✃𓄧꒷꒦ • I’m also willing to GENUINELY write about anything just as long as it’s not insect, r@p3, etc .
𝕬𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖙 ☣︎
- hii !! i’m not as active as much on tumblr as i’m busy with my own personal life !! 💔 i’m genuinely trying my best to be a consistent writer, but again I have other things and not enough energy.
- For starters, my name is rae (irl and online) i’m not trying to leak my full name because I don’t want my irls to find my account just in case.. Except for the ones I give my account too!!
— my page mostly consists of smut content! if that isn’t for you, thats okay! I do write fluff and angst too!
+ I’ve also been writing since 2020, Wattpad was a TOUGH time .. specifically the dream smp dnf era ..
— if you couldn’t already tell, I am TOBIAS ERIN ROGERS AND GERARD ARTHUR WAY fucking SWEAT. I will mostly be writing about them !!
— I have a lot of interests & love music loads !! Obviously Creepypasta is one of them , it’s probably one of my longest and biggest obsession. My favorite bands are My Chemical Romance, Silverstein, and Get Scared !!
catboy!choso was much nicer than any of the other hybrids you had cared for before. He was well-mannered enough that you didn't have to worry about leaving him alone when going to your office, lest the sofa be ripped into pieces (courtesy of the last hybrid you'd taken in).
catboy!choso who cleaned up after himself, making sure that his corner of the room remained tidy. Though it didn't really matter, since he ended up sleeping next to you on the bed most days.
catboy!choso who was polite whenever guests came over, going to your joint room unless you specifically asked him to come outside and spend time with the group. You knew he was more of an introvert, so you let him off most of the time.
catboy!choso who was not as good as you thought.
catboy!choso who was having an innocent conversation with you, sitting next to you while you scrolled on your delivery app for a new catbed. The conversation was mindless, talking about the differences between a hybrid and a normal pet, when you brought up a collar.
catboy!choso whose eyes dilated for a few seconds before he fixed his face, looking somewhere else and hoping that you hadn't noticed. But of course you had, sneakily storing it in your mind.
catboy!choso whose heat was at the worst possible time ever. Right on the weekend the two of you had planned to go out, he'd woken up with a horrible boner and your scent amplified tenfold.
catboy!choso who apologized to you a hundred million times while sequestering himself in his bed, pillows surrounding him like protective walls so that he wouldn't climb you. It wasn't like you hadn't helped him in other heat cycles, but this one felt especially bad.
catboy!choso who smelt the delivery driver outside the door before he rang the bell, tail twisting in confusion when he saw only a singular box in his hand. You didn't usually order things unless you were getting a heapful.
catboy!choso who was now lying on the bed with tears of pleasure in his eyes, while you probably gave him the ride of his life. His clothes lay discarded on the floor somewhere, and around his neck was a pretty lace collar. You had a matching lace leash that was wrapped around your fist, the baby pink material soft against your skin.
catboy!choso whose leash got tugged harshly every time his mewls got too loud. His neck feels sore, but he wouldn't be anywhere else; the rush of the oxygen getting cut off for a few seconds was just amazing. Once or twice, he'd let out a louder sound on purpose, just so you could punish him with a pull.
catboy!choso who's lost count of how many times he's cum inside of you, minutes blurred against hours. He didn't want to stop, and neither did you, with the way that your hips moved against his deliciously. After his voice had gotten sore and you had no way to punish him for being loud, you had decided to tug his leash on random, whenever you pleased. The lace around his neck had already started to fray, and you reminded yourself to buy a whole pack after you were done with him.
catboy!choso whose leash was tied to the bedpost after your hand had started getting sore, taut just enough to continuously choke him in the perfect way. Usually, he'd like to be the one drilling into you, but he would prefer to be under you in this situation forever. God knew how you hadn't tired yet, because he was pretty sure he'd cum blanks three times already.
catboy!choso now wears his collar everywhere around the house in hopes of getting laid.
catboy!choso who can't wait for his next heat cycle.
Not only was he a douche, he was a douche who didn't think. And not only was he a douche who didn't think, he was a douche who didn't think about anyone but himself.
You were so mad, waiting near the bus stop— arms wrapped into each other in hopes of warming yourself up. Your fingers tapped against your skin with a frantic frequency, trying to stop your thoughts from wandering.
You sniffled, taking a deep breath to not let the tears drop. Mind you, you were mostly sad for the sheer effort you've put in. Well, mostly.
When the familiar engine sound reached your ears, you turned your head toward the noise.
There he was. Your savior.
He gave you a taunting grin through the helmet, lifting his visor up.
"Told ya it wouldn't work, didn't I?"
A vein popped in your forehead, and you hit his shoulder. Despite his teasing, you knew you didn't have a choice other than to sit behind him and go home. Suck it up, his eyes seemed to tell you.
You were impatiently waiting for him to start the damn vehicle again, but he was taking his time taking his jacket off— wait, what?
His dark navy blue leather jacket was shrugged off, draped carelessly over your shoulders to shield you from the wind. Your puzzled expression seemed to amuse him further, given how he didn't even bother to hide his cackle.
As you were so busy putting the jacket on, something dropped onto your head softly, clogging your vision. When you lifted your head, you flipped up the shield that was blocking your sight and found him giving you a smirk.
"Can't risk your big head falling and damaging the road now."
"You—!"
Good thing his helmet was now on you, which gave you the perfect opportunity to slap his head without any obstacles in the way.
He let out an insincere complaint of pain, which ended up with you pinching his waist. Getting the memo, he finally started the motorcycle again, though he didn't forget to grumble.
"And here I was thinking I was doing a good deed. Picking up my roommate after their horrendous date, giving my jacket, my helmet, my gasoline—"
Another pinch and he shut up. Finally!
The silence didn't bring you as much peace as you wanted. Your mind kept drifting back to earlier in the evening, until it was violently interrupted by a sudden force that almost made you fly off. If it weren't for your harsh grip onto his waist— particularly wrapping your arms around him entirely this time— you would have fallen.
You let out a yelp, the top of the helmet hitting his back with a hard thud. You knew he did this on purpose, that little shit!
But words died on your tongue when his hand found yours, giving them a gentle squeeze right where they connected.
"You know, I'd be a better boyfriend than him, right?"
summary: it's been a few days since lohen nearly got himself killed fighting rerir, and he's still under your care — convalescing, clingy, and shamelessly milking every second of it.
topics: lohen is down really bad, nsfw (morning & sleepy sex, vaginal penetration, a little bit of voyeurism i think), lightkeeper&medic!reader
[second part — after dark]
i think i'm making lightkeeper!reader agenda…,,,
english is not my first language. please correct me if i got something wrong, thank you!
A few days had passed since Lohen had been seriously beaten up by his fight with Rerir, and you had to admit he had never frustrated you and impressed you more than he did that day.
You happened to be stationed at the camp that time, filling in for a colleague from your unit. You didn't mind it, and it seemed like it was shaping up to be a genuinely peaceful day.
And then evening came, and Varka ran into the medical tent with Lohen on his back. Given how bloodsoaked Varka's clothes were, you were certain he was the injured one — until he laid the vice-captain down on the bed.
His condition was terrifying.
Had it not been for the fact that Lohen somehow still had his eyes open, his lips curving into a smile at the sight of you, you would have been certain you were only looking at his corpse. A moment later he naturally allowed himself to faint, now that he was aware he no longer had to try, because you would take care of him and keep him alive.
It took you the entire night to stabilize his condition. As an experienced and skilled medic, you had dealt with similar cases many times before, and even though you had been in a relationship with Lohen for some time now, you had managed to keep your emotions in check throughout. You knew that this damn idiot would live, because people like him always had luck on their side — but when, near dawn, another one of his wounds reopened, you could no longer hold back tears of frustration.
That was when Lohen woke up too. "I've died, haven't I? That's why I'm seeing an angel."
The tears of frustration turned into irritation, which you poured entirely onto Lohen for being reckless and irresponsible. You were so swollen inside with your own feelings, stress, and exhaustion that in the midst of it all, you didn't notice the expression on his face. This time he wasn't hiding his true emotions.
He knew perfectly well that he had failed: he had been too weak. He was a weak, insufficiently strong mortal. He had nearly gotten himself killed, and if not for Varka — and yet he had the audacity to claim he would be able to protect you?
But despite how absurdly furious you were with him, you were still incredibly proud of him. Surviving a clash with such a powerful anomaly and on top of that remaining conscious through kilometres of Varka's marathon with him on his back was already an enormous achievement. Most knights — or even Lightkeepers — wouldn't last even a minute on that battlefield.
Lohen listened to this with wide eyes while you wiped yours, tears still streaming down your face. He had expected everything: that you'd curse him out, call him a stupid, mindless idiot, that you might even break up with him. And while a genuinely unkind string of words did leave your mouth, he never would have thought you'd tell him that it wasn't luck that he survived.
Luck was for inexperienced, average knights. You, Lohen, are stubbornly and genuinely strong. If you had walked this earth as long as Varka, you would match him without hesitation. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re absolutely fucking idiot.
