but after enough nights spent with L, you’ve learned compromise is the closest thing to victory. this was the only way to get him to eat at all when he became hyperfocused on cases like these.

"eat." you whisper. you lean down to kiss his temple, and the moment your lips brush his skin, damp strands of black hair cling to your mouth.

your expression flattens from that adoring, concerned look to a death glare almost immediately.

L turns his head to you slowly with a wide-eyed look of a man who's well aware of his crimes.

“you said you were going to dry your hair,” your eyes narrow.

“i will,” he replies.

“one hour ago.”

he looks down at the screen again with a tiny huff, picking up a cookie delicately between his thumb and index finger with his typical pinching motion, letting it dangle there before taking a bite.

“are you ignoring me?” you ask, poking the top of his wet head.

“you’ll scold me if i answer,” he says around the mouthful, completely unbothered.

you stare at him for a second in disbelief before exhaling through your nose, pushing his head. “don’t complain to me when you get a headache later.”

then you turn and walk away.

years of detective work have made L exceptionally good at predicting human behavior.

so ten minutes later, you return holding a towel, and it's exactly as he expected.

“was this your plan all along?” you grumble.

you settle onto the couch behind him, and without hesitation, he shifts until he’s comfortably seated between your legs, cheek pressed against your inner thigh while you begin rubbing the towel against his damp hair.

he nods once. completely shameless.

you clamp your knees around his head in punishment.

"ow." he mutters. but doesn't fight back.

“unbelievable.”

L only hums softly, eyes still fixed on the footage playing onscreen as your fingers work through the dark strands. then he tilts his chin backwards far enough to look up at you.

his lips form that natural pout of his that always makes your heart ache unbeknownst to him. big dark eyes. heavy shadows beneath them. round and empty-looking in the way that fools almost everyone into believing there’s nothing behind them at all — you know better.

unfortunately, that doesn’t stop him from looking unbearably adorable.

for a moment, you want to put the towel down, squish his cheeks between your hands and kiss every inch of his stupid face.

instead, still annoyed, you pinch his nose.

his brows twitch.

“do your work,” you grumble, pushing his head forward again.

he doesn't need to respond for you to know he's smiling.

Mikami. - Mikami, he would be an absolute YEARNER... now.. he would be praising you like Kira, but he would not love you more than Kira, X-Mikami would set you aside and see you as a distraction from his 'full potential' from serving his 'god'. Mikami would most likely call you pet names like 'baby, darling, goddess, and sweetheart'. He would treat you like a goddess, buy whatever your eyes casted upon, and surprise you with dates and gifts. During arguments, which was rare, Mikami wouldn't yell and try to reason out with you, or he'd go on his knees begging you not to leave, but overall the relationship is healthy. It would take him years to get over you. Would Mikami be intimate? YESSSS !! He would literally submit to you, and let you take over any time, he would IMMEDIATELY stop if you asked him to, and take care of you. You don't even need to ask for after care cause it will be DONE. Mikami would write you love notes and lavish you ALL OVER.. No death note Mikami would absolutely murder you with his love, his attention and mind would all be to you no matter what. Mikami's type would be any girl as long as they loved him equally, skinny, big, acne, glasses. He would kiss whatever you thought was bad about yourself.

Mail Jeevas. - Matt, he would cheat on you and act like he didn't do it, or he would swear he would change his whole world for you, you wouldn't care because you'd leave him for Mello or someone else anyday. He would get you not to leave by begging, and it usually works. Would he yell during arguments? no, he'd stay calm but have annoyance in his voice just to get away from you so he can get back to his game, the way he sees it is that if he stays calm the argument would die down quicker, which works. Matt would DEFINITELY trade you for a game or console, he would NOT give a fuck about you. He would take you out for midnight drives just speeding through the streets, if he got caught by police he would most likely make Mello pay the fine to bail you guys out.. Matt would share the chocolate he gets from Mello with you as a loving way?.. Would Matt be intimate?.. ..Maybe not.. only when he wants.. and yes he'd ask you to send but never uses it against you. Would he send back? If he feels like doing so. He would call you 'baby' and that's about it in my opinion. Matt would wrap his arm around you. Wammy house Matt, like say you grew up with him there, oh he would love you especially if you were into games as much as him. His type would definitely be someone brunette or blonde, dark eyes, thick lashes, PERFECT BODY, and height between 5'-5'4" since he is canonically 5'6" he would go for someone older and shorter than him so he wouldn't feel bad about his height.

Mihael Keehl. - Mello would not care about you at all, same like Light, he would only date you if it meant getting closer to the death note. (if he hadn't already gotten it) He'd most likely keep his arm around your waist possessively and let you boss around the mafia, he wouldn't be the type to spoil you, but when it comes to a fancy date he would buy you all the luxury jewelry and a gorgeous dress of his kind. Would Mello yell during arguments? ABSOLUTELY, he would yell, throw items, break things, slam his fists in the walls, all while not caring about what you think. Mello would share his chocolate with you and show you his secret stash. Like Matt, he would take out on midnight drives but instead on his motorcycle. Would Mello be intimate? YES, again like matt, only when he wants. When he does its most likely to get his anger out or something like that (which he's angry 99% of the time). Wammy house Mello would most likely be the same but much more like like infuriating since he would be under the pressure of becoming L’s successsor. Mello's type would be someone like Wedy but with much longer hair, and maybe shorter than him, he DEFINITELY would go for some one older.

Nate River. - Near would love you, he would share his toys with you and point out every time you blush, every time your heart rate increases, and so on. He would be more of himself around you, like become more loose?.. Would Near yell during arguments? no, because you guys would never get in arguments. When he is tired he would lay his head in your lap and fall asleep that way, he would definitely cuddle with you. Near is more on the passionate side out of the Wammy boys.. From time to time he'd let you play with his hair (YES IT WOULD BE SOFT AND FLUFFY OMG). Near would hug you at random times showing his love to you. Would Near be intimate? no I am sorry.. I can't IMAGINE Near being intimate with anyone. The most he'd do is kiss you and nothing more !! His way of dates would be like making forts or movie nights !! Wammy house Near would be an absolute cutie, he would be stressed but he would still calculate, and make time for you. His type would be short women like 4'9 to 5'1", hair color doesn't matter and eyes as well.

L Lawliet. - L would love you but see you as a distraction, he would try to make time for you but fail and bury his head in another case. Some times he would join you in bed, or you dragging him to bed, and sleep by your side head on your chest as he sleeps like a baby. L would share his cake with you, sometimes feeding it to you directly while you watch him solve cases. Would L yell during arguments? no, he'd stay calm or walk out to do his work, leaving you angrier and causing yourself to sleep in tears or anger. He would feel bad and spoil you with sweets, or if you weren't a candy person, breakfast in bed. Would L be intimate? sometimes.. he would tease just to get a reaction out of you while keeping his neutral face. L definitely shows his real self around you, like a much more softer version.. He would take you to his favorite cafes in his free time, or to talk about the Kira case with you and your thoughts. If he really needed time by himself to work on something and you were there, he would throw his card at you and tell you to spend as much as you want, literally no limit, of course he'd look over the items and tell you that everything is unreasonable and there is no point to buying them but you'd just kiss the tip of his nose and he'd forget every living bit of what you bought. Wammy house L would probably not care about you, he’d focus on his puzzles and all that but yes he would let you help him while sharing his candy with you !! His type would be short, so when he stands up straight he could pick on you, most likely doe eyes, brown. Hair type.. brunette or black hair, style in clothes I would like to say emo type..? and a mix of 2000s, so like Misa's clothes.

Beyond Birthday. - Ohh my man... Beyond Birthday would OBSESS over you, more than Mikami obsesses over Light. He wouldn't approach you like a normal human being, he would break into your home and leave weird but loving messages in your fogged up mirror as you shower. He would love you in he most creepiest way ever, like basically dark romance. Beyond would buy you gifts like necklaces, fragrances, but no clothing. Would he watch you sleep? Yes. Beyond would most likely have a whole ass journal about you, probably with one page being ‘i love you’ all over again. He would share his jam with you by leaving it at your doorstep. Would he be intimate? YES, he literally said hes an agressive top.. trust.. Would he yell in an argument? no it would always end up in sex or him buying you a gift. Beyond would show himself to you while your watching televistion with all the lights off. Wammy house before A’s death Beyond would be an absolute sweetheart, nothing like how he is now, he most likely has brown hair but after Wammy’s just dyed it to black to make himself look like L. His type would be any, maybe on the skinnier side but everything else doesnt matter. As long as you’re his victim and he finds you cute.

Beyond’s breath was hot against your skin, every huff drenched in guttural snarls tearing their way from inside him as he leveraged his hips in ways that you were sure he was going to drive you right through the mattress, but you didn’t care.

Nothing felt better than this, digging your nails deep into his shoulders to let him know that every bruise he left meant love to you.

“Harder.” He demanded, low and husky in ways that made your core burn even when he wasn’t touching you. “I want you to draw blood.” He quickened his pace as you obeyed him.

You always obeyed him. It’s what you both wanted anyway, and you rewarded each other with groans of pleasure and kisses that verged on bites delivered on venomous lips as you writhed together beneath the damp sheets.

