n3rdyslvt

[n3rdyslvt]

its so goodddd i love it (so much praise 😌) now i have to read 10+ obsessive fics to scratch the itch

We'll Be Fine

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 1: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡

𝐒𝐚𝐣𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐮𝐦𝐢'𝐬 𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒆𝒏. 𝑭𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏. 𝑺𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒓—𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓—𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒖𝒏 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒓. 𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒗𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒔. 𝑨 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅. 𝑨 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓. 𝑭𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝑨𝒍𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍. 𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝑶𝒎𝒆𝒈𝒂 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒖𝒓𝒗𝒊𝒗𝒆. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆�� 𝒅𝒊𝒅. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆—𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚’𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒈𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒚𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒄𝒔, 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆𝒔, 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑, 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒐𝒃𝒔𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒖𝒎𝒂, 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒚, 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 (18+).

w/c: 5.3k+ not proof read

comments and reblogs would be appreciated!

Jinu walked alone, his breath misting in the cold night air, each step echoing against the empty street. His heart still raced from the confrontation with Huntrix, a cold dread settling in his bones. 

Rumi was half demon.

And worse—she was a hunter.

The air split open without sound, reality bending like molten glass. Heat surged behind him, and in the next blink, Jinu was no longer in the city—but underground. The earth trembled beneath his feet, and the walls of black stone glowed faintly with veins of magma. At the heart of it all roared a massive inferno—no shape, no face, just a swirling mass of fire with a voice that burned into his bones.

Gwi-ma.

His presence wasn’t seen—it was felt. A scorching pressure that weighed on the soul. The flames pulsed once, and the voice came like a low rumble from the pit of the earth itself.

“One of the Hunters bears my mark, but I have no control over her.”

“But the other one…” Gwi-ma’s grin was felt more than seen. “I can reach her… through the mind. She’s the hunters sister.”

Jinu stiffened.

A sudden gust of heat lashed across Jinu’s skin, searing without burning.

“She hears me. She feels me. My voice lingers in her mind. She may be caged now, but if she stands with us…” The fire rose higher, devouring the shadows. “Humans will fall more easily when she is by my side. By yours.”

Jinu staggered as a vision poured into his mind, uninvited and consuming.

Jinu’s breath hitched.

And there she was.

The girl.

She was curled into herself on the floor of what looked like a stone chamber—arms wrapped around her knees, hair hanging loose and wild. A thick metal collar circled her throat, and a single iron chain rattled softly whenever she shifted. She didn’t cry. She didn’t speak. But her chest rose and fell too fast. Her body was trembling with exhaustion, or maybe frustration, or maybe something else she didn’t understand.

The instant his eyes locked on her, something snapped inside him. A throb pulsed in his chest, radiating outward, curling through his bones and down into that ancient place where instinct lived. Where hunger lived. Where she now lived.

He didn’t notice his claws sliding out until they scraped against his thigh, his body vibrating with the sudden flare of need. His scent shifted—hot, sharp, laced with dominance. He tried to breathe through it, but the air was thick, his lungs straining under the weight of a bond that hadn’t even fully snapped into place.

And then it happened.

A low, guttural sound bloomed in his throat, uninvited and uncontrollable. A purr. Deep and primal, meant only for a bonded Omega.

Jinu bit it back with a harsh swallow, jaw locking tight as he forced the sound down. 

Not here. Not in front of him.

He curled his fingers into fists, nails biting into his palms as he stared at her image. Her. His lungs burned. His inner Alpha roared. Something about her was off in a way that made his bones hum. Like a magnetic pull just beneath the surface of his skin. He couldn’t name it. He didn’t want to. But he felt it.

And that was dangerous.

The vision flickered—closer now. Her head turned, just enough to catch the light. She was beautiful, but not the kind of beauty meant for this world. Her lips were dry, parted just slightly. Her lashes low. Her expression was dazed. Worn.

Vulnerable.

Too vulnerable.

Jinu swallowed hard.

“Find her,” the demon whispered, voice fading back into the flames. “See what she becomes… when she’s no longer bound.”

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────

The scent of sweat, cedar, and something darker curled in the air of their penthouse. The boys were scattered across the space—shirts clinging to their skin after training, damp hair falling into their eyes, muscles tense and restless like they were waiting for something they couldn’t name.

Jinu stood by the window, arms crossed, eyes distant as dusk filtered in through the curtains. The burn in his chest hadn’t left since the vision. Since her.

“Are you gonna say it,” Abby muttered, wiping his neck with a towel, “or will you keep standing there like a statue?”

Romance looked up from where he sprawled on the couch, an eyebrow raised. “Something’s been crawling under your skin since last night.”

Jinu’s jaw worked, a flicker of gold flashing through his irises when he turned to face them. “There’s another demon.”

Mystery stilled. Romance’s brows furrowed. Baby, lying upside down on the couch, blinked slowly.

“Another hunter?” Romance asked.

Jinu shook his head. “Not exactly.”

He let the silence stretch before speaking again—lower this time, chest vibrating faintly with the weight of it. “She’s not a hunter. But she’s blood-related to one.”

“To Rumi?” Baby sat upright.

“She has a sister,” Jinu confirmed. “Half-demon. Half-human.”

Abby stood from where he’d been crouched by the fireplace, voice clipped. “Why haven’t we heard of her before?”

“Because she’s been hidden.” Jinu’s voice cracked now. “Locked away.”

Romance’s head tilted, expression darkening. “By who?”

Jinu’s gaze dropped. “Celine.”

The word hit the air like a whipcrack.

“You mean their aunt?” Abby asked, stepping closer.

Romance cursed low under his breath.

“She was just a kid when it started,” Jinu continued, barely able to keep the gravel out of his voice. “Their aunt couldn’t control her powers. Couldn’t ‘purify’ them like Rumi’s. So she locked her away. Hid her. Bound in a collar with suppressants, runes burned into her skin. They’ve been keeping her out of sight for years.”

“What the fuck?” Baby hissed.

Mystery’s voice came quiet, dangerous. “And the hunter?”

“She doesn’t know,” Jinu cut in. “Celine’s been feeding her lies. Said the girl was born tainted. Said she didn’t survive the ritual. Rumi thinks she died years ago.”

Baby looked stunned. “And all this time…”

“She’s been hidden.” Jinu’s tone trembled now. “Isolated. Shackled. Buried underground like she’s a sin.”

Romance rubbed a hand over his face. “How do you know all this?”

Jinu hesitated. “Gwi-ma showed her to me. A vision.”

Mystery spoke, quiet but firm. “What did you feel?”

Jinu looked away.

That was answer enough.

Abby stepped forward, voice low. “You felt her.”

“I felt her,” he murmured. “the second I saw her, something inside me moved. Like my Alpha had been waiting his whole damn life just to see her face.” He swallowed hard, eyes darkening. My Alpha almost tore out of me. My claws wouldn’t retract. My body wanted to find her and take her.”

Abby stood slowly, his fists clenched, fury starting to rise in waves off his skin. “She’s been rotting in some prison while we’ve been here?”

“She’s not even bonded,” Jinu growled. “No protection. No one to soothe her instincts. And she’s starting to feel it. I saw the way her body reacted. She doesn’t know what’s happening to her—but she feels us. Feels me”

Abby moved, slow but purposeful, until he was right in front of Jinu. “Where is she?”

“South of Seoul,” Jinu answered. “A cathedral repurposed into a containment site. Not even on maps anymore. Celine's been keeping her there, claiming it’s for purification. But all she’s done is isolate her.”

Abby’s hands clenched into fists. “We’re getting her out. Now.”

“And Rumi?” Mystery asked. “What do we do with her?”

“She’s not the enemy,” Jinu said. “Not yet. She’s under Celine’s control—just like her sister is. But when the truth comes out…”

“She’ll break,” Romance finished.

“We all will,” Jinu whispered. “If we don’t get to her in time.”

For a moment, no one said a word.

Then Abby grabbed his jacket, voice thick. “I don’t care how deep they buried her. Or who stands in the way. If she’s ours, no one gets to keep her caged.”

Jinu was already moving. “We bring her back. Even if we have to burn that place to the fucking ground.”

The place trembled with their energy now. Five Alphas, pulsing with the scent of purpose, of claim, of something old and unshakable.

The bond had begun.

And nothing—not fire, not stone, not even blood—would stop it from completing.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ─────

The cathedral loomed like a corpse in the fog, its stone walls broken and bleeding ivy. Abby and Jinu moved in sync, shadows stretching behind them as they passed beneath the ruined archways, down a dark hall where the air grew heavy. Too heavy. Every step down the forgotten stairs was a fight to breathe.

Something was calling to them.

You were calling to them.

Every stair they descended toward that underground crypt made the pressure worse, made the bond sharper, more suffocating.

And then they saw you.

Curled in the far corner like a broken thing. Your frame folded in on itself, limbs trembling, hair wild and matted against sweat-slicked skin. The faint, sickly light of suppressive runes bathed your body in a sterile glow. An iron collar dug into the tender skin of your throat, chained to the floor like some cursed, forgotten relic. Every twitch you made sent a dull clink of metal echoing through the place—and every flinch made the chains hiss with sparks.

You were whimpering.

Every soft, broken sound that fell from your lips shredded something in both of them.

“Jinu…” Abby’s voice cracked, breaking under the weight of it. “Is that her?”

His heart stopped.

You were devastating.

Even like this—sweat-soaked, skin pale, lip bitten raw from the effort not to scream—you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

The bond snapped tight in his chest like a chain pulled taut.

His eyes glowed gold.

Claws slid out with a low metallic scrape.

Demon marks shimmered to life beneath his skin, slashing across his neck, his jaw, the inside of his arms like flame-kissed ink.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “She’s our mate.”

Another whimper escaped your lips—smaller this time, like you were trying to hold it in. You shifted slightly and the runes flared. Magic lashed over your skin like fire. You sobbed, twisting in pain, body jerking helplessly as the punishment triggered again.

“Shh…don’t move,” Jinu said quickly, voice laced with panic and heat. He pressed a hand against the bars, his body thrumming with the urge to shift and tear through the fucking metal. “You’ll hurt yourself, baby, stop—”

Your head moved. Just a little. Like it took everything in you.

You heard him.

And then—broken, barely a whisper—you spoke.

“…Alpha…”

The word shattered them.

Abby dropped to his knees beside Jinu, his entire body trembling with restraint. “We’re here, little omega,” he rasped, reaching through the bars with clawed hands. “We’ve got you now. We’ve got you.”

You whimpered again, eyes fluttering open for a second. Glassy. Lost. Your body tried to crawl forward—instinct driving you toward the bond. Toward them. But the runes struck like whips the moment you moved. Your body arched, convulsing in pain, before collapsing again like a puppet with cut strings.

“She’s reacting to us,” Jinu growled, voice raw with helpless rage. “She feels the bond. She’s trying to reach us.”

“She can’t,” Abby snarled, jaw clenched, eyes glowing. “These fucking wards—they’re punishing her for even reacting.”

Another sob ripped from your chest. You were trembling all over now—your body knowing what your mind couldn’t. The bond was trying to pull you into their arms, to safety, but it was killing you in the process.

You dragged one knee forward, teeth sinking into your lip to swallow the scream.

