demensrage

[demensrage]

love when fictional men are so devoted to their partner it makes them dangerous and insane. very slutty behavior keep it up king

[demensrage]

Could you please make a masterlist of your works🙏🏼

I'm working on it, but it will be published soon!

[demensrage]

──── DEPRIVED OF OXYGEN

summary: Guts, saddled with the responsibility of being a lone father, struggles to protect his daughter while pursuing his destiny as a mercenary. As the violence of his world intensifies, his bond with her is tested, both in times of peace and despair.

featuring: Guts and his daughter, Griffith and The Band of the Hawk.

content contains: father-daughter relationship in a dangerous world, influence and manipulation in complex relationships, mentions of violence and survival, slight child neglect and emotional detachment (because Berserk isn't pretty), with a touch of tenderness in the midst of chaos.

wordcount: 7.7k

© demensrage 2025. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

back to the first part

The sun had partially hidden behind the mountains, casting a warm and comforting shadow under the tree. Guts sat there, exhausted. It wasn't the physical tiredness from battles, nor the emotional exhaustion from the losses. It was a deeper fatigue, the kind that gets under your skin when there is no rest, and all you want is a damn minute of peace.

His sword rested beside him as he watched the girl, who was no longer the small child who could barely speak. She was now three years old, a perfect replica of him, but with curly hair that Guts didn't know how to handle, so he kept it short and messy, just like his.

Rhea, sitting on the ground in front of him, held a crayon in one hand and a sheet of paper in the other, a gift from Griffith, or more accurately, something Griffith had left for Guts to use during his free time. The girl didn't know how to use it properly yet, but she liked scribbling on the paper, mimicking her father's gestures when he drew or made marks on the ground.

Rhea murmured unintelligible words as she traced erratic lines, imitating Guts' sounds, repeating everything he said, like an absorbent sponge, and although her words didn’t make much sense, she did it with a precision that irritated Guts. Every so often, she looked up and smiled, her face mirroring his more than he’d like to admit.

"Uncle Fifi!" Rhea said, dropping the crayon and pointing at the box. "Uncle Fifi!" she repeated, as if that was the only way to name the man who had been closest to her, although neither Guts nor she truly understood their relationship. The girl couldn’t say "Griffith," so she called him however it came out, with a mix of effort and playfulness that Guts couldn’t help but find uncomfortable.

The sound of the girl repeating "Uncle Fifi" filled his ears like a constant drop of water. In his mind, something deep down wondered why Griffith, the man who had raised his sword against him, bothered to give things to Rhea, to take care of her in his absence, to call her "his" when she wasn’t. Why didn’t the girl seem to care about any of that? She only repeated what she heard. But in the end, did it really matter if she was his? Guts cared for her in his own way, and just like with his sword, his words became rough, sharp, without much thought behind them.

"Enough of that, girl," Guts said in a tired voice, scratching his head as he saw the little one enjoying the endless game. How many more times would she repeat those damn words until he had the patience to teach something worth learning?

"Enough… girl," she said, laughing at her own words. Because Rhea would always find it fun to imitate her father, even when he seemed tired of her.

"Why do you imitate me all the time, huh?" he asked with an ironic smile as he watched her draw. He didn’t expect an answer, but the girl looked up as if she had truly heard the question. "You know, Rhea?" Guts said after a long silence, his voice barely a whisper. "You're just like me… I swear."

The girl looked at him with those green-amber eyes that faded into a dark shade, the same challenging look that Guts saw in the mirror every morning. "Papa… Guts," she said, smiling slightly, as if she had a little secret that only she understood.

Guts couldn’t help but smile slightly upon hearing her. He couldn’t stop thinking that, despite all the chaos and violence in his life, she was the only thing keeping him connected to something that could be considered normal.

"Come on, Rhea. We need to leave," he murmured, standing up as he grabbed his sword. "Whatever comes, comes."

Rhea looked at him and repeated, with an innocent voice: "Whatever comes… whatever comes…"

Guts walked down the dusty path, the weight of his sword and the child in his arms a constant reminder of what it meant now to be responsible for something more than himself. The mercenary life had never been a walk in the park, but carrying Rhea with him had put everything into perspective. He could no longer charge into battle without thinking of her, of the consequences of his actions.

As he moved forward, his eyes drifted to the house in the distance, the band’s camp. It was the only place Rhea knew as home, the only place where she’d had something close to stability. Guts couldn’t help but be grateful for that, even though his pride churned a bit at the thought of Griffith. The truth was that, despite the tensions and manipulative nature of Griffith, he had given the girl what Guts could never provide: a roof, a safe space to grow. Although he wouldn't openly admit it, something inside Guts knew that, in some way, the band had given Rhea the opportunity to be a normal child, even if the place was filled with mercenaries and violent men.

As he walked, Guts thought of Casca. She was the closest thing Rhea had to a mother, even though she wasn’t. Guts didn’t know how to handle his relationship with her: they weren’t friends, but they weren’t enemies either. There were moments of understanding between them, moments when he could trust her, especially when it came to looking after Rhea. There was something about Casca, a kind of maternal strength, even if she wasn’t willing to admit it, that gave him peace. He didn’t know why, but he felt Casca could be a protective figure for the girl, despite the war between them.

"You’ll be fine, little one," Guts murmured, looking at the girl who, although playful, watched him with that unmistakable intensity. She seemed to understand more than he wanted to admit. "Don’t worry. I’ll protect you."

As they reached the camp, the sounds of laughter and conversation from the men grew louder. But Guts wasn’t there to socialize or chat. He just wanted to make sure the girl was safe. As he approached the house, he saw Casca standing in front of the entrance, gazing at the horizon, as if she was waiting for something.

Guts approached without a word, but Casca immediately looked at him, her eyes tired but alert.

"Are you going to leave her here again?" Casca asked with a raised eyebrow, her tone expressionless, but with the clear concern of someone who had seen Guts with the girl more times than he would have liked.

"Yes," Guts replied with a sigh. "It’s best for her."

Casca didn’t say anything more, she just stepped back, leaving space for Guts to pass with the girl. It wasn’t a gesture of affection, not by a long shot, but it was a tacit acknowledgment that, in this strange dynamic, she would be there to look after the little one.

"Just don’t spoil her," Guts warned, as if he had any say in the matter, though he already knew he couldn’t control everything that happened with the girl under Casca’s care. But, somehow, he felt like he could trust her. In her own way, Casca had protected him, and by extension, she would do the same for Rhea.

Casca didn’t reply, she just watched Guts as he placed the girl in her arms, looked at her for a moment, and then turned toward the camp, ready to deal with whatever came next.

"I hope she grows up well here," he murmured, almost to himself, as he walked away, leaving Casca to take care of what remained.

The girl, who seemed already used to the changes in her life, simply watched Guts with a gaze that seemed to understand more than he wished. She knew her father came and went, but for some reason, she trusted him, as if all the chaos around them was simply part of what it meant to be together.

Rhea had reached a point where the band’s house was no longer a strange place to her. With Griffith and Casca nearby, she felt that, in some way, she had a safe space in the middle of the chaos. However, what truly filled her heart was the presence of her father. More and more, her little eyes searched for Guts in the crowd, and her small arms stretched out toward him when he was near. The bond that united them couldn’t be compared to anything else. Her childlike love for him was pure, unconditional, as only a child could love their protector.

She no longer liked it when Guts left; she didn’t like that empty feeling that took over her when he wasn’t by her side. Sometimes, when he left, the little girl would cling to his clothes, hoping he wouldn’t go, but in the end, he always left, leaving her with that small knot of loneliness in her chest. She didn’t fully understand why he left, but in her childish mind, there was only one conclusion: she wanted her dad close, always.

Rhea didn’t fully grasp the tensions within the band, nor the conversations Griffith had with Guts. To her, those things were just noise, things that didn’t break the love she felt for her father. Her world was simple and clear: she loved Guts, wanted to be with him, and everything else seemed irrelevant.

As she played with the small colors Griffith had given her, her eyes sparkled with an innocence that only children have. Sometimes, she liked to imitate her father, repeat his words, make the same gestures. She had already learned some words, although she was still a small child who used her simple language to express herself. But what she loved most was when Guts talked to her, when he looked at her as if he truly saw her, as if everything else stopped existing for a moment.

Even though Griffith had become an important figure in her life, a kind of guide who taught her things she didn’t fully understand, and Casca a sort of maternal presence, Rhea only saw her father as her true refuge. Her childish heart fed off the attention he gave her, even if it was in fleeting moments. Sometimes she thought that, if she could, she would stay in his arms forever, away from all the pain and violence surrounding them.

But she was still small, and her thoughts were simple and clear, like the colors on her sheet. She only wished her dad wouldn’t leave, that she would never have to be away from him again, that the battles and shadows that loomed around her wouldn’t be a part of her life. In her innocence, Rhea thought the world could be as simple as her father’s love, as clear as his laughter and their little moments together.

Rhea sat cross-legged on the windowsill, her small eyes gazing at the horizon, hoping to see her father appear. Every time he left, something in her heart tightened, but at the same time, she knew he would return, even if she didn’t always understand the reasons for his absences. The little girl didn’t fully understand the adult world, nor her father’s travels, nor the battles he fought, but in her heart, all she knew was that he always came back to her.

The window was her observation point, her little watchtower from where she could see the path Guts traveled. She was used to the waiting, to the silence that accompanied her small figure sitting there, hands on her knees and a calm face, but with that sparkle in her eyes, that sparkle that only lit up when she thought of him. She had learned to recognize her father’s steps, the way his boots echoed on the ground, the sound of his breath as he got closer. And when she finally saw him, her heart would fill with an emotion she couldn’t describe but that manifested in a radiant smile, full of purity.

While she waited, her thoughts would scatter between games and words, occasionally repeating some sound or gesture of Guts. Sometimes, without realizing it, her little hands would move in the air, mimicking the shapes he made when he was with her. It was as if her father were present even when he wasn’t, because in her mind, he filled up all the space.

The days grew long, and the little girl’s patience seemed unbreakable. To her, time wasn’t an exact measure, but rather a wait full of promises. She knew that, sooner or later, he would return. And in the meantime, she kept looking out the window, waiting for his return, not fully understanding the reasons that kept Guts away, but with an absolute certainty that he was the person she loved most in the world.

Her world was simple and secure in that moment because everything she needed was there: the window that connected her to the outside world, the wait for her father, and that unconditional love that only a child like Rhea could feel.

Griffith was standing at the entrance of the house in the camp, his silhouette outlined against the light of the setting sun. It had been a long day organizing tasks for the band, but he still patiently awaited Rhea’s arrival. The sound of children's laughter announced her return before she emerged between the trees. Casca was behind her, carrying a small bouquet of flowers that Rhea had picked with her help. When the girl saw Griffith, she let go of Casca’s hand and ran toward him with excitement.

Rhea had always felt a childlike fascination for Griffith. His snow-white hair and soft voice had a calming effect on her, as if she was always safe when he was nearby. Griffith, with his innate ability to capture the hearts of those around him, made sure to nurture this image in front of the girl. He often picked her up, lifted her into the air, and gave her small, carefully selected toys that, although they seemed innocent, were pieces in a larger game that only he understood.

Griffith saw in Rhea an opportunity, a tool with the potential to be molded to his advantage. Under his guidance, the girl became accustomed to listening to fantastical stories that Griffith would tell her with an almost paternal sweetness. He used dolls and wooden figures to act out these stories, but behind the apparent innocence, there was a precise intention. Each story carried a message: destiny could not be defied, the strong ruled, and the weak served. The little soldiers and toy horses that Rhea moved across the floor of her room were part of a world carefully designed by Griffith, where divine will dictated the lives of all.

Griffith leaned down to receive her, lifting her into the air with a fluid, natural motion, as if she were an extension of himself. "My sweet Rhea," he said with a warm smile, the same one he reserved for those he wished to envelop in his charisma. The girl giggled, hanging from his neck as he held her with a ease that seemed almost rehearsed.

Casca watched them from a few steps back, her eyes narrowed, as if trying to decipher the intentions behind so much sweetness. But Griffith didn’t bother hiding his apparent devotion. He stroked Rhea’s short hair, messy and still with a few petals tangled in it, as she proudly showed him a flower she had kept for him. "It's for you, Uncle Fifi," she said in her small voice, clumsily pronouncing his nickname. Griffith accepted the gift as if it were the most valuable object in the world, looking at her with a tenderness that seemed genuine.

Later, while Rhea played on the floor of the house, her small wooden soldiers arranged in a battle line, she repeated fragments of the words she had heard from Griffith. "The strong rule!" she exclaimed, lifting the white knight that Griffith had given her. Then she stopped, looking at the knight with a furrowed brow, as if trying to understand something just beyond her grasp. "Uncle Fifi, what is... purs... that?" she asked, looking up at him.

Griffith, who was sitting nearby with a glass of wine in his hand, smiled slightly. "Purpose," he corrected softly, sitting down next to her. "It's what guides the strong, Rhea. It's what makes people find their place in this world." His voice was sweet, almost musical, as he took the white knight from her hands and placed it at the center of the makeshift board. "This knight has a purpose: to lead and protect. And you, my sweet Rhea, have one too, though you may not know it yet."

The girl looked at him with those big eyes, full of childlike curiosity. "Like you, Uncle Fifi? Your big dream?"

He nodded, his smile as captivating as it was dangerous. "Exactly, my little one. Always remember: those who don't have dreams are toys of destiny. But those who do, they shape their own path."

The girl nodded seriously, as if she fully understood what Griffith was saying. Then she returned to her games, repeating the words he had taught her as she moved the pieces. Griffith watched her for a moment, his expression impenetrable. To him, the girl was a reflection of his own ambition: a being shaped by the hands of destiny, ready to be guided toward a greater purpose.

However, behind that paternal facade, there was a cold strategy. Griffith knew that every word planted a seed, a small part of his ideals that, over time, would germinate in Rhea’s mind. He didn’t need to rush; time was on his side.

When the band gathered and the girl insisted on sitting next to Griffith, the others would joke with him. "Griffith, it looks like you have an apprentice," they would say. He would respond with a serene smile, stroking Rhea's hair. "She's a special girl," he would say, leaving in the air a meaning that no one dared to question.

When Guts was absent, Griffith seized every opportunity to mold her. He would tell her stories of great conquests, of sacrifices necessary to achieve greatness. "Common people will never understand what it means to be special, Rhea," he would say as he helped her tie her shoes. "But you can be different. You can be like me."

For Rhea, these words were fascinating, though she didn’t fully understand them. She began to repeat small phrases that Griffith told her, mimicking his tone precisely. "I have to have a purpose," she murmured to herself as she colored. "Toys don’t have dreams."

For Guts, these words would pass unnoticed. For Griffith, they were a carefully planted seed.

Guts returned to the camp after two long months of absence. His face was marked by exhaustion, the despair of not finding answers to his own demons. During those days, he had been consumed by battles and the need to earn enough money to secure a future for his daughter, a future he couldn’t guarantee. His mind was full of doubts and inner storms, and although he wouldn’t admit it, the fear of losing Rhea had relentlessly haunted him.

He approached the small tent where Rhea was playing, unaware of everything her father had been through, happy in her little world of innocence. Guts, with the small dagger in hand, watched her for a moment before entering.

Rhea looked up when she heard her father’s footsteps. Her face lit up at the sight of him, but Guts, with his grave expression, didn’t return her smile. His mind was too unsettled, his hands too tightly gripping the dagger’s hilt. He didn’t know whether he was more upset with himself for having left her alone for so long, or by the fear that, when life became harder, he wouldn’t be able to protect her from everything the world had in store for her.

“Rhea,” his voice was rough, tense, filled with a pain he didn’t want to acknowledge. The girl looked at him confused, not understanding. “Listen carefully. This is not a game. You can’t live without knowing how to defend yourself. I won’t always be here to protect you.”

The girl took the dagger in her hands, looking at it with curiosity. She had learned to recognize dangerous objects, but she didn’t understand why her father was giving her one, especially when he had always told her not to touch things like that. Still, her trust in him was blind; she looked at him without hesitation, waiting for some sign of what was expected from her.

Guts watched Rhea as she absentmindedly played on the ground, the small dagger in her hands, trying to mimic what her father had shown her just moments before. It was a strange image: the girl, so small, so innocent, holding such a dangerous weapon, while he stood tense, eyes fixed, body rigid, as if waiting for the exact moment to react. But that moment never came.

The dagger in Rhea’s hands was small, almost comical in its tiny size, but to Guts, that object represented something much larger, much more urgent. Danger was always lurking, and he knew he couldn’t protect her forever. He couldn’t keep her safe from all the evil in the world. Sometimes, Guts thought that the best way to love his daughter was to prepare her, train her, make her strong, make her capable of defending herself, because in this cruel world, there were no guarantees. No one was safe. He couldn’t be there forever. He couldn’t be the wall that shielded her at all times.

“Come on, Rhea! Attack me! Defend yourself! I won’t be alive forever, girl, defend yourself!” His voice was a roar of desperation, and his body tensed like a string ready to snap. Fury and fear mixed inside him as he watched the girl raise the dagger, but she did nothing but look at it with a confused expression.

Fear squeezed his chest. Was he being too cruel with her? Was he pushing her too fast, too hard? But he couldn’t bear to see the innocence in her eyes, the same innocence he had had in his childhood, the same one that had cost him so much to survive. The same innocence that had left him vulnerable as a child, the one that had marked him for life.

Rhea didn’t understand. Her hands trembled slightly, eyes fixed on the dagger as if trying to comprehend how to use it, why her father wanted her to use it. She didn’t understand what he felt, the pain in his heart at having to do this, at having to teach her how to survive, at having to take her childhood to give her the only thing he knew.

Rhea, frightened, dropped the dagger to the ground, looking at her father with eyes full of confusion. “Daddy... I don’t understand...” Her words were soft, small, filled with the same vulnerability he felt.

Guts remained silent for a moment. His throat tightened. He knew Rhea didn’t understand, but the anguish in his chest prevented him from finding a gentle way to explain it. This was the only way he could try to protect her, even if it meant breaking the innocence she still had.

With a heavy sigh, Guts stood up and walked closer to her, taking her by the shoulders, forcing her to look him straight in the eyes.

“Listen, Rhea...” His voice was low, almost a growl. “The world is not a nice place. You won’t always be safe. People aren’t always kind. Do you understand? And when I’m no longer here, you’ll have to defend yourself.”

Rhea looked at him, her big eyes searching for understanding, but her father’s words only confused her more.

Guts gritted his teeth and, without further ado, took the dagger from the girl’s hands and, with a swift motion, placed it in front of him, as if to show her what to do.

“This is what you need to do, Rhea. When someone comes to hurt you, when you feel they’re attacking you, don’t hesitate. There’s no time for that. You have to defend yourself, you have to drive this into their neck, into their heart...” he explained, pointing to the spot he tapped with his finger, his face as serious as ever. “There are no rules, only survival. If you don’t do it, they’ll kill you. And if you don’t do it, what will you do then, huh? Let someone hurt you? Let them kill you without being able to do anything?”

The little girl stayed silent, her father’s words hard to comprehend, but the tone of his voice, the harshness in his gaze, told her that what he said was no joke. She didn’t understand everything it meant, but she knew that if Daddy told her to do something, she had to do it.

Guts swallowed, feeling the pain pierce through him as he saw her like this, so small, so vulnerable, and yet, he couldn’t retreat. “Do it because you can’t trust anyone but yourself.” he said in a grave voice, stepping away, giving her space to process what had just happened.

The dagger fell to the ground with a dull sound, its blade briefly glinting in the dim light of the evening. Rhea, with tears in her eyes, stared at it terrified as if the metal piece were a monster she didn’t want to approach. Her small hands pressed against her chest as she sobbed, shouting: “I don’t want to! I don’t want to! I don’t want that, Daddy!”

The scream came from her throat, a pure lament of a girl who didn’t understand the cruel reality her father was trying to teach her. Anger and frustration reflected in her face, but there was something else. Fear. The fear of facing a world that wasn’t made for the innocent.

Guts stood still for a moment, the image of his daughter throwing the dagger to the ground as if rejecting what he had given her burned into his chest, deep inside. His own eyes, hardened by years of struggle and pain, opened slightly as he saw the anguish in Rhea’s face. She didn’t understand, she shouldn’t understand yet, but paternal love hit him like a wave.

Suddenly, the fury vanished from his face, and desperation left him powerless. He crouched in front of the girl, looking at her with pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Rhea. I'm so sorry." He hugged her gently, wishing he could turn back time, erase everything that had just happened.

The girl, still confused, hugged him back, not fully understanding what had just occurred but recognizing the sadness in her father's embrace.

At that moment, Guts understood something deeper than the teachings of battle. He could prepare her for the world, but he couldn’t take away what made her human: her right to be a child. Still, the weight of his decisions tormented him.

Guts softly stroked Rhea’s hair as he held her, a gesture filled with both tenderness and despair. The girl, her eyes still swollen from crying, slowly nodded, seeking solace in her father’s strength, in the silent promise that he would be there for her. Despite the internal struggle he felt, Guts clung to the idea that, at least for a while, he could give her something resembling a normal life. Something better.

“Dad’s going to take care of something and then come get you so we can leave,” he whispered in a low voice, almost a promise, as he gently stroked her head.

The girl clung to his shirt, refusing to let go, looking at her father with unwavering trust in her childish eyes. Despite everything, she believed in him, in his strength, in his love. But something inside Guts knew that trust could shatter if things didn’t change—if they couldn’t find a way out of this life of violence and fear.

With one last look at Rhea, Guts stood and left the small house where they had taken shelter, heading straight to where Griffith awaited him. The challenge was already on his mind—the need to escape, to take his daughter away from this place and from Griffith’s influence, which always seemed to control everything.

The battle between them was swift but brutal. Guts fought with desperate intensity, as if every strike was meant to free him from the chains binding him to this life. And when he finally brought Griffith down, the silence that followed was heavier than any battle cry.

Griffith rose slowly, covering his wounds, and when his eyes met Guts’s, a crooked smile appeared on his lips. It wasn’t a smile of defeat but one that showed absolute control, as if he were prepared for anything.

“I thought you knew better than that, Guts,” Griffith said, his voice soft but laced with venom. “I thought you knew this isn’t just about Rhea. If you leave, what do you think will happen to her? What kind of life awaits her under your care?”

Guts gritted his teeth, saying nothing. The anger in his chest grew, but something in Griffith’s words held him back—a doubt that clung to his soul. He couldn’t fail Rhea. He couldn’t let anything happen to her.

Griffith stepped closer, his eyes locked on Guts’s, and continued: “What Rhea needs is a future, Guts. A safe future. If you take her with you, what will you offer her? What can you give her that compares to what I can provide? My reign, my power—if she’s by my side, it will all be hers. Everything. You can leave, but remember, if you do, the world I’ll build will give Rhea what you never could: protection, resources, stability... and most importantly, survival.”

Griffith’s voice softened, almost a seductive whisper: “Do you really want to be the kind of father who leaves her at the mercy of this world, Guts? The kind of father who believes he can protect her with a sword? You’re a man... but she’s just a child. You have no idea what the world has in store for her. And you won’t always be able to defend her.”

Guts felt a pang in his chest—a mix of rage and guilt. Griffith’s words were like sharp daggers piercing his insecurities. Would he really be able to protect her? Could he truly give her what she needed?

But then Griffith ended with a cold smile: “If you have Rhea, then you have me. And if you leave, I can’t guarantee her survival. Are you really so foolish as to not see that?”

The venom in his words was palpable, the manipulation so subtle that even Guts felt the doubt creeping into his mind. But his heart—the same heart that had fought to survive all these years—couldn’t afford to give in. Rhea was his daughter. He couldn’t leave her in the hands of someone like Griffith, no matter how tempting the promises of a better future were.

With his eyes locked on Griffith’s, Guts gathered his courage, his heart filled with determination. “I don’t need you, Griffith. I don’t need you to protect my daughter. I’ll protect her my way, even if it means losing everything,” he said, his voice deep, firm, but tinged with an unhidden pain. “And if she has to survive in this world, she’ll do it by my side. Not at your expense.”

Without waiting for a response, Guts turned and walked away, leaving Griffith’s poisonous words behind. He could feel the weight in his chest, the anguish choking him, but as he glanced back, seeing Griffith’s figure in the distance, he knew he had made the right choice.

Rhea was his only family. And whatever the world had in store for him, he would face it with her by his side. No matter what Griffith had said or promised, Guts was willing to fight for her.

It was a somber afternoon when Guts arrived, his hands still stained with blood, at the shelter he had planned to hide in. He had killed for her, for his daughter. To ensure Rhea had a safe place, one no one could take from her. His own home—the cabin that had once belonged to others—was now under his control. And with it came the heavy burden of his paranoia. He knew the world was cruel and that any trace of vulnerability would be exploited. He couldn’t take that risk.

The little girl, barely four years old, played in a corner, unaware of the internal storm consuming her father. Her hair, grown longer than Guts would have liked, fell messily over her face as she played with a broken doll. Sometimes, Guts wished things were different, that she could have the innocence every child deserved, free from the weight of the world on her small shoulders. But he knew life wasn’t fair. And he would protect her, even if it meant turning her into something she shouldn’t have to be.

"Rhea," he said gravely, approaching her. The child looked up, the brightness in her eyes reflecting an understanding far beyond her years. She knew something wasn’t right—that her father was worried, that something dark loomed ahead.

“What’s wrong, Dad?” she asked, her small voice steady but curious.

Guts couldn’t lie to her. He knew he had to prepare her, even though she was too young to grasp what was coming. “Listen, never forget what I’m about to tell you. Understand?” Rhea nodded, watching her father intently.

“When the worst happens,” Guts continued, his voice rough and low, “you must hide, and don’t come out until I return. Under the bed, like I showed you. It will always keep you safe. Do you understand?”

Rhea, with her childlike defiance, made a face. “But I don’t want to hide, Dad. I want to be with you... and Uncle Fifi too.”

Guts clenched his teeth, the accumulated anger from everything he had done to keep his daughter safe erupting in his chest. “You don’t understand! No one will protect you like I will—not Griffith, not anyone. And I don’t want you to see me die along the way. If you won’t listen for your own sake, do it for me, will you?” His voice cracked, becoming rough and desperate.

Rhea looked at him, her expression a mixture of confusion and instinctive obedience to her father’s words. “I promise, Dad,” she said, even though she didn’t fully understand what was being asked of her. But, like any child, she trusted him blindly.

Guts knelt, gripping her shoulders firmly. “Remember, Rhea. Never forget what I told you. This place—this hole—it’s your only refuge. Don’t come out of there, do you hear me? People... the world isn’t good. And if anyone comes for you, you stay there and don’t let them find you. Promise me.”

The girl nodded with an innocent smile. “I promise.”

But Guts couldn’t relax. Every time he left, he gave her the same speech. Each time, he watched from afar, vigilant, as she hid under the bed as he had taught her.

The hole he had dug with his own hands, night after night, was ready. A makeshift but functional shelter. Rhea didn’t understand the gravity of what was happening, nor why her father was so tense, so aggressive, but she sensed something in the air. The days grew darker, the atmosphere heavier. Guts was willing to sacrifice everything for her, but he couldn’t shake the guilt.

The atmosphere grew more oppressive, the weight of the impending eclipse hanging over their lives. Guts didn’t know if fear or anger consumed him more. He woke that morning with his heart pounding in his chest, and when he saw the empty spot beside the bed, anguish stabbed through him like a cold dagger. Rhea was gone.

He ran through the house, shouting her name, searching the shadows, every corner. Hours passed, and desperation enveloped him like a thick fog. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t. His little girl... his daughter. What had happened to her? He cursed himself for not being more vigilant, for not keeping her under control.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the air grew dense, the night darker. When Guts finally reached the village market, his heart skipped a beat. There, in the middle of the crowd, was Rhea. She was playing with a small boy on a cart, laughing carefreely as if nothing were wrong. The horror in his chest intensified at seeing her so unconcerned, oblivious to the chaos raging inside him.

He rushed toward her in desperation, his breathing ragged. He picked her up with more force than he intended, his gaze fixed on her, demanding answers.

“Rhea! Why did you leave the house? I told you not to leave!” His voice was a mix of anger and fear, but also a softness, a brokenness, as if he wasn’t sure anymore if the little girl understood him.

Rhea, with her big, wide eyes, looked at him confused. Then, in a strange and unfamiliar gesture, she held up a small flower crown and offered it to him. “Look, Dad! Uncle Fifi gave me this! He says I’ll be the queen. My purpose... I’ll be Uncle Fifi’s dream queen.”

The air grew heavier. Rhea’s words hit Guts like a sledgehammer. His daughter, that innocent, pure little girl, spoke with an unsettling clarity. What was she talking about? What did it all mean? The child, with her innocent smile, held the crown as if it were a precious jewel, as if she understood what Griffith had planned for her.

Confusion, anger, fear, and helplessness swirled inside Guts as he began to realize what he had refused to see. Griffith had marked his daughter in a sinister way, wrapping her in his dreams and lies, and the child followed him unknowingly. She was being prepared, molded into an image far removed from the cruel reality Guts tried to shield her from.

“Uncle Fifi’s dream...” Guts repeated, the words choking in his throat as despair flooded him. “What do you mean by that, Rhea? I told you, you have to stay with me! With me, not with him!”

But the child didn’t understand. She only saw her father, whom she loved, and loved with the blind devotion of a little girl who had yet to know darkness. Guts hugged her tightly, feeling her small head on his shoulder—everything that remained of the simple life he had once had, free from Griffith’s grasp. As he held her, he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, the tension of having failed, of not protecting her from what was already taking root inside her, from what Griffith had planted in her heart. Still, despite it all, he was her father, and that part of him wouldn’t give up.

“No, Rhea,” he said, his voice carrying a soft but firm resolve, as he ran a trembling hand through her hair, seeking the warmth in his daughter to reaffirm that some part of her was still pure. “Your purpose is to be Daddy’s little girl.”

With those words, Guts leaned down and placed the flower crown on Rhea’s small head—a symbol of his love, but also a barrier, a defense against everything Griffith represented.

“Now you’re the queen of Daddy’s heart,” he continued, his voice breaking but filled with fierce intensity. It didn’t matter what Griffith had planned for her. It didn’t matter where the path he was leading her down went. The only thing that mattered, the only thing Guts could do, was protect his daughter, keep her safe from the dark fate looming over her.

Rhea looked up at her father with her wide, innocent eyes, unable to fully grasp the weight of the words he had just spoken. To the child, he was nothing more than the figure who held her close, keeping her safe in his arms, unaware of what "daddy's little queen" truly meant in a world crumbling around them.

"Daddy's little queen..." she repeated, her lips curving into a small, trusting smile, as though the crown he had just placed upon her granted her absolute power. She did not yet know that this crown was one of love and despair, a prison disguised as a gift.

Guts closed his eyes for a moment, holding her even tighter as the sun began to sink completely. The eclipse was about to cover the sky, bringing with it memories, choices, sacrifices, and the war raging in the shadows.

The wind howled through the encroaching darkness as Guts looked at his daughter with a mix of love and dread, trying not to think about what was about to happen. Rhea, innocent as ever, smiled as the night fell, as if everything was as it should be. But something shifted in the air, and when she asked about their home, Guts felt his world collapse around him.

"Where is home?" Rhea asked, taking his hand with the same unwavering trust as always, unaware that the place she pointed to was nothing but an illusion—a mirage of safety that no longer existed.

Then, the air warped. A tear in time and space opened before them—a portal that Guts recognized with horror. The dimensional nexus unfolded, and in the blink of an eye, everything he knew was gone. In its place were the members of the Band, Griffith, and the looming figures of the God Hand. Everything had changed.

Rhea looked around, her eyes shining with wonder, but Guts couldn’t let her see. He grabbed her tightly, covering her eyes with his hand. He didn’t want her to see what was happening, didn’t want her to know the terror closing in on her. But it was already too late. At that very moment, the Brand of Sacrifice burned into Rhea’s forehead, searing her skin and marking her as the chosen one.

Guts’s heart shattered. Despair overwhelmed him, a pain as deep as the abyss taking hold of his soul. As his daughter writhed in his arms, trying to understand what was happening, Guts clung to her as if he could shield her, as if he could save her from the inevitable. But nothing could stop what had already begun.

Suddenly, one of the Apostles appeared before them—a monstrous, grotesque figure with unstoppable strength. Guts tried to protect Rhea, but it was futile. With brutal force, the Apostle tore the child from his arms. Guts felt his heart rip apart as he heard Rhea’s desperate scream.

“Daddy! Daddy!” Rhea cried, her voice filled with terror, her hand reaching out for him as the Apostle lifted her into the air as if she were nothing more than a trinket.

Guts lunged toward them with fury, but it was too late. The child who was his life, his little queen, was ripped from his side, leaving behind only the echo of her scream—a scream of despair that tore Guts’s soul apart.

Rhea… was gone.

Darkness enveloped the scene as chaos erupted around him. The Band of the Hawk, the Apostles, Griffith—everything dissolved into a frenzy of blood and death. But Guts saw none of it. He could only see his daughter’s face, the fear in her eyes, her lifeless body, her heart that no longer beat.

“Rhea!” Guts cried, but the words choked in his throat, drowned by agony and helplessness. He had failed. He had failed as a father, as a protector. The child he had sworn to save, the child for whom he had tried to give everything, was no longer there.

And the eclipse continued its course, a harrowing reminder of the inevitable, of the sacrifice he could never prevent. Guts fell to his knees, his soul shattered, as the sounds of screams and battle raged around him. But nothing else mattered. The only scream Guts could hear was Rhea’s, calling for help, calling for her father, who could never reach her in time.

[demensrage]

──── DEPRIVED OF OXYGEN

summary: Guts, saddled with the responsibility of being a lone father, struggles to protect his daughter while pursuing his destiny as a mercenary. As the violence of his world intensifies, his bond with her is tested, both in times of peace and despair.

featuring: Guts and his daughter, Griffith and The Band of the Hawk.

content contains: father-daughter relationship in a dangerous world, influence and manipulation in complex relationships, mentions of violence and survival, slight child neglect and emotional detachment (because Berserk isn't pretty), with a touch of tenderness in the midst of chaos.

wordcount: 7.2k

© demensrage 2025. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

last part

The pale moon rose in the sky, tinged with a faint red hue that seemed to foretell disaster. Guts walked beneath its light with heavy steps, feeling the constant sway of the baby carrier strapped to his shoulder. The fabric was loose again, and he cursed under his breath as he stopped to adjust it. "Cries like a demon," he muttered, frowning as he glanced at the small creature dozing in the makeshift sling. "This is only going to bring trouble."

Just four months ago, his world had turned upside down, not on the battlefield as he might have expected, but in the quiet refuge of a village he used to visit between jobs. He had returned, hoping to find the familiar calm of an old friend. Instead, he was met with a freshly dug grave and an old woman holding a baby whose eyes seemed to have stolen the colors of a sunset: a greenish amber fading into a dark grayish blue, glowing like dying embers on her tiny face.

"She died giving birth," the woman had said, her voice broken with grief. "Her last word was your name… Guts."

He didn’t respond. What could he say? There was no room for comfort in his life, no room for life itself, let alone a child. Yet when the old woman stretched out her arms and placed the baby in his hands, he didn’t have the strength to give her back. He didn’t know if it was guilt, curiosity, or mere resignation.

The little one was, in some inexplicable way, a mirror of himself. Her face carried the same rough, almost fierce intensity, softened only by her dark, unruly curls that spiraled rebelliously on her small head as if defying any order, just as he did with life itself.

Now he wandered, searching for a place to stay because the streets were no place for such a small creature. But the weight of his burden—both physical and emotional—was beginning to break him. "What the hell am I supposed to do with you?" he thought over and over as the baby's cries pierced the stillness of the night.

Yet, despite his frustration, his grip never faltered. He held her with a firmness that belied his words, as if letting go would mean losing more than he was willing to admit. His clenched jaw and furrowed brow spoke of a battle unlike any he had ever fought. "This is bullshit," he muttered under his breath, readjusting the knots that threatened to give way.

He couldn’t simply leave her behind. The thought had crossed his mind more than once, but the sound of her crying—loud and heart-wrenching, as if the entire world were against her—would haunt him even if he tried. Besides, she could barely hold up her own head; it wobbled with every movement, too weak to keep pace with him. And that stressed him more than any armed enemy ever had.

Dealing with a baby who did nothing but cry, squirm, and draw unnecessary attention was a torment he had never imagined. Everything about it went against his way of life. Being a mercenary meant moving in silence, vanishing without a trace. But now he had a beacon announcing his presence with every desperate wail.

Even as exhaustion bore down on his shoulders, he didn’t stop. "Girl," he muttered, giving the fabric a light tug to ensure it wouldn’t slip. He hadn’t given her a name. He’d never thought of doing so, and if anyone asked, he wouldn’t even know if he cared. Yet there she was, clinging to his chest like a burden he had never asked for.

"This isn’t going to work," he said quietly, though he knew no one was listening, least of all her. Still, his arms tightened around the small figure, as if some unknown force compelled him to protect her, even as his life grew more complicated with each step.

Perhaps it was a sense of duty or the echo of Gambino’s words constantly ringing in his head: "You should’ve died under your mother’s corpse." The phrase stung like an old wound that never healed. Abandoning the child would feel like proving Gambino right, like pushing another defenseless being into a fate with no chance of survival. And though he refused to admit it aloud, that thought gnawed at him.

The girl stirred slightly, letting out a small whimper before curling up against his chest again. Guts glanced down at her tiny, fragile face, so small it seemed impossible that she could survive in a world like this. Her closed eyes, framed by long, curling lashes, seemed oblivious to the brutality around them. And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find any threat in her, no logical reason to leave her behind.

The baby carrier loosened again, and he exhaled in exasperation as he adjusted it once more. "I don’t know what the hell I’m doing with you," he muttered gruffly, though without intending to hurt. Talking to her, even like this, was better than the crushing silence that usually surrounded him.

The sky began to take on a leaden gray, heralding the arrival of dawn. Guts knew he needed to find shelter before the daylight exposed him. Every crossroads, every step, brought him closer to the edge of despair. But every time his hands touched the soft curls on the baby’s head, something within him refused to give up.

Perhaps it was guilt, or perhaps something deeper—something buried beneath years of violence and bloodshed. Whatever it was, it kept him moving. Not for himself, but for this small burden that seemed to be the only sliver of humanity he had left.

He knew abandoning her wouldn’t work. He’d tried it once before. He didn’t want the responsibility, not when he could barely manage his own existence. That night, with nerves frayed and his heart heavy, he left the girl in a basket on an old woman’s doorstep. He’d watched the woman for three nights straight, ensuring she had no apparent troubles, that she could offer a better home than he ever could.

He stayed for a moment, hidden in the shadows, listening to the girl’s cries as she beat her small fists against the fabric covering her. It was then he felt an indescribable weight, something he couldn’t name, that made him clench his fists and walk away before he could change his mind.

This is what’s best for her, he repeated as he walked into the darkness. But doubt consumed him from the moment he could no longer hear her. The following day was chaos, trapped in his own decision, unable to move forward but too stubborn to go back.

