#in my eyes: they are both non partnering ^_^! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cumironi · 13 days ago

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BLESSED BY THY CLEAVAGE, AMENNN ᵎᵎ

feat. geto suguru, shoko ieiri

sum. “daddy got them for me yesterday.” you said. and daddy you mean is geto suguru and shoko is your friend. and friendship so fucked up you let her sit on your face while geto got his dick inside you. it is the power of your tit$? maybe..

wn. non-sorcerer au, college setting, geto is a mess, reader is shameless, tits are a weapon, pu$$y-drunk geto, shoko is hot and mean, worship-level oral (reader receiving), face-sitting, titfucking, deepthroating implied, unprotected vaginal $ex, internal ejaculation, cumplay (leaking, smearing), overstimulation, reader squirts (multiple times), finger $ucking, nipple play, cum on tits, aftercare / caretaking, slowburn smut, power dynamics (passive reader / active partners), possessive geto, bratty reader, filthy dirty talk, praise kink, mild degradation, shoko joining mid-act, threesome dynamic (ffm), oral fixation, reader is overstimmed and praised for it, physical restraint (holding reader down), swearing / explicit language.

a/n. let’s be real, i think both of them like girls with big tits.

geto’s apartment was the kind of place that looked cleaner in the dark. it was one of those college-boy hovels that had clearly been nice once, or maybe it was just expensive, which was not the same thing. the lights were warm but shitty, one too-yellow bulb flickering like it owed rent. outside, the sky was a bruised sort of purple, summer clinging to the air like spit, like the whole world had been licked and left to ferment. a sliding balcony door was cracked open to let in the sticky summer air, but mostly just let in moths and city noise. there were half-empty mugs on the table, a bong under the couch.

when you get there, the door was already unlocked because geto thought locks were fascist, or maybe he just liked tempting fate. either way, it creaked open with the familiar little ghost-sigh of a hinge that hadn’t been oiled since second year. the first thing you saw wasn’t geto.

it was shoko, half-draped across the floor like roadkill, holding a lit cigarette above her face while she let ash fall dangerously close to her bare stomach, and she had one boot up on the coffee table. the tank top she wore was black and paper-thin, no bra, naturally, her shorts undone like she'd given up halfway through peeing. she tilted her head toward you like an owl on ketamine.

“about time,” she said without looking at you, exhaling a lazy spiral of smoke that drifted straight toward the ceiling fan. “was starting to think you choked on your own tits walking here. and what the fuck are those.”

the loud clack of your boots on the hardwood echoing like you were making a goddamn entrance. which, to be fair—you were. your tank top wasn’t even that low-cut. okay. it kind of was. maybe a little slinky. maybe a little too tight, the kind of tight that rode up when you breathed, and you had to tug it down with a crooked hand and pretend not to notice. your skirt wasn’t helping either—barely longer than a wide belt, paired with boots too heavy for the season, but fuck it, you looked hot. like dumb hot. like, failed-a-midterm-and-still-smirking hot.

“shoko,” you said, stepping into the thick warm air of geto’s living room, “is that any way to greet a friend? and they’re boots,” you said, posing just enough to make them creak a little. leather, knee-high, chunky heel. dangerous. like if a stripper got possessed by a demon and still made rent.

“friend?” she snorted. “you show up to suguru’s place dressed like that and call it friendship?”

“maybe i just like the ambiance.” you dropped your bag by the floor next to the bong. “and talk about your boots,” shoko said, dragging smoke into her lungs like it owed her something, eyeing the expensive material. “what are they doing in my eyes.”

you didn’t even take them off. you walked around like you owned the fucking place, clomp clomp, tits bouncing with the rhythm of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing and didn't care if she gave someone a cardiac episode. you stood over shoko like you were presenting a thesis. “daddy got them for me yesterday.”

she stared up at you. blinked. blinked again.

“…you’re gonna have to specify which daddy.”

“the one who’s not your sugar daddy yet,” you grinned, toeing at her thigh gently with your boot like you were about to step on her for fun. “suguru.”

“jesus christ.” shoko rolled away from your leg, smoke curling behind her. “suguru! your bimbo just tracked hell into your apartment!”

“they’re not shoes,” you shouted toward the kitchen. “they’re boots! it’s different!”

geto’s voice filtered through the apartment, hoarse and half-laughing. “they’re still from outside, babe.”

you turned to the kitchen archway with your hands on your hips, tits practically launching a coup from your neckline. “they’re not dirty! they’re special! they match my tits!”

a pause.

then, “…what the fuck does that mean,” shoko said, sitting up.

“they’re both dangerous,” you declared, and then promptly posed like you were in a perfume ad designed by perverts. you even did the little bounce. the one that made your chest jiggle in that perfect, slow-motion, anime-opening kind of way. “anyway, this place smells like feet and bad decisions.”

“you forgot dick,” came geto’s voice from the kitchen. he was shirtless. not like he was trying to be sexy about it—just wore those threadbare gray sweats, low on his hips like they had a personal vendetta against dignity. hair half-tied, face flushed from leaning over a rice cooker. “and curry. i reheated the one we got last week. it’s probably fine.” and he turn back to the kitchen.

“probably?” you echoed, walking with your boots across the carpet that had definitely seen better years. you passed shoko, who gave you a long side-eye, then a longer front-eye when your boobs jiggled as you bent to pick up a pillow off the floor.

your tank top was obscene in a very “this was never meant to be outerwear” way, and your mini skirt had no business doing the bare minimum. not that anyone was complaining. not really.

“jesus,” she muttered, flicking ash into an old instant ramen cup. “how the fuck did your tits get so big? those weren’t like that last semester.”

“i worked out.”

“with what, gravity?” she made a circling gesture toward your chest. “you bench-pressing planets?”

you flopped onto the couch behind her, letting your arms fall over the backrest like you were trying to get arrested for indecency. “they just... grew. maybe i hit second puberty.”

shoko reached over and tugged at your tank top like she was checking a label. “second puberty’s a myth. you’re lying. you either got implants or a demon’s blessing. spill it.”

“you wanna feel them?” you offered sweetly, voice honeyed and shameless.

“i always want to feel them. that’s not the point.”

from the kitchen, geto said, “do i need to be here for this? or can i just watch?”

“shut the fuck up,” shoko called, “you’re already shirtless, pervert.”

“you’re in my apartment,” he called back, emerging with three mismatched bowls of steaming curry, one chopstick set already missing. he dropped the bowls on the coffee table and gestured vaguely to the mess. “eat before i change my mind.”

shoko didn’t move. she was still staring at your chest with the intensity of a scientist trying to understand a new species. “okay but seriously,” she said, “you used to have, like, regular tits. now they’re... menace tits.”

“menace tits?” you repeated, grinning.

“like if you leaned forward too fast someone might get a concussion.”

geto sat on the floor, too tall and too casual, already scooping curry into his mouth like he hadn’t slept in two days. you follow to sit beside him. “they are kind of violent. like, threatening. in a good way.”

you pointed your spoon at him. “you’re just mad they didn’t happen to you.”

“i’d kill to have tits like that,” he said around a mouthful. “i’d start a cult.”

“you did start a cult,” shoko said, mouth twitching.

“not for tits, though. that was ideological.”

“sure,” you said, “ideologically horny.”

geto shrugged like you’d just handed him a compliment, licking curry from his thumb before he reached over to grab a napkin—and grazed your thigh with the back of his fingers like it was an accident. it wasn’t.

you pretended not to notice. shoko absolutely noticed.

“you two gonna fuck right here or should i go smoke on the balcony?”

“please,” you said, already giggling, “you’d just press your face to the glass like a cat.”

“damn right i would,” she said, dragging her cigarette to the filter. “free porn and curry? i’m not moving.”

and somehow, that was the real vibe of geto’s apartment: filthy, sweaty, comfortable. you’d never been somewhere more disgusting that still made you feel like curling up and letting the night rot slowly around you. the air was hot, the curry was too spicy, shoko was drunk off her second beer and already making plans to fight god, and geto kept looking at you like he knew exactly how that tank top was going to end up by midnight.

and he wasn’t wrong.

geto finished his curry with the kind of single-minded focus you’d expect from a man who’d been fasting for enlightenment but gave up when he smelled something fried. he licked his thumb again, sucked a speck of rice off his knuckle, and looked up at you through his lashes like he knew. like he always knew. like he was in on some joke your thighs were telling in a language only perverts spoke.

“you still haven’t taken those boots off,” he said, voice slow and syrupy, the kind that soaked into your spine.

“and i won’t,” you said primly, crossing your legs just to watch his eyes track the motion like a dog waiting for a treat. “they’re part of the outfit. they’re a lifestyle choice.”

“they’re a threat,” shoko muttered, setting her empty bowl on the floor and lighting another cigarette with the dying embers of the last one. “to national security. to mental health.”

“you’re just mad they don’t match your tits,” you replied sweetly, leaning back into the couch cushions and pulling your tank top up in a useless attempt at modesty that just made everything worse. “they couldn’t,” shoko said. “your tits are... chaotic evil.”

“they’re misunderstood,” you argued, grabbing your beer again. “they just have ambition.”

“they have range,” geto added, finishing the last of his beer. “you could balance a wine glass on them or smother someone to death. versatility.”

you raised the can in salute. “exactly.”

shoko stood, suddenly, like the couch had become spiritually uninhabitable. “i’m going to smoke something illegal on the balcony before i get emotionally invested in whatever’s about to happen here.”

“too late,” you called as she slid the glass door open with a screech and stepped out into the heavy night.

then it was just you and geto. the apartment hummed around you—dim, hot, cluttered. the fridge buzzed like it had trauma. the clock ticked unevenly. somewhere in the building, a dog barked once and then gave up. and geto... well.

he shifted closer. not much. just enough that his knees brushed yours, and his hand landed lightly on your bare thigh. not high. not low. just... there. a placeholder. a punctuation mark between all the things you hadn’t said out loud yet. “you know,” he said, thumb stroking a lazy arc across your skin, “i keep thinking about what you said earlier.”

you blinked, faux-innocent. “i said a lot of things.”

“the part about your tits matching the boots.” he looked so serious, and that made it worse. “i didn’t get it at first. but now... now i see it.”

“do you?”

“yeah.” his voice dropped lower, like it was dragging itself across velvet. “they’re both dangerous. built for worship. you don’t walk into a room with those things—you arrive.”

you let your head fall back, laughing—breathless and soft, because of course he was turning your bullshit into poetry. you could feel the heat of him next to you, his palm heavier now, fingers edging higher with that slow, reverent menace he was famous for. “what are you doing, suguru,” you asked, tipping your head toward him.

“just appreciating a gift from god,” he said.

“you’re not even religious.”

“i am now.”

you snorted. “oh, please.”

he looked at you. really looked at you. eyes dark and steady, like they were made to stare, made to drink in slow details—the glisten of sweat at your collarbone, the delicate strain of fabric over full curves, the way you were smiling like you hadn’t already decided how this night was going to end.

then his voice dropped even lower. almost a whisper. almost holy.

“can i touch them?”

you raised your eyebrows. smirked. leaned in close enough for your breath to touch his jaw.

“which one—boots or tits?”

his smile split like a secret, soft and wide and so full of bad ideas it made your thighs twitch. “both,” he said, already sliding his palm higher. outside, shoko lit something that smelled like it should be illegal in three prefectures and muttered, “god damn it,” to the city below.

and inside, geto’s hands found reverence.

geto’s hand not moving fast. just pressing—heat through skin, weight through muscle—like he was waiting for permission he already knew he had. and maybe he did. maybe you were both just playing the long game because drawing it out was part of the sick pleasure, like edging a conversation until the whole room ached from the subtext.

the air was heavy. smelled like smoke and leftover curry and something warmer, muskier. something you. sweat and perfume and laundry detergent from your tank top. geto inhaled like it was the first real breath he’d taken in hours. like it was better than any spell he’d ever learned.

you were watching him watch you, and it was stupid. it was so stupid, the way he looked at you like your tits were preaching. like your whole chest had something to say, and he was ready to listen. eyes locked, lips parted, and that thumb of his drifting higher now, tracing the hem of your skirt like he was testing gravity.

you didn’t stop him.

“you’re being weird about this,” you murmured, voice sticky with amusement. low and lazy, like you’d just woken up in a stranger’s bed and decided to stay. “i’m being respectful,” he said, immediately. “these are divine objects. you don’t just rush in.”

“you’ve seen me naked before.”

“yeah,” he said, dragging his gaze up your body. “but not like this.”

you cocked your head. “what’s different?”

he didn’t answer immediately. just slipped his hand under your skirt, high on your thigh now, palm curved like he wanted to hold all of you there, in that handful of skin. “you know what’s different,” he said finally, soft and dark and smiling. “you’re dangerous now.”

you snorted. “i’ve always been dangerous.”

“yeah. but now it’s weaponized.”

you leaned back into the couch, legs spread enough to make it a problem, your boots still on like a crime scene waiting to happen. “you gonna make an offering to the tit gods or what?”

“i said respectful,” he repeated, but he was already moving. already shifting his weight, one knee between your thighs on the couch cushion, the heat of him crawling up your body like ivy in a horror movie—slow, creeping, inevitable.

his hands, finally, found your waist. slid up. thumbs brushing the underside of your tits where the fabric clung indecently tight. he didn’t grope. not yet. he held, like they might break. like they might bite. “jesus christ,” he breathed, reverent and stupid and hungry. “they really are bigger.”

“i told you,” you said, pleased with yourself. “second puberty.”

he made a noise in the back of his throat. it might’ve been a laugh. might’ve been a death rattle. “i can’t believe i get to live in the same timeline as these.”

“you’re welcome,” you said sweetly, and arched just enough that they pressed against his hands more firmly—soft, heavy, straining through the thin, sweat-damp tank top.

his breath hitched.

“you gonna cry?” you asked, almost teasing, but there was something soft in it too. “need a minute?”

he shook his head slowly. “nah. just... giving thanks.”

and then he leaned in.

not to kiss your mouth. not yet. no. he dipped lower—lower—mouth brushing your chest like it was sacred ground. lips parting, breath hot through the fabric, and then a kiss, gentle and obscene, right between your tits. not biting. not even licking. just pressing his mouth there, full and warm, as if he could pour something of himself into the space and let it stay.

“okay,” you whispered, voice shaking just enough to feel real. “now you’re being weird.”

“can’t help it,” he mumbled into your skin. “they’re majestic. it’s like looking into the sun. if the sun had cleavage.”

“do you want me to take the top off or are you planning on praying through cotton all night?”

he looked up, eyes dazed and adoring and wrecked.

“i think i want to die between them,” he said.

and you believed him.

he didn’t look away when you pulled the straps down.

you hadn’t even said anything, hadn’t made it a moment—no dramatic glance, no cheeky little tease. just lifted your hands with lazy grace and tugged both straps of your tank top off your shoulders, letting them slip down your arms like they didn’t matter. the neckline fell low—too low—and then lower still until the thin fabric couldn’t hold on anymore. your tits spilled free like they were tired of waiting, heavy and flushed, nipples drawn tight from the heat, the sweat, the way geto was breathing.

his mouth parted like it was automatic. like he needed more oxygen just to process them.

“holy shit,” he muttered, voice dropped into that ruined octave of someone who’d just witnessed the divine and was trying not to weep about it. “okay. okay, i get it now.”

you hummed like you were bored, even as you shifted your hips slightly, thighs parting wider, the skirt barely clinging to your dignity. “get what?”

he didn’t answer. just leaned forward again—lower this time—and pressed his face into your cleavage like he was returning home after war. both hands came up, cupping, lifting, reverent but not shy anymore. his thumbs circled your nipples, brushing them soft at first, then with a little more pressure, watching them stiffen under his touch like they were shy at first but warming to the attention. his mouth followed, lips parting, tongue flicking once against your sternum before he just let his whole face sink between them.

you laughed. a breathy, stunned thing, disbelieving. “you okay down there?”

a muffled, “no,” came from his mouth, buried in the valley of your chest.

you tilted your head back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut. the heat of his breath, the scratch of his stubble, the weight of his body leaning into yours—all of it made your skin feel too tight, too present, like you’d been reduced to sensation and tits and the ache between your thighs.

and then—

the sliding door screeched open again.

“oh my fucking god,” came shoko’s voice, flat and annoyed and high as sin. “i was gone for five minutes.”

you cracked one eye open. “welcome back.”

she was standing there, one hip cocked, a half-finished joint between her fingers and the most unimpressed expression you’d ever seen on a human face. “suguru, are you motorboating our friend’s tits?”

he didn’t move. just gave a muffled, “mm-hmm,” from the plush safety of your chest. “you’re so fucking weird,” she muttered, stepping back inside. the glass door clicked shut behind her. “both of you. all of you.”

“don’t act like you weren’t thinking about it,” you said, breath hitching as geto’s hands slid up to cup the full weight of your breasts, squeezing experimentally. “thinking about it and walking in on it are two very different emotional experiences,” she said, dropping onto the arm of the couch again, her usual throne. “and i don’t remember giving consent to a live sex show.”

“we’re not even fucking yet,” you said, voice going soft around the edges as geto’s tongue finally found your nipple, slow and obscene. “it’s just—appreciation.” shoko exhaled smoke toward the ceiling. “you’re treating her like a museum exhibit,” she muttered. “a slutty one.”

“interactive,” you corrected, arching just a little when geto sucked harder. “like the science center.”

geto finally lifted his face, lips slick, eyes unfocused. “shoko. give us a minute.”

“give you a minute?” she echoed. “you’ve been face-deep in titties for the last ten. what’s left?”

“spiritual awakening,” he said without hesitation.

shoko rubbed her eyes like the conversation itself was giving her wrinkles. “i’m too high for this. also not high enough.”

“you’re free to join in,” you offered sweetly, not really expecting anything, just basking in the ridiculousness of it all—legs spread, tank top around your ribs, one of jujutsu tech’s finest licking your tits like he was trying to memorize them with his soul, and shoko sitting five feet away like this was normal.

she blinked at you.

paused.

then said, “no, i’m emotionally married to apathy. but thanks for the invite.”

and then, because she couldn’t help herself, her gaze dropped. lingered. for a second too long. at your chest, at geto’s tongue flicking your nipple again just to make you squirm. her eyes narrowed, calculating. critical. “okay,” she finally said. “i’m sorry, but they really are too big. it’s not natural. you need to get them registered.”

“they’re emotional support tits,” you breathed, barely able to speak through the pleasure curling up your spine.

“they’re a threat to public health,” she shot back. geto just groaned, nuzzling back between them like he could disappear there, like there was nowhere else in the world worth being. and honestly? maybe there wasn’t. geto had your tits in his mouth like they were the last goddamn miracle on earth.

and he was so slow about it. he wasn’t even sucking anymore. just licking—flat-tongued, reverent strokes like he was trying to commit the taste to memory. one hand held you steady, splayed wide across your ribs. the other was still tucked under your skirt, palm heavy on the outside of your thigh, fingers twitching now and then like he was thinking about moving them up, and then deciding not to—yet.

your head was tipped back against the couch, mouth slack, one boot heel digging into the cushion like you needed leverage against the slow drag of his tongue. you weren’t making a sound. not a moan, not a whimper. just breathing. open. ruined.

and to the left—there she was.

shoko. leaning against the far arm of the couch, still in her half-buttoned shorts, one leg folded under her, the other kicked out wide with a casualness that didn’t match the way her eyes were pinned to your chest. the joint in her hand had gone out. ash clung to it. she hadn’t moved to relight it. “you’re both disgusting,” she said finally, voice dry, eyes not leaving your tits.

“takes one to know one,” you murmured, without looking at her.

she scoffed. shifted her weight to near you. her shoe knocked against the side of your thigh, not gently. “and what, i’m just supposed to sit here while he acts like he’s breastfeeding?”

geto didn’t even lift his head. just muttered, “she taste better than milk.”

shoko made a noise like she was going to throw up, but her fingers were already toying with the hem of your skirt, just to the side of geto’s hand. you didn’t stop her. didn’t even flinch. your whole body was heavy and humming, caught in that low, thick pulse of being watched.

and fuck. it was hot.

because shoko didn’t move fast. she didn’t push. she didn’t grope. she touched you like a scientist dissecting a problem she wasn’t sure she wanted to solve. her knuckles grazed your thigh. then her nails. light, precise, tracing the edge of where your skirt had rucked up. you could feel the bite of her rings against your skin, cool and sharp and utterly deliberate.

“you’re just letting this happen,” she said, not even trying to sound surprised anymore.

“you’re doing it,” you breathed, finally turning your head toward her. “you joined in.”

she raised an eyebrow. “and?”

you didn’t answer. couldn’t, really—not with geto sucking one nipple deep into his mouth, tongue circling, slow and obscene. your hips jerked once, involuntary. shoko’s hand slid higher in response, palm settling flat against the bare skin of your inner thigh, her thumb just brushing the crease.

there was a pause.

a long, thick silence, broken only by your breath catching and the faint, wet sound of geto’s mouth. “you want her to beg?” shoko asked, voice low now. lower than you’d ever heard it. geto’s mouth popped off your chest, lips wet and kiss-drunk. he looked up, blinking slow, his hands still warm on your ribs.

“she doesn’t have to,” he said.

and then, to your utter ruin, he added—

“she’s already praying.”

shoko looked at him like she was about to punch him in the face. or kiss him. or both.

“you are so full of shit.”

but her hand stayed where it was. her thumb slid closer. you could feel the heat building between your thighs, throbbing in your chest, crawling up your spine. you wanted to say something snarky, something flippant, but all that came out was a shaky exhale and a noise that wasn’t quite a moan.

geto leaned over, resting his head between your tits again like he belonged there. one of his hands found your waist and squeezed, grounding you.

and shoko, that bitch, just watched.

watched your mouth go slack. watched your chest rise and fall with each breath. watched the place between your legs ache for attention. and then she smiled—sharp and slow and awful.

“i want to see what you do when he fucks your tits.”

you blinked at her.

“i want to see,” she repeated, voice soft now. almost curious. “what that looks like.” geto made a low sound against your chest. something dark. pleased. possessive. “you can watch,” he said, shifting, finally moving back—his lips leaving your skin, his hand slipping down to your skirt. “but only if you’re good.”

“define good,” shoko said, eyes hooded, fingers still resting between your thighs like a threat.

you swallowed.

and spread your legs a little wider.

geto shifted back with the kind of gravity that only belonged to people about to be adored.

he slid off the couch cushions and settled on the edge of the couch like a god descending to be fed — legs wide, jaw loose, hair slipping from the mess of his tie like it wanted to watch you too. there was something careless about it, the way he sprawled there, cock still hidden behind the slouch of gray sweats that clung low and soft and damp at the waistband. his bare chest gleamed faintly under the shitty yellow light, marked by heat and your mouth, a smear of your lip balm still ghosting the edge of one pec.

“here?” you asked, already slipping off the couch with your knees hitting the shitty carpet in one dull, obedient thud. it was hot. stupidly so. your thighs still trembled from where shoko had touched you, still open just a little too wide as you knelt between his legs like the position itself was enough.

“right there,” geto said, voice low and thin like it was being dragged out of his lungs. “fuck, baby, look at you—just right there.”

you looked up through your lashes, tits still bare and high and flushed, your top bunched under them like it had surrendered hours ago. he hadn’t even pulled himself out yet, and the heat between your thighs was already stupid, embarrassing. shoko made a quiet little noise — not a word, just a breath, the sound of someone watching and refusing to blink.

then she moved.

she didn’t say anything. just slinked off the arm of the couch and dropped beside geto like it was her seat all along, one bare thigh brushing his, the lit joint still smoldering between her fingers. she didn’t look at him. she looked at you — on your knees, eyes bright, breathing hard — and for once, she didn’t say anything shitty. no joke. no sarcasm. just… watched.

“you gonna be good for me?” geto murmured, voice wrecked now, sweet and fucked and soft, dragging one hand through your hair while the other braced against his thigh. “you gonna make me lose my mind down there?”

you smiled with teeth. “only if you ask nice.”

he laughed — a short, broken thing — and leaned his head back against the couch.

“please, baby,” he said. “come make this cock feel like a blessing.”

you didn’t rush.

your fingers curled around the waistband of his sweats, thumbs tucked in slow like you were pulling apart the final seal on something dangerous, something volatile. the moment the elastic gave, his cock spilled out like it couldn’t wait — tall, heavy, flushed an angry dark pink at the tip and thick in that rude way that felt like a punchline. veiny, twitching, needy — and absolutely aware of the way your mouth parted.

shoko whistled low under her breath. “jesus christ, suguru.”

“don’t act like you haven’t seen it,” he said, breathless.

“not like this.”

you dragged your eyes back up his body. his abs were fluttering. his jaw was clenched. your hand wrapped around the base, and he groaned — full chest, full throat, like the touch alone was too much after being teased between your tits for so long. your thumb circled the head, slick already leaking at the tip like he’d been waiting for this the whole fucking night.

“look at that,” you murmured, voice low and thick. “he’s already crying for me.”

“he’s sensitive,” geto breathed, hand still tangled in your hair. “needs to be treated right.”

“don’t worry, baby,” you said, leaning forward now — mouth open, tongue just barely flicking the swollen head. “i’ll take real good care of him.”

you licked the tip. slow.

not a suck — not yet — just the soft lap of your tongue over the bead of precome, circling, savoring, letting it smear across your lips like gloss. he gasped above you, thighs twitching, and shoko’s breath hitched beside him.

you looked up. caught his eyes.

then pressed your tits together — full and warm and heavy — and lowered them onto his cock like a curtain falling on a final act.

he exhaled like he’d been holding it all night.

his cock fit too well between them, the weight of it obscene, the head nudging up near your collarbone while the rest disappeared into the soft press of your chest. you gave a slow little squeeze, letting your cleavage swallow him, letting that thick shaft pulse against your skin while you kissed the tip, sweet and patient.

“you see this, shoko?” geto’s voice was wrecked now. one hand cradled the back of your head, the other gripping the couch cushion beside him. “fuckin’—she’s spoiling me.” shoko didn’t answer immediately. you could feel her looking — the heat of it, the scrutiny, the way her silence felt like approval.

“i’m jealous,” she said finally, voice quieter than it should’ve been.

you grinned against geto’s cock. “you can help.”

she didn’t move. not yet. just exhaled and watched, breath held like prayer.

you rocked your shoulders slightly, dragging his cock through the cleft of your tits, slow and steady, the friction just enough to make him curse. each pass painted your skin with precome, messy and sweet, and when you leaned forward to take the head into your mouth again — just a kiss, just a taste — geto moaned like he was already halfway to heaven.

“f-fuck, baby,” he gasped, hips twitching. “you’re perfect. you were made for this. look at you — down there, all soft and fucking beautiful — you’re gonna kill me.”

you let the tip pop free of your lips, smiling up at him like it wasn’t already insane how hard he was shaking. “i’m just getting started, daddy.”

shoko made a low sound beside him.

and your hands pressed your tits tighter, welcoming him deeper into the heat.

shoko had been silent for too long.

not like her. she usually filled the room with snark when things got too heated — cracked a dirty joke, rolled her eyes, insulted you just to keep the tension manageable. but now? now she was watching — watching the way your tits cradled geto’s cock, how the thick shaft dragged slow through the valley of your chest, slick and twitching and pink at the tip. watching your shoulders flex, your fingers sink deeper into your own skin to press them tighter together, to make the pressure unbearable.

geto was falling apart.

you could hear it — in the little gasps, the way his voice kept cracking when he tried to speak. the praises fell in fragments now, choked off between moans, soft-spoken worship turning sloppy. “fuck, baby… so warm, so fucking soft, can’t—can’t think—”

you had your mouth open, waiting for the head of his cock to peek up again, and when it did, you licked it. just a tease, tongue swirling around the ridge like it was a spell. he shuddered violently, thighs flexing under your knees, one hand gripping your hair like he didn’t trust himself to let go.

and then shoko moved.

she didn’t ask.

she just leaned in, slow and quiet and deliberate, the way she always did when she made up her mind about something she shouldn’t want. her hair fell over one shoulder, long and messy and smelling like smoke, and her face came level with yours — so close your cheek brushed hers. her eyes flicked down. locked on the head of geto’s cock as it swelled thick and flushed, smeared with your spit, slick with arousal.

and then she opened her mouth.

you paused. just for a second. lips parted. breath caught.

and watched her take the tip in.

geto made a sound that wasn’t a word — just a broken, animal fuck dragged out from the base of his spine. his head slammed back against the wall behind the couch, one hand fisting in the cushion, the other still clinging to your hair like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality.

“holy shit, shoko—what the—fuck, are you—fuck—”

but she didn’t speak.

she just closed her lips around the head of his cock — your tits still wrapped around the shaft, still moving — and sucked. hard.

you felt it. all of it. the heat of her mouth at your chest, the way her tongue flicked against the slit, the obscene, wet sound of her lips wrapped tight around the crown while your tits moved in tandem, gliding up and down the shaft like a prayer answered in motion. your hands pressed together tighter, pushing the flesh in just enough to squeeze him more, just enough to feel the way he pulsed and twitched with every pass.

“oh my god,” you whispered, watching her work — the elegance of it, the intent. “you’re so fucking good at that.” shoko didn’t reply — just looked at you out the corner of her eye, cheeks hollowed around the tip of his cock, eyes gleaming with something far too smug.

geto was gone.

“please—please don’t stop—fuck, you’re both gonna kill me—shit, just like that, don’t stop—”

you didn’t.

you kept your rhythm, slow and steady and mean, sliding your tits up and down as shoko suckled the head of his cock like she was feeding on it. her tongue flicked, circled, coaxed more precome to spill across your skin, wet and messy and obscene. you could feel it dripping now, collecting in the curve of your cleavage, sliding down your sternum. you pressed them tighter, kissed his base, licked the skin where your chest met his body.

his hands were everywhere — on your head, in shoko’s hair, clawing at the couch, grabbing nothing. his whole body trembled with tension, hips rocking up now despite himself, fucking into your tits and into her mouth in short, desperate little jerks.

“fuck, i’m—i’m gonna—i can’t—” his breath was breaking apart, fingers clenching, voice nearly gone. “gonna cum, fuck, fuck, i’m—”

you squeezed. shoko sucked harder.

and he broke.

he cried out — high and wild and helpless — and came between your tits and into her mouth, cock pulsing hard against your skin as he jerked forward, hips twitching, thighs tightening under your hands. his whole body bowed forward, gave in, as ropes of hot come spilled over your breasts and into shoko’s mouth, messy and loud and filthy.

shoko pulled back with a long, wet slurp, licking her lips like she’d just tasted something rare. she looked at you — and then at him — and smirked.

“you boys never know how to shut up when it counts.”

you were still holding your tits around him, come dripping between them, breath coming fast.

geto was a wreck.

slumped back against the couch, eyes half-lidded, chest heaving, hair sticking to his face. he looked like he’d seen god and survived — barely. “holy fuck,” he whispered, hoarse and raw. “i’m in love with both of you.” you glanced at shoko. she rolled her eyes. “you’ll still be in love after we make you do it again.” you smiled. and licked your lips clean.

geto was still catching his breath.

he looked like sin and salvation rolled into a single man-shaped pile of regret, sprawled on the edge of the couch like his spine had given out. one hand was limp in your hair, the other sliding down shoko’s thigh like he forgot what limbs were for. his cock twitched weakly between your tits, still glossy, still twitching like it hadn’t accepted it was finished yet.

and then, very calmly, shoko stuck her tongue out.

held it there. eyes half-lidded, amused.

and let a thick, glistening bead of geto’s come drip off the tip — slow, heavy, obscene — until it landed with a wet little pat against the top of your breast.

you blinked up at her.

she looked like she was tasting irony.

you didn’t move. just raised an eyebrow, still cradling his softening cock between your breasts like it was a religious relic. “seriously?”

“waste not, want not,” she said, shrugging. and then she leaned in.

her mouth met yours with no warning, no lead-in, no tenderness — just heat, the sharp edge of her teeth against your lower lip, her tongue slick and tasting like smoke and the faintest aftershock of geto. you groaned into her mouth, and she kissed you like she wanted to shut you up, hands sliding around your waist, one rising boldly to your chest.

geto groaned. a helpless, ruined sound. “that’s so hot.”

“shut up,” shoko muttered against your lips, not meaning it, not stopping.

her palm dragged upward, slow and obscene, smearing the mess across your breasts — his mess, still warm and slippery — until it streaked across your sternum, your nipples, slicked your skin in some holy combination of filth and fondness.

you gasped against her mouth, and she grinned.

“look at this,” she said, sitting back to admire her work. her fingers gripped both tits, lifted them, gave a squeeze that made you gasp again. “fucking disgusting. you look like a crime scene.”

“thank you?” you said, trying not to laugh.

but then she added — with her chin resting in her hand and her eyes full of smugness so rich it was practically spilling over —

“you look like someone just tried to baptize you with his cock.”

and you snorted. violently. choked on your own breath, bent double with a laugh so loud it startled even you. geto, still too weak to speak, wheezed out something that might’ve been “holy shit” and covered his face with one hand.

“shoko,” you gasped, clutching at your ribs, “you’re a demon.”

“a sexy one,” she said, licking her thumb clean with deliberate slowness.

geto, blinking slowly from his position of post-nut devastation, peeked between his fingers. “if i die right now, i want my tombstone to say ‘death by tit and tongue.’”

you dragged a pillow off the couch and threw it at him. he caught it with his chest, groaned, and collapsed backward like it had been a mortal wound. “okay. round two in… twenty minutes.” shoko lit another cigarette, perched back on the armrest like nothing had happened. “that’s generous.” you laid back against the carpet, chest bare, skin glistening, heart still racing.

filthy. loved. ridiculous.

somewhere in the corner of the room, a moth slammed itself into the glass door and bounced off. “this place needs to be burned down,” shoko said. you sighed. “but it’s kind of… home.” she looked down at you, chest marked with sweat and spit and a stupid amount of affection.

“…yeah. unfortunately.”

twenty minutes didn’t pass.

maybe ten. twelve if you were being generous. it wasn’t like anyone was counting.

you were still half-sprawled on the floor, your body sticky with evidence, one leg cocked up against the couch while shoko rested a heel on your thigh like she was claiming territory. geto had relocated to the floor, slouched against the couch frame beside you with his sweatpants pulled up only halfway, looking more like a mythological burnout than a man.

nobody was saying anything. not yet. the air was full of post-orgasm haze — too hot, too heavy, the kind of silence that buzzed just under the skin.

then geto shifted.

just enough that his thigh brushed yours, and your eyes dropped automatically to where the waistband of his sweats was tugged halfway down, revealing the start of a cock that had no business twitching again already.

you didn’t say anything. you just tilted your head.

he caught the look and grinned.

“what?” he said, voice low and wrecked. “she kissed you, your tits are still covered in my come, and i’m not supposed to get hard again?” you rolled your eyes, but your stomach flipped traitorously, heat climbing again with that lazy, stupid inevitability. your thighs pressed together. your voice came out drier than intended. “you sure you’ve got another one in you?”

“baby,” he said, dragging his palm down the flat of your stomach, “i haven’t even started yet.”

shoko snorted from the armrest. “someone’s cocky.”

“someone’s confident,” he corrected, already crawling forward on his knees, palms bracketing your hips like he’d never stopped touching you. you lay back willingly this time, arching under the weight of his hands, your whole body humming with anticipation, the ache between your legs reigniting like it never left. you expected him to go for your mouth, your tits, your thighs—

but instead he leaned in close. lower.

and breathed against your navel.

his hands slid under your thighs, pushing your legs up, open, spread and vulnerable, and then— “wait,” shoko said lazily, “before you ruin her again—” geto paused, blinking up from between your legs like he was being interrupted mid-prayer. shoko leaned forward, flicking your nipple with the tip of her joint. “are we switching this time? because if i don’t get some of this, i swear to god—”

you let out a breathy laugh, half-moan. “you want top billing?”