The collar flared violently.

Agony lanced through you like lightning, seizing your limbs until you collapsed.

“NO!” Jinu’s voice cracked like a whip through the air, broken and frantic. “Don’t move—don’t, angel, please. It’s hurting you.”

The stone floor was cold against your cheek. You gasped. Again and again. Every breath a jagged knife inside your lungs. Your vision blurred, tears spilling before you realized you were crying.

“I… I can’t…” Your voice cracked. “It hurts…”

You didn’t even know if they could hear you. You didn’t know if you were dreaming.

“You don’t have to come to us,” Abby said softly, voice so deep it vibrated through your bones. One hand pressed flat to the iron, like he could will it out of existence. “We’ll come to you. We’ll tear this fucking place apart if we have to. You hear me?”

Your head gave the smallest nod. Barely.

And then your lips parted again. “Alpha…”

Their breath caught.

“I dreamed about you,” you whispered, like a confession that had been rotting in your chest for years.

The world stopped moving.

“I didn’t know who you were,” you continued, voice shaking. “But I kept hearing voices. Feeling warmth. Smelling things that made my whole body ache. I thought I was going insane.”

Jinu pressed his forehead to the bars like it hurt to be separated from you. “No, angel. You weren’t crazy. You were just waiting. Waiting for us.”

Tears slipped free, hot against your cheeks. “I didn’t know it would hurt like this,”

The pain in your voice was a blade, slicing straight through them.

Jinu’s claws raked deep grooves into the stone beside him. “We need to get her out now. I swear to god, I’ll rip through every fucking wall—”

“I’m figuring out the seal,” Abby growled, eyes burning gold as he scanned the glowing runes. “Just keep her still. If she gets hit again…”

His voice trailed off. He didn’t have to finish it.

Jinu dropped to his knees, his voice turning feral-soft, lowering to a rumble that sank deep under your skin. “Breathe for me, baby. That’s it. Just breathe. Don’t move. Don’t fight it. Let your Alphas come to you now. Let us take care of everything.”

Your lips trembled.

And then… something changed.

The air shifted.

Warmth wrapped around your body—unseen but unmistakable. Jinu’s scent. His pheromones rolled out thick and warm like honey, flooding the space between you, smothering the panic that clawed inside your chest.

Your pulse slowed.

Bit by bit, your muscles loosened. Your body stopped flinching.

The trembles faded.

“That’s it…” Jinu whispered, his voice melting into something reverent. “That’s it, sweet girl. Good omega. That’s my girl.”

His praise washed over you like balm.

You blinked slowly. Your lips parted as you exhaled a shaky breath, surrender threading every corner of your soul. You didn’t have to crawl anymore. Didn’t have to beg or fight.

They were here.

And so you did the only thing your body would allow.

You stopped fighting

The iron bars hissed like they were alive, sparks spitting and screaming as Abby’s claws sank deep into the enchanted metal. Beside him, Jinu’s breath came in ragged bursts, golden eyes slitted, fangs bared, his control fraying at the seams. He was seconds from shifting. Seconds from losing the leash on his alpha instincts. 

The cathedral could burn. Crumble. Cease to exist.

You were behind those bars.

And they were getting you out.

Abby’s muscles flexed with primal purpose, demon marks blazing along his arms like fire etched beneath his skin. With a roar that rattled the bones of the world, he tore through the final seal, claws slashing through the cursed steel like it was paper soaked in ash and sin.

A scream echoed through the underground.

Not yours.

The bars themselves were the ones begging for mercy.

And then—they shattered.

The entire cage exploded inward, twisted steel sent flying, heat and cold colliding in a violent rush. The very air gasped, like it had been holding its breath, waiting to be allowed to touch you again.

It hit your skin like knives. Raw air. Magic-shattered silence. The scent of your Alphas flooding in.

Your lungs jolted, sucking in a broken gasp that tasted like blood and freedom. You didn’t even realize you’d been holding your breath until it escaped in a soft, choked sob.

Jinu was on you in seconds.

He dropped to his knees, hands cupping your face with a gentleness that didn’t match the violence burning in his gold-slit eyes. His chest rumbled with a low, deep purr, instinctive and raw, vibrating straight into your bones.

“Shh, baby. You’re okay. You’re safe,” he whispered, his voice hoarse as he tucked your hair behind your ear, his thumb grazing your cheek like it was the most precious thing he’d ever touched. " Your alpha is here now. We’ve got you. We’ve got you.”

Your lips parted, breath trembling.

“Alpha…”

You reached for Abby, your fingers barely lifting but desperate for warmth. He was already there, crouched beside Jinu, his presence a wall of heat and control barely held in check. His eyes burned. His purrs joined Jinu’s, deeper, rougher, almost protective.

“It hurts,” you choked, tears leaking down your cheeks as the collar shifted and bit into your throat again. You whimpered. Jinu’s purr stuttered. His claws clicked out with a metallic shiver.

“I know, angel,” he rasped, forehead pressing gently to yours, his scent pouring from him now in thick, soothing waves. “I know it does. I’m gonna take it away. I swear to you. Just hold on a little longer.”

His forehead pressed to yours. The vibration in his chest deepened, the purr becoming a steady hum that curled inside you, coaxing you back from the edge.

Abby’s hand wrapped around your ankle. His touch was warm, calloused, the pads of his fingers rubbing slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice thick, hypnotic, laced with an alpha’s promise. “No one will touch you again. Not unless it’s us. Not unless you want it. No one will hurt you, not while we breathe. You're ours now.”

The way he said it didn’t leave room for argument.

Yours.

Yours.

Yours.

Your body trembled beneath the collar and cuffs, the sharp edge of every breath dragging pain across your chest. But their scent wrapped around you, thick and dominant, drowning out the sting. And that sound—those purrs—their purrs—was pulling something deep from inside you. Something instinctual. Something desperate.

You tried to shift toward them. The chain clinked. The collar bit in harder.

You whimpered.

A growl tore from Jinu’s chest. His claws extended again. “Get this shit off her,” he snarled.

Then a voice slithered through the air, mocking and smug.

“Well, isn’t this sweet.”

Abby’s head turned first. Slow. Dangerous.

A man stood at the top step, staff uniform unbuttoned, posture loose with arrogance. He descended like he had all the time in the world, eyes flicking lazily between you and your alphas.

“You’re trespassing,” he said, arms crossed as his gaze dipped toward your chained body. “She’s locked up for a reason, you know. Half-breed trash like her? Better in chains.”

Jinu didn’t blink.

Abby stood, slow and silent, eyes glowing brighter now.

“She’s ours,” he said, voice calm. But it was the kind of calm that came before violence. “Watch your mouth.”

The man scoffed. “She’s pretty. Shame, really. But you two look like the type to want a challenge. Just hope you’re not into damaged goods.”

The world stopped.

Your body froze. Breath caught in your lungs. Even your pain dulled under the pressure of rage pressing down from both sides.

Jinu’s growl rose so low it made your bones vibrate. It didn’t sound human.

“Abby,” he said, voice calm in the most terrifying way. His eyes didn’t leave the man. “Cover her eyes.”

“Gladly.”

You barely had the time to breathe before Abby was behind you, his warmth flooding your back. One large hand slid gently over your eyes, shielding you from the ugliness in the room. His chest curled around you like a wall, solid and burning, his other arm wrapping across your front as if to pull you into his very skin.

His nose brushed against your temple, then down to your jaw, your neck, scenting you in slow, reverent drags. His breath hitched against your skin. “You smell so good omega,” he whispered, voice raw. “So soft… so sweet... fuck.”

His lips grazed your skin again, purring low and deep in his chest—so deep you felt it in your bones, vibrating through your spine. You couldn’t help it. A soft purr bubbled out of your own throat in return, timid and instinctive, like your body knew who it belonged to.

Abby gasped. His head dropped to your shoulder. His eyes rolled back, glowing faintly behind closed lids, as he groaned deep in his chest.

“God, baby,” he growled against your skin, inhaling like he needed your scent to live. “You’re such a good girl. So fucking good for us.”

You sagged back into his arms, the bond between you thrumming so loud it drowned out the world. Abby’s voice was the only thing you heard now, soft and low, his purr a constant lull in your ears.

“Just listen to me,” he whispered again, reverent. “Only me. You’re safe. We’ve got you. No one will ever touch what’s ours again.”

Behind you, Jinu moved.

He rose in one slow, terrifying motion, shoulders squared, fangs bared. His demon marks glowed brighter, licking up his throat, his jaw, the edges of his golden eyes, now slit like a predator's.

“Say that again,” he growled, his voice the sound of death. Cold. Final.

The man blinked. His smirk wavered.

“I said—” He didn’t finish.

One blink.

That was all.

And then Jinu was no longer standing across the room.

He had the man pinned to the far wall with a sickening crack, claws wrapped around his throat like iron. Fangs bared. His expression didn’t change. It was cold. Controlled. Deadly.

“You looked at her like she was an object,” Jinu hissed, every word laced with venom. “You spoke about her like she was trash. You think I’ll let you live?”

The man kicked. Clawed at his wrist. But Jinu didn’t flinch.

“She’s mine. She’s ours. She carries our fucking scent.”

The air thickened with magic—burning, suffocating. The stones behind the man’s head cracked again from the pressure of Jinu’s grip.

“You’re not even worth the energy it would take to rip you apart.”

The man choked, gurgling. “Y-you can’t—”

“Try me.”

Jinu’s claws clenched. There was another sickening crack and the man’s head snapped back with a brutal crunch. The sound echoed.

“You think I won’t end you?” Jinu’s voice turned feral. “Think I won’t devour the soul of a filthy little insect who dared to speak her name like that?”

He leaned in. His purr was a violent rumble now—not comfort, not affection. Rage. Pure and raw.

“I will enjoy this.”

And then you felt it.

The tear of something unseen. The sick pull of a soul being ripped from its shell.

A pulse of dark energy washed over the chamber, primal and terrifying. Jinu’s power surged through the room as he sent the man’s essence straight to Gwi-ma without blinking.

The body crumpled.

Lifeless. Useless. Forgotten.

And just like that… silence returned.

Jinu turned, slowly, eyes still burning gold, but his face softened the second he looked at you. His purr returned—different now. Protective. Possessive. Seductive.

“Mine,” he murmured under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

Abby eased his hand from your eyes, his palm now stroking your cheek, murmuring soft nothings while his other hand stayed curled around your ankle, anchoring you to the present.

“You did so well,” Abby whispered, breath fanning over your temple. “Held on for us like a good girl.”

Jinu crouched in front of you, pupils blown wide, eyes never leaving yours. He reached for the collar, that awful iron still biting into your throat. His jaw ticked. His claws twitched.

“This—” he snarled, “—doesn’t belong on you.”

And with a twist of his wrist, the collar shattered.

It hit the ground with a metallic clang.

The second it was off—

They smelled you.

Not the muted, suppressed version they’d barely clung to in the room’s haze.

No.

The real you.

Both men stilled, their chests heaving as the fragrance of your scent flooded the air. It was warm, rich, and so devastatingly addictive their bodies reacted before their minds caught up.