When he finally convinced himself to return, it was too late. As night fell, smoke rose on the horizon. The village had been attacked, raided by mercenaries, and Guts, with a heart heavier than ever, thought the girl was dead.

But against all logic, there she was. Amid the smoldering remains, in the trembling arms of the elderly woman who could barely stand, her daughter was still alive. He couldn’t help but pull her tightly against his chest, stronger than he should have, letting out a sigh he hadn’t realized he was holding.

That night, as he adjusted the baby carrier once more and the little one curled up against his chest, he heard a voice in his head, as clear as if she were alive: his friend’s voice. “Don’t be an idiot, Guts. I entrusted her to you because I knew you’d do the right thing.” Even on the brink of death, she had trusted him to care for the child.

But what did she know? Guts was not a reliable person, at least, not in his own mind. He clenched his teeth, fighting the dark thoughts that always loomed over him. As much as he wanted to push her away, he knew she was now his responsibility, for better or worse.

From his pockets, he pulled out the few gold coins he had left, watching them fall into his palm with a mix of frustration and resignation. The metallic clink seemed like a mocking echo of his bad fortune.

A baby was bankrupting him, and the thought enraged him more than he cared to admit. He didn’t understand how something so small could consume more than an adult. Makeshift diapers, food that her tiny stomach could barely tolerate, and a roof over their heads at night, it was all a black hole where his resources disappeared alarmingly fast.

He huffed irritably, closing his fist around the coins as if he could crush them. Resigned, he counted the meager amount again, hoping, somehow, for more to appear. But no, it was barely enough for a run-down motel, the kind of place where rats probably slept in the beds while fleas claimed the floor.

“This is crap,” he muttered under his breath, casting a furtive glance at the child resting in the carrier, oblivious to his torment. The little one let out a soft sigh, snuggling closer to him, and Guts couldn’t help but think she looked absurdly peaceful for someone dragging him straight to disaster.

With a final heavy breath, he pocketed the coins and began walking toward the nearest town, his mind racing with desperate strategies to stretch what little he had left. He’d endured hardships before, but this… this was new. And deep down, he knew it wouldn’t be the last.

On his way, Guts couldn’t stop his gaze from straying to the few travelers sharing the path. He thought about stealing from an unsuspecting soul, just a few coins to eat, maybe enough to secure one more day without hunger. But almost immediately, he dismissed the idea with a grunt. A few coins wouldn’t be enough, not with what he had on his hands.

The child was a bottomless pit. Everything he fed her, no matter how hard he tried, ended up one of two ways: vomited or defecated in quantities that didn’t seem normal for such a tiny body. The mere thought of scavenging for cloth diapers made his stomach turn; cleaning them had been worse than any wound or stench of war.

“Damn it,” he muttered to himself, adjusting the baby carrier while glancing sideways at the child. Her small figure, wrapped in clothes ridiculously oversized for her, with her bare bottom exposed for lack of anything more decent, was a constant reminder of his failure.

He stopped for a moment in the shade of a solitary tree, thinking about the coins he had left and his dwindling options. The truth was, he didn’t know what made the journey worse: the misery of his company or the constant desperation of not knowing how to keep her alive. He sighed heavily, feeling the weight of his situation tighten around his chest like an invisible chain.

“Let’s go,” he muttered finally, resuming his steps, “before I regret not robbing that idiot earlier.” His voice, though gruff, lacked its usual venom. It was pure exhaustion. And the child, as always, said nothing.

He reached the motel with weary steps, the weight of the child and his circumstances pressing down on his shoulders as if he carried more than a colossal sword. Before entering, he paused and let his gaze scan the street. People were beginning to set up their stalls, small merchants bringing with them the bustle of dawn. A tumult of colors, smells, and sounds that, under other circumstances, he might have ignored entirely. But not now. Now, he was desperate.

“I don’t have a damn cent for food,” he thought, gritting his teeth as his eyes fixed on a makeshift stall displaying bottles of milk and stale bread. He knew what would come if he didn’t act soon. The child, with her infinite capacity to cry until she was utterly exhausted, would start again, and though that had worked for him on more than one occasion—waiting until exhaustion took her—it was starting to drive him crazy.

Instinctively, he adjusted the baby carrier once more, ensuring it wouldn’t slip as he plotted his next move. She needed to eat. Something liquid, preferably. The last time he tried something more solid—a piece of poorly cooked pork—the little one collapsed after a whole day of crying and fever. He’d learned the hard way that her stomach couldn’t handle much more than liquids, a luxury he couldn’t even dream of affording for himself.

Sighing deeply, he headed toward the motel, resolved that after securing a place to spend the night, he would have to find a way to get what she needed. Maybe a quick job. Or maybe just a well-executed theft. In this world, morality was as much a luxury as food, and he couldn’t afford either.

The motel’s interior was as bleak as he had expected: walls stained with dampness, a flickering oil lamp above the counter, and a moldy smell that seemed ingrained in the air. Guts approached with firm steps, letting his boots echo on the worn wooden floor. The man behind the counter, with a tired face and sunken eyes, barely looked up, examining him with indifference before focusing on the small figure wrapped in the baby carrier.

"A room for tonight." Guts said bluntly, laying the few coins he had left on the counter.

The clerk raised an eyebrow and pushed the coins back with a bony finger: "That’s not enough. We’re not a charity."

Guts’ patience, already thin, snapped instantly. He clenched his fists and let out a huff. "Can’t you see I’m carrying a damn baby?!", he barked, gesturing at the girl who, miraculously, was still asleep, her tiny body resting against his.

The man barely reacted, shrugging indifferently, "A baby doesn’t pay the bills. Neither do you."

Guts felt the anger boiling in his chest. His jaw tightened, and the muscles in his neck stood out like taut cords ready to snap. "I could smash his head with my bare hands," he thought, but he knew that would only make things worse. He took a deep breath, trying to suppress the urge to strangle the bastard. Instead, he leaned over the counter, his presence looming like a dark shadow.

"Listen, old man. I just need a place for the night. Are you really going to throw me out on the street with her? What kind of person does that?", he growled, his voice low but heavy with menace.

The clerk stared at him for a moment, as if considering his words, but finally shook his head. "I’m sorry, that’s not my problem."

Guts straightened, closing his eyes for a moment as he tried to keep himself in check. He snatched the coins from the counter with a sharp motion and turned away, leaving the place with heavy steps. As he crossed the threshold, he muttered under his breath, barely a whisper meant only for the girl and himself: "This damn world is rotten."

Guts left the inn, frustration weighing heavily on him and the girl still asleep against his chest. The dawn was beginning to tint the horizon with warm hues, but for him, every day was equally bleak. As he lifted his gaze, his eyes met the imposing silhouette of a castle not far from the village. Its high walls seemed like a challenge, and the flag waving at its peak was a silent invitation to anyone daring enough to defy it.

“I have no other choice,” he thought, clenching his jaw. The hunger gnawing at his insides was nothing compared to the burden of responsibility pressing down on him. That girl needed food, and if the world wouldn’t give him anything, he would take it by force.

With a quick movement, he adjusted the baby carrier, securing her tightly as his steps hastened toward the edge of the forest. His mind calculated the possibilities: a direct attack, grabbing whatever he could, and escaping before the alarms overwhelmed him. It was madness, but Guts had always lived on the razor’s edge of the impossible.

Reaching a dense thicket, he let out a weary sigh. Carefully, he lowered the girl, tucking her between the leaves, shielding her from view and the cold. Her small figure barely stirred, but her eyes, ever alert, fixed on him as if she could sense his absence before it happened.

"Stay here, you hear me?", he whispered, more to himself than to her. His voice trembled slightly, a mix of anxiety and determination. He adjusted his cloak, covering her a bit more while his hand lingered briefly over her curly hair. Then, gripping his sword tightly, he turned and ran toward the castle with quick, heavy steps.

With each stride, his mind repeated: “For food, for coins, for her.” There was no room for failure, not in a world that offered him nothing but struggle.

The air was still thick with tension after the intense battle. The mercenaries of the Band of the Hawk remained alert, the echoes of the fight still ringing in their ears. Griffith remained calm, his attention fixed on Guts' unconscious body, as though every feature of his face told a story only he could read. But then, a weak, high-pitched sound broke the stillness: the cry of a baby.

Casca was the first to react, lifting her head in a mix of surprise and confusion. The crying grew louder, insistent, like a call that could not be ignored. She looked at Griffith, who didn’t take his eyes off Guts, before finally taking the initiative to follow the sound.

She moved into the nearby bushes, pushing the leaves aside with impatience. And there, curled up in an improvised bed of leaves and cloth, she found the source of the commotion: a baby, her skin reddened from crying and her cheeks wet with tears. Casca stared at her, confused, before bending down and picking her up by the clothes, as if she were a sack of provisions.

She returned to the clearing where the others were, lifting the child to show them. "I found this," she said, a mix of disbelief and annoyance in her voice. "What do we do with it?"

Griffith’s eyes finally shifted away from Guts and settled on the small figure. He walked calmly toward Casca, stopping in front of her. For a moment, everything fell silent except for the intermittent sobs of the baby. Griffith raised a hand, signaling for Casca to hand her over.

“Give her to me,” he ordered, his voice quiet but firm.

Casca hesitated for a moment, but finally placed the child in his arms. Griffith held her with an unexpected gentleness, as if afraid of breaking something fragile and precious. The baby, still trembling, lifted her tear-filled eyes toward him. That was when everyone noticed: the baby’s features, especially her amber and greenish eyes that faded into a dark grayish blue, were almost an exact replica of Guts’.

Griffith smiled, a small gesture but full of meaning. "She’s identical to him," he murmured, almost to himself, before looking at the others. "She stays with us."

Casca frowned. "What? She’s just a baby, Griffith. We can barely handle what we already have."

"And yet, here she is," Griffith replied without taking his eyes off the child. "If Guts hid her, it’s because she matters. And if she matters to him, she matters to me."

The baby, exhausted from crying, began to calm down in Griffith’s arms. As he held her, something in his expression shifted, as if he saw in her a piece of a much larger puzzle. The Band of the Hawk watched in silence, a mix of bewilderment and curiosity, as Griffith turned toward Guts, still unconscious on the ground, and whispered:

"You and I… seems we’re more intertwined than I thought."

Griffith didn’t look away from the baby as his expression remained calm, almost fascinated. He gestured to the others, pointing to Guts’ body.

“Take him to the camp,” he ordered, his voice firm but calm.

A couple of members from the Band of the Hawk stepped forward to carry Guts, exchanging quick looks of confusion and curiosity. Meanwhile, Griffith turned on his heels, walking ahead with the baby in his arms. Every step was determined, as if he carried not just the weight of a child but something far more significant.

The little one, now calmer, looked up at him with big, curious eyes. Her gaze seemed to try to decipher the man holding her, a complete stranger compared to the one she used to be around. Griffith, sensing that attention, lowered his gaze to meet the baby’s golden and greenish eyes. A faint smile appeared on his face, but he said nothing.

The baby, unaware of the complexity of the moment, brought her tiny fist to her mouth and began sucking on it eagerly, making soft, incoherent babbling noises. The sounds filled the air with an innocence almost absurd in contrast to the violent scene that had just unfolded.

Griffith let out a soft laugh, barely audible to those walking behind him. "Incredible," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

Casca, walking not too far behind, frowned as she watched the scene. "Griffith, she’s just a baby. Do you really think it’s worth carrying her around?"

Griffith didn’t stop or look back. "A baby who could change everything. Don’t underestimate the weight of fate, Casca. Sometimes the smallest pieces have the biggest impact."

The baby, oblivious to Griffith’s words, babbled something more, this time accompanied by a slight movement of her head, as if agreeing without understanding. Griffith looked at the little one again, his smile widening just a bit.

"Right?" he said softly, as if expecting her to answer.

And so they continued, with Griffith leading the way to the camp, the baby in his arms and a new layer of mystery and meaning enveloping the Band of the Hawk.

Griffith paused for a moment, stepping slightly away from the group that followed at a respectful distance. He looked at the baby in his arms closely, as if reading the secrets her infant eyes couldn’t yet hide.

With unsettling calm, he gently stroked her small tear-streaked cheek, the tears having ceased. His words came out soft, almost like a whisper full of intention:

"You, little one…" He paused, watching as the baby stared at him intently, unaware of the weight of his words. "You’re the one who will keep Guts with me."

His voice dropped even further, becoming intimate, almost reverent. "Or…" he paused briefly, tilting his head slightly, his enigmatic smile painting his face. "Do you prefer to rule the world by my side?"

The girl, unable to comprehend the dilemma that Griffith seemed to pose, let out a small babble, innocently chewing on her own fist. Griffith let out a soft laugh at the irony of the scene, his gaze becoming colder, more calculating.

"Fate is curious, don't you think?" he said softly, almost as if speaking to himself, as he resumed his walk.

The little one didn’t respond beyond another babble, but Griffith seemed content with the silence, as if he had heard everything he needed to know.

The first two days with the girl in the camp were total chaos. She went from crying uncontrollably, her small face red and wet with tears, to laughing hysterically after stuffing herself with food. It was such a drastic contrast that it left the members of the Band of the Hawk bewildered. Some speculated that she was sick, while others simply assumed she was a peculiar creature, a reflection of the strange times they were living in.

Casca had insisted they get rid of the girl, saying she was nothing but a nuisance, but Griffith wouldn’t allow it. He always had a purpose, a plan, even for something as seemingly insignificant as a baby.

Griffith’s conclusion came after observing her closely during those days. Her endless crying wasn’t a whim or sickness; it was clear that the girl missed the man lying unconscious in one of the tents, the warrior who had been defeated by him. This theory was confirmed one night when the baby's crying seemed unmanageable, even exhausting for those accustomed to the chaos of battles.

Griffith, with an unusual patience, took her to the tent where Guts was lying, still recovering from his defeat. Without much thought, he placed the baby on Guts's chest. For a moment, the silence stretched through the tent, like an echo of something sacred.

The baby stopped crying almost immediately. Her small body settled naturally, as if that were the only place she belonged. Her breathing began to calm, her cry turning into a soft whisper as her eyes slowly closed.

Griffith watched the scene with a mixture of fascination and something darker, something that could barely be described as envy or a desire for control. "Food is not enough to buy your loyalty," he thought, his eyes fixed on the baby asleep on Guts's chest.

There was something in that connection, in that instinctive dependency, that Griffith couldn’t ignore. It was both a weakness and a strength at the same time, and like everything else, it was something he could use. Because Griffith always used everything.

"You're a good girl, Rhea," Griffith whispered, letting his words fall like a secret meant only for the little one. His hand slid gently through the dark curls adorning the baby's head.

For a moment, his face softened, almost reflecting something that could be confused with tenderness, but his eyes held that calculating gleam that never quite disappeared.

"But Guts will have to give me something in return for feeding and taking care of you," he murmured, his tone barely audible, a slight smile on his lips that wasn’t a kind gesture, but rather a declaration of dominance.

The gleam in his eyes spoke of a clear purpose: the baby would be his lever of control over the warrior, one that he could never predict or reject entirely. Guts might think the girl belonged to him, but Griffith wasn’t going to let anything interfere with his plans.

Guts woke with a sharp pain throughout his body, as if his flesh had been crushed and then forcibly put back together. His vision took a moment to focus, but his mind didn’t allow him to rest. The first image that assaulted his thoughts was the tiny body of the girl, curled up among the bushes where he had left her before attacking the castle.

A cold shiver ran down his spine at the thought of how much time had passed. His throat tightened as he tried to remember, but everything was a blur. He only knew that he had lost the fight, and now the unknown was an abyss consuming him.

"How long have I been unconscious? A day? Two? Damn it, a baby can't survive that long without food or care…"

With a grunt of effort, he staggered to his feet, ignoring the burn of his wounds. He left the tent without looking back, his only concern being the possibility that the little one had succumbed to hunger, the cold, or the beasts of the forest. Every step toward the outside was loaded with tension. His hands shook, not from fatigue, but from the weight of the fear crushing him.

When he emerged into the open air, his gaze darted frantically around, searching for any sign, any indication that could confirm or deny his worst fear. Doubt was killing him, every second was an eternity tearing him apart from within.

"Damn it… Why did I let this happen? I knew I couldn’t leave her there… What kind of idiot trusts a baby to survive alone?"

He was about to rush toward the bushes where he had left her when a voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Are you looking for something?"

He spun around sharply, and there was Casca, watching him with an expression that fluctuated between exhaustion and curiosity. In her arms, wrapped in a blanket that wasn’t hers, was the girl. Her face was red and wet, as if she had been crying recently, but alive. Her tiny eyes looked at him for a moment before turning to Casca, seeking the security she had temporarily found in her.

Relief hit Guts with the force of a hammer, but he couldn’t express it. His face remained impassive, though his body relaxed, as if a taut rope had finally given way.

"I found her in some bushes, crying like a demon," Casca continued, stepping closer with measured steps. "She’s yours, right?"

Guts didn’t respond at first, his gaze fixed on the girl. Guilt and relief fought for dominance in his chest as he reached out to take her. Casca handed her over with some reluctance, as if doubting his ability to care for something so fragile.

"Yes, she’s mine," he finally grunted, his words barely a whisper as he cradled her against his chest. The girl looked at him with tearful eyes, babbling something incomprehensible, as if recognizing him and forgiving him at the same time.

In that moment, Guts understood that, no matter how much he denied it, this little creature had bound him to a fate from which he couldn’t easily escape.

"I was going to take her to your tent, she only quiets down if she sleeps next to you," said Casca, crossing her arms with a mixture of weariness and annoyance on her face.

Guts looked up at her, not letting go of the girl who now clung to his shirt with her tiny hands. Guilt still hit him hard, but he wasn’t going to let Casca see him vulnerable.

"Oh, really? And how the hell do you know that?" he growled, though his tone lacked its usual force. The baby let out a small sound, a babble between a cry and a sigh, and Guts instinctively adjusted his grip to make her more comfortable.

Casca rolled her eyes. "We tried everything. Griffith even fed her with his own hands, but it was useless. She only stops crying when she's with you, like there's some kind of connection between you two. Maybe she recognizes you as the idiot who left her abandoned in a bush."

Guts gritted his teeth but didn't respond immediately. He knew Casca was right, but the words still stung—not because they were cruel, but because they were the truth.

"I guess I'll have to take care of her," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the little one, now sucking her own fist as she closed her eyes, exhausted.

Casca watched him silently for a moment, and when she spoke again, her tone was less harsh.

"Griffith called her Rhea." She said she needed a name if she was going to stay with us.

Guts raised an eyebrow, surprised by the choice of name and even more by the implied decision. "Stay with you?"

Casca nodded.

"Griffith decided we’d take care of her, but it seems like that means you’ll be part of this too, whether you like it or not." Her gaze hardened slightly, but there was a glimpse of something else, maybe compassion, in her eyes. "I hope you can handle it, because this baby has no one else."

Without waiting for a response, Casca turned and began walking back to the camp. Guts stood there, holding little Rhea, as the weight of her words and his own responsibility settled on him like a stone.

"Rhea, huh?" he whispered, looking at her as she slept deeply, unaware of the chaos surrounding their lives.

"An unusual name for an unusual girl," Guts murmured, a bitter smile barely grazing his lips. He watched the peaceful face of the baby, so different from the chaos she had brought into his life.

Little Rhea sighed in her sleep, her tiny hands still gripping the fabric of his shirt as if, even in unconsciousness, she refused to let go. Guts sighed and dropped heavily onto a nearby log, the baby still in his arms.

"Don't get too attached to me, okay?" he said softly, more to himself than to her. "I'm not exactly the type of person who should be taking care of someone like you."

The weight of the past few hours, the days that had led him here, and the decisions that had brought him to this point hit him full force. Rhea babbled something incoherent in her sleep, as if answering his words. Guts scratched the back of his neck and turned his gaze to the dark sky.

"I guess that doesn't matter anymore, does it?" he added, his tone resigned but with a faint touch of irony. "Looks like we're stuck with each other."

With a final sigh, Guts stood up, adjusted the baby against his chest, and began walking back to the camp. For the first time in a long while, he didn't feel completely alone, though he wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad one.

The sun was beginning to set, bathing the fields in an orange light that only highlighted the darkness in the heart of Guts. His sword by his side, the mercenary band that accompanied him walked in silence as he adjusted the baby carrier hanging over his chest. Four months had passed, and Guts was no longer the same. The little girl, now eight months old, started to move more vigorously against his chest, her tiny hands gripping the fabric of her carrier. Despite the growing unease he felt for her, Guts couldn’t afford to stop. The band still needed his services, and he could see no other way out.

Despite the discomfort of carrying a child in the middle of a fight, his mind couldn’t stop pondering what had happened to him. What if someone took advantage of the situation? What if, in the heat of the battle, someone tried to steal what little he had left? If anything happened to Rhea, Guts would never forgive himself. Gambino hadn’t defended him when he was young; he had allowed him to be abused for three coins. No one had protected him, and he feared his daughter would meet the same fate.

Still, as he walked, his mind kept wandering. What am I doing with her here? The question circled his mind over and over, but he couldn’t find an answer. He couldn’t leave her, not again. He remembered what happened with Gambino, with the other people who had abandoned him in his life... Guts trusted no one, especially not in a world full of mercenaries.

If something happens to this girl, it’ll be my fault, he thought, gritting his teeth. The violence, the screams, the misery. The entire camp was a cauldron of chaos, and he knew it better than anyone. But he didn’t know where else to take her. I can’t run, I can’t leave her alone. Sometimes he wished he had never found her, but just the thought of separating from her made him feel like he was committing the worst sin of his life.

"It’s just a fight," he murmured to himself, gripping the hilt of his sword. "Just one more fight. No one will touch the girl."

Somehow, in his chest, Rhea’s small body kept him grounded to the earth, even as he struggled to survive. If I leave her, it could happen to her like it happened to me... he told himself, knowing that if given the chance, the cruel world might devour her like it had so many others he had known in his life.

"If your mother saw this..." he murmured, the weight of his own guilt pressing against his chest. "No, if she were here, you wouldn’t be..."

Despite his grim thoughts, the baby on his chest began moving again. A soft babble and a faint cry interrupted his thoughts. Guts looked around, seeing the destruction the mercenaries were causing in their wake, while the baby began to babble and shake her hands.

"Don’t cry... not here..." he whispered softly as he tried to soothe her with a murmur.

Fear grew inside him as he watched her, the little one who depended on him, a fragile baby in the middle of this storm. Guts’ hands, which had killed and destroyed so many times, now trembled as they held her. What would he do if something happened to her? But the answer was clear. He couldn’t leave her. He couldn’t live with himself if something happened to Rhea while he didn’t do everything in his power to protect her.

And then, as he looked at the fallen bodies and blood surrounding the place, Guts realized. What am I doing? The question pierced his mind with brutal force. He had brought an innocent child into a slaughterhouse. The fabric that held her against his body, her only refuge, was now stained with blood. Blood that I had shed myself.

The little one, uncomfortable in the situation she had been placed in, cried against his chest, oblivious to the chaos unfolding around her. Each of the baby’s breaths seemed softer than the last, as if her tiny body sought comfort in the very place where he had been trained not to feel anything. But Guts felt everything: the weight of guilt, fear, the inability to give her a different future.

What can I do? The question repeated itself over and over in his mind. He knew there was no turning back. He had chosen this path, this fate for her, a fate he hadn’t even chosen for himself. He saw her as a victim of a world that gave no second chances. And yet, there she was, trusting him as her only protector, her only lifeline.

Guts looked at the blood staining the fabric, and for a moment, he wished he were the one to fall, that he were the one who was dead instead of so many others. But the girl in his arms kept breathing, clinging to life. What awaited her? What future could he offer in this hell that had been his life?

He knew. He couldn’t give her what she needed, he couldn’t keep her safe from a world like his. But he couldn’t leave her. He couldn’t leave her alone, like they had left him.

Griffith shouted upon seeing him with Rhea, his face a mask of fury. "What the hell do you think you’re doing?!"

Before Guts could react, Griffith snatched the baby from his arms with a speed that left him stunned. No! Rage began to boil inside him. Without thinking, his hand closed around the hilt of his sword, the steel brushing his palm as hate, like a searing fire, filled his chest.

"Let her go, you bastard!" Guts roared, fury blinding his judgment as he raised his sword, pointing it directly at Griffith.

Griffith didn’t flinch, his gaze cold and calculating. "Do you really think you have the right to protect her, Guts? After everything you’ve done?"

Guts took a step forward, his sword raised, his body tense, ready to unleash all his fury. The baby in Griffith’s arms was now crying, not understanding why her protector had been taken from her, but that only fueled Guts’ rage. "Don’t touch her!"

Guts, with eyes full of fury, took another step toward Griffith, not thinking of the consequences. The echo of his shout reverberated in the air. "Give her back, Griffith!"

Griffith, calmly, turned his face toward him, his gaze annoyed. "With what face do you come asking for her back, Guts? With what face, after dragging her to a battlefield, to a slaughterhouse? Is that what you give to an innocent child?"

Guts gritted his teeth, Griffith’s words cutting deep, but the rage was stronger. No! His daughter, his daughter, didn’t deserve to be part of this hell. Yet, Griffith’s words struck him with the force of a punch.

"If the girl is here, it’s because of your damn whim, Guts," Griffith continued, his tone severe. "She has nothing to do with the war you’ve decided to fight. You put her on this path, not me."

"I’m asking you to give her back!" Guts shouted, his voice filled with desperation. "Don’t put her in the middle of this!"

Griffith, unperturbed, gave him a blank look, as if Guts were nothing more than an inconvenience. "If you want her to survive this, you’ll have to be the first to show you can protect her. But if you keep dragging her along your path of blood, I can’t promise you anything."

The baby, in his arms, cried softly, unaware of the battle being fought between the two men. Guts could see the fear in her eyes, the fear he had caused by involving her in this world she didn’t understand.

"What the hell do you know about protecting someone?! You can’t even save yourself!" Guts roared, but instantly he realized the words made no sense. It was an uncomfortable truth, but the reality he had always avoided hit him hard. He was broken himself, and now he had dragged a child into the same darkness.

Griffith, calmly, watched Guts, who seemed on the brink of explosion. Finally, he lifted his gaze, and in his cold, soft tone, said, "You’re the one who doesn’t know how to protect yourself, and as a result, you don’t know how to protect her."

Griffith’s words hit Guts like a hammer. Each word dripped with a bitter truth Guts didn’t want to face, but he couldn’t ignore. How could he protect her if he couldn’t even save himself?

The sound of his breathing grew heavier, as if each exhale was a titanic effort. Guts closed his eyes for a moment, and in his mind, the image of the little girl, innocent and helpless, merged with the darkness that always surrounded him. He had never been a man capable of protecting anyone else, he had always lived only for himself.

"You know it, don’t you?" Griffith continued, his tone unyielding. "Your survival instinct is all you have. And that’s not enough to care for a child. When you calm down, you’ll have your daughter."

Guts, who had witnessed so many deaths and losses, so many sacrifices that had left him scarred, now felt the weight of Rhea’s life on his shoulders. The rage that had pushed him into so many battles seemed to dissipate for a moment, leaving him face to face with a truth he had never wanted to accept.

How could he protect her? How could he give her anything other than emptiness?

[demensrage]

l for lustful adventure ⚊ •. with shoyo hinata

summary: a fun anniversary adventure unleashes the most primitive desires between you. a lustful adventure that you are not willing to deny, there will be put into scenes what was never said between you.

cw: established relationship, dom! hinata, sub! reader, spanking, fingering, oral (m. receiving), overstimulation, unprotected, rough sex, creampie, thight riding, blindfold play.

word count: 9k 💀

© demensrage 2024. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

You knew how beautiful Brazil was from the constant photos your husband had sent you, but seeing it with your own eyes is a delight that the images can’t capture. Everything looks so vibrant: the sky with an incomparable blue, the lush green plants lining the streets, and the warm sun that caresses your skin with an intensity unknown in Japan. The hustle and bustle of people, the aroma of fresh fruits and coffee floating in the air, and the contagious laughter of street vendors remind you that you’ve crossed the world to a culture where life seems to pulse in every corner.

Now you understand why Hinata had fallen in love with this place, why he spoke about it with so much emotion, why he wanted you to enjoy it too. And now you were there beside him, two weeks into your arrival, and you simply couldn’t get enough of the landscape. A few days weren’t enough to enjoy the wonders of this beautiful country, which is why it was easy to convince him to spend more time there. Your third wedding anniversary was fast approaching, and that was always a good excuse.

The first two weeks were spent enjoying São Paulo, immersing yourselves in its vibrant urban life, exploring the street art in Vila Madalena, the unmatched flavors of the Municipal Market, and the hustle and bustle of downtown. Now, you were ready for the next adventure: Rio de Janeiro. What you longed for most was to see the Christ the Redeemer statue, the imposing guardian of the city that, even in photos, seemed to convey a deep peace. You wanted to see for yourself if its grandeur was as real as it seemed.

You both decided that driving would be a great idea. This way, you could enjoy every stop for food or simply pause to admire the view. The winding road offered captivating landscapes; green mountains contrasting with the blue sky and the emerald sea that seemed to stretch endlessly. You carried your camera, ready to capture every moment and every special corner. From the small towns along the way, each with its own charm, to the street vendors offering sweets and guaraná sodas.

The trip itself was an adventure. The landscapes changed with each stretch of road, and every stop had its unique magic. Sometimes, you both would get out of the car just to feel the warm breeze or enjoy a fresh fruit bought from a roadside vendor. There was something about that road trip that made each kilometer feel like a small victory, a conquest of memories and shared experiences.

You remembered how hard it had been to stay together despite the distance. Hinata was in Brazil for his training, focused on reaching his dreams as a professional player, while you stayed in Japan, clinging to your studies, so close to finishing university that quitting wasn’t an option. The nights were especially tough; the time difference and the absence of his voice made the emptiness feel deeper.

However, you found a way to cope. Every morning, you woke up to a message from him, telling you how he woke up in Brazil, talking about his training, how the weather and the language were a constant challenge, but also his excitement about being so close to fulfilling his dreams. Sometimes, the messages came with spontaneous photos: one of him with his teammates, another of a typical Brazilian dish he was trying for the first time, or one of the urban landscape surrounding him.

For your part, you sent him pictures of the corners of the university, the notes you hated so much, and the books that seemed endless. These small routines became your refuge, reminding both of you that, although you were separated by thousands of kilometers, your lives were still shared in those little details.

All that effort, every sacrifice, and every day of waiting had been worth it. In the last game of the season, when everything was set for him to come home with you, Hinata decided to dedicate the final shot to you, sealing the victory in your name. The emotion overwhelmed you; despite the struggles to arrive on time, the flight delays, and the anxiety of a lost suitcase, you had made it just in time. The language barrier complicated everything, but nothing mattered at that moment. From the stands, your eyes met his, and in that instant, you knew he had seen you. With that unmistakable spark in his gaze, he made the shot that would define the game… and won it for you.

The stadium erupted in cheers, but for him, it wasn't enough; no, Hinata always had to celebrate in grand style. So, with his heart pounding a thousand beats per minute and emotions running high, he ran toward you in the stands, weaving through his teammates and the crowd until he reached you. He took your hand without hesitation, and, amidst applause and astonished gasps, he knelt down. "Will you marry me?" he asked, his eyes shining and a smile that disarmed you. The proposal echoed in the stadium, and in that moment, the whole world seemed to stop. You said yes, between laughter and tears, and you were the happiest woman in that crowded place because he, your Hinata, had made that victory a double one: he had won the game and also your heart forever.

Now, as you enjoyed this trip, you felt that every moment by his side was a new opportunity to create lasting memories, moments that, over the years, would fill your life with stories to tell. You were ready to enjoy his company in every stage of life, even when youth faded and the years brought new adventures.

As Hinata helped you take the bags out of the car, the golden light of the sunset wrapped everything around you, and although the city's sound was constant, you paused for a moment to absorb the view of the hotel. The horizon stretched out before you, with the sea reflecting the last rays of the sun and the mountains in the distance, like a perfect painting. You felt fortunate because this trip, like so many others to come, wasn’t just about the places you’d visit, but about what you shared on the journey.

Hinata approached you, noticing you had become still, and with a tender smile, he took your hand. "Do you like the view?" he asked, with the calmness that only he could convey. "Yes," you answered, not taking your eyes off the scene. "It's perfect. Will you take me to that bar you told me about?"

Hinata smiled at your question, his gaze lit by the sunset. "Of course, it's a special place," he said, interlacing his fingers with yours as he began walking toward the hotel. "It's close to the beach, with an incredible view, and the live music is always so good it makes you forget everything else."

The idea of sharing that place with him, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere while the sun slowly faded behind the mountains, filled you with excitement. You knew it wasn’t just the bar that made it special, but everything it represented: a little corner of the world where you both would feel even more connected, sharing laughter, conversations, and dreams.

As you walked toward the hotel entrance, you thought about how lucky you were to be there, at that moment. It didn’t matter how many places you explored; the most important thing was always being together, creating memories that would be part of your shared story.

Hearing Hinata speak Portuguese while asking for the hotel keys was a new pleasure you had just discovered. His voice, already soft and warm in Japanese, became even deeper and more resonant when he spoke this new language, as if each syllable were imbued with a warmth only he could convey.

The way his accent added a different twist to his tone made you smile unconsciously, a feeling of comfort and admiration that grew with every sentence. It was as if, by speaking Portuguese, his essence became even more charming, more connected to the land that had captured his heart at that point in his life.

You stayed there, watching him as he smiled while receiving the keys and offered you a knowing glance. "We'll be in the room soon. Would you like to rest or explore a bit more?" he asked, unaware that, by doing so, he had once again captivated you with that mix of tenderness and confidence only he could convey.

"Let’s go to that bar, I’m eager to check it out," you replied enthusiastically, taking his arm naturally as you walked together toward the elevator. The contact was warm, and the connection between you both felt as solid as ever.

"I rested a lot on the road trip," you added with a soft smile. "Unless you want to rest, of course." You turned to look at him, noticing how his eyes sparkled with that unmistakable energy that always characterized him.

Hinata laughed softly, shaking his head. "Rest? With so much to explore? Impossible," he replied, his voice tinged with excitement. "Let’s go to the bar, but promise me you'll let yourself be amazed by the night view from the beach afterward. It’s something you have to see."

"I promise," you said without hesitation, feeling more and more excited about what the night would bring. The elevator arrived, and you both got in, enjoying those small moments together that made everything worth it.

The bar's atmosphere was filled with a mix of laughter, soft music, and the melting pot of languages flowing among the groups of tourists and locals. The dim lights illuminated the tables, but it was the dance floor that truly caught everyone's attention. People moved to the rhythm of samba and other Brazilian genres with a natural sensuality that seemed to flow from every movement, as if the music had completely taken over their bodies. The bright colors of the dancers' outfits and the sparkle of glasses on the tables added a warm, almost magical ambiance that enveloped you effortlessly.

You felt comfortable, relaxed, with a glass of piña colada with vodka in your hand, the ice still crunching with the first sip. The sweet, fruity flavor of the cocktail contrasted perfectly with the stronger kick of the vodka, giving you a small push of courage. You were starting to feel the effects of the alcohol—a slight euphoria that made everything around you feel more vibrant, more intimate.

Hinata, seated beside you, smiled as he noticed your gaze fixed on the dance floor. There was something in the way you watched the couples, how they surrendered themselves to the music, that made him realize it intrigued you more than you had let on.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked, not expecting much more than a nod of acceptance. But he noticed something in your expression—a mix of curiosity and a desire to explore something new, something he hadn’t seen in you before.

You didn’t need more words. Without hesitation, you stood up, taking his hand and leading him toward the floor. “Yes,” you said, a mischievous smile surprising even yourself. “I want to try it. I want to see how they do it.”

The music grew louder as you began moving to the rhythm like the Brazilians. It wasn’t just the dancing that drew you in but the way every movement seemed to be a pure expression of sensuality and confidence. You, a little uncertain at first, grew increasingly comfortable, mimicking the moves with Hinata by your side, both of you laughing.

“I think I’m struggling a bit,” you said, glancing at your husband with a playful grin. “But... would you like to teach me how to do it right?”

Hinata looked at you with a mix of admiration and amusement in his eyes. He understood what that question might imply but didn’t want to rush to conclusions. His face lit up with a warm smile, the one he always wore when he saw you open to new experiences. “Of course,” he replied, stepping closer and placing his hands on your waist, guiding your body with his to the rhythm of the music.

Somehow, the dance, the alcohol, and the atmosphere charged with sensuality began opening doors you hadn’t considered before. As you moved more freely, you realized how much you longed to be closer to him—not just physically, but in a deeper, more intimate way.

What started as a fun dancing game quickly transformed into something more profound, more personal. His hands, firm yet gentle, slowly slid down to your hips, pulling you toward him with subtle but undeniable force. The music shifted, becoming slower, more sensual, as if it mirrored the connection forming between you two. The soft, rhythmic beats intertwined with the rapid thudding of your own heart, creating a unique melody just for the two of you.

Hinata guided you expertly, making your body move in slow, synchronized circles against his. Every sway of your hips felt like a silent conversation, a whisper shared between the dance and the growing desire. The brush of your bodies generated a palpable electricity, a heat that went beyond the room's temperature. You weren’t sure if it was the closeness of his body, the warmth of the atmosphere, or perhaps the combination of both, but the fire began to flood every corner of your being.

Your eyes closed with a soft sigh, surrendering completely. It didn’t matter if the music was slow or if others were moving around you; at that moment, everything else faded away. There was only the two of you, the rhythm of the music, the whisper of his breathing, and the touch of your bodies, as if the world around you dissolved, leaving you in a perfect, desire-filled bubble.

You felt more alive than ever, as though the simple sensation of his closeness was a reminder of how much you had been holding back, how much you wanted to explore. And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel insecure or shy. Passion, desire—everything you had kept buried—was now surfacing in a way you hadn’t known existed, but you relished it with every fiber of your being.

One of Hinata’s hands slid gently from your hips to your jaw, holding it with a firm yet tender grip that made your eyes flutter open slowly. His thumb brushed your skin with an almost reverent delicacy, tilting your face to one side as he leaned in. There was no rush in his movements, only a quiet determination that left you breathless.

When his lips finally met yours, it was as though everything else disappeared entirely. The bar, the music, the people around you… none of it mattered. The kiss was slow, deep, and full of emotions that seemed to have built up over days. You had forgotten how much you missed this—this intimate connection with him. During the trip, both of you had focused so much on landscapes, laughter, and new experiences that, unintentionally, these moments of closeness had been set aside.

The kiss became a reminder of everything you shared, a silent language saying more than words ever could. You felt the warmth of his breath, the firmness of his hands, and that unmistakable love that had always defined your relationship. His other hand remained on your hip, keeping you close, as if afraid you might pull away.

When you finally separated, his eyes searched yours, and in that gaze, you found a blend of love, desire, and something more—something you couldn’t quite define but that ignited the spark within you even further. “I missed this,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and filled with emotion. “So much.”