“we co-lead now,” she said, and flicked the nipple again for emphasis.

geto didn’t protest. just pulled back and looked at her, then at you.

“fine,” he said, and leaned over to kiss you, really kiss you this time — deep and full and tasting like your own breath, like smoke and salt and the ghost of your earlier laugh. “but I get to fuck her with your tits again when we’re done.”

“babe,” you whispered against his lips, “we can do that in the morning.”

“or in the shower,” shoko added, already crawling over your legs, straddling your thigh like she didn’t care that the floor was still sticky. “or while you’re eating breakfast. multitask.” you opened your mouth to say something smart, something stupid— but her mouth found your throat, and the words turned to noise.

geto leaned back to watch — one hand still stroking your thigh, the other fisting gently in his sweatpants as his cock swelled again, so hard so fast it almost looked painful. “fuck,” he muttered, “this is gonna be worse than the first time.”

“worse?” shoko said, licking a stripe up your neck.

“worse,” he said, voice gravel and heat and promise. “like… begging level.”

you groaned.

“good,” she said, cupping your tits again, smearing the leftover mess with a grin so sharp it could gut. “i like when she beg.” shoko's mouth on your neck was sharp, almost mean — no build-up, no tender teasing. she didn’t kiss you like a lover. she kissed like she meant it, like she had something to prove. her teeth caught your pulse just to feel it jump beneath them, and her tongue followed, hot and rough, tasting the salt of your skin like it was hers to devour.

and fuck — maybe it was.

you were pinned under her hips, her thigh between yours, the weight of her pressing down just enough to make your back arch and your breath catch. her hands were already on your chest again — still slick, still marked from earlier — squeezing your tits like she wanted to see if the memory of geto’s cum was still warm on your skin. it was. the smear of it caught her fingertips, and she laughed, dark and quiet and thrilled.

“you’re a fucking mess,” she said, dragging her thumb across one nipple, watching it pebble under her touch. “and you love it.” you whined something that might have been a yes, but your voice cracked too hard in the middle.

geto was still kneeling off to the side, half-forgotten in the haze, but his gaze never left you. his cock was heavy in his hand again, long fingers stroking slowly from base to tip, his other palm flat against the floor like he needed to ground himself or he’d float. his eyes followed shoko’s tongue — the way she licked across the top of your chest like she was tasting the aftermath, chasing the flavor of earlier sins.

“i’d say i’m jealous,” he murmured, voice rough and thick, “but watching this? might be better.” shoko didn’t even look at him. she just leaned down and bit your tit — not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough to make you jolt. “stay still,” she said, mouth full, voice sticky with mischief. “i’m not done feeding yet.”

your legs twitched. your fingers dug into the carpet. and still — you stayed.

because you wanted to. because her voice in your ear was pure fucking command, and her mouth on your chest was making your pussy throb in a slow, devastating pulse. she moved lower — lazy, sliding her body down yours like she was melting over you — and kissed the underside of your breast, then your ribs, then your stomach, each press of her lips hotter than the last.

you looked down just in time to see her part your thighs.

and grin.

“ohh,” she breathed, like a dirty secret. “you’re dripping.”

your hips bucked.

“i haven’t even touched you yet,” she murmured, dragging one finger up the slick mess between your legs, slow and easy, spreading you open with the kind of casual confidence that made your spine bend. “this is all from getting your tits licked? that’s so fucking cute.”

geto groaned, a real one — helpless, reverent. “don’t tease her too much.”

“she likes it,” shoko said, then turned her head just enough to make eye contact with you. “don’t you, baby?”

you nodded. too fast. too breathless.

“use your words,” she said, slipping one finger in. just the tip.

“yes,” you gasped, voice cracking. “yes, i like it — please, shoko—”

she rewarded you by sliding in deeper.

slowly.

her finger curled inside you just right, and her mouth returned to your tits, tongue wet and unhurried, licking the slick remnants of earlier off your chest like she wanted to clean you with her mouth. geto’s hand was working faster now, his breath coming in shuddering waves, his eyes locked on where shoko’s fingers disappeared into your cunt, where your thighs trembled against the floor.

and still, no one rushed.

because this was worship. this was slow destruction. this was filth as intimacy. shoko added another finger, kissed the tip of your nipple like an apology, then leaned back to watch your face while she curled her hand — hard and sudden, precise.

you cried out.

“fuck,” geto whispered, like it was being wrung out of him. “she’s so—fuck, shoko—don’t stop, don’t—please—”

“shh,” she said, not looking at him. “you’ll get your turn.”

and then, to you, “you ready to come, sweet thing?”

you didn’t speak. couldn’t. just nodded, body slick and arched and soaked in need, begging in every line of your skin. shoko’s smile turned vicious. “good.”

and her mouth went down.

shoko’s mouth met your cunt like she knew it — like this was muscle memory, like she’d dreamed it before and memorized the weight of your thighs and the shape of your hunger without ever admitting it out loud. her tongue slid against you slow, too slow, a hot wet stripe that made your hips jump off the floor and your hands fist in the tangled couch blanket beside you.

you moaned — long, drawn-out, cracked open like prayer — and she didn’t pause. just grinned against you, then did it again.

“holy fuck,” you gasped.

geto had gotten to his knees. his hand still on his cock, lazily stroking, and his other hand drifted to your breast, thumb brushing your nipple with that same devastating softness he'd started with. the contrast of her tongue between your legs and his hand on your chest was maddening — soft and hard, sharp and slow, together like they were building you up to collapse.

“you taste like you’ve been waiting for this all day,” shoko muttered between licks, her voice muffled but smug. “she has,” geto murmured, leaning down to kiss your jaw. “kept those legs closed through a whole dinner and half a blunt.”

you groaned helplessly. “i’m gonna fucking die.”

“not yet,” shoko said, and sucked.

your back arched, thighs twitching against her cheeks. her tongue flicked, circled, teased your clit like it was a secret she was trying to coax out, and her fingers never stopped — two of them buried inside you again, curling with every slow drag of her mouth, pushing up into you with devastating rhythm.

geto kissed your neck. your shoulder. his cock nudged your hip now, slick and pulsing and ready, but he wasn’t rushing it. he watched you come apart under shoko’s mouth, eyes hungry, reverent, overwhelmed. “she looks so fucking pretty like this,” he whispered, brushing your sweat-stuck hair from your face. “you gonna come for her, baby?”

you nodded, whined, bit your lip until it stung.

“use your words,” shoko growled against your cunt, and the vibration made you twitch.

“yes, yes, please, shoko—don’t stop—”

she didn’t.

she doubled down.

mouth moving faster, tongue flicking harder, fingers fucking up into you with that sharp, perfect curl, over and over, and geto’s hand rolled your nipple just right, pinching it gently as he whispered filth against your ear, “you’re gonna soak her fingers, aren’t you?”

“gonna scream for us?”

“go on, baby — make a mess. be loud. let her taste all of it.”

and god, you did.

your orgasm slammed through you without warning — sudden and hot and full-body, hips bucking into shoko’s mouth, hands scrabbling at the floor, voice breaking into a cry that filled the whole disgusting, beautiful apartment.

shoko moaned when she felt you clench.

kept licking.

kept fucking you through it like she wanted everything, and you gave it, gasping and twitching and almost sobbing with how good it was. geto was breathing harder now, his cock wet at the tip, hand jerking faster. “shit,” he said, “fuck, i’m gonna—fuck—” and when shoko pulled her mouth from your cunt, she turned to him, hand still fucking you lazily — and said, “then come on her tits again. she misses it.”

and geto broke.

he leaned over you, panting, cock sliding between your sticky breasts with practiced ease. you pressed them together for him, still dazed from the orgasm, still shaking — and watched his face collapse as he thrust twice, once more, and spilled everything all over your chest with a strangled groan.

heat. wet. everywhere again.

you laughed — half-crazed, half-gone. shoko just wiped your brow with the back of her hand, like she’d done something generous. “you’re welcome,” she said, casual as ever, smearing the mess across your tits again. geto dropped beside you, spent and grinning like a man reborn.

you, somewhere between them, a ruined shrine in boots and sweat.

you could still taste her on your lips. or maybe it was your own orgasm, lingering bitter-sweet under your tongue. either way, the air was hot again — hotter, somehow — and your body wasn’t yours anymore. it was theirs. sore, open, glowing. you were slick in all the places that mattered and some that didn’t. your chest gleamed with geto’s second confession, still drying sticky under the curve of your tits.

and still — you wanted.

shoko sat next to you, her breathing steady but deep. her hair stuck to her neck in damp strands, lips wet, her face unreadable in that dangerous way. she was flushed — not just from exertion, but from wanting. she hadn’t come yet. neither had geto, this round. and that heat, that tension, was everywhere. it clung to the room, thick as sweat on skin.

you pulled your hand down from your breast and dragged a finger through the mess. held it up for her to see. “you look like you still need something.”

shoko didn’t answer. not with words. she just stood.

she pulled her shorts down slow, like a dare, one inch at a time, revealing black cotton underwear soaked through with wet and the bold indifference of someone who knew exactly what she wanted. she didn’t make it sexy. she made it inevitable. “i haven’t come,” she said, stepping out of them. “and you have a mouth.”

geto groaned. “fuck.”

you smiled. wide. wrecked.

and then, slow, still lying back on the floor, one leg bent, body open and welcoming — you looked up at her and said, “then sit on my face.”

the words hit the air like a punch.

shoko blinked once. her mouth twitched. and then — she grinned.

“don’t mind if i do.”

geto was already moving — kneeling between your thighs now, hands on your knees, spreading you open with that same reverent touch he’d used all night. but there was something hungrier in it now. something deeper. he was still hard, thick and flushed and dripping against his stomach, his cock slapped up against your pussy with a wet sound that made both of you twitch.

“fuck,” you muttered, looking up at him. “you’re still hard?”

he leaned over you, hands framing your hips, voice dark and too calm.

“i told you,” he said. “i haven’t started yet.”

and then shoko straddled your face.

no warning. no hesitation. her knees hit the floor on either side of your head and her cunt hovered inches above your mouth — glistening, soaked, swollen from teasing and denial and her own fucked-up sense of control. you reached up, bracing your hands on her thighs, and pulled her down.

you licked her first.

your tongue dragged up the full length of her pussy, from her entrance to her clit, slow and hungry, and her whole body shivered above you. “jesus—fuck,” she gasped, one hand flying to your hair, gripping hard. “okay. okay. yeah, like that—”

geto groaned like he was going to come just watching.

he lined his cock up with your entrance, dragging the head through your folds, teasing the opening — already so open, so slick from earlier, that you twitched beneath him the second he touched you.

and then he started to push in.

slow. so slow.

his cock stretched you with aching, unrelenting pressure, inch by inch, and your moan was lost against shoko’s cunt, muffled and vibrating into her as she gripped your hair tighter and rolled her hips into your mouth.

“holy shit,” she gasped, voice going thin. “she’s good at this.”

geto gritted his teeth, sinking deeper, breath ragged.

“she’s good at everything,” he muttered, hips pressing forward until he was fully buried. “fuck, you’re so tight, baby—still? after all that? fuck.”

you moaned again — helpless, overwhelmed — as shoko began grinding down on your mouth and geto began to thrust, slow and deliberate, hips rolling into you with the full weight of his desire. every drag of his cock sent sparks through your spine, pressure building again already — your clit brushing his base, your thighs trembling open wider.

shoko was shaking above you, panting, one hand braced on the wall, the other tangled in your hair as your tongue circled her clit and your lips sucked, steady, intent.

“fuck—fuck, she’s gonna make me come like this,” shoko gasped, hips rocking harder now. “god, you—you're filthy. so fucking good—yes—just like that—don’t stop—”

geto was still watching.

watching your mouth get used like a toy. watching your tits bounce with every thrust. watching you give everything and ask for nothing but more.

his thrusts picked up — still slow, still deep, but harder, more claiming now. his hands held your hips in place, fingers digging into your skin, dragging you down onto his cock with every snap of his hips. “you’re gonna make her come,” he whispered to shoko, voice dark with pride. “and she’s gonna take me like a good fucking girl while she does it.”

you moaned — a wet, desperate sound lost in shoko’s cunt — and your hands tightened on her thighs, holding her down, eating her out like your life depended on it, tongue moving faster now, deeper, swirling, flicking.

she cried out.

and her whole body tensed.

“fuck—i’m—don’t stop—fuck, i’m coming—”

her orgasm hit like a slap — sharp, sudden, full-body — and she gasped, legs trembling, hips frozen as your tongue dragged her through it, still licking, still devouring. she came hard, grinding helplessly into your mouth, and when she finally started to breathe again, she collapsed forward, catching herself on the couch, hair falling around your face like a curtain.

“holy shit,” she breathed. “she just ate my soul.”

geto groaned above you — hips stuttering.

“fuck,” he panted. “don’t say that, i’m—i’m so fucking close—”

but he didn’t let go yet. you were still wrapped around him, shaking, wet, ruined under both of them. and he wasn’t finished. you didn’t stop.

shoko’s orgasm pulsed against your mouth, her thighs trembling around your head, her hips jerking slightly as sensitivity spiked in all the places she could no longer guard — and you kept sucking. kept your lips wrapped around her clit, kept your tongue moving in tight, precise circles like you had something to prove.

because you did.

you wanted to ruin her. you wanted to see what she looked like when she couldn’t stay sharp — when her sarcasm melted, when her voice cracked, when her body begged in place of her mouth.

and you were close.

she gasped above you, breath caught in her throat, one hand clawing blindly at the couch cushion behind her while the other braced on geto’s shoulder, fingers digging into the meat of him just to stay up. her legs twitched around your head, threatening to clamp down, but your arms were already locked around her thighs, pulling her down, keeping her there, refusing to let go.

“fuck—fuck—baby—” she choked out, hips trying to escape the pull of your mouth, “she won’t stop—suguru—fuck—”

geto was still between your legs, his cock sliding in and out of your cunt with a rhythm that was deliberate and slow, every thrust sinking deep, stroking that soft, unbearable place that made your toes curl. his hands gripped your hips, thumbs digging into the flesh just above your pelvis, keeping you anchored while he watched the way you devoured shoko like it was instinct.

his voice came in a rasp. “she’s fucking addicted to you.”

shoko didn’t answer. couldn’t. her head dropped forward, her forehead brushing geto’s chest, and you felt the moment it broke her again — the whimper, the involuntary twitch, the choked sound that slipped from her lips when she tried to say stop and it came out as please instead.

and then, shaking, she leaned down.

not away. down.

her spine curved forward, folding over you, one hand catching herself on your chest, fingers brushing the slick mess of geto’s come from before. her head rested briefly against his stomach, sweat-slick hair tangling against his abs, and then—

then her mouth opened.

and she licked his cock.

he groaned, deep and shocked, his hips faltering as her tongue dragged across the base where it disappeared inside you. you moaned against her cunt, thighs clenching around his waist, body arching from the floor at the double heat of them — him inside, her on top, and now both of them touching.

shoko’s mouth was slow. exploratory. she kissed the base of his cock where it slid into your pussy, wet and obscene, then flicked her tongue lower, just beneath the ridge. your cunt clenched in response, fluttering tight around him, and geto’s hands flew to her hair before he could stop himself.

“fuck, shoko—”

he gripped the back of her head, not pulling, just holding, tangled in the mess of her hair like he needed something to hang onto. she looked up at him from under her lashes, still licking, then reached between your legs with her free hand and dragged her fingers straight through the slick mess between your folds — your wetness, his come, her spit — and pressed her thumb hard to your clit.

you screamed into her cunt, back bowing off the floor.

she gasped. “fuck—she’s twitching—”

“don’t stop,” geto said, voice hoarse. “don’t you fucking dare.”

and she didn’t.

her mouth dipped lower, licking your clit from time to time with little, almost tender kisses between her filthy worship of geto’s cock. her thumb circled faster now, rubbing your clit in rhythm with the thrust of his hips, in rhythm with the shake of her own thighs as she stayed on your face, even as her cunt trembled with aftershocks. your arms were still locked around her legs, holding her there, and now your fingers slid down to grip her ass, pulling her tighter, closer, mouth still sucking, still devouring.

you could barely breathe. you didn’t need to.

this was oxygen. this was saturation.

geto was panting now, close to the edge but holding himself back by some shred of control, sweat dripping from his jaw onto your chest, hips rolling in slow, grinding circles as he watched shoko lick where he entered you, rub your clit while you moaned into her pussy like a prayer on repeat.

“you feel her?” he whispered, teeth clenched. “feel how fucking tight she gets when you do that?”

shoko didn’t answer.

she just licked again.

and your body shook.

geto wasn’t thrusting anymore.

he was grinding.

his cock still inside you, deep and hot and so fucking full, but his hips rolled instead of slammed, his pace thick and deliberate — like he was sculpting your pleasure with his body, building it slow so you could feel every inch of what he gave. every pass of his cock dragged over something in you that made your spine curl and your thighs twitch, and the weight of him, the heat of him, the tension just below breaking — it was fucking suffocating in the best way.

you could hear him breathing. every exhale a prayer. every inhale like he was tasting you through the air itself. “you hear yourself, baby?” he murmured, voice barely stable, grinding deeper. “you hear how fucking wet you sound? how messy you are? jesus fucking christ…”

and you could. it was obscene — the wet, slick noise every time he moved inside you, the soft suction of his cock parting your walls, the way your cunt fluttered around him as shoko rubbed your clit and kissed the slick joining of your bodies like she was blessing it.

your mouth was still on her — your tongue still buried between her folds, licking her through the afterglow, drawing out every little tremor her body gave you in return. she twitched every time you circled her clit, hips rolling gently, almost helplessly, but she didn’t move away.

she gave it to you.

shoko’s thighs framed your face, sticky and flushed, and your arms stayed locked around them, holding her down — not just because you needed her, but because she let you. and now, her mouth was moving again — slow, lips parting in gasps, her cheek pressed to geto’s stomach, her forehead against the slick lines of his abs, mouthing the base of his cock where it stretched your pussy wide.

and her voice — her voice was finally wrecked.

“she’s—fuck—she’s still licking me,” she gasped, shuddering as your tongue slipped against her clit again. “i can’t—suguru, she’s not stopping, she’s fucking—”

“don’t make her stop,” geto growled, one hand tightening in shoko’s hair. “fuck, she’s so good like this. let her eat you like you deserve it.”

you moaned into her, a broken, feral sound, your mouth slick with her, your whole body pulsing with heat — and she felt it, the way your moan buzzed into her cunt, and she trembled. her grip on your breast tightened, and she let out this raw, real sound that barely resembled a laugh.

“she’s—god, i think she likes being used like this,” she panted, pressing her fingers harder against your clit now, fast little circles that made your hips buck against geto’s cock. “fuck, baby, you’re dripping—like, pouring, you’re—how are you still so wet—”

geto leaned in then, voice a low rasp at her ear.

“because she wants it.”

his words landed like lightning.

“she wants to be filled again,” he hissed, driving his hips in deeper with that same agonizing slowness. “wants you on her face. wants my cock in her pussy. wants us to take her apart, shoko. over and over.”

“fuck,” shoko breathed, hand jerking slightly between your legs now, thumb catching your clit just right.

and you screamed into her.

not because you came — not yet. but because it was so close now, it was right fucking there — and every word they said, every stroke, every flick of tongue and hand and cock just stacked it higher, made it worse, better, everything. you pulled your mouth away just long enough to choke out, voice slurred and ruined beneath her:

“don’t stop—don’t stop, please—please, i’m—i’m almost there, fuck—”

“we’ve got you,” geto said, kissing your thigh, mouth tender against your shaking skin. “we’re right here, baby. gonna make you feel everything.” shoko was panting again, her hand messy now, dragging through the slick between your folds, smearing it over your clit and back down again, her mouth soft and wet at the base of geto’s cock.

“she’s twitching,” shoko whispered. “suguru—fuck—she’s gonna come.”

“not yet,” he growled, fucking in just a little harder now — still slow, but firm, deep enough to make you see stars, deep enough to make your breath leave you in bursts. you sobbed beneath them, your legs shaking, your pussy gripping him with every slow thrust. “you can take it, baby,” he said, voice molten with praise. “so fucking good for us — mouth open, cunt open, just taking everything.”

you whimpered. body thrumming.

and still — still you hadn’t come. not yet. but the edge was right there. and they weren’t letting you fall. not yet. they were going to hold you at the edge until it was deserved. your entire body was shaking.

legs trembling uncontrollably, arms still locked around shoko’s thighs, mouth open against her cunt, lips wet and swollen, tongue still lapping despite the way your moans kept breaking the rhythm — and above you, they kept going.

shoko’s fingers moved faster now, circling your clit with relentless accuracy, each pass dragging sparks through your nerves like they were wired directly into your spine. she had her whole weight settled against your face, her voice cracking now, no longer smug, just wrecked — gasping your name, cursing under her breath, begging you to keep going even as she ground against your mouth with uneven, desperate rolls of her hips.

“fuck—fuck—baby—your tongue, oh my god—”

and geto — geto was a problem. a sin. a punishment and a reward.

his cock was still deep inside you, every slow, thick thrust making you feel like you were being split in the sweetest, most unbearable way. and he hadn’t lost his rhythm. he never did. his hips snapped forward at just the right angle to drag across everything you needed, his fingers holding your hips open, tilted up just so he could fuck into the deepest part of you.

and he knew.

he could feel it.

the way your cunt clung to him tighter with each pass, the way your thighs twitched, how your breath kept coming in those high, gasping sobs, how you couldn’t even form a word anymore — just sounds. raw, honest, helpless.

“baby,” he panted, sweat dripping down his throat, his hair stuck to his face, voice gone thin, “you’re—fuck, you’re right there, aren’t you? can feel you fucking clenching—so tight, shit, just a little more—shoko, don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—”

shoko moaned. “i’m not—I’m not—she’s so fucking wet, suguru—she’s gushing already—”

“do it, baby,” geto said, thrusting harder now, deeper. “fucking come for us. let it go. let it all out—”

you choked. a soundless scream.

your whole body snapped.

and then — it hit.

your orgasm tore through you like an earthquake — sudden, violent, all-consuming — your back arching off the floor, mouth pulling away from shoko’s cunt with a desperate sob as your body convulsed between them. your legs kicked out, your arms went rigid, and your cunt squeezed around geto’s cock so tight it knocked a guttural moan from his throat.

“fuckfuckfuck—she’s coming—!”

and then—

you squirted.

it burst out of you in a hot, wet gush — sudden and unstoppable, spraying across his cock, down your thighs, splashing against his stomach and pooling under your ass. your whole body jerked with it, hips lifting, stuttering, grinding helplessly as you cried out — loud, high-pitched, fucking ruined.

“oh my god—” shoko gasped, yanking her hand away as wetness drenched her wrist before she move from your face. “she—she fucking squirted—suguru, she—”

geto groaned so loud it echoed. “fuck, that’s it, that’s it, baby—good girl, holy shit, look at that, look at how messy you are—so fucking beautiful—”

your chest heaved, your mouth hung open, hands shaking as you tried to ground yourself — but you couldn’t. your body kept twitching, little aftershocks ripping through your core, pussy still fluttering around geto’s cock, thighs still wet and spread, and the air smelled like heat and sex and you.

shoko leaned over you again, kissed your mouth, slow and messy and open, and whispered against your lips, “that was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

geto was still inside you, still holding you open, voice shaking.

“you okay?” he asked softly, forehead brushing yours. “you with us?”

you nodded — barely. barely.

your voice was wrecked. but your smile was satisfied.

“…fuck.”

and from the look in their eyes, they weren’t done yet.

not even close.

your lungs were still catching up.

your legs had lost the concept of tension.

your mouth was parted, your whole body twitching in these soft, unsteady ripples of after, and yet —

they weren’t letting you go.

shoko had moved behind you like smoke curling under a door, slow and smooth and suddenly there, her bare skin hot against your back, her breath brushing your neck. and before you could fully realize it, her hands were on you — one on your chest, cupping a tit like it belonged to her, the other sliding down your stomach with unhurried purpose.

and geto… he was still inside you.

he hadn’t pulled out, hadn’t stopped moving. his cock was still seated deep in your soaked, fluttering cunt, his hips rolling in lazy, dragging circles that made you clench involuntarily every time he bottomed out — like your body couldn’t decide if it was overstimulated or starving for more. he was warm, panting, his hands bracing on either side of your hips, fingers flexing against your skin like he was grounding himself just to stay in.

“look at you,” he said hoarsely, voice all grit and honey and awe. “still dripping.”

and it was true — your inner thighs were glossy, slick with the aftermath of your last orgasm, the floor beneath you tacky with it, and yet the drag of his cock only made it worse — made it better. you felt too open. too full. and when shoko’s fingers brushed your clit again, featherlight and precise, your whole body twitched forward like someone had pressed a button.

“s-sensitive—” you gasped, barely audible, body jerking instinctively.

“i know,” she said into your neck, kissing just behind your ear. “but that’s the best time, isn’t it?”

you whined — high-pitched and fucked-out — as her fingers dipped lower, sliding through your folds like they were testing the temperature of a pool she already planned to dive into. she circled your clit, slow and measured, drawing soft, spiraling patterns that sent lightning through your belly.

“you’re still so wet,” she murmured, voice low and amused. “so soft. open. fuck, you feel like something blooming.”

geto groaned behind you, voice wrecked. “she’s perfect.”

and then — like it was choreographed — they moved together.

geto’s hips began to thrust with more intention, more pressure, the thick drag of him stroking deeper now, less teasing, more claiming, his cock hitting that spot inside you with brutal accuracy. and shoko’s hand on your pussy didn’t let up — her fingers sliding lower, pressing inside you with his cock, feeling how he moved within you while she curled her touch just right to grind your clit from below.

you cried out — an honest, desperate sound — your body pulled taut again in an instant.

“you’re gonna give us one more,” geto whispered, leaning forward so his forehead met yours. “you’ve got it in you, baby. just one more. come on — let it go for us.”

shoko moaned against your neck, her mouth open, her breath hot as her hand on your tit squeezed harder. “let us see it, baby. let us feel you come again. make a fucking mess.”

and god.

you did.

you shattered.

the pressure coiled so fast it almost hurt — a surge of heat and friction and wet crashing through your body like a wave, and then you came again, harder this time, your cunt seizing around geto’s cock, your hips jerking forward against shoko’s hand as another rush of liquid burst from you — gushing — spraying down over geto’s thighs, soaking your own, a high, keening moan escaping your throat as you lost control completely.

geto’s hands flew to your hips, holding you down as he groaned, voice breaking, and thrust once — twice — and then came inside you, deep, spilling himself with a sound that bordered on worship. his cock twitched inside your soaked, fluttering pussy as your squirt ran down both of you, his come mixing with yours, messy and thick and perfect.

shoko’s arms tightened around your waist, anchoring you, and her mouth kissed your temple, your shoulder, your jaw — little grounding points as your body kept shaking.

“there she is,” she whispered. “look at that. fuck, look at what you gave us.”

geto’s forehead was pressed to your collarbone now, breath hot and uneven, and he was still buried in you, his cock softening slowly in the slick warmth of your cunt.

you didn’t speak.

you couldn’t.

but you smiled.

and you let them hold you there — fucked-out, soaked, trembling — with their hands on your skin and your breath still coming in ragged gasps.

and for now, that was enough.

you didn’t even know you could come like that again.

your whole body was already trembling — pulled taut between geto’s cock driving into you so deep, dragging through your soaked cunt with that thick, deliberate rhythm, and shoko’s fingers slipping tight over your clit, her palm warm against your pussy, her mouth still pressing hot little kisses to your neck like she was winding you back up just to tear you open again.

and you were already wrecked — thighs shaking, breath stuttering, jaw slack — every nerve fried and buzzing, the echo of your last orgasm still burning between your legs like a brand. but they didn’t stop. they wouldn’t stop. not with the way geto’s voice had gone soft and fucked and mean, whispering right against your cheek, hips rolling slow, dragging moans out of you with every push.

“you’re gonna do it again,” he breathed, panting now. “you’re close, baby, i can feel it—she’s twitching, shoko, fuck, she’s already so tight—”

“come on, sweet thing,” shoko murmured behind you, her hand dragging up your stomach to palm your tit again, squeezing like she needed something to ground her. “just one more. let us have it. be good.”

you whimpered — a ragged, high sound — and your legs kicked out a little from the floor, your thighs starting to tremble uncontrollably again.

“fuck,” you gasped, eyes squeezing shut. “fuck, i can’t—i can’t—i’m gonna—”

“yes,” geto growled, fingers digging into your hips. “do it. let it go, baby—let it go for us—”

and then it hit.

your body snapped forward — back arching hard, mouth falling open in a scream you couldn’t hold back — and your cunt clamped down around his cock so tight it felt like you were trying to keep him inside forever. your whole body shuddered, and then —

it spilled out of you.

a burst — no, a flood — soaking everything.

you squirted so hard it splashed audibly against geto’s thighs, sprayed down both your legs, a rush of hot, wet release pulsing out of you in waves, soaking the floor, your thighs, him. it didn’t stop — your body kept pulsing, clenching, jerking — another gush pouring out, and another, until your skin was wet, slick with it, and your voice cracked in a gasping sob.

“oh my god—fuck—i’m squirting, i can’t—i can’t—fuck, fuck—”

“fuck yes,” geto moaned, frantic now, his rhythm faltering, eyes locked on the way you fell apart around him, the way your slick poured down over his cock, milking him, drenching him. “you’re so good, so fucking perfect, oh my god—fuck, i’m—”

and then he snapped too.

his hips slammed deep one last time, hands gripping your waist so tight it left finger-shaped bruises, and he came with a broken, breathless groan — hips twitching, cock pulsing deep inside you, hot ropes of come spilling into your still-spasming cunt, mixing with your slick in a messy, thick flood that made your legs jerk again.

“fuckfuckfuck—i’m coming, baby, i’m coming—so deep, you’re taking it all—jesus fuck, you’re so tight—don’t stop, don’t stop—”

your body was still twitching.

you couldn’t breathe right. your arms had gone weak. your cunt was still pulsing around him, squeezing like you wanted to wring out every last drop of him, and your chest was heaving, your mouth open, spit on your lips, thighs spread and wet and still leaking.

your orgasm hadn’t even ended when he started to come undone.

he was still inside you, deep, buried, the warmth of your pussy wrapped tight around his cock, spasming with each violent aftershock of your release. you’d soaked him — he was dripping, thighs slick from the flood of your squirt, skin sticking to yours as your body jerked and twitched beneath him, helpless and holy and fucking perfect.

and geto was gone.

he was gripping your hips like he didn’t know what else to hold, knuckles white, arms shaking, trying so hard to keep his rhythm — but he couldn’t. he couldn’t stop watching the way you fell apart, the way you cried out, the way your cunt pulled at him like it was begging for every drop he had.

“fuck, baby—fuck—fuuuck,” he gasped, voice climbing a full octave. “you’re—you’re milking me—you’re gonna make me fucking explode—”

shoko was still behind you, one arm around your waist, her hand splayed low across your stomach to hold you in place. she was panting too — from the effort of keeping you upright, from watching the way he broke over you.

geto slammed in deep once — a shuddering, desperate thrust — and froze, his whole body locking up like it couldn’t handle the weight of what was coming.

“oh my god—fuck, i’m—i’m gonna cum—i’m cumming—fuck, fuck, baby—”

and then he did.

his mouth fell open and he cried out — loud, high, helpless — like the sound had been ripped from somewhere inside his chest. his cock throbbed hard inside you, thick pulses that you could feel against your walls, and his come spilled into you in long, hot spurts — so much, too much, filling you until it started to leak out around his cock, dripping down onto the floor already slick with your mess.

“take it—fuck, take it, baby—look at you—taking all of it, holy shit, i can’t—i can’t—oh my god—”

he was moaning through it, voice cracking, hips twitching with each contraction, his head dropping to your shoulder like he’d just run out of strength. every little movement pulled another whimper from him, another twitch of his cock, like your body was still squeezing more from him, not letting go.

you were barely breathing. limp. fucked-out. but god, you could feel it — the way he gave in to you completely, the way his voice broke, the way his body collapsed against yours like you were home.

and in the silence that followed — your heart pounding, his breath shaky against your throat — shoko whispered into your ear, breathless and hoarse: “you broke him.”

and geto, still shaking, still deep inside you, laughed a little. a broken, stunned sound.

“yeah,” he said, voice wrecked. “she did.”

the room was quiet now.

not silent — not completely. the hum of the old AC unit sputtering through the vents, the buzz of the city bleeding in from the balcony, the occasional drip of something onto the floor — maybe sweat, maybe come, maybe just time catching up.

you weren’t moving.

you couldn’t.

your legs were still spread, your body trembling in slow, confused pulses. your cunt was soaked — full of him, leaking from the stretch of geto’s cock still softening inside you, and the mess was a problem that no one seemed interested in solving. you could feel it sliding down your ass, thick and warm, pooling on the floor beneath you, mixing with what you’d already given. and above it all — the heat of shoko’s body, still wrapped around you, her breath damp against the shell of your ear, her hand lazily stroking your stomach like she was grounding you back to earth, one slow touch at a time.

geto hadn’t moved either.

he was slumped against your front, cock still inside, head resting between your breasts, mouth open, breath dragging in long, exhausted pulls like he didn’t know how to recover yet. his hands were on your hips, thumbs absently drawing slow circles into the meat of your skin, like he was still feeling you come — or trying to convince himself it had actually happened.

none of you said anything. not for a while.

and then shoko sighed.

“...we're gonna need to mop.”

you laughed. or tried to. it came out more like a wheeze.

“fuck off,” you mumbled, voice hoarse. “your fault.”

“you’re the one who squirted like a busted pipe,” she muttered, but there was no bite to it. just warmth. she kissed your temple. “you’re also the one who let me sit on your face like it owed me money. so maybe we call it even.”

geto made a soft noise against your chest. something between a laugh and a whimper.

“i think i died,” he murmured.

you tilted your head to glance down at him. his eyes were closed. his hair was stuck to his face. he looked wrecked. gorgeous. “you didn’t die,” you said, softly, fingers brushing through the strands at the back of his head. “you just got fucked like you deserved it.”

he groaned. didn’t even argue.

shoko snorted. “you look like a priest after a very bad exorcism.”

“shoko,” he said, muffled against your skin, “please shut the fuck up.”

you smiled. you couldn’t help it.

and even though your body ached, even though your thighs were sore and your mouth was raw and every part of you was coated in sweat and spit and come — you felt good. warm. surrounded. held. you shifted a little, enough to make geto groan and finally, finally slide out of you with a wet, obscene sound that made you all flinch and laugh at the same time.

“jesus christ,” he mumbled, sitting back on his heels, staring down at your cunt like he’d just watched something sacred happen. “look at you.”

shoko reached around and smacked his chest.

“stop being weird about it,” she said. “we already ruined her. no need to narrate it.”

he held up his hands, mock-surrender. “sorry, sorry. it’s just… beautiful.”

“gross,” she said. “also accurate.”

you exhaled, finally sitting up, wincing as everything shifted inside you, dripping out with gravity. shoko helped, her arms still around your waist, keeping you upright even as your muscles protested. your skin stuck to hers. geto leaned in and kissed your shoulder, then your chest, then your stomach — each one slow, sweet, like thanks. like apology. like devotion.

no one rushed.

no one cleaned up.

you sat there together, sticky and stupid and smiling, soaked in everything you’d done.