After those words, Lohen pretended to faint again, and you sighed, calmed yourself, stitched his wound closed once more, and then, completely spent, carefully lay down at his side in a way that wouldn't accidentally hurt him. You finally fell asleep, leaving him completely undone by your words.
While Lohen had already known before that you weren't going to let him go, he was now certain he had to somehow ensure that even after death, you would never know a moment's peace from him. Never again.
Tonight you were, of course, sleeping beside him again. Lohen hadn't even needed to push you into it (though he had been prepared to) because his condition was still poor and required constant monitoring. And for some reason he had become terribly clingy, so you'd had to temporarily abandon your duties — for which Varka had to pay Starshyna two of his knights to compensate for your absence from the team — in order to look after him. He was like a sick child who needed attention and comfort at every turn.
"Oh—Fuck," Lohen groaned quietly, waking from a very intense dream.
Dawn was nearly breaking when Lohen felt a painful erection straining against his trousers. Although his entire body ached, his libido, rather than dropping, had surged sharply — and the worst part was that he knew perfectly well why. He desired you more than usual after your recent words. You had appreciated him. You had unknowingly comforted him in the worst possible state he'd ever been in mentally. Now he needed to properly fuck you for it, or he felt like he'd die if he didn't do it soon.
For the past few nights he had somehow managed to restrain himself due to his limbs being non-functional, but today he felt significantly better. Before you had fallen asleep you had noticed that too — by the way he had wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close against him in the night.
Through a gap in the tent he could see that there was still enough time to deal with his peculiar problem, so without hesitation he got to work, slowly kissing along the back of your neck.
God, he really had missed being fully functional. The pathetic rubbing against your backside and breathing in your scent as he left damp kisses along your neck made him tremble with arousal. He needed you so badly, so desperately needed you, that he didn't even notice his grip becoming more and more possessive. It even briefly crossed his mind that if he had died that day, he would have resurrected solely to kill anyone who dared comfort you in his absence or try to take care of you. You were his and his alone — he would never let you go.
A soft, tender bite to your earlobe had your eyes fluttering open, drowsiness washing over you. For a moment you were certain you were still dreaming — until you felt a warm vibration against your ear.
"Good morning, nightingale," Lohen whispered, his left hand travelling from your waist to your thighs until it slipped beneath your nightgown. You let out a small squeak as your warm skin met his ice-cold fingers.
"Lohen, what the hell," you mumbled, flustered, immediately flushing. It wasn't the first time Lohen had shamelessly made a move on you, and you had no objections to it in principle — but not when the camp would soon be waking up, and when there was still a considerable risk that his body would suffer for it. "Go back to sleep, for archons sake."
"Mm, I don't think so," he chuckled, then dragged his fingers low enough to slide along your folds. You grabbed his hand to stop him, but he only threaded his fingers through yours, using your own hand to touch you through the fabric of your underwear. You inhaled sharply, and that set him alight even further. "I need to fuck you, archons. Fuck, let me do it, please."
As he said it, you felt his hardness pressing against your backside, his face still buried in the curve of your neck. His warm breath and lazy, languid kisses against your skin sent shivers through you. You glanced toward the gap in the tent and swallowed, noticing the light growing outside.
It hadn't escaped you that Lohen had asked. Never — not once in your life together — had you heard the word please from his lips. His low, hoarse voice, dripping with quiet desperation, sent an electric jolt down your abdomen and straight to your core.
"L-Lohen, fuck, we can't," you answered, trying to stop his hand. He stilled, and you turned your face slightly toward him to look at him. And that, honestly, was a mistake. You had never seen him more aroused or more hungry-looking — his eyes were practically devouring you, and if not for the fact that he couldn't make any sudden movements, he most certainly would have been fucking you already. "Everyone's about to wake up, first of all. And second of all, your wounds could reopen. Do you have any idea how much work goes into stitching them back up?" you added, pressing your thighs together to steady yourself.
Lohen, however, wasn't listening to a single word of your speech, staring at your face as though it were a painting. Fuck, those sleepy eyes of yours could send him to war — you were so unbearably endearing when you were still half asleep.
"We still have a little time, darling," he murmured, amused, moving his hand to your hip. He winced slightly with pain — and pleasure — when you tried to gently push him back, but it only created a delicious friction (and pain from his still-unhealed ribs). "Don't make me suffer. Take care of your patient."
"Lohen, for archons sake, you have a broken arm, broken ribs, a sprained ankle, massive unhealed wounds, and —"
"And a perfectly healthy cock," he finished for you, grinning roguishly. You rolled your eyes, so he moved his hand along your hip to your cheek, turning your head further toward him to kiss you tenderly.
Lohen kissed you in a thousand different ways. From stealing quick pecks in public when no one was looking, just to annoy you, all the way to intense attempts to steal the breath from your lungs when you were completely alone. Every time he was infuriatingly insufferable about it — he loved tormenting you, loved sucking on your lips until they grew sensitive and then biting them, often until they bled. He loved, to your endless exasperation, pushing his tongue as deep into your mouth as possible, as though he meant to devour your soul or somehow leave his mark inside you permanently.
Sometimes he kissed you as though the world was ending tomorrow, and sometimes he drew out your kisses in such a languid, unhurried manner, as though you had all the time in the world within your blissful little universe.
This time it felt like something in between — and you felt it through your entire body. A shiver passed through you.
When he pulled away, a thin thread of saliva lingering between you, he pressed his forehead to yours and stroked your face with his thumb. "You don't even realize how badly I need you right now."
Fuck. In your entire life you had always been quite good at being assertive. You also knew very well that you should be refusing him right now.
But the moment he said those words, looking into your eyes as though you were the only person capable of saving him from whatever was happening right now, or in his head in general — even you couldn't say no to him.
"Fuck—Alright," you said, at which he nearly lunged at you immediately, so you had to grab him by his choker to hold him in place. "But not here. Not like this. You'll reopen your wounds. We need to— Archons, come on, I'll help you up."
You propped yourself up on your elbows and hauled yourself off the cot, which had only been serving as a makeshift bed anyway. It was genuinely a miracle it had held two people, but apparently you were both within the weight limit.
Lohen obediently accepted your arm to lean on. Only then did you notice the sheer size of the tent in his trousers, and you swallowed. Archons — what had gotten him like this? Because this didn't look like his usual morning erection that showed up from time to time.
With slow, careful steps you shuffled over to the desk. You sat him down in the chair, checking that everything was alright and that nothing was hurting him. Even if it was, he was evidently hiding it well enough — so you sighed and sank to your knees to untie the drawstring of his pyjama trousers. He threaded his good hand through your hair, watching you with devotion, and exhaled sharply when his aching cock finally sprang free from his underwear.
You wrapped your fingers around him and stroked slowly a few times, and when you were just about to take him into your mouth, Lohen tugged on your hair to pull you back.
"As much as I'd love that — I actually, truly need to feel you, nightingale," he muttered, and his tone sounded as though he were drunk. God, you were genuinely starting to worry about him, but you couldn't deny that you loved hearing him admit it so openly. He always tried to draw those admissions out of you instead, often through methods that left you voiceless. "Fuck, I'm going to die if you don't start riding me right now."
You were too confused and still too half-asleep to tease him about it. Instead you swallowed, stood up, pulled your underwear down and off, and stepped toward him. You braced one hand against the arm of the chair, and he pulled you down into a deep, passionate kiss as he slowly guided you to sink down onto him.
You moaned into his mouth when you felt the head of him brush against your clit. You broke the kiss.
"L-Lohen, if you notice anyone coming near, we need to stop immediately," you started, looking at him seriously while he smiled at you with that wicked glint of his. "And we go slow. No unnecessary movements on your end, understood?"
He nodded — just get on with it already. He slid his hand beneath your nightgown and closed his fingers around your waist, and you took hold of the base of him and sank down, painstakingly slowly, until you felt all of him inside you.
You both breathed sharply into each other's mouths. Lohen didn't look away from your eyes for even a second, staring into them with an intense, consuming focus. You could have sworn he was already trembling, as though he were close — which made you hide your face shyly in the curve of his neck and wrap your arms around his. That sudden shyness of yours, and most likely the fear of being caught, only fuelled him further.
He nearly thrust his hips to set a proper pace, when your hand came down to his chest to hold him in place. He understood the message, so he tipped his head back against the chair and exhaled roughly as you set your own slow, sleepy rhythm.
"Fuck. You're going to kill me, sweetheart," he whispered.
Lohen's body was usually terribly cold — this time, though, you felt almost scorching heat radiating off his skin. You couldn't help it that your eyelids began to droop against his neck, desperately chasing after the last scraps of the sleep he had brutally stolen from you earlier. Still, you kept enough focus in your movements not to hurt him.
For Lohen, however, it was nothing short of torture. He genuinely, truly needed to drive into you as deep and as hard as he possibly could. He couldn't hold back the quiet, pained but deeply erotic sounds falling from his lips into your hair as you rode him like you were punishing him for something.
To find even a little relief, his fingers found your waist again — this time closing around the fabric of your nightgown rather than your skin, so as not to grip you too hard. He sensed that might read to you as a signal that something was wrong, and he absolutely did not want you to stop. The camp could come under attack right now and he still wouldn't pull himself out of your tight warmth. Not for anything.
