Aphrodite Kiss

The words hit you like a bucket of ice water.

Your unease only deepened. He knew you didn’t want children—he’d always known. From the beginning, you told him you weren’t cut out to be a mother, that if he wanted a family, he should leave while he still could. 

You had been clear: the two of you were incompatible.

But Childe had only smiled, insisting he loved you more than anything. Kids or not, he wasn’t going anywhere.

And yet lately… he’d been slipping. The way he lingered on nursery talk, the way “family” kept dripping from his tongue like honey you didn’t want to taste. Every time you reminded him, he only laughed, brushing your words aside.

“You’ll come around,” he’d say, his grin so bright it made your skin crawl.

Something about those words lodged in your chest, heavy and wrong.

-🥞-

You came home late, still in your work clothes, and found him waiting—shirtless this time, iron in one hand, your blouse folded neatly beside him. "Welcome home~"

It should’ve been sweet. It should’ve been normal.

But then he looked up at you with that gleam in his eyes, and you knew.

Minutes later, your body was bent over the couch, cheek pressed into the cushions while Childe rutted into you from behind, his grip bruising your hips. 

The couch groaned beneath the rhythm of his thrusts, the fabric slipping under your fingers as you clutched the edges for dear life.

“Nggh—so tight,” he moaned into your ear, voice ragged, every word a groan. “Fuck, baby, it’s like you’re trying to milk me already.”

You whimpered, face scrunching in discomfort as the sharp snap of latex breaking filled the room.

The condom.

Your eyes flew wide. “Ajax—oh my god—pull out!”

But he only stilled for a heartbeat, his chest shuddering against your back as the raw heat of your cunt pulsed around him. His Adam’s apple bobbed, his head fell forward with a groan.

Oh, fuck—oh, fuck

You struggled beneath him, panic rising, but his grip locked like iron. “Baby, c-can’t. Too fucking good—shit—can’t stop,” he gasped, easing his hips into you slowly, savoring every inch of bare flesh against his cock.  “I’ll buy you pills tomorrow, promise! Just… let me feel you!”

“No, Ajax, I don’t want—”

“You will.” His voice broke into a shaky laugh. “You’ll come around. You always do.”

Your body betrayed you, clenching tight, and he let out a low, broken moan. His thoughts spilled out as his thrusts grew stronger, more erratic.

“Look at you—your body already knows it belongs to me.” His voice cracked into a panting whimper. “Your womb’s empty, sweetheart. Let me fix that.”

“Gonna pump you so full it seeps out for days. Everyone will know you’re mine.”

You kicked weakly, thrashing, but he held you down with ease, lips brushing your ear as he whispered feverishly, “Tears won’t change anything, baby. Cry all you want—I’ll just kiss them away while I make you a mother.”

A laugh tore from his throat, jagged and wet with tears, even as his hips pistoned faster. “Don’t you get it? I need this. I need us. The family. The house. The kids.”

The couch shook violently under his pace, every thrust shoving you deeper into the cushions. Sweat dripped from his temple onto your bare back, his breathing uneven, desperate, manic.

And that’s when you realized with horror: this wasn’t an accident. He’d planned this.

He was actually trying to get you pregnant.

“Five kids minimum,” he choked out between sobs and gasps. “Ten if you can handle it. Sweet cheeks, don’t worry—I’ll take such good care of you. That’s what your hubby is for, right?"

He spread your legs wider, fucking into you with a feverish rhythm, sweat dripping from his brow. 

His pupils had blown wide, heart-shaped and glossy, drooling euphoria as his hips clapped against yours. 

You arched under him, tears streaking down your cheeks, shaking your head—but he only kissed the salt off your skin, murmuring against your lips.

“Shhh… so pretty… you’ll look so fucking perfect swollen with my child.”

His voice broke into a ragged scream as he buried himself to the hilt, clutching your hands tight while hot ropes of cum painted your womb white.

“One more,” he panted, eyes wild and glassy. “S’more… one… one more time.”

His words slurred with desperation, and though you sobbed and screamed no, he didn’t hear you—or maybe he didn’t want to.

The hours blurred together. Again and again, he used you, stuffing you full until your thighs and the cushions beneath were drenched with his seed. 

Your pussy clenched helplessly, overflowing each time he pulled out only to drive back in, cock glistening with a mix of cum and slick.

“AJAX!—AH!—SLOW DOWN!” you choked out, voice breaking as the couch squealed under your weight, the fabric sticky with the mess dripping out of you.

He only groaned, eyes rolling back. “Ngh—gonna breed you—gonna cum so fuckin’ hard in this tight pussy. Archons—won’t stop till it takes.” His hips snapped deeper, cum spurting in hot waves as he trembled above you, panting, sweaty, high on the thought of you, round with his child.

Your body shook beneath him, tears soaking the cushions.

But Childe only pressed his lips to your temple, breathless and soft, as though you hadn’t just been broken down under him.

“Mm… Ajax Jr., if it’s a boy. Y/n if it’s a girl.” He hummed sweetly, cuddling you against his chest like a man in love, while you lay half-dead, body leaking from his hours-long assault.

By morning, he’s already on top of you again preparing the next breeding session.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he hovered over your tired form, smiling like nothing was wrong. 

“You’ll thank me once you’re pregnant.♡”

🥞 NEUVILLETTE — The Dutiful Hubby:

Neuvillette stood in the bathroom, sleeves rolled up, carefully wringing out a cloth.

A porcelain basin sat waiting on the counter, filled with steaming water that smelled faintly of lavender. Fresh towels were stacked neatly, a change of clothes folded beside them.

He had been preparing for you.

His pale eyes lifted as the melusines dropped you off, locking onto your crumpled form on the floor. A faint frown tugged at his lips, though his voice when he spoke was soft, gentle, almost reverent.

“You’re home,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. “Why did you leave? Look at you—you’re shaking.”

He placed the cloth aside, hands steady, movements deliberate. Too deliberate. The calm of a man fighting something far more feral under the surface.

“Come. I’ll clean you up.”

His overprotectiveness was suffocating—his shadow followed you everywhere, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

But Neuvillette didn’t see it that way. To him, serving you was his sacred duty. A duty that was non-negotiable, all-consuming.

It wasn’t about what you wanted. It was about what he believed you needed.

When you escaped, he broke. Fontaine bore the weight of his grief in days of endless rain, waterlogged streets echoing his despair. 

He kept asking himself why. 

Why wasn’t he enough? 

Hasn’t he given you everything?

His human heart whispered that he had failed you. But the dragon inside him—hungry, restless—roared things he dared not speak aloud.

She is weak without me. She cannot live without me. 

Her blood calls to me—proof she is fertile, proof she must be claimed. Her pain is mine to ease. 

Her body is mine to mend. Her womb is mine to fill.

The thoughts shamed him, horrified him. And yet they thrilled him. 

You crumpled with a sharp gasp as a cramp seized your body, curling into yourself on the floor. 

His eyes softened immediately. The sight of you trembling, tears spilling down your cheeks, cut him open.

“Beloved…” he whispered, taking a hesitant step closer. His composure cracked—this wasn’t control anymore, it was instinct. 

His dragon side thrashed, urging him to scoop you up, to bury his face between your legs, to drink, to heal, to breed. 

Your whimpers only deepened the fracture in his restraint. 

He should punish you for your defiance—for the way you hurt him when you ran. 

But his chest ached at the very thought. How could he punish the only soul who mattered?

His voice cracked, low and desperate, as though the words themselves might break him.

“I swore to protect you. To serve you. Even from yourself.”

He abandoned the towel in his hand, wet and crumpled, and walked closer, but when you scrambled away, panic flashing in your eyes, his heart shattered.

The rain outside tapped harder against the window, mimicking the tears gathering in his own lashes as he reached for you, apology spilling from him in a torrent.

“Don’t—don’t look at me like that. Please,” he begged, kneeling, hands trembling though his voice tried to steady itself. “I would never harm you. You are my purpose. My sanctity. My… wife.”

For a moment, you almost believed him. Almost.

Then his breath hitched. His eyes darkened, glowing faintly, and before you could recoil, his body surged forward—pinning you flat against the fluffy mat.

“Where would you even go, my love?” His tone was low, trembling between anguish and hunger. “You cannot run from me. Not when your pain calls to me. Not when your blood cries out for my touch.”

His eyes flickered wildly—purple one moment, glowing feral the next—as he hovered above you, trembling hands cupping your face. “Forgive me,” he whispered, even as his cock strained thick and swollen against his trousers. 

Your squirming only made it worse, the friction dragging a strangled groan from his throat.

“Ngh—stop—d-don’t move like that—” His restraint shattered.

With a guttural growl, his mouth slammed against your neck, teeth piercing flesh. You cried out as hot blood welled, only for his tongue to lap at the mess greedily, desperate, reverent. 

He rutted against you on the bathroom tiles, curses breaking past his lips in ragged bursts.“I swore to protect you… but—hngh!—you make me… lose myself.”

In one brutal motion, he shoved your legs up to your shoulders, splitting you open beneath his broad weight. 

His cock—longer, thicker, crueler than you thought possible—slid against your folds before forcing its way inside.

Ouch.Your poor coochie...

The stretch burned, your scream muffled by his feverish kiss.

“Ahhh—beloved,” he moaned, voice breaking into something almost bestial. “Tight—so perfect—my wife, my mate, my duty.” His hips slammed forward, dragon strength snapping the porcelain edge of the tub as he braced himself, claws digging into the tile.

Your nails raked at his chest, weak pushes against his relentless weight. “Y-you’re insane! N-neuvi—, ah! stop!”

He only trembled, tears gathering in his lashes as his cock drove deeper, wetter, messier with every thrust. 

Blood smeared across the clean floor where his knees dragged, your breasts bouncing violently with each snap of his hips.

“A-apologies—but this is mercy,” he choked, fucking harder, voice breaking into a roar that shook the walls. “Sex will soothe your pain—fill your womb—make you whole again. Don’t you see? I am serving you. I am a good mate. I am—yours.”

The storm outside raged louder, wind rattling the panes, rain pounding in sheets as though Fontaine itself screamed with you.

Overstimulation blurred into delirium—your body trembling, clenching, convulsing as he ground his hips deeper, chasing the heat that consumed him. His voice cracked, rambling feverishly against your ear.

“Don’t leave me. Don’t ever leave me. Without you, hah… I am nothing. W-with you—I am complete.”

His body shuddered violently, cock twitching deep inside as he came hard, pumping thick, scalding loads into your battered cunt until it leaked back down his shaft and onto the tiles. 

He buried his face against your throat, sobbing and whispering apologies as his hips jerked through the aftershocks.

When it was over, he carried you—limp, shaking—to the porcelain tub. He sat you inside gently, turning on the warm water, his hands washing blood and cum from your skin with painstaking tenderness.

As though the cracks in the tile, the bruises on your body, the storm outside didn’t exist.

“There,” he murmured, pressing a trembling kiss to your temple as he wrung out the lavender cloth. “Clean. Safe. Mine.”

He tucked a towel around your shoulders, humming softly like nothing had happened at all.

🥞 VARKA — The Golden Retriever Hubby:

He screwed up. Bad.

Pacing the living room in a frilly red set of lace that clung awkwardly to his big frame, Varka dragged a hand through his blonde hair, muttering to himself. 

Usually, this man was happy, mischievous, and almost puppy-like in nature. 

But right now? 

He was spiraling.

Varka followed you to work.

 Made a scene. 

Got you fired. 

His excuse?—“You’re working too much!”—rang hollow even to his own ears. 

The truth was obvious: he didn’t want you leaving the house anymore. 

“She’ll forgive me,” he whispered, nodding to himself as if that would make it true. “I’ll show her I can be good.”

From your seat at the table, your heart pounded. He cooed over his “special surprise,” humming sweetly while arranging something out of sight. 

His voice carried the same playful tone as always, but your gut twisted. 

You weren’t tied down this time, yet something in your bones told you not to test him.

After all, he wasn’t just some lovesick fool. He’d once been a military commander. 

A scar along his neck still reminded you of that past—the part of him you’d rather not see wake up again.

When he finally turned around, the sight made you choke on your spit.

His cock, massive and heavy, stood hard against the delicate lingerie, veins prominent, the tip smeared with a swirl of whipped cream. He grinned at you with hearts in his eyes, voice rough but giddy.

“Look, sweetheart,” he breathed, presenting himself like an offering. “Something sweet… just for you. C’mon, don’t be shy. Husbands are supposed to spoil their wives.”

He set himself on the table right in front of you, laughing breathlessly, his chest heaving. The lace strained over his broad body comically, obscenely.

“Don’t make me beg, baby,” he crooned, stroking himself slowly, the cream smearing messily down his shaft. “You know I’d do anything for you. Just… show me you still love me.”

Your stomach dropped. Like hell you were putting that monstrous thing down your throat. 

But the way his gaze locked on you—wild, pleading, dangerous—you realized the answer didn’t really matter.

“Pleaseeeee, baby,” he whined, his big frame trembling as he leaned closer, voice almost breaking. “Don’t make me beg on my knees. Just… just one taste. I need it. I need you. Say ah~”

You scrunched your face, lips pressed tight, disgust written all over you. He pouted, eyes wide, almost pitiful.

Then—suddenly—his hand clamped over your jaw, prying it open, and before you could resist, his cock was forcing its way down, heavy and thick, hitting the back of your throat in one brutal thrust.

“Fuhhhck, yes,” he groaned, head tipping back, pupils glowing and forming into frantic heart shapes. Drool ran from the corner of his mouth as he panted, chest heaving. “Been n-needing this. Don’t—don’t move. Just stay like that—ah, shit—so warm.”

You gagged and sputtered, nails digging into the table, trying to pull back, but his grip locked tight around your skull with terrifying strength. 

His lidded eyes burned down at you, spit dripping from his lips onto your face as his hips began to snap forward.

“Don’t move, that’s… ah, f-fuck!” His voice cracked into a growl, sliding into something darker, something closer to the commander he once was. “Take it. That’s an order.”

Tears welled in your eyes as his cock battered into the depths of your gullet, each thrust violent, forcing you to choke and gag.

“Ahhh—Archons, I love you. I love you so much, baby—don’t you get it? You’re mine.” His voice wavered, breaking into desperate whimpers. “Can’t lose you. Not again. Never again.”

The table rattled under his force, your legs scraping helplessly against the floor as he used you like a cocksleeve.

He leaned harder into it, eyes rolling back, confession spilling out between ragged moans. “Quit everything—quit my job—couldn’t stand being away. SHIT!, tried to hold back, I really did, but it just got worse, baby, worse and worse. And then you—oh god, you started pulling away—”

He slammed into your throat brutally, his heavy balls smacking against your chin.

“Take it! Take it all, ahhh—so pretty like this. a—dorable little wife with her mouth stuffed full—what else do you even need?!”

Your jaw throbbed, aching from the stretch, but he didn’t notice—too far gone, rutting into your face like he’d die without it. 

His manic grin split wider, laughter bubbling up as his voice cracked.

“Got you fired, yeah. Heh—fuck it—couldn’t let you go back there. Couldn’t let them see you smile. You’re mine. My girl. My everything. You loved me before—why’s it so hard now?”

The table rocked violently as his thrusts grew savage, holding your head flush against him, muffling your cries into the thick girth, stretching your airway.

“Please, please, please, please!” he begged, voice desperate, unhinged. “Love me! Just—just love me back!”

Your vision swam, pain radiating through your neck as he held you in place, rutting faster, each thrust deeper than the last.

“You don’t need the outside world,” he growled, spit flying as he pounded harder. “You don’t need friends. Don’t need a job. Don’t need a future. You don’t need anything. Just this. Just me!”

Another brutal snap of his hips, forcing your throat to convulse around him.

“Everything you need is right here—with your pretty mouth choking on my cock where it belongs.”

His thrusts grew sloppy, frantic, the table shaking under the weight of him rutting into your face. His voice cracked into ragged moans, babbling between sobs and laughter.

“Nghh!—ahh!, cumming!—gonna give you everything—fill you till you can’t breathe without me!—”

With one last brutal shove, he buried himself to the base, cock twitching violently as hot streams of cum flooded your gullet.

You gagged, choking, your stomach twisting from the overload.

You sputtered, gagging so hard you puked, sticky streams of cum spilling back out onto your lips and chin, flowing out your nose.

Varka only cooed lovingly, cupping your sweaty face, kissing your forehead tenderly. “Ohh, look at you, baby. Good girl. Such a good girl for me. Ate so well, didn’t you? I just fed you your dinner, hm? My perfect wife.”

You were shaking, vision swimming, an existential dread curling in your chest.

Oblivious to your crisis he pulled you up into his massive arms, wrapping you in a bone-crushing hug. He peppered sloppy smooches all over your face—your cheeks, your temple, even your tearstained mouth.

“I’ll take care of you forever,” he whispered, rocking you like you were fragile. “No bosses, no one to hurt you. Just my special meals. They don’t deserve you. You’re mine. You’re ours.”

His grin widened as he licked your face, manic devotion glowing in his dark blue eyes.

“I’ve got plenty of money anyway. We don’t need anyone else. Isn’t this the best life you could ask for? Isn’t your husband the best? ♡”

He kissed you again, tasting the mix of salt, spit, and cum on your lips, humming happily to himself. 

🥞 WRIOTHESLEY — The “Provider” Hubby:

The smell of pancakes drifted through the house, sweet and buttery, almost enough to mask the muffled screams still echoing from the bedroom.

Wriothesley stood in the kitchen in nothing but a pair of black briefs, humming under his breath as he flipped a pancake with practiced ease.

Calm. Collected. Like he hadn’t spent the entire night breaking you down.

He poured tea, settled into a chair, and chuckled to himself as he scrolled lazily through his phone. “Mm. Wore her out good,” he muttered, smirking into the steam before taking a slow sip.

When breakfast was ready, he arranged everything neatly on a tray, even added a little folded napkin for flair, then padded down the hall.

The door creaked open to reveal you bound to the bedpost, wrists cuffed, mouth gagged, eyes burning holes into him.

“Morning, sunshine,” he drawled.

He set the tray on the nightstand, sat on the edge of the bed, and cooed, squishing your cheeks. 

His grin widened when you tried to kick him. Catching your ankle effortlessly, he tsked like you were a misbehaving child.

“Still mad at me?” he teased, icy eyes glinting as he plucked the gag from your mouth.

The first thing you did was spit in his face.

Wriothesley only laughed, low and warm, wiping his cheek with the napkin meant for your breakfast. “Feisty. Cute.”

He scooped up a spoonful of pancakes, brought it to your lips. 

You turned your head. 

He sighed dramatically, popped the bite into his own mouth, chewed slowly, then leaned in and kissed you, forcing the food past your lips.

“Swallow.”

Disgusting

You choked, but obeyed. His grin softened. “Good girl.~”

He fed you another bite, voice calm, casual, like he was making small talk over morning tea. “You really shouldn’t have run. And you really shouldn’t have thought she could hide you, hm?” 

Another spoonful, gently pressed to your lips. “She’s dead now. You don’t have to worry about her anymore.”

Your stomach twisted, but before you could speak, his tone shifted—quieter, lower, almost sulking. 

His thumb brushed your cheek, his expression oddly boyish, almost pouty, despite the steel in his grip.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured, eyes locking with yours. “You know I only do this because I love you. Because no one else can.”

“Our son needs his mother to be happy. Don’t make him think he’s the reason you cry.”

“Yeah? You’re the fucking reason!”

He only scoffed, shaking his head like you were being dramatic. 

A warm palm cupped your cheek, deceptively tender. “If you just relax, I’ll take care of everything. No bills. No stress. No… freedom to ruin yourself.”

“YOU ASS—”

The words choked off when he shoved a piece of pancake into your mouth, syrup dribbling down your chin. 

He leaned in, tongue dragging up the sticky trail, humming like it was his favorite flavor.

“Mm. Sweetheart, even your anger tastes good.”

He pulled out his phone, camera light flicking on. Your eyes went wide.

“Don’t look at me like that. Smile for the camera, sweetheart. Let’s make a memory.~”

The lens lingered on your face as you turned away. His voice dropped, tone silkier now. “Not cooperating? Then I’ll just record something better.”

The mattress dipped as he climbed over you, settling the tray aside. Flipping you on your knees, the cuffs tightening around your wrists. 

His lips brushed your cheek as his free hand slipped between your thighs, fingers prying you open.

“You’ll let me feed you breakfast, but not let me feed this greedy little cunt?” His chuckle vibrated against your ear. “You’re not very consistent, hm?”

The first press of his cock against your slit made you jolt against the cuffs. He only murmured soothingly, angling the phone so the camera caught your trembling body stretched beneath him.

“Shhh… don’t fight. You look so much cuter when you accept it.”

His hips rocked into you slowly, deliberately, letting you feel every inch. The sound of your slick was obscene, mixing with the faint hum of him recording.

“That’s it. Arch for me.” He landed a sharp spank across your ass, the camera catching the way your skin rippled and reddened under his palm. 

“Perfect. Again.”

Another slap, harder, timed with a deeper thrust.

“Answer me, sweetheart,” he cooed, filming the jiggle of your ass as he slammed into you. “Who provides for you? Who keeps you safe?”

You whimpered, vision hazy, words slurring incoherent.

SMACK.

“Wrong answer.”

His hand slid to your throat, squeezing just enough to cut off your protest as his thrusts grew sharper. 

He leaned close, voice breaking into a low groan.“You can’t escape me. Not when we’ve got him—our boy—tying us together. You’ll always come back. Because you’re mine. Because you’re the perfect wife.”

Your body jolted with every snap of his hips, the camera capturing it all—the spit dripping from your lips, the tears on your cheeks, the way your ass reddened under his palm.

“Say it,” he panted, cock twitching deep inside you. “Say I’m- ngh! T-the only one you need. The only husband you’ll ever have.”

When you sputtered another curse, his groan turned guttural, his hips snapping rougher, his voice breaking.

“Shit!– you don't get it. I am everything. Provider. Protector. Husband. Father. You don’t need the world. You j-just need me.”

He came with a loud, unrestrained moan, burying himself to the hilt, grinding to keep every drop inside. 

The camera caught his trembling body over yours, his hand tight around your throat as he whispered, almost tender:

“Hah…ah….mm…You get good dick. You get a good life. Why would you leave?”

When he pulled out, you flopped into the sheets, body ruined, wrists raw from the cuffs. 

He only kissed your temple, tucking the blanket neatly around you. “Mm, we should play cops and robbers next time.~” He saved the video, definitely using it to get off to later. 

“Rest up. I’ll bring lunch later.”

The sound of him humming drifted back as he walked out, the clatter of dishes and running water echoing from the kitchen, replaying the video on speaker.

a/n: 0/10 don't recommend. Divorce, they assess. But they would prolly burn the papers anyway, fun fact childe's piece is a personal fear of mines. 🫩

♡ 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 ♡

His cock slides hot and heavy over your tongue, and the startled glkh!— that bursts out of you only makes his grin sharpen.

"There she is," he says, voice bright and almost clinical. "I gave you three opportunities to stop before it got to this point. You picked this."

