May I request a Micheal x gn!reader that out-dresses him on multiple occasions, concerts, dates, ect. Just overall having the tuffest fits known to man without even trying.
(Srry if this sounds corny)
OUTDRESSING THE KING
Michael Jackson x gn!reader
When you outdress the king of pop without even trying
Michael always has his fits nice and clean. He never went out looking bad at all. So imagine his surprise at having a partner who’s much more fashionable than he is.
Out dressing Michael in the most humble way ever.
Not even on purpose.
You could say you own a clothing brand at this point.
The Met Gala now would be jealous of you and him.
On dates, he’s just staring at how beautiful you look in your outfit. He’s complimenting you every living second.
When it’s a concert, everyone knows who you are—the king of pop’s partner, who looks like an absolute legend with your outfits.
One thing Michael will always do is gass you up. If someone were to try to pull you down in an interview or in person. He’s shutting them down.
Cause what does he look like letting you be berated all cause you express yourself with your outfits.
There are days when you don’t feel the fashion, and Michael would see this as a way of “oh, they don’t feel good” or maybe “something happened”. Cause what do you mean his peacock of a lover isn’t feeling the “fashion”? Speak to them.
Oh, and don’t let this man ever see you on the wedding day if it ever comes. He’s sobbing like a mess. You’re just in your own custom wedding outfit for
Michael doesn’t like chocolate much, but he loves his chocolate lady
“You’re telling me, you don’t like chocolate?” You asked, your curls bouncing with each step as you sat on Michael’s bed. It was just a classic afternoon at Hayvenhust.
What’s better than a classic afternoon is spending time with your lovely boyfriend, Michael.
Michael shook his head with a small smile.
“I just don’t really care much for it.” He said simply before chuckling at your shocked face.
“No way!! I’m dating an anti-chocolate lover?!” You spoke dramatically. Michael rolled his eyes playfully before lying down beside your sitting up body.
“I love you, though,” Michael said softly, his eyes sparkling with love for you. You giggled.
“But I’m not chocolate.”
“You may not be, but you’re my chocolate woman,” Michael responded.
Your face felt flushed before you basically lay by him now, fully relaxed with a wide grin.
“You’re so cheesy.”
“I’m a romantic, my love.”
“Even better.” You said back, kissing his cheek, to which he giggled softly.
a/n; this may be trash cuz I haven’t written in a while but happy Juneteenth to my beautiful brothers and sisters of color
┊ ♡ ﹒ byi : accidental creampie. pregnancy scare. inexperienced established couple. unsafe sex. peeing in front of your man. j*e jackson appearance.
Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him deeper with each thrust. The pleasure was all consuming for both of you, making it hard to think about anything else. Your body was completely focused on the sensations he was causing you—how could you be expected to think clearly when he was hitting that spot inside of you that made your legs shake and toes curl? You were drunk off his cock, plain and simple. Who knew getting fucked raw would be so good?
“Mikey.. Mikey~!” You whined, your arms hugging his neck real close to you as Michael’s breathing grew heavier. His movements are becoming less rhythmic and more desperate as he ruts into you, the headboard knocking gently against the wall with each thrust, a soft sound that seemed to fit rhythmically with the repeated slapping noises.
“Baby.. feels good..” Michael whimpered softly, “Wanna be in it—forever.” A high pitched sound that betrayed his desperation leaves his lips. “And ever..”
His hips angled upward instinctively, trying to push even deeper into you despite the physical limitations of the position. It was clear he was chasing an impossible depth, driven by primal urges in his boy brain. He loved the feeling of your pussy, he’s never known a feeling that gives him this much of a fucking high.
You start fucking him back, your orgasm building rapidly as your walls start to pulsate and swallow even more of his length. Your inner muscles tighten around him and you throw your head back, covering your mouth with a hand as waves of pleasure crashed over you. You were completely focused on your own release, your hips rolling upwards in perfect rhythm with his desperate thrusts.
“Nggh.. hah..” Michael’s hips are still against you.
The realization struck so suddenly that for a moment neither of you understood it. Michael had barely lifted his head from your shoulder when the color drained from his face. His entire body went rigid beneath your hands, the warmth between you evaporating as confusion gave way to horror. You watched the exact moment the math happened behind his eyes. One second he was smiling, breathless and dazed he always was after making you cum, and the next.. he was staring past you at absolutely nothing, his expression.. stricken.
The curtains billowed gently in the evening breeze.
“What is it, Mikey?” You asked quietly, sensing something was wrong despite coming down from your fucky headspace.
Michael swallowed as his gaze dropped to where he was sheathed inside of you, the tangled sheets gathered around your legs before lifting back to your face. The look in his eyes made your stomach sink—then you felt it pooling inside of you. For a few seconds he seemed unable to form words, before suddenly pulling out of you. His cock slipping free with a wet pop, a thin line of his cum and your juices stretched between his tip and your pussy, connecting the two with a delicate, glistening thread before it broke and dripped down onto the sheets below.
He dragged a hand down his face and let out a breath that sounded almost pained. “I..” His voice cracked so tried again. “I messed up..”
The silence that followed felt endless.
You sat upright and Michael moved too, retreating to the edge of the bed as though distance might somehow help him think. The sunset spilling through the window painted everything gold, casting long shadows across the room and turning the dust floating in the air into flecks of amber. Under different circumstances it would have been a perfect evening. Instead it felt absurdly cruel. The world outside was winding down into a peaceful sunset while the two of you sat here frozen in the middle of what felt like a disaster.
As you sat up, your gaze drifted downward and your breath hitched in your throat at the sight. Michael’s cum slowly dribbled out of your slit as the sunlight streaming through the window caught the liquid, making it glisten against your lips.
“Oh..” You say, still processing what you’re seeing.
Michael lowered his elbows to his knees and pressed both hands against his face. He looked impossibly young like this. Not a performer or a star. But a nervous twenty year old sitting in his childhood bedroom with absolutely no idea what to do. All he accidentally came inside his girlfriend.
“I thought I had more time,” He admitted into his palms. “Honestly, I really thought I did..” The confession was so sincere with no carelessness in his voice, only bewilderment. He genuinely could not understand how his confidence had failed him so spectacularly.
The truth of it wasn’t complicated, even if they both tried to dress it up. Neither of them were remotely sexually experienced in any real sense that would have given them confidence in what they were doing, nothing beyond fragments of hearsay and guesswork and the overconfidence you develop when you’re young and in love and convinced that wanting something badly enough counts as understanding it.
They had only recently become each other’s firsts, which made everything feel.. intensified? and urgent in a way neither of them really knew how to regulate yet; it had gone from tentative curiosity to something extremely addictive overnight the first time they decided it was time to have sex. It’s truly the closeness and euphoria of it all that makes you forget there are supposed to be rules, risks and consequences to sex because all you can think about is how good it feels to fuck.
So when you two rely on something like timing or instinct or the idea of “knowing when to stop,” it wasn’t because you actually knew how any of it worked. It was the fact that you were two people who had decided so foolishly that they were already grown enough to handle it. But in reality, you two were just learning each other too fast, caught in that blur where affection and desire all stack on top of each other neither of you are making smart decisions.
The problem was that neither of you actually knew anything. You knew fragments, half formed ideas passed along that no one bothered to verify with fact. Things told in bathrooms at parties, whispered in bedrooms at slumber parties, repeated by people who were only slightly less lost than you were. Friends. Cousins. Older girls who always sounded like they had access to some hidden manual everyone else missed. It all came packaged and wrapped with a pretty bow like it was the truth but none of it came with proof.
So now, when it matters and the stakes suddenly felt very real, all you actually had was hearsay dressed up as knowledge.
At Hayvenhurst, that realization settles into tension because when you visit, you’re constantly aware that you’re not alone even when nobody is in the room. It’s Sunday, which means the place isn’t so super busy, just dispersed because it’s a day of rest for the Jacksons and people move through their own little corners throughout the day. Somewhere deeper in the house there’s the low sound of a television on, probably one of his siblings watching something. A door opens and closes somewhere down the hall, followed by the soft rhythm of footsteps that don’t belong to either of you.
That’s why you’re both moving like this, a little careful about it as Michael leads you down the hallway in sweats and a wrinkled t shirt he pulled on too fast. His hair is a little messy as you follow a step behind him in an oversized shirt that hangs off your shoulders and cotton panties underneath, barefoot against the polished floor.
When you two reach the bathroom at the end of the hall, Michael pushes open the door to let you in first, his eyes flicking toward the hallway checking whether anyone is close enough to hear or see. There’s a faint sound of a drawer shutting maybe, or someone shifting in a chair—but nothing that suggests someone’s coming.
Inside, the bathroom is lit by the soft spill of light from the small bathroom window. He closes the door gently, careful not to let it click too loud.
You pull down your panties, the fabric sticky with the combined evidence of both your arousal and Michael’s release as you sat on the toilet seat. You can see the large wet spot clearly from here and you shift by spreading your thighs a bit, feeling a slow and steady leak.
Michael is sitting near the sink cabinet back against the door, elbows resting on his knees.
“’s supposed to work..” She says softly.
“Mhm?” He tilts his head a little. “You really think so?”
“Mhm.. well, I hope so..” She nods, chewing on her lip. “Your dad would kill me if I got pregnant..”
“I wouldn’t even let him near you, Tinker..” He huffs
After a couple seconds, you feel something warm in your bladder.
“Oh, Mikey.” She closes her thighs a bit. “Have to pee..”
“Go ahead,” he says immediately, soft about it like it’s not something she needs permission for—oh, he’s in love.
“Close your ears,” she whines. “’s embarrassing.”
He lets out a small, easy breath and turns his head away, obliging without hesitation. “I don’t mind, really.” He adds quieter this time.
He stays turned anyway, giving her space.
A few minutes pass in silence. She’s still sitting there, knees drawn together, staring at the floor while Michael remains nearby, quietly keeping her company.
Then she suddenly looks up. “What if I sneeze?”
Michael glances over. “Pardon?”
“What if I sneeze really hard?”
He frowns slightly. “Sneeze?”
“So your stuff comes out.” The answer is delivered with the complete sincerity of someone desperately trying to solve a problem. “My cousin told me about that!”
For a moment, he just looks at her. “You think you can sneeze it out?”
“I don’t know,” She admits. “Maybe, feels like there’s still some in there..”
The idea sounds strange, but neither of them knows enough to explain why. At this point they’re willing to consider almost anything.
Then she perks up slightly. “Black pepper.”
“What about black pepper, Tinkerbell?”
“It makes people sneeze.”
Michael thinks about it for all of two seconds. “Okay. I’ll go get some.” And before she can say another word, he’s already getting to his feet.
The house feels almost unnervingly normal compared to the panic upstairs. A television murmurs somewhere in the den. Somebody laughs from another room. A faint jingle of keys at the door.
