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geraldwang · 3 months ago

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Say you love me too

- ☆ - Gyutaro x Reader

- ☆ - !WARNING OF EXPLICIT CONTENT- 18+!

- ☆ - 11.7k

- ☆ - a/n: my first commission! if you're interested, let me know :3 If desperate, depraved men make you horny then this is for you ♧ link to snippet ♧ please don't repost or translate my work ♧ ao3 @/mypanda-kun ♧ - ☆ - tags: fem!reader ♧ stalking ♧ dubious-consent ♧ degrading language mixed with praises ♧ lots of humping ♧ oral f.recieving ♧ blood consumption ♧ body worship ♧ inexperienced!gyutaro ♧ pussy drunk ♧ multiple orgasms ♧ obsessive behaviour ♧ some bodily harm ie. scratching, biting ♧ minor descriptions of reader but it's one or two that you can ignore ♧

It was you again, the one who sang in the late hours of the night. Shining beneath the twinkling lights that illuminate your balcony, the sound of your hums and incessant melodies you could half remember disturbing his peace. A nightly ritual that he first caught through the notes in the wind, a distinct sound above the bustle of the entertainment district flowing down from the upper class to the raunchy buildings he hulked on top of— a beckoning call that led him to you.

And what a pretty thing he discovered.

Gyutaro was quickly enthralled, stealing whatever moment he could away from his sister and tasks his master bestowed to be within a few distances of your presence.

Though you seemed odd to him at first, plump and pretty, yet incredibly odd.

You laughed loudly, cooed at the ugly cat that your mistress squealed to dispose of, and bundled your silks to donate them to the beggars— not even flinching when dirty hands held yours in gratitude. Gyutaro watched in astonishment, a contorted sort of envy choking him whenever you dismissed your mother when you shared your riches with the children that cowered in the alleys others turned their noses from.

Your kindness was equalled by your beauty. A dirty, disgusting revelation that made the demon scowl— yet slink closer to you to hear your giggles towards the deformed cat you cared for so delicately. You were peculiar that way to him— caring for ugly things, embracing your servants whenever they came home safely, especially the younger workers. You giggled, huffed and joked— your every thought reflected in your expressions, confident and bold.

Confident people made him itch. Hives prickled his flesh at the thought of them. Clawing at his chest whenever he caught the sight of a beaming smile, yours was somewhat different.

Your smile was warm, inviting, and kind— and Gyutaro wanted it directed at him.

The jealousy that slashed at his face was always momentarily forgotten whenever he heard your laugh. Heat burned, a sensation that made him whinge and hump the floor the first time it pooled in his belly. A rush of emotion that made him wither in agony— unfamiliar to the sensation between his legs when thoughts of you poured into a frenzy after that first night he saw your naked body.

You were an addictive infatuation that stole the better part of his night, a feverish desire. His obsession maddening his senses with every night your songs called him— but Gyutaro had been careful so far, painstakingly wary whenever your gaze scrutinised the dark anytime the shadows shifted.

Though, it was never enough, he needed to be closer, feel your skin pressed against his— lay next to your body with your fingers tangled in his locks the way he imagined when he twisted in the nest of your belongings. Your favourite purple kimono warming his body the way blood did when it gushed down his throat— you were a new craving he was powerless to ignore, a yearning that pulled him to your balcony and rummaged your drawers whenever you left so he could steal a piece of you he wished to caress.

Rubbing his tongue on the fabric of your panties, savouring the wayward strands of your hair from your hairbrush, and peering into your bathing room to touch your most intimate things.

He couldn’t help himself; it was his favourite pastime, lurking around the corner of your mini hot springs, peaking at the droplets that rolled down your back into your ass. Watching you scrub your body and sink into the warm waters after a long day of whatever it was that made rich life difficult. Soaking your plump figure in essential oils that made his head swim, caressing the softness of your curves that drooled slick from his cock.

It was your fault his dick hurt, your fault he had to relieve the burn with hard strokes on his hardened shaft, slicked with spit rather than your pussy— fucking the tight grip of his fist with his bottom lip clenched between his teeth. It was all your fault when he rolled his fist around the reddened tip to smooth the wetness along his length, thin veins pulsing for the contact of a wet cunt only to settle for his hand that could never mimic the suction of your pussy. It was worse whenever you moaned as if that didn't leak beads of cum from his tip, forcing him to hunch over to fuck his hand and end the torment of heated blood coursing through his veins.

He loathed it— yet loved you.

The spoiled life, the content sighs.

It was an odd contradiction Gyutaro did not pay too much attention to, lest it distracted him from you. He just— just needed to be in you. In your skin, in your flesh, inside your body. He needed to feel you. All of you. So much it had him drooling into your clothes as he fucked the plushy cushions of the pillows he stole from you.

Your scent was everywhere but inside him.

It drove him wild. Mad, unhinged enough to ignore a kill and follow you home instead, slashing any man that looked your way and causing a scene Daki had chastised him for.

It did not matter anymore.

Now finally, after weeks of sneaking and stalking, of humping and whining— he could not stand the distance between you anymore.

Tonight was going to be a special one as he watched you from afar yet again, crouching behind a roof bannister with the shadows cloaking him from your sight. Utterly oblivious to the stench of death and decay a few yards away— but how could you be when you spent your life sheathed in the warmth and comforts of wealth scented by florals? You had no idea of the scabs that melted flesh or the starvation that would force a person to rip the meat off their friend, only to coat their dry tongue with that moisture. With your easy smile that slanted too few frowns, you still lived above those lowly creatures that washed your clothes and bowed when you walked past.

A pretty princess sitting high on her pedestal; the sight of you twisted a thirst in his belly, and your scent— your sweet, lavender-like fragrance that masked your natural essence pulsing in your veins made him dizzy. Even your blood was high class. Clean, healthy. He could smell it from across the way— hear the rhythmic thump of your heartbeat when he closed his eyes and focused on your presence. You were delicious in every sense of the word— to consume you would appease the churning hunger most demons found insatiable— it would quench the bloodlust you triggered. Yet, you were still alive, singing your pretty songs no matter how many scars bled under his nails— because strangely enough, your death would only upset him.

To eat you would mean the end of your song— the demise of your smile— Gyutaro would never hear your laughter again. This nightly ritual of stalking your balcony would cease, and there would be nothing else to look forward to, nothing to heat the blood in his core. You were privileged, beautiful, and a creature he admired so much that the thought of killing you disappointed him.

You were too precious for death, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little taste.

“Pretty, pretty”, he sang, matching your melody, that familiar burn in his abdomen he recently discovered to be lust rising whenever he sat downwind from you— from the alluring scent that filled his core with hot blood, coursing down to his cock until it ached between his legs. A delicious ache that had him squirming, whinging into his fist to stave off the urge to devour you. To sink his teeth into that smooth, delectable-looking skin that made him scar his own, fuck, he could not sit there any longer.

But he had to wait, sit tight until all the lights went out and you were alone. Isolated, vulnerable.

For now, he merely listened to the song you hummed while brushing your hair, the afflictions in your tone hypnotising the demon that picked at his ears simply so he could hear you sing that much sweeter; as if he could not bear to miss a note of your song. “She's so close”, he murmured, feeling the pulse of his sex rub against his thigh. “Ne-need to-to—” He knew the word, knew the act and the mechanics of it, he watched women here work enough times to understand the basics— yet the thought of you writhing and moaning sent him into a rage, humping the thin cotton of his pants to imitate the sensations.

He laid his cheek against his arm, staring hungrily upon your little smile when you could glide your fingers smoothly through the strands, his crooked fingers mimicking the movement, imagining the softness that would brush along his marred skin. Envy curled a sneer until his flushed cock brushed along the rough panel of the roof a little too harshly, his hips unable to stop their thrusting as he watched you undress for the night.

“Fuck, fuck!”

Gyutaro felt hot, agitated— restless.

He was so— so close to you, but there was also a woman in the room setting your bed for the night and several lights flickering in the manor. He did not want to go through the trouble of spilling blood, creating a mess that would draw too much attention— he refused to see a tear on your cheek that he did not personally inflict. That meant patience and stealth until—

“Thank you, you can go now.”

Yes.

The woman smiled, bowed her head, and left the room. Taking the candle with her to illuminate her path down the hall— one by one, the other bedroom lights snuffed out, and the manor fell still for the night.

Gyutaro waited, chewing on his bottom lip as the anticipation stirred. He listened closely, waiting for the whispers of the servants to dissipate in the walls until he made his move.

He stood and leapt across the roof, landing soundlessly on your balcony railing. Gyutaro hid his weapons, hunching his shoulders as he crawled to the doors, clicking them open, eyes glowing, smile leering.

Oh...

You were right there, nestled in your covers, breathing even and soundless, expression soft. Gyutaro could see you as clearly as if the moon shone directly on your delicate features, a dreamlike glow illustrated for him. For his eyes only. The same eyes that analysed you carefully as the demon crawled to your side, peering so close he could feel your gentle breaths part your lips and warm his face. He hummed, shuddering from the sensation. Your body was warm— emitting a heat that welcomed him, coercing him to finally have his touch.

His first touch.

The demon raised his hand, crooked fingers twitching mid-air, nervousness swallowing his breaths, inching closer and closer until a crooked finger pressed on your cheek.

Gyutaro moaned a throaty sound that slinked his body on top of yours, hunching and hovering above your sleeping figure— careful not to disturb you as he palmed your cheek with a tenderness he didn’t know he could express to a human.

“I’m touching her”, he gasped, sighs of wonder fanning your face. “she’s so soft.”

His entire palm engulfed your cheek, claws gently grazing your hair as he shook to keep himself steady and not fall on you from sheer excitement. It was as if the contact shot kindles of pleasure through him, tingling his body with sensations that had him keening, desperate to feel more. So he peeled back your covers, exposing you to his hunger-blazed eyes and the grin that stretched his face, your pretty figure vulnerable and at his mercy.

Finally...

Quitely and ever so carefully, Gyutaro lowered himself down on top of you— gangly limbs outstretched and smothered your body, his erection pressed on your belly as he settled his weight on you. “ohh”, he mewled, nestling his nose into your soft hair, “so warm.”

For one blissful, serene moment, Gyutaro was embraced, and it felt safe.

“AHH—”

He stifled your scream with a rough hand, shushing you by squeezing your face painfully and stilling your thrashing limbs with his superior strength. “Don’t scream, I— ohhh, wow, ahhh- that’s so nice”, he grunted, cock jerking from the friction.

You fought against him in your panic, panting and withering in a pitiful attempt to free yourself from his grip but only managing to make him moan— rashly pushing your thighs between his legs and accidentally rubbing against the heated bulge that had him thrusting his hips into you. “fe-feels good, pretty”, he panted, rolling his hips in time with your thrashing. “keep- yeah, ohhh, ohh, fu-uck, ple-please don’t stop.”

His grip flexed over your mouth, masking the shouts as he humped you roughly with his pants scratching against your naked skin. His strength was too much for your human body, even when his bony hips pressed into your plushy curves— the softness was too arousing to stop. “‘m sorry, so-so sorry- It’s not my fault.” Gyutaro lied through clenched teeth, his smirk too wide as he attempted to calm you. “shh, don’t-don’t cry, nghh- you make my- ahh, ahh- my cock feel s-so good, I-I can’t help it.”

