#tw shadow primal

[dollgxtz]

I gotta know when you’re posting the Zayne CNC fic??? I’ve been checking your blog multiple times a day for it!

But realistically, no pressure 😂 I know writing is hard, and I can wait, lol. It’s worth the wait. I just want to show support for you and your craft. ❤️

Also, I love your yandere!Sylus fic! I’m only on chapter four and I see so many asks about it and I have to physically stop myself from spoiling it for myself, lmao. I’m so excited to read more! Your writing and your tics are a highlight of my day. 😊🥰

Edge Of Control

Word Count: 6.2k

Tags: zayne x fem!reader, cnc, cutting, tw slight blood, scalpel play, choking, biting, degradation, blowjob, degrading names, pet names like darling, pain play, home invasion roleplay, primal play, aftercare in the end

AN: Hi everyone! I know this was a LONG awaited fic but I wanted it to be absolutely perfect for my second husband ^0^. Also ty anon for the very sweet words! I hope this fic makes up for the amount of time you had to wait!!!

It was well past midnight, and the house felt eerily quiet without him. You lay on the couch, wearing nothing but a pair of Zayne’s boxers, the soft fabric a small comfort in his absence. A half-empty bottle of wine sat forgotten on the floor beside you, each sip doing little to calm the restless energy humming beneath your skin. The TV flickered, casting shadows across the room as you absentmindedly flicked through the channels, though nothing could hold your attention.

Your mind kept wandering back to Zayne, a dull ache settling in your chest. He was on another one of those grueling shifts—long hours with no word, no way to reach out to him. The pit of anxiety in your stomach tightened. You didn’t know exactly what his job as a surgeon demanded of him, but you could see it weighing on him more and more. His face had grown tired, the usual sparkle in his eyes dulled by exhaustion. You noticed the way his shoulders remained stiff, tension knotting in his body like a rope pulled too tight, barely holding it together.

Every time he came home like this, you saw it—the frustration simmering just beneath the surface. His body brimming with pent-up energy, adrenaline coursing through his veins with no way to let go. He was so tightly wound, like he was carrying the weight of a world you couldn’t fully understand. And every time you saw him like that, it broke something inside you. You wanted to help him. You wanted to be the one to take that edge off, to give him the release he so desperately needed but would never ask for.

You remembered the last time he came home with that storm in his eyes. Desperation had driven you to plead with him, to offer yourself as an outlet for all that tension, that frustration. You had begged him, your voice trembling, to let go, to take what he needed from you. But he refused. The worry in his eyes had cut deep, his voice firm but laced with guilt as he told you he didn’t want to hurt you.

That memory lingered now, thick in your chest. He was always so controlled, so careful. You knew he loved you, but there was a part of him that he kept locked away, too afraid to unleash it. But you wanted it—you craved it. You wanted him to feel safe enough to lose that control with you, to trust that you could handle it. That you wanted to handle it. But no matter how much you tried to reach him, he kept that wall up, afraid of what might happen if he let himself go.

You took another slow sip of wine, feeling the warmth of it spread through your chest, slightly loosening the anxious knot that had taken residence in your stomach. You always drank more when he was away—needed it, really. It dulled the sharp edges of worry that kept you up at night, made sleep feel a little less impossible. Without him beside you, the house felt too empty, and your mind raced with thoughts you couldn’t control.

Your eyes drifted shut, and the thought crossed your mind again—he could hurt you, if he wanted to. God, he was strong enough. His hands, so skilled and sure in the operating room, could easily push you beyond your limits if he ever let himself go. He knew the human body better than anyone; he understood exactly where and how to apply pressure, how to control every reaction. And then there was the scalpel—his precision tool of choice. He was so adept with it, using it in ways you’d never imagined.

You remembered the first time he’d worked it into one of your nights together, after you had begged him to try something more daring, something that would leave you breathless. He had been hesitant at first, but the results... God, the results. The thrill of that sharp edge glinting in the dim light, the cold metal kissing your skin before it pressed just enough to break the surface. You shivered as the memory washed over you, your body tingling with the vivid recollection.

The pain had been brief, but it was the anticipation, the unspoken threat, that had driven you wild. You could still feel it—the delicate line of fire it had traced across your shoulder, a stinging reminder of his control. And then the blade had hovered at your throat, a silent promise lingering in the air between you, making your pulse race and your breath catch in your throat. In that moment, you had never felt more alive, more his.

Your hand had barely slipped down to your heat when the sharp trill of your phone cut through the quiet. Heart pounding, you snatched it up, the suddenness of it snapping you out of your haze.

“Hello?” you answered, your voice a little breathless, still tangled in the memory of him.

“Is that offer still on the table?” Zayne’s voice poured through the speaker, low and worn, with that familiar undercurrent of exhaustion. But there was something else this time—something darker. His words dripped with a kind of danger, smooth and sweet like black honey, making your stomach flip.

You swallowed hard, a spark igniting low in your belly. “Uh, depends which one,” you managed, trying to play it cool as you sat up, bringing the wine bottle to your lips for another sip. Your heart was racing, anticipation thrumming under your skin.

“The one where I use you.”

The words hit you like a jolt of electricity, sending a thrill straight to your core. The raw need in his voice was unmistakable, and it struck every nerve you had. You faltered for a moment, caught off guard by the intensity of your own reaction. You tried to cover the sudden loss of words with another drink, the wine sliding down your throat as you let the tension stretch between you.

One more sip—just one more for courage. Then, finally, you answered, your voice steadier than you felt.

“Yes.”

“Is the wine good, darling?”

The question hung in the air, and your heart skipped a beat. “What?” you murmured, glancing around the dark living room. The flicker of the TV had left your eyes hazy, still not fully adjusted to the shadows creeping through the room. How did he know you’d been drinking wine?

Your breath caught as an icy chill swept through the house, raising goosebumps on your skin. Instinctively, your gaze darted to the front door, and your stomach dropped. It was wide open, swaying slightly as a gust of wind pushed against it.

You hadn’t heard a thing. Not the lock turning, not the door creaking. Nothing.

How had he gotten in without you noticing?

You stared at the door, frozen in place, watching as it swung shut on its own, the soft click of the latch echoing through the quiet. A chill ran down your spine as the realization hit—you hadn’t heard him enter on purpose. He wanted you to know he’d slipped in unnoticed, that he’d been watching you this whole time. Your mind spun with the thought: How long had he been there?

The phone slipped from your grasp, and you barely registered the sharp whine of the line going dead, drowned out by the thundering pulse of your heartbeat in your ears.

The soft but deliberate sound of shoes against the ceramic floor snapped you back into focus. Your senses sharpened, instincts kicking in. He was coming closer—fast.

In the low, flickering light of the TV, you saw him emerge from the shadows. Long strides brought him swiftly across the room, his form cutting through the dim light with an air of purpose. His form caught the harsh glow—the broad shoulders of his body, the sharp angles of his face—only partially revealed, but enough to make your breath hitch.

Then, without warning, the TV blinked out, plunging the room into complete darkness. The sudden silence was deafening. The sound of his footsteps, which had been closing in on you, vanished as if he’d disappeared into the night itself.

But you knew better.

He was there, somewhere in the blackness, waiting for you to realize it. The tension in the air was thick, every hair on your body standing on end as you strained to hear the slightest movement, feel the faintest brush of his presence.

You held your breath, every muscle in your body coiled tight. The tension crackled in the dark, your senses heightened by the weight of his silent presence.

Suddenly, the TV blared a sharp noise from the movie, flooding the room with light for just a second. And there he was, Zayne, only a few feet away—moving like a shadow, so silently it made your skin crawl. His face was bathed in the cold glow, and the way the light played off his sharp features made him look almost predatory. His expression was intense, dark, and unreadable, as if he was walking a line between control and something much more dangerous.

Your brain screamed danger. Fight or flight surged through your veins, heart hammering against your ribcage as self-preservation took over. Without thinking, your hand tightened around the neck of the wine bottle, the glass cool and smooth in your grip. Before you could second-guess it, you raised it high above your head and hurled it straight at him, instinct driving your every move.

But then—he catches it. Effortlessly. The bottle freezes mid-air, his hand snapping up to grab it as if it were nothing more than a tossed pillow. He doesn’t flinch. His stride doesn’t break. His hazel green eyes, burning with that same dangerous intensity, never leave yours for even a second. The best defense you could muster didn’t even make him blink.

Calmly, as though the act hadn’t fazed him at all, he places the bottle on the side table, his gaze still locked on you. The silence between you feels deafening as he closes the distance, his steps slow but deliberate.

Panic shot through you like a wild animal, adrenaline making your limbs tremble. But something else flared right alongside it—something that sent a pulse of heat straight to your core. It was fear, raw and visceral, but it was tangled up with desire, twisted into something you couldn’t quite understand but craved all the same.

You held your breath, every muscle in your body coiled tight. The tension crackled in the dark, your senses heightened by the weight of his silent presence.

Like prey trapped in the gaze of a predator, you couldn’t move.

Couldn’t look away.

And you almost didn’t want to.

You whip around, adrenaline taking over, and try to run—but you barely make it a few steps before it’s too late. You don’t even hear him behind you. The silence is terrifying, disorienting. Then, out of nowhere, his hand clamps around your elbow, and a startled shriek escapes your lips, cut off as he uses your momentum against you, spinning you sharply into the wall.

Your back collides with it hard, knocking the breath from your lungs. A whimper slips out, unbidden, from the shock of the impact. Before you can recover, Zayne’s voice, low and commanding, hisses in your ear.

“Don’t fight it,” he growls, the words sharp like a promise. “You asked for this.”

Panic surges through your body, instinct screaming at you to get away. “Let go!” you cry out, fear pulsing hot and fast through your veins. But your voice is weak, barely masking the excitement that’s battling for control inside you.

He doesn’t. Instead, he’s on you again, his mouth descending on your neck with a hunger that makes your pulse quicken. One of his hands grips your jaw with rough precision, calloused fingers pressing into your skin, holding you in place. You try to twist away, but he holds you firm, his touch demanding, possessive.

His lips travel down your neck, finding your pulse point first, then moving lower, grazing the soft curve beneath your ear. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and despite the panic swirling in your chest, a desperate whimper escapes. Your body betrays you, your hips instinctively rocking toward him, already aching for his touch. The heat between your legs flares, want burning through the fear.

His tongue traces a line down your neck, the warmth of it lingering only for a moment before the cool air chills the wet skin. Then his teeth sink into the muscle above your collarbone, not hard enough to break the skin but enough to make you gasp in pain. You wince, your body tensing as the sharp sensation rolls through you.

Your hand flies up to his head, fingers tangling in his hair as you try to push him off, your grip weak and trembling. But Zayne doesn't budge. His strength overwhelms you, his body pressing against yours with an intensity that leaves no room for escape. His breath is hot against your skin as he continues, relentless, leaving you caught between fear and an overpowering need that consumes you both.

"Zayne," you whimper. He releases his teeth from your neck with a chuckle that curls fear inside you…

His hands take your wrists, leading them above your head. You try to squirm out of his grasp. Partly because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of pinning you. Partly out of the fear of what he could do if you can’t push him away, his entire aura shifted to something more angry and dangerous than usual. 

"Don't pretend like you don't like it," he says into the angle of your jaw. He leaves soft kisses there while he effortlessly pins your arms above your head. He holds them there with one hand.

The other gropes and squeezes it’s way down your body. Your chest, your side, your waist. He grabs a hold of your hips, thumb perfectly lining up with the dune of your hipbone. He pulls your hips towards him harshly enough to draw a noise from your lips. He works his knee between your thighs, then pushes them open. He swallows any attempted protests with a kiss. His knee presses against your sensitive cunt and you whimper against his lips in response. 

“Oh, what happened to all the struggling?” Zayne mocks you, punctuating his words by squeezing your wrists hard enough to bruise. His hand comes up under your t-shirt and you shiver against the sensation of his fingers on your bare skin. You melt. Fucking putty in his hands.

You open your mouth to protest, to say anything that might break the tension or reclaim some of your control, but before the words can form, Zayne grinds his knee into your core. The pressure sends a jolt of raw pleasure through your body, and the only sound that escapes is a desperate, breathy whine. His reaction is immediate—he hums with satisfaction, his lips curving into a smug smile. He does it again, harder this time, and you can feel him reveling in the control, in the power he has over you.

Your mind scrambles to catch up with your body, which is already responding in ways you can’t hide. You try to meet his gaze, desperately wanting to say something sharp, something biting, anything to regain your footing. But the moment your eyes lock with his, whatever witty retort you had dies on your tongue.

His face is half-hidden in the darkness, but his eyes... there’s something in them that makes your heart stutter. Not just the hunger, not just the dominance—it’s deeper. There’s a flash of genuine anger simmering beneath the surface, something darker that you hadn’t expected, and it sends a ripple of unease through you. The intensity of it levels you, catching you off guard.

Suddenly, this feels like more than just a game. Warmth floods your chest, your body still responding to him in ways you can’t control, but a new sense of apprehension takes root. You’re playing with something dangerous, something unpredictable. The heat between you is no longer just desire—it’s the burn of real fire, and you’re not sure if you’re ready for the flames.

Your breath comes faster as you take in the sight of him. His chest rising and falling, his lips parted slightly, the way his muscles tense beneath his skin. You’re mesmerized, caught between the fear of what he might do next and the undeniable pull he has over you.

You take him in, eyes sweeping over the familiar lines of his body now that he’s standing in front of you. His white lab coat is gone, discarded somewhere behind him, leaving him in his crisp white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows as if he couldn’t be bothered to fully undress. His shirt is buttoned neatly up to the collar, accentuating his thick, muscular frame in a way that makes your heart skip a beat. The tie around his neck is still knotted, slightly loosened from a long day’s work, but there’s something disheveled about him now—something raw and untamed lurking beneath the polished exterior.

His dark slacks cling to his legs, perfectly tailored to his build, emphasizing his long leg now settled between your core. The soft fabric sways with his movements, while his polished shoes make almost no sound against the floor, their silence unsettling given the tension simmering between you.

His arms cage you in, closing off this small corner of the world to just the two of you. It feels like there’s nothing outside this moment, no one else but him—towering over you, his strength radiating off him in waves. The air between you feels thick, charged with tension and unspoken desire. Your gaze travels back to his face, meeting his intense eyes, and despite the weight of the moment, you can’t help but smile mischievously.

Without a second thought, you turn your head and sink your teeth into his arm, biting down just enough to feel the resistance of his skin, tasting the salty warmth of him. At the same time, you grind your hips down against him, pressing into the hardness beneath his slacks.

You expect him to react instantly, to snarl an insult or degrade you for your boldness. To throw out one of his usual threats—punishment, discipline—his voice dripping with disdain for your insolence, for the way you always push his boundaries. You brace yourself for it, for the sting of his words, the sharp crack of his tone that would send heat rushing through your body.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead, he goes completely still. The tension in his muscles shifts, tightening under your bite, but his silence unnerves you more than anything. You can feel it—the raw power coursing just beneath his skin, his body vibrating with restraint. His muscles flex under your teeth, taut with the effort of holding something back. You release your grip slightly, confused, nervous. But Zayne says nothing. He’s a coiled spring, quiet, calculating, like a predator biding its time.

Methodically, he moves, his hands sliding down your arms, his touch precise, controlled, like he’s performing surgery. Each motion deliberate, calculated. His fingers glide over your skin, and with each inch he covers, the nervousness inside you builds. His control feels absolute, every movement designed to unsettle, to leave you wondering what’s coming next.

Then his hands reach your head, enveloping it completely. His fingers curl around your skull, not rough but firm enough to make you feel small, trapped in his grip. His thumbs rest near your temples, steady, as if he’s taking his time to savor the way your breath catches. The weight of his touch presses down on you, making it impossible to move.

With one harsh movement, he’s pushed you down onto your knees. He undoes his belt and pulls himself free, his beautiful cock glistening with pre-cum. One hand presses hard into your jaw. Harder. His thumb pressing against the muscles there until you open your mouth for him. The head of his cock comes to rest against your lips.

The taste of salt and Zayne’s soap is too tempting to resist. He was usually such a giver, and when you went down on him, he always liked it slow. You lick up the length of his cock and he shivers in response. He drops his hands to your shoulders and you watch his forearms flex in pleasure. Your tongue swirls around his soft tip, and then you take him into your mouth soft and sweet.

Except... this time he doesn’t respond with shaking breaths and high pitched whimpers. Not even an utterance of your name. Insecurity flashes through you - you were sure this is how he usually liked it. Were you not doing well enough for him? You cast your eyes upwards for guidance, barely able to see him in the dark. 

“You really think that’s going to cut it?” His voice is cold and hard. Then his hands are on the back of your head, pushing you down onto his cock so fast and deep you almost gag. You pull away to drag a sharp breath into your lungs, abdomen muscles flexing.

 “You want to be fucked like a slut, you’re going to have to earn it.” He pulls you back down onto him.

Suppressing the urge to gag brings tears to your eyes, and it isn’t long until they’re falling down your cheek, mingling with the saliva making a mess of your mouth and chin. Wet, choking noises echo into the empty hall. When you start to slow, whimpering from the effort, he’s quick to pick up the slack. He thrusts his hips forward, pinning your head between him and the wall. You choke and gag around him, struggling to adjust around the brutal pace he sets, fucking your throat like you're nothing to him but a toy. Your hands come up to his hips, but he wrenches them away with a furious grunt. 

He pulls out suddenly, thick strands of saliva dripping off his cock. His breathing is hard and sweat rolls down the lines of his ab muscles. Your shoulders slump and you try to catch your breath. You’re absolutely spent. How humiliating that he didn’t even have to touch you to keep you wet for him, a vague sense of disgust emanating through your core.

“Was that good enough?” you weakly ask, but you might as well be begging him to fuck you for the look in your eyes. You don’t even bother to wipe the spit from your chin or the tears from your cheeks. You hope the sight gets under his skin so he can fuck you just as rough as he did your throat. 

“I don’t buy it,” he says. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and frustration. 

“What?” 

“I just don’t buy that you want me to fuck you.” 

You’re about to ask what you can possibly do more to prove it when something hard presses against your warmth, pushing your soaked boxers against you. You look down do see Zayne presenting his shoe. Polished and tightly tied, the mere sight of them gave obvious impression of what he wanted from you. But why?

You look up at him, but all he does is look back at you, expectantly. Your can feel the heat creeping up your neck as you adjust to straddle his shoe. You keep hoping he’ll just end your suffering by mocking you for even considering it, but it never comes. The cold, hard leather against you sends a wave of electricity through your body. Your hips are moving on their own. Your body desperate for anything it can get, chasing it’s high no matter how humiliating. You turn your face away from him, unable to stand him looking at you like this. Grinding against his shoe... 

“There they are. My desperate little darling,” his voice has the first touch of warmth it’s had all night. It’s enough to spurn you on, the heat coiling in your abdomen. You pick up the pace against your will, your body chasing ecstasy like an uncaged animal. And Zayne just watches you, expression never changing, never reaching down to touch you. God, were you really going to cum on his shoe while he looked at you like that?

He kneeled down to one knee, doing his best not to disturb your work. His strong hands take hold of your hips and push you harder against his shoe, dragging your hips up and down. You moan, tears collecting in your eyes again. You can’t believe you’re enjoying this. Even - no, especially because it hurt. You were getting closer, your moans coming faster. 

“Beg for it,” Zayne orders. 

“Please let me cum, Zayne, please!” 

“Tsk. Not that,” he pulls his shoe away like he's disgusted and you whimper in protest. Then, as if you were light as a feather, he’s tossing you to the side. You catch yourself on your elbows and feel them scrape against the ceramic floor. Your hips grind against the air as they searched for any friction at all that would send you over the edge. They found nothing. 

“Silly girl.” He sounds bored as he stands to his full height above you.

You watch as his hand pulls a scalpel from his pocket. It captures his full attention, glinting in the light of the TV behind him. When he speaks, it's almost to the room.

“Isn’t this your favorite part? Where you try and fail to escape?” 

You don’t move. He flips the scalpel in the air, catching it by the tip of the blade, and then again to catch it by the handle. He admires it as if it were the most beautiful thing in the world. 

“Start crawling,” he suggests. 

You push yourself onto tired, shaking limbs and try to get up. They give out on you. You pull yourself forward on your elbows instead. You hear the nearly silent creak of his shoes. The another. Then another. You feel small crawling beneath him, listening to the gentle whirl of the scalpel as he tosses it in the air. His shoes creak again, then again. 

You turned to look at him. You were almost overwhelmed at how he towered above you. His broad shoulders blocking out the light in the hallway. One hand busy toying with the scalpel, the other pulling his pants further down his hips. He was clearly taking his time.

“You ever wonder why you like to fight so much?” You watch shoe follow shoe in lazy strides until they were at either side of your ribcage, standing above you.

“Should I let you get away again?” he asks, but then he’s dropping to his knees, pinning you beneath him. Fear takes hold of your vocal chords and you make a desperate noise, pushing at his legs. “Will you just give in already?” 

With a calculated shift, Zayne turns your body to face him, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst from your chest. The tension between you crackles in the air, and before you can fully process what’s happening, his hand finds your neck, fingers wrapping around it with unyielding force. His palm presses against your throat, squeezing just enough to send a jolt of pain through you, sharp and undeniable.

"It takes about 10 seconds for pressure to the jugular to result in unconsciousness," Zayne says calmly, his voice low, almost clinical, as if reciting a fact from one of his textbooks. His grip tightens again, harder this time, and the sensation of control he wields is overwhelming.

The edges of your vision blur almost immediately, the world around you starting to fade. You feel lightheaded, like the ground is slipping away beneath your feet, your body caught in the thin space between pain and pleasure. But beneath the intoxicating sensations, panic begins to swell. The lightness in your head grows, and then you feel weightless, disconnected from reality as the darkness creeps in around your sight.

Your body starts to respond, instinct driving you toward the rising sense of panic. The pleasure and thrill that had mixed with the danger of it all suddenly feel too real, too much, as Zayne relentlessly pushes you to your limits.

You bring your hand up weakly, your fingers trembling, and tap his arm three times. The motion is small but deliberate, your safe signal.

For a brief, terrifying second, you wonder if he’s noticed.

He releases and you gasp for air. He lets you catch your breath, and for a minute you’re almost angry. But the growing wet between your legs betrays you to yourself, forcing you to admit you liked being pushed to the edge. An exhilarated smile picks up the corners of your mouth and Zayne, intently waiting for you to lead, just watches.

“More,” is all you need to say, and he’s on you again. Hand lighter on your throat, he brandishes the scalpel to catch your eye. It makes contact with your skin and you fight to control a shiver. 

It glides around your shoulder, then down your collar bone. The razor sharp point leaving a thin, red cut beneath the bone. You gasp, back arching into the sting. He withdraws. 

“If you keep squirming, I’m going to hurt you for real.” It’s as much a warning as it is a threat, and the dark rasp of his voice sends a chill down your spine. 

Then you go still again, he continues. The scalpel crosses your chest, taking it’s time tracing each and every one of your ribs. He draws a bead of blood there, before lifting the blade again. You moan, squeezing your thighs together to keep from moving your hips. The anticipation almost too much for you. But the movement catches his eye. He pockets the scalpel, and then he’s prying your thighs apart so hard you feel the ache in your hips. You try to shimmy away, but his hands hold your thighs fast against him. 

“I said hold still,” he grunts, squeezing his hands around the squish of your thighs hard enough that you make a noise. "What part of stop squirming do you not get?"

Your hand comes up to his hips, trying to hold them at a distance, but it doesn’t help. He pulls you closer to him and you feel his cock hard and leaking over your boxers. Fuck, you almost come undone all over again. Feeling him pressed against you like this... his cock easily reaching your belly button, reminding you how deep inside you he could be. 

“Zayne, please,” you whimper. 

“Please what?” He asks. You feel the cold blade against the tender, exposed part of your thigh. 

“Please fuck me.” 

He grunts, a noise that commits to nothing. He pulls the fabric of your boxers off your body and slips the scalpel beneath it. He cuts the thin fabric off of you in a show of strength and skill that intimidates you. 

He leans over you slowly, his hips pressed flush against yours, his cock pressed against where you want it most. A hand comes up to your face then, holding your jaw hard as he turns your face away from his. The scalpels beautiful surface approaches your cheek. Your breath picks up, fear coursing through you. He says nothing, and it makes it all the more terrifying. Your instincts freeze every muscle in your body. 

“You asked for this,” he reminds you, tracing the curve of your cheek. You bite your lip.

He pockets the scalpel once more, and you realize then that he's still entirely dressed, his pants only pulled down enough to fuck you. He shifts his hips, lining up with your needy hole. You’re already moaning for him.

“Begging me to use you like this, begging me to hurt you like this.” He pushes into you, your cunt struggling to adjust to his size. He only makes it a couple inches. He pulls out of you, then thrusts again, moaning as he does. This time when he pushes into you, he completely fills you. You both release an almost victorious sigh.

“Always fucking struggling. Can never just make it easy,” he growls, that angry look in his eye. His jaw flexes. Your cunt tenses around him.

He thrusts into you again, and again, so hard it feels like he could fuck you in half. He dips his face into your neck, moaning.

"You want me to force you onto my cock." His voice tightened with effort, but never lost that black-honey edge. "Can't say no to you. Do this because I love you."

You reach up and cling to his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric. His words shouldn't thrill you, but they did. Your eyes flutter closed. Your body shook beneath him.

“This is messed up,” Zayne’s hips start to pick up their pace. You wrap your legs around him, encouraging him, pulling him deeper into you. You find yourself moaning his own words back at him; so messed up, so messed up. 

Fuck, he felt so good. The two of you dissolved into senseless babbling, saying whatever it took to push each other closer to the edge. A meaningless cloud of fuck and just like that and you begged for this until neither of you could form words at all. Your pace became erratic, moaning into each other’s necks, limbs tightening around each other as you both approached your highs.

“Fuck, fuck, m’so-” you barely manage, panting and moaning through your words. Your thighs tighten around him and he groans in response. 

And then you’re coming undone together. His hips driving his cock as deep as they can with the primal need to fuck his cum deeper inside you. You take it, greedily, breathlessly as your own climax rocks through your body like an earthquake. 

He rests his forehead against your chest while he pulls out of you, then collapses onto the cool ceramic floor of the hallway beside you. He turns you onto your side and buries his head against your back, forearms tight against your chest while he hugs you close to him. 

“I didn’t think,” you take a deep breath, trying not to pant through your sentence, “that when I asked you to use me after your work shifts, that it’d be like that.” 

“Bad?” He asks, his voice uncharacteristically small. 

“No, no,” you rush to recover the situation. You lace your fingers with his, “Of course not.” 

He says nothing. You turn to look at him, and there’s that distant, tired look on his face. 

“Are you okay...?” 

“I will tell you about it soon, darling” he says. You hum as acknowledgement, wishing you could say anything, but feeling like nothing was the right thing to say. Instead you just let him hold you for awhile. 

Zayne held you close, his body a solid, comforting weight against yours, his bodily warmth gradually soothing the whirlwind of sensation still buzzing under your skin. But then, you felt him shift. His fingers, cold and precise, began to ghost over the cuts he had made, tracing the delicate lines he’d etched into your skin with surgical precision. You shivered at his touch, a soft gasp escaping your lips.

His eyes softened, and in a voice barely louder than a whisper, he said, “I need to tend to these.” His words were gentle, but firm, a quiet reminder of the care he always took with you, even now.

He pressed a tender kiss to your temple, the warmth of it contrasting with the coolness of his fingers, and then he pulled away. You watched him button his pants, his movements deliberate but unhurried, before disappearing down the hall. Even through the exhaustion weighing you down, you heard the faint sound of him rummaging in the bathroom, retrieving what he needed.

When he returned, Zayne knelt beside you, his medical kit in hand. His usual calm, professional demeanor was still there, but this time it was softened with a tenderness only reserved for you. Gently, he began to disinfect the cuts, his touch as light as it was thorough. The sting of the antiseptic bit into your skin, making you wince, but his hand found yours, his thumb brushing reassuringly over your knuckles. It was a silent promise: I’m here, I’ve got you.

With every stroke of the gauze, every carefully placed bandaid, Zayne’s focus never wavered. His gaze remained trained on you, on the cuts he was tending to, but there was something deeper in his expression—something protective, almost reverent, as though he was caring for a part of himself.

When he finally finished, he sat back slightly, his hand resting on your arm, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you were truly okay. You could see the tension from earlier still lingering in the set of his jaw, the concern etched faintly into the lines of his face.

“I’m okay, I promise,” you murmured, your voice heavy with exhaustion, your body finally giving in to the weight of the night. Your limbs felt like lead, but your heart fluttered at the care he was taking with you, the gentleness of his hands now so different from the intensity you’d felt earlier.

“I’m just…so exhausted now” you sigh, briefly closing your eyes as another wave of tiredness washed through you.

Zayne’s expression softened into a small smile, one so full of adoration it made your chest tighten with affection. He stood, helping you up with careful hands, supporting your weight as he guided you to the couch. His arm stayed wrapped around you, keeping you close, steadying you as he laid you down gently, as though you were something fragile.

He settled in beside you, his body curling protectively around yours, pulling you against his chest. “We’ll clean up later,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead in a soft kiss. The warmth of his breath and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you, the scent of him comforting, grounding you.

You nestled deeper into him, the tension of the night melting away in his embrace. Wrapped in his arms, in the safety of his presence, your exhaustion finally caught up with you. Your eyelids fluttered closed, the world around you fading into the soft haze of sleep. And there, in the quiet of the night, you both drifted off together, tangled in each other, with nothing but the sound of your breathing and the quiet rise and fall of his chest.

[pin-k-ink]

would you be willing to write something for hoshina who comes home tired after a long day of work? he’s sexually frustrated and simply can’t help himself when he sees his pretty little girlfriend asleep on his bed

close of day // hoshina soshiro

tw ⇢ non-con, somnophilia, thigh fucking, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, manhandling, rough sex, overstimulation, squirting, mention of a blowjob,

wc ⇢ 1.9k

The muted click of the door locking behind him was a welcome sound to Hoshina's ears. The Vice Captain leaned against the cool metal, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of his quarters. Moonlight filtered through the half-drawn blinds, casting long shadows across the room and illuminating the unexpected sight before him.

There you were, curled up in his bed, the sheets tangled artfully around your legs. Hoshina's breath caught in his throat as his gaze traced the gentle curve of your shoulder, the soft slope of your hip barely hidden beneath the thin fabric. Your chest rose and fell with slow, steady breaths, your face peaceful in slumber.

A warmth bloomed in Hoshina's chest, spreading through his body and chasing away some of the day's weariness. He hadn't expected to find you here, thought you'd have long since returned to your own quarters. The sight of you, so vulnerable and trusting in his space, stirred something primal within him.

Hoshina's mind wandered to the events of earlier that evening. The memory of your soft moans, the taste of your skin on his lips, the warmth of your mouth around his cock. He had managed to squeeze in one round, leaving you stuffed full of his cum before he had to leave - it all came flooding back, igniting a fire in his veins. He'd left you reluctantly, duty calling as it always did, but now...

He moved into the room with careful, deliberate steps, not wanting to disturb your rest. His eyes never left your sleeping form as he approached the bed. The urge to touch you, to wake you with kisses and continue where they'd left off, was almost overwhelming. His fingers twitched at his sides, yearning to trace the soft curves of your body, to tangle in your hair.

But Hoshina resisted. You looked so peaceful, so beautiful in your slumber. He didn't want to wake you, didn't want to be selfish with his desires. Instead, he began to undress, his movements slow and measured. The rustle of fabric seemed impossibly loud in the quiet room as he removed his uniform, piece by piece.

With each layer shed, Hoshina felt his control slipping. The sight of you in his bed, the memory of your earlier passion, the promise of your warm body against his - it all combined to create a heady mix of desire and frustration. By the time he was down to his boxers, his cock was already straining against the fabric, a wet spot forming from the pre-cum that had leaked from his tip.

Hoshina moved to join you in bed, reaching for the blanket. He intended to slip beneath it, to curl his body around yours and try to find sleep despite his arousal. But as he pulled the cover back, a soft groan of frustration escaped his lips.

There you were, wearing nothing but one of his shirts, the fabric riding up to reveal the tantalizing curve of your ass. The sight sent a jolt of pure lust through his body, and he could feel his cock throb in his boxers. You were lying on your side, your thighs pressed to your chest just enough to let him catch a glimpse of your glistening folds, all swollen and dripping from their earlier activities.

Fuck.

The sight of you in his clothes, surrounded by his scent, was more than Hoshina could bear. He stood frozen, torn between his desire to touch you and his desire to let you rest.

He made the wrong choice.

Hoshina couldn't stop himself, couldn't resist the temptation. He was only human, after all. He needed to feel your warmth, needed to bury himself in your tight, wet heat. He would just take a little taste, just a quick tease. Then he'd let you sleep, he promised himself.

"Forgive me, princess."

His voice was a low growl, barely above a whisper. It was rough with need, with the effort of restraining himself. He couldn't resist the urge to stroke his hand over the curve of your ass, squeezing lightly. Your skin was so soft, so warm under his fingers.