He finds the little glass pepper shaker beside the stove and grabs it without hesitation, but the moment he turns toward the stairs, a voice stops him.
“What’re you doing, son?”
Michael nearly drops the shaker, slowly looking up to find Joe standing in the hallway, watching him with mild curiosity.
Michael just stares back then he looks at the pepper in his hand.
“(Name) needs it for her sinuses..”
Joe's eyes flick down to the shaker. “Black pepper.”
Michael swallows and nods, doing his best to appear casual. Unfortunately, casual has never been one of his stronger skills when it came to interacting with his father
“For her sinuses,” Joe repeats.
“That’s what she wanted..” Another pause.
Joe studies him for a moment longer, clearly aware that something about this interaction makes absolutely no sense.
But eventually he just shrugs.
“If you say so.”
Michael nods once then immediately heads for the stairs before another question can be asked.
His grip tightens around the pepper shaker as he takes the steps two at a time, relieved to have escaped the conversation. Explaining that he needed the pepper because his girlfriend was attempting to sneeze away a pregnancy scare would have been a considerably more difficult discussion.
You stood behind Batman with cuffs around your wrists, legs, and chains wrapped around your tall frame, basically looking like a tree trunk. Sparkles of purple surrounded your body. They twinkled in the air before disappearing.
You croaked, your eyes blindfolded to your wishes.
Honestly, you came willingly, you’ve been chased almost all of gothman all cause you help people in your own ways.
Definitely not because the criminals you deal with are practically paralyzed with fear from looking into your eyes.
You poofed from the cuffs, teleporting to Bruce, who was typing into the bat computer.
“Hello.” You croaked out, and Bruce paused his typing. Yeah, you were gonna be something, he didn’t have to know who you got out of your cuffs. He’s been tracking you down long enough to know you’re just something that’s a mystery, along with being called the “purple devil.”
You were just some tall vigilante who wore a dark, padded cloak.
Dick was friendly. He didn’t ask you many questions other than what you liked to do, what your favorite hobbies were, and etc, etc., etc. Sadly, all you answered was voice cracks and croaks.
He froze when he realized you didn’t even speak regular English. You spoke in these weird tongues. When you had to say, “Look for the eye.” He was so confused before you just waved it off. Like, oh okay.
Jason didn’t really meet you til later that year when you were getting familiar with the family. He entered his old room, walking in it, he didn’t suspect a tall ass creature with purple pixels floating in the air to look at him with menacing purple glowing eyes.
As your jaw unhinged itself due to the eye contact, static roared through the male’s head before dick grabbed Jason and closed the door.
“What the fuck was that?” He asked Dick, who had a sheepish smile. “That’s the newest addition to the family, but they don’t like eye contact,” Dick said simply.
It was kind of weird with you and Jason; you apologized with paper and pen.
Tim was the one who kept asking questions. Kept trying to experiment on you, but not in a creepy and gross way. More like “oh ca you do this?”What else can you do?” “Allergic to water?”
He’s the one who’d probably make you a waterproof safety outfit. Anything will be waterproof in his sight.
You may be some weird creature, but you’re family.
Steph is very chaotic, but she’s the best sister you could ask for. She’s playful, protective, and always has your back. Although you could say that sometimes she could be a little too much for you.
You love her dearly, though, nothing wrong with that.
She’s the type to literally cover a wet puddle with her body so you won’t get hurt. (She didn’t know that you were fine unless it was just skin contact.)
Duke is a chill guy, he was the first to see how you mostly didn’t like water on your skin and watched the weather every day like a ritual til he told other members of the family.
He’s the one to make you mostly laugh in your weird language.
Barbara likes to play around with you. She sometimes sends you things and asks you to grab some signals for her. You’d easily teleport away and come back with proof on your phone from something that was needed for evidence.
Cass loves teaching you hand signs since you have broken English.
All you do is croak and groan in frustration. Small “hello”’s and “wassup”’s from around the manor. You’re pretty close to her despite Dick being the most warming brother figure you could ever have.
And lastly Damian. Damian wasn’t very welcoming at fist til he saw you painting what looked like a purple place with spongy flooring. There was a dragon swirling. He didn’t know what it meant. But all he knew was that you were artistic. He started to do his arts around you. You gave him a smile with a thumbs-up. And there you both became art buddies.
Alfred was nice to always leave you small snacks at your door since you didn’t like to come out a lot due to the insecurity of your appearance.
Your purple, weird freckles along with glowing purple eyes and some kind of purple to black specks on your skin.
The others didn’t mind it; they told you that despite how you kept teleporting away once a small spit of your skin was out.
You always wore a black hoodie and baggy black sweatpants with slides/shoes.
The dark knight now knows what the dark creature is.
It’s just a tall teenager who has bad social anxiety.
Spiderman!michael who loves to use his sticky hands to get a good grip on you for hugs
Spiderman!michael who is a smooth spider who loves his simple civilian pretty thang
Spiderman!michael who would jokingly web you against anything if you tried to run from a kiss
Spiderman!michael who loves to do the upside kiss cause it makes him kick his feet around a lot
Spiderman!michael who has personally accidentally stuck himself to you and was so embarrassed he kept his hands to himself got almost a whole month
Spiderman!michael who loves to surprise you by sticking to the ceiling just to say a simple “hi!” With a goofy grin on his face
Spiderman!michael who would write things about you from afar as he’s on patrol, he’d basically draw you with small lyrics that he wrote about you
Spiderman!michael who likes to joke about webbing you all to himself like prey although he has webbed you cause you kept tickling him and he almost peed himself
Spiderman!michael who wouldn’t mind if you wore his mask, it makes him feel like you just see him other than Michael Jackson or Spiderman. He’s just him to you.
Spiderman!michael who likes to climb up into your window like some romance movie just for you to scold him how people may see him
Spiderman!michael who loves to just be by you no matter what, no matter what happens across timelines and world. He’s always gonna be around you.
“Fuck yes!” You exclaimed happily, and why were you this happy?
Because it’s a girl’s night and you were sooo fucking ready to get ready, party, dance with your girls, and probably drink some margaritas.
You had put on some gold jewelry, a nice black dress that hung nicely on your figure, along with a nice gold necklace.
You put on your favorite heels that make it just perfect for the outfit.
Meanwhile, Jaafar was cooking dinner, and he didn’t know that you were gonna be gone for the night. He suddenly smells the perfume he bought you. It’s that rich Versace perfume he bought you when you both were shopping last week.
Turning around, he almost dropped the wooden spoon he was using for some pasta sauce.
“Whoa..” he said, shocked, his cheeks heated up seeing how beautiful you looked. He turned around fully, moving to lean against the countertop by the stove that’s on minimum high.
“How do I look?” You asked with a very small smile, giving him a small twirl.
How do you look? If Jaafar could, he would’ve told you, “You look like every word that could describe beauty. “
“You look... wow, you look beautiful.” He said softly, more softly than he intended to. But it already made you smile bashfully.
“Thanks, J.” You spoke in the tone that meant you truly appreciated it. Jaafar could only nod.
You both ended up staring at each other, embracing the silence before you looked behind him with a small chuckle.
“Jaafar, the sauce?” You said, pointing over his shoulder. Jaafar’s eyes widened as he turned around.
“Oh shit!” He turned off the stove and moved the pasta sauce that had almost burned.
Laughing, Jaafar ran a hand through his curls before looking at you again. “Where are you going anyway?”
“Oh, I have a girls' night tonight.” You said simply, tilting your weight to your other foot.
Jaafar nodded, taking in why you were so dolled up. “Want me to uh, drop you off?” He asked. Trying to act like he isn’t trying to grab more time with you, despite now fixing the pasta sauce and pouring it over the pasta.
“It’s okay, one of my girls is outside.”
Jaafar pressed his lips into a thin line, but you didn’t see it, of course. He turned the stove off and took off his apron.
“Let me just escort you down.” He said quickly, afraid of his voice letting out the feeling he had.
You raised a brow as Jaafar quickly walked past you and opened the door to the shared condo you both live in.
“You sure?” You questioned, “You seemed pretty busy making the pasta.”
“Nonsense, it’s my duty as your roommate to make sure you’re safe,” Jaafar said with a smile, watching how you couldn’t help but smile back at him.
“Okay then.” You said softly, walking past him as he then closed the door.
Just one more minute.
Aftermath— Jaafar couldn’t get the thought of your face and how you looked. His face burned with embarrassment as he couldn’t even look at the pasta he was eating. He just wondered how you would look during… nvm.
Heated kisses, you had brought this guy to your place after a couple of dates.
It was weird since you both hadn’t asked each other out, but God, he was hot.
As he got on top of you, his hands running across your waist.
A harsh knock was at the door of your apartment. You jolted along with the guy who looked confused but frightened by the knocking.
You made sure you were at least decent before answering the door.
And you immediately regretted it as it was, yep, you guessed it, Jermajesty with shades on with a black jacket, Jordans, and black sweats.
The guy who was on your couch was confused now, the fear going away but now confused, stuck his face as he watched Jermajesty give you a bear hug.
“Ahhh, there’s my pretty girl, how you holdin’ up?” He said, smiling, showing off his gap tooth.
“Jermajesty?? What the hell are you doing here?” You asked, looking behind you towards the guy who looked now at the TV as if it was interesting. You then looked at the male in front of you, who just kept a smile on his face.
“What? I can’t check up on my bestie now?” He asked playfully, walking around you whilst you opened your mouth but closed it. Although you did close your door.
The atmosphere was weird, and Jermajesty was just basking in it when he manspread across your couch with a smile at the guy who seemed uncomfortable.
“Hi, I’m Jermajesty,” he said, putting his hand out for a handshake. “I’m y/n’s best friend.” He said ‘best’ with a clear pronunciation. Making it sting in the guy’s ear.
“Uh, I’m Josh..” Josh said back, shaking Jermajesty’s hand.
Josh didn’t last five minutes with Jermajesty practically taking over the room with just his presence.
Josh left quickly, not even giving you a simple goodbye. You sighed and locked the door after he left, and looked at Jermajesty, who was now sitting on a bar stool that was by the kitchen counter.
“You knew that guy was here, didn’t you?” you blurted out as you stared Jermajesty down. Jermajesty stared at you before smiling. A cheeky smile. Not even the performance smile he had earlier.
That was all you needed to know before you smacked his arm.
“You bastard!”
“Chill! Chill!” He yelled as you chased him with a spatula that was by your stove.
You, y/n l/n, have a job that makes you work late at night from 10 pm to 1 am. Basically, two to three hours as a waiter.
You hummed, bussing down a table that held a family of four.
You wondered what Jaafar is probably doing, probably having his management team schedule another meeting for an interview or an ambush at a movie theater.
“Hey, table fifteen needs you to serve them.” Your work friend said. Holding up her own tray as she pats your back.
