shin asakura is the kind of man who has a happy trail and doesn’t seem to understand what it does to you. he’s so casually unaware—like when he’s defending sakamoto and his shirt lifts just enough, or when he stretches to put the ramen away and it slips into view, low and soft, leading somewhere your mind really shouldn’t go.

you always look away before you get caught. at least, you think you do.

but tonight, tending to the wound on his chest, you have no choice but to be close. his shirt is gone, tossed aside. his pants hang low on his hips, dangerously low, and he’s watching you with that unreadable expression while you press a warm cloth against the bruised skin.

your eyes aren’t on the injury. not really. they’re fixed lower, drawn helplessly to the line of hair trailing down his abdomen like it’s guiding you somewhere you shouldn’t be staring.

how you wish you could use your mouth to press just below his belly button and keep going… lower, and lower— kissing every piece of him as you tug his pants down and finally… finally get a view, a taste, of his c—

“you know i can hear that, right?”

your hands freeze. your breath catches. you don’t dare look up.

he doesn’t move, doesn’t press. he just lets the silence sit between you, heavy and warm, like he’s giving you time to come back to yourself.

but now you know he knows. and somehow, that makes it worse. or maybe… better.

you were never that explicit with your thoughts.

you always kept them shut, tucked deep in a place his esp couldn’t reach. almost like naguro—quiet, distant, controlled.

but holy fuck.

with just a glimpse, just a slip of your real thoughts, he felt his cock twitch at the idea of you sucking him off.

let’s be honest. he knows you’re attractive. he’s not blind.

he might even have a small crush on you—maybe.

the kind he doesn’t talk about, the kind that lingers in the way his eyes stay on you a second too long, or how he always seems to know when you’re not okay, even before you do.

he watched you work your ass off. trying to be just as good as sakamoto, maybe better. sharper. colder. a real assassin.

until, well…

you decided it was better to keep your idol alive than become him.

and shin?

he never said anything.

just stood beside you. kept reading your thoughts like they were the only way to understand what you wouldn’t say out loud.

but tonight, it’s different.

because you slipped.

and now he knows.

but then shin speaks again, his voice low… breathy almost.

“unless you’d rather show me?”

your breath catches in your throat as the realization of what he just said hits you. shin doesn't move, doesn't react, but the silence between you grows heavy and charged with a new tension.

your eyes remain fixed on that tantalizing trail of hair disappearing into his low-slung pants, your mind reeling with the forbidden images it's conjuring. you know you should look away, should try to regain some semblance of control, but you can't seem to tear your gaze away from the promise of what lies beneath.

your heart races, your pulse pounding in your ears as you weigh your options.

slowly, almost hesitantly, you let the cloth slip from your fingers, your hand trailing down his chest, over his stomach, until your fingertips brush against the waistband of his pants. shin inhales sharply, his abs tightening beneath your touch, but he doesn't stop you. he just watches, his gaze intense and unwavering, as your hand dips lower, your fingers toying with the button of his pants.

emboldened by his lack of resistance, you hook your fingers into his waistband and tug, slowly, teasingly, until the button pops open and the zipper lowers with a soft hiss. shin's pants slip lower, revealing more of that tantalizing trail of hair, disappearing into the shadowed V of his open fly.

unable to resist any longer, you lean in, your lips brushing against his skin, your tongue darting out to taste him. shin inhales sharply, a soft groan escaping his lips as your mouth explores the flesh you've been craving. making his underwear go wet at the kissing through the fabric, you could smell it— the arousal.

how much he wants this as you do.

your thoughts wouldn’t stop now, not even trying to hide them anymore, it was killing him. he couldn’t take it anymore or he would bust in his boxers, and that would been kinda embarrassing to presence as your first moment like this together.

without warning he pulled your hair with one hand, making you squeak as he took off his underwear with the other, and just like that introduced his hard cock on your mouth.

feeling relief as he felt the warm enveloping him as he thrusted mercilessly, completely becoming a new person as he thrusted into you.

you started to tear up, not knowing if it was from happiness or because of how good a dick could feel in your mouth.

you heard him groan, a beautiful sound coming out from him, a sound you produced him, his thrusts because sloppier as his groans turned into moans… and then into whimpers at the feeling of his high reaching his limit.

“oh, yesyesyes, please, keep sucking”

he could hear all the nasty thoughts of your mind racing, how you felt cockdumb, how you were only in the store’s warehouse and lu and sakamoto were most likely hearing…

but he couldn’t care anymore, not when you’re making him feel this good.

with one specific thrust he come undone, his cum filling your mouth, it was too much that when he pulled out cum also painted your face, it was nasty but he couldn’t understand how you looked so beautiful like that.

he was catching his breath as he looked at you and his cock twitched as he stared how happily you were cleaning yourself up by just licking off the rests of him in your face.

he caressed your face, looking at you lovingly…

“i usually don’t do things like this… but before we continue, if you want… would you like to go on a date with me?”

you nodded as you leaned your face on his palm, before freezing up as you both heard two knocks coming from out the room.

“uh… sakamoto is asking if you guys could help us close up?….”

you’d heard the rumors.

sakamoto—the legendary assassin. the man who once racked up an empire of bodies—now playing cashier in a shitty convenience store.

you didn’t believe it at first. but then the bounty dropped. enough to set you up for life.

you knew about him since you were little, your trainers always using him as an example, but never interacted with him, he just stayed as that; as a legend.

not until now well…

so here you were: standing outside the store. you did a double check to the picture— it was the same… dingy. quiet. boring.

you adjusted your coat, hand brushing the hilt of the blade at your hip, then pushed the door open. bell chimed. aisles were empty.

no sakamoto.

but someone was behind the counter— blonde hair. bored expression. manga in hand. his name tag proudly showing the name ‘shin’... definitely not the man you were here to kill.

he looked up. locked eyes with you like he already knew something you didn’t. yeah. he knew who you were.

he didn’t say it. didn’t need to. he’d seen your file once, back when things were louder, bloodier. your name had passed through enough hands. so had your body count. sharp, fast, efficient. and still young. younger than you should’ve been, considering what you’d done.

you weren’t just some bounty-hunter. you were a problem.

and yet, here you were. walking into the store like this was just another job.

you either didn’t know who he was, or you didn’t care.

“we’re closed,” he lied.

you raised an eyebrow. “funny. door was open.”

“store’s still closed.”

you stepped forward, scanning him again. no weapons in sight. no stance. just… casual— “i’m here for sakamoto.”

“he’s not here.”

“where is he?”

“out,” he said. “and you should be gone before he gets back. “there was something in the way he said it. not a threat. not quite.

“are you the guard dog?”

he gave a faint, annoyed smile. “something like that.”

you smirked. “you don’t seem like much.”

he glanced back at his manga, eyes flicking up slowly, like he was already bored of you. “and you seem loud.”

“hm?”

“just a first impression.” 

you smiled sharper. he was pissing you off now… trying to act so cocky when he’s just a worker you thought— instead of replying, you moved. the first hit coming from you.

fast, practiced, your blade flicking out in a clean strike. you expected a stumble. a flinch. anything. but he stepped out of range like he’d been waiting for it. he moved before your blade even left your hand.

you tested him again, a high feint, then a low slash. nothing connected. he blocked like he knew what you were going to do.

you broke off, breathing steady, eyes narrowing. this wasn’t normal.

he said nothing.

you circled him, blade loose in your grip. “you’re not just some worker.”

“never said i was.”

“but you’re protecting him.”

he didn’t answer. silence confirmed it.

you attacked again, more precise this time—thought you’d tricked him with a fake right hook, but he blocked your wrist instead. where you thought to go, not where you actually moved.

he’s fast. sharp. almost elegant. kinda hot, too. his jaw clenched, eye twitching ever so slightly—he flinched. barely noticeable, but it was there.

you froze, realization kicking in. so he’s that guy, the one with the esper. “no way.”

he didn’t blink.

“no fucking way,” you laughed breathlessly. “you’re reading my mind.”

he looked annoyed, like you’d just named the obvious. “not on purpose.”