"Ha—fuck, you feel too fucking good. You're taking me so well. I missed you so fucking much, nightingale," he said, almost deliriously.
He'd had relationships in his life, of course. And he liked sex. But he had never felt this matched with anyone the way he did with you. You awakened something animal in him — his libido had grown considerably since you had met, which was already absurd, and now it had somehow climbed even higher — and he simply could not keep his hands off you whenever he had the chance. You fucked like rabbits, and archons, Lohen had no idea how he had ever lived without you.
Thinking about it now, swallowed up by your wet, clenching walls, he thought he might have actually killed himself if you had rejected him that day. Not only had you thoroughly scrambled his mind to the point where he couldn't stop thinking about you — his body needed you the way someone needs something they've become addicted to. The thought that there could exist some reality in which he had tasted you and then lost you filled him with a sick, hollow dread.
He felt you quicken, as though you wanted to fuck those thoughts right out of him. In any other circumstances, being the masochist he was, he would have been absolutely beside himself with your pace. This was, technically, gentle sex — or at least it was supposed to be — and yet, purely because of his sexual frustration, he was whimpering and whining as though you were taking his virginity.
He helped you along a little with his hand, allowing for slightly deeper movements. You moaned against his collarbone, tightening your fingers on his neck and shoulder. Lohen growled low in his throat, feeling himself slowly approaching the edge — it was almost embarrassing, it had never happened to him this fast before.
"F-fuck, I'm close," he muttered, sounding completely delirious by now — which made you shudder, and with trembling, already-tired hips you gathered the last of your strength and pressed down harder, still maintaining that slow, sweet, sleepy rhythm. He groaned, feeling an overwhelming urge to sink his teeth into your neck to muffle the pathetic sounds coming out of his mouth. "I cannot f-fucking wait to — ah, fuck you properly. I-I won't let you go for fucking h-hours, sweetheart."
You clenched tighter around him at those words. Lohen's thighs were shaking with the effort of holding back from driving up into you with everything he had.
And then he heard footsteps.
He lifted his gaze toward the gap in the tent. Damn, it was already light enough outside — someone had evidently gotten up early. But he was so desperately close to his release, and he could feel from you that you were just as close. He pulled you in against him, sliding his hand to your back, and inhaled sharply through the pain as your chest pressed against his ribs. It blurred instantly with the pleasure, but he had done it solely to be able to better control the situation.
Your soft moans were echoing in his ears when someone suddenly approached the tent. Through the gap, one of the knights peered inside — as it happened, one of Lohen's own subordinates, Gunther — who went completely still at the sight.
Gunther made eye contact with Lohen and felt dread crash through him, but his body refused to obey, transfixed on the scene before him. He watched your hips rise and fall so enticingly on the vice-captain's cock, as though you were his own personal little plaything (oh, if only he knew it was Lohen who had been begging for access to you... and that if Lohen could have, he'd have been fucking you senseless himself already...). Your moans were absolutely beautiful, practically hypnotic. Fuck, you were worth every sin.
Your relationship with Lohen was a secret — not because you wanted to hide it, but because you didn't feel the need to announce it. You still had your respective duties, and some might consider it unprofessional, especially given the seniority of both your positions.
Remembering that, Lohen possessively bit down into your neck, holding eye contact with his cadet with sick satisfaction. Mine.
The unexpected bite made you nearly cry out with pleasure, clenching around him harder than you ever had before. He felt you come undone on his cock, felt how greedily you took all of him for yourself. And still your movements didn't stop — you kept going, carrying him over the edge too. As his own peak crested, Gunther had already fled, newly blessed with the sight of your climaxing body.
Lohen came inside you with an intensity that left you breathless — you could feel him filling you to the point where your eyes rolled back, your legs giving out from beneath you, undone by his drawn-out, low groan and the iron grip of his hands on your waist.
You collapsed against him, spent and unable to move, panting against his skin while he stroked your back soothingly.
"Thank you, doctor. I feel so much better," he laughed softly, and you pulled back to look at his face. He was completely flushed, his smile curled in a way you knew all too well. Like he'd just gotten away with something. Catching your suspicious look, he quickly pulled you into a tender kiss. "Fuuuuuck. Stay with me like this for a moment, nightingale."
"Y-you know I can't, Lohen, ugh, let me go," you wriggled out of his hold, reluctantly. Lohen let out a mournful groan as the warmth of you left him. You felt, with some embarrassment, his release beginning to trickle down your thigh, so you quickly pulled your underwear back on — though Lohen, as ever, looked thoroughly delighted by that sight, making you flustered. "Fucking clean yourself up, I'll be right back."
He rolled his eyes in amusement, then did exactly as you'd told him. You disappeared behind the curtain, and he heard the rustle of fabric — you were most likely getting yourself ready to start the day. The thought that you would be walking around all day with his release inside you made his cock pulse again.
He tipped his head back against the chair. Archons, have mercy. Heal me so I can fuck her soon properly.
When you returned from behind the curtain, you were already dressed for work. He smiled, almost boyishly, as you helped him back to bed with a perfectly composed, professional expression. A moment later the noise outside had already begun — the sounds of hungry, freshly woken knights making their way to breakfast. He could see you breathe out in relief, unaware that anyone had caught you at all.
"Sweetheart," Lohen addressed you, as you leaned over his bandages to check that everything was in order. "After breakfast, would you send Gunther to me? If you don't know who he is, you definitely know Ursula — just ask her to point him out. Tell him I have some duties to hand off to him."
You nodded, and just as you were about to leave, Lohen caught you by the back of the neck and pulled you down into a teasing, yet unbearably deep and almost longing kiss. Oh, there he is.
"I'll bring you coffee with breakfast. I think you can have caffeine again by now," you murmured as you pulled away.
"What would I ever do without you, darling?" he smiled sweetly, a knowing glint in his eyes. "You're the best."
Summary: His way of courting you (more yandere tendencies).
This kinda popped into my head like two days ago. Wanted to upload it while working on a Lohen specific request :) (Also I may link my socials soon…)
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Lohen’s initial attraction to you was based on your personality. No, you weren’t entirely sure of yourself, but the way you always figured out a solution to your problems strung him on. It was attractive. You were attractive.
“Nice going back there. The Hilichurl Camp.” Your first real conversation started with his compliment the second he saw you alone at Dorman’s Port.
Of course this was right after you were done with what he called, “charity work.” Safe to say that you were surprised. Immediately you greeted him formally, watching as he brushed off your courtesy with ease.
“None of that please. Just pretend you’re talking with a friend.”
He turned his attention to your weapon of choice strapped to your back. He figured out a way that may strike up an appeal of himself to you.
“I can give you tips on that weapon of yours.”
You didn’t exactly want to turn down a personal training session from someone of his caliber and rank, so your agreement was concrete.
“I would appreciate that, thank you.” That smile of yours was just warm enough to set the romance side of his heart completely ablaze for you.
He struggled to proceed in a healthy way of courting you. Lohen gained access to your work schedule, which meant he always knew your location when on the clock. On days you were free, he would study your habits. Where you liked to shop, what you liked to eat and activities you enjoyed. He knew all of it before you two even properly knew each other.
If you were often out and about, he would make sure to deliberately run into you from time to time to instigate a conversation. If you were more reserved to your home, he’d invite you for more private training sessions. Since those were your days off, he’d often propose grabbing dinner with you afterwards to sweeten the deal.
When you two became into friends, Lohen made sure to keep you even closer. He would accompany you everywhere; when he allowed you your space, he was always nearby. He didn’t doubt your strength nor ability to defend yourself, but he’d rather not take a single chance.
He always knew when and if someone else possessed feelings for you and were about to reveal them. A gentle threat, or a few more demanding tasks (for any other knight) was enough to keep the suitors at bay. There was even an incident where he terrorized one of the knights in the middle of a dense forest. Lohen would claim his actions as friendly advice, but you noticed how the knight affected started to steer clear of you.
Sick? He stayed at your residence to take care of you. Injured? He carried you to the nearest med bay.
“You’re overheating.” He was attentive, even noticing the little things as you laid down in an open field with him after an assignment.
Removing his glove, Lohen placed the palm of his hand on your forehead. He used his Cryo Vision to cool you down.
“I’m fine.” You’d deny any abnormalities happening to you, he knew this.
“I can assure you that you are not.” He next pulled at your clothing with a firm grip. “Down to your undershirt please. This is too much fabric right now.”
Once you were down to that particular piece of clothing to keep your decency, an idea popped into his head as you sucked down a spare bottle of water he had chilled to the bone. A perfect opportunity, especially as you sat resting your forehead against a tree.
“Mind if I try something?” He didn’t wait for a response from you before acting.
You shivered violently with a startled sound at the feeling of those ice cold palms against the bare skin of your shoulders. He studied your body language. The movement frightened you, yet you weren’t uncomfortable. He had a chance.
Fueled by his own desire and worry about you falling into heat exhaustion, without another word, he slowly pulled himself closer. His arms moved to hug you around your shoulders completely, resting his chest completely against your back. Again, you didn’t seem uncomfortable with the contact, you seemed rather relaxed. Was it the cold you liked, or his presence?