The unwelcome buzzing from the nightstand, an unfortunate interruption, broke you from the moment. You hoped it would go to voicemail, but it just persisted, almost vibrating off the edge of the small table to the floor. A few swats and the phone was clutched in your hand.

“Hello?”

There was no time to register the response from the other end of the line. Beyond had snatched the cell from you and was…handling it, never pausing his relentless motions.

“Can’t talk. They’re busy fucking me.” Without another word, he threw it across the room, the clunk that resonated with its landing almost certainly meant you would need a new one.

"You don’t answer to them. You answer to me and me alone." His smirk stretched into a full grin, both playful and wicked. “You know you have to be punished for that, right?”

His sunk his teeth into the soft flesh just above your collarbone unapologetically, the warm sting of blood drawn bringing a smile to your face as you feel his crimson-stained grin hovering over your mouth, the salty metallics lingering on his lips.

“What are you waiting for,” you taunt up at him through breathy pants. “Kiss me already. I want to taste my blood on your lips.”

He sneered down at you with lust in his eyes. “You think you’re in any position to give me an order?”

“Maybe.”

Not to beat around the bush: he does not know how to interact with people very well. But, he knows he likes you. He knows he wants to be around you. He knows you make him happy. And nothing is going to stop him from getting what he wants. So, if he needs to speed read "how to get the girl" books and binge on romance movies in order to know how to win your favour, he will.

He's romantic in his own way. Will bring you flowers but they're rotting and smell questionable. Will serenade you with Nikki Minaj and Yung Gravy and he cannot sing. Brings you a beautiful necklace and when you comment on it, he will grin with all the confidence in the world and proclaim, "Thanks! I stole it!"

Pretty physically affectionate and very cuddly. Likes to nuzzle into you like a cat and pull you into his arms. Walks up from behind and scares you so you fall and he has to catch you. Curls up on your sofa and pats his chest so you come lay on him, though be warned this guy is skin and bones, you might wanna grab a pillow or somethin.

Talks. A lot. Like he will rant for hours about absolutely nothing and keeping up with his train of thought can be dizzying. It's not that he doesn't make sense, it's just that his brain moves so much faster than his mouth and he has absolutely no filter so you're literally just hearing his thought process.

Very possessive, but with little way to keep it in check. He's very much a person you only see when it's just the two of you (he technically doesn't have an identity and hates large crowds, so there's not really a good way for him to roam during the day), so he only hears about your friends and life from your lips. If you start talking a little to much about someone, you'll see the grin fall from his face.

Protective too. If you're complaining about someone, or if anyone lays a finger on you, he will not hesitate to make their life a living hell. You make him promise not to kill anyone, but what you never know won't hurt you.

He's... well. Creepy. Sorry not really another word for it. He keeps tabs on you and somehow knows where you are at all times. He's a bit of a kleptomaniac and will steal little things every now and then from your home. He shows up in your life at weird and awkward times and just expects you to immediately get beside him. He also loves scaring you a little too much. Like he'll sneak into your house before you get home and hide in your closet or under your bed for hours until you come in and he can scare you.

He also has a lot of pent up mental illness and trauma. That has never been worked through. He's very moody - one minute he's standing on your couch singing Katy Perry, the next he's yelling and on the verge of tears because you "don't love him enough." You'll have to have some thick skin dealing with him because when he's in a mood he has no issues saying what comes to his mind - even if he doesn't mean it AT ALL. Also he has lots of angry rants about his childhood and young adult life. He's never had someone to talk to about it, so you get the full force of his emotional baggage.

But, on his good days, he can be very fun to be around. He's very intelligent and able to carry conversation. Also funny as hell when he wants to be and somehow very very aware of pop culture and internet culture. He has researched enough about being a boyfriend to know how to be a boyfriend, and he makes a solid effort.

Takes a lot of pictures of you. A LOT. Like his camera roll is full of you sleeping, eating, watching tv, laughing, changing like literally for every situation there are a thousand pictures. He even prints out the ones he likes. He has a little scrapbook. I'll leave it up to you if it's cute or weird.

Once you've gotten past emotional barriers, he cries a lot. He's just... a very broken person. He has lots of panic attacks about his shinigami eyes and his life in general. Though, you honestly help him with them. Having you around is very calming to him, and having a person to wipe the tears away is a kindness he never thought he could have.

Same applies for nightmares. Of course, they don't stop just because you come along. But, after waking up in a cold sweat to see the person he loves alive and well holding onto his arm gives him some peace.

Weird with pet names. Like babe is normal, but will also shit like sweet cheeks, shawty or... shmoop? idk just like a whole subcategory of absolute nonsense words. Called you bed bug one time and you were like... wtf gross. Also will refer to you as "the hot piece of ass." One of the cuter things he does is put "my" in front of your name when he's referring to you.

He refuses to share food with you. Like it's so weird. You two have literally fist fought over the last slice of pizza because he refuses to be a gentleman and give it to you. Whatever he is eating it is his and his alone. If he finds out you stole a bite from something he will give you the MOST betrayed expression he can muster as if you just killed his pet cat. He's ridiculous. Though, will never pass up an opportunity to feed you food or vice versa. He loves feeding you, gives him a sense of control.

Very insecure. Please compliment him. His identity issues are through the roof and if someone compliments him for being himself he will absolutely loose it. He's spent a chunk of his life trying to be someone he's not, and he continuously compared to the person he's "supposed" to be. He needs to know that he is his own person and that he is good enough.

Likes to dance with you a lot. Not in public, just around the kitchen or living room. It can be romantic, with you two just swaying back and forth to some old mid-century music, with your head on his chest, or he can be throwing it back on you when Cardi B comes on.

Although today your husband wasn't home, his hot lawyer dropped by for another visit. You would have to be mad to let go of this opportunity.

Wearing your skimpy clothes, and a little coaxing here and there, here you were, with Higuruma between your thighs, suffocating him with your cunt. You felt every lick, every twitch, your body shivering as you stayed still.

His tongue moved since you wouldn't, taking in the sight of you on top of him, head lulling back in ecstasy. He continued to circle your clit, softly torturing your nerves till he could feel your pulse against his tongue.

You were wet. So goddamn wet, you couldn't tell if it was your cum or sweat covering your inner thighs. Your sneaky link had you huffing and puffing with every touch.

"So f-fucking unfair, wish you were my lawyer, would do this every day, Ngh!."

Higuruma hummed, "We can do this every day, sweet girl."

You groaned at those words, eyes rolling back at the image. You, fucking him. Your husband's lawyer. Someone who should be against you. It was all too hot for you to fathom.

You couldn't even hate your husband after this, after all, it was he who brought this gorgeous hunk of meat into your home, you're bound to give him some credit.

His long fingers traced your hips, stroking them ever so slightly before they moved up to your waist.

You found it sweet, that was until his tongue completely flattened over your pussy, groaning desperately. You jolt in place, soon realizing he hadn't done it to touch you; it was to brace you.

His tongue tightened once he felt you move, lifting yourself because you were suddenly overwhelmed.

But fuckkk.

You were horny as hell, so against your better judgment, you put your weight onto him again, his beautiful nose nestled right against your clit.

His nose was fucking perfect, the perfect fucking arch too. You had to force yourself not to get too excited and start grinding against him.

Perhaps Higuruma felt the desperation as he slid his tongue into your sopping cunt. You let out a hoarse moan,

"Nhgh~ Fucking finally baby...oh god!"

He chuckled at your relief, tongue delving deeper and deeper.

You could not even imagine what you were feeling right now. His tongue somehow pressed firmly against your G-spot, applying the most delicious pressure against your nerves.

You couldn't care less if it hurt him anymore, shamelessly rubbing against his nose that was perched perfectly for you to use.

"Ohh~ You wanted this too, didn't you, baby?" You moaned out the question, wanting him to speak into your cunt.

And he does.

"Ever since you walked through that door, pretty. Wearing that sorry excuse of a skirt, barely covering anything."

Although his words were muffled, you heard and felt him perfectly fine.

"I wanted my husband to regret the divorce, but if I had known his lawyer was so hot, I would have worn something even skimpier, fucked you right before the trial."

"Mmmm, keep talking, sweet girl, your voice is fucking sexy..."

"Ngh!~"

That broke you completely, rubbing against him till his tongue reached deeper than your fingers ever could.

Your hand massaged one of your tits as the other clutched his hair.

Suddenly, there was movement around the house. You hadn't even heard the apartment door open, but your husband was certainly home.

You couldn't even react when Higuruma pushed himself up, trapping you under him as his hand covered your mouth.

Your eyes were blown out wide, half from your unclaimed orgasm and half from fear.

Your eyes fell on your room door, relief washing over you once you realized you did indeed lock it, yet it isn't something your husband would notice, so he called out anyway.

Your name rang throughout the apartment, your husband's voice filling the air.

"Are you here??"

He continued, and you notice Higuruma reach for his phone. Quickly typing something, he waited patiently until you heard the front door thud closed.

Higuruma smirked, showing you his phone.

Higuruma: Dropped by your home, no one was there. Meet me at my office. ASAP. Husband: Can't I wait at home? Higuruma: It's urgent. Sebi will take care of you.

Sebi. Higuruma's colleague, whom your husband was smitten with.

Husband: Sure thing, meet you there.

Still smirking at you, he threw his phone to the side, lowered himself to align his face to your cunt again, this time, not breaking the stare.

