#nothings wrong with a little dubcon……..

[4barbatos]

✦ toxic!scaramouche x fem!reader

i love you in the worst way

cw: dead dove: do not eat. abuse (emotional, verbal, physical, sexual), toxic relationship, manipulation, gaslighting, dubcon content, rough sex, self harm mentioned, power imbalance, unaddressed mental illness, severe codependency, trauma bonding, victim blaming & internalized guilt. modern au.

a/n: this one’s for anon that went absolutely feral in my inbox begging for more toxic scara 🙏 here u go babygirl. i hope ur okay. i think something is deeply wrong with u (said with love & concern)

you should’ve left when he first called you clingy.

but it was early then — early enough that it still felt like flirting. the kind of teasing that made your cheeks warm, made you nudge his shoulder and roll your eyes. he said it when you reached for his hand in public. when you kissed his cheek one too many times. when you sent him two texts in a row.

“you’re so clingy.”

he smirked. leaned in. kissed your jaw after.

and you smiled, because it was gentle.

he was sweet back then. or at least he could be. soft in ways that made you ache. he’d tuck your hair behind your ear, run his fingers along your thigh under the table, give you this small little look like he was seeing something no one else ever had. he’d let you trace the veins on his hands when you laid in bed together, and he never pulled away.

he was quiet, closed-off, like something wild trying to act tame. you thought it meant he had depth. that there were layers under his cold exterior. that his distance wasn’t cruelty — it was pain. you wanted to be the one he unraveled for. the one he let in.

and he did. slowly.

you started seeing him more. he didn’t text much — and when he did, it was short, half-thought replies. but he’d show up at your apartment with bruised knuckles and tired eyes, drop his keys on the counter, and fall into your bed like he belonged there. he never said thank you. never said i missed you. but he’d rest his head on your chest. kiss your wrist absentmindedly. wrap an arm around your waist while you slept.

and that was enough. back then, it was enough.

you let him pull you into his world.

you’d sit cross-legged on his unmade bed while he chain-smoked out the window, hoodie halfway off his shoulder, his jaw tense and eyes half-lidded. the room always smelled like smoke and sweat. his desk was a mess of ash and receipts and bent-up cigarette packs. vodka bottles lined his shelves like decoration. he never had food in his fridge. he lived like he didn’t plan on being around long.

but he let you in. that had to mean something.

he let you talk while he said nothing. let you trace the scars on his arms and didn’t flinch. let you cry after a bad day and only sometimes told you to stop. you’d pour your heart out in texts and he’d reply hours later with “that sucks” or “you’ll be fine.”

and you told yourself it was enough.

because he let you see him when no one else did.

because he didn’t push you away — not really.

he just didn’t pull you closer.

you laughed at his mean comments. thought they were cute. he’d say, “you talk too much,” or “why are you always so emotional?” and you’d laugh, nervously, and try to stop talking. try to shrink a little smaller. try to be easier to love.

he never said he loved you.

but he stayed. he kept coming back.

you mistook presence for affection.

it started slowly. so slow you didn’t realize you were drowning until your mouth was already full of water.

you missed his call once, and he didn’t text you for two days. you told him you were seeing an old friend, and he got cold. said, “funny how you always have time for everyone but me.”

you asked if he was okay and he said, “don’t start.”

you touched him wrong and he flinched away.

you said something he didn’t like and he left without a word.

he stopped calling you pretty. stopped answering when you said i miss you. stopped sleeping over unless he was drunk or high or angry at someone else.

and you apologized. for everything. for nothing. for things that weren’t your fault.

he’d ghost you for days, then show up at your door like nothing happened. collapse into your bed, kiss your neck, press his knee between your legs like he hadn’t left you crying four nights ago.

you let him. every time.

you said, “where were you?”

he said, “don’t start.”

you asked if he loved you, and he rolled his eyes.

said, “what does that even mean?”

you started keeping your feelings small, your voice softer, your words careful. you stopped crying in front of him. stopped asking him to stay. you’d beg silently, in the way you kissed him. the way you let him touch you even when it hurt. the way you said i love you like a prayer he never answered.

the shift was so slow you barely noticed it.

but then you did.

you noticed that you didn’t laugh around him anymore. that he never kissed you after sex. that he called you dramatic when you cried and said “you’re lucky i even deal with this.” that he didn’t ask about your day. didn’t say goodnight. didn’t care if you were okay.

you noticed how you flinched when he raised his voice.

how you waited for him to reply like your worth depended on it.

how his silence made you sick and his attention made you sicker.

you noticed you weren’t you anymore.

you were his. only his. always his.

you knew what kind of night it was going to be the second he walked in.

he didn’t say hi. didn’t ask how you were. didn’t even look at you at first — just dropped his bag by the door, ran a hand through his hair like he was already annoyed, and asked, “did you miss me?”

you nodded. said yeah. said a lot.

he didn’t answer. didn’t smile.

he just stared.

his eyes were sharp like he was waiting for you to say the wrong thing. his hands were cold when they touched your waist. his grip was tighter than it needed to be. he kissed you like he wanted to shut you up.

and you let him.

because this was the only time he touched you anymore. the only time he looked at you. the only time you felt like you existed to him. even if it hurt. especially when it hurt.

he spat cruel things against your skin. called you names you didn’t recognize yourself in. slapped you when you said i love you like it offended him. pressed his hand around your throat like he wanted to crush the part of you that still hoped.

you cried.

he didn’t care.

you touched him gently once — just once — and he pushed your hand away. told you to stop acting pathetic. to open your mouth and make yourself useful. said he didn’t want to hear a sound out of you unless it was you begging.

you begged.

you begged like you meant it.

not because you were desperate for him — but because if you didn’t give him everything, he might leave. and if he left, you didn’t know what you were without him.

you let him use you until your body ached. until you couldn’t tell the difference between pain and pleasure anymore. until you were sore and stretched and shaking and empty. until it was over.

and he just got up. didn’t speak. didn’t touch you again. didn’t even look at you as he pulled on his shirt and grabbed his phone. like you were nothing. like you were never anything.

the door slammed shut behind him.

you laid there on the sheets you’d just washed, legs sticky, throat bruised, stomach twisting. the room was quiet. you could still smell him on your skin. and it made you feel like you were rotting.

you didn’t cry. you just stared at the ceiling. blinking slowly. feeling like something had been carved out of you. like there was less of you now than there was before.

you touched your own wrist. lightly. the only tenderness you’d felt all night.

and you wondered if this is what love was supposed to feel like.

if maybe you’d just gotten it wrong.

if maybe this was the best you were ever going to get.

you didn’t text him the next morning.

you didn’t check if he got home. didn’t ask if he was okay. didn’t say i miss you, even though the words clawed at the back of your throat like they wanted to be let out.

you told yourself: if he wants me, he’ll reach out.

he didn’t.

you left him on read the next time he messaged you. just once. it was stupid. petty. small. but it felt like control. like a single breath of air after being underwater too long.

you started taking longer to respond. started saying i’m busy more. started turning your phone face-down on the table when you were out.

and it only took three days for him to notice.

you stared at the screen for a long time.

he was doing it again. twisting it. making it seem like it was your fault. like you were the inconsistent one. like he hadn’t been the one who disappeared for three days just last week.

and then:

and there it was. the push.

you felt your stomach drop. like you were the one who’d done something wrong. like you owed him more of yourself, even though he never gave you anything in return.

you didn’t respond.

that night, you turned your phone off. didn’t check. didn’t break.

and in the morning, he was at your door.

flowers in one hand.

coffee in the other.

that soft look on his face — the one he only wears when he knows you’re slipping.

he kissed your temple like he used to. held your face in his hands. said, “i’ve been thinking about you all week.” and “i miss how we used to be.”

you wanted to scream. wanted to slam the door in his face.

but instead, you let him in.

you cried reading it.

because he’d said the exact same thing two months ago. and again a month before that. and again last week.

he always says i’m trying like it’s supposed to fix the blood in your mouth. like the bruises on your hips are just growing pains. like the silence and the absence and the backhanded words were all part of the process.

and every time, you believed it a little less.

but not enough to leave.

because part of you still wanted to be the one he changed for. still believed in the boy who kissed your shoulder that first night and whispered that he didn’t know how to be good but wanted to learn. still held onto the way he looked at you like he needed you more than air.

you were addicted to the potential of him.

you were starving, and he kept feeding you crumbs.

and it was never enough.

but it was always just enough to keep you there.

you let him crawl back into your bed. you let him hold you again like he hadn’t made you feel disgusting the night before. you let him kiss your throat — right over the spot he pressed too hard — and you sighed like it was forgiveness.

you told yourself: this time will be different.

but it wasn’t.

he was sweet for three days. he bought you your favorite snacks. he played with your hair while you fell asleep. he sent you texts in the middle of the day that said “miss you” and “thinking about you.” and it was everything you’d ever wanted to hear.

you started to feel warm again. started to hope.

and then it cracked. just like it always did.

you told him you were going out with a friend — just dinner, nothing special — and he went cold instantly.

you stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. red lipstick. flushed cheeks. trembling hands.

you weren’t even sure who you were dressing up for anymore — yourself? your friend? the girl you used to be?

and suddenly, you didn’t want to go out at all.

you canceled.

he came over later that night like he hadn’t ruined it. curled up behind you in bed. whispered, “thank you for listening.”

and you hated that it made your chest feel warm.

you hated that you needed his approval like oxygen.

you hated him.

you hated yourself more.

you didn’t even recognize your own voice when you said, “do you even love me?”

he didn’t answer for a long time.

just ran his fingers down your back. slow. quiet.

then, finally:

“don’t ask me shit like that.”

you nodded.

of course.

you watched the ceiling while he fell asleep beside you. watched the shadows shift with the headlights outside. your phone lit up once — a message from the friend you never saw — and you didn’t open it.

you were tired.

not the kind that sleep fixed.

the kind that settled in your bones.

the kind that made you wonder if you were even real anymore.

or just something he built to need him.

you didn’t reply.

you just stared at the message until your eyes burned.

and wondered if maybe he was right.

maybe you were hard to love.

you wake up before him.

his arm’s draped over your waist, heavy like a shackle. your phone’s on the floor, your body aches, and your throat is raw — you don’t remember crying, but you must’ve. your cheeks are sticky. your eyes sting.

he’s still asleep.

and you just lie there.

it’s not peaceful. not gentle. you’re not watching him with love in your chest. you’re watching him like a stranger you’re too scared to run from. like you’re cataloging the details so you can remember how you got here.

his breath tickles your neck.

he shifts and murmurs your name like he means it.

and still — you feel nothing.

nothing except that gnawing pull in your chest that says i should go.

but you won’t.

you think about leaving a lot lately.

not in the dramatic way. not with a suitcase or slammed doors.

more like: what if i just didn’t text him back one day?

what if i just… stopped answering?

but you know better.

he’d show up.

he always does.

when he thinks he’s losing you, he becomes everything you ever wanted.

just long enough for you to forget what he is the rest of the time.

you used to fall for it.

you still do.

but now it feels different.

you’re not hoping he’ll change anymore.

you’re just too tired to try again.

you finally get up.

your body’s stiff. sore. you wince when you walk to the bathroom. there’s a bruise blooming on your hip — from his grip or the wall or maybe both. you don’t look at your face in the mirror. you don’t want to see it.

you brush your teeth in silence.

rinse your mouth out twice.

it still tastes like him.

and there it is again.

the subtle coldness. the way he makes you feel like the problem for anticipating the pain.

you put your phone down.

you stare out the window for a long time, until the light gets too sharp and your head starts to hurt. you sit back on the edge of the bed and he’s still asleep, like none of this matters.

you think, he’s never going to love me right.

and then, i’m never going to leave.

not because you don’t want to.

but because some part of you — the part that’s still cracked open and bleeding — needs him to stay.

even if he’s killing you.

maybe it’s not about love anymore.

maybe it’s just about surviving each other.

you don’t pack a bag.

you don’t write a note.

you crawl back into bed, curl against him, and let yourself disappear.

just a little more.

just enough to make it through the day.

a/n: if u think ur messed up for liking this, dont worry — im probably worse 🧐

[girlcowboy]

i’m not sure if you’re okay with piss kink or not, but i’d like to request something with jordan weaver: he keeps convincing the reader to drink water all day until she really has to pee and wants to go to the bathroom, but jordan has other plans — he wants to make her squirm until she ends up wetting herself. thank you!🫣

HELLO NONNIE yesss i love piss kink never fear. especially with jordan omg? you KNOW he'd be such an asshole about it

cw for slight cnc/dubcon, jordan is a pushy asshole and we all know it

Jordan is an asshole.

At first, you think he's just being nice. That was your first mistake. It's a nice, dry 101° outside in Orange County and you're sweating like a hog, splayed out in front of Jordan's shitty oscillating fan, head tipped back and eyes shut.

Jordan kindly brings you a bottle of water (because like hell you're drinking the tap this close to L.A.). Then, after you've guzzled that one down, he brings you another. And then, another.

It's gotten to the point where you try to refuse, to just keep the bottle of water at your side for when you do actually feel like drinking it, but Jordan is pushy and whiny, telling you that it's way too hot out and you're not drinking enough water! C'mon, just drink the water, he'll get you another one, c'mon, c'mon-

And it's hot, you're already annoyed and overstimulated, so you drink the rest of the water to get Jordan to shut the fuck up for once.

It's only when a pressure pushes against your bladder, once you start squirming just a bit that Jordan is on you, trying to start shit, hefting your legs up and trying to get you into his lap.

You grumble at him because, hello, it is way too hot to be doing anything right now but Jordan is nothing if not determined. Eventually he's got his lips on yours, sweat dripping down his nose and smearing across your joined mouths. His hands are clenching at your thighs, kneading at you, and you realize,

Oh.

You've gotta go like, now.

You shove at Jordan, muffled protests spilling out against his lips as he tries to get closer to you, holding you down and pinning you in place as you scramble against him. Eventually his mouth slips off of yours and you gasp for air, still trying to get out from under him to no avail.

Jordan's whining, now, cock hard against your thigh, that you can't leave, just stay right here and let him get off, then you can leave and it's really not sticking in his brain that you really, really need to piss.

You clench around nothing, moisture stinging at your eyes as he nudges his bulge against your clothed mound.

You catch his eye, just for a split second, and realize he's absolutely doing this on purpose.

You're trying to get away again, squirming under him, but Jordan's not letting go, in fact he's whining at you to chill out, that it's not a big deal. Luckily he doesn't try to kiss you again, certain you'd bite at him like a rabid dog.

You are not going to sit here and piss on his clothed cock. Not happening, no matter how much of a freak your boy is for it.

"Jordan," You voice wavers as the pressure in your abdomen swells. You writhe desperately. "Jordan, Jordan, wait, just wait, let's talk about this, c'mon, c'mon-"

"You got this, baby, I got you," Jordan encourages, rocking his hips up against yours. Hissing, a flash of heat runs through you and you gasp as something comes loose inside of you. Jordan's smearing sweat against your jaw with his lips, murmuring little desperate pleas against your skin. "C'mon, baby, c'mon, be good for me, just do it-"

You whimper at the first thread comes loose, then the rest comes unravelling. It's relief and humiliation all roll into one as you accidentally let go, fire burning under your skin, at just one wrong rock of Jordan's hips against your way too full bladder.

Jordan's panting, mouthing at your skin, blabbering pleased, desperate nonsense as you lose control, warmth spreading down your thighs and over his clothed dick, soaking through both of your underwear.

"Good, good, God, so good, baby," Jordan utters as he rocks forward once, twice, before spilling ropes of cum through his briefs, adding to the mess slick between your thighs. "God, fuck, fuck."

"Jordan!" You yelp, humiliated, as you hit his chest. He's panting above you like he's run a marathon, curls matted to his forehead with sweat. "What the fuck was that!"

Through lipped eyes, he shoots you a sheepish smile. You clock him in the dick, huffing, and he yelps, rolling over you in pain. You scramble up and bolt to the bathroom.

"You're cleaning at that up!" You call back to him.

"Worth it!" He croaks.

[wormswurld]

thinking about tashi slipping viagra into art’s food/drink during dinner since he’s been having ED problems, to mess with art even more she teases him and even invites patrick over!!! probs makes out with patrick in front of him just to see him strain in his dress slacks,, and art is just so hard he can’t even think + so lightheaded with the amount of blood rushing to his cock his just whines, drool and all, begging to be touched by tash and pat :3

[holeforzenin]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ UNCLE KENTO.

Tw - a bit dubcon, vibrator usage, age gap. Idk what this is. Not proofread

Dad’s best friend Kento pressing the pink vibrator that he found hidden inside your drawer flushed against your swollen clit while you’re sitting on his stiff cock. He’s buried all the way inside of your cramped cunt— filling up every existing space to the brim.

You can feel his plump, mushroom-shaped tip expertly pressing and rubbing against your sensitive g-spot as he places gentle kisses on your temple, urging you to stay quiet or else your parents will hear from the other room.

“Nanami… it feels weird—“ you whimpered softly, You stared down at the buzzing wand that’s assaulting your poor clit— the vibrating sensation making your legs tingled because of how overwhelming it felt along with his cock molding your insides at the same time. It was nothing that you’ve felt before.

It was quite embarrassing to have your dad’s best friend seeing you all exposed like this, considering how close and familiar Kento has always been with you and your parents. He’s practically like family so It made you rather, shy.

You slightly squirmed on his big lap, feeling his hard muscles tense in response, causing him to let out a low guttural groan before he quickly cleared his throat because of the sudden movement of your velvet walls contracting around his sensitive cock.

“Nanami? I’m sure your father raised you better than to call your elders by their name like that” he uttered sternly, almost sounding disappointed as he increased the vibrator’s intensity. “It’s Uncle to you, Darlin’.. Uncle Kento”.

Your head unwittingly collided with his firm chest, jolting you with the overwhelming scent of his minty, expensive cologne that clouded your senses. “S-sorry uncle!” You stammered as you sheepishly apologized to your uncle, prompting a fond chuckle from him because of how adoringly cute you are. So respectful and sweet.

He never intended to disrespect your father in this manner, having his needy cock cockwarmed by his daughter's tight, warm pussy and completely stretching and ruining it for any other man but what he’s doing isn’t entirely wrong… at least he’s someone your dad trusted and knows, that’s poking deep inside your cunny and not some young, stupid dude that would take advantage of a sweet girl like you.

He always thought you were a pretty little thing, always so nice and respectful— offering him his favorite green tea and the delicious cookies you baked every time he visited your home. Your thoughtfulness towards him never went unnoticed; You’re so precious to him so it’s only safe if your first time is with someone as mature and experienced as him. Someone who will be gentle and handle you like a fragile rose petal.

He never intended to accidentally stumble across the vibrator while he was searching for your charger in your drawer. You were in the shower, and he was staying over at your place for the night, so he required a charger and your dad told him that he could burrow yours. But he just couldn't ignore the pink wand poking from between your clothes. It caught his eye.

To his horror, you weren’t as innocent and pure as he once thought you were but that’s okay because it’s all for him. Uncle Kento will take good care of you.

He’s planning on teaching you about a lot of things, first starting with how to properly use the vibrator and taking his fat cock, both at the same time.

[angelltheninth]

I have yet to see Kpop demon hunters today but I am craving for Jinu smut, But also I don’t like noncon/dubcon in the slightest but if this feels like it so be it lol, So may I request Jinu x huntrix member fem reader? When reader decides to investigate the saja boys by herself, The rest of the girls are obviously worried about her safety but she tells them that she’ll be okay, Cut to a couple hours later with Jinu absolutely pounding reader from behind and making her cum nonstop just as he wanted to ever since he layed eyes on her.

I can do dub-con. I don't think people realize it's a very common kink.

Pairing: Jinu x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, dub-con, rough sex, creampie, body betrayal, enemies who fuck, possessive sex, biting, hate sex

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: This movie now lives rent free in my head.

You should have listened to your friends, you should have never went after Jinu all by yourself, you should have brought backup. Now you're bent over his bed, getting your pussy pounded raw and hard from behind. "Either you and yours are getting sloppy or you're really stupid for thinking you could defeat us on your own. Or even just defeat me. Or, hah, maybe, you came here hoping this would happen."

As soon as you heard him suggest such a thing you turned your head to glare at him. Jinu grinned, his smile as demonic as it always was, no longer hidden behind that pretty facade. With your arms pinned and held behind your back you could barely move, and whenever you did you just took his cock, over and over. It was driving you insane.

"Go fuck yourself, you goddamn bastard." You gritted through your teeth, biting back your moans as his thrusts kept getting faster and faster, deeper, almost like he was trying to punish you for acting foolish. "I would never stoop so low... to want someone like you." A high pitched moan escaped from your lips when you felt the sting of his hand on your ass.

"You say that, demon hunter, but your cunt is drooling for me, so tight and wet. Hear that, how sloppy and slutty you pussy gets with demon cock in it?" He slammed his cock into you, in and out, making your legs tremble and your vision blurry. "Be honest, it'll feel so much better."

You shook your head as you felt yourself blushing. You hated it, how good Jinu's cock felt inside of you, how good this felt and yet it was so wrong. You hated him, you should hate this too so why was your body working against you in this moment? Why couldn't you tell him to go to hell like you so many times before?

"Better, that's a good girl. No more fighting me. Don't worry, this can be our little secret, no one has to know how you whore yourself out for me." His body pressed fully against your, his demonic fangs nipping at the sensitive skin of your neck and shoulder. "I won't tell if you won't, demon hunter. You got my word." The glare you gave him was challenging, you hoped threatening but that was impossible with the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin and your pussy taking his hard cock while you moaned.

"Your word... means nothing to me." You hissed, putting as much venom and hatred in your voice as you could have. He didn't seem pleased with that, he bared his long teeth at you and you hated how your pussy clenched around him when you saw them.

"Really? Fine, makes no difference to me. But see how your team feels when you come back to them, with your cunt freshly fucked and filled with demon cum." You watched him transform from his human form into his demon form, and god, his cock felt even better like this. "I don't care if you believe me or not but I'm gonna make sure you never forget this moment. The moment when you came from being fucked by me, because of my cock, because I made you feel so good!"

With one final thrust he pushed both your bodies over the edge, and you stopped yourself just in time to not scream his name. You didn't want to feed his ego any more than you already have. Jinu laughed maniacally as he fucked his seed deep into your pussy, the wet, messy noises only adding to his feral, wild nature.

"Fuck, yes, oh, wanted this... ever since I first saw you. Wanted to carve the shape of my cock into your cunt. Make you mine." He ended with a long kiss on your shoulder, still holding you while your body trembled and your vision swam. "Mine, only mine from now on." You expected him to be rough as he pulled out but he wasn't, he was slow, stopping as he heard you hiss and whimper. "Now that's a pretty little sight."

You heard a flash of a camera and turned to see Jinu smirking with his phone in his hand, his cock still out, dripping with the combination of your release. "You...! Gross! You have no shame!"

Jinu stuck his tongue out at you, "A little keepsake for me. To tide me over until our next time."

An unpleasant, or maybe pleasant, shiver went through you at the suggestion of a next time with him. "That won't happen. I'm going to bring you to your knees before then!"

"Oh? If you wanted me on my knees all you had to do was ask. I'm very good with my tongue. I can show you next time." His words and lewd gestures made your stomach tie into knots, and an uncomfortable heat form. "I could do it now. Seems like you might need some cleaning up."

Furious you stood up on your wobbly legs and slapped him. It was pathetic, that this was the best you could muster in this moment, but it also felt good to catch him off guard. "You're dead next time I see you."

Despite the slap he grinned at you, licking his lips, "Looking forward to it, my demon hunter." He winked at before he snapped his fingers next to your ear. For a moment you didn't understand what he did, then your vision started blurring. You tried to hit him again but ended up collapsing against him. "Let's get you somewhere where the others will find you." Barely coherent you thought you felt his lips press against your forehead before you fully passed out.

[osamucide]

⊹ I AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A NASTY DOG!

. . . BSD MEN AS OVERUSED PORN PLOTS!

wc: 5.3k

cw: MINORS DNI—explicit sexual content, gn!+afab!reader, a lot of anonymous sex, dirty talk, BIG DICK MEN, probably a good amount of ooc, some questionable dynamics/dubcon that can be read through the lens of roleplay and/or prior consent. character-specific warnings—chuuya: public sex, penetration; dazai: penetration, riding, creampie; kunikida: professor/student, oral (m!receiving); fukuzawa: secretary/boss, office sex, oral (m!receiving), facefucking; atsushi: HEAVY DUBCON WARNING, stuck, perv atsushi, penetration; akutagawa: blackmailing if you squint, degradation, choking, penetration; oda: penetration; ango: public sex, penetration, riding; nikolai: dubcon, home intruder f!masturbation, penetration; sigma: a tiny bit of perv sigma, oral (f!receiving); fyodor: priest!fyodor, religion/blasphemy kink, christianity-specific, oral (m!receiving)

reid: putting my dual major in journalism to work by subtitling these like bad porn videos. little not so thought out drabbles many with no definitive ending just silly whore thoughts. some are more stupid than sexy but either way i hope you enjoy because this was a blast to write HAHAHAHA

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ CHUUYA NAKAHARA—HOT GYM BUDDIES CAN’T WAIT UNTIL AFTER THEIR WORKOUT TO FUCK!

“Yeah, that’s a lot better. Look at you, you got it,” the pretty redhead mutters, his hands still firmly on your hips as he spots your squat. “Give me one more, I know you can.”

The praise prompts you to draw in a deep breath that has nothing to do with your next squat; anyway, this gorgeous man, kind enough to help you with your form, believes in you. So you bend once more, squatting down, down, and pushing back up—until on your way back up, you feel your legs begin to buckle.

“Woah, woah.” It’s sweet how concerned he sounds as his hands fly up to the bar and his feet nudge you forward to help you replace the weight on the rack, but his hips end up pressed to yours, and you’re gasping. “You okay?”

You’re fine, caged between him and the bar as he leans over your shoulder to glimpse your face that’s flushed from exertion. Only exertion, surely, even though your ass is pressed firmly to his pelvis. He doesn’t seem hard, but you can still feel it, and it feels big.

“Yeah,” you breathe, moving to duck under the bar, but it’s low and you’re feeling a little dizzy, so you teeter backwards into him, and as his hands find your waist again. “Yeah, I’m about to be done anyway.”

“You should really stretch after maxing out like that,” he suggests, turning you around. “Don’t wanna be hurting, do you?”

But you can only look into his intense eyes and shake your head lightly before he’s easing you to the ground on your back, settling each of his knees over one of your thighs, and slotting his shoulder beneath your hamstring. He pushes forward, gently, slowly, looking to you for anything wrong; and there isn’t.

There’s nothing wrong, except for the fact that you can feel his huge dick against your pussy through both of your shorts.

It’s all you need to start moving blindly, reaching down for his waistband, pawing at his neck, mashing his lips to yours, and he doesn’t hesitate to do it back—he lets up on your leg only to slip your shorts off before your ankle is back over his shoulder and he’s grinding the head of his cock into your wetness.

“You gonna let me in, baby?” he pants hotly, looking down at you squirming beneath him. “Yeah, I know you will—you’re strong, you can take it.”

His tip catches on your clit, and you gasp before he’s plunging into you, setting a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck!”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he groans. “So fuckin’ tight.”

He hits the inside of you perfectly, his soft ginger hair falling loose from its low pony—you wish you knew his name so you could scream it, but you settle for moaning, panting, cussing, as he throws your other leg over his shoulder and drills into you on the gym mat. ⊹

⊹ OSAMU DAZAI—MY OLDER BROTHER ALMOST CAUGHT ME FUCKING HIS BEST FRIEND!

“Shit—I’ll be back, gonna go shower this off. Asshole.”

That was what your older brother, Chuuya, grumbled at Dazai before scurrying off to the bathroom. The three of you had just gotten back from getting ice cream, and Dazai had the brilliant idea of snatching Chuuya’s cone from him and sticking it in his hair. Cursing ensued the entire walk home.

And Dazai popped the tail end of his cone in his mouth and grabbed for your wrists as soon as your brother was out of sight, which leads you to now—in the living room, on the couch, bouncing furiously on his cock as he grunts.

“Osamu—be quiet!” you plead with him, but you’re moaning, too.

His lips fall into a grin. “Don’t worry, cutie, I can still hear the shower—fuck! Just keep—keep doing that, you feel so fucking good.”

So you reinforce your grip on his shoulders and slam your hips down to meet his, over and over, drawing sinful sounds from both of your bodies as you’re separated by a single thin wall from your brother—Dazai’s best friend, who would probably murder both of you if he found out you were fucking.

And then the water turns off. You muffle the choked cry you let out into Dazai’s shoulder, so damn frustrated that you won’t get there, not before Chuuya comes back—but Dazai’s flipping you onto your back, grabbing you by your hips, pulling you into him with such fervor that you almost shout.

“Need it, baby, I need to cum in this pussy—”

“Osamu!”

But even you can’t tell if you’re egging him on or warning him to stop—with no sound buffer and Chuuya undoubtedly coming back any minute, your body decides for you that you need it, too, you need to cum and you will, no matter how much your mind protests; your eyes flick nervously up to the hallway when they’re not rolling back from how Dazai’s rearranging your guts.

“He’s gonna come back—unh—and you’re gonna sit here with my cum in you, and he won’t even fuckin’ know.”

He’s digging his nails into your hips and ass, making you twitch, reaching down to rub your clit hard, and when you cum, clenching around him, he shoves his palm over your mouth and spills into you with a last few wet smacks.

Dazai’s scrambling back into his pants as footsteps pad down the hall; he all but throws himself at the other end of the couch as you curl up, dressed but fucked silly, focused on not letting the evidence of what just happened gush out of you and leak onto the couch.

“Fuck was that noise?” Chuuya mumbles, sauntering out as he’s tying his wet hair up.

“Hm? I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything.”

When Chuuya turns toward the kitchen, Dazai tosses you a wink. Your face burns as you feel yourself leaking. ⊹

⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA—COLLEGE HOTTIE SUCKS DICK FOR EXTRA CREDIT!

"You do realize I'm going to have to fail you," your professor informs you, looking into your eyes with a little regret. Truthfully, you've always been personable in class and shown promise as a student, and he's disappointed. Not in you, just in your poor academic performance during your final semester.

"There has to be something I can do to make up for it," you nearly plead, hands clasped together on the edge of his desk as you look to him with hope. You know you've been slacking, but you need this class to graduate.

"I don't know—" He sighs your name, clearly confliced. Your attendance record is less than impressive these days, and Kunikida's enforced a strict class participation policy throughout his years of teaching—as well as no extra credit—something he makes clear to all of his students in all of his classes, and you especially should know better after taking his classes for four years. "I don't know. Like what?" Maybe you can do a few credits in the summer and still walk at graduation, or pick up an internship. But he wants you to take the initiative and accountability.

He doesn't really know how to protest when you're slipping out of your seat and sinking to your knees as a spark starts to gleam in your eyes. You rattle off a few academic ideas for posterity, but ultimately find your hands sliding up his thighs and fiddling with his belt.

Fuck it, you think, you'll be out of here soon enough. Plus, Kunikida's always been kind, compassionate, understanding, and sexy—too invested in his field to even notice that handfuls of students on campus would throw themselves at him given the chance. Maybe he'll finally understand, you muse to yourself, as you work his hardening cock out of his dress pants.

