you paused between moans, mindful of your sweaty state from work, suggesting you take a bath first. He responded with a playful hug and a glance into your eyes, dismissing the concern.

"I'm sure you're tired, my beautiful one. Let me pamper you," he suggested, leading you to your shared bedroom.

In the gentle intimacy of the moment, he undid the buttons of your shirt, showering affectionate kisses on your chest, eventually removing your bra. He made you feel secure, as if you had no need for one with him by your side.

As his kisses ventured lower, evoking a rushed moan, you tried to conceal your pleasure, causing a slight frown to appear on his face. He wanted you to revel in your feelings and be free with him. His frown turned into a playful smirk as he imagined your inability to control your moans soon.

He drew closer, gently caressing your cheek, surprising you with his request, "Would you sit on my face, my pretty?"

Startled, you responded, "W-what, I might be too heavy for you, Dazai."

He quickly dismissed your concerns, "Nonsense!" and effortlessly lifted you onto him, seeking your consent for his desire.

"Please?" he pleaded as his hand caressed your covered backside.

You hesitated, but he didn't wait for a response, instead, playfully unzipping your pants.

Worried about suffocating him, you protested, begging him to stop.

"That's the idea, my beautiful, being enveloped in your sweet thighs," he said with a teasing smile, leaving you with excitement and bashfulness.

The atmosphere in the room was charged with passion, and Osamu's gentle lips met yours yet again, their tender touch igniting a spark within you.

"Sit down, my sweet," he implored, his desire evident.

You paused, expressing your concern, "No, Osamu. I don't want to hurt you."

In that moment, you both felt true desire, yet unsure of how to proceed. The connection between you was undeniable, but you were mindful of each other's well-being. The intensity of your emotions made the decision all the more significant.

Despite that, he suddenly pulled your thighs down and started pleasuring you.

He licked, he sucked, and thursted his tongue in a rhythmic dance, making you give off the most beautiful sounds.

Oh, how he adored your voice. So angelic and sweet, how could he not?

His pants were getting tight by you subconsciously grinding against his face as you now needed his touch. Your taste - his favourite sweet, and, oh, did you just grab his hair?

He started rubbing his legs together. A certain friction is what he requires. Both of his hands are busy pleasuring you together with his tongue. He thursts his hips into nothingness, he wants you to touch him, no, he needs it.

You let out a soft moan as you release all over his face.

And as you came down from the euphoric high of the intimate moment, your focus shifted to Osamu, whose teary-eyed and crimson flushed face startled you. Concern rushed through you, and you quickly got up, wanting to make sure he was okay.

"Dazai! Are you alright?!" you asked, your voice filled with worry and tenderness.

In that moment, as you looked into his eyes and saw the raw vulnerability etched across his face, you understood.

You looked down, and you noticed the visible wet spot on Osamu's trousers..

Dazai came in his pants while eating you out.

"Osamu, did you..?"

"D-don't say a word."

[ryuzakemo128]

Behold A Pale Horse

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x female reader/ you

Content Warning: Kyle Gaz Garrick the son of a billionaire from generations of old money, mental health issues touched on and briefly explored, philosophy explored to an extent, therapist and therapy session briefly inserted. Y/N is not metioned. Reader is called nicknames like: Firecracker.

Words: 5374

Masterlist

Credit for Dividers: @strangergraphics

Note: Italic writing are your thoughts are. In the case, I might need to tell you before you go ahead and decide to read this.

Note 2: Listening to Moonlight Sonata 1st movement is reccommended in my opinion. But any kind of classical music will fit as well.

Summary: You drape the black shirt over your body like a satin cloak owned by the angel of death and cut from the wings of the fourth horseman of the apocalypse, named Death.

You frowned as you looked at your paycheck, you didn’t know what to think of it. You weren’t used to having a large amount of money. Seventeen thousand pounds for the past month. It wasn’t something you felt like you could get used to anytime soon. You didn’t want to receive the pity of others.

You would rather die than receive the pity of others. Trust no one. Not even the people who call themselves your friend.

Do not mistake their kindness for affection. Show them nothing. Give them nothing.

You drape the black shirt over your body like a satin cloak owned by the angel of death and cut from the wings of the fourth horseman of the apocalypse, named Death.

A loud voice said, come and see. Behold a pale horse. The man that sat upon his steed was death, and hell followed him like a strong stench.

