VAL

✧ how he looks like waking up beside you 😳

even in sleep his body remembered you; his cock was already half hard, pressing insistently against your thigh as he instinctively pulled you closer, long arms wrapping around your waist in a sleepy hug. a soft, needy little hum escaped him when he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, warm breath tickling your skin.

his test was in less than two hours, advanced quantum mechanics, the one he’d been cramming for all week, but right now his hips gave a lazy, unconscious roll against you, that morning wood twitching as if begging for attention.

his eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep, those bright blue irises focusing on you with that shy, eager smile he always wore when he first saw you. “morning, my love…” he murmured, voice raspy and low, one hand already sliding down to gently squeeze your hip while his hard length rubbed slowly against your thigh.

“i know i have that test… but you feel so good right here. just five more minutes? or… maybe ten?” he pressed a lazy kiss to your collarbone, clearly torn between responsibility and the way his body was already craving you again.

✧ videos he'd send you when he misses you, you'll come home as soon as you can, right? ;(

he was supposed to be studying again, but the second you left for the day his focus completely shattered. late at night your phone buzzes with a new video from him. the thumbnail already makes your heart clench: his bedroom dimly lit, him shirtless on the bed you’d been riding him on just hours earlier. When you press play, his voice comes through soft and a little shaky, eyes glossy as he looks straight into the camera.

"baby… i miss you so much already,” he whispers, biting his lip. the angle stays as he slowly strokes himself, the same cock you’d taken so deep earlier now flushed and leaking in his hand. “look what you do to me… i keep thinking about how good you felt riding me, how warm and tight you were. fuck, i can’t even study without getting hard again.”

he lets out a quiet, needy whimper, hips twitching up into his fist. “you’ll come home as soon as you can, right? please… i need you here. i’m saving it all for you.” the video ends with him panting your name, looking equal parts desperate and embarrassed, the screen fading to black while your own thighs press together in response.

✧ he's your good boy, gently sucking on your soft tits while hugging you, he's been studying sooo hard after all!!

after you finally came home, he melted into you the second the door clicked shut. “i studied so hard today… just like you wanted,” he murmured, voice shy and sweet as he nuzzled against your chest. you guided him gently to the bed, letting him climb into your lap and wrap his arms around your waist in a tight, needy hug.

he was such a good boy—your good boy. with a soft sigh, he tugged your shirt up just enough, pressing his face between your soft tits and latching onto one nipple with the gentlest suck. his eyes fluttered closed in pure comfort, tongue swirling lazily while he hugged you even tighter, as if afraid you might disappear again. every slow, worshipful pull made his body relax more against yours, little contented hums vibrating against your skin.

“missed you… missed this,” he whispered between delicate sucks, cheeks flushed pink, completely lost in the warmth and closeness he’d been craving all day.

✧ gojo licking your pussy reeaaal good, "it's my first time..." he says. yeah right...

gojo was visibly nervous at first, cheeks burning red behind his slightly crooked glasses as he settled between your spread thighs on his cluttered bed. “it’s my first time…” he mumbled shyly, pushing his glasses up with one finger while his other hand gently held your hip. but the second his tongue touched your pussy, something in him flipped.

he let out a soft, surprised hum and suddenly became so eager—licking long, hungry stripes through your folds like he’d been starving for you. his inexperience didn’t matter at all; he was naturally, ridiculously good. his tongue moved with perfect pressure, flicking and swirling around your clit in tight circles that made your back arch instantly.

“like this…? tell me if it feels good,” he whispered breathlessly between licks, but he barely waited for your answer before diving back in, sucking gently on your swollen bud while his tongue dipped inside you, lapping up every drop of your wetness with messy enthusiasm. he was moaning into your pussy the whole time, glasses fogging up, white hair falling into his eyes as he gripped your thighs tighter and ate you out like it was his new favourite subject.

within minutes you were trembling, because even though he’d never done this before, gojo was already so fucking good at it, totally eager and focused, and completely lost in pleasing you.

✧ he prefers holding and pleasuring you more

gojo’s favourite thing wasn’t rushing toward his own release, rather, it was this. holding you close, arms wrapped securely around your waist as he pulled you against his chest, keeping you safe and warm while his fingers worked between your legs. he preferred pleasuring you like this, slow and devoted, fingers gliding slightly rough through your folds with his slender fingers that made your thighs tremble around his head.

“just let me take care of you,” he murmured softly against your ear, voice muffled and sweet, one hand stroking your pusst while the other held your hand, fingers intertwined. even when his own cock was aching and hard against the sheets, he ignored it, focusing only on the way your breath hitched;

he loved feeling you squirm and moan in his arms, loved being the reason your body melted for him. “i could do this all night,” he whispered, pressing another open mouthed kiss to your temple, content to hold you and worship you until you fell apart for him.

✧ loves teasing your tits, especially facing a mirror, that way he can see every expression and hear all lewd sounds you make

gojo loved teasing your tits more than almost anything, especially when he could make you watch. he pulled you onto his lap facing the full length mirror in his bedroom, your back pressed against his chest as one arm wrapped around your waist to hold you in place. his other hand slipped under your shirt, slowly pushing it up until your soft breasts were fully exposed to both of you in the reflection.

"look at you,” he whispered hotly against your ear, eyes locked on the mirror as his long fingers began to tease your nipples—circling, pinching lightly, then rolling them between his thumb and forefinger until they stiffened under his touch. he grinned at the way your face flushed and your lips parted in the glass, drinking in every little whimper and gasp that escaped you.

"such pretty sounds… keep making them for me, baby.” He tugged gently, then soothed with soft strokes, all while forcing you to watch how your body reacted, the way your back arched, your thighs pressed together, and your eyes grew hazy with need. his cock was already hard against your ass, but he ignored it, too focused on playing with your tits and savouring every lewd expression and moan the mirror let him see and hear.

✧ fingering and licking your pussy at the same time

gojo kept you firmly on the edge of his bed, one of his large hands stayed on your tits, lazily teasing and rolling your nipples between his fingers, while his other hand slid down between your spread thighs. “keep your eyes on me, baby,” he murmured against your neck, voice low and teasing.

he dipped two long fingers through your slick folds, coating them before slowly pushing them inside you, curling them just right to stroke that sensitive spot deep within. at the same time, he shifted lower, leaning forward so his mouth could reach your pussy. his tongue joined his fingers, licking slow, messy circles around your clit while he pumped his fingers in and out, the wet sounds filling the room along with your helpless moans.

he groaned against you, the vibration making your hips jerk. “fuck… you’re so wet for me,” he whispered between licks, sucking gently on your swollen clit as his fingers thrust deeper, faster, never stopping the gentle torture on your tits with his other hand. he could see everything, the way your mouth fell open, your eyes fluttering, your chest heaving, and really, it only made him more eager to push you over the edge.

✧ you're especially needy and desperate for his attention while he's gaming, not that he minds though.

you couldn’t help it—you were feeling especially needy tonight, sitting on the edge of his desk, gojo’s was deep in a ranked match, headset on and fingers flying over the controller. “satoru…” you whined softly, he didn’t even pause the game at first. “shit, baby… you’re really that desperate for me right now?” he chuckled lowly, eyes still on the screen, but his voice had that amused edge.

he didn’t mind one bit, in fact, when you pushed his head down towards the wet slick, he muted his mic for a second, leaning in to suck your cunt with his mouth.

“go ahead and ride my fingers if you need it that bad,” he murmured around your nipple, you moaned louder, desperate and dripping, while he kept playing like it was nothing, occasionally glancing at your flushed, needy face with a smug little smirk, clearly loving how badly you craved his attention even when he was “busy."

truthly, he never minded. you can take him anytime, anywhere.

✧ fucking you in his room, starting off nice and slow.... and before he knows it he can't hold himself back — it feels too good to stop, you understand right? ❤︎⁠

gojo had every intention of taking it slow tonight. he eased into you with a deep, shaky breath, burying himself inch by inch in your tight, welcoming heat while you lay beneath him on his messy bed.

“fuck… you feel so good,” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours, hips rolling in long, gentle strokes that made your toes curl.

his hands cradled your face so sweetly, blue eyes half lidded with affection as he kissed you softly between thrusts. but the way your walls clenched around him, the soft little moans spilling from your lips, the way your nails dug into his back... it all hit him harder than he expected.

before he knew it, his pace was picking up, thrusts growing faster, deeper, more desperate. “baby… i’m sorry, i can’t— fuck, it feels too good,” he groaned, voice breaking as he slammed into you harder, the bed creaking beneath you.

his control had completely snapped, hips snapping against yours with raw need while he buried his face in your neck. “you understand, right? tell me you understand… i just can’t stop when you’re this perfect for me. i'm so sorry— so sorry... ngh” he was panting now, relentless, chasing that overwhelming pleasure while still holding you close, completely lost in how incredible you felt wrapped around him.

note: guess who's back... hehe 🤭

taglist 🏷️:  @tomansimp @ajaxsbeloved if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

blade

✧ absolutely does not handle it well. the moment he realizes he loves you, his first instinct is to run.

✧ he’s an emotionally constipated, touch-starved, quiet wreck of a man who absolutely doesn’t know what to do with the fact that he’s fallen in love with you.

✧ at first, he convinces himself it’s just logistics. you’re in the same unit, you train together, you share the same danger. there’s a usefulness to proximity. but usefulness soon tastes like something else entirely — sweeter, more dangerous. he catches himself watching the way you tilt your head when you’re focusing, how your fingers fidget with the hem of your cloak when you’re nervous. these aren’t notes for survival. they’re anchors.

✧ when the realization finally hits, it does so like a blade — clean, shocking, leaving him breathless. it’s never one cinematic moment. it’s a thousand small knives: your laughter in the mess hall, the way you braid your hair before a mission, the careless kindness you show a wounded ally. one of those moments finds him unguarded and suddenly he understands: he’s not protecting you because duty says to. he’s protecting you because he can’t imagine a world where you’re hurt and he’s done nothing.

✧ his instinct is to run. not because he doubts his feelings, but because he knows the cost of attachment. he’s built walls so high they’ve become habit; to climb down them feels like walking into a wilderness. so he pulls away, not to punish you, but to try and train himself to survive without you. the distance is a laughable attempt at mercy — except it only makes him lonelier.

✧ distance doesn’t mean absence. if anything, it sharpens the ways he shows care. he’ll be the shadow just beyond your periphery: a chair pulled up a little closer, an extra blanket draped near your cot, a scowl aimed at anyone who laughs too loudly in your direction. he’s still cold in public, but the private kindnesses pile up like unspoken letters.

✧ jealousy is a slow, volcanic thing with him. he rarely lashes out — words are blunt weapons and he’s learned prudence — but when someone else moves in on you, his whole posture changes. it’s subtle: the set of his jaw, the hush that falls over his voice, the way the air near him seems to tilt just a hair colder. he doesn’t need to shout to make the point. people understand. they see the line he will not let cross.

✧ he’s clumsy with praise. a compliment makes him stumble, then laugh like it was nothing. inside, his chest is a tangle of shame and pride. he keeps a ledger of the things about you that make him weak — the song you hum under your breath, the way you clean your gear, the look you give when you decide you’ll do something reckless anyway. later, in the stillness, he rereads the ledger and the ache tightens.

✧ when you’re injured, his restraint breaks like old rope. fear sharpens him into a predator and a caregiver all at once. he examines your wounds with trembling hands, cursing softly whenever a bandage slips or a stitch tugs. he speaks in clipped, practical phrases because panic is a language he understands better than sentiment, but his fingers linger where they shouldn’t — forearms, jawline, the hollow where your neck meets your shoulder — as if to make sure you’re real.

✧ small domesticities become his love language. he sharpens your blade until the metal sings, because he knows a dull edge can get you killed. he warms your boots by the hearth when you’re away. he learns your coffee preference and makes it exactly the way you like it, then grumbles when you say thank you as if you’d complimented his cooking skills — which, let’s be honest, he’d never admit he had.

✧ he still has moments of panic. there are nights when the fear of losing you wakes him, and he finds himself standing at your door without meaning to, hand raised but unable to knock. he tells himself he’s intruding, that he has no right. then you open the door and he is both lamb and wolf, baffled by how complete it feels to stand there, to be let in.

✧ intimacy is rough, because he’s not practiced in softness. but where he’s clumsy with words, he is relentless with presence. he will learn to be careful if you flinch. he will apologize with actions instead of phrases. and when he finally says the three words, if ever he chooses to lead with them, they are fewer than the nights he watches over you, but heavier than any speech: “i’m here. stay.”

✧ the good days and the bad days are both christened with his stubborn loyalty. he gets territorial. yes, but also tender in ways the world does not see. he will be the one who brings you the exact rag you like for cleaning your armor. he will be the one who tells the loudmouth regulars at the tavern to shut up when they disrespect you. he will be the one who sits in silence because you need that peace, and will bring a cloak because he can imagine the cold even when you can’t.

✧ he never stops being haunted by his past, but you become the reason he chooses to face it. you are not a cure for his scars; you are a decision he keeps making every morning he breathes. your presence is not balm that erases, but a stubborn warmth that allows him to stand in the sun again.

✧ bonus quiet moments: he falls asleep on his knees in the armory and wakes to find you covering him with an old coat; he leaves the smallest, ridiculous gifts — a banded stone, a scuffed coin — in places you’ll find them when you’re feeling low; he hums a lullaby he never admitted to learning, only loud enough for you when storms roll in.

✧ and when he says it plainly, later, not as a flourish but as an anchor — “it’s you” — you understand it’s not a proclamation. it’s a vow. it’s the first of many things he cannot take back, and he never wants to.

✧ becomes even moodier, distant, but never actually leaves you—he just stands nearby, arms crossed, watching with unreadable eyes

✧ if someone else flirts with you? oh. oh it’s over. suddenly he’s at your side, glaring daggers, “they’re wasting your time.”

✧ his protective streak is both armor and plea. he’ll intercept threats that were never close enough to harm you, simply to keep the reflex of guarding alive. he’ll take the late shift if the night’s forecast is bad, because he hates the idea of you walking alone under rain-washed skies. he does these things quietly, the same way a lighthouse keeps its light.

✧ he doesn’t confess, but he shows it in how he always steps between you and danger, how his voice softens when he talks to you, how he lets you touch him when no one else can

✧ blade is not someone who thinks love is for him. he doesn’t believe he deserves it—not after everything. he’s lived too long, hurt too much, and buried too many things he once cared about. love feels like a luxury he gave up ages ago. so when it starts… creeping in, he doesn’t notice at first. or maybe he does and just refuses to name it.

✧ it starts in the smallest ways. his eyes always find you first, even in a room full of people. he listens to your voice more closely than he should. he remembers things about you that you only said once—your favorite food, the way you like your gear adjusted, the look you get when you’re about to lie. he notices everything.

✧ and still, he tells himself it’s nothing. just habit. just instinct. just awareness.

✧ but deep down, the cracks are forming. he gets quiet around you—not cold, not angry, just… quiet. like he’s trying to hold something inside. like he knows if he lets it out, it’ll swallow him whole.

✧ the moment he actually realizes he loves you is sudden and sickening. maybe you patch up his wounds after a mission and scold him gently like “you always throw yourself into danger like it’s nothing.” and then you touch his cheek, just for a second.

✧ and he feels something twist in his chest—raw and terrifying. that’s when it hits him. he’s in love with you. and he can’t lose you.

✧ after that, he pulls away. fast.

✧ he avoids eye contact. walks ahead of you during missions. doesn’t respond when you call his name the first time.

✧ he’s not doing it to be cruel. he’s doing it because he’s afraid, loving you is like standing on the edge of a cliff and realizing he could fall—and wants to.

✧ and yet… he can’t stay away.

✧ you’ll catch him lingering nearby. standing at your door but not knocking. sitting next to you during briefings even though there’s space elsewhere. sometimes, you really wished he would take the initiate, “knock,” you say to yourself, wishing he’d allow himself to be let in.

✧ his presence becomes a shadow, always close, but never quite touching.

✧ his love shows up in strange ways. he sharpens your blade without you asking. takes the watch when you’re supposed to be sleeping. kills enemies that were never close enough to threaten you, just in case. he doesn’t explain it. he just does it.

✧ and if you try to thank him? he shrugs it off like it’s nothing. like his hands weren’t trembling when he thought you got hurt.

✧ he gets jealous too, but doesn’t show it directly. someone flirts with you and blade won’t say a word, but the air around him goes cold.

✧ the next time that person’s sparring? blade’s their opponent.

✧ and if you ever get seriously injured (even if it’s just a close call) he snaps.

✧ he’ll grab you, check your body for wounds with trembling hands, and hiss out your name like it’s the only thing grounding him.

✧ “what were you thinking?”

✧ “you could’ve died.”

✧ “don’t ever do that again.”

✧ his voice shakes, and he looks away before you can see how scared he is. he won’t confess. not first. not directly. not unless you force it out of him.

✧ but there’s going to be a moment. maybe you’re bandaging his wound this time. your touch is gentle. your eyes meet. and suddenly, the air between you is heavy.

✧ you ask, quietly, “why do you care so much?” he doesn’t answer at first. he’s looking at you like you’re something he was never supposed to have.

✧ then, low, almost like a growl…“because it’s you.” and that’s it. raw and simple. because it’s you.

✧ after that, something shifts. he still doesn’t say the words. but he stops running. he lets you touch him more. lets you lean on his shoulder when you’re tired. sometimes, late at night, you’ll feel his hand brush against yours and stay.

✧ blade doesn’t know how to say “i love you.” but he says it in the way he guards your life more closely than his own. in the way he looks at you like you’re the last beautiful thing in a ruined world. in the way he stays despite everything in him screaming to run.

✧ the confession he gives isn’t polished. it’s ragged and private, a sound between a curse and a prayer. maybe you’re the one tending his wounds this time, the cloth cool against his skin, and the roles reverse. his breath hitches when your fingers brush his scar and he makes a humorless noise. “because it’s you,” he says finally, mouth tight, eyes raw. nothing more ornate. nothing more needed. it knocks the wind out of him to hear it out loud.

✧ after he admits it — that brittle, honest thing — everything tilts. he doesn’t become demonstrative in a way that makes you uncomfortable; he simply allows himself gentler truths. he accepts your touch in moments when he previously would have flinched. he lets you stand close without stepping back. he learns, painfully and stubbornly, that staying is not weakness — it’s choosing.

✧ you are his breaking point, his softness.

anaxa

✧ tries to play it cool at first, but the second he realizes it’s more than a crush, he kinda panics. scratch that, his entire focus is entirely on YOU now.

✧ gets very “i’m too cool for feelings” but turns around and is like, “did you eat today?” or “here, i fixed your weapon for you”

✧ he tries to play it cool, and for a while the act is flawless — aloof glances, practiced indifference, a sarcasm shield that keeps his insides firmly locked away. then one small thing unravels him: you hum a tune while you patch a wound, or you fall asleep halfway through a briefing, chin tucked into your palm, and suddenly the world re-centers.

✧ the performance drops. his hands fidget. his brain glitches. and for the first time he thinks, in actual, terrified clarity: i can’t stop thinking about them.

✧ denial is his first full-time job. he insists to himself that this is tactical — proximity for intel, mentorship for efficiency. but every time you laugh, his composure fractures. every time you’re late, a low panic buzzes in his chest. when he claims he “doesn’t care,” it sounds like a dare more than conviction, because his eyes betray him, following you like gravity follows a stone.

✧ he becomes your unsolicited caretaker under the guise of efficiency. “did you eat?” is his daily opener now, delivered with that same deadpan tone, but his gaze has an edge. when you say yes, he’ll still produce a bowl or a snack five minutes later and place it exactly where you’ll see it, because he knows you’ll forget otherwise.

✧ his version of stalking is logistical and painfully competent. he doesn’t lurk in alleys; he times patrols so he’ll “happen” to be nearby, he schedules training so he’s in the same room, he edits rota sheets with microscopic adjustments that make your shifts overlap. it is not creepy. it is a tiny, benevolent conspiracy to ensure you are always within reach.

✧ when you get a papercut, he acts like a medic and a drama king simultaneously. the initial reaction is bordering-on-hysterical — a soft curse, an immediate flurry of ointment and gauze, a muttered “who hurt you?” — but then the tenderness arrives, steady and practical, as he tapes the bandage with hands that tremble ever so slightly.

✧ he starts criticizing you in the most love-filled way possible. his critiques are precise and frequent, but they’re never cruel — they’re corrections from someone who refuses to watch you struggle when he can teach you better.

✧ “your left foot drops on that pivot every time,” he’ll say, and you’ll hate how right he is. the subtext: i want you safe enough to be unstoppable.

✧ the panic after realization manifests in micro-obsessions. he learns your schedule, the song you whistle when you’re focused, the way you tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. he catalogues it all in the back of his head and revisits the list late when sleep won’t come. sometime between dawn and decisions, he thinks of how to keep you unscathed another day.

✧ his jealousy is not theatrical; it’s a hard, cold narrowing of the world. when someone else gets flirty, he doesn’t start a fight — he becomes the storm before it rains. his voice lowers, words clipped, but the message is obvious: back off. if that doesn’t work, his next move is quietly efficient and terrifying: he becomes their sparring partner. they leave the arena with bruises and a newly respectful distance.

✧ he’s the kind of person who prepares for your absence before you even leave. if you tell him you’ll be gone, he’ll arrange for gear to be sharpened, a cot warmed, a message posted. he does these things without fanfare. you find them later and realize he’s been thinking about your comfort like a daily task he cannot skip.

✧ he teaches not to show off, but to survive. his sessions are brutal, precise, and infinitely patient. if you slip, he corrects your stance with a soft curse and then demonstrates until you get it. he stays long after everyone else has left the training ground, because the quiet moments are when he can watch you grow and his heart can keep rhythm.

✧ when you’re reckless, he snaps — not out of anger but out of fear. his voice gets raw; the words are sharp. “don’t do that.” simple. final. afterwards, the apology is for his tone, not for the intent. he’ll make you tea and sit with you while you breathe through the tremors because he knows fear makes small things big.

✧ he hides his soft spots beneath sarcasm. call him out on it and he’ll glare like you’ve offended his dignity. steal his coat? expect a half-grouchy, half-pleased “don’t get used to it,” though he’ll make sure it’s mended and warmed for the next night. a gift is an embarrassment that he will never directly acknowledge, but he leaves little comforts where he knows your hands will find them.

✧ he writes messages like someone used to giving commands — short, crisp, efficient. but one night he slips and leaves a longer note under your door: “if you’re gone at dawn, send one post. if you’re late, i’ll assume you’re reckless. if you break anything, i’ll fix it. —a” and then he spends the day panicking that you’ll read more than you should and see how exposed he’s become.

✧ his attempts at romance are wildly clumsy. he won’t plan candlelit dinners because he finds them performative, but he’ll show up with stew and a slightly singed pie because he burned it trying to make something that reminded him of you. you laugh; he hates that you laugh because the pie is terrible but the intent is ceremony enough.

✧ he is fiercely protective but also hopelessly insecure. he’ll argue anybody into leaving you alone, and then go home and replay every decision you made that day, wondering if he could have prevented one stumble. the guilt of being insufficient is a weight he carries in silence — until you force him to talk and he realizes he can offload it onto you and you’ll still stay.

✧ he lets you see him tired and unguarded on purpose sometimes. at first that feels like an accident — you catch him at the table, head bowed over a map, eyes rimmed red. later you find it deliberate: an invitation. “i’m messy,” he’d warn if he had words for it. you brush a thumb against his knuckles and he stiffens, then relaxes because you stayed.

✧ he is clumsy with labels. he won’t hand you declarations, but he will hand you a life of effort. when you fall asleep mid-lecture, he moves your hair away with a reverence that looks like prayer. he doesn’t say it because words are blunt and he’s not brave, but he leaves his hand on your shoulder while you doze, and that linger is a small eternity.

✧ he’s got an internal monologue that reads like a storm. one minute he’s convincing himself he’s mad, the next he’s cataloguing what he loves — your laugh, your stubbornness, the scar only you notice. he panics at the idea of losing you, and his solution is always the same: be there more, be better, and hope his presence is enough to anchor you.

✧ he confesses in pieces. not a speech, but a string of moments. a hand on your back that doesn’t pull away, a protective step that leaves him winded, a muttered “stay” that is a command steeped in prayer. if pressed, he’ll say it simply, dangerous in its honesty: “i’m here. don’t go.” that, to him, means everything.

✧ after the confession, he doesn’t morph into a sitcom boyfriend. he remains sharp, high-functioning, and blunt — but the edges are softer with you. he yields space without always needing to explain why. he takes up less of the room in arguments, because he learns that to love is to listen as much as to guard.

✧ his jealousy becomes protective ritual rather than possessive rage. he’ll mark the territory in small gestures: he’ll sit between you and an admirer, he’ll make the first joke to disarm the flirt, he’ll take your arm with a possessive claim and then smirk away like it was all shown for show — but his hold is comfortable and warm and never meant to hurt.

✧ he shows love through preparedness: spare boots by your bedside, an extra cloak folded neatly by your door, your favorite ointment stocked in the infirmary. these are his promises — unexciting, practical, eternal.

✧ he will teach you to fight better because he wants you to be unbreakable even when he can’t stand watch. sometimes his lessons are brutal, and you’ll hate him for it in the moment, but afterward you’ll find bandages in your bag and a quiet look that says he was terrified the entire time.

✧ there are rare nights when he’s vulnerable enough to tell you the small things — the first time he noticed you, the way your laugh made something in him relax he didn’t know he had, the fear that you might not choose to stay. he says it in fits and starts, clumsy honesty that leaves you breathless because it’s raw and true.

✧ he loves you like a storm loves the shore: it's unavoidable, and like a coastline, you wear his roughness into something recognisable, something that holds meaning. he will never be soft in the ways the world expects, but his ferocity becomes the most tender thing you’ve ever seen.

✧ he keeps mementos you’d never expect: a scrap of fabric from an old scarf you wore once, a pressed leaf from where you sat and read, a band of steel he polished while thinking about you. they’re hidden in a drawer labelled “useless things” because he can’t bear to call them what they are: relics of the way he learned to care.

✧ on the worst days, when his past claws at him, you are the steadying force. he lets you hold him. he is not used to softness but he accepts it because you are the only one who has taught him softness is not a weakness. and each time you anchor him back to the present, his gratitude is a quiet thing that shivers in his jaw.

✧ if you push him to say it plainly, he will, in the end, because he’s honest even when he’s terrified. it won’t be a confession full of poetry — it’ll be direct and blunt and exactly him: “i never thought i’d want this. but i do. you’ve ruined me. stay.” and then he waits like a soldier who’s done with battle only to find a fight worth fighting.

✧ lowkey follows you around, not in a creepy way, just in a “if they need me i’ll be there in 0.2 seconds” kinda way

✧ if you even get a papercut he acts like you’ve been mortally wounded. “you’re bleeding?? i won't allow this”

✧ he’s dead serious, too. already dragging out gauze, disinfectant, and muttering under his breath about how “unbelievable” you are for letting something so catastrophic happen. when you laugh and say it’s just a scratch, he glares like you’ve personally offended him. “just a scratch? excuse me? blood is leaving your body. you think that’s something to joke about?”

✧ and then, while he’s wrapping your finger with way more precision than necessary, his tone softens. “you need to take better care of yourself. what if you ignored something bigger one day?”

✧ he doesn’t say the rest—what if i8’m not there to catch it? what if i lose you over something small, something stupid, something i could’ve prevented?

✧ okay but. first of all. this man? denial. like the olympic-level kind. he’s used to feeling above everything—especially emotions. he’s dramatic, sure, and full of pride, but real connection? real feelings? nah. not for him. or so he thinks.

✧ the realization doesn’t come in some huge romantic moment. it’s something stupid. maybe you fall asleep next to him while waiting for a briefing, your head gently bumping his shoulder, and instead of shoving you off or scoffing… he just sits there. perfectly still. completely silent. staring into space like someone just broke his brain.

✧ “what the hell is this. what. is this.”

✧ after that, it’s internal chaos. he’s spiraling. his brain is screaming and he’s just… pretending everything’s fine.

✧ on the outside? smug, still slightly cocky.

✧ on the inside? “do they know? did they feel my heart jump? was i breathing weird? why do i wanna hold their hand. why do i want them to like me back. this is a glitch in the matrix. i’m resetting my soul.”

✧ it starts off like regular anaxa nonsense. smug. composed. witty. above it all. but then he realizes he’s been “accidentally” assigned to mentor you way more often.

✧ he starts giving you extra notes, tailored study sheets, overly specific critiques like “you always forget this detail in your form, but your reaction time’s decent—still nowhere near good enough if i’m not around to cover you.”

✧ and you’re like “…wait are you complimenting me?”

✧“obviously not. don’t flatter yourself.” (he is. he totally is.)

✧ the more time he spends with you, the more unhinged he gets about your safety.

✧ like you’re sparring in a training room and you get knocked down, not seriously, but enough to make a sound—he teleports across the room like “what did i say about your blindside?? are you actively trying to get yourself killed, or are you just naturally this reckless??”

✧ “i’m fine—” “that’s not the point. do you think i enjoy wasting my time dragging you off the floor every week??”

✧ his hands are checking your limbs, his voice is sharp, but his touch is gentle. and his eyes are absolutely terrified.

✧ if you do anything remotely dangerous without telling him?? oh. you’re done. he will go off.

✧ “next time you decide to walk into an enemy territory alone, maybe try thinking for half a second beforehand? unless your goal is to make me lose the last three brain cells i have left.”

✧ “you’re overreacting…”

✧ anaxa? dead serious. “no, i’m reacting exactly enough for someone who just realized their favorite idiot almost died because they couldn’t be bothered to send a message.”

✧ but the thing is…he doesn’t just scold you.

✧ he explains things. he teaches. he wants you to be better, because if he can’t always be there to protect you, then you damn well better know how to protect yourself.

✧ he stays late helping you train. sends you articles and annotated guides.

✧ he’s invested.

✧ "if i’m stuck loving you, the least you could do is learn to dodge faster.”

✧ when you ask him “why do you care so much?” he scoffs every time. “oh please. i don’t care. i’m just tired of patching you up like you’re made of wet paper.”

✧ but his eyes linger, and later that night you find a handwritten note slipped under your door: “i care because i can’t not. because i’m already too deep. because you matter. more than i’m ready to admit.”

✧ (he’ll deny he ever wrote this)

✧ and then there’s the lectures. not just about combat, about sleep, food, rest, hydration.

✧ you yawn once and he’s already glaring. “have you been up all night again? why am i even asking, of course you have. congratulations, you’ve officially shaved ten years off your lifespan.”

✧ he’ll toss a fruit at you saying, “eat. i don’t want to hear another word until your body’s functioning at 50% minimum.”

✧ but it’s the soft scolding that hits the hardest, like after a battle where you overdid it again, and he finds you sitting alone, wincing while patching yourself up. his shadow falls over you before you even notice him, and by the time you look up, he’s already kneeling down, snatching the gauze from your clumsy fingers with a sharp “you’re doing it wrong.”

✧ he doesn’t say anything else at first—just works in silence, jaw tight, wrapping your wounds with careful, deliberate hands. it’s so unlike his usual dramatic, snarky self that you can’t help but watch him closely, the way his touch is steady even though his eyes keep flicking to every bruise like he wants to erase them himself.

✧ finally, when he ties off the bandage, his voice drops—barely above a whisper, like he’s saying something he shouldn’t: “you don’t have to do everything alone. stop acting like you’re disposable. you’re not.”

✧ and of course—you can’t resist teasing him. your lips twitch into a grin, and you lean just close enough to see his ears go pink. “awww, anaxa… are you worried about me?”

✧ instantly, he stiffens, glaring at you like you’ve committed some grave sin. “don’t flatter yourself. I’m just tired of cleaning up after your recklessness.” but his hands linger on your bandaged arm a little too long, and his voice cracks on the last word.

✧ you push it further, grinning, “you’re kind of sweet when you’re soft like this, y’know.”

✧ his face does not survive that. he jerks back like you just slapped him, sputtering. “soft? me? absolutely not. erase that from your memory immediately.”

✧ but later, when he thinks you’re asleep, his hand brushes yours, tentative, almost shy. and though he’d rather die than admit it. he liked you seeing that part of him. even if you tease him for it.

✧ his small rituals deepen. he brings you coffee to your bedside when he knows you have a long day. he sits on the roof sometimes, shoulders touching yours in silence, sharing the night because words feel redundant under a sky that vast. he hums low, a private soundtrack, and you learn the cadence of his contentment.

✧ he’s so bad at saying he loves you, but it leaks out in every word. for example: “don’t be late again.” = i waited for you and got worried and hated how much i did. “you’re terrible at this, let me fix it.” = i want to make things easier for you. “you’re an idiot.” = i’d die if anything happened to you.

✧ he’s always got some sharp comment ready, even in the middle of his “soft moments.” when he kneels to wrap your wounds, he’ll mutter, “really, are you trying to make me earn a medal for babysitting you?”

✧ and of course, you grin, leaning just enough to brush your fingers against his. “someone’s feeling dramatic today, aren’t they?”

✧ he frowns, but it’s the kind of frown that doesn’t stick. “i am not feeling dramatic. you’re just… reckless. it’s a public service i’m performing.”

✧ and you raise an eyebrow, teasing, “sure sure, your heroic concern for me is totally selfless.”

✧ he snorts, shaking his head, hands still gentle on your arm. “don’t get used to this softness. it’s highly irregular. maybe once every… eternity. don’t you dare think i’m doing it because I care.”

✧ but you can see it—oh, you know it. the way his hand lingers an extra second on your wrist, the little hitch in his breath when your fingers brush his, the way his eyes soften despite the words.

✧ and so, naturally, you tease him relentlessly. “wow, such a cold heart… and yet here you are, fussing over me like i’m made of porcelain.”

✧ he flinches, sputters, and mutters something about “porcelain being a ridiculous comparison,” but the corners of his mouth twitch like he’s barely keeping a smirk contained.

✧ you can push him to the edge with this, knowing full well he won’t push back in earnest. his snark is armour, but underneath? he adores every second of your teasing, even if he refuses to say it.

✧ yes he’s infatuated with you there’s no denying it.

mydei

✧ realisation is quiet. it’s like the end of a complex equation and the answer is most definitely and undeniably….you.

✧ he watches you like he’s trying to understand every part of you, and then realises…he already does

✧ he starts acting a little awkward, stumbling over words, especially when you get too close, which is really cute but also terrifying to see, the son of gorgo, lord mydeimos…stuttering? wow.

✧ if you ask him what’s wrong, he’ll be all “nothing of logical concern,” but his ears are red

✧ there’s such a beautiful duality—he’s this battle-worn, ruthless soldier with blood on his hands and weight in his soul… and yet he’s soft, gentle, and almost painfully sweet with you. a protector.

✧ he gets ridiculously possessive in the cutest ways, though he’ll never outright admit it. if someone even glances at you for more than a second, he appears like he teleported there out of nowhere, his arms crossed, eyes narrowed, muttering something about “don’t get distracted, they might actually be important to me” while pretending it’s about your safety.

✧ when you tease him, he sputters and protests, but secretly he loves it. he’ll mutter something sharp like “stop laughing, i wasn’t—fine, you’re lucky i even care” and his voice shakes just a little, betraying how much he enjoys the playful back-and-forth.

✧ he leaves little notes for you in unexpected places. not full-on love letters, because that would be… him, but scraps of paper tucked into your bag or gear: “don’t forget to breathe today. also, you’ve annoyed me just enough to like you a little more than i should.” and he definitely watches to see if you find it, hiding the pink tinge on his cheeks when you do.

✧ if you’re cold, he doesn’t hesitate. he’ll drop everything, wrap you in his cloak without asking, and growl if you try to protest. “don’t argue with me—you look ridiculous shivering like that,” he says, but there’s a softness in his tone that only you notice.

✧ during missions, he’s hyper-aware of your every move. the smallest sound—an unstable branch, a shifting stone, a stray spark—sets him moving before you even notice. he’s like a guardian shadow, always just a step behind or beside you, ready to catch you before anything happens.

✧ he practices subtle touches just to gauge your reaction. a gentle brush of the hand, a lingering arm around your shoulder… his poker face is perfect, but every small movement makes his heartbeat betray him. and he notices when you notice, freezing for a second before muttering something nonsensical to cover it up.

✧ if you complain about being tired or sore, he groans dramatically, but never leaves your side. he hovers close, his voice sharp but his hands gentle as he helps you stretch or rubs your shoulders. “you’re exaggerating, as always, but fine… let me,” he grumbles, though every movement is careful, protective, and tender.

✧ when he catches you staring at him, his brain immediately short-circuits. he panics internally: “did they notice my hair? my shoulder? my expression? oh no… they noticed me noticing them,” while externally he tries to act nonchalant, crossing his arms and muttering something about needing to check his weapon.

✧ he shows affection in tiny, almost imperceptible ways—tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, adjusting your cloak when you’re not looking, holding your hand for just a second too long. he’d never call it love, but every action screams it.

✧ he’s absurdly concerned for your safety, to the point of ridiculousness. “you could stub a toe and i’d spend the next hour calculating the probability of your survival. don’t test me,” he warns, though the corners of his mouth twitch like he’s trying not to smile at how much he cares.

✧ he makes little gifts for you and pretends they’re purely practical. a custom dagger for missions? “efficiency only. utilitarian purposes. nothing else.” yet later you notice delicate engravings only you would recognize—initials, a small pattern he knows you love, and you just let it slide, because he would never admit it was for you.

✧ when you fall asleep near him, he freezes. he doesn’t move or speak, just watches your chest rise and fall, memorizing the way your hair falls across your face, the softness of your eyelashes, as if you were the most precious thing in the world and he’s terrified to wake you.

✧ if you brush his hand or shoulder, he jumps slightly and mutters incoherent words while turning bright red. “what… did… you just do…? don’t think i didn’t notice,” he says, voice shaking as his ears flush, and he hides his face like a flustered teenager.

✧ he gives you his jacket without asking, claiming he doesn’t need it anyway, but secretly he loves watching you wear it. “it suits you better… obviously,” he says, though the word “obviously” is delivered with a twitch of nervous pride.

✧ when you’re hurt, he becomes methodical, almost scientific, checking every detail of your wounds and how you’re holding yourself, but his hands tremble slightly because he’s terrified of losing you.

✧ sometimes, when he thinks you’re not looking, he whispers to himself: “please… stay. don’t go anywhere. i… can’t handle this without you.” and you always notice.

✧ he hides his flustered moments with witty, snarky quips, though they never quite cover how soft he is. “don’t look at me like that. i’m not… oh forget it,” he mutters, eyes softening every time you meet his gaze.

✧ he leaves small surprises around you: a clean mug ready in the morning, a neatly folded cloak, or a small sketch of something he knows you love, never admitting they’re meant for you.

✧ he's the kind of man who holds your hand like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, even after holding a blade like it’s part of him.

✧ it happens stupidly. like painfully soft and dumb.

✧ you’re trying to fix your armor or something and you’re all frowny and frustrated and go “ugh i hate this piece, i wanna throw it into the sun” and he?? just chuckles.

✧ like. full chest, soft rumble chuckle. and he goes, “don’t waste the sun like that.”

✧ but he’s looking at you. not the armor. and in that exact second he’s like “oh. oh no. i love them.”

✧ aaaaaand his brain short circuits.

✧ he becomes SO bad at hiding it. like he thinks he’s being subtle but his actions scream “hopeless man in love.”

✧ you cough once and he’s got a cup of tea ready in two seconds. you trip a little and he’s already got his arms around you like you almost got hit by a meteor.

✧ you look cold? he’s putting his entire cloak around your shoulders even though it’s heavy and now he’s just shirtless under the stars like a feral romantic wolf man.

✧ he gets FLUSTERED when you do soft things to him. you brush his hair behind his ear? he stops functioning. you call him handsome? he physically shakes. and if you kiss his scars?

✧ he malfunctions and literally freezes with his eyes wide open like “uh. system.exe not found.”

✧ he tries to act composed but he’s got the WORST soft spot for you.

✧ like you could literally walk in holding a kitten and go “this is ours now” and he’d be like

✧ “…..what does it eat. what temperature does it like to sleep at. does it need a name?”

✧ he builds it a tiny shield. he denies it. but he totally does.

✧ when you’re injured?? the man becomes your personal doctor/mom/furniture.

✧ “sit down. don’t move. i’ll carry you. no you’re not fine. you’re never fine.”

✧ and then when you finally rest he just SITS THERE watching you sleep like “my tiny brave idiot. why do i love you so much. you absolute chaos gremlin.”

✧ kisses your forehead when you’re unconscious before denying it later.

✧ he says the most insane soft stuff when he’s tired. he once mumbled “your voice is my favorite sound” at 3 a.m. another time whispered “i’d bleed for you. i mean i have, but like….i’d do it again….”

✧ you try to tease him about it and he’ll deny it like “i didn’t say that” but his ears are red. all the way down to his neck. yeah he said it alright.

✧ sometimes he zones out staring at you and then realizes you caught him and just grunts “you have something on your face.”

✧ your brows furrow in confusion as you connected the dots. “what is it?” you ask, touching and scouring every surface of your face for anything.

✧ mydei, the smallest yet cutest hint of pink on his cheeks as his eyes dance to yours. “me. looking at you.”

✧ you give him a kiss on the cheek once and he goes SILENT for ten minutes straight.

✧ doesn’t even breathe.

✧ you’re slightly confused and a bit worried. “are you okay?” and he just nods like “fine.”

✧ “mhm…yeah sure..”

✧ he is not. he’s internally screaming.

✧ he builds stuff for you. fixes your gear. makes you custom weapons that he pretends are “for mission efficiency” but secretly carves little patterns into them just because he knows you like pretty things.

✧ there’s one blade he gives you that has a tiny engraving on the hilt. you notice it later.

✧ it’s your initials and his. you don’t bring it up.

✧ he carries everything for you. bags? his. water? his. emotional burdens? also his.

✧ “give it to me.”

✧ “you’re gonna strain your back—”

✧ “then i’ll carry that too.”

✧ you trip ONCE and he doesn’t let you walk without holding his hand for a WEEK. it’s like he instantly becomes your mother, fretting for you 24/7.

✧ “what if you fall again?”

✧ “onto what. a flat hallway?”

✧ “danger is everywhere. even gravity can’t be trusted.”

✧ and finally, when he does confess for real, it’s quiet and simple yet so full of warmth.

✧ you’re curled up beside him after a long day, and he gently brushes your hair back and says, “you’re my peace. the only softness i’ll never fight against.”

✧ “i don’t just want to protect you anymore. i want to belong to you.”

✧ immediately gets flustered before speaking once again, “if…you’re okay with that.”

✧ and finally, the flustered, chaotic, adorable mydei you’ve come to know melts into a man who allows himself to love, protect, and be vulnerable with you.

phainon

✧ goes straight into panic mode. this man is flailing.

✧ starts stammering, laughing too loud around you, accidentally dropping things—like bro calm down...

✧ he flirts in the most obvious way possible, but it’s kinda endearing. like “if i were a planet, you’d be my sun!! haha… unless that’s weird…”

✧ gets so jealous but doesn’t know how to express it, so he just sulks and pouts until you give him attention again

✧ after he realizes he’s in love, every little thing you do becomes a highlight reel in his brain. the way you chew your lip when thinking? the way you stretch after a long day? he notices it all and it makes his chest tighten like he might burst.

✧ he tries to act nonchalant, but fails spectacularly. if you glance at him the wrong way, he trips over nothing, laughs too loudly, or knocks something over, muttering “…i’m fine. fine. totally fine.” and you know he isn’t.

✧ every compliment from you makes him melt into an awkward puddle. “phai, you look amazing today!” and he’s like, “…obviously… thanks… i think… wow.” internally panicking while trying to maintain a façade of hero-level composure.

✧ when you’re tired or cold, he immediately transforms into this overprotective, fluffball boyfriend. “come here. you’re not walking another step in that weather.” before you know it, he’s draped his cloak over you, pulled you close, and is muttering about how reckless you are.

✧ he flirts constantly, in the most chaotic, obvious ways. if you pass by, he’s “accidentally” bumping into you. he makes ridiculous jokes mid-fight like, “careful, sweetheart, wouldn’t want to fall for me too hard.” and his grin says he’s very serious about it.

✧ jealous? absolutely. but phainon doesn’t explode or make a scene—he sulks, pouts, and mutters under his breath like a baffled little puppy who’s been denied a treat. it starts with a stiffening in his shoulders when someone laughs too loudly at your jokes, then turns into that adorable, obvious sulk: he crosses his arms, stomps his foot once for dramatic effect, and walks a few paces away only to hover where he can still see you. his mouth is full of snappy comebacks but they stick there; instead he mumbles things like, “oh, very funny,” or “fine, enjoy their nonsense,” with a tone that clearly reads as please-pay-attention-to-me.

✧ he’ll pout in the quietest ways—drama without the fireworks. maybe he pretends to be unimpressed and loudly praises the perpetrator’s technique, then scowls when you laugh at their joke and not his. sometimes he sulks so theatrically you can’t help but jab him in the ribs and ask what’s wrong; other times he’ll grumble away while watching you, eyes soft and a little pleading, until you catch his gaze and the whole performance collapses into sheepish grin and a chaotic, “don’t be like that.”

✧ if you decide to ignore it on purpose, he escalates to puppy tactics: he becomes performatively helpful—offering to carry your gear, making silly faces behind someone’s back, or doing something spectacular and a little embarrassing just to get you to look. when you finally do give him the attention he’s been pining for, the sulk melts in an instant. he flops into your space with a relieved, goofy sigh and ruffles your hair like you saved him from a storm.

✧ and if you call him out—gently—on being jealous, his defenses wobble. he’ll snort and say, “me? jealous? never,” but his cheeks betray him, faintly pink, and he’ll reach for your hand like a small, stubborn child secretly begging to be reassured. underneath all the theatrics is a tiny, very real fear that you might drift away, and his sulking is just the only language he sometimes knows for asking you to stay.

✧ he’s fiercely competitive, but with you, he’s a disaster. even the smallest sparring victory from you makes him stare in stunned admiration. “…wait… you just—ow. yes, okay. you’re terrifyingly good.” and he can’t hide the pride in his voice.

✧ when you’re sad, he goes full soft mode. he doesn’t talk much, just sits near you, offering his shoulder or hand without a word, letting you lean on him. he hums quietly sometimes, like a grounding rhythm, until you relax.

✧ if you cry? he’s a trembling mess. gently pulls you into his arms, presses his cheek to your head, and whispers, “shhh… i’ve got you. i’ll hold it all for you, okay?” even though he hates being vulnerable, he lets you see this side of him because he trusts you.

✧ he notices everything about you. your favorite snacks? he memorizes. how you like your gear adjusted? noted. the tone of your voice when you’re tired? he adapts. it’s insane attention to detail, all mixed with love and absolute puppy energy.

✧ phainon is definitely the kind of guy to make you a flower crown. he’ll sit there, fumbling with stems, tongue poking out a little in concentration while he ties them together, acting like it’s just another casual hobby. when he finally places it on your head, he’s grinning ear to ear—then immediately plops one onto his own head so you match.

✧ if you call him out for how romantic it is, he instantly backpedals, running a hand through his hair and saying, “what? no way, it just looks cooler if I wear one too. totally not, like… couple-y or anything.” spoiler: it is very couple-y, and he knows it.

✧ his heroic side is still intact. he roars through battles like a living flame, lifts impossibly heavy objects, and protects everyone—but with you, he’s both chaotic and soft, leaning into his feelings in ways he wouldn’t dare elsewhere.

✧ he’s always trying to make you laugh. goofy impressions, ridiculous puns, playful challenges—anything to get that spark in your eyes, because he lives for it. every smile from you makes him feel like the world is right, even if everything else is chaos.

✧ every single time you laugh at one of his dumb jokes, like really laugh, that unguarded, belly-deep laugh...he loses it. outwardly, he doubles down, throwing another cheesy one-liner like it’s nothing. but inside? he’s a puddle. his grin falters for half a second because he’s so overwhelmed, and he actually has to turn his face away, clear his throat, and mutter something cocky like “yeah, I’m hilarious, I know.” truth is, he’s thinking: i just made them laugh. me. i could live off this forever.

✧ he cannot sit still around you. his body’s buzzing, restless, constantly moving. he’ll spin a dagger between his fingers, tap his foot, roll his shoulders—like he needs to bleed off the nervous energy. but the second you reach out and touch his hand, just casually, maybe to stop him fidgeting? he freezes.

✧ suddenly all that motion evaporates and he’s perfectly still, staring at you with wide eyes like you just hit his off-switch. he recovers in a flash with some half-joke like, “uh. guess you’ve got powers after all,” but he’s not fooling anyone.

✧ his confessions are chaotic but precious. “…i’d die for you. wait, not like that. i mean… i’d also like to live… with you… near you… uh. just… you know. stay with me?” he’s stumbling over words but his eyes are earnest, and it’s impossible not to melt.

✧ kisses from you? he freezes completely, wide-eyed, then wraps you up in a trembling hug like “oh. OH. we’re in love now. okay. no take-backs!” and his hands shake because he’s terrified and ecstatic at the same time.

✧ every little action from him screams “i love you” even when he insists otherwise. sharpening your weapons “for efficiency only,” leaving a blanket beside you, making ridiculous gestures just to make you laugh—it’s all for you, and he’s hopelessly proud when you notice.

✧ his chaos and heroism blend perfectly with his puppy energy around you: loud, dazzling, competitive, affectionate, flustered, and completely devoted. he’s impossible not to adore and he knows it.

✧ he’s charming, heroic, the kinda guy everyone loves on the surface… but you get to see the real him, the flawed, snappy, a lil unhinged sometimes. and he loves you more than anything for not turning away when he’s not perfect.

✧ phainon is most definitely the “i could bench press a star but i’d fold in half if you looked at me for too long” type of boyfriend. cough cough just letting you know cough cough

✧ phainon swears up and down he can cook for you. “culinary skills of a god,” he says. “you’re gonna be blown away,” he insists. the reality? chaos. the kitchen’s filled with smoke, half the food is either raw or charred beyond recognition, and there’s a small, suspicious fire in the corner. he comes out of it sheepishly holding a burnt pan and grinning like, “okay, technically it’s edible. but, like, the effort was hot, right?” he sulks for five minutes when you tease him about it—until you take a bite anyway, then he lights up like you just handed him the world.

✧ he is so easily distracted by you it’s borderline dangerous. he’s walked into poles, tripped over rocks, and once nearly fell into a river mid-conversation because you happened to smile at him. every single time, he acts like it wasn’t his fault. “gravity just hits different around you,” he says, puffing up his chest like it’s a legitimate excuse. but the pink in his ears always gives him away.

✧ if you look even slightly stressed or down, phainon cannot let it slide. he’ll throw himself into the most ridiculous antics just to make you smile. once, he literally challenged a boulder to a push-up contest. like, he dropped onto the ground, shouting encouragements to himself while side-eyeing you, trying to drag a laugh out of you. when you finally cracked a grin, he collapsed dramatically, rolling onto his back with a groan of, “see? victory achieved. your smile’s worth losing to a rock.”

✧ phainon is so easygoing at first. flirty, teasing, constantly cracking jokes with that cocky grin like he’s never once had a bad day in his life. he’s loud in the way sunshine is, everywhere, impossible to ignore.

✧ but when he falls in love with you? oh man. it sneaks up on him like a stray punch to the ribs. one minute he’s breezy, cracking jokes and swaggering through the training yard, and the next he’s watching you with this dazed, private awe that makes him forget the rest of the world exists. it doesn’t arrive like a declaration — it slides in sideways during a spar, behind a grin, in the quiet seconds after you laugh, and then suddenly he realizes he’s been orbiting you without permission.

✧ it all starts with sparring, naturally. you two jab and prod each other the way only people who trust one another can, teasing, testing reach and reflex. the air is electric, boots scuffing, breath coming in measured bursts. you’re bickering with that playful cadence that always ends with both of you smirking, and he loves it: the way you don’t flinch, the way you commit to every move like nothing matters but the moment.

✧ he holds back, of course, not because he can’t win, but because he’d rather see you try than crush you too easily. still, there’s a smug pleasure in feeling you land a hit on him, because of course you’d make him work for it.

✧ one afternoon you finally catch him in a lock and he lets you have it deliberately, with a slow, teasing yield. he collapses to the mats, sounding dramatic and delighted, “ow. i guess you win.” and for a heartbeat you’re stunned: your chest puffs with that weird pride that comes with surprising someone impossible. “wait really???!!!” you shout, half incredulous, half triumphant. he watches you glow with this soft, almost guilty sparkle in his eyes and admits, quietly, “…yeah.”

✧ that’s the moment it slams into him like a truck. he hadn’t planned on the feeling, and now that it’s there he’s alternately thrilled and terrified. afterward he tries to act normal. jokes come faster, his grin gets louder, his swagger more exaggerated, but normal is impossible. he starts complimenting you in the strangest, most chaotic ways because he doesn’t know how else to say you’re incredible without sounding like a fool. “you’re so freakin’ cool when you punch me in the face, y’know that?” he says once, voice too loud for no reason, then flushes when you beam back at him.

✧ sometimes his compliments ricochet off into surreal territory. “if i die in battle i hope it’s by your hands. you’d make it look hot,” he’ll blurt — confidence turned ridiculous bravado — and you stare at him wondering whether to laugh or swoon. he’s the kind of person who roars into battle like nothing can touch him, but the second you say something simple — “you look handsome when you’re serious” — he freezes. “shut up,” he grumbles through a blush, the words half-annoyed and half-pleased as his face blooms red all the way down to his chest.

✧ showmanship is his currency. he adores showing off in front of you: lifting ridiculous weights that make nearby soldiers whistle, demonstrating stunts that end with him grinning at your reaction. he’s proud in a loud, physical way because he wants you to be impressed. but praise — sincere, soft, unforced praise — melts him. one genuine “phai, you’re amazing!!” will make him lock up, eyes wide, mouth open, completely unready for being adored. he’ll deflect with a cocky “hah! obviously,” but inside his brain is spiraling: you love me, right? marry me now?

✧ he adores that you don’t flinch from his darker edges. when the coreflame in his chest pops up and his blood hums with anger, the world tilts and his hands clench, and he is an animal on the verge. if you simply step forward, place your hand on his chest and whisper, “i know you’re still here,” it grounds him like nothing else can. no fear. no recoil. you become his peaceful spot in the middle of the storm, the one person whose touch can shrink the rage into something manageable. he’d kneel for you — not out of ceremony but as a reflex of reverence.

✧ when he gets overwhelmed, he masks it with noise — dumb jokes, over-the-top laughter, a grin too wide because vulnerability terrifies him. yet if you see through the bravado and say, softly, “hey… it’s okay to not be okay,” he collapses into silence like someone finally dropping a heavy pack. then he pulls you into a fierce, trembling hug, burying his face in your shoulder and whispering, “thank you.” those moments are private, raw, and he trusts you with them alone.

✧ competitiveness is in his bones. with Mydei, it’s a nonstop game of one-upmanship, lifts, stunts, who-can-outlast-who, and yet around you he becomes endearingly clumsy. example: after Mydei lands a clean sparring win and nods your way with a cocky smirk, Phainon scrambles up, brushes off dust, and yells, “cool, love that for him — watch me lift a tree.” it’s both performative and sincere, half-show, half-plea for your attention. he’ll flirt mid-fight, dropping ridiculous lines like, “careful, sweetheart, i might fall for you harder than your footwork.” when you actually knock him off his feet he laughs, winded and triumphant, and for a second the whole world narrows to the ridiculousness of being in love.

✧ his soft spots are numerous and obvious to everyone — yet somehow everyone pretends not to notice because who could blame him? he learns your schedule, knows your snack preferences down to the brand, and can tell by the tilt in your voice when you’re tired. when you’re sad he gets quiet and present, offering jacket, hand, or silence depending on what you need. if you cry, he’s the gentle fortress: he pulls you in, cheek to your head, and murmurs, “shhh… i’ve got you. i’ll hold it all for you, okay?” and you can feel the sincerity in the press of his palm.

✧ he says the most unhinged things because he’s not great at neat emotions. “i’d die for you,” he blurts once, then immediately backtracks, “[wait. not like that. i mean — i’d also like to live. with you. near you.]” it is earnest, bumbling, and endearing. it’s the sort of proclamation that makes you grin and roll your eyes and want to punch his shoulder, and he’s thrilled by the attention.

✧ one day he tells you something that sticks: “…i think i’d let you win every fight for the rest of my life if it means i get to see you smile like that.” you fold in on yourself with warmth and disbelief, and when you kiss him he freezes for a beat, then cradles you like he’s afraid the world might snatch you away. hands trembling, he grins into your hair, “oh. OH. we’re in love now. okay. no take-backs!” and even when he tries to joke it off, his hands won’t stop shaking because he’s so completely undone.

✧ all of it — the swagger, the noise, the showboating — is a cover for how utterly head-over-heels he is. he’s loud to cover his fear, brave to keep you safe, and goofy because being around you makes everything feel lighter. he will say things that make no sense, act like a fool, and be victorious in the silliest ways if it means you’re laughing. and when it matters most, he’ll stand steady and fierce, the brightest, most dangerous guardian you could ask for — but also the warmest, most ridiculous puppy in your arms.

✧ it’s awful but so precious.

✧ he’s really good at speaking, whether it’s at rallies, casual talk or anything. and the one thing he said that flared up your heart?

✧ “…i think i’d let you win every fight for the rest of my life if it means i get to see you smile like that.”

✧ yeah, you folded under 0 pressure.

✧ you kiss him. he stops breathing. and then holds you up like “oh. OH. we’re in love now. okay. okay. no take-backs!” he’s so nervous you can feel his hands trembling as he holds you in his arms, ugh.

aventurine

✧ he figures it out and immediately starts calculating how to make you fall for him too. once aventurine realizes what he’s feeling, his brain instantly goes into overdrive. he treats it like a high-stakes gamble, studying you, your reactions, your tells, like you’re the most complex game he’s ever played.

✧ it’s not just about charm anymore, it’s strategy. he’s analyzing every word you say and plotting little ways to make you notice him more, like every second you spend not looking at him is a missed opportunity.

✧ suddenly you’re winning at his games “by chance,” he’s giving you his rarest gems “for good luck,” and he’s pulling out the charm like crazy.

✧ the odds always seem to fall in your favor, but anyone who knows aventurine would see right through it. he’ll play it off with a smug grin and a shrug, like, “guess you’re just that lucky,” while sliding another gleaming chip into your hand. and when he offers you gems—ones even other IPC execs would kill to have—he acts like it’s nothing. “don’t read too much into it, just think of it as insurance.” but his eyes are always watching to see how happy it makes you.

✧ still acts cocky and smug, but you can tell he’s genuinely trying, he listens when you talk, remembers the little things, and flirts in a way that makes your heart flutter.

✧ the bravado remains, aventurine's armor is as much a part of him as his shoes, but the swagger is now layered over earnest attention. he hangs on your words in conversations he used to skim, remembers your absurd preferences (how you like your coffee, which walk you favor on a cloudy day), and drops flirtatious lines that hit in a different register than his usual banter. they land softer; they land deliberate. every time he does it you feel him trying, and it makes the cocky front feel almost vulnerable.

✧ he’s literally so extra but tries to act like he’s doing the bare minimum. aventurine 1000% spoils you like a fashion-forward sugar strategist king and pretends it’s “just practical."

✧ he’ll insist the silk scarf was an economical choice and the bespoke coat was “practical for weather,” but the way he fusses over fit and fabric, insisting the hem falls precisely where it should, the sleeve hits the wrist just so, gives him away. he’s theatrical in the nicest way: the label isn’t the point, it’s the smile he gets watching you discover a hidden pocket, the small triumph of seeing something he chose match you perfectly. he pretends this is merely logistics, but the soft way he watches you wear his choices tells a different tale.

✧ one day just casually goes “you know i’d bet everything on you, right?” and you’re like wait. what? he says it offhandedly, light, teasing, like a gambler tossing out bravado but there’s a gravity beneath the line. your startled reaction makes him hitch, just a fraction, because the truth in it is heavier than a joke. for him it’s both confession and wager: he’s staking something he doesn’t usually risk time, reputation, the small guarded parts of himself on you. when the words hang between you, they look ordinary, but they tilt the conversation in a new direction.

✧ aventurine flirts with everyone, that’s just who he is smooth, charming, dripping confidence like perfume. so when he flirts with you at first, he doesn’t think twice about it. but the second you flirt back? not even that seriously, just a little smirk, a “you always say that, venti”—he chokes. like actually pauses. because oh. oh no. that hit different.

✧ he’s used to being the one who sets the tempo; someone mirroring him is usually just another ripple in the room. but when it’s you, when you deflect him with a smirk or a teasing retort, his practiced composure stutters. the breath catches, his brain trips, and for once he’s not writing the script. the choke is nearly audible: one small personal misstep that feels like a thrilling failure, because under all that charm he’s not immune to being disarmed by you.

✧ at first, he tells himself it’s fine. he’s just intrigued. you’re fun to banter with. nothing new. but then you start showing up in his thoughts when he’s alone, when he’s going over numbers, strategies, odds and he’s not thinking about his next bet. he’s thinking about your laugh. your eyes. how you looked at him when you caught him watching you across the room. and it’s messing him up.

✧ the tidy spreadsheets of his life begin to fray at the edges, your laugh becomes a recurring footnote in his head, an image that interrupts his calculations. he catches himself pausing in the middle of an analysis to replay a tiny expression you made, or catching the echo of your voice when he should be focused. it’s disorienting because everything he’s built is predictability and control, and this spontaneous, foolish thing keeps inserting itself where numbers used to be. he flushes with embarrassment and wonder in equal measure.

✧ he starts trying to control it like it’s a negotiation. he’s like “alright. if i don’t talk to them for two days, i’ll be normal again.” spoiler: he is not normal again. he makes it exactly 6 hours before he’s inventing fake reasons to visit your office. “just checking in~! you left a pen behind and i couldn’t let that tragic loss go unnoticed.”

✧ he experiments with distance like a scientist only to break them with charming, ridiculous excuses. the pen is a classic: trivial and perfectly framed as concern, but he knows exactly how to manufacture innocuous proximity and then accuse fate of conspiring. the ruse is sloppy because he’s not good at not being near you; he always finds a way back faster than he meant to.

✧ he becomes so annoying and so obvious to everyone around him. like he’ll see you lift something heavy and go “whoa, didn’t know you were that strong. what else have you been hiding from me?” with a smirk, but the second you shoot him a playful wink back, he turns around to hide the fact he’s literally fanning himself with a clipboard.

✧ his colleagues notice the change in his orbit: slightly less aloof, slightly more focused on one particular presence in a room. he peppers you with observations that sound like they could be market research but are just him trying to catalog your strengths. and when you reciprocate playfully, he’s caught off guard, flushed, a sheepish grin, clipboard defensively up because he’s a little embarrassed to be reduced to the state of a giddy teenager.

✧ aventurine LOVES competition but with you? he lets you win. or at least… he says he let you win. even if he didn’t. because he’s obsessed with the way your face lights up when you beat him at something. “guess i’m slipping, huh?” he’ll tease, but you’ll catch the tiniest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. like he’s proud. like he lives to see you smug for once.

✧ sometimes the victory is real and glorious for you; sometimes it’s arranged with the lightest of manipulations...he’ll nudge a dice, adjust a timing, or feign a misstep. he’ll act wounded and miffed afterwards as if you robbed him, but his eyes shine like someone who kept a secret just to watch you triumph. the tease is his cover; the pride swallowing soft at his throat is unmasked in the smallest, most human of gestures.

✧ when he realizes it’s love, it scares him. not in a dramatic meltdown way he just quietly panics. because aventurine is used to controlling outcomes, reading people, always being one step ahead. and with you? he can’t predict you. he can’t calculate feelings. he can’t even figure out when exactly you became the one thing he’d actually risk losing.

✧ the panic is internal and careful; it’s not chaotic theatrics but a series of small, private alarms going off at once. he reassesses all his assumptions and finds that where there were certainties about markets or favors, there is this vast unknowable terrain of heart. the idea that something might make him irrational, something he can’t hedge against, terrifies and exhilarates him in equal measure.

✧ he gets a little softer, a little quieter, when you’re alone. still flirty, still confident but you’ll notice his voice drops. he leans closer. his teasing gets slower, more sincere. “you ever notice how the room always feels better when you’re in it?” he’ll say with a little smile, and this time, he means it.

✧ the bravado eases in private; the cadence shifts from performance to intimacy. those lowered tones are intentional. he’s testing whether the chemistry translates off-stage. his compliments lose their foil and gain weight, and the little smile that accompanies them is honest, uncalculated. moments like these feel like an invitation into a softer, more vulnerable corner of the man you thought you knew.

✧ aventurine’s love language is gifting, but not obvious gifts. they’re subtle, personalized, and always tailored to something you mentioned once, weeks ago. a new charm for your weapon that matches your aesthetic? done. a rare coin he found on a mission that he says “reminded me of you, shiny and impossible to ignore”? yes.

✧ the gifts read like footnotes in your life: small, precise, and unexpectedly intimate. he doesn’t hand you ostentatious displays; he gives you things that say: i listened. he remembers. that tiny charm tucked into your gear is his way of being present when he cannot be there physically—an emblem of attentiveness wrapped in luxury.

✧ he absolutely gets jealous, but never in a dramatic or toxic way. he just gets smugly competitive. if someone else flirts with you, he slides up beside you like “hmm. looks like i’ve got some unexpected competition. should i be worried?” but he says it while casually wrapping an arm around your waist or leaning into your space with that "this is mine" energy.

✧ it’s a precision move—equal parts warning and playful claim. his smugness is a controlled flame rather than a wildfire: a way to stake territory without drama, to remind others (and perhaps you) that there’s a quiet confidence behind his charm, and that the game, whenever played around you, has become decidedly more personal.

✧ if you get hurt, he loses the charm act instantly. the smile drops. the sarcasm vanishes. he kneels beside you with a deathly serious look and says your name like a prayer. his hands are steady but his voice is shaking, “hey. hey, stay with me. you’re gonna be fine, alright?” he doesn’t joke again until he’s sure you’re okay.

✧ the businessman, the flirt, the strategist, all of it falls away the instant your safety is at stake. his care becomes blunt and urgent. he’s competent, quick, and frighteningly focused on the practical, but underneath that efficiency is a fragile human who finds that each breath you take is suddenly the most important thing in his world.

✧ you tease him once like “what, you falling for me or something?” and he freezes. for a second too long. then he laughs, but it’s not as cocky this time. it’s soft. he leans in, real close, and whispers, “maybe i am. what would you do if i said yes?”

✧ the tease unravels him because the truth is right at the surface now, tender and ridiculous. his whisper is both a dare and a confession, a tiny risk laid bare in the hush. the closeness is electrifying, and his question hangs like an invitation. he wants to see if you’ll match the gamble.

✧ when he finally confesses, it’s not flashy. not dramatic. just you and him, walking home together after a mission, your hands brushing, his voice quiet for once. “i used to think winning was everything. but then you showed up and ruined the game. and now… i don’t think i’d mind losing. not if it means i get to keep you.”

✧ the confession is simple because he is stripped of all theater; there’s no audience, no ledger, only the two of you and a truth he can’t package into profit or charm. it’s equal parts surrender and promise: he’d trade the thrill of victory for the steadiness of being beside you, and in that statement the full scale of how much you mean to him is made plain.

✧ he loves dressing you up. not in a weird controlling way, but in a “i saw this and immediately thought of how stupidly perfect you’d look in it” way. he’s already got incredible taste, so the clothes he buys you are so stupidly luxurious it’s unreal, soft silks, embroidered jackets, matching rings, everything tailored exactly to your measurements (which he 100% knew before you ever told him. don’t ask how. he’s scary like that).

✧ when you go “isn’t this too much?” he just blinks and goes, “you underestimate how much i enjoy spending money on people who make me smile.”

✧ the garments are statements, less about possession than celebration. he treats your style like a private gallery, curating looks that highlight angles he admires. when you try on something he picked, his eyes light up with that small, ridiculous pride of a man who found treasure and can’t wait to show it. the way he watches you move in his choices is intimacy rendered through taste and generosity.

✧ don’t even get him started on sleepwear. one day you mentioned in passing how your “pajamas are ugly” and this man literally blinked and twelve sets of monogrammed luxury loungewear showed up at your door. he acts so casual about it too like “oh, those? just some extras lying around. figured you’d like the silk blend.” each one is in your favorite color. and smells like him.

✧ the sleepwear is peak aventurine, ridiculously over-the-top, but so tender. it’s a soft invasion of your private evenings: fabrics that fold into your sleep like a promise, monograms that whisper familiarity, and a subtle scent he leaves behind so when you slip them on you feel noticed and comforted even in the smallest domestic hour.

✧ but the best part? the subtle matching. he would never do something as tacky as “couples tees” (he says that with visible disgust) but he absolutely goes out of his way to coordinate with you. if your outfit has gold accents? suddenly he’s got a gold chain on. you wear navy one day? “oh wow, look at that, my new cufflinks just happen to match.” if you ever call him out on it, he just smirks and goes “what, you thought we weren’t gonna be the best-dressed duo in the room?”

✧ the coordination is his quiet signature: a shared palette of color or a mirrored accessory that reads like a private joke. he maneuvers the aesthetic conversation without ever stating the obvious, and when you notice, the small grin he offers is pure delight—his way of claiming a tiny, tasteful piece of you without needing to make a spectacle.

✧ the first time you actually wear something he gave you in public, he short circuits. tries to act composed, but he just keeps looking over at you with this dazed, possessive little smile. “mm. yeah, i made a good investment.” like you’re a rare gem he found before anyone else could. he walks a little closer to you that day. lets his hand brush yours more often. calls you “darling” without sarcasm.

✧ the public moment exposes him where once he could be private and strategic, now he’s delightedly vulnerable. the way he claims proximity, lets his shoulder touch yours, and uses a new pet name without irony is his declaration. it’s a small possession, yes, but one grounded in appreciation and a desire to be close.

✧ and if you ever match with him on purpose? like you come out wearing something coordinated just to tease him, he stops breathing. doesn’t say anything at first. just stares. then he clears his throat and mutters “you’re really trying to kill me today, huh?”

✧ you can see the whole world narrow to that one coordinated joke. he takes it as both a playful challenge and an emotional arrow: you made a choice to mirror him, and it feels like the safest, most exciting kind of theft. his response is a breathless blend of mock outrage and heart-flip panic.

✧ “what, this?”

✧ his casual question, tossed out in a tone that tries to keep things light, hides the fact he’s counting heartbeats. he’s suddenly acutely aware of the way your shoulder fits under his arm, of the warmth your presence gives him, and he tries to stake the moment in words that sound smaller than the feeling itself.

✧ “yes. exactly that. never take it off.” (jk. he’s already planning the next set.)

✧ the joke reads as both command and confession. he’s afraid to be owning the sentiment outright, so he masks it with jest. but the afterthought, his plotting of more gifts, the next coordinated outfit, the future little plans, betrays him entirely. he’s hooked on this new currency: your attention, your smile, your presence. and he’s more than ready to invest.

boothill

✧ literally just goes “well damn.” like he knows

✧ he definitely starts out thinking you’re just fun. like yeehaw fun. someone who can keep up with him in a shootout and throw a decent punch if needed, and also laugh at his terrible one-liners. but the second you patch up one of his wounds with a worried little frown and mutter “you scared me, you dumbass,” it hits him like a bullet straight through the heart. he just stares. goes dead quiet. and thinks: “oh no. ohhh no. i’m done for.”