He chokes out your name when you take his length in both of your hands; he's all the way gone when you're swirling your tongue over his tip, giving in to your little idea for extra credit sooner than he'd ever admit to himself.

"Oh, fuck—" He's staring up at the ceiling of his office in pure bliss because his student is working hot, sloppy kisses down the underside of his cock. His hands twist into your hair, and you gaze up at him, doe-eyed, as his head falls forward and he looks at you through his glasses. "Keep going. Don't fucking stop."

He's trying not to thrust into your mouth when you fondle his balls; his pretty blond bangs are dampening with sweat, and you can't take your eyes off him as you bob your head faster, hollowing your cheeks around him and moaning at the taste of your professor's cock heavy in your mouth. He twitches and jumps at your attention to detail—your fingers raking tracks down his thighs, your frantic tongue, your fluttering lashes and sugary moans, gags, and slurps that are music to him.

You know, as he falls apart more and more by the second, you won't have to worry about this class anymore.

"Unh—uh, yes, oh, fuck, we'll work something out, yeah, gorgeous? Just don't stop—d—don't stop, don't fucking stop, I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat, yeah, and we'll get it all figured out." ⊹

⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA—NAUGHTY SECRETARY SEDUCES HOT BOSS!

You're perched on his desk when he returns from the meeting—Yukichi, your boss, who, lately, you can't stop thinking about climbling like a tree. You're sure your coworkers see it, too, but you're his personal assistant; no one gets to be as close to him as you, and he trusts you.

Which is why you'll put the moves on him today.

He runs a hand through his silver hair—obviously stressed—sighing as he pulls his office door shut and turns to you. He speaks your name, holds a few papers in your direction, begins instructing you on what he needs from you next.

But you know better what he needs. The papers that make their way into your hands are quickly forgotten about on his desk as you uncross your legs and hop down, sauntering up to place on hand on his arm, the other on his chest.

"Sir, you look so tense. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do?"

He makes his way to sit down in his office chair, disregarding your touch in a way that has you following after him like a puppy in need of attention.

He doesn't answer, but he also doesn't protest when you settle between his knees beneath his desk and push his yukata and haori up to pool around his hips. His dick is thick and veiny, even soft; when you spit in your hand and begin to work him up and down his mouth falls open with a sigh, and he grows at least two inches as he hardens beneath your grip.

You didn't think you'd be able to fit his absolute monster cock in your mouth, but you find yourself, throat open, with your nose pressed to his happy trail as you swirl your tongue and breathe through your nose frantically; he holds your face down, speaking very little but making up for it with the way he grunts hotly in that deep, rough voice as he bucks into the back of your throat.

"Unh—ugh..."

You breathe through your nose as his hips fall into a brutal pace; his hands on either side of your head keep you pinned in place as he uses you, takes his stress out on you. Your fingers massage his balls, and you can't help the way you hum around him when he twitches in your mouth.

Yukichi pulls out of your jaw and you gasp for air, wiping the spit that drips down your chin with the back of your hand, but he's not done. When he does speak, it's demanding, low, and it makes your cunt throb with need.

"Get up. Get up, sit on the desk. 'Need to fuck you."

You do as you’re told, open up for him with no hesitation, smiling as he works his fat cock into you—yeah, his stress will be gone in no time with the way he fucks your hole so hard and fast that you shake with each creak of his desk. ⊹

⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA—STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR WITH MY SEXY NEIGHBOR!

"Ah! Atsushi, open the door!"

"Um," he frets, punching the button until he's sure it'll break. If it's not broken already. "I—I can't, it's not working!"

Not working? Is he fucking serious? You're trapped in the door—all you did was try to reach back out for your bag you'd set by the elevator and now you're stuck, by the waist, between the two sliding maneuvers, your bag dangling from your hands.

"It's supposed to have a sensor! It's not supposed to even close when someone's on the threshold!" you cry through your teeth as you try to squirm out. Atsushi's mind is already working, though, over the way you're pinned in half, wiggling your ass as you struggle against the industrial strength of the elevator door. "Atsushi, help me, please call someone or something—"

But his hands are on your hips, pulling backward, and you can't help the noise of surprise that slips out of you.

"Atsu', I seriously don't think that will work, please, just call—Atsushi!"

His hands shake as he slides your pants and underwear down your thighs, exposing your ass; he tunes out your protesting as he undoes his belt. You hear the clink of it hitting the ground, you feel his fingers dipping into your cunt from behind, and he cannot be fucking serious.

"I'm sorry," he cries like it's out of his control—he feels like it is. "I'm sorry, you're so hot, you're right here, I've wanted this for so long."

And you feel yourself beginning to drip at his desperate tone. You can't fucking believe it—this is depraved. This is some shit you would've never expected from the sweet, cute boy in the apartment across the hall who helped you drag your bedframe and couch from this very elevator to your room but here he is, prodding at you with his pathetically leaky cock while you're stuck in the damn elevator door.

And you'd be frustrated with how your body reacts, but as he slides his dick along your cunt, drenching himself in your wetness, you can't help but arch back into his touch.

"Atsushi, you have to fuck me, please."

And he does, fast and unpracticed—he whimpers for you, tells you you're all he thinks about when he jerks off; he confesses that he looks through his peephole when he knows you're leaving for work or school just to get at least one glimpse of you everyday to fuel his imagination, and you gush around him, the pain of the door trapping you falling irrelevant, drifting out of your mind, as he buries his face in your shoulder and humps into you like an animal, pounding against your cervix.

"Fuck, that's right, so good, so, so good—better than I could've imagined—agh, fuck, that's right, take it all, take it, take it, take it...!" ⊹

⊹ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA—HOT BABE HAS NO MONEY, LETS THE DELIVERY BOY DESTROY THAT PUSSY!

You rifle through your wallet and hum when you come up short. "Um, I... know you said you don't have a card reader, but I don't have enough cash."

The delivery boy looks at you with little more than boredom until you invite him in.

"Here, let me look in my room—I might have more stashed somehwere..."

He stands over you, searching you with his curious gray eyes as you dig through a drawer, a bag, another bag, only to come up short again. You even peek under your mattress for good measure, but you're just out. You turn to him sheepishly.

"I, uh... I don't have enough, I'm really sorry."

"Well, I can't leave without some form of payment," he deadpans, and you try to think of something, anything—you have a few giftcards for other delivery services, some jewelry—but he's letting his bag fall off his shoulder and grabbing you by the hips before you can register what he means.

You end up face down, ass up on your bed as a compromise, his hips rutting into you from behind as he holds your wrists behind your back. Ryuunosuke his name tag read—you're quick to adopt a way around that mouthful, moaning out, "Ryuu, Ryuu, please!" as he splits you open and calls you a whore.

"Fuckin' slut—"

When you're able to glance back for a second you can see his pretty black hair swaying with each rough thrust, and you're sure he's hitting your lungs—he's so fucking deep inside you, and you're gasping, moaning for more.

"—so eager to—unh—take this dick. Probably hiding your cash somewhere."

But whether you are or not doesn't matter; your eyes are rolling back to the hard smack of his hips against your ass and the white-hot pleasure that rolls through you every time he plows straight into your g-spot, and he's throbbing inside of you at the way your cunt grips him. Your pizza's getting cold on the counter in your kitchen, but you don't care—not when he bunches his fingers up in your hair to arch you back up to him so he can wrap his other hand around your throat.

You hold onto him as he bends you, pulling air down into your lungs when you can, and his gravelly voice barrages you with more words that make you gush around his cock.

"Gonna let me cum in this pussy so you don't have to fork over a few bucks for a pizza? Pathetic."

His teeth sink into your shoulder, his other hand reaches down to torture your neglected clit, and you're sure he's gonna break you over this, your hot delivery boy who just so happened to have the idea to fill you up as payment. You pant his name desperately between thunderous moans—you're gonna cum soon. ⊹

⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA—THIS PLUMBER FIXED MORE THAN JUST MY PIPES!

"Okay, that should do it." The man stands up, back to a height at which he towers over you, and you lean on the doorframe to the kitchen as he shuts the cabinets beneath your sink. "It's all movin' again."

You were in your robe when you answered the door, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't run to the bathroom to fix your hair and swipe on a little lip balm while he was working. Really, you hadn't meant to try to fuck the plumber. But this man was gorgeous, with his auburn hair, stubble-lined jaw, large hands, broad shoulders. You felt your eyes widen when you first laid eyes on him, and now you'd been throbbing thinking about what those thick fingers could do other than plumbing.

You pull your robe tighter around yourself, hoping to subtly accentuate the outline of your body. "Thank you so much, really, I don't know what I'd have done without the sink."

"Probably used the dishwasher a lot more," he cracked dryly, and your previous words suddenly feel stupid, but it only serves to make him hotter.

"How should I pay you?" You stride over to him. "Cash?"

"You can just pay online." He looks tired, but he has a well-meaning smile on his face.

You look a little incredulous. "Really? I can't—do you accept tips? Seriously, top notch work and super quick. I can't not thank you."

"I'm really not supposed to take tips," he drawls, running a hand through his hair. You find yourself biting your lip; you can't look away from him. You must look like a rabid animal right now, but you can't help it.

He doesn't tear his eyes away from yours.

"I mean, unless..."

Those three words are what find you on your back in your bedroom with your robe thrown open, the sweet and efficient plumber named Sakunosuke standing at the edge as he impales you on his cock. He worked you open with those fingers first, fast and harsh, just how you begged him to, but nothing could've prepared your weeping hole for the stretch of his fat dick—and now he's pounding into you, his hands clutching your waist as you hold your legs open for him to thrust deeper, deeper.

“Oh, shit. Unh—so wet—“

His groans come from his chest, deliciously—he looks a little like he knows he shouldn't be doing this, but your cunt is sucking him in like it was what he was supposed to come here for all along. You spasm and clench around him and he throws his head back, your whole body rippling as his strong hips and heavy balls smack lewdly against your ass with each thrust.

“Mmph—fuck—break that sink of yours more often, alright?” ⊹

⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI—I JOINED THE MILE HIGH CLUB (EXTREMELY RISKY)!

The man you met in the airport bar—oh, he’s pretty.

He's even prettier in your mind when the pilot announces phone permissions now that you're in the air, and the first notification your phone receieves is from him.

I have an open seat next to me in first class. Come visit.

You don't hesitate for a moment. You stride forward from the economy section, past the flight attendants who protest at you flimsily to search for his seat number—you see his unmistakably gorgeous hair, his glasses, his sharp side profile as he speaks to an attendant, catches you in his peripheral, and then shoos her away.

There's hardly niceties before one of your legs is slung over his knee and he kisses you with fervor. You don't think too hard about the people around you—none of whom can actually see you but without a doubt will know exactly what's happening in a few minutes—as you grind down onto his thigh, bite his lips, draw soft gasps from him when your knee nudges his bulge.

Before you know it, his cock is free and he slides your underwear to the side so you can sink onto him; he groans shamelessly when your wet heat envelops him completely, causing heads to turn in your direction, but you just brace your knees against the airplane seat and your hands on his shoulders make quick work of milking him of everything he has.

He kisses you, hot, heavy; he smells good, he smells expensive, and you tear his dress shirt open to rake your nails down his chest as he grabs your hips, letting his head fall back and a full-bodied moan into the cramped air of the plane as he does so. You lift up to let him thrust, let lewd smacks resonate throughout first class, and with your chest in his face he rides your shirt up to latch his teeth to one of your nipples; you echo him, moaning unabashedly, running your hands through your hair, gripping him as people look on.

"Fuuuck, yeah, feels so good," he praises from beneath you. "Knew I had to fuck you from the second I saw you." His eyebrows draw up in concentration as he looks down at where your bodies meet and continues fucking up into you hard. "Hah—listen to that cunt cry for me. You like being watched, huh? Gonna let me fuck you 'til the plane smells like sex? Huh?"

You nod, messily, desperately, and he quickens his pace ever faster, pulling you back down into a sloppy kiss.

An attendant awkwardly approaches in the aisle, but the gorgeous man who's destroying your insides just holds up a palm, shoos her away again.

"Fuck—so sexy. Keep takin' this dick." ⊹

⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL—LUCKY INTRUDER GETS TO FUCK HORNY VICTIM!

You're splayed out on your bed, two fingers stuffed deep in your cunt—and he's just surprised you didn't hear him breaking the lock on your front door.

When you meet his eyes, you're so glazed over with pleasure that you barely miss a beat, your gaze only blowing wide when he peers around your bedroom doorway. His snowy white hair, his sharp features—you can't find the sense to be alarmed at this unfamiliar man, the one holding your laptop and—is that your wallet?

Doesn't matter—they're clattering to the ground, another factor here you can't find it in yourself to care about as his gray eyes are locked onto you fucking yourself open on your sheets. The sheen of sweat that covers your skin, your desperate moans as you grind your clit against your palm, the obscene squelching that comes from your wet cunt—they all serve to propel him over to you, prompt him to dig his already-hard cock out of his pants as you just watch, beg him with your stare to come fill you up. You're so lucky he's here, really—you look like you're struggling to get deep enough with your pathetic little fingers; he guesses it's only fair that he repay you for the material goods he's about to rob you of and pawn off on whatever sucker will buy them for cash, right?

"Right? I'll help you out—" He gives his cock a few pumps as he positions himself between your legs, "—looks like you need it, sweetheart."

You can only bite your lip to supress the moan that leaves you as he enters your cunt and lifts your fingers up and out of you by your wrist to swirl his tongue around them, lick them clean. He's huge—even your third and fourth fingers weren't enough to prepare you properly for the burglar’s dick in your needy pussy, so you let out strained combinations of gasps and screams when he starts to drill into you mercilessly. You can't help the way your ankles link behind his back, the way you reach for him—and he smiles wickedly when your eyes roll back.

"You like having a stranger's cock deep in your guts, huh?" he speaks between deep sighs and grunts. You can only babble your incoherent agreement, your laptop and wallet forgotten, the actions of this man forgotten, everything but how desperately you need to squirt all over him forgotten—you reach down and rub your clit, play with your nipples as your mouth is frozen open as you moan, moan for this man who's just broken into your home. "Uh—yeah, you're gonna like takin' all my cum, too, I bet." ⊹

⊹ SIGMA—MASSEUR HELPS HIS SEXY CLIENT RELIEVE STRESS!

"Oh, yeah—right there," you groan softly as the heel of his palm meets the center of your back. You've been looking forward to this full-body massage the whole week, and this man was not disappointing.

He works his way down your back, twisting knots out as he goes—his lithe fingers feel like heaven against you, overworked from hours at your desk hunched over your computer.

But it's a full-body massage, as mentioned before; when his fingers dig into the plush of your asscheeks, you can't help the groan that leaves you.

"That okay?" he inquires; you think you hear a shake in his voice.

"More than okay," you reply, thinking you could fall asleep as he works you into relaxation. You could close your eyes from how good it feels, or you could peek behind you and see his face burning with blush at your sounds. You do the former, but smirk a little at how sweet it is of him to check in.

He checks in again when his hands are inching your underwear down, and you tell him of course, he's the professional.

He's still the professional when he climbs up on the table behind you and buries his flushed face into your cunt. You arch up and back, crooning, as his hands stay massaging you, spreading you apart, kneading your ass with career expertise and plunging his tongue into you with enthusiasm.

"Oh! Oh—feels good," you breathe, grinding back into his face, onto his nose. He laps at you happily, this masseur you've barely looked upon for a total of twenty seconds, but you can't lie to yourself and say you didn't think he was pretty when he led you back to his room; he hums into you, sending you shivering, twitching. "Please, more."

"Mhm," he mumbles, releasing one of your asscheeks to lay back beneath you and insert a long, thin finger into your pussy; you sigh, you settle onto his face, and his tongue speeds up in this new position in a way that rips a high moan from your lungs.

Not hunched, but arched, the stretch feels heavenly on your back in combination with the way he pumps another finger into you; you graciously sit up, throwing your head back, begging, pleading for more until his tongue settles into a tight back-and-forth rhythm over your clit. "Please, please, please—"

You grind against his nose, your moans become more erratic, and you dig a hand into his hair as your hips move in dizzying circles over his head.

"Cum for me?" he asks, muffled by your pussy; you'll ride him until his face is soaked. ⊹

⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY—CONFESSING MY SINS ENDS IN HUGE CUMSHOT ALL OVER MY FACE!

“And I’ve been terribly, terribly lustful, Father Fyodor,” you say with regret. “It consumes me. I really never used to be like this."

"Temptation lurks everywhere," the priest sympathizes. You can barely see him through the grate, but his soft, forgiving voice sounds close to you. "The Devil and his army are constantly exploiting our vulnerabilities to try and turn us to sin, but worry not, child of Christ; we're human. I'm here to guide you. Continue."

You shift on the wooden seat in the booth, crossing your hands tighter over your lap. "That's really all. It's been very concerning to me. I think about it... I think about it so much."

"About what?" Father Fyodor prompts, and you bristle even more at being asked to elaborate.

"Sex," it barely comes out as more than a whisper. "I can't help it—it's everywhere. It leaves me feeling so... exhausted and frustrated, and the only thing that helps is... Well..."

But you're met with silence. You know he wants you to go on. You're here to confess, after all.

"...touching myself. I do it at least once a day. It's like a burning within me—nothing helps but—but—cumming all over my fingers." Your voice is laced with shame—the throbbing of your cunt as you talk makes you feel all the more guilty, and you can only imagine how he's shaking his head. "That's all. That's all."

"You'll do penance," he says, comfortingly. "When we bring our sins to the Lord and repent he cleanses us of them."

The grate pops out of the window, and you see the the waist of his alb as he speaks his next words.

"You'll take communion, now—" the cinctures around his waist fall undone beneath his hands, and the alb is hiked up to reveal a leaking cock, pretty and pale and bobbing in the air of the confessional. "—and be saved from the flames of perdition.”

"Yes, Father, please. Anything to be saved." But your mouth waters in a way that you know has little to do with your thirst for salvation.

"Take this; eat. This is my body," he recites the scripture as his length reaches through the window; your hands, eager and already on the threshold, accept him willingly. As you wrap your mouth around him, he groans, and it's like seraphim singing their holy, holy, holy.

"That's it—child of God, follower of Christ; I absolve you of your sins," he gasps as his tip hits the back of your throat which was begging for forgiveness moments ago. His hands reach through the window to stroke either side of your face, and then hold you in place to fuck your throat. "The Lord will forgive you for this." ⊹

[ikchos]

feat. zayne (l&ds)

cw. dubcon, smut, breeding kink, impregnation, period / ovulation tracking, unprotected sex (be safe evb).

zayne was a doctor. your doctor, specifically. it was nice to have a sweet boyfriend like him who was also a licensed physician. whenever you were sick, he'd nurse you back to health. if you accidentally burned your hand when trying to cook, he'd go above and beyond to help you. he paid more attention to your health and body than you did.

sometimes he'd pay a little too much attention. he wasn't an obgyn but he'd keep track of your periods but... don't all loving boyfriends and physicians do that? zayne would also take note of when you were ovulating... a little strange but hey, he was just doing his best to take care of you.

your boyfriend seemed to act a little funny during your ovulation cycle, though—touchy-feely, desperate, hungry. his kisses were so heady, getting you so intoxicated that you had no choice but get drunk on the taste of his mouth. hands that were once featherlight now rough and wanting to touch every part of your body.

you just assumed that he had a hard time at work and needed to release some frustration... oh, how wrong you were. all zayne could think about was how pretty you'd be with a swollen belly. you, the love of life, carrying his baby and him taking care of you both. the thought made him crazy.

he laid you down with fervent kisses and fingers curling inside of your cunt. he couldn't wait; he needed you. and when you looked up at him, all laid out and pretty, he knew you needed him too. your hole was a sticky, wet mess—see, even nature was telling him to make you a mother.

the sounds you made were so sweet—nothing but strangled praises and whines whenever he would split you open with his cock. any other time, zayne would be tipsy on the feeling of your pussy gripping around him but now he was practically black out drunk. he was going to fill you with his cum twenty times over until you got knocked up and your body didn't seem to reject that idea. you would like that, wouldn't you?

his hips stuttered and he kept a firm hold on your throat as he stuffed you full with his cock, a mix of grunting and whining as he finally stilled himself as close to your womb as humanly possible and let his warm seed fill you up until your fluttery cunt couldn't hold in any more. you'd be the perfect mother.

zayne hoped that this was finally the time he knocked you up for real. but if not, that's okay... you had a full two weeks in your cycle and he was going to make every single day count.

[onlypinkslut]

warning 18+ next part 2 > older pervy teacher!toji x innocent student f!reader🎀.

cw: grooming, manipulation, teacher x student, age gap, dubcon, taboo. mdni.

professor fushiguro had a reputation. not the kind that showed up in formal complaints or scandalous whispers, but the quieter kind, the dangerous kind. he was handsome, unnervingly so tall, built like a fighter not a lecturer, always dressed in black button-downs with the sleeves pushed to his elbows, veins peeking out like he wanted you to stare. and married. very married. a slim platinum band on his ring finger that he never took off, not even while scribbling equations across the whiteboard or wiping chalk on his pants.

he taught intro philosophy. the kind of class full of wide-eyed boys/girls who thought they were deep because they’d just discovered camus. but he never looked at them at least, not the way he looked at you.

it started subtle. lingering eye contact when he called on you, asking for your thoughts when you hadn’t raised your hand, brushing his fingers too close when passing papers. at first, you thought you were imagining it. that you were projecting something sick and inappropriate onto a man who clearly had no interest in silly little students. but then came the way he said your name slow, thoughtful, with the corners of his mouth curling like he was tasting it. like it meant something to him.

and then the school trip was announced. a philosophy retreat to another city. three days, two nights. guest lectures, roundtables, and some pathetic team-building exercises. you weren’t even going to sign up until he looked straight at you, mid-lecture, and said i expect all of you to come. some of you need the experience more than others. his eyes didn’t move. you didn’t dare look away.

the flight was cramped. assigned seats. you didn’t realize the horror of it until you read the manifest and saw

mr. fushiguro listed next to your name in tight black font. he was already seated when you boarded, legs wide, jaw tense from the early morning. and when you shuffled in, clutching your little bag to your chest, he barely blinked. just motioned for you to sit like it was normal.

his thigh touched yours. his elbow grazed your arm every time he shifted. he didn’t look at you. didn’t say a word. but when the lights dimmed and the plane rose into the sky, you felt it that heat, that wrongness, crawling up your skin like a fever. he exhaled slowly beside you and his breath grazed your neck.

then came the descent. everyone around you began to shuffle, seatbelts unbuckling, the aisle clogged with bodies waiting to leave. you stood up, trying to squeeze past him, but the line wasn’t moving and he didn’t budge.

you mumbled something excuse me… but he just looked up with that lazy, unreadable expression, eyes dragging from your thighs to your lips. and before you could step back, he gripped your waist and pulled you down, right onto his lap. your knees hit the seat, legs splayed awkwardly on either side of his, and you froze, heart hammering.

his voice was low and soft against your ear.

relax. just until the line clears.

you looked around in panic. students were watching, some snickering, others wide-eyed. your cheeks burned. you tried to shift off but his hands pressed into your hips, holding you there.

you’re shaking, he murmured. nervous flier?

you tried to speak. to move. but his thigh shifted beneath you, just enough to make you feel the hard shape forming there, and your blood turned to fire. he didn’t even pretend to hide it. just rocked his hips subtly, like it meant nothing. like it was normal.

good girl, he breathed, still loud enough for only you. you’re learning how this works.

you didn’t speak for the rest of the walk off the plane. your skin felt like it didn’t fit right, legs sore from trying not to grind down on his lap, jaw locked so tight you thought it might crack. professor fushiguro stayed close behind you the whole time, rolling his suitcase casually like nothing had happened, like your thighs hadn’t just clenched around him in front of half your classmates.

the others were loud. dragging their bags through the terminal, laughing, pushing each other like overgrown children. you stuck to the back, head down, trying to disappear.

but he didn’t let you.

careful, sweetheart,

his voice slid out behind you as you stumbled slightly on the escalator. his hand found your back warm, wide, steady and pressed there as you stepped off.

you really should wear more supportive shoes. your ankles are too delicate for all that walking.

you heard the giggles before you even turned. two girls near the vending machine, whispering behind their hands. someone muttered, he’s so protective of her, and another one snorted. you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole.

but he didn’t stop. he leaned closer, brushing your hair off your shoulder in one slow sweep, his fingertips grazing the back of your neck like it was just a kind gesture.

did you even eat this morning? he asked, frowning at your suitcase like it had wronged him. you’re already swaying. c’mon, let’s find you something light.

professor, i’m fine..-

no, he cut in gently. you’re my responsibility now. can’t have my favorite student passing out in front of the whole class, can i?

you swallowed hard. someone definitely heard that. the stares were louder than the voices now. you kept your head ducked while he guided you through the airport like a little girl his hand always on your back, his voice soft, too soft.

and then came the hotel.

they passed out room keys in the lobby. everyone was half-asleep, waiting for their pairings to be called. you hovered near the back, praying hoping but then the coordinator raised a small envelope and called your name, along with one that made your knees lock.

professor fushiguro.

your head snapped up.

you expected him to object. to say it must be a mistake. instead, he smiled. actually smiled. that same lazy, slow grin he gave in class when a student said something dumb.

looks like you’re stuck with me again.

the envelope was placed into his hand. he didn’t even give you yours. just held it in one hand and reached for your wrist with the other, tugging gently like he was leading a child through traffic. your breath hitched.

don’t worry, he whispered low, only for you. i don’t snore.

your knees nearly gave out.

the hotel room door clicked shut behind you with a soft finality. you stood frozen near the entrance, arms tight over your chest, suitcase still in hand. everything felt a little too quiet. a little too still.

the room was bigger than you expected luxurious in a way that didn’t feel meant for students. polished wood floors, a king-sized bed with a tall headboard and crisp white sheets, gold lamps glowing warm on each side, casting light that made the shadows stretch long. there was only one bed.

you stared at it too long.

he noticed.

looks like they forgot to give us two, he said casually, not even surprised. he rolled up his sleeves with slow fingers, loosened his tie and tugged it from his neck like he’d done it a hundred times before.

probably some kind of mix-up with the school. they’re always disorganized with this stuff.

you swallowed. your throat felt dry.

he turned back toward you, voice warm. you don’t mind sharing the bed with this old man, do you? it’s just one night.

you opened your mouth. closed it. shook your head.

no… it’s fine professor.

he smiled, soft.

good. you’re like my daughter, anyway.

your stomach twisted.

you didn’t say anything as he took your suitcase from your hand without asking, set it beside his, already resting near the bed like it had always belonged there. the two bags looked strange next to each other. intimate. like a couple’s.

you stood there while he moved through the room with ease, kicking off his shoes by the armchair, stretching like he was home. like this was normal.

then he picked up the hotel phone and called room service.

he didn’t ask what you wanted.

for her? something soft. salmon. jasmine rice. tea. nothing spicy.

your eyes snapped to him. his were already on you.

just something sweet and easy, he added, like he knew you better than you knew

yourself.

you nodded, too afraid to speak. your voice felt buried.

when the food arrived, he set it on the table and pulled the chair out for you. you sat.

legs crossed tight beneath the hem of your school-issued skirt, and picked slowly at the plate while he poured your tea.

you keeping up okay in class?

he asked, tone light.

yes, you whispered.

anyone giving you trouble?

you shook your head.

he sipped his own tea and leaned back slightly, watching you. the silence stretched.

you’re quiet,

he said.

always have been. the kind of girl no one notices unless they’re really looking.

you didn’t know if that was meant to make you feel safe or exposed.

you nodded again, forcing another bite of fish into your mouth.

his phone buzzed. he reached for it, glanced at the screen, and his face barely shifted but you saw it.

a small tightness in his jaw. he turned it around and showed you without a word. a picture. a little boy sitting in his lap, smiling up at him. a woman behind them, pretty, poised, hand resting on his shoulder.

my family, he said. no emotion in his voice. just fact.

they’re… cute, you offered, shy.

yeah, he said, already locking the phone and setting it face-down.

after you finished eating , he sat down in the armchair again, legs wide, thighs stretching the fabric of his dark slacks. he patted one.

c’mere. i’ll show you more pictures if you want.

you hesitated.

don’t act like we haven’t done this before, he said gently. come on, sweetheart. it’s just us.

your body moved before your brain caught up. you sat carefully across his lap, thighs draped over his, heart pounding in your chest like a small animal trying to escape.

he pulled you close. one arm behind your back. his phone in the other. photos flipped by birthday parties. vacations. family dinners.

and then his hand moved. not suddenly. not obviously. but slow. casual. it rested on your thigh, just above your knee. warm. wide. like it belonged there.

you squirmed.

he didn’t stop.

he swiped through another picture. his thumb rubbed slow circles into your skin.

you’ve grown a lot this year, he said quietly. filled out in places. you’re becoming a woman.

you tried to pull your skirt lower.

professor…

he kissed your cheek.

it’s okay. you’re like my daughter. this is just affection.

his hand slid higher.

you pushed it gently.

don’t be nervous, he murmured.

i just want to make sure you’re okay.

you sat still, heart pounding, thighs trembling over the stretch of his thick one. he’d pulled you into his lap again like it was normal, like the hotel room hadn’t gone too quiet, like dinner hadn’t already gone cold on the tray. the lights were dim now, golden and low. his hand rested over your stomach, the other between your thighs. not groping. just… resting.

he rocked you gently, side to side. you didn’t know why he did that. it felt like something a dad would do to calm a baby. but your pulse was racing, and your body felt so strange hot, stiff, twitching in ways you didn’t understand.

professor… your voice was small. you felt it tremble.

he hummed against your hair. mm?

why’re you… touching me like this… you asked, confused and breathy. it feels… weird��

that’s because you’ve never been touched properly before, he murmured, hand sliding slightly lower, grazing the soft curve of your inner thigh. your body doesn’t know what it wants yet. but i do.

you shifted, uncomfortable. the movement made his thigh brush directly against your pussy again and your breath hitched.

it’s okay, he said softly. you can feel that, can’t you?

feel what…?

the heat. his fingers brushed between your legs, right over your panties. right here. this part’s all wet now. that’s your body’s way of asking for help. and i’m going to help you.

but.. i don’t understand, you whispered, squirming in his lap. it’s not… i didn’t do anything..

you didn’t have to, he said, kissing your temple. your body reacts to me even when you don’t mean to. that’s what makes you different from those other girls.

you blinked. what girls…?

the ones who chase boys and drinks at dorm parties, he said, rubbing soft circles into your clothed slit. they think they’re grown. think they’re in control. but not you.

your eyes stung. you shook your head softly.

i don’t… i don’t party, you whispered.

you don’t even let boys touch you, do you?

n-no… never.

his hand pressed a little harder.

have you ever let anyone see this? he asked gently. right here?

you swallowed thickly, shaking your head again.

no. i never… no one’s ever…

do you even know what a cock looks like, sweetheart?

your whole face burned. i mean… no! not really. i’ve seen it in biology but not in real life.

no…

he smiled. god, he was so calm. so smug. like this was a lesson he’d taught a you.

that’s good, he said. i like that. means i get to be the first one to show you everything.

you looked down, still confused. but why… me? why’re you doing this…

he lifted your chin and looked you in the eyes.

because you’re the only one who still has something worth touching.

and then his hand slipped past the side of your panties hot fingers grazing your folds gently, slowly, carefully.

you gasped.

professor..