You barely manage a sputter before he adjusts the collar again—SNAP!—tightening it to borderline cut off airflow.

His expression doesn't go cold so much as settle — as if he's arrived somewhere he expected to be. You glare up at him on instinct.

Heizou’s eyes lit up like you’d handed him a present.

"Oh, still brave," he murmurs, thumb brushing your lower lip with idle curiosity, like he's noting it down somewhere. "Predictable, but brave. Don't use your teeth, sweetheart. I already know you're thinking about it."

You don’t get to protest.

Before he slams his hips upward, seating himself deeper in your throat so fast your nose hits his skin. His cock nudges a place you're not ready for, your throat seizing around him as your vision spots.

glk!- glkh- glk 

Breath stuttering, lashes fluttering as he watches your throat struggle around him.

"T-there it is," he sighs, pleased in that infuriating, already-knew-it way he has. "Much more honest than whatever smart little comment you… were... hah… about to make. I clocked the exact wording, by the way. Would've been a good one."

You dig your nails into his thighs hard, a silent ‘go fuck yourself.’

The sound you make next — a humiliating, involuntary little choke — made you cringe… and him lose composure entirely.

Making Heizou moaned loudly, head tipping back, a low breathless "Ah–!" slipping out before he could catch it, olive eyes fluttering like your defiance knocked something loose in his chest he hadn't accounted for.

First thing he hadn't accounted for.

He stares back down at you, something flickering in his expression — recalculating. Then that grin returns, slower this time. More interested.

"Hm." His thumb drags your lip down, watching the spit string between skin. "You keep doing things I don't predict. Do you know how rare that is?"

Loosening the collar just enough for you to gasp—wrong move. Your pride flares, and you try to snap back, but all that comes out is a vibration against his cock, a choked mmph! that makes his hips jerk.

"Look at you," he says, catching a tear you didn't realize had fallen, holding it on his thumb like it's a clue. "Still fighting. Still dripping. And you think I can't tell which one you're more embarrassed about."

Then he's guiding your head back down—slow, but not merciful—letting his cock drag over every tender inch of your tongue while he keeps watching.

slrp!—mmph!—glk!

He follows the tremor in your thighs like a bloodhound.

Watches them press together, you pretending it's not happening. He clocked the exact moment your hips gave the smallest, traitorous twitch toward him.

"There it is.." quietly, to himself more than you, "You know~," he continues, tilting his head, "I wasn't planning to use more than one hand today. But you're so full of-” Then something warm slides between your knees. “-surprises.”

His foot.

The arch nudges your thighs apart, slow and so casual — like it's the obvious next logical step — exposing your soaked underwear to the cool air.

“Hm?” he coos, voice all faux-gentle mockery. "You're already this wet, and we're barely into the hypothesis." 

His thumb traces idle circles on the leather strap. "Your body keeps contradicting itself. That's going to be a problem for you."

You try to shake your head — trembling, furious denial — but the collar stops the motion dead. His foot presses in, slow and deliberate, rubbing just enough friction against your panties to make your breath stutter out through your nose.

"You look furious," Heizou observes, voice soft with something worse than mockery — genuine fascination. "You should see your own face right now. You're trying so hard."

Foot rubbing in that same terrifying precision he puts into everything — deliberate circles right against your soaked panties. The pressure is perfect — teasing your swollen clit through the thin fabric while his cock stays buried deep in your throat.

"Every single time I discipline you," shaft still buried deep in your throat, foot working you toward something you're desperately trying not to give him, "your body does this. I've noted it. I have a very thorough record."

You try to grumble around him, but it only comes out as a wet, vibrating mmph that makes his length twitch on your tongue. 

Heizou chuckles, low and delighted.

“Oh? You like that?” His foot moves faster, rubbing firm strokes up and down your dripping slit, toes curling to press right against your clit. “Look at you… trying so badly to glare at me while your pussy’s grinding against my foot like a desperate little whore.” 

The combination is too much.

Your moan vibrates wildly around his length as your orgasm crashes through you — humiliating, what's worse is that he doesn't even look surprised.

"Mhm." He watches you shake apart with the quiet satisfaction of someone whose theory was confirmed exactly on schedule. "Right on time."

Not giving you a second to recover, his hips chase his own high with the same focused efficiency he does everything else, collar keeping you exactly where the evidence requires you to be.

With a low, unraveling moan — the least composed sound he's made all night — Heizou buries himself deep and cums.

He holds you through every pulse, breathing hard, that careful control finally fraying at the edges.

When he finally pulls back, thumb smearing across your swollen lip, he looks down at you with something that isn't quite the grin from earlier.

More like the face he makes when he's solved something that actually took effort.

"Good girl." Soft. Sincere, almost. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead — unhurried, like punctuation. "You know what the most interesting part of all of this is?"

Oh god

He tilts your chin up. "You already know exactly why you keep ending up here. You just haven't admitted it to yourself yet."

Grinning, eyeing your trembling form. "I'll wait. I'm patient. I already know the answer."

He gives the collar one last gentle tug.

"Knick-knack.~"

🐊 KAZUHA — W.T.F.

“K-KAZUHA WHAT T-THE FUCKKK!—”

Your voice cracks–as he slams into you, deep-deep-deep, the force of it yanking your silk-bound wrists taut against the beam above. The ropes creak as your spine arches.

And Kazuha just watches, amber eyes half-lidded, like he’s admiring the way your body jolts with every thrust.

Fingers cave into your hips, digging past the surface, marking you obsessively. He drives home with a smoothness that shouldn't be this brutal, each roll of his body a new lesson in how much you can endure.

One thrust.

Two.

Counting the hitches in your chest, timing his pace to the exact second your breath fails you.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers, voice soft as a lullaby. His hips snap forward—hard—and your gasp catches high in your chest, stuck.

“Is it the bindings?...” His thumb strokes your inner thigh, gently. “Or losing your Vision?” 

He says it with a terrifying ease. He’d turned that stolen glass over in his palm earlier, eyes wide and worshiping, before tying you open and filling you. 

Your body bounces with every stroke, helpless. “Hahh—!” spills out when he drags you down harder, his grip tightening, fingertips pressing deep enough to leave marks.

The pace picks up—smooth, controlled, relentless—like he’s chasing the sound of your breath shattering. 

Plap! Plap! Plap!

The wet smack of skin on skin echoes across the water, obscene.

“Easy…” his breath is a warm ghost against your skin, but his weight is a solid, punishing reality stretching you open. “You keep tightening around me like this—”

A particularly vicious thrust punches the air straight out of your lungs, leaving you hollow. “—I might think you enjoy it.”

“I DON’T—” The words snap out, hot and immediate, but they lose their edge halfway.

Something is failing in the back of your skull. Your thoughts are sluggish, stalling, sinking into a gray fog.

Behind him, the box pulses with a weak, dying rhythm—your Pyro Vision guttering out, its fire turning to ash. You wrench your eyes away because the sight of your own fading ambition is a physical ache.

Kazuha grinds into you, a slow, cruel pressure right where your nerves are rawest, before driving up with a sudden, jarring force. 

“Nghh—FUCK—!” It spills out, unbidden. Kazuha just exhales a quiet laugh against your cheek.

You hate the scent of him—cedar and salt air.

Hate the softness of his hair, untouched by the violence of his hips.

Most of all, you hate the memory of the same hand currently bruising your hip, tucking a blanket around your shoulders this morning.

You were something precious then. 

Now, you’re just a prize.

The hate is there, but it’s slipping through your fingers, dissolving into the void where your Vision used to be.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice a low vibration in your ear as he thrusts deeper. Schlk…schlk…schlk filling you sends a forced heat racing up your spine. “-my songbird is one of a kind~.”

“KAZUHA I SWEAR TO ARCHONS-” But your voice cracks. The fury is a cavernous gap, feeling emptier by the second.

Another brutal snap of his hips makes your back arch, the beam above you groaning under the strain.

“I thought you’d want it like this,” puzzled, a quiet, private observation. He pouts—a look of pure, confused innocence—while his thumb traces a slow, heavy line up your clit. “You said I was always too soft.”

His shaft pulsed a deliberate, agonizing hesitation just to watch you squirm. 

“So I figured…” Another thrust, deeper, meaner. “…you’d like it rough.”

You try to muster up the strength to glare holes into him, but you could only whimper in despair at the effects of not having your vision increase.

Kazuha tilts his head slightly, watching the way your wrists strain against the ropes like you’re testing whether the knots might suddenly grow merciful.

“I’m sorry,” voice dropping, quieter. Almost apologetic, “it has to be like this.” 

The sorrow in his eyes is real. Genuine.

It changes absolutely nothing about the pace of his hips.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, chest heaving as he adjusts his grip — one hand sliding up your thigh, pushing your leg higher, spreading you wider.

You can feel it…the hollowness spreads slowly through your limbs like something being gently, methodically unplugged.

"Kaz..." Your voice comes out smaller than you want it to. "Kazuha, you said…hah y-you always said–"

"I know what I said." He says it softly, watching your face with that unbearable attentiveness, like he's memorizing something. "I meant it. Every word." 

His hips roll forward, slow and thorough, and the sound that escapes you isn't angry at all. "I still mean it." 

"Tch then why–" 

"Because–" and here his composure cracks, "you were gunna to leave n' not come back- heh." fingers fondling your nipple, making you arch just perfectly into him as he pumps his thickened inches through every peak. 

"And- I found," he continues, breathless now, white hair falling across his face as he drives deeper, "that I believe in your freedom–" thrust "completely–" thrust "except for that." 

The boat sways, adding more force to his thrusts.

He chuckles darkly to himself, a tone you've never heard before. He swirls n' swirls his globular tip, the perfect rounded shape to press into your nerves. 

And somewhere in the growing heaviness behind your eyes, you're realizing horribly, humiliatingly... that your hips have started moving back to meet him. 

Kazuha notices it, his eyes going soft, reaching up to cup your cheek with a gentleness that has absolutely no friggin business being here right now. 

"See?" like he's been waiting this whole time to say it. "Isn't this better than leaving?" 

You don't answer, you can't tell anymore if the withdrawal is talking or something worse. 

He angled slightly – deeper, more deliberate – and your whole body lurches forward with it, the ropes catching you, swinging you right back onto him.

Sloppy sounds fill up the whole cabin until there's no room for anything else. Including your thoughts. 

They keep arriving slower now, holding more weight, and you're not sure if you can keep holding onto hate anymore. 

Or even remember why you were so upset in the first place.

He feels it immediately – the shift in you. Kazuha has always been terrifyingly good at reading things.

Wind.

Weather...The exact moment you're about to stop denying him. 

"Ah-" You gasp- he grinds into your poor, bruised g-spot. "I-i… m’still f-fuckin’ angryy–" 

"Of course," kissing up your neck, he inhaled deeply, smiling against you, "You're allowed to be." 

"That's not-" A whine punches out of you when he rolls his hips just so. "That's not what I– ngh– t-that's not the point!—" 

"Then what is my love?"

And you open your mouth to tell him. You have the answer…you know you do, it was right there a moment ago, something about how wrong this is, something about him taking your vision, something about how this isn't what you wanted. 

His shaft drags slowww and thoroughly across that spot inside you, and every single word dissolves. 

"Hm~?" Kazuha waits expectantly as the thoughts leave your face, morphing into something that isn't guilt anymore.

"It's alright." He presses a kiss to your temple. "You don't have to say it." 

…He's already decided, somewhere in that poetic, completely unwell little heart of his, that this is love. That this is the right thing, that you'll understand eventually. 

"Fuhck- ah! Kazu—" hips rolling back to meet him before you even register doing it—He shivers a single tremor moving through that carefully composed body, his breath catching audibly.

His rhythm stutters for just a fraction of a second. And then it happens — the thing he's been holding back since he tied you in the boats for days now.

"Y-you feel—" He stops, then tries again. "You feel so—" he really can't finish it. 

Those eyes have gone somewhere glassy and distant — still looking at you, but seeing something past the surface of you, something he's been navigating toward for a very long time-

Both arms wrapping around you, silk ropes and all, folding you into him like something he's been holding in his hands for years and is only now allowing himself to keep.

His cock pulses deep. His breath comes apart completely. 

"Don't leave," he moans into your hair, and it’s not a request or a command either. He’s already made up his mind and refuses to be argued with. “Don't leave. Don't leave. Don't—" 

Your mouth falls slack, and you bring what little energy you have to bite into your fist as you scream, cumming all over his shaft.

Your walls clenching around him, as a sound slipped out, one you're sure you’ll be embarrassed about later. 

Kazuha grunts, a hand jumping to his mouth, trying not to be loud.

Juices connecting you two, losing the careful rhythm entirely, and then he's shuddering against you, spilling deep, face buried in your neck, lips moving against your skin in something that might be your name or might be an unhinged poem or both. 

Your vision flickers once behind him…going out. 

…

The boat rocks gently in the silence that follows, his arms wrapped around you, holding you softly.

After a long moment, you hear him sigh. 

"Im sorry..." A pause. "I just thought this was kinder."

🐊 KINICH — Got his lick back

SMACK!

"AH—!"

The sharp crack of his palm against your ass echoes through the room like a hunter’s whip. 

Your cry breaks out raw and humiliating, but Kinich doesn’t give you a second to breathe. His hand stays glued to the stinging flesh, squeezing hard enough to feel the heat bloom under his fingers while his other hand slides between your slick thighs.

“Spread.” Flat. Commanding. No room for argument.

You don’t.

So he forces you anyway — two fingers pushing past your dripping folds, stretching you open with that terrifying precision, curling right against the soft, spongy spot that makes your vision spark white.

The second your hips jerk forward to escape, his fist locks into your hair and yanks you right back onto his lap like a leash.

“Already this wet?” A low, almost thoughtful hum leaves him as he pulls his fingers free.

A thick, glossy string of your slick stretches between your hole and his fingertip, catching the low light.

“Running again… but your pussy keeps begging me to stay.”

You try to snap something back — anything — but he’s already lining up. The flared, swollen head of his cock nudges against your entrance once, twice, then pushes in with one merciless slide that steals every word from your throat.

“F-fuck- Kinich-!”

He bottoms out in one smooth glide, stretching you wide around his thick length until you feel him pressing right against the entrance of your womb. 

Buried deep, letting your walls flutter and clench desperately around him while his breath ghosts hot against the back of your neck.

“You keep running,” he says quietly, almost thoughtfully, as he pulls back just enough to slam in again. The wet slap of skin on skin is filthy.

“Every time I tell you to stay. Every time you look at me like you’re already gone.”

SMACK!

Your body jerks hard at the next spank, a broken cry ripping from your throat.

Before you can crawl away, his arm hooks around your waist and hauls you right back down onto his cock, pinning you flat to the slick floor. The woven texture bites into your tits and stomach as he forces you to take every brutal inch.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growls low, the first real crack in that calm tone. 

His hips snap forward harder, cockhead smacking mercilessly into your cunt with every precise thrust. “You’re not leaving Natlan. Not again.”

Smooth, deep rolls of his hips that drag his veiny length along every sensitive ridge inside you. Your voice climbs higher, cracking on whimpers you can’t swallow down.

Drool slips from the corner of your mouth onto the floor while your thighs shake violently.

“Kinich-! puhleaseeee- it’s too much—”

“It’s not.” Another punishing thrust. “You can take it. You will.”

His hand snakes underneath you, fingers finding your swollen clit. 

He pinches and rolls merciless little circles that have your walls clamping down around his cock like a vice. Your whole body seizes, pussy gushing slick down his length as he keeps fucking you through it.

“Don’t know why- Ngh-,” he rasps against your neck, voice fraying at the edges now, breath coming shorter. “Y’kept leaving me. Why ya- won’t stay put. ”

"Th-that's not— ah— that's not your problem!-"

"You made it my problem." A thrust that punches the air clean out of you. “So I found a solution. Gonna fill this tight little cunt until you’re swollen with my kid. Then you won’t have a choice.”

The words hit you like lightning. Your mind blanks for a second– “Wai-what—”

His cock swirls deep.

Pushing deeeep, his fingers pick up pace on your clit, dragging you toward something you've been denying this whole time, your walls fluttering desperately, your voice climbing so high it cracks—“No!- t-that’s genuinely insane!”

 "It isn’t." He held a small, satisfied smile.

"That’s not a solution, that’s literally—fuckkkk!"

But your body betrays you completely, cutting you off. Your walls flutter wildly around him, milking his cock as a devastating orgasm rips through you.

You came hard, screaming into the floor, tears streaming, thighs clamping shut around his hand while your pussy spasms and gushes.

Kinich groans low, the sound raw and animalistic, the first time that perfect hunter composure truly fractures.

His hips stutter once, twice, then he buries himself to the hilt with a sharp snap, pressing so deep you swear you feel him in your throat.

“HNGH!—”

Thick, hot ropes of cum flood your womb — pulse after heavy pulse, so much and so warm it spills out around his pulsing cock almost instantly, smearing sticky and obscene between your bodies.

Grinding deep through every wave, slow and deliberate, like he’s determined to push every drop as far inside you as physically possible. 

His arm stays locked tight around your middle, tattooed bicep flexing against your stomach, holding you exactly where he wants you.

“…Your body thinks it’s a perfect solution,” he breathes against your sweat-damp neck, voice hoarse but still terrifyingly calm. “Stop fighting it.”

You’re still shaking, still fluttering around his spent cock, when the reality crashes back in.

Tears prick hot at the corners of your eyes as you try to twist away from him, voice cracking with raw upset.

“No,” you choke out, voice hoarse and furious even while your pussy keeps weakly clenching around him like it’s trying to keep every drop he just gave you.

“I’m not getting pregnant. I’m not letting you trap me like this— you can’t just-  you can’t-”

He doesn’t pull out.

If anything, Kinich sinks a little deeper, grinding the head of his cock against your overfilled cervix like he’s sealing it. His lips brush the shell of your ear, calm as ever, but the grip on your waist tightens possessively.

“You already are,” he stares, almost fondly. “Or you will be. Soon.”

You pushed him off hard, “Like hell–”

.

.

🐊

A month later, the humid air inside the Scions of Canopys midwife’s hut feels too thick to breathe.

You’re sitting on the low mat, knees drawn tight together like that might somehow undo everything, while the older woman hums softly and presses careful fingers along your lower belly.

Nausea still clings to the back of your throat. Your breasts ache. Certain smells make you want to retch.

You already know what she’s going to say. 

Your captor behind you like a silent sentinel — arms loosely crossed, green-gold eyes half-lidded but missing nothing. 

The midwife finally sits back on her heels, expression unreadable for a long beat.

“Congratulations! You're expecting,” she says, no question in her voice, your stomach dropping.

“It seems you're a month along, oh! The baby is healthy…you would be due…” 

As the midwife drones on and on, pointing at the chart, you craned your head to glare at Kinich meeting his expectant gaze.

His expression, for once, was readable, and it only conveyed one thing:

‘You can deny it all you want, you’re stuck.’

🐊 LOHEN — Denial is a river

“LOHEN LET ME DOWN—YOU DONE LOST YO MIND.”  

You thrashed wildly, hanging upside down from the thick rope coiled tight around your ankle.

The world swayed in sickening circles, blood rushing straight to your head while your own heartbeat hammered in your ears.

Dignity? Gone. Long gone.

Meanwhile, Lohen was losing his shit.

Full-body, stomach-clenching laughter poured out of him as he bent over, one hand braced on his knee, as if he might actually collapse from how hilarious you were.

Red eyes squinted with pure delight, tears pricking at the corners while he wheezed.

“HA- holy shit!-” He dragged in a gasping breath, still grinning like a maniac. “You really walked straight into that one. Fuck, you’re adorable.~”

He finally straightened up and stalked closer, head tilted as he studied your flushed, upside-down face.

That manic little smile curled slowly and hungrily across his lips, one that promised nothing good.

“You actually thought you could escape me?” he cooed, voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Cute. Real cute.”

You glared hard enough to burn holes through him.

Lohen only stepped even closer, until he was right in front of your swaying body.

Two fingers reached out and squished your cheeks together like you were some grumpy little creature he’d caught.

“Look at that face,~” he sang, eyes sparkling with pure unhinged joy.

You jerked your head and sank your teeth into his thumb — hard.

A low, genuine, filthy sound punched straight out of his chest. His eyes fluttered, lashes kissing his cheeks. 

You pulled back, staring at him in pure disgust and disbelief.

He stared right back, looking almost surprised at himself for half a second… before that wild grin crawled back onto his face, twice as wide.

“Fuck I think I just came a bit…Do that again.”

This fucking freak

His hand finds your face again - cradles it, almost, which was somehow more unsettling than if he'd gripped it.

Thumb pressing into your cheek while your head kept spinning, and the rope creaked above you.

“You’re turning such a pretty shade.~” voice soft and sweet like poison. “Wow, are ya really that happy I’m touching you?”

“YOU PSYCHOTIC LITTLE—”

“Mhm,” Lohen cut you off smoothly, not even listening. His eyes dragged over you slowly and warmly, completely shameless. “Most people would’ve seen the rope, y’know,” he said, like you weren’t literally hanging upside down from his trap.

“Well, most people aren’t being fucking hunted-”

“Nope.” His thumb traced the line of your jaw, gentle and obsessive all at once.

“Just you… ‘cause iiiii loooove yooouuu.~” He drew the words out in that obnoxious, singsong way that made your skin crawl and your stomach flip at the same time.

You rolled your eyes so hard it made you dizzy.

Lohen hummed, tilting his head as he watched you sway.

That dangerous little smile never left his face while he tapped one finger against his chin like he was thinking.

“Now~” he purred, smirk widening with wicked promise. 

“How should we fix that nasty little attitude of yours…?”

Fuck

.

.

🐊

“Cmon what are ya waitingggg forrr?” 

You’re straddling him, completely humiliated, his thick cock buried to the hilt inside you while he lounges back like he doesn’t have a single care in the world.

Hands tucked lazily behind his head, mint-green hair splayed wild across the grass, that damn beauty mark crinkling as he grins up at you with pure psychotic delight.

You’re not moving.

Not one fucking inch, half out of overstimulation, half out of pure spite. 

SMACK!

His palm cracks hard across your ass, the sharp sting making you jerk upward with a broken yelp.

The sudden movement drags your dripping walls along every veiny inch of him, Lohen moaning loud and shameless beneath you, biting his lips like he just tasted heaven.

“There ya gooo~” he coos, voice syrupy sweet with fake innocence. “See? Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I fuckin’ hate you—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs, low and wheezy, eyes sparkling as he tracks every furious twitch on your face. “You gonna move properly, or do I gotta smack that pretty ass red again?”

You barely move.

Slow. Grudging.

The most resentful little roll of your hips that’s ever existed.

Throwing his head back he bursts into loud, unhinged laughter. “HAHAAH— fuck, look at you! So madddd~ So fucking upset and still creaming all over my cock.”

“Are you deadass right now-? Of course I’m mad-!”

“Faster.”

“What—?”

“Faster,” he repeats helpfully, tilting his head with that manic little grin. “You’re going reeeaaally slow, baby. My dick’s getting bored.”