Gyutaro's movements were clumsy, only chasing the contact of your bare thighs withering into his fat bulge, the softness better than the pillows he fucked in the dark. But it was okay— he didn’t need them anymore, never again— you were here now, crying and pulsing with hot blood he could feel through the loose garment of his pants— sweat beading on his brow from the contact of your body flush against his. You were better than anything he had ever imagined— you touched him, excited him— all those nights of watching you sleep as he fucked his fist over your face were nothing compared to your pillowy thighs squishing on his shaft. Even with his pants in the way, the friction was too delicious to stop, blindly rutting into your body as you fought for control against a demon that was helpless against his own desires.

To him, you made the sweetest sounds. Intangible noises puffed while you fought against the creature crushing you. “You make my dick feel so good”, he whined loudly. “imma put it in you later— it’ll feel so good inside, but jus’ wanna feel you now, jus’ a bit.” Gyutaro cried your name through his groans, revelling in your choked sobs that smeared his palm. he inhaled the aromatic scent of your fear.

You heaved, shoved and bucked your hips into him, unintentionally driving the demon to mutter profanities and desperate noises as he quickly neared a depraved release he could not control. Not when your tits pushed on his chest like that— not when your soft thighs squished on his sex, and you gazed at him with wide, glistening eyes watching him use your body for his own pleasure. His satisfaction, his fulfilment. A selfish, perverse desire that dribbled from his tip and dampened his pants so much you could feel the slick rub on your thighs.

“You feel so-so warm”, he groaned, humping your sweet body frantically. “can’t wa-wait to fu-uuck you, pretty girl. Bet you so wet and hot, hot-hot— ahh, yes, touch me! Right th-there, jus’ like that! You make my-my dick hurt, pretty. You’re so-soo pretty.”

Gyutaro trembled, cock heavy, wet and incredibly sensitive. You only stimulated it further with your jerks, muffled pleas drowning as he salivated above you— eyes wild with lust, his hips reflected in their frantic jerks. “Cum, cum, cum!” He squealed, hunching over you as he fucked your thighs. His belly fluttered, “I’mma cum! Ohh, ple-ee lemme cum on you.” Hard strokes on your thighs had him whining on top of you, rubbing his cock until it hurt— until his back arched, his teeth clenched in his jaw, and ropes of milky cum spilled from his flushed tip.

“ahh, fuck— no, no!” He cried, trembling through his pathetic orgasm as threads of cum splatter all over his pants. “No! sh-hit, ple-no! No!” Gyutaro rocked into you desperately, shaking through an orgasm that ruined his lap and warmed your thighs, a pitiful sight as he blubbered dejectedly. “I rui-ruined it— stupid- stupid! Wanted to cum on your pretty thighs, shit-shit-shit!” He panted through clenched teeth, shame curling from the sticky residue coating his dick that already began to cool— taking a moment to calm his erratic palpitations before yellow eyes fixated down at you with a smile that made your belly flutter.

“hush, hush”, he purred, rolling his hips into your body lazily. “I’m not gon’ hurt you, precious. Relax.”

He held you down tighter, pressing sloppy kisses along your neck in his attempt to calm you, but really, it was a selfish indulgence to kiss you. Though his kisses were messy, wet pecks of his lips across the expanse of your neck and shoulder, whispering endearing praises as he pressed you into the mattress, until eventually, your struggles ceased.

Gyutaro paused, lifting his head to see the fight leave your eyes, chest heaving from the effort of your pathetic struggle. For a moment, the two of you only stared, laboured breathing shared between you as he lay an inch from your face. He noted every twitch and form of your expression— a mixture of dread and something close to curiosity gaping back at him, drowning in the amber of his eyes as you wondered about the creature looming over you with sticky cum coated between you.

But you weren’t disgusted, not in any way Gyutaro could sense.

You were frightened, rightfully so, confused, naturally, violated, of course— but not revolted. Not outraged or sickened. You seemed... perplexed. Horrified yet fascinated, your heart thumping so loudly he could feel it against his chest.

That was uncommon for him— you were being odd again.

Gyutaro peered at you a little longer, sliding his sharp eyes over you— and then he released you— swiftly crawling back away from your bed to stare at you from the corner in the familiarity of the shadows, curiously peering through the dark where it was safe, away from you. And to his wonderment, you didn’t scream again. you sat up and stared.

Neither of you said a word.

The air was stilted, the manor was noiseless, and the room was deathly sombre. You didn’t scream, insult, or chastise his actions, something Gyutaro paid extra attention to, anxiously waiting for the crying and hurtful rejections he was used to— yet none came.

This silence was unnatural. It unsettled him and created an awful pit in his stomach; it made his cock ache. Gyutaro held his breath, listening to the thud of your heartbeat for any indication of your next move, only for you to ask in a soft voice;

“Are you the one who has been following me?”

Gyutaro nodded, albeit taken aback by your calmness while he shuffled in his soiled pants. “You- you noticed?”

“Not at first”, you whispered, fixating on the glow of his mix-matched coloured eyes and the recognition of their intensity. “But I could hear you sometimes when I was alone.”

“Humans usually can’t tell.”

You fidgeted with the wet patch that seeped on your nightgown. “I...had a feeling”, you said, oddly calm. “I could feel it most nights, like tonight.”

“What kind of feeling?” His voice was breathless, eager— you thought about him too? Noticed him in the dark? Anticipated his arrival? He pressed you for answers, “When?”

“I-I don’t know. Like, a cold shadow on my back. The smell of blood, but—”

“But what?”

“It— you—” With a stabilising breath, you answered honestly. “You felt sad kind of. It was a lonely feeling, a miserable one, stuck to my shadow. As if— as if I was dragging it everywhere. At first, I thought I was imagining it— but then, I saw you.”

His breath hitched, a sort of anxiety mixed with shame.

“I saw you, at the hot springs— I thought I heard something in pain, like a cat or something. So when I went to check, you were there hunched over and fidgeting. I thought you were hurt, but then you made a noise.” Your face flushed from the memory. “I ran back to the bath, I don’t think you noticed— you were… preoccupied. But ever since then, I noticed the smell would be in my room, and my stuff would go missing.”

Gyutaro chuckled nervously, clawing at his cheek in embarrassment, unaware of how the skin tared and bled until he saw you cringe when the flesh hung from his face in red streaks. He stopped. His face healed rapidly, and your eyes widened as you watched the tissue repair itself so efficiently.

“What are you?”

He shook his head. “You’d scream if I told you.”

“I haven’t screamed yet”, you answered plainly, which was true— you hadn’t so much as demanded he leave or even cried about his dirty humping— so when he confessed what he was, the word demon thickened the tension, and your heart skipped a beat.

“Oh…”

You stared even longer this time. Analysing the demon through the darkness it slinked into to avoid the scrutiny.

The undivided attention of your stare made Gyutaro squirm. No one has ever looked at him this long without a word.

Gyutaro could feel your gaze run across his body— so in a moment of bravery, he stood tall— using his power to flicker the candle on your nightstand, allowing the fiery shadows to dance across his form for your viewing pleasure, and though his shoulders hunched the way they usually did, he was still a hulking monster. A powerful one, emitting the aura of his might and blinking at the way you shuddered from it.

He was grotesque, strong, beastly— and you still stared. Silent.

A demon with glowing eyes, blemished skin and rippled muscle that disappeared past his broad chest. The rest of him was gangly, wretched, with protruding hips and sagging clothes.

You still had not said a word, wide-eyed and clutching on your covers, the scent of disgust non-existent, or at the very least smothered by the overwhelming fear that made his cock weep.

Gyutaro whimpered. He could hear how your heart stuttered as you raked your eyes over his body, unintentionally searing him with the memories of cruel words and prickling feelings of inadequacy of another woman's judgement— pulling him out of the comfort of your scent and into the jeering ghosts of dead hecklers. He didn’t like the attention, the way your gaze wandered without disdain or horror— it was too exposing, intimate.

Panic began to rise, a jittery sort of alarm that brimmed heavy tears filled with murderous rage— a violence plagued by old wounds no amount of demon blood could heal. He was despicable, disfigured— dirty. Gyutaro sobbed, sinking into his knees when the shame overpowered his fury.

“Don’t look at me!” he cried, startling you. He did not deserve to be looked at, not with your pretty eyes. Gyutaro cowered behind his hands, nonsense whines of his insecurities coming out in high-pitched cries as he wrecked his face bloody.

He had to fix it, destroy it— mutilate and disfigure it.

Claws hacked off the skin that made him seethe. His flesh peeled in sickening squelches. “Don’t lo-look! Don’t look!” He sobbed, tears and blood blotching his face, pouring out of his wounds and staining the wooden floors of your bedroom as he crouched into a pathetic fetal position— unaware of how you scruffled out of covers and inched towards him.

“Ugly! Dis-disgusting! Ugly, ugly!”

He was pitiful, hideous— blood streamed down his cheeks as he slashed, ripped and mauled his skin. “need-need to-to fix it!”

“no, no, don’t cry— stop hurting yourself”, you whispered in what you hoped sounded comforting, cringing as you patted his head awkwardly. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

Gyutaro snatched your hand, your shout being ignored as he cradled his bloodied face with your warmth, using your hand to comfort himself the way you so foolishly offered to the crying demon. He babbled and sobbed into your palm, pressing kisses that were more tongue than lips. This felt right. You were holding him, consoling him— worrying about him. You were warm, and you shared it with him.

Gyutaro calmed instantly. His skin repaired rapidly again, the torn flesh dissolved from the floor, but not before your hand was coloured in his sticky blood. You flinched and squirmed in his hold, but not enough to fight back or free yourself from his grip. Instead, you hummed to him, doing your best to minimise the noise of the distressed demon snivelling in your hand.

“I-it’s okay, shhh”, you reassured him, heart in your throat, “d-don’t cry.”

The sobs eventually subsided, and hiccups softened as he licked your hand clean, murmuring apologies into your soft palm.

“I’m so’rry, im’m ‘orry.”

“shhh, there, there— you’re not, I meant—”, you struggled to find the words. “you just surprised me. I-I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“‘orry, ‘m sorry”, he sighed, pressing another kiss to your palm before releasing you, and then feeling a pang in his chest when you scruffled back to the comfort of your blankets at the other side of the room— away from his reach. Gyutaro simpered, lowering his arms and flexing his fists to mimic the warmth he lost.

When his sniffles seized— you found the strength to continue. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to meet you”, he said, fiddling with his dirty pants sadly.

“Okay…”, your eyes darted towards the door. “you met me, c-can I leave?”

His head tilted to the side, brows furrowed as he considered your words curiously— as if he was unable to understand why you would want to leave. Seconds ticked past, indicated by the slow drip of the candle that glowed your face in a pretty golden light before he snapped out of his daze, and his crooked smile tugged his lips.

“No, no you can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because— because you belong to me now”, he said sweetly, as sweet as a rasp could sound. “I’ll keep you safe, don’t worry.”

“What’s your name?” you ask tentatively after a beat.

He paused momentarily, eyeing you carefully before responding. “Gyutaro.” He tried not to shudder when you whispered his name back to him— he’d never heard it said so delicately before. As if you breathed life into it.

“How-how old are you?”

He blinked at the question, and eventually shrugged. “stopped counting— only notice the bodies now.”

“...Bodies?”

“The ones I eat”, he said with a giggle, scratching his cheek again.

“Are—” your breath hitched, trying to force the words out. “are you going to kill me?”

His laughter startled you, a high staccato flutter that started from his throat and stretched his grin, “No, no, silly! I jus’ wan’to taste you.”

“Taste?” You squeaked, shuffling away from his reach and banging against the wall.

He nodded, curls bouncing in excitement when your eyes dilated. “Your skin, your legs— the tasty smell right there”, he pointed between your thighs. “Wan’ to taste it all.”

