#stop whining about what other people are doing and make your own content. or use the block button

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Locked Out of Heaven 13

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, age gap, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your father invites a work friend to the neighbourhood barbecue.

Characters: Nick Fowler (Dad’s friend trope)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

Nick bends over, smothering your lips as he snarks. You still have your hand on him, moving it just like he said. He puts his hand over yours and stops you. 

He parts and hovers over you, “slow down, girl.” 

You exhale and stare up at him. His eyes crawl down and his hand follows. He traces along your throat and down to your chest. He cups the curve of your flesh and bends over you. He kisses each nipple and you twitch. 

He trails down your stomach and across your pelvis, then back up. He frames your chin and kisses you again. He glues his lips to yours and plants a hand next to you. He stretches his legs out and moves to hold himself in a plank above you. 

You reach with your fingers and graze his thighs. Slowly you explore his skin, up to his stomach, and finally his chest. He purrs and nibbles your lip. He lowers his pelvis until his dick rubs against you. He wiggles and you gasp. 

“You wanna put me in?” He rasps. 

Your eyes are foggy and your insides are bubbly. This is it. The moment. The point of no return passed so long ago but it’s all too real right then. Him gazing down at you; you beneath him, his skin against yours. 

“Sure... uh.” 

“Just do what you feel, princess,” he coaxes. “I’m all yours. Do what you want with me.” 

You drag your hand back down, feeling his muscle, and his tip twitches against the back of your hand. You shakily touch him and dip below his length. You slip down and grip him. He rests his knees between yours and lowers himself gently. 

You guide him along your folds. You flinch as he glides along the slickness. You hold your breath and push him further back. You line him up with your entrance and your eyes widen. 

“Baby, you gotta breathe, okay? Or you’ll be all tense,” he cooes and lowers himself onto an elbow. He pets your forehead, tracing your sweaty hairline. “You ready.” 

You blow your breath from your nose and tilt your hips. You nod and bite your tongue. He rests his forehead against yours, your noses flush. He pushes past your fingers. 

He stretches you with his tip. You press your palm to his chest and he pecks your lips again. He hums as you clench. You whimper. 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” he coaxes. “Alright, just a little at a time.” 

He pulls out of you. You groan. He prods you again, poking inside just as far as before. You whine again. He does it several times, each thrust easier than the last. 

“You can make noise, baby. No one’s gonna hear us,” he drawls. “Why don’t you touch yourself, huh? It will feel better.” 

You moan. You obey and roll two fingers between your folds. You swirl around your clit, the sparks it strikes sending a swell through you. This time, he pushes in a little deeper. 

He rocks his hips steadily. His lips covers yours and he delves his tongue into your mouth. His kiss stifles your rising voice. It hurts as he dives in just a bit more. 

You tremble as he eases in more and more. Each thrust he pulls back until he’s not even touching you, only to plunge back in. You can’t tell how much, it’s all a lot. It’s too much. 

You almost bite him before you rip your mouth away from his. You turn your head and whine through your teeth. Your fingers slide down your clit, your juices coating them. Your fingertips brush against him. 

“Princess, you want this, don’t you? You said you wanted this?” He smears his lips over your cheek. “You put me in. You want it.” 

“Y-y-yea,” you stutter. “Yeah, I... oh, god.” 

Your eyes roll back and your head lolls. He groans and you feel something change. He slides deep into you, as far as he can go, and he drones as he collapses onto you. He breathes heavily as he crushes you under his dead weight. 

“Baby, do you feel that? That’s all of me.” His lips tickle your temple. 

Your eyes bead with tears. You can feel it. All of it. You’re full in a way that makes you throb. 

“Nick,” you croak. “I...” 

He pulls back and you choke. He dips in again and you squeal. You push against your clit as your toes curl. You bend your legs higher, cradling him between them, and bite your tongue. 

“I told you, play with yourself, princess. It’ll be easier,” he pumps again. “Do it.” 

You hum and drag your fingers between your folds. You flick them around and your thighs quiver against him. He pushes into you until he can go no deeper. 

You hiss behind your teeth and arch your back. He raises himself and sits on his knees. He drapes your legs over his, scooping his hands under your ass. He looks down as he rocks, watching himself delve into you. 

You look down too. You lift your head until you can see him in you. Your fingers work faster and he matches your rhythm. You hang your head back and moan. 

The pain slowly recedes. Your fears with it. You squirm and spasm. Nick pushes your hand away and puts his thumb to your clit. He rolls it around and around, his pace quickening. 

You cry out as you cum again. You pulse around him, soaking him in delight. He slows. You drift into the afterglow but he’s not done. 

You shake and writhe as he keeps his tempo even. He runs his hand up your stomach and back down. He spreads your folds as once more he watches himself impale you, thrusting into you, over and over. 

He rubs your clit again. You babble as he plucks at your oversensitive nerves. It isn’t long before another orgasm rains down on you. 

He bends and slips his arms under you. He sits back, lifting you with him and kisses your lips. His breath encircles you as he lays a trail along your cheek and jaw. You sink onto him until you feel him in your stomach. 

“Your turn. Keep going,” he growls. “Fuck me.” 

Your insides churn with his command. You are enthralled by it. You sling your arm behind his neck and spread your other hand over the left side of his chest. 

You tilt your hips. You feel him so intensely. You buck again and whine. Again. Again. You can’t stop as friction warms between you, nestling in your clit. 

You roll your hips. You moan and run your hand up to his hair. You cling to his thick locks and kiss him. You want to eat him up. Devour him. 

He cups your ass as he helps you. Guiding you from below. Faster and faster. 

You twitch and cum again. You whine out shakily and hug him, paralysed by another sweltering ripple. You hang your head over his shoulder and whimper. 

He shifts back onto his rear. He unwraps your arm from around him, playing with your hand as he sprawls out beneath you. You can barely keep yourself up as sweat trickles down your spine. 

He frames your hips and guides them. He lifts you up his length and shoves you back down. Up. Down. Up. Down. He grits his teeth and growls, the noise rising from deep in his chest. You put your palms to his stomach and leverage yourself over him. 

“That’s it, baby girl. That’s it. I... I can’t hold out. It hurts.” He grits. “Please, can I cum, baby? Tell me I can cum.” 

“Y-y-you... can... cum.” You sputter. 

“I can?” He groans. “Princess, really?” 

“Please... please, you can cum. Please cum,” you beg, lashes fluttering, insides swimming. “Pl-e-easeeee.” 

He grunts and fucks up into you. He holds your hips in place as he hammers from below. You push your head back and your arms hang limp at your sides as he loses control. He bounces you wildly, roaring as you feel him gush inside you. 

He stills you. You sit on him, shivering in the sunlight. His hands fall down to your thighs, laying on them weakly. His eyes crinkle as he squeezes them shut and his neck strains. He puffs out and shudders. 

You put your hands over his and try to lift yourself. He groans and shakes his head. “Stay, stay,” he hisses. “Not yet.” 

You stay as you are. You rub his knuckles and watch his chest rise and fall. You’re drained of everything, ready to melt beneath the sun. 

He slips his hands from under yours and trails up your arms. He pulls you down, folding you over him. He hooks his arms around you and traps you against him. He kisses your hair and purrs. 

“Wanna stay like this forever?” He whispers. 

💜

Nick hands you another can of the sparkling citrus drink. You’re not sure if it’s the first one, the sun, or the physical exertion but you’re dizzy and a bit spaced out. You thank him as you sit on the cushioned bench in the shade of the cabin. You push the tab in and sip, cheeks pinching at the tartness. 

“Ahh,” Nick sighs. “How are you doing?” 

He’s forgone his shorts, instead, a towel slung haphazardly around his waist. You’re in only the coverup, the sheer fabric doing little to hide your nudity. You’re not thinking enough to care. 