✧ he expects adrenaline and bravado, not worry carved soft and exposed on your face. that small, furious softness catches him off-guard because it’s a mirror of everything he is—reckless, stubborn, and breaking rules—and suddenly the idea that you could be upset about him is unbearable. he freezes because the next logical step—admitting he feels it too—feels like stepping off a cliff. he tries to laugh it off, but the silence afterward is full of possibilities he’s both thrilled and terrified to explore.

✧ he doesn’t know how to be chill about it either. he tries to keep things casual, but the next day he’s like “well if it ain’t my favorite partner in crime lookin’ finer than a fresh-polished revolver” while handing you a flower he 100% stole. and when you say “is that from someone’s windowsill??” he just shrugs like “they weren’t usin’ it right.”

✧ boothill’s attempts at nonchalance are a mess of charm and theft. he wants to be cool, but he’s hopelessly sentimental in practice so he steals daisies like a romantic outlaw and wraps them in a napkin, delivering them with that ridiculous half-wink. he tries to play it off like bravado and ownership, but the small, shy tilt of his head after you tease him says everything: he did it because he wanted you to smile.

✧ starts calling you “sweetheart” and “darlin’” every chance he gets, and gets real smiley when you call him back

✧ if anyone even breathes near you, he’s suddenly at your side like “you need somethin’?” with his hand on his holster.

✧ he treats you like gold…like, proper cowboy gentleman style, but also flirts constantly and lowkey lives for when you get flustered

✧ this man will absolutely gun someone down at noon then spend the evening asking you if you think his hat suits you better 😭

✧ he definitely starts out thinking you’re just fun. like yeehaw fun. someone who can keep up with him in a shootout and throw a decent punch if needed, and also laugh at his terrible one-liners. but the second you patch up one of his wounds with a worried little frown and mutter “you scared me, you dumbass,” it hits him like a bullet straight through the heart. he just stares. goes dead quiet. and thinks: “oh no. ohhh no. i’m done for.”

✧ he doesn’t know how to be chill about it either. he tries to keep things casual, but the next day he’s like “well if it ain’t my favorite partner in crime lookin’ finer than a fresh-polished revolver” while handing you a flower he 100% stole. and when you say “is that from someone’s windowsill??” he just shrugs like “they weren’t usin’ it right.”

✧ boothill is SO physically clingy once he falls. he’s not subtle about it either, arm around your shoulder, hand on your waist, sitting way too close next to you at the campfire like “ain’t no law sayin’ i can’t share a seat with my favorite person.” you nudge him and he’s like “what? you’re warm.” he will 100% sleep on your lap like a feral golden retriever cowboy and act like it’s completely normal.

✧ his physicality is his love language and he is VERY unapologetic about it. he just finds you comfortable, warm. in the quiet nights he’ll pull you in close, chest to chest, and act as if falling asleep perched on your lap is the most natural thing in the world. he thrives on contact: a shoulder leaned into, a hand squeezed under the table, a hip brushing yours. to him it’s intimacy, not intrusion, and he’s baffled by anyone who wouldn’t want to live in that closeness.

✧ he calls you nicknames like it’s his job. “darlin’,” “sweet thang,” “trouble,” and if you ever call him a nickname back? game over. melts. goes pink in the ears. tries to act smug about it but absolutely fails. you: “thanks, cowboy.” him, five minutes later, tripping over a barrel: “h-huh? oh yeah. cowboy. that’s me. yup.”

✧ he lives to impress you. most of his dumb stunts are, in fact, love stunts. “watch this, sugar” is usually followed by something like spinning his gun too fast and almost dropping it, or leaping off a rooftop and totally not sticking the landing but popping up like “ta-daaa.” he’s all bruised and winded but grinning. “you see that?? bet no one’s ever done that for you before.”

✧ gets so mad when someone else flirts with you. not in a scary way—just in a really obvious, dramatic “i’m not jealous i just hate that guy and i hope he trips over his own boots” way. he’ll immediately come up beside you, wrap an arm around your waist, and say something totally unnecessary like “me and my sweetheart were just talkin’ about how some folks don’t know how to mind their business.”

✧ he’s lowkey really insecure though. like yeah, he’s loud and cocky and deadly—but when you show him real affection, like a soft kiss on the cheek or you bring him a snack just because? it breaks him. he stares at the snack like “for me?? no catch? no strings?” and then grins like an idiot. he acts cool but if you leave a note for him or kiss him goodnight he will lie awake thinking about it for 6 hours.

✧ he adores showing off for you. quick draws, sharpshooting, wild tricks with his guns—you name it. but the real kicker? the moment you say “wow, you’re amazing” in a soft voice, he just melts. turns into a puddle of bashful outlaw man and hides his face under his hat like “aw hell, stop it… actually don’t.”

✧ sleepovers with him are so chaotic and so sweet. he insists on being the big spoon, insists you borrow his dumb bandana to sleep with, insists on telling you cowboy bedtime stories that are probably made up but sound romantic as hell when it’s just the two of you under the stars. “…and that’s how the outlaw won his lover’s heart. wild, huh?”

✧ “was that one about you?”

✧ the question is small and hopeful; it’s testing the waters. he’ll freeze, then scratch his jaw and mutter something like “no… unless you liked it?” because he’s terrible at directness. what he’s asking is: did you feel the same way he does when the story ends? and the way he waits for your reaction is painfully tender.

✧ he 1000% gets pouty when animals like you more than him. you pet a random cat and it immediately starts purring on your lap and boothill’s like “okay but i also have hands. and charm. and vibes. what does that furball have that i don’t??”

✧ his competitiveness is adorable. he wants your attention first, even from a stray animal. he’ll feign offense but end up laughing, trying to coax the pet away with a goofy voice and exaggerated affection. it’s partially performative, partially genuine. he’s just so glad you noticed the creature and he wants to be the center of your affection.

✧ “he’s soft. wait, why are you…are you pouting?”

✧ “what, me? pouting? PFFFT—never!” he was btw.

✧ he snores. LOUDLY. but then he’ll wake up if you move even a little and be like “you okay, sugar? need a blanket? a gun? me to kill someone real quick?”

✧ “no i’m just turning over.”

✧ “good. okay. love you.” and then immediately back to chainsaw snores

✧ he loses track of his guns constantly and blames it on you.

✧ “darlin’, have you seen Miss Bang and Miss Boom?” it’s a running joke that he’ll misplace “Miss Bang and Miss Boom” and declare them kidnapped by poltergeists. he floats the blame because it’s a way to get you involved, to watch you roll your eyes and help hunt, and he loves that shared fluster of scrambling together to find something silly and beloved.

✧ “you named them??”

✧ “…you mean you didn’t?? they’re part of the family now.”

✧ (turns out he just left them in the kitchen, again.)

✧ he makes the WORST coffee ever but drinks it with chest-pounding pride like “nothing better than cowboy coffee, sweetheart.”

✧ you sip it once and nearly DIE. it tastes like regret and gunpowder.

✧ he just smiles and goes “puts hair on your chest, don’t it?” you slap your chest, eyes squinting as your cheeks heat up. “it put trauma on my soul.”

✧ boothill is very much obsessed with matching in the dumbest ways. he’ll wear something and then be like “hey. wear this too. we’ll be a duo. a unit. people’ll take one look at us and go ‘dang, they’re in love and possibly dangerous.’”

✧ “boothill this is literally a matching fringe vest.”

✧ “exactly.”

✧ his hat = his soul. but he’ll still let you wear it if you’re cold or sad or just look cute.

✧ but he can’t handle it. like you put on his hat and he’s on the floor. “look at you. look at you. stealin’ my heart and my accessories in the same breath.”

✧ he’s grabbing at his chest like he’s been shot.

✧ you take the hat off and he goes “no wait. put it back. i was enjoyin’ the view.”

✧ if you two ever share a bed, he’s the worst sleep partner in existence.

✧ arms flung over your face. legs wrapped around yours. one time he accidentally drew his gun in his sleep and nearly shot the pillow because he was dreaming about a heist.

✧ “i can’t sleep with you anymore.”

✧ he snuggles closer, “that’s fair. but also i’m not lettin’ you go, so… figure that out, sugarplum.”

✧ calls you every nickname imaginable and makes them up as he goes.

✧ “hey there, apple butter biscuit.”

✧ “what?”

✧ “no idea. just sounded like you.”

✧ he’s definitely the type to pick a fight with an inanimate object on your behalf.

✧ you stub your toe on a chair and suddenly he’s flipping it over like “who taught you to disrespect my baby like that?! she is PRECIOUS. apologize!!”

✧ “it’s a chair—” “no. it’s an enemy now.”

✧ he tries to teach you to shoot and is SOOOO smug when you hit a target.

✧ “look at that. dead center. that’s my baby. that’s my lil shootin’ star. you’re so sexy when you’re dangerous.”

✧ and if you miss?

✧ “aw, well now you’re cute and humble. adorable. 10/10.”

✧ tries to act cool during dates but immediately gets flustered.

✧ you show up looking a little too good and he’s stumbling over words like “i, uh—this whole town’s gonna need new laws ‘cause lookin’ like that out in public oughta be illegal.”

✧ then walks into a pole.

✧ loses his mind if you ever kiss him mid-sentence.

✧ smack a kiss right on his cheek while he’s ranting and he’ll 💯 lose concentration. “—so anyway that guy totally—uh—wait what’d you—HEY—”

✧ he covers his face with both hands and makes a high-pitched cowboy noise that is NOT intimidating. he’s never recovering.

✧ when he finally confesses, it’s by accident. maybe after a fight, maybe after too much adrenaline. he just looks at you and goes “y’know i’d catch a bullet for you, right?” and you’re like “what??” and he just GRINS, rubbing the back of his neck like “oh damn. i said it out loud, huh. well. guess the secret’s out, sweetheart.” and then acts like it’s totally fine while he blushes so hard he can’t look you in the eyes.

dr. ratio

✧ at first, he denies it. violently. love is irrational, an unnecessary distraction, and certainly not something he, of all people, would succumb to. he spends like three weeks convincing himself it’s nothing, muttering equations under his breath and scribbling notes in the margins of his journals about how attraction is “an evolutionary glitch.”

✧ and yet, every time you walk into the room, his pen stills. every time you laugh, his carefully calculated logic cracks.

✧ spends like 3 weeks convincing himself that love is irrational and he’s clearly just hallucinating

✧ he’s terrible at hiding it. his behavior shifts in ways even he doesn’t realize. suddenly, he’s the first to grab your tools before you can drop them, or he’ll appear at your workstation muttering “inefficient setup” while rearranging everything perfectly… even though he’ll scoff and insist it’s only for productivity. when you thank him, he just clicks his tongue and goes, “don’t mistake this for kindness.” but his hands linger a second too long on yours when passing you your gear back.

✧ but he starts acting weird—gets all snarky around you but also awkwardly helpful, like he’s fixing your gear while insulting your aim, “honestly, your trajectory was embarrassing. i fixed it.” he looks away quickly, ignoring the way his hands are trembling just slightly.

✧ when he finally accepts it, he goes quiet. like too quiet. and then one day he just looks at you and mumbles, “unfortunately, you’re… exceptional.”

✧ he’s SO annoyed when he realizes he’s in love with you. like it ruins his entire schedule. “ridiculous. irrational. highly inefficient.” he mutters it under his breath like a curse, pacing in his office at 3AM with your name scrawled in the margins of his notes. “why you, of all people?”

✧ you wave at him the next morning and he nearly drops his clipboard.

✧ he pretends he’s totally unaffected by you, but then you get even slightly close and he short-circuits in the most emotionally constipated way. you lean over his shoulder to look at his notes and he deadass flinches. not because he’s scared—because he’s hyper-aware of your warmth. “must you stand so close?” he snaps.

✧ “…i’m literally just helping.”

✧ and he’s over here, glaring at his own heartbeat like it betrayed him

✧ he’s elegant and intellectual in public, but ✧ totally insane internally when you’re around. he’ll say something like “statistically, your odds of surviving that experiment were… unimpressive.”

✧ you roll your eyes and go “wow, thanks.”

✧ and inside he’s just 🧍‍♂️ you’re so cute when you sass me!!!!!!!!!!!

✧ he hates how easily you fluster him. you once complimented his intelligence and he actually paused, adjusted his tie, and went “…naturally.”

✧ but his ears were so red that he had to wear the statue mask for the next 20 minutes just to hide his expression.

✧ if you ever see him without the mask and say something like “you’re really handsome, y’know,” he will literally look away in silence. no smug comeback. no dramatic retort. just ✧ broken.exe ✧

✧ later that day he’ll text you like “don’t say things like that so carelessly. it’s… distracting.”

✧ “distracting? 😏” his eyes narrow, replying curtly, “i’m blocking you.” but we both know that he won’t.

✧ he shows affection in the weirdest, most autistic researcher ways. you say “i had a bad day,” and he just hands you a data chart he made analyzing your weekly mood swings like “i hypothesized this would happen. i’ve prepared snacks accordingly.”

✧ “…you made a graph about my feelings? 🥹”

✧ “don’t be so emotional about it. 😐”

✧ he completely denies he’s being romantic when he is. brings you tea exactly the way you like it? “coincidence.”

✧ buys you gloves because he noticed your hands were cold once? “don’t read into it.”

✧ reprograms the lab door to only open when it scans your palm too? “security upgrade.”

✧ (he would let you break into a vault just because you looked cute holding a crowbar.)

✧ every time he sees you injured, even a scratch, his brain goes into alarm bells. he covers it with harsh words: “you’re reckless. incapable of basic caution.” but his fingers tremble slightly as they clean the wound, and he keeps glancing up at you like he’s trying to memorize your face, as if you might slip away if he looks away too long.

✧ but his hands are so gentle when he’s checking your pulse, and he stays in the room long after you fall asleep, whispering things he’ll pretend he never said.

✧ he definitely blurts his confession on accident. like you’re arguing over something dumb, and you go “why do you care so much?”

✧ and he snaps, “because i love you, that’s why.”

✧ silence.

✧ he blinks once. sighs. rubs the bridge of his nose.

✧ “…i suppose that’s out now.”

✧ then walks off like he didn’t just say the most dramatic thing in the history of science, leaving you standing there in shock, jaws wide open with your eyes almost popped out of your socket.

✧ he’s deeply possessive in a lowkey way. doesn’t like when others touch you, compliment you, or even stand too close.

✧ but he never says anything. just comes to your side, stands a bit too close, and stares at the offender until they leave.

✧ “were you… jealous?”

✧ “don’t be absurd.”

✧ (ahem, also him, immediately gifting you an encrypted communicator only he can ping)

✧ under all the sharp intellect and deadpan sarcasm, he’s just a sleep-deprived genius who has no idea how to handle love.

✧ you once curled up next to him while he was working and said “you can rest too, you know.”

✧ and he literally just… paused. blinked. slowly shut the file.

✧ “…perhaps… only if you stay.”

✧ he has no idea how to flirt properly, so his affection leaks out in strange, clinical ways. he once drafted a full 14-page document analyzing your sleep cycle and presented it to you like it was a gift. “i noticed you’ve been restless. i’ve… optimized a schedule.” when you looked touched, he panicked, shoved the report into your hands, and muttered, “don’t make that face. it’s… distracting.”

✧ if you ever fall asleep near him, he absolutely freezes. his quill stops mid-stroke, his eyes flick down to your face resting against his arm or shoulder, and he just… stares. utterly still. terrified that even moving will break the moment. later, when he finally breathes again, he’ll pull a blanket over you with the softest care, whispering words he’d never dare repeat while you’re awake.

✧ he gets flustered at the most random times. once, you brushed a speck of dust off his collar and he went utterly blank. “you—why would you—never mind.” his ears burned so hot that aventurine teased him for two days straight.

✧ he notices the tiniest things about you. the way you tap your fingers when you’re anxious, the exact foods you eat first off your plate, how your voice softens when you’re tired. he’ll casually drop those observations like data points. “you’ve been tapping again. nervous.” you stare at him like, “…you memorized that?” and he snaps back, “don’t look so pleased. it’s just… data.”

✧ when he does let his guard down, it’s devastating. one night you tell him you don’t think you’re that important, and he just stares at you, utterly horrified. his voice is low, almost shaking when he says, “don’t ever say that again. you’re… vital.” and then he immediately clears his throat, pretends to be busy with his notes, acting like he didn’t just bare his soul in two words.

✧ aventurine finds out almost immediately. he catches ratio lingering a little too long in your direction, smoothing out his sleeves before walking near you, going quiet when you compliment his research… and aventurine’s like oh? ohhhh this is going to be fun.

✧ at first he just drops little comments like “interesting. didn’t peg you for the sentimental type, ratio.”

✧ “i’m not.” aventurine hums, nodding his head. “mm, of course not. that’s why you keep checking their comm logs like a worried husband.”

✧ at his words dr ratio grips his pen slightly tighter, aventurine only laughs.

✧ aventurine starts making a game out of it.

✧ “oh, look who’s in the room. should i leave? don’t wanna ruin your chances, professor.”

✧ dr. ratio, who’s trying with all his might trying not to turn red only states “stop talking.”

✧ “i’ll be quiet, i swear. unless you want me to bring up the way you looked at them during last week’s mission briefing. that was… romantic.”

✧ ratio tries to stay unbothered. “your deductions are idiotic and unfounded.”

✧ “mm-hm. and yet you started carrying two sets of nutrient vials on every mission. just in case someone forgets to eat again. totally unrelated, i’m sure.”

✧ aventurine’s favourite move is saying things like “oh, they’re looking this way. straighten your collar, lover boy.”

✧ he just LIVES to see his dear friend immediately panic, start adjusting and realise what he was doing.

✧ “…i will kill you.” aventurine shakes his head, crossing his arms. “you’re blushing.”

✧ “i’m overheating from rage.”

✧ “you’re overheating from affection. don’t lie to me, doctor.”

✧ once ratio tries to shut him down like, “it doesn’t matter.”

✧ and aventurine does the slow, smug grin. uh oh, dr ratio thinks to himself. “oh? so if i asked them to dinner, you wouldn’t care?”

✧ and there it is—the visible and tangible proof that dr ratio did indeed like you. the way he visibly tenses, teeth clenched and that one small sweat droplet.

✧ “…i wouldn’t recommend it.”

✧ aventurine smirks (that darn smirk) “oh? is that a threat or jealousy talking?”

✧ “no.”

✧ (he walks away before aventurine can see the ear flush but too late.)

✧ you walk into the room once while they’re bickering and aventurine immediately lights up like “ah, perfect timing. doctor ratio was just telling me how entirely unfazed he is by your presence. weren’t you, doc?”

✧ and ratio, who is trying so hard to be normal only sighs. “i will be filing a harassment report.”

✧ “…on who?” “on the concept of smugness.”

✧ aventurine, who’s witnessing all this, winks, patting his shoulder as if he was inconsolable. “aww, you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

gepard

✧ short circuits. he doesn’t even realize he’s in love until someone asks about you and he’s like “they’re amazing—wait.”

✧ gets SO flustered around you. eye contact is impossible, hands fidget with his gloves, sleeves, or even the hem of his jacket, and he mutters under his breath like he’s doing math in his head just to calm down. he’ll clear his throat, mutter “uh, fine weather today,” and you immediately know he’s panicking.

✧ offers to escort you everywhere. “just in case.” and it’s very knight-in-shining-armor vibes. he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it for himself sometimes—he secretly loves being near you, feeling that protective surge. you joke about it, and he tries to act casual, but the faintest smirk tugs at his lips.

✧ he writes a song about you on the guitar but hides it under his bed like a secret diary. sometimes he strums the tune softly when he thinks no one’s listening, and the music comes out all messy and hesitant, because he’s trying to capture you in sound and fails spectacularly, but he keeps doing it anyway.

✧ it hits him slowly and very softly—he doesn’t even realize he’s falling for you at first. he just starts thinking about you randomly in the middle of patrol, or feeling a little disappointed when you’re not at the plaza when he walks by, or smiling when he finds something you might like. it’s all very quiet. very innocent.

✧ until one day you touch his arm while laughing and he just… freezes. literally short circuits. “oh.”

✧ and then mentally goes..

✧ “oh no.”

✧ “oh no i like them.”

✧ “wait no. i love them.”

✧ and now he’s spiraling in silence.

✧ he becomes so awkward about it. like he’ll try to act normal but the second you speak to him his voice goes up an octave and he drops something he was holding. you ask “are you okay?” and he’s like “YES. I MEAN. I’M FINE. I’M—I’M DOING FINE. THANK YOU. GOOD WEATHER, RIGHT?”

✧ meanwhile his internal monologue is just pure screaming.

✧ gepard is responsible and busy to an absurd degree—but he always makes time for you. he’ll carve fifteen minutes out of a chaotic schedule for a walk and act casual, but he’s memorized every flower along the route, pre-planned conversation topics, and rehearsed jokes. those fifteen minutes are the highlight of his entire day.

✧ he’ll try to act like it’s casual but he’s so excited about those fifteen minutes. he’s memorized the flowers along your usual route. he practiced conversation starters in advance. he’s been looking forward to this all week.

✧ if you bring him lunch or coffee while he’s working, he physically melts. “you… brought this for me? i—I mean… thank you… i didn’t expect—no, i mean, i’m grateful—i just—” the cup is a ticking time bomb in his hands. later, he writes a thank you note with a pressed flower tucked inside, signs it “yours truly,” panics, scratches it out, and sighs dramatically.

✧ he can’t stop fumbling with the cup like it’s a bomb.

✧ later he writes a thank you letter and delivers it by hand. with a tiny pressed flower tucked into it.

✧ he definitely signs it “yours truly” and then panics and scratches it out.

✧ he gets stupidly flustered if you compliment his uniform.

✧ “you look really good in blue.”

✧ “i—uh—it’s standard-issue but thank you!!”

✧ he will think about that one (1) sentence for like two weeks.

✧ he always puts your safety above his own. always. if there’s danger, he will shield you without hesitation, even if it means getting hurt. and when you cry or yell at him afterward for putting himself at risk, he just looks confused and says something soft like “i couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you.”

✧ gepard sometimes leaves tiny, almost imperceptible marks on your stuff to “claim it” without telling you. a scratch on your notebook corner, a subtle symbol carved into a pen—he calls it his way of leaving breadcrumbs.

✧ he has this weird habit of remembering exactly what you said months ago. he’ll quote it casually in conversation and act like it’s nothing, but internally he’s grinning like an idiot.

✧ when he’s nervous around you, he taps his fingers or drums on his thigh, completely unaware that you notice it. he thinks it’s subtle; it’s not.

✧ gepard loves to give you “missions” that are really just excuses to spend time together—“fetch this rare herb for me, and I’ll… uh, help you carry it back safely.” he calls it training; you call it him being dramatic.

✧ he keeps a secret list of things you like, from the small (your favorite drink brand) to the bizarre (the exact shade of gloves you prefer), just so he can surprise you without asking.

✧ if you ever make a mistake or trip, he panics internally, even if he acts calm externally. he’ll act all “it’s fine, I’ve got this,” but his mind is already running scenarios for what he could have done differently to protect you.

✧ gepard is a hopeless softie when it comes to gifts from you. even if it’s small, he’ll carry it around for days, showing it off in the quietest moments when he thinks no one is looking.

✧ he sometimes leaves notes in his own pockets or gloves with little messages to you, like “remember to breathe,” “don’t forget your scarf,” or “you’re more terrifyingly perfect than you think.”

✧ he secretly likes seeing you flustered. it’s harmless, he tells himself, but he’ll drop little compliments or teasing remarks just to see the way your expression changes.

✧ when he’s jealous, he doesn’t lash out—he subtly makes everything about you, like insisting on holding the door for you first, stepping closer in a crowded space, or always being the one to offer assistance.

✧ he has an entire “mental playlist” dedicated to you, moments of him humming or whistling tunes that remind him of you without anyone noticing.

✧ gepard sometimes practices small gestures of affection in private—like brushing dirt off his gloves in the way he imagines it would be done for you, or lightly touching a table the way he would guide your hand if you were standing near him.

✧ when he catches you staring at him or admiring something about him, he freezes for a second, trying to act natural, but then internally panics, replaying the moment in slow motion.

✧ he has a habit of remembering the smallest details about you—how you sip your coffee, the angle you tilt your head when listening, the exact words you use in casual conversation—and stores them in a mental scrapbook just for himself.

✧ gepard’s comfort with people changes when you’re around. he becomes hyper-aware of others’ behavior toward you, always calculating if he should intervene, and sometimes going out of his way to subtly adjust things so you’re safe.

✧ he secretly writes “thank you” notes or little encouragements to you in invisible ink or hidden places, just so he can see you smile when you discover them, without having to admit he’s doing it.

✧ he notices the way your presence affects him physically—heart rate, breathing, tension—and sometimes excuses himself to “stretch” or “check equipment” when really he’s just trying to calm down after seeing you.

✧ every time you patch him up after a mission he goes full stiff blushy mode.

✧ “you don’t have to… i can take care of it…”

✧ but he’s secretly loving the way you fuss over him.

✧ when you tell him “please rest, you’ve done enough,” he smiles like he’s about to cry. “you always know what to say…”

✧ he lowkey tries to impress you with little gestures. helps kids across the street while you’re nearby. carries heavy crates like it’s nothing. gives you his coat without asking when it’s cold. but then you praise him and he’s like “I-I didn’t do it for that reason!! i was just—being helpful!! i-i mean not that i don’t like when you—uh—”

✧ he writes music when he’s overwhelmed by feelings he can’t say out loud.

✧ there’s a whole page in his songbook titled “for them (don’t let them see this)” with scribbled lines like “your smile warms more than the sun” and “i’d guard your dreams if you let me stay.”

✧ you find it. he dies on the spot. full shutdown.

✧ “…you weren’t supposed to see that.”

✧ when he finally confesses it’s the most sincere, vulnerable thing EVER.

✧ he can’t look you in the eyes. he just grips the hem of his jacket and says softly, “i know i don’t always say how i feel, and i might not be good at it… but i think about you. a lot. and when you’re not here, i miss you. more than i should. more than a friend should.”

✧ pause.

✧ “…i love you.”

✧ and then immediately goes “but if you don’t feel the same it’s okay! i—I just wanted you to know. i swear this won’t affect anything. you don’t have to say anything, i—”

✧ you kiss his cheek. he malfunctions. stares into space for five minutes.

✧ later he goes on patrol and accidentally walks straight into a lamppost. sigh, do you see what you do to this man? 😔

sunday

✧ sunday realizes he’s in love like a dramatic theater curtain dropping—full, heavy, unavoidable. one moment he’s lounging with a drink, listening to you talk about something completely mundane, and then...ah. it hits him like a thunderclap. “…this is going to ruin me,” he mutters, setting his cup down, like a divine tragedy unfolding in real time.

✧ he starts quoting poetry at you constantly. your eyes are stars, your laugh is a melody, your presence is the kind of thing that makes him rewrite metaphors mid-sentence. he insists he’s not in love, but somehow ends up writing five sonnets in your honor that he hides in his desk, muttering about “research inspiration.”

✧ insists he’s not in love but then writes five sonnets in your honor. sunday has poems titled after the exact way you said “good morning” once. he flips the page quickly if you ask what he’s working on. “classified,” he murmurs, throat dry, hands trembling slightly despite his calm facade.

✧ sunday gets giddy over the smallest things—your laugh, the way you say his name, the way you absentmindedly tuck hair behind your ear. he melts each time, composure failing in the tiniest microseconds, then snapping back like nothing happened.

✧ compliments start slipping out too easily once he truly falls for you. “you always catch the light just right, you know. it’s… distracting.” if you catch him staring, he smiles lazily. “can you blame me?” internally, he’s pacing, writing half-finished love letters, staring at your name in the logs like it’s holy scripture.

✧ he flirts constantly (but respectively of course) but the second he actually starts falling for you, it gets just slightly more real. the compliments start slipping out too easily.

✧ “you always catch the light just right, you know. it’s… distracting.”

✧ and if you catch him staring? he just smiles. “can you blame me?”

✧ he keeps up the act of composure, but inside it’s ✧ a disaster. pacing in his quarters. writing half-finished love letters he’ll never send. staring at your name in the mission logs like it means more than it should.

✧ he has three separate poems named after the way you said “good morning” that one time.

✧ when you ask what he’s working on, he panics and flips the page like “classified.”

✧ sunday is smooth, but the second you flirt back, he implodes.

✧ “you’re not bad on the eyes either, you know.” you say, completely unfazed and clueless to how your words have impacted him GREATLY. sunday laughs calmly “well, now—”

✧ internally? DO NOT COMBUST. DO NOT LET IT SHOW. BREATHE, YOU FOOL.

✧ he touches you like you’re delicate glass, but his eyes betray a devotion bordering on obsession. brushes strands of hair behind your ear, murmurs, “you drive me mad, utterly, completely,” and then stiffens because he just admitted too much.

✧ he always seems effortlessly in control—until it comes to your safety. if you get hurt? he drops the act. his voice gets lower. sharper.

✧ “who did this?”

✧ and when you say “i’m fine,” he kneels beside you, takes your hand, and whispers, “don’t lie to me, love.”

✧ he stays up all night that night. watching you breathe. thinking about what he’d do to the world if it ever took you from him.

✧ the drama. the longing. he touches you like you’re made of glass, but his eyes say “i want you like devotion, like obsession, like prayer.”

✧ he’ll brush a strand of hair behind your ear and murmur “you drive me mad, you know. utterly. completely.”

✧ if he ever confesses, it’s not planned—he’s too careful for that. it slips out like velvet, like a sigh between lines.

✧ maybe you’re teasing him, asking “do you always look at people like that?”

✧ and he chuckles, soft and low.

✧ “no,” he says. “only you.”

✧ you freeze. he looks down, smile fading just a touch “…you weren’t supposed to catch that.”

✧ if you say it first?? he just stares for a second. then lets out the softest, most reverent laugh.

✧ like he cannot believe you love him back. “…oh. oh, darling. you have no idea what you’ve just done to me.”

✧ he never stops calling you ridiculously poetic nicknames.

✧ “my moonlight.” “my muse.” “my forbidden prayer.” “you little divine chaos, you.”

✧ “you could just say babe, y’know?” sunday hums, seemingly unimpressed. “i could. but where’s the art in that?”

✧ he lowkey obsesses over the small things you do. the way you sit. how you hold your cup. your handwriting. he’s SO subtle about it but he notices everything. and he remembers it all.

✧ you and sunday were just chatting when he brought up something that you had mentioned weeks ago. “you remember that?” sunday, who stops mid sentence, blinks cluelessly. “darling, i remember the exact pitch of your laugh the first time you smiled at me.”

✧ he writes secret music about you. poems. confessions in the margins of philosophy books. he pretends it’s just to clear his head, but every word is about you.

✧ you find a piece of sheet music titled “when they walked in, the world paused.”

✧ he sees you holding it and just smiles. “a simple composition. don’t think too hard about it.”

✧ he will die if you play it.

✧ have i mentioned how he gives you the ULTIMATE VIP package perks?? 😭😭

✧ he never lets you wait in line. for anything. he’ll casually stroll over, loop your arm through his, and go “ah, sorry, they’re with me.” suddenly you’re walking past every annoyed noble like you own the city.

✧ “is this allowed?” you ask when sunday suddenly pulls you to the front of the line with a whole packed line behind you.

✧ “it is when i say it is.” “well okay then…” “…” “a—are you really sure—?!” “shhhhhh, yes.” he replies with his gloved finger on your lips.

✧ everyone else gets tea in little porcelain cups. you get yours brewed to your taste, in a cup that has your name engraved on the bottom (he did that). he places it on a silver tray with a napkin and a handwritten note that says “for the one who makes time taste sweeter.”

✧ “what kind of romantic riddle…” sunday, sipping his own like it’s nothing: “oh? you noticed?”

✧ escorts you everywhere like you’re sacred cargo. he’ll open doors for you, offer his hand every time you get out of a vehicle, and say things like, “careful. i’d hate for the world to bruise what belongs to me.”

✧ “belongs?!”

✧ “…well, i do hope.”

sampo

✧ oh he KNOWS and he LOVES it!! there’s this giddy, chaotic spark every time he thinks about you, like he’s won some cosmic lottery and somehow the jackpot is laughing at his dumb jokes.

✧ he flirts constantly, full of swagger and smirks, but the second you flirt back, he freezes mid-sentence, stammers, and pretends it was all a joke. internally he’s screaming: heart racing, brain short-circuiting, cheeks red, hands twitching like he’s about to combust.

✧ goes out of his way to “get you stuff”—weird trinkets, rare items, even a suspiciously shiny fruit??

✧ pretends it’s all casual until you’re in danger, and then suddenly he’s all business, protecting you like you’re the most precious thing in the world

✧ he has like 1000 hidden talents, he’s the guy who jokes his way through life but suddenly says something that makes your heart stop like “you really thought I’d ever let someone hurt you?” (mr. full of surprises fr)

✧ it starts off as a joke to him. he flirts with everyone right? so what’s the harm in teasing you a little? calling you “sweetheart,” winking too much, playing the “what if I fell for you?” game…

✧ but then you laugh at one of his dumb puns, or brush something out of his hair, and he literally feels his heart trip and fall down a staircase.

✧ he freezes for like 0.3 seconds and goes “…oh no. i’m in deep, aren’t i?”

✧ suddenly your name starts popping up in every dumb story he tells.

✧ “well this reminds me of the time you know who made that face—oh? did i bring them up again? whoops.”

✧ he says “whoops” with the most smug grin and 0 remorse but also his ears are red.

✧ flirts even harder after he realizes his feelings because he’s terrified of sincerity but still wants to be near you.

✧ “you’re impossible.” “mm, yes, but handsome.” at his response you glare at him. “…and also wildly in love with you, but you didn’t hear that from me~”

✧ “what?”

✧ “what.”

✧ gives you the best gifts and plays it off so chill.

✧ he’ll hand you a rare artifact or something weirdly perfect for your tastes like “oh, this ol’ thing? just happened to fall off a truck in front of me. you want it?”

✧ then disappears before you can even say thank you.

✧ he’s SO dramatic when he’s jealous. not aggressive. just petty.

✧ someone flirts with you? sampo sidles up like “wowww you’re popular today! should I go? should I stay? should I fake a fainting spell so you’ll carry me away like a romantic novel?”

✧ “sampo.” you say, tone flat as though you were a mother scolding your child lightly. sampo only huffs, “say the word and I’ll fake a sword wound right now.”

✧ if you ever get hurt?? that clown mask drops in a second.

✧ he’s serious. focused. suddenly using skills you didn’t even know he had.

✧ you’re like “why are you so good at stealth and first aid—”

✧ “shhhh, sweetheart, I’m good at a lot of things you don’t know about. but you’re gonna live, alright? i got you.”

✧ when he realizes he’s really in love, he has a full on crisis.

✧ “sampo koski? in love?? nooo. couldn’t be. absolutely not. well, maybe a little. maybe just… completely. head over heels. love of my life. great. wonderful. i’m doomed.”

✧ he says this to himself. out loud. on a rooftop. alone.

✧ the secret loyalty is SO real.

✧ he’ll act like “pssh nah, i don’t do attachments,” but if someone so much as looks at you wrong? he will destroy them behind the scenes.

✧ you’ll never know what happened. but the person who was bothering you? gone. hmm, wonder how he is nowadays.

✧ and he just shrugs like “huh. weird coincidence, huh?” (he hacked their comms, faked an ID theft, and got them sent to another planet.)

✧ when he confesses, it’s weirdly sweet and way too honest, he probably says something like, “hey, you know how i joke about falling for you? yeah… i wasn’t joking. turns out, your face makes my heart do that annoying fluttery thing. and i kinda wanna hear you laugh forever. so. uh. if you don’t hate me for it, maybe…let me stick around a while longer?”

✧ and then immediately covers it up with a “…unless this is embarrassing in which case i take it all back and i’m going to disappear dramatically now. smoke bomb?? no?? okay.”

✧ he’ll still flirt and tease forever but now it’s got real weight behind it.

✧ for example: “you’re looking dangerously kissable today. what’s the plan, sweetheart, do i survive the day or do i die of yearning?”

✧ he’s the type to names weapon or gadget after you, because..well..why not?

✧ kisses your hand dramatically like “for luck” before a mission or some stealth mission (that will most likely have him involved from a chase with gepard)

✧ wears something you said you liked once constantly. you like this colour on him? wow suddenly his closet looks like a bomb of colour. you like it when he wears tight shirts? no problemo partner! literally compliment him on anything he wears and i guarantee you, he WILL remember it till the day he dies.

✧ does over the top fake jealousy act when you talk to anyone besides him 😭 like wow how dare you prefer anyone OTHER than me!! 😡😡 just kidding, sampo knows that he’s the only one that you love (right?), he’s extremely secure and he KNOWS he’s handsome, there is no reason to feel threatened by any other person.

✧ hides notes in your stuff with dumb pickup lines like “are you the astral express? ‘cause my heart’s always stopping for you.”

✧ it’s cheesy and if it were any other person reading those messages they would be gagging, but between you and sampo? it’s nothing more than beautiful love letter.

✧ the classic escape artist move: whenever sampo is getting chased by gepard or the silvermane guards, he somehow always finds you. he’ll suddenly grab your hand mid-sprint like, “no time to explain, but you look fast—run!” and drags you into some alleyway or rooftop chase.

✧ he thinks it’s hilarious that you’re always unintentionally part of his “grand escapes.” you, out of breath, “sampo why me?!” him, grinning ear to ear: “because you scream the cutest when you almost trip.”

✧ he’ll hide behind you when gepard shows up, peeking over your shoulder and whispering “protect me, dearest,” as if you’re his shield. (gepards like: 😐 stop using them as cover.)

✧ sampo LOVES using you as an alibi. he’ll tell the guards “no no, i was just on a romantic stroll with my very innocent friend here” and wink at you while you’re glaring at him. somehow, you always end up backing him up because he makes puppy eyes.

✧ whenever you two walk through boulder town, kids run up to him asking what he’s selling today. he’ll pull you close and say “this one? priceless. not for sale.” with that smug little smirk.

✧ he gets you ridiculous nicknames in public like “sugarplum,” “treasure chest,” “my sweet little accomplice”—all in that dramatic salesman tone, purely to fluster you.

✧ he once showed up outside your place with flowers, but when you looked closer, you realized they were obviously stolen from a vendor’s stall. sampo just winked. “what can i say? only the finest for you.” (you: “sampo that’s theft.” him: “it’s called romance.”)

✧ you’ll be walking peacefully and suddenly he grabs your waist and yanks you into a side alley. your heart races, thinking it’s danger—but nope. just guards walking by. sampo whispering in your ear: “shhh, don’t breathe too loud.” he’s grinning the whole time while you’re ready to strangle him.

✧ he never knocks. EVER. he just climbs through your window like some shady cat burglar, sprawls on your couch, and goes “miss me?”

✧ always teaches you “shortcuts” around belobog. half the time, it’s just him getting you both lost in tunnels or climbing rooftops unnecessarily. but he claims it’s “faster” and “more exciting.”

✧ he’s the type to “borrow” your stuff constantly. scarf? “mine now, looks better on me.” snack? “sharing is caring.” pen? “collateral, i’ll return it when i don’t owe gepard money.”

✧ whenever you scold him, he puts a hand on his chest like you’ve wounded him deeply. “darling, you wound me—do you not believe in my innocent heart?”

✧ despite his chaos, he actually makes your life fun. he forces you into adventures, makes you laugh when you’re down, and even if you deny it, you secretly look forward to the sound of him knocking—or breaking into—your window.

moze

✧ poor guy is SO confused at first. he doesn’t even understand it himself at first—he just notices that he’s constantly scanning the room for you during missions, not because you’re in danger, but because he wants to make sure you’re okay. his eyes seem to find you first in any crowd, and he can’t break the pattern. it’s small things at first.

✧ he remembers the way you hold your cup, how you tilt your head when thinking, the sound of your laughter in a quiet hallway. it starts to feel like a reflex, something he can’t control, and when he finally understands it, he freezes, hiding in a shadow somewhere while muttering “…what the hell is wrong with me,” feeling like he’s malfunctioning from the sheer intensity of it.

✧ starts acting weirdly shy, avoiding eye contact, tripping over stuff around you, sometimes even going invisible when he thinks he looks bad, whether it’s bad hair day, lack of sleep or maybe second guessing if he has bad breath or not…he will hide.

✧ gets really quiet when you talk, listening with full attention but barely able to speak back.

✧ starts leaving little gifts for you, unsigned, until you catch him and he panics like “uhh that wasn’t me” like buddy we just saw you, it was you.

✧ not only that but you lowkey knew it was him, i mean how obvious could it be? you had only told moze about a specific type of plushie that had caught your eye weeks ago, and all of the sudden it was all wrapped up in a fine, beautifully wrapped present? like really.

✧ forgot to mention but he is slightly emotionally constipated. ✧ despite being emotionally constipated, moze starts showing his feelings in small, almost imperceptible ways. he leaves little survival kits in your bag with bandages, snacks, or even a tiny flashlight, and doesn’t tell you they’re from him.

✧ sometimes he silently appears behind you to fix something you dropped or adjust your gear, and you turn around expecting a teammate, but it’s just him, smirking faintly and walking away like nothing happened.

✧ he memorizes your favorite drinks, snacks, and routines, showing up with them exactly when he knows you’ll need them, even if he’s supposed to be on a completely different mission. when you notice these small gestures and ask, he’ll deny it fiercely, but the evidence is usually too obvious—like the time he accessed the vending system remotely, something only he could do.

✧ but back on the topic, moze does not realise he’s in love for a long time.

✧ he just notices that you take up too much of his attention.

✧ he’s mid mission, scanning crowds for targets, and somehow his eyes always find you first. not because you’re in danger, but because he wants to make sure you’re okay.

✧ that’s how it starts. with patterns he can’t break.

✧ watching you. thinking of you. remembering the sound of your voice when everything else goes quiet.

✧ when it finally hits him, it’s terrifying. like, he’s trained to handle everything. interrogation? fine. death threats? easy. but you smiling at him across the room?? complete system error.

✧ he literally turns away and vanishes into the nearest shadow, clutching onto his flushed cheeks with his hand, whispering to himself. “…what the hell is wrong with me.”

✧ moze rarely initiates affection, but when he does, it’s deliberate and heavy with meaning. he’ll reach out to adjust a strap on your gear or gently touch your wrist, and even if he only mutters “don’t” under his breath, it’s a protective warning that he can’t fully articulate. he leaves little notes or small gifts without explanation, sometimes in your digital logs, sometimes in your personal belongings, always signed simply “—M.”

✧ he memorizes small details about you—the rhythm of your walk, the tilt of your head, the little habits you have—and references them casually in conversation or action, knowing you notice without him ever having to explain why.

✧ he stands slightly in front of you when something’s wrong. puts his coat over your chair when it’s cold. subtly reroutes danger without ever telling you it was close.

✧ if you notice and ask “was that you?” he just goes, “no.”

✧ (meanwhile he just intercepted five encrypted messages and hacked three cameras to make sure you got home safe.)

✧ he’s hyper aware of your routines.

✧ he won’t say a word, but he knows exactly when you’re tired. when you haven’t eaten. when you’ve had a bad day.

✧ you walk into your room and find your favorite snack on your desk and a small note: “Eat. You’ll feel better.” — M

✧ (PACK IT UP LOVER BOY)

✧ he swears up and down it wasn’t him if you bring it up. but your comm log says someone accessed the vending system remotely…with a clearance only he has. but yeah sure, it wasn’t him.

✧ when you get hurt on a mission??? he loses it internally.

✧ on the outside: dead silent, stone-cold, methodical.

✧ on the inside: apocalyptic panic.

✧ he abandons everything else to get to you. “you’re stable,” he says, checking your wounds with shaking hands. you whisper, “you’re worried about me.”

✧ he pauses for half a second.

✧ “…yes.”

✧ if someone flirts with you or gets too close, he won’t say a thing.

✧ moze is protective in a way that’s almost imperceptible until you notice it. he won’t ever verbally confront someone who flirts with you, but the air subtly shifts when he’s near. he’s suddenly there, close, intimidating, like a shadow silently guarding you. he keeps mental tabs on any potential threat, tracking them through cameras, comms, or any surveillance network at his disposal, and makes sure they leave without ever having to step in physically.

✧ he’s hyper-aware of your safety and routines, noticing if you’re tired, hungry, stressed, or had a bad day, and will quietly remove minor obstacles from your path—rerouting danger, adjusting mission logistics, or simply placing a coat over your chair to ensure comfort.

✧ “are you jealous?” you ask, heart racing softly at the possibility that he was indeed jealous. and to your disappointment he groans. “i don’t get jealous.”

✧ but let’s not forget that he’s watching the person leave through six different surveillance feeds just to be sure they’re gone.

✧ when he’s near you, he tries to keep his distance, but sometimes the emotion slips.

✧ you reach to fix something on his collar and he freezes. eyes on you, barely breathing and just whispers, “don’t.”

✧ but when you look confused, he sighs, touches your wrist softly, and mutters “you’re distracting. it’s dangerous. not for me. for you.”

✧ (bro is already in love, but he’d rather die than let you know)

✧ confession? HA. that man would rather be tortured.

✧ it only happens if you corner him, maybe after catching him doing something clearly just for you.

✧ from then on? protective boyfriend unlocked.

✧ he’s not clingy. not loud. not even open, but he’s there. always. you’ll never walk alone, you’ll never be unwatched. and you’ll never be hurt—not while moze is still breathing.

✧ another weird thing is how he doesn’t say “i love you” but says “i would dismantle the universe for you” like it’s nothing. like??? 😨 make it make sense!!

✧ late at night, when everyone else is asleep, moze sometimes sits near places you frequent, quietly watching over you, ensuring you’re safe, breathing, and at peace. he is entirely discreet, meticulous in his protection, and completely selfless in his love.

✧ even though he may never explicitly say it, every small action—every note, every gift, every calculated route he takes to keep you safe—is a declaration of his heart. he loves you so profoundly and quietly that it could go unnoticed, but if you ever see the pattern, it’s unmistakable.

✧ he would dismantle the universe itself to make sure you’re unharmed, and he wouldn’t hesitate for a single second.

imbibitor lunae/dan heng

✧ realises it early but keeps it deeply buried for a long time

✧ dan heng notices little things about you early on—the way your fingers linger on objects, the way your gaze catches the light, the way your voice softens without realizing it—and he files it all away in his mind, silently cataloguing your presence like an invaluable relic.

✧ he has a tendency to appear in places you frequent without telling you, just to make sure you’re safe, but always acts casual about it if you notice. “oh, just passing through,” he says, but his eyes betray a focused intensity, tracking your every movement like he’s guarding something sacred.

✧ he gets more gentle around you, offering you ancient knowledge, looking at you like you’re some divine creature because to him, you are.

✧ his voice always drops when he’s speaking to you. everyone else gets his measured, formal tone, but you get the low, steady, almost whispering version—like every word he says is a secret he’s sharing only with you.

✧ he’ll gently guide you through places, a hand hovering at your back but never quite touching unless you allow it. “careful, dear one. the steps are uneven.” it’s so soft you barely hear it over the wind.

✧ when you’re overwhelmed or upset, he won’t bombard you with questions. instead, he’ll quietly sit beside you, folding his hands in his lap, giving you his full, patient presence until you’re ready to speak.

✧ his eyes soften when they land on you, like a storm breaking into calm. it’s subtle, but even march notices and teases him about it. he only smiles faintly and changes the subject.

✧ sometimes he recites old poems or verses to you without even realizing. his voice is like water over stones, slow and deliberate, and you don’t even care that you don’t understand half of the ancient language—he just sounds so reverent.

✧ he notices small things: if you’re cold, he’ll quietly shift his scarf over your shoulders without a word. if you’re tired, he’ll slow his stride to match yours. if you’re hurt, he’ll crouch to your level and murmur, “allow me,” before tending to you with practiced, gentle hands.

✧ imbibitor never interrupts you. even when you’re rambling. even when you’re angry. he listens with an intent so deep it feels like you’re being read like scripture.

✧ when you’re walking side by side, his tail sometimes flicks closer, like it wants to wrap around your ankle but doesn’t dare. once you stumbled on a rock and it actually steadied you before his hand could—his face went red instantly.

✧ he avoids using your name in public, but in private? he says it like a prayer. quiet, careful, as though it’s something precious.

✧ at night, if you can’t sleep, he’ll sit with you and tell you stories from the xianzhou—legends and forgotten myths—his voice a steady lull that calms you until your eyes grow heavy. he doesn’t stop until you’re asleep.

✧ he is always aware of you in a room. if you’re across the space, he’ll keep you in his peripheral vision, not in a possessive way but like he needs to know you’re safe.

✧ he never asks for touch, but the first time you brushed his hand while handing him something, he froze for a second, eyes flicking to yours. you swear you saw the tips of his horns tremble.

✧ when you tease him, calling him “dragon” or “your highness,” he just sighs, but the corners of his lips twitch upward. “if that is what you wish to call me…” he murmurs, but his ears are pink.

✧ sometimes you’ll catch him looking at you when he thinks you’re not watching, his expression unreadable—like someone staring at a star they’re afraid to touch.

✧ and if you ever get hurt? the mask drops completely. he’s suddenly next to you, voice soft but unshakable: “look at me. breathe. i’m here.” his hands don’t shake until after you’re safe.

✧ if you thank him for anything, he always lowers his gaze slightly and murmurs, “there is nothing to thank me for. i am… honored.”

✧ and the first time you fall asleep on his shoulder, he doesn’t move for hours, afraid to disturb you. his tail curls protectively near your feet, and in the softest whisper you’ve ever heard, he breathes, “…stay as long as you wish.”

✧ probably calls you “dear one” or something poetic

✧ when he confesses, it’s with full soul, like “my heart has known many lifetimes, but it beats for you alone in this one” typa confession.

✧ imbibitor who’s trying his hardest to be calm and distant but is so terribly down bad for you it physically hurts him.

✧ he pretends for a while that it’s just admiration. or respect. or “aesthetic appreciation” (sure, heng.)

✧ but then you fall asleep on his shoulder once and he’s staring at you like you’ve just lit a candle in the middle of a dark cave he’s been in for centuries.

✧ he gently pulls the blanket over you, exhales through his nose, whispering gently to himself, “…this is not good.”

✧ (this is the most emotion he’s shown in hours.)

✧ his dragonic instincts??? oh they’re going nuts.

✧ he doesn’t even notice it at first. like—he starts subtly hoarding things that remind him of you, his “treasure” ✧he starts carrying small tokens of your presence without even thinking: a ribbon you dropped, a pressed leaf from your favorite tree, a stray bookmark with a note you left behind. he tucks them carefully into a hidden compartment in his quarters, hands lingering on them longer than necessary before closing it shut.

✧ a ticket stub. a pressed flower. a little ribbon you dropped.

✧ they’re all in his drawer next to old texts and relics and he gets weirdly defensive if anyone gets near it.

✧ march 7th was just wandering in his room when she spotted a box full of stacked objects. “what’s in here?”

✧ imbibitor, who suddenly appeared in his room blurted out his response—“classified.”

✧ “ooooookay.”

✧ he finds himself talking about his past more than usual when you’re around, sharing stories of ancient relics or old battles, but always phrased in a way that you’ll think it’s just casual history—though in reality, every anecdote is meant to anchor you to him, to invite you closer into the depths of his life.

✧ his tail, horns, and ears betray him constantly. they twitch, flick, or curl whenever you’re near, and he becomes hyper-aware of them, sometimes muttering under his breath or covering his face to hide how flustered he is.

✧ his dragonic features are sacred to him. he doesn’t even let strangers look at them for long, let alone touch. but when it comes to you? his guard falters. the first time your fingers brush against the curve of his horn, he doesn’t flinch. his breath just hitches—quiet, sharp—and instead of moving away, he tilts his head ever so slightly closer.

✧ his tail is even worse. it’s instinctual, twitchy, restless. he hates how it betrays him by curling subtly toward you whenever you’re near, like it’s drawn to your warmth. when you tease him and stroke it gently, he murmurs, “...you’re lucky it’s you.” he means it. anyone else would’ve lost a hand.

✧ in private, he’s surprisingly domestic. he makes tea with a precision that feels ceremonial, pouring your cup first before his own. he’s so methodical about it that sometimes you just sit and watch him, because his patience itself is calming.

✧ he reads ancient texts aloud to you at night—not for your understanding, but because he knows the cadence of his voice soothes you. sometimes he translates little bits: “this verse is about a flower that blooms only in darkness… it reminded me of you.”

✧ his living space is immaculate. neat stacks of scrolls, polished armor, everything in order. but then you leave a trinket behind—a scarf, a hairpin—and instead of moving it, he sets it carefully on his desk as if it’s the most important artifact in the room.

✧ he cooks rarely, but when he does, it’s usually simple dishes with symbolic meaning. one night, he sets a bowl in front of you and when you ask what it is, he explains softly, “a meal once shared between companions before battle. it is said to bring luck. i… wanted you to have it.”

✧ mornings with him are quiet but tender. he rises early, meditates, then brings you tea without a word. when you’re groggy and still half-asleep, he’ll let you lean against him while you drink, silently amused at how small you feel draped across his chest.

✧ when you brush his hair, he goes completely still. no snark, no teasing—just a soft exhale and lowered lashes. if you ask if he likes it, he whispers, “…i could sit here forever.”

✧ when you’re sick or worn down, he fusses in his understated way. blanket tucked around you, cup of warm tea at your bedside, and a soft, “rest. i’ll keep watch.” and yes—he literally keeps watch, sitting beside you like a silent sentinel until you drift off.

✧ he gets embarrassed when you catch his dragonic instincts slipping into everyday life. like how he automatically positions himself between you and an open door, or how his tail coils subtly near your chair in crowded places like it’s guarding you. when you point it out, he just clears his throat: “…habits.”

✧ you caught him once sharpening his spear in complete silence, then stopping halfway because you walked in. “what is it?” you asked. “…i did not realize how much calmer i feel when you’re here,” he admitted quietly, fingers pausing on the blade.

✧ late nights are the most intimate. the world asleep, his armor and composure shed, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he admits things he’d never say in the light of day. “i fear losing you more than i have feared any battle.” he doesn’t look at you when he says it, but his tail brushes gently against your leg, betraying the truth.

✧ his tail shows up one time when he’s sleepy and you casually pet it like “aww that’s cute”

✧ btw you named his tail dan jr.

✧ and this man FLIES across the room in embarrassment. “y-you shouldn’t touch that.” “…why? does it mean something?”

✧“…”

✧ “does it mean you want to mate—”

✧ “no.“

✧ the horns twitch when you’re near. he hates that you know this. you walk in the room and they immediately twitch a little.

✧ “awww they do that every time I enter!!”

✧ dan heng, who’s clutching his forehead could only meekly reply. “please… show mercy.”

✧ acts super normal in front of others but you catch him looking at you like he’s reading ancient scripture.

✧ very serious about your wellbeing.

✧ if you get hurt?? he goes deadly silent and already carrying you bridal style to safety.

✧ “i’m okay, it’s just a scratch—” “no, it isn’t. don’t downplay things. not with me.”

✧ (he wraps your bandage very gently with his hands shaking a little.)

✧ you tease him ALL the time because he’s too easy to fluster

✧ “do dragons kiss?”

✧ “would you give me a scale if I asked nicely?”

✧ “what happens if I tug your tail again? will you bite me?”

✧ every time, his ears flush, and he either leaves the room or pulls his sleeve up over his face like “you’re being unreasonable.”

✧ he brings you a relic of his past. something meaningful and places it in your hands like he’s trusting you with centuries and says, quietly, “…i no longer wish to carry it alone. not if you’ll walk beside me.”

✧ (bro just said “will you be my soulmate” in such a poetic way)

✧ he doesn’t ask for affection. but when you give it?? tail wags once. ears twitch. eyelids soften.

✧ he won’t say anything but he leans into your touch like he’s starving for it

✧ and if you kiss his cheek, he turns away but you can see the smile tugging at the corners of his lips

✧ protective AF but in silence.

✧ “I don’t feel safe going alone.” his reply was almost in an instance. “you won’t be.” then he shimmers into view at your side like a guardian spirit from a fantasy novel

✧ sometimes you’ll be like “you’re so pretty when you’re not frowning”

✧ he blinks at you once, then replies in the softest voice ever. “…then I will try not to frown. for you.”

✧ when he confesses, it’s both poetic and terrifyingly sincere. he doesn’t shout it or make grand gestures; he whispers centuries of emotion in a single line: “i no longer wish to carry this alone, not if you’ll walk beside me,” and the weight behind it makes the air feel charged.

✧ he will silently follow your routines or shadow your steps when he can, always ready, always protective, as if the world were a fragile artifact and you the only piece that matters.

✧ dan heng notices your little quirks—the tilt of your head when you concentrate, the way you sip a drink, the smallest gestures that might seem meaningless—but to him, they are everything. and he treasures them quietly, like one treasures a rare gem.

✧ if you compliment him or show small affection, he can’t hide the reaction entirely. ears twitch, tail flicks, a corner of his mouth lifts, and for a heartbeat he allows himself to fully feel it, before pulling back into the mask of calm composure.

✧ he may never call you “mine” aloud, but when danger arises, when trouble appears, he moves as though the world itself were beneath your protection. his actions speak the devotion that words could never capture.

gallagher

✧ the moment gallagher realizes he’s in love with you, he actually goes quiet.

✧like he’s standing there, wiping a glass or pouring a drink, and you laugh at something small and sweet and for the first time in a long time, his heart does that dumb little thump (literally oki doki)

✧he sets the glass down, stares at it for a second, and just thinks.

✧“…aw, hell.”

✧ he doesn’t say anything about it, well, not for a long while anyway. he just… starts doing more for you.

✧ your drink’s always ready before you even ask. he makes sure you eat, he walks you home when it’s late, even if you insist you’re fine.

✧ you thank him, and he just grunts and looks away, muttering “ain’t nothin’. s’what anyone would do.” really gallagher, really.

✧ (no it’s not. it’s 100% what he would do. for you.)

✧ doesn’t flirt. not directly. but his actions? OH, they’re screaming “I LOVE YOU.”

✧ he calls you “kid” or “trouble” but there’s a little fondness in it like. 😭

✧ always saves you the best booth no matter what!! the juke’s always working, seats cleaned, table wiped spotless and everything is in pristine condition (like he didn’t just wipe everything down minutes before)

✧ nudges your favorite snack toward you like “figured you’d want somethin’”

✧ if you’re upset, he quietly slides a drink over and says “on the house. long day?”

✧ his body language is how he shows he cares!! he positions himself near you in a crowd, he always keeps one eye on you, he stands a little closer when you’re nervous.

✧ “are you hovering?” you raise your brow, eyeing suspiciously at the brown haired man, it was painfully obvious that he was gradually inching to you closer than ever.

✧ he snorts, shaking his head almost too quickly. “just makin’ sure you don’t get in trouble. not like you haven’t before.”

✧ the first time you touch his arm? like just a light brush or grabbing his sleeve?? he stiffens just a little, it had caught him off guard, then he relaxes… and doesn’t move away.

✧ and you swear you see him smile into his glass.

✧ when you compliment him??? he pretends he didn’t hear it. (okay he’s on his deriod!!)

✧ ahem an example: “you look nice today” a nice and simple compliment. not one he hasn’t heard before. while you’re as calm and cool as the wind gallagher on the other hand does NOT make eye contact “tch. flattery’s bad for my blood pressure.”

✧ (he is secretly thinking about it for the rest of the day and gets 20% more awkward around you)

✧ doesn’t talk about his feelings, but shows them in subtle gestures, such as, fixing your coat collar without a word, bringing an extra umbrella without telling you why, walking on the outside of the sidewalk like it’s second nature (a true gentleman)

✧ calls you late at night and just goes, “you good?” he’ll pretend he was calling for something else but he absolutely wasn’t

✧ gets visibly grumpier when someone else gets too close to you, even if it’s the little creatures that hang around his bar often.

✧ you’ll notice the way his jaw tightens, or the way he suddenly has a lot of stuff to clean behind the bar right near your table and a whole bunch of grumbles.

✧ when he finally confesses, it’s so gruff and awkward and precious. he probably says something along the lines of “look. i’m not good at this kind of talk. but… you matter. more than i thought you would. and if you’re gonna be causing this much trouble in my head, i might as well make it official, yeah?”

✧ (sir. that was literaly the cutest thing ever.)

✧ after that?? he’s still the same. still grumbly, still tired, still sighing dramatically when you tease him but now when he says “don’t do anything stupid,” he tucks your hair behind your ear, when he says “take care of yourself,” he brings you a thermos with your favorite drink with a small sticky note on the bottle, the words reading, "

✧ and when you say “i love you,” ?????

✧ a simple: “…yeah. me too, kid.”

✧ after he confesses, he doesn’t suddenly turn into some smooth romantic. he’s still gallagher. he still sighs like you’re the most troublesome thing in the world. but now when he sighs, he’s pulling you closer instead of pushing you away.

✧ he pretends he hates PDA, but his hand always finds yours under the table. his thumb rubs absent circles into your palm absentmindedly, like he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it.

✧ “don’t get used to this,” he mutters, holding your hand tighter when someone bumps into you on the street. (you smile because you know damn well he’ll never let it go.)

✧ whenever you hang around the bar, he pours you a drink before anyone else. always first. regulars start noticing and teasing him about it, but he doesn’t care. “shut up and mind your own glass,” he grumbles, while setting your favorite snack right in front of you.

✧ if you’re sick, gallagher turns into the most dramatic caretaker ever. he’ll act like it’s such a burden—“you’re gonna kill me with all this sneezin’, kid”—but then he’s making sure you drink water, cooking soup that’s actually really good, and checking your temperature every hour like it’s his sworn duty.

✧ sometimes, you catch him staring. not the quick glances he used to sneak before, but long, steady looks like he’s memorizing you. when you call him out, he snorts and says, “just makin’ sure you’re not up to somethin’.” sure gallagher. sure.

✧ he’s a terrible texter—short replies, lots of “k” or “yeah.” but if you don’t answer fast enough, he’ll CALL. “where the hell are you? it’s late.” when you tell him you were just in the shower, he goes quiet for a second, then mutters “…oh. good. just—text me next time.”

✧ he doesn’t admit it, but he loves when you leave little things behind at his place. your sweater draped on a chair, your toothbrush by his sink—it makes his place feel less empty. he never moves them.

✧ when you come back from a night out looking tired, he’s waiting at the bar like always. “have fun?” he asks, but his eyes are scanning you like he’s making sure you’re safe. when you say yes, he only nods, then pours your usual without you asking.

✧ arguments with him are… intense. he’s stubborn, you’re stubborn. but the thing is, he always comes back. even if it’s just to sit near you in silence. he’ll eventually mutter, “look. i ain’t good with words. but i don’t want you thinkin’ i don’t care. ‘cause i do. too damn much.”

✧ if you ever cry in front of him, he looks like it physically hurts him. he’s awkward at first, hovering like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. but then he’s pulling you against his chest, rubbing slow circles on your back, murmuring, “hey, hey. you’re alright. i got you, trouble.”

✧ gallagher has no idea how to compliment you. the words get stuck in his throat. so he just… does things. makes sure you’re comfortable, fixes your seat, adjusts your scarf so you’re warm. when you tease him—“aww, you’re sweet”—he grumbles, “shut it.” but the tips of his ears turn red.

✧ late at night, when it’s just the two of you, he talks more. not much, but enough. about his day, about the bar, about little stories from his past. his voice gets softer, quieter. like he only trusts you with that side of him.

✧ he always walks you home. no matter what. even if you insist you’re fine, he’ll trail after you, hands shoved in his pockets. “don’t argue. i’m already goin’ this way.” (he isn’t. he just doesn’t want you walking alone.)

✧ if you fall asleep on his couch, he’ll stand there for a long moment, watching you breathe. then he sighs, grabs a blanket, and tucks you in. when you stir, he mutters, “go back to sleep. you’re safe.”

✧ gallagher isn’t big on gifts, but he notices things. you mention offhand that your mug broke? next day, there’s a new one on your table. you say you like a certain song? it’s suddenly playing on the jukebox. when you ask, he just shrugs. “coincidence.” (it’s not.)

✧ if someone flirts with you too boldly in the bar, gallagher’s whole vibe changes. his voice gets sharper, his movements heavier. “bar’s full,” he’ll tell them, even if it isn’t, and plant himself between you and whoever’s bothering you.

✧ and when you finally kiss him first (because let’s be honest, he’s too stubborn to admit he wants it), he freezes—just for a second. then his hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, and he kisses you back like he’s been waiting his whole damn life for it. afterward, he mutters, “…about time.”

✧ bonus old man boyfriend gallagher scenarios:

✧ you fall asleep on the bar one night, head pillowed on your arms. gallagher stares for a moment, then sighs like it’s the most inconvenient thing in the world (it’s not). he quietly drapes his coat over your shoulders, turns the lights down, shoos away any loud customers, and lets you rest as long as you need.

✧ he won’t say it but LOVES when you sit beside him during quiet hours. you, him, the low hum of the jukebox in the background—he’ll pretend he’s annoyed when you lean on his shoulder but the way he softens gives him away.

✧ you once called him “handsome” just to see what would happen. he froze. dead silent. then promptly dropped a whole glass he was holding, muttering “damn thing was slippery” even though his hands are usually steady as stone.

✧ he builds you a little shelf behind the bar for your stuff. no announcement, no explanation. you just show up one day and it’s there. your books, trinkets, and even a spare sweater tucked neatly in. when you ask about it, he just shrugs and says “figured you’d be leavin’ things around anyway.”

✧ he fixes broken things in your apartment before you even realize they were broken. the wobbly chair leg? tightened. the leaky faucet? patched. when you ask who did it, he just grumbles “place was fallin’ apart. someone had to.”

✧ after a long day, he simply mutters “you drive me crazy” while smiling into his drink. it’s quiet, almost like he’s talking to himself—but you catch it. and the way his shoulders relax after saying it makes you realize: he’s falling harder by the second. and you don't mind.

note: i’m obsessed with the amophoreus men

taglist 🏷️:  @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @yuri-is-silly @khoiyyu @daydreaming-paradies @xoxoangelsweets if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

"you know you love the attention i give you." his thumb strokes your bottom lip "tell me to stop? as if i'd listen to your pathetic begging. you're stuck with me, baby." his grip tightens slightly "i know you dream about me too..my words, my touch..."

"…and the way I make you feel right here." his hand drifts lower, tracing a slow path that has your breath catching, the air between you charged and heavy. "don't even try to deny it."

your mouth opens agape ever so slightly, but no sound comes out. his thumb lingers at your lip, pressing just enough to keep you silent, his eyes locked onto yours like he was daring you to look away.

“that’s what i thought,” he murmured, leaning in so close you could feel the brush of his breath against your cheek. “you can pretend you don’t want this all you want, but i see the way you look at me.”

your pulse hammered in your throat, but you couldn’t move—not when he was holding you like this, not when his presence felt like it was burning through your defenses one by one.

“say it,” he ordered quietly, the words low and sharp. “say you hate me. i want to hear it.”

you swallowed hard, but your lips barely moved. “i… hate you,” you whispered, though it lacked any real conviction.

he smirked like he could taste the lie. “mmm, you don’t sound so sure, baby,” he said, his voice dripping with dangerous satisfaction. “but that’s fine. i’ve got all the time in the world to prove you wrong.”

his grip tightened just enough to make your breath hitch as he leaned even closer, his lips barely brushing the shell of your ear. “and trust me,” he whispered, voice low and dark, “i will.”

his grip on your face remains, his long fingers digging into your skin. he leans in closer, his warm breath fanning across your lips. his piercing eyes bore into yours, a twisted smirk playing on his full lips.

"you know you want this, don't you?" he lets out a dark chuckle, his free hand trailing down your neck slowly, making you shiver. his grip becomes more bruising as he pulls you flush against his muscular frame. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, a predatory gleam in his gaze.

"you're mine, accept it."

"over my dead body."

you glare up at him, forcing the words past the tightness in your throat. every part of you is trembling, but you refuse to back down, even with his grip still locked on you.

"i'm not yours."

his eyes widen slightly at your defiant response, but then a dark chuckle escapes his lips. "oh really now, is that how you want to play it? you think you can defy me?" his free hand trails down your body, fingers digging into your flesh. "i own you, your pathetic attempts at resistance only make me want you more." he bares his teeth in a feral grin.

"but if you insist.... i'll be happy to put you in your place." he yanks you towards the bed, grip unyielding and searing against your skin. you stumble forward, your heart leaping into your throat as you try to find your footing, but the pull is too strong, too sudden.

“ah!” you yelp, the startled sound escaping before you can bite it back. your body collides with his chest for a brief moment before the back of your legs bump sharply against the edge of the mattress. you flinch, your knees buckling slightly as you’re forced to sit down, his towering presence blocking out any thought of escape.

his eyes bore into yours, unblinking and dark, filled with an intensity that makes your stomach twist. he doesn’t let go of your wrist; instead, his grip tightens, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to remind you who’s in control. he leans in slowly, deliberately, until his face is only inches from yours, his breath warm against your cheek.

“look at you,” he murmurs, voice low and laced with satisfaction. “so quick to fall into place.” his other hand comes up to cage your chin, tilting your face upward so you’re forced to meet his gaze. the mattress dips under his weight as he inchescloser, hemming you in completely, his presence suffocating and overwhelming.

you squirm beneath his stare, your breath coming out uneven, but he doesn’t move back. instead, his lips curl into the faintest smirk, as though your resistance only fuels him further.

he crushes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. you try to resist, turning your head, but his grip on your throat tightens, forcing you to submit. he devours your mouth hungrily, groaning into the kiss as his free hand roams your body, squeezing and groping.

"that's it, stop fighting me. you know you love this." he hums, breaking the kiss, only to trail biting kisses down your neck, leaving angry red marks. "i'm going to ruin you. make you scream for more."

“n-no…” you breathe out weakly, though your voice barely holds any strength behind it. your hands clutch at the sheets beneath you, fingers straining around the fabric as his lips press bruising kisses down the curve of your neck, each bite making your body tremble despite the words spilling from your mouth.

“stop… i…” the protest dies in your throat, coming out as a broken whimper. you can feel your resolve crumbling, piece by piece with every mark he leaves behind. your chest rises and falls rapidly, your pulse thundering as though it’s trying to break free from your ribcage.

you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing yourself to sound defiant even as your voice shakes. “i hate you,” you whisper, though the way your body leans into his touch betrays you completely.

he chuckles against your skin, the sound dark and knowing. his hands trail down your sides, pinning you firmly in place as you finally stop fighting back, your body going slack beneath him.

“sure you do sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as his lips ghost over your ear. “stop pretending. you love every second of this, and now…” his teeth graze your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “…you’re mine.”

you let out a shaky breath, your resistance dissolving completely as his words sink in. you can’t fight him anymore, not when you know, deep down, that a part of you doesn’t want to.

sensing your surrender, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he continues his assault on your neck. "that's my good girl," he growls approvingly, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. "i knew this tight little pussy would be nothing but a sopping wet mess for me once i got you going." his hand slides down between your thighs, fingers probing at your dripping slit through your clothes.

"mmm, you're so wet already. i've barely even touched you." he chuckles, feeling your arousal coating his fingers. "can't wait to feel this sweet little cunt wrapped around my cock." he tugs at your shirt, tearing it open to expose your breasts, the sound of fabric tearing making your breath hitch. your hands instinctively come up to push him away, but they falter halfway when the cool air hits your exposed skin, goosebumps prickling across your body.

“w-wait—!” you gasp, your voice trembling as your sensitivity spikes from the sudden exposure.

he doesn’t wait. his hands slide firmly along your sides, holding you in place as he buries his face against your chest. the warmth of his breath against your skin makes you shiver, and your fingers curl helplessly into the sheets beneath you.

a startled, broken sound escapes your lips as you feel the press of his mouth against you. every nip and scrape of his teeth against your sensitive bud sends sparks racing through your nerves, your back arching despite yourself.