You smiled softly, feeling your heart pound. “Me too, Hinata,” you whispered, your eyes never leaving his, loving the way he seemed to adore you even in the gentle touch of his gaze. “I think we forgot how important this is, how important you are to me.”

His fingers barely grazed your back as he held you close, a gesture that, at any other time, might have gone unnoticed, but now, with the warmth of his touch, sent a shiver down your spine. It was so subtle yet laden with meaning that your thoughts began to drift, taking you back to a recent conversation with your friends.

It had been a quiet afternoon, filled with laughter and the clinking of glasses. They had started with light topics—travel, restaurants, daily routines—but, as always happened with that group, the conversation had turned more personal, more intimate.

Your friends, amid sighs and nervous giggles, began sharing details about their own dynamics with their partners. “Have you ever tried something… different?” one of them asked with a mischievous smile as she swirled her wine glass. “Sometimes, a little roughness can spark things you didn’t even know you wanted.”

Another nodded, bursting into laughter as she recounted how her partner had surprised her one night with a firmer grip, a whispered command in her ear. The way they spoke, with a mix of playfulness and satisfaction, had left you intrigued. Though you tried to stay on the sidelines, their eyes turned to you, expectant.

“And you?” they asked almost in unison, smiling conspiratorially.

You laughed, a bit nervously, as your cheeks turned red. “We’re… well, we’ve always been more… traditional, I guess,” you admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed, though your friends didn’t judge you in the slightest. “We’ve never really talked about anything like that.”

"Well, you should," one of them chimed in enthusiastically. "You have no idea how liberating it can be. It's not about stopping enjoying what you already have; it's about exploring more, discovering new ways to connect together."

Those words had stuck with you ever since, echoing louder and louder in your mind. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy your intimate life with Hinata; on the contrary, you loved him and felt that you shared something special. But the idea of exploring, of finding a different side of the two of you, had left you wondering. What if there was more to discover, something you both could enjoy together if only you dared to bring it up?

Back in the present, the touch of his hand running down your back pulled you from your thoughts. His eyes met yours, soft and warm, but there was something more in his gaze, a spark that had perhaps always been there but that you were now noticing more clearly. Could you talk about it? Should you risk breaking the silence on this subject?

What if this wasn’t the right moment? Doubt anchored itself in your mind, immobilizing you. Talking about your sex life with Hinata, though it shouldn’t be complicated, felt like opening a door you weren’t sure how to close afterward. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him—on the contrary, if there was anyone you could be vulnerable with, it was him. But the fear of making him uncomfortable or, worse, of him misunderstanding what you meant, filled you with uncertainty.

When is the right time to talk about something like this? As you watched him with that smile that always seemed to brighten any room, you wondered if a "perfect moment" even existed. Would it be on a quiet night when you were both relaxed at home? Or maybe in a spontaneous moment, like now, with the background music and the soft lights of the bar creating an ambiance straight out of a romantic movie?

You bit your lip, trying to untangle your thoughts. The way Hinata held you, how his eyes seemed to read yours, gave you a glimmer of confidence. But you still didn’t know how to start, how to put into words something so intimate that it could change dynamics you had both spent years building.

"Are you okay?" His voice came softly, pulling you back to the present. His brow furrowed slightly, worried, as if he had noticed something different about you.

"Yeah, of course," you lied with a smile, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced.

Hinata knew you too well, and the worst part was that he would probably give you all the time in the world to say whatever was on your mind. The problem was that you didn’t even know how to start. Maybe it wasn’t the right time, but you also knew that if you kept waiting for that perfect moment, you might stay silent forever.

Perhaps, just perhaps, it wasn’t about finding the moment but creating it.

"Don’t be reckless," you scolded yourself silently, as if those words could keep the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind at bay. You couldn’t afford to ruin the atmosphere—not now, not when everything seemed to flow so naturally.

But at the same time, there was something you couldn’t ignore: the feeling that this moment might be exactly what you needed to take the first step. The brush of his hands on your hips, the warmth radiating from his body, the way his eyes sparkled with a mix of playfulness and desire—it all seemed to conspire to push you to speak.

"What’s wrong?" Hinata broke the silence, leaning in a little closer to ensure his voice wasn’t lost in the music and laughter of the bar. His fingers traced small circles on your waist, a gesture so casual yet charged with intimacy.

"It’s just... nothing, it’s nothing," you replied hastily, trying to divert his attention with a smile that probably wasn’t as convincing as you’d hoped.

He raised an eyebrow, as if he didn’t believe your response for a second. "If it were nothing, you wouldn’t be so distracted," he pointed out gently, his tone filled with that infinite patience that always disarmed you.

You sighed, looking away toward the cocktail in your hand. "I don’t want to ruin the moment," you admitted in a low voice, more to yourself than to him.

"Then don’t ruin it," he replied with a mischievous smile, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "Just enjoy, and when you’re ready to talk, I’m here."

His words, simple but full of meaning, made something inside you relax. You didn’t have to rush or find the perfect words immediately. This moment wasn’t the end of anything—it was the beginning of everything.

You gave yourself a mental slap, forcing yourself to gather the necessary courage. You bit your lip hard, trying to silence the avalanche of doubts that continued to assault you. Instead of speaking, you turned with determination, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting your bodies move in unison to the music.

Hinata looked at you with a mix of surprise and tenderness but said nothing. He simply leaned a little closer to you, his lips brushing against your temple while his hands found a steady rhythm on your waist.

The warmth of his closeness and the electricity of the moment made you feel safe—for now. You reminded yourself that there was no need to rush. There was time. This journey, after all, was just for the two of you.

"When we get to the hotel, I’ll do it," you silently promised yourself, closing your eyes as you let the rhythm of the music envelop you. You had to do it—not because of your friends’ advice but for yourself. You wanted to open that door with him, to explore something more, something new, something only the two of you could discover together.

For now, you allowed yourself to enjoy this moment, feeling safe in his arms, knowing that when the time came, he’d be ready to listen.

You sat on the bed with a sigh of relief, your hands reaching for the heels you had worn all day. You took them off urgently, as if your ankles were begging for a break after hours of endurance.

Hinata closed the door behind him, leaving the key on the nightstand as he watched you with a slight smile. "Too much dancing for one night?" he teased, walking over to sit beside you on the bed.

"Too much dancing for these shoes," you replied with a soft laugh, massaging your feet with your hands. "But it was worth it."

"It's always worth it when I see you enjoying yourself like that," he said, leaning in to gently take one of your feet, helping with the massage. His firm fingers found the exact spots, drawing a sigh of relief from you.

The gesture made your heart skip a beat. You looked at him, his eyes focused on his task, his expression so calm and attentive. It was the perfect moment, yet you still felt a lump in your throat.

"Thank you," you murmured finally, more for the massage than anything else, though deep down, you knew there was more weight behind that word.

Hinata looked up at you, noticing something in your tone. "Is something wrong?" he asked softly, setting your foot aside and turning to face you fully.

You took a deep breath, feeling how the moment you'd been putting off all day had finally caught up to you.

The question slipped from your lips before you could consider if it was the right way to approach it—a sudden impulse overtaking you. But with Hinata, there was never a "right" way to do things; everything was always spontaneous, natural, as if the world around you disappeared in the space where only the two of you existed.

"Have you ever thought about... more?" The phrase hung in the air between you, a question laden with as much uncertainty as curiosity.

Hinata stayed silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on yours as he read your expression. It wasn’t the reaction you had expected, but it didn’t surprise you either. He had always been an open book, yet now, something in his gaze seemed deeper, more attentive.

"More of what?" he asked, his voice gentle, as if trying to understand exactly what you meant.

The vulnerability lingered in every word that left your lips, but you didn’t stop. You had started speaking without filters, and there was no turning back now. You looked at Hinata with determination, though the knot in your stomach remained.

"More about us, you know... sexually."

The words, as direct as they were, seemed to hang in the air for a moment, the weight of them filling the room. The atmosphere shifted immediately, the tension in the air palpable. But it wasn’t discomfort—not for him, at least.

Hinata looked at you attentively, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. His expression was a mix of surprise and curiosity, but also something else you couldn’t quite identify.

"More about us?" he repeated, his tone calm, as if he were processing what you had said. "You mean exploring something different? Something... more."

You nodded, a bit embarrassed but unwilling to back down. "Yes, that. I’ve been thinking a lot about it. I don’t know, sometimes I feel like there’s something beyond what we’ve tried, something we could explore together if... if you’re interested too."

Hinata stayed silent for a moment, as if deeply reflecting. Then, with a compassionate smile, he gently took your hands and intertwined them with his.

"My love," he said, his tone so warm it made you feel like you could trust him completely, "I’ve always wanted you to feel comfortable and happy. And I never want you to feel like we can’t talk about anything. If this is what you want, then of course, we’ll do it together, at your pace."

The warmth of his words gave you the reassurance you needed. There was no judgment, only an open willingness to explore what you desired—what both of you desired.

"Although... I never brought it up because I was afraid," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "Afraid of making you feel insecure. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t enjoying sex with you."

His words struck you right in the heart, his vulnerability opening up to you in a way you hadn’t anticipated. The gesture—his hand scratching the back of his neck, so human, so sincere—made you realize how much he had worried about you, even in moments when he hadn’t said a word.

"I didn’t want you to think I don’t enjoy having sex with you," he continued, his gaze lowered as if he couldn’t fully look at you. "Because I do—more than I can put into words. But I didn’t want to pressure you, didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or like there was something wrong with what we already share."

For a moment, you stayed silent, absorbing what he had just confessed. You’d been so focused on your own thoughts and desires that you hadn’t considered Hinata’s side, his own fears. You looked at him, and the affection you felt for him grew even stronger.

"But now I know we need to talk about this," he said firmly, lifting his eyes to meet yours. "So if there’s something you want to explore... I want us to do it together. No matter how different it might be, if you’re ready, I’ll be ready too."

The relief you felt was almost immediate. It was as if all the tension that had been building between you, the small unspoken fears and doubts, dissolved in that moment.

"You didn’t need to be afraid," you said softly, taking his hand and brushing your fingers over it. "I would never want you to feel that way, Hinata. All I want is for us to be okay, to be together, and to always be able to talk about what we want."

He nodded slowly, a shy smile forming on his lips. "So... we’ll explore whatever you want to explore?" Your smile was answer enough, and in the end, no more words were necessary.

What had started as an open and honest conversation quickly transformed into a deeper connection—both physical and emotional. Hinata’s proximity, his touch at once decisive and tender, made your heart race. Without speaking, but with a gaze full of understanding, he made it clear that you both shared the desire to explore the unknown, to dive into new experiences together.

His hand, firm on your hips, gently pulled you toward him with a palpable desire. You felt his warmth through the fabric, and when he sat you on his lap, the contact became immediate and electrifying. The closeness didn’t just ignite the spark; it turned it into a blazing fire.

His lips found yours with a passion you hadn’t shared in some time—a renewed passion born from the vulnerability and sincerity of your conversation. His kiss was slow at first, exploratory, as if savoring every second of this new chapter in your relationship.

Your body responded instantly, instinctively leaning closer, letting yourself be swept away by the intensity of the moment. The feeling of being so near, of sharing something so intimate, filled you with a mix of nerves and excitement.

What started as a gentle kiss intensified with each second. Hinata's hands, which until now had been so careful, began to move with more determination. They ran down your back, touching the softness of your skin with a mix of urgency and devotion, as if they didn't want to leave anything unexplored. The touch of his hands against your body sent a warm current through your veins, an intense sensation that you hadn't experienced like that before.

His kiss became more demanding, an unexpected contrast to his usual tenderness, but somehow it was exactly what you wanted. Every movement of his lips and hands brought you closer to him, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. The world outside the room ceased to exist, leaving only the contact, the shared desire that now flowed unrestricted.

Every caress, every brush of skin on skin, seemed to have a purpose, as if both could read each other's desires without the need for words. The touch of his hands, so firm and soft at the same time, ran over your body with a familiarity that felt new, as if everything that had been kept in the silence of the previous years now wanted to come to light.

Your hand traveled to his abdomen, under the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingertips. There was something about that closeness that made you feel freer, more alive, as if you could finally allow yourself to be yourself without reservation. The pressure of his lips against yours, followed by his hand on the back of your neck, increased the desire to be even closer.

Each movement of his body towards yours made you want to explore more, discover more about what you both wanted at that moment. His hand, which had traveled to your leg, slightly lifted the fabric of your skirt, revealing your skin, making a shiver run through your body. The mix of sensations, the touch of his skin against yours was all you needed to lose yourself in the moment.

“Tell me what you want to do,” he whispered, his deep voice echoing in your ears, filling you with an indescribable feeling, a desire that grew with every word.

His lips moved with precision, leaving a trail of heat on the skin of your neck. Soft, barely perceptible bites followed by open-mouthed kisses that sent shivers down your spine. His breath against your skin mixed with the soft hum of the air conditioner, his every move igniting something inside you.

There was no rush in his actions, but no unnecessary softness either. It was a calculated intensity, a mix of dominance and attention that kept your senses alert. His firm hand on your hip held you in place, while his mouth explored every inch of your neck with a precision that seemed designed to make you lose yourself in the sensation.

His hands slowly moved down, firm and determined, until he squeezed your ass with a dominance that made you inhale sharply. The instinctive movement of your hips against his leg sent a wave of electricity through your body, suddenly reminding you of the question he had asked moments before.

“Tell me what you want to do,” he had said, and now the voice resonated in your mind like a persistent echo, as deep and clear as the heat radiating from his body.

You bit your lip, trying to organize your thoughts as your hips continued to seek contact, unconsciously marking a rhythm on his thigh. His gaze, dark and fixed on yours, seemed to demand a response, but not of empty words, but of action.

Your hands moved decisively, gripping his thighs with a firmness that made him raise an eyebrow, somewhere between surprised and fascinated. You knew how much you liked them, and you weren’t going to be shy about it. The pressure of your fingers on the well-defined muscles was a pleasure in itself, but the position you were in gave you more control, more freedom.

You moved your hips against him confidently, seeking to explore the connection his thighs could offer you. A spark of amusement crossed his face at the sight of your determination. “That’s it,” he murmured in a low, almost defiant tone, his hands returning to your hips to support you as he followed your every move.

With one agile movement, Hinata’s hands shot to your shoulders, holding you firmly but never losing his usual gentleness. Before you could process what was happening, he lifted you slightly, making you feel light as a feather in his arms.

With unparalleled delicacy, his nimble fingers slid your panties down in a determined motion. His dark eyes searched yours intently, as if asking for permission and confirmation to continue, though the heat in the air said it all. It was clear that every action of his was meant to make you feel better, more comfortable, and completely adored under his care.

Firmly, Hinata guided your hips back to his thigh, forcing you to sit on it once more. The intensity in his gaze left no room for doubt; in that moment, you were all that existed for him. The feel of the fabric of his pants against your bare skin was something new and unexpected, a contrast between rough and delicate that made you hold your breath.

With an almost frantic desire, your hips move hard on Hinata's thigh, searching for the perfect friction that will bring you to ecstasy. Each thrust of his leg against your pussy is like an explosion that shakes every cell of your being and leaves you yearning for more.

The wetness between your legs becomes overwhelming, almost painful, but you can't stop yourself. Each touch is like an intense electric current running through your body from your core to your toes. In that moment, you are completely immersed in surrender to the pleasure shared with Hinata.

You brought your hands to his shoulders, seeking a foothold as you let yourself be carried away by the need that flooded your body. The constant movement awakened sensations that were new to you, a heady mix of pleasure and vulnerability. Your fingers clung to the fabric of his shirt, an anchor you needed to not lose yourself completely in the whirlwind of emotions that consumed you.

"Are you feeling so desperate that you need to fuck yourself on my thigh?" Hinata whispered huskily, his hot breath tickling your ear. It was a question, but also a confident statement, as if he already knew the answer and was willing to take control.

Hinata’s hands slid down your hips, his thumbs tracing circles over your skin, heightening the intensity of the moment. The pressure of his thigh beneath you and the growing heat of his skin against yours made you feel a mix of euphoria and freedom that you hadn’t anticipated.

Hinata gripped your hips with a merciless grip, guiding you through each movement with surgical precision. “Don’t stop,” he ordered in a deep voice that rumbled inside you, charged with a fierce authority you had never known before. His eyes remained fixed on you, devouring your every expression as if it were his most prized food.

Without hesitation, you obeyed and moved with more confidence, allowing yourself to feel every touch, every pressure he generated as he held you with an almost painful firmness. Suddenly, his hands moved down from your hips to the base of your shirt and grabbed it with determination. In one fluid movement, he pulled the fabric up and removed it without hesitation.

The cool air hit your bare skin and it was such a sharp contrast to the heat of the room that it reminded you of how exposed you were in front of him. But Hinata didn’t stop there. With impressive dexterity, he found the clasp of your bra and opened it with a simple movement. The garment fell to the floor, leaving your skin exposed.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself, as his hands returned to your hips, making sure you didn’t break the rhythm he had set.

His lips returned to your neck, nibbling and sucking on the tender skin exposed before him, leaving marks, which for him are a direct way of claiming you in the sight of anyone. The whispered words of praise made your skin prickle and a shiver run through your body.

One of his hands settled on your back, pulling you towards him as he took one of your breasts between his lips. He gently tugged on your hard nipple with his teeth before rubbing it against his tongue, while his free hand pinched the other with a perfect mix of pressure and softness.

Your hips moved harder against him, seeking that perfect friction with each powerful thrust that made your body shudder with pleasure. Your head fell back, letting out moans and cries as his strong thigh repeatedly hit your clit and brought you to uncontrollable ecstasy.

“Hinata!” you screamed his name loudly, a desperate plea to climax. The movement of your hips grew faster and wilder, driven by a burning desire that consumed you. Your sensitive, swollen folds pressed against his thigh urgently, the juices of your arousal leaking from between them and soaking the fabric of his pants.

The pleasure was so intense that your words were jumbled together and coming out in incoherent babbles. His lips moved messily around your nipple, sucking and nibbling with deviously delicious skill while his other hand continued to torture the sensitive nub, making you even wetter than you already were. “Cum on my thigh,” he ordered you in a husky voice.

Your body was taken over by a loud moan that escaped your lips, dragging you into an orgasm that shook your entire being and made you tremble in Hinata’s arms. He stopped tending to your breasts, looking at you with desire as your watery eyes begged for his cock. But he wasn’t ready to give it to you yet, still wanting to see you come undone under his caresses before burying his member in your tight, wet hole.

“Please,” you begged, seeking his lips, but he stopped you with a firm hand holding your hair, keeping you in place. Hinata ran his tongue across your lips before gently tugging at your bottom lip with his teeth. “No,” he said firmly, “You will be a good slut for me and take everything I have to give you.”

Hinata held your hips tightly and dropped you onto the bed, your back sinking slightly into the mattress as he stood in front of you. His eyes met yours for an instant, heavy with something beyond words, something raw, unadorned.

With quick, almost mechanical movements, he unbuttoned his shirt. Buttons came free one by one until the white fabric fell from his shoulders, sliding unceremoniously to the floor. He didn’t stop. His hands moved to his waist, undoing his belt and pushing the rest of his clothes away in a hurry, as if they were more of a nuisance than a prelude.

Each piece went to a different place in the room. The movements weren’t delicate or careful; they were impulsive, as if time wasn’t something he could afford to waste.

You watched him from the bed, motionless but expectant, following each movement with your eyes, analyzing, processing. There were no smiles or unnecessary gestures, just the immediacy of a shared moment, the silence being interrupted only by the sound of clothes falling to the floor.

When he was completely naked, Hinata stood there for a moment, his breathing heavy but controlled. There was a palpable tension in the air, not of tenderness, but of something more physical, more instinctive. Then he leaned towards you, his hands resting on the mattress on either side of your body, and let the next movement speak for itself.

With a determined movement, he took the wrinkled fabric of your skirt in his large hands and pulled it up, exposing your hips. The skirt was a work of art, too pretty to be carelessly removed.

His hands spread your legs, exposing your cute pussy to his view. His gaze rested on it with a mix of desire and admiration. “You have the most beautiful pussy,” he said in a deep, almost husky voice. His honesty was so direct that it left no room for doubt. “It’s like it was made to tempt me… always so perfect.”

One of his hands gently caressed the inside of your thigh, while he used two fingers to part your swollen folds and continue to enjoy the sight. Your pussy glistened with the moisture that continued to ooze out of it.

He used his thumb to rub your clit, and you were so sensitive from the recent orgasm that your hips pressed hard against the mattress in search of relief. But his firm hands wouldn’t let you close your legs. Suddenly, he slapped your pussy. The sound of your wet skin being slapped echoed throughout the room.

“I asked you to be a good slut for me,” he growls as two of his fingers plunge into your dripping hole up to the knuckles. Hinata’s touch didn’t stop; his pace, slow and deliberate at first, began to increase in intensity.

His skilled fingers moved with increasing speed, delving right into that sweet spot inside you that had your body arching almost immediately. His gaze remained fixed on your face, attentive to every sound, every movement you made. Your eyes fluttered shut instinctively, immersing you in a sea of ​​overwhelming sensations.

The change was instantaneous. You, who until then had maintained a fragile control, let out a stifled moan, followed by a succession of broken gasps that filled the room. Your body convulsed under Hinata's expert touches, while he continued to explore every corner of your being with his fingers and his burning gaze.

Your hands clung to the sheets with desperate strength, squeezing and twisting them between your fingers as they searched for something to anchor themselves to in the midst of ecstasy. The sheets gave way under your relentless grip, forming deep wrinkles where your strength marked them. The soft sound of the fabric tearing echoed in the room, mixing with your moans and sighs.

Moans and moans escaped your mouth in desperation, as you tried to pull your hypersensitive pussy away from Hinata's relentless movements. But he gave you no respite, he was determined to tear another orgasm from you. With each thrust, your inner walls tightened and unclenched in an endless dance, enveloping his fingers tightly. Hinata increased the pace of his movements, his fingers thrusting in and out with frantic speed, seeking out that sensitive area that made you shudder.

His curled fingers caressed and pressed against your most sensitive spot, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “You can take it, you have a greedy pussy,” he murmured, urging you to give yourself over completely to the ecstasy that awaited you.

"Your rubbery walls clenched tightly against his fingers, as your hips curved away from the bed in a sensual arch. Your voice spilled over into cries, calling his name over and over as your legs shook uncontrollably.

You couldn't help but moan at the overwhelming pleasure he was bringing you, the way he was finger fucking you so delicious it even hurt. "More, oh god," you moaned, your hand desperately reaching out to grab onto his wrist to find some support on him. "I need another, please," you begged desperately, because you knew two fingers would never be enough to match the feeling his fat cock was providing you.

Every single one of your moans and pleading words gave him the confirmation he wanted: you were completely lost in that moment, completely his. Hinata noticed the change in your breathing, his body beginning to shake with the unmistakable sign that you were close to climax.

You gasped, unable to keep yourself in silence, your moans increasing in volume and desperation. “No… please don’t stop…” you begged, gripping the sheets even tighter, completely lost in what he was doing to you.

Ecstasy exploded once again, a torrent of uncontrollable sensations flooding over you. Your walls clenched tightly around his expert fingers, as if they wanted to lose themselves in them forever. His every move was a symphony of pleasure, every touch an explosion of fire and passion. You couldn’t control the moans escaping your mouth, nor did you want to.

Gently, Hinata removed his fingers from your body and brought them to your lips. “Open your mouth and suck on them” was his command, and you obeyed immediately, tasting your own juices on his fingers. A moan escaped your lips at the feel of you on him. Hinata stepped away for a moment to rummage through his things until he found what he was looking for: a black tie. A smile spread across his face as he approached you with it in his hand.

“Come here,” he whispered, waiting for you. Without question, you walked over to him and climbed down from the bed until you were in front of his body. Hinata wrapped the soft fabric around you, covering your eyes. Firmly, he tied the tie around your eyes, securing it tightly, leaving you completely blind to what was to come. Your world instantly went dark, your other senses heightening. The sound of his breathing, the feel of the sheets, the feeling of your skin still warming from his touch.

“You can’t see now, but you will hear everything I do.” His voice was low, filled with absolute confidence, allowing you to feel safe next to him. “Now, get on your knees.”

With a mix of anticipation and submission, you complied immediately. Your body trembled slightly, unable to contain the excitement that coursed through your being. With your head slightly bowed and your hands resting on your thighs, you knelt before him. You could still feel your heart racing and the agitated exhale from everything you had already experienced up to that point.

“I want to taste you,” you said shamelessly, making clear your deepest desires. The thought of it alone made your mouth water. The boldness of your words made a cocky smile appear on Hinata’s lips, his gaze darkening as he took in the lust you emanated. One of your hands ran up his legs, wrapping around his hard cock greedily.

With a firm hand, you explore every vein and ridge of his cock, feeling the warmth and strength of his member against your palm. With your thumb, you playfully stroke the tip of his cock, feeling the precum leaking out onto your hand. Eager to taste him, you take a teasing lick along his length.

Hinata moves his hips against you in a rhythm that makes you crave more. Without a second thought, you take his member into your mouth, taking in as much as he can fit in while using your hand to circle what can’t fit in your mouth. You feel him tighten his grip on your hair as you bob your head up and down his length, stimulating his tip with your playful tongue.

With a sharp movement, Hinata began to thrust his hips into your mouth. His movements were quick and precise, hitting the back of your throat over and over as he gripped your hair tightly to keep you in place as he continued to fuck your throat mercilessly. His rough moans escaped between his parted lips, filling the air with a heady mix of lust and unbridled desire.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good.” His words were rough and raw, but his voice was filled with pleasure as he growled with each thrust. His hips moved in a frantic rhythm, thrusting back and forth in a constant cycle. His hands were firmly held onto your thighs, holding you up so you could keep up with the fluid motion of your mouth on him. Each sensation was intense and electrifying, making you wonder how you could last much longer.

With his mind clouded with desire, Hinata could only think of how good your warm, tight pussy would feel around his cock. He pulled his member out of your mouth, and with one swift movement, he pushed you off of him. His chest rose and fell with each labored breath.

“Get up,” Hinata ordered you huskily. He guided you towards the bed, waiting for you to climb in, and before you could turn around, he pushed your chest hard into the mattress, making it clear that he wanted to fuck you in doggy style. The tip of his cock slammed into your still sensitive pussy from his earlier ministrations, drawing an uncontrollable moan from you.

“Hinata!” you cried out loudly as you felt him thrust into you hard, his hips colliding with your raised ass cheeks for him. His hands held the swirling skirt at your waist to use as leverage to pull you into him with each thrust.

“You have the most exquisite pussy, baby. Fuck, you take me so well,” Hinata murmured between moans. One of his hands squeezed your ass and slapped it hard, while the other kneaded the sensitive skin. “Oh god, oh god, don’t stop,” you begged as pleasure took over your entire body.

A series of spanks echoed through the room, leaving red marks on your ass cheeks as Hinata thrust into you hard again and again. The steady rhythm of thrusting in and out of you made your skin crawl and your moans turned into screams of pleasure. Your inner walls clenched around him, refusing to let go. All you could think about was how well your husband was fucking you, his member pushing deep into your vagina and caressing your cervix, making you scream even louder.

Rebel tears fell onto the fabric of the tie tied to your eyes as you enjoyed each thrust. With one hand, you reached for your clit and stimulated it in circular motions, adding yet another layer of pleasure to your body.

You were sure that Hinata’s powerful hand would leave marks on your hips the next day, but that didn’t matter as he continued to pound you hard and passionately. Each crash against your inner walls made the sound of sloshing fill the room, and you clenched down harder seeking to milk him for all the pleasure possible.

“Please fill me,” you begged Hinata, moving your hips in rhythm with his and squeezing him even further inside you.

With one last thrust, Hinata let himself go and spilled inside you, filling you with his essence as you reached a climax so intense it left you shaking. Together, you lay there tangled in a mix of sweat and pleasure, until you finally caught your breath and broke apart to rest on the bed.

[demensrage]

The blue MAGA mask fell off, how cute

Now blue MAGA wishes Gaza will be turned into a parking space… Funny that you had the nerve to say that Trump is a fascist, this fact makes you hypocrites

Well, who expected that if you are aggressive, you will pay for it?

Apparently, teaching in Israel is so bad that they don't even know that every action has a consequence

I love how the media ignores everything that came before (And their lack of respect for the victims, comparing it to Kristallnacht and the Pogroms, yes, I don't need to tell you how disgusting it is…)

By the way, all Arabs? Also the Jewish ones? Isn't this slightly ANTI-SEMItic?

[demensrage]

oh! ok yeah literally unfollow me if you’re a trump supporter??? fucking weirdo

[demensrage]

does anyone wanna hold hands until we feel a little braver

[demensrage]

k for keep it open for me ⚊ • . with eren jeager

summary: what starts out as a simple conversation ends up in an extensive exploration, where your lustful lover can't seem to get enough of you, drunk on all your body can give him.

cw: established relationship, oral (f. receiving), tits sucking, face riding, eating cum, fingering.

word count: 2.4k

© demensrage 2024. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

You were lying on the bunk, curled up in your boyfriend’s arms while he playfully picked at your hair, gently stroking it and alternating between slow massages that relieved the stress from your body. Moments filled with peace like these are what you love to have, where the weight on your partner's shoulders no longer existed, even if just for a moment.

It took you a long time to get him back. After cleaning the island of the titans, your boyfriend was never the same again. He would disappear for hours, and when you looked for him, he was always in the same place: the ocean. Staring at the horizon with a rage that made your heart shrink, fracturing your soul into a thousand pieces.

Now everything seems to be going well. You can enjoy his little smiles, the stolen kisses, and the fleeting midnight conversations, like tonight. Where you decided to forget everything and remain wrapped in the warmth that emanates from each other's skin, filling your hearts with the calm they deserve; after so long, you deserve to steal those moments.

“The sky looks so beautiful. Lately, the nights have been filling the sky with stars,” you whispered, listening intently to the beating of his heart. He was relaxed; you knew it from his slow, deep breathing, the rhythm of his heart, and the softness of his voice.

“It’s more beautiful when the sunset falls. The color blends never cease to amaze me,” he murmured, his voice as low as a whisper that mingled with the movement of the wind. “When I see the sunset, I think of you.”

You lifted your head, resting your chin on your hands on his chest. Your eyes shone with excitement; you were overflowing with love and grateful every morning for having Eren as your partner. You had faced difficulties, yes, but love was never a fleeting thing.

“Why?” you asked curiously, ready to delight in his words, which had long ago screamed, hated, and loved at the same time. His duality was merely another projected form of his fragmented soul.

“You are as beautiful as one,” he confessed, lowering his gaze to connect with yours, one hand gently caressing your cheek. “You are warm; everyone loves to see you, and your colors reflect how I see you. You are vibrant.”

“Your eyes, like the sky at its peak, are a deep sea that evokes the calm of a perfect day,” Eren continued, his voice a whisper that danced in the air. “Every hue of the sunset is a reminder of the light you bring into my life. Without you, the colors fade, turning gray and cold, like a forgotten canvas.”

You smiled, feeling how Eren's words wove a warm blanket around your heart. The connection between you both was palpable, a golden thread that intertwined your souls, overcoming every obstacle life had imposed on you. “You’ve always had a special way of seeing the world,” you said, letting laughter bubble up like the murmur of the nearby river. “Even in my darkest moments, you manage to find the light.”

Eren tilted his head, his intense gaze fixed on yours, as if trying to unveil all the secrets you held. “Because you are my light, my inspiration,” he replied, each word laden with sincerity that enveloped you like the warm embrace of sunset. “With you, I've learned that even the most difficult moments can transform into something beautiful if there is love. Your love is the beacon that guides me.”

You moved closer to him, feeling your heart pulse faster. His eyes, so deep and filled with affection, urged you to come even closer. With a softness that almost felt like a whisper, you pressed your lips to Eren’s, the contact igniting a spark that coursed through your entire being.

The kiss was tender and passionate, a perfect blend of love and promise. You felt as if you were floating, as if the world around you faded away, leaving only the echo of your hearts beating in unison. Eren responded to your touch with a tenderness that enveloped you, his hands caressing your back, pulling you closer to him.

One of Eren’s hands took your leg, helping you climb onto his lap while his lips continued exploring yours with captivating sweetness. The touch of his skin was warm and electrifying, and you felt completely immersed in that moment. His kiss grew deeper, as if each contact spoke of a love that had endured the test of time and adversity.

With one hand resting on the pillow where his head lay, you felt safe and cherished. That simple position was a reflection of the trust you shared; you were there, in his world, feeling how each beat of his heart resonated with yours. Eren looked at you, his eyes filled with desire and tenderness, while a playful smile danced on his lips between each kiss.

As his hands glided smoothly down your back, they slipped under your skirt, his hands caressing your backside with a fervor that made you shudder. Eren couldn’t get enough of you; every touch was a declaration of his desire, a palpable yearning that drove him to explore every inch of your body. The mix of passion and need was intense, and you could feel his breathing quickening, almost erratic.

Your skin burned under his touch, each caress provoking a torrent of sensations. Eren enveloped you with a voracity that left you breathless, his desire spilling over with every brush. There were no limits in that moment, only the urge to lose yourselves in each other.

You surrendered to the intensity of his caresses, allowing the world to fade away around you. The combination of his warmth and your submission created an atmosphere charged with electricity, where each second felt eternal, and time held no meaning.

His kisses trailed down your neck, biting the soft skin with an intensity that made you tremble. Eren's hands slid firmly down the neckline of your blouse, pulling the fabric apart more and more as his desire grew. His touch was direct, almost eager, and the urgency in his demeanor made it clear he couldn’t get enough of you.

He pushed you closer to him, the contact of his body against yours raising the temperature in the air. His mouth continued its descent, leaving marks on your skin as his hands moved confidently, without reservations. You let yourself be carried away by the intensity of his desire, feeling the atmosphere grow increasingly charged.

He took one of your breasts in his mouth, sucking eagerly as if he were completely lost in the moment. Eren, addicted to kissing you and touching every part of your body, seemed to have no limits. You leaned further into him, pressing your chest against his mouth, feeling the warmth of his breath and the brush of his tongue.

Small moans escaped your lips involuntarily, each one a response to the intensity of his touch. His need for you was palpable, and you surrendered to the sensation, pleasure flooding every part of you as he continued to explore.

He deftly moved your panties aside with a skill that showed his confidence. Eren was ready to indulge in what he loved to do. His hand slid between your legs, his fingers quickly finding the spot that made you moan. The pressure was intense and deliberate; he did it with a clear purpose.

You arched towards him, letting out a sigh that was a mix of pleasure and need. His fingers worked with skill, exploring every nook, every curve, while his mouth remained busy. His attention was total, focusing on how you echoed his movements.

Eren pushed firmly, his fingers taking you to the edge, while his lips moved to your neck, leaving marks of his desire. The combination of his caresses and kisses made you lose your senses, taking you to a state of pure surrender. Each touch was more intense, as if he were marking a path toward imminent pleasure.

His movements grew more urgent, and your moans increased, filling the space between you. You felt completely exposed, yet at the same time, in the safest place you could imagine. It was a blend of vulnerability and power, where you surrendered to the need of what was happening.

With each passing moment, the air thickened. Eren showed no intention of stopping; he was determined to take you where you both wanted to go. You responded to his movements, feeling how each caress heightened the tension in your body.

“Move your hips for me,” he said, keeping his fingers still, inviting you to pursue your pleasure using his hands. The pressure in his voice was clear, a stimulus that made you want to please him while surrendering to the need that enveloped everything.

With a deep breath, you began to move your hips to the rhythm you desired. The sensation of his touch, so firm yet so gentle, intensified with each movement. You felt the connection deepening, as if each impulse sent a current of electricity through your body.

Your hips rose and fell in sync with the growing pleasure, and Eren watched you intently. His eyes were fixed on you, admiring how your breasts moved in harmony with each of your movements, the rhythm creating a hypnotic dance that kept him completely captivated.

Every thrust of yours seemed to intensify his desire. The way you surrendered to pleasure made him want more; each moan that escaped your lips filled him with energy. The connection between you was palpable, a game of power and surrender fed by mutual desire.

With each movement, you felt the tension building inside you, like a taut string ready to snap. You needed him closer, so you moved your hips, trying to close any gap that might exist between you and his mouth. Grabbing your legs, you pressed them against your chest, feeling the pleasure intensify with each movement. The position allowed you to surrender completely, and that pressure inside you grew stronger.

Eren, always attentive, let himself be carried away by your need. The way you wrapped your legs around him excited him even more, and his movements became more intense. Your moans mingled with the sound of his mouth working, and each time you felt his tongue exploring, a shiver ran through your body. The intensity grew, and each thrust of your hips made him deepen his focus, enjoying the way you surrendered to that unrestrained pleasure.

Eren didn’t stop; his hands gripped your hips, keeping you under his control while you sought more. You let yourself go, making it clear that you wanted everything from him, that each caress, each lick made you want more. The line between pleasure and need blurred, and all that remained was the desire to surrender completely.

The pressure inside you grew, and you knew you were on the brink of a climax you couldn’t avoid.

“You feel so good; I could spend hours here,” Eren murmured, his voice thick with desire. His words resonated in the air, filling the space between you with a palpable intensity. The way he reveled in you made him feel more possessive, hungrier, and that connection only heightened the urgency within you.

“Don’t stop,” you said between moans, feeling how the need began to take over. Your body responded to his touch, and you clung to that sensation, surrendering to what was happening. It was a moment of pure indulgence.

Eren looked at you eagerly as he settled on his back, his gaze fixed on you, reflecting an uncontrollable desire. “Sit on my face,” he ordered, and you didn’t think twice.

You positioned yourself over him, feeling his warm breath against your skin. The connection between you felt even more intense in this new position, where you now had control. You slowly lowered yourself, feeling how his mouth welcomed you, the pressure of his tongue and lips enveloping you immediately.

Pleasure surged, and you couldn’t help but let out a moan. The way he moved, his devotion, made you feel as if you were on top of the world. Your hips began to move, searching for the perfect rhythm as he delighted in you, savoring every moment.

Eren seemed to be in ecstasy, his hands gripping your thighs, guiding you firmly. Every movement you made, every thrust, only intensified the voracity of his desire. You felt powerful, completely absorbed in the moment as you held him captive between your legs.

You gripped his hair tightly as you moved your hips, feeling the pressure inside you increase. “I’m so close,” you told him between moans, sensing that climax was just a step away. Every movement you made was synchronized with his mouth, intensifying the pleasure coursing through you.

Eren reacted to your words, his gaze filled with desire and satisfaction. His hands remained clasped around your thighs, pushing you toward him as you sought that point of no return. The combination of his tongue and your movement became a storm of sensations, making everything around you fade away.

“Cum for me,” he replied, almost like a whisper, urging you on. The connection between you was palpable, and you let yourself go, feeling the pleasure build in your abdomen. It was as if the world stopped, and only that moment between you existed.

With each thrust of your hips, the wave of pleasure intensified, making you lose control. The sensations accumulated, and you could no longer resist. Eren seemed to revel in your surrender, his devotion to you only making you want to give more, to feel more.