“bullshit,” you said, stepping closer. “you’ve been inside my head this whole time.”

“you think loud.”

yeah, what can I say when you’re this good at fighting, and blush at the compliments— I’ve never encountered someone like you—  it’s even harder when you’re good looking.

the words slipped out before you could stop them, and you caught the flicker in his eyes. a subtle flush on his cheeks, the briefest hesitation, he was looking away. he wasn’t used to having his thoughts laid bare like that. neither were you.

he shifted, voice rougher than before. “you say a lot.” he blinked, eyes narrowing as if trying to read your mind again, but you just laughed softly. “don’t help it either.”

he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated but weirdly vulnerable. “you’re insufferable.”

“and yet, here you are, still standing.” you tapped the blade at your hip, but your smile softened. “so… what now? you gonna keep protecting sakamoto, or…?” but he just stared at you, it was kinda funny… like he just discovered something, it was like he was surprised.

he stared at you, eyes narrowing but not angry anymore. more… curious. like he was reconsidering everything he thought he knew about himself. but then, the anger came back to his eyes—but not at you. it was directed inward, like he was pissed at himself for letting it happen, for letting his guard down just because some cocky girl with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue gave him a little praise.

it made him feel stupid. soft. weak.

he stood up fast, jaw tight, the air between you suddenly sharper. he looked like he was about to start a new fight—not because he wanted to win, but because he needed control back. needed to reassert himself. prove to himself he wasn’t as easy to unravel as you’d made him.

your hand hovered over your blade, body shifting on instinct. ready. always ready.

but the strike never came.

instead, his hand shot out—rough, fast—and wrapped around your throat, not choking, just holding. grounding. steady. and then, without warning, he kissed you.

not soft. not sweet. desperate. hot with tension and something that had been building the entire time, something he didn’t want to admit. his lips crashed into yours like a punch, like he didn’t know what else to do with himself, like you’d gotten too far into his head and this was the only way to shut you up.

you froze for a second, surprised—because this wasn’t mind reading. this was something else entirely.

it’s kinda hot he just did that out of nowhere to be honest, you never expected it. 

and that’s when you heard it—barely there, soft and unintentional. a breathy little sound, caught somewhere between a sigh and a whimper. it escaped his throat the second the thought crossed your mind.

you felt it against your mouth more than you heard it.

he pulled back immediately, eyes wide, a flicker of horror crossing his face.

you blinked, stunned.

he looked like he’d rather throw himself through the front window than acknowledge that just happened.

“don’t,” he warned, voice low, hoarse.

“did you just—”

“shut up.”

but you couldn’t help the slow grin that curled at your lips. “you totally did.”

he turned away, clearly trying to suppress the thought you could already hear bounce around in his skull—fuck. fuck. i made a sound. she heard it. she liked it.

you tilted your head. “didn’t peg you for the type to whimper.”

“i said shut up.”

“make me…. again.”

he turned back toward you, flushed, jaw clenched, and god—he was so fucked.

you could practically see the war waging in his head. the urge to shut you up (again). the horror of having whimpered. the louder horror of you knowing he whimpered. and then the quieter, deadlier part of him whispering that he kinda wanted to do it again anyway.

he dragged a hand down his face like that might erase the moment, reset the clock. it didn’t.

what would sakamoto even think of him?

getting caught up like this in the middle of the damn store, letting some assassin girl with fast hands and a faster mouth get into his head—and his pants, apparently.

sakamoto had to have had his share of messy stories back in the day, right? right? shin clung to the thought like it might redeem him somehow. sakamoto definitely did worse. definitely.

you watched him spiral in silence for a second, then leaned in with a smirk. “this is way better than trying to kill sakamoto y’know…”

he inhaled sharply, trying—failing—to steel himself. he wasn’t used to this. to someone peeling him open like this. and the worst part? you weren’t even trying that hard. just being cocky. flirty. annoyingly confident.

but damn if it wasn’t working.

you leaned in slightly, voice dropping, teasing but low. “go ahead, read my mind now. see what i’m thinking.”

he hesitated. then did.

and immediately went red.

you didn’t have to say a word. the smirk on your face said it all.

“you’re insane,” he muttered, but his voice had dipped—lower, rougher. he sounded breathless.

you stepped closer, close enough that your chest brushed his, looking up through your lashes like you weren’t the one pushing him into a slow unravel. “but you like it.”

he hated how true that was. how his body betrayed him, pulse hammering, hands twitching at his sides like he didn’t know where to put them.

“i could ruin you,” you said, almost sweet. “and you’d let me.”

he clenched his jaw, eyes dragging over your face like he couldn’t decide whether to push you away or pin you to the counter.

“don’t say that,” he said. it came out quiet. shaky.

“why not?” you leaned in, lips just shy of brushing his. “you already let me in. what’s a little more?”

he didn’t answer.

he just kissed you again—harder this time. no hesitation, no middle ground. teeth, tongue, hands suddenly in your hair, pulling like he wanted to punish you for knowing him too well even for being a stranger.

your back hit the edge of the counter. his hands were on your hips, gripping hard like he didn’t trust himself not to fall apart.

you laughed against his mouth, breath hitching. “looks like someone likes being praised after all.”

he groaned—actually groaned—into your neck.

his hands gripped tighter at your hips, pulling you flush against him. he kissed you harder, teeth scraping against your bottom lip, tongue delving deep into your mouth like he was trying to taste every part of you.

you moaned, fingers tangling in his hair, pressing your body even closer to his. you could feel the hard planes of his chest, the strength in his arms as they held you tight.

he broke the kiss suddenly, panting, eyes dark with desire. "you're trouble," he growled.

you smirked up at him. "and you love it."

he didn't deny it, just leaned in to nip at your jaw, your neck, sending shivers down your spine. his hands slid under your shirt, calloused fingers skimming over the soft skin of your stomach.

"touch me," you whispered, arching into him. "i want to feel you."

he obeyed instantly, his hands cupping your breasts through your bra, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they hardened under his touch. he groaned, low and rough, grinding his hips against yours.

you gasped, head falling back as pleasure flooded through you. your own hands roamed his back, his shoulders, feeling the play of muscle beneath his skin.

"please," he begged, not even sure what he was asking for, just knowing he needed more of you.

he pushed you down onto the counter, hands making quick work of your clothes, leaving you bare and aching for him. he stepped back just long enough to shed his own clothes, revealing a body honed by years of fighting and training.

you drank in the sight of him, hard muscles and sleek lines, scars scattered across his skin like badges of honor. he was gorgeous, powerful, and all yours in this moment.

he blushed at your thoughts again, automatically kneeling between your legs, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, praising you this time, but with actions—moving higher and higher until his breath ghosted over your most sensitive flesh. you whimpered, hands fisting in his hair.

"please," he repeated, "i need you."

he looked up at you through his lashes, eyes blazing with hunger— asking for permission. "go on pretty boy," you purred, and then his mouth was on you, licking and sucking and driving you wild with pleasure.

he played with your clit for a few times with his tongue before he used his thumb to continue playing with it as he explored your insides with your tongue. savoring every taste of you.

“yesyesyes…. so good.” you praised him.

shin moaned against you at your words, the vibrations adding to the pleasure as his tongue delved deeper, exploring every inch of you. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he feasted on you like a man starved.

your back arched off the counter, fingers twisting in his hair, holding him close as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. "just like that," you panted, hips rocking against his face. "don’t stop."

he didn't, doubling his efforts, tongue circling your clit before sucking it between his lips. You cried out, head thrashing, body tensing as your orgasm approached. "shin! I'm gonna - ah!"

your words cut off with a moan as you came hard, your release flooding his mouth. He licked and lapped through it, not letting a single drop go to waste. he only pulled away when your thighs began to tremble.

shin sat up, face glistening with your juices. he looked debauched, eyes glassy with lust, cheeks flushed. he was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

he leaned in to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. it was filthy and intimate and so hot you nearly combusted on the spot.

he really prays sakamoto never sees the store tapes before he gets access to them, or he really will be dead.

