Untitled

——

You remember being laid across your bed, phone in hand as you yapped away to a new friend of yours. Now, you and this friend got along because he was the complete opposite of Sukuna. He didn’t threaten you over petty things, didn’t curse you out and call you mean nicknames, and most importantly, he wasn’t batshit crazy.

While you were busy half-listening to your friend’s voice on the line, you began to smell the faint scent of something acrid. The smell made your face scrunch up, nose crinkling as your brows furrowed and you glanced around your room. You thought that maybe you could’ve left the stove or oven on somehow, even though you don’t remember turning either of those things on..

The scent reminded you of burnt toast if it was intensified to the third degree so, clearly something was burning.

“Are you even listening to me…?” The man on your phone grumps. You could practically picture the pout on his lips, “Hellooo?”

Shaking out of what’s got your expression shifting, “Yeah-, yes, I’m here,” You replied hurriedly, “Sorry, Satoru, gimme a second.” You end up telling him as that smell from the first floor of your home began to grow stronger.

The whole thing was making you very uneasy and it didn’t take much for you to feel the panic seeping up into your veins as you slipped out of your bed and went rushing towards your door. As soon as you opened it, you were smacked in the face with clouds of thick, black smoke that made you cough, bringing one hand up to cover your nose as you ducked and walked out into the wall of heat coating your home’s air.

“You alright over there?” Gojo had asked you, having heard your coughs and even catching a faint crackling as the phone picked it up into the call.

Between another cough, “Yeah, m’fine,” You say jokingly, “My house is just on fire.”

“What??” He gasps, taking in the full severity of the situation, “Shouldn’t you be calling the cops or something?”

You’re leisurely making your way down the hall with your nose still covered and your body slightly hunched over so you don’t inhale too much smoke. This isn’t the first time a certain someone has set something of yours on fire so you suppose that’s why you’re more annoyed than you are scared as you make your way to the edge of your staircase.

Standing there, you lean into the phone a little more. “Yeah, I’m getting to it…” You tell Gojo, easing your way down the steps to peak around the corner and see that the fire is much bigger than what you were expecting.

Again, this isn’t the first time that “best friend” of yours went setting shit on fire in your house. But, this is the first time he set your actual house aflame. Your eyes widen and all that casualty you previously had died inside you as big, wild flames pop and crackle with heat from your living room.

“Oh shit,” You gasped, “S-Satoru, I’ll call you back.”

“Are you oka—“ Before he could even finish, you were hanging up and moving with shaky fingers to dial the police.

And somewhere under all those flames, you swore you heard laughing. Sick, maniacal, and twisted laughter—a sound of which you’d come to recognize anywhere.

Everything that happens after that is one big ugly blur of events. Such an innocent night had turned into something foul all because you’d called Gojo one of your best friends earlier in the day. You don’t even know how the fuck Sukuna got wind of that comment but low and behold, he was the one who set your living room on fire.

The cops were called shortly after you’d discovered the flames and you remember having to be transported out safely in the arms of one hulky blonde fireman, who Sukuna then tried to attack before he was swiftly arrested and pinned to the ground by policemen.

Outside of your home, the two of you had argued back and forth from a distance while they worked cuffs over his wrists. You don’t remember the details of what you’d shouted at him as most of what you spewed was in anger but you do still picture the crazed smile the man had on his face every time you said something especially vicious to him. That was exactly why he liked you so much–, or rather, liked being your friend so much.

Sukuna always adored how you never let him walk all over you, even after he’d literally burnt a part of your house down. 

Somewhere between him getting arrested and that sweet blonde fireman—who’s name you noted as Nanami—Sukuna happened to see a gently clothed hand cleanse your face from the few ashes that’d covered your features. The only thing you heard was a snap as he’d broken out of the cuffs and launched himself forward.

It was an even bigger mess from then on.

You barely remember seeing that poor fireman get punched in the face, to which you jumped up, went swinging at Sukuna and… yeah, it was bad. Really bad.

It took multiple police officers and firefighters to pry the two of you off of one another. Well, more like to pry you off of him. You’d landed multiple blows to his face and quickly caused his nose to bleed but, the thing about that entire altercation that had you livid was the fact that he was smiling throughout each second of it.

This was another thing that wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to do. You’d done almost everything under the sun towards one another within the past ten years that you were acquainted—which yes, includes fighting one another. Though, the fighting in question mostly consisted of you hitting him and Sukuna just taking it.

He may have been crazy in every other field imaginable but he'd, surprisingly, never hit a woman. Especially not you.

While you'd been beating up on the man and just before the officers had pulled you two apart, you do remember one more little detail that still manages to cling to your mind to this day.

It was just as an officer had shouted something along the lines of, "Stop right there!" that you recall the glint in Sukuna's eyes dimming and the way his smug smirk flickered. It seemed like reality had finally settled back into his head for a moment and even though you still had a partially bloodied fist hoisted up, ready to land on his face again, you swear that second stretched out longer than it should've before his voice came out ever so softly.

"Fun's over, huh?" Sukuna had whispered to you, as if he somehow knew and fully expected this to be his last moment seeing you. He understood that he was going to jail for all this but that wasn't exactly his biggest concern.

His main thing here was that he had to accept the fact that you probably hate him now—

"Fuck you." You spat, finally, before he could even finish his thought.

If the pill wasn't a tough one to swallow previously, it damn sure was then.

You were pulled off of him seconds later and he was dragged away—this time towards the back of a police car—and although there was something distant and somber about the way his eyes still lingered on you and that same fireman who came to help you, he kept those two words of yours in the forefront of his mind.

After all, it was the last thing you'd said to him.

“Are you okay?” Nanami ended up asking you as he stepped impossibly closer and was quick to tend to you as if his condition wasn't worse off. Concern was etched all into his features but, even though you heard him, your eyes were busy fixed onto Sukuna.

You managed a nod and felt the man's hands reach for yours to clean the blood off of them. You should've been able to take your eyes off of the same guy who literally just set your house on fire and then proceeded to attack someone just for helping you.

And yet, there you were, letting Nanami's smooth suggestion of, "Let’s get you checked out,” flow through one ear and out the other.

Even as he gently pulled you away from the scene, your mind was one big mess of confliction. You're supposed to hate Sukuna now, obviously. He was insane!

But... he's always been that way and somehow, you've always forgiven him for it. Maybe it was because there was more good with him than there was bad. Or perhaps it was because he was the only man you knew could match your crazy.

Part of you wanted to go and fight for Sukuna's freedom after the whole ordeal, y'know, that really delusional and stupid part of you. And the other half of you knew that the sensible thing to do here was to leave him where he was. Maybe a couple years in jail would do him some good.

Right?

——

That was five years ago from now, where your home has since been repaired and free of the violent crimes of which your ex-best friend committed against you.

Luckily, you listened to the logical half of your brain and went against fighting for his freedom or contacting him at all, no matter how many times you found yourself missing him.

These days you try to convince yourself that you don't even think about him as much but, every time you bring a new guy into your life it just feels weird or, something feels like as though it were crawling up your spine. Especially if you tried to talk to someone romantically.

You'd always experience this odd lump of guilt eating away at you and it made you feel strange considering the fact that you should feel free of Sukuna's control over you and who you date. You'd been in relationships before he was locked up, after all.

Even though most of them ended in the weirdest ways...

You remember how one guy told you how he didn't want to die just for dating you. At the time you laughed it off, thinking he was being dramatic, but looking back on it now... perhaps Sukuna had something to do with it?

There was also the time a guy completely ghosted you just a few days after you'd both admitted you were in love with one another. You don't know what that was all about but, again, looking back on it now...

To take your mind off of the man you're not supposed to be thinking about, you end up fishing for your remote after plopping down on your living room couch. The TV soon flicks on and you shove all thoughts of your ex-best friend into the very back of your mind where he belongs.

He's exactly where he's supposed to be now anyway; rotting in a cell somewhere.

On a brighter note, for the past five years straight you've been living your best life. For the most part, anyway.

You and that nice blond fireman got closer through the years and he often comes over to your house to give you some company after you'd explained how Sukuna was your closest friend years ago. You know Nanami visits you out of pity but, you never exactly reject him.

The only unfortunate thing about that situation is the fact that every time he flirts with you, you can't find it in yourself to reciprocate. There's nothing wrong with him and he'd be a good fit for you, truly. The issue here is that you can't ignore how wrong you feel when you're with him.

He could be doing nothing more than sitting on your couch watching TV with you and yet you felt as though you had Sukuna's eyes burning into the very back of your skull—watching, judging, daring. There was even a time you and Nanami tried kissing. He wasn't bad at it and neither were you, something was just wrong about it and you didn't know what it was.

Perhaps Sukuna had unconsciously conditioned you into some sort of deep rejection towards anyone that wasn't him and you hadn't realized it.

Things only became clear for you when the same thing happened with Gojo. Who you tried going on dates with, tried to let spoil you, and even tried sleeping with. All of which failed miserably, especially that last little act. You'd felt off the entire time, so much so that you don't even think you were turned on.

Which was crazy to think about considering he's Gojo Satoru! It's not like you weren't into him.

He'd treated and touched you better than any guy ever had before—as did Nanami—but maybe that was the problem. Maybe you didn't want something that was smooth and gentle with you. Maybe you needed the craziness you only knew to come with the asshole sitting in prison right now.

Or at least... the asshole that was sitting in prison.

The moment your TV finally turns on, there's a news report playing that instantly snatches up your attention and makes every vein in your body run cold. The report ahead explains how a man who'd been convicted for arson had recently escaped prison and has been on the run for at least three days now.

You swallow thickly and your eyes quickly flock around to various corners of your house. Three days? Logically speaking—and not like you looked this up before or anything but—that's about the same amount of time it would take for him to get to your house on foot...

You turn back to your TV and sink further into your couch, turning the volume up to listen intently to the rest of the report before you drive yourself insane. The fugitive could be anyone after all. Arson is a pretty common crime to commit, isn't it?

"—The man is said to be at least six feet tall with pink hair, dark red eyes, and tattoos all over his face," The woman on your screen adds on suddenly before a mugshot pops up just a few inches away from her.

Aaaand fuck, it's him.

You immediately shoot up from your seat and start rushing around your house to make sure all the doors are locked and that every window is shut tightly. Hell, you even consider bordering up all exits and entryways.

The sound of your heart racing in your chest thumps all the way up against your eardrums as you fight with the increasing sensation of paranoia rising within you. You move all throughout your home, slamming doors shut and double-checking each lock with slightly trembling hands.

You hate how all it took was one little report to have you all anxious and thinking about him again. It's been five years. Maybe you saw the report wrong, maybe it was about that younger, identical nephew of his...

No, no, that doesn't even make sense. He was just a kid the last time you saw him and from what you remember, he wants to be nothing like his crazy ass uncle.

Fuck.

Over six feet tall, pink hair, dark red eyes, tattoos all over his face... Only one person fits that description and you know it.

Fuck.

You saw his face too, you can't just ignore that and try to convince yourself it isn't him.

The news is still playing off in the background, echoing throughout the walls of your house almost hauntingly now as you struggle to ignore the punctuating reality of Sukuna no longer being behind bars.

"He's not coming here," You mutter to yourself, despite the suddenly pounding memories of him flooding right back into the forefront of your mind.

Fuck.

It's been five years, there's no way he's going to escape from prison just to come torment you again. Or worse, to come get revenge from you not coming to see him all this time...

Then again, if you still can't help but think about him in moments where you really shouldn't be, he's probably been doing the same thing. Hell, you're probably the only thing on his mind right now.

Something in your chest throbs at the mere idea. You don't know why that invoked such a physical reaction from you, it's not like you've ever liked the guy or anything like that.

Aside from the first few years of your friendship when you had the biggest crush on him.

But that was fifteen years ago, feelings like that don't linger this long. Feelings like that shouldn't linger for this long, not after he's burned down a quarter of your house and has been sent off to jail for it.

For a moment you consider dialing the police but, what exactly would they do aside from send an officer or two out to your house for the night? Your phone is in your hands now and all you're doing is staring at the screen with a million thoughts in your head.

You can't call the police, that'd just end in another big brawl between you and Sukuna before he's arrested again and, unfortunately, the last thing you feel like doing is fighting anymore. You don't think you have the energy for that, especially not this late into the night. So, you end up pocketing your phone and instead head back to your living room.

Up until you hear a sudden thud from somewhere behind your house.

Your heart sinks into your ass and you freeze. Straining your ears to catch more sounds, you slowly turn on your heels and creep back towards your kitchen. The floorboards beneath your steps creak softly but you swear you hear a distance set of steps creeping around as well.

Yet, when you stop, the sound stops as well.

So perhaps you were just driving yourself insane?

Yeah, that's probably it. It's been five whole years, Sukuna would not spend all that time thinking about you and then turn around and come back to the same woman who got him thrown into jail. He's crazy but he's not that crazy.

Taking one more stretchy moment to let the silence linger on, you release a long sigh and pace into your kitchen. Just in case, you still want to have a weapon on you in the event that your delusions turn out to be true.

Right before you reach the knives, the sound of your house phone ringing like something out of a cliche slasher movie cuts through the air and easily scares the shit out of you.

Flinching, you hurry over to it and scramble about to get the phone into your hands properly, quickly lifting it up to your ear. "Hello?" You call out with a slightly shaky voice.

At first there's no sound, just static. Which, of course makes you want to hang up.

You've never been a fan of scary shit and the only person who knows that about you is Sukuna. So if the creepy silence was telling you anything, it's that it was definitely him—

"Hey, have you seen the news?" Gojo's voice rings out to you after one too many deafening seconds of eerie silence.

With a heavy sigh of relief, you almost smile into the phone. Thank God it's just him. "Yeah," You reply half-breathily, "Of course I saw it."

There's a slight sound of shuffling over the phone and you think you hear keys for a moment, "Do you want me to come over? Y'know, just in case that maniac shows up?"

You're shaking your head before speaking, "No, no, you don't have to do all that, Satoru. I'm fine-, it's fine."

"You don't sound fine..." He points out.

You roll your eyes for a moment, hating how well he's gotten to know you over the past few years. Leaning against your kitchen counter a little, you glance over at the knives just a few inches away from you, "How do I sound then?"

Gojo scoffs harmlessly, "Shaken up."

You're quiet for a moment and within it, it's almost like your breathing is echoing around you. Ignoring the intensified sound, you shake your head and shut your eyes for a second to ground yourself, "I'm fine, really."

The man over the phone lets out a long hum and you could almost hear the skeptical look on his face, "I'd be over in fifteen minutes top, y'know... I just-"

"Satoru," You cut off gently, "Seriously, I'm okay. I... I know how to handle myself and I doubt he's even coming here. It's been three whole days after all. He's probably on the other side of the country by now."

"Right..." Gojo trails off for a moment before shrugging, even though you can't see it. "Well, if you're sure. Just uh," He clicks his tongue slightly and leans into the phone, voice getting a little louder against your ear, "Call me if you need anything."

"I will, I will." You promise, "Goodnight, Satoru. A-And don't call my house phone anymore, you scared the shit out of me."

He chuckles, "Sorry, you weren't picking up your cell so I got a little worried. But, yeah, goodnight, sweetheart."

You place the house phone back into its original place and the call ends there. Your hand lingers on top of the phone for a bit before you slowly slide your touch away and let your shoulders relax.

All the tension that'd been there just a moment ago has died down a little and you feel calmer now.

See? Everything is perfectly fine.

But, it wouldn't hurt to grab one of those knives just in case...

Fishing through the knife holder, you eventually pluck one up and bring it closer to you for inspection. You let the blade's end tap against your finger softly to make sure it's sharp, not exactly cutting yourself but just checking it out. Then, you breathe out another sigh as if to steady yourself again.

You had a weapon and you could call up Gojo if anything else went sideways so, everything was okay.

Just as you turn around, that last little thought of yours is practically fucked out of your head violently. There's a tall, brooding frame of a man standing a few feet away from you inside of your kitchen, the sight of him enough to make your entire body flinch with a physical force strong enough for you to drop the knife you just picked up.

You shoot down for the weapon you dropped and scramble it back up into your hands before rising up to your feet again, seeing that the man who'd just scared you hasn't moved an inch.

As your breath remains uneven and weighted with fear, the male inside your house is standing there with that signature smile of wickedness plastered all over his face. Cocking a thick pink brow, which you notice has two slits in one them, "'Sweetheart', huh?" He drawls, voice all dense with a baritone that fills every inch of the space between you both.

Your eyes are wide and frantic, running over every bit of your ex-best friend standing before you, trying to figure out whether or not this is real or just some fucked up nightmare. His hair, that same bright pink you know it to be, is all unkempt and wild atop his head as his eyes, low-lidded and dark, steadied onto yours.

"What the hell are you doing here?" You hiss out slowly, sounding unsure in your own tone given the abundant sense of unease inside you.

You watch his lower, rose-toned lip get pulled in between his teeth at the mere sound of your voice before his head angles to the side in slow motion. Then he lets his crimson eyes drag up and down the expanse of your frightened frame and swallows up every inch of you with his gaze alone. It's only been a few seconds and you felt as though you were shrinking under him already, despite the distance between you.

Sukuna's voice carries out with the same rasp that never fails to drive you insane, "Awh, come now," He coos with a pout of mocking smearing across his face for a moment, "Is this any way to greet your best friend? Pointing a knife at me as if it hasn't been years since we've last seen one another."

Your eye twitches in annoyance, "You set my fucking house on fire!"

He visibly reacts to the elevation in your tone with a rise of his brows and a slight adjustment backwards as if you'd pushed at him. "Surely you're not still mad about that," He purrs lowly before taking a small step forwards and ignoring the blade you have aimed his way.

You shift backwards but you merely meet the counter and realize you'd have to run left or right if you wanted to escape him. That, and most of the exits are somewhere behind him.

"You need to leave," You breathe hotly, "Get out before I call the cops again or I swear to—"

"Call the cops again?" Sukuna scoffs loudly and his next step closer makes the floor groan distantly under his bulky frame, "You think they can keep me locked up forever? I escaped once, I can do it again." Now he's only a few more steps away from you and you've yet to pry yourself away from your spot.

You hate how you can hardly move under his gaze, as if you'd been put under some type of spell or something, your body condemned to stay in place.

"And do you know where I'll come once I do?" He adds on slowly, sneaking nearer until he's only one step away from your personal space. "Right," The distance lessens as he takes that final step, "Back," Sukuna extends an arm out and you feel it brush against your side as he places his hand on the counter behind you, his lips grazing your ear now, "To you." he finishes off in a chilling whisper.

You fall impossibly quieter and he pulls away from your ear just to meet eyes with you, leaving you there to stare up at him with years of and years of emotions floating around your gaze. You wanted to say something, anything, but the only thing you could manage was a subtle twitch of your lips. To which he took as an opportunity to fill the silence.

Tone almost vulnerable if you listened hard enough, "I just wanted to see you," Sukuna admits, almost like he'd missed you or something.

Your grip on that rather useless knife of yours tightens, as does the feeling in your chest. You're standing face to face with him now, halfway trapped between his large body and the counter behind you.

And as if to unintentionally ruin the moment, his eyes sink further along your frame, drinking in your lack of a response to him and instead letting his expression color itself in amusement as he leans down to you and whispers, “You look good.”

The heated, “Fuck you.” that pours past your lips is instantaneous. You didn't even have to think about the words before uttering them, nor do you regret saying them to him in such a distasteful tone.

Sukuna hums somewhere deeply in his throat and draws himself back just a bit, “That’s what I’m here for, brat.”

You blink, “What?”

“Don’t you remember?" He continues, eyes studying every curve and twitch in your face as if he'd forgotten how expressive you could be. "All those years ago, that’s what you asked me to do, isn’t it?”

Your lashes are batting with perplexity now, “I didn’t ask you to do shit-”

“Well, that is the last thing you said to me.” He cuts off quickly. Then his hand moves off of the counter behind you and you instinctively draw your knife up, the tip of the blade tickling his chin and causing his head to tip back some. There's a faint hitch in his breath as he's caught off guard ever so faintly.

Testingly, your eyes remain vexing and pointing upwards on his, “So?”

His hand carefully reaches your wrist and his fingers curl around it, his touch a sense of gentleness you've never felt from him before. Sukuna was touching you as if you were made of some kind of porcelain—liable to break at any given moment. Which, naturally, had you even more pissed off. It lets you know that five years away from you did nothing but make him think he'd left you all fragile and on the edge of breaking or something.

“Are you really gonna sit there and act like you didn’t miss me all this time?" The fugitive questions further, voice an annoying cadence of softness. It was so out of character for him that it made you feel even more uneasy standing in front of him.

Something wasn't right here.

“I didn’t," You claim as if you hadn't spent over half of those five years doing exactly that.

“Mh," Sukuna hums again and this time his lips twitch back up into that usually smug smile, voice dropping, "Yeah? Is that what helps you sleep at night?”

To combat with his never ending smugness, you try to appear as nonchalant about it as you can and drag out your little white lie some more, “Yup.”

“Tch.” He's quickly irritated by that one word threading past your lips with such indifference, “So I set your house on fire one time and now all of a sudden ten years of friendship don’t mean shit to you?” He asks.

The statement itself was almost more concerning than the fact that he'd done that to you. You'd think five years in confinement would help a person think over their actions and actually consider the wrong in their crimes but apparently Sukuna Ryomen wasn't prone to such a thing.

“You tried to kill me, asshole.” You remind him for the nth time.

He talks half a step away from you and chuckles, “I’d never do something like that and you know it. If that fire had hurt you that day, I’d never forgive myself for it.” Sukuna claims in a weirdly endearing way.

You hate how that makes your chest do that weird clenching thing again, as if his words still had an honest affect on you after all this time. Somewhere distantly in your mind, you were screaming at yourself about how you should've called the police on him again when you had the chance, while you were still somewhat in your right mind. But now it was too late, you were already wrapped around his finger tightly with no desire to unravel yourself from him.

Before you can manage out another jab, he ends up bringing one of those large hands of his up to his sharpened jawline and then runs his palm over it carefully, gaze drooling out an emotion you don't care to acknowledge right now, “And I meant what I said,” He whirs, “You look good.”

Finally rolling your eyes elsewhere, “You shouldn’t be here.” You deflect.

Sukuna obviously doesn't move, “You’re not telling me to leave.”

“You need to.”

“Do you want me to?” He retorts, taking the following long second of silence as a decent enough response from you, “Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

After which you allow yourself a moment to finally take the sight of him in. He's not as close as he was before which is somewhat helpful to your buzzing nerves but... fuck, he got even hotter within the time he's been gone.

Sukuna's always been tall but you swear he's grown a few more inches. All his features are sharper and more defined as if he hadn't let a day go by without properly taking care of himself, despite being locked away for so long. His body is staggering more so now than ever before as he stands in front of you clad in nothing more than a crisp white T-shirt and the rest of his prison jumper sitting low on his hips.

Now, this shouldn't be as distracting as it is but, as soon as you look down you can't help the way your eyes widen at the sight of the slightest sliver of smooth skin peeking out from the space between his lower abdomen and his pelvis. That bright orange fabric was way too low on his hips and you're sure he was aware of it too.

The toned V-line of his was adorned with trails of teasing veins that led to something you swore yourself up and down you didn't want to think about at all. But of course, it's hard not to think about it when you see that heavy tent in his crotch. You always knew Sukuna was... packing but, most times when you'd acknowledged it, you tried to shove the thought away just as quickly as it came.

It's a little hard to do that now when he's standing right in front of you watching you watch him. You don't even realize the way your eyes all but linger there as your lips part and a soft breath ghosts past them.

Then you're speaking your mind without thinking first, “You got… bigger.”

Your eyes are still glued to that outline of something bulky in his pants just before you hear him scoff at your shamelessness and force yourself to look up again. Sukuna's eyes look hungrier now. Shit, that wasn't your intention at all. You're should be kicking him out of your house right now-

“That’s what five years in a cell does to someone, woman," The man drawls, voice a pitch lower already.

One little moment of taking in his appearance and he was already feeling the effect you had on him. Moving your gaze away from his starved one, you resort to studying his now folded arms and how hefty they are tucked over his even broader chest. The tattoos across his skin still seemed as fresh as ever, almost as if not a day had ever gone by.

Clearing your throat and ignoring how hot you start to feel when your mind flashes an image of those same arms around you, “F-Five years in that cell and you still can’t even address me by my-” You're cut off when he looms closer all of a sudden, causing your stammered words to die out in your throat somewhere. He's mute as he draws close and then cranes his head down to your neck, inhaling you sharply. “...What are you doing?” You ask slowly, heart beginning to do that loud thumping thing again.

“You smell like another guy,” Sukuna utters a few inches away from your skin. It was almost as though he could see the scent of someone else on you before he even leaned in like that.

It gave you chills.

Trying to laugh his actions off again, you end up reaching a free hand up to his chest to try and lightly push him away, “What are you, a dog?”

“Woof," wisps out of his lips in a half-joking manner but with the way it slathers against your skin before the tip of his nose replaces the sensation as he zeros in on your neck, you're left struggling with a million and one emotions.

“The fuck…?” You whisper to yourself.

He only chuckles at your reaction, finding it rather cute, “Is that what I have to be to get in your good graces again?" Sukuna asks as his face adjusts to your neck and his teeth graze you, "Some kind of mutt?"

"No," You scoff, "Y-You're never getting in my good graces again." Your hand pushes at him again but even he could tell you don't mean anything by the gesture. Especially considering how you finally place your knife down somewhere behind you.

To which he smiles knowingly, "Oh yeah?"

"...Yeah," You manage out softly, turning your head to try and see what exactly he's doing.

"You don't sound so confident," Sukuna utters into your skin as if to let his words tattoo themselves into the area.

And hey, maybe you didn't sound confident because you weren't. So instead of searching for something new to say to him in response, you fall back on the same thing you've been saying to him for as long as you can remember. Angling your head elsewhere as you scoff a neatly said, "Fuck you."

"You keep saying that," He replies quickly while steadily gliding his head away from your neck and lifting. It's then that you're made well aware of how close he is to you now. Such little distance remains from his face to yours and all it would take is a short lean downwards for his lips to be against yours if either of you wished it so, "And I'm starting to think you want me to." He finishes off bluntly.

You blink out of your temporary daze just then, "What?"

"Fuck you," Your ex-best friend half-way clarifies, "It seems like you want me to fuck you."

"You-," Your words pause whilst your lashes flutter over one another, mind troubling itself trying to wrap around the audacity he seemed to carry after all this time. "You can't set my house on fire, go to jail for it, and then come back to me years later and try to sleep with me," You remind the man as you carry your stern gaze back up onto his, "Time does not equate to an apology, asshole."

Sukuna cocks a brow and bites back a laugh at the sound of that, "Is that what you need from me? A measly little apology?"

You scoff, "No, I don't need one from you but it would be nice-"

"I'm sorry." He says frankly, "Now, what else can I do to make up for it, hm?" His other hand presses behind you and you're trapped between both of his bulky arms before you even realize it, his voice dropping a tone and making the moment all the more intimate, "One thousand, eight hundred, and twenty nine days in which I have not seen nor heard from you and yet," You watch as his head tilts slowly and his eyes cascade down to the curve of yours lips, "You expect me to pry myself away from you?"

"Sukuna," You whisper, feeling almost suffocated in the lack of space between the two of you. Every fiber of his being was swallowing you up by the second and yet no matter how consuming it all felt, you couldn't find it in yourself to want to pull away.

You're unsure why his name even tiptoes past your lips like that when you carry no sort of argument against him any more. Sure, you should hate him now-, you think you still do but, it's hard to consider those emotions when he's so close.

