cheolinn - Tumblr blog

cheolinn · 4 days ago

Text

with eyes to hear - r. sukuna

❦ heian trueform!sukuna x hard of hearing concubine!reader

❦ oneshot

❝ sukuna doesn't care for you. not just you, but any of the concubines. yearning for more in life, you don't fear the king as you venture through the halls to occupy yourself. taking notice of the bold concubine cooking at all hours of the night, you capture the curse's attention. as your hearing fades and communication becomes increasingly challenging, sukuna surprises you by rising to the occasion to ensure you never feel isolated. ❞

❦ cw ; 18+ only. mdni. f!reader. (kinda) soft!sukuna. heian era with historical inaccuracies. hurt/comfort. kinda slow burn. jealousy. fluff. death. mentions of cannibalism. explicit smut. (outdoor) p in v. sukuna has 2 dicks. oral (f! receiving). handjob. fingering. size kink. biting. marking. the slightest bit of choking. pet names ([little] chef, concubine, dove, queen). sukuna calls reader small but he's sukuna. based on my personal experiences with hearing loss and may not reflect other experiences.

❦ words ; 13.3k.

❦ a/n ; hello!! for those who don't know, i struggle with tinnitus and am hard of hearing. i wrote this as a mini self-indulgent piece and next thing i know it's 13k words, so i figured i'd post it regardless <3 i hope you enjoy!

masterlist || ao3

To say that the King of Curses paid you little mind would be an understatement. For all you could tell, he didn’t know you exist. It’s not only you, either. Sukuna doesn’t seem to spare a glance at any of his concubines, too preoccupied with his own business to bother with any of you.

You often find your fingers trailing the pristine walls of his estate as you ponder why he bothers taking you in at all. Most of you come as offerings from wealthy families looking to make an alliance.

Whether Sukuna was valuable to be in an alliance with, you can’t be sure. In your short time here, you’d witnessed the curse lob a head clean off of someone’s shoulders for what you can only assume was a well-intended suggestion. It had happened on more than one occasion, sending a chill up your spine as you chose to walk in a different direction or remain in your quarters should you feel the vibration of his footsteps approaching.

But you can only avoid him for so long.

With so little to do as a concubine, you find yourself growing tired of the four walls that make up your quarters. It’s the same across the rest of the concubines, but they busy themselves with gossip and activities you don’t wish to take part in, too difficult to make out what they’re saying with everyone speaking over one another.

In such a large group, you often find yourself feeling alienated. The other concubines aren’t cruel by any means, but they don’t seem to pay any mind to your needs. You don’t hold it against them, despite the loneliness you find clinging to your heart. It’s difficult to convey what exactly it is that you need when every day is different.

It comes and goes, the ringing in your ears. Some days it’s dull and you find yourself easily distracted by the chatter of servants and other girls. Other days it’s piercing and headaches come easily, along with that sinking feeling of being terribly alone. Despite your explanations, few make any effort to speak slower, louder, or allow you to read their lips.

It’s not something they do purposefully, but it makes the days where the ringing is loud seem to drone on longer than ever.

So, you find yourself frequenting the kitchen.

You don’t bother the servants throughout busy meals, but they allow you to come and go as you please during downtimes. Uraume doesn’t seem bothered by it either, as your food never goes to waste.

Though you find yourself avoiding a majority of the meat- you had the horrific pleasure of figuring out what it was one late night- you’re able to make yourself some nice meals otherwise. You know you don’t have to, but you’d never grown up under the impression you would be treated to meals by servants at any point, certainly not as your hearing began to fade and the shrill screeching increased. You had always assumed your mother’s teachings would go to use as a servant yourself.

So, you chose to use those skills for yourself.

Grilled vegetables and fish, rice and some sort of wild fowl, elk soup- it varies by the day, but you’d grown fond of your afternoons within the kitchen, long after lunch service is over.

It doesn’t matter how loud or piercing the noise in your ears gets, you can drown it out by busying yourself. Unfortunately, it’s for that very reason that you aren’t privy to the approaching footsteps, nor the way they pause at the doorway.

“Woman.”

You do hear that. His deep baritone voice causes you to jolt and drop your wooden spoon. You spin to face him as it clatters to the floor, standing with your spine ram-rod straight as your lord’s eyes narrow.

That four-eyed gaze, careful and concise, rises from the spoon, quietly observing your garments as if confirming his evaluation of you. “Are you not a concubine?”

Your throat runs dry as you read his lips. “Yes, My Lord, I am.”

“Are you unsatisfied with the servants’ food?” He narrows his eyes as his chest slowly rises and falls. As far as you can tell, there’s no bite behind his words.

“No, My Lord. I simply enjoy cooking.”

He shifts, standing straighter as his gaze flicks across the dishes you’ve amassed in making your current meal. Eventually, he steps through the threshold, making his way closer as he observes what ingredients have been used, the smell of elk and bone broth luring him closer.

Despite the way that he dwarfs you, he doesn’t seem quite as imposing this way. His expression is stoic, completely neutral as his chest rises and falls evenly.

“Would you like to try some?” You offer, having just taken the soup off the fire mere moments ago.

Those crimson eyes that strike fear to the very core of many fixate on you for a moment. “Very well.”

You pull a bowl from a shelf above, grabbing a ladle to spoon a portion of broth into the dish. “It’s hot,” you warn.

The king casts you a glance, unreadable as he holds the bowl within one hand. He brings it to his nose, smelling the broth before taking a sip. Contemplating for a moment, you find yourself holding your breath in the silence, staring at him as you curiously await his review.

Surely he wouldn’t kill you if it was bad.

Right?

His eyes slide from the dish to you, letting out a grunt somewhere between surprise and satisfaction. Within the silence of the kitchen, you can easily make out the approval in his tone as he states, “you are quite the chef, concubine.”

Your eyes come alight with his approval. “Thank you, My Lord.”

“You may carry on,” he brushes you off, bringing the soup along with him as he turns to make his way back out the door. “Do not let the food go to waste,” is his final request, thrown over his shoulder just loud enough to make out. His satisfaction makes the day’s noise seem just a bit quieter.

–

Following that day, you don’t find his presence quite so scary. You’ve beared witness to his anger on bad days, but the most you ever receive, whether caught in the kitchen, or passing him in a hall, is a glance. You can’t discern exactly what his thoughts are on you, but your presence doesn’t seem to irk him quite like some of the other concubines.

That’s something you come to realize on another particularly bad day.

Whether it’s a worse day for you or Sukuna, you can’t be sure.

You’re rarely all summoned at once, let alone even one of you, however theft has been rampant at the estate lately. It would seem for all of the blood spilled across the last few days for this very reason, Sukuna still finds himself unsatisfied with the results. One of the concubines had been kind enough to relay this information to you before you all found yourself bowing before his imposing figure.

This is the first time you’ve found yourself to be a witness to his rage. The tension within his jaw alone could snap necks, you don’t want to know what he could do with the two pairs of burly arms crossed over his broad chest. His robes have been discarded in favor of only a pair of garments covering his lower half. His chest is bare, and you have half a mind to think it’s only to strike fear into the lot of you, given his sheer size.

Any other day, you may have gawked at his impressive display of muscle and tattoos. Today, you follow suit with the other servants and keep your head low.

“Do one of you have an eye for my belongings?” The king snarls. You don’t need to read lips to hear his bellows, his anger ripping straight through the piercing drone.

You remain calm, having no interest in whatever valuables the curse is going on about. You have a feeling he doesn’t much care for the riches within the estate either, it’s simply the principle of it all.

With no reply apart from a couple of whimpers from other concubines, Sukuna takes a step forward, imposingly leaning over the group of concubines. “Shall I ask each of you individually?” he hisses, fire behind his glare that’s unlike that you’ve seen in even the warlords who reside in your village.

He’s unlike any man you’ve ever known.

Uraume stands a short distance away, observing quietly, though they rarely weigh in. You’ve spoken to them on occasion when they had caught you in the kitchen, though much like Sukuna, they allowed you to carry on.

Each concubine quakes when Sukuna paces from side to side, save for you. This life was not unkind to you, given the way your worth had been treated within the village. You don’t fear Sukuna’s rage, for he’s only ever shown you that you aren’t unworthy of fair treatment.

He pauses his pacing directly in front of you, his feet visible from where your gaze remains evenly on the ground.

“Little chef, do you have any insight?” He murmurs in a searing hiss, quiet.

Too quiet.

Oblivious to his words, it all blends into that drone within your mind.

Your lack of reply displeases him. “Concubine,” he snarls, finally drawing your attention. You blink, raising your head. Wide-eyed, you find yourself barely a breadth from the two-faced curse.

And this time, that rage is directed at you. “My Lord?” You quietly reply, uncertain as to what you’ve missed.

“Do you dare not to reply?” He hisses, low. Too low, with too little movement given his snarl. You can’t make his words out.

Your lips open and close as you try to make sense of what you’ve missed, but the words die in your throat as suddenly you’re faced with a fear you had stopped harboring for Sukuna. It chokes you, unable to admit that you’re hard of hearing. The concubines at your side don’t care to risk their lives for you.

Sukuna, unimpressed, stands straight with narrowed eyes. “I expected more of you,” he snarls, his lip curled in disappointment.

“My Lord, I can’t-” you shake your head, peering to either side for help as you’re unable to make his words out again.

It’s at this point that you lock eyes with Uraume, who’s had a revelation cross over them at your strange behavior and the way you carry yourself. “Lord Sukuna, if I may,” they interrupt.

Sukuna’s head whips towards them, the fire in his gaze undying.

“Are you unable to hear?” Uraume queries as they approach you, a curious lilt to their tone. They’re careful to clearly enunciate and keep their tone louder.

“I’m able to hear only when it’s quiet and with louder voices,” you explain, keeping your gaze on Uraume. “I can make out words through watching lips otherwise.”

The curl to Sukuna’s lip slowly lowers as the revelation dampens his rage (towards you, anyway). As you turn your attention from Uraume to face Sukuna once more, you find yourself relieved to see that unreadable expression spread across his features once more. The one that makes you think that he doesn’t mind your presence, even if his eyes narrow in contemplation for a moment.

His tone evens as he addresses you next, loud and with eye contact. “Do you believe any of your fellow concubines to be a thief?” He queries, that piercing gaze now carefully following the way your gaze lowers to read his lips while you listen, as he comes to understand what it is exactly that sets you apart from the rest of the estate.

Unafraid of the king as his wrath is quelled, you glance at the women to either side of you. “No, My Lord.”

“Very well. Consider yourselves grateful,” he growls as he turns, whatever rage he’d had no longer of interest to him.

Why your word was worth so much to him, you can’t be sure. Still, you’re careful to shoot a thankful nod in Uraume’s direction.

–

You run into him more often following that encounter. He’s a man of few words, but somehow it makes him easier to be around.

He doesn’t pay much mind to you one way or the other, but the little things add up.

Passing him in the hallway, you aren’t oblivious to the way that he lets you meet his gaze where others cower.

He even seems unbothered when he finds you picking herbs from his garden. They aren’t intended for your use, and by all accounts could be considered theft, but if he finds it to be such a thing, he doesn’t speak his mind.

In fact, it’s that same night that he finds himself drawn to the kitchen by the smell of seasoned and grilled wild fowl, caught fresh earlier that morning. It’s long past the time that you’re intended to be asleep, but even the guards don’t bother themselves with you anymore. They get food out of it, who are they to complain?

These days, you have more free reign than most of the employ of the King of Curses, but you’ve never considered it to be special treatment.

Maybe you should, in reality.

You don’t hear him approaching, lured to the smell wafting from within the kitchen.

Caught up within the clanking of dishes and crackling of the fire, you aren’t privy to his footsteps. He’s not a quiet man in his movements, but he is a man of few words, and once again he catches you off-guard.

“What are you cooking so late, little chef?” He inquires, his voice loud enough to gather your attention. You shriek in surprise as your spoon is once again sent flying, clattering across the ground.

With one hand on your chest, you tear your gaze from the spoon to face Sukuna. If it were anyone else, you might have chastised them for sneaking up on you, but you don’t dare around the king. “Apologies, My Lord. I didn’t hear you,” you bow your head slightly, though when you meet his gaze, the amusement held within those usually piercing irises tells you he may have done it on purpose.

Asshole.

Something of a smirk pulls at the corner of his lips as he turns his attention to the meal atop a fire. “Wild fowl, correct?” He speaks up.

You nod. “With rice. I used herbs from the garden, I hope you don’t mind.”

He doesn’t grace you with a reply, even as a pair of eyes flicker away from the dish, towards you. You don’t take it personally, he’s never been all that talkative.

“It’s not quite done. Would you like some once it’s finished?”

He nods. “I would.”

You offer a small smile, picking the wooden spoon up off the floor before grabbing a new, clean one to continue cooking the fowl.

“Why do you cook so late into the night, concubine?” He speaks in an even tone, one that breathes curiosity over disdain, close to your ear.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Is that so?” He hums, pondering your revelation. “Are your quarters unsatisfactory?”

You turn to face him with intrigue, continuing to grill the wild bird. “Not at all. Some days are simply worse than others.”

Having piqued his curiosity, you’re surprised when he inquires about you beyond surface-level questions. “How so?”

“I hear ringing. Some days it’s louder than others,” you explain, “but it’s the worst at night, when there are no other sounds. Sometimes I’m unable to drown it out.”

He hums, though you miss the sound, as he straightens. “Is there a remedy?”

You offer a smile, appreciative of the strange kindness he bears. Turning back to the nearly-finished meal, you put out the fire and begin plating the meals. “No, My Lord. There isn’t.”

He takes the portion of food you offer him, smaller than the previous one given that no one else is awake aside from the occasional guard. Hell, you hadn’t expected Sukuna to be awake either.

As he tries the dish, his brow raises only slightly, a warm gleam within his eye that just barely gives away his satisfaction.

You find yourself smiling before you can help it, finding comfort within the shared meal.

He quickly finishes his portion, setting the dish aside as he stands over you. “Had you the option, is there another outlet you might seek over cooking?” He inquires.

“Do you not like the dish?” Your head tilts, but there’s a lilt to your tone that suggests teasing, testing the boundaries of what the king is willing to put up with.

His eyes narrow, and although you don’t hear it, you see the way his chest rises and falls in one heavy motion, a huff. Mild irritation at worst, toleration of your teasing at best. He doesn’t bother dignifying you with a reply, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

You clear your throat. “I used to like reading, if I couldn’t sleep.”

“Do you not enjoy it any longer?”

“I do! I’ve read everything we have, however.”

His brow twitches as he considers your words. He nods finally, blinking slowly. “Very well. You may carry on.”

You’re not sure why that seems to be his chosen words of departure every time he leaves the kitchen, but it’s not the last time you hear it, either.

–

Once or twice a week, he visits. You never know when to expect him, though your own times within the kitchen are equally erratic. Each time, he startles you. By now you know it’s definitely on purpose when you catch a smug smirk on his lips, and find yourself looking over your shoulder every so often.

For that reason, you notice him several weeks later before he can catch you by surprise.

“Keen senses, little chef.”

“Just luck,” you smile in greeting like he isn’t a monster with a low tolerance for others, continuing to stir another bone broth.

“I rather enjoy startling you.”

“I’m sure you do, My Lord,” you agree.

He hums, something of a pleased noise, although it escapes you. His silence brings with it a strange sense of comfort that you can only find within a man like him. Those watchful eyes, ever-observant, don’t breathe of safety like that of a friend, but your strange connection to the man does mirror somewhat of a camaraderie.

He no longer questions when the food will be ready, and you no longer ask if he wants a portion.

He stands over you, never imposing nor in the way, moving when you turn to grab a utensil and retaking his position when you begin ladling it into two bowls.

He rarely even asks what you’re cooking anymore, simply enjoying the taste and allowing you to tell him, should you choose. If you don’t dignify him with an explanation, he’s fine to enjoy the small pleasure.

There’s a small clank as he sets his bowl down, and you expect him to leave without a word. To your surprise, he fixes you with a calculating stare.

“My Lord?”

“You have read everything within the library provided?” He queries out of the blue, his tone deep although he speaks loud.

Your lips purse, blinking. “I have.”

A pair of crimson irises takes in the state of your bowl, nearly finished, scanning the kitchen briefly. Once satisfied with whatever it is he finds, he raises one of his many strong biceps, his robes draping from them as he whisks you away from the kitchen with a hand placed on your lower back.

He’s surprisingly gentle, given what you know of him. Hell, you’ve seen him tear head from body with the simple flick of a wrist for the smallest of errors. You’ve always chalked his kindness towards you up to a good meal and a little bit of luck, but it would seem at some point you earned his favor, too.

He leads you down long winding hallways, long past the point where the rest of the concubines are allowed. Your steps falter when you reach the barrier in which Sukuna scarcely allows people, but his large and steady hand remains in place as he pushes you along.

You’re allowed to peer up at him rather than bow, another perk of having his favor. He dwarfs you in every manner of the word. The markings that trail along his jaw serve to accentuate just how broad and sharp his edges are, equally so to his personality, though you rarely see that side of him.

Coming to a halt at a door down a corridor you don’t recognize, you await his guidance as he pulls a key from within his robe, unlocking the grand door. Pushing it open, he awaits your movement as he holds the heavy door well above your head. You don’t even need to duck to walk under his arm, entering the dimly-lit room. You don’t make it far inside, unable to make out much of anything in the darkness.

Sukuna confidently moves past you, waving a hand over a candle. Your eyes light up with intrigue as it sputters to fiery life suddenly, unaware that the king had any influence over fire. With your path lit just enough to ensure you don’t bump into anything, you trail after him, awaiting any sort of instruction.

Reaching his destination, Sukuna waves a hand once more over a larger bundle of candles and a candelabra, which bring the room into a greater light. As you’re able to take in the room, Sukuna watches with quiet intrigue.

Books surround you on every side, rising far beyond your height into the ceiling. A small window overlooks a garden you’ve never seen with a cushion at its base, while a much larger chair- the perfect size for Sukuna, one might think- sits at the base of a ladder intended to reach the higher annexes. The room has a homely smell to it, one of old paper and melted wax that doesn’t resemble the rest of the estate.

Bringing your gaze back down to meet Sukuna’s, you’re perplexed as to why he’s brought you here.

You’re no fool, you know he’s allowing you access to more books. You know you share something of a connection to him, whether he simply puts up with you or enjoys your presence more than he lets on, but this goes beyond that. Why is he extending so much kindness to you?

He takes a step forward, satisfied with your exploration and silent question. Holding out one hand, he awaits your own, dropping a key into your palm. “You may make use of this area when you are unable to rest.”

Your thumb brushes the length of the brass key, deftly wrapping your fingers around the peripheral. “Thank you, My Lord,” you breathe, turning to take in the sights again as your attention settles on the large chair. “Is this your personal library?”

“It is.”

You can’t help the wonder within your expression at what seems to be every book anyone could ever need, all held within the walls of a library that you’ve been given what you assume to be exclusive access to. Words are beyond you as you slowly approach the wall, your finger brushing the spines of old woven books and fresh prints alike, as though Sukuna keeps an eye out for what might interest him.

“Have you gotten sick of my cooking?” You tease as your fingers brush along the spine of a poetry book, peering back over your shoulder at him.

The king’s eyes narrow at your jest, lips pressed into a thin line as he doesn’t grace you with a reply.

Your smile widens at his disdain for your teasing, as you thank him once more. “Thank you, Lord Sukuna.”

It’s the first time you’ve addressed him as such. As you turn back to the wall, slipping a poetry book from a shelf to flip through, Sukuna finds himself growing fond of the sound coming from your lips.

–

In the weeks that follow, Sukuna never truly knows where he’ll find you. More often than not, it’s tucked into the nook of his personal library, overlooking the garden designated only for him and a couple of servants he tolerates. As weeks turn to months, he finds you in the kitchen on occasion as well.

There’s quiet camaraderie held within the curse’s movement throughout the estate. There are weeks where he’s gone, while those where he’s within the walls of the large property, it’s said that he can be heard bellowing orders.

You never see that side of him..

Sukuna can’t be sure what always seems to lead him through the halls late at night, but if he isn’t drawn to the alluring smell of whatever concoction you have on the fire, his feet still seem to subconsciously carry him to the library.

You always perk up at the sight of the monstrous man, even on the days where he manages to catch you off-guard.

He’s never had the pleasure of seeing another’s eyes light up at the sight of him.

Perhaps he enjoys that about you.

Sometimes, he even finds himself indulging in reading alongside you. He’ll splay out on his own chair as neither of you pay any mind to one another. An unspoken agreement hangs in the balance between you, though on occasion you both find ways to break that agreement.

Your brow twitches. Minute, but not unnoticed.

“Is that book not to your satisfaction?”

Surprised to find him breaking the unspoken agreement, you let the book rest on your lap, blinking at him. “No, that’s not it, My Lord.” You don’t know the way his chest burns as he longs for you to address him by Lord Sukuna once more. “I’m simply contemplating the meaning behind the words.”

His gaze carefully trails to the book in your lap. Slowly, he reclines further as one of his elbows rests on the arm of the chair, if it could even be deemed as a chair, rather than a throne. He rests his jaw on his fist, lazily regarding you. “Indulge me,” he waves another hand, a strange air of relaxation to the king like a cat in the sun.

And so you do. You find that Sukuna can be rather insightful, surprised to come across the fact that he’s actually already read through the entire library, each one held within the walls of this room merely out of the fact that he enjoyed it. Over the months, you even find books that you don’t recognize from before, as though he’s adding to his otherwise dusty collection.

Your conversations pull a smirk from him more often than you care to think about. You chalk it up to that same camaraderie, but as night after night you find yourself engaged in discussion with Sukuna, there’s warmth to be found within the sanctuary he offers only to you.

Although a curse now, Sukuna was once a man. He claims to see humanity as a sign of weakness and if you dare ask, he would proclaim that to the world. But he’s no fool. It’s been months now since he’s shifted his sleep schedule to revolve around these quiet meetings, regardless of whether he’s met with a late night snack or quiet literary discussion.

He may not be entirely familiar with the feelings it stirs within him, but he’s learned to navigate the unfamiliar on his own over the years.

Even if it frustrates him to no end that his mind and body seem to seek you out before he has the sense to reconsider.

Slowly, as the months pass and the phases of the moon greet you from the window each night like a dear friend, he begins to notice your chatter dying. You don’t look up as often from your book when he sighs, and your eyes rarely stray from the page at the sound of him shifting in his seat. The orders of guards well outside the walls that surround you are lost on you, too.

When he approaches you in the kitchen, you’re no longer amused as he startles you, but instead seem frustrated. Your disdain seems directed towards yourself, however, rather than him, and you soften when he finds his usual place beside you.

Some part of him understands that it’s getting worse. That you strain more and more to put pieces of sentences together, even when reading lips.

So, just as he had on the day that he discovered your disability, he adapts.

You don’t know it, but he stomps into the kitchen when you’re cooking. You assume he’s just heavy on his feet, or that maybe you’ve grown better at sensing the vibrations now that your focus falls into your other senses.

He’ll never tell you he’s simply stomping about and bothering the rest of the staff all for your convenience.

But it’s only the first of the changes he makes.

Setting your brass key atop a small table, you shut the door behind you within the library. It’s dark as usual, but you’ve come to know where the sulfur matches await you. You softly sigh as you take the wax stick of the first candle and use it to begin lighting the rest until the room has a soft glow to it.

It’s darker than usual for summer, but your ability to sleep has gotten worse over the months. You know those around you can tell, between the fact that you miss breakfast and you’re often found wandering the halls at odd times of the night. No one dares to question you, not when Sukuna himself lets you be. Done staring wistfully out the window, you go to take your usual spot when you realize the layout of the room has changed.

Sukuna’s chair has disappeared, while the spot where you usually curl up has grown in size, more cushions precisely placed by the windows, many of a larger size. You curiously peer at them, wanting to brush it off as Sukuna being done with his time with you and granting you a larger space for yourself...

But that would be a foolish assumption, when the cushion across from you is so clearly Sukuna-sized.

Your suspicions would be confirmed when you feel the rumble of heavy steps as he approaches the library. Your gaze is already on him when he opens the door, clad in his usual white robes. He doesn’t seem particularly alarmed, let alone bothered, by the fact that his chair has been removed, leading you to believe that it was him, after all.

He takes his time choosing a book, before sitting directly across from you. His mass takes up a large space of your cushioned nook as he leans back against the shelf behind him. Bathed by soft candlelight, his expression seems calmer than usual as he gradually relaxes into the spot, his large limbs tossed haphazardly across the floor at his sides. You smile, returning to your book.

Maybe he just needs the companionship you offer more than you realized.

That’s what you assume, until-

“Do you not sleep anymore, little chef?”

With a hand holding the careful binding of your book open, you sit straighter, blinking as you realize he’s figured you out. The lack of sleep and the worsening of your fifth sense. He’s moved closer so that you can hear him better.

Sukuna is a particularly tough man to read. He constantly wears a neutral, if not disinterested, expression and doesn’t often have much to say, so the fluttering within your chest feels forbidden. You’re a concubine, and you’ll admit you have privilege where others don’t, and yet… he’s never shown an interest in any of his concubines. You have no reason to see yourself as anything beyond another inhabitant between the walls of the estate who bows to the king.

The butterflies in your stomach don’t seem to agree, though.

“I hear ringing,” you begin, “it’s gotten louder recently and makes it harder to hear anything else.”

He grunts, something you piece together only through the way his adam’s apple bobs.

Those are the only words he speaks to you that night. It’s some of the very few he shares with you at all, these days. Your conversations always remained formal, but they still came easily, once upon a time. Now, silence surrounds you.

Yet, the ringing reminds you that you don’t know true silence.

It’s funny; how you long for both true silence and the noise that comes with being able to hear all at once. Instead, you’re granted neither, dulling your sense further and the world with it.

Sukuna can see it killing your spirit.

Simply moving closer, speaking louder, walking with more intent; it isn’t enough.

So he’ll take it a step further.

–

When Uraume’s knock outside your door is met with silence, they quietly enter your quarters, figuring you haven’t heard them. “I apologize for the intrusion,” they loudly proclaim, but there’s not a single sound to greet them. Scanning the room, they return to Sukuna to inform him.

He straightens, scowling as he makes his way to the kitchen, first. He supposes given your sleep schedule that it’s not an unreasonable time to have a meal, but preparations for dinner are already underway and you’re nowhere to be found.

As a couple of wide-eyed servants cower at the sight of Sukuna, he turns on his heels and makes his way to the only other place he can think of to find you.

He supposes maybe he should have started here. With light flooding in through the window above, you resemble a cat basking in the sun, curled up around whatever you were reading last night, still asleep mid-afternoon.

The curse frowns to himself as he stands over your sleeping form. He wonders how often you sleep here, rather than your own quarters, though he’s never caught you until now.

He contemplates leaving you be, though the way that you’re curled up doesn’t look particularly comfortable and it’s mid-afternoon. He huffs, scowling at you as he lowers himself to a seated position, resting an upper hand on your shoulder. He lightly shakes you, rousing you from your sleepy state.

“Lord Sukuna?” You murmur groggily, your hair and clothes disheveled as you sit upright.

“I sent Uraume for you. You weren’t in your quarters,” he spares no time explaining, still scowling. There’s a twitch in his steady composure when you call him Sukuna, that you can’t quite discern.

Whether he’s upset with you or just wearing that expression, you aren’t certain. Like you said before, he’s a tough guy to read. “Apologies, My Lord. I suppose time got away from me.”