"i want you," he breathed against your lips, voice rough with need. “i need to be inside you."

"yes," you agreed, reaching down to stroke his hard length. finally really seeing it. not too long but thick. it was pretty, for sure touching places you’d never reach, his veins just being the cherry on top.

he groaned at the feeling and your thoughts, thrusting into your hand. "fuck me shin. please."

he didn't need to be asked twice. he lifted your hips, notching the head of his cock at your entrance. then he pushed forward, sinking into you in one smooth thrust.

You both moaned at the feeling, stretching and full. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust, before pulling nearly all the way out and slamming back in.

"yes," you hissed, meeting him thrust for thrust. "harder."

he complied eagerly, setting a brutal pace that had the counter creaking beneath you. the store was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your mingled moans.

"ffuck," Shin groaned, his rhythm faltering. "you feel so good. so tight. i’m not gonna last."

"come for me," you encouraged, clenching around him. "i want to feel you let go."

shin let out a low moan as your words drove him over the edge. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you and came hard, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his hot seed.

"fuck, yes," he gasped, his hips jerking with each wave of his release. "take it all."

you could feel his cum flooding your insides, coating your walls, marking you from the inside out. the sensation was so filthy and intimate, sending shivers down your spine.

"shin," you moaned, your pussy clenching around his throbbing cock. "your cum... it feels so good inside me. i want to be filled with you."

shin groaned at your dirty talk, thrusting deeper. 

"fuck, your pussy is milking my cock— a-am I… being i good for you? hah…"

"yes, you’re being such a good boy" you cried out, bucking against him.

his dirty words and the thought of being bred by him sent you over the edge again. You came hard, your pussy squeezing his cock like a vice as he continued to thrust through your orgasm.

"ngh— you're milking me dry," shin whimpered as his own orgasm hit. he slammed into you one last time before spilling his load deep inside you.

you could feel his hot cum flooding your already filled pussy, mixing with the previous load. It was so much, some of it leaking out around his softening cock.

shin collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily as you came down from your high. He nuzzled into your neck, pressing soft kisses to your damp skin.

"look at all that cum," you purred, reaching down to scoop some of it up and spreading it on your fingers. "you filled me up so good, shin."

shin shuddered at your praise, his cock twitching inside you. "you're so beautiful," he whispered. "i never knew... i never thought..."

you cupped his face, thumb brushing his cheekbone— a breathy laugh coming out. "i know," you said softly. "you can take me out on a date now, don’t worry."

"stay with me," he said quietly. "not just tonight, but... stay."

Ever since the incident, Yuji's been... off.

Not sad, not drained or anything like that… just—irritated? On edge? Whatever it is, it’s not like him.

That thing from a few days ago really messed with his head. He’s always been the one in control, you know? He’s not some clueless kid, always considering himself as the dominant —definitely not a virgin. At least… he didn’t think he acted like one with you. He’s had his fair share of fun, nothing serious, and he never really cared for one-night stands.

But after what happened with you in that restroom? Yeah. He’s sure now—he’s not built for “just once.”

It’s been stuck in his head ever since. Flooding his brain. He can’t concentrate, can’t focus.

 And it’s driving him crazy.

You two have been texting ever since the incident, taking things slow, knowing the other, but he swears before every date with you he has to jerk off or he will have a boner in front of you the whole day. And it’s not good. You will edge him even more.

You two have been texting ever since the incident. Slow, steady. Getting to know each other, pretending it’s all casual. But Yuji’s struggling…

Bad.

He swears, every single time before seeing you, he has to jerk off. No choice. If he doesn’t, he’ll be sitting across from you with a damn boner the whole time—just from watching you talk, the way your lips move, that laugh that somehow hits him deeper than it should. It’s like every little thing you do sets something off inside him, a spark he can’t put out no matter how hard he tries.

And even when he does take care of it beforehand, it’s never quite enough. You still manage to edge him without even trying. The way you lean in just a little too close, the brush of your hand that lingers longer than it should, the way your eyes catch his and hold them like a challenge. The way you say his name, low and soft, like you know exactly what you’re doing.

He became angry. But not in a way where he’s angry because they hurt someone he loves, he’s actually pent up.

Embarrassing.

He had to do something about it. He needed to get control back, or else he’d lose his mind. There was no other way. So yeah… he found himself standing outside your apartment, fist halfway raised to knock, heart pounding like crazy.

When the door finally opened—there was Yuji. Breathless, like he’d just run a marathon or fought some kind of battle. His eyes were wide, pupils blown way too big, like his brain was firing off too many signals at once. His face looked mostly numb, like he was trying to keep it together, but if you looked close enough, you’d see that tiny flicker—

That little spark of something else.

Desire? Maybe.

Something like that.

Before you could ask him what was wrong, Yuji kissed you with a desperate, almost feral intensity. His lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding, as if he wanted to devour you whole. One hand fisted in your hair, gripping it tightly, while the other arm wrapped around your waist and yanked your body flush against his.Making youhiss at the sudden change of force.

What happened to the cute guy you were talking with minutes before through the phone? The easy one to fluster, the nervous one?

His heart hammered against your chest, pounding like a drumbeat urging you to surrender. His tongue plunged into your mouth, stroking along yours, tasting every inch of you with a greed that stole your breath. He tasted of desperation and barely restrained lust, a heady combination that made your head spin. And great heavens… You sure liked this new side of Yuji.

As he kissed you, Yuji walked you backwards until your back hit the wall. He pinned you there with his hips, grinding the prominent bulge in his jeans against your core. The thick ridge of his erection throbbed against you, hot and insistent, as if demanding entrance to your body.

Breaking the kiss, Yuji trailed his mouth down the column of your throat, his teeth scraping and nipping at the sensitive skin. He sucked hard on your pulse point, no doubt leaving a mark, branding you as his. His hands roamed your body greedily, squeezing the globes of your ass, pulling your hips more firmly against his straining cock.

"Fuck, I need you," Yuji growled against your neck, his voice rough and ragged with desire. "I can't... I can't control myself around you anymore. It’s your fault You drive me crazy." You never heard him talk like this before, he doesn’t swear much, but hearing his breathy voice tell his lewd thoughts about you made you feel something new.

He rocked his hips forward harshly, the friction sending jolts of pleasure shooting through you. The rough treatment only stoked the heat building between your thighs. You could feel your panties growing damp, your body preparing itself for his claim.

"Tell me you want this too," Yuji demanded, his eyes dark and intense as he stared down at you. There was a challenge in his gaze, a silent command for you to submit to him, to give yourself over to the passion burning between you. "Tell me you need my cock as much as I need your tight little cunt."

Fuck, his dirty talking really got you pent up before he fucked you. You were doomed.

“Y-you're so rough..." you let out a shaky laugh, your cheeks flushed and chest heaving. Yuji's intensity caught you off guard, but you couldn't deny the way your body responded eagerly to his dominant touch.

"I... I do want it," you admitted breathlessly– this was embarrassing, all this time he was the one to be in this position– your voice barely above a whisper. Your face burned with embarrassment, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. "I want you, Yuji. I want to feel you inside me.."

Emboldened by your confession, Yuji crashed his lips against yours once more, kissing you with renewed fervor. He licked into your mouth, swallowing your whimpers of pleasure as he ground his thick bulge insistently against your clothed sex. Your hands fisted in his hair, tugging urgently as you arched your back, craving more of his touch.

Suddenly, Yuji's hands slid under your skirt, gripping your bare ass and hoisting you up. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he carried you towards the bedroom, his intentions clear. He tossed you onto the mattress, crawling over you with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Gonna fuck you so hard," Yuji promised darkly, his voice dripping with lust. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up with my cum until it's dripping out of you."

Something was different with Yuji, he never acted this way, he was a whole new person.

Emboldened by your confession, Yuji crashed his lips against yours once more, kissing you with renewed fervor. He licked into your mouth, swallowing your whimpers of pleasure as he ground his thick bulge insistently against your clothed sex. Your hands fisted in his hair, tugging urgently as you arched your back, craving more of his touch.