Giving you a long and slow lick, your back arched off the bed, and your hand pushed him closer.

"Fuckk baby, if I knew it was that easy to get him out of the house, I would have done something sooner."

You mused.

Higuruma chuckled into your pussy, an action that turns you on more than it should.

"Mhh, could've had you sooner, huh?"

You bit you lip at his selective hearing, finding it sort of cute.

His hands spread you wider and wider as his gorgeous tongue continued its ministrations on your pussy. 

You folds stroked and glided against his tongue, the wet muscle moulding inside the hollow of your pussy as it pulses around him.

You reveled in this moment.

You reveled in this pleasure.

God, you fucking loved this lawyer.

a/n: i am obsessed with this man, and yes i am aware he is a criminal defense lawyer but who gives a shit, this concept was hot.

From your perch on the edge of his plate, you could stare up at the harbingers like giants gathered around a levelled mountaintop. It wasn’t the entire council – thank the Archons – but his little tea party had gathered a fair share of formidable guests. Pantalone sat to his right, Arlecchino straight across. And, to his left, Childe – silent and smiling, eyes focused pointedly on you. At least the other two had the decency to pretend you weren’t there. Childe wasn’t so nonchalant.

You did your best to shrug him off, keeping your back towards Dottore and focusing on your humble meal – a miniature strawberry topped with the lightest possible dollop of cream. It was the smallest thing you could find, but you still had to hold it with both hands.

You were all half a bite in when you felt the end of a fork tap your shoulder. You ignored it, only for Dottore to prod you again, this time with enough force to knock you off of your makeshift seat and onto your feet. Rather than wait for the next tap, you grit your teeth, sucked in a deep breath, and chose to accept your fate with dignity. Or, well, as much dignity as you had left, anyway.

You turned towards him, crossing your arms over your chest. He, predictably, was leaning towards you, his chin propped on his fist and his fork still in one hand. His mask hid his eyes, but the wide smile painted across his pale lips made his satisfaction more than clear. You couldn’t pretend to be surprised. Dottore found joy in most things. Your ongoing misery was only one of them.

“What do you want?” you asked, curtly. Arlecchino and Pantalone were starting to discuss the latest courtly fashions of the upcoming season. It wasn’t exactly interesting, but it was better than anything he was bound to say.

“Only to admire my work.” He dropped the fork in favor of moving his index finger in a a vague, circular gesture. “You’ll twirl for us, won’t you? Tartaglia’s been dying to get a better look.”

You hesitated, but there were worse things he could force you to do than twirl. Even if you didn’t like the way Childe’s eyes were burning into you.

You made one slow, paced circle – no losing your balance, no fluttering your skirts, no flouncing at his beck and call like some music box ballerina. He’d commissioned a new wardrobe for you, all tulle-stuffed dresses and ornate harnesses in his colors. Only the finest materials had been used, but there was only so far you could shrink down an article of clothing before it reverted back to the stiff, confining shapes a child might trap their favorite doll in. The fit was loose and boxy, but Dottore seemed to like that. As if it were just another symptom his treatment could inflict on you.

He cooed when you were done, shaking his head in feigned disappointment. “Really, love? That’s all you’re going to give us?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t be stubborn. Give it another try, won’t you?”

“No. You said twirl, and I—”

He didn’t give you a chance to finish. His free hand darted toward you, catching your ankle and lifting you into the air. You kicked and screamed, but there was nothing you could do to stop him from hoisting you five, ten, twenty inches up – practically a death sentence for someone of your current size. The skirt of your dress plumed downward, covering your face and fighting against your efforts to wrestle it back into place. Childe let out a low whistle. Your face burned bright and hot.

That was another thing about your current wardrobe.

Dottore hadn’t seen the point of undergarments.

“Despite the transformation, the body’s remained perfectly proportional,” Dottore explained. With your ankle pinched between his thumb and pointer, he worked his ring fingers in between your legs, parting your clenched thighs. “The internal anatomy and biological functions have remained perfectly intact, too. The specimen still eats, sleeps, and drinks just as it did prior to the operation.”

Childe’s grin widened. “Any other functions I should know about, doc?”

“Not that I can think of.” And yet, the pad of his finger ran over your crotch, applying just enough pressure to make you wince and flinch into yourself. The sensation was blunt and unnatural, like grinding against a very unforgiving pillow. As often as he touched you, you couldn’t seem to get used to it. Your body wasn’t meant to process that type of feeling.

“I conceived the method as a weapon, initially, but my serum is far too complicated for that sort of thing. If you’re only looking for a way to render your enemies helpless, a hammer to the wrists and ankles would be far more efficient.” He ground his fingertip against you. You could feel yourself splitting open to accommodate him, beginning to leak onto his calloused pad. “But there is potential for medicinal use. A patient of this size would only need, say, one one-thousandth of the dosage that you or I require.”

That caught Pantalone’s attention. “Except I was promised something for the war effort, Doctor. Eccentric cure-alls are hardly marketable, these days.”

Penetration wasn’t an option, but this – the shallowness of it – might’ve been worse. He could only rub your clit in the most rudimentary possible way, up and down and up and down and up and down on an infinitely repeating loop. You could feel yourself getting wetter. It was an instinctual type of pleasure – the kind that left your stomach twisting and the blood rushing to your head. That second one might’ve just been from the way he was holding you, actually. You’d been upside down for a while.

“I never said the drug was without its uses on the battlefield.” He was so unbearably smug. That might’ve been what you hated most about Dottore. There was nothing he could do to you that wouldn’t stroke his own ego. “Tartaglia – you’ve been watching my demonstration closely. Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?”

Childe didn’t have to think before he answered. “It’s squirming.”

“Precisely.” You felt Dottore’s free hand wrap around your body, pinning your arms to the side and turning you right-side up. “If you’ll just look here…”

With two fingers, he forcibly parted your legs. Understanding dawned on you immediately. “Zandik, don’t—”

“Quiet now, dear. The adults are speaking.” Your face was red-hot. You could feel the other two staring at you, now, their sharp eyes burning a hole between your legs. Not that Dottore cared. He kept you like that, spread out and on display, as slick leaked down the inside of your thighs and dripped onto the tablecloth. “As you can see, the subject is acutely sensitive to any type of stimulation. That, paired with how easily the subject can be restrained, means your soldiers will have a very effective torture method on their hands, Regrator. Are there any other questions?”

It was amazing just how polite Childe could be when he put his mind to it. He raised his hand, waiting for Dottore’s nod of approval before he spoke. “How does it affect taste?”

“A wonderful area of study.” Again, Dottore made no effort to mask his delight. You began to wonder if it would have been kinder to fall into the hands of a more stoic madman. “Why don’t we find out?”

He opened his mouth wide, tongue lolling out as he lowered you onto it face-down. His lips sealed around your upper chest, leaving the arms and head dangling uselessly above his chin. You beat your fists against him, but if he felt you, it was little more than a mouse clawing at the inside of a snake’s throat as it was swallowed whole. You couldn’t do anything. You weren’t anything. And he was the one who’d made you that way.

You felt him swallow around you, the suction forceful enough to leave you clawing at his face, abruptly terrified of being sucked down. Not that he was going to let this end so quickly. His tongue rolled over your body, thick and wet and hot. Everything was like that – his saliva drenching your clothes, his humid breath sweltering against your skin. Just the feeling of your soaked dress rubbing against your chest was enough to leave you twitching, clenching your thighs together, trying not to betray exactly how you felt.

Predictably, the effort was futile.

“He wasn’t exaggerating the sensitivity,” Pantalone noted, cocking his head to the side. “Can you say something for us, dear? Torture doesn’t mean anything if we can’t understand you.”

You grit your teeth, but Dottore hummed and the vibration was enough to push a hitched, breathy sound past your lips as his contorted into a twisted smile around you. Pantalone nodded slowly, contented. “Loud and clear. Although you’ve been awfully quiet, Knave.”

“I’m sorry I don’t have more of an interest in your pet scientist and his games.” And yet, her starburst eyes were fixed on you unwaveringly. You couldn’t remember the last time she’d blinked. “It’s cruel, really. Just look at the poor thing. One of my daughters collects dollhouses – something like that would surely be a much better fit than that barbarian’s lab.”

“You can’t expect me to believe your children are any kinder to their toys.”

“Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t.” She took a long sip of her tea, never looking away from you. “Should the worst come to pass, I could always use a new desk ornament.”

The heel of Dottore’s tongue arched, grinding against your cunt. It was imprecise and the texture was akin to slimy sandpaper and fuck it all, you were leaking all over him. You could feel the hollows of his cheeks pressing into your sides, squeezing your tiny world that much smaller. You gulped down mouthfuls of fresh air, but it didn’t help. None of it helped. He was still touching you.

And they were still watching.