shh, he whispered, rocking you again. this is just a lesson. now tell me the truth…

his fingers rubbed delicately up and down your slit.

have you ever touched yourself here before?

you whimpered, eyes wide.

i… i tried once… but i didn’t know what to do… i stopped… my fingers hurts my pussy..

that’s because no one ever taught you, he said. and now i will.

your breath hitched hard when his fingers slid deeper, just barely spreading your soft, soaked folds open under the cotton of your panties. your whole body jerked, thighs twitching, lips parting but no sound came out at first. and then, like something cracked inside you, your face crumpled.

professor…

his fingers paused instantly.

what is it, baby?

your hands curled into his shirt, face twisting, eyes filling fast.

i-it feels so weird… it’s t-tingly and i— you whimpered, cheeks wet, i think i need to… pee or something…

you tried to close your thighs. tried to squirm away. but his arms held you tighter, locking you into his lap like you were made to stay there. he pressed a kiss to the side of your face, slow and gentle and warm like he wasn’t doing anything wrong at all.

shhh… no, no, sweetheart. you’re not gonna pee.

he whispered, brushing your hair back as your tears slipped down.

that’s just your little body not knowing what to do. it’s okay. it’s good. it means you’re feeling it right.

b-but professor, why’re you touching me there, you cried softly. i-it’s private…

he didn’t stop rocking you, just pressed his palm deeper against your soaked panties again and rubbing it.

it is private, he murmured, kissing your cheek. but you needed help. and no one else was going to teach you the right way. only me.

you whimpered, hips jerking forward without meaning to. the heat was unbearable. and the shame stung just as badly.

but you’re my teacher…

i know, he whispered. and that’s why it’s okay.

your eyes widened.

what…?

because sweetheart, he said, rubbing you slower now, lips brushing your temple. i see how soft you are in class. how shy. no one else notices. but i do. and that means i’m the only one who gets to help you.

you sobbed again, barely able to sit still, your hips sliding forward with every desperate rock of his thigh.

i don’t wanna be weird… i’m not like those other girls you said…

you’re not, he breathed. you’re better. softer. cuter. you don’t chase boys.

you don’t pretend to be grown. you just sit there with your pretty little skirts and keep everything bottled up, like your body’s too good for this world.

you hiccuped, voice cracking.

d-does your wife pussy pee like this…?

the question came out in a whisper. like something you shouldn’t have asked.

he went quiet for a beat. the movement slowed.

then his mouth dipped to your ear.

no, he said flatly.

his hand cupped your pussy again, rubbing the wet fabric in slow, grinding motions.

she’s old now. bitter. independent. thinks she knows everything. never cries for me like you do.

you blinked tears down your cheeks.

i’m not trying to cry..—

but i love it, he said. i love how overwhelmed you get. how honest you are when you’re like this.

his fingers slid under your panties fully this time, parting your slick folds with a quiet squelch that made your entire body tense.

you’re so sweet down here, he whispered. so soft. you’re leaking all over me, baby. it’s okay. let it happen.

but i-i don’t know why i feel like this, you whispered, trembling.

because you’re finally safe, he said, kissing your cheek, rubbing slow, deep circles into your pussy now. parting your wet lips with his thick fingers exposing your soaked twitching hole.

his thigh was so warm, and everything felt slippery between your legs. you didn’t even know when your panties got this wet. your whole body trembled against him, tucked into his lap like you were part of him now his hands guiding your hips in soft, humiliating little rocks while he whispered so gently into your ear, like this was all just... educational.

feel that, baby?

he murmured, hand slipping lower again to press between your legs,

cupping you through the soaked cotton.

you’ve been dripping since dinner.

i-it’s not my fault..

you whispered, voice cracking, tears brimming.

i don’t know why it’s happening...

he hummed, rubbing slow lazy circles over your pussy with two fingers.

because your body knows what it needs. even if your brain’s still trying to catch up.

your lip quivered. your thighs twitched. the damp heat had gotten unbearable.

but professor… this place… it’s gross and private. isn’t it wrong?

his voice honey-sweet.

it is private. that’s why it’s mine now. only someone who really cares should ever touch you here. and i care more than anyone ever could.

you whimpered, tears falling.

i don’t understand why it feels like this,

you sniffled.

i-it’s like… hot. and i get this.. tingly squeeze inside. like i’m gonna pee..—

oh, baby.

he whispered with a soft laugh.

you’re not gonna pee. that’s your little pussy trying to cum. it just doesn’t know how yet.

you shook your head.

i-i’ve never done that before. i never touched it like that. i didn’t know it could do that…

i know,

he said, rocking you a little rougher now.

you need me to teach you everything, don’t you?

yeah…

good girl. then let’s start with the basics. say the word.. 'cock.'

your eyes went wide.

i don’t want to..-

his fingers dipped just beneath your panties, grazing your soaked slit.

say it.

you swallowed hard, squirming.

..cock.

he groaned softly into your hair.

that’s it. again.

‘cock.’

you repeated again, blushing.

mmh. now say, 'i’m wet.'

your voice cracked.

i’m wet…

he licked his lips, dragging his fingers up and down your folds, so slow you thought you’d break apart.

say, 'touch me here.'

t-touch me… here…

good girl,

he growled.

you’re so fucking sweet.

you gasped as he unbuckled his belt behind you. your body froze. your heart skipped.

what are you doing…?

relax. he breathed, stroking himself now behind your back. i’m not gonna do anything to you. just sit right there sweetheart.

you flinched when something heavy and hot pressed against your thigh. you looked down. your breath caught.

what is that..—?

you whispered, panicked.

why is it so… big?

he chuckled darkly, wrapping one arm tight around your belly.

that’s my cock, baby. the thing your little body keeps reacting to. it’s big because you’re small. because you’re made to sit right here and take care of it just like this.

your eyes filled again.

it’s scary…

shhh, i know, baby. i know it looks scary. but it’s not for hurting you. it’s just for making you feel good.

he moaned, stroking himself faster now, grinding your soaked pussy down harder onto his thigh. you’re perfect, baby. so soft. so sweet. say it again.

professor c-cock… i’m wet… touch me here…

his whole body shuddered behind you. you could feel the heat spurt across your leg,

thick and wet and terrifying. he groaned deep, squeezing your belly tight, panting against your ear.

see what you do to me, baby? just by sitting there leaking like that… fuck.

you looked down at the mess between your thighs.

you were still tingling. still hot. still wet. your thighs were sticky where your panties clung, and your tummy felt tight in a way you didn’t know how to soothe. he’d told you to rest. to go lay down.

to be his good girl and not touch anything but how could you?

not after what he did to you.

you were on the bed, curled up in your thin little pajama set shorts too small, top riding up your soft belly, clutching your stuffed bunny with your cheek pressed to the sheets. your eyes kept drifting to the light under the bathroom door.

you heard the shower.

your thighs pressed together again. he was in there. naked. touching himself maybe. you weren’t sure what men did when they showered. but you knew what you saw earlier the thick, scary thing that had rubbed against your leg. it looked swollen. heavy. too veiny. and it made your whole body squeeze up with confusion and need. your bare feet padded across the carpet before you even realized it. bunny still in your arms, you crept closer to the door, the quiet hiss of water growing louder. and then you peeked. your breath hitched.

he was there back turned, broad shoulders glistening. his hips rocked under the spray.and between his thighs… it hung so long. thick. heavy. wet and twitching slightly. your whole body locked up. you didn’t even notice the sound you made.

his head turned.

his voice was sharp.

what are you doing?

you flinched, hugging your plush tighter.

i-i was just… looking…

you whispered, shrinking in the doorway.

he stepped out of the shower slowly, water trailing down his chest, down to his hips, down to the terrifying length between his legs.

his brows furrowed.

i told you to be in bed.

you whispered

i was.. but i couldn’t stop thinking about it…

he paused.

about what?

your eyes dropped.

your… your manly big thing.

he blinked. then he laughed.

this?

he asked, wrapping his big hand lazily around it, giving it one slow stroke.

it scared you?

you nodded fast, lip trembling.

it’s so ugly… and… veiny… and hairy… and it looks like it’s in pain or something…

he stepped closer, cock still hanging, still so heavy. your eyes widened.

it’s not in pain, babygirl.

he said gently.

it just gets like this when it needs attention. and yours made it like this, remember?

you squirmed in place, thighs rubbing together again.

i didn’t mean to…

he crouched in front of you, still naked, stroking it idly with one hand.

i know, sweetheart. but it’s part of being close. bonding.

bonding? you repeated, voice unsure.

mhm, he smiled. girls your age bond with their daddy’s big cock when they don’t have anyone else to teach them.

but… what is it?

you asked, voice soft.

what does it do?

he leaned closer, rubbing the tip against your center pajama shorts, right where you were still damp.

it makes you feel good. it helps when that little place between your legs gets too full. like earlier. you felt better when i touched you there, didn’t you?

you nodded slowly.

but… it looks like it wouldn’t even fit… anywhere…

he smiled wider.

that’s why we start small. we’ll get you used to it, baby. don’t be scared. it loves you already. can’t you see how hard it gets when you’re near?

he gave it another slow stroke, and you couldn’t look away. it twitched again. your whole body ached.

you’ll learn to love it too. he murmured. you’ll see. soon you’ll be begging me to let it kiss your little pussy. and when you’re ready, we’ll make it yours forever.

you whimpered, hugging your bunny tighter.

do i have to? he kissed your forehead, thick cock still brushing your thighs.

you couldn’t stop looking at it.

he stood there, still wet from the shower, his thick cock hanging heavy between his legs, twitching every few seconds like it had a mind of its own. it scared you. made your stomach twist and your thighs press together all over again.

you hugged your bunny tighter.

it’s still twitching… you whispered.

toji chuckled, slow and dark.

yeah, babygirl. because you’re still here.

your face burned.

do you… want to say hi to it?

you blinked.

what?

he stepped closer, his cock brushing your leg again. he likes you. i think he wants you to touch him.

but it’s not a person… you murmured, confused.

he’s not, toji said gently. but he reacts like one. look how hard he gets when you’re near. look how red and swollen his head is. that’s all for you, baby.

you looked down, trembling. it was huge. the tip shiny and flushed, leaking a little bead

that dripped slowly.

i don’t know how to touch it… what if i do it wrong…?

toji smiled.

you won’t. just pet it a little. like you do with your bunny..

your hand moved slow. so slow. your fingers brushed the side of the shaft, and toji hissed between his teeth.

fuck… see? he likes you already.

it’s… hard. but soft… you said, voice cracking. and warm…

he loves your hands, toji whispered, wrapping his own big hand over yours and helping you stroke down.

you’re the first person he’s wanted in years.

but why does it feel like it’s… pulsing?

because he’s excited. because you’re so pretty and soft and sweet. he knows you’re made for him.

you whimpered as your fingers closed around it shakily, barely able to hold half its thickness.

it’s so big… he won’t fit anywhere…

toji kissed your cheek.

not yet. but one day he’ll fit perfectly. your pussy’s still too small. but he’s patient.

your eyes were still wide. your thighs rubbed together from the pressure building again.

do you want to kiss him?

you froze.

w-what…?

just a little kiss. right here.

he stroked the leaking tip, smearing it with his thumb.

give him some love babygirl.

you shook your head fast.

b-but it’s… it smells weird… and sticky…

that’s just because he’s happy,

toji whispered.

he needs to bond with you. just like you bond with your bunny when you sleep with it.

but he’s not soft like bunny… he’s scary…

toji cupped your chin and gently guided your head down, cock pressed against your cheek now, hot and veiny and twitching.

just a kiss, baby. just a little one on the tip.

you whimpered again, mouth trembling.

i… okay…

you leaned down and pressed your lips to the flushed head. toji groaned loud, his hand tightening in your hair.

fuck, baby… you’re perfect.

you pulled back quickly, eyes watery.

he stroked your hair, breathing hard.

you were still on your knees.

the bathroom tiles felt cold under your thighs, and the smell of his skin clean but earthy, musky, older was thick in the steam around you. toji stood in front of you, cock heavy and hard, veins raised like it was angry. your bunny was clutched to your chest

still, squished between your arms and your trembling body.

now babygirl just a few licks with your sweet tongue.

he murmured, stroking himself slowly.

like ice cream. start from the base. all the way up.

your nose wrinkled. your eyes stayed wide, glassy.

i don’t wanna. it smells weird… and it’s hairy…

he laughed, low and deep.

of course it’s hairy, baby. i’m a man. not some pretty little boy from your books.

your gaze dropped again, shame pulsing between your legs. it was huge. thicker than your wrist. flushed and leaking and terrifying.

why’s it so veiny?

because it’s real. strong. and hard for you.

he took a step closer. his thighs flexed. you saw the way his abs weren’t cut, but thick. his stomach had a softness to it, a grown man’s stomach not flat, but firm. his arms were thick and veined, and his chest

had a scar down the side. older. rougher. experienced.

you’ve never seen a body like mine, huh?

you shook your head quickly.

n-no..

he cupped your jaw. tilted your face up.

that’s why you’re lucky. you get to learn with a real man who knows what he’s doing. not some awkward boy.

you squirmed. the tip of his cock rubbing your cheek again.

i’ll be gentle, baby. just one lick. come on… just like ice cream.

you pressed your lips together.

but i don’t want to… it’s… gross…

his hand moved from your jaw to your hair. stroked it softly. then he leaned down, whispering, and i didn’t want to get hard over my sweet little student. but here we are.

you blinked.

you did this,

he murmured.

you made it ache. now you have to help me feel better.

but…

he stroked your hair again, voice like honey.

you’ll feel better too. you’ll see. you’ll feel strong. grown. bonded. and i’ll be so proud of you. don’t you want me to say you did good?

you whimpered, lips parting slowly. he took your hand and wrapped it around the base again. your tiny fingers looked laughable against the girth.

now lick, baby. from the bottom.

your tongue came out. shaky. trembling. the first lick dragged slow along a vein that pulsed against it. you nearly gagged from the taste.

but i can’t…

you can, he whispered. you already are.

he held his cock with one hand, angled it up, and guided you to the leaking tip.

kiss the top again. let him know you’re not mad.

you kissed it. this time wetter. more open.

good girl, he growled. he loves your sweet mouth already.

your body burned. your panties were soaked. your hand was still around him, and your

tongue still trembled against the underside of his shaft.

you didn’t know how long you’d been like that on your knees, throat stretched, lips swollen and trembling around something too big, too hot, too wrong.

he hadn’t stopped. not when you gagged. not when your eyes welled up. not when your nose ran and the salty taste filled your mouth until you didn’t know if you could breathe anymore.

toji was patient. quiet. calm.

like this wasn’t inappropriate.

like he wasn’t your teacher.

you’re doing so well,

he whispered, his hand resting heavy on the back of your head gripping your hair.

guiding you down to the base.

he loves you already, you know that? he’s been waitin’ for you.

your knees burned. your bunny had slipped out of your arms, forgotten in the corner of the steamed-up bathroom. you were dizzy. your jaw ached. spit and precum clung to your chin in wet strands.

this isn’t wrong,

he murmured.

it’s necessary. you’re learning. bonding. this is what happens when a girl’s body starts asking questions. i’m just answering them the only way i can.

you whimpered around him, trying to nod, trying not to choke again. his cock twitched. he groaned softly.

fuck… that’s it, baby. almost there… just hold him a little longer…

he pressed deeper.

your throat squeezed. your chest shuddered.

your eyes blurred.

then he came. thick, hot, punishing pulses flooding your mouth, spilling across your tongue, sliding

down your throat before you could stop it. your body flinched, but he held you close, rubbing your back with one hand while his cock pulsed against your tongue.

shh… it’s okay. he needed to be close to you. he needed to know you accept him.

you couldn’t speak. couldn’t think.

you were still crying.

he pulled out slow, letting his softening length fall against your wet lips as your tears dripped down your chin and onto the tile below.

good girl.

he whispered, crouching down to gather you into his thick arms.

you didn’t resist.

your body folded into him, limp, shaking, soaked.

he carried you out of the bathroom like something fragile and ruined, whispering soft praises the whole time.

you did so good… took me so well… just like i knew you would…

he laid you down on the bed, tucked the blanket around you like nothing had happened.

your plushie bunny was pressed back into your arms, your body still trembling under the heat of shame and the ache between your thighs.

and then he crawled in beside you, propped up on one elbow, stroking your hair.

he misses your mouth already.

you looked up at him, dazed.

he sleeps best in it. and you… you sleep best with him.

he moved your head gently into his lap. you didn’t fight. your lips parted on instinct.

he placed the weight of his cock back between your lips, soft now. warm. familiar.

you closed your mouth around it slowly. your eyes fluttered shut. and tears kept falling.

shh… he whispered, stroking your cheek. this is how good girls rest.

you fell asleep like that.

his cock in your mouth.

his hand in your hair.

his lies buried deeper than anything else inside you…

⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ thank you for reading my twisted little piece of fiction. this story is dark, filthy, and deeply personal🖤

so if you made it all the way through, i appreciate u more than you know. ur reblogs, comments, and thirst keep me going. stay dirty, stay curious, and stay safe🖤

onlypinkslut

[bi-writes]

anatomy of us (2) | alpha!ghost x f!omega!reader

type: limited series, part 2 (7.2k), AO3 in an attempt to tame an unruly alpha, you are given. he did not come with warning labels. but neither did you.

series cw: reader described as plus-sized/curvier, alpha/beta/omega dynamics + universe, dark!simon, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of murder + violence, military criticism, protective!simon, dubcon (but reader does consent), possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, size kink, praise kink, unprotected piv, cumplay, oral (fem!receiving) 18+

PART 1

Tradition is not something you are fond of.

It’s something forced on you. When you question it, it’s offensive–how dare you question these things, made sacred over time? Why would you want to betray thousands of years of history? Time makes it definitive. Your being makes it natural. You submit because that is the natural thing to do, so in that sense, you submit to it all.

That is your duty. That is your calling. When you are claimed, you belong to them. You are property. Autonomy be damned–your place is on your knees, keeping your mouth shut, and any behavior against that is nothing short of a punishable offense, proper. Disobedient omegas make for troublesome households.

To keep you in line, you must be held at a short length from your alpha. It is what is done. It is what is expected.

Tradition.

Simon keeps a hand on you, curled at the base of your spine as he leads you back to where the sleeping quarters are. You know it’s for your protection, but the better part of you wants to smack him off of you whenever you feel his palm press just slightly against you. When you make it back into your room, Simon pauses in the doorway after he opens it for you. He looks nervous almost, sheepish. You turn to face him, looking him up and down. “You can come in if you want. I’m not gonna carry all my stuff by myself, you could probably carry a fucking tank looking at you.”

Simon finally comes inside, ducking his head a little to make it in. You know this room wasn’t meant to house an alpha, but it’s still startling to see him do it, taking up way too much space to be anything but claustrophobic. He watches as you pack your things, stuffing your clothes into your bags and picking up small trinkets around the bedside table and desk. After the bag starts to get heavy, you shove it into his arms as you look towards the bed. It’s a standard issue twin-sized, with barely enough sheets to keep you warm and a lumpy pillow that you hate. You make a face at it before turning around and putting more things into Simon’s arms as you empty the closet.

“Tha’ it?” Simon mutters, still able to peek over the mountain of items that he holds, and you shrug.

“That’s it.”

Simon’s own room is like a hospital room. It’s too clean–there’s nothing personal anywhere, no pictures or barely any clothes other than military issue fatigues. The only civilian clothes he has wouldn’t even make you think twice if you saw him in a bar–Simon will always look like a soldier, through and through, and his room stinks like it. It smells clinical, and nothing about it is cozy or warm. You stand in the middle of the room as Simon puts your things down. You ring your hands together nervously, eyeing the bed with one single, thin sheet on it. It’s too small of a bed for the both of you. It’s too small of a bed just for Simon–you don’t want to think about the kind of sleeping arrangements you’ll need to fit with him on it.

“Wot’s wrong?” Simon asks lowly. You look over your shoulder at him. He’s putting your things into the closet. He’s divided it in half already, and some of your clothes are already hung up next to his. You look back at the bed, pursing your lips.

“There’s not enough blankets,” you say softly. “A-And…And the pillows, here, I don’t like them.”

Simon turns back to your bag, picking up another shirt to hang. You glare at the back of him. It doesn’t do anything; he doesn’t erupt in flames like you might have hoped, but it does give you a moment to notice how well those jeans fit him.

Fuck. Keep it together.

“I’ll get you more blankets,” he shrugs. “And a different pillow.”

The answer is immediate. No fuss. You want to complain, to bite back at him for it, but you don’t know how you would explain your displeasure. You’re looking for a reason to tell your omega that she’s a scheming, hopeless, naïve little shit.

“...I don’t have to win you when y’r already mine.” Isn’t that what he had said? Isn’t that what he had said when he gripped you by the throat and made you realize that everything you had thought about alphas was true? Hadn’t he already shown you that none of them are redeemable?

Not Kate. Not John. Certainly not Simon–they’re all scheming, terrible fucking people, and you cannot wait until you can sink your teeth into Simon’s jugular and rip it out.

Belonging to, being one’s own, fuck if you care. Simon can claim ownership all he wants, but he’ll never tame you. Your omega might be pulling the strings at the moment, but you’re going through withdrawals, you think. Your medication was your lifeline. It kept you from falling off the tightrope, and you just need to learn how to stay upright without it. You can. When you get it back, when it’s in your hands again, she’ll understand.

She has to understand that only you know what’s good for you.

Simon places the rest of your things on his desk. A couple personal things, like your jewelry and some knickknacks, and then your bag with the rest of your clothes to be folded and put away. You take a seat on the edge of the bed, taking a deep breath. At least before, you could pretend like things were still a little normal. You could pretend that in your own room, you were simply waiting for another assignment, that you were just waiting for Kate to give you a call and move you somewhere new, somewhere safer.

“Am I just supposed to stay here and wait for you?” You ask finally. Simon shuffles around the room. He doesn’t look at you; instead, he takes a seat at a desk way too small for him and spreads a few papers around, frowning when he reads something that he doesn’t like. “Is that…is that my job?”

“Dunno.” Simon takes his phone out of his pocket, and he starts typing. “Don’t really feel like babysittin’.”

“I can take care of myself, you know,” you tell him. “I…I have combat experience. I was in training before this.”

Simon snorts, still focused on his phone. He shakes his head a little.

“Cute,” he mutters. “Tha’s cute.”

Patronizing shit.

“I bet I can shoot a target ten times better than you,” you spit at him. His fingers hover over the screen for just a moment, irritated, before he goes back to typing. “And I can hold my own. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Simon puts his phone back into his pocket. He crosses his arms over his chest, letting out a deep breath before coming over to stand in front of you. You tip your head back, and he reaches down with a hand to cup under your jaw, holding you there. Just like that–your omega has you. You lean in, just that much. Simon sees it in your eyes, and he sniffs, looking you over.

Maybe he thinks you’re pathetic. In some sense, you agree with him, because what the fuck is wrong with me? You get one look into Simon’s eyes, and something chemical in you fires. You bend, and you relax, and you know if he asked you to open your mouth so he could spit in it, it would take a tremendous amount of effort to tell him no. It angers you and excites you all the same, and the conflicting flashes under your ribs bring tears to your eyes.

You hate yourself. You hate yourself for not being able to say no. You hate yourself for being everything they said you would be. You hate yourself for being nothing like you thought you were.

You’re soft. Sweet. All bark, no bite, a spiteful kitten that deep down, aims to please. The only thing that really baffles you, though, is why you only feel this way with Simon.

Is it because they told you that you were his mate? Is it because he’s done something, that he’s projecting some kind of scent? Has he already unknowingly changed your very makeup so your body knows that you are bound to him? When you look into John’s eyes, you see alpha. You see big, salivating dog, and if you could, you’d rip the hairs of his beard out just to see him in pain.

But Simon–it’s like you can’t move. Every time you look at him, and he looks at you, he holds you there. Just like now, he’s got you, and you feel like he can read everything you’re feeling. He’s being fed your secrets, and you hate him for it, but I can’t look away, please look away, please don’t make me–

“Need to get you somethin’ to eat,” Simon says finally. “And it’s time to meet the rest of the lot.”

Simon is starting to get used to keeping a hand on you. It annoys you a little, to feel his hand at your back, but the annoyance dissolves when you realize this base is filled with sneering alphas. They holler and yell, and they are very large and angry, but they still are small compared to Simon. They quiet whenever they walk past you, and even the whiff of omega doesn’t deter them with Simon behind you.

In the mess hall, you see Captain Price sitting at a table with two others. When you get closer to the table, you cough a little, stumbling back, and Simon catches you around the waist to hold you upright. The stench of alphas hits you like a truck, and Simon grunts as he tells you relax, fuckin’ hell.

You give him a hard stare–how the fuck would he know? There’s four alphas in your close vicinity, and they’re all puffing their chests and smiling, and it stings to smell them all at once. You turn your head a little to shield yourself, and when you filter everything else out but Simon, it frustrates you a little how much of him seems to calm you down.

Smells so good. Get closer. Press your nose to it, I-I want more–

“I see you two are getting along nicely,” John comments, leaning back in his chair. You roll your eyes a little, and when you lock eyes with him, you purse your lips and try to look anything but pleased. Simon guides you to sit down; he motions to the bench, just to the left of where someone else is already sitting–a big, burly soldier with crazy blue eyes. He has a terrible haircut, short along the sides with tufts of curls falling down the middle and over his forehead. He’s wiggling his eyebrows at his lieutenant behind you. Across from him, there’s another alpha with dark eyes and soft skin, and he’s smiling like an idiot around the rim of his plastic cup. You’re a little nervous–you had spent most of your time on your old base surrounded by betas who barely gave you a glance, and now you’re off your meds and being hit with a million different sensations everywhere you go. Simon’s touch on your back eases your shoulders a little.

“Tha’s Johnny,” Simon points to the one next to you. “Tha’s Gaz. ‘n I’m sure ya had the pleasure of our Captain.”

“Yeah, looks like your beard is still in tact, so glad to see it,” you say curtly, crossing your arms over your chest. The two sergeants laugh, ducking their heads, and John raises a brow before looking at Simon with a clenched jaw. Simon just shrugs, stretching his arm out on the back of your chair, and you get the feeling this happens often–John giving Simon that look, and Simon merely brushing it off. You smile to yourself a little, looking at Simon from over your shoulder. When you meet eyes, he stares back, looking over your face. He lingers on your lips for just a second too long before looking back up again.

I bet he tastes good under that mask. Let’s find out.

“Hungry?” He asks, and you blink. Your omega has never been inside of your head like this. You nearly opened your mouth and asked him for it, asked him please, please–let me taste, I won’t look, just let me taste you. You swallow her down a little, and you just nod to keep yourself moving. Simon stands up to make his way towards where the food is, and you watch curiously as instead of standing in line, he pushes open a door into the kitchen and disappears behind it.

“LT’s been gettin’ ye special meals,” Johnny says with a full mouth. You frown a little, and not just cause he’s chewing with his mouth a little too open.

“What do you mean?”

“He has the cooks make you somethin’ special,” Gaz says as he takes a sip of water. He leans back, smiling again, and it irks you a little. Alphas are brutes, disgusting big things with too many hormones, and you hate that this one gets to be pretty, too. Not that John or his sergeant aren’t attractive, but this one definitely enjoys a good mirror selfie, and it shows. “Something not on the menu. He didn’t like that you weren’t eating much, at the beginning. Made a fuss, and now he gets you better food.”

“He can do that?”

“Well, would ye say no to tha’ big man?” Johnny snorts, dipping his crusty bread in sauce. You look back towards the door, and Simon comes out holding a tray. He sets it down in front of you, and you bite your lip looking down at it. It smells so good, and you pick up your fork gently, sticking it into the pasta and twirling it. When you take a bite and sigh, Simon takes a seat next to you, and you can barely hear the sweet rumble in his chest of satisfaction.

Providing for you. Taking care of you. He’s so capable, isn’t he? Look at what he does for you.

If Simon notices you scoot closer to him, he doesn’t say anything. You don’t react either–it wasn’t a conscious choice.

Simon’s shower has hot water. Not that the showers you’d had were cold, but the communal showers were just that–communal. Shared, and although your escort always made sure you were the only one in there while you showered, it was still feeding off a water heater that always had barely any juice left. Lukewarm showers, so you tried to finish quick.

Simon’s shower turns the water scalding. You giggle with relief when you stand under it, letting it loosen your sore muscles and relieve your aching bones. It feels good, and you take a little longer in there, taking your time and enjoying the heat.

When it’s time to wash your body, you realize you’re missing your own soap. You look around for something else, noticing the unlabeled bottle that rests on a ledge. You squirt a pump of it into your palms, and when you raise it to your nose, your eyes flutter shut.

It’s the eucalyptus you smelled on Simon. A little plastic aftersmell, which you know is from whatever backwater dollar store the military buys it from, but on Simon, it smells so good. You lather it in your hands and hold it up to your nose, and you sigh deeply.

He’s just outside. Why don’t you call for him? I bet he’s listening. I bet he’s waiting for us.

You slide your hands down your arms. With the heat of the water, the whole bathroom starts to smell like it, and you let your hands slide down further, over your waist, between your thighs. When your fingers touch your puffy clit, you’re nearly jolted back into reality.

“Fuck–” You gasp, reaching for the level, shutting the water off. The last of the water curls down the drain, and you cough as you look around. You curl your toes, grounding yourself, and then you get out of the shower and reach for the towel. When you look into the mirror, your pupils are blown wide, and you feel like you don’t recognize yourself. You drop the towel and dress yourself, trying to keep your mind occupied with menial tasks.

Get your shit together.

When you open the bathroom door, Simon is back from his little errand he had run. He’s carrying a few blankets and a thick comforter, and there’s a few new pillows on the bed with it. You use the towel to keep drying the wet strands of your hair, and Simon turns around when he hears you walk in further.

You pass by him wordlessly as you reach the bed. You put your hands on the blankets that he put down, and you close your eyes when you feel how soft they are. Threaded cotton and fleece, lots of thick feathers in the comforter to make it nice and fluffy. When you turn to look over your shoulder, Simon does a terrible job of pretending like he wasn’t just staring at your ass in the little sleep shorts you’re wearing. You want to snap at him, but your omega pinches your tongue.

Take them off. Take them off. Take them off.

“So, what…” You clear your throat. “How are we supposed to sleep in that bed? T-Together?”

Simon tilts his head to the side. You start to despise the mask. You hate that you can’t tell what he’s thinking, not even a little, and after the rather joyous conversations you’ve had with Simon (barf), you can’t say you’re entirely excited to be in this close of a space with him.

“Don’t worry,” Simon murmurs. “I’ll be good.”

Oh, that totally makes you feel better.

Prick.

He makes you get into bed and turn facing the wall as he turns out the lights. He pulls at the edge of his mask uncomfortably, and you realize he doesn’t want you to see his fine. Fine, you think to yourself, throwing the sheets back with a huff, bet you’re fucking ugly mug would blind me anyways.

You cuddle under all the blankets, snuggling into the new pillow that sinks under your head. You hum gently, closing your eyes, and you aren’t able to see Simon rubbing his chest warmly as he watches you. He sucks on his teeth, not truly understanding what he feels, but knowing that it’s soothing the beast in him to take care of you.

It rattles him. Simon isn’t used to this. He’s not used to feeling like he doesn’t have control. He resisted this for so long. He tried so hard to fight, he said no to Kate over and over and over again.