Then his voice sinks another octave and your knees are feeling weak as his words exit him with something sinfully heated behind them, "I have missed you, achingly, for years," Sukuna claims, leaving you intoxicated in everything that pertains to him all over again. The tip of his finger meets your chin and forces your head further up, both of you now looking at the same thing now. "Yet you deny me. Why?" He questions.

You swallow thickly, as if that would lessen your nonexistent will to escape him, "You tried to kill me..." Your voice is meek and you hate every second of it, "Y-You set my house on fire."

The man fights with the smile that nearly broadens itself across his lips, "You remain unharmed."

"What about my home, Sukuna?" You ask in return, seeing as that is the most important thing here second to your well-being. Your tone is a little more sturdy now and he catches onto it, the sound making that undesirable glint in his irises return.

"It has been repaired, I see," He points out comically. After which his hand shifts and he holds the entirety of your jaw in his palm, thumb caressing your skin whilst he leans in and stops juuuust before his lips are on yours, "What more do you want from me?"

Your mouth trembles with the words that ached to leave them, unconsciously longing for the finality that is him kissing you at some point. You hated how in all the time he's been gone you'd done everything but move on and instead worked yourself up to a point so low in being touch-starved that you wanted to whine from the sheer closeness you shared with him alone.

"...Tell me why you did it." You eventually manage to demand from him.

He sighs but his answer is immediate, "You tried to replace me."

"What?" Your brows meet and your eyes shoot up to his, "No I didn't. I-I'd never-,"

"Gojo," Sukuna starts off interruptingly, allowing himself to meet those gorgeous pupils of pure vexing distaste he'd missed oh-so-graciously, "The fireman..."

"You can't be serious," You spat as you barely made an attempt to tug your chin out of his hold.

The effort you make is completely in vain since he only tightens his grip and this time tugs you impossibly closer, your breaths intertwining with one another now. "Forgive me," He demands, lips grazing the skin of yours as he does so.

Your mind halts every thought for a moment. The way he was looking at you alone was enough for you to have forgiven him a long time ago. Hell, you almost forget you were ever even mad with him to begin with. Sputtering, "I-I can't just-"

"Then let me apologize properly," Sukuna cuts off smoothly, words practically seeping out directly into your mouth now.

And all you could do was swallow down each one, completely entrapped in every thread of seductive manipulation he'd woven into you over the years. Your statement is airy as it strings out of you slowly, "You shouldn't even be here."

"I'm here because you need me to be," He protests.

You detest how true that may be but, you lie anyway, "No, I don't."

"Your body betrays your claims," The fugitive points out in the same way he always had whenever he saw directly through you, "Just look at the way you've leaned into my every touch as if you crave it—long for it, even," Sukuna continues on as his lips being to part over your own, ready to capture them in the sweetest, long overdue kiss. "Let me make my amends to you, woman." He requests of you kindly, shortly adding a borderline desperate, "Please."

——

You should never have given to that, really.

You were supposed to keep up with your act of stubbornness and not go back to your old ways of forgiving him no matter how wrong he did you. Yet, like any toxic relationship, you can't seem to find it in yourself to do that at all.

So here you are now, debauched and ruined in front of your own bedroom mirror. Having been put on display by the same man you were supposed to kick out of your home hours ago, you're busy bouncing up and down a looong expanse of his thick inches as he did nothing more than talk you to filth.

“Y’see this? See what’s all mine?” Sukuna rasps hotly against the sensitive shell of your ear, having one of his thick hands settled neatly onto the curve of your hips as he guides you up and down his swollen shaft with no sense of gentleness whatsoever. His other hand busies itself away with your jaw to keep your head facing the mirror just a few inches away from the edge of the bed where the two of you are sat, “Yeahhh, look how pretty she is taking all that cock. Taking all my cock. Uhuh..”

Your pussy is left swallowing up everything he stuffs up into you, singing out sloppy glistens of wetness and slick every time he hits that spot inside you no one else ever has or could before. All whilst your mouth dangles open, gorgeous strings of moans 'n whimpers gliding out of your throat and filling the air of your bedroom—the same bedroom he'd previously heard you talking to so many other guys in.

You never knew it of course; never knew that he had your entire home bugged from top to bottom, always listening to who you talked to and how you spoke to them. So five years ago, that might've been how he'd heard you call Gojo your best friend but, none of that matters much now. You're exactly where Sukuna has wanted you to be all this time.

“Fucked so stupid on it already,” He grunts at the way you're struggling to keep up your rhythm on top of him. “How cute,” Sukuna adds on cooingly, to which your cunt flexes ever so deliciously around his slobbering length.

Everything's a literal mess now.

You've got your neck plastered in spit and bite marks, all from the man who just swore he had to make sure you and anyone else who dare set their eyes on you after this knew you belonged to someone. The two of you have been at it for hours now and at this point you're hoping the police have long since forgotten about searching for him.

At some point you think you should've gone numb from the pleasure he'd given you but instead it was the exact opposite; you just couldn't get enough!

With the way your walls hugged the fat of his cock so snuggly every time he spoke, he couldn't help but carry out his teasing, “No one else has been in here, huh?” He asked, despite already being quite sure of the answer.

From drooly lips, “N-No, Sukuna,” You hardly manage out, especially with the way the wide crown of his cock is just thrashing up against your cervix, leaving the nastiest of kisses all against it so that you'll never forget the feeling, “Jus’ you.."

He smiles proudly at the sound of that and something in his chest swells dangerously. Hips bucking up faster-, harder to rudely knock up against the same place that's been gushing all over every inch of him for fuck knows how long now, "Really? So you were saving this pussy just for me, hm?”

“No,” You try huffing out. Instead, the short word comes out as more of a moan than anything but, all your syllables had been leaving you like that.

Just a few minutes ago he'd had you spread out over your bed and mumbled apologies into your cunt with nasty swirls of his tongue, inscribing every "sorry" into your walls with searing licks and lathers. It was the only time in all this that he'd gone somewhat quiet and instead let your pussy do the talking.

You hardly grasped what transpired from that to now since you're struggling to take everything he's giving you. Hell, you can barely get yourself to sink all the way down to that dark ink he's got wrapped around his cock, having told you that the tattoo there is—apparently—what you're supposed to be reaching with every thrust.

“Feels like you were,” He husks out thickly in between ragged breaths, grin only enlarging itself out across his slicked face, “Look at how sloppy she is around me,” And just as he says that, you're doing nothing more than watching the way your pussy lips drool so stupidly against the angry veins of his dick. To which he snickers into your ear just to tease you some more, “Such a wet lil' thing.”

You can't even control the way your head flops back somewhere against him, hips growing fatigued by the minute and throat hoarse from your pathetic mewls of pleasure, “Hnngh, S-Sukunaa."

The man only tuts before shaking his head a little to get the sweat-soaked pink locks of hair sticking to his forehead to move a bit, taking in the sight of how slovenly the both of you look right now.

With his lips sticking to the sensitive crest of your ear, he whispers ever so tentatively, “Made s’perfect for me,” A praise that only has you drenching the stretching girth that's tucked heavenly inside you, “Aren’t you?”

“M-Mhmm,” You agree instantly, of course. You think you've forgotten how to and the overall desire to deny him a long time ago from now.

Just then you feel a certain twitch spasming against your honeyed walls, causing a lewd squelch to ring out. Sukuna's breath gets even more breathier as his heavy balls ache for the release he's been saving just for you. “Slut,” He calls, almost as if that were your birth given name. “Look at me,” The same strong hand on your jaw forces your head to turn and your eyes meet his dilated pupils, “Can you feel that? Feel what you do to me? What you’ve been doing to me? Hm?”

Just as he asks you all those dirty questions, you feel him rolling the rest of his cock deeper inside you, trying to make that slathered tattoo disappear all the way past your puffy folds already.

“Yes,” You croak pliantly, earning a mocked pout of his kiss-bitten lips.

“Yeah? How do I feel inside there, huh?” He asks, just to earn a soft whine out of your throat instead of proper response. Then he cocks his brow up, “S’good you can’t answer me properly? Poor thing—here," All. of your breath is ripped out of your lungs as he then moves both of his arms down to swoop under your thighs and lift them up and out. Followed by which is him finding the nerve to stand with you in his hold.

You quickly find yourself in a full nelson before you have the time to break out of your cockdrunken state. The drool from your lips drips out onto the floor with soft, nasty splatters that match what's currently leaking all off of his balls and onto the floor.

Oh, the sight is nothing short of pure filth.

But—naturally—Sukuna's not phased by the change of positions in the slightest, "Tell me if this is better for you.” He taunts.

Better for you? As if. You could feel a tingling sensation thrumming all throughout your legs as they reduced to utter mush in his arms, especially as he starts moving. His thick cock dives in and out of your leaking hole, creating the prettiest sounds of nastiness that reverberate throughout the space around you.

Sukuna spreads you out impossibly wider with his rugged, tattooed arms secured too neatly under the plush of your thighs, having you take him fully now. Your hips feel wobbly whilst he hauls you up and down his cock, leaving you to do nothing but sop up everything he slid so thoroughly into you.

You're gasping when his wiiiide cock lodges so suddenly against your sweetest spot, “Kuna’, c-can’t—mmgh! Fuck! M’gonna cum,” You pant heavily, adding on a cute whine of, “S'too much!”

He's kissing somewhere near your neck now but you're too focused on the feel of his weepy head against where you needed him most to realize. Not until he starts that raspy purring against your hot skin, “Again? You like my cock that much?”

“N-No,” You manage to argue playfully, “I just-, mmnh! I-I like the way you fuck me.”

“Oh really?” He scoffs instantaneously, as if offended for a second. “And yet look at this messy pussy," Sukuna directs, causing your attention to shift down at the way you've left the creamiest mess of release all around that dark ink of his. "Crying alll around the same cock she hates.”

“Ohfuck,” You gape, eyes watering up again when he bites down hard at your neck. Something deep in the pit of your stomach felt as though you were bursting and fuck did it feel good.

So good that you're driven straight into overstimulation for the nth time of the night, all while sobbing and pleading for something—though you're not quite sure what for. It's not like you wanted a break by this point, no, no, you were much more interested in him breaking you.

So why does your body start squirming in his arms all over the place as if to escape him? You've no idea.

“Don’t do that,” Sukuna starts scolding you the moment he catches onto it, arms bulging around your folded body and locking you in place, “Take it, since you like the way I fuck. Take it, every fuckin’ inch—none of these-," His head angles up to lick the streaming teardrops off of your cheeks, "Mmh… sweet-, tears. Awh, look at you trying to run from it. S'this too much for my slutty girl?” He sears into you.

“Sukuna, please,” You beg. For what? You're still unsure but by this point you're unsure about everything. The only thing you can think about is the way he feels inside you.

He's still breaking out that smug smile of his, taunting, “Please what?”

“I-I can’t—“ You don’t even know what you were trying to say with the way your mind blanks and you cream around the thick of his cock yet again.

“Shh, shh, listen to her," Sukuna instructs, letting your gasps and cunt become the loudest things in the room. “Y'Hear that? That’s what good sluts sound like when they get fucked right.” He explains to you, talking into your ear once more just to have you spasming all around him for the millionth time. The baritone in his voice gets impossibly heavier in the next second, “Hah, ready to hear how they get bred?”

In response, all you can do is clench around him and manage a lazy, fucked-out nod of your head.

“Ohhh, you are, huh?” He coos.

“Uhuhh,” You babble, “Please ‘Kuna... N-Need it."

A scratchy grunt tumbles up from his throat, “Need what? Say it for me.”

“Cum inside me,” You say fully and almost perfectly for the first time in hours, “Fuck me full.”

He almost does at the sound alone but for some reason, he feels as though he needed to hold out just a little longer. "S'that what you need?" Sukuna huffs, thrusts entirely uneven now with the way his pearly 'n dawdling cockhead thwacked around your insides with no more direct focus, just feral need. "You need my cum inside you?"

"Yes," You weep delightfully.

Your best friend can only manage another, "Fuck, I've missed you so much." at the sound of that. Then he's spilling every globbing rope of cum inside you. His thrusts punctuating to make sure it takes, "Thought about you every. single. day."

"Sukuna," Your head is turning elsewhere again and for some reason he hates that.

So he's rasping a needy, "Look at me," all over again, swallowing down the terribly plead that nearly jumped out of his throat. Masking the near level of patheticness he'd reached, "Now tell me you love me." he demands instead.

Your mind may be a mush of cockdrunk and fucked-stupid but you still carry that same strength to push his buttons one more time, "F-Fuck you,"

Sukuna groans harshly and turns around with you. One second you're held tightly in his hands and the next he's laying you down on the bed flat with a rough grab on your head just to push it against your bedsheets. The next few moans that leave your throat are broken and muffled as he plows into you in yet another new position—prone bone—and driving his fat cock into every quivering crevice of your cunt.

His free hand presses down against the newfound arch in your spine and his dick feels even thicker inside you somehow. Eyes fluttering, you end up giving in without him having to say anything else, "F-Fuck! I love you, 'Kuna..." You sob into the bed.

He tugs your head up by your hair with a sharp pull, "One more time f'me?"

"Hnngh, I l-love you," You whimper.

He chuckles as if he's aware of something you're not, "Oh, I know you do, sweetheart, I know." Then he's leaning down, wide, muscular body caging yours as he speaks carefully, "You're never gonna send me off like that again, right?"

"Never," You're choking now, his hard tip kissing that spot of yours yet again.

"So obedient," Sukuna comments whilst practically spelling his name out into your cunt, "All I have to do is give you some cock for you to obey my every word, huh?"

You're nodding like some idiotic whore now, "Mhmm.."

"What a slut." He scoffs—as if he isn't into it or something—and then lets his eyes glide down your gorgeously ruined body, "My slut though, isn't that right?"

You don't even try to think before speaking. The words easy fall past your lips in a wispy puff, "All yours S'kuna."

"Juuust as I fuckin' thought," He breathes out in return. And then with one last little snicker, his voice dips to something so quiet that you nearly miss the way he finishes off with a softened, "'Love you too, woman."

tags 1/2:

@2linaaeatsfamilies @scarletmoonshine0 @medusamara5 @needtoloveoutloud @lipstainedgemini

@kaofindj @d43dg1rl @mimiluvzu2 @lululemmington @choso-enthusiast

@brefninanami @stay0802 @chosos-prettyprincess @ersharyzst @blubearxy 

@ravenbc @sugarcoatedsoul @jay4luvsya @melancholic-cow @grignardsreagent 

@littlefuzzybabykitty @designerpvssy @chrysaoraa @noyaswrld @anonimedsk 

@matchaabliss @thiscornerofmyfanficbrain @fishosezo @midnightartist @mattsukitty 

@idkstrawbs @kenney7124 @didibxx @st4ryki @aeminrty 

@ifiwereabug @crispycatt @natasaa13 @broimherebcsimboredok @ellkaysdream

@mandistromboli @pussyeaterleah @theuniversesnepobaby @mollysails @ficrepostblog

It starts, well, not innocently, but definitely within the range of normal.

"I hate sex scenes in movies." You roll your eyes as you watch the main actress let out an awful high pitched moan as the most average looking man thrusts into her. It can't feel that good.

"I didn't take you to be a prude, with how often you sleep around and all that," Baby jabs at you, and you throw a pillow at him.

"Like you can talk!"

"I think it's nice to show sex and love on the big screen~" Romance sighs, as though the most bland, have-no-chemistry-with-each-other sex scene with fake high moans and wet noises could be described as nice.

"Yeah, stop slut shaming!" Baby shoves you a little harder than necessary, and you shove him back, barely moving him. He smirks.

"I'm not- you guys are impossible," you end up grumbling, shoving the bottom half of your face into your hoodie, "Jinu, control your children."

"Boys," Jinu says with seriousness, but his eyes have a glint of something else; he maintains eye contact with you. "What's your beef with sex scenes, though? Doesn't seem like something that would be…off-putting to you."

"Yeah, last week when we were out you were basically fucking that one guy on the-"

"Shut up, Baby!" It comes out as more of a squeal, hazy memories hit you from when you all went out with Huntr/x. Some other up-and-coming idol with his hands on your waist, pulling you close, in the privacy of a VIP club filled with pretty famous people who were pent up and couldn't so much as look at someone in public without getting in trouble.

You remember how Abby had smoothly interjected himself, whispered and asked why you would waste your time with someone like that when you could have someone like him.

The night devolved from there into messy sheets and lots of pleasure from a lot of different hands and body parts.

Whatever was going on between you and the Saja Boys was…fine. It was nice, even, but no one ever talked about it.

Sure, it's great that they decided not to take your soul when you accidentally walked into their practice room instead of the idol group you managed and found Baby being held back by Mystery and Romance, Jinu being barely held back by Abby, all in demon form.

You blinked. Said some snarky comment about how they really need to get a manager, and then left without another word.

That night, you ended up with a job offer that sounded more like a thinly veiled threat, as well as a new place to live (with the Saja Boys), a pay raise, and a long NDA that you think is insane that they made you sign because, really, they could just kill you.

On the bright side, you did get to meet Huntr/x and now hang out with them regularly.

Also, you sleep with the Saja Boys on a regular basis, sometimes for pleasure and fun, sometimes out of frustration, and sometimes because you're bored and have nothing better to do. There's other stuff going on, but that's definitely not a conversation anyone will be having anytime soon.

It's been a wild few months for you.

But, the rule has been just don't talk about it. Like when Romance walked in on Mystery railing you from behind, bent over the kitchen counter, he merely waited, went about making his coffee, and then had his turn with you cockwarming him as he talked with (at) Mystery about his newest idea for a song, followed by fucking you on the breakfast table as the rest of the guys slowly made their way in the kitchen to make breakfast.

You showered with Abby after, which resulted in you getting a little messier before you got clean, and then came back out to find all of the guys casually lounging in the living room. (Abby did end up making you a fresh breakfast, as he admitted it was "sort of my fault" that yours went cold.)

No one said anything, though. Not that day. Not ever. Just went about their days like normal. Writing, rehearsing, fan signing, having you somehow be both band manager and house manager (Jinu is the leader only in theory and photo ops, dear god if you have to hear him duke it out with Baby over what movie to watch again you're going to lose it.)

"So?" Jinu cocks his head to the side and gives you a sweet smile that could cut steel.

"Dunno…" You look off to the side, unable to meet Jinu's eyes. You can almost see his patterns pulsing underneath his skin, brown eyes tinted gold but not quite golden. Yet.

"Yeah, what's the big hangup, love?" Romance's eyes flash for a moment, before he's back to his usual, saccharine self.

The guys are all staring at you with a look in their eyes that you know too well but have never thought too hard about.

"It just seems…scripted, I guess," you sigh, not even sure why you thought opening your mouth was a good idea. You continue anyway. "Plus, it always lasts, like, a few minutes. There's no way you're making the main character cum that fast, especially not just fucking her like that, I swear, it's totally misogynistic, actually-"

Before you can finish your sentence, Jinu is in front of you. Not towering, but, okay, a little towering as he looks down at your, curled up into a ball on the couch. His eyes are glowing this time, entire form backlit by the next scene of the movie that everyone has stopped paying attention to.

"Wanna bet?" His grin is cocky, and your eyes are drawn, as always, to his canines that are just a little too sharp to be totally human.

Your stomach drops in anticipation. You know they can all tell by the way the air shifts, but you still try to play it off.

"Bet what?" You smile at Jinu, and hear Abby huff out a laugh and Baby mumble fucking brat.

"Don't play coy, love, it doesn't suit you." Jinu smiles his heartbreaker smile before moving faster than your eyes can track; he pushes you back so you're sprawled out, barely taking up the length of the couch, both of your wrists above your head with one of his hands, while the other one trails under your hoodie, up and down your torso.

"Not fair that you get to go first." Of course Baby has something to say about it. He always does.

"You'll all get your turn, be patient." Jinu gives the guys a stern glare, and you suddenly realize that they've all readjusted themselves around the room so they can watch. Jinu looks back at you with another cocky grin, "This won't take long, anyway."

You squirm a bit and Jinu looks at you, amused.

"I'm starting a timer." It's unclear if Baby means this as a challenge or as annoyance that he has to wait.

Obviously, Jinu takes it as a challenge.

He doesn't move quickly, but with laser-focused intent; doesn't let go of your hands, and continues to just barely touch your stomach, your ribs, just underneath your breasts. Light enough to have you arching up into his hand, as much as you can with your arms pinned and your hips- oh.

Your hips roll up against his groin and you realize he's already hard. He lets out a little sigh, almost content, but keeps his touches light, even when the hand on your wrists tighten.

When he leans down to kiss you, you know you're done for. Jinu kisses like he has all the time in the world, and like you're the center of the universe. Unhurried and unbothered, pouring centuries of experience fucking around with people into every nip and lap and suck. But the worst part is that he-

"You're so good aren't you?"

His voice. It's always your undoing. You know this and for some stupid reason, thought that maybe he didn't know this. The way his voice wraps around you like silk, making you go pliant, almost to a point that you think he's using some weird demon magic.

(He's not.)

You whimper.

"There she is, that's my good girl." You can hear his smile as he trails a kiss down your jaw, the exposed part of your neck. "Let's get you out of this, hm?"

There's a rip and you realize, with both horror and horniness, that he's literally ripped the hoodie off of you and thrown it somewhere.

"Dude, that's mine-"

Oh, that's right. Abby had given you his hoodie earlier that day and you had just been wearing it around.

Jinu doesn't acknowledge Abby's tantrum at all, just looks down at you in nothing but panties and barely-covering-you pajama shorts.

"What a sight for sore eyes," Jinu's voice is low and you swear it reverberates through your skull, "As always."

He leans back down to kiss you, letting your hands go in the process so that he can run his own up and down your sides. You forget how long his fingers are and big his palms are until he grabs you by the waist and squeezes.

Your breath hitches and he chuckles.

"My pretty little thing," he whispers against your chest, grazing his teeth just barely against your nipples before lapping at them.

This was the thing with Jinu: he was a good lover, like, really good and unfortunately he knew it.

He leans in close to your ear, licking the shell, "I bet I could make you cum from just my voice, wanna try?" His tone is smug and you hate that you clench your thighs together at his words. When he pulls back, he looks ridiculously pleased with himself.

"No, you said we all get a turn, Jinu, stop hogging her. Either make her cum or get the fuck out of the way," Baby sounds almost bored if it wasn't for the clear irritation and heat underlying his tone. Romance makes a sound of agreement.

Jinu pulls back and rolls his eyes while one of his hands moves down to run up and down your inner thigh.

You try to press back into his touch, but his other hand anchors you down by your hips.

"Nuh-uh, be patient." He drags a finger up the crease of your inner thigh, with just enough pressure to set your nerves on edge.

"Oh, wow, already so wet?" You can tell he's mocking you, but you also don't care because the drag of his finger outside of your panties and up your slit is almost enough to feel good.

"Jinu-"

"I like the way you say my name, so needy, so whiny," he laughs again, like this is some big game to him, and you might believe it was if you weren't looking at the obvious bulge in his sweatpants and eyes that had turned a deep golden.

"Let's just speed this process up, then, huh?"

That's all the warning you get before he tears off your panties and shorts in one smooth motion and presses two fingers inside of you while pressing his thumb against your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

You keen immediately, his fingers pressing deeper than you can ever get with your own, and with the way his grip on your hip tightens.

Jinu coos at you, "Oh, look at you, I don't even know if I need to stretch you out with how wet you already are for me. It's cute how desperate you get from just a few touches," he leans in close to your ear again and his voice drops an octave, "and some nice words, hm, angel?"

You clench around his fingers, hard, and hear him suck in a breath through his teeth.

"Fuck."

He pulls his fingers out of you and strips down so fast that you barely have time to admire him before he thrusts all the way into you.

"Jinu! Fuck!" Your walls spasm around him at the sudden intrusion, and he laughs again, sounding a little more manic.

You go to grab onto his biceps, but he stops, mid-thrust, and presses your hands above your head once more. "I'm the one doing the touching, sweetheart." And then he's pounding into you again.

Listen, you aren't one to really ever reach an orgasm just from some dude dicking you down, but when Jinu leans forward and starts whispering how good you are and how you were made for him, you can't help but start to feel the low burn in your stomach get hotter and hotter.

Jinu knows it, too. Smug bastard.

"You feel so good clenching around me, angel," he murmurs into your ear, sounding like sin incarnate, "I'm going to fill you up, do you know that? But only after you've milked my cock. Could you do that for me, please, baby? Could you cum for me?" As he keeps talking, he shifts his hips so that his pelvic bone rubs up against your clit with every thrust, grinds against you when he bottoms out, and you see stars.

"Jinu- Jinu, fuck, I'm gonna-"

"That's right, sweetheart," he smiles down at you and starts kissing down your neck, sloppy kisses interspersed with little nips, "You'll cum all over my dick, won't you? Pretty please?"

The fire burns in your stomach as Jinu, even though completely mocking, begs. You feel your walls flutter around him, and the way his rhythm gets thrown off, just by a split second, as a white ring forms around his cock, that's still pressing in and out of you.

"That's it, that's it," Jinu sounds breathless, laughs a little again, "So good, so so good."

You keep spasming, and feel as he slams into you and spills himself deep inside. You twitch around him, and he throws his head back, tightening his grip on your wrists, your hip.

When you're both spent, he looks down at you with something that's almost affectionate before turning to look over his shoulder, "How long?"

"Dunno," Baby's voice is somewhat muffled, and you glance over to see that he has the bottom half of his face hidden in his hoodie, while he's palming himself through his sweats. "Stopped keeping track once you ripped her clothes off."

"My clothes," Abby says emphatically, "My turn."

Jinu pulls out of you, not quite gently but with some amount of care.

"Have fun," Jinu shoulder checks Abby in a friendly way as he goes to try and find his clothes.

Abby looks down at you. He's already shirtless (big surprise) and his sweats are hanging low on his hips, not concealing the tent in his pants at all.

His eyes trace from where your hands are still loosely hanging about your head, down to your face, eyes probably a little glassy, cheeks definitely flushed, running all the way down your neck, the tiny bruises that are no doubt forming along your collarbone, and across your torso, your hips, and by the time he gets to where Jinu's fluids are leaking out of you, he's practically leering.

"Let's get you up, doll, how about that?"

You have no idea what he's talking about before you're hauled up by Abby as though you weigh nothing. Your stomach is across his shoulder and you can see the other guys watching with various levels of amusement and arousal.

"Abby! What are you do-"

Your back slams into the window that overlooks the city. Their high rise penthouse is nice, but you don't know how you feel about your bare ass being pressed up against the clear glass.

"Abby! The window is see through!"

He laughs in your face, totally unbothered as he holds you up by pressing himself against you, your ankles clasped against his back and hands behind his neck like a koala.

"Jinu might be possessive, but I want to show my pretty girl off to the whole world," Abby's tone is light, but his eyes are dark. He shifts beneath you as he steps out of his sweatpants.

And then he drops you onto his dick.

You scream.

"That's my girl," Abby laughs again, full bodied, vibrating against you, as he holds you up by your waist and continues thrusting into you at a brutal pace. The glass immediately starts becoming slick with your sweat, letting you slide up and down more easily as Abby completely manhandles you. Your grip switches from behind his neck to gripping his biceps, which your hands barely wrap halfway around.

Fuck, Abby is just so big.

You clench around him and he hisses.

"C'mere…" Abby readjusts so that your knees are hooked on his elbows, opening your legs up wider as he continues to slam into you, letting gravity help to drop you all the way down onto him.