“Simply because you have a key does not mean I will allow you to rest within these walls,” he loudly grumbles, his tone strained as he struggles to balance his frustration with something akin to… concern?

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you shift to sit on your knees. “It won’t happen again, My Lord.”

He scoffs, if the way he exhales dramatically is anything to go off of. “What led to this?”

Raising an arm to block the sun that cascades through the window, you squint out at the garden. “Is it midday?”

Sukuna doesn’t reply, awaiting your response to his question first as he continues to scowl at you.

“I…” you trail off, but there’s no reasonable answer to it. You’d just gotten carried away in what you were reading, and you suppose by the time the sun came out and the bustling of the estate drowned out a modicum of the ringing, you just… passed out. “I suppose my late nights caught up to me,” you excuse yourself with a sheepish smile.

You’re sure he huffs based on the way his chest rises and falls in one quick motion.

Getting to your feet, you brush your robes off as your muscles adjust to the waking world. Sukuna follows suit, standing over you with that same knit in his brow that a part of you longs to smooth. Perhaps too bold for someone in your position.

“You sent Uraume for me, My Lord?”

Pulling Sukuna from his glowering stupor, he nods, ensuring he’s visible when he says, “come.”

A hand from his lower pair of arms settles on the small of your back as he leads you past guards that don’t even take a breath as Sukuna turns down a long corridor. You peer through the threshold of a room towards the end of the hall, lips pursing at the realization that you’ve reached his chambers.

As far as you’re aware, no one besides Uraume and the occasional servant have ever so much as witnessed these halls and lived to tell the tale. You have half a mind to think he could kill you for just being here, and yet… the way his hand has settled on your back, maybe not.

A few steps further, Sukuna opens a door towards the end of the hall, one in which some sort of white noise drones from, one that drowns that constant ringing, just a bit. It’s a large room with a bed in the center and a door out to what you assume must be Sukuna’s private gardens. The white noise comes from an indoor waterfall installation, water cascading over an artificial bamboo precipice that loudly trickles into a pool below.

You don’t want to make assumptions, certainly not one that places your personal quarters beside Sukuna’s, but…

What other assumption is there to make?

At a loss for words, you wrap your arms around yourself. “My Lord, is this…?” You can’t even bring yourself to say it. The mere suggestion feels like blasphemy on your tongue.

His hand leaves the small of your back, replaced with one on your shoulder as he takes a step closer when you barely enter the threshold of the room. His body heat radiates against your back, his chest brushing the back of your head when you lift your gaze to peer up at him.

Certain that you’ll be able to read his lips if necessary, he replies in a low tone. “You will sleep here from now on. Uraume will move your belongings. The guards will not stop you.”

You blink up at him, glancing back at his bulky chest as heat rises from the back of your neck to the apples of your cheeks. “Thank you, Lord Sukuna,” you breathe, unable to convey the sense of relief it is to have something to drown out the ringing.

He straightens, a gleam of pride held within those ever-fiery irises. When you turn to face the fountain once more, a giddy smile overtaking your features, Sukuna glides a thick finger along your jaw, pulling your attention back to him. “I will not catch you asleep in the library, do you understand?”

Your eyes widen at the close proximity of his form as he leans close to you, his gaze piercing yours. It pulls the air straight from your lungs as his presence wraps around you, bathing you in his very essence. Your gaze flickers wildly across his face, lingering on his lips, much to his amusement.

“Do you understand?” He repeats himself, a lilt of mirth caught in the air between you.

You nod, unwilling to trust your voice as the very King of Curses that everyone fears gives to you a portion of his soul.

“Good,” he purrs, standing upright. He drops his hand from your chin, stepping back to head back to his daily duties. He pauses before he leaves. “Get some rest,” he instructs. “I would like to request a salmon dish when you are well.”

You have to press your lips into a thin line in order to prevent your smile from breaking through.

–

By some sort of miracle (or maybe the kindness of the man normally seen as a monster), sleep no longer evades you. Throughout the week, your time in the library adjusts to an earlier schedule, and with Sukuna sitting alongside you, it becomes easier to communicate again.

There’s a saccharine affability to Sukuna’s ability to flip on a dime from the rough ruler of the estate, barking orders and noting incompetencies, to the man who sits across from you and shares his favorite literature. You keep your promise not to fall asleep in the library again and even serve him the salmon dish he requested and in return, you find more and more robes and jewelry of increasing quality popping up in your quarters.

It’s overwhelming in a sense, even more so as the other concubines alienate you more and more. At times, you’re grateful you can’t hear their mutterings, but the green gazes that are shot your way are an adjustment.

Still, you keep your head up and continue wandering the halls day after day, busying yourself with whatever piques your interest from moment to moment.

Passing by the throne room, Sukuna’s voice bellows loud enough that you pause at the entrance, casting a glance in his direction. Although you didn’t catch what he said, you’re surprised to find his gaze trained solely on you, his eyes traveling the length of the new robes you wear, a stunning white with vibrant red stitching.

You cock your head questioningly, leading Sukuna to beckon you over with two fingers.

Only once have you ever been a witness to the king’s throne room. He sits atop a massive cushioned seat, one that positively screams of power and strength, at the end of the room, with Uraume and a pair of guards near the doors. Before him, a woman trembles on her knees, an offering laid out in front of her on a cloth.

In spite of the room’s size, with high ceilings and intricate ornaments decorating the edges, the room is stifling.

At least- that’s how it felt when you stood where the woman now is. When you were an offering. You had heard the stories of the warlord with two faces, but the grandeur of his presence felt understated within the lines of texts about him.

Now, standing with your head bowed at Sukuna’s side, the air no longer seems to close in around you. It may not be customary within the library, but you don’t dare act out of line within his own kingly chamber.

His robes rustle as he reaches a hand out to brush your elbow, gathering your attention without a word. “Lift your head,” he instructs, beckoning you closer with two fingers once more, before adjusting his position to leave room for you.

On his lap.

Your cheeks warm, but you find comfort tucked between two bulky biceps and his peck. With your legs thrown over Sukuna’s legs and one forearm lazily settling atop your thigh, you find it easy to get comfortable.

He lowers his head to your level, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks. “Does their offering satisfy you, my little chef?” With your body pressed into his, you can feel the deep vibrations that his voice carries, the sensation making understanding come easier.

You straighten slightly as he calls you his, blinking off the surprise as you stare down at the necklace before the woman. The gold has dulled, but polish will bring the shine back out. “It’s gorgeous,” you comment, curious as to what she’s requesting.

Sukuna eyes you on his lap for a moment, straightening to face the trembling woman. “Very well. I accept your offering.” He lazily waves a hand through the air. “Uraume.”

His most trusted ally steps forward, lifting the cloth and jewelry and setting it aside with other accepted offerings. As you look over the assortment, it seems to range from rare foods and herbs to books and tools with expert craftsmanship.

“Your farm will remain in my territory under my protection, however-” His tone darkens, something you aren’t used to with him. “Should your husband choose to defy me again, an offering of this type will not suffice.”

“Yes, My Lord,” the woman trembles, not daring to look up at him.

“Leave,” he growls dismissively, reclining as he leans his jaw on a fist.

With a simple flick of the king’s wrist, Uraume is bringing in another group. A man, a woman, and who you can only assume is their daughter, a gorgeous woman around your age who clings to her mother whose head is ducked in shame.

“Lord Sukuna,” the man bows, though brimming with confidence unlike the last woman. “In exchange for the protection of my village, I offer my first-born as a concubine.”

You can’t make out a majority of his lowly spoken words from where you sit, but you don’t need to given the context. You’ve been in the very position of the woman who seems to be silently begging her parents not to sell her off as a bargaining chip. Your stomach churns, something between disdain for the man, and something far greener at the prospect of Sukuna accepting a concubine when now is certainly not the time.

While you may not have heard the man’s full statement, you do feel Sukuna’s huff. “Oh?” Sukuna leans forward at your side, his head beside yours with a much darker expression than you’re accustomed to.

The man’s confidence wavers, but he puffs out his chest, proceeding to list the tasks his daughter excels at. You have half a mind to question if she’s being offered as a concubine or a servant, or whether her father simply doesn’t care.

A chill runs coolly up your spine, uneasiness prickling at the back of your neck. As the man drones on, Sukuna turns his attention to you, stiff within his grasp. He quietly observes your scowl, using one gentle finger to turn your head to look at him. “Is your uneasiness due to my duties, or the offering?”

You purse your lips, casting a sidelong glance at the offering in question. “The offering.”

“I see.”

“Why do you take concubines, if you don’t spend time with any of them- us-” you correct yourself, “- My Lord?”

Sukuna’s chest rumbles dangerously behind you. “Are you jealous, little concubine?”

Your mouth opens, closes, and opens again before you steel yourself. “No,” you murmur.

“No?” He parrots, amused. “Then to what do I owe your envious questioning?”

You hesitate again, struggling to come up with anything reasonable as a reply. There’s no way out of his question that doesn’t show the true color of your inquiry.

Sukuna laughs lowly under you again, lowering his head to your ear. “Let me ask you something,” he begins, his eyes trained viciously on the man ahead of him. “Had I not taken you, where would you be now?”

Your brow furrows as you consider his question. “I don’t know,” you admit.

“Your lives are nothing more than bargaining chips to these warlords and wretches. Were you not my concubines, you would be another’s, or perhaps a servant, and not of your own accord, correct?”

“You’re… sparing us?” You query, turning your head incredulously to face him. As much as you’ve grown to earn his favor and even learned to admire the king in response to his kindness, you’ve never known him to be benevolent. You’ve turned your head up at the screams of those damned by Sukuna, and you’ve seen his rage over something that’s purely principle. You know what meat lies within the kitchen every night. So… “Why?”

Sukuna shifts beneath you, his arm wrapping around your waist with possessive intent. “I am not fond of humanity, nor their intentions,” he explains close to your ear, his voice in a near-growl. “However, I am less fond of the idea that some deem their own spawn to be lowered to nothing more than a gift.”

You blink, peering up at his sharp jawline.

“I have no interest in those who don’t come to me of their own volition,” he dismisses your question. “You are all free to live here, so long as you stay out of my business,” he gruffs.

“The concubines are free to leave?”

He hums, felt under the weight of his arm. “That is correct.”

You blink, having never considered leaving, as if there’s some unspoken rule that you quietly and quickly internalized. “What about the servants?”

His gaze flickers down to you, otherwise unmoving. “They willingly offered their own services in exchange for one thing or another.”

You nod in understanding, turning your attention to the man who holds his daughter’s wrist firmly, shuffling under Sukuna’s harsh stare. He hunches forward, a dark grin lifting his lips as he finally has a response for the sleazy man.

“Do I appear to be in need of any concubines?” He challenges, low and slow, almost serpentine in the way he oozes condescension and disdain.

The man’s gaze shifts to you, his brow quirking. “There is value in more than one concubine.”

Something between a grunt and a growl rumbles deep within Sukuna’s chest, predatory in the way he regards the man like a small animal. The curse looks at him like something meant to join the ranks of the kitchen- and not in the way you often do.

“There is value,” Sukuna hisses, “in keeping your mouth shut.” You can feel the rage burning from the surface of his skin, searing in the spot where his arm remains firmly around your waist. “Uraume.”

This isn’t Uraume’s first brush with this situation. The white-haired curse-user moves gracefully through the room, not a shred of evidence as to what they’re thinking written within the creases of their neutrality. They lead the new concubine past the guards and into the depths of the estate, the entire scenario reminding you far too much of your arrival here.

Sukuna’s gaze follows, and once he’s certain they’re out of earshot, he faces the concubine’s parents once more. His eyes slide from one parent to the other, reading the mother’s fear, and the father’s pride.

He raises a hand, and without a word, the sleazy man sputters, blood spurting from his mouth, before his body slumps to the floor, dismembered from his head. You go rigid at the sight, your breaths coming faster at the suddenness with which the man is no longer a thought for Sukuna. He shifts his attention to the woman, whose hands cover her mouth as she panics, falling to her knees as she begins pleading with Sukuna. Not for her husband’s life or even her own, but her daughter’s.

“Silence,” Sukuna bellows in a snarl. The trembling woman bows her head sharply. “You will bring his head to your village and advise those in charge that I do not desire more humans, lest you wish to sacrifice the meat off their bones,” he growls, eyes narrowed.

“Y-yes, My Lord,” she whimpers. “My daughter, will she-?”

“She may return, should she so choose,” he mutters dismissively, sitting upright as he returns to a lazily seated position, sprawling himself out once more. “Though I have yet to bear witness to a concubine leaving my estate.”

“Of course, M-” She chokes on a fearful sob. “My Lord.” With a final bow, she shakily takes her late husband’s head and retreats in a flurry of limbs and cheap fabrics.

As Sukuna instructs Uraume to grab servants to clean up the mess and bring the man to the kitchen- something you do not want to think too hard about- you chew on your lip. Once the room is clean and the smell of iron has been replaced with that of incense, Sukuna dismisses everyone save for the guards at the door.

Leaning back in his chair, he briefly shuts his eyes, waiting a solid few moments before he lets out a breath, his attention given in full to you. With one arm still firmly holding your waist, he raises another to glide along your jaw, pulling your gaze to him. Crimson irises examine your expression as he lets his thumb slide up to your lips, pressing down on your lower lip and sliding it off.

Deep within your chest, you shudder at the feeling of his calloused skin sliding across yours. His lidded eyes follow the movement of his thumb. “Speak your mind,” he murmurs, shifting his hand to grip your waist with more fervor. There’s curiosity for him in the fact that you seek his touch despite watching him kill someone with a flick of his wrist.

“Why did you kill him?”

His lip curls into a smirk. “I will not be offered meek humans.”

“Is that not what I am?”

“Human, perhaps,” he leans closer, “meek, no.” He purrs. “I would never have caught you in my kitchen without permission, were you meek,” he scoffs, but there’s amusement caught within his tone, woven into the syllables. You aren’t loudly defiant, but a quiet and respectful sort of bold that he enjoys. You don’t fear the king, so you feel no need to seek permission where others do.

It’s that fearlessness and the freedom you feel to challenge him that draws him to you.

You’re strong, not because of what you’ve been through, but in spite of it.

Although heat rises to the tips of your ears, you still question the king. “Did he need to die to prove that point?”

“Does it bother you that I killed him?” Sukuna queries, eyes narrowed as he carefully inspects your expression. Your brows knit, deep in thought as you internalize his question, considering the new revelation that he had likely done the same with your own family.

Does it bother you that he killed that man? That he killed your father, if you had to guess?

Does it bother you that he sent the head of a man who tried to sell you like cattle back to your village?

“No,” you reply with finality, something gleaming within your eyes that makes Sukuna grin, a wild look igniting within his own gaze.

“I expected as much,” he hums, more to himself than you as a simple observation. “I am pleased to find that’s the case.” His hand brushes the apple of your cheek with just the slightest tremor. Not one that suggests he’s scared, for the King of Curses doesn’t feel such a thing, but one that suggests he’s holding back.

You test that theory as your sultry gaze finds his lips.

He inhales a long breath, recognizing your temptation. “I have duties to attend to,” he hums, “I will find you tonight.”

–

After having been dismissed, you wander the halls with more authority than you’re accustomed to. Although you’ve never been stopped before, you don’t usually have heads ducking and bowing to you, either. You wonder what Sukuna mentioned to change such a thing, or whether there’s simply been a shift in the atmosphere that comes with sitting atop the throne.

It’s a strange sensation, but what’s even stranger is coming across Sukuna in the courtyard, discussing something with Uraume, when his newest concubine, the one he just accepted, shyly strolls over, bowing to thank him. He doesn’t seem too interested, waving her off with an unoccupied hand, when she suddenly tugs on the front of his robe and grabs his attention.

Although somewhat irritable when he replies, you watch his attention turn to her again when she places a hand on his abdomen, running it up his chest. Unable to make out what they’re saying, you slip away with a frown, moving through the halls with that same authority that you aren’t quite sure what to do with.

The unheard conversation with the new concubine invades your mind against your will. No matter how much you tell yourself you have no business being jealous, and no reason to be jealous, it would seem the devil on your shoulder whispers otherwise.

For someone with poor hearing, that devil is awfully loud.

As the bustling of the estate begins to die down and the ringing grows louder, you retreat to your room, but your restlessness remains. Moonlight pours through the sheer curtains that face Sukuna’s private garden, and when the guards don’t stop you from entering it, you figure you’ll ask for forgiveness from Sukuna later, should he be bothered that you’re in his garden.

His personal gardens consist of less herbs and more personalized plant choices, each one piquing your curiosity. A small creek runs from the edge of the estate to the outer walls of the garden, protected in the shadows cast by tall hedges that close it in. At the end of the garden is what you assume to be a small hot spring given the region, and a gazebo next to it.

Taking notice of it and enjoying the sounds of the running water that doesn’t make everything seem so quiet, you take a seat at the edge of the gazebo,watching the way water flows from the creek into the edge of the bubbling stone pool.

It almost feels silent. As close to true silence as you may ever feel, relieved from the ringing by the white noise of water.

Yet that damn little devil on your shoulder. You want to swat at it, but there’s no use.

You can’t count how many minutes, maybe even hours, that you sit by the creek, but Sukuna doesn’t look pleased when he finds you.

Your head whips around as the boards beneath you shift, finding a frustrated Sukuna standing with two pairs of crossed arms. He mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch, but your confused expression seems to soften his disdain.

He frowns as he stands above you, speaking in a bellow he’s certain you can hear. “I thought you left the estate.”

“No, My Lord.” But you give him no explanation for disappearing from your two regular spots without a word.

“What has drawn you to my private gardens, then?” He makes a point of emphasizing your defiance.

“Would you like me to leave?” You query, eyes narrowed just enough to tell Sukuna you aren’t afraid of him.

“Speak your mind. I will not tolerate your questions,” he hisses loudly, the wrinkle of his nose suggesting frustration that runs beyond the regular teasing you take part in.

Your brow twitches as you turn your head from him, denying him from knowing if you can hear him. It forces him down to your level so that he guarantees that you do. To your shock, he doesn’t simply command you to give him your attention while you speak, but rather takes a seat behind you, with one leg bent and one knee raised. He rests an arm atop his knee, huffing irritably given that you can’t hear it.

You still face away as you speak. “What did the concubine want?”

It takes a moment for him to reply, loud and even. “She wished for my bed.”

You don’t reply.

He huffs again, his own outlet before he faces your envy. He states your name, successfully pulling your attention to him as your head whips around at the use of your given name. Before you have the chance to process what’s going on, his massive form slides forward as he places one leg on either side of you, pressing your back into his chest as his lower hands roam from your hips up to your waist, settling possessively there. “If I have not made myself clear,” he begins, a low drawl in your ear, “I have no interest in taking new concubines. I have no interest in having any at all.”

As if the ringing wasn’t enough, your heart beats in your ears, your blood running cold at the revelation. Slowly, you lift your head to peer over your shoulder where the king’s gaze looms as he examines your expression.

“I do not share this wing of the estate with just anyone,” he tacks on. “Or had you not noticed the way the guards bow to you, too?”

“I had, I just…”

When you trail off, Sukuna continues. “My favor is not easily earned. I do not wish for the attention of concubines.”

“But you want mine?”

You know he does.

He knows that you know that.

He also knows that you’re playing a little game to get him to admit it.

“I do,” he concedes, pleased with the giddy smile you try to hide. One hand slides from your waist down to the top of your thigh, which he squeezes. “Join me for dinner tomorrow.”

“I won’t eat what you do,” you warn, only half teasing.

“I would expect no such thing. I know your preferences, the kitchen will be made aware.”

“I don’t sleep very well,” you warn again, as though serving him a laundry list of baggage will dispel him.

“I am aware of your tendencies,” he chides, lifting an upper arm to graze your collar, sliding up to rest along the column of your neck. There’s something equally tender about the action as it is possessive, seeping in everything Sukuna embodies to the very core.

“I might not always be able to hear you,” you tack on quietly, your vulnerabilities breathed into the limited air hanging between you.

Sukuna inhales, long and deep, as those crimson eyes take in the way you expose your self-doubt to him.

There’s strength held within the ability to speak to a man like Sukuna about thoughts that plague your mind. His brow knits in that way that you’ve come to recognize, as though he’s truly seeing you. All of you. In a deathly serious tone, he replies, “there is much more to communication than words.” He leans in closer, his lips barely a breadth from your jaw as he spares a moment to allow your mind to mull over his words.

You glance over at him, but find no reason to doubt him. Sukuna isn’t one to beat around the bush or waste time. It’s as he said, he wants to make his intentions clear. After months of spending time with one another, he’s grown more than just fond of you, the connection that you share something much deeper.

As Sukuna patiently awaits for your thoughts to catch up, you find yourself mindlessly stroking the marking on his wrist that’s settled on your waist with your thumb. Slowly, you nod.

“See? No words needed,” he hums, leaning forward to press a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips. When he pulls back, he’s smirking as he feels your pulse increase beneath his palm on your neck. “Cute,” he hums, tilting your head closer to him as he leans in more hungrily this time. His lips move against yours eagerly and for once you feel like you can melt into him. There are no doubts held between you, and no questions unanswered.

It’s not adoration or care that you would use to describe the kiss. It embodies everything that Sukuna is, searing and all-engulfing. To your surprise, Sukuna tastes strongly of tea, the one he often brings with him to the library. Strong, and green. It’s pleasant as his tongue invades your mouth, but what’s more pleasant is the way your core heats up as he squeezes your neck just the slightest bit.

Your tongue dances with his when the action pulls a small gasp from you.

God, is he ever right when he says that there’s more to communication than words. He reads you like a book. He acts on every little twitch and gasp, repeating movements that cause you to react.

No longer satisfied with just kissing, he separates from you with heavy breaths and moves over you, his knees caging you onto the planks of the gazebo. “Let me show you what I can do without words,” he growls, piercing and hungry eyes boring straight into you, like you’re the only thing he can see.

You don’t so much as hesitate as you breathe out, ‘yes,’ taking his face between your palms and pulling him back to your lips. His tongue swipes your lower lip, granted access as the muscle plunges into your mouth. He’s not gentle, in spite of the way he usually acts with you, he’s rough, claiming. While two hands hold him up, the other two dip beneath your robes, exposing your shoulders and breasts to him.

He parts from your lips to drink in your appearance. Unable to hold back, he dips down to plant rough and dominant kisses atop the smooth skin. “Beautiful,” he mutters. He knows you don’t hear it, but the way his voice vibrates against your skin, he knows you get it.

He’s right to assume you understand nonetheless when your breath stutters under the weight of his lips latching to your skin, decorating and painting the landscape in hues of blue and purple.

He pauses at the bow tied delicately at your waist, a silent question searing within his eyes. When you reach down to undo it for him and reveal your skin, his breath is as warm as the fire that burns behind his darkened eyes. You cling to his biceps that hold him over you for purchase as he takes his time exploring the expanse of your skin, lingering on your hips as he nips at one experimentally.

You let out a small yelp, your nails leaving crescents in the dip of the muscle of his forearm. Chasing the way that your reaction makes him feel, he smooths his tongue over the spot he bit, savoring your whimper.

“My dove,” he murmurs as he makes his way down to your thighs. You part them for him, his hungry exhale hot on your soaking core. His upper pair of arms hold your thighs down, pressed into your chest as an unoccupied hand slides down to roughly grope your ass. He may not say a word, but his eyes speak volumes as he soaks in the tantalizing sight before him.

Moving up from your ass, his two middle and ring fingers glide through your folds. The simple motion is enough to send your heart racing, but despite the way the blood roars in your ears and the tinnitus screams, your entire attention is focused on that feeling. You don't need to hear as the world narrows down to just the two of you in the moonlit private garden.

The king brings a hand up to his mouth, licking the pad of his thumb before pressing it into your clit, rubbing firm circles against the sensitive bud. He isn't gentle by any means, but he’s careful. There's meaning behind the way his fingers dig into the plush of your thighs as you squirm under the pleasure he rubs into you.

It’s your shaky exhale that sends him to heaven, though. He grunts, involuntary and with no clue if you've heard it. Unable to wait a moment longer with you laid out beneath him so gorgeously, he splits his gaze, eyeing both your face and your pussy as he buries his tongue within you.

It pulls a gasp from the depths of your chest as you reach out to cling desperately to anything, your fingers catching on the ridges between planks of smooth wood. Your back arches as you ride Sukuna, his tongue delving into you before being pulled out to roll over your clit. The stimulation has your body trying to push him away involuntarily, all too much, but Sukuna drags you back with a muttered growl of, “don't run.” You may not have heard, but you feel his fingers flex into your skin as he pulls you closer and presses you into the gazebo to keep you in place.

He doesn't need words. He’s a man of very few as is, so he puts his focus into shutting out the world for you.

Desperate for purchase, your hand finds his hair, burying within it as you press him harder into you, so close, teetering on the edge.

“Patience,” his hisses against your folds, the vibration held within his throat reaching your core as heat pools at the base of your abdomen.

As you moan softly at the sensation, he pulls away and pins your arms down, using another hand to press down against your stomach when a finger prods at your slit. He gathers your slick on the pad of his finger, using it as lubricant to push inside. One digit alone and you're already feeling the burn of your walls adjusting around him. So slowly it's almost downright painful, he curls his finger and carefully watches your reactions.

Your body twitches and jerks each time he prods the gummy part of your walls, leaving a smirk on his face as his length tents beneath his light robes.

Once your walls begin to give and let him move his finger freely within you, he presses another one in alongside the first. The stretch takes more time to adjust this time around, and with each small pump of his fingers to allow you to get accustomed with the size difference between you, the curse grows impatient and reaches down to fist one of his cocks.

A whimper parts your lips as he curls his fingers in tandem, prodding your g-spot. It's experimental at first, but the vicious curl of his lips that follows tells you all you need to know about Sukuna. Leaning over you, he presses his lips to yours, hungry and with intent while he bullies the walls of your cunt.

The way your stomach coils isn't slow or gradual, it hits you all at once, and suddenly. Your walls clamp down around his fingers as you hit your climax and your head falls back. Moaning loudly, Sukuna grins as he’s sure the whole estate can hear your pliant scream. He works you through your orgasm with purposeful and rhythmic thrusts of his fingers, the sensation rocking you as your thighs tremble in his hold.

“Satisfied, little dove?” Sukuna whispers darkly into your ear, pulling back barely a breadth so he can have you watch the way he licks your essence from his fingers. Your chest rises and falls quickly, breathing labored from the taxing sensation of an orgasm ripped from you with masterful precision.

If you had another life before this one, you're certain Sukuna knew you then and remembered how to please you.

You wouldn't put it past him, given what you know of his nature.

Finally coming down from your high, you nod in reply to him.

“Good,” he hums, glancing back behind him before untying his own robes and letting them fall to the grass as he steps off the gazebo. He circles all four arms around you, lifting you gently and with ease as he backs into the hot spring and lowers himself.

It’s deeper than you expected, warm and relaxing on your muscles. Slumping into the embrace of the spring, you rest against Sukuna.

His watchful eyes drink you in, lingering on your shoulders as he gazes sidelong at your face buried into his neck.

“I wasn't aware you felt that way, My Lord.”

“No more formalities,” he grunts, ignoring your statement altogether. “You will call me Sukuna.”