Omegas to Simon were liabilities. To care was to have a target on your back. To be mated meant having something to lose.

Ask Price, is what he told her, ask the fuckin’ sergeants, anyone but me, but she wouldn’t hear it. It had to be him, it had to be, and then she locked him into a room with her, and she leveled with him.

She told him that you are special. That you are precious. That omegas like you don’t exist, that you are one in a single generation, and there isn’t anyone else in the world that will do except for him.

Price, married to the field. The sergeants, immature and might as well be titled barracks bunnies. But Simon–purebred, quiet, controlled. Terrified of himself and what he is. His unofficial pack that he defends with his entire being, that is the only alpha worth giving to you.

Kate had thought about it before. What it might be like to push the hair away from your neck and sink her teeth there. As easy as putting her signature to paper, she could have the CIA running laps to keep you protected, but she knew that wasn’t the life for her. It couldn’t be.

In every situation, Kate would have to choose that lesser evil, and in her world, it would mean her choice would unlikely be you.

Simon? Simon answered to no one. Unlike his sergeants, he cared little for authority; he wouldn’t blink twice saying no to his superior. Unlike his Captain, Simon didn’t mind choosing the bloody way out. He was the first with his finger on the trigger, and the last to sweep a room. Kate knew–if Simon had to choose between the greater good and the omega he claimed?

Fuck the greater good. That, she could count on.

If Kate only asked for one thing, it would be this. She did promise you. She promised she would keep you away from it all. She promised that she would make things right. She promised that she would protect you, but even Kate answers to others, and the reality of this kind of world is that the only way to really protect you was to give you away.

To put you into the same world that you had only begged to be kept away from.

Nobody likes playing matchmaker, but maybe putting together the most stubborn and angry people in the world might save you from yourselves. At least she hoped so.

You’re nearly asleep when you feel Simon come to bed. All the lights are off, and it’s pitch black in the room. There’s some shuffling around the room, and then you feel the blankets move. All of the sudden, a heat stronger than you’ve ever felt takes up the entire bed. Pressed against your back, a solid chest, and then a huge arm falls over your waist.

“We cuddling now?” You mumble sleepily, and Simon breathes out slowly, not responding. When you fall asleep, it’s unnervingly easy. Your omega purrs, digging her nails into you, and when you turn your head in the dark and feel the brush of his unmasked face against yours, she preens.

He’s right there–just a little taste. Just a little. Please, please, please–

Omegas cannot claim, but they can bite. It takes everything inside of you not to sink your teeth into him.

“You smell that? Smells like fuckin’ sweets, mates.”

You take off your headphones and safety glasses, looking over your shoulder. There’s a few recruits a few lanes down from you, wiggling their eyebrows and licking their lips. One of them crudely grabs his crotch, winking at you. You make a face.

Gross.

“Let me see you, baby. Smell so good.”

You holster the gun you’re holding, leaning against the counter with your hip. You raise a brow, tilting your head to the side.

“Are you done?” You ask, and they take that as their cue to start walking closer. An invitation.

They don’t get very far. You smell him before you see him. On instinct, your shoulders relax with that whiff of charcoal. You push off the counter just in time for him to come up behind you, and you feel the heat of his chest as it presses against your back. The recruits in front of you stop immediately, and you feel a disgusting sense of satisfaction when Simon bends over your shoulder to look at you.

“‘n wot’s this?” Simon growls. You shrug, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I don’t know. They wanna have a dick-measuring contest, but I think they’re afraid they’re gonna lose,” you say. You let out an annoyed sigh, turning again to put your safety glasses on. You put the headphones back over your ears and take the gun out of your holster, turning the safety off as you line it up with the paper targets near the back of the course. “You know. Cause my dick is way bigger.”

You unload the clip just for fun. You’re supposed to be practicing on accuracy, which for you meant slower, spaced-out shots to try and hit the same spot over and over, but the sound of the gun going off again and again helps distract you from the laughing, untrained dogs that are littered across the shooting range.

When you put the gun down after emptying the magazine, Simon is salivating. The paper target head is obliterated, each bullet almost next to its last. When you turn around, Simon tilts his head to the side. You holster the gun, starting to walk, and Simon lets his eyes drop to the sway of your hips as you pass by him. It’s not a conscious decision, the way his fingers curl into fists and squeeze hard.

“Told you,” you say to him. “Huge dick, right, baby?”

Something flares in Simon’s chest when he hears it. Like a switch, his legs start moving, following you, and when he passes by a recruit that is standing much too close to you, Simon shoves the recruit back so hard, they smack their nose against the wall and curses from the impact, blood dripping under their bruised nose.

The rest of the day, you don’t see another rookie walk even five feet into your vicinity. Even without a mark on your neck, you are claimed, and right before you leave your room for dinner, Simon is fitting a dark hoodie over your head. The smell overwhelms you. It’s soaked in his scent, and you turn to face him, looking at him suspiciously. Your omega keeps you from questioning him. She wants you to start walking, because she knows he’ll touch you when you do.

It’s that night that Simon asks John for you to join them. All Simon does is slide the shredded paper target across his desk. John picks it up, tacking it onto the wall. He chuckles, shaking his head. It’s an impressive piece of paper, but being a good shot isn’t the only reason someone is cleared to work with them. Even besides that, it’s forbidden.

“Omegas aren’t allowed in the field, Simon,” John reminds him. “You know that.”

“Think tha’s why we should take her,” Simon mutters. “She’s a distraction. A good one.”

“A weapon,” John frowns. He can already hear Kate screaming into his ear if she ever saw you geared up between them on an op.

“A tool.”

“And what does she think of that, eh?” John slips his hat off, tossing it onto his desk. He sighs, running a hand over his beard, and he shakes his head. “And Kate…Kate would hang my fuckin’ head.”

“Not Kate’s responsibility anymore, she’s mine,” Simon bites back. He knows it’s wrong. In all honesty, the sentiment tasted bad from the moment he said it to you, but it is easier to let you believe that he’s using you then try and make you understand him. You wouldn’t understand. You wouldn’t get his reasons, and that’s fine, so if he has to be the bad guy, so be it.

The least he could do is make himself useful. Put your skills to work, poke your mind. See what you can really do.

“Don’t let your girl hear you talkin’ like that, Simon,” John says lowly. “Not her, and certainly not Kate.”

“But you agree,” Simon continues, chuckling lowly. “I speak for her. ‘n I think she’d be right in on it, Captain. Wot else is she to do, eh? Sit in my fuckin’ quarters and wait f’me? Wot kind of life is tha’? She needs this. She’s good. I can teach ‘er. She’ll learn. Well and good she will, I know it.”

John sniffs, running a big hand over his short hair before tapping a pen over the target paper on the wall.

“I need her OK,” John relents finally. “I need to hear it from her. I get that, I’m alright with it. But she has to know what she’s getting into, Simon. And no one but you is responsible for her. If she gets into something, I’m not gonna risk Soap or Gaz for it–”

“I know,” Simon mutters. “She’ll be my shadow. I’ll teach ‘er.”

She’ll be good. She’ll be good because she’s mine.

“Bravo-7, sitrep.”

“Eyes on target. Waiting on confirmation.” Simon looks over his shoulder for a moment, where you’re sitting as his cover. You look cute, he thinks. All geared up. He lets his eyes sweep over the cargo pants that are cinched around your waist. Your nice curves. Thick thighs. Fuck, you smell good, even with all the sand up his nose and the smoke clinging to his mask. You have your rifle tucked into your elbow, and you’ve got it aimed towards the door of the roof.

“Is it always so fucking hot?” You ask, running your wrist over your lip. You’re sweating; you can feel it dripping down the back of your neck and along your back. You’re wearing a lot of gear, but you’ve done this before, and you don’t remember it being so uncomfortable. It must be the climate–you’re not used to this kind of desert, and you need to get it together.

Despite the irritation you feel every time you look at Simon, your omega wants to please him. She wants to show him she can do this, that she’s capable, and you’re starting to not like that she’s behaving as if you and her are one and the same.

I’m in control. Shut the fuck up. Let me focus.

“Just watch the door,” Simon mutters, turning back to focus. He adjusts the scope of his rifle, taking a deep breath as he leans into the stock. He gets his target into his line of sight, and he narrows his eye a little more to watch the group more closely on the ground. It’s hard to ignore you. Normally, the person covering him goes almost unnoticed. Their scent never affects him, not enough to make him look away from his scope, but there’s something in the air way too close to him, and he scrunches his nose a little as he adjusts his position on the ground. “You stink, by the way.”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap. “Not my fault.”

“Certainly is y’r fault.”

“You reek, too, you ass,” you mumble, wiping your forehead again. You adjust how you’re sitting, clearing your throat. It’s scratchy, and you’re starting to itch a little all over, too. “Like wet dog.”

Simon smiles under his mask. He keeps his index finger next to the trigger, and you keep yours on it.

“How much longer do we have to do this? I mean…I thought you were SAS. Don’t you guys…get your hands real dirty? I mean, don’t you go tearing doors down? Get a lot of action? I mean, we’re just sitting ducks on a roof here right now.”

“Wot, you wanna go kick some doors down now?” Simon asks. He shakes his head. “The real job is boring. We do things nice and clean, we only get dirty when we ‘ave to. If I can get a target from 1000 yards away, then tha’s wot I’ll do. Besides. This is wot I’m good at.”

“Yeah, you look real good there on your knees, honey.”

Simon blinks hard when something strong hits his nose. It stings, makes his eyes water. He coughs a little, dropping his head for a moment.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Simon hisses. “Wot the fuck is wrong with ya?”

“I-I don’t know,” you whisper. You take your hand off your rifle for a moment to adjust the collar of your shirt, but it doesn’t help. You shift a little, loosening your tactical vest. You want to take it off, but you know that’s a bad idea out here. It’s hard to think clearly, though, when your brain is cloudy and you’re starting to see things in double every so often. “It’s…it’s too hot.”

Simon huffs, “‘n when was the last time you had a heat?”

“I’ve…I’ve never.” You clear your throat. “I’ve never had one.”

Can you smell him? I can smell him. He smells so good.

Simon nearly leaves his post. He grips his rifle tight, gloved hands squeezing the metal, and he turns to look at you incredulously.

“Fuckin’ repeat tha’?”

“I know you’re blind and dumb, but don’t tell me you’re fucking deaf, too,” you mumble. You swallow, wiping your face again, and Simon presses on the radio on his shoulder.

“Bravo-7 to Bravo-6, how long do we got?”

“Just observation on target for now. Why?”

“Need 10 minutes.”

Simon shuts off the radio. You blink, starting to see double pretty consistently now, and you take a shaky breath as you grip your rifle a little tighter. You hear shuffling behind you, and you look back to see Simon moving from his position.

“What are you doing? Simon–”

“Get over ‘ere.” Simon sets his rifle down. “Tha’ wasn’t a fuckin’ suggestion, tha’ was an order!”

There’s something different in his voice at the end. Something more animal that lilts his drawl, and it makes you coherent enough to start moving–like his voice made all the fog clear up for just a few moments, long enough for you to realize you need him.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

You put your rifle down, crawling over to him, and just as you stumble, Simon catches you. You put your hands on his shoulders, falling into his lap, and he hoists you up until you’re straddling him. You feel him starting to tug on your cargos, and even in your daze, you squeeze his shoulders.

“S-Simon? What are you…What are you doing?”

“Y’r gonna go into heat soon,” Simon mutters. Alarm bells go off in your head, and you dig your nails into his shoulders. He can see it clearly–the panic on your face.

“H-Heat? R-Right now?”

“Not right now,” Simon clicks his tongue. “More like a…pre-heat. Get y’r bloody pants off–”

When Simon tugs your cargos down enough, you gasp when you see the mess your panties are in. They’re soaked, drenched until the cotton is a darker color, sticking to your cunt, and you whimper as Simon tugs you back into his lap with your pants around your ankles. It’s awkward and messy, and you’re sweating bullets, hot and bothered, and your chest feels tight. There’s nothing romantic about it, nothing sweet about the way Simon turns you in his lap. It’s hurried, but you’re just as desperate, clawing to whatever piece of him you can touch and trying to sink into him. If you could, you’d pry him open and force yourself to tuck yourself inside of him. You want to live there forever. You want to be in his skin, soaking it all in–you want it. You want this, don’t you?

He’s touching us! He’s touching us! Let him in!

“W-What’s happening t-to me?”

“‘s olright,” Simon whispers in your ear. “I’ve got ya. There we are…” He cups your pussy, making you squirm. You jolt in his lap, throwing your head back against his shoulder, and he hums as you sink into his touch. Something inside you curls and lights on fire. Your vision blurs, and his scent surrounds you. “Oh…fuck…tha’ wot ya needed, swee’eart? Yeah…”

Yes! Yes! Yes!

“Simon–” Your back arches, and you push your hips into his hand. When he touches your clit, your omega seizes inside your head, and it’s a feeling like you’ve never felt before.

She takes the reigns; and God, does she fucking pull.

You palm at the zipper of his pants. There’s something there, something you want–and you need it. There’s something in your chest that blinds you, that familiar voice in your head that chants–take it out, take it out, take it out.

“‘m workin’ on it, love,” you hear from behind, and you realize you’re talking. You’re out of your body, you think. You’re not yourself. When you feel him in your daze, big and throbbing under your hand, you whine. It comes from deep within your chest, a bubble of nonsense, and Simon coos. He drags your hips closer, and his cock slips under you, between your folds, and you use your palm to keep him pressed to you. You can’t see him, but you felt him when you first met him, and you’re feeling him now.

If there was any doubt that he was anything but an alpha, that thought disappears when his fat tip kisses your clit. He’s hot and throbbing under your hand, and he is more than enough to appease the voice in your head that’s screaming for some kind of inherent relief that it knows he can give.

“Simon, I need it–I need it–”

“I know, love.”

Fuck, Simon would win any dick-measuring contest, you think. Barely the tip of him, and you’re baring your teeth, gripping his thighs and digging your nails into him as you try and breathe through the stretch. He’s not even fully hard yet; the blood is rushing to his cock, and you moan and cry as he sits you down further and further and further–

“What the fuck–what is it you have in your fucking pants, a-a fucking pipe–?!”

“Y’r so much prettier when y’r mouth ain’t runnin’,” Simon mutters. “Ahh–fuck–’s mine, oll mine–”

You put your hands on his knees and throw it back. You’re feral, brain foggy, and all you can think about is getting yourself off. Your body clings to Simon like a thick, curling vice, pussy clamping around him and taking him to the root. You’re dripping down your thighs, wetting his cargos, and you’re thankful that he’s wearing black, otherwise you can’t think about the mess you’d really be leaving on him. The sounds are lewd. Frantic smack, smack, smack against his thick thighs, and the sound is only making you drool for more. He’s so big. He’s hitting you deep, and you swear your insides have never been stretched this far, but it’s like your body is molding itself to fit him. Like you’re making room for him.

It’s so good. It feels right. Your omega growls like an animal, crying with relief. It’s the only thing she’s ever wanted, and she has it in her hands, and she licks at your scent gland until it practically vibrates. Simon’s face is pressed to it, like he can hear her calling. His mask is the only thing separating you, but you can feel his teeth straining against the fabric. They cut over the gland, wet like his tongue is poking against it, too, and your omega screams.

Bite me, bite me, bite me.

“Not yet,” Simon grunts. “Won’t take.”

“You’ll make it take.”

He laughs, and then he punches the air out of you with a nice thrust. Then he’s on you. Suddenly, you’re on your knees, your tummy against the sandy rooftop, with a stallion of a soldier on top of you, taking you like his last meal.

He sounds like more bear than man. Growling, spitting, both hands on either side of your head as he fucks you into the floor. There’s a smile on your face, soft relief that leaves you in your pretty moans and gurgled pleas. It feels so good. The tip of his cock curves and hits against the same place each time, sending pulses that rack your body over and over and over again. Your thighs are shaking, and then Simon slips one hand under you and cups your pussy, fitting it just right until you can grind down on his palm in perfect timing with the way the fat tip of him hits you just well enough. It should hurt. You’ve never taken anything so big–of course you’ve practiced, but nothing can prepare you for the real thing.

This is still practice. You’re not in your heat, not really, and Simon hasn’t lost his fucking mind yet.

Like a fiend, you chase it. The stars, the mountain to climb, the beautiful end. You get up a little more onto your knees and you wrap a hand around his neck, force him against your jaw. You goad him on with pretty words, soft moans–that’s it, right there, please.

It’s not his first time. It’s not his first time relieving an itch he can’t scratch, and it’s not his first time taking an omega by the neck and pounding into her until she can’t speak, but it’s the first time his resolve shatters.

He wants to bite. He’s never felt the urge to bite. If it wasn’t for the mask, his teeth would be an inch deep in your neck, and he’d be memorizing what your blood tasted like for the first time. Your scent is just that much off that he knows it isn’t the right time, but fuck–the need is there. It’s clear.

Special. One of a kind. No one like her. Soft. Sweet. Mine.

His knot swells a little, but it doesn’t lock. You’re not in a proper heat, so it’s not right just yet, but you can feel the edge of it, like the preface to a glorious poem. Thick and spongy, hot, and when he comes, your eyes roll back in your head. It feels like being thirsty for days on end and finally getting that sweet drink of crystal clear water. He pumps you full, creamy and thick and dribbling between your thighs as you squeeze them together. Subconsciously, you’re trying to keep it inside, and Simon groans when as he latches his mouth over your scent gland under the mask and sucks–so hard, it pinches you just right.

The stars align. The tide wanes. You mumble softly, dopey smile on your face, and when your own high hits you, and you’re squirting into his hand, you let his rumbling, low voice pull you back to earth.

“I ‘ave ya, swee’eart,” he says. “Shhh…easy, kitty…Shh…yeah, easy.”

You sigh with relief. Simon handles you with ease. He picks you up, gets you to sit back on your heels. You don’t see it, but Simon fits his wet fingers under the mask, and you keen when you hear him suck on his fingers and hum.

He likes us. Hear that? He likes us.

“Want you to eat me,” you giggle suddenly, and Simon wipes you down, picking your pants back up and zipping them. He pats your ass gently, smoothing a hand over the back of your neck. He knows you’re still in a different headspace. He knows there’s still something else drawing your breath, but he’s trying not to think about it too much. It sounds so much like you.

“Do plenty o’tha’ when we’re in the thick o’it, kitty.”

Back in the humvee, Johnny is smiling like an idiot. He’s sitting next to Kyle, hitting him with his elbow as he wiggles his eyebrows at you and Simon sitting across from them. You tilt your head to the side, glaring.

“What?” You snap, and Johnny cackles. His eyes are flashing, and he reeks like happiness.

“Smells like ye had fun.”

“My gun is loaded, shithead,” you warn him. “And I know how the fucking safety works.”

When Johnny moves to sit in the front near your captain, you try not to think about the sudden warmth over your knee, and the squeeze of Simon’s hand on you.

NEXT

[tiredmamaissy]

Alpha Sung Jin-woo helping me through my heat? Yes, pretty please.

🔞mdni🔞

alpha!jinwoo x lycan!shadow reader

Warnings: smut, p in v, masturbation, dubcon, heat cycle, dom jin, virginity loss, profanity, disgusting filth, creampie, alternating female + male povs, i.e your pov vs jins

a/n: a fair warning I was ovulating while I wrote majority of this ok? So it’s just kinda filthy I apologize. I’ve been thinking about Jinwoo helping us through heat for quite a while and this was the only way my brain could conjure up a situation to make that possible lol I also alternate povs between yours and then jinwoos so we get an idea of what hes feeling too, so I’m so sorry if this is a tad weird 😂

w/c: 7k

your pov 

Aside from my notably pointed ears and canines, there isn’t much else that sets me aside from the humans. Yeah, my hair looks silver in some lighting but my body is pretty identical to that of a human. Well, for the most part. I do have…extra features. 

I thought that being a part of the master's army would change those things—you know, being dead and all. Yet, things are mostly the same aside from the overwhelming urge to serve Master Jinwoo in every way possible. He’s the better king, anyways. 

My father comes nowhere near him. He made me suffer most months, throwing me in the dungeon in the basement of the castle and letting the moon shove a double edged sword through my body as I cried out in agony. 

I thought that was all over. 

One would assume that existing in this…form would mean no pain and discomfort, or even emotions and needs. But I feel everything like I would back in the castle with my shitty excuse for a father. 

But I just…never expected this. 

Another wave ripples through me, tearing me from my thoughts and bringing me to my knees. The other shadows take notice in this little bubble that we float in until the king summons us. Some turn their heads to look at me, while others turn their heads to ignore me. I suppose we all still have most of our free will. 

I clench my thighs together and will the cramp to radiate down and out my extremities. I seal my lips tight but a little whimper still escapes them, and it shocks even me. I don’t know how much more of this I can take. It’s only been a few hours and it’s only getting worse. Just like it used to. At this point, father would be locking the door and throwing away the key.

But I refuse to let this happen in front of the others. At least in my dungeon I had the privacy to suffer and squirm and squeal on my own. I keep my focus on my bruised knees and force the muscles in my thighs to relax. Maybe I can get my own bubble or something. 

I am the only girl here. 

“What’s wrong with her?” I hear a whisper behind me, and the sound of shuffling beside me.

“She kind of…smells.” Another voice fires the words like an arrow through me. 

Not fair. I can’t control that part of this. 

I peek up through my lashes and catch a glimpse of the blockhead called Iron dramatically pointing at me in dead silence. He looks as if he just discovered new land or something. I open my mouth to give him a piece of my mind but an armored hand gives his wrist a satisfying smack. 

“That’s rude.”

It’s Igris, my favorite shadow in the army. Not that I really know the others anyways. He’s the quietest of the lot, and is seemingly master's second in command. I’m not exactly excited for him to see me like this, but there isn’t much I can do about it. I look away and curl into a ball to soothe the dull ache in my core. 

“What’s the matter?” Igris takes a knee beside me and looks me over. “Are you in pain?”

Gods, what do I even say? Nothing, that’s what. I give him a slight nod and bite my cheek to stifle the groan trying to escape from me too. 

“She smells good.” Iron speaks like a caveman, inching his way closer to Igris. Igris extends a hand behind him and halts Iron with a shove, forcing him to keep a distance from me. 

“Give her space.” Igris says sternly, a little louder than needed. I guess that message was for everyone. My cheeks heat up. Shit. I tuck my head down to hide my flushed face and that throb down there worsens. 

Igris tenses. I can sense it—he’s strung taut like a bow ready to snap. I can’t help but wonder if it’s me making him that way or if he’s just being his usual self. Regardless, I can’t bring myself to look back at him right now. Not when I’m making a little mess in my panties. No, that would be shameless. 

Igris clears his throat and his armour clanks as he lowers his face next to mine. “You are part Lycan, correct?” 

Igris speaks for only me to hear. It sounds as if there’s a hidden question disguised behind that one. Whatever it is, I don’t answer. He sighs slightly and allows the uncomfortable silence to pass between us. After what feels like an eternity, Igris pulls back and straightens his spine.

“I’ll inform the king.”

Suddenly we’re being sucked out of this bubble and my heated skin is on the cold tile. It feels like I’m sizzling against it’s surface, and the feeling is delectable. I wonder if my master will let me stay here for a while longer. Just until it’s all over. 

“Inform me of what?” Jin-woo stands before me, yet he’s looking at Igris beside him with his arms crossed over his chest. 

I feel like we’re in trouble or something, especially with him standing like that. It’s making me nervous but the sensation deep in me isn’t allowing the nerves to take over. I can’t get up even if I try. I tighten my grip around my knees and my fangs descend and throb in my mouth.

I hate this. 

“She’s…in pain.” Igris speaks with uncertainty in his voice, like if it were a question rather than a statement. Jinwoo shifts his focus on me, looking down at me with a cocked brow. I guess he’s never had issues with one of his shadows like this.

“Pain?” Jin-woo sounds almost intrigued. “What happened?”  

Igris doesn’t answer right away, he’s giving me a chance to speak for myself but I don’t take it. I’m feeling more embarrassed than anything right now. 

“I am unsure, master.” Igris finally says and I look up to meet the glowing eyes of my creator. 

Jinwoo is kneeling in front of me. The king himself, kneeling, before me. My face flames and my thighs rub against one another. I show my submission and look down, how dare I look into his eyes when he’s on his knees? 

“Speak.” Jinwoo commands me, and the instinct to obey rides me hard. I surprise myself when I glance over at Igris, and then back to my master. And just like that, Jinwoo waves Igris away and he fades into a black mist. 

“Forgive me, you’re my first female shadow. I know privacy is important.” My king speaks to me with his hand extended. He’s urging me to take it. Oh, gods. I obey and take it, and suddenly I’m being carried across the room and lowered onto what I can only assume is his bed. 

“Now, talk to me.” 

Now I have to say it. There’s no escaping it. He himself is demanding an answer, here and now. 

“Um…” I begin, breaking eye contact to look down at my feet. They feel heavier and I have way more color than usual. I almost look…alive. And with this annoying ache, I almost feel alive too. Jin-woo angles his head to catch my gaze and what feels like my heart bursts through my chest. 

“Just something…Lycan.” 

“Something…Lycan.” Jinwoo repeats slowly, nodding slightly as if he understands what I mean. “Right. So will it fix itself? I don’t know if the system has—”  

“Yes! Yes.” I answer him quickly, calming down when I realise that I’ve totally interrupted him. “It’ll go away in a couple days. I just need, uhm—” 

“You need…?” Jinwoo draws out the word as he waits patiently. 

“My own bubble.” I speak with feigned confidence. This is my chance and I’m determined not to let the other shadows see me like this.

“Your own…bubble?” 

Master seems confused. 

“Yes.” I say, and give my best smile. “Please.” 

His brows furrow. Master is definitely confused. 

“I need…privacy.” I use the word he did. 

“Ah.” Jinwoo nods, and looks at me with an unreadable expression. It’s that same expression someone makes when they're trying to solve one of those oddly shaped puzzles. “Okay. Understood.” 

Perfect. I’m getting my own bubble, and I don’t need to worry about anything else other than just getting through this shit show.

“But I can’t give you your own…bubble.” 

What? Didn’t he just say ‘okay’? That he understands? 

“Instead, you’ll stay here.” He motions to his room and for the first time I take it in. The grey paint on his walls. His wooden wardrobe. The flat screen t/v mounted to the wall. His bed that I’m sitting on. 

He wants me to stay here? 

“You said, what? A couple days? I have more than enough mana to keep you here.” Master speaks so casually about allowing me in his personal quarters. Unbothered, he stalks towards the door and reaches for the handle. He opens the door and lingers in the frame, back turned to me. “Take the bed. I’ll take the couch.” 

Absolutely not. 

“No! M-Master, you can’t. I will take the couch, o-or even the basement! I really don’t need much space. Even the floor is fine.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Jin-woo casts me a glance over his shoulder. “I’ll be tending to a few matters and won’t be here most of the time, anyways.” He walks through the bedroom door, collected and composed. “Make yourself at home.” 

The door closes softly behind him and I’m left alone in a room that smells like him. Every part of this place smells like him. His sheets. His pillow. Even the curtains are stained with his musky scent. 

I feel like I’m floating, being led by my nose like a predator to prey. 

And when I come to, I’m curled up in a pile of his laundry in his bed, stripped buck naked. I don’t quite remember how I got in this position, but I’ve never felt more comfortable in a nest before. All my previous nests have been made of my old blankets, and whatever linen my father throws down in the basement.

This one is perfect. And it smells exactly how it should. I tug a fat pillow towards me and embrace it with all four limbs, inhaling deep and holding it. Heat bubbles in my tummy and I moan into the pillow’s cushioned surface. It muffles it just right. 

My toes curl and my thighs grip the pillow, shimmying it closer and closer to the place where it aches the most. The pressure is sublime. I shove my hand between me and the pillow and my fingers strum at my slippery clit. I bury my face into the pillow and my eyes burn when that hot sensation zings through me. 

“Ahh!”

sung jin-woo’s pov 

I never thought I’d have to deal with one of my shadows being in heat. I got the notification as soon as I summoned her and Igris. 

Notification: [Lycan Shadow] is in heat. Do you want to help her? ☐Yes ☐No

Of course I chose yes. What kind of master would I be if I didn’t help one of my loyal shadows? It’s my responsibility. Plus, she’s female. 

But that doesn’t change the fact that I had no idea what it really meant to pick yes. I’m not an idiot—I know what a heat is, especially for a Lycan. I thought giving her some privacy would be enough but now the system seems to be urging me to do a bit more than that. 

Notification: [Lycan shadow] will peak in her heat in 8hrs35mins12secs. There may be a penalty if the quest isn’t completed. 

Quest? Penalty? 

I shift to my side on the couch—I don’t remember it being this tough. The annoying screen follows me and I wave it away. I don’t have time for this. Just keeping her here in this condition is draining my mana quicker than I expected. 

But a penalty? For what? 

I’ve kept her here, let her in my room, in my bed. Isn’t that enough? What more does she need from me? 

Her scent alone was enough to make my head spin. If I didn’t get out of that room when I did I would have lost my shit. I can’t say for certain exactly what would have happened, but she smells like something I’ve never smelled before. She smells like a feeling. 

She smells ripe. 

Fuck, what am I thinking? Ripe? Like a fucking fruit? I toss over to my other side and smack the pillow a couple times. I need to buy a new couch. Imagine if I let her take this piece of plywood that I’m laying on? Or the floor in the basement? I don’t even have a basement. I live on the top floor of an apartment complex. It makes things easier for me when it comes to Kaisel.

Anyways—is that what her father did? Throw her in the basement when her heat came on? I should’ve made that fucker’s death a slow one. 

I huff a sigh and spring up into a sitting position. I eye the floor, maybe it is the better option. I bury my face into my hands. I have a couple commitments for the hunters association tomorrow but those will need to wait for now. I need to deal with her first…however that may be. 

I wonder if she’s okay right now. She didn’t look great at all. And her aura was very off. She felt weak to me, like she was injured and fragile, despite her being a shadow. It made my protective instincts go haywire for a moment. I know Igris felt it too. Couldn’t he have taken the weight of some of this for me? They both exist on the shadow plane that she likes calls a ‘bubble’. 

Cute. Very cute. 

I see what she meant by needing her privacy, though. With a scent like that I can’t trust my soldiers to keep to themselves. I know Igris wouldn’t allow any funny shit to go down but females like their privacy. Jin-ah made me realize that long ago. 

I know that checking on her now would be an invasion of that. So why do I want to? This badly, too? There’s something deep in me urging me to get up and make sure she’s alright. It’s not just my protective instinct. It’s something more. Something primal. 

And the idea unnerves me. 

I stand and begin pacing in my living room to cool off a bit. But my head won’t clear. My thoughts go from obligations I have to get done, to her. Everything about her. The pink on her cheeks that appeared once I started pouring mana into her summoning. The shine in her silver hair when the moonlight caught it just right. The way she squeezed her thighs together and that scent of hers grew even stronger. I bet that’s where it’s emitting from. 

Fucking hell. Get your shit together, man. 

Whatever she’s going through is affecting me too. That’s clear as day. And now I’m standing in front of her door. My door. Well, it’s her door for the next couple of days. Fuck. What’s wrong with me? This is creepy behaviour. I lean in, tilting my head to press the shell of my ear to its wooden exterior. 

Very creepy behaviour. 