"You look so good with me inside you, babe." He stops thrusting for a moment, and you let out a long whine, which is met with a chuckle from the rest of the guys. Abby stills, though, and you follow his gaze to where he's looking at the bulge in your stomach, his tip reaching and stretching your lower abs.

"Oh, fuck." He pulls out slowly, and presses back in, eyes never leaving the way your body stretches to accommodate his length. "You're so fucking tight, doll. I want to just ruin you."

And he does. He starts up his brutal pace once more, sinking you down onto him, eyes never leaving your stomach.

You feel like he's rearranging your guts both physically and metaphorically.

"Abby," you let out a little sigh, and his eyes snap up to your face, where your tongue is lolled out, just a bit, and your eyes are completely unfocused, only feeling the burn and stretch as Abby continues to completely wreck you.

"You're doing great, babe!" He gives you a cheeky grin before leaning in to press his chest against yours, keeping his pace with surprising ease. When he shifts, he's suddenly brushing up against your g-spot, rubbing against it each time he bottoms out.

"There, yeah?" He smiles into the side of your neck as he feels you start to tense with every thrust.

You let out some incoherent noise and want to press more into him, but you have basically no control over you body whatsoever with how he has you pinned and twisted like a pretzel.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, I'll take care of you." He bites down on your neck, way too high and definitely with enough force to leave a bruise. If not with the bite, the way he sucks afterwards is certainly going to take some makeup before tomorrow's full schedule.

"Ah, ah, don't worry about it," Abby moves down to the junction of your neck and shoulder, bites and sucks again, "I can tell- you're worried about a couple of hickies! Don't be silly." He licks at the bruise he no doubt just left, and then his voice drops as he whispers in your ear, "Besides, you know Mystery is going to leave you bleeding."

At that moment, he slams up into you and bites down on your neck. Your hands aren't large enough to get a good grip on his biceps, and they lay uselessly against his arms. The combination of how big and strong Abby is, easily able to ruin you, and remembering that you still have three more men waiting to get their hands on you does something to your brain and your orgasm hits you, taking you by complete surprise.

"Oh, fuck, babe, you're-? Oh, yes, yes, yes-" Abby is rutting up into you as you milk his cock, immediately cumming with you. His cock pulses inside of you, stretching out your walls more, and by the time he's completely spent, you already have fluids dripping down your thigh onto your ass before he's even pulled out.

There's barely a pause for you to catch your breath.

"You two are hopeless; that's not how you treat a lady," Romance walks up behind Abby and claps him on the shoulder. He keeps his tone casual, lighthearted almost, but there's only heat in the way he traces your body, down to where you're connected with Abby still, leaking.

"Whatever, loverboy." Abby readjusts you so that your legs hang loosely around his hips and he's supporting you by your ass. You lean into him, feeling like a ragdoll already.

"Aw, my love, you need to be taken care of right, don't you?" Romance's voice is sweet and smooth and a little bit condescending.

You moan out some noise and the two pink-haired menaces laugh.

"You're not even halfway done!" Romance plucks you out of Abby's arms with a gentleness that only Romance seems to hold. "Come here, princess."

He sets you down on the sofa, a mess of limbs, totally limp, hips practically off the edge.

And then he kneels in front of you.

Oh, god.

He kisses the inside of your thighs, lightly, licks at the fluids that are sort of starting to dry from Jinu and still dripping from Abby. His hands wrap about your hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles around bruises that have started to form.

Everything Romance does is sweet and caring. Even his little bites are closer to love bites, not hard enough to even leave a mark.

"Rom~"

"There's my sweet girl. They were so rough with you, weren't they? You poor thing." He kisses your clit lightly, and you jolt, pressing your pelvic bone into his face. His grip on your hips tightens, as he stops you from almost smashing his nose. "Aw, my love. I'll be gentle, I promise."

Romance is gentle. He licks up your folds and puts the lightest pressure on your clit with just the tip of his tongue, vice grip still on your hips.

He talks you through everything, telling you what a good job you're doing, how delicious you taste, how he loves every twitch of your thighs.

He's lazy in the way he switches between lapping at you, gently sucking your clit, and giving you little kisses. He strokes over your hips, your thighs, grabs your breasts as though he has all the time in the world.

You can feel the beginning wisps of your orgasm building, slowly, the way a fire starts from embers and tiny flames.

Romance starts to nuzzle your thigh, hands sliding lower, and suddenly he's pressing one of his fingers into you, and then two.

There's a wet sound, and while his fingers are long, they aren't quite enough to scratch the itch after being railed by two other demons.

"Oh, impatient, are we?" Romance huffs a breath of laughter right into your heat. You jerk, just a bit, "That's okay. You can be impatient, princess, it'll feel so much better in the end if we take our time~"

He's not quite teasing, just languid. Soft. Slow. His fingers curl inside of you, and you clench down hard.

Romance hisses. "So tight." He lets go of where he's keeping your leg open with one hand, instead slinging it over his shoulder, and reaching down to unzip his pants and start stroking himself.

"Ah~" he lets out a sigh and presses a kiss to your lower belly as he continues to twist and curl his fingers in a way that has you writhing.

"Rom- Rom, please, I need-" You let out a cry as he presses his fingers in a bit harsher than he had been.

"Yes? What does my darling need?"

"I need you in me, please!" You don't like begging anyone except Romance.

"Oh, but I am in you, aren't I?" You don't have to look at his face to see the shit-eating grin he's wearing.

"Rom- you know, what I mean!" You buck your hips up, trying to get just a little more friction. You're close to finishing, you can feel it, but you won't be able to at the pace he's currently going.

"I don't, as a matter of fact," Romance sounds innocent, but when you look at him through watery lashes, his eyes are molten lava, glowing gold. "Let's try that again, princess, what can I do to make you feel good?" He brushes a finger against your clit, a light brush, but it sends a shockwave through you.

You clench around nothing, and watch as Romance's eyes drop down to watch your pussy practically beg to be fucked.

He smiles at you, but doesn't move, besides lazily rubbing himself. He doesn't look to be in any rush at all, despite the red tip of his cock leaking precum.

"Fuck me, Romance!"

His grin turns predatory and he suddenly pushes all the way inside you, not harshly, but smoothly.

"Fucking finally." You think that's Baby, but you're so far gone from feeling full again that you aren't positive.

"Oh, my darling, you feel like heaven on earth. I'm just so blessed to feel how good you feel wrapped around me." Romance likes keeping eye contact when he fucks. He still has one of your legs over his shoulders, letting him really get deep while keeping a steady rhythm.

You want to reply, but you can't stop looking at his eyes. You know it's a ruse, but they're so tender. He looks at everyone like he's a little bit in love with them, but that includes you.

You tighten around him as he gives you a smile that could start wars.

"Pretty," you manage to slur out, both hands moving to cup his face.

"Ah!" He looks genuinely surprised for a moment, before breaking into another smile, gold shimmering in his eyes, "I like this version of you. Maybe I should get the other guys to fuck you first always, what do you think of that?"

It seems your body likes the thought of that, given how hard to clamp down on his dick again. He lets out another laugh, like a light breeze in the spring, refreshing and alive.

He moves hand so that his thumb is circling your clit, and you can feel yourself almost at the edge again. The buildup has been so slow, you had almost forgotten about it, but then your orgasm blooms.

It starts at your clit, but tingles spread out all the way to your toes, your fingers; you swear for a moment you actually white out. You can hear Romance groaning as he thrusts a few more times, doesn't let up on your clit, and starts fucking his own orgasm into you. But your orgasm lasts forever, you're shaking, and still clenching down on Romance even after you've drained him.

He looks down at you as you come down from your high, smiling gently, and pulling out with even more care.

You thought that you were a bag of bones before, but after that last orgasm, you're barely attached to this reality.

A growl pulls you back pretty fucking quick.

Mystery is standing over you, cock out, glistening, and looking like he wants to eat you alive.

"Myst?" You reach your hand out, hoping he understands that you really don't think that you can handle-

You hear a snicker from one (or all) of the guys, and then Mystery is flipping you over, face squished into sofa, ass in the air. The only way you're able to support yourself is because Mystery is literally holding up your hips.

"Myst, wait-"

He doesn't. He thrusts into you and immediately starts fucking you like it's his birth right. You're overstimulated and can't breathe super well in this position, but Mystery doesn't seem to care about anything besides ramming into you with inhuman speed and strength.

The other guys, even when they get rough, usually don't get demon rough.

Mystery's baseline is demon rough.

When he pulls your hips higher, pushes your face into the sofa more, you moan. Totally pliant, basically just a doll for him to use at this point. You feel something else inside of you with each thrust and-

Oh my god. How could you forget about the fucking piercing that he had gotten earlier that week? Already healed, obviously. Demon shit.

The drag of his cock in and out of you combined with the ring makes your head spin. He suddenly grabs you by the hair and yanks your head up with a growl.

You find yourself face to face with Baby's cock.

"Huh-" you barely have time to realize what's happening before you find Baby shoving himself down your throat.

"Got tired of waiting, brat." He pops his gum with an annoying snap. "Open wider."

You try, you really do, but it's hard and you're barely able to keep your eyes open and-

Slap.

"I said, open wider." It's a demand, and Baby's deep voice does something to you. Your jaw drops, and Baby doesn't so much as say thank you, instead he rams himself down your throat until your nose hits his pelvis bone.

Mystery lets out a moan.

"You clench when you get used like the whore you are?" Baby's voice is nonchalant, but you're more so humiliated because you're spasming around Mystery's dick at Baby's words.

Mystery leans forward over you and bites down on your shoulder. Hard. Hard enough to break skin.

You choke on Baby's cock, but he simply takes you by the throat to change the angle so that you're looking up at him.

"Take it." His eyes are dark, and if you couldn't feel him literally throbbing as you deepthroat him, you might believe he was bored.

He continues to rock back and forth in your mouth, never fully pulling out, never really giving you a chance to catch a true breath.

"Hurry up." Baby's tone is petulant and clipped, as though he was waiting for Mystery to decide what drink he wants from the vending machine. "Actually-"

He pulls all the way out of your throat, and you gasp for air.

"Move, it's my turn." Baby walks over to Mystery, who's growling but hasn't stopped rutting into you at all. He doesn't slow down, but suddenly pulls out of you, and drags you down to sit in his lap, facing out.

Before you realize what's going on, Mystery has his tip up against your ass; without any warning, there never seems to be with him, he slams you down onto him and you shriek.

Baby laughs, honest to god laughs, with that mean edge he gets when he watches others suffer.

"You're fine." He rolls his eyes at you and lines himself up with your pussy before pressing in and groaning. "Mmm, you're good for something at least, aren't you?"

You're mortified when you clench around both cocks inside of you, Mystery letting out a hiss and Baby letting out a haughty laugh. "Pathetic little thing."

Mystery is basically doing hip thrusts up into you, biting at your neck and shoulders to a point that you think you'll probably need an antiseptic after all of this, and Baby is fucking you just the way he likes it, slow and teasing and saying the filthiest things to you.

"You're on your fifth cock and still this tight? We're never letting this pussy go, you know that right?" Baby's facade is crumbling, just the littlest bit. You can tell in the way his words are getting breathier, less edge and more need.

Baby and Mystery both start speeding up, seeming to sync up so that they slam into you at the same time. You feel like you're moving through syrup, time is hazy, and you can't focus on anything besides Mystery's breathing in your ear and harsh bites across your skin, the way Baby, despite lust-blown eyes and short breaths, still manages to call you a stupid, useless cunt.

And then, the little demon, starts rubbing your clit with his thumb with just a bit too much pressure so that the pleasure and pain melt into one.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that this means he's close.

But you aren't coherent enough to realize it because you can only feel Mystery and Baby borderline abusing your body as they both get more frantic in their movements.

"Hey," Baby places a hand on your cheek, shoves his thumb in your mouth so you taste yourself, and all of the guys' cum that's been leaking out of you, "You're gonna cum when I tell you, do you understand?"

He hooks his thumb in your mouth to pull your head into a nod.

"You fucking better," he growls. Mystery whimpers again as you clench around him.

Baby removes his hand from your mouth and goes back to rubbing your clit just a little too harshly.

After a few more thrusts, you feel him start to shoot cum into you, which almost causes you to start cumming yourself, feeling him fill you up.

"Not yet, brat." The command is breathy and raspy, but a command nonetheless.

Mystery bites down on your shoulder again hard, and you can feel him start to pulse inside your other hole.

You're so close, feeling both of them dump their seed into you, and with Baby still playing with your clit.

When he stops dumping cum into you, he looks at you with a smirk, presses just a little harder on your clit: "Cum for me."

It's like a cord snaps. You're cumming hard, and manage to surprise everyone in the room as you squirt on Baby's dick. He lets out a startled laugh, and you vaguely hear him throw a "Did you know she could do this?" to the rest of the guys watching. They make various noises of surprise or amusement.

You're too tired to be embarrassed, but you get your juices everywhere. Running down your thighs onto Mystery's cock, the sofa, even the floor has a few small puddles.

You barely manage to keep your eyes open as you relax back into Mystery, who cages you against him, still nestled inside of you. Baby rips himself out of you with no regard at all, and you let out a noise like you've been shot.

He still leans down and gives you a kiss on the forehead, though. Mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like "love you" but you're sure that you heard that wrong because there's just no way.

"Myst-" Abby approaches you only for Mystery to hold you tighter and growl as he continues suckle on your breast. "Hey. Let's get her cleaned up, okay? I can carry her."

You don't know what happens after that, really. Time passes in a haze as Mystery draws you a bath that Abby carries you to. Jinu washes you like you're something precious, and Romance goes through the gentle motions of skin and haircare post-bath. He helps you make your way back to your bed, where Baby is casually leaning against your headboard like he belongs there.

The rest of the guys are sprawled out around your room.

(Jinu had given up the master bedroom when you moved in, which you thought was kind, but quickly realized was only used as an excuse for the guys to constantly be in your room because it was the biggest and the nicest.)

You curl up next to Baby, let the rest of the guys find their way to the bed, touching you in some way. Your head is in the clouds and your body feels like it's run a marathon.

You're pretty sure that you won't be able to walk tomorrow, if the few steps from the bathroom was any indication.

"Say…" Baby shifts, and you can tell that he's about to say some bullshit. "We didn't actually time any of that…"

The guys all shift a bit in bed, laughing quietly. Jinu is the one who responds.

Bachira Meguru: FOUND MY BEST FRIEND SLEEPING NAKED IN MY BED!

Meguru had lost track of time! It's not his fault! He was out playing soccer with Yoichi after not seeing him for a few months, and got caught up in the game. He had texted you that it was fine if you stopped by his place in a few minutes, but a few minutes turned into a few more games for him and Yoichi.

He looks at the time on his phone and finds a few missed calls and about a million texts from you.

"Fuck," he breathes out. Yoichi looks over in concern. "I didn't realize how long we've been playing!"

Yoichi grins, "It's nice that we could get back together again! It's been a while since I've been able to really play with someone, you know?"

Meguru does know. There's no better high for him than getting out on the field and getting that spark lit up inside of him. He can feel his blood coursing through his veins, and he feels more alive than he has in a while.

"I gotta run, though, like, now," Meguru downgrades by throwing all of his shit into his bag without care, "See you soon, hopefully, Yo-chan!"

Yoichi doesn't look up from his phone, but gives Meguru a nod.

Meguru doesn't even check your texts, and he tries calling you back several times, but you don't pick up.

He's worried that somehow you got kidnapped off of his front porch and it's his fault and he's going to find whoever took you and hunt them down and-

He shoves the key into his apartment door to find it unlocked.

Oh fuck, did I leave the door unlocked this whole time? Meguru knows he's scattered-brained, but it's been a while since he's forgotten something as basic as locking up the apartment. He must have been really in the heat of the moment in getting to the field this morning, which tracks.

His eyes hone into your bag with the bee keychain plushie you attach to every bag you get because It reminds me of you, Megs!

So you were kidnapped out of his apartment?! He can feel his pulse spike as he thinks of what to do next.

He rushes into his room to grab a baseball bat, with no real plan, but stops dead in his tracks.

Because there you are, curled up on his bed like you belong there. And it's not that it's the first time you've slept in his bed. It isn't even like the two of you haven't spent the night in the bed together! But what is different is what you're wearing. Which is nothing. At all.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Meguru understands. The way his bedroom window faces, it gets super hot in the afternoons, and he finds himself often sleeping in the nude. But, but-

You roll over away from him, throwing one leg over one of the body pillows that Meguru keeps on his bed. He's still frozen and not quite sure what to do, but he knows what he wants to do.

He watches your hips push forward just slightly, rubbing up against the pillow that Meguru is sure he might never wash again. And then, you whisper something so quietly that he almost doesn't hear it over the roar of his blood pulsing through every inch of his body.

"Megs…" It's something between a sigh and a moan, and Meguru knows right then and there that there's no turning back for him. He hasn't had a monster in a long time, but that burning desire that feels compulsive and all-consuming suddenly takes over.

He's half hard as he strips down to nothing and crawls onto the bed. You don't move at all; Meguru knows that you sleep like the dead. The two of you would often miss lectures in college because neither of you could ever get up on time. He runs a finger down your spine. You keep your steady breathing. When he reaches the curve of your ass, he grabs a handful and kneads, loving the way it jiggles as he lightly slaps it.

"Fuck." He continues to run one hand across your body, from drawing patters across your shoulder blades to grabbing your hips hard enough to leave little fingerprint-shaped bruises. His other hand slowly pumping his cock, precum glistening at the tip.

He reaches his hand to the other side of your torso, lightly brushing over your exposed nipple. You inhale sharply, and Meguru freezes. He watches as you press your chest further into his hand and buck your hips once more against the pillow. He takes this as a good sign and continues to play with your tit, squeezing and pinching at it, but you don't make any more sounds or movements.

He lies down next to you, dick pressed up between your cheeks, and runs his hand down your stomach, your pelvic bone, and finally to your heat that's already wet and sticky.

Meguru lets out a little grunt and almost cums on the spot as his slips a finger between your folds, feeling how good he's made you feel already.

This is fine, right? It's not like the two of you haven't…done stuff before. What's the real difference between a drunken makeout session and fucking your sleeping best friend, really?

Meguru doesn't see one, and he doesn't care enough to think any harder about it because he's pressing his fingers inside of you while rutting up against you and you're just so pliant and warm. He can't tell if it's the sun beating in through the window, the thin sheen of sweat that never quite left his from playing today, or you that has him feeling extremely heated.

He crooks his fingers inside of you and feels you clench around him. He wants to scissor you open, to make sure you're stretched and ready, but he really can't think straight, so he pulls out his fingers to lick them clean. With a lot of self-control, Meguru uses the gentlest movements as he spreads your checks to line himself up with your tight little slit.

When he presses himself in he has to stop halfway just so he doesn't blow his load before he can even bottom out. You're just so unbelievably tight around him and so hot. It's like you're consuming him from the inside out, and he wouldn't have it any other way. You let out a little bit of a breathy sigh as he continues to press up until his balls are flush against your ass.

He carefully pulls out just a few inches before pressing back in at the same slow pace. But when you buck your hips back, it's all over. He has one hand looped under your torso, the other grabbing your hips, and starts pounding into you. While your pussy like a vice grip around his dick, your body is still completely limp as he rails you. But as he takes one of his hands to pinch your nipple, and brings the other one down to rub circles against your clit, he can feel your pussy clench down on him in a way that's mindblowing.

He makes a mental note to absolutely throttle the next guy you bring to meet him because there's no way he's ever going to let you go, now. He's not letting anyone else ever touch you this way again.

He thinks about the way you sighed out his name in your sleep, the tiniest movement of your hips as you sought out friction. He can almost feel the way you move against his dick and hear your sweet voice say his name.

"Megs… Megs…?"

He can't tell if you start cumming first or he does, but he shoots ropes of cum inside of you, and continues to fuck you as he dumps his load in your hole spasming. He feels incredible. He sees stars and is pretty sure that nothing in the world can even come close to making him feel as good as he feels right now.

"Megs?"

He pauses, brain still a little too foggy to realize what's happening.

"Mmmmmhm?" He's still inside of you, kissing your shoulder, fingers dancing across your stomach and chest.

He's startled when your neck turns and your sleepy eyes look directly at his.

It's at this point he realizes what he's done, and he tries to pull out of you, as much as it pains him.

Your hand around his hip pulls him back in, and he stops his movement.

"I wish you had tried to wake me up like this back when we were in college, honestly," you grin and give him a kiss on the jaw before turning back around, somehow pressing yourself closer against him, and falling back asleep.

Itoshi Rin: YOGA INSTRUCTOR STRETCHES STUDENT'S SOPPING WET PUSSY!

"Oh, it's just us again, Rin?" you smile brightly in that way you always do, despite the fact that it's five thirty in the morning and snowing outside.

Rin gets paid either way, so he doesn't necessarily care if anyone shows up, but he is secretly pleased that you've been so consistent over the past few months. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday he gets to see your bubbly face. He's also been impressed with your rapidly improving inversions. The first class he had to literally hold you up and then catch you so that you didn't break your neck.

Since then, you've decided that the two of you are friends. Rin didn't care too much either way, so he let you yammer on about whatever work drama was happening or family nonsense.

Mondays are usually the day that classes are smaller. People always say that they're going to start the week right, but it seems that people become more motivated to get to the gym after they've skipped the first half of the week. Fridays are always packed.

Rin keeps the lights in the studio low, and with the one-way glass, the gently falling snow creates an incredibly peaceful atmosphere.

"I think that I pushed it a little too hard during yesterday's run," you're sitting cross-legged on your yoga mat, "My hamstrings are absolutely killing me!"

Rin likes listening to you chatter, but he really appreciates that you keep him informed of any injuries, which you tend to get a lot of. He's not judging, but he does think if you did more active stretching before workouts and actually took the time to do cool downs, you may find yourself less sore, generally.

He's told you this multiple times.

"Okay," Rin smiles to himself, "Lots of forward fold variations today."

"Riiiin!" You let out something between a groan and a scream.

Rin lets out a little chuckle, "Please, you're disrupting the atmosphere."

You huff, and Rin can't help but think you look cute when you pout.

He starts class the same way as always, with a Sun Salutation A, followed by a Sun Salutation B. When he notices that you're struggling more than usual to get into a deeper expression of downward dog, he walks to the back of your mat.

At this point, he knows that you don't mind hands-on adjustments, especially considering how your first, disastrous class with him went.

He stands behind you and places his hands on your hips, gently pulling them up and back towards him. He's done this maneuver a million times, not just to you, but to many other students. However, this is the first time he hears the tiniest, softest breathy moan fall from your lips.

He can tell that you didn't mean to make it by the way your entire body tenses up.

"It's fine," he murmurs over the soft, lo-fi beats he has going in the background. He knows that people make weird, funny, awkward, embarrassing sounds during yoga class. He's found that just letting them happen without any judgment is the best way to diffuse.

But. He can't help but think that your little noise is really appealing, and maybe he wouldn't mind having you make it again.

So he changes up what he was planning for class, and suddenly throws in quite a few poses that he knows you struggle with. He can see you glaring at him from the corner of his eye, but he keeps the same impassive, innocent face, as though he isn't suddenly creating a flow exclusively around how he can get his hands all over you more.

When he presses down on your back during child's pose, you let out a quiet eep. When he stands behind you to help extend your arms farther in warrior II, you shudder against his chest. When he catches you as you fall out of eagle pose, as you do every time on your left side due to an old injury (but Rin gives you a lot of credit for never giving up), you nearly topple him over.

"Sorry!" you hop back on your mat, and even in the dim lights, Rin can see how flushed you are, "I'm just a little klutzy today!"

"More than usual?" he cocks his head to the side and watches as you flush a deeper shade of red.

He ends you in one more downward dog, and comes around to do another adjustment.

"Let's drop down into puppy pose," he's done this a million times, and has never really thought about it, but when you drop down onto your knees, ass in the air and arms completely stretched out in front of you, Rin can't help but look at the arch of your back, among other parts of you.

In a moment of weakness, he runs a finger down your spine.

The sound you let out is absolutely sinful.

"Do you like that?" he asks softly. He can see you move to turn your head to look at him, and he quickly gives you a slap on the ass, "Don't move your neck, you'll hurt your spine."

You make some sort of noise, but go back to placing your chin against the mat.

Rin runs both of his hands along your ass cheeks, caressing them gently before you press back into his palms.

All bets are off.

"This is a good shoulder opener, why don't you hold it for a bit longer?" Rin's voice wavers the slightest bit as he pulls down your leggings to reveal that you are one of those gym-goers who does not wear underwear.

He practically purrs, and watches as you shiver once more, "Already wet?" He runs a finger up your slit to find you already slick.

You make some muffled noise again that turns into a low groan as he presses one finger inside of you.

Rin doesn't have issues pulling. Not at all. But he can't help but think that you were made just for him, because he can already imagine how amazing you're going to feel wrapped around his cock. He adds another finger and starts pumping in and out of you, amazed at how you suck in even just two of his fingers. It's a bit of an awkward angle, but he manages to press his thumb up against your clitoris and loves that he can feel you get a wetter.

When he pulls his fingers out, you groan and press your hips back, as if chasing his touch.

"On your back." He's pleased that you roll over without any hesitancy, and he pulls your leggings off the rest of the way.

In the low light, you look a bit like an angel, with the snow reflecting the street lights outside.

"Now, let's stretch out those hamstrings." He grabs each of your legs and throws them over his shoulders before leaning over you.

You hiss, but your eyes are already a little hazy, so you don't seem to mind the stretch too much. He lines himself up with you, pressing the tip up against your folds, rubbing up and down, hitting your clit.

"Rin," you let out a whine and buck your hips up.

"Impatient. As always," he smirks down at you before shoving himself in one thrust all the way inside of you. He was a little worried about breaking you, but he's now worried that you're going to break his dick off given how tight you're clenching around him.

He wastes no time slamming in and out of you, pressing your legs farther and farther until your chests are almost flush with each other. He wants to make some quippy remark about how you seem to be nice and stretched now, but the only thing he can focus on is the heat building in his stomach and the way your soft, wet heat feels around him.

Rin glances to the side at the window and sees the reflection of you, legs basically behind your head, glassy eyes as your head lolls slightly to the side, and his dick pulling all the way out and pressing all the way into you. He doesn't know how you're taking all of him.

He presses himself up on your legs, pressing them even further down past your head, changing the angle of your pelvis just right so that you somehow tighten around him even more. He holds himself up on the backs of your thighs and looks down at you.

You have a completely fucked out expression at this point, there's some drool running down the side of your mouth as you look up at him with unfocused eyes. When he re-angles his hips so that he can just barely brush up against your clit, he can practically see the stars in your eyes.

"Rin, there, please," you breathe out, and who is Rin to deny such a good student?

He presses against you over and over until he can feel you start to spasm around him, groaning out his name, and feels your orgasm pulse around him.

He cums almost immediately, continuing to fuck you from this angle, even when you start to wriggle away from slight overstimulation. There's no way he's stopping until you've milked every last drop.

He lets your legs drop off of his shoulders and collapses on top of you, barely holding up his bodyweight.

"So…I'll see you next Wednesday?" you smile up at him and he thinks that his dick isn't the only part of his body that's throbbing.

Isagi Yoichi: PIZZA DELIVERY BOY GETS MORE THAN JUST A TIP IN!

Yoichi is so over this job. He's been working here for less than a month and he's been screamed at, had the police called on him, and literally had a pizza thrown in his face no less than three times each. And he only has part-time hours! This job sucks, a lot, but with food delivery he can make decent tips depending on if the food service gods bless him during that particular shift.

He's really hoping that delivering this god forsaken Hawaiian pizza (who puts pineapple on pizza, anyway?) is going to be a decent tip because it's his last delivery of the day and he has not been blessed with any particularly generous customers this shift.