“Good,” you smile behind the can. It wasn’t just once. He kept going even when you thought it was over. At least two more times, depending how you count it. 

The air cools as it sweeps through the open back of the boat. Nick rolls his shoulders and stretches his neck. He slurps from his own can; pre-mixed whiskey soda. 

“It’s getting late. Don’t wanna be out on the water when it gets dark,” he muses. 

“Oh, we should head back,” you look out onto the waters. You can’t tell if you’re swaying or the boat. 

“Definitely close to docking time,” he agrees. “Baby,” he sits beside you. “You have a good day? You have fun?” 

You giggle and look at your lap. You rub your cheek as it singes. You shrug. “Sure I did.” 

He runs his knuckles up the front of the coverup and pinches your nipple through it. You squeak and look at him. 

“You’re still shy, huh? Even after you took me so good,” he smirks. 

Your brows pop up and you laugh again. You wiggle and glance down at the can. The condensation stains your fingers. 

“I... I guess.” 

“You did, you know?” He rubs your knee as he leans in. “You did so good, princess. And the noises—you sound as delicious as you feel, you know that?” He coughs and shifts. “I’m getting worked up again.” 

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry?” You bat your lashes at him. 

“Sorry? Baby, you’re amazing.” He kisses your temple. “But you can help... if you want.” 

“Um, help?” 

“Sure, I’ll drive us in and you can... take care of me. How about that?” 

“Take care?” 

“With your hand. Like before.” 

“Oh, sure, I’ll try,” your voice squeaks. 

“Baby, you’re too perfect,” he grabs your chin and turns your head. He kisses your lips, reluctantly drawing away. “Come on.” 

He stands, the towel tenting, and he heads for the front of the boat. You hesitate and get up to follow. He sits in the driver’s chair and you lower yourself next to him. You put the can in the cup holder beside his. 

He starts the engine and grips the wheel with one hand. With the other, he opens his towel. His dick springs up against his stomach. You stare and he stretches his arm across to rest his hand on your seat. 

“Here we go, princess.” He pets your shoulder with his thumb. 

He goes forward and you peek ahead. You reach over to him and touch his hard length. He twitches. You grab him and squeeze. It takes a moment for you to start. You stroke him from tip to base and back again. He groans and his knuckles pale. 

“That’s it,” he urges you on. 

He tickles the back of your neck as you keep going. You watch your hand, stunned at the sight, at the reality of what you’re doing. Even after everything else, it still feels so unreal. 

“Almost there,” he growls. 

You look up. It doesn’t seem like he’s been driving that long. You squint and peer around. This isn’t where you set off. There’s a dock but it’s much shorter. Behind it, just across a flat of land and behind a sparse row of trees, is a beach house. 

You glance at him in confusion. 

“Dad’s outta town for the week, isn’t he?” He clamps his hand around the back of your neck. “Too late to take you all the way back there.” 

You’re silent. You can’t argue. He’s right, you’re far from home, yet this doesn’t feel right. He never mentioned this. Never said you’d be staying out. Over night. 

“You finish me off and we’ll go get settled in,” he says. “I think you’re really gonna like the place.” 

[the-way-astray]

you guys know that instead of complaining that there's too much hate for a character in the main tag, you can just. make positive content and posts about that character yourself and block the negative tags right. you know this is a thing you can do. right

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

I've been thinking about cnc with brat Wooyoung..... thoughts?

➯a/n: i just fainted, hit my head, fell down eight flights of stairs, died, and CAME BACK TO LIFE TO WRITE THIS OMGBEJFOWW i rarely write dom reader cause im rarely feeling dominant myself but GAWWAD THIS WOKE UP SOMETHING INSIDE OF MEE

Ruin Me

❥Jung Wooyoung x fem reader

✈︎queued for: wed 4th

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut

➯cnc disclaimer: CONSENT IS SEXY. all parties are and always will be consenting in my stories. cnc is a way to explore power dynamics and it's attractive to many people, it does not "promote s/a", the first c is CONSENSUAL. you should only ever do it with someone who you trust. be safe and stay freaky !!

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: established relationship, brat wooyoung / mean reader / switch dynamics, the cnc goes both ways and you will see what i mean, unprotected ( booo 🍅 ), use of a cock ring, crying from being edged + hair pulling + slapping + hard degrading + spitting (all wy receiving), biting + choking (reader receiving), sloppy kissing, matching each others freak on a celestial level, fuck-fighting / rough housing, pinning each other down, saying i love you during dirty nasty sex, name calling including: calling woo a brat, toy / dildo, bastard, slut, fuck meat / reader gets called tease, fucker, fuck hole. pet names including: baby ( going both ways ) / baby boy, angel / pretty girl

♡masterlist + tag form !♡

₊‧⁺stardust˖⋆ @everyonewooeverywhere @willowwyy @sousydive @sunnysidesins @onyxmango @devilzliaison @ateezswonderland @queenofdumbfuckery @emilysecresy

18+.MINORS GET OUT.

ꕤ

When your boyfriend says, "ruin me," he means it.

He means spit in his face, smother him in your cunt, make him choke on a strap-on, wrestle with him until his roommates have to put on the noise canceling headphones they keep within an arms reach, treat him like the brat he is — ruin him.

"Stop squirming." Slap.

"Fuck!" His hips buck into you from below, his cock twitching inside of you from the sting. "Get off of me and I w- I wouldn't have to!"

You shove his shoulders right back into the mattress when he tries to sit up, pinning him as best you can with your feet over his thighs while you start rolling your hips again. "Just be a good toy and let me use your cock~"

"Shit-" He gasps, head tilting back into your grip on the ends of his hair, "oh~ You little fucker!" He squeezes his eyes shut, tears welling up from the burning ball of pleasure inside of him that has nowhere to go. Not with the cock ring you slipped on him while he was 'asleep' on, anyways. It just stays there. Right in his pelvis and spreading to his stomach as it burns him up from the inside out; making him sweat.

"Shut up," you slap your palm over his mouth, "stupid brat." Your eyebrows push together, breaths heavy against your own fingers as you press your forehead to his. "You can't help that damn mouth of yours, can you, baby? Never shut the fuck up..."

Your voice trails off in a moan as you continue your harsh grinding; driving his cock right into your g-spot. "Good for nothing piece of fuck meat." His eyes roll back into his head, loud moan muffled by your hand as he scrambles for something to hold onto.

His fingers twist up in the fabric of your large sleep shirt. You had stripped him completely, leaving him bare and vulnerable while you still had almost all your clothes on. You only lost your pajama bottoms, your panties pulled to the side.

"Open your mouth," you groan as you still on top of him, prying it open for yourself and shoving two of your fingers in.

"Bratty bastard," you smirk as he instinctively licks your digits while you stroke his tongue, "trying to act like you don't want to be my free use slut~ I feel your cock leaking inside me, you needy toy-" He blinks dazedly as you lean over his face, a loud whine stuck in his throat as you spit right into his mouth. "I bet you want to cum sooo bad, baby boy... Just admit you like it when I use you against your will~"

Even though it's not against his will; and it never would be —

He mumbles a disagreeing 'nuh-uh' under your fingers, making you chuckle. You pull out your fingers and wipe them across his face, "fine. Be like that. You don't get to cum. You really are nothing but my fuck meat today."

A shaking gasp trembles off his swollen lips, hands holding onto your waist tightly as you begin bouncing. "Fu- good god! Baby- Oh, baby, please! S-stop!" You had been doing nothing by grinding, swirling your hips — he doesn't know if he can take this without going crazy. He can feel his pleasure teasing his every nerve; like a cup about to overflow if one more drop is added.