So why can’t I stop? I strain to listen, and my hand rests on the door handle. What am I doing? I rip my hand away from the metal and clench my jaw. 

“Ahh!”

Shit. Go in there and check she’s safe.  

No. She’s fine. She’s safe. She’s in my room. I’m here, guarding her. I need to calm down and get myself together, this is ridiculous. She’s a shadow for Christ sake—

“Mmm~” 

Oh? What was that? 

“Ngh!” 

Yep. That was definitely a moan of some sort. I wonder if I’m actually immune to heart attacks, because it feels like I might be having one right now. Or maybe all the blood is just rushing to the wrong head.

“Mmph!”

Christ. Forgive me. 

I palm my crotch, I can’t help it. My hard on hurts. My boxers have no stretch to them. 

Her little sounds are picking up now. They’re muffled but these walls are thin. I want to know what she’s doing in there to be making those noises. 

I need to know. 

My hand goes for the door handle again but I reign it back in. I force myself to step away from the door all together. I’m not doing this. This is a line that I won’t cross with a shadow. I take a few more steps back, turn and head straight for my bed made of concrete. I slip under the blanket and rest my arm over my forehead. 

I force myself to close my eyes and concentrate on getting some sleep and ignoring those delicious sounds coming from my bedroom. Right, ignoring them. I opt to listen to the electricity from the fridge, the ceiling fan, the clock—anything. But nothing distracts me from those sweet, sweet noises she’s making.

Fuck.

I’m as hard as this couch. Rock solid. I haven’t been this hard since high school for fucksake. I try to ignore the branch in my pants and turn over to go to bed. But nothing’s working. 

My hand slides under the band of my boxers and I grab my cock with a vice-like grip. I want it to go down—go away. There’s a part of me that doesn’t want to admit what I’m feeling. 

My shadow is making me unbelievably horny. 

Her sounds. Her scent. 

God, help me. 

My hand moves, up and down. It hurts, so I loosen my grip. I can’t stop my own movements. Just the thought of her in lying in my bed possibly doing things to herself to be making those noises is driving me over the fucking edge. I look over at the door, it’s still shut. 

Good. I can’t have her catching me. This is already crazy as it is. I feel like I’m sneaking around, like I did when I was younger. My hand moves faster. Shit, I’m gonna come already. I can hear her moans from here now, they’re getting even louder and longer. Whatever she’s doing in my room is about to come to a finale. 

And fuck, so am I. 

“F-Fuck!”

“Oh, fuck.” I groan a little too loudly for my liking and explode in my cupped hand. 

I can’t remember the last time I came this fucking hard. I fumble into the kitchen and clean myself up, fixing my boxers and taking a moment to gather myself. I’m going to pretend like I didn’t just cum to one of my shadows and head to bed. 

I’ll deal with this heat thing tomorrow. 

— —

It’s been a few hours and I still haven’t slept. Nor have I calmed down either. I’m getting a little concerned. How many hours need to pass before I see a doctor about having a hard on again? It won’t fucking go down and it’s got its own heartbeat. But how could it when her scent is leaking through the cracks of the door frame? It’s literally seeping out the room in a light tangible mist. 

I don’t know how much more I can take. Her sounds are definitely not helping either. They’re so much louder and desperate—raw and primal. She is most certainly fucking herself in there. And I’d be the world’s biggest liar if I said I didn’t want to be the one in there fucking her. All she needs to do is say the words, and I’d shove my cock in her little cunt so fucking deep. 

I catch my breath. How long was I holding it for? I’m sweating like I’ve climbed a hundred stories and I swear my muscles are swelling. I slip my shirt off, it’s way too tight. The timer says there’s about two hours left until this peaks but I can’t last that long. I’ll have to take Kaisel out to get some fresh air or something. 

Or I’m going to fuck her. 

Shirtless, I grab a coat and bolt to the front door.

“...M-Master.” 

Fuck. She’s calling for me. Fuck. I need to leave now. 

“...oh!...please.” 

My hand grips the door handle and I watch myself turn it. Wait. This isn’t the handle to the front door. It creaks open and her intoxicating scent bursts out and hits me like a ten ton truck. My head spins and my vision blurs for a second. Shit. I blink to focus my eyes and—

Oh, god. 

She’s bent over on all fours in a bed of my linen and laundry, sticking her pussy up in the air. Right in front of my face. Presented on a silver platter for my enjoyment. Swollen and bright pink, and ultra glossy from her heat. 

Fuck, that is where this delicious scent is coming from. 

It looks like it’d be so warm and gooey inside. I need to find out–to be inside. My cock throbs at the thought and I adjust myself. She begins rocking back and forth, thrusting her pussy into the air and then onto my very soaked pillow. Has she been using that thing to get off this whole time? No wonder this has lasted for hours.  

I glance down at her face and the expression etched into her soft features sends a pang through my chest. She’s been suffering, unsatisfied and desperate for a proper release this entire time. I’ve left her here this long because of why again? I can’t remember, but it doesn’t matter. Because I’m going to make this all better.

“You called.” 

your pov

I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep tonight. Not that I’m necessarily surprised or anything, but it still sucks. King Jin-woo’s scent is making this way worse than it usually is. My body probably thinks that a male is here to mate–or whatever my aunt says about Lycans in their heat. Father never allowed that of course, so it quickly became just a bedtime folklore for me. 

But shit, now that it’s happening…everything is so much more intense. 

I rock back and forth. Harder. Faster. It aches, a constant throb of need, pulsing in my womb, in my pussy. I yearn to be filled. By him. By my master, my king. My body craves him, his scent. 

My head feels like it’s stuffed with wool and I can’t concentrate to form a coherent thought. A moan splits my lips and I’m head first into the pillow, arching my back and sticking my pussy in the air. I can feel how swollen I am, and I’m dripping everywhere—down my legs, onto his sheets, his blankets, his clothes.  

My hand mindlessly wanders between my thighs, again. Jokes on it, because nothing it or this pillow can do is going to make it go away. I’ve lost count on how many times I’ve rubbed at that little bump down there. But I know it’s enough to make it really puffy and sensitive. I feel my fingers press little circles into it, and my tears start flowing again. 

I’m crying like an idiot. Thank the gods that I’m alone. The sensation is so overwhelming. It’s too much yet nowhere near enough at the same time. My body is craving more than my fingers can give. Something big enough to reach deep inside me and get rid of that itch I can’t ever reach. My back bows even more and my toes strain and sink into the bed.

I’m presenting my pussy to nobody. 

Because no one’s coming. There is no male. 

My knees drag forward and I hardly bring myself to mount his pillow again. It’s wet from the times I’ve used it to make myself cum. I’m so sore and weak but I can’t help myself. This is truly pathetic, and I ought to be ashamed of myself. But I’m not. I’m really not. I want to call out for him, my master. 

My alpha. 

He’ll make this better, he’ll make the ache go away. 

“...m-master…alpha…” I hear myself croak and another cramp rattles me. “...oh! please...” 

I rock again, sinking my pussy down onto Jinwoo’s pillow and then shoving it back into the air. 

A gust of wind makes me shudder and I hump the pillow another time. 

“You called.” 

Masters’ deep voice envelops me like a cool breeze on a humid day. I didn’t even hear him come in. It feels like my ears are stuffed with cotton, too. My hips thrust my pussy even harder into the air. 

What’s happening to me? 

It’s never been this bad.

“Please.” I barely manage to get out. He should know what I’m asking for, he’s the male. My hips rut my mound into his pillow, pressing my hard, sticky clit into the wet fabric. His footsteps come closer, and I can feel his overpowering presence behind me. It’s so domineering, I feel like I’m suffocating.

“Please, what?” His voice is thick with restraint.

But why is he resisting?

“Please, help me.” I sob the last two words, dismounting his pillow and shuffling back until my knees are at the edge of the bed. “I can’t take it a-anymore, alpha.” 

“Alpha? That’s new.” He lets out a husky chuckle and his fingertips brush against my outer thigh as he positions himself behind me. I whine from his touch and my back sinks even lower. “I guess you could say that I’m your alpha, sure.” 

“Yes, alpha. Please, a-alpha. It’s h-hurting now.”

I’m blubbering. Nothing makes sense. Nothing feels right. I can’t think clearly, I can’t stop my tears, I can’t stop my body. I’m scared, but also excited and aroused. His fingers sink into the fat on my thigh and drag themselves up to my hip, seizing it with force. He tugs me onto him, pressing his clothed bulge against my swollen pussy. 

“Fuck, love. Your pussy is weeping.” He groans, gripping my other hip to hold me steady. I’m not going anywhere. I need this. “Is that how badly she wants me? Enough to cry?” 

He’s speaking about my pussy like it’s got a mind of its own. I mean, it feels that way right now. It’s throbbing for him, leaking clear beads of this sticky liquid it won’t stop making onto his pants. 

He needs to take those off, how will we do this if he doesn’t?   

Master yanks at my hips, ramming me back onto him suddenly–roughly.

“Answer me.” He growls and a sweltering heat floods my cunt. 

“Yes, alpha.” I whisper in anticipation, spreading my legs a little further to make space for his huge figure.

He is alpha. 

“Good girl.” I feel him pluck at the string on his pants and tug them down his legs. “Now, you want me to help you? Yeah?” Jinwoo’s voice is rough and it’s doing things to my body. His hand slips to my inner thigh and his fingertips barely brush against my puffy clit. 

“Mmm—mhm!” I hum and nod, chasing his fingers with my hips. Why is he teasing me? “Please al-pha.” 

“You know, you’re a well-mannered shadow when it suits you, princess.” Jinwoo lets out a subtle chuckle, arching over me until he’s cheek to cheek with me. His cock is prodding at me but in all the wrong places. He needs to be inside. 

“Say the words. And I’ll do it.” His voice lowers to a whisper and he’s putting more and more weight on top of me. “Tell me exactly how you need me to help you.”

I don’t understand how any of this is possible but I don’t care. I’ve never felt more alive than at this moment. 

“Inside. P-Put it inside.” I whimper shakily and my hips stutter to notch him at my opening. It’s becoming obvious that he’s doing this on purpose and I can’t understand why. “H-Hurry please!” 

“Tsk... Put what inside, love?” He tsks, and a menacing smirk tugs at his lips. His knees sink into the mattress behind me. 

“You, alpha. You.” I answer desperately, and he remains stockstill. “Your…cock.” 

“Oh. This?” I feel him tug down his boxers and his cock springs out. It’s hot against me, twitching and pulsing between my pussy lips. I nod like an idiot and my bottom lip quivers. 

Why is he doing this to me?

“Inside where?” His smirk morphs into a little grin and he lets go of my hip to guide himself exactly where he’s supposed to be. “Here?” 

Gods, yes. Yes. Right there.

“Come on. Tell your alpha.” Jin-woo growls the order. 

“Yes. Want you in my pussy! Ple-ase!” I cry out and back up on him, and I hear him chuckle again. What’s so fucking funny? He needs to hurry or I’m going to lose myself completely. 

“God, it's taken everything in me to hold back for this long, you know that? You’ve really been fucking with my head.” Master grumbles, rubbing his cockhead up and down along my slick opening. “Just keeping you here in this form is using most of my mana, princess. I don’t know how much patience I have left in me.”

In this form? What form? I don’t care. He needs to move. 

“Don’t you feel it?” He whispers, catching himself just right at my softest, most sensitive spot. He pushes, gently, slowly. It’s huge. Oh, no. No, he won’t fit. But he needs to. He has to. I spread myself even more, meeting this pressure half way. 

“Don’t you feel…alive? Or is your heat fucking with your head too much for you to notice?” 

What the fuck is he on about?

Smack.

Fuck. Oh fuck. Oh, fuck. 

A high pitched noise rings my ears and I think it might be me. My body tenses and my mind goes blank. The burn is divine but he might actually be splitting me wide open. He’s so big, so deep—so fucking deep. Pushing an exquisite pressure right into that tender, itchy part inside me. It hurts, but it hurts so good. I had no idea that this is what I’ve been missing for all these dreadful months.  

Jinwoo huffs next to my ear, stilling himself inside me. “You okay?”

sung jin-woo’s pov

Easy, Jin. Slowly. Let’s not break her.

I’m pumping mana into her so her form is more real than shadow. From her soft curves down to each strand of hair on her head—I know she’s feeling every little thing as if her heart were actually beating. I don’t think she’s realized though, she’s way too out of it. 

“Don’t you feel…alive? Or is your heat fucking with your head too much for you to notice?”

I attempt to breach her and meet pure resistance. God, she’s tight as fuck. I heave a breath and roll my hips forward, breaking that resistance little by little until I feel a sudden pop. She squeals and her pussy clamps down on my cock, fuck—not good. Not. Good.

The compulsion to sink myself all the way inside is entirely too overwhelming. I try my best to fight it but my hips stammer against my will and whatever strength I have left goes right into forcing my cock inside her tight little cunt in one hard thrust.  

Holy fuck, yes. 

Her pussy isn’t anything near what I imagined. It’s everything and more. And it didn’t give easy. She’s so warm and sticky and soft inside. She’s hugging every inch my cock so fucking tight. 

I grit my teeth so I don’t spray my load inside her. I need to calm down, keep a level head. Make sure I don’t do anything I shouldn’t—like spray my load inside her. But she’s so tight and tense, she’s going to snap my dick in two if she doesn’t ease up. 

She feels like a virgin.

Shit. I didn’t even consider the fact that this might be her first time. 

“You okay?” I huff, desperately trying to resist the urge to rut into her and work her little pussy open for me. If she is, I’ve probably hurt her. “Don’t tell me I just stole your virginity, princess.” 

She whimpers and nods her head into my pillow. Shit. I did. I should’ve been gentler—stayed in control. Eased her into it, stretched her first. 

“S-shh—‘m sorry. Does it hurt?”

She does a series of nods and shakes, like she’s entirely unsure about how she’s feeling right now. But her eyes say it all, they’re puffy and glisten from her tears. I make sure not to move at all, I’m as still as the statue that once killed me. 

“Breathe. It’ll stop hurting soon.” I coo and force myself to loosen my grip on her hips so I can trail my fingers along her spine. She backs up onto me and I glance down.

Dear God, why did I look down? 

Her pussy is stretched thin on my cock, it actually looks like it's sucking me in. Gratification swirls deep in my belly when the dangerous realization sinks in. 

I’m the first cock to ever be in this pussy. 

This cunt belongs to me, and only me now. A flame ignites within me that’s all consuming. It’s a feeling—a feeling of something that’s been imprinted into my being from the very beginning—an instinctual urge that I must satisfy. 

The urge to claim this female underneath me, to make her pussy mine and to stain her womb with my seed. 

Control yourself, Jin. Look away. 

I fling my head back because there’s no way that I can willingly tear my eyes away from the sight of her virgin cunt stretching so beautifully around my cock. I eye the popcorn ceiling and follow the blades of the fan as they spin. 

Focus, focus.

The urge to look again rides me. I grunt and fight it, I have more restraint than this. I clench my jaw. Fuck, I don’t know if I can hold out. I can feel her pussy relaxing and tightening around me. 

Then she rocks on me. 

Back and forth, back and forth. Like she did on the pillow that’s completely drenched with her cum. A low rumble comes from her, she’s growling her impatience, trying to fuck me. I look down and god, her pussy is quivering, drooling strings of her sweet, sticky nectar on my cock. 

She rocks against me harder and lets out a broken groan, and her thighs start to shake. I think she’s gonna come. Fuck yes, she’s about to come on me. 

“Don’t tell me. Is my little virgin princess about to come?”

My instincts dominate me, and my hips buck against my volition. I’m totally out of control. How in the world is she doing this to me? I'm behaving like a goddamn animal. 

Thrust. 

Please, God. 

Thrust. 

I can’t stop myself. 

She nods frantically and meets my brutal thrusts with desperation and need. I growl and piston my cock inside her pussy, hard. She moans loud and long, and her cunt squeezes me so hard that I get a headrush. Her pussy pulses, coating me in a thick slick. 

She’s cumming. Fuck, she’s cumming. 

“Yes, cum on my cock.” I encourage her, hunching over her petite frame. The skin on the back of her neck looks so soft—so delicate. “So pretty.” I want to bite it. Mark her so everyone will know that she belongs to me. What the fuck? No. I won’t do that. I can’t. 

But I want to. And my cock is already kissing her womb so why can’t I exactly?

She’s my shadow, that’s why. She’s not in the right frame of mind. That’s why.

But I’m not either. 

your pov

Whatever pain I felt is long gone, replaced by an overwhelming sensation of good, and right—how things should be. 

Bright white stars twinkle behind my closed eyes. Waves of raw pleasure smack into me and make my legs tremble uncontrollably. He’s filling me so good that I have no other choice but to take his cock and his every thrust.

“Yes, cum on my cock. So pretty.” His words are a hot mist against my neck and I feel his weight shift on top of me. 

Yes. Mount me. 

“Fuck, why do I want to bite you so bad?” 

I don’t know but he should. I show him my throat and whine low, spreading my legs for him to fuck me again. 

“Do it.” I moan, and my hips rock again. I want him to pound me, and then fill my empty womb—it aches. “Please. Bite me, fuck me.” 

He tenses behind me, resisting again. I don’t want him to. 

“I didn’t know such filth could come from a princess’s mouth.” 

Jinwoo’s dark, monotonous voice sends a spasm through my pussy. His fingers grip my jaw and he tugs my head back, exposing my throat. His hot tongue drags along my pulsating jugular and he shuffles from his knees to the balls of his feet. 

“I don’t understand exactly how you’re doing this to me, but I hope you can take it.” He growls a warning and I break out into a shiver. “Because I don’t think I can hold back anymore.” 

He pulls out of me, leaving his mushroomy cockhead notched right under my pelvic bone. The empty feeling makes me mewl and my hips search for him. 

“You’re so fucking noisy.” He huffs, annoyed, teeth scraping against my skin. “So goddamn needy.” His fingers tighten on my jaw, and he plunges his cock back inside me. I see more stars, more fireworks. I yelp out, and my tears trickle down my cheeks again. 

“Quiet, princess. The floor under us will think I’m doing something you don’t want.”

And then he bites me. 

He sinks his blunt teeth into me, locking his jaw when I begin to squirm from the feeling of being claimed—marked. The fingers wrapped around my jaw quickly slip down my throat and muffle my shriek. 

Gods, it’s too much. Too much. 

“Yes—yes!” I gurgle, and he bites down even harder. I’ll be bruised for weeks but that’s okay. 

He grinds into me, grunting while he’s shoving all he can inside as deep as it’ll go. He works me open, and I feel him deep in my tummy. I guess I’ll be bruised there too, and that’s definitely okay. I want to feel him in me for weeks, until the moon shows me her wicked face again.

Alpha releases me from his bite and he kisses the double crescent mark. I feel him pepper kisses down my shoulder, and he tastes my skin there too. He’s not moving anymore, just staying really deep inside me, hunched over me, breathing hard and loud. I whine loud and suckle on his fingers. 

“Mmm, fuck. Hush.” He snaps at me, breathless. “You want alpha to make it better?”

I nod again, my tears and saliva dribble onto his hand, down his wrist. I see his eyes glow bright in my peripheral vision. He’s going to wreck me and I can’t wait.

“Then be a good girl for me, won’t you?” He growls and smacks into me. 

Once, twice. Thrice. Again, and again. Brutally, cruelly. His thrusts are bloodthirsty, like he’s the beast and not me. He holds me firmly in place, his grip is unrelenting—I can’t get away even if I tried. I’m forced to take each unsparing strike and stroke. 

That heat whirls in my lower abdomen again, and I feel like a matchstick about to burst into flames. His cock is ramming right into that spot super deep, filling it, swelling it. I bite down on his fingers to stifle a guttural moan and he hisses, picking up his pace as punishment. I clamp down on his cock and—

I’m gonna come. 

“Not yet.” He grunts, pulling his fingers out of my mouth and shoving me onto my stomach. 

He yanks his cock out of me and strokes himself with one hand while he uses the other to toss me onto my back. Now he’s looking down at me with an intoxicated expression, bullying his thick frame between my trembling legs. He’s back on the balls of his heels, folding me in half, pinning my legs back so my knees graze against my pointed ears. 

“I want to see what you look like when you come, princess.” 

His cock prods at my sore pussy before he catches it just right and drives himself back inside me with an urgency. He lets out a depraved groan, one that makes me a little nervous, and I swear he goes even deeper than before. 

“M-Master…Al-Alpha…” I whisper as best as I can in this position and my bottom lip juts out. “‘s s-so deep.” 

“Isn’t that what you want, hm?” He uses his strength to push himself into me and his heavy balls press into me. I squeal from the pressure and jolt back but he keeps me where he wants me. “...what you need?” 

My head spins and I start sputtering, switching between mumbling and trying to catch my breath as his weight punches the air out of my lungs. 

“You look so fucked out right now.” He withdraws from me and plunges into me again, putting all of his weight on me. “So drunk on my cock. Yeah?”

I whimper shakily and electricity bolts up my spine. 

“Ooh, fuck. Let me see how pretty you look when you come, love.” He smirks and fucks into me hard and fast, staring deep into my eyes—taking my soul for a second time. “Come on—” He’s growling all his words, his hips striking me with purpose and intention, vicious smack after smack—coaxing my orgasm out of me. “Let your alpha feel your little virgin cunt.” My face screws and I sob when my release takes over me, sending my body into a frenzied convulsion underneath him. “Yes, that’s my pretty girl. Good girl.” He pants and presses his forehead into mine, and his movements falter. “Gonna breed you so deep, so hard, fuck—” 

Yes. Breed me. 

He lets out a sudden, loud grunt, and then I feel it. A harsh throb that isn’t mine, and a heat flooding deep inside me. His hips buck and rut in an uncontrolled manner, and he groans lengthily, darkly. His breath is heavy and fast, and he’s still looking me deep in the eye. I feel myself fade, the dim lights in his room darken some more and my breath won’t stop hitching. I’m satiated and so full—so happy. 

I’m exactly where I should be. 

sung jin-woo’s pov

 I watch her eyes unfocus and her eyelids droop—she’s slipping away. I ease up off of her and throw her leg over to her side, and tuck myself behind her. I stay inside her, making sure not a single drop of my seed is spilled. If I could plug her full of me, I would. My head is still quite foggy, but I can feel that it’s starting to clear now. Her scent is less potent, and her body isn’t as hot to the touch. 

Is it over?

Notification: [Secret Quest: A Lycan’s Heat] is complete.

I breathe a sigh of relief. Her heat has broken. I dismiss the blue screen and glance over to my bedside clock—6:47a.m. An orange hue illuminates behind my grey curtains, and my eyes grow heavier. My mana is dangerously low, but I’ll let it run out completely. 

I don’t want this to end just yet. 

[prosypepper]

cw: suggestive, good ol finger sucking, use of “good girl”, going to tag as dubcon just to stay safe!!!! 18+ mdni!!

“look at me, will you?”

shuffling on your knees, your eyes flutter up to his, purple irises catching yours and keeping them. he can sense your nerves, how intimidated you are by his presence.

suguru knows that in theory, this is wrong.

you’re so. . pliant. you listen to just about anything he has to say, no questions or defiances at all. did he scare you that badly? were you so frightened of his power?

suguru hoped that wasn’t the case. but if it was, then so be it.

your eyes squeeze almost shut when suguru’s hand comes towards your face. but he’s gentle, just barely tracing the outline of your jaw with his fingertips. his thumb rests on your lips, a little pressure telling you to open up.

of course, you comply. you always do.

glossy lips part to welcome the tip of suguru’s thumb, then the entirety of it, the pad resting on your tongue. he swipes the finger over your tongue, noticing the way it twitches and how difficult it is for you to keep it still. how much you’re trying not to close your mouth around him.

so cute, suguru thinks. it’s too much.

“it’s okay,” he coos, devilish smile pulling at his lips, and he leans forward to get a better look at you.

your hands sprawl out on the floor next to you, holding yourself forward so suguru can feel the inside of your mouth. while your jaw is still dropped, he pulls his thumb out and replaces it with his middle and ring fingers, sliding the digits to the back of your mouth.

“you can close your mouth, darling,” suguru suggests, though it’s more of a demand than anything. of course, you listen, closing your lips around suguru’s digits and slightly hallowing out your cheeks. “good. good girl.”

your cheeks get warm and your mind goes fuzzy from the praise, his voice doing nothing but mellowing you out. like he’s magic. and suguru just watches in awe, he pulls and pushes his fingers in and out of your mouth, and you just take it.

so, suguru can’t help it when his mind wonders a little, testing his luck by harshly shoving his fingers to your throat, making a small gag erupt around his digits. and again. and you just stay there, eyes watering from the intrusion, yet welcoming it nonetheless.

you’re nothing but putty in his pretty hands. and that’s okay, for both of you.

[syluses]

fuck me like i’m famous

popstar! rafayel x female reader

in theory, attending your favorite popstar’s after party seems a dream come true. for you, it certainly is. in reality, though? it doesn’t live up to it- at least not innocently.

content popstar! rafayel, nsfw, smut, dubcon, fingering, disillusion, mc learns why idolizing celebrities isn’t wise (by being banged by one during his afterparty), yandere & obsessive undertones, 18+ characters

sidenote hrm… was supposed to be a lil drabble but it snowballed into almost 5k words. hopefully the fishie girlies will like this lil meal tho since he’s kinda a rare sight on the blog 💔 rafayel is freaked the fuck out in this deadass... also i literally had nothing better to name this but i believe chase atlantic kinda fits raf’s vibes here so :,] OH & THANK U FOR 600 FOLLOWERS I LOVE YALL ♡♡♡

Lights glitter on his face in the after party.

You don’t know what you did to earn God’s favor in this life, but whatever the reason, you’re thankful for scoring yourself that ticket. He’s all you listen to; a staple to each of your playlists. And so for what Thomas did- gifting you a special pass he had as an extra to your favorite popstar’s show- you’re ever in his debt.

He might be his publicist; that spare ticket may mean nothing to him. Alright, but-

It might as well mean the whole world to you.

Girls crowd his spot on the couch. It’s decadent: the room bathed in dim, yellow lights as the drinks, generously taken from, sparkle on the table before it. He kicks his long legs out on it and stretches an arm behind the woman at his side. She’s beautiful, scantily clad, all of them are- some curled up to his shoulder, others drunkenly twirling around the room- and because of it, you feel a little out of place.

In jeans and a band tee, you weren’t prepared.

Not for this.

One part of you is positively gushing at the scene that unfolds around you, deciding you could die in peace now that you’d finally experienced one of his concerts, especially in such an exclusive way. Still, another part of you, dwelling low in your belly, twisting like a bad gut feeling, quietly thinks, Has Thomas mistaken me for a whore? Perhaps it’s wrong to think that of those girls... But you also don’t believe they’d take any real offense to that if they were to hear your internal back-and-forth, because they seem delighted to put on their shows for him.

They can’t be blamed, right? I mean… It’s him. Rafayel. Everybody and their mom would trip over their own two feet trying to get an audience with him.

Still.

You ball your fists in your lap.

A-Are you even meant to be here?

Rafayel was always bold on camera, yes; flirtatious to a fault. Sure, he was a playboy and you were aware of that, the whole community was. Really, it was integral to his charm.

But this—

One of the girls giggles when she stumbles over her high heels and into Rafayel’s lap. It’s convenient. Too convenient: even if she’s only half aware of her surroundings, in for a bad hangover tomorrow morning, she still manages to go flying right towards him. You know the purple-haired man must be aware of it too, her frolicking stunts.

Nonetheless, he catches her in his arms before she topples, and he laughs, too.

It’s a pretty sound. Then again, everything about him is. With his dyed, lavender curls and the softness to his otherwise coy face, the little moles dusting it and his glossy, pink lips— he’s beautiful. All the more in that outfit. Cheeky but not enough as to be scandalous. His stylist and his designer have your applause. Clearly, they know what they’re doing.

On stage, he’d seemed playful, but was able to keep his gallivanting at bay. With a wink, though, all that sex appeal just oozes out, and—

It’s weird. How you can spend so much weeks and months and years idolizing somebody, and then suddenly have all that worshipful intent collapsing in a breath. Within the span of not even an hour, you’ve become so disillusioned with this celebrity- your all time favorite- that you can hardly bear to look at him and his wanton display.

Sat on the armchair opposite of it all as it takes place, deathly quiet, you begin to feel sick.

Is this really him?

You knew he was a flirt, yes, but- but what the hell is even this? Is this what he demeans himself to after each show? Just some cheap manwhore with his hand-selected throng of groupies, sipping away at an expensive wine just moments after he set the mic aside after a love song you’d thought to be heartfelt—

Your glass, the one a suited man offered on a tray and you took only to mimic the others, remains untouched before you.

This is startling. And far from your preferred scene.

M-Maybe you ought to go home. And soon. Is what you’ve been thinking for closer to thirty minutes now, and yet you’re too nervous to speak on it. I mean, maybe if you just stood up and left, nobody would notice your slipping out— the room is far from bright and everybody’s buzzed on something, anyway—

Marbled, coral-blue eyes stare at you over the rim of his glass, and they glint with something you think is mirth.

Curiosity, alongside it.

It makes you second guess yourself. Taking your leave.

He’s been watching you for a while now. Even when the stunning women gather in a flurry around him, tugging on his hair and teasing with whispering breaths in his ear, his attention doesn’t remain on them for long. It drags back to you and, for all the distractions occuring around you (the stereo playing an all too familiar song, the drunken chatter, the unease in your chest), he’s impressively focused.

It’s unnerving. It’s divine. He’s all you listen to in the car and in the shower and in your bedroom when you’re dancing to his newest album in an oversized sleep shirt and panties. You’ve cried to him and laughed to him and now he’s here, in shocking clarity, and you were so so excited, rambling about it to your girlfriends for months, but now you’re not so sure of what you’re seeing. If you like it.

He seems less god to you, now; oh, still heavenly, still angelic, for sure, but he toes more along the line of something wicked— like a cherub fallen.

And you can’t find it in you to get up and scurry out even when that’s all you can picture yourself doing in your head, escaping.

When you catch his eye again, you dip your chin (not out of reverence, no longer, but rather unease) and bite on your lip until you taste blood.

So when he lifts his hand with a snap then, the girls pouting as they crawl off him, dissipating no different than fog- you’re ever thankful for the opportunity to finally get up and leave, too—

A voice chimes over itself, layering over the familiar song playing in the background.

“Hey- wait up, cutie.”

You pause when you belatedly realize it’s calling for you.

As if your legs are stilts, you turn around hesitantly (strange: because really, shouldn’t you be happy he’s noticed you?) and try to lessen the shock on your face- even though his amused little smile tells you it’s as clear as day.

He laughs pleasantly, playful to a fault.

“What’s that silly face for? Oh, IIIIIII see, you’re feeling a lil left out, is my guess. Here,” he pats the cushion beside him and you actually blanche. For a moment you think your heart has stopped beating and those thumps you hear are the drum beats in his song as it drifts through the now empty room.

Save for you and Rafayel, it’s completely barren; the better part of its energy has left with the dancing girls but whatever remains of it, he holds.

You eye the spot beside him, unmoving.

An excuse, you realize right then— you can still spit out an excuse.

“I-I’m not one of the girls,” you stammer with a wince before clearing your throat, “I- I don’t even think I’m really supposed to be here.”

Another laugh, and a dismissive wave of his hand. You try to make yourself laugh too if only to appease him, your idol- endlessly nervous.