His hopes are immediately dashed when he brings the pizza up to your door and you answer with a flushed face and slightly glassy eyes. He's never gotten a good tip from a drunk customer.

"Oh!~ Thank you-" he watches your eyes flash down to his nametag, "Yoichi! You're my hero!"

He doesn't want to be a hero. He wants to make enough money to pay his rent and maybe buy those new soccer cleats that he's been eyeing for a while.

"Here, let me- oh," your voice drops off in a tone that he's heard before, and he knows what you're going to say before you say it. "It looks like I don't have any cash on me!"

He sighs. Of course you don't. He wants to scream.

"I'm so sorry!" Your eyes well up with tears and Yoichi really doesn't want to deal with someone drunk and crying so he's quick to jump in.

"No, no, it's okay!" He puts on his best customer service smile and hopes that you cannot sense his I wish that I could call you a million slurs and kill you on the spot vibes.

"I'm so, so sorry. Do you take Venmo? Can I Venmo you?" You take out your phone, and for a second, Yoichi almost takes you up on the offer. Just as he's about to open his mouth, the grey skies that have been dark and heavy all day suddenly open up and a rainstorm starts and he immediately feels a whip of wind almost drench him. You live in a populated neighborhood, as well, so he had to park down the block.

Great, really just great.

"Oh, you're getting all wet- here, why don't you come in? I'm sure the rain will just be a few minutes! Maybe I can find some cash laying around!" You step aside and let a complete stranger into your place before shutting the door behind him. Your apartment is small, but neat. There's a few bottles of soju on the table in the living room, and some reality TV show, that Yoichi only recognizes because Bachira loves it, is playing on the screen.

You bumble around your own apartment, opening random cabinets and pulling out random jars and boxes. The rain is pounding down on the apartment building's roof, and Yoichi is still standing inside just holding the pizza.

"Uh…" He clears his throat when you don't respond at first. "Hey, uh, do you want me to put this pizza down somewhere?"

You whip around from your spot on top of the kitchen counter, looking at something on the top of your fridge, "Oh! My god! Yes, so sorry, here, just bring it-" You motion for him to come into the kitchen.

He toes off his shoes and pads over to where you're swinging your legs off the side of the counter.

"Just put it over there, yeah, that's fine."

He places it on the counter on the opposite side of the sink.

"Well, Yoichi, I don't have any cash, I apologize," you say this looking only slightly apologetic, "Maybe I can pay you in another way?"

You spread your legs and lean back on your hands.

It's like a really, really bad porno, except Yoichi is really looking at you now and realizes that you're kind of hot. Your cheeks are still a little flushed and your eyes are a bit unfocused, but you're wearing a crop top tank that is clearly an old t-shirt that you cut yourself, and pajama shorts that barely cover anything, as he can see all the way up your inner thigh and-

Fuck it. He's had a long day at work. He's not going to get a good tip. The least he can get is a decent fuck out of this.

He grabs your waist and pulls you flush against him; your legs immediately wrap around his hips and he can smell the fruity soju that you were drinking earlier. When your lips meet his, it's a messy, somewhat uncoordinated kiss, but he doesn't care that much because you're pressing your entire body against his and he doesn't remember the last time he got laid. He's been so busy with school and work that he barely has a free second for soccer on the weekends, let alone spending the time trying to find someone to fuck around with.

"Mmmm, bed." You scooch closer to the edge and he instinctively places his hands under your ass as he navigates to what he assumes is a bed behind a partition in the corner.

He tosses you down and strips out of his shirt and pants, kicking them to the side. He likes the way that your eyes roam up and down his body, but can't help but feel a little self-conscious.

When he kneels back over you on the bed, he's quick to rip your shirt off and start licking and biting along your neck and collarbone. You are remarkably responsive with tiny moans and bucking your hips up. You thread a hand through his hair and tug. Hard. "Yoichi, more."

That drives him wild.

"You think you can control me?" He tuns a little vicious, "Fucking whore, spreading her legs for some pizza delivery man, huh? And you think you can just pull me around and tell me what to do?"

He bites down particularly hard on your nipple before sucking and licking, while groping your other breast with his hand. You let out a yip, and attempt to squirm back a bit, but Yoichi has his other hand firmly planted on your hip, preventing you from going anywhere.

"Having second thoughts about letting a stranger into your bed?" He looks up at you with dark eyes, and he can see it in your expression, just a little bit of fear. It's the same look he's seen in his opponent's eyes during games, and it sets him off even more. "No need to be scared, darling, I don't bite- not too hard, at least."

He chuckles to himself before moving further down your torso and ripping off your pajama shorts and underwear in one movement. He finds you already glistening and he can't help but palm himself through his boxers for just a little bit of relief. You reach for his hair again and he slaps your hand away before digging his fingers into your thighs.

"What the fuck did I just say? Don't fucking try to tell me what to do, 'kay?" He glares up at you, and he sees that your eyes are still hazy, something between the alcohol and lust. If he wasn't face to face with your pussy, which he could watch clench around nothing at his words, he might have felt a little guilty.

Certainly not enough to stop, though.

He starts eating you out like you're the best tasting thing in the world. He vaguely wonders if the pineapple thing is true because you taste really good as he runs his tongue up and down your folds, around your clit, and you make such sweet noises, too. It seems like you've gotten the message to not tug him around, but when he looks up, you're running your hands up and down your torso. For a split second, your hand cups your throat, and Yoichi hones in like a predator on prey.

He pulls back from you, to which you make a little disgruntled noise, but immediately shoves himself all the way in with no additional warning. You're so tight, and the intrusion has you spasming around him in a way that feels heavenly.

He holds himself up by his hands, right next to your shoulders, and he likes the way you look more glassy eyed and fucked up than when you opened the door.

"You really are a little stupid bitch, huh?"

Your eyes fly open, startled, but with the way he's fucking into you, he can feel the way you clench at his words.

"A needy, fucking dumb bitch who wants the pizza boy to fuck her stupid, 's that right?" He takes his hand and grabs your throat, "What if I was a serial killer, darling?"

He puts a little bit of pressure on either side of your throat, careful to keep his palm touching your collarbone. He likes how big his hands are compared to your neck.

You try to let out a sound, but it comes out garbled with the way he's got his grip around your throat. You clench around him again.

"Dumb little whore wants some stranger to come in and fuck her stupid and strangle her? You like that?" He feels feral. He feels insane. But you feel so good around him as he brutally thrusts into you, and you clearly feel good, too as your walls start to tighten and flutter around him.

"That's right, isn't it, dollface?" He coos in a what could be a sweet way, but is instead cruel, "Why don't you cum for me so you can milk me dry?"

And just like the good girl you are, you cum on command, your entire body going taut, back arching up off the bed, with the weight of his hand and palm holding you down by your neck.

As he starts to cum, he stops thrusting into you, instead starting to suck and pinch at your nipples so that you keep spasming around him. He eases off your neck, but can tell that you'll probably have some bruising.

His cock twitches once more, pushing a last spurt deep inside your cushy pussy.

You're already nodding off, and Yoichi can't help but watch in fascination as his cums oozes out of you as he pulls out of you. He really doesn't want to pull out; you're still warm and soft around him.

He goes to the bathroom to clean himself up, at least a little bit, and returns to find you scrolling on your phone, sheet thrown over yourself haphazardly. You blink up at him, still looking a little dopey.

You don't say anything more as Yoichi puts his uniform back on. He feels more himself now that he's not heated, and is slightly embarrassed by his behavior.

He turns to say something to you, and finds you waving small fistful of cash with a smirk on your face.

"Sorry, I meant that I keep some cash in the mattress on my bed."

How you manage to say this with a straight face is beyond Yoichi, but he likes the mischievous glint in your eye.

He strides over to grab the cash; when he turns to leave, you nab his wrist with your other hand. He turns to look back.

"Is this your usual shift?" You cock your head to the side and Yoichi is so startled by the question that he doesn't think, just nods his head. "Cool, guess I'll be having weekly pizza night on Tuesdays then, huh?" Your grin is wicked as you let go of his hand.

He blinks at you, but you go back to scrolling on your phone.

Yoichi glances at the clock and realizes that his shift is almost over. Well, not a terrible way to end the day.

As he makes his way back to your front door, you call out one more time, "Hey, can you lock the door from the doorknob when you leave, Yoichi?"

He flushes at the casual way you use his name, but makes some vague noise of affirmation as he locks the knob and walks out.

Nagi Seishiro: STREAMER GIRL FORGETS TO TURN OFF WEBCAM!

You're not well-known. Seishiro happened to stumble upon you while looking for someone else who played an extremely niche indie game. You were streaming for friends, it seemed, if the way you were interacting with chat was any indication.

You were cute, Seishiro supposes, but he was more impressed with the way you both casually talked and bantered with chat and managed to take out enemies without batting an eye.

He only managed to lurk for a little bit before you noticed an additional viewer, as your viewer count wasn't even at 10.

"Oh?" your head cocks to the side, "There's a new face. Hi there, toolazytomakeausername! I like the username!" You let out a peal of laughter. "Hope that you enjoy the stream!"

That was a few months ago, and he realized that for whatever reason, your Discord account wasn't working, and so you had temporarily moved to Twitch for your weekly streams with friends. He had somehow ended up roped into a server with you and friends who took turn streaming a wide variety of games week to week. The first time that Seishiro streamed to the group, he was met by a startling silence.

"Mmmm, hi? Is my mic working?" He hopes it is because he's not going to do any extra work to fix it if it isn't.

"Fuck, Nagi," one of your friends who always has something to say is unsurprisingly the one to break the silence, "You're hot!"

Seishiro doesn't know if she's messing with him, but then he hears someone else chime in with a "Damn, dude, you are not what I was expecting at all."

"Okay, okay, stop bothering him!" Your voice cuts through the increasing chatter about Seishiro and his looks, "We're here to watch him play Don't Feed It, not talk about how attractive he is!"

Seishiro raises his eyebrows and speaks for the first time, "So, you do think I'm attractive, though?"

The VC explodes, but he can't hear your response, if you give one at all.

"Whatever," he drawls, "I'm starting."

And so he starts the game and the chatter dies down. There's some ribbing to each other about how they have a new hot guy in the server, severely pissing off Sunarin, who was the previously known as the server's Pretty Boy.

He gets through the game in about 20 minutes, which was a main reason he chose it, so he could then pass the stream off to someone else.

When he was done, you had DM'd him a single word: Yes.

He was momentarily confused, but then remembered the question that he had asked before starting the game. He smiles to himself and feels something deep in his gut pull. He had been watching you for weeks, and the more he watched you, the more he wanted to never stop watching.

Everything from how you flipped your hair every time you completed an in-game accomplishment, to the way your eyes lit up when you found something particularly challenging, and even the way you would sometimes lean forward when you got really into a game…usually giving him a decent view down the cami that you always seemed to be wearing… It all lit a fire in his stomach, and he'd be a liar if he said that he hadn't thought about leaning you over your desk and fucking you right on camera.

Today, you're streaming at a weird hour because something about your work hours being shifted originally, five other people from the group, including Nagi, planned to hop on and watch you finally get to the Resident Evil 4 remake that you somehow haven't gotten around to playing yet. However, there was some terrible storm across different parts of the country (and globe) that left a handful of folks from the server without power.

Which is how you end up DMing Seishiro and asking if he's still down to watch you play. Which, of course he is.

You two decide that it just makes more sense to just start a video call in your DMs rather than take up space on the server.

The first hour or so goes well, with Seishiro agreeing with most of your commentary about the updates to the game. With it being just the two of you, he feels more at ease giving his own commentary here and there, instead of just general sounds of acknowledgment, or even his usual MO of just keeping himself muted.

"You sure are talkative today, huh, Nagi?" Your voice is bright, but your eyes are laser focused on the lake monster scene.

"I can't have you talking to yourself all the time, can I? That would be such a drag," he pauses and watches your face completely lock into the game, "And besides, it's nice getting to spend time with such a pretty girl."

Your finger slips and you accidentally shoot the water, immediately getting you killed.

Nagi was half hoping that you weren't listening, because he's seen you when you look like that and you never respond to anyone. You're, like, the epitome of locked in.

"What-?" you look from your screen to where Nagi assumes you are on your second monitor.

He panics and exits the chat.

Then, he takes a few deep breaths because it's not like it's the first flirtatious thing that's happened between the two of you. It's just the first one that's been actually on screen not via DM, and also without anyone else around. It's funny when other people are around, right? There was something really intimate about saying something not even sexual while it's just the two of you on a video call.

He sighs. What a fucking bother. He doesn't want to deal with the ramifications, so he clicks back on your chat and gets the surprise of his life.

Instead of seeing you back to crossing the perilous Del Lago, he finds you running your hands up and down your cami, headphones still on, head thrown back against your chair.

What a sight for sore eyes.

He very carefully mutes his mic and watches as you pinch your nipples and grab your breasts. He knows that maybe he should say something, but he's lost all coherent thought at watching one of his fantasies come to life right before his very eyes.

When you pull out your breasts over the hemline of your top, he is immediately grateful that he muted himself because he lets out a deep groan. He's wanted to see your tits forever, always staring at the way they jiggle when you bounce in excitement, or thinking of how nice it would be to shove his face in them when you lean forward to try and read some god awful font that an indie dev thought looked "spooky" but is actually illegible.

You keep running your hands over your breasts in teasing touches, and eventually draw your knees up to your chest to reveal that you're only wearing some silk panties on your bottom half. Seishiro wants to take them off of you with his teeth.

You start to grip your own thighs, lightly brushing against the clear wet spot forming on the silk, and hiss every time your fingers skirt the hem of the underwear.

Seishiro's boner is uncomfortable at this point, so he slips down his pajama pants and boxes just enough so that his cock can spring free and bounce lightly against his stomach.

He starts stroking himself as some form of relief as he watches you press your fingers underneath your panties and into yourself. He thinks about how wet and soft you must feel, and how tiny your hands are compared to his.

His mind runs wild, thinking about what his fingers would feel like pressed up into you like that, what your hand would feel like instead of his pumping his cock. For a moment he pictures himself fucking into you and how amazing your pussy would feel stretched out over his dick.

You let out a tiny little noise, and Nagi is so glad that he's kept his headphones on because the sound goes straight to his dick and he let's out a matching groan. You have one hand groping your breast, the other has completely pushed your underwear to the side as you finger yourself slowly, while using your thumb to stroke your clit. He can see your slick running down your hand every time you pull out of yourself.

Seishiro is pretty sure that even with the three fingers you're fucking yourself with, his dick would still be a stretch. The thought pushes him right to the edge, and he slows down, not quite wanting to finish yet, but entire body clenched as he slows down his strokes.

He watches in reverence as your body goes taut and you keep your fingers lodged firmly inside of you while continuing to rub circles on your clit and stroke your nipple. You let out a very clear moan.

"Nagi~"

If he hadn't been right on the precipice, he might have been more startled, but instead he cums basically untouched, with his cock spurting ropes of cum on his stomach. He keeps his eyes open just to watch you ride out your orgasm while continuing to whimper his name.

Fucking Christ.

He strokes the last bit of his own orgasm out of himself and watches as your body goes limp, and you slowly take your fingers out of yourself, sticky and pulling out a string of your own slick.

Seishiro licks his lips subconsciously.

Then, you look directly into the camera, which, to be clear, you didn't even do during streams and chats. He looks right into your sleepy eyes, but then drops down to your lips as you lick your own essence off of your fingers, sucking on them in a sluggish way that has Nagi almost drooling.

Imagine his surprise when you pull your fingers out of your mouth with a pop, smile, and languidly say, "You can come off mute, now, Nagi. Next time you should join me."

Mikage Reo: SUGAR DADDY FUCKS SUGAR BABY IN NEW CAR!

Reo lucked out with you. He's had other sugar babies before, but you were something special. Really! He knows that's what everyone thinks, but you really are something special.

Your hair is so shiny, your skin is so soft, and you can keep up with conversation about just about anything. There's never a single eyelash out of place when he sees you, your smile could break hearts, and despite all of these wonderful traits, you were obedient.

As he pulls up his new Porsche to your apartment, he thinks you look stunning in the sundress that he bought you earlier that week. Even with your four inch heels, you just barely are chin height.

You smile sweetly at him, even though you can't see through the tinted windows. He can see a few onlookers not so subtly watching you as you bend down on the sidewalk to open the door handle and feels something tug in his stomach. It's not a familiar feeling, but he feels it whenever anyone so much as looks your way whenever you're out.

Reo has remedied this recently by tinting his car windows and taking you back to his penthouse. But he doesn't like the way that one neighbor of yours who is always outside smoking is looking at you as you climb into his car.

"What is that fucker's problem?" Reo reaches over and slams the door as soon as you're inside, then leans over and buckles your seatbelt for you.

"Who? What's got you all heated already?" You let out a windchime laugh and Reo immediately feels himself relax. He glances out the window, though, and he swears that fuck is somehow looking right at him.

"That weirdo who's always staring at you and smoking whenever you also happen to be outside!"

"Oh my god, Reo, are you talking about Sato? He's my neighbor and he's super sweet. I think that we had a class together at some point during university," your smile turns wicked, "Are you jealous?"

Reo pulls over to the side of the road suddenly. A car honks as it drives by but Reo doesn't react at all. It isn't a particularly busy street, but definitely residents of the apartment buildings coming and going.

He looks at you and likes that you shrink back just a little, even if there's still that defiant look in your eye that he loves to turn into a glass eyed stare with his cock shoved into you.

"What if I am?" Reo smiles sweetly and reaches out to grab your chin, "You know you're mine, right? I do everything I can to protect you, to make sure some creep doesn't harass you. I pick you up, I bring you to places I trust, hell, you basically live at my place on the weekends. What if I am jealous of some kid who thinks you're pretty and likes to eyeball you like a piece of meat?"

He can see your resolve breaking as his voice drops lower and quieter with each sentence. You start to lean into his touch and he knows that he's got you.

"Why don't you come sit on my lap so I can remind you who you belong to and who gets to play with you." It's a demand, not a question, and he can already feel blood rushing to his cock as you climb over the center console and perch yourself on his thighs.

"So good, aren't you?" He kisses along your jaw and runs his hands up and down your bare arms, "How could I not be jealous, doll? Someone as young and pretty as you with some old fuck over a decade older than you? Of course I get insecure sometimes."

Despite the lie, you turn to putty in his hands as you tell him how much you like him and how you only want to be with him and how good he treats you and boys your age just can't pleasure you like he can.

Wait, what?

He wraps your hair around his hand in one smooth moment and yanks, "What do you mean boys your age can't pleasure you like me? How the fuck would you know that?"

Your eyes widen in panic, but there's the underlying languid expression that you get when you're turned on. "I mean, you know when you said that you wanted to see other people? A few months ago?"

Reo wants to beat himself over the head. He had gotten drunk one night and accidentally texted you that instead of the other sugar baby that he had been seeing. It was this whole dramatic week of Reo frantically trying to play it cool until he finally just told you that he didn't mean that and he wanted you back in his life, which you happily agreed to without any suspicion or malice.

What he didn't realize was that apparently you had not just been heartbroken in your apartment for that week but had gone out to be a fucking whore.

"While I wish I could throttle whoever thought they could even try and make you feel a fraction of the way I do, I'll just have to remind you why you can never leave instead," Reo hasn't let go of your hair, and he pulls your head back slightly more, exposing your neck. He loves the way you go pliant.

When he starts to press kisses up and down your neck, you sigh. He's wearing the perfume that he bought for you a few months ago that you took a liking to. It smells amazing on you. He can't help it when he starts to graze his teeth against the side of your neck.

"Reo, not where it'll be visi-" you cut yourself off with a deep groan as he bites and sucks, hard, while groping your ass with his hands.

"Reo?" He whispers against your neck, "Is that how you think of me?"

He squeezes your cheeks apart and starts to suck on your collarbone.

"No," you sigh out harshly.

"No?" he nibbles on your ear and pulls your hips down so that you're grinding down on his hard-on. He feels your slick through his slacks and realizes with a start that you aren't wearing any underwear.

"Daddy!" you let out a scream when he rubs himself up against you.

"That's right, sweetheart," he nuzzles down your neck before pulling your tits out above the hemline of your dress.

You really are a perfect, little, tight body that he never wants to stop fucking. He loves the way your tits bounce as you grind down against him shamelessly. He likes knowing that you trust him enough to fuck him in broad daylight, and he kind of wants to flip you around so that everyone can watch you ride him, boobs bouncing, and mouth open into a perfect little "o" that always makes him want to fuck your face.

But not today. Today he wants everyone to know he's fucking a young, pretty thing like you, without letting anyone actually get a good look at you.

He puts his hands on your hips to stop you from grinding down against him, and you immediately start whining.

"Nuh-uh," Reo laughs at how you're already looking a little fucked out. Your hair is already falling out of its messy bun, wisps framing your pretty face, pieces falling out and tumbling down onto your back. "I don't want you to do any work so that you can remember how good I can make you feel without any help. Not even yours."

You let out a low groan and he chuckles again.

"Here, stay still. Don't move, okay, baby?" He lifts you up off of him and you pout down at him. He almost feels bad. But then he moves his hand to underneath your dress and starts running his fingers up and down your thighs. You attempt to press into his touch, but his other hand has an iron grip on you. "No, what did I say? Stay still, yeah?"

"Not fair!" You look at him with watery eyes as he slowly starts alternating between rubbing your clit and just barely pressing his finger into your slit while tracing it up and down.

He actually laughs; he can't help it! You're so cute! You're also dripping wet, so much so that he shoves two fingers into you without much issue. He feels you attempt to fuck yourself on his fingers, but then you stop.

"Good girl." You clench around him.

"Re- Daddy, please, I need you inside of me, please," your voice goes high and whiny and it goes straight to Reo's dick.

"Oh? But I am inside of you." For emphasis, he shoves his fingers knuckles deep and curls them to hit your soft spot.

You let out the most wanton moan.

"Please, please, please, please, plea-"

Reo cuts off your begging (because he really can't take it and would do absolutely anything you asked) by removing his fingers and replacing them with his dick in one smooth movement.

It's so fast that you don't have time to meet him halfway as he hip thrusts up into you. The sight in front of him is absolutely lewd. Your tits hanging out and bouncing up and down with each stroke, tears running down your face, perfectly manicured nails gripping his freshly pressed shirt. Your sundress is long enough that he can't see his dick sliding in and out of you, and for that he's grateful because whenever he looks at how big he is compared to you, he gets lightheaded and has to stop himself from cumming on the spot.

Reo loves how tight you are, like his own personal fleshlight. He finds himself fucking you as fast as possible because the reality is he never wants to not be inside of you. As usual, you turn into basically a rag doll as he fucks you stupid, barely holding yourself up as you slump over and pant broken moans and sounds of pleasure into his ear while he holds you up by your hips and rails you. He changes the angle slightly so that each time he thrusts into you, your clit brushes up against his pelvic bone. He knows that he's got the angle right when you start to tighten around him each time he rams into you.

You start to make the tiniest mewing sounds as you get closer to finishing, and Reo feels his lips curl up. There's nothing better than feeling your sweet pussy cum on his dick; he keeps his pace and angle until your breath hitches and you let out a high-pitched moan.

"Daddy, please, daddy, yes, please fuck me, fuck me, fuck me-"

You keep babbling nonsense as you spasm around him, which Reo is pretty sure what heaven must feel like as he continues fucking into your pulsing hole. You go completely limp, with your pussy clenching a bit in the aftershocks of your orgasm, and Reo somehow picks up the pace, without needing to worry about the angle of hitting your clit. He goes absolutely feral as you go almost completely limp until he's pumping his cum into you, sucking on your tit, and gripping your waist so hard that you'll have bruises the next day.

(Which doesn't matter because it's a weekend so you'll have bruises all over you once Reo is done completely ravishing you for two days straight.)

He feels his dick pulse one more time before he slowly pull you off of him. He lifts your skirt up to see his own cum dripping out of you, thighs sticky with both his and your own fluids.

He can't help as he keeps your skirt lifted and slowly fucks his liquid back into you.

"Ah, Reo, sensitive…" your voice trails off, and your head leans against the window.

He's just so fascinated at how you manage to fit him. He's sure by the time he's made the fifteen minute drive to his place, he'll be ready for round two.

"Keep this inside of you, sweetheart," he pulls out, but quickly places your own palm over your folds, to which you jump and let out a yelp at your overstimulated clit being brushed up against.

"Mmmm, yes, daddy," your voice is still syrupy like honey as he lightly places you back in the passenger seat and buckles you back in.

He cleans himself up a bit with some wipes from the center console, and remerges onto the street, smirking at the group of young men who were not so conspicuously glancing at you both through his windshield.

"Reo?" your eyes are closed and head up against the window.

"Yes, doll?"

"I ran out of that perfume today. I used it all up finally."

You're such a brat. You never really ask for anything. But there are signs.

You knew the answer was definitely no. But the mere glimpse of the Onychinus leader beneath you, at your mercy, was enough to make you push through the thrilling fear coursing through your veins.

With Sylus’s chiseled body unwillingly sprawled out before you, you situated yourself in between his thighs. Though his words and expression were laced with a cautionary edge, his legs spread open for you. 

His wrists were bound with the two silver cuffs you’d purchased at a novelty store on girls day out with Tara, each hand simultaneously locked to the steel beams of your bed’s headboard. With his arms bound above his head, his button up shirt rode up to expose his pale and scarred skin and the defined outlines of the chiseled pelvic muscles that lead to his manhood.

It wasn’t a stretch to say you’d planned this, after all you did buy the cuffs with Sylus in mind. And you’d never forget what Luke and Kieran had told you, in what felt like a lifetime ago. 

“Boss is most vulnerable when he’s sleeping.” 

Except now you weren’t binding him for the purpose of incapacitating him to find that damned brooch he’d taunted you with. Now, when he’d dozed off after you’d forced him to marathon the Harry Potter series with you, you tied him up with only one goal in mind.

Well maybe two. To tease and to punish.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you watch the way Sylus’s naval rises and falls irregularly, a subtle sign of his boiling anticipation. His exposed pelvis is dusted in a faint path of hair, trailing to where his pants hang dangerously low on his hips, after you’d taken his belt off. 

Sylus watches you with a careful eye as your hands find his waistband, tugging his bottoms and his boxers down in one motion. He tuts disapprovingly, even as his body lifts every so slightly to assist you in undressing him, “I’ve already warned you once. I won’t warn you again.” 

And yet, there’s an undeniable amusement in his voice that lets you know it’s safe to keep going. Your eye contact never breaks as you tug his clothing all the way down, until they rest at his ankles. His hardening cock springs free as you do so, the thick mushroom head already leaking a shiny streak of precum. As it slaps against his abdomen, Sylus’s carmine irises darken, but he refuses to make any sounds. The screech of steel rattling against steel is loud in the tense air, the formidable man’s fists clenched so tightly his nails threaten to break his skin. 

You bend down slowly, torturously languid, until his masculine scent invades your senses. You shiver in pleasure, positively addicted to every part of him. Sylus’s stomach heaves as he curses you inwardly; you were the only devilish minx that could even fathom rendering him into this vulnerable state. The only person he’d ever allow to see him like this. 

“You’ve become quite bold, little bird. Perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you.”

His cocky attitude makes you want to shiver, but you find the strength to retort back, “Perhaps you have.”

Not wanting to give him a chance to respond, and a chance for you to lose your courage, you let your tongue run over the thick tip of his erection, collecting his arousal on your tongue. You make a show of savoring his taste, letting your eyes bat at him while you lick him clean. 