You grab his wrists, canceling out any weak attempt he makes to throw you off. "Mh~" Your moan as you ride his painfully hard member so selfishly makes him cry. You sound so pretty, it makes him want to cum even more. Maybe if he starts begging now you'll let him- "Oh, yeah~ Fuck- stay still, you brat. I'm gonna cum..."

His brain is tingling. Wanting to beg, 'do it, pretty girl, do it! Make yourself cum with my cock!'

"You f-fucker," he groans, fighting back against you weakly as you grab his wrists and pin them to the bed, "don't- don't!"

"Why not, huh? Think if I cream all over you, you'll cum?" You slap his flushed cheek again, panting as you slam yourself down on his length. "Think you'll cum from being held down by your girlfriend and bounced on like a useless dildo?"

You know he would — he would have long ago — if not for the cock ring holding him back.

"I know- know you would," you grab both of his cheeks roughly, cupping his face, "you're such a slut, angel~"

He groans into your mouth brokenly, barely able to breathe as you clench and flutter around him; riding him all the way through your leg-trembling orgasm.

He almost cries with relief when you finally still on top of him, shoving your tongue into his mouth and letting him suck at it as you both moan and breathe heavily.

When you trade, his tongue in your mouth, his soft noise of pleasure is almost a purr.

You rub your thumbs across his stinging cheeks softly, giving your hips one more slow swirl before you lift them off of him. A silent 'keep going'.

When you pull back, the thick string of spit between you snaps and lands on his chin.

"Thanks, baby," you hum as you lick it up before shoving his face and rolling off of him, "you're a satisfying toy for being such a brat."

He pants for a moment, catching his breath as his cock twitches — searching for your snug warmth. "Fuck meat, huh?" He huffs with a smirk growing on his lips.

"That's what you are, baby boy~"

He bites his lip as he rolls the cock ring off of him — he almost cums then and there in his hand.

But why do that when he's got you laying right next to him?

You yelp as he pins you onto your stomach, immediately buried balls deep again with a guttural moan. "Fuuuuck, baby~"

"Get off me, you bastard-"

"If I'm your fuck meat," he shoves your face into the sheets with his hand on the back of your head, leaning to your ear, "then you're my warm little fuck hole."

His immediate, frenzied thrusts knock the wind from your lungs. Even though you had used a silent signal that you were still ready to go — you were sensitive. "You're such a tease," he groans into your ear, biting at the lobe, "thi- think I'm gonna let you get away with using my cock like a dildo and not let me cum? Guess what, love?"

His chest is heaving against your back, balls slapping against your clit as he slams into you as deep as he can; begging for release. He spreads your legs with his, driving deeper.

"It's my turn to use you."

"Ah! You a-asshole, that's too deep!" He's, in reality, been much deeper before.

"What~?" He's chuckles breathlessly, his sweat dripping from his chin onto your clothed shoulder. "What's that, pretty girl? Fuck you deeper? Hm, if you i-insist~"

You shout into the mattress as he snakes an arm under you and presses against your lower stomach. "Oh, shit! Wooyoung!" You thrash under him as he pushes you closer to another orgasm with his palm pressing against his cock through your pelvis.

The sound of his name coming muffled as he keeps your head shoved in the blankets makes him pull away quickly — because his own orgasm almost slapped him in the face.

"Turn over," he growls, his body itching for release so badly that he's crying again; blinking his tears away quickly as he flips you over, "you little fucker, you're a goddamn tease, my pretty girl."

He slaps your hands away as you go to stop him from laying on top of you; your fingers ending up laced together as he slides back into you and starts pounding. "Perfect fuck hole for me- fuck, fuck, yes! Oh, m'gonna cum~ Ah, I love you, baby... Damn- fucking take it."

Your attempts at stopping his hips with your feet only end with him folding your legs over you, making you wail as he slams deeper; your feet dangling over his shoulders. "Please, angel! I can't take it! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" You know he's not going to stop unless you say your safe word, and you don't want him to.

"Shut the hell up, pretty girl," he licks up your heated cheek, letting go of your legs to wrap his hands around your neck, "you're gonna take my cum. You got yourself in this mess."

"Wo- ngh~" You gurgle on a moan as he squeezes your throat with both of his hands, letting your eyes flutter shut as he chokes you right into an Earth-shattering orgasm. Your breath trembles under his throat, your legs falling off his shoulders and spreading wide for him to continue his ruthless, hurried thrusts.

The second he lets go of your neck and sinks his teeth into you, you know he's about to cum. And he does. Hard.

Moaning like a porn star rather than an idol, hips stuttering, teeth in your flesh, sweat down his back, cheeks red with your hand print. Lewd, squelching noises fill the air as he fucks you through his prolonged release; his cum all but splashing between you as he slams his hips to yours. The final slap of his skin against yours echoes as he stills deep inside of you and collapses on top of you.

Wordlessly, he starts licking at the indentations on your neck as you wrap your arms around his shoulders; both of you trembling messes in each other's embrace.

When your boyfriend says, "ruin me," he means it.

Ride him until he cries, make him your personal toy, slap him until his make-up artist is concerned for his wellbeing, pull his hair, call him names — ruin him.

Because he will always return the favor.

ꕤ

[moon1833]

Knots- Shouta Aizawa

⋆｡°��� ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆

“Shouta’s eyes are usually rimmed with tiredness, reddened by excessive stress and lack of sleep. Now, they’re pleading with you, glossy and alert of every movement you make.”

Inc: Smut, bondage, inappropriate use of a capture weapon, sub-ish Aizawa, dom reader, begging, cowgirl

⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆

Shouta had used his binding scarf on many people before. He’s used them on villains or criminals mostly, occasionally his unruly students. He’d even used them on you before, and as purely erotic as it was, nothing could’ve prepared him for this.

He’d never had them used on him before.

You hum contently above him, the curve of your breast slipping into his sight as his old t-shirt drops deeper down your shoulder when you peer down at him. His forearms flex behind his back and he swears he’s never been this hard in his life.

His back arches slightly off the headboard when you finally settle yourself in between his legs, your lower thigh just grazing his boner. His elbow presses into a tight knot, keeping him still as you climb over him.

Shouta’s eyes are usually rimmed with tiredness, reddened by excessive stress and lack of sleep. Now, they’re pleading with you, glossy and alert of every movement you make.

“You okay?” You stroke his chin, letting his stubble drag under your thumb.

Shouta knows that you know this is the closest he’s been to heaven by the cocky smirk on your face, but he finds himself humoring you, anyway.

“Mhm, yes.” He whispers, subconsciously fluttering his eyes closed. You coo, readjusting your legs so you’re sitting on his lap.

“How long have you been wanting to try this?” He grunts, attempting to regain some of his composure.

“Since our spar.” You reply instantly, bringing your lips to his neck. “You remember, the one where I managed to use your own capture weapon against you.”

“That was a dirty move.” He can hardly get the words out, his hips stutter as you shift over him. You can’t tell if he’s talking about last week’s training session or how you sunk your teeth into a particular spot on his neck.

“Yeah?” You pull back, tilting your head. “You seemed to have liked it then, too.”

Uncharacteristically, Shouta flushes at the memory, recalling how quickly his dick hardened at being restricted by you, and how quickly he came when he ran off to go shower afterwards.

“So what?” He grumbles. You run your fingers through the hair around his nape. His breath hitches.

“Don’t be a brat.” Your lips brush his jaw. “It’s more enjoyable when you let go of that attitude.”

You tug on the knot behind him while your other hand fists his hair, and against his better judgement a whine sneaks through his clenched teeth. His dick practically jumps, and he can feel the precum leaking from his tip and making the fabric of his boxers stick to it.