“Is this okay?” A rare moment of vulnerability, you could hear it in his whisper to your ear.
A part of him wanted to stick to you like glue, yet another part also cared about your comfort. He only felt your hand touching his own gently without a response. A few moments passed, as if you were now the one testing his boundaries. All of a sudden, your hands held onto his arms with a nod.
“Yeah.”
An unwavering yet comfortable silence followed as you practically melted into his cool form. That was how it started. How you officially became his.
#
You two didn’t parade your relationship to the public. Sometimes it even felt like you both were hiding the revelation. This fact was true during the very beginning, a reflection of your concern.
“I’n not sure if this is breaking some sort of rule.” You were pacing around the empty library with Lohen after hours.
He sat in a chair, leaning back with eyes locked on your form. A dark look in his gaze before he straightened up. As you vented the insecurity, he was too busy wondering how long you possessed feelings for him.
“You and I are under different companies. In case you haven’t noticed…I technically have no input over your earnings, schedule, raises—“ He could go on.
He could access all the information he needed, yet all changes went through either Varka or Jean (who would never let Lohen tamper with anything concerning another knight’s due diligence).
“It’s not possible for me to show favoritism towards you. This isn’t breaking any rules.” He further clarified.
You bit your lip, finally facing him as he stood. His eyebrows raised. Wow, you really did look troubled.
“Maybe we should just tell Varka.” Your suggestion was met with his signature grin that ran shivers down your spine.
He came really close, holding you by your arms firmly. He wanted to comfort you, while also teasing you.
“Or…we can let sleeping dogs lie.”
His hands then cupped your face, caressing your cheeks. He leaned closer into you, ready to finally perform what he wanted to for months.
Unfortunately, you spotted something in your peripheral vision coming down the stairs behind him. The sight horrified you. To dodge the kiss you slipped free from Lohen’s grasp quickly. You then made sure to place a respectable distance between you two.
“Grand Master!” The title came out sounding as if you were a child caught with their hands in a cookie jar.
Lohen didn’t even realize you could move that quickly under his nose. Varka meanwhile stared at you both with scrutinizing eyes.
“Hey you two.” Varka spoke slowly, already forming an idea of what was going on in here.
Lohen rolled his eyes before turning his head. He wasn’t angry at Varka, just annoyed that he was unable to land the mind blowing kiss he had planned for months.
Besides, he had always known you two weren’t truly alone. Lohen just didn’t care about any sort of spectators. It was you who turned out to be oblivious.
“Um…it’s getting late I should get going.” You smiled awkwardly and professionally, excusing yourself from the men in the room with a quick “good night.”
They both watched as you left, Lohen now turning to look at Varka with a smile. A mischievous one.
“What kind of gentleman would I be letting that sweet person walk home alone in the dark.” He smirked.
Varka sighed. There’s no way he was present enough to discuss what was happening between you guys. All he wished for right now was beer and chicken.
“Yeah, yeah we’ll talk tomorrow.” He yawned as Lohen opened the door to exit.
“Good night Grand Master.” His final words before shutting it, racing after you.
—————————————————————————
Thank you so much for the love for “Monitoring Tendencies!!” <3
syn: You've never liked the cold. But the cold has always liked you.
wc: 1138
warnings: yandere content, probably ooc lohen, implied drugging, a little bit of blood, lohen licks your blood, gn! reader
notes: i had 40 pulls 2 pity and a dream and he came home so i thought he deserved a fic
likes & rbs appreciated!
masterlist
You've never been fond of the cold.
Winter brings with it an unliveability that most of nature seeks refuge from, flowers wilting and sprouting vegetation far and few between. There's a sense of sadness that comes with it, seeping into your bones like a malady only cured by the warming of seasons.
Nothing good ever comes out of winter, you've always complained to anyone who would listen, and the reactions have always ranged from amusement to agreement. But not with Lohen. Never with Lohen.
You get the same chill you do with winter with Lohen, the slow beginnings of a frost that subtly decreases in temperature until it's too late to escape, but you've always blamed it on his vision — after all, it's only natural that wielding a cryo vision would lead to a change in their holder's body, right?
But every time you look into his eyes, you find yourself believing it a little less.
It's unreasonable for you to feel such a way about someone who has been nothing but kind and helpful to you, despite what the other knights say about him. Lohen has always kept in touch with you however far he may be, sending you letters accompanied by exotic gifts, and when he's in Mondstadt, he always accompanies you home, no matter how late it gets. Anyone would say that he's being a gentleman, and how lucky you are that someone such as Lohen cares so deeply about you.
Logic says that you should agree, but instinct urges you to stay far, far away from him.
You like Lohen, you really do, but no matter how much you try, the little voice in your head that pleads for you to hide from him just won't shut up. It lingers on each and every thought of him, like smoke from a bygone flame, and when he's in front of you, it blares like an alarm, like it is doing right now.
"Was my exploits in Nod-Krai so devastatingly boring that you've resorted to daydreaming?" Lohen's voice tugs you back into the realm of the living, sat across from you with a smile on his face. His eyes cut into you, and although they hold an amalgamation of colours within them, the red is the one that stands out the most.
The red sits in the epicentre of his eyes, the colour a stark difference from the rest of his appearance. It stands out amongst the mix of whites and blues, and for a reason you cannot put into words, it makes you feel uneasy, like a prey knowing it is surrounded by predators.
"A-ah, not at all, Lohen. My mind's been drifting these days, so it's my fault…" You barely manage to answer, fingers fiddling with the drink in front of you. The warmth of it isn't enough to dispel even a little bit of the cold, from the winter or from Lohen, you don't know.
"Oh? Has something, or perhaps someone, been bothering you while I've been away?" His voice has the slightest tinge of what you've come to recognise as excitement, probably excited at the prospect of potentially having a reason to fight. Normally, you might've found this exasperating, but all you can feel now is a sense of restlessness.
"No, nothing of that sort." You shake your head quickly, hoping to douse the embers before they turn into a fire. Lohen tsks in response, taking out his knife and inspecting its gleam in the sunlight. Your heart starts to pound.
"Must be the changing season, then." He sighs, putting it back in its sheath. Somehow, your heart only begins to beat faster than before, and all the blood rushing to your head is starting to make you feel lightheaded.
"I'm sorry, Lohen, but my head is starting to kill me. I, uh, think I'll be going now." You stand from your seat, wiping off invisible dust from your lap. His gaze follows your figure, and the telltale signs of the formations of an uncomfortable pit in your stomach only motivates you to make your way home faster. "Maybe we can catch up another time, when I feel better?"
"Of course." Lohen rises from his own seat, offering his arm for you to take. "You don't look so well, so allow me to walk you back. I would hate for anything to happen to you."
You stare at his outstretched hand while an internal battle rages inside you. The logical side, backed with evidence and trust, says that there's no reason not to take his arm. That it's nothing he hasn't done before, that you can trust him. The irrational side, backed only with gut instincts, begs you to leave alone. That his eyes are hiding something, a blizzard threatening to freeze you over.
Lohen continues to look at you, arm outstretched, eyes expectant. The red in them is even stronger than before, you think.
Against your growing feelings of anxiety, you link your arm in his and allow him to lead you home.
When did you fall asleep?
Your eyes open with a yawn, your sight blurry and your head pounding. Your surroundings are exactly as your room, but the window tells you that night has long fallen, and the bed feels heavier with an unknown guest.
"Awake so soon?" An all too familiar voice is spoken too close into your ear, the sound doing nothing but stoking the panic forming in your chest. To your right is Lohen, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder, his arms wrapped around your waist.
Your tongue is too heavy in your mouth, and all you can make are sounds you hope come across as confusion. This was a misunderstanding, it had to be, right?
"You collapsed during our walk back, and I carried you back. You gave me quite the scare, you know." His voice is lighthearted, every bit truthful, but you don't believe it, not at all. Because if it was true…
Then how did he get into your house, without knowing the lock code?
"Ah, you don't believe me?" He pouts, but his eyes are fiery with excitement. "That's a shame… but you're right."
Lohen gives no warning as he pins you back down to the bed, eyes glowing in the darkness. The beginnings of frost crawl up your arms, and it's so cold it's starting to burn.
"Don't worry," Lohen whispers into your ear, before sinking his teeth into the bottom of your lip. Iron fills your mouth as he licks his lips, and you can only pray to the archons above that death is a quick affair.
"I'll take very, very good care of you."
But just as winter kills, it can preserve, and you have a feeling that you'll be preserved for a very, very long time.
summary: lohen got punished with the quietest post in camp, where nothing ever happens. he would have died of boredom — if you hadn't already been there. now he's starting to think varka did him a favor.
topics: russian roulette, lohen being a freak & down really bad, reader is lightkeeper, sexual tension, a little bit nsfw (mentions of masturbation & sexual thoughts, masochism, gunplay)
english is not my first language. please tell me if i got something wrong. thank you!