“Why?”

He frowned. “why? cause you smell nice”, he answered as if that was the most ridiculous question he had ever heard. “Cause you’re pretty.”

“And that’s-that’s why you’ve been following me?”

He nodded, his smile somewhat endearing, “I’ve never met anyone so pretty before.”

Your heart stuttered again, making him smile that much wider as he watched you curl your knees up to your chest protectively. “Thank you”, the words come out in a soft breath, startling even yourself as the emotions flickered in your eyes.

Dread, apprehension, exhilaration.

Gyutaro slinked towards you, the flutter of your heartbeat calling to him as he inched closer and closer until he lay at your feet, peering up at you with glowing eyes. “Can I have my taste now?”

You gawked at him, “you’re asking me?”

“It won’t hurt”, he pleaded, big eyes shining, “I promise.”

“B-but…you eat people?”

“Yes.”

“An-and you’ll eat me?”

“No, no—” he shook his head fiercely, a conviction as strong as any other, “I would never, not you. Promise.”

“Why?” the apprehension twists, reflecting in your voice. “I don’t understand, you want to taste me— you’re a demon, an-and you eat other people— I—” You huffed, tears beading as the fear palpitated in your chest. “You’re asking me such-such a thing—”

“I said I wouldn’t!” He scowled, gripping your leg to keep you close when you tried to flee, ignoring your wince when his hold clenched tight. “I’ll take it—” he hissed, “I’ll rip your dress an-an’— shi-hit !” The words failed him, frustrations seeping with the idle chatter when the scent of you was clinging to his skin.

“And fuck me?”

He nodded eagerly.

It was crude; the word felt dirty and foreign on your tongue, rising bile up your throat— yet it excited you. A dirty, shameful thrill Gyutaro could hear with your every breath as the demon yelped and moaned, licking the exposed skin of your leg, long tongue trailing slick up your flesh until he reached the hem of your nightie. He could smell it now, the wetness that made your thighs clench and allowed him to lick the smooth skin of your inner thigh, strings of saliva coating the plushy fat as his head disappeared under the dress.

“Stop, now.”

You watched him cry again from the rejection, a desperate sound coming from the most unlikely creature as he parted your shaky legs wider and settled between them, the addictive scent of your pussy luring him to push further. Gyutaro could see how you wanted to deny him— when you shrank from his touch and glanced wistfully towards the door. Yet you sunk into the mattress anyway, weakly nudging at his shoulders as if that would stop his advancement. Mumbling no's and please's that sounded weaker than the soft breeze from the window.

He purred from the revelation— you liked it. Your halfhearted protests, your gasped sighs, and your twitches were telling enough. You wanted this, wanted him.

Though, your rejections still swelled his cock. a degrading attraction that made him feel small in front of you despite the power imbalance— blindingly seeking your approval when he knew he had the strength to crush you. It was rousing; you truly were precious.

“Stop.”

“No.”

He sounded firmer, authoritative, sure of himself now that Gyutaro knew how much you liked it when he pressed his tongue on your clothed cunt.

“I’ll scream.” you eyed him carefully, tensing your thighs against his head when his nose bumped against your clit. “I-I’ll call for help.”

“I’ll rip your throat”, he murmured, busying himself with the panties obscuring his prize, fingers digging painfully into your legs to keep them steady as he ripped the fabric with his teeth. “I’ll kill anyone that walks through that door.” Gyutaro inhaled the tattered cloth, groaning loud as you watched him tongue the wet stain that held your pussy seconds ago. “ Fuck, mmm— I can hear them all in their rooms. I can hear your mistress with the cook.” His eyes gleamed, “Can we make that noise too?”

You squirmed, confused with his calmness when he spent the majority of the night crying and whinging.

“Then why ask me?”

He shrugged, pocketing your panties as he struggled to find the words. “You make me sickish—” he confessed awkwardly, his scratchy voice contradicting the timidity of his words. “You look at me, an’ I hate it, an’ I wan’ you to never stop. You’re so pretty an’ you look at me,” he breathed. “It makes me crazy, makes me wanna eat you, breathe you in, be inside you. Wan’ to have you on me, all over. You smell so fuckin’ good it makes me dizzy. I-I can’t think with you. I wan’to take and hurt and fuck, but make you look at me. Say yes to me, jus’ once. I-I wan’ you to feel me.”

The words were lost to you.

Gyutaro palmed his erection as he gauged your reaction, nervousness and lust buzzing in his core as he stroked his hardened shaft through his wet pants. Your chest heaved, tits bouncing with your heavy breaths, eyes wide, and mouth parted into a small o he imagined spreading with his cock. You were staring again, thighs open and fingers twisting the covers with the demon looming above. Gyutaro shivered at the sight of you. You were a dream, and you were looking at him, just like he wanted.

“You make me so hard, pretty”, he sighed, when you said nothing. “an’ ’m gon’ fuck you, ‘kay? ‘it’s gonna feel good, or not, I dunno, we'll try together.”

He crouched back between your thighs, taking the time to caress every inch of your skin with his tongue, wet kisses shining where his lips touched. Up your feet— your calf, to your knee, and then switched to give your other leg the same attention. His lips were chapped, feeling rough against you, but even with his strength, Gyutaro held you delicately. Carefully. Like a precious doll that was all his and at his mercy.

You were stunned, terrified and captivated by him all at once. unable to stop sighing while bucking your hips whenever his erection pressed against you, gasping when his hands gripped your hips with the claws piercing your flesh. It was a dance of control— Gyutaro’s gentleness not to break you and your heated attraction to the demon that moaned from your touch. It was exhilarating for you both, a charged tension neither of you could deny.

Though Gyutaro was not denying anything, he knew what he wanted— what he hungered for, and it coursed through your body with a melodic beat.

“Will it hurt?” the question escaped, wincing when his teeth nick your thigh.

“Do you wan’ it to?” His words were muffled, suckling on the trickling blood with pleasure building, “mmm, your blood’s’so good .” He needed more.

He didn’t hear your response, not when he clamped his jaws into your flesh unexpectedly, smothering your scream with his other hand as he swallowed the rush of blood that poured from the wound— Gyutaro moaned deeply, eyes rolling as the hot liquid burned his throat. It was bliss, an ecstasy better than any substance as it flowed into his veins, pumping into every muscle and tendon and feeling it fuel his power. His pleasured mewls tugged you closer, lost in the cadence of your pulse beneath his fingertips.

“Delicious”, he cooed, lips stained red. Gyutaro flickered his tongue against the wound, shivering from your croaks of pain as he pinned you down to have his fill. Holding you tight, drinking in your essence and allowing it to warm his belly in all the ways the demon dreamt as you twitched beneath him, clenching on the sheets as you cried under his palm— until a warm rush of euphoria tingled your body as his saliva healed the torn skin.

Your body melted into the bedding, a low hum purring from your throat as the pain softened into a dull throb infusing you with a warmth that misted your vision— throwing the room into a spin. It became hard to decipher anything past the gentle kisses he pressed into the healing wound.

Gyutaro smirked, watching your eyes roll in bliss as his tongue smoothed the teeth’ indents. he only pierced your thigh enough for the blood to freely seep for him to have his fill. And as the saliva did its work— he pressed his face into your pussy, inhaling deeply, releasing your mouth to grip your hips and squeeze the supple curves in his greedy hands. “fuck, you’re like a dream.” his husky groans pulsated against your sex— a sound infused with the urges that made his promises come out hoarse as Gyutaro swore to take care of you. To make you feel good— that a pretty girl like you deserved the world, and he intended to give it to you. All breathed into your bare cunt that drooled on his tongue, hungrily licking your wet folds.

“G-gyutaro?”

He keened at the sound of your voice like a cat seeking affection. “say my name again”, he pleaded, teasing your pussy lips with idle strokes of his tongue. Savouring the taste as if it were an exquisite meal.

Your fingers tangled in his locks, tugging and twisting his head up from your thighs, listening to his mewls from the discomfort as you seized control over your trembles. Doing your best to not succumb to his coercive touches despite the drunken fog his healing gave you. Every kiss and caress tingled through your core, shallow breaths indicating how your fear began to dissipate as the fascinations kindled, especially when he cooed praises into your cunt.

“Gyutaro”, you whispered delicately. “Use your words, tell me what you want?”

“Your pussy”, he panted, swiping his bottom lip of your blood, “your ass too.”

“Have you ever—”

“No, no— but you jus’-” Gyutaro sighed heavily, fidgeting with the nestle of blankets rubbing on his clothed dick as your hot blood rushed to his core. “I can’t help it. You tasted delicious, better than anythin’. You’re so close, an’ I can hear your blood, the pulse on your pussy. She's calling to me. I can hear it, smell how wet you are.” His desperation cracked his voice, “I wan’ to taste more— so so bad. I’ll use my tongue on you, make it good, fuck you nice.”

You swallowed your nerves, a sick smile twitched at the sight of him. “what if I say no?” He froze, and you clenched your grip on his hair and yanked him up to meet your eye. “what if I tell you to leave?”

Fuck, his cock throbbed when you pulled his hair.

“I’ll take you with me”, he rasped. “I wan’ be good for you, but I’ll take it. Make it hurt so good no one will touch you again. Ruin you. Wreck you,” he smiled sinfully, flashing his teeth. “have you ever been fucked?”

What a dirty question that came from the cruellest eyes brimmed with tears— it made him look pitifully adorable. He was ugly, disfigured and murderous, and Gyutaro still sighed and kissed your leg, waiting for your answer.

“No.”

“No you’ve never been fucked”, his claws dug painfully into your skin, “or no I can’t taste your pussy?”

“No.”

Gyutaro shuddered. “my cock hurts whenever you say no.” He leered, “wanna feel it?”

“...No.”

He smirked, moaning softly for you, “you’re dirty too.” a statement that had you twisting his hair again to make him yelp. Gyutaro snickered. You were intoxicating— more than he could have hoped. “do’ya like it when I say that? That I watch you bathe and touch my cock thinkin’ of you?” He tilted his head. "Is that why you haven’t called for help?” You said no again, though it was a much more breathy sound as if the lie could not form quick enough. Gyutaro giggled over your blush. “pretty girl is nasty ”, he sang merrily, “pretty girl wants to be fucked by a demon”. His laughter grew, bold enough to run his hands over your belly, following up to your tits, calloused fingers stroking the soft breasts as he marvelled at how you shivered from his touch.

“Is that what you want?” He mused, practically vibrating from glee as he groped you, “to be fucked? I know y’like when I touch you.” crooked fingers rubbed on your nipples, relishing in your gasps as he kneaded your tits like a depraved teen. “I can smell it. Your heart does a lil’ pat pat when I get closer. Ahh-haha”, he crooned, grinding his bulge against your leg only so he could hear you prove his point. “See? Nasty girl likes it, wan’ me to fuck you. Fuck you hard, mm? y’like it hard? When it hurts an’ makes your legs shake? I see other girls cry from it, but you’re prettier than the other girls. Your crying would be beautiful. But I’ll try to be gentle.” he smirked, relishing in your drumming heartbeat over his nasty words, confidence building with every pinch of your soft tits. “I never fucked anyone before.” he said with a faux sigh, jagged teeth peaking from the smile, “but I heard men talk about it before, how to make a pussy wet.” His eyes glowed tauntingly, “I did that, I made you wet.” Gyutaro sniggered playfully, a wicked gleam replacing the tears that shined in his eyes earlier, a dark contrast that made you wince much to his delight.

“that’s dirty, princess.”