“Oh, well that’s just untrue,” he teases. “C’mon, don’t be shy~! I was just playing around with the others. It’s just you and me now, so no need to feel all nervous,” he assures, the image of harmless as he crosses his leg over the other and waits.

You blink rapidly. “I—“

You’re about to spew out a feeble rejection and that’s when his face drops.

You’re not sure, for all the records and posters and billboards you’ve seen of his face, if he’s ever made that expression. Not on camera, at least.

He lowly murmurs, “Aren’t you a fan?”

“I-…. Well-….”

A fan? For years now! His number one! A stupid girlish voice in the corner of your mind shrieks, and you almost dredge some joy out of this whole thing.

Letting out a shaky sigh, defeated, you creep over to him on equally shaky legs and take the spot beside him— all with great hesitance, though.

His pretty face alights again. Some of the pressure loosens up, even if only by a little, and your shoulders relax by a smidge.

Maybe it’s fine. Maybe you’re crazy and this is how he interacts with all his listeners no, no it’s not. Or maybe this is just a normal, celebrity thing and you’re blowing this way out of proportion here.

Just like he did with that other woman- that other likeminded fan or plaything or- or you don’t know- he loops an arm around the back of the couch behind you.

…What’s different, though, is that, unlike with her, he rests his hand on your shoulder and hugs you closer to his side. Clinging.

Rafayel smiles. Charming. Frivolous. With a glint in his eye, intense and engrossed, that’s weirdly sober when taking the half empty drink he sets down on the table into consideration.

“There. Good girl. So tell me, pretty,” he starts thoughtfully, fingertips twirling your hair as he leans into you. For the popstar that takes very little seriously, you think he appears awfully interested in some no-name girl who happened to score herself a limited-time lanyard to see him sing.

You swallow thickly. In the back of your mind, thoughts race. So does your heart. You might explode.

H-He didn’t act like this with the others— did you somehow present yourself in a way that made him think he could take more than what the others let him? More than what the others practically begged him to, but for some fucking reason he wouldn’t—

“Did you like the show?”

“Y-Yeah.” You don’t mean to whisper, but a certain, resigned silence is what you’ve been reduced to. His other hand stretches across his body to rest on your thigh.

Rafayel hums. But before he can speak, you- rudely, might he add- cut in. “I- I have to go home soon, so-“

Amused, he snorts. “Relax, alright? Tonight, you’re a very important person, aren’t you? Home can wait,” he muses, so close he’s near nuzzling your cheek.

A very important person? Funny. You’re just another fool bouncing around amongst the nosebleeds- a face he’ll be hard-pressed to catch and certain to forget. Honestly? This whole facade of his is as cruel as it is unbelievable.

Gradually, he’s letting you down.

Your throat bobs. Almost a bit bitterly, you remind, “I- I know you’re a popstar, but we’re still strangers. You don’t have to feel like you need to entertain me or be nice to me.”

“Huh. You’re one smart cookie,” he wryly comments before giving his head a tiny shake, almost more to himself than to you. “Um, look, cutie, you’re definitely no stranger to me,” his words leave you dazed because they sound genuine. You snap your head up to look at him, needing to gauge his expression and fish for deceit. You… find none.

He smoothly continues. “But I guess I’m no stranger to you either, huh? And tonight, you’ll be like, extra acquainted with me.”

✦

It’s difficult.

-When he’s hovering over you and gently pushing you onto the plush cushions into a half-lying position, to not only push him off but find the strength to.

Physically, Rafayel’s no hulking display of power, but he’s intimidating all the same. Mentally, he’s more or less your idol and although he may not hold too much weight in stature (still, he’s stronger than you), he still holds enough golden trophies to decorate a shelf— and too much influence for you to really comprehend.

Or try to toy with.

…You should want this. Should want to lie down and offer yourself up to him with eagerness— it should be like a blessing and yet you’re hesitating.

…Why are you hesitating? A voice in the back of your head, the one that had raved endlessly to her friends about the upcoming concert, asks perplexedly. You’ve no answer. But the man atop you seems to wonder much of the same, too; his brow twitching just slightly with what you think to be dejection before he tilts your chin with long, slim fingers to kiss you and it’s gone.

He moans into that first kiss. Prettily and soft.

Heat flutters in the core of you, your body involuntarily responding to him even as your eyes snap open and shift to where the door is- or where you think it is (have the lights gotten dimmer? or is he just all you see?)- his palm tugging at your hair softly to lie you down.

His lips are plump, pink, just as gentle as they look as they meld against yours— definitely aroused, there’s no doubt there, his warm breaths tinged with needy whines- but there’s an odd affection in them, too. Something personal and doting.

When he tries to slip in tongue, you reel away but there’s nowhere to go. Not really. Not when your head finally touches the cushion and he lets out a small, disapproving sound before giving up on that goal- for now- and attacking your neck instead.

It’s good. Delicious; that perfect mouth knows its way around a mic and a lover, you suppose- suckling and kissing and nipping with the barest amount of teeth as if he’s intent on leaving a mark.

You can’t hold back on it anymore— you drop your hands that had been hovering awkwardly on his broad shoulders, mewling in response, and he shivers.

“Yeah, cutie, make some noise,” he chuckles mildly. You think back to the auditorium. The roaring cheers and shrieks, the phone lights waving in the air and the mist rolling beneath his feet as he sang.

His hand descends down your belly, and you’re brought back to now.

It’s more instinct than anything that has you clamping your legs shut as soon as his fingers reach the denim. He tuts at you, and yet the glimmer in his eye is… endeared, almost.

“Nuh-uh. Don’t shut me away now,” Rafayel scolds, thought it lacks any real bite. Still, your lashes flutter and you stare agog at him.

Like this, he’s positively gorgeous as he props himself up mere inches away- albeit his little grin can almost be considered vulpine. “Didn’t I put on a great show for you out there? Don’t tell me I get nothing in return,” he pouts, tone light but what lies under it is a layer of desire. Opaque and thick.

Hesitantly, you mull over his words. I mean, you just really want this to be over- so to hell to with it, maybe you should just submit yourself. The sooner you appease the playboy with what he wants— that is, some nameless girl he perceives as cheap enough to get on her back for him— the sooner you can leave and pretend Thomas never gave you his special ticket.

The popstar’s words turn comforting as he watches you carefully. “If you’re shy, don’t worry. I’ve seen it plenty’a times before, you know.”

Bigheaded, you think then. Bigheaded but he has every right to be.

Maybe if it was any other guy bragging about the chicks he fucked and scrutinized, you’d throw up in your mouth— and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t cringe a little on the inside— but it’s embarrassment for yourself above all that stirs in your stomach. It joins the butterflies as your cheeks warm over.

“Now,” he continues, his familiar lilt flattening into heavy, breathy lust, “All I want is to see yours. I’m sure your pussy is pretty, cutie- really,” he convinces.

A tremble. “So pretty.”

Oh, you’re erupting on the inside— heart snapping like a snare drum in your chest, overpowering the faint music and drowning it out- your hand shaking where it weakly closes over the back of his own, now only half trying to drag it away.

He hammers the last nail into your coffin. With a ragged, but gentle breath and- as he leans in- a surprisingly chaste peck to your lips, appreciative of what he has before him.

“Won’t you show me it?”

But jaw slack, you hesitate. And- Of course you hesitate. The reasons for your deliberation, that weird gut feeling, become clearer and clearer as seconds progress:

Firstly, he’s the image of fame- and if you were to deny him, if he said the smallest word over it, your whole entire social life as you knew it would backfire on you. The possibility of his saying mean things on the internet hangs in your mind. Rumors circulating, as untrue as they are vivid, coming to bite you in the ass. For as many hours as you’ve spent watching and listening to Rafayel, you don’t know his true colors (as evidenced by right now); that includes what a wounded ego would look like if you rejected him.

Secondly, you hesitate because—

Because he’s perfect. Much like an idol on a pedestal, carefully set there with a singular light overhead to define him and him alone.

In a dark room, all look to him.

Once- an hour ago- you did, too.

Maybe you still do. You don’t know. There’s a whole bunch of feelings (confusion, awe, a betrayal that makes you question just how parasocial your relationship with him was) swirling inside you, none able to be grazed or grasped, and it shakes a part within.

“Please?” He breathes, ever headstrong.

…Your rationale is headlong, falling into the abyss with a word.

“O-Okay,” you all but squeak out. It’s the best you can manage. Rafayel’s breath hitches at that, though, your given assent, no matter how feeble, planting satisfaction deep in his chest.

And so with that he’s swiftly undoing your jeans and rucking them down your thighs.

It’s less out of good will that you help him shimmy them off you, to a bunch above your shoes, and more so eagerness to be done with this whole thing.

When he tucks his knuckles beneath the waistband of your panties- cutesy cotton put on full display for him, perched above pretty thighs- he curses under his breath.

His hands are as big as a man’s but as soft as a woman’s. His fingertips are dutiful as they brush along your folds, as singleminded, hungry, as the former.

…But when they nudge between your pussy lips and at your tight hole, his thumb prodding expertly at your clit, it’s like he has all the awareness of the latter.

“Ah, you’re so wet…” he muses aloud. Very pleased with his discovery.

His eyelids, dazzling with some glittery shade his makeup artist applied prior to his show, droop and don’t meet your flustered stare as he focuses on the space between your legs. And he takes it upon himself to rid you of your panties, too: for as adorable as they are, Rafayel knows it’ll be ten times better for you both if he can just-

Finally fucking see for himself what you’ve got goin’ on down there—

Undies midway down your leg, he comments, “you’re really hyped up after the show, huh?” His exhale is a shaky sound. His gaze is utterly fascinated (and perhaps a touch unnerving, what with its intensity) when it bounces back to that soft dip below your belly.

You’ll give him this much credit— for as wild as that glint in his unblinking stare becomes, he’s fortunately gentle with you.

He wets his lip absently. “Yeah… it gets me going, too. All the lights and cheering faces... Feeling the bass vibrate up from the floor. Can I be honest, though, cutie? When Thomas- oh, shit-“ he shivers when he inserts a digit in- his pointer one- and your hole instinctively clamps down around it, juices glistening to the base of his knuckle as you try not to squirm.

Y-You can’t believe this is happening. Your clothes are all in a disarray- the only piece intact, actually, is your tee that just so happens to be merchandise of the popstar that hovers over you now with his hand between your legs—

You blink back to real life when he sharply inhales.

“…When Thomas told me you were comin’, I made absolute sure to know your standing. That way, I could find you easily in the crowd. I was gettin’ so worked up just looking at you. Could you hear it-? My voice began to shake.” he chuckles, voice euphony to your ears. Familiar in its lilt but not in its timber.

His words stun you. They don’t make sense- is this is all some cruel, sick game after all-? Or- Or maybe he’s mistaking you for someone else? or he’s just choosing a really weird, admittedly screwed up way to let off some steam. God knows, what with his recent album built on the back of unrequited love, he needs the stress relief—

But no. He continues on like nothing is amiss, like your heart doesn’t plummet to the tips of your toes at his offhanded admission, and you forget how to breathe.

“When our eyes met- you looked like you were doubting yourself, but I really was staring at you, you silly girl.” Again, he’s fucking laughing, albeit this time, it takes on a more self-deprecating tone. You witness, almost unseeing, as his facade crumbles in increments. More and more he undoes it by the seams- much like he is with you.

“I was… Hm. I was even singing about you. All those stupid pining love songs— who do you think they’re for, princess?”

A gasp punches out from your lungs. You don’t know what it’s for- his nonsensical confessions, or his handling as he stuffs in another finger (you could’ve used some more working up to it, sure, he knows, but he’s a little impatient tonight) and scissors you open.

Wet shlicks ring in between guitar riffs. Your essence flows all over his knuckles and the numerous- horrifically expensive, you realize- jewels lining them. Rafayel doesn’t seem nearly as appalled as you do, though... If anything, aroused.

It feels so good. He’s hitting that spongey spot inside you just right. It’s a surreal experience, so much so you almost feel like you’ll coalesce into a dream at any moment. The melody playing in the background, the opulent couch as it groans beneath you with every piston of his arm, the twinkling, but dim lights and his face. That picturesque, idol face.

“Here, I’ll tell you the answer…” he leans over you to whisper in your ear, subjecting you to all the charm of a siren. You’re helpless to it ‘cause you’re just a girl.

“You. Always you.”

You’re dizzy. Your head is light but your lower half is heavy, the inner portion of your thighs numbed and sticky. Your limbs tingle but all you can feel is his lips tenderly suckling at your neck and your gushing walls as they constrict around their intruder.

Though they, too, ease up on him. He’s good at disarming you. That’s how you were walking in here, anyway, disarmed and beyond yourself with excitement.

Rafayel moans over you, finding a great amount of pleasure in the whole ordeal.

“You gonna cum? yeah?” He’s sweet, purring in your ear, making sounds as pretty as a girl- maybe even more so. His voice has won awards for a reason. You recall binging musical ceremonies on the internet and shrieking as soon as his name was called to stage, his seeming nonchalance as he accepted an accolade…

Yet you saw his ears, too, the tips of them red under the resounding applause, and wondered just what or who it was that had him bowing his head to the camera—

“A-Ah, mmph- Rafayel, please—!” You choke, fingers curling into his shoulder. In response, he lets out a pleasured, breathy sound, all encouragement and delight in his eyes.

“Mhm. Go ahead. Cum. Cum, pretty girl, all over my fingers. Oh- I really wanna taste you- will y’let me taste you afterwards?” He’s moaning unabashed as you come undone at warp speed. It’s shameful and your cheeks toast over but you clamp your eyes shut and choose to bask in the feeling of it all as it overwhelms you.

He’s good. So good. Masterful with it, really. Not like any of the bungling guys who courted you for all of one date (the more patient: two) before ripping your pants off and sticking their fingers inside without prompting or even half the skill to back their confidence.

No- he’s every bit qualified and then some.

Your nails dig into his clavicle. Rafayel doesn’t care- if that pinch of pleasure between his brow is the least bit credible, maybe he even likes the sting.

“Good girl. There, good girl.”

It’s building inside you. He works you up progressively, rapidly, and it shows in the little gasps you make that fall back to back, the L shape you make with either of your legs as they hitch up around his hips and quake, the ball in your gut that suddenly hardens before—

“Ngh— Rafayel-!”

You scream. Louder than the music. Louder than his words of encouragement, sugar-sweet, hungry, susurrating as they spill in your ear. He sensually nibbles on it and wraps his free hand around your head- with a misplaced affection, you think- to anchor you throughout your climax. He manages to keep you grounded there on the couch but only barely.

Your mind does slip off to another place, though, floating in white oblivion for a number of seconds as your limbs offer small trembles.

Rafayal takes close to nothing serious. So the light, but bubbly laugh that draws you back to consciousness with a sigh is fairly appropriate.

What isn’t is his touchiness as he drags you to sit on his lap— boneless; your skin damp with heat, your damned pants still cuffed awkwardly around your ankles— and croons into your neck. Holding you close like a lover would in the after glow. But this isn’t the after glow, this is the after show. But then again, if his earlier words were true- the ones that barrel back into you with clarity, the haze dissipating- then…

But no. No, how could that be? Those songs aren’t about you— and when you met his eye during the opening, and all the times afterward, you were sure it was just your imagination, especially after the fan beside you threw up her arms and cheered as if his stare was for her instead—

You might know Thomas (very vaguely- more of a friend of a friend you’ve seen at a few get-togethers; you follow him on insta), but that doesn’t mean Rafayel, the man he works for, should know you... I mean, you doubt they hang out often, anyway. Especially not since Thomas would more or less be viewed as the king of no-fun in the popstar’s eyes.

His whole job is to assure that Rafayel keeps his lips sealed tight: you can’t imagine that he’d be loose with his own by chatting with him about you, a girl he’s not all too familiar with but knows just enough to throw a spare ticket at.

So there’s just no way any of this is true.

Half of you expects Rafayel to shove you off his lap at any second, snap back to the reality that you’re not the woman he mistook you for, and flusteredly point you to the door. The other half of you is like it’s waiting for him to pull out his cock (it stirs underneath your ass, hard and by the feel of it, very excited) and take all that’s left to.

He moves your hair aside your shoulder and rubs along your back, instead.

And he whispers in your ear (or into your neck, really), his warm breath fanning there as he says like it’s a vow:

“Wanna see you at my next show. Better be there.”

Your throat bobs. As he speaks, you try not to focus too much on the fluid that oozes from your pussy lips and onto his expensive, designer slacks- but that’s no easy task when he seems to want for that, slightly lifting his hips up.

“No. Before that, even—“ he pauses for a moment, seemingly deep in thought before smiling, resolved. “Oh, I know- I’ll have Thomas help get you settled in with the tour bus. That way, you can just be on the road with me.”

You gawk. Whatever he’s saying doesn’t reach you; you’re only receiving that garbled bits of it, like a radio interpolated by static between voices. Your palms lift to his chest and push there softly.

Smoothly, he takes them in his own and kisses the knuckles, peering up at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky, giggling.

“Doesn’t that sound just great, cutie?”

“I- wait, you-?”

“I’ll name my next song after you- my next album, even!- and then we can go public immediately.” You can recognize it for what it is, even coming from someone as frivolous as him.

A promise.

“The fans will love you,” he says excitedly before leaning in and smushing a kiss to your damp hairline, murmuring there with a fiery tinge of what you think is devotion. “But not as much as I already do.”

He fishes into his pocket, then, one hand still securing your waist.

“Lemme give Thomas a call… I guess he kinda deserves my ‘thank you’, too, huh?”

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, + 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 ♡

[freaktoru]

✰ cw; stepcest, oral m!receiving, dubcon, gojo is mean

no matter how much you try to deny it, your step brother, gojo satoru knows how much you love to suck his cock. sure, it's filthy and wrong to be this cock drunk over your step brother, but you just can't help yourself. he fucks you so good.

"shit hah—suck it harder" gojo groans, a slender hand tangled in your hair, pushing you down further on his cock. you're a choked-up drooling mess—crying and gagging on your step brother's cock. he’s so fucking mean with it too—always forcing you down deeper, barely giving you a second to even gasp for air.

you've already swallowed his cum three times now—your jaw fucking hurts and the carpet beneath you has left the skin on your knees burning and raw. you are a fucking mess, but the fucker loves it—god he loves it so much. he just can’t control himself when your wet lips are wrapped so tightly around his cock, sucking the literal soul out of him.

he does this every damn night. he strolls into your room late at night, his mere presence already fucking irritating—then has the audacity to mock you for how eagerly you take his cock.

"get the fuck out of my room" you spit at him, trying to enjoy one evening to yourself without him fucking pestering you.

"awww c'mon princess, you don't wanna hang out with your step brother? i know you love meee" he taunts, dragging out his words as he drapes a long arm around your shoulders, peeking over at your laptop.

"go fuck yourself" you bite out, roughly pushing his arm off of you.

"why do that when i have you?" he sneers, closing your laptop with two fingers. annoyed, you push back from your desk, getting out of your chair and walking towards your door. "i told you to get. the. fuck. out." you point to the door, angrily tapping your foot on the ground as you impatiently wait for him to leave.

he only chuckles, leaning back against your desk, turning around to face you— lightly patting his thigh with one hand before saying “come here”.

your face twists in disgust at his cocky attitude. you already know what he's here for—what he wants. forcing your feet to move, you walk up to him, arms crossed over your chest. you have to tilt your head back just to meet his gaze—he’s so absurdly tall it’s revolting.

"will you leave me the fuck alone?" you ask, impatient to get this over with. "yeah yeah" he replies lazily, pushing you down to your knees with one hand.

so yeah. that's how you find yourself choking on gojo's cock for a third time in a row. gojo never loses. no matter how much you act up or cuss him out, somehow you still end up here, every night— mascara running down your soft cheeks, being fucked absolutely brainless by your step brother. you just couldn't deny the fact that some dark, depraved part of you craved it.

he pulled out for just a few seconds, giving you mere moments to catch your breath before slamming his lengthy, leaking cock back down your poor throat. "mmhn—ngh" was all you managed to pathetically utter.

"what was that? couldn't hear you" he mocks, tightening his strong hold on your hair, only increasing the dull ache in your scalp. you know why he did this. you were nothing but a little whore and a fucking liar—you pissed him off so much, all he wanted to do was shut you up.

[kitteninabunker]

cw: gunplay, dubcon (??), semi-public sex, gagging, mentions of death but nobody dies so rest assured, spit, pretty rushed, lil drabble be i had to write about my man being icky b4 i forgot >.<

"are you gonna be obedient? or should i splatter these pretty little guts all over this wall?"

you don't know how you got here, and by here, i mean in an alleyway, with your brand new white skirt pooled around your ankles and nearly torn to shreds, your freshly manicured nails digging into the muscular flesh of a strange man who's stuffing your slick cunt with the shaft of his gun, his index finger is dangerously close to the trigger as his wet tongue peaks out from between his scarred lips to swipe the shell of your ear.

isn't it just your luck that you ran out of instant ramen tonight, meaning you had to walk outside to the closest convenience store all alone? hey, it isn't your fault that you're a broke college student who's just trying to make ends meet. the news warned civilians of a man lurking on the streets, described as tall, black hair, and incredibly dangerous, but they didn't mention hot. it just so happens that the same man, serialkiller!toji, has you gagged with your own panties, your back arched, stifling your cries and whimpers so not even the oblivious pedestrians passing by the whole scene know just how much danger you're in.

you slowly nod your head in compliance, careful and nervous not to make the wrong move just in case this creep decides he wants to end your life with a bullet through your uterus. "good," toji growls, slowly sliding his gun out of your tight little pussy, leaving it clenching around nothing as he brings the firearm up to his mouth to lick your sweet juices off of it. "j-just take my money, anything!!!!" you're desperately trying to plead with him, your voice muffled by your panties as tears stream out of your eyes, leaving the makeup on your face streaky. oh, who were you kidding? he clearly didn't care about robbing some girl for her money, your purse had dropped onto the ground with all of your belongings spilling out when toji grabbed you, your tiny pink pocket book sits there and you want to kick it toward him. there had to be a possibility that money would divert him from whatever he has planned for you, right?

let's say he did wanted to rob you, why would he bother to strip you naked, making you arch your back as the bright red store lights shine down on you beneath the dark nighttime sky, highlighting the curve of your hips and ass, making your slick folds glisten? he's trying to humiliate you, proving he can break any bitch into being his slut.

"i don't need your money, babygirl."

dammit.

"you're gonna give me this tight, virgin pussy." toji declares, his voice low as goosebumps riddle your skin. "college girls study better whenever they're bred by big, scary men like me, hm?"

well, it's not like you've ever had anyone's dick inside of you. his hypothesis could be correct, but you had bigger fish to fry now that the cool barrel of his gun is pressing into your temple, wet with his spit and your own slick. "d—don't kill me..." a part of you wants to shut your eyes and accept your fate, welcoming whatever is waiting for you in the afterlife, wishing he'd pull that trigger to put you out of your current misery. "scared little lamb." toji chuckles, retracting the gun from your head as he slides it into his back pocket. "m' not gonna kill you either."

the confirmation puts you a bit at ease, this totally isn't how you're gonna die!

toji's brings his calloused, large hand to rub your soft belly as he holds your waist. he swiftly unzips his pants and tugs them down, before the fabric can even hit his thighs, his fat, mushroom tip hits his abdomen as his cock flings out. he holds the base of his dick, slapping his hard length on your asscheek. you gulp thickly, its not even inside of you, yet you can still sense how bad this thing is gonna stretch you out, you don't know if you're ready for it.

you sharply suck in a breath of air as he moves his dick to slide it between your drooling pussy lips, the aching tip brushes against your clit which makes you arch your back deeper. "a-aaah!" you gasp, and toji quicky slaps his hand over your mouth. "quiet, little one." he says, lining himself up with your fluttering hole. "don't wanna get caught out here, now do we?" you shake your head in response, dare you say that you don't wanna get caught bent over by a killer? even if help arrived? toji spreads the bead of precum leaking out of his slit around, mixing it with your slick as his tip prods at your entrance.

then, you feel the burn, the stretch of your hymen as toji slowly pushes his hips forward, his thick pink tip slipping inside of you as you curl your fingers into his skin to grip his arms tighter. "do you want this?" toji asks, leaning his head close to your ear as he kisses it. want what, exactly? a crazy guy fucking you in a dingy alleyway? you'd appreciate it if he would at least buy a motel room, but you can't really complain, or think as his fingers move to your clit and make your brain short-circuit. “yeshhh...” you slur out, already so cock drunk and he hasn't even put his cock fully inside.

toji trusts his hips forward, his entire shaft slipping inside of you as your nails dig deeper into his skin. you forget about the possibility of dying right here tonight, the only thing you can focus on is the way his big cock just feels sooo good inside of you, almost as if you were made to take this psycho's dick. you feel your walls clamping down on toji's cock, molding to it's shape which sends a jolt of pleasure through the both of you.

the slick, wet sounds of your creamy pussy taking him in so deep are the only noise coming from the alley, drowned out by the nightlife in the city as you mewl incoherent babbles as toji keeps fucking you, gripping the flesh of your ass tightly as your plush skin fills the gaps of his fingers. "nnngh—too much..." your soft, whimpering voice escapes your parted lips, your knees tingle, slowly giving up as they struggle to keep you upright.

"you like getting your pussy stretched open by sickos like me?" toji asks, slapping your asscheeks and leaving a stinging red hand print on it. you nod your head, biting down harder on your panties as he fucks you from behind. he doesn't let you adjust to the feeling of his thick cock splitting your pussy open, no, he loves the way that warm, tight mouth between your legs grips onto him so tight, he's only fucking you so he can feel good. "you're taking me in so deep," he groans, his thrust growing sloppier. "no wonder you girls get pregnant so easily."

he spreads your fat cunt apart so he can stuff his cock deeper inside of you, his tip kisses your cervix almost instantly as he bullies himself into your tight heat. his fingers keep rubbing slow circles around your sensitive button, making your soft thighs shut around his wrist. he watches the white ring of your slick bubble at the base of his dick as he slams his hips against your ass, the thick push of pubic hair tickles your skin but turns you on nonetheless.

before you know it, you're cumming, squirting all over toji's dick as he stays inside of you. his finger flicks your clit harder as your juices spray out. you literally see starts as toji grips your jaw tightly to keep your quiet as you reach your high. he pulls out, giving his cunt-juice-soaked shaft a slow pump as he nuts on your lower back, spreading your thick sheet of slick around his tip. you feel the warm spurts of cum hitting your skin, toji wipes some of it up as he brings his finger up to your lips, pulling your panties out of your mouth so you can have a taste of his load.

you tighten your lips around his thick finger, suckling his cum off of them as the pad of his thumb pressed into your clit. "that taste good, baby?" he asks, biting his lip as he grabs your arm to turn you around, grabbing your face as he squishes your lips. "open." you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out as toji leans over your head to land a glob of spit on your tongue. you pull your tongue back into your mouth as you swallow his saliva, he takes your hand and slaps a heavy wad of cash into your palm.

"thanks for the free pussy."

[sooniebby]

hello, if you still take requests, please hear me out

reader is roommates with a guy. a rather hot guy, to be honest

reader is in denial whenever someone asks if he's attracted to his roommate, but it's obvious he is, he can't take his eyes off him... taking quick looks at his crotch...

anyways, unfortunately the room only has one bed, in which they sleep on together. normally, they sleep each on each side of the bed, but tonight, roommate hugs reader from behind, sleeping spooning

reader won't admit, but he's sooo horny. he just lowers his hand and starts jerking off right there and then, careful not to wake roommate up

little does he know his roommate was just pretending to be asleep and is well sure of what he's doing. now, roommate will show reader what he's made of

would you mind writing something like this?

ఌ 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄

W.C › 9.2k

Warnings › this is a random oc. Bottom male reader!!! Changed a few parts of the plot and added kinks since there wasn’t any. Get ready for me using song lyrics, just for a little bit. Anything not translated will be translated at the ending notes. if I have any Korean wrong correct me! I appreciate feedback, I’m not fluent!

Kinks › dubcon, lite somnophilia, dom/sub, manhandling, predator/prey, size difference, blood, possessiveness, dacryphilia

Words to know › 자기야 (jagiya/jagi) means “baby/sweetie”. 선배 (seonbae) title for someone older in school/work. 형 (hyung/hyeong) name for older male from a younger male. 아/야 (a/ya) showing closeness to someone. 동생 (Dongsaeng) little brother/sister, doesn’t have to be a biological sibling/can be a friend.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

❝ 김진우 ❞

Those words were practically all that you heard these days. You know, when you originally came to this university, you had big plans. Plans to date as much as possible. Finally lose your virginity!

But they’re nothing important compared to who you unfortunately got paired to dorm with.

Kim Jinu.

A third year at your university. You felt bitter, to say the least. Of course you would have to unlucky chance of being paired with an upperclassman than another freshman. Gah, you wanted to cry.

Anyone that came up to you was always asking about Mister Kim Jinu! What about you?! You were handsome too!

Well, you were a potato next to Jinu.

The Korean beauty standards just had to pick favorites.

A slow soft sigh left your lips as you stared at your empty screen in front of you. Your fingers twiddled with your pen before you leaned over and pressed it against the screen, attempting to finish the outline of your sketch. You were an art major, dreaming of being an animator or even a comic book artist.

Much to your parents dismay. You haven’t had your mother’s signature kimchi in almost two months now due to your choice. But you tried not to dwell on it! You wanted to be happy.

And if being a starving artist is the only way, so be it!

Speaking of starving….

Your stomach growled as you whined and tossed the pen onto the desk, lying back in your chair as you swirled around. You’d have better luck being a Kpop idol at this point. Maybe it’s not too late. Who doesn’t like a filler member?

You glance in the small circle mirror resting on your desk and probe at your cheeks. Plastic surgery isn’t too much, right? Maybe a slimmer nose? Double eyelids?

“(Name) Oppa..? What are you doing?”

A shriek left your lips as you looked back at Cho Yoona, your classmate. A tight smile pulled on your lips as you took the iced coffee she had in her hands.

“Nothing, nothing. Oppa is just having a mental breakdown.” You said, quickly taking a sip of your coffee to gain some energy back.

Yoona grabbed a chair and pulled it close to your desk, sitting down next to you. “Hm. What are you doing now?”

“Ah? Well, the theme was something out of our comfort zone, so I was trying to create… uh… nude portraits..”

“Huh? Nude? Will Professor Lee Hyunki approve that?”

You shrugged, placing the coffee down onto the desk. “I have a backup plan. I haven’t been able to get in touch with him anyway.” A groan left your throat as you saved your draft before shutting off your computer. “Anyway, let’s go. It’s getting late.”

As you and Yoona packed up, she suddenly looked over to you with a big smirk.

“Oppa… are you… close to Kim Jinu Seonbae?” She asked, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“No.” You quickly said, rolling your eyes. “We’re just roommates. Not close at all.”

“Oh.” She muttered, pouting. “You’re lucky, Oppa. You get to be so close to Jinu Seonbae. Isn’t he handsome up close?” She squealed, clutching her notebook tight against her chest. “I’d die if I get to see him right after he takes a shower!!!”

“Get your mind out of the gutter.” You muttered, playfully flicking her forehead. The two of you left the classroom, turning off the lights and closing the door.

Once Yoona went her own separate way to her own dorms, you couldn’t help but think about what she said. Jinu… in just a towel..?