“so,” shoko said finally, yawning. “we ordering food, or…?”

you were on the couch now.

well — in the couch, really. sunk so deep into the threadbare cushions that your spine was probably imprinted on the frame. your legs were folded weirdly under you, thighs still sticky, hair still damp with sweat. your body felt like it had been used as a chew toy by god and then left to ferment.

but you were warm. and clothed. sort of.

geto’s shirt — the long, oversized black one that smelled like laundry detergent and weed and boy — hung off you like a flag of victory. nothing underneath. nipples occasionally ghosting against the cotton. thighs on full display. but it didn’t matter. you were fed. or about to be.

the pizza box was open on the coffee table, steam still rising from melted cheese and garlic butter crusts. one slice in your hand. three bites in. you chewed slowly, like every fiber of your soul depended on this exact triangle of bread and grease.

across the room, shoko was on all fours in her sleep shorts and an old tank top, holding a damp towel and grumbling audibly as she wiped the floor near the couch legs. the puddle she was crouched over definitely hadn’t come from spilled water.

geto — completely naked, still glowing like a house spirit who just got laid by a god — was on his knees nearby, using one of his bath towels to blot a dark patch that probably counted as a biological hazard. “shoko,” you said sweetly, mouth full, gesturing toward the corner of the room with your slice. “you missed a spot. right over by the speaker. there’s like… a whole-ass trail.”

her head snapped toward you.

you didn’t even flinch. just took another bite.

“are you kidding me?” she barked, sitting back on her heels and letting the towel fall to the floor with an exaggerated flop. “you’re just sitting there like a little royalty gremlin in his shirt while we mop up the trail of fucking devastation you made?”

you nodded, chewed. swallowed. “mm-hmm.”

“bitch.” she dragged a hand down her face. “you’re the one who squirted like a popped soda can.”

“well,” you said, licking grease off your thumb, “i’m too weak to clean.”

“too weak?”

“i’m sensitive.” you patted your own thigh gently. “my pussy’s still trembling. it’s tragic, really.”

“tragedy would be if i smothered you with this pizza box.”

“shoko,” came geto’s voice, soft and half-laughing from the floor. “let her be.”

he didn’t even look up from where he was scrubbing a mysterious corner with one hand and balancing a slice of pizza in the other. he looked unfairly serene. still naked. still glowing. like post-nut enlightenment had lifted him to a higher plane and now he was just… chill.

“she made the mess,” shoko snapped. “she should clean it.”

“you helped make the mess,” he said calmly, biting his slice. “and i don’t see you complaining when you were riding her face.”

shoko froze. looked back at you. then at him.

“okay,” she said after a beat. “valid.”

you gave her a smug little grin, then groaned and curled sideways on the couch, tucking your legs up and pulling geto’s shirt tighter around your thighs. they“plus, if i try to get up right now, i’ll probably fall over. i’ve got post-orgasm jelly spine. you want me to faint in the puddle?”

“god, you’re insufferable,” she muttered, going back to wiping with a vengeance. “geto, this is your fault.”

“i’m not complaining,” he said, still on his knees, wiping slow, humming under his breath like a man who’d just emptied every ounce of himself into someone he loved. “this was the best kind of crime scene.”

“disgusting,” she said.

“you’re welcome,” you offered from your seat.

shoko wiped aggressively at the corner spot you pointed out, muttering something about bodily fluids and the price of friendship.

geto laughed, low and warm.

you took another bite.

and for a long, sticky moment, everything in that fucked-up apartment was perfect.

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orgasms4mizu · 3 months ago

Text

★ — MATING SEASON

bunny!cait × bunny!fem!reader

cw : caitlyn and reader are hybrids (obviously), heat, amab!cait, top!cait, sub!reader, vaginal sex, breeding kink, overstimulation, too short.

YOU COULDN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE, your body was tired from the many rounds you had with your partner, your poor pussy was already sore and sensitive from the overstimulation. during mating season it was always the same: hours and hours of non-stop sex.

what you didn't know was that caitlyn was also exhausted, her cock couldn't handle cumming so many times anymore, but god, she felt so good to be inside you, your pussy squeezed her so well that she found herself completely addicted.

she thrust into you hard and fast, the tip of her member hitting your g-spot over and over again. her breathing was raspy and matched your loud, sly moans. she takes one of your legs and places it on her shoulder, the new angle giving her the ability to go deeper inside you, even hitting your cervix.

"fuck-" she moans, rolling her eyes as she felt your tired walls clamp down on her sensitive cock. her fluff tail wiggled ecstatically, swinging rapidly from side to side, as did your own.

she looks down, seeing the look of pleasure on your face, your sweaty body, your hair standing on end and your ears hanging low... you looked so beautiful and she could hardly resist. her hand moves to your other leg and places it on her shoulder as well, resuming a fast rhythm that made you scream in pleasure.

"cait—!" you say between loud moans, grabbing the sheets behind you hard enough to pull them off the bed.

caitlyn closes her eyes, moaning as she feels her orgasm coming to her. "oh shit— I'm gonna get you pregnant, put lots of little babies in you" she says, not assimilating what she has just said due to her brain completely melted by pleasure. "It will be s-so beautiful to see you all plump with my babies—" she says and moans, burying her face in your neck as she speeds up her thrusts.

you both moaned loudly and again that day you reached orgasm, your pussy gushing your fluids and caitlyn spurting her cum inside you. you stay there, panting, trying to recover from the twentieth orgasm you had, your body shaking with exhaustion.

however, your rest was far from happening. when you saw, she was turning you to the side, lifting your leg and already inserting herself into you again.

"caitlyn—" you try to protest, your voice coming out in a tired sigh. she just caresses your face, whispering:

"shh...just one more round, please?" she said and then, she started moving inside you again.

★ taglist :: @puptrefied @marvelwomenarehot0 @starrysetup22 @halle5s @chaos1stuff @punishperverts @violateherr @girlkisser168 @l0veylace @flowrsandfruit @hyperbabes @cinnamonmilf @kittensguts @violetscowgirl @littlebluebellsblues @emioiles

#♱ 𝓒aitlyn 𝓚.#— ♱ fics #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn smut #caitlyn kiramman x reader #arcane caitlyn #league of legends caitlyn #arcane #lesbian #sapphic #wlw post #wlw ns/fw

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cybergoth1 · 5 months ago

Note

can you do some Jason Todd as a husband headcannon pls !! i just know that when he’s healed , he’s hauling his partner and getting TF out of Gotham , and popping out babies (GIRLDAD) and a nice job in a low-key town and maybe becomes a househusband 😋🤭(for real i’m 100% sure he would) but at the same time he is The Jason Todd . Hot , mysterious , emotional but also not , a big fat nerd in a brick body .

you know your daddy's home.

pairing: jason todd x fem!reader.

warnings/tags: fluffy, pre established relationship. my silly drabble about raising a daughter with jason todd. girl dad jason todd. husband jason todd.

author's note: hey babe i turned it into a drabble! hope you don't mind it!

"look, mommy! i'm batman!”

you suppressed a chuckle as you watched your five-year-old daughter standing tall on the couch, wearing a paper mask poorly shaped like batman’s cowl. the little girl came home from school, talking non-stop about the vigilant and refusing to take off her paper mask, even during lunch time, excitedly repeating what her teacher had said about nowday heroes.

"gotham needs me!"

she was trying to make her voice deeper as she jumped onto the floor. the cats, startled by the noise on the wooden floor, bolted away in a stampede.

"you're too pretty to be batman, baby girl".

your husband jason said as he stepped out of the bathroom. the scent of soap and shaving lotion lingered in the air as he walked down the hallway in just his sweatpants. his scars seemed more visible, glistening under the light as drops of water trailed down his bare back and chest.

“but how do you know what he looks like? he's always wearing a mask!” her childish voice rang out indignantly.

he picked her up effortlessly with one hand, while the other gently tugged the paper mask aside to look into her bright blue eyes — blue like his had been before the lazarus pit. her nose, mouth and ears were just like yours, a glimpse of you both in her youthful face.

"he sounds ugly, like a very old sad man. unlike you, princess".

"i'm not a princess, i'm vengeance!"

you laughed behind the stove.

"well, vengeance," he said, walking toward the apartment’s kitchen with her tiny legs wrapped around his hips "you can save gotham after eating your vegetables," he added with a smirk, putting her on the high chair.

she looked at him with wide eyes, as if he’d just handed her a death sentence.

"broccoli?"

"broccoli".

you placed the plate of food in front of her, the broccoli standing out between the rice and meat like a tiny, green nightmare. she looked up at you with pleading eyes, silently appealing to your good side.

you stroked her hair gently.

"if you don’t eat, i'll have to tell batman that his sidekick isn’t eating properly. you can't patrol without eating broccoli," he said, pulling out the chair to sit beside her. that was more than enough. with a disgusted expression, she began to eat, occasionally poking at the broccoli.

"hi, jay," you said, placing your hands on his broad shoulders and giving him a light massage. he softly kissed your left hand before looking up at you.

"how’s my other girl doing?" he asked with a smile, his lips still lingering against your hand. your daughter was so focused on hating the broccoli that she didn’t even notice the display of affection. normally, she would’ve made a gagging noise, followed by a dramatic, “bleh!”.

"she's missing you a lot" you said kissing the top of his head. a familiar scent makes you pause for a moment.

"you're using my shampoo again, aren't you?"

"maybe?"

©cybergoth1, 2025

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood x reader #red hood #red hood x y/n #red hood x you #dc comics #dc x y/n #dc x reader #dc imagine #jason todd imagine

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usedpidemo · 3 months ago

Text

Taste (Newjeans/Njz Minji & Danielle)

9k words

—————

No matter how you look at it, one thing is for certain: you’re absolutely screwed.

Aside from having two uninvited guests at your front door this late in the evening, those very same people are, in the company’s words, marked persona non grata. They’re everywhere. They’re a byword. They’re beyond saving. It’s a public relations nightmare for anyone caught in their crossfire. At least that’s what the agency wants you to believe.

All the less reason to trust their intuition when they’re this damn pretty. It’s a convincing guise. Furthermore, you have common ground to stand on: that this is merely a job, that you’re only there for the pay, and nothing else.

So now:

“How’d you end up getting my address?” you ask the girls, knowing full well you never interact with your coworkers, let alone the idols in the building.

“We—” Danielle rolls her eyes in the direction of her partner, Minji, prolonging the word. Smiling, playful, searching for a compelling reason in real time—and failing. “We have our ways.”

Suspicious. This whole situation raises many red flags. But one look at both of them. Drop dead gorgeous. You wouldn’t be surprised if they came here straight after one of their photoshoots, and their makeup gives off a strong indication. If not for your job, you’d let them in, no questions asked. But you’re a bit numb to it—just a little—if not for the fact that you see them at work everyday.

“Can we please come in?” Minji implores you, sounding innocent in contrast to the flirty Danielle. You hardly need any further convincing.

“Sure.”

Without a second thought, you let them walk through the door, and it’s only after they’re inside that you realize: you’re making a huge mistake.

But in the heat of the moment, you reason to yourself that it's a rare occasion; it’s not often you hang out with fellow coworkers after hours, and you’re really stretching that coworker label. Finding excuses to let them in your place.

Minji and Danielle take their seats on the living room couch without even asking, but you allow them. Meanwhile, you’re rushing to the fridge, trying to make do with your leftovers of takeout and canned food you have lying around.

“Don’t worry about us. We’re not hungry,” Minji shouts from the living room, but her plea goes through deaf ears.

“Yeah, we don’t really eat much,” Danielle adds, but it hardly changes anything.

Even from the kitchen, you can hear them mumble in the background, mostly incomprehensible to your ears, even while you’re preoccupied with heating the food in the microwave. Taking a few glances from a distance every now and then, still pretty from afar. Thankfully, they’re busy with each other to catch you snooping. You never expected this. These same idols that appear untouchable and have their own private rooms in the building, that never really take a second glance at everyone else—casually hanging out at your place.

To keep your mind from spinning further away from the consequences, you let the food out as soon the microwave’s timer hits zero. You’re hoping this is a quick and casual visit, but based on what you know so far, with the company’s situation in mind, you sense that they’re here for a specific purpose—and it’s certainly not to make friends.

As you offer the reheated food before them, Minji smiles at you, raising her hand. “We already ate,” she says, smiling respectfully, “But thank you.”

You set it down on the table regardless, knowing they won’t take a bite anyway. It’s the thought that counts.

Taking the couch opposite them, a brief silence fills the room, the tension gradually brewing as neither party is willing to break the silence. Until—

“So,” you mumble, twiddling your thumbs, feeling a lump in your throat, unable to follow through, but you muster up the resolve to speak: “What are you here for?”

The two girls pause, ruminate on their response, on their intent, trying to find a way to sound convincing. You see the pair exchanging brief glances at each other, with Danielle looking more anxious and deferring to Minji to be their mouthpiece. As much as you want to threaten them, you can’t—not when they look like that. A perfect blend of gorgeous and innocent.

So you’ll let them be. Give them all the time in the world if needed. You’re not their corporate overlord, after all. If anything, you’re in the same position as them somewhat, a slave to the system on the outside looking in.

Eventually, Minji opens her mouth. Swallows her throat, pulls on the collar of her shirt. Talking slowly, ensuring every word is emphasized, she says, “I know this might be hard for you to do, since it’s your job and all, but—”

She suddenly second guesses herself, her gaze heading in the direction of the table, unable to face you. Danielle’s been looking at her, and you can tell the exact moment her confidence drops through her body language.

“But?” you say, tone low, in an effort to keep them at ease. Probably not the best sounding or worded, but it’s already done. You already know what she means—hell, you had a slight clue that they wouldn’t be here without cause—but you just need them to say it outright.

“We need sensitive information from HYBE’s documents to get us further in the public’s good graces,” Minji forces herself to speak, trembling, “You know about our situation right? You know how much that company hates us—how they want us to take it, and then they’ll shelf us.”

“Yeah. I mean—you’re no different than us, right?” Danielle tries to empathize, finally turning her eyes on you, twinkling, pretty, “You probably hate this company, too.”

And to be fair, Danielle’s right: you hate HYBE with a burning passion, even when you’re in charge of cleaning all their dirty work. But the NewJeans predicament has turned that hatred up to eleven. There are even days where your overtime extends till the dawn trying to save this company’s ass from themselves and from public scrutiny. It’s a thankless job. You’re fed up, and the only thing keeping you from leaving is how the market everywhere else sucks.

So you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. Help them at the expense of your job, career and future, or refuse, and possibly get caught in the fire when they continue their tirade against the company. Worst case scenario, they win, and HYBE goes under, and you’re left with nothing. Essentially, you’re delaying the inevitable.

Either way, you’re screwed.

And then, you bring up an overlooked point:

“But this is my livelihood,” you tell them, blunt, direct to the point. As much as you’re willing to take that risk, you are also aware of the consequences, and everything else at stake. At the end of the day, you’re still an average joe living off the bare minimum to survive, but Minji and Danielle are millionaires with brand deals, hit songs, and coming from wealthy backgrounds. Most idols in the industry are like that. Their reputation may take a hit, but not their wallets—something you simply can’t endure. “You will be fine regardless, but what’s in it for me? I get nothing from helping you guys.”

Your response leaves them dead silent. You can sense the realization falling on their faces, and the air of defeat in their body language. Unable to look you in the eyes, the two women sit on the couch, every breath deep. Even from across the table, you can feel the weight put on their shoulders. The despair.

If this is their way to draw sympathy, it’s working to an extent. You do feel bad for them. But you’re looking out for yourself, first and foremost.

“We know how that feels, and we’re sorry for asking a lot from you,” Danielle finally speaks, breaking their silence, before pouring herself a glass of water and taking a sip. “But you have to understand, we also need work too. They won’t let us. So we need not only the public’s favor, but also incriminating evidence of workplace malice to force their hand.”

It’s not a convincing enough argument.

“Think of it,” adds Danielle, leaning forward, “You’re not only gonna help us, but also anyone in the future who ends up in this situation too. We can fight against the system.”

And you’re certainly not the hero type.

“Dani, I’m sorry, but I can’t help.” you say, rising from the couch and picking up the food. As you walk back to the kitchen, you add, “My job is far too important to let go that easily. If there’s any other way, I can offer my help, but not at the risk of my livelihood.”

“I know, I know, but we really really need it,” Danielle continues to implore you, persistent and unwilling to accept any other answer than a ‘yes.’ Minji sits beside her, quiet, deep in thought. You’d assume that being the eldest, she’d put a stop to her member’s antics, but no. She’s convinced that there’s no finality in your answer, that you can change your mind with enough begging and pleading. “Please. You help us this one time, we never ask for anything from you ever again.”

She goes on to list a few of the incentives they’ll give, ranging from signed albums and merchandise to free concert tickets which you have no interest in. Add in a positive word to her mentor, but you know damn well that even without this mess, she’s not to be trusted with. You’re struggling, yes, but not desperate.

“Maybe for a few million, I could do it,” you joke, knowing it’s too much, even for them. It’s the greed they mention and condemn in the Bible. Obviously, they don’t react positively to your counter offer.

“Please. Reduce that to a hundred thousand, and maybe we’ll consider it,” Dani remarks, huge emphasis on maybe, and it elicits a light chuckle out of you.

“Like I said, it’s gonna take a lot for me to risk my job. I also understand you’re also trying to work freely, and I hope you can win your case, but I can’t freely give up my only source of income like that.”

“Right, right.”

You can tell they don’t want to be told the same thing over and over. But here they are, repeatedly begging as if they didn’t hear a single thing you said. What else did they expect?

Danielle then looks to her partner, hoping to get something out of her after exerting this much effort to no avail. And then:

“Hey Minji,” she calls to her, before curling her hand in front of her lips, whispering into her ear. By the way her brows rise, a fresh idea has struck her head like lightning. Minji looks at her, not buying it, but as she rattles on, you see her turn more and more convinced at the notion.

Perhaps it’s the fatigue beginning to settle in, but you seemingly catch a quirk and a subtle grin on both women’s lips.

What they’re up to—it’s no good.

“We’re asking: please help us,” Minji appeals to you one more time. “A few hundred thousand you want, right? We’ll each give you a couple so it adds up to a million. All five of us. So you can help your family out and you have bail in case you ever get caught and arrested.”

“Thoughtful offer, but I’ve made up my mind a long time ago,” you tell her, having convinced yourself the deal has fallen through. “It’s getting late,” you say, turning your gaze to the wall clock, approaching midnight. “It’s been nice having you, but I’ll see you guys at work tomorrow and then we can talk about it.”

As you’re about to show them the door, Danielle calls to you, drawing back your attention. “Wait.”

You face them to see Minji taking off her denim jacket, leaving only her cropped shirt and pants, giving you a clearer view at her toned belly. Danielle’s not far off too, wearing a similar fit as Minji, all the way down to the blue jeans, the key difference being her tight, body fitting shirt, emphasizing her chest.

Yeah, they clearly went here fresh off a photoshoot, makeup and all.

“What are you doing?” you ask as Minji tosses her jacket onto the couch.

“We seriously need your help, and we’ll do whatever it takes to get you to help us,” is Danielle’s reply, sultry with a hint of venom laced somewhere. The two women step forward, positioning themselves into a makeshift trap. Of course you’re frozen in place, unable to move as they corner you, seize you with their hands, their gaze traveling up and down your figure. “Don’t you think we look pretty?”

The twosome stroke everywhere—at your hair, at your skin, at your clothes, poking into your most carnal desires. It’s one thing to see beautiful girls like them at your workplace on a daily basis, but up close and like this—their beauty hits harder. Their hands reach down to your pants, squeezing on your balls, forcing a deep grunt from your lips.

“Jesus, fuck—” you moan, tilting your head up, the sensation overwhelming. “Not like this. I can’t.”

Yanking down your pajamas, Minji and Danielle take turns stroking your cock through your boxers. Back and forth, with their hand around wrapping the tent forming in your bulge, both women shooting a passionate gaze through your soul.

Your fight is completely nonexistent.

“Good enough to convince you now?” Danielle says, her breath hot against your skin.

You regain enough lucidity to glare back through the pressure, rasping, “I still need the money though.”

“Of course.”

Suddenly, the two girls release their grip on you, promptly taking a step back, leaving you gasping for air.

“Only after you give us what we want,” Minji demands, crossing her arms, shooting you a confident smirk.

“And what makes you think I’ll do that?” you reply, unconvinced that they will fulfill their end of this bargain.

Minji eyes you, as if expecting that very response, and wiggles her hips like she’s on stage, slowly pulling off her jeans, teasing the slightest hint of underwear before stopping.

“Nice try, but I need your word,” you remark, tilting your head, playfully pouting your lips. “I need to know that you’re not pulling on my leg. That you’ll give everything you promise.”

“Such as?” Danielle asks.

“Your pussy. And the money. I better check my account and see a million there tomorrow.”

“Don’t we look trustworthy enough?” she remarks, feeling slighted at your lack of faith.

“Maybe. For all I know, you just want to run up your pockets with the company’s money,” you tell them, shrugging your shoulders. “And who knows what else that devil is telling you. You seriously don’t need her to be successful. Anyone ever told you that?”

“I’d tell you that you’re out here asking for money like a broke bitch, but hey—since we need your help, I’ll let that slide,” Danielle replies, her grin shifting to more of a scowl. “But because you asked, here.”

She whips out her phone and taps rapidly on the screen before showing you. A transfer of $200,000 from her bank account to yours.

“Trustworthy enough?”

You merely nod in agreement. You’re getting somewhere.

Grinning, she approaches you, her eyes wide open, demanding once more, “Now give us the data.”

Not flinching, you quickly retaliate. “You’re still missing one thing.”

“Only after you give us the data.”

“Only after you give me the honor of fucking you both.”

“Please stop.” Minji steps between you two, her glare pointed at Danielle, taking the role of mediator. “We’ll send the rest tomorrow, so don’t worry. And we know you’ll give us the data after.”

“At least someone gets it,” you remark, smug. This is all new to you.

“Don’t act like we wanted this.” Now it’s Minji’s turn to act condescending, redirecting her gaze in your direction. “You know very well this wasn’t our first plan—or second–or third.”

“I know.” Your hands are already pushing down on your pajamas, leaving only your boxers and the evident bulge behind it, suffocating, desperate to be freed.

—————

“Show us your bedroom,” is their command, straight and to the point. A request you’ll never decline, not in any universe. By the time you lead the two girls there, all their clothes are on the floor, making a trail of their tracks. They don’t give you the opportunity to watch them undress, and to be fair, it’s completely all on you—so focused on the future, that you never look at what’s right ahead.

Nevertheless, even under a dimly lit room, you mark their svelte figures, their fine, tangible curves. Divinely made, as if they were created by the gods themselves.

“God,” you comment, eyes wide, in awe of their bodies, your mouth watering, starstruck. Any compliment, no matter how small, serves to stroke their ego. It’s all over their lips—their taunting, playful smirks. Minji’s sweet bearing can’t hide that. The need for praise and attention never grows repetitive. Like they were born for it.

“If you’re gonna stare there and just watch,” teases Danielle, as both girls walk past you and toward the bed, continuing to goad you. “We wouldn’t mind that.”

Your brain hard resets itself, and you eventually catch on. Turning around, Minji and Danielle are standing on opposite ends of your bed, examining, testing to see if it can shoulder the weight of you three together. At least that’s what you think.

“So—not even gonna finish the job, huh?” you say, referring to your boxers and the way they handled your balls a while back.

“Wasn’t part of the agreement,” is her reply, direct, laughing. “Could have said: ‘I want your pussy, your mouth, and the money,’ but it seems like you need the money more than anything.”

And God damn it, they got you. Again.

“But since I’m in a giving mood today,” Danielle continues, sauntering toward you, slow, seductive, flattering, until her breath is hot against your skin once more. You feel it again: the measure of her hand on your balls, the grip of her fingers piercing through the thin fabric, tight and suffocating. Turning her gaze to Minji, gesturing with her eyes to follow.

The sensation renders you helpless, but that’s only Danielle. Add in Minji’s fingers, the tug of those damned briefs down your legs, leaving you at your barest—and sure enough, you’re drowning. So hot to the touch, so overwhelming to the senses, like you’re breathing in nothing but nitrogen. Tilting your head up, moaning like that’s the only thing you can do—and that’s exactly it: you can only voice out your pleasure through this madness.

“Feels good, right? Never had girls do this to you before?” Danielle never lets up, continues her assault on your senses and your life like it’s a form of personal revenge. You’re too preoccupied with their touch to catch their satisfied expressions, only in brief, flashing blurs. You don’t even acknowledge how they’ve added a few kisses here and there on your collarbones and shoulders, all while taking turns to fondle your balls and stroke your cock.

As if you weren’t already in the gutter, it gets worse.

Dropping to their knees, their lips kiss the tip of your cock, and Christ. It demands your entire resolve not to come undone right then and there. You’re biting on your lower lip, sighing deeply and holding your breath, doing everything in your power to not buckle underneath all the pressure building and building. All it takes is a little spark to create fire. There’s no stopping it; you can only hope to contain it for as long as humanly possible.

And that’s just the initial contact.

A brief glance at what’s beneath and behold: it’s imagery straight out of your deepest fantasies. There’s no other way to spin it; it’s pornographic. Minji and Danielle down on their knees, taking opposite ends before your cock, their fingers wrapped around your base and on your balls, with your hands gripped on their scalp, on their long, dark locks. Soft hums and little kiss sounds coming from below fill the room and satisfy your ears. The control is nonexistent; in reality, it’s them who are having their way with you, setting pace, constantly putting you on the backfoot with little resistance on your end.

And to be quite honest, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

They know what makes you tick. What gets you to fold. What pushes you to give out.

Bobbing their heads back and forth, kissing up your length, slowly but surely covering your cock in their spit, determined to make you crumble. Demanding your attention, demanding your all. They have you exactly where they want.

“Yes, God, fuck yes—fuck—so fucking good—” you sputter, hanging your jaw wide, your vision dulling, utterly in awe at how natural they both are at giving head. Like this is far from their first go-around, like this is routine. It helps that their lips are shaped in a manner meant to fit cock.

Like they’re meant for you.

Their breath lingers on your skin, sends shivers down your spine. A hint of satisfaction at hearing you moan and give them their due praise.

Slurping deliciously on your shaft, Danielle pushes herself ahead of Minji, her nose brushing against your groin, taking you deep into her throat. She gags—chokes—on your cock; a little too much too soon. Her partner slowly draws her back, but Danielle slaps her hand away, refusing to quit like it’s a vice, like she can’t live without it.

Sucking, licking, tasting every inch of your cock, leaving you short of breath.

It was never a surprise that Danielle was the needy one. Even before tonight, she looked natural for the part.

Eventually, she does concede and pulls out regretfully, equally as overwhelmed as you are. Spit fills the sides of her lips, dashed with your precum. Minji looks at her with disgust; this wasn’t part of the plan.

The mischievous girl she is, Danielle taunts her with a wordless gesture before giving way, implying that she’s better at giving head, inciting a little competition.

Shaking her head as she inches toward your cock, Minji takes some time to apologize: “Sorry about Dani. She can be—a little too much. Even for us.”

To say Danielle is a little too much would be underselling it—she’s the devil incarnate.

But back to the matter at hand. Minji is much more gentle at taking you in. Still that’s a hilariously low bar, because she, too, can’t help but shove your cock deep in her throat after a little taste.

And your perception of Minji gets flipped on its head. She grabs your thighs like she were to fall if she lets go. You can see the effort; her suction is stronger, her cheeks are hollowing out, and the determination on her brows. She’s taken Danielle’s challenge personally. At this point, the original goal has been completely lost in the shuffle.

Minji meets your eyes while your cock is comfortably lodged deep down her throat. Humming a saccharine melody, mouthing incomprehensible jargon, seeking your approval.

By the glint in her eyes—she won’t take no for an answer.

All you can do is endure, hold on a few minutes longer, perhaps more—mind, body, and spirit willing. You’re dangerously close to falling apart. Her mouth is an inescapable prison; torturing your senses with unbelievable amounts of ecstasy. You can only wonder how you’re still standing after this much pleasure in the form of sensory punishment.

She’s daring you to say the magic words. You can’t take it any longer.

So you yield.

“Gonna cum, gonna fucking cum—” Before the pleasure becomes overwhelming to form coherent speech.

In response, Minji graciously pulls out, but not without inflicting a little more torment. She releases her grip on your cock with a satisfying, neuron activating pop from her now stained lips. Still, you have no time to catch your breath as they’re back onto you as quickly as they retreat, their fingers coiling around your base, stroking you hard and fast over the edge without restraint.

“Cum for us,” you hear their demand, their shaky breaths making your cock throb beyond control. “Cum all over our faces.”

And who wouldn’t?

You’re thrusting wildly at air, having quietly accepted the inevitable. There’s relief in knowing how fucked you are regardless. It makes letting go all the easier.

Body trembling, legs wobbling, stomach churning. Cumming.

Spilling into the void, your eyes completely slammed shut, unable to bear the pleasure any longer.

Minji and Danielle are waiting at the other side. Taking every pulse, streak, rope of your cum with their greedy mouths wide open, tongues sticking out. You’re doing exactly what they want, using their faces as a canvas, making them an outlet for your lust. The gushing sensation burns every fiber in your loins, breaking you down until you’re milked completely dry.

The aftershocks linger long after.

When you regain a semblance of clarity, you’re greeted by a pair of mischievous and triumphant smiles. Minji and Danielle are presenting your own handiwork: their faces completely covered in your cum, dripping down their lips and chin. Tongues swiping their wet lips clean, happily drinking you all up.

The image is permanently seared into your memory. You can never look at them the same way after this.

And they stay there, grinning from ear to ear. On the floor, letting you soak it all in. How you’ve ruined their faces and reputation. How you’ll eventually ruin yours. Behind the friendly facade, they’re no better than anyone else—willing to throw everything on the line for even a slight competitive advantage.

You can’t get over the fact that you’ve committed what’s essentially sacrilege. Never mind their current predicament; this can be its own scandal.

Before you can fully make sense of everything, the pair break their silence. Their eyes linger on yours. One after the other:

“You taste so good.”

It doesn’t sound playful or teasing in any way. It’s a sincere compliment, and that’s what makes your heart flutter.

And then your body gives out. Instinctively falls back onto the edge of the mattress. Laying down comes second nature. It had been a long day, and Minji and Danielle more than left you completely spent. Any other circumstance, it would be easy to call it a night.

But there’s still work left to do, and the girls will make you hear it.

“Hey, you’re not done, are you?” Minji’s already on her feet, hitting your ribs, keeping you from falling unconscious. “You still owe us your end of our deal.”

Looking at her through lidded eyes, your response comes out slurred, as though you came home hammered after five drinks. Only one word is clear: “—Laptop.”

Minji hears you, tells Danielle to search for your laptop before returning her attention. “Where?”

“Living room. At my desk.”

Minji straddles herself on your lap as she gives Danielle the command. You’re preoccupied by the lovely sight hovering atop you to notice the loud yelp that rips throughout the apartment, followed by a choir of apologies from a whiny, low voice. You can only hope that your neighbors don’t knock; you can only deal with two uninvited visitors at this time.

“Sorry. I—I tripped over a loose wire and almost landed on the TV. Oops.” Danielle returns to the bedroom with your laptop in hand, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Lean back,” is Minji’s command, and you effortlessly comply. Even with her ass resting on your lap, she’s as light as a feather, letting you wiggle back onto the headrest with little difficulty.

Danielle joins you two in bed, resting the laptop on your bare chest. Then Minji clambers over to the side opposite her member, lifting the screen. “We did our part. Now do yours.”

You give Minji a tired, thousand-yard stare. As if telling her, ‘Really?’ after what transpired moments ago. She reciprocates the sentiment. No words necessary.

In a few ways, she reminds you of your boss. Only she’s way younger, hotter, and kinder sounding.

With a deep sigh, you fire up the laptop as the members lean over to make sure you follow through. A few clicks here, a password there, entered one letter at a time, and you’re inside the classified data storage like they wanted. Thousands upon thousands of sensitive folders, files, and documents—they have no idea where to start.

“All of them. Send all of those,” Danielle demands, in a rush.

Pausing, you give Dani a frustrated glare, also telling her ‘Really?’ with your raised eyebrows.

“We don’t need all of that, Dani.” Minji’s eyes laser in on a specific file reading Competition. Pointing at it, she says, “Send this one. That one looks interesting.”

Even though you’re responsible for data security, you are as clueless to everything as the idols are. You don’t even have access to the executive floor where all the corporate shit is involved, nor do you have entry to where the idols stay. Your job is to keep data stored and hidden from the public, no questions asked. But you click anyway, following along without hesitation, ignoring the possible consequences.

It’s far too late to renege.

“Can’t believe I’m willingly doing this shit for the devil,” you comment, knowing where this information will eventually end up. It’s akin to selling your soul. You’re starting to regret everything.

Minji has a suggestion. “How about you send it to our emails instead?”

“Still gonna end up with her. I’ll just drop it anonymously on the internet. I don’t care anymore.”

So you log in to your private job forum account on a site where frustrated workers can vent frustrations about their companies. There had been a fair share of ex-employees airing out their grievances against the agency, most of which are buried by obvious bots and snitches.

There’s no burying what’s gonna come out now.

Typing up a simple paragraph, attaching the entire folder full of documents, carrying all sorts of information about who knows what.

With a deep breath, you hit Post, and may God have mercy on your soul.

You close the laptop, but Pandora’s box has been opened.

Now it’s all on them.

The reward is worth the trouble, at least at the moment. Minji and Danielle each plant a peck on your respective cheek for doing the deed. Smiling after the kiss, gently caressing your hair, mumbling: “Thank you. Really.”

You merely shrug, as if you’ve set off a devastating bomb with world-shattering consequences.

Danielle removes the laptop off your chest, setting it aside by your bedside shelf. “So, what now? Which one of us do you wanna take first?”

And perhaps you need it—need the adrenaline of Minji and Danielle getting fucked, ruined to bits. Something to clear your mind from what’s to come.

In the midst of the anxious calm, Danielle finds new ways to break tension. Her stomach rumbles loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. Minji laughs—heartily.

It’s enough to get a light chuckle out of you too. Their charm comes off as natural.

“Scratch that. Minji, you go on ahead,” she quips, before rolling out of bed and limping straight to the kitchen for a bite.

Never mind that she didn’t ask you about what’s available, or that you’ve even allowed her to take from the fridge, or that the food you offered them has gone cold.

“You heard her,” Minji says, pressing her hands on your chest, rolling herself back, your cock inches away from her ass. “Sit back and relax. Don’t have to do anything.”

Slowly but surely, Minji adjusts, demanding your attention stay on her face. Her glow, her beauty is undeniable. It’s in the little things. The light brush of her hair. The tiny scratches she’s leaving on your skin. The small, gentle air kisses. The anticipation gradually builds as you feel your cock hardening once more. Perfectly devised, all done purposefully to keep you on edge.

“Gonna let you in me now,” she murmurs, descending onto your shaft, the pressure of her fingers deepening on your skin, keeping her eyes on you. Your breath hitches, like time has come to a complete standstill, the suspense at its apex, and then—

“Oh fuck!”

The words may be delivered light and airy, but they rip through your ears like thunder. Burying herself to the hilt, Minji crumbles almost instantly, body fidgeting uncontrollably. Her jaw slacks wide, eyes slam shut, her mind overridden with the sensation of your cock deep in her pussy.

On your end, you let out a deep groan, the only feeling registering in your mind being: Wet. Minji’s so goddamn wet.

“So big—so fucking big—” Minji whines, choked up, her fingers pressing deep into your skin like she’s trying to tear you to shreds. Unable to move, it’s evident that she’s still new to this, new to the feeling of your cock.

It’s not intentional, but her face is melding into something pornographic. Such a sweet and pure looking girl, fragile and delicate to the touch, shattering to pieces.