Suddenly, Yuji's hands slid under your skirt, gripping your bare ass and hoisting you up. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he carried you towards the bedroom, his intentions clear. He tossed you onto the mattress, crawling over you with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Gonna fuck you so hard," Yuji promised darkly, his voice dripping with lust. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up with my cum until it's dripping out of you. Alright princess?”

He ripped your panties off, baring your glistening folds to his hungry gaze. Then, unable to wait any longer, Yuji thrust two fingers deep into your dripping cunt, pumping them in and out roughly. The obscene sound of your wetness filled the room as he fingered you hard and fast, his thumb circling your sensitive clit.

"Fuck, you're so wet," Yuji groaned, watching your face contort with pleasure. "Such a needy little slut for my cock."

He undid his jeans with one hand, freeing his straining erection. It slapped against his stomach, thick and hard, the swollen head already leaking precum. Yuji gripped himself, stroking his length as he fingered your soaked pussy, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. His fingers played with your clit, while he inserted his cock on your tight hole for his size– making you go dumb at the feeling, his cock was going in and out of each thing. plap! plap! plap! was all the dirty noise that came out from your room with the lewd vocabulary of Yuji, he really was pent up.

You came on his cock as he groaned at the feeling of you squeezing him, fluids coming out of your hole. He was close too, his groans and moans turning into whimpers and hisses. He was feeling like that time. 

He let out spurts after spurts of his cum inside of you, not thinking of pulling out after the emotion consumed him. You swore you could feel it in your belly, how a small bump formed. Or maybe you were too cock drunk.

He was back like the Yuji you met before, watching with curiosity and admiration how your body ejects the liquids of you two. He went for a warm cloth to clean you, giving you small pecks on the parts he left bruises. Giving you a glass of water and changing your clothes.

shin asakura is the kind of man who has a happy trail and doesn’t seem to understand what it does to you. he’s so casually unaware—like when he’s defending sakamoto and his shirt lifts just enough, or when he stretches to put the ramen away and it slips into view, low and soft, leading somewhere your mind really shouldn’t go.

you always look away before you get caught. at least, you think you do.

but tonight, tending to the wound on his chest, you have no choice but to be close. his shirt is gone, tossed aside. his pants hang low on his hips, dangerously low, and he’s watching you with that unreadable expression while you press a warm cloth against the bruised skin.

your eyes aren’t on the injury. not really. they’re fixed lower, drawn helplessly to the line of hair trailing down his abdomen like it’s guiding you somewhere you shouldn’t be staring.

how you wish you could use your mouth to press just below his belly button and keep going… lower, and lower— kissing every piece of him as you tug his pants down and finally… finally get a view, a taste, of his c—

“you know i can hear that, right?”

your hands freeze. your breath catches. you don’t dare look up.

he doesn’t move, doesn’t press. he just lets the silence sit between you, heavy and warm, like he’s giving you time to come back to yourself.

but now you know he knows. and somehow, that makes it worse. or maybe… better.

you were never that explicit with your thoughts.

you always kept them shut, tucked deep in a place his esp couldn’t reach. almost like naguro—quiet, distant, controlled.

but holy fuck.

with just a glimpse, just a slip of your real thoughts, he felt his cock twitch at the idea of you sucking him off.

let’s be honest. he knows you’re attractive. he’s not blind.

he might even have a small crush on you—maybe.

the kind he doesn’t talk about, the kind that lingers in the way his eyes stay on you a second too long, or how he always seems to know when you’re not okay, even before you do.

he watched you work your ass off. trying to be just as good as sakamoto, maybe better. sharper. colder. a real assassin.

until, well…

you decided it was better to keep your idol alive than become him.

and shin?

he never said anything.

just stood beside you. kept reading your thoughts like they were the only way to understand what you wouldn’t say out loud.

but tonight, it’s different.

because you slipped.

and now he knows.

but then shin speaks again, his voice low… breathy almost.

“unless you’d rather show me?”

your breath catches in your throat as the realization of what he just said hits you. shin doesn't move, doesn't react, but the silence between you grows heavy and charged with a new tension.

your eyes remain fixed on that tantalizing trail of hair disappearing into his low-slung pants, your mind reeling with the forbidden images it's conjuring. you know you should look away, should try to regain some semblance of control, but you can't seem to tear your gaze away from the promise of what lies beneath.

your heart races, your pulse pounding in your ears as you weigh your options.

slowly, almost hesitantly, you let the cloth slip from your fingers, your hand trailing down his chest, over his stomach, until your fingertips brush against the waistband of his pants. shin inhales sharply, his abs tightening beneath your touch, but he doesn't stop you. he just watches, his gaze intense and unwavering, as your hand dips lower, your fingers toying with the button of his pants.

emboldened by his lack of resistance, you hook your fingers into his waistband and tug, slowly, teasingly, until the button pops open and the zipper lowers with a soft hiss. shin's pants slip lower, revealing more of that tantalizing trail of hair, disappearing into the shadowed V of his open fly.

unable to resist any longer, you lean in, your lips brushing against his skin, your tongue darting out to taste him. shin inhales sharply, a soft groan escaping his lips as your mouth explores the flesh you've been craving. making his underwear go wet at the kissing through the fabric, you could smell it— the arousal.

how much he wants this as you do.

your thoughts wouldn’t stop now, not even trying to hide them anymore, it was killing him. he couldn’t take it anymore or he would bust in his boxers, and that would been kinda embarrassing to presence as your first moment like this together.

without warning he pulled your hair with one hand, making you squeak as he took off his underwear with the other, and just like that introduced his hard cock on your mouth.

feeling relief as he felt the warm enveloping him as he thrusted mercilessly, completely becoming a new person as he thrusted into you.

you started to tear up, not knowing if it was from happiness or because of how good a dick could feel in your mouth.

you heard him groan, a beautiful sound coming out from him, a sound you produced him, his thrusts because sloppier as his groans turned into moans… and then into whimpers at the feeling of his high reaching his limit.

“oh, yesyesyes, please, keep sucking”

he could hear all the nasty thoughts of your mind racing, how you felt cockdumb, how you were only in the store’s warehouse and lu and sakamoto were most likely hearing…

but he couldn’t care anymore, not when you’re making him feel this good.

with one specific thrust he come undone, his cum filling your mouth, it was too much that when he pulled out cum also painted your face, it was nasty but he couldn’t understand how you looked so beautiful like that.

he was catching his breath as he looked at you and his cock twitched as he stared how happily you were cleaning yourself up by just licking off the rests of him in your face.

he caressed your face, looking at you lovingly…

“i usually don’t do things like this… but before we continue, if you want… would you like to go on a date with me?”

you nodded as you leaned your face on his palm, before freezing up as you both heard two knocks coming from out the room.

“uh… sakamoto is asking if you guys could help us close up?….”

shin asakura is the kind of man who has a happy trail and doesn’t seem to understand what it does to you. he’s so casually unaware—like when he’s defending sakamoto and his shirt lifts just enough, or when he stretches to put the ramen away and it slips into view, low and soft, leading somewhere your mind really shouldn’t go.

you always look away before you get caught. at least, you think you do.

but tonight, tending to the wound on his chest, you have no choice but to be close. his shirt is gone, tossed aside. his pants hang low on his hips, dangerously low, and he’s watching you with that unreadable expression while you press a warm cloth against the bruised skin.

your eyes aren’t on the injury. not really. they’re fixed lower, drawn helplessly to the line of hair trailing down his abdomen like it’s guiding you somewhere you shouldn’t be staring.

how you wish you could use your mouth to press just below his belly button and keep going… lower, and lower— kissing every piece of him as you tug his pants down and finally… finally get a view, a taste, of his c—

“you know i can hear that, right?”

your hands freeze. your breath catches. you don’t dare look up.

he doesn’t move, doesn’t press. he just lets the silence sit between you, heavy and warm, like he’s giving you time to come back to yourself.

but now you know he knows. and somehow, that makes it worse. or maybe… better.

you were never that explicit with your thoughts.

you always kept them shut, tucked deep in a place his esp couldn’t reach. almost like naguro—quiet, distant, controlled.

but holy fuck.

with just a glimpse, just a slip of your real thoughts, he felt his cock twitch at the idea of you sucking him off.

let’s be honest. he knows you’re attractive. he’s not blind.

he might even have a small crush on you—maybe.

the kind he doesn’t talk about, the kind that lingers in the way his eyes stay on you a second too long, or how he always seems to know when you’re not okay, even before you do.

he watched you work your ass off. trying to be just as good as sakamoto, maybe better. sharper. colder. a real assassin.

until, well…

you decided it was better to keep your idol alive than become him.

and shin?

he never said anything.

just stood beside you. kept reading your thoughts like they were the only way to understand what you wouldn’t say out loud.

but tonight, it’s different.

because you slipped.

and now he knows.

but then shin speaks again, his voice low… breathy almost.