You heaved as you accidentally swallowed your coffee a bit too fast, pounding at your chest once you finally reached your dorm. Your hands fiddle with your keys while you fight off the harsh coughing burning at your chest. The door swings open as you struggle inside, slamming the door behind you.

Tossing your bag onto your side of the room, you make a beeline for the mini fridge and pull out a water bottle, downing it in seconds. As the cool refreshment calmed the coughing beast within you, you suddenly realized you weren’t holding your coffee anymore.

Your eyes trailed down to see it lying spilled on the floor not too far from your feet.

And unfortunately, it spilled right on a stake of papers near Jinu’s backpack. A shrill girlish scream right of a horror movie leaves your throat as you collapse to your knees and pick up the coffee cup, seeing the damage.

Your fingers felt numb as they slowly peeled the notebook open, seeing the pages stuck together like glue. The once white sheets dark in black, ice cubes coating it like sprinkles. Holy fuck.

Fuck fuck.

Jinu was going to kill you!

With the coffee coating the paper, you could hardly read what was written in it. But judging from the top cover, it looked to be a study guide or something.

Your eyes squinted as you tried to read what you could in hopes of gaging just how bad you fucked up. The words that you could only read were: “바보…토끼…자기…”

What the fuck?

Idiot, rabbit, babe?

What the hell was Jinu writing about?

Jinu was a business major. You couldn’t recall him taking any classes dealing with animals. Maybe it was a code word? Well, all that mattered was that it didn’t seem too important so you quickly grabbed the notebook. Drying it with a hair dryer seemed like your safest bet.

The room door opened, catching your attention as you shoved the notebook behind your back. There stood Jinu, obviously waving bye to someone before finally looking into the room. His eyes zoned in on you, face just frozen for a solid second.

You panicked, thinking that he could possibly see the notebook behind your back. Not the fact you were on your knees, staring up at him with wide cute eyes, and plump lips pulled into a slight pout. Especially with your sweater that was large and baggy, something you preferred, with one of the sleeves down—showing your bare shoulders.

Why would you wear tanks underneath the sweater? The buildings here aren’t that cold.

“Jinu Seonbae..!” You whisper, giggling nervously as you pressed the notebook tight against your back, taking a peek to make sure it didn’t stick out. “How.. was your day?”

Jinu blinked. Once, twice, before a large grin pulled onto his face and his eyes practically closed into those crescent moons girls swooned about. Whatever he was thinking about was long gone.

“I thought I told you to call me hyung, (Name). We’re going to be roommates for a while anyway.” Jinu said, closing the door behind him as he slipped off his shoes and put away his jacket.

You wanted him to stay as far as possible—you couldn’t have him seeing the mess you made! Your eyes trailed around the room, looking for something to distract him with. The floor was feeling sticky from the coffee, its spill coating the floor and now your knees. You didn’t even noticed you had accidentally knelt in the damn puddle.

“H..Hyung! Uhm, can you… get me some napkins?” You yelled, stopping Jinu just as he began to walk past the bathroom door. He balked at your raised voice but simply hummed, turning on his heels to grab some from the connected bathroom.

Your hands gripped the sticky notebook and shoved it underneath one of your old textbooks on your desk, standing up just as Jinu came back.

“Spilled something?”

“Mhm… just some coffee.” You muttered, thanking him for the napkins as you kneeled back down to wipe it up. “I don’t think it got on any of your things.”

Jinu let out a noncommittal hum, standing just inches from you as you bent over. You felt watched—to a strange and uncomfortable amount but you didn’t want to say anything. Once you finished, you glanced up at him, hoping he possibly didn’t notice his missing notebook.

But this position.

No.

No, it was his stare really. You felt yourself squirm, wondering how a guy could look so cute not too long ago and watch you like a hawk the next.

“Ah, (Name), did you eat the sandwich I bought you?” Jinu suddenly asked, his gaze shifting to his desk as he moved past you, sitting down on his chair. “I tried to remember what you liked.”

“Oh uhm. I gave it to my dongsaeng.”

The soft taps on the desk stopped, causing you to look over at Jinu. He was facing the window so you couldn’t get a read on his face. But the total silence made you feel as if what you said was the wrong answer.

“Dongsaeng? Biological?”

“Uhm. Yes. My little brother came to visit me.” You muttered, feeling a bit weirded out he asked that. “He skipped school to see me, but I didn’t have enough money to take him out so I just gave him my lunch. Sorry, Seonbae.”

Jinu’s light tapping on the desk began again as he let out a laugh. “It’s okay! I’ll just make sure to get you two next time.” He turned to face you, a large grin on his lips. Any tension in your body slipped away as you couldn’t help but smile back.

Kim Jinu wasn’t too bad of a roommate.

Just a shame he kept cockblocking you.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Wa, Hyung, these lover letters are all for you?”

On your desk, covering your keyboard and almost the entire space area, was a small mountain of love letters. In your classroom for art major, you all had small little cubicles that was essentially your work station. Unlucky for you, many people found out exactly where yours was to leave gifts.

Oh but not for you.

Are you kidding?

They were all for Jinu.

Your classmate, Im Taeil, reached over and grabbed one of the food that were left, reading the sticky note attached to it. “Oh. This one is for Kim Jinu Seonbae.”

“They’re all for him.” You muttered bitterly, grabbing a heap of them and stomping over to the trash, dumping them with no remorse. Taeil watched you in awe as you cleaned your desk in seconds, leaving just the few snacks.

“Why do they give them to you instead of Jinu Seonbae?” Taeil asked, pulling at the rest of the sticky notes to read what was on them. “Wouldn’t it be easier to just confess to him? Wow, these notes leave nothing to the imagination. I think some of these are from guys too.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing one of the chocolate bars and pulling it open, taking a big bite. “I don’t know! Maybe they can’t handle rejection. I hope they know I’m not his damn servant!” You plopped down onto your chair and sighed, wanting to just drown in your sorrows.

So much for getting laid or finding a partner.

All that anyone wanted was Kim Jinu!

Agh!! You just wanted to say, “꺼져!” But you knew saying “go to hell” to everyone was a bad idea and would practically send you into the shadow realm of no friends.

Though your only friends seemed to be Taeil and Yoona. But you didn’t really think they liked you as a person. You were just the easiest to talk to.

“Hyung, can I…?” Taeil suddenly whispered, catching your attention. His hands made a grabby motion as he inched close to one of the snacks on your desk. You mutely waved and allowed him to grab whatever he wanted. You’d probably just give the rest to Yoona or something. Ah, maybe your little brother…?

“Oh, Oppa! Taeil!” Yoona greeted, the door pushed open as she carried a bag filled with goods. She skipped over, a bright cheery grin on her lips as she stood right in front of you and Taeil. “Look what Jinu Seonbae gave me! Ah, he’s so cool!”

Taeil peaked into the bag and pulled out a bag of chips. “Wow. He really got these for you?” You couldn’t deny the slight twitch in your lips at his wording. Her? Just for Yoona? No way. No way…

Yoona shook her head. “Not just for me! It’s mainly for (Name) Oppa!” She took out another pair of chips and two sodas, handing one over to Taeil. “The rest is for you! There’s a note inside.”

The bag was practically thrusted onto your lap as Yoona walked over to her desk across from yours and plopped down, eagerly chowing down on her snacks.

Taeil looked curious on what the note said but seemed to know there was limits to his nosy behavior as he sat down at his desk two seats away from you. Huh. Mainly for you?

Weird.

You pulled open the plastic bag and pulled out a soda and chips, similar to what he gave Taeil and Yoona. But there was more: two turkey sandwiches. You pulled out the one that had a sticky note on it, tilting your head as you read his handwriting out to yourself.

❝ 여기, 샌드위치 두 개요. 오직 토끼만을 위한! 아니 동생! ❞

❝ Here, two sandwiches. For Bunny only! No Dongsaeng! ❞

“No dongsaeng?”

You shrieked, looking back to see Taeil suddenly standing behind you. He grinned sheepishly, taking a step back.

“Sorry, Hyung. You got so quiet… I was a bit worried.”

Yoona perked up from her desk, tilting her head. “What does it say?” She walked over and glanced down at the note. “Who’s bunny?”

You shrugged, “not sure. I’ve never been called a bunny before.” You let out another pathetic cry of shock when Yoona and Taeil were suddenly close to your face, eyes wide as if they were examining you like a piece of meat.

“Really? You look more like a deer to me.” Yoona muttered.

“No… I see the bunny. Ah, but maybe hamster too. You have chubby cheeks, Hyung!” Taeil chimed in.

You rolled your eyes, wanting to push them away but you kinda enjoyed the attention. You weren’t really into the whole animal representative thing that a lot of Kpop idols did. Just didn’t see the purpose, especially after you grew up. But you wouldn’t lie and say you didn’t like being referred to as such cute animals.

You could’ve gotten an insect!

The rest of the day was uneventful. You actually ended up eating both sandwiches Jinu gave you, slaving away at your project. It wasn’t going as great as you envisioned—nowhere near. You had no problem creating a nude body it was just difficult to make it… artistically pleasing and not full on horny.

❝ 잠깐만요 시간 있나요?…. ❞

Yoona’s Bluetooth speaker sang the melody of AOA - Excuse me as you stared at the rough draft in front of you. You wished you didn’t pick digital art for this project and stick to traditional but there was no use complaining now.

Your wrist tensed as you zoomed in on the face of your model—creating the soft brush strokes of his hair. Sharp eyes, black in color. The outline of lips that you would paint in pink. Maybe even red. Earrings? No, he doesn’t have any.

He’s gotten bigger. Definitely compared to the pictures you’ve seen of him last year from his friends. Weights..? Boxing? His knuckles looked bruised sometimes when you saw him.

Red, aching. Cuts of skin. Bright and glossy from the ointment he’d put on it. Tanned skin. Red against tanned skin—a perfect contrast.

Does it hurt to move? If you kissed it, would the blood coat your lips?

It was such an edgy thought but you wondered how it’d look to use his blood as lipstick.

His thumb pressed on your bottom lip, slowly smearing it. Would he call you pretty? Kissing you so you both can taste the metallic rush of blood. Maybe you can taste something else. White, maybe?

Your breathing shuddered as your grip on your pen tightened, legs pressing tightly together. Red and white. Would he like you in that? Pretty and pliant just for him to claim. Your free hand gently pulled at your pants, alleviating some pressure against your crotch.

Bunny. Were you his bunny?

Is that what he thought of you? Helpless and defenseless? His fingernails digging into your soft skin as blood spilled, your soft moans teetering on the verge of tears.

What did he remind you of?

A fox?

Don’t they eat bunnies?

You didn’t know why the thought made your whole body spasm. Your breathing getting heavy as the pen began to slip from your hand. He’d chase you. Yeah, that’s what a fox does to their prey. Chase you until couldn’t run anymore, huddled in a dead end as he got closer.

You’d cry and beg but he’d take you. Because he wants you—wants you so bad he can’t control himself. He’d always wanted you beneath him screaming his name for all to hear. As you became his prey.

❝ 벗어날 수 없는 걸 ❞

“Oh! I love this song! Taeil, do you like The Boyz?” Yoona said, turning up the volume. Taeil hummed, looking up from his screen. His eyes looked bloodshot at this point. How long have you guys been here?

“I prefer girl groups. Like Red Velvet!” Taeil said, proudly showing his phone that had a Lock Screen of Seulgi. Yoona cooed and showed her Lock Screen of Kevin. Wow, you’re stuck with Kpop fans. You rubbed your eyes, looking away from your screen to stop seeing the dark spots appearing in your vision.

Taeil and Yoona began talking about their favorite groups while you listened to the song. It felt oddly fitting for the mood you were in right now. You’d have to ask Yoona for the name later. Right now you need a drink, stat.

You grabbed your water bottle and took long gulps as you finally glanced back at your drawing. It took a moment for it to fully register before you let out a scream.

No it was certainly manly.

“Hyung?!”

“Oppa?!”

There—right in front of you—was Kim Jinu staring right back at you. You…

You fucking drew him?!

❝ 온통 너로 물들여질 테니… ❞

No way. No fucking way.

But there it was, staring back at you. His fluffy black hair slicked back as if he was drenched in water. Black eyes with his signature big nose. His lips weren’t pulled into his usual smiles. You had drawn him with all of his features except that damn smile.

Damn Kim Jinu… he was affecting you in ways you didn’t think was possible.

You quickly saved your draft on the tablet and turned it off, needing to just go to your dorm and sleep this daze off. “Yoona… Taeil… I need to sleep.” You muttered, Yoona and Taeil staring at you with worried looks. “You guys should go sleep too. It’s late.”

Yoona and Taeil didn’t fight it. It looked as if they were waiting for you to give them permission. You waved them off, stating you needed to clean up a bit before leaving. Your professor didn’t like crumbs. But you didn’t clean, you just stared at your tablet. The large tablet that the school provided that was now logged on into your account, holding a secret.

Your breathing slowed as you reached over and pressed the power button, waiting as it lit up. The soft taps filled the room as you logged back in and clicked your recent save. He appeared in front of you again.

That fox.

A shudder left you as you pulled down your pants, along with your boxers, as your cock plopped out against your tummy. It was small. Smaller than most. Around 4 inches. Possibly 3 really. But it didn’t matter to you really—you didn’t think you’d ever want to top anyway.

Your hand grasped your cock as you began to pump it slowly, staring straight at the drawing in front of you. His cock. You wondered what it looked like.

You respected his privacy so you never dared to stare at him whenever he came out of the shower.

But you wish you did. Wish you could have an accurate picture of how it would look. How it would be deep inside of you. Would it make a bulge in your stomach?

Is he thick? Long? Maybe both.

You arched your back against the chair as you took shallow breaths, your whimpers filling the empty room. Your toes curled as you whined and mewled, wishing someone else was jerking you off.

Oh who were you kidding?

You wished it was Jinu.

Even as you reached your orgasm, cum coating your tummy, you didn’t feel any relief.

What fun was it if he didn’t chase you?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Jagi….”

A hum left your throat as you buried your face into your arms, shivering slightly from the cool air that tickled your stomach.

“Jagiya.”

Puffs of air brushed against your cheek. It was warm, a nice contrast compared to the cool air that covered you. A finger gently touched your cheek. Poking and doing small circles around the outline of it. The hand trailed down your face to your back, rubbing circles as it started a slight rhythm.

❝ 날 놀리는 거야, 예쁜 자기야. ❞

Despite the taps jolting against your skin, it almost lulled you back into sleep. It was something you missed, the touch of someone special. Slowly, it inched further down, moving to the end of your sweater. Your body flinched at the hand now teasing your skin directly as it grazed it your stomach.

❝ 무방비 토끼. 내가 너를 먹어치울게 ❞

It felt sticky. A deep chuckle reverberated against your back. The touch on your skin was possessive, rubbing and massaging your stomach. Your body flinched as your breathing began to stutter. A hand slipped further down, easily squeezing its way into your pants. The sensual touch—it felt as if you belonged to them and only them.

❝ 도망기면 쫓이갈거야, 토끼야… ❞

A gasp left your lips as your eyes opened, looking around to notice that you were still in the classroom. Fuck. Your body tensed as you moved away from your desk, groaning at the awkward position you slept in. As you stretched, your gaze flickered to an ice coffee on your desk with a sticky note attached to it.

It had a badly drawn bunny on it with a heart next to it. The words: “fighting!” were scribbled beside the crude drawing. You couldn’t help but smile, placing the note on small bulletin board near your desk.

It must’ve been your hyung, Lee Minjae. Or who you affectionately called, Minnie Hyung. He was the one who pushed you to pursue your major instead of what your parents wanted. Such a great hyung.

The whole thing about Jinu felt like a distant memory. You’d have to change what you’re submitting for the project, immediately.

No way in hell were you going to submit a nude of your fucking roommate.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

There was a something wrong with your bed.

After you took your shower and changed into comfy pajamas, you noticed there was something wrong your bed. Well for one the fucking mattress was missing. You had called Jinu if he knew what happened but all he said was that he found a nest of spider eggs in it so the school confiscated it.

Unlucky for you the school were cheap stakes and it was gonna take a bit of time before you got a new mattress. Jinu had said you would be sharing with him but you didn’t necessarily think you could survive something like that.

Him pressed up against you.

Would it…

You pushed the thought away. Your eyes trailed off to your desk when you suddenly remembered the ruined notebook. You walked over and grabbed it from beneath one of your textbooks, seeing it in its fully ruined glory. There was no salvaging it at this point. You hoped Jinu didn’t care for this dumb thing.

But you were curious to see if you could read it fully now.

You slowly peeled it open and bristled at just how bad the damage was. Half of the pages were stuck together and when you tried to part it they tore. The pen he used to write it had smudged from the liquid so his handwriting was ineligible.

Right before you had given up to just toss it, you came across the last page, seeing a word you could understand. “Jagi.” Huh. Who was this babe of his? You tried to push away the slight bitterness in your throat the thought of that.

Of course he’d have a girlfriend. He was Kim fucking Jinu.

It’d be a shock if he didn’t.

You tossed the notebook into the trash can and made sure to put your food snacks on top of it just in case Jinu decided to accidentally look in there. If Jinu ever asked about his notebook, you’d pretend you never even seen him with a notebook before.

Now all you had to deal with was the problem of sleeping in the same bed with Jinu. You’d survive.

Hopefully.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You haven’t survived. It’s been two weeks and it felt as if you hadn’t slept in years. Jinu keeps two pillows between the both you while you slept but somehow the two of you always end up close. It wasn’t even a day ago when you woke up to yourself resting right on Jinu, your cheek pressed against his chest while your hand palmed his neck.

He had a big chest—you wished you had a little bit of a degenerative attitude to feel him up.

But you’d rather not be known as the perverted roommate.

“(Name)-Ah? Something wrong?” A hand gently rests on your shoulder as you glanced up to see Lee Minjae staring down at you. A cute grin pulled on your lips as you placed your pen down to grip one of his hands. You just liked touching him.

“Minnie Hyung! What are you doing in the art department?”

Minjae smirked, leaning down as your noses touch. “Can’t check in on my dongsaeng? Your classmates have been telling me that you’ve been cooped up in here. It’s not good for you to stare at the screen for this long.” You giggled, watching as he pulled away.

“Mhm. I’m okay, promise!” You could feel yourself acting cuter in Minjae’s presence. It wasn’t shocking. He always made you feel safe to act how you do behind closed doors. You could wear whatever you wanted around him without being judged.

A perfect, perfect hyung.

“Ah, Hyung, thank you for the coffee last time! I enjoyed it.”

Minjae hummed. “Coffee? I didn’t bring you coffee.”

“What? You didn’t? Then…” You pulled your lips into a pout as you thought about who would do something like that for you. It couldn’t be Yoona and Taeil. You weren’t close to anyone else.

“Ah, did my pretty dongsaeng finally get a secret admirer?” Minjae grinned, playfully pulling at your cheeks while you whined. The two of you began to giggle like little boys as you stared up at Minjae with a look of pure content.

You hoped you had Minjae with you forever.

A soft knock on the door caught your attention as you and Minjae glanced to the right to see who it was. The position you were in was almost of that of a couple. Your hand grasping Minjae’s as they rest on your shoulders. The previous nose rubbing and even just you looking up at him like he hung up the moon.

Were you two a couple?

❝ 타오른 이 감정은… ❞

Jinu was having a terrible day. First he had to entertain a few random teachers with something he didn’t even care to remember. Second he was bothered by some fourth years about a project they needed help on. And now, he had to deal with Cho Yoona and Im Taeil’s yapping about their favorite song while he walked to your classroom.

That song Yoona was playing just made him angrier. Insanity was the name of the song, at least that’s what she said. Jinu felt the same and thought if he had to see something else that pissed him off he’d die a slow death.

So of course he had to see you, his bunny, making fucking whore eyes to some random seonbae.

What the fuck?!

Jinu forced a tight grin and held up a bag filled with food. Food that was just for you but of course he can’t say that. Despite himself, he tried to keep an easy going and fun attitude when speaking to other people. Though he was wondering if he should forgo that for punting Lee Minjae into the sun.

That stupid pig.

You wouldn’t even look at Jinu, you haven’t been looking at him often these days. He knew it was because you were embarrassed about the sleeping arrangements. But it was the only way he believed you could get closer to him.

So what if he deliberately put a spider and other insects in your mattress in hopes they laid eggs and ruin it so then it would force you to sleep on the same bed with him?

You don’t understand any of his other hints or flirting attempts.

He needed results fast!

You were hopping away to any other dick that wasn’t his and he couldn’t have that.

This chase he was having with you was starting to make him insane. If he didn't have you beneath him soon he wouldn't survive another night with you. His whole plan about having you sleep on his bed honestly felt as if it was back firing on him. You were so cuddly when you slept, always finding a way to move over the pillow barrier.

He always pretended he was asleep when you woke up in a panic, always pulling away before he could truly saver your touch—your warmth.

He was truly going insane. All he could remember was the first time he ever saw you. But he couldn't think about it further when he felt Lee Minjae's hand pat him on the back. Jinu fought every muscle in his face to not immediately grimace at the other's touch.

"(Name)-Ah, Yoona, Taeil, I'll take my leave now. I don't wanna bother you guys any longer." Minjae leaned down towards you and Jinu felt his upper lip twitched as he watched the older with his stupid dyed blonde hair that looked fried and crispy nuzzle his nose against yours.

If that wasn't enough, Minjae wrapped his arms around your neck and held you close as he pressed a wet kiss on your cheek. You shrieked and struggled against his hold, trying to avoid the kiss. But you hardly put up a fight, all giggly and smiley. You looked so small in Minjae's arms, so pliant and easy to hold.

Jinu pulled at his sweatpants, coughing slightly. That seemed to catch Minjae's attention as he stopped his childish assault and gave (Name) a cheeky smirk. Yoona began cooing at how cute you and Minjae looked together.

You didn't. No way. Jinu fought the urge to pull Minjae away from you.

Taeil tilted his head, "Jinu Seonbae, are you okay? Your eyebrows are so furrowed. You might pop a blood vessel."

The others looked over at Jinu, Yoona and Minjae questioning if he was alright, you especially with a look of concern in your doe eyes.

Good.

Worry about him and him alone.

Pay attention to only him.

"It's nothing," Jinu said, puling out his signature lady killer smile. "I think I just need to eat something, I haven't had a proper lunch in ages." Yoona immediately swooned while Taeil rolled his eyes. Minjae seemed in deep though as he stared at Jinu, the fourth year tilting his head as if he was digging deep into Jinu's soul. Figuring him out with a just a look.

Minjae grinned. "Let your seonbae take you out, yeah?" He suddenly said, catching everyone's attention. "I know a place not too far from here that sells great tteokbokki."

Like I'd want to be caught dead with you... Jinu thought to himself but he simply hummed. "Sure, Seonbae. Bye, Yoona, Taeil..."

Jinu stared right at you as Minjae pulled away from you. Your eyes flickered over to Jinu and you offered him a tight smile, waving slightly. "See you, Jinu Seonbae."

"See you, (Name)." He whispered, mostly just happy you even looked him in the eye.

But his happiness was short lived when you looked at Minjae and offered him a cute smile. A smile that you’ve never gave him. "Bye, Minnie Hyung!"

Minnie Hyung?!

Jinu followed Minjae out of the classroom, curses swirling in his mind as he stared at the man beside him. Minjae chuckled after a moment or so and looked over at Jinu with a smirk. "Y'know, you can't blow my head off with just your stare. I didn't know you were into my (Name)-Ah."

His? Jinu was fine with being expelled at this point but Minjae suddenly stopped in his tracks. "Jinu-Ya," he placed his hand on Jinu's shoulder while Jinu wondered what gave the man the audacity to use such a title with him. "If you want (Name)-Ah, you have to take him. There's so many wolves that want him." He smirked knowingly, his finger tapping Jinu's shoulder.

Just as Jinu was about to speak, Minjae pressed his finger on his lips. What the fuck? "Listen to your hyung, Jinu-Ya. With someone so naive like (Name)-Ah, you just take him like you own him. Chase after him, there is a dead end soon."

With that, he pulled away and smirked. "Tell me how the chase goes. I've been waiting for someone to snatch up my dongsaeng."

Jinu just stood there blank faced in the middle of the hallway as Minjae walked away. Just what the fuck was that? He didn't even think too hard about it when he realized he didn't have to worry about you and Minjae. Phew, that stress was short lived.

But what did he mean by dead end?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You were going insane.

It felt you were being watched these days. You had finally finished your project, having going with another idea and completely abandoning the whole nude thing. But it still sat in your drafts, practically calling you everyday. Sometimes you'd go back...

You'd finish certain parts of it. His body fully detailed expect that dreaded crotch. His dick. You wouldn't dare make what you believed his dick to look like. There was still some sense of self respect deep inside you.

Just not strong enough to not pay attention when you were drawing something for fun. You had a art account that you posted on like once every month of gay art you drew. So you were creating the piece, feeling in the mood to do something with oral fixation.

Only for you to notice instead of the usual two same characters you stuck to, it was Jinu as the top. Which, fair, it wouldn't be too different from what you had literally done weeks ago.

No, the problem was the partner.

You drew yourself.

You fucking drew yourself.

The drawing felt so real compared to the others you've made. Drawing Jinu between your legs, holding you up, bending you over on the bed. Your shoulders rest on the bed while your legs curled into yourself. His mouth biting the flesh of your ass, his eyes staring right at you, the real you.

Of course you had to angle it this way. Fucking pervert.

You tried to salvage the drawing but each stroke on that cursed tablet just made the partner look more and more like you. Okay, you were desperate for sex at this point. It was too much. You pressed the delete button on the sketch and powered off the tablet.

"I'm going, Taeil. Don't stay too late."

With lighting speed, you rushed to your dorm, trying to ignore the growing boner in your pants. Why did you have to like someone like Jinu? Out of all the people at this stupid university. Even Minjae would've been better than Kim Jinu of all people. But you couldn't complain any further because when you stormed into your dorm, fucking Kim Jinu was there, sitting at his desk.

Jinu glanced over at you and grinned, taking off his glasses as he shut off his laptop. "You're back earlier than normal. Did you end up finishing quick?"

You numbly nodded. "Yes... I just need to sleep. My eyes hurt." You couldn't even look at him. His gaze followed you as you grabbed your pajamas. Wherever you stepped, eyes were right on you, watching you like a predator does his next prey.

Bunny and fox.

That's what you imagined him as.

A fox.

It felt so hard to breathe with him near.

Why did it feel like there was no escape?

❝ 지금 너를 미치도록 ❞

The soft sputtering of the fan filled the room as you laid there right awake on Jinu's bed, wondering why you couldn't sleep despite your tired eyes. Jinu was fast asleep, his back pressed your own back. You didn't know why the usual barrier wasn't here tonight but you couldn't care too much about it right now. Not with your growing boner.

You haven't masturbated in two weeks. It's not a shock that the stupid art from earlier was still affecting you like this. You wondered if you could just sneak into the bathroom and quickly jerk one off. Would he notice? Just as you made the decision to get up, strong arms suddenly wrapped around your waist. Your body stiffened as you felt Jinu snuggled against your back.

His face buried in your neck, his nose and bangs softly tickling you.

What...the...fuck?!

Your legs subconsciously clamped shut at him so close. Okay, you were fucking screwed. The thought of moving seemed impossible now with him so close. His grip was so strong that you didn't understand how someone asleep could have such strong coordination.

Despite being cuddled by your crush, your cock was more alive than ever, leaking against your pajama pants. You let out a stifled whimper as you reached down and gently rub the bottom of your palm against your bulge. The relief was almost instant as a guttural groan escaped you before you could stop yourself.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Were you really going to do this?

Yeah.

Yeah you were.

Soon the fan wasn't the only one making noise. Your soft and breathy moans filled the room as you jerked off. Your body flinched from the pressure causing your butt to rub against Jinu's front.

Wait.

He was... hard...?

A wave of fear washed over you as you stilled your hand. No, no. He must be having a wet dream or something. Yeah, he can't be awake hearing you. No. No way. You needed to reach your damned orgasm and just go to sleep. You'd deal with the shame in the morning. You finally decided to pull down your pajama pants to grasp your cock and not just rub it anymore.

You pumped your cock, making sure to still your body so you don't accidentally rub your bare ass against Jinu's clothed crotch. He'd hate that. No, he'd hate to learn what you're doing. Fuck. The shame was already affecting you. Stray tears fell down your cheeks as you bit down at your pillow, still chasing your orgasm despite the shame filling your lungs.

Embarrassment. This was so fucking embarrassing.

It was close-- your orgasm. Inches away, dancing on the tip of your fingers as your moans began to reach a crescendo. So much for muffling yourself. Your edge to your orgasm was wrecking you—sending you to a mental space you couldn't imagine in any other circumstance.

Was this how sex with someone you liked felt?

Could Jinu make you feel this way?

Was... him being here making you this way?

It wasn't enough. You wanted more. Your legs shifted as you subtly pulled your pants down, kicking them off without a care. You didn't have any lube but you had no time. The tease of ecstasy was whispering your name—calling you to go further. So you did. You suckled two of your fingers, getting them as wet as possible before slipping down between your legs.

The two seconds of pain as you pushed them inside did not deter you. You could deal with a little pain. It was rough. Your fingers rubbed against your inner walls, searching for those bundle of nerves to drive you wild. But it was difficult in this position. You usually masturbated on your back or while sitting up.

You wondered if you should go as far as to shift positions. That'd be too much, right?

The shame was finally catching up to you. You couldn't do this. This disgusting and degrading action towards both you and Jinu. Your eyes closed as you sighed, eyes fluttering shut. It was too much.

"You're done already, (Name)-Ah?"

A chill crept up your spine as those three words were whispered right into your ear. Your eyes widen but you couldn't move. It was as if his words just took out any sort of life within you. His arms around your waist tightens as you feel him nuzzle himself further on your neck.

Your breathing feels erratic. You can't breathe. It feels as if you'd die right here, right now.

You looked down to see his hands. They looked recently bruised from his usual boxing. But now they felt different. As if it was a show at just how durable his body was. His arms slowly began to tighten around you only to you let out a sharp cry at the pain, earning a pleased grunt.

"You're awake, yeah? Are you ignoring hyung?" He whispered, his lips trailed your neck, stopping right at the tip of your air. "You can masturbate right beside me but can't even answer me?"

A pathetic whine left your throat as you tried to wiggle from his grip but it proved to be futile. You gasped, arching your back as you felt Jinu rub his crotch right against your butt. He began to hump you ignoring your shocked gasp.

Was he...?

"So selfish, bunny. Chasing your own release. Not even thinking about what your moans were doing to me." His right hand trailed down and pushed you to lay on your front, his body following to lay on top.

You cried out, gripping the bedsheets like a life line. "You.. were awake...?"

"I never went to sleep." He said honestly, spanking you right on your ass. You squeaked, back arching to get away from another spank. "I never knew you would do something like this. I was beginning to think you hated me."

"I never—”

"—but you never listen to me, do you? I tell you everyday to call me hyung but you never let it stick. What, do I have to force you to say it?"

"We aren't close!" You whined, whimpering at another spank. Your lower hips wiggled but you didn't make any effort to truly push Jinu off of you. You didn't understand yourself sometimes.

"What? But you call Lee Minjae hyung without any problem." Jinu grunted, his hand reaching over to grab something from the slim nightstand next to the bed. You couldn't tell what he grabbed until something cool and slimy was drizzled onto your ass. A whine left you from the coldness. "What'd he do? Fuck you? Chase you like you so desperately want?"