He can feel your smile against his skin. “Sukuna,” you test out the name without any mention of the term ‘lord’. He hums in approval, his stoic gaze watching with interest as you raise your head. “Am I to assume you don't want me to return to my village, then?”

His brow knits tightly, scowling before he has time to process your bait. “You would return after our night together?”

You giggle to yourself, shaking your head as you further antagonize him. “No, I just wanted to get a rise out of you.”

He huffs, if his dramatic eye roll is anything to go off of. “You test my patience,” he mutters though the very act of teasing him causes his cocks to twitch between you.

Smirking at the sensation, you lower a hand to return the favor, when you come to realize that there isn't one, but two awaiting you. Both thick, twitching, and hard with prominent veins. Like the rest of Sukuna, he continues to surprise you. Your lips part as you stare down at the water beneath you, barely lit by the moon high above.

As it stands, his fingers were a lot to take. Everything about the lord of the estate is monstrous in size, but he couldn't possibly expect you to take both, right?

“Look at what you do to me,” he purrs, one hand on either of your biceps as though he fears your still-quaking thighs won't hold you upright even with the water’s support.

Swallowing hard, you peer up at him, something between uncertainty and eagerness swimming within your irises.

“Show me what you would like, dove.” He motions for you to take what you want from him, watching expectantly as your hands, tiny in comparison to him, fist both shafts, stroking in a long up and down motion.

He inhales deeply, head falling back slightly though he never takes his eyes off you.

“Will you continue to take concubines?” You ask suddenly, a hint of jealousy within your tone.

Sukuna, occupied by the pleasure of your soft palms, takes a moment to reply. “I will allow unwilling offerings to stay within the estate,” he replies steadily, fixing you with a serious stare when your movement slows. “They will no longer be concubines, however. They will be residents only.”

Pride floods your chest. “I’ll be your only concubine?”

Sukuna looms over you, taking both wrists in his hands. Perhaps a scary sight to others, it puts you strangely at ease to see him stalking over you, slowly pressing you into the stone wall of the hot spring. “You,” he states, lidded eyes drinking in your expression as he ruts both cocks against you. “Will be my Queen.”

Thank god for him taking the time to stretch you out, because you fear the sensation of being pulled down on his length may very well have killed you otherwise. He lines his top cock up at your entrance and pushes in slowly, pausing at the first ring of resistance as you cling to him. He splits you open, despite how slow and gentle he is. His kisses on your neck are gentle, reassuring, and yet they sear with need, claiming you.

As he bottoms out and grunts against your skin, biting down lightly, you find yourself clinging to him out of desperation. He’s the only thing keeping you upright as your legs tremble around his girthy shaft. He fills you entirely, and you’re barely left with the ability to think straight. Everything about him is all-encompassing, the world unable to provide a single distraction when your entire body screams out for him, him, him.

“Would you like me to move, my queen?”

Eagerly, you nod as your nails rake his back when he does so. Every thick vein, every twitch, every jolt, it all speaks the words so that Sukuna doesn't need to. At some point, you became his obsession. His nightly escapades began as little more than curiosity and grew into something consuming. Turned him into something consuming.

As you feel him expertly gliding against your walls at a restrained pace, moans and whimpers pour from your mouth, feeding his desperation until he’s slamming his hips into you with fervor. He relishes in your sweet noises, when you suddenly feel something prodding your clit. Your body jolts at the unexpected stimulation before melting entirely when his stomach tongue flicks the nerve again.

Never have you experienced anything so intense and animalistic, yet so passionate as he shows you how little he needs words. He figures out the language of your body so quickly, turning your muscles pliant as you bounce on his cock.

Your orgasm doesn't sneak up on you this time, you ride the sensation of being on the edge as your nails rake his back, until he feels you clamp around him. “So tight,” he hisses to himself, his speed ramping up as he uses his second mouth to suck on your clit, sending you straight over the edge with a scream of his name. This time, he’s mean as he fucks you through it, chasing his own high as you cling to him with shaking limbs while your orgasm rocks you like a wave.

Gasping when he brushes your g-spot just right, you shudder and clamp down around him again. His pace stutters and gives out as he spills deep within your cunt, holding you tightly to him as his own chest heaves. His cum is warm in your sensitive pussy, as you’re thrown into an overstimulated sensation that makes you whimper when he pulls out slowly.

He holds you tight against his body as you breathe in the shared glow of one another, his body slumping back against smooth stones with you slumped on his chest.

“You’re right,” you murmur between pants. “We don't need words.”

He hums as his fingers brush your shoulder and a surprisingly soft kiss is pressed to your neck.

–

Just as you warned him, your hearing fades entirely.

For a long time, it frustrates you. You long to hear your husband’s baritone and grumpy voice, you long for the whispers of guards deep in discussion about the servant you wouldn't allow Sukuna to kill for a mundane hiccup.

He knows. He sees the way you eye whispering guards, confusion rife across your features as you attempt to read their lips and dissect their phrases, but no matter how good you get at it, you never quite seem to get the full story.

But like he always does, Sukuna adapts.

He lets his hand linger on your cheek on the days you struggle with self-worth, he nips playfully at you in jest when he catches his queen cooking her own meal out of stress. Sometimes, he writes little notes. Sukuna, the King of Curses, writes you notes.

He’s rarely around to see you find them, so you think, but quietly from around the corner, he watches with relief as your eyes light up and you go in search of him. He watches you bound off in the wrong direction, wondering what God presented him with someone so benevolent and kind.

You share small signals with one another. A hand sign for slipping away when you’re overwhelmed, a squeeze of your hip to let you know your king is needy, or a careful hand on your cheek to wake you up without startling you. He still stomps around, he moves loudly and with purpose to make sure you can always find him just by the movement of the estate, and rarely does he speak without facing you, giving you the opportunity to understand, even if the matter doesn't concern you.

He loves you, in a silent sort of way. A way that works because your connection runs deep.

Only one time, many moons after being plunged into constant ringing, he made a loud show of affection, reserved only for you.

A book. Simple, elegant, bound with precision. Within, a series of notes. Each one dated right down to the phase of the moon, documenting little moments. Jokes shared between you, things you may have missed.

He denies it, claims he bought it from a merchant, as though you don't have hundreds of well-crafted pages of notes to compare the handwriting to.

But you let him have that claim, because you know the truth. You know that within the way Sukuna places you at the center of his world, he will be your ears when you can no longer hear.

masterlist

❦ a/n ; i wanna lick him

writing & format © starmapz. dividers © saradika-graphics & cafekitsune.

3K notes · View notes

cheolinn · 4 days ago

Text

Is There Someone Else? . ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ .

synopsis: you moan another LI's name during sex. based on this ask ♡

content: SMUT.

zayne . ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ .

You straddled him, hips rocking deliberately, a teasing, controlled rhythm that left him gasping beneath you. Zayne leaned back on his elbows, letting you take the lead, but his hands weren’t idle. Fingers pressed along the curve of your hips, thumbs grazing the sensitive skin at the junction of thigh and hip. One hand drifted higher, brushing over the soft swell of your waist, tracing the gentle hollow beneath your ribs before settling to anchor you right where he wanted.

“God, look at you,” he breathed, voice steady but warm, eyes following every shift of your hips, every subtle tensing of your muscles under his fingers. “You’re so beautiful like this, on top of me — taking what you need.”

Your hands braced on his chest as you leaned forward, lips brushing over his collarbone. He groaned softly, the vibration against your palm sending tiny sparks of pleasure through you. His fingers pressed into your hips, then slid over the tender sides of your waist, up to your chest, rolling and pinching your nipples between cool fingers. Every tiny press, every careful stroke, made your body respond instinctively, moving in sync with his hands and the heat radiating off him.

His touch wasn’t just guidance — it was exploration, reverence, the kind of heat that made your chest tighten and a shiver roll down your spine. His low murmurs against your chest and neck carried a weight, each word vibrating through your skin, a tether keeping you tethered to the present, to him.

You tilted your head, breath hitching, and it slipped out — ragged, unthinking, a whisper of desire:

“Fuck– Caleb, right there,”

For a heartbeat, Zayne froze beneath you. His chest still rose and fell, but the sound of your voice caught him off guard. His jaw tightened slightly, a shadow passing over his features — a flash of hurt, just enough for you to feel the subtle shift in his touch. His thumbs pressed harder into your hips, grounding you, but there was a tense stillness in him, a pause in his usually calm cadence.

“You… said his name,” he murmured, voice low, almost a whisper, carrying a trace of that unexpected sting. His hands gripped your hips firmly now, but not roughly — just enough to tether you to him, to remind you where you were.

Your cheeks flushed, and you leaned closer, trying to meet his gaze, but he shook his head slightly, a quiet, controlled exhale escaping him. “Are you… thinking about him?”

“No– I don’t know why I…” you trailed off, unsure how to explain such a slip to him.

“Mine,” he said, firm now, reclaiming himself and you. His grip adjusted, sliding up your torso, palms molding to your curves like he was memorizing every inch. “Say it again — say my name.”

Your hips rocked against him again, guided by his hands, and your moans broke out in ragged bursts, now tethered to him alone. “Ngh–Zayne… Zayne…” you gasped, voice trembling, meeting his stare.

A faint chill brushed your skin where his fingers trailed up to cup your breasts again — a whisper of frost sparking under his touch, subtle but unmistakable, like the smallest hint of his Evol stirring beneath the surface. He rolled your nipple between his fingers, then leaned up to catch the other between his lips, sucking hard enough to make you cry out. His other hand slipped lower, finding your clit with perfect precision, circling in tandem with the way he thrust up into you. It wasn’t frantic — it was devastatingly controlled, calculated, the rhythm of a man who knew every weakness in your body and exploited them ruthlessly.

“Good,” he murmured against your chest, tongue flicking over your sensitive peak before his lips sealed around it again. “Focus on me. Every moan, every movement… mine. Only mine. Don’t let your mind wander again.”

You gasped against him, hands sliding up into his hair as your body trembled under the dual assault of his mouth and his hand. Your hips stuttered, pace faltering as the pleasure climbed too high to maintain composure. Zayne adjusted instantly, steadying your rhythm with a firm grip at your waist while his thumb pressed harder against your clit, coaxing your surrender with infuriating skill.

“We belong to each other," he whispered, voice softening but firm, green eyes locking onto yours with searing intensity. The frost at his fingertips spread just enough to tingle along your skin, a cool contrast to the molten heat building between you. “Even in thought… even in your fantasies. Don’t forget it. Please, Darling.”

The plea cracked something inside you — and when you cried out his name again, louder this time, every syllable came out as surrender. He groaned low in his chest, lips dragging from your breast to your throat, teeth scraping lightly as he thrust up into you harder, perfectly timed with the roll of his thumb.

Your orgasm hit fast, brutal, every nerve alight as you shook against him. He didn’t let up, holding you to him, forcing you to ride it out, his hand and hips working you through wave after wave until tears pricked your eyes. The sound of your broken moans, his name spilling from your lips, pulled him with you — his pace faltered, grip tightening on your hips as his body shuddered.

“That’s it, Darling—fuck—feel it,” he growled, pulling your hips flush to his, forehead pressing against yours. The heat of him spilled into you, his voice breaking with the force of his release. “All of it. It’s for me—not him.”

The two of you clung together through it, his lips brushing yours in soft, grounding kisses even as his body trembled beneath you. Zayne’s hands never left you — still cupping your breast, fingers still tracing delicate circles into your skin like he couldn’t bear to stop touching, couldn’t bear to let go.

As his breathing steadied, the small hints of frost lingering like a whisper of the power beneath his calm, Zayne kept you straddling him, tethered by both desire and ownership. Every movement, every moan, every press of your body against his reinforced the truth: you were his, and in this moment, he would make sure you never forgot it.

He pulled you gently down onto his chest once the heat had ebbed, arms wrapping around you with deliberate care. Your bodies were sticky, breathless, flushed together, and for a moment, he just held you, letting you feel his steady heartbeat beneath your ear.

Then his voice came, low but gentle, threaded with concern. “Hey… look at me.” His hands tilted your face, thumb brushing along your cheek. “Why did you say his name?”

You hesitated, biting your lip, eyes flicking down. He pressed a finger under your chin, lifting it so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes were calm, but there was a depth there — a quiet intensity that demanded honesty.

“I… I don’t know,” you whispered, cheeks warming further. “It just… slipped…”

He exhaled slowly, fingers tracing the curve of your jaw. “Was I… not making you happy?” His question wasn’t accusatory, just searching, probing — an anchor in the aftermath of the earlier intensity.

You shook your head quickly, words catching in your throat. “No… it’s not that. It’s just—”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose, letting you collapse against him. “You’ve fantasized, and that’s… human. But hear me, darling: I’ve been here for you. I’ll always be here. But nobody—no one—could fulfill you the way I do. Not him, not anyone else. Only me.”

His hands roamed over your back, careful, tender, yet possessive, pressing you closer into the curve of his chest. “You’re mine,” he murmured, letting the words settle, letting you feel them in your bones. “And I won’t allow you to forget it. You belong to me, and I to you, and I will always hold you this way.”

He lingered there, soft touches and whispered reassurances blending with the quiet rhythm of your breathing, creating a cocoon of intimacy. His thumb traced circles on your hip, and his voice, calm but firm, wove a promise around you.

“You don’t need to think about anyone else,” he said gently. “Not while you’re here. Not while it’s me.”

And in that quiet aftercare, holding you close, Zayne’s earlier flare of hurt melted into protective warmth — possessive, devoted, and unwavering. He didn’t let the slip erase what had just happened between you; instead, he cemented it, ensuring you felt both desired and safe, tethered to him in every sense.

xavier. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ .

He had you sprawled across the bed, hands and lips reverent, mouth tracing every inch of you like he’d memorized you by heart. His silver hair brushed your thighs as he worked his way down, and the faint scent of him — lavender and warmth — filled your senses. His lips pressed soft, lingering kisses along the curve of your inner thighs, and his tongue flicked out in deliberate, teasing strokes, tasting, memorizing, savoring.

His blue eyes flicked up at you every now and then, soft and glowing with devotion, before returning to the task of driving you crazy. “I missed you so much, my star,” he murmured, lips brushing against your folds, tongue teasing in deliberate, measured strokes. “Always so sweet for me,”

His hands pressed against your lower stomach, holding you steady as you pressed back against him, grinding into his face with desperate need. Fingers tangled in his silver hair, pulling lightly, urging him closer, deeper, and he responded with a hum that vibrated straight through you. Every flick of his tongue, every press of his lips, made your back arch, your thighs quiver, and your nails dig into the sheets.

The warmth of him, the rhythm of his mouth, the way he could make you shiver and moan without ever touching you anywhere else — it was intoxicating. Your body trembled as he alternated between slow, teasing laps and firmer, more insistent presses that left you gasping and grinding against him, unable to get enough.

He held you firmly by the hips, leaning into the motion, guiding you while never breaking his rhythm. Your hips moved of their own accord, chasing his mouth, grinding down harder as you whimpered and gasped. Every sound — every moan, every shudder — seemed to feed him, and he murmured praise between flicks of his tongue and teeth grazing sensitive skin, drawing shivers and whines from you.

The haze of pleasure, the softness of his touch, the warmth of him — it all wrapped you so completely that you couldn’t think straight.

“Mmm… Sylus, please—”

The name slipped out before you could stop it, a soft, breathless moan.

Xavier froze.

Every muscle in his body stiffened, and for a moment the room felt impossibly quiet. Then he was looming above you, eyes storm-dark, lips pressed into a hard line.

“Are you trying to make me angry?” he asked, low and dangerous, the calm worship gone.

“N-no—it was an accident, I don’t know why I—”

“An accident?” He cut you off sharply, the words like steel. His hand caught your wrist, yanking you upright. “Get up.”

You hesitated, confusion and nerves tangling in your chest, but he didn’t give you time to think. He pulled you off the bed, manhandling you across the room to the floor-to-ceiling window. The cold glass pressed against your bare skin as he pressed behind you, chest hot against your back, hands gripping your waist like iron.

“Fantasizing about a criminal, while I’m right in front of you,” he whispered, breath hot in your ear. “You want him to fuck you like I do?”

“No—I don’t—”

“Are you sure? You were thinking about him, while grinding on my tongue.” His voice was a low growl, dark and possessive, every word sinking into your skin like a brand. The heat of his body pinned you in place, his length pressing insistently against the small of your back until it felt as though he’d burn straight through you.

He wrapped a firm hand around himself, dragging his tip through your slick folds — slow, maddening, never giving you the friction you so desperately ached for. Each time you tried to push back, hoping to feel the delicious stretch of him, he stopped you with an unyielding grip, forcing you to tremble under his control.

“Fuck—Xavi, please—”

He seized your jaw, tilting your head until his mouth crashed against yours in a bruising kiss. There was nothing gentle in the way he devoured you — his tongue was rough, tasting of fury and hunger, his teeth catching your lower lip before sucking it deep into his mouth. The sting only made your cries sharper, your desperation more obvious, every needy sound swallowed down between his lips.

“He watches you, doesn’t he?”

The words struck like lightning, slicing through the haze for one breathless moment of clarity. You understood, then �� what he was after. The thought that Mephisto — any one of his lackeys — might be out there, unseen but witnessing, watching as Xavier fucked you like this. The realization hit you low and hard, molten pleasure curling through your stomach, pooling in a place you couldn’t ignore.

“S-sometimes…” you admitted, your voice breaking.

“Then let’s show him, star. Show him how good I make you feel.”

He released your jaw, guiding your face back to the cool glass. His hands drifted down the length of your spine in a languid path, urging you forward, arching you open for him — baring every trembling inch to his control.

He thrust into you from behind, hard and unrelenting, every motion calculated to overwhelm. Your nails scraped against the glass, leaving shallow scratches as his pace smashed into you. His free hand trailed up, cupping your breast, thumb brushing over your sensitive peak, pinching lightly with each thrust. His lips pressed to your shoulder, biting and sucking, leaving a trail of heat and bruises in his wake.

“Ah! Xavier–” you cried, meeting his thrusts with your hips desperately, blindly grasping at his hair to pull him closer, tongue almost brushing his jaw as his cheek pressed into yours, claiming every inch.

His hand slid down between your legs, brushing over your clit in time with his strokes, rubbing and flicking, driving you further toward the edge. His movements were rough, relentless, each thrust calculated to elicit maximum sound, maximum surrender from you.

He leaned closer, resting his chin on your shoulder, whispering hotly into your ear, “That’s it, star… look at you, ruined for anyone else. You think he could—ngh—make you feel like this?”

You arched, whines and moans spilling from your lips as he drove into you harder, the glass cold beneath your palms, your knees trembling. Every muscle in your body clenched and released under the relentless rhythm, your breath ragged. Xavier’s mouth found the curve of your neck again, lips and tongue tracing down to your shoulder, teeth grazing, sucking more bruising marks into the soft flesh.

“Xavier! Please–” your voice broke, shivers racing down your spine as he thrusted with brutal precision, his hand still massaging your clit in perfect, maddening timing.

“You feel that, star? That’s all me,” he growled, hand coming up to press on your lower stomach, feeling himself deep inside. “Every moan, every cry, mine. Only mine. I’ll carve my shape into your body, no one else fits you like I do.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore — the added pressure had him grinding into the spot that made your toes curl — the combination of his hands, mouth, teeth, and relentless thrusting pushed you over the edge. Your legs shook, trembling as you cried out his name over and over, body shuddering violently around him. Xavier didn’t let up, driving you into the glass with a final, punishing series of thrusts that had you gasping and moaning, tears prickling your eyes.

He followed swiftly, growling your name as his climax ripped through him, chest pressing into your back as he shuddered, gripping your hips with bruising strength, riding out every pulse together.

Your body sagged against the glass, boneless and trembling, every nerve still humming from the brutal way he’d wrung you out. Xavier’s chest heaved against your back, hot breath washing over your ear as he growled your name again, slower this time, savoring the taste of it. For a moment you thought he might finally relent — but instead, he caught your jaw and forced your head to the side, claiming your mouth in a messy, consuming kiss.

“Don’t think it’s over,” he rasped against your swollen lips, tongue tracing them as though he hadn’t just destroyed you. His arms slipped under you, lifting you effortlessly as though you weighed nothing. You were carried across the room, still dizzy, until your back hit the bed. He laid you down only to crawl over you immediately, his mouth devouring the soft line of your throat, your collarbone, the salt of your skin.

“You think I’ll be satisfied with just this?” he murmured, teeth grazing at the marks he’d left earlier. His hand gripped your thigh possessively, dragging it up around his hip until he was pressed against you again. You could feel he was still impossibly hard, the evidence of his possessiveness digging into your twitching entrance.

“Every inch of you, star… I’m going to claim it again and again until you remember who you belong to.” He kissed down your sternum, slow and hungry, his words seared into your skin with every breath. “No one else touches you. No one else gets to hear those sounds. They’re mine.”

Even as your body quivered from overstimulation, his hands soothed down your sides, stroking over every tremble as though cataloguing your weakness. The jealousy in him hadn’t dimmed; if anything, it made his touch more fervent, more insistent — his lips never leaving your skin, as if to mark and remark you, until you were stained with nothing but him.

sylus. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ .

His hands had been all over you for what felt like hours — slow, savoring, deliberate. The kind of touch that made your body ache with sweetness, that left your chest tight and your lips trembling with every shuddering breath. Sylus had you pinned beneath him, his mouth tracing reverent paths along your throat, pausing at your pulse as though worshiping the steady beat beneath his tongue.

“Mm… kitten,” he murmured against your skin, voice rough velvet. “Let me hear that pretty voice of yours. You don’t know what you do to me.”

Your hips arched, helpless, pressing into the steady grind of his. He chuckled low, fingers sliding down your stomach, brushing just above the place you wanted him most. He always teased you like this in the beginning, lingering touches meant to remind you he wasn’t in any rush.

“Patience,” he coaxed, lips dragging across your jaw, catching your mouth in a kiss that made your toes curl. “I could worship you forever. You’d let me, wouldn’t you? Let me take my time…”

He dragged the head of his cock slowly through your folds first, savoring the way you shuddered at the friction, deliberately avoiding giving you what you needed. His mouth brushed yours, hot and unrelenting, while his hips rolled just enough to make you whine.

“Do you want it, kitten?” he murmured against your lips, voice low and sweet. “Want me to fill you up?”

All you could manage was a desperate whine and nod. Sylus smiled against your lips, rubbing teasing circles over your clit with his swollen tip. He relished the way your breath hitched, drinking in every little sound that escaped your throat.

Only when your nails dug crescents into his shoulders, your body arching to chase him, did he finally ease into you — inch by inch, agonizingly slow — until you were gasping, clawing, breaking apart under the deliberate torment. He swallowed every ragged moan, each sound fed into his kiss as though it were a vow.

“That’s it, sweetie. Feels good, doesn’t it? …God, you’re perfect.”

You clung to him, shuddering at the fullness, the way he seemed to touch every aching place inside you. His pace was steady at first, rolling, coaxing — each thrust perfectly timed to make you writhe. Your head tipped back, words spilling without thought, a desperate cry —

“Xavier—!”

The name slipped raw from your lips before you even realized, caught between a sob and a moan.

Sylus stilled. Completely.

For a heartbeat, dread carved down your spine — you thought you’d ruined everything. That he’d pull away, go cold in your arms. But when his head lifted, when his gaze locked on yours, there was no anger. No rejection.

There was something far more dangerous.

Amusement.

A low laugh spilled from his chest, curling around you like smoke, like the first lick of flame on tinder. He drew back just enough to savor the panic written across your face, smirk cutting cruel and sharp.

“That’s not my name, kitten.” His voice was velvet over steel, a mocking purr. “Try again.”

Before you could stammer out an apology, his hips snapped forward with brutal force, knocking the breath from your lungs. A strangled cry tore free as your nails raked down the ridges of his back. He did it again — harder, deeper, devastating — and any words you’d meant to form dissolved into desperate, broken sound.

“Mm?” He tilted his head, red eyes gleaming with a predator’s delight. “Can’t manage it?” His next thrust punched through your gasp. “I’ll help jog your memory.”

The reverent teasing of moments before was gone. What replaced it was ruthless, merciless, a rhythm designed to tear you apart piece by trembling piece.

“Must not be doing a good enough job,” he drawled between thrusts, voice roughened by his own restraint. His hand slid up to grip your jaw, forcing your gaze to lock with his. “If you’re thinking about some nobody while I’m inside you.”

The next drive of his hips struck that perfect spot so hard your back arched off the bed, a strangled scream breaking out of you. He chuckled darkly, savoring it, his mouth grazing your ear.

“If you wanted me to be rougher, kitten,” he whispered, low and taunting, “all you had to do was ask.”

The next slam of his hips made your cry break like glass, your body burning, unraveling under the punishing pace. His laugh rumbled against your throat as he kissed the delicate skin there, dark and triumphant.

He gave it to you without restraint — each thrust deep, deliberate, shaking the frame with the force of his need. Your cries tangled with his name, spilling helplessly as he pushed you closer to unraveling.

Then his pace shifted, slowing into a devastating grind, hips rolling with precision that had you gasping as he struck the places that made you lose yourself. His hands slid down to anchor your hips, tilting you just right so he could sink even deeper. Every thrust dragged his length against the sweetest spot, his pelvis pressing firmly against your clit, grinding again and again until your body trembled helplessly in his hold.

“Could he ever make you feel like this?” His teeth grazed your throat, his voice a growl as he pounded deeper, harder. “No? Didn’t think so.”

Your body trembled violently, pleasure coiling tight, unbearable. Every drag of him against your walls pulled you closer, until you were whimpering, begging without words, everything dissolving into raw desperation.

“Tell me,” he demanded, unrelenting. “Who’s the one you beg for, kitten?”

His mouth worshipped the curve of your neck, branding you with searing kisses. His tongue teased the swell of your breast, lips closing around a hardened peak. He alternated slow swirls and soft sucks before grazing you with a sharp nip — the sting sent a shiver racing up your spine, dragging you out of the haze he’d drowned you in.

“You—” the word tore from your throat, half sob, half prayer. “Sylus—please—”

“That’s better.” His grin was all teeth, wicked and triumphant, his hips slamming one final time, forcing you over the edge.

Your climax hit like fire, scorching through every nerve, white-hot and merciless. You screamed his name until it was the only sound in the room, until your body shook with aftershocks and your nails carved crescents into his skin.

Sylus held you there, ruined and trembling beneath him, his gaze devouring every broken, breathless sound that fell from your lips — utterly satisfied that the only name left in your mouth was his.

Sylus slowed only when you were boneless, collapsing underneath him with tears pricking your lashes. He kissed you then — slow, sweet, his tongue brushing tenderly against yours as though the last few minutes had never happened. His hand stroked your cheek, smoothing away the damp strands of hair stuck there.

“Mm,” he murmured, still smug but softer now. “That’s what I thought. Always me, sweetie. I won’t let you forget again.”

Your body was still trembling, muscles slack as Sylus stayed pressed against you, chest rising and falling with deep, measured breaths, but you could feel the tension still running through him — different than his usual languid satisfaction. His lips brushed your temple, deceptively soft, but when he spoke his voice was lower, edged like a blade hidden under velvet.

“If someone else is more important than me…” His hand slid possessively down your side, fingertips sinking into your skin as though to brand you. “Then I’ll just replace them.”

Your head lifted slightly, dazed, uncertain, but his hand caught the back of your neck and gently — firmly — settled you back against the pillow.