“please…” you manage weakly, unsure if you’re begging him to stop or begging for more. the way your body trembles tells him everything he needs to know.

he hums low in his throat, the vibration rolling through your skin, and you can feel the smirk forming against you. “so sensitive,” he murmurs darkly, his hands gripping your waist to keep you still. “you can pretend you hate this all you want, but your body doesn’t lie.”

your breath comes out in short, uneven gasps, every brush of his lips leaving you weaker, the creeping hand coming closer to your hot hole, your walls of resistance finally crumbling.

"ngh..." your thighs clamp together, slick with arousal, so disgusting. you think. he lets out a guttural groan as he feels your thighs trapping his hand, your arousal soaking through the fabric. "that's it, squeeze those beautiful legs around me." his fingers press harder against your slick folds, rubbing you through your panties.

"you want this so bad, don't you?" he lifts his head from your chest, eyes darkening with lust as he gazes down at you. "don't worry, i'm going to give you exactly what you need."

his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, yanking them down your legs roughly. he tosses them aside, his eyes raking over your bared pussy. he leans in, inhaling deeply. "fuck, you smell so good." he presses open mouthed kiss to your slick folds, tongue darting out to taste you.

"mmmm~ i knew you'd be sweet," he murmurs against your sex, the vibrations sending shivers through you. he peppers your clit and entrance with hungry kisses, then sucks it into his mouth, tongue laving and teasing the sensitive nub. "take it, bitch…let me feed on your cunt." he groans in satisfaction as he slips a long, calloused finger into your dripping pussy.

he swirls it around slowly, feeling your slick, velvety walls clenching around him. at the sudden insert of his slender fingers you your mouth contorts into an "O", letting out a sharp and lewd moan.

"that's it, scream for me." he adds a second finger, pumping them in and out at a steady rhythm. "your pussy is milking my fingers so damn good." he curls his digits, stroking your most sensitive spot relentlessly. "i bet you wish this was my cock filling you up, don't you?" fuck. you were close. at his words your hole clenched even tighter, you hated the way how he made you feel right now.

"oooooh you naughty girl, i can feel you clenching harder around me." he grins, leaning in to suck hard on your clit. "noooooo!" you cry out, your voice breaking as you try to twist away from him. your hands press weakly against his shoulders, but there’s no strength behind them anymore.

"don't fool yourself, baby." he pumps them in and out at a relentless pace, curling them to stroke your most sensitive spots. "thaaat's it, let it all out. cum for me, you filthy slut." he sucks hard on your clit, tongue swirling around the engorged nub. "i want to feel your pussy clenching around my fingers, coating them in your sweet juices." he increases the speed and pressure of his ministrations, determined to wring an earth-shattering orgasm from you.

as your body convulses in ecstasy, he wraps his strong arm around your hips, pulling you flush against him as he rides out your orgasm with you. he presses his lips to your ear, whispering dark, filthy praise as you tremble. "that's it, cum for me like the dirty girl you are." his fingers continue to pump in and out of your overstimulated pussy, drawing out your climax for as long as possible. "look at you, shaking apart in my arms. you're so fucking perfect when you let loose." he kisses the shell of your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine

he removes his fingers from your dripping pussy with a wet pop, leaving you aching and empty. "i'm going to make you beg for my dick before i even consider giving it to you." he leans down, nipping at your earlobe. "now be a good slut and spread your legs for me. show me how much you need to be filled."

your legs part slowly, almost of their own accord, every movement heavy with reluctant compliance. a rush of heat spreads through you as you feel the weight of his gaze, the air thick with tension and unspoken promises. your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding as the space between you grows smaller.

he gently takes your wrist, guiding you to lie back against the soft surface of the bed. his hands move with deliberate care as he settles between your parted legs, the warmth of his body pressing close to yours.

slowly, he leans down, his chest hovering just above yours, and his breath fans across your skin. his eyes search yours, filled with a mix of intensity and something softer beneath it all. his hands find your hips, steadying you as he adjusts his position, anchoring himself in the missionary stance. the closeness between you is electric—every heartbeat, every breath shared in this intimate space.

"'m gonna fuck that pretty pussy of yours yeah?" he grins sadisticly, enjoying the view of your fucked out, overstimulated face. "yeah?" he repeats once more in a mocking tone. your eyes were clouded, you had never been touched before like that. "mmmhm..." was all you managed to get out, your slick pussy twitching every few seconds.

a spark ignites in his eyes—dark, wild, and almost feral. his lips curl into a slow, sadistic smile that sends a shiver down your spine. there’s a dangerous thrill in the way he looks at you now, like he’s been holding back something fierce, something that’s finally been unleashed. the smile promises intensity, a mix of chaos and control, and you can’t help but feel both terrified and drawn to it.

he lets out a deep, guttural groan as he slowly pushes his thick, throbbing cock into your dripping pussy. he moves agonizingly slow, relishing the feeling of your velvety walls stretching to accommodate his impressive girth. "fuuuck, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me," his hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he sinks in to the hilt. "that's it, take every inch of me." he pauses, allowing you to adjust, before beginning to rock his hips in a slow, deep rhythm.

"hah—your pussy is practically sucking me in. it's like it was made for my cock." his pace quickens slightly, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. "i knew you'd be the perfect fit for me." he leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth to match the tempo of his thrusts.

the bruises blooms under his palms as he powers into you with recklessness. the force of his thrusts causes your breasts to bounce with each impact, the hard, pebbled nipples dragging against his chest. "fuck, i love the way your tits bounce for me." he breaks the kiss, panting heavily as he forces his face between your heaving mounds. he sucks one nipple deep into his mouth, biting down gently while his fingers tease the other.

"taste those sweet little nips. you're so sensitive for me." meanwhile, his hips never pause in their relentless pounding, his thick cock stretching you open with every thrust. his balls slap against your clit, the rough contact sending jolts of pleasure through your overstimulated body. "looks like a good pounding was all it took to make you behave, hmm?" he alleges you with his teeth and tongue as he drills into your pussy, made even steamier by the image of his tongue laving your nipples.

"look down. see how my cock is splitting you open? how your needy cunt is clinging to me? you were made for this, baby. fuck..... you.feel.so.fucking.good." his words are punctuated by the slap of flesh and your ragged moans as he fucks you senseless, visually ravaging you in the process.

he pulls back to meet your gaze, his eyes blazing with dark lust as he drives his cock deeper, the thick head rutting against your cervix. "you reek of my dick." he grinds into you harder, his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he chases your impending climax. "that's right, cum on my fat cock. coat me in your sweet juices like the willing breeding bitch you are." with one hand, he presses down on your stomach, fingers sinking into your sweat-slick skin as he watches your body tremble on the edge.

muffled moans escape your lips as he continues to pound into you mercilessly, prolonging your orgasm as he fills you to the brim with his thick seed. the sensation of his hot cum flooding your depths triggers another wave of intense pleasure, and you instinctively clench around him, milking him for every last drop.

"ah—fuck yes! fucccck!!!!" you cry out, your voice cracking from the sheer intensity of the moment. your back arches sharply against the bed as your fingers dig helplessly into the sheets, knuckles turning white. your entire body trembles, every nerve alight as the sensation crashes over you in waves, leaving you breathless. your lips part again, another strangled moan slipping free as you can’t hold back the sounds spilling from your throat.

"take all of it, you fucking dirty little cumslut." with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his release spurting deep within you.

your chest heaves as you ride out the overwhelming rush, eyes fluttering shut while the world blurs around you. the aftershocks leave your muscles weak and trembling, a soft whimper escaping as your body goes slack beneath him.

your eyes are glazed over, unfocused, the world around you little more than a blur. your mind feels blank, too overwhelmed to process anything but the warmth and weight above you. he leans down slowly, his hand cradling your jaw as his lips find yours. the kiss is deep, consuming, and you melt into it without a thought. your body reacts on instinct, lips parting as his tongue brushes against yours. the taste of him is dizzying, and your hazy mind can barely keep up as he presses harder, hungrier.

a soft, helpless sound slips from your throat as his mouth claims yours completely. drool slicks the corner of your lips, mixing with his as neither of you pulls away, his tongue plunges into your mouth to tangle with yours. the taste of your combined saliva and the lingering flavor of your shared climax mingles on his lips and tongue as he devours you.

he groans into your mouth, still rocking his hips slowly to prolong the exquisite sensations pulsing through both your bodies. his hands roam your sweat slicked skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake as he pulls you impossibly closer, needing to feel every inch of you against him.

when he finally does break it, a thin strand still connects your mouths, and you’re left gasping for air, eyes dazed as he stares down at you with that same wild, satisfied gleam.

"every inch of this tight little body belongs to me." he sums you up, his gaze roaming over your flushed features, your sated, well-fucked expression, before his eyes darken with continued hunger.

— BLADE, aventurine, boothill, MOZE

"you're mine. you just don't remember it yet."

✧ “you’re mine,” he whispers, voice soft but dripping with a twisted certainty that makes your blood run cold. “you just don’t remember it yet.”

your breath hitches, and you stumble back, your shoulders hitting the wall. “what are you talking about?” you demand, though your voice cracks halfway through.

his eyes narrow, amusement flickering behind them like a predator who’s cornered its prey. “don’t you feel it?” he steps closer, slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring every inch you retreat. “that ache in your chest… that fear in your eyes? it’s because some part of you knows.”

your heart races, a nauseating panic blooming in your stomach as he raises a hand to your face. you flinch, but he only cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin with mock tenderness. “you used to look at me like i was your whole world,” he murmurs, leaning in until you feel his breath ghost your ear. “and you will again. i made sure of it.”

your throat tightens, the words barely scraping out. “w—what did you do to me?”

he chuckles low, the sound vibrating against your skin as he presses closer. “i took away what hurt you. i took away the doubts, the lies… all the things that made you want to run from me.” his lips hover at your ear now, and his voice drops to a near growl. “and now, you’re starting over. with me. exactly where you belong.”

your knees weaken as his grip shifts to your hips, holding you firmly in place. his eyes search yours, but it’s not affection you see there—it’s possession, complete and unrelenting.

“i’ll make you remember,” he says softly, almost sweetly, though his fingers dig into your skin like iron. “and when you do… you’ll thank me for it.”

his body presses close, but his movements are jittery at first, like he’s not sure if he should be this close. his breath is uneven, and you can see the faintest flush creeping up his neck as he towers over you, but he doesn’t move away. instead, his hands tighten against your sides, pinning you softly but firmly between him and the wall.

“i… i don’t want to scare you,” he mumbles, voice trembling slightly. his eyes dart away from yours for a second, like he can’t bear to see the fear in them—but then he steels himself, leaning in closer until there’s no space left between you. “b-but you keep trying to leave me, and i can’t… i can’t let that happen. not again.”

you feel the tremor in his hands, but his grip doesn’t loosen. if anything, it grows stronger, a quiet, desperate strength that keeps you trapped in place no matter how you try to squirm away.

“p-please stop fighting me,” he stammers, though his words carry a weight that doesn’t leave room for refusal. “i’m not… i’m not letting go. you’re mine. you always were…” he swallows hard, his voice dropping to a whisper, “even if you don’t remember.”

he buries his face against your neck suddenly, shuddering as though just being this close is too much for him to handle. but then you feel the soft press of his lips against your skin, hesitant at first, before they grow more insistent.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, his breath shaky and warm against your neck. “i’m so sorry i have to do this… but you’ll understand soon. i’ll make you remember how much you need me.”

his arms wrap around you now, crushing you to his chest as his quiet, shaky breaths mix with the frantic beat of your heart. and though he trembles with nerves, there’s no mistaking the unrelenting strength in his embrace.

without another word, he crush my lips to yours, his mouth hungry and desperate, his tongue probing deep into your mouth. he kisses you like he's starved for air, as if he'll die if he didn't taste you right now.

as you kiss, his hands roam over your body, grasping and clawing at your skin, leaving scratches and marks that would linger long after you're done. he pulls you closer, his fingers digging into your hips before he spin you around, pushing you against the wall, his mouth never leaving yours as he fumble with your clothes, tearing them off with a desperation that's almost savage.

and when you're naked. your eyes widen at the sight and immediately attempt to cover it with your shaking hands. "no—!" you yelped before he removed your hands forcefully, brows furrowed. "let me taste, please." he begs softly, and for an instant you almost fold, almost.

you watched his eyes travel down to your glistening folds, he swallows hard, the sight making his hands tighten instinctively on your thighs. he hesitates for a moment, almost shy, his gaze flickering over the soft patch of hair framing your heat. the contrast only makes you look more vulnerable, more real beneath him.

“y-you’re… beautiful,” he murmurs shakily, his fingers brushing gently along the edge of your hip, like he’s trying to memorise everything about you. in the heat of the moment his mouth and tongue instantly begin exploring your pussy, licking and sucking with a ferocity that's almost animalistic.

he look up at you, his eyes blazing with a feral intensity, mouth still wrapped around your pussy. "i'll make you remember," he whispers, his voice husky and raw. "i'll make you mine, forever and always." he breathe, his hot breath whispering against your twitching cunt as he continue to devour you with fingers digging into your thighs as he holds you in place.

then he suddenly pauses, lifting his head from your glistening pussy. he gazes up at you with a mix of hunger and reverence, his hungry eyes drinking in the sight of you. slowly, almost tauntingly, he leans in, his warm breath fanning over your tender flesh. he presses a delicate kiss to your clit, lips lingering for a moment before grazing the sensitive nub with my teeth. a soft moan escapes him at the taste of you before he wraps his arms around your hips, pulling you closer.

you only got louder with the lustful sensation of his warm, slippery tongue grazing against your puffy pussy. a guttural moan escapes your lips as he works you over with his insistent tongue. you can feel your pussy clenching rhythmically around nothing but air, your body trembling with mounting pleasure.

he memorised every curve, every dip and swell of your body as his tongue began to explore, tracing the delicate folds, dipping into your entrance, and swirling around your clit in slow, teasing circles. his hands roam over your thighs, your buttocks, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

he work at your pace, savouring every gasp, every whine, every tremble that escapes your lips. with each pass of his tongue, he prays that he could bring you to the heights of pleasure, to make you surrender completely to his devotion. yes, what an ideal plan.

a desperate, feverish hunger consumes him as he presses his face further between your thighs. his tongue flicks and swirls against your slick, swollen folds, his lips sucking and nibbling hungrily. he just could not get enough of your intoxicating taste and the way your body quivers under his ministrations.

with a soft moan he flattens his tongue and drags it firmly up the length of your pussy, applying firm pressure to your sensitive clit. your back arches, pressing you harder against the wall as he holds your trembling thighs in a vice-like grip, pinning you in place. his dark, feverish eyes glare up at you, drinking in every twitch, every gasp, every desperate sound that escapes your lips. he wants to devour you, to make you scream his name as you come undone beneath his skilled, relentless mouth.

he plunges his tongue deep inside you, fucking you with long, firm strokes, my nose nuzzling against your clit. the obscene, wet sounds of the wet slurps fill the air as i lose myself in the task of bringing you to the edge of ecstasy.

his single-minded focus remains fixed on your dripping, quivering sex, his breath hot and heavy against your sensitive flesh as he continues his frenzied assault. with a lewd moan, he extends his long, slender finger, teasing the slick entrance to your core. your eyes widen at the sight, oh no, he's totally gonna finger me!

"wait! i dont—i don't want—" you plead, shaking your head in a frenzy but he pays no mind and slides it inside you with a slow, deliberate push, savouring the tight, hot glove of your pussy as it grips his finger. his thumb finds your aching clit, rubbing quick, tight circles that make you shudder and cry out.

feeling your walls clench around his invading digit, he begins to pump, driving his finger in and out in a slow and gradual rhythm designed to drive you wild. his free hand reaches around to palm your ass, giving it a hard squeeze as he tilts his head upward, giving you his all and undivided attention with his doe eyes despite both the pain and pleasure on your throbbing, dripping slit.

humming with carnal pleasure, he picks up the pace, finger fucking you with abandon as he lap at your clit and savour your essence with his tongue. his eyes blaze with a feral intensity as he devours you, his inner world consumed by the dark, primal need to make you come apart at the seams.

he curls his finger, pressing firmly against your most sensitive spots, his tongue flicking your swollen clit in time with his strokes. he can feel your climax building, your whole body coiling tighter with each passing second.

"cum for me, (y/n)," he rasp, his words punctuated by the obscene, wet sounds of his relentless finger fucking. "i want to feel you shatter around me."

with every filthy word that spills from his merciless lips, he could feel the dam inside you beginning to crumble. your once reserved demeanor is replaced by a desperate, insatiable hunger for physical release. "ohoohhh, yessss! just like that, mmmyeeeaaah! eat my pussy, make me cum hard! finger me, im getting close..!"

the admission spills from your lips like a dam breaking, a cathartic moment of surrender that leaves you helpless and exposed, a willing slave to the dark desires that now consume you entirely. and in that moment, he knows that he has truly broken you—a delicious, irreparable ruin, forever altered by the power of his uncompromising, all consuming lust.

"don't stop, don't you dare, don'tstopdon'tstopdon'tstop—ahnnnng! i'm—I'm—CUMMMINGGG!"

he continues his febrile licking and stroking as you dissolve in ecstasy, savouring the sweet nectar of your release and milking every last tremor from your convulsing body. as your body tenses and a guttural moan escapes your lips, he feels your orgasm beginning to wash over you. his tongue flicks your swollen clit with frenzied intensity, lapping up the slick arousal dripping from your pulsing pussy.

he looks at you with satisfaction, the sound muffled against your flesh as he drinks you in. his finger curls and rubs relentlessly against that sweet spot inside, coaxing you higher and higher until your back arches and your thighs clamp around his head. your trembling cries of ecstasy fill the air as you shatter, your walls clenching and fluttering around his digit.

he continues to work you through the aftershocks, slowing my pace but refusing to relent until your body finally goes limp, quivering from the intensity of your powerful climax. only then does he pull back, gazing up at you with dark, hungry eyes, his lips glistening with your essence.

before you can process what could possibly happen next, his arms tighten around your waist and he pulls you down with him. the impact is sudden but controlled as he lowers you both to the floor, never letting you slip from his grasp.

you gasp softly, your palms pressing against his chest for balance as he leans back, propping himself up slightly. his strong hands guide you easily, settling you astride his lap. the floor beneath you feels cold and unsteady, but his grip on your hips is anything but—it’s firm, possessive, like he’s anchoring you in place.

he looks up at you through dark, half-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling against yours. “stay right there,” he murmurs, his voice rough and commanding. his thumbs rub slow circles into your hips, not to soothe you but to remind you he’s the one holding you where he wants you.

you try to shift, to lean away, but his hands tighten instantly, holding you down with an unrelenting strength. the closeness makes your heart race, your body trembling as his gaze roams up and down your figure, lingering with a hunger that leaves you breathless.

“don’t move,” he whispers, his lips brushing just barely against your ear as he pulls you closer still, until you can feel every inch of his solid frame beneath you. “you’re exactly where you belong."

"you don't know what you're doing to me," he murmurs, voice gravelly with something dangerously close to reverence. his cock pulses against your stomach, hard and insistent. only now do you notice how...pretty his cock is. pale with a flushed pink tip, not too girthy but more so long...about 6 inches hard? and his veins?

you wonder how it would feel to be stretched out by him.

you suddenly snap out of your trance with his hands grabbing onto your wrist, grip tightening as he guides them to his cock with slow, deliberate movements. his breath comes heavier now, the edge of control slipping as you touch him. "god, you feel good," he whimpers, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your bones. but don't you dare stop.

he watches you, his expression unreadable, but there's a hunger in his stare that makes your pulse race. every movement you make, every flick of your wrist, sends a jolt through him. he leans into your touch, letting out a guttural sound that's all pleasure.

a string of saliva drips from the corner of his mouth as he watches you work, his breathing becoming more labored with each stroke. his hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, more contact. he's lost in the sensation, in the way your soft hands feel against his throbbing length.

"fuck, he groans, his voice strained. "just like that. don't stop...." his hands slide up your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. he grips your shoulders, pulling you closer until your breasts press against his chest. his eyes are glazed over, consumed by lust, and he isn't hiding it. he arches into your touch, his cock pulsing in your grip.

your fingers dance across his skin in rapid succession, teasing out every last drop of pleasure from him. his hips jerk upward involuntarily as you stroke him faster and faster still. you know he's close, his breaths quickening with each stroke before it hits you.

with a porn star-worthy moan, he thrusts into your hands, his hips snapping upward as his orgasm rips through him. hot cum splatters across your breasts and neck, painting your skin with evidence of his desire. his body shudders violently, muscles tensing and relaxing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over him.

"fuck!" he gasps, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise. as he finally gets a good luck at his mess on you he chuckles. "look at you. covered in me. how cute..." slowly, he opens his eyes, taking in the sight of you marked by his release. a predatory gleam flashes in his gaze, a mix of satisfaction and renewed hunger. he reaches out, swiping a finger through the mess on your collarbone before bringing it to his lips.

"delicious," he purrs, savouring the taste. your breath stutters as you watch him, your cheeks burning hotter with every second. you can barely process the sight of his finger glistening in the low light before it disappears past his lips.

“d-don’t…” you mumble, your voice trembling, barely audible. the haze clouding your thoughts makes it hard to think straight, and your body feels heavy, pliant under his touch. he tilts his head at your weak protest, that same dark intensity glimmering in his eyes, but there’s a hint of something softer there too—like he’s savoring every bit of your flustered reaction.

his hands slide up from your hips to your lower back, holding you snugly against his chest. “you’re so cute when you’re shy,” he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

with his fingers still against your back, and you feel the change instantly. the warmth in his touch vanishes, replaced by something firmer, unrelenting. his hands grip your hips suddenly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he looks up at you with a sharp, burning gaze.

“enough,” he snaps, his voice deeper now, leaving no room for argument. “i’ve been patient with you… too patient.”

you freeze, wide-eyed, but he doesn’t let you move. his hands pull you down harder onto his lap, his strength impossible to fight as his breath comes heavy against your neck.

“no more hesitation,” he growls, the words vibrating through your chest. “you’re going to take me now… every inch.”

“w-wait—” you try, but his hold on your hips tightens, cutting off any chance to scramble away. “no,” he says firmly, his tone dropping to a dangerous whisper as he leans close enough for his lips to brush your ear. “you’re done running. you’re mine… and i’m going to make sure you feel that.”

in one fluid motion, he flips you onto your back, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. his other hand trails down your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. when he reaches your core, he pauses, his fingers hovering just above where you need him most.

"beg for it," he commands, his voice a dark whisper. "tell me how badly you want my cock inside you." his eyes bore into yours, filled with challenge and barely restrained desire. he wants to hear you say it—to admit how much you crave him, how empty you feel without him filling you completely.

his thumb brushes against your clit, teasing, torturing. he's waiting, watching your reactions intently, ready to take you apart piece by piece if necessary. his other hand slides lower, two fingers plunging into your wetness without warning. he curls them, stroking that spot deep inside that makes your vision blur. his thumb circles your clit, applying just enough pressure to keep you teetering on the edge.

"o—okay, please fuck me..."

without another word, he sheathes himself inside you in one brutal thrust. your walls stretch around him as if welcoming him home. he stills for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried deep within you.

"shit," he breathes, hands travelling up before cupping your breasts. "always so perfect. so tight." then he moves, setting a punishing pace. each snap of his hips drives him deeper, harder, chasing the pleasure only you can give him. his hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat. he licks a stripe up your neck, tasting salt and sweat and pure, undiluted need.

"that's it," he pants against your skin. "take it. take everything i give you..." as he thrusts into you, his cock disappears inch by inch into your slick, glistening folds. the obscene squelch of your arousal fills the room, mingling with the slap of skin on skin and your shared moans. his shaft stretches you deliciously, hitting depths no one else ever has.

each withdrawal leaves your pussy clinging to him, reluctant to let go. but he always pushes back in, burying himself to the hilt with a groan that vibrates through both your bodies. your juices coat his length, making the slide easier even as he pounds into you relentlessly. his balls slap against your ass with every thrust, the lewd sound echoing in the room. he's lost in the rhythm, in the feeling of your warmth enveloping him, squeezing him tighter than anything he's ever felt.

in the heat on the moment he redoubles his efforts, his hips snapping forward with animalistic force. the bed creaks beneath you, threatening to break under his passion. his fingers dig into your thighs, spreading you wider as he rails into your sopping cunt.

"yes, fuck, just like that!" you cry out, your nails raking down his back. the sting only spurs him on, driving him to fuck you harder, faster, deeper. pre-cum beads at the tip of his cock, mixing with your slickness as he pistons in and out. the room fills with the filthy sounds of sex—wet smacks, gasping breaths, the occasional whimper torn from your throat. he's lost in the feeling of your pussy milking his cock, begging for his seed.

as your climax hits, he feels your walls clamp down on him like a vice. with a roar, he buries himself deep inside you one last time, his cock pulsing as he spills his load directly into your spasming cunt. his fingers find your nipples, pinching and twisting them roughly as he rides out the waves of his own release.

through it all, he keeps you pinned above him, his grip on your neck firm but not painful. his mouth crashes against yours in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy. he pours everything into it—his obsession, his possession, his twisted love—and when he finally breaks away, you're left gasping for air. tears prick at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. he watches them fall, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

before you can catch your breath, he's rolling you onto your stomach. his hand presses between your shoulder blades, forcing you down into the mattress. the heat of his body hovers over you, his erection pressing insistently against your thigh.

"we're far from done," he growls in your ear, his teeth grazing the shell. "i'm going to ruin you for anyone else. by the time i'm finished, you won't remember your own name—only mine." he spreads your legs with his hands, lining himself up with your entrance once more. without warning, he sheathes himself inside you, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. his pace is relentless, driven by a hunger that seems endless.

"mine," he repeats, like a mantra, with each powerful thrust. "all mine."

— jiaoqiu, PHAINON, IMBIBITOR LUNAE, dr. ratio, ARGENTI

"we're supposed to be competing, but last night i tasted your lips instead of victory."

✧/✧/✧/✧ you’ve been rivals for as long as you can remember, always neck-and-neck in every competition. whether it was training matches, missions, or public challenges, you pushed each other to be better—and tore each other down at the same time. the rivalry was infamous, and neither of you ever let the other forget it.

but underneath the sharp words and glares was something else, something unspoken. every heated argument felt like it teetered on the edge of something more, every accidental brush of hands lingered a little too long. you told yourself it was hatred. it had to be.

last night, though, everything cracked. the competition had been brutal, leaving you both battered and breathless. you’d cornered him, intent on taunting him for nearly losing—and instead, his mouth was on yours. the kiss had been fierce, messy, and desperate, and you hated how much you’d wanted it.

now, you’re back on the field, trying to push the memory away, but the ghost of his lips still lingers.

“we’re supposed to be competing,” you bite out, shoving past him as you pace the edge of the training field, your heart still hammering from last night’s mistake. “but last night…” your voice falters, the memory flashing behind your eyes—the press of his mouth against yours, the way you’d melted before you could stop yourself. “…last night i tasted your lips instead of victory.”

he doesn’t move from where he’s leaning against the wall, arms folded lazily across his chest like he’s completely unbothered. but his eyes—sharp, predatory—follow every step you take.

“and?” he drawls finally, voice low and maddeningly calm.

you whirl on him, heat rising to your cheeks. “and it shouldn’t have happened,” you snap. “we’re rivals, not—”

he pushes off the wall in a single, fluid motion, closing the distance between you before you can finish the sentence. the smirk playing on his lips makes your stomach twist.

“not what?” he murmurs, voice a whisper against your ear as he leans in close. “not allowed to want each other? because if that’s true… we’ve got a problem.”

his fingers brush yours, barely a touch, but it sends a jolt straight through you.

his other hand slides down to rest possessively on your hip, pulling you flush against him. you can feel the heat radiating off his body, the hard planes of his muscles pressing into your softer curves. "all that fire between us… it's not just from our rivalry. deep down, you know exactly what it is."

he leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks in a low, seductive rumble. "stop fighting it. stop pretending you don't crave my touch, my taste, the feeling of me buried deep inside you."

his words caught you off guard as you distance yourself from him slightly, giving both you and him barely enough space. "what?! are you crazy?!" you shake your head. "i do NOT want to be associated with you like that!"

“like what?” he smirks, that infuriating curl of his lips making your stomach twist. god, you hated that look. you hated him—every cocky word, every smug glance. and you were certain he felt the same; you were rivals, enemies on the field. so why… why does it suddenly feel like that’s no longer true?

he pushes you closer and you instinctively step back, your shoulder brushing against the doorframe of the gym.

“w-what are you doing?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but it comes out shakier than you’d like.

he doesn’t answer, just keeps moving forward, each step purposeful and unhurried. his presence is overwhelming, his eyes locked on yours as if daring you to run.

your back hits the edge of the door, and his hand comes up to push it open with ease. the door swings inward with a low creak, the quiet echo of the empty gym room swallowing the sound.

the bench was wide enough for both of you, its black, padded surface cool and firm beneath your thighs. the faux leather covering had that faint, distinct scent of gym equipment, slightly slick from the polish they used to clean it. the sturdy matte black steel frame didn’t budge, even as you shifted, the faint creak of the padding the only sound filling the room alongside your ragged breaths.

you try to sidestep him, but he’s already there, blocking the way. his hand presses lightly—yet firmly—at your hip, guiding you backwards, deeper into the dimly lit room.

“stop,” you whisper, but he only tilts his head, that maddening smirk tugging at his lips again as he continues to close the distance between you.

one more step and your back meets the cool wall of the gym, your escape completely cut off. his arm braces beside your head, trapping you there as he leans in, voice dropping low and deliberate.

“now,” he murmurs, eyes glinting, “tell me again how much you hate me.” he crowds into your personal space, one hand braced on the wall beside your head, the other coming up to wrap loosely around your waist. not squeezing, just a light pressure. his body pins you to the wall, all hard muscle and barely restrained power.

"your pulse is racing under my fingertips, princess. betraying your true desires." his voice is a low purr, sending shivers down your spine. "go ahead, say it. tell me you hate me while your body screams otherwise. while your nipples strain against your shirt, begging for my touch. while your thighs clench together, aching to be filled."

he rolls his hips against yours, letting you feel the thick ridge of his erection through the fabric of his pants. "c'monnnn loosen up a little..." he says, his tone light but his closeness anything but.we can't always be enemies forever right?"

you swallow hard, your pulse hammering as his breath brushes your ear. “g-get off me,” you manage, though your voice shakes, betraying you completely. a wicked grin spreads across his face at your words, his eyes gleaming with triumph and dark promise. oh, i don't think so, you don't get to dismiss me that easily."

in a flash, he hooks a leg between yours, using the leverage to grind his thigh against your core. at the same time, his hand slides from your waist to tangle in your hair, tugging your head back sharply. "we're not enemies. we never were." he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks, his hot breath fanning over your skin. "can't you feel it? this electricity between us, this undeniable pull…"

you can’t deny it—it feels good. better than you expected, even if you won’t admit it out loud.

he smirks against your skin, sensing your reluctant enjoyment. his thigh grinds harder against your core, the friction delicious even through the layers of clothing. "that's it, baby. just give in. stop fightin' this feeling." his free hand trails down your side, fingers splaying across your hip possessively. he nips at your earlobe before soothing the sting with his tongue.

"im going to worship this body until you're trembling and begging for my cock. until the only word you remember is my name." he whispers in that damn sultry voice of his. he captures your lips in a searing kiss, all teeth and tongue and pent-up passion. it's dominating, consuming, leaving no doubt about his intentions. "mmmm, you taste even better than i imagined. sweet as honey and twice as addictive."

your breath hitches as his hands trail about, his touch firm yet unbearably slow. every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, but you’re frozen, unable to form the words to stop him. his gaze never leaves yours, watching every flicker of emotion cross your face, the corner of his lips twitching upward.

emboldened by your lack of resistance, his hands begin to roam your curves more boldly. one palm cups and squeezes your breast through your shirt, thumbing your nipple roughly. the other hand slides down to grope your ass, kneading the firm flesh and pulling you harder against his grinding thigh.

"fuck, these tits… i've wanted to get my hands on them for so long." he breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. marking you as his. "gonna make you feel so good, gonna ruin you for anyone else." his fingers find the hem of your shirt and slip underneath, caressing the smooth skin of your stomach before sliding higher to fully cup your breast.

he groans appreciatively as his calloused palm envelops your soft breast, relishing the weight of it in his hand. his fingers pluck and roll your nipple, coaxing it into a stiff peak. "mmm, sensitive aren't you? love how responsive this pretty little body is…" he ducks his head, capturing a hardened bud between his teeth through the thin fabric of your bra. he laves it with his tongue, wetting the material and creating delicious friction.

his other hand continues its exploration, dipping teasingly beneath the waistband of your pants to trace the upper swell of your ass. "bet you're getting wet for me already, aren't you baby? i can practically feel the heat radiating from your poor aching pussy."

you let out a breathy moan as his fingers tease my sensitive skin, your head falling back against the wall. "a-ahh…" your voice is needy and shaky, betraying how much you're enjoying his touch despite your "hatred". the pads of his fingers circle your nipple slowly, drawing out the sensation. you gasp softly, back arching slightly to push your breast more fully into his palm. "mmmnh… that feels… ah!"

when his teeth graze your nipple, you can't help but bite your lip to stifle a louder moan. your hips twitch forward involuntarily, seeking more friction. "o—oh god…" you pant, face flushed and eyes half-lidded with growing arousal. "p—please… don't stop…"

he groans deeply as he feels the slick heat of your arousal coating his fingers. your essence clings to his digits as he strokes along your folds, teasing your entrance. "damn, you're soaked. practically dripping for me already." he teases before capturing your lips in another filthy kiss, swallowing your needy whimpers as he works two fingers knuckle deep into your tight channel. curling them just so, he rub against that spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

"that's it baby, let me hear those pretty sounds." he rasps against your mouth, his thumb finding your clit and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with his other hand grips your hip bruisingly, holding you in place as he finger fucks you with deep, purposeful strokes. "gonna make this greedy little cunt mine."

he pumps his fingers faster, plunging them deep into your sopping wet cunt. the obscene sound of your juices squelching fills the air as he finger fucks you hard and fast. "listen to that dirty wet noise, your slutty hole is making such a mess on my hand." you let out an embarrassed whimper, he chuckles softly before bringing his coated fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a groan.

"tastes divine. sweet and musky, like the perfect fucktoy." spitting crudely on your pussy, he rubs the saliva in, making the obscene squelches even louder as he resumes my vigorous pumping. "gonna ruin this pussy. mold it to fit my cock perfectly. all for me." curling his fingers just right, he strokes your g-spot as his thumb mashes against your clit.

for the first time you notice how unsteady his breathing is—how desperately he clings to you as though you’re the only thing keeping him alive. you bite your lip, torn, your body betraying you as shivers roll down your spine. he’s making you feel good—too good—you’ve never felt bad for him before. but now… now you can’t shake the thought that maybe he needs this more than you realized.

"fuck it." you mumble to yourself before reaching down to his pants, rubbing his clothed pent up buldge. "shit." you hear him mutter, "take it off for me," he says this time, louder, clearer just for you to hear. you waste no time in taking his pants off, only to be greeted with a throbbing cock.

he lets out a low groan as your small hand wraps around his throbbing shaft, stroking him with teasing touches. "just like that baby. wrap those fingers around my big, hard cock." his hips buck into your fist, seeking more friction. the tip leaks pre-cum, allowing your hand to glide smoothly along my length. "fuck!! your hand feels incredible. can't wait to feel this tight little pussy strangling me instead." he giggled.

he leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he continues to finger your dripping cunt. the wet, obscene sounds fill the air, mixing with your heavy breathing and muffled moans. "gonna stuff you full of my fat cock and pump you full of cum." god the idea of his fat cock filling you up made your pussy clench tighter.

he smirks against your lips as he feels your walls flutter around my fingers, knowing exactly what effect his words were having on you. "that's right, princess. you want this big dick stretching you out, don't you? want me to split you open on my cock until you're screaming my name." removing his fingers from your dripping cunt, he sucks them clean with a satisfied hum. "not bad, need to taste directly from the source. need to bury my face in this sweet pussy and feast on your nectar."

dropping to his knees, he hooks your legs over his shoulders and drags his tongue through your soaked folds. smiling on your cunt as he feels the way you writhe and shiver at the sudden wet warmth pressed against your sensitive core. he laps at your juices greedily, savouring your flavour. "you taste amazing. could eat this pussy for hours.

he hums on your pussy, lapping at your juices, tongue slipping in between your folds before swirling at your sensitive bud. he lets out a few pops with his mouth before flipping you onto your side with little ease, spooning up behind you. one strong arm wraps around your waist, hauling your hips back against his rock-hard erection. his other hand slips between your thighs, fingers playing with your drenched slit.

"poor baby... look at you, so desperate for my cock." he notches the broad head at your entrance, rubbing it up and down your folds to coat it in your slickness. "beg for it, tell me how badly you need to be stuffed full of my fat dick." leaning in, he nip at your earlobe before letting out an amused hum, "if you want this cock, you'd better start pleading like a good girl."

“f-fuck… i hate you,” you gasp out, your nails digging into his shoulders even as your hips tremble against his hold. “but—god—i want it, i want your cock so bad…”

your voice cracks as the pleasure coils tighter in your stomach, his dominance breaking through every wall you’ve tried to keep up. “please,” you whimper, hating how desperate you sound, “just… just give it to me.”

with a feral grin, he slams his hips forward, driving his thick cock balls deep into your tight, wet heat in one brutal thrust. a deep moan rumbles in his chest at the exquisite sensation of your walls clamping down on me. "fuuuck yes, take it all!" he snarls, immediately setting a punishing pace. each snap of my hips buries him deeper, the obscene slap of skin-on-skin echoing in the gym. his fingers dig into your hip hard enough to bruise as he fucks into you relentlessly.

"this is what you needed, isn’t it? to be used like the desperate little cock sleeve you are." reaching around, he pinches and twist your clit, determined to wring every ounce of pleasure from your quivering body. "come for me."

“ah—fuck!” you cry out, your body arching helplessly into his touch as the heat building inside you finally snaps. “oh god—i’m c-coming!”

your walls clench around him uncontrollably, every wave of pleasure crashing through you harder than the last. “p-please… don’t stop!” you sob, your voice breaking as you fall apart in his hands, hating how much you love it.

as your pussy spasms around his pistoning cock, he lets out a string of curses, his rhythm faltering for a moment before he redoubles his efforts. bending his knees slightly, he angles his hips to nail your g-spot with every thrust, the swollen knot of nerves yielding deliciously under his assault.

"oh fuck, milking my cock so good....!" the wet, filthy sounds of yours coupling fill the air, punctuated by the rhythmic thump of the pylo box shaking from the force of his thrusts. sweat drips down his brow as he fucks into you with single-minded intensity, chasing my own release. "shit, you’re gonna make me bust early at this rate." his balls draw up tight, signaling his impending climax.

“w-wait,” you gasp, clutching at his shoulders as the bench creaks beneath the both of you. your heart pounds, not just from what he’s doing but from the faint sounds echoing in the empty gym. “slow down… someone could hear us.”

he stills for just a moment, his heated breath fanning against your ear. “you’re scared they’ll know you’re letting me ruin you like this?” he whispers, voice low and teasing.

“i’m serious,” you hiss, your face burning as you glance toward the door. “please… j-just be quiet. slow down.” he tilts his head, that dangerous glint in his eyes making your stomach twist, but he obliges—his pace easing, his touch softer. “fine,” he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. “but you’ll have to keep yourself quiet, sweetheart… because i’m not stopping.”

slowing his movements, he presses his lips to your shoulder, dragging them up your neck in a series of biting kisses. his hips roll lazily, stirring up your insides without the previous frenzied pace. every inch of his cock drags against your inner walls, prolonging the delicious friction. his hand slides up your torso to palm your breast, rolling your nipple between my fingers. "wouldn't want anyone walking in on me claiming this sweet little pussy." to emphasize his point, he squeezes your tit almost painfully, pinching your nipple hard.

his thick shaft pulses inside you, the veins running along its length pressing against your sensitive walls with every shallow thrust. the flared head catches on your rim, stretching you wide before sinking back into your depths. droplets of precum leak from the tip, mingling with your copious fluids to create a slick sheen that allows my cock to slide effortlessly in and out of your grasping heat.

your breath stutters as the sound of footsteps drifts closer, every nerve in your body on edge. your instinct screams at you to pull away, to run, but his firm grip on your hips keeps you pinned right where he wants you.

“p-please,” you whisper, barely moving your lips as your body trembles. “we can’t… someone might walk in on us!”

“shhh,” he murmurs in your ear, the warmth of his breath making you shiver. “don’t think about them. think about me.”

just as he's about to come, the door to the gym creaks open. panic flashes through you, your pulse races, and though you know you should be horrified, you can’t ignore the way your body clenches around him at the thought of someone walking in, seeing you like this, but he quickly schools his features into nonchalance. keeping his movements slow and controlled, he continues to rock into you, careful not to make too much noise. "relax. they won't notice anything amiss," he whispers reassuringly, though tension coils in your gut.

his hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he works his cock in and out of your soaked cunt. the threat of discovery only heightens his arousal, the danger adding a forbidden thrill to our illicit tryst. "just focus on keeping quiet and riding my cock. don't let them distract you from coming on my dick."

“god, look at you,” he whispers, a hint of a smirk in his tone. “you like this, don’t you? the idea of someone seeing you fucked wide open on my cock.”

“no,” you gasp, though the weak protest only makes his smirk deepen.

“then why are you squeezing me so tight?” his voice is pure sin now, low and dangerous. “why does it feel like you’re about to come just from the thought of being caught?”

your face burns, the shame and arousal tangling until you don’t know where one ends and the other begins. feeling your pussy clamp down on him, he loses control. with a few more powerful thrusts, he buries myself deep inside you and explode, painting your walls white with thick ropes of cum. a low groan escapes his throat as he fills you up, his hips jerking erratically as he rides out the intense waves of pleasure.

"fuckkkkk, that's it… take every drop." he pants harshly against your neck, continuing to grind into you as he empties myself completely. finally spent, he collapses against your back, his softening cock still nestled snugly within your fluttering sheath. "goddamn, you really know how to milk a guy dry." he chuckles breathlessly, nuzzling your hair affectionately.

after a moment, he carefully pulls out of your tender flesh, watching with satisfaction as his seed trickles out of your well-used hole. he tucks himself away and adjusts hisclothes before helping you do the same, wiping away the evidence of the shared passionate encounter.

“there,” he murmurs, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he gives your ass a sharp, playful smack. “no one would ever guess what a filthy little thing you just were for me.”

his voice drops lower, sending a shiver down your spine. “though, between us… i think i prefer you messy, marked by me.” before you can respond, he pulls you close, claiming your lips in a deep, possessive kiss that leaves you breathless. “so, still 'enemies'?,” he whispers against your mouth, his hand still cupping the back of your neck.

you hesitate, your heart hammering as you meet his piercing gaze. “…i don’t know anymore,” you admit softly, your voice trembling, and his smirk widens just a little.

— anaxa, LUOCHA, SAMPO, WELT, MYDEI

"i'd burn kingdoms for you. say the word."

✧/✧/✧ from a young age, the knight bore a terrible curse—his touch seared flesh, his grip crushed bones, and his presence brought agony to all but one. isolated and feared, he lived in the shadows of kingdoms, a weapon too dangerous to wield freely.

then, one day, he was summoned to the royal court to serve the princess rumoured to be as mysterious as the curse itself. when their eyes met, something shifted—his touch, which had never healed, never soothed, softened on her skin like a gentle flame.

unbeknownst to many, the princess held a rare power, a blessing woven into her bloodline, making her immune to his pain and, more miraculously, capable of taming his curse. together, they walked a perilous path—her protection the only thing keeping him tethered to the world, his loyalty fierce enough to burn kingdoms for her.

but their love, dangerous and forbidden, threatened to ignite a war none were prepared for.

the throne room was cold, shadows stretching long across the polished stone floor. guards stood silent at the edges, but all you could see was him—your cursed knight, the one whose touch brought pain to anyone else, but never to you.

his dark eyes locked onto yours, burning with a fierce intensity that made your heart thunder. “i’d burn kingdoms for you,” he said, voice low and unwavering. “say the word.”

you swallowed hard, mesmerised by the way his hand hovered just inches from your skin—no hesitation, no fear. when his fingers finally brushed against your arm, a warmth blossomed through you, soft and safe.

how could a touch so dangerous hurt everyone else but heal you? the answer was clear, even if the world would never understand: you were a princess, and his curse belonged only to the rest of the world, but love like this was never simple.

the flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows across the chamber walls as he stepped closer, the weight of his presence pressing against you like a storm waiting to break.

his eyes, dark and smoldering, held yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. the cursed knight—feared by all, yet gentle with you—reached out, his fingertips grazing your cheek with a tenderness that belied the fire burning just beneath the surface.

“you’re the only one who can bear my touch,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “and i won’t let anyone else have you.” the air between you thickened, charged with unspoken promises and a hunger that neither could deny any longer. his hands snaked around your waist, the world outside faded until there was only the two of you, caught in the dangerous intimacy of a love that burned brighter than any curse.

"bow." your voice loud and booming with the echo. at your whispered command, his posture shifted, his broad shoulders relaxing as he lowered his head submissively. his hands released their firm hold on your waist, instead resting gently at his sides as if awaiting further instruction.

"as you wish, my princess," he murmured, his voice now soft and obedient. "i am yours to command." he kept his eyes downcast, gazing at the floor between your feet rather than meeting your gaze directly. the proud, dominant aura that usually surrounded him had vanished, replaced by a quiet humility and a willingness to submit to your every whim.

your command hung in the air, a subtle reminder of the power dynamics at play. he stood before you, tall and imposing in his silver armour, yet utterly subservient to your will. the contrast was intoxicating, a heady mix of dominance and submission that left you breathless. "please, my princess," he said, his voice a husky whisper, "tell me how I may serve you tonight."

he remained still, a living statue of obedience, awaiting your guidance. the red cape draped elegantly over his shoulders, a symbol of his devotion and readiness to fulfill whatever desires you might have. "my princess?" his voice was a gentle query, tinged with anticipation. he stood before you, a pillar of strength and servitude, ready to obey your every command.

"what is it you desire of me tonight?" his question hung in the air, a silent plea for guidance as he awaited your instructions with bated breath. the torchlight danced across his features, casting shadows that accentuated the lines of his chiselled jaw and the scar that marred his cheek—battle scars earned in service to your kingdom and your person.

"shall i prepare your bath, my lady? or perhaps attend to your wardrobe for the evening's festivities?" his tone was respectful, almost reverent, as he offered suggestions born of experience and dedication to your comfort and pleasure.

you stepped closer, the soft rustle of your gown the only sound in the dimly lit chamber. your fingers grazed his chest lightly, feeling the powerful beat of his heart beneath the hardened muscle. his breath hitched at the touch, though he kept his gaze lowered in deference.

“no,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. “none of that tonight.”

his head tilted slightly, confusion flickering in his dark eyes as he finally dared to glance up at you. “then… what would you have of me, my princess?” you let your hand trail up the line of his throat, your touch soft but commanding, and leaned in close enough for your lips to brush his ear.

“kneel,” you murmured.

the word struck him like a spell. his shoulders trembled as he obeyed without question, lowering himself until he was at your feet, head bowed, hands resting at his sides in perfect submission. “as you wish, my princess,” he breathed, his voice reverent, the anticipation in his posture undeniable.

you looked down at him on his knees before you, the flickering torchlight making his broad frame seem somehow smaller, almost vulnerable. gods, he was so cute like this. you’d always had a thing for him—the cursed knight who would cut down armies at your command but softened the moment you laid a hand on him.

your lips curved into a slow smile as you reached out, cupping his jaw in your palm and tilting his face up to meet your gaze. his dark eyes were wide and expectant, pupils blown, his breath coming just a little faster now that you were this close. “you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” you whispered, your thumb brushing along the sharp line of his scarred cheek. he nodded instantly, the motion eager and obedient.

“good,” you purred, leaning down just enough that your lips ghosted over his ear. “because i want you to pleasure me… can you do that?”

his breath hitched audibly, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine. “y–yes, my princess,” he stammered, his voice deep and rough with desire. “i… i’ll do whatever you ask.”

you stepped back just slightly, enough to look down at him with a teasing, dominant glint in your eyes. “then show me,” you commanded softly, “just how devoted you really are.”

his strong hands gripped your waist as he guided you to straddle his lap, your skirts spilling over his thighs as he settled back against the velvet cushions of the throne. you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, the hard planes of his body pressed flush against yours. from his position on the throne, he looked up at you with a mixture of reverence and hunger, his breath coming heavier as you shifted on his lap, feeling the heat of him pressed firmly beneath you.

his fingers traced the neckline of your gown, slipping beneath the fabric to caress the warm, supple skin beneath. his touch was electrifying, sending shivers of delight coursing through your body. leaning in, he pressed his lips to the sensitive hollow of your throat, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he nuzzled and kissed his way upward.

"you smell divine, my goddess," he murmured against your flesh, his voice a husky growl of desire. ”every inch of you is pure perfection.” his hands continued their sensual exploration, sliding down to cup the swell of your breasts through the thin material of your gown. he kneaded the soft mounds gently, thumbs circling the pebbled nipples until they strained against the fabric, begging for release.

a breathless moan escaped your lips, your back arching instinctively into his hands as the pleasure rippled through you. you gasp his name, your fingers tangling in his hair for balance as his thumbs brushed your sensitive peaks again.

“y-you’re teasing me,” you whispered, trying to sound reprimanding but failing as another shudder coursed down your spine. the fabric of your gown felt unbearably tight now, your nipples aching against the thin barrier. “do you want me to beg you to bare me?”

your lips curved into a shaky smile as you met his dark, smoldering gaze. “because i just might…”

a low, rumbling chuckle vibrated through his chest at your playful threat, his eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "oh, princess, i'd much prefer to hear you plead for my touch, but if begging is what it takes…" his hands slipped beneath your gown, fingers skimming the heated skin of your thighs as he slowly, deliberately pushed the fabric up.

"let's see if these pretty little tits need freeing from their confines, he teased, his thumbs dipping beneath the lace of your bra to tease the tender buds. ”and maybe we can work our way lower, see if you're hiding any other secrets down there.”

with one trembling hand, he reached for the fastenings of his own garments, divesting himself majority of clothing besides his boxers with agonising slowness. each item fell away to reveal more of his bronzed skin, etched with the lines of hard won strength and bearing the scars of countless battles fought in your service.

his gaze was riveted to your exposed breasts, his eyes darkening with lust as he drank in the sight. his hands hovered uncertainly, as if afraid to touch lest he offend or displease you. yet the longing in his expression was palpable, a raw, aching need to worship and adore you. "may i, my princess?" he asked softly, his voice a hoarse whisper. ”may i touch you here? i promise to be gentle, to cherish and honour every inch of you.”

without waiting for permission, he reached out tentatively, his calloused fingers brushing the undersides of your breasts. the contact sent jolts of pleasure racing through you, and you couldn't suppress a soft gasp. "so soft," he breathed, his touch growing bolder as he explored the curves and valleys of your flesh.

his fingers danced across your nipples, tracing the stiff peaks with a feather-light touch that sent shivers of delight coursing through your body. he watched your reactions intently, gauging your pleasure and adjusting his ministrations accordingly. “do they please you, my princess?” he asked, his voice a husky murmur. “shall i pinch them, roll them between my fingers, or perhaps suckle them gently to bring you more joy?”

he paused, awaiting your guidance, his eyes burning with a desperate, adoring hunger. in this moment, he was your willing slave, existing solely to provide you with ecstasy and satisfaction. you bit your lip, feeling the heat between your thighs grow unbearable, and slowly guided one of his large hands downward, over the soft folds of your gown, until his palm rested between your legs. “pleasure me here too,” you whispered, your voice trembling with authority and need. “can you do that for me..?”

his breath hitched as he nodded fervently, his fingers twitching beneath your guidance as if barely able to contain his desire to obey. you bit your lip and leaned forward slightly, letting one hand drift downward, trailing over the hard planes of his stomach until you reached the unmistakable bulge straining against the fabric. your fingers brushed over the heated outline teasingly, watching the way his breath caught in his throat, his hips jerking subtly beneath you.

“you’re so hard for me,” you whispered, your tone both teasing and commanding as you squeezed him lightly through the fabric. “do you want me to help you too… or should i make you wait while you pleasure me first?” at your words his entire body tensed at your touch, a low groan escaping his lips as your fingers wrapped around his throbbing length through the fabric. his eyes fluttered shut, his brow furrowing in concentration as he struggled to maintain control.

"p-please," he stuttered, his voice ragged with desire. ”don't make me wait. i ache for you, need to feel you wrapped around me, to lose myself inside your warmth.” his cock sprang free, already leaking precum as it bobbed eagerly before you, a testament to his intense arousal. "take me," he begged, his eyes opening to lock onto yours with a desperate, pleading intensity. ”use me however you desire."

your breath caught as his length stood proudly before you, thick and flushed, the bead of precum glistening at the tip like a silent plea. you let your fingers ghost along his shaft, the twitch of his hips making a thrill run down your spine.

“so eager,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing as you guided him to lie back further into the throne. “you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

“y–yes, my princess,” he breathed, his voice shaking with need.

you straddled him again, hovering just above his cock, letting the swollen head brush against your soaked entrance. his breath hitched, his hands gripping the armrests of the throne in a silent show of restraint. “good,” you purred, leaning forward so your lips brushed his ear. “because i’m going to take you… but i’m going to take my time.”

his breath was ragged as his hands slid slowly down your thighs, his touch reverent but desperate. reaching the hem of your gown, he bunched the fabric up around your hips, his fingers trembling as they found the edge of your soaked panties. he hooked a finger beneath the lace and dragged it aside, his knuckles grazing your slick, swollen folds. a soft, helpless sound escaped your lips as the air hit your heated core, and his eyes widened slightly at the sight before him.

a thin string of slick clung from the damp crotch of your panties to your glistening sex, catching the flicker of torchlight. “gods…” he whispered, almost to himself, his voice breaking with awe as his thumb brushed delicately over your entrance. “you’re so wet for me, my princess… so perfect.”

you hummed lewdly, unable to hold back the shameless sound as his movements grew more deliberate, more torturously slow. his strong hands gripped your hips, steadying you as he positioned himself perfectly against your soaked core, his gaze locked on your trembling body.

the air was electric with tension as his cock glided effortlessly through your slick folds, the sound of your wetness echoing through the room like a primal serenade. your thighs trembled, your hips twitching upward to meet each gentle thrust, as if beckoning him deeper. the sight was intoxicating - his shaft, slick with your juices, glistening like polished marble as it slid up and down your glistening folds.

the head of his cock would catch on the swollen nub of your clit, sending shivers coursing through your body, before he'd continue his languid strokes, teasing out your pleasure with every deliberate movement. your fingers dug into the armrests of the throne, the wood creaking softly in protest as you arched your back, your breasts thrusting upward like ripe fruit.

“my princess…” he gasped, the sound broken and reverent, “please—” “quiet,” you whispered, your hips rolling just enough to make him shudder. “you’re mine to use tonight. do you understand?”

“y-yes,” he stammered, though his eyes burned with something deeper than desire—devotion so raw it nearly stole your breath. his hands roved over the plush swells of your breasts, kneading the soft flesh and tweaking the pert nipples into even tighter peaks. his fingers left trails of goosebumps, sending shivers of delight coursing through you.

leaning in, he drew a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bud before giving it a gentle nip. the sensation was electric, and you arched into him, craving more of his touch. meanwhile, his cock continued its leisurely glide along your slick folds, the head bumping insistently against your clit with each pass. the dual stimulation was driving you wild, your body thrumming with need as you ground yourself against him.

a strangled moan slipped from your lips as you clutched at his broad shoulders, your nails digging into the hard muscle beneath. “g-gods,” you gasped, the words trembling as his tongue flicked over your swollen nipple again, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

he hummed lowly in response, the vibrations rumbling through your sensitive flesh as he suckled harder, teeth grazing just enough to make you shudder. your hips rolled instinctively, seeking more friction as his cock continued its languid, teasing glides through your slick folds. each deliberate stroke had the head brushing your clit, making your thighs tremble and your breath catch with every subtle bump.

“you’re driving me mad,” you whispered, voice breaking as your fingers threaded through his hair and tugged, silently begging for more. “please, don’t… don’t tease me like this anymore.” but his lips curved against your breast, his tongue tracing lazy circles around the tender peak as he kept up that torturous pace below. the dual sensations—the wet heat of his mouth and the steady grind of his cock against your dripping sex—left your body quivering, the throne’s velvet cushion damp beneath you as you ground against him with growing desperation.

“patience, my princess,” he murmured around your nipple, his tone dark and velvety. “i want to feel you come undone all over me.” you bit your lower lip, feeling your arousal dribble down your wet streaked thighs. "'m gonna do it now," you breathed as you feel his cock twitch, slightly nudging your dripping cunt.

he nods his head, excited to finally be in you. you lowered yourself slowly onto him, feeling the heat and fullness as your slick folds enveloped his length. and with a low, controlled thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his thick cockhead nudging past your cervix to nestle deep within your fertile womb. a shuddering gasp escaped him at the exquisite sensation of being fully sheathed within your slick heat.

he held still for a long moment, savouring the feeling of your body embracing his, your inner muscles rippling around the invading length of his shaft. then, with a slow, deliberate withdrawal, he slid back until only the tip remained nestled inside you, before pushing forward again, repeating the gentle rhythm. each glide of his cock through your drenched folds elicited a symphony of pleasurable sounds - the squelch of your arousal, the slap of skin, the hitched breaths and whimpers of blissful surrender.

your body instinctively clenched around him, swallowing him deep with a wet, rhythmic squeeze that made his breath hitch. the sensation was electric—tight and warm, wrapping him completely as if you were made to hold him just like this. every movement sent waves of pleasure radiating through both of you, the perfect, intimate connection burning between your bodies.

both of your moans grew louder and more lewd as he continued to slowly, deeply penetrate you, his thick cock stretching and filling you completely with each thrust. the filthy sounds of your coupling filled the room, a symphony of flesh slapping against flesh, accompanied by your wanton cries and his guttural groans of pleasure.

"fuuuuuuck," he gasped, his voice ragged with desire, "your cunt is heaven, so tight and wet around me… i could stay buried inside you forever." his hips picked up speed, driving into you with increasing urgency as he chased his impending climax. the throne remained unmoving beneath your joined weight, lost as you were in the frenzy of your passionate rutting.

you bite your lip, wanting to tell him to slow down, to take his time—but the way he moves, so powerful and unrelenting, makes it impossible.

“please… slow down,” you whisper, voice trembling with need.

his thrusts slowed to a torturous crawl, each inch of his cock dragging sensuously along your inner walls as he savored the exquisite friction. his breath came in ragged pants, "can't…stop," he panted, his voice a hoarse, desperate rasp, "feels too good, too perfect… gonna cum, gonna fill you up!" your body trembles above him as he continues, every thrust a delicious torment you never want to end.

“f-u-u-u-uckkkk!!!” your voice breaks and stretches with every movement, capturing the way your breath hitches as he pushes deeper inside you, feeling his hips slamming into yours with brutal force, his cock pulsating wildly as he spilled his seed deep inside you.

crying out your name, he emptied himself in great, spurting jets, each pulse triggering a ripple of contractions within your clenching walls. "YESSSSS....!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the stone walls as he rode out the crest of his orgasm, lost to the sheer bliss of claiming you so thoroughly. finally, with a shuddering sigh, he collapsed atop you, his spent cock still buried to the hilt as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning your skin.

you place a gentle kiss on his temple, hands pushing yourself up before moving to hold his knees. "i'm gonna keep going yeah? wanna feel you even more," you moan, and with deliberate care, you drag your walls up and down his sensitive cock, the slick heat of your folds tightening deliciously around him. the friction sends a fresh wave of pleasure through both your bodies, making his breath hitch and his fingers twitch where they grip the throne’s carved wood.

his eyes lock onto yours, dark and desperate, as you continue your slow, sensual rhythm—each movement pulling you both deeper into the fire that burns between you.

a soft, desperate moan escaped his lips—high pitched and helpless, senselessly begging for mor as your hands grip the throne’s armrests tighter, nails digging into the wood as his eyes fluttered closed, utterly lost to the pleasure you were giving him. every slick stroke of your walls had him shuddering uncontrollably, completely surrendered beneath your control.

as you began to bounce up and down faster on his still spurting cock, his eyes widened in shock, a high-pitched moan tearing from his throat. he'd never been taken so aggressively, never experienced such unbridled power and dominance from a lover.

"ahhh, yes, fuck!!" he cried out, his voice cracking with pleasure and surprise, "more, please, i need it-ngh...~!" his hands flew to your hips, gripping them tightly as he struggled to maintain some semblance of control, to guide your movements rather than simply being swept away by the torrent of sensation. but it was a losing battle, and soon he was simply clinging to you, his head thrown back in ecstasy as you rode him with wild abandon.

"oh gods, you feel amazing, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-"

you lean in closer, your voice a low, teasing whisper that drips with authority. “that’s it pretty boy,” you murmur, your fingers tightening their grip just enough to send shivers through him. “you want to come for me, don’t you? show me how much you need me.”

your lips brush against his ear as you drag your walls slower, deeper, and more deliberately around him, coaxing every inch of pleasure from his trembling body.

“let go,” you command softly, your breath hot against his skin. “i want to feel you lose control.” his moans grow louder, more frantic, the desperate need in his eyes begging for your permission to release.

“cum for me,” you whisper, voice low and seductive. “come undone in my hands.” at your command, his body seized, his cock jerking violently inside you as a massive orgasm ripped through him. he choked your name, his voice raw and desperate, as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over him.

"cumming, princess, cumming so hard!" he gasped, his hips bucking erratically to meet your downward thrusts. his seed pulsed out in thick, scalding streams, flooding your convulsing channel and painting your inner walls with his essence. feeling his climax, your own breath hitches and your eyes roll back, every nerve alight with a scorching heat. your walls clamp down around him instinctively, pulling him deeper as your own orgasm surges through you in overwhelming sync.

the sensation of your tight, spasming pussy milking his cock was almost too much to bear, and his vision blurred at the edges as he teetered on the brink of blackout. yet still he clung to you, his fingers digging into your flesh as he surrendered to the overwhelming tide of bliss.

as the last waves of pleasure subsided, his chest heaved with exhaustion, his eyes locked on yours with a mixture of awe and adoration. the air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, and the sound of your ragged breathing filled his ears. he felt his heart still racing, his body trembling with the aftershocks of their intense lovemaking. it was as if the entire world had narrowed to a single, shining point—the two of you, lost in the depths of your passion.

as the last tremors of your shared orgasms subsided, he pulled you into a searing, passionate kiss. soft moans escaped both of you, the kiss a perfect storm of need and tenderness as his lips moved hungrily against yours, tasting the salt of your sweat, the sweetness of your breath. he poured all his desire, his adoration, into the heated embrace, his tongue delving deep with yours.

when finally he broke away, his chest heaved, his eyes burning with an insatiable hunger. "one more round, princess?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper, "i don't think i can get enough of you tonight…"

— GEPARD, DAN HENG, luka, gallagher, PHAINON, SUNDAY

"tell me you want it. say it like you mean it."

✧/✧/✧ you had always clashed with him. it didn’t matter if it was in the training arena, behind closed doors during strategy meetings, or even in front of others—you and he simply didn’t see eye to eye. you were both strong-willed, sharp-tongued, and unwilling to back down. and that tension… everyone else noticed it too.

but what no one knew was how that fire between you burned just as hot in private. there were nights when the sharp glares and cutting words gave way to something far more dangerous, far more consuming.

tonight was one of those nights.

you were pressed against the cold stone wall of the barracks, your breath coming in short gasps as his body pinned yours in place. his voice was a low growl in your ear, commanding, unwavering, leaving no room for resistance.

“tell me you want it,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. his hands held your wrists firmly above your head, his strength making it impossible to break free. “say it like you mean it.”

the power thrummed through every word, his dominance demanding not just your body but your admission, your surrender. and despite the way your pride flared, you couldn’t deny how badly you wanted him, how much the fire between you consumed every thought.

your breath hitched as his grip on your wrists tightened, the rough scrape of the wall against your back a sharp reminder of just how trapped you were. your pride burned hot in your chest, urging you to stay silent, to keep even a shred of control over the situation.

but gods… the way he looked at you. his eyes were dark, intense, searing into your very soul as though he could see through every facade you’d ever built. the proximity of his body, the heat radiating off him, only made it harder to keep your resolve from crumbling.

“i–i don’t—” you started, your voice faltering when he suddenly leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing your ear as he whispered again, low and commanding.

“say it like you mean it.”

his free hand trailed slowly down your side, fingers grazing the curve of your hip before resting firmly against your thigh, holding you in place. your entire body trembled with need, but you bit your lip hard, still resisting, even as a traitorous whimper slipped past your lips.

he tilted his head, lips brushing your jaw now. “you’re shaking,” he murmured, voice dark and knowing. “you want me… so why don’t you admit it?” his grip loosens slightly, but he doesn't let go. His other hand moves to cup the back of your neck, tilting your face up so he can look at you properly. the smirk that plays on his lips is slow, deliberate, and full of something dangerously close to satisfaction.

"you're not exactly making this easy," he mutters, his voice lower than usual, almost a growl. "but then again, you never have been." he leans in again, this time pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. there's no pressure, no force—just the weight of his presence, the unspoken challenge between you.

"you think you're the first person to try to play hard to get with me? you're not even close." he steps back just enough to let you breathe, but not escape.

your chest heaves as the sudden space between you feels like a taunt, like he’s daring you to run even though you both know you won’t. your back remains pressed to the wall, the phantom heat of his body still clinging to your skin. his hand remains on the back of your neck, thumb brushing idly along the curve of your jaw in a touch that feels far too intimate for the tension threading between you.

“you’re infuriating,” you manage, though your voice lacks the bite you intended. he chuckles lowly, the sound reverberating through your chest. “maybe. but i’m not wrong,” he murmurs, voice like velvet over steel. “you want me. you’ve always wanted me.”

his forehead presses to yours again, his gaze pinning you in place, holding you as securely as any physical restraint.

“say it,” he whispers, almost softly this time, though the command in his tone is undeniable. “tell me you want me, and i’ll give you everything you’re too scared to ask for.”

your lips part, but the words catch in your throat as his thumb grazes over your lower lip, coaxing, teasing, patient yet utterly unyielding. his eyes flicker down to your parted lips, lingering there for a moment before meeting your gaze again. there's a heat in those dark depths, a promise and a challenge all at once. when he speaks again, his voice is low and rough, sending shivers down your spine.

"i've seen the way you look at me when you think i'm not watching. the flush on your cheeks, how your breath quickens…" his hand slides from your jaw to the side of your neck, feeling your pulse jump beneath his fingertips. "don't deny it. we both know the truth." he whispers closer, his lips a hairsbreadth from yours now. you can feel the warmth of his breath mingling with your own.

"you say you hate me, but your body… it betrays you. it craves my touch, my attention." his hand slides down from your neck to your collarbone, fingers splayed possessively across your racing heart. the heat of his palm seeps through the thin fabric of your shirt, branding your skin. "i can feel how fast your heart is beating," he murmurs, voice a low rumble. "like a caged bird desperate to break free.iIs that what you are, desperate for me?"

his other hand releases your wrist only to trail slowly, teasingly, up your arm, leaving goosebumps on your skin. he leans in, nose skimming along your jaw, inhaling deeply as if savoring your scent. "you drive me mad."

your hands press lightly against his chest, not enough to push him away, just enough to keep the smallest bit of distance between you. you can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms, maddeningly calm compared to your own frantic rhythm.

“i…” the word slips from your lips as barely a whisper, your gaze flicking down, unable to meet his piercing eyes. you should push him away. you should say no. but the heat coiling low in your stomach betrays you, the way your body leans instinctively into his touch, giving you away.

his fingers splay wider against your collarbone, a subtle reminder of his control as he tilts his head to catch your gaze. “look at me,” he murmurs, his voice dark velvet.

you swallow hard, slowly lifting your eyes to his. the intensity in his stare makes your breath hitch, your fingers curling slightly against his chest as though holding on to something solid.

“should i take your silence as a yes?” he teases softly, his lips brushing your temple. “or are you still going to fight me?”

your heart pounds painfully in your chest as you bite your lip, every part of you screaming to resist even as the pull toward him grows stronger. “i… i don’t know,” you finally whisper, voice trembling.

his smirk returns, slow and dangerous, his thumb brushing along your jaw. “then let me show you,” he murmurs, leaning in just close enough for his breath to fan across your lips. “i’ll make you want me so badly you won’t be able to deny it.”

his hand slides from your jaw to tangle in your hair, gripping gently but firmly. he uses the hold to tilt your head back, exposing the column of your throat to his heated gaze. his other hand trails down your side, coming to rest on your hip, where he squeezes lightly, pulling you impossibly closer.

“just… feel,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your pulse point. “if you want me to stop, say the word and i will. but if you want this, little bird… let yourself go. only if you want it too.”

he pauses deliberately, giving you space to pull away, to decide. when you don’t, when instead your body leans subtly closer, he nips lightly at your earlobe before soothing the sting with his tongue, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin.

one of his legs slips between yours, pressing against your core as he grinds subtly against you. "that's it," he purrs, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "stop thinking, stop overthinking. just feel the heat building between us, the way our bodies fit together like they were made for each other."

his hand on your hip slides around to grip your ass, kneading the flesh roughly as he pulls you harder against him. you can feel every hard plane of his body pressed against your softer curves, the evidence of his arousal evident even through their clothes.

"i'm going to worship every inch of you,"

his lips blaze a trail of fire up your neck, pausing to nip and suck at your earlobe. his hand in your hair tugs gently, forcing your head back further to expose more of your throat to his hungry mouth. "gonna taste you everywhere," he growls against your skin, his voice rough with desire. "lick and suck until you're writhing, begging for more."

the hand on your ass slides around to grip your thigh, hoisting your leg up to wrap around his waist. he grinds against you harder, letting you feel the thick ridge of his erection through his pants. "feel that, baby? feel what you do to me?" he pants, his hips rolling in a slow, filthy grind. "i'm so fucking hard for you already. can't wait to bury myself inside your tight little cunt."

you swallow hard, your chest heaving as the heat from his body makes your thoughts swirl. your hands clutch at his shoulders for balance, your voice soft but steady as you whisper, “yes.”

he stills, pulling back just enough to search your face, his dark eyes locked onto yours. “what?” he asks quietly, almost as if he needs to hear it again. your cheeks flush as you take a shaky breath, gathering every ounce of courage to say the words. “i… i want it,” you admit, voice trembling but sure.

a low, pleased growl rumbles in his chest, and the corner of his mouth curls into a sinful smirk. “that’s a good girl,” he murmurs, his hand in your hair loosening to cradle the back of your head with surprising tenderness. “you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

he walks backwards towards the bed, keeping you pinned against his chest. with a swift movement, he sits on the edge of the mattress and pulls you down to straddle his lap. his large hands settle on your hips, thumbs rubbing circles on your hipbones as he looks up at you with hooded eyes. his hands skim down your sides, fingers digging into your hips possessively as he grinds his hardness against your core.