“I’m going to…,” you started to say, but the words faded into a moan as you finally let yourself go completely, the climax bursting forth in an explosion of sensations. Pleasure enveloped you, and in that instant, everything else faded away, leaving you at the mercy of waves of satisfaction.

Eren swallowed and consumed everything you had to give him, his devotion palpable as he enjoyed you to the fullest. Every movement of his mouth on you was ravenous, as if he wanted to absorb every sensation emanating from you. The way he surrendered to you intensified the wave of pleasure that continued to flow through your body.

You let yourself be carried away by his hunger, feeling how he held onto you, completely immersed in his task. There was nothing but the warmth of his mouth, the brush of his tongue, and the pressure of his lips, creating a torrent of sensations that kept you on the brink of ecstasy.

[demensrage]

j for just make me a mess ⚊ • . with chrollo lucilfer

summary: after a successful robbery, the leader of the phantom troupe must reward his wife for having been the essential key to the success of the organization, what better reward than submitting to her.

cw: established relationship, switch!reader, switch!chrollo, nipple play, slight orgasm denial, face riding, choking kink.

word count: 6k

© demensrage 2024. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

You had been essential to the success of the Phantom Troupe last heist, so much so that the atmosphere in that mansion, now their new hideout, overflowed with euphoria and celebration. The expensive crystal chandeliers and fine paintings adorned the space like a perfect reflection of the success achieved, and every corner of the house seemed to whisper temptations of power and conquest.

Being with the leader granted you more than privileges; you were untouchable, and the other members knew it well. It took just a suggestive glance and a mischievous smile for Chrollo, always accommodating when it came to your whims, to grant you ownership of that opulent loot.

Chrollo's eyes watched you, intense and dark, as if he sensed that your desire for material things was merely an extension of the deeper, darker desires he himself awakened in you. In a slow movement, you approached the central chandelier, brushing the tips of your fingers against the crystals reflecting the flickering lights. You knew he was smiling behind you, delighted by how you immersed yourself in luxury, possessing it as if it had belonged to you forever.

"Everything you desire is yours," Chrollo whispered, and his words were more than a mere statement. They were a promise, a sweet threat, an inevitable decree that in that mansion, just like in your life, he wanted you as captive to his desires as you were to your own.

You turned to look at him, the air between you charged with electrifying tension. His gaze focused on your skin, where the spider tattoo began on your shoulder, its legs extending elegantly toward your neck, a symbol of loyalty and connection. The number zero was more than just a design; it was an emblem you shared with him, a mark of belonging that bound you to Chrollo in a profound and unique way.

He smiled, his expression reflecting both pride and desire. "You are part of the Brigade," he said, his voice soft yet firm, "like me. Always."

The heat of his gaze enveloped you, and in that moment, you understood that the tattoo represented not just your connection to him, but also to the power you both possessed. It was a reminder that, although you were his wife, you were also a force to be reckoned with.

You leaned closer, brushing your fingers across his chest, challenging his personal space, a game you both knew well. "And you, my love," you replied in a seductive tone, "are the one who makes this spider feel so alive."

Chrollo's smile widened, and a spark of approval shone in his eyes. He knew you were not just his wife; you were his equal, and together, nothing in this world could stop you.

You took his hand, pulling him toward the main room with an air of determination and mischief. Chrollo followed obediently, the trust between you palpable in every step you took. As you crossed the threshold, you closed the door behind you, and before he could utter a word, you kissed him fervently.

Your lips met his in a voracious movement, a clash of desires igniting the spark between you. You knew you had plans for that night; the thought of taking advantage of him made you smile internally. Each encounter was a seductive dance, a mutual surrender where he always seemed to lose himself in you, but this time was different.

The intensity of his kiss made you forget the outside world. Chrollo held you firmly, his hands exploring every inch of your body as if he wanted to etch your form into his memory. Yet, there was always something in the air, a challenge, a silent promise that this night would be special.

It was hard to recall a moment when he hadn't left you sprawled on the bed, feeling completely overwhelmed by pleasure. The moans and whispers became a private symphony between you, a language that only the two of you understood. In that instant, you wished time would stand still, that every second would stretch as you explored the limits of your connection, each kiss and caress more intense than the last.

With a mischievous smile, you pulled away slightly, looking into his eyes, challenging him to take you to a new level of delight, knowing that no matter how many times he made you feel this way, there was always more to discover together.

"Tonight, I lead," you whispered against his ear, letting your words slide like a gentle provocation. The warmth of your breath sent a shiver down his spine, and Chrollo stood still, anticipating what was to come.

You moved closer, leaving a trail of kisses and soft bites along his jawline, feeling how his skin reacted to each caress. As you descended toward his neck, you reveled in the taste of his skin, enjoying the contrast between his firmness and the softness of your lips. The way his breathing grew heavier told you that every move you made excited him, and that only increased your confidence.

Chrollo, always so controlled, now allowed himself to be swept away by your dominance, like a warrior surrendering to his conqueror. You knew this night was yours, and that filled you with power. Every kiss and bite you left on his skin was a reminder of your victory, a small trophy for allowing the Troupe to succeed in its last heist.

You gripped the headboard of the bed as you moved your hips in a hypnotic rhythm, feeling the tension in the air. Chrollo was completely at your mercy, his face between your thighs, and he couldn’t help but lose himself in the delight you offered him. Every movement of yours plunged him into a maelstrom of repressed desires, and the way you rode him left him eager, wishing he could touch you, but he was restricted by the restraints you had placed on his hands.

You knew he was trying to suppress his strength, controlling himself so he wouldn’t break the restraints and drag you into a fight where you both knew you would lose control. But that was precisely what you were after: to have him completely at your disposal, allowing him to enjoy you without the ability to influence the game.

The pressure of his breath on your skin sent shivers down your spine, and every time you moved your hips, his mouth moved in a desperate attempt to get closer to you, as if he wanted to devour you. “You can only eat me,” you reminded him, smirking as you looked into his eyes, bright with desire.

His gaze answered you with a mix of defiance and surrender, an eloquent silence that said he was willing to accept any conditions you imposed on him. Chrollo was a master in the art of patience, but tonight, being restrained and subdued by your will, it was as if he was on the verge of exploding, the tension building between you palpably electric.

With every move you made, every back and forth, you knew you were pushing him to the edge. And as he gave himself over to the pleasure of just being able to kiss you, lick you, and devour you with his gaze, you felt in control, a power that fueled both your desire and his.

Chrollo sucked hard, his lips wrapped around your clit, reveling in the moans that escaped your lips. Every sound you made became his driving force, pushing him to give you the pleasure you so desperately needed and that he so desired. You let yourself go, feeling the tension building in your abdomen, a torrent of sensations threatening to overflow.

With one hand, you brought your palm to his hair, squeezing it tightly, directing his attention to what made you most enjoy it. He responded to your touch with renewed intensity, knowing that each tug was a silent command, a warning that he should intensify his devotion to you.

“Be a good husband and make me come,” you commanded, the tone of your voice a mix of authority and desire. You continued to rock your hips back and forth, creating a rhythm that made him work harder. You knew you were keeping him on the edge of madness; his dedication and surrender were unwavering.

Chrollo threw himself into the task, his lips and tongue exploring every corner, every fiber of your being, searching for that response you desired. His eyes lifted to you, and in them was a mix of admiration and need, a reflection of the desire you shared. You liked the control you had over him, and the way his body reacted to your every move gave you a satisfaction you couldn’t ignore.

The waves of pleasure began to intensify, and the outside world faded away, leaving only the heat of his mouth and your growing desire. With every lick, every suck, you came closer to climax, the echo of your moans intertwining with Chrollo’s desperation to please you. You knew that, tonight, you would be the one to take both of them to new heights.

You pressed your thighs against his face as you orgasmed, a torrent of sensations that tore through you like lightning. The moans that had previously escaped your lips transformed into a scream of pleasure that filled the room, echoing off the walls as your climax consumed you completely.

Chrollo, trapped between your legs, showed no intention of backing down. His tongue and lips worked tirelessly, taking you further than you thought possible. The pressure of your thighs on his face was a mix of control and surrender, and as the wave of pleasure swept you away, his breathing became deeper, almost as if he too was reaching a point of no return.

The intensity of the moment engulfed you, and every contraction of your body was a sign that you were nearing the end, a point where pleasure and release came together in an explosion of ecstasy. Chrollo, feeling your body respond to his ministrations, intensified his movements, his devotion evident in every caress, every suck, as if he was determined to take you even further.

Finally, as the climax reached its peak, you felt your entire being fill with overflowing euphoria, your mind clouded by the intensity of the moment. You closed your eyes and let yourself fall, clinging to his hair tighter as the spasms of pleasure took hold of you. As the wave of pleasure began to dissipate, you opened your eyes to find Chrollo’s intense gaze fixed on you, a mix of satisfaction and longing in his expression.

You lowered yourself from his mouth, crawling up his body and capturing his mouth in an effervescent kiss that ignited the spark of passion again. The intensity of his lips on yours caused a moan to escape your throat, a sound that spoke of how much you wanted him. Chrollo clenched the fabric of the bed tightly, fighting the urge to break the bonds that kept him restrained.

You tasted yourself on his mouth, letting the mix of saliva and desire flow between you, an exchange that only increased the tension between the two of you. “If you break the ropes, there’s no sex for you,” you threatened him, a glint of mischief in your eyes as you took his cock in your hands. The pressure you exerted brought him some relief, and his breathing became deeper, his desire palpable in the air.

Chrollo looked at you, the internal struggle reflected in his eyes. The promise of pleasure and the threat of deprivation intertwined in a game that only the two of you could understand. His body tensed under your touch, and you could feel his desire rising, eager for release, but also eager to play along.

“You are a dangerous woman,” he said in a low whisper, a crooked smile playing on his lips. But there was a glint in his gaze, one that showed he was more than willing to obey your commands, to give himself over completely to whatever you decided.

With a gentle movement, you decided to increase the tension between you. You pulled back slightly, holding his hardness in your hands, and looked into his eyes, daring him to resist. “Are you going to behave, or should I make this even harder for you?”

You moved your hands up and down in a cruelly slow manner, enjoying every passing second as you watched Chrollo’s internal struggle. The way his body responded to your touch, tense and eager, was a delight that only increased your desire to control him.

“Are you going to behave?” you asked, letting the tension in the air grow. His eyes, dark and deep, shone with a mix of desire and frustration as he tried to maintain his composure. You could feel the need in his gaze, the longing to break free from the bonds that kept him restrained.

Chrollo inhaled deeply, trying to control his breathing. “You know I can’t resist,” he admitted, his voice a low whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. The sincerity of his words echoed in the air, and it made you smile. You knew he was caught between the desire to obey you and the need to take control.

With every movement, your hands sliding slowly and deliberately, you kept him on the edge of desperation. You could see his body twitch, how he struggled not to break the ropes that held him at your mercy. It was a dangerous game, one you both enjoyed, where every touch was a promise of what was to come, and every whisper, a challenge to his self-control.

“Give me a reason to keep going like this,” you challenged, the sweetness of your voice contrasting with the intensity of the moment. The answer you sought was written in his expression, in the way his breathing quickened and his body moved towards you, seeking more of you. But you wanted him to say it, to give himself over completely to your will.

Chrollo bit his lip, desire and frustration clearly visible on his face. “You’re the reason,” he said, his voice a murmur laden with intensity. “There’s nothing I want more than you right now.”

That answer made you smile, a flash of satisfaction crossing your face. You knew you had touched his weak spot, and that knowledge only increased your power over him. You moved your hands once more, slowly moving up to his base and stopping just before he climaxed. The way his body reacted, trembling and yearning, gave you a feeling of dominance you couldn’t ignore.

“So what will you do to prove it?” you asked, leaning in close to whisper those words directly into his ear. The closeness allowed you to bask in his warmth, in the scent emanating from his skin, while keeping him on the edge of desperation.

“I’ll do anything,” Chrollo replied, his eyes locked on yours, full of determination. “But I need more than this. I need you to let me take you.”

“Is that all? Just a little petting and that’s it?” The mockery in your voice made him frown, but it also gave him a new surge of defiance. You knew he wanted more, and you intended to keep him in this power game. “Come on, show me how you’re capable of being a good husband. I want to see that dedication.”

You moved your hands once more, faster this time, eliciting an immediate response from his body. His breathing became more erratic, and you could feel the tension building in the air between you. Chrollo bit his lip, his eyes closed for a moment as he tried to control the surge of pleasure that washed over him.

“You’re cruel,” he said, voice cracking, though his tone was not one of reproach, but acceptance. “But I will. I promise that when you release me, I will take you to the limits of what we can achieve together.”

The promise in his words was an echo of your own desire, and it only made the anticipation grow in your chest. “Then, you’ll just have to be patient,” you replied, leaning in to kiss him once more, letting the chemistry between you intensify. “Tonight, you are my plaything, and I will decide when you will be released.”

You stopped your movements, slowly moving down to kiss his neck, leaving a mark of your possession with a small bite that made a shiver run through his body. The way he reacted to your touch made you smile; You knew he had the willpower of a leader, but in those moments, he was completely at your mercy.

You continued your descent, leaving a trail of hot kisses down his torso, enjoying the taste of his skin and the heat emanating from him. Reaching one of his nipples, you took it into your mouth with a mix of sweetness and ferocity, alternating between sucking and small bites.

Chrollo let out a moan, his body arching slightly towards you, seeking more of the attention you were giving him. His reaction turned you on even more, and the way your movements were connected to his pleasure made you feel powerful and desired. You could see how he struggled to contain himself, his jaw clenched and his gaze fixed on you, unable to take his eyes off what you were doing.

“So this is what you want, is it?” you whispered in a playful tone, as you kept his nipple between your lips, playing with it. The smile that formed on your face only intensified the need in his eyes.

“You are insatiable,” Chrollo replied, his voice cracking as he tried to control his desire. “But this is only the beginning. You can’t leave me like this.”

“Of course I can,” you replied, letting out a soft laugh as your eyes sparkled with mischief. The confidence in your voice was a challenge, a provocation that goaded him into reacting. You knew he was on edge, wanting you to push him past his limit, but you also enjoyed the control you had at the moment.

You lowered your gaze, enjoying the effect you had on him. “If you want me to continue, you’ll have to make an effort,” you said, moving back to his torso, letting your lips explore him with devotion. Each kiss a reminder of what he could get if he met your expectations, as you continued to play with his desire.

“What would you like me to do?” Chrollo asked, his voice low and heavy with need. You could see frustration starting to mix with his desire, and it only increased your satisfaction. “Tell me, and I’ll do whatever you ask.”

You laughed softly, enjoying his surrender. “No, love. Tonight you’re just going to receive,” you told him, looking into his eyes with an intensity that made it clear that your decisions were the ones that ruled. “I want you to focus on what you feel. No interruptions, no complaints. Just you and me.”

With that message clear, you began to leave a series of wet kisses down his abdomen, working your way down with deliberate intent. Your tongue drew patterns on his skin, tasting every part of him as you continued to enjoy complete control over his pleasure. Chrollo, who had been so confident and dominant before, was now completely at your mercy, and the revelation of his vulnerability only intensified the desire you felt for him.

“Get ready,” you murmured, before continuing to move down, enjoying the lead up to what was to come, each move a step further in the game you two had begun.

You took him in your hands once more, feeling the warmth of his skin against your fingers. With a playful movement, you left a small kitten lick over the tip, enjoying the way his body instantly reacted. His eyes widened, and a mix of surprise and desire flashed in them as you looked up at him with a mischievous expression.

“You like this?” You asked softly, your gaze locked on his. You knew he was desperate for more, and this moment of torture only served to intensify his need. The way he struggled to stay in control, how his breathing became more labored, was music to your ears.

Every soft lick you gave, every little touch you made was designed to prolong his pleasure and make him even more eager. You knew exactly how to play your cards, and seeing the frustration on his face only heightened your excitement.

“Just a little more,” you whispered, as you leaned a little closer, your lips caressing his skin gently. You could see how his body responded to every movement, desire building as you kept him right on the edge. “Just a little patience and I promise I’ll reward you.”

Your intention was to make him feel what it meant to be your plaything, and the power you had over him only made everything more electrifying. Chrollo tried to control himself, but you knew that every second that passed brought him closer to a point of no return. With a smile on your face, you prepared to continue your little torture, enjoying the way you drove him to the edge of madness.

He moved his hips desperately, trying to get deeper into your mouth, but you refused, pulling away with a nimble, playful movement. His frustration was palpable, his body tense and eager for what he couldn’t reach. The way his eyes burned with desire only added to your satisfaction, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched him struggle with his own impatience.

“Do you want more?” you asked, leaning into him with a seductive tone of voice, letting the tension fill the air between you. “Then you’ll have to earn it.” The tease in your words was intentional, a challenge that only accentuated his desire for you.

You played with him again, your hands making gentle movements, but keeping the same distance as before. You could feel his breathing becoming more and more erratic, his body seeking the sense of relief you had the control to give him.

“There’s no rush, love. I want you to truly feel every moment.” The frustration on his face grew even more intense, but there was also a glint of admiration in his gaze, an acceptance of your dominance. “You’re cruel,” he said, his voice a whisper filled with desire. But the mix of frustration and desire only fueled the fire between you, and you enjoyed every second of that game.

With a mischievous smile, you moved a little closer, letting your lips caress his skin without committing. “Cruel? Maybe. But it’s a game we both enjoy.” With that line, you held your ground, allowing him to experience the desperation of his desire as you decided how much more you could take.

You decided to keep teasing him, keep teasing him. You moved your hands a little faster, feeling the tension build with each movement. You ground his hips into the bed, the feeling of his body responding to your touch filling you with power.

Chrollo began to moan, a deep, needy sound that echoed through the room. “God, please…” he gasped, his voice heavy with desperation. He pulled at the ropes that bound him, as if that would free him from the storm of pleasure you were providing him. Every moan was a reminder of your control over him, and the pride you felt in hearing it was indescribable.

“So you like this?” you asked, your voice a soft murmur that mingled with his moans. “Don’t worry, baby. I promise it’s just the beginning.” You watched as his body squirmed, searching for that moment of connection you kept just out of reach.

“Ahhh! No… don’t stop,” Chrollo exclaimed, his breathing becoming more labored. Every word that left his lips was an echo of his desire, and your heart filled with satisfaction. “I can’t take it…”

“Can’t take it? Do you like being my toy?” you asked with a smile, intensifying your movements as you looked into his eyes, enjoying the battle he fought between pleasure and the need to release himself.

“Yes! I’m yours… Just do it…” His voice was a whisper filled with surrender, and each word only reinforced the control you had over him. You knew you were driving him to the edge, and it filled you with an indescribable pride.

Chrollo continued to moan, each sound a testament to his surrender to you, as you kept your steady pace, enjoying the pleasure you shared in this power play.

“If only others saw you like this,” you said in a teasing tone, clicking your tongue in denial as you moved your hands faster. The pressure you exerted was delicious, a perfect blend of pleasure that you knew he loved.

“What would they say about you? Your little slut of a wife,” you added with a mischievous smile, enjoying how those words echoed in his mind. The way his eyes briefly closed, as if just thinking about it intensified his desire, only increased your satisfaction.

“Don’t say that!” Chrollo replied, though his voice was filled with pleasure, a contrast that made it clear that those words excited him. “I'm not… I'm not a slut…” But each sentence faded into a moan that made clear otherwise.

“You're not? Of course you are, baby,” you told him, as your movements became more intense, enjoying the control you had over him. “You're my slut, and I love it. Watching you like this, completely at my mercy… it's a beautiful sight.”

He moaned in response, his hips involuntarily moving towards you, seeking deeper contact. “Ahh, no… I can't…” The struggle between his pride and his desire was palpable, and watching him slowly give in filled you with deep satisfaction.

“Just let yourself go, love. No one has to know. You're mine tonight, and I promise I'll make you feel amazing,” you whispered, as you continued to play with him, enjoying the moment and the power you held in your hands.

With your other free hand, you began to massage his heavy balls, feeling them quiver under your expert touch. You knew he was close; the sheen of the tip with precum alone made your mouth water. Anticipation filled the air as you leaned into him, reveling in the power you held at that moment.

You took a tentative lick, tasting the sweetness of desire emanating from him. “Are you close, my love?” you asked, your voice soft and teasing. The way his eyes widened, filled with a mix of desire and desperation, only added to your arousal.

“Yes! God, yes!” Chrollo exclaimed, his voice cracking with the intensity of the pleasure. Every word that left his lips was an echo of his need, and you enjoyed the spectacle he put on. The struggle to maintain control was on the verge of crumbling, and the sight filled you with satisfaction.

“Do you want me to let you go?” you asked, increasing the pressure of your hands, enjoying the way his body writhed before you. “Or would you rather I keep you on the edge a little longer…”

“Please… no… I can’t… hold on any longer,” he panted, the need palpable in his voice. His body arched, seeking the release you had the power to give or deny him. And in that instant, you decided you wanted to enjoy a little more of his agony, of his total surrender.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” you said with mock sorrow, pulling your hands away from him. The expression on his face turned from desire to confusion, and frustration began to take over his gaze. The way his body tensed, eager for your touch, only increased your amusement.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Don’t you like to play?” you asked in a playful tone, enjoying the way he moved his hips, trying to get closer to you again. The image of his desperation was a delight, and the power you had over him filled you with satisfaction.

“Please don’t leave me like this…” Chrollo pleaded, his voice cracking. His words were a song to your ego, and watching him squirm at your decision only increased your desire to keep him in that state of pleasurable agony.

“Maybe if you were a good husband and didn’t pull the strings…” you suggested, looking at his face with a mix of tenderness and defiance. “Maybe you could have what you so desire.”

He sighed, frustrated but still filled with desire. “I’ll do whatever you want… just don’t leave me like this.” His words were a plea, and you knew he had to give in to your will.

“So, tell me how much you want me, and maybe I’ll reconsider,” you challenged, enjoying the tension in the air, every second a mix of shared control and desire.

Chrollo looked at you, frustration and desire warring in his eyes. “I want you… I want you more than you can imagine,” he admitted, his voice shaking with need. The sincerity in his words was palpable, and you couldn’t help but smirk.

“Really? More than you want to release?” you asked, enjoying the game. The tension in the room was almost electric, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him.

“Yes, please… I’m willing to do whatever you want,” he pleaded, his body still trembling with the promise of the pleasure you had initiated.

“Perfect,” you said, moving back towards him, your hands seeking his skin. You began to massage his thighs, leaving a trail of kisses along his body, slowly moving closer to his center. “Because only you know what I want, don’t you?”

His eyes closed as he enjoyed your touch, and Chrollo let out a low moan. “Yes… yes I do. But… please… don’t leave me like this again,” he begged, the desperation clearly evident in his tone.

“It’s okay, baby,” you whispered, enjoying his vulnerability. “I’ll give you what you want, but first you must show me how grateful you are for it.” And so, you began to play again, your hands moving with the same slowness he had experienced before, enjoying every little moan that left his mouth.

“You’re a fucking demon,” Chrollo said, laughing through the gasps, as your touch began to intensify again. “I can’t believe you’re enjoying this.”

You looked into his eyes as you sat on top of him, feeling his body react to your touch. “You’ve already enjoyed yourself too much, my love; now it’s my turn,” you said with a mischievous smile, feeling the anticipation build between the two of you.

Gently, you began to slide down his length, enjoying the sensation that filled you as you settled in. The mix of pleasure and power enveloped you, and a moan of satisfaction escaped your lips as you felt him completely inside you. It was a perfect moment, the balance between the desired and the forbidden.

Chrollo closed his eyes, his head thrown back as he enjoyed the feeling of you moving on top of him. “God… you’re amazing,” he murmured, but it wasn’t enough; you wanted more.

You began to move up and down, setting a steady rhythm that allowed you to enjoy every inch of him. The friction was intoxicating, and you felt his every movement sync with yours, creating an intimate dance between the two of you.

“Just like that…” you whispered, letting out a moan as your hips moved harder. Waves of pleasure coursed through your body, and you clung to his chest as you increased your speed. Chrollo looked at you with a mix of adoration and need, his dark eyes fixed on you.

“You’re perfect,” he said, his voice husky as he gave himself over completely to the pleasure you were giving him. Each of his moans urged you on, to lose yourself in the moment. “Don’t stop…”

With a soft laugh, you moved harder, taking advantage of his submission and enjoying the feeling of control. “I have no intention of doing so, love,” you replied, letting the pleasure take over you.

Your hips moved faster, the need for both of you reaching a climax that seemed inevitable. With one of your hands, you found your way to his throat, squeezing lightly. The way his eyes widened, surprised but pleased, made you smile.

“You like it like this, baby?” you asked in a soft voice, as the pressure increased, keeping him on the edge of euphoria. Chrollo nodded, unable to form words, his ragged breathing telling you everything you needed to know.

The mix of pleasure and control filled you with euphoria, and as your movements became more intense, you felt his body react to every caress. “You’re mine,” you said in a possessive tone, enjoying his submission.

Chrollo let out a deep moan, his hips thrusting up to meet you. “Give me more… please…” he begged, his eyes fixed on you, filled with desire. The way he gave himself to you, without reservation, only fueled your desire to make him feel better and better.

“You were good for me, so you deserve to cum,” you said with a playful smile, feeling his body respond to your words. The intensity of the connection between you increased as you moved with more fervor, enjoying every second of it.

“Thank you…” Chrollo murmured, his voice shaking as you held him a little tighter on your throat. You could feel the pressure building inside him, and his surrender filled you with pride.

“Focus on the pleasure,” you ordered softly, increasing the speed of your movements. “I want you to feel every part of me.” His moans became louder, echoing in the room and fueling your desire to take him to the edge.

As you moved, you could see his body tense, the anticipation on his face only intensifying what you felt. “You’re close already, aren’t you?” you asked, enjoying the control you had over him.

“Yes… I can’t… anymore…” Chrollo admitted, his hips thrusting back into you, seeking that long-awaited climax.

“Then let yourself go, love. I want you to give yourself over completely,” you said in a seductive tone, enjoying the way he gave in to you. One last thrust, and you felt his body shudder, his pleasure erupting in a wave of satisfaction as he came, flooding you with shared sensations.

You could feel the spurts staining your rubbery walls, an intense sensation that made you moan as the pleasure built up inside you. Every pulse of his body, every drop of his release, only fueled your own desire. You moved your hips a little more, chasing your own orgasm, enjoying the connection between your bodies.

“That’s it, baby,” you whispered, squeezing his throat a little more as your movements became more frantic. “Let me feel you, I want all this pleasure to belong to me.” His eyes closed, enjoying the mix of control and desire you shared.

Chrollo moaned, his breathy sounds filling the room as you continued your dance. “Don’t stop…” he managed to say, his voice a whisper filled with need. Each time you tightened your grip on his throat, you felt his body react, bringing you closer to that climax you so longed for.

With one last thrust, you increased the speed and intensity of your movements, feeling the pleasure build up in your abdomen. “I’m going to…” you barely managed to say, feeling the wave of pleasure wash over you as you finally gave in, reaching your own orgasm.

The explosion of sensations was overwhelming, a torrent of pleasure enveloping your being.

Chrollo broke the ropes with ease, taking your hips and letting you fall beneath him. His gaze lit up with a predatory smile that sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s my turn now, baby, and I don’t think you can handle it,” he said, his voice soft but laden with dark desire. “But you’ll be a good whore for daddy.”

A shiver of anticipation ran through your body as you felt his weight on you. The way he looked at you, as if you were his prey, fueled the spark of lust burning within you.

“You really think that?” you challenged, though deep down you knew the night was just beginning. Chrollo leaned into you, his breath hot against your skin. “Yes, I do. I know you too well.”

With a swift movement, he caught you with one hand on your wrist, holding you in place as his hips pressed against yours. The mix of control and desire made you feel alive, completely at his mercy.

“I’m going to make you scream, baby,” he promised, his dark eyes shining with the intensity of his desire. It surprised you, but a part of you rejoiced in the promise of what was to come.

[demensrage]

i for i want to see you with him ⚊ • . with alucard tepes

summary: he notices the way you look at his best friend, he can't hide how much it turns him on to see you so close to him. after talking about it, you decide to invite him to dinner, all that's left is to get him to agree to fuck you.

cw: established relationship, fem!reader, voyeurism, fingering, 69 position, doggy style, hair pulling, spanking, dom!trevor, hickeys, mating press, praise kink.

word count: 6.4k

© demensrage 2024. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

Alucard watched you as you adjusted your red silk dress, a garment that enhanced your soft curves like the waves caressing the shore. In that moment, he understood that the dress was made for you, a gift reflecting your unique beauty.

That night, dinner promised to be an important event, a tribute dedicated to you, his woman. It was a celebration of the pleasure he had drawn from your lips, an echo of the moans that used to escape your mouth in moments of shared ecstasy.

During the past two weeks, he had noticed how you licked your lips upon seeing him, how you sighed and blushed at the slightest accidental touch from Trevor. Every gesture of yours made him feel a mix of adoration and desire, more intense than the fear of losing you. Since you entered their lives, Alucard had always known that he wanted you for himself. Trevor, for his part, was fully aware that his interest in you was no deeper than what Alucard already felt.

He stepped aside, showing no sign of needing to claim the woman Alucard already considered his. Because that was what you were—his. It didn't bother you; your husband's way of loving was intense, like a destructive storm that swept everything in its path, leaving behind chaos that transformed into calm. That's how he made your heart feel while his body offered you the serenity that only comes after the storm.

However, it was hard to admit that you felt sexually attracted to his friend, someone your husband considered a brother, a part of his family. You felt ashamed, like a bad wife for harboring those feelings. Then, hiding that attraction became a heavy burden until, inevitably, the bomb exploded and your husband found out.

You were surprised to see that Alucard did not take the news poorly. In fact, while he was giving you pleasure that very morning, he urged you to think that it was not him who filled you with desire, but Trevor. Your beloved and adorable husband validated your feelings, choosing to be understanding and willing to offer you what your mind had been longing for.

The night was full of promises, where your darkest and most primal desires would be fulfilled by your husband, with the help of his friend. All that remained was to wait for that dinner to serve as a bridge to desire and acceptance from Trevor.

You descended the castle stairs, with your husband by your side, always by your side; never behind, never ahead, except in specific situations. You glanced at him, searching for a hint of regret on his face, wondering if you should take a step back at the possibility that your feelings might hurt him. “Adrian,” you whispered his name softly, intertwining your hands with his. “No…”

“Everything will be alright, dear,” he interrupted your words immediately. His eyes locked onto yours, and you saw nothing but love in them: no regret, no doubt. You could even sense a hint of desire. “I’m being indulgent with all of this too.” His words surprised you. You fell silent, any immediate response fading from your lips. You frowned, intrigued, and asked him, “What do you mean?”

“We will both be pleased tonight, my love,” he paused for a moment to caress your cheeks, holding your gaze. “You with Trevor, and I watching.” Then, his lips placed a sweet kiss on your forehead.

The sound of forks against plates filled the comfortable silence reigning at the table. For none of you was it strange to be there sharing; it was a regular part of your routine. However, Trevor couldn’t help but feel intrigued by the way his friend looked at him, as if he were about to hold back words that would have to come out sooner or later.

“The monsters have stayed away from Wallachia,” Trevor said, trying to break the silence. “So I’m thinking of moving to another town to keep hunting them.”

Both of them looked at him as if he had gone mad. There was no reason to leave, to keep putting his life in danger when Dracula was no longer among them. Concern reflected on their faces, a mix of disbelief and a desire to protect their friend from unnecessary dangers.

“You’ve lost your mind,” Alucard muttered, setting his food aside and looking at his friend with disapproval. “Do you even know what it means to rest?”

“I’ve rested enough. I’m not asking you to come with me,” huffed Trevor, cutting a piece of meat and bringing it to his mouth. “Hey, brother, you’re married, you have a beautiful family here, and there’s no reason to fight anymore. I have nothing tying me to one place.” “You have us,” you complained, feeling hurt by his condescending words. Despite his tone, you knew there was truth in what he said. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I’m not going to be the third wheel,” Trevor said bluntly, not measuring the impact of his words on you both.

You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat. You looked at your husband with pleading eyes, wishing he could change Trevor’s stubborn decision. You weren’t doing it out of selfishness, but because you knew Trevor was the most important pillar in Alucard’s life. The idea of Trevor leaving meant taking away an essential part of the man you loved, and you wanted your husband whole, not fragmented.

“I have a proposal for you,” Alucard murmured, picking up his fork again and resuming his meal. “You’re not obliged to accept, but it’s something important for us.”

“I know you want to tell me something since I arrived at the castle. Just say it already,” Trevor said, turning his gaze from his plate to the blond man.

“I want you to be with my wife.” Those words came from Alucard’s lips with surprising naturalness. “And I’m talking about in a sexual way.”

Your breath caught as you heard him. It was already said; there was no turning back. It confused you to know that he had used your desires to keep Trevor in this situation. “It’s just an idea, nothing formal or mandatory,” you whispered, diverting your gaze to anywhere but the man who was watching you so intently.

“Are you asking me to fuck your wife?” Trevor asked incredulously, letting out a raw, mocking laugh. “Come on, stop joking. You’re not going to buy my stay with sex, Alucard.”

But none of you said anything because it wasn’t a joke. Not for you, at least. It was a genuine request, an offer laden with palpable tension that made the air in the room feel thick.

Trevor’s laughter slowly faded as he looked at Alucard, his expression transforming into a mix of surprise and confusion. The gravity of the situation began to sink in. “Are you serious?” His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper, as if he feared that saying it out loud would make it more real.

“Of course I am,” Alucard replied, his gaze fixed on Trevor, his tone firm and resolute. “It’s not a transaction; it’s an opportunity. I want us all to be happy, and I know this could be what we need.”

Your heart raced in your chest, a mix of desire and anxiety coursing through your body. You knew this moment would change everything, that crossing this line could lead to a new level of intimacy, both between you and Trevor and between you and Alucard. It was a risk, but also a promise of pleasure and connection.

“This is… complicated,” you murmured, feeling every heavy word slide from your lips. “What if this pulls us apart instead of bringing us together?”

“That depends on how we handle it,” Alucard said, his gaze still intense. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to decide right now. I just want you to consider the possibility.”

Trevor looked at you, his eyes searching yours, trying to understand how you felt about it. “And you? What do you think of all this?”

You looked into his eyes, maintaining the connection between your gazes. A knot began to form in your stomach, but it wasn’t from annoyance; it was the anxiety of what might happen if he agreed. “It was my idea,” you whispered, feeling the words vibrate in the air.

Trevor’s expression changed, a mix of surprise and understanding illuminating his face. “Really?” The incredulity had faded, replaced by a glimmer of curiosity. “I didn’t think you wanted this.”

“It’s just that… I’ve felt drawn to the idea,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. The flush on your cheeks betrayed the intensity of your emotions, a mix of nerves and desire.

Trevor nodded slowly, weighing your words. His gaze turned thoughtful, as if he were evaluating the proposal in his mind. “Am I the best fit for this?” he asked, his tone more serious now.

You nodded, feeling vulnerable but determined. You didn’t want to confess that your feelings went beyond a simple idea, that there was something deeply attractive about the connection between the three of you. “We trust you,” you said firmly, searching for a way to convey all that this trust meant.

The atmosphere grew thick with the tension of what was at stake. Trevor, with his intense and curious gaze, seemed to contemplate not just the proposal, but also the possibility of a new kind of relationship. “I don’t want this to ruin what we already have,” he finally said, his voice low but clear.

You took his hand, feeling the warmth of his skin against your palm. “It won’t, I promise.” You looked at your husband, seeking his approval, knowing that he was in favor of exploring this new dimension of desire.

“It’s just sex; it doesn’t have to cause us problems,” you asserted, your voice firm despite the excitement bubbling within you. The idea of letting Trevor touch you, of experimenting with him under Alucard’s watchful gaze, ignited a spark of lust that you couldn’t ignore.

Trevor watched you with a mix of desire and challenge in his eyes, his breathing growing heavier as the tension among the three of you became palpable. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, his words filled with provocative curiosity.

“More than sure,” you replied, feeling the desire begin to take hold of you. “I want to explore this, and I think you do too.”

Alucard smiled, a look of approval lighting up his face. “Then there’s no reason to hesitate. Just let yourself go,” he said, his voice low and seductive, like an echo resonating in the darkest corner of your mind.

Alucard was seated in a perfectly placed armchair in the corner of the room, his presence almost ethereal yet powerful. He silently watched as Trevor eagerly grabbed your hips, pulling you onto his lap, straddling him. The sound of his breathing mixed with the wet smacking of his lips as he devoured your mouth with a voracious intensity. His tongue sought yours, a deep and lustful kiss fueled by the impatience of someone who had contained their desire for far too long.

There was no surprise in the fact that your husband wanted to watch. The signs had always been there. From the moment he carefully chose that armchair, saying it would look good in the corner, to the times he caught you in private moments, touching yourself, and instead of intervening, he would quietly sit back to watch, enjoying the show you offered without asking for permission.

Your thoughts blended with the pleasure. Trevor wasn’t gentle, but he wasn’t brutal either; he was pure desire. His mouth descended along your neck, leaving wet, red marks while his firm hands roamed over you, gripping your waist with need.

“That’s right... let go,” Alucard’s voice cut through the silence, soft but loaded with intention. It wasn’t a command but an invitation to let go of any thought, to completely immerse yourself in the lust that ruled the night.

A moan escaped your lips as Trevor squeezed the flesh of your ass with a possessive force, his fingers leaving marks with clear intent. Your hands clung to his shirt, gripping it desperately as you gave yourself over completely to the whirlwind of pleasure consuming you.

Trevor pulled his lips away from yours, leaving a trail of short, wet kisses down your neck. Each touch of his mouth on your skin sent waves of heat throughout your body. In a swift movement, he yanked down your dress, exposing your breasts. His lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking hard as his tongue caressed it hungrily. You could feel the heat of his breath, the wet glide of his tongue contrasting with the cool air of the room, making your nipples harden even more.

His free hand didn’t remain idle. He grasped your other breast, pinching and pulling at your nipple with a mix of firmness and pleasure, making you moan louder, your body responding without restraint. You arched into him, craving more, needing more, as your breath came in short gasps. Trevor knew exactly how to touch you, how to make your body beg for what your mind could barely process.

From the armchair, Alucard watched in silence, his gaze fixed on every movement, every sound you made. His eyes gleamed with dark desire, completely focused on the scene before him. Each of your moans, every gasp, only fueled the fire burning inside him.

The feeling of your wet panties clinging to your skin was almost unbearable, each brush against your sensitive folds intensifying the heat building inside you. Alucard’s steady gaze from the corner only fanned the flames of your desire, making you tremble with anticipation. You knew he wasn’t there to intervene but to watch and enjoy the show that both he and you had craved.

Your fingers tangled in Trevor’s brown hair, tugging as you pushed him closer to your chest, desperately seeking more contact, more pressure, more of everything. You could feel his lips, his tongue, working on you with a precision that left you on the edge. Every suck, every gentle bite on your nipple sent sparks of pleasure through your body, causing your back to arch involuntarily.