"This is so fucking boring," Lohen groaned, lying on his back and rubbing his face with one hand. With the other he toyed with his knife, hoping that eventually his body would betray him and not let him catch the sharp edge in time, letting it sink into his flesh. The worst thing Varka could have done to him was station him somewhere where absolutely nothing happens. "Talk to me, nightingale."
The watch duty he'd been given as punishment for a certain tiny violation took place at the position closest to the camp. It was the last line of defense, meaning the chance of anything happening here was exactly zero — especially on a warm, quiet night like this one. Normally at this hour he'd have free time; he'd be wreaking havoc in enemy camps. But instead… well.
The only consolation was you. You and Lohen had known each other for a few years, ever since the Knights of Favonius and the Lightkeepers had signed their alliance treaty. What you knew about him was that he was a goddamn freak, a killing machine, and for some reason — terribly fond of you. Perhaps because you personally went out of your way to avoid him whenever possible, so the more you showed your distaste, the harder he tried to get closer to you. Like a moth to a flame.
Lohen loved to tease you because you had a saintly patience, and that made him terribly excited at the thought of the day you'd finally lose your footing. He wanted to see you furious so badly that sometimes, before falling asleep, he'd fantasize about how you might react. Completely shamelessly, he'd slide his hand into his trousers thinking about you slapping him in frustration, then finish on his own fingers while imagining your trembling breath and perhaps tears on your flushed cheeks.
Tonight he'd probably sin again, staining your image in his filthy mind — but for now, he needed to whine a little to finally get your attention.
While he was practically writhing with boredom, you sat calmly reading snezhnayan literature. You loved when this particular watch shift came around; it was one of the rare moments when you could truly rest and do things you otherwise never had time for. The watchtower sat in a perfectly quiet spot — not too far from the forest and not too far from camp, but still remote enough that no one would catch you slacking. Hardly anyone ever checked on you here. Although absorbed in your book, you remained alert enough that in case of danger you could react quickly and warn your companions.
At least, that's usually how it went. Today you had to put up with Lohen.
"You should have behaved like a proper knight," you replied, trying to hide your amusement. It worked on Lohen immediately — he lifted his eyes to look at the corners of your mouth turning up, and a smile spread automatically across his face as well.
"Are you saying I'm not honorable?" He sat up and rested his elbow on his knee, propping his cheek against his palm, looking at you with that usual intensity of his. With a sigh, you closed your book. So much for relaxing.
"I didn't say that, Lohen," you replied, rolling your eyes. Still, you knew perfectly well that Lohen shouldn't be judged solely on his… fighting style. Against all appearances, he was an excellent knight who always looked out for the safety of his companions and the people around him. "You could just be decent sometimes."
Lohen snorted and straightened up. He glanced at the star-filled sky for a moment — and even that long, it wasn't nearly as interesting as you. He turned his gaze back to you, but you didn't return his attention.
"No fun at all," he sighed, feeling the crushing boredom settle back into his bones. He really wasn't made for sitting in one place, let alone staying quiet. You had absolutely no idea how to keep him occupied enough to leave you in peace — until, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the gun at his belt, and suddenly an idea came to you.
A risky idea.
But a little entertainment never hurt anyone, right?
"Can I see your gun?" you asked, looking at him seriously.
Lohen perked up immediately, genuinely surprised by your question, before a thrilled smirk spread across his face. He reached for the weapon at once, twirling it casually the way he often did.
"Do you want to shoot me?" Lohen moved a little closer, placing the gun in your hands — and naturally used the opportunity to hold them for even just a moment. You were so focused on examining the weapon that you didn't even notice him gently rubbing your skin with his thumb, until you pulled your hands back to take a closer look at the pistol yourself. "I'd think carefully about that if I were you. To me, that's practically a marriage proposal, nightingale."
You didn't answer, too absorbed in your own thoughts as you popped the magazine out and spilled the rounds.
Not a single drop of romance in you, was there? He sighed.
"Do you want to play a game with me?" you asked, looking at him.
Lohen's eyes widened, and his heart beat a little faster.
The worst thing you could do to him was ask him that while holding his own gun. He swallowed, his eyes trembling with excitement and arousal.
"What kind of game?"
"Snezhnayan roulette," you answered calmly.
You stood up, and so did he — like an obedient little dog.
"This really is a marriage proposal."
"What?"
"I mean — Fuck, yes. I want to play," he laughed, a little too pleased with himself. "I just never expected that you would ever… suggest something like this."
You laughed, shaking your head.
It was true — this was probably out of character for you. You had always kept your distance from things like this, considering them utterly stupid and dangerous. But you did live in Nordkrai, didn't you? Sometimes everyone needed a little adrenaline in their life.
You tossed the round into the air, and Lohen's gaze locked onto it. A moment later you snapped it into the magazine, spun the cylinder, and leveled the gun at him.
Lohen's heart was pounding so uncontrollably fast at the sight that he could swear he was about to faint. Even in his own fantasies, it had never crossed his mind to imagine something so beautiful.
"I don't need to explain the rules, do I?" you asked, tossing him the gun. As you stepped back, he caught you with his free hand, pulling you by the waist and drawing you closer. You rolled your eyes, your hands instinctively pressing against his chest to push him away at least a little.
But Lohen was far stronger. You'd always known that. And maybe that's why it was foolish of you to openly display your distaste for him instead of pretending to be fond of him — you wouldn't want him as your enemy in any lifetime.
Slowly, he dragged the gun along your neck up to your temple. Completely sure of himself, he watched your reaction, then raised an eyebrow, slightly puzzled as to why you still weren't trembling in his arms.
Although Lohen had fantasized about you countless times, he had just realized it had never occurred to him to imagine himself hurting you. Apart from sexual degradation and sadistic scenarios, he had never thought about seriously wounding you. While you could kick him, torture him, press your boot to his throat, or even run a knife through him — it was never mutual.
If he'd never desired your fear, why did he now feel disappointed that you weren't gazing up at him pleadingly, like a little doe caught by a cruel hunter?
Your eyes held only irritation, and your body — smaller and more delicate than his, especially within his arms — remained steady. He felt only your discomfort at the closeness between you. Nothing more.
His smile twisted back into a manic curl, and his eyes seemed to brighten.
"Hm. Since you proposed the game yourself, I should have expected you wouldn't fold immediately," he laughed — and, taking advantage of the brief distraction his sudden words caused, pressed the trigger while shifting the angle of the barrel so that in the worst case he'd startle you, not hit you.
Click.
Empty chamber. You yanked the gun from his hand and kicked him while he was focused on the shot. Lohen snickered, feeling warmth pool low in his abdomen, and crossed his arms.
"Your turn, pretty thing." He stepped closer — with that goddamn smile of his — close enough for the muzzle to touch his chest when you aimed at him.
That goddamn freak…
He didn't break eye contact for a single moment, staring at you as though you were the best thing that had ever happened to him. His fingers gently wrapped around yours at the trigger, encouraging you to fire — but the whole thing felt so frighteningly intimate that you couldn't move. Heat flooded through you and you swallowed heavily, yet you showed no sign of hesitation, only… a need to stay like this a little longer.
If Lohen weren't clearly deriving such enormous pleasure from the situation, you might have felt — just for a moment — as though you were the one in control. But of course he had no intention of allowing that. It was unnerving, the way Lohen could give the impression of being the hunter even when he was the one in danger.
"How long are you going to make me wait before you pull the trigger, nightingale?"
Click.
Empty chamber. Either you'd misheard, or something like a stifled groan had escaped Lohen's lips. You pressed the gun back into his hands and rolled your eyes.
"You're too impatient. Don't you know the whole point is the tension?" you replied, crossing your arms, while Lohen circled around you, laughing with delight as he caught you from behind with an arm around your shoulders.
You were starting to regret ever coming up with this idea, because so far Lohen was making effective use of your little game as an excuse to put his hands all over you. This time, instead of pushing him away, you stayed unmoved.
Lohen clearly didn't like that — using the barrel under your chin, he tilted your face toward his. You felt his breath against your cheek, which produced an odd tightening in your stomach. Another thing you absolutely couldn't stand about the vice-captain was that he was devastatingly attractive.
Unfortunately, he ruined it all the moment he opened his mouth.
"And what am I doing right now?" he replied, pressing the muzzle beneath your chin.
"But when I—"
Click.
Empty chamber, again. He'd interrupted you mid-sentence so you wouldn't notice him shifting the barrel. You didn't even flinch when he fired. Lohen raised an eyebrow, and just as he was about to say something, you snatched the gun from his hand and spun sharply to face him, his hands settling on your hips with the movement.
You grabbed him by the choker and pressed the muzzle to his temple. He licked his lips, visibly delighted by your rough initiative. It was exactly as he had always dreamed — without realizing it, you were losing your patience, your irritation no doubt deepened by the fact that this whole thing had been your idea to begin with.
You had never been this close, face to face. A faint flush bloomed on Lohen's cheeks as you stared him down with an intense, annoyed gaze. The expression on his face was almost blissful, wistful even.
"Nightingale—"
Click.
Empty chamber. You stepped back and handed him the gun, waiting for his turn.