“You’re mine, kitten,” he murmured, each word pressed into your ear like a vow, like a chain. “Everything that is mine will always be mine. I won’t tolerate losing anything.”

He kissed you again, slow, consuming, his thumb stroking lazily at your pulse like he could measure your devotion with every beat. When he pulled back, there was a faint smile tugging at his lips, but his eyes burned with something darker, deeper.

“So tell me,” he whispered, brushing your hair from your face as though he hadn’t just shattered you. “Do you need me to remind you again who you belong to?”

caleb. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ .

Your body arched beneath him, his weight pressing you into the mattress. Caleb had been taking his time tonight, his rhythm deliberate, steady, each thrust measured to pull broken sounds from your throat. His lips dragged across your collarbone, teeth scraping, tongue soothing after — worship and claim in one.

“Look at you,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low and unhurried. His hand smoothed down the length of your thigh, thumb rubbing into the tender crease where it wrapped around his waist. “So good for me… letting me have you like this.”

You moaned softly, nails catching on the slope of his shoulders. He groaned at the sting, hips angling deeper until you gasped and clung tighter. Caleb’s breath shuddered against your neck, the sound like gravel and velvet all at once.

“You feel that, baby?” His lips brushed your ear as his pace built, slow and filling, every stroke pushing him deeper. “How I stretch you out?”

Your body shook, a delicious tension building in every trembling muscle, throat catching on broken moans as your hips bucked involuntarily, grinding your clit into the coarse hair that traveled up his pelvis. Caleb’s tongue flicked over the hollow of your collarbone, dragging down to the curve of your breast before returning to nip at the tender skin of your neck, eliciting soft whines that only fueled his rhythm.

“You like that, don’t you, baby?” he whispered, voice rough, dark, teasing. “You like how I make you feel, so full, so desperate… all mine?”

The words tore another moan from you, and you barely realized what slipped past your lips, raw and breathless, carried on the edge of ecstasy.

“Yes— mm… Zayne–”

It was quiet, but in the silence between your bodies it was deafening.

Caleb’s entire body locked up. His hips stopped mid-thrust, buried deep inside you but utterly still. His breath hitched hard, like he’d been struck. For a heartbeat, the only sound was your own dazed panting and the faint, irregular thump of his pulse against your wrist where he held you down.

Slowly, his head lifted from the hollow of your throat. His violet eyes, wide at first, fixed on you like you were a stranger. A muscle jumped in his jaw. The hand on your thigh tightened, the drag of his thumb replaced by a grip that dug bruises into your skin.

“…What did you just say?” His voice came cracked, hollow — disbelief layered with hurt. His lips parted once, like he meant to ask again, but then he swallowed hard, nostrils flaring. “…Zayne?” The name sounded bitter, torn from his chest like poison.

You blinked up at him, stunned, words catching uselessly in your throat. His face — the hurt carved into it — broke something in your chest. But before you could stammer a protest, the expression twisted. The soft devastation shuttered out of his gaze, replaced by something sharper, darker.

“No.” His tone dropped, rough, shaking with restraint that barely held. “No, you don’t get to call for him while I’m inside you.”

His hips snapped forward suddenly, the force ripping a gasp from your throat. His eyes darkened, watching the way your back arched, the way you clenched around him. He seized your wrists, slamming them above your head into the mattress, pinning you so tight you could feel the tremor in his grip.

“You’ll say my name.” Another brutal thrust. “You’ll say it until it’s the only thing in your mouth.”

You cried out, the sound tangled between pleasure and shock. His pace turned merciless, the steady worship gone — replaced with desperation edged in fury. He drove into you harder, faster, each thrust meant to brand you from the inside out.

“Who’s fucking you right now?” His voice rasped against your lips, his breath hot, uneven. His teeth caught your lower lip in a bruising bite, forcing a whimper from you. “Say it. Say my name.”

“C–Caleb—” you gasped, the syllables breaking against the sharp drag of his thrust.

His head dropped, forehead pressed to yours, sweat dampening his dark hair where it clung to his temple. His violet eyes bore into you, dark, haunted.

“Again.” His mouth crashed onto yours, swallowing the sound of your moan as he ground deep inside you. His voice broke against your lips, more desperate now. “Louder.”

“Caleb—!”

“That’s it,” he groaned, hips slamming forward with every syllable, like he could bury himself so deep the other name would never resurface. “Nobody else can fuck you like this. Nobody.” His hands squeezed your wrists, not just to hold you — to hold himself together. “Say it again. Until you can’t think of anyone else.”

You sobbed his name through the kisses, through the thrusts that left you trembling, and with each repetition the tension in his chest eased only slightly, replaced with something raw and vicious. His lips dragged across your jaw, your throat, biting, marking.

“You’re mine,” he whispered raggedly, words trembling against your skin. “Only mine. Don’t you dare—” His voice cracked, and he cut himself off, groaning into your neck as he drove harder, chasing his breaking point. “—don’t you dare make me doubt you like that again.”

Caleb’s hands moved with ruthless precision, one pressing firmly over your clit, the other gripping your hips, anchoring you to him as he drove into your slick, tight walls. Every movement pulled raw, breathless moans from your throat, each tremor of your body sending shivers up his spine.

Your cries filled the room, raw and ragged, and he pressed you closer, hands gripping your hips so tightly you could feel the bruising pressure as he fucked you through your release. Your body convulsed beneath him, clenching, shivering, and Caleb followed soon after, hips stuttering, pulse racing, letting go with a guttural moan as he spilled deep inside you. Your nails raked down his back, tugging, gripping, trying to hold onto him as he snapped his hips, hips jerking to bury himself as deep as he could.

“Fuck… that’s it, baby, take it,” he panted, voice breaking, wet and desperate. “Don’t waste a fucking drop–”

He collapsed against you, chest heaving, foreheads pressed together, hands finally loosening their iron grip on your hips. Your bodies were slick with sweat, trembling, hearts racing in tandem, and he nuzzled into your neck, voice softening but still possessive. His breaths came rough, uneven, and beneath the raw edge of his jealousy you could hear the wound it left behind. His lips brushed yours once, trembling, before he whispered softer — a plea broken in half:

“…Don’t make me feel like I’m not enough for you.”

Then he kissed you hard, swallowing it down, needing you too much to let the ache breathe longer than a second.

The silence was heavy. He didn’t move to pull out, didn’t move at all beyond the rough drag of his breath against your skin.

For a moment you thought he was just catching himself, but then you felt it — the faint tremor in his body. Not from exhaustion. From restraint. From fear.

His hand slid back to your wrist, but instead of pinning them, his fingers laced with yours, clinging like a lifeline. He squeezed once, hard, almost desperate.

“…I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice raw, still trembling at the edges. He turned his head enough that his nose brushed your cheek, his lips hovering at your jaw. “I shouldn’t have— I just—” His breath caught, the words failing him.

You shifted to look at him, but he kept his face half-hidden against you, like he couldn’t bear to let you see what was written there.

“I can’t stand the thought of you wanting him.” The admission was ragged, torn from his chest. His hand pressed to your side, pulling you closer, as though the idea alone might take you away. “I can’t… I can’t lose you to him.”

You felt the stutter of his heartbeat against your ribs where his chest pressed to yours. The possessiveness was still there, but stripped bare of anger, it was nothing but ache.

When he finally lifted his gaze, violet eyes glimmering faintly in the dim light, the intensity had shifted — no longer fury, but something far more fragile. His thumb brushed along your jawline, tentative now, almost reverent.

“Tell me I’m enough for you,” he murmured. Not a demand this time. A plea.

“You’re enough, Caleb. Promise,”

You threaded your fingers into his hair, guiding him closer until his lips met yours again. The kiss wasn’t frantic now, but slow, aching, like he needed to believe it in every press of your mouth against his.

When he pulled back, he tucked his face into your neck, arms winding tightly around you, keeping you caged in his warmth. He didn’t care that you were both sticky and sweat-slick, tangled in sheets that needed washing. He just held you, every muscle taut like if he loosened even slightly, you might slip away.

“You don’t get it,” he whispered against your skin, his voice breaking. “You’re all I’ve got. I don’t care if the whole damn world thinks I’ve lost it — I won’t let you go. Ever.”

His lips pressed into the hollow of your throat, not bruising now, just lingering. The ache in his chest still hadn’t eased, but the way he clung to you, slow and desperate, was enough to remind you that beneath the jealousy and fury, Caleb’s devotion was absolute.

rafayel. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ .

Rafayel had you spread beneath him like a canvas he was determined to leave marked, every curve, every shiver, every inch of skin his to study, to claim. His lips dragged lazily down your neck, teeth grazing just enough to sting before his tongue followed, soothing the fiery bite with deliberate, languid flicks. Each brush of his lips and teeth left a trail of wet heat, and you could feel yourself trembling under him, breath catching with every whisper of contact.

Every thrust of his hips was slow, deep, maddening — as if he wanted to savor the way your walls squeezed him, to watch you unravel piece by piece. He pressed you to the bed with the weight of his chest, shoulders and arms anchoring you just enough so you couldn’t pull away, hips snapping in perfect rhythm to make you gasp and tremble.

“You’re so sensitive tonight, cutie,” he murmured, voice dripping with amusement, eyes glinting that impossible pink-blue under the dim light. His hand slid lower, thumb brushing over your clit in lazy, torturing circles that had you arching, whimpering, fingers clawing into his shoulders. “Can’t even keep still for me, hm? So needy… and all for me.”

Your back arched, body trembling uncontrollably as he pressed deeper, hips angling just enough to hit that maddening spot that made you shiver and cry out without control. Each motion was measured — teasing, claiming, watching your reactions like a predator enthralled by the flinch of his prey.

You moaned, clutching at his shoulders, and the words tumbled out without thought — ragged, high-pitched, not his name.

“Feels so good— Zayne–”

The moment fractured.

Rafayel went still, utterly still, his cock buried deep inside you but unmoving. His smirk vanished. For a heartbeat, he simply stared at you — and then his eyes changed. That impossible, searing oceanic blue swallowed the softer hues, glowing like the abyss itself was staring back. The air in the room shifted, heavy, electric, like the tide had risen around you without warning.

When he finally spoke, his voice was lower, velvet stretched over steel.

“…What did you just call me?”

You tried to breathe, tried to stammer, but his expression darkened further, jaw tightening, his gaze a furious light. His hand shot down, seizing your wrist and pinning it flat against his chest, right over the searing heat of his bond mark. The pulse beneath it throbbed against your palm, wild, undeniable.

“You chose me,” Rafayel whispered, but there was no softness in it — only something ancient, dangerous, inescapable. His hips pulled back and slammed forward in a brutal thrust that made you cry out. “You can’t take it back, cutie. Not now. Not ever.”

The mark beneath your palm flared hotter, almost burning. You writhed, trying to pull your hand away, but he forced it harder against him, his other hand gripping your hip tight enough to bruise as he pounded into you.

“This covenant between us…” His lips pressed harshly against yours, his kiss rough, consuming, biting. When he pulled back, his breath was ragged, eyes burning into you. “…Nobody will break it. Not even you.”

Another sharp thrust made your body jolt, the sound of your moans mingling with his groan. His glowing gaze never wavered, pinning you down as surely as his body did.

“Zayne’s name doesn’t belong in your mouth,” he hissed, kissing you again, deeper, tongue forcing its way past your lips. His hips ground mercilessly against yours, targeting your sweet spot with relentless precision. “Say mine instead. Say it until you forget his face.”

“Rafayel—” you gasped, clinging to him, the bond mark searing against your palm.

“That’s it.” His grin returned, but it was sharp, unsettling, his teeth flashing as his pace grew harsher, each thrust designed to obliterate. “More. Louder. Let him drown in the sound of it.”

You cried his name again and again, each repetition breaking on a sob, until the walls around you felt like they were vibrating with it. Rafayel groaned your name in return, the sound low and guttural, like it was pulled from the marrow of his bones.

His lips brushed your ear, whisper soft but chilling:

“I’ll make you forget everyone if I have to, cutie. Every memory, every name. Until it’s just me. I’ll be everything you need.”

His pace broke then, erratic, desperate, as though he were chasing the moment you’d finally belong to him without question. Each thrust hit deeper, harder, and you felt your walls clench around him, slick and trembling, every inch of him claiming you. His thumb pressed over your clit again in wild, teasing circles, coaxing helpless moans and whimpers from your lips as he groaned low in his throat.

“You’re close,” he murmured, breath hot against your cheek, glowing eyes locking with yours. “Give yourself to me, cutie. Let go for me.”

Your body shuddered, quivering, as your climax tore through you — loud, ragged, and overwhelming. At the same moment, Rafayel groaned, teeth nipping your shoulder, hand tightening around your wrist, his own release spilling deep inside you. Your foreheads pressed together, hearts hammering, eyes locked, and the glowing blue of his gaze burned with ownership and reverence as you came together, trembling in perfect sync.

He held you through it, hips stuttering as he rode out both of your highs, lips brushing against yours, teeth grazing lightly, murmuring your name over and over while you clung to him, sweat-slick and breathless. Every pulse, every tremor of your body pulled a raw, ragged sound from him, and the connection felt all-consuming, a simultaneous surrender that left you both trembling, utterly undone.

The moment you thought the intensity had passed, Rafayel’s grip on your wrist reminded you otherwise. He didn’t collapse or soften like most would — instead, he held your hand pinned against his chest, eyes still glowing faintly, a storm barely contained behind them. His jaw was tight, knuckles white where he clutched your hand over the bond mark, fingers pressing so that you could feel the pulse beneath your palm.

“You fantasized about him,” he whispered, voice low, dangerous, every syllable rolling like thunder. “…Zayne. Even in thought, you dared to call his name while I was inside you.”

You whimpered, trembling beneath him, trying to explain, but he silenced you with the brush of his lips against your temple, a soft touch that was anything but gentle.

“You’re mine,” he growled, tone sharp, unwavering. “Even if you don’t remember, even if your thoughts wander, it doesn’t matter. You devoted yourself to me. To me.”

He pressed his forehead to yours again, still holding your hand over the bond mark as if anchoring both of you to the truth of it. The pulse beneath your fingers throbbed in sync with the beat of your own heart, a physical reminder of the covenant he’d claimed.

“I won’t let you forget,” he murmured, eyes flashing that impossible blue. “You will worship me in time. Every touch, every moan, every thought — mine. You belong to me, cutie. And I’ll make sure you never forget again.”

His other hand traced down your spine, pressing you closer, rough in the way that made it impossible to pull away. The anger in him hadn’t faded; it lingered, palpable, a heat that pressed against your skin, warning you of the dark devotion underneath. And yet, despite the fury, there was that almost imperceptible tremor in his shoulders, the whisper of fear that if he didn’t claim you, someone — or something in your mind — might steal you from him.

“You can try to think of anyone else,” he said, his voice low, velvet-dark, eyes never leaving yours. “But it won’t last. Not against me. Not against what we share.”

He leaned down, lips brushing the top of your head, a possessive press rather than a kiss. “I’m everything you need, cutie. I’ll make sure of it. Every time you close your eyes, every breath you take—it’ll be me.”

a/n: i put my pussy on the keyboard to write xavier's part i was actually sweating when i went back to proofread that. writing smut is lowkey hard i feel like i need to practice more, but i hope you all enjoy while i try to perfect the craft LMAO. i loved this ask if anyone has anymore messy mc ideas please hit me up, im gnawing at the bars of my enclosure to write them

2K notes · View notes

cheolinn · 4 days ago

Text

caleb recording you

the flash on the camera blinked, catching everything—the way your legs were folded back, knees pressed against your chest, toes curling, your sopping pussy stretched raw around caleb's cock.

“fuuuck—look at that,” he groaned, voice low, angling the camera down so every twitch of your pussy around his girth was recorded. his abs flexed as he drove into you, hips slapping against yours in wet, obscene smacks. “baby, you’re creamin’ all over me. you hear that? fuck—that’s your slutty little pussy loving my cock.”

“ahhhh—c-caleb! caleb, it’s so—ahhhh—it’s too much—” your voice cracked into a whimper, eyes rolling, lips parted as drool clung to your chin.

“yeah? too much? but you take it so well for me, pretty.” he leaned down, kissing you messy, tongue fucking into your mouth as the camera caught your muffled moans. “hold those legs up higher, pips. show ‘em how good you take me.”

your shaky hands grabbed behind your thighs, holding yourself open like a perfect little slut for the camera. your cunt gushed around him, juices dripping down his cock and staining the sheets.

“shiiit—yeah, that’s it,” caleb hissed, the vein in his neck popping as his thrusts grew brutal, pounding you into the mattress. “feels so good around me, baby. keep squeezing like that—”

“mmmgnhhh... aaahhhnnnn... so good, caleb...! oh fuuuck... you're fucking me so good!”

“fuuuckkk—” he growled, the sound ripped from his chest as he bottomed out, pressing deep until his fat tip bullied your cervix. the camera caught everything—your stomach bulging with his size, the creamy ring around his base, the way you sobbed beneath him, clinging like a cockdrunk doll.

“goddamn, baby… you’re a fucking mess,” he panted, hips slamming into yours as the lewd slap echoed. “look at this, look at the fuckin’ camera when i cum in this pretty pussy.”

“aahhh—p-please—cum in me, caleb—fuck, i need it, give it to me—!” that was it. with a guttural moan, caleb slammed in to the hilt, balls tight against your ass as his cock throbbed inside you. his cum shot deep, flooding you in hot, messy spurts. you whined, body twitching as you felt it pool and leak around his cock.

“h-haaah—fuck yeah, cream on it, take it all,” he rasped, pushing his length deeper, grinding into you so every drop stayed inside. the camera zoomed in on to your well-fucked hole, white spilling out only to be shoved back in with his thick cock. he angled the camera to your blissed-out face, his voice raspy and breathless. “dont waste it. keep it all in, yeah? say ‘thank you,’ pips.” through broken sobs and whimpers, you gasped, “t-thank you, caleb—thank you for cumming in me..”

“good girl. now turn around for me, baby. we're not done yet.” and this time, he placed the camera on the nightstand, catching everything as he fucks you again and again.

3K notes · View notes

cheolinn · 7 days ago

Text

꧁⎝Symbiosis (Geto.S)⎠꧂

Summary: There's something wrong with your reoccurring customer -- one moment he's awkward, the next he's breeding you under the parasite's control.

Substance: venom!Geto Suguru, f!reader, monsterfucker, alien symbiote, size kink, possessive behavior, oral (f receiving), mating press, missionary, eatin that pùssy like crazy, FERAL Geto, bréeding kink, sloppy kissing, creämpie, rough sêx, reader rides him, geto cries during sex, symbiote jealousy, hair pulling, praise “mine” kink, clït play, soft aftercare, jealous symbiote, what is bro packing?!?!, dom & soft geto (venom is def a sadist) symbiote tentacles (light), porn w/ a plot, overstimulation, marking, biting, voice kink, grumpy x sunshine, happy ending.

W/C: 16k

Masterlist

At 1:47 AM, the silence in the convenience store made you acutely aware of your own breathing. There was no hum of conversation, no music over the speakers, just the constant low thrum of the soda refrigerators against the back wall and the occasional soft click of the security camera shifting its angle.

Outside, the rain from earlier in the night had left the streets slick and black, each puddle catching the neon glow from the sign above the door. The parking lot was empty except for a beat-up sedan that had been idling for nearly twenty minutes with no one inside, and you were bored enough to consider going out there just to find out why.

Instead, you were leaning against the counter with your chin in your palm, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. Your shift wasn’t over for another four hours, and every minute between now and then stretched in front of you like a slow, mocking crawl.

You’d been fighting to keep your eyes open when the bell over the door gave a halfhearted jingle. It wasn’t loud, but in the silence, it might as well have been a gunshot.

You looked up, expecting the usual – a drunk kid with a bag of chips, a half-asleep trucker grabbing coffee – and instead saw him.

Suguru Geto.

The sight of him was almost cinematic in its predictability. Same leather jacket, worn soft at the elbows. He always knotted one drawstring and left the other hanging, so the drawstrings on the same black hoodie underneath were uneven.

Dark jeans with frayed hems were tucked into scuffed boots, leaving you wondering if he walked everywhere or just didn't care. His hair was pulled back in a low tie, loose strands falling against his jaw in a way that looked intentional, even though you knew him well enough by now to suspect it wasn’t.

He ducked under the frame of the door with that loose, long-limbed gait of someone who’d been up for hours already. His eyes flicked to you briefly – a quick acknowledgement, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was half a second from a grin – before drifting toward the back of the store. He didn’t bother asking where anything was. He never did.

“Evening,” he said, his voice low, carrying that dry humor that made it sound like he was in on a joke you hadn’t been told yet.

“Evening,” you echoed, though your tone was more guarded. You’d learned not to give him too much encouragement right away.

He disappeared down the aisle with the instant ramen and canned soup, the faint creak of the floor under his boots marking his path. You could picture him in your head without looking: crouching halfway to scan the lower shelves, tilting his head just enough for his hair to slip loose over his shoulder.

You’d only known him a few months, but “known” might have been generous. He was more of a recurring presence than a friend, more of a habit than a stranger. He showed up often enough that you could clock the pattern – mostly at night, always alone, usually buying the same handful of things.

A bottle of iced coffee. Instant noodles. Gum. If he remembered, he would occasionally grab a chocolate bar. And always with a comment or two that stuck in your head long after he’d left, popping back up at random moments like a song you hadn’t realized you’d memorized.

When he reappeared, it was with a plastic bottle of coffee dangling from his fingers and a cup of ramen balanced in his palm, steam-less and innocent for now but destined for your sad little microwave in the corner. The kind of meal that indicated he was either too busy to cook, too broke to order takeout, or too stubborn to admit he couldn't care less.

“That’s dinner?” you asked, arching a brow as he set them on the counter.

“That’s dinner,” he confirmed without missing a beat, his voice steady but warm. “Unless you’re offering to cook for me.”

You gave him a flat look. "Yeah, because my gourmet skill set goes far beyond microwaved noodles."

“I’m sure you could surprise me.” His words carried the faintest teasing lilt, but there was something heavier in his gaze – an unblinking stillness, like he was cataloging your expression.

It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly, but it made the air between you feel charged.

You broke eye contact first, scanning the coffee, then the ramen, then the pack of gum he’d dropped onto the pile like it had been there all along. “Big spender tonight.”

“What can I say? Payday.” He leaned forward slightly, resting one forearm on the counter.

His jacket creaked with the movement, the smell of rain and faint cigarette smoke clinging to the leather. “How’s the graveyard shift treating you?”

You shrugged, sliding his things into a bag. “Quiet. Which is code for boring as hell.”

“I can see that.” His eyes flicked to your phone for a moment – you caught the way his gaze lingered on the faint glow of the screen – before returning to your face. “Guess I’ll have to come by more often to keep you awake.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't stop the slight curl in your lips. “Sure. And what’s your hourly rate for that kind of service?”

“For you?” He tilted his head, pretending to think. “I’ll work for free.”

There it was – that half-smile, sharp and easy, the one that made you suspect he was used to getting away with more than he should. When you held out the bag, he didn't take it, instead letting it rest between you on the counter. The pause stretched.

Outside, the door chimed as a drunk couple stumbled past the window, their laughter muffled by the glass. Suguru didn’t turn his head and didn’t seem interested in the distraction. His focus stayed on you, steady in a way that made it feel like the store had shrunk down to just this counter, just the two of you.

“You’re not in a hurry,” you said finally, filling the space with something.

“Should I be?” His voice was soft now, almost lazy, but his eyes had that same watchfulness you’d seen before – the kind that made you wonder if he was picking apart every word you said, looking for an opening.

You shook your head, leaning back against the counter. “Guess not.”

He took that as an invitation to stay. Not moving closer, but also not leaving. Just there, anchored in your peripheral as you turned your attention back to the register. When you glanced up again, he was still watching you, that faint smirk threatening to deepen into something else entirely.

“You always work nights?” Suguru finally asked, his tone conversational, but his gaze was steady enough to make the question feel heavier.

You gave a small shrug, leaning one elbow on the counter. “Mostly. Pays the same, but no customers breathing down my neck every five seconds.”

“Just me.” His mouth quirked.

“Just you,” you echoed dryly. “And the drunk crowd after midnight.”

Suguru let out a low chuckle – deep, quiet, like it came from somewhere in his chest rather than his throat. He liked the way your voice softened when you weren’t talking to customers, the way it lost that fake chipper tone he’d heard you use with strangers.

You were different when it was just the two of you in here, when the aisles were empty and the only light came from the buzzing fluorescents above and the refrigerators at the back.

His eyes drifted over you while you looked away, pretending to straighten the gum display. The dark blue apron hung loosely over your hoodie, tied just tight enough at the waist to reveal your shape underneath.

Your hair was slightly messy from the hours of wear, the kind of lived-in look that made you seem more real, more touchable. The tired set of your eyes didn’t dull them – if anything, the faint shadows underneath made them look softer, like you’d let him in on some private part of your day.

Pretty, he thought. Pretty in that unpolished, end-of-shift way that made him want to keep standing here just to see what other small details he could catch before someone else walked in and broke the moment.

“You’re staring,” you said without looking at him, still rearranging gum packs.

“Am I?” His tone was smooth and teasing, but the corner of his mouth curved like he’d been caught red-handed. “Sorry. I was just wondering how many hours you’ve been here tonight.”

You shot him a look over your shoulder. “Too many.”

“Guess that explains why you’re stuck in here at two in the morning instead of sleeping.” He drummed his fingers lightly against the counter. “What about after? You go home, crash, and wake up at noon?”

“Something like that,” you said, returning to your spot behind the register. “I’m boring.”

“I don’t believe that.” His voice was almost lazy, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in it.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. He let the silence stretch, the kind of quiet where he could hear the faint tap of your nails against the plastic counter and the muted hum of a refrigeration unit kicking on. He didn’t feel rushed to fill it.

Suguru picked up the small plastic display of lighters sitting by the register and turned it idly in his hand. “Still no one else here.”

“Were you hoping for company?” You inquired, tilting your head.

“Got it,” he said simply, glancing at you.

The words were thrown out casually, but in his mind, he was already turning over the fact that he meant them. He hadn’t planned to stay this long – hell, he hadn’t planned much of anything tonight except maybe grabbing something cheap and heading home.

But you’d been here, half-slouched over the counter in that tired-but-not-unfriendly way, and the idea of walking back out into the empty street suddenly seemed like a worse option.

You tapped the register screen with one finger, glancing past him toward the door. “You know, if you’re just going to loiter, you could at least make yourself useful.”

“What, stock shelves? Sweep the floor?”

“I was thinking more like you entertaining me so I don’t fall asleep standing up.”

His grin widened. “That, I can do.”

And he did – not in any grand way, just in the steady rhythm of back-and-forth conversation that didn’t feel forced. He asked about the weirdest thing you’d ever seen on this shift (“a guy who tried to buy milk with foreign coins,” you said), told you about a delivery driver who yelled at him over nothing, and made an offhand comment about the playlist you kept quietly running on your phone behind the counter.

Somewhere in the middle of it, he reached over to grab a chocolate bar from the rack, tossing it onto his pile of purchases without breaking the flow of conversation. You rang it up, sliding it into the bag with the rest of his things.

“Do you eat like this all the time?” you asked, giving him a pointed look at the mix of caffeine, instant noodles, gum, and sugar.

“Don’t judge me,” he said, smirking. “Some of us thrive on the finer things in life.”

You snorted. “Right. The finer things. In a plastic wrapper.”