“Fuck,” Abby choked, a guttural groan pouring from his throat. His arms wrapped around you from behind, possessive and desperate, and his face buried in your neck like he needed to drown in you. “That’s you? That’s what you’ve been hiding from us, little omega?”

Jinu’s lips parted as he leaned in, eyes wide and dazed. He inhaled deeply, his tongue flicking out to taste the air near your throat. “Sweet... gods, you’re so fucking sweet.”

Your body instinctively arched between them, overwhelmed by the intensity, by the bond humming louder than your heartbeat. And then, softly, from deep in your chest, you purred.

It was involuntary. Natural. Meant for them.

They shattered.

Abby groaned low, his eyes rolling back, hips pressing flush to your back as he rutted against you instinctively, breath ragged. “Fuck. That sound—baby, you’re killing me,” he growled, his lips dragging along your temple. “So good. So fucking good for us.”

Jinu was on his knees in front of you, hands gripping your thighs like he needed to feel your pulse to stay grounded. His head dipped, forehead resting just above your chest, his breath fanning over your skin. “Good girl,” he whispered hoarsely. “So fucking good... purring for your alphas like that. Just like that, baby. Just like that.”

The purring didn’t stop.

Yours, soft and melodic, curled into theirs—rougher, deeper, primal. The sound was thick in the air, wrapping around the three of you like a blanket of heat and bond, melting the pain from your limbs. Abby and Jinu kept you close, their bodies radiating warmth, their hands gentle as they checked your wrists, your legs, your scent.

“She's okay,” Abby whispered, like he needed to say it aloud to believe it. He brushed your hair back, his eyes still glowing faintly. “She’s safe now.”

Abby didn’t even blink when he lifted you with one arm, his hand curling firmly beneath your thighs while the other rested against your lower back, large and possessive and so warm. His touch sent a shiver spiraling through your spine. Not fear. Never fear with him. Just the high of being held by someone that strong, that effortlessly dominant.

My Alpha’s strong. So stronggg.

Your omega purred louder at the thought, helpless against the way your body melted into him.

You curled closer, nose brushing against the crook of Abby’s neck, where his scent was thickest. He smelled like heat and salt and leather and something darker underneath—something that made your teeth ache and your thighs clench. 

“You like that?” he murmured, voice dark, amused, hungry. “You like how easy it is for me to carry you, little omega?”

You let out a soft sound—somewhere between a moan and a purr—and he groaned in return, kissing your shoulder slowly, possessively.

He moved like a shadow down the hall, carrying you like you were weightless. And yet his grip never softened. Like if anyone even looked at you, he’d crush them without blinking.

For the world?

He was fire.

But for you?

He was soft.

Jinu opened the car door and stepped aside, but not without brushing his fingers over your lower back—tender, grounding, a silent I'm right here. He watched you both with a look that could kill anyone not wearing your scent.

“She’s still purring,” Jinu murmured, his voice wrecked and filled with something reverent.

“Course she is,” Abby replied, climbing into the car with you still tucked in his arms, settling you in his lap like you belonged there. “She knows she’s safe now.”

The doors shut with a heavy thud. The outside world vanished.

Inside the vehicle, the air was thick with their scent. The scent of protection. Possession. Home.

Jinu climbed in beside you and reached across, letting his hand slide over your waist, down your thigh, checking every inch of you again, like he needed to feel that you were whole. You didn’t flinch—you leaned into it. You leaned into him.Leaned into them.

The car started with a smooth, luxurious rumble, gliding into motion like a predator at rest.

You were warm. Caged in muscle. Drenched in scent.

Abby’s chest rose beneath your cheek like the swell of ocean tides—slow, steady, grounding. His arm curled beneath you, bicep flexing around your waist like a living wall of muscle. Jinu sat beside you, legs spread wide, one thigh pressed against yours. His hand traced lazy, slow circles over your knee, like he was memorizing the shape of you. His touch never left your skin—not for a second.

You purred again, a soft, dreamy sound that vibrated against Abby’s chest and curled under Jinu’s skin. The low hum of the road beneath you, the heady scent of them filling the car, and the lull of their voices... it was all too much. Too good. Too safe.

“She’s so soft when she sleeps,” Jinu murmured, voice barely above a breath. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your cheek, knuckles grazing your skin with reverence. “So trusting... it makes me want to bite.”

Abby chuckled darkly, lips brushing against your temple as he exhaled. “She’s never gonna feel alone again,” he murmured. “Not on our watch.”

Jinu’s fingers drifted higher, skimming up your thigh where your shorts had ridden up. His thumb grazed the sensitive inside, slow, deliberate. “She doesn’t even know what’s coming,” he whispered, heat curling in his tone. “We’re going to ruin her. Break her in the sweetest fucking way.”

Abby’s breath hitched. He pressed a kiss to your head, soft but possessive. “She’s already ruined me.”

You shifted in your sleep, body arching ever so slightly into Abby’s hold, nose nuzzling the line of his throat where his scent was strongest. Your omega purred louder, instinct chasing his warmth. . You were so close to waking—on the edge of it—but Jinu’s voice caught you just in time.

“Shh...not yet baby,” he whispered, leaning close, his breath feathering over your cheek. “Rest. We’ve got you.”

Abby’s grip around you flexed subtly, possessive. He dipped his head, nuzzling into your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head that lingered.

“She’s gonna have five Alphas wrapped around her finger,” he muttered, voice rough with awe. “They’re gonna lose their fucking minds when they see her.”

Jinu’s hand never left your waist, thumb stroking in slow, soothing circles as he reached into his jacket with the other. He unlocked his phone without looking, his golden gaze pinned to your face like he was memorizing every blink of your lashes, every soft exhale.

He opened the pack group chat.

Jinu: We found her.

The replies came almost instantly.

Mystery: WHERE?

Romance: Is she okay?

Baby: Do I need to kill someone?

Jinu smiled faintly and typed back, eyes never leaving your face.

Jinu: She’s safe. We’re bringing her home.

He stared at the message for a beat. Then, slowly, he locked his phone again and slipped it away.

But his eyes never left you.

“You have no idea what’s coming, little one,” Jinu murmured, leaning down until his lips brushed the curve of your shoulder, soft and reverent. “You’re going to be loved so hard it’ll ruin you.”

Abby’s voice followed like a shadow, hot against your ear. “You’re never lifting a finger again. Not when you’ve got five alphas ready to worship the ground you walk on.”

Their bond coiled around you, wrapping tight like silk and heat and something sacred.

And in that moment…

there was no pain.

No past.

No fear.

Only their hands. Their voices. Their scent in your lungs.

And for the first time—

You didn’t just belong.

You were theirs.

And they would never let you forget it.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @greensunflowerjuna @kyxmlii @just-set-things-on-fire @enerofairy @the-sweet-psycho @silver-rin @nightmarewasteland @reni502 @amenabiii @gremlinartstudio @reiofsuns2001 @p1nkpaperstars @aria-writer @lionheart178 @yogirl-willow @doodle-with-rhy @strawberry-moonpies @mazzk1ng @ikykwkleeknowwww @justanotherkpopstanlol @amery-benson-cvii @hornehlittleweeblet2 @satansdaughter123 @sylum @crescent-z @annispamz @gwinamlvr @levifiance @mynameisy-n @tsukimoon-chan @edgycatx @theravens-things @yoongiprongs

[n3rdyslvt]

i know i have a problem (a voice kink) but from the moment i heard gwi-ma i knew i needed to see every “true form gwi-ma” artwork in existence. shout out to the fanartists 😫 y’all make him look so good.

i also have another problem (a yandere addiction) and knew that it was over for me with all the obsessive lyrics from the saja boys so shout out to all the fanfic authors making yandere and a/b/o fics. IM GETTING FED 🤭

everybody is so talented!!

[n3rdyslvt]

ok crisis adverted, i finally got the free pulls and after using the 20 THEY GAVE ME THE XAVIER LIGHTSEEKING OBSESSION CARD THAT I ALREADY FUCKING HAVE (i almost cried, like xavier you arent even in my top five of love interests for this game 😭 i shouldn’t even be able to get standard myths during a limited myth event BUT I DONT HAVE COLONEL CALEB SO AT LEAST MAKE IT MY HUSBAND 😫) but then with the two free pulls i was able to get one of rafs cards so i will be crying later (yayyy no money or gems) i swear xavier is taunting me. he did this during the spring event where i had everything set up for caleb or raf as a back up AND I GOT FUCKING XAVIER. i fear that he’s trying to convert me but he’s just pushing me to the edge 😔

[n3rdyslvt]

😫 bro the only thing i care about in love and deepspace is the myths and lore. i missed the lumiere and master of fate rerun (caleb and raf and the spring event broke me 😣) and caleb’s birthday JUST finished (i have an unhealthy attachment to that man) butttt i feel like i should try for the raf myth. part of me is like nooooo you already know the gist, its a waste, you hate clicking through the myths anyways because they talk slow, but people are saying it has important lore 😭 im just gonna pray that someone is obsessive enough to write all the myths so i can read them without having to watch anything.

longgggg rant because the senior hunter contest colors irked me (dont take me seriously): INFOLD NEEDS TO GIVE US MORE CRYSTALS AND MATERIALS FOR ASCENDING AND LEVELING UP MEMORIES 😭 like plzzzzz i still have myths from zayne, raf, xavier, and caleb that need to get to level 60 and ascended so i can actually read them fully. PLUS i finally unlocked the senior hunter’s contest (i spent the first 6-7 months on lads avoiding the battle section because i thought i wouldn’t need it and i wasn’t a consistent player 😅) so i have 18 cards that need to be on AT LEAST level 75 for me to feel comfortable ON TOP OF THAT i need the material to level up my protocores to account for my skill gap. and most of my cards for this senior contest are random xavier 4 stars (literally 2 xavier teams and 1 sylus team) because of the fuck ass amount of green, yellow, and pink 😆🔫 AND I STILL NEED TO GET A FIVE STAR SOLAR PAIR FOR SYLUS 😭 i haven’t pulled that bond in myth clothing and i gotta save for the dragon myth… i’m gonna crash bro. but NOW I’m convinced that im just gonna read a myth summary on here for raf, i don’t even like the companion and i hate when they give us swords like i can tolerate a good pair of guns, but a SWORD?? 😔. wand or claymore PLZ (X-02 and abysswalker on top 🤞🏽) actually now that i think about it, besides sylus’ dragon myth, who has a claymore? we need claymore rep, they’re so fire. AND FINALLY, i know people talk about this alot but sylus and caleb (especially sylus at this point) NEED more basic companions, its bs that the og three have three base companions and i’m stuck with scraps for sylus and caleb. they need more cards and another bond 😭 like i’m glad they upped production for the raf myth but like… we have important game content missing, can we deal with that first.

[n3rdyslvt]

LaDs pairings and my personal headcanons on their dynamics

Warning, this post contains: threesomes, polyamorous relationships, male x male x female dynamics, mentions of dom/sub play and dynamics.