“No, I—”

He shushed you gently anyway, patting your cheek and coercing your grip off his hair— then yanked you harshly towards him.

“I wish you could smell it, how delicious you are— feel how badly my cock hurts for you. No one's ever done that before, makes you special, princess.” He grinned sickeningly, looming over you, ignoring your huffs of protest that smacked at his chest as he ripped your nightie. “I heard that you like nice people, so I wanted to be nice, be good for you, try and make you happy.” Though the niceties were straining his patience. Gyutaro tore through your clothes until you lay beneath him, bare and vulnerable. The picture of all his desires. “I jus’ wan you, precious. I can't help myself anymore.”

Gyutaro didn’t wait for your answer this time; he hauled you up by your thighs and settled them on his shoulders— bending you in half with a strength you couldn’t fathom before his mouth captured your pussy. Licking and slurping on your cunt like a man starved— his smile pressed on your flesh as you jerked from the touch of his slinky tongue stroking your folds, gasping from the wetness that smeared your slit with his messy pussy eating.

You moaned for him, the sound of it tingling his spine— Gyutaro ate your pussy feverishly just to hear that sound again. And you graced him with more.

“St-stop, ahh, st-ahh.”

He didn’t, knowing you did not mean a word of it and not caring about your objections anyway. Instead, Gyutaro grew wilder— rutting his tongue all over your cunt with skills he didn’t possess, only grunting, rubbing and flicking the hot muscle on your outer lips. Suckling on your clit. The taste of your pussy elicited his own little mewls that vibrated against your skin and had you trembling— gripping the sheets below you as you struggled to swallow the shameful moans the demon coerced with his sharp tongue.

“Gyu! ple- you-you can’t!” your moans choked like the lies they were, pleading him to stop and slow down when your cunt betrayed you by staining his mouth with sticky fluids. But you couldn't like it, he was— “You’re—” You couldn't finish a word or even a thought without a little whine stumbling.

Gyutaro ravished you, sharp teeth scraping against you accidentally until it leaked tiny trickles of blood, mixing with the fluids that seeped from your cunt— creating a dick jerking mixture that heated his core. His eyes rolled as he slathered it on his tongue, drinking it all in with your soundless gasps. Gyutaro couldn’t focus past your cunt, not when the smell wafted through him— arousal humming into his abdomen and churning lust straight down to his neglected cock drooling into his pants.

“st-ahh, hur-hurts! Gyu!”

He only nodded in acknowledgement— flattening his tongue and massaging broad strokes on your puffy folds to heal the cuts. “A lil’ salty”, he muttered into your wet lips, “but sweet.” He licked your pussy again, humming to himself cheerfully. “y’taste good, pretty. Like a treat all for’me.” Gyutaro slurped loudly, devouring your cunt with his whole face, jutting his chin into your hole, bumping his nose into your clit, his cheeks glistening with the mess you soaked on his face as he ate like a starved mutt— groaning into your cunt as if it were the only meal to ever coat his tongue.

“Ohh, fu-uck, yes! ple-ease, gyu- uhh, ahh”, you cried, babbles of his name mixed with your mewls. A melody better than any song— any sound, only slightly louder than his guttural moans. Especially with the tiny beads of blood dribbling wherever his teeth pierced your flesh, only for him to kiss it better, swallowing the hot liquid and healing you rapidly with his saliva. Pain and pleasure moulded into one, keeping you steady by holding your ass— he rubbed your pudgy cheeks appreciatively, the fat filling his palms in big handfuls.

You squirmed, rocked and sighed as a coil tightened in your belly— a sensation too intense you attempted to cinch your thighs to run from it, but Gyutaro squeezed your ass and pulled you deeper into his face. Your pleas were ignored, and the coil pressed harder, tighter— “Gyu! Wa-wait!” It snapped and your orgasm surged.

“‘er so wet”, he rasped, murmuring praises as wetness splashed his tongue, slurping on your squirts of release, speaking directly into your pussy as if the flutters of your hole and spews of slick were answers to his jabbers. “‘ure beauti-ful. mmm, jus’ like that. s’good, good girl. make a mess on me, ple-please.” It was everything for him to touch you like this, and Gyutaro savoured every ounce of it, of your scent, blood and flesh as you panted. Exploring your hole, forcing his tongue inside a little just to see how tight you were— and when he felt the resistance— how your walls squeezed on the muscle, he almost came untouched. He pushed in deeper, pre-cum dripping from his flushed tip as he felt the tight rings of your pussy clamp on his tongue from the overstimulation.

Shit.

“Turn ‘round”, Gyutaro demanded, putting you back down— breaths shallow, eyes wild and bloodshot, licking his lips watching you turn to your hands and knees on shaky limbs.

“W–what’re— Gyu! Oh, fu-ahh, not-not there! Tha-that’s dir-ohh, ple- such a goo’ boy. Fe-eels so good, hun!”

He tittered from the praise, burying his tongue into your ass with your fat cheeks spread— he licked, suckled and kissed, listening to your moans turn non-verbal. Gyutaro humped the sheets, chasing an orgasm that fluttered in his belly while gliding his tongue into your puckered hole, his cock jolting from the tightness squeezing on him. Your walls twitched as he fucked you with harshed thrusts of his tongue, pushing at your ass until your head fell into the pillows, smothering your helpless cries.

His suspicions were confirmed— your ass was tighter, but your pussy was wetter— warmer— and he needed both.

He leaned back, and your gasps stifled when he flipped you effortlessly.

“‘m gonna fuck you now.” he rasped hungrily, his words not up for debate. Gyutaro watched you nod timidly, but there was nothing timid about that dazed look in your eye. You could tell how thick he was from the tent in the fabric, his length pushing against the cloth with a raunchy, wet stain revealing his desire. Desperate to be freed.

Pretty doe eyes peered up at him as you squeezed your thighs, shuffling to try and ease the tension in your achy cunt.

“c’mere”, you beckoned him with open arms, smiling as amber eyes glowed excitedly.

Gyutaro tugged off his pants hurriedly, his hunger for you blinding him as he scrambled to undress quickly enough.

You said yes!

He ripped the fabric in his haste, his cock jutting out and slapping him in the stomach as it stood full mast, tip flushed an angry red, thin veins trailing along his shaft and the left side decorated with the black marks adorning his chest down his body. His balls were round, heavy and hanging between his thighs— the crown of his cock was bulbous— the shaft more length than width but a weight that had you fidgeting. His cock had a more heated complexion than his chest, and he was pretty. The sight of him dried your throat, and Gyutaro did not feel self-conscious when your heart stuttered in excitement, the taste of your pussy still tingling on his lips.

“Please, please ask me.” he groaned as he palmed his erection with one hand, hooking your leg around his waist with the other— Gyutaro needed to hear you say it. His cock hurt— filled with the blood he drank from you, it was hot and achy, and it hurt. “Ask me to fuck you.” He could take you how he intended, but that pleading look in your eyes swayed him. He had to hear it from you.

“Gyutaro”, you purred his name, taking his hand off his cock and curling your fingers together as you pulled him down on top of you, “fuck me, please? I want you to.” You could see his adam's-apple bob nervously, a meek nod rustling his curls and tickling your cheeks as he settled his weight on top of you with your thighs cinched around his bony hips. “You were right”, you hummed, pushing his hair back from his face, taking note of every blemish and scar, glowing eyes and miserable expression— and smiling up at him anyway. “I liked it when you watched me.”

The admission caresses his lips, the softest breath of words blooming affection; he could only respond with a low whine. All rationale escapes when you smile at him. He kisses you. A messy, feverish touch of lips with his tongue slinking across the seam of your mouth until you part them for him to delve in. His kiss was sloppy, wet, and filled with the adoration that drove him to grind against you— breaking the kiss to cry out when his cock lightly grazed your slit.

Gyutaro froze, breathless, cock weeping as it pressed between your folds, smearing his shaft with the sticky cum and saliva still coating your pussy. “Oh shit”, he shuddered from the sensation— from your coy smile and the warmth that spread as he rutted ever so slowly. As if he can’t quite make out what to do. Captivated by the touch of your wet slit smothering kisses on his long shaft. His sights locked on you, arms shaking as they grip your thighs, rocking back and forth with his mouth agape.

“Your pussy is so slippery”, he squeaked, it’s silky and soft. And the sound it makes when he slips his dick on your pussy lips over and over— is so lewd. A squelch of skin rubbing together, the thick crown of his cock grazing on your clit, trembling your tits as you gasp for him. Gyutaro stares in rapture, bucking his cock again to feel your nipples brush on his chest. “‘er so warm, ‘er pussy, uhh, so wet”, sticky strings glisten on his dick— deep groans tear out of his chest as his hips jerk against you desperately. Carelessly.

“Gyu- hun, not—”

“Ple-please”, his voice was rugged and croaked, thrusting into your gooey slit frantically, “don’ ask me to stop.”

You sighed breathily, tugging his shoulders and pulling him closer to your chest, desperate to feel his skin flush against yours. “No— harder”, you affirmed, “wan’ it harder, sweetie. Put it in.”

But he can’t, he doesn’t know how and the sensations are too much to stop. Something sensual— hot, flushes across his stomach. It’s hard and fast, and pulls his balls tight, quickening his pace. His muscles clenched, his mind melting into a drunken haze of lust. You give him this soft, little gasp every time, as if every grind of Gyutaro’s hips stutters a delightful little surprise quivering heat in your core.

He gaped down at you to find your eyes, lashes wet, lips parted and locked onto him. Your hands slide up to his chest, and you murmur something with the softest hint of desperation when you beg for more. Gyutaro opens his mouth, but only a huff slips out— his cock squishes on your puffy folds as he rubs and ruts and bucks on your pussy. “Fuck, uhh, ple-ease”, he babbles praises, rocking into you, faster and faster, the wet sheens of your skin splattering on his pubic hair— hastily humping and crying and cooing until splotches of creamy cum shoot out in thick ropes.

Gyutaro squeals on top of you, burying his face in your shoulder while you whisper reassurances, selfishly moving your hips to catch his blushed tip on your clit despite how he shakes through his release. Murmurs of good boy coax him out of the blissful dream— the one where he painted your pussy lips with his cum without even fucking you properly. It was wretched, and you still pressed kisses on his cheek.

“uhh, my cock still hurts”, he pouted, grinding his shaft harder into your cum soaked pussy, sloshes of white combining with your slick lewdly squelching between you. His cock was stiff and leaking more cum than ever despite the orgasms he spewed through the night— satisfaction not nearly enough when he hadn't even fucked you yet, only festering a deep seeded arousal no amount of petting and humping could satiate. He needed to be in you, in your skin— in your pussy, feel your walls clasp his cock and pulse upon his veins. Gyutaro needed it so much his teeth cracked from the tension in his jaws as he struggled to thrust into your hole, his inexperience beading sweat and shame.

“Fuck! How- I can’t put it in!” He wailed, palming your waist to hold you steady. His body nudges into yours clumsily, the fat head of his cock slipping past your hole every time he attempts to push inside. “It won’— ughh, it won’t go in!”

“Relax”, you pat his chest in an attempt to calm him— your words lost to him as he grows increasingly frustrated, gripping your waist too harshly you grimace when he pushes excessively roughly. “Gyu- wait, hun. Relax, no, not like that. Right here, wai-wait. Listen.”