You kiss him, grinding your hips down onto him as he groans into your mouth. Reflexively, he tries to pull you closer, but his hands are stopped by the restraining ties of his own weapon. He groans a little, and you rut against him forcefully, pushing more noises out of him.

Shouta is worried he might finish in his pants, and his concern is echoed on his face. His lips quiver with small moans of “Ah, fuck” and gasps of pleasure as you mark down his chest. You lick around his skin, letting it roll over your tongue and nourishing the taste.

You know he’s close. You’ve memorized his tell signs. From his screwed shut eyes and twitching nose, Shouta is about to finish. You peal off of him, amused at how he throws back his head in protest and his eyes shooting open.

You shove your panties off, making a bit of a show as you maintain eye contact with him, watching his chest heave.

Shouta lifts his hips slightly, encouraging you to help him push his boxers off, and you do, throwing them off to some corner of the room.

You place your knees on either side of him, hovering over him and sighing when his tip smacks against your clit unintentionally.

You don’t move, though, keeping your position and peering down on him.

“What?” He breathes.

“Come on.” You cross your arms, and his eyes watch your tits press against the thin material of your shirt. “Beg for it.”

His throat closes, his mouth parted in shock. When all he does is gape at you, you refuse to move.

“Shouta.” You warn. “I will finger fuck myself right here and leave you untouched.”

“Okay, fine.” He says quickly. “Shit, please.”

You give him a pointed look. “Keep going.”

“Fucking hell.” He seethes. “Please, just ride me already. I can’t take much more of this.”

You giggle, sliding down his dick until just the tip was in. An involuntary moan shivers out of you at the stretch, and Shouta’s face twitches in confidence.

In retort, you slam your hips down, forcing him all the way into you. He yelps in shock, and you dont give him much time before lifting up at repeating the action.

Your hole is burning, but it melts into pleasure the more your slick and his precum lubricates his dick. You continue to bounce up and down, little huffs of pleasure leaving you in between each stroke.

You lift your shirt over your head, fully displaying your chest as your body jiggles at the force of your thrusts. The smack of your bodies colliding is loud, but Shouta’s whimpers and string of curses are louder, and you use his shoulders to balance yourself.

Continuing your movements, you feel around the comforter for your underwear, grasping them in your palm. You tug on Shouta’s hair, and a sharp grunt leaves his mouth. You take the opportunity to shove your panties inside, watching his expression turn to a half-assed glare before switching into a burningly erotic submission.

“Aw, you gonna cum?” You jeer, even though you were fighting back your own orgasm.

Lost in a haze, Shouta nods vigorously. You keep your motions steady, fucking him through his climax as his hips jump to meet your pace. The harshness of it, along with the pretty sounds he was making forces your own orgasm, and your legs jerk as his cum leaks out of you.

You wrap your arms around his neck as you regain your breathing, combing out the small knots you formed by pulling his hair. You kiss his cheek as you reach behind him, pulling off of his dick completely to focus on untying the knot.

“Was that okay?” You ask, using your fingernails to loosen the garment.

All Shouta can mutter out is a small “Mhm”, instantly wrapping his arms around you when you finally pull the fabric through the headboard.

“So good.” He adds, his words soft as he lays down across the bed. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too.” You giggle, cuddle closer to him. He’s asleep before you can pull the covers over each other.

⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆˙ ⋆｡°✩ ✮⋆

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Yokai Harem x Reader (III)

On your travels with the two demon companions, you stumble upon a fortified village plagued by monster attacks. It would be quite unlucky if the grand finale happened just as you step foot inside, right? Worry not, you're saved by a third mysterious yokai that you immediately recognize. The harem grows!

Content: female reader, monsters, violence

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Character Guide]

“Alright, how’s this?”

You do a clumsy pirouette before the two yokai men.

“That’s...are you sure?” Kiritsubo eyes you, mildly confused. “It’s usually what men wear.”

Of course, you already know. After weeks of walking through feudal Japan, you’ve reached the conclusion that modern clothing isn’t the most practical choice. Not to mention the strange looks you always get from other people upon your arrival in any village. You needed something to blend in, and the typical fashion for your gender might not be compatible with your training. You’d rather not swing a sword while covered in multiple layers of kimono.

Thus, you opted for the hakama pants typically worn by men. With your hair tied up and in this baggy attire, one could think you’re a young samurai. If they squint enough. You chuckle at the thought.

“She’ll wear whatever allows her to not be a burden.” Murasaki concludes with crossed arms.

One way to put it, you tell yourself.

“If you’re done discussing fashion, we can leave.” The dark-haired man continues with indifference, standing up and adjusting the swords in the folds of his sash.

Both you and Kiritsubo hurry and follow behind obediently.

“Where are we going this time?” You ask sheepishly.

“South-west. An old residence of his, although we will have to pass through a fortified settlement first. We should reach it before sunset.”

It’s hard to imagine you’re the supposed savior in this equation. Murasaki has been leading you by the hand each step, carefully considering every detail on the map, and extensively planning your travels every evening. All this on top of your daily training. You’ve now mastered the basics with the katana he’s provided you, as well as some common prayers for exorcising small-class demons.

You glance at the daisho pair of swords under his belt. A long, thin blade, and a shorter backup version, both in elaborate matching scabbards meant to showcase the status and wealth of the samurai wearing them. In this case, meant to express his rank as the advisor and right hand of the famed onmyōji. You certainly don’t doubt Nakamaro’s decision to rely on Murasaki.

In comparison, Kiritsubo carries a nagamaki at his waist. A comically long blade in your opinion, used mostly to bring down horses during battle. Any regular sword would’ve been too small for him. Despite his imposing appearance, you’ve learned rather quickly just how different Kiritsubo is from the other yokai. He’s quite clumsy in combat, often anxious about making mistakes, terribly apologetic, and overall has a heart too kind for his own good. If there’s hesitation coming from his side, Murasaki immediately follows with his ruthless, ending blows. As a matter of fact, even you’ve had to do the occasional killing to spare the man of such choices.

The silver-haired demon notices your eyes on him and smiles, excited. He reminds you of a large dog. A horned, fanged dog of monstrous strength, nonetheless the innocence is there. And he does make a great travel companion.

“How much longer?” You grunt, looking up.

“Are you tired? I can carry you for the rest of the way-” Kiritsubo instantly offers but is interrupted by Murasaki’s barked orders.

“She can walk. Don’t spoil her.” He glares at you, then nods ahead. “We’re almost there, so quit your whining.”

True to his word, you can finally discern the outline of a wall at the top of the hill. A few more steps, and you can even spot two guards standing beside the great gate.

“Stop there!”

The soldiers lift their spears threateningly. Before you can react, Murasaki steps in front of you with a hand placed on his sword.

“We’re just passing through.” He states factually.

“We’re no longer allowing visitors.” One of the guards exclaims. “The village has been raided by monsters recently and our Lord has closed all gates until the matter is solved.”

“That means no filthy demons go in.” The other adds in a mocking tone, his gaze lingering on the horns of your companions. His mouth curls in disgust.

You can tell Murasaki is angered by the disrespectful approach. He is not one to let such insults slide and you’d rather avoid him claiming unnecessary victims; therefore, you push past his arm and plant yourself ahead with a polite greeting bow.

“These yokai are with me. I vouch for their good behavior, so please consider letting us through. Perhaps we can even help you with these monsters.”

“You? How would you…”

The man stops abruptly, switching between you and the yokai. Eventually he inspects your scabbard, and he gasps, confusion twisting his features.

“Could it be? No…He’d be dead by now.”

“What are you talking about?” His partner inquires impatiently.

“That’s the family seal belonging to Abe no Nakamaro.” He explains, pointing to the golden finish at the end of your katana handle. “I’ve heard about him from my grandparents. But it’s been decades!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re saying this kid is a legendary onmyōji?”