You had seen enough of death to know that the voice was a mere echo of your own thoughts. Taken the name of the Grim Reaper as it was yours to keep close to your heart and soul.

You didn’t care if it was never yours to have in the same sense of those of ‘the faith’. But what they wanted didn’t matter to you.

What you needed was far more substantial, in terms of ‘soul-searching’ and finding yourself all over again. What the fuck does finding ‘your truth’ mean, anyway? It sounds more like an excuse to spend frivolous amounts of money on a useless life coach they don’t need.

You had seen the horrors of war. The screams of the innocent, the smell of burning flesh, the cold touch of death, it all clung to you like a second skin. A reminder of what you had done. What you have been a part of and still work in, manners of death.

You might as well become the fourth horseman of the apocalypse at this stage of your life with all the lives you have taken by your own hand or by the hand of fate, which you had a say in.

The voice, it was, persistent, whispering sweet nothings of destruction into your ears, guiding you through the fog of war like a siren's call leading sailors to their watery graves.

My hands are covered in a sea of blood I will never wash away. Some nights I wake screaming, thinking I’m back there in the middle of the bodies of the people I have given the death sentence to.

I do not wish to be there again.

Ever.

Yet every night I am all the way back.

Over and over again. I see each of their faces painted, tattooed into my subconscious.

I want them to leave. Not only that, but I tell them to leave.

Yet they never seem to listen to me.

As if all I say is empowering them to remain in my mind.

Religion cannot save me.

Therapy is the route I have not taken seriously as of late. It is a sign.

I will go upon this path. Before hell itself consumes my soul.

Father, have I done the right thing?

Mother, are you ashamed of what I have unleashed?

I have created many men and women widows.

Created many children into a mass of orphans.

Yet the superiors of mine clap my shoulder and congratulate me as if I had done the greatest deed man could ever accomplish.

To me? It is the greatest burden I have dealt with.

The weight of their lives on my shoulders, a heavy crown of thorns digging deep into my skin. But I wear it, for the sake of what? The country? The queen? Or the fear that I might just be a monster in the eyes of society.

Yet nothing I could have done while you were alive would have been good enough for either of you.

The push to succeed, much like my older brothers before me. You neglected what I wanted in service to your own needs.

To your own wants and desires. Inside layers of a play written by William Shakespeare.

One where everyone has their part but me. One where everyone knows what their part entails and the consequences that come with it.

But I don't. I am the puppeteer whose strings are tangled, and the puppet is dancing to a tune I never knew.

But you can’t force people to like you. To love you. To adore you.

You cannot force people to do anything.

A dance where everyone expects you to know all the steps of once you have reached a certain point in your life.

“Dr. Stone. I was sincere in hoping therapy might unearth a lot of my….emotional baggage.” You told your doctor.

Your black skirt feeling more like a twisted contraption you were dying to take off by the time you were done in the doctor's office.

Her eyes were kind, understanding, a tad bit pitying. The kind of pity which always seem to make you want to scream. She nodded gently, her long platinum blonde hair brushing past her shoulders.

“It’s okay. Your feelings are valid. The first step is acknowledging that you need help.”

You always had ADHD, but your father didn’t believe it was a cause for alarm. Telling you, it was a hoax from ‘big pharma’ to get people to spend more on medication than to actually help people.

You felt like a burden. A failure. Especially when you were diagnosed with it at seven years old. He would yell at you, scream at you, tell you that you were just being lazy and that you needed to pay more attention.

How could you when everything was a blur of colours and sounds and words didn’t make sense?

When you were diagnosed with psychosis depression, in conjuncture of Synaesthesia and sensory processing disorder, it was like a sledgehammer to your already fragile sense of self. You felt like you were drowning in a sea of emotions and stimuli, with no one to throw you a lifeline.

Your father's dismissal of your struggles only served to fuel the fire of your isolation. You had always felt like an outsider in your own family, and now you had scientific evidence to prove it.

What good was evidence when the people who were supposed to support you didn’t believe in it?

A support system that couldn’t be bothered to support you. So, you learn to pickpocket from wealthy strangers in order to get the money you need for school supplies and food to eat during the school day. Lest your parents get a phone call from the school’s administrator to the child protective services.

The last thing you needed was to be taken from your home and placed somewhere else.

Keeping a sharp knife in your hoodie’s pocket, a silent reminder of what you were capable of unleashing unto others if you were given no other choice but to defend yourself.