“unless you’d rather show me?”

your breath catches in your throat as the realization of what he just said hits you. shin doesn't move, doesn't react, but the silence between you grows heavy and charged with a new tension.

your eyes remain fixed on that tantalizing trail of hair disappearing into his low-slung pants, your mind reeling with the forbidden images it's conjuring. you know you should look away, should try to regain some semblance of control, but you can't seem to tear your gaze away from the promise of what lies beneath.

your heart races, your pulse pounding in your ears as you weigh your options.

slowly, almost hesitantly, you let the cloth slip from your fingers, your hand trailing down his chest, over his stomach, until your fingertips brush against the waistband of his pants. shin inhales sharply, his abs tightening beneath your touch, but he doesn't stop you. he just watches, his gaze intense and unwavering, as your hand dips lower, your fingers toying with the button of his pants.

emboldened by his lack of resistance, you hook your fingers into his waistband and tug, slowly, teasingly, until the button pops open and the zipper lowers with a soft hiss. shin's pants slip lower, revealing more of that tantalizing trail of hair, disappearing into the shadowed V of his open fly.

unable to resist any longer, you lean in, your lips brushing against his skin, your tongue darting out to taste him. shin inhales sharply, a soft groan escaping his lips as your mouth explores the flesh you've been craving. making his underwear go wet at the kissing through the fabric, you could smell it— the arousal.

how much he wants this as you do.

your thoughts wouldn’t stop now, not even trying to hide them anymore, it was killing him. he couldn’t take it anymore or he would bust in his boxers, and that would been kinda embarrassing to presence as your first moment like this together.

without warning he pulled your hair with one hand, making you squeak as he took off his underwear with the other, and just like that introduced his hard cock on your mouth.

feeling relief as he felt the warm enveloping him as he thrusted mercilessly, completely becoming a new person as he thrusted into you.

you started to tear up, not knowing if it was from happiness or because of how good a dick could feel in your mouth.

you heard him groan, a beautiful sound coming out from him, a sound you produced him, his thrusts because sloppier as his groans turned into moans… and then into whimpers at the feeling of his high reaching his limit.

“oh, yesyesyes, please, keep sucking”

he could hear all the nasty thoughts of your mind racing, how you felt cockdumb, how you were only in the store’s warehouse and lu and sakamoto were most likely hearing…

but he couldn’t care anymore, not when you’re making him feel this good.

with one specific thrust he come undone, his cum filling your mouth, it was too much that when he pulled out cum also painted your face, it was nasty but he couldn’t understand how you looked so beautiful like that.

he was catching his breath as he looked at you and his cock twitched as he stared how happily you were cleaning yourself up by just licking off the rests of him in your face.

he caressed your face, looking at you lovingly…

“i usually don’t do things like this… but before we continue, if you want… would you like to go on a date with me?”

you nodded as you leaned your face on his palm, before freezing up as you both heard two knocks coming from out the room.

“uh… sakamoto is asking if you guys could help us close up?….”

Ever since the incident, Yuji's been... off.

Not sad, not drained or anything like that… just—irritated? On edge? Whatever it is, it’s not like him.

That thing from a few days ago really messed with his head. He’s always been the one in control, you know? He’s not some clueless kid, always considering himself as the dominant —definitely not a virgin. At least… he didn’t think he acted like one with you. He’s had his fair share of fun, nothing serious, and he never really cared for one-night stands.

But after what happened with you in that restroom? Yeah. He’s sure now—he’s not built for “just once.”

It’s been stuck in his head ever since. Flooding his brain. He can’t concentrate, can’t focus.

 And it’s driving him crazy.

You two have been texting ever since the incident, taking things slow, knowing the other, but he swears before every date with you he has to jerk off or he will have a boner in front of you the whole day. And it’s not good. You will edge him even more.

You two have been texting ever since the incident. Slow, steady. Getting to know each other, pretending it’s all casual. But Yuji’s struggling…

Bad.

He swears, every single time before seeing you, he has to jerk off. No choice. If he doesn’t, he’ll be sitting across from you with a damn boner the whole time—just from watching you talk, the way your lips move, that laugh that somehow hits him deeper than it should. It’s like every little thing you do sets something off inside him, a spark he can’t put out no matter how hard he tries.

And even when he does take care of it beforehand, it’s never quite enough. You still manage to edge him without even trying. The way you lean in just a little too close, the brush of your hand that lingers longer than it should, the way your eyes catch his and hold them like a challenge. The way you say his name, low and soft, like you know exactly what you’re doing.

He became angry. But not in a way where he’s angry because they hurt someone he loves, he’s actually pent up.

Embarrassing.

He had to do something about it. He needed to get control back, or else he’d lose his mind. There was no other way. So yeah… he found himself standing outside your apartment, fist halfway raised to knock, heart pounding like crazy.

When the door finally opened—there was Yuji. Breathless, like he’d just run a marathon or fought some kind of battle. His eyes were wide, pupils blown way too big, like his brain was firing off too many signals at once. His face looked mostly numb, like he was trying to keep it together, but if you looked close enough, you’d see that tiny flicker—

That little spark of something else.

Desire? Maybe.

Something like that.

Before you could ask him what was wrong, Yuji kissed you with a desperate, almost feral intensity. His lips crashed against yours, hungry and demanding, as if he wanted to devour you whole. One hand fisted in your hair, gripping it tightly, while the other arm wrapped around your waist and yanked your body flush against his.Making youhiss at the sudden change of force.

What happened to the cute guy you were talking with minutes before through the phone? The easy one to fluster, the nervous one?

His heart hammered against your chest, pounding like a drumbeat urging you to surrender. His tongue plunged into your mouth, stroking along yours, tasting every inch of you with a greed that stole your breath. He tasted of desperation and barely restrained lust, a heady combination that made your head spin. And great heavens… You sure liked this new side of Yuji.

As he kissed you, Yuji walked you backwards until your back hit the wall. He pinned you there with his hips, grinding the prominent bulge in his jeans against your core. The thick ridge of his erection throbbed against you, hot and insistent, as if demanding entrance to your body.

Breaking the kiss, Yuji trailed his mouth down the column of your throat, his teeth scraping and nipping at the sensitive skin. He sucked hard on your pulse point, no doubt leaving a mark, branding you as his. His hands roamed your body greedily, squeezing the globes of your ass, pulling your hips more firmly against his straining cock.

"Fuck, I need you," Yuji growled against your neck, his voice rough and ragged with desire. "I can't... I can't control myself around you anymore. It’s your fault You drive me crazy." You never heard him talk like this before, he doesn’t swear much, but hearing his breathy voice tell his lewd thoughts about you made you feel something new.

He rocked his hips forward harshly, the friction sending jolts of pleasure shooting through you. The rough treatment only stoked the heat building between your thighs. You could feel your panties growing damp, your body preparing itself for his claim.

"Tell me you want this too," Yuji demanded, his eyes dark and intense as he stared down at you. There was a challenge in his gaze, a silent command for you to submit to him, to give yourself over to the passion burning between you. "Tell me you need my cock as much as I need your tight little cunt."

Fuck, his dirty talking really got you pent up before he fucked you. You were doomed.