Hoshina groaned softly, his cock twitching against his boxers. He reached down to palm himself, the friction of the fabric against his aching cock only adding to his torment. He couldn't help himself, couldn't resist the pull of your body.

He needed you.

Hoshina tugged his boxers down, his cock springing free. He hissed softly as the cool air hit his sensitive skin, but the discomfort was soon forgotten as he watched your pussy clench around nothing. A soft whimper escaped your lips, your hips grinding into the mattress.

You were dreaming, he realized. Dreaming of him.

That was his undoing.

Hoshina couldn't wait any longer. He had to have you, had to feel your heat envelop him. With one smooth motion, he knelt behind you on the bed, his knees nudging your thighs apart just enough to let his cock slide between your folds.

The feeling of your slick heat against his cock was like nothing else. Hoshina groaned, his grip tightening on your hips. He thrust slowly, his cock sliding easily through your wetness, coating him in your juices. Your thighs pressed together, giving him the perfect friction as he rutted against you.

You were so warm, so wet. Hoshina could feel your pussy pulsing around him, as if trying to draw him in. He ached to thrust into you, to sink himself deep inside your heat. But he didn't want to wake you, didn't want to disrupt the delicious torture he was inflicting upon himself.

"Oh, princess..." he moaned, his voice thick with desire.

Your thighs flexed, pressing even tighter around his cock. It was like heaven and hell, the pressure and friction driving him wild, but not enough to bring him over the edge. He bit back a curse, his control fraying with each passing second.

Just as he thought he couldn't take anymore, he heard your soft sigh, felt the shift of your body beneath his hands. You were waking, slowly coming to consciousness.

Hoshina froze, his heart pounding in his chest. What was he doing? This wasn't how he'd intended for the evening to go. But before he could pull away, before he could apologize, you were rolling onto your back and spreading your legs wide for him, his shirt bunched around your hips.

"Soshiro," you murmured, blinking up at him.

The last vestiges of his self-control vanished as soon as he saw you slip your hand between your thighs, small fingers spreading yourself open for him.

Oh god, you were going to kill him.

Hoshina was on you in a heartbeat, his lips crashing down on yours. The kiss was desperate, hungry, fueled by his pent-up desire. His tongue slipped past your parted lips, tangling with yours. Your moans were muffled as his tongue explored your mouth, his cock pressing against your entrance.

Without breaking the kiss, he thrust into you, bottoming out in one swift movement. You gasped against his lips, your body arching into his. Your pussy clenched around him, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.

Hoshina set a brutal pace, his thrusts deep and hard. He knew you could take it, knew you could handle his roughness. Your pussy stretched to accommodate him, your juices coating his cock and allowing him to slide easily in and out of you.

Your body fit perfectly against his, your curves molding to his muscular frame. He could feel every inch of you, your clothed breasts pressed against his chest, your legs wrapped around his waist. His hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

You broke the kiss, your head falling back as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

"Soshiro," you gasped, his name a broken moan on your lips.

"I know, princess. I know."

Hoshina's voice was rough, his breathing ragged. He was lost in the feeling of you, in the sweet, tight heat of your pussy. He could feel your walls fluttering around him, could feel your body responding to his every touch.

The room was filled with the sounds of your mingled pleasure, the creak of the bed, the slap of skin against skin. Hoshina couldn't get enough of you, couldn't get close enough. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of you, his teeth nipping at the tender flesh.

Your hands clawed at his back, your nails leaving stinging scratches that only heightened his pleasure. You were clinging to him, as if he was the only thing tethering you to this world.

Hoshina's rhythm grew erratic, his thrusts more desperate. He could feel the tension coiling inside him, his release building. He knew he wouldn't last much longer, not with the way you were milking his cock.

"Come for me, princess," he growled, his voice low and husky.

You shuddered in his arms, your body tensing as the first waves of your orgasm washed over you. Hoshina felt your pussy clench around him, your inner walls convulsing around his cock as you squirted, your juices running down his shaft.

He let out a low moan, his body rigid with pleasure. Without thinking, he quickly slipped out of you and turned you onto your belly. In a swift motion, he slid his cock back into you and continued thrusting. He felt a rush of power as you cried out, the sensation of him stretching you and filling you up again too much for you.

His pace was relentless, his fingers digging into your hips. He pounded into you, the bed rocking beneath the force of his thrusts. Your moans were muffled by the pillow, his palm firmly pressing your face down onto the mattress.

"You’ll let me fill ya up with my seed again, won't ya?"

The words spilled from his lips, the question more of a command than a request. He could feel his orgasm building, the familiar tingling sensation at the base of his spine. He was so close, so fucking close.

Your muffled response was lost to the pillow, but he felt your pussy clench around him again. You were coming again, and the knowledge pushed him over the edge.

With a hoarse cry, Hoshina buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he emptied his load into your tight pussy. You whimpered, the feeling of his hot, creamy cum filling you up sending you into another round of ecstasy.

Your bodies shook with the intensity of your orgasms, the pleasure so overwhelming that Hoshina had to catch himself from collapsing on top of you. After a moment, he gently pulled out of you, his cum oozing from your slit.

The sight of it, the proof of his claim on you, made his cock twitch with renewed interest. But his body was exhausted, his mind foggy with pleasure and satisfaction. All he wanted now was to hold you close, to drift off to sleep with your warm body pressed against his.

Hoshina laid back, gathering you into his arms and pulling you flush against him. Your back was pressed to his chest, his cock nestled between your ass cheeks. You were still trembling, small whimpers escaping your lips as you came down from your high.

"Shh, princess," he soothed, his voice a soft whisper. "I've got ya."

His lips brushed against the shell of your ear, his arm draped possessively around your waist. His other hand came up to cup your breast, his thumb rubbing slow circles over the fabric of the shirt.

You sighed softly, snuggling deeper into his embrace. Hoshina could feel his eyelids growing heavy, his breathing slowing. As sleep began to overtake him, the last thing he felt was the gentle press of your lips against his forearm, a whispered "good night" on your lips.

"Good night, princess."

[lynbichiots]

Bloodlust

pairing: Eren Jaeger x Fem!Reader

tw: hate sex, humiliation, hitting and fighting, murder, gore, overstimulation, hunter/prey, primal kink, masochism, blood kink, knife kink, sadism (both the reader and Eren are mentally unwell), creampie, squirting.

wc: 14.7 k

The sun sank slowly behind the horizon, setting the sky ablaze in shades of deep orange. The shadows of the camp trees stretched out, twisting in rhythm with the gentle breeze that brushed against your face, stirring the loose strands of your hair. That cold air, mixed with the heat still rising from the ground, felt like a warning, as if the day was dying only to make way for something darker.

You closed your eyes for a moment, allowing the moisture of the place to envelop you along with the small droplets of water that splashed your skin from the dock, though you barely felt them. On days like this, when everything seemed suspended in an almost unreal calm, your thoughts always betrayed you.

They dragged you back to those memories you hated, to those high school years when everything was more fun… until it wasn’t.

You hated those memories.

Annoyed, you bit the inside of your cheek, and the metallic taste of frustration filled your tongue as his image appeared in your mind. Those green eyes. The eyes that defined you, that ruined you. They still haunted you in a persistent way, an echo that never faded, even after all this time.

You could still hear him, his broken voice echoed in your nightmares every day, begging in a way that made you wake up with your heart pounding in your chest, making the air escape from your lungs.

There was no escape from him, not even in your dreams.

With an inward groan, you sighed, dropping your forehead onto your knees, and with your arms trembling, you hugged them with an almost childlike desperation.

Your nape tingled with a strange sensation that made you tilt your face back slightly, and when you adjusted to your new position, you saw him.

The air left your lungs slowly as you gazed in adoration at the man with brown hair tied in that messy bun, a cruel joke of your memory.

He wasn’t looking at you.

He couldn’t even see you.

He was just there, with his back to you, laughing with Sasha and Connie, oblivious to the storm raging inside you.

There, at that precise moment, you felt your hope die, causing you to turn forward again, abandoning your foolish assumptions to the depths of your rotten chest.

If that man had been him, he would never do something like that. He wouldn’t lower himself to laugh and play with the same people who had made it their mission to destroy him in school.

Not with them.

He wouldn’t do it.

The disappointment hit you like a cold stone sinking deep into your stomach, twisting your organs painfully. Still hearing their laughter behind you, you closed your eyes, curling further into yourself, unable to bear the joy of others.

You hated those laughs that shattered the heavy air while they played with the bow and arrows Sasha had brought for fun. It all seemed so absurd, so alien, and so damn fake.

Clenching your fists in anger, you retreated again into your cobweb-filled mind, that mind that was nothing more than a place where only the emptiness he left existed.

Thinking of the past, a slight itch spread across the bridge of your nose as you remembered his face, and those five years you had lived without knowing anything about him.

How is he now?

How much has he changed?

There were so many questions that wouldn’t leave you alone, and the guilt killed you day by day. Especially when your feelings were contradictory, and you didn’t regret anything you had done to him at all.

You wanted to believe he had become stronger, tougher.

You always considered him weak, even pathetic, for how easily he gave in to all of you. But deep down, you always knew he had the power to defend himself.

He could have destroyed all of you if he had wanted to.

But he never did.

Never to you.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and your arms tightened around your legs, your nails digging into your skin as the memory of his lips on yours emerged vividly and unbearably.

The brush of his tongue, the way he made you feel…

It was killing you.

You missed him in a way that devoured you from the inside, like a need you could never satisfy. But you knew with chilling certainty that if he still remembered anything about you, those memories wouldn’t be like yours.

To him, you only meant one thing: destruction.

Surely, the only thing he wanted now was to kill you.

And as a bitter smile tugged at your lips, you couldn’t help but think that you wouldn’t oppose him, no matter what his desire toward you was.

No, not at all.

And then, the sadness mixed with guilt comes back to you.

The memories return, like a dark tide swirling in your mind, impossible to contain, and you see it all with chilling clarity. The laughs, the cruel whispers you threw along with your friends in the school hallways, the looks he gave you, full of fear, humiliation, and disappointment.

That fear had fed you, you knew it, you wouldn’t make yourself the victim.

Something in you enjoyed watching him crumble under the weight of your words and your gaze. It was a power that intoxicated you. You knew how to crush him, how to make him feel like nothing, and you didn’t hesitate to do it again and again.

The jokes, the notes full of insults, the times you and your friends pushed him or left him alone in the middle of the classroom, exposed to mockery.

He never said anything, never tried to defend himself. He just lowered his head, as if he deserved everything they did to him, and part of you knows that maybe he deserved it a little.

But in those moments, when his green eyes met yours, there was something that always unsettled you. A glint of masochism and resistance, as if he knew that behind all your cruelty, there was something more.

Something you couldn’t admit even to yourself.

And then, when you confronted those feelings, everything went to hell for both of you the moment he decided to run away and leave you to your fate after all you shared together.

He got his revenge in the worst possible way. He got under your skin, embedded himself with ease, only to strip you of all his presence once you became dependent on him.

And now, years later, that memory was unbearable. The weight of what you had done and who you had been with him was a shadow you couldn’t shake, even though he got his revenge by abandoning you.

And you hated yourself for being so foolish when it came to him.

Because despite everything, you missed him.

You missed the very person you had destroyed, and that contradiction ate away at you.

The worst part of it all was that you knew with absolute certainty that if you ever saw him again, if you ever faced him once more, everything you had done would crush you, and you didn’t think you could bear it.

A tear fell down your cheek, and you hugged your legs tighter, your nails now leaving marks on the bare skin of your thighs.

“I deserve it,” you thought.

“I deserve all the pain that could come.”

“I deserve for him to hate me.”

A gust of wind stirred the lake and kicked up dust from the dock, as if nature itself wanted to erase the last traces of daylight, giving way to the dark night that seemed eager to embrace you in its cold arms.

Resting your chin on your knees, your thoughts grew darker and more surreal as you watched the sky turn blue. Your heart started pounding as you imagined what might happen if he appeared now, right in front of you.

You imagined the hatred in his eyes, hatred that you yourself had planted.

And the image of him approaching slowly, with the desire for revenge shining in his gaze, didn’t scare you. On the contrary, a strange sense of excitement washed over you.

If he kills you, you’d accept it, that was the truth.

It was the only thing you felt you could do for him.

One last gift, one last offering of peace.

“Why are you smiling?” Jean’s voice broke the silence you were lost in, pulling you out of your dark reverie. His tone was light and loving, but you could barely respond, too annoyed at how Eren had disappeared from your imagination.

Your smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

“For nothing…” you murmured bitterly, without even turning to look at him. The emptiness crept back in, deeper this time.

Jean clicked his tongue in frustration, and you froze as you felt his presence settle beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he dropped onto the cold dock. Now, without any armor to ignore your boyfriend, you unwrapped your arms from around your knees and placed your palms on the dock behind you, letting a calm smile spread across your face when you finally deigned to look at Jean.

“Are you sure it’s nothing?” Jean smiles at you, bringing one of his calloused hands to your face, letting his thumb brush over your lips. His honey-colored irises shrink as his dark pupils begin to dilate, staring at your lips.

“Mmm,” you hum compliantly, letting his thumb slip into your mouth to rub against your tongue. Holding back from rolling your eyes, you let out a fake moan, pretending that his act was turning you on, and without hesitation, you straddle him and start kissing him.

A curse escapes his honey-flavored lips as you begin to roll your hips over his pelvis. His hands travel to your buttocks, kneading them, pulling only a flicker of pleasure from you.

And you know why that was your reaction.

Your closed eyes allowed you to slip into the moment, but with someone and something else on your mind.

Jean began kissing you more desperately, pressing his body against yours without an ounce of shame. Everything about him showed how much he desired you and how deeply he had loved you for the past five years.

In some way, you wanted to return that affection.

But you knew something in you had already changed.

The past always distracted you from the now, always too close, too present.

And then, as his teeth caught your lower lip and bit it hard, the question you had been avoiding all this time slipped into your mind like a fast-acting poison with no antidote.

“What if I find him?”

Could you face him?

Could you bear what you’d see in his eyes?

Or would you freeze, wishing he would finish what you had started so many years ago?

“I want to be inside you so badly, baby,” you opened your eyes slightly, seeing Jean’s face lost in pleasure. Smiling, you simply quickened your movements on his hips and bit his lip in response.

“We can’t do this here,” you pout against his cheek, leaning into his ear to whisper, even as your hips continued to grind against his, “But tonight, I won’t resist.”

With that, you swallowed the last moan that escaped from Jean’s lips onto yours, and before long, he found his release while you praised him, telling him how much you loved and wanted him.

Every word you whispered into his ear was true.

But, unfortunately for Jean,

They weren’t meant for him.

Breathing in the fresh air, you both smiled at each other and pulled away. Jean cleaned himself up, giving you one last kiss, and ordered you to leave the dock after him so as not to raise any suspicions.

With your fists clenched, you smiled and nodded, watching him leave.

A few minutes later, you sighed again, but this time the air felt heavier, colder, as if you were inhaling the same fear you had planted in him years ago.

“I miss him,” you repeated to yourself once more, like a broken record you couldn’t stop playing.

Stretching your arms, you yawned deeply as you slowly stood up from the dock, as if the weight of your own thoughts held you down. The wind still blew, playing with the loose strands of your hair as you turned to leave, your head bowed, trying to shake off the mental abyss you had routinely sunk into. Tired, you took one last deep breath, quickly shifting your mood, ready to join the infectious laughter of your friends, if only to drown out the echo of memories that haunted you.

But then, just as you took your first step, something stopped you.

Your eyes locked with his.

Two intense, dark pools that pierced every corner of your soul, fixed on you.

Time seemed to freeze in that instant, and a shiver ran down your spine. You felt your muscles tense, and the skin on your arms prickled under the weight of his gaze.

Those eyes… there was something in them, something that felt terrifyingly familiar.

For a second, the world disappears, and the only thing that exists is that pair of brown eyes looking at you with an intensity that suffocates you. The hate, or maybe the resentment, is palpable in his expression, and for a moment, you’re convinced that he knows everything.

That he remembers you.

That he is…

But before you can process the thought, his expression abruptly changes. The hardness vanishes and is replaced by a carefree smile that throws you off. That smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but his gesture is convincing.

He raises a hand and gestures for you to join the group, as if nothing had happened.

As if he hadn’t been on the verge of uncovering something long buried.

“Aren’t you coming?” he shouts in his usual casual tone.

Your feet remain rooted to the ground for another second, but your mind is spinning wildly.

Kruger.

That’s his name.

“Kruger.”

Not Eren.

Your shoulders drop.

Kruger is a name that should mean nothing, but instead, it becomes harder and harder to ignore with each passing moment.

There’s something about him, something in the way he looks at you.

But you let it go, returning the same smile to Kruger, forcing yourself to move. Your steps creak on the old dock as you tell yourself you’re overreacting, that it can’t be him.

Eren disappeared years ago. There’s no way it could be him.

But that doubt… that persistent shadow in the back of your mind gnaws at you, even as you reach his side and you both smile awkwardly while moving towards the group, who are still laughing uncontrollably.

Feeling your heart lodged in your throat, you join the group, trying to pull yourself together as you distance yourself from his side. The air feels denser now, harder to breathe.

In a blink, ignoring the sensation of his brown eyes on you, you join your friends, smiling and going along with their antics. You even laugh with them, but your gaze keeps drifting back to Kruger, as if your body refuses to accept the coincidence of it all.

And him… he seems to be enjoying your confusion, as if he knows something you have yet to figure out.

Night falls slowly, wrapping the camp in a warm darkness, interrupted only by the flickering glow of the campfire that Sasha and Connie managed to start with Kruger’s help. The fire crackles and throws orange sparks, lighting up the faces of everyone around it.

Lighthearted, carefree laughter fills the air.

Mikasa sits close to Armin, who smiles with his usual calm demeanor. Historia and Ymir sit further away, but they seem to be enjoying the moment too, intertwining their fingers under the dancing shadows, thinking no one sees them.

Rubbing your arms together, you stop analyzing everyone around you and sit beside Jean. As soon as he senses your presence, he wraps an arm around your shoulders, and you both scoot closer to the warmth of the flames. For a moment, everything seems normal.

You try to join in the jokes and laugh with the others, but your gaze keeps landing on Kruger, on his gestures, the way he moves within the group, charming them effortlessly.

It’s natural, too natural.

As if he’d always been with you.

You squint in his direction on the other side of the flickering flames, and quickly look away when his brown eyes lock onto yours, still with that calm smile on his face.

“Let’s play something,” Historia squeals, catching everyone’s attention. “I’m so bored.”

“You’re always bored,” Ymir rolls her eyes, instantly regretting it when Historia pulls her hand away from hers.

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Connie’s drunk voice echoes through the woods, breaking the tension that had built up around the circle.

“Truth or dare?” you mock, letting Jean wrap his arm around your waist and plant a possessive kiss on your neck. “What are we, five?”

Everyone laughs at Connie, who flips you off and calls you a name.

“C’mon, babe,” Jean murmurs against your neck, and you glance at him sideways. “It might be fun.”

With that said, everyone quickly sides with Jean, begging you to play. Their voices overwhelm you to the point where you give in, clicking your tongue and shooting a final glance at Kruger, who smirks at you.

The game of “truth or dare” starts with shy laughs and silly jokes, but as the alcohol spreads through everyone’s bloodstream, it becomes more daring, more provocative.

At first, Sasha chooses a dare and has to eat raw meat, which triggers laughter and grimaces from the group once she goes through with it.

Armin opts for truth and confesses his biggest fear, a response everyone receives with warmth.

Connie, as always, picks a dare and ends up making a fool of himself.

Kruger participates too, smiling but observant. Every time he looks at you, you feel like there’s something hidden beneath his carefree facade. You’re uneasy but try to hide it, playing the part they expect from you.

Then, it’s his turn.

The circle falls silent as he pauses longer than necessary, and you suddenly feel on edge. The night seems darker, as if the fire can barely break through the tension and light the surroundings.

Kruger looks at each of you with calculated calm, his brown eyes gleaming with something you can’t quite place. And then, with a barely perceptible smile, he glances at you and drops the weight of his question, breaking the easy rhythm of the game.

“Truth or dare?” His eyes never leave yours as he asks, making you feel uncomfortable in your own skin.

“Truth,” you blurt out quickly, your voice trembling.

Everything falls apart.

“Have you ever hurt someone?”

The silence that follows his words is deafening.

The laughter dies instantly, as if an invisible hand had snuffed out the fire in their throats. No one dares to move. The echo of the question rings in your mind, hitting you with the force of a fist.

You feel the weight of all the stares in the circle, but all you can focus on is the way Kruger’s eyes watch you.

Cold.

Serious.

Angry.

You freeze. Your heart pounds, each beat reverberating in your ears, drowning out the crackling of the wood. Jean beside you tenses, and you quickly notice that everyone is uncomfortable. Sasha and Connie avoid looking at each other. Armin lowers his head. Mikasa narrows her eyes but says nothing.

And there’s Kruger, watching you.

The smile has vanished from his face, leaving only a seriousness that pierces through you. The air between the two of you becomes thick, almost suffocating.

A lump forms in your throat, and your hands clench nervously on your knees. You want to speak, to say something, but the words stick in your mouth like a heavy stone. Your eyes widen as you continue to stare at him, his face eerily reminiscent of Eren’s for some inexplicable reason.

But then you look into his eyes and snap out of it, realizing how paranoid you’ve become.

“Does he know?” That question hits you again.

“What’s wrong?” Kruger presses, his voice low and calm, but there’s something in it that makes you feel cornered. “Nothing to say?”

Your friends exchange nervous glances, but the silence remains. The question lingers in the air, heavy with meaning.

You know it.

Everyone knows it.

“It’s not something I like to talk about,” you finally say, breaking the silence with a tense but firm voice, feeling judged under his gaze.

Kruger nods slowly, never taking his eyes off you. The knot in your throat tightens, and you realize your breathing has become shallow. You feel exposed, as if he can see beyond your memories, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

The question still hangs there, among all of you, like a sharp blade ready to tear through the false calm.

And the only thought you can’t shake is that he knows.

Kruger knows.

The tension that had filled the circle shatters abruptly with Connie’s explosive laughter. His laugh is loud, brazen, and it feels almost out of place in the heavy silence that had reigned. Everyone turns their heads towards him, surprised by his reaction, but he just shakes his head, as if he can’t believe what he just heard.

“You hurt someone?” he says in your direction, still laughing, then glances at Kruger, who hasn’t stopped staring at you. “That’s ridiculous! Come on, Kruger, what are you talking about? Way to kill the vibe, man.”

His statement rings out with a disconcerting lightness. Connie’s grin is wide, carefree, as if everything that just happened was nothing more than an exaggerated joke. But that laugh, that carefree attitude, doesn’t relieve the weight pressing on your chest.

If anything, it makes it worse.

Your stomach churns. Connie’s words hit you like a hammer.

“Did you hurt someone?”

The phrase echoes in your mind, crashing into your memories with force. You know it’s true, and you know that, at some point, they were all part of it.

You, more than anyone.

You glance at your friends, hoping someone will say something, that someone will contradict him. But everyone looks uncomfortable. Jean lets out a nervous chuckle beside you, unsure of what to do. Sasha forces a smile, but it’s clear she doesn’t want to touch the subject. Armin avoids your eyes, and Mikasa just stays silent, as usual.

Kruger remains silent. He hasn’t stopped watching you since he asked the question. His expression, as unshaken as before, seems to evaluate every reaction from the group, but especially yours. His brown eyes don’t blink, and though his face remains neutral, you can feel the tension behind his gaze.

The air around the campfire feels heavier, denser. Though laughter tries to fill the space, the fire no longer feels warm to you—it feels oppressive.

“What a question, man,” Connie scratches his neck with a nervous laugh and seeks Kruger’s gaze as he speaks again. “She’s not that kind of person, Kruger. No one here is.”

Jean nods beside you, a tense smile on his lips.

“Yeah, Kruger, she’s not like that,” he adds, but his voice sounds hollow, as if even he doesn’t believe what he just said.

You look back at Kruger. He says nothing, but his eyes are locked on you, waiting.

“He knows something,” you think.

“He knows more than he’s saying.”

The pressure in your chest grows. Your friends’ laughter sounds distant, unreal. You try to take a deep breath, but the air doesn’t fill your lungs properly. The memory of those days in high school comes rushing back, vivid as if it had just happened. The teasing, the looks, the shoves. Everything you and your friends did now seems to swirl around you, like ghosts that never left.

And then Kruger finally speaks. His voice is soft, but each word cuts like a knife.

“Never?” he asks, his gaze fixed on you as his smile slowly fades, tilting his head slightly to the left. “Are you sure?”

The question isn’t for Connie, nor for the group in general.

It’s for you.

He knows it.

And so do you.

Kruger’s words hang in the air like a knife suspended just above you. You feel the weight of his gaze, that intensity that doesn’t fade, that doesn’t let you breathe. You try to form a response, but your throat is dry, and the words won’t come. You can barely swallow, and your nervousness is obvious.

Jean, noticing this, immediately steps in to defend you, as he always does. He straightens beside you, pulling his arm away from your waist to confront Kruger with a hardened, defiant expression.

“What the hell is your problem, Kruger?” Jean says tensely, his eyes blazing at the man who refuses to stop staring at you. “Don’t insinuate things that aren’t true. No one here is a bully. So stop stirring up crap.”

The confrontation shakes the circle. For a moment, everyone is silent, and the only sounds are the crackling of the firewood and the distant murmur of the breeze through the trees. Kruger maintains the same unshaken expression, his eyes still fixed on you, but then his mouth curves into a smile—one that doesn’t reach his eyes as they turn slowly towards Jean.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, in a tone so calm and neutral it almost unsettles you. “I didn’t mean to upset anyone. It was just a question.” He gestures with his hands as if retreating from the conversation, but there’s no real apology in his voice. It echoes around the fire as he turns his back and heads towards his cabin, leaving you all alone.

The atmosphere feels thick, almost suffocating. No one laughs this time. Everyone exchanges uneasy glances, and little by little, the group begins to dissolve.

“I think it’s time for bed,” Sasha says, breaking the tension with a light but clearly nervous tone as she stands up and stretches her arms toward the sky.

One by one, everyone starts getting up, mumbling something about resting and heading to their cabins. Connie, Ymir, Historia, Armin, and Mikasa say their goodnights with brief nods, and soon only Jean and you remain by the dying fire.

But even as the others leave, you can still feel Kruger’s eyes on you. That invisible weight doesn’t lift, no matter how hard you try to ignore it. His gaze seems to burn you from a distance—persistent, watchful. You don’t dare look back, though you know he’s still there, watching you from his cabin.

Beside you, Jean lets out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his messy hair, still irritated by the confrontation.

“We shouldn’t have let him come to the camp,” Jean mutters bitterly. “That guy’s weird.”

You nod, but your mind is elsewhere.

Kruger.

The name won’t leave you alone. There’s something about him, in the way he looks at you, challenges you, reminds you of what you’d rather forget. No matter how hard you try, you can’t stop thinking about Eren, about the years that have passed, about what you did to him.

And now, that question keeps echoing in your mind: Is it him?

Jean stands up, offering you his hand to help you rise.

“Come on, we should head to bed too,” he says softly, his eyes filled with concern as he notices your silence. “Are you okay?”

You take his hand, but your movements are mechanical. The camp is darker now, the embers of the fire barely lighting the area around it, but you still feel the burn of that gaze on your back.

You start walking with Jean beside you toward your cabin, but before disappearing completely, you stop for a brief moment and glance back at Kruger’s cabin, where his eyes meet yours once again, catching you off guard.

And then, the smile he gives you is faint but loaded with something deeper, something dangerous that makes you think this night won’t be like the others.

As Kruger retreats into his cabin, Jean gently urges you to keep walking, and you do, but your mind remains trapped in those eyes, in that smile, in the growing certainty that the past has come back to claim what you left behind.

Eren… Kruger.

Could it be him?

With one last look at his cabin, you sigh and walk toward your own.

But you knew.

Something terrible was going to happen to you tonight.

•

The cabin is cloaked in shadow, lit only by the faint moonlight filtering through the cracks in the small windows around it. Jean wastes no time, leaning toward you, his warm breath on your skin, and before you can think of the consequences, his lips meet yours in a soft kiss.

You moan for a second before Jean slides his tongue into your mouth and silences you. But as you start to let go, unease courses through your body with a cold sensation you can’t ignore, and you open your eyes, scanning your surroundings as you feel like someone’s watching you.

The urgency of the situation grows in your mind, and you pull slightly away from Jean, seeking his gaze once you hear a frustrated groan escape his lips. He opens his eyes, and when your eyes meet, you speak, your expression serious.

“Jean…” you begin, but your voice breaks, filled with the tension you feel. “I think it’s best if you go back to your cabin.”

He frowns, confused, his hand still softly caressing your arm.

“Why?” he asks, a mix of concern and frustration in his tone as his eyes scan your face.

“I just… need a moment,” you respond, unable to articulate the truth. Fear coils in your chest, and your heart pounds, knowing it’s best for him to leave before you end up throwing up or something.

Finally, after a few seconds that feel like an eternity, Jean nods, his expression resigned. He steps away from you, his figure disappearing into the darkness of the path leading to his cabin without a final glance in your direction, leaving you alone with the anxiety building up inside you.

Once Jean is safely inside his cabin, you turn on your heels and close the door behind you, exhaling heavily as you slide down to the floor.

With a few last, unsteady breaths, you decide that sleep is the best remedy after the tense and distressing moments you’ve endured throughout the day. Your brain is mush, and you’re a mess, your thoughts consumed by Kruger and the many similarities he shares with your first love.

Then, you smack your head lightly, scolding yourself for thinking such absurd things. Your tired eyelids begin to fall, and you sink beneath your blankets, desperately trying to fall asleep as you close your eyes.

Hours pass, and your hope fades.

The night feels heavy, as if the very air is charged with a suffocating tension that won’t let you rest. The memories of Kruger and the feeling of being watched won’t allow you any peace, and after tossing and turning in bed for a while, you decide you need to clear your head.

So, with no other option, you pull the blankets off your body and, without a conscious thought, head toward the dock, where you know the calmness of the water might offer you some respite.

The sound of your bare feet against the wood of the dock echoes in the stillness of the night, blending with the chirping of crickets and the nocturnal animals that sing cheerfully around you, keeping you company.

Slowly, you begin to take off your green shorts and white t-shirt, leaving only your matching green underwear. Glancing over your shoulder one last time, you focus ahead and dive into the cold water, letting yourself be enveloped by the refreshing sensation as you swim aimlessly, though even underwater, you can still feel eyes watching you.

You try desperately to shake it off. But the calm you sought becomes a distant echo, your mind racing, and your awareness nagging you that someone’s watching.

Finally, with some sense of survival returning, you decide to leave the water, feeling the cool night air brush against your wet skin as your feet touch the dock again. Bending down to where your clothes lay, you quickly dress, a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach as a distant scream makes you go on full alert and start running back to your cabin.

Your rapid footsteps echo through the forest as your sneakers crunch against the dry leaves and small branches. You rush back to the camp, hoping the night air has dissipated some of the anxiety bubbling inside you, but when you arrive, the horror unfolds before you.

The camp is eerily silent, a silence that hasn’t gripped the place since everyone arrived.

There are no lights, no laughter.

It seems as though no souls are within your reach.

Feeling paranoid, you instinctively head toward Armin’s cabin, noticing that the usual orange glow that spills out every night is absent. Approaching the cabin, your heart sinks at the loneliness of it, and with trembling hands, you open the door, whispering his name.

But there’s no response, and your heart plummets into your stomach, filled with fear.

No longer caring about keeping your composure, you rush to his bed, but you find no one there. That’s when your survival instincts kick in, eight alarms blaring inside your head.

With your legs turned to jelly, you stumble out of his cabin, tripping on the steps at the entrance, and check each and every one of your friends’ cabins, finding the same result. Desperate and with tears in your eyes, you head toward Kruger’s cabin, but once again, you find nothing.

Now, standing in the center of all the cabins, you call out for your friends, your voice dripping with panic, but you are met only with silence. Unsure of what else to do, your mind seizes on a solution, and you quicken your pace toward the only remaining part of the camp, your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

When you arrive at the main cabin, your worst fears are realized, and a blood-curdling scream escapes your mouth as you lay eyes on the bodies of your friends strewn across the floor, their faces frozen in lifeless expressions of terror.

Sasha, Connie, Armin, Mikasa, Historia, Ymir… They are all there, covered in blood, stripped of life.

Their dead eyes focus on you, and soon the urge to vomit overwhelms you as you clasp a hand over your mouth and your stomach churns. Shutting your eyes and turning away, you flee the scene, desperately trying to find Jean.

Hope sparks once more in your heart as you run toward the forest, calling out his name, falling a few times and scraping your knees, but even then, you refuse to stop searching for your boyfriend.

Until suddenly, you stop and collapse in place, the hope inside you dying.

Paralyzed where you stand, you fight against the urge to faint as you watch your boyfriend’s life being taken from him. Jean coughs up blood as he’s stabbed, his brown eyes meeting yours one last time. You freeze, locking eyes with him, your legs tingling as he, with all his strength, shouts at you.

“Run!”