“Cos I'm th' one gettin' in'a more fights than thee.” You reminded him with an eyebrow raised at him.

He chuckled before his expression grew serious. “Remember, it’s not for fights. It’s for when things get really bad. You're smarter than me, you’re smarter than all of us. Use it wisely.”

“Ta.” you muttered sheepishly in a bashful thanks.

It’s a long memory from years ago. Now, he is a married man with three daughters of his own, still living back in Yorkshire. After your father decided it was for the best that your brother, Caiden, had taken over the family farm. Leaving you to fend for yourself in the city with an alcoholic of a father who couldn’t even bother to remember your birthday.

You didn’t want to think what kind of desperation your mother would have needed to go through to leave you behind and cheat on your father repeatedly. Though, you know for a fact she didn’t care much about you or your older siblings, either. At least it was what your father drilled into you since you were sent off into the military at sixteen years old.

This is the least of your worries now.

The military charity dinner held by those in a level of wealth you were given the privilege to gawk at. Gaze upon in a hopeless wonder of knowing you were deemed less than in the grand scheme of the capitalist agenda.

“I don't know whether to be insulted at the gesture or wonder why they couldn't get someone else to attend in my place.” You told her as you stared at the window past her into the light grey cloudy sky.

“I could, no, I would be back there on the coastal shores in a heartbeat if they said they found someone else.” You continued to stare past her.

“I could be fishing for hours out there, and I wouldn’t have a care in the world.” You mentioned your diet of fresh fish, crab and the odd catfish if you were lucky enough to catch one.

Dr Stone nodded, scribbling notes on her clipboard, her pen moving swiftly, gliding across the page like an ice skater. As she processed your words.

“It’s important to find healthy ways to cope with your past traumas and the stress of your current job. Is there something you’ve always wanted to do, a hobby perhaps, that could help you find some peace?”

“I do MMA, Kickboxing, Axe-throwing, Javelin. I’m always studying anything to do with Electrical engineering. Even though I have doctorate now.”

“I haven’t found a reason to do much else other than fish as soon as I’m on leave. I leave out crab nets to catch crabs overnight. Primrose Valley is peaceful enough for someone who doesn't need much of anything.”

The doctor nodded, her gaze never leaving yours. “But what about something more…social? Something that doesn’t involve you being alone with your thoughts?”

“I don’t venture out much. I visit London for a two week vacation every three months. I come out more often if I need to get more clothes, shoes and tech for my workstation in my office.” You answered.

“My older brother said this military function was likely an excuse to parade around a poster child of a poor sod, a poverty-stricken soul who crawled her way to Colonel without wealth to back her up.” You mentioned.

Dr. Stone put her clipboard down and leaned slightly forward, her eyes searching yours. “And how does that make you feel?”

“One. It feels too convenient for him to say it. Two. I don’t know what to feel about it. Suspicious at the timing. But grateful for the opportunity at the same time.” You answered.

“I’m sorry for being so blunt, but I need to know where you’re coming from to help you better. How do you feel when you’re around others at these events?” She asked gently.

“I would have been offended if you weren’t blunt. It feels convenient they chose this time of year to do it. They could have chosen any other time of the year. But for some reason now felt like the ‘right time’. I feel like a zoo animal on display for them to gawk at and whisper about. Like they’re all expecting me to break down and show them the horrors of war. Like that’s what they want to see. That’s what makes them feel alive. That’s what makes them feel like they’re doing something noble by pitying me. Though, what is the use of pity now?”

You sigh heavily, feeling the weight of your words. “I feel like a fraud. Like I’m wearing a mask. A mask of success, of bravery, of strength. But underneath, I’m just a scared little girl who doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing in a room full of lions dressed as sheep.”

Dr. Stone nods thoughtfully. “It’s normal to feel out of place in such situations. The military has its own culture, and transitioning to civilian life can be challenging, especially when you’re thrust into the spotlight like this. But remember, you earned your rank through hard work and sacrifice. You’re not just a story for them to tell. You’re a person with feelings and experiences that have shaped you into who you are today. It’s okay to set boundaries and to choose how much you wish to share with them. They may not understand, but that’s their problem, not yours.”

“Progress without work is not real progress.” you responded remembering the first session with her.