“Y-you're so rough..." you let out a shaky laugh, your cheeks flushed and chest heaving. Yuji's intensity caught you off guard, but you couldn't deny the way your body responded eagerly to his dominant touch.

"I... I do want it," you admitted breathlessly– this was embarrassing, all this time he was the one to be in this position– your voice barely above a whisper. Your face burned with embarrassment, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. "I want you, Yuji. I want to feel you inside me.."

Emboldened by your confession, Yuji crashed his lips against yours once more, kissing you with renewed fervor. He licked into your mouth, swallowing your whimpers of pleasure as he ground his thick bulge insistently against your clothed sex. Your hands fisted in his hair, tugging urgently as you arched your back, craving more of his touch.

Suddenly, Yuji's hands slid under your skirt, gripping your bare ass and hoisting you up. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he carried you towards the bedroom, his intentions clear. He tossed you onto the mattress, crawling over you with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Gonna fuck you so hard," Yuji promised darkly, his voice dripping with lust. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up with my cum until it's dripping out of you."

Something was different with Yuji, he never acted this way, he was a whole new person.

Emboldened by your confession, Yuji crashed his lips against yours once more, kissing you with renewed fervor. He licked into your mouth, swallowing your whimpers of pleasure as he ground his thick bulge insistently against your clothed sex. Your hands fisted in his hair, tugging urgently as you arched your back, craving more of his touch.

Suddenly, Yuji's hands slid under your skirt, gripping your bare ass and hoisting you up. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he carried you towards the bedroom, his intentions clear. He tossed you onto the mattress, crawling over you with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Gonna fuck you so hard," Yuji promised darkly, his voice dripping with lust. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up with my cum until it's dripping out of you. Alright princess?”

He ripped your panties off, baring your glistening folds to his hungry gaze. Then, unable to wait any longer, Yuji thrust two fingers deep into your dripping cunt, pumping them in and out roughly. The obscene sound of your wetness filled the room as he fingered you hard and fast, his thumb circling your sensitive clit.

"Fuck, you're so wet," Yuji groaned, watching your face contort with pleasure. "Such a needy little slut for my cock."

He undid his jeans with one hand, freeing his straining erection. It slapped against his stomach, thick and hard, the swollen head already leaking precum. Yuji gripped himself, stroking his length as he fingered your soaked pussy, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. His fingers played with your clit, while he inserted his cock on your tight hole for his size– making you go dumb at the feeling, his cock was going in and out of each thing. plap! plap! plap! was all the dirty noise that came out from your room with the lewd vocabulary of Yuji, he really was pent up.

You came on his cock as he groaned at the feeling of you squeezing him, fluids coming out of your hole. He was close too, his groans and moans turning into whimpers and hisses. He was feeling like that time. 

He let out spurts after spurts of his cum inside of you, not thinking of pulling out after the emotion consumed him. You swore you could feel it in your belly, how a small bump formed. Or maybe you were too cock drunk.

He was back like the Yuji you met before, watching with curiosity and admiration how your body ejects the liquids of you two. He went for a warm cloth to clean you, giving you small pecks on the parts he left bruises. Giving you a glass of water and changing your clothes.

The air in Silco’s private office was thick with smoke, curling around the dim amber light that spilled from a single lamp. You leaned against the chair, the same old chair you used to sit to just watch the man infront of you start creating what would be the ruin of Zean, his blue eye lifting from the long forgotten documents he was supposedly reading before your entrance— arms crossed, your confidence unwavering despite the sharp gaze he leveled at you— or at least, that’s what you try to pretend.

“It’s been a while,” you said pretending nonchalantly, tilting your head to meet his eyes. “I almost thought you’d forgotten about me, Silco. But here we are.”

He didn’t answer immediately, instead taking a slow drag from his cigar, letting the silence stretch. It was the same with him as always—every move, every glance, carefully calculated to put others on edge. Once, it had worked on you.

Not anymore.

“I don’t forget,” Silco said finally, his voice low and deliberate. “Especially not those who think they can play in my waters without permission.”

You chuckled, a sound that carried a hint of mockery. “Is that what this is about? Permission? I didn’t think you’d care, considering how… insignificant I used to be.”

His eye twitched, just barely, and you knew you’d struck a nerve. It was subtle, but years of knowing him had taught you how to read those tiny cracks in his armor.

“You were a child then,” he said, his tone clipped. “A reckless, naïve—”

“And now?” you interrupted, stepping closer, your confidence cutting through the haze of smoke. “Still think I’m a child, Silco? Because from where I’m standing, I seem to be doing just fine without your approval. Even starting to strike your own success.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His good eye studied you, cold and unblinking, but there was something else there too—something that betrayed his calm exterior.

“You’ve built quite the reputation,” he said at last, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “Impressive, even. But reputations don’t protect you when you’re making enemies on all sides. Especially not mine.”

You smiled, slow and sharp. “Funny. I was going to say the same thing to you.”

He laughed, his breathless old laugh bringing the same warm (and rare) feeling to your chest. He looked at you in a way you couldn’t describe, he was always the one you looked up for, not Vander, not Vi, him. Even when everything went to shit.

“You think i’m feeling threatened by your presence here when you’re the one who always kept following around when you were just a clueless teenager trying to survive here?”

He smirked to himself, if you didn’t know him all this years you wouldn’t be able to see it, he took another long drag of his cigarette, making sure to look at you with a tentative face, like he’s testing the waters.

Silco’s smirk lingered as his gaze roamed over you, deliberate and slow. It wasn’t the predatory kind that most in the Undercity wielded like a weapon—no, this was something subtler, more dangerous. He let the silence between you stretch again, his presence pulling the air tight, as if daring you to speak first.

You didn’t.

He leaned back in his chair, the sharp edge of his posture softening just enough to make him seem almost at ease. The movement was calculated, you knew—it always was with him—but the faint trail of smoke curling lazily from his cigar only added to the intimacy of the space.

“You’ve certainly grown,” he said, his tone low and silken, as though the words were more for himself than for you.

It wasn’t a compliment. At least, not entirely. But the way his eye flicked down to where your fingers rested on the edge of his desk, nails tapping a faint rhythm, made you feel as though he was cataloging every inch of you.

“Out of your shadow, I’d say,” you replied smoothly, letting your lips curve into a faint smirk of your own. “Which I imagine doesn’t sit well with you, does it?”

He exhaled another cloud of smoke, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Is that what you think this is? Some petty tantrum over losing control?”

“Isn’t it?” you countered, stepping closer. The glow of the lamp cast a golden hue across your skin as you closed the space between you, slow and deliberate.

You saw his eye darken slightly, his gaze following your movement with the precision of a predator assessing its prey. But he didn’t move away. If anything, the tension between you only seemed to tighten as you came to a stop just shy of touching him.

“Careful,” he murmured, voice dropping to a near whisper. “You’re playing a game you’re not prepared to lose.”

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze without flinching. “Maybe I intend to lose. Maybe I know exactly what I’m doing.”

The sound he made—a low, amused hum—sent a shiver down your spine. He was close enough now that you could smell the faint metallic edge of smoke and shimmer clinging to his suit.

“Do you, though?” he asked, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his desk, the movement drawing you in until there was barely a breath of space between you.

Your pulse quickened, but you refused to look away. His good eye searched yours, his smirk softening into something more dangerous. Not threatening, but something far worse: intrigued.

“You’ve always had fire,” he said softly, the words hanging in the air between you. “But ambition without restraint… That’s a dangerous thing in this world.”

“And yet, here I am,” you shot back, your voice steady, though your chest tightened at the weight of his words.

His gaze dipped briefly—to your lips, before sliding back up to meet your eyes. It was fleeting, but unmistakable.

“You’re bold,” he admitted, his voice dropping further, the gravel in it brushing against your nerves. “But boldness doesn’t mean you can stand the heat when you step into the fire.”

“Maybe,” you said, leaning forward until you were close enough to feel the faint warmth of his breath on your skin, “I just enjoy the burn.”