“Who else would show up with demons as servants? Everything matches. Perhaps his powers have finally reached immortality”, he concludes solemnly.

The men continue their argument, and you clear your throat, embarrassed. What the hell? You can’t possibly look that manly. Sure, you’ve been skipping the makeup, and the clothes aren’t exactly curve shaping, but to be mistaken for an old man is like a slap to the face.

You’re about to deny their claims, but Murasaki swiftly pinches the back of your neck, and you wince. He lowers himself to your ear and whispers:

“This will be to our advantage. Just go along with it.” “Fine!” You mumble angrily. Then you turn back to the guards.

“V-very well, I see I haven’t been forgotten.” You admit, theatrically. “Lead me to your Lord and we shall discuss the details of your monster attack.”

Thus, you sip on your tea, kneeling at the luxurious table and awaiting the arrival of the feudal Lord. The servants are exchanging words, gossiping fervently next to the wall. “I wonder if he can cure my daughter!” one woman mumbles, visibly emotional.

“Do you think we can finally be saved? He’ll truly exorcise the beasts tormenting our village?” another whispers.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and glare at Murasaki. You had no idea he’d given you Nakamaro’s old sword. Now you’re stuck pretending to be a pompous, long-dead asshat.

“What if they catch us?” You hiss between your teeth. “I don’t know shit about onmyōdō.”

“Then I’ll just kill them all. Simple as that.” The crimson-eyed man retorts, unconcerned. “Have a little fun, won’t you?”

“W-we’ll help you come up with answers, (Y/N). Don’t worry.” Kiritsubo chimes in, trying to reassure you.

You sigh in frustration and look out the window. The sun must’ve set a long time ago and has since been replaced by a pitch-black sky. What’s keeping the Lord? Surely, he can’t be having important business meetings late at night.

Almost as if your thoughts were read, the door slides open and a servant wobbles in. The rest of the household workers are silent, expecting the entrance of their master, but no one is following behind. You observe the bizarre limp of the woman. Suddenly, she collapses to the floor, revealing her bloodied back torn by deep wounds, caused by some sort of claw. Her body is stiff.

Panic settles in right away, and the servants topple over each other to get away from the fresh cadaver. You struggle to get up among the terrified crowd, but thankfully Murasaki grabs your wrist and pulls you out into a quieter hallway.

“What the hell?” is all you manage to say.

“Rotten.” Kiritsubo furrows his brows, sniffing the air. “Someone in here must be possessed. Could be more of them.”

Murasaki surveys the surroundings and gestures towards his partner.

“We have to see if the Lord is still alive. You go that way. I’ll take the front. Kill everyone suspicious.”

“What about me?” You demand, holding your breath.

“Get out and wait for us. You know how to draw a protection circle, don’t you? I won’t take long.” The dark-haired yokai answers before vanishing.

Judging by the screams and wails coming from all directions, you suspect Kiritsubo is right about multiple attackers. You sprint across the hall, looking for an opening. The self-defense lessons didn’t cover cursed humans with demonic powers. You’ll stay out of this one.

What an absolute mess. You have encountered some demons in your weeks spent here, but nothing to this degree. When the guards mentioned a monster attack, you imagined a ghost with a grudge, or some small fry yokai scaring the workers at night, not a mass curse that ends in a massacre. Of course, it had to happen the moment you arrived at the main house.

You find a room with a door leading to the inner courtyard. Seems isolated enough and it should provide a bit of shelter while you wait for the pair to finish the business. As you rush past the dead bodies, you notice a woman hiding behind a screen divider.

“Ah! It’s you!” she yells, aware of your presence.

From the shadow of her secret spot emerges the small frame of a child. The woman pushes the little human towards you, blocking your path.

“Don’t worry, he’ll protect us.” she gives her child another nudge. “Go on, hold onto him. You’ll be safe.”

What? No, no, no, no, no. Not happening. You’re getting out.

“Ma’am, sorry to break it to you under such circumstances, but I’m not-”

You’re interrupted by a loud growl. One of the possessed creatures must’ve followed your scent, and it’s now sliding into the room on all fours with the bones of the limbs twisting and creaking in unnatural pounces. You purse your lips in a frightened grimace. One advantage of the wide hakama pants – useful to know – is that no one can see your knees shaking cowardly.

Theoretically, you could use the brat as bait and run for your life. It’d make a decent obstacle. Unfortunately for your life span, you’ve been gifted with an idiotic sense of duty instead of survival instincts.

“Keep your distance. If I can’t kill it, get out and don’t look back” you advise, positioning yourself in the learned stance and sliding the sword out of its sheath.

Damn it! Then again, it should be like fighting a zombie, right? Given the pathetic way it drags itself around, it can’t be too difficult to hit. Aim for the head, you repeat in your mind. Your fingers grip around the handle.

The ghoulish beast lowers itself, like a spring about to recoil, and leaps across the room with an ease you did not anticipate. Despite your iron hold, it slaps the blade out of your hands with enormous force. The impact breaks your skin, and you wince. There’s no time to weep, within seconds it could go for your vitals next. While Murasaki hasn’t gotten around to teaching you much hand-to-hand combat, you’ve read your fair share of shounen manga. The first idea that comes to mind is to put the beast in a sumo lock. You bend your knees smoothly and wrap your arms around the monster, feeling for something to hold onto. You grit your teeth and attempt to lift the creature.

A thundering laugh resonates within the walls, and you jolt, startled.

“I never thought I’d see the mighty Abe no Nakamaro wrestling with ankle biters like this. What are you going to do, throw it out of the ring?”

The voice is deep, loud, and unfamiliar. You can’t afford to look back to see the source, but it’s not hard to figure out the possibilities. So far, you’ve only been called by that cursed name by the yokai accomplices. Although now is not the best time to seek revenge.

“Shut up, I panicked”, you snap in frustration. “If you can’t help, keep that trap closed!”

The sudden burst of anger seems to have triggered something within your body, a power you don’t recognize. You watch as your arms effortlessly pick up the monster and swing it across the room, its body demolishing the opposing wall and causing thick clouds of dust to rise and spread everywhere.

The impact must’ve alerted the nearby ghouls, as you can now hear the agitated trample and screeching rapidly approaching. You’re not confident you can pull the same lucky move a second time.

You turn to search for your sword, but it’s already being handed to you by the mysterious yokai who’s been observing your little fight. You have to step aside and tilt your head all the way back in order to fully view the gigantic frame of the man.

Ah, you recognize the features immediately. The same kind of fear you felt when you stumbled upon that old shrine statue is now tugging at your chest.

“You’re Suma, right?”

A proud, wide grin forms on his face, revealing a pair of glistening fangs. His expression is unexpectedly soft and friendly.

“We’re halfway through our introductions then, eh?” You pick up the sword and his fingers stretch out for a handshake. “What is your given name? I’m guessing you don’t willingly go by that…title.”

“I very much prefer (Y/N), yes.” You marvel at the significant difference in size, placing your small hand in his. “Was that your power I just used?”

“Mhhm. You sure surprised me there! It’s not something I did intentionally, but I s’ppose we just resonate that well, huh?”

He laughs again, completely unbothered by the impending danger.

“Alright, you can leave the rest to me. Take the lady outside, it will get a little messy.”

And with that, he casually walks towards the gathering of ghouls. You guide the family to the courtyard and wait for the battle to end.

“Do you think she’ll be fine by herself?” Kiritsubo is resting against the fence, keeping you under a watchful gaze.

“Let the humans sort it out among themselves.” Murasaki responds, somewhat bored.