Her pussy is anything but pure.

“Christ—Minji—so fucking—” you mutter, gasping for breath as your hands claim rest on her waist. The last word in your sentence finds itself stuck on the edge of your tongue, but your little resolve lets it fight its way through: “Tight.”

That one word seems to light a fire in Minji’s soul, because she begins to move. Dragging her hips upward, the suffocating pull of your cock unwilling to let go of her cunt, the musical squelch. Your shaft reappears for a moment, covered in her slick, coated in her nectar, before it falls back into its rightful place inside her. She crashes onto you again, and the sensation hits as hard as the first time.

Minji drops her head low. Lets out a grunt. A single thrust and she’s already fighting for dear life. Her features are morphing erratically, all muddled and incapable of remaining still. Her abs tense, that already lean figure shrinking more than physically possible, but she’s not done. Gritting her teeth, your cock sends her head in a tailspin, driving her crazy.

“Have I ever told you how fucking big your cock is?” she asks, like it didn’t register in your brain the first time. Hearing it from her saccharine voice never grows tiresome.

“Nope. Not at all,” you joke, which she spurns with a shake of her head.

“God, it feels so fucking right,” she remarks, and you share the sentiment. Like you’re meant for each other.

Perfectly positioned and angled inside Minji’s cunt, you’re more than happy to sit there and stay in her warmth all night long. Let her figure her way out. Instead, you guide her through, giving her torrid, deep strokes. Hands roam the curves of her svelte figure, admiring her at her most vulnerable. Even when she looks fucked like this, she’s still flawless.

Though her breaths are shaky, Minji gathers her bearings and paces along. Slow and steady, her hips rising and falling onto you like waves, sending ripples through your body below. Everything is falling into place. It’s euphoric. She’s got her head held high; you’re holding her like she’s your grandest prize.

Composed, calm, certain—Minji follows the beat of your drum. It’s finally sinking in. How truly sweet it feels.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Spearing, thrusting into her, your bodies crashing into each other, filling your ears with a chorus of dry, airy moans, backed with the wet sounds of skin against skin. Your breaths hitching, bouncing around the bedroom, spilling out into the rest of the apartment. At this moment, it’s only you and Minji, making the most of what little time you have left.

Minji bounces on you. Tits, ass, her body naturally falling into your grasp. As quickly as she recaptures it, her composure is falling apart. You have a hand on her cheek, squeezing yourself a handful of flesh before giving it a playful slap. She yelps, but she pushes on. Demands you keep going. That you use every inch of her.

“Harder—harder—harder—”

An easy command that’s easier to follow.

You oblige, being given the green light to Minji’s shapely ass. Back and forth, giving each cheek a vicious barrage of spanks till her skin is marked red with your handprints. Her voice goes hoarse with every whine, every mewl, every moan. Asking for more punishment, because she knows she can take it all. Body clenching, her pussy fucked beyond repair.

Gasping, trembling, her pace has spiralled out of control, riding you in fast intervals, giving you no room to breathe.

“Cum for me,” she rasps, hips gyrating quickly, her nails leaving deeper scratches on your flesh, drawing a dash of blood. “Cum in me, please.”

“You first,” is your counter, knowing you have each other’s bodies read like a book. You’re reaching your breaking point a second time. “Cum all over this cock.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” A simple chant, but the most satisfying one to hear. You’ve never heard her this excited, this eager, that her body naturally follows. “God—I’m gonna fucking cum so hard—”

Pushing deep into her, exerting more effort than she’d led you to believe. Your bodies working together to reach that climax. Her wispy moans turning to shouts, cries of overwhelming pleasure, refusing to dash the brakes, willing to run herself into the ground to chase that conceivable high.

It rips through her body. Breaks her clean in half.

Her head rolled back, locked in place. Your hands gripped on her waist once more, keeping her steady. Still delivering punishing strokes as Minji cums over your cock. Burning through your nerves, dragging you down with her.

You repay the favor, joining her in blissful climax moments later. Unloading into her cunt as it pulses, milks you dry again, resting your head on the headrest. Squeezing into her creamy flesh, letting Minji fall into your arms. Like it was destiny, your lips catch hers in a deep, passionate kiss.

You feel her. The aftershocks of her orgasm. Her body giving out this time, her hands clutching into an embrace, her breath against your skin. Still embedded inside her, even as the fire dies down, taking it slow, unwilling to leave the warmth of her core. Leaking onto your sheets, leaving a permanent stain on your bed.

“Minji,” you gently shake, keeping her awake. She laughs into your chest.

Staring at you with glossy, half-lidded eyes, her words reduced to a silent whisper. A fitting tone. “Still have Dani to go,” she reminds, more of a warning than a cause for celebration. Thankfully, she hasn’t reemerged from the kitchen.

“Right.”

“Need any advice on how to handle her?” she asks, like you’re about to tame a wild beast. You can only imagine how wild Danielle is.

Your hand traces circles on her back, fondles vast waves of raven silk. “Every little tip counts.”

“Just—” Minji lifts her head softly, breathing into your neck. “Fuck her like an animal. Make her scream. That’ll shut her up.”

Considering the damage Minji did to you—and she’s the gentler one—Danielle might be on a whole other level.

And speak of the devil: Danielle’s voice fills the room, boisterous and whimsy. In the time when you and Minji were fucking each other’s brains out, she regained the pep in her step—and her attitude.

“You two were fucking like animals,” she remarks, flopping onto the bed, smiling from ear to ear. As if she had overheard everything, and to be fair—you might have caused a ruckus worthy of a noise complaint. “Got me thinking, ‘Damn.’ I should have stayed put. Got me wet imagining what you were doing.”

Not a single mention of what she’s eaten from your fridge or the thought of compensation.

“My turn, girl.” Danielle gestures to her exhausted companion, her patience instantly flipping like a light switch. She gives her only one warning before forcefully pushing her to the side, taking her place on your lap. “What did Minji do, hm? Rode you? Used you like a bar of soap?

She takes a look at the stain between her legs, the sticky puddle around your groin. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.

“Can’t blame her. Always loves to flaunt that ass of hers.”

There’s a tinge of jealousy in Danielle’s tone, uncaring that she can still hear her clearly.

“But since she let you sit back and do nothing, I’m gonna make you work for it now.”

Danielle spins around, presenting her petite ass and soaked, throbbing pussy for you in clear view. She’s on her fours, thrusting, pushing forward, pretending to fuck herself on your cock, causing the bed to shake.

Giving you a preview of how exactly to ruin her.

If you weren’t still completely spent from Minji, your feral impulses would demand that you rush in and lay your hands on her tight figure.

But no—even the simple act of leaning forward proves to be an immense struggle. You’re still reeling, slowly recovering from all the aftershocks. Two vicious orgasms haven’t been kind to your body in any form whatsoever.

Looking over her shoulder, hair falling directly right in her face, Danielle taunts you. “Can’t handle it, babe? Such a damn shame. I was looking forward to having that big cock of yours fill my pussy up.”

Like a corpse rising from the grave, your hand suddenly grabs her ass, catching her completely unprepared. Her mouth drops wide, playful and animated, as if it were part of the act. It’s what Danielle’s best at: pushing your buttons, setting you off, bringing out your worst.

“Did I say something to wake you up, tough guy?” Danielle continues to run her tongue, daring you to stop holding back. A little more and it’s not gonna end well for her. “Is it the fact that you can’t handle this pussy?”

Right then and there, a vicious slap echoes through the room, followed by an equally loud cry. Her cheek turning sore and bright red in an instant.

You and Danielle stare directly into each other’s eyes, caught up in the heat of the moment. Time comes to a complete standstill.

And then, she starts laughing. Uncontrollably.

Shaking her head in disbelief, brimming with delight. “I knew you had it in you.”

Her erratic change in attitude leaves you baffled. Trying to make sense of her right now won’t do you any good, nor is it worth exerting any level of effort. All you can do is watch and expect the unexpected.

“Slow learner, huh?” Danielle says, as if that’s gonna help you understand even a little. “If I hadn’t made it any more obvious, I want you to fuck me. Use me. Run me to the ground. Fuck me till I can’t walk.”

Of course you knew what she meant all along. Minji warned you beforehand. It’s just that you’re a simpler guy. She wants you to wreck her—that’s easier to follow than this roundabout nonsense.

That being said, she’s wiggling her ass before you, your hand spreading her core a tad wider. Her smaller hole and cunt glisten, gleam in the dark full of sheen. “I did you the service of lubing myself while you were busy.”

All the more to keep you from struggling. She may be a loud mouth, but she can be sensible and considerate.

Danielle’s gaze lingers, anticipating your response. There’s a little pressure to follow through and deliver on her wants. Your cock is starting to harden, ready for another round.

But you’re not there just yet.

Instead, you plant your other hand over her scalp, face her away, disgusted by her bratty face while you work. Your lower body has regained enough strength for you to climb behind her, inching close to her ear.

And with four simple words, each and every one delivered with dire importance, Danielle’s world is absolutely rocked.

“My bedroom, my rules.”

Instinctively, Danielle moans. She trembles, straightening her back as you line up your hand to give her a second smack on her sore cheek, filling the room with her cry. Minji joins you from behind, positioned over your ear to guide you through the pleasure and the process, when really, she’s only there to watch you humble her fellow member.

And you don’t give it to Danielle right away; she’s undeserving of the immediate reward.

Diving head first into her slick core, your tongue straightens her cunt, laps up her nectar, making her quiver.

“Ah—oh my fuck—”

Sloppy and straightforward, you slip your tongue into the crevice of her heat, kissing her pretty pussy, leaving Danielle a moaning mess. She’s gushing—mewling—about the discomfort, the pain, the pleasure you’re imposing on her, leaving her wanting more.

Minji calls it while you’re buried in her member’s cunt, flexing and pulsing against your tongue. Draining every little drop you can from her throbbing core. Danielle can only brace for comfort, if there’s even any, gripped to the sheets, in dire need for cock, fiending like it were a vice.

You continue to bring the pressure. Your hands coiling around her thighs, spreading them ever so wide, addicted to the taste of slick, filling your dry mouth like it were water in the desert. She’s panting, desperately seeking oxygen, losing her mind, her vision. She can only pray that the teasing will end.

Unfortunately for her, you’re not a merciful god.

Without care or concern, you stick your tongue deep into her cunt, mark her pussy like she’s yours, suck up all the cum you can take without remorse or consequence. It fucks up Danielle like crazy. A second or two longer and she would have shattered into a million pieces. If she crashes and burns before you give her what she wants, then so be it.

Once you’ve had your share of her slick, you pull back—but not without giving yourself one more sampling. The music Danielle makes from her lips is something else. A mix of moans and obscenities in every tone imaginable.

You have to remind yourself that your tongue isn’t the end goal; your load is. Yet you can’t help but slide a finger to grab another helping. This is the greed they condemn in the Bible.

Offering your soiled digit to Minji, she politely declines with a shake of her head, whispering that she has it on the regular. Some people are just insanely blessed.

But back to Danielle, she’s trembling all over, on the verge of collapsing onto the sheets. She’s under the impression that she can’t give in without your permission, and good on her for recognizing your authority over her.

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” you tell her, stroking your cock inches away from her glistening cunt, rubbing your tip against her inner thigh, not giving her a second to relax. “You’re gonna regret saying all that shit to me when we’re done.”

Danielle’s already apologizing, frantically shaking her head, expecting the worst.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry,” she begs, like that’s gonna change the past, or the outcome. It��s too late for that.

You push your hips forward, and God—you swear your ears are gonna burst from Danielle’s endless groan.

Thanks to how soaked her core is, even before your tongue, you effortlessly glide into her cunt and impale her to the womb. Breathless, asphyxiating, overwhelming. You feel every bit of her pulsing against your cock. The grip proves to be too much. Hands around her airtight waist, your abs tensing as you take her from behind in a picture perfect moment.

And you stay there, let the sensation wash over, give it time to fully register. To keep your head sane, your fingers trail to her taut, sensitive nipples, giving them a flick and a pinch, playing a cruel game with her patience.

“Oh my God—” Danielle whines, lowering her head, just bearing the full brunt of your weight pressing over her. To her credit, she’s holding up well. “Give it to me—fuck that big fucking cock into me already—”

The more she begs, the less you’re willing to comply. Languid, painstakingly slow, agonizing. That’s how you draw your cock back, even with the smooth glide of her warmth, like you’re removing a stake from her heart, leaving her to die before you thrust right back in.

You can’t help but crack a smile, taking grip of her hair, turning it into a makeshift leash to angle her head.

“You’re so fucking tight, Dani,” you mumble against her ear, your hot breath driving her wild.

Before she can say a word, you deny her the respite, fucking her to pieces, reducing the helpless woman to a heap of tears, moans, and curses.

Pounding into her cunt, letting your bodies do all the talking. There’s hardly a need to speak. The room fills with the sound of skin slapping skin, Danielle’s tireless, lewd sounds, and your groans. The bed quaking along with your pace adds to the immersion. You’re willing to end the world just to break Dani in half.

Again and again, continuing to fan the flames, your breaths matching your thrusts. Losing yourself in the madness of Danielle’s tight, suffocating cunt. She’s encouraging you to keep going. Minji joins too. Echoing, reinforcing all these twisted ideas in your head. Don’t fucking stop. As if you had any intention to quit. When you have a pussy this fucking good, this thoroughly stretched out—

You can’t get enough.

But even your body has limits. You can only hang on for so long. It’s beyond your control now; you’ll eventually be consumed by the very fire you started. Trapped between her legs, it’s heaven and hell all at once.

“Dani—I’m almost there—”

You’re throwing it out there to the wind, expecting a playful response, a desperate demand, a call to action. Instead, you’re met with the usual: her airy moans. She’s completely lost in her own bliss, shaking, bouncing with every thrust, unable to register a single word, only cock.

It’s a strange yet beautiful sight; Danielle as your personal cocksleeve, freely used as an outlet for your pleasure.

With your brain turning to mindless mush, her pussy milks your cock for your worth. Draining every last drop, blasting specks and eventually blanks into her tight hole till it’s gushing from her cunt. Slick mixed with her juices, spilling down her legs and onto sheets, beyond the point of repair.

No time to let the satisfaction sink in. Pleasure turns to relief almost immediately. There’s no celebration nor comfort. You’re hanging on by a thread. Sinking back onto the headrest, your vision blurring, the image of Danielle’s pussy throbbing—leaking—as her body crouches down in a pool of your cum, still on her fours. From screaming her heart out, being an insufferable brat, reduced to an absolute, irredeemable mess.

Minji crawls over to Danielle, slowly guides her beside you, reassuring her that you’ve fucked her senseless. It’s the understatement of the century.

“Stay here,” you tell Minji, using the dying sliver of energy you have left as your world gradually fades to black. Leaving her with a soft smile, you lay down and finally call it a night.

The last thing you feel is the wrap of an arm over your chest. Then another. And finally, a faint whisper, followed a soft peck:

“Goodnight, sweet prince.”

—————

Unsurprisingly, when you wake up, there’s not a trace of them to be found in the morning.

Check your clock and you’re already 30 minutes behind. Sun’s already bright and overhead, so you rush through your morning routine to be at work like normal. When you get there, you’re already an hour and a half late. You can blame the morning traffic for that. But tardiness is the least of your concerns.

Overnight, the company is scrambling—even more than normal. A look at the TV screens and it’s oh so easy to figure why. It’s all over the news and social media: a high data security breach seemingly exposing the company’s media manipulation, countless backhanded statements and remarks about rival companies and various idol name drops. So much negative press that has led to calls about a deep investigation into the entire operation.

You can only wonder as to how this all happened.

And then you see them. All five together, including the same two girls you fucked the night before.

As they step into one of the lifts with their staff, Minji and Danielle are the last to enter, catching you even from a distance with a smile and playful wink before they disappear from view.

Before you can even react, your attention is drawn by a much less welcoming presence. A harsh voice calls your name as she walks past you and towards the elevators, carrying with her a reminder of the consequences:

“Come see me in my office. Let’s talk about the data breach.”

Time to put those newly acquired million dollars to good use.

————— (A/N: Thank you for the commission! Always wanted to write NewJeans/NJZ again, especially Minji, but never had an idea. Excited for their redebut, here's praying everything works out for them. Thank you for reading!)

#kpop smut #njz smut #minji smut #danielle smut #newjeans smut

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taebinlvr · 15 days ago

Text

— centimeters

summary : as your game night with the boys reached an unusual peak in boredom, huening kai suggests a few rounds of the pepero game to get the dopamine pumping. however, what kai didn't consider was the several-month long crush that you had on soobin, and what you didn't consider was the fact that soobin would choose you as his partner. at the end of the night, when the tension is suffocating you and your mind is swirling with "what-if's," soobin offers to give you a ride home. you accept, not realizing in the moment just how mutual that tension was. pairing : choi soobin x fem!reader genre: friends to lovers, mutual pining, non-idol au, smut, fluff wc : 7.8k warnings : pwp (like 50-50), unprotected sex, oral + fingering (f receiving), some pet names (baby, honey), multiple orgasms, creampie, both reader and soobin are really horny but especially soobin <3

a/n : i haven't written smut in literal years so this was purely driven by how whipped i am for choi soobin <3 inspired by txt playing the pepero game bc it's been on my mind ever since that vid dropped. never been so jealous in my life. txt masterlist .

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“how about the pepero game?” kai suggested, earning varying kinds of stares from the group.

for the last ten minutes or so, you and the boys had been bickering in kai’s living room about which game was next to tackle on your game night list.

you had already exhausted all the games kai had on his switch, as well as almost half the board games he found tucked away under his bed. you were on a roll, and had no means of stopping quite yet; but there was no remaining game that anyone could agree was exciting enough to satisfy your boredom.

that was until kai piped up amongst the chatter, anyway. taehyun gave him a blatantly disgusted look, his brows furrowed and his eyes widened slightly, while yeonjun and beomgyu immediately jumped at the idea with loud agreements and wide smiles. they had gotten a few drinks in them by now, it was only a matter of time before they got reckless.

you, however, were nervous. the point of the pepero game was to make the stick as short as possible, but the real reason people played it was just to see how close two people could get to kissing. that wasn’t exactly what made you so nervous, the thought of a near-kiss actually didn’t phase you. you saw your relationship with the guys as entirely platonic, nothing more than friends – at least, for all but one of them.

a few months ago you started developing some sort of feelings for soobin, a tall, handsome, and sweet character, and it’s only been growing and festering ever since. it started with small fleeting moments of adoration, just letting your gaze linger for an extra second or smiling softly when he entered a room.

you realized you might have felt something real for him when you anxiously wanted to be around him, even though your heart would pound if you got too close. eventually he became all you could think about, your thoughts filled with fantasies of what it would be like to feel his embrace, his lips on yours. to feel his one of his large hands on your hips, the other wrapped so firmly around your neck.

god. that’s why you were nervous – even with the slimmest chance that the two of you would be paired together, what would you even do? how were you supposed to control yourself?

you laughed along with the guys for now, but your gaze quietly shifted over to soobin, sitting quietly on the other side of the room.

your heart jumped.

your eyes met, and neither of you looked away.

at first, you were just testing him; trying to figure out if it was just a coincidence or you had caught him staring. you got your answer when his dark eyes didn’t flinch when you looked at him, his expression calm and composed even though you felt like your heart was about to leap right out of your chest.

you could only take so much before you looked away, turning your attention back to the rest of the group in a daze. why was he already staring at you? why did he look so calm? what was he thinking?

“then who wants to go first?”

yeonjun’s voice grounded you in reality again, your mind suddenly coming back into focus. you didn’t even notice how the some guys had joined you on the floor, sitting in a circle, or how kai had opened a couple of boxes of pepero, keeping one for the game while dispersing the others.

“we’ll go first.”

your eyes immediately flicked to soobin at the sound of his voice, your heart sinking deep into your chest as your eyes met once again. he took on of the sticks from kai’s hands, slowly standing from the couch and making his approach.

he chose you.

the loud cheers and and laughter that came from the rest of the group was drowned out by the onslaught of thoughts that came flooding into your mind. half of you was convinced that he would make it quick, only opting to have you as a partner since you were close, and probably more bearable to work with than anyone else.

at the same time, you couldn’t help but feel that nervousness settle back in. what you thought was a slim chance of happening was now becoming a reality, and you already felt the heat rising into your cheeks before he was even within two feet of you.

as he knelt down in front of you, his eyes never left yours. his expression was still serious at first, until his eyes flicked down to your cheeks. the corners of his lips tugged up into a small smile, and immediately you knew you were caught. you silently prayed that the other guys were too drunk to notice your embarrassed flush, too.

soobin lifted the stick in his hand to your mouth, his smile widening.

“here, take it.”

your heart fluttered, eyes never looking away from him as you silently obeyed. his hands reached out to gently grip your shoulders, his warm hands sliding ever so subtly up the sleeves of your t-shirt so that he was touching your skin.

“just go already. your score is gonna get beat anyway.” yeonjun chirped, but you were far to enveloped in soobin’s gaze to listen.

“i wanna take this seriously, actually. do you think i’m playing to lose?” soobin looked away from a moment, shooting a grin towards yeonjun before immediately turning back to you.

before anyone else could complain, soobin turned his head and slowly started biting down on the stick you were holding so tensely between your teeth, not being able to stop yourself from squeezing your eyes shut. you wished for something like this, maybe even dreamt about it.

his face mere centimeters away, large hands holding you still as he drew his lips closer to yours; but you didn’t want this. you wanted to be alone, to have him to yourself. you didn’t want anyone else to see how easily you lost yourself in his touch.

you felt the weight between your teeth become lighter and lighter, your heart pounding at the thought of just how close soobin would already be if you opened your eyes. but you kept them shut, hands clasped tightly in your lap as you desperately wished that you two were alone. you wished that he could stop being so polite and proper for the sake of the game, your desperation only getting worse as you felt soobin’s hot breath against your lips.

you thought maybe he would really do it, maybe he would close the distance and secretly wanted the same thing you did.

but you were sorely disappointed when his breath disappeared and he pulled away, your eyes opening wide as soon as he did. you watched as soobin held up the stick to the ruler in yeonjun’s hands, a proud expression washing over his features as he turned back towards you, hand shooting into the air.

“1.2 centimeters. not bad, right?” he beamed.

you agreed, suddenly breathless.

did he have any idea what he did to you?

that question haunted you for the rest of the night as the boys satisfied their dopamine craving with a couple more rounds of the pepero game, followed by a couple more rounds of drinks between yeonjun and beomgyu. it was only when they started getting out of hand that kai cut the night short, fearing for the cleanliness of his apartment, taehyun taking on the burden of driving them both home.

with taehyun now in charge of babysitting two drunk men and kai busy cleaning up the mess they left behind, you figured the best plan of action was just to call a taxi. you didn’t live far, so whatever the fee was wouldn’t be too much of a hassle to pay. as you stepped out of kai’s apartment building and into the street, however, a tall, familiar figure waited for you.

“y/n- you’re not actually gonna call a taxi, are you?” soobin’s eyes watched you carefully as they landed on you. the way you perceived those eyes, the way the looked at you and met yours so carefully, was utterly distorted now. all you could think of now when he looked at you was the way he stared you down earlier that night, holding the stick to your lips and shamelessly asking you to just take it.

“it’s no big deal, it’s not like i have to go that far.” even though you didn’t want to, you tore your eyes away from soobin, eyes searching the city streets instead.

“there’s not many drivers around at this hour, though. it’s cold, and it’s getting late.” you could feel soobin still watching you, the sound of his car keys jingling filling the otherwise quiet air.

“let me drive you home.”

you didn’t make any snappy movements. you didn’t flinch or flick your head up at the sound of his words. you just stared blankly at the other end of the street as your heart fluttered, head slowly turning up to finally look at him again.

“you don’t have to, really. you live in the other direction, anyway-”

“please. i insist.”

there was something different about the tone of his voice. something spilled out, something that was overflowing and threatening to unravel, even though he seemed to be doing such a good job with keeping it in check.

or maybe your delusions were getting the better of you. maybe your feelings for him were twisting reality, and you were starting to ignore the facts just to believe what you wanted.

logic was telling you that soobin had given you a ride home several times in the past, and this was just him worrying about you as your friend – but your feelings were telling you that this was a chance you couldn’t pass up.

“okay, okay.” you smiled, following him to his car. “let’s go.”

the first few minutes of the car ride were silent. not uncomfortably so, but part of you still felt tense, somehow. there was an inkling of a thought pacing back and forth in your head, making you wonder as you glanced over at soobin.

god, he was beautiful. the slight curve of his nose, his pouty lips, the pale glow on his skin. the way his jacket accentuated his shoulders, the way his hand so leisurely held the bottom of the steering wheel. if you focused hard enough, you could smell the faint scent of his cologne spreading through the air, filling your lungs and clouding your senses.

you wondered: were you really imagining things, or did he feel it too?

“i didn’t make you uncomfortable, did i?” soobin asked, glancing briefly at you. “during the pepero game.”

“no, not at all.” your mouth went a bit dry as you spoke, the question catching you off guard. “why do you ask?”

“you just seemed so tense. your cheeks were flushed and you were gripping your hands so tight your knuckles turned white. you know, you could’ve said no if you didn’t want to do it.” he chuckled lightly, but there was a sense of worry evident in his voice.

“oh, that?” you looked back out the window, mentally scolding yourself for making yourself so obvious. the worst part is that he interpreted your tension in the complete opposite way – you wanted it. in fact, you didn’t get nearly enough of it. if only the other guys weren’t watching it all happen, maybe you could have made that clearer.

“sorry, if that’s how it came across.” regaining your composure, you looked back over at soobin. “i was just nervous, that’s all. it kind of awkward doing that while everyone was watching, don’t you think?”

soobin grinned, letting out another light laugh, “definitely. but it was kind of fun, wasn’t it?”

you smiled to yourself, but couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread settle in your stomach. the way he talked about it was so casual, as if his breath against your lips and his hands so carefully holding your frame was a normal occurrence – but it wasn’t normal, not to you. didn’t he see that? didn’t he notice how hot he made you feel?

“soobin.” his name slipped out from your lips before you could even stop it. there was so much you wanted to say, and all the words you had been working so hard on keeping under wraps were threatening to burst right then and there.

he hummed in response, and from the corner of your eye you could see him periodically glancing over at you. he was waiting for you, like he was asking you to continue, and for some reason you wanted nothing more but to make it happen for him. you submit, each and every one of your secret thoughts beginning to spill out one by one, his gaze making you too weak to stop it.

“i was nervous, and it was because everyone was watching,” you paused, trying to swallow the dryness in your throat, “but i.. i wanted it, you know. i wanted to kiss you.”

the couple of seconds of silence that followed your words seemed to stretch out for hours. you could’ve sworn that you felt the air in the car shift, turning tense and heavy, the weight of it nearly suffocating you. your mouth opened as you rushed to reverse the damage, but the words died in your throat as soobin spoke up first.

“really?” he asked, though there was a certain softness to his words. there was a smile in his tone, and as you looked over at him, you could see how the corners of his mouth seemed to lift after your confession. it made your head spin.

“well-” originally, you were going to take it all back, snatch your words right out of the air and bury them somewhere not even you would remember; but that damn smile of his was urging you to keep going. “yeah, really. and you seemed so competitive that i thought maybe you would really do it, even if it was just for the game. but you pulled back last second.”

a few more seconds of silence, then soobin spoke again, “the guys wouldn’t have stopped talking about it if we did. i couldn’t do that to you.” he chuckled, and so did you. he had a point.

“but i was nervous, too. i think that’s why i ended up pulling back, it felt like my chest would explode if i didn’t. but i wanted it, too.”

..he wanted it, too?

the subtle beat of your heart started to pump harder within your chest, so excited by the mere words soobin was speaking that it flipped and turned every which way. your eyes didn’t turn away from him; they watched and studied his expression, and that’s when you caught it.

the pale red shade that rose into his cheeks, making him adjust himself in his seat and nervously fiddle with the steering wheel. he was just as nervous as you were.

your voice softened as you carefully tread the conversation, fearing that one wrong choice of words could shatter all the progress you’ve made.

“do you still want it?”

your eyes locked for a second, only a second, but that was enough to get a glance into him. you saw the way his eyes widened every so slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to ask such a question. but with the way that rosey flush spread into his ears, his mouth shifting as he bit the inside of his cheek, you could tell he liked it.

the car came to a slow as soobin skillfully pulled in front of your apartment building, one hand pulling off the wheel to put the car in park. finally, he looked over at you properly. the nearby streetlight shone through the windshield, illuminating his features perfectly. you could finally look into his eyes again, watching his gaze soften and seem to sparkle slightly in the light.

“even if i say yes, how will i get it?”

his question made your heart skip a beat. there was a shift in his tone; it became a bit curious, a bit suggestive. his eyes glanced between your eyes and your lips, and he didn’t seem even slightly ashamed when you caught him. you even noticed how he seemed to lean in just a bit closer, the scent of his cologne stronger. he wanted a certain answer from you, even if he didn’t say it.

and you were going to give it to him.

“can you stay for a bit?”

the walk to your apartment floor felt like it lasted hours, the thick tension between you two palpable. you weren’t rushing to leave the elevator or to grab your keys out of your bag to unlock your door, even though you felt like that was more appropriate than slowly and silently strolling through the hallways.

it was starting to drive you crazy – but then again, you would rather do this than do anything rash. what if he pushed back, what if he was scared away?

you pushed open the door to your apartment, soobin hovering behind you as you slid off your shoes and shrugged your coat off your shoulders. that was until, suddenly, your coat was properly lifted off your frame, your head spinning around to see soobin had taken it in his hands. he hung it on the hooks you had near your door, next to his.

but he never looked away from you. he looked at you in a similar way to earlier, in a way that nearly made your legs buckle beneath you. slowly, he approached you. your head gradually tilted up to meet his eyes, as his tilted down to meet yours.

one of his hands gently took hold of your shoulder, and you wondered if he could feel the goosebumps on your skin as he traced down your arm. he took your hand in his, while his other hand reached up to your face, gently cupping your cheek. he held you so gently, as if holding you too tightly would shatter your skin.

“is this okay?” his voice whispered into the dark, silent air. you nodded, and in response his face slowly started to draw closer to yours. unlike earlier, you didn’t close your eyes. your muscles didn’t tense and you didn’t squeeze your hands into tight fists. you watched him come closer and closer, until he stopped mere centimeters away from your face.

“this is where i stopped, during the game.” you could see a small smile grow over his features, as if he was proud. “you really want this?”

you chuckled at the fact he was even asking you that. you could feel his hot breath against your lips. the scent of his cologne flooded your senses, clouding your thoughts and dizzying your mind. you felt extra sensitive to his touch, even the slightest movement from him sending a chill down your spine. he was driving you crazy, and he didn’t even know it. that’s what made his question so ridiculous.

“more than anything.” you whispered, and his smile widened. he must have been playing with you, or he wouldn’t have looked so smug as he closed the gap between the two of you.

the feeling of his lips pressing against yours was like a sweet release, a weight being lifted off of your chest. you had wanted this for months, although they felt like years, and it was beyond anything you could have possibly imagined.

the taste of his lips was sweet, intoxicating you and getting you hooked on the flavor. he felt soft, almost fragile. he kissed you carefully, memorizing the way your lips danced and paying close attention when the rhythm changed. he leaned deeper into you, and you leaned back. your tongue grazed his teeth, and he granted you permission to enter.

without quite realizing it, the small entryway of your apartment became hot with the warmth radiating from your bodies. you felt it in your face, where soobin’s hands were touching, and especially where you wished he was touching.

the gentle kiss you two started with devolved into something hungry. needy. the hand soobin had been using to so carefully hold your face was now on the small of your back, pulling you close until there was no distance left between you.

your hands reached up from where they had been resting on soobin’s chest to instead tangle themselves in his hair. he kept leaning into you until you had no choice but to stumble back against your wall, and for a moment he pulled away. his hands moving to snake down your sides until they hooked under your thighs, lifting you up so effortlessly it sent a wave of heat straight to your core.

“where’s your room?”

his question practically knocked the wind out of you as you breathlessly answered:

“door on your right- there.”

you pointed to the door just ahead of your entry way, soobin following where your finger guided him. as he shoved the already ajar door completely open with his shoulder, he continued pressing deep kisses into your lips, the breathing between you two getting heavy and ragged.

within seconds you were being laid down onto your sheets, one of soobin’s hands supporting your back as the other pressed into the mattress, caging you in. you were waiting for him to lean down and allow you to intoxicate yourself with the taste of his lips, but for a few moments, he didn’t move. he merely hovered over you with half-lidded eyes and his pouty lips agape, waiting for something to say.

“i wanna do more than just kiss you, y/n. i want so much more..” he confessed, butterflies swirling in your stomach at his words. you knew by the lustful glint in his eyes that his intentions were sinful, naughty; but the way he spoke so softly felt so pure.

you almost felt giddy – if only that giddiness wasn’t being so loudly overtaken by a burning desire.

“i won’t stop you.” you whispered, your arms snaking around his neck as your hands found their way back his tousled hair, “i want it, soobin. i want you.”

it was only after your words that a switch seemed to flip in him, like the mutual desire between you too was finally understood. he let out a shaky exhale and dived into you, placing a kiss onto your jaw before latching onto your neck. you gasped at the sensation of sweet, gentle kisses being pressed into your skin, your neck craning to give him more space to work with.

“you smell so sweet.” he muttered between kisses, making you smile, “it’s driving me crazy.”

as soobin nipped at your neck, you did something you had been waiting so long to do: just touch him. your hands left his hair as they traced down his chest, sneakily making their way down to his waist. he was wearing a white, perfectly loose t-shirt, which gave you the perfect opportunity to slip your hands under the fabric, the ghostly touch of your fingertips barely grazing his skin. you felt him shiver, catching him gasp right beneath your ear.

but your movements didn’t stop him as his kisses got rougher, hungrier. devolving from soft and sweet pecks into starved sucking as he marked the space below your collarbone.

one of his hands slid down your waist, taking hold of the hem of your shirt and pulling it up.he pulled back, letting out a heavy breath as he pressed kisses on your chest, then your ribs, then your stomach – you were almost sure he would have been able to feel your heart pounding through his lips.

“soobin..” you mewled as you watched him lean back, eyes trained on your center as his fingers traced the waistline of your jeans.

you watched him undo the buttons and hook his thumbs around the waistline, pulling down your jeans in one single movement. his hands every so slightly pushed your thighs up, encouraging you to spread them open. you obeyed, although your cheeks burned with embarrassment at just the thought of how soaked you probably were.

“oh my god..” he practically groaned at the sight of you, his fingers laying flat against your pussy and sliding up. you whimpered in response, shocked at just how sensitive you felt to his touch. his eyes flicked up to you.

“you have no idea how bad i wanted this, baby.” his voice shifted into a husky tone as his body moved down, getting a pathetic whimper out of you. his arms hooked around your thighs as he pulled you to the edge of the bed, firm and decisive. his expression was almost desperate, his eyebrows turned up and his cheeks flushed, as if he was on his knees to start begging you for pleasure. it made your head spin.

as his hands grabbed and pulled at the hem of your panties, carefully yet quickly taking them off and discarding them, your legs practically shook with need. his hands held your thighs and spread you open, exposing you fully to him. mildly embarrassed, you turned away, averting your eyes from the lewd scene beneath you.

it was then you felt the warm, wet sensation of soobin’s tongue lick your slit from the bottom up, ending with a small peck against your sensitive clit. you breathed out a moan, your hands reaching up and taking hold of your sheets, as if to prepare for what was to come.