He leaned a little closer across the counter, lowering his voice as if he were letting you in on something confidential. “You’d be surprised how far you can get on gas station coffee and stubbornness.”

For a second, you thought he might actually be serious, but then his eyes crinkled at the edges, and you realized he was enjoying himself far too much to mean it entirely.

The last customer of the night – a man in a damp hoodie who bought nothing but a bottle of water and a scratch-off ticket – left just after 3:15, letting the door swing shut with a muted jingle. After that, the store settled into complete stillness.

Suguru glanced toward the parking lot through the rain-streaked glass. “Almost closing time?”

“Twenty minutes,” you said, flicking your eyes to the wall clock before scanning the countertop for anything left to tidy. “Then I get to go home and collapse face-first into my bed.”

“Sounds like a solid plan.” He drummed his fingers lightly on the counter, the sound barely audible over the refrigerator hum. “You walk home from here?”

You shook your head, crouching to grab a roll of receipt paper from under the counter. “Bus. But there’s only one this late, so if I miss it, I’m screwed.”

He nodded slowly, filing that away. Noted.

The minutes crawled by. He didn’t try to leave, and you didn’t ask him to. Instead, he watched you lock the till, turn off the neon “OPEN” sign in the window, and step into the back to grab your coat from a hook on the wall. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands in his jacket pockets, his mind running faster than his mouth.

He didn’t plan this – hadn’t rehearsed a single word – but when you came back out, sliding your arms into your coat, something in him pushed past the usual small talk.

“Hey,” he started, catching your attention before you could reach for your bag. His voice was quieter than it had been all night, almost testing the air. “You ever, uh… go out after your shift?”

You blinked at him, one brow arching. “Go out?”

“Yeah, like… grab a drink. Or food.” His gaze darted briefly to the floor, then back to you, the tiniest crease forming between his brows. “I’m asking because… I was thinking maybe we could. Sometime.”

It wasn’t smooth. His delivery wasn’t the polished, cocky charm you’d expect from someone in a leather jacket at 3 AM. It was hesitant in a way that made you pause, as if he wasn't used to presenting the idea without knowing the answer.

You tilted your head, looking him over as if you were unsure whether this was a joke or not. “You’re asking me out?”

“Yeah.” His lips tugged into a faint, nervous half-smile. “I mean, if you want to call it that.”

You let the silence hang just long enough to make him shift his stance, his shoulders straightening as though bracing himself for a no. Then you shrugged, slipping your bag over your shoulder. “Sure.”

His brows lifted slightly, the reaction almost imperceptible, but the relief in his posture was obvious. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, flicking off the last row of overhead lights and heading for the door. “But you’re buying.”

He followed you out into the damp night, the smell of rain still hanging heavy in the air. The parking lot was empty, save for the occasional ripple of water in the puddles from a distant car. As you locked the glass door behind you, he glanced down at you from under the shadow of his hood, a smirk curling at the edge of his mouth – softer than usual, warmer.

“Deal.”

And with that, you started down the sidewalk toward the bus stop; he fell into step beside you, hands shoved back into his pockets, looking for all the world like a man who’d just decided this was going to become a regular thing.

𓆩༺✧༻𓆪

It's been two weeks.

Two weeks since that awkward half-smile in the damp parking lot, when he asked you out with the hesitation that made it appear as if he had never asked anyone out before. You agreed two weeks ago, and now nothing. No elbows resting on the counter, no late-night aisle walks, and no cheap iced coffee bottles gliding across to the register with that effortless smile.

The first few nights you figured maybe he was busy. People got busy. Work schedules changed. Then a week passed, and you found yourself watching the door without meaning to, telling yourself you weren’t waiting for him when you obviously were.

By the second week, you’d decided he wasn’t coming back.

Now you’d downgraded to mumbling to yourself as you wiped down the counter, the rag dragging in lazy arcs over the laminate. “Guess I got ghosted by a guy who lives off gas station ramen. Great taste, me.”

The store was dead quiet except for the constant low hum of the coolers and the occasional click of the clock above the door. You were in the middle of restocking the gum display when the bell over the door gave a shrill jingle. You glanced up, halfway to your “welcome” voice, and froze.

But....Jesus Christ.

The man who stepped inside looked like someone had wrung him out and left him in the sun. His black T-shirt was stained dark down the side like he’d leaned against something greasy, the collar stretched and uneven.

Baggy cargo pants sagged low on his hips, pockets bulging, knees scuffed. His boots were unlaced. Sweat clung to his hairline, beading on the side of his throat, dampening the strands of hair that had escaped the messy half-up tie at the back of his head.

And his eyes–God, his eyes. Not the same warm brown you remembered. Tonight, they looked bruised at the edges, shot through with a faint, unnatural violet glint that caught the overhead lights when he moved.

He didn’t even acknowledge you at first. Just strode past with long, heavy steps like the store was the only thing between him and a cliff. You caught a flash of his expression as he passed–jaw clenched, lips moving, but not to you.

You straightened slowly behind the counter, your eyes narrowing. “...What the hell?”

He was talking. To himself. Low, under his breath, and constant, like he was in the middle of an argument no one else could hear.

“I told you, I’m going to get it–yes, all of it–no, she doesn’t know, will you shut up for two seconds–” He cut himself off with a sharp inhale, snatching a basket from the stack by the endcap and moving fast toward the snack aisle.

In your head, the thought came unfiltered: runaway from a mental hospital.

With the dexterity of a man on a mission, he began to gather items, throwing into the basket bags of chips, sleeves of cookies, and enough instant noodles to feed a small army.

You could see the flex of his jaw as he spoke again, still to himself. “I don’t care how much sugar you want; you’re not eating nothing but sugar–you’re gonna get us killed–”

Kill her.

The voice was sudden in his head, cutting, not yours, not his–not something human.

Suguru’s hand tightened around the handle of the basket, his knuckles pale. “We’re not killing anyone.”

She is tender. She would be exquisite. You are already thinking about it.

“I’m not,” he muttered harshly, shoving a handful of protein bars into the pile.

From where you stood behind the counter, you could hear every bit of it now, the tone of someone half-crazed from exhaustion. His shirt clung to his back where sweat had dampened it, the fabric darkened in uneven patches.

When he reached the refrigerated section, he threw the door open and started grabbing bottled drinks at random–three iced coffees, a chocolate milk, an energy drink, and two Gatorades, all dumped unceremoniously into the basket.

“–it’s fuel. That’s what it is. Fuel,” he said under his breath, his voice pitched low like he was trying to reason with the thing in his head.

You are slow when you are famished.

“Then you’ll have to wait,” he snapped quietly, closing the fridge door harder than necessary.

You didn’t even realize your arms were folded until you felt your nails pressing into your sleeves. He looked awful–sweaty, twitchy, the faintest sheen of something not quite right in his eyes–and yet there was something about him that still pulled your gaze along every step he took.

He was stupidly attractive even in this state, with his shirt soiled and dangling off one shoulder.

He reached the counter and set the basket down hard enough to make the gum rack rattle. His breathing was shallow, his hair sticking to his temple.

“You okay there, champ?” You asked, glancing at the heap of food.

His head snapped up. For a second, you weren’t sure if he’d even heard you; then that violet flick in his eyes softened, barely, as he said, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

Lie.

He winced, almost imperceptibly. He repeated, more slowly, "I'm fine," as if it might be true if he said it again.

You rang up the coffee first, your gaze flicking up to him. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Been busy,” he said, his voice a little rough, like he hadn’t had a glass of water in hours.

Tell her you missed her.

“I didn’t–” he started, then stopped, jaw locking again. “I’ve had… stuff.”

Your brows furrowed. “Stuff?”

“Personal stuff,” he muttered, pulling a crumpled bill from his pocket.

We should tell her. She looks edible. Maybe she could feed us.

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose like he was counting to ten. When they opened again, you caught the faintest smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s complicated.”

You slid the last item into a bag, trying to piece together the image of the man you’d talked to two weeks ago with the one standing here now–sweat-slick, restless, and carrying on an argument with himself. Or something.

“Well,” you said, pushing the bag toward him, “don’t forget to eat. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

We are starving.

“Yeah,” he said, taking the bag and glancing at the door as though he couldn’t get out fast enough. “I know.”

As he turned to leave, the bell above the door jingled again, the sound swallowed by the wet hiss of rain outside. You watched him go, still not entirely convinced you hadn’t just rung up a very attractive lunatic who’d escaped from somewhere with padded walls.

𓆩༺✧༻𓆪

The streets were empty enough to hear the occasional hum of a far-off traffic light and the slow drip of rainwater from a bent gutter. You’d just gotten off your shift, cutting through the back end of the neighborhood to shave ten minutes off your walk home.

It was the kind of late where everything felt sharper – the way the cold bit into your cheeks, the damp smell of asphalt, and the hollow echo of your boots when you passed under an overhang.

That was when you saw him.

At first, you thought it was just some random guy crouched low behind the old diner, half-hidden in the alley’s shadow. Then the figure shifted under the weak glow of a wall-mounted lamp, and your brain caught up to the shape of his shoulders, the tie of his hair, and the way he moved.

Suguru.

But not like you’d seen him before.

Tonight, instead of his typical leather jacket and tidy half-up, he wore a loose gray hoodie with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and a dark stain on the front pocket from repeatedly wiping his hands there. The hood was down, his hair barely tied at the back in something that could barely pass as a knot, several strands hanging loose to stick to the sweat along his jaw and neck.

His sweatpants – dark, old, the drawstring frayed – clung damp to his thighs and knees, and the sneakers on his feet looked like they’d been through hell.

And he was eating.

Not just eating – going in. Suguru was removing tater tots by the handful from a cardboard boat that was covered in grease and resting on top of the dumpster lid.

No fork, no hesitation. Just shoving them into his mouth as if someone would try to take them away. Salt dusted his fingers, oil slicked the pads of his thumbs, and every few bites he licked his hand clean in a way that was far too deliberate to be accidental.

In his head, the voice stirred.

You are slow when you are hungry.

“I’m fine,” he muttered under his breath, chewing fast. His voice was low and harsh, like the words were meant to stay inside but leaked out anyway.

You are sweating. You look pitiful.

“It’s still better than starving,” he shot back quietly, grabbing three more tots at once and tossing them into his mouth.

We could be eating something more delicious.

“You’re not getting raw meat out of me right now,” he growled, shaking his head.

Not raw meat. The voice slid slick and amused along the edges of his thoughts. Her.

Suguru’s jaw tightened. “Not happening.”

She watches you. She stared at your hands last time.

He almost dropped the food. “Shut up.”

She was wondering how they’d feel.

He was grinding his teeth, chewing slower now, but still reaching back for more. His hoodie clung to his back in patches, soaked through with sweat from whatever he’d been doing before this. A bead slid down from his hairline to the curve of his neck, catching in the hollow of his collarbone before disappearing under the cotton.

You think about her when you eat.

“I don’t,” he lied, swallowing hard. “Not like that.”

False.

You stood frozen at the mouth of the alley, every word carrying clearly in the still air. Your heart thudded once, hard, and then faster as you watched him keep eating – one hand braced on the dumpster edge, the other scooping up more food.

His fingers were shiny with oil, the tips stained orange from the seasoning, and when he ran his tongue over the heel of his palm to catch the salt, your stomach dropped for reasons you weren’t going to unpack right now.

He tossed the empty carton aside with a careless flick of his wrist, licking the last of the grease from his fingers before wiping them down the front of his hoodie. His breathing was heavier now, the sharp rise and fall visible even from where you stood.

Find her.

“Not tonight,” he muttered, straightening up.

You could.

“I said no.”

When his head turned toward the alley's mouth, you slid back against the brick wall, pressing yourself into the shadows as if you could merge with the damp mortar.

No way in hell you were letting him catch you out here – not when you’d just witnessed him wrist-deep in dumpster tater tots and holding an entire conversation with… whoever lived in his head now.

Your breath came in slow, controlled pulls as you listened to his sneakers scrape over the wet concrete. He walked out onto the street without looking back, hood half-slouched off one shoulder, hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.

You waited until the distance between you was safe before stepping out and following at a cautious pace, keeping far enough back that the occasional streetlamp didn’t give you away.

From this distance, you could still see the faint swing of his hair, the damp cling of sweat-darkened fabric to his back, and the way his shoulders hunched like the air was too heavy.

He moved with that loose, prowling gait that didn’t quite fit the man you’d known a few weeks ago – the one who’d leaned against your counter and made you smirk at stupid jokes. This Suguru was muttering under his breath again, voice low, words jagged at the edges like he was holding back something sharper.

Inside his head, Venom stretched.

She is nearby.

“Don’t start.” His voice was barely above a whisper, intended for no one but the thing that ran through his thoughts.

Her scent is savory tonight.

He scowled at the sidewalk. “It’s the city. You’re smelling fry oil and cheap perfume.”

No, the voice croaked, sliding slick over the inside of his skull, I smell her. You are already acquainted with the smell.

Suguru’s brow creased. “Not talking about this.”

Wet.

He stumbled for half a step, catching himself. “Jesus Christ, what–”

Warm and wet.

His jaw tightened, eyes flicking briefly to the glow of a streetlamp before looking away again. “You’re disgusting.”

And you are pensive about it.

“I’m thinking about getting home,” he hissed.

You are fantasizing about sliding your hand down her apron while she is behind the counter, pulling it up just enough to–

“Enough.”

–feel that pretty heat drip over your fingers while she tries to keep quiet–

Suguru scrubbed a hand over his face, groaning under his breath. “Do you even hear yourself?”

I hear you, Venom replied, smug. I hear your pulse pick up every time I say her name. I hear the way your breath changes when you think about her thighs–

“I’m not–”

-how soft they would feel wrapped around your hips.

He ground his teeth as his pace quickened. The sidewalk slicked under his sneakers, the air thick with that damp, late-night heaviness that stuck to skin.

She would let you. Venom went on, almost purring now. She’d look up at you with those eyes and open those pretty thighs–

“That’s not–”

It is.

His hands curled in the hoodie’s pocket, nails biting into his palms. He continued walking, head down, trying to drown it out, but Venom's voice slid between thoughts like oil, slow and sticky.

You could bend her over the counter after closing. Push her face down, lift her skirt–

“Shut. Up.”

-taste her until she is unsure how to stand.

He breathed out hard through his nose, trying to pretend the twitch in his gut wasn’t there.

Behind him, you trailed in near silence, your pulse racing for entirely different reasons. From the outside, it just looked like he was talking to himself – talking a lot to himself – and whatever that voice in his head was saying, it was clearly getting under his skin.

You hugged the building line, ducking into the occasional doorway or letting a row of newspaper boxes block you when he glanced vaguely around.

Suguru turned onto a narrower street, the kind with chain-link fences and the faint hum of an overworked power transformer somewhere nearby. His shadow stretched long in the streetlight before him, swaying faintly with his stride.

She is behind you. Venom murmured.

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t fuck with me.”

I never do.

“You’ve been fucking with me since you showed up.”

Look at her. Bet she is watching your back. Bet she is circulating ideas about–

“Stop.”

–what you would do if you caught her.

“I said stop.”

Venom gurgled in his head, deep and wet and smug. You would not just catch her. You would pin her.

Suguru swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the street ahead. “If I ever let you talk, you’re getting a muzzle.”

It would not fit.

He didn't respond, simply continued walking, the heat rolling off his body in waves from beneath the damp hoodie. You noticed how his shoulders kept shifting like he was working out a knot and how every so often his head dipped forward like he was trying to think through static.

Venom’s tone shifted, less taunting now, almost coaxing. We are hungry. She is right there. She comes off like she wants it.

Suguru’s mouth tightened. “You don’t know what she wants.”

I know you do.

His pace slowed for half a block, then picked up again, as if he were forcing himself not to turn around. You ducked behind a battered mailbox, pulse hammering in your ears, and waited until he was a mere thirty feet ahead before moving again.

The whole thing felt unreal – you, following him through damp side streets like some low-budget detective, and him arguing with thin air while sweat rolled down the back of his neck. And whatever was in his head? You didn’t want to believe it was real.

But the way he reacted, the heat in his voice when he hissed those clipped replies, the tension in his shoulders… It was real enough.

Suguru reached the corner, pausing under a flickering streetlamp. He dragged a hand over his face again, fingers pressing into his temples.

You are picturing her bent over.

“I’m picturing you shutting the fuck up.”

You would make her drip all over the counter–

“I said shut it.”

–and then you would lick it up until she begged.

He made a low sound in his throat, somewhere between exasperation and a growl, and started walking again, faster this time.

You followed at the same careful distance, your breath clouding faintly in the cool air, eyes fixed on the damp line down the back of his hoodie.

He didn’t look back once. Didn’t notice you at all. And somehow, that was worse – because it meant whatever was going on in his head was enough to swallow every ounce of his attention whole.

𓆩༺✧༻𓆪

The glass door chimed with the tired, half-broken bell that the convenience store had never bothered to replace, and Suguru walked in as if he owned the place.

The late-night glow reflected on the edge of his bomber jacket, the black nylon rippling faintly over his shoulders as he pushed the door shut behind him. His hair was pulled back cleaner than the last time, but not perfect – a few stubborn strands fell loose to cling to the sweat at his temples and the damp hollow at the base of his throat.

The jacket was unzipped enough to show the plain white tee underneath, already clinging in places where the heat from his skin bled through. The hem of his jeans brushed the tops of his boots with every slow step, the dark denim worn soft in all the right places, and he smelled faintly of smoke and that subtle spice he probably didn’t even know stuck to him.

You cleaned up. Venom murmured in the back of his head, voice slick and approving. Trying to impress her?

“Shut it,” Suguru muttered under his breath, scanning the aisles as if he were actually here for groceries. His hand adjusted the strap of the bag slung over one shoulder, his other hand sliding into a pocket.

She is here. I can smell her from the door.

Suguru ignored him, or tried to. The hum of the coolers at the back was loud tonight, the overhead lights warm instead of buzzing blue. A stack of discounted potato chips leaned precariously at the end of the first aisle, and for half a second he considered knocking it over just to amuse himself.

Then his gaze caught on movement behind the counter – and everything in him slowed.

You were bent slightly at the register, restocking a rack of gum with methodical precision, your hair down for once. No apron. Just a short, thin black dress that skimmed the tops of your thighs as you moved, the fabric hugging here and loosening there in a way that made his pulse quicken.

The neckline dipped just enough to tease without trying, and the rise and fall of your chest faded into the low hum of the store.

His eyes lingered a fraction too long, trailing over the shape of you.

Your heart is picking up, Venom noted, smug. You are looking at her tits.

“I’m not–”

Yes, you are.

Suguru’s brows lifted slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching before he turned his head toward the shelves, pretending to study the rows of instant noodles. He took one slow step down the aisle, then another, his fingers brushing over boxes without real interest.

Lower.

“Shut it.”

Lower, Venom repeated, his tone dipping into something filthy. Her thighs are out tonight. Bet they are pleasant.

Suguru’s gaze betrayed him before he could stop it. You’d shifted at the counter, crouching slightly to pull something from the shelf below, the hem of your dress rising just enough to catch the faintest flash of black lace.

He felt it like a gut punch – sudden, hot, and not helped by the low, syrupy rumble of Venom’s laugh in his head.

Lace. Naughty girl. I bet–

“Fuck off,” he snapped out loud, sharper than intended.

Your head shot up from behind the counter, eyes wide, lips parting just slightly in shock. You blinked at him, halfway between startled and confused, and for a second he forgot every excuse he’d been about to make.

Smooth, Venom drawled. She is doubtlessly intrigued by what you are thinking about now.

Suguru clenched his jaw and forced himself to look back at the shelf, grabbing the first thing his hand touched - a box of snack cakes he had no desire to eat. He tucked it into the crook of his arm and kept moving, telling himself he'd play it off, that maybe you hadn't heard the full bite in his tone.

But you had. You continued to watch him, your brow furrowed as if you couldn't decide whether to ask if he was all right or to keep your mouth shut and let him work through whatever was causing him to curse like that.

He took his time at the shelves, tossing a few more random items into his arm: a pack of jerky, a bag of chips, and a couple of bottles from the cooler.

The bomber jacket creaked faintly when he reached up for something higher, the shift pulling the white tee tighter across his stomach and chest. He could feel your eyes now – or maybe he just imagined it – but the effect was the same.

She’s looking. You feel it, don’t you?

“No,” he muttered, entirely unconvincing.

She is. And she’s wondering if you noticed her panties.

Suguru tightened his grip on the pile of junk food, teeth set. “Enough.”

I think she wants you to notice.

The image hit before he could stop it – your thighs parting, that black lace stretching – and he had to shift his weight just to keep from looking obvious about how his jeans suddenly felt too tight.

You could bend her over the counter, Venom purred. Pull that little dress up–

“I said shut up.”

This time it came out louder again, not quite a bark but enough to make you glance over sharply from where you were smoothing out the gum display. Your eyes met his for a split second, questioning, before you looked away with a faint shake of your head.

Now she is seeking answers. Venom whispered. You are halfway there.

Suguru ignored him, stalking up to the counter and setting down the pile of food. His pulse was high for reasons he wasn’t going to admit, and when you reached for the scanner, the curve of your neckline caught his eyes again.

He looked away before you could catch him, the heat in his face masked only by the low thrum of irritation still running through him.

“Everything alright?” You asked, your tone neutral but edged with that kind of politeness that could cut if pushed.

“Fine,” he said, his voice a shade too quick.

Venom chuckled deep inside, slow and knowing. She does not believe you. She thinks you are thinking about it.

Suguru’s hand twitched against the counter, nails drumming once before stilling. He forced his gaze to stay on the register screen, but his periphery betrayed him again – the smooth line of your thighs as you shifted your weight, the hem of that dress swaying with the movement.

He swallowed once, hard.

Venom grinned in the darkness of his head. We are going to ruin her.

Suguru lingered at the counter longer than necessary, one hand resting on the edge while you scanned the last of his junk food haul.

His gaze shifted between the register screen and the small curve of your smile, as if he was trying to muster the courage to say something and then backing out at the last second.

The hum of the coolers seemed louder now, the air in the store warmer than it had been when he walked in. He cleared his throat once, shifting his weight, then again when the first attempt didn’t stick.

“You, uh…” His voice came low, almost careful. “I meant to say–sorry about last time. You know. Ghosting you.”

Your eyes slid to his, skeptical in that way you’d perfected, with the faintest pinch at the corner of your mouth.

"Didn't mean to," he said quickly, his fingers drumming against the counter. "Things just got... weird."

You became hungry. Venom purred in his head, the words sliding in like oil under a door. And preoccupied with distraction. And titillated.

Suguru’s jaw twitched, his eyes narrowing briefly before he looked away to grab the plastic bag you’d just set down. “But… I should’ve taken you out like I said I would.”

You should take her now. Right now. Against the–

“Shut up,” he muttered under his breath.

You caught the flicker of his lips moving, the way his brow furrowed, and your suspicion sharpened. “You okay there?”

“Yeah.” He gave a single, tight nod. “I’m saying–if you’re not busy sometime, we could… Try again. On a day off. Somewhere that isn’t at two in the morning.”

Grueling, Venom sighed. Lead her somewhere private. Somewhere you can lift that little dress and see if the lace is wet.

Suguru’s grip tightened on the bag handles. "Day off," he said aloud, as if he was securing it before his other half could derail him. “Somewhere… normal.”

You tilted your head, studying him. Even cleaned up in the bomber jacket, even standing here trying to string a sentence together like a functioning adult, you couldn’t quite scrub the memory of him crouched in that alley, sweat-slick and eating tater tots with his hands while carrying on a full-blown argument with empty air.

That image had been burned into your mind, and it wasn’t going anywhere.

Still, there was something about the way he looked at you now – not the lazy amusement of before, but a quieter, more awkward sincerity. It looked strange on him, almost disarming.

Your mouth curved slowly, and you nodded slightly. “That’s fine.”

She is picturing it. Venom muttered, amused. Her legs over your shoulders, and her dress around her waist-

Suguru exhaled sharply through his nose, glaring at the register screen as if it were the source of his problems. “Alright then,” he said, his voice tight but steady. “We’ll figure it out.”

You passed the bag over the counter, your fingers brushing his just enough to make his pulse jump.

She is delicate, Venom spoke, savoring it. I believe she tastes–

Suguru was already turning for the door, cutting the voice off before it could finish, but not before the heat crept up the back of his neck.

You watched him leave, suspicious and remembering the alley. But your smile lingered as the bell over the door jingled, and for the first time in weeks, you caught yourself wondering what it might actually be like to say yes.

𓆩༺✧༻𓆪

That date Suguru planned was just a movie night at his place.

His apartment looked exactly like the kind of place you'd expect from a man who lived off of late-night takeout and convenience store snacks: a small, second-floor walk-up with a lock that stuck and a smell that came mostly from the hallway.

With a slight smile, he gestured you inside as he pushed the door open with his shoulder, as if he were offering you a palace rather than a small, poorly lit room that appeared to have been lived in. Overly lived in.

The smell of something fried permeated the warm, slightly stale air inside. The lights were low, one dim bulb in the kitchen casting a yellow haze across the mess – clothes in a loose pile against the wall, shoes kicked halfway under the couch, and a coffee table covered in receipts and the remains of takeout containers.

The TV remote was balanced precariously on a stack of old mail, and something about the arrangement of pillows suggested he slept out here more often than not.

Your eyes swept the space, catching on details as he toed his boots off by the door. There was a dent in the drywall near the kitchen like someone’s shoulder – or head – had hit it.

One curtain was hanging half off its rod. And in the kitchen, visible past the counter, the evidence hit you like a flashback: three empty bags of frozen tater tots crumpled in a heap near the trash can.

Your brows twitched, suspicion sharpening in your gut. The alley.

“What the fuck…” You mouthed to yourself, eyes narrowing.

“Don’t mind the noise,” Suguru said from behind you, brushing past to toss his keys on the counter.

A loud, pounding bass thudded through the wall from the next apartment over. “The guy next door’s a dick. He’ll turn it down when he passes out.”

You barely had time to answer before his hand came down on your head, fingers sliding lightly through your hair in a gesture that was strangely… easy. Familiar, even. You instinctively hummed in response to the touch, but your gaze remained fixed on the kitchen bags.

He didn’t notice. His palm gave your head a small, warm squeeze before he stepped past, jerking his chin toward the couch.

“Come on. Movie night.”

You followed, still perplexed as to why a grown man would have three empty bags of tater tots after previously seeing him dumpster-diving for them. But the thought was interrupted when you sat down – because the second you did, something shifted.

Suguru dropped onto the cushion next to you, his thigh brushing against yours. He was reaching for the remote when it happened – a sudden, subtle change in the way his body moved, the roll of his shoulder under his jacket almost too fluid.

Venom's voice sank low and possessive within his head. Mine.

Suguru barely had time to react before the thing under his skin pushed forward. Black tendrils, slick and sinuous, unfurled from beneath his jacket sleeve – invisible to you under the heavy fabric – and curled with deliberate weight over his arm.

They slithered higher, tightening briefly around his bicep before coiling down again, twining under the jacket until they spilled toward the gap between you.

Suguru’s breath hitched, subtle but sharp. “Don’t–” he started under his breath.

Venom didn’t listen.

The tendril flexed, broadening until it was a solid band under his sleeve, then slipped up behind you in one smooth, calculated movement. A second later, his arm – or what you thought was his arm – slid over the back of the couch and dropped around your shoulders, the weight settling warm against you as it drew you in, hip to hip, side to side.