"i've wanted this for so long." he groans, his lips finding the shell of your ear. "wanted to bend you over and take you, claim you, make you mine." one hand slides under your shirt, calloused palm skimming over the smooth skin of your stomach before cupping your breast roughly. he thumbs your nipple through the thin lace of your bra, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"gonna ruin you," he promises darkly, nipping at your jaw. "fuck you so good you'll forget your own name." a breathless laugh slips past your lips, though it’s tinged with anticipation. “then you’d better back that up,” you murmur, tilting your chin up in a teasing challenge.

your nails lightly drag over his shoulders as you add, voice soft but daring, “show me just how good you can fuck me… make me forget everything but you.”

"oh, i'll make you feel things you've never felt before." he murmurs against your pulse point. his hands slide up your sides, pushing your shirt up and off in one smooth motion. he tosses it aside carelessly, his dark eyes raking over your exposed skin hungrily. leaning in, he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his tongue darting out to taste your skin.

"beautiful," he rumbles appreciatively, palming your breasts through the thin lace of your bra. "can't wait to get my mouth on these perfect tits."

with deft fingers, he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, freeing your breasts. he groans at the sight, immediately ducking his head to capture the tender peak of your breast between his lips. he suckles hard, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as his hand kneads the soft flesh of the other breast.

he lavishes attention on your breasts, alternating between firm suckles and gentle licks. his hands roam your back, tracing the dip of your waist and the flare of your hips. he rocks you against his lap, grinding his cloth-covered erection against your core in a delicious friction.

"fuck, the way you move, he groans, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. "so responsive and eager for my touch." he breathes, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your pants, he starts tugging them down, along with your panties. he swiftly strips you completely bare, leaving you naked in his lap.

"gonna explore every inch of you," he promises, his hands mapping the newly exposed skin of your thighs. "and find all the places that make you gasp and moan."

your breath hitched at his words, heat rushing to your cheeks as his hands roamed your bare thighs with slow, deliberate intent. “g-gods…” you whispered, bringing your hands up to cover your face in a flustered attempt to hide how much his words affected you.

he let out a low chuckle, leaning in closer so his breath brushed against your ear. “oh? shy now?” he teased softly, fingers squeezing your thighs just enough to make you squirm. “don’t hide from me… i’m going to explore every inch of you, remember? and i want to see every single expression when i find the spots that make you gasp and moan.”

he lays you back on the bed, hovering over you with a predatory gleam in his eye. slowly, torturously, he peels off his own shirt, revealing the hard planes of his chest and abs. he settles between your thighs, the heat of his body seeping into your skin. starting at your ankle, he begins to map your body with his mouth.

he presses open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your calf, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. he works his way higher, lavishing attention on the sensitive spot behind your knee, the crease of your thigh. as he nears your center, he pauses, his hot breath ghosting over your most intimate area. he looks up at you, dark eyes smoldering with lust.

your breath hitched as his gaze locked onto yours, the intensity in his eyes making your heart race even faster. your hands fisted in the sheets beneath you, toes curling as anticipation coiled tight in your belly. “please…” you whispered, your voice trembling, though you weren’t even sure what you were begging for—only that you needed more of his touch, more of him.

you bit your lip, lifting your hips ever so slightly toward him in silent invitation, your cheeks flushing at your own boldness. “don’t… don’t stop now,” you managed, your voice soft but desperate. “i… i want you.”

"want you too baby," he replies before he knelt on the floor at the foot of the bed, broad shoulders relaxed but his grip on your waist firm as he pulled you down the mattress. the cool sheets bunched beneath you as he dragged you toward the edge, your thighs instinctively parting for him.

“closer,” he murmured, voice low and commanding, hooking his hands behind your knees to pull them over his shoulders. your thighs trembled as he adjusted you exactly where he wanted, your hips now balanced perfectly at the edge of the bed.

he glanced up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, the heat in his stare making your breath catch. one hand slid around to anchor at your hip while the other pressed lightly against your thigh, keeping you open for him.

“that’s it,” he whispered, leaning in until his breath fanned warm over your most sensitive spot. “stay right here for me… i want you just like this.” without warning, he buries his face between your thighs, his tongue delving deep into your dripping folds. he laps at your essence, moaning at the sweet taste of your arousal. his hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he feasts on your pussy like a starving man.

he focuses his attention on your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. at the same time, he thrusts two fingers knuckle deep into your tight channel, pumping them in and out in a relentless rhythm.

he slows his movements, taking his time to savour your taste and reactions. he starts with feather light touches—the barest brush of his tongue along your slit, the gentlest caress of his fingers inside you. he watches your face intently, gauging your responses.

every so often, he darts his tongue out to circle your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp before pulling back. his fingers remain still inside you, curled to hit that special spot but not moving, letting you feel full and stretched. he alternates between these teasing touches and long, slow licks up your entire sex, from entrance to clit and back again. each stroke of his tongue is deliberate, designed to build the tension slowly, maddeningly.

he withdraws his fingers from your dripping cunt, leaving you empty and aching. slowly, teasingly, he brings his thumb to your slick folds, coating it in your juices. he rubs the pad of his thumb in slow, deliberate circles around your clit, applying just enough pressure to make your hips buck involuntarily.

"look at this pretty little pussy," he purrs, his voice a low, dirty rumble. "so wet for me already. practically dripping onto the sheets." he dips his thumb lower, collecting more of your essence before bringing it up to your clit again. this time, he presses down harder, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub.

"this greedy cunt is begging for my cock, isn't it? throbbing and clenching, desperate to be filled." your fingers twist tightly in the sheets, knuckles turning white as you fight to keep your body still, but it’s useless. a soft, broken moan escapes your lips, your hips jerking helplessly at the relentless circles of his thumb.

“p-please…” you whimper, your voice trembling with need as your thighs instinctively try to close around his hand, only for him to hold you open. your back arches, breasts pressing up toward the ceiling as the pleasure builds unbearably, your slick dripping down onto the sheets just like he said.

“i-it’s too much,” you whisper through a shaky breath, though the way your hips rock against his thumb betrays just how badly you crave it. “i… i need you, please…”

your eyes flutter open, hazy and wet with tears you hadn’t realized had gathered, looking down at him through your lashes. “i’m so empty,” you admit softly, your voice cracking on the words. “please fill me… i can’t take it anymore.”

he continues his assault on your sex, alternating between broad strokes and targeted flicks of his thumb. his other hand slides up your body to cup your breast, kneading the soft flesh and rolling your nipple between his fingers. leaning in, he replaces his thumb with his tongue, lapping at your folds in long, slow licks.

he savours your taste, moaning against your skin as he drinks in your arousal. his hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider as he buries his face deeper between your legs, determined to bring you to the heights of pleasure with nothing but his skilled mouth. he adds a third finger to the mix, stretching you wider as he pumps them in and out at a faster pace. his fingers curl inside you, stroking along your inner walls as he targets that sensitive spot deep within.

at the same time, he enhcnaces his efforts on your clit, flicking the sensitive nub rapidly with the tip of his tongue. the dual stimulation proves overwhelming, and he can feel your walls starting to flutter around his invading digits. he doubles down, sucking your clit into his mouth and humming around it, the vibrations pushing you closer to the edge.

his thumb moved faster now, the slick circles on your clit growing tighter, more deliberate, as he worked you closer to the edge. your breath hitched sharply, each inhale coming quicker than the last, your chest rising and falling in frantic rhythm.

your hips jerked upward to meet the relentless motion, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as the pleasure spiked. “ah—god, please!” you gasped, voice shaking, toes curling against the sheets as you clutched them even tighter.

every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire, the quick, ruthless pace of his touch sending shivers racing through you. your breath quickened to the point of desperation, soft whimpers tumbling from your lips in time with each rapid stroke.

“i—i can’t—” you panted, back arching as the tension coiled tight inside you. “it’s too much… i’m gonna—!” feeling you teetering on the brink, he redoubles his efforts. his fingers piston in and out of your clenching heat at a breakneck pace, curling to hit that magic spot with every thrust. at the same time, he closes his lips around your clit and sucks hard, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves rapidly with the tip of his tongue.

he can sense your impending release, your walls starting to flutter and squeeze around his fingers. determined to push you over the edge, he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of your inner thigh, marking you as his. the sharp burst of pain mingles with the intense pleasure, catapulting you into ecstasy.

your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pure bliss radiates from your core. he doesn't let up as you come undone, continuing to work you through your intense climax with his mouth and fingers. as the aftershocks start to subside, he slowly eases you down, placing soft kisses along your inner thighs and mound.

"fuck, that was beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "the way you fall apart for me, so passionate. i could watch you come all day."

he crawls up your body, settling between your spread thighs. the hard length of his erection nestles against your sensitive, still throbbing core. he braces himself above you, dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

gently, he reaches beneath your back, sliding his hands under your shoulders to shift your weight as he eases you onto your back fully. with careful, deliberate movements, he positions himself between your legs, his hips aligning with yours.

his hands slide down to cup your cheeks, thumbs tracing slow circles as he leans in closer, lips brushing yours in a heated kiss. the warmth of his body presses down onto yours, the weight both comforting and electrifying.

his hips press forward just enough for the tip of him to tease your entrance, sending a delicious ache curling through you. "ready for me, princess?" he whispers, voice low and thick with need.

your fingers clutch at his shoulders as he begins to slowly, deeply push inside you, the stretch both overwhelming and intoxicating. your breath catches, eyes locking with his as he rubs his angry tip at your clit.

"looks like they're kissing, hm?" he teases right before pausing just at the entrance, his eyes searching yours with gentle concern. “tell me if it hurts, okay? i want this to feel good for you,” he murmurs softly, his voice full of care. slowly, he begins to push inside, inch by careful inch, giving you time to adjust to the stretch.

his hands stay steady on your hips, holding you securely but tenderly, ready to pull back at the slightest sign of discomfort. when you nod, reassuring him you’re okay, he moves a little deeper, always watching your face for any sign you need him to stop. “you’re doing so well,” he breathes against your lips, his voice thick with affection.

once he’s fully inside, he holds still for a moment, letting you feel every inch before starting to move with a steady, commanding rhythm, each thrust drawing a moan from deep within your chest.

he sets a deep, powerful rhythm, his hips snapping against yours with purposeful intent. each thrust fills you completely, the thick length of him stretching you in the most delicious way. he angles his hips to hit that special spot inside you with every stroke, determined to stoke the embers of your pleasure back into a raging inferno.

"shiiiiit, you feel incredible..." he groans, his forehead resting against yours. "so tight, so perfect. like you were made for my cock." one hand slides down to grip your hip, holding you steady as he increases his pace. the other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. he latches onto your pulse point, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, intent on marking you as his.

"gonna fill this sweet cunt with my cum," your hot sex clenches at his words, the image of his cum painting your walls white got you excited. "fuck—yes! fuck me harder," you beg, the feeling of his painfully big cock sliding in and out of your slippery core.

"fuck you harder what....?" he hums, slowing his pace just to tease you. "fuck me harder..please..." spurred on by your plea, he begins to pound into you with wild abandon. the bed frame slams against the wall with each powerful thrust, the obscene sound mixing with your cries of pleasure. his hips blur with the speed and force of his movements, chasing his own release while determined to bring you to another earth-shattering climax.

"yes, fuck, just like that!" he snarls, sweat beading on his brow from the exertion. "take my cock, princess. milk it with this greedy little pussy like the good girl you are." he changes the angle slightly, somehow managing to go even deeper. the new position allows him to grind against your clit with every thrust, the added stimulation pushing you rapidly towards the edge once more.

his balls slap against your ass with each snap of his hips, the lewd noise only adding to the intensity of the moment. the room fills with the vulgar sounds of skin slapping against skin and your shameless moans. rivulets of sweat trickle down his chest, mingling with the slick evidence of your arousal coating his pistoning cock. the sheets beneath you are soaked and tangled, bearing testament to your shared passion.

"awh, look at the mess we're making," he pants, glancing down at where you're joined. "your pretty little hole is dripping all over my cock, making such a filthy squelch. you love being used like a fucktoy, don't you?" he punctuates his words with particularly brutal thrusts, angling to grind against your g-spot with every stroke.

reaching down, he collects some of the slick coating his shaft and brings his coated fingers to your lips. "taste yourself." you waste no time in taking his fingers in your mouth, head bobbing down as you sucked on his coated fingers with a lewd moan.

"mmmm mm....." his fingers slip past your lips, the musky, slightly salty taste of your combined arousal explodes across your tongue. it's an intense flavour—the essence of your desire mixed with the taste of his skin. the texture is slick and slightly sticky, coating your mouth and leaving a tingling sensation as you swirl your tongue around the digits, cleaning them thoroughly.

the scent is heady and intoxicating, filling your nostrils with the primal aroma of sex. it's a potent reminder of your mutual lust and the depravity of the act you're engaged in. as you suckle and lick, you can feel the heat of his gaze on you, drinking in the erotic sight of you debasing yourself for his pleasure.

he groans at the erotic sight of you suckling his fingers clean, your lips wrapped around the digits as you mimic the act of oral sex. pulling his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, he uses his saliva slick hand to stroke his throbbing cock, smearing your combined fluids along the rigid shaft.

"that's it, get a nice biiiiiig mouthful of our mixed juices. fuck, the things you do to me…" he lines himself up with your entrance once more, the swollen head nudging insistently at your slick folds. "beg for my cum, pretty. let me hear what a desperate little girl you are for me."

your breaths come in ragged gasps, heat pooling deep inside you as desperation takes hold. your voice trembles, barely more than a whisper at first, but gaining strength with every word.

“please… please fuck me harder,” you plead, eyes locked on his with a mixture of need and vulnerability. “i need you—need to feel you fill me up, make me yours.”

your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in as you arch your back, pressing closer to him. “don’t stop… please, don’t stop.”

the raw urgency in your voice leaves no doubt—you're begging, hungry for every rough moment he’s willing to give. a feral grin spreads across his face at your desperate plea, his eyes flashing with triumph and dark hunger. "that's my good girl," he praises roughly, his voice dripping with sadistic glee.

"begging so nicely for my dick." with no further preamble, he slams into you to the hilt, hilting himself fully inside your welcoming heat. he sets a punishing pace, each thrust jarring your entire body and forcing choked moans from your throat. "this what you wanted, right? to be split open on my fat cock?" his hand wraps around your throat, squeezing lightly as he looms over you, his muscular form caging you in.

capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, he plunders your mouth with his tongue, swallowing your wanton cries. it's a kiss full of hunger, possession, and barely restrained violence. his teeth nip at your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, the coppery taste mingling with the flavour of your shared arousal.

breaking away with a growl, he attacks your neck, biting and sucking harsh marks into the delicate skin. his hips never falter in their relentless rhythm, pounding into you with animalistic fervor. gonna ruin this pussy, he snarls against your throat, his hot breath ghosting over your ear.

"fuck a baby into this fertile womb until it takes." your cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson, a mix of surprise and something undeniably thrilling stirring inside you. your breath catches, heart pounding faster at the weight of his words.

“breed me?” you whisper, voice trembling but curious, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “how more hotter can you get?” you chuckle.

his eyes darken with primal lust at your response, a wicked smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "oh, i'm just getting started, princess," he purrs dangerously, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "by the time i'm done with you, this belly will be swollen with my seed, your tits heavy with milk. you'll always ready and eager for my cock."

to emphasize his point, he reaches down to roughly palm your stomach, as if imagining it rounded with his child. the possessive gesture sends a shiver down your spine, equal parts terrifying and arousing. "i'm going to pump you so full of my cum, you'll be leaking for days. everyone will know who this cunt belongs to."

his thrusts become erratic, driven by the primal urge to claim and breed. the wet, obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh fill the room, punctuated by your high-pitched keens and his guttural grunts. sweat drips down his straining muscles as he chases his release, determined to mark you irrevocably as his.

with a final, brutal snap of his hips, he hilts himself inside you, his thick cock pulsing and twitching as he starts to unload. hot ropes of cum paint your insides, flooding your unprotected womb with his virile seed. it feels like he's pumping a gallon of jizz directly into your core, the sheer volume causing your stomach to swell slightly with the force of his release.

as he continues to fill you with his seed, his eyes gleam with satisfaction, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "feel every drop," he growls, his movements slowing but never stopping. "you're mine now, completely mine." his grip tightens, holding you close as he empties himself into you, the sensation overwhelming and intense.

panting heavily, he collapses onto you, his softening cock still buried deep inside your cum-filled cunt. he peppers your neck and jaw with hot, open mouthed kisses, occasionally grazing his teeth over your pulse point. one large hand splays possessively over your lower abdomen, as if already imagining it round with his child.

he rolls his hips lazily, stirring the thick load of semen inside you and ensuring every drop takes root. the feeling of his potent seed sloshing around in your well used hole sends aftershocks rippling through your body, prolonging your pleasure. "fuck, i can feel it sloshing around in there," he groans appreciatively, giving your stuffed pussy a gentle squeeze.

"such a good little breeder, taking my load so well." he pulls out of you with a wet squelch, a river of pearly white cum immediately beginning to leak from your gaping, twitching hole. with a satisfied grunt, he scoops some of the excess jizz and pushes it back inside you, plugging you up with his fingers.

"don't waste a single drop." he commands huskily, his eyes glinting with dark satisfaction as he watches his seed dribble out around his digits. "keep it all inside this hungry cunt. maybe if you're lucky, it'll take and you'll be carrying my baby soon."

he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips to suck them clean, never breaking eye contact. the obscene display makes it clear that he owns you completely now—body, mind and soul.

he pauses, meeting your eyes with deliberate care. "if you’re okay with this,” he says quietly, voice steady but laced with need. “i want all of you, but only if you’ll give yourself to me.”

when you nod, whispering your consent, he finally slides his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean with a slow, sensual hum—still holding your gaze.

“good,” he breathes, lowering his hand to cradle your face tenderly. “because you’re mine… every part of you. and i’ll treasure that for as long as you let me.”

— GEPARD, JING YUAN, PHAINON, welt, luocha, BOOTHILL, CAELUS, SUNDAY

note: fyi everyone i have been working on this everyday since tuesday for 9 hours daily.

taglist 🏷️:  @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @yuri-is-silly @khoiyyu @daydreaming-paradies @xoxoangelsweets @irantoyouwithoutthinking @sanestlyneyfan @akhiran @elenasstxarr @51kim-dokjas-wife49 @khoiyyu @paradise-dreams

if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..(if you would like to be added to the taglist you can comment, dm me or send an inbox)

"you said you hated me." "i do. doesn't mean i don't think about you at night."

"you know you love the attention i give you." his thumb strokes your bottom lip "tell me to stop? as if i'd listen to your pathetic begging. you're stuck with me, baby." his grip tightens slightly "i know you dream about me too..my words, my touch..."

"…and the way I make you feel right here." his hand drifts lower, tracing a slow path that has your breath catching, the air between you charged and heavy. "don't even try to deny it."

your mouth opens agape ever so slightly, but no sound comes out. his thumb lingers at your lip, pressing just enough to keep you silent, his eyes locked onto yours like he was daring you to look away.

“that’s what i thought,” he murmured, leaning in so close you could feel the brush of his breath against your cheek. “you can pretend you don’t want this all you want, but i see the way you look at me.”

your pulse hammered in your throat, but you couldn’t move—not when he was holding you like this, not when his presence felt like it was burning through your defenses one by one.

“say it,” he ordered quietly, the words low and sharp. “say you hate me. i want to hear it.”

you swallowed hard, but your lips barely moved. “i… hate you,” you whispered, though it lacked any real conviction.

he smirked like he could taste the lie. “mmm, you don’t sound so sure, baby,” he said, his voice dripping with dangerous satisfaction. “but that’s fine. i’ve got all the time in the world to prove you wrong.”

his grip tightened just enough to make your breath hitch as he leaned even closer, his lips barely brushing the shell of your ear. “and trust me,” he whispered, voice low and dark, “i will.”

his grip on your face remains, his long fingers digging into your skin. he leans in closer, his warm breath fanning across your lips. his piercing eyes bore into yours, a twisted smirk playing on his full lips.

"you know you want this, don't you?" he lets out a dark chuckle, his free hand trailing down your neck slowly, making you shiver. his grip becomes more bruising as he pulls you flush against his muscular frame. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, a predatory gleam in his gaze.

"you're mine, accept it."

"over my dead body."

you glare up at him, forcing the words past the tightness in your throat. every part of you is trembling, but you refuse to back down, even with his grip still locked on you.

"i'm not yours."

his eyes widen slightly at your defiant response, but then a dark chuckle escapes his lips. "oh really now, is that how you want to play it? you think you can defy me?" his free hand trails down your body, fingers digging into your flesh. "i own you, your pathetic attempts at resistance only make me want you more." he bares his teeth in a feral grin.

"but if you insist.... i'll be happy to put you in your place." he yanks you towards the bed, grip unyielding and searing against your skin. you stumble forward, your heart leaping into your throat as you try to find your footing, but the pull is too strong, too sudden.

“ah!” you yelp, the startled sound escaping before you can bite it back. your body collides with his chest for a brief moment before the back of your legs bump sharply against the edge of the mattress. you flinch, your knees buckling slightly as you’re forced to sit down, his towering presence blocking out any thought of escape.

his eyes bore into yours, unblinking and dark, filled with an intensity that makes your stomach twist. he doesn’t let go of your wrist; instead, his grip tightens, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to remind you who’s in control. he leans in slowly, deliberately, until his face is only inches from yours, his breath warm against your cheek.

“look at you,” he murmurs, voice low and laced with satisfaction. “so quick to fall into place.” his other hand comes up to cage your chin, tilting your face upward so you’re forced to meet his gaze. the mattress dips under his weight as he inchescloser, hemming you in completely, his presence suffocating and overwhelming.

you squirm beneath his stare, your breath coming out uneven, but he doesn’t move back. instead, his lips curl into the faintest smirk, as though your resistance only fuels him further.

he crushes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. you try to resist, turning your head, but his grip on your throat tightens, forcing you to submit. he devours your mouth hungrily, groaning into the kiss as his free hand roams your body, squeezing and groping.

"that's it, stop fighting me. you know you love this." he hums, breaking the kiss, only to trail biting kisses down your neck, leaving angry red marks. "i'm going to ruin you. make you scream for more."

“n-no…” you breathe out weakly, though your voice barely holds any strength behind it. your hands clutch at the sheets beneath you, fingers straining around the fabric as his lips press bruising kisses down the curve of your neck, each bite making your body tremble despite the words spilling from your mouth.

“stop… i…” the protest dies in your throat, coming out as a broken whimper. you can feel your resolve crumbling, piece by piece with every mark he leaves behind. your chest rises and falls rapidly, your pulse thundering as though it’s trying to break free from your ribcage.

you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing yourself to sound defiant even as your voice shakes. “i hate you,” you whisper, though the way your body leans into his touch betrays you completely.

he chuckles against your skin, the sound dark and knowing. his hands trail down your sides, pinning you firmly in place as you finally stop fighting back, your body going slack beneath him.

“sure you do sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as his lips ghost over your ear. “stop pretending. you love every second of this, and now…” his teeth graze your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “…you’re mine.”

you let out a shaky breath, your resistance dissolving completely as his words sink in. you can’t fight him anymore, not when you know, deep down, that a part of you doesn’t want to.

sensing your surrender, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he continues his assault on your neck. "that's my good girl," he growls approvingly, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. "i knew this tight little pussy would be nothing but a sopping wet mess for me once i got you going." his hand slides down between your thighs, fingers probing at your dripping slit through your clothes.

"mmm, you're so wet already. i've barely even touched you." he chuckles, feeling your arousal coating his fingers. "can't wait to feel this sweet little cunt wrapped around my cock." he tugs at your shirt, tearing it open to expose your breasts, the sound of fabric tearing making your breath hitch. your hands instinctively come up to push him away, but they falter halfway when the cool air hits your exposed skin, goosebumps prickling across your body.

“w-wait—!” you gasp, your voice trembling as your sensitivity spikes from the sudden exposure.

he doesn’t wait. his hands slide firmly along your sides, holding you in place as he buries his face against your chest. the warmth of his breath against your skin makes you shiver, and your fingers curl helplessly into the sheets beneath you.

a startled, broken sound escapes your lips as you feel the press of his mouth against you. every nip and scrape of his teeth against your sensitive bud sends sparks racing through your nerves, your back arching despite yourself.

“please…” you manage weakly, unsure if you’re begging him to stop or begging for more. the way your body trembles tells him everything he needs to know.

he hums low in his throat, the vibration rolling through your skin, and you can feel the smirk forming against you. “so sensitive,” he murmurs darkly, his hands gripping your waist to keep you still. “you can pretend you hate this all you want, but your body doesn’t lie.”

your breath comes out in short, uneven gasps, every brush of his lips leaving you weaker, the creeping hand coming closer to your hot hole, your walls of resistance finally crumbling.

"ngh..." your thighs clamp together, slick with arousal, so disgusting. you think. he lets out a guttural groan as he feels your thighs trapping his hand, your arousal soaking through the fabric. "that's it, squeeze those beautiful legs around me." his fingers press harder against your slick folds, rubbing you through your panties.

"you want this so bad, don't you?" he lifts his head from your chest, eyes darkening with lust as he gazes down at you. "don't worry, i'm going to give you exactly what you need."

his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, yanking them down your legs roughly. he tosses them aside, his eyes raking over your bared pussy. he leans in, inhaling deeply. "fuck, you smell so good." he presses open mouthed kiss to your slick folds, tongue darting out to taste you.

"mmmm~ i knew you'd be sweet," he murmurs against your sex, the vibrations sending shivers through you. he peppers your clit and entrance with hungry kisses, then sucks it into his mouth, tongue laving and teasing the sensitive nub. "take it, bitch…let me feed on your cunt." he groans in satisfaction as he slips a long, calloused finger into your dripping pussy.

he swirls it around slowly, feeling your slick, velvety walls clenching around him. at the sudden insert of his slender fingers you your mouth contorts into an "O", letting out a sharp and lewd moan.

"that's it, scream for me." he adds a second finger, pumping them in and out at a steady rhythm. "your pussy is milking my fingers so damn good." he curls his digits, stroking your most sensitive spot relentlessly. "i bet you wish this was my cock filling you up, don't you?" fuck. you were close. at his words your hole clenched even tighter, you hated the way how he made you feel right now.

"oooooh you naughty girl, i can feel you clenching harder around me." he grins, leaning in to suck hard on your clit. "noooooo!" you cry out, your voice breaking as you try to twist away from him. your hands press weakly against his shoulders, but there’s no strength behind them anymore.

"don't fool yourself, baby." he pumps them in and out at a relentless pace, curling them to stroke your most sensitive spots. "thaaat's it, let it all out. cum for me, you filthy slut." he sucks hard on your clit, tongue swirling around the engorged nub. "i want to feel your pussy clenching around my fingers, coating them in your sweet juices." he increases the speed and pressure of his ministrations, determined to wring an earth-shattering orgasm from you.

as your body convulses in ecstasy, he wraps his strong arm around your hips, pulling you flush against him as he rides out your orgasm with you. he presses his lips to your ear, whispering dark, filthy praise as you tremble. "that's it, cum for me like the dirty girl you are." his fingers continue to pump in and out of your overstimulated pussy, drawing out your climax for as long as possible. "look at you, shaking apart in my arms. you're so fucking perfect when you let loose." he kisses the shell of your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine

he removes his fingers from your dripping pussy with a wet pop, leaving you aching and empty. "i'm going to make you beg for my dick before i even consider giving it to you." he leans down, nipping at your earlobe. "now be a good slut and spread your legs for me. show me how much you need to be filled."

your legs part slowly, almost of their own accord, every movement heavy with reluctant compliance. a rush of heat spreads through you as you feel the weight of his gaze, the air thick with tension and unspoken promises. your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding as the space between you grows smaller.

he gently takes your wrist, guiding you to lie back against the soft surface of the bed. his hands move with deliberate care as he settles between your parted legs, the warmth of his body pressing close to yours.

slowly, he leans down, his chest hovering just above yours, and his breath fans across your skin. his eyes search yours, filled with a mix of intensity and something softer beneath it all. his hands find your hips, steadying you as he adjusts his position, anchoring himself in the missionary stance. the closeness between you is electric—every heartbeat, every breath shared in this intimate space.

"'m gonna fuck that pretty pussy of yours yeah?" he grins sadisticly, enjoying the view of your fucked out, overstimulated face. "yeah?" he repeats once more in a mocking tone. your eyes were clouded, you had never been touched before like that. "mmmhm..." was all you managed to get out, your slick pussy twitching every few seconds.

a spark ignites in his eyes—dark, wild, and almost feral. his lips curl into a slow, sadistic smile that sends a shiver down your spine. there’s a dangerous thrill in the way he looks at you now, like he’s been holding back something fierce, something that’s finally been unleashed. the smile promises intensity, a mix of chaos and control, and you can’t help but feel both terrified and drawn to it.

he lets out a deep, guttural groan as he slowly pushes his thick, throbbing cock into your dripping pussy. he moves agonizingly slow, relishing the feeling of your velvety walls stretching to accommodate his impressive girth. "fuuuck, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me," his hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he sinks in to the hilt. "that's it, take every inch of me." he pauses, allowing you to adjust, before beginning to rock his hips in a slow, deep rhythm.

"hah—your pussy is practically sucking me in. it's like it was made for my cock." his pace quickens slightly, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. "i knew you'd be the perfect fit for me." he leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth to match the tempo of his thrusts.

the bruises blooms under his palms as he powers into you with recklessness. the force of his thrusts causes your breasts to bounce with each impact, the hard, pebbled nipples dragging against his chest. "fuck, i love the way your tits bounce for me." he breaks the kiss, panting heavily as he forces his face between your heaving mounds. he sucks one nipple deep into his mouth, biting down gently while his fingers tease the other.

"taste those sweet little nips. you're so sensitive for me." meanwhile, his hips never pause in their relentless pounding, his thick cock stretching you open with every thrust. his balls slap against your clit, the rough contact sending jolts of pleasure through your overstimulated body. "looks like a good pounding was all it took to make you behave, hmm?" he alleges you with his teeth and tongue as he drills into your pussy, made even steamier by the image of his tongue laving your nipples.

"look down. see how my cock is splitting you open? how your needy cunt is clinging to me? you were made for this, baby. fuck..... you.feel.so.fucking.good." his words are punctuated by the slap of flesh and your ragged moans as he fucks you senseless, visually ravaging you in the process.

he pulls back to meet your gaze, his eyes blazing with dark lust as he drives his cock deeper, the thick head rutting against your cervix. "you reek of my dick." he grinds into you harder, his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he chases your impending climax. "that's right, cum on my fat cock. coat me in your sweet juices like the willing breeding bitch you are." with one hand, he presses down on your stomach, fingers sinking into your sweat-slick skin as he watches your body tremble on the edge.

muffled moans escape your lips as he continues to pound into you mercilessly, prolonging your orgasm as he fills you to the brim with his thick seed. the sensation of his hot cum flooding your depths triggers another wave of intense pleasure, and you instinctively clench around him, milking him for every last drop.

"ah—fuck yes! fucccck!!!!" you cry out, your voice cracking from the sheer intensity of the moment. your back arches sharply against the bed as your fingers dig helplessly into the sheets, knuckles turning white. your entire body trembles, every nerve alight as the sensation crashes over you in waves, leaving you breathless. your lips part again, another strangled moan slipping free as you can’t hold back the sounds spilling from your throat.

"take all of it, you fucking dirty little cumslut." with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his release spurting deep within you.

your chest heaves as you ride out the overwhelming rush, eyes fluttering shut while the world blurs around you. the aftershocks leave your muscles weak and trembling, a soft whimper escaping as your body goes slack beneath him.

your eyes are glazed over, unfocused, the world around you little more than a blur. your mind feels blank, too overwhelmed to process anything but the warmth and weight above you. he leans down slowly, his hand cradling your jaw as his lips find yours. the kiss is deep, consuming, and you melt into it without a thought. your body reacts on instinct, lips parting as his tongue brushes against yours. the taste of him is dizzying, and your hazy mind can barely keep up as he presses harder, hungrier.

a soft, helpless sound slips from your throat as his mouth claims yours completely. drool slicks the corner of your lips, mixing with his as neither of you pulls away, his tongue plunges into your mouth to tangle with yours. the taste of your combined saliva and the lingering flavor of your shared climax mingles on his lips and tongue as he devours you.

he groans into your mouth, still rocking his hips slowly to prolong the exquisite sensations pulsing through both your bodies. his hands roam your sweat slicked skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake as he pulls you impossibly closer, needing to feel every inch of you against him.

when he finally does break it, a thin strand still connects your mouths, and you’re left gasping for air, eyes dazed as he stares down at you with that same wild, satisfied gleam.

"every inch of this tight little body belongs to me." he sums you up, his gaze roaming over your flushed features, your sated, well-fucked expression, before his eyes darken with continued hunger.

— BLADE, aventurine, boothill, MOZE

"you're mine. you just don't remember it yet."

✧ “you’re mine,” he whispers, voice soft but dripping with a twisted certainty that makes your blood run cold. “you just don’t remember it yet.”

your breath hitches, and you stumble back, your shoulders hitting the wall. “what are you talking about?” you demand, though your voice cracks halfway through.

his eyes narrow, amusement flickering behind them like a predator who’s cornered its prey. “don’t you feel it?” he steps closer, slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring every inch you retreat. “that ache in your chest… that fear in your eyes? it’s because some part of you knows.”

your heart races, a nauseating panic blooming in your stomach as he raises a hand to your face. you flinch, but he only cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin with mock tenderness. “you used to look at me like i was your whole world,” he murmurs, leaning in until you feel his breath ghost your ear. “and you will again. i made sure of it.”

your throat tightens, the words barely scraping out. “w—what did you do to me?”

he chuckles low, the sound vibrating against your skin as he presses closer. “i took away what hurt you. i took away the doubts, the lies… all the things that made you want to run from me.” his lips hover at your ear now, and his voice drops to a near growl. “and now, you’re starting over. with me. exactly where you belong.”

your knees weaken as his grip shifts to your hips, holding you firmly in place. his eyes search yours, but it’s not affection you see there—it’s possession, complete and unrelenting.

“i’ll make you remember,” he says softly, almost sweetly, though his fingers dig into your skin like iron. “and when you do… you’ll thank me for it.”

his body presses close, but his movements are jittery at first, like he’s not sure if he should be this close. his breath is uneven, and you can see the faintest flush creeping up his neck as he towers over you, but he doesn’t move away. instead, his hands tighten against your sides, pinning you softly but firmly between him and the wall.

“i… i don’t want to scare you,” he mumbles, voice trembling slightly. his eyes dart away from yours for a second, like he can’t bear to see the fear in them—but then he steels himself, leaning in closer until there’s no space left between you. “b-but you keep trying to leave me, and i can’t… i can’t let that happen. not again.”

you feel the tremor in his hands, but his grip doesn’t loosen. if anything, it grows stronger, a quiet, desperate strength that keeps you trapped in place no matter how you try to squirm away.

“p-please stop fighting me,” he stammers, though his words carry a weight that doesn’t leave room for refusal. “i’m not… i’m not letting go. you’re mine. you always were…” he swallows hard, his voice dropping to a whisper, “even if you don’t remember.”

he buries his face against your neck suddenly, shuddering as though just being this close is too much for him to handle. but then you feel the soft press of his lips against your skin, hesitant at first, before they grow more insistent.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, his breath shaky and warm against your neck. “i’m so sorry i have to do this… but you’ll understand soon. i’ll make you remember how much you need me.”

his arms wrap around you now, crushing you to his chest as his quiet, shaky breaths mix with the frantic beat of your heart. and though he trembles with nerves, there’s no mistaking the unrelenting strength in his embrace.

without another word, he crush my lips to yours, his mouth hungry and desperate, his tongue probing deep into your mouth. he kisses you like he's starved for air, as if he'll die if he didn't taste you right now.

as you kiss, his hands roam over your body, grasping and clawing at your skin, leaving scratches and marks that would linger long after you're done. he pulls you closer, his fingers digging into your hips before he spin you around, pushing you against the wall, his mouth never leaving yours as he fumble with your clothes, tearing them off with a desperation that's almost savage.

and when you're naked. your eyes widen at the sight and immediately attempt to cover it with your shaking hands. "no—!" you yelped before he removed your hands forcefully, brows furrowed. "let me taste, please." he begs softly, and for an instant you almost fold, almost.

you watched his eyes travel down to your glistening folds, he swallows hard, the sight making his hands tighten instinctively on your thighs. he hesitates for a moment, almost shy, his gaze flickering over the soft patch of hair framing your heat. the contrast only makes you look more vulnerable, more real beneath him.

“y-you’re… beautiful,” he murmurs shakily, his fingers brushing gently along the edge of your hip, like he’s trying to memorise everything about you. in the heat of the moment his mouth and tongue instantly begin exploring your pussy, licking and sucking with a ferocity that's almost animalistic.

he look up at you, his eyes blazing with a feral intensity, mouth still wrapped around your pussy. "i'll make you remember," he whispers, his voice husky and raw. "i'll make you mine, forever and always." he breathe, his hot breath whispering against your twitching cunt as he continue to devour you with fingers digging into your thighs as he holds you in place.

then he suddenly pauses, lifting his head from your glistening pussy. he gazes up at you with a mix of hunger and reverence, his hungry eyes drinking in the sight of you. slowly, almost tauntingly, he leans in, his warm breath fanning over your tender flesh. he presses a delicate kiss to your clit, lips lingering for a moment before grazing the sensitive nub with my teeth. a soft moan escapes him at the taste of you before he wraps his arms around your hips, pulling you closer.

you only got louder with the lustful sensation of his warm, slippery tongue grazing against your puffy pussy. a guttural moan escapes your lips as he works you over with his insistent tongue. you can feel your pussy clenching rhythmically around nothing but air, your body trembling with mounting pleasure.

he memorised every curve, every dip and swell of your body as his tongue began to explore, tracing the delicate folds, dipping into your entrance, and swirling around your clit in slow, teasing circles. his hands roam over your thighs, your buttocks, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

he work at your pace, savouring every gasp, every whine, every tremble that escapes your lips. with each pass of his tongue, he prays that he could bring you to the heights of pleasure, to make you surrender completely to his devotion. yes, what an ideal plan.

a desperate, feverish hunger consumes him as he presses his face further between your thighs. his tongue flicks and swirls against your slick, swollen folds, his lips sucking and nibbling hungrily. he just could not get enough of your intoxicating taste and the way your body quivers under his ministrations.

with a soft moan he flattens his tongue and drags it firmly up the length of your pussy, applying firm pressure to your sensitive clit. your back arches, pressing you harder against the wall as he holds your trembling thighs in a vice-like grip, pinning you in place. his dark, feverish eyes glare up at you, drinking in every twitch, every gasp, every desperate sound that escapes your lips. he wants to devour you, to make you scream his name as you come undone beneath his skilled, relentless mouth.

he plunges his tongue deep inside you, fucking you with long, firm strokes, my nose nuzzling against your clit. the obscene, wet sounds of the wet slurps fill the air as i lose myself in the task of bringing you to the edge of ecstasy.

his single-minded focus remains fixed on your dripping, quivering sex, his breath hot and heavy against your sensitive flesh as he continues his frenzied assault. with a lewd moan, he extends his long, slender finger, teasing the slick entrance to your core. your eyes widen at the sight, oh no, he's totally gonna finger me!

"wait! i dont—i don't want—" you plead, shaking your head in a frenzy but he pays no mind and slides it inside you with a slow, deliberate push, savouring the tight, hot glove of your pussy as it grips his finger. his thumb finds your aching clit, rubbing quick, tight circles that make you shudder and cry out.

feeling your walls clench around his invading digit, he begins to pump, driving his finger in and out in a slow and gradual rhythm designed to drive you wild. his free hand reaches around to palm your ass, giving it a hard squeeze as he tilts his head upward, giving you his all and undivided attention with his doe eyes despite both the pain and pleasure on your throbbing, dripping slit.

humming with carnal pleasure, he picks up the pace, finger fucking you with abandon as he lap at your clit and savour your essence with his tongue. his eyes blaze with a feral intensity as he devours you, his inner world consumed by the dark, primal need to make you come apart at the seams.

he curls his finger, pressing firmly against your most sensitive spots, his tongue flicking your swollen clit in time with his strokes. he can feel your climax building, your whole body coiling tighter with each passing second.

"cum for me, (y/n)," he rasp, his words punctuated by the obscene, wet sounds of his relentless finger fucking. "i want to feel you shatter around me."

with every filthy word that spills from his merciless lips, he could feel the dam inside you beginning to crumble. your once reserved demeanor is replaced by a desperate, insatiable hunger for physical release. "ohoohhh, yessss! just like that, mmmyeeeaaah! eat my pussy, make me cum hard! finger me, im getting close..!"

the admission spills from your lips like a dam breaking, a cathartic moment of surrender that leaves you helpless and exposed, a willing slave to the dark desires that now consume you entirely. and in that moment, he knows that he has truly broken you—a delicious, irreparable ruin, forever altered by the power of his uncompromising, all consuming lust.

"don't stop, don't you dare, don'tstopdon'tstopdon'tstop—ahnnnng! i'm—I'm—CUMMMINGGG!"

he continues his febrile licking and stroking as you dissolve in ecstasy, savouring the sweet nectar of your release and milking every last tremor from your convulsing body. as your body tenses and a guttural moan escapes your lips, he feels your orgasm beginning to wash over you. his tongue flicks your swollen clit with frenzied intensity, lapping up the slick arousal dripping from your pulsing pussy.

he looks at you with satisfaction, the sound muffled against your flesh as he drinks you in. his finger curls and rubs relentlessly against that sweet spot inside, coaxing you higher and higher until your back arches and your thighs clamp around his head. your trembling cries of ecstasy fill the air as you shatter, your walls clenching and fluttering around his digit.

he continues to work you through the aftershocks, slowing my pace but refusing to relent until your body finally goes limp, quivering from the intensity of your powerful climax. only then does he pull back, gazing up at you with dark, hungry eyes, his lips glistening with your essence.

before you can process what could possibly happen next, his arms tighten around your waist and he pulls you down with him. the impact is sudden but controlled as he lowers you both to the floor, never letting you slip from his grasp.

you gasp softly, your palms pressing against his chest for balance as he leans back, propping himself up slightly. his strong hands guide you easily, settling you astride his lap. the floor beneath you feels cold and unsteady, but his grip on your hips is anything but—it’s firm, possessive, like he’s anchoring you in place.

he looks up at you through dark, half-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling against yours. “stay right there,” he murmurs, his voice rough and commanding. his thumbs rub slow circles into your hips, not to soothe you but to remind you he’s the one holding you where he wants you.

you try to shift, to lean away, but his hands tighten instantly, holding you down with an unrelenting strength. the closeness makes your heart race, your body trembling as his gaze roams up and down your figure, lingering with a hunger that leaves you breathless.

“don’t move,” he whispers, his lips brushing just barely against your ear as he pulls you closer still, until you can feel every inch of his solid frame beneath you. “you’re exactly where you belong."

"you don't know what you're doing to me," he murmurs, voice gravelly with something dangerously close to reverence. his cock pulses against your stomach, hard and insistent. only now do you notice how...pretty his cock is. pale with a flushed pink tip, not too girthy but more so long...about 6 inches hard? and his veins?

you wonder how it would feel to be stretched out by him.

you suddenly snap out of your trance with his hands grabbing onto your wrist, grip tightening as he guides them to his cock with slow, deliberate movements. his breath comes heavier now, the edge of control slipping as you touch him. "god, you feel good," he whimpers, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your bones. but don't you dare stop.

he watches you, his expression unreadable, but there's a hunger in his stare that makes your pulse race. every movement you make, every flick of your wrist, sends a jolt through him. he leans into your touch, letting out a guttural sound that's all pleasure.

a string of saliva drips from the corner of his mouth as he watches you work, his breathing becoming more labored with each stroke. his hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, more contact. he's lost in the sensation, in the way your soft hands feel against his throbbing length.

"fuck, he groans, his voice strained. "just like that. don't stop...." his hands slide up your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. he grips your shoulders, pulling you closer until your breasts press against his chest. his eyes are glazed over, consumed by lust, and he isn't hiding it. he arches into your touch, his cock pulsing in your grip.

your fingers dance across his skin in rapid succession, teasing out every last drop of pleasure from him. his hips jerk upward involuntarily as you stroke him faster and faster still. you know he's close, his breaths quickening with each stroke before it hits you.

with a porn star-worthy moan, he thrusts into your hands, his hips snapping upward as his orgasm rips through him. hot cum splatters across your breasts and neck, painting your skin with evidence of his desire. his body shudders violently, muscles tensing and relaxing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over him.

"fuck!" he gasps, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise. as he finally gets a good luck at his mess on you he chuckles. "look at you. covered in me. how cute..." slowly, he opens his eyes, taking in the sight of you marked by his release. a predatory gleam flashes in his gaze, a mix of satisfaction and renewed hunger. he reaches out, swiping a finger through the mess on your collarbone before bringing it to his lips.

"delicious," he purrs, savouring the taste. your breath stutters as you watch him, your cheeks burning hotter with every second. you can barely process the sight of his finger glistening in the low light before it disappears past his lips.

“d-don’t…” you mumble, your voice trembling, barely audible. the haze clouding your thoughts makes it hard to think straight, and your body feels heavy, pliant under his touch. he tilts his head at your weak protest, that same dark intensity glimmering in his eyes, but there’s a hint of something softer there too—like he’s savoring every bit of your flustered reaction.

his hands slide up from your hips to your lower back, holding you snugly against his chest. “you’re so cute when you’re shy,” he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

with his fingers still against your back, and you feel the change instantly. the warmth in his touch vanishes, replaced by something firmer, unrelenting. his hands grip your hips suddenly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he looks up at you with a sharp, burning gaze.

“enough,” he snaps, his voice deeper now, leaving no room for argument. “i’ve been patient with you… too patient.”

you freeze, wide-eyed, but he doesn’t let you move. his hands pull you down harder onto his lap, his strength impossible to fight as his breath comes heavy against your neck.

“no more hesitation,” he growls, the words vibrating through your chest. “you’re going to take me now… every inch.”

“w-wait—” you try, but his hold on your hips tightens, cutting off any chance to scramble away. “no,” he says firmly, his tone dropping to a dangerous whisper as he leans close enough for his lips to brush your ear. “you’re done running. you’re mine… and i’m going to make sure you feel that.”

in one fluid motion, he flips you onto your back, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. his other hand trails down your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. when he reaches your core, he pauses, his fingers hovering just above where you need him most.

"beg for it," he commands, his voice a dark whisper. "tell me how badly you want my cock inside you." his eyes bore into yours, filled with challenge and barely restrained desire. he wants to hear you say it—to admit how much you crave him, how empty you feel without him filling you completely.

his thumb brushes against your clit, teasing, torturing. he's waiting, watching your reactions intently, ready to take you apart piece by piece if necessary. his other hand slides lower, two fingers plunging into your wetness without warning. he curls them, stroking that spot deep inside that makes your vision blur. his thumb circles your clit, applying just enough pressure to keep you teetering on the edge.

"o—okay, please fuck me..."

without another word, he sheathes himself inside you in one brutal thrust. your walls stretch around him as if welcoming him home. he stills for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried deep within you.

"shit," he breathes, hands travelling up before cupping your breasts. "always so perfect. so tight." then he moves, setting a punishing pace. each snap of his hips drives him deeper, harder, chasing the pleasure only you can give him. his hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat. he licks a stripe up your neck, tasting salt and sweat and pure, undiluted need.

"that's it," he pants against your skin. "take it. take everything i give you..." as he thrusts into you, his cock disappears inch by inch into your slick, glistening folds. the obscene squelch of your arousal fills the room, mingling with the slap of skin on skin and your shared moans. his shaft stretches you deliciously, hitting depths no one else ever has.

each withdrawal leaves your pussy clinging to him, reluctant to let go. but he always pushes back in, burying himself to the hilt with a groan that vibrates through both your bodies. your juices coat his length, making the slide easier even as he pounds into you relentlessly. his balls slap against your ass with every thrust, the lewd sound echoing in the room. he's lost in the rhythm, in the feeling of your warmth enveloping him, squeezing him tighter than anything he's ever felt.

in the heat on the moment he redoubles his efforts, his hips snapping forward with animalistic force. the bed creaks beneath you, threatening to break under his passion. his fingers dig into your thighs, spreading you wider as he rails into your sopping cunt.

"yes, fuck, just like that!" you cry out, your nails raking down his back. the sting only spurs him on, driving him to fuck you harder, faster, deeper. pre-cum beads at the tip of his cock, mixing with your slickness as he pistons in and out. the room fills with the filthy sounds of sex—wet smacks, gasping breaths, the occasional whimper torn from your throat. he's lost in the feeling of your pussy milking his cock, begging for his seed.

as your climax hits, he feels your walls clamp down on him like a vice. with a roar, he buries himself deep inside you one last time, his cock pulsing as he spills his load directly into your spasming cunt. his fingers find your nipples, pinching and twisting them roughly as he rides out the waves of his own release.

through it all, he keeps you pinned above him, his grip on your neck firm but not painful. his mouth crashes against yours in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy. he pours everything into it—his obsession, his possession, his twisted love—and when he finally breaks away, you're left gasping for air. tears prick at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. he watches them fall, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

before you can catch your breath, he's rolling you onto your stomach. his hand presses between your shoulder blades, forcing you down into the mattress. the heat of his body hovers over you, his erection pressing insistently against your thigh.

"we're far from done," he growls in your ear, his teeth grazing the shell. "i'm going to ruin you for anyone else. by the time i'm finished, you won't remember your own name—only mine." he spreads your legs with his hands, lining himself up with your entrance once more. without warning, he sheathes himself inside you, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. his pace is relentless, driven by a hunger that seems endless.

"mine," he repeats, like a mantra, with each powerful thrust. "all mine."

— jiaoqiu, PHAINON, IMBIBITOR LUNAE, dr. ratio, ARGENTI

"we're supposed to be competing, but last night i tasted your lips instead of victory."

✧/✧/✧/✧ you’ve been rivals for as long as you can remember, always neck-and-neck in every competition. whether it was training matches, missions, or public challenges, you pushed each other to be better—and tore each other down at the same time. the rivalry was infamous, and neither of you ever let the other forget it.

but underneath the sharp words and glares was something else, something unspoken. every heated argument felt like it teetered on the edge of something more, every accidental brush of hands lingered a little too long. you told yourself it was hatred. it had to be.

last night, though, everything cracked. the competition had been brutal, leaving you both battered and breathless. you’d cornered him, intent on taunting him for nearly losing—and instead, his mouth was on yours. the kiss had been fierce, messy, and desperate, and you hated how much you’d wanted it.

now, you’re back on the field, trying to push the memory away, but the ghost of his lips still lingers.

“we’re supposed to be competing,” you bite out, shoving past him as you pace the edge of the training field, your heart still hammering from last night’s mistake. “but last night…” your voice falters, the memory flashing behind your eyes—the press of his mouth against yours, the way you’d melted before you could stop yourself. “…last night i tasted your lips instead of victory.”

he doesn’t move from where he’s leaning against the wall, arms folded lazily across his chest like he’s completely unbothered. but his eyes—sharp, predatory—follow every step you take.

“and?” he drawls finally, voice low and maddeningly calm.

you whirl on him, heat rising to your cheeks. “and it shouldn’t have happened,” you snap. “we’re rivals, not—”

he pushes off the wall in a single, fluid motion, closing the distance between you before you can finish the sentence. the smirk playing on his lips makes your stomach twist.

“not what?” he murmurs, voice a whisper against your ear as he leans in close. “not allowed to want each other? because if that’s true… we’ve got a problem.”

his fingers brush yours, barely a touch, but it sends a jolt straight through you.

his other hand slides down to rest possessively on your hip, pulling you flush against him. you can feel the heat radiating off his body, the hard planes of his muscles pressing into your softer curves. "all that fire between us… it's not just from our rivalry. deep down, you know exactly what it is."

he leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks in a low, seductive rumble. "stop fighting it. stop pretending you don't crave my touch, my taste, the feeling of me buried deep inside you."

his words caught you off guard as you distance yourself from him slightly, giving both you and him barely enough space. "what?! are you crazy?!" you shake your head. "i do NOT want to be associated with you like that!"

“like what?” he smirks, that infuriating curl of his lips making your stomach twist. god, you hated that look. you hated him—every cocky word, every smug glance. and you were certain he felt the same; you were rivals, enemies on the field. so why… why does it suddenly feel like that’s no longer true?

he pushes you closer and you instinctively step back, your shoulder brushing against the doorframe of the gym.

“w-what are you doing?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but it comes out shakier than you’d like.

he doesn’t answer, just keeps moving forward, each step purposeful and unhurried. his presence is overwhelming, his eyes locked on yours as if daring you to run.

your back hits the edge of the door, and his hand comes up to push it open with ease. the door swings inward with a low creak, the quiet echo of the empty gym room swallowing the sound.

the bench was wide enough for both of you, its black, padded surface cool and firm beneath your thighs. the faux leather covering had that faint, distinct scent of gym equipment, slightly slick from the polish they used to clean it. the sturdy matte black steel frame didn’t budge, even as you shifted, the faint creak of the padding the only sound filling the room alongside your ragged breaths.

you try to sidestep him, but he’s already there, blocking the way. his hand presses lightly—yet firmly—at your hip, guiding you backwards, deeper into the dimly lit room.

“stop,” you whisper, but he only tilts his head, that maddening smirk tugging at his lips again as he continues to close the distance between you.

one more step and your back meets the cool wall of the gym, your escape completely cut off. his arm braces beside your head, trapping you there as he leans in, voice dropping low and deliberate.

“now,” he murmurs, eyes glinting, “tell me again how much you hate me.” he crowds into your personal space, one hand braced on the wall beside your head, the other coming up to wrap loosely around your waist. not squeezing, just a light pressure. his body pins you to the wall, all hard muscle and barely restrained power.

"your pulse is racing under my fingertips, princess. betraying your true desires." his voice is a low purr, sending shivers down your spine. "go ahead, say it. tell me you hate me while your body screams otherwise. while your nipples strain against your shirt, begging for my touch. while your thighs clench together, aching to be filled."

he rolls his hips against yours, letting you feel the thick ridge of his erection through the fabric of his pants. "c'monnnn loosen up a little..." he says, his tone light but his closeness anything but.we can't always be enemies forever right?"

you swallow hard, your pulse hammering as his breath brushes your ear. “g-get off me,” you manage, though your voice shakes, betraying you completely. a wicked grin spreads across his face at your words, his eyes gleaming with triumph and dark promise. oh, i don't think so, you don't get to dismiss me that easily."

in a flash, he hooks a leg between yours, using the leverage to grind his thigh against your core. at the same time, his hand slides from your waist to tangle in your hair, tugging your head back sharply. "we're not enemies. we never were." he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks, his hot breath fanning over your skin. "can't you feel it? this electricity between us, this undeniable pull…"

you can’t deny it—it feels good. better than you expected, even if you won’t admit it out loud.

he smirks against your skin, sensing your reluctant enjoyment. his thigh grinds harder against your core, the friction delicious even through the layers of clothing. "that's it, baby. just give in. stop fightin' this feeling." his free hand trails down your side, fingers splaying across your hip possessively. he nips at your earlobe before soothing the sting with his tongue.

"im going to worship this body until you're trembling and begging for my cock. until the only word you remember is my name." he whispers in that damn sultry voice of his. he captures your lips in a searing kiss, all teeth and tongue and pent-up passion. it's dominating, consuming, leaving no doubt about his intentions. "mmmm, you taste even better than i imagined. sweet as honey and twice as addictive."

your breath hitches as his hands trail about, his touch firm yet unbearably slow. every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, but you’re frozen, unable to form the words to stop him. his gaze never leaves yours, watching every flicker of emotion cross your face, the corner of his lips twitching upward.

emboldened by your lack of resistance, his hands begin to roam your curves more boldly. one palm cups and squeezes your breast through your shirt, thumbing your nipple roughly. the other hand slides down to grope your ass, kneading the firm flesh and pulling you harder against his grinding thigh.

"fuck, these tits… i've wanted to get my hands on them for so long." he breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. marking you as his. "gonna make you feel so good, gonna ruin you for anyone else." his fingers find the hem of your shirt and slip underneath, caressing the smooth skin of your stomach before sliding higher to fully cup your breast.

he groans appreciatively as his calloused palm envelops your soft breast, relishing the weight of it in his hand. his fingers pluck and roll your nipple, coaxing it into a stiff peak. "mmm, sensitive aren't you? love how responsive this pretty little body is…" he ducks his head, capturing a hardened bud between his teeth through the thin fabric of your bra. he laves it with his tongue, wetting the material and creating delicious friction.

his other hand continues its exploration, dipping teasingly beneath the waistband of your pants to trace the upper swell of your ass. "bet you're getting wet for me already, aren't you baby? i can practically feel the heat radiating from your poor aching pussy."

you let out a breathy moan as his fingers tease my sensitive skin, your head falling back against the wall. "a-ahh…" your voice is needy and shaky, betraying how much you're enjoying his touch despite your "hatred". the pads of his fingers circle your nipple slowly, drawing out the sensation. you gasp softly, back arching slightly to push your breast more fully into his palm. "mmmnh… that feels… ah!"

when his teeth graze your nipple, you can't help but bite your lip to stifle a louder moan. your hips twitch forward involuntarily, seeking more friction. "o—oh god…" you pant, face flushed and eyes half-lidded with growing arousal. "p—please… don't stop…"

he groans deeply as he feels the slick heat of your arousal coating his fingers. your essence clings to his digits as he strokes along your folds, teasing your entrance. "damn, you're soaked. practically dripping for me already." he teases before capturing your lips in another filthy kiss, swallowing your needy whimpers as he works two fingers knuckle deep into your tight channel. curling them just so, he rub against that spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

"that's it baby, let me hear those pretty sounds." he rasps against your mouth, his thumb finding your clit and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with his other hand grips your hip bruisingly, holding you in place as he finger fucks you with deep, purposeful strokes. "gonna make this greedy little cunt mine."

he pumps his fingers faster, plunging them deep into your sopping wet cunt. the obscene sound of your juices squelching fills the air as he finger fucks you hard and fast. "listen to that dirty wet noise, your slutty hole is making such a mess on my hand." you let out an embarrassed whimper, he chuckles softly before bringing his coated fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a groan.

"tastes divine. sweet and musky, like the perfect fucktoy." spitting crudely on your pussy, he rubs the saliva in, making the obscene squelches even louder as he resumes my vigorous pumping. "gonna ruin this pussy. mold it to fit my cock perfectly. all for me." curling his fingers just right, he strokes your g-spot as his thumb mashes against your clit.

for the first time you notice how unsteady his breathing is—how desperately he clings to you as though you’re the only thing keeping him alive. you bite your lip, torn, your body betraying you as shivers roll down your spine. he’s making you feel good—too good—you’ve never felt bad for him before. but now… now you can’t shake the thought that maybe he needs this more than you realized.

"fuck it." you mumble to yourself before reaching down to his pants, rubbing his clothed pent up buldge. "shit." you hear him mutter, "take it off for me," he says this time, louder, clearer just for you to hear. you waste no time in taking his pants off, only to be greeted with a throbbing cock.

he lets out a low groan as your small hand wraps around his throbbing shaft, stroking him with teasing touches. "just like that baby. wrap those fingers around my big, hard cock." his hips buck into your fist, seeking more friction. the tip leaks pre-cum, allowing your hand to glide smoothly along my length. "fuck!! your hand feels incredible. can't wait to feel this tight little pussy strangling me instead." he giggled.

he leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he continues to finger your dripping cunt. the wet, obscene sounds fill the air, mixing with your heavy breathing and muffled moans. "gonna stuff you full of my fat cock and pump you full of cum." god the idea of his fat cock filling you up made your pussy clench tighter.

he smirks against your lips as he feels your walls flutter around my fingers, knowing exactly what effect his words were having on you. "that's right, princess. you want this big dick stretching you out, don't you? want me to split you open on my cock until you're screaming my name." removing his fingers from your dripping cunt, he sucks them clean with a satisfied hum. "not bad, need to taste directly from the source. need to bury my face in this sweet pussy and feast on your nectar."

dropping to his knees, he hooks your legs over his shoulders and drags his tongue through your soaked folds. smiling on your cunt as he feels the way you writhe and shiver at the sudden wet warmth pressed against your sensitive core. he laps at your juices greedily, savouring your flavour. "you taste amazing. could eat this pussy for hours.

he hums on your pussy, lapping at your juices, tongue slipping in between your folds before swirling at your sensitive bud. he lets out a few pops with his mouth before flipping you onto your side with little ease, spooning up behind you. one strong arm wraps around your waist, hauling your hips back against his rock-hard erection. his other hand slips between your thighs, fingers playing with your drenched slit.

"poor baby... look at you, so desperate for my cock." he notches the broad head at your entrance, rubbing it up and down your folds to coat it in your slickness. "beg for it, tell me how badly you need to be stuffed full of my fat dick." leaning in, he nip at your earlobe before letting out an amused hum, "if you want this cock, you'd better start pleading like a good girl."

“f-fuck… i hate you,” you gasp out, your nails digging into his shoulders even as your hips tremble against his hold. “but—god—i want it, i want your cock so bad…”

your voice cracks as the pleasure coils tighter in your stomach, his dominance breaking through every wall you’ve tried to keep up. “please,” you whimper, hating how desperate you sound, “just… just give it to me.”

with a feral grin, he slams his hips forward, driving his thick cock balls deep into your tight, wet heat in one brutal thrust. a deep moan rumbles in his chest at the exquisite sensation of your walls clamping down on me. "fuuuck yes, take it all!" he snarls, immediately setting a punishing pace. each snap of my hips buries him deeper, the obscene slap of skin-on-skin echoing in the gym. his fingers dig into your hip hard enough to bruise as he fucks into you relentlessly.

"this is what you needed, isn’t it? to be used like the desperate little cock sleeve you are." reaching around, he pinches and twist your clit, determined to wring every ounce of pleasure from your quivering body. "come for me."

“ah—fuck!” you cry out, your body arching helplessly into his touch as the heat building inside you finally snaps. “oh god—i’m c-coming!”

your walls clench around him uncontrollably, every wave of pleasure crashing through you harder than the last. “p-please… don’t stop!” you sob, your voice breaking as you fall apart in his hands, hating how much you love it.

as your pussy spasms around his pistoning cock, he lets out a string of curses, his rhythm faltering for a moment before he redoubles his efforts. bending his knees slightly, he angles his hips to nail your g-spot with every thrust, the swollen knot of nerves yielding deliciously under his assault.

"oh fuck, milking my cock so good....!" the wet, filthy sounds of yours coupling fill the air, punctuated by the rhythmic thump of the pylo box shaking from the force of his thrusts. sweat drips down his brow as he fucks into you with single-minded intensity, chasing my own release. "shit, you’re gonna make me bust early at this rate." his balls draw up tight, signaling his impending climax.

“w-wait,” you gasp, clutching at his shoulders as the bench creaks beneath the both of you. your heart pounds, not just from what he’s doing but from the faint sounds echoing in the empty gym. “slow down… someone could hear us.”

he stills for just a moment, his heated breath fanning against your ear. “you’re scared they’ll know you’re letting me ruin you like this?” he whispers, voice low and teasing.

“i’m serious,” you hiss, your face burning as you glance toward the door. “please… j-just be quiet. slow down.” he tilts his head, that dangerous glint in his eyes making your stomach twist, but he obliges—his pace easing, his touch softer. “fine,” he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. “but you’ll have to keep yourself quiet, sweetheart… because i’m not stopping.”

slowing his movements, he presses his lips to your shoulder, dragging them up your neck in a series of biting kisses. his hips roll lazily, stirring up your insides without the previous frenzied pace. every inch of his cock drags against your inner walls, prolonging the delicious friction. his hand slides up your torso to palm your breast, rolling your nipple between my fingers. "wouldn't want anyone walking in on me claiming this sweet little pussy." to emphasize his point, he squeezes your tit almost painfully, pinching your nipple hard.

his thick shaft pulses inside you, the veins running along its length pressing against your sensitive walls with every shallow thrust. the flared head catches on your rim, stretching you wide before sinking back into your depths. droplets of precum leak from the tip, mingling with your copious fluids to create a slick sheen that allows my cock to slide effortlessly in and out of your grasping heat.

your breath stutters as the sound of footsteps drifts closer, every nerve in your body on edge. your instinct screams at you to pull away, to run, but his firm grip on your hips keeps you pinned right where he wants you.

“p-please,” you whisper, barely moving your lips as your body trembles. “we can’t… someone might walk in on us!”

“shhh,” he murmurs in your ear, the warmth of his breath making you shiver. “don’t think about them. think about me.”

just as he's about to come, the door to the gym creaks open. panic flashes through you, your pulse races, and though you know you should be horrified, you can’t ignore the way your body clenches around him at the thought of someone walking in, seeing you like this, but he quickly schools his features into nonchalance. keeping his movements slow and controlled, he continues to rock into you, careful not to make too much noise. "relax. they won't notice anything amiss," he whispers reassuringly, though tension coils in your gut.

his hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he works his cock in and out of your soaked cunt. the threat of discovery only heightens his arousal, the danger adding a forbidden thrill to our illicit tryst. "just focus on keeping quiet and riding my cock. don't let them distract you from coming on my dick."

“god, look at you,” he whispers, a hint of a smirk in his tone. “you like this, don’t you? the idea of someone seeing you fucked wide open on my cock.”

“no,” you gasp, though the weak protest only makes his smirk deepen.

“then why are you squeezing me so tight?” his voice is pure sin now, low and dangerous. “why does it feel like you’re about to come just from the thought of being caught?”

your face burns, the shame and arousal tangling until you don’t know where one ends and the other begins. feeling your pussy clamp down on him, he loses control. with a few more powerful thrusts, he buries myself deep inside you and explode, painting your walls white with thick ropes of cum. a low groan escapes his throat as he fills you up, his hips jerking erratically as he rides out the intense waves of pleasure.

"fuckkkkk, that's it… take every drop." he pants harshly against your neck, continuing to grind into you as he empties myself completely. finally spent, he collapses against your back, his softening cock still nestled snugly within your fluttering sheath. "goddamn, you really know how to milk a guy dry." he chuckles breathlessly, nuzzling your hair affectionately.

after a moment, he carefully pulls out of your tender flesh, watching with satisfaction as his seed trickles out of your well-used hole. he tucks himself away and adjusts hisclothes before helping you do the same, wiping away the evidence of the shared passionate encounter.

“there,” he murmurs, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he gives your ass a sharp, playful smack. “no one would ever guess what a filthy little thing you just were for me.”

his voice drops lower, sending a shiver down your spine. “though, between us… i think i prefer you messy, marked by me.” before you can respond, he pulls you close, claiming your lips in a deep, possessive kiss that leaves you breathless. “so, still 'enemies'?,” he whispers against your mouth, his hand still cupping the back of your neck.

you hesitate, your heart hammering as you meet his piercing gaze. “…i don’t know anymore,” you admit softly, your voice trembling, and his smirk widens just a little.

— anaxa, LUOCHA, SAMPO, WELT, MYDEI

"i'd burn kingdoms for you. say the word."

✧/✧/✧ from a young age, the knight bore a terrible curse—his touch seared flesh, his grip crushed bones, and his presence brought agony to all but one. isolated and feared, he lived in the shadows of kingdoms, a weapon too dangerous to wield freely.

then, one day, he was summoned to the royal court to serve the princess rumoured to be as mysterious as the curse itself. when their eyes met, something shifted—his touch, which had never healed, never soothed, softened on her skin like a gentle flame.

unbeknownst to many, the princess held a rare power, a blessing woven into her bloodline, making her immune to his pain and, more miraculously, capable of taming his curse. together, they walked a perilous path—her protection the only thing keeping him tethered to the world, his loyalty fierce enough to burn kingdoms for her.

but their love, dangerous and forbidden, threatened to ignite a war none were prepared for.

the throne room was cold, shadows stretching long across the polished stone floor. guards stood silent at the edges, but all you could see was him—your cursed knight, the one whose touch brought pain to anyone else, but never to you.

his dark eyes locked onto yours, burning with a fierce intensity that made your heart thunder. “i’d burn kingdoms for you,” he said, voice low and unwavering. “say the word.”

you swallowed hard, mesmerised by the way his hand hovered just inches from your skin—no hesitation, no fear. when his fingers finally brushed against your arm, a warmth blossomed through you, soft and safe.

how could a touch so dangerous hurt everyone else but heal you? the answer was clear, even if the world would never understand: you were a princess, and his curse belonged only to the rest of the world, but love like this was never simple.

the flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows across the chamber walls as he stepped closer, the weight of his presence pressing against you like a storm waiting to break.

his eyes, dark and smoldering, held yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. the cursed knight—feared by all, yet gentle with you—reached out, his fingertips grazing your cheek with a tenderness that belied the fire burning just beneath the surface.

“you’re the only one who can bear my touch,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “and i won’t let anyone else have you.” the air between you thickened, charged with unspoken promises and a hunger that neither could deny any longer. his hands snaked around your waist, the world outside faded until there was only the two of you, caught in the dangerous intimacy of a love that burned brighter than any curse.

"bow." your voice loud and booming with the echo. at your whispered command, his posture shifted, his broad shoulders relaxing as he lowered his head submissively. his hands released their firm hold on your waist, instead resting gently at his sides as if awaiting further instruction.

"as you wish, my princess," he murmured, his voice now soft and obedient. "i am yours to command." he kept his eyes downcast, gazing at the floor between your feet rather than meeting your gaze directly. the proud, dominant aura that usually surrounded him had vanished, replaced by a quiet humility and a willingness to submit to your every whim.

your command hung in the air, a subtle reminder of the power dynamics at play. he stood before you, tall and imposing in his silver armour, yet utterly subservient to your will. the contrast was intoxicating, a heady mix of dominance and submission that left you breathless. "please, my princess," he said, his voice a husky whisper, "tell me how I may serve you tonight."

he remained still, a living statue of obedience, awaiting your guidance. the red cape draped elegantly over his shoulders, a symbol of his devotion and readiness to fulfill whatever desires you might have. "my princess?" his voice was a gentle query, tinged with anticipation. he stood before you, a pillar of strength and servitude, ready to obey your every command.

"what is it you desire of me tonight?" his question hung in the air, a silent plea for guidance as he awaited your instructions with bated breath. the torchlight danced across his features, casting shadows that accentuated the lines of his chiselled jaw and the scar that marred his cheek—battle scars earned in service to your kingdom and your person.

"shall i prepare your bath, my lady? or perhaps attend to your wardrobe for the evening's festivities?" his tone was respectful, almost reverent, as he offered suggestions born of experience and dedication to your comfort and pleasure.

you stepped closer, the soft rustle of your gown the only sound in the dimly lit chamber. your fingers grazed his chest lightly, feeling the powerful beat of his heart beneath the hardened muscle. his breath hitched at the touch, though he kept his gaze lowered in deference.

“no,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. “none of that tonight.”

his head tilted slightly, confusion flickering in his dark eyes as he finally dared to glance up at you. “then… what would you have of me, my princess?” you let your hand trail up the line of his throat, your touch soft but commanding, and leaned in close enough for your lips to brush his ear.

“kneel,” you murmured.

the word struck him like a spell. his shoulders trembled as he obeyed without question, lowering himself until he was at your feet, head bowed, hands resting at his sides in perfect submission. “as you wish, my princess,” he breathed, his voice reverent, the anticipation in his posture undeniable.

you looked down at him on his knees before you, the flickering torchlight making his broad frame seem somehow smaller, almost vulnerable. gods, he was so cute like this. you’d always had a thing for him—the cursed knight who would cut down armies at your command but softened the moment you laid a hand on him.

your lips curved into a slow smile as you reached out, cupping his jaw in your palm and tilting his face up to meet your gaze. his dark eyes were wide and expectant, pupils blown, his breath coming just a little faster now that you were this close. “you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” you whispered, your thumb brushing along the sharp line of his scarred cheek. he nodded instantly, the motion eager and obedient.