“eyes on me, honey.” he requested, and without even thinking you looked back at him, completely forgetting the bashfulness that overtook you a second ago. you nearly gasped at the view beneath you, how soobin’s gaze was wide and doe-eyed, staring so sweetly at you from between your thighs.

“there you go. want you to watch me, okay?” those words and the hint of his smile was enough to make you cum right then and there, but the dream of that was quickly cut off as soobin dove into you.

he tried to be patient, he really did. he started with shy licks and kisses, like he did on your neck, but it barely lasted a minute before he was sloppily lapping at your pussy. it was like he was thirsty for it, the way he thrusted his tongue between your folds and sucked at your clit.

“s-soobin, oh my god- fuck-“ you quickly unraveled into a moaning mess, knuckles turning white as you gripped the sheets and desperately tried to keep yourself still — but it was no use. you were squirming in his grasp, your hips shyly bucking into his face as the knot inside of you grew tighter.

“god- just like that, y/n. don’t stop.” soobin groaned into your cunt, as if he was getting off on it just as much as you were. using the brief moment of separation, two of his fingers brushed against your entrance before slowly sliding their way in. you both moaned at the sensation.

“you’re so tight-“ he practically whimpered, fingers thrusting at a steady pace right into a spot that made your back arch. “are you close, huh? you wanna cum all over my fingers, baby? can you do that for me?”

his senseless rambling into your cunt on in between his tongue lapping at your clit on top of his fingers keeping you full was making you see stars. this deep, burning desire that you had for soobin had been festering for so long, and the fact that it was finally being fulfilled was almost too much for you to handle. but even as your legs shook and you moaned shamelessly into the air, you wanted more. you needed more.

“i-i need-“ you gasped between your moans, your noise barely covering the sound of soobin sucking at your dripping cunt. your hips were moving completely on their own now, shame flying out the window as you slid up and down soobin’s tongue, “s-soobin, i’m gonna-“

“give it to me,” his groans sent vibrations up your body, making you tremble, “let it go baby, please. just give it to me.”

as if on command, the tight knot that had been stretching thin within your stomach snapped at his words, a blinding euphoria completely washing over your body. every limb, every muscle of yours shook with overwhelming pleasure, your entrance desperately tightening around soobin’s fingers as they slowed. he worked you carefully through your orgasm, pulling his mouth away to rub gentle circles on your clit.

“holy shit-” you breathed out, breathless as your eyes, previously squeezed shut, carefully opened. your vision gradually came into focus as a lightheadedness settled into your skull. you felt weak, your body limp against the mattress as you realized the sudden cramping in your fingers from so tightly holding onto your sheets. you had never experienced anything like that before.

but even as the orgasm soobin gave you with nothing but his mouth and fingers left you utterly stunned, your fantasies about him never stopped at foreplay. you needed more – and not only did you know it, but you could feel it.

the second soobin’s fingers carefully left your entrance, it was already begging for them to come back. it clasped and twitched around nothing, burning and pleading as it longed to be filled again. to be filled by him.

“god- i can’t wait-”

you gathered the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows as you looked down at where soobin had been kneeling, only to find he was already up on his feet. you felt a heat rush down your spine and fester at your core at the sight of him.

“you have no idea how bad i need you-” his words came out in breaths, “d’you even know how hot that was?”

he had already taken his t-shirt off, the subtle definition of his body practically glowing in the dim moonlight. his hands, still stained with your slick, anxiously fiddled with the buttons of his jeans before undoing them. even through the tight material of his jeans, there was an extremely evident tent in the fabric.

you felt your breath catch in your throat as he pulled down both his jeans and his boxers in one swift movement, his long, thick erection springing free.

soobin climbed onto the bed and resumed his position where he hung over you before, one hand by your side while the other slowly pumped his cock. you couldn’t help but watch as his thumb circled his flushed tip, barely able to catch the glisten of the pre-cum that he spread over the top of his shaft.

but the sight of his face made you just as hot. you met his eyes, and in an instant you recognized that you were seeing a completely different side of soobin. his face was flushed, eyes drowsy and half-open as if he was in a trance. soft pants escaped his open mouth every so often, his lips wet with a mix of your juices and his saliva.

he was needy. just as needy as you.

“do you have any condoms? where are they?” the words rushed out of his mouth, like anything that wasn’t fucking you was just a waste of time. you would have laughed if your mind wasn’t so overridden by desire.

“just forget that-” your tone hinted at a whine as your hips wiggled beneath him, your legs moving up to loosely wrap around his waist. you barely pulled him in, but you could already feel the tip of his cock brushing against your clit. you shivered at the sensation.

“wait, y/n, are you-”

“it’s okay, i promise,” you felt your heart pound in your chest, your core tighten and squeeze. your hands moved up into his hair again, your hands tangling in his locks. “just put it in binnie, please? i can’t wait either..”

although he looked like he had something he wanted to say, his hips responded first. he pushed his length against the lips of your pussy, not to enter, but just to slide up and down the wetness of it. you whimpered at the action, a combination of both impatience and sensitivity from your orgasm making you dizzy with need.

“i’m not gonna go slow. i can’t.” he said, the words phrased as a rule. a non-negotiable. “you okay with me being rough? sure you can take it?”

you rapidly nodded, biting back the pathetic sounds you so desperately wanted to make at the feeling of his length against your heat.

“tell me, baby.” he whined, “can you take it?”

your throat went dry.

“yes,” you breathed, “i can take it.”

a dazed, lazy smile spread over his features.

soobin leaned back, his large hands sliding up the back of your thighs as he spread you open wider, his eyes glued to where the two of you met. his brows furrowed and his mouth let out soft breaths as he slid over your clit just a couple more times, before pushing firmly into the heat of your entrance.

you moan in unison as just a portion of your desires are finally met, and you swear for a moment you saw stars. you could feel how tight you were around him, the massive size of him making you unbelievably full.

“fuck..” soobin let out a drawn out moan as he bottomed out inside of you, fingers pressing deep into the soft skin of your thighs. he already started to grind into you, your walls sucking him in each time he dared pull back.

“you don’t know how bad i wanted this, y/n..” he said, your heart jumping at his words. for just a moment, you debated what he said. you were shocked at the implication that he wanted this for longer than just a moment, making you wonder just how long the two of you waited before satiating a now mutual hunger.

but you couldn’t think about that too deeply yet – not when you could barely speak, let alone think about anything else but the delicious feeling of soobin steadily pounding into your burning cunt. not when the only thing that left your mouth was high-pitched moans and needy whines, occasionally interrupted by whispered swears.

you had been waiting for, dreaming, of this moment, and you were going to lavish in it.

the steady pace that soobin started at rapidly devolved into fast, desperate movements. his hips would pull almost all the way back, leaving you with nothing but the head of his cock before slamming right back into you.

he moved at a relentless pace, the lewd, merciless sound of skin slapping against skin leaving no room in the air for silence. the only thing competing with its volume was the sound of your own moans, shameless and explicit.

and amidst it all, soobin’s eyes never left yours, his head tilted to the side as he watched you fall apart beneath him. watching as your hands reached out and pawed at the skin of his arms, studying how your eyes briefly rolled back every time he hit the sweetest part of you; but, strangely, it didn’t feel like you were just being observed. you were being admired. idolized. worshipped.

“you look so pretty like this.” soobin cooed breathlessly, “so so pretty.. and so wet for me- so wet and so fucking tight-“

“soobin-“ all you could think to do was cry out his name in response. while you both seemed utterly drunk on the feeling of each other, soobin had been mindlessly rambling ever since he got the chance to touch you, while you couldn’t put together a proper sentence for the life of you.

it felt so good, almost too good, as tears stung the corners of your eyes and that euphoric tension tightened inside of you again with a vengeance. it didn’t help that all the words you tried to say to convey that message only came spewing out as fucked-out nonsense.

“you okay, baby? not too much for you, right?” soobin suddenly asked, a hint of concern in his voice despite the reckless speed of his hips slamming against yours. it didn’t seem like he could stop, even if he wanted to.

you anxiously shook your head. “n-no, please, don’t stop-“ you managed to choke out, your fingers wrapping around his forearms and tugging him towards you. he understood, leaning down and pushing your knees close to your chest with his arms in order to close the gap between the two of you.

the new angle made you see stars, and if soobin hadn’t pressed his lips passionately into yours, you knew it would have enough to rip a cry out of you.

he shoved his tongue between your lips as he rushed to get a taste of you, the quiet murmur of your mutual moaning getting muffled by it. you surrendered completely to him, letting him bite at your lips and tangle his hands into your hair.

although you succumbed to him, however, your entire body remained tense. every muscle in your body squeezed tight, especially where it was wrapped around soobin’s length. your moans became more high-pitched and whiny, your breaths in-between more ragged. your hands had found their place on soobin’s back, desperately clawing and dragging against his skin.

“i-i’m gonna fucking cum, soobin-” you mewled as soobin pulled back, resuming his previous position to tower over you, your legs spread open so obediently for him. “don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop- please don’t stop-”

your hurried blabber only encouraged soobin, each one of his thrusts hitting the deepest parts of you with a fiery passion. each one told you that nothing would be better than this. that you were ruined for any other man. that you were his.

“go ahead, baby, ‘s okay..” he said, speaking with a softness, “let me see you fall apart all over me.”

at his request, your second orgasm of the night hit you like a freight train. it was twice as intense, euphoria repeatedly striking you directly at your core before sending shockwaves down your body. you threw your head back into the pillows, stars scattered across your vision as a lewd, pornographic moan ripped from your throat. the sensation of your orgasm rippled around soobin’s cock, forcing him to breath out a drawn out moan and string of whispered curses.

“just like that, honey,” soobin’s moaned from over you, “so good.. so, so good..”

while the orgasm itself hit you twice as hard, it felt like the aftermath exhausted you ten times as much. you couldn’t control the way your legs shook in soobin’s grasp, or the way your chest steadily rose and fell in an attempt to catch your breath.

but coming down from such a high proved impossible as soobin continued to hammer into you, his pace only slowing when your orgasm made it too difficult to move.

“s-soo.. bin- wait- ‘s too much!” you cried out to him, watching through the blurry lens of your vision as he so mercilessly pounded your sensitive cunt.

“i know baby, i know..” he panted, “‘m sorry, i can’t stop- til your pussy’s stuffed full, i can’t stop-”

you were so spent already. every inch of your skin was covered in a thin film of sweat, your heart thundered relentlessly in your chest, and there was a thick scent of sex filling the air of your room. your legs felt so limp that you could barely feel them at all, the sweet sting of where soobin had dug his fingers into being the only reminder. and your head – you could have sworn that you were dreaming based on how lightheaded the rapid sense of overstimulation made you.

but, despite that, you didn’t dare stop him. you didn’t push him away or beg for a break – you laid there and took it. you let tears gather in your eyes, overstimulation wracking your body as your limbs quivered and pussy ached around soobin’s cock.

your hands found their place in your sheets once more, tightening and gripping onto the fabric as if it was somehow going to save you. and your voice, raw and ruined, knew nothing but the feeling of soobin’s name being ripped from your throat.

and he fucking loved it.

“you’re so hot, y/n, so fucking beautiful. d’you even know what you do to me? how long i wanted to pound your pretty pussy like this?” as soobin rambled on, his voice gradually became more out of breath, more desperate. his moans became whiny, high-pitched.

“needed you so bad it was driving me crazy- but you needed it too, huh, baby? did’ya wanna get pounded like this?”

his words made your head spin, a fresh wave of desire washing over your body and sending heat rushing to all the right places. he loved how he took you apart piece by piece, and you loved seeing how drunk he got on it.

“i-i needed it so bad, you have no f- fucking idea-” you cried, “it f-feels so good-”

his thrusts started to get sloppy, losing the ruthless rhythm he had started with. he fell to his elbows, his hands snaking up your arms and peeling your fingers away from the bedsheets. his hands intertwined with yours, holding your shaking frame against the mattress.

“y/n-” soobin’s lips hovered over yours, barely able to feel his hot breath against your skin, “lemme fill you up, huh? you want it? want me to fill you up nice ‘n full?”

“p-please- give it to me, binnie. want your cum-”

as if your permission was the trigger, soobin only lasted a few more thrusts before he bottomed out inside you with a high-pitched groan, the feeling of his warm seed instantly settling into your core. the feeling of it, however, was just as much of a trigger for you, your third orgasm of the night hitting you before you could even prepare for it – and all you could do was lay there and let it.

you pressed the knuckles of soobin’s hand – which were still intertwined with yours – against your lips, barely containing any of your pathetic whimpers and moans that your ruined orgasm forced out of you. your legs squeezed around soobin’s waist in an attempt to keep still, but there was no use against the sensitivity that overtook your body.

soobin, who had buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathed out a string of soft yet forceful moans, his stilled cock still twitching within your sensitive walls. every now and then his body shook, waves of pleasure shocking his body almost perfectly in sync with you, your orgasm no doubt heightening his own.

for a few moments, the two of you laid there; breathless, sensitive, unmoving. the silence that followed one of the loudest nights of your life was one of comfort. it wasn’t weird or awkward, like you almost expected it to be, but relaxing. like you finally felt a sense of relief after the past several months of undisturbed tension.

but the stillness of the room only lasted so long, soobin being the first to move. with a sharp wince he slowly pulled out of you, his cock carefully dragging through the walls of your throbbing pussy. even as spent as you were, you missed the full feeling.

he lifted his head up, but only enough to look you in the eyes again. he studied you carefully, his gaze scanning over every detail of your expression until you realized the way it made your heart pound. his hand reached up, and you didn’t dare move as his fingers so gently brushed some sweat-soaked strands of hair out of your face.

“i meant what i said. you’re so beautiful.” he said, his voice suddenly lowered to a whisper.

you laughed at his words, your voice coming out hoarse. “really?”

“really. seriously.”

you swallowed down the dry feeling in your throat, carefully picking out the words for a question you dreaded.

“did you mean it when you said you wanted me, too? when you said how long you wanted me for?” your voice shrank, “or did you just want sex?”

the question clearly caught soobin off guard as his eyes widened, the hand still intertwined with yours tightening slightly.

“what? y/n, are you serious?” a light chuckle escaped his lips, but he knew by reading your expression that the question was genuine. his free hand reached up and cupped your cheek, his thumb grazing your skin.

“i like you. and it’s for so many more reasons other than sex.” he confessed carefully, “for so long i wanted you all to myself – and i mean it, when i say it.”

you felt butterflies swarm your stomach at his words, unable to hide the smile that spread over your features. you lean into the touch of his hand, partially hiding your face in it at the sudden shyness that came over you.

but in response, soobin turned your face to look right back at him, emphasizing the impact of his words with yet another kiss. this one was similar to the way the night started, with soft presses and sweet touches. you felt him smile into the kiss, and you smiled back, a powerful wave of sheer joy swelling in your chest. you felt complete.

soobin’s gentle smile beamed down at you as he pulled back, shy giggles being shared between the two of you.

“so.. does this make us official?” you asked bashfully, to which soobin responded with the soft drag of his hand, his fingers tracing down your chest and to your waist.

“well i’d hope so.” he grinned, moving to press a kiss onto your neck, “no way am i letting you go to anyone else. you’re all mine.”

as soobin enveloped you in his touch, his arms pulling back to snake around your waist and pull you into a warm embrace, he moved to lay on his side, properly able to pull you into his chest. your arms wrapped around his neck, your hands rubbing gentle circles onto the marks you left in his back earlier, and you could feel him relax just as much.

“i thought it was a stupid idea at first, but it’s good kai picked the pepero game, huh?” soobin muttered against your shoulder.

you grinned, “yeah, but it was only a matter of time until i got you to myself. i would’ve gone crazy if i didn’t.”

soobin chuckled into your skin, pressing on another kiss, “me too.”

within moments, as if you two had been doing it all your lives, you settled into each others warmth. an intimate silence filled the air as you laid there, the tense centimeters of distance that you had dealt with just hours ago finally being absolved into nothing.

god- if you had known then that this was how a round of the pepero game would end, you would’ve played it way sooner.

#taebinlvr #txt fanfic #txt oneshots #txt drabble #txt smut #txt fluff #txt hard hours #txt x reader #txt #tomorrow x together #choi soobin #soobin #soobin txt #soobin x reader #soobin smut #soobin fluff #kpop #kpop smut #kpop fluff

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ariasakka · 3 months ago

Text

A Taste of Forbidden Pleasures

Jinshi smut! Fingering, 18+, virgin, female reader, obsessive Jinshi, oral, pussy eating, dick sucking, fingering, maybe tiny bit of size kink?

!!NON KINKY VERSION!!

kinky version posted.

(Well maybe this might be kinky to some people but it’s not imo and isn’t compared to the other version.)

I felt like my original version might be a bit too kinky for the fandom so I made this one for people who aren’t really into kinky stuff

You’re both virgins, you both try your best not to take it too far. At first it was convincing yourself you’d never date Jinshi then it was convincing yourself you’d never fall in love with him because it was doomed to fail. After all you were a servant girl and he had high title, nobody would take it seriously. Clearly you failed and fell head over heels in love with him. You were both set on being eachothers forever and only partner no matter what. No matter the cost. That being said you both tried to tell each other it was best not to take it further than kissing.

Tonight the both of you were making out in his chambers as you always did. Only this time his kisses were more needy. He was whimpering inbetween each kiss. You were trying to contain yourself and not to the same. You succeeded on that but you were growing annoyingly wet with every kiss. His knee was inching closer and closer to your groin as the minutes went by. Jinshi knew his knee was creeping closer and closer to your sweet spot. He knew exactly what he wanted and he wanted to make you needy and whiny underneath him just like he always was under you when you make out with him on his lap like usual. Only this time he was on top of you so he had leverage. When Jinshi finally got his knee touching the sweet spot he longed for he felt a wet spot on the tip of his knee. You let out the sweetest gasp he’d ever heard in his life. He couldn’t contain himself. He left your mouth and started kissing up your neck until his lips met your ears and he cooed “Let me fuck you y/n, please”

You grab onto his robe not expecting him to say such a lewd thing “Jinshi no, you’d probably be too rough!”

He holds your face in his palms and looks down into your eyes with such a beautiful look. One almost too hard to resist.

Jinshi “No I would not do you really think that about me?”

You pause for a moment before saying “It wouldn’t fit even if you were gentle.”

You knew quite a bit about sex so helping others wasn’t an issue but the few times you’d touched yourself you could tell you would have a hard time taking anything larger than your own fingers.

On the other hand you had taken lots of time practicing your skills with your mouth on vegetables. You had no doubt you’d be able to please him in that regard. You’d always expected to do something to him first. He always got a bit carried away with kissing you were worried he would have no idea what he was doing and hurt your poor insides even though you know sweet Jinshi would never mean to.

Jinshi would like to be more experienced than he is. Luckily he has done quite an embarrassing amount of reading up on the topic. He wasn’t too interested in doing that sort of thing with someone else. That is not until he met you. He had re-read all of the old books he did before and a large sum of new ones just to learn all the ways he could please you one day. In his alone time he had done some practicing with his fingers on various fruits such as peaches and oranges. He had no doubt he was quite skilled with his fingers at this point. He had no doubt he wouldn’t be able to please you now. If only you’d let him. He can be quite needy for you but he had practiced on enough fruits even an egg yolk to know his way around a vagina. That being said he did break a lot of egg yolk for the first few times but not after that. He practiced hundreds of times after that just to be sure he wouldn’t hurt you. A bit obsessive. But who wouldn’t be when it comes to the love of their life?

After a long pause you say “What if I do you first?”

Jinshi shakes his head no. “Next time.” He wants this to be about you. He’d spent countless nights imagining your face, your sounds, as he pleasured you. Though imagining your pretty little mouth or tiny hands on his cock was nice too he was in the mood for something else. For your release.

Jinshi “Just my fingers please my love.”

You cross your arms “I said you’d be too rough.”

Jinshi “I’m gentle.”

You ��Really?”

Jinshi smirks “Yes, especially with my fingers”

You “You can barely contain yourself around me. The first time I said I love you back while kissing you came in your robe. How am I supposed to think you’d be gentle now hm?”

Jinshi “I’ll show you just. Trust me.”

You “Yeah whatever, you can never keep your lips off of mine kissing me aggressively 24/7 like you’re in heat.”

Jinshi “Yes I can”

He leaned down and kisses you gently. He teases his tongue on your lips, similar to how he would like to one day to your lips down below.

You can’t tell if his tongue on your lips moving the way on your lips they are is intentional but it only makes you want him more. You involuntarily grind onto his knee, getting lost in his soft kisses. He releases after a moment. Your lips feel cold you want him back. You let out a pout and try to pull his face back but he takes hold of your hand and holds it down above your head on the bed with his own.

You “See, can’t keep your lips off of me.”

Jinshi “That was gentle no?”

You “Yes I suppose…”

You didn’t notice you were getting completely soaked on his knee. He pressed his knee to your pussy harder. Pressing down on your clit. Your eyes met his filled with lust.

Jinshi “You’re soaking my knee. Please. I just-I fucking need you pleaseeee y/n.”

You bite your lip “Okay.”

Jinshi needs to hear you say it “Yes?”

You “Yes.”

He gently removes your clothes until there’s nothing left but your soaked panties. He took much longer than you wanted him to. His slow kisses all over your body, taking his time, it was driving you crazy. You were the one that was hesitant at first but now all you wanted was for him to hurry up and take you. When you were in nothing left but your panties he traced his fingers along the hem with one hand and rubbed your hips with the other, taking in your beauty.

You whine “Jinshi pleaseee.”

Jinshi “Can’t I admire how pretty my princess is? Alright Jinshi will hurry up, shh princess.”

He finally removes your panties. A string of wetness glistened as he removed them. Jinshi grazed his fingers along your pussy gently. Avoiding just the spot you wanted him to touch. You bucked your hips begging him to feel you where you needed most. Your face was so red anyone else would’ve thought he’d given you an aphrodisiac. He read up on foreplay. Oh, he read up on a LOT of foreplay. You were exactly where he wanted you. He spread your legs wide open and spit directly on your clit. He watched in awe at how you convulsed at the sensation.

He chuckled. “Alright, alright.” Jinshi traced his thumb up and down your slit gathering your sweet juices. Then he traced two fingers over your throbbing clit. He was much gentler than you expected him to be. You never expected you to be the needy one in this situation. You started moaning so loud you were sure everyone would’ve heard you if Jinshis house wasn’t so far away.

Jinshi looked as you in awe “Fuck you sound so pretty for me, don’t hold back.”

You kept repeating a plea of “Jinshi please!” You weren’t sure what you were pleading for. All you knew was that you didn’t want him to stop. He knew exactly what your body wanted from those begs. He began to place two fingers at your entrance. He gasped when he felt how tight you were. His books had always said to start with two fingers than add more but you were far too precious to him and he never wanted to hurt you. He removed the tips of both his fingers and settled with one. He lowered his middle finger gently into your cunt while rubbing your clit with his thumb. That went in much easier. He knew he would have to work on stretching his precious pretty girl out for a while before you could take his cock but he didn’t mind that one bit. Your hips started involuntarily moving on their own at the sensation of his finger. You were so sensitive under his touch. You knew you must have looked so stupid right now. How could the roles reverse into you being the needy one so fast? You desperately tried to hide your face in your hair or the sheets but all Jinshi did was brush the hair out of your face and force you to face him. “Don’t hide from me pretty. Aww so sweet, are you sensitive? I’ve got you. Let Jinshi do all the work okay princess.” He held your hips in place while he fingered you. Once he felt you opening up more he slowly slid his pointer finger inside you as-well. You tilted your head back. Jinshi felt you pulsing around him hard. He was obsessed He leaned down and started kissing your neck. He was moaning inbetween kisses. At this point he returned to being the needy one. He sounded as if he was almost enjoying this more than you. He can’t help but grind into your legs as he’s knuckles deep inside your perfect cunt. To your surprise despite how needy he’s gotten he’s still remaining just as gentle. His fingers filling your hole mixed with Jinshi being a whimpering hard mess is sending you over the edge. You’d only came on your fingers a few times but this, this felt much more intense. Jinshi could feel you getting close. He lifts his head up from your neck to watch your face. He wanted to watch how beautiful his girl looked when she came all over his fingers. The feeling around his fingers as you came mixed with the look on your face was too much for Jinshi. He came all over his robe just as he was letting you ride out your orgasm on his fingers. You chuckled. You knew your Jinshi would return to his needy lusted out self. “Such a beautiful boy”

He releases himself from your cunt.

Jinshi “Told you I’d be gentle.”

You “I’ll believe you next time.”

Jinshi “Better.”

Jinshi licked his fingers clean. The haze over his face from the taste of your juices was intoxicating. He nearly looks as if he’s drunk from just tasting you. “C-can I taste?”

You “You just did Jinshi.”

He kneels down resting his face just where he wants it “You know what I mean.”

You “Yes please”

You grab a fist full of his hair and lower his face down to your cunt. You’re so sensitive after just having came but you don’t care. You can’t get enough of him. The feeling of his tongue inside your walls is addicting. He can’t release his mouth from your lips. He is in love with your taste, with your feel, your insides are so soft on his tongue. On his lips. He loves it. You can tell he’s hard all over again just from the way he’s grinding into the sheets. You’d never heard much of men getting hard from eating a girl out and especially not getting hard again after they’ve came. You didn’t mind though. At this rate you’re all worked up again and desperate to taste Jinshi if he’ll let you. You’d seen him hard through his robe many times but never the real thing. You’ve wanted to many times but were too worried more would happen if you did. Now you don’t care. You pull him by the hair off of you and throw Jinshi on his back. You straddle his lap. Jinshi is confused he was enjoying his meal.

Jinshi “Satisfied?”

You “No.”

Jinshi pouts “Was my tongue not to your liking princess?”

You “That’s not quite what I mean. I liked that very much.” You begin to take off his robe. You can fell his hardness pressing against your ass. Good that’s just what you wanted.

Jinshi gasps, his cheeks grow bright red. “What are you-“

You “May I?”

Jinshi nods.

You begin to kiss down his chest and go to down lower. You palm his cock in your hand. “Mmm pretty.” you kiss the tip. He can’t take his eyes off of you.

Jinshi “Fuck princess-god. Ahh!”

You lick up the side of his cock while making eye contact “Want me to stop?”

He shakes his head no and grabs the back of your hair for something to hold onto. He tries to be soft he doesn’t want you to overdo yourself.

You “You don’t have to hold back with my mouth you know. I don’t have a gag reflex.”

You appreciated how composed Jinshi was with his fingers but honestly you really wanted to see him let go. Not have control. At least your throat could handle that.

Jinshi “What did you just say?”

You “I have no gag reflex.”

Jinshi sits up and places two fingers down your throat to test. He’d came many times imagining your mouth wrapped around his cock but he didn’t want to do too much if you wouldn’t be able to handle it. When his fingers bottomed out in your throat and you didn’t gag he hissed. He added a third finger because that was closer to the size of his cock. When you didn’t gag at that either he raised a brow and you smirked at him deviously. He began slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of your mouth. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation. It felt nice to you. Jinshi removed his fingers. He was panting already just by the site of that.

You “Believe me?”

Jinshi “Fuck I believe you!”

You “I want you to thrust into my throat with your dick.”

Jinshi “Are you sure my love?”

You “Yes please.”

Jinshi “What about when I cum?”

You “Just pull out and finish mostly on my chest. I don’t know if I’d like the taste just yet.”

Jinshi “I understand. Okay. Here, kneel on the stool that’s infront of the bed and I’ll stand infront of you.”

Your face lights up, you’re excited to see your lover let go. Your excitement has him leaking with precum. Once you’ve gotten on your knees atop of the stool he stands infront of you. His cock at perfect level with your mouth. You stick out your tongue eagerly. You grab hold of his hips inviting him inside. He grabs the back of your hair to push himself deep inside your mouth. You start bobbing your head to assure him you’re fine. You push his hand on the back of your head harder to motion him to let go. Once he’s assured you’ll be fine he starts thrusting down your throat. His pace is fast, though he still holds back slightly not wanting to hurt his princess. Jinshi is a moaning mess. You look so fucking pretty like this. To pretty. He’s not sure how long he’ll be able to last like this. He wants to do this to you all night. His hands are definitely never going to feel as good after this. While he’s busy bobbing your head up and down with one hand. You take hold of his free hand and place it on your breast. That sends Jinshi over the edge. He pulls out of your throat and finishes on your chest.

You “Maybe next time you can cum inside.”

Jinshi pants “You’re going to kill me if you keep saying such things!”

You “You were such a good boy.”

Jinshi draws the both of you a bath. He carefully washes your body then you do his. After the both of you cuddle in his bed chambers. The both of you should get dressed but neither of you care if someone catches you anymore.

You “You know Jinshi you’re oddly skilled.”

He smiles to himself proudly. He’ll tell you about his practice another time.

Kinky version ↓↓↓

#the apothecary diaries smut #the apothecary diaries #jinshi smut #jinshi #smut #jinshi x reader

1K notes · View notes

darkwitchoferie · 3 months ago

Text

Cheating Ex

Summary: You’ve been best friends with Minho since you were children – before he was a professional dancer, let alone before he’d debuted with Stray Kids. You’ve been in love with him for what feels like forever, but he’s with Jisung. Even before that, you’d resigned yourself to him not thinking of you that way. So when you go to his and Jisung’s apartment after your boyfriend cheats on you, again, you’re only expecting a shoulder or two to cry on but get significantly more than you ever let yourself hope for.

Cw/tw: multiple partners, pet names (baby, sweet girl, kitten, etc), unprotected piv, oral (f receiving), talk of anal, member x member action (kissing, but other things discussed), cum eating, dirty talk, non-public exhibitionism, very vocal sex – like, they just won’t stop talking, a little praise kink

Wc: 5.5k

This fic has an alternate that is just Minho x fem!reader. It can be found here.

This fic is part of a series of unconnected best friends to lovers fics, the others of which can be found on my master list.

You rushed through the front door of Minho’s apartment, tears streaming down your face, hoping your best friend was home.

“Y/N?” Jisung came around the corner, from the kitchen into the living room. “Y/nnie, what happened?” He hurried to you, wrapping his arms around you.

“Sungie,” you muttered, relieved that someone was home, even though it wasn’t Minho. It didn’t matter though, you were nearly as close to Jisung as you were to Min. “It’s Haneul,” you said through tears. “He’s cheating on me.”

“Oh sweetheart. Come on.” Gently, he led you to his and Minho’s room. You followed Jisung to his bed and curled against him when he pulled you down onto it, letting the tears come and soak his shirt.

Some time later, after your tears had started to run dry and the crying was mostly internal now, you heard the bedroom door open. “Kitten? What happened?” Minho nearly threw himself on the bed behind you, wrapping his arms around you. The familiar nickname, one he’d given you when you’d run over to his house in the rain and he’d said you looked like a half-drowned kitten, brought comfort the same way his presence did.

“Haneul cheated on her,” Jisung explained quietly.

“That asshole! Want me to call Chan and Changbin, sweetheart? We’ll go straighten him out.”

“It’s okay, Min. I’m fine. Besides, it’s not like it’s the first time.” You rolled slightly out of Ji’s embrace so you were looking at both of them.

They were both silent for a moment, staring down at you. “What do you mean?” Minho asked, voice low and dangerous sounding. Or, it would have been if you didn’t know your best friend well enough to know that he wasn’t going to leave you here while he went to hunt down your ex.

“Haneul…,” you sighed. “He’s never been loyal to me. He’s had at least two other girlfriends and I don’t even know how many hook-ups since we started dating. I just never told you.” You shrugged. You knew they were going to question you, but you hoped it wouldn’t be too bad if you tried to downplay how much the other affairs hurt you.

“What made this time different?” Jisung asked softly.

“He cheated in my bed. Not his own, hers, or some hotel room. He brought some woman to my home and my bed.”

“Why’d you stay with him so long?” Minho burst out, disappointment and hurt thick in his voice. “Kitten, you are so much better than that. You deserve so much better! Why put up with some asshole who doesn’t even respect you, let alone love you? Why – I don’t understand why you’d put yourself through that kind of cruelty.”

“He looks like you! Okay?!” You burst out, unable to hold it in under his disappointment. “Figured it was the closest I’d ever get to having you, either of you, so I –” Your eyes widened as you realized what you were saying and you struggled to sit up and get out of their bed. “Shit. Lemme go. Minho! Damn it, let me go!”

“Never,” he’d sat up and tugged you back against his chest.

Then Jisung was in your face, with those pleading boba eyes that you could never say no to. “Please, Y/nnie, just hold still for a bit. Just listen to us, okay?” You nodded, but didn’t relax, ready to run the second Minho let you go. Ji stared at you for a second and you could see the internal debate raging behind his eyes. “You know how Min and I do voice notes a lot?”

“Especially when one of you is working and the other isn’t,” you said by way of agreement.

“Exactly,” he grinned at you then dove toward his night stand and his phone. “Listen to these, yeah? Then… well, we’ll go from there.”

He tapped his screen and you heard Minho’s voice. “Kitten came by while you were out. Seemed sad. Did my best, but I’m not sure it was enough. Maybe swing by hers before you come home?” You furrowed your brow in confusion but before you could ask, he pressed play on another note.

“God damn,” this time it was his own voice. “I could listen to Y/nnie’s laugh all day long and never get bored of it.”

He alternated after that. The next was Minho, then himself again, and so on, giving you no time to react between voice notes.

“Do you think she’d moan like that if we fucked her?”

“She convinced me to go to the pool. You should see the bikini she’s wearing! Barely covers her. God I want to take it off with my teeth.”

“This asshole needs to go! What do you mean, you think she needs to lose weight?! Y/N is fucking perfect and you’re unworthy to breathe the same air.” You’d heard Minho angry like that before, but couldn’t recall the conversation he was referencing. You knew it had to be about your ex though.

“Ha! She fell asleep cuddling me. I feel like I won.” Was there a competition, you wondered.

“I can't decide if I hope she's wearing panties under that tiny skirt or not. Just imagine being allowed to bend her over and slide right in.” The note cut off with a low moan that shot straight to your core despite being a recording.

“Sorry I’m running late. Ran into our not-yet lover at the store. We should really get a move on on that, this whole seeing her pretend to be happy with other people when I know we could make her happier thing is killing me.”

“Sungie, you ever notice that the guys Kitten dates suck? Like, not just ‘cause I want her to be ours. I do, obviously. But like, I don’t think they listen to her when she talks. I know this asshole doesn’t.” You were certain by the tone in his voice that Minho had been drinking that day, but you had no idea when it was.

“Wish you were here baby. Riding my dildo and thinking 'bout you and Y/nnie. Think she'd let me cum in her? I hope so. Wanna make such a mess of that pretty pussy. Breed her like she deserves.” Jisung’s voice was nearly all moans and you could hear the slick sounds as he bounced on his dildo.

“Did you see that outfit she wore today? She always looks so good.”

Jisung set his phone down and stared at you for a minute. When you didn’t say anything, he said, "I know it’s a lot. And I don't wanna scare you off baby, just want you to know.”

“Oh, Kitten’s not scared. Are you? I can see your nipples poking your shirt, sweetheart. Can feel the way you’re damn near panting against me.” He was right. The first time you’d heard your nickname, you’d twitched in surprise. But then, realizing that all these voice notes must be about you, you’d really listened. You were touched and so turned on. You’d been trying to hide your reaction, but should have known that Minho would feel it.

“I….” You trailed off, not knowing what to say.

“You liked that?” Jisung asked. “You like hearing what me and Min talk about – think about you?” You nodded your head quickly. He tilted his head a little, a sly smile crossing his face. “Would you?”

“Would I what?”

He crawled closer to you. Holding eye contact, he said, “Would you let me cum in you?” You pressed back firmly against Minho, not trying to get away, more like trying to stabilize yourself. “Would you let me breed your pretty pussy like you deserve?”