That was the fourth of six. Not good. Maybe he really should have listened to your advice about building tension, because now that they were nearing the end, he assumed you'd give up any moment. He smiled with a quiet exhale, spinning the gun around his finger.
"Shall we play again after this?"
"We haven't even finished this round," you replied, rolling your eyes — but a smile tugged involuntarily at your lips. "Unless you're surrendering, Lohen?"
He shook his head and tapped the muzzle against his own temple before aiming at you from a distance. Throughout the whole game he'd tried to appear relaxed when his turn came, but every time he made absolutely sure he would never fire a bullet into you. Up close, that was significantly harder — which was exactly why he kept throwing you off balance, so you wouldn't notice him shifting the barrel's angle. And if he ever felt the familiar vibration of a real shot, that was why he kept his hands on you: to pull you safely against him.
You, however, were taking the game entirely seriously, aiming at him without mercy every time — and fuck — that was so unbearably hot that if he weren't trying to stay alert, he'd already have a very obvious problem in his trousers.
"No, sweetheart."
He aimed. From your perspective it might look like he was pointing straight at you — but as an experienced sharpshooter, he knew perfectly well he'd miss.
Click.
Empty chamber.
Lohen smiled. He tossed the gun back to you, expecting to hear you surrender any moment — and yet the corners of your mouth lifted. He furrowed his brow as you raised the pistol and aimed.
"Any last words, Lohen?" you threatened playfully, and he laughed.
"Death at your hands is a pleasure, my lady," he replied with equal theatricality, crossing his arms.
You pulled your hand back, and he clapped gleefully.
"I suppose that means I win, hm? Then as my prize I demand your—"
He didn't finish.
You turned the muzzle to your own temple, and the trigger gave way under your fingers.
Click—!
Lohen lunged at you and pinned you beneath him as you both went down to the ground. The gun hit the floor with a loud clang beside you as you stared up at him in shock.
"What the fuck?" he asked, looking at you in a way he never had before. You had long since memorized every expression of his — but this one you were seeing for the first time.
Over all these years you had come to know Lohen fairly well. You knew about his past, his mentor, his career as a traveler, his early days in the Knights of Favonius. You knew he had a weakness for poisons, that he was a battle maniac, that he loved testing his subordinates. You also knew that even though he had no close friends in your company, as a knight and a model vice-captain, he made sure they always came back in one piece — even at his own expense.
But through all of it he had never lost his edge; he was always spirited, carefree, forever craving the next rush of adrenaline. He loved when someone challenged him and didn't hold back around him — though few such people existed, and they usually ended up thoroughly beaten.
This time, Lohen looked pale. His breath seemed unsteady, and his eyes — for the first time — held none of that wild curiosity, none of that ecstasy at the approach of some unknown sensation.
You felt something prick at your chest and almost immediately regretted what you'd done. But you had to shake off the shock and quickly turn the situation around.
You reached for the gun. His face had already softened somewhat, so you smiled at him and pressed the muzzle to his lips, like a gentle kiss, before he could say a word.
Click.
The sixth chamber was empty.
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
You burst out laughing. God — even though you genuinely felt a pang of guilt, his reaction made every bit of it worth it. You had finally gotten back at him. After all those years of his teasing, you'd returned the favor with interest.
"Remember how I tossed the round?" you asked, opening the magazine, then reaching into your pocket to produce the stray bullet. "You were so focused on it that you didn't notice when I caught it, I closed the magazine back up without loading it. That's the whole trick. A magician from Fontaine taught it to me years ago."
Lohen appeared to understand now. In his excitement, he'd lost enough of his edge not to notice the difference in the gun's weight. And every time suspicion flickered in him at your nonchalant behavior, you had redirected his attention just in time. You had played it perfectly. He let out an amused snort, feeling his heart race all over again — because fuck, that had been extraordinary. You'd played him, frightened him half to death, and had the audacity to laugh at him on top of it all. You were perfect.
Which didn't change the fact that he had absolutely no intention of letting you get away with it.
"Clever, nightingale," he smiled broadly, taking the gun from you. He straightened up and settled himself comfortably across your hips, reaching into his pocket. You looked at him with sudden unease. "You really had me fooled."
To your dismay, Lohen produced a round and loaded it without hesitation. You immediately pressed your hands to his thighs to push him off, but he caught your wrists in one hand and pinned them to the ground, leaning over you.
Oh, fuck.
"Allow me to return the favor," he said, dragging the gun along your chest and up to your lips — which reminded you that just moments ago you had pressed the same muzzle to his. He knew it too, drawing a quiet, strange pleasure from that indirect contact, while privately wishing it were the other way around. "Now I'd like to have a little fun with you."
notes: fitting word count for the devil reincarnate who possessed me to write a second fic. did this instead of studying for my exam tomorrow chat am i cooked
likes & rbs appreciated!
masterlist
There are rules to life with Lohen, you've come to know.
Through much trial and error, you've learned that Lohen is actually quite lenient — you can try to poison him with the poisons he keeps in the cabinets, and all he'll do is laugh; you can try to stab him in his sleep with a knife you've hidden under your pillow, but he'll always be awake to stop it from reaching his heart. In this regard, Lohen encourages these acts, because it means that the fire raging within you that made him fall for you in the first place is still well and alive.
The only rule that exists outside of this leniency is the one that says, you must not leave this house, no matter what.
You like to think that you were always good at following rules. All but Lohen's, of course. And that is your first, and most grievous mistake.
You've been concocting a plan to escape for as long as he's kidnapped you. The passage of time has long become something of the distant past, and the only way to tell time is through a glimpse of the sunlight or lack thereof through the curtains, or when Lohen tells you it's time for bed. A way to make you depedent on him, no doubt.
He's spoken of an expedition to Nod-Krai, departing soon. How soon, he's smart enough to not say, but you've been biding your time. Sixteen days since he's said that, you've counted with each day you've woken up, and he has started to pack his clothing and essentials. You know it, because you've been helping him, all while he laments the inability of bringing you along.
Internally, you can only smile with relief for what's to come.
Once you leave and make it out of Mondstadt, you'll set yourself on a path to Fontaine. You've heard that the laws there are far stricter, and punishment is meted out with efficiency. Perhaps if you can hide there, Lohen won't be able to kidnap you as easily as he did, assuming he'll be able to find you at all.
The house is emptier now, his boxes of belongings long transported to the carts. You can't help the smile on your face as you prepare breakfast for you and him. This will be the last time you do such a thing.
"So happy to see me go already?" Lohen's voice purrs into your ear, making you flinch. He laughs, a crude sound, as his hand snakes around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. "At least wait until I'm out of the door."
"There's no reason for me to show you respect when you haven't shown me any in the first place." You hiss back, wishing you could slam his stupid face into the open fire. What a wonderful sight that would be, you think wistfully.
"You break my heart, my love." Lohen sighs, fingers trailing over your clothes. An uncomfortable shivers runs down your spine, and you know Lohen felt it from the way he presses himself impossibly closer into your back.
"As if you had any heart to begin with," you scoff, closing the open fire and wiggling out of his grip to place the food on the table. He hums, pulling out a chair and beckoning you to take a seat. You take the seat reluctantly, reminding yourself that if you suffer just a little longer, you'll be free again.
"Oh?" Lohen murmurs to himself, a contemplative looking crossing his face, but just as quickly as it appears, his expression is back to the same irritatingly cocky smile he always dons.
Breakfast is a quiet affair, for the most part. Lohen attemps to play the part of doting husband, feeding you with a lazy grin, while you have no choice but to comply. He makes an offhanded comment abour how you haven't tried to poison him lately, but you pay it no mind. The only thing he wants out of you is a reaction, and you refuse to give it to him.
When he leaves, he takes a long and demanding kiss from you that leaves you dizzy and numb, bidding you farewell and a command disguised as a playful nudge that says behave.
All alone in the house, you start packing your own essentials, shoving the few clothes you don't despise and medicine and mora you may need into a random bag you found in the closet. You sheath a knife and stuff it in, before causing chaos within the house. Maybe if you can make it look like someone else kidnapped you, Lohen would be too busy searching for them instead of you.
In the chaos of the house you've grown to despise, you wait for night to fall, the bag held tight to your chest. Freedom was within reach, after god knows how long it's been…
Tears well up in your eyes just thinking of it. Has Barbatos finally heard your pleas? After all, it's ironic to be held captive in a nation that prides itself on freedom. You miss seeing the dandelions, the starry sky from Starsnatch Cliff, feeling the breeze from the wind. All of these little pieces of happiness, ripped away from you all because of the greed of one man who claims to be a knight.
You sneer at the thought as you wipe away your tears. It's been long enough, you think. Lohen would've already arrived back by now, but you're still all alone. Standing up, you approach the door tentatively, almost afraid that Lohen would be waiting behind it all so he can play a cruel joke on you.
To your relief, no one stands behind it. Chewing on the bottom of your lip, you step outside as quietly as you can, closing the door behind you. Your surroundings are undoubtedly still Mondstadt, but you plan to change that soon.
The exit is sparsely guarded, allowing for an easy escape from the city walls. Seeing the greenery, despite the dimness of the night, sends a new wave of tears to your eyes. Fresh air, the dandelions swaying, the gentle breeze of the wind… this, is home.