“On it.” You replied back, you finished cleaning the table, and walked off.
If only you knew.
Jaafar was waiting at home for you. It was now 11 pm. At a certain hour and routine, he would check his phone to see if you would text him. Keeping him updated.
He could’ve been talking to his friends, catching up on random shows.
But here he is just sitting on the couch, you would’ve been sitting with him while watching some cheesy black sitcom you loved.
He finally couldn’t hold it back when the time read 11:30, he texted you.
Jaafar
How’s work going?
Are you doing well?
No text back from you, this only made Jaafar second-guess that maybe he was just being too clingy to his own friend that he’s emotionally attached to.
He set his phone down, walking to the kitchen before his phone dinged. He tripped over his foot after hearing the ding. He got up straight before grabbing his phone, which he had set on the couch.
Cutie roomie❤️
Works are going well, surprisingly, and even more, I’m doing well despite being tired
You texted back, and he smiled as he texted back.
Jaafar
Sounds like it's going well
Cutie roomie❤️
Har har, why are you even up right now?
Jaafar
Because I’m a grown adult???
Cutie roomie❤️
Okay bud
And it ended just like that, with him smiling at his phone like a teenage boy all over again.
Aftermath— Jaafar was sleeping on the couch when you came in quietly. You snickered softly at the sight of Jaafar sleeping on the couch. You put the blanket that was neatly folded over him.
It’s late at night, on the brink of midnight, the restaurant seemed to be slowly dying, with customers leaving and coworkers.
You checked your phone, seeing a text from your roommate.
J❤️
I’m coming over to get you.
You could only smile before tucking your phone back into your pocket. You only had at least twenty minutes til he picked you up.
Your friend Jennie was talking to you while you bit your cheek, counting the minutes.
She paused on the tea she was spilling on how about someone who got their baby momma pregnant again. “Y/n?? Girl, are you even listening to me??” She asked. Raising a brow as you gave a sheepish look.
“If you want the real answer, no… I’m just tryna go home and sleep.” You respond honestly. Jennie couldn't help but laugh.
“I can’t blame you, girly, me too. Who’s picking you up, though?”
“My roommate.”
“The one that you keep hidden??” She questioned with a smirk, leaning against the counter of the reception.
Your eyes go wide before you swat her arm. “Oh, shush!” You hissed playfully.
Grabbing your jacket, you feel a buzz against your back pocket. Pulling it out, you see another text from Jaafar.
J❤️
I’m outside
You
Bettt
You quickly waved bye to your friend, and she waved back with a grin. When exiting the restaurant, you saw the black SUV. Jaafar quickly got out of the driver's seat, giddy with a smile on his face when seeing you.
“There you are,” he said softly, approaching you in a hug. You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck while his arms were around your waist.
“Hey.” You said, feeling relieved in his hug. Jaafar’s hands went from your waist to your hips, leaving you to make space. “Let’s go home.” You said simply, having Jaafar chuckle.
He led you back to the car, a gentle hand on your lower back. He opened the passenger door and closed it before going back to the driver's seat and driving off.
You liked being picked up by Jaafar.
Aftermath— you snored peacefully in the car as Jaafar kept the music down low with the AC nicely set against your face. Jaafar glanced at you, smiling softly before facing forward.
Jaafar with his roommate that’s younger than he thought, it’s a twenty year old college student who literally never was good with people and didn’t have a good relationship with their parents. Jaafar is also awkward cause whoa he’s almost thirty and this is ‘kid’ is twenty years olds almost a whole decade younger than him. Things go from awkward to “oh you’re just an awkward little guy.” Jaafar goes from to just your roommate to “I’m practically your older brother” in the soap of ten months. He pays for your tuition, he pays for your school books. You try to decline it but then you’ll feel guilty and feel bad for turning him down. He then takes you to meet his family and you’re immediately treated as one of them. Guess you’re a Jackson now.
Jaafar with his roommate that’s younger than he thought, it’s a twenty year old college student who literally never was good with people and didn’t have a good relationship with their parents. Jaafar is also awkward cause whoa he’s almost thirty and this is ‘kid’ is twenty years olds almost a whole decade younger than him. Things go from awkward to “oh you’re just an awkward little guy.” Jaafar goes from to just your roommate to “I’m practically your older brother” in the soap of ten months. He pays for your tuition, he pays for your school books. You try to decline it but then you’ll feel guilty and feel bad for turning him down. He then takes you to meet his family and you’re immediately treated as one of them. Guess you’re a Jackson now.
He likes to be in the spotlight, not in a way where it’s obvious. But in the way he’s everything a guy wants to be.
He’s charming, funny, and handsome.
Meanwhile, you weren’t the same at all. You were the one that’s introverted, the one girl guys wouldn’t even do a double take at you.
And suddenly that changed when Jermajesty invited you out to a simple party. The music was blasting, and the lights were off with LED lights on instead.
It wasn’t like a crazy party; it was a chill one with people talking and dancing. Some people drink here and there.
Jermajesty was by your side til he got distracted by needing a drink, a soda, since obviously he drove you and him to this place. While he was gone, you stood by a wall. Your eyes are facing down, trying to blur out the music that started to play some rnb.
As you blinked for one second, a guy walks up to you with a confident smile on his face. He stood in front of you, basically covering you and blocking your path a bit.
“Hey there, beautiful, what are you doing all alone over here?” He said, watching you closely as you swallowed before talking.
“I’m just relaxing.. and I’m not really alone.” You explained, shifting your feet side to side, before the guy puts an arm around you.
You tensed up, giving off a nervous smile and a laugh. Just relax when you’re clearly uncomfortable. But the guy didn’t even know that. All he saw was you giving him an opening.
Meanwhile, this was happening, Jermajesty was holding a can of soda and a bottle of water. He stood a few feet away, watching how the guy was practically over you. He saw that laugh; he could hear it even with the music blasting. He felt his stomach clench along with his hands against the drinks.
And before his brain could even process what he was doing, he walked over there and immediately. You glanced from the guy to see Jermajesty walking over, but the smile on your face when you saw him falters.
His eyes were dark, and he wasn’t really looking at you; he was staring the guy down.
“Yo, can you like get your hands off of her?” He said, his voice loud while he made sure to take the attention off of you
The guy looked at Jermajesty, irritated, “Who are you? Her boyfriend?”
“I’m her friend, and I suggest you get your arm from her before I take it off.” Jermajesty was getting angrier. And you could see that.
The guy looked at Jermajesty more clearly, the booze running from his system when he realized that he wasn’t scaring Jermajesty at all.
The guy just scoffed and moved from you, leaving you and Jermajesty there by the corner. After he was gone, the brown-skinned male in front of you looked at you after taking a deep breath.
“You okay?” He asks, giving you the waterbottle he had grabbed from the kitchen when he thought about you.
“Yeah… just.. this is why I don’t like parties, Jer…” you explained.
“Yeah… next time we can just chill at Hayvenhurst if you want,” Jermajesty said, smiling when he saw you relaxed by his words.
Need pinkiepie!reader getting tutored by Damien but she keeps getting distracted so everytime she gets something right she gets candy so she wont get distracted
HYPER-FOCUS
D.WAYNE X PINKIE PIE!READER
synopsis: when having trouble to focus, Damian brought out a trick that he knows will help you
genre: small story
a/n: help cause my tutor back in middle school did this to me cause of my adhd 😭
“Studying is sooo boring!” You exclaimed, your poofy pink hair bounced with a head tilt as you looked at Damian, who wore glasses for this tutoring session.
“Y/n, you haven’t even answered a single question correctly in the past fifteen minutes,” Damian called out, looking at you over his glasses frames whilst you blew hair out of your face.
Again, once distracted easily, Damian could only sigh with a scowl on his face.
“Tt. I swear you are troubled with focusing.” He said, but of course, you were too busy spacing off. Damian could only glare at his beloved friend before he had an idea that popped into his mind.
He got off his bed and went into a drawer.
There was a compartment that was labeled “y/n’s stash” that was perfectly untouched. It was always filled up by him, you, or Alfred. But now it was gonna be needed for this time of emergency.
He grabbed Starburst, and the minute he pulled it out, he looked behind him to see you staring him down. You were just on the bed, and now you were somehow by him just by seconds.
“Whatcha doin'?” You asked in a cheery tone, your eyes bright, looking at him before looking at the candy in Damian’s hand.
“I’m going to do a little trick for you.” He said his face was still, while you gasped dramatically.
“Oooh, I love tricks!!” You exclaimed with clapping hands.
You jumped up and down as Damian went over to his room desk. You skipped over to him. When you reached the reach of his arm, he grabbed you to sit down in the chair he had in front of his desk.
You blinked simultaneously as Damian kept a hand behind on the back of the chair.
“If you get any of these questions right, you will earn candy.” He said sternly, his green eyes staring directly into your own eyes.
You nodded quickly, eyes blaring more with happiness and joy at the thought of eating some candy.
Damian just stared at you blankly before letting out a smile on his face as he started to lecture you. He has you do a quick couple of questions
He double checked your answers, and when he saw that they were correct. He smiled and gave you a pink starburst.
You shoved that juicy square candy into your mouth and smiled in ecstasy at the flavors melting on your tongue.
Yeah, this trick will definitely help you.
Aftermath— you yelled at Damian as you grabbed the starbursts from his. Damian yelled back, but you gobbled down the whole pack as Damian tried to control the monster he just released.
(っ´ཀ`)っ synopsis. you’re part of the knights of favonius, riding along on grand master varka’s expedition. you’re not exactly expected to fight alongside him… but you do battle his massive knot like a true knight!
the expedition had gone smoother than most. no fatui ambushes, no wild hunt, just long days of marching and the steady rhythm of armor clanking behind the grand master. you were supposed to feel proud—knights lived for the chance to march at varka’s side.
he was impossible not to notice anyway. towering, broad, laughing louder than anyone else on the trail. varka carried half the supplies on his back like they weighed nothing,he was everything a leader should be—warm, fearless, endlessly strong.
and yet, sometimes, his gaze slipped to you. too long. too heavy. like he could strip your armor off with a look.
“keep up, little knight,” he’d called over his shoulder at one point, grin sharp as his blade. “or i’ll have to carry you too.”
varka. grandmaster of the knights of favonius. knight of boreas. and right now, a man on the edge.
normally he’s loudest at the fire—booming laugh, big hands clapping shoulders, spinning stories that make even the greenest recruits forget their homesickness. but tonight, he’s restless. too hot. you can see it in the way sweat beads at his temple, in the taut flex of his hand around his mug, in how his grin falters a little too quick when someone bumps his shoulder.
he’s been like this for days. short-tempered, running hot, chewing out the men in a way that’s uncharacteristic. and you know why.
his rut is building.
and you—his so-called “designated knight”—have been mentally bracing for it.
