maze

⋆ ˚｡⋆˚➷ ONESHOTS MASTERLIST

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Mixed with older oneshots works. Mostly "character x readers" smuts (wow, shocking)

Genshin Impact

Obey Me!

Twisted Wonderland

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⋆ ˚｡⋆˚➷ LADS ONE SHOTS MASTERLIST

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Various LADS scenarios

⋆ ˚｡⋆˚➷ DAGGERS & KISSES MASTERLIST

♡ Genre/Trope: Dark Romance, Enemies to Lovers

♡ Pairing: Sylus x AFAB Fem!Reader

♡ Tags: (this will be frequently updated)

18+, eventual smut, explicit sexual language, explicit sexual scene, dubious consent, dubcon kissing, dubcon blow jobs, nipple play, cunnillingus, vaginal fingering, penis in vagina sex, creampie, bdsm, handcuffs and blinfolds, semi-public sex, mirror sex, orgasm control, orgasm denial, verbal humiliation, public humiliation, canon divergence au, ooc?, implied drug use, slow romance

♡ Content Warning: Dubious Consent, Minor Violence

♡ Summary:

You are a bounty hunter with a long-standing vendetta against Sylus, the elusive and dangerous leader of the criminal syndicate Onychinus. Years of near-misses and unspoken tension have turned your rivalry into something darker, something charged. When you infiltrate his extravagant birthday gala aboard one of his luxury cruise ships, you're seconds away from finally striking—until everything goes wrong. Drugged and captured, you wake up blindfolded, bound to the bed in his private suite.

⋆ ˚｡⋆˚➷ PROJECT BUNNY MASTERLIST

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♡ Genre/Trope: Dark Romance, Reverse Harem, Camgirl AU

♡ Pairing: LADS LIs x AFAB Fem!Reader

♡ Tags: (this will be frequently updated)

18+, multichapters, second pov, eventual poly, eventual orgy, shameless smut, porn with plot, explicit, gradual shift into darker themes, voyeurism, praise kink, porn, ooc, canon divergence au, sex toys, clothing fetish, cosplay, breeding kink, ddlg (daddy dom/little girl), pet names, live masturbation, power play, strip tease, sex work, camgirl au, streaming culture, orgasm denial, parasocial relationship, obsessive parasocial behavior, dirty talk, stalking tendencies, reader is not mc, reader has a day job, reader is addressed as "Bunny" or "PixelBunny" on stream, masked identities

♡ Content Warning: Dubious Consent, Non-con (maybe later)

♡ Summary:

By day, you're just a broke barista with a caffeine addiction, with a useless degree and a student loan nightmare, and a customer service smile stitched over your burnout. By night, you're Pixel Bunny—a bratty, cosplay-clad camgirl with a shy voice, a pastel aesthetic, and a growing fanbase that keeps your lights on and your legs open.

Except… your five most generous patrons are a little too devoted. Each a stranger with a username and a hard-on for control, slowly bleeding into your real life.

⋆ ˚｡⋆˚➷ TAG LISTS

♡ Daggers & Kisses Tag List

And when you turned the corner—

Her legs were over his shoulders, her back arched off the couch where you had blown him last weekend. His hands dug into her hips, his cock buried so deep inside her it looked like he was trying to crawl inside her body. The necklace you gave him clinked softly against the woman’s throat.

You screamed.

He flinched. Froze. His cum spilled inside her as he turned to see you standing there, fury and heartbreak written in every line of your body.

“Wait—pips—fuck—I didn’t—”

But you were already gone—your sobs grew faint in every step you took away from the place you called your home.

And Caleb? He stood there, still inside the other woman, his mouth parted, your name trembling on his lips like a prayer he’d never get to say again.

*⁀➷ Sylus

The penthouse was unusually quiet, save for the unmistakable, obscene wet sounds from the bedroom.

You were surprised how tender he sounded. “Yeah… just like that. You like my cock, don’t you? Wanna stay stuffed full all night, sweetheart?”

You walked in. And the world stopped.

He was on top of her, red eyes heavy-lidded and glazed with bliss. His silver hair was matted with sweat, jaw clenched, abs flexing as he pumped into her slowly, cruelly, his voice low and full of affection. Affection you thought was only yours.