Then, his eyes close, and you know that no soul remains in his body. You try to run, but your body won’t obey, too terrified and too paralyzed to make a single wrong move. But it isn’t just fear that holds you in place—it’s the figure standing at the center of the horror.

Kruger, with his cold, calculated gaze, turns toward you, and your heart stops completely.

In an instant, the world becomes a blur. You’re aware of every beat of your heart, every quick and shallow breath. But when he fully turns his face to the moonlight, what you see freezes your blood.

Those green eyes that have haunted you, that you could never forget, are now stalking you from a distance, flipping your world upside down in a heartbeat. The same intensity, the same agony you had felt in the memories of your past are here before you tonight.

The boy you once bullied, the one you had a secret romance with, the one you had buried in a dark corner of your mind.

He’s standing right in front of you, looking at you with hatred as drops of blood drip from his face and hands, which are holding a knife covered in dark liquid from the bodies of all your friends.

Kruger.

Eren.

Kruger is Eren.

Eren is here.

Eren has come back for you.

Swallowing hard, you feel trapped in a nightmare, the horror crashing over you like a tsunami. Confusion, guilt, and a deep fear tangle in your chest, speeding up your battered heart as it pounds in the presence of the man before you.

How had he gotten here?

“Hi, meine liebe,” Eren whispers, his German accent soft but laced with venom that makes you tremble as he uses the nickname he gave you so long ago. “I’ve missed you.”

You can’t move. Your mind screams at you to run, to get out of there, but terror paralyzes every muscle in your body, and his green eyes, still shining like precious stones amidst the darkness, hypnotize you, keeping you exactly where you stand.

“Eren…” you manage to whisper, his name a lament on your lips. And in that moment, the reality of what you did, of what he’s been through, crashes into you.

The image of his pain, his pleas, the times you laughed at his expense, all come flooding back like a haunting echo twisted in his dark gaze.

He takes a step forward, and the darkness in his eyes deepens. Trembling where you stand, you feel small, fragile, almost at the mercy of his torment. Eren is no longer the boy you once knew; the man before you has been shaped by hatred and vengeance.

“What’s the matter, my love?” he asks, his tone now a threatening whisper, growing with every step he takes, inching closer and closer to you. “Didn’t you miss me?”

In that moment, when a fake pout forms on his lips, you realize that he truly came back to claim what belongs to him and to remove whatever had been standing in his way for the past five years.

Eren is here to make you remember everything you were, all the bitterness you had both sown in each other.

And the nightmare has only just begun.

With nerves racing through your veins, a laugh escapes your mouth, causing Eren’s sharp jaw to pulse with rage.

You let out a laugh just like the ones that always made Eren’s blood boil.

You had no idea what awaited you, couldn’t even begin to imagine what he had planned for you.

This summer, this night.

For the first time…

He would be the hunter, and you the prey.

•

Knowing what was coming once he started to take faster steps toward you.

The horror intensified in your chest as you spun on your heels, launching yourself without thinking into the depths of the forest as you ran. The shadows of the trees stretched and narrowed around you, following you, and the darkness became your only ally.

The trees loomed over you like silent guardians, but there wasn’t enough shelter in them to hide you from Eren. As you ran, the image of his dark, threatening figure flashed over and over in your mind.

A desperate whimper escapes you as you hear the crunch of leaves under his feet, never stopping as he chased you, the sound of the knife sliding between his fingers haunting you like a siren’s call, tempting you to turn and fall into his arms.

Your heart pounds hard, each beat a reminder of what’s at stake.

You have to escape.

Branches scratch your skin as you venture deeper into the forest, every step pulling you into the darkness, and adrenaline courses through your veins. The air becomes thick and humid, and the mist creeps up to your feet, as if the forest itself is conspiring to trap you with the man laughing behind you.

Doubting between the trees, you veer left, searching for a path, a hiding spot. But the fear doesn’t stop; in every corner, in every shadow, you feel him closing in. His cold, mocking laughter echoes in your ears, and your eyes start to well up with tears.

Eren knows you’re afraid.

And he loves it.

“Why?!” you scream, your voice echoing in the silence of the forest, hoping that somehow, he’ll hear your plea as he draws closer and closer to you. “Why are you doing this?”

Your words fall heavy between you, and Eren’s laughter cuts off. There’s no response from him, only the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your head, mingling with your slowing footsteps.

As you glance back, a wave of panic overwhelms you. The forest feels alive, but not in your favor. You know you’re trapped. The space feels smaller, as if the shadows are closing in around you, corralling you on a silver platter for him.

And when your pursuit reaches its end as you hit a rocky wall that greets you, mocking you without words, you realize you’re cornered.

You know you’re screwed.

Then, a sound behind you makes you freeze, and everything is over.

Your mouth falls open, gasping for air, and your body trembles with fear as you hear the crunch of leaves behind you. Swallowing hard before your mouth runs dry, you slowly turn, and there…

You see him.

You slowly back away, your legs trembling, as Eren smiles at you gently, his face tilting slightly, and his green eyes gleam with an unsettling intensity in the dim light as he comes closer and closer to you.

His face is marked by rage, every muscle in his face tense with the fury he feels toward you, but even with that mask of hatred, you can see what his eyes hide—a deeper sadness swirling within them, a sadness you don’t fully understand but one that makes you want to cradle his face and shower him with the affection he had been deprived of for five years.

But the knife gleaming in his hands is a cruel reminder that Eren’s feelings don’t match yours.

He hated you, unlike you.

You try to speak when he’s finally in front of you, his body heat enveloping your fear-chilled body, and his green eyes beckon you home. For a second, you’re tempted to touch him, and you let your hand slowly reach for his face, but when he realizes your intentions, he raises his hand, free of the knife, and wraps his blood-stained fingers around your throat, squeezing painfully against your pulse, leaving you breathless as he pushes your body roughly against the wall behind you, forcing the air from your lungs without permission.

Instinctively, you grab for his hand, desperately trying to loosen or remove his grip on you, but you only waste your time as he cruelly mocks your pathetic attempts and, in return, presses his body even harder against yours, squeezing your throat with that same intensity until it cracks.

“What’s wrong? You’re not enjoying this?” His cold breath brushes over your nose, which is left without air, his question coming out in a raspy tone as he lifts the knife in your direction, the steel gleaming in the faint moonlight filtering through the leaves above you. “Strange. You always had fun with me like this, love.”

Your body freezes for a moment, and you quickly glance at him in pain as a wave of memories crashes into your mind, guilt welling up inside.

You can’t escape what you did.

“Eren…” you manage to murmur, your throat tight and your pulse pounding under his hand, but the sound of his name is a mix of fear and sorrow.

His hand on your neck loosens just a little at the sound of his name leaving your lips in that tone that used to get anything you wanted from him. Your eyes remain half-closed from the weight of his hand on your windpipe, and your palms move from his wrist to his face, finally allowing you to stroke his cheek with a smile on your lips.

Then, in a blink, the magic is gone as hatred resurfaces in those emeralds of his, and his hand tightens once more, depriving you of air.

“Don’t say my name.” He steps closer, his breath falling over your lips as he finishes his sentence. “A bitch like you doesn’t deserve to say my name.”

“Eren…” An irritated growl escapes his chest as he hears you, clicking his tongue in disapproval as his grip tightens around your neck, his eyes locked onto yours.

He gives you a satisfied smile without breaking eye contact as he slips his muscular thigh between your legs. He raises his eyebrows mockingly as he watches your eyes widen in surprise, and you gasp when he lifts it to the point that his knee presses against your clitoris, forcing you to let out a pathetic moan.

With desperation and a tingling between your legs, you bring one hand to the slippery stones behind you, desperately trying to cling to them, while your other hand clings to the wrist of the arm pressing against your throat, and in desperation, you dig your nails hard into his tanned skin, leaving crescent-shaped marks that match the dried blood on them.

“Look at you,” he growls, his teeth grazing your ear, and the hand with the knife in it grabs your hips, forcing them to grind against his thigh. “Isn’t this fun for you?” His laughter vibrates against your skin. “Because it is for me, love.”

Frightened, you open your eyes and try to meet his gaze. Your teeth clench, trying to keep any more traitorous moans from escaping your mouth, but when you finally focus on his eyes, you’re caught off guard by his blank expression—the same look of a wounded man, though his determination doesn’t waver.

When Eren notices your pity-filled gaze, the hatred returns, and his grip on you turns murderous.

“I waited so long for this moment. These five years of watching you from the shadows were hell for me. Every time I saw you with that idiot Jean, all I wanted to do was kill him, rip his guts out in front of you, and fuck you over them,” his voice barely a whisper, loaded with a contained fury that sends chills down your spine.

His hand, still holding the knife, leaves your hips and travels up your body until it reaches your breasts, where he starts to roughly grope them, the handle of the knife jabbing uncomfortably against them. His mouth moves to your cheeks, and his tongue darts out, beginning to lick the tears falling from them without end. “Today, it’s finally my time to play with you.”

You look at him in panic as he raises the knife above you, and at that moment, the reality of what you’ve caused crashes down on both of you like a giant stone.

It’s not just a game.

It’s not just a threat, and his wounded gaze confirms it.

You feel the need to justify yourself and apologize, but the words get stuck in your throat. How can you apologize for a past that cannot be erased?

The answer was simple—you couldn’t.

And then, in an act of desperation, as the knife gleams closer to you, you lift your own knee and hit his pelvis, making him groan in pain as he steps back. In that moment, with his hands off your body and his presence away from yours, you gasp for air and turn on your heels, running away from him once more.

“Damn bitch!” Eren shouted behind you, and the sound of his heavy, determined steps echoed in your mind, causing you to stumble.

But you don’t stop. You keep running, plunging further into the darkness. Your lungs burn from the air they’re now filled with after being deprived for minutes. You hesitate to take a break, but the memory of Eren’s sharp knife is a shadow looming over you, driving you to flee even faster.

Fear becomes your only companion as you rush through the dark, and with each thud of your heart, a question keeps repeating: What will you do when he finally catches up?

Your pace starts to slow as exhaustion begins to overtake you. You reduce your speed when you hear nothing behind you, and stopping for a second, you place your hands on your knees, catching your breath.

And then, the air escapes you again when, suddenly, Eren grabs you.

“Where do you think you’re going, herzchen?” His hands grip your hair with merciless strength, and a strangled cry leaves your lips as he pulls you back, slamming your back against his chest.

The pressure of his body against yours is suffocating, and the world around you blurs into a chaos of emotions and sensations.

Your heart pounds, echoing in your ears like a drum as the reality of his proximity overwhelms you. The contact is both cold and hot, a contradiction on your skin that makes you tremble. Panic seizes you, and the fight to free yourself becomes a desperate dance between attraction and terror.

“Let me go!” you scream, your hands flailing behind you, landing random blows as his grip on your hair immobilizes you.

In a stroke of luck, your hand connects with his cheek, the slap resounding in the quiet, and you smile in victory. But as quickly as that smile appeared, it vanishes the moment you feel Eren’s fist slam into your stomach with brutal force, knocking the little air you’d fought so hard to gather out of you.

“What’s wrong?” Eren laughs in your ear, and his fist strikes your stomach again, making you cry out in pain. “Not smiling anymore?”

You babble, trying not to vomit from the force of his punches, and before you can fight back, Eren throws both of you to the ground. His weight crashes suffocatingly onto yours, and you scream in agony as his knees dig into yours with the clear intent to break your legs.

“Ahhh, stop!” you cry, tears choking your voice, but Eren only rolls his eyes at you from above, pressing his knees harder into your legs to silence you.

Then, he leans down toward where you lie on the ground and strokes your hair before violently yanking it, forcing you to arch your back painfully to look at him. When you do, his smile only grows at the sight of your tears gleaming in the moonlight.

“How does it feel to be humiliated like this?” Eren leans in closer, his voice dark and filled with a bitterness that cuts through the air. His hot breath brushes against your neck, and a shiver runs down your spine as you feel the tip of his knife graze your collarbones. “Doesn’t this amuse you?”

“Eren, please…” you manage to say, though your voice shakes from the pain radiating through your knees, numbing every limb in your body. The plea escapes you like an echo of memories you’ve tried to bury.

But it doesn’t matter.

The pain of his past mingles with the fear of the present, and it drowns both of you in a never-ending abyss.

He doesn’t respond. His emerald eyes watch you, and you feel your legs buckle under the weight of the situation and his knees. His knife moves from your collarbones to your face, and you sob as its sharp edge lightly grazes your cheeks.

“You always laughed at me,” he continues, his eyes locked on you, revealing a deep sadness hidden behind all his rage. “You always toyed with me. You led me on again and again, only to kill that stupid hope you planted in my sheets the next day, when you and your fucking friends made my life hell.”

Eren holds you still, his body against yours a prison of overwhelming emotions. Sadness, anger, betrayal—it all mixes in the air between you. You look at him and see your past. The image of the wounded boy, the one who suffered in silence, now stands before you, claiming his place in the story you’ve forgotten.

The internal struggle grows.

You realize he’s not just a monster, not just a pursuer. He is the product of your cruelty, of decisions you made without thought. The memory of his green eyes, that look that haunts you, now becomes a mirror showing you the truth you’ve evaded.

“Eren, I…” you begin, but the knot in your throat prevents you from continuing when his knife swiftly slices into your cheek, drawing blood instantly.

“What? Do you regret it?” he interrupts, his voice dripping with irony. The anger in his tone is palpable, and you feel the pressure in your chest rise. “I’m sorry, but you can’t. You don’t have the right.”

You have no answers except screams filled with pain and desperate pleas for him to leave you alone, to forget his torture. You feel lost between who you were and who you are now. The guilt chokes you, but Eren seems to take pleasure in your torment. His body is pressed against yours, and the line between pain and desire blurs slowly between you two.

The knife gleams in his hand, and terror reignites inside you, flooding you with adrenaline. In that moment, a spark of determination surges within you, and you act.

With a burst of strength, you twist your body, throwing Eren off balance, and you try to escape his grip. Your arms tingle as, with a swift motion, you manage to connect your elbow to his face, causing blood to gush from his nose as the hit lands. Your eyes meet his, and in that split second, you understand that the confrontation looming ahead is inevitable.

Eren doesn’t look at you as blood begins to drip from his nose, droplets falling onto your face unexpectedly. With anger boiling in his veins, Eren drops his knife and flips you over, grabbing both of your hands with one of his, pinning them above your head with force.

With his body now pressed against your pelvis and your gazes locked together, you freeze as a smile grows on his blood-covered face from the blow you landed. Helpless to stop him, you feel his free hand caress your face tenderly, and foolishly, you lean into his touch. But before you can process it, his palm turns into a fist, slamming into your cheek, whipping your head to the side and leaving you dizzy.

The metallic taste of blood explodes in your mouth as you try to recover from the hit. Then, his hand returns to your face, and you close your eyes, bracing for another blow. But instead, you feel his fingers gripping your jaw.

His eyes are expectant, and his sadistic smile grows even wider as he forces his thumb into your mouth, prying it open as you tense up to resist. Nevertheless, Eren forces your mouth open, and with one last smirk, he presses his lips to yours and spits directly into your mouth.

Your eyes shoot open in disgust, your body writhing as his blood mixes with yours on your tongue. The taste is vile, and you whimper as Eren bites down angrily on your lower lip, tearing the skin for his amusement.

“What do I taste like, love?” His breath brushes against your mouth, and your chest heaves with rage.

You don’t answer his question, your face twisted in pure annoyance. Without thinking, you gather your saliva and spit forcefully in his direction. His smile vanishes instantly, and the darkness swirling in his eyes serves as your final warning before he slaps you again, harder than before, if that were even possible.

“Go to hell!” you pant, exhausted, locking your gaze with his, feeling his grip on your hands tighten as he sees the tears glistening in your eyes.

“You don’t have to do this…” you whisper, tasting the metallic tang of your own blood in your mouth, your voice steady but trembling. And in an instant, your words transform into a desperate scream. “You don’t have to be like this!”

Eren seems surprised by your response, and for a brief moment, his gaze softens. It’s a crack in his darkness, a glimpse of the person you once knew. But that spark quickly dies, replaced by the hatred that has been his only companion for so long.

Fear grips you again, and in one swift motion, you drive your knee into his pelvis once more. He curses under his breath, fed up with your defiance, and flips you over, tying your hands together behind your back. Grabbing your hair, he drags you toward a tree. You cry out as the branches scrape your knees, but Eren ignores your pleas and shoves you against the tree while you’re still on the ground.

The impact of the fresh wood against your shoulder blades makes you groan. Your vision blurs as you look around, and your throat burns with each exhale.

Crouching in front of you, Eren begins to admire you, his trembling hands running over your exposed thighs. With one final glance, he yanks your shorts off, taking your panties with them, leaving you exposed to his ravenous gaze and the cool air hitting your bare skin.

“So fucking perfect, herzchen,” his voice trembles, coming out as a needy sigh as he spreads your legs for him.

“You’re sick, you— ahhh…”

Your words choke in your throat as the handle of his knife presses against your clit while he positions himself in front of you. Your legs stay open around him as he forces your right thigh to stretch wider for his pleasure. The only sound escaping your lips is a needy moan, cut short when you throw your head back as the handle begins to move slowly in circles against you, your eyes squeezing shut, unable to meet Eren’s mocking gaze.

“Look at me, love,” Eren speaks sweetly, the handle of his knife slowly pushing inside you. The wet sound between your legs makes your face burn with shame, and you gasp, unable to hold back your moans.

“I told you to look at me,” his voice grows darker as the knife plunges deeper into you.

“I-I… I can’t—”

His laugh emerges, tense and irritated, but his eyes don’t leave you. His gaze travels to your bouncing chest with every thrust of his knife into your heat, and he gives you one last chance to open your eyes.

When you don’t, Eren pulls the knife out and, in a swift motion, tears your white shirt in half, exposing your breasts to his view. Your eyes fly open in terror, contorting your face in fear, and your mouth gulps for air, your bound hands clenching as he cruelly pinches one of your nipples.

His eyes return to yours, and he smiles, pleased to have your attention back on him. “There she is.”

The mockery in his voice makes you grit your teeth, your eyes filled with a desire to kill him, but that desire evaporates when Eren plunges the handle of his knife back into your needy heat, thrusting it harder than before as he rolls your erect nipple between his fingers.

“Is this what it takes to shut you up?” he laughs, and you cry from the pain in your bound hands mixed with the pleasure of his knife inside you.

“What’s the matter?” The knife pulls out and begins to circle your clit again. The lubrication from your arousal only intensifies the sensation, and you give in, unable to stop yourself from moaning as his lips brush against yours, barely a touch. “Too good to think about what a whore you are?” The knife plunges back inside, curving toward your pleasure point. His laughter spills over your mouth, which can’t stop moaning. “Pathetic.”

Unable to endure it any longer, you look up at him, eyes pleading, and the words that fall from your lips are filled with a yearning you can’t control.

“Can’t I have redemption?” You close your eyes for a second as the knife disappears from your heat, sighing before smiling in Eren’s direction.

Still crouched before you, Eren pulls back, his expression a whirlwind of emotions: anger, confusion, and lust. The tension between you is palpable, like a taut string ready to snap at any moment. Soon, he smiles, playing along, leaning in closer to you.

Grabbing a fistful of your hair, he yanks it back, forcing your face nearer to his. His lips now graze yours, and his breath, cool like morning air, stings your nose.

“Redemption?” he murmurs, and your smile fades as his knife begins to trail down the valley of your breasts.

His eyes flicker quickly from your chest to your face, smiling when he sees the worry etched in your expression. “Do you really think you deserve redemption?”

The knife slices your skin, and your stomach churns.

With an almost instinctual impulse, you open your eyes and lean closer to him, giving him your full attention. You offer one final smile before sticking out your tongue to lick his salty lips.

“Come on, Eren,” you whisper against his mouth, feeling his grip on your hair tighten. Your body trembles with the fear of failure as you swallow hard to steady your voice. “We both know the things we’ve done were never worthy of redemption.

A drop of blood spills from your breasts as Eren’s hand trembles.

How foolish.

“You…” His body shakes, unsure how to react to your words.

His past feelings betray him, and in an act of bravery and desperation,

You kiss him.

“You stupid bitch,” he tries to pull away, but you bite his lip hard, preventing that from happening.

Two seconds pass.

The air grows colder.

He relents.

A final insult escapes his lips before he pulls your body into his arms, holding you tightly. His lips press against yours with urgency, returning the bite with equal intensity.

You both gasp into each other’s mouths, the kiss laden with memories, forgotten passions, and the complicity you once shared.

But the unexpected happens.

In an instant, you feel the cold steel against your skin. The knife plunges into your neck like a sharp pain that quickly transforms into a familiar warmth; blood begins to flow, and you feel your body tremble, but this time,

You don’t pull away.

Despite the pain and confusion, you keep clinging to his lips. Your neck burns from the stretch and the wound forming from the silver blade that digs in deeper with each passing second.

Tears fall, and you sob, driving Eren wild.

With his body shaking, Eren drops the knife to the ground, the metallic sound echoing in the darkness like a reflection of his internal struggle. Then, his lips move against yours, intensifying the kiss, as if this time he’s searching for something more than just revenge.

Love and hate intertwine; his hands move around you, seeking a connection that seemed lost. The knife may have wounded your body, but the kiss becomes a silent pact, a reconciliation between the pain you’ve shared and the desire that never extinguished.

You both sink into that confusion, time halting as the outside world fades away, leaving only the two of you, trapped in a moment of passion and betrayal.

Blood continues to flow from you, a reminder that what you once had cannot return. Yet, in the depths of his eyes, you see a glimmer of something more, a search for redemption that could transcend the pain and suffering you both have caused.

“Eren…” you moan his name, feeling your strength begin to fade, but you won’t let fear consume you.

He stops, his lips pulling away from yours, and for a moment, hate and love find themselves in a precarious balance. The storm in his eyes reflects the chaos in your heart, but in that moment, you feel like two lost souls finally understanding each other.

“Stop…” you manage to whisper between gasps, but his hands only grip your body tighter, smothering your words. There’s a flash of fury in his eyes, and you sense he’s about to unleash a storm within himself.

And before you can gauge his movements,

He gives you one last look before pulling away from your lips, leaving you confused with swollen lips. A scream escapes your already wounded throat as he slips two of his fingers inside your warmth, laughing as he resumes kissing you.

“Stop?” he mocks, biting your lip. “How many times did I beg you to stop, and you didn’t?”

“I-I’m sorry, I, nghhh.”

The words die in your mouth with a pathetic moan as you feel his teeth scrape your nipple while he quickens his movements inside you, arching in a way that makes your toes curl.

As the tension between you intensifies, Eren’s hands begin to explore your body with desperate urgency. Your wetness spreads across your body, and the desire that was once intertwined with hate now turns into a palpable need as he smiles and kisses you again.

With hatred still surging between you and the struggle wanting to escape your bodies, he releases your hands and grabs your legs in one swift motion, dragging you to the floor, positioning himself over you in an instant.

Your aching hands become stones in a death grip as you let them drop onto Eren’s face, but to him, your blows are barely a caress that he effortlessly stops as he lets his saliva impact your face with force.

Your struggle doesn’t cease, and you twist your body in desperation, unable to do much against his sturdy frame on top of you.

“Stop fighting,” he says, and with a swift movement, Eren tears at your torn shirt, the fabric sliding down your skin and tossed aside, leaving your body exposed to the night breeze. “You’re just making a fool of yourself.”

You feel the cold course through your body, but the warmth of his presence envelops you, raising the temperature between you until you can’t hold back anymore. You stop fighting, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer to kiss him again, this time whispering with a smile on your lips, “I’m sorry, Ren. I was so mean to you in the past.” You gasp as you feel his length rubbing against your exposed sex. “Do you forgive me now?”

Eren just laughs, grinding his erection against your needy sex, and you both moan into each other’s mouths as his nails scratch your hips.

Your hands glide along his chest, tugging at his black sweatshirt while his eyes watch you with an almost wild intensity. Each piece of clothing that falls to the ground feels like another step toward a connection you both have longed for but also feared.

When you’re left in the intimacy of the night, skin against skin feels electrifying, as if every inch of your being is claiming the other. Eren lowers his gaze, his eyes now filled with desire, and he takes you by the waist, pulling you toward him with a force that makes you feel alive as he rubs the tip of his length against your clit.

Your hands strike his chest again, but with a dry movement, Eren slaps you hard before pulling your jaw toward him, forcing you to look at him.

“Let go of me, you idiot!” you gasp as his sex hits your warmth a few times, due to Eren’s rough movements.

“Do you want that?” His hands press down on yours, pinning them to the ground on either side of your face as he holds you captive beneath him.

“Hmmm? Tell me,” his hips move, and his sex grazes your clit with stimulating friction. “Do you want me to let you go, herzchen?”

“Ahhh, I-I…” Your warmth throbs with need, and in a natural impulse, your hips seek more stimulation.

Eren’s laughter tickles your neck as he lets his lips fall heavy with wet kisses around it. “I don’t think you want me to stop.”

“Especially knowing that…” His teeth clamp down on your pulse and bite there. “All the nights you spent in Jean’s sheets…” His tongue begins to lick the wounded spot, trailing over your neck to the mark his knife left on you. “The only thing you thought about,” his lips suck, “the only thing that made you finish…”

You scream, and your legs wrap around his hips as he thrusts deep into your warmth, confirming his statement. “It was always me.”

A moan of yours echoes throughout the forest as his heat expands within you without warning, and you cling to him, allowing your nails to drag across his bare back, which ripples with muscle as his arms fall to either side of your face, enclosing you within them once he lets go.

“Eren…” you gasp, feeling how his hips move slowly, making you bounce beneath him with each strong but steady thrust that steals the air from your lungs.

Your mind turns to mush, and your body relaxes as he only bothers to mock you, thrusting harder when you’re about to hit him or say something in his direction.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, his voice heavy with a mix of possessiveness and longing.

“I hate you,” you gasp against his lips, pressing against his warmth as he laughs.

His lips pull away from yours, and he begins to leave kisses along your neck down to your breasts, where his teeth latch onto your nipples, quickening his thrusts again and again, leaving you speechless.

Without thinking, your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him toward you as you reconnect your lips in a more desperate kiss, where both of you share moans and gasps.

“Do you?” His breath falls on you as his movements speed up. “Why do you hate me, herzchen?”

“Because… ahhh,” you bite your lower lip as his thumb starts to massage your clit, his eyes focused on you, searching for an answer. “Y-You left me.”

“Owww,” Eren moves one of his hands to your hair, tenderly combing through it. His thumb trails down to your bruised lips, and he plants a mocking kiss on them. “Did you miss me that much?”

“Y-Yes. Don’t leave this time,” you plead, your voice trembling as the fear of losing him mingles with the desire to have him close.

Eren responds by burying his face in your neck, inhaling your scent as if he’s trying to absorb you into his essence. It fills you with an almost primal need, one that seems to transcend words and the past that haunts them.

Both of you are trapped in a dance of repressed desires and forgotten resentments, and in the midst of that struggle, you finally find yourselves in a place of vulnerability, ready to explore what it truly means to be each other’s.

“You’re crazy,” Eren murmurs, his eyes burning with a mix of rage and desire. The intensity of his gaze envelops you, and his hips quicken their movements with more force as you cling to him desperately.

Despite his declaration, you can’t help but smile, a defiant grin that reveals both the pain and the connection you share. Without thinking, you lean into him and kiss him again, drawing him closer with a desperation that surprises you and makes your body tremble.

The kiss is wild, filled with a raw energy that defies the logic of his words. You feel his lips moving against yours, and a scream escapes your mouth as he bites your lip, a pleasurable pain that only intensifies the fire burning between you.

The line between love and hate blurs in this moment, and before you can think about the consequences, you find yourself trapped in his embrace, Eren’s hands exploring your body with a voracious passion.

“You’re a mess,” he says between gasps, his hands gripping your waist tightly, as if he fears you might escape. His voice is rough, but the desire emanating from him is undeniable.

“And you’re the only one who can handle it,” you reply, locking your gaze with his, feeling the adrenaline course through your body, bringing you to a boiling point.

In one swift motion, Eren flips you over and pushes you against the ground, his body pressing against yours from behind, and you feel the heat of his skin against yours. There’s a fire in his eyes that you can barely decipher, but you know it’s there, burning intensely.

Then he starts to thrust into your body from behind, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the forest. His hand lands on your ass countless times, delivering painful slaps that leave your skin bruised. Before you can think of anything else,

You feel the tip of his knife digging into your backside. With a startled look, you turn over your shoulder to see Eren’s face, marveling as he runs the knife along your skin.

“What are you going to…?” you gasp as he silences you with a hard thrust.

“You’re mine,” Eren repeats, and you freeze as you feel him take your hands and restrain them behind your back, rendering you helpless. “And I always like to mark what is mine.”

Before you can process his words, his thrusts slow down as his knife begins to pierce your skin slowly. You scream from the pain, but Eren simply calms you with praise, telling you how well you’re doing for him.

The knife stops at some point, and his heavy hand lands on the wounded spot, making you cry. When he releases your hands, you turn around and hit him, only to be met with laughter as he pulls you in and places you straddling his hips, thrusting into you once again without giving you time to respond to his bestial movements.

Both of you are filled with an animalistic need, and the hatred becomes a force that binds you together in an act of unrestrained passion. Every touch is fierce, every kiss a reminder of your shared history, and as your bodies meet in a rhythm of intense emotions, the past seems to fade away.

Eren takes control, his movements relentless, as if he wants to mark every corner of your being with his presence. The struggle between hate and desire becomes palpable, and every brush of his skin against yours is infused with explosive energy.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he asks, his hot breath against your skin as he continues to explore every inch of you.

“Not exactly…” you reply, but you can’t help it; desire surpasses resentment, and in that moment, all you want is to lose yourself in him.

The line between pleasure and pain echoes your relationship, and in response to your defiance, you start to sync your movements with his as you ride him fervently.

Eren meets your challenge with renewed ferocity, his movements becoming more intense, overpowering yours, and you feel the hate he once felt for you transform into something deeper, more complex. As the world fades away around you, it’s just the two of you, trapped in a moment that is both a climax of repressed emotions and a confrontation with the ghosts that have haunted you.

“Liar,” Eren says, still moving, as he brings his thumb to your warmth and starts to gently stroke your clit, quickening both your climaxes. “I hate it when you lie to me. What if I leave something inside you to remind you of me when I’m gone?”

“Hmpp,” you stammer, bewildered, sighing with relief as Eren positions both of you on the ground, resuming his more ferocious movements. “What about—”

And only there, amidst the haze, does your mind suddenly alert you to the realization that Eren was raw fucking you, with no intention of releasing himself anywhere but inside you.

Alarmed, you try to push him away, but it’s in vain. His hand grips your wrists and pulls them above your head while he places one of your legs over his shoulder, quickening the pace and cutting your protests into incoherent moans mixed with his.

“Eren, please!” you plead against his lips in the midst of the kiss, feeling your body burn from the stretching. “You’re going to regret it if you do.”

“Regret? Me?” You melt as he looks at you, sighing when his lips kiss your wet neck. “I don’t think so, love.”

With his uncoordinated movements, you feel one last thrust silence your pleas before Eren empties himself inside you without warning, filling you to the brim and making your warmth pulse in your own climax.

Moaning incoherently, your body trembles and relaxes as his thrusts cease. His cock softens and slips slowly out of you with curses leaving his lips.

You think you have a moment of rest until his voice pulls you from your trance, and your eyes lock with his.

“Hmmm,” his smile widens as his fingers move toward your warmth, which expels remnants of his semen, flowing out of you in spurts. “Let’s not waste anything.”

“W-Wait…” beside you, Eren holds you in his arms, his legs hooking around yours and pulling them apart. His chest presses against your back, and his free hand brushes the damp strands of hair from your face.

“Wait for what, herzchen?” your head falls onto his shoulder, and you cling to his arm that wraps around your chest, twisting your nipples, while his other hand slides in and out of your sensitive heat.

“I-I’m sensitive,” you whimper, clawing at his arm.

“Ahhh, right” Eren places a wet kiss on your cheek and begins to rub your clit with his palm. “You just came too, didn’t you?”

“Nghhh, yes.”

“Mmm,” Eren adds a third finger, and you roll your eyes. “But you’re such a good girl, love. I know you can give me one more.”

“I can’t, Eren,” your hand moves up to his hair, gripping him as you feel your legs close, but he stops you by spreading your legs even wider, making your task impossible.

“Yes, yes you can, love.”

His warmth builds on your buttocks, and you moan mindlessly as his fingers begin to curl inside your sex, which still expels traces of him. His fingers thrust in and out forcefully, as if he wants his semen to be embedded in you, and his palm slaps against your clit countless times while he penetrates your heat.

“Ahhh, Eren. Wait!” You tug hard on his hair when the pain from overstimulation turns into pleasure, and you feel the urge to urinate wash over you.

His arm tightens further around your stomach, and his hand pulls harder on your nipple. His fingers in your heat speed up their movements, and his laughter resonates throughout your body.

“Let it out. You’re begging me to make you come, love,” his fingers pull out quickly to give your heat a few light slaps, and your whole body tingles.

“N-No, I’m going to pee,” you hyperventilate as the pleasure expands within you. “Please wait, I’m going to wet myself!”