He doesn’t. Gyutaro does not hear a word you say or bother to pay attention, entirely too raptured by the obscene sounds your bodies make as he ruts into you awkwardly— growling, huffing. “Go inside!! In-in-in!” He shouts with every thrust, “It won’-ahh, uhh- shiit”. Gyutaro sinks in with one hard stroke, and his eyes roll back from the tension that seizes his shaft, your pussy sucking him in, softening to the size of his thick cock. Spreading warmth as your tight walls quiver on his dick. “Fuu-uck, ‘er so hot, ahh-hahahaha”, he cackles to himself, a manic laughter that drowns the wild claps of wet skin slapping skin. Your own moans and sighs are saturated by his babbles that crack his voice through every other thrust.

“nghh-tight! ‘m fu-ucking you! ah-haha, sh-it, shit-shit! can’t stop, pretty! so’so warm, y’squeezing on my cock, ohh-uhh, ahh, yes! y’like it? ‘m fuckin’ you so-so good, mm? uhh-ahh, my dick feel good pretty? yeah? mm-hmm, pretty slut y’kno how to take dick, ahh-feels nice an’ big in ya’lil’ cunt. pussy so wet fo’me, she like it, yea? uhh-huh, she do- sss’uckin’ wet, nghh...Does-does it hurt? lemme make it hurt fo’you. make it hu-rt s’goo. jus like that, y’so pretty, takin’ my cock like this, cry fo’me. yea, yeah, cry-cry! Fuck-fuck-fuck! Imma-uhhh! Imma cum! Imma-‘mma cu-um!”

“Gyu—”

He seized your throat with both hands, capturing your breath and watching your eyes mist over with tears while he fucked you through his quick release. Howling as sprays of creamy white cum froth were your skins meet with every plunge. “Look at you”, he grunts, “so messy. Nasty girl.” his giggles wheeze when he plunges in deep into your spongy spot. Gyutaro barely slows down— rings of white smear his cock through his chaotic strokes into your cunt— he can only growl as your walls palpitate upon his shaft. Fumbling through a rhythm he can only hear in his head— yet every slam of his hips ruts his nestle of curls on your clit enough to make your chest heave. He doesn't note your anguished wheeze or the smacks you strike on his face to release his grip. Gyutaro stares at you with bloodshot eyes and drool hanging off his bottom lip burning a frightening leer that makes it known that he is a demon.

Selfish, powerful and rotten. Though a demon that cried for your touch, cooed about your beauty and kissed your soft skin throughout the night. Nonetheless, he was a demon too mesmerised by the heated arousal in his core and your blood warming his throat to care about your unfortunate lack of oxygen. He needed you still— his cock ached and twitched inside you. His mushroom tip pressed into your cervix like it was made for it. His balls slapped your ass with every thrust, yet they were still heavy— needy. Desperate to empty inside your warm cunt.

“‘mma break you, my lil’ cutie. make you full an’ round with my cum. fuck”, he growled, grin slanted. Ignoring your huffs to slow down when none of it mattered to him— especially not when he sunk his teeth into your shoulder, your body writhing as your cries gagged when he flexed his grip on your throat. Groaning brazenly, piercing your flesh, licking the bloodied skin and marking the other side with the same bites. You could feel his length stirring inside your silky walls from the visible evidence of his ownership— clamping more bites on your tits and collarbone, violent kisses that he admired by caressing his thumb on the indents of his love.

“y’like that? mmm, y’look so good fo’me, gon’ fill you with lots an’ lots of cum. ahh-uhhh, all-all leaky and wet- hahaha you cry so pretty. pretty girl cryn’ on my cock it makes me so-so hard. shit, make me cum again, shit-shit! y’feel so nice an’ hot on my cock. y’love my cock dontchya? nnggh- its why ‘ur makin’ su-such a dirty mess on me. nasty-na-asty girl, uhh-shit! do-don’ worry, I’ll cle-ean it up fo’ya. cause ya’my lil’ princess. mine-mine- mine!”

“oh, god”, you choke, black spots dancing across your vision, his voice far away as he rasps and snickers his dirty words, your body at the mercy of his pleasure with your lungs shrinking tight from every breath he denies you. Matching the brutality of his thrusts, delving in deep and stretching you wide, leaving a permanent imprint of his cock into your cushy walls. Bearing a cruel smirk as your mouth parts in horrid gasps, frantically holding onto consciousness while it continues to slip away— stutters of “oh god” are the only sounds you can manage beneath him.

Gyutaro snickers. “Nah”, he smirks, licking the tears off your cheeks. “is jus’ me, pretty. There is no god.”

Your pleas fall on deaf ears while the pain throbs in all the best ways— the pressure knotting in your belly soaking slick all over his cock, mixing with his gooey cum and foaming a sticky mixture that splashes in your cunt and smears all over his pubic bone. His thrusts jostle your body beneath his as sweat and cum cling you both together. You mutter his name incoherently, another orgasm building in your core, thighs shaking against his hips— strokes of his cock pushing deep in your belly in three thrusts until a voiceless scream rips from you and wet squirts gush on his dick.

“ahh-uhh, su-uch a dirty girl”, he purred, rocking with your trembling body from the intensity of your wet spurts splattering on his girth, “makin’ a big mess on me. ‘tis okay, y’did so-so well, s’goo fo’me. shhh.”

Your orgasm subsides, and the world around you darkens— limbs go lax and heavy, sinking into the blankets as his glowing eyes dim in their shine— shrouded in the darkness shading your vision.

“Princess?”

He shook you gently, blinking away the fog, thrusts shallowing into slow rolls as Gyutaro took a moment to clearly look at you. And you looked stunning; the hair you spent earlier in the evening brushing coiled into a nest of tangles on your pillow, and your supple skin was now an ornamentation of his passions. With bruises, scrapes and teeth indents yet to fade. Red flecks of dried blood marred your thighs, clothes torn, lashes wet with tears— the sight of you was captivating, and Gyutaro finally released your throat.

You gag in heaps of air, splutters of coughs and spit choke from you as you struggle to find your breath, blackness fading into colours that bleed together, but the only thing you can register is yellow.

“c’mere, pretty girl”, Gyutaro pulled you into his strong arms and settled back on his heels, nestling your trembling body on his lap while brushing your tears away. “‘m so’rry for hurting you, princess.” Kisses flutter on your neck, licking the inflated skin as his way of apologising, allowing his healing to fade the dark colours into pretty shades he admired. Gyutaro hummed into your shoulder, idly bouncing you on his cock in gentle glides as you catch your breath in his arms. “I couldn’ help myself, ‘m so sorry.” His kisses held the faintest imprint of a smirk, the apologies lacking sincerity despite how they caressed your ear.

“Did I hurt my girl?”

You nodded timidly, curling your arms around his neck, deliriously seeking solace from the creature who caused your discomfort and leaning into his heated touch as he stroked your back in soothing circles. You shouldn't have, but you melted into it— into his kisses and his faux apologies, allowing him to lift you up and down his cock lazily. Taking the time to explore every column of your neck with his wet tongue. The new angle made your cunt hug every inch and ridge of his dick, greedily suckling on the sensitive flesh with his balls tight beneath your ass and a mess of combined frothy cum sticking on your laps.

“One more?” Gyutaro giggled when you shook your head. “yes you can”, he insists, pecking your cheeks with wet kisses. “yes you can, pretty. cum one more time fo’rme, yea? yes, my pretty, pretty girl with the pretty pussy. ya’pussy love me, I know she do, I know she wants one more.”

Your hair tickled his cheeks when you shook your head, hoarse objections triggering more of his giggles. “Gyu, no, please- ‘tis too much.” You shuffleed closer, chests pressed, thighs resting around his hips, your own kisses fluttering on his jaw in sweet pecks as a way to entice him to let you sleep. To breathe. And though your bodies rock gently together, you can feel his rigid erection inside you, whereas the exhaustion exuded from your every pore. “Gyu, let’s rest, kay?” you tiredly murmured while you glided your fingers through his curls, moaning through the jerks of your bodies with the stench of sweat and cum stirring in the air, yet none of it registers to him the way it does for you.

Gyutaro only hummed, the pulse on his cock a restless arousal compared to the fatigue weighing on your eyelids— he moved you achingly slow. Canting his hips to eye how his thick shaft reappears coated in a warm layer of cum from the copious amounts he released into you, creating little bubbles at the base with every drag. As if he was savouring the touch of your pussy sliding up and down his length, basking in the comfort of your body curled into his. “Feel good, yea?” He chuckled airly.

“Yea”, you whined sweetly, leaning into him, “all yours, Gyu.” The warmth you radiate seeps into his as you cuddle into his chest, kiss his face, tug on his hair and whisper his name in soft gaps. Unaware of how his smile faded.

Gyutaro stiffened, swallowing a nasty lump in his throat from the implication of your tender words. You held him, his sordid body with black marks and spindly limbs, you kissed him as if he were something precious to you, and the sentiment overwhelmed him. His obsession festered now the more your soft lips brushed along his scars.

“You’re mine now, okay?” He growled into your neck, voice no more than a tortured rasp, arms clenching tight around your waist, exhibiting the adamant force of his adoration. “I’ll come for you every night, kay? I’ll come for you and make you feel so-so good, princess. I'll protect you, listen”, he gruffed, pulling back to grip your chin, forcing you to see the dark devotion burning in his gaze when he said, “You’re mine.”

“Okay”, you muttered sleepily, the tenderness in your throat adding to the lightheaded weariness sinking your body, finally succumbing to the blood loss that twinkled spots you couldn't blink away.

Gyutaro growled, meanly squeezing your cheeks and forcing clarity in your haze to make you witness the sinister gravity of his affections. And when you looked at him, when you settled your misty eyes on him and smiled— it bloomed a warmth that made his chest ache. “Repeat after me”, he rasped, “I am yours.”

“I am yours.”

“And you’re mine.”

“Say it.”

You smiled dreamily, tugging on his hair to make him slant his head down and graze your lips against his.

“I am yours, and you’re mine.”

“Good girl”, Gyutaro caressed your face gently, sliding his fingers through your hair exactly how he imagined doing all those nights he spent watching you. And it was everything. This time, when he kissed you, it was the gentlest press upon your forehead. “C’mon, pretty girl”, he whispered, “one more.”

His snickers blocked your huffs as he bent you over with your thighs cinched to your chest, mounting you into a position you couldn’t wriggle yourself out of. “Sh-it”, was the only thing he could manage, cock plunging in your sopping cunt in fast succession, sinking into the warmth of your body as the heat glowed. His strangled moans trickle drool on your lips, pitiful gasps escaping with his heavy thrusts from the new angle. “All mine, yea?" he gruffed, “yeah you are, m’girl. my dirty girl so cock hungry.” Gyutaro gazed deep into your eyes, committing everything to memory. Your shudders, moans and cries of his name, how your eyes roll when he presses into your cervix, how your chest heaves when he brushes against your clit.

You truly were a dream, and as he pumped you full of his cock, your pussy spasming along his length, Gyutaro whispered praises. Low rasps of “pretty girl”, and “I’ll kill for you”, merged with your moans, creating a sensual melody echoed by the wet sounds of skin clapping together through his heavy thrusts.

“th-thats it, that’s my girl. so-so pretty. cummin’ all over me. so-so wet haha- ahh, fuck-fuck! ri-ight here, fuck you like this? y’like it? dick feel goo’, yea? I kno’ it do, y’squeezin’on me again, ‘er jus’ a dirty lil’ cunt, huh? Wan’ cock so-so bad, lettin’ a demon fuck you hahaha-ahh-fuck-fuck! feel so’goo’ ahh-shit! I can’ wait to see yo’again. fu-uuck, wait for me, pretty. I’ll take goo’ care of you. yea? y’like that? wan’ be all mine, huh. mmm-shit, tight! so-so tight, uhh-uhh, yes! yes-yes-yes!”