“How about trying to find someone to talk to at the dinner tonight? Maybe someone who you can connect with on a deeper level, someone who won’t see you as a charity case or a trophy, but as a human being with a story to tell.” Dr. Stone suggested, her voice a gentle nudge towards the social horizon you had long avoided.

“Only one way to find out right?” you sighed thinking of it.

The military charity dinner was held in a grand ballroom, the kind you only saw in movies. Chandeliers sparkled like diamonds hanging from the ceiling, casting a warm, golden light on the marble floor.

The walls were lined with portraits of important figures, their stern faces watching over the event like guardians of the past. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the murmur of polite conversations.

You felt more like you were going through an outer body experience than actually attending the dinner. The room was filled with the who's who of society.

All dressed in their finest attire. The clinking of silverware and the soft laughter echoed around you.

A stark contrast to the chaos you were used to in the battlefield. You wore a sleek black dress that hugged your toned body. The fabric whispering against your skin as you moved.

It was a stark reminder of the armor you once wore. The one that actually kept you safe.

Looking for a seat painted. Coated. Dyed. Twisted inside the depths of both darkness and shadow.

The dinner was a masquerade ball of sorts, the kind where everyone wore their masks of charity and compassion while their true faces remained hidden behind a veil of wealth and privilege.

You walked through the crowd, the heels of your black stilettos clicking against the marble like the ticking of a time bomb, drawing glances that ranged from curious to pitying.

You felt like a wolf in sheep's clothing, armed with your sharp wit and the stories no one genuinely wanted to hear.

You were sipping on a potent amber liquid in the corner out of the view of those who would rather pity you from afar than muster the courage to speak to you.

The gentle tapping upon your shoulder you were determined to ignore. Yet as you pretended to ignore them as if they were not quite there. A deep voice, the accent of the queen’s English breaking through his lips as if they parted in gentle parting waves rather than words.

“Excuse me, colonel, if I may, your presence here is quite the talking point.”

“I suppose it would be. Most oddities of the norm are spoken of. Are they not? Those who do not fit within usually stand out as clear as daylight or a black sheep born from white.” You responded fixing the leather gloves enclosing your hands from view.

He chuckled, a rich, warm sound that seemed to fill the empty spaces in the room. “I suppose that’s true. But you, Colonel, you’re more like a diamond in the rough, aren’t you? Shimmering brilliantly amidst the coal of our mundane existence.”

“I find the apt description of a black sheep more befitting. A black sheep need not take dye to turn into a different colour, it is simply born that way. Wool worth more because it doesn't need to change into a different shade. It is just as it is meant to be but is often discarded for not fitting in with the flock.” You replied, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of your lips.

“I’m Kyle Garrick. But you can call me Gaz. I’ve heard quite the tales of your valour, Colonel.” He extended a hand, his grip firm but not overpowering, a sign of respect.

“Of that I have no doubt.” You took his hand and shook it firmly, looking into his eyes without blinking, as if to prove that you were not intimidated by his status. “Tales are often exaggerated to suit the teller’s needs. And I suspect that in this room, the truth is as elusive as a mirage in the desert of deception.”

Gaz chuckled again, his smile genuine. “Fair point. But I’ve seen enough of the world to know that true grit isn’t something that can be faked. So, tell me, Colonel, what brings a diamond in the rough to an event like this?”

“Other than being invited to it?” You questioned the young man.

He nodded in understanding, his eyes never leaving yours. “Indeed. Besides that, I mean. Is there something you’re hoping to get out of tonight?”

“I suppose I don't know. London is nosier than Primrose Valley. Lacks the sea air I have become accustomed to.” you answered.

Gaz leaned against the wall beside you, his eyes scanning the room as if he were assessing the situation. “I can understand that. The city can be...overwhelming at times. But there’s also something to be said for the energy here. The constant movement, the stories hiding in every corner. It’s like a battlefield in a different way, isn’t it? Just with less danger and more champagne.”

“You are just as likely to drown in it as to swim inside it.” you quipped. “Also, I don't know what battlefield you've been on. Most of mine have been as hectic as the daylight savings.”

Gaz’s eyes searched yours, a hint of curiosity in his gaze. “You’ve seen a lot, haven’t you?”

“One would certainly hope so. I started at sixteen at the behest of my father. My mother left one night, and she hadn't come home back since.” you answered.

