axetivev

[axetivev]

— Summary: The heir for the Evergardens, an absolute nightmare since your childhood was filled by nothing but your parents' "love". But now they're gone, the citizens hoped at least, you're better than them and they asked you to capture a thief that had been a problem for years. But oh, how funny that fate made you fall in love with him.

— Warnings/Tags: Reader's last name is "Evergarden", Mentions of child abuse, Non-con Drugging, Use of Aphrodisiac, Masturbating, Mutual Masturbating, Age gap (Hector is 4 years older).

— Words: 3.2k

— A/N: tbh, the making of Hector is inspired by Cipher from HSR, yeah... since I revealed Ji-Yeong, I'll delay the opening request, since you guys interested in him... i hope you don't mind. i don't really have much to say, therefore; i hope you enjoyed this fic !!

— Pairing: Oc!Hector x Male!Reader

Being a king inside of a magical world, filled by fantasy where teenagers fantasize about being a mage, having royal blood, and romance. But this isn’t a novel book. This is what you had to face in full highest quality.

People fantasize having royal blood, but you’d do anything to not avoid it in your second life. Yes—you’re rich but in the other hand, your life meant nothing other then control. Magic was also a thing, obviously. Even if you can technically used magic, but you simply refused. Why use something weak when blades are useable? That alone made conflict in the palace.

Being the future heir for the kingdom was supposed to learn magic and not disappoint their family, that was what your parents would feed you every single day during dinner. But that never you put to ear, blades kept you entertained besides those lectures about how to be a good future ruler for the Kingdom had to learn magic. Still, it never interested you to learn such thing.

Rebellious to the palace’s eyes, but seen as interesting and a possible good ruler to the people in your kingdom. You where known to often run away from the palace during your supposed “training” to play with the kids of the citizens, punishment was what they would use on you, hitting, getting slapped and many more. But does it work? Never!

You remember being sat down as your father angrily lecture you about every action you made—it’s unacceptable especially for the crown prince. It’s boring… so you often gazed at the window inside of the study, your eyes always met with lighting—a zoom so fast it often caught you off guard. The screams of people saying one thing as they chase that lighting; “THEIF!”.

Your father paused mid lecture when you were completely distracted by the lighting. “Evergarden [Name].” Your father called coldly but you didn’t look at him. “Did you even listen to your father!? Are you seriously expecting the kingdom to have a ruler like you? A failure! Absolutely failure!”

“Better off you shut that mouth of yours before you died from old age, old man,” you spoke back, it’s normal for you to do so. You glanced at your father who’s face was red, boiled by anger. “I’m leaving.”

You didn’t even look back as you slammed the study room’s doors. The palace was gloomy as it usually be, you sighed. But that lighting kept replayed on your head, it was fast… and fascinating. You replayed it to keep that imagine on your head; the gold and orange lighting coming from that figure and with a blink, they were gone.

Thieves are bad people… but that scene was cool for your young naïve brain. You don’t know who they might be, but how bad can they be, right? You skipped around the corridors, as the moon shined bright. Even so, you failed to notice that a shadow of a boy creeping to the dark night looking at your figure.

“What a naïve cute little heir…”

Even after years of so called “punishments” that’s just straight up abuse, both of your parents—the king and queen was found assassinated. Honestly? You don’t know what to reach, neither to be happy, sad, or even don’t care at this point. Yes, they both wanted nothing but you to be a good king when they passed, but the things they do to achieve such goal is inhuman.

Everyone thought you’d cry the day they announced their deaths. Truthfully, you don’t feel anything. However, for the sake of reputation. You pulled out your fake tears just to satisfied the kingdom.

The morning of the kingdom was gloomy, sad and empty. That’s what people say, most of your family members mourn your parents’ death, the two coffin was placed closely to each other. You kept shifting on your sit uncomfortably, their faces was mourning. Mourning. Mourning to those two people who had left those marks that’s hard to go, you kept adjusting your black cloth hoping someone wouldn’t noticed quickly that you felt uncomfortable or whatever this is suffocates you.

When the ceremony was over, nobles gave you their sorries for your lost, now. With you sitting on the age of 23 and being the only child, of course you were seen as the next ruler. What else? Their voices haunts you even after you hold a stoic expression during the ceremony; “Don’t disappoint your mother, [Name]. What king cries when they can’t do something!?” “Tsk, what? Crying when I hit your arm? I’ve experience worst! I’m kind enough to go easy on you.” “Failure! You had potential. [Name]. Why did you throw it away just to play with blades!?”

“Hey,” a voice right beside you made you snapped to reality, you turned your head to find a man wearing a hood. “Something in your mind?”

You titled your head, someone asking you about what’s going on in your mind? “You can say… so.”

“Hah, being a heir for this kingdom? This? You serious wanted that?” He laughed, the people around you also doesn’t seemed to care, but his words stuck with you; do you even want to be a king? “Y’know, behind close doors… sooo many nobles are corrupt, and yet. They rather see a man who just wants coins to be executed.”

You just look at this man, absolutely dumbfounded under your stoic expression. He shook his head amusingly as he tossed a coin with his thumb, your eyes followed the gold until it lands on his second hand. He tapped your hand, fisted and on your lap. As if he asked you to open it, you did. And find that same coin on your hand.

“That’s called magic, handsome.” You almost wanted to laugh—but you pressed your lips as you look at the coin. The man stood up as he about to walk away.

“…May I ask your name?” You asked when he then turned at you, a grin spread on his face.

“Hector.”

Inside of your room, your mind lingers to that name. You don’t know what’s up with him, nor even you know how he looked like. But he entertained you, even enough to make you wanted to laugh. It felt nice to feel that after you had to bottle it to a stoic face. Just imagine where you and Hector being actual friends and not just for the kingdom… oh, imagine you two can be more then friends! Just imagine—

—You should stop daydreaming… it wouldn’t happened. That reality slapping you. Life sucks, being a noble sucks, just in a few days you’ll be a ruler for this kingdom. Filled by corrupt minds, who wanted nothing but money… who wanted nothing but power. But thanks to your own parents who’s corrupt, they ran away without consequences. You rubbed your temples, you’ve know this but you can’t do much about it back then, but now… you could. Well, the later you could.

[Hector’s P.O.V…]

“Hey, thief, what’s with you and that heir?” Hector’s friend, Albert sipped the glass of beer in hand. His face was slightly red from being somewhat drunk. “He might look capable, but he’s weak. Can’t learn magic… he—hiccup—he’s pathetic under that stupid face…”

Hector chuckled as he put his leg on top his knee, twirling his own beer. “That’s a bonus! Don’t you think?” He leaned his glass forward, admiring the golden color fizz. “Oh poor Evergarden [Name]… he really faced those shits alone, his parents are dead now. But, does he able to be a better king that stupid old man?”

Albert puts down his glass, Hector rolled his eyes when his friend continued to hiccup. He pulled his glass and practically drank everything in a single go, he pulled his glass up, the reflection of Albert came. But that wasn’t what he was looking for, Hector grumbled as he put his glass down. Maybe looking for the Evergarden heir would be a good idea, he thought as he stood up from his chair.

“The bill is on you.” Hector laughed to himself, he turned to Albert who’s drunken dumb before he speed up—trail of gold and orange soon gone when Hector wasn’t around.

What a poor end to get kicked out by the bar for not paying and getting drunk, and Hector ran away like he didn’t do anything… poor Albert.

“What’s with that face, your highness?” Your eyes flickered to the voice that came from entrance of the study, the same study your eyes met that gold lighting. A servant of yours, Oscar. Loyal to serve your father.

Everything during the ceremony of you becoming king went oddly enough, smoothly. Too smoothly. You remembered everyone—nobles, citizens, and the royal servants all clapped at you the moment the crown was placed on your head. Your face remain unchanged as you gave your speech and everything else you honestly wanted to forget since for the past few days stressed you out.

You sat on your seat, Oscar made his way beside you as he hold a glass of water in hand which bring you suspicion. But you kept your calm demeanor, keeping that unreadable face as he placed the water on your desk, which you barely gave attention to.

“Ah, focused aren’t you?” He teased, You gave Oscar a light glare before focusing back to your papers that’s mostly empty. “How about a glass of water to calm yourself from that cold—face?” Oscar took another glass seemed out of no where. But that’s his magic stuff... you sighed.

“I don’t need your bullshit.” Your words were harsh, but your hand was polite, slowly declining the fancy glass in Oscar’s hand. “Please, leave.”

Oscar looked at you, almost not amused. “Ah, but your father wanted me to make sure his “son” would be a good heir. And not a failure, your highness.” He said, your fingers twitched. Almost as if you ready to punch him in the face.

“Fine, I’ll drink your stupid water.” You took the glass out of Oscar’s hand, without thinking, you just drank the liquid without thinking of the consequences. It’s something that’s in your vein at this point. Your saw him smiling, but his smile didn’t reached his eyes.

After you finish, Oscar was nowhere in sight. You shifted from your seat and gaze to the papers in front of you and get to work. Paper after paper, is life this boring? You didn’t know either asked. What you knew, your father bottled his emotions and finally pour it to his son, you.

The candle across the room was the only thing company you as continued your endlessly amount of work, that. Until a knock came from the window of the study, a pigeon—possibly from someone or some sort. You rose from your seat and opened the window as the bird gave you an envelope, but it didn’t seem to disappear immediately. Strange, since it was a shadow and you expect I’d just go away. Instead, it leaned to your shoulder.

“I don’t have much,” you muttered quietly as you walked to your desk, opening a drawer to take a small amount of safflower seeds and gave it to the pigeon that eagerly ate them. “Is there something going on during my work hours?”

The pigeon looked at you, shaking it’s head as it continues to eat slowly. You chuckled to yourself as you opened the envelope, wrapped in brown paper and a crimson colored stamp. At first glance, you expect it might be a neighboured kingdom. Instead, it was a letter from a citizen. A women under the name “Silvana”.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

ㅤㅤ For our dear King [Name] Evergarden…

Your highness, you may have heard this from word and word… there’s a thief roaming around the kingdom! He had stole many… food, clothes, and many more that we citizens lost.

We hope you’re able to capture him, from the suspects who had saw him told that he had a dark brown hair… we don’t know his eyes but he had a super power. It’s popular to be known as super speed, but they suspected it could be more. Unfortunately, he don’t know his name... We’ll inform you again, your highness.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFrom:

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSilvana Gunnhildr.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You stare at the paper for longer then you’d thought you’d do. The pigeon was already gone, is it? You didn’t even care to noticed. You already pulled out an empty sheet of paper, trying to break the plans for capturing this thief you knew it’s probably the same one from your childhood. But you wrote the multiple ways you could possibly capture him, even if, he had powers you yourself cannot do.

Papers scattered around the room when you finally noticed the first tall candle was on its way before it died. Tired as fuck is what your body would say, you don’t know how long have you spend juggling both those stacks of paper work and your plan of hunting down this thief. You stood from your chair just to feel a weird feeling that twirling inside of your stomach.

You ignored it, well. That’s what you wanted to do. But you felt your body getting warmer, you clasped your hand to your mouth, your breath was slow but it was hot. A low whimper escaped your lips, it sounds… pathetic. Very pathetic. You don’t know what was in your mind, but you immediately touched your crotch.

Fuck it… you said to yourself as you sink at your chair once more, you shamelessly opened your pants. Your erect cock was already twitching—you felt your body getting hotter and hotter. It’s indeed shamelessly and unethical, but who cares at this point. You grabbed your now weeping cock and stroke it gently.

But no matter what you do, your cock just doesn’t want to cum. Frustration boiled you when you cried out, whining inside of the empty study, you gritted your teeth when you used your second hand to find your asshole almost like it was an instinct. You slowly inserted your digit, stroking your dick and playing with your hole both at once sure is difficult, but you can’t deny that the pleasure was good.

“Enjoying yourself aren’t you?”

You nodded. “Fuck, I can’t cum—” you paused whatever you’re going with the speed of light, you snapped your head to find the man just like the envelope describe; dark brown hair. However, you saw he had golden eyes that just straight up staring at your soul and his voice sounded… familiar too?

“Hello there, handsom—” You didn’t even think twice as you throw your sword at him then stabbed the wall, blood running from the man’s cheek, he stumbled back where the same cheek which bled was close to your blade.

With your right leg, you quickly pinned the man. You use your hands to held your sword, despite the heat still pooling inside of you, the fact that you can still act quick enough to someone disturbing you was scary. But hot—

“…Hector?” That name rolled off your tongue, your guard melted for a split second before your eyes set gaze harder.

Hector was that thief. That thief your people hate. Despised, you… actually liked him? No, stay focus. The thief looked at you, even if you’re the same height, he looked amused as he saw your chest raising slowly, your hot breath clasping with his own, a smirk played along his face. You raised and eyebrow and didn’t even tried to lower your guard.

“You’re red…” He commented, you bit your lip to held back a sound that made you pathetic when Hector’s palm moving down towards your crotch that’s already damped. “…And wet, guess that servant of yours really gave out a strong one. Huh~?”

“How about this,” Hector licked his upper lip the moment your stoic expression slowly melted after you unsuccessfully held back your sweet—sweet whiny voice. “You can’t cum, right? How about a hand, hmm?”

And now, what king wanted to agree to that? Unfortunately you did.

Well, there’s no choice really. You remembered that you had an event going later, and if you can’t cum now, how much of a mess would it be later? Definitely it’s not because you liked Hector.

Hector’s cock if compared to you sure is a difference, it’s scary that for something like Hector needed a cock that big. You bite in to the edge of your gown, Hector’s hand wrapped around your cock and his as he then carefully moved his hand, it was slow. Painfully slow. But you didn’t dare to complain, the whines and low moans was enough to made you sounded pathetic. Asking Hector, a literal wanted thief to go faster would absolutely be shameless.

You can’t see him in the face. Not like this, not with the fact your eyes were watery the moment his thumb rubbing against the slit of your glan. Hector was the one who kept his eyes on you, it was filled by mischief, when his hand was on the very bottom, he used his powers—his stupidly fast hand to go rougher on you.