Sylus is hypnotized, crunching up to watch you. His wrists pull against the metal restraints, growing irritated with being held back. Of course, if he’d wanted to, he could snap the cuffs with a mere tick of his fingers, but he found it amusing to watch his mischievous little bird believe she had control. 

When you take his head fully into your lips, Sylus’s hips involuntarily buck up into the heaven that is your mouth. Though surprised, you do your best to accommodate the extra inches, tongue twirling around his leaking slit as your jaw unhinges to take in his fat girth. 

“Fuck.” 

Sylus’s dark eyebrows are scrunched as he fights the urge to destroy the cuffs to get to you, wanting nothing more than to sink his fingers into your hair and push you down until you couldn’t breathe. But he prided himself as a man of patience, even if he despised being tested. 

And you were absolutely testing him. Your puffy lips caressed his sensitive veins, tongue assaulting every flaming nerve of his massive length, delicate and soft fingers leaving no inch of him untouched. Yet you moved so languidly. Deliberately testing how far you could push him, testing his resolve. Not that he would ever beg, but he desperately wished you’d move faster, take him deeper. 

“My love,” he purrs, deceptively calm even as your filthy tongue lathered his most sensitive parts, “I implore you to release me. While I’m still feeling generous.” 

Doing your best to shut him up, you take him into the back of your throat, fingers shifting from the base of his manhood to his heavyset balls. You’re only half successful in your antics, as you do cut off Sylus’s demands, only to be replaced by an inexplicable string of curses. The daunting leader of the Onychinus, whose name evoked fear itself to most, unraveled at your whims. A man who had no weaknesses, save for one.

You.

With his head thrown back, hair tousled and matted with a thin layer of sweat, he began to pant heavily. His neck bobbed deeply to the rhythm of his gasps, hands pulling against the restraints you’d locked him into. The sound of metal clashing against metal is almost deafening, your head snapping up to his arms bound above his head. 

For a second you’d feared he’d snapped the steel cuffs, his biceps rippling and forearm veins bulging with the sheer strength of his arms. But fortunately for you, his wrists were still firmly bound, a red angry circle forming where the metal met the pale skin of his hands. 

“Do you really think – hah – this will end well for you, dove?” Sylus considers this your very last warning, crunching up once again to watch you, your mouth full of his cock, saliva dribbling down your chin as you try to accommodate his thickness. He swears under his breath at the sight of you, his woman, the only person he’d ever even consider letting his guard down around, pleasuring him so sweetly and enthusiastically. Even if you were so foolish that you thought you could get away with typing him up. 

You look up innocently at him, fluttering your eyelashes as you fuck him with your mouth. Though you let him hit the back of your throat every time, your rhythm is intentionally and torturously slow, edging him without making it obvious enough for punishment. And although each intentional motion elicits the most mind numbing grip from your gag reflex on his throbbing erection, he’s losing his mind from how much more he wants. How much more he needs. 

“Faster.”

You nearly choke as you giggle at his demands, releasing his cock with a resounding pop. Of course, even tied up, Sylus didn't use the word ‘please.’ The man of unthinkable power was absolutely used to getting what he wanted without even batting an eye. It was a habit that he rarely relented on, and when he did it was only for you. 

“What’s the magic word?”

Sylus glowered at you, jaw twitching dangerously as he did his best to hold himself back, “Watch it.” 

It was truly taking every ounce of willpower he had to not rip the cuffs off the steel beams of your bed, taking your headboard apart with it. All so he could have more.

“Sylus,” you pout, still using your hands to gingerly stroke him with a featherlike touch. Nothing intense enough to get him off. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to say ‘please’ when asking for something?” You give him a pointed squeeze, thumb stroking the underside of his swollen head. 

He curses, pelvis thrusting up into your fist to try and chase the pleasure you’re withholding from him, “Fuck, if you’re going to act like a brat, I’m going to treat you like one.”

“I just want to hear the words ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ Please. See how easy that is?”

“Y/N, my heart,” Sylus purrs lowly, eyes glinting dangerously, “I won’t tolerate any more disobedience.”

“Well then you don’t get what you want.” As soon as the words left your mouth you knew you’d regret them. 

Before you can even blink, you find yourself pressed firmly into the mattress, your head hanging off the side, hair dangling freely. The air feels strangely brisk, and you can vaguely feel your nipples hardening. It’s then you realize you’re naked. But you hadn’t felt Sylus lay a single finger on you.

His Evol.

You’d become so accustomed to Sylus’s Evol that you no longer felt its slightly suffocating  invisible web when it touched you, unlike when you’d first met him in the N109 zone. The countless times he’d use his Evol to guide your lips to his, your hand into his larger ones, or to undress you, had actually made you quite fond of the touch of his Evol. 

Little did you know that Sylus had actually been practicing lightening up the intensity of it, for you. He’d always detested seeing the uncomfortable scrunch of your eyebrows, the hostile goosebumps that would raise where his Evol touched you. So he’d absolved himself to train the claws of his Evol to soften, instead becoming that of a gentle caress. Only for you, of course. For everyone else, they got the skin-shredding talons that parents warned about in cautionary tales to their children. 

Hanging upside down, the glint of the ceiling light against the silver cuffs hanging off your headboard catches your eye, snapping you from your thoughts. The metal loops were still completely intact, but unlocked. Of course you knew he’d use his Evol to escape eventually, but it still surprised you how he managed to do it so effortlessly. Graceful in everything he did. 

You try to sit up, but Sylus’s hand wraps itself softly around your throat and holds you back down. He tsks scornfully, a playful warning in the swirling glowing cerise of his eyes. His grip is gentle enough where you can still speak normally. Rough enough where you want more.

So you pout childishly, “It’s just like you to use your Evol for such cheap tricks.” 

From beneath his towering frame, you can just barely see him raise his perfectly arched eyebrow. Most of him is obstructed by his massive erection pressed at your nose, menacingly imposing before you. “Cheap? Doll, there’s nothing cheap about me. And nothing cheap about the things I’m going to do to you.”

You shiver involuntarily at his threats, your thighs clenching together in anticipation. Sylus’s words were always harsh, but when it came to you there was always such a profound sincerity and gentleness behind his actions, even when he was brutally devouring your body. So the danger edged into his words only served to excite you, fueling the dampness that had formed between your legs. 

And of course, his perfect cock dangling in front of your lips, still glistening with a sheen of his arousal and your saliva. Hanging so closely to your waiting tongue, but never touching. That definitely did not help the throbbing ache in between your thighs. 

“I think you’ve had enough fun, don’t you agree?”

Feeling daringly bold, you playfully curse him, “Screw y–” But before you can finish getting the words out, Sylus grips your jaw, shoving himself into your waiting mouth. The force he uses is enough to make your eyes roll back, the feeling of being full of him making you forget what you’d wanted to say to begin with. You’re careful to pull back your teeth as he finds his way to one of his favorite places, the back of your throat. 

“Let’s give that mouth something to do, other than run itself, hmm?”

You groan in response, letting the vibrations of your throat speak for you. Sylus grunts, removing his hand from your throat and weaving it into your hair like he’d wanted to earlier. His grip is strong, just hard enough that you feel an immense pleasure from the stinging pull. With a firm hand on your scalp, he fucks into your face, his meticulously groomed hair brushing against your nose at every thrust. 

His speed and vigor is relentless, not that you’d complain even if you could. The feeling of Sylus driving in and out of your throat, like you were a fleshlight, had your body vibrating with need, clit throbbing in ecstasy. How you could feel this good just sucking his cock was beyond you. Your unrestrained moans were an absolute orchestra to his ears, the vibrations running through every nerve ending in his erection, causing him to release a string of his own sounds 

“You’re so – hah – exquisite like this, dove. Choking on my cock instead of your words.”

You whine at him, so unbelievably turned on by the filthy way he speaks to you. His skin slaps against your wet mouth, and an obscene amount of drool mixed with precum drips off your cheeks and onto the carpeted floor beneath you. You loll your tongue out to try and catch his copious dribbles of precum, not wanting to waste any part of him. 

“I can see my cock in your throat, sweetheart,” he cooed, using a hand to brush against your throat, where his erection bulges against your neck each time he fucks into you. 

Tears streamed from your eyes as Sylus’s pace increased, gripping onto your hair for even more leverage against your beautiful face. 

“Crying already? Not feeling so bold anymore, my love?” 

You ignore his patronizing words, trying to focus instead on your own pleasure. With one hand still gripping the hard muscles of his bubbly rear, your other hand wanders to the quivering area between your thighs, fiddling with the bundle of nerves that was slick with your arousal. You desperately seek to relieve some of the tension building up in your gut, all from just Sylus’s cock in your mouth.

But before you can give yourself any inkling of pleasure, you feel a familiar force of energy pulling your hand away. 

“I don’t recall giving you permission to touch yourself.”

You nearly sob at his words. You want to speak, plead with him to touch you, or at least let you touch yourself, pride be damned. But his unbelievable girth makes it impossible to do anything but devour him repeatedly.

The white haired man above you watches you carefully, swearing at how your tear soaked face makes his resolve to punish you crumble ever so slightly. Taking pity on you, he brings your hand to his, weaving his long fingers into yours. You hold his hand tightly, enjoying the way his much larger hand clasps into yours, fingers digging into your sensitive flesh.

“Good girl,” he coos in praise, voice tinged with a condescension that makes your skin crawl in excitement, “You don’t touch what’s mine, unless I say, hm?”

You look up at him with wide wet eyes, nodding obediently as he continues to ravage your face. He pressed your hand deeper into the mattress, his thrusts becoming so intense that you knew you’d have a hard time speaking tomorrow, your throat battered and bruised. 

From your position, you don’t see the glowing light that emanates from your joined fingers. But Sylus does, and he watches in a concealed wonder at the way you can so easily resonate with him now. You didn’t even need to try, a single touch was all it took. It was a testament to how much you’d grown to trust him. 

No, it was a testament to the deep love and respect you’d both come to hold for each other. You’d both definitely come a long way from when he’d captured, or when you let him capture, you at the N109 zone all that time ago. The thought of that threatens to make Sylus shiver as he continues to ram himself deep into your warm wet throat. He watched the way you took him so eagerly, hand gripping his for dear life, your other hand coming up to stroke his heavyset balls as they slapped against your face. The way your poor little throat bulged every time he thrusted into it, the bump so visible to his hungry crimson eyes.

Oh, how you ruined him. He’d fucking marry you.

Your jaw ached, having been open as widely as possible for far too long now, but you did your best to continue to take him. The feeling of him using your mouth was more than enough to keep you growing wetter, needing more. Your thighs squeezed together, as you rocked into nothing, wanting nothing more than to feel any friction between your legs.

Sylus watched as you pathetically tried to find pleasure in the empty air, nearly growling at how arousing the sight was. He was fueled with such an intense desire and love for you, nothing like he’d ever felt before. And that love and desire was enough for him to concede, if even just a little bit, for you.

“You’re lucky I’m feeling…charitable today, my dove,” he murmurs, releasing your hair and bending over your body. His erection never leaves your mouth, but he hovers so that your sight is filled with the view of his solid abdominal muscles. You cry out against his member when the familiar feel of his fingers finds your clit. You gasp out, choking on him, your hips jolting up eagerly to meet his torrid touch.

Sylus chuckles, a satisfied smirk making its way onto his unfairly gorgeous face, “Look at how eager you are…all this just from the taste of cock?”

Not able to respond, you hump up into his hand, squeezing your eyes shut in embarrassment of how desperate you were for him. Sylus only gives you a pointed thrust into your throat, making you gag deliciously around him again.

“Such an insatiable little bird,” he murmured, fingers expertly toying with you.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart,” his skilled ministrations never stopping, “I wish you could see how lovely you look with your mouth full.” 

Your eyes rolled back when he entered you, one finger at a time. He cursed at how tightly you gripped just one of his fingers. He had half a mind to just bury himself into your perfect cunt right then and there. And that’s just what he’d do. He was never used to not indulging in what he wanted, why stop now?

You felt the familiar shift in energy, a gentle hold on your body, until you found yourself laying on the middle of your bed, Sylus situated between your knees, fingers still toying with you. Your neck screaming in relief at the plush surface, mind reeling from the sudden shift. 

The white haired man bends to hover over you, free hand caressing your jaw, his frighteningly beautiful face before yours, “Hello, my love.”

Your voice is hoarse, sounding unfamiliar, “Hi.” It’s nothing more than a pitiful squeak.

Sylus chuckles, his chest rumbling warmly at your adorably vulnerable state, “How’s your throat?”

You glare at him, trying to steady your raspy voice, “Don’t patronize me.”

He smirks, not the least bit apologetic, but says, “Forgive me, love.” He doesn’t give you a chance to sass him further, instead bringing your chin up to his. His lips slot onto yours, deceptively slow at first and quickly progressing to a vigor that matched the way he’d rammed himself into your throat. 

The bruising intensity of the kiss made your mind muddle, your hands coming up to grasp his neck to ground you. You gasped at the feeling of his heartbeat pounding so forcefully in his neck. The familiar feeling of an earth shattering orgasm edges into your numbed mind, every heightened sense filled with Sylus and only Sylus.

You finally break away, propping yourself up on your elbows to watch him scissoring in and out of you, enough to have you on the brink of climaxing, “Sy-Sylus, I’m–”

Sylus reads you like the back of his hand, withdrawing his fingers and roughly grabbing your face to look up at him. You sob at the loss of friction, looking up at him with teary questioning eyes. 

The ceiling lights illuminate behind Sylus, forming a halo like ring atop his head. He was so hauntingly and terrifyingly beautiful. Not unlike that of a fallen angel, whose sole purpose was to ruin you. 

And just as you’re admiring him, Sylus looks down at you. Unbeknownst to you, he also considers you to be his very own angel sent from the heavens. Bringing light and salvation to the shadowed crevices of his soul.

But even then, he can’t help but tease you, the urge to see you ruined at his hand. An angel with tattered wings, so utterly spent with lust. “You don’t cum until I say, hm?” As if to punctuate his point, he puts his fingers, wet with your slick, in between your parted lips. The taste of you is strong on him, enough to distract you from Sylus, who’s lining up his more massive than ever erection with your weeping slit. 

“Come on, sweetheart. Suck. I know you can do better than that.”  

He presses his fingers harder onto your tongue, relishing in how warm you feel around him. At your adorable pouty glare, he pushes his leaking tip into you.

You yelp in surprise, biting down on his fingers in your mouth. Sylus hisses, but the pain only further arouses him, making him shove into you suddenly. Your hands come up to grasp his forearm, the veins bulging under your touch. 

The feeling of him entering you is so overwhelming, the only thing grounding you to the present was the way his fingers felt and tasted against your tongue. And so you devoured him in earnest, much to his satisfaction. 

It’s not long before he bottoms out, his head kisses your cervix, just enough to have your eyes rolling back, sparks of hot white pleasure clouding your vision. 

Sylus removes his fingers from your mouth, bringing his thumb to his own lips and brushing it across his parted mouth, his other fingers outstretched as he licks across his thick thumb. You whimper at the sight, so unbelievably seductive he has to be doing it on purpose. 

“You always taste divine.” His movements have all but halted completely, his thick girth just sitting inside of you, brushing against your womb. And even though the stretch is enough to practically compress your lungs, you want more. 

“D-Don’t tease Sylus,” you whine pathetically, “Fuck me.” 

The smile on his face is as cocky as ever, the corner of his lips curving up, as sharp as his edged jaw. 

“So bold. Do you really think you’re in any position to make demands?”

He gives you just one pointed thrust, cockhead nestling so deliciously into your sweetest spots, but stopping just at that. You cry out, fingers gripping the comforter so tightly your knuckles turn white. 

“If I recall correctly…someone once told me something about saying…what was it? ‘Please’ and ‘thank you’?”

He grins down at you, bending forward so that he hovers right over your face. He would never let you know but the pouty grimace on your lust glowing face was nearly enough to have him caving into your every whim, punishment forgotten in the wind. 

“Hm? So what do we say, sweetheart?”

With his cock situated so perfectly in you, it’s impossible for you to do anything but follow his every command, no matter how much it bruises your ego.

“P-Please?”

His smirk deepens, fingers cupping your chin up to face him, “You can do better than that, Y/N.”

You groan as he shifts, giving you just the tiniest bit of friction where it mattered. You do your best to find the confidence, “Please Sylus.”

There’s the faintest flicker of darkness in his eyes, a twitch of unraveling at the way you effortlessly purr his name. If you had any idea the things you did to him, the mighty and fearless leader of the Onychinus, it would be his absolute undoing. 

“Please what, my dove? Come on, use that beautiful voice of yours.”

Before you can let out your snarky response, his fingers travel to your neck, stroking your sensitive pulse gently before pressing down to compress your airway. 

“Or is this throat only good for taking my cock?”

You whine at his words, patience absolutely gone. You wrap your legs around his waist and force him closer. A pathetic attempt to get him to thrust into you. Your hands come up to the back of his neck, and your tear glistening eyes search his pleadingly. He’s taken aback by the sudden shift, a small gasp escaping his parted lips. In his surprise, he lets himself be guided to you, his forehead falling to lay atop yours, his breath fanning against your own. 

“Please Sylus, please fuck me. I’m sorry, I’ll be a good girl. Please.”

The curse that leaves Sylus’s voice is barely perceptible as he drinks you in. Your cheeks were still streaked with tears, your eyes wide and glassy. Your lips were puffy from his bruising kisses, and cheeks heated with desire. There was absolutely nothing in the universe that could match how utterly gorgeous you were. His gorgeous woman. His to ruin. 

His voice low with longing and hunger, “Fuck, okay love. I’ll give you what you want.”

He manipulates the energy around you, raising your arm above your hand. His slender fingers dance up your exposed skin, until they find your fingers. His nails graze your inflamed skin, fingers toying with yours. For a brief moment, he enjoys how much smaller your hand feels in his. His delicate little bird.

“Hold on tight.”

Your fingers grip his, your nails digging in when he finally pulls his cock out, leaving only his head still snuggly inside. Without giving you a second to breathe, he’s plummeting himself back into your sopping cunt. Your combined slick ensures there’s zero resistance, only the sounds of wet slaps filling the space between you. 

Sylus’s forehead still rests against yours, his free arm bent above your head, helping support him as he fucks you with a painfully delicious intensity. Your cunt milks him perfectly, the warmth far too inviting and the tightness much too constricting. His fingers grip yours forcefully, trying to offset the way your pussy tries to suck the living soul out of him. 

“Sy-Sylus,” you cry out, nails digging crescents into his skin, your other hand coming up to rake red scratches into his back, “Slow – ngh – slow down!” Your brain is a jumbled mess, confused at the words your tongue lets out when your body only wants more.

Sylus’s chuckle is low and almost sinister, his pace never relenting, “That’s funny. I recall you saying you’d be a good girl.” He shifts his weight to his knees, moving his palm to your naval, pressing down. You squeal at the feeling of his palm pressing into your stomach, your sensitive walls being compressed into his cock spearing in and out of you. 

“And good girls take what they’re given, hm?”  

Moans and whimpers are the only thing you’re capable of producing, his pace brutal, like he was trying to find his way into your throat from your cunt. You don’t notice his hand traveling further south until his thumb presses into your swollen clit, flicking hard. You screech, your back arching off the bed, giving him further access to your dripping cunt. 

“Answer me when I speak to you, sweetheart.” 

“Yes! Yes, I’m a good girl, I can take it!” you all but screamed, spine so arched you felt like you were levitating.

The erotic cries that leave your lips make it difficult for Sylus to think straight, so he doesn’t. He fucks you with a ferocity that was nothing short of animalistic, the only thing he can think of is how many different ways he can and will make you cum. 

He presses your joined palms deeper into the mattress, eyes searching yours desperately. For what, you were unsure. But as his scarlet irises bore into yours, you felt an overwhelming sense of emotion catch in your throat.

Propping yourself slightly on your elbows, you pressed your forehead to Sylus’s, his sweat dampened bangs fluttering against your eyelashes.You reach up to cup the back of his head, pulling him towards you. His right hand never leaves your clit, his left staying tightly clasped with yours.

He takes the opportunity to press his lips to yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. You moan into him as he claims you fully, thrusts moving in tandem with his tongue. It’s a torrid clash of tongue and teeth, enough passion to have the Aether core in your heart throbbing dangerously erratically. 

“Syluuus,” you slur as you pull away to breathe, “I-I’m..I’m gon–” You can’t get the words out, the tip of his cock against your cervix and fingers on your clit bringing you into another dimension, one filled with him. The scent, the sound, the feel, the sight of him. 

“I know. Getting so goddamn tight,” he grits out, jaw locking as he tries to steady himself against your vice grip. Sylus was a man of boundless stamina and restraint, but when it came to you… When it came to the absolute heaven that was your body, he could hold nothing back. 

Just as you neared your orgasm, Sylus stops again. You find your body being moved again, but this time Sylus’s hands are lifting you, and not his Evol. His strong arms lift you so that you’re sitting on his lap, your back pressed against his muscled chest, and his back leaned up against the bed.

He does however use his Evol to drag over the gold arched full-length mirror you had propped up against the corner of your bedroom, so that it sits right in front of the bed. Your vision is filled with the gleaming reflection of you, naked on Sylus’s lap, his arrogant smirk right by the top of your head. His muscular arms are draped over your thighs, spreading open your glistening folds, fully exposing you before the mirror. 

“Sylus s-stop. It’s embarrassing,” you whine, averting your gaze at the lewd sight, and the even filthier sounds of his fingers against your copious slick. But he grips your jaw firmly, turning you back to the mirror. 

“Look how beautiful you are,” he murmurs, lips pressed against your ear, “Look.” 

You puff your cheeks, fighting against his fingers.

“Look, love. Or you don’t get to cum,” he purrs in your ear.

You mutter sulkily, knowing full well his threats are anything but empty, “You’re evil.” 

But you obey diligently, letting his fingers guide your face forward. The sight before you is so unbelievably filthy, Sylus’s long fingers digging into your thighs to keep them spread open, his other fingers playing with your swollen lips. Even on his lap, he was a head taller than you, His soft white hair is matted with sweat, his cheeks dusted a peachy red with how vigorously he’d just been fucking you.

As your eyes meet in the mirror, Sylus lifts you from underneath your thighs, and spears you onto his cock. You cry out at the feeling of being stretched open again, Sylus’s own ecstasy fueled grunts in your ear.

With you atop him, his cock reaches so unbelievably deep inside you that you feel the tears returning. Your eyes screw shut as his tip repeatedly brushes against your cervix, the familiar pain quickly dulling into an intense pleasure. 

Suddenly you feel Sylus’s teeth at the crook of your neck, and arm coming across your chest to enclose over your entire throat. His sharp canines dig into the area where your neck meets your shoulder, biting just hard enough to make your eyes fly open to face his in the mirror. His eyebrows are quirked at you, amusement evident in his sharp ruby eyes.

He doesn’t speak, instead keeping his mouth attached to your pulse point. But the dark sultry heat swirling in his eyes that you can see reflected in the mirror is a clear and wordless command. 

Watch.

And who were you to disobey him, when his body brought this much pleasure to your own. 

So with your eyes locked on his in the mirror, Sylus begins to bounce you in earnest on his lap. And while you moan and whimper as he springs you so effortlessly on his cock, like you weighed nothing more than a mere toy, his own noises are muffled by his teeth that are sunk into your fluttering neck. 

His eyes never leave yours in the mirror, darkened underneath his eyebrows, glowing with red hot lust. The way he watches you is so intimately primal, like a predator toying with its prey before the kill. 

With his hungry gaze locking yours in place and the lewd wet sounds of slick skin pounding against one another, you feel the alarmingly rapid tightening of your abdomen that signals your orgasm. Sylus feels it too, your walls tightening so intensely that the outline of his veins might imprint into you. Your grip coaxes his own cock toward release, his jaw tightening as to keep himself in check. 

He releases your bruised skin, admiring how breathtaking you look with his marks on you. His hand leaves your clit to rest on your tummy, stroking the skin there. You can feel him use his Evol to keep you in place, only the raw strength of his thighs and abs keeping you in steady motion on his length. 

“Look,” he croons in your ear, teeth grazing against your sensitive earlobes, “Can you see where I am, dove? I’m allll the way here ” His husky voice drawls, hand on your abdomen pressing down. You can definitely see the distinct outline of something large thrusting in and out of you. Your eyes widen at the mirror, mesmerized at how your bodies connect, almost resonating on their own. Sylus’s eyes are also glued to the way the base of his cock, shiny with a ring of arousal, forces your tiny fluttering cunt to take him in all his glory.  

“Tell me how it feels, hm? Tell me how I make you feel.” When you don’t respond, too lost in the sight in the mirror, his fingers come back down to squeeze your clit,

“Sylus! – ngh – feels ssoo so good,” you simper, panting through the hold he still has on your throat, the pressure quickly becoming far too addicting, “I-I…”

“Hah,” he groans into your ear, “You what baby? Tell me.”

“M’gunna cuuum,” you wail as his angle shifts just slightly, cock driving into your g spot. Sylus knows just how to play with you, his fingers sending you to heaven and back repeatedly. He was so thick that you felt like he'd split you in two, your cunt and thighs being stretched to their limits against the sloppy friction.

“Hmmm, is my beautiful girl going to make a mess on me? Does she deserve to?”

The mere thought that he might deny your climax again has you sobbing, tears of anguished ecstasy rolling down your face as his pace picks up even further.

“P-Pleaaase – unghh – please let me. I’m a g-good girl, I’ll be so – hnngh – good, I promise.”

Sylus had no intention of denying you again, but now he physically couldn’t. Because now, watching the fat tears roll down your cheek and hearing your beautiful pleas, he too could feel himself pulse with the ache to fill you up. As he watched your breathtaking form in the mirror, he cursed the Gods for sending the only thing that could ruin him. 

You.

And yet, being ruined by you felt so damn good.

“Good for who, my love?”

Your vision has become clouded by your tears and the black spots that blot your eyesight. But the possessive purr in Sylus’s voice reaches you, through all the blinding pleasure, and makes butterflies flutter in your chest.

Your hands come up behind you to grasp behind his neck, and you strain yourself so that you turn just slightly to face him. For a second Sylus looks taken aback, but he quickly composes himself, the confident smile returning to his lips. 

“Nggghh – for you, Sylus.” The sincerity of your shaking voice wipes the cocky smirk off his face, his thrusts faltering ever so slightly. For a brief second, Sylus can’t feel anything. He can’t feel the way your cunt, on the precipice of release, squeezes so forcefully that it threatens to break him in half, the way your soaking thighs ripple against his lap as he pounds into you, the way your fingers play with the hair at the back of his head.

Fate had played a cruel trick on the two of you. Two tragically entwined Aether cores. Two birds of a feather, trapped in the cage destiny had built. 

But now, there is only you and him. Fate and destiny be damned. 

“I’m yours Sylus. Always yours.”

Your words, delicate and simpering, pull him back to reality. All the sensations he’d briefly been numbed to came crashing back. The torturously delicious way you felt around him, atop him, and against him swarmed back all at once. And to top it all off, the sight of your fluttery wide wet eyes, hazed over with a fog of lust, staring at him with such wonder and adoration. Your eyes alone were practically making love to him.

It made him absolutely feral.

You squeal, thighs doing their best to grip against Sylus’s lap as he bounces you with an unprecedented vigor, his hand holding your throat to keep you somewhat steady. You watch his muscles bulge, his much larger frame very much on display behind you. Powerful and imposing – a true god-like glory. 

“That’s fucking right, you’re mine,” he hisses in your ear, jaws clenched to hold back the moans your pussy threaten to pull from his body. 