Sentimentality outweighs your urgency as you decide to make your way to Starsnatch Cliff first, as a final goodbye. The path is the same as you remember, and there's a lightness to your step you haven't felt in forever.
The walk is nothing of note, but this sense of normalcy is what you've missed most. There's no Lohen breathing down your neck, forcing you into activities you don't want to do. You don't need to keep living on edge, afraid of what he may do to you, living by his rules in a house you've only known as a cage. Your life… is finally beginning to be yours again.
You've always enjoyed sitting on the cliff, admiring the countless stars in the night sky. There's something therapeutic about it, seeing the clouds shift while the stars sparkle in their unreachable sky. You wish you could be a star, too.
But you're only a human. And no human as insignificant as you will ever get the eminence it takes to sit amongst the stars.
These self-deprecating thoughts harshly tug you back into reality. Your time is running out, and you need fo move quick. Who knows if the expedition team could be making a detour for something they've forgotten, and you simply can't take that risk.
You wipe the remaining tears in your eyes as you stand, and along with your tears you wipe away any thoughts of worthlessness that may linger. You can drown in a tub of self-pity once you've managed to get to Fontaine.
With a deep breath, you take in the sight again for the last time. Maybe in another life, this cliff would be all that you know.
Whispering your own goodbyes, you turn around, ready to truly start your journey, when you walk into a person. Your mouth instinctively opens to apologise, but the familiar uniform makes your mouth dry and the blood drain from your face.
"Did you have fun? Admiring the sky for the last time, I mean." Lohen's voice is scathing despite the chill emitting from his body. You can hardly bring yourself to meet his eyes, but his hand forces it anyway.
His eyes swirl with too many and too little emotions all at once, but his grip on your chin tells you enough about his real feelings. The red in his eyes glow in the darkness, a warning and a death sentence all the same. All of a sudden, you regret even thinking of this foolish plan.
"How does it feel, for the plan you've thought of so meticulously, to be torn to shreds before it could even be fully realised?" Lohen's other hand grips your wrist so harshly you fear he may break it. "Answer me."
No words form nor leave your tongue despite his demand, your mind long gone the moment you saw him. What was there for you to say, really? Even if you tried to assure him that you were going to go back, the sheer mess inside wasn't going to do you any favours. And even if you were truly going to go back, there's no way that Lohen would go easy on you. You broke the most important rule — never, ever, leave the house.
"Nothing to say?" Lohen murmurs, annoyance laced in his words. You can vaguely feel the sharp bite of ice creep up your arm, but your body has started to go numb.
Please, Barbatos, allow me the dignity of death before I fall back into his arms once again.
"That's fine. You'll need to save your voice for what I am going to do to you." Lohen leans in close, his warm breath on your ear. "Because you have made a very, very grievous mistake."
The gentleness of the wind only seems to mock you.
synopsis: every attempt to leave is a reason for you to stay; or: unable to bear the thought of losing you, Lohen decides to offer the promise of his vitality for your everlasting “love.”
before you read: lohen x gn!reader, cw: yandere & suicidal themes, manipulation & guilt-tripping, mentions of guns, mentions of blood but not gorey, overall unhealthy depiction of relationships. **note: I don't think lohen would actually do something like this, but i just couldn’t resist after seeing him put a gun to his head in his trailer…
wc: 1.1k
thank u to @akamigi for the idea <3
“I don’t think this is going to work, Lohen.”
You can barely look at the man in your living room. The last time you had ever felt this apprehensive about something, it had been five minutes before your practical examination with the Knights of Favonius. Back then, your throat had felt dry, indicative of your nervous yet nonetheless hopeful anticipation.
This time, you taste bile, and its acidity makes you grimace with the same disgust flooding through your chest.
Lohen doesn’t look up when you approach him, lounging ever so casually on the couch as he scrapes dried blood from his spear. You frown at the way the flakes settle into your white carpet; it all serves to remind you of the innumerable deaths caused by his hands.
His collection of other weapons — his signature dagger, a mini crossbow, a musket you never knew he used, and a silver revolver — are still settled by his thigh. It’s a lot of weapons that he has. The thought that Lohen intentionally swaps between them to kill most efficiently makes you grimace again.
“Mhm, what’s not workin’ out?”
Lohen’s reply comes easily. It carries an easygoing amusement that makes your heart constrict in guilt. But you know you cannot afford to be soft with him anymore — there’s a sense of resolution in your chest about the fact that you’re going to leave him tonight.
“Lohen.”
His name comes out sharper this time, and the vice captain finally turns to look at you. He raises a confused eyebrow, shrugging at your sudden firm tone.
“I don’t think our relationship is going to work out anymore,” you muster out, trying to sound more resolute about the decision. Even so, there’s a hint of shakiness in your tone, and you know for sure that your boyfriend can sense your ambivalence.
Lohen gives you a delayed, lopsided grin, fingers pausing at the tip of his spear. You can tell he’s not quite sure if you’re messing around with him or not.
“Heh, you’re funny! Did Varka put ya up to this so he can get back at me? Tell the old man to try harder.”
Silence fills the room, and you wince at his disbelieving words. That’s when Lohen realizes that you are, in fact, not messing around with him for the sake of Varka.
That you really, truly, want to leave him.
“Look,” you sigh, working up the courage to explain your feelings. “I know Jean and Varka make these executive decisions, and I know you’re perfect for these kinds of tasks, but I can’t help but feel weird when you’re mercilessly killing every soul you see during your missions. It’s one thing to fulfill the Grand Master’s requirements, but it’s another to flaunt the genuine joy you felt when you murdered every single guard at that underground auction.”
You’re rambling now, trying to force all the words out before you must witness the disappointment that you’re sure is plastered on Lohen’s face.
“Don’t you see we’re not the right fit for each other? We have vastly different goals within the knights, and it seems to me that your only goal is to obsessively seek more power–”
You cut yourself off, unnerved by the lack of reaction from Lohen. When you dare to look at him, there’s a blank, frozen expression on his face. You don’t like how you’re unable to read him. You don’t like how his usual easygoing smirk has vanished, replaced by a clenched jaw.
Most of all, you don’t like how his crimson eyes are flat and dead.
When you were younger, you loved reading in Favonius Library. The romance novels you often indulged in would always describe a character’s anger or disappointment with things like “a shadow fell across his face,” or “her expression darkened.” In the past, you had laughed at the absurdity — how cliché and inaccurate! However, right now you think those sentences perfectly describe the terrifying expression on Lohen’s face.
You curse, suddenly feeling an immense, suffocating guilt wash over you. He hasn’t moved an inch or said a word, yet that blank expression on its own wrenches an apology from your heart.
“Fuck. Lohen, I’m sorry.”
He tilts his head back slightly, looking down at you through his lashes. The way his bangs fall across his forehead messily makes him look younger, yet also a little more unhinged.
“Hah…you want to leave me?”
Lohen’s voice comes out shaky and brittle — strained, so unlike the effortless manner in which he usually addresses you. It feels as if he might cry, yet not a single tear streams down his face. You think it’s a result of the numbness he’s used to feeling.
Lohen pushes himself off the couch, grabbing the revolver he still hadn’t cleaned. It’s a rusty red from his previous victims at that underground auction; now, you think it’s about to be painted with your blood, too.
He doesn’t point the gun at your head.
Instead, Lohen presses the cold barrel firmly against his temple, eyes wide and manic. He’s smiling so unnaturally that it petrifies you into staying frozen on that bloody carpet you previously couldn’t stand.
“No.”
“No, no, no. You can’t. Please don’t. Please don’t leave me.”
Desperation seeps through his words as he steps closer and closer to you, fingers shaking around the handle of the revolver.
“I’ll kill myself if you leave me. I’ll blow my brains out right here. I will, I really will.”
Lohen tilts his head against the gun, pressing the barrel even deeper into his temple. The cold metal bites into his pale skin, but he doesn’t care.
“Hate me with all your heart. Curse my name. Despise the very air I breathe. I don’t care. But please, just do it while you stay by my side.”
Dread seeps into your skin as his finger tightens against the trigger. His words are coming out fast and uneven, and you barely have time to process what he’s doing. His eyes are bloodshot, and the utter desperation in his words makes your heart drop cold.
You’re too scared to leave him.
Lohen knows that this is manipulation, but he doesn’t care.
If he cannot have your pure, unadulterated love, then Lohen will settle for your devotion born of necessity. He will take your guilt, your pity, and your obligation, and he will weave them into a rope that keeps you bound to him forever.
syn: your college dormmate is a jerk... so why is he in your bed !?!?
an/cw: SMUT !!! same au as "player 2 (unfortunately)", no relationship established, bickering while doing the deed, unprotected sex, this is my first time writing smut so .... gLup..... cut me some slack!!!!!
read the main fic here !!
kinich swears you piss him off on purpose.
not the existing, that's already infuriating enough. it's the way you push every last button of his constantly ever since celestia has granted him the blessing of bestowing you as his roommate.
"wow," you hum, lazily checking your nails as you lean against his gaming desk while he's trying―trying―to focus on his game. "you're really bad at multitasking."