It didn’t even take a second for you finally cummed—it was everywhere. White spilling to the sofa of your study as you continued to whine. Hector’s hand didn’t stop, even if you cummed. You saw it again; that lighting that mesmerized you even until this point on, even making you failed to realize that you already cummed the second time with a loud moan. That’s where Hector’s hand finally stopped, as his own cum sprout out.

Your legs trembled as you collapsed into Hector, your gown was covered by white so as the sofa. But hey, bonus points since you aren’t horny ask much. And maybe—the

“Your highness~? Hellooo?” Hector’s thumb circled around your cheek that’s still red, you wanted to slap him so much but you didn’t had much energy left. He chuckled at your weak form.

“Shut it…”

“Oh? What’s with that? I thought you’d be submissive longer~” Hector teased you, almost as if he wanted to grilled you so much.

You sighed as you straighten up, but the moment you about to slap him. A low creak came from the door and there it was, a female maid came to your study. Seeing your shocked face, she hesitant to even speak with you.

“You highness, the ball will be held in thirty more minutes. Some mages and other important people are on their way.” She explained, her tone was almost sounded deadpan. You were confused, Hector was with you… why doesn't she react?

Answer; Hector already ran out. The speed of light. You stood up, too fast that your legs trembled, you turned to your maid when you remembered again that you didn’t cleaned everything up.

“G–get… please, give me a moment!” You closed the door, fast. That was… embarrassing. You leaned to the door as you dropped to the floor. Hidding yourself on your knees. Hector… that asshole!!

“Don’t you think you’re a bit too much on him, thief?” Albert, somehow was beside Hector who sat on the grass hill where the Evergarden palace could be seen.

He laughed—a laugh that sounded rich as he stood up. “Noope, ah… such a shame I didn’t get to take anything in that palace,” Hector whined, Albert who didn’t look amused instead walked passed him. “Should I fuck him so—”

“HECTOR WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?”

[axetivev]

Hello I'm transgender but I was wondering what transmac? Means

to put it simply; Transmac (or transmasculine) is someone that's AFAB (assigned female at birth) whose gender identity and/or an expression of masculinity but not 100% a male

the simplest difference between transman and transmac is, transmac can be used for transman, AFAB who identify with masculinity, and some non-binary people. transman is some that's afab that identifies as a male

i hope that helps ! let me know if you have more questions

[axetivev]

absolute cinema 💥💥

STUDY ME

pairing: perfect student! male OC x male reader [faceclaim]

synopsis: No one’s ever ranked higher than Haruki Mikage—until you do. You’re new, unsettlingly smart, and partnered with him for a major project. Haruki’s trying to stay composed, but your odd habits, offhanded comments, and freakish talent in the kitchen are messing with his head. He should’ve ignored you. He doesn’t.

content warnings : 18+, academic rivals to something else, reader is creepy-smart and says weird shit unprovoked, golden boy Haruki smokes under pressure, slow burn with freaky tension, blowjob at the end of ch1 (reader giving), reader’s thoughts are not normal, shared trauma over academic excellence, high-school setting, light humiliation kink energy, some bullying, borderline-obsessive chemistry, they’re both unwell but in different fonts. also: the project does get submitted on time. barely.

word count: 3.4k

The paper wasn’t even all the way up on the board before someone in the hallway let out a low whistle.

“Yo, he’s not first anymore.”

The teacher pressed the last corner of the sheet flat against the corkboard with her palm, used a pin to anchor it in place. She stepped back. The crowd surged forward.

Haruki Mikage didn’t move from his desk.

He didn’t have to. He already knew what it said.

He’d been top-ranked every semester since middle school—longer, if you counted the city-wide assessments and mock entrance exams his mother used to post on the fridge like they were participation ribbons. Everyone knew his name. They whispered it before exams, hated him for it after. Professors adored him. Classmates tolerated him. His grades were a forgone conclusion.

But still, there was that whistle.

That murmur again.

The skin between his shoulder blades prickled with something unfamiliar.

He’s not first anymore.

He set his pen down.

Someone pressed a palm to the open door. “Mikage.”

Haruki looked up.

It was Kinoshita from 2-A. Always too loud, always too nosey.

“There’s a new name up there,” Kinoshita said, eyes wide, half in disbelief and half in that messy kind of glee people reserved for perfect students slipping. “You’re second.”

Haruki blinked once.

Kinoshita grinned. “They only wrote the family name. No one knows who it is yet.”

Haruki didn’t answer. He just turned back to his notebook and wrote the date in the top right corner. Kinoshita lingered in the doorway a second longer, waiting for something. A reaction. A twitch. Even a shrug.

He got nothing.

Haruki didn’t even look bothered.

But the tip of his pen was pressed too hard into the paper. Ink pooling.

∘₊✧

He didn’t go look at the list.

Not during lunch, not after school. Everyone else swarmed the board. The hall smelled like shoe rubber and shampoo and stress. A few people snapped photos. One girl squealed. Someone muttered your last name and said, “It has to be a mistake.”

It wasn’t.

Your name was written in blocky black print above Haruki’s, the gap between your scores barely two digits wide—but it was enough. It was real.

You weren’t in his class last year. No one knew who you were. You didn’t even have a photo in the club yearbook. No whispers, no rumors, no posts online. Just a name no one recognized and a score too high to ignore.

That should’ve been the end of it.

One test. One fluke.

People were curious, but curiosity burned out fast here. Unless you were someone interesting, someone visible, someone like Haruki—nobody lasted more than a few weeks before fading back into academic noise.

Except you didn’t fade. You didn’t do anything. You just existed in the background.

Quiet. Distant. Present. Like static. Like a blank space on a page that never stopped drawing the eye.

He should’ve forgotten it.

But your name kept coming up—softly, between other people’s conversations. No one knew where you were from. Or why your name was never on any club roster. Or what kind of person beat Haruki Mikage and then refused to show their face.

Someone in class said you were weird. That you mumbled to yourself. That you drew creepy shit in the corners of your worksheet margins and then never turned them in.

Another said you laughed in the middle of a chemistry lecture, and no one knew why.

Someone else said they saw you eating cold rice balls under the gym stairs, headphones on, eyes closed, mouthing the words to something that didn’t exist.

None of that made sense.

None of it matched the clean, precise writing next to the top score on the midterm report.

But Haruki remembered it anyway.

∘₊✧

The first time he saw you was two weeks later.

There was no grand entrance. You just walked in a little after the second bell, half-zipped jacket, hair a mess, notebooks clutched to your chest like a bribe.

Haruki was already seated. Already organised. Already done with the warm-up quiz.

You didn’t look at him.

You walked past him, past everyone, and sat in the back corner of the room by the window. The only desk that hadn’t been claimed.

You slumped down. Dropped your bag. Took out a pencil that had bite marks in it and started copying notes from the board with a half-lidded stare.

Haruki stared. He couldn’t help it.

There were no rumours about how you looked—no pictures online, no Instagram stories. But this wasn’t what he expected.

You weren’t particularly neat. Or polished. Your uniform didn’t fit right, like it had been ironed two days ago and then slept in. Your fingers were ink-stained. Your collar slightly crooked.

You were pretty. But in a way that felt… accidental. Or wrong. Like a painting flipped upside down.

There was something strange about your face. Or maybe your mouth. It looked like it wanted to smile, but didn’t know how.

You looked up once during the lecture. Your eyes met his.

Then you winked.

Haruki turned back to his textbook immediately, his throat dry.

He didn’t look at you again for the rest of the period.

But he felt you looking.

∘₊✧

The class project was announced the next week.

“Pairs of two,” the teacher said, holding up a glass bowl with folded slips inside. “We’re going to assign them randomly. You’ll have three weeks to put your presentations together. Graded on both content and performance.”

She walked between rows with the bowl.

Haruki reached in, pulled a number: 9.

He waited patiently while the others filed through their slips. Then your name was called.

You pulled yours out. Paused. Tapped it twice against your palm.

You looked right at him when you said, “Nine.”

Haruki’s fingers twitched around his pen.

∘₊✧

He didn’t say anything until after class.

You were still packing up, slow and disorganised. You dropped your folder and didn’t bother to pick up half the papers that slid out. A few had doodles in the margins. They looked like vines. Or veins.

“Haruki Mikage,” he said.

You blinked up at him, surprised. “Yeah?”

He stared. Then, “That’s my name.”

You tilted your head.

“I know,” you said. “You're the guy with the stupidly perfect eyebrows.”

He stared harder.

You reached for your bag, smiling faintly. “Are we gonna start working on this project, or are you gonna keep staring at me like I just spit in your bento?”

Haruki didn’t respond.

You laughed softly—barely audible. Like you hadn’t meant to do it.

Then you leaned forward and whispered, “You always look like you’re trying not to judge me. It’s okay. You can. It makes your mouth look sharper.”

His stomach twisted. He stepped back.

You turned and walked off like nothing happened.

Like you hadn’t just said the first thing that’s ever made him lose his breath.

∘₊✧

The two of you met for the first study session in the back corner of the library, because, of course, you suggested it, and of course, Haruki said yes, even though it went against his better judgment, instincts, and every fibre of his tightly-wound existence.

“This is where the ghosts live,” you said, dropping your bag to the floor and immediately sitting cross-legged on the chair. “They’re chill, though. As long as you don’t read anything out loud in Latin.”

Haruki blinked at you over the top of his textbook. “I don’t read Latin,” he said flatly.

You grinned. “That’s good. You’ve got exorcism hands, not summoning hands.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It’s a compliment.” It didn’t sound like one. But also—it kind of did?

You kicked your leg a little, humming under your breath. Then you reached over and grabbed his pen. Didn’t even ask. Just took it. Twirled it between your fingers like a wand and said, “Alright, Harvard. Let’s get this nerd orgy started.”

“…Excuse me?”

You looked at him innocently. “You’re telling me you don’t think studying is a group kink?”

Haruki did not dignify that with a response.

You leaned back in your seat and tilted your head, staring at him like you were taking inventory of something beneath his skin. Then:

“Have you always been like this?”

“…Like what?”

“Like a boy who was genetically engineered to be the president of every club. Like a human version of whatever’s in those vitamin gummies for your brain.”

Haruki frowned, flipping to the next page of the syllabus. “And you’ve always been like this?”

“Unfortunately,” you replied, deadpan. “I tried being normal once. Got a nosebleed.”

He didn’t believe a single word out of your mouth.

He also couldn’t stop looking at you.

Not in the overt, obvious way. Just… his eyes kept landing on the curve of your neck when you tilted your head back to think. Or the way your lips moved when you mouthed words to yourself under your breath. You chewed your pen sometimes, distractedly. 

You had a pretty mouth. Haruki wondered what it would feel like around his fingers.

You tapped your fingers against your leg in a rhythm he couldn’t decipher. You made references he didn’t understand.

“Did you know Freud had a raging thing for eels?”

“…What?”

“He dissected like so many of them. Never found the testes. Drove him insane. I feel like you’re my eel.”

Haruki slowly set his pen down.

“I’m… what.”

“I don’t get you,” you said, voice lighter. Not teasing now. Just honest. “You’re like this shiny, polished, student council-approved perfection android. But then you make these tiny expressions when no one’s looking. Like you’re pissed. Or bored. Or like you wanna scream into a pillow for eight hours.”

He stared. Speechless.

You tilted your head again. “Have you ever screamed into a pillow?”

“No,” he said slowly, carefully. “Have you?”

You smiled. “Only when someone's on top of me.”

Haruki’s brain short-circuited for a second.

You opened your notebook like you hadn’t just dropped a sentence that would require him to pray afterwards. “Okay, let’s start with the thesis breakdown. We can decide if you wanna present or I wanna present, but either way, I get to say the weird part.”

“There’s… a weird part?”

“There’s always a weird part,” you said, eyes sparkling. “It’s the whole point of writing anything. Gotta add the bite.”

He didn’t know what you meant, but his pulse ticked up anyway.

You worked surprisingly well together.

You were smart. Not just academically, but weird smart. You pulled random quotes from obscure films, recalled footnotes Haruki had skimmed past, and made connections he hadn’t even considered. And the worst part was—your instincts were always right.

You were completely unserious about your own reputation, but deadly serious about the work. Which meant that Haruki—perfectionist, ruthless, prideful Haruki—couldn’t even hate you for beating him.

All he could do was sit across from you while you explained why you thought the author used soil erosion as a metaphor for emotional decay and pretend his leg wasn’t bouncing under the table.

When the session ended, you leaned over his side of the desk to grab your drink—and stayed there.

You were too close.

Too casual.

Your hair was a little messy. Your breath smelled like melon soda and mints. And when you pulled away, you laughed like you knew exactly what you were doing.

“I’ll text you,” you said, swinging your bag over one shoulder. “Unless you’d prefer I send smoke signals from the roof.”

“I don’t have your number.”

You blinked.

“Oh. Right.”

You held your hand out. Palm up. Waiting.

Haruki hesitated. Then handed over his phone.

You typed something fast, then handed it back.

The name you saved in his contacts wasn’t your name.

It just said: [threat level: weirdly hot]

He didn’t correct it.

∘₊✧

Haruki stepped out onto the rooftop with his blazer slung over his shoulder, tie loosened just enough not to look sloppy. He didn’t really care if people saw the cigarette between his fingers — nobody ever said anything. Not to him. It was the kind of privilege that came with being him.

Top grades. National mock test finalist. MVP of the volleyball team. Editor of the student journal. The golden boy. Your mother’s favorite. Your teacher’s pride. The one who always knew the answer but never rubbed it in.

And here he was, burning through his second cigarette of the afternoon, hoping it would quiet the spinning in his head.

He hated that it didn’t.

The shouting started before he even made it down the last step.

“Why don’t you just eat somewhere else?” someone hissed.

“I’m not in the mood to deal with this freak show today—seriously, you always pick the corner seat like it’s your kingdom or something.”

Haruki’s foot hit the bottom stair.

He knew that voice. Loud. Entitled. A second-year student from the basketball team who walked around like he owned the school just because he had abs and rich parents. The group around him laughed, but it sounded more like barking.