You’re going to kill him.

Fuck it.

You’re going to cum and then kill him.

But your cunt says otherwise, pussy fluttering and sucking greedily around his thick length, no matter how much you glare at him. 

Lohen’s eyes darken with hungry delight. He suddenly sits up, arms wrapping around your waist like steel bands, yanking you down flush against his chest.

Shaft grinding deep, bullying right against that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision spark white. 

“F—fuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth, that primal edge slipping into his voice. “One more, yeah? Just one more f'me, pretty thing.” 

“Lohen, you’ve said that,” You batted your eyes, fighting the pleasure, “-for hours, lemme go!”

“Mmm, doesn’t sound like an answer,” he purrs, rolling his hips up in a filthy, precise way that makes your toes curl. “Doesn’t sound like you’re saying no to me.”

He doesn’t even wait for your reply.

His forearms hook under your thighs, spreading you wide open like a ragdoll as he starts rutting up into you harder.

Wet, sloppy sounds fill the air with every thrust — squelch-squelch-squelch — his cockhead kissing your cervix over and over like he’s trying to knock right through it.

“Hm? Hah- mmph!, seems like someone agrees with me.~” he laughs breathlessly against your ear, nipping at the shell with sharp teeth. “Your pussy’s the one begging for more. Greedy little thing keeps gulping me down like she never wants me to leave.~”

You try to squirm, try to plant your feet and lift off him even a little, but Lohen just tightens his grip and fucks up into you even meaner, bouncing you on his cock like you weigh nothing.

“Hahhh?? Running again~?” he tuts, voice mockingly sweet. “Nahhh, we still got s’much more rounds to go, baby. Five? Or is it six? I lost count already.” 

Your mind was blanking out; you've been doing this for so long, you couldn’t even form coherent sentences. “Fuh- no- mgh- I’m d-done!” 

"Your pussy's not done~."

“My- p-puhssy–! Don’t getta vote!” You shatter instantly — eyes rolling back, a broken scream ripping out of you as your sixth orgasm crashes through your exhausted body.

Lohen screams loudly while your walls milk him tight, but he doesn’t stop.

“Ohh-Fuck fuck fuck! Here’s ah!- another one, baby!-” Cumming hard with you, filling you up - he keeps thrusting through your high, chasing every last flutter like a man possessed.  

Thick, hot ropes of cum flooding your already overstuffed cunt. Grinding deeper, chasing every last flutter like a man completely possessed.

“Mmm—hah, there it is,~” he moans happily, beauty mark crinkling as he grins against your sweat-slick neck. Mint-green hair sticks to his forehead, messy and wild. “Good girl. That wasn’t for you, though~ That was all for this pretty pussy of mine.”

You’re sobbing now, chest heaving, body twitching uncontrollably in his lap. But Lohen just keeps bouncing you on his still-hard cock, slow and filthy, like he could do this forever.

“And she’s telling me…” he drawls, voice sing-song dropping into something darker, more dangerous, lips brushing your ear, “that you can handle three more.♡”

You flop forward against his chest, boneless and whimpering, barely able to hold yourself up. “A-asshole… h-hate you…”

Lohen’s manic laughter rings in your ear as he flips you onto your back in one smooth motion, never once letting his cock slip out of your spasming heat.

“Keep fighting it, baby. Keep telling me how much you hate me.” He leans down, eyes glowing with lovesick affection as he starts pounding you into the grass. “Makes my dick so fucking hard when you lie like that.”

You cry out, nails raking down his back as he folds you nearly in half, knees pressed to your chest.

Every thrust is loud, messy, obscene — the constant squelch of his cum being fucked deeper into you, the slap of skin, your broken sobs mixing with his breathless laughter.

“Look at her,” he coos, glancing down between your bodies where his cock disappears into your puffy, cream-filled pussy. “Still sucking me in so hungrily. Seems like she doesn’t wanna let go, does she?”

“Stop- I can’t-!!”

“You can,” he laughs softly, leaning down to bite your bottom lip. “And you will. ‘Cause every time you say you’re done… this cute cunt just begs for more.”

Picking up speed, pounding you into the grass with relentless, mind-melting strokes. Staring straight into your tear-filled eyes, beauty mark crinkling with that same unhinged grin.

“Three more, f’me baby. Then maybe- maybe I’ll let ya rest.~” His hands push your legs up to your head, angling deeper, making your eyes roll. 

“Or maybe I’ll just keep going until you forget how to say the word ‘no’ at all.~”

🐊 LYNEY — Hole dirtier than laundry!

You're so sure you're going to fucking suffocate at this rate. 

Lyney’s perched on your face like he weighs nothing, knees planted on either side of your head in the middle of his messy bed, sheets already twisted and half-pulled off the mattress. 

That skimpy little lingerie set he’d been hiding under his coat all evening still clinging to his slender frame—purple lace stretched taut over his flushed cock, the thin strap of the thong shoved to the side so his pretty, leaking hole could sit right against your mouth.

The fabric’s soaked through already and so is he.

He’d wanted this for weeks. 

The filthy thought had lived rent-free in that pretty head of his ever since the first time you turned your face away from his goodnight kiss.

Then again, when you shoved his hand off your waist.

Then again, when you told him to “fuck off” like it was nothing. 

Every denial made it worse. 

He got nervous—actually nervous—thinking you’d hate it.

That you’d push him off and call him disgusting for wanting something so selfish, so greedy.

But tonight you’d denied him one too many times, pushed him away with that same cold little glare, and this was the perfect excuse.

Discipline 

Clean. Simple. 

He could finally do it and blame you for making him snap.

Except he's the one losing his breath — soft, shaky exhales spilling from those painted lips every time your tongue brushes against his rim. That carefully constructed composure dissolves, piece by piece, every time you move beneath him.

“Mmmh—!” He grinds down harder, your hands flailing against his thighs, nails digging into lace and soft skin. “Cat got your tongue, mon amour~?”

His voice is all theatrical breathiness, that signature charm cracking at the edges.

Shifting his weight just enough for you to gasp in a desperate breath, only to sink back down again — ass firmly planted on your face, rolling his hips in slow, filthy circles.

The wet heat of his hole drags over your lips, your tongue, smearing slick and lube everywhere.

The sound Lyney makes when you're forced to lick him is loud enough that the entire wing's probably filing a noise complaint right now. 

Ash-blond hair with that tiny braid falls messily around his face, violet eyes fluttering shut, cat-like pupils blown wide. 

“F-fuck… just like- that!—ngh!”

His slender fingers fist the sheets above your head, hips twitching every time your tongue pushes inside.

“D-didn’t think you’d be so… eager to clean me up after all those- ah! Nasty words you threw at me this week. You sure you didn’t want this?~”

He laughs breathless, a little unhinged—and the sound melts into another whimper when you suck on his rim trying to get air. 

The lingerie thong keeps slipping back into place, and he has to keep tugging it aside with shaky fingers, the lace now completely drenched. 

"Haah — look at you. Flailing around.~" Another slow grind, deliberate and mean, his cock twitching hard against the lace as it leaks onto his stomach. "But you're not pushing me off, are you? No… you're licking deeper. Mmph!~."

You thrash hard, punching at his thighs, trying to get this sick man off your face. He either mistakes it for enthusiasm or simply doesn't care — the effect is the same.

His thighs shake harder, athletic muscles flexing as he rides your tongue with more urgency. That guarded side is completely gone. 

Replaced by something rawer.

The need to be wanted so badly that it overrides everything else.

"Keep going, mon amour," he pants, voice pitching higher, "because if you stop — hngh — I swear I'll sit here until morning. Until you forget every nasty word you said to me… and only remember this."

His fingers thread into your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your face exactly where he wants it. 

Not until he’s satisfied. Not until you’re his again—completely.

He can feel it building — hot, coiling, dangerous. And he refuses to finish like this, not when he hasn't taken everything.

With a shaky laugh that doesn't quite hide the edge beneath it, Lyney finally lifts off your face — justttt enough for you to drag in a ragged breath, spit and slick smeared across your lips.

Lungs burning as you try to speak—“Lyney, wait—” and before you can get a single word out-

His cock impales your mouth in one smooth thrust—thick, leaking, stretching your lips wide around the base of his shaft. 

You choke instantly, eyes watering, the sudden fullness reducing every word you had to a wet gluck-gluck-gluck.

His thighs lock firmly beside your head. "Mmmph — there we go." He rocks into your throat with shallow, greedy thrusts, voice dropping as his face disappears between your thighs. "That's it. Let me feel how sorry you are."

Leaning down his tongue is immediate and merciless — lapping, sucking, flicking over your clit with a precision that feels almost unfair.

One hand grips your thigh hard enough to bruise. The other presses flat against your stomach, pinning you exactly where he wants you.

You push at his hips, a muffled protest vibrating around his length — he just rolls deeper, unhurried, his cock fucks your mouth in the same rhythm. 

The room echoes with the wet sounds of him thrusting into your throat, mixed with the slurps of his mouth on your cunt. 

"Don't- fight it, mon amour," he groans against your spreaded folds, the words vibrating straight into your core. "You don't get to push me away anymore. Not after all those mean words."

He sucks hard on your clit, hips stuttering as he holds back his own orgasm. "Not after telling me to leave like I'm nothing."

The lace thong is still tangled around his balls, rubbing against the bridge of your nose with every shallow thrust. His tongue curls, teasing your entrance before plunging inside—matching the way his cock bullies the back of your throat. 

Your moans of reluctant protest are drowned out by his cock, completely overstimulated by how much of him you're feeling at once.

Every thrust pushes him deeper, every swirl of his tongue makes your legs shake. Whimpering into your cunt, the sound vibrating through you, but the words that slip out between licks are pure silk-wrapped venom. 

"If I have to do this every night until you stop denying me—" A sharp suck on your clit. "—then I will." 

His cock throbs heavily on your tongue. "I'll keep you right here. Until the only thing you know how to do is stay."

You try to pull off—hands slapping at his hips, a broken sob ripping from your throat around his shaft—but he just angles deeper. 

The filthy gluck-gluck-gluck of him fucking your mouth fills your brain, your eyes streaming tears that mix with the spit dripping down your chin.

And he doesn’t stop, tongue lashes harder between your folds, sucking your clit into his mouth with a lewd pop! before flattening it again. 

Mean. Possessive. Trying to pull your orgasm out by force. 

Your thighs shake around his head, hips jerking up involuntarily as the pressure coils tighter-too much, too fast, too-

You cum with a shattered cry that vibrates straight down his cock.

Creamy slick gushes over his tongue, thighs clamping around his ears, and Lyney moans like he’s the one breaking. Holding himself right there on the edge—cock twitching wildly in your throat—until your walls start fluttering hard. 

“F-fuck—ngh, that’s it—give it to me-”

His cock pulses hard on your tongue, swelling thicker, and then he’s cumming too.

Rope after rope shoots straight down your throat, thick and hot, until you’re choking on it, coughing up his seed around the length still buried between your lips.

He doesn’t pull out. Just keeps shallow-thrusting through it, forcing you to swallow every drop while he drinks you down like he’s dying of thirst.

The room spins. Your lungs burn. Tears won’t stop. While Lyney stays there a second longer, chest heaving, hips still twitching with the aftershocks. 

Panting, he eased cock from your mouth with a slurp!

Strings of cum and spit connect your swollen lips to his tip. Lyney watches it break with half-lidded violet eyes, his cheek flushed red.

You’re still sobbing softly, chest heaving, when he finally flips around. He curls over you, pressing soft kisses to your tear-streaked cheeks, your trembling lips, like he didn’t just fuck your face and sit on you for "punishment". 

“Shhh… mon amour,” he whispers, voice sweet as sugar, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “See? Wasn’t so bad. You took me so well… my perfect little assistant.”

Lyney's fingers thread back into your hair, holding you there as he nuzzles against your neck. 

“You’re not going anywhere tonight.” A soft, theatrical little laugh brushes your ear.

“Or tomorrow.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, tasting himself on you. 

“Or ever.”

🐊 XIAO — Bite first. Regret later

BAM! 

"I'm leaving- ” The wall meets your back before you finish the sentence. “-Xiao. I mean it this–"

The impact rattled your teeth, your breath was punched clean out of your lungs, he was just across the room, teleporting in a haze of green and black, shoving you against the wall.

Another sharp gasp to follow when Xiao drove into you again, deeper, meaner, like he was trying to carve his place inside you permanently.

This is the problem.

This has always been the problem.

He doesn't talk to you, doesn't tell you he needs you, doesn't acknowledge what this even is, what you are to him — just pulls you close when it gets too heavy and expects that to be enough. 

Weeks of silence. 

Weeks of watching him look straight through you like you're something precious he refuses to name because naming it would make it real, and real things can be taken away.

You're exhausted.

Your legs stayed locked tight around his narrow waist, thighs trembling violently.

"I—" You push at his shoulders. He doesn't move. "Stop. I said I'm leaving—"

The only thing keeping you from sliding down the wall was his iron grip on your ass, fingers imprinting in so deep you knew they’d leave bruises shaped like his hands for days.

Xiao doesn’t respond, no words, or explanation — just eyes burning with determined focus

The tattoo on his arm bleeds green into the dark.

"Let me go." Flat. Furious. You dig your nails in hard. "I- ah!  Mean it! I'm n-not doing this anymore, I can't keep– pretending-!"

He looks at you.

Amber eyes completely unguarded for once — staring at you like you've already got one foot out the door and he's watching it happen and he still, still cannot make himself say the words that would fix it. Jaw locked tight, breathing ragged.

Hitting that little spot inside you, your whole argument stutters. "That's not—"

You try to hold onto the thread of it. "That's not good enough, you can't just — this doesn't fix anything—"

He drives deeper. Your back hits the wall harder.

"Xiao!"

Nothing.

Just that devastating eye contact and the brutal, relentless pace of him, he's decided if he can't say it, he'll just make you feel it instead.

Your nails rake down his arms. "Oh-! This is- fuck! Insane. Shit! Your hurtin!- You can't keep doing this and expect me to stay!-" You twist, trying to get leverage.

His hand wraps around your throat, forehead dropping to yours, eyes closing, and he stays there breathing hard while his hips find a slower, deeper angle that makes your vision dissolve at the edges. 

The weight of his karmic debt presses down on the room like a physical thing. Ozone and something older, darker, filling your lungs with every breath.

You're furious, shaking, and overwhelmed.

But believe it or not, he was terrified of hurting you.

And yet he couldn’t stop.

"Shit, what do you want from me!?"

Instead of answering, he just bites down on your throat instead. Sharp. Claiming. So suddenly, your whole body arches into him against every intention you had. 

A broken sound tears out of you—high and pathetic—and you immediately hate yourself for letting it slip.

Teeth sinking in harder, not enough to break skin but enough to mark, enough to own, and your cunt clenches around him so violently it makes him stutter.

Yanking you up higher, forcing your back to scrape against the wall, making you cry out in pain- as he drives in deeper.  

The anger frays at the edges where the pleasure keeps burning straight through—white-hot and unforgiving.

“I h-hate you-” you gasp. Not true. Completely not true, and you both know it.

“You’re so—” Another broken moan cuts you off, raw and humiliating. “Infuriating.” 

He makes a sound against your neck. Low. Pained. Even that tiny admission costs him something precious. 

Still nothing. 

You’re crying now—angry tears spilling hot and fast down your face, your body betraying you completely as he drives you up the wall again and again.

Each thrust shoves you higher toward something you don’t want to give him. 

“Please,” you break, hating how small and wrecked it comes out. “Please just say it. Tell me you need me. Tell me I’m—that I’m yours, that this means something, that you’re not just going to let me disappear one day and feel nothing—” His entire body goes rigid. 

Exhaling, his hand slides from your throat to cradle the back of your head.

His forehead presses so hard to yours it almost hurts, eyes squeezed shut, hips grinding deep and slow and devastatingly deliberate now.

Every roll of his hips drags his cock against that spot inside you that makes your toes curl and your vision spark white.

He still doesn’t say it, waiting for you to say exactly what he wants to hear.

Xiao pulls you in so tight you can’t tell where he ends, and you begin anymore. Your breast presses hard against his chest, breath coming in short gasps from how tight he’s holding you, bruises already beginning to bloom.

Maybe...

“I’m staying,” you whisper, defeated, wrecked, voice cracking on every syllable. “I-i’m yours. I’m not leaving. Just—don’t let go.”

The sound he makes is quiet.

Devastated and relieved in a way that breaks your heart a little. He comes with his face buried in your neck, shaking hard, one arm locked around your waist like even now he doesn’t trust you won’t vanish. 

Thick, hot ropes of cum flood you—spurt after spurt—while his teeth stay sunk into your throat, muffling the broken groan that vibrates against your skin.

He keeps rolling through it, slow and possessive, making sure every drop stays deep inside you. 

Afterward, the room is just breathing. Heavy. Sticky. Charged. Then, so quiet it barely exists:

“…Again.” 

Not another round, you know that.

He wants to hear it again—the words he can’t say himself, confirmed in your voice, real and present and not leaving.

“I’m yours, Xiao.” You press your lips to his temple, voice hoarse and trembling. “I’m staying.” 

His grip tightens instantly. Fingers digging back into your ass, cock still buried to the hilt and twitching inside you like it’s trying to root there forever.

Xiao still doesn’t say it back; you already know how he feels.

The dark, suffocating truth that settles in the quiet—in the iron grip of his arms and the door you both know he’d never let you reach—is that staying was never really your choice to make.

 It stopped being your choice a long time ago. 

…Some sick, exhausted piece of you doesn’t even want the choice anymore.

an: woah...denial is a river y’all ♡

♡ 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 ♡

۶ৎ He’s a perfectionist. One day, while you’re on all fours, he’ll stop. Before you can ask, his hand travels from your hips to trace your back. Then he presses down—just enough to make you arch. “Just like that… Stay still for me.” And when he moves again? A soft whine escapes your lips, and any coherent thought vanishes from your mind.

۶ৎ He takes control so softly… especially when he speaks: “Don’t move.”, “Stay still for me, you look perfect like this.”, “Keep your eyes on me.” , “Let me hear you.” And really, how could you say no to him?

۶ৎ Yes, he enjoys power play—but in such a tender Albedo kind of way that you barely even notice. He’ll always ask: “May I?” Before touching you or making a bold move. Questions like: “Do you trust me?”, “Do you want more?” Are frequent during intimacy. He makes it clear that if you ever want to stop, just say the word—and he will.

۶ৎ He has aesthetic control, but he wouldn’t admit it. His methodical, observant nature means he notices which colors look best on you—especially in lingerie. He’ll absolutely go shopping with you. And when you’re alone, dressed in the lingerie he chose? He’ll make you stand still while he walks around you, observing. “You look incredibly beautiful like this,” he says, his voice soft. Then one finger slips beneath the strap on your shoulder— Snap. Teasing, playful, light. But when you catch the intensity of his gaze...? Oh, he’s definitely enjoying this more than he admits.

۶ৎ He may even buy accessories to match. “Just a moment, please,” he says one evening, pulling out a ribbon in the same color as your lingerie. He ties it into your hair carefully, then smiles at your reflection. “Tonight, you are my favorite creation of all.”

۶ৎ Girl, of course he has a praise kink. He’ll praise you until you’re so flustered you can’t even look him in the eye.

۶ৎ Look at him while he’s fucking you. Because if you don’t—he’ll make you.

۶ৎ Most of his favorite positions allow him to focus on your reactions.

۶ৎ Albedo likes sensory play. He’s a scientist, after all. Expect blindfolds, ice, or warm water trailing over your skin… followed by his breathless voice, slightly rough and drunk with arousal: “Does it feel good?”, "Do you want me to do it again?”

۶ৎ He kisses you everywhere—soft lips trailing along your jawline, collarbone, shoulders, inner thighs. Absolutely devastating.

۶ৎ Bondage? Oh yes. But not harsh. Never harsh. When you two try it, he uses silk ribbons, soft ropes, delicate lace. You’ll look so fragile, so delicate that you wonder how it’s meant to restrain you. Then you try to move— And he smiles. A little, quiet smile, like he’s unwrapping the most precious gift. And that night? He’ll untie every knot slowly, gently, and leave kisses behind each one.

۶ৎ He ties you—but with every knot, he kisses the skin beneath.

۶ৎ Albedo lets you ride him, not all the time but he does—and subtly takes control. Hands on your thighs, guiding you, watching every reaction. Trying not to lose himself because you look too good.

۶ৎ And here comes the boom. Ask him to go harder— That soft, whiny voice or, worse, a desperate plea? He stops. Not because he doesn’t want to— But because you just triggered something deep in him. His composed self cracks. “Can I ruin you?”, “Can I break you a little?” will be some of the questions crossing his mind in that moment.

۶ৎ Spoiler, he does it harder. Deeper and he knows which angulus and positions to use to make you scream his name.

︵ .︵ . ︵﹒︵୨ ꒰ Albedo ꒱ ୧︵ . ︵﹒︵ . ︵

There you were—just in your underwear—being observed like prey before being devoured. The lingerie, a subtle shade of peach, made you look almost ethereal. You were completely aware of yourself, hyperconscious of every movement, every breath. Albedo watched you with that signature calm of his, his eyes tracing every inch of your figure with the same precision he reserved for his experiments. He circled you slowly, gaze analytical yet reverent, until you couldn’t bear the silence anymore.

“Is everything okay…?” you asked shyly, eyes lowered to your feet, your heart pounding so loudly it echoed in your ears.

“Are you nervous?” he asked, already knowing the answer. You nodded.

Then, gently, he lifted your chin with two fingers, guiding your gaze to meet his own—those sky-blue eyes now slightly darker, clouded with something deeper.

“I feel too aware of myself…” you whispered, caught in his gaze.

You felt it next—his fingers slipping beneath the strap of your bra, caressing your skin like you were the rarest gem he’d ever handled. And then—snap.

A soft, deliberate flick. The sound made you inhale sharply, heat flooding your cheeks. His lips brushed the corner of your mouth—a quiet invitation. An unspoken promise that if you let go, he’d take care of everything.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Albedo murmured against your lips, his fingers ghosting over the small ribbon resting at your collarbone.

Another kiss, and you found yourself sitting at the edge of the bed. Another touch, and he was already above you, one knee pressing into the mattress. His fingers curled around the silk of your lingerie, tugging slowly—painfully slowly—like he was unwrapping the most precious gift.

And then, in that velvety voice dipped in dark desire, he spoke against your lips:

“Shall we begin?”

There was no need for an answer.

Because the moment his hands settled on your hips, the moment he resumed undressing you—terribly slow, his warm lips pressing reverent kisses onto every newly revealed part of your skin—you already knew.