“Gonna cum in you, yeah? Would my slutty girl like that?"

“Y-Yes!” you squeal, so close to coming undone, “Pleeease Sylus!  I-I’m s’close, I’ll do anything please!” You were quickly losing your voice amidst all the screaming and vigorous activities.

You can see Sylus devilish smile, releasing your throat to tilt your chin towards him.

“Anything? You’re making a deal with the devil, little dove.”

With your face so dangerously close to his, he can’t resist. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, his lips crashing onto yours, locked in the sweltering passion of your bodies. The feel of his tongue claiming every inch of your mouth is just enough to send you headfirst into the orgasm you’d been on the brink of for so long.

And because of that, your body couldn’t hold back the gush of excitement that squirted from where Sylus was connected to you. It’s so messy you can’t help the way your cheeks burn in embarrassment, even amidst the short circuiting of your pleasure-numbed brain. 

“Jesus fucking christ,” Sylus bites out, the tautening of your orgasm stricken cunt nearly squeezing him into unconsciousness. He fucks you through your blissed out state, and it isn’t long before he follows your lead. 

Like everything Sylus does, the way he cums is frighteningly powerful. Your body involuntarily shivers at how hot he is, but more so just how much there is. You can both clearly see the thick milky white seed seeping down Sylus’s cock, even as he continues to fuck into you. His thrusts are slower now, but more intentional. Conveying every ounce of passion into the way he rocks into you. Overstimulation quickly grips you, and you weakly tap at his thighs.

“Sylus, no-no more. S’too much.”

“M’not done,” he groans into your ear as he continues to thrust into you, and it’s then you feel his cock still shooting ropes of his hot spend inside you. He does, however, release your clit, shoving his fingers in your mouth, knowing it'll give you something to ground yourself amidst the sensitivity while he rides out the waves of his climax. 

You gladly accept his fingers, grasping his forearm and sucking like his arm was a dessert. The taste of your mixed slick helps distract you from the intense aftershocks that wrack your body. It’s all enough to have Sylus spurting out everything he has, drained completely empty, milked utterly dry. 

When you feel him finally still, you crack your eyes open, almost scared to see the aftermath. 

The waning sun bounced beams of golden sunlight off your sweat, tears, and cum slicked bodies. Your own body was also littered in pretty little bruises, in the shape of Sylus’s teeth and fingers. Bruises in places you hadn’t even felt Sylus sink his teeth into. They quite literally looked like swirls of paint against a blank canvas. 

Your hair was a mess, and your tear stained face was no better. The area between your thighs was red and puffy, leaking an obscene amount of white cream, all the while still stuffed to the brim with Sylus’s softening member. Even half hard, he stretched you absolutely full. 

On the other hand, the man in question looked absolutely ethereal as he loomed above you in the mirror. His hair sat lusciously soft, gently blowing with the breeze entering through the cracked window. His muscles still flexed gently as they recovered from the vigorous activities, strong chest rising and falling rhythmically with his steadying heartbeat. 

And finally his eyes that watch you back so carefully, the carmine orbs half lidded with satisfied bliss. His lips stretch into that signature Sylus smirk when he catches you staring, nothing short of heart stoppingly arrogant.

He’s so unbelievably handsome, your cunt quivering again just at the sight of him. Wincing at the feeling of his cock inside you stirring back to life at your involuntary throbbing, you panic and tap furiously on his thigh. 

“Sylus, put me down.” 

Sylus chuckles, mischief coloring his scarlet eyes, “What, no ‘please’?”

You whine, not able to withstand the feeling of him stirring back to life in your absolutely spent core. Yet you can feel yourself fluttering in anticipation. And you know he can feel it too. 

You silently curse your traitorous body.

“Please.”

He laughs warmly and obliges. His strong hands grip the underside of your thighs, lifting you off of him. You cry out at the feeling, your cunt clenching at nothing, seeking him once more. Sylus inhales sharply, craving your tight warmth again. But he holds you gently against his chest, shifting so that his erection rests between his abdomen and your thigh, with you sitting sideways on his lap. 

You nuzzle your head into his chest, and Sylus’s lips come down to the top of your head, breathing in your scent and ghosting kisses into your hair. Your hands reach up to weave into his silver tresses, playing with his soft locks and delicately massaging his scalp. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, voice muffled against his skin.

When Sylus doesn’t respond, you pull away from him and look up at him expectantly. He appears to be lost in the feeling of your fingers. 

“You never said please, you could at least say thank you,” you tease, poking his soft cheek with your finger. 

Sylus looks down at you, amused danger flickering in the deep orbs of crimson. His hand leaves your thigh, slowly and tortuously crawling up your skin until he cups your face. You shiver, suddenly feel like you’re staring into the face of danger. 

“Hmm, isn’t it customary to say thank you after eating?” 

You crinkle your brows in confusion at his cryptic words, waiting for him to elaborate further. Sylus’s smug grin widens, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, basking in the excited fear brimming in your bleary eyes. 

“I’ve yet to finish my meal, little dove.” 

© aeyumicore 2024.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST ON THIS ACCOUNT AND AO3. i am not @/aeyumicores or @/aeyumiicore or any variations of my blog name.

But today...today was different.

He gave you a soft smile—still affectionate, still gentle—but then, to your absolute horror, he shook his head.

"Mmm...I think not today, kitten. Next time," he said, voice calm and maddeningly firm.

Your arms froze around him. Your expression dropped in real-time, eyes wide, mouth parting in disbelief. Did he just—did he actually—say no? He had quite literally never said no before. Not once. Not even when you asked for that ultra-rare imported skincare fridge that cost more than a mortgage. This had to be some kind of joke. Right?

You pulled back just enough to look up at him fully, lips wobbling, ready to protest again. You were already cycling through your arsenal of cute tricks—maybe a dramatic sigh? Teary eyes?—because surely this wasn’t how this ended. Not with a "no."

"But Sy..." you gently whined, faceplanting into his chest with an exaggerated pout. The nickname was your secret weapon, sweet and playful, something you knew always made his heart melt just a little. "It’s limited edition stuff! You know how fast those go. And I’ve been good too…" you added with a soft, teasing tone, slowly trailing your finger along the curve of his neck, the gesture feather-light and flirtatious.

You were confident this would do the trick. It always did. Your go-to routine of sweet pleading paired with just the right amount of clingy affection had never failed before. He’d usually cave within seconds, either sighing contently before handing over his card or laughing under his breath about you being spoiled while simultaneously transferring money to your account. But this time…

This time, all you got in return was that infuriating smirk of his.

"You look adorable with that expression, sweetie" he said casually, chuckling as he ruffled your hair in a way that felt more teasing than affectionate. "Perhaps I’ll let you keep it for today. For my amusement."

You froze in disbelief, blinking rapidly. That wasn’t a yes. That wasn’t even a maybe. That was—was he seriously refusing you right now? Your glare sharpened instantly as your lips jutted out into a full-blown pout. You thumped his chest—not hard, but pointedly—and let out a long, frustrated huff.

Oh. So he wanted to play games today? Fine. Game on.

You stepped back dramatically, throwing your arms up with an exaggerated sigh. “Whatever. Have it your way,” you huffed, spinning on your heel and stomping toward the car like an offended princess denied her crown. You made sure he saw the little toss of your hair, the extra sway in your hips—because if he wanted to be difficult, you were going to be impossible.

The date wrapped up without much drama—well, if you didn’t count the dramatic pout glued to your face all evening, or the way you stubbornly gave Sylus the cold shoulder from the moment he refused you. You sat across from him at the candlelit table, arms crossed tight beneath the linen napkin on your lap, chewing your steak with slow, deliberate bites like the food had personally offended you. You barely looked in his direction, except to shoot the occasional glare or let out a sigh so loud the table next to you probably heard. A whine here, a sharp huff there—just enough to make it painfully clear you weren’t going to let this go.

And Sylus? That cocky menace? He didn’t budge. He just sipped his wine with maddening calm, eyes twinkling like this was all an elaborate joke for his amusement. At one point, he leaned his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his palm, and smiled. "You know," he said, voice smooth and low, "kittens always make the same little noises when they’re upset."

You nearly dropped your fork.

Ooooh. This jerk. You wanted to launch a breadstick at his head. You wanted to crawl across the table and wipe that smug grin off his stupidly perfect face. But how? That was the problem. Sylus didn’t rattle. He didn’t flinch, didn’t fumble, didn’t even raise his voice at you. No matter what bratty storm you stirred up, he was always maddeningly patient, always one step ahead.

You sulked all the way to the car, all the way through the quiet drive home, arms folded like a fortress across your chest. Your mind raced the entire ride, cycling through schemes and petty revenges like flashcards. Maybe you’d text one of your admirers, just to provoke a reaction. Maybe you’d steal and attempt to max out his black card on purpose. Something—anything—to make him crack.

When the car finally pulled up to the mansion, you didn’t even wait for him to open your door. You climbed out with exaggerated grace, tossed your hair, and strutted up the stairs like an offended queen returning to her palace. But then, just as you stepped inside, fate handed you the perfect opening.

His phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, sighed, and gave you an apologetic smile. "Business. I’ll have to leave for a bit" He pressed a soft kiss to your lips—infuriatingly gentle—and disappeared out the door, already speaking in that cool, professional tone of his.

And just like that, you were alone. Whatever, not like you weren't used to his sudden disappearances by now.

Alone in his sprawling, high-ceilinged foyer, surrounded by leather furniture, dim lighting, and that faint scent of cologne that always lingered in the air. Unsupervised. Unchecked.

Your lips slowly curled into a smile.

Oh, Sylus. If he thought your tantrum was over…

You made your way upstairs to the bedroom, each step slow and deliberate, the cool floor a quiet contrast to the heat bubbling under your skin. The air was still, heavy with that faint scent of cologne and luxury that always clung to Sylus’s space, and it only fueled the spark of rebellion in your chest. If he thought he could brush you off with a smile and a kiss on the lips, he had another thing coming.

The second you entered the room, your eyes were locked on your shared closet. You didn’t hesitate. Determination hardened your gaze as you swung the doors open and began to dig. Silks, lace, structured jackets, soft cotton tees—none of it was what you needed. Your fingers moved quickly, flicking through hangers, rummaging through drawers, pausing only to toss aside a piece or two that got in your way.

Then, your fingertips brushed over something thin and impossibly soft. You froze. Pulled it out. And there it was.

Tucked neatly toward the back, untouched and still wrapped in soft tissue from the boutique: a white slip dress. Almost sheer, impossibly delicate. Not see-through enough to be scandalous, but sheer enough to spark the imagination. You held it up, letting it sway gently in your hands as a grin tugged at the corners of your lips. Oh yes—this would do nicely.

It was the kind of dress that was made to be seen by someone who wouldn’t be allowed to touch. Innocent in color, wicked in fit.

You stripped out of your clothes with little ceremony, letting your discarded outfit fall to the floor. Then you stepped into the slip dress, carefully pulling it over your shoulders and smoothing it down over your figure. The fabric was featherlight, almost like a second skin, clinging in all the right places and catching on the subtle curves of your body. The hem kissed the top of your thighs, the neckline dipping just low enough to draw the eye.

You adjusted the straps, letting one slip slightly off your shoulder before nudging it back into place. The mirror reflected back something soft, sultry, and calculated. You tilted your head, gave your reflection a slow once-over, and lifted the hem slightly to re-adjust where it clung a little too high at the hip.

It was a look that said, "Oops, did I wear this by mistake?" when every stitch was picked out with intent.

You even applied a light layer of gloss to your lips and tousled your hair a little, just enough to give it that messy, just-out-of-bed sheen. Not too perfect—no, that would ruin the effect. You wanted to look like a dream and a challenge all at once.

You stepped back, admiring the effect with a smirk that tugged at your lips.

Yeah. This would more than do.

You pulled out your phone and made your way to Sylus's bed, crawling onto the plush comforter with a wicked little smirk playing on your lips. The soft fabric of the dress slid over your skin as you moved, clinging tighter with every shift of your hips. It was like the dress had been made for this—barely-there, teasing just enough to be dangerous. You positioned yourself carefully, angling your body this way and that, letting the hem ride up a little higher each time, letting the neckline dip lower than it should. You knew your angles, and you weren’t afraid to use them.

Your hair spilled around your shoulders as you arched your back just enough to accentuate your figure, your lips parted slightly in a deliberately breathless expression. You cycled through poses—knees bent, laying on your side, half-turns that showed just enough. Each snap of the camera was a calculated strike, crafted to toe that perfect line between seductive and untouchable. Every glance at the lens carried a silent message: look, but don’t you dare touch.

You finally landed on the winning shot.

You were laying flat on your stomach, feet kicked up in the air behind you in an almost playful pose, your body stretched across the bed like a perfectly unwrapped gift. The camera angle was just right—your butt peeked into the edge of the frame, subtle but impossible to miss. The front of your chest was also faintly visible, pressed softly against the sheets, hinted at through the thin slip of fabric that caught the light in all the right places. The image was an illusion of innocence, cloaked in silk and suggestion. It whispered secrets without saying a word.

You giggled to yourself, the kind of giggle that came from knowing you’d just lit a match. Scrolling through filters, you picked one that added a warm, golden glow to your skin, bringing out the soft shadows and romantic lighting of the bedroom. Your cheeks looked naturally flushed, your eyes dreamy and a little wild.

Then came the real fun. You opened your social media app and navigated to your public Moments feed, fingers tapping away with ease. A single, sweetly cheeky caption. Nothing too obvious. Just the right amount of flirt. And then the hashtags—oh, you chose them carefully. Trending ones, flirty ones, ones that practically begged people to stop and stare. Ones that would ensure this photo didn’t just go unnoticed. It would explode.

Post.

You hit the button and watched as the image loaded, crisp and glowing on the screen. Your heart fluttered with anticipation, not nerves—but a thrill. You placed your phone down on the bed beside you, letting your body melt into the mattress, stretching out lazily like a cat in sunlight. You felt deliciously smug.

Now it was just a matter of time.

How long until Sylus saw it? How long before someone else did? How long before his phone started buzzing with the growing flood of likes and comments from strangers who had no business seeing you like this—but were absolutely going to anyway?

You tucked your chin into the pillow, smiling to yourself.

It did not take long at all for the post to get some traction.

Within the hour or so, your phone was buzzing nonstop, lighting up with a steady stream of likes, comments, shares, and those little heart notifications that came in quicker than you could keep track of. People were noticing. People were reacting. And you were lounging there on Sylus’s bed, basking in the slow-burning chaos you’d started.

The comments came in waves. Some were sweet, complimenting your beauty, your glow, the elegance of the dress—words like "ethereal" and "goddess" paired with heart-eye emojis and rose-colored filters. Others were...not so polite. Thirsty replies from strangers you didn’t know, saying things that made you cringe, made your brow furrow. A few were outright creepy. You deleted those on sight, blocking users without hesitation, but the damage was already done. The post was out there, and it was spreading fast.

You rolled onto your back with a sigh, your phone raised above your head as you continued scrolling. It was almost funny—how predictable it all was. You knew the moment you posted it what kind of reaction you’d get. You knew the hashtags would push it to the explore pages. You knew someone would tag a friend, then another, then another. But even so, seeing it all unfold made your chest buzz with adrenaline.

You giggled to yourself as you tapped through DMs—some from followers you recognized, others from complete strangers trying their luck. You deleted the worst of them, but not before archiving a few particularly flattering ones. Not because you were interested, of course, but because you knew Sylus might see them.

And that was the real game, wasn’t it?

The ultimate goal.

Then, right in the middle of clearing out a flood of unsolicited messages, a new notification popped up—distinct. Crisp. Your thumb hovered for half a second.

Sylus: I saw it. You can delete it now.

Seven words. No punctuation. No emojis. Nothing but cool, clean finality.

And yet, it hit like a sucker punch to the stomach. You stared at the message, pulse picking up. The smirk returned to your lips, slow and sly. He saw it. He saw it. You could practically feel the shift in the air, the subtle tension winding through the silence of the room like a live wire.

You reread the message. Once. Twice.

And then you did not delete the post.

Instead, you stretched your arms over your head, arching your back into the mattress like a content little cat, your smile widening as you tapped back into the moments app. Notifications were still flooding in. More likes. More reposts. More attention.

If Sylus thought that single message was enough to reel you back in, he clearly underestimated your mood tonight.

Now the real fun could begin.

"Mmmm. Not today. Maybe another time," you texted back, pausing just long enough for a flicker of doubt to creep in before you hit send.

Yeah, get a taste of your own medicine asshole.

The moment your message whooshed off into cyberspace, your heart skipped. Your face grew warm, the flush spreading all the way to your ears. A nervous little flutter worked its way through your chest as you set your phone down on the comforter, then immediately snatched it back up.

Had you gone too far?

You had teased Sylus plenty before—playfully, brattily, dramatically—but this was different. You had never really pushed him. Not like this. He had always let you be a little dramatic, indulging every pout, every sigh, every fake tear with maddening patience. But this? This was... direct defiance. And it made your stomach flip in a way that was equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

The screen lit up.

Three dots. He was typing.

Your pulse surged. You sat up straighter, fingers gripping the edge of your phone just a bit too tightly. Your eyes were locked on those three little dots like they were a countdown. Here it comes. The reaction. The reprimand. Maybe a taunt, maybe something sharper.

And then—

Nothing.

The dots vanished.

You stared at the screen in disbelief. Wait—what? That’s it? No reply? Not even a period? Just a seen at timestamp to cling to?

Your brows furrowed, confusion giving way to an irritated twist of your lips. No smug comeback? No passive-aggressive sarcasm? No "oh really, kitten?" Just...silence?

Bastard.

You let out a frustrated sound that was somewhere between a growl and a sigh, flopping back dramatically onto the pillows. Your hair spread out over the fabric like a halo as you stared at the ceiling, phone clutched against your chest like it might suddenly buzz with an explanation. But nothing came. Just silence, and your own thoughts chasing themselves in circles.

Was he actually mad this time? That didn’t sound like him. But what if he was? Or worse—what if he was ignoring you on purpose? Letting you stew? Was this part of his plan? Was this some next-level psychological warfare meant to make you squirm?

Well, it was working.

You sat up again with a sharp exhale, glaring at your screen as if you could will a response into existence. The nerve of him. Leaving you hanging like that? No reaction? No witty jab? He was definitely doing this on purpose. And maybe—just maybe—it was kind of hot.

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, frustration tangling with something dangerously close to anticipation.

You don’t realize you had fallen asleep until the quiet creak of the bedroom door jolts you from your haze. Your body stiffens instinctively, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes flutter open to the soft golden hue of the bedroom lights. The sheets are still warm beneath you, and for a split second, everything feels still. Peaceful.

Until you see him.

Sylus steps into the room, his movements as smooth and controlled as ever. His face is unreadable—no trace of amusement, no hint of irritation. Just that usual calm, detached composure he always carried. It sends a ripple of nervous energy racing through your chest.

He looks...too calm.

You sit up quickly, heart beginning to race as you reach up to smooth your tousled hair. The silk dress clings to your body, creased slightly from where you’d fallen asleep in it, and your brain scrambles to remember how revealing your last pose had been. You grab your phone, pretending to check it, then think better of it and reach for the sheet instead, pulling it up and over yourself in a feeble attempt to look casual.

“Welcome back…” you murmur, voice soft and slightly hoarse. You force a smile—one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It feels crooked and strained, too tight at the corners.

Sylus doesn’t answer at first. He walks over to the bed with that same quiet, deliberate ease and leans down toward you. One hand sinks into the mattress beside your hip as he lowers himself, and his lips press gently against yours.

Not rough. Not rushed. Just a slow, deliberate kiss.

You blink at him, lips parted slightly as he pulls back. Caught off guard. Completely disarmed.

"Were you sleeping?" he asks, adjusting his tie with one hand, his tone neutral. Almost bored.

It throws you off. He wasn’t going to mention the post?

“Huh?” you blink again, trying to play along. “Uh...yeah. I think today was pretty long for me.” You stretch your arms up in an exaggerated yawn, glancing away like you’re just now waking up. Inside, your thoughts are spinning.

He hums in acknowledgment, his crimson eyes drifting lazily across your figure before returning to the device in his pocket. He pulls it out and unlocks it, gaze cool as his thumb scrolls slowly along the screen.

Still no mention. Not even a look.

Your stomach does a slow, uneasy flip.

You watch him from the corner of your eye, trying to read him, trying to sense something—anything—but he’s a blank slate. Calm. Casual. Like he didn’t just leave you hanging for hours after you posted one of the most daring photos of your life. Like he hadn’t sent that short, pointed message. Like none of it had happened.

Your pulse ticks louder in your ears.

Was this his move now? Leaving you in suspense?

He stands there for a moment longer, thumb tapping occasionally, face unreadable as he scrolls. The silence stretches just a little too long, the air too thick with the tension you’re pretending not to feel.

Why wasn’t he saying anything?

Was this his way of letting you stew? Of reminding you he didn’t have to respond to your games? Or worse...was he unbothered?

Did he really not care?

You swallow hard, trying to keep your cool. But the pressure builds in your chest.

You hear the familiar ding of your phone and glance toward it cautiously. That tone—you knew it. Your heart skips as you reach over and grab the device, already feeling the anticipation coil in your chest. You unlock the screen, and sure enough, your eyes widen.

Bright and bold, the notification glows at you like some kind of digital miracle.

$1,000 deposited to your account from Sylus.

Holy shit. Your plan worked?

You press your lips together, trying—failing—to hide the smug little smile threatening to spill across your face. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Why so shocked?” Sylus says, tone light, but there’s something unreadable in his gaze. He watches you closely, head slightly tilted. “You still want to go shopping, don’t you?”

He doesn’t sound mad. He doesn’t look upset. But there’s something strange in the air—something you can’t quite name. Calm, but not idle. Soft, but edged.

“Yeah, of course, Sy…thank you!” you say, quickly standing up and throwing your arms around him in a hug. He smells like cologne and leather and something darker, something distinctly him.

He hugs you back just as easily, strong arms wrapping around your waist. But then he leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Delete it, sweetie.”

It’s not a threat. Not a growl. Not even cold. But the words settle on your skin like steel. Gentle and final.

Your breath catches.

“Oh! Y-yeah…sorry,” you say quickly, stepping back, fingers already fumbling to grab your phone again. The moment’s playfulness sours ever so slightly as the weight of those words lingers.

He gently smiles at you like nothing happened.

But you know better.

You delete the post without another word.

After deleting the post quickly, you giddily log into your account on the store to start adding the items you so desperately wanted. Your heart is still fluttering from the thrill, and a wide smile plays on your lips as you eagerly pull up your wishlist. A tiny, delighted squeal slips out when you see everything still sitting there—limited edition shoes, accessories, that one impossible-to-find designer dress you’d bookmarked and obsessed over for weeks.

Your fingers move with dizzy excitement, tapping away as you add each item to your cart like it’s a race against time. The numbers keep rising, the total bill ticking higher, but you don’t care. You’re floating in the afterglow of your victory. A thousand dollars, just like that—gifted, deposited, yours.

Maybe you should push his buttons more often, you think with a smug little grin, biting your lower lip. Clearly, a little rebellion went a long way. You imagine how many more little indulgences he might cave to if you kept playing this game right. You can't help but bask in the moment, riding the rush of control you think you have.

That is…until a sound cuts through the quiet air, sharp and deliberate.

Click.

Your ears perk, body instinctively tensing.

The unmistakable sound of a belt coming undone.

You freeze, thumb hovering mid-tap over your phone screen. Your head slowly turns, curiosity getting the better of you despite the knot now forming in your stomach.

Sylus stands by the dresser, hands working with unhurried ease as he slips the leather strap free from the buckle. The soft clink of metal follows. His sleeves are rolled back just slightly, revealing the veins along his forearms as he finishes the motion with a practiced calm. There’s no rush. No warning.

He catches your stare and tilts his head ever so slightly, his expression unreadable.

Then, a slow, deliberate smile spreads across his lips.

"Don’t look back here," he says, his voice deceptively gentle—laced with something darker, heavier, undeniable. "Keep shopping."

Your breath catches in your throat.

Your eyes widen, pulse skipping a beat. There’s no edge to his tone, no visible anger, and yet the command feels like a velvet-gloved grip around your neck. Not harsh. Just final.

You don’t dare speak. You nod quickly and turn your gaze back to your phone, trying to focus, trying to act like nothing’s changed.

But everything has.

Your fingers are shaking slightly now as you tap your screen. The glowing images of handbags and shoes blur together. Your heartbeat thumps in your ears, and your thoughts scatter like marbles across a slick floor.

The room feels smaller now, quieter except for the occasional rustle of fabric as he moves behind you. You don't look back—you wouldn't dare—but every sense is straining to track his movements. Your phone suddenly feels slippery in your grip, and the shopping cart you were so excitedly filling moments ago now seems trivial, even foolish.

You force yourself to scroll through another page of items, pretending to be absorbed in your task. The $1,000 balance that had felt like such a victory now hangs like a weight in your conscience. What had seemed like a clever manipulation has transformed into something else entirely.

The floorboards creak softly behind you. He's moving slowly, deliberately. Your thumb hovers over a pair of shoes you'd been coveting, but you can't bring yourself to tap "add to cart." The game has changed, and you're no longer certain of the rules.

"Finding everything you want?" His voice comes from closer than you expected, making you flinch slightly. The question sounds innocent enough, but the undertone makes your skin prickle with awareness.

"Y-yes," you manage, hating the slight tremor in your voice. You clear your throat and try to project confidence. "Just finishing up."

You feel him approach, his presence like a gathering storm at your back. The air feels charged, electric. He stops just behind you, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, but not touching. Not yet.

His hand comes into view as he reaches around you, gently taking the phone from your grasp. You release it without resistance, your fingers suddenly useless. He studies the screen for a moment, scrolling through your selections with casual interest.

"Quite the haul," he observes mildly, as if commenting on the weather. "You must be very pleased with yourself, sweetie."

There's a pause, heavy with expectation. You're not sure if you're meant to answer, if you should apologize, defend yourself, or remain silent. The uncertainty is maddening.

He hands your phone back to you, the screen still glowing with your abandoned shopping cart. Then his fingers brush against your shoulder, tracing a path up to the nape of your neck. The touch is feather-light, but it sends a shiver cascading down your spine.

"I must ask," he says conversationally, his breath warm against your ear, "Was it thrilling to take pictures for other men while in another mans bed? In clothes he bought you?"

His fingers tangle gently in your hair, not pulling, just establishing control. You don't answer him. You know better not to answer such a question. Your breath catches in your throat as he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"For every...lets say $100, that's one hit with this belt."

His words hang in the air, precise and measured. Your breath catches, mind racing to calculate the total in your cart. You swear your heart just fell into your stomach. A belt??? The simple arithmetic becomes suddenly, terribly important.

"S-sylus, I'm really-"

"That's the exchange rate," he continues, calm as if discussing the weather. "Seems only fair, doesn't it? You wanted to play games...so let's play."

You feel his presence shift as he moves slightly, the leather of the belt sliding against itself with a soft, threatening whisper. Your mouth has gone dry, and the excitement of your shopping spree feels like it happened to someone else, in another lifetime.

"How much is in your cart right now?" he asks, though his tone suggests he already knows the answer. "Why don't you check for me. sweetie? Speak up."

Your fingers tremble as you reach for the phone, the screen now seeming to mock you with its bright display of luxury items. The total stares back at you, a number that had brought such satisfaction minutes ago now transformed into a countdown to something else entirely.

You had added way too much to your cart. Plus with the added shipping...it came up to a little past 2,000 dollars. You must've gotten carried away.