You were sitting alone, lunch in your lap, face unreadable. Picking at your rice like you couldn’t hear them.

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t look up. But your hands had gone still.

Haruki’s voice cut in before he could think about it.

“You talk a lot for someone that far below average,” he said flatly.

Silence.

The air shifted.

The guy whipped around, only to pale when he saw Haruki standing there, jacket off, sleeves rolled, cigarette still burning between his fingers.

Haruki didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.

“Keep walking,” he added.

The group scattered. No one apologised. No one even made eye contact. They just fled, like hyenas realising the lion hadn’t left after all.

You glanced up at him with a half-smile. “Wow. My hero.”

“You shouldn’t let them get to you.”

“I don’t.” You popped a cherry tomato into your mouth. “I just added them to the list.”

“…What list.”

You didn’t answer. You just chewed and smiled.

∘₊✧

Later that week.

You opened the door in a loose black T-shirt and grey sweatpants, hair wet from a shower and sticking to your forehead in damp, clinging strands. You looked cosy in a way that made Haruki’s lungs feel too tight.

“You made it,” you said, stepping aside to let him in. “Wanna see something cool?”

Haruki followed you in, expecting weird posters, weird books, and maybe an Ouija board or something.

What he didn’t expect was—

The kitchen.

Clean. Lived-in. There was a wooden cutting board already dusted with flour. Soy sauce, mirin, and sesame oil lined up neatly on the counter. A cast iron pot simmering quietly on the stove, steam curling like the first exhale of a ghost.

You tied an apron around your waist and turned slightly. “Sit.”

He did.

The scent was unreal.

Rich and savoury. Ginger and garlic blooming in oil, followed by a splash of sake and the quiet crackle of meat hitting the pan. Chicken thighs, if he wasn’t mistaken—bone-in, skin crisping in real time as you basted it with soy and sugar.

The sauce thickened into a lacquered glaze, caramel-dark and glistening. You flipped the pieces with casual precision, face calm in a way he’d never seen in class. Focused. Almost elegant.

You weren’t speaking. Just humming. A low, tuneless little rhythm under your breath.

He watched the way your fingers moved—quick and practised as you sliced scallions into fine curls, sprinkled furikake over the steaming rice. You moved like you lived in the kitchen, like it wasn’t a performance.

The food was simple, but the kind of simple that only comes from knowing what you're doing. Like you’d made this a hundred times for someone you cared about.

No one had ever cooked for Haruki before.

He didn’t realise how tightly he was gripping the edge of the chair until you set the plate in front of him and the smell hit him like a memory he didn’t have.

He blinked. “This is…”

“Chicken nanban,” you said. “I made the tartar sauce from scratch.”

Haruki picked up his chopsticks, swallowed something thick in his throat, and took a bite.

The chicken cracked at the surface, still hot enough to burn, still sweet from the soy and vinegar glaze. The homemade tartar had bits of pickles and onion, just sharp enough to cut through the richness. The rice underneath had soaked up some of the sauce, sticky and warm.

It was stupidly good.

He kept eating quietly. You sat down beside him with your own plate and started scrolling through your phone, legs tucked up under you.

“Why do you know how to cook like this?” he asked finally.

You shrugged. “I like taking care of things.”

“…People?”

“Depends,” you said, tone lazy. “You wanna be taken care of?”

He looked at you. You didn’t look up.

The silence between you stretched like sugar—warm, sticky, slow.

He put his chopsticks down.

You turned to him.

And smiled.

Haruki wasn’t sure what he expected your room to look like, but it wasn’t this.

Simple, mostly. Clean. A little lived-in. The walls were bare except for a stack of books pushed into a crooked shelf, a futon folded neatly in one corner, and a secondhand desk with a few pens left uncapped. A soft hum filled the silence — maybe a fan from the hall or the fridge ticking quietly through the wall.

You tossed your bag down and sat on the floor like you didn’t feel the shift in the air. Haruki did. His skin felt too tight. The space between your bodies suddenly felt loaded.

“So this is where you hide,” he said, trying to sound casual.

You looked at him. Really looked at him. Then shrugged.

“I like quiet,” you murmured. “It’s hard to find in school.”

Haruki didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything at all.

You watched him for a long beat, then patted the space in front of you.

“C’mere.”

He hesitated. You raised a brow. And then he moved — sat down across from you with crossed legs and a heart that wouldn’t stop thudding.

You didn’t touch him at first. Just stared. Haruki stared back. He wasn’t used to that, either — being looked at like he was something to be read, not admired. It made him feel strange. Exposed.

“Haruki,” you said, voice softer now, almost uncertain. “Do you ever stop thinking?”

His mouth opened — then closed. He didn’t have an answer.

You leaned in, slow like a question. Gave him time to stop it.

He didn’t.

So you kissed him.

Just once, at first — a slow press, the kind that didn’t demand anything. Then again, this time deeper. Haruki inhaled sharply, hands hovering like he wasn’t sure where to put them. You pulled back only slightly.

“You can touch me.”

The words were soft. Not teasing. Just an offer.

Haruki’s fingers found your shoulders, then your jaw, then finally threaded into your hair like it made sense.

You kissed him again.

And again.

Until you shifted, pushed gently at his chest. He leaned back onto his elbows, lips parted, breath shaky. You sank to your knees in front of him, palms brushing the hem of his shirt.

He watched, stunned, as your hands moved with practised ease — unbuttoning, unzipping, until he was bare from the waist down. The air was cool against his erection. Your breath was warm.

“Wait—” he managed, voice a little broken. “Are you… sure?”

You looked up at him with the faintest smile.

“Very.”

And then you lowered your head.

The first touch of your mouth on his cock made his breath stutter. He’d never—no one had ever—

He clutched at the sheets beneath him, back arching slightly. You didn’t rush. Just took him in slow, deep, unhurried. Your hands on his thighs kept him steady, kept him grounded.

Haruki didn’t know where to look. Your lips, your eyelashes, the ceiling — nothing helped. His brain was static.

You hummed against him, the vibration sending a full-body shiver up his spine.

“Fuck,” he gasped, hands fisting the blanket. “That—wait—don’t—”

But he didn’t want you to stop. Not really. And you knew that.

You pulled back just long enough to whisper, “It’s okay. You can let go.”

And when he did, it was quiet.

His jaw went slack. His head tipped back. Your name curled off his tongue like something reverent. He was shaking.

You swallowed, slow and clean, and wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumb.

Then you looked up at him.

Smiled like it was just another Tuesday.

“You taste like stress and bad decisions.”

Haruki lay there, bare and ruined, heartbeat in his throat.

You stood, grabbed your water bottle, and stretched like a cat.

“Wanna stay for dinner?”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

Taglist: @axetivev @yyuinaa @zaynesyumei @sageofspades @onyxmango @puccigucii @the-ultimate-librarian @sooobiinn @sooniebby @i2innie @tintenka1@timaas-blog @darlinqvi @horrorsbeyondreality @rednugget @lysanderplume @leron1108 @kauo-writez @the0ishere @calgurl @kissenturine @bleedingbl0ssom @gayaristocrat @hyppernovva [comment to be added, or send an ask]

[axetivev]

🎭 — an idea of an oc... so both of them are in highschool. so it's an innocent reader & pervy class president, ah... let's not forget it's doomed. :) (this idea suddenly came when I listen to おつかれSUMMER, the meaning for the song is different from the plot but hear me out)

Oc name ; Min Ji-Yeong

angst + smut

translate:

halmeoni (할머니) : A formal way to call grandmother

People say high school was the best time. But you dare to disagree. It's absolute hell.

Working multiple odd jobs to help with halmeoni's medical bills. Your parents just straight up abandoned you for drinking and drugs, helping halmeoni with house work and then during a supposedly happy January, she was now in the hospital fighting her life. It doesn't matter how much she scolded you for leaving school for her, she's the only one who waited for you.

School was hell... since your grades dropped significantly, many kids bullied you for having such low grades. Their words haunt you when you wait for halmeoni in the hospital... only a 50? you're an embarrassment, [Name]! our average is 95... you're pathetic huh?

Now, since summer is coming. You can spend more time with halmeoni! But the problem? You failed your exam. The lowest at 43... you're tired. You wanted to cry... everything hurts, those insults and how they physically bully you and the teachers made no effort to help? Ah... shit. But you can't cry now, you sat alone in the empty classroom... many kids were already home. The red mark of 43 taunted you, the door of your class then opened the moment you were about to rip the paper.

Min Ji-Yeong.

Class president? Student Council? Smart? Rich as fuck? He stole everything. He's basically what girls are looking for, you remembered the girls of your class were circling to his desk during Valentine's day, being nosy and gossiping about everything. Ji-Yeong walked to the desk in front of you, he turned back—your eyes met with his. You expected he'd maybe mock you or something similar to that, instead. You saw concern in his eyes.

"Everything good at home?" He asked, you lied by nodding. But Ji-Yeong hated that answer. With one hand, he cupped your cheeks. "I hate liars, [Name]."

He was genuinely mad, and he cared. Why? You're nothing but just a so-called "troublemaker" because of your horrible grades. "I'll tutor you."

You looked dumbfounded at this statement. But you sighed, as if you brushed his concern. "Ji-Yeong, summer is coming... There's no such need as a tutoring session—" "I insisted."

His words sounded firm, making you shut up for a few good minutes. But when you're about to deny him—he shook his head. The class president shook his head. He looked pissed off by the passing second...

"You can pay me in other ways." Ji-Yeong sighed, he leaned back from his desk. You look at him dumbfounded, until Ji-Yeong points at his pants, you see a tent forming. You just look at him with a dumber expression.

"...What do you want me to do?" You asked, Ji-Yeong slapped himself in the face, dumb but cute... he had to learn self-control. Ji-Yeong pointed you to knee down, his hand slowly made its way to the back of your head. Pulling you forward as he used his free hand to unzip his pants.

His dick—cock—whatever it was called was in front of you, its shadow hovering over your face before it slapped down to your face. So many emotions mixed into you, well. Specifically; what highschooler need a dick this big?? But Ji-Yeong tapped his thighs, you jolted and used your mouth to give him a blowjob. You're a virgin... absolutely zero shit on what you're doing. But Ji-Yeong seems to enjoy it.

Since you don't know anything about the world of sex, you gagged by handling his cock. But Ji-Yeong pushed your head until you felt his tip was on your throat, where you then felt warmth, you immediately pulled out from his shaft as you coughed. You coughed out white liquid. Ji-Yeong and you both looked down at the substance, you gagged while he looked almost amused.

"Can you give me another—" "N–No!"

Since that day, you and Ji-Yeong got closer, even if the summer came and you took more of your time taking care of your halmeoni, he seemed like often helped you even though he didn't have to... you often find some of her treatments were already paid by an anonymous person you automatically guess is Ji-Yeong.

He also often came to some of your jobs to keep an eye on you, even after the many times you told him you'd be fine... but there's something in his eyes that said something; he isn't just waiting for you until your work is over. It's almost like he was trying to spend his final moments with you, but why? You don't really know. Ji-Yeong might as well be lonely at home, right? He sometimes vented to you during your tutoring sessions about loneliness...

It doesn't matter how popular he was, he'll always be lonely. But you kept insuring him that you are still with him! That, until he invited you to go on a beach together after you took care of halmeoni, Ji-Yeong somehow already told her that he will bring you to go out to the beach. It's late but he insisted... so you just go with it. Going to the beach at night felt weird, since you barely felt such experience. But it still felt nice!

Ji-Yeong gave you a firework, a sparkler. Even if the beach was mostly empty, the sparkler from you and Ji-Yeong light up the dark world. You grinned as the sparkler lit up, the sparkler's shape was on your eyes, it's beautiful... chaotic but amazing to look up close. Oh, how much he wanted to watch this until the fate of death intertwined him, but there's something he forgot...

He's going to leave soon. He'll have to leave you for the sake of his parents' work. But just how would he solve it? Ji-Yeong can't just... leave you.

[axetivev]

i just realized... wow

thank you very much for everyone's support ! (i didn't expect to get 600 on my day off too, help?) i wouldn't have reached this limit without all of you, and i'm grateful for this !! thank you to everyone who reads and reblog my works !!

[axetivev]

hi i just read your recent sukuna fic [ King of Curse's bride ] and noticed many grammatical errors 😭 assuming that english isn't your first language, i'd advise you to proof read your fics or have someone with a better understanding of english to proof read you work for you, it would make it easier for readers! i'm not trying to hate, just offering some constructive criticism so i hope you won't take this to heart. but i really enjoyed the plot and understood the vision of your story! thank you!

no, seriously. if there's any errors in my works feel free to correct me ! yes—english isn't my first language so i really don't mind if people see grammar mistakes, therefore. thank you for the reminder !

[axetivev]

so um, haii. I LOVE YOUR SUKUNA WORKS!!! IT'S LITTERLY MAKING ME CRYINGGGGG (beautiful works, love it <3)

-ver🦋

glad you do ! :) it's semi-rushed but i'm still glad you and everyone liked it !

[axetivev]

— Summary: Being nothing other than a servant for the Ishikawa clan, even though they treated you horribly. You took care of their heirs. Even if the king of curses came. Ryomen Sukuna's first plan was to kill everyone in the clan... But he found a bride instead!

— Warnings/Tags: Smut + Fluff + Angst, Mentioned of Violence, Blood, Reader died (I'm sorry not sorry), Feminization, Sukuna has Two Dicks, Jealous Sukuna, Nipple Play, BDSM (Shibari), Double Penetration, Degradation (?). Belly Bulge, Self-insert Reader.

— Words: 3.5k

— A/N: tbh i haven't thought of this idea but shout out to @carnalcrows for asking this to be a fic. [here's the idea if you're curious -> 🎭] there's new shits i add because why not, this in semi-rushed. i'm not really in the mood to do anything these past few days... but i promised I'll deliver the Thief x King reader idea. welp, that's it from me. i hope you enjoyed this fic !!!

— Pairing: Heain Era!Ryomen Sukuna x Male!Reader

Being a servant for the Ishikawa clan sure is a work. How couldn't be?