A/N: just a silly little post about the various love and deepspace pairings and what I headcanon their throuple / threesome dynamic to be like :3 also this looks way better on mobile than desktop so forgive me for my aesthetic needs lmfaoooo

Xavier x Rafayel x Reader (StarFish)

Cutest name among the pairings first of all

Possibly controversial but I think Rafayel mainly tops in this dynamic… here me out

Xavier is a freak in the sheets but compared to Rafayel? He’s very mellow. He’s so focused on you and your needs that he can drown out some of Rafayel’s antics when getting down to it.

It’s not until Xavier snaps that Rafayel is the center of attention. You and Xavier team up to put the brat of your trio in his rightful place.

Not saying Rafayel loves it… but he loves it.

Xavier x Zayne x Reader (StarSnow)

The silent but deadly duo (lmfao)

I think these two are fighting for dominance while also being civil about it? Taking turns if you will.

In this trio, you are definitely the sub with your two doms. Very little room for switching imo

It’s very rare that you get a chance to top either of them, the two of them always being two steps ahead and getting you railed until you can’t see straight.

Xavier x Sylus x Reader (StarCrow)

Prepare to never feel your legs again.

You are once again the sub in this pairing, but with some free reigns thanks to Sylus

You and Sylus like to team up on Xavier, making the prince of Philos see the stars in which he came from by the time the two of you are done with him

Xavier and Sylus have…wrestled… much to your amusement but Sylus typically always comes out on top. Mostly thanks to his evol and size. Not that Xavier is complaining… he secretly enjoys it.

Xavier x Caleb x Reader (StarApple)

They bicker all the time, they’re always fighting for your attention.

They’re both headstrong, needing to be in control and both equally as obsessed with your pleasure.

Someway, somehow, Caleb manages to get Xavier to give up — his evol held he man down — and you had a time riding him until he was a sobbing mess

Caleb would let the roles reverse willingly after seeing how much fun Xavier got to have being under you.

Rafayel x Zayne x Reader (SnowFish)

We’re looking at two bratty subs with their tamer

You and Rafayel are menaces when together, in and out of the bedroom. Poor Zayne (he fucking loves it)

A common position is you riding Rafayel within an inch of his life while Zayne holds you by your hair and helps himself to your… back door.

Roles have also been reversed, with Rafayel getting fucked senseless while trying not to slobber all over your pussy — and failing miserably in the process.

Rafayel x Sylus x Reader (CrowFish)

Sylus gets off watching you and Rafayel play.

He often partakes in the activities, don’t get me wrong, but he has a thing for watching you and Rafayel get each other off. The struggle of two switches trying not to fall into submissive tendencies… and failing. Cute.

Though, it’s not always the case, when Sylus is involved, Rafayel gets feral. You’re not leaving that bed with working legs… or any feeling in your lower half for that matter. It’s your turn to get fucked within an inch of your life and be pampered on for the coming days.

More than one bed has been replaced…

Rafayel x Caleb x Reader (AppleFish)

Kings of yearning…and stalking… and trying to act like they didn’t plot everything ever.

They initially hate each other, then they realize how likeminded they are and it’s game over for you.

They are torturing you low-key, expect to be tied up, edged until you're sobbing, and then overstimulated until you're begging them to stop. And, spoiler, they won't stop.

Evil ass dynamic for real, they feed off of each other's dramatics

Zayne x Sylus x Reader (SnowCrow)

Oh bitch. Maybe I'm biased (I am) but this combo is elite.

You've got three brat tamers who can all be brats. A group of switches if you will. Couple broken beds with Sylus and Raf? You're looking at multiple broken beds, couches, tables, chairs, fucking destroyed bathrooms, ruined carpets, you get the idea.

You are ruined every time, even if you're on top. You've gotta call out of work the next day, Zayne goes to work limping, Sylus is overly smug about the whole thing

You can plot against each other and still end up fucked stupid

Zayne x Caleb x Reader (SnowApple)

Zayne is putting y'all in your rightful places. Caleb thinks he has a shot at dominating Zayne and is sorely mistaken by the end of it. You really did try to warn him too, now he can't even walk.

Linkon's best surgeon has a time putting Linkon's best hunter and the Farspace Fleet's colonel in their places. Fucking them both to damn tears is is specialty.

We're looking at one dominant with two switches who lean towards bratty subs whether they want to or not

Punishments go crazy with this throuple

Sylus x Caleb x Reader (CrowApple)

You've never known Caleb to be shy until Sylus gets involved. Caleb couldn't stand him, Sylus found it utterly amusing. You? You just enjoyed the show.

Sylus forced Caleb to watch as he fucked you stupid, tears streaming down your face while he's balls deep and kissing you senseless. In the end, Caleb came untouched and realized that being a brat against Sylus would result in real punishment.

Even with his gravity evol, Caleb can't win against Bossman. And either way, you get to have the time of your life with both of your lovers trying - and failing - to work it out.

Either way, you'll be getting wrecked daily... multiple times.

[n3rdyslvt]

bro… where’s all the corrupt power dynamic smut with captain jenna and MC!reader 😫 or dom!tara thats sick of MC being distracted by the men, or yandere sub!tara thats taking care of a sick MC. i know this fandom doesn’t like to taste the rainbow, but damn 😭 at least i can find LixLi but i want cute lesbian sex… and toxic lesbian sex (i might have to write the sapphic smut and supply the fandom 🙏🏽🤞🏽🫡)

and imagine all the fun non!mc plot lines. like the reader is an intern being supervised by nero and just does tech stuff and with captain jenna (or tara) thw reader sees them interacting a lot and tries to impress them but feels like its going nowhere. one day the reader is called into captain jenna’s office (or tara starts up a conversation with her when nero is gone to get help with something in private) and before you know it MC is being spread like butter.

[n3rdyslvt]

random thoughts about vampires:

do vampires suffer from mental and chronic illness ONLY because the human was suffering with those things prior to turning or can these ailments occur post transition?

how do vampire bodies really work. like obviously they drink blood because they aren’t producing any. but like what about chemicals and brain function and hormone balancing. especially as a female vampire. OH!! ok so obviously the female reproductive system affects a lot about women’s health and emotions, so if you were of menstruating age and had a period cycle when turned and it just stopped do you think their hormones would be unbalanced in the same way that having a hysterectomy and the absence of a uterus and period can leave a woman in need of certain hormonal supplements.

maybe female vampires have to be extra particular about who they feed from. like if a woman had pcos and was turned then she might not want to feed from men or other people with pcos and unbalanced hormones because the excess testosterone and progesterone could cause a bad flare up

any vampire dietitians and women’s health experts that find this in 10 years plz share your thoughts

[n3rdyslvt]

i just finished the love and deepspace story update… i’m not even a zayne main and i wanna curl up into a ball and cry. 😭 like wtf bro, i wanted answers about MC’s past but at what cost.

[n3rdyslvt]

that’s why you say fuck it and write and have 47 drafts with none posted 😌🤭

“What if I write it and it’s bad-”

WHAT IF YOU WRITE IT AND ITS GOOD? WHAT IF YOU WRITE IT AND ITS EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANTED? WHAT THEN????

[n3rdyslvt]

global mental health score of 1.49, in dire need of a break from school, too stressed to complete any tasks, avoiding my advisor again, unmedicated, unmotivated, potential pcos, potential pmdd, and unsure of how my life spiraled this out of control

but hey… at least i have ateez tickets and an xavier card that i don’t want (caleb please come home 😫) and i wrote hella fanfic drafts that probably won’t get posted

[n3rdyslvt]

so many love and deepspace spoilers!!please dont read if you dont want to see me short circuit by the time it gets to raf. i’m literally just rambling about how they ended up in the current timeline. but i do have a conclusion at the end if you want the gist without the word salad :)

xavier + caleb + zayne

anyways i’m reading a summary of the xavier lore from otome kitten (i love having it all collected in one place in a nice timeline) and it has me wondering about how exactly the men got here with all their philos trauma. xavier is easy, we know he travels back to earth (traceback II) and from what i’ve heard zayne doesnt remember his astra trauma. with caleb and zayne i’m inclined to say that this is their first/original life. xavier goes back to the current timeline because this is the timeline in which the aether core is fused to MC’s heart, making it the beginning of her trauma. So, i’m gonna operate under the assumption that the events of this timeline somehow lead to the foreseeker and in multiple lives caleb and mc have this little found family + immense childhood trauma thing going on. in terms of dawn breaker… I don’t have that myth 😝 buttt once i read more zayne lore i might be able to include it somewhere in my timeline

sylus

ok after reading an unrelated reddit post I have remembered that sylus is also very simple. he just came here a little while after the chronorift catastrophe (about 2 years i think) through the deepspace tunnel.

raffy

now we have the hard one. raf should be easy because i have both of his myths but his lore spans so many fucking centuries. with rafayel i dont fucking know guys 😭 i dont know how when they first met (like how 214 years from earth passing mc and xavier meet. the mc cursed to die and be born again in starfall forest) i know god of tides is first then abysswalker because the ocean is dried up (i know i need to listen to fragrant dreams, i just hate that MC isnt voiced too. either voice her or give the bf asmr experience and dont have her talk.) anyways long story short with rafayel its mostly an issue of how is he even in the current timeline??? does he spawn? does lemuria go through constant rises and falls? maybe because he and MC share a heart they share similar challenges where he might be reborn occasionally or forget past lives. i still dont know why he exists on earth or how lemuria really fits. what would help is knowing if rafayel has specific memories of earth and linkon before the chronorift. because theres a theory that MC came through the deepspace tunnel and didn’t actually have an earth family before josephine and caleb sooooooo if thats true then rafayel could remember the lemuria from philos and he and the others that were still alive were simply able to rebuild in linkon after being transported through the tunnel. i knowwwww you’re gonna say “but talia is a famous opera singer and a career like that takes years”. ok yes, but zayne is 27 and the fucking chief cardiac surgeon. theyre mermaids that have lived for centuries. you think she couldn’t use those lovely little vocal chords to propel herself into stardom?? its literally cannon that if talented enough, you can get yourself into any role regardless of age or experience caps.

conclusion

so tldr, xavier and sylus used the deepspace tunnel, caleb and zayne are living their first life like MC… potentially, and rafayel is an anomaly that i cant figure out currently 😫😔 buttt he might’ve came through the deepspace tunnel like MC during the chronorift catastrophe (if MC did)

if you read everything, mwah mwah mwah thank you.

[n3rdyslvt]

⋆·˚ ༘ *Geto Suguru is the other name for non-sexual-everyday-life-dominance...

I'm just a little smitten

A hand remains constantly placed at the small of your back, a fond smile as he leads you through the side-walk, it doesn't have to be crowded either, he just likes the feeling of holding you, caring for you - likes knowing that you lay enough trust in him to tune yourself out - likes knowing that around him you don't have to worry, around him you can allow yourself to linger gazes on articles in shop and pause a little too long until he tugs at you to continue moving.

Suguru will smother you too, every morning - you wake up to have him stroking your hair, fond eyes staring at you; every night you go to sleep with him drawing little circles, doodles, signing off his name at every inch of your skin he can manage, listening contentedly to your heavy breathing.

Never says no to anything - unless it tickles his "baby might get hurt" senses - naps? 3 in a day if you want, snuggled in his lap while he talks you through with each one, velvety voice that coos at you, not to forget the constant warmth he radiates.