He waits patiently behind you, giving you time to absorb the full weight of your actions. The belt dangles from his hand, not threatening, simply present—a promise waiting to be kept.

"Well?" His voice is soft but expectant, leaving no room for evasion.

You shivered, tears welling up in your eyes as the intensity of the sensation overwhelmed you. "Its $2000. I...I accidentally added too much...let me just-" you started to explain, but your words were cut short as you felt the leather of the belt against the back of your leg, its roughness sending shivers through your body.

"Oh, but my sweet kitten, there's no need to take anything away," Sylus purred, his voice laced with amusement. "I'll happily pay for it all. What my kitten wants, she gets, right? You wanted this stuff so badly you were willing to flaunt yourself to get my attention. How adorable."

With a slow, deliberate motion, he lifted the back of your dress, exposing the smooth skin of your butt, the cool air contrasting with the heat of the room. Your body trembled, a mix of pleasure and apprehension, as you felt the leather glide across your sensitive skin, the roughness a stark contrast to the soft caresses you had experienced thus far.

"Now...you're gonna start counting after the first hit" he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "Squirm or move away and I'll make you add more stuff."

Your brain began to swim. More stuff...more spankings. You already have twenty. Shit. He's actually serious??

"Sylus...please, I'm really sorry," you whined, the words tumbling out as a tear slipped down your cheek. Yet, beneath the anxiety, a forbidden excitement simmered, igniting something deep within you. "Please, just let me give the money back..."

He shushes you, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look back at your phone. You feel grabbing the hem of your underwear and pulling them down. You flinch in anticipation and you hear a chuckle behind you.

"Don't laugh at me-!"

You turned your head, words of protest leaving your lips, but they were abruptly stolen away by the sharp, searing kiss of the belt against your skin. A cry tore from your throat, raw and instinctive, as tears sprang forth, soaking into the pillow beneath you. He wasn't playing around; that strike was anything but gentle.

"Still trying to act like a brat hm? I don't want to hear anything but counting, kitten. Starting over."

The sound of leather slicing through the air made your skin prickle, a sharp whistle that seemed to echo through the room before it ever made contact.

The second lash hit with a quick, stinging snap across your thighs. Your breath caught in your throat as the shock bloomed into heat. It wasn’t just the pain itself that made you tremble—it was the anticipation, the weight of each second dragging between every strike. Your hands curled into the sheets as you forced your voice out.

"O-one," you stammered, your tone breathless and shaking.

Another followed. Lower. Sharper. The belt bit into the tender part of your ass and pulled a yelp from your lips.

"T-two," you gasped, teeth clenched.

The third landed with more force, sending a pulse of heat through your core that made you arch slightly, only to flinch from the tension in your spine.

"Three," you whispered, more air than sound.

The fourth came before you could fully prepare, and your voice cracked when you counted, "F-four."

The sting lingered, throbbing beneath the sheer fabric of your dress, heat spreading in slow, dizzy waves. The cool air did nothing to soothe the ache on your bare ass, if anything it made each lash feel more intimate, more deliberate. You bit your lip, body squirming on instinct as the fifth snapped down with a little more force, and your hips twisted to one side.

"Five—!"

But before you could adjust or reposition, Sylus shifted.

His knee came down over the back of your thigh, pinning your leg to the bed with unwavering pressure.

You froze, your entire body tensing beneath him.

"Start adding more things if you're gonna keep moving," he said, his voice a smooth, unbothered murmur. Not cruel. Not angry. But absolute.

The tone left no room for protest. Not from you.

"N-no, I won't move anymore, I promise..."

You swallowed hard, breath shuddering as you nodded without turning to look at him.

"S-six," you whispered, barely able to get the word out before the next hit made your legs twitch under the restraint of his knee.

The seventh landed with precision, and your voice cracked again. "Seven."

By the eighth, your body was trembling. Sweat dotted your lower back and your lips parted with a soft, desperate sound before you remembered to count. "Eight..."

The ninth and tenth came one after the other, timed and even, and you were almost too breathless to speak. Your chest heaved beneath you, and you had to close your eyes just to stay focused.

"Nine. Ten."

You were shaking all over now, a cocktail of pain, adrenaline, and something else you didn’t want to name twisting deep in your stomach. Your thoughts were a blur, your hands clenched around the sheets, your throat dry from trying to keep your voice steady.

But you were still counting.

Still obeying.

By the twelfth hit, you couldn’t take it anymore. The pain had gone from a sharp sting to a deep, burning ache that pulsed with every heartbeat. You buried your face into the pillow, sobbing openly now, the kind of messy, desperate crying that came from somewhere deeper than just your skin. Every part of you was trembling—your arms, your legs, your breath hitching violently as you tried to force your voice to keep counting.

Each strike felt heavier than the last, like Sylus knew just how close you were to breaking. And maybe he did. Maybe that was the point.

But you didn’t stop.

You couldn’t.

"Fourteen..." you choked, your voice hoarse, muffled by the pillow soaked with your tears.

You curled your fingers into the sheets, gripping them like they were the only thing anchoring you to reality. Your thighs burned, your back ached, and your skin felt hot everywhere he’d touched.

"Fifteen..." you whimpered, your whole body jolting at the next hit.

You tried to shift, to escape, just slightly—but the weight of his knee still pinned you down, reminding you that you weren’t going anywhere.

You gasped, eyes squeezed shut, the tears blurring everything.

"Seventeen..."

The numbers were slipping from your lips in broken sobs now, each one harder to say than the last. You didn’t know if he noticed how your breath was catching or how your voice kept cracking—but even if he did, he said nothing.

The silence was maddening.

And then finally, after what felt like an eternity—longer than you thought you could bear—the last strike landed.

"Twenty," you whispered, so faint you weren’t even sure it counted. Your voice was shredded, raw from crying, from counting, from enduring.

But it was done.

You clung to the pillow like a lifeline, tears still trailing down your cheeks as your lungs struggled to draw in a steady breath. Everything buzzed—your skin, your mind, the space between your thoughts.

And somewhere in the center of all that pain and exhaustion, a quiet pride stirred.

You had taken it all.

Every single one.

You held your breath, every muscle tense, waiting—until finally, the sound came.

Thud.

The belt hit the floor.

You let out a broken, shaky sob as relief rushed through you. It was over. The sharp sting, the counting, the pressure—done. The moment that sound registered, your body sagged into the mattress, the tension melting into a full-bodied, uncontrollable release. Tears spilled freely again, this time not from pain, but from the emotional flood that followed. You clutched the pillow beneath you even harder, burying your face into it as your shoulders trembled.

Sylus was gentle now, a complete contrast to the measured harshness he had displayed just moments before. He didn’t rush. His movements were calm, controlled, like he was shifting into a different role entirely. Slowly, carefully, he reached out to you, his fingers brushing your arm first as if to check if you could handle touch again. When you didn’t flinch, he slipped his arms around you and helped guide you onto your side.

Every shift of your sore backside made you wince, but there was no sharpness in his handling. Only softness. You whimpered softly at the movement, your skin raw and burning beneath the thin fabric of your slip. Still, when he pulled you against his chest, you didn’t resist. You melted into him like he was the only steady thing left in the room.

He began to rub slow, soothing circles into your thighs and butt, his fingers featherlight as they traced the reddened skin. He was so careful—almost reverent. The heat of his palms chased the sting from each mark he’d left, easing the tension in your muscles. Your sobs came slower now, quieter, as his touch steadied you.

He held you close, his breath warm and steady against your ear as he leaned in, his voice low and soft.

"Shh, shh…I know it hurts," he murmured, the tenderness in his tone wrapping around you like a blanket. His lips pressed soft kisses across your damp cheeks, your temple, your jaw. "You did such a good job, sweetie. I’m so proud of you."

You blinked through the blur of tears, your lashes sticky and your throat sore from crying. But his words—his praise—poured warmth into your chest. You felt it curl deep inside you, soothing something raw and aching. It didn’t erase the pain, but it dulled the edge of it, made it feel worth enduring.

You turned your face into his chest, inhaling his familiar scent. Leather. Clean linen. A trace of cologne. It grounded you. You clung to him, needing his presence, his calm. And when his hand continued to stroke your hair and rub gentle circles on your back, your breathing began to slow.

And slowly—finally—you allowed yourself to relax.

The worst had passed. The storm of sensation had come and gone, and you had weathered it.

The mattress shifted softly as Sylus adjusted beside you, his hands still warm against your skin. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, as he moved closer, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. You held your breath for a moment, your pulse quickening at the way his fingers brushed the soft fabric of your slip, teasing the edge of it without hurry.

Then, ever so slowly, he began to trace the outline of your body, his fingers dipping lower, circling the curve of your hips before edging closer to the juncture of your thighs. His touch was featherlight, almost teasing, as he explored the outer edges of your most intimate flesh. You whimpered softly, the sound muffled against his chest, as his fingers danced just beyond the line of your core, deliberately staying on the outside of your pussy.

As his fingers continued their slow, deliberate exploration, he leaned in close, his voice low and soothing as he whispered against your ear.

“You want to feel good now?” His words were a soft, inviting question, a gentle coax that sent a shiver down your spine. “You must've enjoyed that a little too much. You're soaked, kitten.”

Your eyelids fluttered, and you tilted your head slightly, subconsciously seeking more of his touch. His fingers slowed their motion, almost as though he were savoring the moment, before finally pressing just a little closer, brushing the swollen flesh of your clit with the lightest of pressures. You sucked in a breath, your hips instinctively shifting slightly beneath him, a soft moan escaping your lips.

Still, he held back, his fingers circling just around the edges of your core, coaxing a low, needy sound from you before slowly dipping lower, teasing the entrance to your pussy with a gentle pressure. “Oh,” you whispered, your voice tinged with both longing and relief,

“Please.”

He gave a gentle squeeze to your hip before slowly deepening his touch, his fingers finally brushing against the slick, sensitive folds of your cunt. You twitched slightly against him, your hands instinctively clutching at the sheets as the waves of pleasure began to build within you. But he moved with care, his touch both tender and deliberate, as though he were discovering every inch of you for the first time.

As his fingers worked their way deeper into your wet walls, your moans grew louder, more uninhibited, the sound of your pleasure filling the room. He hummed softly in response, his voice a low vibration against your ear as he praised you with quiet endearments, coaxing you further into the pleasure he was building within you.

You lay there, your body bathed in a wave of sensations as Sylus’s fingers moved inside you, each thrust echoing with a precision that left you gasping for air. At first, it was gentle, a slow, teasing rhythm that coaxed a moan from your lips. Then, as the pressure increased, his fingers curved just right, hitting the sweet spot inside you that made your entire body shiver with pleasure. Your hips bucked involuntarily, your nails digging into the sheets as you fought to hold onto control.

“You’re about to cum already?” he whispered, his voice low and triumphant. You could feel his smirk against your skin as he pressed harder, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit with skillful precision. “You want it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasped, your voice trembling. “Please, I’m about to—”

He pulled back just enough to make you whimper in frustration, his fingers hovering just at the edge of withdrawal before thrusting back in with renewed force. “Tell me how sorry you are,” he demanded, his voice a mixture of dominance and affection that made your heart race. “Beg me, sweetie.”

At first you froze, feeling heat rise to your cheeks out of embarrassment, but when he fully began to pull his fingers away all reason flew out of your mind.

You were so close.

The words tumbled out of you before you could stop them, a desperate, breathless plea that echoed the raw emotion in your chest. “I’m sorry! Please, I’m sorry!”

He chuckled, the sound a low, gravelly vibration that sent shivers down your spine. “Good girl,” he murmured, his fingers finding that spot again, the pressure building to a point where you could barely think straight.

“Yes,” you whispered, your eyes squeezing shut as the aching burn in your core was tipping to its breaking point. “Please—just let me—”

But before you could finish the sentence, he pulled his fingers out entirely, leaving you trembling and unsatisfied, gasping for air as though you’d been deprived of oxygen. The abrupt withdrawal was almost as intense as the climax you’d been on the brink of, a cruel twist that left you feeling both frustrated and conflicted.

You turned to face him, your voice shaking with a mix of shock and disbelief. “W-what? I was right there! I did what you asked!”

He met your gaze steadily, his expression soft but unyielding. His eyes didn’t carry malice—there was no fire, no wrath—just a firm, patient certainty that made your skin prickle and your breath catch in your throat. The kind of quiet control that left no room for bargaining.

“I never said I'd let you even if you begged,” he said, the words rolling from his tongue in a tone so calm it only made the weight of them settle heavier in your chest. It was gentle, yes, but it carried the undeniable finality of someone who’d already made up their mind. "Did you honestly think I’d let you finish after a stunt like that?”

The way he said it, like he was almost surprised by your audacity, twisted your stomach. Not furious. Just disappointed. And that somehow hurt worse.

His tone didn’t rise. It never did. But that only made it worse—the fact that he could cut through your resistance with something as simple as stillness. The gravity in his voice hit harder than any belt, any reprimand. It made your throat tighten, your thoughts spin.

You were in shock.

Your body was still trembling, the aftershocks of denied ecstasy crashing through your nerves like static. You felt strung out, your limbs heavy, your skin flushed and oversensitive. Your muscles still twitched with that last wave of almost-release that had been ripped from you too soon.

It had been there. Right there. You had been on the edge—dangling. And he had pulled you back with terrifying precision.

No release.

No relief.

Just silence. And now, this still, crushing reminder of who held the reins.

Tears gathered in your lashes, fat and hot. You blinked rapidly, your lips trembling as you lifted your gaze to him. Your voice cracked as you spoke, brittle and hoarse from all the cries that had come before.

“P-please…” you whispered, reaching for him with fingers that barely had the strength to curl. “I said I was sorry. Sylus, please...”

Your voice broke halfway through his name, and the desperation behind it made your chest ache.

"Shh. Don’t whine," he murmured, his voice low and even, the kind of calm that wrapped around you like a heavy blanket—firm, enveloping, unshakable.

You hiccupped softly, your body still twitching with the lingering aftershocks, shivering from unsatisfaction, exhaustion, and the quiet vulnerability that always came after something so intense. Your limbs felt heavy and loose, barely responding as you shifted weakly against the sheets. Tears clung to your lashes, your cheeks damp and flushed. You let out a small, broken protest, the sound almost childish in its fragility.

But Sylus didn’t pause. He moved with deliberate care, like he’d done this a hundred times, like every movement was etched into him. Without saying another word, he crossed the room, retrieved a warm cloth, and returned to your side. You barely registered the soft sound of water dripping onto the towel or the way the mattress dipped as he sat beside you again.

The first touch made you flinch despite yourself. The cloth dragged over your sensitive, slightly bruised skin with a heat that was both soothing and startling. You whimpered, your hips twitching away on instinct, but he didn’t scold you. He simply placed a hand gently on your back, the silent reminder enough to still you.

"Starting today, until all your packages arrive," he continued, his tone calm yet authoritative, "I'm still going to kiss you, touch you, make you feel good. But you can't cum." His fingers paused for a moment, the weight of his words settling between you. "If you do cum before you have my permission, this whole process starts over, including the belt. No masturbating either. I'll know. Understood?"

The simple act of him speaking while wiping between your legs sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching as you nodded, the gravity of his words sinking in. You felt the tension in your body, the way your muscles clenched involuntarily at the mere thought of being so close to climax only to have it taken away.

"Yes, Sy..." you whispered, voice cracking as it escaped your lips. You wanted to be mad. You wanted to scream, to shove at his chest, to demand why he was always one step ahead—but you couldn’t. The exhaustion in your limbs, the ache deep in your chest, and the rawness still lingering on your skin left you too hollow, too wrung out to fight. All that fire had dissolved into a pitiful, quiet ache, leaking from your eyes in soft, steady tears.

All you could do was cry. You had brought this on yourself.

Sylus didn’t say anything. He didn’t gloat or taunt. He just kept tending to you with that same deliberate, practiced care. His movements were slow, methodical, gentle in ways that made your chest ache even more. When he was done, he discarded the damp cloth and reached for you again, easing the rumpled slip dress over your head. The fabric peeled away from your flushed skin, clinging slightly before sliding off, leaving you cold, exposed, and vulnerable.

You whimpered, the sound soft and unsure, but he was already moving with purpose. He retrieved one of his shirts—oversized, warm, smelling of him—and a fresh pair of underwear. With all the patience in the world, he dressed you like you were something fragile, helping you into the shirt and smoothing it down, adjusting the sleeves and gently guiding your legs into the underwear. The motions were intimate, familiar, but not rushed. As though this was part of the ritual. As though he’d already known this was how the night would end.

Then he slipped away into the bathroom for a moment, and you lay there quietly, the bedsheets cool beneath you, your limbs too heavy to move. The room felt softer now, dim and hushed, like the storm had passed. Your eyes fluttered closed, though sleep didn’t come. Just more tears.

When Sylus returned, the mattress dipped beside you. He settled in close, his warmth immediately surrounding you, and without a word, he reached over and began wiping the fresh tears from your face. His thumb brushed slowly under each eye, lingering at your cheekbones, soft and unrelenting. You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry, your body aching in more ways than one.

He didn’t need to say anything. His touch said it for him: I still love you. I’m still here.

Then he picked up your phone from the nightstand, unlocking it like it was second nature. You peeked at him from the crook of your arm, face still pressed into his chest, and listened to the familiar taps as he scrolled.

Probably checking the damage, you thought bitterly.

Then came the chuckle. Soft. Low. Amused.

"Oh, sucks for you. One of these is on preorder," he said, tone light, like he wasn’t the reason you were too emotionally wrecked to argue. "Won’t get here for a few weeks. What a shame."

You groaned into his chest, letting your body sag against him like you were boneless. You didn’t need to look up to see the smug grin on his face—you could feel it in the rumble of his chest, the way his fingers casually stroked your back like you were some satisfied little cat.

He had won. Again.

There was no fighting it. No regaining the upper hand. Not now. Not when he’d read you like a book and written the ending before you even knew the chapter had started.

And now, one of the pieces you were most excited for was going to take weeks to arrive.

You rest your head on his shoulder, the rhythm of his breathing settling into the same cadence as yours.

His hand rests casually on your thigh, close but not too close, like he's testing the waters. 

It’s a moment that feels almost too perfect, the world outside feeling miles away. And yet, in the space between you two, there’s something unspoken, something heavier than either of you can name.

The movie plays on, but neither of you are really paying attention. It’s just background noise now.

Then, the movie mentions Spain.

And that’s when Rin feels it—the way your body goes still, the brief but noticeable flicker in your eyes. The glassy sheen that settles over your gaze like you're somewhere else, with someone else. Rin doesn’t need to ask where your mind's gone. He already knows.

Sae.

He’s never said it aloud, but he’s always known. It’d been four years since his brother up and left, the two of you 16 now. 

He’s never been able to fill the space Sae left. No one could.

Rin watches you, feeling that strange, gnawing feeling in his chest. It tightens, twisting into something hot, something dark. He doesn’t know how to fight it, so he doesn’t. His fingers tighten on your thigh, pressing just a little harder than usual, and before he can think better of it, he’s leaning down, capturing your lips with his own.

It’s a sudden, instinctive thing. You gasp in surprise, fingers tensing against the back of his shirt. He doesn’t pull away, just deepens the kiss, pressing you back into the mattress beneath him.

"Rin..." you breathe against him, voice trembling, but you don’t pull away. Your hand slides up to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt, grounding yourself in him as he hovers above you.

“Your parents—”

“Aren’t home,” he murmurs, the words almost lost against the skin of your jaw. His hands are already moving, slipping over your body like he’s trying to pull you closer, like he’s afraid of losing you. He kisses your neck, your collarbone, his breath ragged and uneven. And you let him.

Neither of you speaks. There’s no hesitation. The night becomes nothing but the weight of each other’s touch, the quiet gasps and the sound of your pulse beating loud in your ears.

It’s not love. It’s not even lust, not really. 

It’s something more raw, more desperate. Something neither of you can explain but both of you crave. Two people who have spent too much time in each other’s orbits, two people who have always been too close for comfort.

And when the morning light breaks through the blinds, the space between you feels uncomfortably large. Too much to say. Too much to hide.

The words never come.

A month later, Rin leaves you with an almost a quiet goodbye.

The kind that stings just a little but doesn’t tear at you the way you expect it to.

You’re standing at the station, your hands stuffed into your pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold. He stands a little ways off, looking at the train tracks like they’re the only thing he can focus on.

“Will you come back?” you ask, voice small, unsure, like you already know the answer.

Rin doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t need to. He already knows what you’re asking. But he doesn’t answer directly, only shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

His hands are in his pockets, the jacket he’s wearing too thick for the weather. But he wears it anyway, like it shields him from everything he’s never been able to say.

"I’ll see you later," he says, his voice low. A promise wrapped in uncertainty.

You don’t ask him to stay. You don’t beg him to change his mind. Instead, you just nod, the silent understanding between you two weighing heavily.

Unlike someone, Rin doesn’t leave without saying goodbye. Unlike someone, he makes sure you know that you’ll be a part of his world, somehow, no matter what.

Even if you don’t really understand it yet.

He doesn’t know it, but that’s the first time you feel the ache of him leaving.

You're older now. Twenty-one. Sae never came back, and Rin’s become someone else entirely—sharper, colder, steel beneath skin. But one thing hasn’t changed.

You still feel like home to him.

Even if you're not his.

You're someone else's now. He sees it when he runs into you again for the first time in years—your boyfriend’s hand on the small of your back, the easy way you lean into his side like you used to with Sae.

Rin looks away before his face cracks.

Later that night, you get a message.

Rin: You’re back in town?

You: Yeah. Just visiting family. You look good.

Rin: Meet me. Same park. Midnight.

He knows you’ll come. You always did.

The park hasn’t changed. Rin’s already there when you arrive, leaning back on the same bench he used to wait for Sae at when they were kids. You walk up slowly, nervous.

He doesn’t smile, but you didn’t expect him to.

“I missed you,” you say.

He looks at you for a long moment, then finally responds. “I didn’t.”

It hurts, but then he reaches out and pulls you into a kiss so deep it burns. And that says everything he won’t.

You try to tell yourself it’s a one-time thing. That you were just lonely. That Rin is just familiar.

But it keeps happening.

In stairwells. Hotel rooms. His car.

You're cheating. You know that. You know your boyfriend is kind. Patient. Safe.

But Rin is wildfire—dangerous and consuming, and there’s something so intoxicating about the way he touches you like he owns you.

He never asks about your boyfriend. Never cares.

One night, when you whisper that you should leave, that it’s wrong, he grabs your jaw, forces your eyes on his.

His voice is low. Rough.

“He’ll never know you like I do.”

You think he means your boyfriend.

But Rin’s eyes are far away—haunted, green with something old and festering.

He's thinking about Sae.

You don’t realize it at first, but Rin doesn’t love you.

Not the way you want.

He’s trying to reach someone else through you.

A memory of his brother.

Of how Sae used to laugh when you did. Of how Sae used to look at you.

Of how Sae used to love you.

Rin’s hands tremble sometimes when he touches you. He always hides it. But it’s there.

You’re not a woman to him—you’re a girl who may be the only link to the past he can never go back to.

The night it all cracks, it’s raining.

You're in your boyfriend’s apartment, lights low, and Rin is there, his lips on your throat, your shirt half-off. He drags his mouth up to your ear, murmurs the same line.

“He’ll never know you like I do.”

But then he says something else. Something different.

“He never even deserved you.”

You freeze.

“…Who?” you ask.

Rin’s hands still on your waist.

“Sae.”

The silence is suffocating.

You push away, breath caught in your chest. “Rin, what the hell—”

He doesn’t answer.

Just stares at you, soaked in rain, broken and furious.

“You think I wanted you just for you?” he hisses, jaw clenched. “I wanted everything he threw away. You. The way you looked at him. The way you laughed with him. I wanted to take it all back. Make it mine.”

You step back.

He follows.

“I’ve wanted you since before I even knew what wanting meant,” he says, voice cracking under the weight of it. “And you only ever saw him.”

You leave that night. You don’t answer his messages. You end things with your boyfriend, the feelings you once had for him now nothing but dust in the wind. 

Rin hears about it, not that he was trying to, no- someone at his local coffee spot just happened to mention how their friend just broke up with his girlfriend- you. 

Suddenly it feels like something’s missing. You’re missing.

And Rin knows it.

He shows up again weeks later. No apology. No excuses.

Just opens your door, wet from the cold, eyes wild.

You let him in anyway.

You keep seeing him. You don’t stop. You don’t know how.

You tell yourself it’s not love. But what else could it be when he looks at you like you’re all he has left?

And you—desperate, soft, too human—you let yourself believe him when he says:

“I need you.”

Because sometimes, when he touches you, you see the boy he used to be. The one who stood by you when no one else did.

But most days, you see someone else.

Someone cruel. Hungry. Possessed by the need to have what was never his.

Rin’s love was never clean.

Only greedy.

Only jealous.

Only with the kind of hunger that ruins everything it touches.

i feel like most of the parts of this series are gonna have sexual stuff in them, and i feel bad bc i feel like i'm not creative. but dyk how MEANINGFUL sleeping with someone is to a normal person? I don't add it to be weird, but to show reader just being in too deep with them.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

❀ main tags: ❀ @kenyuukissme ❀ @irethepotato ❀ @kiyy0mei ❀ @x3nafix ❀ @sugacor3 ❀ @ohagiyo ❀ @reigensuperstar ❀ @nevvynevnev ❀ join the taglist here !

❀ tags for this series: ❀ @silverwings920 , comment to be added ! ❀

You’re not supposed to have favorites, but Alexis is surprising.

He’s polite, measured, and unexpectedly thoughtful.

When you ask about the team’s colors, he talks about contrast.

When you ask what he’d wear, he leans in close and asks, “What would you want to see me in?”

It’s teasing, but not quite flirtatious. More curious. Like he genuinely wants your opinion.

Wants to understand the you behind the clipboard and the sharp tailoring.

Your meetings become regular—longer than they need to be. At first, he offers tea from the vending machine.

Then it becomes specialty drinks he brings from local cafés. You always say you’re fine with water, but Ness insists.

“Let me spoil you a little,” he says once, almost too quiet for you to hear.

You laugh it off, brushing your hand against his wrist as you take the drink. Neither of you mentions the way your fingers linger.

The turning point is subtle.

A loose thread on your sleeve. You tug it, frustrated, and Alexis reaches across the table, brushing your hand away gently.

“You’ll ruin the seam,” he murmurs, carefully twisting the thread back in place before pressing his thumb to it.

That night, he texts you for the first time without any professional reason.

Alexis: Let me know when you get home safe.

You do. And after that, it becomes routine.

You don’t notice the shift at first. How he always seems to be the one scheduling meetings now. How he volunteers to stay behind after practice just in case you need someone to test fits or model new cuts.

But Alexis notices.

He notices everything.

You make him feel full. Of something he didn’t know he’d been starving for.

He watches the way you speak to others—Isagi, Kunigami, even Kaiser—and feels his jaw tighten. They don’t deserve your attention like he does. They don’t see you the way he does.

Ness starts arriving early to meetings. Staying late. He sends you music recs. Brings you things—little gifts. A charm he saw in a boutique that “reminded him of you.” A book you mentioned in passing. Snacks you’ve never asked for.

Your boundaries blur before you even realize they’re softening.

“You’re always taking care of me,” you say one day, smiling at him. “You really don’t have to.”

But Alexis only tilts his head.

“I want to.”

He overdoes it. Slowly. Steadily.

He starts hovering during practice. Peeking into rooms where he knows you’re working. Dropping by your desk under the guise of “checking samples.” The others tease him, but he doesn’t care. He just laughs, all sugary smiles.