You didn’t notice the difference, only the sudden, solid pull of him against you.

Suguru felt every inch of it – the way the tendril mimicked muscle, tightening with a faint, possessive squeeze that wasn’t entirely his own doing. His jaw flexed as he stared at the TV, pretending he was in control while Venom hummed in satisfaction.

Better, the voice hummed. She’s warm.

Suguru exhaled slowly through his nose, resisting the urge to glance down at you tucked into his side. “You’re impossible,” he muttered.

And you like it.

His fingers – real this time – brushed lightly against your upper arm in a casual, almost absent way. But under the jacket, Venom was still coiled, still holding you exactly where he wanted you, every ounce of the contact intentional.

The movie played low on the TV, but Suguru hadn’t absorbed a single frame of it. Not with you pressed against his side like this, your thigh resting warm against his and your head leaning faintly toward his shoulder.

The couch was small enough that you had to sit close, but Venom had made sure you were tucked in–still coiled under his jacket in a way that kept you against him, your scent drifting up in waves that were making it harder for him to breathe evenly.

For a while, he told himself he was fine. He could handle this. You were comfortable, relaxed, maybe even enjoying yourself. And then you shifted just a little closer, your hip brushing his, and Venom’s low, crawling voice rumbled in his head.

She is doing that on purpose.

Suguru kept his eyes on the screen. “She’s watching the movie.”

No, Venom susurrated, she is pressing that pretty body against you so we will notice. She wants us to touch her.

He tensed, jaw tight. "That won't happen," he muttered under his breath.

The thing under his skin stirred, pressing harder into his side. We could have her right now. On your lap. Dress pushed up. Let us show her.

“Shut up,” he hissed, a little louder.

You glanced up at him, your brows furrowing slightly. “Did you say something?”

He shook his head quickly, but Venom didn’t back down.

Let me talk to her.

“Not–” The word cut off as the black bled up the left side of his face, slick and liquid, teeth sharpening where there had been none, his left eye turning that inhuman white that caught the glow from the TV.

You froze mid-breath, eyes locked on the sudden transformation.

“Don’t freak out,” Suguru said quickly, turning his head away from you.

Venom ignored him entirely. His mouth—half Suguru’s, half a jagged, grinning maw—parted in a voice that was no longer confined to Suguru’s head. “She is soft. We want her on our tongue.”

Your eyes went wide, the heat crawling up your neck almost faster than the shock could register. “What the hell–”

“She doesn’t need to hear this,” Suguru snapped, clearly arguing with the thing sharing his face.

Venom’s grin widened. “She wants to hear it. Look at her cheeks. Look at her thighs pressing together.”

“I said stop.”

“She is wet,” Venom said, the word coming out like a soft purr that slid between you both. “Bet she tastes like sugar. Bet she wou–”

“Enough!” Suguru’s voice cut sharp, but his tone cracked just enough to make your gaze flick lower–past the tension in his shoulders, down to his lap where the outline in his jeans left nothing to the imagination.

Your breath hitched. You hadn’t meant to look, but the heavy, obvious press of him under the denim made it hard to think about anything else. Suguru caught the way your eyes lingered. His own widened slightly, the black creeping back from his skin as he shifted like he was trying to disguise it.

“It’s not–” he started, but the rest died in his throat when you looked back up at him, your face flushed, lips parted just enough to let the tiniest hint of a smirk through.

Venom laughed in his head, dark and pleased. Told you she wanted it.

Suguru’s pulse was a hard, steady thud in his chest. “I can explain,” he tried, but his voice had dropped low now, betraying exactly how aware he was of your eyes–and exactly where they’d been.

The air in Suguru’s apartment felt hotter than it had a second ago, heavy enough that every breath caught on your tongue. His half-transformed face–black, slick ink crawling over one side, jagged white teeth glinting in the flicker of the TV–held your gaze like you couldn’t look anywhere else.

His right eye, the human one, locked on you with a sharp, burning focus. The left was swallowed entirely in Venom’s glossy white, no iris, no pupil, just that alien gleam and the faint ripple of muscle beneath the black.

And then his mouth shifted.

Venom surged forward, taking Suguru’s lips and jaw, stretching them into something impossible–wider, hungrier, until a long, thick, glistening tongue slid free, curling in the air with obscene ease. Your eyes widened before you could stop yourself, heat punching through you so hard it stole your breath.

“Oh,” you breathed, and your voice was barely audible over the hum of the movie still playing in the background.

Suguru’s right eye–his eye–flicked up to meet yours. He wasn’t smiling, but there was something in that look, something heavy and knowing, like he’d already felt your pulse spike.

His body moved closer, caught between Venom's smooth, deliberate push and the grounded weight of his own muscle. One moment you were pressed to the couch cushions, the next his hands--large and warm, one still under the sleeve where you knew that slick black was coiled--were guiding your hips.

The couch creaked faintly as you found yourself angled back, knees parting under the weight of his slow advance. His shoulders blocked the TV light for a moment, shadowing you in his height, his breath warm against your bare thighs.

“She smells perfect,” Venom rumbled out loud, the words buzzing deep enough you could feel them in your bones.

Suguru growled low, the sound mixing with the symbiote’s voice until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. The black climbed higher over his jaw, teeth bared in a grin that wasn’t entirely human as he bent down, his nose pressing to the thin barrier of your panties.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your fingers curling instinctively against the cushion. “S-Suguru–”

Venom answered before he could. “Yes. Say it again.” The tongue slid out again, tasting the air, almost brushing you before it pulled back just enough to make you ache for it.

“I–” Your words stuttered, breaking apart when he inhaled deeply against you.

The sound he made was primal, vibrating through his chest. “Sweet,” Venom purred through half his mouth. “We want to taste. All of you.”

Suguru’s eyes–his human eyes–never left yours, even as his head lowered again. The first press of that tongue came slow, deliberate, dragging up the seam of your panties from the edge of your entrance to the sensitive swell of your clit.

Even through the fabric, the heat and wet of it made you jolt, a soft, involuntary whine slipping from your throat.

Your hand moved without permission, threading into his hair–warm, silky strands sliding between your fingers as you gripped just enough to feel the strength in the way he held himself there.

The black ink over his left cheek rippled, Venom’s pleased hum vibrating against you. “More,” the voice urged, muffled slightly by the fabric he licked through.

Suguru’s right hand gripped your thigh, spreading you a little wider. His left–still half-wrapped in black under the jacket–curled tighter over your hip, holding you in place as his tongue flattened and pressed harder, tracing every contour through the damp fabric.

Your breathing came quicker now, chest rising and falling as your fingers tightened in his hair. The wet heat, the slow, obscene drag of that inhuman length against you–it had your legs trembling before you could think to hide it.

“Tell us,” Venom coaxed, his voice vibrating through your core. “Tell us how it feels.”

You swallowed hard, pulse thudding in your ears. “I-It–” Your voice cracked on the next pass of his tongue, the slick heat catching perfectly over the throb in your clit. “It feels–good.”

Suguru’s eye darkened at your answer, his grip on your thigh tightening. Venom purred like the sound was meant for him alone, the tongue moving again, slower this time, savoring every twitch and shiver he pulled from you.

The sound of fabric tearing snapped through the air before you even registered the movement. One second, Suguru’s mouth–Venom’s mouth–was pressing heat through the thin barrier of your panties; the next, your hips were bare, the ripped scrap of lace tossed somewhere behind him. Cool air kissed your soaked folds for only a heartbeat before the slick, black-edged maw dipped back in.

And God, he didn’t hold back.

The first drag of that tongue against your pussy had you choking on a moan, your thighs tightening instinctively around his head. Venom’s growl rumbled against you, deep and guttural, sending vibrations right through your clit.

“Sweet,” he rasped into your flesh, his voice wet with you. “So appetizing.”

It was sloppy and hungry–nothing careful about the way he ate you, like he meant to drown in it. His sharp teeth glinted whenever his maw opened wide to take more of you, the slick stretch of his jaw obscene as his tongue curled and lapped at every inch. You could feel his nose bumping your clit every time he drove in deeper, the drag of breath and sound between your folds making you dizzy.

Your fingers tangled tighter in Suguru’s hair, gripping hard enough to make him grunt. You rolled your hips up against him, finding the rhythm, matching the pace of that relentless tongue as it circled and pressed into your tight, gummy walls. He pushed in as far as he could reach, then dragged back slowly, letting the tip swirl around your entrance before plunging inside again. Every pull and twist sent shocks of heat up your spine, leaving your thighs trembling.

When you dared to glance down, his eyes were already locked on yours–half of his face still human, Suguru’s dark gaze heavy and intent, the other half split wide in Venom’s grin, teeth glistening, chin wet with your slick. You could barely breathe under the weight of that stare.

And then your gaze fell lower.

One of his hands was braced on your hip, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. The other–bare, long fingers gripping at the waistband–was shoving down his jeans and boxers in one motion. The fabric bunched around his thighs, and your breath caught hard when you saw him.

Thick. Pretty. His cock curved heavy toward his stomach, the flushed pink head glistening faintly, a bead of precum at the tip. The skin was pale where his fingers gripped the base but darker in the middle and spiraling up from there–black markings, curling patterns that looked like they were part of him now, twisting around the base like ink burned into flesh.

He cursed under his breath, Suguru’s voice gritting out between your thighs. “Fucking–stop showing her that–”

Venom only growled in response, rutting his hips forward against the couch cushion, the movement making his mouth drag hard over your clit. Your cry caught in your throat, your hips jerking up into his face as his tongue shoved back inside you, twisting deep and curling against the spongy spot that had your vision going white at the edges.

Your fingers gripped his hair even harder, the muscles in your arms trembling as you held him to you. The slick sounds of him eating you out filled the room–wet, obscene, and punctuated by the low, greedy groans vibrating through his chest.

“Keep her right there,” Venom rumbled, tongue moving in quick, deliberate circles inside your pussy, nose grinding your clit. “She’s going to come. I can feel her.”

You could feel it too–tightening, coiling low, every roll of your hips meeting the exact tempo he set, every lick and push making it harder to think.

And beneath you, you could feel the shift of his hips as Suguru–half growl, half man–kept rutting lazily into the couch, his cock flushed and throbbing, desperate for the same kind of wet heat he was pulling from you.

Venom pulled back without warning, a slick pop of his tongue leaving you clenching around nothing. The symbiote’s grin curled against your inner thigh, his voice molten in the air between your legs. “Let him taste.”

And just like that, the black receded from his mouth, sliding back along his cheek and jaw until you were staring at Suguru’s face–his lips swollen and wet, chin glistening with your slick. His dark eyes focused on your pussy as if it were the only thing in the room.

His breath hitched as he leaned in, the first slow drag of his tongue making his lids flutter. “Fuck–” The groan that followed was guttural, spilling right into you. His hands came up to grip your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulled you open for him.

“God, you taste…” His voice trailed into another groan, his eyes rolling back briefly before focusing on you again. “Sweet. So sweet, baby.”

He was different from Venom–less brutal hunger, more intent, more savoring. He licked you as if he wanted to remember every texture and twitch of his tongue. Long, unhurried strokes from your entrance to your clit, flattening his tongue to drag over you, then curling the tip to tease at the slick heat just inside.

Every lap left his mouth wetter, his groans vibrating against your folds until you were shivering.

You reached for him without thinking, your hand sliding into his hair, fingers curling in the silk. “Sugu–” The name fell from you like a gasp, your hips lifting into his mouth.

That pulled a low, frightening sound from his throat, and his grip on your thighs tightened.

“Say it again,” he murmured against your clit, the words hot and damp. He closed his mouth around you, sucking gently, then harder, circling the tip of his tongue over the throbbing bundle of nerves until you were keening.

The wet sounds filled the room–slick, obscene, broken only by his quiet curses and your breathless moans. Every time you gasped his name, his mouth seemed to get more desperate, more determined to pull you under.

Then the black surged forward again, creeping over his cheek and jaw, sliding between his lips until the mouth on you was Venom’s once more–wider, wetter, the tongue thicker, longer.

“She is going to come,” Venom growled, and the tongue speared inside you, filling you in ways that made your back arch and your nails bite into Suguru’s scalp.

“Let her,” Suguru groaned from somewhere under the voice, his words muffled by your pussy. He latched his lips–Venom’s lips–around your clit again, circling with that impossible tongue even as it curled deep inside, stroking at your sweetest spot.

“Sugu—oh my God–” you cried out, your voice breaking as your hips rocked into his face, every nerve alight, the heat coiling impossibly tight with each relentless lick and thrust.

His eyes–one human dark, one alien white–looked up at you through the mess of it all, and you felt yourself teeter right on the edge, your thighs trembling in his grip as his mouth worked you like you were the only thing worth tasting.

Your body snapped tight before you could even warn him. The pressure had been building with every wet drag of his mouth and every thick curl of Venom’s tongue inside you, and now it was surging up too fast to stop. Your fingers fisted in Suguru’s hair, pulling him harder against you as your hips bucked, chasing the heat that had your vision sparking.

“Sugu–hnngh, ah, fu–” Your head tipped back into the couch as your thighs trembled around his head.

That was all it took for him to groan into you, low and filthy, one hand leaving your thigh to wrap around his own cock. He stroked himself hard, his fist slick with precum, the sound of it mixing with the obscene mess between your legs. His hips rocked into his hand in short, needy jerks, but his mouth never left you.

He kissed your pussy like he was trying to worship it–soft presses to your folds, lips dragging over your clit in between long, lingering licks that had you whining. Then he used both thumbs to spread you open, holding you there so he could see everything, tongue plunging deep again before curling up to flick over your sweetest spot.

The slick sounds were filthy, wet, and shameless, punctuated by the little muffled growls that rolled out of him every time you tightened around his tongue.

Then Venom pushed forward again, spilling black onto Suguru's lips and stretching his mouth wide. The tongue on your clit grew thicker and heavier, swirling tight circles with impossible precision as the rest of it pressed inside, fucking into you in slow, strong strokes.

Your back arched sharply, a choked sound leaving your throat as your orgasm tore through you–hot, hard, relentless. You saw white behind your eyelids, stars dancing in the edges of your vision as you trembled, your grip on his hair almost desperate.

Suguru’s groan vibrated right against your clit, his fist working his cock faster now, chasing his own release as he fingered you through it–two thick digits pumping in and out of you, curling in perfect rhythm with Venom’s tongue.

The sensation was overwhelming and raw, the mix of human heat and alien skill pulling every last aftershock from your body until you were slumped against the couch, gasping.

Venom hummed against you, pleased, and you could feel Suguru’s mouth–both his and not–smile faintly against your overstimulated clit before giving it one last, slow lick, like he wasn’t ready to let you go yet.

Suguru didn’t give you a chance to breathe before he was hauling you up into his arms, his strength making it effortless.

Your legs wrapped tight around his waist, instinctive, locking at the ankles as his big hands slid under you–palms full of the soft flesh of your ass. His fingers dug in strongly enough to bruise, pulling you flush against the thick line of his cock trapped between you.

His mouth was his own again, but it was still slick from Venom’s work, and he crashed it to yours in a kiss that was deep, messy, and desperate. His groan spilled into you as his tongue slid against yours, the sound shivering straight down your spine.

You could feel the subtle tremor in his chest with every exhale, the way his body seemed to vibrate between holding back and losing control completely.

The head of his cock pressed between your soaked folds as he walked, the slow grind dragging his flushed length through your wet heat. Every brush over your clit had him groaning low, the sound catching in his throat.

“Fuck–” he muttered against your lips, the word breaking into something closer to a whimper when you rolled your hips against him. “You’re–god, you’re so warm…”

By the time he reached the bedroom, his breathing was ragged, and he was almost trembling with the need to be inside you. He lowered you onto the bed, but only just–your back met the mattress for a second before your hand shot up to grip his hair.

The sharp tug made him hiss, his eyes fluttering half-shut, a growl building low in his chest. Instead of pulling away, he surged back down, kissing you harder–messy, teeth clashing, his hips rutting against you with enough force that the bed creaked.

His cock slid through your slick again, the swollen head catching at your entrance and dragging up until it nudged your clit, making you shudder.

Suguru’s body caged yours completely, his weight heavy over you, his knees digging into the mattress as he shoved you up toward the headboard.

The heat of him was everywhere–his breath hot against your cheek, his chest pressing to yours, the blunt head of his cock parting you so gradually you could feel every vein drag over your entrance.

Even like this, with your thighs locked around his waist and your nails digging crescents into his biceps, he was only pushing in a few inches at a time. You were already stretched tight around him, the stretch burning in that addictive, toe-curling way that made your toes curl into the sheets.

“Fuck–” Suguru’s voice cracked, his head dipping to press his forehead against yours, sweat dampening the loose strands of hair falling around his face. “You’re–tight. God, you’re so fucking tight, baby.”

“She is quintessential,” Venom rumbled, his voice thick with hunger, the sound vibrating against Suguru’s skull. “We are going to fill her up. Make her drip.”

You shuddered at the sound, your walls fluttering around him, and Suguru groaned like he felt it everywhere.

“Yeah,” he breathed, his voice low and hoarse, eyes fluttering shut. “Yeah, we are.”

He pushed another inch in, your wetness clinging to him as his hips rolled forward, slow but relentless. You could feel every pulse of him inside you, every twitch, and the pressure only built when he pulled back just enough to push deeper again, the head of his cock pressing right against that soft, sensitive spot that made your vision flash.

Your nails clawed at his biceps, dragging down over the hard swell of muscle as your back arched.

“S-Sugu–” you gasped, the word breaking when his hips ground against yours, forcing you to take more of him.

The sound he made was somewhere between a groan and a growl, his voice rough when he spoke. “You feel–fuck–so good, I can’t–”

Breed her, Venom hissed, his tone filthier now, molten in Suguru’s head. She is designed for it. For us. She is going to look so lovely with our cum dripping out.

You clenched around him hard, and Suguru’s jaw snapped tight. “Fuck, don’t–don’t do that unless you want me to lose it,” he warned, though his hips pushed forward again, his cock sliding in another slow inch.

Venom’s chuckle was deep and knowing. She wants it. She is milking us for it already.

Suguru’s head tipped back, a groan ripping out of him, his hips jerking as if he couldn’t control the urge to sink deeper. “God–yeah, she fucking does…”

Your breath came in quick, shallow bursts, and your nails tightened in his skin as you tried to take more of him, despite the fact that your body was nearly stretched to its limit.

He still wasn’t even all the way in. and you could already feel him everywhere–thick, hot, throbbing deep inside you while the rest of him pulsed against your slick folds.

And when his hips drew back just enough to slam forward with a heavy, wet sound, your body gave a sharp jolt, the sheer force of it making your mind spin.

Suguru’s gaze dropped to your stomach, his voice ragged. “Fuck–look at you, taking me–”

"It is not enough," Venom cut in. “We are going to keep her here, push her knees up, and fuck her until she cannot think about anything else.”

Suguru’s mouth twisted into a dark, bliss-drunk smirk. “Yeah,” he panted, eyes fixed on yours, “we are.”

Suguru didn’t even give you the chance to breathe before he adjusted his grip on your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he shoved your knees up toward your chest.

The change in angle made the thick head of his cock press right up against your deepest spot, and you gasped–sharp, involuntary–your back arching off the bed as your nails raked down his biceps.

Suguru’s jaw clenched, sweat dripping from his temple as he folded himself over you, chest to chest, your legs pinned up against you by his weight. His cock was still buried halfway; your pussy stretched so tight around him it felt like you were molding to his shape. Every subtle pulse of him inside you had your toes curling into the sheets.

“Fucking–perfect,” he groaned, his voice shaking.His eyes remained fixed on your face as he pushed deeper, slowly and brutally, ensuring you felt every inch.. “God, baby… you’re so warm. I’m not gonna last if you keep looking at me like that.”

Your breath hitched at the rawness in his voice.

“Sugu–”

The moment the nickname fell from your lips, he groaned as if you had pulled it directly from his chest. His hips jerked forward, burying another inch of him inside you until you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

She is taking us so nicely, Venom’s voice rumbled, sending a shiver down Suguru’s spine. Look at her. She is meant for it. For this.

“Yeah…” Suguru’s head dipped to kiss you hard, your muffled whine making his cock throb inside you. He swallowed the sound, panting into your mouth between words. “You feel so–fuck–good. I can’t–”

Venom cut him off with a guttural purr. Fill her up. Pump her full until she’s dripping.

You could feel Suguru shudder at that, his hips starting to move–deep, slow thrusts that forced you to take all of him, each one punching little gasps out of you. Your walls clung to him like you were afraid to let go, and the stretch burned in the most intoxicating way.

Your nails dug harder into his arms, the muscle under your hands flexing with every thrust. He was so big, so thick inside you, that every push made your vision blur at the edges.

“Fuck, you’re gripping me so tight–” he groaned, his forehead pressing to yours as his pace quickened. “Like you’re trying to milk me already.”

She is. Venom answered for you, his tone sharp with lust. She craves it. Strives to feel us melt inside her.

You let out a broken sound, somewhere between a gasp and a moan, and Suguru swore under his breath. “Don’t say shit like that when I’m–fuck–already close.”

His thrusts got harder and deeper, the bedframe groaning with each snap of his hips. You were almost folded in half now, every push making you see stars as his cock hit you in places you didn’t even know existed.

“You like this, huh?” He breathed against your cheek, his voice strained with effort. “Me holding you open like this? Stretching you out until you can’t think?”

Your answer came in a shaky whimper of his name, your hands sliding up to clutch his shoulders.

She is going to give way, Venom purred, his voice vibrating in both your heads. And we’re going to make her.

Suguru groaned, his hips rolling deeper and slower, grinding against your sweet spot until your gaze rolled away.

“Yeah, baby,” he muttered, “I’m gonna fuck you so deep you’ll still feel me tomorrow. Fill you up ‘til you’re dripping.”

The combination of his words, Venom’s filth, and the relentless drive of his cock had you teetering right on the edge again–your body arching into him, your breath breaking into short, needy gasps as the pressure coiled tighter and tighter.

“Come on,” Suguru gritted, his hips slamming into yours with bruising force now. “Give it to me. Cum for me while I’m inside you. Make a mess on me.”

Suguru had you pinned under him so tight you could barely move, the full weight of his body folding you in half, knees pressed almost to your chest.

Every deep, deliberate thrust made you feel like you were being split open, the blunt head of his cock dragging against every tender spot inside you.

You were right there–your body screaming to let go–but the intensity had you shaking your head against the pillow, breath coming in short, desperate bursts.

“Ah–ah, I–can’t,” you gasped, your voice breaking.

His hips slowed just enough to grind into you, making you feel the full, thick length of him press against that sweet spot inside you, hard and unyielding.

“You can,” he breathed, his voice low and hoarse against your ear. “Fuck–look at you, taking me all the way–”

Venom’s laugh slithered through his head, deep and filthy. She is going to explode. Push deeper; let her feel it in her stomach.

Suguru shifted his weight, tightening his grip on your thighs and angling his hips just so, before driving forward in a slow, brutal thrust that bottomed out inside you.

You cried out, the sound high and raw, your eyes flying wide when you felt it–his cock pressing so deep there was a faint bulge in your lower belly.

“There it is,” Suguru groaned, one hand releasing your thigh to press lightly over that spot, the other still holding you open. “You feel that? That’s me–inside you. Right here.”

You whimpered, the sensation overwhelming, and your nails clawed at his biceps for something to ground you. The stretch, the fullness, the way his voice dropped even lower–it all had your walls fluttering desperately around him.

Play with her, Venom urged, his tone thick with satisfaction. Make her cum all over us.

Suguru’s thumb slid down between you, finding your clit with ease. The first slow, deliberate circle sent your back arching off the bed, the pressure inside you doubling as he buried himself to the hilt.

“Breathe, baby,” he murmured, eyes locked on your face. “Let it happen. You’re so close��I can feel you squeezing me.”

You shook your head again, but your hips betrayed you, grinding up into his thumb as the heat built sharper and hotter.

His thrusts started again, slow and deep, each one punctuated with that perfect grind of his pelvis against you, his thumb working your clit with maddening precision.

Your breath came faster, your thighs trembling in his grip. “S-Sugu–oh my–”

“Yeah,” he groaned, sweat dripping from his jaw onto your skin. “That’s it. Cum for me. Make a mess of it, baby.”

The coil inside you snapped hard, pleasure ripping through you in waves so intense your vision blurred. You screamed his name, your nails digging so deep into his arms you felt the muscle flex under your grip.

Your pussy tightened around him, milking him, and you could feel him shudder, his own groan breaking as he fucked you through it, his thumb never leaving your clit.

Venom roared in the back of his head, triumphant. Good girl.

Suguru’s hips kept rolling, chasing every last tremor out of you until you were slumping against the bed, chest heaving, skin slick with sweat. He was still inside you, throbbing, the bulge in your belly pulsing with every heartbeat of his cock.

Your body was still quivering from the aftershocks when Suguru planted both hands on either side of your head, his broad frame blocking out everything but him. The muscles in his arms flexed under your grip, the cords in his neck standing out as he bit back a groan.

His thrusts deepened–slower, heavier–each one punching a needy sound out of your mouth. He was trying to be gentle, but his cock was swelling inside you, that thick stretch only becoming more unbearable in the best way.

The head kept kissing your cervix with each roll of his hips, and the sensation had your nails biting harder into his skin.

“Gonna fill you,” he panted against your lips, his breath hot, his voice so wrecked it was almost a whimper. His forehead rested against yours, sweat making his loose hair stick to his cheek. “Gonna–fuck–give you all of it.”

Venom’s purr slid between you both, vibrating against Suguru’s skull. Breed her. Pump her full until she bursts.

His eyes–dark, glassy–fluttered shut for a second, his hips stuttering. “Yeah,” he breathed, almost to himself, “yeah, we will.”

The heat in your belly coiled tighter with each deep push, but you could feel the change in him–the way his rhythm lost its careful pace, hips snapping harder, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the bedroom over the wet drag of him inside you.

His mouth found yours, kissing you deeply, his groans melting into your moans until you couldn’t tell which were yours and which were his.

And then he broke.

Suguru’s hips locked tight to yours, his cock buried to the hilt, the thick throb of his release pumping into you so deep you could feel the hot gush filling every inch. His groan cracked into something closer to a growl, muffled against your lips as his hands gripped you tighter, pulling you flush to him to take every drop.

The room was filled with the sound of your mingled breaths, the faint slap of the headboard shifting, and the wet, sticky press of him still inside you.

But he didn’t pull out.

Venom surged forward before you could catch your breath, the black crawling over his shoulders, his jaw, and his cheeks. You felt it first in his cock–it swelled, stretching you impossibly wider, the girth pressing hard against your walls as if it were molding you to fit him.

Your gasp was cut short when he flipped you with dizzying speed, your back hitting the mattress for a heartbeat before you were straddling him.

“Ride,” Venom’s voice came out of his mouth now, deeper and more commanding than Suguru’s. His hands—huge, the nails sharper now—gripped your hips and pulled you down, impaling you on his length in one smooth movement.

Your head fell back with a loud, shameless moan, your palms splaying over his sweat-slick chest. His abs were hard under your hands, flexing each time he thrust up into you, the muscles in his arms bunching as he used his grip to bounce you on him.

The sound of the room was obscene—your wetness squelching with every movement, the rhythmic slap of your ass meeting his thighs, and the bed creaking in protest.