“good,” you purred, leaning down just enough that your lips ghosted over his ear. “because i want you to pleasure me… can you do that?”

his breath hitched audibly, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine. “y–yes, my princess,” he stammered, his voice deep and rough with desire. “i… i’ll do whatever you ask.”

you stepped back just slightly, enough to look down at him with a teasing, dominant glint in your eyes. “then show me,” you commanded softly, “just how devoted you really are.”

his strong hands gripped your waist as he guided you to straddle his lap, your skirts spilling over his thighs as he settled back against the velvet cushions of the throne. you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, the hard planes of his body pressed flush against yours. from his position on the throne, he looked up at you with a mixture of reverence and hunger, his breath coming heavier as you shifted on his lap, feeling the heat of him pressed firmly beneath you.

his fingers traced the neckline of your gown, slipping beneath the fabric to caress the warm, supple skin beneath. his touch was electrifying, sending shivers of delight coursing through your body. leaning in, he pressed his lips to the sensitive hollow of your throat, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he nuzzled and kissed his way upward.

"you smell divine, my goddess," he murmured against your flesh, his voice a husky growl of desire. ”every inch of you is pure perfection.” his hands continued their sensual exploration, sliding down to cup the swell of your breasts through the thin material of your gown. he kneaded the soft mounds gently, thumbs circling the pebbled nipples until they strained against the fabric, begging for release.

a breathless moan escaped your lips, your back arching instinctively into his hands as the pleasure rippled through you. you gasp his name, your fingers tangling in his hair for balance as his thumbs brushed your sensitive peaks again.

“y-you’re teasing me,” you whispered, trying to sound reprimanding but failing as another shudder coursed down your spine. the fabric of your gown felt unbearably tight now, your nipples aching against the thin barrier. “do you want me to beg you to bare me?”

your lips curved into a shaky smile as you met his dark, smoldering gaze. “because i just might…”

a low, rumbling chuckle vibrated through his chest at your playful threat, his eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "oh, princess, i'd much prefer to hear you plead for my touch, but if begging is what it takes…" his hands slipped beneath your gown, fingers skimming the heated skin of your thighs as he slowly, deliberately pushed the fabric up.

"let's see if these pretty little tits need freeing from their confines, he teased, his thumbs dipping beneath the lace of your bra to tease the tender buds. ”and maybe we can work our way lower, see if you're hiding any other secrets down there.”

with one trembling hand, he reached for the fastenings of his own garments, divesting himself majority of clothing besides his boxers with agonising slowness. each item fell away to reveal more of his bronzed skin, etched with the lines of hard won strength and bearing the scars of countless battles fought in your service.

his gaze was riveted to your exposed breasts, his eyes darkening with lust as he drank in the sight. his hands hovered uncertainly, as if afraid to touch lest he offend or displease you. yet the longing in his expression was palpable, a raw, aching need to worship and adore you. "may i, my princess?" he asked softly, his voice a hoarse whisper. ”may i touch you here? i promise to be gentle, to cherish and honour every inch of you.”

without waiting for permission, he reached out tentatively, his calloused fingers brushing the undersides of your breasts. the contact sent jolts of pleasure racing through you, and you couldn't suppress a soft gasp. "so soft," he breathed, his touch growing bolder as he explored the curves and valleys of your flesh.

his fingers danced across your nipples, tracing the stiff peaks with a feather-light touch that sent shivers of delight coursing through your body. he watched your reactions intently, gauging your pleasure and adjusting his ministrations accordingly. “do they please you, my princess?” he asked, his voice a husky murmur. “shall i pinch them, roll them between my fingers, or perhaps suckle them gently to bring you more joy?”

he paused, awaiting your guidance, his eyes burning with a desperate, adoring hunger. in this moment, he was your willing slave, existing solely to provide you with ecstasy and satisfaction. you bit your lip, feeling the heat between your thighs grow unbearable, and slowly guided one of his large hands downward, over the soft folds of your gown, until his palm rested between your legs. “pleasure me here too,” you whispered, your voice trembling with authority and need. “can you do that for me..?”

his breath hitched as he nodded fervently, his fingers twitching beneath your guidance as if barely able to contain his desire to obey. you bit your lip and leaned forward slightly, letting one hand drift downward, trailing over the hard planes of his stomach until you reached the unmistakable bulge straining against the fabric. your fingers brushed over the heated outline teasingly, watching the way his breath caught in his throat, his hips jerking subtly beneath you.

“you’re so hard for me,” you whispered, your tone both teasing and commanding as you squeezed him lightly through the fabric. “do you want me to help you too… or should i make you wait while you pleasure me first?” at your words his entire body tensed at your touch, a low groan escaping his lips as your fingers wrapped around his throbbing length through the fabric. his eyes fluttered shut, his brow furrowing in concentration as he struggled to maintain control.

"p-please," he stuttered, his voice ragged with desire. ”don't make me wait. i ache for you, need to feel you wrapped around me, to lose myself inside your warmth.” his cock sprang free, already leaking precum as it bobbed eagerly before you, a testament to his intense arousal. "take me," he begged, his eyes opening to lock onto yours with a desperate, pleading intensity. ”use me however you desire."

your breath caught as his length stood proudly before you, thick and flushed, the bead of precum glistening at the tip like a silent plea. you let your fingers ghost along his shaft, the twitch of his hips making a thrill run down your spine.

“so eager,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing as you guided him to lie back further into the throne. “you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

“y–yes, my princess,” he breathed, his voice shaking with need.

you straddled him again, hovering just above his cock, letting the swollen head brush against your soaked entrance. his breath hitched, his hands gripping the armrests of the throne in a silent show of restraint. “good,” you purred, leaning forward so your lips brushed his ear. “because i’m going to take you… but i’m going to take my time.”

his breath was ragged as his hands slid slowly down your thighs, his touch reverent but desperate. reaching the hem of your gown, he bunched the fabric up around your hips, his fingers trembling as they found the edge of your soaked panties. he hooked a finger beneath the lace and dragged it aside, his knuckles grazing your slick, swollen folds. a soft, helpless sound escaped your lips as the air hit your heated core, and his eyes widened slightly at the sight before him.

a thin string of slick clung from the damp crotch of your panties to your glistening sex, catching the flicker of torchlight. “gods…” he whispered, almost to himself, his voice breaking with awe as his thumb brushed delicately over your entrance. “you’re so wet for me, my princess… so perfect.”

you hummed lewdly, unable to hold back the shameless sound as his movements grew more deliberate, more torturously slow. his strong hands gripped your hips, steadying you as he positioned himself perfectly against your soaked core, his gaze locked on your trembling body.

the air was electric with tension as his cock glided effortlessly through your slick folds, the sound of your wetness echoing through the room like a primal serenade. your thighs trembled, your hips twitching upward to meet each gentle thrust, as if beckoning him deeper. the sight was intoxicating - his shaft, slick with your juices, glistening like polished marble as it slid up and down your glistening folds.

the head of his cock would catch on the swollen nub of your clit, sending shivers coursing through your body, before he'd continue his languid strokes, teasing out your pleasure with every deliberate movement. your fingers dug into the armrests of the throne, the wood creaking softly in protest as you arched your back, your breasts thrusting upward like ripe fruit.

“my princess…” he gasped, the sound broken and reverent, “please—” “quiet,” you whispered, your hips rolling just enough to make him shudder. “you’re mine to use tonight. do you understand?”

“y-yes,” he stammered, though his eyes burned with something deeper than desire—devotion so raw it nearly stole your breath. his hands roved over the plush swells of your breasts, kneading the soft flesh and tweaking the pert nipples into even tighter peaks. his fingers left trails of goosebumps, sending shivers of delight coursing through you.

leaning in, he drew a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bud before giving it a gentle nip. the sensation was electric, and you arched into him, craving more of his touch. meanwhile, his cock continued its leisurely glide along your slick folds, the head bumping insistently against your clit with each pass. the dual stimulation was driving you wild, your body thrumming with need as you ground yourself against him.

a strangled moan slipped from your lips as you clutched at his broad shoulders, your nails digging into the hard muscle beneath. “g-gods,” you gasped, the words trembling as his tongue flicked over your swollen nipple again, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

he hummed lowly in response, the vibrations rumbling through your sensitive flesh as he suckled harder, teeth grazing just enough to make you shudder. your hips rolled instinctively, seeking more friction as his cock continued its languid, teasing glides through your slick folds. each deliberate stroke had the head brushing your clit, making your thighs tremble and your breath catch with every subtle bump.

“you’re driving me mad,” you whispered, voice breaking as your fingers threaded through his hair and tugged, silently begging for more. “please, don’t… don’t tease me like this anymore.” but his lips curved against your breast, his tongue tracing lazy circles around the tender peak as he kept up that torturous pace below. the dual sensations—the wet heat of his mouth and the steady grind of his cock against your dripping sex—left your body quivering, the throne’s velvet cushion damp beneath you as you ground against him with growing desperation.

“patience, my princess,” he murmured around your nipple, his tone dark and velvety. “i want to feel you come undone all over me.” you bit your lower lip, feeling your arousal dribble down your wet streaked thighs. "'m gonna do it now," you breathed as you feel his cock twitch, slightly nudging your dripping cunt.

he nods his head, excited to finally be in you. you lowered yourself slowly onto him, feeling the heat and fullness as your slick folds enveloped his length. and with a low, controlled thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his thick cockhead nudging past your cervix to nestle deep within your fertile womb. a shuddering gasp escaped him at the exquisite sensation of being fully sheathed within your slick heat.

he held still for a long moment, savouring the feeling of your body embracing his, your inner muscles rippling around the invading length of his shaft. then, with a slow, deliberate withdrawal, he slid back until only the tip remained nestled inside you, before pushing forward again, repeating the gentle rhythm. each glide of his cock through your drenched folds elicited a symphony of pleasurable sounds - the squelch of your arousal, the slap of skin, the hitched breaths and whimpers of blissful surrender.

your body instinctively clenched around him, swallowing him deep with a wet, rhythmic squeeze that made his breath hitch. the sensation was electric—tight and warm, wrapping him completely as if you were made to hold him just like this. every movement sent waves of pleasure radiating through both of you, the perfect, intimate connection burning between your bodies.

both of your moans grew louder and more lewd as he continued to slowly, deeply penetrate you, his thick cock stretching and filling you completely with each thrust. the filthy sounds of your coupling filled the room, a symphony of flesh slapping against flesh, accompanied by your wanton cries and his guttural groans of pleasure.

"fuuuuuuck," he gasped, his voice ragged with desire, "your cunt is heaven, so tight and wet around me… i could stay buried inside you forever." his hips picked up speed, driving into you with increasing urgency as he chased his impending climax. the throne remained unmoving beneath your joined weight, lost as you were in the frenzy of your passionate rutting.

you bite your lip, wanting to tell him to slow down, to take his time—but the way he moves, so powerful and unrelenting, makes it impossible.

“please… slow down,” you whisper, voice trembling with need.

his thrusts slowed to a torturous crawl, each inch of his cock dragging sensuously along your inner walls as he savored the exquisite friction. his breath came in ragged pants, "can't…stop," he panted, his voice a hoarse, desperate rasp, "feels too good, too perfect… gonna cum, gonna fill you up!" your body trembles above him as he continues, every thrust a delicious torment you never want to end.

“f-u-u-u-uckkkk!!!” your voice breaks and stretches with every movement, capturing the way your breath hitches as he pushes deeper inside you, feeling his hips slamming into yours with brutal force, his cock pulsating wildly as he spilled his seed deep inside you.

crying out your name, he emptied himself in great, spurting jets, each pulse triggering a ripple of contractions within your clenching walls. "YESSSSS....!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the stone walls as he rode out the crest of his orgasm, lost to the sheer bliss of claiming you so thoroughly. finally, with a shuddering sigh, he collapsed atop you, his spent cock still buried to the hilt as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning your skin.

you place a gentle kiss on his temple, hands pushing yourself up before moving to hold his knees. "i'm gonna keep going yeah? wanna feel you even more," you moan, and with deliberate care, you drag your walls up and down his sensitive cock, the slick heat of your folds tightening deliciously around him. the friction sends a fresh wave of pleasure through both your bodies, making his breath hitch and his fingers twitch where they grip the throne’s carved wood.

his eyes lock onto yours, dark and desperate, as you continue your slow, sensual rhythm—each movement pulling you both deeper into the fire that burns between you.

a soft, desperate moan escaped his lips—high pitched and helpless, senselessly begging for mor as your hands grip the throne’s armrests tighter, nails digging into the wood as his eyes fluttered closed, utterly lost to the pleasure you were giving him. every slick stroke of your walls had him shuddering uncontrollably, completely surrendered beneath your control.

as you began to bounce up and down faster on his still spurting cock, his eyes widened in shock, a high-pitched moan tearing from his throat. he'd never been taken so aggressively, never experienced such unbridled power and dominance from a lover.

"ahhh, yes, fuck!!" he cried out, his voice cracking with pleasure and surprise, "more, please, i need it-ngh...~!" his hands flew to your hips, gripping them tightly as he struggled to maintain some semblance of control, to guide your movements rather than simply being swept away by the torrent of sensation. but it was a losing battle, and soon he was simply clinging to you, his head thrown back in ecstasy as you rode him with wild abandon.

"oh gods, you feel amazing, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-"

you lean in closer, your voice a low, teasing whisper that drips with authority. “that’s it pretty boy,” you murmur, your fingers tightening their grip just enough to send shivers through him. “you want to come for me, don’t you? show me how much you need me.”

your lips brush against his ear as you drag your walls slower, deeper, and more deliberately around him, coaxing every inch of pleasure from his trembling body.

“let go,” you command softly, your breath hot against his skin. “i want to feel you lose control.” his moans grow louder, more frantic, the desperate need in his eyes begging for your permission to release.

“cum for me,” you whisper, voice low and seductive. “come undone in my hands.” at your command, his body seized, his cock jerking violently inside you as a massive orgasm ripped through him. he choked your name, his voice raw and desperate, as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over him.

"cumming, princess, cumming so hard!" he gasped, his hips bucking erratically to meet your downward thrusts. his seed pulsed out in thick, scalding streams, flooding your convulsing channel and painting your inner walls with his essence. feeling his climax, your own breath hitches and your eyes roll back, every nerve alight with a scorching heat. your walls clamp down around him instinctively, pulling him deeper as your own orgasm surges through you in overwhelming sync.

the sensation of your tight, spasming pussy milking his cock was almost too much to bear, and his vision blurred at the edges as he teetered on the brink of blackout. yet still he clung to you, his fingers digging into your flesh as he surrendered to the overwhelming tide of bliss.

as the last waves of pleasure subsided, his chest heaved with exhaustion, his eyes locked on yours with a mixture of awe and adoration. the air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, and the sound of your ragged breathing filled his ears. he felt his heart still racing, his body trembling with the aftershocks of their intense lovemaking. it was as if the entire world had narrowed to a single, shining point—the two of you, lost in the depths of your passion.

as the last tremors of your shared orgasms subsided, he pulled you into a searing, passionate kiss. soft moans escaped both of you, the kiss a perfect storm of need and tenderness as his lips moved hungrily against yours, tasting the salt of your sweat, the sweetness of your breath. he poured all his desire, his adoration, into the heated embrace, his tongue delving deep with yours.

when finally he broke away, his chest heaved, his eyes burning with an insatiable hunger. "one more round, princess?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper, "i don't think i can get enough of you tonight…"

— GEPARD, DAN HENG, luka, gallagher, PHAINON, SUNDAY

"tell me you want it. say it like you mean it."

✧/✧/✧ you had always clashed with him. it didn’t matter if it was in the training arena, behind closed doors during strategy meetings, or even in front of others—you and he simply didn’t see eye to eye. you were both strong-willed, sharp-tongued, and unwilling to back down. and that tension… everyone else noticed it too.

but what no one knew was how that fire between you burned just as hot in private. there were nights when the sharp glares and cutting words gave way to something far more dangerous, far more consuming.

tonight was one of those nights.

you were pressed against the cold stone wall of the barracks, your breath coming in short gasps as his body pinned yours in place. his voice was a low growl in your ear, commanding, unwavering, leaving no room for resistance.

“tell me you want it,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. his hands held your wrists firmly above your head, his strength making it impossible to break free. “say it like you mean it.”

the power thrummed through every word, his dominance demanding not just your body but your admission, your surrender. and despite the way your pride flared, you couldn’t deny how badly you wanted him, how much the fire between you consumed every thought.

your breath hitched as his grip on your wrists tightened, the rough scrape of the wall against your back a sharp reminder of just how trapped you were. your pride burned hot in your chest, urging you to stay silent, to keep even a shred of control over the situation.

but gods… the way he looked at you. his eyes were dark, intense, searing into your very soul as though he could see through every facade you’d ever built. the proximity of his body, the heat radiating off him, only made it harder to keep your resolve from crumbling.

“i–i don’t—” you started, your voice faltering when he suddenly leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing your ear as he whispered again, low and commanding.

“say it like you mean it.”

his free hand trailed slowly down your side, fingers grazing the curve of your hip before resting firmly against your thigh, holding you in place. your entire body trembled with need, but you bit your lip hard, still resisting, even as a traitorous whimper slipped past your lips.

he tilted his head, lips brushing your jaw now. “you’re shaking,” he murmured, voice dark and knowing. “you want me… so why don’t you admit it?” his grip loosens slightly, but he doesn't let go. His other hand moves to cup the back of your neck, tilting your face up so he can look at you properly. the smirk that plays on his lips is slow, deliberate, and full of something dangerously close to satisfaction.

"you're not exactly making this easy," he mutters, his voice lower than usual, almost a growl. "but then again, you never have been." he leans in again, this time pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. there's no pressure, no force—just the weight of his presence, the unspoken challenge between you.

"you think you're the first person to try to play hard to get with me? you're not even close." he steps back just enough to let you breathe, but not escape.

your chest heaves as the sudden space between you feels like a taunt, like he’s daring you to run even though you both know you won’t. your back remains pressed to the wall, the phantom heat of his body still clinging to your skin. his hand remains on the back of your neck, thumb brushing idly along the curve of your jaw in a touch that feels far too intimate for the tension threading between you.

“you’re infuriating,” you manage, though your voice lacks the bite you intended. he chuckles lowly, the sound reverberating through your chest. “maybe. but i’m not wrong,” he murmurs, voice like velvet over steel. “you want me. you’ve always wanted me.”

his forehead presses to yours again, his gaze pinning you in place, holding you as securely as any physical restraint.

“say it,” he whispers, almost softly this time, though the command in his tone is undeniable. “tell me you want me, and i’ll give you everything you’re too scared to ask for.”

your lips part, but the words catch in your throat as his thumb grazes over your lower lip, coaxing, teasing, patient yet utterly unyielding. his eyes flicker down to your parted lips, lingering there for a moment before meeting your gaze again. there's a heat in those dark depths, a promise and a challenge all at once. when he speaks again, his voice is low and rough, sending shivers down your spine.

"i've seen the way you look at me when you think i'm not watching. the flush on your cheeks, how your breath quickens…" his hand slides from your jaw to the side of your neck, feeling your pulse jump beneath his fingertips. "don't deny it. we both know the truth." he whispers closer, his lips a hairsbreadth from yours now. you can feel the warmth of his breath mingling with your own.

"you say you hate me, but your body… it betrays you. it craves my touch, my attention." his hand slides down from your neck to your collarbone, fingers splayed possessively across your racing heart. the heat of his palm seeps through the thin fabric of your shirt, branding your skin. "i can feel how fast your heart is beating," he murmurs, voice a low rumble. "like a caged bird desperate to break free.iIs that what you are, desperate for me?"

his other hand releases your wrist only to trail slowly, teasingly, up your arm, leaving goosebumps on your skin. he leans in, nose skimming along your jaw, inhaling deeply as if savoring your scent. "you drive me mad."

your hands press lightly against his chest, not enough to push him away, just enough to keep the smallest bit of distance between you. you can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms, maddeningly calm compared to your own frantic rhythm.

“i…” the word slips from your lips as barely a whisper, your gaze flicking down, unable to meet his piercing eyes. you should push him away. you should say no. but the heat coiling low in your stomach betrays you, the way your body leans instinctively into his touch, giving you away.

his fingers splay wider against your collarbone, a subtle reminder of his control as he tilts his head to catch your gaze. “look at me,” he murmurs, his voice dark velvet.

you swallow hard, slowly lifting your eyes to his. the intensity in his stare makes your breath hitch, your fingers curling slightly against his chest as though holding on to something solid.

“should i take your silence as a yes?” he teases softly, his lips brushing your temple. “or are you still going to fight me?”

your heart pounds painfully in your chest as you bite your lip, every part of you screaming to resist even as the pull toward him grows stronger. “i… i don’t know,” you finally whisper, voice trembling.

his smirk returns, slow and dangerous, his thumb brushing along your jaw. “then let me show you,” he murmurs, leaning in just close enough for his breath to fan across your lips. “i’ll make you want me so badly you won’t be able to deny it.”

his hand slides from your jaw to tangle in your hair, gripping gently but firmly. he uses the hold to tilt your head back, exposing the column of your throat to his heated gaze. his other hand trails down your side, coming to rest on your hip, where he squeezes lightly, pulling you impossibly closer.

“just… feel,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your pulse point. “if you want me to stop, say the word and i will. but if you want this, little bird… let yourself go. only if you want it too.”

he pauses deliberately, giving you space to pull away, to decide. when you don’t, when instead your body leans subtly closer, he nips lightly at your earlobe before soothing the sting with his tongue, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin.

one of his legs slips between yours, pressing against your core as he grinds subtly against you. "that's it," he purrs, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "stop thinking, stop overthinking. just feel the heat building between us, the way our bodies fit together like they were made for each other."

his hand on your hip slides around to grip your ass, kneading the flesh roughly as he pulls you harder against him. you can feel every hard plane of his body pressed against your softer curves, the evidence of his arousal evident even through their clothes.

"i'm going to worship every inch of you,"

his lips blaze a trail of fire up your neck, pausing to nip and suck at your earlobe. his hand in your hair tugs gently, forcing your head back further to expose more of your throat to his hungry mouth. "gonna taste you everywhere," he growls against your skin, his voice rough with desire. "lick and suck until you're writhing, begging for more."

the hand on your ass slides around to grip your thigh, hoisting your leg up to wrap around his waist. he grinds against you harder, letting you feel the thick ridge of his erection through his pants. "feel that, baby? feel what you do to me?" he pants, his hips rolling in a slow, filthy grind. "i'm so fucking hard for you already. can't wait to bury myself inside your tight little cunt."

you swallow hard, your chest heaving as the heat from his body makes your thoughts swirl. your hands clutch at his shoulders for balance, your voice soft but steady as you whisper, “yes.”

he stills, pulling back just enough to search your face, his dark eyes locked onto yours. “what?” he asks quietly, almost as if he needs to hear it again. your cheeks flush as you take a shaky breath, gathering every ounce of courage to say the words. “i… i want it,” you admit, voice trembling but sure.

a low, pleased growl rumbles in his chest, and the corner of his mouth curls into a sinful smirk. “that’s a good girl,” he murmurs, his hand in your hair loosening to cradle the back of your head with surprising tenderness. “you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

he walks backwards towards the bed, keeping you pinned against his chest. with a swift movement, he sits on the edge of the mattress and pulls you down to straddle his lap. his large hands settle on your hips, thumbs rubbing circles on your hipbones as he looks up at you with hooded eyes. his hands skim down your sides, fingers digging into your hips possessively as he grinds his hardness against your core.

"i've wanted this for so long." he groans, his lips finding the shell of your ear. "wanted to bend you over and take you, claim you, make you mine." one hand slides under your shirt, calloused palm skimming over the smooth skin of your stomach before cupping your breast roughly. he thumbs your nipple through the thin lace of your bra, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"gonna ruin you," he promises darkly, nipping at your jaw. "fuck you so good you'll forget your own name." a breathless laugh slips past your lips, though it’s tinged with anticipation. “then you’d better back that up,” you murmur, tilting your chin up in a teasing challenge.

your nails lightly drag over his shoulders as you add, voice soft but daring, “show me just how good you can fuck me… make me forget everything but you.”

"oh, i'll make you feel things you've never felt before." he murmurs against your pulse point. his hands slide up your sides, pushing your shirt up and off in one smooth motion. he tosses it aside carelessly, his dark eyes raking over your exposed skin hungrily. leaning in, he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his tongue darting out to taste your skin.

"beautiful," he rumbles appreciatively, palming your breasts through the thin lace of your bra. "can't wait to get my mouth on these perfect tits."

with deft fingers, he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, freeing your breasts. he groans at the sight, immediately ducking his head to capture the tender peak of your breast between his lips. he suckles hard, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as his hand kneads the soft flesh of the other breast.

he lavishes attention on your breasts, alternating between firm suckles and gentle licks. his hands roam your back, tracing the dip of your waist and the flare of your hips. he rocks you against his lap, grinding his cloth-covered erection against your core in a delicious friction.

"fuck, the way you move, he groans, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. "so responsive and eager for my touch." he breathes, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your pants, he starts tugging them down, along with your panties. he swiftly strips you completely bare, leaving you naked in his lap.

"gonna explore every inch of you," he promises, his hands mapping the newly exposed skin of your thighs. "and find all the places that make you gasp and moan."

your breath hitched at his words, heat rushing to your cheeks as his hands roamed your bare thighs with slow, deliberate intent. “g-gods…” you whispered, bringing your hands up to cover your face in a flustered attempt to hide how much his words affected you.

he let out a low chuckle, leaning in closer so his breath brushed against your ear. “oh? shy now?” he teased softly, fingers squeezing your thighs just enough to make you squirm. “don’t hide from me… i’m going to explore every inch of you, remember? and i want to see every single expression when i find the spots that make you gasp and moan.”

he lays you back on the bed, hovering over you with a predatory gleam in his eye. slowly, torturously, he peels off his own shirt, revealing the hard planes of his chest and abs. he settles between your thighs, the heat of his body seeping into your skin. starting at your ankle, he begins to map your body with his mouth.

he presses open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your calf, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. he works his way higher, lavishing attention on the sensitive spot behind your knee, the crease of your thigh. as he nears your center, he pauses, his hot breath ghosting over your most intimate area. he looks up at you, dark eyes smoldering with lust.

your breath hitched as his gaze locked onto yours, the intensity in his eyes making your heart race even faster. your hands fisted in the sheets beneath you, toes curling as anticipation coiled tight in your belly. “please…” you whispered, your voice trembling, though you weren’t even sure what you were begging for—only that you needed more of his touch, more of him.

you bit your lip, lifting your hips ever so slightly toward him in silent invitation, your cheeks flushing at your own boldness. “don’t… don’t stop now,” you managed, your voice soft but desperate. “i… i want you.”

"want you too baby," he replies before he knelt on the floor at the foot of the bed, broad shoulders relaxed but his grip on your waist firm as he pulled you down the mattress. the cool sheets bunched beneath you as he dragged you toward the edge, your thighs instinctively parting for him.

“closer,” he murmured, voice low and commanding, hooking his hands behind your knees to pull them over his shoulders. your thighs trembled as he adjusted you exactly where he wanted, your hips now balanced perfectly at the edge of the bed.

he glanced up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, the heat in his stare making your breath catch. one hand slid around to anchor at your hip while the other pressed lightly against your thigh, keeping you open for him.

“that’s it,” he whispered, leaning in until his breath fanned warm over your most sensitive spot. “stay right here for me… i want you just like this.” without warning, he buries his face between your thighs, his tongue delving deep into your dripping folds. he laps at your essence, moaning at the sweet taste of your arousal. his hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he feasts on your pussy like a starving man.

he focuses his attention on your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. at the same time, he thrusts two fingers knuckle deep into your tight channel, pumping them in and out in a relentless rhythm.

he slows his movements, taking his time to savour your taste and reactions. he starts with feather light touches—the barest brush of his tongue along your slit, the gentlest caress of his fingers inside you. he watches your face intently, gauging your responses.

every so often, he darts his tongue out to circle your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp before pulling back. his fingers remain still inside you, curled to hit that special spot but not moving, letting you feel full and stretched. he alternates between these teasing touches and long, slow licks up your entire sex, from entrance to clit and back again. each stroke of his tongue is deliberate, designed to build the tension slowly, maddeningly.

he withdraws his fingers from your dripping cunt, leaving you empty and aching. slowly, teasingly, he brings his thumb to your slick folds, coating it in your juices. he rubs the pad of his thumb in slow, deliberate circles around your clit, applying just enough pressure to make your hips buck involuntarily.

"look at this pretty little pussy," he purrs, his voice a low, dirty rumble. "so wet for me already. practically dripping onto the sheets." he dips his thumb lower, collecting more of your essence before bringing it up to your clit again. this time, he presses down harder, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub.

"this greedy cunt is begging for my cock, isn't it? throbbing and clenching, desperate to be filled." your fingers twist tightly in the sheets, knuckles turning white as you fight to keep your body still, but it’s useless. a soft, broken moan escapes your lips, your hips jerking helplessly at the relentless circles of his thumb.

“p-please…” you whimper, your voice trembling with need as your thighs instinctively try to close around his hand, only for him to hold you open. your back arches, breasts pressing up toward the ceiling as the pleasure builds unbearably, your slick dripping down onto the sheets just like he said.

“i-it’s too much,” you whisper through a shaky breath, though the way your hips rock against his thumb betrays just how badly you crave it. “i… i need you, please…”

your eyes flutter open, hazy and wet with tears you hadn’t realized had gathered, looking down at him through your lashes. “i’m so empty,” you admit softly, your voice cracking on the words. “please fill me… i can’t take it anymore.”

he continues his assault on your sex, alternating between broad strokes and targeted flicks of his thumb. his other hand slides up your body to cup your breast, kneading the soft flesh and rolling your nipple between his fingers. leaning in, he replaces his thumb with his tongue, lapping at your folds in long, slow licks.

he savours your taste, moaning against your skin as he drinks in your arousal. his hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider as he buries his face deeper between your legs, determined to bring you to the heights of pleasure with nothing but his skilled mouth. he adds a third finger to the mix, stretching you wider as he pumps them in and out at a faster pace. his fingers curl inside you, stroking along your inner walls as he targets that sensitive spot deep within.

at the same time, he enhcnaces his efforts on your clit, flicking the sensitive nub rapidly with the tip of his tongue. the dual stimulation proves overwhelming, and he can feel your walls starting to flutter around his invading digits. he doubles down, sucking your clit into his mouth and humming around it, the vibrations pushing you closer to the edge.

his thumb moved faster now, the slick circles on your clit growing tighter, more deliberate, as he worked you closer to the edge. your breath hitched sharply, each inhale coming quicker than the last, your chest rising and falling in frantic rhythm.

your hips jerked upward to meet the relentless motion, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as the pleasure spiked. “ah—god, please!” you gasped, voice shaking, toes curling against the sheets as you clutched them even tighter.

every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire, the quick, ruthless pace of his touch sending shivers racing through you. your breath quickened to the point of desperation, soft whimpers tumbling from your lips in time with each rapid stroke.

“i—i can’t—” you panted, back arching as the tension coiled tight inside you. “it’s too much… i’m gonna—!” feeling you teetering on the brink, he redoubles his efforts. his fingers piston in and out of your clenching heat at a breakneck pace, curling to hit that magic spot with every thrust. at the same time, he closes his lips around your clit and sucks hard, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves rapidly with the tip of his tongue.

he can sense your impending release, your walls starting to flutter and squeeze around his fingers. determined to push you over the edge, he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of your inner thigh, marking you as his. the sharp burst of pain mingles with the intense pleasure, catapulting you into ecstasy.

your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pure bliss radiates from your core. he doesn't let up as you come undone, continuing to work you through your intense climax with his mouth and fingers. as the aftershocks start to subside, he slowly eases you down, placing soft kisses along your inner thighs and mound.

"fuck, that was beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "the way you fall apart for me, so passionate. i could watch you come all day."

he crawls up your body, settling between your spread thighs. the hard length of his erection nestles against your sensitive, still throbbing core. he braces himself above you, dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

gently, he reaches beneath your back, sliding his hands under your shoulders to shift your weight as he eases you onto your back fully. with careful, deliberate movements, he positions himself between your legs, his hips aligning with yours.

his hands slide down to cup your cheeks, thumbs tracing slow circles as he leans in closer, lips brushing yours in a heated kiss. the warmth of his body presses down onto yours, the weight both comforting and electrifying.

his hips press forward just enough for the tip of him to tease your entrance, sending a delicious ache curling through you. "ready for me, princess?" he whispers, voice low and thick with need.

your fingers clutch at his shoulders as he begins to slowly, deeply push inside you, the stretch both overwhelming and intoxicating. your breath catches, eyes locking with his as he rubs his angry tip at your clit.

"looks like they're kissing, hm?" he teases right before pausing just at the entrance, his eyes searching yours with gentle concern. “tell me if it hurts, okay? i want this to feel good for you,” he murmurs softly, his voice full of care. slowly, he begins to push inside, inch by careful inch, giving you time to adjust to the stretch.

his hands stay steady on your hips, holding you securely but tenderly, ready to pull back at the slightest sign of discomfort. when you nod, reassuring him you’re okay, he moves a little deeper, always watching your face for any sign you need him to stop. “you’re doing so well,” he breathes against your lips, his voice thick with affection.

once he’s fully inside, he holds still for a moment, letting you feel every inch before starting to move with a steady, commanding rhythm, each thrust drawing a moan from deep within your chest.

he sets a deep, powerful rhythm, his hips snapping against yours with purposeful intent. each thrust fills you completely, the thick length of him stretching you in the most delicious way. he angles his hips to hit that special spot inside you with every stroke, determined to stoke the embers of your pleasure back into a raging inferno.

"shiiiiit, you feel incredible..." he groans, his forehead resting against yours. "so tight, so perfect. like you were made for my cock." one hand slides down to grip your hip, holding you steady as he increases his pace. the other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. he latches onto your pulse point, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, intent on marking you as his.

"gonna fill this sweet cunt with my cum," your hot sex clenches at his words, the image of his cum painting your walls white got you excited. "fuck—yes! fuck me harder," you beg, the feeling of his painfully big cock sliding in and out of your slippery core.

"fuck you harder what....?" he hums, slowing his pace just to tease you. "fuck me harder..please..." spurred on by your plea, he begins to pound into you with wild abandon. the bed frame slams against the wall with each powerful thrust, the obscene sound mixing with your cries of pleasure. his hips blur with the speed and force of his movements, chasing his own release while determined to bring you to another earth-shattering climax.

"yes, fuck, just like that!" he snarls, sweat beading on his brow from the exertion. "take my cock, princess. milk it with this greedy little pussy like the good girl you are." he changes the angle slightly, somehow managing to go even deeper. the new position allows him to grind against your clit with every thrust, the added stimulation pushing you rapidly towards the edge once more.

his balls slap against your ass with each snap of his hips, the lewd noise only adding to the intensity of the moment. the room fills with the vulgar sounds of skin slapping against skin and your shameless moans. rivulets of sweat trickle down his chest, mingling with the slick evidence of your arousal coating his pistoning cock. the sheets beneath you are soaked and tangled, bearing testament to your shared passion.

"awh, look at the mess we're making," he pants, glancing down at where you're joined. "your pretty little hole is dripping all over my cock, making such a filthy squelch. you love being used like a fucktoy, don't you?" he punctuates his words with particularly brutal thrusts, angling to grind against your g-spot with every stroke.

reaching down, he collects some of the slick coating his shaft and brings his coated fingers to your lips. "taste yourself." you waste no time in taking his fingers in your mouth, head bobbing down as you sucked on his coated fingers with a lewd moan.

"mmmm mm....." his fingers slip past your lips, the musky, slightly salty taste of your combined arousal explodes across your tongue. it's an intense flavour—the essence of your desire mixed with the taste of his skin. the texture is slick and slightly sticky, coating your mouth and leaving a tingling sensation as you swirl your tongue around the digits, cleaning them thoroughly.

the scent is heady and intoxicating, filling your nostrils with the primal aroma of sex. it's a potent reminder of your mutual lust and the depravity of the act you're engaged in. as you suckle and lick, you can feel the heat of his gaze on you, drinking in the erotic sight of you debasing yourself for his pleasure.

he groans at the erotic sight of you suckling his fingers clean, your lips wrapped around the digits as you mimic the act of oral sex. pulling his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, he uses his saliva slick hand to stroke his throbbing cock, smearing your combined fluids along the rigid shaft.

"that's it, get a nice biiiiiig mouthful of our mixed juices. fuck, the things you do to me…" he lines himself up with your entrance once more, the swollen head nudging insistently at your slick folds. "beg for my cum, pretty. let me hear what a desperate little girl you are for me."

your breaths come in ragged gasps, heat pooling deep inside you as desperation takes hold. your voice trembles, barely more than a whisper at first, but gaining strength with every word.

“please… please fuck me harder,” you plead, eyes locked on his with a mixture of need and vulnerability. “i need you—need to feel you fill me up, make me yours.”

your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in as you arch your back, pressing closer to him. “don’t stop… please, don’t stop.”

the raw urgency in your voice leaves no doubt—you're begging, hungry for every rough moment he’s willing to give. a feral grin spreads across his face at your desperate plea, his eyes flashing with triumph and dark hunger. "that's my good girl," he praises roughly, his voice dripping with sadistic glee.

"begging so nicely for my dick." with no further preamble, he slams into you to the hilt, hilting himself fully inside your welcoming heat. he sets a punishing pace, each thrust jarring your entire body and forcing choked moans from your throat. "this what you wanted, right? to be split open on my fat cock?" his hand wraps around your throat, squeezing lightly as he looms over you, his muscular form caging you in.

capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, he plunders your mouth with his tongue, swallowing your wanton cries. it's a kiss full of hunger, possession, and barely restrained violence. his teeth nip at your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, the coppery taste mingling with the flavour of your shared arousal.

breaking away with a growl, he attacks your neck, biting and sucking harsh marks into the delicate skin. his hips never falter in their relentless rhythm, pounding into you with animalistic fervor. gonna ruin this pussy, he snarls against your throat, his hot breath ghosting over your ear.

"fuck a baby into this fertile womb until it takes." your cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson, a mix of surprise and something undeniably thrilling stirring inside you. your breath catches, heart pounding faster at the weight of his words.

“breed me?” you whisper, voice trembling but curious, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “how more hotter can you get?” you chuckle.

his eyes darken with primal lust at your response, a wicked smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "oh, i'm just getting started, princess," he purrs dangerously, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "by the time i'm done with you, this belly will be swollen with my seed, your tits heavy with milk. you'll always ready and eager for my cock."

to emphasize his point, he reaches down to roughly palm your stomach, as if imagining it rounded with his child. the possessive gesture sends a shiver down your spine, equal parts terrifying and arousing. "i'm going to pump you so full of my cum, you'll be leaking for days. everyone will know who this cunt belongs to."

his thrusts become erratic, driven by the primal urge to claim and breed. the wet, obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh fill the room, punctuated by your high-pitched keens and his guttural grunts. sweat drips down his straining muscles as he chases his release, determined to mark you irrevocably as his.

with a final, brutal snap of his hips, he hilts himself inside you, his thick cock pulsing and twitching as he starts to unload. hot ropes of cum paint your insides, flooding your unprotected womb with his virile seed. it feels like he's pumping a gallon of jizz directly into your core, the sheer volume causing your stomach to swell slightly with the force of his release.

as he continues to fill you with his seed, his eyes gleam with satisfaction, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "feel every drop," he growls, his movements slowing but never stopping. "you're mine now, completely mine." his grip tightens, holding you close as he empties himself into you, the sensation overwhelming and intense.

panting heavily, he collapses onto you, his softening cock still buried deep inside your cum-filled cunt. he peppers your neck and jaw with hot, open mouthed kisses, occasionally grazing his teeth over your pulse point. one large hand splays possessively over your lower abdomen, as if already imagining it round with his child.

he rolls his hips lazily, stirring the thick load of semen inside you and ensuring every drop takes root. the feeling of his potent seed sloshing around in your well used hole sends aftershocks rippling through your body, prolonging your pleasure. "fuck, i can feel it sloshing around in there," he groans appreciatively, giving your stuffed pussy a gentle squeeze.

"such a good little breeder, taking my load so well." he pulls out of you with a wet squelch, a river of pearly white cum immediately beginning to leak from your gaping, twitching hole. with a satisfied grunt, he scoops some of the excess jizz and pushes it back inside you, plugging you up with his fingers.

"don't waste a single drop." he commands huskily, his eyes glinting with dark satisfaction as he watches his seed dribble out around his digits. "keep it all inside this hungry cunt. maybe if you're lucky, it'll take and you'll be carrying my baby soon."

he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips to suck them clean, never breaking eye contact. the obscene display makes it clear that he owns you completely now—body, mind and soul.

he pauses, meeting your eyes with deliberate care. "if you’re okay with this,” he says quietly, voice steady but laced with need. “i want all of you, but only if you’ll give yourself to me.”

when you nod, whispering your consent, he finally slides his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean with a slow, sensual hum—still holding your gaze.

“good,” he breathes, lowering his hand to cradle your face tenderly. “because you’re mine… every part of you. and i’ll treasure that for as long as you let me.”

— GEPARD, JING YUAN, PHAINON, welt, luocha, BOOTHILL, CAELUS, SUNDAY

note: fyi everyone i have been working on this everyday since tuesday for 9 hours daily.

taglist 🏷️:  @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @yuri-is-silly @khoiyyu @daydreaming-paradies @xoxoangelsweets @irantoyouwithoutthinking @sanestlyneyfan @akhiran @elenasstxarr @51kim-dokjas-wife49 @khoiyyu @paradise-dreams

if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..(if you would like to be added to the taglist you can comment, dm me or send an inbox)

"you know you love the attention i give you." his thumb strokes your bottom lip "tell me to stop? as if i'd listen to your pathetic begging. you're stuck with me, baby." his grip tightens slightly "i know you dream about me too..my words, my touch..."

"…and the way I make you feel right here." his hand drifts lower, tracing a slow path that has your breath catching, the air between you charged and heavy. "don't even try to deny it."

your mouth opens agape ever so slightly, but no sound comes out. his thumb lingers at your lip, pressing just enough to keep you silent, his eyes locked onto yours like he was daring you to look away.

“that’s what i thought,” he murmured, leaning in so close you could feel the brush of his breath against your cheek. “you can pretend you don’t want this all you want, but i see the way you look at me.”

your pulse hammered in your throat, but you couldn’t move—not when he was holding you like this, not when his presence felt like it was burning through your defenses one by one.

“say it,” he ordered quietly, the words low and sharp. “say you hate me. i want to hear it.”

you swallowed hard, but your lips barely moved. “i… hate you,” you whispered, though it lacked any real conviction.

he smirked like he could taste the lie. “mmm, you don’t sound so sure, baby,” he said, his voice dripping with dangerous satisfaction. “but that’s fine. i’ve got all the time in the world to prove you wrong.”

his grip tightened just enough to make your breath hitch as he leaned even closer, his lips barely brushing the shell of your ear. “and trust me,” he whispered, voice low and dark, “i will.”

his grip on your face remains, his long fingers digging into your skin. he leans in closer, his warm breath fanning across your lips. his piercing eyes bore into yours, a twisted smirk playing on his full lips.

"you know you want this, don't you?" he lets out a dark chuckle, his free hand trailing down your neck slowly, making you shiver. his grip becomes more bruising as he pulls you flush against his muscular frame. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, a predatory gleam in his gaze.

"you're mine, accept it."

"over my dead body."

you glare up at him, forcing the words past the tightness in your throat. every part of you is trembling, but you refuse to back down, even with his grip still locked on you.

"i'm not yours."

his eyes widen slightly at your defiant response, but then a dark chuckle escapes his lips. "oh really now, is that how you want to play it? you think you can defy me?" his free hand trails down your body, fingers digging into your flesh. "i own you, your pathetic attempts at resistance only make me want you more." he bares his teeth in a feral grin.

"but if you insist.... i'll be happy to put you in your place." he yanks you towards the bed, grip unyielding and searing against your skin. you stumble forward, your heart leaping into your throat as you try to find your footing, but the pull is too strong, too sudden.

“ah!” you yelp, the startled sound escaping before you can bite it back. your body collides with his chest for a brief moment before the back of your legs bump sharply against the edge of the mattress. you flinch, your knees buckling slightly as you’re forced to sit down, his towering presence blocking out any thought of escape.

his eyes bore into yours, unblinking and dark, filled with an intensity that makes your stomach twist. he doesn’t let go of your wrist; instead, his grip tightens, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to remind you who’s in control. he leans in slowly, deliberately, until his face is only inches from yours, his breath warm against your cheek.

“look at you,” he murmurs, voice low and laced with satisfaction. “so quick to fall into place.” his other hand comes up to cage your chin, tilting your face upward so you’re forced to meet his gaze. the mattress dips under his weight as he inchescloser, hemming you in completely, his presence suffocating and overwhelming.

you squirm beneath his stare, your breath coming out uneven, but he doesn’t move back. instead, his lips curl into the faintest smirk, as though your resistance only fuels him further.

he crushes his lips against yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth. you try to resist, turning your head, but his grip on your throat tightens, forcing you to submit. he devours your mouth hungrily, groaning into the kiss as his free hand roams your body, squeezing and groping.

"that's it, stop fighting me. you know you love this." he hums, breaking the kiss, only to trail biting kisses down your neck, leaving angry red marks. "i'm going to ruin you. make you scream for more."

“n-no…” you breathe out weakly, though your voice barely holds any strength behind it. your hands clutch at the sheets beneath you, fingers straining around the fabric as his lips press bruising kisses down the curve of your neck, each bite making your body tremble despite the words spilling from your mouth.

“stop… i…” the protest dies in your throat, coming out as a broken whimper. you can feel your resolve crumbling, piece by piece with every mark he leaves behind. your chest rises and falls rapidly, your pulse thundering as though it’s trying to break free from your ribcage.

you squeeze your eyes shut, forcing yourself to sound defiant even as your voice shakes. “i hate you,” you whisper, though the way your body leans into his touch betrays you completely.

he chuckles against your skin, the sound dark and knowing. his hands trail down your sides, pinning you firmly in place as you finally stop fighting back, your body going slack beneath him.

“sure you do sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough as his lips ghost over your ear. “stop pretending. you love every second of this, and now…” his teeth graze your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. “…you’re mine.”

you let out a shaky breath, your resistance dissolving completely as his words sink in. you can’t fight him anymore, not when you know, deep down, that a part of you doesn’t want to.

sensing your surrender, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he continues his assault on your neck. "that's my good girl," he growls approvingly, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. "i knew this tight little pussy would be nothing but a sopping wet mess for me once i got you going." his hand slides down between your thighs, fingers probing at your dripping slit through your clothes.

"mmm, you're so wet already. i've barely even touched you." he chuckles, feeling your arousal coating his fingers. "can't wait to feel this sweet little cunt wrapped around my cock." he tugs at your shirt, tearing it open to expose your breasts, the sound of fabric tearing making your breath hitch. your hands instinctively come up to push him away, but they falter halfway when the cool air hits your exposed skin, goosebumps prickling across your body.

“w-wait—!” you gasp, your voice trembling as your sensitivity spikes from the sudden exposure.

he doesn’t wait. his hands slide firmly along your sides, holding you in place as he buries his face against your chest. the warmth of his breath against your skin makes you shiver, and your fingers curl helplessly into the sheets beneath you.

a startled, broken sound escapes your lips as you feel the press of his mouth against you. every nip and scrape of his teeth against your sensitive bud sends sparks racing through your nerves, your back arching despite yourself.

“please…” you manage weakly, unsure if you’re begging him to stop or begging for more. the way your body trembles tells him everything he needs to know.

he hums low in his throat, the vibration rolling through your skin, and you can feel the smirk forming against you. “so sensitive,” he murmurs darkly, his hands gripping your waist to keep you still. “you can pretend you hate this all you want, but your body doesn’t lie.”

your breath comes out in short, uneven gasps, every brush of his lips leaving you weaker, the creeping hand coming closer to your hot hole, your walls of resistance finally crumbling.

"ngh..." your thighs clamp together, slick with arousal, so disgusting. you think. he lets out a guttural groan as he feels your thighs trapping his hand, your arousal soaking through the fabric. "that's it, squeeze those beautiful legs around me." his fingers press harder against your slick folds, rubbing you through your panties.

"you want this so bad, don't you?" he lifts his head from your chest, eyes darkening with lust as he gazes down at you. "don't worry, i'm going to give you exactly what you need."

his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, yanking them down your legs roughly. he tosses them aside, his eyes raking over your bared pussy. he leans in, inhaling deeply. "fuck, you smell so good." he presses open mouthed kiss to your slick folds, tongue darting out to taste you.

"mmmm~ i knew you'd be sweet," he murmurs against your sex, the vibrations sending shivers through you. he peppers your clit and entrance with hungry kisses, then sucks it into his mouth, tongue laving and teasing the sensitive nub. "take it, bitch…let me feed on your cunt." he groans in satisfaction as he slips a long, calloused finger into your dripping pussy.

he swirls it around slowly, feeling your slick, velvety walls clenching around him. at the sudden insert of his slender fingers you your mouth contorts into an "O", letting out a sharp and lewd moan.

"that's it, scream for me." he adds a second finger, pumping them in and out at a steady rhythm. "your pussy is milking my fingers so damn good." he curls his digits, stroking your most sensitive spot relentlessly. "i bet you wish this was my cock filling you up, don't you?" fuck. you were close. at his words your hole clenched even tighter, you hated the way how he made you feel right now.

"oooooh you naughty girl, i can feel you clenching harder around me." he grins, leaning in to suck hard on your clit. "noooooo!" you cry out, your voice breaking as you try to twist away from him. your hands press weakly against his shoulders, but there’s no strength behind them anymore.

"don't fool yourself, baby." he pumps them in and out at a relentless pace, curling them to stroke your most sensitive spots. "thaaat's it, let it all out. cum for me, you filthy slut." he sucks hard on your clit, tongue swirling around the engorged nub. "i want to feel your pussy clenching around my fingers, coating them in your sweet juices." he increases the speed and pressure of his ministrations, determined to wring an earth-shattering orgasm from you.

as your body convulses in ecstasy, he wraps his strong arm around your hips, pulling you flush against him as he rides out your orgasm with you. he presses his lips to your ear, whispering dark, filthy praise as you tremble. "that's it, cum for me like the dirty girl you are." his fingers continue to pump in and out of your overstimulated pussy, drawing out your climax for as long as possible. "look at you, shaking apart in my arms. you're so fucking perfect when you let loose." he kisses the shell of your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine

he removes his fingers from your dripping pussy with a wet pop, leaving you aching and empty. "i'm going to make you beg for my dick before i even consider giving it to you." he leans down, nipping at your earlobe. "now be a good slut and spread your legs for me. show me how much you need to be filled."

your legs part slowly, almost of their own accord, every movement heavy with reluctant compliance. a rush of heat spreads through you as you feel the weight of his gaze, the air thick with tension and unspoken promises. your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding as the space between you grows smaller.

he gently takes your wrist, guiding you to lie back against the soft surface of the bed. his hands move with deliberate care as he settles between your parted legs, the warmth of his body pressing close to yours.

slowly, he leans down, his chest hovering just above yours, and his breath fans across your skin. his eyes search yours, filled with a mix of intensity and something softer beneath it all. his hands find your hips, steadying you as he adjusts his position, anchoring himself in the missionary stance. the closeness between you is electric—every heartbeat, every breath shared in this intimate space.

"'m gonna fuck that pretty pussy of yours yeah?" he grins sadisticly, enjoying the view of your fucked out, overstimulated face. "yeah?" he repeats once more in a mocking tone. your eyes were clouded, you had never been touched before like that. "mmmhm..." was all you managed to get out, your slick pussy twitching every few seconds.

a spark ignites in his eyes—dark, wild, and almost feral. his lips curl into a slow, sadistic smile that sends a shiver down your spine. there’s a dangerous thrill in the way he looks at you now, like he’s been holding back something fierce, something that’s finally been unleashed. the smile promises intensity, a mix of chaos and control, and you can’t help but feel both terrified and drawn to it.

he lets out a deep, guttural groan as he slowly pushes his thick, throbbing cock into your dripping pussy. he moves agonizingly slow, relishing the feeling of your velvety walls stretching to accommodate his impressive girth. "fuuuck, you feel so fucking good wrapped around me," his hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he sinks in to the hilt. "that's it, take every inch of me." he pauses, allowing you to adjust, before beginning to rock his hips in a slow, deep rhythm.

"hah—your pussy is practically sucking me in. it's like it was made for my cock." his pace quickens slightly, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room. "i knew you'd be the perfect fit for me." he leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth to match the tempo of his thrusts.

the bruises blooms under his palms as he powers into you with recklessness. the force of his thrusts causes your breasts to bounce with each impact, the hard, pebbled nipples dragging against his chest. "fuck, i love the way your tits bounce for me." he breaks the kiss, panting heavily as he forces his face between your heaving mounds. he sucks one nipple deep into his mouth, biting down gently while his fingers tease the other.

"taste those sweet little nips. you're so sensitive for me." meanwhile, his hips never pause in their relentless pounding, his thick cock stretching you open with every thrust. his balls slap against your clit, the rough contact sending jolts of pleasure through your overstimulated body. "looks like a good pounding was all it took to make you behave, hmm?" he alleges you with his teeth and tongue as he drills into your pussy, made even steamier by the image of his tongue laving your nipples.

"look down. see how my cock is splitting you open? how your needy cunt is clinging to me? you were made for this, baby. fuck..... you.feel.so.fucking.good." his words are punctuated by the slap of flesh and your ragged moans as he fucks you senseless, visually ravaging you in the process.

he pulls back to meet your gaze, his eyes blazing with dark lust as he drives his cock deeper, the thick head rutting against your cervix. "you reek of my dick." he grinds into you harder, his heavy balls slapping against your clit as he chases your impending climax. "that's right, cum on my fat cock. coat me in your sweet juices like the willing breeding bitch you are." with one hand, he presses down on your stomach, fingers sinking into your sweat-slick skin as he watches your body tremble on the edge.

muffled moans escape your lips as he continues to pound into you mercilessly, prolonging your orgasm as he fills you to the brim with his thick seed. the sensation of his hot cum flooding your depths triggers another wave of intense pleasure, and you instinctively clench around him, milking him for every last drop.

"ah—fuck yes! fucccck!!!!" you cry out, your voice cracking from the sheer intensity of the moment. your back arches sharply against the bed as your fingers dig helplessly into the sheets, knuckles turning white. your entire body trembles, every nerve alight as the sensation crashes over you in waves, leaving you breathless. your lips part again, another strangled moan slipping free as you can’t hold back the sounds spilling from your throat.

"take all of it, you fucking dirty little cumslut." with a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his release spurting deep within you.

your chest heaves as you ride out the overwhelming rush, eyes fluttering shut while the world blurs around you. the aftershocks leave your muscles weak and trembling, a soft whimper escaping as your body goes slack beneath him.

your eyes are glazed over, unfocused, the world around you little more than a blur. your mind feels blank, too overwhelmed to process anything but the warmth and weight above you. he leans down slowly, his hand cradling your jaw as his lips find yours. the kiss is deep, consuming, and you melt into it without a thought. your body reacts on instinct, lips parting as his tongue brushes against yours. the taste of him is dizzying, and your hazy mind can barely keep up as he presses harder, hungrier.

a soft, helpless sound slips from your throat as his mouth claims yours completely. drool slicks the corner of your lips, mixing with his as neither of you pulls away, his tongue plunges into your mouth to tangle with yours. the taste of your combined saliva and the lingering flavor of your shared climax mingles on his lips and tongue as he devours you.

he groans into your mouth, still rocking his hips slowly to prolong the exquisite sensations pulsing through both your bodies. his hands roam your sweat slicked skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake as he pulls you impossibly closer, needing to feel every inch of you against him.

when he finally does break it, a thin strand still connects your mouths, and you’re left gasping for air, eyes dazed as he stares down at you with that same wild, satisfied gleam.

"every inch of this tight little body belongs to me." he sums you up, his gaze roaming over your flushed features, your sated, well-fucked expression, before his eyes darken with continued hunger.

— BLADE, aventurine, boothill, MOZE

"you're mine. you just don't remember it yet."

✧ “you’re mine,” he whispers, voice soft but dripping with a twisted certainty that makes your blood run cold. “you just don’t remember it yet.”

your breath hitches, and you stumble back, your shoulders hitting the wall. “what are you talking about?” you demand, though your voice cracks halfway through.

his eyes narrow, amusement flickering behind them like a predator who’s cornered its prey. “don’t you feel it?” he steps closer, slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring every inch you retreat. “that ache in your chest… that fear in your eyes? it’s because some part of you knows.”

your heart races, a nauseating panic blooming in your stomach as he raises a hand to your face. you flinch, but he only cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin with mock tenderness. “you used to look at me like i was your whole world,” he murmurs, leaning in until you feel his breath ghost your ear. “and you will again. i made sure of it.”

your throat tightens, the words barely scraping out. “w—what did you do to me?”

he chuckles low, the sound vibrating against your skin as he presses closer. “i took away what hurt you. i took away the doubts, the lies… all the things that made you want to run from me.” his lips hover at your ear now, and his voice drops to a near growl. “and now, you’re starting over. with me. exactly where you belong.”

your knees weaken as his grip shifts to your hips, holding you firmly in place. his eyes search yours, but it’s not affection you see there—it’s possession, complete and unrelenting.

“i’ll make you remember,” he says softly, almost sweetly, though his fingers dig into your skin like iron. “and when you do… you’ll thank me for it.”

his body presses close, but his movements are jittery at first, like he’s not sure if he should be this close. his breath is uneven, and you can see the faintest flush creeping up his neck as he towers over you, but he doesn’t move away. instead, his hands tighten against your sides, pinning you softly but firmly between him and the wall.

“i… i don’t want to scare you,” he mumbles, voice trembling slightly. his eyes dart away from yours for a second, like he can’t bear to see the fear in them—but then he steels himself, leaning in closer until there’s no space left between you. “b-but you keep trying to leave me, and i can’t… i can’t let that happen. not again.”

you feel the tremor in his hands, but his grip doesn’t loosen. if anything, it grows stronger, a quiet, desperate strength that keeps you trapped in place no matter how you try to squirm away.

“p-please stop fighting me,” he stammers, though his words carry a weight that doesn’t leave room for refusal. “i’m not… i’m not letting go. you’re mine. you always were…” he swallows hard, his voice dropping to a whisper, “even if you don’t remember.”

he buries his face against your neck suddenly, shuddering as though just being this close is too much for him to handle. but then you feel the soft press of his lips against your skin, hesitant at first, before they grow more insistent.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, his breath shaky and warm against your neck. “i’m so sorry i have to do this… but you’ll understand soon. i’ll make you remember how much you need me.”

his arms wrap around you now, crushing you to his chest as his quiet, shaky breaths mix with the frantic beat of your heart. and though he trembles with nerves, there’s no mistaking the unrelenting strength in his embrace.

without another word, he crush my lips to yours, his mouth hungry and desperate, his tongue probing deep into your mouth. he kisses you like he's starved for air, as if he'll die if he didn't taste you right now.

as you kiss, his hands roam over your body, grasping and clawing at your skin, leaving scratches and marks that would linger long after you're done. he pulls you closer, his fingers digging into your hips before he spin you around, pushing you against the wall, his mouth never leaving yours as he fumble with your clothes, tearing them off with a desperation that's almost savage.

and when you're naked. your eyes widen at the sight and immediately attempt to cover it with your shaking hands. "no—!" you yelped before he removed your hands forcefully, brows furrowed. "let me taste, please." he begs softly, and for an instant you almost fold, almost.

you watched his eyes travel down to your glistening folds, he swallows hard, the sight making his hands tighten instinctively on your thighs. he hesitates for a moment, almost shy, his gaze flickering over the soft patch of hair framing your heat. the contrast only makes you look more vulnerable, more real beneath him.

“y-you’re… beautiful,” he murmurs shakily, his fingers brushing gently along the edge of your hip, like he’s trying to memorise everything about you. in the heat of the moment his mouth and tongue instantly begin exploring your pussy, licking and sucking with a ferocity that's almost animalistic.

he look up at you, his eyes blazing with a feral intensity, mouth still wrapped around your pussy. "i'll make you remember," he whispers, his voice husky and raw. "i'll make you mine, forever and always." he breathe, his hot breath whispering against your twitching cunt as he continue to devour you with fingers digging into your thighs as he holds you in place.

then he suddenly pauses, lifting his head from your glistening pussy. he gazes up at you with a mix of hunger and reverence, his hungry eyes drinking in the sight of you. slowly, almost tauntingly, he leans in, his warm breath fanning over your tender flesh. he presses a delicate kiss to your clit, lips lingering for a moment before grazing the sensitive nub with my teeth. a soft moan escapes him at the taste of you before he wraps his arms around your hips, pulling you closer.

you only got louder with the lustful sensation of his warm, slippery tongue grazing against your puffy pussy. a guttural moan escapes your lips as he works you over with his insistent tongue. you can feel your pussy clenching rhythmically around nothing but air, your body trembling with mounting pleasure.

he memorised every curve, every dip and swell of your body as his tongue began to explore, tracing the delicate folds, dipping into your entrance, and swirling around your clit in slow, teasing circles. his hands roam over your thighs, your buttocks, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

he work at your pace, savouring every gasp, every whine, every tremble that escapes your lips. with each pass of his tongue, he prays that he could bring you to the heights of pleasure, to make you surrender completely to his devotion. yes, what an ideal plan.

a desperate, feverish hunger consumes him as he presses his face further between your thighs. his tongue flicks and swirls against your slick, swollen folds, his lips sucking and nibbling hungrily. he just could not get enough of your intoxicating taste and the way your body quivers under his ministrations.

with a soft moan he flattens his tongue and drags it firmly up the length of your pussy, applying firm pressure to your sensitive clit. your back arches, pressing you harder against the wall as he holds your trembling thighs in a vice-like grip, pinning you in place. his dark, feverish eyes glare up at you, drinking in every twitch, every gasp, every desperate sound that escapes your lips. he wants to devour you, to make you scream his name as you come undone beneath his skilled, relentless mouth.

he plunges his tongue deep inside you, fucking you with long, firm strokes, my nose nuzzling against your clit. the obscene, wet sounds of the wet slurps fill the air as i lose myself in the task of bringing you to the edge of ecstasy.

his single-minded focus remains fixed on your dripping, quivering sex, his breath hot and heavy against your sensitive flesh as he continues his frenzied assault. with a lewd moan, he extends his long, slender finger, teasing the slick entrance to your core. your eyes widen at the sight, oh no, he's totally gonna finger me!

"wait! i dont—i don't want—" you plead, shaking your head in a frenzy but he pays no mind and slides it inside you with a slow, deliberate push, savouring the tight, hot glove of your pussy as it grips his finger. his thumb finds your aching clit, rubbing quick, tight circles that make you shudder and cry out.

feeling your walls clench around his invading digit, he begins to pump, driving his finger in and out in a slow and gradual rhythm designed to drive you wild. his free hand reaches around to palm your ass, giving it a hard squeeze as he tilts his head upward, giving you his all and undivided attention with his doe eyes despite both the pain and pleasure on your throbbing, dripping slit.

humming with carnal pleasure, he picks up the pace, finger fucking you with abandon as he lap at your clit and savour your essence with his tongue. his eyes blaze with a feral intensity as he devours you, his inner world consumed by the dark, primal need to make you come apart at the seams.

he curls his finger, pressing firmly against your most sensitive spots, his tongue flicking your swollen clit in time with his strokes. he can feel your climax building, your whole body coiling tighter with each passing second.

"cum for me, (y/n)," he rasp, his words punctuated by the obscene, wet sounds of his relentless finger fucking. "i want to feel you shatter around me."

with every filthy word that spills from his merciless lips, he could feel the dam inside you beginning to crumble. your once reserved demeanor is replaced by a desperate, insatiable hunger for physical release. "ohoohhh, yessss! just like that, mmmyeeeaaah! eat my pussy, make me cum hard! finger me, im getting close..!"

the admission spills from your lips like a dam breaking, a cathartic moment of surrender that leaves you helpless and exposed, a willing slave to the dark desires that now consume you entirely. and in that moment, he knows that he has truly broken you—a delicious, irreparable ruin, forever altered by the power of his uncompromising, all consuming lust.

"don't stop, don't you dare, don'tstopdon'tstopdon'tstop—ahnnnng! i'm—I'm—CUMMMINGGG!"

he continues his febrile licking and stroking as you dissolve in ecstasy, savouring the sweet nectar of your release and milking every last tremor from your convulsing body. as your body tenses and a guttural moan escapes your lips, he feels your orgasm beginning to wash over you. his tongue flicks your swollen clit with frenzied intensity, lapping up the slick arousal dripping from your pulsing pussy.

he looks at you with satisfaction, the sound muffled against your flesh as he drinks you in. his finger curls and rubs relentlessly against that sweet spot inside, coaxing you higher and higher until your back arches and your thighs clamp around his head. your trembling cries of ecstasy fill the air as you shatter, your walls clenching and fluttering around his digit.

he continues to work you through the aftershocks, slowing my pace but refusing to relent until your body finally goes limp, quivering from the intensity of your powerful climax. only then does he pull back, gazing up at you with dark, hungry eyes, his lips glistening with your essence.

before you can process what could possibly happen next, his arms tighten around your waist and he pulls you down with him. the impact is sudden but controlled as he lowers you both to the floor, never letting you slip from his grasp.

you gasp softly, your palms pressing against his chest for balance as he leans back, propping himself up slightly. his strong hands guide you easily, settling you astride his lap. the floor beneath you feels cold and unsteady, but his grip on your hips is anything but—it’s firm, possessive, like he’s anchoring you in place.

he looks up at you through dark, half-lidded eyes, his chest rising and falling against yours. “stay right there,” he murmurs, his voice rough and commanding. his thumbs rub slow circles into your hips, not to soothe you but to remind you he’s the one holding you where he wants you.

you try to shift, to lean away, but his hands tighten instantly, holding you down with an unrelenting strength. the closeness makes your heart race, your body trembling as his gaze roams up and down your figure, lingering with a hunger that leaves you breathless.

“don’t move,” he whispers, his lips brushing just barely against your ear as he pulls you closer still, until you can feel every inch of his solid frame beneath you. “you’re exactly where you belong."

"you don't know what you're doing to me," he murmurs, voice gravelly with something dangerously close to reverence. his cock pulses against your stomach, hard and insistent. only now do you notice how...pretty his cock is. pale with a flushed pink tip, not too girthy but more so long...about 6 inches hard? and his veins?

you wonder how it would feel to be stretched out by him.

you suddenly snap out of your trance with his hands grabbing onto your wrist, grip tightening as he guides them to his cock with slow, deliberate movements. his breath comes heavier now, the edge of control slipping as you touch him. "god, you feel good," he whimpers, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your bones. but don't you dare stop.

he watches you, his expression unreadable, but there's a hunger in his stare that makes your pulse race. every movement you make, every flick of your wrist, sends a jolt through him. he leans into your touch, letting out a guttural sound that's all pleasure.

a string of saliva drips from the corner of his mouth as he watches you work, his breathing becoming more labored with each stroke. his hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, more contact. he's lost in the sensation, in the way your soft hands feel against his throbbing length.

"fuck, he groans, his voice strained. "just like that. don't stop...." his hands slide up your arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. he grips your shoulders, pulling you closer until your breasts press against his chest. his eyes are glazed over, consumed by lust, and he isn't hiding it. he arches into your touch, his cock pulsing in your grip.

your fingers dance across his skin in rapid succession, teasing out every last drop of pleasure from him. his hips jerk upward involuntarily as you stroke him faster and faster still. you know he's close, his breaths quickening with each stroke before it hits you.

with a porn star-worthy moan, he thrusts into your hands, his hips snapping upward as his orgasm rips through him. hot cum splatters across your breasts and neck, painting your skin with evidence of his desire. his body shudders violently, muscles tensing and relaxing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over him.

"fuck!" he gasps, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise. as he finally gets a good luck at his mess on you he chuckles. "look at you. covered in me. how cute..." slowly, he opens his eyes, taking in the sight of you marked by his release. a predatory gleam flashes in his gaze, a mix of satisfaction and renewed hunger. he reaches out, swiping a finger through the mess on your collarbone before bringing it to his lips.

"delicious," he purrs, savouring the taste. your breath stutters as you watch him, your cheeks burning hotter with every second. you can barely process the sight of his finger glistening in the low light before it disappears past his lips.

“d-don’t…” you mumble, your voice trembling, barely audible. the haze clouding your thoughts makes it hard to think straight, and your body feels heavy, pliant under his touch. he tilts his head at your weak protest, that same dark intensity glimmering in his eyes, but there’s a hint of something softer there too—like he’s savoring every bit of your flustered reaction.

his hands slide up from your hips to your lower back, holding you snugly against his chest. “you’re so cute when you’re shy,” he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

with his fingers still against your back, and you feel the change instantly. the warmth in his touch vanishes, replaced by something firmer, unrelenting. his hands grip your hips suddenly, his fingers digging into your flesh as he looks up at you with a sharp, burning gaze.

“enough,” he snaps, his voice deeper now, leaving no room for argument. “i’ve been patient with you… too patient.”

you freeze, wide-eyed, but he doesn’t let you move. his hands pull you down harder onto his lap, his strength impossible to fight as his breath comes heavy against your neck.

“no more hesitation,” he growls, the words vibrating through your chest. “you’re going to take me now… every inch.”

“w-wait—” you try, but his hold on your hips tightens, cutting off any chance to scramble away. “no,” he says firmly, his tone dropping to a dangerous whisper as he leans close enough for his lips to brush your ear. “you’re done running. you’re mine… and i’m going to make sure you feel that.”

in one fluid motion, he flips you onto your back, pinning your wrists above your head with one large hand. his other hand trails down your body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. when he reaches your core, he pauses, his fingers hovering just above where you need him most.

"beg for it," he commands, his voice a dark whisper. "tell me how badly you want my cock inside you." his eyes bore into yours, filled with challenge and barely restrained desire. he wants to hear you say it—to admit how much you crave him, how empty you feel without him filling you completely.

his thumb brushes against your clit, teasing, torturing. he's waiting, watching your reactions intently, ready to take you apart piece by piece if necessary. his other hand slides lower, two fingers plunging into your wetness without warning. he curls them, stroking that spot deep inside that makes your vision blur. his thumb circles your clit, applying just enough pressure to keep you teetering on the edge.

"o—okay, please fuck me..."

without another word, he sheathes himself inside you in one brutal thrust. your walls stretch around him as if welcoming him home. he stills for a moment, savoring the feeling of being buried deep within you.

"shit," he breathes, hands travelling up before cupping your breasts. "always so perfect. so tight." then he moves, setting a punishing pace. each snap of his hips drives him deeper, harder, chasing the pleasure only you can give him. his hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat. he licks a stripe up your neck, tasting salt and sweat and pure, undiluted need.