You had heard him call you those exact words.

She whimpered. He growled as his cum spilled inside her with a hiss, forehead pressing to hers.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered.

Your scream nearly broke the windows. He turned mid-orgasm—caught between the throes of pleasure and the jarring slap of betrayal.

“Shit.” His voice was hoarse. “No. Sweetheart, wait!”

You ran.

And for once, Sylus didn’t chase you.

He just collapsed beside the woman, his orgasm ruined, guilt drowning him like a tide.

He lit a cigarette with trembling fingers and whispered your name like an apology he knew he’d never be able to give you to your face.

*⁀➷ Zayne

You came home late. Exhausted. Expecting him curled up on the couch with those reading glasses sliding down his nose and his stupid herbal tea half-finished beside him.

Instead, you heard it before you saw it. “Oh gods, your pussy’s perfect—so tight—don’t stop clenching like that, f-fuck—so fucking needy.”

Zayne’s voice was gravel and lust. Doctor-smooth. Clinical and debauched.

You thought it was just for you. That you’re the only one who would get to see his vulnerabilities.

You rounded the corner with your keys still in hand, disbelief pulsing through your veins like venom.

He was on his knees on the floor. One hand pressed between the woman's thighs, the other wrapped around her throat like he owned her. His hips were snapping forward, fucking her with practiced precision, eyes half-lidded and mouth parted like he was in a trance. Sweat dripped down his temples.

You’d seen him like this before—with you. And that was the part that shattered you.

“Zayne!? You… you—”

His head snapped toward you. He didn’t stop moving. Couldn’t.

You watched him cum inside her. Watched his perfect, sculpted body tremble with release—and then the horror bloomed in his eyes.

This wasn’t your Zayne. Your stoic yet caring Zayne. No. You couldn’t believe it.

He pulled out like she was poison. “Wait—no—don’t go, please, it wasn’t supposed to be—it’s a miscalculation. Love, please! Don’t leave me.”

You ran.

And behind you, Zayne was still buckling his pants with shaking hands, eyes wild, begging a god he didn’t believe in to reverse time.

*⁀➷ Rafayel

The loft smelled like oil paint and sweat and something more carnal—something wrong.

You barely had time to put your bag down before you heard the rhythmic slap of skin. The guttural groans echoing off studio walls.

Rafayel’s voice was unmistakable.

"Ohhh baby, so fucking good. Goddamn, you feel like heaven. Gonna make me paint you like this. Fuck… fuck me—”

You walked in and your world turned red.

She was bent over the easel, moaning like a whore in heat. Paint smeared across her back. His cock was buried in her from behind, hips moving in tight, desperate circles, and his hands smeared crimson on her hips—was it paint or blood?

You didn’t know. Didn’t care.

You saw his face as he tipped his head back in release. That perfect, devilish smirk crumbling.

“Yes—fuck yesss!”He came.

And then he saw you. “…Cutie?”

He stumbled back, softening inside her, paint dripping from his fingers, heart pounding visibly in his chest.

You screamed.

He didn’t move. Just stared, shellshocked.

Like he’d just killed the only thing he ever truly gave a damn about.

*⁀➷ Xavier

He didn’t hear you come in. Of course not.

He was too busy.

Xavier had her spread open on the low table, her knees bent, wrists pinned by one hand while his other dug into the base of her spine. His hips moved in slow, hungry rolls—deep and deliberate—his face twisted in something close to worship.

“...you feel like her,” he mumbled. “Tight like her... warm... gonna—fuck—”

You heard your own name.

He moaned it despite fucking another woman.

You turned the corner and everything inside you imploded.

Xavier’s blue eyes locked onto yours the moment he came, his cock twitching inside her, body trembling with quiet, explosive release. His mouth opened—but no words came.

You stood frozen.

He pulled out fast—too fast—like his own body disgusted him. The woman whimpered. He ignored her.

“My dear…” He reached for you. You stepped back.

“No. Don’t you dare.”

You left him standing there, cum-slick and terrified, his eyes wide in that innocent way you used to think was sweet.

Now it just looked pathetic.

He sank to his knees, hands covering his face.