Eren’s laughter is cruel and low, as if he knows something you don’t, and ignoring you, he rubs his cock against your back once more. “That son of a bitch didn’t even give you a real orgasm, did he?”

Your throat burns with desperate grunts, and your tongue hangs out of your mouth, heavy and drooling. Your heat expands around his entire length again, and when you can’t take it anymore, you let your eyelids drop as you turn your face to connect your lips with Eren’s in a wet, desperate kiss.

His thick brows furrow with pleasure as his hips collide against you again and again. His hand moves to your clit and begins to rub it, creating another orgasm.

“Come with me, herzchen” your breasts rise and fall against his arm, and your legs bounce relentlessly against his. “Make a mess on me.”

“Ahhh, shit, Eren…” a cry interrupts your words when a particularly strong thrust makes you gasp, reopening the wound on your buttocks.

One of Eren’s hands leaves your breasts to move to your neck, pressing hard while his fingers continue working on your clit. His palm stimulates the connection of your bodies. His smile grows wider within the kiss, and with a few final thrusts, he commands you:

“Come now.”

With a guttural moan from both of you, you both reach an irreversible climax, making your minds race a thousand miles an hour, your brains turning to mush inside your heads.

Eren pulls out of you, and you feel more moisture than you’re used to on your legs. Blinking a few times, you lower your gaze only to see Eren’s white semen mixing with a translucent liquid still flowing from you, expelled by Eren’s hand as it gives a few last thrusts to your warmth.

“See?,” you sigh as he speaks. His hand moves away from your heat and, with both of your fluids on it, he brings it to your face, letting the liquid smear across your skin in a humiliating way. “A fucking mess.”

His fingers press into your mouth, and the bitter, salty taste of both of you bursts on your palate. “How do we taste together?”

You don’t respond; you can’t.

All you do is close your eyes, savoring the flavor of both of you while letting your tongue swirl around his fingers, which elicits a satisfied grunt from his chest.

“Good…” you smile, letting your lips crash against his in a possessive kiss. “I missed you so much.”

His smile spreads across your lips as he whispers over them. “Really?”

“Yes…” turning and breaking free from his grip, you straddle him once more. Your hands caress his face as you admire those eyes you had missed so much. “I love you, Eren.”

Eren smiles and shakes his head side to side. One of his hands caresses your face while the other squeezes your buttocks, marked with his initials, burning alive on your skin.

With a final sigh, he lets his lips fall on yours, and your arms wrap around him, pulling him closer.

Your bodies intertwine, allowing your souls to finally unify, leaving all your past behind and ignoring your present stained with blood.

And with smiles on both of your faces.

As you look into each other’s eyes.

He utters the last words that seal both your fates.

“Me too, herzchen.”

[yanderemisery]

Yandere Gojo Satoru

TW: non-con, stalking, obsession, out of character Gojo, rushed fic.

In the labyrinthine sprawl of Tokyo, where the city breathed in neon and exhaled shadows, there was a girl named Darling.

Her name, though simple, carried with it a resonance of warmth and affection—a name that mirrored the essence of her spirit. Darling was a young woman of unassuming charm, a tender blossom amidst the concrete jungle, oblivious to the darker currents that surged beneath the city's vibrant facade.

She had come to Tokyo in search of knowledge, her heart brimming with dreams and aspirations. Yet, in her naivety, she remained unaware that her every step was being traced, her every movement observed by a pair of eyes as blue as the boundless sky. These were the eyes of Satoru Gojo, the most formidable sorcerer of his time, a man whose power transcended mortal comprehension. But power alone had never captivated him— until he saw her.

It was a chance encounter in Shibuya, or so it seemed. Darling, with her soft smile and gentle demeanor, had been perusing a flower stall, her fingers brushing against the delicate petals of lilies and roses. In that moment, she had unknowingly ensnared the attention of a man who could bend reality to his will, yet found himself powerless in the face of her innocence.

For Gojo, it began as a curiosity—a fleeting intrigue. He had seen countless people, their lives mere blips in the vast expanse of time, but Darling was different. There was an ethereal quality to her, a purity that stood in stark contrast to the corruption he had witnessed in the world. Her very existence seemed to beckon to something primal within him, something possessive.

As days passed, Gojo found himself gravitating towards her, orchestrating

"coincidental" meetings with a precision that only he could master. He engineered moments where their paths would cross: a shared ride in an elevator, a brief conversation at a café. Each interaction was a thread in the intricate web he wove around her, binding her to him ever so subtly. And Darling, in her trusting nature, saw nothing but serendipity in these encounters. She laughed at his jokes, blushed at his compliments, and began to think of him as a guardian of sorts-an enigmatic figure who appeared whenever she felt the slightest bit lost.

Yet, for all her innocence, Darling was not a fool. There were moments when she felt a strange disquiet, a sense of being watched even when she was alone. But whenever she tried to voice these feelings, she found herself silenced by Gojo's reassuring presence. His charm was undeniable, his concern for her genuine-or so she thought. What Darling couldn't perceive was the darkness festering behind those cerulean eyes, the way his affection had curdled into something far more dangerous.

Gojo's desire for Darling had grown into an obsession, a consuming need to possess her wholly. The idea of her with anyone else, even in the most innocuous of interactions, filled him with a rage that he struggled to contain. He began to view the world through a distorted lens, seeing threats where there were none, and enemies in those who merely existed near her. In his mind, Darling was his, and his alone.

One evening, after a late lecture, Darling found herself walking through the dimly lit streets, the city's usual hum subdued by the encroaching night. The air was heavy with a sense of foreboding, though Darling, lost in thought, barely noticed. Her mind wandered to Gojo, to the strange magnetism he seemed to exude, and the inexplicable comfort she felt in his presence. Yet, beneath that comfort was a growing unease, a flicker of something she couldn't quite name.

As she turned down a quiet alley—a shortcut she had taken many times before

-Darling froze. There, standing beneath the weak glow of a streetlamp, was Gojo.

His tall figure cast an elongated shadow that seemed to stretch out towards her like a spectral hand. His face, usually lit with a disarming smile, was now a mask of inscrutable intent.

"Darling," he murmured, his voice a soft caress that sent shivers down her spine.

"I've been waiting for you."

There was something in his tone that unsettled her, a possessiveness that she had never noticed before. It was as though the gentle flirtations and casual conversations they had shared were stripped away, leaving behind only the raw, unfiltered truth. She hesitated, taking a small step back, but Gojo was already moving towards her, his presence overwhelming in the narrow space.

"Gojo-san," she began, her voice faltering. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to protect you," he said, his words laden with a weight she didn't understand. "You don't know how dangerous this world can be, Darling. You need someone like me to keep you safe."

The intensity in his gaze, the fervor in his voice, struck her like a physical blow. This was not the man she thought she knew.

This was someone else entirely, someone whose affection had twisted into something dark and suffocating. Panic began to rise in her chest as she tried to take another step back, but Gojo was faster, his hand reaching out to gently-but firmly-grasp her wrist.

"You don't need to be afraid," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear as he leaned in. "I won't let anything happen to you. I'll always be here, Darling. Forever."

Darling's heart pounded in her chest, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and fear.

She had no idea how deeply Gojo's obsession ran, how far he was willing to go to keep her by his side. To him, she was no longer just a person-she was his, a possession he would guard jealously, even against her will.

As the night closed in around them, Darling realized too late that she had become ensnared in a web.

[mochiroreo]

I had to sign to the Devil now I’m on

Alpha!Rafe Cameron & Alpha!JJ Maybank x Omega!reader

TW: 18+ MDNI, NON-CON, DUBCON, afab!reader, reader being called “honey” most of the time, toxic alpha behavior, threesome, rough unprotected P in V, creampie, fingering, squirting, oral ( f receiving), choking,degradation, biting, primal play (non-consensual), a/b/o terminologies, marking/bonding, spitting, (let me know if I have missed anything!)

Author’s note: screw my halloween thingy. i clearly underestimated myself by thinking that I can write something short and call it a day while working full-time and writing book reviews as a side job lol. love you all and thanks for sticking around!

P.s. this is not beta’d hehe. We die like men.

“Do you need anything else?” Concern was evident on your mother’s voice, her shadow showing that she’s still outside your door, patiently waiting for an answer. “I-I’m fine mom..” you breathlessly answered “I t-think I can h-handle this for now.. thank you.” Before you even finished thanking her, another wave of nausea made you stumble towards you toilet. You tried to empty your stomach that was already empty for days now, puking your heart out.

Hearing you vomiting, your mom entered the room and held your hair out of the way, kneeling with you while rubbing soft circles on your back. She helped you cleaned up yourself, gently laying you down on your bed before arranging an array of snacks and microwaveable soups near your desk along with medication that might help ease out the pain and.. heat spells.

“I will ask your dad to give you space, we will go out for a few days, I know how much you hate our scents at this time. I am so sorry honey I cannot help you—“ “it’s alright mom. This is already too much.” You smiled at her, easing her nerves before quickly pressing a kiss on your forehead, trying not to overwhelm you with her own scent. “Just message us once you feel like its over, okay? Or anything, really.” Giving a curt nod, she left your room, hearing her softly talking to your dad.

Both of your parents are Alphas, based on the genetics class that you took, you have to be an Alpha as well. Everyone around you presented months ahead of you, some even years. Being the only late-bloomer at a small town, word quickly travelled and you were labelled as the “odd” one. You ignored them though, confidently assuring yourself that you are going to be one of the small numbers of being an Alpha. Omegas were very rare as well, yet you would rather be an Alpha with how severe Omega heats are. And as far as you know, if an Omega presents, their heat immediately follows. You really don’t want to be handling two major things in one sitting.

Something in your gut was not feeling right as you listen to your lecturer, taking notes on all the possible symptoms for every class.

You were having a small crisis during one of your breaks at the university, frustrated at still not having a status on the ‘hierarchy’ while ignoring texts from 2 annoying people that you try not to meet on campus every day. Your phone kept on vibrating, making you sigh in annoyance and proceeding to block those 2 numbers despite knowing that they will find another way to send you messages.

The two annoying people that got blocked was JJ and Rafe, who happens to be the top Alphas on the campus that you pay no mind to. Who also happens to be the people you have drunkenly slept with after a night long of partying for the first time. Waking up sandwiched in between of them, all three of you covered in bites and hickeys, your mind quickly presented every possible thing that the woman at campus might do to you. You carefully slide out of their hold and quickly dressed up, tiptoed your way out without even leaving a note.

You tried to act normal the next day, thinking that if you don’t pay any attention to them they wouldn’t notice you nor remember what happened that night. But with how heavy their gazes are towards you, you quickly realised that they are not on the same page as you are. Confusion ate you as to why would it bother them, but you continued to avoid them and their gazes. It was quiet for a while, before they started texting you. It went from “Hi. Its JJ :)” “Hey its Rafe” to “Would really love to feel you again” “you were so hot that night” which made your cheeks burn in embarrassment, quickly deleting their messages, only to be met with a new number and tons of missed calls.

You do not get their obsession at all, cause you are pretty sure you were hammered that night. Shots after shots, cocktails after cocktails, you were sure you just got wild and did the usual things to them that would be done with a normal hook up. You did not expect your first time partying to end up in their arms, but sure as hell you do not want to experience whatever might happen if word goes out that you slept with the “hottest” people in your university.

Sighing, you stared at your melting smoothie. The gloomy weather was affecting you as you slowly face the sky. You looked down at your sprawled out notes, trying to talk to yourself to study instead of overthinking about when you would present. The sky looks gloomier, making you quickly pack your things as it looks like its going to rain, when suddenly you felt dizzy.

You quickly balanced yourself, clutching your bag near your chest in shock. You were just thinking on what might be the reason before another wave of dizziness hits you once again. Sitting down slowly on the bench, you quickly messaged your bestfriend if she can take you home. Your best friend immediately came to where you are, helping you on her car. “Holy fuck you look so pale” she commented in the middle of the drive towards your house, your hair sticking at your nape and your forehead as you feel hot and cold at the same time.

Your best friend told your parents what happened, letting you rest. A few days rest would be enough, you thought. That clearly did not work. 5 days went by like a blur, days were spent on having the highest fever ever to vomiting the soup that you ate for lunch. And with how severe and noticeable the symptoms are, your parents chose to go out for a while to not overwhelm you with their pheromones, leaving you alone.

The nausea that you had throughout those days was replaced with something more embarrassing and something that made you cry in frustration. The sudden heat and wetness that kept on pooling on your legs with the excessive amount of releasing pheromones into the air only meant one thing.. you’re presenting as an Omega and you’re having your first heat.

You laid down sweaty on your bed, the room stuffy and boiling hot for you despite the cold autumn air entering through your windows and the AC that you have turned on. A wave of pleasure had hit your body, your hands pushing down the garter of your soaking wet underwear, immediately slipping two fingers in your deprived pussy. You mewled at the sudden feeling, thrusting your fingers almost immediately to relieve yourself. Holding your legs up, you continued to pump your fingers in and out to reach the climax that seems so far away. You cried out in frustration, stopping your actions when you’ve realized that whatever you’re doing is not and won’t be enough unless its an Alpha.

You quickly grabbed your phone beside, messaging your bestfriend about your situation.

“I am hundred percent certain that I’m presenting as an Omega and I’m having my first heat. Do you mind telling Pope to— you know..? Visit me.. if he’s there at the party”

Pope was your safest bet for an Alpha to help you out. The guy was the kindest and definitely one of the smartest people you have ever met, so you trust that whatever he would do would help you and ease the pain. There was a sudden pain in your chest from your heat that pushed you to release more of your scent, you’re breathing so fast that you try to ease the pain by curling into a ball. Waiting for it stop, you heard your phone pinged and quickly took a look at your bestfriend’s message that says “Oh shit, I’m on it 🫡”

You waited for what seems to be hours, as your heat becomes more and more unmanageable. You tried to look decent at least, a red, thin silk nightgown that sits on your body perfect and a properly brushed hair before swiping some strawberry lipgloss. You felt bare and nervous with Pope seeing you in this state, but you cannot help at thinking that this might be a step on having a serious relationship with someone reliable and can help you out with your cycles.

The doorbell rang, making you gulp nervously before trotting downstairs to open the door slightly and what you saw just made your stomach drop along with your smile. “What the hell are you both doing here?” You asked with squinted eyes, holding the doorknob tightly.

JJ’s huge smile greeted you while Rafe just smirked in amusement. “Are you that disappointed to see us?” JJ asked, making you squint harder at him in annoyance. Rafe just chuckled before pouting to mock at your expression, leaning on the door frame which made you close the door a bit more. “Aww, she doesn’t wanna see us.” “Shut up. I asked you guys a question, what are you both doing here?” You continued, trying not to get overwhelmed with both of their scents as you will yourself not to give in.

“Well, we heard something from a little birdie that someone has presented as an Omega and well.. that someone, requires some top Alpha service.” JJ answered behind Rafe, a menacing smile on his face as he stares on your paling face. “Mhm,” Rafe nods in agreement before slightly pushing the door, gripping the edge tightly. “Do you know who that new Omega is?” The slight push exposed your thin nightgown, and based on Rafe’s darkening expression and JJ’s slightly wide eyes, you knew that you’re running out of time to push them away.

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about.” With an eye roll, you were about to slam the door, when both of them pushed it to stop you. You were still holding the door knob so you tried to push it close only to be met with resistance. “Seriously, you’re fucking choosing Pope? When you have us?” Rafe asks, his blue eyes staring at you so intently as he try to sneak a peek at your body behind the door. You heard JJ sigh, laying his palm flat on your door, hearing the clunk of his rings. “You know.. I feel a bit betrayed. You, choosing a good friend of mine, instead of me? Have you forgotten what you said to us THAT night?”

His emphasis made you shut your eyes, the image of their bare torsos flooding your memory and their breathless sighs made you clench your legs, unknowingly releasing some pheromones into the air that wafted straight into their nostrils. Both taking a deep breath, your scent smelling like amber, honey, and vanilla, making both of them salivate. You snapped out of your daze when you noticed them being quiet, realising your mistake when you noticed that their eyes are almost black,irises swallowing the pretty blue hues of their orbs.

You tried to push the door shut once again, both Rafe and JJ trying to push it open. “Open the door, honey. Come on.” Rafe said menacingly, staring you down. The vast difference of your size to them made you shiver in fear and anticipation on what they might do to you. You slapped yourself mentally before trying to push it shut again. JJ clicked his tongue before sighing “That’s it.” He mumbled under his breath before giving Rafe a short nod. Rafe just smirked before they both gave the door one solid push, making you tumble backwards.

Preventing yourself from falling backwards, you immediately balanced yourself, slowly stepping back while maintaining eye contact with the two. Your heart is pounding inside your chest so loud that you can hear it together with your heavy breaths. Rafe and JJ’s stature just scares you, their toned arms ready to capture you as they walk towards you like a predator catching its prey. When a click was heard with JJ shutting the door, you quickly grabbed whatever was near you, which happens to be a vase, and threw it towards the two.

With Rafe being the closest, he barely managed to dodge it, scraping the side of his arm. He just looked at you, snapping his neck as he chuckles. “Oh woohh..” he exhaled, a menacing smirk on his lips as JJ just laughed beside him. “You shouldn’t have done that.” He growled lowly, not taking his eyes of your quivering form. “Run, honey. Cause once we catch you—“ you did not even let JJ finished his sentence before you start running upstairs, hearing their laughter echoing throughout the empty house.

You were panicking, trying to wrack your brain on where to hide. Your house was a decent size, so even though there’s not much place to hide, you still knew what places they might not even spare a glance. You crawled inside a spacious cupboard that is concealed behind the door in your guest bathroom, talking to yourself inside your head to slow down your breathing.

“Honey~ come out, come out wherever you are~” JJ called out in a singsong way while Rafe just chuckled. You heard their steps getting closer before hearing them walk away to check whatever room they haven’t checked. Covering your mouth in fear, you closed your eyes to stop yourself from shivering. You just wanted this to end, this fucking heat. This situation. This was far from what you wanted already, from discovering you’re an omega to seeing the people that you hate so much outside of your house instead of Pope.

It was suspiciously quiet, yet you did not move. You were still trying to control your thoughts and your shivering body, your hair sticking into your skin with how warm you are feeling because of your heat and because of the cramped space. You felt another ripple of pleasure, making you close your eyes shut. “Not now, not now, not now” you plead to yourself, the heat being way more worse after the confrontation. You didn’t hear anything from outside. Trusting your gut feeling, you removed your hands from your mouth and finally opened your eyes.

Only to be met with Rafe and JJ’s big smile that made the blood drain from your face.

“Boo.”

A deafening scream escaped your throat as Rafe grabbed you out of your hiding space, your arm suffering from a bruising grip. You did not stop trying to hit him or JJ even when he carried you over his shoulder, trying to hit his back while also aiming to kick JJ. Rafe smacked your ass, the pain immediately traveling to your wet core. JJ smelled it in the air, watching you sob as Rafe plopped you down on your bed. They both stared at your disheveled state, your nightgown sticking to your skin, highlighting your pebbled nipples that are now evident thanks to the cold air from you open window.

Both men did not waste any time, taking off their clothes as you watch in shock. You cannot help your eyes trailing down, from their faces that showed no other emotion than want, to their taut arms and muscles. Your eyes widened when you saw how huge their cocks are just because of your heat, Rafe’s longer and a bit curved while JJ’s a good length yet clearly thicker than the other, making you gulp in fear and anticipation, your hormones taking over your mind as it turns into a mush.

They were both beside you in an instant, with Rafe landing a slap on your cheek that does not sting much yet brought your mind down back to your body again. “Why can’t you just follow, huh? This wouldn’t have happened if you just listened to us.” You continued to just stare at him, trying to cover your breasts using your arms before you felt JJ wrapping his hand around your neck. “He is asking a question, honey. Come on now.”

Your eyes started to water yet you felt your pussy clench on nothing, instead of answering, you have accidentally let out a soft mewl.

“Fuck, look at you.” JJ spoke, licking his lips as his hold on your neck slightly tightened. “Who would have known that you will love this?” Rafe grabbed the neck line of your night gown before ripping it, making you gasp. You felt vulnerable by the sudden action, trying to cover up your body which made them both annoyed.

“Who told you to cover yourself up, slut?” You felt Rafe smack your leg, before shoving it upwards to show them your weeping cunt. Your face heated up in shame with how wet you are, your own juices trailing down your legs. You didn’t get to answer back as JJ lets go of his hold on your neck before leaning down to kiss you. The kiss is sloppy and extra messy because of what your heat was doing to them. He tasted every corner of your mouth as you obediently open to let him, tongues dancing with each other, biting his bottom lip which made him groan into your mouth. The sound made your pussy clench on nothing, making Rafe laugh mockingly.

“Aww, look at this weeping cunt. I bet you had a hard time huh? It’s alright, I will make you feel good.” You didn’t have enough time to get down from the high of JJ’s kiss when you felt Rafe lick your folds slowly, coating his tongue in your essence. The action made you grip JJ’s hair while he press wet kisses on your neck, sucking and licking as he covers you with hickeys.

Your brain turned into a mush, the fight inside of you now long gone as you feel mind-numbing pleasure from the both of them. Rafe continued to plunge his tongue inside of you, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles, his mouth and chin covered in your slick as he continue to eat you out. Sliding a finger inside of you, you immediately moaned and clenched, making the kook king smirk mockingly. “And she wants to put up a fight? Hah.” JJ commented before latching on your nipples, teasing it between his teeth and feeling it harden on his tongue. You don’t know what’s happening anymore, other than the feel of their mouths on your body. Rafe slipped in another finger, and another when you mewled.

His three fingers pumped in an out of you, setting a punishing pace. You had long shut your eyes, brows scrunched in pleasure with your mouth agape. JJ tapped your cheek repeatedly, making you open your eyes. “Keep your eyes open and watch us fuck you.” You watched Rafe suck your clit, fingers squelching as it tries to go deeper everytime, and when he curved his fingers and felt that rough texture, your eyes rolled at the back of your head, snapping open that release that you’ve wanted for days.

Rafe felt your pussy flood with your cum, clenching hard on his fingers. Continuing still, JJ grinned when he watched your legs shake, making Rafe pull back. “Oh shit” he muttered, both of them seeing the liquid gushing out of your cunt. “God.. thats fucking hot.” Brushing his hair upwards, while Rafe wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, your chest heaving up and down.

You were tired but not yet satisfied as your mouth waters at the sight of their cocks, seemingly larger than earlier. You wanted to suck and taste it, feel it heavy on you tongue but it seems like they don’t want that today. Both men positioned your body for what they want to do, JJ sliding underneath you with Rafe positioning himself above you. Your eyes were slowly closing, before a slap echoed on the room. “Fucking wake up, you hear me?” With a clenched jaw, Rafe grabbed you by the jaw with force, making you nod your head. JJ cackled, pressing his bare chest on yours. “Where’s the fight that you had earlier? Gone already?” He continued to made fun of you, feeling him rub his tip to your puckered hole. “Knew it was this easy to get you like this. Why are you even playing hard to get?”

Being sandwiched between them two sent your brain into an overload. All you were thinking about was the relief and pleasure of having them and taking them both. The fight inside of you turned into craving the feeling of their lips on your skin, their pheromones clouding your mind as much as your cloud theirs. You felt your slick drip down, from your puffy pussy lips to your hole. You felt the soft tip of JJ’s cock poking your hole, lubricating it with your slick and with his pre-cum before pushing in slowly. The intrusion made your body tense up, craning your head back and resting it on his shoulder. JJ hissed with the tightness, holding in a breath as he push,push,push inside of you. Rafe noticed how you scrunched your eyebrows, making him rub circles on your clit to loosen you up.

The sudden action made you scratch JJ’s arm that was holding you in place, squirting as he is finally balls deep inside of you. JJ lets out a shaky breath while Rafe only chuckled, before pushing his huge cock inside of you without warning. You gasped, looking down to slightly to see his flushed body connecting with yours while feeling JJ behind you, hands now holding your legs open. Leaning closer, Rafe growled in your ear while JJ moaned on the other side. Both men tentatively gave you one hard thrust, making you clench on the both of them.

The action made both of them give you another hard thrust, hands digging on your waist and hips, trying to create a rhythm. Rafe’s thrust were continuous and forceful, immediately hitting your sweet spot which made you curl your toes while JJ’s were short yet deep, stuffing your entrance so full of his thick cock that all you can think about is how full you are and how mind-numbing the pleasure is.

JJ constantly sucks hickeys on the side of your neck while Rafe attacks your lips with a searing kiss, their hips never stopping as drools drips from the side of your lips. Both blondes cannot help but bask on the feeling of your wetness and the squelching sounds your holes are making while you moan so erotically for them to hear, your sweet scent making it more pleasurable for them. “I-I’m close.. oh god I’m so c-close..!” You tried to warn them, holding Rafe close as you drag your nails on his back making the taller male stutter out a low moan.

Your warning just made JJ’s urge to own you stronger, grabbing your hips in a bruising hold as he piston his hips, feeling his wet balls smacking your ass with every thrust, prompting Rafe to do the same. “Take it— fuck, take it you fucking whore..!” He whispered with Rafe wrapping his hand on your neck, squeezing slightly making you open your eyes. “Doesn’t this remind you of that night?” He asks, following JJ’s rhythm. Tears flowed down your cheeks as you get overwhelmed with pleasure, constantly moaning and releasing a series of ah,ah,ah as a bitch in heat. “You told us you are ours that night, stuffing you so full like this.” He smirked at you, watching how filthy you look like, taking both of their cocks and letting them have their way with you. JJ chuckled breathlessly when he hear what Rafe said “yeah— fuck— remember how she moaned that night while holding her legs open? Then acted like nothing happened, now look at you. Back to doing it again for us.”

You were too far gone. Their comments slipping down your brain as your body focused on the fullness and the harsh circles on your clit that you don’t even know who’s giving you with your eyes rolled at the back of your head. “C-coming..!” You didn’t even finished your warning as you cum, clenching on both of them tightly. Yoyur body convulsed, mouth slack and open which prompted Rafe to spit on it. Both men felt your hot slick wetting them both, chasing their own highs.

JJ looked at Rafe, licking his bottom lip before cocking an eyebrow. A silent challenge to the other alpha male before sinking his teeth on your shoulder blade. The sharp pain made you open your eyes full of unshed tears, breathing heavy as pain and pleasure mixed inside of you. JJ licked the wound, pressing with kisses before huskily moaning, releasing his cum deep inside of you, filling you up as he relishes on the high from the sex and from marking you as his. “Mine.” JJ whispered while looking at Rafe, clearly challenging the other with a smug smirk.

Rafe snarled, baring his teeth on the other blonde before thrusting deep inside of your abused cunt and biting the other side of your shoulder. His bite was rougher than the other, hot pain searing inside of you as you open your mouth in a silent scream before feeling him cum deep inside of you. Kissing the bitten area of your shoulders, they both stayed inside of you before pulling out at the same time. Your tired state was evident with how flushed your cheeks are and how your eyes were barely open.

Both of them stood up, JJ laying down your tired form properly on the bed while Rafe grabs a wet cloth to clean you up. While cleaning you properly, both men cannot help but watch you sleep while baring their marks, officially marking you as theirs. They want you for themselves but both of them won’t back down, settling on the terms that they share you, as long as its only the two of them that gets to taste and fuck you.

They held your body close, the haze of stuffing you full still buzzing on their system as they settle beside you. Looking at their bite marks, both of them grinned foolishly, finally claiming you as theirs.

“You fucking assholes!”

Both men immediately sits up in shock, still sleepy from the draining activities last night. When they both opened their eyes, they saw you standing in front of your mirror, staring at the bites that they left on each of your shoulder blades in horror.

You looked at both of them in disbelief, hiding the marks with your hands while you sob. JJ and Rafe just smiled at you, clearly proud of their work. “Get out— get out!” You screamed at their faces, ignoring the fact that your heat is still not finished yet. Feeling betrayed that they staked their claim. Now everyone will know who claimed you, their pheromones will always cling on your skin and your body reacting more actively when they’re closer because they had bonded you without your consent. You sobbed at the fact that instead of having someone mature to help you out on your heat cycles, you instead got two of the most possessive bastards in the world.

Rafe just leaned back while JJ rested his head on his hands. “Now, now” JJ started. “I think you need to calm down. We really need to teach our little omega how to speak to her Alphas properly, right, Rafe?” The other just chuckled, eyeing your naked body with lust. “Oh definitely. I cannot have a bratty little omega prancing around with such a dirty mouth. I guess, we both need to stuff her mouth with our cocks, put her into place huh?” You ignored them and screamed “oh fuck off! You fucking pieces of shit!” Your chest was heaving in anger.

Rafe grabbed the lamp besides him and threw it on the wall behind you while JJ lets out a warning growl.

You just stared at them in shock, covering your now cowering body as they stare at you intensely with clenched jaws. JJ stood up, walking towards you before dragging you forcefully towards the bed by your hair. Letting out a scream,he shoved you down the bed with your ass propped up for both of them to see, before landing a harsh spank on your ass. You cried out in pain, before feeling Rafe’s hand on your nape, pressing you down and choking you.

“You are ours. OURS.” He threatened through clenched teeth.

The sun went down. The day ended with you covered and full with their cum, using and abusing all your holes, covered in hickeys and bruises that will last for days. Clearly expecting you to learn your lesson, your mind blank as you take and take whatever they give you.

[horeformilfs]

Searching for Home

Dimitrescu Family x Gender Neutral Autistic Reader

TW: Bullying, Mention of Parental Death

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As the sun dipped behind the towering peaks of the Carpathian Mountains, casting a golden glow over the quaint village below, Y/N trudged out of the orphanage gates, shoulders hunched against the biting chill of the evening air. For seven long years, they had called this place home, but it had never felt like home. The laughter of other children echoed in the distance, a cruel reminder of their own solitude.

Y/N's steps faltered as a sudden cacophony of noise erupted around them. Startled, they instinctively covered their ears, heart pounding erratically in their chest. The world seemed to spin, the sounds blending into a nightmarish symphony of chaos. The older kids, faces twisted with malice, stood nearby, wielding an array of makeshift instruments to amplify the din.

"Look at the freak! Can't even handle a little noise," one of them jeered, his voice laced with cruelty.

Y/N's breaths came in short, ragged gasps as panic seized them, every nerve on edge. Desperate, they stumbled backward, eyes wide with fear, seeking escape from the overwhelming onslaught of sensory input.

"Leave me alone!" they cried, voice raw with emotion, but their words were lost amidst the clamor.

With a strangled sob, Y/N turned and fled, feet pounding against the cobblestones, tears blurring their vision. 

The village blurred past in a blur of colors and shapes, each alleyway a potential dead end. But Y/N pressed on, driven by a primal instinct to flee, to outrun the demons nipping at their heels.

Finally, as their legs threatened to give out beneath them, they stumbled upon the village church, its weathered stones looming like a beacon of refuge amidst the chaos. With one last burst of energy, they pushed open the heavy wooden door and stumbled inside, heart pounding in their chest.

As Y/N cowered behind the heavy wooden door of the village church, their heart still racing from the chase, they felt a sense of fleeting safety wash over them. The sounds of their pursuers grew fainter as they rounded a corner, their frantic footsteps fading into the distance.

Breathing heavily, Y/N pressed their back against the door, eyes darting around the dimly lit interior of the church. Shadows danced across the walls, casting eerie shapes upon the worn stone floor. With trembling hands, they reached out to steady themselves, fingertips grazing the rough surface of the doorframe.

Frantically, they scanned the room for any sign of movement, any indication that they were not alone. But save for the faint flicker of candlelight and the soft rustle of fabric, the church remained eerily silent.

Their gaze came to rest upon a faded photograph hanging on the wall, illuminated by the dim glow of the candles. It depicted a stern-faced woman, her eyes fixed in an unwavering gaze, her presence looming over the room like a silent sentinel. Mother Miranda, the villagers whispered, a figure of reverence and fear in equal measure.

Though Y/N had never been one for religion, in this moment of desperation, they found themselves drawn to the image before them. With a shaky breath, they bowed their head and clasped their hands together, fingers intertwining in silent supplication.

"Mother Miranda," they whispered, the words feeling foreign upon their lips. "Please... please help me. I don't want to go back there. I just want to be safe."

Closing their eyes, Y/N rocked back and forth, a soothing rhythm born from years of seeking solace in moments of overwhelming sensory input. They pressed their palms against their ears, willing the world to fade away, to grant them respite from the tumultuous storm raging within.

Unbeknownst to them, in the shadowed recesses of the church, a figure stirred. Mother Miranda herself, her presence as silent as a whisper, watched from the darkness, her gaze softening as she beheld the child huddled before her.

As Y/N's eyes widened in shock at the sight of Mother Miranda approaching, a wave of fear and uncertainty washed over them. Their instincts screamed at them to flee, to put as much distance between themselves and this enigmatic figure as possible. But as they pressed back against the solid wooden door, they found themselves trapped, with nowhere to run.

Miranda, sensing their distress, moved forward with slow, deliberate steps, her expression gentle yet unreadable beneath the mask that obscured her features. But as she drew nearer, Y/N's panic only intensified, their heart pounding in their chest like a trapped bird.

"Please, stay back," they whispered, voice trembling with fear, as they instinctively tried to shrink away from her looming presence.