You were at his mercy.

albedo has never really been one to care about things such as sexual intercourse or romantic chemical reactions, despite his curiosity for the world and thirst for knowledge he hasn’t really had a thirst for other people or their fluids.

however you were unlike all other humans, in albedo’s eyes you seemed to shine brighter than the stars and your laughter was clearer then everyone else’s. eventually this shifted into the curiosity of getting intimate with you.

albedo is no fool, he’s a grown man and not to mention one of the smartest men in teyvat. of course he knows about sex, he actually knows more about it then you expect. he knows much more than just the basic birds and bees, no no this alchemist knows all the right theoretical spots to bring pleasure to anyone. he just didn’t ever feel the need to try it out.

after you came into the picture this changed, albedo began to want to experiment with this suddenly interesting idea of sexual relationships and what that meant. so he decided to bring this to your attention.

you were shocked to hear that he wanted to have sex, even more so shocked that he did lots of proper research into making that if he at least didn’t find it satisfactory that you would. so naturally because he was very compelling (and very hot) you agreed.

the first time you two did it was in his lab, he had cleared out space and cleaned down the counter tops all for you. he wanted to make sure that this experience was in as controlled of an environment as it possibly could be, he made sure sucrose and timeous were out of the situation as well.

the first time you were nervous, not so nervous for the “having sex with albedo” part as you were sure he’d be fine and considering it was his first time you didn’t expect him to be great. no, you were worried about yourself. what if you weren’t good enough? what if he found that he just wasn’t turned on by you? what if in the worst case scenario you ruined the concept of sex for him?

well regardless of your worries none of them mattered as you two had the best sex of your life that day, albedo was right when he said he knew what he was doing and despite your concerns about being good enough albedo was absolutely enamored with you.

he thought that one time was amazing and before actually doing it he thought he’d only need that one time and one time alone, oh boy was he wrong. he enjoyed himself so much that all of the sudden he couldn’t keep it together when you were around!

it would appear that no matter what you do albedo would find himself unfocused and needy when in your presence, so he decided he should probably confront you about it.

when he told you it was surprising, though you didn’t really mind. albedo was a very attractive man and to say he was fantastic in bed would be an understatement, so you reassured him that nothing was wrong and that you would be happy to have sex with him anytime if he needed it.

biggest. mistake. ever. kinda.

you thought he would “have a high sex drive” as in maybe fuck 4-5 days of the week with short sessions or one round but you were wrong, poor you can’t catch a break and your muscles are now always sore :(

no, albedo is reserved and calm but dear god is that man a horn dog. for a month straight you kept track of how often you two had sex and it was almost every single day… FOR A WHOLE MONTH!

before you knew it you and albedo had become extremely accustomed to each other and had fucked in almost every corner of mondstadt, from his lab to the knights of favonious headquarters and everywhere in between.

at this point you knew each other like the back of your hands, he abuses the spongy soft spot in your walls that makes you see stars when he applies just a little pressure with his index finger and you abuse his sensitive porcelain neck that makes him go harder when you swirl your tongue in a star shape on it.

despite his usually calm and quiet self he’s quite loud in bed, constant heavy breathing and moans fill your ears and considering how heavenly his normal voice is his moans are like music from the gods.

he lasts a long time too, at first it was only one to two rounds but as it built up over time he was able to go for hours and hours. sometimes he’d wake you up to have sex as the sun rises and seeing the sunrise with albedo deep in your walls was like getting into heaven only much more sinful.

his favorite place to have sex is at your house, where there’s no one around and you can comfortably fuck wherever you wanted whether that be the bedroom or kitchen table.

albedo is all about cleaning up his messes though, any fluids you got anywhere would be clean that be your sheets or your countertops and sometimes he’d even use chemicals to erase your prints.

this fuckbuddy situation was so life changing that you’ve even considered dating albedo, not only is the man good in bed but he’s sweet and gentle. only in bed does he get more rough but even then it’s just the right amount.

who knows maybe one day albedo will be more than fuck buddy to you. (he already wants more with you.)

eventually you realize that you actually want more with albedo, of course you still want to have amazing mind blowing sex but you also want to hold him close and listen to him sing as he plays with your hair.

you of course start freaking out realizing this and decide the best way to go about the situation is to avoid albedo entirely! why tf would you do that.

you normally see each other every day whether that be because you drop off food to sucrose during lab hours or you run into each other at the knights headquarters, there’s plenty of reasons you see each other often.

so naturally the only thing you can do is choose to completely change your daily schedule to accommodate your ignorance of albedo, you send klee to drop off food for sucrose and you work from home as to avoid the knights headquarters.

this goes on for a solid 3 days before albedo worries, now he was already worried by day 2 but decided to wait in case you were thinking of coming out yourself and explaining the situation which you ended up not doing.

so albedo goes to your house after finally finishing his shift at the lab, he’s honestly quite tired and would love to go home and drink a cup of tea while reading but this is much more important to him.

he knocks gently at your door, for once in his life he finds himself growing anxious at the realization that you might be avoiding him. did he do something wrong? maybe you were sick of having sex with him? maybe you had found someone else… oh god please no anything but that.

albedo can feel his saliva thickening at the very thought that you had moved on from him despite the two of you not actually being together, lost in his thoughts he ends up staring at the floor when suddenly the door flies open.

you stand there before him utterly in shock and yet when albedo makes eye contact with you he can’t help but feel his “heart” beat even faster then before.

you look an utter and complete mess with your hair unbrushed and only wearing a shirt and shorts you threw on last minute to open the door, you don’t have any makeup on and your skin hits the cold winter air making you tense up.

but to albedo none of that matters, all that matters is that you’re right there in front of him and you look better than you ever have.

“a-albedo…. what are you doing here?”

“where have you been the past few days, i’ve been worried sick are you okay?”

albedo is speaking fast and with more emotion in his voice than you’ve possibly ever heard from him, you realize the effect you’ve had on him and start to feel guilty.

you begin to sweat and trip over yourself explaining, stuttering and mumbling you fidget with your hands and can’t seem to look albedo in the eyes

without warning he lightly places his hands on your wrists, you look up to find him with the same expression as always but you feel like there’s a tinge of relief in his eyes.

“may i come in?”

you stumble on your words once again as you sloppily invite him into your home and close the door behind you with a confused look on your face.

he grabs your arm and leads you to the couch, being careful not to pull too harshly. as he’s sitting the two of you down his hands don’t leave yours and you feel your face warm up at the thought.

“(y/n), do you have feelings for me?”

what the—how did he get it that fast? your jaw drops open and you struggle to find the words to answer.

"i—well... i mean— wha.. what are you trying to imply? i mean honestly, what kinda question is that..?" you stumble through the sentence nervously, trying to shift the blame onto him.

albedo listens carefully, waiting for the right moment to say something as you fumble with your words.

“i have feelings for you as well.”

you keep rambling and trying to excuse yourself and without even noticing you completely ignored what albedo had said, sighing albedo just looked at you and leaned in to kiss you.

mid rambling you freeze when you realize albedo's lips are on yours, and you inevitably melt into the kiss, having missed him more than you realized.

"'bedo.." you mumble against his lips, and you can feel him smile into the kiss.

"yes, love?" he says, pulling away ever so slightly, just enough to rest his forehead against yours as he waits for you to ask whatever was important enough to interrupt your moment.

"can we please have sex now?" you all but whine, looking at him with puppy dog eyes, to which he can only chuckle and comply with your wishes

albedo leads you to the bedroom and gently lays you down on the soft sheets, he climbs on top of you and moved your hair out of your face with a slight smile grazing his lips

he kisses you again, this time more lightly and you can feel the sincerity on hips lips. he’s holding himself above you so carefully and only pushing onto you a little bit to avoid crushing you

you giggle at the way his mouth tickles the nape of your neck, he slowly kisses along and looks up occasionally to see how you react with a glint of mischief in his beautiful cerulean eyes

before you know it albedo is tugging at your clothing and trying to pry them off at an almost slow pace, you help him and wiggle out of your garments as you feel up his arms and cup his face

it isn’t long before your lips meet his again only this time you take the lead and put more fire into the kiss, you let out a hum and albedo groans at the way you slip your tongue into his mouth with little hesitation

soon you find yourself practically clawing at each other, groping and squeezing and hurriedly pulling at albedos clothes

he finally get the memo that you want something more rough than what he had in mind and he pushes you back onto the bed as he begins to unbuckle his belt

you lay on the bed trying your best to look seductive, giving albedo bedroom eyes and pulling your lips between your teeth, your eyes sparkling with anticipation

and albedo notices this, he sees what you’re doing and it’s driving him absolutely wild. you’re just so sexy and he can’t help but be in awe at how you’re finally all his for certain

albedos belt slips off and so does his boxers as he leans down to your figure and begins lapping his tongue all over your chest, making eye contact the whole time as he circles his tongue around your sensitive buds

you whine at the feeling, pawing at him to just put himself in you. he laughs at your pathetic attempt to get him to do something but regardless he lines himself up with your walls and pushes in, you moan at the way he stretches you out and your back arches off the bed

albedo is trying to hold himself back a bit, kneading at the sheets to calm himself and find some sort of semblance of self control

when he bottoms out he lets out a deep sigh, almost as if he’s been waiting for this moment for 3 whole days. he waits patiently for you to give him the ok to move, unsure of how long i5 would take to adjust to him since it had been longer than usual without him

once you nod at him he pulls back slowly to make sure you can feel every inch of his perfectly thick and veiny cock, he hisses through his teeth before slamming back into you

you throw your head back and whimper at how deep he is, he fits your velvety walls so perfectly and you can swear he’s kissing your cervix

leaning down to your ear he picks up speed and wrap his arms around your waist, lifting your back up slightly off the mattress

“hnnngg you feel so good, fuck you’re so warm”

you shiver at the breath next to your ear, you can’t help but roll your eyes back at how amazing this position is

albedo on top of you with his arms wrapped around you and your wall wrapped around him, you couldn’t ask for anything better

he keeps pushing into you at a steady pace, his cock hitting that spongy spot that’s making you see stars. it’s like he keeps getting deeper with every thrust and you can’t do anything but moan at the feeling of being filled to the brim with a man more perfect than the sunset over dragonspine

“archons—albedo-ah!”

he lets a groan next to your ear, opting to start sucking on your neck to avoid being too loud. you mewl at the way he suckles perfectly on your sweet spot and oh how his tongue laps at your skin makes you so so weak

he slowly lays you back down on the bed, removing his arms from around your waist which causes you to let out a sound of dissatisfaction before gasping when he slips his hands into yours and pins them on the sides of your head

“you’re mine—mine, all mine”

his pace is practically animalistic and he’s almost growling at you, you’ve never seen him this primal and it makes you tighten around his thick cock

you start to feel your stomach tighten as the familiar buildup of your high arrives, you try your best to warn albedo with anything, words or sounds, yet you struggle to even get anything out because you’re in suck a daze of how amazing this feels

but not to worry, albedo knows. he knows by the way you tremble underneath him and how your gummy walls grip onto him like a vice, he lifts his head from your neck and crashes his lips into yours

it’s sudden and rough but albedo doesn’t care, all that matters to him right now is shoving his tongue in your mouth and being surrounded by your warmth

“c-cumming! bedo!!”

you can’t help it when your orgasm hits you so hard you feel like a freight train just slammed into you, the feeling takes over your entire body and you can’t seem to find words to come out of your mouth

arching your back from the bed and squeezing albedo’s hands you manage to not pass out while having one of the best orgasms of your life

and albedo is right there with you, he moans into your mouth he pushes his hips as far as possible into yours and rocks them back and forth gently when he finally starts to come down from his own high

after catching your breaths and staring at each other you both smile and you open your arms to him, he gladly embraces you and without words the two of you fall asleep together

unfortunately for your neighbor mona she happened to hear…. well. everything.

heat creeps up your cheeks. the only response you can muster to his teasing about the childhood nickname is a scoff. you aptly force your attention back to the group assignment, pretending to focus. he does the same — although not without that stupid smirk still tugging at his lips.

now you remember why you get so mean with him. nobody else in the entire world pisses you off like midoriya izuku. the sooner you finished this stupid project, the sooner you could leave izu-chan’s deku’s stupid apartment. especially, his stupid bedroom. with all his stupid comics and figures on the shelves. stupid posters that littered the walls. not to mention, his stupid face. eyes. freckles. lips. adam’s apple. collar bones. arms. abs. hands. thighs. dic--

it’s only when he clears his throat do you snap out of your blatant study of his crotch. you don’t have a guess for how long you’d been ogling him for.

“distracted?” he asks simply, tone casual and infuriatingly knowing.

“no,” you reply, implicitly telling him to drop it. you shrink into your seat, suddenly invigorated with a never-before-seen concentration on your computer’s screen. “i was just…” you begin, before shutting up, struck with the realization you didn’t have to explain yourself.

“just what?”

“nothing. do your work.”

he’s nice enough not to push it any more, giving a kind-sounding hum of acknowledgement. yet, the silence that follows does nothing for your overthinking. instead, you fall deeper into embarrassment as you worry about whatever assumption he’s possibly formed. therefore, for the sake of your dignity — you convince yourself — you break the silence to try to explain.

you glance up at him again, your chair creaking as you — for some reason — inch just a little closer. “what size shirt do you wear?” you ask with an exasperated sigh, one that would make no sense to him, unaware of the storm of thoughts behind it. the question comes off as random as you’d think it would and bitchier than you meant it to be. izuku ultimately thinks nothing of it though.

“depends on the fit. large. extra large.”

“in men’s, right?”

“you implying i wear something else?”

“what? no — i was just clarifying…” your brows knit together as you bite back something mindlessly snippy. “you’re... big,” you blurt out instead, heat rushing to your face once more the moment you realize how that sounded.

“…now i really think you’re implying something else,” he teases. the confidence he had gained since entering college was incredibly irksome to you, to the say the least.

“i- ew, no, yuck. that’s — it’s just that you’re… bigger. as a person. compared to how you were as a kid. y’know — scrawny.” you stumble over your words, scrambling to explain while keeping your eyes anywhere but on him.

he sighs, lowering his head onto the desk, arms and cheek pressed against the surface as he glances you over. “sure,” he replies, like he doesn’t believe you. his tone and behavior only serves to get you more worked up. "you were!" you exclaim, “you were arguably smaller than most dudes at U.A.” you notice then that that annoying ass smirk was still plastered on his face and you can’t stop yourself fast enough from slipping back into immature habits. “whatever,” you sigh, feigning apathy. “i bet that it’s still small.”

you don’t know what exactly you were trying to accomplish with that childish jab, but it was only digging you deeper into the hole that you already made for yourself.

“still?” izuku asks, questioning your word choice — not so much confused, but tickled. it makes you hesitate, forced to reconsider whether he actually does have a big dick. and worse, whether he’s always had one (which is something you obviously, never thought about before). something in the air shifts as he leans back in his stupid gaming chair, his body angled a little more towards you.

“...yeah,” you say, voice not nearly as convincing as you wanted it to be, trying to ignore how your pulse has quickened.

at first he says nothing, seemingly lost in thought, before a quiet laugh slips out — like there’s a joke that you’re not in on. because there is.

“what? what’s so funny?” you demand, brows furrowing the way they always do when you talk to him.

amusement yet again laces his voice as he recomposes himself. “you and kacchan are both just… so bad at flirting. he said the same exact thing.”

the cogs in your head begin to turn, along with a pit forming in your stomach. a dawning realization about the nature of your childhood friends' relationship, and even yours, slowly creeps over you. however, you’re either too in disbelief to connect the dots, or too unwilling to.

“what?” you ask, voice now uncharacteristically small.

the rough warmth of his hand settles on your knee as he speaks. you don’t move it — can’t— too caught by the sight of his face slowly leaning close to yours. his voice is low and careful, like a parent letting a child in on a secret. “you and him don’t know how to flirt,” he repeats. "you guys get all mean when you like someone because you're too embarrassed by your feelings. it's okay, i've never minded. it just gets a little old when we're this age."

you become agitated as he talks down to you. additionally, a flicker of something — jealousy, maybe — twists in your chest. you don't even know who exactly it's towards, but the strange, hollow feeling like you're being left out gnaws at you. "i, i'm not flirting with you, dumbass," you scoff, trying to recover. "are you stupid?" he laughs, low and amused. “he said that too.” “okay, well, he wasn’t flirting with you either,” you say, a little too quickly — as if you’d know. the words come out half in defense of your best friend's honor, and half in defense of… whatever it was that exists between you and him. "he wouldn't do that."

"what makes you think he wouldn't?" izuku asks simply, although he doesn't allow you to the chance to make your case. "you think i don't got a pretty face?"

“because he hates your guts, moron,” you snap, voice sharp. "and, because... " your words trail off as you are unable to put into words the complexities of you and katsuki's relationship.

izuku mimics your hesitation with a playful pout. “because… it makes you less special?”

your face burns. "you don’t know what you’re the fuck you’re talking about.”

“yeah?” he teases, leaning closer, chairs right next to each other now. “you don’t think it's obvious how you feel about him? you've always followed him around, like a lost little puppy, doing whatever he tells you; it doesn't take a genius to work it out. or maybe...” his hand, no longer resting on your knee, slides deliberately up and down your thigh, slow and measured, your skin on fire beneath his touch. “maybe… you just don’t like sharing me with kacchan?”

your pulse surges -- in your chest, behind your eyes -- like something’s about to burst. you can’t take it. this new version of izuku, calm and sure of himself, unshaken by your presence -- it’s unbearable. five years have passed since you last spoke to him, and whatever dynamic you once had is long gone. you hate the way it feels, not having power over him anymore. what's worse is how precise his analysis is. forced to think about it, you can’t stand the thought of katsuki secretly harboring feelings for izuku all this time, nor the terrifying possibility that you might want izuku for yourself. the realization settles in your gut like a stone, too heavy, and too terrifying to face.

you know you should control yourself — that it’s wrong, childish, and violent — but your body moves faster than your mind. your palm connects with his cheek in a harsh slap, driven by the desperate need to reclaim the upper hand. you’re on your feet before you even register what you’ve done, shock gripping you by your shoulders as you can only wait for izuku’s reaction.

the man, simply clicks his tongue, a low humorless chuckle escaping him as he slowly rises from his seat. then, his hands are on your arms, and the two of you engage in a wordless struggle, tension crackling between you as he wrestles for control without hurting you. in an instant, your back hits the edge of his bed. fear curls in your stomach as you resist -- not because he'd do anything cruel, but because you know he has every right to put you in your place. you’ve always dreaded confrontation and especially, the accountability that comes with it.

no one speaks for a while. your chest heaves, each breath shallow and uneven, as he forms a cage above you with his arms, his hands gripping your wrists. apart from your breathing, the only sound in the room is the steady ticking of his all might clock on the wall. his face draws close, so close that your breaths mingle, yet his expression remains unreadable. he’s just watching you... studying you. then, finally, he breaks the silence.

“me and kacchan have fucked,” he says plainly, deliberately trying to hurt you without the need of raising a single hand. his eyes are locked on yours to gauge your reaction, observing as the jealousy stabs your chest like a knife, your expression crumpling as the information rips you apart. tears begin to well at the corners of your eyes and it reminds him of when you guys were kids -- how you’d pout if they ever left you out of playing with them.

you thrash, like a mouse caught in a trap. "get off me…! i'm sorry for what i did, but, fuck, it didn't even hurt you--"

“why are you so upset?” he cuts you off, the sickly sweet tone only deepening your guilt. “he didn't tell you? i'd say that sucks, but you guys left me out of everything else. hell, you made me the target.”

“i only did it because kacchan told me to,” you bark back, avoiding accountability, as well as the urge to cry.

“but that’s not really it, is it?” he presses. “you know what i think? i think, you're the greediest little girl i’ve ever met. you can’t handle not getting your way, which is why you went along with whatever he told you to do; because it got you what you wanted.”

"that's not true-- " you interject, but he cuts you off again, tightening his grip around your wrists, but not enough to hurt you.

"isn't it? because the way i see it, it was like killing two birds with one stone for you. you'd get attention from him because you'd do what he says, and attention from me because you’re were being a bitch. i think, you’re upset because you think i don’t have to work for his love ‘like you do’ -- but you don’t fucking get it. he spoils you. i am the one who has to work for it. so, do you really think it would've been fair if i just gave you what you wanted too?"

despite izuku's overall calm demeanor, the raw frustration mixed with jealousy simmering beneath his surface was unmistakable. it was a side of him that you hadn’t seen in a while. that’s why, when a warmth began to gather low in your core, you found yourself unable to say anything, afraid you'd give away your perverted arousal and inadvertently prove his suspicions about your feelings for him right.

unfortunately, he catches on quickly, your blown out pupils making you.

“you’re serious?” he asks, voice carrying both utter disbelief and something darker. “of course you would get off to this.”

you panic, clinging onto what little dignity you have left. “no, i’m not--”

“just stop.” the command is quiet, but it lands like a blow. in one swift motion, he wedges his knee firmly between your thighs, the pressure against your clothed sex sending sparks of pleasure through your body. your hips buck against him subsequently, unable to control yourself.

“see?” he demonstrates, almost amused if he wasn’t so ticked off. “were you even listening to a word I said?”

your ears ring with embarrassment. “i was...”

“then tell me what i said.”

your throat makes a strangled noise. "i'm greedy... and a bitch..."

"close, but i meant verbatim."

“i can’t do that!” you object with a whine.

his sigh follows, as if he expected nothing less. “then you weren’t listening.”

he straightens, releasing your wrists and sitting back on his heels. the silence stretches, heavy and uncertain.

“what am I going to do with you?” he murmurs at last — more to himself than to you.

“i’m not a dog…” you grumble, shifting onto your elbows. “you don’t have to talk about me like that.”

izuku scoffs, rolling his eyes. “you act like one. god, do you always have something to say? you pull that shit when you do it with him?"

you go shy at the subject. izuku can feel his dick twitch traitorously against his thigh in seeing the difference from your usual behavior and over the mental image of the you and katsuki.

“you don’t, do you?” he slowly works out. “fuck, lucky bastard gets you all… sweet and soft. doesn’t even have to do anything, and you fall apart. man, he doesn’t even fucking deserve that. shit, you telling me i don’t deserve that? it never crossed your mind that if you’d just tried to be nice to me, you would've got what you wanted?”

you open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. sweat sticks your hair to your forehead. you’re flushed. breathless. in other words, you look fucked out, and he hasn't even touched you. "damn it," is all your ex-childhood best friend can say before crashing his lips onto yours. the kiss is searing, with years of foreplay yearning behind it. fisted hands tangle with hair before helping the other person take off their clothes — like it’ll kill them both to be wearing a shirt any longer. "how’d you do it with him?" you ask breathlessly once the two of you break apart for air. even though it makes you insanely jealous, the gnaw of curiosity trumps the feeling. "tell me what you think we did," izuku murmurs against the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking and biting. nimble fingers make quick work of your bra clasp and toss the garment aside. you swallow hard as cool air kisses your newly exposed skin, nipples already pebbled from arousal. in a full palm grope, he plays with one of your breasts, while taking the other into his mouth. "kacchan bottomed?" you guess, sucking in your breath as he swirls his tongue around your nipple, a sound which he relishes.

he smiles at your theory, your nipple in between his teeth as he does so. he sucks on the stiff peak for few seconds longer, before releasing it with a wet pop in order to respond to you. "mhm. is he submissive with you or something?” he asks, wondering how’d you know.

a whimper is drawn out of you as a result of his ministrations. you shake your head. “he’s mean to me.”