Suguru’s voice fought to break through Venom’s dominance, his words ragged under the symbiote’s.

“F-fuck–look at you, baby–”

You did, and it nearly undid you again. His human half was flushed, strands of damp hair plastered to his forehead, his eyes hooded but burning into yours. The other half of his face was all jagged teeth and black sheen, that alien white eye unblinking.

His grip shifted higher, fingers curling under the hem of your dress. The fabric tore with a sharp rip, pooling uselessly at your sides, leaving you bare except for your bra. You barely had time to breathe before your breasts were ripped away, bouncing free.

One of his hands cupped you immediately, rough palm and sharp nails dragging over your nipple until it peaked, the other hand squeezing your hip as he thrust up harder. His mouth–Suguru’s mouth again, for just a second–latched onto your breast, sucking deep before biting gently, his groan vibrating through you.

Venom’s voice slid out between kisses and sucks, “Look at her face–look at how she is fond of it. Lewd little thing.”

And you did look lewd–eyes glassy, mouth parted, every sound spilling from your throat high and sweet as your hips rolled against him. Each thrust made your body jolt, your tits bouncing in his hands, his cock hitting so deep you could swear you felt him in your throat.

The mixture of Suguru’s human heat, his desperate groans, and Venom’s unrelenting control had you grinding harder, chasing the next wave with everything you had.

Your thighs were already trembling, muscles burning from the pace he’d forced on you, but Suguru’s hands on your hips kept you moving, dragging you up his length and slamming you back down until you were choking on every gasp.

His cock felt impossibly thick, stretching you around the swollen head with each rise, filling you so deep on every drop that your vision kept flashing white.

The bed groaned with the rhythm, your slick gushing down his shaft and onto his lap, the squelch of your pussy audible in the air between the wet slap of skin on skin. Sweat rolled down his temple, his head falling back against the pillows, throat exposed as his Adam’s apple bobbed with each rough breath.

“God–baby, keep going,” he rasped, voice shaking. His fingers dug bruises into your hips as he pushed you harder, chasing the slap of you meeting him. “Feels too good–fuck–don’t stop.”

You shook your head, breathless, tears prickling in your eyes. “S-Sugu–I can’t–”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, but the strain in his voice gave him away. His hips started snapping up to meet yours, pounding into you from below, the force rattling through your entire body.

The angle had him grinding right into your sweet spot, and the constant drag caused your walls to spasm around him unexpectedly. Your nails dug into his slick chest for balance as you clenched down tight.

Suguru’s entire body jolted. A broken, wrecked sound tore out of him–half a groan, half a choked sob–as his head snapped forward, eyes wide and glassy.

“F-fuck–” His voice cracked, his cock twitching deep inside you.

“You are crying,” Venom’s voice slid out, coy and mocking, the white eye blinking lazily up at you. “Look at you. You cannot even handle her squeezing you.”

Your vision was blurred from more than just tears, and your lips curled into a weak, breathless laugh as your hips attempted to ride him despite the trembling in your thighs. “Sugu–”

“Don’t–don’t tease me right now,” he gasped, but his hips were still driving up into you, chasing every flutter of your cunt like he couldn’t get enough.

His hands slid higher, cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples before squeezing them greedily. The combination of the sharp pleasure and the fullness inside had you moaning through your laughter, the sound shaky and high.

Venom’s chuckle was low and wet in the room. “She is laughing at you.”

“I’m–fucking–close,” Suguru panted, almost pleading, his eyes rolling back for a second when you clenched again.

You could feel it–the way his cock swelled and throbbed inside you, the telltale rhythm of his hips faltering before slamming up into you hard enough to knock a whimper from your lips. He groaned, the sound shattering into a whine as heat spilled deep inside you, thick and hot, flooding you until you could feel it leak.

“Ah–fuck–” His hands gripped your tits harder as he rode it out, hips thrusting up in slow, deliberate rolls, like he wanted to push every drop back inside. His lashes were damp, his breath uneven, and his voice cracked when he murmured, “Stay–stay right there, don’t–don’t let it out.”

Venom didn’t miss the moment to twist the knife. “Piteous. Weeping while you fill her.”

You were too dazed to care, the haze of pleasure making you giggle softly even as you moaned from the aftershocks. Your hips twitched weakly over him, the lazy grind making him hiss, his cock still sensitive but unwilling to leave the tight clutch of your pussy.

Suguru groaned again, almost pained with how much he wanted to keep it there, and Venom’s mocking purr filled the air while you leaned forward against his chest, still laughing breathlessly, still shivering from the mess he’d made of you.

You were still catching your breath, your forehead resting against his chest, when Suguru’s hands slid up your back and pulled you into a kiss. It wasn’t neat or practiced–just hot, wet, and messy, both of you tasting each other’s moans between shallow, panting breaths.

His lips moved like he didn’t care how sloppy it got, his tongue sliding against yours in slow, filthy strokes, a low groan rumbling in his chest each time you sucked on it.

The weight of him shifted, his big hands gripping your hips as he rolled, flipping you beneath him in one smooth movement. Your back met the mattress again, and his body came down over yours, pressing you into the sheets without breaking the kiss.

The sheer size of him over you, his hair falling in loose, sweat-damp strands around your face, made it impossible not to fist your hands in it.

You tugged hard, and he groaned into your mouth–low, almost pained, his cock twitching deep inside your still-sensitive cunt from the jolt of pleasure. The sound was enough to make your grip tighten, your nails scratching lightly at his scalp, and his hips jerked again, unplanned, sending a slow gush of his cum deeper into you.

“Fuck–” He broke the kiss to pant against your lips, eyes half-lidded but fixed on you. “Do that again.”

You tugged harder, and his jaw went slack, a shiver running through him as he twitched inside you again.

His forehead pressed to yours, Suguru’s breath came heavy as he coaxed, almost pleading, “Shhh… ignore him. Just me now,” in a low, shaking voice–chasing Venom back into the quiet of his mind until it was only him leaning down to kiss you again.

One of his hands slid between your bodies, spreading your legs wider until you were completely open for him. His fingers found your clit easily, slick and swollen, and the first slow circle had you gasping into his mouth.

His touch was steady but purposeful, dragging over the sensitive bundle in a rhythm that had you rocking up into him without realizing it.

Inside, he was still pulsing–every twitch another thick drip of warmth leaking out of him and into you. He could feel it, too, the way you fluttered around him each time his fingertip pressed just right, making his hips stutter as overstimulation crawled up his spine.

“God, you’re… fuck, you’re sucking me dry,” he groaned, his voice cracking as another spasm hit him and he spilled into you again, smaller gushes that made him groan through his teeth.

Your hands stayed tangled in his hair, pulling and twisting as you kissed him harder, tasting the raw edge in his breathing. Every tug had his cock jerking inside you, every grind of his hips pushing more of his mess deeper.

The room smelled like sex and sweat, the sound of your kisses loud and unrestrained, his breath catching each time you toyed with his hair like you knew exactly what it did to him.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he whispered against your mouth, but he didn’t stop touching you, didn’t stop rocking into you slow and deep, chasing every twitch and spill like he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving you empty.

𓆩༺✧༻𓆪

It had been a few weeks since you’d started officially seeing Suguru, though “officially” was a loose term when you factored in the monster living inside him. You’d gotten used to the late nights, the messy apartment, and the way he always looked at you like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing. But you hadn’t–couldn’t–get used to this.

Your knees dug into the mattress, arms trembling where they braced against his bedframe, and back arched as something far thicker than fingers curled inside you.

The wet, obscene sound of it filled the small bedroom–slick and constant, a lewd reminder of the black, oil-slick tentacles

Venom had split from himself to bury deep in your cunt. They writhed and flexed with unnerving precision, curling against every tender, oversensitive part inside you, the ridges along them dragging over your walls as you choked out another moan.

Suguru was behind you, his chest warm against your back, the sweat on his skin smearing against yours with each subtle grind of his hips.

His mouth moved over your shoulder blades, down the curve of your spine, pressing kisses that quickly turned into bites. You felt the drag of his teeth, the wet seal of his mouth as he marked you, sucking hard enough to leave fresh bruises blooming over the fading ones from last time.

“That’s it, baby… you’re taking it so good,” Suguru’s voice was low and rough, praise spilling against your skin in heavy breaths. His big hands held your hips steady while Venom’s tentacles pushed deeper, each thickened length twisting inside you until your eyes rolled back.

“My perfect girl. Made for me.”

Before you could shudder out his name, his voice shifted–distorted, darker–Venom sliding in to take over his mouth without warning.

“Made to be fucked,” it growled, the words filthy and sharp, cutting through the praise like a blade. “You are dripping down your thighs like a little nympho.”

You gasped, your nails digging into the mattress, half from the humiliation, half from the way the tentacles flexed in perfect rhythm with the taut grinding deep before curling against your sweetest spot until your legs shook.

Suguru’s groan rumbled against your shoulder as he wrestled control back, his lips moving over the place Venom had just spoken from.

“Ignore him,” he panted, kissing where the words had landed. “You’re gorgeous. You’re–fuck–” His own voice cracked as another tentacle slid out, only to push back in even harder, causing the bedframe to groan.

Venom’s laughter was low and cruel in his throat. “She relishes it. Look at her, pleading for more.”

Your breath hitched, vision blurring as fresh tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, falling hot down your cheeks. Your hips twitched against Suguru’s grip, desperate despite yourself, the relentless stretch leaving your whole body trembling.

The tentacles didn’t let up–thick, wet spirals working in and out of you while smaller tendrils teased at your clit, rubbing in tight, maddening circles that had you gasping into the sheets.

Suguru kissed the wet tracks of your tears, his teeth grazing the slope of your neck as his hips rocked against your ass, the sound of your slick and the squelching tentacles echoing in the room.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured against your ear, breath shuddering as he watched you fall apart. “Mine.”

Venom’s voice rolled over his in the next heartbeat, low and taunting. “Ours.”

The tentacles didn’t slow when Suguru moved down between your legs, his broad hands sliding over the curve of your ass to spread you open for his hungry gaze.

The black, wet tendrils pumped in and out of you in a cruel rhythm, stretching you so far that you could feel every ridge and twist. He groaned at the sight, his breath hot against the slick mess between your thighs, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he held you still.

“God, you’re–” His voice broke off into a strained growl, his lips parting just enough for his breath to fan over your throbbing clit. “You’re perfect like this.”

Venom pulsed in his veins, vibrating in his chest, the tentacles reacting to every twitch of his thoughts.

“Taste her,” the symbiote rumbled, voice dripping with hunger. “She is going to overflow your mouth. You know she will.”

Suguru didn’t argue this time. He lowered his mouth, his tongue pressing flat and hot over your clit, the sudden contact dragging a strangled moan from your throat. His nose bumped against you with each swipe, and the tentacles seemed to sense his pace, curling inside you in sync with his tongue.

The combined sensations had you squirming, but his grip was iron–keeping you in place while he lapped at you like he was starving, groaning into your pussy when your hips jerked forward.

The sound of it was obscene: the slick squelch of the tentacles, the wet suck of his mouth, the choked noises leaving your lips.

Your thighs shook violently, the tension in your stomach snapping with a sudden, overwhelming release that had you screaming into the sheets. It hit hard–liquid heat rushing out of you in a burst you couldn’t control, splashing against his mouth and chin as your whole body convulsed.

Suguru didn’t pull back. If anything, he doubled down, groaning loud and deep as he tasted you, drinking every drop while the tentacles kept you trembling.

Your legs kicked against the mattress, heels stomping in short, helpless bursts, but he stayed locked on you–tongue stroking over your clit as your squirts grew weaker and your voice cracked around high-pitched cries.

When you finally collapsed forward, boneless and gasping, he released you from his hold, kissing the swollen, overstimulated heat between your thighs one last time before pulling back with a deep inhale. His lips were wet, his chin was dripping, and he was panting like he’d just run himself into the ground.

He pressed his palms under your hips and lifted you effortlessly, his chest heaving as he placed you fully on the bed.

The tentacles finally slipped away from you, returning to him with a wet slide that left you aching and empty. Your slick glistened down your thighs, and he grabbed a nearby towel without even looking, crouching between your legs again to gently clean you up.

His hands were warm, his touch gentle despite the feral look in his dark eyes, and he smoothed his palm over your thigh when he noticed the faint tremors that were still affecting your legs.

“Breathe, baby,” he murmured, voice rough but tender as his thumb stroked over your skin. “We’ve got you.”

Please do not plagiarize, translate, or take credit for my work. Reblog, follow, and like to support!!

A/N: This one was asked for by an anonymous, i'm like well I already did a Spiderman Gojo, might as well do a Venom Geto. Makes me wanna do like all the jjk men as Marvel AU characters...hmm...

8K notes · View notes

cheolinn · 7 days ago

Text

“Just the tip,” you whispered, breath shaky, thighs already falling open for him.

Caleb’s lips curved against your jaw, his cock heavy between your legs. “Just the tip,” he repeated smoothly, like he was agreeing to something small and harmless. “I’ll make it sweet for you.”

The blunt head pressed into you, sliding past your folds, stretching you open just enough to make you gasp. Caleb groaned low, savoring the feel of your walls fluttering around him.

“God, even the tip and you’re already squeezing me. You love this too much,” he whispered, brushing a kiss against your cheek.

You whined, nails raking lightly down his shoulders. “It’s… it’s supposed to be just—”

“I know,” he cut in gently, rocking his hips forward. Another inch sank in, dragging a moan from both of you. His hand slid down to your thigh, thumb stroking tenderly as he pushed deeper, slow enough for you to melt under him. “But sweetheart… you’re taking me so well. Look at you, already dripping for me.”

Your back arched, the stretch sharp but intoxicating, your body opening up to him with each roll of his hips.

“See?” Caleb murmured, voice dark with praise. “Your body’s begging for all of me. Not just the tip. You want every inch, don’t you?”

The only answer you managed was a broken moan, thighs trembling around his waist. That was all the permission he needed. He sank in the rest of the way, bottoming out with a groan that rattled through his chest.

“Fuck, perfect,” he breathed, kissing your temple like he hadn’t just broken the promise. “I can’t hold back from you. Not when you take me this deep.”

He set a steady rhythm, every thrust hitting deeper, coaxing cries from your lips until your protests were nothing but gasps of his name. His hand caught your jaw, turning your face so your dazed eyes met his.

“Look at you,” he whispered, tender and wicked all at once. “I told you it would feel better this way. You never really wanted me to stop, did you?”

Your body answered for you, clenching around him, spilling slick down his length. Caleb groaned, thrusting harder, faster, corrupting every ounce of your restraint.

“Good,” he coaxed, kissing you hard as he drove into you. “Give in to me. Take it all. You’re mine, and you’ll never want ‘just the tip’ again.”

3K notes · View notes

cheolinn · 7 days ago

Text

LAY ALL YOUR LOVE ON ME.

𝖘𝖚𝖒.ㅤ★ Laid eyes on the bad boy of your dreams at a sleazy bar at 1 AM, 'n the sleazy bastard followed you when you ran off to the ladies' room... uh, of course you had to have him. But this isn't your first time fucking around with Mister Bad Boy Suguru Geto, is it?

𝖜𝖈ㅤ★ 3k

𝖈𝖜ㅤ★ strictly NO under 18s, smut, light angst, Suguru is a sleazy lying bastard, rough sex, semi-public, (bathroom stall), pet names (bunny, baby) & name-calling (slut), unprotected sex, creampie, big d!ck Suguru, sum squirting

🍒 x 🐇 x 💗@𝖆𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖎 ㅤ𝖑𝖎𝖇𝖗𝖆𝖗𝖞

You're so fucked.

Remember that sleazy, bad boy you messed around with last October? That's right, the one who slithered into your life, ruined your innocence (as by your request), and whom you had to run away from because... well, your gut instinct told you to. You were his sweet little secret thing on the side. He was your gothrock madman sent from hell to woo you. A real pretty-faced roughboy.

Black chipped nails, black hair, black clothes — see how fucked you are? And what else? Wolfcut. Kinky bastard. Devil intent behind a sickeningly handsome face... with the smile of an angel.

He lived a city away from you, so why was he hanging around in a sleazy bar on the west side, on your turf?

You catch sight of him, immediately feeling stricken by every nasty memory of him feeling his fingers inside you and sticking his pierced tongue down your throat, and IMMEDIATELY you make haste to disappear from existence before he — oh fuck, he saw you.

Worse, he smiled instantly when he saw you. And then nobody else in the room existed to him but you.

What a sight for sore eyes, he thinks. His sweet and slutty angel reappearing in the exact place that he expected her to be on a lonely Saturday night. Hm, were you looking for someone to numb the pain of not having him in your life? N'aw, poor thing.

Suguru begins to make his way over to you at the bar, squeezing through the thick crowd of mostly drunk and obnoxious party animals.

"Uh, I'm going to the bathroom!" you tell your friend hurriedly, and without any further explanation, you leave him hanging there and dash for the bathroom.

You're sooo fucked.

You dive into the temporary refuge of the yucky bar bathroom. Neon pink light. Fake ferns hanging. Mirrors cracked. Kissy marks on one of them. Telephone number on the other.

Then the devil himself appeared at the doorframe of the ladies' bathroom. Your heart shot up into your throat.

"Bunny," Suguru's voice rung out, dangerously affectionate, "It's been so long, how've you been? Still seeing that what's-his-name?"

"Suguru." you swallowed, speaking stiffly. "Hello."

Ooooh, he loved how you looked like a deer in headlights. Like you never expected him to follow you into the bathroom and corner you like this.

Try to play it cool, girl, maybe give him a little kiss then leave him high and dry — that was the plan that was coming to your mind.

"This is the ladies' room, Suguru." you scolded.

"Aw, you're right. Would be terrible if we got caught... again."

Ah, fuck. He knew what he was doing.

Just that was enough to work your memory — it was almost dizzying feeling the rush of images in your head. Images of what? Uh, Suguru behind you, the bathroom stall door shut tight, orgasm after orgasm wrecking your body, sticky sweat dripping down your breasts and thighs, and your back in the sluttiest arch that even a pornstar would have envied.

You were already getting wet after hearing the sound of his smooth accent, and the intoxication of his cologne didn't fucking help — no, we really need to talk about this; because how could his cologne alone inspire such a carnal desire in you? It made NO sense. You were just a normal girl, very sane and functional in society, but around this man? Not even a slight resemblance to that.

Feral — a better word to describe the state he put you in.

Your effect on him? Well, he was already feral. That was his natural state of being. But fuck did he have to hold himself back from doing the obscene to you in that tiny bathroom. His hand twitched in his pocket.

Reflections trapped in the shiny black tiles of the bathroom, as if stuck in that silent moment, you and him just stared at each other with enough intensity to tear apart the heavens.

Gods cried whenever you two stood near to each other, you know? I mean, the thoughts that passed through your minds... just appalling, really. Two human beings shouldn't be that obsessed with each other. It wasn't normal how much you two wanted each other. And it was disastrous how horny just a few words and a bit of eye contact could make you. Like if he couldn't squeeze his nasty cock inside you one more time, then he'd snap and go psycho — you were even worse.

You were crazed for him in a way that was not just a threat to feminism, but to your own moral principles, too.

"Hey..." Suguru began, inching closer to you, taking a ballsy risk despite knowing that you could run away like a frightened little bunny, "Still into me? Or am I wasting my time?" he asked, smirking as if he already knew the answer... yet lingering, like he was frightened of hearing anything but a 'yes' in reply.

"Yeah, you're wasting your time... Suguru, I don't want nothin' to do with you... you're crazy."

"You say that and yet you're the one who chased me back then. Funny. I never initiated shit, remember? You wanted me so bad you pried me apart from my girlfriend, and then like a coward you ran because it started getting 'too serious'. I'm still pissed about that, ya know? I really liked you. You listened to me when I was being beaten down by her."

"And you were bullshitting the whole time!" you raised your voice, and for some reason that turned him on so bad, like, fuck, could he just makeout with your pretty little face against these cold tile walls and bite up your neck already? Strip that little dress off your slutty body and worship you from lips to neck to pussy? Like, come on, baby let the devil in.

He knew you knew that he was the biggest fucking liar ever, that he was never even in a toxic relationship, that he was the one fucking around on her with you and telling you tall tales, lying that the relationship was 'over'. Uh, yeah, right.

Your ears went hot. Felt all on edge. Anxious to run both towards him and away from him at a hundred miles per hour.

"You're the worst thing that ever happened to me, you know?!" your voice quivered with lust.

"What, 'cuz you couldn't move on from the way I kissed you? Touched you? Ruined you?"

He was coming closer and closer towards you.

Ah, god, was he sexy. And you? Well your sundress wasn't giving much hint of your body, but that turned him on even more... especially because he knew what you looked like underneath all that.

Funny how your mind conflicted with your body in that instant. Because every inch of your flesh ached for him to consume it, but your mind screamed for you to run — run and don't look back.

Oh, baby, he's no good for you.

But you want him. You want him.

Suguru's big black eyes look down at you. There's hardly a twinkle of light in them. Just raw, dirty, awful, unstoppable lust.

"If you want to, we can continue where we left off..." he murmured, cautiously closing the distance between you and him.

Every hair on the back of your neck stood up. He was trapped in the scent of your perfume, lost in your ethereal gaze. Fuck, can't he just shove you into a bathroom stall and kiss you until your lips are bruised? Have you all to himself, and please the overly possessive freak that he is?

It's hard to say no to him, as it always has been. You start breathing harder, and he sees your chest rising and falling, and all his blood rushes down and now his cock is starting to stand at attention 'cuz it knows what's coming next.

"Alright." you replied at last — honestly, giving in wayyy too easily to him — and his eyes lit up, "But don't you tell a god damn soul that we — "

Couldn't even finish your damn sentence, because Suguru crashed his hot lips down on yours with an damn near bruising force.

Your mind broke. He was all over you. Lips and hands and body — I mean, he kissed you like he hadn't kissed a woman in his entire life, shit, no, like he was gonna die if he broke apart from your lips.

Absolutely nothing could have pried his hands off your little waist, and you're sure if even god himself appeared there in that bathroom right then that you wouldn't take your hands off Suguru Fucking Geto.

He's the bad boy that you've always dreamed of, god, like nobody gets you as wet and agonizingly turned on quite like he does. Your walls were already fluttering, clit already buzzing with the grazing of your panties against it, heat rising rising rising.

Exactly as he wanted, his lips were attached to your neck and sucking feverishly at the delicate skin there. He wanted you. No, you don't understand; he wanted more of you than what was humanly possible to take of a person. Total carnage. Man-turned-wolf type shit. Wanted to bite you and sink his fangs in and leave marks that lasted for ever and ever on you. Needed to touch and grab and grope at more than what could physically fit in his big, sinning hands.

You gasp and gulp down air like you've been drowned by his kisses. And when he sucks at your neck like that? Well, sure you're in the bathroom of a greasy little dive bar, but you're grabbing and rubbing at his cock through his black skinny jeans with not an ounce of shame. Who cares if someone walks in? I know, crazy to say that, but truly neither of you could care less right now.

Everything is you. Your perfume is in his lungs and the next thing he needs is your pussy juice coating every inch of his dirty cock. It's no damn secret, jeez, it's a no-brainer; Suguru always wanted to fuck you into a stupid submissive slut, but he never got the chance.

He growls — actually growls against your neck — and it's game over from there. Nope, no escape. Not anymore. You couldn't even if you wanted to — and Suguru knew that. Though your scandalous love affair with him hadn't lasted pretty long, he'd already come to know your body like the back of his hand.

"Suguru!" you whine, look up at him with the neediest little bambi eyes, and he knows instantly what you need... but he's not gonna do it unless he hears you admit it, until he sees your defeated little face admit that you're just a...

****

"Say it, you're a little slut that can't get enough dick."

"I'm a little shlut that c-can't g-g-get enuff dick!! Nn!"

Right up into your tummy, riiight up there, that's the depth he reaches with his nasty nine inches. It's like he's playing tetris with your guts. Not a single thought is behind your eyes, there's just a blissed-out glow on your sweaty face... curtesy of the bad boy behind you.

He never gets enough of it, never gets deeper — he's plunging it inside you like it's what he was born to do god dammit, holding you like he's gonna drag you down to the underworld, like you're his Persephone and he's your Hades. An animalistic heat rippling all over his body, Suguru lets out the lowest, horniest grunts while fucking into your tinier body with everything he's got.

"More more more!" you choke out, not even able to keep your voice in. It's fine, the bar music is so loud it's almost like being at a club... totally drowning out yours and Suguru's slutty moans.

"Good fucking girl, begging for more. Love it when you're this nasty... baby, why'd you ever run away from me?"

"'Cuz... 'c-cuz you were a lying, cheating, asshole~! Mm!"

"Oh yeah?"

He grins a wolfy grin, drags out the thickest part of his cock through your tight ring of muscle, and slams it back in with one shwoop. Base to tip. Stretched and stuffed like a dolly. Fuck. That thrust really just deleted every logical thought in your head. No more questioning if this is right or wrong, nor worrying about the consequences; you needed him in you like a bitch needs water in the desert.

Suguru's needy hands snake up your waist and grope fistfuls of your tender breasts, massaging at them like he was trying to communicate that they belonged to him — possessive. You would never have guessed an Aquarian like him was as possessive as a Scorpio. Uh, maybe it's in his rising or moon that makes him act this way? Who knows.

"Rude little slut," he laughs, holding his twitching cock still inside you and pressing your pretty face up against the cool surface of the bathroom stall's door. "Lets see you walk out of here with your makeup all smudged and hair looking like you just got your brains fucked out of your head. I'm sure your little boyfriend at the bar would love to see that, wouldn't he?"

"He's not my boyfriend!" you splutter, pussy feeling absolutely choked by his cock.

"Then I'll make sure he never will be."

"Ooh, Suguruuu~!" you smile, cheek smushed against the door, feeling him withdraw and start back up his wrestling match with your guts. "Fuck me, I love you!"

His heart nearly beat right out of his chest.

"Aw, do you? Aren't you so sweet." he croons, "Gonna be nicer to me this time and let me fill you up?"

"Mhm! Yes yes yes! Do it, I wanna feel it all inside me!" you squeal, delirious from the way he was fucking you.

"Shit... your pussy is crazy. She's trying to keep me inside, look at that." He laughs, trying to sliding himself out of your tight little hole and almost failing because sheesh... she just wanted to suck him right in and up to her cervix.

Suguru fucks you like an animal, yes, but something changed after you blurted out that little 'I love you'. Sooo... now he's driving into you like he's trying to fuck a thousand more 'I love yous" out of your pretty mouth.

Grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look at him as he ruins you for every other man, Suguru grunts and groans against your skin.

"I'm so close..." his voice strains, "Take all of me, baby, take everything I'm gonna fucking give you, yeah? Milk every fucking drop out of that cock you love so much."

"Yesyesyes!! I-if you cum I'm gonna cum too, please!" you cry out, totally lost, totally seeing stars and totally — squirting?!

Oh shit, you are. Heh. Well... um... seems like it's not just you who's gonna leave the bar looking like a drenched mess. The front of Suguru's skinny jeans got literally soaked.

And you were somewhere in lalaland, feeling his cock snuggled up against your cervix and stretching out your walls which would remember the shape of this nasty boy.

Palm rubbing sloppily at your clit, inching closer and closer with Suguru towards climax, then suddenly the bomb hits and you're convulsing on his cock, hardly seeing straight and seeing flickering stars in your vision.