You pressed your thighs together, and you weren’t sure if it was because you were trying to hide how aroused you were or trying to get some sort of relief. “I think she would,” Minho said, snaking a hand under your shirt and gently running his fingertips over your belly. “I think that right now Kitten would let both of us do just about anything with her. Wouldn’t you?”

“Oh God.”

Minho used a single finger under your chin to turn you to look at his very serious face. “I need to make one thing very clear to you, Y/N. If we do this, Ji and I are not letting you go. You will be ours. If you think that’s more than you can handle, you should go. Now.” He let go of you, planting both hands on the bed slightly behind himself.

You didn’t bother turning to Jisung to confirm he felt the same way. Instead, you twisted yourself completely around to straddle Minho’s lap. Sliding your arms over his shoulders you leaned in toward him. “Promise?” you whispered.

Minho practically lunged to close the tiny amount of distance left between you to claim your lips in a possessive kiss. His hand came up to tangle in your hair and tilt your head to where he wanted so he could deepen the kiss. You felt the bed shift behind you then the warmth of Jisung crowding against your back seconds before you felt his lips on your neck. Minho shifted you just a little more to give Ji more room as he sucked a hickey into your skin. You kept one arm over Minho’s shoulder, burying that hand in his hair, while bringing your other hand back to grip Jisung’s thigh, whimpering into Minho’s mouth at the way his thigh flexed under your hand.

Minho used the hand he had on your hip to pull you closer to him, sliding you over the bulge forming in his pants. You moaned, finally breaking away from his lips to toss your head back onto Jisung’s shoulder.

“Is Min hard under you, baby?” Jisung asked, lips hovering just over your neck. “’Course he is,” he said before you could answer. “He’s tasted your pretty mouth and got you on his lap finally. Does he feel good against your pussy, even through your clothes?” You nodded frantically. He shifted to whisper in your ear, “I promise, he feels even better inside you.” You moaned, rolling your hips against Minho’s clothed cock, and hearing both men echo your moan.

You turned your head, twisting your upper body enough that you could capture Jisung’s lips. The angle you were at wasn’t comfortable, but it did leave the other side of your neck bared for Minho to cover with open mouthed kisses and a few hickeys. You felt hands slide under your shirt, one Ji’s the other Min’s. They lifted the fabric over your head, both pulling away when they needed to.

Minho groaned low in his throat, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. “What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Kitten, you deserve for us to take our time, savoring you today. I don’t think I can,” he answered, without looking up at you.

“Mm. I don’t recall asking you to do that. Or even remotely suggesting it,” you countered. He lifted his head to look at you, that same dangerous look from earlier flashing in his eyes. Except this time, it was darker, lustful, and sent an answering bolt of lust through you.

You felt more than heard Jisung chuckle behind you. Quickly enough to leave you breathless, Minho and Jisung both manhandled you between them, stripping you of all your clothes until you rested between Minho’s legs, completely naked, back to his chest, his legs hooked over yours to hold them open. Their hands roamed over you – caressing your legs, belly, ghosting over your neck and boobs – overwhelming you with sensation. You tipped your head back against Minho, eyes closing, just letting yourself feel their hands.

Ji leaned in, cupping one boob and sucking that same nipple into his mouth while Min cupped the other from behind, rolling that nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You moaned, pitch higher than it’d been so far, arching your back and pressing your tits more firmly against Ji and your ass against Minho.

“Does that feel good, Kitten? You like when we play with your tits?” You nodded frantically. “You have such pretty tits, baby. Always knew you would.” They switched sides, Ji moving to suck on the nipple Min had been playing with. Minho leaned down, gently biting where your neck and shoulder met, pulling a whimper from you. “Gonna let us take care of you today, Kitten?” He muttered, voice husky.

“Please.” You weren’t sure exactly what you were begging for, you just wanted more – wanted whatever they were going to give you. There must have been some sort of silent communication between the two men, because Jisung shifted, hands and mouth falling away from you. Then you felt his clothed chest against yours and opened your eyes to see the two men sharing a sloppy, open mouthed kiss over your shoulder. You moaned again, cunt clenching at the sight so close to you. Entranced, you watched and heard Ji whimper when Min nipped his bottom lip.

Then Jisung backed away from you completely, stripping himself quickly, and sitting between your spread legs, near your feet. You tilted your head in confusion, only to receive a mischievous smile in return. Minho’s hands slid down your body, one coming to rest on your hip, the other lightly running over your pussy. You whined, trying to push yourself more firmly against his hand, only to be held in place by the hand on your hip. Without warning, he quickly shoved his middle finger into you, chuckling when you clenched around him.

“You’re so wet already, Kitten.” He thrust his middle finger into you a few times, quickly adding his index. “Do you like Sungie watching you?” Minho’s voice was husky, right next to your ear, close enough that you could feel his breath against your face. You nodded, hands flailing to find something to grip as he slid his two fingers up to your clit. You grabbed his thighs, holding on tightly. “That’s good. Usually, he likes being watched too. But right now, he’s gonna sit there and watch while you fall apart on just my fingers.” Something in the way he said it sounded like both a promise and a threat.

He rubbed firm circles against your clit, then slid his fingers back into your cunt, thrusting firmly and as deep as he could, given his position behind you. The heel of his hand pressed against your clit, giving you enough pressure, but not quite enough friction. You writhed against his chest, trying to give yourself friction from his hand, but unable to get enough purchase to move much with the way he held your hip and your legs open.

Between your feet, Jisung smoothed his fingertips along both you calves. “Feel good, baby? His fingers are amazing, huh?”

“Mm-hm,” you nodded desperately, moaning when Minho switched back to circling your clit.

“You’re so responsive, Kitten. Will you be the same for Ji when he buries his face in your cute little pussy? Hm? Gonna squirm on his tongue like you are on my fingers?” You whimpered, squirming in his hold just like he said you were.

“Can’t wait to taste you, sweet girl. Wanna feel and taste you cum on my tongue. You’ll do that for me, right?” You felt like a bobble head doll with the way you were constantly nodding at the two men, but were struggling to form coherent words to answer with already.

Minho curled his fingers in you, rapidly rubbing against the spongy part of your walls that had you seeing stars. In a distant part of your mind, you realized that you were building to your orgasm faster than you ever did, even when it was just you. Then Minho shifted his hand, somehow managing to massage your g-spot and flick his thumb over your clit at the same time.

“Ah,” your back arched, head tossed back against Minho’s shoulder, as your orgasm washed through you.

“Good girl,” Minho praised, rubbing his hand against your hip soothingly, still slowly working his fingers in you as he helped you ride the aftershocks. You whined at the praise, clenching around him as you came down from your high.

You barely had time to register Minho bringing his fingers to his mouth to suck them clean before Jisung was flat on his belly between your legs, mouth pressed to your pussy, hands gripping your thighs.

“Oh god,” you whimpered, hips trying to lift toward him, but unable to move far. “Sungie,” you whined his name, reaching down to clutch his shoulder as he laved his tongue over your already soaked pussy, tongue darting between your lips then flicking over your clit.

“It’s one of his favorite fantasies you know,” Minho spoke with his lips right next to your ear. “Eating you out, I mean. He’s got this fantasy of laying you out on our bed or the couch or anywhere really, and just devouring your pussy for hours,” he ran his fingers through Jisung’s hair as he spoke, pressing his boyfriend’s face firmly against your cunt. “Well, that and watching our cum leak out of you. But that’s both of us who wanna claim you that way. Know that your ours. Gonna let Ji fuck you first so I can fuck his cum into you.” You felt Jisung moan against your clit, his lips wrapped around the bundle of nerves. Your legs twitched where they were still held open by Minho’s legs, desperately wanting to wrap around Jisung’s head and hold him there.

“You’ll let us, right Kitten? Let Ji then me cum inside your pretty cunt, fill you up? Hm?”

“Yes. Yes please,” you nodded wildly, fingers digging into Minho’s thigh and Jisung’s shoulder.

You felt the satisfied hum more than you heard it. “Such a good girl for us,” he praised softly, pulling matching moans from you and Jisung. The hand not tangled in his boyfriend’s hair slid up your torso to tease your nipples.

You were building to another orgasm quickly, panting and moaning in Minho’s arms. You weren’t sure if it was their skill and enthusiasm, that you were just that turned on, or just because it was Minho and Jisung, that had you so sensitive and cumming quicker – and harder – than usual.

Jisung’s tongue slid down your folds, thrusting as deep into your cunt as he could, pressing his face tighter against you in an effort to get deeper. You could feel him whine against you, like he was disappointed that he couldn’t fuck you deeper with his tongue. But the vibrations of his whine had another gush of arousal flowing from you and his responding moan had you clenching around his tongue. His nose moved against your clit with every movement of his lips and tongue as he continued devouring you.

Minho leaned down, sucking a bruise against the top of your shoulder. At the same time, Jisung shifted, sucking your clit into his mouth and batting the bundle of nerves with his tongue. Both sensations, coupled with Minho’s fingers still teasing your nipple, was enough to have you arching again, another orgasm rolling through you.

You were barely able to catch your breath as Jisung hovered over you, leaning over your shoulder and pressing his lips to Minho’s. You felt Minho groan, the sound vibrating in his chest where you were still pressed together. Still coming down from your high, it took a couple seconds for you to realize that the two of them were pushing and pulling you to lie back. You rested back against Minho, who shifted so that he was somewhat propped against their pillows and your head was now resting on the bottom of his ribs. So you weren’t laying flat, but you weren’t sitting up anymore.

“Hey pretty girl,” Jisung smiled down at you, gently squeezing your hip, as he broke away from his boyfriend’s lips.

“Hi Sungie,” you smiled up at him, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck and weaving your fingers into the ends of his hair.

“Still okay, baby?”

Distantly, you were touched that he checked in with you, but right then, you didn’t care. You tugged the ends of his hair gently and said, “If you don’t fuck me soon, Sungie….”

Behind you, Minho chuckled, bringing his hands up to rest on your belly. “Yeah, you’re doing just fine, aren’t you?” You felt him lean down and nuzzle his nose against the top of your head for a moment.

Jisung knelt between your thighs, knees wide and sliding them under your thighs. He leaned over you, bracing one hand on Minho’s thigh while holding the base of his cock with the other. He held your gaze as he teased his cockhead between your lips, bumping your clit on every upward stroke.

“Sungie,” you whined, wiggling your hips as best as you could in the position you were held in, trying to get him into you. He smiled softly down at you, then rolled his hips. Your hand tightened in his hair with a long, low moan as he fully sheathed his cock in you with one smooth motion.

“Oh god,” he whimpered, pressing his face into the crook of your neck and breathing deeply. You could feel his abs twitching slightly against you as he obviously worked to control himself and give you a moment to adjust before rutting into you like he wanted.

You felt Minho’s hand join yours in his hair. “She feel good, Sung? As good as we’ve always thought she would?”

“Better. God, Min, she feels so good. So wet,” he pressed an open mouthed kiss to your neck, “so warm,” you felt him lick at then suck a hickey into the same spot on your neck, “so perfect,” he propped himself up again to capture your lips this time.

You gently sucked his lower lip into your mouth, swiping over it with your tongue and pulling a low moan and responding hard thrust from him. Minho’s hands, which had been comfortably settled on your belly, slid up to cup both your boobs. You moaned, breaking away from Jisung’s mouth, arching into Minho’s hands as he pinched, rolled, and generally teased both nipples at once.

“So responsive, sweet girl.” Deciding you’d clearly adjusted enough, Jisung rolled his hips, steadily picking up speed until you were rocking against Minho. Whines and moans constantly fell from your lips under the combined sensations of Jisung’s cock in you and Minho’s hands on your tits.

You could feel yourself getting closer to another orgasm, and you clearly weren’t the only one who could. “You’re clenching pretty hard, baby,” Jisung offered a soft, dreamy sort of smile. “You gonna cum again? Gonna cum all over my cock for me?”

“Yes,” you whined, purposefully clenching around him again.

Minho slipped out from behind you, moving to lay beside you. “Wanna see your face when you cum on Ji’s cock, Kitten,” he muttered, running his fingers lightly over your torso. His touch wasn’t particularly sexual, but it felt like he was leaving a trail of fire under your skin wherever he touched.

Jisung adjusted, leaning back on his heels and pulling your hips flush against his, causing your back to arch. “Oh god,” you moaned out, the change in angle letting him fuck deeper into you. You reached over to Minho, intent on grabbing some part of him, only to hit fabric. “How – ah – you still dressed?”

“Because he’s infuriating. Lets him think he’s still in control,” Jisung huffed out.

“Want skin,” you whined, tugging his shirt and causing both men to chuckle at you. Minho rolled away from you, standing up beside the bed and quickly stripping himself. You watched, Jisung pulling small moans from you with every thrust of his hips. As soon as Minho tossed his boxers away, you were reaching out for him.

“I know,” Jisung agreed, voice breathy as he leaned over you and pressed a kiss to your sternum. “He looks so good, doesn’t he?”

“Mm-hm,” you nodded quickly, wrapping your hand around Minho’s wrist as he climbed back onto the bed and settled beside you. You tugged the hand you were holding up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm, before licking a thick stripe up his palm and wrapping your lips around two of his fingers.

Both men groaned at your actions, then Minho started thrusting his two fingers into your mouth. “Do you like that, Kitten?” You moaned around his fingers, swirling your tongue around the two digits. “Maybe next time I’ll fuck your mouth while Ji’s in your cunt, hm?”

You moaned again, pussy clenching at the thought. “Heh,” Jisung huffed a laugh. “Think she likes that idea, Min. Gripped me so tight.” He tightened his grip on your hips, making you arch your back a little more.

“There’s so many things we wanna do with you.” He pulled his fingers from your mouth, trailing the wet digits down your neck then over one nipple, rubbing light circles around it as it pebbled under his touch. You could feel your orgasm building, the coil in your belly getting tighter the more Minho talked and teased. “Let Sungie fuck you while I fuck him. Or let both of us fuck you together – one of us in your ass and the other in your pussy. Would you like that baby?” He leaned over you, laving his tongue over the nipple he wasn’t teasing. He wrapped his lips over the bud, sucking it into his mouth and flicking his tongue over it, finally releasing it when it was hard before switching sides and giving the other the same treatment.

“God. Both feel so good,” you groaned out, purposefully clenching around Jisung’s cock as you buried a hand in Minho’s hair to hold him against you.

“Yeah? Bet Haneul never made you feel this good, huh?” Minho asked, venom lacing his words.

“Who?” They both chuckled.

“Good girl,” Minho praised, fingers trailing down to rub firm circles against your clit. You whined, legs and pussy clenching around Jisung as the coil in your belly finally snapped, your third orgasm rushing through you. Jisung didn’t slow his thrusts, working you through your aftershocks.

After several more thrusts, you felt Ji pull almost all the way out, leaving just a little more than the head of his cock in you, and not thrust back in. You whimpered, almost disappointed, then abruptly cutting off as you caught sight of his hand stroking the part of his cock that wasn’t buried in you. He gave you a spacy sort of smile, rubbing his hand in soothing motions over your belly. He tossed his head back just as you felt his cockhead twitch and his cum flood into you. After only a few seconds to catch his breath, Jisung pulled the rest of the way out of you and you felt his cum leak out of you.

“God, baby. Look so good with my cum in you,” Jisung moaned.

Minho swooped in, bending close and swiping his tongue up your slit, catching the cum that was leaking out of you. Quickly, he leaned back up and pressed his lips to yours, slipping his cum-covered tongue into your mouth. You groaned, sucking the salty liquid off his tongue and pulling an echoed groan from him.

“Like that, do you?” he asked, pulling away from your mouth as he slotted himself between your thighs, sliding into your cunt in one smooth stroke. “Like the way your and Sungie’s cum tastes together?”

“Yeah,” you nodded quickly.

Jisung whined, leaning over you and licking into your mouth, chasing any taste that remained.

Minho wrapped his arms under your legs and leaned forward, nearly folding you in half, and planting his hands on either side of your head. “Not gonna last long, Kitten. Think you still got one more in you?”

You nodded frantically, grabbing his forearm beside you, the other hand reaching out to Jisung, who’d moved to lay beside you.

“Got himself all worked up before he even got inside you. Poor Min,” Jisung teased. Minho shot him a half hearted glare, but the younger man just chuckled. He leaned in close to you, pressing open mouthed kisses along your shoulder and neck, snaking a hand between you and Minho so he could tease your nipples. “Feels amazing around your cock, doesn’t she?”

Minho groaned in response, head dropping forward, hair falling forward enough to tickle your chest.

You felt Jisung’s lips trail up toward your ear and heard him mutter, “Beg him. Watch his eyes.”

Trusting him, you did exactly as he asked. “Min,” you whined, voice breathy. “Fuck me. Please, Min. Need you,” you added, purposely clenching around his cock. You breath was knocked out of you with a gasp as Minho started pistoning into you, like he was trying to fuck you into the mattress. You watched his eyes flash, something almost feral about the way he looked down at you. “Oh god,” you moaned, fingernails digging into his forearm.

“I know,” you could hear the grin in Jisung’s voice, right by your ear. “I love it when he gets like this. Like he just has to claim you, all because you begged a little. And he looks so good fucking you, doesn’t he? Our pretty man.” You whimpered with Jisung’s words. “Hm, wonder what pulled that? Was it ‘our’?” You nodded, body rocking with the force of Minho’s thrusts. “He is, ya know. He told you, we won’t let you go now. You’re ours and we’re yours.”

He pinched and rolled first one nipple then the other, moans and whines still falling from your lips. “Hear that, baby? Can you hear how sloppy your cunt is for Min?” You could, easily hearing the squelching sounds every time Minho thrust into you. “Your cum and mine all mixed in there for him? Can’t wait till he fills you up too, make you even more messy for us. Ruin our pretty baby for anyone other than us.”

He whined, leaning up to claim your lips in a sloppy kiss. “Can’t believe we finally get you to ourselves,” he groaned, pulling away enough to trail kisses along your jaw and neck. His fingers hadn’t stopped teasing and groping at your tits, though he did whine a bit when he realized there wasn’t room for him to get his mouth on them with the way Minho had you bent in half. Instead, he settled for sprinkling open-mouthed kisses and licks all over the skin he could reach, even as he continued to talk. “You’re so perfect for us, baby. Promise we’ll be perfect to you too. Love you all the time.”

You whined, clenching tightly around Minho. “Ah,” he smiled down at you. “Love you, Kitten.” You clenched again, this time with your last orgasm crashing over you. Minho kept up the speed of his thrusts, chasing his own high now. He’d been right, it didn’t take much before he was stilling and you could feel his cock twitching inside you, his cum filling you and leaking out around his cock.

He slipped his arms out from under you legs, gently moving them down to the bed. He slid his softening cock out of you, pulling a small whine from you at the feeling.

Jisung shifted, so he could see you pussy. You should probably have felt some kind of embarrassment at the way they were looking at you, but you were feeling too good to care. “We were right,” Minho commented. “You look so good, all messy from both of us filling you up.”

You whined again, just barely a protest, slightly kicking your legs against the bed sheets, then wincing at the soreness in your muscles. Both of them noticed and exchanged quick looks that you didn’t have the brain power to interpret. Minho rolled toward his side of the bed, opening the nightstand drawer and pulling out paper towels and baby wipes. Together, the pair of them carefully cleaned you up, then lay down beside you, each man gently massaging your hips and thighs.

Under their combined ministrations, you started to feel sleep pulling at you. After a couple minutes, they relaxed on either side of you, each resting a hand on your belly.

“Kitten, did you have plans this weekend?”

“Don’t you mean, do I, not did?”

“I do not. I mean, if you had plans, you should cancel them and spend the weekend here with us.”

“Oh really?”

“Mm-hm. We should take you out on a proper date. Or at least have a proper at-home date. Treat you right, like you should be treated.”

“Mm,” you smiled. “Suppose I could be persuaded to drop my plans for that.”

“Good,” Jisung gave you a sleepy smile, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Nap first though.” He scooted closer to you, tossing a leg over yours and tucking his face down against your shoulder. You and Minho chuckled, but neither made any move to dissuade him. Instead, Minho wrapped an arm around both of you, tucking the other under your neck and tugging your head under his chin. Slowly, you drifted off between your two men.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #Minsung x reader #stray kids x reader

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riricatria · 12 days ago

Text

Hiya, hiya~

Back with another piece! Thanks for all the opinions that came in regarding who to write for next! Right now, I'm swimming with ideas for multiple characters, so I'm not quite sure who the next profile is going to be for, but we'll see soon enough! In the meantime, I'm thinking of writing some shorter form content so there doesn't have to be 1,5 weeks in between each post (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

I'm an irremediable whore for this man, not sure if you can tell. Lord have mercy（´∇｀''）

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

CONTENT WARNINGS INCLUDE: Dark content (dead dove), cisfem!Reader, injury to reader (there's blood), the general stuff that comes with yandere content (obsessiveness, possessiveness, imprisonment...), a lot of forced non-schmexual touching, manipulation, manhandling, NONCON, coercion, rope, oral in both directions, fingering, painful coitus (there's blood), size kink, brief anal, manhandling, cockwarming, kithhing, marks, he gets a bit rough, pet names.

Disclaimers can be found in my pinned post. The template is heavily inspired by @/cinnamonest!

S-FW

˗ˏˋ ★ 1. General look: How are they like? How do they behave around the darling? Are there any warning signs?

Ah, the General. You know, the tall, handsome and gentle man that watches over the Luofu and leads his people with quiet self-assurance and accustomed routine? He’s been in the office for as long as you’ve been alive, and according to the elders, the seat has been his for multiple centuries. Even your Vidyadharan acquaintance tells you that the man, Jing Yuan, has held the post for as far back as they can recall.

He’s tall, and he’s strong, and he’s kind, he’s good with his words, he moves so gracefully, his smile is so beautiful, his-, wait, what were you thinking again?

It’s fair to say that he has managed to catch your eye. From the red ribbon in his long, fluffy hair to the little mole on his left cheek... The sight of him gets you feeling certain things. One could say that you have become somewhat enamoured by him. You’re not the only one, no doubt: The General does have a little bit of a womanizer’s aspect to his personality. Many if not most would drop their current life to be with him.

It’s not a reasonable fantasy to have, of course. He’s been alive for, what, over 700 years, and you have been alive for… less than that. Besides, it’s not like you’re actually trying to court him. The little crush you have is more innocent daydreaming material and less an actual, serious endeavour. He doesn’t have a partner as far as you’re aware, but you’re not about to offer yourself up for the position. Being the General’s wife would be a hassle in a league of its own; plus, you doubt you would have a particularly good time in such role. It would bring a myriad of responsibilities, and you would have to become a public figure, too. That kind of life doesn’t really suit your tastes.

That won’t stop you from entertaining your fantasies, though. You wonder how it would be like to lie in his arms, to get to hear his voice the first thing in the morning; what it would feel like to have his fingers run through your hair, how his kisses would be, that sort of thing. It’s all in good humour, and you even tell your friends about your little reveries. They, of course, roll their eyes in a playful manner but engage in the conversation nonetheless. It’s no secret that the General is as dreamy on paper as it gets, and chances are that you have quite a few people to gossip with.

However, your interest doesn’t truly spike before you actually get to meet him in person. One fateful day, you are to visit the Seat of Divine Foresight: You need to bring a few documents in because of your job. It’s something that needs to be taken care of right away, and although such thing isn’t a part of your usual job description, you take on the task nonetheless. It’s not that long of a trip to the office, anyway, and you’re just going in and out.

Exalting Sanctum is quite a mesmerizing place. You don't often have a reason to visit the place since you live elsewhere, but it's always a joy to see the ever-so-lively plaza. The middle square is an especially beautiful sight: People are sitting by the stairs, going about their day, chatting, laughing... The place never disappoints. However, where you're headed is the grandest building amongst the many.

Just in case, before entering the Seat, you check your reflection in the window by the door. You briefly adjust your hair, making sure no strands are sticking to your forehead, before patting down your clothes. Your outfit isn't the most extravagant one, and you're going to stand out a little because of that, but it's not that big of a deal. If you knew you were going to have to take the gig today, you would have dressed nicer, of course — especially since there's always a tiny chance that you could be seeing the object of your interest — but you can do very little about that now. Besides, your clothes don't affect the quality of your work, and they're comfortable, so you decide to hold your head up high and step in.

Your thoughts take an unexpected turn the second you make it inside the grand building, though. Suddenly, when you take foot into where practically all of the Luofu's important decisions are made, your found confidence suffers a small blow. Everybody is dressed in fine garments, important-looking people are striding around the vast room, and there are guards everywhere. Without having even done anything, you have already gotten a few dirty looks. You’re completely out of your element.

You hold the stack of documents in your arms closer to your chest as if they’re going to fly away with all the bustle. The red carpet that leads to the General’s seat feels inappropriate for you to walk on: It’s like you’re trespassing an area that you’re much too low-class to be seen in.

What was her name again, uhh… Ah, Qingzu! You’re supposed to take the papers to someone called Qingzu. You were told she could be found somewhere in the office. You haven’t worked with her before; you have know idea what she even looks like, but surely it’s not that big of a challenge to find her amongst the staff?

After a quick look around, though, the task starts to seem more difficult than you originally thought: There are so many women who could very well be her, all looking equally high in position, carrying around papers and tablets, knee-deep in their own work. There are warriors, there are secretaries, messengers... You quickly give up on the mission and instead start scanning the room for somebody that appears like they could help you find her.

Cautiously, you make your way deeper into the hall, timidly peeking around like a kid lost at a market. Gazing at the opposite end of the place, you come to see that the General's seat is empty, as usual. Albeit you were secretly hoping for a chance to get to meet him in person, it’s a known fact that more often than not, he can’t be found where he should. You've heard various reasons for why it is, ranging from official business affairs to him being an incorrigible slacker. Personally, you believe that it’s a mix of the two: For him to be such an accomplished man, you doubt that he could spend half of his day just lazing around and still get so much done. Then again, there's always some truth to rumours.

You walk up to a woman that’s standing by one of the scroll stacks on the wall. Hesitantly, you introduce yourself and explain that you’re looking for a person called Qingzu, that you’re here on work errands. She looks at you with a slight knit in her brow before letting you know that who you’re searching for is currently on lunch break. Moreover, she suggests that you hand the documents over to her instead.

You’re not sure what you're supposed to do. Logically, it should be okay to trust the woman to handle the job to the end, but you were specifically asked to give the papers to a different person. Your boss made it sound like a literal request, too. So, you swipe your tongue over your lips in a nervous manner and tell her that you can wait for Qingzu to return, that it's not a problem for you. Hearing your response, the woman sends you a tiny look of distaste before insisting that she can take care of it.

It’s a tricky spot to be in. You’re sure that you have a few pairs of eyes on your back already. The guard a short distance away from you discreetly glances your way. The more seconds pass, the more awkward the situation becomes. At the Seat, the pace in which matters are handled is strict and unforgiving, and wasting the employee's time would be a faux pas like no other. It's evident that you're going to have to make a quick decision if you don't want more people to get involved.

Just as you're about to open your mouth, however, the woman's eyes move away from yours, looking at something above your head. Then, you feel a warm hand on your shoulder. A deep, rich male voice speaks behind you, the words demanding respect: "Please allow her to stay until Miss Qingzu returns from her break". Judging from the woman's reaction, the request is less that and more of an order. Without missing a beat, she gives you a curt nod before leaving you standing there with the documents still in your half-extended hands.

You turn around to greet the man. However, as you do, you’re only met with the sight of a chest.

Your heart nearly jumps out of your throat. Your gaze travels up the man's form, trailing from his red pants to the golden symbol of a lion on his right shoulder. You let your eyes stray higher, and soon enough, they come into contact with a couple of striking, yellow ones. It’s him.

Your immediate reaction is to completely freeze in place. A steady warmth makes its way onto your cheeks, as much as you would like for it not to. You become aware of how you're staring at his face, and you avert your gaze from the sight of him to look at the floor, the scrolls on the walls, the banners hanging from the ceiling. The situation is so horribly awkward that you think you would prefer for the ground to swallow you along with the documents. Your boss suffering the minor loss of some papers and an employee is something she would just have to survive. Though, realistically speaking, you prepare yourself to humbly take on a scolding from the General himself, and so you straighten your back and look him in the eye.

However, instead of whatever you were expecting for his reaction to be, the General simply smiles down at you with compassion. His brows are raised in something akin to intrigue, and one of his hands comes up to rest over his chin in a thoughtful pose.

He has to bend down in order to greet you properly. The action is simultaneously a tiny bit belittling and incredibly attractive. He obviously doesn’t mean it in an offending way, and the gentle smile on his face tells the same story. Though everything in his character gives off nothing short of serenity, you yourself are finding it difficult to even stay standing.

He asks for your name. You mumble out an answer, but your voice cracks in the middle. You wish you never chose this occupation. However, instead of acknowledging the blunder, he gives you a courteous nod and introduces himself. Obviously, you would have had to live in one of the cargo boxes at the docks to not know who he is, and even then you would probably have caught the name. The gesture is, however, out of courtesy on his end: It’s a clear attempt to treat you as an equal, as ridiculous as that is when it comes to someone of his status, and so, you accept it with gratitude.

You stammer out the reason for your visit, showing him the stack of papers in your hands. He hums a small, contemplative sound in response.

Then, he asks you to wait by his desk for when the rightful recipient for the documents returns. Your eyes widen at the proposal: You, him... What? But the... You're about to refuse the offer, assuring him that you could just come back later, but there's already a large hand hovering above the small of your back, leading you towards the seat sitting at the grandest spot in the entire hall.

Your head is going hundreds of miles per hour, and every thought is so jumbled that you nearly fail to notice how he plants his palm on the back of your waist in a fairly intimate manner. Obviously, it’s a bit strange for him to be this touchy with a person he has just met, but oh, how exhilarating it feels to be the object of the General’s undivided attention. The entire situation is like straight out of one of your daydreams. You pretend to scratch your arm in favour of pinching yourself, just to make sure that this is, in fact, not a result of your imagination.

You end up standing next to him at his desk, completely still and straight as a twig, for the twenty-something minutes that it takes for Qingzu to appear back in the Seat of Divine Foresight. It's the only thing you can think to do: You're not sure about the etiquette when it comes to places like this, and so you do your best to be as unnoticeable as possible. The General, however, doesn't seem to find it necessary.

He asks you about your work. Hesitantly, you tell him the basics, who you work under, what the documents are about. It’s an attempt at small talk, clearly, but you’re hardly even able to listen to what comes out of his mouth. He’s so close to you, you can almost feel his warmth, and oh Aeons, he’s so handsome. Dealing with something like this is way above your paygrade, but you can't help but thank whatever stars aligned for you to end up where you are.

By the time Qingzu returns from her break, your blush is so deep and your hands so shaky that she has to inquire if you’re feeling alright. Finally being able to hand the papers to her, you thank her profusely and assure her that nothing is wrong. Without any further explanations, you swiftly excuse yourself. Of course, you make sure to bid your goodbyes to the General as well, and you do it along with an apology and a slight bow. He lets you go with a smile so devastatingly good-looking that your blood nearly evaporates. You practically skip your way out of the building.

When you get back to your boss, the first thing she does is laugh at your reddened face. Your thoughts practically radiate off of you, and it’s not particularly difficult to guess at least the basics of what has gone down when looking at you. The deep flush, the way the corners of your mouth are forcibly tugging upwards, and most importantly, the dreamy sigh you let out the second you make it inside your own office. Chances are that she set you up for the whole thing, knowing that you have the hots for the General, but you couldn't care less: You can't wait to share all what happened with your coworkers. In your elation, you decide to set the pessimistic rationale of what he must have thought of the encounter aside, and instead, you go on to gush about it like reciting a romantic drama script. It's all light-hearted fun, and the tale is sure to entertain every lover girl at the office.

Though, whatever you're thinking is going through Jing Yuan’s mind all the way back at the Seat of Divine Foresight is most likely quite far from the truth. Outwardly, he doesn't seem affected at all: He appears like his usual self, going over some work matters with glazed-over eyes, reading through the scrolls, writing down notes. If anything, he looks like he’s about to fall asleep, which is not that far from the usual, but in his head, he's anything but drowsy.

You’re lovely. It’s all he can think about. From your pretty face to the way your hands trembled out of nervousness in his company, your hair, your eyes, your meek voice, how you carried yourself despite the anxiety. What a rotten coincidence it would have been if he had missed you: You nearly walked out right in front of his eyes!

Immediately, he recognizes that he's attracted to you. However, unlike with most yanderes, what he’s feeling is closer to pure romantic interest than the overwhelming desire to possess you. It’s been a good while, centuries, even, since someone has last caught his eye in this way, but it's nothing severe enough to make him spiral. For now, in his eyes, you're a terribly pretty thing, but that's as far as it goes. Though, if he were to get to know you better, things could take a different course.

As luck would have it, your boss sends you on the very same types of errands in the future as well. She’s a cunning lady, true to her Foxian blood, and so she has claimed it as her responsibility to see that you get more fuel for your crush. Not only are you much more efficient that way, but the gleeful grin on your face is more than enough of a reason for her to put in a bit more effort. All in all, it’s a wholesome turn of events.

You start seeing the General on a regular basis while conducting the tasks delegated to you. More often than not, he’s at his desk when you pop up, and each time, he greets you with the same warmth as he did the first time. The relationship between the two of you slowly gets more and more cordial, until eventually, you would dare to call him ”your acquaintance”. Anything beyond that is off the table since he’s still a much more powerful figure than you could ever be, but it's far beyond enough for you. He listens to you talk about your day, about your boss, about your personal life, even. He doesn't seem that keen on sharing his own stories with you, but you're more than happy with the arrangement. You have learned that listening is his strong suit.

Though, as time goes by, you start to notice that your initial crush on him has begun dwindling down. As you have gotten to know him better, the attraction has slowly lost substance until your heart doesn't even leap anymore when you see him at his seat. It's not to say that you don't like him, no, but these days, the romantic scenarios you used to make up of him seem silly, more than anything. He has become something ordinary.

He knows, of course, that much like many people before you, the interest you initially showed at him was the youthful, innocent kind. It’s no unusual thing for him to have to deal with; he knows he’s quite a handsome guy. From you, especially, it was incredibly flattering: He could have bathed in your gaze like sun-warmed lake water, relished the red that adorned your cheeks, but as time has gone on, he no longer senses the same type of infatuation from you. Now that the two of you have actually gotten to know each other, it’s almost like you think of him as a… friend.

The second that the revelation comes to him, his sanity, the figurative floor that has kept him from falling into depravity, shatters under him, and he falls head first into the endless pit of his own self-absorption. The change occurs in a heartbeat, quite possibly in the middle of a conversation between you and him. Uncharacteristically, he seems to pause in the middle of his sentence, as if having forgotten what he was about to say, but he quickly composes himself. However, in that single moment, all of his psyche has flipped upside-down. And, the worst thing is that, you won’t catch a single glimpse of it.

He’s skilled when it comes to the art of concealing one’s emotions. He has had to do it for the past seven centuries, so it would be quite embarrassing if he hadn’t already caught the gist of it. Despite the way all of his mental alarms are going off at the same time, he continues the chat with you, completely unfazed.

He can’t believe you don’t harbour that sort of affection towards him anymore. It wasn't obvious then, but it seems that he took your attention for granted. He feels like the chance he knew he had slips from his fingers right then and there, as if a switch had been flipped. His mind is flooded with beyond unpleasant thoughts about all the losses he has had to witness, the death, the pain, everything. The image of you turning your back to him is enough to raise his pulse to near hysteria. Everything is about to come crashing down, and he’s just quick enough to excuse himself for some mundane reason before he loses himself.