Makes sure you finish every meal, one thing about him is that he loves having that sort of control and around him, you will love handing it over too - he takes care of everything. A balanced meal, your favourites cooked too, along with the right temperature of water; he just wants you to feel at ease and comfort<3

Nothing is too much for him. Will read you a book if that's what you want, massages? he'll pull that tension right out, remind you to start stretching with him - laugh when you groan and kiss you too. Overworking yourself? will pluck you right out of your desk and hop you in his lap till you're relaxed, talk about every irrelevant thing in the world till you're at ease.

Always has to have an arm around your waist - not to prove anything - he just likes having you curled around him, his fingers digging in your waist if need be, doesn't get jealous, in fact loves it when others try on you - loves to see you shut them down, loves to kiss your cheek while stalking that person walk away.

But let's not forget, Suguru also shuts down attitude that quickly. Does not tolerate any disrespect - doesn't get 'angry', he does get quieter, his smiles get thinner and eyes narrow and twitch with every insult you throw. Mutters just a little "sit back down" or "excuse me?" and that has you reeling.

Never says no to horror movies if you want to watch but holds you close regardless, a knowing smile waiting for you to cling onto him as the scenes get scarier, whispers little teasing jokes in your ear to provide any form of comfort (loves seeing your face shoved into his chest)

overall, 10/10 experience.

[n3rdyslvt]

There's overprotective, and there's Suguru Geto.

"Ah- you'll hurt your eyes, baby, let me handle it"

You're just about to start dicing your onion when Suguru comes up from behind you –fully enveloping you in his warmth– and gently rests his palm on the back of your clenches hand before prying the knife away.

"And this" He runs one long finger along the edge of the blade, from heel to tip "is too sharp for you"

..That damn tone.

Suguru only speaks to you this way when he's about to succumb to the voices, the ones that tell him to scoop you up to hold you in his palm forever, to lock you inside his rib cage and keep you warm, to hold you in his arms and never loosen his grip. You know your faith is set when he begins to rub his cheek against yours, a mother lioness and her little cub.

Smothering.

You have reason to believe that Suguru seriously considers baby proofing the house in its entirety.

"Suguru..." Your disappointed expression only gives him more fuel and now he's audibly cooing at you. How sweet, the precious little baby kitten in his palm, pouting so sweetly, how can you have the nerve to go around being so adorable and acting all bothered when he finally gets his hands on you?

"I'll handle the rest, you should take a rest, baby"

He'll handle the rest? Seriously??

"Suguru, i haven't even started anything yet" you whine, and it's enough to make him run a hand through your hair before pushing you against his chest with one large hand on the back of your head.

Bastard, he knows what he's doing.

Your world shifted the day Suguru learned that his chest can also be a tranquilizer.

Your tense figure immediately relaxes, the rumbling laughter you feel run through his chest tells you all you need to know, and it being that you have once again, lost.

"There you go.." comes an almost taunting coo "isn't this so much better? I like you best this way" And it really, really does, it feels amazing, it feels wonderful being fussed over this much, cared for like this, coddled like a fragile little baby.

"I got here just in time, what if you got hurt, hm? I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if my baby was harmed and i wasn't there to stop it" the whispering voice of a siren, how you managed to stand your ground this long is a mystery to you, Suguru is a force to be reckoned with.

So you put up with it, and let him have his fun, let him play the role of the sweet doting overprotective husbans, because like this, everyone wins and everyone is happy, he gets to care for you, you get to be cared for, perfect.

Aren't you both just a match made in heaven?

[n3rdyslvt]

Bruce Wayne with soft spoken reader

he thinks it's adorable

the quiet softness of your voice contrasts to the rest of his loud chaotic lifestyle

whenever he can't hear you, he leans down to your height with his face next to yours

"What was that, sweetheart?"

having his undivided attention makes you flustered

you can feel him smile against your cheek

even though you talk quietly, you're far from being meek and shy

when conversing with people, you often let out witty comebacks or sarcastic remarks

this makes Bruce laugh out loud

everyone else looks around in confusion

he just tells them not to worry about it

he's very smug in the fact that he's the only one close enough to hear you

however, it does come with its downsides

when you're in a group setting, it's hard to be heard over all the commotion

trying to speak louder can be physically uncomfortable for you

because of this, you tend to fade into the background

bruce makes sure to pull you back in, though

no matter what, you can count on him to be paying attention

at the end of the day, when you're both lying in bed, he'll gently place his hand on your throat and rub it with his thumb

it doesn't make the ache go away but somehow it makes you feel better. warmer.

there in your shared bed, you're free to simply whisper to your beloved husband

[n3rdyslvt]

gluttony, envy, sloth 😫 need that

Yandere Seven Deadly Sins

♡ TW: a lot of different stuff today, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, yandere, stalking, gangbang, harsh language, sexual exploitation, bondage, zero holes safe, and more, read at your own risk

♡ FEM reader

Pride is an artist, and you, poor dear, are lucky enough to be his muse.

You’d caught his eye one day simply by coincidence while working your part-time job as a barista.

And though it had been a rather unorthodox request—between balancing school and work and constantly finding yourself both strapped for cash and strapped for time—you’d decided to quit and take him up on his offer—as what he was offering was about twice what you could make at the cafe anyway.

He’s not that much older than you, but he’s old money. And while you're stuck in community college, he goes to an elite art school—which he doesn’t even show up to, 'cause why would he? They can't afford to kick him out anyway, given his father’s donations make up half of their yearly budget.

And so he's free to self-study as much as he wants.

Yeah... he’s a little too used to getting what he wants—exactly how he wants it—without delay. So when you struggle to come to your sessions on time due to having to take the bus to the other side of town, he decides to solve it by buying you a car. And when he doesn’t feel like that’s sufficient enough, he buys you an apartment right above his own studio. And when you try to reject, he only has three concise words for you.

“Don’t be stupid.”

The way he says it leaves very little up for debate. In fact, it leaves you mute each and every time. 

It was nice in the beginning—you didn’t protest to anything other than his overpriced gifts. You were flattered and blushy and giddy and more than happy to sit pretty for him for hours at a time while he sketched and sculpted and painted and whatnot. It was essentially nothing in comparison to the luxuries he gave you in return.

But you think, at some point along the way, he must have forgotten that he only owns the artworks he makes of you—not you yourself.

“N-naked?” you stutter, looking at him wide-eyed where he stands in his usual apron—flecked with the proof of your countless sessions. Honestly, it was getting to be a little strange posing for him in a room stuffed with a myriad of sketches, paintings, and statues of yourself. Hadn’t he had enough?

“I can’t capture you correctly when you wear all these rags,” he says—clinically, though with a pinch of impatience just shy of vexation—eyeing you from head to toe, almost with a look of disgust while beholding your clothes, despite being the one who’d bought them. “They obscure everything. So take them off.”

You knew he’d probably had about a hundred models undress for him, and stand here—old, young, men, women—you knew it probably didn’t mean much to him. He probably regarded it the same way he does everything—without even batting an eye. However…

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can do that…” You fiddle with your fingers, standing there, still dressed despite him standing ready at his easel, foot-tapping while waiting for you, already with a stick of charcoal between his fingers. 

“Why are you making a fuss? You think I haven’t seen a naked body before?” he jokes, but without humor—no, rather strictness as if you’re wasting very precious time. “This is standard practice—don’t make it anything than what it is.”

There he goes again with those very final words that make you feel all in all kind of silly.

You bite your lip and mull it over before ever-so-begrudgingly uttering a weak little, “Okay…”

You suppose he was right. This is a job, and it’s just nudity—just another shape in the eyes of an artist—it doesn’t mean anything—is what you tell yourself while you undress. Still, you can’t help but feel flush—heart pounding in your chest as you fold your clothes all neatly for some other nervous reason. 

“Resume the pose,” he says—almost like a drill sergeant. And you jump into place, timidly rushing over to the chaise where you lie down like before.

This does feel like it would be a better painting, you admit. More reminiscent of Renaissance art and such. Not that you know much about it, but thinking back to field trips through the museum, you seem to remember having seen plenty of portraits of naked ladies lying on pretty but uncomfortable sofas just like this.

He seems very invested, at least. A deep furl between his brows, nearly scowling at you while he works—though you’ve come to learn that it’s just his concentration face.

After a while, he sets his charcoal down and wipes his blackened hands on his apron.

You sit up, asking, “Are you done?” All but ready to leap from your seat to your clothes and finally cover yourself again.

“No, keep still,” he all but reprimands—voice intense as he stalks across the floor over to you with determination written plainly across his face.

You draw back in place as he rests his knee on the chaise and leans forward. It wasn’t uncommon for him to come and correct your pose, but you couldn’t help but flinch this time around, feeling just a bit too exposed.

His hands are warm and overworked, both dry and a bit clammy all at the same time. You didn’t mind much when you wore clothes, but it felt a bit too intimate now as he touched your bare skin. But you bear with it despite that.

Eyes closed, you repeat that same line from before—it doesn’t mean anything, this is standard practice, it doesn’t mean anything.

It works in calming your breath for a moment, but then he grabs your tit.

You gasp, jolting back while stuttering, “Wha–what are you doing?”

And yet, he keeps his steal gaze just as fixed and unfazed as before, sighing at you as if you were overreacting, before stating rather simply, “Getting a better understanding of your body.” He then reaches toward you again, showing no concern for how you shrink away. “It’s easier to replicate when I know it by hand.”

Again, you let his voice silence you, and again, you closed your eyes and let his hands wander—around your chest, up your neck, down your belly, and then—

“Wait! That can’t be necessary—” you blurt out, this time with your arms and hands shooting forth to distance him.

“Oh, trust me—it is.” Again, he pays you no mind, simply bearing over you with his entitled hands roaming whatever place he so wishes and chooses. Only clicking his tongue at you when you squirm, “Don’t fuss.”

You don’t exactly push him away, though you don’t exactly make his pursuit easier for him—lying there beneath his touches, wiggling and whimpering, though not really protesting either as he feels your slit.

Your fingers curl into his arms, gripping his messy shirt streaked with paint and coal—as his fingers run through your lips, teasing your entrance and your clit. He twists his hand around and presses his thumb down on the pearl after it perks for attention, then enters you with his pointer finger—drawing out wetness before promptly feeding you another.

You bite your lip as they curl and spread within you, testing you out while rubbing firm circles into your clit.

Gingerly, your hips return it, starting to move in tune with his ministrations. Thighs trembling, keeping your eyes squeezed tightly shut as you start to pant—small moans leaving your lips with every breath, feeling it build within you—a small flame at first, nursed until it fills and all but fights for room within you before finally bursting.

“That’s it—that’s the expression,” he purrs—voice much softer than usual—cupping your face with his other hand, holding you steady while taking in those dopey eyes sparkling with pleasure and those parted lips that never dare speak up—eyeing you like he's the proud owner of a prized possession. “Perfect.”

He hums, sounding pleased, then gets off you shortly after, sauntering back to his easel.

