𝝑𝝔

"good," you get for your efforts. another chill ripples down your spine. veritas traces your teeth, pressing on the points as if to test their sharpness. and you stay still, holding your mouth open even when veritas pulls his hand back. fingers under your chin. you are tipped up a bit more, then veritas hooks his thumb over your bottom row of teeth and pulls your mouth open wider. 

"you gonna fuck me now?" you ask, try to. does your voice always sounded like that? desperate. you whine before nuzzling into the inside of his thigh.

"no, you haven't deserved it yet" he starts, holding your wrist with his free hand and putting your fingers above his thigh. you know that it means if you want me to stop, tap twice, and it makes heat coil in your belly. "you take what i give you or nothing at all."

you want to roll your eyes at him, but the very second you wrap your lips around him, he has both hands on your head, not moving it, not pushing you down or anything, just resting there. 

he goes slow at first, wanting you to get used with the feeling, you can feel the weight of veritas' gaze. and when you moan, one of your hands still working up and down along veritas' shaft as tears beginning to prickle at the corners of your eyes, his thrusts turn sharp and fast, your jaw aching from how long you had veritas' fat cock in your mouth.

"breathe," he says, watching the way you smirk at him as if you've won some sort of award. he narrows his eyes at you, "you can choke all you want, but your impatience is not going to get you anywhere."

before you can even argue again, he's guiding your lips back on him. just a moment goes by when you feel his hands grip your hair, pulling slightly and following the rhythm of your movements, just putting a bit more force behind them until he finally presses you one last time against his pelvic bone, swirling his hips and stretching out your throat impossibly more around him.

"messy." his sighs echo throughout his empty walls and it causes your eyes to flutter as you try to breathe in through your nose. when you gag, he moans again.

veritas' thrusts begin to turn erratic as he fucks your mouth, a growl erupting out of him on a particularly hard thrust, and you feel so enlightened, nodding dazedly around his cock before pulling off, tilting your head up and dropping your jaw. 

veritas bends down, smiling at your fucked out face, mascara tracked tears, your spit covered chin, and spits right into your waiting mouth.

"thank you.” you say, as always.

𝐢𝐢.ㅤ ㅤSUNDAYㅤㅤ ❛ㅤㅤ your eyes.

he thinks you are pretty, pretty when you smile, pretty when you cry. after all, they say the eyes are the mirror of the soul, and so, he always do his best to fuck you until everything's hazy and blurry with his blatant desire.

sunday just knows how you feel by the way your eyes roll back he palmed the bend of your knee, pressing the joint by your temple as to ease his strife, and he faltered when you sobbed his name, eagerly arching your tremoring pelvis into his own because he had begun to relentlessly hammer a delicate plot that induced your vision to flicker and blurrily haze with spangled glimmers of hot electricity. 

and, for the third time, sunday slows down, hips flush against your ass he can nudge his cockhead right above your sweet spot, missing it on purpose, because he knows what to do to make your eyes prickle with tears as easy.

"always so good for me," sunday groans, a badgering ache numbed your rational thought, swallowing the sensible and only rational portion of your conscious in a sudden pit of longing. "i've broken you in, haven't i?"

"p-please, sunday— please, please, please let me c-come," you sob, as if all would be lost if the climax you'd been chasing mischievously slipped through your quivering fingertips. "w-wanna cum on your cock, please, ah—" ⠀ ⠀ 

wild pulsations rendered his brain to mush and melted his forefront conscious into a haze of silver lining. you gasp, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck and biting at the untouched skin.

"so pretty when you beg," he compliments. he's just as far off as you. ruby red and temple coated with sweat, sunday is flush and trembling under your hold. "does it feel good, love? say it," sunday commands, but you don't understand, can't understand with your mind being in such a pleasurable haze. he fucks up right in the time he pulls you back down by your waist, downright impaling you on his cock. "say you're mine."

"yours," you repeat, and he bites on your lower lip. you have enough of a mind presence to admire his bulging biceps contorting with your weight, and his huge test firm and sweaty from the effort.

"again," his possessive side gets the best of him, admiring all the marks he has left in your neck. "say it again."

"yours, ah!" a moan breaks at the end of the word, sunday's thrusts getting rougher, faster and there's heat pooling down on your lower stomach. "i'm y-yours, all yours, only yours."

"yes, mine," sunday agrees, and sunday thinks you are a vision like this.

you are looking at him like he's an angel, like a devil he's completely consumed by. you are still clad in your clothes, moving up body up and down, docile and pliant on sunday's cock as if you are nothing but a beloved toy.

"mine." he reachs forward to run his hand down your stomach, under your shirt, his touch soft enough to have you brokenly stuttering. 

drawing his name from your lips, you arched further into the bed as the last of your orgasm shook your weak limbs. his name carried significance. the tenor more than just a lovely echo of your rapture.

𝐢𝐢𝐢.ㅤ ㅤJIAOQIU ㅤㅤ ❛ㅤㅤ your breast.

they are just so soft, and all for him to suck, for him to claim.

"i barely moved and you're already falling apart," jiaoqiu tells you, voice strained from effort but still full of fondness, and you feel butterflies dancing in your stomach at the praise. it seems like he wants his orgasm to ebb away. at the look you're giving him, he adds: "wanna cum with you, yeah?." ⠀ ⠀

you mewl at the thought, watching him position himself between your legs again and kissing you slowly. jiaoqiu caresses your cheek with a gentle thumb, other hand tracing a feather-like path down your body. his fingers brush against your nipple, the whine you let out being swallowed by jiaoqiu's greedy mouth, and he sneaks his hand under your shirt just as his kisses fly to your neck.⠀

and then he's sucking. hard.

your hands fly to his hair, cunt throbbing with need when he tongues at the purple hickey, and it's throbbing, pulsating with how hard he sucked.

"jiaoqiu, fuck," you whimper, body oversensitive with all that has been going on, hand coming to pinch your other nipple like he's telling you how much this affects him. "please—"

jiaoqiu bites at it, tongue coming to soothe the pain later, and you're sure the grip you have on his hair must be painful, but he says nothing; only looks more intent on making you moan. he busies himself with sucking hickeys all over the place as one of his hands continues to descend down your body, thumb pressing in a spot by your hips that has your back arching and a desperate whine being pulled out of you.

you feel warm all over, how he always remembers exactly your pleasure point, the place that has your head spinning with pleasure.

"look at you," his fingers brush the underside of your chin, a few of his fingers cupping the base of your neck as to lift your head from you peripheral and bring it to his forefront visual. "grinding against everything. you're quite the needy thing, aren't you?" tilting your head as if examining a newfound discovery, his hips erratically jerk, and the breathless pants from your mouth divulged your own craving.

you're so responsive in both body and voice, jolting with every thrust, arching sharply, legs spasming like you can't take, but he knows you can.

"fuck me, please" you say, beg, euphoria peaked above its horizon, singeing his goosed skin with excited jolts. "please, want you, wanna feel you—"

humming into the feral abundance of the rough brush of his lips, you can't help but arch against jiaoqiu as he twists and pinches the tender skin of your nipples, and your breath hitches at the feel of his mouth brushing your nipple, whining at the feel of his tongue inching closer to your bud. 

"keep it together now," devouring you with a magnetic gape, your hues inundated, drinking in your flustered disposition. "it would be a pity if i stopped now."

"a pity," you repeat stupidly. in your defense, you feel as if your brain is melting.

he smiles, and deliberately ignoring your request, he decides to take the tip into his mouth wholly to suck, pushing the nip to the rough of his mouth while his other hand tends to the other breast. it looks like you'll have to wait a little longer

𝐢𝐯.ㅤ ㅤBOOTHILLㅤㅤ ❛ㅤㅤ your hips.

he is just a little obssessed with the softness of your skin underneath his cold fingers.

he is always reaching out to you in some way, whether is a hand in your thigh or an arm around your waist. especially if it's to keep you from squirming in his grip.

"hah," he states simply, a sound of pleasant surprise, and adds another finger inside. boothill pushes them to the hilt, until his knuckles brush your pelvis. you moan, head thrown back at the sudden, but welcomed intrusion. "acting all nervous around me but this is exactly what ya wanted, aint'cha?"

your teeth clenched but the effort was momentary as mewls of whimpers parted your lips. your hips eagerly bucked into his working hand, desperately aiding him to reach a depth that would cause your eyes to roll, much like they did when his thump began to swipe fast circles over the aroused bud of your clit.

 “forkin’ wet for me, huh? yer gonna sing pretty for me when ya come on my fingers, yeah?” his lips latched onto the skin of your shoulder, and he worked his away along the base until kissing the incision of flesh that dimpled behind your ear. 

you can't even think straight, hips rising off of the bed, but boothill holds your hips with his free hand and pins them down hard you know will leave bruises. your upper body lifts with this, back arching and legs kicking everywhere as you can't stop the loud moans slipping through your lips.

"s’good, isnt it, baby?," he says, licking against your bottom lip as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you, "let me hear you."

he brought his inactive hand to fondle the nipple of your breast, rolling the sensitive bud beneath his fingertips, mindful to place bruising kisses along your neck where deep shapes of his ministrations would be left for you to cover.

"boothill," you groan, rolling your eyes back while rolling your hips forward, hand shooting to his and holding it there, "want your mouth-please."

he chuckles, dipping his head down to give a sharp bite against your nipple, his fingers still curling up into that spot.

"come on my fingers first." he says, floored by how good your voice sounds when you want to get fucked.

you roll your hips forward harder, grinding your clit against his wrist and essentially fucking yourself on his fingers now. he moans against your nipple at the movement, biting down harder as he hears you just above him holding your breath.