You work for the rest of your days. Not to mentioned, the people of the clan were assholes, morons… abandoning everything and anyone if they had power, extremely thirst for power. You often avoid handling with the older folks, so you mainly dealing with the kids—heirs. You teach them humanity, something their supposed “guardian” never gave them.

Even if you can’t use curse techniques yourself, you teach them swordsmanship. Giving them attention that they barely obtained other then told that they were just a tool. It was nice to know that they would still had a child heart even you knew when they got older—they were no different with the elders. Until, that day.

In the middle of the night, after an exhausting day of serving the elderly. You were somehow able to take a break. Even though it was a quick nap and nothing much, but it’s better then never. You slowly rosed from your sheets. Right as you about to tidy up, you heard a scream—a scream of horror and terror.

You glanced at the door that showed a glimpse of what happened, you saw a figure—210 cm tall. His eyes were four, that information alone was enough to think of one thing; Ryomen Sukuna. The kids of Ishikawa once told you about him, a blood thirsty sorcerer and his description matched.

You don’t know what’s going on inside your head. You just wanted to make sure that the kids would be alright—you didn’t care if they became a good heir or not. You just wanted them to be… save. You rushed to where the kids’ room was, holding a katana in hand. Thankfully, the king of curses was in his way—just in the right amount of time when you finally made it to the door, defending the wood with your left hand.

Sukuna looked down at you, well. He was abit too tall for an average male, he saw your right hand gripping the black tsuka. Your face somehow didn’t even show fear when your hand clearly trembled, but he doesn’t knew why. Sukuna’s four eyes were look down at you, his upper right arm slowly gripped blade of your katana—lowering it.

Confusion was written all over your face—Sukuna bore into you, with his lower arms grabbing your waist as he then throw you over his shoulder. Walking away from the door, where you saw the kids looked relieved and terrified.

“You damn—!” “Shut it, brat.” Sukuna spat, as he walk with a… white haired human?

That shut you up quickly, but you squirm. Hitting the back of the Sorcerer’s back, even if didn’t do much. You look forward to look for the kids, the adult there—you can’t see it clearly. But they seemed to have disgust written on their face, it’s not because of Sukuna.

But… you?

A frown form on your face, is it because of you just, didn’t try to fight back? Or what it because you spend too much time with the kids and they prefer you over their parents? You honestly had many questions. But thank to Sukuna’s large hand spanking your ass when you were on the gate of the Ishikawa clan.

“Stop thinking about them.” Sukuna said, as if he read your mind, you froze as you felt his hand rough fingers trying to sooth your cheeks.

Sukuna narrowed his eyes at your back, you turned your head in confusion by why did he stop moving. His lower arm grabbed your back knee, while the other on your back, trying to make you stable. Sukuna’s other lower hand was on your back, carrying you in bridal style, your arms were slowly and awkwardly wrapped around his neck.

“You’ll be my bride from now on.” Sukuna said, it’s not an ask. That’s a command.

The word “bride” was weird to you, but you were honestly too scared what would fate do to you if you didn’t agreed to what he said. So you nodded, hiding your face over the King of Curses' chest (what does this man even do to make it this big?). Sukuna, again. Look at you, making you squirm under his grasp. But he shrugged, continued to walk with the same white haired human.

Uraume.

That was their name. After your wedding with a few amounts of sorcerers which, you noted looked terrified most of the time during the ceremony. In your now home, for now, you spent most of your time with Uraume.

The minka you currently lived in is quite big, but average from an average sorcerer’s home. In the middle of the forest. But it had a small garden in the inside and in the back, it was close to a river with fishes swimming to the clear water, and some Baikamos, White lilies… it was surprising how clean the water was, Uraume would often company you when you admired the beauty of the waters in the river. They admitted; “He asked me to watch you.” Which you imagine it was Sukuna asking them to do so.

When Sukuna was home, Uraume will usually gone in the speed of light. You swore, they were beside you before the the king of curses came. Well, you don’t know if it’s normal or not. You already cleaned the house with Uraume, the sun was slowly loosed it’s shine as the moon rose. You saw him—he was in front of you, and weirdly enough. You didn’t find him scary in any sort of way. Just nervous.

“Is there… something wrong with me?” Sukuna heard your nervousness, he let out a sigh. Shaking your head, he saw you tilting your confusion. Until he finally grunted, his lower arm holding your wrist. “Let’s go out.”

His voice was sharp—but you somehow heard a softness in it, weird that someone like Ryomen Sukuna to be able to had a little softness, you sighed as you shook your head amusingly. Arguing with him seemed to lead to absolute nowhere. So, you followed along.

Your destination was lead to the same river behind the house. The flowers there were more then expected. Baikamo was blooming, white lilies looked like they’d shined the dark night. But your eyes landed on the Hasu flowers. You liked them, it’s white, pure and simply beautiful. Sukuna was watching you from a distant which you failed to realize because of your enthusiasm with flowers.

Sukuna’s four eyes looked at you, his arms crossed—the Hasu flowers and your face showed something that tugged some strings in his heart, in a good way.

The way you smiled kills him, the way you just happily looked at flowers like you never seen them in your existence, even if it's just a day after the wedding. He realizes something fast—instant. Ryomen Sukuna, a suppose special grade sorcerer, picked up a random man and decided to make him his bride, he thought you are the one falling for him hard. Instead, he was the one falling for you, harder.

“[Name]…” Sukuna muttered your name—as if he tested the waters, he saw you turning your head. Titling your head in confusion, but still, a smile played on your lips.

“…Yeah?” Fuck, your voice—sounds too good. If the Heain Era had something technological, he’d record that voice of yours and then listen to your voice and masturbate.

Sukuna stayed silent, his eyes flickered between the Hasu flowers and you. Pure, handsome, innocent… and it’s all for him. Forever.

Forever? You and me?

It had been weeks since that day, you now found Sukuna more often in the house. Therefore, making you cleaned the house while making sure it was nearly spotless. You knew Sukuna liked eating humans, once. You asked what he liked other then human’s flesh, which. His answer was straight to the point; “Figure it out yourself.”

It annoyed you with a burning passion. But you’d shrugged, leaving you asking for Uraume which they only said human flesh. Eventually, this leaving you by asking random sorcerers to hunt for random animals in the wild. Seeing their face turned to pale isn’t what you really thought of, but you often feel something—someone was watching you from a distance.

And after you asked a sorcerer to hunt form something—anything really. He never came back like how it suppose to be, it questioned you, but you can conclude that it may be caused of the harsh rain that suddenly came without a warning. Sitting on the engawa of the minka, the sound of thunder and rain echoed from the distance. The sky was covered by gray and waters already dropping from the gray clouds.

“[Name].” Uraume called, you watched as they stood in front of the door. “Sukuna is looking for you.”

You gave Uraume and polite nod as you walked your way to your room, well. Eyeballing that you thought Sukuna was in your room, and you were right. You saw a hand—Sukuna’s exact hand coming from the wooden door, you walked right in front of the door as that hand dragged you in—thr door behind you immediately closed shut without a way out.

Sukuna stood in front of you menacingly—you studied him, his very expression and movements. Sure, he looks bigger up close, but you never seen him so close before. The mouth on his stomach gritting it’s teeth, the urge to just punch his stomach was unreal—“Why did you ask those sorcerers to do those things?”

“…Those things?” You echoed, genuinely confused by Sukuna’s question. “Ah, asking those sorcerers to hunt for—”

Sukuna huffed, his expression hardened, his upper arm—its hand wrapped tightly around your wrist. “Can’t you asked for your husband’s help, at the very least!?” He snapped, his voice was loud enough to made you shut up. “I let you walk in this world still alive, I’m here now more often, can’t you just ask me for help? What? You scared?”

His face was actually showing anger. You? Ah, dumbfounded. Honestly, you motives of doing so is because of wanting to surprised Sukuna—not to get him angry, but you found out something new that’s a mixed of something laughable, stupid somewhat concerning.

The king of curses? Jealous of other sorcerers? You held back a laugh by bitting your lip, you raised your hand up to a fist. With a light force, you hit Sukuna’s head with your hand. Like those arcade games where you had to hit animals to get scores, Sukuna didn’t looked amused when you finally laughed your ass off. Crying over the fact he was jealous over humans—sorcerers he can beat without even doing much.

“[Name], it’s unacceptable,” Sukuna said firmly, his grip over your wrist tightened. “I hope it’s not considered rushing to do this.

“I hope it’s not considered rushing to do this.”

Sukuna’s voice—that exact words of his echoed in your head as you were tied by Uraume themselves. They didn’t looked surprised or in any some sort of embarrassment as red ropes circling your naked body. The texture was rough… it felt somewhat comfortable, but it didn’t really hurt your skin as much. Not for now.

When you came out from the next room, in ropes, your arms on your back, it felt fucking uncomfortable. But Uraume said earlier it was Sukuna who requested it and it’s his idea. Not theirs, your dick flopped down sadly. Sukuna, who was sitting comfortably on the bed, he uncrossed his upper arm, using his fingers. Sukuna called you forward with a simple command, you stood between the king of curses’ thighs. His fucking huge thighs.

Sukuna didn’t looked up, his fingers found their to your bare chest he soon enough called tits. He didn’t even hesitate to pulled the bud, making you gasp out of Sukuna’s boldness. His fingers then circled your areola, before gently switching your nipples.

“You humans are sensitive when it comes to this,” Sukuna spat out, he then leaned forward, his teeth catching your already hard buds. “It’s embarrassing.”

His tongue went all in to your left nipple, his slimy tongue was circling your nipple again… rougher. Sukuna left a bite over your bud, your whimpers was music to his ears. He seems to be neutral about it, but deep down. He knew he was a stupid freak under the title “King of Curses”.

His lower hand mover their way down—rubbing your ass, you looked back to then flinched feeling Sukuna’s thumb rubbing your entrance, how big was that? You don’t know neither wanting to know. Your hands grabbed his shoulder when Sukuna inserted his middle finger—soon his index. It hurts if you can be honest, does sex feel like this? Really you don’t now, but it slightly feel good. That’s a plus, right?

Two fingers fucking you wide—Sukuna’s tongue moved to your other nipple. Both sensation made your dick erect and legs trembling. Hot breaths escaped your lips that reached to Sukuna’s ears, he then brushed over your prostate which let out a loud gasp out of you, he pulled his fingers out, you whined by the lost. You finally looked back at Sukuna who didn’t seemed to look impress at your expression; a whiny bitch who just begged to be breed.

Sukuna flicked his tongue as he made you sat in his thighs, he opened up a bottle and poured something similar to a voice like oil, you about to turned your head but Sukuna smashed your face against his chest. You felt something rubbing against your hole before something huge was slammed inside of you.

Guess Sukuna’s fingers did something…

Your eyes were watery—he didn’t even moved. Not yet, but you felt so full. Sukuna ignored your whines, he simply slammed his hips up, a whimper escaped your throat. Soon, that one slam turned into many thrusted. Your hands clawed his back, Sukuna’s lower arms captured your waist. While his upper hand kept playing with your red erect nipples.

“What? Does it hurt?” Sukuna faked a cooed, your hole tightened. He laughed at your pathetic state. “It’s just one cock. You haven’t feel both of them.”

You grit your teeth, Sukuna entered his thumb, forcefully letting his second cock in. But he’s kind enough to stop his pace and letting you adjust. Yeah, you’re too full for this. One was making you full, but both? Yeah…

Sukuna gripped your waist—right as he tried to thrust his hips, cum filled your tight puffy hole. He couldn’t like, it caught him off guard to reached his climax early, but he’ll definitely deny that it’s because your hole feel good. Sukuna looked down to your stomach, the visible bulge amused him. The fact that you can still take both of his dicks cumming inside of you sure made him interested.

He studied your expression—your fucked up face, his hand gently touching the tip of your cock, making pre-cums. Sukuna dragged his upper right hand, gently taking your own hand to intertwined your fingers together, like blood and heart. Unable to be separated. Sukuna didn’t say much, but he simply leaving kisses all over your jaw as he now gently thrust his hips upwards.

He isn’t satisfied… Fuck. Poor hole.

Now Sukuna insisted of brining you everywhere…

Even if Sukuna met other sorcerers, he’ll always bring you. Leaving you often helping him while Sukuna himself tried to not go insane when you’re next to him, neither him trying to kill the other sorcerers who linger their gaze at you. Well, that’s most on your part to hold him back to do so.

And you, being his wife—husband. Usually got your payment too! Eating… asking Sukuna to do the work instead, and most importantly, the river. Sukuna was now more often beside you as you admire the waters, it’s honestly a reason for him to loved everything about you, worship you, loving you, really. Just about everything. Thanks to that too, he now barely killed clans for food, And till now. You questioned yourself neither it was a bad thing or good thing.

But everything doesn’t last forever. That, was what Sukuna always forget to remember.

Mornings was always filled by you and Sukuna walking together for a morning walk, it was calming. The birds are singing and the air was fresh, everything was perfect. Since, today. Sukuna doesn’t had anything busy going on, spending time with his husband sounds like a good idea. Isn’t it? Walking together inside of a forest side by side, your face was the only thing that kept Sukuna entertained.

“Sukuna,” the name owner turned his head directly at you. The way his name runs on your lips nearly made his heart stopped. You then pointed at a bird that was singing happily. “It looked pretty, don’t you think?”

Sukuna stared at the bird that’s in front of his very own eyes. He’d just kill the poor fellow on the spot, but the way you looked at it with those lively eyes, he nodded. “Indeed…”

“Can we… have it?” You looked at him with a grin on your lips. “Please~?”

He didn’t seemed to be amused, rather. Sukuna pinched your cheek. “[Name], there’s already many wild creatures at home.”

His answer isn’t enough, you grabbed his palm. With such innocent and… sex eyes, you begged Sukuna. It was a silent beg which usually doesn’t work, but seems like he can’t take it anymore. Sukuna rubbed his face, looking at you as a sigh of defeat escaped from his lips. Giving you an approving nod, your eyes lit up as you carelessly run to the tree where the bird still hummed.