"i am literally ignoring you." kinich says flatly, eyes stuck on his pc monitor. the sound of his keyboard's click clack click clack all too familiar now to your ears.
...
...
his eyebrows furrow in worry when you're being a bit too quiet now... eyes still glued to the screen―until he catches a glimpse of your finger tapping the edge of his mechanical keyboard, way too close to the ctrl + w keys...
tap,
tap.
he growls under his breath. "touch that again and i swear―"
"and you'll what, gamerboy?" you challenge, tilting your head. too close for his comfort. his grip tightens on his mouse.
"archons, you're insufferable," he murmurs, yet he can't find it in himself to pull away.
"and yet, you're reacting anyway." you mock.
"what the hell is your problem?" kinich bites back, trying to somewhat gain even a sliver of control here now. he knows you're right, that you always somehow, always manage to get under his skin―as much as he gets in yours.
"my problem is that you think you live alone." you fire back, leaning in further. "you don't. you live with me."
...
you're both too close. you realize it first―how close you are when you notice how his jaw clenches and how his amber-green eyes are darker. he smells like your shampoo, again.
"move." you say, not stepping back.
"you're the one who should move. get out of my space." he mutters,
"make me."
neither of you move.
silence. thick. deafening.
his pc monitor goes dark from inactivity.
his gaze flickers to your lips for one second―just once, or twice.
that's all it takes before your breath is taken away by his lips crashing against yours, the sound of his gaming chair moving and fumbling fills the dorm room as he traps you against his desk―lips never leaving yours for one second.
"you're so.. annoying.." he swears under his breath, voice strained, nearly whining as you grin triumphantly. your arms lazily dangling on his shoulders.
"what's the matter, kinich? not used to a roommate who knows exactly how to piss you off and get you hard?" you taunt,
kinich swears under his breath, glaring at you. but his body betrays him; his hands grip your waist as he pulls you against him. "you think this is a game?" he growls, lips brushing against your ear.
"don't get so smug, roomie. i know exactly what you're doing, and you're not as subtle as you think." he snarls, you shiver as you feel his lips ghost against the skin of your neck.
"you think i don't notice when you wear those stupidly short shorts whenever it's just you and me, huh?" he continues, hands slightly tightening against your hips to keep you in place.
"..d-don't get ahead of yourself now, perv. you're not my type." you lie, feeling heat rush to your cheeks and somewhere else.
kinich chuckles, "you hate me, right?"
a pause, breath warm against your ear. "then why are you shaking, pretty girl?"
"s-shut up―fuck―" your voice shakes as his hips grind forward against yours, his arousal very evident against his pants.
"yeah, that's what i thought."
"i fucking hate you," you growl, yet your hands grip tighter on his shoulders, pulling him closer.
"right back at you, roomie." he huffs, yet his lips are attached to your neck, his fingers playing with the waistband of your shorts.
you despise each other.
yet you don't resist when his body starts to guide you to your bed,
...
"i fucking hate you―ah―so much..mmn!" you repeat, clinging on to his biceps, the bed creaks softly, his forehead drops against your shoulder―the pace of his hips relentless.
"yeah? you say that as if you aren't falling apart on my cock―hah.." he groans, driving into you deeper.
"shut up..!" you moan, clinging on to him for dear life.
"nnh.. maybe i should fuck that attitude of yours out of you," he snarls, pulling you closer against him as he peppers soft kisses against your collarbone.
"i'd like to see you try, jerk. ah fuck―"
"you like this, don't you? you do this on purpose." kinich says quietly, not angry, not teasing. "you know exactly how to push me."
your fingers curl deeper into his soft skin, "maybe you just don't like how easy you are, roomie." you pant,
kinich growls under his breath as your fingers brush through his dark locks and give it a tug, his pace not slowing down. "you drive me absolutely insane." he admits, voice low. his thumb brushes against your bare hips, pinning you down the messy sheets.
"and i hate that i like how you sound when you finally give in to me."
"...you shouldn't talk to me like that." you mumble, sighing when his hips roll just right against yours.
"then tell me to stop." he whispers against your jaw, placing a fleeting kiss on your skin.
you don't.
...
"good." he murmurs, "i knew you'd stay. this is all yours."
you whimper at his words, legs tightening around his waist. your nails dig into his back.
"cat got your tongue, roomie? got nothing snarky to say? didn't think i got to you this bad." kinich chuckles, his tone slightly cocky yet breathless.
"you're such an asshole, i loathe you―don't think i've forgiven you for always using my damn shampoo―mh, faster―"
kinich obeys, the bed creaking louder. "there it is, that mouth. archons, you look real pretty when you're annoyed. makes it hard to remember we're supposed to hate each other." he pants,
his mouth crashes into yours again. desperate, rough, like he's making a point he's been holding back for months.
your breath tangles with his, the world narrows down to the heat and closeness within the walls of your dorm room, and the way neither of you knows how to stop.
"you're gonna act like a brat, huh? you're gonna do it while i'm inside of you." he groans.
you let out a cry when you feel him go deeper. "kinich!"
"yeah? just like that, doll? you like it so much you'd let the entire dorm hear, huh?" kinich taunts, his long fingers kissing against your thighs, keeping you open.
"tsk, you're the one being too loud! a-arrogant bastard,"
"still pretending this doesn't affect you?" he huffs, voice low.
"lie better, roomie." kinich snarls, giving a hard thrust to prove his point.
"fuck―kin'..!" you sob as he hits just the right spot again. "that's it.. take it, i'll always keep coming back to you." kinich murmurs, pounding into you harder.
"i can't..! too good, 's too much―"
"shh, i got you."
and you let go, entire body shaking as your arms wrap around his neck tightly.
kinich shivers as he feels your release against him, making a mess on his pelvis and sheets, his thrusts now uneven and desperate.
"fuck, you feel so good. such a good girl, love you―'m gonna cum.. shit!" kinich whimpers, letting out a heavenly moan as his arms around you tighten.
somewhere between the breathless accusations, muttered curses, and name calling, you both lose track of who started it.
you pant as you feel his body weight slack on top of yours, spent.
the dorm falls silent.
no keyboard clacking, no stupid game music, no bickering. (for now).
just the sound of you and kinich catching your breaths,
you hear someone down the hall, a door slamming, someone laughing. life continues―while the two of you lay there bare, tangled in the aftermath of a mistake neither of you will admit to making.
"..so," you weakly say, voice hoarse, a hickey or two definitely starting to bloom on your neck. and his, too.
"...that happened." he mutters, still laid on top of you.
"you literally almost broke my bed frame."
"i'm just that good."
"...you're unbelievable."
kinich gets off of you, and the last thing you hear is him rummaging around the room, along with the feeling of him cleaning your thighs and his arm slithering around your waist before your vision fades to black, exhausted.
...
kinich wakes up first.
the birds are chirping, the sunlight bleeds through the blinds of your windows catching on to your skins, sheets messy. he's still half-asleep, until he blinks and realizes you're right there.
on top of him.
curled into him.
bare.
just in a blanket, asleep.
one leg is thrown over his waist like you've been doing this every day for years instead of... whatever the hell last night was.
he freezes, sore.
archons.
fuCk.
this is bad, this is really bad.
your face is pressed against his collarbone right on the spot where you left a scarlet hickey, hair tickling his jaw. his arm is just thrown over your waist as if it belongs there. he doesn't make an effort to move.
"..ugh.." you groan, slowly stirring awake as the soreness from last night comes to slap you straight across the face.
...
you're about to say something until you feel something poke against your thigh. you freeze, he freezes.
"for fuCK SAKE KINICH―what is wrong with you put that thing away!" you scramble, pulling the blanket close to your naked chest―
kinich groans, tilting his head back against the pillow. "i can't juST DO THAT..!"
"...and you weren't complaining about it last night―" he adds.
"archons, you are the worst roommate in the world actually," you groan, wacking a pillow over him that he blocks, laughing. "uhuh, as if you weren't just clinging to me awhile ago."
you push yourself up just enough to glare at him. "i am not clinging."
he raises a brow.
you huff, "don't get smug, this was clearly a lapse in judgement."
"on your part." he says immediately
"oh please, you kissed me first." you scoff.
"you were messing with my keyboard."
"excuses, excuses." you taunt.
a few seconds of silence fill the room.
"...whatever happened last night doesn't mean anything." he mutters.
"oh, absolutely." you agree, "i'd hate to think you're getting attached, i still hate your stupid games, and your stupid gaming chair. and your stupid face."
"good," he says too quickly, clearing his throat. "because i still think you're annoying. and distracting. and―"
he stops.
you raise a brow, "and?"
"nevermind." he grunts.
"...i can name one thing you loved about me from last night." he adds, smirking.
"one more word and i'll kill you." you snarl.
"round 2 after breakfast?"
you smack him square in the face with a pillow.
you're still enemies. you're pretty sure of that. you'll go back to arguing over shampoo, chores, who ate the last pack of ramen, and who gets to shower first after you both get out of this bed.
but his hand find yours under the sheets anyway.
just for a second. just this time, and you don't pull away.
🐊 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.
“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.