You nodded through his babbles, answering him with yes and right there, lost in the fog of his arousal. you were almost drunk on it. Drunk on his strength, his affection, his cock pounding in and out of your soft cunt, balls slapping against your ass flaring heat in your core while praises stumbled, losing their coherency the harder Gyutaro fucked you until it all burst.

Cum splashes out in wet squirts and spills in goopy sprays as you both moan through your combined orgasm, trembling together with him slumped on top of you— finally satiated.

His body melted into yours in bliss, panting widely, body heavy as he laid half on top of you, nuzzling his sweaty forehead into your hair with a delirious giggle.

“such a good girl”, he cooed with a silly smile, gently easing out of your quivering pussy only for sloshes of mixed cum to ooze out of your cunt in thick spurts. “Fuck, so-so dirty, we made a mess.”

You couldn't hear him past your own erratic pulse while Gyutaro sniggered as he fingered the white substance, mesmerised by the gooey essence coating your bodies, quietly watching you catch your breath for a moment longer. Safe and warm.

The breeze from the open balcony did nothing to soothe the heat emitting from your bodies. Not after the events of the sordid night now only filled by deep huffs and quiet giggles between the sheets. tangled in a mess of limbs, cum and sweat.

Gyutaro curled into you from behind, holding you gently with his hands roaming your delicate curves, surrendering to his desires now that the fire in his core was finally sated. Kisses littered on your shoulders while you come down from the high, his smile evident against your sweat-coated skin, whispers of praise lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

The silence stretched peacefully as the evening came to an end. the streams of moonlight dimmed through the sheer curtains, showing the world that dawn was not far on the horizon.

You heard him sigh.

“I’ll be back, ‘kay?”

You couldn’t help but pout, fighting the sleep in your eyes to peer at your sweet demon over your shoulder.

“You’re leaving?”

“I’ll be back soon, promise.” he declared, a crooked smirk peeking through as he stood tugging on his torn pants. “you should take a long bath.”

You nodded in response, watching his hulking frame disappear from your balcony, leaving you in the mess of putrid sex clinging to your skin.

“I’ll be watchin’.”

You huffed a laugh he could hear through the wind, letting it carry his name with it as you hummed to yourself a new song with the word Gyutaro flowing in the gentlest melody.

Another tune he admired in the late hours of the night, the promise of tomorrow heavy in the air as he slinked back into the shadows.

THE END.

tags// @olenoname @coocoocatchoo @mercymccann @404starlight

a/n: reblogs are appreciated. dm me if you're interested in commissioning a story x

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geraldwang · 3 months ago

Text

Cheer Up, Inkblot

The underground fight ended with a broken nose, a blood-slick floor, and a crowd screaming Gyutaro’s name like he was some mythic monster summoned from the dark.

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t gloat.

He stood there, chest heaving, ink-black birthmarks gleaming with sweat under flickering basement lights. His opponent wheezed somewhere behind him. The next challenger hadn’t moved from the corner. Smart.

Then- “Break it up! Now!”

Flashlights cut through the crowd. Adults’ voices followed—authority, panic, outrage.

Gyutaro didn’t run.

He never did.

Two days later, Gyutaro sat in the principal’s office like he owned it—legs spread, arms crossed, jaw locked in permanent contempt.

“You’re out of chances,” the principal droned. “Your record is stacked high enough to collapse under its own weight.”

Gyutaro tilted his head. “So expel me already.”

“No,” said the teacher beside him—Kamado-sensei, the only one who spoke to him like he was still human. “You need discipline. Teamwork. Something you can’t punch your way through.”

Gyutaro rolled his eyes.

“You’re joining the cheer team.”

That got his attention.

“What.”

“You’re a base now,” Kamado continued, unbothered. “You’ve got the strength, the balance, and your sister vouched for you. Think of it as physical rehab for your temper.”

“Ume what?” he muttered.

“She thinks it’ll be good for you to see what she’s passionate about.”

That was low.

That was smart.

Gyutaro scratched the inside of his arm, nails digging into already raw skin. His face remained blank.

“…Fine.”

Practice opened with cold silence the second Gyutaro stepped into the gym.

He moved like a shadow—wide shoulders, rangy frame, the black ink-like markings on his face and neck making every cheerleader shrink away like he might bite.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t smile. He stood by the edge of the mats, radiating ‘do not touch me’ energy while the squad whispered behind hands and ponytails.

Someone muttered, “Didn’t he break that guy’s ribs?”

Someone else hissed, “Why would Ume bring him here?”

Ume, to her credit, kept her chin up and glared anyone who looked at her brother too long. Still, even she looked... exhausted.

He caught a flyer wrong.

She didn’t fall—but she tensed mid-air like he was poison, and the second she hit the ground, she pulled away from him like she’d been burned.

Gyutaro said nothing. His jaw was tight. Hands shaking.

Ume pulled him aside after practice.

“You need to look less like you're about to snap someone’s spine.”

“I wasn’t.”

“They don’t know that.”

The pyramid was halfway up when it happened.

Gyutaro was locked in place, arms steady, focus sharp—but the flyer above him, already anxious, panicked the second her foot hit his shoulder.

Her balance tipped.

The top row screamed.

The whole structure crumpled.

Girls crashed into each other, hit the mats. A flyer landed sideways with a thud. One of the bases curled up, clutching her arm. Ume's voice cracked like a whip.

“What the hell was that?!”

“She freaked out! It’s his fault!”

“He was holding his position! You dropped the line—”

“I’m not letting that guy touch me again! He’s freaky! He—he didn’t even try to help!”

“Because you were already falling!”

Gyutaro stood in the middle of it. Silent. Breathing hard through his nose. His knuckles were white at his sides.

And then—

The gym door opened.

Your shoes clicked against the floor like punctuation. The noise, the tension, the arguing—it all paused the moment you walked in.

Some girls relaxed. Others straightened.

You were back.

Finally.

You glanced around once, taking in the wreckage—the unsteady squad, Ume fuming, a girl crying, a ruined pyramid—and then your eyes landed on him.

Tall. Still. Solid.

Covered in sweat and judgment.

And muscles.

Your first thought wasn’t “That’s the guy from fight club.” It was: “That’s the most stable damn base I’ve ever seen.”

You walked to the center of the mat like it was yours. Because it was.

“What happened?” you asked, voice clean and crisp.

“She panicked,” Ume said before anyone else could start twisting the story. “Gyutaro held. She lost her footing. The rest went with her.”

You looked at the flyer, still nursing bruised pride. “Anyone hurt?”

A few shakes of the head. Some muttering.

“Then reset,” you said.

The flyer sputtered. “But—but he—”

You cut her off with a glance.

“He did his job. You didn’t.”

Then you turned to Gyutaro, not blinking.

“You. Base for me.”

He stared at you for a moment. Long enough for half the team to collectively hold their breath.

“…We haven’t practiced,” he said.

You nodded. “Then we start now.”

You didn’t wait.

You walked to the center mat, started stretching your arms, rolling your shoulders.

“You look strong,” you said without turning back. “Let’s see if you’re stable too.”

He was already following.

The squad gathered off to the side, whispering and fake-stretching as they pretended not to watch.

You stood at the center, already crouched into pre-lift stance, focused and loose like you'd never left. You didn’t even glance at Gyutaro. Just spoke.

“Step up.”

He hesitated—not visibly, not enough for anyone else to notice—but you caught the micro-delay.

Then his foot hit the mat behind you, and he moved into place.

His hands hovered, unsure where to grab. You looked over your shoulder, deadpan.

“Hips,” you said.

He raised a brow.

“I’m not gonna bite you.”

Gyutaro didn’t smile, but something flickered behind his eyes—irritation or curiosity or both. He placed his hands on your hips. Big, calloused palms. Controlled grip. No shaking.

You nodded once, confirming his stance. “Good. Lock it. I’m going up.”

And then—

You jumped.

He moved with you like a reflex. One push, one perfect snap of timing, and your feet cleared his shoulders in a heartbeat. His arms extended to brace, every muscle flexing as he stabilized you up high, rock steady like a statue carved from rage and repressed trauma.

No sway. No shake.

You were airborne—balanced.

Still.

Then you looked down at him.

“Not bad,” you said, calm, cool, confident.

His eyes snapped up to yours.

You weren’t afraid.

Not of falling. Not of him.

And that landed harder than any punch he’d ever taken.

No one had ever looked at him like that.

Not when he was holding something breakable.

He didn’t speak. Just kept you steady.

Like you were the most natural thing in the world.

You held the pose for a count, sharp and proud, and then called, “Dismount.”

He caught you on the way down.

Easy. Solid. Clean.

Your feet hit the mat, and you didn’t wobble once.

You turned to face him, still close, still measuring.

“You catch everyone like that?”

He blinked once. “No.”

You nodded, satisfied.

“Good.”

Then you turned and clapped twice. “Alright, let’s reset the full stunt. Pyramid formation on my count. Let’s make it clean.”

The team scrambled into motion, everyone suddenly quieter, tighter, more focused.

You didn’t have to look to know Gyutaro was still watching you.

He didn’t speak the whole rest of practice.

But when you called his name, he moved without question.

When you needed a base, he was under you before you finished the word.

He didn’t flinch when your hands touched his shoulders, didn’t tense when your foot stepped into his palms.

You gave him structure.

And for the first time in a long time—

He wanted to hold something steady.

One afternoon between classes, Gyutaro was slamming his locker shut when he heard your voice behind him.

"Hey, Inkblot," you called, easy and light, like it was the most natural thing in the world for you to stroll right up to him.

He stiffened instantly — a lifetime of habit — his body coiled tight like he expected a threat. He turned, a glare already tugging at his face, automatic.

But when he met your eyes, all bright and amused, the sharpness drained out of him. You weren’t scared. You weren’t mocking him. You were just... there, grinning like you knew some secret he didn’t.

"You busy after school?" you asked, casually leaning a shoulder against the row of lockers beside him. "Come to the gym early today. I’ve got something I want to try with you."

The words weren’t a request — they were a confident expectation. Like you already knew he’d agree.

Gyutaro blinked, confused. His first instinct was to tell you to get lost, or at least give you a rough shrug and walk away. He didn’t owe you anything. But before he could say anything, he caught the way the hallway around them had gone weirdly silent. The way people were staring.

The way they whispered, darting looks at the two of them.

The way some guys — the ones who wouldn't have dared meet his eye before — looked downright jealous.

It sent a petty little thrill slithering through his chest.

For once, he was the one being sought out. He was the one someone wanted. And not just anyone — you.

He fought to keep the crooked little smirk off his face, just rolled a shoulder in his typical slouchy, disinterested way. "Whatever," he muttered, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

But inside — inside he was already counting the minutes, tapping his heel against the tile like he could somehow make the day move faster.

You gave him a two-fingered salute and sauntered off, leaving him standing there with a locker door dented under his fist and a heart pounding so loud he was sure people could hear it.

Gyutaro stared after you for a second longer than he meant to.

Then he caught one of the dumbasses from math class gawking and nearly bared his teeth at him.

Yeah. He was definitely showing up early today.

When he showed up, you were already there — stretching out easily on the gym mats, the golden late-afternoon sun casting long shadows across the floor.

He paused in the doorway without meaning to, taking in the way you moved — like you owned the space.

You adjusted your waistband casually, thumbs hooking under the elastic and tugging your shorts lower so they sat right against your hips. It was such an absent-minded, natural motion, but Gyutaro nearly gave himself whiplash trying not to watch.