Sukuna kept his eyes on you from a distance, as the bird laid at your finger, you brought it close to your cheek, it happily snuggled at your cheek. The bird’s ear coverts was rubbing against your cheek, it trickled but doesn’t really hurt. You looked at Sukuna, the distance isn’t far, just a few steps and he’ll able to carry you. But what he didn’t calculate is a blade coming at you with the speed of light.

It was fast—and definitely uncalled for. A blade—a katana strike perfectly through your heart, it’s almost impossible but there it was. It hurts like wild. Not to mentioned that there’s a weird feeling of something was blooming inside of you like a flower during spring, blood slowly came from your mouth like a vampire eating their first target. But they aren’t eating their target, you were the target.

“Fuck… ‘kuna—” you coughed—more blood came out, your eyes widened as you used your palm to hold the blood—the crimson from your insides. Sukuna was staring down at your, he was in front of you. You forced yourself to look up, why does he looked… blurry?

“Suku—” “Keep that mouth shut.” Sukuna’s voice was firm, you could hear the urgency within in. You wanted to tell him—wanted to cry and ask why does he look so blurry… until then, you saw black.

Black… everything was gone insight. Sukuna, who was blindingly looked around for some sort of clue, saw you on the ground—even more blood now coming from your mouth which you can’t even feel. Sukuna… lost you? He couldn’t be… right? Why… does it hurt? His heart arched with someone he can’t explain. Sukuna kneed down, using his hand to moved your body as if he was trying to see if a cat died nor not.

Fuck, he may lost you now.

Sukuna looked down at your corpse. He lost everything, his favorite smile, what makes him genuinely happy, what filled the empty useless gaps… now it’s all gone with a blink. The king of curses lost someone special to him…

Special?

He threw the katana that pearced your heart, his arms wrapped around your body, making sure you were in a comfortable position even if you can’t feel it anymore. Your head resting against his chest, Sukuna carried you like the day where you two meet. He doesn’t know what to do now, but he just walk to the now gloomy forest until he reached where… ah you know it.

The river looks more… gloomy now, everything felt empty, at least. That’s what Sukuna saw, he sat down—his hand gently touching your paled mouth, where the blood already tried out. His eyes met with the white hasu that now resembles you even more. Sukuna doesn’t know neither to be happy or sad about it, he reached out to the clear mineral to wiped the blood from your lips.

He stared at you, and for a moment. He realizes something. He loved you. He fucking loved you so much.

Sukuna knew he loved you, but he never expected to feel such lost. A human—something that’s not eternal. But here he was, grieving to his husband, his forever love life. Since you weren’t here anymore… killing that piece of shit who killed you wouldn’t end with a scolding.

“I hope we can meet again, someday [Name].”

last minute note; i legit uploaded this in my office... welp. thief oc coming up ! be a lil patient here :). curious, since both @carnalcrows and @sooniebby did a face claim for their ocs... are you guys interested for me to do it next?

[axetivev]

I know the Thief x King reader isn't out yet ... TT but I'm curious ! Since Xiangli had his bio.. how about others ? with the thief oc too... spoilers for his name ? ⊙⁠﹏⁠⊙

spoilers ahead for those who are waiting for the thief oc

⚖️ — Kaede Renn

Name : Kaede Renn

Age : 28

Nationality : Japanese

Height : 184 cm [6'04']

Weight : 62 kg [136 ibs]

🎡 — Sato Hiroshi

Name : Sato Hiroshi

Age : 25

Nationality : Japanese

Height : 186 cm [6'1,2']

Weight : 59 kg [130 ibs]

🪙 — Hector

Name : Hector

Height : 192 cm [6'3]

Age : 27

Nationality : English + Spanish

Weight : 69 kg [152 ibs]

[axetivev]

help... 18 people then soon I'm 600 followers... and i genuinely don't know what to do about it about it.... WHY.

[axetivev]

Terms and Conditions Applied

pariring: gangster! male OC x male reader [profile]

summary: You're a single dad, drowning in debt, barely holding it together for your daughter. But when loan collectors come knocking a little too hard, you find out your debt belongs to someone far more dangerous: Felix Marino, the quiet but infamous head of one of the most powerful mafia syndicates in the world. He makes you a deal—your freedom, for a job. One job. But nothing is ever that simple in his world. Especially when you're not sure what terrifies you more: the blood on your hands, or the way Felix looks at you like you belong to him.

content warnings: 18+, bottom male reader, explicit violence, blood and trauma aftermath, mild panic attack / dissociation, threats and coercion, organized crime themes, single parenthood under duress, mild sexual content, handjob (reader receiving), power imbalance, emotional manipulation, PTSD-like symptoms.

word count: 4.9k

The knocks came hard and fast.

They rattled the apartment door like gunfire—three hits, pause, two more, and a final slam that made the hinges groan. You froze mid-step, a half-unpacked grocery bag dangling from your fingers. Inside it, a bruised apple rolled to the floor.

Not again.

You scanned the room automatically, as if the act of tidying clutter might somehow soften the blow of reality. But the apartment was already bare. Sparse. Clean, in that way that says we don’t have much, but we’re trying.

A soft voice drifted from the hallway behind you. “Papa?”

You turned. There she was—your daughter. Four years old, hair mussed from a post-nap world, her favourite stuffed rabbit trailing from one hand. She rubbed her eyes with the other, blinking at you.

Your heart clenched.

“It’s okay, baby,” you said quietly. “Go back to your room, yeah? I’ll be right there.”

“But who—”

“Just the mailman,” you lied, kneeling down to smooth her hair. “He’s loud today.”

She stared up at you for a beat longer than usual, as if her tiny brain could already tell something wasn’t quite right. Then she nodded solemnly and padded back down the hallway, the rabbit dragging behind her like a weary soldier.

The knocking came again. Louder this time.

You straightened up, set the bag on the counter, and took a breath.

When you opened the door, the two men standing on the other side looked like they'd been born in leather jackets—one tall, one squat. Neither looked thrilled to be here, but they sure weren’t leaving empty-handed.

“Morning,” said the taller one, stepping forward without waiting for an invitation. “Nice day, huh?”

You didn’t respond. He took that as agreement.

“Mr. [Last Name],” said the shorter one. “We’re here about the debt.”

“I know.”

“Good.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Then you also know your payment was due four days ago.”

“I told you,” you said. “I’m working extra shifts. I’m doing what I can.”

The taller man walked a slow circle around your living room, peering at the cheap furniture like it offended him. “A place like this, I’m surprised you haven’t sold the kid’s toys yet.”

Your jaw tensed. “She’s four.”

The shorter man clucked his tongue. “And if you don’t have something by Friday, you’re going to be explaining that to the Boss in person. You know how he feels about delays.”

“I’m trying—”

“Try harder.”

They left without another word. The taller one flicked a crumpled cigarette onto your doormat and stomped it out as a parting gift.

You shut the door. Locked it. Then leaned against it with your eyes closed.

⋆｡°✩  

The silence in the apartment returned slowly, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft patter of small feet against tile.

“Papa?”

You opened your eyes and looked down. She was back, rabbit in hand.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah. Just tired.”

She wrapped her little arms around your leg, hugging you as best she could. Her cheek pressed against your jeans. “You’re not sad?”

You knelt again and pulled her into your arms properly, breathing in the smell of strawberry shampoo and comfort.

“I’m okay now,” you whispered into her hair. “Because I have you.”

⋆｡°✩  

You made pancakes for dinner.

It wasn’t your best work. The batter was too thin, the pan unevenly heated, and the only syrup left was the cheap, knockoff kind that smelled more like corn than maple. But she still grinned when you put the plate in front of her, legs swinging from the dining chair as she kicked at nothing in particular.

“Can I put peanut butter on it too?” she asked, already reaching for the jar.

“Only if you save a piece for Mr. Bun.”

“I always do,” she said with a solemn nod, as if it were some sacred pact between her and the stuffed rabbit.

You watched her eat, chewing slower than usual, trying to stall the moment. The kitchen light flickered overhead. The stack of unpaid bills on the counter seemed to grow by the day, and rent was due in less than a week. You didn’t know how you were going to pay off the collectors by Friday, let alone face the man behind them— the one they called their boss, in hushed, clipped tones.

A name you’d never heard until two weeks ago. A name that now haunted every idle moment.

You’d tried not to ask too many questions, but the way the others spoke about him made your skin crawl. Not loud, not showy — but dangerous. Not because of violence, but because of how controlled he was. And how rarely he needed to raise his voice to get things done.

You only owed him money because your original lender sold the debt off.

It wasn’t supposed to get this far.

“Papa?”

You blinked out of it. “Yeah, bug?”

She looked at you with peanut butter smeared on her chin. “Can we read the owl book again tonight?”

You smiled, even if it felt thin on your face. “Of course.”

⋆｡°✩  

She fell asleep curled beside you on the couch, mid-sentence, head tucked against your arm. The copy of The Owl Who Wasn’t Afraid of the Dark lay open in your lap, thumb still pressed to the page.

You didn’t dare move her. Not yet.

The room was quiet now, except for the muffled hum of the hallway outside. You could still hear footsteps every now and then—neighbours coming home, doors opening and shutting. It was the kind of rundown apartment block where the walls had ears, but no one cared enough to listen.

You leaned your head back and stared at the ceiling, one hand gently smoothing your daughter’s hair.

Then came the buzz of your phone.

You fumbled for it quietly, careful not to wake her.

Unknown Number

You stared at it. A second buzz followed — a text.

[ The Boss would like a word. You’ll want to make yourself available.

Tomorrow. 10 PM. Zia’s Diner. Come alone. ]

You didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to. Whoever sent it would already know you’d be there.

⋆｡°✩  

Zia’s Diner looked like it hadn’t changed since the '80s. Flickering neon sign. Red leather booths dulled from wear. Grease-stained menus laminated so many times the corners curled like dying leaves. It was the kind of place that smelled like burnt coffee and fried onions no matter what time of day you walked in. The kind of place where someone like you belonged.

Someone like the one you owe money to? Not so much.

You got there ten minutes early. Sat in the back corner booth, facing the entrance like you’d seen people do in mob movies. Ridiculous, really — like knowing who sat where would make any of this easier.

The waitress came by once, chewing gum and offering you a tired, sceptical look. “You ordering, or you waiting?”

“Just coffee,” you muttered, and she poured you a cup without a word.

You kept checking the time.

10:00 PM sharp, the bell above the door jingled.

He didn’t walk in with an entourage. No theatrics. No broad-shouldered bodyguards or gaudy suits. Just a man in a black wool coat, collar turned up against the wind, dark hair swept back with the ease of someone who didn’t need to try.

He didn’t look like a loan shark. He looked like he could be an architect. Or maybe a violinist. His features were clean-cut but strangely gentle, like someone who hadn’t always belonged to a world like this.

And then he looked at you.

A quick once-over. Not judgmental. Just... observant.

He made his way over with unhurried steps, slid into the booth across from you, and removed his gloves one finger at a time. The silence stretched, thick and taut.

“I’m glad you came,” he said at last. His voice was low, smooth, but not performative. Not like someone trying to play a role. “I didn’t want this to become unpleasant.”

You swallowed hard. “I figured it already was.”

He tilted his head slightly, almost like he was considering you. “It doesn’t have to be.”

You didn’t answer.

The waitress reappeared, looking more alert this time. “Coffee?”

“Tea,” he said, without looking at her. “Chamomile, if you have it.”

You blinked. Tea?

Once she left, he turned his gaze back to you. “You’re a difficult man to track down, considering you haven’t left your apartment in three days.”

Your jaw clenched. “I’ve been with my daughter.”

“I know.” His tone didn’t change, but there was something in his eyes now. Not softness — but interest. “She’s the one who likes the owl book, right?”

You stiffened. “You’ve been watching us?”

“I have people. They were concerned. It’s their job.”

“Concerned about what?”

He paused. Then: “About how a man ends up this deep in debt when he’s clearly not reckless.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that. Because the worst part was— he wasn’t wrong.

He leaned back, resting his hands on the table. His fingers were long, elegant— with tattoos running across them.

“I didn’t call you here to threaten you,” he said calmly. “If I wanted to scare you, I’d have sent someone else.”

“So why did you call me here?”

His lips parted slightly, like he was about to answer. But then the tea arrived. He thanked the waitress with a quiet nod, waited until she was gone again.

And then he said:

“Because I don’t think you belong in this mess. And I’m interested in seeing how you get out of it.”

You stared at him, not sure if it was a trap. A test. Some kind of manipulation.

“Why?” you asked, voice quiet now. Honest.

He stirred a packet of honey into his tea. No rush. No tension. “You remind me of someone.”

That shut you up.

Not because you knew what it meant, but because of how he said it. Like it hurt to say. Like the memory was still raw, even if the delivery wasn’t.

He took a sip of his tea, eyes never leaving yours.

“Let’s talk about your debt,” he said.

⋆｡°✩  

You tried to read him. Failed.

Everything about him was composed — the measured way he spoke, the way he held his tea with both hands like it was a habit rather than a choice. His voice was quiet but sure, like he’d never once had to raise it to be heard.

He didn’t move like a man used to violence, but you knew better than to trust that.

“You said you wanted to talk about my debt,” you said after a beat, keeping your voice steady. “So talk.”

He gave a soft hum, almost amused. “Alright.”

From the inside pocket of his coat, he pulled out a thin leather folio and opened it on the table. You caught your name on one of the papers. Your signature on another. A string of numbers you didn’t want to look too closely at.

“I assume you know how much you owe.”

You nodded once. “Too much.”

“You’re not wrong.” He tapped a finger against the paper, not unkindly. “You took out the first loan eighteen months ago. Medical bills, yes?”

You stiffened. “My daughter was in the hospital. Pneumonia. We didn’t have insurance.”

He nodded like he already knew, which he probably did.

“And the second loan,” he continued, “was for rent, food, and utilities. You were out of work.”

“My hours got cut,” you muttered.

“And the third?”

You looked away. “Funeral expenses.”

Silence settled again. Not judgmental. Just quiet.