“the knight of boreas looks a little tamed tonight,” one of the younger men jokes, emboldened by drink. laughter ripples, but dies quick when varka’s head snaps toward him.
the low, warning growl he gives doesn’t belong to a man.
your stomach flips. his eyes—bright, wild, hungry—cut past the poor recruit and pin you. you freeze, mug halfway to your lips.
then, in a voice that rumbles low and even:
“my tent. now.”
the fire might as well go out for how quiet the camp gets. no one dares to move, but you can hear the whispers anyway.
“poor thing…”
“definitely won’t be walking straight tomorrow.”
your face burns as you set your mug aside and stand, his gaze following you until you slip into the shadows.
inside his tent, the flap barely falls shut before you’re slammed against a pole, breath stolen.
“wait–” you gasp, but his mouth swallows it, hot and demanding, tongue pressing past your lips like he hasn’t kissed you in months. his body radiates heat, burning through your uniform, and his hands—archons, his hands—are everywhere.
you were meant to be a knight. trained with steel in your hand, sworn to fight alongside him. instead, you’d become something else. the one who steadied varka’s shaking hands, who let him rut into you until dawn and left you sore and marked.
“knew you were watching me.” his grin is sharp, feral, as he pulls back just enough to speak. his voice vibrates in your bones, dripping with mockery. “sweet thing, sitting there pretending you aren’t waiting for me to lose it.”
“varka—”
“grandmaster,” he corrects, chuckling darkly, his hand sliding down to cup your ass and drag you against his hard cock. even through his trousers you feel the obscene swell of his knot, already straining, begging to be buried inside you.
you shiver. you’ll never get used to that.
he doesn’t give you time to retort. your back hits the bedroll, his weight caging you in. his big hands tear at your clothes like they’re nothing, tossing each piece aside until you’re bare beneath him, shivering under the heat of his body.
then his belt clinks, trousers shoved down—and when he frees himself, your breath hitches hard in your chest.
“ahh, there it is,” he drawls, fist wrapped around the base of his cock like he’s showing it off. it’s monstrous, thick enough your thighs press together instinctively, heavy veins running along the flushed shaft, the tip already glossy with pre. worse—there’s already a bulge at the base, that small swollen knot that makes your stomach flip.
“fuck—” the word slips out of you before you can catch it, eyes wide.
his grin is sharp, wolfish. “mm? what’s that, little knight? seen me like this plenty of times, and you still look surprised?” he gives himself a lazy stroke, squeezing just under the forming knot, and more pre dribbles down over his fist. “hah, still makes you gasp, doesn’t it? look at you, staring like you’re scared i’ll split you in half.”
you shake your head, but it’s a weak denial, thighs clenching tighter.
he chuckles low in his chest, leaning down until the blunt, leaking head smears against your slick folds, smearing pre all over your cunt. “don’t worry, pup. you’ll take it. you always do. and this time, you’re not just takin’ me—you’re keepin’ me. right here—” he presses his cockhead snug against your entrance, letting you feel the tip straining against your folds, “—locked inside, ‘til every drop’s bred deep.”
outside, the campfire chatter picks back up. boots shuffle. mugs clink. and you know they’ll hear everything.
“lemme hear you, pup.” his grin widens when you turn your face, biting back a whimper. “i didn’t train you to be shy. let them know who keeps you stuffed full every rut.”
and then—he sinks in, thick and brutal, splitting you open until the stretch steals your breath and your nails claw helplessly at the bedroll.
“ahhh, there it is,” he rumbles, rough hands gripping your hips, fingers pressing bruises into your skin. “trying to fight me already? thought you’d be used to this by now, little knight.”
you gasp, trying to arch away, but he just pins you harder, pressing your shoulders to the furs underneath. “you’re not going anywhere.” his free hand slides up to your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his wild, blue wolfish gaze. “look at me. look at who’s gonna breed you tonight.”
your back arches on instinct, hips jerking forward. you whimper, tiny noises spilling past your lips. “varka—please—”
he laughs, low and wicked, and his cock drives into you again and again, heavy body pinning you down so there’s no escape, no reprieve. each thrust is ruthless, deeper than the last, until your thighs are trembling, until you can barely remember how to breathe.
you’re already coming undone, clenching around him hard, body breaking apart on his cock.
“hah, there it is,” he growls, grinning like he’s just won a fight. “sweet little knight’s already twitchin’ on me—haven’t even knotted you yet. that’s why you’re my most valuable one, y’know? don’t need your blade when you’ve got this cunt squeezing me like it was made to.”
his words hit as hard as his thrusts, each one pushing you deeper into that haze of pleasure and humiliation. you try to turn your face, muffle the sounds spilling out of your throat, but his hand is right there, rough thumb pressing against your tongue, forcing you to moan around it.
“good pup. louder.” his voice drops into that sing-song mockery that makes your belly tighten. “let ‘em all hear how well their grand master fucks his favorite knight.”
you whimper, body shaking, nails clawing at the bedroll. “ ‘s t-too much—”
he just laughs, hips slamming forward so hard your back arches off the furs. “too much? no such thing. besides—” his thrusts get messier, sharper, the weight of him grinding you down, “—you know what’s comin’, don’t you?”
the blunt swell keeps bumping against you, pressing insistently, and panic tangles with your pleasure. you’ve taken him before, survived it before, but every time it feels impossible until it’s happening.
“n-no, varka—”
“grand master,” he corrects again, voice a rumble, a growl. his mouth is at your ear now, hot breath washing over your skin. “have some respect, pup.”
you shake your head, but he feels the way your pussy tightens around him, the way your hips try to jerk up even as you plead.
he pulls back, only to slam forward again, knot grinding against your entrance, forcing another sob out of you. you’re half trying to crawl away, half melting under him.
varka chuckles darkly, turning you around and pushing your shoulders down until your cheek’s mashed to the bedroll. “look at you. already crying on my cock and i haven’t even stuffed you full yet. you think you’re ready to march back to mondstadt after this expedition? or should i pump you full right here? make sure you’re carrying my pups before we ever see the city walls?”
your head jerks up at that, but he just grabs the back of your neck, holding you down like a wolf pinning its mate, thrusting with sharp, brutal snaps of his hips.
“hear me?” his voice is a growl now, low and possessive but still teasing at the edges. “by the time we’re back home, everyone’ll smell me on you. might even see your belly startin’ to swell. they’ll know who fucked the fight outta their little knight.”
your whole body jolts at the grand master’s words, a strangled moan tearing out of your throat as your cunt clenches around him. the mental image of trudging back to mondstadt with his scent all over you and his seed dripping down your thighs is too much. you break, gushing around him, eyes rolling back as he snarls against your ear.
“just like that,” he growls, hips never stopping. “show me you want it. squeeze me until that little hole’s ready to take my knot.”
you whimper, still dizzy, but he just presses harder on the back of your neck, keeping you pinned. “good pup. that’s it. the harder you cum, the easier it’ll be to lock you down and pump you full.”
his other hand snakes around to your front, palm flat on your stomach where it bulges around his cock. he presses down, making you feel every inch.
“so small,” he coos, laughing breathlessly. “can feel myself right here. fuck—this cunt was made to hold the grand master’s knot, wasn’t it?”
you whimper something that’s not quite a no, not quite a yes, but he just keeps moving, pushing his knot against you over and over, testing your limits.
“open up,” he grinds out. “gonna split you on it. stretch you ‘til you’re stuck. you’ll thank me later when you’re heavy with my pups, when everyone knows you’re mine.”
then, with one brutal roll of his hips, the knot pushes inside, swelling immediately, locking you around him. your whole body arches, a sob breaking out of your throat as you’re stuffed to the brim.
“ahhh—fuck, that’s it,” he snarls, voice going rough. “tight little thing. keep milkin’ me. i’ll give you every drop—fill you so full it leaks down your thighs. won’t stop ‘til you’re bred properly.”
he moves even while locked, little grinding thrusts that send sparks up your spine. outside, you hear someone shift near the campfire, but varka only laughs, low and wicked, as he bends over your back.
“there you go,” he purrs, licking a stripe up your cheek like some wolf staking its claim. “cry on your grand master’s cock. let the whole camp hear how you belong to me.”
when the third oldest sister doesn’t play about her baby bro. 
Tw: mentions of Diana Ross
What’s worse than a daughter who’s called a shame to the family? A daughter who doesn’t give two shits.
You, y/n Jackson, are the third-oldest sister to Janet, Randy, Marlon, and Michael. But the youngest among the others.
You were quite the handful, especially to Joe, who tried to be aggressive and scare you.
And what did you do? You talked back.
He tried to scare you; he tried to intimidate.
When he tried to put his hands on you, you hit him, which shocked him and most of your siblings. But one brother looked at you with such amusement.
Michael.
And how did it come to you to hit him?
It came from when he was forcing you to dance and sing, you were forced to wake up at 5 am, along with your brothers, who were about to go to another bar for their performance.
Your curly Afro was messy, and your eyes were heavy with sleep. You complained, and when you complain, you don’t stop til you get what you want.
Joe had had enough and sat up quickly, which startled Michael.
He raised his hand ready to hit you, and you moved back and then raised your hand and smacked him across his face.
Joe gave up on trying to make you work like the others. Meanwhile, Michael was the star of the family, working 9 to 5 at the age of a kindergartener.
You would’ve been in your room listening to some soul music before Michael bussed in your room with a bright smile.
“Y/n!” He exclaimed with that smile that made you relax further into your bed.
“Yes, Mike?” You called out softly, and he jumped onto your bed and brought out his favorite book.
“Can you read this to me?” Michael’s eyes were a little weary, scared of your reaction. He knew you usually say no to some of the things that are asked, except for your mother or your other favorite brother.
But you could only chuckle and boop Michael on his nose.
“Sure, Mike. Cmere.” You grabbed the book he wanted you to read for him. Michael’s weary look melted away, but pure fear before excitement as he scooted over to you.
And that made the bond between you two closer.
If you were in a room, he’d be there. If you were to leave cause you didn't find anything interesting, he’d walk after you after a few minutes.
Jackie called you “big sis general” one time. Funny, but it was true to how you strictly ran things.
When Michael was getting older, you started to realize how crazy people were for him.
Especially one old hag that seemed to hate your every living building, since Michael looked at you with pure admiration as his big sister.
You did have a small singing career, one that you did by yourself and had your own management with people you trust.
So imagine how you felt when Diana Ross ignored you and walked past you during an interview called “the two biggest women of music”. You held back every curse word right there. But she sure didn’t ignore Michael, who looked nervous but flustered by Diana. Michael was young, and she’s old, trying to flirt with your baby brother?
“Oh, so that’s how the bitch wanna play?” You thought before a smile crossed your face.