Pantalone’s gaze was half-lidded, but analytic, as if future market trends were written across your sweat-soaked, blushing face. Arlecchino might’ve been more bearable if it hadn’t been for the sheer intensity of her gaze, the way her fingers twitched every time you failed to swallow down some pitchy, pained noise. Childe was the worst of all, obviously. He couldn’t seem to get close enough. At some point, his mouth had fallen open, drool beginning to pool in the corners of his mouth. It was disgusting. It was objectifying. It was—

You doubled over, bucking your hips against his tongue. You didn’t know how to feel, what to want. You didn’t want to cum like this, in public, with three pairs of unknown eyes on you. But you deserved to get something out of this – a moment of blissful oblivion to make up for months and months of nonstop misery. You wouldn’t survive that level of humiliation. You’d never recover from the disappointment.  You couldn’t. You needed to. You didn’t want this. You weren’t sure if you could keep going if he didn’t give you something to live fo—

Two fingers pinched your collar, lifting you up and out of Dottore’s mouth. You whined, thrashed, but it was already over – the heat cooling, your pulse slowing, any pleasure you might’ve felt immediately overwhelmed by all-encompassing, all-consuming shame. He laid you on the tablecloth, your dress damp and rumpled beyond recognition. “No change at all,” he said to Childe. “Still just as sweet as ever.”

“Very impressive, Doctor.” Pantalone, thankfully, was quick to move on. You could’ve kissed him. Anything to show how thankful you were not to have to think about Dottore’s lovesick drawl for a second longer. “Do I have to ask about an antidote?”

Dottore sighed. “Who has time to think about things like that? If you must know, I plan to start development on a cure in…”

He trailed off, his eyes falling to you. Somehow, his gaze was the coldest and most biting of all.

“Three months? Or nine, if I get sidetracked.”

Your heart dropped. Pantalone clicked his tongue, and the conversation moved on. Even Childe was pulled away, eventually, his interest waning as you continued to lie motionless where you’d been dropped. Only Dottore lingered, smiling down at you and petting his thumb over your hair.

Nine months.

“Do you think Vice Captain Lohen is hiding something?”

This was a question that Ekbert has been tossing around in his mind for the past few weeks. He tried not to dwell on it too much since unnecessary speculation could only lead to unnecessary squabbles. But as he polished the hilt of his sword, he couldn’t help but let his gaze trail after the Vice Captain of the 5th Company as the man descended the stone steps of Favonius Keep.

To anyone else, Lohen was exactly as he had been since they first marched into the farthest reaches of Nod Krai: a cold, deranged fighting machine. His hair was somehow perpetually ruffled, and those dull red eyes always seemed to scan the horizon for something to kill. He looked every bit the sadistic officer who had whipped the recruits into a force capable of surviving the Abyss. Lohen was a man who didn’t do subtlety. If he hated you, he told you. If he wanted to break your spirit during training, he did it with a smile that never reached his eyes. But as Lohen vanished past the perimeter fence for yet another solo patrol, Ekbert felt a prickle of unease.

“Give it a rest, Ekbert,” Winfried sighed, leaning against a supply crate. “The Wild Hunt is gone. Rerir is gone. The Vice Captain is probably just... itching for a fight. You don’t spend years hunting monsters and then just stop because the Honorary Knight finished the job.”

“That’s the thing,” Ekbert hissed before turning to his comrade. “Vice Captain Lohen is always itching for a fight. But have you seen him lately? He’d disappear for hours and you won’t find a speck of blood on his uniform. Since when does the guy come back from a patrol without a scratch or two?”

Winfried just laughed. “He’s probably learned how to use that Cryo Vision to stay clean so he won’t give the knights on laundry duty a heart attack. You’re overthinking it, man. Maybe you should’ve taken that transfer back to Mondstadt.”

Ekbert shook his head. He wasn’t crazy.

All this started after you disappeared.

You hadn’t exactly been with the expeditionary force from the start. You were part of the late reinforcements, summoned personally by Grand Master Varka from the Reconnaissance Corps back home. They needed someone agile, someone who was professionally trained to slip through the shadows and stake out the enemy before the Knights could close in for a siege. While their usual scouts could do this just fine, you operated twice as fast and twice as efficient.

But despite the nature of your work, you were a breath of fresh air in a camp that smelled of old blood and dandelion wine. You’d linked up with the rest of them quite easily, sharing stories from home while the rest of the knights huddled for warmth. But it was your behavior around Lohen that had everyone especially enthralled by your presence.

You had the sheer, unadulterated guts to tease him. You’d prod at the elaborate corset he wore under his coat, asking if it helped his posture while he was busy berating a trainee, or you’d make some cheeky comment about how he’s probably as bloodthirsty as he was because he was compensating for something (read: his height). Everyone expected Lohen to snap. Whether it would be challenging you to a spar or assigning you to the most dangerous vanguard post, the Vice Captain always set straight anyone who dared to cross him.

Instead, Lohen would just stare at you with those eerily blank eyes of his, and tell you to get out of his sight before he found a use for your misplaced confidence. Which was, of course, a shock to anyone and everyone who had the misfortune to train under him.

As the campaign wore on, Lohen’s unusual tolerance for your presence shifted from a camp-wide spectacle to a quiet, functional staple of their operation. While you threaded through the frost as the Reconnaissance Corps’ primary ghost, mapping the Wild Hunt’s movements, Lohen sat hunkered over jagged maps with Anselm and Nannina, translating your intel into lethal strikes.

This seamless synergy didn’t escape the Grand Master’s notice. Despite Lohen’s abrasive personality and your penchant for poking the bear, the expeditionary force had transformed into a singular, razor-sharp weapon. Varka watched on with boisterous approval, less concerned with the strange social friction between the two of you and more impressed by how his subordinates had become the very axis upon which the campaign’s success turned.

In fact, you two were so in-sync, Ekbert and the others were quite certain you’d be absorbed into the Fifth Company in no time.

Until you went missing, that is.

“Ekbert!”

The sharp bark of Winfried’s voice snapped the thread of Ekbert’s thoughts. He blinked, the phantom image of your teasing smile fading as he was shoved back into the reality of the Favonius Keep courtyard.

“Get your head out of the clouds and grab a corner of this crate!” his fellow knight pleaded with a grunt. “This shipment isn’t as massive as our usual, but it’s still rotten work.”

As Ekbert got ahold of his senses, he spotted several wooden crates branded with the seals of the Dawn Winery and Good Hunter being hoisted off a nearby carriage. The scent of aged oak and fermented grapes cut through the biting chill of the Nod Krai air—a cruel reminder of the home they were still waiting to return to.

“Sorry,” Ekbert muttered, lunging forward to catch the rough wood before it could slip from Winfried’s grip. He grunted under the weight, his muscles straining as they maneuvered the shipment toward the supply tent.

“Speculating about the Captain won’t get these rations into the racks,” Winfried huffed as his face reddened from the exertion. “And it certainly won’t bring the Recon scout back. The Grand Master already had the entirety of Nod Krai combed twice. If he says the trail went cold, it’s cold. Got it?”

Ekbert didn’t argue.

He forced himself to focus on the rhythmic thud of boots on stone and the mundane logistics of post-war occupation. He hoisted barrels of flour, counted bundles of medicinal herbs, and tried to ignore the nagging itch in the back of his mind. He told himself that Winfried was right—maybe the stress of the campaign did make him paranoid. Lohen was likely just relishing the silence of a land without monsters, and your disappearance was just another tragic casualty of a war that had claimed too many.

Yet, as Ekbert hauled the last crate of bandages toward the medical tent around midnight, he couldn’t help but notice that the supply log was already short three rolls.

And the Vice Captain had yet to return from his patrol.

That monster wrapped your bandages too tight again.

Every pulse of your blood felt like a dull hammer striking against the sensitive, raw skin where he’d nicked you on purpose, a constant reminder of the metal that bit into you whenever he wasn’t “caring” for you. You were slumped against the foot of a rotted wooden bedframe, your ankles secured by heavy, rusted iron shackles to a thick support beam that felt as immovable as the frost-laden earth of Snezhnaya itself.

Through the cracks in the cabin’s walls, the distant roar of the sea drifted in, the violent crashing of waves against a jagged shore. It most likely placed you somewhere near the Lightkeeper stronghold in Piramida, though the geography of your prison mattered little when your own mind was a fractured mess.

The lingering haze of whatever concoction Lohen had forced down your throat always made the world tilt sideways. It was a chemical leash designed to strip away your Fatui training, leaving you pliant, babbling, and sickeningly open to his whims. You felt a wave of nausea, not just from the drug, but from the crushing weight of your own humiliation.

You had played them all for fools—or so you thought. Your successful infiltration of the Knights of Favonius made you arrogant. You thought they were soft, a collection of self-righteous idealists blinded by their own sense of justice. People like them would never brand a comrade who’d assimilated so seamlessly into their ranks as a traitor.

But Lohen was not like them.

He was the rot in the woodwork, a cold-blooded outlier in an organization of posturing heroes. You suspected the only reason the Knights of Favonius tolerated a battle-crazed lunatic like Lohen was because someone had to be cruel enough to handle the grisly work their ranks were too noble to touch. To them, he was a necessary evil; to you, he was a waking nightmare. He hadn’t just caught a spy. He had claimed a new toy to break in the isolated dark of the aftermath.

The Vice Captain was a connoisseur of weapons, and he took a delight in showing you exactly why the 5th Company was known for the full range of its arsenal. He’d start by using the cold, heavy shaft of his polearm to pin your shoulders against the rotted wood, the weight of the weapon making it hard to draw a full breath as he loomed over you. With you trapped under the length of the pole, he would draw one of his daggers, the blade gleaming with a dull, predatory light that matched his eyes.