He closed the folder gently and folded his hands on top of it. “There are… less generous men you could’ve borrowed from. Men who would’ve already left a message on your doorstep. Or through your window.”

“I didn’t exactly get a choice in where the loans came from,” you snapped, sharper than you meant to.

He didn’t react. Didn’t flinch. Just watched you like he’d been expecting that edge to come out eventually.

“You’re right,” he said. “You didn’t. But you have one now.”

That gave you pause. “…What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned back, eyes steady.

“It means I’m offering to restructure your debt. Reduce the interest. Extend the timeline. Provide resources, if you need them.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

He didn’t smile — but his mouth twitched, like he almost did.

“I told you. You remind me of someone.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“It is to me.”

You didn’t know what to do with that. Couldn’t decide if this was some twisted act of pity or a long con. But you weren’t used to people giving you anything. Especially not someone with this much power—with hands that clean, a gaze that calm, and a reputation like his.

He took another sip of his tea.

“I don’t expect you to trust me,” he said, almost kindly. “I wouldn’t, if I were you. But I want you to understand— I’m not doing this to trap you.”

“Then what do you want?”

His fingers paused on the edge of the cup.

“I want you to keep your daughter,” he said simply. “I want her to grow up safe. With her father.”

Something in your chest twisted. You looked down, jaw tight.

“That’s not your business.”

“Maybe not. But I’ve made it mine.”

You looked up again, and this time, there was no softness in your voice. “What do you get out of it?”

A longer pause.

He studied you, not like a man considering what to say, but like he was wondering how much you could handle. Like he’d already made up his mind.

“I’m not the villain you think I am,” he said finally. “But I’ve been one before. I know what it takes to get out.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Your hands curled around your coffee cup, suddenly aware of the chipped ceramic, the cool air from the vents brushing your neck. A waitress refilled a glass of soda at another table. The world kept moving.

He stood slowly, gathering the folder and slipping it back into his coat.

“You don’t have to decide anything tonight,” he said. “But I’ll have someone drop off the new terms tomorrow. Look them over. Think about your kid.”

He turned to leave, then paused and glanced back at you one last time.

“And think about who you want to be when she looks back on this.”

And then he was gone.

Just like that.

⋆｡°✩  

You didn’t expect it to come in an envelope.

White. Thick. No return address.

It was on your doorstep when you got home from picking Nora up from daycare — tucked under the welcome mat like some dead thing left by a cat. You stared at it for a full minute before bending to pick it up, heart low in your chest.

She tugged on your sleeve. “What’s that, Daddy?”

“Nothing, bug.” You smiled, but your voice didn’t rise with it. “Go on in. I’ll be right there.”

She slipped past you with a squeal, barreling into the apartment and tossing her little backpack onto the floor. You shut the door behind her, thumb tracing the edge of the envelope as you walked to the kitchen. The light through the window was already fading to that washed-out grey of too-late afternoons. You tore it open without ceremony.

Inside: four pages, paper thick enough to feel expensive. No header, no signature — but you recognised the same smooth, sparse formatting from the mans’s folder at Zia’s—the new terms.

You skimmed.

Then read slower.

Then stopped.

He was serious.

— Outstanding balance: reduced by 40%. — Interest: frozen, pending further review. — Monthly payments: deferred for 3 months. — Conditions:

That last part made your stomach twist.

1. You will be reachable at all times. 2. You will submit proof of employment weekly. 3. You will meet with Mr. Marino in person at a time and place of his choosing. Frequency: open. 4. You will not attempt to renegotiate through any party other than Mr. Marino himself. 5. You will not disappear.

Regards, 

Felix Marino

That last line wasn’t underlined. But it didn’t need to be.

You sat down, the chair scraping across the tile.

It was clean. Too clean. He’d carved out the brutality and left behind something you could stomach — just enough rope to pull yourself up. Or hang yourself with.

In the distance, you heard Nora humming a song from her cartoons.

And you realised: you were already considering it.

⋆｡°✩  

The house is quiet after Nora falls asleep, sprawled out in her tiny bed with her stuffed rabbit tucked under her chin. You'd cleaned the chocolate from her face, tucked her in, and kissed her forehead like always. Pretended like nothing was wrong. Like there wasn’t a folded letter in your coat pocket that felt like it weighed more than your whole damn life.

You sit at the kitchen table, hands steepled, staring down at it again.

Felix Marino’s terms are clear:

Six months of contracted work

Weekly check-ins at a private location downtown

No outside contact with “competing interests”

No questions asked about the nature of the work.

Nora is off-limits. Her name isn’t even mentioned.

That part almost makes it worse.

Because you don’t think Felix left her out of the contract out of kindness.

You think it’s because he sees her as yours. And what belongs to you, by extension, belongs to him now.

You grip the paper until the crease deepens. This is a deal with the devil, no matter how cleanly it’s written. Still, you’ve seen worse. You’ve lived worse. And if this means keeping Nora safe—keeping your home, your job, your sanity—then what choice do you really have?

You’ll meet his terms. But you won’t let him sink his claws in.

You won’t let him think he has you.

Your phone buzzes on the table. A message. Just a location, a time.

You stare at the screen for a while before flipping it over and standing up. You clean the counter. Rinse the mugs. Check the locks on the doors twice. It’s routine, but you do it slower tonight.

[ Tomorrow, 11 AM.

Wear something decent. ]

Just before bed, you peek in on Nora one more time.

Her tiny chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm. There’s drool on her pillow. You swallow the knot in your throat.

You hope to god she never has to know how close you came to losing everything.

⋆｡°✩  

The address Felix gave leads to a storefront with blackout windows and no signage. Inside, it's cleaner than expected. Sleek. Minimal. You’re greeted by a man in a tailored suit who doesn’t ask your name — just waves you through with a nod like you’re already known here.

You are, apparently.

A hallway. A door. A quiet room with a view of the city skyline. Felix is seated behind a polished desk, flipping lazily through a folder.

He doesn’t look up when he says, “You came.”

“Not like I had a choice.”

“Sure you did. You just didn’t like the alternatives.”

He gestures to the chair across from him. You sit, tense.

He finally lifts his gaze, eyes still unreadable. “How’s Nora?”

You narrow your eyes. “Fine. And she’s not part of this.”

“I never said she was.” He leans back, steepling his fingers. “Though you should know, this isn’t charity. You’ll work. I’ll watch. If I don’t like what I see, the terms change.”

“And if I don’t like what I see?”

“Then I’ll be disappointed,” Felix says, smooth as silk. “And trust me — you don’t want that.”

There’s a pause. You hate how calm he is. Like this is all part of some carefully laid plan. Maybe it is.

“You always recruit desperate dads into your service?”

“Only the interesting ones.”

You clench your jaw. “Why me?”

Felix shrugs, almost too casually. “Doesn’t matter.”

But it does matter. You can feel it.

The way he looks at you sometimes. Like he’s trying to find someone else in your face. Like you’re unfinished business.

You stand. “I’ll do what you asked. But keep the personal shit out of it.”

Felix watches you with that same unreadable gaze. “Whatever you say.”

But you can tell he’s already rewriting the rules.

⋆｡°✩  

You’d expected something bloodier.

Maybe it was the envelope. Maybe it was Felix’s eyes, the way he looked at you like you were already halfway his. Or maybe it was just the way his name lingered like a shadow behind every line of those new “terms.” Whatever it was, you thought there’d be blood. Screaming. A pipe wrench. Something straight out of a bad movie.

Instead, you’re standing outside a warehouse that looks too clean to be dangerous, which somehow makes it worse.

You glance down at the slip of paper again. One name. One address. Gallo. That’s all he gave you. No instructions. No backup. Just the duffel bag in your hand and a phone in your pocket that vibrated exactly once with a location pin and then went dead silent.

You should walk away. You should. But you think of Nora. Think of the groceries on the table this morning — not from your wallet. Think of the sharp suits you saw at your building’s entrance yesterday. Men who didn’t belong there. Men who made eye contact just long enough to remind you that you were being watched.

So you step inside.

The warehouse isn’t abandoned, but it’s not busy either. The air smells like oil and dust, and the lights overhead buzz faintly with age. You follow the sound of metal scraping across concrete until you see him — mid-40s, thick arms, cigarette tucked into the side of his mouth like it’s permanent.

“You Gallo?” you ask.

He looks up, unimpressed. “Who’s asking?”

You don’t answer. Just unzip the duffel and pull out the envelope inside — thick, sealed, and marked with the same insignia that was embossed into Felix’s letterhead.

He snorts. “About time.”

You hand it over. He rips it open, eyes scanning quickly. You can’t see the paper, but whatever’s written on it makes his jaw twitch.

“I paid last week,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

You don’t move. Felix never said what to do after delivering the message. But you know better than to leave right away.

Gallo crumples the paper. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters. Then louder, “Tell Marino if he wants more outta me, he can come collect it himself.”

You exhale slowly. “I don’t think that’s how this works.”

He steps forward, chest puffed. “No? Then how does it work, ragazzo di merda?”

There’s a tension now — heavy and tight, like the moment before thunder. You don’t flinch, even when he gets close enough for you to smell the smoke on his breath. But your fingers twitch.

This isn’t a test of violence. It’s a test of restraint.

And you’re not sure which you’re worse at.

He laughs like he’s already won. Then, just when the silence threatens to stretch too far, he spits — right at your shoes.

You move fast. Maybe too fast. You don’t pull the knife, don’t throw a punch, but your hands are around his throat in a blink, and you shove him back hard enough that he slams against a shelf with a clang. A box of screws topples somewhere behind him.

“Try it again,” you say, low and even. “See what happens.”

You don’t remember drawing the knife.

All you remember is the way the air changed — thick, metallic, sharp with panic. One moment, Gallo’s guys were just shouting, posturing like men with too much testosterone and not enough brains. The next one of them rushed you. Pulled a gun. A warning shot, maybe. But it grazed your arm, and that was all it took to tip something inside you.

The rest is a blur. Screaming. A crash. A warm spray across your face that wasn’t your own.

You’re not trained for this.

You’re not supposed to be the guy standing in a warehouse full of broken bones and gasping, bloodied men, clutching a blade that’s slippery in your hand. You were a barista three years ago. A father. A husband, once.

But right now, you’re just a wreck. Shaking, breath jagged, body slick with sweat and blood — most of it not yours. The knife hits the floor with a metallic clatter. Your legs feel like paper.

The phone in your pocket buzzes once.

A location pin.

No words.

Your hands are still trembling as you stumble out into the alley, back pressed to the cool brick wall as your knees threaten to buckle. You press your palm to the wound on your arm, but you can’t even tell if it’s deep. All you can feel is the adrenaline, burning like acid through your veins.

The car pulls up exactly two minutes later.

Sleek. Black. Expensive in the quiet, menacing kind of way.

The passenger door opens, and Felix is already waiting inside.

You hesitate. Just for a second.

Then you climb in, dragging the bloodied duffel with you. You don’t speak. You can’t.

He says nothing at first. Just watches. His gaze skims your face, your hands, the splotches on your shirt. His nostrils flare, faintly. His jaw clenches.

Then his voice comes, low and velvety.

“You did well.”

You flinch.

Well?

Is this what “well” looks like?

You open your mouth to say something — anything — but it all dies on your tongue. You feel like you're floating outside yourself, like your body isn’t quite yours. Like you're going to pass out.

Felix notices. Of course he does.

He leans in, slow and deliberate. His hand moves to your jaw— firm, and tilts your face toward him.

“You’re shaking.”

No shit. You laugh — a broken, awful sound that doesn’t feel real.

Felix hums, then shifts in his seat. The partition behind you slides up without a sound, cloaking the two of you in soft shadows.

“I told you I wanted to see what you could handle,” he murmurs. “You didn’t disappoint.”

“I almost died,” you manage to whisper.

“Mm,” he says, thumb brushing along your cheek. “But you didn’t.”

You don’t realise your hands are clenched in your lap until he notices. He undoes your seatbelt. Leans down.

“I can help,” he says softly, fingers already trailing down your thigh. “Let me.”

You’re still bloodstained. You still feel sick. But your cock betrays you — twitching in your jeans under his touch like it doesn’t care that you’re half-feral from adrenaline and trauma.

He smiles faintly. Like he expected that.

“Poor thing,” Felix says, voice thick with amusement and something deeper. “All wound up. All that fear. All that pressure.”

His hand slides over the bulge in your pants, slow and possessive. Your breath catches.

“You’re shaking so much,” he murmurs. “You need to calm down. Just relax.”

You don’t. Can’t. But your hips twitch anyway.

Felix is patient. Cruel in his gentleness. His fingers undo your jeans with practised ease, and the second he wraps his hand around your cock— warm, firm, steady— you nearly choke on a gasp. The pleasure spikes sharply and fast, edged with guilt and something darker.

You shouldn’t want this. Not now. Not here. Not after—

“Don’t think,” he says quietly. “Just feel.”

Your head hits the seat behind you. Your hands tremble uselessly in your lap as he strokes you—not fast, not slow, just right. His thumb circles the head on every upward pull, milking soft, breathless moans out of you.

“You’ve been good,” he whispers, voice like velvet steel. “Brave. I take care of what’s mine.”

You don’t know when that happened — when you became his. But it’s too late now. His hand keeps working you through it, coaxing you toward a high you didn’t ask for but can’t stop chasing. Heat pools low in your belly. Your eyes squeeze shut. You’re going to—

“Come for me,” he breathes, leaning in. “That’s it. Let go.”

And you do.

It rips out of you like a sob. Messy. Shuddering. You curl in on yourself as your body wracks with release, nerves flayed raw.

Felix doesn’t flinch at the mess. He just wipes his hand, then guides your head down to rest against his shoulder. You’re still panting, still dazed, blood drying on your clothes — and he strokes your hair like you’re something precious.

Like you're his favourite broken thing.

⋆｡°✩  

You leave the bathroom light on.

Not because Nora’s scared of the dark anymore. She’s been sleeping through the night since she was three. It’s for you.

You’re the one who wakes up in cold sweats now. You’re the one who flinches at door hinges creaking and cars idling too long outside the window. You’re the one staring at the nursery monitor like something might crawl through it.