"that's it babe, ride it." he encourages, hearing your wet slide against his fingers with each movement of your body.

you shake as it washes through you, feeling his fingers remain in their spot against your little bundle of pleasure inside of you. you feel like you can explode from this alone and he practically forces it out of you, pulling his fingers out and immediately rubbing circles on your clit.

"i've got you," he encourages in a pleasured sigh, watching your body tremble involuntarily as your face contorts to what anyone else would assume is pain.

your heart pounds. your brain is whirring, moving a mile a minute and you feel like you can't breathe. everything, everything is so blurry except for him. whose gripping your skin like you're everything to him. like he needs you, like a lifeline, like he can't let you go.

you both loved it.

𝐯.ㅤ ㅤAVENTURINEㅤㅤ ❛ㅤㅤ your hands.

 aventurine doesn't say i love you often. not when you are alone, not when you fuck.

aventurine likes to pretend that you aren't painfully soft with him, but the truth is that you are, and have been for a while now. you do things like this frequently. you no longer give in to goading or falls for the traps aventurine sets for you.

your hand curl around his dick now, cold against the flushed skin but he doesn't care. he's engrossed admiring your fucked out state. he's always telling you how beautiful you look; sweat drips down your temples and your lips are swollen and so so sweet, cries melodic and high, still not tinged with the usual hoarseness it gets when aventurine abuses of your throat with his cock.

"somebody's made a mess," you hum, and aventurine thinks how dirty it is— the sticky wet feeling of his own release against his shaft, the obscene image of how his erection looks wrapped in your hand— it wrenches a moan out of him, it has him thrusting up into your hand.

his futile attempts did little as to alleviate the prodding knot that prompted him to toss his head against the cotton pillowcase. hasty fondle of himself induced naught a reaction, and he bitterly grumbled before arching his back where he lay, huffs of contempt lengthening until pitiful whimpers had been the only sound.

"you are enjoying this a little too much, friend," aventurine tells you, low and rough. 

"don't you?" your hand caresses his thigh, so he's thrusted into, slow, testing. 

you are gentle even in this, though aventurine has given you permission to be rough over and over. it doesn't matter. you continue to treat him kindly. it still feels like ripped flesh and shattered dreams and the aches that sit inside long healed scars. it's okay, aventurine can still destroy himself with this.

he should've figured something like this would happen soon. you know a little too much. "i live to please," aventurine wonders. "i've told you, haven't i? use me as you wish"

"oh." you say, quietly. "is that so?."

his heart stops, but the hand on his dick pumps ever faster. he's ruined you, he knows, but in the same way, you've ruined him. now all he wants- all he'll accept- is you, your body, your hands, all of you.

aventurine doesn't voice none of that, and so he avoids your gaze. good. better that way. you make it feel good too often. he needs to balance the scales.

"fuck fuck fuck, shit," aventurine breathes, voice gravelly, his grip in your hair getting tighter and tighter. tingles spark down your spine, for what had lasted only minutes drilled into lengthening ticks of time. such a case wasn't familiar to him. the antagonizing build that pooled until coiled into a tight dam awaiting its chance to burst.

you kiss him for what feels like the hundredth time— but this time there's something different, something urgent, and he grasps the back of your neck when he attempts to ease the ache himself, swiping rough compresses against whatever he could reach, furthermore tucking a hand beneath his thighs to clutch at his neglected balls, but his caress hardly could amount to yout touch-

 he harbored no genuine resentment, but with how his conscious craved their touch, he was bound to blame. "then tell me what you want, aventurine."

𝐯𝐢.ㅤ ㅤJING YUAN ㅤㅤ ❛ㅤㅤ your thighs.

"so pretty," you hear him mumble. "i could watch you all day."

you can feel his breath, the torrent of his day in the patterns of his breathing, the way he clings on to your skin telling tales of his frustrations. so you let him. you let him look and love and feast, devour you whole. and jing yuan doesn’t know what to do with it. doesn’t know how to hold so much love and adoration even in his big, big palms.

jing yuan swears he can die happy between your thighs, the way you still watch him, his eyes glaring up from between your spread thighs as he lets his tongue fall from his mouth and lick one long and languid stripe up your core, stopping just before your clit and pulling back as if he's tasting. 

he always touches like this is the only chance he’ll ever get. he digs his fingers into the pudge of your thighs, he holds you like you’ll crumble to dust. he’s so overwhelmed. you can feel his breath, the torrent of his day in the patterns of his breathing, the way he clings on to your skin telling tales of his frustrations. so you let him. you let him look and love and feast, devour you whole.

you roll your hips forward, and he instantly attaches his lips to your clit. you stop, and he trails back down and flicks his tongue against your folds in a teasing way. you grind forward, he's right back on your clit, flicking his muscle the same way and eliciting a whine from you.

"w-wait," you gasp, and aeons, you're gonna lose it. even if you didn't want to, you'd think the way he's moving his mouth is enough to get anyone to take advantage of it. 

“look at you,” he murmurs, full of mirth, full of adoration. his palm comes to curve against the swell of your cheek, thumb brushing along your cheekbone. “pretty.”

and then you're weightless, control leaving you as he wraps his arms around your thighs and presses up, pulling you down with him, spreading your pussy out across his lips for him to take full control of. he nips at your clit before licking down, pressing the pointed muscle into you and only then does he release your legs. now, he's sliding both hands under your ass and rocking you against his face, angling his head so that he can lick inside of your walls to truly taste you.

"all for me" he says, and you're whispering, gasping for him, melting at the seams, feeling the strong muscle flick once, twice over your sensitive nub before pressing harshly into you. you jerk, small whines dripping off your lips as he grips your flesh, pushing himself impossibly deeper into yo

you go brainless, pulling at the roots of his hair as you push yourself down against him, suckling on it as he digs his fingers into your inner thighs, whimpering and rutting your hips against his face. jing yuan's fierce, violent, like all his passion coming alive in his ember-tipped tongue that's digging deep in you, sticky and warm and fuck, you're dripping, coating his chin and his nose in all you have to offer.

“Woah, woah.” It’s sweet how concerned he sounds as his hands fly up to the bar and his feet nudge you forward to help you replace the weight on the rack, but his hips end up pressed to yours, and you’re gasping. “You okay?”

You’re fine, caged between him and the bar as he leans over your shoulder to glimpse your face that’s flushed from exertion. Only exertion, surely, even though your ass is pressed firmly to his pelvis. He doesn’t seem hard, but you can still feel it, and it feels big.

“Yeah,” you breathe, moving to duck under the bar, but it’s low and you’re feeling a little dizzy, so you teeter backwards into him, and as his hands find your waist again. “Yeah, I’m about to be done anyway.”

“You should really stretch after maxing out like that,” he suggests, turning you around. “Don’t wanna be hurting, do you?”

But you can only look into his intense eyes and shake your head lightly before he’s easing you to the ground on your back, settling each of his knees over one of your thighs, and slotting his shoulder beneath your hamstring. He pushes forward, gently, slowly, looking to you for anything wrong; and there isn’t.

There’s nothing wrong, except for the fact that you can feel his huge dick against your pussy through both of your shorts.

It’s all you need to start moving blindly, reaching down for his waistband, pawing at his neck, mashing his lips to yours, and he doesn’t hesitate to do it back—he lets up on your leg only to slip your shorts off before your ankle is back over his shoulder and he’s grinding the head of his cock into your wetness.

“You gonna let me in, baby?” he pants hotly, looking down at you squirming beneath him. “Yeah, I know you will—you’re strong, you can take it.”

His tip catches on your clit, and you gasp before he’s plunging into you, setting a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck!”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he groans. “So fuckin’ tight.”

He hits the inside of you perfectly, his soft ginger hair falling loose from its low pony—you wish you knew his name so you could scream it, but you settle for moaning, panting, cussing, as he throws your other leg over his shoulder and drills into you on the gym mat. ⊹

⊹ OSAMU DAZAI—MY OLDER BROTHER ALMOST CAUGHT ME FUCKING HIS BEST FRIEND!

“Shit—I’ll be back, gonna go shower this off. Asshole.”

That was what your older brother, Chuuya, grumbled at Dazai before scurrying off to the bathroom. The three of you had just gotten back from getting ice cream, and Dazai had the brilliant idea of snatching Chuuya’s cone from him and sticking it in his hair. Cursing ensued the entire walk home.

And Dazai popped the tail end of his cone in his mouth and grabbed for your wrists as soon as your brother was out of sight, which leads you to now—in the living room, on the couch, bouncing furiously on his cock as he grunts.

“Osamu—be quiet!” you plead with him, but you’re moaning, too.

His lips fall into a grin. “Don’t worry, cutie, I can still hear the shower—fuck! Just keep—keep doing that, you feel so fucking good.”

So you reinforce your grip on his shoulders and slam your hips down to meet his, over and over, drawing sinful sounds from both of your bodies as you’re separated by a single thin wall from your brother—Dazai’s best friend, who would probably murder both of you if he found out you were fucking.

And then the water turns off. You muffle the choked cry you let out into Dazai’s shoulder, so damn frustrated that you won’t get there, not before Chuuya comes back—but Dazai’s flipping you onto your back, grabbing you by your hips, pulling you into him with such fervor that you almost shout.

“Need it, baby, I need to cum in this pussy—”

“Osamu!”

But even you can’t tell if you’re egging him on or warning him to stop—with no sound buffer and Chuuya undoubtedly coming back any minute, your body decides for you that you need it, too, you need to cum and you will, no matter how much your mind protests; your eyes flick nervously up to the hallway when they’re not rolling back from how Dazai’s rearranging your guts.

“He’s gonna come back—unh—and you’re gonna sit here with my cum in you, and he won’t even fuckin’ know.”

He’s digging his nails into your hips and ass, making you twitch, reaching down to rub your clit hard, and when you cum, clenching around him, he shoves his palm over your mouth and spills into you with a last few wet smacks.