For the briefest moment, you saw something flicker in his gaze—something he quickly buried behind a sharp inhale and another pull from his cigar. But the tension lingered, coiling tight between you like a rope about to snap.

His eye sharpened as your words hung in the air. That flicker of intrigue you’d seen moments ago twisted into something darker, something colder—and yet impossibly more magnetic.

“You think you’ve got it all figured out,” he said, his voice soft but cutting. “That your rise makes you untouchable. But even kings can fall.”

Your lips parted in a quiet scoff. “Kings fall when they stop watching the board. And as far as I can see, you’re the one sitting comfortably on your throne while the ground beneath you starts to crack.”

His laugh was low, more exhalation than sound, as he leaned back in his chair. “A clever metaphor,” he murmured, his tone almost amused, silently nodding to your point. Who would’ve known you would turn this way, follow his path—and even his words? The realization sparked a strange feeling deep in his stomach, a warm, fuzzy sensation creeping up his neck.

“But let me remind you,” he continued, his voice still smooth, “who built that board you’re so eager to play on.”

“And let me remind you,” you shot back, stepping even closer, “that no one stays untouchable forever—not even you.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the hum of tension between you, the air too thick with smoke and unsaid words. And then he moved.

It wasn’t a grand gesture, not with Silco. He didn’t need one. Instead, he stood, the slow scrape of his chair against the floor sending a chill down your spine. By the time he was upright, he had erased the distance you’d carefully maintained, stepping into your space with a precision that left no room for retreat.

“Careful,” he warned, his voice barely above a whisper. The closeness made it feel like a growl. “You might end up liking the view from your knees.”

You felt your breath hitch before you could stop it. The words struck something deep and primal, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of faltering—even though those words stirred something inside you, a desire, a want… a need.

“And you might find,” you said, voice steady despite the way your heart pounded, “that even from my knees, I can be the one in control.”

Something in his expression shifted—just barely, but you caught it. That sharp, calculating mask cracked for a fraction of a second, and you saw the flicker of frustration—or was it fascination?—beneath it.

He reached for the desk behind you, his hand brushing the edge as he leaned in, caging you against it without ever truly touching you. The faint smell of smoke and ash filled your senses, grounding you even as the tension spiraled. All you could smell was his expensive perfume mixed with the burn of his daily cigarettes—his scent, only his.

Maybe your group was waiting for you, wondering what the hell you were doing with Silco, maybe even planning what to do if he killed you. But the situation you were in now was far better than anything else you’d ever experienced. This was the dirty, dangerous dream of a naïve teenager—the dream you’d always had since the first time you met him. You couldn’t risk losing it now.

“You don’t understand what you’re toying with,” he said, his voice lower now, almost a rasp.

“Don’t I?” you challenged, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “You’re the one who called me here, Silco. So tell me—what exactly are you afraid of?”

The silence that followed was deafening. His eye bore into yours, searching, testing, as though trying to unravel the web you’d spun between the two of you.

And then he smiled. Not the sharp, mocking grin you’d expected, but something slower, quieter—dangerous in its restraint.

“Fear isn’t the word I’d use,” he said, his voice like silk. “But perhaps… curiosity.”

Silco's gaze never wavered from yours as he took a slow, deliberate step forward. There was no more room between you—no space for retreat, no escape from the storm building in the air around you. His scent, his presence, overwhelmed you, filling your lungs and sinking into your skin.

His hand reached up, but this time it wasn't to push you away— it was to lift your chin, gently, but with undeniable force. His touch was cold, his fingers rough against the delicate curve of your jaw, and yet the heat radiating off him burned you alive. You could barely breathe beneath the intensity of his stare.

“I'm curious,” he murmured, voice low and dark, like the very shadows that filled the room. His thumb brushed along your lower lip, soft yet commanding, testing, teasing.

“Do you know what you're asking for?”

Your heart was pounding, but you refused to show weakness. You forced your gaze to stay locked on his, your breath shallow as you leaned into his touch, letting the burn of his fingers draw you closer. You could feel the weight of his presence, the power he exuded, the way it seeped into your very bones.

“I think,” you breathed, voice trembling just slightly, “I'm asking you to show me.”

The words had barely left your lips when his face closed the distance between you, his breath mingling with yours in a shared, heated exhale. His lips hovered above yours, close enough to taste, but he didn't kiss you —no. Instead, he let the anticipation hang, let it build, until you were certain you couldn't take it anymore. Every inch of your skin felt like it was on fire, and all you could think about was the want-the desperate, aching need that had been simmering between you for so long.

“Show you?” he repeated, his voice thick, almost a growl. “You're bold to ask for that.”

Without warning, he pulled you closer, his hand gripping the back of your neck with a quiet authority that made your pulse spike.

His lips finally brushed against yours, a fleeting kiss, as light and delicate as the whisper of a shadow. But that brief touch was enough to send a jolt of heat through your entire body, making your knees threaten to buckle.

Before you could recover, he deepened the kiss-fierce, hungry, as if he'd been waiting for this moment as much as you. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat between you was suffocating, your bodies tangled as the kiss grew more desperate, more urgent. You could feel his heart pounding in sync with yours, the strength in his body pressed against yours, both of you craving something neither could name.

The kiss was a collision of fire and ice, a dangerous dance of control and surrender.

His lips were demanding, possessive, but you matched him, not allowing him to dominate entirely. Every time he pulled back, you followed, chasing him like a moth to a flame.

He pulled away suddenly, leaving you breathless, eyes dark with a mixture of lust and something more complicated-something deeper.

“I've always liked fire,” he rasped, voice rougher now, as though the kiss had burned him just as much as it had you. “But fire... it burns. And you're playing with it.”

You weren't sure if it was the heat of the moment, the way his hands had claimed you, or the raw hunger in his voice-but something inside you snapped.

“I'd say l'm more like an ice burn,” you murmured, your voice dripping with defiance.

Before he could respond, you surged forward, taking control, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that was anything but delicate. 

The hunger between you was instantaneous, primal, as your hands gripped him with a new sense of authority. Silco had always been the one in charge, but now the roles had reversed, and you were the one pulling him closer, pushing him back against the desk with an intensity that left him breathless.

His shock didn't last long. Silco's hands moved, as though to regain control, but you were quicker. You pulled him firmly against you, forcing him to the edge of the desk, caging him there with your body. Your kiss was hungry, urgent, as though you were trying to consume him, and it felt like you were doing just that-biting, tugging, exploring him in ways that left no room for hesitation.

Silco's breath hitched, but this time it wasn't from power-it was from you. You were the one dominating the kiss now, your hands roaming across his chest, your body pressing him down with a quiet strength. He groaned against your lips, caught off guard by your sudden shift, and yet there was no resistance in him now. Only the heat of his body, the fire in his gaze.

His hands found your hips, but you didn't let him move you. You weren't done. Not yet.

“You think you control everything,” you said between kisses, your voice low and teasing.

“But even you can't resist me now.”

His hands tightened on your waist, but he didn't pull you away. Instead, he seemed to surrender to it, to you. His kiss deepened, now one of want-raw and desperate, matching your own intensity as you continued to trap him against the desk.

“Then show me,” he growled against your lips, hands gripping your back, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. “Prove it.” Silco's growl sent a shiver down your spine, his hands tightening on your waist with just enough pressure to remind you exactly who was in charge here. You may have thought you could control the moment, but Silco wasn't one to be caged-or tamed.

The smirk tugging at your lips faltered as his hands moved, sliding up your back and pulling you flush against him. His strength was effortless, his grip commanding, and the air between you seemed to crackle as he tilted his head, his lips grazing yours in a way that sent a jolt of heat through your entire body.

“Mercy?” he murmured, his voice dangerously soft, though his grip on you was anything but. “You seem to be under the impression that I allow mercy.”

The air between you crackled with tension, charged with an electricity that prickled your skin as Silco's hands tightened on your waist. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the power in his grip, and it only fueled the fire burning within you.

"I don't want mercy," you breathed, your voice low and husky, your lips hovering just a hair's breadth from his.