He treated your skin like parchment for his incident reports, dragging the tip in slow, agonizingly steady lines across your collarbone and thighs—not deep enough to reach a vein, but certainly enough to ensure you wouldn’t forget the sensation for days. He would narrate the process in that detached, airy voice, debating whether a Snezhnayan spy’s blood ran colder than a Knight’s as it pooled in the hollows of your skin.

“Does it hurt?” he cooed at you once, his tone dripping with mockery. “Or is the drug finally making you forget which side of the border you were born on?”

Once Lohen had mapped your body in fresh, stinging nicks and left you shivering from the combined chill of his Cryo Vision and your own terror, the caretaking would begin. He would transition seamlessly from butcher to medic, his expression softening into something terrifyingly domestic. He would sit on the edge of the rotting bed, humming a low, tuneless Mondstadtian lullaby while he dabbed antiseptic onto the very wounds he had just opened.

He’d whisper about the tragedy of your disappearance, telling you how much the other knights missed you and how Winfried had toasted to your memory—all while tightening a tourniquet or wrapping a bandage just enough to make your nerves go numb. By the time he was finished, your mind was so fractured by the drugs and the pain that you found yourself leaning into his touch, seeking warmth from the same hand that still held the blood-stained blade.

He had swiped your dignity from under your nose, leaving you with the sickening realization that he was now the only world you had left.

Yet he always acted as if you still had a choice in the matter.

The passage of time in this cabin was a jagged, broken thing. Between the constant fog of the drugs and Lohen’s masterful psychological pacing, the interval between his visits felt like a blurred eternity or a heartbeat’s flash. You weren’t sure if it had been days or simply minutes since he last wiped the blood from your skin, yet here he was again, the heavy click of his boots signaling the end of your reprieve.

He set down a lantern—one he had clearly nabbed from a Lightkeeper. There was never a schedule to his cruelty; he might arrive when the sun was at its zenith, or ensure your muffled cries were swallowed by the dead of night. Today, the way he adjusted the silver wing-shaped crest on his chest suggested he intended to take his time.

“You look pale, little bird,” he murmured, crouching before you. He began to forcefully spoon a lukewarm broth into your mouth. You knew the taste. He had spiked it again with that same hallucinogen that turned your thoughts into sluggish, melting wax.

“Eat. I can’t have you fading away before we’ve had our talk.”

Lohen tilted your head back, his gloved fingers digging into the hinges of your jaw to ensure you swallowed every drop of the laced meal. He wanted you receptive, vulnerable, and utterly untethered from your own mind. In your hapless state, all you could do was submit to his whims, gulping down the sustenance that served as your leash until the bowl was emptier than your mind.

“Now, tell me,” the Vice Captain whispered, his dull red eyes searching yours for a flicker of clarity. “Are you in the mood to finally fess up today? Or do I need to remind you that the Tsaritsa cannot hear you when you’re so far away from home? I’m not as cruel as you think, you know. I told you time and time again that you need only tell me your orders and I’ll let you go.”

Despite the warmth of the broth and the deceptive softness of his voice, you fought the urge to spill everything. Your loyalty to Snezhnaya was the only thing the drug couldn’t quite dissolve, even as your humanity was being stripped bare. You clamped your teeth shut, a glare of defiance cutting through the haze, but Lohen only sighed with a terrifyingly patient smile.

“Still playing the martyr, huh? How tedious.” He set the bowl aside and reached for the polearm leaning against the wall, the metal tip catching the lantern light. “If you won’t give me your mind, I suppose I’ll just have to settle for the rest of you.”

The heavy hilt scraped against the uneven floorboards as Lohen lifted it with casual ease, the long shaft gleaming faintly in the lantern’s sickly light. He never rushed when he had you like this—trapped, drugged, and deliciously defiant. The metal tip hovered near your collarbone for a moment, tracing the air just above the half-healed lines he’d left days ago, before he angled it higher.

“Hold still, little bird,” he murmured. “Wouldn’t want to slip.”

The cold edge of the polearm’s blade kissed the side of your neck, just below the jaw. Not the flat of the weapon this time. The sharp tip. It pressed in with surgical precision, breaking skin in one clean, shallow nick. A thin line of crimson welled up immediately, warm against the perpetual chill of the cabin.

Lohen’s dull red eyes tracked the bead as it slid downward, following the curve of your throat.

“Did you know,” he began conversationally, “the human body is a masterpiece of fragile plumbing? You’ve got all these little rivers of arteries and veins and capillaries under the skin. One wrong cut and it’s over in seconds. The carotid here,” the blade shifted ever so slightly, pressing just beside the fresh nick, “branches into the external and internal. Slice it clean and you’ll bleed out before you can even scream properly. Then there’s the jugular. That one’s less dramatic, but just as effective if you want someone to suffer a bit first.”

He tilted his head, studying you like a specimen on a dissection table.

“I apprenticed under an old doctor once. Not because I had any interest in saving lives, mind you. Quite the opposite. I wanted to learn the fastest ways to end them. Turns out medicine and murder share the same textbooks.” Lohen took a moment to simper. “Funny, isn’t it?”

Another tiny flick of the polearm. Another shallow cut, parallel to the first. More blood trickled down, warm and sticky, soaking into the collar of the thin shirt he’d dressed you in after the last session.

You bit back a gasp, body tensing against the shackles. The sting was sharp, immediate, but the drug made it bloom into something that sank low in your belly despite the hatred burning in your chest.

Lohen set the polearm aside with a soft clatter and crouched closer, boots creaking on the warped wood. His gloved hand came up to brush his fingers along the fresh wounds almost tenderly. Then he leaned in, tongue dragging slowly along the trail of blood on your neck. The wet heat of it made you shiver violently, an involuntary full-body tremor that had nothing to do with the cold.

A satisfied hum vibrated against your skin as he licked again, tasting the copper-salt of you.

“See?” he whispered, breath ghosting over the cuts. “Your body already knows what your mind refuses to admit. It craves this the pain. The way I put you back together after I break you open.”

You hated it. You hated how your pulse raced, how slick was already traitorously gathering between your thighs, soaking into the fabric of the skirt he’d brought last time. Your training screamed at you to fight and spit defiance, but Lohen had spent weeks rewiring you. Every cut and bruise, every humiliating moment of care afterward had conditioned your nerves to associate his cruelty with the only relief you ever received.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, those empty red eyes gleaming with dark amusement.

“Interrogation was never really my strong suit, you know,” he continued casually as he reached down. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of the skirt, pushing the fabric up your thighs. “Too much talking. Too much waiting for answers that might never come. I prefer a more… proactive approach.”

His hand found your clothed cunt, palm pressing firmly against the growing dampness. He rubbed slow circles, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit through the thin underwear while two fingers teased along your slit, feeling exactly how wet you’d become. A soft, mocking chuckle escaped him when you couldn’t suppress the small hitch in your breath.

“Look at that. Seems like this little Snezhnayan spy is fucked up enough on her own.”

He kept talking, voice steady and taunting even as he massaged your throbbing pussy with practiced ease, fingers pressing harder, coaxing more slick to ruin the fabric.

“Routine suits us, doesn’t it?” The monster laughs. “I taunt you. I defile every last inch of that proud body until you’re crying. Then I patch you up, feed you, hold you until the drugs pull you under. And the next time I walk through that door… we start the whole thing all over again because you’re just too stubborn to save yourself from all of this.”

Gods damn him.

Your mind was a storm of conflict. You knew how to escape. The lock on the shackles was laughably flimsy. One calculated twist of your wrist, a bit of wire you’d hidden in the hem of the skirt during his last session, and you could be free. Slip out into the night, disappear into the wilds of Nod Krai before he returned. But as Lohen’s fingers continued their relentless, teasing massage—pressing, circling, occasionally dipping just under the edge of your underwear to feel the bare heat of you—your eyes met his. Those dull red eyes. Cold and predatory. Utterly in control.

You didn’t want to be anywhere else.

Not when the pain he gave you made the pleasure burn brighter. Not when his twisted version of care was the only warmth left in your fractured world. Not when the monster wearing the Favonius crest had somehow become the center of everything.

Lohen’s smile widened, slow and knowing, as if he could read every traitorous thought flickering behind your hazy gaze.

“Good girl,” he purred, pressing a little harder against your clit, watching your hips twitch despite yourself. “Keep looking at me like that and I might just forget about the questions for tonight. We have all the time in the world… now that you’re exactly where you belong.”

Lohen didn’t move to strip you. There was something more degrading about the way he kept you partially dressed—the soft skirt bunched up around your waist a mocking contrast to the heavy iron biting into your ankles. He kept his overcoat on, the silver wing-shaped crest on his chest pressing against your shoulder as he crowded into your space, a constant reminder of the rank he held while he systematically dismantled yours.

He didn’t bother offering you the dignity of the bed either. You remained on the cold, grit-covered floorboards. He liked it better this way—forcing you to endure his touch in the dust, proving you didn’t even deserve the luxury of being degraded on a mattress.

He used his free hand to snare both your wrists, wrenching them upward and pinning them against the rotted support beam. The movement was sharp and unforgiving, pulling your arms so taut that the fresh nicks on your neck flared with red-hot agony as the skin stretched. You could only let out a fractured mewl, your breath hitching in your throat before you could even draw air. With a flick of his wrist, Lohen hooked two fingers into the elastic of your underwear and yanked it aside, exposing your dripping heat to the biting chill of the cabin for only a heartbeat before his fingers slip inside you with delicious friction from his gloves.