“You can get dressed now. I got what I needed,” he states, picking the stick of charcoal up again, ripping the last sketch off for a fresh sheet before starting anew as if nothing had happened.

And you, still lying there, are left just as mute as usual.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shoto, Touya, Hawks, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Megumi ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Oikawa, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae, Baro ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Muzan, Sanemi

Wrath is your ex-boyfriend who refuses to get it through his thick skull that the two of you are over.

Any time you talk to another guy, he beats him up—to a fucking pulp, no less. 

He’s always been that way, and still, it wasn’t always like this…

You started dating each other when you were young. He was rough around the edges, and you liked that about him—tattoos from his neck down to his ankles—the type your parents would have a heart attack if you ever brought home.

He was going to be a professional fighter, he’d say—mixed martial arts. He had all the rage and zero technique, but still, he’d land some of the best on their ass all through pure strength of will alone. 

He was near impossible to train, though—always too wired to be able to take any pointers. And that’s why he needed you. You were his reliever. He’d fuck you like it was his last day on earth, and suddenly he’d be able to do anything. Like an enhancement drug, everything would start moving in slow motion, and he could somehow see all the moves of his opponent before they ever made them.

You admit you liked hearing him preach about it. It made you feel important—made you feel as if half the win, or at least some of it, was yours. And when he started raking in the dough as the champion, winning multiple titles across several tournaments, you were more than happy to be his lucky charm and cheer him on from the sidelines.

But then, you had this awful and sudden feeling of being just that—a tool for his success and nothing else. Sure, he’d give you presents—pretty things he thought suited you well—but you hadn’t gone on a date since his career started, nor had you had a proper sit-down dinner together either. He’d stick to his diet regime, be out training at the gym all day, and you’d be home, going about your own business.

And while you were doing that, you’d think—about the nature of your relationship. And what you found is that all it really entails in the end is him demanding a fuck whenever he needed it—before a tournament, before training, before an interview. And then, after coming to that glum conclusion, you can’t help but feel like nothing more than another one of those items he keeps loose in his gym bag.

And those thoughts only got validated when you tried denying him sex for the first time…

You were just curious, really—curious to see what he’d do. If he’d beg, if he’d plead, if he’d say boo, don’t be that way while down on his hands and knees for you.

But of course... he can’t get anything else but angry.

“If you’re not gonna give me the one thing you're useful for, then what the fuck do I keep you around for?” is what he’d said—no, barked. “You think you’re special? If you’re not gonna put out, I might as well go out and find me someone who will.”

He’d fucked off to some other room with a huff and left you standing there. 

And you don’t know, amidst the shell shock and the ache of your heart coming undone... suddenly, you had no idea why you were there or with him or what you were supposed to do—and when you found no answer to any of those questions, it made no sense for you to stay. And so you went to your shared bedroom—or his bedroom, as a matter of fact, which you’d stayed in for the last months—quickly grabbed your things—your things specifically, and not all the other stuff he’d thrown at you—and stuffed it all haphazardly in your bag, then gone out to the entryway to put your shoes on.

That’s when he’d reared his head again with the gall of asking, “Where the fuck are you going?” 

He hadn’t had that same raised tone as before. No, this time it was lowered—frayed—with a touch of urgency and unease as if balancing on the edge of a knife—as if he knew he'd done something wrong and was reaping the consequences and yet still hadn't the balls to simply apologize and correct it.

And so, you hadn’t answered him.

“It’s the middle of the fucking night,” he’d stated then, coming closer, ready to grab your arm with that hint of alarm in his voice increased. “Hey, I asked you fucking a question—”

That’s when you’d twisted around and slapped him. You’d put all your might into it as well, though you doubt it compared to much of what he’d felt in the ring. 

And still, he’d looked at you as if he’d just lost all his titles. 

He hadn’t said anything else after that—just stood there with his mouth agape as you opened the door and slammed it shut behind you. In fact, you don't think he even dared do so much as take a breath.

You’d gone and crashed at a friend's and rethought your life. There was no way you could ever go back, after all—not after what he’d said. Treating you like a stay-at-home whore. Who the fuck does he think he is?

What an asshole—you'd tried convincing yourself as you cried yourself to sleep…

The days and weeks after were nothing if not fucked up and toxic, to say the least. You’d go out to have a fun time and try to forget about him, but he’d always show up out of the blue to ruin everything—being his usual douche self. 

Though… you can’t exactly claim to be any better than him—not after finding yourself in bed with his number-one up-and-coming rival.

Of course, it ends up all over the news—big headlines plastered on every gossip platform pushing your private affairs for all to see—a real media circus if there ever was one.

You end up back in his apartment. To talk, he’d said—a pretense you had a hard time believing in. He’s never been one to talk much. Honestly, you don’t know why you even bothered coming over when he asked. There might even be a chance he’ll kill you. This is how most homicides start, after all.

The two of you sit in silence for a couple of minutes. You look off to the side, waiting for him to speak because fuck knows you have nothing to say. 

Meanwhile, he just stares at you—his big, hulking body leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands braided before his face. It’s the type of posture he’ll have when sitting in the corner of the ring—he’s got that same look in his eyes, too, deadset on you.

It makes you a little nervous, actually—maybe he really does plan on killing you.

“Why’d you do it?” he asks suddenly.

You almost scoff—almost roll your eyes, but you end up simply returning his dead glare. “Is that really what you asked me here for?”

He doesn’t answer that question. He just keeps staring at you.

You huff out a sigh, “I don’t know, maybe I just wondered what it would be like to be fucked like a woman for once and not someone’s toy.” 

You don’t know why you decided to take it there when you both know why you’d done it. What other fucking reason would there be other than to get back at him? It’s a stupid question to begin with, and so you give it a stupid answer in return. And you won’t deny it feels fucking good—seeing him like this. Five o’clock shadow, eyebags, and uncut, disheveled hair. 

He looks like a wreck, and rightfully so. Fuck knows what a mess you’d been before you finally managed to drag yourself out of bed. Funny what the single simple thought of revenge can do for someone so lost.

He scrapes his thumb down his jawline, over his stubble—a deep sigh running through him as he leans back on the couch. Offering no other reaction as he says, “I can sit here and act threatened, but you and I both know he was shit compared to me.”

He throws his arms up against the headrest, chin tipped up. Thinking he can hide it, thinking you can’t see right through him—to how hard he’s fighting to upkeep the poker face. 

He’s forgetting who his opponent is.

“I know you, babe—I know your body. And there's no fucking way some shitstain you just met–”

“His dick was bigger,” you interrupt—face blank because two can play that silly game, and you do it better.

He’s shut up for a moment—you can see a vein pulse, but it’s quickly stifled, and he smirks instead, snickering despite his grit teeth, “Sorry, that must'a hurt given how much you cry with me.”

This time, you don’t refrain from scoffing and rolling your eyes, “That's all you have to say? Thought you were a fighter.”

“You want me to get jealous? Is that it?” he accuses then, starting to crack, throwing your scoff back at you, “Tch—should've fucked somebody important then.”

This time, you skip the eye-roll and flat-out laugh instead, “I'll keep that in mind. Next time, I'll call up your dad-”

That did it—got him out of his seat and everything. “Shut your mouth.” Standing big and hunched, all muscles and fury.

And you react in kind. Glad that you’re finally getting somewhere. “Make me.”

"You're fucking–" He clenched his fist in the air, scrunching his face in frustration, withholding a growl before releasing a heavy sigh instead.

Dropping his arms, shoulders slumping—hanging his head the same way whilst mumbling under his breath, “Fuck this… fuck this entire thing.” 

And just as quickly as he’d sprung to his feet, he flopped down on the couch again. 

“I don't wanna play games…” He looks up at you—now with the look of a starved and beaten dog. “I don’t want anyone but you.”

He reaches out slowly—big hands cradling your thighs, pulling you towards him gently, and you let him—put off by that strange new look in his eyes.

“You can fuck half the world, and I'd still only want you.”

It’s an odd confession. Unexpected coming from him. You’d anticipated more of a fight, not whatever this is. Looking at you with glossy eyes on the verge of tears. Suddenly, you feel kind of mean, struck with this sense of guilt for having reduced him to such a state.

“Don't take the high road. It doesn't suit you,” you declare, though without much bite.

And he just sighs, “Fuck that, we’re even now.” Pulling you even closer still—into his lap—he makes you straddle him. Forehead to forehead without kissing you yet. “So, are you gonna let me fuck you, or are you really gonna make me beg?”

And though you would kind of like to see what he’d look like on his knees, the sight of him like this was good enough proof that he’d learned his lesson despite it not being an apology.

Besides, he'd been all too right when he’d said the other guy couldn’t fuck you like him.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ HQ – Kyotani, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Shido ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ HxH – Uvogin

Sloth is a street urchin.

You volunteer at the homeless shelter and can’t help but feel extra sorry for him. He’s only around your age—so young yet with no future to speak of.

This winter, given it’s going to be an especially harsh one, all volunteers have been asked if they have any spare room they can be so kind as to give to those less fortunate. And though you’re not that well off yourself, you still have an extra room you’ve only been using as storage.

So, unable to look the other way, you decide to clean it out, get a bed, and host him.

You took precautions first, naturally—just to be safe. But, from what you could tell, he’s neither a drug addict nor has any criminal record to speak of. No, he’s just another abandoned kid who'd society had failed.

This is the least you can do to correct its wrongs.

And, of course, he falls in love with you for it. Not only do you give him a place of rest—but you make him warm food, give him fresh clothes, do his laundry, draw his bath, watch movies with him every night, and always ask him if he has everything he needs. You even cut his long, shaggy hair for him and give him luxuries such as face-lotion. 

You’re a saint, too good for a filthy sinner like him, but he’ll never let you know that... No, your pity feels too nice—taking such good care of him—he’s going to leach off of you and your honeycomb heart for the rest of his life if he can help it.

He doesn't look too bad after he cleans up, and after a few more weeks of eating well and getting enough rest—he stops lurching and starts standing up straight, looking lanky and lean with muscle—at which point you can’t deny he’s even a little hot. You know… in that scrappy sort of way.

You feel weird about it, of course—guilty even. He’s a homeless guy you’re housing—you’d be nothing if not downright evil if you took advantage of him. But after a few weeks of settling in, he starts feeling like more of a normal roommate and not a stranger. And with that familiarity, you both lose the distance and become more lax and loose around each other—wearing less, talking casually, not afraid to brush up against each other, and before you even know it, you find yourself folded in half beneath him on the living room couch.

You don’t know what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself into—but his cock’s so big he’s pounding the sense right out of you with every thrust.

He’s not even going fast. No, rather slow, actually—taking his time as if savoring it. But that doesn't take away from the pleasure bubbling up inside of you where his strokes hit so heavy, resting deep within, so fulfilling that it all but replaces your better judgment with the sole need to squeeze him with all you've got.

“Mh, you’re pussy’s so nice and warm—I could stay inside you forever.”

You’re so wet it’s ridiculous—like never before—like you’re the one who’s been starved and neglected and not the other way around. Getting your breath all but knocked out of you, getting fucked so utterly full, he’s making you kick your feet and curl your toes in the air, bucking your hips back into him like you’re desperately begging for more.