There’s no crying. Just the soft hum of static.

She’s curled up on her side, one arm flung above her head, mouth open in that completely unselfconscious way only kids manage. Her stuffed bear is trapped beneath her chest like a casualty, and you don’t dare move it. You don’t dare move anything.

You sit on the edge of your bed, clothes still crusted in spots with things you scrubbed off hours ago. You’re not sure how you’re still breathing. Or why you are.

Your hands shake. Not like before—this is quieter. Numb.

The monitor hisses softly, then goes silent. You keep watching it anyway.

Your phone buzzes once on the nightstand. You don’t check it. You already know who it is.

You already know what he’ll say. Good work. I told you you could handle it. You’re not sure if that’s supposed to be a compliment or a warning.

Taglist: @zolass @edensrose @tamias-wrld @ilovesugurugeto69 @planetxella @mazettns @longlivegojo @midnight-138 @literallyrousseau @vimademedoitt @useless-n-clueless @flatl1n3 @hikaurbae @lexkou @razefxylorf @abrielletargaryen @coco-145 @eagleeyedbitch @deathofacupid @gayaristocrat @porcalinecunt @whatsaheartxx @thecringes2000 @sageofspades @g4vcat @itsrandompersonyall @blvdprn @blueemochii @sappychat @onyxxxxqq @axetivev @s1llygo0s3 @crazydirectioner2000-blog @thestarsallowed @honey-valentin3 @academiq @gaozorous-rex-blog @idkmissgurl @sooniebby @seomn

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[axetivev]

LUCIANN HI

first of all, ur violinist post was OUT OF THIS WORLDDD

one suggestion tho, between the content warnings and where the fic starts, its advisable to add a :readmore: (theres usually a button for that in both ur pc and phone i think)

as that can give a compact version of ur post, so the reader will be able to scroll past them to the next post (especially if they find it in the tags)

have a great day/night!!

hello to you too, Nikhil !

and for everything, i thanked you many. tbh i don't really know that thing existed, 😭 but seriously. thanks for the suggestion ! (bro is a life saver)

have a great day/night too~ !!

[axetivev]

i'm slowly getting interested in writing the Thief x Royalty reader (can be depicted as king). I've already thought of his name and plot. Are you guys interested? Here's the idea ! [ 🎭 ]

if it's a yes, after I finished the Sukuna fic + this. requests will be opened (since, i don't really have writing ideas. heh)

[axetivev]

hi… popping in because i saw your ask to nikhil and i crashed out when i saw malaysian tv shows and saw you were referring about kak ros from upin & ipin, and fang(?) from boboiboy.

ANYWAYS THATS ALL. hope you have a good day sobs

bro caught me and i legit scared for my life

[axetivev]

Ok uh...hear me out...imagibe like ratio x male reader (yes both of them are married) like imagine like no one even k ew the great ratio was married and them like

So...how did u meet him?

And cue every cute, goofy fluff story scenes like male reader having a huge energy golden retriver vibe and like ratio disliked him before and time-skip realize he fallen for male reader first date and tine-skip ratio proposed like

Hey male reader...u have a last name right...change it to mine rn

my requests are currently closed,,, but as people once told me i was a golden retriever. i loved this idea ! however. i'm not really planning to write something Ratio at the moment. i truly apologize !

[axetivev]

— Summary: After your performance and fan meetup, a guy asked you out on a date. Though, your manager wanted to refuse. You, being a solo musician with nothing much better to do decided to accept his date. You thought he might be a random fan that paid a lot to go on a date with you. Little did you know, he was a popular idol!

— Warnings/Tags: Smut + Fluff, Oral sex (oc!receiving), Ridding, Ass slapping, Porn with Plot, Photography, Obsessive Oc, Taking Pictures without Consent, Hair pulling, Overstimulation.

— Words: 4.8k (God...)

— A/N: okay... ill do three ocs for now. i actually had many ideas for creating another oc. but this is enough for now. at least, since i had my own desires to write other characters. that's all really. also... there's parts of this fic that's inspired by @sooniebby. (hope you don't mind, heh) as my usual. I hope you enjoyed this fic !!

— Pairing: Oc!Sato Hiroshi x Male!Reader

The sound of music echoed through the empty studio, you stood there alone, companied by a violin over your shoulder as your dominant hand gliding the bow to the strings—your other hand, your fingers moved gently as you played Canon in D. You closed your eyes—letting the music consumed you for a moment, until you stopped.

“[Name],” a voice of a woman entered the room. Her tag in her suit was clear as day—Yamada Haruka. Your manager. “The agency is going to do held a huge performance next month! Are you in?”

Haruka was the woman who was like an actual mother to you. Unlike your actual mother—you first met her after a few weeks you dropped out medic school for wanting to be a violist, your mother never supported that idea in the slightest. Not to mention that she barely even supported you other then being a doctor. Kicking you out and cutting all contact.

You found yourself playing with the same violin you loved since high school—the last thing from your father remains. Even though life was rough, you played music endlessly with an open heart. Money slowly coming and after five months of you solo and having some experience, you found Haruka in a cemetery looking down at a grave—two of them. Actually, you stop mid track. Your heart wanted to approach her, but your mind said something so absurd like it was came from a cartoon; “What if she was a ghost? Capturing it’s pray by acting someone grieving?”

But you ignored that thought, even it felt weird to comfort a stranger. You stood beside her, placing your hand over your shoulder as you read both names that are carved on those stones.

Yamada Sakura — Yamada Fuuji

You look down at the woman who’s still kneeling down as she wiped her tears. Her business suit was messy, she pulled out a handkerchief as she tried to wipe her tears, her make up was messed up her tears. You didn’t want to ask—well, you just wanted to comfort her. But it ended up snowballing into her asking you to join the music company she was in—“you had potential!” was all she said. That alone, you never obtained from your mother.

Back to the present day. You sat across Haruka, she pulled out her phone, showing it to you. The poster of your agency from Instagram—that you and a popular female idol group had a show in Tokyo—with some other idol groups that had a possibility of preforming. That group had a big name. Like, 30 million worth big—your eyes slowly flickered over that group, Twilight, from the agency Hymnn.

Even though Hymnn is a big agency, most of their assets come from their male idol group—Twilight, which was filled by five members. But you sometimes questioned yourself, how could they get such good looking men? You remembered that time, somehow. Haruka allowed you to go out with your old friends, which was spend to watch Twilight’s performance. The screams of their fans was enough to make you go deaf, if not thanks for you forgetting to pulled out your earbuds.

“Again…?” You pouted, you look at Haruka with your classic puppy eyes—which Haruka replied with a pinch on your cheek. “Ha—ru—kaaaa!!”

“Kiddo, you’ve skipped your show for three times in a row. Everyone is practically coping over your posts with grave yards!” Haruka slightly pulled your cheek before releasing your skin, making you whine as you straighten up.

You suddenly remembered the last time your preformed was eight months ago, your agency’s both Instagram and Twitter accounts that had your last performance was filled by your fans spamming grave yard emojis and dead roses. You didn’t expect your fans could be so desperate for your comeback, it’s laughable but also sad at the same time.

Haruka leaned back against the navy couch, her right hand moved to take the glass of water over the table. The silence stretched for a moment, you just stared at your manager’s phone in your hand. Mindlessly scrolling to the pages of your agency, when you stopped at the last post of yours, your eyes slowly read on who liked your post.

Liked by TwiHiroshii.

“TwiHiroshii…?” You muttered under your breath. You gave Haruka’s phone back, back to the original topic of you preforming. You nodded your head. “Okay then, guess I’ll perform on the show.”

Haruka’s face slightly lighted up as she straighten up. “Well then! I’ll informed you about everything about the event later on, I’m going in a meeting. Food is in the counter, don’t forget to practice. See ya kiddo!”

Haruka practically ran out of the studio, you sighed while shaking your head amusingly. Even though she was in her mid 40s, she’s sometimes like a teen like you do even at your 20s. Well, since Haruka isn’t here. Procrastinating sounds like a great idea…

You opened your Instagram, you barely opened your socials. Which sounds unrealistic but hey, at least you had a life. You checked your notifications, your eyes slightly widened when that same account liked all of your posts. You stood up from the couch and moved you way to the counter as you scrolled on your fyp, there’s already a plate of curry that’s still hot. You took a chair and sit down.

You clicked on the TwiHiroshii account, you aren’t really surprised that it was Sato Hiroshi, the member of Twilight. But why does he liked your posts? You thought it might be a mistake, but what mistake that made him liked all of your posts?

Some fans of Twilight reached out to your account. And you finally checked your followers, you titled your head. Since when your followers was 940k? The last time you checked or even remembered, you only had 500k-ish. You slowly looked through your posts, your most popular post was of you in the stage of your last performance. Holding your violin—your face was stoic, unlike the actual you behind the face of many. You looked at the comments, which was somewhat concerning.

_Shar. 3w

HIROSHI LIKED [NAME]’S POSTS!?

acheron’swife 2w

i’m going to make a fic out of them…

ㅤㅤ@ acheron’swife 1w

DID IT!!!!! HERE’S MY AO3 !! *****

Hiroshifann!! 1w

Hiroshi love men ! ? I mean…. If it’s [Name]… They matched hello!?

HiroLennisthebest!1! 2d

Hiroshi x [Name] suck… but cool ig

—Starlight!— 2w

CARNIVALVIOLIN IS DEFINITELY THEIR SHIPNAME!1!1! 🎡🎻

[Name]’sbutth0l3 5d

Hiroshi tops. I saw everything.

Your spoon fall into the plate, just in time as the door opened wide—you jolted to see Haruka crossing her arms to her chest as she leaned to the door frame, there’s one thing in her face; she doesn’t looked amused at all. Your face turned red—fast.

“SORRY—!”

When the day of your performance. You were behind stage, your performance was placed last. You heard from people were screaming and singing the lyrics of the female idol group who preformed before you. Their fans’ screams was loud. Full of energy.

“Violin tuned?” Haruka came up from the blinds, her face was weary. You nodded to her question, a weary smile formed between her lips. “Get ready, your time to shine…”

You nodded your head, as Haruka gave you a thumbs up, the female idols already off the stage. You slowly emerged, your eyes slightly widened seeing the many people sitting there screaming your name. their eyes were practically beaming at your figure—holding a violin on your left hand and the bow at the right. You bow down in front of your fans as you get into position.

You poured your heart to your violin; specially with the song your original song. Your fingers gliding beautifully to the strings like when you were in the studio. You closed your eyes and held your breath—the bow was dancing with the strings. The slow rhyme was calming—until you paused your bow, doing the killer move. You exhale, your hand instinctually moved where your bow met with the A and E strings—even with the AC of the stage was at it’s lowest, you still feel yourself sweating. You can’t mess this up. You can do it, [Name]!

As you ended up your song by holding the bow that still pressed with the strings. You felt your fingers and hands sweaty as you opened your eyes, your eyes met with the crowd. They all shout.

It's not like her shouting… it’s genuinely people shouting and screaming at your name like gold. Cheering at your name.

You bow down, giving everyone a smile that could probably blinded people. Your eyes still scanned around the crowd. Your fans were in a mixed of man and woman, but your eyes landed on someone.

You aren’t sure, but you suspected it was a guy. He swears a black hat from NY Yankees, he wears a black mask. But you saw his hair was ash blonde—maybe it was dyed, covering his identity, and he was holding a paper banner.

“ 好き, [Name] !!! ”

— SaHi

A moment you stared at that specific figure. Who’s even SaHi? But thanks to Haruka’s voice coming from your earbuds, you suddenly snapped and rushed to the back stage. Meeting Haruka and a black haired man talking to each other.

“I’m sorry, I got a little distracted. Yamada-san.” You bowed—trying to act like a professional. “Is there something in the matter?”

Haruka slowly moved your attention to you, she smiled as she shook her head. “It’s nothing! However, I forgot to mention that you’ll had a fan meet-up!”

You honestly wanted to whine, but seeing Haruka’s face? You can’t let down your mom—manager! You put down your violin to the closes table as you rolled your shoulders, damn. Sure playing one of the hardest instruments is sure painful. You put on your smile, Haruka seemed hesitant for a moment. But you nodded your head, you still see it however. Her worried expression.

“Alright then!” Haruka declared, clasping her hands to each other. “[Name], the idol group is still having their meet-up. I suppose you can wait here.” She said, as she gave you a bottle of water.

“Will it took a while?” You asked, talking the water from Haruka as you drank. She shook her head. “Maybe 15 more minutes. Are you… okay with it?”

Ah, maybe that’s why. She’s just worried that you actually don’t want to… but you don’t want to see her sad! You nodded your head. Giving her a thumbs up.

Seems like she was relieved…

Fan meet-ups. You usually don’t like socializing, but fan meet-ups is actually fun…

You just sit there, comfortably with fans coming to you and praising you—some, even. Give you gifts! Who doesn’t love free goodies? Not to mentioned the artists that drew you, their arts are always good no matter what.

And seemed like your fan meet-up this time never changed. Well, many more because of your fans increasing. Some of your fans gave you snacks, candies, chips you name it. Hats? Everything! Even somehow free clothing. The line was kinda long until you met the same guy before. He doesn’t change in any way too. But the audacity that he didn’t bring you gifts… such an insult!

“You—uh… [L.Name]-san?” He spoke, his voice was rather deep. Sounded a bit… familiar. But, where?

You looked behind him—no one was there. You looked around and found most of your fans were already gone, you were slightly confused by how fast they were gone. But what can you do about it? It’s their choice. You then bring back your attention to him—a smile formed kn your lips.

But before you could say something—he cuts you off. “Let’s go on a date.”

Well that was sudden.

Haruka, who was suddenly behind you glared at the guy, her left arm was covering you. As if she protected you from a beast. “Sorry, young man. But I should apologize that [Name]’s schedule is—”

“Hell yeah. Let’s go then!” Haruka’s head immediately turned to you. You can see her visibility get angry at you, you smirked, pulling your puppy eyes. “Haruka!! Please…?”

“I won’t procrastinate during training for a week I swear!”