He dragged his gaze up to the ceiling like maybe God would save him if he looked holy enough, then busied himself pretending to scope the gym out — like he was just waiting for the others. Like his blood wasn’t roaring in his ears.

"You ready?" you called out, voice bright and easy.

"Yeah," he muttered, rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat, feeling like a total idiot.

You beckoned him over with two fingers, and he had no choice but to obey.

"So here’s the deal," you said, a glint in your eye. "I’ve been dying to try a new move. It's kind of crazy but I think you’re the only one who can pull it off."

You outlined the plan — a complicated swing-and-climb stunt that basically turned him into your own personal jungle gym. The instructions should’ve been overwhelming, but Gyutaro found himself nodding along, absorbing every word.

"Think you can handle it?" you teased, cocking a brow at him, a playful dare in your voice.

He snorted, rolling his shoulders back. "Course I can," he said, sounding more sure than he felt.

You grinned like you already knew he wouldn’t fail you.

And then — without a second thought — you climbed him.

Your hands were firm on his shoulders, your foot bracing against the muscle of his thigh. You moved so naturally it was like you trusted him completely, no hesitation, no fear. It lit something hot and volatile inside him, something that twisted low in his stomach.

Gyutaro stayed grounded, every muscle alive under your touch. He shifted instinctively when your weight leaned — adjusting his stance, his grip — hyper-aware of every brush of your skin against his.

It wasn’t just about not dropping you.

It was about making sure you never even felt unsteady.

And then — casual, like you didn’t even know you were wrecking him — you squeezed his bicep.

"Perfect hold," you said, approving and pleased.

For a split second, Gyutaro's brain blanked completely. He understood instantly why all those other guys before him buckled under you — that little touch, that tiny bit of praise, it was lethal.

He forced himself to breathe through it, setting his jaw, refusing to crumble. He wasn’t going to be just another idiot.

You continued, twisting effortlessly around his torso, climbing higher, and finally — you settled easily on his shoulders like it was the most natural place in the world for you to be. Perched there like a queen.

You tapped his forehead lightly, playful.

"Solid," you said, grinning down at him. "This is gonna kill when we show it off."

Gyutaro tightened his hands lightly at your knees, steadying you — steadying himself.

And somewhere deep inside him, something fierce and almost hopeful unfurled in his chest.

Maybe — maybe — this didn’t suck after all.

Maybe being your base wasn’t the punishment he thought it was, it was the beginning of something he hadn’t even dared to want.

The next day, you made it official.

After a few more successful practice runs — each one smoother and faster than the last — you clapped your hands sharply to get everyone’s attention. The team circled up around you and Gyutaro in the gym, some of them looking curious, some already wary.

"Watch close," you said, voice confident. You threw Gyutaro a quick glance — a silent ready? — and he gave a short nod.

Without hesitation, you moved.

Hands planting on his shoulders, foot stepping onto the solid brace of his thigh, you launched into the climb-and-swing maneuver you’d been perfecting. Gyutaro moved with you like instinct — a living, breathing anchor — adjusting the minute shifts in your balance with a stability that made it look effortless. Every catch was seamless. Every turn, precise.

He didn’t even notice how tightly his jaw was locked, how sharply focused he was on you alone — until you slid into place on his shoulders like a crown set on a king.

A heartbeat of stillness. You dismounted gracefully, landing beside him with barely a sound.

The gym echoed faintly with awkward clapping. A few half-hearted whistles.

But nobody — not one person — stepped forward to volunteer to try it next.

Someone muttered, "Maybe... with someone else."

Gyutaro heard it clear as day. Another kid flinched when Gyutaro shifted his weight slightly, like even the idea of him moving was a threat.

A familiar ache curled up in his chest — not anger, not really. Just the old, bitter knowledge that he didn’t belong here. Not really. No matter how good he was. No matter how hard he tried.

He let out a dry, humorless puff of air through his nose and dropped his gaze to the floor. Figures.

But then — You.

You, who had trusted him without a blink. You, who had touched him like he wasn’t something to flinch from. You, who called him Inkblot with an affectionate smirk instead of a sneer.

You were furious.

"You serious?" you snapped, voice slicing through the thick tension like a blade. Even Gyutaro flinched a little at the sheer command in your tone.

"You watched it work. You saw it. And you're still scared?"

The others shifted uneasily, avoiding your burning gaze, suddenly very interested in their shoes.

"No one's gonna grow if you can't get over yourselves," you barked, stepping forward, forcing them all to look at you. "You think it’s easy to put yourself in someone else's hands? You think it’s easy to carry people? To stay steady no matter what?"

You jabbed a finger toward Gyutaro without even looking at him — like it was obvious.

"This guy’s doing it better than any of you ever could, and you can't even manage a little basic trust?"

Silence. Thick, miserable silence.

Your jaw tightened. Then, with deadly calm, you pointed at the track visible just beyond the gym doors.

"Run. Now. Twenty laps. Maybe you’ll build a backbone while you're at it."

The team scattered like mice, stumbling over themselves to get outside before you found a harsher punishment.

Gyutaro just... stared at you.

At the fierce set of your shoulders. At the way your chest rose and fell with frustration. At the way you didn’t even glance at him for validation — because you didn’t need to. You already knew you were right.

Nobody — nobody — had ever fought for him like that. Not since Ume had still been a little girl with a chipped tooth and fists full of fury on his behalf.

And right there, in that emptying gym, Gyutaro felt something dangerous and terrifying twist low in his stomach.

He cared.

He cared what you thought of him.

And somehow, he knew — deep down — that if he let himself, he'd start caring about a lot more than that.

The team stampeded out of the gym, sneakers slapping against the track as they started their punishment laps. The heavy metal doors swung shut behind them with a hollow clang, leaving the gym suddenly quiet again.

You turned back toward Gyutaro, expression softening a little. Some of the storm faded from your eyes, replaced with something almost… apologetic.

“They're not usually like this," you said, voice low. "They shouldn't judge anyone. Especially not someone who's done nothing but—"

"‘S fine," Gyutaro cut you off before you could keep going, throwing up one hand lazily. His mouth twisted into a rough, bitter grin.

"Who wants some ugly, marked-up thug grabbin’ them anyway? I wouldn’t."

It was meant to sound like a joke. Self-deprecating. Easy to shrug off.

But it didn't land like that.

Not with you.

You crossed the space between you without hesitation, coming to stand right in front of him. Close enough he could see every detail of your face — the serious line of your brow, the slight downward pull at the corners of your mouth.

"Don't talk about yourself like that," you said quietly. Firm. No room for argument.

Gyutaro blinked, thrown off balance by how serious you looked.

"You’re strong," you continued, voice unwavering. "You’re intuitive. You notice things nobody else does. You pick up moves faster than people who’ve been training for years."

He opened his mouth to scoff, to say whatever, but you didn’t let him.

"And your marks?" You tilted your head a little, eyes flicking across the dark, ink-like patterns sprawled across his face, his arms. You smiled — really smiled — and Gyutaro felt something in his chest clench painfully.

"I think they're cool," you said simply. "They make you distinct. Interesting. You stand out. You should be proud of that."

He stared at you.

Words clogged in his throat, thick and clumsy. He didn't know what the hell he was supposed to say to that.

Nobody had ever said anything like that to him. Not teachers. Not classmates. Not adults. No one — except Ume, maybe, when they were younger and the world hadn’t ground them down yet.

And now you, standing there like it was the easiest thing in the world to see worth in him.

He looked away, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

"You're weird," he muttered under his breath.

But his ears were red.

And you just laughed — light and bright, like windchimes again — the sound slipping straight under his skin and settling somewhere deep he didn’t want to look too closely at.

The sky was darkening by the time Gyutaro left the school grounds. He didn’t bother waiting for Ume — she’d run off earlier with a bunch of her friends, too wrapped up in plans for some weekend thing to even notice him.

Which was fine. Better this way, honestly.

He jammed his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie, hunched his shoulders, and started the long walk home alone.

The cracked sidewalk passed under his feet in a steady rhythm, but his mind wasn't nearly as steady. It kept circling back to you. To the way you’d looked at him — steady and real — when you told him he was strong, smart, that his birthmarks made him distinct.

Distinct. Not ugly. Not scary. Cool.

No one had ever said that to him. Not once.

And the worst part — the part that made his hands clench and unclench inside his pockets — was that he wanted to believe you. He wanted it so badly it hurt.

He scowled at the ground, kicking a loose pebble into the gutter.

Stupid.

It didn’t mean anything. You were just being nice. You were that kind of person — probably felt bad for him, thought you were doing him some big favor by being kind.

That had to be it.

Because the alternative — that you actually saw something in him — was too dangerous to even consider.

The walk stretched on.

Gyutaro told himself it didn’t matter. That he didn’t care.

Except he did.

Because every time he closed his eyes, he saw the way you smiled when you talked about his strength. He heard that windchime laugh, light and easy and nothing like the world he was used to. And worse — way worse — he caught himself thinking about how good you looked at practice. The firm line of your calves when you planted your feet to lift off. The curve of your hips when you adjusted your stance. The flash of bare midriff when you reached up to fix your hair.

He hated it. Hated how easy it was for his eyes to find you without meaning to. Hated how bad he wanted your attention.

He shoved his hood up over his head and kept walking, faster now, like he could outrun the thoughts clawing at the inside of his skull.

You didn’t see him that way. You probably never would.

He was just a base to you. A tall, stable object to stand on, to swing from, to land on.

That's all.

He repeated it over and over in his head like a mantra. And if his chest felt tight the whole way home, well — that was just something he’d deal with later.

Alone.

Like always.

Weeks slipped by in a strange, uncomfortable rhythm.

Practice after practice, Gyutaro found himself being handed more things to like about you. The way your nose scrunched slightly when you concentrated. The way you never hesitated to correct someone — including him — without being cruel about it. The way you praised people without making it feel fake, even him. The way you laughed, not forced but bright and easy, and how it got under his skin every single damn time.

The rest of the team had started to come around too. Slowly, awkwardly, but it was happening. People passed him flyers without dropping them like they were scared. Some even started to joke with him — carefully, hesitantly — like they were realizing maybe he wasn’t about to bite their heads off.

All except one girl, but Gyutaro couldn’t even be bothered to remember her name. Why would he care about her opinion when the only thing he could see anymore was you?

He could tell you trusted him. Relied on him. You picked him for the hardest lifts without a second thought. You grinned at him like you knew he would never let you fall.

You were under his skin so deep he didn’t even bother trying to dig you out.

It was a normal day when he got called into Principal Kamado’s office.

At first, Gyutaro thought it had to be a mistake — a reflexive twitch of guilt shot through him even though he hadn’t done a damn thing wrong. No fights. No vandalism. No screaming matches in the hallways.

He shuffled in reluctantly, hands jammed into the pockets of his hoodie.

Principal Kamado — a short, perpetually tired-looking man — actually smiled when he saw him.

“Gyutaro. Good to see you.”

That alone made Gyutaro want to turn around and check if someone was standing behind him.

"You've done well," Kamado said, flipping through a clipboard. "I've seen a real improvement. No incidents. Good reports from teachers. Even... cooperation in extracurriculars."

Gyutaro stiffened but said nothing.

"Which brings us to this: this week will be your last week in cheerleading."

The words hit harder than he expected.

Kamado kept talking about learning lessons, good influences, personal growth — but Gyutaro barely heard any of it. All he could think about was that this would be the end. No more practices. No more excuses to see you almost every day. No more subtle, electrifying brushes of your hand against his arm. No more looking up and seeing you grinning at him like he was someone worth smiling at.