"that's it," he pants against your skin. "take it. take everything i give you..." as he thrusts into you, his cock disappears inch by inch into your slick, glistening folds. the obscene squelch of your arousal fills the room, mingling with the slap of skin on skin and your shared moans. his shaft stretches you deliciously, hitting depths no one else ever has.

each withdrawal leaves your pussy clinging to him, reluctant to let go. but he always pushes back in, burying himself to the hilt with a groan that vibrates through both your bodies. your juices coat his length, making the slide easier even as he pounds into you relentlessly. his balls slap against your ass with every thrust, the lewd sound echoing in the room. he's lost in the rhythm, in the feeling of your warmth enveloping him, squeezing him tighter than anything he's ever felt.

in the heat on the moment he redoubles his efforts, his hips snapping forward with animalistic force. the bed creaks beneath you, threatening to break under his passion. his fingers dig into your thighs, spreading you wider as he rails into your sopping cunt.

"yes, fuck, just like that!" you cry out, your nails raking down his back. the sting only spurs him on, driving him to fuck you harder, faster, deeper. pre-cum beads at the tip of his cock, mixing with your slickness as he pistons in and out. the room fills with the filthy sounds of sex—wet smacks, gasping breaths, the occasional whimper torn from your throat. he's lost in the feeling of your pussy milking his cock, begging for his seed.

as your climax hits, he feels your walls clamp down on him like a vice. with a roar, he buries himself deep inside you one last time, his cock pulsing as he spills his load directly into your spasming cunt. his fingers find your nipples, pinching and twisting them roughly as he rides out the waves of his own release.

through it all, he keeps you pinned above him, his grip on your neck firm but not painful. his mouth crashes against yours in a searing kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy. he pours everything into it—his obsession, his possession, his twisted love—and when he finally breaks away, you're left gasping for air. tears prick at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all. he watches them fall, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

before you can catch your breath, he's rolling you onto your stomach. his hand presses between your shoulder blades, forcing you down into the mattress. the heat of his body hovers over you, his erection pressing insistently against your thigh.

"we're far from done," he growls in your ear, his teeth grazing the shell. "i'm going to ruin you for anyone else. by the time i'm finished, you won't remember your own name—only mine." he spreads your legs with his hands, lining himself up with your entrance once more. without warning, he sheathes himself inside you, drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. his pace is relentless, driven by a hunger that seems endless.

"mine," he repeats, like a mantra, with each powerful thrust. "all mine."

— jiaoqiu, PHAINON, IMBIBITOR LUNAE, dr. ratio, ARGENTI

"we're supposed to be competing, but last night i tasted your lips instead of victory."

✧/✧/✧/✧ you’ve been rivals for as long as you can remember, always neck-and-neck in every competition. whether it was training matches, missions, or public challenges, you pushed each other to be better—and tore each other down at the same time. the rivalry was infamous, and neither of you ever let the other forget it.

but underneath the sharp words and glares was something else, something unspoken. every heated argument felt like it teetered on the edge of something more, every accidental brush of hands lingered a little too long. you told yourself it was hatred. it had to be.

last night, though, everything cracked. the competition had been brutal, leaving you both battered and breathless. you’d cornered him, intent on taunting him for nearly losing—and instead, his mouth was on yours. the kiss had been fierce, messy, and desperate, and you hated how much you’d wanted it.

now, you’re back on the field, trying to push the memory away, but the ghost of his lips still lingers.

“we’re supposed to be competing,” you bite out, shoving past him as you pace the edge of the training field, your heart still hammering from last night’s mistake. “but last night…” your voice falters, the memory flashing behind your eyes—the press of his mouth against yours, the way you’d melted before you could stop yourself. “…last night i tasted your lips instead of victory.”

he doesn’t move from where he’s leaning against the wall, arms folded lazily across his chest like he’s completely unbothered. but his eyes—sharp, predatory—follow every step you take.

“and?” he drawls finally, voice low and maddeningly calm.

you whirl on him, heat rising to your cheeks. “and it shouldn’t have happened,” you snap. “we’re rivals, not—”

he pushes off the wall in a single, fluid motion, closing the distance between you before you can finish the sentence. the smirk playing on his lips makes your stomach twist.

“not what?” he murmurs, voice a whisper against your ear as he leans in close. “not allowed to want each other? because if that’s true… we’ve got a problem.”

his fingers brush yours, barely a touch, but it sends a jolt straight through you.

his other hand slides down to rest possessively on your hip, pulling you flush against him. you can feel the heat radiating off his body, the hard planes of his muscles pressing into your softer curves. "all that fire between us… it's not just from our rivalry. deep down, you know exactly what it is."

he leans in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks in a low, seductive rumble. "stop fighting it. stop pretending you don't crave my touch, my taste, the feeling of me buried deep inside you."

his words caught you off guard as you distance yourself from him slightly, giving both you and him barely enough space. "what?! are you crazy?!" you shake your head. "i do NOT want to be associated with you like that!"

“like what?” he smirks, that infuriating curl of his lips making your stomach twist. god, you hated that look. you hated him—every cocky word, every smug glance. and you were certain he felt the same; you were rivals, enemies on the field. so why… why does it suddenly feel like that’s no longer true?

he pushes you closer and you instinctively step back, your shoulder brushing against the doorframe of the gym.

“w-what are you doing?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but it comes out shakier than you’d like.

he doesn’t answer, just keeps moving forward, each step purposeful and unhurried. his presence is overwhelming, his eyes locked on yours as if daring you to run.

your back hits the edge of the door, and his hand comes up to push it open with ease. the door swings inward with a low creak, the quiet echo of the empty gym room swallowing the sound.

the bench was wide enough for both of you, its black, padded surface cool and firm beneath your thighs. the faux leather covering had that faint, distinct scent of gym equipment, slightly slick from the polish they used to clean it. the sturdy matte black steel frame didn’t budge, even as you shifted, the faint creak of the padding the only sound filling the room alongside your ragged breaths.

you try to sidestep him, but he’s already there, blocking the way. his hand presses lightly—yet firmly—at your hip, guiding you backwards, deeper into the dimly lit room.

“stop,” you whisper, but he only tilts his head, that maddening smirk tugging at his lips again as he continues to close the distance between you.

one more step and your back meets the cool wall of the gym, your escape completely cut off. his arm braces beside your head, trapping you there as he leans in, voice dropping low and deliberate.

“now,” he murmurs, eyes glinting, “tell me again how much you hate me.” he crowds into your personal space, one hand braced on the wall beside your head, the other coming up to wrap loosely around your waist. not squeezing, just a light pressure. his body pins you to the wall, all hard muscle and barely restrained power.

"your pulse is racing under my fingertips, princess. betraying your true desires." his voice is a low purr, sending shivers down your spine. "go ahead, say it. tell me you hate me while your body screams otherwise. while your nipples strain against your shirt, begging for my touch. while your thighs clench together, aching to be filled."

he rolls his hips against yours, letting you feel the thick ridge of his erection through the fabric of his pants. "c'monnnn loosen up a little..." he says, his tone light but his closeness anything but.we can't always be enemies forever right?"

you swallow hard, your pulse hammering as his breath brushes your ear. “g-get off me,” you manage, though your voice shakes, betraying you completely. a wicked grin spreads across his face at your words, his eyes gleaming with triumph and dark promise. oh, i don't think so, you don't get to dismiss me that easily."

in a flash, he hooks a leg between yours, using the leverage to grind his thigh against your core. at the same time, his hand slides from your waist to tangle in your hair, tugging your head back sharply. "we're not enemies. we never were." he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks, his hot breath fanning over your skin. "can't you feel it? this electricity between us, this undeniable pull…"

you can’t deny it—it feels good. better than you expected, even if you won’t admit it out loud.

he smirks against your skin, sensing your reluctant enjoyment. his thigh grinds harder against your core, the friction delicious even through the layers of clothing. "that's it, baby. just give in. stop fightin' this feeling." his free hand trails down your side, fingers splaying across your hip possessively. he nips at your earlobe before soothing the sting with his tongue.

"im going to worship this body until you're trembling and begging for my cock. until the only word you remember is my name." he whispers in that damn sultry voice of his. he captures your lips in a searing kiss, all teeth and tongue and pent-up passion. it's dominating, consuming, leaving no doubt about his intentions. "mmmm, you taste even better than i imagined. sweet as honey and twice as addictive."

your breath hitches as his hands trail about, his touch firm yet unbearably slow. every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, but you’re frozen, unable to form the words to stop him. his gaze never leaves yours, watching every flicker of emotion cross your face, the corner of his lips twitching upward.

emboldened by your lack of resistance, his hands begin to roam your curves more boldly. one palm cups and squeezes your breast through your shirt, thumbing your nipple roughly. the other hand slides down to grope your ass, kneading the firm flesh and pulling you harder against his grinding thigh.

"fuck, these tits… i've wanted to get my hands on them for so long." he breaks the kiss to trail his lips down your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. marking you as his. "gonna make you feel so good, gonna ruin you for anyone else." his fingers find the hem of your shirt and slip underneath, caressing the smooth skin of your stomach before sliding higher to fully cup your breast.

he groans appreciatively as his calloused palm envelops your soft breast, relishing the weight of it in his hand. his fingers pluck and roll your nipple, coaxing it into a stiff peak. "mmm, sensitive aren't you? love how responsive this pretty little body is…" he ducks his head, capturing a hardened bud between his teeth through the thin fabric of your bra. he laves it with his tongue, wetting the material and creating delicious friction.

his other hand continues its exploration, dipping teasingly beneath the waistband of your pants to trace the upper swell of your ass. "bet you're getting wet for me already, aren't you baby? i can practically feel the heat radiating from your poor aching pussy."

you let out a breathy moan as his fingers tease my sensitive skin, your head falling back against the wall. "a-ahh…" your voice is needy and shaky, betraying how much you're enjoying his touch despite your "hatred". the pads of his fingers circle your nipple slowly, drawing out the sensation. you gasp softly, back arching slightly to push your breast more fully into his palm. "mmmnh… that feels… ah!"

when his teeth graze your nipple, you can't help but bite your lip to stifle a louder moan. your hips twitch forward involuntarily, seeking more friction. "o—oh god…" you pant, face flushed and eyes half-lidded with growing arousal. "p—please… don't stop…"

he groans deeply as he feels the slick heat of your arousal coating his fingers. your essence clings to his digits as he strokes along your folds, teasing your entrance. "damn, you're soaked. practically dripping for me already." he teases before capturing your lips in another filthy kiss, swallowing your needy whimpers as he works two fingers knuckle deep into your tight channel. curling them just so, he rub against that spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

"that's it baby, let me hear those pretty sounds." he rasps against your mouth, his thumb finding your clit and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with his other hand grips your hip bruisingly, holding you in place as he finger fucks you with deep, purposeful strokes. "gonna make this greedy little cunt mine."

he pumps his fingers faster, plunging them deep into your sopping wet cunt. the obscene sound of your juices squelching fills the air as he finger fucks you hard and fast. "listen to that dirty wet noise, your slutty hole is making such a mess on my hand." you let out an embarrassed whimper, he chuckles softly before bringing his coated fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a groan.

"tastes divine. sweet and musky, like the perfect fucktoy." spitting crudely on your pussy, he rubs the saliva in, making the obscene squelches even louder as he resumes my vigorous pumping. "gonna ruin this pussy. mold it to fit my cock perfectly. all for me." curling his fingers just right, he strokes your g-spot as his thumb mashes against your clit.

for the first time you notice how unsteady his breathing is—how desperately he clings to you as though you’re the only thing keeping him alive. you bite your lip, torn, your body betraying you as shivers roll down your spine. he’s making you feel good—too good—you’ve never felt bad for him before. but now… now you can’t shake the thought that maybe he needs this more than you realized.

"fuck it." you mumble to yourself before reaching down to his pants, rubbing his clothed pent up buldge. "shit." you hear him mutter, "take it off for me," he says this time, louder, clearer just for you to hear. you waste no time in taking his pants off, only to be greeted with a throbbing cock.

he lets out a low groan as your small hand wraps around his throbbing shaft, stroking him with teasing touches. "just like that baby. wrap those fingers around my big, hard cock." his hips buck into your fist, seeking more friction. the tip leaks pre-cum, allowing your hand to glide smoothly along my length. "fuck!! your hand feels incredible. can't wait to feel this tight little pussy strangling me instead." he giggled.

he leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he continues to finger your dripping cunt. the wet, obscene sounds fill the air, mixing with your heavy breathing and muffled moans. "gonna stuff you full of my fat cock and pump you full of cum." god the idea of his fat cock filling you up made your pussy clench tighter.

he smirks against your lips as he feels your walls flutter around my fingers, knowing exactly what effect his words were having on you. "that's right, princess. you want this big dick stretching you out, don't you? want me to split you open on my cock until you're screaming my name." removing his fingers from your dripping cunt, he sucks them clean with a satisfied hum. "not bad, need to taste directly from the source. need to bury my face in this sweet pussy and feast on your nectar."

dropping to his knees, he hooks your legs over his shoulders and drags his tongue through your soaked folds. smiling on your cunt as he feels the way you writhe and shiver at the sudden wet warmth pressed against your sensitive core. he laps at your juices greedily, savouring your flavour. "you taste amazing. could eat this pussy for hours.

he hums on your pussy, lapping at your juices, tongue slipping in between your folds before swirling at your sensitive bud. he lets out a few pops with his mouth before flipping you onto your side with little ease, spooning up behind you. one strong arm wraps around your waist, hauling your hips back against his rock-hard erection. his other hand slips between your thighs, fingers playing with your drenched slit.

"poor baby... look at you, so desperate for my cock." he notches the broad head at your entrance, rubbing it up and down your folds to coat it in your slickness. "beg for it, tell me how badly you need to be stuffed full of my fat dick." leaning in, he nip at your earlobe before letting out an amused hum, "if you want this cock, you'd better start pleading like a good girl."

“f-fuck… i hate you,” you gasp out, your nails digging into his shoulders even as your hips tremble against his hold. “but—god—i want it, i want your cock so bad…”

your voice cracks as the pleasure coils tighter in your stomach, his dominance breaking through every wall you’ve tried to keep up. “please,” you whimper, hating how desperate you sound, “just… just give it to me.”

with a feral grin, he slams his hips forward, driving his thick cock balls deep into your tight, wet heat in one brutal thrust. a deep moan rumbles in his chest at the exquisite sensation of your walls clamping down on me. "fuuuck yes, take it all!" he snarls, immediately setting a punishing pace. each snap of my hips buries him deeper, the obscene slap of skin-on-skin echoing in the gym. his fingers dig into your hip hard enough to bruise as he fucks into you relentlessly.

"this is what you needed, isn’t it? to be used like the desperate little cock sleeve you are." reaching around, he pinches and twist your clit, determined to wring every ounce of pleasure from your quivering body. "come for me."

“ah—fuck!” you cry out, your body arching helplessly into his touch as the heat building inside you finally snaps. “oh god—i’m c-coming!”

your walls clench around him uncontrollably, every wave of pleasure crashing through you harder than the last. “p-please… don’t stop!” you sob, your voice breaking as you fall apart in his hands, hating how much you love it.

as your pussy spasms around his pistoning cock, he lets out a string of curses, his rhythm faltering for a moment before he redoubles his efforts. bending his knees slightly, he angles his hips to nail your g-spot with every thrust, the swollen knot of nerves yielding deliciously under his assault.

"oh fuck, milking my cock so good....!" the wet, filthy sounds of yours coupling fill the air, punctuated by the rhythmic thump of the pylo box shaking from the force of his thrusts. sweat drips down his brow as he fucks into you with single-minded intensity, chasing my own release. "shit, you’re gonna make me bust early at this rate." his balls draw up tight, signaling his impending climax.

“w-wait,” you gasp, clutching at his shoulders as the bench creaks beneath the both of you. your heart pounds, not just from what he’s doing but from the faint sounds echoing in the empty gym. “slow down… someone could hear us.”

he stills for just a moment, his heated breath fanning against your ear. “you’re scared they’ll know you’re letting me ruin you like this?” he whispers, voice low and teasing.

“i’m serious,” you hiss, your face burning as you glance toward the door. “please… j-just be quiet. slow down.” he tilts his head, that dangerous glint in his eyes making your stomach twist, but he obliges—his pace easing, his touch softer. “fine,” he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. “but you’ll have to keep yourself quiet, sweetheart… because i’m not stopping.”

slowing his movements, he presses his lips to your shoulder, dragging them up your neck in a series of biting kisses. his hips roll lazily, stirring up your insides without the previous frenzied pace. every inch of his cock drags against your inner walls, prolonging the delicious friction. his hand slides up your torso to palm your breast, rolling your nipple between my fingers. "wouldn't want anyone walking in on me claiming this sweet little pussy." to emphasize his point, he squeezes your tit almost painfully, pinching your nipple hard.

his thick shaft pulses inside you, the veins running along its length pressing against your sensitive walls with every shallow thrust. the flared head catches on your rim, stretching you wide before sinking back into your depths. droplets of precum leak from the tip, mingling with your copious fluids to create a slick sheen that allows my cock to slide effortlessly in and out of your grasping heat.

your breath stutters as the sound of footsteps drifts closer, every nerve in your body on edge. your instinct screams at you to pull away, to run, but his firm grip on your hips keeps you pinned right where he wants you.

“p-please,” you whisper, barely moving your lips as your body trembles. “we can’t… someone might walk in on us!”

“shhh,” he murmurs in your ear, the warmth of his breath making you shiver. “don’t think about them. think about me.”

just as he's about to come, the door to the gym creaks open. panic flashes through you, your pulse races, and though you know you should be horrified, you can’t ignore the way your body clenches around him at the thought of someone walking in, seeing you like this, but he quickly schools his features into nonchalance. keeping his movements slow and controlled, he continues to rock into you, careful not to make too much noise. "relax. they won't notice anything amiss," he whispers reassuringly, though tension coils in your gut.

his hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he works his cock in and out of your soaked cunt. the threat of discovery only heightens his arousal, the danger adding a forbidden thrill to our illicit tryst. "just focus on keeping quiet and riding my cock. don't let them distract you from coming on my dick."

“god, look at you,” he whispers, a hint of a smirk in his tone. “you like this, don’t you? the idea of someone seeing you fucked wide open on my cock.”

“no,” you gasp, though the weak protest only makes his smirk deepen.

“then why are you squeezing me so tight?” his voice is pure sin now, low and dangerous. “why does it feel like you’re about to come just from the thought of being caught?”

your face burns, the shame and arousal tangling until you don’t know where one ends and the other begins. feeling your pussy clamp down on him, he loses control. with a few more powerful thrusts, he buries myself deep inside you and explode, painting your walls white with thick ropes of cum. a low groan escapes his throat as he fills you up, his hips jerking erratically as he rides out the intense waves of pleasure.

"fuckkkkk, that's it… take every drop." he pants harshly against your neck, continuing to grind into you as he empties myself completely. finally spent, he collapses against your back, his softening cock still nestled snugly within your fluttering sheath. "goddamn, you really know how to milk a guy dry." he chuckles breathlessly, nuzzling your hair affectionately.

after a moment, he carefully pulls out of your tender flesh, watching with satisfaction as his seed trickles out of your well-used hole. he tucks himself away and adjusts hisclothes before helping you do the same, wiping away the evidence of the shared passionate encounter.

“there,” he murmurs, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he gives your ass a sharp, playful smack. “no one would ever guess what a filthy little thing you just were for me.”

his voice drops lower, sending a shiver down your spine. “though, between us… i think i prefer you messy, marked by me.” before you can respond, he pulls you close, claiming your lips in a deep, possessive kiss that leaves you breathless. “so, still 'enemies'?,” he whispers against your mouth, his hand still cupping the back of your neck.

you hesitate, your heart hammering as you meet his piercing gaze. “…i don’t know anymore,” you admit softly, your voice trembling, and his smirk widens just a little.

— anaxa, LUOCHA, SAMPO, WELT, MYDEI

"i'd burn kingdoms for you. say the word."

✧/✧/✧ from a young age, the knight bore a terrible curse—his touch seared flesh, his grip crushed bones, and his presence brought agony to all but one. isolated and feared, he lived in the shadows of kingdoms, a weapon too dangerous to wield freely.

then, one day, he was summoned to the royal court to serve the princess rumoured to be as mysterious as the curse itself. when their eyes met, something shifted—his touch, which had never healed, never soothed, softened on her skin like a gentle flame.

unbeknownst to many, the princess held a rare power, a blessing woven into her bloodline, making her immune to his pain and, more miraculously, capable of taming his curse. together, they walked a perilous path—her protection the only thing keeping him tethered to the world, his loyalty fierce enough to burn kingdoms for her.

but their love, dangerous and forbidden, threatened to ignite a war none were prepared for.

the throne room was cold, shadows stretching long across the polished stone floor. guards stood silent at the edges, but all you could see was him—your cursed knight, the one whose touch brought pain to anyone else, but never to you.

his dark eyes locked onto yours, burning with a fierce intensity that made your heart thunder. “i’d burn kingdoms for you,” he said, voice low and unwavering. “say the word.”

you swallowed hard, mesmerised by the way his hand hovered just inches from your skin—no hesitation, no fear. when his fingers finally brushed against your arm, a warmth blossomed through you, soft and safe.

how could a touch so dangerous hurt everyone else but heal you? the answer was clear, even if the world would never understand: you were a princess, and his curse belonged only to the rest of the world, but love like this was never simple.

the flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows across the chamber walls as he stepped closer, the weight of his presence pressing against you like a storm waiting to break.

his eyes, dark and smoldering, held yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. the cursed knight—feared by all, yet gentle with you—reached out, his fingertips grazing your cheek with a tenderness that belied the fire burning just beneath the surface.

“you’re the only one who can bear my touch,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “and i won’t let anyone else have you.” the air between you thickened, charged with unspoken promises and a hunger that neither could deny any longer. his hands snaked around your waist, the world outside faded until there was only the two of you, caught in the dangerous intimacy of a love that burned brighter than any curse.

"bow." your voice loud and booming with the echo. at your whispered command, his posture shifted, his broad shoulders relaxing as he lowered his head submissively. his hands released their firm hold on your waist, instead resting gently at his sides as if awaiting further instruction.

"as you wish, my princess," he murmured, his voice now soft and obedient. "i am yours to command." he kept his eyes downcast, gazing at the floor between your feet rather than meeting your gaze directly. the proud, dominant aura that usually surrounded him had vanished, replaced by a quiet humility and a willingness to submit to your every whim.

your command hung in the air, a subtle reminder of the power dynamics at play. he stood before you, tall and imposing in his silver armour, yet utterly subservient to your will. the contrast was intoxicating, a heady mix of dominance and submission that left you breathless. "please, my princess," he said, his voice a husky whisper, "tell me how I may serve you tonight."

he remained still, a living statue of obedience, awaiting your guidance. the red cape draped elegantly over his shoulders, a symbol of his devotion and readiness to fulfill whatever desires you might have. "my princess?" his voice was a gentle query, tinged with anticipation. he stood before you, a pillar of strength and servitude, ready to obey your every command.

"what is it you desire of me tonight?" his question hung in the air, a silent plea for guidance as he awaited your instructions with bated breath. the torchlight danced across his features, casting shadows that accentuated the lines of his chiselled jaw and the scar that marred his cheek—battle scars earned in service to your kingdom and your person.

"shall i prepare your bath, my lady? or perhaps attend to your wardrobe for the evening's festivities?" his tone was respectful, almost reverent, as he offered suggestions born of experience and dedication to your comfort and pleasure.

you stepped closer, the soft rustle of your gown the only sound in the dimly lit chamber. your fingers grazed his chest lightly, feeling the powerful beat of his heart beneath the hardened muscle. his breath hitched at the touch, though he kept his gaze lowered in deference.

“no,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. “none of that tonight.”

his head tilted slightly, confusion flickering in his dark eyes as he finally dared to glance up at you. “then… what would you have of me, my princess?” you let your hand trail up the line of his throat, your touch soft but commanding, and leaned in close enough for your lips to brush his ear.

“kneel,” you murmured.

the word struck him like a spell. his shoulders trembled as he obeyed without question, lowering himself until he was at your feet, head bowed, hands resting at his sides in perfect submission. “as you wish, my princess,” he breathed, his voice reverent, the anticipation in his posture undeniable.

you looked down at him on his knees before you, the flickering torchlight making his broad frame seem somehow smaller, almost vulnerable. gods, he was so cute like this. you’d always had a thing for him—the cursed knight who would cut down armies at your command but softened the moment you laid a hand on him.

your lips curved into a slow smile as you reached out, cupping his jaw in your palm and tilting his face up to meet your gaze. his dark eyes were wide and expectant, pupils blown, his breath coming just a little faster now that you were this close. “you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” you whispered, your thumb brushing along the sharp line of his scarred cheek. he nodded instantly, the motion eager and obedient.

“good,” you purred, leaning down just enough that your lips ghosted over his ear. “because i want you to pleasure me… can you do that?”

his breath hitched audibly, and the sound sent a shiver down your spine. “y–yes, my princess,” he stammered, his voice deep and rough with desire. “i… i’ll do whatever you ask.”

you stepped back just slightly, enough to look down at him with a teasing, dominant glint in your eyes. “then show me,” you commanded softly, “just how devoted you really are.”

his strong hands gripped your waist as he guided you to straddle his lap, your skirts spilling over his thighs as he settled back against the velvet cushions of the throne. you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, the hard planes of his body pressed flush against yours. from his position on the throne, he looked up at you with a mixture of reverence and hunger, his breath coming heavier as you shifted on his lap, feeling the heat of him pressed firmly beneath you.

his fingers traced the neckline of your gown, slipping beneath the fabric to caress the warm, supple skin beneath. his touch was electrifying, sending shivers of delight coursing through your body. leaning in, he pressed his lips to the sensitive hollow of your throat, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he nuzzled and kissed his way upward.

"you smell divine, my goddess," he murmured against your flesh, his voice a husky growl of desire. ”every inch of you is pure perfection.” his hands continued their sensual exploration, sliding down to cup the swell of your breasts through the thin material of your gown. he kneaded the soft mounds gently, thumbs circling the pebbled nipples until they strained against the fabric, begging for release.

a breathless moan escaped your lips, your back arching instinctively into his hands as the pleasure rippled through you. you gasp his name, your fingers tangling in his hair for balance as his thumbs brushed your sensitive peaks again.

“y-you’re teasing me,” you whispered, trying to sound reprimanding but failing as another shudder coursed down your spine. the fabric of your gown felt unbearably tight now, your nipples aching against the thin barrier. “do you want me to beg you to bare me?”

your lips curved into a shaky smile as you met his dark, smoldering gaze. “because i just might…”

a low, rumbling chuckle vibrated through his chest at your playful threat, his eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "oh, princess, i'd much prefer to hear you plead for my touch, but if begging is what it takes…" his hands slipped beneath your gown, fingers skimming the heated skin of your thighs as he slowly, deliberately pushed the fabric up.

"let's see if these pretty little tits need freeing from their confines, he teased, his thumbs dipping beneath the lace of your bra to tease the tender buds. ”and maybe we can work our way lower, see if you're hiding any other secrets down there.”

with one trembling hand, he reached for the fastenings of his own garments, divesting himself majority of clothing besides his boxers with agonising slowness. each item fell away to reveal more of his bronzed skin, etched with the lines of hard won strength and bearing the scars of countless battles fought in your service.

his gaze was riveted to your exposed breasts, his eyes darkening with lust as he drank in the sight. his hands hovered uncertainly, as if afraid to touch lest he offend or displease you. yet the longing in his expression was palpable, a raw, aching need to worship and adore you. "may i, my princess?" he asked softly, his voice a hoarse whisper. ”may i touch you here? i promise to be gentle, to cherish and honour every inch of you.”

without waiting for permission, he reached out tentatively, his calloused fingers brushing the undersides of your breasts. the contact sent jolts of pleasure racing through you, and you couldn't suppress a soft gasp. "so soft," he breathed, his touch growing bolder as he explored the curves and valleys of your flesh.

his fingers danced across your nipples, tracing the stiff peaks with a feather-light touch that sent shivers of delight coursing through your body. he watched your reactions intently, gauging your pleasure and adjusting his ministrations accordingly. “do they please you, my princess?” he asked, his voice a husky murmur. “shall i pinch them, roll them between my fingers, or perhaps suckle them gently to bring you more joy?”

he paused, awaiting your guidance, his eyes burning with a desperate, adoring hunger. in this moment, he was your willing slave, existing solely to provide you with ecstasy and satisfaction. you bit your lip, feeling the heat between your thighs grow unbearable, and slowly guided one of his large hands downward, over the soft folds of your gown, until his palm rested between your legs. “pleasure me here too,” you whispered, your voice trembling with authority and need. “can you do that for me..?”

his breath hitched as he nodded fervently, his fingers twitching beneath your guidance as if barely able to contain his desire to obey. you bit your lip and leaned forward slightly, letting one hand drift downward, trailing over the hard planes of his stomach until you reached the unmistakable bulge straining against the fabric. your fingers brushed over the heated outline teasingly, watching the way his breath caught in his throat, his hips jerking subtly beneath you.

“you’re so hard for me,” you whispered, your tone both teasing and commanding as you squeezed him lightly through the fabric. “do you want me to help you too… or should i make you wait while you pleasure me first?” at your words his entire body tensed at your touch, a low groan escaping his lips as your fingers wrapped around his throbbing length through the fabric. his eyes fluttered shut, his brow furrowing in concentration as he struggled to maintain control.

"p-please," he stuttered, his voice ragged with desire. ”don't make me wait. i ache for you, need to feel you wrapped around me, to lose myself inside your warmth.” his cock sprang free, already leaking precum as it bobbed eagerly before you, a testament to his intense arousal. "take me," he begged, his eyes opening to lock onto yours with a desperate, pleading intensity. ”use me however you desire."

your breath caught as his length stood proudly before you, thick and flushed, the bead of precum glistening at the tip like a silent plea. you let your fingers ghost along his shaft, the twitch of his hips making a thrill run down your spine.

“so eager,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing as you guided him to lie back further into the throne. “you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

“y–yes, my princess,” he breathed, his voice shaking with need.

you straddled him again, hovering just above his cock, letting the swollen head brush against your soaked entrance. his breath hitched, his hands gripping the armrests of the throne in a silent show of restraint. “good,” you purred, leaning forward so your lips brushed his ear. “because i’m going to take you… but i’m going to take my time.”

his breath was ragged as his hands slid slowly down your thighs, his touch reverent but desperate. reaching the hem of your gown, he bunched the fabric up around your hips, his fingers trembling as they found the edge of your soaked panties. he hooked a finger beneath the lace and dragged it aside, his knuckles grazing your slick, swollen folds. a soft, helpless sound escaped your lips as the air hit your heated core, and his eyes widened slightly at the sight before him.

a thin string of slick clung from the damp crotch of your panties to your glistening sex, catching the flicker of torchlight. “gods…” he whispered, almost to himself, his voice breaking with awe as his thumb brushed delicately over your entrance. “you’re so wet for me, my princess… so perfect.”

you hummed lewdly, unable to hold back the shameless sound as his movements grew more deliberate, more torturously slow. his strong hands gripped your hips, steadying you as he positioned himself perfectly against your soaked core, his gaze locked on your trembling body.

the air was electric with tension as his cock glided effortlessly through your slick folds, the sound of your wetness echoing through the room like a primal serenade. your thighs trembled, your hips twitching upward to meet each gentle thrust, as if beckoning him deeper. the sight was intoxicating - his shaft, slick with your juices, glistening like polished marble as it slid up and down your glistening folds.

the head of his cock would catch on the swollen nub of your clit, sending shivers coursing through your body, before he'd continue his languid strokes, teasing out your pleasure with every deliberate movement. your fingers dug into the armrests of the throne, the wood creaking softly in protest as you arched your back, your breasts thrusting upward like ripe fruit.

“my princess…” he gasped, the sound broken and reverent, “please—” “quiet,” you whispered, your hips rolling just enough to make him shudder. “you’re mine to use tonight. do you understand?”

“y-yes,” he stammered, though his eyes burned with something deeper than desire—devotion so raw it nearly stole your breath. his hands roved over the plush swells of your breasts, kneading the soft flesh and tweaking the pert nipples into even tighter peaks. his fingers left trails of goosebumps, sending shivers of delight coursing through you.

leaning in, he drew a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bud before giving it a gentle nip. the sensation was electric, and you arched into him, craving more of his touch. meanwhile, his cock continued its leisurely glide along your slick folds, the head bumping insistently against your clit with each pass. the dual stimulation was driving you wild, your body thrumming with need as you ground yourself against him.

a strangled moan slipped from your lips as you clutched at his broad shoulders, your nails digging into the hard muscle beneath. “g-gods,” you gasped, the words trembling as his tongue flicked over your swollen nipple again, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

he hummed lowly in response, the vibrations rumbling through your sensitive flesh as he suckled harder, teeth grazing just enough to make you shudder. your hips rolled instinctively, seeking more friction as his cock continued its languid, teasing glides through your slick folds. each deliberate stroke had the head brushing your clit, making your thighs tremble and your breath catch with every subtle bump.

“you’re driving me mad,” you whispered, voice breaking as your fingers threaded through his hair and tugged, silently begging for more. “please, don’t… don’t tease me like this anymore.” but his lips curved against your breast, his tongue tracing lazy circles around the tender peak as he kept up that torturous pace below. the dual sensations—the wet heat of his mouth and the steady grind of his cock against your dripping sex—left your body quivering, the throne’s velvet cushion damp beneath you as you ground against him with growing desperation.

“patience, my princess,” he murmured around your nipple, his tone dark and velvety. “i want to feel you come undone all over me.” you bit your lower lip, feeling your arousal dribble down your wet streaked thighs. "'m gonna do it now," you breathed as you feel his cock twitch, slightly nudging your dripping cunt.

he nods his head, excited to finally be in you. you lowered yourself slowly onto him, feeling the heat and fullness as your slick folds enveloped his length. and with a low, controlled thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his thick cockhead nudging past your cervix to nestle deep within your fertile womb. a shuddering gasp escaped him at the exquisite sensation of being fully sheathed within your slick heat.

he held still for a long moment, savouring the feeling of your body embracing his, your inner muscles rippling around the invading length of his shaft. then, with a slow, deliberate withdrawal, he slid back until only the tip remained nestled inside you, before pushing forward again, repeating the gentle rhythm. each glide of his cock through your drenched folds elicited a symphony of pleasurable sounds - the squelch of your arousal, the slap of skin, the hitched breaths and whimpers of blissful surrender.

your body instinctively clenched around him, swallowing him deep with a wet, rhythmic squeeze that made his breath hitch. the sensation was electric—tight and warm, wrapping him completely as if you were made to hold him just like this. every movement sent waves of pleasure radiating through both of you, the perfect, intimate connection burning between your bodies.

both of your moans grew louder and more lewd as he continued to slowly, deeply penetrate you, his thick cock stretching and filling you completely with each thrust. the filthy sounds of your coupling filled the room, a symphony of flesh slapping against flesh, accompanied by your wanton cries and his guttural groans of pleasure.

"fuuuuuuck," he gasped, his voice ragged with desire, "your cunt is heaven, so tight and wet around me… i could stay buried inside you forever." his hips picked up speed, driving into you with increasing urgency as he chased his impending climax. the throne remained unmoving beneath your joined weight, lost as you were in the frenzy of your passionate rutting.

you bite your lip, wanting to tell him to slow down, to take his time—but the way he moves, so powerful and unrelenting, makes it impossible.

“please… slow down,” you whisper, voice trembling with need.

his thrusts slowed to a torturous crawl, each inch of his cock dragging sensuously along your inner walls as he savored the exquisite friction. his breath came in ragged pants, "can't…stop," he panted, his voice a hoarse, desperate rasp, "feels too good, too perfect… gonna cum, gonna fill you up!" your body trembles above him as he continues, every thrust a delicious torment you never want to end.

“f-u-u-u-uckkkk!!!” your voice breaks and stretches with every movement, capturing the way your breath hitches as he pushes deeper inside you, feeling his hips slamming into yours with brutal force, his cock pulsating wildly as he spilled his seed deep inside you.

crying out your name, he emptied himself in great, spurting jets, each pulse triggering a ripple of contractions within your clenching walls. "YESSSSS....!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the stone walls as he rode out the crest of his orgasm, lost to the sheer bliss of claiming you so thoroughly. finally, with a shuddering sigh, he collapsed atop you, his spent cock still buried to the hilt as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning your skin.

you place a gentle kiss on his temple, hands pushing yourself up before moving to hold his knees. "i'm gonna keep going yeah? wanna feel you even more," you moan, and with deliberate care, you drag your walls up and down his sensitive cock, the slick heat of your folds tightening deliciously around him. the friction sends a fresh wave of pleasure through both your bodies, making his breath hitch and his fingers twitch where they grip the throne’s carved wood.

his eyes lock onto yours, dark and desperate, as you continue your slow, sensual rhythm—each movement pulling you both deeper into the fire that burns between you.

a soft, desperate moan escaped his lips—high pitched and helpless, senselessly begging for mor as your hands grip the throne’s armrests tighter, nails digging into the wood as his eyes fluttered closed, utterly lost to the pleasure you were giving him. every slick stroke of your walls had him shuddering uncontrollably, completely surrendered beneath your control.

as you began to bounce up and down faster on his still spurting cock, his eyes widened in shock, a high-pitched moan tearing from his throat. he'd never been taken so aggressively, never experienced such unbridled power and dominance from a lover.

"ahhh, yes, fuck!!" he cried out, his voice cracking with pleasure and surprise, "more, please, i need it-ngh...~!" his hands flew to your hips, gripping them tightly as he struggled to maintain some semblance of control, to guide your movements rather than simply being swept away by the torrent of sensation. but it was a losing battle, and soon he was simply clinging to you, his head thrown back in ecstasy as you rode him with wild abandon.

"oh gods, you feel amazing, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-"

you lean in closer, your voice a low, teasing whisper that drips with authority. “that’s it pretty boy,” you murmur, your fingers tightening their grip just enough to send shivers through him. “you want to come for me, don’t you? show me how much you need me.”

your lips brush against his ear as you drag your walls slower, deeper, and more deliberately around him, coaxing every inch of pleasure from his trembling body.

“let go,” you command softly, your breath hot against his skin. “i want to feel you lose control.” his moans grow louder, more frantic, the desperate need in his eyes begging for your permission to release.

“cum for me,” you whisper, voice low and seductive. “come undone in my hands.” at your command, his body seized, his cock jerking violently inside you as a massive orgasm ripped through him. he choked your name, his voice raw and desperate, as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over him.

"cumming, princess, cumming so hard!" he gasped, his hips bucking erratically to meet your downward thrusts. his seed pulsed out in thick, scalding streams, flooding your convulsing channel and painting your inner walls with his essence. feeling his climax, your own breath hitches and your eyes roll back, every nerve alight with a scorching heat. your walls clamp down around him instinctively, pulling him deeper as your own orgasm surges through you in overwhelming sync.

the sensation of your tight, spasming pussy milking his cock was almost too much to bear, and his vision blurred at the edges as he teetered on the brink of blackout. yet still he clung to you, his fingers digging into your flesh as he surrendered to the overwhelming tide of bliss.

as the last waves of pleasure subsided, his chest heaved with exhaustion, his eyes locked on yours with a mixture of awe and adoration. the air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, and the sound of your ragged breathing filled his ears. he felt his heart still racing, his body trembling with the aftershocks of their intense lovemaking. it was as if the entire world had narrowed to a single, shining point—the two of you, lost in the depths of your passion.

as the last tremors of your shared orgasms subsided, he pulled you into a searing, passionate kiss. soft moans escaped both of you, the kiss a perfect storm of need and tenderness as his lips moved hungrily against yours, tasting the salt of your sweat, the sweetness of your breath. he poured all his desire, his adoration, into the heated embrace, his tongue delving deep with yours.

when finally he broke away, his chest heaved, his eyes burning with an insatiable hunger. "one more round, princess?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper, "i don't think i can get enough of you tonight…"

— GEPARD, DAN HENG, luka, gallagher, PHAINON, SUNDAY

"tell me you want it. say it like you mean it."

✧/✧/✧ you had always clashed with him. it didn’t matter if it was in the training arena, behind closed doors during strategy meetings, or even in front of others—you and he simply didn’t see eye to eye. you were both strong-willed, sharp-tongued, and unwilling to back down. and that tension… everyone else noticed it too.

but what no one knew was how that fire between you burned just as hot in private. there were nights when the sharp glares and cutting words gave way to something far more dangerous, far more consuming.

tonight was one of those nights.

you were pressed against the cold stone wall of the barracks, your breath coming in short gasps as his body pinned yours in place. his voice was a low growl in your ear, commanding, unwavering, leaving no room for resistance.

“tell me you want it,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. his hands held your wrists firmly above your head, his strength making it impossible to break free. “say it like you mean it.”

the power thrummed through every word, his dominance demanding not just your body but your admission, your surrender. and despite the way your pride flared, you couldn’t deny how badly you wanted him, how much the fire between you consumed every thought.

your breath hitched as his grip on your wrists tightened, the rough scrape of the wall against your back a sharp reminder of just how trapped you were. your pride burned hot in your chest, urging you to stay silent, to keep even a shred of control over the situation.

but gods… the way he looked at you. his eyes were dark, intense, searing into your very soul as though he could see through every facade you’d ever built. the proximity of his body, the heat radiating off him, only made it harder to keep your resolve from crumbling.

“i–i don’t—” you started, your voice faltering when he suddenly leaned in closer, his lips barely brushing your ear as he whispered again, low and commanding.

“say it like you mean it.”

his free hand trailed slowly down your side, fingers grazing the curve of your hip before resting firmly against your thigh, holding you in place. your entire body trembled with need, but you bit your lip hard, still resisting, even as a traitorous whimper slipped past your lips.

he tilted his head, lips brushing your jaw now. “you’re shaking,” he murmured, voice dark and knowing. “you want me… so why don’t you admit it?” his grip loosens slightly, but he doesn't let go. His other hand moves to cup the back of your neck, tilting your face up so he can look at you properly. the smirk that plays on his lips is slow, deliberate, and full of something dangerously close to satisfaction.

"you're not exactly making this easy," he mutters, his voice lower than usual, almost a growl. "but then again, you never have been." he leans in again, this time pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. there's no pressure, no force—just the weight of his presence, the unspoken challenge between you.

"you think you're the first person to try to play hard to get with me? you're not even close." he steps back just enough to let you breathe, but not escape.

your chest heaves as the sudden space between you feels like a taunt, like he’s daring you to run even though you both know you won’t. your back remains pressed to the wall, the phantom heat of his body still clinging to your skin. his hand remains on the back of your neck, thumb brushing idly along the curve of your jaw in a touch that feels far too intimate for the tension threading between you.

“you’re infuriating,” you manage, though your voice lacks the bite you intended. he chuckles lowly, the sound reverberating through your chest. “maybe. but i’m not wrong,” he murmurs, voice like velvet over steel. “you want me. you’ve always wanted me.”

his forehead presses to yours again, his gaze pinning you in place, holding you as securely as any physical restraint.

“say it,” he whispers, almost softly this time, though the command in his tone is undeniable. “tell me you want me, and i’ll give you everything you’re too scared to ask for.”

your lips part, but the words catch in your throat as his thumb grazes over your lower lip, coaxing, teasing, patient yet utterly unyielding. his eyes flicker down to your parted lips, lingering there for a moment before meeting your gaze again. there's a heat in those dark depths, a promise and a challenge all at once. when he speaks again, his voice is low and rough, sending shivers down your spine.

"i've seen the way you look at me when you think i'm not watching. the flush on your cheeks, how your breath quickens…" his hand slides from your jaw to the side of your neck, feeling your pulse jump beneath his fingertips. "don't deny it. we both know the truth." he whispers closer, his lips a hairsbreadth from yours now. you can feel the warmth of his breath mingling with your own.

"you say you hate me, but your body… it betrays you. it craves my touch, my attention." his hand slides down from your neck to your collarbone, fingers splayed possessively across your racing heart. the heat of his palm seeps through the thin fabric of your shirt, branding your skin. "i can feel how fast your heart is beating," he murmurs, voice a low rumble. "like a caged bird desperate to break free.iIs that what you are, desperate for me?"

his other hand releases your wrist only to trail slowly, teasingly, up your arm, leaving goosebumps on your skin. he leans in, nose skimming along your jaw, inhaling deeply as if savoring your scent. "you drive me mad."

your hands press lightly against his chest, not enough to push him away, just enough to keep the smallest bit of distance between you. you can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms, maddeningly calm compared to your own frantic rhythm.

“i…” the word slips from your lips as barely a whisper, your gaze flicking down, unable to meet his piercing eyes. you should push him away. you should say no. but the heat coiling low in your stomach betrays you, the way your body leans instinctively into his touch, giving you away.

his fingers splay wider against your collarbone, a subtle reminder of his control as he tilts his head to catch your gaze. “look at me,” he murmurs, his voice dark velvet.

you swallow hard, slowly lifting your eyes to his. the intensity in his stare makes your breath hitch, your fingers curling slightly against his chest as though holding on to something solid.

“should i take your silence as a yes?” he teases softly, his lips brushing your temple. “or are you still going to fight me?”

your heart pounds painfully in your chest as you bite your lip, every part of you screaming to resist even as the pull toward him grows stronger. “i… i don’t know,” you finally whisper, voice trembling.

his smirk returns, slow and dangerous, his thumb brushing along your jaw. “then let me show you,” he murmurs, leaning in just close enough for his breath to fan across your lips. “i’ll make you want me so badly you won’t be able to deny it.”

his hand slides from your jaw to tangle in your hair, gripping gently but firmly. he uses the hold to tilt your head back, exposing the column of your throat to his heated gaze. his other hand trails down your side, coming to rest on your hip, where he squeezes lightly, pulling you impossibly closer.

“just… feel,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your pulse point. “if you want me to stop, say the word and i will. but if you want this, little bird… let yourself go. only if you want it too.”

he pauses deliberately, giving you space to pull away, to decide. when you don’t, when instead your body leans subtly closer, he nips lightly at your earlobe before soothing the sting with his tongue, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin.

one of his legs slips between yours, pressing against your core as he grinds subtly against you. "that's it," he purrs, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "stop thinking, stop overthinking. just feel the heat building between us, the way our bodies fit together like they were made for each other."

his hand on your hip slides around to grip your ass, kneading the flesh roughly as he pulls you harder against him. you can feel every hard plane of his body pressed against your softer curves, the evidence of his arousal evident even through their clothes.

"i'm going to worship every inch of you,"

his lips blaze a trail of fire up your neck, pausing to nip and suck at your earlobe. his hand in your hair tugs gently, forcing your head back further to expose more of your throat to his hungry mouth. "gonna taste you everywhere," he growls against your skin, his voice rough with desire. "lick and suck until you're writhing, begging for more."

the hand on your ass slides around to grip your thigh, hoisting your leg up to wrap around his waist. he grinds against you harder, letting you feel the thick ridge of his erection through his pants. "feel that, baby? feel what you do to me?" he pants, his hips rolling in a slow, filthy grind. "i'm so fucking hard for you already. can't wait to bury myself inside your tight little cunt."

you swallow hard, your chest heaving as the heat from his body makes your thoughts swirl. your hands clutch at his shoulders for balance, your voice soft but steady as you whisper, “yes.”

he stills, pulling back just enough to search your face, his dark eyes locked onto yours. “what?” he asks quietly, almost as if he needs to hear it again. your cheeks flush as you take a shaky breath, gathering every ounce of courage to say the words. “i… i want it,” you admit, voice trembling but sure.

a low, pleased growl rumbles in his chest, and the corner of his mouth curls into a sinful smirk. “that’s a good girl,” he murmurs, his hand in your hair loosening to cradle the back of your head with surprising tenderness. “you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to hear you say that.”

he walks backwards towards the bed, keeping you pinned against his chest. with a swift movement, he sits on the edge of the mattress and pulls you down to straddle his lap. his large hands settle on your hips, thumbs rubbing circles on your hipbones as he looks up at you with hooded eyes. his hands skim down your sides, fingers digging into your hips possessively as he grinds his hardness against your core.

"i've wanted this for so long." he groans, his lips finding the shell of your ear. "wanted to bend you over and take you, claim you, make you mine." one hand slides under your shirt, calloused palm skimming over the smooth skin of your stomach before cupping your breast roughly. he thumbs your nipple through the thin lace of your bra, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"gonna ruin you," he promises darkly, nipping at your jaw. "fuck you so good you'll forget your own name." a breathless laugh slips past your lips, though it’s tinged with anticipation. “then you’d better back that up,” you murmur, tilting your chin up in a teasing challenge.

your nails lightly drag over his shoulders as you add, voice soft but daring, “show me just how good you can fuck me… make me forget everything but you.”

"oh, i'll make you feel things you've never felt before." he murmurs against your pulse point. his hands slide up your sides, pushing your shirt up and off in one smooth motion. he tosses it aside carelessly, his dark eyes raking over your exposed skin hungrily. leaning in, he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his tongue darting out to taste your skin.

"beautiful," he rumbles appreciatively, palming your breasts through the thin lace of your bra. "can't wait to get my mouth on these perfect tits."

with deft fingers, he reaches behind you to unclasp your bra, freeing your breasts. he groans at the sight, immediately ducking his head to capture the tender peak of your breast between his lips. he suckles hard, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as his hand kneads the soft flesh of the other breast.

he lavishes attention on your breasts, alternating between firm suckles and gentle licks. his hands roam your back, tracing the dip of your waist and the flare of your hips. he rocks you against his lap, grinding his cloth-covered erection against your core in a delicious friction.

"fuck, the way you move, he groans, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. "so responsive and eager for my touch." he breathes, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your pants, he starts tugging them down, along with your panties. he swiftly strips you completely bare, leaving you naked in his lap.

"gonna explore every inch of you," he promises, his hands mapping the newly exposed skin of your thighs. "and find all the places that make you gasp and moan."

your breath hitched at his words, heat rushing to your cheeks as his hands roamed your bare thighs with slow, deliberate intent. “g-gods…” you whispered, bringing your hands up to cover your face in a flustered attempt to hide how much his words affected you.

he let out a low chuckle, leaning in closer so his breath brushed against your ear. “oh? shy now?” he teased softly, fingers squeezing your thighs just enough to make you squirm. “don’t hide from me… i’m going to explore every inch of you, remember? and i want to see every single expression when i find the spots that make you gasp and moan.”

he lays you back on the bed, hovering over you with a predatory gleam in his eye. slowly, torturously, he peels off his own shirt, revealing the hard planes of his chest and abs. he settles between your thighs, the heat of his body seeping into your skin. starting at your ankle, he begins to map your body with his mouth.

he presses open-mouthed kisses along the inside of your calf, his tongue darting out to taste your skin. he works his way higher, lavishing attention on the sensitive spot behind your knee, the crease of your thigh. as he nears your center, he pauses, his hot breath ghosting over your most intimate area. he looks up at you, dark eyes smoldering with lust.

your breath hitched as his gaze locked onto yours, the intensity in his eyes making your heart race even faster. your hands fisted in the sheets beneath you, toes curling as anticipation coiled tight in your belly. “please…” you whispered, your voice trembling, though you weren’t even sure what you were begging for—only that you needed more of his touch, more of him.

you bit your lip, lifting your hips ever so slightly toward him in silent invitation, your cheeks flushing at your own boldness. “don’t… don’t stop now,” you managed, your voice soft but desperate. “i… i want you.”

"want you too baby," he replies before he knelt on the floor at the foot of the bed, broad shoulders relaxed but his grip on your waist firm as he pulled you down the mattress. the cool sheets bunched beneath you as he dragged you toward the edge, your thighs instinctively parting for him.

“closer,” he murmured, voice low and commanding, hooking his hands behind your knees to pull them over his shoulders. your thighs trembled as he adjusted you exactly where he wanted, your hips now balanced perfectly at the edge of the bed.

he glanced up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, the heat in his stare making your breath catch. one hand slid around to anchor at your hip while the other pressed lightly against your thigh, keeping you open for him.

“that’s it,” he whispered, leaning in until his breath fanned warm over your most sensitive spot. “stay right here for me… i want you just like this.” without warning, he buries his face between your thighs, his tongue delving deep into your dripping folds. he laps at your essence, moaning at the sweet taste of your arousal. his hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he feasts on your pussy like a starving man.

he focuses his attention on your clit, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. at the same time, he thrusts two fingers knuckle deep into your tight channel, pumping them in and out in a relentless rhythm.

he slows his movements, taking his time to savour your taste and reactions. he starts with feather light touches—the barest brush of his tongue along your slit, the gentlest caress of his fingers inside you. he watches your face intently, gauging your responses.

every so often, he darts his tongue out to circle your clit, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp before pulling back. his fingers remain still inside you, curled to hit that special spot but not moving, letting you feel full and stretched. he alternates between these teasing touches and long, slow licks up your entire sex, from entrance to clit and back again. each stroke of his tongue is deliberate, designed to build the tension slowly, maddeningly.

he withdraws his fingers from your dripping cunt, leaving you empty and aching. slowly, teasingly, he brings his thumb to your slick folds, coating it in your juices. he rubs the pad of his thumb in slow, deliberate circles around your clit, applying just enough pressure to make your hips buck involuntarily.

"look at this pretty little pussy," he purrs, his voice a low, dirty rumble. "so wet for me already. practically dripping onto the sheets." he dips his thumb lower, collecting more of your essence before bringing it up to your clit again. this time, he presses down harder, rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub.

"this greedy cunt is begging for my cock, isn't it? throbbing and clenching, desperate to be filled." your fingers twist tightly in the sheets, knuckles turning white as you fight to keep your body still, but it’s useless. a soft, broken moan escapes your lips, your hips jerking helplessly at the relentless circles of his thumb.

“p-please…” you whimper, your voice trembling with need as your thighs instinctively try to close around his hand, only for him to hold you open. your back arches, breasts pressing up toward the ceiling as the pleasure builds unbearably, your slick dripping down onto the sheets just like he said.

“i-it’s too much,” you whisper through a shaky breath, though the way your hips rock against his thumb betrays just how badly you crave it. “i… i need you, please…”

your eyes flutter open, hazy and wet with tears you hadn’t realized had gathered, looking down at him through your lashes. “i’m so empty,” you admit softly, your voice cracking on the words. “please fill me… i can’t take it anymore.”

he continues his assault on your sex, alternating between broad strokes and targeted flicks of his thumb. his other hand slides up your body to cup your breast, kneading the soft flesh and rolling your nipple between his fingers. leaning in, he replaces his thumb with his tongue, lapping at your folds in long, slow licks.

he savours your taste, moaning against your skin as he drinks in your arousal. his hands grip your thighs, spreading you wider as he buries his face deeper between your legs, determined to bring you to the heights of pleasure with nothing but his skilled mouth. he adds a third finger to the mix, stretching you wider as he pumps them in and out at a faster pace. his fingers curl inside you, stroking along your inner walls as he targets that sensitive spot deep within.

at the same time, he enhcnaces his efforts on your clit, flicking the sensitive nub rapidly with the tip of his tongue. the dual stimulation proves overwhelming, and he can feel your walls starting to flutter around his invading digits. he doubles down, sucking your clit into his mouth and humming around it, the vibrations pushing you closer to the edge.

his thumb moved faster now, the slick circles on your clit growing tighter, more deliberate, as he worked you closer to the edge. your breath hitched sharply, each inhale coming quicker than the last, your chest rising and falling in frantic rhythm.

your hips jerked upward to meet the relentless motion, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as the pleasure spiked. “ah—god, please!” you gasped, voice shaking, toes curling against the sheets as you clutched them even tighter.

every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire, the quick, ruthless pace of his touch sending shivers racing through you. your breath quickened to the point of desperation, soft whimpers tumbling from your lips in time with each rapid stroke.

“i—i can’t—” you panted, back arching as the tension coiled tight inside you. “it’s too much… i’m gonna—!” feeling you teetering on the brink, he redoubles his efforts. his fingers piston in and out of your clenching heat at a breakneck pace, curling to hit that magic spot with every thrust. at the same time, he closes his lips around your clit and sucks hard, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves rapidly with the tip of his tongue.

he can sense your impending release, your walls starting to flutter and squeeze around his fingers. determined to push you over the edge, he sinks his teeth into the tender flesh of your inner thigh, marking you as his. the sharp burst of pain mingles with the intense pleasure, catapulting you into ecstasy.

your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pure bliss radiates from your core. he doesn't let up as you come undone, continuing to work you through your intense climax with his mouth and fingers. as the aftershocks start to subside, he slowly eases you down, placing soft kisses along your inner thighs and mound.

"fuck, that was beautiful," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "the way you fall apart for me, so passionate. i could watch you come all day."

he crawls up your body, settling between your spread thighs. the hard length of his erection nestles against your sensitive, still throbbing core. he braces himself above you, dark eyes boring into yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

gently, he reaches beneath your back, sliding his hands under your shoulders to shift your weight as he eases you onto your back fully. with careful, deliberate movements, he positions himself between your legs, his hips aligning with yours.

his hands slide down to cup your cheeks, thumbs tracing slow circles as he leans in closer, lips brushing yours in a heated kiss. the warmth of his body presses down onto yours, the weight both comforting and electrifying.

his hips press forward just enough for the tip of him to tease your entrance, sending a delicious ache curling through you. "ready for me, princess?" he whispers, voice low and thick with need.

your fingers clutch at his shoulders as he begins to slowly, deeply push inside you, the stretch both overwhelming and intoxicating. your breath catches, eyes locking with his as he rubs his angry tip at your clit.

"looks like they're kissing, hm?" he teases right before pausing just at the entrance, his eyes searching yours with gentle concern. “tell me if it hurts, okay? i want this to feel good for you,” he murmurs softly, his voice full of care. slowly, he begins to push inside, inch by careful inch, giving you time to adjust to the stretch.

his hands stay steady on your hips, holding you securely but tenderly, ready to pull back at the slightest sign of discomfort. when you nod, reassuring him you’re okay, he moves a little deeper, always watching your face for any sign you need him to stop. “you’re doing so well,” he breathes against your lips, his voice thick with affection.

once he’s fully inside, he holds still for a moment, letting you feel every inch before starting to move with a steady, commanding rhythm, each thrust drawing a moan from deep within your chest.

he sets a deep, powerful rhythm, his hips snapping against yours with purposeful intent. each thrust fills you completely, the thick length of him stretching you in the most delicious way. he angles his hips to hit that special spot inside you with every stroke, determined to stoke the embers of your pleasure back into a raging inferno.

"shiiiiit, you feel incredible..." he groans, his forehead resting against yours. "so tight, so perfect. like you were made for my cock." one hand slides down to grip your hip, holding you steady as he increases his pace. the other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. he latches onto your pulse point, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin, intent on marking you as his.

"gonna fill this sweet cunt with my cum," your hot sex clenches at his words, the image of his cum painting your walls white got you excited. "fuck—yes! fuck me harder," you beg, the feeling of his painfully big cock sliding in and out of your slippery core.

"fuck you harder what....?" he hums, slowing his pace just to tease you. "fuck me harder..please..." spurred on by your plea, he begins to pound into you with wild abandon. the bed frame slams against the wall with each powerful thrust, the obscene sound mixing with your cries of pleasure. his hips blur with the speed and force of his movements, chasing his own release while determined to bring you to another earth-shattering climax.

"yes, fuck, just like that!" he snarls, sweat beading on his brow from the exertion. "take my cock, princess. milk it with this greedy little pussy like the good girl you are." he changes the angle slightly, somehow managing to go even deeper. the new position allows him to grind against your clit with every thrust, the added stimulation pushing you rapidly towards the edge once more.

his balls slap against your ass with each snap of his hips, the lewd noise only adding to the intensity of the moment. the room fills with the vulgar sounds of skin slapping against skin and your shameless moans. rivulets of sweat trickle down his chest, mingling with the slick evidence of your arousal coating his pistoning cock. the sheets beneath you are soaked and tangled, bearing testament to your shared passion.

"awh, look at the mess we're making," he pants, glancing down at where you're joined. "your pretty little hole is dripping all over my cock, making such a filthy squelch. you love being used like a fucktoy, don't you?" he punctuates his words with particularly brutal thrusts, angling to grind against your g-spot with every stroke.

reaching down, he collects some of the slick coating his shaft and brings his coated fingers to your lips. "taste yourself." you waste no time in taking his fingers in your mouth, head bobbing down as you sucked on his coated fingers with a lewd moan.

"mmmm mm....." his fingers slip past your lips, the musky, slightly salty taste of your combined arousal explodes across your tongue. it's an intense flavour—the essence of your desire mixed with the taste of his skin. the texture is slick and slightly sticky, coating your mouth and leaving a tingling sensation as you swirl your tongue around the digits, cleaning them thoroughly.

the scent is heady and intoxicating, filling your nostrils with the primal aroma of sex. it's a potent reminder of your mutual lust and the depravity of the act you're engaged in. as you suckle and lick, you can feel the heat of his gaze on you, drinking in the erotic sight of you debasing yourself for his pleasure.

he groans at the erotic sight of you suckling his fingers clean, your lips wrapped around the digits as you mimic the act of oral sex. pulling his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, he uses his saliva slick hand to stroke his throbbing cock, smearing your combined fluids along the rigid shaft.

"that's it, get a nice biiiiiig mouthful of our mixed juices. fuck, the things you do to me…" he lines himself up with your entrance once more, the swollen head nudging insistently at your slick folds. "beg for my cum, pretty. let me hear what a desperate little girl you are for me."

your breaths come in ragged gasps, heat pooling deep inside you as desperation takes hold. your voice trembles, barely more than a whisper at first, but gaining strength with every word.

“please… please fuck me harder,” you plead, eyes locked on his with a mixture of need and vulnerability. “i need you—need to feel you fill me up, make me yours.”

your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging in as you arch your back, pressing closer to him. “don’t stop… please, don’t stop.”

the raw urgency in your voice leaves no doubt—you're begging, hungry for every rough moment he’s willing to give. a feral grin spreads across his face at your desperate plea, his eyes flashing with triumph and dark hunger. "that's my good girl," he praises roughly, his voice dripping with sadistic glee.

"begging so nicely for my dick." with no further preamble, he slams into you to the hilt, hilting himself fully inside your welcoming heat. he sets a punishing pace, each thrust jarring your entire body and forcing choked moans from your throat. "this what you wanted, right? to be split open on my fat cock?" his hand wraps around your throat, squeezing lightly as he looms over you, his muscular form caging you in.

capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, he plunders your mouth with his tongue, swallowing your wanton cries. it's a kiss full of hunger, possession, and barely restrained violence. his teeth nip at your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, the coppery taste mingling with the flavour of your shared arousal.

breaking away with a growl, he attacks your neck, biting and sucking harsh marks into the delicate skin. his hips never falter in their relentless rhythm, pounding into you with animalistic fervor. gonna ruin this pussy, he snarls against your throat, his hot breath ghosting over your ear.

"fuck a baby into this fertile womb until it takes." your cheeks flush a deep shade of crimson, a mix of surprise and something undeniably thrilling stirring inside you. your breath catches, heart pounding faster at the weight of his words.

“breed me?” you whisper, voice trembling but curious, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “how more hotter can you get?” you chuckle.

his eyes darken with primal lust at your response, a wicked smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "oh, i'm just getting started, princess," he purrs dangerously, his voice a low, seductive rumble. "by the time i'm done with you, this belly will be swollen with my seed, your tits heavy with milk. you'll always ready and eager for my cock."

to emphasize his point, he reaches down to roughly palm your stomach, as if imagining it rounded with his child. the possessive gesture sends a shiver down your spine, equal parts terrifying and arousing. "i'm going to pump you so full of my cum, you'll be leaking for days. everyone will know who this cunt belongs to."

his thrusts become erratic, driven by the primal urge to claim and breed. the wet, obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh fill the room, punctuated by your high-pitched keens and his guttural grunts. sweat drips down his straining muscles as he chases his release, determined to mark you irrevocably as his.

with a final, brutal snap of his hips, he hilts himself inside you, his thick cock pulsing and twitching as he starts to unload. hot ropes of cum paint your insides, flooding your unprotected womb with his virile seed. it feels like he's pumping a gallon of jizz directly into your core, the sheer volume causing your stomach to swell slightly with the force of his release.

as he continues to fill you with his seed, his eyes gleam with satisfaction, a twisted smile playing on his lips. "feel every drop," he growls, his movements slowing but never stopping. "you're mine now, completely mine." his grip tightens, holding you close as he empties himself into you, the sensation overwhelming and intense.

panting heavily, he collapses onto you, his softening cock still buried deep inside your cum-filled cunt. he peppers your neck and jaw with hot, open mouthed kisses, occasionally grazing his teeth over your pulse point. one large hand splays possessively over your lower abdomen, as if already imagining it round with his child.

he rolls his hips lazily, stirring the thick load of semen inside you and ensuring every drop takes root. the feeling of his potent seed sloshing around in your well used hole sends aftershocks rippling through your body, prolonging your pleasure. "fuck, i can feel it sloshing around in there," he groans appreciatively, giving your stuffed pussy a gentle squeeze.

"such a good little breeder, taking my load so well." he pulls out of you with a wet squelch, a river of pearly white cum immediately beginning to leak from your gaping, twitching hole. with a satisfied grunt, he scoops some of the excess jizz and pushes it back inside you, plugging you up with his fingers.

"don't waste a single drop." he commands huskily, his eyes glinting with dark satisfaction as he watches his seed dribble out around his digits. "keep it all inside this hungry cunt. maybe if you're lucky, it'll take and you'll be carrying my baby soon."

he withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his lips to suck them clean, never breaking eye contact. the obscene display makes it clear that he owns you completely now—body, mind and soul.

he pauses, meeting your eyes with deliberate care. "if you’re okay with this,” he says quietly, voice steady but laced with need. “i want all of you, but only if you’ll give yourself to me.”

when you nod, whispering your consent, he finally slides his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean with a slow, sensual hum—still holding your gaze.

“good,” he breathes, lowering his hand to cradle your face tenderly. “because you’re mine… every part of you. and i’ll treasure that for as long as you let me.”

— GEPARD, JING YUAN, PHAINON, welt, luocha, BOOTHILL, CAELUS, SUNDAY

note: fyi everyone i have been working on this everyday since tuesday for 9 hours daily.

taglist 🏷️:  @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @yuri-is-silly @khoiyyu @daydreaming-paradies @xoxoangelsweets @irantoyouwithoutthinking @sanestlyneyfan @akhiran @elenasstxarr @51kim-dokjas-wife49 @khoiyyu @paradise-dreams

if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..(if you would like to be added to the taglist you can comment, dm me or send an inbox)

blade —

✧ he rarely shows outward emotions, but his hands always find their way to your belly, as if grounding himself in the reality of your shared future.

✧ if you ever feel pain, even if it’s normal pregnancy discomfort, he tenses up immediately, staring at you with worry. “are you okay? do you need something?”

✧ he lets you sleep curled up against him, his body warmth soothing you. even if he doesn’t need rest, he’ll lay beside you, hand on your stomach, eyes half-lidded.

✧ the stellaron hunters tease him for being so soft for you, but he doesn’t care. his priority is you and the baby—nothing else.

✧ buys you those pregnancy pillows, not one, not two, not three, but FIVE of them. why? don't ask why. he just did what he had to do.

✧ blade is both the most terrifying and the softest man you have ever seen during your pregnancy. anyone who so much as glances at you the wrong way gets a death glare so sharp it could cut through steel. he becomes hyper-aware of his surroundings, his protective instincts dialed up to a thousand. but when he's with you? when he's resting his palm on your belly, feeling the faint kicks of your child? he's tender in a way no one else will ever see.

✧ he doesn't speak much, but his actions say everything. he’s not the type to whisper poetic words about his love for you, but when he pulls you into his chest, his calloused fingers brushing through your hair—when he kneels in front of you, pressing the softest kiss to your swollen belly—you know exactly how much he cherishes you.

✧ he has a habit of placing his hand on your belly whenever you're together. it’s instinctual, protective, like he’s always ready to shield both you and your child from harm. even in his sleep, his hand finds its way to your stomach, fingers twitching slightly as if standing guard.

✧ he worries about you, even if he doesn’t always say it outright. you catch him watching you with furrowed brows when you move around too much, his lips pressing into a thin line when he sees you wince. if he had his way, you'd be in bed all day, wrapped up in the safest cocoon possible—but he knows you’re strong, so he holds back. barely.

✧ he is unbelievably gentle when touching you. it’s almost ironic—blade, a man who knows nothing but violence, whose hands are stained with countless battles, touches you like you’re made of the finest glass. every time he cups your face, every time he trails his fingers over your belly, his touch is so, so careful. he would rather die than cause you any harm.

✧ he talks to the baby when he thinks you're asleep. late at night, when the world is silent and you’re curled up against him, he whispers words he could never say when you're awake. “i will protect you.” his voice is barely above a breath, his hand splayed over your belly. “you and your mother. always.”

✧ he makes sure you're eating properly, even if it means forcing you to sit down while he prepares something himself. he doesn’t care if he’s never been much of a cook—he will make sure you're fed and taken care of, even if it means standing in the kitchen for an hour, staring at a recipe with a deep frown.

✧ he pretends not to care about the baby shopping, but he totally does. when you bring him to look at baby clothes, he acts indifferent at first, hands tucked into his coat. but the second he sees a tiny onesie in your favorite color? he picks it up, runs his fingers over the fabric, and mutters something about how “this one looks… acceptable.” (he buys it immediately.)

✧ he doesn't know how to express it, but he's excited to be a father. he never thought he’d have something like this—something soft, something real. he never thought he’d have a future beyond endless battles. but now, with you by his side, carrying a child that is part of both of you, he finally starts to believe in something more.

✧ when the baby is born, he is completely, utterly still. for the first time in his life, blade feels like he has no words. he holds the tiny bundle in his arms, staring down at this little life he helped create, and something deep inside him shifts. when he finally looks at you, eyes glassy with unspoken emotion, he whispers the only thing he can say—“thank you.”

✧ blade is absolutely helpless when it comes to your cravings. you want something specific in the middle of the night? he’s already putting on his coat, ready to hunt it down no matter how absurd it is. he doesn’t even question it anymore. one time, you craved something bizarre—like spicy pickles dipped in chocolate—and he just stared at you for a full ten seconds before silently retrieving the ingredients. when he watched you eat it with a satisfied hum, he muttered, “...i have never feared anything more than i fear your cravings.”

✧ there was one time when he brought you the wrong food, and you almost burst into tears. your craving was very specific—a warm peach bun from a particular vendor—but he accidentally got a different flavor. when he saw your lip tremble, he immediately turned on his heel and went straight back out to find the exact one you wanted. “i will not return until i retrieve it,” he swore, like he was going on some life-or-death mission.

✧ he tries to act like he doesn’t care when you make him try your strange craving combinations, but the second you say, “if you love me, you’ll try it,” he knows he’s lost. cue him begrudgingly taking a bite of something absolutely cursed (like ice cream and soy sauce) while you eagerly watch for his reaction. he chews. he swallows. he slowly looks away and mutters, “i am never doing that again.” (he does it again the next time you ask.)

✧ one time, you craved something so bad that you started getting emotional over it. “blade… what if i never get to eat it again?” you sniffled, burying your face in your hands. panic. absolute panic. he thought this was an actual emergency. he dropped everything he was doing, ready to fight the universe itself if it meant securing your food. when he finally got it and handed it to you, you sighed dreamily, saying, “you’re my hero.” his ears turned a little red after that.

✧ you get unbelievably clingy, and it’s both endearing and confusing to blade. he’ll be standing still, minding his own business, when you just attach yourself to him, draping yourself over his back like a koala. “don’t move,” you mumble. he doesn’t. if anything, he just shifts slightly so that you’re more comfortable.

✧ there was a moment when you dramatically flopped onto the bed, groaning about how your feet hurt. before you could even finish your sentence, blade was already kneeling down, silently massaging your feet. you gasped. “oh my god, you’re actually good at this—” his fingers worked into the sore spots with expert precision. you immediately melted. blade, meanwhile, just continued as if he’d been doing this for centuries. “your body is under strain,” he simply said. “this is the least i can do.”