His good eye darkened at your words, a low growl rumbling in his chest that you could feel more than hear. In a swift movement, he grasped your thighs and lifted you onto the desk, his body moving between your legs as he pinned you there with his weight.

The sudden shift left you breathless, your heart pounding wildly as you looked up at him, his face illuminated by the dim amber light of the lamp. His eye searched yours, intense and focused, as if trying to unravel the secrets hidden beneath your skin.

"Careful what you wish for," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous purr. His hand slid up your thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he leaned in closer, his lips ghosting along your jawline. “Who would’ve thought you would turn into this nasty dearly thing huh?”

You shivered at his touch, at the way his breath felt against your skin, hot and heavy with want. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt as you arched into him, desperate for more.

"I'm not afraid of you," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. "Are you?"

His response was a sharp nip to your earlobe, followed by a low chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Oh, I'm not afraid," he murmured, his hand sliding higher, fingers brushing against the hem of your skirt. "But you should be."

You gasped as his fingers pushed under the fabric, trailing fire across your skin as they moved higher and higher. Your head fell back, eyes fluttering closed as you lost yourself in the sensation, in the way his touch ignited every nerve ending in your body.

"Enlighten me, Eye of Zaun.”

Silco's response was a low growl, a sound of pure hunger as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, claiming you, possessing you, as his hands roamed your body with a desperate need.

You moaned into the kiss, your own hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, deeper. The heat between you was suffocating, all-consuming, and you felt like you were drowning in the depths of your own desire.

His hands slipped under your shirt, fingers splaying across your bare skin as he broke the kiss to trail his lips down your neck. You arched into him, head thrown back in ecstasy as he left a path of fire across your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point.

"You want me?" he growled against your skin, one hand sliding up to cup your breast through your bra. "You want to see what I can do to you?"

You nodded frantically, too lost in the sensations to form words. Your body was on fire, every touch of his hands sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

With a low chuckle, Silco's hand deftly unclasped your bra, tossing it aside before his fingers closed around your sensitive peak. You cried out, hips bucking involuntarily as he pinched and rolled the hardening bud between his fingers.

"That's it," he purred, his voice dark with lust. "Let me hear you."

His other hand slipped through your bottoms into your panties, fingers gliding through your slick folds. You were already wet, already aching for him, and he groaned at the feel of you.

“I could practically kill you right now. Cage you— Torture you.” He chuckled as he looked at you, your mind already too lost to answer him. "So ready for me," he murmured, circling your clit with a feather-light touch that had you writhing beneath him. "So desperate."

You couldn't deny it. You were desperate, needy, aching for his touch like nothing you'd ever felt before. This was embarrassing. You always had a crush for the man, but you never stopped this low. Your hands scrabbled at his back, nails leaving crescent marks on his skin as you tried to pull him closer.

"Please," you whimpered, too far gone to care how needy you sounded. "Please, Silco."

“Who’s in control now, dear?”

“F-fuck you Silco.”

“I think it’s the other way around.”  He chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

His fingers slid through your slick folds, teasing, taunting, stoking the fire that burned within you. You were already so wet, so ready for him, and the knowledge only seemed to spur him on.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire. "So desperate for me, so needy."

He circled your clit with a feather-light touch, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You cried out, hips bucking involuntarily as he kept up the maddeningly slow pace.

"Please," you whimpered, too far gone to care how desperate you sounded. "Silco, please..."

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. His fingers continued their torturous dance, dipping inside you, stroking along your inner walls before retreating to circle your clit once more.

"What do you want, dear?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "Tell me what you need."

Your head thrashed on the desk, fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to pull him closer. You were so close, teetering on the edge of release, and yet he kept you there, balanced on a knife's edge.

"I want you," you gasped, your voice breaking on a moan as his fingers curled inside you. "I want your cock, Silco. Please, give it to me."

He groaned at your words, his eye darkening with lust. With a swift movement, he withdrew his fingers from your dripping core, leaving you empty and aching.

"Beg for it," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Beg me to fuck you."

You didn't hesitate, too lost in the throes of your own need to feel anything but the desperate hunger that consumed you.

"Please," you sobbed, your hips rolling shamelessly against him. "Please, Silco, I need your cock. I need you inside me, filling me, fucking me. Please, I'll do anything, just give it to me, give me your cock, please..."

You begged and pleaded, desperate for the touch of his cock, and Silco finally relented. With a low growl, he tugged your panties down your thighs, exposing your dripping core to the cool air of the room. You shivered at the sensation, at the way his eye raked over your body, taking in every inch of your exposed skin.

"So beautiful," he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire. "So perfect."

There was a calculated intensity in his gaze, a sense of purpose that sent a thrill of excitement through you. Silco was a man who knew what he wanted and went after it with unwavering focus.

He pushed your legs apart, settling between your thighs as he freed his cock from the confines of his pants. It sprang forth, hard and thick and already dripping with precum. You licked your lips at the sight, your core clenching with anticipation.

But Silco didn't rush, didn't give in to the desperate hunger that burned between you. Instead, he took his time, his fingers tracing along your slick folds with a maddeningly slow pace. You squirmed beneath his touch, your hips rolling shamelessly as you sought more of him.

"Patience," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "I'll give you what you need, but first, I want to savor every inch of you."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement that left you trembling. Silco was a man who took control, who demanded submission, and the thought of being at his mercy only fueled the fire that burned within you.

With a single, measured thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you wide around his thick length. You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching off the desk as he filled you completely.

But even as he claimed you, there was a detachment in his movements, a sense that he was simply taking what he needed without any real emotional investment. He set a steady pace, his hips rocking against yours with a calculated precision that left you breathless.

Each thrust was designed to push you closer to the edge, to shatter the fragile control you clung to. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place as he used you for his own pleasure. There was no tenderness in his touch, no whispered words of affection or praise. Instead, there was a cold, clinical efficiency to his movements, as if he was simply fulfilling a basic need.

You could feel the coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter in your core, your body responding to his touch despite the lack of emotional connection. Your nails scrabbled at his back, leaving crescent marks on his skin as you tried to pull him closer, to force some kind of reaction from him.

But Silco remained impassive, his eye never leaving yours as he continued to pound into you with a relentless rhythm. His breath came in short, sharp bursts, his jaw clenched tight with the effort of holding back his own release.

You could tell he was close, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more desperate. But still, he didn't give in to the pleasure, didn't let himself fall into the abyss of ecstasy that threatened to consume you both.

With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he found his release. You could feel the hot spurt of his cum filling you, marking you as his own, and a part of you thrilled at the thought of being claimed by him.

As he pulled away, his softening cock slipping from your well-used core, you felt a sudden chill, a sense of abandonment that left you aching for something more. But you knew better than to ask for it, to beg for the affection and tenderness you craved

For a moment, his eye raked over your naked form, taking in the marks he'd left on your skin, the way your body trembled in the aftermath of your shared pleasure.

But then, as quickly as the moment had come, it passed. Silco straightened, his expression closing off and hiding the small bit of tenderness you could see once in him, becoming once again the cold, calculating man you knew him to be.

He passed you some tissues, "Clean yourself up," he ordered, his voice clipped and businesslike. "And don’t forget to tell your group to stay off what it’s not theirs"

With that, he turned and strode towards the door, leaving you lying there on the desk, exposed and vulnerable. You watched him go, a confusing mix of emotions swirling within you. There was the lingering heat of your shared passion, the ache of your body as it remembered his touch. But beneath it all was a growing sense of emptiness, a longing for something more than the cold, clinical coupling you'd just experienced.

You knew Silco was not a man given to tenderness or affection. He was a survivor, a fighter, a man who took what he wanted and moved on without a second thought. And yet, even knowing this, even understanding the futility of your desires, you couldn't help but wish for more.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself up from the desk, wincing slightly as your sore muscles protested the movement. You grabbed your discarded clothes, pulling them on with shaking hands. As you smoothed your clothes, you couldn't help but wonder what would happen next. You were sure this was not the only time you would be here begging for him after all this.