Then one afternoon, he walks in and sees you laughing at something Kaiser says.

That smile. That look in your eyes. Ness freezes.

It’s his.

It should be his.

He ghosts you for a few days.

No messages. No visits.

When he finally does text, it’s clipped.

Alexis: Sorry. Was busy.

You give him space, but it gnaws at you. When he finally shows up again, you find him in the locker room, sitting alone, eyes tired.

“You okay?” you ask, crouching beside him.

He looks at you—truly looks—and then his hand reaches for yours. Fingers curling too tight.

“I don’t want to share you.”

You blink, startled. “Alexis…”

“I know I shouldn’t say that.” His voice trembles, and it hits you then—he’s not just obsessed. He’s drowning in it. “But I hate when you’re not with me.”

“Alexis, I was never—”

“You are, though.” His voice hardens. “You act like this is just a job, but it’s not. Not for me. You made me believe—”

“I didn’t make you believe anything.”

The silence after is sharp. Wounding.

His eyes narrow just slightly, the sweetness peeling back like a mask slipping.

“No,” he whispers. “You just let me.”

Alexis Ness doesn’t understand temporary.

“You don’t get it,” he continues, voice shaking now, standing in the doorway of your shared design room. “You made me want more.”

“Alexis—”

“You gave me a taste and then decided I don’t get to have the whole thing?” he asks, stepping closer. “That’s not how it works. You started this.”

You realize then that it’s not love. Not even infatuation.

It’s hunger.

He wants all of you—the time, the praise, the attention. Not because he cherishes it, but because he can’t bear the idea of not having it. Of not owning it. Of not consuming it completely.

You take distance. You stop replying late at night. You ask Ego to assign another player to help finish the final part of the line. Alexis doesn't fight it, not out loud.

But the next time you see him at a team event, his eyes follow you the whole time.

You’re in a corner, quietly talking to someone from PR. And he watches you. Drinks you in.

Not like a man looking at someone he loves.

Like a man starving all over again.

He texts you again, long after the project ends.

Alexis: You ruined me, you know.

Alexis: But I’d still wear anything you designed.

Alexis: Just say the word.

You never respond.

But the next Bastard München campaign? The one featuring Alexis Ness?

He wears a bracelet you left on the meeting table. Barely noticeable.

Except to him.

It’s the only thing he keeps from you. And he never takes it off.

i know it's short but it is so hard to write someone as the embodiment of gluttony but not LITERAL gluttony yk?

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

❀ tags: ❀ @kenyuukissme ❀ @irethepotato ❀ @kiyy0mei ❀ @x3nafix ❀ @sugacor3 ❀ @ohagiyo ❀ @reigensuperstar ❀ @nevvynevnev ❀ join the taglist here !

❀ tags for this series: ❀ @silverwings920 ❀ comment to be added to this series taglist!

Sukuna hadn't known this side of himself for a long time. Maybe it was because he wasn't mature enough in his younger years. Maybe it was because his past relationships never offered him the amount of trust and love that the relationship with you gives him.

But Sukuna still remembers the day that changed everything. The day that made him discover something about himself and about his deepest needs.

He only wanted to take a short trip to your favorite lingerie boutique to buy a little something for you for White Day. A new set of sinfully expensive lingerie that you could wear for him.

It had been a stressful day at work, a meeting with the CEO of a rival company that had left Sukuna pissed off and on the edge. He hoped to find distraction in picking sexy underwear for his beloved wife, picturing you in it, easing his mind with thoughts of fucking you while you wore that pretty red lacey set with the little heart dangling from it.

But things didn't go as Sukuna had planned. His gaze strayed away from the luxurious red lace lingerie and landed on a display of collars. And all of a sudden Sukuna felt conflicted. So damn conflicted.

At that moment, he couldn't tell why the sight of those collars made him feel so strange. He drew his gaze away again and strolled to another corner of the boutique to look at more beautiful lingerie sets. But he couldn't focus. His thoughts stayed occupied with those leather collars. And suddenly, he found that his feet had carried him back to that one display.

He walked past it several times until he sighed and finally stopped in front of it, took one collar out of the shelf, and let it glide through his fingers. The black leather felt nice in his hand, smooth and warm. He tried to picture it on you, but to his utter surprise, he realized that it wasn't you who he wanted to put it on.

Oh. That is interesting.

He gulped.

His large hand trembled slightly when he brought the collar up a bit. He held it in front of his throat, feeling his pulse accelerate at seeing his faint reflection in the glass display.

What if...

He ground his teeth in annoyance when the shop assistant interrupted his moment by walking up to him.

"I see you are also interested in our Playtime Collection, sir. All collars and restraints are of the highest quality, of course. They offer high comfort and long usage. Do you want to pick one for your wife to go with the lingerie? I would recommend a thinner one in that case, more delicate, and maybe in a matching red? We also have some collars with a diamond charm. That collection is very popular for White Day. Should I get it for you?"

Sukuna stood there in silence for several seconds, too stunned to say anything. A rare moment for the CEO of the SHRINE Company. But he was a professional, after all, and so he turned around to smile politely at the shop assistant, his usual mask perfectly in place, as he informed her,

"No, thank you. This one is perfect. Put it in a separate gift box, please."

He left the shop feeling light-headed, and the bag sitting on the passenger seat of his Porsche seemed to emit a seductive lure the whole drive home, making adrenaline pump through Sukuna's veins.

What if she puts that collar on me?

The thought excited him and made him feel ashamed at the same time.

Never had he imagined he would be into this. Wasn't it embarrassing that a man like him even contemplated something like this?

But underneath that shame was something else. Something he craved: Comfort.

He knew what a collar like that meant. I wasn't just a pretty little accessory. It meant giving yourself to someone. It meant a sub giving themselves into their dom's hands fully. And that was a thought that made him grip the steering wheel tighter.

Wouldn't it be lovely? Wouldn't it be exactly what he needed after a hard day like this? Coming home and letting you put a collar on him? Giving himself into your loving hands? Handing control over to you. He loved you with his whole heart and soul. He trusted you like he never thought he could trust someone apart from himself.

Wouldn't it be so comforting to let you collar him and dominate him completely? Wouldn't it be such a relief to let himself fall into you? To hand control over to someone else, at least for a few hours, in the safety of his home?

The thought made a low groan slip from Sukuna's mouth.

He hid the small gift box in the walk-in closet. It sat there next to his designer watches and golden cufflinks, waiting for him to finally propose the idea to you.

When he did, after an exquisite dinner a few days later, you had smiled at him, slipped on his lap, and petted his hair, eyes filled with love and understanding.

"You want me to collar you? You want to be my... submissive?"

"Yes, that's what I want, darling. Only if you are comfortable with the idea."

"Of course I am. It will help you with all the pressure at work. It will help you let go. You know I am always worried about you with all the high stress levels you have day in and day out. I'm glad you came to me with this idea, Sukuna."

He released a breath of relief and tightened his arms around you. Of course, you understood. You always knew exactly what he needed.

Sukuna laughed softly. How funny it was. Here he was, this tall, buff man with a body full of solid muscles and intimidating-looking tattoos, someone who was feared in the whole business world, while you were so soft and small compared to him. But he knew you would catch him. He knew you would be strong, so he could be weak. He knew he wanted to be on his knees for you.

You did research starting that night. You discussed everything with him, set boundaries, and outlined how you both expected this dynamic to work. You went shopping with him the next day, getting everything you needed. You started slowly and tried things, experimenting to see what you both liked and to find out what exactly Sukuna needed.

That was a year ago. Sukuna has been collared for eleven months now, and he has never felt more liberated in his life. The collar grounds him. The collar takes the pressure off.

Sometimes, when he has an extremely stressful day in the office, he takes five minutes off to close his eyes and imagine coming home and getting on his knees for you. Just the thought of you putting his collar on him tonight helps him get through his busy workday. Just the thought of being allowed to get into subspace tonight makes him get through another meeting.

When you are in public, your roles are reversed in everyone else's eyes. Sukuna is the powerful CEO. The big, muscular hunk of a man in his designer suit who is in control at all times. The one with the smug smirk and the snide remarks. The one who effortlessly navigates through this business party and holds an immaculate speech before mingling with the crowd, where he charms new potential business partners into making a deal with him. And you are the sweet little wife on his arm who looks up at him and depends on her rich and dominant husband to take care of her.

They don't know the truth.

They don't know that you told Sukuna before the party that if he is a good boy tonight and manages to get that potential new business partner on his side, you will let him worship your pussy when you are home again.

Sukuna never expected how easy it would be, how natural it would feel to hand over control to you and let himself slip into subspace. How splendid it would feel to give himself fully to you.

He sighs when you bind his wrists with his tie, fixing them behind his back. He feels warm when you tell him to kneel for you. He is excited by the way you look at him when he is on the floor on his knees for you, with his muscular thighs spread, completely naked while you are still dressed. He loves to feel your gaze on his body, on his muscles, on his tattoos. He loves to see the love in your eyes.

Sukuna groans when your gaze lands on his cock, taking your time to look at him. It's so arousingly intimate. You have seen him naked so many times, have seen and touched his cock so often. But it is different when he is bound and kneeling before you. It makes him so hard that he feels dizzy. Pre-cum is running thickly down his hard length as your gaze inspects his cock and his taut full balls.

He moans when you get up from the bed and stand beside him, putting a hand in his pink hair and tugging on it gently, pulling his head against your hip, petting his hair, and cooing at him,

"My pretty boy."

Sukuna can't help but let out a sigh of relief and nuzzle his face gratefully against your hip. He feels exhilarated when you grab his hair and tug on it, smiling while you look at him and tell him,

"Open your mouth for me, my love."

He does so eagerly, opening up and sticking his tongue out while gazing up at you through his long black lashes. He is well-trained and proud of it. Sukuna has always been a fast learner, driven by his ambitious nature. A man used to working for his well-deserved success. Always striving to be the best. Of course, he had excelled in this task, too. In becoming the perfect submissive pet for you.

He can see the approval and adoration in your eyes, and it makes his heart feel so full. Especially when you praise him for his obedience.

"Such a good boy."

Your fingers caress his hair, making him moan lightly when your nails scratch over his undercut, but his mouth stays open, his tongue still sticking out, eyes fixed on your face, waiting for your command or for whatever you have planned for him tonight. Finally, he doesn't have to make decisions anymore. Finally, he can rest and give himself into your loving hands.

You slowly part your lips, which are painted with the beautiful, deep red lipstick he loves so much on you. His lashes flutter in anticipation. Your hand grabs his chin, gently tilting his head further upwards, and then you spit in his waiting mouth, letting your spit drool into his mouth slowly, showing him that from now on, you are the one in control.

"Now swallow it."

He does so, and your hand caresses his cheek lovingly.

"You are so good for me, Sukuna. You truly deserve your collar, baby."

His cock twitches needily when you put it on him, and he feels the smooth leather wrap around his throat. Your fingertips caress his neck lovingly for a moment before you pull away to let your hands slip under your skirt. Sukuna watches with a lust-filled gaze as you pull down your panties, the lacey red ones he gifted to you. You let them fall to the floor as you sit down on the bed, spreading your legs, letting Sukuna see your glistening wet cunt underneath your short skirt.

"You were such a good boy tonight at the party. It's time for your reward."

Sukuna moans softly when you fasten the leash on the golden ring on his collar and give it a firm tug, pulling him closer until he is kneeling between your spread legs.

Your pussy is right in front of his face, hot and dripping wet. So beautiful, so enticing. He can feel your warmth, can smell your sweet scent. He wants to push his face between your legs so badly. But he waits obediently like the good boy he wants to be. He waits for your command.

"Spoil my pussy, pretty boy. Make me cum on that pretty face of yours."

And Sukuna is happy to obey. He eats you out devotedly. He worships your pussy. Licks it, kisses it, sniffs it, loves it with tender kisses and sweet suckles on your swollen clit, and fucks it with his tongue until you gasp his name and cum on his face.

You reach down afterward to tease his cock. Edging him, running a teasing fingertip over his swollen mushroom head and pressing it against his slit. Giving him a few slow pumps only to pull away again. Circling his tip lovingly, swooping up a pearl of pre-cum, and bringing your finger to your lips to taste him, moaning and praising him for how sweet he tastes.

You coo praise at him for being so strong, for being so good for you, for holding back so long. Sukuna's head is spinning. He is drowning in the warmth of your love, in the sweet comfort of your control over him. His cock throbs heavily, so close to busting his load. But your voice drifts to his ears,

"Uh uh, not yet, my love. Not yet. Take your time, baby. You've been working so hard those last few days. I need you to let go fully before you are allowed to cum. Free yourself from everything. Let go of work and your busy schedule. You aren't the CEO of SHRINE here in this room. You are my pet. You are my good boy. I own you, and I decide everything for you. You don't have to think anymore, Sukuna. I will tell you when to cum. Give yourself to me."

And he nods, breathing heavily as his cock throbs with pleasure and need. It would be easy for a strong man like Sukuna to slip out of his restraints and manhandle you, throw you on the bed, and fuck you into the mattress until he is satisfied. That knowledge somehow makes this whole scenario even more arousing. Because he knows he won't give in to these urges. He will be a good boy. He will be strong. He will hold back as long as you want him to. He isn't the one who decides things here. He is yours completely.

You smile at him, and your gaze travels over his body again until it stops on his hard cock.

"Look at that gorgeous cock of yours. So long, so thick, so strong. And all mine."

When you join him on the floor, Sukuna is already a mess, sweating and moaning, cock twitching needily, his balls sticky from all the pre-cum that ran down his length.

You get on your knees and put your small hands on his muscular thighs, caressing them tenderly as you slowly lean closer to blow air onto Sukuna's swollen wet cockhead, making him groan loudly.

"Aww, so cute for me, hm my prince? Can you be my good boy and cum on command? Can you cum just from me looking at your pretty cock?"

Your words make a low growl fall from Sukuna's lips as his balls tighten and his cock twitches. He gulps and looks at you, maroon eyes burning into yours as he nods,

"Yes, please let me show you how good I can be for you."

You smile and moan softly, your eyes clouded over by lust, and it makes Sukuna's stomach flutter and his heart throb. More pre-cum is trickling down his hot length and runs over his taut balls before it drips onto the carpet underneath him. And your eyes are on his cock and his balls, following that small rivulet of pre.

Your voice is a tender caress,

"Such a sweet boy for me."

Sukuna's muscles are taut, biceps flexed, wrists straining against the tie, pecs, and abs taut, his thighs clenched. Your words drive him crazy. And the feeling of your eyes on him, on his cock, makes his head spin.

There is something so demeaning about kneeling here on the floor, bound and horny, being told to cum on command, being told to cum untouched like some pathetic little virgin who never fucked his load into a woman.

But oh, how he loves it. How it gives him peace. How it turns him on. Sukuna can't help but roll his hips as if fucking into your tight cunt, rutting his cock against nothing, as a shaky moan falls from his lips.

Your hand cups his cheek and caresses it lovingly before it wanders down over his flexed pecs and biceps.

"You are so beautiful. Look at that pretty cock. Look how much you're leaking all over yourself."

His gaze travels down to his cock, and he groans loudly, seeing his angry dark pink, swollen cockhead, messy from all the precum. He feels and sees his cock twitch at the attention, so aroused that you are looking at him. And he feels his balls tightening, feels his thighs spread even more, and he knows he is close, so fucking close.

It's your voice that sends him over the edge,

"Now show me, baby. Show me how that pretty cock cums for me. Make a big mess all over yourself, Kuna. Cum for me. Now."

White hot lights fill his vision as he feels himself cum, cock twitching and shooting his hot cum all over himself in messy white ropes.

The sounds coming out of his mouth are sounds Sukuna would never let anyone else hear. Desperate whimpers and needy mewls, a shaky sob when his cock throbs and shoots another spurt of hot cum all over the carpet and his thighs.

You talk him through it, coo at him, praise him for being such a good boy, telling him how pretty he looks and how pretty his cock is when it shoots cum everywhere. How cute he is when he makes such a mess for you.

And Sukuna's head is spinning. He shoots his whole orgasm all over himself until his spent cock just twitches, but no cum comes out anymore.

He still moans when you make him clean it up, swooping up his cum from his abs and chest and feeding it to him from your fingers. And more moans fall from Sukuna's lips when you tug on his leash to make him lean down and lick his milky cum off the floor. He does so obediently, and when you tell him to open his mouth and stick his tongue out to show you that he really was a good boy and swallowed it all, he can't help but smile proudly.

He is happy, so happy when you praise him and when you take the tie of his wrists and hug him lovingly, praising him for being so good for you.

He feels pride surge through him, filling his every pore. Sukuna is a proud man through and through in all aspects of his life. Confident and self-assured, even arrogant most of the time. But nothing fills him with so much pride as this. Cumming untouched at your command.

This is his biggest accomplishment today. Not that he succeeded in snatching a lucrative business deal from the white-haired Gojo brat. Not that he poached one of the Zenin Group's most important partners. No, his biggest accomplishment today was that he was a good boy for you. The thing Sukuna is the most proud of is cumming exactly how you told him to.

He smiles proudly as he looks up at you. You smile back at him and run a hand through his hair, cocking your head and asking in a voice full of love,

"What do good boys say?"

And Sukuna's smile grows even bigger, and he says loud and clear in his smooth, velvety voice,

"Thank you."

His heart feels so full when you nod, and your eyes fill with pride. You pet him and lean down to kiss him on the lips. Lovingly and tender, showering him with affection.

Sukuna thinks no one in his small circle of people he considers his friends truly knows him. Not even Uraume, who has been his assistant for many years.

No one but you.

You know him. You know what he needs. You know what he needs on the days he comes home with a victorious glint in his eyes. You know what he needs when he comes home tired and stressed. And you also know what he needs when he comes home in a grumpy mood, complaining about work and all the incompetent fools he has to deal with all day.

"What's with that attitude, Sukuna? I think I have to put you in your place again."

Yes, you know exactly what he needs. He told you he wants you to be rougher with him whenever he is in one of those foul moods. That he wants you to rein him in on those days. Because you are the only person who can do that.

Your words instantly shut him up, and he feels himself already slipping into his submissive role as he smirks at you across the table and tells you in his low, velvety voice,

"I would be delighted if you showed me my place, my love."

Soon, his smirk is replaced by soft groans as Sukuna writhes on the bed.

Finally, he is free. He doesn't have to think but can only feel. He can let himself fall into this delicious mix of pain and pleasure, and you catch him with your love.

He is used to being in control. He is used to being a powerful man in his everyday work life. He is used to being a King, so to speak. But not here, not in your bedroom during a scene. Here you reign. Here you are, his Queen, and he is the obedient prince. A beloved, pretty pet.

You trail the leather paddle slowly over his skin. Just a teasing touch, a light caress, tracing his firm muscles while you admire his tall, muscular body spread out for you. Sukuna is breathing heavily, arousal and excited anticipation filling his veins. His cock is rock hard, trapped under his heavy body, pressing against the silky sensation of the bedsheets. Every inch of his skin is highly sensitive right now.

He knows the sweet pain will come any moment now. It makes him heady with lust. You have reached the top of his back, slowly trailing the paddle over his neck and the stubble of his undercut before you pull it away.

A loud, needy groan falls from Sukuna's lips at the same time that the loud slapping sound of the leather paddle connecting firmly with his ass cheeks fills the room.

Finally, he is falling. Finally, he is slipping into the sweet, delirious comfort of subspace. Bound to the bed, spread out for you, this tall, muscular man so utterly at your mercy. It is everything Sukuna needs.

Another firm slap lands on his ass, and Sukuna moans into the pillow. It's a feral sound, low and primal. He promised you to not hold back during your scenes, and he found that it's freeing to let it all out and be loud in bed and let you hear his unrestrained lust.

And your praise makes it even better. A soft hand lands on his firm ass cheek where you just spanked him a moment ago. Such a tender, soothing touch in stark contrast to the hard slap and the sting of the paddle. You caress his ass tenderly while you whisper to him,

"You are my good boy, Kuna. Doing so well for me. Are you ready for the next round? I'll do five this time. Do you think you can take it, baby?"

He nods,

"Yes, please. I'm ready. Please give me more."

It was never as easy and natural for him to beg as here in your bed.

Sukuna takes the spanking like the good boy that he is. He moans and growls and begs for more. And you spank him to an orgasm that makes him almost black out. With his buff muscles tensing up, his toned arms pulling at the restraints as his strong body shakes and trembles, his cock twitching beneath him, soaking the bed sheets with his hot cum, while he sobs into the pillow, a mix of your name and breathless thank yous.

You give him time before you untie him and tell him to turn on his back, joining him on the bed to spoil his cock with slow, thorough strokes until he is hard again and moaning and twitching. You finally straddle his lap and sink down on his throbbing length, riding him until you scream his name and cum on him with your warm cream gushing over him, pushing Sukuna over the edge, too, letting him fill your sweet cunt with his cum as a reward for being so good for you.

It's the end of a particularly stressful week, and Sukuna finds himself unable to relax. The book he wanted to read lies forgotten on the leather couch. He couldn't focus on the words. The hot bath he took didn't help him relax his tense muscles.

But then he hears the sound of the elevator followed by your footsteps as you walk into the penthouse, and he feels his skin tingle.

He is by your side only seconds later, wrapping his arms around you from behind, greeting you with a loving kiss on the neck and a murmured,

"I missed you, darling."

He has been looking forward to this Saturday evening. Has been craving it, knowing what he will get tonight because he worked so hard this week.

"Is my sweet prince ready to get all the stress fucked out of him?"

It's the ultimate level of submission in Sukuna's eyes. And the ultimate comfort.

Yes, Sukuna can be sweet. Yes, he can be submissive. Yes, he can be a good boy. And he proves it to you right there on the bed in a position that is so vulnerable but so freeing.

His face is resting on the dark red silk pillow, his thick muscular thighs are spread, exposing himself to you fully.

His cock is swollen, throbbing hard, pre-cum oozing needily out of his slit and running down his veiny length and into the silk sheets. His balls almost ache from how taut they are. Anytime you are about to peg him, he is so hard that he thinks he will faint.

But the feeling of the leather collar around his neck grounds him and gives him reassurance.

Sukuna groans softly when your hands trail slowly over his muscular back, caressing him, massaging his tense muscles, your voice so sweet and soothing while your lips trail kisses down his back,

"You are doing so well for me, baby. So beautiful."

Your praise makes his cock twitch, and a low groan spills from his lips. You finger him open, taking your sweet time with him, lubing his tight hole up thoroughly, gradually adding more fingers, and leaving gentle kisses on his back. Cooing at him when your fingertips rub against his prostate and needy moans fall from Sukuna's lips.

You pull away, but only to straddle the back of his thighs, leaning down over him to tease him with the slicked-up tip of the strap you are wearing. Rubbing lightly against Sukuna's lubed-up hole, driving him crazy, making him moan and whimper, sounds that he usually would never make. Your warm breath caresses his neck, and your lips brush tenderly over his skin,

"Are you ready for me, baby? Can my prince take my cock?"

His hole clenches at your words, his hips buck.

"Yes, please fuck me."

Sukuna almost can't take it anymore, head spinning from lust, sobs escaping his lips as he forces himself to hold back and not take but only receive as you keep teasing his lubed-up entrance with the tip of your strap, slowly stretching him open around the thick tip.

He gasps loudly when you push the dildo into him fully, his ass twitching around it, even as Sukuna's gasp turns into a hoarse groan.

"So cute. Such a good boy for me."

You sound breathless too, and a moment later, you roll your hips into him, beginning with a slow but deep pace, fucking Sukuna with deep strokes that make both of you moan.

Soon, the pace becomes faster and harder, the tip of the dildo hitting Sukuna's sensitive prostate unrelentingly, making him see stars.

A wild, loud moan falls from his lips, uncontrolled, desperate, full of lust and pain and raw need.

He needs this today. This was a stressful week. He needs to get fucked rough. Needs to get dicked down hard. Needs to get wrecked.

And you give him everything he needs. You fuck him with punishing hard thrusts, torturing his prostate with your thick strap, making Sukuna's body tremble beneath you, making him sob and whine into the pillow, the pillowcase wet from his spit and even some tears.

Instinctively, he begins to rut against the mattress, grinding his leaking cock needily against it. But a firm slap lands on his right ass cheek.

"Stop that. Good boys don't need their cocks rubbed. And you are a good boy, Sukuna, aren't you? You are my very, very good boy, right baby? A good boy like you cums just from my strap, right?"

He nods wildly, sobbing as he answers you, his voice almost unrecognizable, higher than usual, full of tears and raw need,

"Y.. yes! Yes, I am your good boy! Please, please...let me cum on your cock! I won't disobey!"

You moan softly at his plea. Your warm hands run up his muscular back, caressing him, every touch making his cock throb. And you go slow, so slow, pulling the dildo out of him almost completely, making Sukuna whine loudly. But he instantly shuts up when you tug on his leash. He grits his teeth and forces himself to stay still, giving himself to you, waiting for you patiently.

Anything to be a good boy for you. Not demanding anything, not taking anything. That isn't his place, and he knows it. He is here to receive. To give himself to you completely. He forces himself to calm his breathing, relaxing his flexed muscles, and you reward him with a whispered,

"Aww, yes, just like that, baby. So good for me. I trained you so well, hm? Now take it, baby."

And you roll your hips into him, pushing the thick dildo back all the way into Sukuna's tight ass, making him moan, loud and broken, as his strong body shudders under you.

You laugh softly and grind your hips against him, rotating them slowly, rubbing the dildo against his prostate, sending shock wave after shock wave of bliss through him. And Sukuna cries out, unable to hold back. But no words are leaving his lips. At this point, he is unable to form them, only loud, unintelligible, needy cries and whiny moans.

He knows he won't last long now, can already feel the familiar tightening in his heavy balls, can feel the pressure inside him build almost unbearably. His muscles flex again, and you moan his name, full of love, followed by the command he needed to hear so badly,

"Aww, yes, Kuna. You're so good for me. You can cum on my cock now, baby."

And he does. Crying out loudly, a wet, unrestrained, desperate sound full of tears of bliss. His ass clenches hard around your strap, his strong body shuddering from wave after wave of a world-shattering prostate orgasm ripping through him. His cock pulses copious amounts of hot sticky seed onto the already stained sheets. Testament to the bliss he found here.

You lean down to kiss his neck gently, trailing tender kisses all over his broad back, fucking him slowly through his orgasm, moaning when you cum on the strap, too, just a few seconds later.

Sukuna closes his eyes and feels some hot tears slip out of the corners of his eyes as you snuggle against him, resting on his broad back, the dildo still buried deeply inside him, and you caress him, cuddle him, and whisper sweet praise to him, telling him how much you love him. And he knows he is in heaven here with you. No matter how stressful his life as a CEO is, he can endure it because he can come home to you and let you take care of him.

To everyone else, Sukuna is the feared alpha male. But to you, he is your good boy, and that's a fact that can get him through any workday.

He will continue to expand his business empire. He will acquire new business partners. He will go to countless meetings and negotiate contract after contract. Sukuna will work hard to make his company the best in the whole country.

But only if he knows he can be on his knees for you every night with the leather collar around his neck and your fingers petting his hair while you call him your good boy. Only when every Saturday he is allowed to cum on your strap.

His success is just as much your success. Because without you, Sukuna couldn't be the man he needs to be.

This was the first time I wrote submissive Sukuna, and it was so much fun!! IT WAS SO EXHILARATING TO WRITE THIS FIC!! Thank you so much to the sweet anon who sent me the ask about my thoughts on sub!Sukuna. He is SUCH a good boy ;) I want to hear him whimper and sob so bad!!

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it.