It’s after the interview that you cornered her in her dressing room. You were leaning up against her door as she was doing her makeup. She didn’t notice you at first before you started talking.
You smiled at Diana with a nice smile, “Hello, Diana.” You said in that tone as she stiffened before looking at you with a forced smile on her face.
“Hello… y/n.” She said, looking at you with hatred in her eyes. And your voice was the same; the only difference was that you held it more composed.
“You see, Diana. I’ve been noticing how you’re acting weird around Michael. And if I catch you bein’ weird to my baby brother.” You stepped close to her. “I may have to beat your ass.” You stepped back, turning your back as your slicked back curls bounced with each strut as you exited.
That’s all you said before leaving with Michael, following you from afar, clearly oblivious to what his older sister did.
🐊 featuring: {separate}: 𝐱𝐢𝐚𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐥𝐲𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐥𝐨𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
🐊 tw: yandere themes ⭐︎ non/dubcon ⭐︎ kidnapping ⭐︎ delusions ⭐︎ they’re mean es shii ⭐︎ two faced asl ⭐︎ sadism ⭐︎ masochism ⭐︎ bondage ⭐︎ footjob ⭐︎ spanking ⭐︎ degradation ⭐︎ babytrapping ⭐︎ choking ⭐︎ manhandling ⭐︎ face sitting (m! receiving) ⭐︎ 69 ⭐︎ rimming ⭐︎ feminization ⭐︎ lingerie ⭐︎ collar ⭐︎ humiliation ⭐︎ hair pulling ⭐︎ stockholm syndrome ⭐︎
🐊 an: ah yes, time to feed the twink lovers, wish you luck ♡
🐊 HEIZOU — Knick-knack!
The collar snaps before your eyes finish rolling.
Leather biting sharp into your throat – not tight enough to choke, just cruelly reminding you he already knew you'd try it.
It forces a sharp gasp out of you—one you don't get to finish, because Heizou's already using that strip of leather to drag you right back between his legs.
Knuckles skimming your jaw as he guides your head down, unbothered, like he'd mapped out every move you were going to make before you made them.
One moment you’re glaring.
Next, your mouth is full of him.
His cock slides hot and heavy over your tongue, and the startled glkh!— that bursts out of you only makes his grin sharpen.
"There she is," he says, voice bright and almost clinical. "I gave you three opportunities to stop before it got to this point. You picked this."
You barely manage a sputter before he adjusts the collar again—SNAP!—tightening it to borderline cut off airflow.
His expression doesn't go cold so much as settle — as if he's arrived somewhere he expected to be. You glare up at him on instinct.
Heizou’s eyes lit up like you’d handed him a present.
"Oh, still brave," he murmurs, thumb brushing your lower lip with idle curiosity, like he's noting it down somewhere. "Predictable, but brave. Don't use your teeth, sweetheart. I already know you're thinking about it."
You don’t get to protest.
Before he slams his hips upward, seating himself deeper in your throat so fast your nose hits his skin. His cock nudges a place you're not ready for, your throat seizing around him as your vision spots.
glk!- glkh- glk
Breath stuttering, lashes fluttering as he watches your throat struggle around him.
"T-there it is," he sighs, pleased in that infuriating, already-knew-it way he has. "Much more honest than whatever smart little comment you… were... hah… about to make. I clocked the exact wording, by the way. Would've been a good one."
You dig your nails into his thighs hard, a silent ‘go fuck yourself.’
The sound you make next — a humiliating, involuntary little choke — made you cringe… and him lose composure entirely.
Making Heizou moaned loudly, head tipping back, a low breathless "Ah–!" slipping out before he could catch it, olive eyes fluttering like your defiance knocked something loose in his chest he hadn't accounted for.
First thing he hadn't accounted for.
He stares back down at you, something flickering in his expression — recalculating. Then that grin returns, slower this time. More interested.
"Hm." His thumb drags your lip down, watching the spit string between skin. "You keep doing things I don't predict. Do you know how rare that is?"
Loosening the collar just enough for you to gasp—wrong move. Your pride flares, and you try to snap back, but all that comes out is a vibration against his cock, a choked mmph! that makes his hips jerk.
"Look at you," he says, catching a tear you didn't realize had fallen, holding it on his thumb like it's a clue. "Still fighting. Still dripping. And you think I can't tell which one you're more embarrassed about."
Then he's guiding your head back down—slow, but not merciful—letting his cock drag over every tender inch of your tongue while he keeps watching.
slrp!—mmph!—glk!
He follows the tremor in your thighs like a bloodhound.
Watches them press together, you pretending it's not happening. He clocked the exact moment your hips gave the smallest, traitorous twitch toward him.
"There it is.." quietly, to himself more than you, "You know~," he continues, tilting his head, "I wasn't planning to use more than one hand today. But you're so full of-” Then something warm slides between your knees. “-surprises.”
His foot.
The arch nudges your thighs apart, slow and so casual — like it's the obvious next logical step — exposing your soaked underwear to the cool air.
“Hm?” he coos, voice all faux-gentle mockery. "You're already this wet, and we're barely into the hypothesis."
His thumb traces idle circles on the leather strap. "Your body keeps contradicting itself. That's going to be a problem for you."
You try to shake your head — trembling, furious denial — but the collar stops the motion dead. His foot presses in, slow and deliberate, rubbing just enough friction against your panties to make your breath stutter out through your nose.
"You look furious," Heizou observes, voice soft with something worse than mockery — genuine fascination. "You should see your own face right now. You're trying so hard."
Foot rubbing in that same terrifying precision he puts into everything — deliberate circles right against your soaked panties. The pressure is perfect — teasing your swollen clit through the thin fabric while his cock stays buried deep in your throat.
"Every single time I discipline you," shaft still buried deep in your throat, foot working you toward something you're desperately trying not to give him, "your body does this. I've noted it. I have a very thorough record."
You try to grumble around him, but it only comes out as a wet, vibrating mmph that makes his length twitch on your tongue.
Heizou chuckles, low and delighted.
“Oh? You like that?” His foot moves faster, rubbing firm strokes up and down your dripping slit, toes curling to press right against your clit. “Look at you… trying so badly to glare at me while your pussy’s grinding against my foot like a desperate little whore.”
The combination is too much.
Your moan vibrates wildly around his length as your orgasm crashes through you — humiliating, what's worse is that he doesn't even look surprised.
"Mhm." He watches you shake apart with the quiet satisfaction of someone whose theory was confirmed exactly on schedule. "Right on time."
Not giving you a second to recover, his hips chase his own high with the same focused efficiency he does everything else, collar keeping you exactly where the evidence requires you to be.
With a low, unraveling moan — the least composed sound he's made all night — Heizou buries himself deep and cums.
He holds you through every pulse, breathing hard, that careful control finally fraying at the edges.
When he finally pulls back, thumb smearing across your swollen lip, he looks down at you with something that isn't quite the grin from earlier.
More like the face he makes when he's solved something that actually took effort.
"Good girl." Soft. Sincere, almost. He leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead — unhurried, like punctuation. "You know what the most interesting part of all of this is?"
Oh god
He tilts your chin up. "You already know exactly why you keep ending up here. You just haven't admitted it to yourself yet."
Grinning, eyeing your trembling form. "I'll wait. I'm patient. I already know the answer."
He gives the collar one last gentle tug.
"Knick-knack.~"
🐊 KAZUHA — W.T.F.
“K-KAZUHA WHAT T-THE FUCKKK!—”
Your voice cracks–as he slams into you, deep-deep-deep, the force of it yanking your silk-bound wrists taut against the beam above. The ropes creak as your spine arches.
And Kazuha just watches, amber eyes half-lidded, like he’s admiring the way your body jolts with every thrust.
Fingers cave into your hips, digging past the surface, marking you obsessively. He drives home with a smoothness that shouldn't be this brutal, each roll of his body a new lesson in how much you can endure.
One thrust.
Two.
Counting the hitches in your chest, timing his pace to the exact second your breath fails you.
“You’re shaking,” he whispers, voice soft as a lullaby. His hips snap forward—hard—and your gasp catches high in your chest, stuck.
“Is it the bindings?...” His thumb strokes your inner thigh, gently. “Or losing your Vision?”
He says it with a terrifying ease. He’d turned that stolen glass over in his palm earlier, eyes wide and worshiping, before tying you open and filling you.
Your body bounces with every stroke, helpless. “Hahh—!” spills out when he drags you down harder, his grip tightening, fingertips pressing deep enough to leave marks.
The pace picks up—smooth, controlled, relentless—like he’s chasing the sound of your breath shattering.
Plap! Plap! Plap!
The wet smack of skin on skin echoes across the water, obscene.
“Easy…” his breath is a warm ghost against your skin, but his weight is a solid, punishing reality stretching you open. “You keep tightening around me like this—”
A particularly vicious thrust punches the air straight out of your lungs, leaving you hollow. “—I might think you enjoy it.”
“I DON’T—” The words snap out, hot and immediate, but they lose their edge halfway.
Something is failing in the back of your skull. Your thoughts are sluggish, stalling, sinking into a gray fog.
Behind him, the box pulses with a weak, dying rhythm—your Pyro Vision guttering out, its fire turning to ash. You wrench your eyes away because the sight of your own fading ambition is a physical ache.
Kazuha grinds into you, a slow, cruel pressure right where your nerves are rawest, before driving up with a sudden, jarring force.
“Nghh—FUCK—!” It spills out, unbidden. Kazuha just exhales a quiet laugh against your cheek.
You hate the scent of him—cedar and salt air.
Hate the softness of his hair, untouched by the violence of his hips.
Most of all, you hate the memory of the same hand currently bruising your hip, tucking a blanket around your shoulders this morning.
You were something precious then.
Now, you’re just a prize.
The hate is there, but it’s slipping through your fingers, dissolving into the void where your Vision used to be.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice a low vibration in your ear as he thrusts deeper. Schlk…schlk…schlk filling you sends a forced heat racing up your spine. “-my songbird is one of a kind~.”
“KAZUHA I SWEAR TO ARCHONS-” But your voice cracks. The fury is a cavernous gap, feeling emptier by the second.
Another brutal snap of his hips makes your back arch, the beam above you groaning under the strain.
“I thought you’d want it like this,” puzzled, a quiet, private observation. He pouts—a look of pure, confused innocence—while his thumb traces a slow, heavy line up your clit. “You said I was always too soft.”
His shaft pulsed a deliberate, agonizing hesitation just to watch you squirm.
“So I figured…” Another thrust, deeper, meaner. “…you’d like it rough.”
You try to muster up the strength to glare holes into him, but you could only whimper in despair at the effects of not having your vision increase.
Kazuha tilts his head slightly, watching the way your wrists strain against the ropes like you’re testing whether the knots might suddenly grow merciful.
“I’m sorry,” voice dropping, quieter. Almost apologetic, “it has to be like this.”