The rough leather dragged against your inner walls as two thick digits pushed deeper, stretching you open without mercy or preamble. Lohen didn’t ease you into it—he never did. He curled them immediately, pressing hard against that spongy spot inside you that made your vision spark white even through the haze. A broken sound tore from your throat. Your hips jerked involuntarily, trying to chase the sudden fullness, but the shackles on your ankles kept your legs splayed and helpless. The cold floorboards bit into your bare ass where the skirt had bunched uselessly around your waist.

“Shh,” Lohen cooed, soft and mocking as he pumped his fingers in a slow, deliberate rhythm. “Listen to you. Already making such pretty noises for a traitor. Does it feel good, little bird? Having a Knight of Favonius knuckle-deep in this greedy cunt?”

He scissored his fingers, stretching you wider, the wet, obscene sounds of your slick echoing in the quiet cabin. He knew exactly where to press, exactly how deep to go to make your thighs tremble and your breath stutter.

Your head lolled back against the rotted beam, fresh blood from the nicks on your neck trickling warmer down your skin. The pain and pleasure twisted together until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. Every time his fingers dragged over that sensitive bundle of nerves inside you, another gush of slick coated his hand, dripping down to smear across your thighs and the dusty floor. Lohen leaned in closer, his ruffled hair brushing your cheek.

“Look at how wet you are,” he whispered, adding a third finger without warning. The burn of the stretch pulled a sharp cry from you. “Crying for mercy with your mouth, but this sloppy little hole is begging for more. You hate me, don’t you? You hate how much you need this. How much your body has learned to crave the monster who keeps you chained up like a dog.”

He twisted his wrist, curling all three fingers viciously, thumb coming up to grind rough circles over your swollen clit. The dual assault made your back arch violently, a wrecked sob spilling from your lips as stars burst behind your eyelids.

“Please—ah, fuck… Lohen—”

The name slipped out before you could stop it. His dull red eyes flashed with dark delight.

“Oh? Using my name now?” He laughed, low and cruel, speeding up the brutal pace of his fingers. Wet squelching filled the cabin, louder than the distant roar of the sea. “How sweet. Beg for it properly then. Tell me what you want, spy. Tell your captor how badly you need to cum on the fingers that just carved your neck open.”

You shook your head, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, but your hips rolled desperately against his hand, chasing every thrust like a high you desperately wanted to keep. The drug made everything feel liquid and overwhelming—every stroke and press, every filthy word sinking straight into your core and melting your resistance into nothing.

Lohen’s free hand left your wrists only long enough to grab your jaw, forcing your head up so you had to meet his empty, predatory gaze.

“Don’t look away,” he ordered, voice dropping into that dangerous, silky tone. “I want to watch your face when you break. I want to see the exact moment the proud Fatui agent realizes she’s nothing but a desperate whore for Mondstadt’s favorite butcher.”

His fingers fucked into you harder, faster, the heel of his palm slapping wetly against your clit with every brutal plunge. Pleasure coiled tight and vicious in your belly, building so quickly it terrified you. Your walls clenched greedily around him, sucking his fingers deeper as if your body had already surrendered even if your mind still screamed traitor.

“P-please, Lohen... Too much. I can’t... ah, I’m gonna—”

“That’s it. Cry for me,” he growled. “You could’ve escaped days ago, but here you are, dripping all over my hand like the pathetic little toy you were always meant to be.”

As you teetered on the knife’s edge of release, Lohen’s Cryo Vision flared. A sudden, biting frost blossomed from his palm, turning the heat of your friction into a searing, sub-zero burn. The metal guards on his wrists grew lethally cold, pressing against your inner thighs until the skin stung with the sensation of dry ice. The contrast was a violent assault; the core of you was a fevered, pulsing furnace, while his touch had become a frozen blade, carving through your sensory static.

He didn’t just let the cold sit. He pulsed it—letting the frostbite-chill numb your clit for a terrifying second before withdrawing the power, allowing the blood to rush back in a stinging, hypersensitive flood. You sobbed at the whiplash, your hips bucking helplessly against the floorboards as he forced your body to navigate a landscape of fire and ice.

He sent one final, concentrated surge of Cryo through his gloved fingers as they buried themselves deep inside you. The internal freeze acted like a detonator, and the pressure snapped instantly.

Your orgasm hit like a lightning strike to a fraying wire. Your whole body seized, thighs racking with uncontrollable tremors as you came hard around his fingers, your slick gushing out to soak his glove and the grimy floorboards beneath you. A strangled scream tore from your throat, raw and humiliating, echoing off the cabin walls while your vision fractured into a blinding, white-hot void.

Lohen didn’t offer you the mercy of a reprieve. He drew out every last agonizing spasm, forcing your exhausted muscles to contract again and again until the pleasure became an unbearable noise. You were left twitching beneath him, your nerves raw and exposed, sobbing openly as the last of your resistance was washed away by the sheer, brutal weight of his persistence.

“Good girl,” he purred, finally slowing but not to offer you mercy.

With a slow, deliberate suction, he withdrew his fingers from your fluttering heat. You felt a cold, hollow ache the moment he left you, but he didn’t give you time to mourn the loss. He grabbed your chin, tilting your head back until you were forced to look at his stained leather glove, glistening under the lantern’s sickly glow.

“Such a messy, broken thing,” he whispered, the dull red of his eyes fixated on your trembling lips. “And you still haven’t told me what I want to know. I’ll need to praise whoever trained you, really. But for now, don’t let a drop go to waste.”

He shoved his fingers into your mouth, the taste of leather and the sharp, salty tang of your own release hitting your tongue all at once. The drug-induced haze in your mind combined with the crushing need to please him stripped away the last of your hesitation. You didn’t pull back. Instead, you made a pathetic, broken noise and began to enthusiastically lap at his fingers, your tongue swirling around the gloved digits to catch every bit of your own ruin. You tasted yourself, flavored by the copper of your fresh wounds, and for a terrifying second, it was the best thing you had ever had.

You were a map of shallow, stinging nicks lying beneath him. The fresh cuts on your neck had only just begun to clot, the tacky copper of your own blood smearing against his hand and your collar right after he pulled his fingers from your lips. You looked down at your shackled ankles and your ravaged skin, and the horror that should have consumed you was replaced by a hollow, sickening sort of peace. The Tsaritsa, Snezhnaya, your mission—they were all becoming distant, meaningless ghosts compared to the heavy, solid weight of the man pinning you to the floor.

Lohen grinned maniacally. “But that’s alright. We have all night. I’ll fuck every last secret out of you eventually…” He leaned in, licking another slow stripe over the slowly healing cuts on your neck, tasting blood and sweat and surrender. “Or maybe I’ll just keep you like this forever. My perfect, dripping captive who doesn’t even want to leave anymore.”

His red eyes bored into yours, pressing his fingers on the flat of your lolling tongue once more.

“After all… you’re right where you belong now, aren’t you, little bird?”

The night air in Piramida was thick with salt and the biting chill of the ocean, but the sweat on Ekbert’s palms had nothing to do with the humidity. For hours, he had trailed the Vice Captain through the terrain, moving like a ghost through the pines until the silhouette of a dilapidated cabin appeared against the moonlit cliffs.

He watched from the tall grass as Lohen disappeared inside, the heavy door thudding shut with a finality that made Ekbert’s stomach churn. He waited. One hour passed, then two. The sounds of the crashing waves below were occasionally punctuated by muffled, rhythmic thuds and high-pitched, unintelligible cries that the wind quickly snatched away. Ekbert contemplated retreating—turning back to the safety of Favonius Keep and pretending he had never followed his superior.

But the gnawing suspicion continued to burn in his mind. With a pounding heart and a sense of dread he couldn’t quite stomp down, he stepped onto the porch. The wood groaned under his weight. He took a breath, steeling himself, and knocked.

The silence that followed was deafening. But then, the slow click-clack of metal-soled boots approached the door. It creaked open only a few centimeters. Lohen stood there with his mint-green hair disheveled and his coat draped loosely over one shoulder. His dull red eyes narrowed, eyeing the shivering recruit with a terrifying, vacant calm that made Ekbert’s knees weak. Despite being the taller man, Ekbert felt small, like a mouse that had accidentally wandered into a viper’s nest.

“V-Vice Captain,” Ekbert stammered. “I... We were worried you hadn’t checked in with your patrols.”

Lohen stared at him for a long beat, a predatory smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Worried? About me? Well that’s a first. Consider me touched, Ekbert.”

Without another word, Lohen kicked the door wide, the lantern light from inside spilling out to illuminate the nightmare within. Ekbert’s breath hitched, his gorge rising as his brain struggled to process the figure chained to the bedframe.

It was you.

The Recon scout. The one they’d combed the entire region for. But you were practically unrecognizable like this—stripped bare, your body a roadmap of silver scars and fresh, weeping nicks that hinted at a violent history. A thick roll of gauze was wrapped tight around your neck, stained at the edges with the copper of your surrender.

But it was the sound you made that truly broke Ekbert’s spirit.