Dazai’s scrambling back into his pants as footsteps pad down the hall; he all but throws himself at the other end of the couch as you curl up, dressed but fucked silly, focused on not letting the evidence of what just happened gush out of you and leak onto the couch.

“Fuck was that noise?” Chuuya mumbles, sauntering out as he’s tying his wet hair up.

“Hm? I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything.”

When Chuuya turns toward the kitchen, Dazai tosses you a wink. Your face burns as you feel yourself leaking. ⊹

⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA—COLLEGE HOTTIE SUCKS DICK FOR EXTRA CREDIT!

"You do realize I'm going to have to fail you," your professor informs you, looking into your eyes with a little regret. Truthfully, you've always been personable in class and shown promise as a student, and he's disappointed. Not in you, just in your poor academic performance during your final semester.

"There has to be something I can do to make up for it," you nearly plead, hands clasped together on the edge of his desk as you look to him with hope. You know you've been slacking, but you need this class to graduate.

"I don't know—" He sighs your name, clearly confliced. Your attendance record is less than impressive these days, and Kunikida's enforced a strict class participation policy throughout his years of teaching—as well as no extra credit—something he makes clear to all of his students in all of his classes, and you especially should know better after taking his classes for four years. "I don't know. Like what?" Maybe you can do a few credits in the summer and still walk at graduation, or pick up an internship. But he wants you to take the initiative and accountability.

He doesn't really know how to protest when you're slipping out of your seat and sinking to your knees as a spark starts to gleam in your eyes. You rattle off a few academic ideas for posterity, but ultimately find your hands sliding up his thighs and fiddling with his belt.

Fuck it, you think, you'll be out of here soon enough. Plus, Kunikida's always been kind, compassionate, understanding, and sexy—too invested in his field to even notice that handfuls of students on campus would throw themselves at him given the chance. Maybe he'll finally understand, you muse to yourself, as you work his hardening cock out of his dress pants.

He chokes out your name when you take his length in both of your hands; he's all the way gone when you're swirling your tongue over his tip, giving in to your little idea for extra credit sooner than he'd ever admit to himself.

"Oh, fuck—" He's staring up at the ceiling of his office in pure bliss because his student is working hot, sloppy kisses down the underside of his cock. His hands twist into your hair, and you gaze up at him, doe-eyed, as his head falls forward and he looks at you through his glasses. "Keep going. Don't fucking stop."

He's trying not to thrust into your mouth when you fondle his balls; his pretty blond bangs are dampening with sweat, and you can't take your eyes off him as you bob your head faster, hollowing your cheeks around him and moaning at the taste of your professor's cock heavy in your mouth. He twitches and jumps at your attention to detail—your fingers raking tracks down his thighs, your frantic tongue, your fluttering lashes and sugary moans, gags, and slurps that are music to him.

You know, as he falls apart more and more by the second, you won't have to worry about this class anymore.

"Unh—uh, yes, oh, fuck, we'll work something out, yeah, gorgeous? Just don't stop—d—don't stop, don't fucking stop, I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat, yeah, and we'll get it all figured out." ⊹

⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA—NAUGHTY SECRETARY SEDUCES HOT BOSS!

You're perched on his desk when he returns from the meeting—Yukichi, your boss, who, lately, you can't stop thinking about climbling like a tree. You're sure your coworkers see it, too, but you're his personal assistant; no one gets to be as close to him as you, and he trusts you.

Which is why you'll put the moves on him today.

He runs a hand through his silver hair—obviously stressed—sighing as he pulls his office door shut and turns to you. He speaks your name, holds a few papers in your direction, begins instructing you on what he needs from you next.

But you know better what he needs. The papers that make their way into your hands are quickly forgotten about on his desk as you uncross your legs and hop down, sauntering up to place on hand on his arm, the other on his chest.

"Sir, you look so tense. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do?"

He makes his way to sit down in his office chair, disregarding your touch in a way that has you following after him like a puppy in need of attention.

He doesn't answer, but he also doesn't protest when you settle between his knees beneath his desk and push his yukata and haori up to pool around his hips. His dick is thick and veiny, even soft; when you spit in your hand and begin to work him up and down his mouth falls open with a sigh, and he grows at least two inches as he hardens beneath your grip.

You didn't think you'd be able to fit his absolute monster cock in your mouth, but you find yourself, throat open, with your nose pressed to his happy trail as you swirl your tongue and breathe through your nose frantically; he holds your face down, speaking very little but making up for it with the way he grunts hotly in that deep, rough voice as he bucks into the back of your throat.

"Unh—ugh..."

You breathe through your nose as his hips fall into a brutal pace; his hands on either side of your head keep you pinned in place as he uses you, takes his stress out on you. Your fingers massage his balls, and you can't help the way you hum around him when he twitches in your mouth.

Yukichi pulls out of your jaw and you gasp for air, wiping the spit that drips down your chin with the back of your hand, but he's not done. When he does speak, it's demanding, low, and it makes your cunt throb with need.

"Get up. Get up, sit on the desk. 'Need to fuck you."

You do as you’re told, open up for him with no hesitation, smiling as he works his fat cock into you—yeah, his stress will be gone in no time with the way he fucks your hole so hard and fast that you shake with each creak of his desk. ⊹

⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA—STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR WITH MY SEXY NEIGHBOR!

"Ah! Atsushi, open the door!"

"Um," he frets, punching the button until he's sure it'll break. If it's not broken already. "I—I can't, it's not working!"

Not working? Is he fucking serious? You're trapped in the door—all you did was try to reach back out for your bag you'd set by the elevator and now you're stuck, by the waist, between the two sliding maneuvers, your bag dangling from your hands.

"It's supposed to have a sensor! It's not supposed to even close when someone's on the threshold!" you cry through your teeth as you try to squirm out. Atsushi's mind is already working, though, over the way you're pinned in half, wiggling your ass as you struggle against the industrial strength of the elevator door. "Atsushi, help me, please call someone or something—"

But his hands are on your hips, pulling backward, and you can't help the noise of surprise that slips out of you.

"Atsu', I seriously don't think that will work, please, just call—Atsushi!"

His hands shake as he slides your pants and underwear down your thighs, exposing your ass; he tunes out your protesting as he undoes his belt. You hear the clink of it hitting the ground, you feel his fingers dipping into your cunt from behind, and he cannot be fucking serious.

"I'm sorry," he cries like it's out of his control—he feels like it is. "I'm sorry, you're so hot, you're right here, I've wanted this for so long."

And you feel yourself beginning to drip at his desperate tone. You can't fucking believe it—this is depraved. This is some shit you would've never expected from the sweet, cute boy in the apartment across the hall who helped you drag your bedframe and couch from this very elevator to your room but here he is, prodding at you with his pathetically leaky cock while you're stuck in the damn elevator door.

And you'd be frustrated with how your body reacts, but as he slides his dick along your cunt, drenching himself in your wetness, you can't help but arch back into his touch.

"Atsushi, you have to fuck me, please."

And he does, fast and unpracticed—he whimpers for you, tells you you're all he thinks about when he jerks off; he confesses that he looks through his peephole when he knows you're leaving for work or school just to get at least one glimpse of you everyday to fuel his imagination, and you gush around him, the pain of the door trapping you falling irrelevant, drifting out of your mind, as he buries his face in your shoulder and humps into you like an animal, pounding against your cervix.

"Fuck, that's right, so good, so, so good—better than I could've imagined—agh, fuck, that's right, take it all, take it, take it, take it...!" ⊹

⊹ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA—HOT BABE HAS NO MONEY, LETS THE DELIVERY BOY DESTROY THAT PUSSY!

You rifle through your wallet and hum when you come up short. "Um, I... know you said you don't have a card reader, but I don't have enough cash."

The delivery boy looks at you with little more than boredom until you invite him in.

"Here, let me look in my room—I might have more stashed somehwere..."

He stands over you, searching you with his curious gray eyes as you dig through a drawer, a bag, another bag, only to come up short again. You even peek under your mattress for good measure, but you're just out. You turn to him sheepishly.

"I, uh... I don't have enough, I'm really sorry."

"Well, I can't leave without some form of payment," he deadpans, and you try to think of something, anything—you have a few giftcards for other delivery services, some jewelry—but he's letting his bag fall off his shoulder and grabbing you by the hips before you can register what he means.

You end up face down, ass up on your bed as a compromise, his hips rutting into you from behind as he holds your wrists behind your back. Ryuunosuke his name tag read—you're quick to adopt a way around that mouthful, moaning out, "Ryuu, Ryuu, please!" as he splits you open and calls you a whore.

"Fuckin' slut—"

When you're able to glance back for a second you can see his pretty black hair swaying with each rough thrust, and you're sure he's hitting your lungs—he's so fucking deep inside you, and you're gasping, moaning for more.

"—so eager to—unh—take this dick. Probably hiding your cash somewhere."

But whether you are or not doesn't matter; your eyes are rolling back to the hard smack of his hips against your ass and the white-hot pleasure that rolls through you every time he plows straight into your g-spot, and he's throbbing inside of you at the way your cunt grips him. Your pizza's getting cold on the counter in your kitchen, but you don't care—not when he bunches his fingers up in your hair to arch you back up to him so he can wrap his other hand around your throat.

You hold onto him as he bends you, pulling air down into your lungs when you can, and his gravelly voice barrages you with more words that make you gush around his cock.

"Gonna let me cum in this pussy so you don't have to fork over a few bucks for a pizza? Pathetic."

His teeth sink into your shoulder, his other hand reaches down to torture your neglected clit, and you're sure he's gonna break you over this, your hot delivery boy who just so happened to have the idea to fill you up as payment. You pant his name desperately between thunderous moans—you're gonna cum soon. ⊹

⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA—THIS PLUMBER FIXED MORE THAN JUST MY PIPES!