You let your head fall back, a deep moan escaping your lips as you surrendered completely to the sensation. Trevor’s hands never stopped roaming over your skin, as if he knew exactly where to touch, where to press to elicit those sounds he loved so much. The room was thick with tension, with that primal desire that enveloped all three of you, and Alucard’s gaze remained there, persistent, never looking away for a second from what was happening between you and his friend.

The sound of your ragged breathing filled the air, growing louder, more desperate, as you instinctively moved on Trevor's lap, seeking relief for the need that was spiraling out of control inside you.

Trevor effortlessly lifted you, his strong hands gripping your backside as he turned you to lay you down on the bed. The air filled with the tearing sound of fabric as your dress ripped apart, revealing your skin under the soft light of the room. His gaze traced every inch of your body with an intensity that made you burn inside.

His large, rough hands settled on your knees, slowly spreading your legs apart. The evident wetness between your thighs immediately caught his attention, and an arrogant smile appeared on his lips. There was no room for inhibitions, not that night.

Calmly, Trevor slid his palms up the insides of your thighs, provoking a slight shiver in your body. Gradually, his hands reached your hips, taking hold of the edge of your soaked panties and pulling them down in a slow motion, enjoying every second as he dragged them down your legs until they were completely gone. You let out a sigh heavy with anticipation, feeling the cool breeze caress your bare skin. Alucard's unwavering gaze was still on you, fueling your desire while Trevor watched you as if you were his only priority.

Trevor's breath became heavier as his palm settled firmly on your center, pressing your clit with just the right amount of pressure to make your back arch. You felt a wave of heat sweep through your body as your legs trembled slightly under his touch. He slid two of his fingers through your folds to gently part you, revealing everything he wanted to see, never stopping to observe every little reaction he elicited from you.

His dark, desire-laden eyes never left your core, devouring you with his gaze, relishing the effect he had on you. You bit your lower lip, trying to stifle your moans, but the fire inside you grew out of control.

Unable to help yourself, your hands found their way to your breasts, squeezing them tightly to relieve the sharp pang of need building within them. Your fingers pinched your nipples, seeking the relief that Trevor wasn’t yet giving you, while he watched you as if every moan and every shiver were a reward he couldn't let pass.

"Three fingers and she's happy," Alucard murmured, his deep tone heavy with desire, as his eyes followed every one of your movements. The sound of his husky voice cut through the air thick with lust, sending a shiver down your spine. You saw him from the corner of the room, settled in the armchair like a privileged spectator of your indulgence, his hand stroking his erection with a mix of patience and need.

Trevor smiled at his friend's words, sliding his fingers to your entrance, teasing you with an almost torturous gentleness. "Let's find out," he murmured playfully, his eyes fixed on yours, enjoying the control he had over your body. With exasperating slowness, he pushed the first finger inside you, feeling how your walls adjusted around him, so wet and willing. He didn’t wait long before inserting a second finger, stretching you gently as his movements intensified.

Your moans filled the room, mingling with Alucard's soft gasps, who watched your every reaction as if it were an intimate study of your deepest pleasures. "Always so willing," Trevor murmured, his eyes blazing with desire as he added a third finger, just as Alucard had suggested. The sensation was intense, each of his movements causing your body to arch against the bed, your hands still toying with your breasts as the pleasure surged in uncontrollable waves.

The pressure inside you was building, and your breathing was becoming more and more ragged, your moans ragged filling the air. You knew you were close, your hips pushing against Trevor’s fingers, seeking more, needing more. Alucard didn’t look away, his breathing heavy as he stroked his erection, enjoying the show you both gave him.

Deliberately, you dropped your legs onto the bed, feeling more exposed, more vulnerable. Need burned in you, a lust that drove you to move, to invite him to go deeper, faster. Your body craved his touch, and the pressure in your belly intensified with each passing second.

“She doesn’t want subtlety,” Alucard commented, his voice low and seductive as he stared intently. “Don’t be delicate, Trevor. She likes it rough and fast.” His instructions were firm, almost like a command, and you knew Trevor would take them seriously. The smile that spread across his face confirmed that he appreciated this freedom to explore what excited you the most.

With a slight movement of your hips, you encouraged him to continue, wanting his fingers to be more daring. And he was quick to respond. Trevor increased the pace, sinking his fingers harder, pushing you to the edge of ecstasy. The pressure inside you intensified, and each thrust of his fingers made your moans become more intense, more desperate.

Alucard settled himself better in his chair, watching intently as Trevor began to lose himself in your body. His friend's instructions became a wild dance, and soon, the sounds of your gasps mixed with the vibrant tension that filled the room. "That's it, like that, faster," Alucard encouraged, his gaze fixed on your expression of pleasure, enjoying the show.

Trevor let himself go, immersing himself in the mix of lust and desire, his fingers moving with fervor, each thrust causing your body to react with increasingly intense waves of pleasure.

His fingers slid in with ease, the wetness that soaked your pussy making every movement easier. It was like they were made to fit you, to explore every corner of your desire. You couldn’t help but move, your body responding to the stimulation, every thrust bringing you closer to the edge. Your moans escaped your lips, uncontrollable, a symphony of pleasure filling the room.

Trevor intensified his pace, his fingers finding that sensitive spot that made you shudder. Every touch was a cry of ecstasy, and you couldn’t stop your hips from arching into him, seeking more, asking for more. The combination of his attention and Alucard’s voice, echoing in your mind, only increased the lust you felt.

“That’s it, that’s how he likes it,” Alucard said, his voice thick with desire as he watched you, aroused by the way Trevor made you feel. His words were a reminder of your complete surrender to the situation, and the thought of being the center of his attention made you feel even more alive.

The need intensified, a burning fire taking over you completely. “Don’t stop,” you pleaded with Trevor, and the intensity in your eyes told him everything he needed to know.

Trevor’s pace increased, his fingers thrusting in and out of you with such precision that your body simply couldn’t take it anymore. The tension you had been building up was released in an overwhelming surge of pleasure. Your moans transformed into cries of ecstasy, and before you could process it, your body tensed as you reached a climax so intense that everything in you shook uncontrollably.

Your legs, unable to bear the onslaught of sensations, clenched tightly around his hand, trying to contain the pleasure that shook you from head to toe. The sensation was so powerful that you could barely breathe, your chest rising and falling erratically as the orgasm swept through every corner of your being.

Trevor, with a cocky grin, kept looking at you, satisfied that he had taken you to the edge. "Wow, I think someone liked it," he murmured, his fingers still inside you, enjoying the feeling of your body trembling around him.

"I want to taste you." you said shamelessly. Just imagining it made your mouth water.

The boldness of your words made a cocky grin appear on Trevor's lips, his gaze darkening as he caught the lust you emanated. You looked down shamelessly at the obvious tent forming between his pants, imagining what awaited you. You were already biting your lip in anticipation, knowing that soon you would have him in your mouth, hard and heavy, just like you had fantasized.

“The same can be said for you,” Trevor replied, his tone heavy with desire as his hands traced a slow path up your still trembling thighs, coming dangerously close to your soaked core. The thought of him devouring you only increased the pressure between your legs, making you vibrate with anticipation.

Your eyes met his, the room charged with palpable tension, the sound of your heavy breathing filling the space. You licked your lips again, wanting to taste him on your tongue, ready for everything he was willing to give you.

Trevor positioned you without a word, his firm hands guiding you as he positioned himself beneath you. You knew what was coming, you had imagined it before. You felt the anticipation build in your belly as he took his position.

You leaned over him, placing your lips over the head of his cock, savoring the first contact, as he slid between your legs, his mouth finding your core without delay. The heat of his tongue caressing your already sensitive clit drew a moan from you, which was muffled as you began to take more of him into your mouth.

Eye contact with Alucard intensified the heat inside you. Seeing your husband with his jaw set and his hands moving rhythmically over his own erection sent a wave of pleasure even deeper through you. The moan that escaped your throat vibrated around Trevor's cock, who growled in pleasure in response, sinking his tongue even deeper into you.

Trevor continued with his tongue and lips working in perfect sync, as you rocked on top of him, giving yourself over to the pleasure both men were giving you. The increasing pressure in your body brought you to the edge of a second orgasm, feeling the tremors running through your thighs and abdomen.

When Trevor felt your mouth pull away, he didn’t hesitate to deliver a hard spank, the sound echoing through the room. “Keep sucking,” he ordered in a husky, authoritative voice. The surprise of the slap and the tone of his voice sent a shiver down your spine. You obeyed immediately, taking his cock back into your mouth, your lips enveloping him as your hands worked on what you couldn’t grasp. Your moans mingled with the wet sound of each suck, the taste of him filling your senses as you sank into the rhythm he set.

Trevor gave you no respite, his hands gripping your hips as he forced you to keep up the back and forth motion against his tongue, squeezing your ass with a mix of possession and devotion. The heat between your legs was unbearable, the pressure of his tongue, his lips, and the little bites on your clit brought you to the edge of the abyss again and again, without rest. The control he exerted over you, the way he physically manipulated you made you feel like a toy in his hands, and you couldn't help but want more.

You felt your body tense, how every fiber of your being responded to the stimuli he gave you. You couldn't help but tremble, your skin bristling and sweat covering every inch of you. Alucard watched from his privileged position, his eyes devouring you as his hand moved firmly over his own erection. The sight of your body surrendered to pleasure, given over to the hands of another man, excited him more than he could have imagined. But he wasn't jealous, on the contrary, there was something about sharing you that excited him even more.

The pace in your mouth intensified, becoming more frantic as Trevor pushed you to the edge. The taste of him on your tongue mixed with the pleasure he was giving you, and the lewd sound of his tongue working against you grew louder. You could feel every part of your body trembling under his dominance, completely exposed, completely vulnerable. You knew there was no turning back. He was in control, and you relished it.

Trevor, sensing your growing arousal, increased the intensity of his movements, his tongue caressing every corner of you as his mouth clamped down hard on your clit. Your moans, which had once been controlled, were now uncontrollable. You couldn’t hold back the sounds escaping your throat, the screams of pleasure filling the room. You fell apart under his touch, the pleasure unbridled, wild.

The orgasm hit you overwhelmingly, stealing your breath away. Your legs clamped down around Trevor’s face, as if to keep him there, buried in your wetness as he continued to eagerly devour you. A deep moan escaped your lips, and you felt completely consumed by the pleasure. Every fiber of your being shuddered, the world narrowing to the intensity of the moment.

Throughout the haze of your climax, you saw Alucard slowly rise from the chair. The need in his eyes was palpable, his pupils dilated with the lust he felt at seeing you surrendered in such a way. He approached you with a determined step, the heat of his gaze traveling over every inch of your body. Without a word, he grabbed you by the hair, the feeling of his firm fingers tangling in your mane making you shudder in anticipation.

Alucard caressed your lips with the tip of his cock, tracing a wet, teasing path as he waited patiently for you to open your mouth for him. There was no need for words, you knew what he wanted. Your breathing was ragged, still recovering from your orgasm, but you didn’t hesitate to comply with his wishes. You slowly parted your lips, letting him know you were ready to receive him.

Wasting no more time, Alucard gently pushed his cock between your lips, filling your mouth. The taste of him invaded your senses as you adjusted to his size, your hands instinctively moving to his thighs, clinging to him as you began to suck him hungrily. Alucard let out a deep growl, tilting his head back, enjoying the warmth of your mouth and the way you took him.

Trevor, still between your legs, hadn’t stopped moving, his tongue playing with your sensitive folds, making you shudder with each precise lick. The pleasure was an endless cycle, and being trapped between both men, each one pushing you to the edge of your limits, made you feel like your body was incapable of handling so much at once.

The way you gave yourself to Alucard, the way he controlled you by your hair, moving you to the rhythm he desired, turned you on even more. Every time you felt the weight of him on your tongue, it reminded you of how deeply connected you were at that moment.

A husky moan escaped Trevor’s lips as you teased the tip, feeling it spill over your hand, soaking your fingers with his release. The warmth of his seed spread across your skin, and with each gasp from him, you knew you had done exactly what he needed.

Alucard, without stopping his movement, looked at you intensely. That dark, piercing look he always gave you when he was about to come made you shudder. His hands still firmly gripped in your hair kept him in command, controlling every second of your interaction.

“Swallow it all,” he murmured, his voice deep and thick with desire. It was the only instruction he gave you before he gave the final thrust, deep and final, as his release filled your mouth with its bitter taste. The weight of the command, coupled with the feeling of having him this vulnerable, made you comply without hesitation, swallowing everything he offered you as he trembled in pleasure.

Trevor tugged at your hair firmly, forcing your head up slightly as his hips slammed into you. The sound of his balls slapping against you echoed through the room, the rhythmic squelching so delicious it almost made you lose your breath. Each hit was a mix of pleasure and pain, a reminder of how desperate you were for his body.

With a muffled moan, you dropped your chest back against the bed, feeling the new position amplify each thrust. Each thrust of his pelvis hit right in that spot that drives you crazy, and you couldn’t help but whimper in pleasure, letting out sounds of need as he continued to thrust eagerly.

“That’s it, my little bitch,” Trevor murmured between gasps, his voice heavy with lust and satisfaction. His tone, authoritative and teasing, only intensified the feeling of being his at that moment. You felt completely overwhelmed, caught between pleasure and desire.

“Yes! “Right there… don’t stop!” you whimpered, unable to contain yourself. Each thrust made you lose yourself further in the mix of sensations. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, and though you whimpered at the intensity, each cry of pleading only goaded him on to go deeper, to take you over the edge.

The spasms in your body intensified, and with each thrust, the line between pleasure and pain blurred, leaving only the pure need of his body. Trevor, enjoying your response, leaned forward, tightening his grip on your hair and increasing the pressure on your ass, taking you to new heights of desperation.

“You’re perfect like this,” he whispered, his voice an echo of power that reverberated through you. “I need you, like this… overflowing and pleading.” His pace became more frantic, each thrust hitting harder, as if each cry of yours gave him more energy.

You gripped the edge of the bed tightly, your nails digging into the fabric as your eyes, crystallized by tears of pleasure, seemed to clear only to connect with your husband’s intense gaze. His presence, his desire, was the fire that fueled the overflowing lust you felt.

“Spread your legs wider, you’ll see how she becomes a cute little slut for you,” Alucard murmured, his voice soft but charged with palpable desire, keeping his gaze fixed on you as if you were the only object of his interest in the world.

Hearing his words, a wave of submission ran through you, and you obeyed instinctively, spreading your legs wider and offering your body to Trevor. When he adjusted to the new angle, a mix of pleasure and pain ran down your spine, making you lose any semblance of reason. You were a mess, caught in a maelstrom of sensations.

“Give me more… faster!” You babbled, feeling each thrust fill you deeper and deeper. There was no room for thought; there was only desire, driving him at a frenetic pace. His thrusts became a symphony of pleasure, and your moans were a melody that echoed through the room.

Trevor kept pounding away at you, each thrust a shock of pleasure that resonated through your body, filling you with a euphoria that made you lose track of time. The bed creaked under the weight of his movements, and the sound of his skin slapping against yours created a lascivious melody that fueled your desire even more.

Your eyes narrowed as you moaned, each thrust making the pleasure intensify until it became almost overwhelming. “Yes, like that, don’t stop,” you managed to articulate between gasps, gritting your teeth as you let yourself go with the flow of sensations.

Each stroke took him deeper, reaching that point that made your body shake involuntarily. With each thrust, your senses sharpened, and the line between pleasure and pain blurred. “You’re incredible,” you whispered to him, a muffled cry spilling from your lips when he found the perfect angle.

“That’s it, cutie,” Trevor replied, his voice thick with desire. “I love the way you feel… the way you make me feel.” His words were like a spell, further igniting the spark that burned between you.

From the corner of the room, Alucard watched you, his gaze fixed on the unbridled scene. “Don’t stop, keep going like that,” he urged, a sly smile curving his lips as the atmosphere filled with lust. The mix of their gazes enveloped you in a bubble of pleasure, each with their own wants and needs.

Sensations were overflowing and a knot formed in your belly, a hint that climax was near. “I’m going to… I’m going to…” you could barely mumble, feeling your muscles tense, ready for the release to come. Each thrust from Trevor brought you closer to that climax, and there was no turning back. “Yes, please, don’t stop!” you cried out, completely given over to the lust of the moment.

“Spit and rub it,” Alucard ordered, his voice ringing with an authority that made you feel both pride and arousal. The connection between him and Trevor was palpable, and every instruction he gave only intensified the passion of the scene. Even though Trevor was the one pleasuring you at the moment, you knew you were still Alucard’s woman, and that filled you with a sense of power.

Your lips parted, and with a mix of desire and obedience, you spit on your hand before rubbing your core, bringing your fingers to your clit, feeling the heat of the action increase. Alucard’s gaze intensified, as if he was evaluating your every move, enjoying the show you were creating for him. “That’s it, that’s it. Do it faster,” he whispered, his tone full of approval.

Trevor, sensing the energy of the room, increased his pace. Each thrust was deeper, more intense, and his hand moving between your legs only added to the frenzy of the moment. “Watch her become a good girl,” Alucard murmured, his satisfied smirk telling you he was enjoying every second of the experience.

The climax was approaching, and the tension in your body was reaching a crescendo. Each thrust from Trevor felt more intense, his pace becoming frantic as the pleasure washed over you. Moans escaped your lips uncontrollably, mixing with the cries of pleasure Trevor emitted as he felt your body against his.

When you finally reached orgasm, it was as if a torrent of energy erupted within you. Your body convulsed, muscles tensing, and a gasp of pleasure escaped your throat. Trevor, sensing your release, let himself go as well, his own climax reaching him with force as he thrust deep into you.

The two of you stood frozen in that moment of ecstasy, sweat covering your skin as the pleasure overflowed. Trevor looked into your eyes, a mix of amazement and satisfaction on his face. Alucard, from his spot, smiled proudly, watching as you both gave yourself over to the moment, indulging your desires and enjoying the connection you shared.

“That was incredible,” you murmured, trying to catch your breath as the ecstasy began to fade, leaving a trail of satisfaction on your skin. Trevor, still shaking, leaned forward to kiss you softly, as if each touch was a promise of more moments like that.

“You did very well,” he whispered in your ear, gently caressing your locks, his voice heavy with satisfaction and desire. That simple phrase sent a shiver through your body, a reminder that, despite the pleasure shared with Trevor, there was another who wanted your attention as well.

[demensrage]

h for hate me until i fuck you ⚊ • . with Ubbe Lothbrok

summary: after marrying a pagan to ensure peace between your kingdom and the norse, all you feel for your husband is revulsion. he knows it's only a matter of time before you'll be begging him to fuck you every waking moment.

word count: 6.9k

cw: arranged marriage, established relationship, oral (f. receiving), doggy style, hair pulling, spanking.

© demensrage 2024. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

The cold breeze of Kattegat hit your face as you stepped off the ship, and although the landscape was majestic, with imposing mountains and the endless sea behind you, the feeling of relief at having touched solid ground didn’t last long. Your legs still trembled from the discomfort of the journey, but you weren’t going to show weakness, especially not in front of Ubbe. When you saw him extend his hand, you decided to ignore him completely, lifting the hem of your dress to descend on your own, albeit clumsily. After all, pride was something you refused to sacrifice.

Ubbe watched you jump onto the bridge, his expression remaining impassive, but his words were like a sharp arrow:

"You won't last long in this place with that attitude," he said as he walked with firm steps, not bothering to turn and look at you. He didn’t seem worried about you, as if he knew that sooner or later you would have to adapt to his world or be trapped in it.

You felt anger rise in your chest. How dare he speak to you that way? It was true that you were in his land now, but you were no intruder. This was your destiny too, even if it weighed on you. Ubbe moved forward without waiting for you, leaving you behind without a care, as if you were just another face in the crowd. Curious children approached, touching the fabric of your dress, tugging it gently with dirty fingers, while the inquisitive gazes of the men and women followed you. You knew they were looking at you as if you were a stranger, an object of curiosity.

With a frustrated sigh, you quickened your pace, trying to keep up with Ubbe while the sound of your shoes echoed on the wooden planks of the bridge. Your short legs felt like yet another hindrance at that moment, as you tried not to trip over the stones in the path. Of course, as if it weren’t enough that he was so gigantic and arrogant, now you had to deal with how ridiculously slow you felt beside him.

"Wait!" you shouted desperately, hating that he saw you in such a vulnerable position, trotting after him. The words came out almost like a command, but deep down, you knew you were in no position to demand anything from him.

Ubbe, hearing your voice, paused for a moment without turning around, as if deciding whether it was worth waiting for you or just continuing on. The silence became heavy in the air while the bustle of the people around you continued, but in that instant, all you cared about was reaching your husband, that "giant fool" who had dragged you into this new world.

Finally, when you were just a few steps away from him, Ubbe turned, his eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and something else, something that made you feel uncomfortable. It wasn’t mockery, but it wasn’t sympathy either. It was as if he were testing you, waiting to see how far you would go to maintain your dignity in this foreign place.

"What’s the matter?" he asked in that deep, firm voice, but his words contained a hint of challenge. "Did you finally decide to follow me?" Your frustration only grew upon hearing him. You didn’t want to follow him, but you couldn’t stay behind either, in the middle of a village you didn’t know, surrounded by people who seemed like strangers.

Ubbe remained silent for a moment, observing you with that piercing gaze that seemed to scrutinize your very soul. You weren’t used to a man ignoring you in that way, but there he was, as if your words had no weight. Despite the anger you felt, you tried to maintain your composure, raising your face to look him directly in the eyes. "You’re an idiot, do you think you can just abandon me like this?" you exclaimed with frustration, trying to keep your voice from trembling.

You had endured enough: the journey, the curious glances, the strange land… the least you expected was a little decency from him. "I don’t know anyone in this place; at least have the kindness to show me where I’m going to rest," you added sternly, even though you knew you were at his mercy at that moment.

For a moment, you thought he would continue walking, completely ignoring your plea. But finally, his lips twisted into a slight smile, one that irritated you deeply, as he seemed to revel in your discomfort.

He stepped a little closer, reducing the distance between you, until you felt the heat of his body radiate toward you. It wasn’t a comforting proximity, but rather a challenging one.

"Abandon you?" he repeated, as if the word amused him. "It’s not my intention, but you should learn quickly, woman. Here, you won’t be treated like a fragile flower. If you want to survive, you must learn to defend yourself." His eyes darkened slightly as he examined you, his tone grave and firm. "But," he added, softening his expression slightly, "you’re my wife, and although I don’t like your manners, I’ll show you where you’ll rest tonight."

With that, he turned on his heel and began to walk again, but this time at a slower pace, waiting for you to follow closely. Even though you were still angry, you knew you had no other choice. This was your new home, whether you liked it or not, and for now, he was your only guide in this unfamiliar world.

"I don’t think you know anything about manners," you said firmly, not backing down despite the growing tension between you. As you tried to sidestep a puddle, lifting your hem to avoid getting it dirty, you felt the impulse to throw him another challenge. It was as if you could never silence yourself when you were with him. "You know, I hope your home has enough space so that I don’t have to sleep in the same room as you," you added with a touch of sarcasm, not really knowing how he would react.

Ubbe let out a low laugh, but it wasn’t a laugh of joy; rather, it seemed to stem from a dark satisfaction that you didn’t quite understand. He took a step toward you, closing the distance again, his boots sinking slightly into the mud. It was as if the very earth leaned before his step. His eyes locked onto yours, intense and fiery, and although you stood your ground, you could feel the heat rising in your neck from his closeness.

“Modals?” he murmured with a mocking smile as he tilted his head, almost as if challenging you to repeat it. “I assure you I know much more about manners than you think, but perhaps you’d like to learn them... my way.” His voice was low and threatening, and for a moment, you wondered if you had underestimated the kind of man he was.

He leaned a little closer to you, his eyes shining with a mix of desire and authority. “As for sleeping in the same room…” he said in a softer, though no less dangerous, tone, “you are my wife, and my wife will sleep in my bed.” He paused, his lips brushing against the promise of something darker. “If you don’t like the idea, you’ll learn to live with it.”

The air between you was thick, and although you wanted to respond, you found yourself momentarily speechless. The battle of wills continued, but you were beginning to realize that Ubbe enjoyed your challenge as much as you did throwing it. And though you didn’t want to admit it, there was something about him, in his intensity, that made your heart race faster than you would have liked.

“I have a right to privacy, husband,” you said, emphasizing the last word with a tone that made it clear how little you liked using it.

Ubbe took another step toward you, closing the distance almost until his boots brushed against the edge of your skirt. He lowered his gaze, examining you from head to toe with a calculated slowness, as if weighing the weight of your words. Then, his eyes met yours again, intense and challenging. The tension was palpable in the air, and although your heart raced, you refused to let him see any sign of weakness.

“Privacy…” Ubbe repeated, his voice deep and laden with intention. “In Kattegat, there’s no place for privacy between husbands and wives.” His gaze was a reminder of the life that awaited you with him: a shared life, without the luxuries or comforts you might have been accustomed to. “But if you’re worried about sleeping with me… I assure you that, when the time comes, you won’t want to be anywhere else.”

His tone was dark, heavy with unspoken promises, and although your instincts screamed at you to challenge him again, there was something in the firmness of his statement that left you momentarily speechless. It was clear that Ubbe not only desired you as a wife out of obligation; there was an intensity in him that made it clear he wanted you completely, and he wouldn’t settle for less.

You pressed your lips together, trying to maintain your composure as he slowly backed away, giving you the space you had claimed. But as you watched him walk toward the large house that was surely his home, you knew that this was just a small victory, and the real battles were yet to be fought.

Ubbe leaned in toward you, his face dangerously close to yours, and you felt his warm breath against your skin as his words fell like a challenge you couldn’t ignore.

“And not just that,” he said in a low, provocative tone, his gaze locked on yours, “you’re going to ask me to fuck you over and over again without stopping.”

Your eyes narrowed immediately, contempt spilling from your lips before you could contain yourself. “There’s no denying you’re a pagan,” you spat, each word laced with disdain, trying to hide the heat his words ignited in your skin. You hated him for being so arrogant, for believing he had control over you, for knowing exactly how to hit the nerve that made you react.

Ubbe laughed, a deep and almost pleased sound that only infuriated you further. His face showed no shame or remorse, only an unshakeable certainty. It was as if he had already won, as if it didn’t matter how much you fought against him.

“This pagan,” he murmured, with a dangerous smile that barely disguised the lust in his eyes, “will fuck you like no other, wife.”

The weight of his words fell upon you with a mix of rage and tension. Though you didn’t want to admit it, you felt the provocation in the air between you, and that sensation twisted inside you. You didn’t want to give in, but you couldn’t help but notice how palpable the attraction was between you, even through the hatred you felt.

As you arrived in front of what would be your new home, your eyes settled on the old wooden house, its planks worn by time and the elements. It was a place that spoke of past stories, of generations that had lived and struggled within. Before you could make a comment, Ubbe pushed the door open and, with an authoritative gesture, stepped inside.

You decided to follow him, knowing that staying outside would be a weakness you couldn’t afford. The door closed behind you with a dull thud, isolating you from the chilly air that reigned outside.

Once inside, you were surprised by the height of the doorframe and how large the ceiling was, rising as if it wanted to touch the clouds. Everything was designed for people like him: tall and imposing. You felt tiny and, in some way, exposed in this place that wasn’t your home.

Despite the lack of luxuries you were used to, there was something about this house that felt cozy. The smell of aged wood and the soft murmur of the wind through the cracks wrapped around you like a blanket. Inside, the cold from outside gradually faded, leaving an unexpected warmth that made you feel safe, at least temporarily.

As your eyes adjusted to the dim light, you began to explore the corners of the room. The walls were decorated with hunting trophies and mementos of past battles, each one a testament to the man who lived here. However, there was also a crackling fire in the fireplace that illuminated the space and offered a warm and comforting atmosphere.

Ubbe moved with an innate confidence, ignoring the admiration that might have been reflected on your face. “Welcome home,” he said with a tone that hinted at his satisfaction at seeing you there, even if he couldn’t hide the spark of arrogance that always accompanied him.

You turned to him, feeling the mix of emotions battling within you. “Is this really your home?” you asked, trying to keep disdain in your voice, though there was a hint of curiosity you couldn’t suppress.

“I’m sorry I didn’t meet your expectations, wife,” Ubbe said, his tone laced with sarcasm. It was evident that he enjoyed your disbelief at the place, and his mocking smile only intensified your frustration.

You remained silent, trying to bite your tongue at his attitude, but he didn’t wait for your response. “Come, I’ll show you our chambers. Your things will be brought in a moment, so make yourself comfortable.”

You turned to him, the discomfort rising in your chest. Comfort? It was a strange concept in a place you didn’t feel was your home. Ubbe walked down the hallway, and you followed him, each step echoing on the wooden floor. The house had a rustic air, with exposed log walls, and as you moved forward, you noticed the small details: the shine of the axe hanging on the wall, the fur coat draped over a hook, the sturdy furniture that seemed to have been hand-carved.

“This is our bedroom,” Ubbe said, opening a door that led to a more private space. The room was spacious, with a large bed in the center, covered with furs that promised warmth. A large window let in daylight, and the air smelled of firewood and something you couldn’t identify, but that made you feel a bit more at ease.

As you looked around, you realized that despite its austerity, there was a certain charm to the room. Ubbe observed your reaction, his expression almost unreadable. “I hope you like it,” he said, with a hint of sincerity in his voice.

You turned to him, trying not to show your surprise. “It’s... different,” you managed to reply, aware that your words didn’t fully capture how you felt. But at least it was a start.

“Rest,” Ubbe said, his voice firmly authoritative as he watched you. “If you need me, I’ll be in the large house across the way. Don’t talk to strangers.”

His words resonated in your ears, a reminder of the unspoken rules that seemed implicit in this new home. It was clear that his desire to protect you went hand in hand with a desire to control the situation. He looked at you for a moment longer, as if assessing your reaction, before turning and leaving, leaving the door ajar.

However, his warnings echoed in your mind. Don’t talk to strangers. It was valid advice, especially in a place where you didn’t know anyone and where every gaze could be an examination.

As you thought about everything you had left behind and what awaited you, you lay back on the bed, letting fatigue wash over you. Though your mind remained tangled in thoughts and emotions, the murmur of the wind outside and the creaking of the wood gradually lulled you into a state of calm.

In those three months, you had adapted to many of the peculiarities of life in Kattegat, and one of the most notable was the pagans' custom of celebrating for no apparent reason. It was a strange concept for you, having grown up in an environment where festivities were meticulously planned and full of meaning. But here, joy seemed to spring from nowhere, and today was one of those days when people would gather to celebrate just because.

The afternoon light filtered through the window, illuminating your face as you arranged your hair. As you braided your strands, your mind wandered, caught up in thoughts about how your body had quickly grown accustomed to the heat of Ubbe's body. You remembered the mornings when you would wake up wrapped in his arms, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, the security it provided.

Despite the differences and frictions between you, there was something deeply intimate about that closeness. You had learned to appreciate the moments when you shared a bed, where the tensions of everyday life seemed to fade away. Sometimes his laughter echoed in the room, and at other times, you found yourselves in comfortable silences that spoke more than a thousand words.

But in the midst of that warm moment, a spark of rebellion coursed through you. You remembered that you hated him, that there were moments when his arrogance and the way he imposed his will made you boil with rage. You pretended to ignore it, convinced that you couldn't allow yourself to feel what was really happening inside you.

You forced yourself to remember the times his disparaging remarks had infuriated you, how his dominant nature had led you to question your own worth. He was a giant in every sense, and you were just a woman trapped in his world. Though he ensnared you with his smile and strength, hatred was a comfortable refuge you refused to leave behind.

“Are you okay?” Ubbe asked, noticing the change in your expression. “Yes,” you replied with disdainful brusqueness, crossing your arms over your chest. “I'm just thinking about what awaits me at that celebration. I hope you don't have too high expectations.”

Ubbe raised an eyebrow, amused by your attitude. “Do you think I care what others think? I'm here for you, not for them.”

His words were a direct hit. The sincerity in his voice disarmed your defenses, and you found yourself on the verge of succumbing to that connection you had tried to avoid. But what annoyed you most was that deep down, you knew you couldn’t keep ignoring how his presence had begun to affect you.

“Stop pretending you hate me once and for all,” Ubbe said, his tone firm but not lacking a hint of laughter. “I know you don't, or did you forget what happened the other night?”

Ubbe's words hit you like lightning. The memory of that night surged over you, intensifying the confusion in your chest. You would never forget how he had trapped you against his strong chest, his lips finding yours with a lust that had left you breathless.

“Shut up,” you murmured, embarrassed, trying to look away. The memory of his firm hands on your waist, his warm breath against your skin burned in your mind. The way he had devoured every part of you, as if you were the only thing he desired in the world, made you feel vulnerable in a way you were unwilling to accept.

“You can't ignore what we feel, no matter how hard you try,” he insisted, taking a step closer, enough for you to feel his warmth. “What happened between us was real. And you know it.”

The beat of your heart echoed in your ears. You had tried to convince yourself that that night had been a mistake, a moment of weakness where you let desire overtake your judgment. But now, standing in front of him, you knew it wasn't that simple.

“That doesn’t mean you should act like you’re a god in this place, Ubbe,” you retorted, though the anger in your voice faded as you recalled his touch. “Just because there’s desire doesn’t mean there should be a connection. I’m here out of duty, not love.”

Ubbe chuckled softly, a deep laugh that reverberated in the air. “Sometimes, duty and love go hand in hand. But you refuse to see beyond your own limitations. You like to play the rebel, but you can't fool me. I know you want this as much as I do.”

The air between you thickened, and your defenses began to weaken. Deep down, you knew there was truth in his words. You had found yourself desiring him, despite your attempts to resist.

You felt his warm lips against your neck, and a shiver ran through your body, unleashing a storm of emotions you had tried to suppress. The brush of his breath against your skin made you momentarily forget the world around you.

“See? You can't deny what you feel,” Ubbe whispered, his deep voice resonating like an echo amidst the crowd of the party. Every word, every brush of his lips felt like an invitation to surrender, to let go of the reservations you had held so firmly.

You bit your lip, struggling against the wave of desire building within you. “This isn't a game, Ubbe. You can't just come close and expect me to forget everything I've been through.”

“I’m not asking you to forget,” he replied, lifting his gaze to meet yours with an intense look. “I'm asking you to accept what’s between us. To put aside that pride and let yourself feel.”

But as his lips continued exploring the skin of your neck, you found yourself in a tug-of-war between desire and fear. You were afraid to surrender, to allow yourself to feel something for him, to open yourself to the possibility that love could bloom amidst that confusion.

“What if you hurt me?” you asked, barely above a whisper, as vulnerability crept into your voice.

Ubbe paused and looked at you, his eyes reflecting a mix of seriousness and tenderness. “I would never hurt you, wife. What I feel for you is real, and I won’t let that get lost in your uncertainty. But you have to decide. Are you going to keep fighting this, or are you going to let things flow?”

You grabbed him by the clothes and pulled him towards you, drawing him against your lips with a determination that surprised even your own mind. You could no longer keep playing this game of resistance. The spark between you was too strong, and every second spent denying it was a waste.

Ubbe momentarily looked surprised, but hardly a moment later, his hands found their place on your waist, and the tension of the moment turned into an explosion of desire. His lips found yours with an intensity that stole the breath from your lungs. It was a kiss that contained the promise of everything you had been trying to ignore: the connection, the attraction, the fire that had begun to ignite between you from the very first moment.

“It’s about time,” he murmured between kisses, his deep voice vibrating in your chest as his lips moved with an almost desperate heat. Every touch, every connection, dismantled the barriers you had erected, and you surrendered to desire without reservations.

You hurriedly undressed, as if each article of clothing that fell to the floor stripped not just your bodies but also the doubts and fears you had accumulated between you. The desire burned in the air, palpable and electrifying, as your hands explored the exposed skin, discovering every inch of your bodies with a mix of need and wonder.

Ubbe looked at you intensely, his dark eyes filled with desire and determination. “You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined,” he said, his words a whisper laden with admiration as his fingers traced your figure, from your shoulders to the curve of your hip. Each brush of his skin against yours ignited a flame that seemed to consume everything in its path.

Ubbe leaned in, his lips finding your neck, hot and firm kisses that made you close your eyes and lose yourself in the sensation. Each stroke of his mouth ignited your skin, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You felt his warm breath as he explored your neck, leaving marks that testified to his desire.

With each kiss, his mouth descended, tracing a heated path toward your breasts. He paused for a moment, admiring your figure before letting his lips fall upon your soft skin, filling it with warm, wet caresses. His hands glided along your ribs, holding you steady while his mouth ventured lower, savoring every inch of you as if you were an exquisite delicacy.

You felt the pressure of his lips, each kiss a claim, an act of possession that made you tremble with anticipation. “You’re perfect,” he murmured against your skin before capturing a nipple between his lips. The contact was electrifying, a raw pleasure that made a moan escape your lips before you could contain it. The sensation of his warm mouth, combined with the pressure of his suction, drove you to the brink of madness.

You couldn’t think of anything else, only of him and how each caress of his mouth ignited the fire within you.

Ubbe continued his descent, alternating between soft kisses and firmer bites, enjoying the way your body responded to each touch. He paused for a moment, looking you in the eyes, making sure you were enjoying it as much as he was. The intensity of his gaze, filled with desire, made you feel vulnerable but at the same time powerful.

“I want more,” you pleaded, feeling that you could not resist the need for his body against yours.

Ubbe guided you to the bed, each step resonating with a palpable anticipation in the air. His firm hands on your waist led you to the edge of the bed, where the dim light danced over the dark wood, creating an intimate atmosphere that only intensified the desire between you.

He gently pushed you, making you fall onto the bed with a soft sigh. The softness of the furs covering the bed contrasted with the firmness of his body, and when he leaned closer, you felt his warmth envelop you. Ubbe leaned in, resting one knee on the edge of the bed while his eyes devoured you with a lust that made your heart race.

“I want you to feel everything that I am,” he murmured, his deep voice laden with promises as he leaned over you. His lips found your skin again, beginning to kiss your abdomen with an almost reverential devotion. With each kiss, his lips moved lower, leaving you breathless and completely at his mercy.

His kisses slid down your thigh, each contact sending sparks of desire coursing through your body. Ubbe took your leg and placed it over his shoulder, making your heart race with the mix of vulnerability and excitement. His gaze intensified as he sank into the exposed skin of your inner thigh, his mouth nipping with a ferocity that made it clear there was nothing tender or sweet about his intentions.

The brush of his lips and the pressure of his teeth against your skin were raw and primal, awakening a deep yearning within you. His movements were confident and decisive, each bite, each kiss, a declaration of possession. The sensation of his warm, wet mouth contrasted with the cold air, and the scrape of his teeth made you arch your back, releasing a moan that escaped your lips before you could hold it back.

“You are completely mine,” he murmured between kisses, his low voice heavy with desire as he continued exploring the softness of your thigh, getting closer and closer to what you both craved. Your body responded to his dominance, eager to receive him, to surrender to the wave of sensations he provoked.