The morning after the attack, you offered to deal with the survivors: ask them how everything started, if they’d noticed anything suspicious days prior to the event, and if the route to Nakamaro’s old residence was still open. The yokai men had found the feudal Lord in the jaws of a possessed creature and he quickly succumbed to his wounds. Consequently, only the remaining servants could provide them with clues.

A village being targeted like this is highly unusual, and Murasaki can’t shake the feeling it could be related to their master.

“Oh, where are you heading after this?” The silver-haired yokai glances at Suma, sitting lazily next to them.

“Where? After you just told me the whole story? I’m way too invested in this modern reincarnation that just popped out of nowhere, so I’m tagging along!” He announces with a chuckle.

Murasaki frowns.

“We don’t need your help.”

“Don’t be like that.” The giant man pouts dramatically. “Are you upset I saved (Y/N) before you?”

“W-we were on our way!” Kiritsubo retorts, visibly bothered.

“It’s a done deal!” Suma rests his hands under his head and yawns. “Besides, the little human already said he doesn’t mind.”

“He? (Y/N) is a woman.”

The redhead abruptly sits up and gasps.  

“Wait, what?”

“Don’t get funny ideas, man”, the silver-haired demon warns.

[ressjeon]

pretty doll ⇢ kim line (m.)

genre/au: smut, slight bdsm? (i have no idea what AU this is but you’ll see)

summary: when Namjoon left, he said to stay put and you obeyed as usual but why did he leave you with his roommates when they were this hot?

wc & rating: 5.6k | 18+

warnings/content: explicit sexual content, dom/sub dynamics, oral (both receiving), fingering, deep throating, face fucking, unprotected sex, double penetration (spitroasting, we're back lmao), exhibitionism (public sex 🗿), praise kink, reverse cowgirl, edging, cum play, degradation, size kink, groping, pet names, etc.

a/n: happy taejincember y'all it's been a long ass time! anyways, this was my dream years ago so it's initially written in 2021 and i'm finally posting it lmao. thank you to the amazing Danica ( @dee-ehn ) for this very very gorgeous banner & divider 💞

It’s hard to explain the relationship between you and Namjoon.

But you never bother explaining when people around you ask because you’re not the type to put labels anyway, and so is he. This simply is an arrangement and you’re not together by any means so you’re both free to do whatever you want, with whoever you want.

There are only two rules that you both have been following for a while now though. One is simple; no kissing on the lips with other people but the other one’s a bit complicated. Enough that it took a while before you got used to this dynamic between you and Namjoon, causing small arguments here and there around the beginning. However, he has always been patient and handled you with care, showing it to you in his own ways that you learned to tune in with it in time.

Like right now.

.

“ahh..Namjoon” you whine for the nth time to no avail. He's been eating you out since the moment you arrived here in the park earlier like a starved man as he always does. Well, according to him, your cunt’s the only one he devours, part of the other rule that you both agreed on. 

When his mouth is not on you, his two fingers are, sometimes three, before he stops. He does this when he senses that you're about to cum, chuckling deeply before releasing the swing that you’re sitting on to tease you further. You’ve been squirming nonstop on it due to the cold breeze that’s been hitting your wet core since the first time he fingered you here. 

You do love it but Namjoon’s mercilessly doing this to you...

In some random playground, in broad daylight, in this chilly weather.

Good thing there’s no one in sight but even then, that would’ve been the last thing on your mind with how Namjoon’s torturing your pussy like he’s punishing you. It also doesn’t help that you’re not wearing any panties as that is what he prefers when you're with him. He reasons that it’ll be easier to finger you or eat you out anywhere he likes. 

He does the same. Going commando each time you go out since you’re always needy when he’s near, always wanting to suck him off, always wanting to sit on his cock no matter where the both of you are.

One of his strong arms catches the curve of the swing seat you’re sitting on, stopping it from hitting him when it sways forward. Then he brings back his fingers inside your swollen pussy again, making you shut your eyes, breath hitching with each intrusion. All you can focus on is his long fingers massaging your abused walls at this point, your knuckles turning white while gripping the swing chain so hard because you’re nearing your peak once again.

Your eyes suddenly open when he reaches that soft spot inside you, moaning louder than you’ve already been as soon as you lock your eyes with him. He’s looking at you intently, as usual, never straying his eyes from observing your face while his fingers continue pumping in and out of your pussy. 

Namjoon’s always been handsome but he’s looking more gorgeous to you from where he’s kneeling, not seeming to mind the small wood chips digging into his denim jeans. The strands of his short honey-blond hair above his undercut being blown by the wind, causing your walls to flutter more around his wet fingers whose pace is now turning slow. You squeak when Namjoon continues to retreat his fingers, spreading your pussy lips apart before pushing in, scissoring your pussy again.

And then he removes them abruptly and doesn’t swing you back this time.

“sorry doll, we have to get going. i have some last-minute holiday shopping to do”

You pout at Namjoon’s words, eyes nearly watering at what he said. His tone’s apologetic as he stands up from the ground, holding his hand out for you to take but you’re still reluctant to leave. He retracts and waits for you instead at the wooden edge of the box, face teasing as he wipes his cum-coated fingers against his denim jeans which further added to your distress.

“i didn’t cum yet” you whine in displeasure, looking up at him with big eyes from your seat, hoping that’ll change his mind about staying a bit and letting you finish but he doesn’t falter. 

So you’re back to pouting, the dazed sensation from his edging beginning to leave your body. 

Realizing that he’d never really budge, you stand up and turn around to check if you didn’t leave any mess on the swing seat. Thankfully there’s none, though the embarrassment stays in you despite frequently fooling around with Namjoon in public places like this. You’re trying to pull down your skirt as you’re nearing him, to make sure the wind doesn’t blow it up and expose your bare pussy to any possible passerby. 

He seems to be enjoying seeing you sulk as the grin on his face widens, "later okay? you can stay at my place for a while". 

Namjoon cages you with his big arms and you lean on his chest, nodding in relief at what he said. He never breaks his promises so you have a hunch that he must be planning something for later then. Excitement courses through you at the thought but his edging made you a bit hungry though, your stomach growling a bit which doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

"let's go Joonie, hope you have my favourites there" you smile sheepishly as you look up at him and he chuckles in return, one hand sliding down to your waist to hold you as you both start walking to his place.

The fancy apartment building looms over you both as you arrive at Namjoon's place. He shares it with his two other close friends, Seokjin and Taehyung. They’re gorgeous like him and each time Namjoon brings you here, you couldn’t help but steal glances and ponder their whereabouts when they’re not around. You’re rarely here that’s why and when you are, they're either both absent or the other one's missing.

You’re wondering if they’re here this time though, you haven't seen those two in a while.

.

Namjoon opens the door with his own key, pulling you inside after setting them on the key rack. It’s something his roommates have implemented given the number of times he lost his keys. Their place is not that big for three people but the interior shows each of their tastes that somehow complemented one another. It's because they’ve known each other for years, gradually learning more about each other that you’re sometimes amazed at how synced they are in what they do. 

You instantly shiver at the change of temperature as soon as you enter their unit, the heater’s finally switched on much to Namjoon’s delight. The heat is warming you up but you’re feeling warmer seeing both his roommates sitting by the round kitchen table.

Namjoon nods to them as a greeting while he walks hurriedly towards his room. This leaves you awkwardly standing by the door, contemplating if you should follow him or join his roommates in the kitchen. You’re still not close with Taehyung and Seokjin despite Namjoon bringing you here for a little while now. You talk to them of course but Namjoon subtly demands your attention all the time. Quite a contrast because he never displays affection towards you when other people are around. It’s just him by nature, seeing as you’re not together anyways so you respected that.

Unable to decide, you drop to your knees to unbuckle your platform heels, facing sideways so they won't get to see your bare pussy. Namjoon’s just by his bedroom and you’re thinking of following him there for a quick fun. You’re still on edge but disappointment arises in you when he comes out with some bags in hand just as you’re out of your wedges. 