He’s got your knees hooked over his arms, keeping you neatly pressed under him. “You’re so good to me—so, so sweet, you must be the sweetest girl in the whole entire world. My guardian angel.” 

All you’re able to do is babble and moan in return—misty- and cross-eyed with your dewy face cradled in his hands. 

You just hold onto his wrists while he speaks fondly against your lips, “You saved me when no one else even bothered looking. Let me return the favor—give this pretty pussy all the thanks it deserves.”

When he re-angles and hits you in a different spot, the switch in your lower belly is immediate—making your whole body seize up and shiver, breath shuddering in your throat, followed swiftly by a pulse migrating from your core all throughout your body, tasting oversweet on your tongue enough to make you drool. 

He locks lips with yours, slurping your spit up sloppily and keeping himself fully sleaved as you peak—feeling your wet, gummy walls tighten and flutter, rippling along his length like a rush of kisses. 

Then, right before it fully dies down, he picks up the pace again and rekindles it—because fuck knows he’s well-rested and over-due and the farthest thing from done with you just yet.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Denki, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo, Yuji, Megumi, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Kuro, Lev, Miya twins, Suna, Tendou ♡ CSM – Denji, Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Nagi ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Togame

Gluttony is a five-star chef. 

You start off as a waitress at his restaurant. And yet, he’s the one who developed an appetite—for you and your pleasing smile and that busy-bee swing you have in your hip as you hop around from table to table. 

He licks his lips at the sight of you more than he does the food he makes. He even had the uniforms altered in your image—made the skirts shorter and shirts tighter.

He's utterly shameless, but who can blame him? You’re such a little bite-sized treat—he just has to taste you.

And taste you, he most certainly does. 

For breakfast and for brunch and lunch and dinner and supper, as well as a midnight snack.

“Your pussy juice is my favorite,” he groans from between your legs.

Fat-muscled chef’s arms, tattooed with all types of silly patches, curled tightly around your thighs, keeping you close despite those times you try and push away when it gets to be a little too much—because fuck knows he doesn’t have the same reservations. Nose and tongue and chin deep in your slit, slurping you down while filling you up with his words, “I want to flavor every meal I make with you.”

You keep a hand over your face, kissing your knuckles, sometimes with a bite—whimpering pitifully, “Gross…”

Of course, you can’t help but cringe when he says things like that. He’s your boss, after all, not a porn actor. Still, you don’t say it with much conviction. It’s just that you get so embarrassed you don’t know what else to say.

He chuckles, still with his face buried. “Don’t be childish.” Words muffled as he doubles down on his efforts of sucking on your clit like a piece of candy.

“I’m not,” you whine. “You're just weird.”

He smacks off of you at that, a refreshing sigh leaving him rugged and raspy, a devilish look in his eyes as if he’s about to eat you for real. “I’m a world-renowned chef—are you implying I don’t know my flavors?”

Everything in your gut coils with anticipation, nearly rumbling with need, while he pulls your lower half up and even closer—face glossy with the way he’d gorged himself already—licking his teeth now as he refocuses on your clit alone.

Flattening his tongue on it while he speaks, sounding like some type of beast, “I’ve tasted everything the world has to offer. And I'm telling you, this pretty little thing between your legs is the best there is.”

You can’t stand looking up at him. Beyond embarrassed, you hide your face with both hands. Mumbling out a weak, “Pervert...”

Again, he snickers, shaking his head as if he’s ripping into flesh when he’s really just got his tongue out—straight motorboating your poor pussy.

When done, he drops you onto the bed again, grinning while replying to your insult, “Can’t argue with that,” before promptly kissing and licking up your belly—with fingers replacing his tongue, pumping you on his knuckles, getting you ready. 

He groans when his mouth reaches your chest, lips wrapped around a nipple, “If only these titties had milk. I could feast on you from every position.”

You don’t know if you should giggle or grumble—he’s such a baby—and a spoiled one at that. But really, his fingering is making it difficult to do anything but stammer and try and keep it together, “We talked about this—I’m not taking hormones just to breastfeed you, you weirdo.”

He whines then, “Please—it’s my only wish in the entire world—I need it.”

You struggle to argue, feeling like you’re under siege—an onslaught set out to make you breathless. “Well—” you pant, gritting your teeth and bearing it. “We can’t always get what we want.”

“Oh, I’ll see about that.” He takes it as a challenge, this time really locking his lips around your nipple and suckling—releasing just briefly to say, “I bet if I suck on these babies enough, they’ll give me what I want.”

He keeps his fingers working diligently while at it—used to multitasking—curling and spreading them out within you, pumping you so fast, you barely have the time to beg him to “Stop that—” before you’re already shaking and cumming for what must be the seventh time already.

He laughs breathily, kissing your teat goodbye as he lifts himself up again. Pulling his fingers out of you, he brings them to his lips and blithely sucks them off. 

“You know I can’t stop, dear. I’m so hungry—I’m ravenous.”

You watch him from over the tips of your fingers. So hot and mortified you think you’re soon to pass out. Breathing heavily behind your hands, muttering, “You’re a glutton—that’s what you are.”

Again, he just cheerfully snickers, bowing down to your halfway-hidden face with a smile. “I hardly see how it’s my fault I can’t get enough of you.” 

He spreads your legs again and finds his place between them.

“You’re the one who got me hooked—so you better take responsibility for it.”

♡ BNHA – Kirishima, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Todo ♡ HQ – Bokuto, Ukai ♡ BLLK – Baro, Aiku ♡ AOT – Zeke ♡ DS – Doma ♡ HxH – Uvogin ♡ WB – Umemiya, Togame

Lust is your boss. He's the owner of the strip club where you work, your pimp when money’s tight, as well as the porndirector of all your lovely little films.

Yeah, you might as well have a tramp stamp of his name on your ass, the way he practically owns you…

He's around ten years older and has basically taught you all about sex from when you were only a fledgling in the industry. You live at his studio above the club since he keeps all your money in a bank account under his name, calling you his little sugarbaby and telling you you’ll get an allowance and that you can get more if and when you ask him nicely and tell him what it’s for. 

“Don’t be a brat, baby. You know how I hate it when you're a bad girl,” he says when you raise the topic of moving out, treating it as if you’re a child threatening to run away from home.

“I don’t belong to you. Give me what you owe me.”

Honestly, you have no idea where you got the courage. 

But is it courage? Or is it just plain stupidity? Because, though you’re increasingly more terrified as you quickly watch him lose his temper, it doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. And so, if you knew this is what was going to happen—why the fuck would you put yourself through it?

Must be madness.

“I give you everything, don't I? Food, clothes, a home,” he chastises, bearing over you while you’re down on scuffed knees, holding your wrist in a bruising grip and your face just as fiercely—nearly tearing the skin off your cheeks with the bite of his nails.

“And still, you have the fucking nerve to act like a goddamn bitch.”

You hiccup on sobs, spluttering out a desperate “Please—I’m sorry–”

"You and your entire slut body belong to me, you understand that?"

"Yes-yes—please—I'm sorry! You're right! I belong to you! I'm sorry!"

That seems to calm him just a bit—at least enough to take the bite away from his voice, now cooing at you in an ugly mocking attempt at sweetness, “Yeah, you do every single little thing I ask. ‘Cause if you’re not gonna behave like a good girl, I have no other choice but to treat you like a bad one.”

He lets your audience be rowdier than usual that night, allowing them to slap and grab, then forces you to have an extra rough shoot afterward—with tighter bondage, more toys, bigger guys making use of you like a piece of meat, smacking and choking you as they find out how many cocks your holes can fit, every last one finishing on your face.

Then, when you’re all done and all used up for the day, he brings you upstairs—home, sweet home—where he treats you to some much-unwanted after-care...

You shiver and shake despite the hot water. Sitting in the bathtub, laying back with your spine against his chest, feeling thin like a sheet of paper, all crumbled up and torn—sniffling and sniveling as the after-shock of the day still ricochets through you like wind through a hollow husk.

“The shoot today was rough, huh?” he drawls, washing you with his own hands. Stroking your poor sore cunt despite how it makes you whimper. “Yeah... was it a little too rough for you, hm?” 

You don’t do anything in return—but your body language says enough on its own, and he allows it to be your answer.

Sighing heavily, he wraps you up with both arms and squeezes you tighter, chin resting atop your head.

“You know… if you’d just be my good girl, I’d give you a good girl to-do list. Let you stay here all day, do some house chores while I’m gone, make love when I get home, hm? Doesn’t that sound better?”

He traces a welted bruise on the inside of your thigh, one you got from the shoot—roughly the shape of a hand, and a dozen more others layered on top of it. It makes you suck in a hiss.

“But if you’re gonna be a bad girl, then this is what you get.” 

He settles into the grove of your neck, purring against your ear. “Are you gonna be my good girl from now on? Hm?”

You bite your lip, breath shuddering while nodding pitifully.

And still, he insists, “Say it so I can hear it.”

The water’s gone cold around you—just like everything else, as you say, “I’ll be a good girl.”

He seems pleased, at least. Nuzzling against your cheek with chin stubble and a smirk, asking, “Yeah? Whose?”

Your voice is small and pathetic, nearly a wince, “Yours.”

He groans then, “That’s right. My good girl.” Lifting his hand from the water, he takes hold of your chin, fingers pressing into those designated sore spots as he angles your face toward him and gives you a heartless kiss before growling against your lips, “And don’t you ever fucking dare forget it again.”

After he’s finished washing you up, he carries you out to bed. It's one you fear much more than the one down in the studio.

Because in this bed, just like every night in this hellhole… he starts teaching every last one of your holes who they belong to.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Naoya, Toji ♡ BLLK – Reo, Shido, Aiku ♡ AOT – Zeke ♡ DS – Doma, Muzan, Sanemi

Envy is your enemy. 

Or, well, no, he’s not your enemy, but you’re most certainly his enemy. 

You’re just not aware of it because of what a ditzy and clueless airhead you are. 

But fuck, he can’t stand you—you and your fake personality, acting all bubbly and sweet, cheering him on, always telling him to do his best—condescending little bitch acting like everyone’s friend—like he doesn’t see through you right to your rotten core. You don’t fool him—he knows you’re as bad as the rest of them, so just quit pretending like you’re better or something.

You’re under the false impression that the two of you are friends. You just think he has a strange sense of humor, but you laugh politely even when you don’t always get the joke.

Well, maybe it’s not so much politeness, but the fact that you have a big fat hopeless crush on him.

It infuriates him. He throws your niceties back in your face as insults, and you just laugh. How low do you think of him? Honestly? How tall is that high horse of yours that you have your head constantly in the clouds?

Poor you… you just think he’s so cool—always saying what he feels like, not a lame people-pleasing goodie-two-shoes such as yourself. You can’t help but follow him around like a lost puppy all day long. You’re always making sure you sit next to him during lectures—heart almost beating out of your chest, holding back from squealing when your prayers are answered, and the two of you are finally paired for a project together. 

It really feels like the universe is on your side, and so you just can’t stop yourself from going the full mile—making chocolates and preparing him a hand-written love letter. You know he’ll think you’re a little silly, that he’ll make fun of you for it—but you can’t expect to get anywhere without putting your heart on the line, can you? For a chance at love, the risk must be worth it!