The outside world disappeared; it was just you and Ubbe, lost in a sway of desire and lust. Ubbe adjusted your other leg over his shoulder, burying his face between them with an almost animalistic hunger. There was no sweetness or tenderness in his actions; it was pure need, a raw desire that stopped at nothing. His tongue moved with urgency, exploring every corner, while his lips sucked with force, causing you to arch and moan.

The intensity of his devotion left you breathless, each touch a blend of lust and possession. You clutched the sheets, feeling the friction between your skin and the fabric only intensify the electricity coursing through your body.

“You’re only mine,” he murmured between gasps, his deep voice heavy with desire as he continued his assault on your body. Every movement of his mouth was fierce, almost desperate, as if he were trying to mark you with his essence.

There was no room for romance; only a primal urge pulled you toward madness. He pushed you to the edge, leaving you breathless as pleasure built up, dark and voracious. In that moment, you were only his, and everything else faded away.

Ubbe skillfully used his tongue, provoking a bundle of nerves within you as he moved between your legs. The brush of his tongue against your clitoris sent waves of pleasure through your body, intensifying every sensation to its limit. You clung to the bed, the mix of vulnerability and desire pushing you to the edge of madness.

His hands firmly held your hips, keeping you in place while he lost himself in the warmth of your skin. Every movement was precise, as if he knew every sensitive corner, every spot that made you tremble. Moans escaped your lips uncontrollably, and you felt trapped between pleasure and the need for more.

Ubbe felt your hand tangled in his hair, pulling on it tightly, which only intensified his devotion. Your legs tightened around his head, almost begging him not to stop. The pleasure he was giving you was so overwhelming that you couldn’t think clearly; you were a mix of sensations and desires colliding within you.

With each movement of his tongue, he made sure you felt completely ensnared in his world, taking you on a spiral of ecstasy. It was a dangerous dance between surrender and control, and in that moment, you didn’t care about giving in to his ravenous desire. Soon, the orgasm hit you like an unstoppable wave, overwhelming you with its fury. Ubbe, the hungry man he was, took everything from you, devouring every ounce of pleasure emanating from your body.

Ubbe rose from his position, gripping your waist firmly and turning you over so that you were face down before him. His touch was authoritative, but the mix of desire and possession you felt only stoked the fire inside you. The slap on your backside echoed in the room, a clear sound that underscored his dominance.

“Lift your ass for me,” he commanded in a deep voice, his tone filled with desire and determination. There was no space for doubt; it was a declaration of what he wanted, and your body, still trembling from the previous climax, responded to his call.

With a sigh, you obeyed, raising your hips and arching your back, presenting your body as a tribute to his desire. You felt his burning gaze roaming over you, appreciating every curve and exposed inch.

His strong hands kneaded your backside, exploring every centimeter of your skin with a mix of strength and need. As he did, you could feel his hardness rubbing against you, pressing just where you knew he would soon claim you completely. “Please,” you begged, desire escaping your lips before you could hold it back. There was no longer any space for pride or games; you wanted him, you needed him.

He smiled arrogantly upon hearing your words. "That's how I like it, wife," he said, a dark satisfaction in his voice.

Ubbe entered you with a slow and torturous movement, filling you inch by inch, making you feel every part of his body as he pushed deeper. The deliberately slow rhythm was a mix of pleasure and agony, as if he wanted to savor every second of that moment, ensuring you felt each of his movements. You couldn’t help a sob from escaping your throat, the sound soft yet filled with an undeniable need.

"Ubbe, please…" you whimpered, pushing your hips toward him, begging for more. But he only laughed, his deep voice filling the space between you.

"Is that all you can give me? I thought you were stronger than that." His mocking tone made you shiver, but there was something about the way he kept you at his mercy that made you feel entirely his. You had no escape, and you knew it. You wanted to resist, but your body craved him more than you wanted to admit.

You tried to move, to quicken the pace, but his hands on your hips held you in place, not allowing you to escape his slow torment. “Not so fast,” he murmured, his fingers tightening a little more against your skin. “You’re going to take it how I want.” Tears began to fill your eyes from the desperation of that agonizing rhythm.

Another sob escaped your lips, your body shuddering as he continued with that calculated pace. "Please… faster," you begged, unable to control the need consuming you. "I can’t… I can’t take it anymore."

But instead of yielding to your request, Ubbe leaned closer to you, whispering near your ear with a smile you could feel in his voice. "You’re going to endure it all, and you’re going to beg for more when I’m done with you."

Your nails dug into the sheets, trying to find something to hold onto as your body surrendered completely to him. "You’re cruel," you sobbed, but the truth was you loved that cruelty. You loved the way he controlled you, the way every fiber of your being bent beneath his touch, beneath his desire. And the worst part was that you couldn’t resist it; you didn’t even want to.

"I’m just being fair," he replied in that deep voice, his hands sliding down your back to grip your hips tighter. "This is what you wanted, isn’t it?" His question didn’t require an answer because both of you knew the truth. He had ensnared you in his web, and there was no turning back.

Your breathing became heavier, sobs choking in your throat as he continued that exasperating motion, filling you completely time and again. Your hips tried once more to follow his rhythm, but he just pressed his body harder against yours, ensuring you couldn’t move an inch more than he allowed.

The change was immediate. The rhythm that had once tortured you with its slowness transformed into something much fiercer and wilder. Ubbe's hips began to crash against your backside with a force that took your breath away. There was no more room for pleas or begging; it all came down to that frantic movement that shook you to your core. His hand fell upon your skin, delivering a slap that made you arch your back, a muffled scream escaping your lips before the other cheek received the same treatment.

You couldn’t help but moan at the mix of pain and pleasure. Your fingers clung to the sheets in desperation, trying to find some semblance of control as he took yours mercilessly. Each thrust was stronger than the last, and you felt your body surrender completely to his will. It was almost impossible to concentrate on anything but the sound of his hips colliding with you, the echo of his skin against yours filling the room.

"That's how you like it, isn’t it?" he growled through gritted teeth, his hands gripping your waist tighter as he held you in place, leaving you no choice but to take it all. "I knew you were a liar when you said you hated me." His voice was filled with satisfaction, as if he had won a game that both of you knew was in his favor from the start.

Another smack echoed against your backside, and the burning pain mixed with pleasure made you let out a louder moan, your legs trembling as you tried to hold your ground. "Ubbe… I can't take anymore…" you gasped, but he showed no mercy. On the contrary, he quickened his pace even more, moving inside you with an intensity that made you see stars. You knew you were close, that your body couldn’t withstand much more of that relentless rhythm.

"Yes, you can," he murmured, his deep, low voice punishing you with faster, deeper thrusts. "You’re going to endure everything I give you." His hand slid down to your belly, holding you firmly against his body as his hips kept working tirelessly. You were trapped between pain and pleasure, each hit against your backside making you vibrate completely, pushing you closer to that edge from which you could not return.

Each thrust made you feel every inch of him inside you, and you were so sensitive that you couldn’t help but react instinctively. You clenched around him with every movement, an involuntary spasm that seemed to drive him wild. You felt him growl behind you, his breath heavier and more erratic as he continued to slide in and out of you, deeper, faster.

"You’re so tight," he growled, his voice ragged from effort, as one hand trailed down your back, tracing the curve of your spine before gripping your hip tightly. "You have no idea how much I love feeling you like this, so mine."

You felt it all too, growing more intense, deeper, as if your body were merging with his. Your hands trembled, barely managing to hold yourself in position, your skin burning where he touched you. The heat between you was unbearable, and every time you clenched around him, it seemed to urge him to move harder, as if he were searching for a limit he couldn’t find.

"Ubbe…" you moaned his name, unable to help it. Your body was completely out of your control, each thrust tearing sounds from your throat you didn’t even know you could make. All you could do was endure, feel, and let yourself be swept away by that wave of pleasure consuming you.

"Don't stop," you pleaded between gasps, even though your body was already on the verge of another climax. You needed it, you wanted more, everything from him. And he knew it, because his rhythm didn’t slow down; he kept pushing you beyond your limits, giving you everything you knew only he could offer.

"You feel so good… so fucking good," he murmured, his deep voice resonating against your skin. Every word he spoke made you shiver, every movement inside you was like an electric shock coursing through you. You were trapped in a spiral of sensations, lost in desire and in the way he filled you over and over again, without respite.

His hand slid through your hair, taking a handful firmly as he pulled it back, forcing you to arch your back even more. The soft pain mixed with pleasure, intensifying every sensation in your body. “Look forward,” he ordered in an authoritative tone, and your heart raced as you obeyed.

“You’re a good wife,” he commented through clenched teeth, a flash of satisfaction in his voice. “You’re doing so well.” Each word was like fuel that stoked the flames of your desire. You bit your lip to stifle a moan, but the pleasure was becoming so overwhelming that you could hardly contain yourself.

His other hand caressed your hips while the first continued to dominate your head. “Give me more, hold on tighter,” he said in a demanding tone, and in a moment of fervor, you tightened around him, letting yourself be carried away by that mix of power and surrender.

“Ubbe,” you called, your voice barely a whisper, a plea, as the pleasure built up inside you. “I can’t… I can’t take any more.” Finally, when you thought you couldn’t endure it any longer, he found that perfect angle that made you lose control. “What do you want?” he asked, increasing his pace, pushing you toward the edge, reveling in how your body responded to his every word. The pressure was intense, the need to release all that desire was becoming more urgent. “Tell me,” he insisted, and in a moment of desperation, you dropped the barrier you had maintained.

“I want… I want you to fill me,” you pleaded, feeling the world fade away around you. He smiled, a mix of satisfaction and dominance in his gaze. “That’s how to speak, wife,” he replied, tightening his grip in your hair and increasing the intensity of his thrusts.

In an unexpected move, he turned your hips toward him, going even deeper, and the change in angle was electrifying. “Ubbe!” you cried out, feeling pleasure peak. The way he dominated you, the intensity of his movements, it was all a heady mix that you couldn’t resist.

Ubbe reached his climax explosively, his body tensing against yours as a wave of heat consumed him. The sensation spilled over your back, and you felt his seed cover you, warm and sticky. “You’re mine,” he murmured possessively as he held you trapped against his body, breathing heavily. His hands were still on your waist, gripping firmly, as if he wanted to ensure you wouldn’t go anywhere.

Ubbe slowly pulled away, letting his essence slide over your skin. You turned to him, and although there was a spark of defiance in your gaze, there was also acceptance. There were no more pretenses; the desire was real, and the connection that had formed between you was inevitable.

[demensrage]

g for get some fun ⚊ • . with itachi and shisui uchiha

summary: training can be fun, but it's more fun when your favorite people decide to give you their full attention. under their care, training will always be fun.

cw: threesome, double penetration, oral (f/m. receiving), fingering, breeding kink, dirty talk, tits sucking.

wordcount: 6.6k

note: english is not my firts lenguage so please forgive me for the grammatical errors I may commit.

© demensrage 2024. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

Your body trembled with pure rage, so intense that even your muscles hurts. You watched the sun rise on the horizon as you kept ranting, hurling shurikens over and over at the tree in front of you, as if those small weapons could tear away the burning anger from that public humiliation. The scene with your instructor was still seared into your mind.

"No matter how hard you try, you’ll never be anyone." Those words stabbed into your brain like a sharp kunai. How dare he say that to you? He was just a fool consumed by envy. Sure, you hadn’t awakened the Sharingan yet, but your life had been relatively peaceful. You hadn’t faced the darkness needed to activate those eyes that defined your clan.

After throwing the last shuriken, you let out a deep sigh and raised your hands to the sky, stretching. Waking up early to train hadn’t been the best idea, but you felt that need, that urgency to prove your instructor wrong. It didn’t matter that he thought you were destined for mediocrity. You knew your future would be different.

You were more angry than exhausted, and just as you walked to pick up the shurikens embedded in the tree, you realized there was nothing in front of you anymore. You frowned, puzzled, and quickly glanced around. No one was there. You clenched your teeth, biting the inside of your cheek, and cursed quietly.

Suddenly, you felt a soft tap on your head, a playful pat. You spun around quickly, ready to defend yourself, but the shurikens reappeared stuck in the tree as if they had never disappeared. And there, standing right in front of you, was Itachi, looking at you with an innocent expression, but his activated Sharingan told a different story. That intense crimson, with its perfect black tomoe, stirred a mix of admiration and envy in you. The power you so longed to have was right in front of you, and in him, it seemed so natural, as if it required no effort.

"You keep falling for the same trick," said a familiar voice behind you, full of amusement.

When you turned to face him, it wasn’t Itachi who moved, but Shisui, who in a swift and carefree motion, stole a kiss from you. It was fleeting, almost ethereal, but it left a burning spark on your lips.

Your heart skipped a beat as he looked at you with a playful smile, while Itachi stood still in front of you, calm, as if it had all been just another prank between friends.

You couldn’t understand what had changed that suddenly both Shisui and Itachi had started behaving in this strangely affectionate way. Shisui, usually playful but reserved, was now stealing kisses as if it were a regular thing, and worst of all, Itachi, who had always been colder and more calculating, didn’t seem upset or surprised, but... almost complicit.

When did it start being like this? You felt confused. It was as if overnight the dynamic between the three of you had changed without warning, and you were left stuck in the middle, not understanding the new rules of the game. You had trained with them for years, shared missions, laughter, and moments of tension, but they had never dared to cross that line.

You decided not to overthink it, letting it be, because for some reason, it felt... right. As if everything had finally fallen into place, as if this, what was happening between the three of you, was meant to be. It was a strange feeling, but comforting, as if you had been resisting something inevitable for a long time, and now, by letting it flow, everything felt in harmony.

"Did we miss something?" Itachi asked as he picked up your shurikens from the tree for you. His tone was calm, but his words snapped you back to reality. "You seem distracted." His gaze softened, and then he added, with a comforting calmness, "You know, you shouldn't pay attention to what your instructor says."

You watched him approach slowly, and before you could respond, Itachi smiled at you with a tenderness he rarely showed. With a simple but familiar gesture, he gently ruffled your hair. The usual coldness on his face had completely vanished in that moment.

Your breath caught for a moment when his lips brushed against yours with a softness you hadn't expected. It was a kiss so gentle yet deep in its intent, as if he'd been watching how you'd sought the same from Shisui and was now offering it to you on his behalf.

Your thoughts, still a bit disorganized by the sudden change in his behavior, quieted completely. Itachi's kiss had something different. Where Shisui was playful, Itachi was measured and sure.

The question surged back into your mind, like an echo reverberating in your thoughts. You had lost count of how many times those small, intimate gestures had become so commonplace. It had all started in the privacy of one of their rooms, stolen moments that now seemed not to matter at all. The brush of their hands, the glances that lingered a little longer than usual, the silences filled with meaning… Everything had evolved into something much more open, and intimacy had ceased to be a secret.

It was as if they were claiming you as part of them, as if you somehow belonged to their world. You were theirs, only theirs. Right? You always had been, hadn’t you? On reflection, there had never been another friend in their lives besides you. They never talked about other girls with that kind of closeness, and you never saw them interact with other women in a romantic way. Really, they were always where you were.

The realization clicked in your mind immediately, like a gear perfectly fitting into place. You weren’t theirs; they were yours. That idea, once vague, now shone with clarity. They were your friends, your confidants, but also something more. They belonged to you just as much as you did to them.

Itachi was only older than you by less than three months, but that had never been an obstacle. You had known each other since infancy, sharing laughter and tears in a corner of the world that had always belonged to the both of you. Then came Shisui, who joined the friendship you and Itachi shared. He fit in instantly, as if he were the missing piece of a puzzle that had always been incomplete.

Now that you thought about it, they had always orbited around you. You hadn’t noticed it at first, but every gesture and every word took on new meaning. The way they protected you, how they comforted you in difficult moments, or how they allowed you to sleep on them when fatigue overtook you. It was a subtle but profound bond, built on years of trust and loyalty.

You could remember those moments when they carried you in their arms when you asked for help, those instances of vulnerability where you allowed their closeness to envelop you like a warm coat. You tried to recall a time when they weren’t by your side, and it was like searching for a shadow in the dark: it simply didn’t exist. Not even the one time they had denied you something felt real.

They were always there, always ready to offer their support. You were the center of their world, and they were yours. With each revelation, the feeling of belonging grew stronger. It wasn’t just friendship; it was a bond that transcended simple companionship. You were important to them, and the idea that they also belonged to you began to settle deep within your soul.

With every look you shared with Itachi and every laugh exchanged with Shisui, you realized you had never been alone. And now, as you accepted that the love and intimacy they offered you weren’t just gifts but a promise, you felt yourself opening up to a future that had always been there, waiting to be claimed.

"You’re distracted again," said Itachi, frowning as if he could see through the façade you were trying to maintain. "If it’s because of what the instructor said…"

"It’s not that," you replied immediately, letting out a radiant smile that lit up your face. The sunlight seemed to reflect off your cheeks as you tried to downplay his words. "It’s just that I woke up really early."

You couldn’t simply admit that, more than ever, you liked the idea of being part of what they had agreed upon in private. It was a secret that pulsed between the three of you, a connection that felt more intense with each little gesture, each shared smile. Now that you thought about it, the idea of what was happening, though it still lacked a defined name, filled you with a warmth you couldn’t ignore.

Shisui, who had been a step behind, moved a little closer, his smile full of complicity. "Maybe we should train together," he suggested, with that playful air that was so characteristic of him. "That way we can make sure you don’t get lost in thought for too long."

The idea of spending time alone with them, training and joking around, filled you with a barely contained excitement. It was a perfect moment, an opportunity to explore that bond that was forming, that connection that felt more natural with each passing day. You knew you liked what was happening, and now that you were starting to accept it, the possibility of it all becoming something more filled you with anticipation.

You nodded immediately, feeling the excitement grow inside you. "That sounds perfect," you said, carefully taking the shurikens from Itachi’s hand, your fingers brushing his for a brief moment that sent a pleasant shiver through you.

Shisui watched you, a mischievous smile on his lips. “Are you ready to be defeated?” he asked, his playful tone contrasting with the seriousness of the training.

“Defeated? I think you’re mistaken,” you replied, feeling the adrenaline start to flow. “I’m not going to let that happen.” With every word, your determination grew stronger.

“Come on,” Itachi said, his voice firm but filled with a strange warmth. “Show me what you’ve learned.”

With a confident smile, you got into position, feeling the solid ground beneath your feet. You knew your strength lay in hand-to-hand combat, and you were determined to use that to your advantage. However, part of you was aware that, with Itachi and Shisui as your opponents, the odds were against you. Both were prodigies, and while training with them made you better, you knew you’d need more than strength to take them on.

With a swift movement, you launched yourself toward them, knowing the key would be staying unpredictable and taking advantage of any opening you could find.

You let yourself fall heavily onto the grass, exhaustion taking over every muscle in your body. Drops of sweat trickled down your forehead, some lost in the grass while others continued their path down to your jaw. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, desperately seeking oxygen to calm your body’s frantic rhythm after the intense training.

“Just five minutes, okay?” you gasped, covering your face with the back of your left hand while the other rested on your stomach. The contact with the cool air helped you recover, but you knew those five minutes would likely turn into more if you didn’t get up soon.

From your position on the ground, you heard the calm footsteps of Itachi and Shisui approaching. Itachi crouched down beside you with his usual calmness, while Shisui plopped down heavily next to you, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“Five minutes, you say,” Shisui commented, clearly less exhausted than you but pretending to be amusingly exasperated. “I’m surprised you’re not asking for ten yet.”

Itachi looked at you with a small smile on his lips before gently lowering himself onto the grass as well, although remaining more composed. “You’ve improved a lot,” he remarked in his calm tone, as if the combat hadn’t affected him as much.

“I have the best trainers,” you replied with a tired smile, still covering part of your face with your arm. Even though you were exhausted, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of inner satisfaction from Itachi’s words and Shisui’s complicity. After all, training with them was a privilege, and every day made you improve just a little more.

Shisui chuckled softly, gazing up at the sky. “Of course, we’re a marvel,” he joked, though there was a hidden sincerity in his tone.

“It’s not just because of us,” Itachi retorted, looking at you warmly. “You have talent, and you know it.”

Those words made your heart skip a beat. You had heard compliments before, but when they came from them, the impact was different, deeper. You knew both of them were honest with you; they would never tell you something just to make you feel better.

You moved your hand away from your face, feeling the slight coolness of the air as you absentmindedly played with the hem of your leggings, which fit your body like a second skin. “Thank you,” you murmured softly, not taking your gaze off the clouds beginning to cover the sky, trying to maintain calm amid the intimacy of the moment.

The light weight of Shisui’s head settled on your stomach, and a shiver ran across your skin when he left a brief kiss on your thigh, his warm breath marking every touch. You didn’t say anything; you just began to tangle your fingers in his hair, playing with the softness of his strands. The movement of your hands felt almost instinctive, as if they had always been meant to touch him that way.

Itachi, for his part, was equally serene in his actions. His fingers brushed your cheek gently, using his knuckles before taking your chin between his fingers, leaning closer to you. His deep gaze captivated you, as if he were asking permission for what would come next. There was something in his eyes, a mix of tenderness and restrained desire that always managed to disarm you.

You nodded softly, barely a movement, but enough for him to notice. One of your hands left Shisui's hair, gliding down his neck, while your lips met Itachi's in a kiss that shifted from soft to intense in a matter of seconds. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, seeking entry, and without hesitation, you allowed him in, opening your mouth to feel the kiss deepen, becoming more demanding.

Shisui began to leave a line of soft, teasing kisses on your thigh, his mouth slowly advancing while the warmth of his lips spread across your skin. You felt his skilled hands lift the fabric of your top with the same calmness with which he placed each kiss, until his lips found your abdomen. A shiver ran through your body as his warm breath touched your exposed skin.

Each kiss that traveled up toward your neck heightened the anticipation in your body, until finally, his lips reached your collarbone, lingering there with a longer kiss. Itachi pulled away with his characteristic control, leaving space for Shisui to continue, but not without looking at you one last time with that intensity that always disarmed you.

Shisui's lips finally reached yours, capturing you in a kiss that was as heated as Itachi's, but different in its own way—more playful, more wild. The differences between the two had always fascinated you, the way they could complement each other, and now more than ever, you realized how surrendered you were to the delicate balance they shared.

Everything began to take a different path, one that blurred the lines between friendship and something deeper. Itachi's hands found their way under your top, his fingers soft and determined squeezing your breasts through your sports bra, creating a sensation of warmth and desire that made you hold your breath.

“You can say no if you don’t want to,” Shisui murmured against your lips, his voice low and tempting. He gently tugged on your lower lip between his teeth, sending a pleasurable shiver through your body, before licking it with a sweetness that left you yearning for more.

“You don’t have to agree if you’re not comfortable yet,” Itachi added, his tone firm but understanding, as if he were genuinely considering your feelings at that moment. His gaze remained fixed on yours, searching for any sign of doubt or discomfort, making sure you didn’t feel pressured.

“Yes, I want to,” you said, feeling the decision flow clearly in your voice. You exchanged glances with them, a mix of excitement and anticipation filling the air between you.

“Let’s go somewhere else,” Itachi said, helping you to your feet with a firm yet gentle gesture. His hand felt warm around your wrist as he guided you. Shisui followed, his presence close to you reassuring, a reminder that you weren’t alone in this.

Itachi led the way, while Shisui stayed by your side, ensuring you felt comfortable.

Finally, they arrived at a small clearing, secluded and tranquil, surrounded by trees that offered a sense of privacy. The place was illuminated by the soft light of the sunset, creating a magical atmosphere.

“Is this okay here?” Itachi asked, looking around to make sure it was the right spot.

You turned to look at him, feeling a knot of nervousness forming in your stomach. God, they were fucking beautiful; the sunset light illuminated their faces in an almost ethereal way. “Yeah, um…” you began, unsure of how to articulate your thoughts.

Itachi, ever perceptive, noticed you had more to say. With a slight smile, he tilted his head, encouraging you to continue. “No one comes here, just the three of us, and now you,” he said, his voice calm and confident, like an anchor in the midst of your confusion.

You felt a little more relaxed at his assurance. You knew there was a shared trust between the three of you, an understanding that went beyond words. Gathering your courage, you decided to speak.

“Just… I don’t know exactly how… how to proceed,” you admitted, feeling the heat in your cheeks. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, or for this to change what we have.”

Shisui stepped forward, his expression gentle. “No one is pressured. We want you to feel good and safe with us. We’re here for you, no matter how you want this to progress.”

Shisui’s words were like a balm, soothing your anxieties and allowing you to open up to the possibility of what was to come.

You gathered the courage to approach Shisui, your trembling lips pressing against his as you nervously took Itachi’s hand, not wanting to leave him behind. The contact was electrifying, and although your nerves were on edge, you felt it was time to let go.

Itachi’s hands moved firmly, finding your breasts and squeezing them over the fabric of your top, his fingers sinking into you with a mix of desire and possession. Heat built up quickly, elevating the tension in the air.

Shisui broke the kiss, but only to tilt your face toward Itachi, forcing you to look into his dark, deep eyes. “Kiss him,” he murmured as he began to leave kisses and nibbles on your neck, his hot, wet lips trailing sensations that made you shiver. It was as if each touch ignited a spark of desire within you.

You let yourself go, feeling how Itachi responded to your body, his hands gripping you with an intensity that made you gasp. The pace became more frantic, the air thick with a mix of sweat and desire, and you found yourself caught in the whirlwind of their caresses.

The next thing that happened was instantaneous: your shorts and panties disappeared, leaving you completely exposed. Itachi gently pushed you to the ground, and as he removed your top and bra, you felt a chill run through your body. Your hands instinctively closed around your breasts, and you squeezed your legs together, a blush flooding your cheeks as the reality of the situation hit you.

It was the first time you were completely at their mercy, vulnerable and exposed. But as their gazes met yours, a spark of trust ignited within you. They weren’t just men; they were your friends, your protectors. With a trembling breath, you decided it was time to let them take control.

Carefully, you began to uncover your breasts, feeling the cool air caress your skin. Both of their eyes shone with a mix of desire and possession, and although their expressions were dark, you felt them consuming you with their gaze. They shared a brief knowing glance before leaning in, and in a simultaneous movement, each took one of your breasts in their mouth.

A gasp escaped your lips as you felt the warmth and wetness of their mouths on you. Your hands found their necks, pressing their heads closer, binding their lips to your body with a need you hadn’t anticipated. Each suck, each caress, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making you lose touch with reality, leaving only the fire that burned in your chest.

Your breasts were a delicacy between their lips, each suction resonating in your mind like an echo of pure pleasure. Shisui focused on one while Itachi alternated between biting and licking the other, creating a rhythm that made your body respond with a ravenous desire.

Itachi’s hands slid down to your waist, exploring your skin as his lips moved with devotion, each kiss leaving a mark of his hunger. “You look so beautiful like this,” Shisui murmured, the vibration of his voice sending a wave of pleasure straight to your stomach.

As both of them dedicated themselves to you, desire took over, filling you with a need you could barely control. You arched your back, seeking more contact, more of them.

The way Itachi cheekily nibbled on your nipple and then licked it to soothe the burning sensation was pure lust. You let yourself go, feeling the pleasure intensify with every movement.

Meanwhile, hands began to make their way between your legs, and the feeling of two fingers parting your folds made you gasp. Shisui’s smile was mischievous, his mouth still busy with your breast, and you felt the tension building. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he murmured against your nipple, his words sending a wave of heat that made you shiver.

Itachi, wasting no time, joined his hand with Shisui’s, their fingers working in perfect sync as he moved up to kiss you with a possession that made you feel like you had no escape. His lips took over yours, filling you with a mix of desire and urgency, while his other hand twisted and caressed your nipples between his fingers.

Shisui gave your clit a pinch, eliciting a cry of pleasure to escape your lips. Before you could process it, he dipped a finger inside you, making you moan as your hips arched to receive him. “You like that, huh?” he whispered with a mischievous grin, as he began pumping in a slow, teasing rhythm.

Itachi, not missing the opportunity, began to stimulate your bundle of nerves, his fingers moving expertly as his dark eyes focused on you. “Look at you, so soaked for us,” he murmured, his voice filled with desire. The heat inside you increased as you lost yourself in the pleasure.

“See how that makes you feel?” Shisui continued, adding a second finger, increasing the intensity. “You can’t deny how much you like it, can you? Let it all flow out.”

The words made it even more intense. With each thrust, your body responded with a mix of moans and sighs, the pleasure building up more and more.

Itachi leaned closer, his lips barely touching your ear. “You want more, sweetie? Tell me,” he said in a seductive tone. “We won’t stop you, I want you to moan our name.”

“Yes!” you exclaimed as Shisui added another finger, curling it inside you and pressing that sweet spot that made you lose your mind. The pleasure intensified, and your legs spread wider, wanting to be filled even more.

Itachi’s hands gave one last tug to your nipples, a gesture that left you even more turned on. When he pulled down his pants, you couldn’t help but stare brazenly, your eyes fixed on his crotch, ready to discover what he was hiding.

“Sit on my face, sweetie,” Shisui said, his voice thick with desire. The command was a tantalizing whisper, and you couldn’t resist. Without a second thought, you moved, placing yourself on top of him as your body vibrated with anticipation.

With one movement, you dropped down, feeling his mouth find you just as you settled in. Shisui's fingers continued to pump inside you, and the combination of his mouth and hands brought you to the edge of ecstasy.

Itachi watched you, his gaze filled with desire, and that only made the situation even more intense. "That's it, that's how I like it," Shisui said, keeping up his pace as your hips moved, enjoying the pleasure they gave you.

Itachi brought a hand to his cock, fucking his fist as he watched you ride Shisui's mouth, who had his hands wrapped around your thighs, keeping you pinned down on him.

You bit your lip as you felt his tongue tease your entrance, an overwhelming heat running through your body. Your gaze connected to the sight before you; fuck, your mouth was watering just watching it. "Open that pretty mouth for me," Itachi said, his voice thick with desire.

You couldn't resist the temptation. With a brazen gesture, you opened your mouth, ready to please him. The mix of sensations, of pleasure and desire, enveloped you as you let yourself get carried away by the moment.

You took him like a good girl, wrapping your lips around his length, slowly, feeling every inch as you kept eye contact with Itachi. He watched you with overwhelming intensity, his jaw tense as you let your tongue run along his length.

Shisui's muffled moans against your center only increased the pressure in your body, your legs shaking as he devoured you mercilessly, his tongue moving skillfully. Itachi let out a low growl, his hand tangling in your hair, gently guiding you as you sank deeper into the rhythm they both set for you.

You rolled your hips harder as you felt Shisui's hands squeeze your ass, forcing you even closer to his mouth, even though you already felt like you were as close as you could be. His tongue worked relentlessly, finding every spot that made you shiver, while his fingers dug harder into your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

The wet sound of his tongue moving in you and your own moans, muffled by Itachi's pressure in your mouth, created an intoxicating mix that made you lose yourself in pleasure.

You sucked harder, following the rhythm Itachi set as he looked at you with desire in his eyes. His moans were soft but deep, and every sound that came out of his mouth motivated you to keep going, to give him more. Your tongue brushed his skin with precision, tasting every part of him as you took him deep, letting yourself be guided by the heat and urgency of the moment.

"You're doing so well," Itachi whispered, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you gently. His caresses on your head were a contrast to the intensity of the moment, filled with a strange kind of tenderness as he watched you with his dark, piercing eyes.

Shisui, beneath you, increased the pressure of his tongue, causing a moan to choke from your throat, vibrating against Itachi. “Fuck, keep it up,” Shisui growled, his voice muffled by your skin, as his hands gripped your hips tighter, controlling your every movement on him.

You were so close that you couldn’t help but sob in pleasure, the sounds escaping your lips in the midst of your work. Every caress, every brush of Shisui’s tongue, and every thrust from Itachi brought you to the edge, and the heat in your abdomen grew, threatening to spill over at any moment.

“That’s it, let yourself go,” Itachi murmured, watching intently as you lost yourself in the pleasure they both offered you. His soft voice was like a balm, and even though you felt exposed, there was something incredibly liberating about letting yourself go in the moment. The combination of his words and Shisui's actions had you wanting more, more and more, as the pleasure built up inside you.

You felt it coming, that boiling point where the pressure became almost unbearable. Your hip movements became erratic, the need to release all that tension intensifying. Still, you tried to continue your work, holding yourself on the edge as you rode the rising wave of orgasm.

Moans escaped your lips, each sound becoming an echo of the pleasure flooding your senses. Shisui, sensing your struggle, increased the pressure of his tongue, while Itachi looked at you with a fire in his eyes that made you feel even more alive.

"That's it, let yourself go," Itachi repeated, encouraging you. You let yourself fall into the abyss, the wave of pleasure crashing against you, taking you with it. Euphoria enveloped you completely, and in that instant, everything else disappeared.

Itachi pulled away from your mouth, gently caressing your cheek with his fingers, his gaze filled with complicity and desire as your head rested on his thigh. The warmth of his skin was comforting, like a refuge after the storm of pleasure.

Shisui, for his part, caressed your ass before pulling away from you, leaving you with an empty feeling that contrasted with the recent satisfaction. His absence was palpable, but the way they both looked at you, with a glint in their eyes that promised more, filled you with anticipation.

“Are you okay?” Itachi asked, his voice low and soft, as he watched you carefully, as if to make sure you were comfortable after the intense experience. “Yes,” you whispered, your lips swollen and wet, voice shaky from the mix of exhaustion and desire.

Itachi smiled, a glint of satisfaction in his gaze. “You’re amazing,” he murmured, stroking your hair before looking up at Shisui. “Ready for another?” Shisui asked, his tone playful and teasing. “Because I see you ready for more.”

With a slight nod, you braced yourself for what was to come, the air thick with anticipation and desire. You felt the electricity between them, the way they both shared this moment, and you couldn’t help but feel anxious for what was to follow.

“Stay like that, baby,” Itachi said, moving closer until he was behind you. His hands found your wetness, two fingers sliding gently, feeling every response from your body as Shisui settled in beside you.

You felt Itachi's presence behind you, his lips and teeth leaving soft bites on the skin of your neck, the combination of pain and pleasure lighting up every nerve. Itachi held you against his chest, his hands firmly on your thighs, controlling your movements with ease.

As Shisui aligned himself with your entrance, the atmosphere was charged with palpable tension, and with a deep inhale, your body braced itself for what was to come.

Shisui's thrust was firm and deep, slowly filling you as your walls tightened around him, instinctively squeezing him. A gasp escaped your lips as you felt him push his way inside you, stretching you in a delicious way. Your hands gripped his shoulders as your legs wrapped around his waist tighter, trying to adjust to the sensation invading your body.

Itachi, behind you, continued to place soft bites and kisses on your neck, his hands running up and down your sides, fueling the fire already burning within you.

Each thrust from Shisui made your body tremble with a mix of pleasure and need. His movements were slow, but each one was deep, filling you completely and stretching the time between desire and satisfaction. Your breathing became erratic as your head rested on Itachi's shoulder, who continued to spread soft caresses over your skin, his lips tracing a path of heat on your neck.

Shisui's lips found your breast, his tongue teasing your nipple as his hips continued to thrust in a deliberate rhythm. The feel of his mouth combined with the deep movements of his hips made you moan, your body trapped between them, every inch of your skin being claimed by them.

You felt each movement with overwhelming intensity, completely filled by both of them as they moved inside you with such precise synchronicity that it left you breathless. The slow, calculated thrusts seemed to have a purpose, allowing your body to adjust to the intrusion as the pressure inside you grew with each second.

Shisui held you firm against his chest, his hands sliding up your thighs with a contrasting softness to the strength of Itachi, who behind you controlled the pace with measured movements. Each time they thrust, a moan escaped your lips, as you felt them rub against each other inside you.

“More, please.” you gasped, rolling your hips in search of more. The plea that escaped your lips echoed in the air, a sound of desire that motivated them both even more. Shisui smiled against your skin, understanding your need, and began to increase the speed of his thrusts.

Itachi, sensing your impatience, adjusted his pace, causing the two of you to move in perfect harmony. The heat inside you intensified, each deep stroke causing sparks of pleasure to course through your entire body.

“That’s good, baby,” Shisui murmured, punctuating each thrust with a possessive touch as his mouth moved between your breasts, licking and nibbling at your skin.

Itachi, ever attentive, brought a hand down to stroke your clit, adding a new dimension to the wave of pleasure washing over you. “You like it like this?” he asked, his voice soft and commanding. “Yes, yes, yes,” you whimpered in pleasure.

Your response was almost a cry of need, and that only fueled the desire that burned between the three of you. Shisui held you tightly, his movements now more intense, hitting that sweet spot that made your body arch towards him.

“That’s it, baby, let go,” he murmured as his hips slammed into you, producing a wet sound that filled the air. Itachi, noticing your growing pleasure, increased the pace of his caresses on your clit, his fingers moving with precision and firmness.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Itachi said, watching as you writhed and moaned between them. The combination of their bodies, the pressure and the friction made you feel like you were about to burst, pleasure building in your belly as they both continued to take you higher.

Heat built up inside you, each thrust intensifying that feeling of fullness that was driving you crazy. Your legs wrapped around Shisui’s waist, clinging to him as Itachi continued to stimulate your clit with forceful, precise movements.

“You’re perfect,” Shisui murmured, his raspy voice filled with desire as his hips moved harder. Your body responded to his every move, feeling your walls tighten around both of them, causing a strangled moan to escape your lips.

“Give me more,” you begged, feeling the pleasure begin to consume every corner of your being. Both men looked at each other, a spark of complicity passing between them as they intensified their pace, bringing you to the edge.

“I’m so close…” you breathed out, each word laden with need. With every hip thrust and every caress of Itachi’s fingers, you knew you wouldn’t last much longer. You let yourself go, and in that instant, you decided that the only thing that mattered was this approaching ecstasy.

The waves of pleasure swept over you mercilessly, your body shaking violently as your climax washed over you, drowning your moans in an almost primal scream. The contractions inside you intensified, squeezing both men with each wave, bringing you to a place where time and space seemed to fade away.

Shisui held you firmly, making sure you didn’t collapse as Itachi continued to thrust deep, taking every moment of your ecstasy. The mix of sensations was overwhelming; The heat, the pressure, and the kisses they both bestowed upon you, all came together in a whirlwind of pleasure that left you breathless.

They both filled you, you felt your walls being stained by warm jets of semen. When Shisui and Itachi pulled out of you, you felt their seeds dripping from your pussy.

The warmth of his lips on your skin made you feel even more connected to them, as if each kiss was a silent promise of care and devotion. His hands moved slowly up your hips, drawing soft circles that sent shivers of pleasure through your still sensitive body.

“Are you okay?” Shisui asked, his voice low and full of tenderness as he looked at you with those dark eyes that seemed to understand you better than anyone else.

You nodded, feeling the mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. “Yes, more than okay.”

Itachi leaned in to kiss you again, his mouth so soft and tempting. His warm breath on your lips made you want more of them, more of that connection that had grown between the three of you. In that instant, everything that had happened before faded away, leaving you with only the desire to be here, with them, forever.