It's so selfish. How could he be so selfish? How did he not see that, with every conversation, with every exchanged smile, your interest in him had lost substance bit by bit, and now he's left with nothing but a friend. You were supposed to adore him, to be all jittery when looking him in the eye. He didn't consider himself a self-centered person, but it seems that he has to reconsider that. You, little, tiny you have been holding so much power over him and he didn't even notice it.

He hasn’t had to deal with his vulnerable side for a good while. In his everyday life, there’s hardly anything that would be upsetting enough to affect him like this. It’s a terribly egotistical thought, he recognizes, but he simply can’t stomach the idea of your interest dying down. Unbeknown to you, and, he sees now, to him, he has breathed in your presence like it’s oxygen to him. He sits down and buries his face in his palms.

˗ˏˋ ★ 2. Securing: How will they abduct their darling? When, where and how?

For the next few days after his breakdown, Jing Yuan ponders over the options he has. Obviously, the most reasonable and morally correct action would be to just… let you live. He takes pride in being justful and kind, and every other alternative plan would be sheer mockery of such descriptions. The Luofu is particular about the citizens’ rights, too: Wrongful imprisonment would be against at least a dozen laws, and even more when taking his position into the equation.

But, then again, he needs you. It's not justifiable in any way, and he doesn’t understand it himself, either, but he can’t deny the fact that he would cut off his own arm if it meant that he could wake up to the sight of you every day. No matter how many days go by, that urge doesn’t die down — it grows stronger and stronger, until abducting you is all he can think about.

He’s vaguely pretending in his mind that, no, he isn’t conducting a plan for kidnapping you, but that’s exactly what he’s doing. During this time, he spends more time in his house than usual — to the point where Yanqing has to question if "the General is feeling under the weather". Despite the concern, he assures everyone that he’s doing fine, that he has just been busy outside of work matters. Truth to be told, he’s at his wit’s end regarding the entire thing, but nevertheless, he doesn’t stop pursuing his goal.

The eventual, inevitable outcome is that he abandons his honour in favour of achieving, well, you. It's the result of multiple days' careful consideration and a generous amount of introspection, but no matter which way he looks at it, he always ends up choosing you over anything else. And, when he makes his final decision, it's like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. Jingliu would be really proud of him for this one.

Ultimately, his plan isn’t even that grand or scrupulous as one would perhaps expect from him. Yes, it’s not particularly risky, either, but at its core, it's as simple as it gets. So much so, even, that when it has been conducted, you don’t immediately realize that you have just become a victim of his whims.

It’s an ordinary day. You have, once again, been tasked to visit the Seat of Divine Foresight, and as is usual, the General is there, sitting at his desk with a scroll of text spread over the table. He raises his gaze when you step in, welcoming you with his typical, soft smile that used to make your heart leap out of your chest. These days, you only feel the steady delight that comes when seeing someone dear to you.

You’re about to drop the documents off to Qingzu again, but this time, he stops you before you can begin searching for the woman. ”Actually, she informed me that it would be best if they were delivered directly at my residence”, he claims, gesturing at the papers in your hands. Your eyes widen a little, caught off-guard by the statement, but you're quick to compose yourself. It’s not unusual for him to take some work matters back to his house, and besides, for him to request something from you should be an honour! Hence, you don't think that much of it. You agree to his proposal, setting the stack on his desk instead of finding Qingzu, but he continues: ”That, and I have a few documents to send back to your boss. Would it be an inconvenience if your errand were to stretch a bit?”

You look at him, down at the documents, back at him. It’s a bit of an odd suggestion, considering that such a thing has never been asked of you before, but then your rational mind takes over. Surely, it’s not that big of a deal to walk to his place and back since there’s a good reason for it, too, right? You know roughly where the house is, anyway, so maybe you can make it back by starskiff before your boss starts wondering if you’re slacking off. Plus, there’s no reason for you not to trust the General. He’s been nothing but cordial to you, which has made your job far easier and much more pleasant than it would be under normal circumstances. And then again, your boss is probably going to be more than happy about you seeing an extra task through than not strictly sticking to the schedule.

You agree to the plan. His expression softens. He informs you that you’ll be leaving in a quarter of an hour. Nothing in his behaviour is indicative of anything out of the ordinary.

The two of you head to his house. Through the crowded streets of the Xianzhou Luofu and all the way to where his residence stands on top of a little hill, you walk beside him. You sit next to him in the starskiff that takes you to a completely different part of the ship. Throughout the trip, he makes little attempts at talking to you about nothing in particular, maybe trying to ease your mind, maybe just out of courtesy, but aside from those, he’s unusually quiet. That, and you notice that his pace is a tiny bit hasty. Your legs are starting to strain from constantly having to catch up with him. You don’t dare comment on it, however — it’s probably just your height difference. He’s really tall, so it’s likely just what he’s used to.

It’s not. He’s putting all of his willpower into not speed-walking his way through the entire commute. He’s very much aware of how you’re just barely keeping up with his pace, but it’s the best he can do, really. The more people there are that see you, the bigger the risk of somebody finding out what he is about to do. However, the great thing about being in his position is that nobody, nobody would dare to question him if it comes to having to prove his innocence. It’s a terribly corrupt use of his status, he knows, but moral sacrifices like that are only necessary when working towards a greater aim.

When you arrive at his residence, you can't help but marvel at the sight of it. His place is a beautiful, traditional Luofu house with a large yard and a tall fence surrounding the premises. You comment on it, telling him that you find the view gorgeous. He just gives you a smile as a response.

He leads you inside the house. You immediately come to question the fact that it's awfully dark: Maybe he's really that mindful about his energy usage? Though, even when the two of you get further into the building, he doesn't switch any lights on. An uneasy feeling is making itself known in the pit of your stomach.

You consider asking him to just retrieve whatever he has to from inside the house, but as he doesn’t suggest it himself, you conclude that it would be rude to question him. You follow him through a few rooms, gazing at the interior with curiosity, having your eyes travel over the ornate items on the walls, the paintings, a chess board spread on one of the tables… His house is surprisingly ordinary, at least according to your standards, though it's a bit hard to make it all out in the dim lighting.

He opens one last door at the very back of the apartment and holds it open for you to enter the room behind it. You walk past him, stepping into the darkness, squinting your eyes to see anything. You’re just about to gently propose that perhaps he should turn the lights on, but when you turn around, you hear the lock click shut behind you.

The room is pitch black. You have been rendered blind. The violent shiver that runs down your spine cannot be described in words. Your stomach flips in the same instant, and an ice-cold surge of terror floods into your bloodstream.

No, maybe he’s just… maybe he’s just… It’s because he’s…

The very same moment you realize that you have run out of justifications, his hand shoots out from the darkness to grab your form. You try to dodge, but of course, no person on this planet holds enough strength to be able to resist General Jing Yuan.

His arm wraps around your upper body, effectively locking you in place. His other hand goes to rest over your mouth, large enough to cover the entire lower half of your face. His chest is firm against your back, and no matter how you try to tear at his arm, he won’t as much as budge. When you start flailing your legs and trying to step on his toes, kick at his shins, aiming in between his legs, he lifts your entire body in the air like you weighed nothing to him. In a disproportionately calm voice considering the situation, he speaks in your ear, telling you to ”calm down, you’re only going to hurt yourself".

Naturally, that doesn't make you give up the fight even the slightest bit. Still, no matter how hard you struggle against him, your screams are muffled by his palm pressing against your mouth, and whatever little punches you’re able to land at his sides do nothing but tire you out further. The true panic is starting to set in, and your movements are getting more and more haphazard. He takes note of this, of course, and lets up his grip on your face a tiny bit to let you breathe. There’s nobody around that could hear your trouble, anyway.

When you run out of energy to put up a physical struggle, you resort to pleading with him, begging him to let you go, telling him that ”you won’t tell anybody if he just lets you go back, you won’t tell your boss, you won’t tell anybody, you swear”, but none of it really registers in his brain. At the moment, he's hardly capable of sensible thought. He’s still holding you in the air, just to be sure, but it seems that the worst is over for now. He lets out a sigh of relief.

A few tears have rolled down your cheeks and caught on the hand that’s still slotted against your face. He knows that you’re terrified out of your mind, that you don’t understand the least bit of what’s happening; you might even think that you’re in immediate danger, that he’s going to harm you. The idea of you going through such thing does cause his chest to ache a bit, but he’s sure that, with time, the fear you feel now will turn into something much more pleasant. And, fortunately for him, he has time.

˗ˏˋ ★ 3. Life: What is it like to live with them? How do they treat the darling?

The first few days are rough for you. Properly speaking, it's not because of him; he won’t put you through anything too harsh at the start (considering what he could be doing), but the frightening part is that you have been left in the dark regarding his intentions. It’s not that he means for you to feel that way — it’s more that he doesn’t know how to talk to you yet. You're in a highly vulnerable place mentally, and so, he doesn't want to inflict any further unintentional damage by getting too close too fast. Unless you make the initiative to talk to him, he won’t force you to converse with him at all in the first week or so. You have your own room that you’re locked in, and he doesn’t really talk to you when he brings you your meals and whatever else you might need. He greets you and says a few things, of course, but nothing beyond that.

When it comes to the room itself, it could be much worse. It’s nicely furnished: You have a large, plush bed to sleep in, you have your own bathroom, he has left you things to pass time with, and you can see the beautiful view of his yard through the tall window on the north wall. All things considered, it’s far from the worst place to be imprisoned in. It used to be one of his spare bedrooms, actually. "But it's all yours now", he tells you as he sets a bowl of rice in front of your huddled form in the room's farthest corner.

Though, after a few days’ ”settling in”-period, you're going to have to start cheering up a bit. He’s going to come into your room one day with your dinner. It’s just like all the previous evenings, but this time, he doesn’t leave after the few soulless sentences he utters. Instead, he sets his share of the food beside yours and sits down in front of where you’re balled up in the corner. It seems to have become your favourite spot — it must feel safe to you in some way. He makes sure to keep his distance for now, not entering your personal space, but it still leaves you feeling trapped. He slides your bowl closer to you, urging you to eat, but your hands remain tightly slotted against your chest as if you feared that he was going to cut off your fingers. He sighs at the display.

He asks you how you’re doing. The answer is obvious, you’re not faring too well, but the question is more about the sentiment behind it than your actual answer. He averts his gaze from your quivering form for a moment.

It takes a while for him to find suitable words for the situation. However, after he does, he opens the conversation by apologizing. You’re not the least bit impressed by his show of regret, and you make it known by pulling even further into yourself. You debate on if you should kick the bowl of food over just to get the point across, but as if sensing your intent, he moves the thing to the side.

He begins explaining your situation to you to the best of his ability. He lets you know that he’s not going to hurt you, that you haven’t done anything wrong, that he loves you, and that he’s not going to let you out. It all comes out of his mouth one thing after another, perhaps in an effort not to prolong the suspense. You’re equally horrified and confused by each of the claims, but the two latter ones are evidently the most shocking to you. The dried streaks of tears that adorn your face look like they’re going to get a fresh round in a bit. You swallow down a lump in your throat, willing yourself not to cry in front of him.

He promises to answer any and all of your questions if you have them. You have a difficult time deciphering what his eyes convey. It’s your decision whether or not you want to talk to him right away because the offer will remain open as long as you’re there with him, but he's a bit more receptive at the start of your captivity. If you don’t take the opportunity, he won't bother you any further with conversation attempts, and the two of you are going to eat in silence. Nevertheless, though, whatever your choice is, the moment marks the end of your adjustment period.

When it comes to his day-to-day life, you'll notice that his time isn’t really bound by that strict of a routine. He wakes up early in the morning, yes, and he has his job to attend most days, but other than that, you’ll be spending a lot of time with him in his house.

He feeds you, takes care of your needs, makes sure that you’re doing okay and that you’re in as sound of a mental space as you can be, circumstances taken into account. You have his attention whenever you desire it, no matter what he’s currently occupied with. He attempts to strike up chats with you, varying in topic, and slowly but surely, he has been able to get words out of you. Whether it’s you asking him for something or even complaining, he gladly accepts it all. He also takes you outside whenever he’s able: It’s important for you to get sunlight, and besides, the yard is much more spacious than the room you’re holed up in. It’s under the condition that your wrist is linked to his with a red tie, though, so you can’t make a run for it, but he lets you roam around as much as you’d like.

When it comes to his free time, as mentioned, he likes to spend it with you. From the conversations he used to have with you back when you were still free, he has a pretty good idea of the stuff that you're into. Whether it be arts or sports or anything in between, he suggests doing it with you. More often than not, you decline, and it does set him back a bit. If you're not up for doing it with him, he's perfectly fine with just watching you. You point out that it's equally as awkward if not even more so, but he insists that he doesn't mind. He likes to watch you do things, no matter what they are.

His personal favourite activities are, however, napping, gardening and chess. All of these are even better with you, naturally. It doesn't matter if you don't know the least bit about any of them (though napping is not the most demanding hobby to have), he guides you through with a gentle hand on your back. "I don't know the rules" is not valid enough of a reason to get out of playing board games with him, and neither is "I'm bad at it". He'll sit you on his lap and literally guide your hand on the pieces if he has to.

He also has a really sneaky way to get you to play with him. Times when you're clearly not feeling like it, he might pick you up and pretend to want to nap with you. Fearing the two-hour heater treatment and the sheer boredom that comes with it, you hastily propose that you do something else instead. "Hmm, what would you suggest?" is a difficult question to answer on the fly, and so, you end up going with the chess. Regardless of if you choose that or the nap, it's a win for him. Cunning fuck.

At night, the two of you sleep in the same bed; either yours or his. You won’t be able to escape from him since the only position he allows you to rest in is encased in his arms. You’re tightly pressed against his broad chest, head tucked under his chin. It gets kind of hot like that, but no matter how many times you complain about it, he insists on doing it. You feel like you’re cuddling a radiator.

Jing Yuan is not a bad yandere to be with, all things considered. If you weren’t held in his house against your will, one could think that it’s just an ordinary, happy relationship you have with him.

˗ˏˋ ★ 4. Rules: What kind of rules do they enforce? How lenient are they? How do they keep their darling in check?

He doesn’t really set out any rules for you. It’s more that he assumes that you understand them yourself. He did state that ”he’s not going to let you escape, unfortunately”, so that’s given, but aside from that, he’s incredibly lenient. You can yell at him all you want, insult him, curse at him, punch him, kick him — anything you fancy, really. Though, if you get really violent with him, he will restrict your movements. It’s not like your hits do a lot to his rock-solid body, but he would prefer not to be beaten regardless. Though, it’s good that you’re attempting to channel your rage to something else than yourself, he thinks.

Another thing is that he would rather not have you break stuff in your room. He can replace all of it, of course, but it’s always a bit of a hassle to do so. That, and hey, the room didn’t really do anything to you. It kind of pains him to see that you would place so little value on his home. However, if it makes you feel better, then who is he to say no to you: He could get you a dummy in your room if you're so keen on venting your aggression in violent ways.

The most severe restriction in your life is the fact that he doesn’t ever let you wander further than his yard. When he’s around, you’re allowed to explore the entire house (preferably where he’s able to see you), and he takes you outside whenever you’re feeling like it, but it’s going to be a miracle if you ever see the planet outside of his residence again. He knows it’s not ideal: It’s good for one’s mental health not to constantly look at the same view, but it’s a necessary evil, he thinks. He's simultaneously more lenient and far stricter compared to other yanderes when it comes to controlling where you get to roam: Though you'll never get to wander any further than his house, the entire plot is yours to explore (under his watchful eye, of course). He could be far less merciful.

A major part of his lenience comes from the fact that he feels remorse for having abducted you — especially now that you don’t seem to be particularly pleased about the turn of events. He’s not going to set you free by any means, of course not, but he still feels sorry for the anguish he has caused. That being said, he’s incredibly weak to things you might suggest. If you want anything, he’ll most likely get it for you (to a reasonable degree). If you want to go for a walk, he’ll take you. Whatever it is, he’ll abandon his work in favour of entertaining you.

When it comes to keeping you in check, he himself wouldn’t like to use that term. It’s more about ”making sure that you don’t so stupid things”. He doesn’t do violence, he doesn’t make threats, doesn’t tie you down, doesn’t really restrict you in any other way than locking you in your room, and even that is usually only if he has to leave for work or if you've been difficult. He’s fairly confident that you won’t be able to escape from there, so he doesn’t see the need for further precautions. Your furniture is much too heavy for you to lift, and the lock cannot be picked. Yes, if you rammed yourself into the window full force, you could technically make it out, but he doubts you have the courage for that. More on this later.

It’s not that he can’t be firm when it comes to setting boundaries, though. He’s a very confident man, and if there’s something that is absolutely off-limits, he will let you know in the calm, rich and absolute tone of his. And, you should know that when he says no, it really is a no.

˗ˏˋ ★ 5. Consequences: What kind of punishments will the darling face? How do they punish different offences?

Usually, his punishments are not that severe. He doesn’t penalize mild offences that he perhaps should: These include things like badmouthing him, yelling, trying to hurt him (with some exceptions), refusing to speak to him, that sort of thing. He doesn’t believe in reprimanding you more than strictly necessary, and the purpose is not to scare you or hurt you for the sake of it. Moreover, he doesn’t have any go-to methods; he will do whatever he deems suitable at the moment.

What he does punish you for, for example, is the aforementioned breaking things. He has a spare room in his residence for when he has to have you out of your own for whatever reason. It’s a crammed, empty space with no windows, and that’s where you’ll be spending an hour or two if you decide to trash what he has so gracefully provided you with. It’s dark in there, and it’s so narrow that you’re barely able to lie on the floor without your head or your feet touching the wall, so you don’t particularly enjoy the times he puts you in there. He might also throw you for a cooldown in the damned cabinet if you seriously don’t stop trying to beat him up. As much as he would like to, he really can’t have you trying to punch his face in when he’s trying to bring you dinner. He would prefer not to spill the food on the floor.

Then again, if you start getting a bit more creative with your attempts at trying to cause physical harm to him, you will face at least some degree of consequences. If you were to, say, try to stab him with your utensils when he comes to have lunch with you, he won’t take the action lightly. He obviously dodges the hit — what kind of a swordmaster would he be if his reflexes were that weak — but it’s the notion that he’s more concerned about. He firmly grabs your wrist in the air, giving it a warning squeeze. He lets you know that ”if you do it again, he’ll have to think of another way for you to eat”. The point gets across, at least for now. The same thing goes for things like, eh, assassination attempts while he’s sleeping, hurling sharp objects at him, and so on. You should know that his threats are not empty, either: He could feed you by hand if you prove untrustworthy with your chopsticks.

If he has time and he needs to teach you a lesson, one of his methods is forcing you to sit in his lap for hours on end. It’s not a particularly comfortable position for you: His legs are hoisted over yours, effectively locking you in place, and he’s holding both of your hands in one of his. No amount of struggling is going to get him to let you go until he’s satisfied. The duration of this procedure varies: It could be just for until he’s done with his work, or it could be basically for the entire day. You never know with him.

It also serves as an effective method to calm you down. It's how animals are soothed as well; by holding them down until the body gets the message that there's no danger. That, and the more energy you spend on trying to wrestle yourself out of his grasp, the calmer you are afterwards. It's not even that much of a punishment, truly; you should be grateful that this is his method.

If you try to escape from him, though, you’ll come to understand the worst extent of the consequences he can offer you. As much as he would like for it not to happen, you almost flee once when you, against his expectations, manage to ram yourself into the window with enough force to shatter the glass. It’s after a considerable amount of attempts, and you had to switch elbows after a while since your entire side felt like it was bruising, but after numerous times of running against the window, you hear how it cracks. A few more hits, and your entire arm crashes through the windowpane.

Your forearm suffers a deep gash in the process. Blood spills from the wound, but you have no time to think about stemming the flow as you focus on making the hole in the window large enough for you to fit through. You tear away a part of the now broken muntin to use as a tool to break away the sharpest points on the glass, being as quick and as precise as you’re possibly able. Within a few minutes, you deem your work good enough, set your foot on the window sill, and climb out of the building.

The General has been away for quite some time now. It’s only a matter of time that he returns to the house, so you know you need to be swift. The main exit is at the front of the house, and if you make it there, you’ll be free. Not caring about the way your own blood is staining your clothes red, you start running your way around the building.

The residence is not that big. It’s just that your room is facing the back side of the premises, right into his garden. You have to make it past the twisting paths that line the ponds and fountains, and then you’ll need to cross the smaller fence that separates the back from the front of the plot. Your panic is keeping your arm from hurting; the adrenaline is blocking the agony. You’re certain that the excruciating pain will catch up to you soon enough, and you would prefer that moment to be when you’re already far out of his reach. So, you leap over all that garnishes his yard, wetting your socks as you scramble through the water and to the other side where the inner fence stands.

The thing is higher than you remember, now that it actually comes to you having to jump over it; it’s all the way up to your neck. It would not be as strenuous of an effort if both of your arms were still in the game, but now, it’s a bigger challenge to get past the thing. You wince as you slide the pads of your fingers over the barrier's jagged texture.

Regardless, you have no choice but to make it through. Determined to make your escape, you start manoeuvring yourself over the fence with only one hand. Every single spot on your body strains as you do your best to see the endeavour through, and your palms scrape against the rough surface, most likely drawing blood. Still, clenching your teeth, you grasp the edge with all your might, fling one of your legs over the top, and with great pain, you manage to cross the fence.

Your body tumbles down onto the other side of the gravel. You fall right on your back on the hard ground, and you're hit with an overwhelming urge to vomit. However, you only allow yourself a single second of rest before rising onto your feet and directing your attention to the exit.

He’s standing there.

Your eyes lock with his. The expression on his face is completely unreadable. Though, if there’s one thing to note, it’s the fact that the usual smile has disappeared from his features. He stands completely still, staring at the sight of you with his hands resting on his sides.

You don’t make an attempt to sprint for the exit. You know you can’t make it past him. All hope you had gathered in your being dissipates into the air like it was never there. Despite your heart still hammering in your ears, you’re suddenly all too aware of how your wounded arm aches to the point of it radiating into your entire upper body.

He strides towards you. As a last ditch effort, you attempt to dart to the side and dive under his arm when he reaches out for you. For once, he doesn’t expect defiance, and you manage to evade his grasp. You manage to get a few meters further before you feel his fingers dig into the back of your shirt. He yanks you backwards with an unusual amount of force. You let out a yelp, choking at the way your collar tightens against your throat. Regardless, you do your best to turn around and rip his grip off of you. It’s a futile effort, of course, and with a single tug of his hand, he immobilizes your body against his.

You don’t fight him when he wordlessly wraps one arm over the backside of your thighs. He hoists you over his shoulder with roughness you’re not quite used to. The air is knocked out of your lungs as your chest is thrown against his upper back.

The entire aftermath is messy. Not necessarily physically, although it can be that, too, but emotionally. He doesn’t show it on his face, but you can’t miss the way his hands tremble the slightest bit; such bodily reaction is so out of ordinary for someone like him. The feeling is the same as when he first realized that his love for you was less that and more obsession. It’s the sudden realization that you could very well leave him if you so desired, and now that you have shown him that you’re capable of it, he has to admit it to himself that he truly has been startled. He’s nothing short of a level-headed man, but you’re the one piece in his life that threatens that.

He brings you into his room. As much as he's trying to curb his anger, he can't help the way he flings you onto his bed. You let out a frightened little yelp as he does, but he can't find it in himself to care. Instead, he climbs on top of you and grabs your entire face. His fingers dig into your cheeks, your temples, your jaw. Your eyes are blown wide open, trying to suck in frantic breaths through where his palm presses against your lips.

Then, his grip tightens. Simultaneously, his other hand latches around your wounded forearm, squeezing tight. Strangled wheezes and muffled pleas erupt from your mouth as his fingers sink into the open flesh, his nails sting against the gash, meant to hurt. Your entire body is trembling along with the whimpers that spill past your lips. Despite how you beg, his grip only gets more and more crushing.

You fear he's going to shatter your jaw. Your arm has gone numb from how much pain it has been projected to. Instead of your words, you attempt to plead with him with your eyes. It proves to be a terrifying task, however, when you come to find that his gaze is solely focused on your own. His pupils are sharp, his face expressionless, and most terrifyingly, he doesn't seem to have heard a single word you said. Your tears catch against hand, but not even that is enough to pull him out of his trance.

It's only when you let out a desperate shriek that his hand flies off your face like he had set it on a stovetop. A simple "ow-ow-OW" is enough to break him away from the daze, and in a split second, he releases his grip. You immediately curl in on yourself, bringing your bloodied arm against your heaving chest.

He himself is breathing heavily, too: Seeing the state that you're in, the reality becomes apparent to him. He rises off your body, sucking in a deep inhale and closing his eyes. For a moment, he just stands on his knees above your form, straddling you with his arms resting on his sides. You're not sure what it is that he's doing: It looks like he has fallen into another stupor, almost, but the way his fists are clenched tells a different story. It's not like you can really concentrate on the sight, though. Your eyes are swimming with tears, and the pain is so unbearable that you wonder how long you're going to be able to remain conscious.

Still, after a long minute, he opens his eyes and slowly exhales through his nose. Blinking a few times, his gaze settles on your form. He couldn’t care less for how the blood that now stains his hand seeps into your shirt as he softly sets his palm above your stomach. Your increasingly rapid pulse rushes beneath your sweat-clad skin where he gently pushes down on your abdomen. His lashes fall shut again.

He lets you know that he’s going to have to lock you in the spare room for a few days. You hardly even react to the statement, much too absorbed in your own thoughts and the pain that’s shooting up your arm. ”I know it’s not pleasant, but considering what you did, I assume you were prepared for it”, he continues, stroking his thumb against your skin.

He asks you to remain still while he goes get something for your wounds. Your face contorts to something akin to distress, but the expression fades away in the very same second. Instead, you let out a near-silent sob, and a single tear runs down your cheek.

˗ˏˋ ★ 6. Emotions I: How do they show love? How do they attempt to make the darling love them?

Jing Yuan is a force to be reckoned with when it comes to affection. Not only is he a naturally gentle person but also a sucker for romantic gestures. That being said, be prepared to be showered in (unwanted) love.

The first and biggest thing for him is touch. Touch here, touch there, touch-touch-touch. It’s like he has a health bar on him that gradually goes down and only regenerates when he gets to have his hands on you. That’s how much you have to deal with his physical side.

He can’t help it. Every chance he gets, you feel his fingers dancing along the curve of your shoulders, brushing through your hair, ”adjusting your clothing” in favour of getting to touch you. He loves the subtlety of it all: It’s enough to satisfy his need for closeness while simultaneously being just mild enough for you to not get upset at his ministrations. Of course, if you show a negative response, he won't push the limit too far. Be mindful, though, because rejecting his advances will only work at the start: If you don’t allow him to touch you, the eventual outcome is that he starts doing it against your will, and it’s only going to escalate from there. The man needs his hugs.

Ah, hugs. Those and cuddling are the source of his life energy. He does both multiple times a day, and whenever he does, you feel like his body is about to consume you. He’s a large man: His hand fits around your entire bicep, and he can hold your weight up with only one arm. That being said, he gets creative with how he embraces you. He could have you lie in his lap, either straight or sideways, or he could spoon you, or then he could just hug you the classic way. The front, the side, the back, he doesn’t really have a preference. If he makes you nap with him, he also enjoys sort of half-lying on top of you. He can’t do it with his full weight, of course, since he would crush you, but it’s comforting to him while simultaneously making sure that you can’t flee from him.

Then, he loves-loves-loves to massage you. He would do it every other hour if you just would let him. As much as you don’t like giving in to his whims, you must admit that he’s ridiculously good at it. If you’ve been looking especially groggy and irritable, he might take you to the garden and sit you down on the grass. You wonder if he’s going to make you play a game of his fuckass chess again, but no. Instead, he takes a seat behind you. With the back of his hand, he lightly nudges your lower back to coax you to straighten your posture, and as you do, his touch moves up to your shoulders.

The way his thumbs press against the muscle connecting the back of your neck to your shoulder is firm yet as gentle as he could possibly be. Carefully, he makes a repetitive, round shape on your skin before moving a little bit lower. His palms are so warm, and oh, it feels so good that a part of you wants to just stand up and leave in order to not give him the satisfaction of knowing exactly how pleasant it is. However, you don’t, and within ten minutes, his hands come up from either side of your neck to softly tilt your chin up because your head is starting to droop.

It also goes when you’re lying down. He does it in the bedroom (in an innocent way) since it’s much more convenient to have you rest on the bed on your stomach. He can have your back bare that way, too, and he's able to straddle you unlike when you’re sitting up. Scalp, feet, hands, he massages them all like it’s his favourite thing in the entire universe, which is probably not too far from the truth.

Other physical things he does include unlimited headpats, carrying you around (he takes a lot of pride in this one, and you’re not pleased), and playing with your hair to the point that he messes it up. He would probably stick a finger up your nose if it meant that he got to touch you. Though, if you’re really resistant to having him close to you, he tones it down quite a bit. He’s a respectful man, but admittedly, your life is a lot more pleasant if you just entertain him.

In addition, bathing with you is a thing he takes immense pleasure in. He has got quite a mane on his head, and if you do as well, he would like nothing more than to care for your hair for you. He has a big tub in his house for both of you to soak in, and he prolongs the washing time to the best of his ability until you forcibly remove yourself from the bath. Usually, you’re feeling a bit spiteful and don’t let him go beyond what’s necessary, but sometimes, you allow him to conduct the entire menu: He washes your whole body down, gives you a good back rub, takes care of your hair, everything. He would probably go into cardiac arrest if you showed any interest in doing the same for him, so that’s something to keep in mind.

Lastly, Jing Yuan is very good with words. He knows it himself, and he uses it to his advantage. It manifests in well-placed praises, beautifully phrased compliments, and the way he talks to you in general. His voice has that natural, calming sound to it, and in any other circumstances, hearing him would make you feel at ease. He compliments your looks, your person, everything. If you’re occupied with something, he often says a few nice words about whatever it is. His praises are plenty: He’s kind of desperate for you to feel even neutrally about him, and that occasionally shines through.

˗ˏˋ ★ 7. Emotions II: How do they deal with the darling’s emotions? How are outbursts handled? How do they attempt to comfort the darling?

Jing Yuan isn’t afraid of emotions in the general sense. He has lived long enough to have experienced the entire human spectrum of feelings, and he’s more than skilled in regulating them, both in himself and in others. He’s empathetic by nature, and so, dealing with your feelings is simultaneously easy and arduous for him.

You don’t show him anger that often. It never gets a reaction out of him nor does it make him give you any leeway regarding anything, really. Yes, you sometimes scream at him and throw insults his way, but it never seems to faze him. The same thing goes with physically lashing out, as talked about, since he just holds you against his body until your little fit of rage passes. He doesn’t usually seem bothered by it, either: The startled animal analogy stands.

He does get much more receptive, however, when your emotions make themselves known in a more woeful manner, and only then does he attempt to genuinely console you. He knows you have a lot of feelings about the entire situation you have been put in, so here and there, he encourages you to vent them to him. His mind can suffer much more sorrow than yours, after all. He makes an effort to ask you how you’re faring quite often, and unlike most people, he genuinely expects an honest answer.

It’s not only the abduction and captivity themselves that you have a hard time processing internally. There’s also the factor that you used to be romantically interested in the man, at least until a certain point — and the sentiment is the complete opposite nowadays. You still haven’t quite taken the time for yourself to untangle the thoughts affiliated with the events that have taken place; the betrayal is a difficult topic to get into. Often, you prefer to let the anguish burst out when he isn’t around since seeing the person responsible for it all would only make it worse. In the middle of planning your escape and whatnot, you sometimes cry for a while, just to dull out the despair that ripples inside of you. It doesn’t help with anything, really; you’re aware that you’re wasting the precious hours of your time free of his presence, but you do tend to feel a little bit afterwards.

Even if you try to be discreet about it, there are bound to be instances when he happens to walk in on your weakest moments. Maybe he’s returning early from his work, and the first thing he seeks out, naturally, is you. However, when he opens the door to your room, he comes to find that you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, face hidden in your hands as your shoulders heave. It doesn’t take him more than a few seconds to figure out the situation, but he needs to spare a moment to consider what his next course of action should be. Soon enough, though, he slowly makes his way to your quivering form.

Your weight shifts as he sits down next to you on the bed. Of course, even if you didn’t acknowledge his presence, you noticed him entering the room. You guessed that he might try to offer comfort to you, and whether or not you wished for him to do so, you don’t reject his advances.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you to him. He might open his mouth to either speak your name in a soft tone or just to let out a quiet sigh, but there are no words beyond that. Whatever it is that is the cause for your sadness, his main method is to calm you down with his physical presence, true to his nature. He coaxes you to lie down over his lap, to rest your head on his thigh. When he has you in that position, he starts running his fingers through your hair, careful and gentle. If you’re receptive, he may inquire about the reason behind your tears but if not, he’s going to continue lulling you into serenity until you tire yourself out enough to fall asleep.

Sleeping is a particularly effective way to get you in a better mood again, he has noticed. So if he catches you feeling down, his first suggestion is always to take a nap. He’s free to do so almost whenever you want, and even if you don’t accept the offer most of the time, he’s all the more elated when you do.

˗ˏˋ ★ 8. Thing to exploit: What are the darling’s best chances at escaping? Are there things the darling can use to their advantage? How can the darling make things easier for themselves?

The best things to take advantage of are mostly related to his trust in his methods and your perceived incapability of breaking through them. Compared to other possible candidates, he’s not the paranoid kind that would seal every single crack in the wall and chain all your limbs to the bed, so in that sense, you have a much better base for fleeing than with someone like, say, Sunday. The difficult part of it all is that although his precautions aren’t innumerable, they’re still, unfortunately, effective enough. As mentioned before, you can’t pick the lock on the door, and he installs iron bars on the window after your first attempt. Trying to shank him is off the table for obvious reasons. Despite not being aware of it yourself, you run out of options much faster than one would expect.

Under no circumstances are you allowed to have a phone; he took care of your previous one. That, and a few weeks after your disappearance, the efforts to locate you have been deemed unfruitful, and the search has halted. That’s all the more convenient from his perspective, but you’re quite devastated to hear the news. However, such is the life at the Xianzhou Luofu: So many people go missing yearly that they can only spare a limited amount of resources on finding a single person before they have to move over to the next case. The current theory on your vanishing is that you were ambushed by some Mara-struck beasts and failed to make it out of their clutches. Essentially, you have been ruled dead. That being said, the main take-away is that nobody is searching for you.

Your most notable chances at making it out are with outside help. Though, as stated, Jing Yuan doesn’t let you see anybody aside from him under normal circumstances, so it's not just any outside help. You’re going to need to get your hands dirty if you want to add people to your rapidly-shrunken social circle.

Namely, a certain healer is your best bet. You might think that Jing Yuan is never going to let you see anybody else aside from him, due to the fact that your location being leaked could cause a scandal that would quake the entire ship, but this is actually not the case. Namely, after your first escape attempt that ended up with the skin on your forearm being shredded, you’ll get to meet a strange Foxian man.

He shows up not long after Jing Yuan locked you in the spare room with your loosely bandaged arm and tells you that he ”has to take care of something”. That something ends up being calling a healer over since tending your wound seemed a tad bit too far out of his expertise. When the lock to your dark prison opens, instead of being faced with the familiar silhouette of your captor, there’s a shorter man standing beside the door frame. He has pale, peach-coloured hair and wears a red coat over the traditional Luofu attire. Most prominently, his eyes are closed, even though you sense that his attention is fully on you.