Gaz’s eyes widened slightly, and his smile faltered. “That’s...young. Too young, really. But I suppose necessity is the mother of all invention, isn’t it?”

“Necessity breeds innovation. Innovation breathes in the soul of the desperate.” You said, taking a sip of your drink, your eyes never leaving his. The liquid burned down your throat like a trail of fire, a comforting pain, a familiar one. “Mr. Garrick, why do you find yourself here this evening, you do not strike me as a charitable soul.”

He chuckled, a sound that seemed to resonate with the very walls of the ballroom. “You’re right, Colonel. I’m not exactly the charity type.

But, my father’s a high-ranking general, and he believes in supporting our troops.

Plus, it’s a good way to network, keep an eye on the new recruits, and maybe, just maybe, find a bit of the excitement I’ve missed since leaving active duty.

And you? What’s your reason for being here?”

“Do I require one?” you answered.

“No, I suppose not. But it’s always interesting to know what brings people together in a place like this. Besides, I find that the most intriguing people often have the most intriguing stories to tell. And I’d wager yours is quite the tale.” Gaz said, his eyes still holding yours, a challenge in his gaze.

“Not quite for those who cannot stomach the taste copper.” you responded.

“I see. Then tell me, what do you do in your free time?” Gaz asked, his gaze never leaving yours.

“MMA, Kickboxing, Axe-throwing, Javelin. I’m always studying anything to do with Electrical engineering. I haven’t found a reason to do much else other than fish as soon as I’m on leave. I leave out crab nets to catch crabs overnight. Primrose Valley is peaceful enough for someone who doesn't need much of anything.” you answered looking at the ornate fork on the table.

Gaz’s eyes lit up at the mention of MMA and kickboxing. “Now that’s a side of you I wasn’t expecting. Most women in the military I know prefer the more…traditional forms of relaxation. How did you get into that?”

“I'm a close combat specialist as well as a sniper. Best of both. A combination of two deadly worlds. I enjoy the rush and the discipline it brings. It keeps my mind sharp and my body in check. Plus, it’s a good way to let off steam. As for electrical engineering, it’s always been a passion of mine. Something about the chaos of circuits and wires makes sense to me when nothing else does. It’s like a puzzle, but instead of a picture, you get to build something that actually works.” You replied, your eyes never leaving the fork.

“Fascinating. You're a woman of many talents, Colonel.” Gaz said, his voice filled with genuine interest.

“You have to be. To survive and thrive in this type of world you need it. You require it. You must find yourself utterly complete inside and out.” you replied with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Ah, I see. So, tell me, what’s the most thrilling part of your job?” Gaz asked, his gaze still on you, as if he was trying to piece together the puzzle of your life.

“The technology. It adapts faster than we can ever learn to use it. Delightful to see the older generations scramble around as they shriek, 'How do I use this?' in different words. But the question always remain the same.” you snorted.

“But the most thrilling part would be when you can outsmart it. When you can use it in ways it wasn’t intended to be used. That’s when you know you’re truly ahead of the game. Like using a smartphone as an explosive device or a simple USB stick to bring down a network. The simplicity is the best part. It’s like watching a magician pull a rabbit out of a hat, except the rabbit is a bomb and the hat is your enemy’s security system.”

Gaz’s eyes widened, a spark of intrigue lighting up his expression. “Remarkable. It’s not often you find someone who can appreciate the beauty in chaos quite like that.”

“Chaos is everywhere. From the sea, to the sky and the creatures just below the ground. To the very sciences. We know less of our ocean than we do about our moon.”

“Indeed. But chaos is predictable if you know the patterns. And when it comes to technology, I’ve found that the patterns are quite…beautiful, in their own destructive way. Like a tornado, you see it coming, you know the path of destruction, but there’s a certain…elegance to it, isn’t there?” Gaz replied, his voice low and intense.

“Not quite. It is safe to assume we know because of what we already do know.” you pointed out. “A fool assumes he has all the answers. A fool denies truths revealed later to writhe in his 'limitless' ignorance. A smart man knows he does not know everything. A smarter one knows the right questions to ask to find the answers he does not know yet. And the smartest knows when not to ask at all, for fear of what he might find out.”

Gaz nodded thoughtfully, his gaze still locked with yours. “A philosopher and a warrior, Colonel. Quite the combination. I can see why they picked you as the face of this event. You have a way with words that could charm the birds from the trees.”