The sorrow in his eyes is real. Genuine.
It changes absolutely nothing about the pace of his hips.
Your breath comes in ragged gasps, chest heaving as he adjusts his grip — one hand sliding up your thigh, pushing your leg higher, spreading you wider.
You can feel it…the hollowness spreads slowly through your limbs like something being gently, methodically unplugged.
"Kaz..." Your voice comes out smaller than you want it to. "Kazuha, you said…hah y-you always said–"
"I know what I said." He says it softly, watching your face with that unbearable attentiveness, like he's memorizing something. "I meant it. Every word."
His hips roll forward, slow and thorough, and the sound that escapes you isn't angry at all. "I still mean it."
"Tch then why–"
"Because–" and here his composure cracks, "you were gunna to leave n' not come back- heh." fingers fondling your nipple, making you arch just perfectly into him as he pumps his thickened inches through every peak.
"And- I found," he continues, breathless now, white hair falling across his face as he drives deeper, "that I believe in your freedom–" thrust "completely–" thrust "except for that."
The boat sways, adding more force to his thrusts.
He chuckles darkly to himself, a tone you've never heard before. He swirls n' swirls his globular tip, the perfect rounded shape to press into your nerves.
And somewhere in the growing heaviness behind your eyes, you're realizing horribly, humiliatingly... that your hips have started moving back to meet him.
Kazuha notices it, his eyes going soft, reaching up to cup your cheek with a gentleness that has absolutely no friggin business being here right now.
"See?" like he's been waiting this whole time to say it. "Isn't this better than leaving?"
You don't answer, you can't tell anymore if the withdrawal is talking or something worse.
He angled slightly – deeper, more deliberate – and your whole body lurches forward with it, the ropes catching you, swinging you right back onto him.
Sloppy sounds fill up the whole cabin until there's no room for anything else. Including your thoughts.
They keep arriving slower now, holding more weight, and you're not sure if you can keep holding onto hate anymore.
Or even remember why you were so upset in the first place.
He feels it immediately – the shift in you. Kazuha has always been terrifyingly good at reading things.
Wind.
Weather...The exact moment you're about to stop denying him.
"Ah-" You gasp- he grinds into your poor, bruised g-spot. "I-i… m’still f-fuckin’ angryy–"
"Of course," kissing up your neck, he inhaled deeply, smiling against you, "You're allowed to be."
"That's not-" A whine punches out of you when he rolls his hips just so. "That's not what I– ngh– t-that's not the point!—"
"Then what is my love?"
And you open your mouth to tell him. You have the answer…you know you do, it was right there a moment ago, something about how wrong this is, something about him taking your vision, something about how this isn't what you wanted.
His shaft drags slowww and thoroughly across that spot inside you, and every single word dissolves.
"Hm~?" Kazuha waits expectantly as the thoughts leave your face, morphing into something that isn't guilt anymore.
"It's alright." He presses a kiss to your temple. "You don't have to say it."
…He's already decided, somewhere in that poetic, completely unwell little heart of his, that this is love. That this is the right thing, that you'll understand eventually.
"Fuhck- ah! Kazu—" hips rolling back to meet him before you even register doing it—He shivers a single tremor moving through that carefully composed body, his breath catching audibly.
His rhythm stutters for just a fraction of a second. And then it happens — the thing he's been holding back since he tied you in the boats for days now.
"Y-you feel—" He stops, then tries again. "You feel so—" he really can't finish it.
Those eyes have gone somewhere glassy and distant — still looking at you, but seeing something past the surface of you, something he's been navigating toward for a very long time-
Both arms wrapping around you, silk ropes and all, folding you into him like something he's been holding in his hands for years and is only now allowing himself to keep.
His cock pulses deep. His breath comes apart completely.
"Don't leave," he moans into your hair, and it’s not a request or a command either. He’s already made up his mind and refuses to be argued with. “Don't leave. Don't leave. Don't—"
Your mouth falls slack, and you bring what little energy you have to bite into your fist as you scream, cumming all over his shaft.
Your walls clenching around him, as a sound slipped out, one you're sure you’ll be embarrassed about later.
Kazuha grunts, a hand jumping to his mouth, trying not to be loud.
Juices connecting you two, losing the careful rhythm entirely, and then he's shuddering against you, spilling deep, face buried in your neck, lips moving against your skin in something that might be your name or might be an unhinged poem or both.
Your vision flickers once behind him…going out.
…
The boat rocks gently in the silence that follows, his arms wrapped around you, holding you softly.
After a long moment, you hear him sigh.
"Im sorry..." A pause. "I just thought this was kinder."
🐊 KINICH — Got his lick back
SMACK!
"AH—!"
The sharp crack of his palm against your ass echoes through the room like a hunter’s whip.
Your cry breaks out raw and humiliating, but Kinich doesn’t give you a second to breathe. His hand stays glued to the stinging flesh, squeezing hard enough to feel the heat bloom under his fingers while his other hand slides between your slick thighs.
“Spread.” Flat. Commanding. No room for argument.
You don’t.
So he forces you anyway — two fingers pushing past your dripping folds, stretching you open with that terrifying precision, curling right against the soft, spongy spot that makes your vision spark white.
The second your hips jerk forward to escape, his fist locks into your hair and yanks you right back onto his lap like a leash.
“Already this wet?” A low, almost thoughtful hum leaves him as he pulls his fingers free.
A thick, glossy string of your slick stretches between your hole and his fingertip, catching the low light.
“Running again… but your pussy keeps begging me to stay.”
You try to snap something back — anything — but he’s already lining up. The flared, swollen head of his cock nudges against your entrance once, twice, then pushes in with one merciless slide that steals every word from your throat.
“F-fuck- Kinich-!”
He bottoms out in one smooth glide, stretching you wide around his thick length until you feel him pressing right against the entrance of your womb.
Buried deep, letting your walls flutter and clench desperately around him while his breath ghosts hot against the back of your neck.
“You keep running,” he says quietly, almost thoughtfully, as he pulls back just enough to slam in again. The wet slap of skin on skin is filthy.
“Every time I tell you to stay. Every time you look at me like you’re already gone.”
SMACK!
Your body jerks hard at the next spank, a broken cry ripping from your throat.
Before you can crawl away, his arm hooks around your waist and hauls you right back down onto his cock, pinning you flat to the slick floor. The woven texture bites into your tits and stomach as he forces you to take every brutal inch.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he growls low, the first real crack in that calm tone.
His hips snap forward harder, cockhead smacking mercilessly into your cunt with every precise thrust. “You’re not leaving Natlan. Not again.”
Smooth, deep rolls of his hips that drag his veiny length along every sensitive ridge inside you. Your voice climbs higher, cracking on whimpers you can’t swallow down.
Drool slips from the corner of your mouth onto the floor while your thighs shake violently.
“Kinich-! puhleaseeee- it’s too much—”
“It’s not.” Another punishing thrust. “You can take it. You will.”
His hand snakes underneath you, fingers finding your swollen clit.
He pinches and rolls merciless little circles that have your walls clamping down around his cock like a vice. Your whole body seizes, pussy gushing slick down his length as he keeps fucking you through it.
“Don’t know why- Ngh-,” he rasps against your neck, voice fraying at the edges now, breath coming shorter. “Y’kept leaving me. Why ya- won’t stay put. ”
"Th-that's not— ah— that's not your problem!-"
"You made it my problem." A thrust that punches the air clean out of you. “So I found a solution. Gonna fill this tight little cunt until you’re swollen with my kid. Then you won’t have a choice.”
The words hit you like lightning. Your mind blanks for a second– “Wai-what—”
His cock swirls deep.
Pushing deeeep, his fingers pick up pace on your clit, dragging you toward something you've been denying this whole time, your walls fluttering desperately, your voice climbing so high it cracks—“No!- t-that’s genuinely insane!”
"It isn’t." He held a small, satisfied smile.
"That’s not a solution, that’s literally—fuckkkk!"
But your body betrays you completely, cutting you off. Your walls flutter wildly around him, milking his cock as a devastating orgasm rips through you.
You came hard, screaming into the floor, tears streaming, thighs clamping shut around his hand while your pussy spasms and gushes.
Kinich groans low, the sound raw and animalistic, the first time that perfect hunter composure truly fractures.
His hips stutter once, twice, then he buries himself to the hilt with a sharp snap, pressing so deep you swear you feel him in your throat.
“HNGH!—”
Thick, hot ropes of cum flood your womb — pulse after heavy pulse, so much and so warm it spills out around his pulsing cock almost instantly, smearing sticky and obscene between your bodies.
Grinding deep through every wave, slow and deliberate, like he’s determined to push every drop as far inside you as physically possible.
His arm stays locked tight around your middle, tattooed bicep flexing against your stomach, holding you exactly where he wants you.
“…Your body thinks it’s a perfect solution,” he breathes against your sweat-damp neck, voice hoarse but still terrifyingly calm. “Stop fighting it.”
You’re still shaking, still fluttering around his spent cock, when the reality crashes back in.
Tears prick hot at the corners of your eyes as you try to twist away from him, voice cracking with raw upset.
“No,” you choke out, voice hoarse and furious even while your pussy keeps weakly clenching around him like it’s trying to keep every drop he just gave you.
“I’m not getting pregnant. I’m not letting you trap me like this— you can’t just- you can’t-”
He doesn’t pull out.
If anything, Kinich sinks a little deeper, grinding the head of his cock against your overfilled cervix like he’s sealing it. His lips brush the shell of your ear, calm as ever, but the grip on your waist tightens possessively.
“You already are,” he stares, almost fondly. “Or you will be. Soon.”
You pushed him off hard, “Like hell–”
.
.
🐊
A month later, the humid air inside the Scions of Canopys midwife’s hut feels too thick to breathe.
You’re sitting on the low mat, knees drawn tight together like that might somehow undo everything, while the older woman hums softly and presses careful fingers along your lower belly.
Nausea still clings to the back of your throat. Your breasts ache. Certain smells make you want to retch.
You already know what she’s going to say.
Your captor behind you like a silent sentinel — arms loosely crossed, green-gold eyes half-lidded but missing nothing.
The midwife finally sits back on her heels, expression unreadable for a long beat.
“Congratulations! You're expecting,” she says, no question in her voice, your stomach dropping.
“It seems you're a month along, oh! The baby is healthy…you would be due…”
As the midwife drones on and on, pointing at the chart, you craned your head to glare at Kinich meeting his expectant gaze.
His expression, for once, was readable, and it only conveyed one thing:
‘You can deny it all you want, you’re stuck.’
🐊 LOHEN — Denial is a river
“LOHEN LET ME DOWN—YOU DONE LOST YO MIND.”
You thrashed wildly, hanging upside down from the thick rope coiled tight around your ankle.
The world swayed in sickening circles, blood rushing straight to your head while your own heartbeat hammered in your ears.