Miranda paused, her keen gaze softened with understanding. She could sense the fear radiating from the child before her, could see the tension in their trembling form. With a silent nod, she halted her approach, giving them the space they so desperately sought.

But Miranda knew that mere words would not be enough to quell their fear, not when faced with the unknown. And so, with deliberate care, she reached up and began to unfasten the mask that obscured her face, revealing the woman beneath.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise as the mask fell away, revealing features softened by compassion and empathy. It was unheard of for Mother Miranda to show such vulnerability, to strip away the veil of mystery that shrouded her every action. And yet, here she was, kneeling before them with a tenderness that took their breath away.

Tears welled in Y/N's eyes as Miranda brushed a gentle hand against their cheek, her touch as light as a feather. But as they flinched away, overcome by a lifetime of mistrust and uncertainty, Miranda's heart ached for the pain that lay hidden within.

"It's alright, child," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm against their frayed nerves. "You're safe now. Tell me, what has happened? How can I help you?"

Y/N hesitated, their gaze flickering away as they struggled to put their feelings into words. But Miranda was patient, her presence a comforting anchor in the storm of their emotions. And as they finally found the courage to speak, halting and hesitant though it may be, she listened with an open heart, ready to offer whatever solace they sought.

As Y/N poured out their heart to Miranda, recounting the cruel prank and the years of loneliness and ridicule they had endured, Miranda listened with a compassion that spoke volumes. Her eyes softened with empathy, mirroring the pain reflected in Y/N's own gaze.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, my child," Miranda said softly, her voice carrying a weight of understanding. "No one should ever have to feel so alone."

When Y/N mentioned their parents, Miranda's expression shifted, a flicker of sorrow crossing her features. "I'm deeply sorry for your loss," she murmured, her voice laced with genuine sympathy. "Lycan attacks can be devastating. Your strength in facing such tragedy is admirable."

As Y/N hesitated at Miranda's offer of a hug, Miranda respected their boundaries with a gentle nod. "Only if you feel comfortable, my dear," she assured them, her tone warm and reassuring.

With cautious acceptance, Y/N leaned into Miranda's embrace, feeling the comforting warmth of her presence envelop them like a protective cloak. Miranda's touch was gentle, her movements slow and deliberate, as she wrapped her arms around them in a gesture of comfort and reassurance.

As Miranda stroked their hair with tender affection, Y/N felt a sense of peace wash over them, a fleeting moment of solace amidst the chaos of their world. And as they pulled away from the hug, a hesitant smile tugging at their lips, they found themselves trusting this woman in a way they never thought possible.

With a soft rustle of fabric, Miranda replaced her mask, the enigmatic facade once again in place. "Come, child," she said, her voice gentle yet commanding. "I have a place where you will be safe."

As they walked together in companionable silence towards Castle Dimitrescu, Y/N couldn't help but notice the grandeur of their surroundings, the imposing walls of the castle looming overhead like silent sentinels. But though questions tugged at their mind, they remained unspoken, for now content to follow Miranda's lead.

Entering the castle, they were met by a maid, whose eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Miranda. "Are you here to speak with Lady Dimitrescu, ma'am?" she asked, her voice deferential.

Miranda nodded, her gaze unwavering. "Yes, please inform her of our arrival," she replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

As the maid scurried off to relay the message, Y/N glanced up at Miranda, curiosity and uncertainty warring within them. "Where are we going?" they ventured to ask, their voice barely above a whisper.

Miranda's smile was gentle, her eyes filled with a promise of sanctuary. "You'll see, my dear," she replied cryptically, her hand resting reassuringly on Y/N's shoulder as they ventured deeper into the heart of the castle.

As Miranda led Y/N to the second floor of the castle, their heart hammered in their chest with each echoing step. The air felt charged with anticipation as Miranda knocked on a door, the sound reverberating through the quiet corridor. A muffled voice answered from within, and Miranda pushed the door open, ushering Y/N into the room.

Inside, a woman adorned in a cream-colored dress, a striking black hat perched upon her head, and leather gloves adorning her hands, turned to greet them. It was Lady Dimitrescu herself, her presence commanding attention as she rose from her seat, towering over them with an imposing stature that sent a shiver down Y/N's spine.

Y/N's eyes widened in awe and trepidation as they beheld the formidable figure before them. They instinctively took a step back, their breath catching in their throat, but Miranda's reassuring presence at their side anchored them in the moment.

"It's alright, my dear," Miranda murmured, her voice a soothing balm against the rising tide of fear. "Lady Dimitrescu won't harm you. She just wants to talk."

Slowly, Lady Dimitrescu approached, her movements deliberate and measured as she knelt down before Y/N, her gaze gentle yet penetrating. "What is your name, child?" she asked, her voice carrying a warmth that belied her intimidating exterior.

Y/N's gaze dropped to the floor, their fingers twisting nervously in the fabric of their shirt. They mumbled a response, barely audible above the rush of their own heartbeat.

Miranda interjected, her voice calm yet firm. "Their name is Y/N," she said, her eyes meeting Lady Dimitrescu's with a silent understanding. "I would like to speak with you privately for a moment, if you don't mind."

Lady Dimitrescu nodded, her gaze lingering on Y/N for a moment longer before turning to Miranda. "Of course," she replied, her tone betraying none of the curiosity that flickered in her eyes. "We can speak in the study."

As Y/N waited alone in the room, a strange buzzing sound began to fill the air, growing louder with each passing moment. Their heart raced with apprehension as they turned towards the source of the noise, eyes widening in surprise as three figures materialized before them.

The first, with flowing blonde hair and piercing yellow eyes, stepped forward, her presence exuding an air of confidence and elegance. "Well, well, what do we have here?" she purred, her voice smooth as silk as she regarded Y/N with a curious gaze.

Y/N's breath caught in their throat as they tried to find their voice, the weight of the three women's scrutiny bearing down upon them. With a shaky breath, they managed to whisper their name, barely audible above the hum of uncertainty that filled the room.

The blonde woman smiled, a predatory gleam dancing in her eyes. "Ah, a visitor," she mused, her tone laced with amusement. "Well, little one, allow me to introduce myself. I am Bela."

As she spoke, Y/N took in her features, noting the drained mascara that framed her eyes, the bloodstains that adorned her lips like a twisted smile. Despite her ethereal beauty, there was something undeniably unsettling about her presence.

Beside her stood two other women, each bearing a striking resemblance to Bela in both appearance and demeanor. Daniela, with her fiery red hair and intense gaze, and Cassandra, with her dark locks and stoic expression, completed the trio, their presence looming over Y/N like silent guardians.

Together, they formed a formidable trio, their allegiance to House Dimitrescu evident in the flower tattoos that adorned their foreheads. And as they regarded Y/N with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue, the air crackled with an unspoken tension, a silent invitation into the mysterious world of Castle Dimitrescu.

As the conversation flowed between them, Bela and Daniela peppered Y/N with questions, their curiosity piqued by the presence of this newcomer in their midst. Cassandra, however, remained aloof, her gaze flickering between her sisters and Y/N, uncertainty etched upon her features.

As the evening wore on, Y/N's exhaustion became palpable, their eyelids growing heavy with weariness. Sensing their fatigue, Bela gently inquired about Miranda and her mother's departure, her voice tinged with concern.

Y/N blinked owlishly, trying to recall the details of their departure. "I'm not sure," they admitted softly, their gaze wandering around the room until it landed on a clock hanging on the wall, its hands pointing to the late hour of 10 pm.

With a sigh, Bela guided Y/N to the couch, settling them between herself and Daniela. Daniela, ever the nurturing sister, retrieved a book and began to read aloud, the sound of her voice a soothing lullaby that washed over Y/N like a gentle breeze.

As the words of the story wove a tapestry of dreams, Y/N's eyelids drooped lower and lower, until at last, they succumbed to the embrace of sleep. Their head lolled to the side, coming to rest against Bela's shoulder, and she adjusted their position with a gentle touch, ensuring their comfort as she stroked their hair with tender affection.

Across the room, Cassandra watched silently, her expression unreadable as she observed the scene before her. But beneath her stoic facade, a flicker of something akin to warmth stirred within her, a newfound curiosity kindled by the presence of this enigmatic stranger in their home.

As Bela and Daniela exchanged whispers, their voices hushed with a mixture of curiosity and concern, Cassandra remained silent, her thoughts swirling like shadows in the depths of her mind.

"Did you notice anything strange about them?" Cassandra interjected suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet of the room like a sharp blade.

Bela and Daniela exchanged glances, their brows furrowing in contemplation. "Not particularly," Bela replied, her tone thoughtful. "Why, did you?"

Cassandra nodded, her expression grave. "There were a few things," she admitted, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "They seemed... different somehow."

Bela's brow furrowed in concern. "Different how?" she pressed, her gaze searching Cassandra's face for answers.

Cassandra hesitated, her words carefully measured as she recounted her observations. "They had intense interests in specific topics, and their speech lacked inflection," she began, ticking off the points on her fingers. "They also displayed signs of anxiety, fidgeting, sensitivity to light and noise, and various tics and stimming behaviors."

Bela's eyes widened in realization, her thoughts racing as she considered Cassandra's words. "Do you think... they might be autistic?" she ventured, her voice soft with uncertainty.

Cassandra shrugged, her expression unreadable. "It's possible," she conceded, her tone cautious. "Perhaps we can ask them about it when they wake up."

Just then, the door opened, and Miranda and Alcina returned, their presence filling the room with a sense of calm authority. Miranda's gaze softened as she beheld Y/N asleep against Bela, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Bela turned to Alcina, her brow furrowed with concern. "What's going to happen now?" she asked, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Alcina's expression softened as she regarded her daughters. "If Y/N decides to stay, they will be welcomed into our home," she explained gently. "But if not... well, we'll deal with that when the time comes."

Bela nodded in understanding, her thoughts racing with the weight of the decision that lay ahead. As she gently roused Y/N from their slumber, their eyes fluttered open, confusion etched upon their features as they took in the sight of Miranda and Lady Dimitrescu standing before them.

Miranda's voice was gentle as she explained the situation, giving Y/N time to process the offer that lay before them. And as they took a moment to consider their options, Alcina posed the question that hung heavy in the air.

"Would you like to stay with us, Y/N?" she asked, her tone soft with genuine concern.

After a moment of contemplation, Y/N met Alcina's gaze with a determined nod. "Yes," they replied, their voice steady with newfound resolve. "I would like that."

As Miranda reassured Y/N of their safety and well-being, a sense of relief washed over them, tempered by a lingering hint of hesitation. But as Miranda made to leave, Y/N's eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty, a silent plea for reassurance.

"Remember, my dear, you are in good hands," Miranda said, her voice soft with genuine care. "I will return in a few days to check up on you, and I'll come by weekly to see how you're adjusting."

Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of their lips. "Thank you, Miranda," they murmured, their gratitude evident in every word.

With a nod of acknowledgment, Miranda took her leave, her departure leaving an echo of quietude in her wake. Alcina stepped forward, her presence a comforting anchor in the sea of uncertainty.

"Come, Y/N," she said gently, her voice warm with reassurance. "Let me show you to your room."

But before they could move, Cassandra interjected, her voice filled with a quiet determination. "Mother, I have a question for Y/N," she said, her gaze fixed on her mother's face.

Y/N's heart skipped a beat at the prospect of yet another interrogation, their anxiety bubbling to the surface like a turbulent storm. But Daniela was quick to offer a reassuring smile, her voice a soothing balm against the rising tide of panic.

"Don't worry, little one," she said, her tone gentle yet firm. "It's nothing bad, I promise."

With a hesitant nod, Y/N braced themselves for whatever question lay ahead, their mind a whirlwind of uncertainty and apprehension. 

As Cassandra posed her question, a heavy silence descended upon the room, broken only by the sound of Y/N's quickening breaths. Their muscles tensed, every nerve on edge as they grappled with the weight of their answer.

Cassandra's gaze was steady, her expression a mix of curiosity and concern as she awaited Y/N's response. "Are you autistic?" she asked, her voice gentle yet direct.

"Yes," they whispered, their voice barely above a whisper, but it echoed loudly in the quiet of the room. "Yes, I am."

Instantly, a torrent of nervous energy flooded through them, their words tumbling out in a rush of panicked apology. "But if that's a problem, I can leave, I'll find somewhere else to stay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause any trouble, I-"

But before they could spiral further into self-doubt, Alcina moved with a grace born of years of experience, kneeling before them and gently lifting their chin with a touch as light as a feather. She smiled reassuringly, her eyes warm with understanding.

"Shh, child, it's alright," she murmured, her voice a soothing melody that calmed the storm raging within Y/N's mind. "Just breathe."

As Y/N's frantic apologies subsided, Alcina listened patiently, her daughters and Cassandra gathered around in a circle of support. And as Y/N poured out their fears and insecurities, recounting the hurtful reactions of others in the past, Alcina's heart ached with a newfound understanding.

"You are not most people," she said firmly, her voice filled with conviction. "You are here with us now, and we are here for you. Your identity is not a problem; it is a part of who you are, and we accept you for it."

Moved by her words, Bela and Daniela stepped forward, their arms open in a silent invitation. "Are you okay with a hug?" Bela asked softly, her eyes filled with empathy.

Y/N nodded, a small smile tugging at their lips as they leaned into the embrace, feeling the warmth and acceptance of their newfound family enveloping them like a comforting embrace. And as they stood there, held in the embrace of those who now stood by their side, they knew, in that moment, that they were home.

With Y/N enveloped in the warmth of their embrace, Bela and Daniela exchanged glances, their expressions soft with empathy. Cassandra approached cautiously, her movements tentative as she joined the circle, her gaze meeting Y/N's with a newfound sense of understanding.

"Thank you," Y/N whispered, their voice tinged with gratitude as they leaned into the comforting embrace of their newfound family.

Bela's smile was gentle as she tightened her hold, a silent reassurance that they were welcome here, just as they were. "You're part of our family now," she murmured, her words echoing the sentiment shared by all.

As the embrace lingered, Alcina's gaze swept over her daughters and Y/N, her heart swelling with a sense of belonging that she hadn't felt in years. "Let us show you to your room," she said, her voice warm with affection.

Together, they moved as one, a united front against the uncertainties of the world beyond. And as they ventured down the halls of Castle Dimitrescu, Y/N felt a sense of peace settle over them, a quiet reassurance that they had found their place in this enigmatic world.

As they reached the threshold of Y/N's new room, Alcina turned to them with a smile, her eyes soft with motherly affection. "Welcome home," she said, her voice a gentle promise of the love and acceptance that awaited them within these walls.

As Y/N took in the sight of their new room, a sense of wonder filled their heart. The soft glow of candlelight danced across the walls, casting shadows that seemed to whisper tales of centuries past. It was a room filled with history and mystery, a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the world beyond.

As they turned to thank their newfound family, they found themselves alone in the quiet of the room with only Alcina present. The echoes of their footsteps mingled with the hushed whispers of the night, a symphony of solitude that enveloped them like a comforting embrace.

Just as they were about to settle into their new surroundings, Alcina's voice broke the silence, her presence a comforting presence in the dimly lit room. "My room is right down the hall, dear," she said softly, her words carrying a sense of warmth and reassurance. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

With a grateful nod, Y/N watched as Alcina approached, her movements graceful and deliberate. Cupping Y/N's cheek gently in her hand, Alcina leaned down to press a tender kiss to their forehead, a silent promise of protection and affection.

"Goodnight, my child," Alcina murmured, her voice a soothing melody that echoed in the stillness of the night. "Sleep well."

With a smile tugging at their lips, Y/N settled into their new bed, their heart filled with gratitude for the family that had welcomed them with open arms. And as they drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the warmth and love of their new home, they knew, in that moment, that they were finally where they belonged. 

[writers-requiem]

Title: Confession

Pairing: Hank McCoy x Reader

Genre: Romantic fluff

TW: None.

Summary: You finally work up the courage to tell your crush how you feel.

Request: No

A/N: This takes place in my own little AU where they found and brought back Charles. Just for context. Also, things get a little spicy, but not NSFW.

Okay, let's take it back to where it started.

About two years ago, you had joined the X-Men. Yes, you, a non-mutant.

They had repeatedly tried to convince you not to, but the professor saw a great potential in you that need only manifest with the right trigger.

Regardless, you went on a myriad of missions while paired with some of the other X-Men; Cyclops, Gambit, Ice Man, Rouge, Jean Gray, Wolverine, Colossus, Shadow Cat, and most notably, our focus for this story, Beast. In other words, your crush, Dr. Hank McCoy.

Whenever it was you two on missions, you felt unbeatable, yet at the same time, exceptionally worried. Of course you were worried about your other teammates. But when it was you and Hank, your anxiety hit an all-time high. This caused you to slip up at times and even get hit yourself. That of course made Hank upset. But when you were conscious when that happened, you saw him unleash an almost primal rage on the enemy, namely the MRD soldiers that showed no remorse for what they did to you.

There were a couple times when the MRD captured you and tortured you for info on the professor and the X-Men. You didn't talk and were nearly killed for it. But who came to your rescue? Hank. Alone. No plan, no fancy displays, just bulldozing through the hoard of soldiers and guards. And when he left with you in tow, he carried you bridal style, like a cliche action hero carrying their love interest after a big rescue mission.

But the anxiety of the battlefield and getting kidnapped is easily trounced by the social anxiety you felt when it was just you and Hank in a more laid back situation. Namely when you were in his lab.

No matter how long it had been since you had first developed your crush on him, you still felt insecure about opening up. But you already knew that Charles would've read your mind to find out, but he respected your wishes and kept quiet.

Back to present day however.

You were just sitting in the lab, unsure of what to say or do since he was busy and you didn't feel like interrupting his work. Besides, even if you did want to talk, you couldn't think of what to talk about since you were always so afraid to spend any amount of time with him outside of missions. So you just played with your hair and thumbs somewhat awkwardly. That was until he spoke up.

Hank: "If you have something that you feel must be said, speak it. There's no need to be so shy with me, my friend."

His kind words of encouragement only made you even more nervous than before. You dared not move or speak, fearing that you would say or do something inappropriate.

But he surprises you first by standing up from his desk and then swiftly pulling you close to his chest.

Hank: "I'm not oblivious to your feelings, sweetheart."

He gently caresses your cheek and plants a soft kiss on your lips. An action that you never thought he'd do for you.

In that one moment you felt a storm of emotions take you all at once. Relief, bliss and ecstasy. Finally, after nearly two years, he noticed your feelings, acknowledged them and reciprocated them. You felt whole.

You held each other closer and kissed again. This time it was a longer, deeper, more passionate kiss.

One of his hands held you by the waist and the other on the back of your head, gently caressing it.

His tongue was pushing against yours in a one-sided struggle for dominance. His coming out on top.

Your hands however were too preoccupied feeling up his torso, starting at the waist and going up. First passing his solid six pack abs, then higher before stopping to caress and scratch his rock hard pecs that were still visible underneath his green shirt.

He instinctively and hastily removes his lab coat and pins you to the wall, one arm resting against it and above your head. While the other slid up your torso, only he went inside your shirt.

You could feel his furry hand and the razor sharp claws slid up until stopping at your middle section.

The combination of both of your moans through your kissing filled the room with a hot and heavy atmosphere. You couldn't help yourself and squeezed his pecs hungrily before having them crawl up to scratch his cheeks and mutton chops.

But eventually, you two pulled away from each other to give yourselves some air. Leaving you two gasping and panting, out of breath.

You then shared a quick peck on your lips and hugged each other.

Hank: "I love you."

Y/N: "I love you too, Hank."

End

[blueberryarchive]

—the sketch and the smaller eye; kth

Lonely man Kim Taehyung leads a fairly stable routine in his life away from civilization affected by an infection without a cure. Stability ends the day you arrive, no one knows how you got there, but one thing is for sure: Taehyung won't let you go.

🌿pairing; Artist!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

🌿word count; 8.1k

🌿tw; widower!tae, post-apocalitic scenario, mentions of disease, weight loss and death, very brief mention of arms, age gap (21 & 30-ish), smut (manhandling, whiNY Taehyung, edging, spanking, oral (f. receiving), creampie, dirty talk), gruesome details of the virus.

🌿themes; strangers to lovers, slow burning, cottage-core.

🌿inspired by; ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᵐʸ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᶠᵃⁿᶠⁱᶜ ⁱⁿ ᵉⁿᵍˡⁱˢʰ ᵖˡˢ ᵇᵉ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The walk all the way home was always one of his favorite things to do when it was hunting day, the way the wind danced between the dying leaves and made music inside the hollow trees, the sun setting with the most beautiful tones of pink. It always reminded him of the times he spent just drawing all alone until you came into his land.

The day was August 8th, the heat was overbearing and like all of the other days around the same time, probably four or five (he wouldn't know because his only clock died a year ago), Taehyung sat down in the shadow of an old oak tree that has been his only friend, besides his dog, since he came to this lonely and God-forgotten place, were he was blessed and cursed with solitude and the cruel nature.

He had a small tin box with all of his drawing supplies, broken pencils, a piece of eraser gum the size of a nail, and a reddish tint drying up in a baby food crystal jar. Every day he told himself that he was making more yellow with the few sunflowers in his backyard, but today of all days he actually stood up to look for the petals.

The flowers were right outside the kitchen window, the sun was going down, and they were hunched over, withered, and full of little flying butterflies. His calloused hands took a pair of petals, the most vibrant and alive.

The sudden sound of cracking leaves and the barking of his dog disturbed him.

Taehyung perfectly remembers the moment he saw your frightened eyes, the color of the sunset over your weak body clinging to a log, an improvised cane. Torn clothes, dry mouth like a corpse, wet hair for some reason. Did you cross the river?

The first reaction of both was primal, like two animals that didn't plan to meet. Taehyung only turned on the fireplace at night, only for a couple of hours, so as not to attract attention. 

So what were you doing there? Were you lost? Impossible, he was too far from civilization. Were you infected? The wolves would've eaten you by now. Either way, he didn't like the idea of someone new.

The petals sweated their amber ink on Taehyung's hand, you tried to maintain your position, your gaze... almost afraid to blink. The man was not afraid to take action, hand already inside his overall pocket. Without much, his hand raised a pistol, sleek and silver. He was pointing straight at your face, your hair in a ponytail revealing your exposed forehead, like an invitation to explode it with a bullet.

"No, please." You muttered. So soft and yet, Taehyung got scared hearing someone else's voice. It wasn't a growl, nor the crash of stones from the river, nor the rain, nor the cawing of crows, nor his own grunts when chopping wood, nor the barking from his old dog. "I'll go." You begged again, letting go of the log. Taehyung tensed, even more, hearing you again.

So soft and sad. So delicate when the world around was burning.

"Are you coming with someone else?" he growled, getting closer and looking around. The forest seemed quiet, and his dog would have warned him.

"No, just me."

"If you lie it'll be worse for you."

"I know." You lowered your head to avoid the black eye of the gun.

"Are you sick?" the question was simple. Taehyung was trying to look for signs of infection. He hadn't felt this fear since the last time he lost his wife to that fucking disease.

You denied it, slowly.

"Show me," he said with a lowered tone, calm eyes as you undressed as quickly as possible. No marks. Elbows, hands, neck, eyes. All clean. With a sigh from both, the barking stopped.

"Walk to the tree over there, and if you try to do anything funny I'm going to put every fucking bullet in your head," he said giving a simple condition. He started moving with you in front.

Without saying anything else, you both walked slowly to the trunk. The afternoon was already turning blue, cicadas were playing a tense melody. Your bare back revealed your vertebrae, hard balls under your skin looking as if it was going to break. You hugged yourself, trying to keep the heat of your body, perhaps even your modesty.

With a whistle, Frank appeared: an old dog with red eyes and floppy ears. Seeing the naked stranger, he growled loudly. Your hands began to tremble, the weapon and the animal made a cry of pain come out of you, a plea with tears falling down your ashy cheeks. But you didn't see a drop of mercy in Taehyung's eyes, you knew that having this kind of loneliness was not achieved without having to kill several from time to time.

The eyes of the man in front of you were unbending and cold, lips pressed into a thin line, thick hands gripping Frank's chain and his gun. Stains of watercolors and charcoal on his fingers.

"C'mon, buddy," he whispered and the dog came closer little by little to sniff your body. "Bend down." You obeyed.

The animal took its time sticking its wet nose into your hair and skin until it snorted as it sat down. Taehyung lowered the gun.

That was the beginning of your recovery, long days lying between rough, thick sheets. Yellowed pillows that smelled of Taehyung's hair, hand-rolled cigarettes on the nightstand. Every morning he would get up before the sun came up and carry his hunting artifacts over his shoulder. Frank stayed with you while you tried to kill time in the cabin.

You learned how to garden and cook, roll the cigars, and dry the tobacco in the sun. The books were plenty, but reading was an activity you only did if Taehyung was the one reading to you, he did it every night. Even when the fever was so high you couldn't keep up with the story.

When you were at your worst, he held your head to put you in one of his sweaters, and even left the crackling fire all night to keep you warm in the cold.

Every night he started, with a rough and tired voice, around 8 o'clock, to read you a chapter from a book of poems or letters; or the list of lost people in the old newspaper.

"I do it to keep me sane," he said. "I went a long period without saying a word, and I started to forget how to say them, my tongue used to get jammed." He explained to you while drawing an empty cup of tea next to you.

You could only tell him a couple of questions each night, he used to get tired very easily. The first two weeks you couldn't even pronounce two words before he started to lose his patience.

"You don't have to know anything about me," his eyebrows locked in a frown. "When you get better, you can go and it will be like we never met."

But now it has been three months, you think. You recovered pretty well, and you can do the chores while he's out. You try your best every day so he notices that you won't be a bother if he lets you stay.

He doesn't ask questions about how you came to be on this side of the river, and you thank him for that. The memories blurred in your mind, like a sketch that's been erased again and again. 

Taehyung get's home at sunset, you are outside breaking some newspapers into pieces. The notebooks he used to draw in were already full, so you decided to make him a new one. 

You are wearing a dress he found in an abandoned house, it was a teen size but he loves it. He doesn't know your age yet, but he knows you're probably in your early twenties. He loves when the sun is scorching hot and your only choice is to let your thighs and shoulders out while you cook and clean. The hem flows with the wind letting him see your bare ass while you put the paper to dry.

You two haven't had sex, you never gave him signs, maybe because he looked a little bit older. He never felt like he had to hide an inexistent lust, until a few weeks ago. 

Two, to be exact. 

You were in the nearest river. A flimsy white t-shirt, wine-drunk, and talking so much. You were so irksome with your questions. The cold water sticking the fabric to your body like marble while you asked about Taehyung's boring routine. Your babble was such, you started asking about him jerking off and how sex works in solitude.

The way you laughed made him blush with anger. Sketches he was trying to make from the water lilies turned into ones from your eyes. 

That day he had to take a cold shower in the river after leaving you by the fire in the house. His face was boiling red, tired of your babbling and hard as a log.

The idea of you making him horny made him mad for some reason; it made him feel like a high school boy, but it was natural. He had years without seeing a woman. And you were pretty. So pretty for no fucking reason.

He knew that being in his early thirties probably made him less attractive to you, he was a grumpy man, almost a caveman how he reacted to your ways. That's why he didn't try, not even think about it... not always.

Now you have him going to abandoned houses on the other side of the river, looking for things for you: like a small bottle of perfume, a broken mirror, and old photos of people who are probably dead by now. A way to show he cared without using words. 

When he got to the rock path, the crackle made you turn around, you were smiling like always, and his heart felt warm.

"I told you to do that earlier. The paper won't dry today," He grunted, acting more tired than he was so you leave everything behind and get near him. You get a cigar from a basket near you and light it for him. You pass it to him after taking a puff.

"But you can draw on one piece of paper."

"That's not how it works."

"It'll have to work."

Taehyung pressed his lips together, he knew you enjoyed arguing with him, but more than those few words would not come out of him. You rolled you eyes going back to hang the wet paper.

"I'm making dinner tonight," he muttered like ten minutes later and then silence again. Another cigar, the old Frank by his side while he watched the sunset disappear.

The reading hours were around six to seven, right after dinner. It was the same routine when you first stayed, and it is the same now: After dinner, he gets comfortable in bed, takes a cigarette from the nightstand, and with the gas lamp he lights the tip. Book in hand. 

The words he didn't say all day would overflow as he read chapter by chapter. In an appropriate tone, pauses at the commas, giving life to each character. A treat for the ears.

After looking for a book on the first floor, he entered the room and stood up, his eyes went to the corner where there was a broken mirror, and in its reflection, you were, combing your hair in a ponytail, so poorly done that it was better to leave it loose. But the strands that were floating in the air, in front of your eyes, made Taehyung's fingers tingle, wanting to take every strand and pull it towards him.

There was a heaviness in the air that early autumn night. The silence was thick, and the yellowish lamplight cast heavier shadows on every piece of furniture. Abrupt and defined as in a baroque painting.

The curve in which his eyes concentrated more were the ones that defined your waist and your stomach, how it bulged slightly like a hill stamped with the flowers of your skimpy dress.

"Turn around," you muttered, like you didn't care if he did it or not, as you started to remove your dress; snapping Taehyung out of the sketches he was drawing in his head. He went to open the window to let some of the heat out of the room, letting the smoke creep through the curtains.

"I think I know what I'm going to read to you today," he cleared his throat, looking down at his bare feet pacing anxiously across the room. The shadow of your silhouette moving on the floor, the bone-white nightgown falling on your curves, exposing one of Taehyung's weaknesses: the connection of your neck and your shoulders, subtle but lethal.

He wanted to press his face between and close his eyes, inhaling the scent of your skin. Rich and peachy, like when the trees have so much fruit that they start to ripen on the same tree.

"You haven't finished showing me the stamp book yet." You dropped on the bed.

"I'm already bored of it."

"Odd." you noticed, watching him bend down and open a suitcase under the bed. "And those?" As you approached you saw a collection of books.

They were small, wrinkled, and minimalist in cover. Some were yellowed papers seized by the red wax on the spine.

Taehyung snorted at the question and looked up, daring you to keep acting innocent. He knew that you knew every corner of the house.

"I want you to say it," you smiled.

"Force me."

"I want you to say that Taehyung, the hard-faced man, has a collection of erotic books under his bed."

"You already said it. I don't have the need."

"Why do you have it under the bed?"

"What are you talking about?" Taehyung moved the books until he found a small book in Spanish. The pink cover with a painting of a mischievous Renaissance woman smiling.

"Kept under the bed, in a suitcase. Like a secret."

"I'm not ashamed of reading erotica if that's what you assume." he closed the suitcase and dropped his body next to you. His head near your legs, yours lying on the opposite side.

"And why do you have it like they're illegal." you held the cigarette he offered you.

"Habits of a human who lived in a society, I suppose."

You inhale the cigarette while he searched for the short between his long fingers, the book opened softly. His thumb pressed down the middle of the pages.

The glass of wine had you sparkling, you still hadn't gotten used to the alcohol. You had not drunk in so long that you did not remember its effects. There was something on the tip of your tongue, a confession that couldn't wait, an itch that needed to be scratched.

Before you could speak, Taehyung let out a soft "Ah" as he found the story for the night.

"A man who came about five years ago translated this story by Anaïs Nin for me. When he found out that I painted, he told me that he had a story for me."

"What's it called?" Without realizing it, your hand began to caress Taehyung's leg.

"La Maja," he pronounced. "Like Goya's painting"

Your head fell back on the stacked pillows, Taehyung's lips moved as he read a homemade translation of the story.

"He pulled back the sheets that covered her and slowly lifted the silk nightgown. He was able to lift it over her breasts without her giving the slightest sign of awakening. When it was uncovered all over the woman's body, he contemplated it for as long as he wanted. Her arms were detached from her body; her breasts stretched out before his eyes like an offering. He was aroused by his desire but he did not dare to touch her. Instead, he brought paper and pencils, sat by her bedside, and took notes. As he worked, he had the sensation of caressing each of the perfect lines of the woman's body."

Taehyung's eyes would lift to yours after reading the paragraph, turning back to the page with embarrassment flushing his cheeks. The human habit of blushing when you want things so badly, he thought.

The smoke from the dying cigar between your fingers snaked through your hair and the softness of your chin. Taehyung was never more jealous of something so ephemeral.

He couldn't find where he had stayed and the silence became so loud that you could only do what was right.

"I followed you today."

"What?" Taehyung didn't understand, you had spoken so low that he almost didn't notice it.

"To the woods, when you left this morning."

When he closed the book, you knew that what little sweetness Kim showed you turned sour. 

"I have told you that you must stay here, with Frank. Safe." You both got up at the same time, you followed Taehyung looking for his gaze which he averted.

"I'm not asking you to keep me safe, Kim" you replied.

There was a pause as he pricked at his bottom lip. Was that in his pupils the sign of an offense? Taehyung clucked at you, turning around.

"Kim," you tried to fix it by brushing against his shoulder. "It's not that I'm a helpless deer, I know how to protect myself." You laughed to lighten the mood. Bad idea.

A question, like a small forgotten flame, reappeared in Taehyung's brain. Out of courtesy when you got sick in the first few weeks, he didn't ask where you came from, why you were alone, or how you came to cross the wide river that divided a civilization almost thousands of kilometers to the left. When politeness turned to infatuation, the question was no longer so important. He felt that he could trust you and that he had a new purpose besides survival: to keep you safe.