No more you.

Gyutaro didn’t react outwardly. Didn’t twitch. Didn’t blink.

But inside, his stomach twisted into something ugly and bitter.

What the hell was wrong with him? Getting bent out of shape over something so stupid. You weren’t his. You never would be.

And worst of all — he caught himself thinking that he would miss the way your body fit against his when you launched into stunts. He flinched at the thought, disgusted with himself.

Get it together, he told himself savagely. Creep.

He trudged to practice that afternoon, feeling heavier than usual. You were stretching when he arrived, and you beamed at him like you always did — easy, bright, beautiful.

It almost made him turn around and leave before he could embarrass himself.

Instead, he forced himself to walk over, slouching slightly like he could make himself smaller.

When you noticed the look on his face, your smile faltered just a little.

"What’s up, Inkblot?" you asked, cheerful but curious.

He shrugged, looking anywhere but at you.

"Last week," he said roughly. "Principal said I'm done after this."

You blinked, and for a second — just a second — you looked genuinely sad. It almost knocked him over.

"Oh," you said softly, pushing your hair behind your ear. "That’s... soon."

You fiddled with the hem of your shirt, looking thoughtful.

"If you wanted to, you could stick around after this week," you said casually, like it wasn’t ripping his ribs open with your stupid hopefulness. "You’ve been a better base than most of the guys who actually wanted to do this."

You grinned at him again, trying to lighten the mood.

Gyutaro knew what you were doing. He could see it.

You wanted him to stay. Not because you needed him — but because you wanted him around.

He opened his mouth.

Closed it again.

Finally, he shrugged like he didn’t care, like the inside of his chest wasn’t crumbling to dust.

"Ain't got a reason to stick around," he said flatly.

You hesitated.

But you nodded, respecting his answer even if you clearly didn’t agree with it.

Gyutaro didn’t meet your eyes for the rest of practice.

Because if he did, he knew he’d never survive it.

Something was... off.

Gyutaro didn’t consider himself the most observant when it came to other people — unless they were throwing punches — but even he noticed it.

You were slower today. Distracted.

Moves you normally hit without blinking needed correcting. He found himself catching you by the waist, steadying your landings, adjusting your center of gravity mid-air more than usual.

Nobody else seemed to catch it. Maybe because you still wore that same easy smile, still barked encouragements, still led practice like you always had.

But Gyutaro noticed.

Because you were the only one who let him touch you without flinching. The only one who trusted him to catch you every time.

And today, it was like you were trusting him extra hard — leaning into him a second longer than necessary, squeezing the curve of his shoulder or the firmness of his bicep like you needed the reassurance.

Or maybe he needed it.

Either way, it twisted something deep in his gut.

At the end of practice, you waved to him like normal, that soft, sad smile tugging at your lips.

He didn’t know what to do with it, so he just lifted a hand in an awkward half-wave and watched you leave.

The next day?

You were back to normal.

Sharp. Energetic. Unbothered.

If Gyutaro didn’t know better, he would’ve thought yesterday was all in his head. Maybe he was losing it.

But there was something new too — something that gnawed at the edges of his brain like a dog with a bone.

You were... more hands-on.

When you climbed into position, you grabbed at his arms, his shoulders, even his sides with more familiarity than before. Your hands lingered when you adjusted your grip. You squeezed his muscles once or twice without thinking — like you were testing him, reaffirming that he was solid, steady, yours to rely on.

Gyutaro felt every touch like a damn brand against his skin.

It took every ounce of willpower not to react. Not to stiffen or jerk or — god forbid — look at you with all the messy, confused feelings choking him up from the inside out.

He was a rock.

He had to be.

Especially when you looked so damn happy with him. Especially when he realized he’d never want anything more than to be whatever you needed him to be.

At the end of practice, as everyone was packing up, you jogged over to him. Your cheeks were flushed from exertion, eyes bright.

He was halfway through pulling on his hoodie when you poked him in the side — right against the dip of muscle there — and grinned up at him.

"You’re coming tomorrow, right?"

Gyutaro grunted, tugging his hoodie down.

"Yeah. S'last day," he muttered.

You nodded, hands resting on your hips.

"Good. I’ve got a surprise for you."

He blinked down at you, suspicious. "Surprise?"

You just smiled — secretive, warm — and patted his arm like you were proud of him.

"You’ll see, Inkblot."

And then you turned and jogged off, tossing a wink over your shoulder like it was no big deal.

Leaving him standing there like a damn fool, hoodie half-zipped, heart beating way too fast for something as stupid as a wink.

Practice that day felt different.

Lighter somehow.

Everyone was cooperating better than usual, no screw-ups, no weird tension clinging to the air. You moved through the routines like you didn’t have a care in the world — laughing easily, teasing your teammates when they stumbled, praising Gyutaro like he was the foundation of the whole damn team.

And he...

He was trying not to drown in the way your face lit up every time he caught you perfectly.

It almost made him forget it was his last day.

Almost.

When practice wound down, you clapped your hands together, drawing everyone's attention.

"Alright!" you called, practically bouncing on your toes. "Nobody leave yet. I've got something planned."

Confused glances were exchanged. Gyutaro just crossed his arms, watching you suspiciously as you jogged off toward the lockers.

A few minutes later, you came back — dragging a cart with boxes of pizza, sodas, chips, and even a tiny cake with "Thanks, Inkblot!" written in messy icing across the top.

The others cheered.

Gyutaro... just stared.

You had done all this. For him.

Not because you had to. Not because someone made you. Because you wanted to.

For the first time in his whole damn life — outside of Ume — someone cared enough to celebrate him.

The pit in his stomach threatened to turn into something sharp and overwhelming, so he ducked his head and muttered a gruff, "Tch... 's stupid..." under his breath.

But when Ume elbowed him hard in the ribs, grinning like she knew exactly what was happening in his brain, he just scowled at her.

"You liiiike her," she sing-songed under her breath, practically bouncing with glee.

"Shut up," he growled low, barely resisting the urge to shove her across the damn room.

"And she likes you too, dummy. How can you not see it?!" she whispered, giggling before darting away before he could catch her.

Gyutaro grit his teeth, choosing instead to focus on stuffing a slice of pizza into his mouth before he said something he'd regret.

The party was... good. Better than he thought possible.

Some of the team members — the same ones who'd been terrified of him at the beginning — came up and clapped him on the shoulder, said thanks, good luck, stuff like that.

He didn’t know what to say, but he grunted through it without glaring at them. (Too much.)

Even the coach stopped by briefly to wish him well.

It was almost perfect.

Almost.

Because just as Gyutaro was starting to think maybe this wasn't a terrible memory to add to his life, he heard it.

A loud, disgusted voice slicing through the noise like a knife.

"Finally," the girl sneered, loud enough for half the gym to hear. "The monster's leaving."

It punched the air straight out of his lungs.

He clenched his fists at his sides, nails biting into his palms. Of course. Should’ve known it was too good to last.

He told himself it didn’t matter. He'd heard worse. He was worse, wasn't he?

So he turned away. Pretended not to hear it.

Until—

Splash.

The girl yelped, sputtering as soda dripped down her hair and soaked into her shirt.

Everyone froze.

You stood there, holding your now-empty cup like it was a weapon.

Your face was calm. Deadly.

"I don't like people," you said clearly, voice carrying over the stunned silence, "who can barely hold a basic stunt without panicking but act like they're god's gift to the team."

The girl stared at you, furious and humiliated.

"And I especially don't like people who are cruel for no reason," you finished.

"And with that — you're officially kicked out of the squad."

The girl opened her mouth, but the look you leveled at her made her think better of it. She turned and stormed out, a few of her friends trailing after her.

You exhaled, puffing your chest out like you’d just finished a battle you were ready to win from the beginning, and turned back to the rest of the team.

"Party's still on," you chirped, voice sunny again.

By the time the party wound down, most of the others had trickled out. Even Ume had gone, claiming she'd forgotten something in the gym and would "totally" come back for it later.

(Yeah, right.)

Which left just you and Gyutaro, wandering the mats, pretending to look for whatever "missing" thing Ume had lied about.

You spotted it first — a forgotten hair tie — and held it up with a soft laugh.

"Found it," you said.

He approached slowly, still a little off balance from everything.

When he reached out to take it, your fingers brushed his palm — warm, sure — and before he could pull back, you tugged him down.

Pressed your lips against his.

Gyutaro froze.

Every muscle locked up.

He stood there like a statue, wide-eyed, tasting your chapstick and breathing your warmth and not comprehending any of it.

It felt like the ground had dropped out beneath him — except you were there, anchoring him, grounding him in a way nothing ever had before.

Your lips — soft, real, yours — had just been on his.

It didn't make sense. It couldn't make sense.

His hands shot up automatically, gripping your shoulders and pushing you gently but firmly back to arm’s length — not rough, not mean — just overwhelmed.

He stared at you, breathing unevenly, like you'd just yanked the floor out from under him and he was still trying to figure out which way was up.

Your laughter broke the thick tension between you — light and bright, curling through the gym like sunlight cutting through a storm.

"You look like you got hit by a truck," you teased, smiling so warmly it made his chest ache.

He blinked at you, still trying to reboot his brain.

Finally, you tilted your head at him, eyes sparkling.

"Are you really that surprised?" you asked.

And that’s when the words tumbled out — raw, clumsy, brutally honest.

"You—" he started, voice scraping rough in his throat. "You don’t get it. Nobody..." he faltered, hands flexing against your shoulders like he was afraid you'd vanish if he let go, "—nobody wants someone like me."

You opened your mouth to argue, but he barreled on before you could.

"I’m messed up. Ugly. Stupid. Always have been. Even when I ain’t tryin' to start somethin', people look at me like I'm some kinda disease."

He dropped his gaze, the words tasting like blood in his mouth.

"I don't— I ain't good enough for you."

The confession hung in the air between you, trembling and raw.

You exhaled softly, reaching up to wrap your hands around his wrists, not forcing him to let go — just grounding him.

"Gyutaro," you said his name gently, "you're not ugly. You're not stupid. You're not a disease."

You squeezed his wrists firmly, anchoring him back to you.

"You're strong. Reliable. Sharp as hell when you wanna be. And your marks?" You smiled up at him, bright and certain. "They're beautiful. You're beautiful."

He flinched, as if the word physically hurt — but you just smiled wider, refusing to let him shrink away.

"I kissed you because I wanted to," you said simply. "Because I like you."

Gyutaro stared at you like you were speaking a language he'd never heard before.

You laughed again, that damn windchime sound he was quickly becoming addicted to.

"And judging by the way you were about two seconds from breaking the gym with how hard you were blushing," you added playfully, "I'm guessing you don't exactly hate me either."

Something cracked in him then — a dam breaking, a lifetime of keeping everything ugly and painful locked behind scar tissue — and he just choked out a low, helpless laugh.

"You're insane," he muttered.

"Maybe," you agreed easily, stepping closer, the warmth of you a gravitational pull he couldn't fight if he tried.

"But you're mine now if you want to be," you said, voice dropping just enough to make his brain short-circuit.

For once, Gyutaro didn’t argue.

Didn’t snarl or push you away or pick at himself until he bled.

He just let himself believe it — even if it scared him half to death.

"...Tch," he huffed, cheeks burning as he finally dropped his hands from your shoulders.

"Guess I ain't got much of a choice," he mumbled gruffly.

You grinned, victorious, and leaned up to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

"Nope," you whispered against his skin.

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