“L-Lohen... where’d you go?” you slurred, your head lolling back as you looked past the doorway with pupils blown wide and glassy. You didn’t even seem to see Ekbert; your entire world had narrowed down to the monster in the indigo coat. “Don’t stop... please... come back and make me feel good again. I’ll be good, I promise...”

Ekbert stepped back, his hand trembling as it went to the hilt of his sword. “Vice Captain... what have you done to her?”

Lohen didn’t look at you; he kept his gaze on the horrified knight, a perverse sort of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Just doing my job; wringing intel from a Snezhnayan spy. She’s been quite stubborn about her secrets, but I’m nothing if not patient. Only took a few weeks for her to finally give a detailed account of the Tsaritsa’s plans moving forward. Though, I feel like there’s still more to uncover.”

Not letting Ekbert stew in the shock of finding out one of their comrades was actually Fatui scum, Lohen reached into his belt and pulled out one of his gleaming daggers.

“You’re just in time actually. She’s finally starting to learn her place,” Lohen purred, his voice dropping into a silky, inviting tone. He stepped aside, inviting the younger knight into the room filled with the scent of blood and sex.

Then, he held out the weapon hilt-first to Ekbert.

“Care to join us?”

✦ afterword. rip to ekbert, the unsuspecting npc i picked out of favonius keep to also indirectly torture in this fic. you are a brave soldier, you! if you made it this far, congratulations. you deserve a round of dandelion wine on the house. will i pull for lohen when he comes out? probably not, but he is very amusing to write for, seeing as he's like childe without adderall LOL please be kind to me, this is the first time i've written smth like this BSHDBSHGBDF t_t

Lohen holds you at a gunpoint, circling you with the hole of the pistol firmly pressed against your forehead.

“Hmm…” He hums playfully. “Weapon check!~” He whispers, biting your earlobe playfully.

“Hands up.” Lohen sternly orders, his eyes narrowed down to you, the pistol on your head pulled away, but his finger remained on the trigger.

The demand on his voice barely laced by kindness was quite a surprise, after taking his commission posted on the adventurer's guild, you wonder why nobody ever took it. The post was two weeks old after all.

[Inspection Practice by Vice Captain Lohen of the Knights of Favonius’ Fifth Company, Reward: 100,000 Mora]

With much time in your hands, you decided to humor such a simple commission.

Which leaves you in your predicament. The other Knights of Favonius members gave you weapons to hide all over your body, it didn’t matter if it was on your clothes or at the hem of your pants, and apparently, Lohen will practice inspection with those weapons hidden all over you.

The knights only promise you a “He knows it’s practice, so don’t be too alarmed yeah?” Then off they sent you to the headquarter’s basement, with a small lightbulb being your only source of light.Yeah, like that would make everything less eerie.

After he demanded you to lift your hands, Lohen’s touch snaked up your neck, the leather of his gloves directly touching your skin causing a small tingle of friction between you two.  “Neck, huh?” He sultrily breathes on the shell of your ear. “A tiny place, weapons are sooooo easy to spot here.”

Lohen pulled away, a cheeky grin plastered all over his face. “Unfortunately, you’re not pretty sneaky with this, hm?” He dangles a tiny blade necklace in front of your face. You expected it anyway, the silver of the beads of that weapon did twinkle obviously inside such a dark basement.

“Arms.” He didn’t waste time as his hands moved to your shoulders, slowly feeling it with his hands, then sliding smoothly to your bare shoulders in the blink of an eye. “Hmm hmm..” He moves behind you, tickling your nape with his breath.

“Your arms are bare, huh?” Lohen whispers, his fingers moving to the underside of your arms, feeling it back and forth. “No weapons here.” He scoffs playfully, his hands leaving both of your shoulders. “But your fingers said otherwise.”

You didn’t even notice the sudden weight on your hands, Lohen swiftly snatches the iron knuckle on your left hand and swings his index on one of the holes, playing with the weapon in front of you. “I told the other knights to challenge me. Where’s the fun in this?” He playfully coos, leaning close to your face; his eyes barely bear any light yet his pupils seem to enlarge at the sight of your anxious gaze.

“You’re pretty cute.” Lohen grins, immediately moving back to scan you from head to toe.

“Let’s move on to your torso, shall we?” He adjusted his leather gloves and stepped close. “Ah, you don’t mind if I feel you here, right?”Lohen’s hands gently held close to your upper torso, his thumbs slowly rubbing on your sides. He leans close to your ear once more and whispers “It’s part of the inspection after all.”

His tone was convincing enough, it is inspection after all. Strangely, your initial anxiety seemed to be melted away by whatever that fluttery feeling pooling in your coil.

“Excited?” Lohen calls you out.

Ah that’s right, with his hands finished on feeling your sides and back, Lohen smoothly crept his hands to your lower abdomen. “Hmm… Something is bulgy here…” He snickers, “And it seems to be inside.”

He lowers his fingers, holding to the hem of your shirt. “May I?” 

You didn’t hesitate a nod, it’s inspection… How else will he retrieve the weapon, after all?

“Good.” Lohen lets out a subtle growl “Don’t mind if I do.” His hands going under your shirt.

Lohen’s gaze intently locked on to yours. Fingers wrapped in leather gloves touched your bare abdomen, pressing quite firmly on different places until finally. “Bingo.” 

He quickly takes out a thin dagger. “Who would’ve thought!” Lohen laughs, throwing the retrieved dagger in the air several times. “Nice hiding place. I must say, I’m surprised.” 

“Sneaky, but not sneaky enough.” He smirks, his hands now held behind you, fumbling with the waist band of your pants and taking out an appendix knife. “This one’s quite mediocre though…” He huffed teasingly, face laced with mock disappointment.

“Did the knights tell you to hide it behind you?” He snorts. “Relay a message to them from me after this, ‘kay?” He gave you a cheeky grin. “Tell them that I said to practice hiding weapons better.”

He gently pats your behind with a tiny manic giggle. “Now… you have one weapon left, I suppose?” 

Lohen stands up straight and circles you just like before, looking all over you. A few seconds passed as you heard the small screech of wood being dragged. Turning back, the wooden chair greets your eye. 

“I have a suspicion on where that last item may be…” He hums

“Sit.”

Without another word, you sat at the chair obediently, all traces of fear and nervousness now gone, replaced by lingering excitement on what Lohen may have in store.

“You’re cute AND obedient.” Lohen chuckles softly, settling in front of you, his gaze down at you.

He flashes another smile, unexpectedly, he slowly pulls his leather gloves off. His slender fingers are on display. “I gotta be veeeery thorough with this one.”

To add to the excitement coiling on you, Lohen knelt down and moved closer to you, holding both of your legs as he palms your pants. 

“Oh my… There seems to be a lump down here.” Lohen snakes his bare hands to your inner thighs. “And how should I remove this, hm?”

You emit a shaky gulp, your body shaking slightly. Not from fear, but excitement. Excitement of what he could possibly do… 

“To retrieve something, there needs to be a clear view.” Lohen leaned his head to your thighs, resting his chin in between them and looking up at you. “Your face screams yes…”“It can’t be helped…” He sighs teasingly, his cold hands finding its way back to the waistband of your pants, eyes not breaking contact with yours; not even for a second.

Slowly… Gently… He pulls your pants down, his cold fingers brushing against your bare thighs. To add to the sensation, Lohen blows softly on your thighs with every skin getting more and more exposed.

The embarrassment rules over your face, cheeks flushed red, your breath hitched with every teasing gesture he shows. This guy is absolutely manic, and he seems to enjoy riling you up with even the slightest touch.

“Sensitive?” Lohen cheekily asks, your pants all the way down now. The sight made him absolutely delighted.

“Found it.”

You squeaked in surprise as Lohen spread your legs apart, followed by a satisfied whistle. “So this is where you hid the last one, hm?”  

Looking close at him despite the heat you’re feeling all over your body, his pupils seem to look much more dilated than earlier, his gaze at your thighs intensely satisfied and elated.

Carefully, he grabbed the pistol strapped on to your left inner thigh. “Found the last one.” Lohen smirks, his thumbs tenderly rubbing your thighs with a satisfactory hum.

“Good work.” To end things off, he licks a long stripe on your right thigh,, his hand firmly placed on your knees, just in case you might close them and squeeze his head shut… But judging from the way he seems to be enjoying himself, he wouldn’t mind suffocating between your thighs.

His saliva glistened on your thigh as he pulled away, contented at the sight of your flustered face, disheveled and turned on.

“I like the face you’re making right now.” He gets up, carefully pulling your pants back up and buttoning them in place.

“Good job, you may leave.”

After everything that unravelled, the redness in your face seemed to die down. Fortunately, Lohen seemed to soften a bit, calming you down and helping you get up the stairs. “Careful now…”He smiles kindly while sending you off. “No worries, cutie. I’ll mark the commission as a success. Come back tomorrow to get your reward mora!” He happily waves as you disappear from his sight.

“Finally.” Lohen groans, knelt on the floor while his hand palms the wooden chair you were sitting on just a few minutes ago.

“She took the commission.” He sighs dreamily.

Four whole months of constantly posting the same commission, just so that you can finally accept it. 

The first commission posted only took one day for someone to accept; an inspection practice as per instructed. Lohen resorted to violent and cruel tactics to scare the first adventurer who accepted his commission, making a small cut on the cheek, and overall creeping the adventurer out. Eventually after practice, the adventurer took his mora and sprinted off in fear..