Fallacies.

"How did you come to find me?"

"What?" the smile faded from your face.

"I'm not going to repeat myself."

Your eyes moved erratically in his gesture, a frown. Just like when you came in drenched that August. No trust.

"Don't know."

He just snorted denying, he didn't believe you, and that irritated you.

"Sure, of course."

"Do you think I'm lying to you?"

"I don't believe it, I know." His body moved from side to side, arranging books and picking things up off the ground.

Your flushed face and clenched fists. Boiling alcohol in your veins.

"Well, you can go to hell with your lonely man farce."

"OK." Taehyung sighed daring you to continue insulting him.

"You do know that things aren't as horrible as at the start of the pandemic anymore, right?"

"Oh yeah?" His eyes widened in theatrical surprise.

"The infected are controlled and-," Seeing how he continued to feign interest, you pushed him aside and grabbed your dress from the floor, beginning to change. Tears accumulated without permission in your eyes. "Whatever," you mumbled.

"Then you do know something about your past."

"Fuck you, Kim."

"No, because you lied to me and now you say things like how you know how to defend yourself in a forest full of wild wolves and that you traveled several kilometers by water and land to get here. And you want me not to ask questions about it." He moved closer to you so close that he could see the torment in your eyes.

"Exactly." You muttered putting on your garden boots.

"That request is absurd and you know it." his laugh was careless. He was drunk too.

"I know."

You both stared at each other, your hair was no longer tied up and its shadow hid both of your features under its shadow. Your lips parted at the sight of his.

"I don't remember how I got to this place," you whispered, a tear fell to your cheek and you cursed how sensitive alcohol made you. You saw how Taehyung's face softened in the presence of your pain. "I swear I would have told you if I knew."

Taehyung swallowed hard and looked out the window. He hated seeing others cry, he hated when his wife did it, and he hates seeing it now in your lost gaze. There was something in the way you were, in the quality of your emotions and your hope in everything that reminded him so much of her. His wife died at the same age you were.

Taehyung and her were both idiots and thought that living far away was all it took to escape the infection.

It was stupid of him to let her go hunting alone that day, he shouldn't have let a simple fever keep him in bed when she was out there.

He spent years waiting for her to come back. Waiting for some afternoon that he will hear her quick steps coming down the gravel road. Much later, he found a piece of her shirt floating on the bank of a river.

Taehyung closed his eyes and nodded. It was dangerous to let you stay, he still didn't fully trust you. But what was the use of being alone so much when he only waited for the next day and the day after until one day he could die naturally?

Your body tensed as his hand rose to sink into your hair and kiss your forehead. So delicate, without causing any noise.

"Sleep well," he whispered leaving the book on the table. His chest hurt with the immense amount of feelings you make him feel in one day.

It's overbearing and he loved it. But his poor soul needed time.

For the first time in all that time together, he decided to sleep on the first floor.

You didn't know what to say, you were already ready for him to just ask you to leave. So you were thankful he actually just…left.

When the door creaked shut, you let loneliness engulf you. You cried, glued to the pillow like a child. Of relief, of uncertainty, for that kiss.

The days are long when there is nothing to say. When you don't look at him, when you ignore him with your unsubtle ways: you leave your clothes poorly folded, you don't finish the dishes he makes for you, your cigarettes are badly rolled, and you punish him by wearing those shirts that reveal your cleavage.

If you knew what you did to him, would you take advantage of him? Would he hate it?

Taehyung can feel your eyes on his back as he tries to light the fireplace at night, the cold is cruel in the mountains, even crueler than the tension in the small living room. You find yourself sitting watching the flame grow and grow, Taehyung trying to appear as calm as possible as if he didn't have the gears of his brain fed up trying to figure out how to talk to you.

Apart from a 'what do you want for dinner?', a 'yes' or a 'no'.

He felt he talked more with poor Frank, who slept about eighteen hours a day.

He cleared his throat at the smoke and held up his hand for more newspaper. You gave it instantly. And suddenly, a miracle: for the first time in weeks, your voice.

"Tomorrow is my birthday," you said embarrassedly, arms crossed.

With a tight-lipped smile on Kim's mouth, he nodded and looked into your tired eyes.

Your voice was still just as sweet and calm, you wanted to try to sound weary. But he noticed every afternoon when he came home from hunting, the way you moved through the little orchard and sang while you bathed Frank. Your laughter was his antidote, it healed his tiredness and the ache of his soul.

"We should celebrate it." He proposed, but you instantly denied it.

"I want you to take me."

"What do you mean?" he blushed, looking deep into your eyes.

"Take me somewhere."

Taehyung dropped the newspaper on the fire. He sighed softly, (not in relief, but disappointed) and sat in the old chair in the corner, legs apart as he rolled a cigarette.

"Where do you want to go?"

"To the house on top." you pointed east.

"How do you know there's a house on top?"

"Because I saw it in your drawings." your pupils let you see its shine for the first time in weeks. The cold made you look so beautiful. The little contact he had with you, he missed it so much.

Your cheeks took on color with the coming of winter, your lips like two slices of ripe fruit, red and full of juice. "And I found your binoculars in the warehouse."

"Mm," he couldn't even get mad at you and your insatiable curiosity. He was glad to hear you. Besides, who was he to deny you going up to that abandoned mansion, even when fear consumed him that they would attack you?

"Sure, we'll go." you let the corner of your lips rise, Taehyung feigned seriousness. "But it can't be tomorrow. We need at least two days of walking to get there, and we have to prepare."

You licked your lips and got up, letting the cloth that wrapped you from head to toe fall to your shoulders. You raised your arms, and Taehyung frowned, not understanding the gesture.

"Come here, it's almost twelve, and I'm going to be twenty-one."

Although they both knew that no clock gave them a certain time, Kim didn't care and you less. Leaving the cigarette next to him, he stood up and awkwardly let his strong arms swallow you, your head on his chest.

The hug was a thank you from you, but with just a few more seconds, you realized that Taehyung didn't want to let go. You opened your eyes, he could feel your confusion.

"Just-" he stammered, tensing his arms a little more to bring you closer to the warmth of his body. Silence.

Rich and peachy.

"What?"

"No, nevermind."

"Kim." you wanted to look at his eyes but didn't let you.

"I haven't hugged anyone in years." he murmured, a sigh of relief.

The confession made your chest sink. The breathing of the man in your arms was soft and ragged. As if he was nervous.

"Can you play with my hair?" he hummed, timid and needy, warming your shoulder with his breath; chills covering your skin.

You let your fingers explore his fluffy hair, the little ripples covering your palm and fingertips. You heard another sigh from him and felt how his arms slid to hug the sides of your waist.

"Feels good?" you dared to ask, breathing the musk on his jacket. He just nodded longingly, closed eyes and brows knitted; the crackle of the fire in the fireplace melting his heart.

Your throat was dry, and your lips parted, God knows you wanted to enjoy that hug, how Taehyung bent his body slightly to hide his head in your neck. Perhaps it was the lack of contact or the fire in the fireplace, but your body bubbled over a slow fire with each exhale that collided with your neck.

"Tae-" you swallowed and grabbed his shoulders so he could see you.

The drunkenness in the eyes of the man in front of you was so short but so sweet. Discovering his attitude, he pricked the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat.

"Sorry, don't worry about the trip. We can start packing tomorrow."

"I think I remember some of what happened to me."

"Oh." His eyes widened, gesturing as he tried to ask you to explain. You loved the gestures that came out of Taehyung when he didn't know the protocol of conversations. It wasn't 'thank you', but a tightening of the lips into a brief smile; no 'Don't move' when he painted but a little grunt and a deny.

You both took a seat on the furniture and got as close as possible, there was no one around, but this was how both of you got used to talking to each other. Whispers, watching each other's lips and laughter, when it was intended, with the hand on the mouth.

"I remember a boat, I remember several women and two men," you murmured, your eyes tilted into the fire. "A group came on another boat and threw us on the shore, they beat the men so much that they died and left the women to suffer."

Kim bit the inside of his cheek, he knew the day you would remember your past would be difficult. The beginning of the lethal virus was so surreal for him.

"I don't remember their faces much, just their hair. I remember…one feverish night, the women covered me with a blue coat that they had taken from one of the men." your hand trembled, and Taehyung took it without hesitating. "When I woke up, they were all in stage two."

Stage two of the virus was when their bodies began to slow down, sleep being the main activity, even at times when they needed to urinate. Your body didn't feel like getting up.

Taehyung remembers how one of his college classmates slept fully for two days, he opened his eyes when called but closed them instantly.

"When I saw them I thought the same thing was going to happen to me, apparently they killed an infected animal and ate it among themselves without giving me a piece. I don't blame them. I also thought the fever was going to kill me that night," you shrugged. "When I woke up I found trash, fruit, and headless bugs on the floor. The virus searched for everything it could to feed before going into coma…, and then, um-"

Your gaze drifted away, as if you saw the women sprawled on their backs with their mouths open and sunken eyes on the cabin rug.

"Their bodies started to swell, their chests and stomachs and throats. The eggs-" you denied and Taehyung felt chills. "They began to grow and incubate, I cried for hours and hours in silence, sitting on a log." your voice quivered. "I crossed the river at low tide, and stayed on the rocks to wait."

"You were sent to explore the area. You were the same as I was years ago." Taehyung bit his lip, squeezing your hand.

"I don't understand."

"I thought they didn't send scouts to this area anymore. The infection is so old I thought they wouldn't need any more information."

"What do you mean when you say you were the same?" You frowned and stared at him.

"I was a soldier, my family needed money, and the doctors found a way to make us think they could save my dad from the virus." the memories made his tense neck move involuntarily. "They sent me to this side to find information about the virus, the source."

"You and how many others?"

Taehyung shook his head with a sad smile. Maybe he was even making up the story of his father getting sick, who knows at this point?

"I still don't remember. I just know that I kept walking and walking wit this girl by my side,until we found this hill, and even she disappeared."

They both fell silent. Taehyung had already told you about the disappearance of his wife, unlike other topics, this was the one that seemed like a fable. There were no traces, like smoke that vanished on a sunset.

You can see on his eyes that ache every time he mentions her; you wish you could lick his old wounds, not to cure them, but to soothe the pain.

The way he was holding your hand and the fire trembling on his tan skin made him look like an angel. An untamed one leaves instead of feathers, strong arms to carry the world around him.

You couldn't take it anymore.

"Taehyung," you called, and he didn't have to move because your hand took him by surprise. Guiding him to your hungry lips.

He moaned lowly, making his free hand into a fist to control the euphoria that was running through his body. The wet sound of your mouths devouring each other, he didn't know how much he needed that, the warmth of your tongue licking his lips, the little pant coming out of your strawberry lips.

Oh, how much he hated the fact that he was getting hard just from a kiss, but how couldn't he, good God? You were so delicious.

He snatched his hand from yours and took both of your hands to squeeze above your head. Your back arched, and you mewled as you felt his hand squeeze your wrists.

Taehyung's eyes flickered to your face. Was he doubting what he was doing? Did you do something wrong?

"If you want to stop-"

"No," he growled desperately. With ease, his free hand grabbed the hair at the nape of your neck and kissed you again, clashing teeth.

"Slow down, Kim." you gasped as he devoured your neck, covering in saliva the fabric of the coat that covered you, almost tearing it apart.

Your hand explored his corduroy pants until it reached the tight bulge against his thigh.

"No. I don't want to," he screeched as he watched what you were doing. "Please, I'm too sensitive right now." It was a plea for you to let him enjoy touching you for a few more minutes, his glassy eyes and red lips.

You were cruel, and God, how he hated you for that. You chuckled low and spread your legs to climb into his lap. The sudden movement knocked the air out of him, hands on either side of the couch.

In one sitting, you were pressing his cock against your clothed pussy.

"Oh no, please. Let me-," his hands went to his mouth, squeezing it hard, the words coming out muffled.

With so few moans he had you addicted to his susceptibility. To his droopy eyes and his angelic whimpers over every little thing you did.

"Please," he asked again but it was in vain when you started moving back and forth and licking his neck. "Fuck me, i can't. Baby-" he mumbled rolling his eyes, reaching heaven with so little. The 'baby' scaped again and again from his lips until it died out.

It was embarrassing, but so sublime.

You loved it. No. You became obsessed.

When he finished, you could feel the wetness on his thigh. You laughed again, taking his face in your fingers; he hung from your fingertips like a puppet. His chin resting on them.

"You look so cute when you're sweaty in the middle of a blizzard," you said. He closed his eyes, enjoying the compliment.

Without saying anything else, leaving a wet spot on top of his zipper and his mouth open; you got up and went up the rustic stairs.

You were going to be the death of him.

The morning arrives quietly and with the sun coming in gently through the windows, you are grateful that the snow has stopped as you get up to put on your socks. Frank was sleeping between woolen sheets in the closet. When he heard you calling him he opened his eyes and lazily moved his thick tail.

The bed was made on Taehyung's side. Last night you hardly slept thinking about what you two had done in the living room, you waited anxiously for him to go to the room to finish what you had started, but you fell asleep waiting for him.

Maybe he was upset because you rushed him or he was embarrassed. Either way, you could still feel the moisture your pussy had let out just thinking about his face coming. Like a broken record, just as his pelvis raised to make one last contact with your clit.

You sighed and let the cool water calm your arousal. The small mirror showed your reflection, you were pale. Since the sun doesn't rise so often, you feel like you're withering. The tinting of your cheeks was already disappearing.

Your eyes were guided to the small photo pasted on the mirror, it was an ID with your face. The ink on the image was fading, with your name and date of birth right next to it.

It was the only thing you had for sure, maybe your face wasn't even that one. You returned to your reflection and began to notice every little detail: the dark circles under your eyes and the dry lips from biting them so much, the slightly yellowish teeth, and the eye that was smaller than the other. 

That's new, you thought. Only if you looked hard enough could you see how your right eye involuntarily closed a little more than the other, the more you looked at it in the mirror, the more obvious it was.

The sound of a pot falling followed by a grunt made you snap out of your morning exam. You walked quickly to the stairs going down in a hurry.

You were surprised to see Taehyung in the kitchen, his hands covered in whipped cream and the sweet smell of freshly baked bread. A small tight smile apologizing for waking you up.

"Uh," he wiped his hands clean and leaned closer to you, placing an awkward kiss on your forehead. "Happy Birthday."

"Thank you." You smiled softly, his hand found yours to guide you to the rustic table that he had made years ago, it was heavy and robust. It combined with everything that was seen in that kitchen, small details you had done here and there, but the smell of oak and the thick fabric of the curtains and the tablecloth were essentially Taehyung.

"I made you breakfast. You must eat it all or I'm really going to stop talking to you for a month."

As if he could.

"Because?"

"I spent all night trying to make whipped cream, found a book in the stack and it took me almost a dozen eggs to get it right."

"That's where you were last night." You smiled and he tensed, embarrassment painting his cheeks red. "Did you need a book to know how to follow our...?" You made an obscene gesture that made Taehyung turn to finish breakfast.

"You are so intense in the mornings."

"You've stopped smoking in the morning, have you noticed?"

Taehyung frowned. "It's true."

"I annoy you so much you don't need the nicotine to wake up."

"If that achievement makes you happy, go ahead." He crossed his legs as he sat down next to you. "Bon appétit."

You looked in front of you, on your plate was a piece of freshly baked bread toasted in the color of the sun. The whipped cream was smooth and slightly eggy, with peach slices decorated on top creating an attempt at a flower. The smell was intoxicating and your mouth watered from it.

Taehyung's chest swelled with joy as you took the first bite and inhaled. You looked at him tenderly. That human habit of food being the perfect language to show love without touching.

"It's good," you agreed taking another bite. "Did you try it?"

Taehyung denied raising his hand to ask you to continue tasting.

"I have something else for you," he said before you took another bite. You could see and hear in the silence of the kitchen how his foot bounced with eagerness to show you the other things.

Taehyung took a paper bag from his jacket hanging on the door and put it on your lap. His hands didn't let you open the material, kneeling on the floor in front of you.

"Slow down, Kim. For God's sake." you laughed looking at him. He imitated you.

"Sorry, it's just that I've been saving this for a long time."

You couldn't stop seeing him, it was impossible how much you loved him in such a short time. You looked down at your lap as he lowered your chin with his hand.

Inside the paper were many trinkets, colorful and very varied. Buttons, an old lighter with a rose carved on it, a ring in the shape of a butterfly, a deep red dried ink, and underneath it all the pale lace of a lingerie set.

You smiled as you put everything else aside and looked at the pieces in detail.

"Isn't there a more subtle way of saying you want to fuck me?" you joked

Taehyung didn't laugh, again he was looking at you with nervous eyes.

"I want to give you a portrait."

You put the lingerie on the table and looked at him. You knew that his painting materials were becoming more and more scarce. You denied it instantly.

"Don't worry, I'll use some oils that I have saved, they are in perfect condition and I want to use them with you." he rose clutching your face in his hands, like something ethereal. How could he see you in the morning and make you feel so lovely?

"I want to paint your lips," he ran his thumb over your bottom lip, "And your eyes."

"Even when one is smaller?"

He chuckled slightly at your sweet question.

"Especially the smaller one."

His hand grabbed the last bite of toast and opened your mouth with his thumb, delicately inserting it. "I told you to eat it all." his face was serious.

His thumb began to smear all the cream that remained in the corners of your mouth, pressing your lips while your tongue tried to lick his fingers.

"That is my girl." he hummed cocking his head at you.

Your toes tensed when you heard him say that.

"Open up," he commanded and you obeyed, opening your mouth to remove the sticky cream from his finger. He swallowedwhen he saw you lick every drop.

Your beautiful face, your messy hair, and your mouth covered in peach juices and whipped cream. So sweet and erotic that it made his stomach clench with the urge to eat you.

"I would like you to paint me in the summer, though."

"Because?"

"Because that way I could return the color to my cheeks, to see myself more..." you didn't know what the word was.

Taehyung could have cared less.

"Fine." he sighed and tossed the plate to the side with a crash. Suddenly, you were in his arms, he laid you down gently on the wood of the table.

"Tae?" a squeal came from you when you felt the cold in your pussy, Taehyung ripped your panties and began to rub his digits on your clit with such delicacy.

"Shh," he responded, grabbing the chair to walk over to the table and sit down. With one hand he brought your body closer to his face and began to run his tongue through your folds.

This is what he wanted to do last night and you didn't let him.

Your legs began to shake and he looked up through narrowed eyes. Your surprised face was so funny, it almost made him want to let you cum as fast as you let him.

"Spread your legs, let me see you." there was something so obscene about the way his voice deepened. He embarrassed you. "Aren't you going to let me eat you?"

You didn't know what to say.

"What happened that pretty girl who wouldn't shut the fuck up, huh?" His wet lips kissed your entrance with each word. "Where are your smart answers and the fucking questions about how I jerk off?" With one hand he hit your clit and you whimpered. "There it is." he smiled.

"God," you moaned so loud trying to get your nightgown down, it hurt so good. Taehyung squeezed your wrists with one hand and started devouring you again, your juices flowing on his nose and his tongue and you knew how much he liked it by the way he growled and bit the inside of your thigh.

It hurt but you couldn't stop moaning, your hands turning into claws from the tension wanting to grab his tangled hair, to see his face covered with it in a transparent and shiny layer.

"Atta, girl," he inhaled, snapping back. "Look at you," he smiled at you as he licked the edges of his lips. "The color is returning to your cheeks."

"What?" You stuttered before you felt how his hand collided with your ass. You screamed biting your lip.

"Come here."

His hand carried you to help your weak legs. With his hands under your armpits, he led you to the nearest wall.

"Get naked, pet."

"It's cold."

"Still?" Taehyung asked confused and piled the fabric of your dress in his hand until he found your wet pussy again. Without saying much, he inserted two fingers, curling the tips.

"More," you whispered, you were short of breath and you felt like you were in another cosmic plane with the long fingers of the man behind you.

His other hand began stroking your tummy until it reached your neck, squeezing gently. Hearing your sweet request, he laughed.

"You're a mess and I haven't even fucked you. Are you sure?"

You nodded awkwardly, your head pressed against the wall. A third finger was unexpected and burned.

"You're so wet, it's not fair." Kim sighed. "I want to do everything for you but you won't let me with that little body of yours."

"Mm," was all you could answer, your tongue was heavy and the knot under your stomach had you seeing stars.

"Those short dresses and the laughter and the erotic books and your perfect tits." he moaned turning you around to remove your dress.

Seeing your face again, Taehyung made up his mind; he couldn't take it anymore. Whipped cream decorated your cheek and your open mouth.

"Are you still cold?" His eyes saw you straight into your soul. You denied hugging his neck, hitting your lips with his.

If you didn't kiss him you felt like you were going to implode. His furrowed brows and his broad shoulders, the way he'd talk dirty to you but he'd kiss your shoulder calming your nerves.

There it was again, that tickle in your throat of saying things at the wrong time.

Shut me up with kisses, you thought, shut me up by sealing your lips with mine.

"More." Now it was Taehyung's turn to ask, moaning as he felt how your naked body hung from his waist.

He quickly lowered his pants until he took it off completely. Then his coat.

"Down," he murmured kissing you one last time crashing your body into the wall.

With one hand you grabbed his cock and started to move your hand. A cry came from him and you both nearly fell to the ground in a crash. Taehyung's legs failing from the sudden touch.

You laughed at Taehyung's irate gesture.

"In four. Now," he barked, after kissing you softly. "I want to fuck you, I don't want games anymore, 'kay?"

You nodded drunkenly at the way he spoke to you.

You stopped smiling when he repositioned you like a doll on your knees and hands.

You arched your back as you felt the tip stretch your entrance, you closed your eyes in pure pleasure. The sting was unbelievable, perfect.

"Mmhm," Taehyung ran his finger down your back, "Let me listen to you, love."

How can he call you that without melting?

You pushed yourself into him until your ass touched his pelvis. You both moaned each other's name.

"Fuck," he mumbled, grabbing both sides of your waist to guide your movements. The sounds that filled the kitchen were indecent, your cream accumulated at the base of his cock and your moans drove him crazy.

Yes, he was like a schoolboy when it came to you, he couldn't see your cleavage without wanting to touch himself or look at your lips without wanting to bite them so badly that they bled. You were in addition to his antidote, his new favorite morbidity.

"Atta girl, squeeze me more," he hissed at you slowing his pace down. His moans turned to whimpers as you began to feel the cum dripping down your thighs. You were about to cum and he could feel it. "Let me feel those walls, baby. Cum for me."

You lifted your upper body so you could move against him and with two brushes of his fingers on your puffy clit you began to scream his name letting your face fall into your hands.

You both panted hard, abruptly, Taehyung pulled his cock out, revealing how his cum came out of you. God, he prays that this is the one that knocks you up.

Getting up, he grabbed your delicate body and took you to the sofa, lit the fireplace, and left you alone for a few minutes. When he returned he brought with him a blank canvas the length of his forearm and a couple of charcoal pencils.

The afterglow had your cheeks with the most beautiful tint. Flushed and plump lips from biting it so much. You let your hair do what it wants, just how he likes it and you smiled at him when he sat down in front of you. You squinted your eyes when you smiled and his shoulders relaxed.

"Stay still, please," he whispered while he took a pencil in his hands.

[koiiiji]

author’s note ; i know i promised a little bit different works… but… yeah.. and i hate editing in tumblr, i swear it was last tim editing in app bc draft suddenly wasn’t saved and whole part with sex scene was deleted. i tried to get it back, thankfully i use translator sometimes, but yeah… most spicy part is fucked up, but i have last working day tomorrow, tired as hell and stressed bc of how fcked up tumblr app works sometimes. maybe will edit it later. hope you still will enjoy. 🪄🪆

tw ; nsfw, f!reader, slight description of body shape, masturbation, p in v, established relationship, passionate

summary ; you gave taesoo little show after his long days and nights in forests on his mountain. + soft bonus in the end. 🥨🎗️💒🌌🧼🎐

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

the moon hung low in the night sky, casting its ethereal glow upon the world below as Taesoo returned from hunting expedition. fatigue after another successful hunt gave pleasant thoughts about imminent rest and relaxation, and pain in the muscles reverberated throughout the body, forcing him to speed up his pace. with each weary step, he longed for the familiar comfort of home, the promise of solace and sanctuary beckoning to him.

but as he approached his secluded abode on his mountain, a sense of unease gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. there was a stillness in the air, there was no light in the windows, darkness that hung heavy like a shroud, as if the very earth itself held its breath in anticipation. pushing open the door, Taesoo's heart quickened with trepidation as he called out your name, the echo of his voice ringing hollow in the empty hallway. but there was no answer, no laughter to greet him, no warmth to chase away the chill that settled in the depths of his soul. furrowing his brow, Taesoo ventured further into the dimly lit interior of his home, the flickering flames of the hearth casting long shadows across the walls. and then, in the dim light of fireplace, he saw you.

spread out upon his huge bed like a vision from a dream, you lay ensconced in furs, your slender form illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window and warm fireplace flickering. your fingers danced across your skin with a delicate grace, teasing and tantalizing in equal measure, as you lost yourself in the throes of ecstasy. for a moment, Taesoo stood frozen in place, his breath catching in his throat as he drank in the sight before him.

there was raw, primitive beauty, you bathed in the caress of moonlight and the warmth of the fireplace, cold and warm light played on your naked figure, he could see how almost every muscle tenses and relaxes, how the skin on the chest stretches, so that the ribs are slightly stick out, as the warm light cast shadows on your tummy, and the moonlight illuminated your collarbones, neck and shoulders. he saw how beautifully your chest heaved, trembling more and more with every movement of your fingers. Taesoo watched as your other hand reached to your chest, squeezing one and biting your lip,smiling, closing your eyes in pleasure and arching your back. he was mesmerized.

Taesoo felt a surge of desire coursing through his veins, a hunger so primal it threatened to consume him whole. like a hunter who had stumbled upon the most delectable prey, he couldn't tear his eyes away from you. with a hunger that bordered on desperation, Taesoo approached the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, but before he could reach out to touch you, you pushed your small feet onto his shoulder, a silent command that halted him in his tracks.

confusion flickered in his eyes as you gently pushed him to the nearest chair, your voice a soft murmur that sent shivers down his spine. “Watch,”you whispered, your words a seductive promise that left him breathless with anticipation. and so, Taesoo watched, sitting there, with his legs wide open,letting his own palm rest on the growing bulge in his pants. mesmerized, as you pleasured yourself before him, your movements fluid and graceful, each motion a symphony of desire and longing. he watched as you squirmed and writhed upon the bed, your body pure grace, sophistication and femininity, so contrary to his almost bestial habits.

with each circle of your finger, his own desire grew, a fire raging within him that threatened to consume him whole. he longed to join you, to lose himself in the intoxicating rhythm of your passion, but he remained rooted to his seat, waiting for your permission, until you will cry out for his help. and damn, how well he knew you, that a minute later you were stuttering and whining begging him – “Taesoo.. Taesoo baby… n-need you..” you plea hiccuping – “Need you right now..”

and what kind of man would he be if he made his woman repeat twice or even wait? without a word, he moved closer, his presence overwhelming in its intensity. as he reached you, he lowered himself onto the bed, his hands tracing a path from your ankles up to your thighs, sending waves of electricity through your body. the world outside ceased to exist; there was only Taesoo and the way his touch ignited a fire within you even more. his lips found your skin, pressing tender kisses along your calves, trailing up to your knees. as he continued his journey, his mouth caressed the inside of your thighs, the sensation both tantalizing and soothing. Taesoo's hands never stopped their exploration, his fingers dancing lightly over your hips as his lips moved upwards, kissing your stomach with reverence. he took his time, savoring every inch of you, worshipping your body with each touch and kiss. you felt cherished, adored in a way that transcended words.

when his lips reached the curve of your breast, he paused, his breath warm against your skin. he looked up at you, his eyes dark with emotions – “You ready?” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep within your chest. the moment you nod shyly, he let go of low grunt and pulled down his pants, letting pink, sensitive head of his dick out, and slowly rubbing it against your begging pussy.

the lump of nerves in your stomach first tightens even more, then it seems to untie when Taesoo slowly enters you, stretching and filling you completely. with a strangled groan, he puts his hand on the bottom of your tummy and presses, just a little, to feel his length inside, and how painfully slowly he moves, forcing you to tilt your head back. – “Yes, baby, just like that..” your hair is scattered on the pillows, the sheets and furs are crumpled under you, and you arch your back more strongly, pressing your chest against Taesoo's chest. he slides his hand under your waist, pulling you closer and gently impaling you on his cock. – “Taking me so well, yes, little thing?”

he couldn't take his eyes off your face - illuminated by the soft light of the moon, eyebrows are raised worryingly, gaze is clouded, and the sweetest moans flow from your mouth.

releasing your waist and stroking you higher and higher, on your sides, ribs, finally hugging your back with one hand and walking along your spine, and with the other extending his arm above your head, interlacing his fingers together, taesu leaned on you with almost full weight, pressing into the mattress and slowly, steadily crashing into your hips

he buried his nose in the crook of your neck and shoulder, lightly nibbling and sucking on the delicate skin, thus claiming his right to you.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

the soft glow of the fireplace bathed the room in a warm, flickering light. Taesoo and you lay on a fur carpet, blankets and furs scattered around you, wrapped in the cozy warmth of the moment. the crackle of the fire was a soothing backdrop to the gentle whispers shared between you.

Taesoo's hand traced lazy, affectionate patterns down your spine, his touch sending shivers of delight through your body. you lay with your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his breath. he murmured sweet nothings into your hair, his voice a comforting rumble that made you smile. – “You are my everything,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. you sighed contentedly, nuzzling closer to him, your fingers lightly trailing over his chest. – “And you are mine,” you replied softly, your voice filled with the warmth of your love.

the fire crackled and popped, casting dancing shadows across the room as you both lay there, wrapped in each other's embrace.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

[the-californicationist]

he hunts you down

Captain John Price is recruiting for the 141, and when he takes you on a field exercise to the middle of the woods, you try to show him that you have what it takes to survive.

This is Part 1 of 2. If y’all are interested in a Part 2, it’s here. Or, you can read it in full on AO3.

MDNI/18+

TW: primal play, dubcon, abuse of power

AO3 Link

The sun was setting through the verdant green leaves of the trees, beams of light sparkling through them, casting light and shadow on the forest floor as you raced through the underbrush. You were bending your feet, sprinting in the way that he had taught you, nearly silent as you leapt across rotting boughs and piles of fallen leaves. Controlling your breathing, you found a tight pace - fast enough to escape, but restrained enough to withstand it for a generous duration. The air felt sharp in your throat.

Captain Price had taken you on as the newest recruit to the 141. Many recruits had come before you, and many had failed to pass muster. So, here you were, top of your class in Westpoint, but young and unblooded, trying to keep up with the most fearsome group of hunters in the modern world. Terrorists filled the world with fear, and John Price filled them with fear in turn. He was the monster’s monster, and you were desperate for him.

When you’d first laid eyes on him, you were intimidated by his sharp confidence. He was snappy, impatient, but level-headed. He had his power under such a tight-laced control that you would have given anything to watch him unleash it on someone. A dark part of you wanted that someone to be you. When you sparred, he was ruthless. Soap was fun to wrestle, even if he let you win. Gaz was a challenge, but a fair fight. Even Ghost had let you get the upper hand once or twice, but Price had shown no mercy. After the captain was finished with your body, you’d go back to your quarters battered, bruised, and sore for days. He’d even dislocated your shoulder once in order to break your hold, and then he’d had the audacity to shift into a caring medic, helping it back into its socket, bringing you ice and meds that night, checking on you before rounds in the morning. He was enigmatic.

You had gotten your hopes up, that was the problem.

One night, you were putting in a late workout at the gym, fists digging into the heavy bag, trying to improve on your power and speed. Trying to get him out of your head, more like. Your handsome commanding officer and his huge, hairy, muscular form had been haunting you for weeks in the night while you lay in your bed alone. The smell of his cigars was enough to send shivers through you at this point. So, you came to work off some steam. It didn’t help.

You had wanted to shower after your self-flagellation session with the punching bag, but when you went to the locker room, your heart froze. The water was already running. Since no one had been in the gym with you for hours, that wasn’t possible. You were facing the door the whole time…well, most of the time. But no one moved that quietly. You would have heard them.

Thinking someone had left it on, you moved to shut it off. A voice stopped your hand right on the edge of the cold handle. Low and growling, you heard your name come from behind the wall, floating out from the shower. Haunted and in a state of shock, you stood stock still, listening for it to happen again. You took a breath and pulled open the stall door to find Price’s broad, scarred back, hunched forward in what may (or may not, damnit) have been a contortion of ecstasy. He’d spun around to catch his intruder, but you had already turned back toward the gym door, sprinting for your life out of the bathroom. You went to bed sweaty and wet for more reasons than one.

It was his idea to drag you out here. The rest of the team had remained back at base, but Price had decided to take you on a solo helicopter flight out to a remote Hebridean island, uninhabited and cut off from the public, completely alone.