“aw, poor thing,” izuku cooed mockingly. "rough?"

you answer with a meek nod, watching with bated breath as he goes to undo the button of your shorts.

“i’d figured that’s how he’d do it with a girl. when me and him did it,” izuku explains with a low voice, “he was really bossy. ‘cause he was desperate, y’know? it was cute. begged me to pound his ass hard.”

he lays a large flat hand against your lower belly, pausing his movements to demonstrate. “you could see it bulge right about here.”

your thighs clench automatically, feeling lightheaded at the thought of it all. “s’not fair,” you whine, needy and shameless.

“next time,” he promises. “it’ll be all three of us.” with a firm tug, he yanks your shorts down your legs and off of you, pleased with the sight of your positively soaked panties. his dick throbs almost painfully in his pants as he examines how your arousal clings to the thin piece of cotton. with a smooth movement, izuku hooks his fingers into the waistband and tugs them aside, finally able to drink in your naked form in its entirety. without much (no) hesitation, he unceremoniously dives forward, sealing his lips around your aching pussy, feasting on you with a single-minded intensity.

your thighs reflexively clamp around his head as your fingers thread throughout his hair. “shi— izu…” you pant, stifling a moan. his hot breath fans against your folds, lips suckling your clit, and a familiar smirk creeps onto his face at the pitch of your voice. “oh, so i’m ‘izu’ when i’m eating you out, got it,” he scoffs, lightheartedly. in response, your pussy flutters against his tongue causing him to let out a groan that vibrates against your mound. it ends up leaving you aching for more -- your greedy hole now practically sucking his tongue deeper with each lap. luckily, izuku nears his limit, willing to give you what you want.

his last final slurp of your pussy is straight-up nasty sounding. as he sits back on his haunches, he wipes the glistening evidence of your arousal on his chin with the back of his hand. cooly, he wrangles off his belt buckle and zipper before shimmying his pants down, your eyes focused on his muscular thighs as he does so. you then watch as his boxers hit the floor, freeing his dick, which slaps against his abs -- the tip is flared and pink, with beads of pre-cum dribbling down its curved left-leaning length, all of which makes your pussy drool in anticipation.

as izuku reaches for a condom located in his nightstand, you stop him mid-motion. "i'm on birth control," you tell him, impatience and desire coloring your voice, not wanting to wait even a second longer. the information and its delivery can only make his erection twitch in reply.

that being said, he crawls towards you on the bed and aligns himself at your entrance. you mentally prepare yourself for the stretching sensation, but instead, izuku pauses, allowing merely the head of his shaft to just… nestle against your folds. a humiliating sound of frustration is ripped out from your throat.

"don't tease," you cry, reaching down to put it in yourself, only to have your hand intercepted by his firm grip.

“i’m waiting,” he says, voice infuriatingly steady.

“for what?” you demand, exasperated.

“an apology.”

“oh my god,” you groan. “i’m sorry...”

“thank you for the vague apology.” his eyes glint; he’s clearly enjoying this. your hips jerk involuntarily as izuku's slaps his tip against your pussy. “why don’t we get a bit more specific?”

you rack your hazy brain for what he wants, trying not to get distracted by the feeling of his swollen head rubbing against your clit. the faint red handprint on his cheek jogs your memory fast enough. “...i’m sorry for slapping you.”

“and?”

“and?!” you repeat back, incredulous at this drawn-out torture. “i-- i'm sorry for being mean to you." the for years hangs in the air, unsaid but heard.

he hums, unimpressed. “hm. not as good as i thought it’d be. you know, when most people apologize, they usually mention what they’ll do better.” his tone is calm, deliberate, and not like he's fighting back the urge to shove his dick inside you. “so. what are you going to do to be better from now on?”

“be nice?”

“be good,” he corrects. “keep your hands to yourself.... talk to me like you do everyone else… say it."

“i’ll be good,” you whine, hands gripping his bedsheets in restraint, as you hope he can see how genuine you are (or at least trying to be). it feels like forever goes by before he finally sinks himself into you, your own gasp catching you off guard as he does. he can’t help but moan shamelessly at the warmth coating his dick.

“fuck…” he drags out, hands gripping your hips tightly to ground himself, “this alone might make all of it worth it.”

every thrust is delicious, the slapping of his heavy balls against your ass a close contender in what you focus on, second only to the way the pulse of his dick feels inside your walls. you wrap your hands around his neck for support, unable to stop your whimpers and gasps.

as his cockhead gets caught on that spongy part inside, you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist in an effort to get him to hit that spot again.

“r-right there?” izuku’s voice cracks as he swallows the gathering saliva in his mouth, sweat dripping down his forehead. for a moment, the careful composure he’d grown into slips, revealing the awkward, disheveled version of himself you were familiar with.

you frantically nod — yeah — hand reaching down between your sweaty bodies to rub at your clit as you feel yourself coming close to the edge. based off his sputtering pace, you assumed he was as well.

“can i? inside?” was all he could rasp out, not having the patience to form an actual sentence in a time as urgent as this.

“please,” you beg, barely a whisper, and it’s what undoes him. his hands find his way to your jaw, cupping your face as he kisses you once more, burying himself deep as he cums. you find yourself following him right after, the contractions of your walls making him hiss sharply against your mouth as he was now much too sensitive.

he collapses right next to you and the two of you lie there in each other’s embrace for a while, absolutely spent, bare chests rising and falling against each other. izuku brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes half-lidded, unfocused — a mindless sort of gaze that drifts somewhere past you. eventually, he slips himself out of you, milky liquid dripping down your thigh when he does. you watch as he slides off the bed, crosses to his desk, and picks up his phone. before you can even register, he snaps a picture of your exposed state.

“what are you— ” you start, but he lifts a finger, wordlessly asking for patience. for some reason — maybe exhaustion — you don’t argue. a minute or two passes, before he finally turns the phone screen towards you.

kacchan (new phone)

me: [sent one image] (sent at 15:37) me: sunday? (sent at 15:37) ✓ ✓ kacchan: k (sent at 15:39)

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A rare night, but a silent night.

Save for the distant croaks of frogs echoing through the mansion’s central oasis. There on the engawa, the woman sat alone, yellow eyes gazing at the gentle trickling of the pond nestled among its stones and lush greenery. The crisp scent of the damp earth and faint traces of cherry blossoms lingered in the air, a subtle reminder of late March.

Winter had loosened its grip, yet a lingering chill remained, carried by the occasional breeze that wove through the garden, barely disturbing the strands of [Name]’s hair.

She exhaled slowly, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease. Yes, nights like these were rare; quiet, undemanding, untouched by duty or the weight of expectation. For a Hashira, moments of respite were fleeting. Yet here, in this stillness, she allowed herself to exist without obligation.

[Name] tilted her head back slightly, her gaze drifting toward the night sky. The moon hung low, casting its pale glow across the garden, its light flickering against the rippling water. Somewhere beyond the walls, the world continued — demons lurked, battles waged, and the cycle of blood and survival turned endlessly. But for now, in this moment, she was simply here.

And she couldn’t ask for anything more.

As her gaze fixed on the glimmering stars, a sudden creak of the floorboard broke the serene peace, cutting through the gentle hum of the night. Instinctively, [Name]’s senses sharpened, an abrupt darkness overwhelming the calm she had settled into. Her muscles tensed, though only for a fleeting second.

Of course, she already knew who it was.

Akaza.

She didn’t need to turn around to confirm it. His presence was distinct, impossible to mistake, unlike other demons she’d come to encounter. It was a quiet force, looming yet unthreatening in the way only he could manage when he was around her. The air around him carried the faintest weight of something unspoken and something unreadable.

“You’re quiet tonight,” she murmured, eyes still fixed on the moonlit pond before her. There was a pause. Then, the sound of steps; soft and steady, until he came to stand just behind her.

“You’re slipping,” Akaza replied, his voice low, tinged with something akin to amusement. “You noticed me late.”

[Name] scoffed, finally glancing over her shoulder. “Or maybe I just didn’t care to react.”

Their gazes met, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. A pale glow came to rest over his features from the moonlight — bringing forth the stark contrast of the deep navy markings staining his skin, and the unwavering intensity in his golden eyes. His presence was as familiar as it was conflicting. He was a demon, an enemy, yet he was one who had crossed her path far too many times without bloodshed.

Akaza shifted slightly, lowering himself onto the engawa beside her with an ease that felt almost practiced.

“You look tired.”

She huffed. “And you’re as blunt as ever.”

He said nothing to that, only tilting his head slightly as if he was studying her. “Rest doesn’t suit you.”

“Is that so?” [Name] leaned back, resting her palms against the wooden boards. “And what, lurking in the shadows suits you?”

A smirk ghosted over his lips. “It does, actually.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t push him away.

And for a while, neither of them spoke as the night stretched around them. It was quiet, aside for the distant chirr of crickets and the occasional rustling of wind through the trees. The pond before them shimmered beneath the moon’s light, its surface undisturbed.

[Name] exhaled, her fingers curling slightly against the wood beneath her. “You’re not supposed to be here.

Akaza let out a low chuckle. “And yet, here I am.”

She shot him a sideways glance. “You’re awfully comfortable for someone who should be my enemy.”

His smirk didn’t falter. “Would it make you feel better if I stood instead?”

“It would make me feel better if you weren’t here at all.”

His expression didn’t change, but there was something unreadable in his gaze. “Liar.”

[Name] scowled, turning her attention back to the pond. “You really like that word, don’t you?”

“Only when it fits.”

She huffed but didn’t argue. She couldn’t argue. No, not with him.

Then, another long silence fell between them, and in a quieter voice, Akaza spoke again. “You’ve been busy.”

[Name] arched a brow at him. “Been keeping tabs on me?”

“No.” He shrugged. “I can just tell.”

She hesitated before responding. “Hunting demons is an exhausting job, you know.”

“And still, here you are.” He nodded toward the pond. “Taking in the scenery instead of sleeping like a human should.”

The woman frowned but didn’t deny it. Sleep had eluded her more often than not these days, though she wasn’t about to admit that to him.

“And what about you?” she asked instead, eyes narrowing slightly. “What have you been doing aside from… well, this?” She gestured vaguely between them. “Still slaughtering your way through the nights?”

Akaza didn’t answer right away. His gaze flickered to the water, as if he were in thought of what to say. “Some nights are quieter than others.”

“What, you take breaks from murder now?” [Name] scoffed.

He didn’t laugh. “Would it matter if I did?”

That caught her off guard. She stared at him, trying to decipher the meaning behind his words. But his face, his gestures, his expressions — they were always so difficult to read — as if his golden eyes held something she couldn’t quite grasp.

“Why are you really here, Akaza?” she asked finally.

He didn’t answer right away, letting the question linger for a moment before he admitted softly. ”I don’t know.”

[Name] clenched her jaw. That was the worst answer he could have given. Because if he had a reason — if he had said it was just to taunt her, or to fight, or something else she could categorize neatly as enemy behavior — it would have been easier.

But I don’t know was dangerous, because she didn’t know, either.

And that made all the difference.

She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. “You’re impossible.”

Akaza’s lips twitched in something resembling a smirk. “Yet, you’re still here.”

Man, did she really wanted to throw him off the engawa right then and there. Instead, [Name] simply clicked her tongue, still she didn’t retort. But as the night wore on, they sat in a continued silence, the sounds of the garden filling the gaps between them. The quiet felt different now.

No longer did it feel entirely peaceful, though it was not stricken with burden.

For now, neither of them acknowledged the unspoken truth that lingered between them. The lines that divided them. The inevitable reality that, one day, they would have to meet again — not like this, but as adversaries.

But not tonight. Tonight, they simply existed, basking in the other’s presence.

“How long has it been?” she asked finally, keeping her voice light as if the answer didn’t matter.

Again, the demon didn’t respond right away. He inhaled slightly, as if testing the weight of her words before exhaling. Then, “Three months,” he said at last.

[Name] swallowed. She hadn’t expected an exact answer, but hearing it aloud settled in her chest like a stone. Three months. That long since their last encounter, since she had last heard his voice or felt the unsettling comfort of his presence.

Still, she kept her gaze trained on the water, but she could feel Akaza’s presence beside her — unwavering, almost solid in a way that unsettled her more than she would ever admit.

She hated this. She hated how easily he existed in her space, how natural it felt to have him there, sitting on the engawa like they were simply two souls enjoying the night. She hated how she didn’t tense in his presence, how she never truly feared him the way she should.

The way she knew she should.

He was a demon, for God’s sake — an upper moon, no less. A sworn enemy of the Demon Slayer Corps, a monster who had taken countless lives, who thrived on bloodshed. And there was no justification, no reason in the world that should make his presence beside her acceptable. Yet even still, here they sat.

And this wasn’t the first time.

It had started as a game of chance, of circumstance. Encounters in battlefields that never quite turned into fights. Moments stolen in the dead of night that were brief and lingering, their conversations just as much a clash as the blades and fists they should have been exchanging.

It was a dangerous thing. A forbidden thing.

But she didn’t move.

“You seem… troubled.” His voice was even, indecipherable as always — but there was something that lingered beneath it. Something almost careful.

[Name] simply shook her head. “Not everything is that deep, you know.”

Akaza hummed, seemingly unconvinced. “You’re thinking too much.”

She turned to him then, her brows knit slightly. “And since when do you care what I think about?”

He met her gaze evenly, his golden eyes calm yet piercing. “Since you started looking at me like you don’t know whether to draw your sword or let me stay.”

Her breath caught almost instantly in her throat — albeit, just slightly. But just enough for her to feel the heat of anger, embarrassment, and frustration coil deep in her gut.

Because he wasn’t wrong, and that was the worst part.

[Name] tore her gaze away, exhaling sharply. “You’re delusional.”

Akaza cocked his head, studying her with that infuriating patience he always seemed to have around her. It made her want to snap, to force him into a fight just so she could drown out the thoughts swirling in her head.

Thoughts she shouldn’t be having. This wasn’t right. He wasn’t right.

She was a Hashira and he, a demon.

There was no place in the world where this — whatever this was — could exist. But despite knowing that, despite the weight of her duty pressing against her, she couldn’t make herself tell him to leave.

She couldn’t… she couldn’t bring herself to sever whatever fragile thread kept bringing them back to this same space.

Akaza leaned back on his hands, eyes drifting up to the sky. “You know,” he murmured, “if you were going to kill me, you’d have done it by now.”

[Name]’s jaw tightened. “Don’t test me.”

He chuckled, the sound low, almost amused. “I’m just saying.”

“You always just say things,” she muttered bitterly, gripping the fabric of her uniform tighter around her arms. “That’s the problem.”

And it was a problem. Because every time they crossed paths, and every time their conversations stretched longer than they should, she felt herself slipping. Not in loyalty, not in duty — never that. But in something else.

Something she refused to name. Because to name it would be to acknowledge it. And to acknowledge it would be to admit something far worse than treason.

“You should go,” she said abruptly, forcing steel into her voice, ignoring the way her hands clenched just a little too tight in her lap.

Akaza glanced at her, his face undefinable for a long moment. Then, slowly, he pushed himself to his feet. "Very well. As you wish," he said lightly, turning his back to her. "Maybe next time, you'll figure out what you really want to say to me."

[Name]’s brows knit, feeling a chill creep up her spine from his words. “There won’t be a next time.”

He smirked. “If you say so.”

And then, just as quickly as he had come, he was gone, vanishing into the night with nothing but the lingering weight of his presence left behind. The woman exhaled, pressing a hand to her temple as if that would rid her of the whirlwind of thoughts he always seemed to leave in his wake.

Damn him. Damn herself.

And damn whatever this thing between them was — this fragile, unspoken thing neither of them had the strength to say.

✭

✭

✭

The weeks bled into months, and the months edged toward almost a year.

[Name] never saw him again.

At first, she told herself this was a good thing. It was what she had wanted, what she had demanded. No more shadows at the edge of her senses, no more stolen conversations beneath the veil of night, where the lines between enemy and something else blurred too easily.

She should have been at peace. Should’ve.

But the longer the silence stretched, the heavier it became. It shouldn’t have bothered her so much, she would tell herself. Yet the feeling settled in her chest like a dull, aching weight that refused to fade. She convinced herself it was residual tension, a habit of being on guard. Nothing more.

But habits didn’t have her staring into the night, listening for a voice that never came. Habits didn’t make her catch glimpses of movement in the corners of her vision, only to turn and find nothing there.

It was infuriating, how he lingered even in absence. And she hated that she noticed, and she absolutely hated that she missed it.

So she threw herself into her duties, training rookies, taking missions, and fighting demons. Anything to keep her mind from straying. If she was exhausted, she wouldn’t think of him. If she pushed herself hard enough, she could go whole days without wondering — without remembering how he looked in the glow of the moon’s light, how his golden eyes looked at her.

She hated that look. She had wanted to hate that look. But something about it stayed with her, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts like a quiet hunger. And no matter how many demons she cut down, no matter how many miles she traveled, that feeling never left.

Like a splinter buried too deep beneath the skin.

The nights were the worst. The emptiness drew out, vast and unforgiving. Worst of all, she was always alone with her thoughts, with the weight in her chest, with the knowledge that she had pushed him away, and that he had listened.

Her fingers twitched sometimes — grasping at empty air, as if expecting to brush against something that was never there. As if expecting to find him.

It was stupid.

Now, [Name] was not naïve. She knew what people would say if anyone discovered even an inkling of this thing plaguing her. To sympathize with a demon is to betray your own kind., to betray the Corps. That was the unshakable truth she had been raised on, the belief ingrained in her from the moment she picked up a sword. There were no gray areas. No room for doubt.

Demons were monsters. Killers.

They were meant to be slaughtered without hesitation, without question. She had spent years building herself into the kind of warrior who did not flinch at their deaths.

And yet — and fucking yet.

She could not erase the quiet way he had looked at her that night. As if searching for something in her, something neither of them could name in that moment. She couldn’t forget the way his voice had sounded — so still, so unshaken — as he spoke words that had burrowed deep beneath her skin.

“Maybe next time, you’ll figure out what you really want to say to me.”

What had he meant by that? Why had he looked at her like that? And why of all things was it still haunting her?

[Name] exhaled sharply, adjusting the grip on her sword.

The morning was still young, the air even crisp as she moved through the training grounds, overseeing the younger Slayers as they practiced their footwork. She kept her tone firm, her instructions precise. She did not allow herself to falter, did not allow herself to show any trace of the unease that had been gnawing at her for months.

There was no room for weakness. No room for whatever this was.

But even as she corrected a student’s stance, even as she parried blows from a younger recruit, she could feel it — the weight of something unfinished. Of something left unresolved. No matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise, she knew this was not over. Not even as another mission came not long after, one she was assigned to alongside the very man that reigned of flamboyance. The man known as the self-proclaimed “God of Festivals,” Tengen Uzui.

And the journey was a long one, taking them into the mountains where reports of demon activity had increased. The sun hung low in the sky as they traveled, the scent of damp earth thick in the air.

[Name] kept her gaze forward, her posture rigid, and her mind focused. Or at least, she tried to keep it that way. But Tengen was perceptive. More than most gave him credit for. He noticed the moment she grew quieter than usual, the way her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, the way she seemed a little too lost in thought.

“You’ve been awfully gloomy lately,” he said suddenly, his voice light but edged with curiosity. “It’s not like you.”

[Name] barely glanced at him. “I’m fine.”

Tengen raised a brow. “That’s not an answer.”

She sighed, adjusting the strap of her sword on her hip. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Oh?” He smirked. “So you’re just sulking for no reason, then?”

Her eye twitched. “I am not sulking.”

Tengen hummed as if unconvinced, keeping pace beside her with infuriating ease. “You’ve been acting strange for awhile now. More tense. More mopey. Not as flashy as usual.”

[Name] merely rolled her eyes. “Not everything has to be flashy, Uzui.”

“Says you. But I digress.” His expression shifted slightly, the teasing still there, but now laced with something quieter. “Whatever’s on your mind, it’s eating you alive.”

“I told you. It’s nothing.” She affirmed irritably.

“[Name].”

His voice was softer now, lacking the usual bravado. He rarely spoke like this — so genuine and direct. It caught her off guard for a short moment, and she didn’t like that it did.

She forced a breath through her nose. “I don’t have the energy for this conversation.”

Tengen studied her for a very long moment. But then, to her surprise, he let it go. “Fine,” he said easily. “But don’t expect me to stop noticing.”

She exhaled, relieved that he didn’t press further. Because if he had, she wasn’t sure what she would have said.

Or worse… what she might have admitted.

✭

✭

✭

And again, another restless night where the Hashira lay awake in her quarters, her eyes focused on the wooden ceiling above. The faint flicker of a lantern cast shifting shadows across the entirety of the room, its dim glow barely enough to chase away the dark.

She should have been exhausted.

The days that passed had been relentless; missions that left her body aching, training sessions that tested the limits of her endurance, meetings that dragged into late hours. Yet, despite the weight of fatigue pressing against her limbs, sleep remained elusive.

Because the moment she closed her eyes, she could feel it.

The absence.

The silence.

The lack of his presence.

[Name] exhaled slowly, turning onto her side, her fingers twitching as if grasping for something that wasn’t there.

This was ridiculous.

She had no reason — no right — to feel this way.

Akaza was a demon. A murderer. An enemy to everything she stood for.

So then why did she miss him?

The thought alone made her sick. She clenched her fists, jaw tightening as she forced herself to banish the thought before it could take root.

Because she did not miss him.

And because she did not care.

She was simply… left unsettled by the unfinished resolution. This was simply just… unease. The discomfort of an unresolved encounter, of unfinished words were left lingering in the air.

That was all.

Nothing more.

But even in the deepest pit of her stomach did something whisper to her — a harsh, merciless truth that she refused to acknowledge even once.

Liar.

And then it happened again. Another grim night had come, one indistinguishable from all the others. One that was cold and empty, a stretch of time when the world seemed poised and on the edge of something that couldn’t be seen.

The Hashira moved through the dense mountain forest, her zori silent against the damp earth, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her sword.

Another call for duty that found [Name] on patrol, her gaze sweeping over the mountain that she claimed as her territory. The air was crisp here, as it had always been — thick with the scent of pine as she moved silently through the dense forest. The only sound was the rustling of nocturnal creatures, their calls breaking through the stillness. It should have been a routine patrol.

And yet, something had changed. A subtle ripple within the air. The unmistakable sensation of being watched.

She felt it before she saw him — just a flicker at the edge of her vision. A presence that slipped through the night like a whisper against her senses. Still, she did not turn. She did not move. But her grip tightened ever so slightly.

“You’ve been looking for me.”

The voice was smooth and deep. It did not falter in the slightest, even as he stood before her again.

And damn him — damn him — the sound of it sent a painful, gut-wrenching twist through her chest. [Name] exhaled slowly, stablizing herself before she finally turned.

And there he was. The same as he had always looked all those times. Untouched by time.