Namjoon takes a piece of paper from his pocket with one hand, unfolding it to double-check the list of things that he has to purchase. He’s already set on this, turning to you to give a quick hug before putting back his olive green jacket on.

"behave doll, hmm?" he pats your hair and you smile in return, dismissing the joke that you were about to make about his high-time plan as you bid him goodbye.

Seokjin and Taehyung know of you from the times Namjoon brought you to their place. They’re also aware of your "relationship'' so they aren’t fazed at how you and their roommate treat each other. Namjoon leaving you here alone with them is surprising though, they never thought that he’d let you out of his sight especially when other guys are around.

Before your arrival, they’re at the roundtable, munching the Christmas cookies that Seokjin baked earlier. Both men are facing the door when you and Namjoon enter, allowing Taehyung to steal glances at your bare legs. Seokjin elbows him after noticing and he coughs loudly before adjusting the way he sits and greeting Namjoon back. He shouldn’t look again but your skirt’s riding up and he’s tempted so he took another cookie to stop himself.

You haven’t looked at them but they can tell that you’re conflicted about whether to talk to them or not. However, your expression changes as soon as you spot the fridge, approaching it with eager eyes. Each man was about to talk to you but the greeting on their tongues halted when you suddenly bent your body after opening the fridge, exposing your bare pussy in front of them.

Taehyung grips his glass full of milk as he stares at your glistening cunt, almost choking as he tries to chew the cookies he's eating. He knows that he should look away because you’re technically Namjoon’s girl but he can’t help it. There's no way you’re not aware of what you’re doing to them, meaning, you might know how they see you already. He gulps a large amount of milk to clench his drying throat while he can hear Seokjin coughing excessively beside him.

“Give me some Tae” Seokjin discreetly asks beside him, still coughing a bit from choking on the cookies. Taehyung doesn’t even realize that he’s been holding the box of milk with his other hand this whole time, turning around to pass it to Seokjin and noticing the guilt in his hyung’s eyes when their eyes meet.

Like his younger roommate, Seokjin also can’t stray his eyes from your cunt. He tried looking away from your smooth legs when you came in with Namjoon earlier but he can't possibly do that now that you're purposely doing this in front of them. Not only that it shocked them but it also confused him a bit. Sure, he noticed your subtle glances on them before but that’s the only thing you’ve done so far. Still, he’s not sure what you’re planning but the mere absence of your undies shouldn’t have been a surprise; you’re Namjoon's “doll” after all. 

Taehyung thinks it's an invitation while he knows Seokjin will think it's a test. He’s not sure but you’re pushing their limits right now and the self-control that he’s been holding all this time is so close to snapping. You might be oblivious but Namjoon usually teases both him and Seokjin, flaunting you by putting you on his lap whenever you come over. He may act indifferent but his eyes hold that devilish look in them, knowing exactly how his roommates get riled up when you visit. You on the other hand are unaware, never giving Namjoon’s gestures any thought as something else. 

Seokjin didn’t think Namjoon would use you this time though, his most prized possession.

He leaves the table as soon as he recovers from coughing, going straight to the living room’s sofa which is just right across the roundtable to get a moment of clarity. That's failing cause he can see you and Taehyung from here. His younger roommate still sitting on his staring at you, more like at your swollen, wet cunt, fuck.

Seokjin shakes his head, thinking how absurd this whole thing is. Here they are, his younger friend still ogling at your pussy and him struggling from the pull to look back at your bent position.

The living room’s pretty tense at the moment. None of them can guess what your next step is or if you even have one. 

But you surely do, at least that’s what Taehyung’s been thinking, or you won’t be doing this without Namjoon around. His ogling gets disrupted when you stand up from the fridge, turning around to close it with a pack of soft breadsticks in your hands. He hadn't seen those when he scoured the fridge earlier so Namjoon must've hidden your favourite snack where only you can find that's why it took you a while.

Or maybe, you're simply teasing them.

He watches you sit beside him, excitedly opening the box of snacks Namjoon prepared for you. Your sole focus seems to be only on your food, not looking at him or anywhere else. He wonders if you’re purposely ignoring him though, prompting him to make the first move but he won't. 

Until you give in first.

Initially, Taehyung wanted to break the air and start a conversation with you as soon as you sat beside him but you seemed to be very hungry. Namjoon surely did something to you before coming here, that explains why you've been agitated this whole time. Your pussy lips were twitching earlier and your display of hunger just proves Taehyung's assumption.

For now, he’ll let you eat in peace to gain back that energy that he’ll drain as soon as you give him a sign. His eyes, however, can't stop staring at how you bite a breadstick. Your luscious lips closing on it looks so inviting that it’s making his mind imagine how they would look really beautiful around his dick.

"do you want some Tae?" you surprise him with that soft voice of yours, eyes looking straight at him as you bite the breadstick and slowly chew it in your mouth, without blinking.

There it is.

Taehyung secretly smiles, almost cursing and closes his eyes for a bit before standing up. He doesn't miss the surprised look on your face when you just realize that he's only wearing a towel underneath. He was showering earlier and finished just in time when you and Namjon arrived. Of course, he didn’t wanna miss seeing you just in case you were only here for a bit, changing can wait. 

He can’t pass the opportunity up even though Namjoon’s aware of his attraction to you already. Taehyung never hid it unlike Seokjin, he was very obvious since the first time they met you. He knows that he shouldn’t feel this way, the thought of hitting on you never even crossed his mind before. 

But you’re extremely making it hard for him right now.

His grin widens as he walks around the table to stand before you, prompting you to turn and look up at him.

“yeah, i want some”

He retracts his smile as his eyes meet yours. Big eyes looking at him questioningly though he’s starting to believe that you know what you’re doing to him when you swallow the breadstick entirely, your lips moving back up and slowly sucking the tip while the naive look in your eyes is slowly changing into a cheeky one.

Fuck it, he’ll just apologize to Namjoon later.

Taehyung sees your eyes scanning his half-naked body until they descend toward his crotch, a bulge already visible. Hesitation suddenly emerges in your eyes because Namjoon could come home any minute and catch you both in a compromising position. But then you put down the breadstick you’re holding, reaching out to the wet tissue on the table to clean your hands before putting them on top of the towel that’s covering him.

He notices right away that you understand how he’s expecting you to do something to solve his huge problem. He looks at Seokjin who’s giving him the “don’t you dare” look but he sets his jaw at him, his eyes determined on his decision to play with you. He shifts back at your eager eyes looking up at him while one of your hands starts rubbing his bulge, realizing that you’re waiting for something from him.

“go ahead, baby”

Your core clenches at the pet name, smiling excitedly at Taehyung as you pull down the towel that’s wrapped around his hips. What welcomed you is a very angry-looking huge cock that almost slaps you in the face, its tip already coated with precum. You bite your lower lip at how delicious it looks, your mouth watering to taste him.

Namjoon may punish you for it later on but you can't help but be petty that he didn't let you cum earlier. Placing your hand around Taehyung's throbbing cock, you stick out your tongue to give his tip kittenish licks. He lets out a deep groan at that and you really like it so you begin stroking the rest of his cock, hearing more of his deep moans for the first time.

Seokjin calls your name when you're about to swallow Taehyung's cock in your mouth. Why he did, he doesn’t fucking know. He just felt left out somehow even which is hilarious seeing as he’s the one who’s purposely avoiding you. He’s not doing any better when he can clearly see you and his youngest roommate.

Staying away was no use as he couldn’t get the image of your wet cunt out of his mind. He should've just gone back to his room to end this madness, at least one of them has to be sensible. But Taehyung already gave in and Seokjin might not get another chance to have you.