Like a domino effect, the second commission was posted, the same practice, the same reward, but this one took three days before an adventurer took it, this one more insane than before, pulling the trigger of an empty pistol, prank stabbing on the neck, the adventurer didn’t even finish the practice, running off while crying.

The next commissions were posted, the intervals of acceptance growing longer and longer, the message of the Vice Captain of the Knights of Favonius' Fifth Company resulting in violent tactics and threats during practice quietly spread amongst the adventurers who took it.

It was until the eight time he posted the commission, that the knights informed him that it was you who took it.

Finally… Finally…

Months of waiting for you almost made him insane, when he can only watch you from afar, conversing with other adventurers. Watching your every step, how adorable you look when you eat. And how oblivious you look when he sneaks through your windows at night when you’re fast asleep.

That could’ve been me. He would grit behind in envy.

Lohen can be quite the tactician, playing the long game just to finally snag you from those rowdy adventurers.

The trap he laid down patiently finally bearing fruit when he saw you descend to the basement…

Oh Lohen barely contained himself, your face, your body, your reactions. But he masked it, under strange fascination when deep inside, he wanted nothing more than to worship your body, take your clothes off and kiss you everywhere. Oh the thought was enough to make him drool…

But in the end, Lohen couldn’t exactly contain himself, he kept on reminding himself that he’ll only tease and make you embarrassed.

But the face you gave him earlier, a face of bashful arousal. Lohen forgot his initial reminder, and without a thought spread your legs apart. Now that he’s reflecting on it, the action was pretty obscene, but your face…

He can still remember how you gasped and squeaked at his bold move, taking the hidden pistol while his fingers touched your inner thighs, oh Lohen thought he was in heaven…

The lick afterwards was something he planned though, teasing you enough to squirm and maybe crush his head between your thighs but unfortunately didn’t happen.

Lohen can still feel the sensation of your skin on his tongue, oh how he adored how smooth and milky delicious your thighs were to his tastebuds. And maybe… Just maybe if he had moved closer, he could’ve licked you deeper.

Still, decency ruled over him, he’ll play the long game, willing to mask off the ravenous hunger he’s had for you. As much as he wants to claw his way to you, kiss you relentlessly and worship your whole being. Your aroused face says it all.

It won’t be long until you start seeking and obsessing him too, and when that day comes, he’ll devour and worship you immensely.

notes: happy lohen release day! the demo trailer awakened something in me and thus i made this short fic, i was initially planning something more freaky but this will do, i wanted it to be more freaky than just downright violent after all.

"Especially when I'm fingering you~"

His remark made you chuckle and look back at him from your shoulder, to meet a gorgeous, proud smirk, sitting so perfectly on his face.

"Of course, especially when you're doing that"

You were waiting for him to say another dirty thing so that maybe he could earn a tiny bit of blush from your face, but a tiny bit turned into a dozen when his hand slowly went down on your entrance, leaving your hips untouched. Your breath got hitched in your throat as his fingers started teasing your entrance, coming up and down on your slit to make you shiver slightly and close your thighs around his hand. That didn't stop him from going further though; now it was his fingertips poking your hole, remaining close to your clit but not making sensible contact with it to make you go wild.

"Mello..." Your shaky voice and the hints of frustration hidden in it made him raise his head to look at your figure from behind, admiring how your hair was scattered freely on your back.

"What? You're not in the mood?"

"No, it's just that... I don't think I can move around so much... I'm worn out from all the hard work I did earlier..."

He nearly frowned when he thought that he needed to let this chance slip from his hands; but suddenly, an idea popped into his mind that made him beam hugely, thinking about the compelling outcome.

"What if you don't have to move around at all?"

His interesting comment made you sit up and look at him curiously. He didn't seem to be messing with you, even though his playful grin hadn't left his face.

"What do you mean? How are we supposed to have sex when I'm not doing anything?"

"Well there's no need for you to do anything! You just have to remain still, that's all"

Your widened eyes showed that you were kinda getting it, but he couldn't miss the opportunity to witness your stunned expression when you hear about his tempting offer from his own mouth.

"Are you... Are you trying to say that..."

"Sit on my face. That's what I'm trying to say"

Your heart slammed itself hard to your thorax.

"I'm not sure about this. We've never done this before"

"Which is exactly why we should give it a try"

Mello's abs looked even hotter when he was lying down on the bed. And you? Looking insecure, unsure, and nervous, sitting beside him; you weren't really matching each other at that moment.

When he saw that you were still caught up in your thoughts, he sighed and took your hand to pull you near him gently. You didn't resist him, but you still weren't certain if this was a good idea. It was literally written all over your face, with how you were sulking and looking at your boyfriend's gorgeous face, imagining how it was going to get crushed by your thighs.

"C'mon girly, what are you waiting for? It's going to be amazing"

Yeah, you didn't have any doubts on that one. Of course it was going to be amazing. It was Mello and his damn tongue, for fuck's sake.

"I don't know babe... What if..."

"What if what?"

What if you look ugly sitting on his face like that? What if you suffocate him with your weight? What if...

Mello knew what was going through your mind. It wasn't his first day of meeting you.

He shook his head with a small smile before pressing your hand reassuringly, his other hand reaching for your left cheek. His voice was as firm as ever, not even a tiny bit of doubt floating in it.

"You'll be fine, gorgeous. I wouldn't have suggested this if I didn't know whether it was going to work out. Just trust me on this one, ok?"

Well, there couldn't be any arguments left on your mind when he puts it that way.

Slowly, you let out a deep breath before raising you foot to place it next to his head. You were remaining on top of his face, still not attempting to sink down fully. He rolled his eyes at your uncertainness and grabbed your hips, pulling you down with force. Your clit suddenly slammed against his lips.

"Oh!"

Look at you! He hadn't even started yet and you were already moaning.

Trying to cover your excited smile with your hand was useless. Mello had already seen it.

"So now you're giggling? You were acting a bit different earlier"

"Oh shut up! Let's just get this over with"

"So bold talking to me like that. Let's see how long you can keep up with this attitude"

He spent a few seconds staring at your face, his heart warming up by how you looked so entrancing from his point of view. If only you could see yourself through his eyes...

Just when you wanted to ask him what was taking him so long, his lips met with your cunt. A low pitched moan left your mouth as his tongue started playing with your clit. It was unbelievable how skilled he was at eating you out, how his damn tongue made you lost your mind and try to grind against it harder. But this time... It felt better, closer, deeper. His tongue was warm, and so was your pussy. The only difference was that there weren't any tasty liquid coming out of his mouth.

It was like his mouth had mistaken your folds for your lips. He was going deeper and deeper, closing his eyes to enjoy the taste of your arousal. He had to grip your hips in order to make you stay above him, though it wasn't easy since you were squirming around so much. But tonight was all about you, so he could put up with that, just for now.

"O-oh! A- Oh my god!"

"Right?~ Told you it was gonna be fun"

Your entrance was aching a bit, but the pleasure was too much to give up on. You could only grip the mattress under his head to keep yourself from falling, and of course binging your core nearer to him as it wasn't literally on his face already. Was he protesting? Heck no, not when he could enjoy the view of your back arching so prettily above him.

His tongue was moving around everywhere, your walls, the surface, your hole, anywhere but your damn clit. No matter how much you pressed yourself against his face, he wasn't gonna give up on the teasing.

You totally forgot about how you were worried to suffocate him.

"Mello! Stop teasi- Ah!"

He finally did it. The second you started talking, he sucked on your clit so hard that you nearly saw stars. A loud moan, almost close to a scream escaped your mouth, but it didn't stop there; as his mouth didn't let go of your clit.

Now your sensitive flesh was fully in his mouth, his tongue moving up and down on it. The tip of his tongue pocked your hole then came up again to the apex. His talent in French kissing was a blessing and a problem at the same time, making you moan so hard you were sure that complains were coming at your door tomorrow morning.

"Shit shit shit! Right there! Please! Oh shit!"

"Mhm!"

One of his hands left your hips and came down to your pussy, rubbing on your way in and pushing inside. You couldn't see clearly anymore, all you could feel was the heat coming from your core filling you up, and his mouth fueling your body, dragging you closer to your release.

But apparently, it wasn't enough; since you started grinding on his tongue wildly, letting out lewd sounds. Weren't you tired of moving? That didn't really cross your mind at that time.

Thankfully Mello played along, keeping his tongue out for you to crush yourself on it. You tasted too good, so he was willing to let you smother him with your cunt if it meant he could have more of your arousal.

"Fuck! Oh my fucking go- Ah! Mello! I'm- I'm-"

And it happened. You started shivering harder than usual, screaming as your hot cum filled up his mouth. He placed his tongue on your entrance, unwilling to lose even one drop of your arousal. Your hole twitching above his muscle felt really nice.

Your scream was finally over, but your panting for breath wasn't. You took a deep breath before looking down at your boyfriend, finally seeing how red his face had became.

Poor guy. You knew he was going to have a hard time down there.

But you didn't feel that guilty, since he didn't seem to be upset.

Mello smiled when he spotted your eyes on him, stretching his arms out to run his fingers though his hair.

"Well, thanks for the meal"

Yeah, thanks for not refusing to eat your meal.