Dignity? Gone. Long gone.
Meanwhile, Lohen was losing his shit.
Full-body, stomach-clenching laughter poured out of him as he bent over, one hand braced on his knee, as if he might actually collapse from how hilarious you were.
Red eyes squinted with pure delight, tears pricking at the corners while he wheezed.
“HA- holy shit!-” He dragged in a gasping breath, still grinning like a maniac. “You really walked straight into that one. Fuck, you’re adorable.~”
He finally straightened up and stalked closer, head tilted as he studied your flushed, upside-down face.
That manic little smile curled slowly and hungrily across his lips, one that promised nothing good.
“You actually thought you could escape me?” he cooed, voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Cute. Real cute.”
You glared hard enough to burn holes through him.
Lohen only stepped even closer, until he was right in front of your swaying body.
Two fingers reached out and squished your cheeks together like you were some grumpy little creature he’d caught.
“Look at that face,~” he sang, eyes sparkling with pure unhinged joy.
You jerked your head and sank your teeth into his thumb — hard.
A low, genuine, filthy sound punched straight out of his chest. His eyes fluttered, lashes kissing his cheeks.
You pulled back, staring at him in pure disgust and disbelief.
He stared right back, looking almost surprised at himself for half a second… before that wild grin crawled back onto his face, twice as wide.
“Fuck I think I just came a bit…Do that again.”
This fucking freak
His hand finds your face again - cradles it, almost, which was somehow more unsettling than if he'd gripped it.
Thumb pressing into your cheek while your head kept spinning, and the rope creaked above you.
“You’re turning such a pretty shade.~” voice soft and sweet like poison. “Wow, are ya really that happy I’m touching you?”
“YOU PSYCHOTIC LITTLE—”
“Mhm,” Lohen cut you off smoothly, not even listening. His eyes dragged over you slowly and warmly, completely shameless. “Most people would’ve seen the rope, y’know,” he said, like you weren’t literally hanging upside down from his trap.
“Well, most people aren’t being fucking hunted-”
“Nope.” His thumb traced the line of your jaw, gentle and obsessive all at once.
“Just you… ‘cause iiiii loooove yooouuu.~” He drew the words out in that obnoxious, singsong way that made your skin crawl and your stomach flip at the same time.
You rolled your eyes so hard it made you dizzy.
Lohen hummed, tilting his head as he watched you sway.
That dangerous little smile never left his face while he tapped one finger against his chin like he was thinking.
“Now~” he purred, smirk widening with wicked promise.
“How should we fix that nasty little attitude of yours…?”
Fuck
.
.
🐊
“Cmon what are ya waitingggg forrr?”
You’re straddling him, completely humiliated, his thick cock buried to the hilt inside you while he lounges back like he doesn’t have a single care in the world.
Hands tucked lazily behind his head, mint-green hair splayed wild across the grass, that damn beauty mark crinkling as he grins up at you with pure psychotic delight.
You’re not moving.
Not one fucking inch, half out of overstimulation, half out of pure spite.
SMACK!
His palm cracks hard across your ass, the sharp sting making you jerk upward with a broken yelp.
The sudden movement drags your dripping walls along every veiny inch of him, Lohen moaning loud and shameless beneath you, biting his lips like he just tasted heaven.
“There ya gooo~” he coos, voice syrupy sweet with fake innocence. “See? Wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“I fuckin’ hate you—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he laughs, low and wheezy, eyes sparkling as he tracks every furious twitch on your face. “You gonna move properly, or do I gotta smack that pretty ass red again?”
You barely move.
Slow. Grudging.
The most resentful little roll of your hips that’s ever existed.
Throwing his head back he bursts into loud, unhinged laughter. “HAHAAH— fuck, look at you! So madddd~ So fucking upset and still creaming all over my cock.”
“Are you deadass right now-? Of course I’m mad-!”
“Faster.”
“What—?”
“Faster,” he repeats helpfully, tilting his head with that manic little grin. “You’re going reeeaaally slow, baby. My dick’s getting bored.”
You’re going to kill him.
Fuck it.
You’re going to cum and then kill him.
But your cunt says otherwise, pussy fluttering and sucking greedily around his thick length, no matter how much you glare at him.
Lohen’s eyes darken with hungry delight. He suddenly sits up, arms wrapping around your waist like steel bands, yanking you down flush against his chest.
Shaft grinding deep, bullying right against that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision spark white.
“F—fuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth, that primal edge slipping into his voice. “One more, yeah? Just one more f'me, pretty thing.”
“Lohen, you’ve said that,” You batted your eyes, fighting the pleasure, “-for hours, lemme go!”
“Mmm, doesn’t sound like an answer,” he purrs, rolling his hips up in a filthy, precise way that makes your toes curl. “Doesn’t sound like you’re saying no to me.”
He doesn’t even wait for your reply.
His forearms hook under your thighs, spreading you wide open like a ragdoll as he starts rutting up into you harder.
Wet, sloppy sounds fill the air with every thrust — squelch-squelch-squelch — his cockhead kissing your cervix over and over like he’s trying to knock right through it.
“Hm? Hah- mmph!, seems like someone agrees with me.~” he laughs breathlessly against your ear, nipping at the shell with sharp teeth. “Your pussy’s the one begging for more. Greedy little thing keeps gulping me down like she never wants me to leave.~”
You try to squirm, try to plant your feet and lift off him even a little, but Lohen just tightens his grip and fucks up into you even meaner, bouncing you on his cock like you weigh nothing.
“Hahhh?? Running again~?” he tuts, voice mockingly sweet. “Nahhh, we still got s’much more rounds to go, baby. Five? Or is it six? I lost count already.”
Your mind was blanking out; you've been doing this for so long, you couldn’t even form coherent sentences. “Fuh- no- mgh- I’m d-done!”
"Your pussy's not done~."
“My- p-puhssy–! Don’t getta vote!” You shatter instantly — eyes rolling back, a broken scream ripping out of you as your sixth orgasm crashes through your exhausted body.
Lohen screams loudly while your walls milk him tight, but he doesn’t stop.
“Ohh-Fuck fuck fuck! Here’s ah!- another one, baby!-” Cumming hard with you, filling you up - he keeps thrusting through your high, chasing every last flutter like a man possessed.
Thick, hot ropes of cum flooding your already overstuffed cunt. Grinding deeper, chasing every last flutter like a man completely possessed.
“Mmm—hah, there it is,~” he moans happily, beauty mark crinkling as he grins against your sweat-slick neck. Mint-green hair sticks to his forehead, messy and wild. “Good girl. That wasn’t for you, though~ That was all for this pretty pussy of mine.”
You’re sobbing now, chest heaving, body twitching uncontrollably in his lap. But Lohen just keeps bouncing you on his still-hard cock, slow and filthy, like he could do this forever.
“And she’s telling me…” he drawls, voice sing-song dropping into something darker, more dangerous, lips brushing your ear, “that you can handle three more.♡”
You flop forward against his chest, boneless and whimpering, barely able to hold yourself up. “A-asshole… h-hate you…”
Lohen’s manic laughter rings in your ear as he flips you onto your back in one smooth motion, never once letting his cock slip out of your spasming heat.
“Keep fighting it, baby. Keep telling me how much you hate me.” He leans down, eyes glowing with lovesick affection as he starts pounding you into the grass. “Makes my dick so fucking hard when you lie like that.”
You cry out, nails raking down his back as he folds you nearly in half, knees pressed to your chest.
Every thrust is loud, messy, obscene — the constant squelch of his cum being fucked deeper into you, the slap of skin, your broken sobs mixing with his breathless laughter.
“Look at her,” he coos, glancing down between your bodies where his cock disappears into your puffy, cream-filled pussy. “Still sucking me in so hungrily. Seems like she doesn’t wanna let go, does she?”
“Stop- I can’t-!!”
“You can,” he laughs softly, leaning down to bite your bottom lip. “And you will. ‘Cause every time you say you’re done… this cute cunt just begs for more.”
Picking up speed, pounding you into the grass with relentless, mind-melting strokes. Staring straight into your tear-filled eyes, beauty mark crinkling with that same unhinged grin.
“Three more, f’me baby. Then maybe- maybe I’ll let ya rest.~” His hands push your legs up to your head, angling deeper, making your eyes roll.
“Or maybe I’ll just keep going until you forget how to say the word ‘no’ at all.~”
🐊 LYNEY — Hole dirtier than laundry!
You're so sure you're going to fucking suffocate at this rate.
Lyney’s perched on your face like he weighs nothing, knees planted on either side of your head in the middle of his messy bed, sheets already twisted and half-pulled off the mattress.
That skimpy little lingerie set he’d been hiding under his coat all evening still clinging to his slender frame—purple lace stretched taut over his flushed cock, the thin strap of the thong shoved to the side so his pretty, leaking hole could sit right against your mouth.
The fabric’s soaked through already and so is he.
He’d wanted this for weeks.
The filthy thought had lived rent-free in that pretty head of his ever since the first time you turned your face away from his goodnight kiss.
Then again, when you shoved his hand off your waist.
Then again, when you told him to “fuck off” like it was nothing.
Every denial made it worse.
He got nervous—actually nervous—thinking you’d hate it.
That you’d push him off and call him disgusting for wanting something so selfish, so greedy.
But tonight you’d denied him one too many times, pushed him away with that same cold little glare, and this was the perfect excuse.
Discipline
Clean. Simple.
He could finally do it and blame you for making him snap.
Except he's the one losing his breath — soft, shaky exhales spilling from those painted lips every time your tongue brushes against his rim. That carefully constructed composure dissolves, piece by piece, every time you move beneath him.
“Mmmh—!” He grinds down harder, your hands flailing against his thighs, nails digging into lace and soft skin. “Cat got your tongue, mon amour~?”
His voice is all theatrical breathiness, that signature charm cracking at the edges.
Shifting his weight just enough for you to gasp in a desperate breath, only to sink back down again — ass firmly planted on your face, rolling his hips in slow, filthy circles.
The wet heat of his hole drags over your lips, your tongue, smearing slick and lube everywhere.
The sound Lyney makes when you're forced to lick him is loud enough that the entire wing's probably filing a noise complaint right now.
Ash-blond hair with that tiny braid falls messily around his face, violet eyes fluttering shut, cat-like pupils blown wide.
“F-fuck… just like- that!—ngh!”
His slender fingers fist the sheets above your head, hips twitching every time your tongue pushes inside.
“D-didn’t think you’d be so… eager to clean me up after all those- ah! Nasty words you threw at me this week. You sure you didn’t want this?~”
He laughs breathless, a little unhinged—and the sound melts into another whimper when you suck on his rim trying to get air.
The lingerie thong keeps slipping back into place, and he has to keep tugging it aside with shaky fingers, the lace now completely drenched.