You had geared up for the weather, anticipating the slight cold front, but Price had added a level of challenge to your first field trip that made you concerned. He had only allowed you to bring one set of clothes. You’d be out for four days - if he didn’t find you before then. Four days was a long time to wear the same underwear and socks. Especially now, at the middle of day three, you were noticeably pungent. You’d also finished off your canteen this morning, so as you moved through the wooded hills, you mapped the path to the closest stream. Honestly, you were proud of yourself for evading Price for this long. You wanted to make it the full four days. Maybe he’d even consider giving you a more permanent position. You kept losing every single grappling match, but you scored high on your marksmanship testing, and your survival skills were top notch.

Rushing, bubbling water came into view as you headed into a small glen. There was a gorgeous waterfall waiting for you, and you couldn’t wait to bathe. It was a huge risk, but you were itchy enough to take it. You quickly shed all of your layers and scrubbed them in the clean, cold water with loose gravel, trying your best to rub as much grime out of them as you could. Then, you laid the clothes out on the rocks to dry in the sun and slowly waded your way into the water. It was cold enough to burn, but you had to admit that even the frigid water felt nice on your skin. Quickly, you washed your face and body, keeping your braided hair out of it as much as you could, splashing your breasts and rubbing between your thighs for some relief on your most sensitive parts.

Satisfied, you returned to the shoreline. You blinked, stunned, finding the rocks bare and missing your garments. All of them. Your heart raced in your chest. Your hunting knife was stuck straight up on a nearby stump, placed there on purpose.

Price.

He’d seen you in the water. Why was that your first thought? You bolted in the opposite direction, not caring any longer to move silently. You thought you might be able to outrun him, but just as you were about to clear a fallen log, you were tackled to the ground, your breath knocked out of your chest. Instincts high, you fought for your life, kicking and clawing at your attacker. He was fully geared out, and his clothing made rough scrapes against your skin as he clutched your back to his chest, wrapping his hand around your throat and an arm around your waist.

“Fuck! No!” You shouted, unsure as to what you thought that might accomplish.

You heard a dark chuckle in return,

“Thought you got away from me, little bird? Hope that bath was worth it.”

He flipped you so that you were laying face-down on the ground, his heavy body pinning you, squeezing the air out of your lungs that you had fought to recover.

“Give up, Sparrow. You’re caught,” he growled, fighting with your writhing form.

“No! No…I was so close,” you stilled, finally giving in, disappointed in your failure, laying your forehead in the sticky leaves.

“Yes,” his voice had an eerie, sultry quality to it, and that surprised you. Your body responded, melting into him, trying to determine his intentions. He spoke into your ear softly, “You did so well. But, I knew you’d need water, and all I had to do was wait. I didn’t expect you to reward me quite as well as you did, but that was a bloody nice surprise.”

He punctuated that last sentence with a buck of his hips and then you felt it. You had thought it was his holstered gun that was digging into the crack of your asscheeks, spreading them uncomfortably wide. It was too rigid to have been any part of his anatomy, surely. But, you were wrong. The heavy, solid pipe that was rutting against your ass was Price’s impossibly fat cock.

You gasped, involuntarily.

“Mm,” he was smiling; you could hear it, “Hard as a stone, innit? All your fault, birdie. You out there in that fuckin’ stream, grabbing your tits for me in the water, running from me so I can watch this gorgeous arse jiggle. Tha’s like teasin’ a hound with a bone, sweetheart. My cock’s aching for ya.”

“Captain, we can’t…we - ”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want to you,” he snarled, shouting. The sudden increase in volume made your blood run cold, and your pussy clenched down tight, traitor that it was. He started to grope your asscheek roughly, talking to you the whole time, “You’re caught, and if I was the enemy, you’d be watching Peter look your name up in his big book right about now. So, I feel like your punishment should fit the situation.”

You couldn’t help but shiver. He was right, you were out here all by yourselves. There were no comms, and the seaplane wouldn’t dock back here for another day. If Price wanted to hurt you, he had all the time in the world, and you were in no position to fight him off.

“Yes, sir,” you muttered, listening to your own shaky whisper with shame.

You heard a buckle and a zipper, and then you felt a tell-tale warmth against your skin. He was rubbing his length across your body, hungry and dripping with precome. You breathed in through your nose, trying to hold back your shock.

“Say no, little bird. Tell me to stop. Say that you surrender, and I’ll take you back to the camp and warm you up. I’ll put you on that plane and send you back to New York with a letter of recommendation in hand. You have my word. Or…”

He paused for a long time, waiting for you to take it. You should. It was no small accomplishment to get a letter of recommendation from a man as infamous as Captain John Price. But, something in you wanted a punishment more than a reward.

“Or?” You asked, your voice sounded so small.

It was his turn to draw in a trembling breath. You felt the whiskers of his mustache brush the side of your neck as he tasted your skin there, sucking hot kisses and sending chills across your back.

“Or…” he replied, “I will fuck you right here into the goddamn dirt, and every night, when I get hungry for you, no matter where our task force goes, you’ll take my fucking cock how I want, whenever I want, no questions asked.”

You let his threat sink in. How could he expect such a heinous, feral thing? Did he want you on the task force? A thousand questions flooded through your mind, but you heard yourself saying,

“Okay.”

A warm, fleshy head prodded at the entrance of your cunt, slipping through your folds and spearing you, almost painfully, with his difficult girth. His cock was so fat that you could feel your walls expand to fit him, panicking at this new level of intrusion and flooding you to try and mitigate the situation. He let out a ragged sigh,

“Oh, fuck, that’s so good. Tight, so bloody fuckin’ tight,” he laughed quietly, a tone of disbelief on his lips, “Welcome to the team, little bird.”

[pin-k-ink]

knife’s edge // gojo satoru

tw ⇢ teacher-student relationship, implied age gap, dub-con, punishment and reward system, power play, dom/sub relationship, blowjob, fingering, begging, hair pulling, degradation, mentions of violence and injuries, spanking, facial, belt whipping, praise kink, face fucking

wc ⇢ 6.7k

a/n: i am not happy with this one at all

The inky blackness of night cloaked the abandoned factory district in deep shadow, the dim glow of the waxing moon filtering through shattered panes of grimy glass offering little illumination. Your ragged breaths echoed sharply in the cavernous silence, each rapid footfall sending plumes of dust and grit swirling into the still air in your wake.

You risked a frantic glance over your shoulder, heart hammering a staccato rhythm against your ribcage. The curse's formless shape undulated through the gloom behind you with horrific, boneless grace—an amorphous mass of writhing miasma capped with wicked curved appendages that scraped in screeching arcs against the cracked concrete hallway with each slithering surge forward. Jagged claws of solidified cursed energy aimed to ensnare, tear, and rend any flesh within reach.

A fleeting memory sliced through your mind's frenzied whirl — Gojo's voice carrying that unmistakable lilt of teasing amusement as he'd drawled something about being on your "best behavior" during this training exercise. His smug confidence had rankled you at the time, fueling your burning desire to prove yourself more than a bumbling student constantly needing rescue from their mentor.

But now, harsh reality crashed through those foolish delusions in waves of cold, jagged terror. You were hopelessly outmatched and ill-prepared for confronting this particular curse born of manifested nightmares. Its presence alone incited paralytic dread laced with a phantom ache of crushing loneliness echoing from some primal depth. Heedless of the stunted whimpers tumbling from your trembling lips, it closed in with relentless, inexorable hunger.

You redoubled your pace, lower legs shrieking with the exertion of maintaining your panicked sprint. Up ahead, the hallway fractured off into a labyrinth of shadowed corridors and forsaken antechambers. Fighting the icy lances of panic penetrating your frantic thoughts, you arbitrarily flung yourself down the second passageway on the left, restraining a scream as the curse's barbed tendrils whipped around the corner in pursuit.

How had you allowed yourself to be lured so far from the staging area where Gojo awaited your safe return? Stupid, stupid overconfidence. Surely he would berate your rashness before grudgingly coming to your aid...if you survived this ordeal long enough to earn his scorn. You swallowed back a hiccuping sob at that grim prospect, legs pumping harder in sheer desperation.

When the next turn presented itself, you instinctively banked hard to the right, hurtling through the decrepit doorway of what appeared to be some kind of dilapidated manager's office. Dim moonlight filtered through the filth-streaked windows, casting the skeletal shapes of rusted desks and chairs in stark silhouette across the debris-littered floor.

You twisted in mid-sprint, fruitlessly hurling the few feeble cursed tools you'd had on your person towards the curse as it rapidly filled the doorway. Their meager defenses ricocheted off a shimmering barrier the curse erected with mocking ease. Your breath sawed from your lungs in panicked bursts as those razor-tipped appendages sliced through the space you'd just occupied, sending shreds of plaster and splintered wood exploding in all directions.

There was nowhere left to run. In blind panic, you scrambled backwards on your hands and feet as the curse's oozing grotesquerie filled the open doorframe, blocking any hope of escape.

Suddenly, something sharp and unyielding sliced into the meat of your palm, causing you to cry out in pained surprise. You looked down to see the jagged remains of some kind of metal pole or rebar protruding from the crumbling floorboards—the very shrapnel strewn across the office that your desperate retreat had led you straight into.

The unforgiving shard of rebar punched clean through the soft center of your hand in a blossoming spiral of agony and blood. Your scream hitched in your constricted throat as scorching lances of whitehot pain lanced up your arm. Tears blurred your vision, leaving the curse's steadily encroaching form obscured and wavering in your sight.

The twisted groaning of stressed metal snapped your gaze downward just as the compromised floor buckled beneath your weight, splitting like a crumpled Jenga tower along the lines of its pre-existing fractures. The gore-slicked rebar came suddenly free from its entrapment with a meaty slurping sound, pitching you backwards as your already precarious perch vanished from beneath you.

You plummeted in a dizzying freefall, the decrepit office warping and careening away above you in smears of grey and brown and black. Instinctively you flung out your arms, mouth gaping in a soundless scream as you plunged downwards into the bottomless unknown of the abandoned factory's shadowed depths.

Time itself seemed to unravel into surreal slow-motion as your trajectory carried you into the diffuse path of moonlight slanting through a shattered window high above. Silver-edged debris tumbled alongside you—jagged splinters of wood and twisted scraps of metal glinting like macabre confetti amid the freeze-framed droplets of your blood blossoming in faint crimson blurs.

Then, with a violent percussion of displaced air, something rocketed into you from the side—a solid, immense force that knocked what little breath remained from your lungs in a strangled wheeze. Powerful arms like bands of steel locked around your torso, violently arresting your plummet as your failed to process what was happening.

Head spinning, vertigo graying the edges of your vision, you dimly became aware of the world blurring past in streaks of shadow and dim light as you swung in an upward arc, abruptly changing trajectories with dizzying velocity. The whiplash intense enough to make you cry out hoarsely as cold panic lanced through you anew.

Just as abruptly, the disorienting rush of movement slammed to a boneshaking halt, your body folding in on itself with the force of the deceleration. You found yourself crushed against a solid plane of warmth and wiry muscle, every nerve ending screaming in protest as your savior's bruising embrace constricted tighter around your ribcage. The guttural growl rumbling through the steel-banded arms holding you immobile reverberated straight into your rattled bones.

"Dammit, girl—you make trouble follow you around like a hellhound on a scent trail, don't you?"

The familiar, sardonic drawl finally pierced the roaring in your ears. Gojo's distinctive smokey timbre ignited a fresh surge of tremors— though born of relief rather than mortal terror this time. You sagged bonelessly against his chest, quaking with reaction as the abyss you'd narrowly avoided plunging into slowly reasserted itself in your reeling awareness.

Gojo simply held you pinned flush against him, stance braced with preternatural solidity despite the physical feat of force he'd just exerted. With your face pressed into the juncture of his shoulder and neck, his unique scent of sandalwood and citrus enveloped you in a cloak of reassurance. You clung to that steadying anchor desperately as you struggled to rein in your haywire senses.

He seemed content to allow you that reprieve, not bothering to immediately extricate himself as the pounding of both your thunderous heartbeats gradually subsided to a more measured cadence. At last, when you'd stopped trembling quite so violently, Gojo shifted infinitesimally—just enough to catch your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up towards his.

"Y'know, when I said to be on your best behavior, I didn't mean to go seeking out new and perilous ways to get yourself killed on my watch, bad girl."

Gojo's voice still maintained that undercurrent of sardonic cool, but you detected the faintest hints of...something else bleeding through. An edge of anxious relief perhaps, buried beneath the outward mask of nonchalant irreverence he always wore. His thumb traced the curve of your jaw with maddening tenderness at odds with his tart rebuke, sending your pulse into a frenzied gallop once more.

"Gojo-sensei, I-I'm so sorry," you stammered, scarcely daring to draw breath too deeply in his embrace for fear of surrendering to the urge to bury your face against his neck and simply exist in that space for a thousand reassuring moments. "I got overconfident and careless and put myself in danger by wandering off. You were right, as usual, and I—"

He cut off your self-flagellating apology with a gruff tsk, index finger pressing firmly against your parted lips. "Hush now. I can already see those pretty eyes filling with crocodile tears that will make me go all soft and stupid again."

The sardonic smirk he flashed you ignited a spark of bristling indignance in your chest—but it was a welcome reprieve from the icy terror currently waning through your system. Gojo's gaze roved downwards, searing gaze flickering over you in a blatant sweep from head to toe. Whatever he saw in his obscenely casual inspection made his jawline tense perceptibly.

"Looks like our little curse didn't take too kindly to you wandering off the beaten path either," he remarked, deceptively mild drawl betrayed by the subtle edge of strain hardening the words.

You followed the weighted path of his hawkish regard to where the tattered remnants of your uniform clung in bloodied tatters, entire swaths torn away to reveal expanses of gashed and rapidly-purpling flesh glistening with crimson. A vivid flush bloomed across your cheeks as you hastily sought to cover yourself, hissing as the incidental movement tugged at your lacerated skin.

Gojo clucked his tongue again, more chidingly this time. "Easy there, slugger. Let's not go scrambling around until we get those battle scars properly dressed."

Before you could protest, Gojo was moving again - shifting his grip to cradle you securely against his chest with one arm while his free hand extended outward, palm glowing with an ethereal purple luminescence.

One disorienting transition of vertigo later and the ruined factory surroundings had been replaced by a cozily appointed interior.

The incongruously homey space you now found yourself in appeared to be some kind of living quarters - though imbued with distinctly more luxury and refined appointments than the standard student dormitories would allow.

Rich hardwood floors were covered in plush area rugs of deep crimson. The walls were adorned with elegant-yet-minimal furnishings and intricately patterned tapestries in jewel tones suggesting an Eastern influence. Various artifacts - porcelain vases, statuettes, and inscribed metal wall-hangings - were interspersed with a few strategic pops of color and indirect lighting to cultivate an ambiance of cultivated tranquility.

"Comfortable?" The rumbling baritone against your ear made you start slightly as Gojo carried you towards what appeared to be a bedroom sectioned off by opaque partitioning screens.

You opened your mouth to reply, but any words withered on your tongue when he shifted his hold to deposit you with infinite care atop the bed - as though you were the most precious of fragile burdens. The sheets were a sleek dusky charcoal hue offset by the warm burnished glow of brass lamps casting flattering illumination across the space.

Gojo crouched in one fluid, boneless motion beside where you lay, all lazy power and effortless masculine grace barely restrained beneath that veneer of irreverent cool. His gaze was immediately drawn to the sluggishly bleeding gashes marring your exposed skin, sharp azure irises hooded beneath lowered lashes.

"Let's get you decent first, hmm?" He lilted in that sinfully smooth timbre, already working to divest you of the tattered remnants of clothing still clinging to your mangled form.

You flushed hotly, opening your mouth to offer token protest, but his pointed look swiftly quelled any objections before they could sound.

"Don't get shy on me now, pretty girl. I've already copped an eyeful of everything you've got thanks to that curse taking talons to your outfit." One corner of his lush mouth quirked upwards in that irresistible smirk that never failed to spark a flicker of defiance in your core. "Might as well make the most of the situation, neh?"

With deft efficiency and hands belying an almost reverent delicacy, Gojo stripped you down to your bared skin, blatantly allowing his piercing gaze to map every purpling contusion and seeping laceration in the process. You remained motionless, scarcely daring to breathe for fear of shattering this suspended reality into shards of mortified embarrassment and pining desire.

Gojo clicked his tongue in a noise of disapproval as his inspection catalogued the extent of your injuries. His thumb traced the lurid weal of a deep gash carving across your ribcage, featherlight and ghosting over the sensitive abraded skin but eliciting a shuddering exhalation from your parted lips all the same.

"Such a mess you've made of yourself, babygirl," he chided in a low, dark purr that seemed to resonate straight through the shallow surface of your flesh and delve molten paths into the viscera below. "Clumsy, clumsy girl wandering off and courting disaster like it's a favored lover. Maybe you need reminding why it's safer to stay close...and who exactly you belong to."

Gojo stood and moved across the room, giving you a momentary reprieve from the heated intensity of his presence. You watched him retrieve a wooden basin and an array of glass jars and cloth wrappings, absently tracing your fingers over the stark patterns of blooming bruises and lacerations. Though the sting of your injuries still pulsed in time with your elevated heartbeat, it felt muted somehow - a distant discomfort overshadowed by the lingering warmth of Gojo's touch and his dark, heated words still reverberating through your mind.

When he returned to your side and crouched on the plush rug once more, you couldn't help but tense slightly at his proximity. Gojo's lips curved in an inscrutable half-smile, as if privy to the chaotic whirl of your thoughts. Dipping a clean cloth into the basin of herbal-scented water he had prepared, he began gently sponging away the streaks of blood and grime from your abused skin with meditative focus.

"You know," he began conversationally, breaking the weighted quiet between you. "I had a feeling assigning you to run solo for this particular exercise was inviting disaster." His gaze remained fixed on his ministrations, calloused fingertips brushing featherlight over the shredded gashes scoring your abdomen as he cleaned each one with almost ritualistic care.

"You've always had a penchant for acting first and regretting the consequences later." Gojo's tone was a strange blend of wry affection and pointed reproof. "That wild spirit and impulsive bravery are what make you such a marvel to train...but they're also what consistently lands you in hot water requiring my intervention."

You wanted to protest, to insist that this time you had been cautious and level-headed right up until the curse overwhelmed you so unexpectedly. But the words shriveled up unspoken on your tongue as memories of your rash overconfidence resurfaced with a flush of shame. Gojo was right, as infuriatingly often seemed to be the case when he turned that penetrating stare and spark of dark wisdom upon you.

"I cannot even begin to fathom what could possess an otherwise reasonably bright girl to forsake all her training at the first sign of danger," he continued, words hardening into a disapproving rasp. You flinched inwardly, knowing the scolding was deserved but still bristling at being spoken down to like a petulant child.

Gojo's touch stilled abruptly, his thumb and forefinger capturing your chin in an uncompromisingly firm grasp that forced your gazes to lock. The vivid azure of his eyes bored into you with searing intensity from beneath his silvery lashes, commanding your rapt focus.

"Do you have any idea how close I came to losing you tonight?" His words emerged in a gravelly undertone that seemed to reverberate somewhere deeper than mere sound.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he spoke over your stillborn attempt with quiet yet immutable authority. "Too close. Far too close for comfort, little one."

Gojo's thumb traced the plush arc of your lower lip with deliberate reverence, the blistering heat of his touch raising delicious sparks of sensation despite its apparent innocuity. "I don't take kindly to situations where I am mere inches from watching light fade from those gorgeous eyes of yours. Do you understand me?"

Any residual defiance flickered and died beneath the scorching promise of intent blazing behind the shrouded azure regard holding you hostage. All you could manage was a tremulous inhale and the barest fraction of a nod in acknowledgment.

Something indecipherable flashed across Gojo's expression - both a subtle easing of the taut line of his jaw and a perceptible deepening of the shadows clouding his eyes. His hand slid from your chin to cup the back of your neck, fingertips lightly caressing the sensitive skin as he pulled you forward until the briefest whisper of distance remained between your brow and his.

"Let this be a lesson to you then," he murmured in a voice rendered incalculably darker by its lowered register. "Stay close to me from now on where you belong, understood? No more foolish detours or reckless stunts serving only to test my stamina in constantly retrieving you from harm."

You found yourself mesmerized, lashes fluttering in a hapless series of blinks as his breath fanned warmly over your parted lips. There was simply no other response than a breathily murmured, "Yes, Gojo-sensei. I understand."

The barest ghost of a smile - one of grim satisfaction rather than mirth - curved the edges of his sinful mouth. "Good girl."

The heavy-lidded intensity of Gojo's gaze seemed to scorch straight through to your very core as the silence stretched taut between you. His thumb traced idle patterns along the racing flutter of your pulse just beneath your jawline, touch tantalizingly light yet possessive all the same. You shivered at the implication behind such a disarmingly tender caress coming from your mentor.

"You test me at every turn, don't you, my pretty thing?" The words emerged in a low, molten rumble tinged with thinly veiled exasperation and something infinitely darker—a banked smolder of bone-deep desire he made little effort to conceal. "Never quite able to simply mind your place and stay obediently out of harm's way, constantly seeking new ways to throw yourself into the line of danger until I'm forced to intervene..."

His fingers trailed lazily down the sloped column of your throat, following the racing thrum of your pulse until his palm settled in a burned brand over the thundering cadence of your heart. You couldn't help the tremulous hitch of your breath as his calloused thumb grazed the swell of your breast, the barest suggestion of weight behind the touch.

Gojo's eyes glittered mercurial beneath the fan of his silvery lashes as he watched your response with rapt attentiveness, gauging your reaction to his calculated escalation. You were pinned motionless beneath the heated intensity of his undivided focus - the blazing epicenter of a storm waiting to break.

When he spoke again, his graveled baritone had lowered a ruinous register, each dark rumble seeming to sear across your feverish skin like a scorching caress unto itself.

"I'm sorely tempted to finally take you firmly in hand once and for all, babygirl. To show you exactly what lies in store each time you defy me so recklessly and necessitate my...intervention." He curled his fingers ever so slightly, delicious suggestion laced through the subtle rasp of hardened fingertips grazing the taut bud beneath the thin fabric covering you.

Your spine arched in an involuntary bow of pleasure-edged shockwaves, a broken whimper falling from your lips before you could bite it back. Gojo watched the display of responsiveness with naked hunger flickering across his austere features.

"Yes...that's what you crave, isn't it?" He mused in that same sinful, smoke-ruined tone that seemed to curl molten tendrils of liquid heat low in your belly. "My undivided attention and reprimand for each infraction, each reckless display where you've failed to heed my instruction..."

Gradually, with agonizing deliberation, Gojo shifted to loom over you with coiled dominance thrumming through every steel-banded muscle. His free hand traced a scorching path down your torso, insistent fingertips hooking beneath the thin fabric at your hip and exerting gentle but implacable pressure.

"But such willful disobedience cannot go entirely unpunished, can it?" He purred, pupils dilating as his gaze raked over your form with incandescent hunger. "Not if you're to finally learn some modicum of discipline and self-control..."

With deft surety, Gojo relieved you of the final scant covering as his sinful lips curved in a lush, dangerous smile. A fraught moment of charged suspension stretched between you as his reverent gaze roamed freely over the newly bared flesh. Then, with infinite tenderness at odds with his thunderous promise, he cradled you against the scorching plane of his chest and lowered you back to the plush bedding in one fluid motion.

"Perhaps a few lashes from my belt are in order for the way you've acted out, my willful little girl," Gojo rumbled as he braced himself above you, gaze devouring the way your thighs reflexively parted for his settling weight. "And you will count each one aloud and thank me for it, won't you?"

Your lips parted in a soft gasp at the sheer filthiness of his implication. Your pulse thundered so loudly you were certain he could hear the erratic drumming. Yet, with a heady thrill of realization, you discovered that you didn't want to resist - didn't have the strength of will left to resist him in this.

Gojo's hand slipped beneath the sleek fall of your hair, fingers curling around the back of your neck in a deceptively light but immovable grasp. The gesture was an unspoken command, an assertion of control that demanded your total surrender.

"Say it, kitten." The words emerged with the softness of a blade honed razor-sharp. "Tell me how badly you need to be taught some much-needed obedience...or else we'll simply have to continue these exercises until the lesson sticks."

Your breath shuddered from your lungs, eyes fluttering closed as a delicious shudder rippled through your entire body. It took all your remaining shreds of willpower not to arch into the heated cradle of his hips already settling against the apex of your thighs.

"Please, Gojo-sensei," you finally managed, voice quavering with need. "Teach me a lesson. Punish me until I've learned my place..."

A soft exhalation escaped Gojo, half-swallowed by the faint rustle of the bedsheets. His grip on your nape tightened fractionally as his other hand slid down the slope of your ribcage and across the dip of your waist.

You were powerless to resist the slow roll of his hips - the delicious pressure grinding against your exposed core in a way that made your lashes flutter with dizzying pleasure.

"My good girl," Gojo praised with a wicked glint in his azure gaze. "Now let's see how long you can keep up the obedient act before you're begging me to stop, hmm?"

With a sly, predatory grin, Gojo rolled off of you to stand, leaving your body buzzing with anticipation and the phantom heat of his weight pinning you. You lay there, breathless and quivering, as his fingers flicked open the clasp of his belt with a metallic snap.

"You remember the rules, don't you, kitten?" Gojo rumbled, leisurely tugging the belt from its loops with a sinuous slide of leather and metal. "No counting or pleading until the very end, or else I'll start over."

He stepped towards the edge of the bed, looming over you in a manner both protective and menacing. Your pulse spiked into a rapid tattoo as the coiled length of leather whispered through his palm in an anticipatory slide.

"Spread your legs and arch that ass up for me like a good girl," he instructed. "You've earned a good punishment for nearly getting yourself killed, haven't you?"

The words sparked a jolt of hot shame deep within you, but that only fanned the flames of your desire. Your body reacted before you could think to deny his command, thighs parting and hips canting upward until the vulnerable curve of your rear was bared and presented to him.

"That's it, my perfect little toy," Gojo crooned, the soft sibilance of his words underscored by the telltale shift of leather and metal in his grip. "You've always been such a good listener, haven't you?"

A tremor rippled through your muscles, the instinctive flinch of anticipation, and a ragged whimper tore from your throat when the first blow landed with a deafening crack. You bit down on the knuckle of your thumb to silence the cry, a futile bid to restrain the sound.

"No no no, pretty girl," Gojo chided, his low baritone rife with dark amusement. "Those sounds belong to me. Let them out."

You shook your head, eyes squeezed shut in a futile attempt to deny him, even though you knew it was impossible. His free hand settled in a proprietary weight between your shoulder blades, pressing your upper torso flush against the mattress.

"Don't be stubborn now, kitten," Gojo chastised, voice a husky purr as the leather of his belt slid across the abused skin of your ass. "You know the rules...and I'm going to make you scream those numbers for me."

The leather snapped again, a blistering stripe of searing agony lancing across your exposed flesh. The cry ripped from your throat sounded foreign and primal, and you were suddenly grateful for the muffling effect of the thick bedding.

"Count." Gojo's tone brooked no argument.

"Two." You managed the word past gritted teeth, hands fisting the sheets with white-knuckled force.

"Good girl," Gojo purred, the sound rich and honeyed as the cool leather whispered over your abused skin. "Let's try for three, hmm?"

A third searing swat landed, and then a fourth. Each one wrung another pained cry from your lips and brought your hips straining against the restraining hold of his palm.

"Five," you gasped, barely registering the tear that slipped down your cheek. "Thank you, Gojo-sensei."

The next lash was gentler than the ones before it, but no less effective in eliciting a breathless gasp and a shudder of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

"S-six," you stammered, barely able to string the syllables together.

"You're doing so well, baby," Gojo murmured, his words a soothing rumble that belied the merciless sting of leather as he brought the belt down across your flesh once more.

You lost count of the swats, each one a searing brand and yet an exquisite pleasure in its own right. With every number that fell from your lips in a broken sob, your thighs slickened further with a shameful gush of wetness. You didn't even realize you were crying until you felt the press of his palm between your shoulder blades, grounding and comforting and unbearably hot.

"Shh, sweet girl, it's almost over," he murmured, his voice a velvet purr that seemed to seep beneath your skin and burrow into the core of you. "Just a few more. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes," you whimpered, tears slipping free despite your efforts to stop them. "I can do it, Gojo-sensei."

His chuckle was a dark rumble. "My good, obedient little girl. Always eager to please, aren't you?"

His hand moved from between your shoulder blades to stroke gently along your flank, fingers tracing idle patterns across the bruises marring your flesh. A sharp contrast to the stinging burn still radiating through your abused flesh.

"Are you ready for the last one?" He asked, the question almost playful.

"Yes." You breathed the word, the single syllable a soft exhale.

"That's my girl," Gojo murmured, his approval warming the pit of your stomach. "Let's see if we can make this one really count, shall we?"

The leather snapped against your ass in a devastating strike, eliciting a cry that was half pleasure, half pain. Your thighs trembled as your back arched, body instinctively seeking more contact with the unyielding surface of his palm.

"Seven." The word came out sounding more like a moan.

Gojo's hand smoothed over the abused flesh of your ass, his touch maddeningly gentle and yet still stoking the flames of desire within you. You couldn't stop the whimper that escaped your lips as his fingers teased the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, the feather-light touch eliciting sparks of heat along your spine.

"There, there," he murmured, the words a dark rasp that sent shivers through you. "I think that's enough punishment for now, don't you agree?"

"Yes, Gojo-sensei," you breathed, your voice sounding foreign to your ears.

"Good girl." His fingers ghosted over your slickened folds, teasingly light and yet eliciting a gasp of pleasure.

"But if you want to earn the privilege of a reward, you're going to have to earn it first," he continued, his words a low growl that reverberated straight through you.

Your eyes fluttered shut as his thumb traced slow circles around your clit, the sensation sending tendrils of molten heat coiling through you. You couldn't help the whimper that escaped you, or the way your hips bucked against his touch, seeking more friction.

"I'm not hearing a yes, kitten," he chided, the words a dark purr.

"Yes, Gojo-sensei," you managed, the words coming out in a breathy whisper.

His fingers teased your entrance, dipping just barely into the slickness gathering there. A low groan escaped him, the sound reverberating through your body.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me, aren't you?" He growled, his voice a low rasp. "All spread out and aching for me to fill you up, aren't you, babygirl?"

"Yes, Gojo-sensei." You repeated the phrase like a mantra, unable to form any other coherent thoughts as his fingers curled inside you.

"Look at you, taking my fingers like such a good little slut," he murmured, the words punctuated by the wet sounds of him pumping his digits in and out of you.

You couldn't help the way your hips rocked against his touch, the sensation eliciting sparks of pleasure along your spine. Your back arched, thighs trembling as you sought more friction.

"That's it, take it all," he urged, his voice a low rumble. "Feel how tight you're gripping me, baby. So wet and desperate for me, aren't you?"

"Please," you whined, the word emerging as a broken plea. "I need more, Gojo-sensei. Please."

"Such a needy little slut," he chuckled, the sound sending shivers through you.

He removed his fingers, eliciting a whimper of protest from you, before his palm came down hard on the already abused flesh of your ass, the resounding slap echoing through the room.

"Up," he commanded, the word a rough bark.

You scrambled to obey, limbs shaky as you pushed yourself upright. Your thighs were slick with your own arousal, a sight that only intensified the burn of humiliation. You couldn't help the whimper that escaped your throat, a combination of humiliation and desire.

Gojo stood in front of you, his pants unbuttoned and his cock fully erect. The sight was enough to make your mouth water, but he seemed determined to draw this out, his expression an inscrutable mask as he appraised you.

"On your knees," he commanded, the words a low growl.

You sank to your knees before him, the movement sending a jolt of pain through your ass as it came into contact with the plush rug. His cock was mere inches from your face, the tip glistening with precum. Your breath caught in your throat, your mouth watering as you took in the sight.

"Suck it," he commanded, the words a low rumble.

Your hands trembled as you reached for him, fingers curling around the base of his cock. He let out a low groan as you stroked him, the sound sending shivers through you. He was rock hard, and you couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips as you felt the weight of him in your palm.

"Good girl," he murmured, the words a low rumble.

You opened your mouth, tongue darting out to lick the tip of his cock. He tasted musky and salty, and you couldn't help the way your body responded, a rush of heat pooling between your thighs. You took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock. His hips bucked forward, and you nearly choked, but managed to steady yourself.

"Fuck," he groaned, his voice a low rasp. "That's it, baby. Just like that."

Your tongue traced the underside of his shaft, reveling in the feel of him filling your mouth. Your jaw ached, but you didn't care, lost in the sensation of him. His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as he fucked your mouth, his cock hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. You swallowed him down, moaning around his length.

"Shit," he cursed, his voice a guttural growl. "You're so fucking good at this, aren't you, slut?"

The words sent a thrill of pleasure through you, and you couldn't help but whimper in agreement. You wanted him to keep talking, wanted to hear him praise you, wanted to hear him degrade you. His cock pulsed in your mouth, and you knew he was close.

"Gonna come," he growled, the words a harsh rasp.

He pulled out, his cock springing free from your mouth with a wet pop. Your eyes widened as he pumped himself in his fist, the sight of his swollen, leaking cock almost enough to make you come undone.

"Beg for it," he commanded with a low snarl.