Yeah, you’re such a hopeless romantic—you feel it as he punches his fist through your ribs when he rips out your poor heart and stomps all over it. 

“I fucking get it already! You’re little miss pretty and popular. Would you quit rubbing it in my face, or do I really have to spell it out for you? I. Don’t. Fucking. Like. You,” he seethes through grit teeth. “Go pick another one of the hundreds dying to be your partner and leave me the fuck alone!”

You shrink where you stand, shocked doe-eyes rapidly welling up like a flood, lips wobbling as you choke on your words, “Oh… okay… I’m sorry… I just… I–”

“You-you-you what?” he barks at your stuttering. “Spit it out already! What the fuck do you want?”

“I just-I-I just always thought you were amazing. So…”

His face contorts, scrunches up in a grimace different from anger, though not without it, as he spits out, “What the fuck are you on about now?”

But his voice is a little diminished now, with confusion usurping the place of his hate, suddenly feeling a little out of sorts because… what did you actually just say?

“I just, I really like you–” you repeat, hanging your head, only barely able to mumble through the tears blocking your throat. “But I guess I’ve just annoyed you all this time—I’m sorry...” 

Only now does he notice you’re trying to hand him something—a flat little box with a pink note attached. 

“This is for you, but I understand if you don’t want it.” Unable to look up, you just stretch your arms out until it gently bumps into him. 

Baffled, he accepts without thinking.

“I’m sorry—I’ll leave you alone from now on.” And then you run off, disappearing with a sob that all but shoots him through the chest.

And slowly bleeding out, he remains standing there, eyes glued to where you'd left—mouthing the word what…

What did you just say? 

Like? Him?

Did he mishear you, or did you just confess? 

No way—that can’t be it, right? 

But what the fuck is this heart-shaped letter, then?

"What the fuck did I just do?"

You look like you’ve been crying your eyes out all night the next day—your usual bubbly personality reduced to a ghost in a shell, walking the hallways like a zombie, slowly and without purpose, eyes on the ground—letting everyone bump into you.

You don't even so much as bat an eye when someone runs straight over you, fully knocking all your books and folders onto the floor. 

You just get on your knees and start recollecting them.

A newfound hate flares up within him at the sight. “Hey, you!" He stomps over. "Watch where the fuck you’re going next time, dipshit.” 

You look up at the sound of his voice—flinching before you notice it’s not directed at you.

No, rather, he’s got a boy up against the lockers, lifted by his collar onto the tip of his toes. Face only a few inches from his, glaring at him harsher than he’d glared at you yesterday.

“Now apologize to the girl before I punch your ugly face in.”

You stare at the altercation with large eyes, only able to blink as the boy who’d bumped into you starts spluttering on the verge of tears, “I–I’m sorry–I didn’t see you! Sorry!”

You don’t answer. Shocked and speechless, you remain on the floor in confusion, asking yourself why’s he doing this? Didn’t he cuss you out yesterday, or was it all a bad dream like you'd hoped?

He throws the boy on his way, then gets on his knees down alongside you—proceeding to help you gather your things.

You only watch on in wordless bewilderment until he starts muttering something under his breath.

“I’m sorry I made you cry yesterday.” He stacks all your things in a neat pile next to you while continuing his apology. “And for being an asshole. You didn’t deserve that.”

He keeps his eyes fixed to the floor where his hands busily roam around until there was nothing more to retrieve.

He then hesitantly looks up at you—eyes flittering—a little too ashamed to hold your gaze as he says, “Your chocolates were really good.”

That’s when your heart starts fluttering again—as if new life was just breathed in and revived it.

He can see it as well—how you light up like a rekindled candle.

“They were?” you gush, shuffling closer on your knees all excitedly—face brighter than the sun on cloudfree summer day.

It blinds him—nearly stunts him, only able to utter a meager, almost shy, “Yeah.”

He then slings his bag in front of him and pulls something out.

A lunchbox. 

“I made you these..." he swallows thickly. "As an apology…”

He’s utterly red—from the tips of his ears to his neck and entire face, even his hands.

“For me?”

“Yeah..." He reaches it over stiffly. “They’re not as good as yours, though...”

You eagerly accept despite his nervousness, popping the lid off where the two of you sit—right there in the middle of the hallway floor, with other students walking around you like water passing two rocks in a stream.

His blush grows ever more intense as you pick one of his crudely made chocolates up, not even examining it before throwing one into your mouth.

It was his first time making anything that required a recipe. And they most certainly did not come out well, but he figured the embarrassment was part of his atonement.

He didn’t actually expect you to try them.

But there you are—lying through your teeth, saying, “I think they’re great!”

He can only scoff out a soft laugh. “Of course you would.” 

Turns out, you really are just a nice person after all. You don’t have the heart to be mean at all, do you? Yeah, you don’t even have it in you to feel any of the ugly things he keeps inside. In fact, he bets you don’t even have the means of knowing such ugly things exist.

That must be what he’s envied about you all this time…

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Shinso ♡ JJK – virgin Sukuna, Megumi ♡ HQ – Tsukishima ♡ BLLK – Rin, Sae ♡ DS – Genya

Greed is your clingy childhood friend. 

He doesn’t want to share you with anyone and gets viscerally jealous each time you hang out with others. It’s as if he feels boils rising beneath his skin, simmering with a violent need to kill anyone and everyone you ever come into contact with—even if it’s just a passerby who accidentally brushes against you.

He can’t stand other people—how they think they can just come along and be your friend when he’s been your friend since you both were in diapers. What? Do they really expect him to share you with them? Just like that? No way. You’re his best friend. They should all go find themselves their own.

Actually, the term best friend doesn’t even really cut it… It’s a little too childish. You’ve both grown out of it. And besides, it never really fully encompassed what the two of you actually are to each other. You’re so much more than just friends, after all. Yeah, what you really are is soulmates. Yeah, that sounds more right. Soulmates.

And the bond between soulmates is like the bond between an addict and their favorite drug. You wouldn’t ask an addict to share his favorite drug, now would you? No. Not unless you’re prepared to either kill or be killed.

But he can’t say he blames them for wanting you, either. Of course, they’d want you—anyone would.

He pities them, actually. And you make it no better for the poor suckers, stringing them all along—acting as if there’s enough of you to go around. Well, there just isn’t. And even if there was, he shouldn't have to share you with anyone.

Yeah, the problem here is you. You don’t get it, do you? You don’t understand that you’re his. 

Well… seems like he’ll just have to teach you once and for all, now, doesn’t it?

“What’s… this?” you mumble groggily once you wake, sluggishly tugging your bound wrists—not yet aware of what they are. Your eyes blow wide once you do—voice turning sharply frantic, “What’s happening?”

“We’re having a play date like we used to.” He comes into view just as the panic sets in—and though his face has all the familiarity to be a sign of comfort, his words evoke no such feeling within you.

“Remember? How we used to play house?" he says. "Granted, we're a little older now… so I thought I’d change it up a bit.”

He stands before the bed you’re currently lying tied down on. But he doesn’t look like himself. No, there’s something very wrong about all of him. Seeming way too at ease for the situation.

“Instead of making mud pies…” he continues. “I'm gonna fuck you and give you a creampie.”

Your heart lurches up into your throat at his words, and you choke. Your clothes from the day have been removed, leaving you naked. You spot them lying on the floor in a heap while you spastically look around for clues as to “What the fuck’s going on? This isn’t funny–”

“Shut up,” he says—his demeanor still as nonchalant as he climbs on top of you and pushes something past your lips, nudging it deep down in your throat.

Feeling it as it scrapes your tongue, you can tell it’s your lace panties, and you gag—shaking your head, trying to dislodge both it and his fingers, but he holds you steady.

“I have things to say. So, be a good friend and listen.”

You start crying then—brows cinched as you look up at him in terror, full-tremoring now while struggling under his weight and the all-too-intimate way he starts touching you.

“I'm glad you’re still a virgin…” he suddenly says, running his hands down your breasts, catching your nipples between his fingers.

You twist in disgust, halfway convinced you’re having some godawful fucked up dream—that this just can’t be happening—but somehow, at the same time, something deep in your gut that’s been lying there for a while ignored by your kind heart doesn't find it completely without warning, having felt how strange he'd been acting as of late—always looking at you a certain way and saying certain concerning things—certain concerning things he’s saying right now, “I’d kill all those little toy friends of yours if you were ever so stupid to let them have it.”

He glares at you—looking every bit angry, and yet you can’t describe it exactly. Something about that look in his eyes makes him seem like a complete stranger to you. Then he cracks a smile, and it makes it all the worse. Bowing down until his forehead presses clean against yours, noses rubbing against each other.

“But I think you knew. Didn’t you? Knew how it wouldn’t be right. Knew it was mine to take.”

He shuffles backward until he’s separating your thighs instead of straddling your waist. And you croak with an especially full-chested sob as his touches travel further down along with him—with savage goosebumps running rampant across your body once he rubs his thumb crassly over your slit.

“You see?” his breath shudders in his throat—thick with something mortifying that’s bound to ruin you forever. “It’s so happy to see me.”

You whine and scramble, trying to force your thighs shut—but he has the upper hand—keeping you spread with his body while two of his fingers slip through your lips and bully themselves inside.

He pumps them in and out with zero regard to how you recoil—only sneering at the way you worm in disgust, “At least your pussy understands where its loyalties lie.”

It’s not long before his ministrations draw wetness, and he pulls them out—inspecting them in the dim light he’s left on. Rubbing the digits together before putting them in his mouth.

You close your eyes with a whimper while listening to the sickening sounds of him sucking them clean.

He puts both hands around your neck next. He doesn't squeeze hard, but your breath stops nonetheless. Eyes stinging with both spent and still-welling tears.

“I’m upset with you,” he states, brushing his lips over your parted ones, still stuffed and silenced with your own underwear. “But I’ll forgive you if you apologize and swear to me that you meant it when you said we’d be friends forever.”

That look in his eyes—you still can’t explain it. Desperate, desolate, deranged, and enraged—something downright sick.

“But since you can’t talk right now, you’ll have to prove it some other way...”

One of the hands disappears, and you hear the following sounds of a zipper being undone, then the rustling of his pants being shoved down.

“Cum on my cock, and I’ll know.”

The room tastes of blood and something rotten as he frees his cock and graces your clit.

“Actions speak louder than words anyway, after all, don’t they? So cum on my cock, and I’ll cum in your pussy, so we can seal our friendship again—just like the time we married each other on the playground.” 

He enters you, and you think you might just die in the mix of horror and grief.

And yet you remain perfectly alive—even as he rips through you and splits both you and your heart apart.

“You can think of this as the honeymoon,” he whispers. “Always and forever, happily ever after, never apart.”

♡ BNHA – Deku ♡ JJK – Yuuta ♡ HQ – Tendou ♡ BLLK – Bachira ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Nirei

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[n3rdyslvt]

i can’t wait for pregnant/mother reader infestation on my timeline to end 😭 like pleaseeeee spare me

[n3rdyslvt]

I’m losing my mind