✧ blade has an uncanny ability to appear whenever you need help. you’re struggling to bend down to grab something? suddenly, he’s there. you’re about to lift something heavier than he deems acceptable? boom, he’s already taking it from you. you once tested this by whispering, “i’m craving something…” and within seconds, he materialized behind you with an unreadable expression, already holding his coat, waiting for instructions.

✧ he does not tolerate anyone making unnecessary comments about your size. one time, a stranger made an offhand remark about how big your belly was, and before you could even react, blade was staring them down with the most chilling gaze imaginable. he didn’t even say a word—just narrowed his eyes ever so slightly—and the person immediately backpedaled.

✧ despite his serious nature, there was one time he made a mistake that neither of you will ever forget. you asked him to fetch your favorite snack, and he misheard you. instead of returning with the correct one, he came back with something completely different. when he handed it to you, looking all serious, you just… stared at it. “blade… what is this.” he frowned. “the food you asked for.” you shook your head.

✧ “no, this is not what i asked for.” a long silence. then, without a word, he simply turned around and walked right back out to get the correct one.

✧ sometimes, he gets so used to catering to you that he forgets he doesn’t need to keep doing it after the baby is born. one time, you got up to get something for yourself, and blade immediately tried to stop you. “sit down,” he said automatically, already moving to do it for you. you had to gently remind him, “blade, i can move now.” he paused. thought about it. then, in a deadpan voice, muttered, “...i don’t like that.”

anaxa —

✧ the man is obsessed with your pregnancy. every single day, he’s marveling at your growing belly, resting his head on it, whispering to the baby.

✧ “can you hear me, little one? your father loves you very, very much~” and then he looks up at you with stars in his eyes. you can’t walk five steps without him offering to carry you.

✧ he’d literally sweep you off your feet in public if you let him. he handmakes baby clothes, paints the nursery with celestial patterns, and makes sure you’re always surrounded by warmth and love.

✧ anaxa is absolutely ecstatic about you carrying his child. he’s a man of passion, and this is the most exciting thing to ever happen in his life. he showers you in affection constantly, hands never far from your belly, and every little change in your pregnancy fascinates him. one day, he catches sight of your growing bump in the mirror, and his golden eyes widen with pure admiration.

✧ “by the aeons, look at you… you’re stunning.” he twirls you around, beaming, like you’re the most divine sight in the universe.

✧ he is obnoxiously protective but in a warm, dramatic way. if you so much as sigh, he’s immediately cupping your face, his gaze filled with concern. “beloved, are you unwell? do you need anything? say the word, and i shall move the stars themselves to bring you comfort.” if you so much as stumble, he is catching you like a hero in a romantic novel, dipping you slightly as if it were a dance.

✧ he goes insane over your cravings. no matter how ridiculous, he takes it as a personal challenge. one time, you craved the most specific fruit from a distant planet, and before you could even consider changing your mind, he was already making arrangements to have it imported. it arrived within hours. you stared at him in disbelief as he proudly presented it. “for you, my beloved, there is no distance too far.”

✧ he gets competitive about taking care of you. he must be the one to do everything. need a foot massage? he’s already doing it. thirsty? your drink is already in your hands. you tried to reach for something on a high shelf once, and he gasped dramatically, lifting you into his arms instead. “such tasks are far beneath you, my dear.” you just wanted a plate.

✧ when the baby kicks for the first time, he is overwhelmed. his hands freeze over your stomach, golden eyes widening in shock. he looks up at you, utterly stunned, before breaking into the most lovesick grin you have ever seen. “they’re strong,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours. “our child is strong.”

✧ he talks to your belly. all the time. and not just little greetings—he has full conversations. he tells your baby about the adventures he’s had, the beautiful places they’ll see, and how lucky they are to have you as their mother. sometimes, when he thinks you’re asleep, he whispers soft promises to them. “you will be loved beyond measure, little one. i swear it upon the stars.”

✧ he spoils you rotten. anything you want, you get. it’s impossible to stop him. the moment you so much as glance at a pretty item, he’s already purchasing it. if you tell him “you don’t have to—” he hushes you with a kiss to your forehead. “nonsense, my love. you deserve the world.”

✧ he gets extremely emotional when you’re in labour. despite his usual confidence, he is on edge, pacing the room, running a hand through his hair, whispering prayers under his breath. the second he hears your baby’s first cry, he collapses into the chair, exhaling a deep breath of relief (like he was the one giving birth.... 😒).

✧ when he finally holds them for the first time, he is speechless. his usual poetic words fail him, and he just stares, eyes glossy with unshed tears, before finally whispering, “you are the greatest gift i have ever received.”

✧ anaxa treats your pregnancy like the most important quest of his life. from the moment he learns you’re expecting, he dives headfirst into research. he devours every article, medical journal, and ancient text on pregnancy, memorizing every detail.

✧ at night, he’s hunched over stacks of datapads, reading about fetal development, prenatal nutrition, and even obscure childbirth traditions across different planets. when you wake up and ask what he’s doing, he simply replies, “studying for the most important role of my existence.”

✧ he takes notes. meticulous, detailed notes. he carries around a small journal where he writes everything—your mood shifts, your cravings, even what time of day the baby kicks the most. it’s filled with observations like “beloved seemed irritated today—possible correlation with lack of midday nap?” and “baby prefers right side of belly—will investigate further.”

✧ one time, you peeked into his notes and found a page titled “top ten ways to make my love comfortable” with a ranked list of his most successful strategies.

✧ he does field research. he doesn’t just rely on books—he goes out and seeks firsthand knowledge. he interviews every mother he can find, from warriors to scholars, recording their experiences and advice with intense focus.

✧ he once stopped an entire group of mothers in the marketplace just to ask, “ladies, if i may—what was the most effective way your partners supported you during pregnancy?” he listened very seriously, nodding at each answer, before thanking them with a deep bow.

✧ he becomes hyper-aware of pregnancy symptoms before you even notice them. you sigh slightly, and before you can say anything, he’s already handing you water because “dehydration can cause fatigue, my dear.”

✧ If you rub your lower back even once, he instantly offers a massage. one time, you mentioned feeling warm, and within seconds, he adjusted the room’s temperature to the optimal degree for pregnant comfort.

✧ no one can escape his lectures. if someone offers you food that’s even slightly questionable for pregnancy, he immediately intervenes, launching into a detailed explanation of why you cannot eat it. “that dish contains an ingredient known to cause nausea in twelve percent of expectant mothers. i simply cannot allow it.”

✧ you once caught him educating a fellow father-to-be about the importance of emotional support during pregnancy. “your partner’s needs must always come first. if she craves something at midnight, you go. no hesitation.”

✧ he gets way too into prenatal bonding. he doesn’t just talk to the baby—he reads stories, sings songs, and even plays music. one day, you walked in on him reciting a dramatic monologue from one of his favorite plays to your belly, gesturing passionately. “and so, my dear child, this is the tale of heroes and honor… may you inherit my love for storytelling.” you couldn’t stop laughing.

✧ when you’re nearing your due date, he prepares a full emergency plan. he has a route mapped out to the medical facility, a list of supplies packed and double-checked, and contingency plans for every possible scenario.

✧ if labor starts unexpectedly, he has multiple escape routes memorized for a quick departure. one time, he even did a practice drill, making sure he could carry you effortlessly if needed. “i must be ready, beloved. i refuse to falter in your moment of need.”

✧ the moment you go into labor, he activates like a man on a mission. his usually playful and dramatic nature is replaced with laser-sharp focus. he’s immediately by your side, holding your hand, guiding you through breathing exercises he memorized. but internally, he is barely holding it together.

✧ the second he hears the baby’s first cry, he lets out a shaky breath, his entire body relaxing. when he finally holds your child, all the stress melts away, and he just gazes at them in awe, whispering, “you were worth every moment.”

phainon

✧ this man treats you like the most precious treasure. If anyone so much as breathes near you the wrong way, he’s glaring at them. every craving? immediately fulfilled.

✧ even if you wake up at 3 am and want the most obscure food, he’ll find a way to get it for you. he’s fascinated by the baby’s movements and constantly asks, “did they kick just now?”

✧ when you can’t sleep, he’ll hold you close and hum soft lullabies, stroking your hair until you drift off in his arms.

✧ phainon is absolutely obsessed with the idea of being a father. from the moment he learns you’re pregnant, he acts like he just won the greatest cosmic jackpot in existence. he picks you up and spins you around before freezing and setting you down gently, apologizing because “right, right, must be careful now.” but he’s grinning ear to ear, already talking about all the things he wants to do with the baby. “do you think they’ll like stargazing? i’ll teach them all about the constellations, and we can name a star after them.”

✧ he immediately starts making preparations. within days, he’s turned an entire room into a nursery, but it’s not just any nursery—it’s a masterpiece. he hand-paints galaxies on the ceiling so the baby will always feel like they’re sleeping under the stars.

✧ he even commissions a custom-built crib that gently rocks like a spaceship in zero gravity. he’s so proud of it, constantly adjusting tiny details to make it perfect. “our little star deserves the best, don’t you think?”

✧ he takes baby-proofing to an extreme. he starts evaluating your entire home with the scrutiny of a scientist studying an uncharted planet. “this corner? too sharp. that table? unstable. this step? a potential hazard.”

✧ you catch him padding furniture, securing every single cabinet, and even installing a soft landing zone in case the baby ever falls. you try to tell him that it’s way too early for this, but he just winks and says, “better to be safe than sorry, starlight.”

✧ cravings are his absolute favourite part of the pregnancy. the moment you mention wanting something, he’s on it. he once woke up at three in the morning to hunt down a very specific dessert you were craving.

✧ when he finally returned, slightly dishevelled but victorious, he proudly presented it to you like he had just returned from a heroic quest. if you ever apologise for asking for something difficult, he just kisses your forehead and says, “there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you and our little one.”

✧ he gets really into talking to the baby. not just casual conversations—full-blown storytelling. he lies with his head on your belly, telling the baby about all the wonders of the universe, all the places they’ll visit, all the things they’ll see.

✧ “you’re gonna love it out here. just wait until you see your first comet—it’s breathtaking.” he also sings lullabies, soft celestial melodies he swears have been passed down in his family. even you find yourself falling asleep to them.

✧ he fusses over you constantly. anytime you so much as sigh, he’s immediately checking in. “are you okay? do you need anything? here, let me get you some water. or a pillow. or—” you have to physically stop him from treating you like a fragile piece of glass.

✧ if you so much as try to lift something heavier than a book, he swoops in immediately. “whoa, whoa, whoa—absolutely not. no heavy lifting for my love. let me handle it.”

✧ despite all his excitement, he does have moments of deep, quiet reflection. sometimes you’ll find him sitting by the nursery, looking up at the painted stars with a soft smile. when you ask what’s on his mind, he just pulls you close and murmurs, “i just… can’t believe this is real. that i get to have this with you.”

✧ his hand will rest on your belly, his thumb tracing slow circles as he whispers, “i promise to be the best father i can be. i swear it.”

✧ when the day finally comes, he is a wreck. for all his usual charm and confidence, the moment you tell him it’s time, he panics. he grabs the hospital bag, then forgets where he put the hospital bag. he tries to call someone but dials the wrong number. you have to physically pull him back to reality.

✧ but once he sees you, really sees you, he takes a deep breath, centers himself, and holds your hand with all the love in the universe. when he hears the baby’s first cry, his eyes fill with tears, and he laughs, breathless, as he whispers, “welcome home, little star.”

✧ phainon is an absolute menace when it comes to public displays of affection, and your pregnancy just makes it ten times worse. he’s already the type to drape himself over you, kiss you whenever he pleases, and hold your hand no matter where you go, but now? now he’s practically glued to you. he’s always resting a hand on your belly, rubbing soothing circles over it, or just holding you close like he’s staking a claim. whenever someone congratulates him on the baby, he just beams and says, “i know, isn’t it wonderful? my starlight is glowing.”

✧ the chrysos heirs do not make things easy for him. the moment they find out you’re pregnant, it’s like they’ve been given free rein to tease him relentlessly. they’re always making comments about how he’s become soft, how he’s acting like an overexcited first-time dad, how he’s basically your personal servant at this point. phainon just waves them off with a smug grin, completely unbothered. “jealous? i would be too if i didn’t have someone as perfect as my starlight carrying my child.” the teasing only gets worse after that.

✧ some of them take it a step further, trying to rile him up by making bets on what kind of father he’ll be. “ten credits says he cries when he holds the baby for the first time.” “twenty says he panics and passes out before the baby even arrives.” phainon just scoffs, but the truth is? he does cry when he holds the baby for the first time, and he almost passes out from the sheer emotional overload. the heirs never let him live it down.

✧ despite their teasing, some of them are actually really invested in your pregnancy. they offer parenting books, advice (some useful, some absolutely ridiculous), and even propose setting up a baby fund to spoil the child the moment they’re born.

✧ phainon, of course, refuses. “i appreciate the thought, but my little one won’t need all that nonsense.” ten minutes later, he’s accepting a tiny celestial-themed onesie from one of the heirs with a soft, “... okay, maybe just this one.”

✧ in public, phainon is the proudest future father to ever exist. he makes sure everyone knows. if you go out together, he’s showing you off like you’re the most precious treasure in the galaxy—which, in his eyes, you are. if someone so much as looks at you the wrong way, he’s immediately on guard, slipping an arm around your waist and fixing them with a look that says don’t even think about it.

✧ he gets so protective when you’re in crowded areas. he insists on keeping a hand on you at all times, whether it’s resting on the small of your back or holding your hand tightly. if someone bumps into you even slightly, his entire demeanor shifts—his usual easygoing attitude replaced by something much sharper. “watch where you’re going,” he says, his voice deceptively calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.

✧ if you ever get tired while walking, he doesn’t even hesitate before picking you up. bridal style, over his shoulder, whatever gets the job done. you try to protest, but he just grins. “what? i can’t have my starlight overexerting themselves. besides, you deserve to be treated like royalty.” people definitely stare, but phainon does not care in the slightest.

✧ you catch him buying so many baby-related things on impulse. he’ll see a tiny pair of star-patterned socks and immediately grab them, muttering “they’re going to look adorable in these.” his collection of baby clothes, plushies, and toys gets so out of hand that you have to physically stop him from buying more.

✧ he gets so smug when people comment on how lucky your child will be to have him as a father. he’ll flash you a knowing grin and say something like, “of course they’re lucky. they have the best parents in the universe.” and then he’ll lean in and murmur against your ear, “but between you and me, they’re going to love you more.”

✧ at the end of the day, despite all the teasing from the heirs, the doting, and the over-the-top protection, phainon is just so deeply in love with you and the life you’re building together.

✧ every time he looks at you, he sees the future he’s always dreamed of. and every time he places a hand on your belly, he’s reminded that his greatest adventure is just beginning.

mydei

✧ overly doting husband award goes to… mydei! he treats you like royalty.

✧ if you ever try to do anything yourself, he’s immediately stopping you. “what do you think you're doing? you are carrying our child. i’ll do everything.”

✧ and he means it. he writes letters to your baby before they’re born, leaving them in a box for them to read one day. you constantly wake up to breakfast in bed, your favourite drinks prepared exactly how you like them, and soft, warm blankets because he wants you as comfy as possible.

✧ mydei is absolutely obsessed with your pregnancy in the best way possible. the moment he finds out, it’s like his entire world shifts—everything he does, everything he thinks about, revolves around you and the little life growing inside you.

✧ he becomes so soft, his usual cold, distant demeanor melting away when he’s with you. whenever he talks about the baby, his voice is filled with nothing but warmth. “our little one is going to be amazing. just like their mother.”

✧ he takes everything about pregnancy very seriously. he practically turns into a scholar overnight, gathering every book, article, and medical journal he can find. he takes meticulous notes, cross-references sources, and even reaches out to professionals—doctors, experienced parents, even midwives.

✧ he even asks random pregnant women and mothers about their experiences, carefully logging every detail. “everyone’s journey is different,” he tells you, eyes filled with determination. “but i need to be prepared for anything.”

✧ his research leads to some very specific routines. he makes sure your diet is perfectly balanced, ensuring you get all the necessary nutrients while still indulging your cravings.

✧ he tracks your hydration levels, sleep patterns, and even stress levels. if he notices you looking tired or overwhelmed, he immediately whisks you away to rest. “no arguments. you need to take care of yourself.”

✧ despite his usually elegant and refined nature, he is so comically weak to your cravings. he will go to the ends of the universe to find whatever it is you’re craving, no matter how difficult or absurd. “you want a very specific fruit that only grows on a planet halfway across the cosmos? give me a moment.” he does not settle for substitutes. if it’s not exactly what you want, he will not rest until he finds it.

✧ he gets extremely protective in public. he’s already the type to keep an eye on his surroundings, but now? he’s on high alert. he positions himself between you and any potential danger, shields you from crowds, and death-glares anyone who so much as bumps into you. he carries extra layers if it gets cold, makes sure you’re never overexerting yourself, and always finds the safest routes when walking anywhere.

✧ if anyone even dares to make an inappropriate comment about your pregnancy—whether it’s about your body changing or unsolicited parenting advice—his entire demeanor darkens. his polite mask drops, and his voice turns icy as he calmly but mercilessly shuts them down. “your opinion was neither needed nor wanted. kindly leave before i lose my patience.”

✧ pda with him becomes softer, sweeter, and more frequent. he was always a little reserved when it came to public affection, but now? he doesn’t care who’s watching.

✧ he kisses your forehead absentmindedly, holds your hand everywhere, and often keeps an arm around your waist, rubbing gentle circles over your belly. when he talks to people, his hand naturally rests on your stomach as if it’s second nature.

✧ at night, he always falls asleep with a hand on your belly. he whispers to the baby, telling them stories, making quiet promises. “i’ll keep you and your mother safe. always.” his fingers trace light patterns against your skin, his voice laced with adoration. if the baby kicks, his eyes light up with wonder, a rare, unguarded smile stretching across his lips. “already so strong.”

✧ he takes nesting very seriously. he personally oversees the nursery, ensuring everything is perfect. the colors, the furniture, even the atmosphere—he carefully selects everything with precision and care. he tests the crib himself, sits in the rocking chair to make sure it’s comfortable, and painstakingly arranges and rearranges decorations until he’s satisfied. if something isn’t up to his standards, it’s gone. “only the best for our child.”

✧ the moment the baby arrives, all the walls he’s ever had completely crumble. he holds them with the gentlest touch, his eyes brimming with emotions he can’t even put into words.

✧ he presses the softest kiss to their forehead, whispering their name like it’s something sacred. he looks at you, exhausted yet radiant, and for the first time in his life, he feels truly complete.

✧ mydei insists on accompanying you every single time you go shopping for maternity wear. at first, you think he’s just being his usual meticulous, overprotective self, but then you realise—he genuinely enjoys it.

✧ he treats it like an event, carefully selecting pieces he thinks will be both comfortable and stylish for you. he has impeccable taste, so he always picks out the most flattering outfits, running his hands over the fabrics with a thoughtful hum before handing them to you. “this one will look beautiful on you. try it on.”

✧ the moment you start feeling insecure about your belly, he notices. you run your fingers over the curve of your stomach, frowning slightly at how different your body feels, how nothing fits the way it used to. the way you sigh while looking at yourself in the mirror doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

✧ he steps behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. his hands slide over the curve of your belly, holding you close.

✧ “why do you look so troubled, my love?” his voice is so smooth, low, and filled with warmth. when you mutter about how different your body feels, how you don’t feel as attractive, he simply tilts his head, his lips brushing against your ear.

✧ “you look breathtaking. absolutely divine.” he turns you around gently, his fingers lightly tracing patterns against your stomach. “do you even realise how incredible you are? you’re carrying our child, our future. there is nothing more beautiful than that.”

✧ his reassurance does not stop there. if anything, it becomes a little suggestive. his lips trail down to your neck, placing slow, deliberate kisses as his hands roam your sides. “this body, this belly, this softness... all of it is perfect. you are perfect.” his voice is velvety, filled with unfiltered adoration, and when you let out a small, embarrassed laugh, he just smiles against your skin.

✧ “you don’t believe me?” he whispers, his hands sliding lower before resting firmly on your hips. “perhaps I should show you just how irresistible you are to me.”

✧ you swat at his chest, flustered beyond belief, telling him you’re in the middle of a clothing store, but he only chuckles, tilting your chin up so you meet his gaze. “fine, fine. I’ll behave… for now.” but the way he lingers, the way his eyes darken just a little, tells you that he’s far from done.

✧ even after leaving the store, his hands never stop touching you—tracing over your belly absentmindedly, rubbing soothing circles over your back, occasionally squeezing your hips just to see you flustered. whenever you wear the clothes he picked out, he cannot take his eyes off you.

✧ if you ask him why he’s staring, he simply smirks. “admiring my wife. is that a crime?” he pauses before leaning in, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmurs, “though, I must say, I quite enjoy seeing you without these clothes, too.”

aventurine

✧ he acts nonchalant (well not really...), but deep down? he’s besotted with you and the baby. he boasts about you to everyone at the family, showing off the sonograms like they’re a rare jackpot he won at a casino.

✧ every time you walk into the room, his eyes immediately land on you. “and how is my favourite future mother doing today?”

✧ if you’re feeling down, he spoils you like crazy, showering you with gifts and trips to the fanciest places just to see you smile.

✧ aventurine treats you like absolute royalty the moment he finds out you’re pregnant. not that he didn’t already spoil you before, but now? it’s on a completely different level. you barely have to lift a finger—he’s already taking care of everything before you even think about needing it.

✧ he immediately starts building a nursery, and by "building," he means designing the most extravagant, high-end, luxurious baby room money can buy.

✧ he spares no expense—custom furniture, premium-quality baby clothes, plush toys imported from different planets, the softest blankets in existence, a crib that probably costs more than a spaceship, you name it. everything is top-tier, only the best for his child.

✧ he goes overboard with baby shopping. you tell him the baby isn’t even here yet, and he just smirks, unbothered. “better to be prepared, sweetheart. besides, it’s fun.” he buys every cute outfit he sees, from tiny formal suits to cozy little onesies, and don’t even get him started on toys. he buys so many that you swear your baby won’t even get to play with half of them.

✧ food? taken care of. cravings? immediately satisfied. he has chefs on standby ready to make whatever you want, whenever you want it. at 2 am, when you wake up craving something obscure, you hesitate to wake him, but the moment he stirs and hears you shifting in bed, he insists. “tell me what you want, love. i’ll get it for you right now.”

✧ and if it’s something rare or hard to find? he pulls strings, makes calls, and by some miracle, has it in front of you within the hour. if that’s not possible, he personally goes out to find it himself. no complaints, no hesitation. he does it happily.

✧ he is obsessed with making sure you’re comfortable. if he catches you shifting around, trying to find a better position, he’s already fluffing your pillows, adjusting your seat, anything to make sure you’re perfectly cozy.

✧ he arranges regular massages for you, has the softest, most luxurious blankets at your disposal, and if he catches you even looking slightly uncomfortable, he fixes it before you can even say a word.

✧ the way he dotes on you is almost comical. he won’t even let you walk too much without insisting you rest. “why strain yourself when I can carry you, hm?” and if you protest? he smirks, effortlessly sweeping you off your feet anyway.

✧ he loves talking to your belly. at first, it’s just quiet murmurs when he thinks you’re asleep, soft reassurances and promises. but then? he gets dramatic. “you better take after your mother. if you inherit my gambling habits, we’re going to have a problem.” he fully has conversations with your unborn child, completely shameless, and honestly? it’s adorable.

✧ he lives for your flustered reactions. if you ever feel insecure about your body changing, he makes sure you never doubt how beautiful you are. “look at you,” he purrs, eyes gleaming as he trails his fingers over your belly.

✧ “glowing. divine. absolutely stunning. you have no idea how breathtaking you are, do you?” and when you get all shy? he just chuckles, pleased. “should I remind you some more?”

✧ the second you complain about your feet being sore, aventurine doesn’t hesitate—he immediately takes off his shoes, swapping them with yours. it’s a comical sight, especially when you see his ridiculously expensive, immaculate shoes paired with your cozy, worn-out sneakers. you can’t help but laugh, but he just smiles, so proud of his solution. “there, that’s better, right?”

✧ he then proceeds to buy you an entire new wardrobe of sneakers—comfort over style, he insists. no more heels unless you want them. “you don’t need to suffer in those when we can make you look just as good in something more comfortable,” he says, his voice serious, as he orders half a dozen pairs of different styles, colours, and designs of the softest sneakers imaginable.

✧ he doesn’t even flinch when the bill comes in, just waves it off like it’s nothing.

✧ lord your man is sexy.

✧ of course, if you really want to wear heels for an occasion, he’ll never stop you. “you look stunning in heels, my love. wear them for as long as you like,” he says, but he always makes sure there’s a soft, padded seat nearby for when you need to rest, and he’ll literally help you change your shoes afterward.

✧ now, when it comes to mood swings, aventurine is the ultimate calm presence. he knows it’s just one of those things, so he simply adjusts to whatever mood you’re in. when you get irritated, frustrated, or upset, he’s there with a soft, unwavering smile, letting you vent as much as you need to.

✧ if you snap at him, he’s not offended at all. in fact, he’s almost amused by it, seeing it as just another aspect of your beauty—your passion, your fire. “feel free to let it all out, darling,” he says, taking your hand, his grip steady and soothing. “I’m right here. whatever you need, I’m here for you.” he doesn’t try to calm you down immediately, because he knows it’s important for you to express yourself.

✧ after you’ve finished ranting, he checks in with you again, his voice soft and considerate. “are you okay now? did yelling at me help?” he asks with genuine care, his smile patient and gentle, never judging. if you’re still upset, he’ll simply hold you and let you settle into his arms, letting you know that whatever mood you’re in, he’s not going anywhere.

✧ nothing rattles him. no matter how dramatic your mood swings get, he handles it with endless patience, making sure you feel safe and loved through every moment. if you start to feel guilty afterwards, he’ll just smile and say, “you have every right to feel how you feel. nothing to apologise for.”

boothill

✧ rough cowboy, soft husband. he insists on carrying you everywhere.

✧ walking is not an option for you, his pregnant wife.

✧ calls you “darlin’”

✧ speaks so softly when talking to the baby, completely in awe that you’re carrying his kid. he always has a protective hand on your back, guiding you gently.

✧ if anyone stares too long, his hand moves to his holster. (you have to smack his hand and scold him)

✧ when you can’t sleep, he sits beside you and talks about life on the frontier, his deep voice lulling you into peaceful dreams.

✧ boothill’s love for you is overwhelming, and yet, at times, you can’t help but notice a slight weight behind his affection. when he spoils you, it’s not out of simple joy—it’s out of a deep need to make sure you’re always okay, that you’re always happy, and it’s almost like he’s afraid you’ll slip away from him if he doesn’t try hard enough.

✧ he goes all out with everything—buying the best things, preparing the most extravagant meals, filling the house with comforts, and making sure you never have to lift a finger. he does it all with a quiet, unshakable intensity, like if he’s not constantly doing something for you, he’ll fail somehow.

✧ his attention is unrelenting. if you so much as sigh, he’s immediately there, asking if you’re feeling okay, if you need anything, if you’re comfortable. and while you know it’s all out of love, sometimes you wonder if it’s a little too much.

✧ there’s an unspoken tension that lingers in his actions—an underlying anxiety that if he doesn’t care for you in every way, you’ll somehow slip from his grasp.

✧ when you become pregnant, that tension only intensifies. suddenly, he’s not just worried about you—he’s anxious about the baby, too. the world around him seems to sharpen, and he starts doting on you even more, almost to the point where it feels like he’s smothering you. but his love isn’t suffocating—it’s desperate.

✧ in the quiet moments, when he watches you sleep or rubs his hand over your belly, there’s a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—a quiet fear. he’s afraid, deep down, of losing you, or the baby, or both.

✧ he hates the thought of you being in any kind of discomfort. when you tell him about the aching in your back or the soreness in your feet, he acts immediately, as if your pain is his fault. it’s as if he believes that if he doesn’t fix it right away, something terrible will happen.

✧ he’s obsessive in his need to make everything perfect for you, and even though you appreciate it, sometimes you wish he would just let you be. let you have some space to breathe, to exist on your own terms.

✧ in moments when the weight of it all gets to him, he retreats a little—his jaw tightens, his eyes harden. when he’s alone with his thoughts, you can see the flicker of self-doubt, a slight crack in his usually confident demeanour. he knows that his fear is something he needs to deal with, but it feels so out of control that it’s hard for him to admit it. he doesn’t want to show you his vulnerability, doesn’t want to burden you with his insecurities.

✧ but you see it in the way he holds you at night, the tightness in his arms, the way he checks on you repeatedly, his hands brushing over your body as if he’s trying to make sure you’re all still there. and when you ask him what’s wrong, he’s quick to mask it, brushing it off with a grin, but you know. you can always tell. the angst isn’t loud or overt—it’s hidden beneath his gestures, his actions, his love.

✧ still, his devotion to you is undeniable. even though he has his own silent battles, even though there’s a constant flicker of fear within him, he loves you with every ounce of his being. the moments when he’s vulnerable with you are rare, but when they come, he holds you closer, as if afraid of letting go for even a second.

✧ you can feel the fragility in his touch, the quiet fear that you might slip away from him.

✧ he doesn’t always have the words to express what he’s feeling, but his actions speak louder than anything. and in the silence, when he looks at you, you know. you know that despite all of his worries and fears, he will always protect you, even if he has to keep some of that pain hidden in the quiet corners of his heart.

✧ when the sun is a little too bright for you, boothill doesn’t hesitate. he’s quick to take off his hat and place it gently on your head, adjusting it with a playful smile. “there, now you can enjoy the sunshine without turning into a tomato,” he says, chuckling at how cute you look in his oversized hat.

✧ if the sun is especially brutal, he’ll even suggest you both find some shade or just spend time indoors with the air conditioning, but he knows it’s about making you feel comfortable, not just avoiding the heat.

✧ if you’re feeling particularly tired, he doesn’t wait for you to ask. the moment he sees you yawn or slump a little, he’s already sweeping you off your feet, giving you a piggyback ride with the kind of enthusiasm that’s almost comical considering his usual serious demeanour. “i’ve got you,” he says, grinning widely, despite his usual stoic nature.

✧ if you’re too tired for a piggyback ride or just don’t feel like walking, he’ll immediately scoop you up in his arms. it’s as if you’re his most precious treasure, and he wants nothing more than to ensure your comfort at all times.

✧ “you know, if you just need to be carried all day, I’m perfectly fine with that,” he teases, and you can see the gleam of amusement in his eyes. he loves it when he gets to take care of you, and he’s never shy about showing it.

✧ sometimes, when you’re nestled in his arms, you’ll catch him quietly grinning to himself, probably at how happy he is just to be with you. you can tell it makes him feel lighthearted to see you enjoy these little moments of care.

✧ when he does these little things for you, it’s clear that he’s not doing them out of obligation, but because it genuinely brings him joy to see you happy, even in the smallest ways.

✧ girl do NOT get me started on "oh i'm too big for you" you are NEVER too big 😒 😒 matter of fact if boothill ever hear those words slip out of your mouth you best believe he won't be tolerating it (and hunting down whoever said that)

✧ if you ever tell boothill that you’re too big for him to carry, he won’t hesitate for a second to shut you down. “don’t even start,” he’ll warn you with a smirk, and before you can protest further, he leans down and presses a quick kiss to your lips, leaving you momentarily breathless.

✧ before you can even process what just happened, he’s already lifting you into his arms, effortlessly cradling you like you’re the lightest thing in the world. “see? not too big at all,” he says with a playful grin, clearly enjoying how flustered you get when he carries you, no questions asked.

✧ despite your attempts to argue, he’s not hearing any of it. “I’m carrying you whether you like it or not,” he adds with a wink, and when you roll your eyes or try to squirm out of his grasp, he just holds you tighter.

✧ his love for you is so overwhelming that he doesn’t care if you’re tired, big, or anything else—if you need to be carried, he’s more than happy to do it, and nothing will stop him from showing you just how much he cares.

✧ honestly, seeing you trying to act tough or insisting you’re fine just makes him more determined to spoil you even more, and he won’t back down until he’s made you comfortable.

cthe look on your face when you realize you’re in his arms is priceless, and he can't help but tease you a little more, enjoying every moment of your adorably flustered reaction.

dr. ratio

✧ he’s cocky as always, but so in love. if anyone dares to say anything about your size, he smirks and goes, “they’re carrying the most important person in the universe. of course, they’re radiant.”

✧ he’s fascinated by the baby’s development and reads every medical book on pregnancy, making sure you get the best care possible.

✧ he massages your feet with so much care, just pure, devoted attention.

✧ if you ever feel insecure, he immediately shuts it down with the most poetic, heartfelt words. “there is no beauty greater than you right now, my love.”

✧ dr. ratio is a caring but incredibly meticulous partner, and when you’re pregnant, that side of him intensifies even more. he’s deeply invested in making sure everything is perfect for you, often researching new ways to ease your discomfort, asking you how you feel every few hours, and keeping track of your health and well-being like he’s running a scientific experiment.

✧ his medical knowledge, which is already impressive, becomes even more focused on pregnancy, and he treats every small change in your body like vital data.

✧ he always has a plan, and that plan often revolves around making sure you’re as comfortable and well taken care of as possible. if you mention even the slightest symptom or discomfort, he’s already reading through notes or pulling out his tablet to find solutions. while it can feel like being under constant observation, you can’t help but appreciate how much he genuinely cares about making sure you’re healthy and happy.

✧ when it comes to cravings, he’s often a step ahead. if you mention wanting a specific snack, he already knows where to get it, and if it’s something unusual or rare, he’s willing to go to great lengths to satisfy it. he finds it endearing, but you can also see his scientific curiosity come into play as he observes how your body reacts to certain cravings or foods.

✧ at this point you're convinced he's some sort of magical being.

✧ in moments of stress or discomfort, he’s your rock. he has a calming presence, always knowing just what to say to put you at ease. if you’re feeling overwhelmed by the changes your body is going through or the looming responsibilities of parenthood, he’ll gently remind you that you don’t have to do this alone. his reassuring words have a way of grounding you, and the love he shows through his actions makes you feel like everything will be okay.

✧ his gestures of affection are quieter but deeply meaningful. he’s not as overt with PDA as others might be, but when you’re not looking, you’ll catch him gently rubbing your back or offering you a hand when you need to stand. when you’re tired, he insists on carrying your things or opening doors for you, always thinking about the little things that make your day easier.

✧ even in moments of humour, dr. ratio’s playful side comes through. if you’re grumpy because of a pregnancy-related mood swing, he might joke about the scientific nature of your hormonal fluctuations, but it’s all in good fun and meant to make you laugh.

✧ he knows exactly when to lighten the mood with a well-timed quip, which helps take the edge off when things feel heavy.

✧ though he’s not as expressive with physical affection as others might be, his love is shown in the constant attention he gives you and the thoughtfulness behind every action. when you’re feeling down, he’s there with a cup of tea, a warm blanket, and a comforting smile.

✧ dr. ratio also gets very protective when it comes to your health. if you’ve been overdoing it, he’ll gently scold you, reminding you that you need to take care of yourself. when he catches you ignoring his advice, he might get a little frustrated, but he’s quick to calm down, making sure to reassure you that he’s just concerned for both you and the baby.

✧ you can always feel the intensity of his care, and while it might feel a bit overbearing at times, you know it comes from a place of deep love.

✧ when it comes to the baby, he’s already making plans for the future, trying to ensure everything will be in place. he’ll bring up practical things like cribs, baby monitors, and even names, all while jotting down notes.

✧ he’s already mentally preparing for the next phase of your life together, and though it might seem like he's focusing on the logistics, it’s clear that he’s doing it all because he wants to make sure your little family is as secure and happy as possible.

✧dr. ratio’s care for you and your pregnancy is absolute, while his approach might seem a bit clinical at times, it’s easy to see that everything he does is out of love, ensuring both you and the baby are taken care of in every way.

✧ dr. ratio’s students are surprisingly invested in your pregnancy, much to his exasperation. at first, he tries to keep things professional, but it’s impossible when they bombard him with questions. “sir, is it true your wife’s craving the weirdest foods? can she still beat you in an argument with pregnancy hormones? is the baby gonna be as smart as you?!” the sheer enthusiasm wears him down, and despite his usual cool demeanor, he eventually (and very reluctantly) brings you along one day to satisfy their curiosity.

✧ the moment you step into the room, his students light up like it’s their favorite lecture of the year. they’re practically buzzing with excitement, treating you like an honored guest. some of them even bring small gifts—cute little trinkets, baby books, and even a stuffed animal or two—much to ratio’s dismay.

✧ he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose, but there’s a slight twitch at the corner of his lips, betraying the fondness he has for them (not that he’ll ever admit it).

✧ and of course, the moment everyone settles down, they start betting on the baby’s gender. someone pulls out a makeshift betting board with tally marks, arguments breaking out as they debate whether you’re carrying a boy or a girl.

✧ “based on my calculations, professor ratio will absolutely have a daughter—” “nah, the baby’s definitely gonna be a mini him.” you’re laughing at the chaos while ratio sighs dramatically, muttering about the intellectual downfall of his students.

✧ what really makes you melt, though, is how gentle and considerate his students are toward you. they ask how you’re feeling, if you need anything, if you have any weird cravings (which, of course, leads to them trying to outdo each other with the weirdest food combinations to test your reaction). ratio, meanwhile, is standing beside you with his arms crossed, watching his classroom turn into a circus with a half-annoyed, half-amused look.

✧ “if you all put this much effort into your studies, perhaps your grades wouldn’t be so pitiful,” he finally deadpans, earning groans and protests from the students.

✧ but despite his sarcastic remarks and eye-rolls, he’s oddly protective over the whole situation. if any of the students even joke about you overexerting yourself or getting too tired, he shuts them down immediately. “don’t encourage bad habits,” he scolds. “she needs to be resting.” and then he’s ushering you to sit down, subtly adjusting a pillow behind your back like the doting husband he is.

✧ he pretends to be indifferent, but when he catches one of his students quietly mentioning how cute you two are together, he doesn’t correct them. if anything, he just glances at you, and for a brief moment, the smallest, softest smile crosses his lips before he composes himself again.

✧ when you finally leave, he huffs as if he’s endured the most exhausting day of his life, but the way he holds your hand just a little tighter tells you otherwise. despite all his grumbling, he secretly doesn’t mind how much his students adore you, and maybe—just maybe—he even enjoys it.

✧ DON'T POINT IT OUT THOUGH

✧ dr. ratio will never outright admit it, but deep down, he doesn’t care whether the baby is a boy or a girl. all that truly matters to him is that the baby is healthy and, if he’s being honest, hopefully inherits some intelligence.

✧ “no child of mine will be foolish,” he says with a smirk. Still, the underlying meaning is clear—he wants the baby to thrive, to have every opportunity to succeed. He’s already mentally drafting an entire syllabus on how to make that happen.

✧ however, if he had to pick something personal, something that isn’t dictated by logic or science, he’d want the baby to look like you. he won’t outright say it, but there are little moments where it slips out.

✧ like when he’s absentmindedly staring at you with a thoughtful expression, then mutters under his breath, “it would be preferable if they took after you.” when you catch him saying it and ask what he means, he simply waves it off with a “don’t worry about it.”

✧ the truth is, he thinks you’re beautiful, and the idea of a child with your features makes something warm settle in his chest. he pictures small hands, bright eyes, a little face that mirrors yours—and the thought alone is enough to make him pause.

✧ when he sees you asleep, one hand resting on your stomach, he wonders if the baby will have your smile, your expressions, your way of looking at the world.

✧ and maybe the idea of a mini-you running around makes his heart clench in a way he isn’t quite ready to admit.

gepard

✧ overprotective knight mode: ACTIVATED. he refuses to let you do anything remotely strenuous.

✧ literally the type of pick you up effortlessly and throw you (gently) on his shoulder when he sees you doing something you shouldn't be doing.

✧ he wakes up early to make sure you have everything you need—food, comfort, warmth. you’re never lacking anything.

✧ every night, he reads to your belly, his deep, soothing voice telling fairy tales as if he’s already preparing your baby to sleep peacefully.

✧ you catch him practising how to hold a baby with stuffed animals, and he gets so flustered when you tease him about it. (oml you're gonna overload him with kisses at this point!!!)

✧ gepard tries—he really, really tries—to be there for you as much as possible, but being a knight, let alone the captain of the silvermane guards, means he’s constantly being pulled away for duty. he feels horrible about it.

✧ every time he has to leave you alone at home, every time he misses one of your check-ups, every time he’s not there to comfort you when you’re feeling exhausted, it gnaws at him. he’ll come home late, tired and covered in the dust of another long patrol, only to see you already asleep, curled up in bed with your hands resting on your belly. it makes his heart ache.

✧ he tries to make up for it whenever he can. he’ll bring home small gifts—a bouquet of your favorite flowers, a dessert from that bakery you love, anything to make you smile. when he does have a free moment, he dedicates it all to you, making sure you’re comfortable, massaging your sore feet, listening intently to you talk about your day because he wants to be involved in every way he can.

✧ “i’m sorry i haven’t been around much,” he murmurs against your hair one night, voice heavy with guilt. “i should be here with you more.”

✧ and you understand—you always have. you know his duty to belobog is important, that he’s responsible for so many people. so you reassure him, tell him it’s okay, that you’re not upset because you know he’s doing his best. but no matter how much you insist, he still feels guilty, still thinks he should be doing more.

✧ it’s sweet, really, how much he wants to be present, but you wish he’d stop beating himself up over something he can’t control.

✧ sometimes, though, frustration does creep in—not at him, but at the sheer unfairness of it all. one particularly bad day, when you’re feeling extra emotional, you storm into the silvermane guards' headquarters, demanding to speak to the general.

✧ the poor guards are stunned, unsure how to handle their captain’s very pregnant wife glaring daggers at them. when you finally get an audience with the general, you don’t hold back. “my husband is working himself to the bone while i’m carrying his child, and you can’t even spare him a little time off?!”

✧ the general tries to placate you, explaining that gepard is needed, but you cross your arms, huffing, “well, i need him too.”

✧ word of your little outburst spreads quickly, and when gepard hears about it, he’s equal parts embarrassed and touched. “you... actually scolded the general?” he asks, eyes wide. when you nod, still grumpy about it, he lets out a chuckle before pulling you into his arms.

✧ “i appreciate it, but you don’t have to fight my battles for me.” but you just pout, mumbling, “if they won’t give you a break, then i will.”

✧ and despite everything, despite the exhaustion and the never-ending duty, gepard swears to himself that no matter how busy he gets, he’ll always find a way to be there for you and your child. because at the end of the day, you’re the most important thing in his world.

✧ despite his constant guilt, gepard does everything in his power to make things easier for you when he is around. he wakes up extra early to prepare breakfast before heading out for duty, making sure to leave little notes beside your plate if he has to leave before you wake up.

✧ “good morning, my love. make sure to eat well today, and don’t forget to drink plenty of water. i’ll be home as soon as i can.” sometimes, he even sneaks in a silly doodle of a chubby little knight standing guard over a tiny baby, which never fails to make you smile.

✧ when he finally does have time off, he dedicates every second to you. he follows you around like a loyal knight, carrying anything remotely heavy before you can even try to lift it.

✧ he’s constantly fluffing your pillows, adjusting your blanket, and making sure you’re not overexerting yourself. if you so much as sigh, he’s immediately asking, “are you okay? do you need anything?” you start to joke that having him home is almost more exhausting than when he’s away because he fusses over you like a mother hen.

✧ sometimes, the exhaustion from work catches up to him, and you find him nodding off while sitting beside you, his head drooping onto your shoulder. you know he should be resting, but there’s something endearing about how he fights off sleep just so he can be near you.

✧ “gepard, go to bed,” you whisper, brushing a hand through his hair. he grumbles something incoherent before shifting to hold you close, murmuring, “just a little longer…” and really, how can you say no to that?

✧ his fellow silvermane guards are incredibly supportive, though they also love teasing him about how smitten he is. “captain, you should see yourself when you talk about your wife. it’s like watching a lovesick puppy,” they joke, and while he tries to maintain his usual composure, the tips of his ears turn red every single time. but he doesn’t deny it—he is completely and utterly devoted to you.

✧ if he ever gets called in for an emergency while he’s finally spending time with you, he gets so frustrated. “i just got home,” he mutters under his breath, clearly torn between duty and being with you.

✧ you give him a small smile, placing your hands on his cheeks and gently pressing a kiss to his forehead. “it’s okay, love. go, do what you need to do. i’ll be right here when you get back.” and he sighs, pressing his forehead against yours before reluctantly heading out.

✧ but the moment he returns, he makes up for it tenfold. he brings back your favourite snacks, runs a warm bath for you, and massages your feet until you’re practically melting into the couch. and when you’re in bed, he places a hand on your belly, speaking softly to the baby as if making up for lost time.

✧ “i’ll be around more soon, i promise,” he murmurs, his voice filled with love and determination.

✧ and no matter how much his duty calls him away, you know one thing for certain—gepard will always come home to you.

✧ serval is your biggest supporter and, quite frankly, your partner-in-crime when it comes to dealing with gepard’s overwhelming guilt. she checks in on you constantly—not just for you, but because she knows her brother would want her to.

✧ “if gepard had it his way, he’d probably never leave your side,” she jokes, plopping down next to you and handing you some of your favorite snacks. “but since he’s stuck being captain serious all the time, you’ve got me.”

✧ she’s a lifesaver when gepard is too busy with work, stopping by with homemade meals, comfortable clothes, and the occasional silly gift to make you smile.

✧ she even offers to help you with stretches and light exercises, claiming that a rockstar like her knows all about keeping the body in top condition. sometimes, she’ll strum a gentle melody on her guitar while chatting with you, creating a warm and relaxing atmosphere that makes the time pass a little easier.

✧ and of course, she’s the first to tease gepard whenever he finally has time to come home. “wow, look who finally decided to show up! i was starting to think you’d abandoned your poor wife.” she grins as gepard groans, running a hand through his hair.

✧ “i didn’t—i was just busy—” but serval only laughs, nudging him toward you. “relax, i’m just messing with you. now go dote on your wife before she decides i’m her favorite landau instead.”

✧ she’s also not afraid to scold him when he’s being too hard on himself. “gepard, you’re doing the best you can,” she tells him one evening when he’s sitting on the couch, guilt heavy in his expression. “she understands, you know? stop acting like you’re failing when you’re clearly not.” and though gepard still struggles with his guilt, serval’s words always stick with him, reminding him that he’s doing enough.

✧ but perhaps the funniest part of all is how she sometimes acts as an undercover spy, gathering intel on your moods and cravings to report back to gepard.

✧ “hey, just so you know, she’s been craving those honey pastries from that bakery again. if you don’t bring some home tomorrow, you might be sleeping on the couch,” she whispers conspiratorially to him one night, and gepard immediately makes a mental note to buy them on his next break.

✧ at the end of the day, serval is always there—not just for you, but for gepard, too. she makes sure both of you are taken care of, keeping an eye on her little brother when he gets too caught up in his responsibilities and making sure you never feel lonely. and when the baby finally arrives, you already know serval is going to be the coolest aunt in all of belobog.

sunday

✧ he’s the most excited husband ever. every day, he’s kissing your belly, murmuring sweet promises to your unborn child.

✧ he calls you “sunshine” even more, saying you’re literally glowing with life.

✧ if you so much as sigh tiredly, he immediately rushes over, rubbing your shoulders and making sure you’re comfortable.

✧ he’s already planning family outings, even though the baby isn’t born yet. “oh, i can’t wait to take them to see the stars. you think they’ll like astronomy?”

✧ "honey i think they'll just be obsessed with your cute fluffy wings like me!!"

✧ but lets be real...sunday is, without a doubt, the most dramatic and doting husband in existence. from the moment you wake up to the second you go to sleep, he is right there, acting as if you are the most delicate, precious treasure in the entire universe.

✧ “ah, my love, are you comfortable? do you need anything? shall i fetch you the moon? pluck the stars from the sky?” you’re used to his flowery words, but pregnancy has made him even more extra, if that was even possible.

✧ he spoils you absolutely rotten. he treats you like royalty, making sure every possible luxury is at your fingertips. you so much as glance at something while out shopping? it's already paid for. your back aches? he's on his knees, massaging you with a level of devotion that could make poets weep. the moment you sigh even a little, he's dramatically lamenting,

✧ “alas, this cruel world dares to bring discomfort to my beloved! how dare it!” you roll your eyes, but the way he kisses your hands so reverently makes your heart flutter every time.

✧ when you’re out together, he is practically glued to your side, one arm always wrapped protectively around you. if it’s too sunny, his coat is suddenly draped over your head to shield you.

✧ if you so much as stumble, he’s catching you before you can even process it, scolding the ground for daring to trip you. he doesn’t care who’s watching—his priority is you, always.

✧ sometimes, his dramatics get absolutely ridiculous. one time, you had a small craving for a very specific dish from a very specific place, and before you could even tell him it wasn’t a big deal, he was already on a mission. “fear not, my love! i shall return with your heart’s desire!” he declared, disappearing into the night like some kind of hero embarking on an epic quest.

✧ when he finally returned, victorious, with the food in hand, he dramatically collapsed into your lap. “it was a perilous journey… but for you, I would traverse the ends of the world.” you simply kissed his forehead and enjoyed your meal.

✧ he is obsessed with talking to your belly. no matter where you are, no matter who’s around, he kneels down, placing his hands gently on your stomach and whispering sweet nothings to your unborn child.

✧ “ah, little one, do you hear me? it is i, your devoted father, who eagerly awaits your arrival.” if he feels a kick, he gasps like he just witnessed a divine miracle, his eyes practically sparkling. “they kicked! they love me, my love!”

✧ sunday does everything in his power to make sure you never feel lonely, even when he’s busy. he writes letters to you if he has to be away, each one filled with poetic declarations of love and exaggerated longing, as if he’s been separated from you for years rather than a few hours. when he finally returns, he rushes to embrace you like a man starved, spinning you carefully in his arms (if you let him).

✧ and when he thinks you’re asleep, he gazes at you with so much adoration it’s almost overwhelming. he runs his fingers gently through your hair, his voice soft as he murmurs, “you and our child… my greatest treasures. i will cherish you both for all eternity.” even in slumber, you can feel his warmth, his love wrapping around you like a promise—one that you know he’ll keep forever.

✧ sunday has always been a man of grand gestures, poetic words, and boundless devotion—but this, this is his dream made real. to love and to be loved, to have a family with you, to witness the very embodiment of your love growing within you… it is almost too perfect, too beautiful. sometimes, when he watches you rest, his hand gently cradling your belly, he wonders if he is merely lost in a dream.

✧ he never thought he would find something—someone—that truly anchored him. he always spoke of eternity, of the stars and the endless sky, but nothing in the cosmos compares to you. and now, with your child on the way, that love has expanded into something even greater, something he didn’t know was possible.

✧ late at night, when the world is quiet and you’re curled up against him, he traces slow circles over your stomach and whispers, “this is my dream… and you’ve made it come true.” his voice is softer than usual, lacking its usual theatrics, filled only with raw, unfiltered love. and even though you’re half-asleep, you squeeze his hand in response, as if to say, i know. me too.

✧ sunday absolutely refuses to leave you unguarded when he’s away for business or handling matters of the reverie. even though you insist it’s unnecessary, that you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, he simply will not take the risk. the moment he steps away, you have a team of skilled agents discreetly watching over you. “indulge me, my love,” he pleads with that charming smile of his. “i would never forgive myself if anything were to happen to you or our precious little one.” and really, how can you argue with that?

✧ when he returns, however, it’s as if he’s been deprived of air itself. the second he sees you, he sweeps you into his arms, pressing lingering kisses to your temple, your hands, your stomach—anywhere he can reach. “ah, my beloved, i have been lost without you,” he murmurs dramatically, holding you as if you might disappear. and though you roll your eyes at his theatrics, you let him cling, because you know he truly means it.

✧ public appearances with sunday are nothing short of dazzling. he insists that the two of you look absolutely impeccable whenever you step out together—not because of status, but because he sees you as his perfect match, his divine counterpart. “you always look breathtaking,” he muses, adjusting your accessories with delicate fingers. “i must simply strive to be worthy of standing beside you.”

✧ when you’re out together, he is attached to your side, his arm securely around your waist, hip to hip, refusing to let an inch of space come between you. he whispers sweet things in your ear, makes you laugh with his endless romantic declarations, and shoots sharp glares at anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way.

✧ if the sun is too bright, his coat is draped over your shoulders in an instant. literally the definition of "is the sun bothering you, queen?"

✧ iykyk

✧ if the crowd gets overwhelming, he subtly maneuvers you to a quieter space, all while keeping his usual suave demeanor. if you even look the slightest bit tired, he’s already preparing to whisk you away somewhere more comfortable.

✧ and when the night finally winds down and it’s just the two of you again, he presses a kiss to your hand and murmurs, “no matter where we go, no matter who is watching… my love for you remains the most magnificent thing in this world.”

✧ sunday takes so much pride in being your husband that it’s almost ridiculous. the way he says "my wife" is always so smooth, so deliberate, like he’s showing off a rare treasure. even in the most casual conversations, he will find a way to bring you up.

✧ “ah, yes, that reminds me of something my wife said the other day—brilliant, truly.”

✧ “oh, you need advice? well, my wife is an expert in these matters, allow me to consult her.”

✧ even when it’s unnecessary, he finds a way to slip it in. someone asks him how his day is going? “Better now that I’ve spoken to my wife.” A meeting about logistics? “Oh, my wife would find this terribly boring, but let me humor you all.”

✧ it gets to the point where even his closest advisors and subordinates are just nodding along, fully expecting him to mention you in every conversation. you overheard one of them sigh, “yes, yes, we know your wife is the most wonderful being in existence, my lord.” sunday only grinned and said, “it’s good that you understand.”

✧ and of course, he boasts about you endlessly. your intelligence, your beauty, your kindness—every little thing about you is worthy of praise in his eyes. “have i mentioned how radiant my wife looks today? oh, but she always does, so I suppose that goes without saying.”

✧ sometimes, he’ll purposely say it just to fluster you. if you’re walking together and he spots someone eyeing you for too long, he’ll lean in, voice full of smug adoration, “ah, my wife, the most stunning woman in the room. it’s only natural they’d stare, but truly, they stand no chance.”

✧ even when you roll your eyes or playfully smack his arm, he just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “what can I say? I’m simply a man who adores his wife.”

✧ the second you even mention a craving, sunday is already making arrangements to have it delivered to you. it doesn’t matter how strange, complicated, or impossible it seems—he will find a way.

✧ “you want watermelon dipped in honey at three in the morning? say no more, my love.” within minutes, he’s either personally retrieving it or sending someone out on an urgent mission.

✧ once, you offhandedly mumbled, “i kinda want ice cream… but with pickles.” sunday, ever the devoted husband, merely nodded and said, “consider it done.” you expected him to hesitate or at least question your taste buds, but instead, he had it in front of you within the hour, presented on a fancy plate as if it were some gourmet dish.

✧ he has absolutely no shame in going out himself to fetch your cravings. the sight of sunday, regal and refined, walking into a market and asking for the most bizarre food combinations with a perfectly serious face is something to behold.

✧ one time, a vendor tried to stifle a laugh when he requested “mango slices with chili powder and a side of marshmallows” and he just smirked, “ah, you must not be married. love requires dedication, my friend.”

✧ if your cravings happen while you’re out in public, he wastes zero time in getting it. you once sighed, “i really want those fried dumplings from that one place…” and before you could even finish your sentence, sunday was already steering you toward the restaurant, ordering extra just in case you wanted more later.

✧ on the rare occasion that something isn’t immediately available, sunday turns it into an entire event. “so, my beloved desires an elusive dish? very well. give me a moment.” cue him charming his way into exclusive restaurants, pulling strings with high-profile chefs, or even attempting to make it himself (which… well, let’s just say his skills lie outside the kitchen).

✧ no matter what, he refuses to let you go without the things you crave. “nothing is too extravagant for my wife,” he insists. “if she wants it, she shall have it.”

sampo

✧ sampo is the type to absolutely spoil you when you're craving something, even if it's something a little... unusual. he loves seeing you happy, and the thought of you having that big smile on your face when you get what you want? priceless.

✧ the minute you mention a craving, he's already brainstorming how to get it, and he won't take no for an answer. if it's something he doesn't have access to, well... prepare for a wild goose chase. he'll sweet-talk vendors, bribe people, or pull off the most ridiculous stunts just to get his hands on that weird combination of foods you’re desperate for.

✧ one time, you casually mentioned wanting a mix of sweet and salty—like peanut butter on pretzels with chocolate chips—and the next thing you knew, he had a whole banquet of different combinations lined up. there were different dips, chocolates, chips, nuts, and a few other things he thought you might like. it’s over-the-top, but it’s his way of making sure you feel cared for and, well, indulged.

✧ sometimes he’ll get the most outlandish things, especially if he finds out you want something quirky. “you want... a spicy banana with a side of vanilla ice cream?” he'd ask, grinning mischievously, clearly excited for the challenge. even if he finds it a little odd, he's all in for making sure your cravings are satisfied.

✧ when you're pregnant, sampo loves the idea of you being pampered and treated like royalty. he buys you all sorts of snacks, drinks, and little comforts to make sure you're always content. when he's busy, he'll bring you a stash of your favorite treats or send someone to deliver it, ensuring you never go without.

✧ though he's a bit playful and mischievous, when it comes to your cravings, he’s incredibly attentive. if you need him to grab something in the middle of the night, he’ll pull on his jacket without a second thought and head out, even if it’s something bizarre like kimchi-flavored cupcakes or a weirdly specific kind of sushi.

✧ sampo is honestly obsessed with making sure you’re taken care of, especially when it comes to cravings. as soon as you mention something—even if it’s just in passing—he’s on it. like, the minute the words leave your mouth, he’s already thinking of how he’s going to get it for you.

✧ one time, you half-jokingly mentioned wanting pineapple pizza with extra olives, and sampo didn’t even hesitate. you thought he was just humoring you at first, but nope, by the time you blinked, he was on his way out the door, calling a bunch of places to find one that would make that monstrosity of a pizza.

✧ he’s ridiculously resourceful, so if the craving is something that seems impossible, he’s more than willing to go to extreme lengths. you want blueberry-flavored potato chips? he’s already calling his contacts in different cities or bartering for them. at one point, you had a small shipment of weird snacks from different parts of the world just for you. it was honestly a lot, but the joy it brought you made it all worth it for him.

✧ despite his usually carefree, mischievous attitude, when it comes to satisfying your cravings, sampo becomes the most serious person. nothing else matters—nothing. it’s almost like a personal mission for him.

✧ and don’t get him started on your late-night cravings. there was one instance where you groggily mentioned wanting chocolate-covered pretzels with marshmallow fluff and coconut water (a combo you swore sounded amazing) at 2 AM. most people would groan at this, but not sampo. he simply flashed you a grin, grabbed his jacket, and was out the door, whispering, “leave it to me, darling. i’ll have it before you know it.”

✧ when he comes back, it’s always with a dramatic flair. whether it’s him showing up with a big bag of snacks or an entire custom-made meal just for you, he’ll present it like it’s the most important thing in the world. “look what i’ve brought you, my love,” he’ll say, “your cravings are my top priority.”

✧ he loves watching you enjoy whatever it is you’re craving. he’s that guy who will sit beside you, watching you devour your food, completely delighted. when you make a happy sound after taking a bite, he’ll do a little victory dance in his head. “it’s always worth it,” he’ll think, watching you savor the food.

✧ sometimes, when he’s really feeling it, he’ll even surprise you with a whole set of snacks or meals. if you mention anything at all—whether it’s flavored milk or a certain kind of fruit—you better believe sampo will get it, and he’ll make it fun.

✧ and don’t even get started on the weird cravings. when you randomly crave something odd like caviar and ice cream, he’ll be the one to ask, “is that really what you want?” but then, of course, he’ll follow through and go out and find it, all while making jokes about how only you could crave something so bizarre. “but you’re worth it, darling,” he’ll say with a wink, even if he thinks it's totally ridiculous.

✧ when you’re pregnant, sampo gets extra excited. there’s something about the idea of making sure you’re always happy and comfortable that makes him go all-in on the care and attention. you mention wanting a certain kind of food? he’s already planning his next move to make sure it gets to you—whether it’s food from a restaurant, a local shop, or a weird internet order.

✧ the best part? he’s not even embarrassed about the effort. he’s proud of it. he’ll happily boast about how he’s the one who got you exactly what you wanted, often bragging about how efficient he is at taking care of you. “no one does it like i do, darling.”

✧ sampo loves to live life on the edge, and that often leads him into all sorts of trouble. whether it’s a cheeky scheme gone wrong or him getting caught up in some questionable business deals, he’s not exactly a stranger to trouble. but when you scold him—especially with that concerned look on your face—it hits him harder than anything else.

✧ you’re his weakness, and the thought of his reckless actions affecting your baby’s future stings. when you point out how he’s putting the family in danger, he can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. you’ve got that motherly tone, and even though he’s used to being the troublemaker, something about you scolding him like that makes him pause.

✧ sampo never expected to feel this way. before, he was all about living in the moment, but now, with you carrying his child, things are different. he realizes that his impulsiveness can affect more than just him—it could affect your life, the baby’s life, and even the future you two are building. it’s a huge wake-up call for him.

✧ though he tries to laugh it off and shrug off your scolding, he can’t deny that it bothers him. he wants to be the best for you, to provide and protect, but sometimes his overconfidence and mischievous nature put him in situations he shouldn’t be in.

✧ after you scold him, he’s quiet for a while, just processing everything you said. he doesn’t like seeing you upset, and he definitely doesn’t like the idea of his actions potentially affecting the baby. so he really takes it to heart.

✧ eventually, he’ll come to you, genuinely apologizing. it’s not like him to be serious about these things, but the thought of his baby’s future shifts something in him. he’ll say something like, “you’re right. i can’t keep being reckless. i’ll tone it down, i promise. for you... and for the little one.”

✧ from then on, you’ll notice a shift. he’ll still be his playful, mischievous self, but there’s a little less of the risk-taking, and a bit more thought behind his actions. sampo may not be perfect, but he really wants to be better for the sake of his growing family.

✧ even though he might still slip up occasionally—because it’s just who he is—he tries harder, always making sure to check in with you and reassess how his choices could impact you both. and when you see him being more cautious, you can’t help but smile, knowing he’s trying his best.

✧ and of course, he’ll make it up to you in the sweetest way possible: with more gifts, more little surprises, and tons of affection. he might be reckless sometimes, but when it comes to you and your baby, he knows he has to change, even if it takes a bit of effort.

moze

✧ moze, being the quiet and secretive type, is surprisingly very attentive when it comes to your cravings. he’s not the type to joke around about it or make a big deal, but rest assured, he listens intently and takes note of every single thing you say.

✧ the second you mention a craving, even if it's something a little weird, he silently goes into action. if he doesn’t have it on hand, he will immediately find a way to acquire it, no matter how obscure or hard to find it is.

✧ when you crave something specific, he won’t make a show of it, but he will go out of his way to make sure you get it—whether it’s a rare ingredient or a dish from a different part of the world, moze finds it without fail. if you want a specific kind of fruit, he’ll find the best one, even if it means going to multiple stores or making a special trip somewhere.

✧ he enjoys seeing the soft smile on your face when you get what you’ve been wanting, and while he may not say much about it, there's this quiet satisfaction in his eyes.

✧ moze is also keenly aware of when you’re craving something. sometimes, he picks up on your hints without you even saying anything, noticing a small change in your mood, or when you absentmindedly mention wanting a snack, he’ll be right there to offer it to you.

✧ although he’s a man of few words, there’s a certain gentleness to the way he cares for you. when you’re restless and craving something comforting, he’ll get it, set it down beside you, and quietly say, “this should help.” he’ll never ask for recognition, but the satisfaction he gets from seeing you happy is more than enough for him.

✧ when it comes to very odd cravings, he’ll just give you a knowing look, grab his coat, and leave to get it—sometimes even with a hint of a chuckle, as if he secretly finds your requests amusing. but in his heart, he enjoys making you happy more than anything else.

✧ moze’s stealth skills are incredible. he’s so good at sneaking up on you that it’s become almost a reflex for him to appear out of nowhere, especially when he’s busy with his work. but when you’re pregnant and a little more sensitive, the sudden pop-up can be a bit much. he doesn’t mean to scare you—he really doesn’t—but sometimes, he forgets just how silent he is. ✧ the first time it happens, you let out a startled gasp, and moze immediately freezes, guilt washing over him. he’s used to appearing out of thin air and being the silent observer, but the thought of scaring you, especially with the baby on the way, sends a pang of worry through his chest. ✧ his usual nonchalant demeanor falters. "i'm sorry," he says, his voice almost too soft, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. "i didn’t mean to startle you." there’s something in his tone that sounds almost apologetic, more so than usual. ✧ you laugh it off, brushing it off as an accident, but moze is still visibly uneasy. later, when he’s alone, he keeps thinking about it—wondering if his unexpected entrances could potentially stress you out or, worse, harm the baby. he’s never been particularly affectionate in the traditional sense, but with you pregnant, he’s suddenly a lot more aware of everything. ✧ after that, every time he needs to come in or check on you, he makes it a point to announce his presence. it’s not like moze to do that—he’s always preferred moving in the shadows—but for you and the baby, he decides it’s best to make his approach a little less jarring. ✧ when you’re just relaxing, maybe reading or resting, you’ll hear him say something like, “it’s me, moze. i’m here.” he’ll even knock on the door sometimes before entering, something he’s never done before. it’s funny at first, but also endearing to see him adjust his behavior for you. ✧ moze starts being extra cautious, constantly checking on you but in a much gentler, less intrusive way. the last thing he wants is for you to feel uneasy because of him. he’ll still show up in his usual manner—quiet, reserved, but now with the added softness of his voice when he speaks to you. ✧ when you ask him if he’s okay, he’ll quietly admit that he’s worried about scaring you again, and maybe even causing some harm to the baby. you can see the genuine concern in his eyes, something he rarely lets slip. it’s strange for him to care this much, but when you’re carrying his child, his protective instincts are starting to kick in. ✧ when you reassure him, telling him that you’re okay, he seems to relax a little. but don’t be surprised if you catch him giving you a small smile in his usual quiet way, his fingers lightly brushing against yours in a rare display of affection. it’s subtle, but for moze, it’s a huge step forward.

✧ and the next time he appears out of nowhere? he’ll make sure to be extra careful, just to make sure you don’t get a shock again. it might not be his usual way of doing things, but with you, he’s willing to change—even in the smallest ways.

✧ moze's protectiveness reaches a whole new level once he finds out you’re pregnant. while he’s always been a careful and observant person, this new development has him acting in ways he never expected. the thought of you and his child growing inside you ignites a fierce, almost primal instinct to keep both of you safe at all costs.

✧ he becomes hyper-aware of your surroundings, always analyzing every situation to ensure there’s no danger nearby. if someone even looks at you wrong, he’s already on high alert. he’s never been one for confrontation, but when it comes to you and the baby, any potential threat—no matter how small—will make him react swiftly and decisively.

✧ if anyone dares to make a comment about your pregnancy—whether it’s an unintentional insult or even a curious question about your condition—moze is there, stepping in before you can even respond.

✧ he’ll be quick to intervene, his voice cold and firm. “is there a problem?” he’ll ask, his tone leaving no room for argument. he doesn’t care if it’s a stranger or a close friend, he’ll defend you without hesitation.

✧ sometimes, though, his protectiveness comes off as a bit much. when you’re out and about, he’s constantly by your side, his eyes scanning the area. if there’s a slight shift in the atmosphere, if someone moves too fast or too close to you, he’s immediately on guard, subtly stepping in front of you to shield you from whatever danger his sharp instincts are sensing.

✧ even in private, when you’re just relaxing or resting, he’s often hovering nearby, keeping a watchful eye. it’s not that he doesn’t trust you—it’s just that his protective nature has escalated to the point where he feels he can’t leave your side for too long. it’s almost as if being near you makes him feel like he has more control over your safety, as irrational as it may be.

✧ there are moments when you notice him getting anxious if you’re out of his sight for too long. whether you’re running errands or simply walking in another room, moze’s mind starts racing with worries about what could go wrong. he’ll quickly excuse himself from whatever he’s doing to make sure you’re okay, often without telling you beforehand.

✧ when you call him out on his behaviour—teasing him about how overprotective he’s become—he’ll brush it off, his usual calm demeanour faltering for just a moment. deep down, he knows he’s being a little too much, but he can’t help it. the thought of anything happening to you or the baby is unbearable to him. “I’m just making sure you’re safe,” he’ll say, his voice almost apologetic, but there’s an undeniable seriousness in his words.

✧ the most intense expression of his protectiveness comes when you’re asleep. when he knows you’re resting, moze will often sit beside you, his eyes flicking to the door, the window, anything that could pose a threat. it’s not out of a lack of trust in the people around you—it’s just that he can’t help but imagine all the worst-case scenarios.

✧ when he’s out on missions, he’ll always leave something behind for you: a note, a small gift, or even a piece of clothing with his scent on it. it’s his way of reassuring you that he’s thinking of you, even when he’s not physically present. but it’s also his way of ensuring you feel protected, even when he’s far away.

✧ he’s so protective that even the slightest health concern about you makes him panic. if you’re feeling a little tired or have a headache, he’s there, checking your temperature, demanding you rest, and refusing to leave until you’re fully recovered.

✧ moze’s protectiveness isn’t just physical; it’s emotional, too. when you’re dealing with the stress or uncertainty of pregnancy, he’s your steady rock. he’ll listen to every concern, soothe every worry, and make sure you know that you’re not alone. he’s already planning for the future, researching everything he can about raising a child, so he can be the best father possible.

✧ in quiet moments, when he’s just holding you or resting beside you, he might admit his fears. “i’m scared,” he’ll say softly, his usual stoic expression softening. “i don’t want anything to happen to you or the baby.” his vulnerability is rare, but it’s a testament to just how much he loves you both.

✧ his protectiveness never fades—it only grows stronger the closer you get to your due date. he’s constantly by your side, offering comfort, reassurance, and unspoken protection in every gesture, every word, and every action.

✧ moze is already extremely attentive to your cravings, and when you start to ask for something a bit more specific or unusual, he’s not one to shy away. but there's a catch—he’s not exactly a culinary expert. while he’s incredibly skilled in other areas, cooking is not his strong suit. so, naturally, when you have a craving, he’s quick to ask jiaoqiu to cook for you.

✧ at first, moze might be a bit embarrassed, but he genuinely wants you to feel comfortable and satisfied with whatever you’re craving. he might come to jiaoqiu with a sheepish smile, saying something along the lines of, "i’m afraid I’m not very good in the kitchen... could you help me?" his usual composed demeanor is a little shaken because he knows that jiaoqiu is probably a much better cook than he could ever hope to be.

✧ jiaoqiu, ever the understanding friend, is happy to oblige. he can’t resist helping out when moze comes to him with that rare moment of vulnerability. but knowing that moze is trying to be thoughtful and learn, jiaoqiu has a bit of fun with it. he doesn’t just cook the food—he starts teaching moze along the way, much to moze’s discomfort.

✧ “You need to do this carefully... and don’t forget the seasoning,” jiaoqiu will say, demonstrating how to chop ingredients just right or stir the pot at the perfect pace. moze, on the other hand, looks a bit lost, trying his best to follow along but occasionally making a mess. it’s clear he’s not exactly a natural, and jiaoqiu’s teasing makes it even more amusing. “i thought you were good at everything, moze? this looks like a disaster in the making.”