"Please," you pleaded, your voice a desperate whimper. "Please, Gojo-sensei. Please come on my face."

"Fuck," he swore, the word a guttural growl.

You closed your eyes as he came, warm spurts of cum landing on your cheeks and lips. You licked your lips, the taste of him bitter and salty. You couldn't help but whimper as his seed trickled down your face, his musky scent invading your nostrils.

"Clean it up," he ordered, the words a low growl.

You complied, using your fingers to scoop the mess from your cheeks and licking it from your fingertips. The action only seemed to arouse him further, and his cock twitched in response. You couldn't help the moan that escaped you, the sight of his renewed erection sending a rush of heat through you.

"On the bed," he commanded, his voice a rough rasp.

You scrambled to comply, the ache of your bruised and battered body momentarily forgotten in the anticipation of what was to come. Your legs trembled as you climbed onto the bed, spreading them wide for him. Your pussy throbbed, the feeling only intensifying as you watched him step out of his pants and stalk towards you with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"So needy," he purred, the words a low rumble.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he knelt between your legs, his gaze raking over your exposed body. You felt like an offering, a sacrifice laid out for him to devour. His cock was hard and swollen, and you couldn't help but writhe beneath him, desperate for him to fill you.

"Patience, kitten," he murmured, the words a dark chuckle.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into the tender flesh as he dragged you closer. Your skin tingled at the sensation, the anticipation nearly overwhelming. He lined his cock up with your entrance, the tip pressing against your slickened folds.

"Please," you begged, the word a breathless whisper.

He leaned over you, his lips a hairsbreadth from yours. You could feel his breath against your skin, the heat of him making your pulse race. You ached for him, the empty void within you seeming to expand until it threatened to swallow you whole.

"What do you want, kitten?" He murmured, his voice a low rumble.

"Fuck me, Gojo-sensei," you whimpered, the words emerging as a strangled moan.

He pushed into you, his cock filling you up in one swift thrust. You gasped, the sensation nearly enough to send you over the edge. His cock stretched you open, the fullness sending sparks of pleasure through you. You arched into him, your hips grinding against his as he began to move inside you.

"So fucking tight," he growled, the words a low rumble.

You writhed beneath him, lost in the feeling of his cock pounding into you. His hips rolled against yours, the friction sending bolts of electricity through you. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You moaned against his mouth, his tongue exploring yours.

"Come for me," he commanded, the words a ragged order.

You cried out, the pleasure ripping through you as you came undone beneath him. Your pussy clenched around his cock, milking him for all he was worth. He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he slammed into you. The sound of skin against skin was a symphony, the feel of him moving within you almost too much to bear.

"Fuck, kitten," he growled, his voice a husky rasp.

His hips jerked as he spilled inside you, his release sending you spiraling into another wave of pleasure. You clung to him, the orgasm ripping through you with an intensity you'd never experienced before. Your entire body shuddered, your muscles clenching around his cock as you milked every last drop of his cum.

"Fuck," he groaned, his cock slipping out of you with a wet squelch.

You whimpered at the loss, the feeling of him leaving you making you want more. You could feel his seed leaking out of you, trickling down the insides of your thighs before you felt the telltale trickle of wetness. The realization that he'd made you squirt was nearly enough to send you spiraling into another orgasm.

"You're a mess, kitten," he purred, the words a dark chuckle.

His fingers traced the rivulets of wetness on the insides of your thighs, the sensation sending shivers through you. The bedsheets were soaked beneath you, your juices and his cum mingling in a puddle of filth. The sight only served to arouse him further, and his cock twitched, already half-hard again.

"So messy," he murmured, the words a husky rasp.

He reached up, tracing a finger through the mess of his cum and your juices on your cheeks. You whimpered as he brought the digit to your lips, the taste of him making you crave more. He pressed his thumb into your mouth, the weight of it a welcome sensation. You sucked on it, savoring the flavor of him.

"Fuck, that's hot," he growled, his cock already fully erect again. But he knew your body couldn't take it, not after everything he'd put you through.

He rolled off of you, and you immediately missed the heat of his weight on top of you. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. You sighed, the feel of his skin against yours sending shivers through you. His cock pressed against your ass, and you couldn't help but grind back against him, eager for more.

"Greedy little slut," he murmured, the words a rough chuckle. "Stay still. I’m trying to take care of you."

He pulled the blankets over the two of you, cocooning you in the warmth of his body. Your muscles ached, and the bruises and welts on your skin throbbed, but you didn't care. The exhaustion and pain were a distant afterthought, overshadowed by the euphoric bliss that came from being sated by the man who had trained and taught and tormented you.

"You did so well, my sweet, filthy girl," he purred, the words a soft murmur against your hair. "So obedient, even when I had to punish you for nearly getting yourself killed."

Gojo cupped your face in his hands, eyes twinkling with both relief and mischief. "You really had me worried there, yknow," he chided gently.

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, kissing you with a jovial intensity. His kisses trailed along your jaw, up to your ear where he murmured, "Don't think you can get away with stunts like that." His teeth grazed your earlobe playfully.

Laughing, you tried to squirm away, but he captured you in his arms. "No escaping your punishment," Gojo teased, raining kisses along your neck and collarbone. His fingers danced along your sides, finding all the spots that made you squirm with giggles.

Finally, he relented, pinning you beneath him with a roguish grin. "There, I'd say that covers it for scaring me half to death." His expression softened as he brushed a few stray hairs from your flushed face. "Just don't go risking that beautiful smile again, okay?"

[idle-daydreams]

Demon King

Tw: Yandere, kidnapping, mentions of murder, blood and violence, dub-con, non-con, mild(?) smut

A fire roared in a corner of the cavern, casting dancing shadows upon its stone walls. The air was scented with the metallic tang of blood, wafting from the carcass of the boar lying out outside the entrance. You cowered in the corner, trembling like a leaf before a storm.

As he gazed down at you, Chuuya felt a primal hunger rise within him.

“There, there,” he purred, reaching out to stroke your hair. “Everything’s gonna be all right.”

You flinched from his touch. Chuuya smiled. How cute.

“Is it the blood?” He looked at his bloodstained fingers, ending in black, claw-like nails. “Sorry about that. I didn’t get a chance to wash off.”

Your eyes flickered towards him, glinting through the dark curtain of your hair. Fear radiated off of you, the unmitigated terror of a prey caught in the jaws of a predator.

  As you squirmed, trying to shrink further into yourself, Chuuya reached out to grasp your neck. 

“Hey,” he said. “Hey, look at me.”

The look in your doe-like eyes nearly made him melt – anxiety, apprehension, artless innocence, framed in orbs red-rimmed from countless tears. Your pulse pattered erratically under his fingers, hands fluttering around his wrist in a bewildered effort to get him to let you go. It was adorable, like a tiny kitten trying to wrestle itself free.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he said. “So long as I’m here, no one’s gonna hurt you. And so as long as you stay by my side, you’ll be safe, okay, [Y/N]?” He wanted to crow at the way your eyes widened. “Oh yes, I do know your name. I know all about you – where you live, what you do, how your pathetic family decided to sell you off for their own sakes.”

Chuuya suddenly loosened his grip. As you sank to the floor with a gasp, he leaned back on his arms, pleased with the fear and confusion fighting over your expression. Your lips – so soft, so kissable – turned into a small pout as you tried to make sense of his words.

“Please,” you finally managed, voice shaking. “I don’t know who you are, but please let me go. I promise I – I’ll give you whatever you want, all the money that I have—”

“I don’t need money,” he said. “I have more gold than anyone could ever give me. But I’m a little insulted that you don’t know me, [Y/N]. I would have thought you would have at least felt my presence and bothered to look me up.”

“N-no, I—I don’t know—” Your eyes darted nervously to the sides, towards the sake gourd sitting beside him. He picked it up and proffered it to you.

“Want some?” he asked. “It’s good, better than the bilge you humans normally drink. Don’t waste it by trying to attack me with it though – its not going to work.”

“Who are you?” you said desperately.

Chuuya cocked his head to the side. “My name is Chuuya, but you probably know me by my other name: Shuten-doji.”

You gasped. Chuuya’s smile widened, blood racing at the terror in your eyes.

“Oh good, so you do you know me,” he said.

“You – no,” you said, shaking your head. “Please – it’s not funny. You can’t be—”

“The Demon King? Oh, but I am.” He held his arms out wide. “Don’t I look like it? I’m better than any guy you’ve seen, right?”

You opened and closed your mouth, torn between dread, curiosity and awe. It excited him to just how much of an effect his title had on you, how much of an effect he had on you.

“You thought I was just some thug, didn’t you?” he said, leaning in so close that his nose brushed yours. “I do know my reputation amongst you humans, or rather that of my predecessor. A monster, a demon, a devourer of human flesh. A violent drunkard, a walking nightmare. Do I scare you, [Y/N]?”

Your face was blank now, moved beyond terror to numb incomprehension. Tremors wracked your body, chest heaving as your breath came out in little pants. You were so small, so weak, so fragile. A gentle little fawn, all for him to protect.

It was deliriously exhilarating.

Chuuya reached for you once again, grabbing you by the back of your hair. You whimpered, and desire ran through him once again.

“But I saw what your parents wanted to do,” he said, pulling you onto his lap. “You don’t think that was inhuman? Are you really okay with being sold off to that ancient tub of lard?”

“I-I wasn’t being sold,” you stammered, trying to squirm out of his grip. “My parents arranged a marriage—”

“Oh, please. You were sold. For less than what you’re worth, too.” Slowly, he forced the top of your kimono open, revealing the rounded mounds of your breasts.

“Please,” you began, flushing scarlet. “Please, I—”

“Be quiet,” he said, and began nuzzling your neck. You began to sob again, and the mewling sounds sent a new wave of ecstasy through him. He dipped his head lower, nipping and licking lazily at your throat and down your shoulder. Your skin was warm, as soft as the petals of a summer bloom; your scent was intoxicating, the taste of your skin heavenly.

“I’ve been watching you,” he said, moving his hands down your shivering frame. “Watching you work yourself to the bone for those ungrateful brats you call a family. I’ve seen you take the yelling and the abuse, watched you hide your beauty and your grace just to fit in with those lecherous bastards you call your village.” He ran his fingers up your thighs towards your inner core. A moan slipped from your mouth, making him laugh.

“You like that, don’t you?” he said, tracing idle patterns along the inside of your thigh. “Oh, I’ve been watching you, my love. Watching you waste away, like a flower blooming in some putrid swamp. You deserve much more, so much more than what any of those ingrates can ever give you.” His fingers found you clit, and he deftly flickered at the rosy bud. You gasped again, clutching his arm, and buried your face in his chest.

“Please stop,” you said. “I – I’m going to be married in a month. My parents need me. My parents need me to—”

“To be a virgin? So that the old slob they’re selling you off to can get his money’s worth?” Chuuya smirked. “Don’t worry about it. I already ended his pathetic life, for daring to even think of taking what’s mine.”

You started, a new fear dawning in your eyes. “My parents,” you said. “What did you do to—”

“Relax, I didn’t do anything to them. I wanted to, but I knew you wouldn’t like it.” He continued to gently rub your clit, sending waves of pleasure pooling into your belly. “Not that I had to do anything to them: they were perfectly willing to cast you away for the right incentive.”

“W—” You let out a shuddering moan as the haze of bliss deepened— “what do you mean?”

“In exchange for you, of course,” Chuuya said idly. “I sent them some jewels in exchange for delivering you to the base of my mountain. They did give birth to you, so I suppose they must be rewarded for that. And I knew you wouldn’t rest until they were taken care of.” He smiled at you, drinking in the glazed look in your eyes, the flush of your skin, the heaving of your chest.

“You’re happy now, aren’t you?” he said softly. “I’ll make you so much happier, [Y/N], I promise. I’ll keep you happy, I’ll treat you how you deserve.”

“N-no.” To his amusement, you still tried to push him away. “No, you’re a demon. You eat people, you eat human flesh, you—”

“That was the guy before me,” Chuuya said dismissively. “I killed him a few decades ago before I took on his title. Cannibalism isn’t really my thing. Alcohol is so much better… and the taste of you, of course.”

“But why do you even want me? I—” You broke off as white-hot pleasure ran through you. You cried out, arching your back, as the world went white for one moment. As the sparks faded, Chuuya wrapped his free arm around you, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Why do I want you?” he repeated softly. “I want you to be my mate, [Y/N]. You are going to be my mate, the mate of the strongest demon in Japan. You’re going to be the wife of Shuten-doji.”

[rosepicker]

ALEXIS NESS ONE-SHOT

Theme/Genre: Horror

MDNI!!!

Tw: smut, breeding kink, slapping, pet names, pregnancy, dubcon, ghost

Ever since you moved into your new apartment, chosen primarily for its convenient proximity to your college, unsettling events have begun to unfold within the confines of your once-promising abode.

Each venture into the bathroom is accompanied by a creeping sense of dread, as though unseen eyes track your every move from behind the flimsy veil of the shower curtains. The air grows heavy with anticipation, and a shiver runs down your spine as you catch fleeting glimpses of a shadowy presence darting just out of sight.

During showers, the feeling intensifies. A dark silhouette seems to materialize behind the curtain, its form shifting and contorting in the steam-filled enclosure. Your heart races as you reach for the curtain, half-expecting to find a spectral intruder waiting on the other side. Yet, with each pull, there is only emptiness—a chilling void that echoes your growing sense of unease.

Initially, the idea of abandoning your new home seemed like the only logical course of action. However, the prospect of finding another affordable apartment within such close proximity to campus proved to be a daunting task. Reluctantly, you resigned yourself to enduring the unnerving occurrences, hoping against hope that they would eventually cease on their own accord.

But fate had other plans.

One fateful night, as the witching hour approached and the world outside fell into a hushed slumber, you found yourself nestled beneath the covers, seeking refuge from the oppressive heat that permeated the air. Clad in nothing more than an oversized sleeveless shirt, you tossed and turned, unable to find respite from the stifling humidity.

As sleep began to claim you, a strange sensation washed over you—a feeling of being watched, of being studied with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. Groggily, you opened your eyes, only to be met with a sight that froze the blood in your veins.

Standing at the foot of your bed was a figure cloaked in darkness, its features obscured by the shadows that danced across the room. Its presence loomed over you, a silent specter that seemed to draw the very warmth from the air. And as you gazed into its piercing magenta eyes, you knew with a sinking certainty that your troubles were far from over.

As you attempted to scream, terror coursing through every fiber of your being, a chilling hand clamped over your mouth, stifling any sound that dared to escape. The room plunged into an eerie silence, broken only by the ragged sound of your breath and the ominous presence looming over you in the darkness.

"Don't even think about screaming, little girl," the voice echoed, its tones warped and distorted, sending shivers down your spine. It was a voice unlike any you had ever heard—inhuman, unnatural, and filled with a malevolence that chilled you to the core.

As your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you could make out the figure of a young man, his form translucent and ghostly, blending seamlessly with the shadows that enveloped the room. Despite his human-like appearance, there was an otherworldly quality to him, something that set your heart racing with primal fear.

With a swift and deliberate motion, he pressed you down onto the soft mattress, his weight pinning you in place as though you were nothing more than a helpless insect beneath his grasp. His hands, cold and clammy against your skin, held you captive, one restraining your wrists above your head while the other traced a torturous path down the curve of your waist.

You flinched as his nails grazed your flesh, leaving angry red marks in their wake, a painful reminder of your vulnerability in the face of this spectral intruder. For a moment, his touch lingered, his fingers inching ever closer to the hem of your shirt, a silent threat hanging in the air like a dark omen.

With a cruel smile twisting his features into a grotesque parody of humanity, he paused, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. In that moment, you realized that you were at the mercy of something far more sinister than anything you had ever imagined, and the true horror of your situation began to dawn upon you.

When the ghost-like young man was gazing at you, he felt a strong urge to remove your sleeveless shirt. Effortlessly, he ripped it apart. "Now aren't you a pretty little thing?" he whispered seductively as his gaze lingered on your body from the moment you entered this apartment. It drove him crazy not being able to touch your petite frame sooner.

His free hand descended slowly towards your damp panties and he caressed them with his middle and ring finger. You couldn't help but moan softly as his other hand muffled any louder sound escaping from your lips while he admired your vulnerable state, deciding to make full use of it.

His grin widened as he savored the soft moans emanating from you, which only increased his desire to touch you intimately. "Looks like you're enjoying this," he purred teasingly before inserting two fingers into your tight and untouched pussy. He pulled out his hand, staring at the mixture of moisture and blood on his fingers; a testament to your virginity.

As he saw you responding to his touch so passionately, he decided to release your restrained wrists and raise one of your legs up, offering him a clearer view of your drenched slit. "I wasn't expecting such eagerness from you," he mused huskily. "Usually, people either struggle or succumb in pain after being subjected to this treatment." He chuckled ominously while you were so lost in pleasure that you barely heard a word he said.

After you climaxed and coated his fingers in your juices up to his knuckles, he relished sucking it off slowly while you panted heavily from your first orgasm. Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced between your thighs as something sizable pushed its way inside your virgin pussy. The ghost with gradually shifting brown-to-magenta hair grinned wickedly at you as he pounded into you forcefully, making you sob from a mix of excruciating pleasure and pain.

His girthy cock overwhelmed you, causing you to arch your back and squeeze around his immense thickness eliciting a gruff moan from him. "Stay still, whore," he warned as he smacked your ass playfully before licking his lips at the sight of your jiggling booty; it further fueled his desire. Conquered by the intense sensations emanating from deep within, he pushed past your cervix with an unrelenting determination.

Eventually, he reached his peak, flooding your womb with a copious amount of hot cum that saturated the walls of your pink passage. His sperm seeped through your cervix and caressed your uterus from inside. " oops, looks like I just made you pregnant," he taunted teasingly as you slowly lost consciousness.

As you drift off to sleep, the ghost vanished into thin air, leaving you in a blissful afterglow of passion and fulfillment.

Hours later, you wake up feeling heavy down under and groggy-headed; your instincts immediately tell you what had occurred last night. With trembling hands, you touch your bloated stomach softly; confirming his mockery – indeed, pregnancy knocks on your doorstep now.

[heavenlytouches]

Hi

The Walking Dead x Rick's Sister Reader please?

Y/N was in a special unit but she was bitten so they tried an experimental treatment on her, the virus was stopped but she had bloodshot eyes, black veins all over her body and increased aggression and less ability to talk more growls but the infected don't notice her when she's around. She runs away from her brother, but he convinces her to come with him.

Hello love!! Thank you so much for this great request! I really love your idea, it's great. I hope you'll like this one ^^ El <3

Rick Grimes- find a way

•𓇼°🐚·☾.

FEM reader

<3 (SFW)

TW- none

BROTHER! Rick Grimes

Post-infected reader

Rick Grimes

The moon hung low in the night sky, its pale light filtering through the twisted branches of the barren trees. You could hear the faint rustling of leaves, each sound amplified in the heavy silence of the world that surrounded you.

You had once been part of a special unit, proud and trained, but the bite had changed everything. It was a nightmare—once human, now straddling the line between survival and something monstrous.

The experimental treatment had saved your life, but it had left you more beast than person. Bloodshot eyes, black veins like gnarled roots spiraling across your pale skin, and an unsettling growl that replaced words.

Tonight, you were running away from your brother Rick, who had cared for you with an intensity that made your heart ache. You could feel him close behind as you darted through the remnants of what used to be civilization, but you didn’t want to see him. You didn’t want to hurt him, and you couldn’t bear to have him look at you with those eyes full of worry and love.

With each step you took, anger and fear coiled tighter in your chest. You glanced back briefly, catching a glimpse of his familiar figure shadowed by the moonlight- a pillar of strength, always brave, always careful.

“Stop!”

He called, voice thick with desperation, breaking the stillness of the night.

But you didn’t stop. You kept running, the weight of his concern trailing behind you like a haunting whisper.

You had become something else. Something dangerous. You brushed past the remnants of a crumbled street, the echoes of the past whispering secrets you no longer understood.

Rick wasn’t like the others, the ones who had succumbed to the virus. He could always see you- his sister, the one he fought for. The thought made your pulse race, a painful reminder of the love you wanted to reject for both of your sakes.

As the infection spread through the world, Rick’s world, you had become an unwanted weapon, a living danger lurking within the shadows.

“Please! You... don’t understand!”

You felt the words bubbling up, but in this wretched state, all that escaped your lips was a low, deep growl. It sent shivers down your spine, and you clenched your jaw shut, refusing to acknowledge the truth- you were losing yourself.

Rick's footsteps grew louder, and it lit a fire of panic within you. You didn’t want him to catch you. The thought of him seeing you in this state made your insides twist with a primal urge to hide.

But even as you ran, you could hear his comforting voice cutting through darkness.

“I won’t leave you! You’re still my sister! We’ll find a way!”

The relentless pounding of your heart echoed with every growl that reverberated in your throat. Instinctively, you knew that the infected didn’t see you as one of their own.

They passed by, oblivious, but only because you controlled the monstrous side of yourself, the side that wanted to rend and tear. If Rick were to come close, if he were to truly see the horror that was now you, there would be no way to reassure him.

You hurtled through the void, branches clawing at your arms. The truth flooded your mind- the experimental treatment hadn’t eradicated the virus; it had transformed it, refined it into something that twisted your very humanity.

You hadn’t asked for this battle; you hadn’t chosen this path. The growls emerged, and as you reached the edge of a dilapidated building, you heard Rick bark your name again, filled with both fear and determination.

“Please! Just let me help you!”

Your feet slowed, the instinct to flee stalling as his voice wrapped around you like a familiar embrace. Torn between the ferocity growing within and the warmth of familial love, you gasped, the remnants of your humanity surfacing.

In that very moment, you turned to face him.

Shoulders squared, chest heaving, bloodshot eyes locked onto his, you growled again- a low, instinctual response to the fear that clawed at you. But beneath that growl, the fragmented pieces of you screamed for help, for understanding.

Rick took a cautious step forward, his jaw tight but his eyes unwavering.

“You’re not a monster...”

He said, voice steady, holding your gaze like a lifeline.

“You’re my sister. Whatever happened, we can face it together.”

You felt the weight of his words, the truth they carried. And yet, the tears that you couldn’t allow to surface burned from within. Rick drew nearer, a beacon of hope shining through the murky fog of your existence, and it began to crack the hardness pooling around your heart.

With a sudden rush of energy, you fell to your knees, the growl subsiding as anguish rippled through you. Your vision blurred, the black veins pulsing like dark rivers beneath your skin.

“I-I don’t want to hurt you..” You finally managed to whisper, your voice raw and quivering, a faint echo of the sister he remembered.

Rick knelt before you, the distance between you closing like a bridge forming across an abyss.

“You won’t hurt me. We’re in this together. I swear it.”

The deep-rooted instinct that had driven you into isolation began to ease. You felt the layers of fear start to peel away.

Yes, you were different, yes, there was darkness creeping inside you, but there was still a flicker of light- a bond forged through love and resilience.

As you looked up at him, your heart full of conflicting emotions, you understood that if you were going to fight against what the world had made you become, you wouldn’t do it alone.

“Okay. I’ll… I’ll come with you.”

You managed to say before another growl ripped it's way out of your chest. Rick didn't back out. He just stood there, looking at you.

Rick smiled, a mixture of relief and pride lighting up his face.

“Let’s find a way to make it through this. Together.”

And as you stood to face the chaos ahead, the shadows breathing around you, they faded just a little, replaced by the bond of family. The last remnant of hope in a world gone dark. It was time to reclaim who you were, and with Rick by your side, you would find a way.

I hope you liked this one!! I really adored this theme, it's so unique and cool. Remember guys, I write for a lot of characters/fandoms and requests are always open!

El <3

(all images were made by: El via canva & paint)

[a-d-nox]

web of wyrd: the karmic tail and who you were in a past life

tw: mention of death, abortion, mental illness, abuse, and addiction.

the numbers we are focusing on today are the bottom three numbers - this is called the karmic tail in web. these numbers are the lessons we need to learn most in our lifetime, but our focus today is on who you were in a past life and why you'd need to learn those lessons. i'm going to break down some i've seen multiple times for karmic tail examples (these numbers can be rearranged in any order to be applied to an observed webs).

so let's get to it:

9-3-21

hermit, empress, and world energy is an interest mix - i think of a few things. first let's quickly break down the energies. hermits can struggle with loneliness, be introverts, wise, whimsical, live a life of isolation/solitude, struggling to look closely at themselves, be too reliant on others, etc. empresses can be powerful, passive, feminists, creatives, dislike themselves, lack ambition to take initiative, struggle with pregnancy, have romantic complications, etc. and world people are either victorious or losers, they let go easily or can't move on in life, they celebrate themselves, be grateful for what they have, tend to be mature, they can lack closure in life, etc. some of the options i could think of as to who these karmic tail people could have been are a single mother, a monarch/queen/princess/duchess/lady (princess diana, is that you?), a famous female writer (it's giving sylvia plath), a convict, a prison or psych ward attendant, a woman who died in child birth or getting a back alley abortion, someone who had an unexpected death, someone who died alone, someone who struggled with self-esteem, etc.

15-5-8

devil, hierophant, and strength - makes my skin crawl honestly... but first let's quickly break down the energies. devil people can be confrontational, have self-destructive thoughts/behaviors, cope in unhealthy manners, etc. hierophants often learn and teach throughout their lifetime, they have a traditional mindset, power, rigid beliefs, can be very close-mindedness, etc. strength people can overcome most things they believe are in their way, they are courageous, confident, fear looking weak, despise looking vulnerable, etc. some of the options i could think of as to who these karmic tail people could have been are abusive parents/partners, addicts, people who abuse their power, bullies, those that play unfairly, etc.

9-9-18

hermit, hermit, and moon - i have a lot of friends with this karmic tail and i constantly talk with them about what it could mean, but let's again break down the energies. hermits can struggle with loneliness, be introverts, wise, whimsical, live a life of isolation/solitude, struggling to look closely at themselves, be too reliant on others, etc. moon people are familiar with their shadow-selves / primal-selves, constantly looking for ways to change/evolve, are spiritual, can be closed off to change, etc. some of the options i could think of as to who these karmic tail people could have been are witches/wizards, garden hermits, psychologists, those who struggled with mental health, etc.

that's all for today. like what you read? leave a tip and state what post it is for! please use my "suggest a post topic". button if you want to see a specific pac/pile next! if you'd like my input on how i read a specific card or what i like to ask my deck, feel free to use the ask button for that as well.

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© a-d-nox 2023 all rights reserved

[summertimemusician]

Linktober Shadow 2024, Day 1, Woods

Man I need to write for First more. Anyway! Another one done and polished, nice and soft and technically a continuation/missing scene from one of last year's one shots that I'm really glad to be able to finish and post. As always the reader pov is gender neutral (can lean either side to whoever is reading) and can be read as romantic or platonic and in or out of an LU context, though I am mainly writing for an hypothetical iteration of First in LU since he is not officially in the comic but a lot of people accept him as part of the official Chain (the author included), and really that's what we have aus for lol. (Also uh, possible TW{?}, just to be safe for those who are squeamish/can't handle graphic descriptions: OoT Dead Hand and it's lore is it's own warning and I do reference it. As always mind your safety and health dear readers. ) Enjoy your reading!

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Long, pale, thin arms bend in shapes not meant for a human body, too many joints bend with sickly cracks, thin fingers adorned with elongated, winking crimson claws hook around your arms and legs, too many limbs that should not belong to a single being reanimated through a sickness of the world holding you in place with indomitable strength fueled only by rigor mortis and hunger no matter how hard you struggle. A stabbing pain upon your skull rips a howl from your throat, a sound better suited to a dying animal than a human being, in the corner of your eye you see the thing slowly slinking closer, once pale robes a mottled, dusty gray, bloodied from the life force of previous victims and fellow tortured souls.

You are a pinned butterfly upon a board, frozen with a primal terror as the claws lacerate through flesh digging, tearing like a rabid dog's teeth upon an unfortunate deer, the things wide, staring eyes meet yours from the top of an impossibly long neck barely supporting it's elongated head, instinctively your struggle renews itself. Gagging at the sickly sweet smell of rot and sick, the scent of metal thick in the air squeezes the breath from your lungs, a cocktail of desperation and helplessness flooding your entire system.

("H—")

It died starving, and hunger still settles over it's decaying features. A broken jaw contorts and twists in a cold, toothy mimicry of a human grin, grotesque and unnatural between the rotted gums and exposed teeth, burning it's stark, decaying and sunken features into your mind.

("—ong?")

The putrid corpse's too blunt, too human teeth sink into the hollow of your collarbone, tears through skin, rips through tendons, it cracks and grinds through bone and meat, something sinks into your pores and it burns. Something too thick to be saliva, closer to tar as it nests beneath your skin like an infection, eating you inside out and you scream and scream and scream-

"Wake up!"

Your eyes snap open as you bolt upright, a scream bitten down with practice from one too many nights traveling in a group haunted by the things called nightmares and insomnia from a life of fighting.

It's just you, the nightly whispering of the woods, the crackling of the fire and First.

The knight's stoic posture relaxes, softens a little, stern features creased as concern flickers through twin azure flames, the moonlight turning his hair the same shade as wheat fields in summer. "My apologies for waking you, I could not bear to watch the terrors interrupt your rest any for any longer."

You breathe in the sight of the hero, of the woods of Twilight's era with it's dark trees shedding honey and maple scales onto the ground as life went to slumber and the smell of birch and maple and hawthorn and attempt to quell your shaking. It's a futile effort, you're shivering from the late autumn breeze like as if the woods' leaves had taken a human shape, the memory of the empty eyes and a sunken skull and fine strands of human hair clinging to a decaying skull sinks it's claws into your mind. "There's no need. It was probably for the best." Your gaze drifts around the camp as you palm around for your quilt knocked over in your struggle, the firelight allows you to see the other boys, and you distractedly note your long dagger is right where you left it; it helps loosen the hold the hooks that night left on you, you swallow thickly. "Did I wake anyone up?"

First shakes his head, your shaking fingers meet fabric and your distracted mind is yanked back to reality when the motions of using it's warmth and weight as a shield against the world are already done.

It's not your quilt, painstakingly made with Malon's help and teachings inherited from Sun on one of the quieter moments you and the Chain had in each era since you've started traveling with them. A mark of friendship that served as a balm for difficult days.

(A little after Sun confirmed you were not a threat, to the relief of your cautious companions, a little before you had found First half delirious with duty not yet fulfilled and death stolen from a mortal body and blood loss and dragged him from the brink with meager medical knowledge and later back to the Chain on your back.)

It's First's cape, as red as the feathers of his and Sky's loftwings, soft and warm and carrying the scent of breezes through hylian fields and leather and metal.

There's a quirk to his generally stern, elegant countenance as you turn your shocked eyes to his, as amused and warm as he's allowed himself to be. First's hand falls over yours as you make to remove it, cautious and with as much care as a bird landing on someone's hand, you can't help but marvel a little at it, the part of you that would either jump for joy or break down into sobs from pride were you not so tired. First was the most distant of the Links, drifting just on the edges of the Chain, with a kind heart that had chunks ripped out both by cruel fate and still bled to this day; he could be cold, of course, but anyone could see how weariness had been carved into the lines of his being. A spirit made to never be broken but not never damaged, who never had a chance to heal.

"You need it more than me." He rumbles softly, insistently. You catch the glimpse of the discoloration on his wrists as his hands reach to readjust the scar, not unlike the tears marring your arms and your heart aches a little.

You've both come a long way.

You stop your motions with a small sigh and as soon as the knight is done, you pick up your discarded quilt, determined to return the favor. You know it's his turn to keep watch, as him, Warriors and Time generally swapped the second turn between themselves (much to your exasperation and the Chain's), but there's no reason he can't continue doing so comfortably.

"Join me? It's chilly and it's not like I'll be going back to sleep anytime soon." You offer, offering him the blanket in turn.

First tilts his head and gives you a look, it's a bad excuse, it's only mid autumn after all, the campfire, and you're both well aware that he's withstood worse than the fall winds between his imprisonment and crossing the skies atop Vermilion.

Still, he nods, the ghost of a smile clings to the edges of his face as he sits by you. Allowing you to wrap the quilt around his shoulders, facing the fire and the woods. "Of course."

You smile, it's a small thing of broken glass and haunted nights, but it's there.

Between the crisp, cool autumn air, the return of your smile, the one who unwittingly guided him back to his fellow heroes and the knowledge that he's not alone, that's more than enough for First.

The two of you spend the rest of the second watch quietly chatting, First about his time with his fellow knights, before the imprisonment, about Orville and the ballads and legends of his time, you trade him stories of your own home, myths and legends, tales and stories you've grown up hearing and reading in your childhood into your adulthood. At some point you drift closer together, his chin atop your head and your head on his shoulder.

It's peaceful.

Neither of you have nightmares that night.

(A gentle hand hesitantly finds it's way to your head, lighter than a feather, clothed in butterfly scales and diamond dust, it brushes softly through your hair. The pale figure smiles, careful fingers softly rest over First's sleeping face, and the being's eyes soften, clearer than the sky on a summer day, a hum leaves the pale entity's slender throat, and the world follows in symphony.

Content, She does not linger.

The wind through the trees sound like singing.)