"Okay, that should do it." The man stands up, back to a height at which he towers over you, and you lean on the doorframe to the kitchen as he shuts the cabinets beneath your sink. "It's all movin' again."

You were in your robe when you answered the door, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't run to the bathroom to fix your hair and swipe on a little lip balm while he was working. Really, you hadn't meant to try to fuck the plumber. But this man was gorgeous, with his auburn hair, stubble-lined jaw, large hands, broad shoulders. You felt your eyes widen when you first laid eyes on him, and now you'd been throbbing thinking about what those thick fingers could do other than plumbing.

You pull your robe tighter around yourself, hoping to subtly accentuate the outline of your body. "Thank you so much, really, I don't know what I'd have done without the sink."

"Probably used the dishwasher a lot more," he cracked dryly, and your previous words suddenly feel stupid, but it only serves to make him hotter.

"How should I pay you?" You stride over to him. "Cash?"

"You can just pay online." He looks tired, but he has a well-meaning smile on his face.

You look a little incredulous. "Really? I can't—do you accept tips? Seriously, top notch work and super quick. I can't not thank you."

"I'm really not supposed to take tips," he drawls, running a hand through his hair. You find yourself biting your lip; you can't look away from him. You must look like a rabid animal right now, but you can't help it.

He doesn't tear his eyes away from yours.

"I mean, unless..."

Those three words are what find you on your back in your bedroom with your robe thrown open, the sweet and efficient plumber named Sakunosuke standing at the edge as he impales you on his cock. He worked you open with those fingers first, fast and harsh, just how you begged him to, but nothing could've prepared your weeping hole for the stretch of his fat dick—and now he's pounding into you, his hands clutching your waist as you hold your legs open for him to thrust deeper, deeper.

“Oh, shit. Unh—so wet—“

His groans come from his chest, deliciously—he looks a little like he knows he shouldn't be doing this, but your cunt is sucking him in like it was what he was supposed to come here for all along. You spasm and clench around him and he throws his head back, your whole body rippling as his strong hips and heavy balls smack lewdly against your ass with each thrust.

“Mmph—fuck—break that sink of yours more often, alright?” ⊹

⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI—I JOINED THE MILE HIGH CLUB (EXTREMELY RISKY)!

The man you met in the airport bar—oh, he’s pretty.

He's even prettier in your mind when the pilot announces phone permissions now that you're in the air, and the first notification your phone receieves is from him.

I have an open seat next to me in first class. Come visit.

You don't hesitate for a moment. You stride forward from the economy section, past the flight attendants who protest at you flimsily to search for his seat number—you see his unmistakably gorgeous hair, his glasses, his sharp side profile as he speaks to an attendant, catches you in his peripheral, and then shoos her away.

There's hardly niceties before one of your legs is slung over his knee and he kisses you with fervor. You don't think too hard about the people around you—none of whom can actually see you but without a doubt will know exactly what's happening in a few minutes—as you grind down onto his thigh, bite his lips, draw soft gasps from him when your knee nudges his bulge.

Before you know it, his cock is free and he slides your underwear to the side so you can sink onto him; he groans shamelessly when your wet heat envelops him completely, causing heads to turn in your direction, but you just brace your knees against the airplane seat and your hands on his shoulders make quick work of milking him of everything he has.

He kisses you, hot, heavy; he smells good, he smells expensive, and you tear his dress shirt open to rake your nails down his chest as he grabs your hips, letting his head fall back and a full-bodied moan into the cramped air of the plane as he does so. You lift up to let him thrust, let lewd smacks resonate throughout first class, and with your chest in his face he rides your shirt up to latch his teeth to one of your nipples; you echo him, moaning unabashedly, running your hands through your hair, gripping him as people look on.

"Fuuuck, yeah, feels so good," he praises from beneath you. "Knew I had to fuck you from the second I saw you." His eyebrows draw up in concentration as he looks down at where your bodies meet and continues fucking up into you hard. "Hah—listen to that cunt cry for me. You like being watched, huh? Gonna let me fuck you 'til the plane smells like sex? Huh?"

You nod, messily, desperately, and he quickens his pace ever faster, pulling you back down into a sloppy kiss.

An attendant awkwardly approaches in the aisle, but the gorgeous man who's destroying your insides just holds up a palm, shoos her away again.

"Fuck—so sexy. Keep takin' this dick." ⊹

⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL—LUCKY INTRUDER GETS TO FUCK HORNY VICTIM!

You're splayed out on your bed, two fingers stuffed deep in your cunt—and he's just surprised you didn't hear him breaking the lock on your front door.

When you meet his eyes, you're so glazed over with pleasure that you barely miss a beat, your gaze only blowing wide when he peers around your bedroom doorway. His snowy white hair, his sharp features—you can't find the sense to be alarmed at this unfamiliar man, the one holding your laptop and—is that your wallet?

Doesn't matter—they're clattering to the ground, another factor here you can't find it in yourself to care about as his gray eyes are locked onto you fucking yourself open on your sheets. The sheen of sweat that covers your skin, your desperate moans as you grind your clit against your palm, the obscene squelching that comes from your wet cunt—they all serve to propel him over to you, prompt him to dig his already-hard cock out of his pants as you just watch, beg him with your stare to come fill you up. You're so lucky he's here, really—you look like you're struggling to get deep enough with your pathetic little fingers; he guesses it's only fair that he repay you for the material goods he's about to rob you of and pawn off on whatever sucker will buy them for cash, right?

"Right? I'll help you out—" He gives his cock a few pumps as he positions himself between your legs, "—looks like you need it, sweetheart."

You can only bite your lip to supress the moan that leaves you as he enters your cunt and lifts your fingers up and out of you by your wrist to swirl his tongue around them, lick them clean. He's huge—even your third and fourth fingers weren't enough to prepare you properly for the burglar’s dick in your needy pussy, so you let out strained combinations of gasps and screams when he starts to drill into you mercilessly. You can't help the way your ankles link behind his back, the way you reach for him—and he smiles wickedly when your eyes roll back.

"You like having a stranger's cock deep in your guts, huh?" he speaks between deep sighs and grunts. You can only babble your incoherent agreement, your laptop and wallet forgotten, the actions of this man forgotten, everything but how desperately you need to squirt all over him forgotten—you reach down and rub your clit, play with your nipples as your mouth is frozen open as you moan, moan for this man who's just broken into your home. "Uh—yeah, you're gonna like takin' all my cum, too, I bet." ⊹

⊹ SIGMA—MASSEUR HELPS HIS SEXY CLIENT RELIEVE STRESS!

"Oh, yeah—right there," you groan softly as the heel of his palm meets the center of your back. You've been looking forward to this full-body massage the whole week, and this man was not disappointing.

He works his way down your back, twisting knots out as he goes—his lithe fingers feel like heaven against you, overworked from hours at your desk hunched over your computer.

But it's a full-body massage, as mentioned before; when his fingers dig into the plush of your asscheeks, you can't help the groan that leaves you.

"That okay?" he inquires; you think you hear a shake in his voice.

"More than okay," you reply, thinking you could fall asleep as he works you into relaxation. You could close your eyes from how good it feels, or you could peek behind you and see his face burning with blush at your sounds. You do the former, but smirk a little at how sweet it is of him to check in.

He checks in again when his hands are inching your underwear down, and you tell him of course, he's the professional.

He's still the professional when he climbs up on the table behind you and buries his flushed face into your cunt. You arch up and back, crooning, as his hands stay massaging you, spreading you apart, kneading your ass with career expertise and plunging his tongue into you with enthusiasm.

"Oh! Oh—feels good," you breathe, grinding back into his face, onto his nose. He laps at you happily, this masseur you've barely looked upon for a total of twenty seconds, but you can't lie to yourself and say you didn't think he was pretty when he led you back to his room; he hums into you, sending you shivering, twitching. "Please, more."

"Mhm," he mumbles, releasing one of your asscheeks to lay back beneath you and insert a long, thin finger into your pussy; you sigh, you settle onto his face, and his tongue speeds up in this new position in a way that rips a high moan from your lungs.

Not hunched, but arched, the stretch feels heavenly on your back in combination with the way he pumps another finger into you; you graciously sit up, throwing your head back, begging, pleading for more until his tongue settles into a tight back-and-forth rhythm over your clit. "Please, please, please—"

You grind against his nose, your moans become more erratic, and you dig a hand into his hair as your hips move in dizzying circles over his head.

"Cum for me?" he asks, muffled by your pussy; you'll ride him until his face is soaked. ⊹

⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY—CONFESSING MY SINS ENDS IN HUGE CUMSHOT ALL OVER MY FACE!

“And I’ve been terribly, terribly lustful, Father Fyodor,” you say with regret. “It consumes me. I really never used to be like this."

"Temptation lurks everywhere," the priest sympathizes. You can barely see him through the grate, but his soft, forgiving voice sounds close to you. "The Devil and his army are constantly exploiting our vulnerabilities to try and turn us to sin, but worry not, child of Christ; we're human. I'm here to guide you. Continue."

You shift on the wooden seat in the booth, crossing your hands tighter over your lap. "That's really all. It's been very concerning to me. I think about it... I think about it so much."

"About what?" Father Fyodor prompts, and you bristle even more at being asked to elaborate.

"Sex," it barely comes out as more than a whisper. "I can't help it—it's everywhere. It leaves me feeling so... exhausted and frustrated, and the only thing that helps is... Well..."

But you're met with silence. You know he wants you to go on. You're here to confess, after all.