The same golden eyes, the same expression she couldn’t read. The same quiet grace that had always set her on edge. But there was something in the way he watched her now… something that was different.

“I haven’t,” she said, her voice monotonous, not even daring to show a flick of emotion in her features. Not even as she met his eyes.

A pause.

“Liar.”

And there was that word again. One singular word that cut deeper than it should have. Still, her expression did not move, nothing but the small twitch of her fingers against the hilt of her sword.

It didn’t go unnoticed.

“You should have stayed gone,” she retorted, her voice softer this time.

“Would that have made it easier?”

She hated that she hesitated. That, for a brief moment, she considered what he was asking.

A silence fell over them, one that stretched for God knows how long. [Name] could only hear the world around them; the rustling leaves, the distant howl of wind cutting through the trees, the faint hum of crickets hidden in the underbrush.

But none of it mattered. None of it existed. Not while he was here. Not with that damned gaze locked onto her.

Not when she could feel the weight of something unsaid pressing against her chest, like a hand tightening around her throat.

He hadn’t moved, nor had he raised a single muscle. He hadn’t done anything but watch her.

And that infuriated her more than anything. Because it wasn’t just the weight of his presence that unsettled her. No, it was the fact that he knew. He knew she had thought about him, he knew she had searched for something that wasn’t there, he knew she had wanted him gone, and yet, she hated him for staying away.

Again, her fingers twitched in ache to draw her blade.

Would that have made it easier?

His question still hung in the air, suffocating in its simplicity. Would it have? Would it have been easier if he had never returned? If she had never seen him again? If she had been given enough time to erase whatever this thing was, growing inside her?

[Name]’s breath came in short, uneven gasps.

No. No, it wouldn’t have.

Because he had already carved himself into her mind, a wound so deep that it refused to heal, because she had already failed. And now, he was standing here — so close, yet impossibly distant — she hated him for it.

But more than anything, she resented herself for it. For the way her fury twisted inside her like a living thing, clawing at her ribs, and demanding release. So she did the only thing she could, she let it consume her.

With a snarl, she unsheathed her sword and lunged, rage surging through every fiber of her being. The night air split apart with the sharp whisper of steel, her blade cutting through the empty space where he had stood just a heartbeat ago.

But he was fast. Too fast.

[Name] barely saw him move, yet he was already gone, already out of reach. His body shifted effortlessly, the space between them closing and expanding in an instant, his movements smooth and unhurried.

Her next strike came harder and faster in downward arc meant to cleave. But again, nothing. Nothing but her own frustration and her own emotions dulling the edge of her skill.

He sidestepped, his arms still loose at his sides, watching her intently every time.

He wasn’t even fighting back. Instead, he waited, letting herself burn out with each stride, with each thrust, with each swing.

“Stop being a coward and fight me!!” she spat, twisting into another strike.

This time, he blocked, barely lifting his arm as her blade crashed against his forearm. It was a spark of impact. Yet there was no wound, not even a flinch. Just him — standing there, looking at her with something she couldn’t bear to see.

She tore her sword back and swung again, and again, and again. Each time, he dodged, deflected, refused to retaliate. And with every evasion, the fire inside her blazed hotter.

“Stop running!!” she roared, her sword a blur as she slashed, slicing through the air mere inches from his face.

But he didn’t falter.

That was what finally shattered her. [Name] stumbled back, chest heaving, sword trembling in her grip. Her pulse roared in her ears, a wild, frantic thing that refused to settle.

And he just stood there, nothing more of calm and at ease, like she was the only one going crazy. Like she was the only one bleeding from this.

The realization struck like a dagger to the gut. That this wasn’t a fight. This was a spectacle, and she was the fool, swinging her sword for an audience of one.

Her breath caught. Her fingers tightened around the hilt until pain flared up her arm.

Say something, she wanted to scream. Give me a reason to end this. Give me a reason to cut you down. Give me a reason to stop—

“Why…” she whispered, her lips trembling slightly. “Why won’t you fight me?”

The words came out hoarse in half a demand, half a plea. And she hated it. She hated that she needed an answer from him.

Akaza tilted his head, his face stoic. And then, finally, he spoke. “Because I know this isn’t what you really want.”

His words were quiet, yet undoubtedly certain.

And gods above, she wanted to rip them from the air before they could take root inside her. Because he was right and she hated him for knowing it. She hated everything about him.

[Name] exhaled shakily, her grip loosening just enough for her sword to lower — just an inch, but just enough to surrender without saying the words. Her shoulders trembled, whether from exhaustion or something far worse, she didn’t know. But she didn’t want to say it.

The night air pressed against her sweat-dampened skin. Every breath scorched her lungs. She had poured everything into those attacks — her fury, her grief, every shattered piece of herself.

But even then, he remained untouched.

He had let her rage, he had her strike, and he had let her unravel right in front of him. And now, as she stood there, stripped bare by her own anger, she realized… she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know who she was supposed to be in the wake of this.

So she did the only thing left.

She turned away and refused to look at him. She refused to let him see whatever remained of her as silence fell over them again, much thicker than before, and heavy with everything that was left unsaid.

“Next time,” Akaza murmured, his eyes searing into the back of her skull, “figure out what it is you really want to say to me.”

She tensed, nails biting into her palms. She didn’t answer him, she didn’t move. She couldn’t for the life of her. Not even close.

And when she finally dared to look back…

he was gone.

✭

✭

✭

The morning after, [Name] awoke feeling heavier than she ever had before. Her body ached from exertion, her limbs sluggish as she pushed herself upright, but it wasn’t just the exhaustion of battle weighing her down.

It was something deeper within. Something she didn’t want to acknowledge, that she didn’t even want to label.

She had lost.

Not because Akaza had defeated her, he hadn’t even fought back. But because she had given herself away, she had let him see too much. She had lost control, her fury spilling forth in every strike she took out on him, and he had caught every single unspoken word of emotion buried beneath her rage.

And now, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t take it back.

She couldn’t erase the way she had needed him to fight her, the way she had wanted him to give her an excuse to cut him down. Because if she had killed him, if she had ended this, then none of it would have mattered.

Then she wouldn’t have had to face the truth. And maybe then, it would have given her some form of relief — some resolution.

But now? Now she was left with nothing but the bitter aftertaste of her failure.

So she’d do the only thing she knew how to do, the only thing that had kept her going and alive for all of these years. She moved forward.

She dragged herself from bed and forced herself into routine; training, scouting missions, overseeing new recruits. She did everything she could to fill her days, to keep her mind too occupied to think of him.

More weeks passed. Then months.

And gradually, painfully, the weight in her chest began to settle into something easier.

Not gone. Never gone. But bearable.

She no longer flinched at the memory of his words. No longer lost herself in sleepless nights wondering what if?

She had come to terms with the truth, at least, as much as she allowed herself to. She could admit that what lingered between them was something.

Not friendship.

Not enmity.

Not love.

Something impossible. Something she would never give voice to. And that was enough.

She was at peace. Or so she told herself.

The night was cool as the air carried the scent of fresh earth and dampened leaves of fall. [Name] sat on the engawa, arms resting against her knees while she watched the gentle ripples of her pond.

It had been a long day, but she felt… calm.

Not restless.

Just here. At ease.

She closed her eyes, letting the sound of trickling water soothe the remaining tension in her body.

But in a moment’s peace, granted, it wouldn’t last in her favor. Because the second she felt that familiar shift in the air, that of the presence she knew a little too well, her eyes opened slowly.

Still, she did not move. She did not turn. She didn’t let herself react.

Because the moment she acknowledged him — the moment she let herself feel anything at all — it would all come undone.

He said nothing at first, not making a single sound. B out she felt him. She felt the weight of his gaze settle over her like a second skin. And inch by inch, she felt the space between them shrink — just enough that his presence was no longer undeniable.

And when he finally spoke, it was as if the months apart had been all for nothing.

“It was as I thought,” Akaza said. “You weren’t truly ready to say goodbye.”

Her breath hitched as soon as those words left his mouth. The same feeling poised her again — that slow, steady ache that would bloom in her chest.

Gods, she hated him. She hated that with just a few words, with nothing more than his presence that he could shatter everything that she had spent months rebuilding. She fucking hated it. She couldn’t bear it.

“I thought I’ve made it clear” she said quietly, her voice steady, her fingers curling deeply into her palms. “This isn’t—”

“A place for a demon?” Akaza interrupted, his tone monotonous.

Her jaw tightened.

“No,” he continued, stepping onto the engawa beside her. He left a careful space between them, but not quite enough. “This is exactly where I should be.”

She turned to him then, finally meeting his eyes she didn’t think she’d yearned to see after all this time. They held no cruelty as they bore into her own deeply, none at all that she’d seen in so many demons. No bloodlust. No hatred or distaste. None of the things that should have made it easy to hate him.

And that was the problem. Because it should have been easy. It should have been simple. But it wasn’t… it never had been.

And the fact that he knew that, that he understood, made it all the more unbearable.

“What do you want, Akaza?” she asked, exhaustion slipping into her voice.

There was a pause in between.

“The same thing you do.”

Her heart lurched. And for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. But then it came coursing through her, the feeling of anger. Not at him, but at herself. At whatever foolish part of her had allowed for this to happen.

She sighed, turning her gaze back to the pond. “This is a mistake.”

.“Maybe.”

[Name] felt her pulse steady, like her control was returning. It had been months since the last time. Months since she had allowed herself to think of him. The last time since she had convinced herself she had found peace. But now with his presence beside her, with his voice lingering in the air between them, that fragile peace splintered like brittle glass.

The same thing you do.

The words still echoed in her mind, unraveling the careful distance she had built between herself and the truth. She forced herself to look ahead, to focus on the pond, the water shifting gently beneath the moonlight. Not him. Never him.

“Leave.”

The word left her lips before she could stop it. And she expected him to listen, expected him to step back into the shadows and vanish as he always did. Maybe for certain this time.

But he didn’t. This one time, he didn’t.

Instead, Akaza moved beside her, lowering himself to sit on the engawa. The woman tensed slightly before she forced her head sharply to look at him.

“I said—”

“I refuse.”

She felt something inside her tighten, twisting itself into something excruciating. “You—” Her breath came out unevenly. “You don’t get to decide that.”

He exhaled slowly, those golden orbs of his fixing onto her. “Neither do you.”

Then something inside her snapped. Before she could stop herself, she moved relentlessly, not a single ounce of hesitation within her. She drew her sword in a single motion, the sharp steel slicing through the air and aiming straight for his throat. But in a blur, he blocked it with ease. The force of her strike met the immovable strength of his arm, a gust of wind sweeping between them. Gritting her teeth, she pressed harder, but he didn’t so much as flinch.

“You’re still the same,” Akaza murmured, his voice almost amused.

"Shut the hell up," she hissed, twisting her blade, aiming for another strike, only for him to evade with maddening ease.

Again and again, she attacked. And every time, he dodged, deflected, moved just out of reach. Her frustration mounted, her strikes growing crazier, more desperate. He was toying with her. Making a fool out of her. And it made her furious.

With a sharp inhale, she lunged once more, but this time, Akaza caught her wrist. Not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to stop her.

She couldn’t catch her breath, the sudden contact sending a shock through her system. His grip was firm and steady, but there was no hostility in it. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body incredibly tense, her pulse hammering in her ears.

“Why are you fighting so hard?” He said softly, as if speaking to a wounded animal.

It was a simple question — one that required a not-so-simple response.

With it, she felt her throat begin to tighten.

“Because I have to.”

His hold on her wrist loosened, but he didn’t let go. “You don’t,” he said. “Not with me.”

She wanted to tear herself away. She wanted to deny everything — to shut him out, to pretend none of this was real. That it was all just an agonizing nightmare.

But she couldn’t move. She felt like she couldn’t breathe or think.

Until, something in her shattered.

The rage, the grief, the weight of a thousand unanswered thoughts; it all shattered in a way she could no longer contain. [Name] ripped her wrist free, her breath ragged, and without hesitation, she thrust her sword forward, putting the full force of her body behind it.

This time, he didn’t move.

Steel pierced through his chest, sliding past muscle and bone, sinking deep with a sickening finality that sent a violent tremor through her arms. The impact rattled her to her very core, and for a moment, the world around them stood still.

A piercing inhale left his lips; not a cry, not a gasp of pain — just a breath, one soft and barely audible. His body jerked slightly from the force, and then… nothing.

The scent of blood filled the air.

[Name]’s eyes widened, her pulse thundering in her ears. She had felt it — she felt the give of his ribs — the way her blade had embedded itself into his flesh, the undeniable proof that she had struck true.

And yet, he didn’t fall.

Nor did he push her away.

Nothing but the motion of his hands lifting slowly. And for a moment, she thought he would pry the sword from his chest, wrench it free, defend himself. But he didn’t.

Instead, his fingers curled gently around her wrist, his grip steady; not to stop her, not to retaliate, just to hold her there. Her breath came fast, unevenly while her entire body trembling as warmth seeped between her fingers, staining them red. Her mind screamed at her to pull back, to retreat and get away.

But she couldn’t. Because something in her refused, and she couldn’t bring herself to move.

She stared at him, her vision blurring at the edges, her chest tightening with something unnameable. He wasn’t looking at her with anger. Not with pain. Just something else.

Something far deeper than she ever could have imagined.

“Why—?” she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Akaza let out a slow breath, his voice quieter than ever as his face gave way to something she couldn’t read. “Because you needed it.”

The words hit her like a falling boulder. Something inside her twisted violently as the weight of them sunk far beneath her ribs.

For so long, she had been so sure that this was what she wanted. That if she struck him down, if she ended this, then she could finally be at peace. But now, now that her blade was buried in his chest, now that he stood before her, relentless even in his own ruin, she felt nothing but hollow.

“You let me—” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

His grip on her wrists tightened just slightly, a silent confirmation.

“I told you,” he murmured despite the blood dripping from his lips. “You don’t have to fight me.”

She wanted to recoil. She wanted to deny him, wanted to rip her hands away and leave this moment behind before it consumed her whole. But she couldn’t.

Because the truth was suffocating.

She hadn’t fought him because she hated him. She had fought him because she didn’t. Her stomach churned violently, nausea coiling in her gut as she had finally realized the truth after all this time.

His grip on her wrists loosened, giving her the chance to pull away — to finish it, once and for all. But still, she didn’t move. It wasn’t because she lacked the strength. It wasn’t because she had hesitated. But because deep down, in the part of herself she had tried so desperately to silence — didn’t want to.

[Name]’s breath shuddered out of her, her body betraying her in its obvious trembling. Every instinct screamed at her to finish it, to finish him. It should have been easy. He had let her do it, let her get to this point.

And yet, her hands refused to move.

This unbearable, undeniable truth that neither of them had spoken aloud.

“What do you want, Hashira?” His voice was softer now, lower, as if this closeness was something fragile, something that could break if he spoke too loud.

She didn’t answer him. She already knew the answer, and it terrified her more than anything.

She had stabbed him through the heart. She had taken every ounce of suppressed rage out onto him without relent. And even through all of that, he was still here.

Still hers to kill.

More importantly, still hers to let go.

[Name] swallowed hard, an unbearable ball in her throat. Her fingers went slack against the hilt, the weight of the sword suddenly so heavy. The blade was still buried in his chest, the dark stain of blood blooming across his skin and into his jacket, but he made no effort to remove it. He only watched her, his gaze unbearably piercing.

Akaza sighed calmly, before he finally did what she hadn’t expected. He let her go.

[Name] felt her pulse roar in her ears, her vision swimming. He had let her strike him. Had given her this, as if she had needed the proof, the reassurance that she could do it if she wanted to. And that he would never stop her.

But that wasn’t what this was about, was it? It had never been about whether she could kill him. It was about whether she would.

And she didn’t.

A broken sound escaped her throat, something between a sob and a laugh. She didn’t know what to do with the storm crashing inside her, with the emotions clawing their way to the surface, demanding to be acknowledged.

Akaza shifted, his hand raising slowly to touch her face. But even he hesitated. For the first time since she had drawn her blade against, he was the one uncertain.

His fingers hovered inches from her cheek, as if waiting, giving her the chance to pull away if this was something she didn’t want. But she didn’t. The moment his skin met hers, it felt like something within had cracked open.

His touch was cold, too cold. It should have disgusted her. It should have sent her recoiling and pulling away from him. Instead, her breath stilled, her body going utterly still beneath the weight of his palm. Akaza held his breath, as if he’d grounded himself for that exact moment. His thumb brushed the edge of her cheekbone, so soft it was barely a touch at all.

“Do you understand now?” His voice was low and quiet, but there was something else there, making her throat tighten.

[Name] swallowed hard. She did understand now. She understood it even if he didn’t say it directly.

This wasn’t a battle like the one she’d been fighting with herself all along. This wasn’t something she could fight her way out of.

This was her.

Her fear, her want. Her inability to look at him and see a blood-killing monster when all she could see was him.

She despised him for that. She despised how easily he had stripped her of the armor she had spent years forging around herself. That despite everything, she’d let him do it.

Her eyes shut briefly as she inhaled sharply, tearing herself back and wrenching her sword free from his chest in one swift motion.

Akaza let out a quiet, pained breath at the loss of the steel, his body jerking slightly from the force of it, but he didn’t stumble. Not even as blood seeped from the wound, dark and rich before it healed itself with unnerving speed, closing up as if it had never been there at all.

The weight of it all crashed over her, aching and suffocating. For the first time in a very long time, she had finally broken. She tried to suppress it, she stride so desperately to swallow away the ball forming in her throat. But damn it, it was already too late.

A shuddering breath tore from her lips, her hands began to tremble again as the corners of her eyes stung with blurring vision. Her body had betrayed her at last, with every one of its brick walls crashing down.

And Akaza, he didn’t gloat. He didn’t smirk in his own amusement, nor did he use this moment to prove himself right. He just stood there, like he always did.

[Name] let out a choked, bitter laugh, though it held no humor. “I hate you,” she whispered, but there was no venom behind her words, nothing but pure exhaustion. Only something dangerously close to surrender. “I really fucking hate you.”

Akaza cocked his head slightly, his lips curling not into an arrogant smirk, but a small, knowing grin. “I know.”

She forced herself to look at him. She wanted to speak — to say something in retort, something cruel — anything that would drive him away for good. But the words never came.

Instead, she just stared at him, like a lost, angry puppy. Even then, there was a sense of an unseen force that fell between them, pressing itself in uncontrollably.

The demon’s eyes flickered across her face, searching, reading her in a way that made her insides knot. His gaze lingered — on her eyes, on the tension in her lips, the unsteadiness in her breath.

She felt like an open book beneath his scrutiny, stripped bare in a way she had spent years avoiding.

Nonetheless, he did nothing.

And that was what hurt the most.

[Name] had convinced herself, that for so long, she didn’t need him, that this pull between them was nothing more than a fleeting, dangerous illusion. But standing here now, trapped in the gravity of his presence, she knew that denial was no longer an option.

“Why did you come back?” She finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

There was a quiet, undeniable softness in Akaza’s eyes — no mask, no deflection like she wanted there to be. No, it was real.

“Because I couldn’t leave without knowing the truth.” His voice was steady, weighted with something deeper than words.

Her pulse stuttered. There it was, his truth. His want for an answer he’d also yearned for all this time… just like she did.

It had been chasing her for so long, lurking in the corners of every fight, every fleeting glance, every moment she had refused to accept. And now, he was forcing her to face it.

Then he took a step closer.

[Name] held her breath as he did. She wanted to back away — she should have distanced herself from him. She should have done anything but stand there, frozen in place before him.

But the truth was, she couldn’t force herself to. And more honestly, she didn’t want to.

And neither did he.

Then, with careful motion, as if afraid she might break — he raised his hand to her face again.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as his fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. Man, did she hate the way her body wanted to give in to him so easily, into his soft, delicate touch.

Even as his fingertips ghosted along the curve of her cheek, did it become too much. His coldness, his nearness, the endearing way he was looking at her. Not as a Demon Slayer, not as a person who should be his enemy, not as the woman or Hashira who fought him.

Just her.

“You’re not alone,” Akaza confessed, his voice like a whisper against her skin. “You never were.”

With every assurance of his words, every layer of the walls she built broke down, brick by brick. But instead of forcing what she felt away, or pushing it down deep inside her heart… she allowed herself to feel it.

To feel this.

The connection between them, tender and sentimental, something neither of them could bring themselves to say but both knew was real.

Then, Akaza’s hand slid down her jaw, his fingers lingering as if debating whether to let go. For a moment, she thought he would.

Until his palm cupped her face.

[Name] sucked in a breath, the beat of her heart stammering greatly. His touch was gentle but unyielding, holding her there in a way that made her want to fall apart.

And when he leaned in, so close that his forehead brushed hers, that his breath mingled with her own — she knew.

There was no turning back now. Her resistance, threadbare and fragile, it unraveled then and there.

Akaza was here now. And as he was for her, so was she for him.

They didn’t move nor did they speak.

The silence between them was heavy, unbearably loud despite the quietness. Their bodies were so close, their breaths becoming uneven, the weight of all the unsaid things pressing in, pressing down. It was too much, and yet at the same time, it felt like everything they’d been waiting for.

“I’m not going to let you go,” Akaza whispered. “Not again.”

[Name]’s eyes fluttered shut as a single tear slipped down her cheek before she could stop it. But she didn’t pull away.

Because now, she didn’t care anymore.

This — he — was her truth. He had been all this time. And now, there was no fighting it anymore.

She remained still, her body trembling only slightly as Akaza’s cold hand lingered on her cheek, his breath warm against hers.

Her heartbeat was pounding so loudly against her ribs she was sure Akaza could probably hear it. It didn’t help with the way his thumb traced the tear on her cheek — such a gentle touch, too gentle for a power-hungry demon who’d eaten more than hundreds of her kind. But even that didn’t force her away, like it should have from the very beginning.

[Name] blinked rapidly, trying to force the rest of her tears away, but they came anyway.

She tried to look away out of embarrassment, to pull herself back together, but his hand tilted her chin back, refusing to let her escape.

“Don’t hide from me,” he spoke softly. “Let it out.”

Her chest tightened at those words. And so, at his demand, she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

She was so tired.

Tired of fighting. Tired of pushing him away.

His hand slid from her cheek to the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair, holding her there. And then, slowly — gently — he leaned in.

[Name]’s breath stilled, the anticipation crashing over her like an ocean’s wave. She didn’t move from him, not as his lips hovered over hers.

There was a pause until she felt it. The gentlest press of his lips against hers, so soft and delicate — unhurried as he stole the breath from her lungs.

It wasn’t desperate. It wasn’t hungry or reckless. It wasn’t any of that. No, it was nothing short of passionate — intense in a way like Akaza was memorizing her, savoring the weight of her lips against his own, and pulling her deeper into him in a way she didn’t understand — but felt in every fiber of her being.

[Name]’s hands found his shoulders, her fingers curling into the fabric of his vest, gripping him as if she might fall if she let go. Her body, stiff and uncertain at first, began to melt beneath the warmth of his touch.

She didn’t know how to respond.

But she felt everything.