✧ moze, determined not to fail you, listens closely, even though he might grumble under his breath when jiaoqiu critiques his knife skills or the way he’s holding the pan. he’s doing it all to make sure you’re satisfied and happy, even if it means a little bit of embarrassment along the way.

✧ meanwhile, he’s still keeping a protective eye on you from the kitchen, glancing over to make sure you’re resting and not pushing yourself. “you’re doing okay?” he’ll ask, even if it’s just a quick glance. he doesn’t trust anyone else to take care of you as well as he does, and he’s constantly checking in.

✧ when jiaoqiu hands over the finished dish, moze’s face lights up, but there's still a hint of guilt for not being able to do it himself. he insists on thanking jiaoqiu profusely, though deep down, he’s already planning his next attempt at cooking so he can surprise you one day.

✧ “i’ll get better at this... for you.” he’ll say to you later that evening, offering you a gentle smile. “next time, i’ll cook it myself.” and while jiaoqiu might snicker at his attempts, moze’s resolve is firm. after all, he’ll do whatever it takes to make you happy, even if it means learning how to cook your cravings—even if it takes more than a few lessons from jiaoqiu.

note: i'm obsessed with anaxa n mydei

taglist 🏷️:  @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @yuri-is-silly @khoiyyu @daydreaming-paradies if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

—

The moment your feet touched the ground of the Xianzhou Luofu, the world around you erupted into chaos.

One second, you were merely stepping off the grand airship that had carried you through the Astral Sea, and the next, you were utterly surrounded—crowded by eager citizens, high-ranking officials, and even a few Vidyadhara elders who had abandoned their usual serene composure in favor of absolute devotion.

“Creator! Oh, most divine one! Please, accept this humble offering—”

“These are the finest silks woven by the most skilled artisans of the Luofu! Only the best for Your Holiness!”

“My family has worshiped You for generations, O Creator! Please, take this—no, no, take all of it—”

Hands thrust forward gifts of all kinds: shimmering jade ornaments, scrolls filled with poetry written in your honor, delicately embroidered robes infused with strands of blessed gold, and even towering platters of delicacies so elaborately prepared that you had no idea how one was supposed to eat them without ruining the artistry.

The crowd pressed in, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of praise and desperate pleas. Some people knelt in open worship, while others trembled on the verge of tears, overcome by the mere sight of you. You barely had time to react as more and more hands stretched out, some daring to reach for you—only to quickly withdraw as if touching you would be a sin beyond redemption.

You felt the weight of it all crashing down at once. Their overwhelming adoration, the suffocating attention, the sheer amount of stuff being shoved into your hands—your arms were already full, and yet gifts kept piling up, stacked precariously as people kept insisting, “Please, You must accept this!”

Your mind reeled. How were you supposed to carry all this?

Just as you were about to be buried alive under the sheer number of offerings, a smooth, amused voice cut through the chaos.

“Now, now, everyone, let’s give our dear Creator some space to breathe, shall we?”

A familiar figure approached with a casual, almost lazy gait, his golden eyes glinting with mirth despite the serene smile on his face.

Jing Yuan.

Finally.

The tension in your shoulders immediately lessened at the sight of the Arbiter-General, who effortlessly slipped through the throng of devotees, his mere presence enough to make people step back—reluctantly, of course. His relaxed demeanor only added to the contrast between the fervent crowd and the calm authority he exuded.

In one smooth motion, Jing Yuan plucked several stacked gift boxes from your arms and, with the ease of someone entirely too used to handling excessive burdens, passed them off to a group of hesitant Cloud Knights standing nearby.

“Ah, such generosity from the people of the Luofu,” he mused, resting a hand on his chin. “Truly, your devotion to the Creator is admirable. However, burying them under a mountain of offerings seems a bit… excessive, wouldn’t you agree?”

A few people had the decency to look sheepish, but others still gazed at you with unwavering reverence, eyes shining with the desperate need for approval.

Jing Yuan tilted his head slightly and sighed. “If you all truly wish to show your love and respect, perhaps you should allow the Creator to rest after such a long journey. Don’t you think they deserve at least that much?”

There was a moment of silence—hesitation, perhaps—but then the crowd finally, finally, began to disperse, albeit begrudgingly. The most devoted still lingered at a distance, hands clutched to their chests as they whispered prayers under their breath.

Jing Yuan turned to you then, his smile softening as he regarded your exhausted form. “That was quite the welcome, wasn’t it?”

You let out a breath you didn’t even realise you’d been holding. “I was two seconds away from getting buried alive.”

Jing Yuan chuckled, a rich, warm sound that was oddly comforting. “I noticed. Hence my timely rescue.”

He extended an arm toward you, a silent offer of escape from the still-hovering masses. You didn’t hesitate to step closer, and with that, he effortlessly guided you through the streets, keeping the lingering devotees at a polite yet firm distance.

As you walked, he leaned in slightly and murmured, “I must admit, I almost didn’t intervene. The sight of you balancing all those offerings was rather amusing.”

You shot him a glare, though it lacked any real heat. “I will actually smite you.”

Jing Yuan only grinned. “Oh? That would be quite the divine punishment.”

Despite his teasing, you could feel the protective undertone in his presence. He never once let anyone get too close, subtly positioning himself between you and the most overzealous worshippers. His touch, though light, was grounding—a reminder that you weren’t alone in handling this overwhelming situation.

Somehow, you had no idea how, you were totally not freaking out. I mean seriously, you, the supposed "Creator" of this world was being escorted by the one and only Jing Yuan.

You always found him handsome, gushing over him every time you saw him ingame and in the oh so beautiful edits. Now that you're thinking about it you lowkey miss scrolling through edits...

Finally, after weaving through the grand avenues of the Luofu, Jing Yuan led you to a quiet garden, a place of respite where the gentle murmur of a koi pond replaced the incessant praises and frantic devotion.

You sighed, shoulders sagging as you flopped onto a stone bench. “Thank you. Seriously.”

Jing Yuan sat beside you, stretching lazily. “Think nothing of it, Creator. It is, after all, my duty to ensure your safety.” His golden eyes twinkled with a teasing light. “Even if that means saving you from an avalanche of gifts.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “This is only the first region. How am I supposed to survive the rest of this journey?”

Jing Yuan hummed thoughtfully before leaning back with a smirk. “Well, if you ever feel like you’re drowning in worship, you could always hide behind me.”

You looked at him, deadpan. “So I should use you as a human shield?”

“A most noble purpose,” he said solemnly. “I would be honored.”

You couldn’t help it—you laughed. A genuine, amused laugh that made the weight of everything seem just a little lighter.

And for now, that was enough.

That evening Jing Yuan made it his speciality (well, there was no other perfect for this role) to help you around and set you up in the finest hotel they have, though he was contemplating whether or not to let you stay in his home.

Oh well, another time.

After a much-needed moment of peace in the secluded garden, Jing Yuan finally stood, stretching with a satisfied sigh.

"As much as I enjoy our quiet escape, we can't keep the officials waiting forever. Besides, there's still one more matter to attend to before you settle in."

You gave him a wary look. "Please tell me it doesn't involve more people throwing things at me."

Jing Yuan chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "No, no, nothing of the sort. This is merely a... welcome gift, of sorts. One befitting your divine status."

With a flick of his wrist, he signaled a Cloud Knight nearby, who quickly bowed and stepped forward, handing him an ornate jade key embossed with golden inlays. Jing Yuan twirled it between his fingers before offering it to you.

"The finest lodging in all of the Luofu awaits you, Creator. We've taken the liberty of preparing the most luxurious accommodations—handcrafted furniture, celestial silk bedding, a private garden, and, of course, an entire team of attendants at your beck and call."

You blinked. "You got me a palace?"

Jing Yuan hummed. "Did you want a palace? I can certainly..."

"No! It's alright!"

Your escort back into the main district of the Luofu was far more controlled this time, thanks to the Arbiter-General’s presence. Though citizens still peered at you with awe, none dared to swarm you again under his watchful eye.

Eventually, you arrived before an exquisite structure that towered above the rest of the district. It was more than just a hotel—it was a masterpiece.

The building gleamed under the warm glow of Xianzhou lanterns, its architecture a perfect blend of ancient artistry and modern refinement. The entrance alone was grander than any palace you had seen, with enormous wooden doors adorned with gold filigree and jade carvings of divine creatures bowing in reverence.

A faint, pleasant floral aroma wafted from within, and even from the threshold, you could tell that the entire establishment exuded luxury.

A team of elegantly dressed attendants stood in perfect formation, their heads bowed respectfully as they awaited your arrival.

The head steward, an elderly but refined man with a neatly tied beard, stepped forward, his expression filled with practiced grace.

"O Most Revered Creator, it is our greatest honor to welcome You to the Celestial Pavilion, the pinnacle of hospitality in the Xianzhou Luofu. Every suite, every meal, every service within these walls has been prepared with Your divine comfort in mind."

The doors swung open, revealing an interior that was almost too stunning to believe.

The floor was made of polished white jade, reflecting the warm glow of floating lanterns that hovered like soft stars above. An artificial river ran through the grand lobby, its waters imbued with luminescent koi fish that swam in mesmerizing patterns. Exquisite tapestries depicting celestial beings hung from the walls, woven with real gold and silver threads.

Jing Yuan leaned down slightly, whispering near your ear, "Too much?"

You turned to him with an incredulous look. "Jing Yuan. This is not a hotel. This is an imperial palace in disguise."

He laughed, clearly entertained by your reaction. "Well, nothing but the best for our dear Creator. Besides, would you really prefer a lesser place after all the trouble of traveling here?"

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "I just feel like this is… way too much."

Jing Yuan smirked. "You underestimate how deeply the people of the Luofu revere you. To them, even this is barely enough."

Before you could protest further, the head steward gestured towards an awaiting elevator, its interior lined with intricate carvings of constellations.

"Please, allow us to guide You to Your private suite. The entire top floor has been reserved solely for You, ensuring the utmost privacy and security."

Jing Yuan made a teasing gesture towards the elevator. "Shall we, O Divine One?"

You shot him a look but stepped inside regardless, allowing the attendants to lead the way.

When the elevator doors slid open, you were greeted with a sight that made your previous awe seem insignificant.

The suite was enormous—practically a mansion in itself. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking panoramic view of the Luofu, where floating islands drifted lazily against a sea of stars. The decor was luxurious yet tasteful, blending rich Xianzhou aesthetics with divine motifs. Silken drapes billowed gently from the breeze of an open balcony, where a koi pond glowed softly in the moonlight.

The centerpiece of the room, however, was the massive bed—practically a throne of luxury. The sheets were woven from celestial silk, rumored to be softer than clouds, and the pillows looked as though they could swallow you whole.

You turned to Jing Yuan, your voice deadpan. "Did you guys handpick the softest, most luxurious materials in the entire universe for this?"

He hummed. "More or less. The mattress is filled with the down of a rare celestial bird said to bring pleasant dreams. The silk was harvested from dreamweaving moths, whose threads are softer than air itself."

You stared at the impossibly extravagant bed, then back at him. "This bed alone is worth more than my entire existence, isn’t it?"

Jing Yuan grinned, tilting his head. "Perhaps. But as the Creator, what is wealth to You?"

You groaned, flopping onto the bed despite your previous complaints. The moment your body sank into the heavenly softness, a deep sigh escaped your lips. "...Okay, fine. This is actually incredible."

Jing Yuan’s chuckle was smooth, triumphant. "I thought you’d come around."

Just then, an attendant entered with a respectful bow. "Creator, your evening meal has been prepared. Would you like it served in the dining hall, or shall we bring it to you here?"

Her voice trembled ever so slightly, and you noticed.

You were about to answer when Jing Yuan sat down beside you with an easygoing smile. "I can join you, if you’d like. Of course, I’d understand if you prefer to dine alone after such a long day."

You hesitated, then gave him a small smirk. "Stay. I think I need someone to keep me from drowning in luxury."

Jing Yuan let out a laugh, leaning back on his hands. "Very well. Consider it my continued duty to ensure you survive this overwhelming hospitality."

As the attendants set up a feast of delicacies, you allowed yourself a rare moment of relaxation. The overwhelming attention, the endless gifts, the suffocating devotion—it was a lot to handle.

But at least, for now, you had Jing Yuan by your side to make it all a little more bearable.

And with Penacony as your next destination, you were going to need all the support you could get.

—

That night, after a long and overwhelming day, you finally let out a deep sigh as you sank into the impossibly soft mattress. The pearly silk sheets draped over your body like the gentlest of clouds, but even with all the luxury surrounding you, something felt… odd.

Not bad, just unreal.

You had spent the entire day being treated like something divine—worshipped, adored, and overwhelmed with endless gifts and reverence. While you knew the people of Xianzhou Luofu meant well, the sheer intensity of their devotion had left your mind reeling.

Sitting up, you pulled at the silky robe you had been given earlier, rubbing the fabric between your fingers. It was exquisite, made from rare materials woven by expert hands, but it wasn’t what you needed right now.

So, with a decisive nod, you slipped out of bed and padded over to the wardrobe. As expected, it was massive—filled with handpicked garments of the finest quality, likely tailored specifically for you. But you ignored the silken robes and intricate gowns, your eyes searching for something softer, fluffier—something that felt normal.

And, to your relief, you found it.

A set of plush, cozy loungewear—still elegant, but far more comfortable than the regal attire you had been given throughout the day. You wasted no time changing into it, sighing in contentment as the soft fabric hugged your skin.

Much better.

Now properly dressed for relaxation, you returned to the bed, slipping beneath the covers once more. The dim golden glow of the lanterns cast warm shadows across the room, the faint sound of running water from the koi pond outside filling the air with a serene ambiance.

You had a couple of weeks here before moving on to Penacony. That thought alone was enough to make you sigh again—two whole weeks of this level of treatment. It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful, but it was overwhelming. How were you supposed to act when everyone saw you as something so divine?

Just as you were beginning to spiral into your thoughts again, there was a polite knock at the door.

A soft voice spoke from the other side. “Apologies for disturbing you, O Revered One. General Jing Yuan has sent a message regarding tomorrow.”

Curious, you sat up. “Come in.”

The door slid open, revealing a neatly dressed servant who carried a delicate scroll sealed with golden wax. They bowed deeply before presenting it to you.

You accepted it, offering a small nod of thanks. The servant hesitated, as if debating whether to say something, but ultimately decided against it and left as silently as they had arrived.

Breaking the seal, you unrolled the scroll and began reading.

Dearest Creator, I imagine today has been rather… intense. I would say you’ll grow used to it, but I doubt anyone could adjust so quickly to such unrelenting devotion. Fortunately, I have taken it upon myself to provide a reprieve from the overwhelming fanfare. Tomorrow, allow me the honor of showing you the Xianzhou that few ever see. Beyond the grand halls and bustling markets lie hidden wonders—sacred places, untouched beauty, and sights reserved only for those deemed worthy. I assure you, this will not be an ordinary tour. You deserve to witness the true splendor of the Luofu, not just the grandeur they parade before you. Rest well, and anticipate a journey unlike any other. —Jing Yuan

A small, genuine smile tugged at your lips.

For the first time since arriving, you felt something besides pressure—excitement.

The idea of seeing the true beauty of Xianzhou, beyond the formal ceremonies and excessive tributes, sparked something warm in your chest. Jing Yuan wasn’t treating you like some untouchable deity—he was inviting you to experience something.

And you couldn’t wait.

With that thought, you carefully set the scroll aside and curled deeper into the blankets, a quiet sense of anticipation settling over you.

Tomorrow would be different.

Tomorrow, you wouldn’t just be the Creator.

You would be you.

As the warmth of sleep wrapped around you, your thoughts drifted into a haze of anticipation. The soft embrace of the plush blankets, the faint trickle of water outside, and the distant hum of the city lulled you into a peaceful slumber.

And for the first time since arriving, you truly rested.

But something was… different.

The dream came suddenly—so vivid, so distant, yet unbearably familiar. You were surrounded by muffled voices, warped as though you were underwater, their words blurred beyond recognition. Faint beeping echoed somewhere in the background, rhythmic and steady, like the slow, deliberate ticking of time.

A sharp scent filled the air—antiseptic, sterile.

Hospital.

Your fingers twitched. No silk, no embroidery, no luxurious warmth. Instead, there was something stiff beneath you, something thin and uncomfortable. You tried to move, but your limbs felt heavy, weighed down as if submerged in an invisible force keeping you still.

The voices grew clearer.

"—stable for now."

"Still no response?"

"Nothing. But brain activity is... unusual."

There was a pressure on your chest—something tight, restricting. Panic clawed at your throat, and you tried to force your eyes open, but the dream was cruel, keeping you trapped in its grasp.

A shadow moved beyond the blinding hospital lights. Someone leaned over you, their features blurred beyond recognition, but there was an undeniable concern in their presence.

"Come back to us."

The voice sent a chill down your spine, a foreign familiarity creeping in. Come back? Where? To what?

Your heart pounded. The dream was suffocating, pressing against you with a weight that felt far too real. You weren’t supposed to be here. You were supposed to be in your flagship, on your way to Penacony, celebrated and revered as the Creator.

So why did it feel like something—someone—was pulling you back?

The beeping quickened, an alarmed voice sounded somewhere beyond the veil of unconsciousness, but before you could grasp onto anything, the dream collapsed in on itself.

You shot up in bed, gasping.

The room was dark, the only light coming from the celestial glow of the stars outside the massive windows of your chambers. Your chest heaved as you struggled to regain your breath, hands trembling slightly as they gripped the silk sheets. The sensation of the dream lingered, the sterile scent, the voices, the weight of something unseen—

But it was gone.

You swallowed hard, pressing a hand against your forehead. It was just a dream.

…Right?

—

A gentle knocking stirred you from your dreams.

At first, you barely registered the sound, your mind still caught between the lingering remnants of sleep and the waking world. The knock came again—soft, patient, yet firm enough to rouse you.

You blinked blearily, shifting beneath the covers as the morning light seeped in through the ornate windows, casting golden rays across the room.

“Good morning, Your Grace.”

The voice was familiar—smooth, rich with amusement, and unmistakably belonging to Jing Yuan.

That woke you up completely.

Still groggy, you sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. The memory of last night came rushing back—his letter, the promise of an exclusive tour, the excitement that had lulled you into such a deep sleep.

He’s here already?!

Panicked, you glanced down at yourself, relieved to find you hadn’t tangled yourself in the sheets or drooled all over the pillow like some sleep-deprived mess. Your fluffy loungewear was slightly rumpled, but nothing too embarrassing.

Clearing your throat, you called out, “Come in.”

The door slid open smoothly, revealing Jing Yuan.

He stood at the threshold, hands folded neatly behind his back, his usual composed yet knowing smile resting on his lips. The morning light framed him perfectly, highlighting the silver strands of his long, flowing hair and the sharp yet relaxed features of his face. His robes, though still formal, were noticeably lighter than the ones he wore during official duties.

Even his very presence exuded effortless grace, like he had all the time in the world.

“I see you’ve rested well,” he mused, taking in your cozy state with an amused glint in his golden eyes. “It would be a shame if the Creator themselves were sleep-deprived in my care.”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing tone but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “I did, actually. Thanks for asking.”

He nodded approvingly. “Good. You’ll need all your energy for today.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That makes it sound like you’re planning to make me run a marathon.”

Jing Yuan chuckled. “Nothing so drastic, I promise. But I do intend to take you places that require a bit more… mobility than sitting on a grand throne accepting gifts all day.”

That piqued your interest. “You weren’t joking about showing me the real Xianzhou, huh?”

“I would never joke about such a thing,” he said with a smirk. “I value my life too much to deceive the Creator.”

You snorted at that but were already feeling more awake and eager for the day ahead.

“I’ll get dressed,” you said, swinging your legs over the bed. “Give me a few minutes.”

Jing Yuan inclined his head, stepping back toward the door. “Take your time. I’ll be waiting just outside.”

As the door slid shut behind him, you let out a breath and stood up, stretching as you tried to shake off the remnants of sleep.

Today was going to be different.

And you couldn’t wait.

Once you were dressed and ready, you stepped outside, greeted by the soft morning breeze that carried the delicate scent of blooming flora. The Xianzhou Luofu was already stirring with life—merchants setting up their stalls, artisans practicing their craft, and the faint hum of ships soaring above the bustling city.

And, of course, Jing Yuan was waiting for you.

Leaning casually against one of the elegant wooden pillars just outside your quarters, the general looked completely at ease, as if he had all the time in the world. His golden eyes gleamed with quiet amusement as he watched you approach.

“I was beginning to wonder if the Creator was the type to sleep in,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, adjusting the light outer robe draped over your shoulders. “I think I deserve some extra rest after yesterday.”

Jing Yuan let out a soft chuckle. “That, I can’t argue with. But I did promise you an unforgettable tour, and I intend to deliver.”

You tilted your head. “So, where are we going first?”

He turned slightly, motioning for you to follow. “Somewhere only a select few have the privilege of visiting.”

Intrigued, you walked beside him as he led you through the city. The streets were lined with towering buildings adorned with intricate carvings, the scent of freshly brewed tea and steamed buns wafting through the air as street vendors called out their morning specials. You could feel the weight of countless eyes on you—some reverent, some awestruck, and some barely able to hold back their excitement.

Word had spread, fast.

Whispers followed in your wake. Citizens knelt as you passed, their expressions a mixture of devotion and disbelief, as if they couldn’t believe they were standing in the presence of their revered Creator.

You felt your steps falter, slightly overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of their gazes.

Jing Yuan must have noticed, because without hesitation, he shifted closer to you, his voice low and reassuring. “Ignore the crowd. They mean no harm, but I understand how suffocating such attention can be.”

You exhaled, nodding as you did your best to focus on the path ahead.

Before long, you reached a secluded area near the edge of the city—a vast, hidden garden surrounded by towering cherry blossom trees, their petals fluttering gently in the wind. A sacred place, untouched by the bustling city, where the only sounds were the soft rustling of leaves and the distant chime of wind bells hanging from the eaves of an ancient shrine.

Your breath caught.

The sight before you was breathtaking.

A grand koi pond stretched out before you, its crystal-clear waters reflecting the soft hues of dawn. The koi swam gracefully beneath the surface—some golden, some shimmering like silver, and a few so rare they seemed almost ethereal. Stone pathways curved around the pond, leading to delicate wooden pavilions shaded by vibrant red maples.

Jing Yuan stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back as he observed your reaction. “This place has existed for centuries, long before my time. Few ever set foot here.” He turned to you, a knowing glint in his eyes. “But I thought it was only right for you to see the beauty your world has inspired.”

You swallowed hard, a strange warmth blossoming in your chest.

It wasn’t just the scenery—it was the meaning behind it.

Jing Yuan had personally chosen this place, not as a grand spectacle for the people to see, but as something meant only for you. A place where you weren’t the revered Creator burdened by endless expectations—just you.

Your fingers grazed the petals of a cherry blossom branch as you took a deep breath. “…It’s beautiful.”

Jing Yuan smiled. “I’m glad you think so.”

For a moment, the two of you simply stood there, letting the peace of the garden settle around you.

Then, with a small smirk, he added, “Of course, this is only the beginning. There’s much more to see.”

You turned to him, curiosity sparking in your gaze. “Oh? You have more surprises?”

He chuckled, his golden eyes glinting playfully. “Would I really be a good host if I didn’t?”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Alright, General. Impress me.”

Jing Yuan was nothing if not an exceptional guide. From the moment you left the tranquil garden, he took it upon himself to show you everything—from the grandiose to the humble, from the historical to the modern, ensuring you experienced Xianzhou Luofu not as some untouchable deity, but as someone meant to live within it, even if only for a short while.

The two of you strolled through vast, open courtyards where swordsmen trained with unwavering focus, their movements so precise they almost looked choreographed. Some paused mid-strike when they noticed you, their expressions flickering between awe and disbelief before quickly bowing in reverence. Jing Yuan simply chuckled, assuring them they need not falter in their training.

From there, he led you through the bustling markets, where the scent of incense, fresh herbs, and sizzling skewers filled the air. The shopkeepers, upon realizing who had stepped into their midst, nearly fell over themselves to offer their best wares.

Silken fabrics embroidered with golden threads, delicate porcelain tea sets, and finely crafted accessories were all presented to you with utmost sincerity and a touch of the Xianzhou. But despite their efforts, what truly captivated you was the food.

Jing Yuan, ever the indulgent host, made sure you tasted everything.

Steamed dumplings filled with fragrant broth that burst the moment you bit into them. Crispy duck brushed with a glossy, caramelized glaze. Fluffy lotus seed pastries, subtly sweet and impossibly soft. You were handed skewers of spiced meat, bowls of fresh noodles, and warm cups of floral-infused tea before you even had time to finish what was already in your hands.

"You should pace yourself, Your Grace," Jing Yuan remarked, amused as he handed you yet another delicacy—a delicate mooncake with an intricate design pressed into its golden crust. "I fear the entirety of the Xianzhou’s culinary scene might end up on our table at this rate."

You swallowed a bite of your current dish, shaking your head with a grin. "You're the one accepting everything on my behalf."

He feigned innocence. "I would never refuse a citizen’s heartfelt offering to their beloved Creator."

You gave him a flat look, but there was no real irritation behind it. Truth be told, it was nice—to walk freely among the people, to experience their world through their senses. The energy of the marketplace was vibrant, filled with life and laughter, and for once, you didn’t feel like an unreachable deity. You felt... present.

And Jing Yuan?

He never rushed you, never made you feel overwhelmed. He kept a comfortable pace, his tone always light and teasing but never overbearing. He shared small stories about the vendors—how one particular old man had been selling candied fruits in that very spot for decades, how a certain tea house had once been a hidden meeting place for strategists during past conflicts. Every bit of history he wove into the day made you feel more connected to this world.

After what felt like hours of exploring, the two of you eventually found yourselves in a secluded, open-air pavilion overlooking the sprawling city. The view was breathtaking—elegant rooftops stretching into the horizon, sky-faring ships gliding smoothly between them, the setting sun dipping the entire city in warm hues of orange and gold.

You let out a long sigh, leaning against the railing as the cool breeze caressed your skin. "I think I’ve walked more today than I have in months."

Jing Yuan chuckled, standing beside you with his hands clasped behind his back. "That only means you’ve truly experienced the Xianzhou as it should be—through movement, conversation, and indulgence." He turned his gaze toward you, his golden eyes gleaming with something softer, more genuine.

"You’ve granted us your presence, but I wanted you to see that this world—your world—has flourished because of what you created."

You were quiet for a moment, absorbing the weight of his words.

Despite the reverence, the titles, the endless offerings, this was the first time you truly felt the impact of your presence—not as some untouchable being, but as someone whose influence had shaped the very lives of these people. And the way Jing Yuan presented it… it was less about worship and more about appreciation.

A small smile tugged at your lips. "You’ve done a good job showing me that, General."

He hummed, satisfied. "Then my work is far from over. We still have more to see in the coming days."

You exhaled a small laugh, shaking your head. "So this was only the first course?"

His smirk returned. "Consider it the appetizer."

You rolled your eyes but felt something warm bloom in your chest. For the first time since arriving, you weren’t just thinking about the responsibilities or the expectations placed upon you.

As the day stretched on, you couldn’t help but notice something—Jing Yuan was close. Not in a way that was immediately obvious, but in the quiet, lingering touches, the way his presence seemed to loom over you no matter where you went.

At first, it was subtle. A guiding hand resting on the small of your back when maneuvering through the crowded marketplace. The barely-there brush of his fingers against yours when handing you a small pastry.

The way his arm always seemed to find its way near your shoulder whenever you paused to admire something. You thought little of it at first, assuming it was just his way of ensuring you weren’t overwhelmed, but the more you paid attention, the more you realized—he wasn’t just watching over you.

He was hovering.

Even when he wasn’t touching you, he was there—standing just a little too close, his broad frame shadowing yours, his golden eyes flickering toward you with an almost unreadable expression. It wasn’t suffocating, nor was it entirely unwelcome, but it was… noticeable.

When you stopped to observe the koi fish in a serene garden pond, he stood beside you, leaning in just enough that his shoulder nearly touched yours. When you reached for a delicate silk scarf at one of the stalls, his fingers grazed the fabric just a second after yours did.

When you felt a cool breeze pass through one of the higher balconies, he draped a light shawl over your shoulders before you even had a chance to shiver.

And then there were the moments where his presence felt deliberate.

Like when he reached past you to pick up a small trinket, his chest nearly pressing against your back, voice a low murmur as he commented on the craftsmanship. Or when he guided you through the lantern-lit streets as dusk settled, his hand barely ghosting over your wrist, as if he was waiting for you to take it instead.

You weren’t sure if it was intentional.

Jing Yuan was a man of strategy, after all—calculated, deliberate—but he was also known for his easygoing nature. Maybe this was just how he was with everyone, always exuding warmth and familiarity. Maybe you were reading too much into it.

But then came the moment that shattered any doubts.

As you stood atop a high balcony, gazing at the stars beginning to twinkle in the sky, you sighed contentedly. "It’s beautiful here," you murmured, resting your arms on the cool stone railing. "It almost feels unreal."

Jing Yuan stood beside you, his gaze distant yet thoughtful. "Many things feel unreal when one has been apart from them for too long," he said softly.

You turned to glance at him, and that’s when you realized—he was already looking at you. Not just watching, but studying. His golden eyes held something deeper, something unspoken.

Before you could react, he reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. The touch was fleeting, barely more than a whisper against your skin, but it left something in its wake—a slow, creeping awareness that settled deep in your chest.

He withdrew his hand just as quickly, offering a lazy smile, as if the moment hadn’t just sent your thoughts spiraling.

"Shall we continue, Your Grace?" he asked, voice as smooth as ever.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to nod. "Y-yeah."

And as he turned to lead the way, you found yourself gripping the railing for just a second longer, steadying yourself against the sudden, undeniable realization—Jing Yuan wasn’t just being protective.

He was close because he wanted to be.

The days in the Xianzhou Luofu stretched into weeks, each one filled with discovery, leisure, and the constant, undeniable presence of Jing Yuan. True to his word, he showed you the hidden beauties of the region—secluded gardens filled with bioluminescent flora, floating islands where the sky stretched endlessly beneath your feet, and ancient archives containing records that spoke of your existence in reverent detail.

Despite how grand it all was, it was his company that made it truly memorable. You shared countless conversations, indulged in the finest foods, and walked through the streets as if you were simply another traveler—rather than the Creator they all revered. But no matter how relaxed the days seemed, Jing Yuan never strayed far. His presence lingered like an unspoken promise, his touches, though subtle, never accidental.

But tonight… tonight was different.

Jing Yuan had been called away on urgent matters. It was rare for him to leave your side for long, and while his parting words had been gentle—“Don’t wander too far without me, Your Grace.”—you had never been one to follow orders blindly.

And so, under the veil of twilight, you walked alone.

The streets were quiet, the usual bustle of the marketplace replaced with the distant hum of lanterns swaying in the night breeze. The Luofu was beautiful at this hour, bathed in soft, golden light that made the world feel almost suspended in time.

But you weren’t alone.

You felt it before you saw him—a presence, heavy and sharp, like the edge of a blade hovering just close enough to cut.

Instinctively, you stopped, your gaze drifting to the shadows near the entrance of a closed tea house. And then you saw him.

Blade.

He stood partially obscured by the darkness, his crimson eyes gleaming even in the dim light. His posture was relaxed, yet there was an unmistakable intensity to the way he looked at you.

He had been watching.

How long had he been there? How many times had he watched from the shadows, unseen?

Your heart should have pounded in alarm, but it didn’t. Because Blade did not feel like a threat.

He felt like something else—something foreign yet familiar, like a whisper of something long forgotten.

"You shouldn’t be out here alone," his voice was low, carrying easily in the stillness.

You tilted your head slightly, taking a careful step closer. "Are you watching over me?"

Blade didn’t answer immediately. His gaze flickered over you—not in reverence, not in fear, but in something far more unreadable.

"You walk freely," he finally murmured, "yet you are not free."

The words sent a shiver down your spine, but before you could ask what he meant, he moved.

A sudden shift of air, and then—he was closer. Not enough to touch, but enough that you could see every detail of him—the sharp angles of his face, the way his dark hair fell over his eyes, the almost imperceptible tension in his stance.

"Why do you care?" you asked softly.

For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t answer. But then—

"Because you are not theirs," he said, voice quiet yet resolute. "You are not Jing Yuan’s. Not the Xianzhou’s. Not the worshippers’." His eyes met yours, unwavering. "You are your own."

The words settled in your chest, heavy yet oddly comforting.

But before you could respond, a sudden gust of wind stirred the loose strands of your hair—and in the blink of an eye, Blade was gone.

Only the lingering weight of his words remained.

And for the first time since arriving, you realized—you were being watched, not as a deity, but as something far more human.

—

The final night of your stay in the Xianzhou Luofu was nothing short of grand.

A lavish banquet had been arranged in your honor, stretching through the ornate halls of the palace, adorned with glowing lanterns and the soft hum of ancient melodies. The long table was filled with exquisite dishes, each one crafted with painstaking detail—delicate dumplings shaped like blooming flowers, glistening seafood (Xianzhou specialty) drizzled with golden sauces, and rice wines so rich they lingered on the tongue like warm silk.

At the head of the table, you sat in a throne-like chair, a position that left no doubt as to who the night was dedicated to. Across from you, Jing Yuan, dressed in formal robes lined with gold, his usual lazy demeanor softened by something far more sincere.

To your sides, familiar faces—generals, officials, scholars, and even common citizens granted the honor of attending.

The night was filled with laughter, music, and endless toasts to you, to your presence, your existence, your return to their world, no matter how fleeting. Even as the gifts piled before you—intricately woven silks, handcrafted jewelry, rare artifacts from distant planets—you knew it was not the gifts themselves that mattered. It was the devotion.

And yet, as the night stretched on, you found yourself meeting Jing Yuan’s gaze more times than you could count. There was something in his eyes, something different than the adoration the others held. A quiet certainty, a claim he never voiced aloud but one you felt all the same.

You weren’t sure how much of the wine you had actually drunk by the time the night ended, but your body felt warm and exhausted when you finally retreated to the sanctuary of your chambers.

The moment your head hit the plush silk pillows, you felt your limbs grow heavy, your mind already drifting into half-consciousness.

And then there was a knock at your door.

Gentle, but deliberate.

For a moment, you considered ignoring it. But somehow, you already knew who it was.

With a tired sigh, you rose from your bed, pulling a loose robe over your nightclothes before padding toward the door. As it slid open, Jing Yuan stood there, bathed in the soft glow of the corridor lanterns.

Unlike before, he had shed his formal robes for something simpler, though he still looked effortlessly regal.

"Still awake?" his voice was low, carrying the warmth of someone who already knew the answer.

"Not really," you murmured, rubbing at your temple. "Do you need something?"

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he reached into the folds of his robe and pulled out a small, ornate box. The deep red lacquer gleamed under the soft light, adorned with intricate golden filigree.

"For you," he said simply, offering it to you.

Curious, you took the box and lifted the lid. Inside, nestled against deep velvet, was a necklace—a delicate yet intricately designed pendant, shimmering under the dim lighting. It was clearly no ordinary accessory. The craftsmanship alone spoke of its importance, but beyond that, there was something about it that felt… personal.

"For safety," Jing Yuan murmured, stepping closer. "It’s embedded with a warding charm, one that will protect you even when I am not at your side."

You swallowed, fingers brushing over the pendant’s cool surface. "You could’ve just given this to me at the banquet," you said, voice softer than you intended.

"I could have," he agreed, stepping even closer. His fingers ghosted over yours before gently taking the necklace from your grasp. "May I?"

Your breath hitched slightly. "Go ahead."

He moved with deliberate slowness, stepping behind you as he lifted the necklace. You felt the cool brush of metal against your skin as he draped it around your neck, his fingers barely grazing the sensitive skin at the nape. The warmth of his hands, the quiet closeness of him—it sent an unfamiliar shiver down your spine.

The clasp clicked into place, but Jing Yuan didn’t move away. Instead, his fingers lingered, lightly adjusting the chain, his breath warm against the side of your face.

"Perfect," he murmured, his voice lower now, almost… intimate.

You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of just how close he was. "For safety, huh?" you muttered, touching the pendant lightly.

"Of course," he said smoothly. But when you turned to glance at him, his golden eyes held something that betrayed the simple explanation.

This was not just for safety.

It was a claim. A silent, unspoken tether between you and him, you wondered if you were truly prepared for the implications of it.

—

The morning was bright and bustling with activity as the final preparations for your departure were completed. Servants and attendants moved swiftly, ensuring that every last detail was accounted for—your flagship had been polished to a pristine gleam, your outfits carefully selected and packed, luxurious meals prepared in case Penacony’s cuisine wasn’t to your liking (though you doubted that would be an issue), and of course, the countless gifts you had received were securely stored aboard.

It was as if the entire Xianzhou Luofu had come together for this moment, ensuring that your transition to the next region was nothing short of perfect.

You could feel the excitement thrumming in your veins. Though your time here had been unforgettable, a part of you couldn't wait to see what awaited you in Penacony. The mere thought of their reaction upon your arrival filled you with anticipation. You imagined the vibrant city streets, the glimmering neon lights, and the joy on their faces when they finally laid eyes on you.

The grand port was lined with citizens gathered to bid you farewell. Banners waved in the morning breeze, and the scent of incense and fresh flowers filled the air. As you walked towards the boarding ramp, countless voices called out their well wishes, their adoration evident in every word.

Some had tears in their eyes, others clasped their hands in reverence, and a few even dared to step forward, pressing gifts into your hands until your attendants had to take over.

Jing Yuan, ever composed, stood at the forefront of the officials sending you off. His golden eyes held their usual warmth, but there was something else hidden beneath his lazy expression—something unreadable. As you approached him, he inclined his head slightly, a small yet knowing smile tugging at his lips.

"You will be missed," he said, voice smooth as silk. "Do enjoy your stay in Penacony, but don't forget—there are still places in the Luofu you have yet to see. Perhaps, one day, you’ll return."

Something about the way he said it made your chest tighten slightly. Still, you smiled back, unwilling to linger on the strange feeling. "We’ll see," you teased.

A low chuckle rumbled from his throat, but before he could say anything more, your gaze was drawn elsewhere.

Amidst the sea of people, standing slightly apart from the rest, was a figure draped in dark colors—silent, unmoving, yet unmistakable. Blade.

His crimson eyes watched you, sharp and unreadable as always, but you could tell—he had been there for a while, lurking just beyond the crowd’s reach. He was always watching, always within the shadows, yet never too far.

You hesitated for only a moment before meeting his gaze, offering him a quick, subtle smile. His eyes flickered slightly, something almost imperceptible passing over his face before he looked away, melting back into the crowd.

You knew you would see him again in Penacony.

With one final glance at the people of Xianzhou Luofu—at Jing Yuan, at the devoted citizens, at the hidden figure that had already disappeared—you stepped aboard your flagship.

As the engines roared to life and the grand vessel began its ascent, a sense of exhilaration filled you.

A new journey awaited.

And you couldn’t wait to see what Penacony had in store for you.

—

As you settled into the luxurious chambers of your flagship, attendants fluttered around you, ensuring everything was in perfect order for your departure. The soft hum of the ship's engines filled the air, a gentle reminder that soon, you'd be soaring through the stars toward Penacony.

Draped in the finest clothing prepared for the journey, you admired yourself in the full-length mirror. The intricate embroidery, the shimmering fabrics, the way every piece sat perfectly on your frame—it was clear that nothing had been left to chance when selecting your attire.

You felt regal, effortlessly exuding the presence expected of someone of your status.

And yet, as you reached for your travel cloak, one of the attendants hesitated before stepping forward. “Apologies, Your Grace,” she said, bowing slightly, “but General Jing Yuan has requested that you wear this for the journey.”

She lifted a garment encased in a protective silk wrap. You blinked, curiosity piqued. As she unfolded it, your breath hitched slightly.

It was stunning.

Made of Xianzhou’s most exquisite silk, the fabric was impossibly smooth, flowing like liquid in the light. Intricate embroidery of golden threads adorned the sleeves and hem, depicting celestial motifs reminiscent of the Luofu’s heritage.

The colours—deep blues and shimmering silvers—reflected the elegance and authority befitting someone of your position.

But what struck you the most was how perfectly tailored it was. The moment the attendants helped you into it, the fabric molded to your body like a second skin, highlighting your form in a way that was neither restrictive nor excessive.

Every detail, from the precise fit of the collar to the effortless drape of the sleeves, felt as though it had been measured with exact precision.

And yet… you didn’t recall Jing Yuan ever taking your measurements.

Had he arranged this long before your arrival? Had the tailors studied you from afar? Or had he simply known—without needing to ask—what would suit you best?

You turned slightly, admiring the way the silk cascaded with every movement.

Oh well. It was beautiful.

With a soft sigh, you allowed the attendants to fasten the final clasps, running your fingers over the delicate embroidery. If nothing else, Jing Yuan had impeccable taste.

As the flagship made its ascent, you couldn’t help but wonder—had this been merely a gift of fine craftsmanship? Or yet another way for the general to ensure his presence lingered with you, even as you left his domain?

note: hi..hey.....well this is a bit awkward considering i haven't posted part 3 in like months...hopefully this was alright for you guys!

tags 🏷️: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @goldenglow149 @rhwm @urlocalheizousimp @saltylovetale-blog @toramune @oreo-ren @backintomykpopphaseagain @serenity-loves-red @flooofity @minteasketches @yurassia @chellazhef @fulldoves @kateybuggi @wanderingconstellations @mini-shower @160ccm @rosariashield @sickize @sarah22447 @dreamlessnight @gimmealmap @bebeluvs @caramelstarlight @sukiidreams @oceanist @achy-boo @alhaitie @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @that-mom-friend @v-ish @merormerry @gojoulen03 @scarletttcrow @hadischara @kithewanderingme @keiqqo @livelaughlovekuni @chirikoheina @wr1t3rfum1k0 @issacdaholi @yu-ulda @alysinbshsu @vanilla-sweets @your-local-reblogging-kazoo @be-gay-do-crime-ahaha @seipaws @clavichordcleffa @uhhhiwassupp @youdontneedyoknowlol @the-lazy-perfectionist @issacdarknight @lucienbarkbark @bizzybkd @obliviousariies2007 @coffee-seedy

@vashyuu @supershygirl @teenie-beanie @anduinandwrathionlover @owl778 @ravencrow1995 @wichiwachi @gasoline-eater @fuji-sen @blueberrysauce @roseapov @yourdailymemedelivery @levia-chan

@nottoomanypets @hazatora @mr-thundercloud @thesharkcollector @hotdinoankles

(if the usernames aren’t highlighted that’s because I can’t tag you so I’ll dm you when I post a new chapter! if i forgot to tag you im so sorry!)

for those i’ve taged: if you do not want to tagged for hsr drop a comment or message me.

suguru geto

✧ suguru geto doesn't tease you much, he has a more enigmatic demeanour, usually whenever you do pull pranks on him he's curious at first, then concerned, but in the end it all turns out right and you get the reaction you want much to suguru's dismay.

✧ it would be the first time doing this prank, the only times that you would not reciprocate his "i love you" was when you were truly mad, and his reactions never failed to make your heart beat uneasily.

✧ on rare occasions suguru responds playfully or teases you back, rarely. no matter what he says or does, you'll always end up with either reaction. 1. blushing messing + you melt into a puddle right there and then or 2. caught off guard by his once-in-a-blue-moon response.

—

suguru geto stands by the door, ready to leave for his next task. he finishes patting his clothes down. once he's done geto looks at you with those deep, black eyes, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

“i’m heading out. i love you,” he says, his voice soft and sincere.

you don't reply, opting to continue reading your book as you sit on your shared bed. the brief silence that follows feels longer than it is, and you can carefully take a sneak peek at your man, you notice the flicker of curiosity in his eyes, but he doesn't push.

instead, he maintains that warm, understanding gaze, showing that he’s aware of your schemes.

geto's smile remains, unwavering in its warmth. he takes a step closer, closing the distance between you with a kind of graceful ease. he sits himself down on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching out, fingers brushing gently against your cheek in a tender, reassuring gesture.

“it’s okay,” he says softly, his voice filled with genuine warmth and reassurance. “i’ll get that ‘i love you’ next time.”

there’s no trace of frustration in his expression, only deep patience. although you couldn't deny a hint of disappointment in his eyes.

geto’s hand lingers for a moment, his thumb softly tracing the contour of your cheek. you gawk at him, feeling his warm palms on your cheek and before you could speak he suddenly gets up and takes a step back, but not before giving you one last comforting smile.

“take care,” he adds, his tone gentle and full of affection.

as he turns to leave, you watch him go, feeling guilty. shit, now you feel bad. you hop out of bed, running out the door and into the living room where you spot geto just in front of the door.

"wait! suguru!" you catch up to him, gripping his sleeve with a guilty face. he turns around, raising his brow. "yes, what is it?" you waste no time in replying, feeling that if you didn't say it quick you'd upset him even more.

"i love you" you said, feeling a weight being lifted off your shoulder. you let out a sigh before thanking yourself internally. your eyes remain on geto's face, and so does he.

he smiles ever so tenderly before patting your head, leaving the top of your hair a bit messy, "and i love you more."

after pressing a gentle kiss on your temple he closes the door behind him with a soft click, but the warmth of his presence and his words linger in the air. you’re left standing there, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

choso

✧ the type to freak out. choso LOVES you to death, the thought of you losing feelings for him absolutely destroys him. he acts like a kicked puppy, and when you don't reciprocate his love he's already thinking about every possible thing that he could have done to wrong his beloved.

✧ but as time goes on he slowly but surely gets better at recognizing when you are and aren't joking, only this time he failed in detecting your prank.

✧ if you were to drag out the prank and continue to ignore him even after seating himself down beside you he MIGHT just cry.

—

choso is calm and collected as he slips his shoes on, ready to go to the gym. “i’m heading out, i'll be back in three hours or more. i love you,” he says, his voice soft and gentle.

a couple minutes before you decide to pull a little prank (to ignore your boyfriend), you bite back a smile and remain silent, pretending to be distracted by something on your phone. a brief silence hangs in the air, and choso’s brow furrows slightly.

he repeats himself, his voice still tender but with a hint of concern creeping in.

“i love you,” he says again, his eyes searching yours for any sign of acknowledgment.

you continue to act oblivious, and the more seconds that pass the more worried he gets. choso steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm, his touch warm but now slightly trembling with worry.

“hey, i love you,” he repeats for the third time, his voice now tinged with an edge of panic.

your silence continues, and choso’s eyes widen. his calm demeanour begins to crack, replaced by a semi-freaked-out expression. he steps even closer, his face a mix of confusion and worry.

“are you okay?” he asks, his voice urgent. “did I do something wrong? please, talk to me.”

your silence continues, and choso’s eyes widen. his calm demeanour begins to crack, replaced by a semi-freaked-out expression. he steps even closer, his face a mix of confusion and worry.

you can see the genuine panic in his eyes, and your heart aches at the sight. but you continue playing on, you look up at him looking clueless. "aren't you leaving? it's already 10 am."

choso sits down on the couch, his eyes scanning your face as he holds onto your hands. "i'm not going anymore." he replies before wrapping his arms around your waist, and placing his head on your lap.

you resist the urge to squish him to death at his cute actions but hold it back. "and why's that?" you questioned, running your fingers through his soft hair. he hums in satisfaction almost forgetting about his feelings before responding.

"you didn't say i love you back." his voice held such sadness your heart ached. "maybe because you did something wrong.." at your words he suddenly sat up, curious about what he had done wrong yet also full of regret.

"what did i do? how can i fix it? what—" deciding the prank has gone on long enough, you finally break into a smile and laugh softly.

“i’m just messing with you, choso. i love you too.”

relief floods his face, and he lets out a shaky breath, his shoulders relaxing. he gives you a look that’s a mix of exasperation and comfort at the fact that he didn't do anything wrong.

“you really had me worried there,” he sighed with mild reproach. “don’t do that again.”

he pulls you into a tight hug, holding you close as if to reassure himself that everything is alright.

"you still going to the gym?"

"no."

kento nanami

✧ oh this PAINS you to do this to YOUR MANNNN 😩😩

✧ he would be so persistent in asking what's wrong, nanami 100% knows that he didn't do anything wrong and even if he did he'd have you laughing in no time. you're his queen, his princess, his goddess. to see you upset let alone because of HIM? oh, he'd do anything to make you happy.

✧ the type to stay home with you until you explain what's wrong, groceries can wait (even if you did ask him to get some of your new cravings).

—

kento nanami loves you. some might even say that he loves you more than life itself (cough cough which is true cough cough). currently, he stood beside the entry door table, getting his keys.

"i'm going to get some groceries, do you want anything?" he asked, adjusting the watch on his wrist. you hummed softly, thinking for a bit. "noooo.. i'm good thank you." you replied, typing on your phone and doing whatever.

nanami pauses, looking over his shoulder at you with focused eyes. you look up from your phone and right back at him, ah, there goes that knowing look. a few seconds passed by before you finally replied.

"okay, fine. could i have some sweets? or dessert.. or maybe pickles with whipped cream?" for some odd reason your cravings have been intensifying, not that nanami minds. whatever his queen wants she will get.

nanami nods his head with a small smile, "sure." as he gets ready to leave for the grocery store he opens the door slightly. "alright i'm leaving now, i love you!"

"okay, bye!" you replied before remaining silent, fighting to keep a straight face. nanami pauses, his hand still on the doorknob. his brow furrows slightly, and a hint of concern flashes in his eyes. he’s not one to overreact, but he immediately senses that something might be off.

nanami turns back to you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assesses the situation. he looks down at his shoes for a second before letting out a sigh and closing the doors. he steps closer to you, his concern growing more apparent.

“is everything alright?” he asks, his voice calm but tinged with a subtle note of worry. “you didn’t respond.”

you cock your head to the side. "to what?" nanami takes a deep breath before gently repeating himself, hoping that you would reciprocate.

“i said, i love you,” he repeats, his tone slightly softer, almost coaxing.

your continued silence only deepens his concern. "i know... i said 'bye'" nanami narrows his eyes, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm in a gesture of reassurance.

“if something’s bothering you, we can talk about it,” he says, his voice low and earnest. “i don’t want to leave if something is wrong.”

you can see the genuine worry in his eyes, and it takes everything in you to keep from laughing. nanami’s grip on your arm tightens slightly, his concern palpable. his usual stoic demeanour is starting to crack under the weight of his worry for you.

“please just say something,” he implores, his voice almost desperate now. “i don’t want to leave like this. not when you're mad.”

you shake your head. "but i'm not mad, if anything i'm starving" which, was the truth, you were hungry. and nanami knew that, but your hunger had to wait just for a bit.

"i will leave right now if you say i love you back," he spoke, the pit of his stomach twisting. when you don't respond he lets out a sigh of defeat.

finally, you can’t hold it in any longer. you burst out laughing, the sound breaking the tense atmosphere. nanami’s eyes widen in surprise and then narrow as he realizes he’s been pranked.

“you’re joking?” he asks, “you gave me a fright.”

still laughing, you reach out and take his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “i’m sorry, i couldn’t resist. but your face is to die for!"

nanami lets out a deep breath, shaking his head with a half-smile. “you scared me,” he admits, pulling you into a small hug. “please, don’t do that again.”

you don't reply and instead, let out a soft hum. "can't promise you that but i'll try..." trying was more than enough. before he leaves he gives you one last affectionate glance over his shoulder. "i love you"

"i love you, too.” you replied with a smile, waving goodbye.

yuji itadori

✧ oh this poor baby..

✧ despite being an optimistic and cheerful person, the ache in his heart is too much to ignore when you ignore his "i love you" because he values deep connections!!!!

✧ he’ll initially try to brush it off with a smile, but deep down, he’ll wonder if he’s not enough for you.

—

yuji had never been one to keep his feelings bottled up. his heart was as open as his smile, and today, as he sat next to you on the porch, he decided to go for it.

"hey, [y/n], i love you!" he said, his voice full of warmth and sincerity, as though he were telling you it was sunny outside. he looked at you expectantly, waiting for your usual response—some playful tease, a smile, anything.

but you didn’t say anything.

he blinked, a bit confused at first, then shrugged it off with a nervous chuckle. “heh, okay, i get it, maybe not the right moment for the mushy stuff.” he scratched the back of his head, the awkwardness settling in.

but when you didn’t respond for a long stretch of time, yuji’s grin started to falter. he looked at you, then away, then back at you again, wondering if he had said something wrong. "did i do something wrong?" he tried, forcing a playful tone.

still nothing.

yuji’s face flushed slightly, his inner monologue starting to spiral. "come on, [y/n], you always joke around with me when i say stuff like that. why are you acting so quiet? i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything..." he trailed off, unsure of how to handle the sudden tension.

as the silence stretched, yuji shifted uncomfortably. his hand fumbled with the edge of his sleeve as he tried to laugh it off again, though it was shaky this time. "uh, i mean… i guess it’s not that big of a deal, right? just me being all dramatic. ha-ha… yeah, right."

you could see the strain in his smile. yuji wasn’t used to being ignored, especially not by you. you, who always welcomed his antics with your own brand of humor and lighthearted responses. he thought maybe this was a one-time thing—he had caught you off guard, or maybe you were busy—but as the minutes passed, that thought began to dissipate.

"you know," yuji finally said, his voice softening, "i didn’t mean to make things weird. i just... really care about you, that’s all."

you could feel the weight of his words, and for a split second, you almost felt bad for having stayed silent. but the thrill of playing with his emotions just a little bit longer was too sweet.

“so…” yuji glanced at you again, trying to gauge your reaction, but you remained calm, unfazed. “are you gonna say something back, or am i just gonna spend the rest of the afternoon trying to figure out what went wrong?”

you pretended to think about it for a moment. “maybe i just don’t feel the same way,” you teased, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

yuji’s eyes widened, and his heart nearly skipped a beat. “wait, seriously?” he gasped, his face a mixture of shock and disbelief.

but before he could panic, you finally looked at him, your expression barely holding back a laugh. “i’m messing with you, dummy,” you said, shaking your head with a grin.

yuji let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, slumping forward dramatically. "you really got me there," he muttered, though the smile that stretched across his face told a different story. “you’re lucky i love you so much, [y/n].” he flashed you a grin that was pure sunshine.

“i know,” you replied, rolling your eyes, but still enjoying the attention.

he nudged you playfully. “don’t worry, i’m used to your cruelty. but next time, i expect an 'i love you' back, alright?” he said, pretending to act tough but failing miserably as he laughed at himself.

“sure, sure,” you replied with a teasing wink. “maybe next time.”

yuji grinned, a little flustered but completely relieved. “good, because i’m not letting you off the hook so easy next time, okay?”

you simply laughed, and yuji, always the optimist, decided that, for now, this moment of playful confusion was just another chapter in the chaotic, fun relationship the two of you had.

megumi fushiguro

✧ now megumi is more reserved and usually doesn't express his feelings openly, so when he does say "i love you," it means a lot.

✧ if you ignore it, he’ll get quiet, almost too quiet, because he doesn’t know how to confront this vulnerability.

✧ stop tugging at his heart strings man

—

megumi wasn’t the type to express his feelings easily. he was reserved, often keeping his emotions tightly locked away behind a cool exterior. but every now and then, when the mood struck him—usually when he was feeling a little more vulnerable—he’d let his guard down.

today was one of those moments.

he glanced at you from the corner of his eye, then quickly away, his face flushing ever so slightly. “i… i love you,” he muttered, as though the words were a quiet confession meant to be heard only by the wind.

you didn’t say anything. you didn’t even acknowledge it at all. you just kept doing what you were doing—whether that was scrolling through your phone or staring off into the distance, pretending like you hadn’t heard a thing.

for a moment, megumi just stood there, completely unsure of how to react. his heart pounded in his chest, but he wasn’t one to show it. “okay, well, uh... you don’t have to say anything,” he mumbled, the awkwardness thick in his voice. he rubbed the back of his neck and awkwardly shifted from foot to foot. “i just thought you should know. you know, if you ever wondered or something.”

still no response.

“guess it’s not a big deal,” he added quickly, trying to mask the sting of embarrassment. “i wasn’t expecting a reply. you don’t have to do anything about it.”

he could feel his face burning now, wishing he could somehow sink into the ground and disappear. his usual cool, composed nature was slipping, and it was all because of you. you, who had a way of making him feel like a nervous teenager again, fumbling over words and unsure of himself.

but still, you didn’t say anything.

“yeah, i get it, okay?” he grumbled, trying to act like it didn’t bother him. “you don’t need to pretend like you didn’t hear me, though. i mean, it’s not like i’m asking you to do anything with that information. i just thought i should be honest for once.” he sounded more frustrated with himself than anything, and it was painfully obvious that he was starting to lose his patience with the silence.

“okay, fine, i get it,” he continued, trying to shake it off. “you’re probably busy or something. or maybe you just think i’m some dumb idiot, huh? it’s not like i don’t know that i’m not good with words.”

at this point, you couldn’t help but notice the hint of vulnerability in his tone. you knew he wasn’t the type to open up like this. he wasn’t the type to share his feelings unless it was important—so the fact that he had said it at all spoke volumes.

you shifted, finally looking up at him, catching the way his shoulders were stiff and his arms were crossed, as though he was trying to protect himself from the quiet embarrassment he was feeling.

but instead of offering any words of reassurance, you just smirked at him playfully. “what’s the matter, fushiguro?” you teased. “you want me to say it back or something?”

megumi blinked in surprise, clearly caught off guard. “wha—no! i don’t need you to say anything back!” he stammered, his face reddening even more. “i just thought you should—well, never mind.” he rubbed his face in frustration, clearly not knowing how to navigate this sudden whirlwind of emotions.

“relax, i’m just messing with you,” you said with a grin, leaning back in your chair. “i heard you. and i… i love you too, dumbass.”

megumi’s eyes widened, his initial surprise quickly turning into something more like relief. he didn’t know why he had expected anything less from you, but hearing you say it back, even in the simplest of ways, made his heart race.

“seriously?” he asked, still a little unsure.

“yeah, seriously,” you said with a playful wink. “but next time, maybe don’t make me wait for it, alright?”

megumi let out a quiet laugh, though it was tinged with embarrassment. “you really like messing with me, don’t you?”

you shrugged nonchalantly. “maybe a little,” you said with a grin, clearly enjoying the rare moment of playfulness between the two of you.

he sighed, but there was a softness in his gaze that he couldn’t hide. “you’re unbelievable,” he muttered, but there was a small, content smile tugging at his lips, one that didn’t reach his usual guarded expressions. in the end, he was just glad you understood him, even when he couldn’t quite find the words to express himself.

yuta okkutsu

✧ while kind and gentle, yuta is surpsingly sensitive to rejection. he’ll try to hide his disappointment with a soft chuckle, but it won’t take long for him to withdraw slightly.

✧ he’s always loved you quietly, and he’s hurt when his feelings are dismissed.

✧ puppy dog eyes.

—

yuta was usually pretty direct when it came to expressing his feelings, but there was something about saying "i love you" that always made him a little nervous. maybe it was because he wasn’t used to being this vulnerable, or maybe because he didn’t know what kind of response to expect from you. either way, he found himself sitting next to you, staring at his hands, trying to find the courage.

"uh, [y/n]?" yuta began, his voice soft and uncertain. his hands fidgeted in his lap as he tried to keep his cool. "i, um… i love you."

he looked at you expectantly, hoping to see a smile, maybe a giggle, but instead, you just kept looking straight ahead, like you hadn’t heard him at all.

yuta blinked, his face starting to heat up. he cleared his throat awkwardly, trying again. "i really do love you, you know… like, a lot." he paused, wondering if he should keep going, but when you still didn’t respond, he began to feel the weight of the silence press down on him.

"hey, c’mon, you’re not gonna leave me hanging, are you?" yuta chuckled nervously, leaning in slightly as though his words could reach you better. still, nothing.

his smile started to falter, and he looked down at his hands again, a little unsure of himself. "it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, but… well, i thought i should tell you." his voice trailed off, the quiet insecurity creeping in as his gaze shifted away from you.

but then, in a move that was so yuta, he decided to take another approach. his expression softened, and with the purest, most earnest eyes, he looked at you—eyes wide, sparkling, full of gentle sincerity. he wasn’t one to beg, but when yuta was desperate for your attention, he had no problem resorting to a little charm.

he gave you the puppy dog eyes.

you could see the way his lips slightly trembled with hope, the way he leaned toward you, almost as though trying to get into your line of sight. his eyes were impossibly large, and they glistened like he was pleading with you to notice him. it was like looking at an abandoned puppy, with that vulnerable little gaze that made it impossible to turn away from.

"please, [y/n]?" he asked in a soft, pleading voice, his tone as sweet as he could muster. "i really mean it. i love you. i just… i want you to know that."

the moment he flashed you that gaze, your heart melted. you couldn’t help it. no one could resist that face. his puppy dog eyes had a power all on their own, and there was no way you were going to leave him hanging any longer.

you let out a small chuckle, unable to keep a straight face. "yuta, you’re impossible," you said, your voice filled with amusement. "how can i resist when you look at me like that?"

his face lit up immediately, that cute blush spreading across his cheeks as he straightened up, looking at you in disbelief. "so… does that mean…?"

you leaned in and kissed him lightly on the cheek, just enough to tease him but not too much to give him all the satisfaction. "yeah," you whispered, "i love you too, dummy."

yuta’s face went bright red, his hand instinctively going to his cheek where you kissed him. “wait—really? you mean it?” he asked in shock, blinking rapidly as he processed the words.

“yeah,” you teased, “i wouldn’t say it if i didn’t mean it.”

yuta beamed, his hands flying to your shoulders as he pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your neck. “you’re the best, [y/n]. i swear, you’re the best.” his voice was muffled but full of warmth, and you could feel his happiness radiating off him.

you laughed softly, letting him cling to you for a moment longer. “just don’t expect me to give in so easily every time you do the puppy eyes thing,” you said with a grin, though you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell at the thought of him trying so hard.

“i can’t promise that,” yuta mumbled, still not letting go. “but i’ll try my best… just for you.”

ryomen sukuna

✧ being prideful and often sarcastic, would act like he doesn't care when you ignore his "i love you." but in reality, his ego is bruised.

✧ he’ll test you again and again, looking for the reaction that proves you care about him.

—

sukuna, the king of curses, was not a man who wasted his words. he wasn’t the type to confess his feelings or even acknowledge them, not in the way you might expect. to him, love was a game—something to toy with, something to use as a weapon. so when he looked at you and muttered those three words, it wasn’t out of any softness or tenderness. it was more like a challenge.

“i love you,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement, as though he was waiting for you to do something—anything—that would make him laugh or prove you were beneath him.

you glanced at him, your expression unreadable. you didn’t say anything, not right away. in fact, you didn’t react at all, just staring at him with the same calm indifference you always wore. you didn’t know if he was being serious or if he was just playing some cruel game. honestly, you didn’t care. he wasn’t the type to be vulnerable, and you certainly weren’t about to fall for his theatrics.

for a few moments, sukuna just watched you, his gaze intense, waiting for a reaction. he was used to people flinching when he spoke—used to people jumping at the sound of his voice, especially when he gave them such a sharp confession. he was the king of curses, after all. people bowed down to him. people feared him.

but you? you weren’t like the others.

he tilted his head, his smirk widening as he leaned in a little closer. “you heard me, didn’t you?” his voice was low, almost teasing, as though he was daring you to react. “or are you too busy pretending you don’t care?”

still nothing. you didn’t flinch, didn’t break your gaze. you just stared at him with that same indifference, your arms casually crossed. you were used to your boyfriend's antics.

sukuna let out a chuckle, the sound deep and rich, but there was a hint of annoyance beneath it. he liked playing with people’s emotions, but when it didn’t work—when you weren’t playing by his rules—it bothered him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

"you're testing me, aren't you?" he purred, his voice almost affectionate in its cruelty. "don’t think you can ignore me, [y/n]. i love you. you should be thrilled. or at least, show a little fear." he was practically taunting you now, testing the limits of your composure. he was expecting you to crumble, to panic. but you didn't.

you let out a soft sigh, and in that moment, it seemed like you were finally going to speak. sukuna’s grin widened, sensing your opening.

"what’s wrong, [y/n]?" he purred again, leaning in closer until you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “don’t tell me you’re speechless.”

you finally looked him dead in the eyes, breaking your silence, but your expression was still cool. "you’re pathetic," you said simply, your tone almost bored.

the words hit sukuna like a slap in the face. his grin faltered for just a second, the shock of your response hitting him harder than he expected. you weren’t afraid of him. you didn’t flinch. you didn’t look at him like he was some god to be revered.

"what did you say?" his voice was sharp now, almost predatory, as if you had just said something unforgivable.

"i said," you leaned forward, your voice just as smooth as his, "you’re pathetic. i’m not some prize to be won by your little confessions, sukuna. you don’t get to manipulate me with your words."

sukuna blinked, then let out a dark laugh. "you think i’m trying to manipulate you?" his voice had a dangerous edge to it now, but the gleam in his eyes wasn’t anger—it was amusement, pure and unfiltered. "no. i’m just playing with you. do you think i care about love? you’re the one who’s making this more complicated than it needs to be."

you narrowed your eyes at him, your face expressionless. "yeah, keep telling yourself that."

he chuckled again, the sound full of dark amusement. "you’re interesting, [y/n]. most people would’ve run away by now, but you? you’re still here, challenging me." he leaned back, his posture relaxing a little, but his gaze never wavered. "you think you can stand up to me? you think you’re immune to my games? maybe you’re more stubborn than i thought."

"i’m not immune to your games, sukuna," you said coolly. "i just don’t find them all that interesting."

his smirk returned, wider than before. "is that so?" he leaned even closer, until he was practically right in your face. "well then, i’ll just have to make things a little more... interesting for you."

before you could respond, his hand was on your chin, tilting your head slightly as he stared at you with a predatory gleam in his eye. "i love you, [y/n]," he repeated, this time with a slight edge to his voice, almost daring you to acknowledge him, to be the one to back down.

you didn’t. you held his gaze, unblinking.

sukuna chuckled darkly. "you really are something else."

"yeah, i know," you replied, unfazed. "but you’re still pathetic."

he shook his head, a strange mixture of admiration and frustration swirling in his eyes. "maybe i’ll let you believe that," he said, his tone still playful, "but don’t get too comfortable. you won’t be able to resist forever."

"we’ll see about that," you shot back, your voice steady, defiant. "i’m not like the rest of them."

sukuna leaned back, that same dark smile playing across his lips. "no, you’re not." he eyed you thoughtfully, as if sizing you up for the next move in his endless game.

he loved this. he loved the chase. and you? well, you had just become the most interesting puzzle he’d ever encountered.

toji fushiguro

✧ are you trying to wind up dead???? (genuinenly...)

✧ if you even IGNORE his words or requests he's fuming, so you ignoring his rare once-in-a-lifetime "i love you" is basically a death sentence.

✧ this man loves you to death but seriously!! the one time he says it you ignore it???!

✧ if you ignore his i love you, he'll get frustrated. he’ll mask it with a smirk, but his temper will flare behind closed doors.

—

toji fushiguro, the man who had never known what it was like to be loved, wasn’t exactly one for sentimental confessions. his whole life had been built on strength, survival, and distance from emotion. love? a weakness, something that would drag him down.

so, when toji muttered “i love you,” it wasn’t with the soft warmth of someone who had spent their life yearning for affection. no, toji said it like it was a fact, like something so trivial he could’ve shrugged it off at any moment.

“i love you,” he said flatly, his eyes briefly flicking to you, then back to the ground. his voice wasn’t laced with sweetness or hesitation—it was just there, like he was announcing something as simple as the weather.

you blinked, staring at him for a moment, trying to figure out if you’d heard him correctly. there was no teasing in his tone, no softness. it was a straightforward statement, like he was telling you it was going to rain tomorrow.

you didn’t respond right away. you didn’t know how to respond. toji was the kind of guy who didn’t care much for words. you knew he wasn’t big on the whole emotional thing, but this felt… different. the words hung in the air for a few beats, lingering in the space between you two like an awkward silence.

when you didn’t answer, toji’s brows furrowed, his expression briefly flashing with annoyance. he turned to you, his usually intense gaze softening for just a fraction of a second. “what? didn’t hear me?”

you shook your head, almost playing along. “no, i heard you,” you said nonchalantly, keeping your voice cool. “just wasn’t sure if you were joking or being serious.”

toji’s face remained impassive, but his jaw tightened slightly, like he was holding back something. “i don’t joke about that kinda stuff, [y/n].” his voice was lower now, a little more serious, and you could see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes—something you didn’t often see from him.

you tilted your head slightly, narrowing your eyes at him. “huh, really? you’re not messing with me? that’s rare for you.”

toji sighed, clearly frustrated by your nonchalance. “look, i’m not the type to waste time on crap like this, alright?” he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly trying to keep his cool. “but yeah, i said it. i love you. don’t go getting all weird on me now.”

you just stared at him, not saying anything, but your lips twitched upward in amusement. toji was never this flustered. he was used to being in control, used to throwing people off balance, but now, he was the one off-balance. he had no idea how to handle this. it was cute, in a weird way.

when you didn’t immediately respond, toji let out a grunt, almost like he was trying to brush it off. “don’t make me repeat myself, alright?” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “just... don’t go getting all mushy or something. i’m not that type of guy.”

you finally couldn’t hold back the small smile, finding his discomfort endearing. “you’re a lot more complicated than you let on, toji,” you teased.

he shot you a look, his expression hardening again, but it was clear he wasn’t mad. in fact, there was a flicker of fondness in his eyes, though he’d never admit it. “don’t start messing with me,” he warned in that gruff voice of his, but his tone didn’t match the words. it was like a challenge more than a threat.

“who, me? never,” you said with a playful wink, still not backing down. “but seriously, you’re telling me you love me, and then you don’t want me to get all weird? what, do you expect me to act like nothing just happened?”

toji scowled, clearly feeling a bit caught off guard by how easily you were handling this. he wasn’t used to being vulnerable, but here you were, making him spill his emotions without even flinching. “fine, whatever,” he muttered, his arms crossing tighter as if to shield himself from the weird situation. “you got your answer. no need to make a big deal out of it.”

you leaned in a little closer, your smile turning a little more teasing. “oh, no, I’m not making a big deal out of it,” you said. “but don’t think I didn’t hear you. you’re stuck with me now, toji.”

toji looked at you, that usual smirk of his returning, though it was laced with something more genuine than before—something closer to affection than his usual cocky arrogance. he wasn’t about to admit that he was glad you didn’t freak out. “yeah, yeah. whatever you say,” he grumbled. “but don’t go thinking you can get all sappy on me just ‘cause i said it. i’m still not gonna hold your hand in public or some shit like that.”

“oh, I’m not asking for that,” you replied smoothly, eyes glinting with mischief. “but you’ll have to carry me once in a while. you know, just to show me you care.”

toji snorted, looking at you with a half-amused, half-exasperated expression. “as if i’m gonna carry you around like some damn princess,” he scoffed. “but whatever. guess you’ll just have to deal with me.”

“deal with you?” you raised an eyebrow. “toji, i’m the one who’s stuck with you now.”

his lips twitched into a smirk. “maybe,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, “but it’s a two-way street, sweetheart. you think you’re gonna get away without me making you suffer through some of my dumb shit?”

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms and giving him a playful look. “bring it on, toji. i’m not afraid of you.”

toji shook his head, the faintest hint of a smile still on his lips. “you’re gonna regret saying that one day,” he muttered, though there was no real heat behind the words. “but for now… yeah, i guess you’re alright.” he shrugged, not quite admitting it, but it was clear he didn’t mind your company—vulnerable confessions and all.

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