[demensrage]

f for fucking you until you lose your mind ⚊ • . with zaraki kenpachi

summary: when stress is beyond his ability to bear, kenpachi of the eleventh division must use his favorite container of semen to ease his mind.

cw: unestablished relationship, praise kink, petnames, big dick!zaraki, doggy style, fingering, oral (f. receiving), creampie.

wordcount: 4.6k

note: english is not my firts lenguage so please forgive me for the grammatical errors I may commit

© demensrage 2024. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

You always had a lot of work, especially because in the division you're part of, the work seems never to end. Having a boss with an unhealthy obsession for following the rules, there's always something to do, no matter how insignificant. I knew that being part of the Sixth Division would never be easy, especially because they always expect something from you. You don't do your job to become a captain or lieutenant; you really do it because you were chosen to be part of it.

You don't even know why you ended up in this division; you aspired to be part of the patrol corps. That way, you could legally travel to the human world without appearing as a deserter, but you don't complain. The atmosphere is good when the captain isn't lurking around, watching everyone's illicit movements, especially now that he seems to have had a reality check about how he views life. You thank Ichigo for making him see reason.

Things were starting to calm down in the Seireitei. For two months now, everything seemed lighter—less tension between the captains and more order. After the intrusion into the Soul Society, several meetings took place. From what you had heard, the surveillance forces were reinforced. Of course, they had to; some kids broke into the place believed to be impenetrable, and they must project a good image with the security changes and reinforcements, especially after Aizen and Gin's betrayal.

As you sat in the office, organizing the documents you had been given, you couldn't help but curse your luck. Renji was on a mission in the human world, which meant all his paperwork had ended up on your desk. You sighed deeply, wondering when Byakuya had decided you were more useful in the Seireitei dealing with bureaucratic tasks than on the battlefield.

Your pen glided over the reports, but your mind was elsewhere, distracted. The Seireitei was quieter than usual, and that only intensified your frustration. You had trained, you had fought, and now you felt trapped behind a desk.

You didn't even get the chance to deal with the Ryoka situation. Despite preparing for it, your captain had been clear in his decision: "I'm not going to waste your intellect on the battlefield," he had told you, as if those words were enough to quell the frustration you felt. But they weren't. In fact, they only made you feel even more trapped in this maze of papers, where your ability to fight seemed to have no value.

You looked at the pile of documents on your desk and felt a weight in your chest. You had always admired those who fought in the field, like Kenpachi, who found their greatest purpose in battle. And there you were, considered too valuable to waste on something as "mundane" as a fight, according to your captain.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the halls, and you immediately recognized who it was—that energy was unmistakable. Zaraki Kenpachi was nearby. It wasn't common for him to approach the offices, which sent a mix of curiosity and tension through your body.

The door to your office swung open abruptly, pulling you out of your thoughts. You looked up only to see his imposing figure leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, with his typical mocking smile.

"Let's go," he said, without even bothering to explain further.

The order was as direct as he was, and your heart skipped a beat. He didn't give you time to think or ask why he was there or what he wanted, though you could make a vague guess.

"Byakuya is nearby, Zaraki," you reminded him, trying to impose some logic on a situation that clearly had none. Knowing the friction between both captains, it was a bad omen for Zaraki to show up unannounced. Neither of them could stand each other, not even a little, and they avoided being near each other outside of strict work requirements.

Zaraki let out a harsh laugh, unfazed by your warning. "So what? Let him come if he wants... He could use some fun," he replied disdainfully, a dangerous spark shining in his eyes.

It was typical of him—defiant, irreverent. He didn’t care what Byakuya or anyone else thought. And although you had grown accustomed to Kenpachi’s unpredictable nature, his presence now made you feel vulnerable.

"It won't be fun if my work gets compromised," you grumbled, starting to file away the documents you'd already reviewed. You knew there was no escaping Zaraki once he'd made a decision, but that didn't stop you from expressing your frustration.

You could feel his heavy gaze on you as you continued organizing the papers, but Zaraki's impatient nature made one thing clear: if you took too long, he wouldn’t hesitate to do something even more reckless.

“Boring work,” he murmured with a mocking grin. “That’s not what defines you. Let’s go before you regret it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and though it irritated you that he barged into your space and routine, a part of you knew that going along with him would be far more exciting than the papers in your hands.

With curiosity scratching at the back of your mind, you finally set the documents aside and rose from your seat, resigned. You knew that despite your complaints, there was a part of you that couldn’t resist what Zaraki offered: an escape from the tedium, the monotony, and, above all, a dose of adrenaline.

Without saying anything more, you walked toward him, feeling the tension melt away as you left the office and ventured into the unknown. Zaraki turned around with his usual confidence and began walking without looking back, as if he already knew you would follow. After all, when Kenpachi Zaraki asked you to join him, you knew that “fun” was guaranteed, though sometimes fun with him could turn dangerously chaotic.

You had no idea how you ended up in such a compromising position, straddling his lap as his tongue roved over your skin with an insatiable hunger. He licked and sucked at the delicate skin of your breasts, barely covered by your shihakusho. The heat of his body, the wild scent that always accompanied him, and the way he engulfed you made you lose track of everything except the desire consuming you.

This wasn’t the first time you had found yourself tangled up with Zaraki like this. You’d lost count of how many times you’d woken up at his place, subjected to his will and his insatiable need to possess you.

You tried to make sense of the situation, but it was impossible. No matter how much you thought about it, you couldn’t tell whether Zaraki preferred to fight with you, fuck you, or if the two were intertwined in his mind, an extension of his untamable nature. The only thing that was clear was that when he had you like this, any attempt at control or reason was completely out of your reach.

The sound of your clothes being ripped filled the room, and the air became thick with tension. The way Zaraki kneaded your breasts, with a mixture of roughness and hunger, made a moan escape your lips. You couldn’t help it—your hands buried themselves in his wild hair, pulling him closer as his lips mercilessly claimed your flesh.

This whole situation was a damn contradiction. You had promised yourself and your principles not to get involved with him, not to fall into temptation. But the captain of the 11th Division was a walking sin, an embodiment of lust that pulled you in with just a glance. He enveloped you in his desire in the same way he did on the battlefield—with violence, with intensity, with a hunger that seemed endless.

And now here you were, completely surrendered to his touch, to the bites he planted on your nipples, sending waves of forbidden pleasure through your body.

It was messed up. Messed up because you knew you should keep your distance from him, but instead, you found yourself getting closer, relishing in the painful pleasure he provoked. You were growing feverish for him, for the man you should have kept away from, but who always dragged you into his jaws as easily as he crushed his enemies.

You explored his body with reverence, a mix of desire and submission. Every line of his tense muscles under your fingers was a reminder of the brutal strength he possessed, the same strength that now seemed to be given to you. You knew he was desperate—you felt it in the way he grabbed you, in the urgency of his hands. He always sought you when he needed instant release, when the weight of being a captain was too much, and the instinct to fight in him began to consume him.

For Zaraki, life was always a battle. And right now, this moment between your intertwined bodies was his battlefield.

Your fingers glided over his torso, tracing scars you knew well—marks from past battles that he carried with pride. Every touch seemed to ignite the fire in his eyes, and though he didn't say it, you understood what it meant. He wasn’t one for sweet words or affectionate gestures, but in these moments, when his desire overflowed, you were his escape, his way of releasing the pressure that came with being a warrior always on the edge.

Your lips brushed his neck as your hands continued exploring his skin. He growled, a low, guttural sound, and at that moment, you knew he was completely lost to you. There was no turning back. He didn’t need to tell you that right now, you were both his opponent and his release.

You arched your back as you felt him suck forcefully, sharp pleasure shooting through every fiber of your being as your nails dug into his shoulders. Zaraki was an unstoppable force, and though his desire was ravenous, there was something in the way he touched you that spoke of more than just lust. His need for you was as raw as his very nature.

To Zaraki, at first, you were just another arrogant figure, one more from the pretentious Sixth Division. The same attitude he despised in Byakuya, he thought you shared as well. He had no patience for pride games or the rigidity of rules and saw you in the same light—until he saw you fight.

That’s when everything changed. On the battlefield, far from the formalities and stiffness of your division, you had shown you were something more. He saw a spark in you that caught his attention, a fierceness he hadn’t expected to find. You weren’t as arrogant as he’d thought, not when you drew your zanpakutō and let your true instincts take over.

Your hips rolled over his hardness, feeling the pressure between you grow with every movement. The need to strip him of his clothes was almost desperate, an action seeking to release the tension building between you both. However, just as you were about to succeed, his voice echoed in the air, mocking and deep: "Anxious?"

His hands, strong and firm, trailed down your stomach, the touch sending a shiver of anticipation through your body. When his fingers slipped between your legs, an involuntary moan escaped your lips. It was a bold move, a reminder of his dominance, and at the same time, an invitation to lose yourself in the moment.

The way he touched you was both a question and a statement. His fingers explored, teased, and ignited a burning need that seemed impossible to quench. Every caress made your hips move with more urgency, an uncontrollable impulse that only intensified the tension between you.

You felt him curve his fingers inside you, pumping with a precision that stole your breath away. The pleasure hit you so intensely that your head fell back, your lips parted, releasing a raw and ragged moan that echoed in the room. Your body reacted instinctively, arching against his touch, as every movement he made caused you to tremble more.

Zaraki watched with a mix of satisfaction and hunger, his eyes locked on your expression of complete surrender. You could feel his own need growing with every passing second, but as always, he had his own pace, savoring every reaction he drew from you.

Your nails dug deep into his skin, leaving marks as you felt him lift you effortlessly, turning your body until you were lying on the bed. The moment your back hit the sheets, his hands disappeared, leaving an emptiness between your legs that made you arch desperately, seeking the pressure you had just lost.

Zaraki gave you no respite. With his gaze fixed on you, his expert hands tore off what was left of your clothes, stripping you completely in the blink of an eye. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but also eager, your body burning from the lack of contact. And like the hungry man he was, Zaraki wasted no time in taking what he wanted. He grabbed you firmly, parting your legs without consideration, opening you up for him with a brutality only he could manage, leaving you completely at his mercy, ready to be devoured.

His gaze darkened, taking in every corner of you, his heavy breathing and palpable need, and you, trembling under his control, could only wait for him to take you as only he knew how to do, with that mix of desire and savagery that left you on the edge of the abyss every time.

“First I plan to feast on this pretty little pussy you have for me,” Zaraki murmured, his voice husky and heavy with desire, as his thumb began to move firmly against your clit. The sensation shook you, making you shiver under his control. You arched into him, but he was determined to take his time, enjoying every second of your desperation.

He knelt between your spread legs, leaning over you, and began to leave kisses and bites on the soft flesh of your inner thighs. Each touch of his lips, each bite that left small marks on your skin, only increased the tension within you. You could feel his hot breath coming closer to your core, as your body responded with each caress, unable to contain the moans that escaped your lips.

You grabbed his hair tightly, pulling on it desperately, guiding it to where you wanted it most. Your body trembled, clenching in a void only he could fill, as your legs spread wider, offering yourself to him without reservation. You couldn’t think of anything but the urgent need to feel him, to have his mouth and hands tear you from the misery of waiting.

“Just a little,” you whispered, your voice cracking with desire, your hips leaning into him in search of that release he seemed to purposely deny you. Your pussy throbbed, clenching around nothing, eager for the contact Zaraki was taking his time giving you.

He placed a slow, deliberate kiss on your folds, the warmth of his mouth drawing a barely contained moan from you. His eyes lifted to meet yours, that dark gaze filled with desire. The smile that curved his lips was pure arrogance, as if he relished in your desperation, as if he knew exactly the power he had over you at that moment.

And then, without further warning, he devoured you. His mouth sank into you, his tongue moving with precision, licking and sucking every corner, drawing moans from you that you couldn’t control. The sensation shot through you like lightning, making you arch your back as your hands tangled themselves tighter in his hair, clinging to him as if he were going to consume you whole.

His tongue moved slowly but firmly, tracing every fold with a precision that made you lose your breath. The heat of his mouth and the pressure of his lips against you drew involuntary moans from you, louder and louder. Zaraki relished in every reaction from you, devouring you mercilessly, knowing perfectly how to bring you to the edge of ecstasy.

His hands held your hips in place as his tongue teased your clit, alternating between sucking and gentle licks that drove you wild. The pleasure built up, making you feel like you were going to explode at any moment. You arched into him, seeking more contact, but he remained in control, giving you exactly what he wanted and at his pace.

Every time you thought you couldn't take any more, he changed the pace, making your body tense with anticipation and desire.

You couldn't help yourself. The moment you felt his fingers sink into you with ease, you arched up and began grinding your hips against his face, seeking more of that delicious friction that was driving you crazy. The warmth and wetness of his mouth, coupled with the insistent rhythm of his fingers pumping inside you, had you losing control.

Every thrust, every movement of his, brought you closer to the edge, as your moans filled the room. Your hands were still tangled in his hair, pulling hard as you held onto the feeling he gave you, completely surrendered to the pleasure Zaraki knew how to draw from you.

Your hips moved against his mouth, feeling his tongue continue to play with your clit as his fingers curled inside you found that spot that made you tremble, making it clear that he wouldn’t let you go until he saw you completely broken by pleasure.

Zaraki growled against you as he felt your hips grind more insistently against his face, his fingers sinking deeper and moving with merciless precision. “You like it that way, don’t you?” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and laden with satisfaction. "You're so damn impatient… you can't even wait, huh?"

His words turned you on even more, and you couldn't hold back a moan as your hands tugged hard at his hair, guiding him even closer. "Shut up and keep going…" you gasped, your body shaking with every movement of his tongue and fingers. You needed it, you wanted it, and there was no turning back now.

"Always so bossy," he taunted, his cocky smirk visible even as his tongue continued to torture you, licking and sucking with more intensity. "But look at how you're begging me… you're such a slut when you're like this."

Those words made you shudder, your hips instinctively moving against him, seeking more, seeking the finish only he could give you. "Fuck, Zaraki…" you moaned, feeling his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that made you see stars.

"Do you feel it?" he murmured, his breath hot against your skin as his thumb pressed hard against your clit. “I’m going to make you cum, and you’re going to scream my name like the good girl you are.”

The combination of his mouth and fingers was too much, the pleasure building so fast you could barely think. “Yes… fuck, yes…” you moaned, your body getting closer and closer to the edge, unable to resist the absolute control he had over you.

But he had other plans for you. With one last teasing lick, he pulled away from you, leaving a void that made you moan in frustration. He looked at you with a mischievous grin as he removed his clothes, each item falling to the floor, revealing his muscled, defined body, perfectly designed for domination.

“Turn around and put that little ass up for me,” he ordered, his voice deep and full of desire. “I want to see that beautiful ass offer itself to me. Come on, I want to enjoy you.”

You didn’t have to think twice. Heart pounding, you turned around, arching your back as you lifted your hips, offering your body to his mercy.

“That’s it, good girl. Show off that perfect little ass just for me,” he said, his hands firm on your hips as he took in your exposed body. “You love it when I tell you what to do, don’t you? You know you’re mine, and I love it when you get like this.”

You nodded, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks at his words. “Yes, I love it… I want you to use me,” you replied, desire burning in your chest as you offered yourself completely.

“Perfect,” he murmured, his voice a lust-laden whisper. “I’m going to make you scream, and I want to hear you beg me for more. I just hope you’re ready for what’s coming, because I’m not holding back this time.”

Zaraki leaned forward, his warm, powerful body pressing against your back. You could feel his hardness against you, and it only increased the need burning inside you. “You’re so damn delicious,” he whispered, his hands gripping your hips as he positioned himself to enter you.

With one firm motion, he pushed his body against you, filling you completely. A deep moan escaped your lips, and you couldn’t help but press your hips back, seeking more of that sensation only he could offer. “That’s it, baby,” he said, enjoying the way you gave yourself to him. “Let me feel you clench for me.”

He continued to move inside you, his pace slow at first, but soon turning into a mix of ferocity and control. “You like it, don’t you?” he murmured, picking up speed, as his hands continued to roam every curve of your body. “Tell me. Tell me you like me using you like this.”

“Yes… yes, Zaraki,” you moaned, feeling yourself being pushed to the edge of your pleasure. “I love it… I love it when you take me like this.” Your words made him smile, and that only fueled the fire between you more.

“You’re such a good girl, always ready for what I give you,” he said, his voice deeper, as he increased the intensity of his thrusts. “Don’t play dumb, I know you want this as much as I do. Scream my name, I want to hear you break for me.”

“Zaraki…!” you cried, feeling the pleasure building in your belly, taking you to the point of no return. Each thrust made it more intense, each rub against your inner walls bringing you closer to the abyss. You knew you weren’t going to be able to hold out much longer.

Zaraki growled with a smile of pure pride as he watched you collapse onto the bed, your chest crushed against the sheets as you moaned and squealed under his control. His large, rough hands gripped your hips, making sure you couldn't escape what was to come. Every movement of his hips was calculated, searching for that perfect angle that would draw out every heart-wrenching moan he loved to hear.

Your cries of pleasure filled the room, but he only cared about one thing: getting you to the point where you couldn't think of anything but him, his hardness filling you completely.

“That’s it… stay there, hold on… you’re going to be cock drunk by the time I’m done with you,” he growled, increasing the pace until you were babbling incoherently. Your hands tried to grab onto the sheets, but you were too lost in the maelstrom of pleasure to hold on to anything. Each direct hit to your cervix drew louder cries from you, your walls clenching around him desperately.

Your eyes were completely clouded with tears of pure pleasure, you could barely see, but the sensation was overwhelming, filling you to the brim in a way only Zaraki could. Everything in you was shaking, the pressure in your belly was unbearable, and you knew you were close to breaking completely. Then, you felt him slide two of his fingers into your mouth, forcing you to taste them. The base of his cock glistened with a mix of your juices and his pre-seed.

“Look how fucking wet you are, baby,” he growled with a crooked smile, his fingers curling in your mouth, playing with your tongue as he kept up his relentless thrusts. “You know how good you make me feel, don’t you? All drunk on my cock, you can’t even think about anything else, right?”

Your eyes rolled back as you sucked on his fingers hungrily, unable to respond coherently, babbling between uncontrollable moans. Each slam against your pussy drew a gasp from you, as your inner walls tightened around him, a vicious cycle of pleasure that was tearing you apart from the inside.

And as he continued, your tears fell, your moans turning into sobs, completely lost in him, in that desperate need to feel him, to have him fill you to the point of no return.

Zaraki slowly pulled his fingers out of your mouth, leaving a wet trail as he guided them to your pussy, his large, calloused hands squeezing your bundle of nerves and pinching it. One of your hands shot up to his grip on your hip, seeking any sort of stability as he increased the force of his thrusts, making you feel every inch of his hardness sinking deeper into you.

The wet, messy sound of his thrusts filled the room, and with each movement, he ripped moans from you that could only be described as desperate. “More… please, more…” you gasped raggedly, unable to hold back the words that spilled from your lips.

Zaraki let out a husky laugh, pleased by how broken and needy you were for him. “You want more, huh?” I don't know if your body can take it, but I'm going to give you what you ask for anyway," he murmured, pressing his hands harder against your skin, lifting you up and pressing you against his body to make sure you felt every thrust deep inside you.

With each thrust of his hips, your body reacted as if it were on the verge of collapse. Your moans built into an uncontrolled crescendo, as you felt the pleasure drag you over the edge. “That’s it… keep asking, baby… I want to hear how needy you are for me to fill you,” he growled, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hip, holding you tight to sink even deeper into you.

You were completely lost, your thoughts washed away by the pleasure, and all you could do was cling to him, begging with incoherent moans and babbles, completely at his mercy, as he fucked you harder, deeper, bringing you to a point where reality and pleasure blurred into a whirlwind of intoxicating sensations.

You squeezed him tightly, feeling his seed flooding inside you, hot and thick, filling you to the brim. Pleasure washed over you, a rush of sensations that left you breathless as you rode the wave of ecstasy.

“Zaraki!” you commanded, your voice echoing with desperation and desire, as if you were trying to absorb every bit of him, every moment that belonged to you. In that instant, you felt like you would never get enough of him, of his body, of his intensity, of the way he made you forget the world and kept you completely caught up in his maelstrom of pleasure.

He let out a low, satisfied laugh as his gaze met yours, filled with arrogance and desire. “See? I told you I was going to leave you a mess, crying for more.” His hips continued to move, slow at first, enjoying every second, making sure you felt every inch of his p0ll4 still inside you, but increasing the pressure with one final movement.

“But, baby, this is just the beginning. There’s always more for you.” His tone was a whisper laden with promise, and you knew that every time you fell into his arms, you were swept away into a world where he was your only reality, where everything revolved around that intense, wild connection you shared.

The euphoria of his seed inside you transformed into a heat that left you yearning for more, and no matter how many times he filled you, there would always be an insatiable hunger for him.

[demensrage]

Castlevania / Wizard of Oz

(uploading my old work to tumblr to catch up with my other socials) Originally finished on 1/16/2021

[demensrage]

e for eager exploration ⚊ • . with harwin strong

summary: one night you decided to escape from the castle. you wanted to take a risk, living locked up in a glass bubble was tiring you. your faithful squire decides to show you the pleasures of life.

cw: dom!harwin, sub!reader, corruption kink, virgin!reader, fingering, nipple play, hickyes, oral (m. receiving).

wordcount: 9.4k

note: english is not my firts lenguage so please forgive me for the grammatical errors I may commit

© demensrage 2024. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

Your eyes followed the movements of that knight who so invaded your thoughts. You were supposed to be studying; the Septa was waiting for you, and you truly intended to go with her, but when you saw Ser Harwin leaving his father's chambers, you couldn't help but follow him.

Your steps were silent as you advanced through the halls, trying not to attract attention while you followed Ser Harwin. His imposing figure was impossible to ignore; every movement he made seemed designed to capture your attention. The simple clothes he wore, the shine of his hair in the light filtering through the windows… everything about him seemed to draw your gaze.

You hid behind a pillar when he stopped near the training yard, watching how he interacted with the other knights. The Septa would be furious if she knew you had abandoned your lessons to follow him, but at that moment, all that mattered was the warmth swirling in your stomach every time Harwin smiled or let out a deep laugh.

Without thinking twice, you moved even closer, your heart pounding against your chest. What would you think if he caught you? If he looked at you with those eyes that seemed to see through any mask you wore?

Your fixation on him had grown beyond any limit you could have imagined. It was like an invisible force pushing you to seek him, to desire to be near him, even if he barely noticed you. Each time you saw him, something inside you ignited, and that spark became a fire when your thoughts, night and day, filled with him.

You watched him during training, on walks, at formal gatherings… always from a distance, always longing. You made an effort to cross paths with him, to provoke some glance, even if it was fleeting, wishing to feel his attention on you, if only for a moment.

It was an almost painful yearning, a need you didn’t quite understand. How could someone have so much power over you without even knowing it? Harwin was a knight, a man of honor, a man who might never look at you the way you desired, but that didn’t stop you from getting lost in fantasies where his strong hands held you, where his lips brushed against yours with the intensity you imagined in every hidden glance.

It was more than desire; it was an obsession consuming your mind, guiding each of your steps toward him, no matter how much it cost you to remain on the sidelines or how much pain his apparent indifference caused you.

Harwin was not a naive man; far from it, he had always been aware of every one of your movements. He could feel your eyes on him from across the hall, how you followed him through the corridors, seeking the slightest excuse to get closer, to exchange a few words that meant much more to you than he let on. He knew you hid in the shadows during his training, watching, waiting. And although he pretended not to notice your efforts, he was always aware of your presence.

You were hidden behind a thick stone pillar in one of the less-traveled corners of the training yard, where Harwin trained alone. You bit your lip, trying not to make a sound while your eyes followed him with devotion. Your cheeks burned when you saw him remove his shirt, exposing his muscular torso, bronzed by the sun. Sweat glistened on his skin, and every time he raised his sword, the muscles in his back and arms tensed, as if every movement of his was a work of art in progress.

Your breath quickened, but you tried to maintain control, knowing that if he discovered you, you wouldn't be able to justify your presence there. Yet, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. There was something in the way Harwin moved, so confident, so strong, that left you entranced.

Your hands clung to the edge of the pillar, and you felt a tremor run through your body every time his muscles contracted. It was a vision, something almost hypnotic. The sword swung in his hands with enviable ease, and his concentration in combat made you feel invisible, as if you could watch him all day without him ever realizing your presence.

But you knew he wasn’t as oblivious to your attention as you might have thought. Even in that moment, while his eyes were fixed on the training dummy, it seemed like he knew you were there, hidden, spying on him. And that idea, that Harwin could feel your gaze upon him, made you yearn even more to be close to him, to feel the warmth of his skin and the strength that emanated from his body.

As you watched Harwin, your mind began to wander to forbidden places, to fantasies you would only dare to have in the solitude of your chamber, under the shadows of the night. If the Septa knew what was going through your head, she would be horrified. "Those are not desires worthy of a princess," she would tell you, but in that moment, you didn’t care. Your thoughts were far removed from everything you had been taught, and the mere sight of Harwin’s body intensified your desires with an urgency you couldn’t ignore.

Your dreams had become increasingly vivid. You would wake up exhilarated, your breath quickening, your body enveloped in a mix of heat and sweat. Your hands trembled, and the throbbing between your thighs reminded you just how real those longings were. You needed those dreams to become reality, for the sensations that overwhelmed you when you closed your eyes thinking of him to take form.

The desire to feel Harwin's skin beneath your fingers, to be taken by the strength that his movements conveyed, had become more than a mere fantasy. The dampness you felt between your thighs when you thought about how he would touch you, how he would claim you, tormented you, to the point where every furtive encounter with him, every glance he threw your way, seemed to stoke the fire burning inside you.

You knew these thoughts were dangerous, that if anyone found out, you would be judged, but Harwin made you feel alive in a way you had never experienced before.

The heat coursing through your body was undeniable. Your cheeks burned, and the desire swelled in every corner of your being, as if you could no longer contain it. You leaned against the cold stone wall, seeking something to help you balance the fire that raged within you, but it only seemed to fuel it further. You gripped your skirt tightly in your hands, trying to find relief, even if just momentarily, while your chest rose and fell rapidly, in rhythm with the intensity of your thoughts.

Your eyes closed for a moment, surrendering to the sensation. You felt your own heart pounding beneath your palm, as if it were responding to something more than just your emotions. In that instant, a desire washed over you that the hand you felt on your chest was his—Harwin’s. You imagined his fingers, strong and rough, tracing the contours of your skin, pressing exactly where your heart now thudded with an intensity you didn’t know how to handle.

You peeked out, just for an instant, hoping the moment would be as perfect as you had imagined. But as you did, your eyes met Harwin’s. In an instant, the world seemed to stop. His gaze, intense and penetrating, landed on you as if he could see through your darkest thoughts.

Your heart skipped a beat, and in an instinctive act, you hurried to hide again behind the pillar, feeling embarrassment wash over you. You knew you couldn’t allow him to catch you in that state, with your desires exposed like an open book. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, and as you pressed against the cold stone, you could hear the pounding of your heart echoing in your ears.

However, instead of stepping away, you heard his footsteps drawing closer. Concern and desire mingled in your chest as you tried to calm your breathing, knowing he was now aware of your presence.

“Are you there, my princess?” his voice resonated softly, a blend of curiosity and amusement. There was no anger in his tone, only a confidence that made you feel exposed, as if he could truly read what you were thinking.

You remained silent, motionless, unsure of how to respond. Guilt and desire intertwined in your mind, and the image of Harwin, strong and confident, filled your thoughts once more. You knew you couldn’t hide forever. You had crossed the line from being a mere observer to becoming the object of his attention.

“Sir Harwin,” you managed to say, trying to make your voice sound firm, though the mix of nervousness and excitement made your tone tremble slightly. Each syllable seemed to echo your own heartbeat, resonating in the air between you.

He smiled, an expression that lit up his face irresistibly. There was something playful in his gaze, as if he enjoyed having discovered your little secret. His presence was magnetic, and every inch of his figure radiated an aura of power that left you breathless.

“I didn’t expect to find a lady like you spying on my training,” he said, taking another step closer, causing your pulse to quicken. The way he pronounced “lady” sounded almost like a double entendre, a reminder of your position in the court, but his eyes conveyed something else. There was curiosity, a silent invitation to drop the masks you both wore.

You fell silent for a moment, searching for the right words. How could you justify your presence there? How could you explain that burning desire you had tried to conceal? But before you could formulate a response, he continued, his voice lower, more intimate.

“Tell me, what is it that you really desire, princess?” he asked, with a tone that promised much more than he could offer.

A shiver ran down your spine. The way he looked at you, that blend of seriousness and mischief, made you feel as if you were at the center of a game you didn’t know how to play. You could feel the heat of his presence enveloping you, and the closeness made you forget everything that had led you to hide in the first place.

“I...” you began, but the words refused to come out. It was as if the air between you had charged with a palpable electricity, and the world around you faded away.

Finally, you decided to be honest. You knew it was a pivotal moment, an opportunity you couldn’t let slip away.

“I just wanted to see you, sir,” you managed to articulate, feeling the blush creep up your cheeks. There was a fragility in your words, an honesty that resonated with the truth of your deepest desires. It was a simple statement, yet with an emotional weight that made you feel vulnerable, exposed before him.

Harwin’s smile widened, and you noticed a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes, as if your words were a personal victory. He stepped even closer, enough for you to catch his scent—a mix of sweat, earth, and a masculine fragrance that intoxicated you.

“Is that all?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, as if evaluating every nuance of your expression. His tone was playful, but there was something deeper in his gaze, a spark that ignited the emotions within you.

You felt the outside world fade away, leaving you both alone in your bubble of tension and desire. Though you wanted to be bold, a part of you feared making a misstep, so you decided to play with the sincerity of your confession.

“Yes...” you whispered, feeling the weight of vulnerability. “Seeing you makes me feel... alive.”

“Is that all?” he asked again, tilting his head slightly, his voice deeper and filled with a tone that vibrated between mockery and seriousness.

You felt the outside world dissolve, leaving you both alone in your bubble of tension and desire.

“Seeing you makes me feel... alive,” you whispered, the weight of vulnerability peeking through your words, as the air grew dense with palpable emotion.

In that moment, his eyes sparkled with something that went beyond mere curiosity.

“Alive?” he repeated, as if savoring the word, his gaze fixed on you, making your heart race. “Perhaps I should make you feel even more alive.”

You shivered, a thrill of anticipation coursing through your body. The way he looked at you, as if he could see inside you, made you feel as though every secret you had kept inside was on the verge of being revealed.

“How...?” you managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper, unsure if you wanted to know the answer or not.

Without answering, he stepped closer, bringing his face near yours. You could feel his warm breath brushing against your skin, and for a brief moment, the world around you faded away. His gaze softened, and the moment felt eternal.

“Sometimes, a simple gesture can change everything,” he murmured, and before you could fully process his words, he gently took your hand, bringing it to his lips.

With a smooth and tender movement, he pressed a soft kiss on your knuckles, a gesture so intimate that it made you gasp. The contact of his lips was electrifying, a promising bond that hinted at more.

“Take care of yourself, my princess,” he said, holding his gaze on yours for a moment longer before letting you go and stepping back, allowing the echo of his presence to fill the space he had left empty.

You stood there, still feeling the warmth of his kiss on your skin, the burning desire mingling with confusion, knowing that that brief moment had changed everything between you, leaving you yearning for more than you had ever imagined possible.

You made sure no one saw you as you left the Red Keep, ready to venture into the unknown. Your sister had spoken to you about how unreal the Silk Street was, and curiosity became impossible to resist. You wanted to see it with your own eyes, to experience it.

Night fell over the city like a dark cloak, and the flickering lights of the lanterns twinkled like fallen stars, guiding you along the path. As you turned the corner, the air became infused with intoxicating aromas: spices, exotic perfumes, and the sweetness of fresh fruits. You felt a bit like a spirit in a world where time seemed to flow differently, where the court’s norms had no place.

As you approached the Silk Street, the bustle of nightlife surrounded you. Laughter and murmurs of conversation floated in the air, mingling with the soft music emanating from the taverns. Colored lights danced on the facades of the buildings, and silk fabric waved in the shop windows, promising secrets and unexplored pleasures.

You stepped into the crowd, excitement and a slight fear bubbling inside you. Each step brought you closer to a reality you had longed for, a world where you could be more than just a princess, where you could set aside your responsibilities and allow yourself to feel.

As you walked, your eyes darted from side to side, capturing the scenes unfolding before you: merchants haggling, artists showcasing their talents, and couples surrendering to passion in the shadows. You couldn’t help but feel drawn to the vibrant life of the street, an antithesis to the rigidity of the court.

Suddenly, a booming laugh caught your attention. You turned to find a group of young people laughing and drinking, the air filled with a contagious joy.

Cautiously, you approached them, determined to see what they were laughing about. In front of them was a table where they were betting money on a card game. The excitement in the air was palpable, but as you moved deeper into the scene, the atmosphere revealed a darker side of the Silk Street. Moans surrounded you, uncontrolled laughter, and cheers mixed in a whirlwind of sensations.

The sight dazzled you; men and women lay sprawled on the ground, some drunk and laughing uncontrollably, while others seemed trapped in their own bubble of euphoria. In the corners, couples surrendered to passion, oblivious to the world around them, their bodies intertwined in a frenzied dance of desire.

The contrast between the life you had known in court and this new reality was overwhelming. You felt a mix of excitement and unease; this was a world where rules seemed not to exist. You wondered if there was more to discover, if the Silk Street would offer you an experience more intense than you had imagined.

The curious glances of those around you rested on you, recognizing the vulnerability and curiosity that radiated from you.

You realized you didn’t know anything about how to survive outside the fortress. There, everyone was protecting you, caring for the princess, the king’s youngest daughter. You had been so absorbed in the idea of escaping, of experiencing life beyond the stone walls, that you forgot Rhaenyra had gone with Daemon. He had protected her in that place, and you were alone, vulnerable in a world you didn’t know.

You had to get away from the man who was looking at you intently, so you took the edge of your cloak’s hood and adjusted it, covering as much of your face as possible, trying to go unnoticed. However, with each step you took, you felt a mix of anxiety and excitement beginning to consume your courage.

"Are you lost, my lady?" the man asked, approaching with a smile that made you frown. You turned to leave, but as you did, you collided with a broad body.

The impact was sudden, and before you could react, strong arms wrapped around you, holding you against a solid chest. You turned, and when you looked up, you found the eyes of Harwin Strong gazing at you with a mix of concern and curiosity.

"What are you doing here, so far from the castle?" he asked, his deep voice gentle yet firm, as though he was more interested in you than the commotion around you. His presence brought you a sense of safety, and though you knew you were in a dangerous place, his closeness anchored you amidst the chaos.

You felt caught between the need to reveal yourself to him and the fear of what it truly meant to be on the Street of Silk. Yet, in that moment, all you wanted was to stay there, in his arms, feeling the warmth of his body surrounding you, keeping you safe from the unsettling reality around you.

"I just wanted... to experience it," you managed to murmur, feeling your words slip out between the fast beats of your heart.

"Sometimes, experiencing things can be dangerous, especially for a princess," Harwin said, the seriousness in his tone making you feel even more exposed. But in his gaze, there was a spark of understanding, as though he too had felt the allure of the forbidden.

Harwin adjusted the hood of your cloak, ensuring you were shielded from the cold and the curious stares. Then, he took your hand firmly and began leading you through the narrow streets, his imposing figure guiding you safely.

"Let me take you back to the castle, princess," he said, his voice resonating with a blend of authority and concern, as if every step he took was for your own well-being. However, as you walked, a longing stirred within you, an impulse that resisted his intent.

You looked around; the bustling vitality of the Street of Silk was an undeniable pull, and although you knew dangers lurked around every corner, you couldn’t help it. You wanted to be there, to feel the electricity in the air, to lose yourself in the life throbbing around you. More than that, you wanted to be there with him—with Harwin.

"No..." you murmured, stopping in your tracks. His hand, still holding yours, caused him to turn toward you, his eyes locking onto yours, searching for understanding.

"What’s wrong?" he asked, his expression now filled with confusion and concern. You could see his brow furrow, as if trying to unravel your thoughts.

You felt your heartbeat in your ears, fear and excitement intertwined. It was a moment of vulnerability, but also one of boldness. Instead of yielding to his desire to take you back to the fortress, you decided to step forward, embracing the unknown.

"I want to stay here... with you," you declared, feeling the air grow heavy around you. The answer to your own words was an impulse you had never experienced before, a spark of desire that filled you with courage.

Harwin looked at you in silence, as though weighing your words, the tension between you palpable. And in that moment, the world around you faded away, leaving only the connection between the two of you. His hand still held yours, and for an instant, nothing else mattered.

Harwin shook his head, his expression serious as he maintained his firm grip on your hand. He couldn’t, wouldn’t risk tarnishing your name by letting you stay in a place like this. He knew the Street of Silk was not for you—not for the princess, not for someone of your status. As your sworn protector, it was his duty to safeguard you, not throw you into the wolf's den that waited around every dark corner of those streets.

"I cannot let you stay here," he said firmly, his deep voice echoing with the weight of an unbreakable promise. Harwin would not only protect you from others but from yourself if necessary.

However, something else flickered in his gaze. If what you wanted was to experience the world, he understood that. But not here, not like this. If there was anything he could do for you, he would, even if that meant taking you back to the only place where you'd be safe.

Before you could react, he lifted you effortlessly, throwing you over his shoulder with a strength that allowed no resistance. The air rushed from your lungs, and everything around you spun as he held you firmly. The bustle of the Street of Silk continued behind you, but at that moment, Harwin had made a decision.

"If you wish to experience the world, princess, it will not be here," he murmured as he walked with determined strides toward his horse. You knew he was doing what he believed was right, what he had to do to protect you.

He led you to where his horse awaited, and without hesitation, he carefully placed you on the saddle before mounting himself. Everything that had happened, all the tension, began to fade as he guided you back to the castle, to the place where, according to him, you belonged.

Even though your heart raced and the desire to defy fate burned within you, you knew that Harwin was doing his duty. He was your shield, your protector, and though he had taken away the freedom you sought in that moment, he gave you the safety you had always known by his side.

You remained silent as Harwin took you back to the castle, the steady rhythm of the horse's trot in sync with the rapid beating of your heart. The cool night air brushed against your face, but the only thing you could truly feel was the warmth of his strong body against yours, the protective weight of his arms ensuring your safety.

His broad chest was pressed against your back, and though your mind was clouded with the sensation of repressed desire, you also felt inexplicably secure. The heat of his body enveloped you, and for an instant, everything else—the Street of Silk, the danger, the risk—seemed to fade away.

The silence between you was profound, charged with all that was left unsaid. Every breath he took, every slight movement of his hands on the reins reminded you how close you were to him, how unbreakable his loyalty was. It was almost a sweet torture to be this close, yet so far, knowing there was an invisible barrier between what you both wanted and what duty allowed.

You looked at the door that would come between you and Harwin in a matter of seconds, a barrier that would not only divide your bodies but also the small fragment of freedom you had managed to steal during the night. Your chambers, though luxurious and worthy of a princess, felt more like a prison than a refuge. The loneliness of its walls felt crushing, and the silence became a constant reminder of how limited you were within the Red Keep.