“My therapist recommended most of the books I have read on Existentialism Absurdist philosophy. It made life seem to look like it had more sense than it truly does. Like a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing, or a goldfish than happens to be koi fish. It's all in how you look at it.” you said with a shrug.

As the dinner came to a close, you were left with your thoughts and memories stirred up. As you walked over to your car, the cool London night air slapped you with reality. You were still the Grim Reaper, haunted by the ghosts of your past. You looked at you car, a 1966 black dodge charger, a symbol of your old life.

As you placed your vinyl leather handbag, until you heard your name, your heart skipped a beat. You turned around to see a man in a sharp navy blue tuxedo with a crimson tie walking towards you, a smile playing on his lips.

“Colonel, I hope I’m not interrupting your quiet moment.”

“If you call heading back to a hotel room as a 'quiet moment' then I would hate to see what you define as a party.” you replied dryly.

The man chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mirth. “Fair enough. But I must admit, I found your company quite refreshing tonight. A breath of fresh, if not salty, sea air.” He extended his hand once again. “John Price, at your service. And before you ask, no, I'm not related to the hotel chain.”

“I was thinking of of a tinned fish brand than a hotel chain.” You said as you took his hand. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Price.”

Price's grip was firm, but not overpowering. His smile remained, but his eyes searched yours, as if looking for something hidden beneath the surface. “Please, call me John. And the pleasure is all mine, Colonel. I couldn't help but overhear your conversation with Gaz. Quite insightful, really. Rare to find someone who understands the complexities of our line of work.”

“I would hope so getting shot at at the ripe age of 17 is not something I would have wanted my own children to go through.”

“Indeed, it’s a path that shapes us, whether we wish it or not. Tell me, Colonel, are you ever haunted by the ghosts of your past?” John Price asked, his voice carrying a weight that suggested he was all too familiar with such hauntings.

“John. No one can kill someone and come back the same as they were. It’s like trying to walk through a forest fire unscathed. The heat changes you, the smoke fills your lungs and alters your breathing forever. You’re never quite the same.” You replied, your voice a mix of honesty and resignation.

John’s smile remained, but his eyes grew serious. “Wise words, Colonel. And I suspect you speak from experience. I’ve seen enough of those fires to know that you can’t escape them untouched. But sometimes, those ghosts can be…useful. They can drive us to do things we never thought possible, push us to be better than we ever imagined we could be. And sometimes, just sometimes, they give us the strength to keep walking when we feel like we can’t go on anymore. Have you ever felt that way?”

“On and off. Most days yes. On others I want to be on my boat and fish for two hours.” you answered.

John's eyes searched yours, a silent understanding passing between the two of you. “Fishing, huh? I’ve always found there’s something peaceful about being out on the water, just you and the fish. It’s a stark contrast to the chaos we deal with in our line of work, isn’t it?”

“Nothing like catching a fish, cutting it up and eating for dinner later.” you smirked.

John chuckled, the sound echoing in the emptying ballroom. “Indeed. But tell me, do you ever find that the quiet of the water gets too…quiet? That you miss the rush?”

“Covert ops. Those ones are the ones I liked most of all. Its the combination of the James Bond spy feeling and the reality of it all. You get to save the world and look good doing it, minus the fancy cars and the women of course. Just me and my trusty boat, a fishing pole, and a whole lot of patience.” you said, a ghost of a smile playing on your lips.

John’s eyes lit up, a spark of shared experience in his gaze. “Ah, the quiet before the storm. The thrill of the hunt, the anticipation of the catch.

It’s quite a rush, isn’t it? The adrenaline pumping through your veins as you wait for the right moment to strike, knowing that one wrong move could mean the end of the mission. And yet, when you succeed, it’s like nothing else in the world.”

You ended up giving him your number to him. You don't know why you did. You felt compelled to do it. It was a choice you have decided to do in the heat of the moment.

Thinking nothing of it. As you drove to the hotel you booked to stay in for the duration of your stay in London. It wasn’t as nearly draped in luxury expenditures as one of the wealthy would have.

However, it wasn’t the cheapest either. It was the perfect kind of ‘safe’ middle ground you could find. It was enough to satisfy your needs without making you feel guilty for spending your hard-earned savings.

You decided to text your friend to check on your home along the coast. You weren't sure what to feel about this London trip. It was a new thing for you. A time for just yourself. And your mind. Everything else is extra.