"...touching myself. I do it at least once a day. It's like a burning within me—nothing helps but—but—cumming all over my fingers." Your voice is laced with shame—the throbbing of your cunt as you talk makes you feel all the more guilty, and you can only imagine how he's shaking his head. "That's all. That's all."

"You'll do penance," he says, comfortingly. "When we bring our sins to the Lord and repent he cleanses us of them."

The grate pops out of the window, and you see the the waist of his alb as he speaks his next words.

"You'll take communion, now—" the cinctures around his waist fall undone beneath his hands, and the alb is hiked up to reveal a leaking cock, pretty and pale and bobbing in the air of the confessional. "—and be saved from the flames of perdition.”

"Yes, Father, please. Anything to be saved." But your mouth waters in a way that you know has little to do with your thirst for salvation.

"Take this; eat. This is my body," he recites the scripture as his length reaches through the window; your hands, eager and already on the threshold, accept him willingly. As you wrap your mouth around him, he groans, and it's like seraphim singing their holy, holy, holy.

Desperation courses through your veins as you attempt to push your body to the limit. To run faster.

But instead, you stumble and fall, your foot catching on a jagged patch of rocks that jut out from the forest floor. The pain shoots through your ankle as you crash to the ground, your body twisting instinctively to land on your back. The breath is knocked out of you, and for a moment, the world tilts, spinning wildly. You try to push yourself up, but it’s too late—your limbs feel heavy, and dread coils in your stomach.

A dark, broad silhouette looms above you, blocking out what little light filters through the trees. Red eyes flash in the dimly lit surroundings. His long, spindly fingers stretch out, trembling with anticipation as they reach for you, closing the distance inch by inch. You can’t move,—paralyzed by the terror that seizes your heart as those fingers reach to touch you.

No.

His fingers touch your neck.

Stop.

They move lower, tender grazing your lower neck before beginning to pop the buttons that would reveal your bare chest to him.

“STOP!”

Your eyes snap open, and a scream tears from your throat. Panic surges through you as you thrash wildly, desperate to escape the burning touch and invasive presence of your captor. Your clothes cling to your skin, soaked with sweat, amplifying the feeling of suffocation. Before you can comprehend what’s happening, strong, muscular arms wrap around you, pulling you tightly into an anxious embrace.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay… you’re gonna reopen your stitches squirming like that,” he whispers, his voice strained and groggy, as though he had just been woken up. Despite his soothing tone, you continue to struggle, trying to free yourself from his hold, but his grip is firm, pressing you against his chest. His heartbeat thuds like a drum in your ear, both grounding and terrifying in its steady rhythm.

It’s only when a sharp, searing pain shoots through your arm that you freeze, a pained whine escaping your lips. The intensity of the pain forces you to stop resisting, your body going limp as you gasp for breath.

“L-let go, it hurts…” you manage to strain out, your voice trembling. At your words, his grip finally loosens, giving you a moment of relief. You glance down at your arm, where a gauze pad is tightly bandaged with near surgical precision. The once-white gauze is now stained with dark red spots, evidence that your frantic movements have aggravated the wound.

Tender hands reach out and touch one of the bloodied spots and you flinch. Something flashes in the man’s eyes at your reaction.

Sadness? No, you tell yourself.

Regret?

But just as quickly as the change came, he was back to his unreadable face.

“I’ll change it. Stay here”

He nonchalantly rolled off the bed, turning on a nearby lamp. You watch his tall figure stroll into the nearby bathroom, anxiety riddling through your head. As you listen to him open some cabinets and drawers, your gaze moves and lands on the door to the bedroom. You look back at the bathroom, trying to ponder if you should run for it while he’s still preoccupied.

“Don’t bother sweetie” Sylus calls out, as if reading your mind and predicting your antics came naturally to him now.

“I’ve had the door lock changed to a fingerprint scanner. You can’t open it now, even if you tried”

A sickening wave of defeat washes over you and you slump into the bed. Still, you wouldn’t let your pride die. There has to be other ways out. And even if there wasn’t, he would slip up eventually. There would be an opportunity and you would slip past his watchful eye before he even realized it.

Sylus emerges from the bathroom, carrying a large white box. Your body stiffens as he gets closer, your instincts making you move further away from him on the bed. He simply closes the distance, grabbing your body and pulling you into his lap as he sat down.

“Hey!” you hiss, struggling ferociously in his arms. But he simply ignores you, holding you with one arm while taking a smaller box out of his pocket. You blink, reading the label.

“Candy?” you ask, eyeing the box. It was small round, fruit flavored hard candies, similar to lemonheads. Sylus poured one in his hand, gazing back at you.

“I went out and bought this while you were unconscious” he stated, bringing the candy to your lips. “It’s your favorite. Eat this while I change your bandage, it’ll be a good distraction.”

You blink at him dumbfoundedly as he pushed the candy past your lips and into your mouth. It was a slightly tangy but mostly sweet apple flavor. You glared at Sylus as he gently started to unwrap the blood stained bandage from your arm. This couldn’t have been the same Sylus earlier that had stared down at you like a lion would a lamb, the one that had grabbed your arm roughly and-

The painful memories of the moment the glass had cut your flesh resurfaced, making you flinch and close your eyes.

“Did I hurt you?” Sylus asked calmly, seeming to have mistaken your reaction to be that of physical pain.

“Yes…” you lie. Although it wasn’t a full lie. He had hurt you earlier. And yet he had not offered a single apology. Did he think giving you candy like some upset child would suffice for slicing your arm open?

He doesn't respond, but his touch softens as he carefully unwraps the bandage from your arm. Your gaze burns with anger as you watch him remove the gauze, the memory of the earlier bloody mess still fresh in your mind. But as the last layer is peeled away, the sight surprises you. The bloody scene from before has vanished, replaced by a neat row of stitches, with only a few spots of blood clinging to the edges of the thread.

You blink dumbfoundedly at the stitches. Had he stitched you up while you were passed out? No, he didn’t seem like the type of guy to know how to do that. He must have called someone in there to do it. Would he call them back to check on it later? Maybe you could tell them your predicament and escape?

Your head is busy swimming with ideas that you don’t realize Sylus has soaked a cotton ball with hydrogen peroxide until he begins to wipe it on your stitches. You hiss in pain, attempting to move your arm away but he grabs your wrist firmly, resuming his task of cleaning up the blood on your arm. All you can do is sit on his lap, tearfully watching as he does so.

You had cleaned up your own injuries before, and never really cried while doing so. Something about this situation was just…daunting? Hypocritical. You’re completely at his mercy. The person that had caused such harm was now tenderly cleaning it up and changing the bandage. It angered you, but also made you more fearful of him. He seemed to have gone cold to caring in mere hours.

You blinked back tears as he continued to shower you with his care, unable to make a sound. The tears flowed down your cheeks finally, as you kept the candy inside your mouth, neither spitting or making an effort to swallow it.

Finally, Sylus finished wiping up all the blood on your injury, looking up to read your expression. Upon seeing your tear stained face, his gaze turned to worry. Unable to hold back, he began to caress your cheeks, not minding the way it soaked his fingers. His movements were stiff and unpracticed but he continued to do so until your face was no longer covered in tears.

“Does it still hurt?”

Sylus couldn’t help but to ask. He’d never felt so useless, so helpless before. Seeing you in pain now after his previous loss of control elicited a new emotion in him.

Guilt.

You didn’t respond immediately, the candy rolling slowly in your mouth as you considered his words. Finally, you nodded, lifting your gaze to meet his. It surprised you to see how much your tears seemed to affect him now. You’d come to realize how unpredictable he was. Sylus carefully placed a fresh piece of gauze over your injury, securing it with bandages. With nothing more to do, he set the supplies aside and gently pulled you into his arms.

You tried to resist him at first, but eventually gave in.

You continued to tear up in his arms, tongue rolling the candy around in your mouth for quite a long time. By the time you stopped crying, the front side of his sweater was completely soaked with tears.

The mere sight of your crying face brought upon a certain sorrow to Sylus. He let out a sigh, leaning his head back until all he could see was the ceiling.

He had never been this affected by a singular persons emotions. Countless times, men and women alike had begged for his mercy, and he had simply stared and laughed at them. He hadn’t cared that they were crying cause of him, much less the fact that they were crying at all. But this was different. He had inflicted a harsh punishment on you out of anger. And while he didn’t regret removing your birth control, it should’ve been done professionally and with some sort of numbing.

He was supposed to keep you from harm and yet, had harmed you himself.

He sighed again, beginning to roll out words that were foreign to him.

“I’m sorry.”

You lay there frozen against his chest as the words left his lips—an apology. Of all the things you expected from him, an apology was the very last. Your heart raced as confusion, anger, and a strange sense of disbelief mingled together. The Sylus that had sliced your arm open was not the one holding you right now. This was a different side to him, his eyes followed with regret and guilt. The sincerity in his voice caught you completely off guard and you struggle to say anything.

“You…you’re sorry?” you spat. “As if I’d ever believe that absolute bullshit”. You look straight up at him, the bitterness in your tone slices through the air like a knife. How could he possibly think to be forgiven for hurting you like that?

For even kidnapping you in the first place?? You’d honestly rather get your other arm sliced open than ever accept an apology from this man. Sylus doesn’t say anything, instead only giving you a slight smile.

He suddenly stands up from the bed, you in his arms. Your eyes widen as he turns around and gently places you on the soft mattress, confusion clouding your thoughts. Is he going to hit you? Yell at you?

You close your eyes, bracing for some kind of pain to follow next.

He pulls the comforter over your body, lightly pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“One of my men will bring you food if you wish to eat, otherwise you should sleep. I have to to get work done” he says calmly, reaching down to gather up the medical supplies from the floor. Men? There's more than one person living here? Are they just as corrupt as him?