He’s been doing his best to calm himself down from wanting to pounce on you since you are Namjoon’s doll.

But then you turn to him in surprise and he sees your eyes move down towards his crotch, to the bulge that he’s been sporting. He didn't think you'd bother entertaining him when you're already occupied with helping Taehyung.

Seokjin watches how you mindlessly bite your lip while looking at it. He’s fucked. He’d been too obvious and maybe calling your name earlier was also because he wanted to see this exact reaction from you.

Looking back at Taehyung, he sees the smirk on the younger roommate's face, already knowing that his hyung is definitely getting more riled up at his stunt. He hates how the younger’s plan is working even more so when your hands start pumping Taehyung absentmindedly, causing the younger one to hiss. It's a sight that Seokjin finds so hot that he couldn’t help but take out his dick from his pants and calls your name again. 

Your eyes bulge out at how big his cock is, and like entranced, you stand up and leave Taehyung standing there. While approaching Seokjin, your eyes never strayed away from his cock. You want a taste since it’s so big like Taehyung’s, yearning to feel its weight in your mouth.

However, he stops you right when you are about to kneel between his legs, turning your body instead which confuses you. Your eyes search for Taehyung, who's still watching you both from where he's standing, fully naked with the towel now perched on the chair that you were sitting on earlier. 

A frustrated whine was going to erupt from you until you felt Seokjin’s fingers lifting your skirt, making you bend forward as a reflex. Thinking he’s going to eat you out, Taehyung immediately goes in front of you to help you balance but Seokjin’s just staring at your bare pussy. You want to lower your body to sit down on him so you can also pay attention to Taehyung, whose cock is in front of your face. Seokjin stops you though, hands moving to spread your ass cheeks further so he can see your twitching cunt more.

"why nothing under baby?" he finally asks, his raspy voice filled with curiosity as to why you went commando today. This is the first time that he's talking to you directly other than calling your name earlier, adding the "baby" in it now that causes a stir in your stomach. 

"mhhmm, so that he can fuck me anywhere" you whine, hoping that he'll hurry up so they can fuck you already. 

Seokjin should’ve expected it, and the mention of Namjoon momentarily brings back his guilt about what he and Taehyung are about to do with you. As if you can sense his dilemma, he watches your head turn around as your hand covers his, smiling at him to assure that everything is okay with you.

Relief washes through Seokjin's face as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He’s not just daydreaming this whole thing because you do want them both. He doesn’t know what to do later when Namjoon arrives but for now, he’ll just enjoy what you’re offering. While he’s still contemplating, you decide to sit down on him, your damped pussy lips sliding on top of his swollen dick which causes him to groan inwardly. 

You don’t waste time as soon as you settle on Seokjin’s lap and take Taehyung’s awaiting cock in your mouth, sucking half of him off slowly and giving kitten licks around his tip until he gets impatient, one hand withdrawing from holding up your arms to grip your head. 

Taehyung eyes you with a warning look, clearly not amused at your teasing so you immediately take him whole until his tip reaches the back of your throat. Enjoying the sound of your gagging, he thrusts again, causing your head to bump against Seokjin who’s dipping his head a little to focus on finding any ounce of resistance within himself. Taehyung finds this entertaining, noticing his older roommate refusing to hold you even though you started grinding on Seokjin’s dick unconsciously while sucking him off.

“let go hyung, we all knew how much you want to fuck her” 

Seokjin seethes at Taehyung’s remarks, glaring at him because the younger one’s right no matter how much he denies it. Despite the innocence you’ve been showing each time Namjoon brings you over, the look you always give to him and Taehyung is quite the opposite. You do this without Namjoon noticing but they do, further confusing them about how you see them. 

They shouldn’t care in the first place but the mutual interest between you is what pushes Seokjin to release a deep sigh before gripping your bare waist, hard.

“fuck”

You hear Seokjin curse before moaning at his hard grip, making your breathing quicken. Finally.

Out of all of them, he’s the hardest for you to decipher, not knowing what he’s capable of doing so you’re beyond thrilled now that he’s finally giving in to you. Your excitement increases while hearing him rummage through the side table’s drawer, possibly looking for a stash of condoms so you release Taehyung’s cock from your mouth to turn around to stop Seokjin.

Revealing to them both your intention all along. You never let anyone fuck you raw aside from Namjoon as it is the same for him if he’s fucking others but-

"i want to treat you..", you try wiggling your hips under his grip before looking up in front to meet Taehyung’s blown-out pupils as you continue, "the both of you". Taehyung’s hold on your arms tightens, causing you to wince a bit but a grin graces your lips which didn’t go unnoticed by him. Seokjin stops his movements too, still processing what you just said before bringing his attention back to you.

"you're gonna treat us baby?" a yelp comes out from you when Seokjin suddenly slaps your bare pussy. He spreads your legs further, both hands creeping in your inner thighs under your skirt until you feel his fingers prod on your already wet folds but one of your hands left the other man’s grip to stop him.

"N-Namjoon fingered me already" you inform them both breathlessly, acting a bit shy with your tone but both men know what your real intentions are through the mischief that they see in your eyes.

Your skirt’s still on and Seokjin starts tugging it, clearly demanding for it to be removed so you let go of Taehyung's hold so you can take it off, with Seokjin assisting you until the skirt's discarded somewhere on the floor.

Now you’re only on your pastel purple buttoned-up crop top as Seokjin guides your hips back to him. He fists his cock with one hand, guiding it along your folds as he brings your body down to his cock. When your cunt finally opens up to him, Seokjin releases a guttural moan, closing his eyes as your warm walls envelop his cock.

"big, oh fuck, so big" you whimper, mouth falling open at the slow intrusion because fuck, you feel like his cock could literally split you in half. You continue lowering yourself more, with Taehyung assisting you with your arms until the back of your thighs touches Seokjin's firm thighs.

“can see your pussy now being stuffed clearly with my cock" 

Seokjin breathes out against your shoulders, his mind reeling at how fast everything happened. You were just teasing them both earlier and now his cock’s inside you. You’re even letting him fuck you raw, which he never expected. He’d think this treat from you is too much but who is he to complain? he's been wanting to fuck you since the first time Namjoon introduced you to them.

You grab Taehyung's hips as leverage, pulling yourself up so you can position your legs by Seokjin's thighs. Planting one of your palms at the edge of the couch, you drop your body back to Seokjin's lap and start rolling your hips on his dick. The man behind you groans in surprise, hands latching on your hips to guide you at once.

Suddenly though, Taehyung grips your hair to pull you back towards his neglected cock which you immediately put back in your mouth. Humming around him, you bob your head faster and Taehyung couldn’t help but buck his hips further in your mouth at that.

"fuck, Joon-hyung must've trained your throat a lot hmm? you take me very well baby" he caresses your head and you preen at his praise, opening the back of your throat more to take him deeper than you already are.

“still.. so tight” Seokjin continues to moan deeply behind you, hands alternating between groping what he can touch and guiding your hips as he bounces you on his cock. 

Taehyung lolls his head back at how warm your mouth is around him. He only opens them when you begin moaning more around his cock again, his eyes focusing this time on your bouncing breasts. Your crop top is doing nothing to hold them.

“hyung, take it off” he signals a dazed Seokjin who starts unbuttoning your crop top right away.

Taehyung takes a sharp breath, seeing your breast bounce freely now that you’re fully naked that he couldn’t resist fucking your mouth more. His rough thrusts cause your eyes to water which Taehyung finds so sexy, his cock twitching at the sight. Seokjin’s the same with how his hands are greedily groping your bare tits, trying to thrust up into you at the same time.

"pretty..pretty doll..shit"

Your legs are on fire at this point but you asked for this and it’s worth seeing both men crumble because of you. