#the devourer of all things pt 2

[spockvarietyhour]

Star Trek Prodigy "The Devourer of All Things Pt. 2"

[wordsofwhimsy]

🅲🅾🅽🅲🆁🅴🆃🅴 🅵🅻🅾🆆🅴🆁🆂 pt. 2

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

PAIRING: Sinister!Mark Grayson x Reader

WARNINGS: Abusive/Possessive behavior, Smut, Language

INSPIRED: by the song “luther” by Kendrick Lamar & SZA

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

♫♪ In this world, concrete flowers grow Heartache, she only doin' what she know … ♫♪

“So how was your day?”  Your knife glided with ease through the steak on your dinner plate.  Taking up your fork, you took a bite.  Cooked to perfection, you think.  You savored the taste.

“Tedious,” Mark responded dryly, devouring his meal with much less mindful intention.  “You’d think these people would have learned by now—why do they keep resisting?”  You could think of a million reasons to give him as an answer, but after so many months you’d finally learned that these types of questions were strictly rhetorical.  Mark sighed, setting down his silverware and looking at you from across the table. “I’m just glad to be home with you.”  You didn’t meet his stare, instead choosing to keep your eyes fixed on your food.  “You look beautiful.”

Your face flushed at his words. “Thank you,” you responded softly, brushing your hair behind your ear and glancing briefly up at him.  Mark watched you with unbridled intensity.  Despite everything that had transpired over the past half year, you still found yourself absolutely enamored by his charm.  The thought of this riddled you with guilt.  How could you still be so attracted to him considering all of the heinous acts he had – and continued – to commit?  What did that say about you?  A familiar sickness bubbled in your stomach; your appetite suddenly gone.  You set down your utensils and let go of a quiet breath.

“Done eating?” He questioned.  You finally gave him your full attention, offering a weak smile and nodding your head.

“It was delicious.  Give Jacques my regards.”  Mark couldn’t understand why you insisted on giving praise to the chef who cooked for the two of you, but then again, he didn’t understand a lot of human things anymore.  To him, Jacques was nothing more than a tool to be used.  An object that Mark possessed and would do away with once it stopped meeting his expectations.  You constantly wondered if he viewed you in the same light.

“Let’s go to bed then.  It’s been a long day.” You hum in agreeance and wait patiently as he stands from his seat and makes his way over to you.  The shackle around your ankle was unlocked, and although it wasn’t tight you still felt relief from its removal.  Its restraint was replaced by Mark’s hand, gently resting on the back of your neck.  This of course was an even better measure of security than the chain could ever be.  You did your best to take your time heading to the bedroom.  This was, after all, the space you spent nearly all of your time.  Whenever Mark was off suppressing the world, you were kept on a chain connected to the bed which was just long enough for you reach the conjoined bathroom.  When he was home you were freed from the shackles, but even that privilege was only recently acquired.

Despite your best efforts, you’d reached the bedroom in less than a minute.  He guided you to the foot of the bed where you took a seat and he stood in front of you, looking down.  His mask was off but he was still dressed down in his costume.  You brought your hands together in your lap, subconsciously making yourself as small as possible.  Mark could hear your heart thudding rapidly in your chest, and he couldn’t help but smirk.  He knew you weren’t ready to admit it, but you craved him.  Deeply, in an almost primal sense.  This was how he knew you truly belonged to him, and he loved it. “So what have you been up to today?” His question seemed cruel, considering the circumstances.

“I finished the book I was reading,” You responded, choosing not to play into his cruelty.  A small, but genuine smile painted your face. “It had a beautiful ending.”  This was a true statement.  You’d actually cried, rather hard for quite a while after it was over.

“That’s nice, maybe you can tell me about it later.” You nodded your head as he slowly puts himself on his knees in front of you, his hands now resting on your thighs. His thumbs rubbed small, slow circles on your sensitive skin causing your breathing to stutter. “You were on my mind more than usual today…”

“O-Oh…?”

“Mhmm.” Mark leaned down and planted a soft, lingering kiss to the inside of your thigh.  The physical euphoria this small gesture gave you was unreal.  “I couldn’t stop thinking about these legs of yours…” he murmured into your supple flesh before kissing up further, the bridge of his nose pushing the fabric of your dress back as he went.  Your hands writhed around themselves as you closed your eyes and leaned your head back, fighting to manage your emotions.  Your thoughts were like a broken traffic light, rapidly flashing from STOP to GO over and over again.

As if reading your mind Mark abruptly pulled away, leaving you reeling as you reopened your eyes. Focusing your vision you found him still on his knees in front of your, but his expression read of wild hunger and desperation.  “I need you, [Name].” His hands moved from your thighs to your hips as he raised up on his shins.  Your hands instinctively moved to overlap his as you responded,

“I’ll always be yours.”  Mark felt a high hearing you say this.  He continued to slowly creep up the edge of the bed, his fingers moving to gently touch every part of your body until he completely overtook you.  Your hair fanned out around you as you stared up at him with large doe eyes.  You looked so innocent.  A true wonder that needed to be protected and kept safe.  Just the sight of you overwhelmed his senses.  “Take me,” you breathed in a weak whisper, setting Mark completely over the edge.  Moving as fast he could manage he stripped himself of his suit and you of your panties, opting to keep your loose fitting dress on.

Positioning himself at your entrance, your eyes raked over the immaculate contours of his chest, shoulders, and arms.  He truly did put the Greek statues to shame.  You could feel his tip rubbing back and forth over your slit, pressing for a moment on your most sensitive part eliciting a pathetic plea from you. “Please baby… Don’t make me wait….”  The combination of your innocent expression and sultry words was more than he could take.  Sliding into you felt like entering into nirvana.  He kept the rhythm slow at first as his hands palmed your breast through the fabric of your shirt—no bra of course, he preferred you never have them on for this exact reason.  Your legs were delicately wrapped around his low back, urging him to stay close to you. 

After a moment his hand slipped down your stomach and between your two sweating bodies to your clit, where he rubbed circles with calculated pressure.  You moaned and writhed beneath his masterful touch, your reaction encouraging him further.  “You’re such a good girl,” he praised huskily. “You make me so proud, always taking it so well.”  His praise made you even wetter and he could tell. “Cum f’me baby girl.  You can do it, you’re almost there.”  And cum you did in a panting, sweating flurry.  Your walls squeezing around him was indescribable. 

But the night was far from over of course, with the stamina of a viltrumite he could last for hours.  In a swift motion Mark flipped you both over so he was on his back and you sat on top.  His hands gripped your thighs tightly as he thrust up into you and he bounced you easily on his hard length.  “Maaark~” you cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Just bounce on it f’me baby, you’re doing s’good,” he encouraged.  “Just like that, you got it.”  You gave it your best go, although you were still so stimulated and reeling from the orgasm you’d just experienced.  These sexual moments would happen regardless of your opinion, and you found that getting as much enjoyment out of it as possible just made the most sense.  His hands traveled further back to grip your ass, giving him better leverage to pump into you.  You could swear that you were going to rip in half with how deep he was sinking into your cunt. “God you feel so good,” he breathed. “So so fucking good.”

“Ugh, M-Mark I don’t know how much more I can take!”

“Shh, you’ve got this baby just keep going.” His thrusts were becoming more aggressive as you had turned all but into a sniveling mess.  Switching positions once again in an instant, you found yourself flat on your stomach with your ass raised in the air as he railed into you from behind.  Your dress fell down to pool on the bed around your face, and you were grateful for the fact that your eyes were covered.  All of your senses were on overdrive and even the tiniest reprieve was still something.

“Tell me who owns this,” he demanded.

“You do,” your cried into the mattress, fingers gripped into the sheets for dear life.  This went on for what seemed like an unearthly amount of time, being tossed and flipped into every position imaginable and you reaching a climax countless times.  You were truly delirious in the moment when he finally reached his limit and finished inside you.  You both collapsed onto the bed, trying desperately to catch your breath.  Mark of course recuperated much quicker than you, and was putting you into a warm bath while you still found your body to be all but useless.  He cleaned you tentatively and with such sweet softness.  It was in moments like this that you remembered why you loved him.

This was the true duality of man, reflected perfectly in Mark Grayson.  These days he may have publicly rejected all of his humanity, but you still knew it to be there.  A violent, loving, controlling, gentle, possessive, generous creature was the perfect description of all of humankind.  He was a flower growing in concrete.  Confused, beautiful, and strong but trying to exist in a place that wasn’t meant for him.

This was why you would always love him.  Even if it meant hating yourself.

[soaringcomets]

ꜜ﹒﹒REMMICK P LINKS

Remmick/reader

WARNING - You must be logged into twitter already for these to work

DO NOT OPEN IN PUBLIC

A.n - This is my first time posting p links and honestly I don't often search them out so if this post isn't what you're typically used to in that sphere that's why!

Once Remmick finally convinces you to sit on his face? God, you're lucky if he ever lets you sit anywhere else Remmick talking you through it because —unless you preoccupy it— that mouth is always running. And, always expects an answer.

Gripping Remmick's hair while he worships your cunt, give it a hard tug, he loves when you're rough Sometimes you think Remmick is trying to devour you whole when he eats you out, and maybe he is Pt. 2 Remmickis no stranger to the outdoors, nor is he shy about taking you where he wants you. He takes his time with you too, after all there's no other place he'd rather be

Remmick loves fucking you stupid on his fingers while he holds you close and swallows all your pretty sounds He can’t help himself when you wear those pretty dresses for him You're no stranger to being on top but Remmick has one condition, he has to be able to see your face as you fuck yourself on his cock He's not a patient man, Remmick will eat you through your panties if he has to

Being a vocal man, Remmick has never been good at hiding his moans when your pussy grips him so good

Remmick using his vampire strength to bounce you up and down on his cock He can get so mean when he’s hungry, good thing you’re there for him to pound his frustration out

It can be easy to feel like you're the inhuman one when Remmick worships your body like he's an offering at your altar, but he's quick to kill that thought when he fucks you like the animal he is   pt. 2   Pt. 3

[leviruthan]

accidentally confessing to them while you were drunk pt.2

characters: vice housewardens minus ortho. jamil + other overbloat guys are here

You had a rough day. Between classes and Grim's annoying behavior plus the amount of assignment that the professors keep piling up- you were stressed and exhausted. Nothing new, to be honest. When a few students suggested grabbing drinks at the "Mystery Shack" you agreed, figuring you deserved to chill a little. One drink turned into two and before you knew it, you were... drunk and extremely relaxed.

That's when you found yourself face-to-face with him. Whoever it is, the result is the same. A rush of feelings amplified by the alcohol, leading to a embarrassing and honest (accidental) confession.

TREY CLOVER

Trey wasn't the type to go to places like that on his own. But he was there because, as Heartslabyul's unofficial mom, he'd been roped into keeping an eye on his dormmates (and Cater begged him to come along) Someone had to make sure Ace didn't start a bar fight or something similar. He was nursing a glass of simple water, his usual calm smile in place. Then you stumbled over to his table with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes.

"Trey!" you exclaimed, a cheerful smile on your face before plopping down across from him with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. "I didn't...expect to see you here. You're so… so nice. Too nice. It's your fault that I am totally.... you're too good!"

He is somewhat surprised to see you so intoxicated, your words not even making sense. But kind of found it cute honestly. He raised an amused eyebrow. "Is that so? I think I'm just average."

"Nooo!" you protested, leaning forward so fast you nearly knocked over his drink. "You're like… a warm cookie! Fresh from the oven. All soft and perfect and....and...and I love you okay?! And you smell like cinnamon" you leaned forward towards him then sniffed him. "...And I wanna kiss you and all that!"

The table went silent. Trey’s smile froze, his glass halfway to his lips. The students nearby choked on their drinks, and Ace let out a low whistle. Your confession hung in the air like the elephant in the room, loud and gloriously mortifying. Before Trey could respond, you decided the best course of action was to drape yourself across the table, grab his hand, and press a sloppy kiss to his knuckle. "I think I really really really like youu..."

Trey brain short-circuited. He was used to handling chaotic situations, but this? This was uncharted territory. His ears turned pink and he let out a nervous chuckle. He gently sets his hand free. "Okay, let’s… slow down there. You’re probably gonna regret this tomorrow."

You didn’t hear him. You already passed out with your face smushed against the table, snoring softly. Trey sighed with a hand running through his hair. He couldn’t deny the warmth blooming in his chest at your words even if they were fueled by alcohol. 

Though he did not think he would ever admit it. He always thought you were cute. Your determination, the way you devour his desserts with that big grin... and well everything.

But he is practical, always putting duty first. So he never let himself dwell on it. Your confession whether drunken or not, hits him harder than he expects. He feels torn between dismissing it as alcohol-fueled nonsense and hoping there's some truth to it. Either way, he isn't going to let you stumble home alone.

He gently pries you off the stool, slinging your arm over his shoulder. "....Well, let’s just get you home before you confess to the bartender next," he mutters. He carries you back to Ramshackle.

He tucked you into bed, left a glass of water and some painkillers on your nightstand. And tried not to overthink the way his heart skipped when you mumbled his name in your sleep.

You woke up with a headache that felt like a stampeding wildebeest and vague memories of humiliating yourself. 

Trey isn't one to make a big deal out of things, so when you run into him he's casual as ever. And when you stammer, obviously mortified about last night, he simply chuckles. "You were pretty talkative," he teases a little leaning closer to you. Your face burns.

"Don't worry, I won't hold you to it. Unless you meant it." He leaves it at that. His tone was gentle, leaving the door open without pushing it. You nodded, face burning. Trey wasn’t going to let you drown in embarrassment. He was giving you a chance to figure out what you really felt, one batch of cookies at a time.

RUGGIE BUCCHI

The Mystery Shack was a goldmine for Ruggie Bucchi.

Ruggie is here for one reason: free food. Some Savanaclaw upperclassmen were bragging about sneaking snacks from the Shack's kitchen. And of course Ruggie wasn't one to miss a hustle. He tagged along to supervise. He's got a plate of pilfered chicken wings and a smug grin, dodging the bartender's suspicious glares while scoping out any unattended drinks.

You were meanwhile drowning your sorrows in a third glass of something sparkly and purple. Your head is spinning. Everything feels dreamy.

You’re leaning against the bar, laughing too loud at a bad joke. When he notices you Ruggie slides up with a half-eaten sandwich in hand. "Yeesh, Prefect, you’re a mess," he teases with a smirk. "How many of those fruity things you had? You look two seconds away from faceplanting onto the ground. That will be a sight to see."

Your brain is swimming, and Ruggie’s sly grin is doing weird things to your heart. You completely ignore what he's talking about. Before you can think (well you aren't very thinky right now) you grab his sleeve and blurt, "Ruggie, I like you. You're so cute."

Ruggie's eyes widen at the unprompted response that you just gave. He nearly chokes on his sandwich. "H-Huh?! What's that supposed to mean?!" He laughs, but it’s nervous, his tail flicking behind him. "You're drunk as a skunk, aren't ya? Dont go saying weird stuff."

"No, I mean it." you insist, swaying closer. "You're always helping me out even though you act like you aren't. And your laugh's all… hehe… I love it. You're a scrappy little hyena who steals my heart along with snacks!" you giggle like the fool you were currently. Leaning forward to clumsily hug him, you almost fall. He barely catches you because he's caught super off guard.

Ruggie's brain has been frozen, ears twitching as his brain processed your words. The nearby Savanaclaw students snickered. Leona who was lounging in a corner, raised an eyebrow with a smirk like he was watching a particularly entertaining soap opera. 

Ruggie is so flustered. Scratching his cheek to hide the blush. "Tch, you’re gonna make me lose my appetite," he grumbles, but he doesn't pull away when you lean on him. "C'mon, let’s get you somewhere you won’t embarrass yourself worse. And, uh… maybe we'll talk about this when you're not three sheets to the wind, yeah?"

You're already all over him. Throwing your arms around his shoulders and ruffling his hair, cooing about how soft his ears are. "So fluffy!" you squeal, trying to pet them while he squirms, half-laughing, half-protesting.

You passed out thanks to being too intoxicated, slumping against his shoulder with a contented sigh. 

Ruggie is a pragmatist. He doesn’t trust easily. And feelings are a luxury he rarely affords. But you've always been different, someone who matches his hustle without judgment. Your confession while sloppy, makes his chest feel weirdly tight. He’s not sure if it’s the alcohol talking or if you actually mean it. But the thought of you picking him over everyone else? It's got him feeling really giddy. He’s not falling head over heels just yet. But he’s definitely very intrigued.

With a muttered curse, he slung your arm over his shoulder and hauled you back to Ramshackle, grumbling about extra work the whole way.

When you ran into him at the cafeteria next time, he was his usual cheeky self. He snagged an extra donut from your tray with a grin.

"Yo. You look like death warmed over." he said, his eyes lingered on you a little longer than usual. When you mumbled an apology for last night, he waved it off.

"Eh, you were drunk. Happens. But, uh… you meant any of that? Cause I ain't opposed to a partner in crime, just so you know." His tone was casual, but you can see his ears are perked. Waiting for your answer.

You stammered, blushing because it was pretty embarrassing. His grin told you he wasn't going to let you off easy. Ruggie wasn’t one for mushy stuff, but he was giving you a chance to figure out if your drunken confession had any truth to it. And maybe, just maybe, he was hoping it did.

JADE LEECH

The Mystery Shack wasn’t Jade's usual scene, but he was there on business. Floyd had dragged him along to scope out the competition. Apparently, the Shack's signature drinks were cutting into Mostro Lounge's profits. 

Jade is observing the crowd AKA gathering intel for Azul. The bar's a for gossip. And he's sipping something non-alcoholic. All polite smiles and sharp eyes. He notices you're there and decides to "check in" for his own amusement.

You're wobbling near the dance floor, humming off-key. Then Jade appears like he materialized from thin air. "My, my, you seem to be enjoying yourself," he says with that smooth as ever voice. "Do take care not to overdo it, hmm?"

His teasing tone and that infuriatingly perfect smile hit you like a tidal wave. The alcohol loosens your tongue, and you blurt out of the blue "Jade?? You're....ugh, I... Your creepy charm has got me all messed up!"

Jade's eyes widen for a fraction of a second before his smile sharpens, delighted. He's thinking you're obviously speaking bullshit stuff without any thought. But it's entertaining so he pushes further. "Oh? What a fascinating development," he purrs, leaning closer. "I must say, I didn't expect such words from you. How terribly intriguing."

"I’m serious!" you hiccup, pointing at him. "You're all polite BUT scary and… it’s so damn hot. You're a low-key terrifying dude. But hot terrifying. I like you. I wanna go mushroom hunting with you and..hic..maybe kiss you in the woods or something." You laugh, spilling a bit of your drink. Oblivious to the way his eyes glint and his smile widens.

He chuckles, low and dangerous. He's clearly enjoying this far too much. "Dear me, such bold words. I wonder if you'll feel the same come morning." He gently steers you toward a quieter corner, his hand on your back. "Let's ensure you don’t make any more reckless declarations tonight. Though I must admit, I'm rather curious to see if this confession truly holds water."

You weren't listening. You leaned closer, nearly tipping over. You’re touchy like never, leaning against his arm and tracing the edge of his glove, looking fascinated by the texture. "So fancy..." you mumble. Then try to hug him only to almost fall miserably.

Jade catches you with ease. Chuckling as you babble about how and why you like him. He's enjoying it, somehow it's more entertaining than anything else even if he mostly thinks you're just saying such things cause you're drunk. He lets you cling while steering you away from spilling more drink on him.

Steadying you as you swayed, he said, "Such bold words. I'll have to hold you to them when you're sober."

But you were already out, slumping against his chest with a soft snore. Jade sighed, a mix of amusement and exasperation. He carefully lifted you, carrying you back to Ramshackle with Floyd trailing behind, still snickering. He left you tucked in with a glass of water and a single pristine mushroom on your nightstand. A strange Jade-like token so you know Jade was here.

"What a fascinating evening," he smiles cryptically after tucking you in with much care, looking at you one last time before leaving.

You woke up with a pounding headache and a mushroom staring at you accusingly. You remember you probably bothered Jade last night. And some memory that feel like a dream. Anyway you went to see him soon. When you ran into Jade at the Mostro Lounge, he was infuriatingly composed, polishing a glass with that same enigmatic smile. He tells you to take a seat first.

He brings it up because of course he isn't letting you get away with that. His smile is sharp. "You were quite the spectacle last night. Care to clarify your sentiments?"

You tilt your head. The night was a foggy mess that didn't feel real.But all you can think is that you probably humiliated yourself to an extent. You haven't confirmed them yet. "Sentiments?"

He leans onto the table, coming face to face with you, voice smooth as silk. "You expressed such great admiration, I am quite hurt you can't remember," but he is smiling like always.

The memories crash in or well, they're now confirmed. And you cringe. "I didn’t mean to- okay so" you sigh, deciding since you've come this far might as well... "I do.. like you, but I didn’t want to say it like that! Can we just forget it?"

Jade's smile widens, a hint of genuine warmth beneath the menace. "Forget? Oh, but I’m far too intrigued. Shall we discuss this further… privately?" You have this eel hooked, but he'll toy with you first, savoring every flustered reaction.

ROOK HUNT

The Mystery Shack was the perfect hunting ground for Rook Hunt, who was there observing beauty (people-watching with unsettling intensity). He had been invited by some Pomefiore students who wanted his poetic input on their new cocktail recipes, and Rook couldn't resist of course.

You were trying to forget your miserable life with a fourth glass of something glittery and alarmingly sweet. And it was too good that you kept drinking even though you started feeling dizzy.

You spotted Rook perched on a barstool saying poetic stuff about the whatever.

"Rook!" you called, stumbling over with a dopey grin. "You’re so weird! But good weird! Anddd! I love you! You're like a sparkly arrow that shoots right through my heart! Hehe!" You giggle like an excited child.

His reaction is super accepting. Rook's eyes light up and he claps like you've just performed a Shakespearean soliloquy. "Mon tresor, what passion!" he exclaims, absolutely enchanted.

His enthusiasm made drunk you even more enthusiastic. "I wanna...hic...write cheesy poems together." You grab his hand, looking up at him with starry eyes and a shy smile.

He so thrilled by your raw emotion, even if it was fueled by cheap vodka. The idea of you as his poetic muse is already spiraling into a dozen romantic fantasies in his head. 

"Such raw, unfiltered beauté!" You threw your arms around him, nuzzling his shoulder and mumbling about how he was too pretty for this world.

Rook is over the moon. He lives for grand gestures and heartfelt declarations, and your confession is like a gift wrapped in glitter. He always admired your authenticity, your ability to shine despite everything. This just seals it. You're his muse, his star, his raison d'être. He’s already planning a forest picnic to celebrate your "heart's truth". 

"Alas, my dear, you are far too radiant for your own good!" he said. But you weren't awake to hear it because you passed out in his arms with a blissful smile. Rook carried you back to Ramshackle like a knight bearing a sleeping princess. He left you tucked in with a handwritten poem on your nightstand. About how beautifully you have expressed your feelings. (too much credit lmao)

When you you next saw him you wanted to hide in a bush. "Rook, I was drunk. I am so sorry for the trouble-"

"Non, non!" he interrupted, leaning forward and pressing a finger to your lips. "There is no shame in truth. I am enchanted, and I await your next verse- sober or otherwise." He winked, leaving you flustered but oddly charmed. Rook wasn't going to let this go, but he will give you time to decide if your feelings were real. He sure hopes they are!

LILIA VANROUGE

Lilia was at the Mystery Shack for fun of course. He's flitting around, and trying all the dangerous and hardcore drinks. Being a fae and being as experienced as he was of course he wasn't getting drunk or anything. He's just chatting with students like he was one of them.

You you were on your first drink. A a student said it was light. Spoiler, it wasn’t. Your head was a carnival ride.

You're just lazing around on a couch, giggling at the ceiling for no particular reason. Lilia plops down beside you cause he noticed you were here! And what else to do than bother his favorite human? His grin is in full force. "Khee hee, you’re quite the sight tonight, little one" he teases. "Had a bit too much, have we?"

His playful energy is infectious, and in your drunken haze you grab his sleeve and blurt "Lilia, you're so cool. How can you be so old yet so cute? I like you."

Lilia cackles, nearly falling off the couch. "Oh, my! Such fervor!" he says, wiping a tear from his eye. "You're a bold one, confessing to an old bat like me. But I must warn you my heart is a tricky thing to catch." His tone is light and amused.

"I'm serious! Don't take it as a joke!!" you slur, poking his cheek. But who could really take you seriously in this state? "I really like you. I wanna be around you foreveeeer!"

"Khee hee, forever's a long time, Dearie," he says, patting your head. "Lets get you sobered up before you pledge your eternal soul, hmm?" He is mostly just finding it funny.

Lilia has lived centuries, so he's not easily swept off his feet. But your drunken confession is certainly adorable. He's always liked your nature. Your honest heartfelt words make him feel oddly fond. He’s not falling in love yet but he's definitely attached. He lived long enough to know genuine affection when he saw it. And yours was as real as it was hilarious.

As expected you passed out soon. Head on his shoulder as you drool slightly. Lilia chuckled and scooped you up like you weighed nothing. Lilia floats you home (literally) while humming a lullaby.

The next day he’s at Ramshackle, dangling upside-down. You almost became a Ramshackle ghost out of scare. He laughed when you screamed.

"Khee hee heee, Good morning, my dear!" he chirped. "You were quite the love drunk last night? I’m flattered, I must admit!"

You groaned, hiding your face. "Lilia, I’m so sorry. I was drunk-"

"Nonsense!" he interrupted, floating over to pat your head. "It was delightful. And not entirely unwelcome! Shall we explore this 'forever' you spoke of, hm?" His tone is teasing but the smile he gives you is warm, leaving you flustered but hopeful. Lilia wasn't going to push, though will tease you. But he is definitely intrigued and he will make sure you knew it.

[heirofnight]

it's the shadows, pt. 2

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 4.9k

summary: after a drunken night with your bffs rhys, cassian, and azriel - one where you'd admitted to thinking azriel would be the most capable in bed (and az admitted to using his shadows on his partners lol) - the inner circle takes a vacation to a secluded cabin in the woods. and azriel's main goal is to show you what his shadows can actually do in the bedroom. part two of it's the shadows.

warnings: this is smut ok. pure smut. p in v smut. shadow smut. read at your own risk, ok.

a/n: OK highly requested part 2 to this series. first time publishing smut, pls be nice. but let me know what you think!!! enjoy <3

read part one here

azriel had a deep, dark secret.

a tidbit of information that he'd tried his best to ignore for the first several years after initially meeting you. now, he was far passed the point of acting as though it didn't exist - like it didn't drive him insane.

how could he? when you looked at him like that, when you made him laugh like that, when you'd outwardly flirt with him like that, when you'd all but crawled into his lap in the sitting room after he'd admitted to utilizing his shadows in less than innocent ways.

no, azriel was truly fucked, and his dirty little secret was threatening to crawl its way up his throat and launch itself from his lips.

he wanted you, bad.

since that drunken night a couple of weeks ago, azriel's want need for you had multiplied, had split in half and quadrupled and was now flowing through his veins as if it were his own blood. his brain was foggy, he was distracted, and all he could think about was you: your voice, your smile, your laughter, your lips, your scent. gods, your scent.

he felt like a lost puppy, trailing after you as though you'd lead him to salvation.

that salvation just happened to be between your thighs.

he'd become more in tune with you, your daily routine. he somehow was now able to pick up on your lingering scent, even if you'd left your preoccupied space hours earlier. he'd known you were there. and he'd sought you out in every situation he could. he longed to be next to you. during breakfast, dinner. during any meeting rhysand held that involved the entire family. while you baked in the kitchen alongside nuala and cerridwen - he was there. glued to your side.

he'd wondered if you'd noticed. the two of you were close to begin with, so perhaps you hadn't picked up on his increased attachment. regardless, you didn't seem to mind.

he'd picked up on your heartbeat changing when he drew near, and one time, he'd made a risky move - grazing your knee under the dinner table with a firm, scarred hand. he'd definitely noticed the change in your scent then - the aroma of your sweet arousal enveloped him almost immediately. he'd had to excuse himself from the meal earlier than normal after that.

he'd almost lost his shit and devoured you on the dinner table in front of his entire family, instead.

so when rhysand had declared that the entire family would be taking a weekend vacation, azriel's heart had almost torn through his chest. he'd get to be even closer to you, in a secluded location, with uninterrupted proximity.

rhys had recently purchased a gorgeous cabin on the opposite side of the city - it was perched on a high hill within the forest, and boasted views of the snowy mountain ranges that stood proudly alongside velaris.

the term cabin was a stretch - while the vacation home was a wooden structure, immensely cozy, and had cabin-like interior design, it was definitely on the more luxurious side. which came to no surprise, since it was rhysand's purchase, and the male loved extravagant things.

regardless, it was perfect. and azriel couldn't wait to take advantage of this much-needed vacation - one that included you, and an opportunity to get you alone.

you were obviously interested, he knew that. you'd alluded to it for years. and after he let it slip that he often let his shadows loose while bedding his partners, you'd fought to reign in your composure.

what he didn't know, though, was whether or not you were interested in him. beyond a sexual escapade. beyond two friends who were attracted to each other acting on impulse. actually interested - in loving him, all of him, and allowing him to do the same.

because that was azriel's deep, dark secret: he was in too deep, was falling over himself for you.

however, if sex was all you wanted, azriel would comply. he'd have you in any way that you'd allow, and he'd be damned sure to worship you in ways that would leave you absolutely ruined.

you'd all arrived to the cabin as dusk was painting the sky in pinks and oranges. his family shuffled through the large wooden front doors, and azriel felt the tension and stress escaping from each of his friend's tightly-wound muscles as though they'd left the qualms of reality outside in the snow.

not azriel's, though. his pent-up tension could only be released in one way in particular.

you'd set your bags down in the threshold of the designated living space, your head on a swivel as you peered upward - taking in the surroundings of the opulent cabin.

"this is why i'm friends with you, rhys," you'd joked, pushing your hair over your shoulders, "the perks are just too spectacular to pass up," you laughed this breathy little laugh, and azriel felt his spine tingle at the sound.

rhys chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest as he regarded you, "careful, y/n," he tutted, his violet eyes watching cassian as he began to fumble with the large fireplace in the corner of the room, "before i use my other high lord perks to order you to sleep in a tent outside," he bantered, raising his eyebrows in silent challenge.

you placed a dainty hand to your chest in mock offense, shuffling closer to azriel for protection. "you would never," you balked, spine straightening, "az would never let that happen, right, az?," you turned towards the shadowsinger, giving him a look of pure innocence.

azriel faltered for a moment as he met your gaze, but he caught himself quickly. "right, sweet," he almost cooed, using that nickname that set your heart running at full-speed. he reached out to place a hand on your shoulder in solidarity, turning towards rhys. the high lord was watching you both with a look of pure, knowing amusement.

"well, lucky for you two lovebirds," rhys began, pointer finger gesturing to the snowy evening beyond the large glass windows, "the tent in question is big enough for two," he waggled his dark eyebrows, huffing out a laugh.

azriel's cheeks tinted only slightly at his words, his mind immediately overcome with visions of all the compromising positions the two of you could end up in. alone. in a tent.

before az could fully recover from that revelation, you'd stunned him with your next statement.

"perfect, i'm sure az and i would have no issues keeping each other warm," you mused, voice low and playfully suggestive. you wrapped your hand around his large bicep then, hmphing quietly to drive your point home.

rhys barked out a laugh at your words, shaking his head before retreating to help a grumbling cassian with the fireplace.

azriel felt warm. too warm for the snowy environment you'd found yourselves in. your words set an inferno blazing within his chest and limbs. his instincts screamed at him to carry you to the nearest bed and have his way with you, once and for all. but instead, he cleared his throat, looking down at you with pink cheeks and ears.

you looked up at him expectantly, a sweet grin splitting your cheeks.

he heard you mention something about going to find your rooms, and he dazedly watched you grab your belongings before sauntering up the stairs. but azriel was frozen in place as if cassian had superglued his boots to the wooden floor.

he would not survive this trip.

feyre and elain had provided dinner for all of you, and after taking your seats at the cozy dining table that looked over the snow-capped mountain range in the distance, you all began to eat. it was a peaceful, warm family dinner. everyone was so relaxed, so happy to be amongst the company of loved ones.

azriel had taken his usual place next to you, just as he always did. different environment, same habits. you'd smiled up at him as he took his seat, and he'd silently begun to fill your plate with food before worrying over his own.

you'd reached over as you realized what he was doing, placing a hand on his muscular thigh. "hey," you whispered affectionately, so only he could hear. "you don't have to do that," you smiled, meeting his gentle eyes with a sweet gaze of your own.

his skin was on fire at the contact you'd graced him with, and he gave you a small smirk.

"i want to," his deep, rough voice rasped. and you felt your stomach lurch at the tone.

and so, he served you. and you let him.

as dinner progressed, you'd found yourself absent-mindedly moving closer to azriel's side. at one point, you all giggled endlessly at an overly-animated cassian as he told a story from the past - and when you leaned into azriel in a fit of laughter, your head resting on his shoulder, he'd made a move. he'd wrapped his left arm around the back of your chair, around you. he'd pulled you further into his warm side. and then he'd reached down, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. you'd peered up at him then, eyes full of adoration.

he met your eyes, and although he couldn't see himself, he knew his honey gaze was reflecting the very same feeling.

his lips lowered then, whispering right against the shell of your ear, voice low, "which rooms did you choose?," he questioned, nodding his chin towards the floor above the both of you.

you smiled softly, whispering back, "the one right next to yours," he watched as your stare traveled between both of his eyes, down to his full lips, and back up to his steady gaze. his heart rammed against his ribs.

he reached over to your lap, rubbing a thumb along the back of your hand tenderly.

"just so you're aware, i always sleep with my door unlocked," he spoke against your ear once more, the statement laced with undertones you quickly picked up on.

you hummed against his cheek, pulling back to catch his eyes, "noted," you said pointedly, sending him a flirtatious wink through your long lashes.

he was sure, in that moment, that he needed you more than he needed his next breath of oxygen.

hours later, azriel was sprawled on top of his bedding, eyes cast towards the ceiling.

the entire house had since made their way to their own rooms, settling in for the evening, and he briefly glanced over to the large windows that made up the entire left wall of his space.

the onyx sky looked like velvet, and azriel lost himself for a moment as he stared out at the smattering of stars that looked as though they'd been placed with precise care throughout the heavens.

the sound of a door clicking shut, followed by slippered feet tiptoeing from the next room over, broke through his distracted thoughts.

he immediately tensed up - it was you. this was actually happening.

the doorknob began to twist, the sound so quiet, he had to focus his eyes on the fixture to make sure he wasn't imagining things.

slowly, the door creaked open, and there you stood: in a black lace, silky nightgown that hit the tops of your thighs, your hair unbound and cascading down your chest, and a matching robe haphazardly falling from your shoulders.

you looked ethereal.

azriel audibly swallowed, and he didn't even remember standing up and crossing the room in long strides, but when he blinked, you were standing right before him - all twinkling eyes and rosy cheeks.

you smirked up at him - you were so confident, so sure. he huffed out a small laugh, raking his eyes down your body in a way that was absolutely not subtle.

"well," you spoke quietly, cocking your head as you studied his expression curiously, "i have to say, azriel. it took you long enough," you scoffed playfully, stepping closer to him.

he hummed, placing scarred hands on your shoulders before slowly sliding them down your arms, your robe dropping to the floor as he did so.

"if you've been wanting this as badly as i have, why didn't you just tell me?," he whispered, voice sultry as his hands traveled down your skin.

you pursed your lips, standing on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck. it all felt so familiar, so normal. as if you'd both done this song and dance countless times before. the way the both of you intertwined and came together so effortlessly had azriel's head spinning.

finally, you spoke, "maybe i wanted to refrain long enough to see if you felt the same way," you considered, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, "maybe i wanted to make you work for it," your voice lowered, looking up at him from under your lashes.

azriel felt his knees threaten to buckle, and he closed his eyes before releasing a long, slow breath. he had to take his time with you, he refused to lose control this quickly.

but gods, you were making it hard.

and you knew it, too. you'd set your sights on breaking him down bit by bit, thrilled by the prospect of seeing cold, stoic azriel shadowsinger lose every bit of his composure at the hands of lust.

you preened, nipping and kitten-licking along his jaw so slowly, azriel began to feel dizzy.

"enough," he commanded, voice hoarse. he removed your hands from where they were hooked around his neck, holding your wrists together with one large hand.

"enough," he repeated, eyes darkening. "you've driven me absolutely insane for years, y/n," he spoke, voice made of gravel. "how amusing was it, hm?," he pushed you towards his bed slowly, each step punctuating his words, "to drive me mad the way you have, on purpose," he spat.

your knees hit the back of his mattress, and before you knew it, you were spread out on top of his soft sheets. you let out the tiniest whimper, a noise so obscene, azriel almost groaned out loud.

he sent a tendril of shadows darting towards your body, watching closely as they bound your hands together, resembling handcuffs made of smoke.

you grinned unabashedly at the sight, your eyes flicking from your hands and back up to his hardened gaze, "you really do use them, then," you stated, referring to the inky strands that were engulfing his body.

he looked like the angel of death coming to claim you.

he grinned at this, a sight that would be terrifying if it weren't so damned sexy.

"oh, sweet," he ground out, lowering himself over you so that his hands were braced on each side of your head, "you have no idea," his voice was low and full of carnal promise.

your breath hitched as his words, and you watched as he sent another tendril towards your throat. it wrapped around your neck effortlessly, much like it had that one drunken night several weeks ago. but this time, you knew the circumstances were different.

"i cannot wait to worship you," he drawled, eyes dragging down your lithe body. you could see the lust swirling within his gaze - his pupils were blown, his breathing was ragged.

you breathed out a moan of pure need, and his eyes snapped back up to your face. another shadow darted from his side, slowly working the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders. the same shadow pulled the silken garment down until your breasts were fully revealed to him - your nipples already painfully hard.

you needed him to touch you. somewhere, anywhere.

he let out a quiet grunt at the sight of you, reveling in you being laid bare for him.

"fuck," he grumbled, voice already hoarse with need.

leaning down, he wasted no time in sucking your left breast into his warm mouth, lavishing your nipple with licks, and sucks, and small bites. you began to writhe beneath him, and that's when azriel learned just how much you loved to have your nipples played with. breathy moans tumbled from your lips, and azriel almost lost his shit at the sound.

he began to slowly grind his still-clothed lower half against the edge of the mattress, low, erotic groans trickling up his throat and falling from his mouth as his tongue continued its ministrations. he'd glance up at you every now and then, and every time he caught the look on your face - mouth agape and eyes twisted shut in pleasure, he'd have to drag his aching cock even harder against the bed beneath him.

just when you thought it couldn't possibly get any better than his mouth against your aching breast, azriel upped the ante.

you'd felt another strand of shadow dart towards your right nipple, it's cool, ghosted touch swirling around the sensitive skin.

"oh, gods", you moaned, your hips beginning to buck and grind against his lower stomach. the scent of your arousal had overtaken his senses, and his eyes rolled back each time he inhaled greedily - he couldn't get enough. you were everything, everywhere.

the shadow continued to flick and dance across your right nipple, pinching and twirling around and around, back and forth. you'd tilted your head back, and you knew you could climax from this feeling alone if azriel kept it up for much longer.

"now, now, sweet," he abruptly pulled back from your chest, halting his actions. the other shadow that was swirling across your nipple had darted back to its master's side, too.

you whined quietly, jerking your head forward to meet his stare in utter disappointment.

"don't be a brat," he tutted, biting at your nipple once more in reprimand. you arched your chest to meet his mouth eagerly, and he grinned wickedly at the action, a devastating dimple peeking through as he did so.

"i said i was going to worship you, my love," his deep voice sounded like pure sex, "and i intend to do so," he pulled your nightgown completely down your legs as he spoke, discarding it to the floor.

he returned to hovering over you, tugging your lower lip into your mouth greedily. he hummed at the taste of you, before he began pressing kisses down your throat, your chest, your stomach, and down to your thighs.

you moaned quietly, spreading your legs open for him, giving him space to ravish you as he pleased.

but azriel had other plans.

he pulled his shirt off over his head, wasting no time in completely discarding his own clothing.

his thick cock sprung proudly from the confines of his pants, already leaking from the tip. your eyes darkened at the sight, and you felt your pupils dilate as he absentmindedly wrapped his large hand around his length, squeezing once to offer himself some relief.

he let out a groan from deep in his throat as he did so, and he couldn't stop himself from pumping his fist once, twice.

"i won't be able to hold myself back from you for much longer," he confessed, his voice strained.

"then don't," you whispered, the feeling of pure lust so strong, it almost made you tremble.

"i want to watch for awhile first," he grunted, eyes traveling over the length of your naked body before him. he granted himself one more rough stroke of his cock, large veins bulging along the shaft.

your eyebrows knitted together, head spinning.

"watch?," you asked, eyes glued to the hand he'd wrapped around himself.

he smirked knowingly, watching as a lone tendril of shadow darted from his side to between your legs.

you barely had time to react, barely had time to catch your breath before azriel's shadow began absolutely torturing you, in the best way possible.

it swirled between your legs, running along your clit in counterclockwise motions that felt so good, you couldn't control the sound that left your mouth in response.

your head was thrown back against the mattress once more, breathy moans growing louder as you felt it slide inside of you, fucking into you as it continued to tease your clit. its cool sensation against the heat of your center made your thighs shake uncontrollably.

you felt your hands slide towards your chest, needing to touch yourself, play with your nipples. you longed for azriel's mouth to return to your skin, missing the feeling of his warm tongue against you.

you heard azriel tsk from where he stood in front of you, practicing as much restraint as he could muster. he'd continued to tease himself every now and then, when he absolutely couldn't help himself. he'd grip his cock firmly, squeezing once. or he'd slide a hand down his shaft roughly, his hand slick from his own precum.

before you could open your eyes to see why azriel had reprimanded you, you'd felt the cool brush of shadows against your wrists once more. they'd bound your arms together, holding them above your head.

you whined, writhing as the shadow between your legs continued to drive you to the edge. and azriel stood, watching, eyes heavy and cock throbbing.

"az, i can't-", you moaned out, breathing ragged. "i'm going to cu-", you started, but were cut off.

"no, you aren't," he spoke, stepping closer to you, "because you aren't allowed to," he strained, voice cold and rough.

a moan tumbled from deep in your throat, and you finally looked up to find his eyes once more. he stood right next to the edge of the bed, watching the shadow between your legs with such intensity, it forced a shiver to wrack through you.

"look at you," he mused, voice taking on a softer tone, "i haven't even touched you yet, fucked you yet," he grunted, squeezing his cock once more. "you've already made such a mess," he drawled, awestruck.

"i can't wait to feel you," he met your eyes as he spoke, and you felt yourself careening straight for the edge you were warned to stay away from.

"az," you moaned, trying to clench your thighs shut, but his strong hand reached down to force them apart. "you have to make it stop, i can't-," you whined helplessly.

he abruptly called his shadow back to his side once more, and you cried out in frustration at the absence of touch where you needed it the most.

"come here, sweet," he commanded, voice gentle. you sat up slowly, the shadow he'd adorned your neck with tightening ever-so-slightly as you did. it made you dizzy, but you did as you were told.

"put the tip in your mouth," he demanded, pushing his throbbing cock in your direction.

you did as instructed, wrapping your lips around the leaking tip eagerly. you gazed up at him from under your eyelashes, and a groan from deep within his chest tumbled from his lips.

"lick," he strained out, grabbing a fistful of your hair, tugging your mouth back.

you slowly stuck your tongue out, making a show of swirling your tongue around the head of his cock. your eyes rolled back erotically at the taste of him, and you flicked the tip of your tongue against him several times - trying your best to push the male to the point of losing his restraint.

it worked. azriel snapped.

a primal growl left his throat and before you knew it, you were pushed backwards on the mattress once more. he grabbed your thighs greedily, shoving them apart before aligning himself with your soaked entrance.

"i can't control myself with you, y/n," he whispered into your neck, sucking harshly against the skin, "i won't be able to be gentle," he warned, biting at your shoulder so hard, you could have sworn he broke skin.

"then don't," you repeated your earlier words back to him.

"when i've fantasized about this," you added, wrapping your legs around his strong waist, "i cum the hardest when i think about you fucking me," you whispered against his ear, lighting the fuse inside him that would cause him to explode - just like you wanted.

"fuck," he groaned, his movements becoming urgent as he reached down to line himself up with you once more. "fuck fuck fuck," he rushed out, and then he thrusted into you with one hard movement.

you both moaned in tandem, the feeling of him stretching you out one of pure bliss. azriel had to rest his forehead against your shoulder to prevent himself from absolutely losing himself, losing control. his whole body tensed in restraint, his hips bucking involuntarily as he tried to give you a moment to get used to his size.

and fuck, was he huge. pain sluiced through you, and he stilled his movements once he was wholly inside of you. your pussy clenched around him once, and he huffed out a breath against your skin.

"don't do that," he grunted, grabbing a fistful of sheets from where he was braced above you.

you smirked, the pain finally giving way to soul-shattering pleasure. you clenched around him again, on purpose this time. "or what?", you whispered into his ear, challenging him.

he growled, pulling out of you completely before he thrusted all the way back in roughly.

"brat," he sneered, and then he was completely unwound, fucking into you with no control over his movements.

moans left your mouth with no abandon, no concern for who may hear you in the surrounding rooms. you panted, whined, pleaded.

you said his name in breathy moans that often made azriel have to stop for several seconds, or else he'd end up finishing way too soon.

"fuck, you are divine, sweet," he grunted against your lips, his forehead resting on yours.

you moaned into his mouth, biting at his bottom lip.

at one point, he'd flipped you onto all fours, drilling into you from behind. that shadow around your neck tightened, another shadow holding your arms and wrists behind your back. you felt the edges of your vision blur as your pleasure continued to reach new heights.

azriel was so close, so, so close. this position had made you impossibly tighter. he used every ounce of control he could muster to last as long as possible, the feeling of you wrapped around him was euphoric. every single fantasy he'd had about you had never come close to this.

as he felt himself drawing nearer to that edge of no return, he pulled out of you momentarily. you groaned at the feeling of being empty, but he'd only smirked and lightly slapped your ass in response.

he sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling you onto his lap gently. you straddled him, and as you lowered yourself down, you took every inch of him with newfound ease - as if you were made to take his cock.

he grunted, watching himself disappear inside of you with blown out pupils. his skin was slick, his curls stuck to his forehead. he looked delicious, you couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

"you feel so fucking good, az," you said on a breath. a moan left your lips as you lifted yourself up slightly, just to slam back down against his lap.

he grabbed your hips, taking your nipple into his mouth greedily. "keep saying shit like that, y/n, and i'm going to fall in love with you," he mused, grinding his hips against yours.

you moaned out his name, grinding your own hips down to meet his.

"oh yeah?," you urged, grabbing his shoulders as you began to ride him - swirling your hips as you bounced. "in that case, you look so, so pretty, az," you hummed, sucking onto his bottom lip, "so pretty when you fuck me," you nuzzled your nose against his, jutting your hips against his for emphasis. you reached up, daring to touch the top left corner of his flared wing, right in that spot that you knew would drive him wild.

azriel dug his hands into your hips, bucking wildly as he took over, fucking up into you from where he sat. he was always a sucker for praise, you knew that. and now, you were weaponizing it.

"fucking gods," he growled, his shadows encompassing you as they swirled through your hair, across your nipples, down your back and arms. the added sensation had you throwing your head back, meeting each rough thrust of his with your own.

your moans became almost constant, and he felt you growing even tighter around him as he became relentless with his movements. it was rough, his movements stuttering.

"let go for me, my love," he murmured, pressing kisses into every bit of skin he could reach. "i need to feel you," he urged, breathing ragged.

you nodded in response, pressing your forehead against his.

"my pretty y/n," he praised, licking your bottom lip messily.

and shortly after, you were coming undone around him, letting out a cry of his name that absolutely was heard by every member of the house.

azriel spilled into you, finally letting himself come completely unwound whenever he felt you pulsing around him. it seemed to never end, and he let out breathy whines and grunts as he rode his high, his cum leaking from between your legs in the most vulgar way.

you fell against him, the both of you breathing heavy. he wrapped his arms around you, then his wings, feeling so content and satisfied and whole.

and he was sure that he'd actually fallen in love with you.

"shit," you finally breathed out, completely exhausted.

"i knew you were the best in bed," you huffed out a laugh, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

azriel laughed, running a hand down the back of your hair affectionately.

"only for you," he whispered, kissing the side of your neck.

a/n: ok so. i need a cold shower after this. pls let me know what you think, i'm half asleep and have never published smut. for all of you that wanted a part 2, i hope you liked it! i'm nervous. ok love u <3

[dorealis]

Series Title: Pound of Flesh

<-pt.1 pt.2 pt.3->

Summary: Simon has always wanted something soft to call his. The problem is that he's always had issues with women. When he stumbles across a dark website that traffics people, he knows he should tell someone. But that thought goes out the window when he sees her.

Content Warning: non-con. Reader is a trafficking victim. Stockholm Syndrome. Simon is not a good man here.

Simon is almost certain that his Lovie hates him. She cries a lot and shies away from him. She won't look at him, and she has picked up the habit of screaming bloody murder when he touches her. He knows it must be scary being ripped away from everything and everyone that she knows. He chalks it up to it being a symptom of homesickness. Maybe she's just scared and her feelings are too big for her.

No matter. He can relate. He too has been a victim of feelings that are too big for his own body. He wants her to want to be near him. Wants her to seek him out on her own. So he turns the heat completely off in his home. He's been in freezing temperatures before, dealt with frost bite, shivering bones and harsh angles since his childhood. When he breathes, nothing but frost expells from his lungs. He's always known cold, ice even, and is comfortable with the numbness that accompanies it.

His Lovie, unfortunately, is not acclimated to such harshness.

She's shivering and the thin and short tee-shirt he gave her only stops just below her chest. Arms wrapped around herself, trying to self soothe or keep warm. He thinks it's cute, precious how she rocks back and forth. He has her perched on the couch, and he sits down next to her, legs spread out so that his thigh touches hers. The flinch she gives off melts into another shiver.

"Simon...I'm cold." Her teeth chatters on her words. Those sweet and dangerously attractive doe eyes get turned to him. "Can I at least put on pants?"

"Did you earn the privilege of pants?" He says to her. "You've been on your worst behavior all day."

She doesn't say anything and just rubs her arms. Tears, his second favorite part of her, spring into her eyes. He loves when she cries, it does something to him. The sight stirs the blood in him and makes his cock hard and already he can feel himself chubbing at the sheer thought of tasting her tears. He prompts her to answer with a raised brow.

"No sir...I haven't." She whimpers.

"What are you willing to do to earn your warmth?"

Her eyes widen in shock. Body trembles as she forces out her next question, "I don't understand."

He chuckles and pulls her into his lap, another thing he likes to do. He enjoys just moving his Lovie whenever he wants, however he wants. She naturally fights him and stills like a deer in headlights when she feels his cock pressed against her. He watches her breathing pick up, her chest heaving hard, on the verge of panic.

"You're such a little dummy." He kisses her temple and the grips the back of her neck. "It's okay, I normally hate having to explain things, I do that all day at work." He nips at her earlobe and she draws in a sharp gasp, she squirms. "You just have to be trained is all. The more you love on me, the more I will give you."

She stares into his eyes, horror etched on to her face. She's weighing her options, he can see it in how she shifts her eyes away from him. "You- you promise?" Such a small and sweet voice. Everything about her sweet and he could eat her alive. Swallow her whole, crack her bones wide open and drink the marrow. Consume her, devour her, infuse her soul into his.

She doesn't know it but yet, but he is utterly enchanted by her. In love with her since the day he saw her photo on that site. Enamored by the way the camera had caught her in just the right light, her hair a halo on her head, smile brighter than the sun itself. When he reached out about her that night in the world's most shadiest chat room, he was given a price and asked if he wanted her delivered or if he wanted her corralled for him to hunt. He obviously chose to hunt her, all he had to do was give the preferred venue and everything would be set into motion.

"Will I get to have pants and a blanket?" She asked him, pulling him from his thoughts, "I'm cold."

"This isn't a two for one sale Lovie." He glances down at her chest and see her nipples are hard and poking through the fabric.

Lovie takes a deep breath and she places her soft hands on his cheeks. She's crying again, but it's not the hysterical crying, it's the adorable silent type. With a lick to her lips, she leans in, eyes sliding shut and presses her lips to his. It's the first kiss she initiates, and it makes Simon's heart skip a beat. The kiss is gentle and a bit clumsy, and he loves it. His hands drift down to her hips and gives them a squeeze in encouragement.

But it's not enough. The sick monster in him is growling. Maw opening in a twisted stretch, itching to snatch more than what his sweet Lovie is giving him. He holds back though and tries his best to kiss her back in the same fashion. He isn't sweet, he's more like vinegar that's soured, and he's surprised that she hasn't jumped back in disgust. All too soon she pulls away and looks pleading.

"What does that get me?"

He smiles, "It gets you shorts."

She closes her eyes and slowly trails her hands down the plains of his chest towards the drawstrings of his sweats. He watches the fine tremble of her hands. His Lovie is so shy, meek, it's a wonder she lasted so long in life without him.

"Your mouth gets you pants. Cunt will get you a blanket. So both and you get both. Your ass gets the heat turned back on for the night." He explains as she pulls his cock out and holds it. There's already pre-cum pearling at the tip and he's enjoying how he feels in a hand that has never known hardship. "Well Lovie?"

She slips off of him, settling between his legs, and moves to place her lips on the red and rudy tip of his cock. He grips her jaw though and gives her stern look, "You bite and I break your jaw." He smiles sweetly at her but it comes off menacing.

Lovie nods once and kisses the tip before sliding her mouth onto him. He knows it must be uncomfortable for her jaw, the stretch too much. But the inside of her mouth is warm and wet, almost as good as her cunt. He sighs and places his hand on top of her head and encourages her to take more into her mouth. She does her best, the soft sound of her choking makes him groan.

"You're okay Lovie, you're doing fine." He restrains himself from fucking up into her mouth. He imagines breaching her throat and feeling her panic and jerk trying to breathe. Sucking in a sharp breath, he relaxes as her hand squeezes the base of his cock lightly. It makes him shiver in anticipation.

Lovie pulls back and plunges herself down again and he helps along, finding a rhythm that he likes and that she can maintain. Watching his love, his girl pleasure him through lidded eyes almost makes him blush. The way she sucks and her cheeks pucker up on each pull, makes him twitch. Her spit begins to drip out of the corners of her mouth and it's a bit messy and he likes it. Without warning he bucks his hip and she gags trying to pull away.

"Look at me sweetie." He rasps. He wants to see her eyes, and Jesus fuck. With the angle she looks up at him, the dried tear tracks on her face and her still watery eyes, he loses his patience. She yelps when he grips her hair tightly and yanks her off. He's on his feet and shoving his cock harshly back into her mouth. Panicked hands swat at his thighs as he forces all of him down her throat. It's just as he though it would be.

Tight. Warm. Euphoric.

He fucks her mouth like it's her cunt. Suffocating her when his wiry hairs meet with her nose. She's crying again, fat crocodile tears streaming down her cheeks. When she clamps her eyes shut, he jostled her head.

"Eyes open, look at me." He pants out. She complies and it's everything he didn't know he needed. "Fuck, good Lovie, good girl."

There's vibration in the back of her throat from the muffled crying. The tip of his cock feels it and that sensation zips and zaps up his spine. It's going to Pavlov him into getting hard whenever she cries and it's really her fault. It will be her fault when every little thing she does makes him insatiable.

But it'll be a feedback loop.

He'll train her, her mind, and her body, to crave him just as much. Every little need she has, will be linked intrinsically to him. She wants to be warm? She will look for him for warmth. She wants a little bit of comfort? Her first instinct will be to present herself to him like a bitch in heat. She wants something that he considers to be a luxury and a privilege? She will be wet and dripping at the thought of doing whatever to have it.

Simon can't wait, and he knows he's going right to hell for this, but he's ecstatic for when she wants comfort and love. When she wants that she will seek him out.

Lovie gags and whimpers as he pistons out of her mouth. His pace is feverish as he squints down at her through his lust induced haze. She looks like an absolute doll like this. Her slaps against his thighs have lessened and she grips onto the fabric of his sweats tightly. Desperate to hold on, and the sound of her struggling to breath even through her nose is too precious. He has her very being in his hands and it makes his need for control thrum wit satisfaction.

"Oh Lovie, my sweet Lovie, youre too sweet to me." He grunts and shoves his cock impossibly far down her throat. She won't taste his cum this way but he doesn't mind. There will be other times for her to savor the taste of him, to memorize it. He feels her throat and body tensing as he cums. The pure idea of all of his spend collecting in her stomach makes him twitch. He grinds his hips into her face, basking in the aftershocks of his orgasm.

He guides her mouth off of him carefully. She coughs and breathes deeply, trying to get as much air into her lungs as possible. She sniffles and stares up at him, the look is pure heaven. She seems as if she's ashamed of her actions. He can't let her feel that way.

"Oh Lovie, you sweet sweet thing." He wipes some of the drool from her lip. "You did such a good job."

Her voice is raw, "Can I have my pants now?"

"Sure Lovie." He said as he put himself away, his mind already thinking about what elese he withhold from her. He takes off his sweats and offers them to her. She tries not to scrunch her face up in disgust, but she takes them.

"Thank you." She ties the drawstrings tightly.

"Oh my lil' Lovie. I'll always give you the clothes off my back. You need only ask."

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt. 6

Word Count: 15.k...(oops)

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, dubcon, vaginal sex, creampie, breeding, comfort sex, cunnilingus, overstimulation if you squint, mentions of murder, nightmares, manipulation, pet names like, kitten, sweetie, honey, tw for panic attacks, rape flashbacks, xavier appears

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti , @m0onlustre , @ve1vet-cake, @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglmela @connorsui, @iluvmewwwww75, @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer, @mysssticc, @babygirl-panda19, @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1, @honnylemontea, @altariasu, @the-slytherin-poet, @sorryimakira, @pearlymel, @emidpsandia , @angel-jupiter, @hwangintakswifey,

AN: Hi everyone! This is also on A03! Please someone stop me, how the hell did I manage to squeeze in like 4k extra words than last time??? Anyways, enjoy the meal, I definitely have missed writing smut with yan!sylus and reader :3. Also a gentle reminder that reader has no specific skin tone! I just use images that I think represent the chapter well, you can imagine her however you’d like ^^

"I'll make it all disappear," Sylus murmured, his voice low and hypnotic, penetrating the darkest recesses of your fractured psyche. It was as if he possessed the power to reach inside your mind and vaporize the painful memories that clung to you like shackles. "You want to feel so good you won't think about him again?"

Read Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt. 5 Pt.7

The car roars down the empty road, its tires devouring the distance between freedom and your inevitable return to captivity. Luke sits at the wheel, his face completely hidden behind the bird shaped mask. You can’t see his eyes, can’t gauge anything from the way he’s holding himself—just the silent, unyielding presence of the man steering you back to your prison.

You wonder how he sees out of that thing.

Kieran sits beside him, his mask just the same, his fingers tapping a light, almost carefree rhythm on the dashboard as he finishes humming a cheery tune. His face, too, is entirely concealed, leaving you with nothing to hold onto—no eyes to search for clues, no expressions to read.

In the rearview mirror, you sense Kieran shift his head to look at you but can't entirely tell, his hidden gaze offers you nothing. The silence stretches on, broken only by the low hum of the engine and the steady, deliberate breaths of Sylus against your neck, the heat of his body keeping you trapped in more ways than one.

Sylus holds you tight, as if the moment he loosens his grip, you’ll dissolve into the darkness beyond the windows. His large hands are splayed possessively across your thighs, pinning you in place on his lap. Each minute that ticks by in this confined space feels like a countdown to something you can’t define, but the feeling of impending dread settles deep in your bones.

Your mind is a storm, thoughts swirling in an endless, chaotic loop. The gunshot that ended Reese’s life thunders in your head, over and over, refusing to let you go. You can still see it so clearly—the way his body slumped to the floor, lifeless, his eyes wide with the shock of it all.

It feels like it’s eating you alive.

This is your fault.

Yes, Reese was a monster. He’d kidnapped you, lied to you, dragged you into a nightmare you never deserved. But even now, that part of you—the part that still clung to honor, to a sense of right and wrong, the part of an honorable deep space hunter—hated what had happened. You hated yourself for it. He should have been locked away, brought to justice, not gunned down like that.

Your chest tightens. Why didn’t you stop it? You could have, couldn’t you? You didn’t have to let your anger take over, didn’t have to spit those words at him, didn't have to tell him to go to hell. If you hadn’t done that, Sylus wouldn’t have killed him right? The weight of it presses down on you, like you’re suffocating under the guilt.

You can feel it in your bones—the sharp sting of your failure, the way you let your emotions run wild. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You weren’t supposed to be the reason a person died, no matter how twisted or evil they were. You were supposed to be better than that.

But you weren’t.

And now Reese’s blood is on your hands.

The guilt coils tighter around your chest. You can almost taste the bitterness of it on your tongue, a relentless reminder of how you failed. Maybe if you had just kept your mouth shut. Maybe if you had found some way, any way, to de-escalate the situation, he’d still be alive. You wouldn't have to carry the weight of his death.

But you didn’t. And now it’s too late.

This is your fault.

You feel tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes, but you quickly suck in a breath, forcing them back. You can’t let them fall—not here, not now. You can’t let Sylus see the storm raging inside you. If he sees you faltering, sees your weakness, he’ll think he’s won.

You sense his eyes on you, watching, studying, but thankfully, he says nothing. His grip around you tightens slightly, as if he’s aware of the cracks forming in your resolve, but for once, he stays silent, leaving you alone with the war you’re fighting within yourself.

Instead of crying, you shift, turning your head to focus on the window. The dark tint makes it difficult to see clearly, but not impossible. You can just make out the blurred outlines of buildings as they whip past, vague shadows in the distance.

How much longer would this take? How far had you come?

You think back to the agonizing walk that had led you to the convenience store—the endless hours of trudging through unfamiliar streets, hoping for an escape. Time had lost all meaning then, just like it had now.

Lost in your thoughts, you feel your body betraying you, your exhaustion creeping in. You start to drift off against your will, feeling the heaviness pulling at your eyelids as you sink further into Sylus’s lap. You fight it, not wanting to rest your head on his chest, fearing what you might wake up to. But it’s been days since you’ve had proper rest, and the pull of sleep is relentless.

Minutes stretch into eternity, and despite your best efforts, your body begins to give in. You’re teetering on the edge of unconsciousness when suddenly, Sylus’s gruff voice cuts through the silence, startling you awake.

“Luke, tell the chefs to have dinner ready in an hour. Kieran, cancel my meeting with the general.”

Luke and Kieran both nod silently, their masked faces giving nothing away, and just as you’re trying to make sense of the words, the car abruptly comes to a stop.

“Yes, boss!” the twins respond with a clipped tones, as if this exchange is routine.

Everything happens so quickly. The moment the car parks, Luke and Kieran scramble out of their seats with swift, practiced efficiency. The sound of the doors opening and shutting echoes in the quiet night. Sylus shifts beneath you, opening his door, and you awkwardly slide off his lap, trying to maintain some semblance of balance as he exits the vehicle. You watch through strained, weary eyes as he steps out, his figure towering over the open car door. Then, he stretches out his hand toward you.

You hesitate.

The gesture, though outwardly polite, is anything but friendly. It’s not an offer—it’s a command, an unspoken reminder of your captivity. The world seems to close in around you, the air growing thicker, and your heart begins to pound in your chest. Your mind races, but there’s nowhere to run.

“If you’re thinking about driving off,” Sylus says with a low chuckle, leaning down to peer into the car, “Luke’s already got the keys, kitten.”

You can’t help but shoot him a sharp glare. You’d thought about running, yes, but not now—not when escape was utterly impossible. The moment passes quickly, and you open your mouth, wanting to explain yourself, to insist you weren’t planning anything. But the words stick in your throat, useless.

Instead, you shut your mouth, swallowing your frustration, and glare at him in defiance. Wordlessly, you reach out and take his hand. His grip is firm, possessive, as he helps you out of the car. Carefully, you step onto the ground, your heart still racing, knowing you’re walking back into your cage.

You glance around as Sylus pulls you forward, your hand still trapped in his. The sight of the mansion looms ahead, its grand, imposing silhouette becoming clearer with each step. Tall iron gates and bird statues loom in front of you, a place that might have been beautiful if it weren’t for the dread curling deep in your chest.

The mansion is more than just a building; it’s a cage, one that now feels even more suffocating as Sylus forces you to walk beside him, hand in hand like you’re something precious. But you know better. This is control, a quiet but undeniable display of power.

With each step toward the front door, the walls of the world seem to close in tighter, and your heart races faster. The echoes of your own footsteps blend with the eerie silence of the night, the only sound that reminds you how very trapped you are in this place—never truly alone, but never free either.

As you walk toward the towering front doors, your eyes drift upward, almost unconsciously, to Sylus. His appearance has always been striking—red eyes that seem to glow with a mix of malice and amusement, and white hair with subtle gray undertones, catching the faint light of the mansion. His angular features, so sharp and perfectly controlled, show signs of wear now. You can see the tension in his brow, the tiredness in the slight creases around his eyes—things you hadn’t noticed before. It makes you wonder how much stress your escape had caused him. How much had he sacrificed in the time you were gone? Had he been frantic, furious?

As if sensing your gaze, Sylus turns his head slightly, catching you in the act of studying him. A smirk plays across his lips, and his crimson eyes flicker with amusement. "What’s the matter? Falling in love?" His voice is a low drawl, teasing, but there’s something predatory in it—like he’s already enjoying this little game.

Heat rises to your face, a mixture of irritation and something else you refuse to name. You look away quickly, forcing yourself to focus on anything but him. His taunts are the last thing you want to entertain, especially when your mind is still spinning with the weight of what lies ahead. Still, the words linger, taunting you as much as his smirk did.

Finally, the massive front doors loom before you, framed by the same wrought iron and heavy stone that always made the mansion feel more like a fortress. Sylus stops, standing tall beside you, his hand still gripping yours as if to remind you that escape, or even defiance, is out of the question.

He gestures toward a small panel embedded into the wall near the door. "Lean down," he orders, the edge of his voice soft yet commanding, "in front of the scanner."

Confused, you glance between him and the scanner, unsure of what he’s planning. You hesitate, but his unblinking red gaze locks onto you, expectant, leaving you little choice. Slowly, you lean forward, lowering yourself until your eyes are aligned with the scanner. A soft beep fills the air, followed by a click as the door unlocks.

You straighten, startled, staring at the door in disbelief. "Wait," you stammer, turning to Sylus. "Aren’t you trying to prevent me from escaping?"

A deep, rumbling laugh escapes him, and he shakes his head, the white strands of his hair shifting slightly as he leans in closer, his red eyes flashing with amusement. "Your eyes," he says with a grin, "can only get you into this place." He leans in further, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Not out."

His words settle heavily in your chest, and a knot of dread tightens in your stomach. Your eyes—the very thing that could open doors here—were also the key to locking you in. Any hope you might have had, any fleeting thought of escape, is crushed in that moment. The world seems to warp, the walls of the mansion now looming around you like a trap. A cage disguised as opulence.

Why had he even bothered with something like that? The thought gnaws at you as you stand at the threshold of the mansion. Did he seriously think you would ever want to come back inside? The idea seems absurd. You were his captive, forced into this nightmare. There was no version of this where you willingly returned.

But as you glance back at him, his smirk still lingering on his face, you wonder if that’s exactly what he wants. He’s a man who thrives on control, on bending people to his will, and the thought that he might relish the idea of making you come back to this place, on your own terms, sends a shiver down your spine. Would he leave you out there in that desolate city, waiting, desperate, only to watch you break down and crawl back inside? The idea feels like a twisted game only he could design—where escape was impossible not just because of physical barriers, but because he'd burrowed deep into your mind.

You shake your head, trying to push the thought away, but the question lingers, settling like a weight in your chest. Did he think that, over time, you’d surrender? That this grand mansion, this cage, would eventually become a place you’d walk into willingly?

Sylus catches your hesitation, his red eyes glinting in the low light. “Strange, isn’t it?” he muses, his voice smooth and casual, as if he could read the questions racing through your mind. “A key that only lets you in. But maybe someday…you'll want to use it.”

His words hang in the air, and you can feel your pulse quicken, anger mixing with the uncertainty swirling inside you. He can’t seriously believe that, can he? That one day you’d walk back into this place of your own accord?

The very thought of it makes your stomach turn. You can’t imagine a future where you wouldn’t fight tooth and nail to stay away from here. Yet, there’s an unsettling confidence in the way he says it, a certainty that leaves you with more questions than answers.

“As if I would ever, prick,” you spat, your voice sharp and defiant.

Sylus laughs, his amusement rolling off him in deep waves, rich and unhurried. His red eyes gleam, locking onto yours with a look that holds something deeper than mere satisfaction. There’s affection there—twisted, yes, but genuine.

“Ah, there she is,” he murmurs, his grin widening. “I was starting to wonder if the N109 Zone had fully broken you.” His grip tightens, not painfully, but firm and reassuring, as he leads you into the grand mansion. To him, this was always meant to be your home, even if you couldn't see it yet.

You grimace at his words, irritation bubbling up inside you, making your heart race. This was still a game to him—a challenge, but not one born of cruelty. No, he found your defiance amusing, like a kitten batting at the hand that feeds it. He loved it, even.

You silently curse him under your breath as he leads you deeper into the grand house, your feet moving mechanically while your mind fights to keep up. The familiar sights come back into view, flooding your senses like a slow wave of nausea. The glossy black tile beneath your feet, the dark, lavish décor that loomed from every corner—it was all the same, just as cold and suffocating as you remembered.

Your eyes flick to the kitchen entryway, a place that had once offered a glimmer of hope, a chance to escape. You remember fleeing into it, heart racing, desperate to get away from all of this, only to be dragged back into Sylus’s grip. The memory gnaws at you, bringing a fresh wave of bitterness.

It makes you sick.

Every inch of this place, every dark aesthetic, seemed designed to remind you of your captivity. This was a cage, no matter how opulent or luxurious it appeared on the surface. And the worst part was the weight of his hand around yours—the possessiveness of his grip, the unspoken reminder that escape, no matter how hard you tried, was out of reach right now.

Sylus gently guides you toward the stairs, his grip still firm, giving you no room to hesitate. You feel your heart pounding in your chest as your feet start moving up the dark, winding staircase. Every step feels heavier than the last, your pulse thrumming in your ears as memories flood back—memories of when you had fled, heart racing, legs burning, desperate to escape this place. You’d made it down these very stairs once before, only to have freedom ripped away from you.

Now, you were being forced back up, step by agonizing step, into the room you had fought so hard to leave behind.

With every step upward, your resolve starts to crumble. The closer you get to that door, the more you feel the weight of your captivity settling in again, suffocating you. The darkened hallways, the oppressive silence—it all presses down on you, reminding you that no matter how much you fight, this is where you’ll always end up. Trapped.

You hesitate when you finally reach the door to the bedroom. The sight of it makes your stomach twist, your feet glued to the floor as a wave of dread washes over you. Everything in your body screams not to go inside, not to let yourself be locked in that room again. To run, to fight.

But Sylus is right behind you, close enough that you can feel his presence, his breath warm and steady, almost unnervingly calm. His grip on your hand softens, his thumb tracing a slow circle against your skin, as if to soothe your frayed nerves. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice gentle but laced with that unsettling authority. “Go on, sweetie.”

The way he says it is almost tender, but it only deepens the knot of anxiety in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s real kindness or just another layer of control. That soft, coaxing tone… it unnerves you more than his laughter, more than his taunts.

Despite every fiber of your being wanting to resist, you find yourself moving, stepping forward under the weight of his quiet insistence. You cross the threshold into the room, your body betraying you even as your mind screams to stop. The door clicks shut behind you with an almost imperceptible finality, and just like that, the familiar four dark walls of your prison close in around you once more.

You fight back the tears burning at the edges of your eyes as you step further into the room. The familiar surroundings feel like a punch to the gut—the large, imposing bed where Sylus had forced himself on you many many times, leaving behind scars you hadn’t realized had cut so deep. The leather couch in the center of the room, cold and impersonal, where you’d sat, waiting for the next wave of control to sweep over your life.

It’s too much.

For a moment, your knees threaten to buckle beneath you, the weight of it all pressing down with crushing force. The memories—dark, suffocating—swirl around you, making it hard to breathe. You almost crumble right there, unable to withstand the flood of emotions, of trauma that suddenly feels too close to the surface.

But before you can collapse, Sylus is there, his hand wrapping around your arm, guiding you away from the room and into the bathroom. His touch is firm but oddly gentle, a contrast that makes you even more uneasy. He’s pulling you toward the tiled space, and your mind races, trying to understand what’s happening as he begins to carefully, methodically, lift up your shirt to undress you.

“No,” you whisper, your voice trembling, barely audible over the sound of your own racing heartbeat. Your body goes stiff, your hands gripping the fabric of your shirt as if holding onto it could somehow protect you. “No,” you repeat, a little louder this time, your voice shaky and uneven. The tremors wrack your body, panic rising in your chest.

Sylus looks at you with something akin to worry, his touch slowing, but not stopping. He doesn’t force you, but his actions continue with a sense of inevitability, as though he believes this is just part of taking care of you, of ensuring you’re where you belong.

"I'm not going to do anything to you now, you just need a shower, sweetie."

But your mind is somewhere else entirely.

Flashes of memory assault you—dim lights, the scent of damp stone, and the overpowering fear of when you were in that basement. The man who had tried to force himself on you, who had pressed you against the bed with a hunger that still made your skin crawl. Your breath hitches as you remember his hands, his twisted smile. The terror, the helplessness—it's all too real, crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

You hadn’t realized just how deeply the trauma had sunk into you. Not until this moment, with Sylus standing in front of you, touching your clothes, his touch too familiar, too close to the horror you’d endured. You had been holding your emotions back but you couldn't now.

You flinch, your body recoiling instinctively as the memories close in around you. Your voice cracks, barely holding back the sob building in your throat. “Please…don’t.”

Sylus’s hands pause, and for the first time that entire day, you see it,—hesitation flickering across his sharp features. His red eyes, usually so calculating and cold, soften just enough for you to notice. His grip loosens, his fingers no longer working to take off your clothes but instead resting lightly on your shoulders, as if afraid of causing more harm.

“Be still,” he says again, his voice quiet and strangely tender. “I’m just trying to help you.”

But his words barely register. The panic has already set in, tightening around your chest like a vice. Your breathing grows shallow, quick—too quick. Your thoughts scatter, your heartbeat hammering so hard it feels like your ribcage might shatter under the pressure. The room spins around you, and suddenly you’re not here anymore. You’re back in the basement, cold stone beneath your feet, that man’s hands on your skin, forcing you against the wall. Forcing you on the bed.

You gasp for air, but each breath comes in ragged, uneven bursts. Your vision blurs, and your knees wobble beneath you. It’s happening all over again. The helplessness, the terror. It’s like your body has been pulled back into that moment, and no matter how much you try to claw your way out, you can’t.

Sylus moves swiftly, pulling you into his arms before you can collapse. His embrace is strong and grounding, his chest solid against your trembling form. “Breathe, sweetie” he whispers, his voice low, soothing, as if trying to coax you back from the edge of your panic. His hand rubs slow circles on your back, the gentle rhythm fighting against the chaos inside you. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

But you can’t. The air won’t come. Your breaths are sharp and shallow, your body on the verge of shutting down as you feel the world slipping away. You struggle, pushing weakly at him, but his arms only tighten around you, holding you firmly in place, anchoring you.

“Shhh, shhh…” His voice drops even lower, soft and almost tender. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe.”

The warmth of his body presses against yours, his presence somehow steadying the storm inside you. You eventually cling to him, not because you want to, but because it’s the only thing that keeps you from spiraling into complete panic. His hand continues to stroke your back in slow, measured motions, and though your heart still pounds in your chest, his touch starts to break through the suffocating fog.

“I’ll turn around, okay?” he says gently, as if sensing the root of your fear. “You can undress yourself. I won’t watch.”

There’s something in his tone—something that feels honest, reassuring, like he’s not just saying the words to control you but because he wants you to feel safe. You weakly nod, barely, but he catches it. He loosens his grip and takes a slow step back, raising his hands in surrender, his red eyes locked onto yours.

“I’ll give you some time. You don’t have to rush.”

With a careful turn, he faces away from you, his broad back filling the room but no longer imposing. His actions aren’t threatening; they’re deliberate, giving you the space he knows you need.

Your breathing slows and you blink back tears, but your body still trembles. You wipe the remaining tears from your eyes with a shaky hand, glancing around the bathroom as the panic begins to ebb. And then you notice it—something is different.

The bathtub is gone.

It had been there before, you remember. A large, ornate tub that had taken up the corner of the bathroom, a symbol of something luxurious in this prison of yours. But now, it’s nowhere to be seen. Your brows knit together in confusion as you stare at the empty space.

“Where’s the tub?” you ask, your voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Sylus doesn’t turn around, but his response is quick and calm, as if he expected the question. “I had it removed,” he says softly, his voice strangely careful, almost cautious. “I didn’t want you to drown yourself again.”

The words hit you like a slap, sharp and unexpected. You freeze, your heart skipping a beat as the weight of what he’s saying sinks in. He thought…no, he knew. He knew how deep the darkness inside you could go, how close you’d come to actually dying. He’d taken precautions—not just to keep you here, but to keep you alive.

You stand there, frozen, staring at the empty space where the bathtub used to be, and the reality sinks in—there’s truly no escape. Not from this place, not from Sylus, and not from the relentless grip of your own mind. He’s stripped you of every option, every avenue, until there’s nothing left but this.

Nothing left but him.

The exhaustion presses down on you, heavier than ever before. With slow, mechanical movements, you step into the shower, your limbs feeling distant, as if they don’t belong to you anymore. The warm water hits your skin, but it does nothing to ease the weight in your chest. You close your eyes, hoping that the steady stream of water can drown out the chaos inside your head—the panic, the hopelessness, the memories.

But they cling to you, stubborn and unyielding.

Images flash behind your closed eyelids—memories of that basement, the cold stone walls pressing in, the terror that gripped you when the man came too close, his hands reaching, his breath sour. You press your hands against the tiled wall, your body shaking as you fight the memories back, but they keep coming, like waves crashing over you, dragging you under.

And then there’s Reese.

You can’t stop seeing it—the moment his body hit the floor, the sound of the fatal gunshot echoing in your mind like a haunting refrain. His face, twisted in shock and pain. Your fault. The words circle in your mind like a dark mantra, mixing with the trauma of that basement. It’s all tangled together, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t make it stop.

"Go to hell, Reese."

The water cascades down your back, but it doesn’t wash away the guilt. It doesn’t drown out the horror. The images of blood and brain matter sliding down concrete walls.

You press your forehead against the cold tile, letting the water soak through your hair as you fight the rising tide of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. You want to believe that there’s a way out, some form of freedom—maybe not from this mansion, but at least from the grip of your own mind. But right now, standing under the relentless stream of water, you know that freedom is further away than ever.

No matter how much you fight it, you’re trapped. Inside this house. Inside yourself.

And the worst part? Sylus knows it.

You feel the tears begin to well up, hot and uncontainable, spilling over before you even realize you’ve let them go. They mix with the water, disappearing beneath the steady stream of the shower, unseen, unclaimed by anyone but you. For the first time in what feels like forever, no one is watching. Not even Sylus.

You let the sobs come quietly, your body trembling as the tears fall, merging with the warm cascade. It’s a strange relief, knowing that in this moment, he isn’t witnessing your breaking point. Sylus had made it clear—your pain, your misery, your tears, they all belonged to him.

But right now, this moment is yours.

As the tears fall silently, you press your forehead against the cool tile, letting yourself cry in a way you hadn’t allowed before. The sobs are shaky, barely audible over the sound of the water, but they are real, raw, and they are yours alone. The stream washes them away before they have the chance to leave a trace, like they never existed at all.

Even as your heart aches and the trauma still weighs you down, there’s a strange comfort in the tears that go unnoticed. For just these few minutes, you aren’t his broken thing to fix or keep. You’re just a person, trying to survive, trying to breathe.

And even though the water doesn’t drown out all the pain or the memories, it gives you enough space to let the emotions pour out—if only for a little while.

Xavier’s breath came in shallow bursts as he navigated the empty streets of Linkon City, the familiar hum of his hunter’s watch glowing faintly on his wrist. His blue eyes flicked between the road and the holographic screen hovering just above the watch face. The blue light illuminated his face, highlighting the sharp focus in his eyes. The signal from the phone booth was still there, blinking steadily. That was his main lead—the last place you’d been before everything went silent.

His mind replayed the sound of your voice from the call, every word etched into his memory. Kidnapped. You hadn’t said much, but the panic in your tone had been unmistakable. The moment the call cut, something in him snapped. There was no hesitation, no second thought—he had left almost immediately, speeding through the city, your trembling words echoing in his head.

"Yeah, his name is S—"

Your words echoed in Xavier's mind, over and over, like a haunting refrain. You hadn’t been able to finish your sentence before the call had abruptly cut out, leaving him with nothing but that single, meaningless syllable. S. It replayed in his head as the car sped forward, finally breaking free from the limits of Linkon City and onto the dark, winding road that would lead him toward the N109 Zone.

He had tried to call back the second the line went dead, his hands trembling as he frantically redialed the number, but it was no use. The call wouldn’t connect. Maybe you had run out of money for the payphone. Maybe something far worse had happened.

The not knowing gnawed at him.

Who was S? The question had burned in his mind from the moment you said it. A name. It had to be a name. But just that one letter wasn’t enough to figure out who this person was, let alone why they had taken you. He cursed under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter as the dark road stretched out before him.

Whoever S was, they were dangerous enough to bring you to the N109 Zone. That part made his blood run cold. This place wasn’t just desolate—it was the kind of area that most people in the city pretended didn’t even exist. It was lawless, forgotten. A place where the desperate went to disappear, where the city’s darkness festered beneath the surface and on top of it, darkness everywhere you turn.

But why there? What did this S want with you? And why take you so far from the city?

He replayed the phone call in his mind again, your voice shaky but steady as you’d tried to tell him what had happened. The fear had been there, simmering just beneath your words, but you had clearly fought to stay calm.

Xavier’s heart pounded harder with every mile. There was something else that bothered him, something gnawing at the edges of his mind. Why had you been targeted? You were strong, capable—smart. One of the best deep space hunters around. You wouldn’t have let yourself be taken easily. That meant whoever S was, he’d planned this, thought it through, and knew how to get to you. That thought made Xavier’s stomach twist. This wasn’t random. It was calculated.

The car hit a bump in the road, jolting him back to the present, but his mind still raced. He needed to find you, needed to get to you before this S—whoever he was—did something unforgivable. He couldn’t stand the thought of you being out there, scared and alone, waiting for help that felt too far away.

He glanced at the holographic display on his hunter’s watch again, watching as the faint signal pulsed from the N109 Zone. It wasn’t much of a lead, but it was the best lead he had. That phone booth, that single clue you’d left him before the call ended, was his only connection to you now.

Who are you, S? The question echoed in his mind as he pressed down harder on the gas pedal, the car roaring down the empty highway.

He didn’t know what awaited him in the N109 Zone, but he knew one thing for sure: he was prepared to fight like hell for you.

After what felt like an eternity, buildings whipping past him, Xavier finally pulled up to the phone booth, his heart hammering in his chest. The headlights illuminated the cracked pavement and the battered glass of the booth, standing alone at the edge of the desolate lot like a ghost from another time. But of course, you weren’t there. The booth was empty. You were nowhere to be found.

Xavier’s grip tightened on the steering wheel as he sat there for a moment, staring at the empty phone booth. His mind raced, thoughts tangled in frustration and fear. You had told him you would call back—you had said you were going to that strange man’s house, and then you’d come back to tell him what it looked like. But now, standing there in the middle of the N109 Zone, it felt like that plan had shattered into a thousand pieces.

He stepped out of the car, the cold air hitting him like a slap to the face as he approached the booth. His eyes scanned the area, up and down, looking for any sign of you. But there was nothing. Just silence. The eerie kind that made his stomach twist with unease.

The booth was run-down, even worse up close. He stared at it, his thoughts flickering between panic and regret. Should he wait for you to come back, as you said you would? Or had something already gone terribly wrong? Every second that passed felt like a ticking clock, time slipping away, leaving him more uncertain than ever.

He leaned against the booth, raking a hand through his hair, trying to decide. You had been so determined—so sure you could handle this. You’d said you were going to check out this strange man’s house, get some rest, and then return. But the thought of you going there alone, to that man—whoever he was—made him sick.

I should’ve told you not to go with him.

The regret hit him hard, twisting deep in his chest. He should’ve been more forceful, should’ve stopped you. The second you’d mentioned this man, this stranger who had somehow convinced you to follow him, alarm bells had gone off in his head. He had sensed something wasn’t right. Why hadn’t he told you to stay away? Why hadn’t he made sure you didn’t go?

But you were strong, capable—you had always been stubborn, determined to handle things on your own. And he had trusted you to do that. But now…now you were missing. And he was standing in an empty lot with no idea where you were or who had taken you.

Xavier clenched his fists, staring at the phone booth as if willing it to give him answers. The last place you had been. He thought about turning around, driving through the N109 Zone, checking every corner, every building. But the reality of how vast and dangerous this area was made him hesitate. He didn’t even know who to look for. S. The mysterious man whose name had been cut off by the phone’s disconnect. That wasn’t enough.

Xavier’s stomach growled, pulling him from the fog of his frantic thoughts. He hadn’t eaten properly in hours, and the adrenaline that had been fueling him was finally wearing thin. He gritted his teeth, the pang of hunger a sharp reminder of just how long it had been since he’d stopped moving. He didn’t want to waste time, but he knew he needed to eat, to think straight.

Reluctantly, he climbed back into the car and started driving, scanning the streets of the N109 Zone for anything that looked remotely functional. This part of the city was basically wasteland—most of the buildings were crumbling, their windows broken, and the streets were nearly empty. He almost decided to give up before spotting a flicker of neon in the distance.

It was a convenience store—small, dingy, and barely lit—but it was open. The cracked neon sign buzzed weakly, casting a dull glow over the entrance. It didn’t look promising, but it was all he had. He pulled up, the car’s tires crunching over the broken pavement as he parked.

Xavier stepped out, his eyes narrowing as he approached the entrance. The store looked as worn out as the rest of the area, its windows covered in grime and dust, but the lights inside told him it was still in business. He pushed the door open, the warmth of the store enveloping him.

The place reeked of stale air and something faintly metallic. Shelves lined the narrow aisles, most of them half-stocked but there was variety. Xavier grabbed a few snacks—whatever looked edible—and made his way to the counter, where a grimy man with disheveled hair and yellowed teeth sat behind the register, staring at him with a disinterested scowl.

“Do you take gold?” Xavier asked, pulling out a small pouch from his pocket. It wasn’t unusual for places outside Linkon City to not take gold, as a lot of places were still living in the past. Couldn't hurt to ask though.

The man behind the counter laughed, a rough, guttural sound that made Xavier’s skin crawl. “Gold, huh? Figures. You Linkcunt folks just keep coming in here actin’ like it’s worth more than it is.” He leaned forward, eyeing Xavier with something between amusement and suspicion.

"No, we don't take it."

Xavier pocketed the small pouch, unsurprised by the man's harsh words, “You said Linkon folks? Who else from the city has been here?” His tone was casual, but his heart skipped a beat. Maybe someone else had seen you?

"Linkcunt," the man corrected with a sneer. The man’s eyes flicked up, narrowing slightly. “Why, you looking for someone?” He eyed Xavier and leaned back in his chair, his voice taking on an edge of curiosity.

Xavier pressed, trying to keep his voice steady. “Maybe. Just wondering who else might’ve been through here recently.”

The man scratched his stubbled chin, considering. “Well, there was this disheveled-looking girl who came through a little while ago. Had a lot of attitude, that one. Demanding help. Swiped some snacks and shit when I wasn’t looking. Took off before I could do anything about it.” He shrugged, clearly not too bothered by the theft. “But that’s basically all I know.”

Xavier’s heart stopped. A disheveled girl… Could it have been you?

His pulse quickened, the pieces clicking together. You must have come through here before disappearing. The man didn’t seem to know much more, but this was a sign. You had been close—you had been right here.

“What’d she look like?” Xavier asked, trying not to sound too eager.

The man waved a hand lazily. “Didn't look that closely to be honest. Bitch looked like hell, though. Clothes all messed up, like she’d been through something. But she was quick—didn’t stick around long enough for me to really notice much else. Don’t know where she went after that. Just up and vanished with my stock”

Xavier nodded, feeling a surge of both hope and frustration. You’d been here, that much was clear. But now you were gone again, slipping through his fingers like a ghost.

"You really shouldn't talk about women like that".

He paid for the snacks with some dollar bills he kept in his car for out of city trips, and turned to leave, leaving the disgruntled cashier. His mind already racing to figure out where you could’ve gone from here.

Xavier’s heart pounded in his chest as he stepped back outside, the cold night air hitting him like a wall. You’d been here. Not long ago, from the sound of it. He could almost picture it—your disheveled form rushing through the aisles, grabbing whatever you could before vanishing into the shadows again. You were close, too close to give up now. But where had you gone?

He clenched his jaw, glancing around the empty streets. There were too many directions, too many places you could have disappeared to. The N109 Zone was vast, a labyrinth of forgotten corners and abandoned buildings, and there was no telling where you might have run off to next.

His mind raced, trying to make sense of the little he knew. You had come here to get food, maybe out of desperation—running on fear and adrenaline. And then, like the man said, you were gone. No tracks, no sign of where you’d been taken.

Xavier pulled a crumpled pamphlet out of his jacket pocket, his fingers brushing over the faded image of a sleek pair of boots. It was the same pamphlet the shoe store clerk had given him earlier, and now, it seemed like his only other lead. A shoe store… It might seem like a stretch, but he had learned to follow even the smallest clues. If he couldn’t figure out where you had gone, maybe he could figure out more about the man who had taken you. And starting with something as small as his shoes might just be the break he needed.

He studied the pamphlet again, his eyes narrowing as he recalled his brief conversation with the clerk. The shoes had been expensive, high-end—definitely not something most people in the N109 Zone would be wearing.

But S wasn’t like most people, was he?

Xavier’s mind spun as he hurriedly typed the address from the pamphlet into his hunter’s watch, the holographic screen glowing softly as it processed the information. The watch pinged, highlighting the location of the store in the city. It wasn’t far, but it was a place he wouldn’t have expected someone from the N109 Zone to frequent.

If S was wearing those shoes, it meant he had money—or at least access to it. That was something Xavier could work with. People like that left trails, even in places where they thought they could stay hidden.

He started the car again, his pulse quickening as the watch projected the route onto the windshield. The shoe store was his next stop, and if he was lucky, he could get more information about who S really was. Maybe someone there had seen him, or better yet, could point him in the direction of where he lived or did business.

As the car sped toward the heart of the city, Xavier’s determination sharpened. He was getting closer to answers—closer to finding you. If he could learn more about this mysterious man, this “S,” then maybe, just maybe, he could figure out where you were being held.

As Xavier sped through the dark, crumbling streets of the N109 Zone, the world outside his car blurred into a mix of shadows and faint streetlights. His mind was focused on finding you, piecing together the next step in his search. Then, out of nowhere, a piercing scream shattered the stillness.

His foot slammed on the brake, the car lurching to a stop as his heart raced. The sound of the scream echoed through the desolate streets, raw and desperate. He scanned the area frantically, searching for the source of the cry for help. Then he saw her—a woman stumbling into the dim light from a broken streetlamp, clutching her side, her face twisted in pain.

“Help! Please, help me!” she gasped, her voice cracking with panic as she looked directly at him, her body collapsing onto the cracked pavement.

Xavier’s hunter instincts kicked in immediately. He couldn’t just leave someone like that. He shoved the car door open and rushed toward her, his eyes darting around, looking for any potential danger. The streets of the N109 Zone were unpredictable, but he couldn't just ignore someone in need.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” he asked, his tone urgent but calm as he knelt down beside her.

The woman’s breathing was shallow, her face pale and contorted with pain. She clutched her ribs, wincing with every breath. “I don’t know,” she whimpered, “I was attacked. I need help… please…” Her eyes were wild with fear, darting between Xavier and the shadows beyond, as if expecting someone—or something—to come after her at any moment.

Xavier’s heart pounded, his mind racing. “I’ll get you some help,” he assured her, reaching for his phone. But as he fumbled for it, he felt a shift—something wasn’t right.

The woman’s eyes flicked over his shoulder, her panic momentarily replaced by something colder, more calculating. Before he could react, a blur of movement rushed behind him.

A sharp clink. The keys.

Xavier’s blood ran cold as he spun around, just in time to see a man slip past him, keys glinting in his hand. The stranger, quick and agile, darted toward Xavier’s car, jumping into the driver’s seat. How did I not see this coming? The realization hit him like a punch to the gut—this was a setup.

“Hey!” Xavier yelled, lunging forward, his heart hammering in his chest. But it was too late.

The woman, now standing tall with no trace of pain or injury, smirked at him, her expression smug and mocking. “Thanks for the ride, city boy,” she sneered, her voice dripping with satisfaction as she ran toward the passenger side of the car. She moved easily now, as if the earlier fear and desperation had been nothing but an act. It had been.

Xavier’s mind raced as he sprinted toward the car, but the engine roared to life before he could even get close. The man in the driver’s seat gunned the accelerator, the tires screeching against the pavement as the car sped away, leaving a cloud of dust in its wake.

His heart sank as he watched the taillights disappear into the darkness, the weight of the situation crashing down on him. His car. His keys. Everything—gone in an instant. And with it, any chance of quickly finding you.

He'd have to walk on foot.

The steam from the shower still clung to your skin as you stepped out, your mind swirling in a haze of exhaustion and hunger. Your stomach growled loudly, reminding you just how long it had been since you last ate. The hot water had done little to wash away the weight of everything pressing down on you—the memories, the fear—but it had, at least, cleaned the grime from your body. You were left feeling raw and exposed, unsure of what was coming next.

You opened the glass door of the shower and grabbed a towel laying on the counter, wrapping it around yourself quickly before exiting.

You saw Sylus had elected to lean against the doorframe when you stepped out, and he turned around to face you. His eyes, those sharp, red eyes, softened when they met yours. "The chef has prepared food for you," he said, his voice gentle. The tenderness in his tone felt unnerving, like everything else with him, but the thought of food was too tempting to resist.

But before you could respond, he gestured to a set of neatly prepared shopping bags laid on his bed outside the bathroom. “I want you to open these first. Consider them gifts I had planned for you… before you ran off.” The edge in his words lingered, but his expression remained neutral. You vaguely remembered him clipping your nails while you were in the bathtub, a pile of shopping bags at his feet.

Ah, you had forgotten all about those. You wrapped the towel around yourself tighter, a knot of discomfort forming in your stomach.

You hesitated for a moment, then slowly approached the bed, your hands trembling slightly as you began to take out the "gifts". The first bag contained delicate pieces of underwear—soft, lace, and undeniably expensive. You swallowed hard, feeling a wave of unease crawl up your spine.

“Gifts for me? Or for you to see on me?” you muttered, unable to hide the malice in your voice, the bitterness slipping out.

Sylus’s lips quirked into a small, amused smile, his red eyes flickering with that familiar, unsettling glint. "Why not both?," he replied softly, the weight of his gaze lingering on you as though he found your defiance amusing.

These weren’t just clothes; they were symbols of his control, of how he saw you. Like you were his little doll to dress up. Still, you nodded hesitantly, accepting the garments with quiet reluctance.

Beneath the underwear were more practical clothes—soft, comfortable tops, leggings, and dresses. Each piece was chosen carefully, and despite yourself, you appreciated the effort, if only because you were desperate for something to wear to avoid Sylus's lingering gaze on your damp body. You chose a simple, slightly loose white dress, letting it fall over your damp skin. Then slipped on one of the many underwear he had bought for you. Sylus watched you quietly, a small smile playing on his lips as he waited for you to finish.

“You might've lost a few pounds from stress, once you start eating more, it’ll fit better,” he said casually, his tone matter-of-fact as though he hadn’t just casually referenced your weakened state. The words hung in the air, a subtle reminder of how long you'll be trapped here. Then, with a surprising softness, he added, “You look beautiful nonetheless, honey.”

“Honey.” A new pet name.

Surprisingly, instead of making you grimace like his usual endearments, it sends an unwelcome heat crawling across your face. You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself not to react, but the flush is unmistakable. Against your will, your gaze drops, and you look away from him, the sudden surge of embarrassment catching you off guard.

Sylus notices, of course. His smile deepens slightly, a quiet satisfaction flickering in his eyes as if he can sense the effect his words have on you. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his gaze on you—steady, watchful—his presence filling the room in an unnerving way that makes it harder to breathe.

He extended his hand toward you, the gesture oddly tender and yet impossible to trust. You hesitated, unsure if taking it would solidify his power over you further or if refusing would draw out something worse. But you take it, residing to the fact that you didn't have much choice.

He moved toward the door, your hand held in his grip. “Come,” he said. “The food is waiting.”

Your stomach growled again, and despite the tension between you and him, you found yourself trailing after him, your body driven by the gnawing hunger you couldn’t ignore. As you stepped into the dining hall, the rich, mouth-watering aroma of freshly prepared food hit you like a wave.

The table was filled with an extravagant feast. Platters of roasted meats sat alongside bowls of vibrant vegetables, glistening under the kitchen lights. There were thick, tender cuts of lamb, still steaming from the oven, their edges crisp and golden. Roasted chicken, its skin perfectly browned and seasoned with herbs, sat atop a bed of caramelized onions and garlic. Beside them, a platter of seared duck breast, cooked to perfection, its fat rendered into a rich, savory glaze.

On another side of the table were bowls of creamy mashed potatoes, rich and buttery, their surface dusted with flecks of chives. A dish of roasted root vegetables—carrots, parsnips, and beets—was arranged in a beautiful display, their edges crisp and caramelized, drizzled with a balsamic glaze. There was a vibrant salad of mixed greens, tossed with fresh pomegranate seeds, crumbled goat cheese, and candied walnuts, the dressing a light, tangy vinaigrette that made your mouth water.

A basket of freshly baked bread sat in the center of the table, the rolls warm and soft, their golden crusts begging to be torn apart. Small bowls of whipped butter, infused with honey and herbs, accompanied them, the scent sweet and savory.

But it didn’t stop there. Desserts, too, were laid out, tempting you even further. A decadent chocolate tart with a glossy ganache topping, dusted with powdered sugar and fresh raspberries, sat next to a platter of delicate fruit tarts, their centers brimming with custard and topped with glistening berries. A tower of macarons in various pastel shades—lavender, pistachio, rose—completed the lavish display.

Sylus pulled out a chair for you, his smile widening as he watched your eyes dart from one dish to the next. "Well don't just stare, sit down".

The sight and smell overwhelmed you, and for a moment, you felt like a prisoner presented with a royal meal, knowing full well the chains still bound you. But hunger gnawed at your insides, and no matter how conflicted you were, your body screamed for sustenance as you sat.

"Eat," Sylus urged, taking a seat across from you. His eyes never left yours, watching, waiting for your reaction.

Your hand trembled slightly as you reached for a piece of bread, the warmth of it soothing in your palm. You tore it open, the soft dough yielding beneath your fingers, and dipped it into the whipped honey butter, taking a small bite. The flavors burst in your mouth, and despite everything, you couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh of relief.

The food was perfect—too perfect. And as you took another bite, you couldn’t help but wonder: was this all part of the game too? Or was it simply nourishment after the storm?

Sylus leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on you as you ate, his expression unreadable. He didn’t speak, just watched you in that unsettling, familiar way—like he was always studying you, always thinking, always planning. His silence, for once, was almost a relief, allowing you to focus on the food and ignore his presence as much as possible.

You couldn’t help it. The hunger gnawed at you, and the feast before you was impossible to resist. The flavors were rich, the textures comforting, and before you realized it, you had cleared almost four plates. Each bite had momentarily dulled the chaos in your mind, letting you push aside the fear, the memories, and the discomfort that still lingered in your chest.

Sylus didn’t comment as you reached for more, nor did he interrupt. He seemed content to let you eat in peace, his eyes never leaving you but his lips remaining closed. It wasn’t until you finally pushed the last plate away, feeling the fullness settle in your stomach, that the silence between you felt heavier.

The weight of exhaustion began to settle over you. The warmth from the food and the sheer relief of being full left you feeling heavy, your eyelids growing heavier by the minute. You hadn’t realized just how tired you were until that moment. Your body felt like it had finally reached its limit.

Sylus stood up, breaking the silence. His movements were smooth and deliberate as he pushed his chair back, his gaze never leaving you. “You must be tired,” he said softly, the same unnerving tenderness in his voice as before. “It’s time for bed.”

You tensed slightly at his words, but your body, worn down by hunger and stress, didn’t have the strength to protest. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, afraid of what might come out if you did. There was no point in resisting, not tonight.

Sylus moved toward you, his hand extending again as if offering comfort. You hesitated, looking at his outstretched hand, but you didn’t have the energy to reject him. You let him guide you, his touch gentle yet firm as he led you toward the bedroom you were dreading your return to.

You don’t remember when exactly you slipped into unconsciousness, but the world had faded into nothing after Sylus lifted you into the bed. His arms were unexpectedly gentle, cradling you with a kind of care that felt entirely out of place. You were vaguely aware of him pulling the blankets up around you, tucking you in, but then everything went dark. The exhaustion you had been fighting all day finally consumed you, and you sank into the deepest sleep you’d felt in what seemed like forever.

There was comfort in the darkness, the kind of peace that only comes with complete surrender to sleep. No fear, no panic, just the void. You floated there, cradled in warmth. But soon, the darkness gave way to a dream, vivid and consuming.

Xavier appeared first, stepping out of the shadows of your mind. His familiar figure brought an immediate sense of relief. His ashy blonde hair fell into his face, and his striking blue eyes bore into you with the same warmth and intensity that always made your heart flutter. There he was, just as you remembered—strong, dependable, and safe. He reached out, his hand extending toward you, and without hesitation, you moved toward him.

The moment your hand met his, your heart melted, the overwhelming sense of security flooding through you. For the first time in what felt like ages, you felt safe. You felt home.

But something changed.

Xavier’s gaze, once filled with affection and care, shifted. His eyes darkened, turning cold, distant. The warmth you’d found in his presence quickly evaporated, replaced by something harsh and unfamiliar. His lips curled downward, a shadow crossing his face, and his grip on your hand tightened. The shift was sudden, the dream warping around you like a twisted reflection of reality.

"Why did you want him dead?" His voice cut through the dream, sharp and cold, the softness you’d expected from him nowhere to be found.

You blinked, confusion gripping you as his words sank in. “Huh?” Your face faltered, your heart pounding in your chest. His cold stare drilled into you, and you could feel something inside you cracking under its weight. What was happening?

"You're the reason Reese is dead," Xavier said, his words landing like a punch to the gut. His voice, usually so steady, so comforting, was now filled with anger, with accusation. His grip on your hand turned painful, his fingers digging into your skin with an almost crushing force.

“No...” Your voice wavered, barely able to push the word out as your mind reeled. “That wasn’t my fault, it was Sy—” You tried to explain, to say anything to stop the blame from settling on your shoulders. But the words caught in your throat, and you couldn’t finish. You couldn’t get them out.

His face twisted, contorting with anger and something that looked like disappointment. His blue eyes, once a source of warmth, were now filled with icy judgment, the coldness sinking into your skin like knives. His grip tightened further, pain shooting through your hand, but no matter how hard you tried to pull away, you couldn’t escape.

The dream around you blurred, the edges of reality warping and distorting. The ground beneath you seemed to shift, unsteady, while Xavier's figure loomed larger, his presence suffocating. The weight of his blame pressed down on your chest like a stone, suffocating you, filling your lungs with an overwhelming sense of guilt.

You tried to explain again, your voice strangled by the intensity of the moment, but Xavier wasn’t listening. His hand was like a vice, his fingers digging into your skin as his gaze pinned you in place. His words repeated in your mind, echoing louder and louder—“You're the reason he’s dead.”

Xavier's face began to twist, distorting into something grotesque, something no longer human. His once gentle features morphed and stretched unnaturally, his blue eyes darkening into hollow, accusing pits. His grip on your hand became unbearable, crushing the bones in your fingers as his form continued to change, shifting from the man you loved into a nightmare. The warmth that had briefly comforted you was gone, replaced by a deep, bone-chilling cold.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to pull away, but the force holding you was relentless. You stared in horror as Xavier’s form became unrecognizable, his skin taking on a gray, cracked texture, his mouth elongating into a grimace filled with sharp teeth. His eyes, now nothing more than deep, empty voids, bore into you with a hatred that sent shivers down your spine.

“You’re a murderer,” the figure spat, its voice now a low, guttural growl that echoed in your ears, far louder than it should have been. “Murderer.” The word hit you like a physical blow, making your entire body tense as you tried to make sense of what was happening.

“No…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you desperately tried to defend yourself. “It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t—”

“You have blood on your hands!” the figure roared, its voice shaking the world around you. Xavier’s face continued to twist and contort, veins bulging from his neck, his body looming over you like a towering monster. “You told him to die!”

The words echoed again and again, crashing into you with the force of a tidal wave. The weight of guilt slammed into your chest, almost knocking the wind out of you as the grotesque version of Xavier leaned in closer. His voice became more vicious, more unforgiving. “You let him die, and now the blood is on your hands!”

You looked down, and your breath caught in your throat. Blood. It was everywhere—on your hands, dripping from your fingers, pooling at your feet. Panic surged through you, your heart racing as you tried to wipe it away, but no matter how hard you scrubbed, the blood only seemed to multiply, staining your skin, your clothes, everything around you.

“You’ll never wash it off!” the figure screamed, its voice shaking with rage. “Never!” It grabbed your shoulders, shaking you violently as it continued to scream. “You’re a murderer!

You struggled, trying to pull free, but the figure’s grip was unbreakable. The dream spiraled into chaos, the world around you collapsing into darkness as the screams filled the air, overwhelming your senses. The blood seemed to rise like a tide, crawling up your arms, soaking through your skin. You gasped for air, but it was suffocating, the guilt swallowing you whole.

“Murderer!” the figure roared again, louder this time, shaking you until your vision blurred. “Murderer! Murderer!"

Tears streamed down your face as you tried to shake your head, to deny it, but the accusations wouldn’t stop. The guilt, the blood, the rage—it was all around you, suffocating you, crushing you.

And then, just as quickly as it began, the figure stopped. It stood over you, silent now, but its eyes—those hollow, accusing voids—were locked onto you. “You can never escape what you’ve done,” it whispered, the venom in its voice chilling you to the core.

You shot up in bed, heart hammering in your chest, a scream tearing through your throat before you even knew what was happening. The sheets clung to your sweat-soaked skin as you gasped for breath, the nightmare still gripping you in its suffocating hold. Your hands shook violently, fingers instinctively rubbing at your palms, expecting to see the blood, the thick, crimson stain that had haunted you moments before.

But there was no blood.

The room was dark, dimly lit by a lamp settled on the nightstand. Sylus sat beside you, awake, casually reading a book. His red eyes glanced up from the pages, calm and steady, showing no sign of surprise at your sudden outburst.

“You’re okay,” Sylus said softly, his voice low but steady. He closed the book, setting it aside as he reached out, pulling you closer, into his arms with a gentle grip. The warmth of his body on yours was meant to be comforting, but the lingering terror from the dream made his touch feel heavier, suffocating.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, the echoes of the nightmare still gripping you. The blood, the screams, the weight of guilt—it all felt so real, too real to shake off. Your hands trembled in your lap, still trying to rub away the invisible stain that wouldn’t leave.

“Shhh,” Sylus soothed, his voice soft as he stroked your back with deliberate calmness. “It was just a nightmare, kitten.”

But his words barely penetrated the thick fog of panic swirling in your mind. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to steady your breathing, but the image of Xavier’s cold, accusing gaze still lingered in the corners of your thoughts, leaving an ache in your chest that refused to fade.

Sylus’s gaze never wavered from you. He was patient, his grip around you getting stronger as you fought to regain control, his expression a mixture of curiosity and concern, though it was impossible to tell how much of it was real. He watched you wordlessly, waiting patiently for your breathing to slow as he rubbed your back in soothing motions.

And you did, eventually. Slowly, your heartbeat began to slow, the cold sweat drying on your skin as the nightmare finally started to loosen its grip. You were still shaken, but reality was settling back in.

Sylus smiled, his eyes softening slightly. “Good girl,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You feel better?"

"It's not my fault..." you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as tears began streaming down your face, hot and unstoppable. The weight of the nightmare still pressed against your chest, the guilt wrapping itself around your heart. "Reese... I told him to die, kinda. But you killed him!"

Your words trembled in the air, and for a moment, the room felt suffocatingly silent. Sylus’s arm stilled on your back, his red eyes watching you closely. His face remained calm, unreadable, but something flickered behind his gaze—curiosity, perhaps, or even amusement. He began rubbing your back again.

He leaned in slightly, his voice low and steady as he spoke. “I killed him because he took what was mine,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You didn’t pull the trigger, I did. Don’t fool yourself, sweetie.” His fingers gently wiped away the tears falling down your cheeks, lingering on your skin a second longer than necessary.

“His fate was sealed the moment he touched you. You’re not responsible for his death.”

Your heart ached, the confusion and guilt twisting inside you. The memory of Reese's lifeless body, the sound of the gunshot, played over and over in your mind. You knew that Sylus had been the one to end it, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that your words, your anger, had driven the final nail in the coffin.

"But I—" you started, your voice cracking, but Sylus shushed you gently, pressing a finger to your lips.

“Don’t burden yourself,” he whispered, his voice soothing but firm. “Reese was a pest, and pests are dealt with. It wasn’t your fault. You said what you needed to say in the moment” His eyes softened, his gaze almost affectionate. “And now, you’re here—with me. Safe.”

"Am I?" you sobbed, the weight of your emotions crashing down on you all at once. The tears came faster, and with them, the memory of that night—the night Sylus had taken everything into his own hands, literally. The sharp pain, the feeling of your skin being sliced open as he calmly removed your birth control implant, resurfaced in vivid detail. The raw fear that had gripped you then returned now, surging like a wave you couldn't hold back.

"At least Reese never hurt me," you choked out between sobs, your voice trembling, barely holding together. "You, on the other hand..."

Your hand instinctively went to your arm, tracing the faint scar left behind from when Sylus had decided, without a second thought, that he would control every part of you—inside and out. The scar was still there, but it wasn’t just on your skin. The memory of that violation ran deeper than any wound that could heal.

Sylus’s expression didn’t shift at your words. His calm gaze remained fixed on you, though there was a slight narrowing of his eyes. His hand paused in its comforting motions, hovering just inches from you, as if calculating how to respond.

“I did what was necessary,” he said, his voice calm, controlled, almost dismissive. "Everything I’ve done has been for you. For us. Why are you crying over a man that handed you and countless others over for crack?"

The flood of emotions broke through all at once at his words.

"Because-because he wasn't supposed to die. Hunters aren't the reason people die, we save people...he could've went to jail he wasn't supposed to-"

You crumpled, sobs wracking your body as the weight of everything—of all you had endured—became too much to bear. Memories you had tried to suppress, to bury deep within you, rose to the surface like dark waves crashing against fragile walls.

The man from the basement. His hands grabbing you, the smell of his breath, the sheer terror that had paralyzed you as he tried to force himself on you. You had fought, screamed, but the memory was still there, etched into your mind like a brand that would never fade. The nightmare you had just woken from had only served to rip open the scars you had so desperately tried to heal.

Your words came out in broken fragments, incoherent between sobs. "That other man…he tried… I couldn’t— I couldn’t stop him…" Your voice cracked, your chest heaving as you babbled through the memories, the trauma wrapping itself around you like a suffocating shroud. "He—he wouldn’t stop… I couldn’t breathe, I was so scared…"

You weren’t even sure Sylus was listening. You couldn’t look at him. Everything blurred together, your mind overwhelmed by the pain, the helplessness, the feeling of being trapped again in that moment. You curled in on yourself, trembling as the sobs became uncontrollable, the terror of that night suffocating you all over again.

Then you felt it—Sylus’s hand, soft and deliberate, gently cradling your cheek. He leaned in, his voice softening into something almost unbearably tender, a tone you never thought he was capable of.

"Poor thing, you're such a mess," he murmured.

His eyes lingered on you with a mix of pity and affection, as though you were something fragile, something cherished. It was as if watching you unravel before him caused his heart to ache.

“I can help you forget,” he whispered, his thumb brushing away your tears with slow, careful strokes. “Let me take the pain away, kitten. You don’t have to carry it anymore.”

His words were soothing, like a lullaby coaxing you away from the edge of your breakdown. His touch was uncharacteristically soft, his presence surrounding you like a cocoon, making it harder to pull yourself out of the depths of your despair. For a brief moment, the way he looked at you—like he truly cared—made you falter.

"I'll make it all disappear," Sylus murmured, his voice low and hypnotic, penetrating the darkest recesses of your fractured psyche. It was as if he possessed the power to reach inside your mind and vaporize the painful memories that clung to you like shackles. "You want to feel so good you won't think about him again?"

You hesitate at his words. The rational part of your mind urged you to turn away, not to respond. To pull yourself from his embrace and fight him. But the other part, muddled by trauma, drove you to stay. To seek comfort, any comfort, even in his arms.

From your captor of all people.

“Yes…” you whimpered, blinking away tears. You didn’t know why you answered that way—your mind screamed at you to stop—but you found yourself reaching out, your fingers clutching the collar of his shirt and pulling him closer.

Anything. Anything to make this pain stop.

His lips crashed against yours before you could even register what was happening, consuming you in a kiss so passionate it bordered on painful. All rational thought evaporated as his tongue plundered the recesses of your mouth, stroking along your palate and tangling with your own tongue in a sensual dance as old as time itself.

You were consumed, caught in the storm of his touch, unable to think beyond the overwhelming need to escape the agony of your memories—even if only for a moment.

Your hands flew to his face of their own accord, fingers threading through his hair as you clung to him like a drowning woman gasping for air. You kissed him back with a fervor born of desperation, pouring all your pent-up anguish and trauma into the hungry clash of lips and teeth. The two of you panted against each other, like animals ready to tear each other to shreds.

Some distant part of you screamed that this was mistake, that doing this with him willingly was certainly wrong. He had kidnapped you after all. Stolen you. But it was drowned out by the pounding of your heart, the ache of need pulsing between your thighs. His hands slid under your dress, calloused palms skimming over hypersensitive flesh, and you arched into his touch with a whimper.

"Sylus..." you whined, already feeling the desperate ache reach your core.

"I know, kitten. Patience, we just started" he said, amusement adorning his face.

His lips found yours again, hot and demanding, silencing any lingering protests. You melted into the kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mix of desire and danger that left you craving more. His fingers find the hem of your underwear, wasting no time to remove the obstacle from your wet depths.

Your whole body trembled as Sylus's lips blazed a path down your body, trailing molten kisses along the column of your throat. Each brush of his mouth against your sensitive skin sent electricity singing through your veins, igniting another fiery ache between your thighs. When he nudged aside the fabric of your dress to nuzzle the slick flesh of your cunt, you let out a strangled moan, your fingers curling into the sheets beneath you.

The tip of his nose grazed your swollen bud, and your back arched off the bed, every nerve ending sparking with raw pleasure. "Nnnngh…" you whimpered, hips bucking instinctively toward his teasing touch.

Sylus's deep, resonant chuckle rumbled through you, vibrating against your core in a way that made your toes curl. "So responsive," he murmured, his warm breath ghosting over your dripping folds. "Tell me, kitten-were you this wet for him? Did he make you shiver and moan like this when he touched you?"

He grips your thighs almost possessively, waiting for your answer.

His words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over your head, plunging you back into reality. Shame crashed over you in nauseating waves, your arousal doused by the realization of how easily Sylus manipulated your body. Tears leaked from the corners of your eyes as you squeezed them shut, fists clenching in the bedding.

"No," you choked out, voice brittle. "Never. He never touched me like this…Sylus, please…" The plea was torn from your throat, part desperation, part disgust. You felt filthy, tainted by your own traitorous reactions to Sylus's sensual assault on your most intimate parts.

But despite the revulsion roiling in your gut, your body still yearned for more.

"Its hard to say no when you beg me like that," he said, seemingly satisfied with your answer, began trailing a hot, wet streak against your folds. A gasp punches through your throat, eyes fluttering as you try not to lose all control. The mere feeling of his tongue was sending your brain into frenzies. But it wasn't enough. Wasn't enough to block the pain.

"Sylus, ple-mmph!”

You grip the bedsheets even tighter when he tenderly cuts off your plea with a moan against your clit, his tongue beginning to spread the entrance of your lips apart feverishly. Your breathing gets rapid when you feel something hot breaking past the entrance, deeper and deeper into your walls. Sylus's tongue delved deeper, stroking along your inner walls with devastating skill.

"You don't have to hold the bedsheets." he says, withdrawing momentarily from your depths. He wordlessly guides your hands to the top of his head, and before you can say anything, he's back licking up and down your folds, eventually making his way back in completely. The immediate shockwaves of pleasure make you grip his hair basically against your will, and you tearfully hold his hair as you neared an orgasm.

The pleasure built to an unbearable crescendo as Sylus's tongue relentlessly stroked your inner walls, each slick thrust driving you higher toward the brink of climax. Broken moans spilled from your lips, intermingling with his hungry growls of appreciation. Tears streamed down your face as your hips rocked shamelessly against his mouth, silently begging for the oblivion that hovered just out of reach.

Sylus's strong hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he feasted upon your aching cunt. He seemed enraptured, almost worshipful in his attentions, lavishing your most intimate places with devoted licks and sucks. He ate you out like a starved man. Like he craved you.

Like he missed you.

Occasionally his nose would rub against your clit again and again, a delicious friction that made you sob with the intensity of it all.

When his lips finally closed around your swollen clit and sucked hard, you nearly vaulted off the bed, a strangled scream tearing from your throat.

"Mhgn! Sylus! Please, I can't…it's too much!"

But he didn't let up, his talented tongue circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with ruthless precision. Your vision whited out as you finally reached heaven, wave after wave of ecstasy crashing over you until you thought you might drown in it. Your walls clamped down on his invading tongue, pulsing with the force of your release, unwittingly calling out Sylus's name as you did so.

Finally, blessedly, Sylus withdrew. You melted in the sheets, finally letting go of his hair, boneless and shuddering in the aftermath. Tears streaked your face, but for once, they weren't because Sylus had hurt you. He had done quite the opposite actually.

Taking in the sight of you sprawled before him, flushed and panting, your body trembling. With a wicked smirk, he trailed a hand along your trembling thigh, drawing a shuddering moan from your throat. Evidence of your orgasm coated his mouth, and you watch as he licks the remaining from his lips.

"Tired already?" he teased, quite enjoying the way your body tensed under his touch. "For a hunter I expected you to have more stamina."

The haze of post-orgasmic bliss dissipated as quickly as it had descended, harsh reality crashing back in with brutal clarity. Tears pricked your eyes as the weight of your shame threatened to crush you. You had begged him for it, eagerly spread your legs for your kidnapper as if y'all were lovers. What was wrong with you?

"I..." you trail off, vision blurring with tears once more. What were you going to say? What could you say?

Sylus trailed lazy kisses along your jaw, seeming to sense your internal turmoil within your head. His lips rubbed against your sensitive skin, sending unwanted sparks of pleasure skittering through your nerves.

"If you're still able to think," he murmured against your throat, "then I clearly haven't kept my promise of helping you forget." His nimble fingers worked at his belt buckle.

The leather strap slid free of the loops with a hiss, dropping forgotten to the floor. Soon after, you felt the straps of your dress slip past your shoulders, past your waist, and eventually off your body completely. Sylus's gaze raked over you, lovingly and hungry, devouring the flush on your skin, the swell of your heaving breasts. You felt bare under his scrutiny, stripped of all defenses.

"And here I thought I was doing such a good job of distracting you," he purred, palming himself through his jeans. The rigid line of his erection strained against the faded denim, an obscene bulge that made your mouth go dry. You watched as he began taking his shirt off from over his head, his chiseled stomach and chest coming into view.

"Please..." you whimpered, the word torn from your throat as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. Your body trembled, caught between the whirlwind of conflicting emotions roiling within you. Revulsion. Lust. Desperation. Self-loathing. You don't even know what you're asking for.

Sylus's expression softened as he gazed down at you, his thumb brushing away the moisture collecting on your lashes. It was uncharacteristic of you to beg for anything other than freedom. It was pulling at his heart and making him feel weak. "Shhh, it's alright sweetie," he soothed, his voice a low murmur. "I'm keeping my promise. Don't think, just focus on me."

Slowly, reverently, he lowered his mouth to yours in a kiss that stole your breath and shattered your reservations. His lips moved over yours with aching tenderness, sipping at your parted lips as if savoring the sweetest nectar. The press of his body against yours was solid, reassuring, anchoring you in the whirlwind of sensation.

His tongue slipped past your defenses to stroke the sensitive flesh within, each languid thrust a silent promise of the ecstasy to come. One large hand cradled your face, angling your head to deepen the kiss, while the other smoothed soothing circles on the small of your back.

When he pulls back, eyes staring down at you, it feels like he's staring into the depths of your soul. His eye begins to glow dangerously, and you begin to feel your mind start to spin and the room start to grow hazy. Voices begin pouring into your ears.

Devour him.

He's right there.

Grab him!

But just as quickly as they started, they stopped. You lay there shocked, unable to process what just happened.

"Your mind says a lot more than your mouth does, kitten" he chuckles, and you can only blink confusingly at him as he begins unzipping his pants. He stands up momentarily to remove his pants and you watch as his cock finally spring free. You feel a gush of arousal as you watch it throb, precum slightly leaking at the tip.

"W-what?" you ask, one half of your brain focusing on his raging erection and the other half wondering why the hell your mind felt like it was splitting in half just a second ago.

But you have no time to ponder such questions as Sylus begins to tower above you once more, grabbing your legs and spreading them apart. You squeal at the sudden touch and shiver when his tip rubs against the slit of your opening. His face is twisted with pleasure and his lips are parted, as if he's restraining every part of himself not to push everything into you at once.

"Slow...please" you beg, your hips involuntarily pushing down on the head of his tip when it greets your opening.

"You want me to go slow, yet your hips are lifting off the bed like you can't wait to have me buried inside you," Sylus teased, his voice a low, wicked murmur. He enjoys the way your face twists in annoyance.

 "So greedy, aren't you kitten?"

"I'm not trying t-mmph!"

You words lodge into your throat as you feel the head of his tip pierce your hole. You gasped, back arching as you stretched impossibly around him. A painful stretch causes you to groan and try to pull away, but Sylus puts a hand on your stomach, holding you down and ceasing all resistance.

"Be still, hah, it wont hurt for long". Sylus lips are parted as he lets out his own breathless groan, his senses being overwhelmed with you as he sinks deeper and deeper.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Sylus groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought for control. He eased forward slowly, inch by excruciating inch, letting you adjust to his substantial size. Your velvety walls resisted initially, clamping down around him like a vice.

Sylus paused, buried to the hilt inside you, his pelvis flush against yours. "Breathe, kitten," he instructed, his voice strained with the effort of holding still. "Try to relax okay?."

You tried to relax, to focus on the pleasant pressure building deep in your core instead of the dull ache in your stretched flesh. Gradually, you yielded, your muscles unclenching as Sylus began to move.

"Good girl," he managed through clenched teeth, withdrawing until just the tip remained before sliding back in with agonizing deliberateness. Over and over, he set a torturously slow rhythm, savoring every drag of your fluttering walls along his rigid cock.

 Soon, the sting gave way to blossoming pleasure, radiating outward from where you were joined. You found yourself meeting his measured thrusts, your hips rocking up to take him deeper, chasing that euphoric friction. Sylus's pace quickened marginally, his self-control fraying at the edges. The slap of flesh against flesh echoed obscenely in the room, a filthy symphony that drowned out your labored breaths and muffled whimpers.

Each deliberate thrust carried you further from the pit of anguish threatening to swallow you whole. The exquisite drag of Sylus's thick cock along your sensitive walls obliterated every coherent thought, leaving only the raw, visceral pleasure of the moment. Higher and higher you climbed, chasing the blissful oblivion he promised, until the first warnings of an impending climax rippled through your trembling form.

Sylus shifted his angle slightly, and stars exploded behind your eyelids as he grazed a spot deep inside that made your toes curl. A strangled moan tore from your throat, lost in the slick slide of bodies and the heady musk of arousal perfuming the air.

"That's it, sweetie," Sylus coo'd, his voice low and rough with lust. "Let go. Think about the one making you feel good right now. Think about me. Only me."

His words shivered through you, igniting something primal and needy. Your hips bucked up to meet his thrusts, desperate for more, harder, faster. Your mind snapped and went blank. You were drowning in sensation, drowning in him, and you never wanted to surface. Never wanted to think about reality ever again.

"You're so cute like this," Sylus purred, punctuating each word with a savage grind of his pelvis against yours. "Brain empty and filled with too much cock to think. Should just keep you like this..."

His filthy praise melted your reservations, stoking the desperate frenzy consuming your body and mind. Nothing else mattered beyond the slick slide of flesh and the heady perfume of sex saturating the air. In this moment, Sylus owned you wholly, a willing slave to his lust. All you could do was surrender, drowning in the exquisite agony of your impending release.

The coil of tension in your core tightened with each passing second, your impending climax hovering just out of reach. Sylus sensed your mounting desperation, his rhythm faltering as he chased his own release.

"You're so close," he growled, his rhythm growing erratic as he chased his own completion. "I can feel you tightening up, greedy little thing."

"Go ahead, cum. Let me hear your pretty sounds."

The lewd demand shattered your composure, catapulting you into heaven and you practically screamed his name. Pleasure crashed through you like a tsunami, obliterating every coherent thought. All you knew was the pulsing ache in your core, the rhythmic throb of Sylus's cock buried deep, prolonging your climax until you couldn't take the sensations anymore and almost begged him to stop thrusting.

“Sylus…” you whimper weakly.

Your vision grew blurry as you teetered into overstimulation, your walls clamping down on Sylus's pistoning length like a vise. Thankfully, he was at his own end. You hear a guttural groan of your name in your ear, and then felt the hot splash of his seed painting your insides soon after. His thrusting completely stopped, and the both of you lay there, panting and unmoving.

It was only when you felt his warm seed spilling out onto the bed that you snapped back into reality.

"Did you-"

“Yes, I did it inside,” Sylus murmured, his voice calm, almost too calm. “Where else would it go?”

Before you could even process his words and sit up, he was on you, pinning your arms down to the bed with a swift, ruthless precision, as if anticipating your next move. The weight of him was suffocating, leaving you no room to escape. Panic surged through you, your body instinctively twisting and writhing beneath him, but it was useless. You were trapped.

“After your little escape," he continued, voice laced with playful amusement, "I’ve realized I need to put in more effort. Taming you isn’t as easy as I thought...a baby should be a nice, heavy, leash for you"

“Sylus… please,” you stammer, your heart pounding in your chest. Desperation claws at you as the gravity of his words sinks in. “We don’t need to do this. Not like this. Please, let’s solve this without a child?—I’ll do anything you want. I won’t try to run again, I swear.”

Tears blurred your vision as you begged, the words tumbling out in a frantic rush, your voice cracking with the weight of your fear. But Sylus just smiled, that soft, chilling smile that made your stomach drop. He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned closer, his hand disappearing beneath the bed.

“I know you won’t be running away again. In fact…”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him, terror coiling tighter with every passing second. What was he doing? What was he reaching for? You searched your mind desperately, trying to think of anything, anything at all that might change his mind, but you knew better. Sylus was relentless. He hadn’t forgotten your attempts to resist, and now he was only more determined.

And then you felt it—the cold, unforgiving touch of metal snapping around your ankle.

Your eyes flew wide open, your pulse spiking as you looked down in horror. An ankle chain. You were shackled.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling. "No...is this..?"

“Anything I want, you say?” Sylus's voice oozed with satisfaction, a smile creeping across his lips as he leaned in closer. The warmth of his breath contrasted sharply with the cold metal now binding you in place.

“Then make us a baby, sweetie,” he purred, his fingers tracing lightly down your arm. “That’s what I want most right now.”

The weight of his words settled like ice in your chest. A shiver coursed through your body, your mind racing, searching for some way out, but the chain around your ankle clinked softly with every tiny movement, a reminder of how trapped you really were.

“It’s long enough to reach everything in here, including the toilet and shower,” Sylus said, his voice dripping with satisfaction as he leaned down to press a slow, deliberate kiss to your cheek.

You shuddered beneath him, your tears finally spilling over as the full weight of your situation crashed down on you. “Is this… my punishment for running?” you whispered, your voice fragile and trembling, as if the question itself might break you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place. “No, it’s not a punishment,” he said, his tone soft but resolute. “It’s a necessity, honey.”

His words hung heavy in the air, sealing your fate as surely as the chain around your ankle.

Tears broke free, pouring down your face in uncontrollable waves as the reality of it all crushed you. You sobbed openly, your body shaking under the weight of it, and yet there was nothing you could do. Sylus leaned down, his presence overwhelming, his hand softly brushing the side of your tear-streaked face. His voice was low, almost soothing, as if he believed he was offering comfort instead of twisting the knife deeper.

“The faster you accept this,” he whispered, stroking your hair gently, “the easier it’ll be for you. Accept your place by my side and have my baby.”

"I'll take care of both of you, I promise."

His words only made the knot in your throat tighten further. You hated him. You hated him with every fiber of your being, but worst of all, you hated yourself. Hated the fact that you had once given yourself to him willingly, that you had let the devil himself have your body in a moment of weakness, as if you hadn’t known exactly what he was capable of.

The shame of it burned through you, deeper than any chain ever could. How had you fallen so far? How had you ever let him touch you, let him inside your body, your mind—your soul? The answer twisted cruelly in your gut.

But even despite all the burning hatred you had for him in this moment, another unknown feeling sprouted. One that ached and felt almost unbearable to think about. A longing. Festering within the walls of your strained heart and mind. You refused to acknowledge it though, choosing to drown in the sorrow of your new situation.

Sylus shifted beside you, wrapping his arms around you as if you were lovers instead of captor and captive. His warmth pressed against your skin, a twisted parody of intimacy, and you lay there, eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling. You felt his breathing slow beside you, felt his presence still as he settled in comfortably at your side. But you were miles away, staring into the abyss above, where there was no escape, no solace.

Only the cold, bitter truth. You had let the devil in, and now, there was no way out.

[kewwchee]

Dating Ellie pt.2

sub!E.W x reader, nsfw hcs [mdni]

A/N:Not really proofread. Divider by @/hyuneskkami.

Pt.1

Ellie wasn't purely dominant nor submissive, though on a spectrum, she'd lean more to the submissive side. She just can't help practically worshipping your body and wanting you to lead her.

She'd let you lead her anywhere, and she'd more than definitely want you to lead in sex, be it giving her the pleasure she (needs) wants, or showing her how you like to recieve, until it becomes almost an addiction to her.

Yeah, she's the type to beg for pussy. "Baby, please, I just want a taste, pretty please," soft whiny please while she looks up at you with eyes you can't resist.

She gives at any occasion. On your birthday, when you're stressed, when you treat her well, when you had a bad day or when you two are horny and just need some relief. She's surprisingly good with her fingers too (for someone who looks like a loser), but she always watches your expression carefully, usually one of pure pleasure, and it's encouragement for her to keep going.

Oh, but when she's receiving from you, whether it's head or the strap, she feels even weaker and it makes her moan and whimper. You're not trying to break her, but that's how she feels. Even if you're going slow or too tired to give your 100 percent, her sensitive clit can't help but twitch in pleasure from any soft touch or lick.

Sometimes she's in the mood for some good head, sometimes she wants you to fill her up with the strap till she can't even think anymore. In any position and any dynamic, she practically gives you her body for you to use either for your own pleasure or to push all her right buttons and make her crumble and shake as she orgasms.

She also relishes in your praise when she's (devouring) eating you out, never leaving a drop of your slick in sight as if she was the thirstiest woman alive. Likewise, she loves praising you during sex and telling you how good you make her feel. Even if her lips don't tell, her gushing juices do.

You don't need to do so much for her to get turned on, though she appreciates when you put on a teasing show for her. Speaking of which, teasing is what gets to her the most. It riles her up till she's frustrated and needy. Like when you wear that thin top that fits your figure just right, or when you're walking around swaying your hips in nothing but one of her hoodies.

She says you're so effortlessly attractive but doesn't know that she is too. When she has that face paired with an innocent look, how can anything she do not be hot?

She also notices how you sometimes zone out while trailing your gaze up and down her arm tattoo. It gives her an ego boost and something to tease you about. But let's face it, Ellie isn't the type to keep up the teasing because as soon as your hands are going up and down her body, her face heats up and she automatically opens her legs for you. It's cute, though.

She can usually keep herself composed, but after being with you for quite a while, anytime you two go out and you wear something that shows off a little too much, you noticed her being a little more handsy. When she has someone like you, how can she not be greedy?

Greedy and selfish, that's how she felt when it came to you. So that also meant she wouldn't ever share you. So if someone was eyeing you too much or trying to flirt with you, she'd pull you closer to subtly deter the other person. It was a little reassuring to her too when you'd further declare that you're with her. And all this would lead to two things, either her making out with you right then in somewhere hidden to mark your neck with dark hickeys, or stretch your pussy out so well on her bed while panting in your ear.

She's also big on aftercare. If you're too tired, she'd take care of everything. Cleaning up, giving you water, cuddling, and even feeding you. In return, she likes it when you prioritize aftercare for her, too. It's usually a nice bath, she has her back pressed to you while you trace lazy patterns on her skin. You love your soft and needy girl.

[kiztae]

raindrops ― s.jaeyun

genre: fluff, very suggestive, boyfriend trope

wc: 1.2k

warnings: f.reader, making out ( alot), dry humping, slightly sub! or switch!jake, praise, neediness.

summary: it's cold, it's raining, you and your boyfriend like each other way too much and know just how to feel warmer admist this rainy weather.

a/n: this is pretty short, i had an impulse to write after seeing this jake concept pic and this was what came out. i could possibly write a pt. 2, if you'd like ◡̈ . i also wanted to post after ghosting this account for so long. i hope you enjoy! (ps. jake is dangerously pretty, get this man under control.)

"but it's so cold!" he whined playfully.

small droplets of water were pouring over your window as you laid down, each of your body's temperatures radiating against the other, serving as the best source of warmth in the middle of this chilly rain night.

"you're being such a baby. a cute one, but a baby." you chuckle in response, your hands tracing soft circles over your boyfriend's t-shirt covered back. "just for a little while! come on."

were you being unproductive? maybe. did it matter? no. your exams were finally over and you had spent the last days catching up on anything that was not related to your studies (thank god).

when you first tried to move your icy hands under jake's t-shirt and onto his wide back you were met with a quick yelp and a tug away from him as he whisper-shouted a "woah!" in amazement.

you both giggled it off but he made sure to grab your hands in his and kiss them gently while he cuddled you even more tightly (which seemed impossible before) as the sweet loving boyfriend he was. the same sweet loving boyfriend who while doing so prohibited you from repeating your past try for a warm up.

"i like you so much, but that is so not happening." he stared at you with a smile and then a playful squint of his eyes as he reached back for your waist to push you further against him, closing his eyes briefly while he hid his face in the crook of neck. "i can keep you warm enough like this." he muffled.

"oh please, that's just an excuse to get closer to my chest. don't think i don't know you well enough, sim." you rolled your eyes with a brief giggle and then moved one hand to his hair and started to play with it softly, admiring your boyfriend's pretty features in awe.

"hah, maybe." he replied with amusement. if you thought you liked your boyfriend too much, he was entirely drunk on you. he took in your scent, your skin against his, all of you with such intent, almost as if you were surreal and just an illusion. you were perfect. if he could, he'd chew you up.

"mm, maybe you should keep me warm like this." you sighed with satisfaction as you curled your finger on his hair with a bit more strength, earning the cutest reaction from your boyfriend, a shaky breath and his hazy eyes staring up at you.

"yeah?" he smiled, his excitement being obvious but you loved it just like that. you both always took care of each other, these moments were your favorite.

"yeah." you hooked a handful of his hair in your hand and carefully brought him up to your face with enough force to make him breathe out from the pull but not hurt him, at least not for now.

"you're so perfect." he managed to let out quietly before he smashed his lips on yours impatiently. as always, his lips felt so plush against yours, even with the almost insatiable way in which he was kissing you, he made it feel soft. his mouth quickly started to devour yours once you slightly parted it open for him, your breath getting caught in your chest with how hot you were starting to feel. you could feel his tongue brush against yours, the palm of his hand caress your cheeks, all while he grasped you so intently.

he could never get tired of kissing you. he was pretty sure it was one of his most favorite things to do, no matter the time or place. if he could have you, be with you, he would do so.

"mnf― jake―" you spoke breathlessly, your mind now lost on him and barely able to speak a few words. you don't know why you even tried to say something when you already know just how heated you both get once you start.

"babe? ha― you good?" he muttered out without really stopping to pepper you with kisses, his hands now starting to roam your body, grabbing whatever he could with pure need.

"mhm― yeah, so good." your arms wrapped themselves around his neck in a sweet embrace. the boy quickly nodded with a tiny chuckle of satisfaction, moving his hands further down to start groping your ass, filling his hands with it.

"you're so hot. god―" without even pronouncing the end of his sentence clearly, his mouth was on yours again. it was like he was eating you up, like a starved man. with his hands on your ass, he managed to start pressing you against his hardening crotch, pushing against you almost in a desperate way. "you're warm now, every inch of your skin..." he grasped your thigh with a certain force that made you whine into him, your arms closing in on him even more. his whispers between kisses and his straight up fondling of you made your actions get gradually sloppy with how good it felt to have him on top of you.

"jake― faster." you whined while one of your hands reached for his hair again, aware of much it riled him up. you weren't sure how but you already felt like you were on fire, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap any moment with the way your boyfriend's hips pushed against your center so well.

"whatever you need― fuck, i'm close. i'm sorr―" before he could even try to finish that sentence, you shut him up quickly with a colliding of your lips on his, not wanting to hear anything like an apology right now. he was just so sweet, he wanted to make you feel so good, could you really blame him?

you both could not help the constant airy gasps between kisses, your bed starting to shake in sync with jake, both of you too lost in the moment to care about anything other than giving each other pleasure.

he went to grab your waist with one hand, placing the other against the back of your head to keep you both close to each other, neither of your mouths wanting to separate. it wasn't anything new, you both knew just much you needed to feel each other's lips on yours, loving to taste each other. to eat each other up, to your last breaths.

with a few last grinds of your boyfriend's hips on yours, you both moaned into each other's mouths while your highs took you over the edge, your breaths echoing around the room with rhythm.

"i am... definitely not cold anymore." he chuckled while he pressed his forehead against yours and placed a few strands of your hair behind your ear carefully.

"yeah? so i can finally get my cold hands under your shirt?" you ask while being unable to help your cheeky grin as you still tried to catch your breath.

"oh. that was not what i was saying― y/n!―" before he could finish talking, you had already jumped the boy and swept your chilly hands on his back while you both laughed and he tried his best to wiggle himself out of your grasp.

-

© kiztae, 2024

[4everdweeb]

4everdweeb’s reading list

june edition ๋࣭࣪˖🎐

happy june! hope everyone is getting some good sun. here’s everything i read in june! enjoy🩵

note this doesn’t include the summer reading list i posted in june which you can find here!

CW 18+ smut, minors dni

photos from pinterest // graphics by @pink-horizon & @cursed-carmine

STRANGER THINGS

eddie

simmer series — @upsidedownwithsteve gave me flashbacks when i used to work at a restaurant but i loved it

no ones ever? — @glassbxttless

spin doctor — @carolmunson

virgin eddie — @usedtobecooler

1405 peach tree lane — @rip-quizilla

eat me — ^ 🔥🔥

go fish — @elegantpaperoperatormaker

cotton mouth — @gracieheartspedro

cherry stems — ^ a reread 😍

you really got me now — ^

make me feel ft gareth — ^

ˋ°•*⁀➷ pt 2

up for the challenge — @madelynraemunson

just watch me series — @mediocredreams

the gift that keeps on giving — @punkrockmlchael one of my favs!!!

let me be your goodnight — @eddiesxangel

celebrity skin series — @cacoetheswriting 😛

hawaii baby — @elegantpaperoperatormaker

pretty little bat — @glassbxttless 🦇

teenage dirtbags — @vingtetunmars

are you bored yet? ongoing series — @eddiesghxst

an unexpected (k)night — @gaybybirth

ˋ°•*⁀➷ pt. 2

take me (home) — @chelseeebe

im gonna get you back — @eddiesxangel

steve

your biggest fan hater — @hellfire--cult amazing

love and passion — @munsonify

order #I — @ash5monster01

and i snuck in threw the garden gate — @upsidedownwithemmy crazy

blind date — @c4tluver02

he’s not your boyfriend — @harringtons-cupid

wet, hot, american nights ongoing series — @sacrilegesummer

how can we go back to being friends (when we just shared a bed) — @stevesgother

she’s always a woman — @lottevence

ˋ°•*⁀➷ pt. 2

steddie

honeys lemons and apple pies — @hauntedfawnn

senses fail series

hurry up and wait — @rebelfell

billy

stubborn — @bookshelf-dust

kiss it better — @buckysgrace

shock the monkey — @ordinary-barbie

coming attractions — ^

relationship guy — @ashwhowrites

heaven in hiding — @billysbabyy 💕

gareth

bandmates — @punkrockmlchael lovely reread of one of my fav

heart break girl — ^

argyle

high for this — @loveshotzz

SINNERS

remmick

all crossroads bound together — @freenightfall

gagged on grace — @vxncevis

will ye go lassie go? — @moonlight-presence

earned it — @feral4youu

bo chow

on my mind — @feral4youu

JACK O’CONNELL

oliver mello

love that devours in the flesh — @zstartrixxx

first of many — @vxncevis

GLADIATOR II

emperor geta

geta’s hands — @getaapologist

FANTASTIC FOUR

jq johnny

daddy johnny — @murdock-slvt

MATERIALISTS

henry castillo

glitz glamour gloom — @writeslikeanaria

closed doors — @sweetlovepascal

see u in july☀️

[spockvarietyhour]

Star Trek Prodigy "The Devourer of All Things Pt. 2"

[ameriize]

Pt. 3 (end!)

pt.1 pt.2 see my other fandoms!

pairing! : sub!anton x dom!reader

content! : masturbation(m!), handjob, pinv sex(finally), mouth kink, slight degradation kink, choking, gagging, mentions of spit, mommy kink(said it literally once), nipple play, begging, overstimulation, whiny!anton, desperate!anton, small chunk of fluff! at the end

p.s send in asks + attach an emoji with it ! (edited: they’re closed for now!)

time for fucking😈 also he a FREAK in this, acc lmnl both of you are….

it’s 9pm. on the dot. you hear knocking on your dorm room door.

you walk over and open it, not needing to ask who’s behind.

anton takes in your full image. you’re wearing a strapped top that clung to your boobs, and little tight boxer briefs, that made it impossible for him not to stare at your plump ass when you turn around to lead him in.

you tell him to sit on the bed, then you take your seat in your chair opposite and face him. you notice he’s more shy than usual, and he’s struggling to keep eye contact. he’s so nervous, you think.

now it’s time for you to take him in aswell. he looks so damn good in his white t-shirt, almost like it was purposefully smaller to accentuate his biceps and lean body, and plaid pyjama bottoms. he’s manspreading, it being in his nature, and your core’s already pulsing. you couldn’t wait to devour him.

“so were you good for me?”, you ask, lifting one of your legs, to rest your chin on. your clothed cunt was practically eye fucking him. he clears his throat to remain composed. you stare at him through your lashes, intensively, hoping to break him down to prevent any dishonesty. it’d be pretty disappointing if he really did touch himself because unfortunately for him, you’re a woman of your word.

“yea. it was hard but i waited for you.”, he replies, attempting to maintain the eye contact.

“i had faith you’d be my good boy. well done, puppy.”, you smile.

your praise goes straight to anton’s dick. he shifts uncomfortably. he really wants you to have your way with him now.

“if we’re being honest, i couldn’t wait for it be 9 pm and see you.”, you express, “all i thought about in my lecture was everything i wanted to do to you. kiss you, lick you, bite you. and fuck you... did you think about me too?”

think about you is an understatement. he’d spend every minute of the hours he was waiting just obsessing over this. and the time in the empty room before hand. it’s a miracle he didn’t immediately jerk off when he came back to his room. but his need for you overweighed his need for instant gratification.

“i couldn’t stop thinking about you. i tried to distract myself by playing some games but they didn’t really help.”

it makes you feel so good that he was as desperate for you as you were for him. it also makes the air thick with tension.

“was what you were thinking about the same as what you usually think about when you jerk off to me?”, you ask, softly but with intention of teasing.

anton licks his lips slightly, and nods shyly. he realises he’s probably going to have to tell you about all his fantasies and that scares and excites him at the same time.

you cock your head to the side and your expression falls, as a gesture to prompt him to continue speaking. he knows you’re gonna want more than just a nod.

“i thought about all the things i wanted you to do to me.”, he starts, “like kissing me and… touching me...”

“touching you where?”

he lets out a soft huff and barely bites his bottom lip.

“on-on my dick. and my mouth… and nipples…”, he continues, trailing off at the end.

“wow so slutty of you, tonnie.”, you tease.

increasingly more eager, you wheel your chair just a little closer to him and stretch out your foot to land on his semi-hard on. he jolts a little at this, taken aback by your sudden action. you begin to rub his dick at a leisurely pace, watching as he hangs his head down, wincing and letting out small gasps.

“please.”, he whines, looking up at you through his lids.

“not yet, puppy.”, you remove your foot and cross your legs.

“i want you to touch yourself like you normally would in your room.”, you say in a playful tone.

it’s like you want to kill him with embarrassment. how is he going to jerk off thinking of the girl he’s been obsessed with infront of the girl he’s been obsessed with? but he can’t ignore how his dick twitches at the idea of you watching him.

“w-wouldn’t it be better if you just touched me and took what you wanted from me? masturbating infront of you is a bit…embarrassing.”

“i know baby, that’s why i’m doing it. and besides, you doing this is probably gonna be the least embarrassing thing i make you do this night. so take off your trousers.”

hesitantly, he obeys. when you nod for him to start, he begins by palming himself through his black Calvin Klein boxers. you watching him intently gets him fully hard and needy. his breathing, getting heavier, increases in pace, aligned with the motion of his hands.

“pull down your boxers and tell me what you’re thinking of.”

so he does. his dick springs free and slaps against his stomach.

and fuck does he look good. it’s fairly long, girthy and covered in bulging veins, with a throbbing flushed red tip. he’s already leaking and twitching. it takes everything in you to not go over there and shove it down your throat.

anton notices your stare, and feeling slightly more confident, he starts to run his hand up and down his shaft.

“i’m thinking about your hands. your soft warm hands— mmm!… i wanna feel them on me, caressing my chest, and- and squeezing my neck, then trailing up to my lips.” his grip tightens around his dick, as he gets deeper into his fantasies.

“you want me to fuck your mouth, don’t you?”, you ask, in a low tone.

“yes fuck— i want you to make me gag on your fingers— mmphh!… while you’re stroking my dick with no mercy.”, he whines out, keeping his eyes on you.

“go faster baby.”, you order, while heat builds up in between your thighs. you clench them together to relieve some of the tension.

his hands move faster now, relentlessly, moans increasing in volume and frequency.

“focus on your head.”, you order.

he obeys once again.

he glides his fingers back and forth over his sensitive tip, causing him to whimper shamelessly. ugh this feels so good, he thinks.

“baby, i need you. i need you to ride me while your hand is over my mouth, forcing me to shut up and take it. i need you to make me cum over and over again until you’ve had enough. i want you to force me to take everything you give me.”, he confesses, eyes threatening to roll back.

it all feels too much for him, with you staring at him and the stimulation from his tip.

“go back to the base of your dick. imagine it’s my pussy you’re fucking. you’d like that wouldn’t you, puppy?”

he nods rapidly and begins stroking his base again, strings of moans and whines falling out of his mouth. his head tips back, feeling every single stroke. the thought of him actually fucking your pussy he’s been dying to feel brings him so close to the edge.

“shit shit nghhh i’m so close im so fucking close! can i cum baby please? i need to cum so badly. i wanna cum for you.”

he’s so cute asking for permission, you think, he really is submissive, through and through.

“don’t cum until i tell you to.”, and with that, you get off your chair, and start stroking his dick, at a swift pace.

the sudden contact triggered a plethora of high pitched ‘fuck’s and ‘ahh’s to release from anton’s mouth. getting what he had so desperately been wanting for so long felt like pure heaven and he never wanted it to end.

you grab his brown locks and force him to look up at you. tears are starting to brew in his eyes, and he’s never looked so adorable.

“kiss me. please.”, he says desperately.

you lean in, landing your lips on his. it’s slow and passionate, his moans swallowed by you. your tongue finds your way in his mouth, and dances with his own. hunger and need drive the kiss to being more wet and sloppy, spit running down his chin. you bite and drag his bottom lip slightly then lean back to look at him.

“you want me to fuck you, huh? you want me to put your pathetic little dick, that you’ve been desperately rubbing to the thought of me, inside of me?”, you spat, your more rough side unleashing.

but anton doesn’t mind. infact he loves it.

“shit yes! please, please fuck me! ahh! i’m so close, baby i can’t hold it anymore, please let me cum. i’ll be so good!”

you increase your speed, his eyes rolls back in response and his hips are shamelessly thrusting into your hand. unsure of how much more he can take, he grips the sheets and squeezes his eyes shut hoping to ground himself until you give him permission. what a good boy, you think. you lean into his ear and give it a small bite, causing him to let out another one of his moans.

“cum for me, tonnie.”

and he did just that. his hips jerk up as he paints both his stomach and your hand with his white strings of thick hot cum. his moans continue until he calms down from his high, as you watch his chest slow in movement.

to your suprise, anton takes your hand, the one that’s been painted with his load, and brings it to his mouth. his eyes remain on yours as he drags his tongue up your fingers then slowly forces them through his plump lips, that are curled up into a mischievous smile. he swirls his tongue around your fingers collecting his cum and swallowing it with a small ‘gulp’. he looks up at you pleadingly, like he wants you to take over.

ignoring the fact that your briefs are soaked by now, you bring your free hand to place under the side of his jaw, caressing his face. then, you start moving your fingers inside his mouth, exploring around. wanting to take it slow at first, you begin to thrust in and out of his mouth, paying close attention to the way his tongue flattens against your fingers as they move out.

anton’s squirming at this point, with his eyebrows furrowed and whimpers failing to be held back. he’s hard again. seeing as he’s lost all sense of shame, he’s more determined to get what he wants.

“please be rough with me.”, he begs.

that is all you need.

your speed accelerates, your free hand now at the back of his head, grabbing those same locks from before. you aggressively thrust your fingers back and forth into his mouth, his reactions causing you to clench around nothing. as you ached for his dick, you increasingly become more restless. he’s full on whining and whimpering, with his hands pathetically grabbing onto your arms. you go further down his mouth, leading him to gag and choke on your fingers. his eyes are rolled back into his head, and his hips are jerking and thrusting in the air. this feels even better than he could have ever imagined.

“mmph! mmph!”, he moans.

you look down and see so much precum leaking from his dick.

you can’t wait anymore.

much to his disappointment, although it would quickly leave, you remove your fingers from his mouth. you tell him to sit up against the headboard and wait patiently. he listens and wonders what you’re up to, as he sees you head to one of the drawers on your desk. when you return with two pink fluffy handcuffs, his dick twitches.

“got these after my lecture. i was looking at getting some rope too but i didn’t want it to bruise your wrists. unless you’re into pain”, you explain, and let out a laugh at the last part. funnily enough, that doesn’t sound like such a bad experience to anton. but anyway.

you lift his shirt off and remove his boxers and as you were above to strip yourself, he offers to help you like you did to him. he puts the straps down on each shoulder then carefully drags his hands to the end of your top, sending shivers along your body, then finally lifts it off. he works his way to your briefs, not losing the opportunity to lightly squeeze your ass, flashing you a cheeky little smile. as he’s taking them off, he plants tiny little kisses down your thighs, adoring your body. wanting you more than ever, he rests his head against them and looks up at you.

“can i please you baby? puppy wants to make you feel good too.”, he asks, in the most whiniest tone.

as excruciatingly good as that offer is, if you didn’t get his dick inside you right this second, you think you might literally die. and that’s exactly what you tell him.

subtly sulking, anton shifts back against the headboard and lets you cuff his hands to it. you hold the condom packet to his mouth and get him to tear it open. once it’s placed on his stiff dick, you climb on top of him and hover over. what’s life without teasing anton?

“beg me to put it in. and do it good.”, you command, smirking as you look down at him. you relish in the way he whines at your order.

“please put it in, i wanna feel you around my dick. it’s all i’ve ever wanted. please fuck me baby. i don’t think i can wait anymore.”, he begs, looking at you with his cute puppy dog eyes.

“i think you can beg better than that, tonnie”, you persist.

you rub his dick against your soaking entrance, nice and slow. he winces and sucks in a breath sharply.

“baby! please please put my dick in you. i can’t take it anymore! i need you to fuck me, and mess me up and ride me so hard that all i can think about is you!”, he exclaims.

“your wish is my command.”, you say, and start sinking down his shaft.

the feeling of your soft warm walls completely enveloping his dick was a divine stimulation. he whimpers as you continue to take all of him in, becoming more vocal as you clench around him. his hands ball up into fists causing a violent rattle of the cuffs against the headboard. ohhh fuck me, he thinks to himself.

“mmmfuck.”, you moan, feeling him fill you up.

once you get used to his size, you begin to move up and down his dick, hands on his chest as support. you’ve never felt this good before.

as you continue bouncing, you both become more needy for each other. you lift his chin up slightly and start kissing him, tongues already intertwined. it was getting hard to breathe but neither of you care if it meant you aren’t apart. you trail your lips down to his neck, sucking and licking and biting, leaving behind marks and hickeys.

“ahhh fuck yes mark me up”, he moans. anton fails drastically at being composed, biceps flexing against the headboard as you continue to suck on his neck. to make matters worse, your hands have been caressing and pinching his nipples, making him even more sensitive. it’s like you were doing everything in your power to drive him crazy.

“does it feel good baby? want me to go faster?”, you entice.

“yes! please.”, he responds, eyes glossing over.

your pace quickens and quickens, moans from both of you filling the air. you stream your hands up to his bruised neck, and wrap them around. feeling him twitch around you, you apply more pressure. his eyes lose focus, while his tongue slightly lolls out of his small smile. he lets out ragged breaths, tears gathering on his waterline. eventually, you let go, allowing him to catch his breath. then, with a devious smile, you clench hard around his dick, wanting him to feel even more pussydrunk.

“fuck fuck fuckkkk you feel too good baby, i don’t know how much more i can take!”, he sobs, eyes rolling back and head tipping against the headboard. his fucked-out face triggers a new coat of your thick wet arousal around him. looking down at where you both meet has you moaning even more, then you’re back to kissing him.

“fuck baby you look so good right now. you’re filling me up so well, well done tonnie.”, you compliment, “well. fucking. done.” you say, arching your back then bouncing up and down in time with the words.

“hahhh—o-ohhh shitttt baby i can’t-i can’t- pleaseplease slow down. fuckkkk ahhh!!”, he whimpers, his hips jerking and thrusting up to meet you barely halfway. you groan at his movement, nearing your high too.

“shit please tell me i’m your good boy baby. i’ve been so good for you. fuckkk please!”, he requests, needing your praise to push him over the edge.

“y-yea, you’re my— ahhhh— good boy. all mine. my good boy.”, you say, though struggling with how well he was hitting your spot, “is my puppy close, huh? you wanna cum for me?”, you coo.

“yes yes yes! i’m so fucking close! let me cum baby please, i deserve it don’t i?”, he exclaims, hips changing to an irregular pace.

you continue to slam your hips down his dick, as you say, “you do deserve it puppy. come on, cum for me”, you lean in to his ear and whisper, “cum for mommy.”

with that, anton jerks his body up into you, releasing his heavy, warm load into the wrapper. oh how you wish he painted your walls instead.

much to his dismay, you still keep on going. the stimulation is enough to kill him.

“wh-what are you doing? why are you still— fuck! baby—nghhh—please stop!”, he bawls, his head switching from side to side.

“awww sorry tonnie, but it’s not fair if only you get to cum. so shut up and take it, like the good puppy i know you are.”, you command.

you speed up your pace even more, fucking him stupid. continuously hitting that spot that felt magnificent, you show no mercy to the fucked out boy beneath you, taking everything from him. you continue to suck and moan on his neck, your fingertips never leaving his swollen buds on his chest.

“f-fuck it’s too much! baby it’s too fucking much shit shit shit shit shit i’m cumming- i’m cumming again!”, he cries out, looking for your eyes.

luckily for him, you reach your high aswell. his hips smash into yours as you clamp down on him, your wet sticky juices running down his dick. both of you catch your breath as your hips still and heart rates slow down. you grab his chin and kiss him softly, then land a peck on his forehead.

“you did so good, my sweet boy.”, you praise him, causing a shy smile to plaster on his flushed-red face. he loves when you praise him.

leaning in, he initiates another kiss, never getting sick of the feeling of your soft lips. he could die like this. wanting to touch you, he makes a show against the restraints, sending you a sign that he needs them off.

“let’s clean up, shall we?”

now, you two are snuggled up under your covers, his bare chest against your bare back. your legs are intertwined with each other, head resting on his arm while his other is laboriously rubbing yours up and down.

“thank you.”, he says, kissing on your neck.

“anton, you don’t have to thank me. we did it together.”, you giggle.

“no no, i don’t mean just the sex. i mean for everything. for not running away when i told you why i stopped talking to you, and for even liking me back in the first place.”

“well, then you definitely don’t need to thank me. anton, you’re a sweetheart. you’re kind and considerate - any girl would fall for you.”, you express.

“i’m glad it was you.”

you hum in response.

“also…i wouldn’t have been in any place to judge myself. you’re not the only one who’d spend nights masturbating about someone they shouldn’t…”, you confess.

it takes him a minute to understand you, then it finally hits him.

“wait, really?!… i- when did- what?”, he says, bewildered.

“yeah…”, you say, swiftly wanting to move on, “anyway i’m glad i have you all to myself now… i think i liked you more than i would’ve admitted to myself.”,

“oh really? would you have done anything, back then, if i told you i was seeing someone?”, he teases, returning back from his previous astonishment.

“mmm… maybe cry myself to sleep? but then quickly get over it because i’m a bad bitch and men come and go.”, you joke, causing him to laugh.

“well, i’m here to stay.”, he expresses softly, kissing your shoulder then resting his head there. stretching your arm over, with a bashful smile on your face, you pat his head in response.

seems like it didn’t need to be another life.

a/n: and that’s a wrap!!! i reallyyyy hope you guys enjoyed this mini story, i never expected to be doing a continuation of a short drabble i made for the first time ever. i’m so incredibly grateful for all the support that’s been given to me, i actually do NAWT deserve it!!! again, lmk what y’all think in the comments, and PLEASE send in asks. have a look at my pinned post for other groups and fandoms i’m willing to write for. also if you wanna be a specific emoji anon, add that with your ask too or just send that in alone. and oneee last thing: “fuck me” was used as an emotion in this not just as an action, so maybe if you were reading and thought it was misused that’s why, if that even makes sense lol…. once again, thank y’all so much, i love and appreciate every single one of you guys🩷

[lieslostinsilence]

i'm willing to be wrecked Pt. 2

Author's note: sooooo I am back with the part 2. I deeply apologise that I took very long with this. I was struggling with writing the NSFW content but now I am gaining the confidence. I do welcome feedback or any thoughts! Enjoy~ Bye-um~ Description: Y/N wants to forget. Max makes sure she does—roughly, completely, and without apology. A night soaked in rain, desperation, and bodies colliding with nothing held back. She didn’t want soft. She wanted to be ruined—and Max never does anything halfway. 🔞 Smut-heavy. Emotionally charged. A little bit filthy, a little bit feral. Content Warning: explicit smut (18+), rough sex, fingering (f receiving), choking (consensual), hair pulling, spanking, dirty talk, rough language, one partner begging to be ruined, condom use, emotionally driven sex, size kink vibes, slight dom/sub undertones, reader discretion advised—you are in charge of your freewill of content, not me! Link for Part 1: i'm willing to be wrecked Pt. 1

As I turned around, the cold bite of raindrops trailed down my face, but I barely felt them. My eyes locked onto Max’s, searching for any flicker of hesitation—anything that would stop me from crossing this line. But there was none. His gaze burned through me like he already knew exactly what I needed.

Then, like a fuse snapping, he moved.

In a flash, he closed the space between us and caged me in his arms, body slamming against mine with a hunger that knocked the breath from my lungs. Every inch of his rock-hard body pressed against me, and I shivered—not from the cold, but from the raw heat that crackled between us. His grip was rough, like he couldn’t stand another second of restraint.

I gasped, and he used the moment to tilt my chin up with one hand while the other stayed anchored on my lower back, holding me firm against him.

“Look at me, Y/N,” he growled, voice low, almost feral.

My eyes snapped up to his, and I swore time bent around us. His stare darkened, pupils blown wide, jaw clenched like he was holding back a storm. We stood in the rain, soaked, frozen in this moment—our skin buzzing, our hearts pounding like war drums.

His eyes dropped to my lips. He licked his own, slow and deliberate, like he was already tasting me in his head.

“Emi…” I whispered, voice trembling.

That was all it took.

Max crashed into me—mouth devouring mine with a brutal kind of need, hands gripping, claiming. This wasn’t soft or sweet. It was possession. It was fire. Tongues tangling, teeth clashing, his fingers digging into my waist like he needed to leave a mark. And god, I wanted that.

I didn’t want to be kissed—I wanted to be ruined. I didn’t want to feel—I wanted to forget. I wanted to be fucked out of my mind until all I could feel was him. Until the pain, the weight, the ache disappeared under the violence of his touch.

And from the way he kissed me—hungry, reckless—he wanted the exact same thing.

Max’s kiss was fire and fury. It wasn’t love—it was hunger, control, raw possession. There was no patience, no pretense—only need. His teeth scraped my bottom lip before he sucked it into his mouth, and the growl that rumbled deep in his chest made my knees buckle. His tongue forced its way into my mouth like he owned it, and I let him. I wanted him to. Needed him to take whatever the hell he wanted and leave me too wrecked to think.

“Fuck,” he growled as he broke the kiss, his forehead pressing to mine, his breath ragged. “You really want this, Y/N? Want me to ruin you tonight?”

“Please,” I gasped. “I want to forget. I want you to wreck me.”

That was all it took.

Then, without warning, he tore his mouth away and bent, grabbing behind my thighs. I gasped, wrapping my legs around his waist as he lifted me effortlessly, water dripping from both of us as he stalked out of the rain and into the house like a man possessed.

Every step was rough, purposeful—his hands clutching my ass, grinding me against the hardness straining beneath his soaked trunks. I clung to him, letting myself be carried, letting the weight of everything—my thoughts, my heartbreak, the ache I hadn’t dared admit—melt into his strength.

He kicked open the bedroom door and tossed me onto the bed with a force that made the mattress bounce beneath me. My body splayed out, soaked dress clinging to my skin, hair dripping, lips swollen from his kiss. He stood at the edge of the bed, eyes roaming over me like he was deciding just how far he’d take this.

“Take it off,” he rasped.

I hesitated for only a second before reaching for the straps, peeling the fabric down over my body, exposing inch after inch of trembling skin. Max’s gaze was molten, jaw clenched, chest heaving. He ripped the vest from his body and shoved his trunks down in one motion, cock springing free—thick, flushed, perfect.

He didn’t wait.

He climbed onto the bed, grabbed my ankle, and yanked me toward him with a force that sent a sharp gasp from my lips. He didn’t ask, didn’t ease in—just shoved two fingers into me, pumping deep, rough, fast.

“You wanted to forget?” he growled, eyes never leaving mine. “Then let me give you something to remember.”

I moaned, thighs trembling, back arching as his thumb found my clit and circled it with ruthless pressure. I was already dripping for him, but he didn’t slow. He kept going until I was crying out, hips bucking into his hand, begging for more.

“Max, please—” I gasped. “I need you—I need it—”

“Say it.” His voice was low, almost threatening.

“I want you to fuck me,” I moaned, breathless. “I want you to ruin me.”

That was all he needed.

He grabbed my hips and flipped me over, dragging me to the edge of the bed. I barely had time to breathe before he slammed into me from behind, one brutal thrust that knocked the air out of my lungs.

I cried out, fingers clawing at the sheets as he filled me, stretched me, took everything.

He didn’t hold back. His pace was punishing—deep, hard thrusts that rocked me forward, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room, drowned only by my ragged moans and his groaned curses.

“Fuck, Y/N… you feel so good—so fucking tight—”

His hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back so he could bite along my shoulder, and I whimpered from the sharp, stinging pleasure.

“More,” I gasped. “Harder—don’t stop—don’t let me think.”

He growled, slamming deeper, hand moving around to choke me just enough to blur the edges of everything. It was perfect. It was chaos. My body shook under the pressure, pain and pleasure twisting until I couldn’t tell them apart.

Every thrust dragged me closer to the edge, my walls clenching around him, the tension coiling impossibly tight.

And then I shattered.

It hit like a wave, unstoppable and violent—my scream muffled by the sheets as I came hard around him, body writhing, walls pulsing. But he didn’t stop. He rode me through it, chasing his own high until he buried himself deep and let out a hoarse, broken groan, hips jerking as he spilled into the condom.

We collapsed onto the bed, limbs tangled, skin burning, lungs aching.

For a long moment, there was only silence—just the sound of our breathing, the faint patter of rain still falling outside.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, my mind was blissfully blank.

Max leaned over, pressing a kiss between my shoulder blades. Rough. Gentle. Possessive.

“You okay?” he murmured.

I didn’t answer right away. I just turned my face into the pillow, eyes closed, and whispered:

“Thank you.”

[vidalsbeloved]

HER TROPHY pt. 2

Rio Vidal x Female Reader!

Warnings: smut (literally), light degradation, orgasm denial, overstimulation (kinda).

Words written: 1.2k

Note: Idk why but I had a really hard time writing this part so I apologize for it being so short and boring and maybe confusing? I have no idea. I had to go back so many times and try and get inspired from part 1 lol. Anyway, enjoy!

It is late in the night when she returns to you— you stir in your sleep, feeling the buzz of her magic surrounding you, the fire igniting in your veins that sends jolts of wanton need through your being. But you don’t see her when you wake, disappointment flares in your stomach when the realization hits you that it’s another jest that Rio had settled up at some point and time since she’d last left. Making you think she was back when in reality, it was her way of torturing you since she couldn’t be there physically.

So this night to you felt no different, how naive of you not to realize that your back was to her. You feel the bed dip behind you and her breath ghosting your neck— you gasp, leaning back into her body as she places a kiss at your pulse. A hand came up to rest on your neck, tilting your head back to rest on her shoulder as the other drifted lower and over your stomach.

She reaches for the hem of your silky white nightgown and traces her sharp acrylic nails across the skin of your thighs, you buckle against her and whimper, feeling a heat building between your legs.

She nips your ear with her teeth and laughs against you, “Needy little thing, aren’t you, trophy?”

You nod against her, sighing when her touch inches your gown higher up your thighs, achingly close to your barely exposed center. You grip the sheets below you when her fingers make contact, tracing the outline of your underwear.

“Rio,” you gasp. “Please..”

She cups your aching center and scoffs, “How pathetic, baby girl. I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already drenched..”

The hand on your neck drops, and suddenly, with a flick of her hand your undergarments are pulled from your body and her hand is burying itself in your folds. One of your hands reaches to grab the back of her neck and she lets you— pressing your lips to hers in a desperate needy kiss. Her teeth nip at your lower lip, drawing whimpers from you.

Her free hand grips your hips, stilling your movements and you mewl into her mouth— she pulls back just enough to look into your eyes and when she does, they are dark and filled with lust. You swallow and pull at her again, drawing her back in. She doesn’t let you, her grip on your hips tightening.

You look up at her, your eyes pleading, desperation taking over as the heat inside you builds— your shallow pants fill the air surrounding the two of you and all you want is the feel of her body against yours. The look in her eyes as she stares at you is nothing but predatory, as if at any second she would devour you all in one go. You watch as her eyes drift over your form and watch the way you desperately try to jerk your hips to meet the thrust of her fingers.

She bites her lips as her gaze travels back up to your big doe eyes and with a low growl she’s pulling her fingers out of you, tearing apart your nightgown and pushing you down onto the bed. She’s feral in her moves, but you know you’ve got her.

Her hands grope you as she dives down to nip and suck at your neck and chest, leaving her mark on your skin. A reminder of who is in charge. Of who you belong to. And what you are to her. A trophy.

You belonged to her, you always would. And though part of you despised yourself for being so willing to walk into her with open arms— you couldn’t resist. The pull you felt in your stomach denied your resistance, your want to stay away. Because you were bound to her, her mark upon your skin by her knife, her power tethering you to her very being. She owned you and though you hated it you couldn’t help but also love it.

She kisses her way down your stomach and over your hips, nipping at your skin and sucking marks. Her hands tweaking your nipples as she made for your thighs, pulling them apart and over her shoulders. She sucks at your inner kneecaps, then bites, listening to your gasps of pain as she travels higher and higher until she’s where you want her most.

Her breath on your aching cunt is already enough to have you mewling and arching your back— she chuckles darkly against you, teasing you as she leans in to lick up your slit, purposely, slowing down to tease you as she grazes your clit.

“Rio,” you mewl.

She hums, then does it all over again, deliberately, slowing to edge you, knowing it was driving you crazy. You reach out to fist your hand in her hair, but she grips your wrists and pins them down at your sides, digging her nails into your skin in warning.

She pulls back, looking at you through dark luscious lashes, “Such a needy girl, aren’t you? Can’t even keep your hands to yourself.”

“Rio—“

“Hush,” she whispers. “Be a good girl for me, can you do that? Or are you too needy?”

You nod and she smiles sadistically, cooing, “I knew you would be.”

She delves back into your cunt, sucking your clit into her mouth and holding your hips as they jump to meet her tongue. She chuckles against you, eyes straying on your form as she devours you.

A single tear stream down your face, the pressure of her presence, her power, and her pleasure crashing over you in waves, becoming too much. And you love it.

Her tongue flicks over your clit, then sucks harshly. You whimper, calling out Rio’s name as she nears you to the edge— only to pull back when she feels you pulsating on her tongue. Your gargled moans fill the air as you search out her presence, the feel of her on you.

She climbs up your body, taking your wrist in her hands and pinning them above your head in a suffice grip. Her breath fans your skin and your eyes meet, her eyes are dark and filled with an intensity that sends shockwaves of pleasure down to your core— forcing your hips to jump, and her grip tightens.

“You are mine,” she growls the words out, possessively, the hand on your hip coming up to wipe away your tears.

You nod once as she rubs your cheek, eyes softened.

“Yours,” you murmur.

Her eyes search yours— finding that familiarity, the truth of your words. “So beautiful,”

And then she’s kissing you again growling, all her softness gone just as quickly as it was there. “Mine.”

And she brings you to the edge, once, twice, three times more— taking you over and over again until she knows you won’t be able to walk the next morning. Her marks on your skin were a reminder that you were hers and hers alone. That if anyone ever laid a hand on you, she’d know.

For you see, being Deaths Trophy, was a gift. A gift to cherish for centuries, because just as you were special in her eyes, she was special in yours. You loved her. Whether that be against your will or not, you were.

You lay there, naked in Death’s arms, her enveloping you in such a way nobody in the world would. Her grip taut as she presses kisses to your head and whispers sweet nothings into your ear. Lulling you, until you are fast asleep.

She untangles herself from you, kissing your head once, whispering. “I’ll be back, my trophy.”

And then she’s gone, but her kiss lingers.

[charlizelesso]

Girls night secret pt 2 (18+)

Emily prentiss x reader

Part 1

A/N you ask and I deliver a part 2 with emily getting a little something in return😉

Content; smut, oral, fluff, aftercare, emily prentiss being an absolute softie

You must have drifted off for a minute because the next thing you know Emily is curled in behind you gently rutting her hips into you almost subconsciously, quickly you make up your mind about what you are going to do about it. You sit up quickly and swing your leg over emily's torso much to her surprise and she gasps “what are you doing baby” she looks up at you a glint of confusion in her eyes but also something deeper, you grind your hips down against hers and lean forward to whisper in her ear “I am just returning the favor because you took such good care of me”. Her eyes roll back in her head and she moans out loud before she can stop herself as you continue to move your hips on top of hers. She pushes her hips up to meet yours in a desperate attempt to gain more friction “please baby if you are going to do this I really need you to touch me”, much to your surprise she grabs you hand and brings in down between her legs and you gasp when you fell just how wet she had gotten from just getting you off.

“Oh Emily, what has got you all worked up like this?” you coo at her and she just squirms under your hips and cries out “I have wanted you for so long baby and I really need you to do something about or I may actually combust”. You are more than happy to oblige and so you run your hand between her legs and start to gently pull down the underwear that she is still somehow wearing. As you slowly pull them down you leave kisses across her thighs and down her legs you struggle to refrain yourself from just devouring Emily there on the spot. Next goes her bra as you reach behind her to undo it before slowly pulling the straps down her arms aiming to draw it out and tease for as long as possible before flinging it over your shoulder. You cannot help but stare at her newly exposed flesh and those breasts that you had fantasised about more than you would like to admit, especially when she wears those low cut shirts that make your mouth water. After a minute you snap out of your trance and you start leaving marks all across her neck and chest, licking and sucking marks into her skin hoping to leave her with some sort of lasting memory of the evening.

She is lost in the pleasure of you finally touching her as you continue to swirl your tongue around her nipples and nip at her breast, as soon as she realises what you are doing she shrieks “baby please don't leave marks we have to go to work tomorrow” she pleaded but made no effort to stop you. You noticed how sensitive her nipples seemed to be so you played into it alternating nipping and sucking on them giving the other one attention with your fingers tweaking and pinching until she was a writhing mess underneath you pleading for more. Eventually you give in moving down to her torso where you continue to worship every inch of her body from her toned abs to the top of her pubic mound leaving sloppy open mouth kisses that had her panting and begging for more “please baby you are killing me please I need you, I need your mouth on me please” and who are you to refuse her.

You continued all the way down her body until you reached the point between her legs that was so sopping wet that you gasped, you didn't have long to think about it though because Emily had obviously grown impatient. She grasped you by the back of the head forming a fist in your hair forcing you to put your mouth on her. You didn't complain though diving straight in, alternating between taking long hard licks and then focusing on her clit sucking it into your mouth. The sounds she's making are absolutely sinful spurring you on even more as you devour her, you run your tongue around her entrance before pushing your tongue inside of and she lets out an almost pornagraphic “oh baby you are going to make me come so hard just keep going right there, yeah just there, oh fuck baby yes” you can feel her tence around your tongue and she shudders as she comes. “I am coming baby, good girl keep going, oh god!” her back arches off the bed as she comes hard against your mouth, you work her through her orgasm until it becomes too much for her and she pulls you away with a fistfull of your hair.

You lift your head with a shit eating grin on your face, she pulls you down into a fierce and passionate kiss tasting herself on your lips, eventually she begrudgingly has to pull away to catch her breathe and you settle your head on her bare chest listening to her breathing curling up into her in a way that was far to domestic for a one night stand yet she still wraps her arm around you and draws you closer. “Thank you again Em, I truly never knew sex could be like that, you have no idea what you have done for me” she runs her fingers through your hair, “honestly I am glad this happened” she mutters against your hair “ you have no idea how much I have wanted you these last few month but you were so much younger than me and I guess it would have been complicated with work as well, but mostly I don't think you would have been interested in me”. She looks away almost ashamed, you sit up to look her in the eyes before responding “Emily Prentiss you are quite possibly the hottest women I have ever met in my life, I had the biggest crush on you from the moment I first walked into the BAU, if anything I thought you would have never been interested in me!”.

Emily just chuckles “well thank god for wine and JJs inappropriate questions then” you smile at her before having a sudden realisation “oh god what do we tell JJ and penelope tomorrow at work, what if they can tell?”. She thinks about it for a second and you could swear you see the cogs turning in her head “would it be such a bad thing? Obviously I am not suggesting that we walk into work holding hands tomorrow or anything but this meant something to me, you know that I am not exactly your age or getting any younger and I have not connected with someone like this for a very long time so I guess what I am trying to say is that maybe if you wanted to we could see where this goes outside of this evening I would want to too”.

You have to try and stop yourself from laughing at her “Is big bad section chief Emily Prentiss trying to ask me out” she rolls her eyes and playfully slaps you arm “you don't have to make fun” she pouts. “ Emily there is nothing I would love more than to go out with you, you are literally every sapphic woman's wet dream” she hides her face in your neck at the compliment and you take it as an excuse to snuggle up into her. “Do you want me to go home?” you ask timidly hoping that she doesn't ask you to leave, she turns her head to look into your eyes like you just asked her to kick a puppy. “ I am not letting you out of my bed right now even if you wanted to” you have to try and hide the big smile spreading across your face as she possessively pulls you into her “I will set an alarm for the morning so I can drive you back to yours before work tomorrow”, your heart flutters at the gentile domesticity and allow yourself to fall asleep head tucked in her chest as she runs her fingers through her hair smiling at how the decision to invite you over to girls night had lead to you curled up in her bed with the promise of more.

[hahnslove]

LUSTFUL LESSONS PT.2 [+18] ⋆˚࿔

CONTAINS: agatha!professor, femreader!agathaharkness, age gap, wlw smut, mommy kink, oral sex, office sex, car sex

SUMMARY: after hooking up with your professor, she's going to take you to her house, but you don't make it far

WORD COUNT: 1,100

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

“You can just call me Agatha.”

“Okay, Agatha,” you say, carefully pulling down her pants without breaking eye contact. You discard her pants with the other piles of clothing. As you work your way up to her underwear, you gently grab her hips and softly nip and suck at her high inner thighs, taking your time. Agatha slightly twitches in her chair but closes her eyes and leans back in the chair. “Look at me, Agatha,” you order, starting to tug on the waistband of her panties.

She gazes down at you, her mouth agape, as you remove the remaining fabric. You are practically salivating at the sight of how wet she is for you. You pull Agatha a little closer, firmly gripping her thighs, and she lets out a whimper in anticipation. You finally dive in, fully savoring her taste. Agatha gasps at the contact and roughly tugs at your hair. Her heels dig into your shoulders, which gets you on even more on. Sobs of pleasure escape her mouth as you insert a digit inside of her while continuing to suck her clit. You devour her as if it were your last meal, and the sounds coming from your professor are like music to your ears. You feel her start to clench around you and her thighs begin to tremble. You look up at her. “Come for me, Professor Harkness,” you say, and then reattach yourself to her. “Oh, fuck y/n.” Agatha moans. Before you know it, your mouth is filled with Agatha’s sweet, hot liquid. In that moment, you feel like the luckiest person alive.

“Christ, y/n,” Agatha breathes out. “I have never came that hard before.” She admits. You stifle a laugh as you compose yourself. “What can I say, I am the best after all,” you say as you grab her hands to pull her up and out of the chair. “I think I’m going to have to agree with you, love,” she replies as she gets up. You flash a warm smile at her as you slowly gather your things. “So… are you going to take me home or what?” You ask with a hint of mischief. “Meet me in the parking lot in 10 minutes.” She murmurs in your ear.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───

After leaving Agatha’s office you carefully make your way to the staff parking lot. Thankfully, by now it’s dark out; you’re leaning against a wall, patiently waiting for your professor’s arrival. You try to stay unnoticed as you watch other professors head out for the night.

You’re lost in thought when you hear the unmistakable sound of Agatha’s heels on the pavement; she gives you a look suggesting you follow her out to her car, discreetly. You make it to her car and slide into the passenger seat; she starts the car and you’re on the way to her house.

As she drives, you place a hand on her thigh. “What are you doing?” Your professor questions. “Oh, nothing,” you say as you casually move your hand higher on her thigh. You watch her as she attempts to maintain her composure while you tease her. The next thing you know Agatha abruptly pulls the car off to the side of the road and climbs into your lap. “Hi,” you grin, knowing you got to her. She wraps her arms around your neck and leans in slightly. “Do you think you can contain your libido just a little bit longer, dear?” Agatha murmurs, and you gulp at the closeness. “I don’t know, you’re just too hot,” you say with a smirk, leaning in a little closer; she pulls away, exhaling. “Okay, you win,” she says, and then, without warning, crashes her lips into yours; you let out a surprised yelp and laugh into the kiss. She moves to your neck as she leans back your seat.

Once your seat is fully back, she begins tugging at your sweater and pulls it over. As the cold air sends chills over your body, it’s quickly replaced by the warmth of Agatha’s hands, which graze over your body, causing you to arch into her touch. She begins sucking and nipping your chest, and your hands press on her scalp, pulling her as close as possible.

You guide her back up to your face for a kiss, and she takes the opportunity to unclasp your bra. She takes one of your breasts in her hand, grabbing it roughly and pinching your nipple lightly. You moan into her mouth as your tongues fight for dominance. You take the opportunity to lift your knee and press it into her center, which earns a groan from your professor. You bunch up her blouse in your hands and pull it over her head, then quickly unclasp her lace bra; you pull her up so her chest is above your mouth. You take a breast into your mouth, swirling your tongue around her nipple, Agatha whimpers from the pleasure. You shift your attention to her other breast, sucking and pulling on her nipple with your teeth. Agatha grabs your shoulders, groaning at your touch, and arches into you. With a pop, you release her nipple.

She kneels in front of you in the cramped car and hikes up your skirt. You gaze down at her as you lift your hips so she can slide your panties down. Agatha hooks her arms around your thighs and rests her hands on your hips, like she's ready to worship you. Agatha buries herself in your core; you tightly wrap your legs around her head, pulling her as close as possible. Her tongue enters you vigorously as her nose brushes your clit; you gasp and moan in pleasure. “Oh my God, m-mommy.” You whine. Agatha pauses her movements. “Shit, I’m sorry, Agatha; I didn’t mean to,” you ramble. “Say it again.” Agatha demands. You stare down at her in disbelief. “Mommy,” you say once more. “Good girl,” Agatha says before continuing her movements.

You gasp as she reaches up, grabbing one of your breasts, adding to your pleasure. “Mommy,” you whimper. You feel the vibrations of Agatha letting out a growl at the use of that word again. You feel yourself on the verge of climax; you squeeze your legs around her even tighter. “Agatha,” you cry out in pleasure as your orgasm washes over you.

As you feel a warm liquid flow down your thighs, you look down to see Agatha start to lick up the remainder of your juices. “You were so good for me, baby.” Agatha says, licking her lips.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .*:☆ﾟ. ───