Her grip on his shoulders tightened. She had spent so long resisting, fighting against this pull and against him — but now, as his lips moved against hers with a slowness that was both unbearable and intoxicating, she felt that final barrier within her shatter.

She wasn’t supposed to want this.

She wasn’t supposed to want him.

But gods help her she did.

Akaza’s hand remained at the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair as though he were committing the feel of it to his memory, as though he never wanted to forget. He kissed her with a tenderness that unraveled her entirely, each movement of their lips coaxing — like he was giving her every chance to pull away.

But she didn’t. Of course she didn’t.

The warmth of him had seeped into her, and she didn’t want to let any of it escape.

When they finally parted, [Name] sucked in a shaky breath, her forehead resting against his. Her chest was heaving, her body unsteady, but she didn’t let go — and he didn’t either.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to find some semblance of control, but it was impossible. Not when his touch lingered against her skin, not when she could still feel the imprint of his lips against hers.

His thumb brushed against her jaw, tracing slow, reverent circles, and his voice — oh, his voice — low and rough with something dangerously close to emotion had broken through the silence.

“You don’t have to be afraid.”

[Name] scoffed, a bitter laugh catching in her throat. Afraid? She had fought demons. She had walked through blood-soaked battlefields. She had stood at death’s door more times than she could count.

But this — this feeling, this raw and aching need — was more petrifying than any of it.

She swallowed hard, her gaze averting away. “You don’t understand.”

Akaza tilted his head slightly, his fingers still tracing along her jaw. “Then tell me.”

She opened her mouth, the words forming at the tip of her tongue — I can’t lose you. I can’t care for you. I can’t survive this if I do.

But she couldn’t say them.

Akaza exhaled, a sound so soft, so knowing, that it sent another shiver through her. His grip on her waist tightened ever-so slightly, just enough for her to feel the weight of it.

“[Name].”

Her name — her true name — fell from his lips like something sacred.

“I don’t want to be just another regret to you.”

She shook her head, a small laugh escaping her as tears stung the corners of her eyes. And again, another tear slipped before she could stop it. But this time, she didn’t turn away from him — didn’t hide.

And when Akaza leaned in again, pressing another slow, lingering kiss against her lips, she didn’t fight it.

She kissed him back.

And just like that, she let herself fall, deeper and deeper still into the whirlwind of feelings she had long suppressed, slowly as their lips moved in perfect rhythm.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him close, pressing herself against him. He was cold, yet warm all the same — solid beneath her hands, anchoring her to this moment, to him. The tenderness of the kiss had deepened, something more urgent beginning to stir between them.

A wave of heat spread through her chest, her skin tingling at every touch, every movement. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he held her — like he was giving her everything, like there was nothing left to hold back.

[Name] parted her lips slightly, and the moment she did, she swore she felt her soul nearly leaving her body. With newfound access, the kiss was no longer slow and sensual — instead, it turned heated and desperate, like they had both been waiting for this for so damned long.

She felt him now, really felt him, the growing erection straining against his pants and pressing insistently against her clothed intimacy. The warmth in her veins spread to her limbs, the tension of months coming undone, as though a dam had burst, and the pent-up desire came flooding out, traveling straight to her core.

The warmth of his breath against her skin, the way his hands gripped her waist, pulling her in, refusing to let even the smallest space remain between them. His touch was possessive, not forceful — more needing rather than taking. It was as if letting her go was simply not an option.

[Name] responded in kind, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him impossibly closer, as if she could disappear into him entirely. Their tongues moved in an unrelenting rhythm, a dance of both heat and urgency. [Name] let out a quiet, almost inaudible sigh against his lips, like she had been holding her breath for far too long.

Akaza’s breathing was ragged now, uneven, matching the frantic pulse thrumming beneath her skin.

She pulled away briefly, gasping for air, her fingers clutching at his vest as her chest heaved. The intensity of the kiss left her dizzy, her knees buckling beneath her. But Akaza was quick to catch her, keeping her from falling.

Her face was already flushed from their embrace, and now, even more so as she muttered a breathless, embarrassed apology, trying to regain her composure. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t apologize,” Akaza interrupted, his voice low and husk.

Slowly, he eased them both down, bringing himself to kneel as he hoisted her onto his lap, her legs settling against his hips. The shift in position sent a shiver down her spine. Her breath caught, her body tensing at the newfound closeness.

If she hadn’t felt it enough before, well, she certainly did now — the solid warmth of him beneath her, the way his hands gripped her waist, holding her there like he had no intention of letting go.

[Name] swallowed hard, willing herself to suppress the soft sound threatening to escape her lips, her body betraying just how much she was losing herself to him.

But even then, Akaza was far from finished. He guided her back against the floorboards, his touch careful and gentle — like she was something precious, something fragile. And she let him, trusting his movements as he shifted himself over her, his weight barely pressing against her yet grounding her all the same.

His eyes roamed over her, tracing the shape of her face, lingering on her lips, then drifting lower — over the exposed skin of her neck, the rise and fall of her chest, the subtle curves hinted at beneath the fabric of her uniform. He didn’t speak, and he sure as hell didn’t need to. His gaze alone was enough to make her get nervous.

Heat crept up her neck, a flush spreading across her skin as she realized how intently he was looking at her. The silence stretched between them, thick with something unspoken, something she wasn’t sure she was ready to name.

“Stop that,” she mumbled, her voice laced with shyness and uncertainty. There was no bite to her words, no real protest — just the overwhelming feeling of being seen in a way she never had before.

“Why?” He smirked, a low chuckle escaping his lips at her sudden shyness. “Am I not allowed to admire the woman dearest to me?”

[Name] rolled her eyes, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You can do that by finishing what you started, Upper Three.” Her tone shifted then, her face growing serious, though a flicker of amusement still danced in her eyes.

Then, his hand drifted to her covered chest, fingers grazing the button of her jacket before tugging at it — yet he didn’t undo it. Instead, his eyes lifted again to meet her own, searching for permission. In a silent plea, her expression softened, and with a small nod, she gave it.

He didn’t waste another second, his fingers slipped each button through its hole, undoing them one by one until her upper half lay fully exposed to him. [Name] sighed as the cool air kissed her skin, sending a trail of goosebumps across her body while her buds hardened. Then, he reached for the belt of her bakama, loosening it just enough to slide everything off completely. She let him, even lifting before her bare skin met the cold wooden boards.

She hissed at the chill, earning an amused chuckle from Akaza.

“You know, demons don’t get cold.”

He watched her with a knowing look she knew too damn well. Especially in regard to what he was implying.

“So, why don’t you—”

“Don’t start,” [Name] cut him off before he could finish.

“Just saying.”

And there she lay, fully exposed to him, and Akaza couldn’t have asked for anything more. His eyes swept over her — not with lust, no, nothing like that — but with pure admiration. As if he were worshipping her very existence, memorizing every inch and color of her skin — the marks, the scars from countless battles, the curves, the beauty — engraving it all into his memory forever.

Her face reddened slightly, flustered under his intense gaze. “Akaza—”

“Just let me admire you.”

Soon enough, he leaned in, his lips finding her neck, trailing impossibly soft kisses along her sensitive skin. Every kiss of his was wet and slow, the warmth of his lips leaving behind a tingly, cool trail that made her shiver with want as he got closer and closer to her chest. [Name]’s grip on his shoulders tightened as her body instinctively arched into him, craving more.

His mouth moved with purpose, while his hand slid up to cup her breast, his fingers kneading it with gentle reverence. And at the same time, his thumb brushed lightly over the delicate bud of her nipple, sending a shiver of pleasure through her.

The touch sparked a soft moan from her lips, a whispered implication of the delight that was building inside her.

The sound she made ignited something deep within him. And as his mouth traveled lower, pressing kisses against her other breast before closing in on the hardened peak — the scent of her growing arousal reached him, sending a shudder through his body. His length throbbed at the thought of being buried deep inside her — if she’d let him. Oh, how he hoped she would.

His tongue flicked over her bud, drawing a moan louder than she had realized before he took the entire areola into his mouth, suckling it gently. Purposefully, he pressed his hardened cock against her soaked cunt, the sudden contact making her gasp.

Her thighs instinctively tightened around him, and she bit down on her knuckles, struggling to stifle the whimpers and moans threatening to spill from her lips.

He noticed, releasing her as he reached for her wrist in protest.

“Don’t,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest. “I want to hear you. I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.” His gold eyes locked onto hers, filled with unspoken desire. “Please… don’t hide your sounds from me.”

“Akaza…” she breathed, the sound of his name slipping from her lips as a soft plea and compliance.

His name on her tongue, his hands on her skin — it was too much, too overwhelming, and yet she couldn’t stop. The world outside of them, everything she had once believed, everything she had fought for — it all seemed irrelevant now.

It was just the two of them, here, in this moment, consumed by something neither of them had expected, something neither of them could escape.

Then his lips trailed back up to hers, claiming them once more in a deep, searing kiss. She melted into it, into him, as though she had no control over her own body anymore. She didn’t want control. She wanted this. She wanted him, so so badly.

But even as she gave in, as she let herself be swept away by the heat of the moment, a quiet voice in the back of her mind still whispered to her. This was dangerous.

She broke the kiss, gasping a desperate plea. “Mm, Akaza...”

He knew exactly what she wanted. And oh, how badly he wanted to give it to her — because she deserved nothing less than the most mind-shattering pleasure of her life. And he would give it to her… but not just yet.

“Almost,” he mumbled in promise. His lips found her neck once more, trailing down her chest, over her sternum, and lower still — until he hovered just above her navel, dangerously close to where she needed him most.

In an agonizingly slow pace, he kissed his way down her body, nearing her thighs but avoiding the one place she wanted him to be. Each kiss danced around the sensitive area, teasing her further. [Name] could feel her patience beginning to fray, her hips bucking desperately, seeking any kind of friction against her pulsing clit.

“So eager,” Akaza teased, flashing a wicked grin. And gods, how she ached to fuck that grin off his face.

“Don’t tease me,” she complained, pulling his head between her thighs until he effortlessly pried them apart with his hands.

He hovered just above her, his breath hot against her wetness as he inhaled her intoxicating scent. "As you wish," he whispered, his voice dark with intent.

As she directed, Akaza's tongue traced a languid path from the entrance of her pussy to her clit, circling the sensitive bud with intentional slowness before his lips closed around it, sucking with a ferocity that bordered on desperation. Instantly, the sensation became almost too much to bear, [Name]’s hand instinctively flying to his head, her fingers tangling in his hair as her hips bucked wildly, seeking to break free from the restraint of his grip.

But Akaza was nothing short of relentless, his hands pinning her down, holding her in place as he continued to lavish attention on her clit. Her body thrashed against his hand, her moans and whimpers rising to a fevered pitch, a symphony of sound that was both desperate and pleading.

The air was thick with strain, heavy with the weight of her desire as Akaza's mouth worked its magic, drawing her closer to the edge of ecstasy with every passing moment.

"...f-fuck," she whimpered, her voice trembling as she struggled to restrain herself from grinding her hips into his face. The lewd sounds of his slurping and sucking only seemed to intensify her arousal, making her wetter and more eager for release.

Akaza, meanwhile, was consumed by his own passion for her. He couldn't get enough of her taste, which was sweeter and more intoxicating than anything he'd ever experienced before. The flavor of her was like a rich, heady wine, and he was drunk on it, craving more with every passing moment.

She was wet for him, and only him, and that knowledge only added to his arousal. He'd consumed the blood of many humans before, but none had ever tasted as good as she did. In fact, her flavor was almost as intoxicating as the rare and coveted blood of the marechi, a delicacy among his kind.

He was determined to savor every last drop of her, to drink in her essence and satisfy her desires, no matter how long it took. The thought of stopping was unbearable, and he knew he wouldn't be able to tear himself away until she was fully satisfied.

"So good," he moaned, his voice muffled against her skin as he shifted his attention to her opening. His hand slid upwards, his thumb finding her clit and rubbing it in gentle, insistent circles.

The sensation was becoming increasingly overwhelming, and she felt herself teetering on the edge of release.

"H-Hah..." she gasped, her breath catching in her throat as her body began to tense. "Gonna cum... A-Akaza," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own ragged breathing. Her hips were moving of their own accord, thrusting upwards to meet his tongue as her climax began to build.

The feeling was intense, all-consuming, and she knew she was on the verge of losing control completely.

As he heard her words, Akaza's movements became more frenzied, his desire to bring her to climax overriding all else. He rubbed her bud with a ferocious intensity, his thumb moving in rapid, insistent circles as his tongue thrust deeper into her, stroking her inner walls with a passionate abandon.

[Name]’s eyes rolled back in her head, her vision blurring as white spots danced before her eyes.

"C-Cumming," she cried out. "Akaza, I'm cumming!"

The words were torn from her lips as her body began to shudder, the first tremors of her orgasm rippling through her like a gathering storm.

At last, her body surrendered to the wave of release, shuddering and convulsing as the crashing tide of pleasure swept over her. Her juices flowed freely, flooding Akaza's mouth with a warm, sticky torrent. He was ready, his lips and tongue working tirelessly to capture every last drop, refusing to waste a single moment of this shared pleasure.

As he savored the last drops of her essence, his own desire reached a boiling point, his erection straining painfully against the confines of his pants.

Yet, he restrained himself, waiting for [Name] to catch her breath as he gently released her trembling legs from his shoulders. His fingers idly drew circles on the skin of her thighs as he shifted into a sitting position, his eyes never leaving hers.

But rather than wait for him to make the next move, [Name]’s yearning proved to be more impatient. Her legs suddenly wrapped around his torso, pulling him closer as she drew him into a fierce, passionate embrace.

Her face was flushed with need, her eyes burning with an unspoken want that left no doubt about her intentions. Though she didn't utter a word, her gaze spoke volumes, conveying a sense of urgency and longing that Akaza couldn't ignore.

Without hesitation, he surrendered to their mutual pining, his hands swiftly moving to loosen the lace of his pants. He shoved them down, his cock springing free as [Name] watched with hooded eyes, her gaze focused on the rigid length of him.

It stood rock solid against his navel, already glistening with precum, a testament of his waning. [Name]’s eyes didn’t break, her attention riveted on his erection as she teasingly widened her legs, inviting him in.

"Seems like I wasn't the only one who was impatient," the words dripping with a sultry teasing, her voice was husky with desire as she spoke.

Akaza remained silent. But damn did the sound of her voice, the sight of her glistening before him send a sharp pulse of heat straight to the tip of his cock.

And again, he leaned over her, his arms caging her him as she felt him brush against her inner thigh. He settled himself to rest over the folds of her glistening pussy, the warmth of her body enveloping him. As he made contact with her skin, his breath hitched in his throat, and he couldn't help but let out a low, husky groan. He began to rub his dick between her wetness, the friction and moisture combining to lubricate himself.

"So wet," Akaza said, his voice low and sultry, as he continued to tease himself against her. "I can feel how much you want me, how much you need me."

[Name] sighed in desperation, her lips parting slightly as she waited for him to claim her. Her hands rose, fingers tracing the contours of his face, her touch sending a shiver down his spine.

"I've wanted you for so long," she expressed, her voice barely louder than their heavy breaths entwining in the space between them.

"And you have no idea how long I've craved you," Akaza admitted back, positioning himself at her entrance.

But he didn’t move forward just yet. Instead, he searched her face for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of doubt that might make him stop. But there was none. No fear, no regret — only a quiet tenderness in her eyes, a trust so deep it left him breathless.

And that… that told him everything.

"Please," she whispered, a soft, desperate plea.

It was all he needed.

“If it becomes too much, tell me, and I’ll stop,” he assured her, placing kisses along her neck and collarbone as he slowly pressed himself inside her with a suck of his breath.

[Name]’s breath hitched, sensitive from her earlier release, her body tensing as he stretched her inch by inch, the overwhelming sensation threatening to spill over into tears.

Sensing her struggle, Akaza stilled, refusing to push any further despite his body wanting to fight against it. Instead, he pressed tender kisses to her face, his touch full of quiet reassurance. But before he could speak, he felt her legs wrap around his torso, pulling him in completely. His nearly choked, eyes widening in surprise at her boldness.

Pain lingered in her expression as she met his gaze, but instead of hesitation, there was a playful grin.

“I’ve felt worse,” she reassured. “So please… don’t stop.”

In that moment, Akaza was certain — she wanted this, she wanted him. Despite the pain she endured, there was no hesitancy, only that of an unwavering certainty.

At last, once she had adjusted to his length, he began to move. His hips rolled in slow, steady strokes, careful not to push too hard too soon. With each measured thrust, he felt her body gradually relax, molding against him as the tension melted away.

He knew it still hurt — he could see it in the way her brows furrowed whenever he pushed too deep. But soon, the tension eased, giving way to heavier breaths and the sweet, unrestrained sounds slipping from her lips.

Before he knew it, he was moving within her far more easily, though she was still so incredibly tight that it nearly unraveled him right then and there. Her growing wetness only made it worse, the slick heat pulling him in deeper, making his own breathing turn uneven as he felt himself slowly losing control.

“Fuck…” he groaned, his brows drawing together as he captured her lips with his, his teeth clenching at the way her walls fluttered around him in response to every sound he made. “S-So good.”

[Name] moaned into his mouth, her body jolting each time his navel pressed against her clit, sending shivers through her. The contrast of her heated skin against his cool chest only heightened the sensation, her hardened buds brushing against him with every movement. Sweat slicked her body as Akaza moved with growing desperation.

“F-Faster, Akaza,” she pleaded, her head pressing back against the floorboards as coils of release began to build inside her again. She felt incredible — better than she ever imagined — after yearning for him for so long. And now, here they were, consumed by the fire of their own desire, lost in the raw need they had for each other.

She couldn’t have asked for anything more.

Akaza's response was immediate, his hips surging forward as he drove into her with increased urgency. The sounds of skin against skin filled the air as his breath came in sharp gasps, his eyes burning with an intensity that seemed to sear her very soul.

“[Name]," he groaned, his voice cracking with pleasure. "You’re squeezing me… so damn tightly.”

He tried to be gentle, truly, he did. But something primal had completely overridden Akaza’s sense of self. He could feel himself getting closer, and he knew, with certainty, that she was almost there too.

But the closer he got, the worse he waned.

His hands found refuge beneath her ass, hoisting her up by the hips as he kneeled and continued his growing assault deep into her pussy. The sudden change in position sent a jolt of electricity through her body, and she felt herself being lifted to new heights of pleasure.

“O-Oh,” she gasped in uneven whimpers as the sound of slapping skin grew louder, her eyes squeezing shut as she turned away. “Fuck! Gonna cum!” The words tumbled out of her mouth, but Akaza was far from finished.

“Look at me. Don’t hide,” he demanded, his voice straining against his own moans. Then, in an unexpected twist, he threw her legs over his shoulders, leveraging himself forward as he plunged into her impossibly deeper than she’d ever thought was possible.

She nearly screamed, her arms hooking over his triceps as he pressed his forehead against her own. The intimacy of the moment was immense, and she felt herself being drawn into the depths of his eyes — watching every expression he made, every twitch of his face, every flash of pleasure in his eyes.

His movements were desperate, fucking into her like a wild animal, and she felt herself being consumed by the same primal urge. The sound of their bodies crashing together filled the air, a cacophony of skin slapping skin, of heavy breathing, and of desperate gasps.

And that was all it took, all it took as he hit that sweet spongy spot that sent her reeling over the edge.

“I’m cumming—oh fuck, oh fuck, I’m cumming!”

The sensation was like a dam breaking, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over her, sweeping her away on a sea of ecstasy. She felt herself contracting around him, her body milking him for every last drop of his cum, as Akaza's own movements became more frantic, more urgent. He was chasing his own release, and she knew that she was the only one who could give it to him.

She squeezed around his cock, still moving frantically inside her as she rode her orgasm, his hips growing sloppier by the second. The sensation of her inner walls contracting around him was almost too much to bear, and Akaza's control began to slip. He was a man, a demon, possessed, driven by a primal urge to claim her, to fill her with his seed.

Fighting back one deep guttural groan, his voice broke, his breath gasping as he drilled into her one last time. The sound that tore from his throat was raw and animalistic. His body shuddering as his arms reached to wrap tightly, but not too tight, around her twitching form. He held her close, his fingers digging into her skin as he rode out the waves of his own climax.

He came, and he came a lot. Deep inside of her fluttering walls that milked every ounce of cum out of him. The sensation was overpowering, a rush of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

For the first time, Akaza felt himself being drained, his body emptying into hers as she continued to contract around him. It was a feeling of complete surrender, of total release, and he knew that he would never be the same again.

As the last spasms of his orgasm faded away, he collapsed against her, his body spent before his stamina and senses quickly returned, his mind reeling from the intensity of their passion.

He remained still inside her, lifting his head to rest gently on her chest. "Are you... okay?" he asked hesitantly, like a sudden shyness had overtaken him.

[Name] lay there, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, a soft smile curving her lips. "Never better."

They lay in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between them. There was no need for further conversation; their bodies spoke for them, a quiet assurance that everything would be alright.

[Name]’s thoughts drifted to the long months she had spent running from her own heart. She had buried her feelings, hidden them beneath layers of denial, convinced it was easier that way.

It was easier to run.

To replace every ounce of her pain, every ounce of herself that told her these feelings were everything but real. That it was all some sick delusion. And to replace it with something numb.

And it was easier to go, than for her to face all of her pain head on, all alone.

Easier to push away the overwhelming emotions that had clung to her for so long. The fear of letting them consume her had always been stronger than the pull of her wants.

But now, in the stillness of the moment, she realized something — she’d never truly escaped.

This, right here, with him, was where she truly belonged.

Despite the worlds they came from, the roles they were destined to play — Demon Slayer and Demon — she couldn’t ignore the truth that was unfolding before her. They would face each other someday, inevitably, as enemies. It was a harsh reality, one they both understood. But not now. Not in this moment.

For now, they had this. The comfort of one another, the shared sense of peace that seemed impossible in the world they lived in. [Name] pressed her lips gently to his forehead, holding onto the fleeting warmth of the moment.

And for as long as it lasted, she would savor it — this connection, this quiet understanding.

They didn’t need to speak to know. This was their time. And this, was their now.

.

.

.

.

the end.

a/n: Thank you all so so so much for the support from this fic. I can’t believe it gained the attraction that it did, especially as of recent (the infinity castle did something to y’all, huh lmaoooo)

A little back story in pertains to the work is that it was greatly inspired by Linkin Park’s song, Easier to Run. Earlier this year, I was in a bad headspace, with life constantly kicking me in the ass. This song was one that resonated with me deeply, because for me, running away from my problems made it easier instead of facing it head on. But even then, you can’t outrun them forever, and Akaza was an example of that.

Akaza, being my all time favorite character within the demon slayer franchise, drew me to whip this fic up. A story where the main protagonist, the reader, is in deep conflict with her emotions once she begins to realize her feelings towards Akaza. And instead of accepting it, not only because she’s a hashira, but because of the deep resentment she held deep within herself for even thinking of him in that way — a demon, who is a sworn enemy, and an enemy against humanity. It was forbidden, and she knew what was at stake because of it. So what better way than to face her emotions than to run away from them.