You ponder what kind of “work” this man even does to have such a huge, lavish room in the first place. You had only seen this room and the bathroom ever since you came here, but it was clear as day that the home you were trapped in was not cheap. You watch as he puts everything back in the box, making his way towards the bedroom doors.

You say nothing as he places his fingerprint against the newly placed electronic pad where the original lock once was. It whirrs and with a click, the door opens slightly ajar. Sylus turns around to gaze at you, his look unreadable.

“Sweet dreams. I’ll see you soon.”

And with that, his tall form disappears from the doorway, door shutting behind him. For the first time in the few weeks you had been here, you were alone and alert. You started digging through the mans things almost immediately, hoping to find some kind of clue to where you were or more information on Sylus. Disappointingly, you find nothing but some very classy looking records, and various books about weaponry.

At least you won't be bored.

Hours pass as you search every inch of the room and bathroom. You even looked out the windows again, trying to catch glimpses of any strangers on the ground. No one had passed in all the time you had looked though. Seems wherever you were located, no one ever came close. You jump when you suddenly hear the mechanics of the lock whir to life, door opening soon after. In steps in two men, wearing bird masks, exactly the same height and figure. You freeze, unsure what the hell to do or say.

"Hi, miss, the boss asked us to check on you!" one of them said cheerily, carefully placing a plate on a nearby table. The aroma of freshly cooked chicken pasta wafted through the air, and your eyes were drawn to the plate. It was elegantly arranged, with tender pieces of chicken nestled in a creamy sauce atop a bed of fettuccine. You hadn’t realized how hungry you were until your stomach growled in response. Despite the tempting sight, you remained cautious, keeping your distance.

"Who are you? Do you work for Sylus?" you asked, narrowing your eyes as you sized up the two strangers.

"I'm Luke," the one on the left replied, a playful grin spreading across his face. "And this guy right here is actually my soul!" He gestured to the man beside him, his voice laced with amusement. "It can leave my body, as you can see. Impressive, right?"

The man on the right—presumably the "soul"—gave an exaggerated, goofy growl, baring his teeth and making claw gestures with his hands. His performance was so over the top that it was more comical than intimidating. The two of them burst into laughter, their camaraderie evident. You couldn't help but roll your eyes at their antics.

"This is who he has working for him? Seriously?" you muttered, a mixture of disbelief and relief washing over you. Their goofiness was a welcome contrast to the tense situation, and you found yourself lowering your guard just a little. If nothing else, they seemed harmless enough. The still-unnamed man crossed his arms, his lips curving into a pout as he tried to maintain a serious expression.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, though his voice was still tinged with laughter. "Anyway, I'm Kieran. We're actually twin brothers, in case you couldn't tell."

"I can't really tell with the masks to be honest..." you say lowly, taking small steps towards the food. "Can I see your faces?"

The two of them shake their heads, somewhat apologetically. "Its for everyone's safety that you don't know what we look like. Luke's ain't exactly got the kind of face you'd wanna look at anyways..." Kieran whispers jokingly, earning him a nudge in the stomach from his twin brother. You couldn't help but chuckle at the small joke, your guard completely down now.

"See, I got her to laugh. That's for sure worthy of a raise" Kieran said, seemingly proud of himself. You roll your eyes, finally shedding enough anxiety to come closer to the plate of food.

These two goofballs were definitely more tolerable than Sylus at least. You reach the plate of food, sitting down on the sofa to begin eating. You twirl the fork in the pasta pondering something as the twins begin to leave.

"Hey..." you call out. The men stop, turning their mask adorned faces in your direction.

"This is probably a stupid question. But you wouldn't happen to know where we're located would you?" you ask, praying they answer. They turn towards each other seeming hesitant to respond. Luke speaks up first.

"It can't hurt to mention where we're located in general, right?" he says, pressing his fingerprint against the scanner to unlock the door. You realize in that moment that any hope of convincing these two to help you escape was futile, despite their goofy demeanor. If Sylus trusted them enough to access the room where he kept his most prized possession—you—then it was clear they wouldn't betray his trust.

"We're in the N109 Zone," he casually reveals.

You accidentally drop your fork, the sound echoing in the silence as the name hits you like a bolt of lightning. Suddenly, everything clicks into place—the N109 Zone, the white hair, the sprawling mansion. Memories from work briefings surge through your mind, each one more chilling than the last: illegal protocore trading, unsolved murders, and sudden, catastrophic building explosions. One name had always been tied to these heinous acts.

You had been kidnapped by none other than the leader of Onychinus.

And it was clear he had no intention of letting you go.

Your next two weeks were spent scheming ways to escape, and avoiding Sylus at all cost. Whenever you heard the mechanical whir of the door opening, you'd dive into the bathroom and spend hours in there. He'd even began asking if you were having stomach problems. to which you had dismissed his concerns. Despite your obvious avoidance, he surprisingly seemed patient. He wouldn't force you to be near him or talk to him at all. Even when you had elected to sleep on the floor instead of the bed, he had even made you a palace of blankets and pillows on the floor for your comfort.

Of course he'd force you in his lap to change your bandages, but just as quickly as he grabbed you, he'd let you scurry off without fuss. On days he was gone, Luke and Kieran would check on you. Even asking if you wanted to play kitty cards, despite your frequent rejections. Even a mysterious mechanical bird, that seemed more human than robot, would somehow magically appear and disappear from the room at times. You didn't want to get too comfortable though. Besides, it couldn't be too much longer before you were rescued. Xavier had to be looking for you right? You have absolute faith that he was stopping at nothing to find your whereabouts.

It all confused you greatly but you had a guess of why Sylus was acting such a way. He clearly felt some level of guilt for his...outburst. It honestly felt satisfying to see him act such a way. He should feel like a piece of shit and you hoped it stayed that way.

His patience with you was running thin though, as today, when dinner arrived he didn't slide it in the bathroom door as he usually did. Instead, he put it on the table next to his food, electing to read a book while he ate. Clearly waiting for you. You tried your hardest to hold out for almost an hour, but you hadn't eaten that day and eventually succumbed to your primal desires to eat.

You cautiously approached the table, each step deliberate as you calculated how quickly you could grab the plate and make a run for it. Just as your timid fingers brushed against the edge of the plate, he closed his book with a soft thud.

"Sit," he commanded, his tone gentle but leaving no room for defiance.

Not wanting to provoke him further and risk more injuries, you quickly complied, choosing to sit at the far end of the couch. He sighed, placing the book on the table with a sense of finality.

"How long do you think you can avoid me kitten?" he asked, amusement lacing his words. Before you could respond, a familiar cold red mist began to swirl around you, pulling you closer to him with a sudden force. You let out a shriek as you were abruptly yanked into his lap, now mere inches from his face. His warm breath brushed against your cheek, and you felt an unwelcome heat rise to your face.

Why does he have to be so close…

"You're in my room, after all. Isn't it rude to ignore the host?" he murmured, his voice a mix of teasing and authority. His crimson eyes flash a hint of hunger as he looks up and down your tense figure. You shiver but try to keep your composure.

"Not if the guest doesn't want to be here in the first place," you retorted, glaring up at him with defiance. He simply chuckles, reaching over to grab the fork next your plate. He holds it up to you, teasingly.

"Go ahead. It's already getting cold," he says, leaning back slightly to watch you. You silently curse him in your mind but comply, picking up the fork. Today’s meal is a perfectly cooked salmon, drizzled with a creamy lemon and herb butter sauce. On the side, roasted asparagus is topped with fragrant garlic. Even though the food is no longer piping hot, it still looks incredibly appetizing.

You take hearty bites, trying to finish quickly so you can get off his lap. He watches you intently, his eyes tracking every movement as you chew, swallow, and lick your lips. Just as you reach for another bite, he suddenly grabs your face, turning it toward his own. Panic flares within you, and you worry that you’ve somehow angered him.

With strained eyes, you watch as he brings a finger to the corner of your mouth, wiping away a few drops of sauce that your napkin had missed. Your eyes widen in shock as he brings his finger to his lips, licking the sauce off without hesitation. A flush spreads across your face, and you start squirming to get off his lap.

"W-what's wrong with you?" you exclaim, turning your face away in embarrassment. He lets out a hearty chuckle, tightening his grip on you. Realizing there's no way to escape, you stop struggling, though you refuse to look at him, determined not to give him the satisfaction.

"Kitten, look at me," he says, his voice suddenly serious. Reluctantly, and somewhat terrified, you turn back to face him.

"Your stitches don’t hurt anymore, right?" he asks, a hint of sincerity in his tone. Confused as to why he’s asking now of all times, you simply nod. The stitches are barely visible anymore, and they no longer cause you any pain nor discomfort as they had previously.

"I'll cut to the chase then," he says calmly, his eyes locking onto yours with a seriousness that makes your blood run cold. He leans in closer, pressing a soft kiss against your neck before moving to your ear and whispering,

"You still have to give me a baby."

You nearly choke on your spit as the words register, sending a jolt of shock through you. How could you have forgotten about his obsessive desire to get you pregnant? It was the very reason he had removed your birth control, the reason you needed stitches in the first place. Your body tenses instinctively, but he only tightens his grip on you, holding you firmly in place.

"The effects of your birth control should have worn off by now," he continues, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's been out of your system for some time." Panic begins to consume you, and your breathing quickens as horrifying images of being pregnant with your captor’s child flood your mind.

"Don't run. This will be easier if you just lie down," he murmurs, his tone almost soothing, but the threat behind it is unmistakable.

"No! Let go of me! Please...!" you scream, tears streaming down your face as you kick and squirm with all your might, swinging your arms wildly in desperation. But Sylus simply sighs, standing up effortlessly with you still trapped in his arms.

It was natural for you to not want his child but this would be over faster if you just accept it. You don't even have to do anything, just spread your legs and take his seed. Was that so hard?

