Ts My Writing Cave

“What’s not fair?”

“That you’re taking care of me.”

He hears you laugh, and he slumps back against the couch, huffing again. 

“It’s not funny,” he murmurs. “I’m serious here.”

“Well, what do you want me to do? Leave you in the izakaya while I’m peacefully sleeping without my husband beside me?”

The thought isn’t too unpleasant for Tsukishima. He’d rather have you here—at home, well-rested—instead of waiting for him

“...Maybe.”

You sigh, though there’s no particular annoyance in your next words, Tsukishima hopes.

“That’s stupid.”

And now that he’s thinking about it, yeah. Maybe that was stupid.

What kind of wife wouldn’t worry for her husband’s well-being while he was out? You’re definitely not that kind.

His glasses slide slightly down his nose, and you’re quick to fix them without asking. He feels your fingers brush his cheek once again in the process.

Tsukishima paused.

“…Hey,” he says.

“Yes?”

“You’re touching my face.”

You hum. “I am.”

He swallows. “Okay.”

You stood straighter and turned to the kitchen, probably for water—you always think ahead like that—and Tsukishima’s eyes followed you automatically. He reaches out without thinking and lightly catches the sleeve of your cardigan.

“…stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say easily.

His grip tightens just a little. “Promise?”

He knows how he probably looks right now. His cheeks are faintly flushed and his eyes are heavy-lidded but longing. Because it’s you—and Tsukishima is ok with looking like this because it’s only for you.

“I promise.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, relieved, and lets go. “I just wanted to check.”

When you returned, you sat beside him and held the glass to his lips. “Drink.”

He obeys, because apparently drunk him is very cooperative. When he’s done, he sighs and leans sideways, his shoulder bumping into yours. He doesn’t move away—simply doesn’t want to. Instead, he adjusts until his head rests against your shoulder, then adjusts again so this time his head rests somewhat uncomfortably on your neck.

He feels you still, then relaxes, one arm coming up to steady him. “You’re very cuddly tonight,” you noted.

He made a negating sound, pressing closer to you. “That’s not true.”

“It is.”

“I’m only like this with you,” he says, like this is an important distinction that must be clarified immediately. “Everyone else is… a bother.”

You laughed. “I’m honored.”

…

“…did you know,” he starts, words careful despite the slur creeping in (he’s in a losing battle against sleep, but he remembers he still has to brush his teeth), “that I think about you a lot?”

“I would hope so. We’re married.”

“Yes, but—” He frowns, clearly struggling to articulate whatever he wanted to say. 

His hand lifts, fingers flexing like he’s trying to grab the right words out of the air. “Like… little things. During the day. I’ll see something stupid—like a cat that looks judgmental—and I’ll think, you would laugh at that. Or when I’m annoyed, I think about how you make tea. You do that thing with the spoon.”

“The thing with the spoon?” You tilt your head, intrigued.

“You tap it twice,” he replies, nodding, very serious. “On the rim. Every time. Even when you don’t need to.”

“…I never noticed that.”

“I notice.”

He shifts on the couch, suddenly restless, hands fidgeting in your embrace. “I’m not good at saying things,” he continues, voice quieter now. “I know that. I think I sound stupid when I try. Or obvious. Or like I’m saying something everyone already knows.”

“Kei…”

“But I love you,” he blurts out, too fast, too—too not very tipsy of him. “Like—really love you. Not in the normal way. In the way where my chest feels weird when you’re tired, and I want to fix it, but I don’t know how. In the way where I want to come home faster just because I know you’re here.”

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“And sometimes I worry,” he admits. “That I don’t say it enough. That you’ll think I don’t feel it as much as I do.”

So this is what it felt like to hold your feelings on your sleeves and hope the other person wouldn’t turn you away because you’re too much or too little.

“Kei, I know.”

He pulls back and looks at you, startled. “You do?”

You nod. “You show it in your own way. A hundred little ways.”

His eyes sting, just a little. He blinks rapidly, scoffing weakly. Since when did he have the time to have tears glossing over his eyes?

“Wow. I’m—” He laughs once, breathy and embarrassed. “I’m way more emotional than I thought.”

“It’s kind of cute,” you tell him.

He huffs. How good you are with the words is just so… so right for him.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“Your secret’s safe.”

He hides his face on your shoulder. His voice comes muffled now. “You’re really patient with me.”

“Someone has to be.”

He knows that. That someone has to be, or else he’d maybe grow old and gray alone, with the world hating him or something.

“…thank you for bringing me home.”

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.

“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 ♡