“Two months.” Haruka said sharply.

“But—”

“Two months.”

“I—fine…. two months….” You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. You saw Haruka and that hat guy having a conversation, you’re honestly too tired to care. You took a KitKat bar from a female fan earlier menacingly bite the middle part.

You took your phone that was beside the cat plushie your fan gave, you sighed as you opened Twitter. Scrolling for a moment, a post—a very recent one opened. The post is from the Twilight account, basically stating that their comeback will be delayed because of “personal” reasons. You tapped on the Twilight’s Twitter, the first thing you saw was their banner concluding their five members.

Kaguya Mizukii, Sato Hiroshi, Yamato Lenn, Furukawa Tenma, Furukawa Junn. You believe, is from the oldest to youngest member.

Mizukii was the oldest—well, from his appearance. He looked like he was 26, and the leader of Twilight. Sato Hiroshi, well you suspected to be two years older then you, he was known to be the most popular member, but was known to be somewhat rebellious. Lenn was known to be the quiet one in the group, with the title joke; “the quiet kid”. From his appearance? Maybe… a year younger then you.

Furukawa Tenma and Junn were siblings, the seconds most popular. They weren’t twins, and fans sometimes fight over who shall take the second most favorite, which. Took crown by two of them.

While you were distracted on your own world, just staring at Sato Hiroshi. You heard a loud slam—stacks of Yen was in front of your eyes, you don’t know exactly how much. But you knew it was stacks of ¥10,000, your eyes beamed, but then you heard Haruka cursed under her breath. “…Deal.”

“Great!” That hat guy smiled under his mask, his hand grabbed your wrist as you shamelessly took the money. He practically dashed out from the fan meetup, you still had money in hand and wearing your dress suit.

How much money does this guy pay to go on a date with you?

You theorized it’s actually more, perhaps. Before those stacks of ¥10,000, he already payed Haruka before but she still refused. But he still insisted of trying. Well, you don’t know much about the outside of music… music and music.

Sitting on a random guy’s car sure is something… sure—he rides a Honda. Nothing very expensive or whatever, maybe he doesn’t want to flex his money. Sitting on the left, your eyes scanning around the front. Looks… too clean.

“No offense but…” As that guy stared the car, you awkwardly rubbed your nape. “What’s your name?”

The guy stared at you for moment—before he let out a laugh, hitting his knees. You didn’t seemed to be amused, just stared at him… dumbly.

“Call me Hi…Kazuki!” Kazuki smirked under his mask, starts his car, and moved at the speed of light—atleast, I thought he drove his car in the speed of light.

First date, on a carnival….

It’s not bad or anything, but going to a carnival isn’t really in your list to go on dates. But seems like Kazuki liked carnivals, you can’t lie, honestly. You felt excited yourself since you never really been to events. Twilight’s concert was honestly your first.

The sun already turned to the beautiful moon—the colorful lights lighting the grass. And many people running around and some going on dates, your eyes scanned around you. You swore your younger self would be jumping to go on somewhere like this, even though. You sometime hated the outside world. Kazuki then came out from the car—still using his clothes from your concert earlier.

“Eh? First time?” Kazuki grinned as he slipped his arm over your waist. You slowly nodded to his question as you then mentality thanked yourself that thought you’re popular, you’re not extremely. “Something caught your eye, babe?”

You’re face slowly reddened—but you fake a cough as you slowly looked around, the games here looked so modern… “How about that one?” You pointed at a game, with ducks in a something like bowl.

When the two of you were near the game—there’s the huge sign on top of the stripped red and white. “DUCK POND!”. Kazuki looked at the owner, a quick talk and you were then given a stick with a hooked end, Kazuki slowly pushed you forward. “Do I need to explain this to you?”

“…I can do it myself.” You pouted at his words, with trembling hands. You barely even took a single duck. Even some people around you looked at you with a lot of questions in their minds.

You were inexperienced for this! You pulled out your tongue, trying to focus. Which was broke when a flash from a phone flickered, you turned your head. Kazuki looked at you, he pulled out his index and thumb like a gun and pointed at you. Where was the light came from…

“I give up.” You sighed defeated, giving the stick to Kazuki.

Kazuki smirked, rubbing his covered nose with his mask. “Watch, and learn. Pretty boy.”

You mostly tried to ignore his last words. But he lean to your ears. Whispering in a low tone that was enough to make you shiver; “Don’t blink.”

Thankfully, you didn’t. But your jaw nearly dropped seeing… 7 ducks at once in the hook. Kazuki looked at it—rolling his eyes, muttering about only getting 7 ducks. The owner’s face isn’t far behind like yours—is this actually humanly possible? But the both of you can’t really answer.

“Here ya go, old man!” Kazuki gave the stick at the owner. He gulped nervously as he nodded, he immediately gave you a teddy bear—not too big nor small. You haven’t get anytime to say thank you—but Kazuki already dragged out away to the next stop.

After many games later. You sat tiredly on the bench near by where Kazuki played an game of shooting, you looked at the ash blonde guy—he doesn’t look tired at all!? He sat next to you, dango in hand and other prices from his winnings. You were about to take it with your hand, but he was insisted that he feed you. So you just allowed him.

The dango was sweet—but not overpowering. Like a typical dango, Kazuki looked at you, you slightly took a peek over his eyes—raven. Kazuki titled his head, he played a smile under his mask.

“Is there something wrong with my… face?” He pointed a finger out at himself. You shook your head. “Nothing…”

“I just… noticed you have raven eyes.” You look at his eyes, you swore you saw his cheeks flushed. But you smiled sweetly—at least, that’s what Kazuki sees. “It looks good on you.”

Kazuki slightly shifted from his seat. His hands trembled, you don’t know what he was going to do. Does people flustered like this or is it just Kazuki? You tried to reached your hand at him, but he froze on spot.

The wind blew behind you, it was harsh. Perhaps, there would be rain sooner or later. The wind blowing your hair and Kazuki’s hat, his hair is indeed ash blonde… but somehow, his mask also from the second harsh wind that blew from Kazuki’s back—wait.

Sato Hiroshi—!?

“IS THAT SATO HIROSHI FROM TWILIGHT!?” There’s a girl screaming from a distance, you look at Kazuki—no. Hiroshi. He immediately grabbed your wrist, speeding at the speed of light. You then hear some phone clicking—and people shouting “CARNIVALVIOLIN IS REAL!?”

You were seated in the middle by Hiroshi, he didn’t even think twice once to start his car and drove off—in the middle seat, you were praying for ATLEAST, he didn’t break any traffic rules. Because it would most definitely be a nightmare…

You honestly had so so so many questions. Well, you understand that why Hiroshi lied about his name, he’s famous. But from many questions, why does he wants you!? You swore you were average, but guess people have their own opinions…

Hiroshi carried you, to what you thought might be an apartment—with so much staff that was staring at you. Even some, trying to talk to Hiroshi but he brushed them off, he practically rushed to the elevator and ran to his room—and make you flop on his bed. As much as you want to put a serious face, it failed miserably by how much his room has you. From your albums and merch, basically everything.

For a moment he just stare—his eyes were blank. The awkward silence stretched, just your eyes and his raven eyes staring at each other. The silence wouldn’t be broke if you didn’t say something that’s kind of stupid; “Did you bring the stuff from the carnival?”

Your lips then straighten, Hiroshi just stared at you for a good couple minutes, he let out a chuckle, shaking his head amusingly.

“Of course,” he said, sitting next to you. Hiroshi then turned his gaze to the wall in front of him, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, sorry. I panicked earlier.”

Hiroshi stared at the floor, his eyes slowly flickered when you sat up next to him. He was mostly silent, he just watched your movements. You hesitantly grabbed his hand, intertwining them with yours, your similar smile formed on your lips that made Hiroshi giddy in his heart.

“Being an idol is a nightmare for you, huh?” You leaned forward, Hiroshi’s nose and your met. “Don’t worry about it, though—we are popularity different. I understand what you’re going through.”

“Sometimes, idol’s life can be more heavy then a violinist, therefore; please… warn me next time.”

Hiroshi stared at you, his smirk was gone—non insight. You weren’t sure what’s going on in that mind of his, but you just smiled at him. Hiroshi looked from the top of your head and knees, his face just reddened even more as he closed his hips.

He huffed—sounded annoyed. But you can’t really find any sense of that, he gripped your wrist. “I—I don’t need this bullshit anymore—!” With a single hand, he grabbed both of your wrists and crossing them. He leaned forward to pressed his lips against yours—it felt rough. You thought it would at least be soft, guess you’re wrong.

When yours lips parted, Hiroshi grabbed your shoulders—with force that’s enough to not actually hurt you, he placed you down on to the floor. Putting you on your knees, you look straight—a huge tent was in sight. How big is even this is..?

You felt Hiroshi’s hand moved to the back of your head, slightly making you leaned forward. You gulped, slowly yet hesitantly, your hands slowly unzipped his pants, Hiroshi’s cock was in front of your face, it’s shadow hovering over your head. You gulped nervously, but Hiroshi was impatient.

“C’mon, use your mouth. Don’t you know how to give someone a blowjob?” He huffed, he pulled your forward, the veins of Hiroshi’s cock was touching your nose.

You let out a quiet sigh, you place your over Hiroshi’s hips. You opened your mouth, Hiroshi looked down the moment your mouth was wrapping around his glans, slowly moving your way down to take his dick shamelessly. He pulled out his phone when you slightly gagged by his cock, thankfully, his phone isn’t in flash like earlier in the carnival.

“Use your fingers to open yourself.” Hiroshi command, he put down his phone and with his right hand—he pulled your hair as his cock was hitting at the back of your throat.

You can deny him… but you were horny, using your left hand, you swiftly opened the button of your pants. Your fingers slipped under your boxers, inserting your index and middle finger. You choked out a moan, sucking Hiroshi and opening yourself up is weird, well. You’ve opened yourself up before. But doing this both at the same time is weird.

Weird but you liked it.

Hiroshi then pulled your mouth from his cock, precums slowly coming from the slit of his glans as he used his thumb and index, he gently pulled your tongue out. There were some of his precums in your mouth, your face was red—Hiroshi ‘s eyes narrowed at your mouth. “Stood up.”

Hiroshi looked at you the moment you stood—his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you over his lap, his cock was in front of your clothed stomach, Hiroshi then pulled down your pants and throwing them to the floor. With your lower now bare, he ripped the dress shirt—the buttons scattering everywhere. Your hand grabbed his wrists but your chest is now bare. It’s unfair… he’s still using his jacket!

A smirk played on Hiroshi’s lips as his hands moved over your hips, lifting you up. He moved you where your hole and his dick brushed over each other, you shivered by that. Hiroshi slowly pushed you down over his cock, his glans were inside of you—it stretched you out so much. You didn’t measure it would stretched you this much, but thanks to his precums, at least. It doesn’t hurt.

Hiroshi’s hand grabbed your ass and squeezed your flesh, before he landed aloud smack that made you whined. You swore it would leave a mark, so Hiroshi gently soothed the sting with his hand. He whispered sweet nothings, he thrust his hips upwards—making you whimpered.

His cock was big, thick and enough to rubbed over your prostate. Your mind was fuzzy, his hands were all over you too… his lips kept pressing to your neck with his unforgiving pace, his fingers traced your body like it was a hidden treasure. Your own dick twitched, moans you struggled to keep down kept spilling from your lips.

And Hiroshi knew, he looked at your cockdumb face, he hummed softly next to your ear as he rested his chin over your shoulder. He stopped his face, Hiroshi’s free hand slapped your ass—a finger entered your hole, you hissed as you moved at your own pace since, well. He isn’t moving and you were desperate to cum.

Hiroshi’s finger was next to his cock, your hands gripped to his jacket when you finally—come undone. A loud moan that you didn’t expect came from your lips, you were a whimpering—whining mess. You stained Hiroshi’s jacket you knew was expensive as fuck. But you’re too tired, at least. For now.

You tried to shifted—trying to get a comfy position when you felt warmth filling your hole, you twitched as Hiroshi pulled out his cock from your puffy hole. You let out a silent whine, Hiroshi looked down. Damn, he sure made a mess out of you, he was about to apologize when he saw you already sleeping in his hold, he fisted his hand, trying not to go horny.

“Good… good night.”

The morning from the window of Hiroshi’s room was annoying for you, do all idols woke up so early in the morning?

You sat up, your body was sore as fuck. Hiroshi was sleeping beside you, hair messy and his arms wrapping around your waist. You tried to pray him off—which ended with a tightened grip. Well, that was useless.

You turned your head over your phone that was charged on the nightstand, you suspected who do it was Hiroshi, but you just shrugged, thinking about it later. You opened your phone, the amount of notifications?

Haruka (mom, lmao) 10 hours ago

Missed Called

Haruka (mom, lmao) 10 hours ago

Missed Called

Haruka (mom, lmao) 10 hours ago

Missed Called

You forgot about Haruka. Shit—! You slightly panicked, Hiroshi groaned when you squirm, his arms tightened once more—making you nearly unable to breath.

“Hiros—Sato-san! Please, get of me. My manager—” Hiroshi leaned forward to placed a kiss over your lips, silencing enough as he pulled the kiss. Pressing his finger over your lips.

“…Just Hiroshi. Please,” he begged, his voice was deep. Maybe from his sleep, Hiroshi sat next to you, giving you his jacket as he stood up. “Get ready then, I’ll bring you to Yamada-san.”

You sat there dumbfounded as Hiroshi then walked away to his kitchen, opening his fridge calmly, like he didn’t do anything lewd last night with you.

Hiroshi fun facts — !

🎡 — Hiroshi canonically fly to the Philippines, because he heard in a fast-food restaurant that shall be unnamed were having a collab with you, and actually paid the restaurant to buy the cutouts of you.

🎡 — Hiroshi, being the horny and creepy man that he was, goon to your pics. And, unfortunately for Tenma, he saw him and Hiroshi just... shrugged. Continuing his lewd act.

🎭 — taglist : @onementally-unstabel-kid @starrykie @carnalcrows (lmao you didn't specify so both tagged it is)