He still reminisced on the day he met you in the cafe, your innocent smile sparkling on one of his darker gloomier days. He was rude to you, perhaps even harsh, but you only looked down with a flustered smile and apologized before wishing him a good day. From then on he had been intrigued and drawn towards you. You weren’t as innocent as you looked, but you were still inexperienced with relationships and especially sex. He would change that soon enough. He wanted everything from you. He wanted it all. It was in his nature to be possessive of the things he desired.

“Don’t back out on me now.” Scaramouche called, his lips curving into a small smirk. He approached you after ensuring the cameras were set correctly. He sat at the edge of the bed and ran a smooth hand up and down your shin as you shyly held your legs close to your body. “I want to publish this to my directors site, show millions of people that you’re mine.” He came closer to your face, his lips nearing you as he kissed your head and your hands that were covering your face in embarrassment. “Show millions of people how special you are.” He whispered, his breath warm and seductive, flooding warmth between your legs. “My girlfriend. My lover. The only woman I truly desire. Mine.”

With a shudder at his possessive tone, your hands shyly came from your face, his manipulative words plaguing your mind to obey. Scaramouche could only grin at the way you started to drop your defenses, adoring the way you began to submit. He was hovering over you in seconds, staring down at you hungrily like a savage beast. He had never felt this hungry before. This desperate. This starved for sex. Fuck, you were the love of his life. He couldn’t deny the overwhelming urge to corrupt you into his darkened desires, make you submit to his demands and worship him like he was your life line.

“Atta girl.” He purred softly in praise, slowly grabbing your legs and pulling you down so your butt was flush with his hips. He brought a smooth and warm hand up to your face, cupping your cheek before running his thumb over your lips. “I knew you’d be good for me. You’re always good for me. Aren’t you, doll?” His head craned down, peppering your face with kisses that were starting to make you dizzy. “Y-Yes…” Your shy little voice sent butterflies to his stomach, your cheek nuzzling into his palm that sent a pulse straight to his cock.

“Heh, how adorable.” He muttered to himself, hooded indigo eyes never missing the way you sucked in your lips shyly to answer him. You could feel his hands starting to run up your hips to your breasts, grabbing and massaging the mounds of flesh while his lips left love marks all over your delicate neck. You couldn’t help but release the cutest and sexiest whines he’d ever heard. It made Scaramouche want to fist his cock while he just listened to your cute noises. “Give me more.” He demanded, wanting -no- needing to hear more of your lovely angelic voice.

“H-Hmm… S-Scaramouche, f-feels good, I love you…” Scaramouche grunted, his hands becoming rougher as they slipped through the lingerie to grab your bare skin. His heart skipped a beat at your confession. He relished in the way your nipples hardened at his touch, and the heat that radiated off your body. Had your body always been this warm? Or was he so engrossed in you that his senses were heightened. He inhaled deeply, his eyes almost rolling back at the scent. “Fuck you smell divine.” He exhaled against the flesh of your neck, his tongue hot against your skin, almost searing as he came to leave another purple hickey against your neck.

You arched yourself into his touch, doing nothing but writhing against the bed as he left possessive love marks while his hands skillful worked over your breasts. He pulled away slightly, licking over the inflamed skin from the indents of his teeth before pulling away completely. You looked gorgeous underneath him, the lingerie you took 15 minutes to put on was now messy and loose around your chest. He could feel a twitch in his cock when he made eye contact with you. A cute and adorable look of need and shameful desire clouding your once innocent eyes.

“Do you want more?” Scaramouche questioned, his hands coming from your breasts down to your waist, rubbing slow circles under your ribcage. He never took his eyes off you, he couldn’t even if he tried. His lips quirked into a sly smile when you nodded shyly. “Use your words, doll. There’s no need to be shy around me.” He came close to your face, his fingers wrapping around your jaw to hold your face steady. Your eyes were lidded in anticipation, a soft whimper escaping your throat as he came closer. “Tell me, what do you want from me? What do you want me to do to you?”

“I… uhm…” Your cheeks were pink, glancing between his lustful, hungry eyes and his soft pink lips. He knew exactly what you wanted, but hearing you say it was so much hotter. “Can… can you kiss me?” His fingers traced your jawline before tilting your head up, his nose brushing against yours. “Of course. What my girl wants… she gets.” He pressed his lips against yours, swallowing up your soft sighs of bliss as his tongue dominated your mouth. He couldn’t just kiss you, he had to touch you too. His hands were hot, spreading your legs to slot himself between, making you whine out in embarrassment.

“Heh, you’re so cute, you know that?” Scaramouche chuckled darkly, cupping the underside of your breasts and squishing them together. His hips shifted, pressing his bulge against the thin string of fabric that pathetically guarded your pussy. You gasped in surprise, head shooting up to look down at the generous bulge in his black ripped jeans. “Don’t worry.” He reassured. “I’ll be gentle, at the start.” The end of his sentence had you shivering, anxiously watching as his hands pulled away to unbuckle and unbutton his jeans, pushing the denim down and off his legs and tossed somewhere unimportant.

“I’ve… never seen one before.” You admitted to him, shamelessly staring at the outline of his hard cock in his boxers, drawn to the small wet patch. It was strange, he was suddenly feeling bashful as you stared at it in awe. “Tsk! Stop staring, or else I won’t be as gentle.” You knew of his profession, but chose never to watch any of his films knowing you’d just feel an ache in your heart. Scaramouche was secretly relieved you hadn’t either, he didn’t want you to think he was some sex driven freak. He also didn’t want you comparing your experience or your appearance to some of the fake and whorish women he had sex with on camera. “I-I’m sorry. It… looks like it hurts. Does it?”

Scaramouche couldn’t get enough of your adorable innocence. His lips curled into a sadistic grin, his mind filling with ways he could use your innocence against you. Corrupting your beautiful mind and filling your brain with lies that you’d believe like the back of your hand. “It’s very painful.” He spoke lowly, faking a wince when you even tried to reach out. He loved the way you retracted your hand in worry, the straps of your lingerie sliding down your shoulder as you shifted. “When this happens… you should use your pretty fingers to touch it, and don’t forget to massage the tip. That’s my most sensitive part.”

“O… Okay.” His cheeks grew pink, his eyes darkening at your obedience. He watched like a hawk the way your delicate hands toyed with his waist band before slowly pulling his boxers down to reveal his thick erect cock. Your lips parted in awe, his cock was long and somewhat thick, the tip was pretty and pink, a few generous veins along his shaft and ripe round balls that hung just below. His pubic hair was well groomed and maintained. Oh! And how cute, a little freckle speckled at the tip of his cock by his slit. “You don’t have to drool. You can have it as much as you want, darling.”

You flushed and apologized before slowly reaching your fingers out to circle the tip, surprised at how soft it was to the touch despite being hard as a rock. Scaramouche’s cock twitched under your touch, a glistening pearl of pre-cum bubbling at his slit. His eyes narrowed, his teeth clenching together at your feathery touch. You ran your hand up and down the shaft and over the engorged veins before running your palm up the underside. This earned a shaky breath from your boyfriend, his hands eager to just grab you and use you to get himself off until he was cumming all over you.

But tonight was about you. He had to have some self restraint.

“A-Am I doing okay?” You asked, looking up to watch his facial expressions change along with the heavy rise and fall of his chest. He only gave you a nod in response, his warm hands coming to guide your hand how he liked it. “T-This is good… your hands are so… f-fucking soft. Keep going.” His breathy whines of bliss spurred you to follow his ministrations. You worked your hand over his dick, his pre-cum acting as a lubricant as you twisted your hand, coming to squeeze against the tip harder when you pulled up. Scaramouche moaned deeply, his fingers coming to wrap around your wrist and use your hand to go faster. “Fuck, fuck-!”

The lewd and wet slide of your hand along his cock coupled with your boyfriends low and deep moans and cruses, you could feel yourself getting wetter, fully soaking the thin string of lingerie that threatened to disappear between your wet folds. Scaramouche gripped your wrist tightly, before pulling it off of himself and holding it tightly in the air. You watched with wide eyes as his cock twitched and pulsed, threatening to spill his generous seed all over your abdomen.

“Not yet.” He panted, a thin layer of sweat glistening his forehead. He released your wrist slowly, his hands sliding to tip your chin up towards him. “I want to cum inside that pretty slutty pussy of yours first.” You couldn’t help but swallow thickly, shivering at the way his fingers traced over your jaw and lips. He leaned down quickly, capturing your lips in a wet and passionate kiss before you flopped back onto the bed. His hands grabbed at your wrists once more, holding them above your head with one hand while the other trailed down your body, over your nipples and teasingly down your stomach until he reached the hem of the skimpy lingerie panties.

Scaramouche relished in the way you whimpered, your hips moving up shyly to accept him. He murmured a soft praise against your lips, his fingers slowly drifting into your panties. You could feel the pads of his fingertips run featherlight against your clit, making you arch your back against the mattress and whine into his mouth. Soon his fingers found their way to rub up and down your pussy, groaning deeply as he felt your wet and slick folds. He took careful note in the way your cunt would attempt to suck his fingers in whenever he traced down to your needy hole.

“Heheh, your pussy is so needy.” You could feel him smiling against your lips, his middle finger slowly tracing your hole before easing it inside. He swore his eyes rolled back at the squeeze of your velvety gummy walls. It was hot, so hot he felt his finger would melt right off or drown in the essence of your arousal. Either was fine with him. “Mmff! Scara!” Your legs twitched on either side of him, wrists pulling and aching to grab ahold of something at the strange yet blissful feeling. “What is it? What is it doll? You want another?”

You kept squirming, your chest beginning to heave with your panting. With shy reluctance, you nodded, whimpering as your hips rolled for more friction. He suddenly hooked his finger sharply and abruptoly, causing you to gasp and jerk against his hold. “I taught you better than that, darling. When you want something-“ He began to curl his finger more, slipping a second in during your distraction. “You fucking ask for it.” He punctuated each word with a careful and precise thrust to your sweet spot, sending you reeling. The pace of his fingers slowed, his breath hot and heavy as he chuckled in amusement and arousal at your expressions. “Let’s try again, yeah? What do you want?”

“W-Want another finger… please, Scara?” He felt his heart skip a beat, your face so beautiful and cute he couldn’t help but become more aroused. He wasn’t sure that was even possible, but it was. You had cute little tears in your eyes, looking up at him with complete adoration and devotion. Only he could give you the pleasure you craved. You depended on him in this moment to make you feel good, so good your mind turned to mush and was only filled with thoughts of him. He was no nice guy, he was a greedy and possessive man. You always seemed to bring out the worst in him.

“So fucking pathetic.” He insulted, making your eyes water more at his degradation. He obliged your request, instead adding a third finger and stretching your pussy, getting off on the way you cried and pleaded for him. “You’re mine. This is my pussy. My body. My fucking heart. Not even a hair on your fucking head belongs to you.” His voice was low and husky, a growl reverberating from his chest when he saw tears start to come down your reddened cheeks. He let go of your wrists, pulling and tugging at the lingerie, practically ripping it right off your body so hard it made your skin sore. He pulled his fingers out abruptly, his eyes deep and darkened with an insatiable lust as he stared at the way your arousal stuck to his fingers in sticky strands. “I can’t wait anymore. I’ll claim this pussy until I’m satisfied.”

He had completely forgotten how tonight was solely about you and your first time. His aggressive passion and devotion to you clouding his judgement. Your legs trembled on either side of him, anticipation plaguing your bones, not without a twinge of anxiety though. Scaramouche’s aggressive behavior had turned you on sure, but it also worried you he would be too rough before you were ready for it. Your hand reached out slowly, cupping his warm cheeks gently. His eyes widened slightly, blinking at you in surprise and realization. Sensing his realization you smiled softly, tears still coming fresh in your eyes.

“Please, be gentle… a-at first.” Scaramouche’s eyes softened, his smooth hand coming to hold your hand against his cheek. He turned his head in, kissing your palm before pushing your hands back down gently. “You drive me crazy.” He murmured lowly, his body coming to loom over you. His eyes cast down to his cock, aching and flushed, desperate to feel your gummy walls envelop him completely. Grasping his length, he brought it closer to your pussy, rubbing his leaky tip up and down your lips. You shuddered under his touch, a small whimper coming from you as your lips trembled. “You look so fuckable. You bring out the fucking worst in me.”

“S-Scaramouche.” You called quietly, your own eyes glancing down to the way his tip came and went as he rubbed it up and down your slick cunt. Pressure came to your heat, face flushing darkly as his tip stretched you slightly. “Fuck.” He cursed, his eyes narrowing with his cheeks lighting up in a faint blush. He pulled back slightly, a small and slick pop coming from below as his tip slid out, a small string of your arousal connecting your sexes. He wanted to drill his cock down into you until you were sobbing and begging to cum. No matter the temptation, he wouldn’t hurt you. Not on purpose anyways.

Scaramouche pushed the tip back in, repeating his actions from before as he watched his cock become slick and shiny with your juices. Little by little, he eased his cock inside you. His jaw was clenched, his teeth feeling like they would splinter at how hard he was applying pressure. His mind kept repeating the word “gentle” in order to keep his desires in check. Your pussy was cracking his resolve, his heart beginning to race and stomach churn at the slow way he fucked into you. It didn’t help the lovely and generous expressions and noises you were making for him along with the loud and wet squelching of your sexes.

“S-Scaramouche.” You called his name, whimpering as you moved your hands up to hook under his arms and hold onto his back. “Y-You can do a bit, m-mm, faster, please.” God and you asked so politely for him to fuck you right. He pulled his hips back before snapping his pelvis against yours, groaning deeply at the sudden squeeze around his cock. His cock twitched inside you, making you arch your back at the feel against your walls, his smile becoming sadistic and cruel as he watched you. “You feel me?” He asked darkly, pushing a hand against your stomach firmly before barely pulling out and slamming his hips back to yours, groaning deep in bliss at your twitchy insides. “So deep. You fucking love it don’t you?”

“M-Mhm! Feels-! Feels too good!” You managed to get out, your body trembling as his hips rubbed harshly into yours. The simple grind of his hips to shimmy his cock deeper was euphoric, and the raw squeeze of your body walls had Scaramouche’s head dizzy. He finally started setting a brutal pace, his hips pistoning against you as he felt your body relaxing more and more into his touch to where he could reach deeper. He swore his gooey tip kissed your cervix. “Scaramouche! Scaramouche, Scaramouche, Scaramouche- ahh!”

Scadamluche loved hearing you chant his name like a mantra. His heart hammering harder as he started to focus more and more. Your hair was sprawled on the bed, your body moving in rhythm with his thrusts, your hands holding him tightly, nails digging into his back, and an almost unbearable heat gathering in your stomach. Your eyes were sadly closed, your mouth dropped open to release your unabashed moans of bliss. He reached behind you, grabbing one of the cameras nearby and held it up to get a good view of your expressions and the way your body moves against him. For his personal collection of course. He won’t letting anyone else see a first person POV of his lovely girlfriend’s body. Once he got a few shots he put it back, smirking into the camera with a low moan.

“M-My stomach! Mmm! Somethings c-coming!” You warned, your toes beginning to curl as your legs started quaking. Scaramouche grunted, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder and pinning the other down flat against the bed. His pace became quick, the lewd squelching of your pussy and the harsh smack of skin meeting skin became louder, more pronounced as Scaramouche too neared his climax. “Yeah? Fucking c-cum- haa- for me!” One of his hands dipped down to rub your clit in fast swipes. He could feel you getting tighter, his own abdomen becoming tense with his impending orgasm. “Let me f-feel your pretty -ngh!- pussy milk my cock d-dry… aahhh fuck. Cmon!”

You swore you could see stars, your back arching in white hot pleasure as the knot in your stomach snapped, gushing your sweet nectar all over him. Scaramouche grunted and moaned deeply at your climax, his balls becoming tight as he felt himself about to release. He gave a few more harsh and punctuated thrusts before he was roping his sticky cum inside you, every spurt twitching against your insides and filling you with a warm and full sensation. He rode you both through your orgasm, panting heavily with an occasional groan. A creamy white ring circled his cock, his cum overflowing and squelching out of you.

“Heheh, that was f-fucking amazing.” He collapsed on top of you, savoring the sweaty feel of your skin touching, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. “You… Y-You.. came inside.” Scaramouche rose his head slightly, confused as he looked at you, wondering what you were implying. Your cheeks were rosy, your eyes teary as you looked at him tiredly and worriedly. “Wh-What if I… get pregnant?” That one word sent him spiraling, his cock twitching back to life, his heart beat accelerating as the thought played in his mind over and over again. “E-Eh?! Y-You’re hard again!”

“Pregnant? With my children?” He rose up off you, a dark and deeper lust swirling and sparking in his Indigo eyes. “I like the sound of that. Let’s see if you’ll take my cum more. I’ll breed you so fucking full you’ll be oozing my cum for weeks.” Scaramouche did just that, with the cameras still rolling he put you in various positions, reducing your body to a sweaty, bruised, and cum-covered mess. Tears were stained against your cheeks, drool running down your chin, his or yours, you weren’t even sure anymore. Eventually you passed out from the extent of his lustful assault. “Shit… I pushed her too hard.”

Scaramouche huffed lightly, pulling his cock out of you slowly, his eyes narrowing with a blush on his cheeks as he watched his cum overflow out of your abused and raw cunt, dripping onto the sheets of his bed. He tore his eyes away, turning the cameras off and running a warm bath for you before he carried you in, bathing you gently and carefully. Taking extra care to run a warm washcloth over your bruises and harsh love bites that threatened to bleed again. He changed the bed sheets to the spare ones and tucked you into his sheets, a rare small smile on his face. His lips brushed over your head, slender fingers running through your hair as he held you close to him, letting sleep consume him too.

Bonus:

“T-This is-!” Scaramouche grinned, his legs and arms crossing in pride as his director gawked at the homemade sex tape he made of you and him. “What? Not good?” He knew it was good, he just wanted his bastard of a director to stroke his ego more. His director looked up and swallowed thickly. “I-it’s amazing… your fans will eat this up…” Scaramouche huffed, smirking triumphantly. He leaned forward, putting his finger against the wooden desk with a dark glint in his eyes. “Let’s make a new contract then.” He announced before swiping his phone back. “I’ll continue making these with my lover, and you can publish these. No more sex work with cheap sluts that can’t even hold an IUD in.”

“B-But-“ Scaramouche narrowed his eyes, glaring more. “I didn’t give you permission to speak yet.” He grinned and stood up, placing his hands in his expensive brand name pants. “You can have 40% of whatever these home films make. And I’ll up the stakes. We can perform cam shows once a week. To keep things interesting for you. Does that sound fair? Director.” The director looked up at Scaramouche, knowing that he was at his mercy and currently being manipulated into signing a new contract. He was his best star after all… losing him meant losing most of his revenue. “Fine. We’ll-We’ll make a new contract.”

Scaramouche grinned. “A wise choice. My co-star and I will be back later to sign.”

you’re driving him damn near insane. you look angry and feral, and it’s a look that only the most determined of warriors wear during battle. 

as of right now, you’re determined to kill him, or at least make him give up. the thing is, you’ve clearly underestimated the man who calls himself the 11th fatui harbinger. 

“are you… hard?” something big and firm protrudes through his trousers, and he looks up at you, lips cracking into a smile. 

“right on the money, angel.” his hips thrust upwards once, his mind growing hazy at the buzz of adrenaline flowing through his veins. “you gonna squeeze tighter? i’m quite liking this.”

you scowl at him. “you’re disgusting, tartaglia.”

“it’s ajax, baby,” he manages to say through his lack-of-oxygen induced haze. “you gonna call me that while you’re chokin’ me out?”

god, you hate him. god, god god, you want him dead, but you can’t suppress the feeling of victory washing over you. you managed to make a harbinger hard, and all you had to do was threaten to kill him. “why would i give you that pleasure?”

“you seem to be happy enough sittin’ on my dick and trying to kill me, baby, the least you could do is call me by my real name, no?” he has no bargaining chips here, especially since you might actually kill him cold turkey. “move your hips for me.”

“you’re in no position to be making orders.”

“and you’re in a good enough position to get grinding.” when you swivel your hips in the slightest, his hands twitch, trying his hardest not to grip your ass under your skirt desperately. who even wears a skirt to a fight? “hurry it up. i’m starting to get bored.”

this guy. he’s so fucking annoying, but you can’t help but clench around nothing at the way he looks up at you, eyes hooded and lip quirked up in a smirk as he tries to move his hips to no avail, and suddenly, you’re left with two options;

option one: get the fuck off of him and run as far as humanely possible in the hopes that he won’t catch up to you. 

option two: fuck him, and fuck him. 

it’s a good thing that in situations like these, you like to think primarily with your pussy and not your head.

“ajax!”

“that’s it angel, fuck, you’re doin’ such a good job.”

your skirt is abandoned somewhere in the sparring ring and your breasts spill out of your shirt as you bounce in his lap, eyes squeezed shut and hands latched around his neck, nails digging into its supple flesh. 

oh, he’s liking this. you swear he grows two times bigger every time you squeeze on his neck, and your eyes roll into the back of your head as his tip bumps your cervix. this is the deepest position possible, and he’s hitting you just right, despite being delirious from the lack of oxygen flowing to his brain from your hands around his neck. 

when you decided to fuck him, he gave you one order and one order only; hold on tight. and damn did he give you the ride of your life, because you’re twitching atop him, hands attaching and detaching from his neck as you struggle to keep your consciousness afloat. 

whilst your hands stay wound around his bruised neck, his hands are seemingly everywhere. one moment he’s squeezing your tits through your torn shirt and the next he’s spanking your ass, warning you that he’s going to speed up and that you need to hold on tighter unless you want to fall off. 

“ ‘m close-!” you warn him of your impending orgasm, hands trembling around his neck as he starts to deepen his thrusts. you can barely focus on the look of his face, but the bastard is smiling, his own eyes starting to flutter shut as he starts to see dark spots clouding his vision. ajax is about to pass out, but he doesn’t even deserve such a luxury without feeling you cum all over his cock. 

with what little strength he has left in his arms, he slides his hand from your ass to your clit and gives it tight little slaps, eyes urging you to cum as his mouth drops open in ecstasy. this feeling, having you not only squeeze his throat but his cock too, has him delirious, and he totally thinks he could become completely addicted. 

“cum f’me, angel. come on, c’mon, i wanna fucking feel it, baby…” he uses the last of the oxygen in his lungs to give you one final command, and as ajax blacks out, he feels you squirt on it, plastering your juices all over the floor of the sparring ring before collapsing on top of him. 

in his newly (and partially short lived) vegetative state, his cock pumps you full, his seed leaking out of the creases in your cunt. it takes a couple of seconds for you to come to, and when you do, you’re faced with a sprawled out ajax on the floor, eyes just closed and lips parted gently. 

you panic momentarily because you think you’ve actually killed him, until you see those damn lips of his stretch into a smile. “thank you doll.”

you’re definitely not sparring with this freak again.

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