You scream as he approaches the bed. Acting quickly, you lean back and slam your head into his face with all your strength. The impact causes him to stumble just enough for you to break free and land on your feet. He clutches his head, reaching for you, but you dart away like a startled cat.

Trapped in a room with few options, you dive under the bed, pressing yourself into the farthest corner as you gasp for breath, your head throbbing from the blow you delivered. It doesn’t take long before you see Sylus's shoes, and his face soon appears as he peers at you from the other side. Luckily, his large, broad frame keeps him from crawling under the bed.

"Sweetie, come here."

"Go away asshole!"

"You can't run away from this y'know."

Sylus sighed, still on his knees he offered a hand to the girl hyperventilating under his bed.

"Come out while I'm still being nice" he sighed, patience thinning.

"I'll bite every single of one your fingers off if you touch me" you spat, trying even harder to squish yourself away from him. Sylus shut his eyes out of annoyance before opening them again. This girl was certainly feisty. She hadn't been fighting nearly this hard when she first got here.

Sylus lifts up the frame of the bed with ease, as if it was made of paper much to your dismay, and you scream as he grabs onto you. The struggle under the bed quickly turned into a struggle on top of it. Sylus tried to press his body into you and spread your legs but you had anticipated this. Targeting his vital points like you were taught in training, you aim for his eyes and groin.

Most of your attempts to hit him were easily blocked though. He was simply much faster and stronger than you. You let out something akin to a war cry and try to head butt him again as he leans back over you. Sylus is quick to shove you back on the bed.

"Will you please calm down?" he asked, not even out of breath or sweaty.

"No!"

"Do I need to tie your arms and legs to make you stop?"

"Do it and I'll be sure to put a bullet in your skull when I escape from here" you spat. Sylus adorned an amused grin on his face when you said this, seemingly taken aback by the threat on his life. As much as he wanted to let you know he can't actually succumb to death, now wasn't the time.

Whilst in the midst of thought, the foot that was resting on his shoulder makes contact with his face. Thankfully, Sylus's reflexes were quick and he moved out the way just in time to avoid a broken nose and a few broken teeth. Before he could recover though, you had already made your way out from under him and had lifted up a glass vase that had been sitting across the room.

He wondered why he hadn't subdued you with his evol by now. Maybe this was a lot more fun than he wanted to admit, albeit annoying. He gave you a gentle smile before climbing off the bed and making his way towards you.

"Stay back!" you scream, aiming the vase back, prepared to throw.

"Put it down sweetie, you'll hurt yourself if it shatters"

"As if! I'm not your breeding stock! First you kidnap me and then you want me to bear you a child? Fuck off!"

Sylus freezes, shocked at your words. Breeding stock? Is that what you thought he saw you as? His smile drops as he takes a few more steps towards you.

"I'm losing my patience now. Set that down before I reach the count of three."

"Fuck off prick!"

"One.."

You move towards the bathroom, taking the vase with you.

"Two.."

You simply back against the bathroom door, pondering if you should run inside but that would only further corner you. You clutch the vase even harder.

"Three."

"..."

As expected, you made no movement. Sylus sighed and made his way towards you, your body shaking and trembling in the corner like a scared kitten. He leisurely got closer, no sense of urgency in his steps.

"I don't want you to hurt yourself..."

As soon as Sylus had gotten within grabbing distance you flung the vase in his direction. He evaded it with ease, and you jumped as it shattered against the back wall, glass flying everywhere. A piece of glass ricochets towards you, slicing a bit of your arm. You clench your arm, letting out a pained whine.

Sylus looks at you with pity, brushing off a few pieces of stray glass of himself.

"See, what did I say sweetie?"

While you were clutching your arm, Sylus suddenly rushed towards you, wasting no time to throw your thrashing body over his shoulder. It was time this little cat and mouse game ended.

"No! Let me go!" you yell, hitting his back like a spoiled child. He ignores you, planting you on the bed as gently as he could.

"The Hunter's Academy certainly taught you well" he sighed, placing one hand on your chest to hold you down. With his other hand, red mist shot through, grabbing something from across the room and planting itself in his grip. Your eyes widen as you realize what it was.

Metal handcuffs.

You sob as Sylus locked the handcuffs to the head board, pinning your arms above your head. You don't even get the chance to kick your legs again as he promptly sits on top of them, pinning you further.

A tired sigh escapes his lips as he buries his face into you neck, planting soft kisses in various spots. The tears begin to pour out faster now, and unable to wipe them, you blink your eyes to try and clear your vision.

"Don't cry." Sylus murmurs gently, sitting up a bit to wipe your tears. "I promise I'll try my best to not hurt you."

Rather than bring you comfort, this only enrages you, making you sob even louder. At the very least when he had been inside you the first few times, you had been drugged out of your mind and couldn't process pain anyways. But now you have to be alert, feeling every thrust and stretch.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Sylus unbuckling his belt. You shut your eyes, not wanting to witness such a vulgar scene. You feel his weight shift off you slightly as he pulls his belt off, and shuffles with his underwear. You feel cold hands reach under the nightgown he had provided you, curling his fingers around the hem of your panties.

"Please..." you beg, eyes still closed tightly as he pulls your panties down over your hips. You press your lower half into the mattress to try and prevent him from getting them off but it was futile. He wrestled them off and you hear a soft noise as they hit the floor.

"Are you intending to keep your eyes closed the entire time?" Sylus asks, pushing up your nightgown before leaning over you. You feel the cold air of the room reach your now bare cunt and you shiver. You feel his hungry presence above you, but you still don't open your eyes.

"Don't you want to see what's going inside you, kitten?"

You stiffen, unable to tell if he's making fun of you or being sincere. Cold hands grip the sides of your face and squeeze lightly. You then feel warm and slightly wet flesh touch your trembling lips. The smell of soap and skin overwhelm your senses and while it didn't smell bad, just the mere fact that it was his scent was making you want to vomit.

Unable to take it anymore, you open your eyes, feeling the air leave your lungs as you take in the sight of his flesh. His pants are still on, but he's taken his cock out of his underwear. You had prayed that his cock was at least small but it was anything but that. It was long, girthy, and slightly red at the tip. It was throbbing, precum leaking at the tip. A drip of precum leaks from his member, landing directly on your lips.

Without thinking and as if by instinct, you lick your lips. You gasp a bit at the realization of what you've just done. A slightly salty taste dances on the tip of your tongue.

Sylus's eyes widen a bit in shock as he watches you, but his gaze is quickly replace by that of lust. He's quick to push the rest of his tip into your mouth, and you have no choice but to have it dance around your tounge. He shudders as your warm and cramped mouth embraces the head of his flesh. He hadn't explored your mouth at all yet, and while he certainly wouldn't be able to fit it all in there, what you were doing now felt perfect.

"Well well, I wasn't expecting you to be experienced..." he chuckles, huffing and groaning a bit as you continue to swirl your tongue around his tip. You weren't really, but you had seen enough of those kinds of videos to get an idea of what to do. Maybe you can get him to finish in your mouth instead of your womb? As disgusting as the idea sounded, it was definitely the better option.

Seeming to read your mind, he pulls his tip out of your mouth, breathless for the first time that entire night. As much as he would've loved to let you keep doing what you were doing, he was also wary of you deciding to use your teeth as a weapon as well.

Your forced to watch as he pulls his shirt over his head, your lips forming in a tight line as you take in the upper half off his body. His chest and stomach look like they were sculpted by the gods themselves. You feel an unwelcome heat creep on your face, and your lower half disobeys too. A tight feeling of heat rises to your core, preparing your body for intrusion.

"Staring is rude y'know..." Sylus laughs, a smug grin creeping on his face. Your about to open your mouth to curse him when you feel the tip of his cock lining up with your entrance. You try to jerk back but he firmly holds you in place. Holding your waist down with one hand while his other held his cock that was busy pushing inside you.

"Stop..."

You gasp and tense as he manages to push his head inside you. You scream, beginning to thrash again but he doesn't stop, instead ignoring you and continuing to push. He has his eyes slight closed, clearly overwhelmed with pleasure even as you squirm beneath him in pain.

"Be more like your body sweetie" he whispers, momentarily pulling his cock back so he can push into you even further. You cry out from the deep intrusion, tears swelling in your eyes again. "It knows what it wants...". You had never been so wet for him, even drugged. It felt heavenly. All his sense were being flooded by you with every inch he pushed inside and he had to hold himself back from pushing the rest in hastily.

"I can't help how my body reacts!" you cry in frustration, squirming even harder before. Your lower half feels like its on fire, and the rest of your body has begun to heat up as well. The pain is intense, as you'd never had anything this big up there before.

"Mmm.....stop moving so much" he groaned, tightening his grip on you. You momentarily freeze at the sudden increase in tightness on your waist.

"You don't want me to cum and yet your about to squeeze my cock off..." he laughs, tapping the side of your waist.

"Relax, kitten. It won't hurt for long."

Certainly not wanting him to cum faster, you try your best to relax. Its only when you do that he's able to slip inside you all the way with relative ease. As soon as his tip hits the end of your womb you whine, a hot and twisted feeling enveloping your lower half. You feel disgusted with yourself, and yet you're unable to stop filling Sylus's ear with your sweet sounds.

"Hgnh...stop..." you moaned, panting like a dog in heat at this point.

Sylus moved his other hand that was previously occupied with the task of holding his cock, to the roundness of your ass. He squeezed, hard, eliciting even more beautiful sounds from you as he pistoned his cock into you harder and harder each time.

With each thrust of his hips, it was getting harder and harder to hold back your moans. It seemed he had already mapped out the locations of your sweet spots and was purposefully ramming his tip into them. And when you suddenly clung to him, practically drawing blood from his back he knew.

He knew he had won.

"You're, ha ,doing so well sweetie" he said through breathy moans, feeling your cunt suddenly tighten around him. Your end was near and he could tell by the way your eyes flew open in horror. He was mocking you, for you were certainly not trying to do well.

Dont cum.

Don't cum!

You shut your eyes and kept chanting, for you knew that if you came, he certainly would. But at this point it was impossible with this mans cock hitting every single of of your sweet spots as if following a map.

Evidence of your excitement leaked through the tightly pressed gap between the two of you, and it overflowed.

"Just let, ugh, let go kitten" he groaned in your ear, suddenly switching his strategy of attack. He grasped both of your legs, throwing them over his shoulders. With this new angle, you felt him in deep, sharp ways that you didn't think were even possible.

Sylus was certainly not holding back. Indeed, the man’s reaction changed as you sensed your limits. His breathing became faster and irregular, the movements of his hips intensified, and his engorged cock forcefully opened your inner walls.

You clenched him even harder, feeling the peak of your high about to overflow. It wasn't until Sylus did the unexpected, that you reached your climax. He leaned down hastily, biting and sucking the hardened nubs of your breasts, and it was just the extra sensation you needed to finish.

"Mngh...Ah!"

You unwittingly clenched down on the mans cock, body shaking and trembling as you finally reach heaven. You panted, moaned and squeezed the life out of his flesh as if you wanted to devour it.

"Haa...thats my sweet girl, keep cumming sweetie"

Sylus, overwhelmed with the sensation of you squeezing him so virgously, knew he had reached his end too. He gripped the sides of your waist, quickly catching your mouth in a deep and sensual kiss as he thrusted into you hard, releasing his selfish desires as deep as they can go into your belly. Caught off guard by the kiss, you have no choice but to accept it as you finally come down from your own high.

You notice his rigorous movements cease slowly and became shallower. You stiffen as you feel something warm bury itself in your belly, moving and spreading itself around on your cervix.

"Did you just...did you..."

Sylus kisses you again, clearly satisfied. As your lips part, you let out a bloodcurdling scream.

"You ASSHOLE! You sick fucking-AHHH!" you scream, ignoring Sylus has he envelops you in another hug, your tears staining his face as he puts it against yours.

"Behave" he warns gently.

"NO! No! Get off of me!!"

You can't even hit him with your hands still cuffed above your head so you try to kick. Defeat washes over you as he pins you underneath him once more, ceasing your struggling. Your sobs ring through the room, intense feelings of disgust overwhelming you.

"Xavier...hic...Xavier..." you sob, wishing dearly that he would come bursting in through the door right now. Sylus's face darkens, and he leans in your ear as you continue to cry out the boy's name.

"Say his name in my presence again and I'll make sure to save a bullet with his name on it" he growls. You tense and whimper, the side of Sylus that had sliced open your arm now back, looming next to your ear.

"Oh-okay..." you whimper, fearing for your companions life. Sylus leans back up, moving some tear soaked hair out of your face. Despite the threat he just made, he seems happy. You watch as he removes a pillow from next to your head, positioning it under your hips.

"What are you doing...?"

"Doctor said not to move much after, and to keep your hips up" he says nonchalantly, moving your nightgown back down so you weren't cold. Shuffles off the bed, wiping the end of his dick with his shirt before standing up to retrieve something next to the bed.

"Rope..?" you whisper, watching in fear but helpless to do anything. At this point you know struggling is useless. He takes each ends of the rope and ties your ankles, fastening them to the poles at the end of the bed. He shoves an extra pillow under you for good measure that your hips will remain up.

"How long do I have to be like this?" you sniffle through your tears, shuffling your body against the uncomfortable restraints. Sylus peers down at your shaken form, clearly thinking.

"One night should do. Though its always "night" here. So until you sleep and wake up"

"How am I supposed to sleep like this??" you exclaim, staring at him in disbelief. He reaches for the bed comforter, pulling it over your body. While it did feel nice to finally escape the cool air of the room, it did little to comfort you.

"Just try please. I'm going to shower" he says nonchalantly, giving you a small kiss on your head before beginning to walk towards the bathroom. You watch him disappear into the bathroom, the sound of rushing water coming after.

You should try and sleep. Even if its just to escape the reality of your situation. You tried for all of the twenty minutes he was gone but it didn't come. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you look towards the bathroom just as he walked out, towel around his waist. He notices your open eyes looking at him and smirks.

"Sleep, kitten."

"I can't... my head hurts," you grumble, memories of the headbutt resurfacing. "I think it hurt me more than it hurt you..."

Sylus chuckles knowingly at your words as he pulls a robe from his wardrobe. When he reaches for the towel around his waist, you quickly avert your eyes, not wanting to watch him dress. Only when you hear him sit down do you glance back. He’s now absorbed in several files he’s laid out in front of him.

"What are you doing?"

"Work. Close your eyes now, sweetie," he replies without looking up, flipping to another page. With nothing else to do, you angrily shut your eyes, trying to sleep. Your body and mind are exhausted, but you can't seem to turn off your brain. Frustrated, you shoot your eyes open and glare at your captor, who reads on as if nothing else in the world matters.

"I hate you. I'll kill you," you say bluntly, turning your head away. You then hear a sigh, the rustle of a file closing, and footsteps approaching.

You don't care what punishment he might bring; at least you spoke the truth. But no punishment comes. Instead, Sylus simply lies down next to you, his warm body driving away the cold beneath the blanket. You consider squirming away but remember your limbs are tied. He snuggles closer, wrapping his arm around you.

Is he... trying to lull me to sleep?

You want to curse him, to hurl insults—so many things. But you can't deny that the warmth radiating from his body is indeed slowly lulling you to sleep. He starts stroking your hair, noticing how your eyes begin to droop and your breaths become more relaxed. Your eyes get heavier and heavier, eventually shutting completely. You're vaguely aware of him planting small kisses on your head, before succumbing completely to your dreams.

Sylus chuckles as he watches you drift into a deep slumber. He observes the gentle rise and fall of your chest, your lips slightly parted. After about ten minutes, you start muttering incoherent words. Sylus can't help but laugh at the thought that you might be dreaming about him, especially as your face contorts into a scowl. He tightens his embrace lovingly, and to his surprise, you nuzzle your face into his neck.

He loves it, even if it's only in your sleep. He studies this version of you, determined to preserve it in his memory forever. He's not the bad guy—no, he's simply doing what needs to be done. He reaches down to touch your belly, caressing it tenderly as he daydreams about the big, happy family you'll be giving him. He's waited for this all his life, to finally be surrounded in love and happiness. But most importantly...

Sylus had conquered you. Taken you and made you his. Only a few more repeated "sessions" and he would for sure plant his child in your womb, if he hadn't already done so. He didn't care if you hated him, you could hate him for the rest of your life. As long as you were by his side none of it mattered.

He certainly can't let you go now.

"I love you..." he whispered lovingly, the first confession he had ever muttered flowing into your ear.

In the distance, beyond the shadowed streets of N109, within the safe and bustling heart of Linkon City, a man with ashy-blonde hair moved quietly through your apartment, his steps deliberate and searching. The police had already swept through the place, their investigation brief and inconclusive, but Xavier wasn’t satisfied. Weeks had passed since you disappeared, and with each passing day, his concern had deepened into something far more urgent.

At first, he had tried to convince himself that you were simply avoiding him after his hasty confession of feelings—a confession that had left him vulnerable and exposed. But as the days dragged on, that explanation seemed less and less likely. You stopped showing up to work, ignored calls from everyone who tried to reach you, and left no trace of where you might have gone. Eventually, his worry overcame his sense of propriety, and he forced his way into your apartment, driven by a gnawing fear that something terrible had happened to you.

The moment he stepped inside, a chill ran down his spine. The apartment was eerily quiet, the air thick with a sense of abandonment. Only a few of your belongings were packed, haphazardly tossed into a bag as if you had left in a hurry. On the fridge, a note was pinned, claiming that you had gone to explore the country.

But Xavier knew your handwriting, and this wasn’t it.

His heart pounded as he pulled the now-crumpled note from his pocket, holding it up to the sunlight streaming through the window. The paper was cheap, the ink slightly smudged as if someone had written it quickly, with little care. This was his only clue, the only piece of evidence that hinted at what might have happened to you. He scanned the note again, hoping to find some hidden detail he had missed, but there was nothing. The words remained stubbornly cryptic, offering no real answers.

Frustration gnawed at him as he shoved the note back into his pocket. What else could he do but continue to search your place, retracing his steps in the hopes of uncovering something new? He moved through the apartment with a growing sense of desperation, his eyes scanning every corner, every crevice. The kitchen was spotless, devoid of any signs of recent use. The bedroom was neatly made, as if you had intended to return soon. But something was off—Xavier could feel it in the pit of his stomach.

Just as he was about to give up and leave, something caught his eye. Beneath the coffee table, partially hidden by the shadows, was a large, deep footprint pressed into the carpet. His breath caught in his throat as he crouched down to examine it more closely. The print was far too large to be yours, and the tread marks indicated that whoever had left it had been wearing heavy, durable shoes. This was no ordinary footprint—it was a clue, a tangible link to whoever had been in your apartment after you disappeared.

Xavier’s mind raced as he mentally cataloged the possibilities. The size and shape of the footprint suggested a man, likely tall and broad-shouldered. The depth of the print indicated weight, perhaps someone physically strong. It wouldn’t be difficult to track down the make and brand of the shoes that left this mark; Xavier had connections, resources at his disposal that most people didn’t. This was the break he had been waiting for, the first real lead in a case that had grown cold far too quickly.

A slow smile crept across his face as he stood up, determination hardening in his chest.