"Nooo," you whined, screaming when he shoved in two fingers inside your hole. Your hands dug into the bedsheets as he thrusted his fingers in and out, a constant rhythm with no sign of stopping despite your pleas for him to slow down.

Jinu chuckled, leaning down as he used his free hand to push your hair away from your face. "You act so innocent but you want this. I'll show you that I'm the only one for you. No other man can chase you like I can."

"What... ngh!!! are you talking... about..?" You manage to ask, wishing you could silence yourself. Your neighbors will certainly be having a long talk with you and Jinu tomorrow.

"Oh, bunny. My bunny, you really are so naive." Jinu whispered, pressing a kiss on your cheek. "You don't even know what you crave. It's okay, hyung will take care of you now. You won't ever have to think again."

Your body began to spasm as you felt a finger graze that bundle you tried to reach earlier. Jinu stilled for a moment, a look of slight worry in his eyes before he noticed what had just happened. A cruel smirk pulled on his eyes formed those crescent moons you once associated with his innocence.

But it didn't bring any sort of serenity to your body.

You were flipped onto your back with ease as Jinu grabbed your thighs and pushed them forward, effectively blocking your view from him. Desperate and pained moans left your lips as he continued to finger you, fingers gunning consistently at your prostate.

A loud scream left your throat as your back arched against the bed, your cock finally releasing the weeks long pent up lust you've stored for awhile now. Your stomach slowly rose and fall, coated in your sticky cum. All you could think about was your orgasm back in the classroom.

You were right.

Jinu made you cum harder than you could ever do by yourself.

You expected him to pull away but instead you felt a tug on your cock. A whine of overstimulation left your throat as you parted your legs and looked at him with wide doe eyes, confusion written all over your face.

A cruel smirk pulled on his lips as he tilted his head. "I've wanted you since I first saw you. You really think I'll let our first time be so lackluster?"

Lackluster?

He thought that was lackluster?

A pained cry left your lips as he began to thrust his fingers inside once more, leaving no sympathy as he immediately went for your prostate. You were going to die. You were going to die being fingered by your roommate. Kim Jinu was going to be the death of you.

It didn't take long for you to cum again and again, your fifth orgasm not even releasing anything. Your body twitched as your eyes watered, tears streaming down your face from the constant overstimulation. You weakly pulled your legs away from Jinu's grip after your fifth orgasm, muttering something about dying from his touch.

Jinu chuckled, allowing you to pull away. "Ah, Jagi," he whispered, causing you to blush at the title. To use such a term for you... You shamelessly felt your spent cock twitch. No, no, no! You absolutely couldn't do anymore. "You're so cute. I wanted to wait but I can't. You'll forgive me, right?"

You watched with wide eyes as he grabbed your waist and pulled you down towards him, earning a shriek from you. Your legs moved up to hide your aching and loosened hole but he was quick, spreading them wide. His eyes were like a predator, watching your every move as you tried pulling down your shirt to cover your weeping cock.

"Seon—Hyung... No more... No more, please." You whispered, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

Jinu's gaze narrowed in on your face. You could see him think. Your body was aching and praying Jinu did what you asked. But your heart....

Your heart wanted him to take you without a second thought.

"Hm. No." Jinu laughed cruelly, flipping you to rest on your knees. You cried out at the sudden movement but could only whimper as he pushed your back down, lifting up your hips. Your face pushed into the bed while your thoughts rushed at the position. It felt so humaliting to have sex without looking him the eye. You felt like an object. A prize he just won.

Your dick twitched.

So much for self respect.

"Hyung's gonna take good care of you." Jinu whispered, spreading your ass apart as he rubbed his cock between the cheeks. "You'll be good for hyung, mhm? No more seonbae."

You only whined, wiggling your hips, your ass rubbing Jinu's cock.

Jinu teasingly slapped your ass. "You complain about it being too much... But look at you now, begging for my cock. I should just stop listening to what you say and take what I want. Would you stop me, (Name)-Ah? Would you run away?"

Run away?

Run away from the man you've had wet dreams about since you came to this damn university?

"Mhm. I'll run..." You whispered, a strangled moan leaving you as he began to push his cock inside of you. The stretch was difficult and you briefly wondered if this was how you'd die.

Heart attack from a thick cock.

Despite your answer, Jinu hummed. "Good. I'll chase you until you're beneath me, shaking in fear as I take you." His hands gripped your waist as he slammed the rest of his cock inside, earning a gargled cry and scream from you.

Jinu was anything but sweet. Fucking you like a beast as you withered and cried from the constant pressure against your prostate. After this, you weren't sure you'd have sex again. This could be enough for a life time.

"Sorry, (Name)-Ah. I can't last long." Jinu suddenly grunted, pulling out. You whined at the lost but didn't have to mourn it for long as he pulled you onto his lap, making you face him. Your arms subconsiously wrapped around his neck as he easily slid back into your tight heat, gripping your thighs as he bounced you on his cock.

Jinu smirked, his eyes trained right on you. "You look so pretty when you cry." He said, pressing soft kisses on your neck. "Next time, you'll be crying from just my cock. I'll make you scream my name."

You whimpered, arching your back as you pulled him closer, another dry orgasm creeping on you. You'd be sleeping well for nights to come. Jinu grunted as he began to thrust upwards into you in tandem with bouncing you up and down, causing you to cry at the sudden pressure. You were close. So close.

A sharp feeling in your shoulder caused you to spasm as Jinu's thrusts became desperate. It took you a moment to even think about what just happened--so focused on Jinu's cock stretching you out. Until you noticed red dripping down your right shoulder.

He bit you.

The delayed reaction to the bite made you scream out, tears streaming down your face you reached your six orgasm of the night. You went limp in his arms, just letting him chase his own orgasm. Teeth sharp enough to break skin wasn't something you ever imagined Jinu could do. But there it was, a rare and sore bite on your right shoulder. Blood slowly trickling down to your chest.

Jinu finally reached his orgasm after a minute or so, holding you close as he cummed deep inside. You shuddered, feeling his cum coat your sore tight heat. He didn't wear a condom. If you weren't fucked dumb you would've yelled at him about it but all you could do was hum as he pressed soft kisses against your wet and sweaty skin.

You glanced down and noticed blood coating the bottom of Jinu's lip as he pulled away from you.

He did end up coating you in red and white.

But your blood was the lipstick. You couldn't help but laugh at your cringy thought, groaning as Jinu pulled his cock out.

"You did so good, (Name)-Ah." Jinu whispered, kissing you on the lips. You tried to return the kiss but could only purse your lips against his.

Your breathing was harsh and quick, your body battered from Jinu's claiming.

This wasn't normal. Wasn't conventional at all. You were sure that if you told Yoona and Taeil about this they'd be worried for your safety.

You were prey to Jinu

But you were okay with that.

❝ 숨을 쉴 수 없게 아프면서 황홀하잖아 ❞

"You're going to roommate with a first year? Wow, good luck!"

"I didn't know they could do that."

"No one would willingly room with a first year. They're the worst."

"Aw, c'mon, Oppa! They're usually just nervous."

"Well, our Kim Jinu will have no problem. Who doesn't love him?"

"Ah, true. Good luck, Jinu!"

Kim Jinu pulled out his keys, unlocking the door to his new home for the rest of the school year. He'd be the one to get unlucky for his previously planned roommate to drop out of school—leaving his room open for a late transfer freshman. He didn't want to deal with first years, they were annoying.

He opened the door, shocked to see the room already having someone by one of the beds. The first year was knelt beside the bed, looking through the suitcase that was filled to the brim with clothes. Clothing that looked more feminine than anything but Jinu didn't judge.

He forced his usual carefree smile, ready to greet his new roommate when you finally turned around. His breathing stopped—his smile dropping at the sight of you. You... You were different from anything he imagined.

Your look of innocence. Your body suddenly becoming fidegty the longer he stared at you without saying a word. Your sweater drooping on your shoulder, showing off your bare shoulder. Your skin looked so soft, so plain. It needed something on it.

It looked too bare.

"I'm... Kim Jinu. Who are you?"

"Park (Name)." You whispered, your eyes flickering up and down his body.

Love at first sight wasn't real to Jinu. He wouldn't lie and say he felt love towards you when he first saw you.

He felt lust.

An urge to completely ruin you.

And by the look in your eyes, the not so subtle glances at his lower half of his body. You looked to be such an easy catch.

"Stop looking at me like that." You suddenly said, your lips turning into a slight snarl but it hardly held any weight. Jinu couldn't help but tilt his head. He could tell you wanted him but you were holding back?

Actively pushing him away as if you didn't look at him with the same lust he felt. Running away?

Like a game of cat and mouse.

No...

Fox and Bunny.

He was going to devour you.

Even if he had to chase you.

❝ 네게 빠진 순간 더는 결백하지 않은 나 ❞

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

WOW!!! Gosh, this was way longer than it needed to be. I wanted to try something new lmao. Doubt i'd do it again, i was listening to kpop while writing this so it kinda just happened. Translations at the bottom! Yes, i did it for a reason, made it more fun if you didn't know what he was saying. Red is lyrics, pink are jinu’s words

I might make him an oc, i put too much effort into him for it to be a one time thing, smh... primal play is so fun.

tag list: @iwishtobeacrow @flurrina @chill-guy-but-cooler @mello-life25 @the-ultimate-librarian @kiiyoooo @ofclyde @love-kha1 @star-3214 @mooncarvers-world @smellwell @tehyunnie @remdayz @rhetorical-conscience @tomoeroi

Translations:

❝ 벗어날 수 없는 걸 ❞ — I can’t escape

❝ 온통 너로 물들여질 테니… ❞ — everything will be colored with you

❝ 날 놀리는 거야, 예쁜 자기야. ❞ — you’re teasing me, pretty baby

❝ 무방비 토끼. 내가 너를 먹어치울게 ❞ — defenseless bunny. I’ll eat you up

❝ 도망기면 쫓이갈거야, 토끼야… ❞ — if you run away, I’ll chase you , bunny

❝ 타오른 이 감정은… ❞ — this burning feeling

❝ 지금 너를 미치도록 ❞ — i'm driving you crazy right now

❝ 숨을 쉴 수 없게 아프면서 황홀하잖아 ❞ — it hurts so much that i can't breathe, but it's ecstatic

❝ 네게 빠진 순간 더는 결백하지 않은 나 ❞ — the moment i fell for you, i was no longer innocent

Songs used: Insanity - The Boyz & Criminal - Taemin

[grimeshound]

UNDER YOUR SPELL.

masterlist.

word count: 4,329 (someone got a little carried away...)

pairing: in-ho x you.

summary: you haunt in-ho’s every thought, an obsession he can’t shake no matter how hard he tries—you have no idea the hold you have on him. when you get drunk for the first time, in-ho seizes the opportunity to show you just how deeply you’ve affected him.

cw: 18+, age-gap, dubcon (forced intoxication), mirror sex, first time, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, stomach bulge, semi-public sex, dirty talk, corruption, manipulation

a/n: i’ve had this plot simmering in my head over the past few days ever since i wrote my in-ho hcs and it was practically begging to be written … manipulative in-ho my beloved

title from ‘under your spell’ by snow strippers, everytime I see an edit to him with this song it always eats so hard

---

Ever since he first laid eyes on you, In-ho thought you were the prettiest little angel to ever step foot in this hellhole.

You were nothing like the others. Kind, wide doe eyes, sweet smile that radiated innocence. He wondered how a pretty thing like you had ended up in a place like this. In-ho always did pride himself in his appreciation for the arts, all things with beauty. The moment he took notice of you, it didn’t take long for him to wonder what it would take to make you his.

You had joined a small group, after having met a kind man named Jung-bae who graciously let you in. Everyone shared their names, and that’s when you learned his. Oh Young-il. Except, of course, that wasn’t his real name. Just a guise, a character to play during the time he spent amongst the players. That didn’t matter, though, since you rarely used his name. 

“Sir,” you’d say. The times you did call his name, it’d be “Mister Young-il.”

The first time you spoke to him, you were nervous. It was hard not to be, something about his piercing gaze had a hold on you. Yet, you couldn’t help but admire him. The way you looked up at him, your voice so soft and deferential, made his pulse quicken. He’d do anything to protect you, and he did. Each time the games forced you apart, you’d come running to him the moment you returned to the main hall, your face lighting up with relief.

“I’m so happy you’re okay, sir.” You’d smile at him, and he’d smile back, gentle and reassuring.

You hadn’t realized it, but your attachment to him was carefully orchestrated, a product of all the high-risk situations In-ho would engineer to put you through. He’d swoop in at the perfect moment to save you, it made you trust him, made you depend on him more than anyone else. It also nurtured the little crush you were already dewasveloping, and he noticed. You couldn’t help it. He  kind to you, protective, and so devastatingly handsome.

Behind the scenes, he dug through your file. Orphaned from a young age, too naive to understand the world’s cruelties. Trusting the wrong people, you had fallen into debt, landing here. The more he learned, the more he was convinced—You needed someone to take care of you. Someone like him.

One night, In-ho just couldn’t take it anymore. After hours of keeping up his cold, calculated facade, he found himself teetering on the edge of his own sanity. The stress of orchestrating the games was always a burden he bore in silence. But lately? It wasn’t just the carnage and strategy that weighed on his mind. On top of all that, now there was you. Every stolen glance, every soft word you uttered, every moment in your presence had burrowed under his skin. You consumed him, invading every thought until there was no room for anything else.

He knew he was losing control.

When the last murmurs of conversation faded throughout the main hall and the players around him drifted into an uneasy sleep, he finally gave in to his impulses. He had a guard sneak him a bottle of soju, not caring how inappropriate or risky the request was. Rank had its privileges, and he wasn’t above abusing them.

Even in the dim light he spotted you, laid in your bed not too far from his own. All curled up and completely unaware of the monster disguised as your guardian angel watching over you. He swallowed thickly, his jaw clenching as he tried to steady his breathing. 

He listened to the sound of your breathing as a guide, the quiet rhythm of inhale and exhale filling his ears before finally pulling the bottle from its hiding place beneath his pillow. With a sharp twist, he uncapped it, the faint scent of alcohol wafting into the air around him. Sitting up in his bunk, he took a long, deliberate swig. The burn of the soju as it slid down his throat was a welcome distraction, albeit temporary. He exhaled, running a hand through his disheveled hair.  

The alcohol dulled the edges of his stress but sharpened something far more dangerous, far sicker. Desire. Thoughts of you came to surface before he could resist, vivid and unrelenting. He thought of your wide, trusting eyes looking up at him, the way your voice wavered when you spoke his name. He didn’t stop his thoughts when they turned more and more depraved. Your quiet utters of his name turning into obscene moans, innocent brushes of skin escalating into him fucking you like a madman into the crummy bed he sat beneath. The way you clung to him, so innocent, so naive, so completely unaware of just how sick his thoughts would turn because of you. 

He took another long swig, his grip tightening around the bottle as his frustration intensified. How could you do this to him without even realizing? Without even trying? It was maddening, the hold you had over him. And now, with the liquor loosening his usually taut held control, he found himself wondering how much longer he could resist. How much longer he could keep his hands to himself.

And then, as if summoned by his desires, your voice broke the silence.

“Sir?”

He turned to see you turned towards him, rubbing your eyes like a sleepy child. He softened instantly, smiling lazily as he called your name. “You’re awake?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” You climbed up to his bed without hesitation, settling beside him. “What about you?” 

“Me neither,” he murmured. He thanked whatever god there was that you couldn’t read his mind, couldn’t take a peek into the sick fantasies that had clouded up his thoughts just moments ago. Even now, when sat face to face with you, they played in the background— like a channel he couldn’t turn off no matter how hard he’d press the remote. Only, he didn’t make much effort in stopping them. If anything, the fantasies only shot up with you now in front of him. 

Your attention was soon drawn to the green bottle in his hand. “Is that… soju?”

He chuckled at your amazement. “It is.”

“Wow,” you breathed. “I’ve never had any before.”

His heart skipped. You really were too good to be true, weren’t you? He feigned surprise. “Never?”

You shook your head. “No. But..” You hesitated for a bit. “I’d like to try, if that’s okay.”

How polite. How trusting. He handed the bottle to you, hiding his smirk beneath a kind, patient smile. “Of course. Go ahead.”

You took it with both hands, your fingers brushing his briefly. There was a moment of hesitation, a fleeting glance at him as though you were silently asking for reassurance. He gave you a small nod, his expression warm and encouraging. Uttey deceptive. The thought of getting you completely wasted, rendering you impossibly dumber and even more impressionable than you already are rang like music to his ears. You tilted your head back as you gulped down more than he expected. He didn’t stop you, though. Simply watching with quiet satisfaction as you drained a sizable amount.

The first sip had your nose scrunching up, the bitter taste of the alcohol overhwleming you. Instead of backing out, you pressed on, curiosity and his approving gaze egging you on. With each gulp, you felt your body tense slightly at the unaccustomed burn that slid down your throat.

In-ho watched you intently, his dark eyes locked on you as the bottle tipped higher and higher. You were drinking far more than he expected, but he made no effort to stop you. Instead, he leaned back slightly, his lips quirking into a faint smile. Quiet satisfaction flickered in his eyes as he watched your determination to please him override your inexperience.

When you finally lowered the bottle, your lips were shiny from the liquid, your cheeks already beginning to flush, something In-ho was quick to take notice of. Whether it be your inexperience, the quickness of which you downed the Soju or the fact that you haven’t really drank or ate much prior. The alcohol had hit you harder than you anticipated, working its way through your system with worrying speed. Your head tilted back slightly as you tried to regain focus, blinking up at him with worried, glassy eyes. 

“Sir,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “I feel…so funny.”

He stepped closer, his hand moving to steady you by your waist when your knees buckled slightly. “Funny how, sweetheart?” he humored you, the concern in his tone carefully crafted.

“Dizzy,” You clung to him instinctively, your hands gripping his arm like a lifeline as you specified. “I feel lightheaded, mister Young-il. M’scared.”

“Shh,” he murmured, pulling you closer against his chest. His hand slid to your back, rubbing soothing circles as he held you steady. “It’s okay. You’re just not used to it, s’all.”

Your forehead rested against his chest, your breath uneven as you tried to make sense of the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. He tilted his head slightly, looking down at you with something twisted in his gaze, though his voice remained tender and reassuring. “Poor baby,” he murmured, pulling you into his arms. His hand stroked your hair, the sound of his words soothing you. “I’ve got you. I’ll take care of you.”

You were too drunk to notice the dark glint in his eyes or the way his smile lingered just a little too long. Too naive to realize how tightly his grip held you, as though he’d never let go.

Young-il led you to the bathroom, steadying you with a firm grip as you clung to him for balance. Every touch, every reassuring glance he gave you was planned down to the last detail, feeding into the web he’d been weaving since the moment he first laid eyes on you. You were his perfect little pawn, and now, more than ever, he could see his plan falling into place. 

When he knocked on the bathroom door, you were already bracing yourself for the usual bargaining and desperate pleading that so often accompanied requests to use the facilities. But to your surprise, the guards let you both pass without hesitation, a testament to the sway your knight in shining armor seemed to hold.

He guided you inside, shutting the door behind you with a quiet click. Leading you to the sink, he turned on the faucet, letting the cool water rush out. “Here,” he said softly, his voice calm and soothing. “Let’s wash your face. It’ll help.”

You nodded, leaning over the sink and splashing the water onto your flushed cheeks. The cold sting sent a brief jolt through you, though it did little to clear the fog in your mind. When you blinked your eyes open and straightened, you nearly jumped at the sight of him standing right behind you, close enough that you could feel his presence like a weight against your back.

Your wide-eyed gaze flicked up to the mirror. He stood there, his expression as unreadable as ever, but the intensity in his eyes made your stomach twist. Despite yourself, you wiped your face with your sleeve and offered him a sheepish smile.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked, stepping closer. His hand brushed your damp hair back from your face, the gesture tender in a way that made your breath hitch.

“Good,” you mumbled, though the truth was far from it. The alcohol swirled in your system, leaving you dizzier than before. But the way he touched you, the way he looked at you, it sent a warmth through your chest that was impossible to ignore.

“Yeah?” he hummed, his tone low and velvety, each syllable wrapping around you like a shackle. You hadn’t even noticed how close he’d gotten until now, his chest pressing lightly against your back.

Your breath hitched as something firm brushed against you from behind, and you let out a small, involuntary whimper. “Sir Young-il…?”

“In-ho,” he rasped, cutting you off. “My real name, it’s In-ho.” His voice had dropped even lower, and there was something raw and possessive in the way he said it. You blinked, confused, his real name rolling off your tongue before you could even think twice to question him.

“In-ho,” you repeated softly, as if testing the weight of it. “What’s going on?”

His lips curved into a faint smile, his hands settling firmly on your waist. “Don’t worry, baby,” he whispered, his eyes meeting yours through the mirror. “I’ll take good care of you. You trust me, don’t you?”

You nodded too quickly, too eagerly, the alcohol and your long-brewing crush on him clouding your better judgment. “I trust you,” you slurred, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his grip tightening slightly as he trailed his fingers along your waist, his touch deliberate and possessive.

He leaned in, closing the already small gap between you two as his lips found yours in a kiss—the first one you’d ever shared. Admittedly, it wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined it to unfold. You pictured your first kiss with a high school crush, maybe some boy your age who’d take you out on an innocent date. But all those dreams faded the moment you met In-ho, and now, all dreams you had were consumed by him.

You pressed against him, letting him take control as his kiss deepened, hungry and intense, like a man starved for more. You followed his lead instinctively, trusting him—because you always knew, deep down, he knew what was best. So when he raised his fingers to your lips, you hesitated for only a moment before parting them, allowing him to slip two fingers inside. His dark eyes gleamed as you sucked obediently, your cheeks flushing deeper under his watchful gaze. A low, guttural sound escaped his throat, and his breathing grew heavier.

Pulling his fingers away, he wasted no time in hooking them into the waistband of your sweatpants, tugging them down in one hasty motion. His lips found the curve of your jaw, trailing kisses up to your ear as his right hand skimmed the sensitive skin of your neck.

You grabbed his wrist suddenly, your touch light and hesitant. “Wait, In-ho—” you murmured, your voice trembling with embarrassment. His dark eyes met yours in the mirror, his expression softening ever so slightly.

“I… I’ve never done anything like this before,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He wasn’t surprised; he had suspected as much. But hearing it from you, seeing the vulnerability in your gaze—only stoked the fire burning within him.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice deceptively gentle, though there was an unmistakable tension in his tone.

You shook your head quickly, biting your lip. “I trust you. Just… be gentle. Please.” 

He smiled at that, a flicker of something darker hidden beneath the curve of his lips. “Of course,” he murmured, his hands resuming their slow exploration. But in his mind, he knew the truth: restraint was never his strong suit. Especially when it came to you. 

And with you—so soft, so eager, so completely his, he doubted he could hold himself back for long.

His fingers, still slick with your saliva, trailed down to your entrance, brushing over it with deliberate precision. The touch made you jolt, a shiver running up your spine as you gasped. In-ho groaned low in his throat, his eyes fixed on your reflection in the mirror. “Fucking dripping,” he mused, his voice a sinful rasp. Slowly, he slid a finger inside, the intrusion making your thighs instinctively part.

A soft moan escaped your lips as he pressed deeper, his touch firm but unhurried. This wasn’t the first time you’d felt something like this, but the last time had been your own doing—fumbling, desperate, and entirely unremarkable. That had been just days ago, tucked away in one of these very bathroom stalls, shamefully thinking of him. Now, with his hands where yours had been, the stark difference had you feeling light-headed. 

His fingers were thicker, rougher, impossibly skilled. The sensation left you trembling, your legs threatening to give out as he worked you open. His other arm snaked around your upper chest, holding you close, his grip firm yet possessive. The position bordered on a chokehold, but instead of fear, it only sent another wave of heat coursing through you.

Your breath hitched as a soft, broken “Ohmygod,” fell from your lips. He didn’t pause, didn’t falter. His finger curled just right, hitting a spot that made you see stars. Your hands gripped on In-ho’s forearm, knuckles white as you bit down hard on your lower lip, trying and failing to stifle your moans.

“You okay, sweetheart?” His voice was like velvet, roughened by desire. He pressed a kiss into the crook of your neck. His other hand released its hold on your chest as it moved lower, settling on the curve of your ass. He squeezed firmly, eliciting a high-pitched mewl from you.

You nodded weakly, barely able to form words. “Uh-huh… feels so good, sir,”

That made him chuckle, a deep, dark sound that reverberated through your body. The honorific sent a thrill down his spine, his cock straining against the confines of his sweatpants.

“You’re ready,” he murmured, almost to himself, as he pulled back just enough to tug his waistband down. You glanced over your shoulder, eyes wide as you took him in, the sight was intimidating, your head reeling. 

"In-ho, I–I don’t think I can take that." Your voice faltered, a hint of shame creeping into your words. He laughed, a sound so familiar it sent a chill down your spine. It was the kind of hearty laugh you'd grown so used to hearing from him. But now, there was something different—something darker layered beneath it, like a cruel mockery. "Course you can, angel," he said, his tone smooth but laced with an unsettling edge. "I know you can. Let me take care of you."

“H-Here? Like this?” you asked, your voice small and unsure, referring to the state he had you in—bent over the sink and in front of the mirror. utterly at his mercy.

He leaned in, his hand gripping your chin and forcing your gaze back at your reflection. “Right here,” he confirmed, his voice a low growl. Want you to watch yourself while I’m fucking you open.”

The vulgarity of his words sent a shiver through you, your body instinctively arching for him. You nodded, too dazed and drunk to do anything else, and he didn’t waste another second.

He slid inside slowly, the stretch making you cry out and grip the sink tighter. The initial sting was sharp, but it quickly gave way to something deeper, something so intense it left you gasping. Your legs wobbled beneath you, and you leaned harder against the sink for support.

“In-ho… In-ho,” you whimpered, his name falling from your lips like a chant. “Sir… I— I feel you in my stomach.”

The confession had him groaning, a sound so guttural it made your knees weak. “Yeah? Fuck, baby.” He babbled as he moved closer, his body pressing against yours as his hand trailed down with deliberate slowness. When his palm flattened against your stomach, his fingers brushing over the faint outline of him inside you, your breath hitched. 

“Feel that?” he murmured, his composure slipping as he began to move. His hips snapped against yours, each thrust deliberate and punishing. You nodded frantically, a whimper escaping as he pressed down, sending a shockwave through your body. “In-ho, nngh!—“ 

You were completely out of it, your thoughts a tangled haze, your body slack and pliant in his hands. The alcohol coursing through your veins had stripped away every layer of hesitation, leaving you wide open to his manipulations. And In-ho, oh, he reveled in it. The way your voice slurred when you called his name, the way your movements were unsteady, dependent on him for every step and touch—it all fueled his sick delight. You were better than he could’ve ever imagined. 

As he pulled you closer, pressing into you from behind, your gaze flicked to the bathroom door, a flicker of worry breaking through your drunken stupor. “In-ho…” you mewled, voice soft as you felt your body jerk with each rough thrust he made.. “What if–ah!—someone walks in?”

He paused, his hands resting possessively on your hips, a smile ghosting across his lips. “Don’t worry about that,” he said, his voice low and soothing, though there was an unmistakable edge of amusement in his tone. “The guards won’t come.” His confidence sent a shiver through you, but you weren’t entirely convinced. “But… but what if another player—”

“No one’s going to interrupt us,” he said firmly, his dark eyes boring into yours before you could finish your sentence. His fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze in the mirror. “You’re with me. They wouldn’t dare.”

Something about the absolute certainty, the power in his voice—had your anxiety ebbing away, replaced by a strange sense of safety. You nodded slowly, leaning into his touch, your inhibitions melting once again under his spell.

“You trust me, don’t you, sweetheart?” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear.

“Mmhm,” You squeaked out through laboured breaths. 

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, his hands sliding down to grip your waist, pulling you back against him. He watched your reflection as his fingers dug into your soft flesh, relishing the way you gasped and arched into his touch.

Your head lolled slightly, your body swaying under his hold. “Mmmh…I feel so dizzy,” you slurred, your voice barely above a whisper.

In-ho chuckled darkly, his hands moving to steady you. “That’s just the soju, sweetheart,” he said, though he didn’t bother hiding the smirk on his face. “You’re doing so well for me.”

He loved seeing you like this. Drunk, vulnerable, completely at his mercy. Every soft whimper, every stumble, every little movement that showed how completely you relied on him only fueled his desire. You were his, whether you realized it or not.

As his fingers grazed your skin, he couldn’t resist pushing you further, testing your reactions as he pushed your buttons. “You know,” he murmured, his lips ghosting along the curve of your neck, “Y’look so pretty like this. All fucked out and needy. Just for me.”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, pressed against him. “Y-you think so?”

“I know so,” he replied, his voice a velvety purr. His hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming. “Just look at yourself, baby. See how perfect you are for me?”

Your hazy eyes flicked to the mirror, taking in the sight of the two of you. His dark, piercing gaze met yours, his expression raw and predatory. The way he looked at you—it was almost too much. Your cheeks burned, and you averted your eyes, biting your lip.

He wasn’t having that. His hand left your waist, fingers gently gripping your chin and turning your face back toward the mirror. “No,” he said firmly. “I want you to watch. Watch yourself while I take care of you.”

The authority in his voice sent a thrill through you, your body trembling as you nodded weakly. “O-okay—ah, fuck!”

“Atta girl,” he chuckled, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.

As his hands roamed lower, teasing and exploring, you couldn’t help the soft, breathless moans that spilled from your lips. Every touch, every word, every look from him pulled you deeper into the fog of your drunken desire, leaving you utterly helpless in his grasp.

And In-ho? He wouldn’t have it any other way.

The room filled with the lewd sounds of skin meeting skin, your muffled cries, and his filthy murmurs. “Thaat’s it, there’s my pretty girl.” His hand tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back, his lips brushing against your ear. “Fucking take it. Just like that.”

Every thrust sent you higher, the alcohol in your system amplifying every sensation, every nerve alight with pleasure. Your mind was fogged, the world around you turning into nothing but a senseless blur. And yet, you felt every little sensation In-ho fed you, each rough snap of his hips driving you closer and closer to the edge.

You felt your climax building, overwhelming and unstoppable. Your eyes fluttered shut, ready to let go—but his hand suddenly cupped your cheek, a sharp slap bringing you back.

“I told you,” he growled, his voice authoritative. “None of that. You keep your eyes on me when I fill you up. Understand?”

You nodded frantically, gasping as you forced your eyes open, meeting his gaze once again through the mirror—the sight was enough to send you over the edge. Your release hit you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing as you cried out his name.

The sight of you coming undone beneath him was his undoing. With a few more erratic thrusts, he followed, his hips stuttering as he spilled inside you. A deep groan tore from his chest, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he rode out his high.

The room fell into silence, save for the sound of your labored breathing. In-ho steadied you, his hands gentle now as he helped you stand. He brushed your hair back, pressing soft kisses to your temple.

“If we get out of here alive…” A sheepish smile spread across your face, “Let’s drink again sometime?”

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “When we get out,” he corrected, his tone laced with quiet determination. He kissed you once more, sealing the promise. And he meant it. If it meant keeping you by his side, he’d kill every last player in the game with his bare hands.