Shit. He might have actually fallen in love. Ah, fuck. That's not good. That's really not good.

"Babyyy... you're so messy..." he strains, voice all hoarse.

It's impossible not to cum while your pussy is strangling his cock like that. He's shooting ribbons of gooey white and also seeing white in his vision, poor boy. He's never had an orgasm wipe him out quite as much as this one — with the sweet and slutty girl of his dreams.

"Ah, fuck..."

"Ugh..."

The two of you cum down from the high, still lost in each other, sweaty and melted together.

It's a goopy mess dripping down your shuddering inner thigh after he withdraws.

He doesn't even know what to say. He's speechless. Pussy got him clueless on the English language. I mean, what was the use? You probably heard all his emotions in his voice right when he came inside you, didn't you?

Suguru gasps with you, heart beating like drums in his ribcage. His eyeliner is hanging down his eyes like a gothic shadow. Black nails chipped. Wolfcut ruined and flattened. Chain belt slid off his jeans and fell to the floor at some point but he doesn't know which.

Fuck. He's in love. Fuckfuckfuck. What to do about it? Love you? No way, not with the messy lover he can be. And anyways, you hated his guts. Right? Awful. How you hate his guts and he loves being tangled up in yours.

"Bunny,"

"Don't call me that!" you snap, still steadying your breath and finding balance on earth after that nerve-fraying orgasm.

His lips twist into a smile.

Ah, shit, she hates you so much, Suguru. Just listen to the hurt in her voice. You really shoulda treated her better back then, never lied, never snuck around, and maybe she would have even been your girlfriend by now.

The deed's done. You're scurrying to get dressed. Vacant bathroom? Uh, yeah, dummy, people heard that occupied stall from a mile away and made a full 180 to leave before even entering.

Suguru bounces out and washes up at the sink, slicking water through his slightly greasy hair, checking himself out before turning his attention back to you in that calculated manner of his.

"So, I'll text you?"

"I won't respond."

"Mm, yes you will."

"No I won't." You say firmly.

He pauses for a moment, makes a face, then comes over to you and plants a hard slap on your ass, giving a glance to your lips like they're his favorite desert.

"Now, baby, don't be like that; you know it turns me on when you play hard to get."

"Sugu..." you whine defeatedly, looking up into his big black I'm-gonna-ruin-your-life eyes.

"See you around, bunny." he cooed, quick kiss your cheek, then made a French exit.

"Sugu!! You bastard!!" you yelled after him, "You can't get everything you want, asshole!!"

He bounced out, grinning back at you — ooh, that fangy smile.

"Yes I caaan~" he sang, right before disappearing.

Scoffing with a smile, you stood there with a hardcore heartbeat just thinking about what happened.

Ugh, bad boys. They fuck 'n go like the pussy's a drive-thru, huh? Aren't they just the worst?

Um, anyways.

You unblocked him from your contacts. Again. For the fourth time.

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙ㅤ★

@candy-s72 💗 @paintedperidot 💗 @saltwaterships 💗 @edensrose 💗 @miseryyouth-99

1K notes · View notes

cheolinn · 8 days ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭…

Sugar Daddy!Enji who meets you, a cute and broke low ranked hero that no one knows and offers you to ride his cock for a good few thousand dollars so now you’re suddenly the top 100 hero who doesn’t even do her job as a hero but be good and pretty for Endeavour

Sugar Daddy!Enji who goes absolutely feral when you scream ‘daddy’ and pounds twice as hard as he was into you that you can’t even walk without whining about your poor legs the next day

Sugar Daddy!Enji who sends you 50 thousand dollars every month and you just have to suck him off nicely and cockwarm him for another 20 thousand <33

Sugar Daddy!Enji who patiently listens to you rambling about the Louis Vuitton bag you saw your rich friends carrying and you need to have it to ‘fit in’ but you’re babbling about how his thick cock can’t even fit inside your tight little pussy the next minute

Sugar Daddy!Enji who rips off your newly bought Christian Dior dress in the car when you were teasing him all night at the stupid hero gala and he has to buy it once again but if it means having your warm cunt milking him dry, he’ll do it over and over again

Sugar Daddy!Enji who expects you to be waiting on your big expensive bed he bought for you in your big expensive condominium he bought for you for his big fat cock every single night

Sugar Daddy!Enji who threatens to cut your monthly pocket money if you don’t let him make you cum once more when it’s been 3 hours since you’ve been going at it and you stopped counting when you reached your 12th orgasm

Sugar Daddy!Enji who fucks you so good in the unlocked bathroom with his kids outside just because you were looking at his hot sons a little too much to his liking

4K notes · View notes

cheolinn · 8 days ago

Text

Baby Fever: Caleb LADS

Synopsis: Caleb sees you holding a baby and suddenly realizes how much he NEEDS to see a mini-you.

Warnings: Breeding, Baby Fever, Mentions of Pregnancy, Public Smex, Use of ‘Gege’, Size Difference, Sort of Dub-con for half a second.

Caleb always knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. That was a given. But the thought of kids didn’t really fancy him that much, after all, he was so selfish.

Wanting you all to himself at all times.

But today, something had snapped. It was all because of the Farspace Fleet Annual Dinner. He had brought you in like a pretty thing on his arm. Families young and old from his subordinates had gathered in the ballroom.

He had went to fetch you drinks and when he returned, you had a gurgling little boy in your arms. All wide-eyed and chubby fingers grasping at strands of your hair.

He had been uncharacteristically quiet the rest of the evening. “Caleb, are you alright?” You whisper to him as you find your seat at the table.

He clears his throat and tries to force a reassuring smile. “Yeah Pips, of course.”

He was absolutely NOT fine.

You had just meant to grab your jackets from the coat closet before leaving. But somehow that resulted in it being locked behind you with Caleb so fucking deep in your guts you couldn’t breathe.

He hadn’t even bothered to pull the pants of his uniform down all the way. He tucked the band of his boxers right under his tight balls, slipped your panties to the side and fucked you in the extremely small closet.

“C-Cal-mmhh! F-fuck!” You gasped into his ear. The little prep work he had done made the stretch burn so much more deliciously. His Colonel Cap slipped down to shadow his eyes as he growled against your pulse point.

“Oh no Pipsqueak. You knew exactlyyyy what you were doin’. Holding that baby, bein’ all fuckin’-ngh-motherly.”

Your breath caught in your throat, you weren’t sure if it was from the way he was pulverizing your guts or from his words. “I just-b-baby was cute. Ah…~”

Your words cut off by his thumb rubbing tight circles around your sticky little clit. He chuckled in your ear, palm pressed firmly against your tummy where he was so deeeep inside of you.

“Uh huh, sure. Doesn’t matter,” his teeth are nipping at your throat as his shoulders knock dozens of coats into the floor. “-our baby is gonna be 10 times cuter.”

Your hands scramble to find any purchase on his shoulders. His breath is hot and heavy against the crook of your shoulder. “S’-too much Caleb! I-I can’t-not on the pill!” You try and muffle your moan against his uniform.

Caleb just chuckles at that, his swollen cock-head leaving wet kisses against your cervix. “S’ like you wanted me to leave a baby in here Pips. All swollen, achin’ for me huh?”

His thrust grow erratic, your cries building to a crescendo in the Ballroom coat closet. “Caleb I’m gonna-…out! Ngh, pull out!” It’s a half-hearted request really. You KNEW Caleb would be a good dad, would take care of you and a little one with no problem. Caleb clicked his tongue disapprovingly and simply pressed your face against the wall, before wrapping his arms around your waist.

Even though he could’ve easily lifted you with his Evol, it was strong, battle worn arms that held you up so your cute kitten heels were dangling helplessly. He used you like that dumbass pocket-pussy he bought back in his academy days.

Your cunt kinda sounded like it too. All gooey n’ wet n’ all fucked out.

“Yeah, yeah tell me again you don’t want my kid in your belly. Go on Pips. Tell me to stop, and I will.” He’s slamming you up and down his cock to the point you can’t even see straight.

“I-I want it!” You finally admit, walls clenching around his length like it was trying to milk him dry. “Want your babies, w-want you to fill me up-ahhh!”

The little bit of restraint Caleb had, shattered. He’s murmuring absolute filth into your ear as he feels you cum around his throbbing cock.

“Yeahhh, that’s it Pips. Gonna carry Gege’s baby? Gonna have ya all round n’ full of me. Gonna feel soooo nice and tight around me after I pump ya full of my kid. F-fuck I love ya-ngh!” He buries his face into your neck with sloppy kisses as his swollen balls tense up and pump load after load into your quivering pussy.

You don’t trust yourself to walk, and neither does Caleb when your feet touch the ground again. He’s giving you smooch after smooch as he pulls back up your panties, but not before giving your sloppy pussy a few pats for a job well-done over soaked panties.

But damn, poor Gideon only wanted his suit jacket and got free trauma for life!

3K notes · View notes

cheolinn · 8 days ago

Text

I ALWAYS FEEL LIKE SOMEBODY’S WATCHING ME !!

CHARACTER: ghost!toji x haunted!reader SUMMARY: You’ve been having some trouble lately after going camping with your friends—waking up with your body sore and love juices coating your thighs. Your friends think you’ve picked something up from the trip, but you’ve insistently doubted them. Until one night, you’re forced to take their words right. WORD COUNT: 3.5k CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+, dark content, monster fucking, teratophilia, slight exhibitionism, slight somnophilia, lowkey ntr (??), swearing, manhandling, tentacles 😵‍💫, size difference, tummy bulges, degradation, dirty talk, dub-con, paranormal haunting, overstimulation, fingering A/N: high key self-indulgent 🙏🙏😔 I’m feeling freaked tf out with monsterfucking lately so I know I HADDD to write this ne way drop in my inbox which character I should do next (I’m thinking of mha characters) 🤤

There. You thought to yourself, panic rolling in your chest like blaring alarms. There it is!

You were lying in your bed, feigning sleep with your eyes shut tight as the hair on your body stirred, goosebumps poking through your arms in an electrical wave. The last time you checked your phone, the time read 2:30 am and you had been resisting the tantalising lure of slumber eating at your languor. Sleep will not claim you tonight, you swore. You were determined to figure out the truth haunting your life.

It all started 3 months ago, when you and your friend group decided to spend a night camping near the mountains closest to you. It was meant as a mini treat after your midterms. After all, it sounded awful fun back then when you imagined yourself drinking and chatting away in the sunset, the cool breeze and tepid air cozily brushing past your skin, and best of all—secretly fucking your boyfriend in the woods. Open, kinky, and perverted; no one would be there if you found a carefully hidden spot, so the risk of being caught was damn near zero.

Or so you thought.

You were stupid. And young. And reckless. So with the licentious vigour of a typical college student, you managed to get yourself drunk enough to wander into the forest near your camping site, dragging your equally prurient then-boyfriend with you. The leaves overhead had veiled off most of the moonbeam, barely sparing any light to succour your visions. The mountain was awfully quiet as well, the usually tenacious droning of the cicadas muted to an anomalous silence.

It was salient enough in the air that you shouldn’t continue with your petty endeavour of having outdoor sex. You should’ve stopped in your tracks and walked your ass back to your group—that is if you were not possessed by the uncouth brashness of alcohol. Truth to be told, you were not benighted to the creeping dubiety in your steps, nor the sinking trepidation marking your tummy. But again, your unruly persistence decided to say fuck it and stomp on all perturbative build-up. This was a chance to tick your teenage fantasy off your smutty bucket list—you couldn’t disappoint younger you. So, outdoor sex it is!

Since then, it was as if something had followed you and your group home. The others had fallen sick, your boyfriend claimed to be bedevilled by a shadow prowling in his peripheral vision. It manifests into something ominous when he sleeps, snaffling his sanity night by night—though you were doubting his condition for something like sleep paralysis.

And you? You were an omission in these so-called hauntings. No sickness. No sleep paralysis. Just plain old you, safe and sound. Though, that was before it swivelled its attention onto you.

2 weeks ago, your boyfriend decided to break up with you. Unprompted. Over the phone with a notable tremble in the cadence of his voice. It struck you as weird. It was only 3 days after your last date and he seemed normal—if you decided to shrug off the heavy eye-bags settling like pounded bruises under his weary eyes; or the ghastly shadow of his sunken cheeks. He almost didn’t look like himself, and you urged him to visit a doctor over his sleep condition which evidently was perturbing his life.

Maybe he was just stressed. So, you figured you’d give him some time to recollect himself. A break if you will. Then you’d go back to dating, just like the good old days.

But that was before you realised that thing had latched onto you. It was now your turn to go through the affliction of your consequences.

It started with the rattling discomfort of paranoia. You couldn’t seem to shake off the feeling of being watched no matter the mantras of ‘you’re just delusional’ you muttered to yourself. And when things go still and you expect nothing but silence in your home—you could faintly hear spine-chilling breaths that didn’t belong to you. It wasn’t you, not the TV, nor some creep hiding in your room (after thoroughly checking). There was something breathing next to you. Something invisible. Unseen.

You tried to chalk it off as a hallucination. Maybe your ex’s wariness rubbed off on you—mass hysteria or some bullshit. So you drown your room with the incessant shuffle of your Spotify playlist and let your shows play on your iPad as you sleep.

Then, you began waking up with sore bodies in the morning, love juices dampening your sheets and making your thighs stick, and some kind of mark—no, hickies littered over your figure.

You were going crazy. Maybe—just maybe, you’ve been sleepwalking? It’s stupid, but you’re trying to make sense of things. Sore bodies? Maybe you’ve been…unconsciously working out! The sticky juices between your thighs? You could be touching yourself in your sleep. After all, you’ve been having wet dreams almost every night. Perhaps the toll of having no boyfriends to satisfy your needs is subconsciously hitting you.

What about the hickies?

You don’t let yourself dwell on that. You’d spiral into a madwoman, you were sure. But every day of waking up and ignoring the new mark appearing on your body was enough to make you go insane. It’s to the point where your friends were teasing you with the love bites on your jaw and neck—but you’ve never slept with anyone other than your ex, and the last time you did it was well over a week ago.

“You’re going crazy with your new man, huh?” one of them chaffed. You only pressed your lips and kept your silence. But she was right about one thing though, you were going crazy.

So here you were, your body stiff with fear as you feel the sheets blanketing your body being peeled off of you, the cold air pumped by the AC hit your bare skin—reminding you that this was real. It’s happening. You’re not imagining it.

Your mind began racing, thoughts coiling in your head in myriad spirals. Is it a burglar? How did they even enter your room in the first place? You swore you heard no windows breaking or doors clicking. Should you shove them off and run out the room with your phone, then call the cops?

Your eyes gingerly peeled open—you were wrong. Whatever that is…it’s no burglar, nor human.

“You finally opened those pretty eyes now, huh?” his voice was deep and throaty; you could feel the resonance in his chest as he hovered over you, his face mere inches away from yours. You couldn’t move, your body stuck to the bed as if an inordinate pressure was pressing down on your helpless form. Still, you could drink in his visage through your eyes, the moonlight pouring in from your window brushing faint illuminance upon his features and succouring your sight.

His face was cast sombre by shadows, curled lips marked with a conspicuous scar gashing through, and an inky haze seemed to steam off of his body like smoke before a fire—black tentacles spawning from his back and licking the air where his darkness besmirched. Jade green sharply glinted from his orbs, saturated with a predatory lust as he leered into your eyes.

Terror sank its icy claws into your spine, paralysing your nerves as your eyes began to well up from fear. You’re gonna die! You’re gonna fucking die, your friends were right about you bringing something back. You should’ve listened to them and visited a shrine long before. Now, the thing’s gonna kill you! God, you’re too young to die—

“Hmm, fear’s sweet on ya. Makes me want to eat ya up,” you squealed at his words, squeezing your eyes shut in response when his hands rose. You were expecting his dreadful, monstrous hand to wrap around your neck, choking you until your cheeks turn blue, and later feasting on your corpse. But then, he began palming your chest, squeezing your flesh, and riding your flimsy top up until you were bare at your tits.

Your thoughts stilled, and adrenaline came to an abrupt halt from pure shock. “Eh. A-Ah! Wait!” you gasped in staggering disbelief. But he doesn’t listen, and continues his ghostly touches—sinking his fingers into your plump tits and moulding them like dough.

Your cheeks were flushed florid, your eyes following his gaze to where your soft breasts spilled between his thick, ashen fingers. He licked his thin lips with a long, pink tongue. The spot between your thighs began to tingle and you could do nothing but feel your buds harden against his rough palms.

No…this wasn’t supposed to happen! You should be bleeding out on your bed by now, mauled by this creature—not clench your thighs and arch your back when his icy, calloused fingers rubbed your nipples. You’re getting molested by a ghost and you’re…turned on?!

His knee sank into the mattress, right between your thighs—the bed creaking beneath his weight. His tensed thigh pressed against your heat, rubbing against your tingling core through the thin fabric of your shorts. “It ain’t just fear I smell. Ya get off of monsters, huh? Bet ‘cha human pussy’s drippin’ for somethin’ to grip.”

He’s chuckling, teasing the way your wet core squelches against his beefy, hard thigh. The lubricated pressure rolling around your puffy clit until your eyebrows knitted at the balling tingles of your nerves. You’re already holding back mewls like a touch-starved kitten, you just can’t help it. It feels so good…

“Fuckin’ hell. She’s squelching like she’s singin’ to be stuffed, eh?” one of his hands lifted from your chest, and a tentacle from his back stretched for your now-bare tits. It wrapped its wet, velvety flesh around your nipples, tightening and teasing the tip of your nub until you’ve hardened and pitifully huffing in sensitivity. At the same time, he’s pressing two cold digits against your juice-sullied shorts, easing in until your pussy lips are almost wrapping around his fingers through the fabrics. “Practically beggin’,” he hissed like the heat between your thighs scorched.

You’re gasping through your choked moans, saliva thick with desire. All previous demur left in your bones benighted by the lust seeping into your system, whetted by his touches and sex appeal. Your teeth sank into your lower lip—god, you’re fucked.

Once again, his tentacles acted like his little helpers; slipping your shorts and underwear off of you and spreading your legs wider by your ankles, making the air-conditioned chills brush against your bare, slick core. “Reckon you taste as good as ya smell,” his canines were like ivory bones as he smirked, glinting when his saliva-coated tongue licked his teeth as if he were a ravenous serpent. “Fuckin’ tease of a pussy.”

His thick fingers dipped into your warm cavern, the mere size of his digits stretching you to the point where it burned. Another sloppy tentacle twirled around your painfully throbbing clit, devoted to sucking and rubbing the bundle of nerves like its meal. Your eyes squeezed tight to the point where tears were wetting your lashes, breath unsteady with the frisson of orgasm teasing your poor nerves. “Nngh! God, s-stop rubbing me there!”

His fingers curled over your spongey spot, coaxing the brimming bucket of pleasure to spill while his tentacles continued their onslaught of flickering and rolling on your sensitive clit. The lewd sound of sloppy squelches rang in your ears like taunts; you’re moaning like a madwoman from the ghost who haunted your ex!

It was as if he could sense the pang of chagrin curling through your mind, a gnarly smirk licked across his lips before his pace fastened and your cunt squeezed to that familiar wave. Your back arched, knees wobbling in the air as your muscles fought against his paralysis restrictions. “I’m gonna cum, m’gonna cum! M’gonna—”

Your words pathetically spilled into incoherence at the end of your sentence, a strong orgasm forcing through your core, and your eyes lolled to the back of your head like an instinctive reaction. Your walls settled numb from the mere intensity, your chest rising up and down like aggressive waves. You’ve rarely ever cummed this hard from your ex’s cock—but this being had you creaming with just his fingers?

Slowly peeling your worn eyes open, he’s licking your slick off his digits with a hybrid of a growl and a hum; eyes shut and Adam’s apple bobbing as if he’s savouring honey. “Fuck…sluts like ya always taste the goddamn best,” your ears tinged red at his words, gulping before you let your gaze fall to the rest of his figure.

You had to admit; he was a hulking mass of muscles and darkness. Every part of his body was big, with mauve veins poking through his taut, dull skin and fuck was he sexy. Well, at least for a ghost. Your eyes lowered again. The dusky mist that followed like his shadow permeated around his pelvis, ensnaring any light that came close into its starving abyss, blocking the part where you silently anticipated the most.

“Like wha’cha seein’? Perverted lil girl. Fuckin’ in my territory with yer lil friend,” there’s a baleful hiss in his tone. Your eyes widened, face burning in a different degree—so you were right. You really brought this ghost home from the camping trip. “Saw the way y'all moanin’ and humpin’ like freaks. The kid can’t even dick ya down for 5 minutes—heh.”

You’re staring at him, sweat tracing down your cheeks; embarrassment flaring under your skin like fanned blazes. His head cocked to the side, onyx hair falling on his face as his lips stretched into a smirk, revealing the sharp lines of teeth winking dangerously at you.

“Hadda chase him off first, y’know? Scared him a few nights and he’s pissin’ his fuckin’ bed,” his laughter bellowed through his chest as his eyes curled. There was no doubt he wasn’t a monster, he was chuffed at the mere reminiscence of terrorising your ex—the way he begged for mercy, his screams tearing through the night and the mephitic smell of fear was like the whiff of paradise to the infernal being. “His scent on ya? Disgusting. Don’t want my meal soiled.”

“But…why?” you gulped. “I-I get that we disrespected the spirits or the beings there, and I’m sorry for that. But why are you doing this?”

“Disrespect? Heh. Yer lucky I noticed ya. Could’ve had y'all rottin’ on the ground. You a real cute one, figured yer body’s good enough as payback—a pretty lil plaything,” his hands reached down to his pelvis, and your eyes nearly sprang out of your sockets when the opaque mist unfurled to reveal the sheer size of his ashen, dark-veiny cock.

Pre-cum was already oozing all over his angry, purplish-red tip—throbbing for the heat right between your thighs. You swallowed thickly, the hungry flutters of your wet walls were screaming for some time to be filled with, your chest tingly with nerves; but you weren’t sure if that thing was going to fit. His cock was nearly the size of your forearm…

“Scared?” you could hear the smirk through his gruff voice. The bed frame creaked as he shifted, cold large hands slipping behind your thighs, lifting your legs until they hit the back of your knees. His body pressed forward, the mattress sinking deeper underneath both of your weights. “I could smell your frustration that night. You ain’t satisfied with that boy,” his face was mere inches away from yours, sucking in the heat of embarrassment you radiated and returning nothing but chills. “Poor lil dollie. Yer saviour Toji’s here to show ya what a real fuck’s like,” he’s taunting you like he’s playing with his food, laughing at the way your face tensed and eyebrows furrowed like it’s something worth his amusement.

You could feel those familiar tentacles slipping across your skin, spreading your dripping wet pussy lips apart. You watched him line his heavy cock against your hole, a mixture of anticipation and fear curling in your chest.

“Here marks your first taste as a monster’s cum dump—” your walls instinctively clenched onto him when he entered, the foreign size of his cock spamming shock over your nerves as you groaned. He’s so big. So, fucking, big. Tears are warming behind your orbs, your pitched cries huffing out of your tight throat as you struggle to steady yourself.

“M’too full….” you softly whimpered, heat spreading over your cheeks when he chuckled.

“A big jump? Bet yer used to that lil boy cock. Poor, poor doll,” you moan again when he slightly rolls his hips, your insides adjusting to the marginal shift of his meat. “Spent nights prepping her up so she could take this monster cock.”

His cold hands gripped onto your hips before pushing the whole weight of his body against yours—forcing his length into your cunt to the hilt. Your eyes rolled, feeling the mushroom tip of his rubbing against the base of your brain from how deep he was. His hips drew back, before slamming back into your hot, tight pussy. A spark crackled through your spine when his cockhead kissed your cervix, pressing deep until you could feel him in your womb.

Your jaw dropped with the sensation, your nerves pumped in shy sensitivity and your muscle fibres thrashed beneath his spiritual oppression. You’ve never once felt something like this—never with your exes or toys. He’s touching the spots you’d never thought to reach with his monstrous dick, stimulating them until you’re nearly insane. “Aww don’t be shy,” Toji purred, a hand gripping your chin and tugging your face downwards. “Look at whose dick you’re clenching onto like a thirsty lil bitch,” there’s a noticeable bulge at your lower belly when your eyes lowered. And his cold veiny hand pressed into your tummy just as his hips thrusted.

“S-Shiiit—“ your moan dragged into a cry, your eyes rolling in surrender as the burn subsided into flames of pleasure.

“Look at her,” his fingers pressed into your cheeks in an attempt to make you listen. “She doesn’t seem to wanna—haah—let me go,” he hissed, teeth clenching at the way your cunt was sucking him in; to the point where it almost hurt. He let a tentacle curl around your hard clit, earning some stuttering whimpers out of your plump lips. “Such a perfect little thing, aren’t ya?”

His neck dipped to kiss you, feeling the vibration of your moans on his tongue and drinking in your sweet saliva with a satisfied groan. You could feel every throbbing vein of his through your hot walls, skin shuddering and teeth biting his lip at the way his strokes constantly hit the perfect spots.

You could taste the ferrous taste of his blood in your mouth as you sucked on his lip. Toji pulled his face back, your heavy-lidded eyes peered into his, and caught the chilly emerald glare of his. “Now she’s learnt to bite?”

His hands grabbed the back of your knees before pressing them down to your chest. His pace was brutal, his hips slamming as if to split you apart with his cock. Another tentacle reached for your poor, overstimulated clit; two others wrapped around your perky nipples—your nubs rubbed and abused by his sloppy wet things.

“N-No! S’too much, please, please! Stop!” you were seeing whites with your senses overwhelmed, throat raw from screaming, and pussy clenching tighter from the stimulations.

“Do I have to, fuck—teach you to know your place?” your eyes were rolled to the back, drool slipping down your kiss-plumped lips from the way his hard shaft was stretching your fluttering walls. “As my human fuck toy.”

“Haa—oh! I-I’m shorryyy! It’s sho good m’dyinnn—!” your brain was nothing but mush, the dirty sound of his heavy balls slapping against your ass and the sloppy squelches of your cunny rang in your ears while you’re slipping in and out of consciousness. There was nothing grounding you to reality, the sheer pleasure of being fucked senseless by the giant male pressing you down drowning all thoughts. You didn’t care if the whole neighbourhood or city could hear your slutty brainless moans—all you cared about was the taste of the ghost cock pistoning in and out of your sobbing cunny.

“Aw yeah?” Toji hissed, the bed frame slamming against the wall so hard that you’re sure it’d break. “If it means I get to fuck this good lil pussy forever—“

“Oh my god! Nnngh—m’gonna cum! I can’t—m’gonna cuuuum!” your pussy was clamping down on him like he’s your lifeline. Your juices squirted all over his pelvis, wetting the sheets as you’re barely breathing. Your body trembled, the overwhelming orgasm coursing through your nerves like fire—your pussy walls pulsing and dripping.

“Fuckin’ hell. Ya still there?” his deep voice echoed through your blank head, bouncing endlessly across the walls of your mind. “Helloooo?” his fingers sank into your flesh, tightening his hold before he slammed his still-hard cock hard into your cunt. The lewd squelch of sex jolted your body awake, forcing you to wearily blink clear.

“No more…p-please—nngh!” you sniffled, barely recovered from the mere intensity of your last orgasm; all blurry vision and sore body.

Toji sneered, brushing his cold lips against your tender ear. “Playthings don’t get to choose, do they?”

609 notes · View notes