You don’t get to know his name, even though you make a point to ask him about it multiple times. You beg him to let somebody outside know that you’re alive, that you didn’t meet your end in the claws of the mara-struck beasts, but instead of helping you, he lets you know in a calm voice that ”he’s only here to take care of your injury, nothing more”. He doesn’t say it in a mean tone, though: It’s more of a statement. The ever-so-pleasant smile on his face is way too reminiscent to the one on your captor’s own that it makes you want to refuse the help altogether. However, looking at the sorry state of your arm, you swallow your protests and let him do his work.

At first, it’s no use trying to ask him for anything. You come to find quite quickly that the guy has an equally morally questionable streak as the General himself; or perhaps he’s just incredibly good at masking his intentions. If you attempt to chat with him while he stitches you up, he might entertain you if the topics are light-hearted. Anything else is a no-go, though — it seems that he has been given quite specific orders about what he can and what he cannot talk to you about. So, after he's done with his job, he leaves without having left you with anything useful.

It’s not the brightest idea, perhaps, but you figure that if you got hurt badly enough, he would have to come in again. There are multiple ways you could go about it: You could pretend to have twisted your ankle, or perhaps you could convince your captor that you have been suffering from a terrible headache. Then again, it’s likely that he would see through your act, so going the authentic route is unfortunately the better option. You could shove a handful of dirt in your mouth from the flowerbed when his attention is elsewhere. The fever you end up getting is admittedly a pain, but you succeed in your main objective nonetheless.

The healer is merciful enough to give you his name now that the two of you meet for the second time. Jiaoqiu, he calls himself. You get a strange vibe from the man: He doesn’t exactly wear his heart on his sleeve, and you have a difficult time making sense of his intentions. He doesn’t seem to be completely under Jing Yuan’s foot, however, and you decide to take advantage of that.

You could offer him something in return or conduct a plan that would guarantee that the escape would never be tracked to him. You must have quite a lot of wit to pull it off, but Jiaoqiu might very well provide you with some vital knowledge on how you could concoct a certain type of drug from the plants in the garden. Be careful, though, because discerning whether the glint in those squinted eyes of his is of genuine benevolence or something downright malicious is a tough task. It would be a shame if your escape would end up with you in a different house but under the exact same circumstances.

˗ˏˋ ★ 9. Further notes: Is there anything that sets them apart from the other yanderes? What unique qualities do they possess?

Firstly, your will to fight is much weaker than with other yanderes because Jing Yuan is just so… nice. That's not to excuse any of his actions, but he’s just a remarkably pleasant person to be around aside from all the immoral things he puts you through. He’s rarely rough except for when a situation strictly requires it, and he’s never anything but kind when it comes to you. Don’t be fooled, he can and will be firm when need be, but it’s not his usual way of going about things. He likes you most when you’re as happy as you can be, considering the context.

It doesn’t mean you won’t still rebel against him, though — the occasions where he has to take something away from you because you’ve been planning an escape are practically a weekly event. That, and you still try to throw hands at him sometimes. You're lucky he finds it sort of cute, but it's really not something he enjoys.

So, he comes up with a plan to maybe redirect your thoughts from the schemes and struggling. Specifically, he will present you with a deal: Alright, he will let you go, but it’s under a singular condition. You’ll have to beat him in a swordfight.

You look at him like he has lost the last bits of his sanity. Surely, he must know it himself that you’re not going to bite on such obvious bait: There’s no way that you would ever be able to best him in any form of martial arts, be it a sword or a glaive or a bow or anything in between. You wonder if he’s poking fun at you, mocking you for being so weak that you can’t even put up a proper fight against him. That would be the most obvious answer, but the expression on his face tells a different story; there seems to be something more to the suggestion.

You haven’t held a sword more than a few times in your entire life, and truth to be told, you didn’t expect the next instance to be when you’re about to duel the General himself for your compromised freedom. Nevertheless, that’s where you find yourself: You’re standing a short distance away from him in the yard, with a much-too-heavy blade in your trembling hands, while he’s holding his weapon of choice with accustomed composure. He teaches you the etiquette, instructing you to point your sword at him and greet your opponent. You roll your eyes, doing just that, and he mirrors your movements before the duel commences.

You barely manage to register the shape of him as he lunges towards you in a fraction of a millisecond. In the blink of an eye, a deafening sound of two pieces of metal clashing together pierces the air, and the next thing you know is that your sword is sticking out of his fence, the blade having sunk deep into the stone, horizontal. You can’t help the way your jaw falls slack as you stare at the sight. You look at the fence, then at your hands, then back at the fence. You foolishly thought that he would maybe go a little easier on you since you and him both are very much aware that you’re no swordswoman, but apparently, that was not the case.

He lets out a soft chuckle. ”Hm, looks like I have come out victorious”, he utters through poorly masked amusement. You wonder how quick you would have to be to punch the smile off of his face.

NS-FW

˗ˏˋ ★ 10. General look: How does their sexuality manifest? What does sex mean to them? How horny are they?

Yes, he is a somewhat sexual person. As mentioned, bodily closeness is a big thing to him, so it's only logical that it extends to this side of things as well. He sees sex as a tool to use for bonding, something to show affection with: Naturally, you’re going to be the target of said form of love.

Outwardly, he keeps his urges reserved. It wouldn’t be becoming of somebody in his position to be very open about their sexual side, after all. He does take care of himself in private, though. He has quite a high drive — or, perhaps it would be better to talk about a need for physical intimacy. He doesn’t like to talk about ”urges” himself since it makes the matter sound like it’s something uncontrollable. He’s adept at keeping himself in check, and so he doesn’t indulge in sexual pleasures as much as one would expect. Yes, he does turn to his hand a few days a week, but nothing beyond that.

He wouldn’t describe sex as being exhilarating to him, either. He doesn’t think of it as dirty or something to be ashamed about at all. It’s not about taking care of needs for him; it’s for two people to enjoy each other’s presence. He’s a bit conservative like that, but can you blame him? He has been alive for multiple centuries, so for him to crave something beyond a few strokes and a quick release is more than fair.

Don’t get him wrong: He has his fair share of experience when it comes to sexual activities. He didn’t spend all his years celibate, so he wouldn’t call the wonder of the female body a mystery to him. He’s quite receptive when it comes to how you react to his touch in general, and he seems to know just where to prod and press to get you to melt under his hands. You’ll soon come to know that there’s another way for him to benefit from that particular skill.

˗ˏˋ ★ 11. Limit: How long does it take for them to have the darling? What is the first time like? Do they care about the darling’s willingness?

He would really prefer it if you came to him willingly. Taking away one’s sexual autonomy is one of the cruelest things that he thinks could be done to a person, and so, you’re given a generous amount of time before he gives in to his feelings. It does depend on your behaviour, somewhat: If you’re particularly averse to the idea of him touching you even in completely innocent ways, his patience can stretch for months on end — he has got time. Then, on the other hand, if you don’t seem to mind him having his hands on you, the period might be shorter.

When it does happen, though, he won’t be callous or forceful (in a sense) about it. On a random Monday, as he serves you your breakfast, he will inform you about a certain plan this week. Specifically, he lets you know that ”sometime during this week, he’s going to have you”. Of course, you need to go over the sentence a few times in your mind before you even begin to comprehend the meaning behind it. Your eyes widen, and you shake your head in defiance, telling him that ”there’s no way you’ll do something like that”. However, by this point, your fate is pretty much set in stone, and he won’t relent even if you were to throw a fit or two. Besides, he’s being lenient: He assures you that he isn’t going to just take you without a warning — you get to decide when it happens, but it has to be in the following six days, or even today, if you’re feeling like it!

So, needless to say, you make him hold out until the very last hours, all the way to when the last rays of daylight disappear behind the horizon. You have been nothing but anxious the entire week, he has noted. You’re much jumpier than usual, and you have been evading his touches to the best of your ability, no matter how soft he has been. That, and he has had to watch out for your escape attempts even more than normal. You really aren’t fond of the idea, he thinks to himself as he watches you sit in the dark in the corner of your room, knees pressed against your chest. You’re completely motionless and rigid, down to your eyes: You’re looking directly at his form in the doorway, not even blinking in case that would open a window for him to reach for you.

He attempts to talk to you. The task proves to be difficult, however, as you only continue ogling at him in silence, flinching at even the tiniest movements he makes. Perhaps it would’ve been better not to give you a heads-up about the sex after all, he thinks: You wouldn’t have had time to build up the fear as much. Your head must be swimming with all kinds of horror scenarios about what he’s going to do to you, he thinks. He sighs out loud.

Your jaw clenches as he crouches down in front of you. You have made yourself as small as possible, and he feels like he’s approaching a flightless bird. Still, you don’t kick at him when he rests his hand over your leg and begins stroking the skin up and down in a soothing manner. You do try to pull away from him, but considering your position, you’re unable to make a difference. ”You don’t have to be scared”, he tells you, gently pulling on your ankle, coaxing you out of your hiding place.

You’re not about to tolerate his advances even a second longer. So, you fling your hand out, land a mean slap on his wrist, and fight yourself out of his grasp. You yell words of defiance at him, standing up from your spot with shaky legs before trying to leap past his form. He's quick to catch you by your thigh, however, and you nearly fall over. Instead of making your escape, you land in his firm grasp.

If there’s one thing that you have learned while in captivity, it’s that Jing Yuan’s grip is inescapable. No matter how you flail, he catches both of your arms in one hand and lifts you in the air with little to no effort. By this point, you’ve resorted to pleading with him to give you a few more minutes to prepare. More concerningly, though, you start spewing out things like ”please don’t hurt me” and ”I’ll be good, I promise I’ll be good”. Goodness, it does wound him a little bit that you would think such things of him. Of course he isn’t going to hurt you. What he’s about to do is the farthest thing from that.

You’re laid on the bed. He frees your arms for a second to adjust his own position, but he snatches them right back before you can even think of clawing at him. You’re hardly able to move at all as he presses his weight down on you, effectively pinning your form in place on the mattress. He leans down so that you’re face-to-face, his open hair coming to frame the sides of your head. Still smiling, he's looking down at you with a tiniest amount of pity in his gaze. In contrast, your teeth are clenched, and you’re breathing as heavy as if you had just finished a run, but he really can't find it in himself to care that much.

He lets you know that there’s no escaping your fate, but that he’s open to suggestions if there’s anything you would like to do. There are a few options: You could start by making out, or he could go straight to prepping your downstairs for him. He could massage you, even. It could get the blood flowing, he muses. He talks to you in such a soft tone that you wonder if you’re understanding his words correctly. Maybe you would prefer it if you just kissed for a little while beforehand? Would you like him to eat you out, perhaps?

You're unable to get a single word out. He waits for you to take courage for a moment, caressing along your neck and chest area with his free hand. He means for it to be calming, but the effect is the exact opposite as tears fill your waterline. He looks down at you with a sympathetic expression, swiping the pad of his thumb under your eyes, and then he leans in to kiss you. Unlike the brute strength he uses to hold you down, his lips move tenderly against yours; it's a maddening, incomprehensible contrast. Your sobs are swallowed by his mouth.

You feel him start stripping you down. There's not much you can do when he pulls your shirt up, when his touch lands on one of your breasts. His hand is large enough to fit the entire mound in its grasp. Then, his fingers creep down your stomach, and in the next moment, they slip down the front of your bottom.

Nonetheless, no matter what kind of foreplay you chose (or if he chose for you), you’re going to eventually end up under him, completely bare, chest pressed against the mattress with your lower half in the air. His hand is heavy on both of your wrists, pinning you down with the force of a thousand boulders. You can feel his naked body flush against your back, and something prodding between your thighs. He has prepped you thoroughly, but no amount of stretching in one night could ready you for what is about to come.

You know there’s no stopping him now. Not that you would've been able to reason with him before, but as the main course is now becoming reality, the dread in your stomach is boiling over. You don’t know what you should think: You have been sniffling the entire time, you have struggled as hard as you could, but he’s still being so damn gentle with you that your brain is having a hard time keeping up. You understand, at a conceptual level, that you're about to be violated to a point of no return, but at the same time, his touch is so tender. No matter how you will your body to resist, you're unable to summon the strength to find his ministrations repulsive. His strokes are like a sedative seeping into your skin.

His cock nudges against the entrance of your cunt. Your eyes widen, and every muscle in your body tenses. His grip on your wrists tightens.

It’s big. It’s really big. You feel the shape of it against your inner thighs. There’s no way something like that is going to fit into you just like that: It would be like ramming a log into a keyhole. Fortunately, he himself is aware of the very same fact: He knows he’s generously sized when it comes to his dick, and he’s also conscious of the fact that the first time is probably going to sting a bit. For you, not for him. Furthermore, he feels the way the muscles in your lower abdomen have gone completely rigid, and there’s no way he can get inside you like that.

His exhales tickle your ear as he leans into the side of your face. His warm hand snakes around your waist and presses just above the curve of your cunt. ”Relax these here for me”, he rubs his fingers against the area over your pubic bone. When you don’t do as you’re told, he forces your chest even lower with his body weight, deepening the arch your back has formed. He’s as patient as ever, but his breaths are the tiniest bit laboured. You loathe the implication.

”And these ones as well”, he instructs as the pads of his fingers glide over the inner sides of your hipbones. You can’t help but shudder when you feel his cock twitch against your thighs. ”Don’t fight it… There you go”. His hand is large enough to rest over your entire lower abdomen. It’s searing hot against your skin.

You hear a container pop open. In the next moment, his lube-clad fingers slip inside your cunt as a final act of mercy. You whimper at the sensation, clenching your fingers into wrists, trying to twist your arms free, but it's no use. He hardly pays any mind to your struggling at all, spreading the slick around with care, and after his hand withdraws, you hear the squelching sound of him giving the same treatment to his cock. Then, you feel his tip prod at your entrance.

You and him both know that it’s not going to be pleasant the first time around. His chest rests heavy against your back, moulding you into a horribly pliant position. He moves your hair out from in front of your ear. His voice is no louder than a whisper as he gives you a final warning: ”It’s going to hurt a bit. You’ll be alright”. His entire arm wraps around your ribcage, effectively locking you in place. ”3… 2… 1…”, and he pushes in.

Oh, it’s excruciating. You let out a shriek so loud that it could be heard in the entire Luofu if he didn’t shove your face against the pillow just in time. You feel like your bottom half is being skewered on a pole: He went in all the way with a single shove. The agony you're in couldn't possibly be put into words: It's searing hot, agonizing pressure that reaches all the way up to your stomach. Still, even though he feels how your little cunt is spasming in place, doing its hardest to push the intrusion out, he keeps you firmly pressed against him, preventing you from allowing yourself even the slightest bit of slack. "It's better this way", he thinks. It's like tearing of a band aid: It's only going to hurt more if you go slow.

He swipes his fingers around where his cock is stretching your cunt and brings his hand up to his eyes. You let out a wretched sob, and in a voice no louder than a whisper, you ask him if you're bleeding. ”A little”, he gives a scant answer to your question in a rather nonchalant tone. He doesn’t seem too bothered by the pain he has caused, though, because after the few minutes of adjustment time he grants you, he starts thrusting into you at a pace that conveys nothing short of the frustration he has been building up for the past however long it took for him to have you. In an act of clemency, his hand slithers in between your legs to roll your clit in between his fingers as he kisses the side of your face. You can only clench your hands into fists and take what he has in store for your poor body.

˗ˏˋ ★ 12. Preferences: What is sex with them like? What sort of stuff are they into? What kind of kinks do they have?

He likes traditional sex the most. You know, the two of you, on a plush bed, bodies pressed against each other, warm and full of passion. He prefers sexual activities to be loving and emotionally fulfilling above all, hence the partiality. Though, that’s not to say that he doesn’t indulge himself in certain tools in the bedroom in favour of spicing the act up a little.

Bondage (shibari in particular)

Jing Yuan isn’t particularly interested in trying to pleasure you with anything other than his own body, but there is one exception to that: Rope. Red rope, specifically. He enjoys restraining you with his own strength, yes, and he does that a lot of the time, but tying you down is, admittedly, a lot more effective. He can enjoy himself a little more that way, too, since he doesn’t have to worry about you trying to struggle yourself out of his grasp.

He just… brings it up one time when your form is already settled on the sheets. He stands at the foot of the bed with a hank of scarlet material draped over one of his forearms. Smirking down at your shivering body, he whips the rope in his hands, testing its durability in an impish manner. He twirls it around his fingers, relishing the way your expression portrays the swarm of thoughts rushing around in your mind. He can’t help but find it cute; the way your lip quivers and how your legs tremble with anticipation for what is to come.

He knows all kinds of things when it comes to the art of bondage. He has had plenty of time to acquire experience in this field: Knots, links, he can do it all. You come to understand his expertise the second he gets to work on your body. You’re going to be bound from head to toe, clad in intricate patterns he weaves with his hands. He’s so thorough with it that you’re not even able to do as much as wiggle your fingers when he’s done. He doesn’t have a favourite routine, either! Everything goes — criss-cross over your body, twisting you in all kinds of bizarre positions (hopefully you’re flexible), even crotchrope. The crotchrope is a common occurrence, in fact. Not only does he love how it looks on you, but he often makes a knot on it right where the rope presses against your cunt. He can only marvel at the way it rubs against your clit when you move even the slightest bit.

He will absolutely have you suspended from the ceiling while tied, too. It allows him to see you as you are, without all the defenses you have put up against him, in all of your beauty and complexity. Of course, the main objective is to either fuck, finger you or eat you out, but sometimes, he can’t help but enjoy the mere sight of you. It’s adorable, really, how you’re all helpless in your bindings, whining at him to let you down, how ”the rope is chafing against your…”. Little do you know that that sentence alone is enough to spring his cock up like stepping on a rake. He only coos at you before sliding his finger underneath the string traveling between your thighs before pulling it taut.

Occasionally, when he has time, he might just hang you from the ceiling in his work room. You’re dangling there, all still and pretty while he takes care of his more boring responsibilities. Your bare nipples are pebbled from being exposed to the cool air, and your cunt is glistening from the relentless stimulation that the bindings are subjecting it to. With every tiny movement you make, the knots rub directly against your clit. He watches the show with keen eyes and merely chuckles at your misery.

Oral

It’s easily his favourite. The second is dicking you down, naturally, but there’s just something about eating you out that gets him going like nothing else. It’s intimate, it feels incredible, and his technique is impeccable. He devours you like he’s starving, and you should know that it’s not going to be only one round when he truly gets excited.

It could be while you’re tied up, or he could simply hold your hips down when he goes to town on your bits. His hands are firmly slotted around your upper thighs, keeping you flush against his face. The tip of his nose nudges your clit with every lick, his tongue is rubbing against your walls, and no matter how you tug at his hair or tell him to stop, he won’t. He occasionally dips down to your other hole as well. He knows it can be incredibly stimulating down there, too, so what kind of a person would he be to not take advantage of that?

He gets creative with the positions, too. It could be the classic one where you’re lying down on your back and he’s on all fours in between your legs. Or, then it could be something completely different like folding you in half with your entire lower body off the bed, or having you basically sit on his face as he comes up from underneath you while you’re suspended in the air, or it could be him standing up, holding your weight up by himself, your cunt in his face and his crotch against yours.

Oh, and he does like 69. He’s alright with it no matter how: You on the bottom, him at the bottom, the two of you sideways, in the air, anything goes. It’s a known fact by now that his junk is big, so it’s a bit of an effort on your end to even get him into his mouth without your jaw locking. He won’t fuck your face, ever, partially for that very reason — it would not be very sexy to have to explain what went down to Jiaoqiu when he would have to come in to take care of the aftermath— and on the other hand, he doubts it would be very pleasant for you either way. His goal is not to have you choke, obviously. Though, be prepared to take at least a little bit of him past your lips: 69 is a two-person activity after all.

He likes to stick his fingers in you in the meantime, too. Cunt, ass, or both at the same time. It gets a bit exasperating after a while, though, because he has you coming in a matter of minutes meanwhile he’s not even close to his own climax. He tells you that ”it’s quite alright, he wasn’t done with you anyway”, and despite his ”well-meaning” words, you only feel dread. Getting him to finish proves to be a more arduous task than you figured it would be. That, and he won’t stop eating your cunt before you succeed in getting him to come, too. He promises that he won’t overstimulate you too much — he can keep a little break in between — but you’ll still be a complete mess when he finally gets his climax. And then you’ll take his cock. Good luck.

Praise, voice, and words

Oh, his voice. His tone is pleasant: It’s calm, it’s comforting, and he always seems to know just what to say. Before the sour side of events took place, you would've been fine with listening to him talk about his day, what’s going on at the Seat of Divine Foresight, whatever, for hours on end. His voice has that certain ASMR quality to it, almost. However, you just wish he didn’t have to speak such filth directly in your ear while his dick is splitting you in half.

It’s never, ever, mean, though. He would rather set you free than ever degrade you. Sex is supposed to make you feel good about yourself, so what purpose would that serve? That being said, the praises he utters are both genuine and so exaggerated that they nearly make you roll your eyes. ”You look ravishing like this”, he whispers against your temple as you’re tied up from head to toe, his fingers knuckle-deep in your cunt. ”This here”, he continues, circling your clit with the pad of his thumb, ”is especially mesmerizing”. Not only does he punctuate the sentence with a deep curl of his digits, but the way he so closely scrutinizes your bits is enough to inadvertently humiliate you beyond repair. You feel his gaze on you, and with every soft hum he lets out of his mouth, you get closer to your climax.

Even though he doesn’t mean it, his praise occasionally comes off as belittling. You’re lodged under him, speared down on his dick, and he has the audacity to open his mouth. ”You’re doing so well, just bear with it for a little”, or ”there’s only a little blood, you’re alright, you’re alright”, or ”you’re being so good for me, darling”. It’s all the while you’re struggling to even breathe with how deep he is inside you. He loves pet names, too: His personal favourite is, ironically, the aforementioned darling, but the list also includes names like good girl, babybird and pretty little thing. They all have a bit of a nasty ring to them, considering your circumstances, but nothing you say will stop him from using them.

He also tries to get you to communicate during the deed. It’s a common thing for him to ask you how something feels, if you’re feeling good, if you’re hurting anywhere. The concern he shows is genuine, unlike with someone like, say, Aventurine: He’s open to criticism when it comes to his performance. If his fingers are prodding at a bad spot (which they rarely are), then by all means, let him know and he’ll fix it. Oh, ”the ropes are digging into your wrists”? Give him a second, he’ll loosen them up a bit. "Too deep"? Well, there's not much he can do about that one, sorry.

Lastly, he has a very true-to-him thing he does in the act that always manages to flip your stomach upside down. While rocking into you and twirling your clit in between his fingers, he’s coaxing you closer and closer to your climax. No matter how hard you try to fight the feeling, no matter how you try to distance yourself, when he presses his lips against your temple and hums out a deep, low note directly into your ear, you’re done for. He finishes the action by planting a kiss on the lobe, and just like that, your cunt constricts around him, and your stiff body goes completely slack under his touch. He has you right where he likes you the best.

Manhandling and size kink

He likes to claim that it’s unintentional. It’s not — he’s doing it fully on purpose, and it’s one of his favourite parts of the act. If he wanted to, he could fold you into every position imaginable, and you would have zero say in the matter. Compared to your strength, he’s like a damn Aurumaton. A single hand of his is large enough to clasp around both of your ankles; not to mention your wrists. You weigh practically nothing to him, and so he’s able to hold you against the wall, in the air, however he likes. There’s also the aspect that, technically speaking, he could snap your spine in a single movement if he so desired. He’s a large man: No matter how tall you are, he’s taller, and no matter how strong you are, he’s stronger. He’s faster, he’s more agile, he’s better than you in every single physical way. You can’t really blame him for using those qualities to his advantage.

That being said, he gets kicks from seeing you struggle. It’s not something he wants to admit out loud since it would emphasize the implication that it’s against your will, but he does enjoy it nonetheless. He has a clear dominant streak to him, and it manifests in being in complete control of you. He gets to be in charge of the pace, he gets to determine when you're going to come, and he gets to lay his claim on you in this incredibly primitive way. The sheer thought of it makes him hard.

It’s kind of a protective instinct, too. More often than not, when he’s dicking you down, his body encases yours, his warmth seeps into your skin, and there’s no escaping his embrace. It’s suffocating, but at the same time, you do feel secure in a sick, twisted way, almost. It’s like being contained in a glass box where nothing can get to you, but you can’t get out, either. And the box also makes you come, whatever that implies.

Then, there’s his size. And the talk is not only about his stature here. He likes how small you are compared to him. It’s so easy to pick you up, to throw you over his shoulder, to carry you to the bed and give you a thorough fucking when you’re being disagreeable or if he just wants some. He finds the size difference quite arousing in a strange way: He doesn't know how to describe the feeling out loud, but seeing such a pretty little thing like you under him, how one of his hands is large enough to grab both of your breasts, how even a single finger of his enough to give your cunt a considerable, stretch... Oh my. Can you really blame him?

Lastly, occasionally, although he doesn’t mean it, he leaves marks on you. Namely, bruises are somewhat common, and there are very few times when he doesn’t at least leave red patches on your skin from where he has been holding you. He swears it isn’t his intention, but you start to doubt his credibility when he doesn’t make any efforts to tone it down. Your hips, thighs, waist and wrists are the usual spots of interest, but he can't get himself to worry about the imprints too much since he's the only one that gets to see them, anyway. Ah, but he understands that they must ache a bit. Come here, he'll massage them all better. He promises not to go as hard the next time (he doesn’t even believe his own words).

Insane mouth game

Simply put, he's a slut for tongue action. Whether it be a good, long make-out session or just a chaste peck on your cheek, or even his face in between your legs, he's all in. It's how he shows that he cares, among all the other things he does to you. It doesn't matter what has gone down that day, bedroom or otherwise, he's sure to have his lips on you in one way or another. In his mind, there's nothing more intimate than giving your partner pleasure with only your mouth, and you'll come to see that he lives by that statement.

It turns out that the Aeons blessed him with quite a long tongue, and he couldn't be happier about it when it comes to you. It reaches all the way deep into your cunt when he's devouring your lower half, and when he's kissing you, you can feel the thing in the back of your throat. He isn't particularly shy when it comes to mouth action in any way, and so, his kisses are wet, sloppy and incredibly intense. When he goes down on you, he sucks, he licks, and truly eats you out. Other things he enjoys doing is licking his way down your body, leaving streaks of saliva along the juncture of your neck, the valley between your breasts, your inner thighs, your feet, even. He plants open-mouthed kisses on all of your most sensitive spots, and the way you shiver and whimper from the feeling is truly and utterly exquisite in his eyes.

Your neck is quite often the target of his actions. It doesn't even have to lead to sex, either. Sometimes, when you're sitting on his lap, he likes to cover your entire upper body in his love. Despite your struggling, his lips are flush against your shoulders, your neck, your collarbones, leaving traces of spit all over your skin until you feel all gross. He tends to leave a good few marks in his wake, too: Bright red hickeys in various sizes litter your form, and even when you comment on them looking vulgar, he does very little to change his ways.

Then, the proper kisses. The endless stream of pecks on your lips, his tongue in your mouth, his saliva mixing with yours. It's like he's attempting to breathe you in with how his lips mould against yours. You can't refuse his affections, either: Usually, he tilts your head up by your chin to kiss you, but if you pull away, he's going to grab your jaw and squish your cheeks together. The outcome is always the same. He does it numerous times a day, too.

˗ˏˋ ★ 13. Punishment: What do their sexual punishments look like? What methods do they prefer?

Jing Yuan prefers not to punish you sexually. It goes against everything he believes in when it comes to the act itself, and he refuses to weaponize something like that.

That doesn’t mean he won’t still do it, though. He swears up and down that oh, he would never, but here we are. If you’ve been doing something you shouldn’t have, he won’t immediately toss you on the bed and fuck you stupid like a lot of other yanderes would, but you’ll come to see later that day that, no, he didn’t just forget about it. When the evening comes rolling around, his irritation is nearly palpable. Usually, he would give you at least some warning before the deed would commence, but now, he just picks you up bridal style and carries you to his bedroom.

He doesn’t prep you as well as he would any other time. The stretch is even more painful, but he doesn’t seem to give two fucks about how you slap his arm and try to tell him that it hurts. He tells you to bear with it, unlike the gentle approach you’re used to. His grip on you is harsher, too, but despite it all, his attitude hasn’t changed much. His tone is still soft, but it doesn’t translate to how roughly he’s fucking into you. Surprisingly enough, he never ties you down when he’s making a point, but it doesn’t make the experience any more survivable. By the time he’s done, you will have been reduced to a barely coherent mess.

Uncharacteristically, he tends to overstimulate you when he’s mad, too. Usually, as mentioned, he will give you breaks in between your orgasms, but not this time around. Instead, no matter how fast or slow you have come, he just keeps going without missing a single beat. You may struggle all you want, it’s only going to make him go harder. You complain that ”it’s too intense”, and to "please give you a break", but with a soft, warm tone, he tells you that it’s exactly how it’s meant to be. He makes an effort to spread your labia to get his finger directly on your clit, rubbing his pad against it in a manner that's nothing short of torturous. His touch is directly on your nerves, and the overload of simultaneous pain and pleasure is so agonizing that you wish you could pass out right then and there. Sometimes, he won't stop until you have done just that.

So, punishment sex with him (again, he doesn’t like to describe it that way himself) is basically just marathon sex. Plenty of rounds, all lasting a considerable amount of time, and he twists you around like a ragdoll. Even if you start crying halfway through, he won’t care much. Most he will do is use the back of his finger to wipe your tears away, but that’s all while he’s thrusting into your tired insides. Yes, he does try to make it feel nice to you, sort of — he focuses on your clit, your nipples, kissing the back of your neck and along your spine, stroking your thighs, but it’s still a harsh ride.

Seeing the effect these sessions have on you, it becomes a bit of a habit for him to fuck his vexations out on you. That includes when you’re in a mood, too. It’s like a tool to calm you down: After a few orgasms, you have got some feel-good hormones running in your veins, and you’re much more compliant. Less insults, less sulking, less rejecting his touches. He makes sure to praise you when you’re this way, too.

One thing that he does when he’s slightly irked by your behaviour and doesn't really have the time for the full thing is have you sit down on his cock while he works. Obviously, your cunt is doing its absolute best trying to accommodate his size, and even with zero movement, it’s an entire achievement to stay still for the hour or so that it takes for him to cave in. He doesn’t let you shift even the slightest bit, not even to adjust your position in his lap. One of his arms is tightly secured around your waist, preventing you from squirming. He himself can’t even focus on what he’s doing: Truth to be told, he has to read the same block of text at least three times to understand what it says. Each time he exhales, your cunt squeezes around his cock, and as much as he wants to make a point with it all, he himself is about to go insane. It won’t be long until he takes care of both of you.

˗ˏˋ ★ 14. Aftermath: What does their aftercare look like? Is there any?

He’s very thorough about it. Sex with him can be emotionally intense, especially when it comes to the long sessions, so he puts a lot of importance on taking care of you after he’s done.

The very first thing he does is ask you how you’re feeling. It comes before anything else — you haven’t even come down from your last climax of the night, and he has to repeat the question for you to make sense of what he’s saying. More often than not, you’re a bit offended by the gesture, spitting out a weary yet snarky response before rolling over to your side and turning your back to him. While he isn’t particularly pleased by you reacting like that, he understands that it’s better than he could hope for, taking the context into account.

Both of you are all sweaty afterwards, but he prefers not to take you to the bath immediately. He likes to bask in the afterglow, enjoying your (reluctant) presence while he slowly lets his breathing become even and his heartbeat settle. Cuddling during these times is a must-do for him, and it doesn’t matter what kind of a state you’re in, he does it regardless. You do have input when it comes to choosing the position, though: If you’re in a more of a grumpy mood afterwards, he just lets you rest your head on his bicep, sort of half-hugging you on one side. Then again, if you’re a crying mess, he takes you into full embrace, tucking your head under his chin and pressing your naked chest against his own. It’s like hiding you from the world, albeit it feels terribly suffocating at the same time.

He enjoys pillow talk immensely, but more often than not, you’re not up for it, so it usually ends up staying in his head. Though, if you are receptive, he could chat to you in a hushed tone for hours on end. It’s about nothing in particular: Work, life, you, him, whatever. He also spills you a considerable amount of praise.

Falling asleep after the act would be a preferable outcome for him — you know the General well enough by now that he likes his rest a bit more than he would like to admit, but if you’re not drowsy, he won’t nap either. Since sex with him usually takes place in the late hours of the evening, you’re often quite sleepy in the aftermath, but if that’s not the case, he thinks of something to keep you occupied. For example, he might give you a back rub; the usual. Whatever spot is hurting, he makes sure to give extra attention to it. If you’re complaining about aches, he may get up in favour of getting you a painkiller and some water. This is also the only way to get him to leave the room if you want some time for yourself.

He tends to be in an excellent mood after sex, so if there’s something you’ve been meaning to ask for, this is the best time for it. Obviously, if it’s something completely outrageous, he’s going to gently shake his head and refuse while stroking his knuckles against your cheekbone, but if it’s nothing that crazy, he may very well give in to it. The things that you can get this way are stuff like certain snacks, more time outside, less time with him, and so on. In addition, he’ll be utterly elated if your request involves him in a positive way, and so, you have a chance to pull a kind of a double-exploit tactic here. The man isn’t easy to manipulate, but he does have some of that golden retriever energy in him, and there’s not much he can do about himself in that regard. Be careful, though, because if you’re too nice, you might accidentally set yourself up for round two.

˗ˏˋ ★ 15. Further notes: Is there anything that sets them apart from the other yanderes sex-wise? Are there any unique aspects to them?

Surprisingly enough, with Jing Yuan as your captor, you get to speak your mind when it comes to sex. While there are some basics that he won’t let go of, like tying you and him being in control, you’re allowed to express your opinion on things like positions and what type of foreplay you want. He listens to your requests and takes them into account to a surprising degree. The reasoning behind it is that you being vocal about your preferences implies that you get at least some enjoyment out of the sex, which is a part of his goal, so he’s not opposed to your thoughts.

He sometimes asks you about them directly, too. ”Would you like to be eaten out today? Or does fingering sound like a more preferable plan?” he might inquire. Don’t be fooled, though: It’s either-or, and refusing the entire thing is never an option, but you still get to choose between the two. It’s better than nothing. When it comes to positions, he’s open to pretty much anything — even you riding him if you asked really nicely. He’s going to be in full control the entire time, however: It’s more him lifting you up and down on his dick than you actually doing any of the work. Most likely, the request to ride him would be to make the stretch less painful, but you come to find that you being on top brought very little help to that problem.

Moreover, if you’d like, you could also get him to explore new horizons when it comes to his sexual preferences. He doesn’t really favour things like toys when it comes to the bedroom, but if you were to suggest them? That’s an entirely different story. He raises his brows, pondering the idea for a bit before shrugging and wondering why not. Sure, he can get a vibrator or a few for the two of you to use. Hm, ”for you to use on your own”? Ha-ha, nice try.

On a completely different note, Jing Yuan likes to make you feel things, for the lack of a better word. Not just any things, though — specifically, he likes it when you squirm and shiver. He has noticed that a very effective way to get you to tingle is whispering right against your ear or even licking the inside. He does it in the most unexpected moments, too: You may be sitting on your bed, reading a book or something, and he gets in behind you before blowing a puff of air directly in your ear canal. Obviously, you slap your palm over the side of your face and snap at him, asking him ”what the hell does he think he’s doing”, but he just gives a soft chuckle as a response. He has a bit of a mischievous streak to him in that way.

By that point, you know it’s going to be go-time soon enough; this is just some foreplay for the actual foreplay. If he’s feeling even friskier, he might start nibbling on your earlobe and uttering uncensored filth against your temple. Not only does it make you embarrassed, but you’ll know exactly what he’s going to do to you that night.

A/N

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