To you, that place was not the majestic castle everyone revered; it was simply a cell, a golden cage where your desires and restlessness had no place. You felt the frustration growing in your chest, fueled by the helplessness of not being able to venture out into the world and live as you wished.

"I just wanted to see the world around me, sir," you said softly, your voice barely a whisper as your eyes remained fixed on the door, with no intention of crossing it. The weight of resignation began to fall upon you, but deep down, you resisted. You didn’t want to enter that room. You didn’t want to return to that solitude.

Harwin, who had been silent since he lifted you off the horse, observed you with a mixture of understanding and conflict. He knew that his duty was to ensure you stayed inside, to keep you away from the dangers that awaited beyond the castle walls. But he also understood your yearning for freedom, the desire for something more than the restrictions your position imposed on you.

"I know, princess," he murmured, in a tone that made you pause.

"I didn’t resist because I didn’t want to fight you," you whispered again, your eyes still fixed on the door, almost as if the mere act of looking at it bound you even more to this place. The weight of your words hung in the air, laden with emotions you had kept inside for too long. Harwin remained by your side in silence, but you could feel his intense presence, as though every word you spoke affected him in some way.

"I can’t explore the world here," you added, your voice trembling slightly as your fingers brushed against the cold metal of the handle. "A dragon is not enough for me."

The final whisper of your declaration blended with the echo of the hallway. A dragon, a symbol of power and freedom for many, but for you, it wasn’t enough. Not when the invisible chains of your position and responsibilities weighed so heavily on your shoulders. Not when every corner of the castle reminded you of what you couldn’t have.

Harwin watched you in silence, his deep eyes searching yours, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words. He understood better than anyone the limitations of your life, though he could never experience them in the same way. But at that moment, as you stood motionless before the door to your chambers, there was a shared truth between you both: you longed for more, and he knew it.

"This isn’t my world, Harwin," you added, still without looking at him. "And yet, I’m trapped in it."

Harwin stepped toward you, his intense gaze locked on yours, as if he were waiting for you to say something else, something both of you knew hung in the air but hadn’t yet been spoken. His presence enveloped you, and you felt your heart race. The weight of the question still hung between the two of you, charged with an electric tension.

"What is it you truly desire, princess?" His voice was deep, low, almost a whisper that slipped under your skin.

Your breath caught for an instant, your lips trembling as you tried to process his words. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, the blush betraying you as you finally decided to respond. The words seemed to burn inside you, but you needed to say it.

"You…" The confession escaped your lips before you could stop it, and just saying it out loud made the blush on your cheeks deepen.

You didn’t need to say more; the latent desire in the air was evident. You had always wanted him. You had wanted him from the first moment you saw him, from the first time you felt his gaze pierce through you, making you feel vulnerable but also filled with a curiosity you couldn’t ignore.

Harwin smiled, just a slight curve of his lips, but his eyes glimmered with something darker, something that seemed to ignite with every word you had spoken. There was something about you, that curious innocence, the pure and unexplored desire that drew him in. He looked at you as if you were a flame he was willing to feed, a light he wanted to mold, to corrupt… in the best possible way.

"Me?" he repeated, stepping closer, his hand rising to gently brush your cheek, the touch so light you barely felt it, but enough to make your whole body tense.

Your eyes met his, the desire burning within you was palpable, but at the same time, there was a vulnerability, an innocence he longed to explore, something that made him want you even more. Harwin had always had that inclination, a taste for the forbidden, for the pure he could turn into something of his own, something dark and thrilling.

"You know you shouldn’t say things like that…" His husky voice slid across your skin like a caress. "But I’m glad you did."

Your lips parted slightly, your breath coming in short gasps as he drew even closer, his fingers tracing a slow line from your cheek to your neck. The sensation made you shiver, but it wasn’t fear you felt; it was a deep yearning for something you couldn’t explain, something only he seemed able to give you.

"If you truly desire me…" he continued, his lips just inches from yours, "then you’ll have to understand that once we start, there’s no turning back."

His voice, his proximity, everything about him called to you. You were trapped between the desire to explore the unknown and the sweet anticipation of what might come. And the worst—or perhaps the best—was that Harwin knew exactly what he wanted. He desired you in a way only he could understand, and you, curious and innocent, were willing to surrender yourself to that dangerous game.

Harwin’s hand slid down to yours, his fingers intertwining with yours. Slowly, he brought your hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours.

"But if you truly want what you say..." he whispered against your skin, "I promise I'll give it to you. Everything."

You invited him into your chambers, excitement pounding in your chest. The door closed softly behind him, sealing off the outside world and creating a space just for the two of you. The air became thick, full of expectation and a faint tinge of fear, but most of all, desire.

The room was dimly lit, the candlelight dancing on the walls, casting shadows that seemed to play with the intimacy of the moment. You turned to Harwin, and in that instant, all the curiosity you had felt for so long intensified. What was that "everything" he had promised? You felt like an explorer, ready to discover uncharted territory, and he, the guide who would lead you through the adventure.

"What will you offer me, Sir Harwin?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper, baring your vulnerability and desire.

Harwin took a step forward, his presence overwhelming. The tension between you grew, and you could feel it like a thin thread threatening to snap at any moment. But instead of retreating, you decided to move forward, determined to discover where this new reality would lead you.

"I'm going to show you what true desire is, what it means to explore the world around you," he responded, as he began to unfasten your cloak, letting the fabric fall to the floor, revealing your figure in the dim light.

He captured you with his gaze, and without thinking, you stepped closer. Harwin, reveling in the power he had over you, let your cloak fall and, with his hand, began to loosen your beautiful white hair, letting it cascade like a river of silk over your shoulders.

"Everything you've ever desired, princess," he said, as he traced a finger along the line of your neck, slowly descending toward your chest, where your blouse covered the breasts that longed to be discovered.

Your heartbeat echoed in your ears, and the mix of anticipation and nervousness felt like an electric current. You knew that what you were about to do was not just an act of curiosity, but a leap into the unknown. But with Harwin by your side, you felt safe.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his eyes filled with a fire that promised adventures beyond what you had imagined.

You nodded, unable to find the words. There was no turning back, and deep down, you knew it. But there was a part of you that craved that "everything," the part that wanted to discover what it truly meant to be free, to be yourself, far from the expectations that weighed on your shoulders.

Harwin left a soft kiss on your cheek, barely brushing your lips, a gesture that left you longing for more, craving everything he promised with that touch. As he pulled back slightly, his eyes met yours, dark and filled with palpable need. His gaze, firm yet seductive, roamed over your body with an intensity that made you shiver.

"Undress for me, princess," he commanded softly, his voice hoarse with expectation.

The heat that filled you intensified, and your hands trembled slightly as you began to comply with his request. His words, so simple, held a power over you that you had never felt before. The dress you wore seemed like a barrier between the two of you, one he wished for you to remove. With your gaze locked on his, you untied the knot of your cloak, letting it fall to the ground, and began to unbutton the top of your dress.

Each movement was slow, deliberate, laden with the tension of the moment. Harwin never looked away, watching intently as you slowly revealed your skin, exposing what only he had the privilege to see.

With each piece of clothing that fell, you felt the distance between you vanish, the latent desire in his eyes enveloping you like a flame. Finally, when the last piece of fabric slid down your skin, you stood before him, vulnerable and exposed, but without fear. You surrendered completely to that moment, knowing there was no turning back.

"Perfect," he murmured to himself, his voice barely a whisper.

Harwin wasted no time. His strong hands slid confidently over your body until they found your breasts, taking them firmly, as if they had always been his. His touch was raw, unrestrained, and each caress sent waves of pleasure through you, making you arch involuntarily toward him.

His fingers found your nipples, hardened under his touch, and he began to play with them, gently tugging, pinching, and rolling them between his fingers, teasing you with a mix of pain and pleasure that left you breathless. Every movement, every pressure, ignited something deep within you, a desire you couldn’t control.

His eyes, fixed on yours, left no doubt of his intentions. Every action was calculated, every touch aimed at exploring your limits, and you, completely surrendered, felt how desire consumed you.

The sensation far surpassed any fantasy that had ever invaded your mind in the solitude of your chambers. Feeling his hands on your skin, the firmness of his touch, was incomparable. Every pinch, every caress made you tremble with desire, as if your entire body had been designed to react only to him.

Your body moved on impulse, eager for more, desperate to experience everything he had to offer. You leaned into Harwin, seeking his mouth with a sense of urgency. You needed him closer, his warmth, his strength, but most of all, you needed the taste of his lips claiming yours.

Your hands clung to his neck, pulling him toward you. Harwin, offering no resistance, allowed you to close the gap, and when his lips finally met yours, the world seemed to disappear. The kiss was neither gentle nor tender. It was searing, intense, as if both of you had been waiting for this moment for far too long. His tongue invaded with possession, and you surrendered entirely, lost in that kiss that burned like uncontrollable fire.

His hands, still playing with your breasts, continued their relentless teasing as he kissed you, squeezing harder, pulling moans from you that you couldn't hold back. This was more than any dream, more than any repressed desire.

Harwin let one of his hands leave your breast, only to entangle it firmly in your hair, pulling with absolute control, making your body arch toward him without resistance. The gesture was as dominant as you had imagined, intensifying the kiss until you could hardly breathe. His tongue ravaged your mouth with wild passion, claiming you in a way you had never experienced before.

With a decisive movement, Harwin began to move away from your lips, tracing a path of open-mouthed kisses along your jawline, each contact laden with a promise of what was to come. His wet lips moved slowly downward, leaving scorching traces on every inch of your skin. When he reached the soft curve of your neck, his pace shifted. He wasn’t gentle. He bit softly at first, then his lips pressed hard against your sensitive skin, sucking forcefully, leaving visible marks, hickeys that would betray his claim on you.

The heat coursing through your body had you on the verge of exploding, and each mark he left on your neck was a reminder of who controlled every second of this moment. Harwin growled close to your ear, feeling how you responded to every touch, how you melted under his control.

"That’s how I like to see you, completely mine" he murmured in a hoarse voice, not letting go of your hair as he continued to claim every inch of skin he encountered.

Without stopping his assault on your neck, Harwin let his hands roam down your body, his fingers tracing the outline of your curves with a mix of possession and desire. Finally, his hands found your thighs, gripping them firmly, and without any effort, he lifted you, carrying you as if you weighed nothing. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your body now completely at his mercy.

You felt the pressure of his chest against you, and the friction of your wet pussy against the piece of fabric separating you from him sent a wave of pleasure straight to your core.

"So good for me…" Harwin murmured with a mix of adoration and lust, his voice rough as he claimed your lips again with searing intensity. The kiss was fierce, as if he were devouring you, and the world around you faded until only he remained, his body, his mouth, and the way he made you feel completely his.

Effortlessly, he sat you down on the bed, his strong hands holding you in place while his lips never left yours. The heat from his body flooded into yours, and the way he looked at you, as if you were the most precious thing in his world, made you tremble with desire.

Every move he made was controlled, deliberate, but filled with a passion that only he could awaken in you. The brush of his tongue against yours, the slight pull on your hair as he tilted your head to deepen the kiss, all of it was done with the intent of making you surrender completely.

His hands began to explore once more, sliding down your sides until his thumb stroked the small of your back, pulling you closer to him as you sat there, trapped between his body and the edge of the bed.

"Open your legs for me, darling," Harwin whispered, his voice thick with desire, but also laced with that authority that made your muscles respond without a second thought. He looked at you intently, his dark eyes fixed on yours as he gave that bold command.

The tone of his voice sent a shiver down your spine, straight to your core, making your hands clutch at the fabric of the bed as you slowly obeyed.

His hands traveled down to your thighs, caressing them firmly, parting them with an ease that only showed how little control you had in that moment. The brush of his fingers against your exposed skin made your breath catch, as he undressed you not only physically but stripped away any trace of innocence you had left.

Every inch of space you created between your legs made him smile, that dark smile that promised to give you far more than you could have ever dreamed.

His gaze roamed over every part of you as he leaned forward, brushing his lips against yours again, but not kissing you yet. He held you in that point of delicious tension, relishing the way you gave in completely to his desires.

The glint in Harwin’s eyes intensified as your thighs parted for him, revealing the purity he so desired to corrupt. He knew you were his to mold, that every touch, every word, would bring you to the edge of something unknown and tantalizing. That mix of innocence and submission in you excited him like nothing else, and your shaky voice, those little moans you couldn’t hold back, only made him want more.

His hand ran along the inside of your thighs with torturous slowness, barely brushing the skin, causing a sigh to escape your lips. Your body had never been touched like this; you had never allowed a man to cross those boundaries. But with Harwin, you wished he would. Every part of you screamed for more, to feel his fingers where you had never allowed them.

“You’re so pretty… and all for me,” he murmured, his voice husky, as he slid one of his fingers into your center, caressing your hole, making you desperate for more. Your hips instinctively moved towards him, seeking more of that touch you had only dreamed of feeling.

With a dark, seductive smile, he slid his finger inside your dripping hole, touching you. The first direct brush of his fingers on your wetness tore a moan from your lips, and he, pleased with your reaction, began to move slowly, exploring every part of you as he listened to every sound you made.

His fingers went deeper, touching you with that mix of firmness and sweetness that only he knew how to handle. The control he exerted over you was absolute, and he relished watching you give in to every touch, your voice grow more vocal, more desperate, as he taught you what it meant to be his.

Your words were incoherent, filled with desire, and every moan, every gasp, only goaded him to go deeper, to claim you as his.

The rhythm of his fingers began to become rawer, firmer. Your thighs began to tremble involuntarily, the new, overwhelming pleasure making you try to close your legs, as if your body, in its innocence, wanted to stop what was happening, but Harwin wouldn’t let you.

“What’s wrong, princess?” he asked with a dark smile, as he used one of his hands to spread your legs wider, holding them firmly in place. “Are you scared? No, don’t close your legs… I know you like it, I can feel it.”

“Harwin… please…” you whispered between gasps, your voice a shaky echo of what you used to be. It was overwhelming, that mix of pleasure and shame, but you didn’t want it to stop.

“That’s it. Let yourself go,” he murmured, leaning in closer to kiss your neck, gently biting your skin between his words. “I want you to cum just for me.”

His words were the spark that ignited the explosion inside you, and you felt yourself overwhelmed with pleasure as your climax hit you. Your legs shook, trying to close from the intensity, but Harwin held them wide open, allowing all the pleasure to course through you unrestricted as his fingers remained inside you, guiding you through the swell of your orgasm.

Harwin slowly withdrew his fingers from inside you, watching with an intensity that made you feel vulnerable and exposed. His eyes roamed over your body with a mix of possessiveness and admiration, lingering on your flushed cheeks and the way your legs still trembled, spread wide for him.

“Look how beautiful you are,” he said, his voice soft but charged with power. “So sweet… and just for me.” He pulled away just enough to get a better look at you, his gaze scanning every corner of your skin. You felt completely his under that scrutiny, aware of how your body responded to him, how your breathing remained ragged as the heat of the moment still resided in the air.

“This is how I want you,” he murmured, as he ran his thumb along your bottom lip, enjoying the spectacle in front of him. “Open and ready to be mine.”

You blushed even more at his words, unable to help the blush that spread across your skin. There was something about the way he looked at you, as if you were already completely his, that made you feel safe and, at the same time, vulnerable.

Harwin, with slow deliberation, began to undress, stripping off his shirt while you couldn’t take your eyes off his torso. That same skin that you had so often silently admired, was now exposed before you, every muscle taut, sculpted, and vibrant under the dim light of the room. The air felt thicker the moment you saw him—pointing in your direction, thick and firm.

A stifled moan caught in your throat. Doubt immediately assaulted your mind: that couldn’t possibly enter you, you thought. There was no way your body could handle it.

However, as your mind struggled with the idea, your body reacted in a completely different way. Your lips grew moist on their own, and without realizing it, you had slowly licked yourself, your thoughts being replaced by an overwhelming feeling of curiosity and desire. You sat up on your legs, your breathing quickening as you watched him with an intense gaze.

Your eyes locked on him, eager and filled with curiosity, as you imagined what could happen. Every inch of him seemed more tempting than the last. Your heart was pounding, but it wasn’t nervousness that was taking over, but desire. That insatiable curiosity you had always felt for him was pushing you for more. You wanted to feel it, taste it.

Your eyes couldn't tear themselves away from his body, and a fleeting thought crossed your mind, causing a shiver to run down your spine. You wanted to lick him.

You bit your bottom lip, heat rising up your chest and throat, leaving you breathless. Your cheeks burned, tinted red, as your hands trembled slightly as they brushed against his skin. That desire, uncontrollable and overwhelming, grew within you.

Your fingers, initially timid, slid over his torso, moving down to wrap around him with firm pressure. He was thick, warm, pulsing against your palm. The touch alone made a moan catch in your throat, but you swallowed it back, letting the anticipation consume you.

Without further delay, you leaned forward, and with your tongue barely brushing his skin, you began to trace it. The salty taste of his skin invaded your senses as your lips slowly enveloped him. You felt Harwin tense, his hand burying itself in your hair, guiding you without a word, but the pressure on the back of your neck said it all: he wanted more.

Your tongue traced a wet path from base to tip as he let out a low growl, his abdomen tightening at the intensity of the moment. With each movement of your mouth, the heat grew between your legs, your own body responding to Harwin’s every reaction, knowing you were taking him to the edge.

Harwin tightened his hand in your hair, taking control of your every movement with a commanding yet restrained firmness. His breathing became heavy, his eyes dark as he watched you, making sure you felt him completely. He pulled your head back slightly, making you look into his eyes.

“Relax, princess,” he murmured in a deep, almost husky voice as he moved your lips deeper over him, setting the pace he desired. His hips rocked slowly, controlling each thrust as he guided you, making sure you took more with each movement.

You felt his thickness pressing against the back of your throat, and every time you tried to pull back a little to take a breath, he pulled you back in, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. Your body trembled at the mix of submission and pleasure, as the heat between your legs became unbearable.

“Like that, good girl,” Harwin whispered with satisfaction evident in his voice. With each word, his movements became slower but deeper, keeping you at that point where control was completely his. “Keep going… don’t stop.”

Tears began to pool in your eyes, the pressure and intensity of the sensation almost overwhelming. With each thrust from Harwin, your throat tightened, the sound of your labored breathing echoing in the air. It was an aching pleasure, a mix of humiliation and desire that kept you on the edge of insanity.

Your body reacted to every pull and thrust, even as tears silently fell down your cheeks. The heat of his body, the intensity of his gaze, it all made you feel alive, but also vulnerable. You tried to close yourself off, but he only tightened his hold, trapping you between his strength and the soft surrender of your body.

Your hands clenched tightly on the edge of the bed, your knuckles turning white from the force of keeping yourself balanced. You felt the tip of his cock hit against your throat, one of your hands shooting up to his thigh, feeling the firmness beneath your palm.

“God…!” he breathed out in a broken whisper, his voice thick with desire and desperation. The intensity of his words filled you with deep satisfaction; you knew you had him on the edge. With each stroke of your tongue, you felt his body tense, writhing, wanting more.

Then, in a moment of pure surrender, he gave himself over to the sensation, his body shuddering in a powerful climax. The explosion of his seed filled your mouth, a warm, salty taste that made you moan in pleasure. Though the surprise caught you off guard, the need to swallow it all was overwhelming, and you let yourself go, enjoying every drop that emanated from him.

With one last, deep suck, a pop resonated as it left your lips, the sound filling the room with an echo of satisfaction. You pulled away from him, feeling the cool air caress your hot face, as you sat back down on your legs. Your lips were red and swollen, as if you had been at war, and a drop of his essence slowly trickled down your chin, leaving an obvious trail of what you had just experienced.

You looked up, meeting his gaze, which was now filled with desire and admiration. The way he watched you made you feel powerful and vulnerable at the same time. Every movement of his body reflected the need that still vibrated in the air between you, a palpable reminder of what you had just shared.

“See what you can do to me?” Harwin said, his voice low and heavy with desire. He moved a little closer, the air between you thick with the electricity of what had just happened. Your heart was pounding, and the anticipation of what was to come next made you hold your breath.

Without thinking, you brought a hand to your face, wiping the drop of his essence away with a finger, only to bring it to your lips and taste it once more. You blushed, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Desire burned within you, a flame that only he could fan. The night had only just begun, and you both knew there was so much more to discover.

[demensrage]

d for deep investigation ⚊ • . with albedo

summary: your altruistic personality always leads you to be a people pleaser, that's why you didn't refuse when your coworker asked you to help him with his little anatomy research

cw: unestablished relationship, fingering, oral (f. receiving), blindfold play, protected, slight power play, nothing explicir.

wordcount: 4.3k

note: english is not my firts lenguage so please forgive me for the grammatical errors I may commit

© demensrage 2024. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

The atmosphere in Albedo's research room always had an air of tranquility, almost mystical, as if time flowed differently within its walls. The alchemy tools were meticulously arranged on the stone tables, and jars filled with ingredients of all kinds gleamed under the dim light of the lamps. You sat there, observing the familiar space, but your mind couldn’t stop wandering. What could be so urgent that Albedo had sent you a letter so suddenly?

You knew your companion had a tendency to oscillate between the most mundane requests and those of overwhelming complexity. You had spent entire days helping him collect simple plant samples or calibrate his tools, only to find yourself later submerged in arcane experiments that bordered on the limits of science and magic. Nothing was predictable with Albedo, and that, in part, was what kept your curiosity always alert.

The echo of your own thoughts resonated in the room as you patiently waited for his arrival. The letter you received that morning still rested in your pocket, and every now and then, you touched it, as if by doing so, you could obtain some additional clue. “It’s urgent,” he had written, but without any further details. Albedo wasn’t one to be swayed by emotions or unnecessary alarms, so if he considered it urgent, it had to be something truly important.

As soon as Albedo entered the room, you stood up immediately, almost without thinking. You didn’t want him to think you had been wasting time, even if all you had done was wait. You always strove to meet his expectations, and though he never directly asked you to, you felt that internal pressure to measure up, to be useful. You were surprised at how quickly you had reacted, but it was natural for you.

Albedo approached with his usual calm, and his gaze lingered on you for a moment, as if analyzing your every move, just as he always did. It wasn’t a critical look, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being evaluated, which only increased your desire to be as perfect as possible in every small detail.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” he said, his voice soft but with a touch of seriousness. “I have something important to do, and I need you for it.”

There was something in the way he said it, something deeper than the words themselves. Your breathing slowed slightly, as if your body sensed that the conversation was about to take an unexpected turn. Albedo moved toward one of the tables, and you watched as his hands slid gently over the instruments. There were no potion jars or herbs this time, just sheets of paper and some sketches, but as you got closer, you noticed that the drawings were not of plants or creatures. They were anatomical sketches, detailed and meticulous.

As you approached the table to examine the drawings more closely, something in them stopped you cold. These were not simple anatomical studies like the ones you had seen before. You recognized the proportions, the delicately drawn lines. It was your body depicted on those pages, recreated with a precision that left you breathless. Albedo had spent hours, perhaps days, studying every detail of your figure, every muscle, every curve, with a meticulousness that was both scientific and... personal.

Your mind began connecting the dots, a subtle current of understanding coursing through your body. Suddenly, all those times Albedo had touched you, those soft brushes on your hands, on your arms, took on a new meaning. There was always an excuse: adjusting a tool, helping you hold a jar, correcting your posture while you worked. But now you understood. Those small touches hadn’t been random; they had been pretexts, opportunities to observe, to learn from you, to study every inch of your skin with a purpose that you were only now beginning to comprehend.

“I have something important to do, and I need you for it.”

Albedo’s words echoed in your head, clearer now. It hadn’t been a request but a declaration of the inevitable. He had already decided, and you were destined to be part of it. His eyes, normally so calm, now seemed filled with an almost unsettling fascination, his pupils dilated as he observed you, as if he was anticipating something only he could see clearly.

“I see you’ve noticed already,” Albedo said, his voice soft but laden with a meaning you couldn’t ignore. There was no need for him to explain; everything was clear now. This wasn’t just a study of human anatomy. It was a study of you.

The silence between the two of you grew denser, almost tangible. Your thoughts raced wildly, but at the same time, something kept you anchored in that room, in that strange and subtle dynamic between the two of you. You had always wanted to be useful, to live up to Albedo’s expectations, and now, here you were, facing a situation you hadn’t anticipated, but one that had seemed inevitable from the start.

"It’s a study that requires something more... practical,” he continued, his eyes never leaving yours. He hadn’t touched you again since you entered the room, but now you understood that he didn’t need to. He already knew you better than you had imagined.

And as his words hung in the air, you knew that the line between apprentice and experiment had blurred, that in this “delicate process” he mentioned, you were both subject and collaborator.

"How practical?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper as you watched him approach slowly. The air became thicker, as if everything in the room had frozen except for him, moving with the calculated calm that had always defined him.

Albedo didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he walked around you, circling you with the same precision he applied in his experiments, his steps soft yet firm, making you feel like you were the center of his attention in a way you had never experienced before. His presence felt more intense, almost as if something within him had been waiting to be released.

When he positioned himself behind you, your heart began to beat faster, and before you could fully process the sensation, you felt his hands rise toward your hair. Gently, he brushed aside the strands that fell across your neck, the touch of his fingers sending a slight shiver down your spine.

The pads of his fingers grazed your skin, just a faint caress, but enough to make your breathing slow, more aware of every movement. "As practical as necessary," he murmured by your ear, his voice low, filled with the same intensity you had seen in his eyes.

His fingers traced the curve of your neck, studying every small detail with a familiarity that now felt undeniable. This wasn’t the first time he had done this, not with the subtle pretexts he always found to touch you. But this time there were no excuses, no tools or experiments to justify it. This time, the contact was direct, raw, and for the first time, you were completely aware of the nature of his attention.

“I suppose I can help you,” you said, though your words came with a slight frown, reflecting the hesitation creeping in. Albedo, ever observant, noticed that moment of doubt in your voice, in your expression. His hands, still resting on your neck, stopped entirely, as if he wanted to ensure you understood the gravity of what he was asking.

He didn’t move further. Instead, his eyes focused on yours, searching for something beyond mere verbal acceptance. “I want you to fully agree to this,” he said in a quieter tone, almost like an intimate whisper, but laced with seriousness. You knew that behind his curiosity and scientific studies lay an ethic he would never cross without your explicit consent. Though he could be cold and distant in many ways, this wasn’t one of them.

The moment stretched on, his words suspended between the two of you like an open question, yet charged with intention. He needed to be sure not just that you were allowing him to continue, but that you were willing, that you understood the implications of his request. He didn’t just want your help; he wanted your total approval, your voluntary submission to his study.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, the lingering touch of his fingers still burned softly on your skin, a constant reminder of what he was asking of you. The sketches of your body still lay on the table, and the image of them remained fixed in your mind. This wasn’t just another anatomical study—it was something far more personal. And now it was clear that he knew. He knew you had noticed his touches, his excuses... and now everything was out in the open.

“Will you let me use your body?” Albedo whispered against your ear, his voice low and enveloping, as if the very air had stopped to listen to his proposal. "Will you give it to me at my mercy? I promise to take care of you, I always do."

There was a strange truth in his words, a certainty you had never questioned before. Albedo had always protected you, in subtle but constant ways. In every experiment, in every lesson, he had always ensured you were safe. He had given you his knowledge, his time, and now... he was asking for something more.

“Yes,” you finally whispered, barely recognizing your own voice. The word came out softer than you had expected, but once you said it, you knew it was what you wanted. Not just from a need to please him, not just from the desire to help him in his research, but for something deeper, something that had been growing inside you without you realizing it.

Albedo remained silent for a moment, as if letting the decision settle between the two of you. Then, you felt the atmosphere change, the intensity in his gaze, in his gestures, taking on a new dimension. His hand, still resting on your neck, slid down, caressing the base of your nape with a care that felt almost reverent. There was no rush in his movements, only infinite patience, as if he were savoring every second of your consent.

"Good," he said softly, his tone lower, almost like an intimate whisper that only you could hear. "I knew I could count on you."

You were sitting naked in front of him, a blindfold covering your eyes, immersed in the dimness of the research room. The atmosphere was charged with a mix of excitement and tension, and although you couldn’t see, your other senses became sharper. You could hear the sound of his pen scratching against the paper, the soft scrape of ink flowing over the canvas. Each stroke seemed to vibrate in the air, as if telling a story that only he could understand.

Intrigue enveloped you, but the anticipation intensified as you felt his footsteps approach you. His presence was palpable, a contrast to the darkness surrounding you.

The way his hands enveloped your breasts was both delicate and possessive, an electrifying combination that sent waves of heat throughout your body. You could feel the softness of his skin against yours, the warmth of his palms fitting perfectly to your curves. Each movement was a game of exploration, as if he were discovering uncharted territory.

At first, there was a kind of reverence in his touch, as if he were trying to memorize every contour, every texture. But as his hands moved with more confidence, that reverence transformed into palpable desire. His fingers sank into your skin, caressing you with an intensity that made your breathing become erratic. Each stroke was a small flash of pleasure, each caress a reminder of your vulnerability and submission.

The blindfold over your eyes heightened every sensation; the lack of sight made you more aware of his presence, of his warmth, of how his body drew closer to yours.

Several gasps escaped your lips as his fingers tugged at your nipples, a gesture as unexpected as it was pleasurable that left you trembling. “I’ve heard that a certain part of you is sensitive,” he murmured, his voice low and controlled, almost clinical, but with an intensity that hinted at a deeper desire.

It wasn’t just an observation, it was an affirmation that pierced your skin and lit a flame within you. Albedo’s touch, once meticulous and calculated, had become firmer, more intentional. And as his fingers continued to play with your nipples, pulling and kneading with that perfect combination of pressure and subtlety, heat began to course through your body.

You knew that Albedo wasn’t like the others. While the others simply passed through your life without further ado, he only cared about you. And in that moment, there was no one else in his world, no one else in his mind, only you. His concentration, his attention, was focused entirely on your body, on every reaction he managed to elicit from you with his expert caresses.

You felt the heat rise from your neck to your cheeks, and that feeling of shame, mixed with excitement, left you breathless. The blush that stained your skin was only an external reflection of the growing desire that took hold of you, one that was beginning to feel impossible to ignore. Moisture pooled between your legs, clear evidence of what his touch was causing in you.

The kisses on your neck came unexpectedly, soft at first, like a barely perceptible whisper on your skin. Albedo, with a precision that only he could have, knew exactly where to place each kiss, as if he had studied every corner of your body in advance. His warm breath slid over your skin, causing an electric current to run up your spine.

As his lips continued to trace a burning path over your neck, his hands began to slowly slide downwards, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. The way Albedo moved, with such precision and control, made every second feel like an eternity, every touch a reminder that you were completely under his influence.

When his hands finally reached your belly, they paused for a moment, as if he wanted to make you aware of what was about to happen. The air between you became thick, charged with expectation, and although you couldn't see him because of the blindfold on your eyes, you felt every movement, every breath he took.

Then, with the same confidence he had shown from the beginning, his fingers continued their descent, until they gently brushed the moisture that had gathered between your legs. The first contact was delicate, almost experimental, as if he were testing the effect he had on you. But as soon as he noticed your body's immediate response, the tension that built up in your thighs, his movements became more determined.

His fingers entered without warning, curling immediately with clear intent. There was no room for gentleness. Albedo knew what he was looking for and found it quickly, his movements precise, but with a firmness that stole your breath.

Every time his fingers flexed inside you, they hit that spot that lit an insatiable fire inside you. He didn't stop, he didn't hesitate. His pace increased mercilessly, with one goal: to take you to the edge.

Gasps escaped your throat, as his hand kept you immobilized. There was no escape. Heat grew violently in your belly, as his fingers continued to work, relentless, curling at the perfect angle to draw out every moan from you.

He knelt in front of you with crushing confidence, his hands still working relentlessly, keeping you trapped in a spiral of pleasure. The intensity of his movements made you tremble, but Albedo showed no sign of stopping. From this new position, he was in complete control, and he knew it.

“You feel so warm,” Albedo murmured in a husky voice, his breath caressing the skin of your thighs as his fingers continued to work inside you, never slowing down. The firmness of his touch and the way his words reached you made the heat in your body rise uncontrollably, enveloping you completely.

One of his hands held your legs apart with a firm, almost dominant force, making sure you couldn’t move or close up. The control he exerted over your body was absolute, and he did it effortlessly, as if it were the most natural thing for him. His grip tightened every time your legs trembled, resisting the urge to close up at the intensity of his caresses.

As his fingers sank again and again inside you, his other hand held your thigh firmly, preventing any attempt to push you away, as if you were his most fascinating experiment. There was no escape, and deep down, you didn’t want to escape.

“You sure taste delicious,” Albedo murmured, his lips brushing the skin of your belly with a heat that made you arch involuntarily. Every kiss he planted on your skin felt like a promise, an anticipation that burned you from within. His tongue barely touched your skin, and the tingle spread like liquid fire through your body.

“Let me taste you, precious?” he asked, his voice thick with desire, a dark, hungry glint in his eyes as his lips came dangerously close to the place you wanted him most.

The lump in your throat barely let you speak, but your lips formed the words almost instinctively. “Yes… do it.” The hesitation you felt before vanished completely, replaced by the all-consuming heat. Your body no longer belonged to you, and you knew it.

Shamelessly, you spread your legs wider, offering yourself without any reservation, making it clear that you were completely at his mercy. The reaction was immediate: a spark of satisfaction crossed his eyes at the sight of your total submission.

He knew exactly what you wanted, he had seen it in the way your legs spread wider, offering themselves without any shame, and he was more than willing to give it to you. There was no rush in his movements; Albedo enjoyed prolonging the moment, savoring the anticipation that grew between you. His smile was just a trace of the satisfaction he felt at having you like this, at his mercy, vulnerable and exposed before him.

Without taking his gaze off of you, he leaned forward, letting his breath brush your skin, sending shivers throughout your body. The first touch of his mouth was slow, almost torturous, as if he wanted to make you beg for more, but deep down you knew you didn’t have to ask for it. Albedo had already decided he would give it to you, he was just enjoying the control he had over your every reaction.

When he finally let his lips reach you, there was no more gentleness. It was with a mix of intensity and hunger, as if he was determined to explore every corner of your body until you couldn't hold back your cries of pleasure.

His lips moved with precision, exploring every corner of you as if he were mapping out a map, as if every shudder and moan he elicited was a confirmation of his success. There was no softness in his touch, only a hungry intensity that left you trembling, at the mercy of his calculated movements and absolute dominance over your body.

Albedo alternated between caresses and kisses, his tongue following a relentless rhythm that drew uncontrollable gasps from your lips. Your entire body arched beneath him, seeking him out, while his hands kept your hips fixed, making sure you couldn't escape the growing pressure building inside you.

It was like he knew exactly how far to push you, like he was playing with your limits just to watch you succumb, giving you everything you wanted without giving you control over when or how you would receive it. And in that moment, amidst the heat that washed over you, you realized that he had been waiting for this, to see you like this—given over, lost in the pleasure he himself gave you, without reservations or barriers.

Unable to contain yourself, you buried your hands in his hair, holding on tight as your hips instinctively moved against his mouth. Pleasure built up with every flick of his tongue, every firm caress of his lips, and you could no longer maintain your composure. Your fingers tangled in his golden locks, tugging lightly, searching for something to hold on to as he continued to devour you mercilessly. Feeling your touch, Albedo let out a soft growl against you, the vibration sending a shiver through your entire body. His hands, strong and sure, held your legs open, making sure you couldn't escape or resist the pleasure he offered you.

"Delicious… oh fuck, so delicious," Albedo murmured against your skin, his deep, raspy voice sending waves of heat straight to your core. Every word that escaped his lips seemed to intensify the fire already consuming you, as if the sound of his pleasure only fueled your own.

With each word he spoke, the heat inside you grew, becoming almost unbearable. Albedo didn't stop; on the contrary, he reveled in your body's response, as if your pleasure was his greatest triumph. His hands moved with a confidence that made you feel even more exposed, each caress meticulously calculated, each movement designed to push you beyond your limits.

His lips and tongue explored mercilessly, as his words of praise became a mantra that echoed in your mind. "You're perfect," he whispered between kisses, his warm breath sending sparks across your skin. The combination of his voice with the touch of his mouth was intoxicating, like a drug that kept you lost in a sea of ​​pleasure, drowning you in sensations you didn't know could exist.

You were completely drunk with pleasure, every touch and every word from Albedo immersing you further into a state of euphoria. Every caress was like a bolt of electricity running through your body, making all your senses explode. The outside world faded away, and it was just you and him in that room, trapped in a bubble of intense sensations.

Gasps escaped your lips without you being able to control them, and every time his tongue slid over your skin, a shiver ran down your spine. "I can't… oh, Albedo, I can't take it anymore," you murmured, feeling yourself approaching a climax that threatened to overwhelm you. But he only smiled with a mischievous confidence, as if he knew he was far from allowing you rest.

“That’s just the beginning,” he replied in a deep tone, his hands gripping you with a possessive force. The way he moved, with the certainty that he had you under his control, only fueled the fire burning within you. Every time it seemed like you might break free, he held you back, taking your desire to new heights, relishing every moment of your surrender.

The intensity was increasing, every brush of his lips a spark that lit the fire inside you. His devotion to you felt palpable, as if every caress, every kiss, was designed to make you feel more than you had ever felt before. The line between pleasure and pain blurred; the outside world faded away as you gave yourself over completely to the experience.

“You like it, precious?” Albedo whispered, his voice a soft murmur between your moans, and you could only nod, unable to articulate a coherent response. All you could do was feel, let each wave of pleasure drag you further away from reality. His fingers moved masterfully, exploring every part of you, unleashing a torrent of sensations that kept you on the edge of climax, without him letting you fall.

“More… I need more,” you managed to whisper between gasps, feeling the tension in your body reach unbearable levels. He smiled, an expression of triumph that only fueled your desire. Albedo knew exactly what he was doing; he knew every corner of your body and how to take you to the limits of your pleasure.

With one last flick of his tongue, he brought you to the edge of madness, and before you could stop yourself, a cry of pleasure escaped your lips, releasing the pressure that had been building up inside you. The explosion of sensations left you trembling, lost in a sea of ​​euphoria, as you let yourself be carried away by the current of your own desire, knowing that he had brought you to this point.

But Albedo wasn't done with you, and you knew it. Even though your body was shaking, exhausted from the climax you had just experienced, he showed no signs of stopping. His eyes locked on yours, through the blindfold that still covered your vision, as if he could see past your fatigue, as if he knew you could still give him more.

"I've just begun," he murmured, his voice firm and full of determination, as his hands slid down your body again, this time with more force, with an intensity that made you feel like you were being molded by him, at his whim. His fingers invaded you again, moving with a more relentless rhythm, not allowing you a break, while his lips rested on yours, taking what he wanted without asking for it.

With each passing second you felt more overwhelmed, trapped between exhaustion and the desire to continue pleasing him. Your body, hypersensitive, responded to every touch, to every pressure of his hands. The pleasure built up again, faster this time, turning you back into a puppet under his control.

"I'm going to take you to the edge, precious," he promised, his words a low whisper against your ear, just before he sank his fingers into your pussy again.