"Haah — look at you. Flailing around.~" Another slow grind, deliberate and mean, his cock twitching hard against the lace as it leaks onto his stomach. "But you're not pushing me off, are you? No… you're licking deeper. Mmph!~."
You thrash hard, punching at his thighs, trying to get this sick man off your face. He either mistakes it for enthusiasm or simply doesn't care — the effect is the same.
His thighs shake harder, athletic muscles flexing as he rides your tongue with more urgency. That guarded side is completely gone.
Replaced by something rawer.
The need to be wanted so badly that it overrides everything else.
"Keep going, mon amour," he pants, voice pitching higher, "because if you stop — hngh — I swear I'll sit here until morning. Until you forget every nasty word you said to me… and only remember this."
His fingers thread into your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your face exactly where he wants it.
Not until he’s satisfied. Not until you’re his again—completely.
He can feel it building — hot, coiling, dangerous. And he refuses to finish like this, not when he hasn't taken everything.
With a shaky laugh that doesn't quite hide the edge beneath it, Lyney finally lifts off your face — justttt enough for you to drag in a ragged breath, spit and slick smeared across your lips.
Lungs burning as you try to speak—“Lyney, wait—” and before you can get a single word out-
His cock impales your mouth in one smooth thrust—thick, leaking, stretching your lips wide around the base of his shaft.
You choke instantly, eyes watering, the sudden fullness reducing every word you had to a wet gluck-gluck-gluck.
His thighs lock firmly beside your head. "Mmmph — there we go." He rocks into your throat with shallow, greedy thrusts, voice dropping as his face disappears between your thighs. "That's it. Let me feel how sorry you are."
Leaning down his tongue is immediate and merciless — lapping, sucking, flicking over your clit with a precision that feels almost unfair.
One hand grips your thigh hard enough to bruise. The other presses flat against your stomach, pinning you exactly where he wants you.
You push at his hips, a muffled protest vibrating around his length — he just rolls deeper, unhurried, his cock fucks your mouth in the same rhythm.
The room echoes with the wet sounds of him thrusting into your throat, mixed with the slurps of his mouth on your cunt.
"Don't- fight it, mon amour," he groans against your spreaded folds, the words vibrating straight into your core. "You don't get to push me away anymore. Not after all those mean words."
He sucks hard on your clit, hips stuttering as he holds back his own orgasm. "Not after telling me to leave like I'm nothing."
The lace thong is still tangled around his balls, rubbing against the bridge of your nose with every shallow thrust. His tongue curls, teasing your entrance before plunging inside—matching the way his cock bullies the back of your throat.
Your moans of reluctant protest are drowned out by his cock, completely overstimulated by how much of him you're feeling at once.
Every thrust pushes him deeper, every swirl of his tongue makes your legs shake. Whimpering into your cunt, the sound vibrating through you, but the words that slip out between licks are pure silk-wrapped venom.
"If I have to do this every night until you stop denying me—" A sharp suck on your clit. "—then I will."
His cock throbs heavily on your tongue. "I'll keep you right here. Until the only thing you know how to do is stay."
You try to pull off—hands slapping at his hips, a broken sob ripping from your throat around his shaft—but he just angles deeper.
The filthy gluck-gluck-gluck of him fucking your mouth fills your brain, your eyes streaming tears that mix with the spit dripping down your chin.
And he doesn’t stop, tongue lashes harder between your folds, sucking your clit into his mouth with a lewd pop! before flattening it again.
Mean. Possessive. Trying to pull your orgasm out by force.
Your thighs shake around his head, hips jerking up involuntarily as the pressure coils tighter-too much, too fast, too-
You cum with a shattered cry that vibrates straight down his cock.
Creamy slick gushes over his tongue, thighs clamping around his ears, and Lyney moans like he’s the one breaking. Holding himself right there on the edge—cock twitching wildly in your throat—until your walls start fluttering hard.
“F-fuck—ngh, that’s it—give it to me-”
His cock pulses hard on your tongue, swelling thicker, and then he’s cumming too.
Rope after rope shoots straight down your throat, thick and hot, until you’re choking on it, coughing up his seed around the length still buried between your lips.
He doesn’t pull out. Just keeps shallow-thrusting through it, forcing you to swallow every drop while he drinks you down like he’s dying of thirst.
The room spins. Your lungs burn. Tears won’t stop. While Lyney stays there a second longer, chest heaving, hips still twitching with the aftershocks.
Panting, he eased cock from your mouth with a slurp!
Strings of cum and spit connect your swollen lips to his tip. Lyney watches it break with half-lidded violet eyes, his cheek flushed red.
You’re still sobbing softly, chest heaving, when he finally flips around. He curls over you, pressing soft kisses to your tear-streaked cheeks, your trembling lips, like he didn’t just fuck your face and sit on you for "punishment".
“Shhh… mon amour,” he whispers, voice sweet as sugar, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “See? Wasn’t so bad. You took me so well… my perfect little assistant.”
Lyney's fingers thread back into your hair, holding you there as he nuzzles against your neck.
“You’re not going anywhere tonight.” A soft, theatrical little laugh brushes your ear.
“Or tomorrow.”
He kisses the corner of your mouth, tasting himself on you.
“Or ever.”
🐊 XIAO — Bite first. Regret later
BAM!
"I'm leaving- ” The wall meets your back before you finish the sentence. “-Xiao. I mean it this–"
The impact rattled your teeth, your breath was punched clean out of your lungs, he was just across the room, teleporting in a haze of green and black, shoving you against the wall.
Another sharp gasp to follow when Xiao drove into you again, deeper, meaner, like he was trying to carve his place inside you permanently.
This is the problem.
This has always been the problem.
He doesn't talk to you, doesn't tell you he needs you, doesn't acknowledge what this even is, what you are to him — just pulls you close when it gets too heavy and expects that to be enough.
Weeks of silence.
Weeks of watching him look straight through you like you're something precious he refuses to name because naming it would make it real, and real things can be taken away.
You're exhausted.
Your legs stayed locked tight around his narrow waist, thighs trembling violently.
"I—" You push at his shoulders. He doesn't move. "Stop. I said I'm leaving—"
The only thing keeping you from sliding down the wall was his iron grip on your ass, fingers imprinting in so deep you knew they’d leave bruises shaped like his hands for days.
Xiao doesn’t respond, no words, or explanation — just eyes burning with determined focus
The tattoo on his arm bleeds green into the dark.
"Let me go." Flat. Furious. You dig your nails in hard. "I- ah! Mean it! I'm n-not doing this anymore, I can't keep– pretending-!"
He looks at you.
Amber eyes completely unguarded for once — staring at you like you've already got one foot out the door and he's watching it happen and he still, still cannot make himself say the words that would fix it. Jaw locked tight, breathing ragged.
Hitting that little spot inside you, your whole argument stutters. "That's not—"
You try to hold onto the thread of it. "That's not good enough, you can't just — this doesn't fix anything—"
He drives deeper. Your back hits the wall harder.
"Xiao!"
Nothing.
Just that devastating eye contact and the brutal, relentless pace of him, he's decided if he can't say it, he'll just make you feel it instead.
Your nails rake down his arms. "Oh-! This is- fuck! Insane. Shit! Your hurtin!- You can't keep doing this and expect me to stay!-" You twist, trying to get leverage.
His hand wraps around your throat, forehead dropping to yours, eyes closing, and he stays there breathing hard while his hips find a slower, deeper angle that makes your vision dissolve at the edges.
The weight of his karmic debt presses down on the room like a physical thing. Ozone and something older, darker, filling your lungs with every breath.
You're furious, shaking, and overwhelmed.
But believe it or not, he was terrified of hurting you.
And yet he couldn’t stop.
"Shit, what do you want from me!?"
Instead of answering, he just bites down on your throat instead. Sharp. Claiming. So suddenly, your whole body arches into him against every intention you had.
A broken sound tears out of you—high and pathetic—and you immediately hate yourself for letting it slip.
Teeth sinking in harder, not enough to break skin but enough to mark, enough to own, and your cunt clenches around him so violently it makes him stutter.
Yanking you up higher, forcing your back to scrape against the wall, making you cry out in pain- as he drives in deeper.
The anger frays at the edges where the pleasure keeps burning straight through—white-hot and unforgiving.
“I h-hate you-” you gasp. Not true. Completely not true, and you both know it.
“You’re so—” Another broken moan cuts you off, raw and humiliating. “Infuriating.”
He makes a sound against your neck. Low. Pained. Even that tiny admission costs him something precious.
Still nothing.
You’re crying now—angry tears spilling hot and fast down your face, your body betraying you completely as he drives you up the wall again and again.
Each thrust shoves you higher toward something you don’t want to give him.
“Please,” you break, hating how small and wrecked it comes out. “Please just say it. Tell me you need me. Tell me I’m—that I’m yours, that this means something, that you’re not just going to let me disappear one day and feel nothing—” His entire body goes rigid.
Exhaling, his hand slides from your throat to cradle the back of your head.
His forehead presses so hard to yours it almost hurts, eyes squeezed shut, hips grinding deep and slow and devastatingly deliberate now.
Every roll of his hips drags his cock against that spot inside you that makes your toes curl and your vision spark white.
He still doesn’t say it, waiting for you to say exactly what he wants to hear.
Xiao pulls you in so tight you can’t tell where he ends, and you begin anymore. Your breast presses hard against his chest, breath coming in short gasps from how tight he’s holding you, bruises already beginning to bloom.
Maybe...
“I’m staying,” you whisper, defeated, wrecked, voice cracking on every syllable. “I-i’m yours. I’m not leaving. Just—don’t let go.”
The sound he makes is quiet.
Devastated and relieved in a way that breaks your heart a little. He comes with his face buried in your neck, shaking hard, one arm locked around your waist like even now he doesn’t trust you won’t vanish.
Thick, hot ropes of cum flood you—spurt after spurt—while his teeth stay sunk into your throat, muffling the broken groan that vibrates against your skin.
He keeps rolling through it, slow and possessive, making sure every drop stays deep inside you.
Afterward, the room is just breathing. Heavy. Sticky. Charged. Then, so quiet it barely exists:
“…Again.”
Not another round, you know that.
He wants to hear it again—the words he can’t say himself, confirmed in your voice, real and present and not leaving.
“I’m yours, Xiao.” You press your lips to his temple, voice hoarse and trembling. “I’m staying.”
His grip tightens instantly. Fingers digging back into your ass, cock still buried to the hilt and twitching inside you like it’s trying to root there forever.
Xiao still doesn’t say it back; you already know how he feels.
The dark, suffocating truth that settles in the quiet—in the iron grip of his arms and the door you both know he’d never let you reach—is that staying was never really your choice to make.
It stopped being your choice a long time ago.
…Some sick, exhausted piece of you doesn’t even want the choice anymore.
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