When his mouth finally landed between your legs, it was not soft. Sylus licked like he was attempting to slake his thirst—and your cunt was water and he had been crawling through a desert.

Your breath broke into fragmented syllables of his name. Sylus did not rush—of course he did not. Everything he did was calculated, elegant in its cruelty.

Those crimson eyes, intense and sharp, never left yours. Not even as his tongue kept dragging in slow, hypnotic circles over your labia. Each one ended with a flick against your clit that made you gasp—as though he was ringing a bell only he could hear.

Certainly not even when your hips arched off the mattress in response. He only pinned you down harder, one strong arm wrapping beneath your thigh while his other hand splayed over your stomach—holding you in place like a pinned butterfly.

“You always tremble right here,” he murmured, voice sonorous as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin on your mons.

“Sylus, please…”

You reached down to thread your fingers in his hair, but he caught your wrist with maddening ease and pinned it to the mattress beside your hip, fingers firm but never bruising.

“Let me work, sweetheart,” he said, low and amused, breath skimming against your slick cunt. “I’m not finished with you yet.”

He spoke as if you were a decadent feast meant to be devoured by kings, not a writhing, breathless woman beneath his mouth. But then he moaned against you, like your taste was something divine, and your thighs clenched helplessly around his ears.

“Sylus, I’m—” you gasped, already feeling your climax building—sharp and quick and terrifying.

He smiled. That smile should have been illegal.

“You’ll come when I tell you to,” he whispered, lips brushing your folds, the tip of his tongue flicking against your cunt again, this time faster, tighter, ruthlessly precise.

Every flick of his tongue was done to leave you whimpering. Every suck of his lips around your clit came with a wicked gleam in his eye. He was too good at this. It wasn’t fair. He mapped you like a battlefield, found every weak point, and exploited it with finesse.

You didn’t stand a chance.

It didn’t take long before your first orgasm crashed over you, violent and shuddering. Your thighs clamped around his head but he didn’t let up—he growled softly, like your resistance only thrilled him.

Again, one hand gripped your thigh, the other slid up your trembling belly to rest over your sternum, keeping you pinned while he continued to lick and suck like you hadn’t just shattered for him.

“Sylus—fuck—I can’t—” you tried to twist, to move, to escape the overwhelming pleasure spiraling into pain. “Too much—too soon…”

He only hummed in response. The bastard was smiling. You could feel it against your skin.

“Don’t tell me you’re done, sweetheart,” he said, voice ragged, like it physically pained him to lift his mouth from you. His fingers slid in then—two of them, deep and slow, curling just right—and your breath hitched. “Not when you’re still this wet.”

Your body jolted, overstimulation crashing over you in waves—each touch too sharp, each stroke too much. Your second orgasm dragged out of you like a scream in reverse. You clenched around his fingers, thighs clamping against his shoulders. He didn’t flinch.

“Fuck—there it is,” he said against you, the vibration of his voice against your clit making you jolt. “Keep squeezing me like that, and I’ll come without even touching myself.”

No mercy. He did not stop there. You wondered if his jaw even ached.

Sylus was nothing if not indulgent when it comes to your pleasure. His teeth scraped your swollen clitoris, nipping the hooded, overstimulated bud just enough to make your cunt begin squirting around his pumping fingers and hungry mouth.

“Sylus! Oh fuck—please!” You gasped, hips writhing, too much—it was too much—but he lapped through it like he was starving. Like your orgasms had been an appetizer and he was determined to feast.

You tried to pull away but his arms locked tighter, pulling you right back against him.

By the time the third hit—harder, meaner—you were whimpering into your hand, too wrecked to speak, too far gone to beg properly. He licked you through it, slower now, gentler, but no less thorough.

His sharp features contorted into a wolfish pride when he finally pulled back, mouth slick and chin glistening. He leaned over you, bracing himself on one arm, and brushed his knuckles against your cheek.

“You always taste like heaven,” he said, voice low and reverent, like he had just discovered a religion and it wore your body.

You tried to answer. Your lips moved. Nothing came out but a ragged sigh.

Sylus chuckled, kissed the tip of your sweaty nose, and whispered, “And sweetheart, I am feeling religious.”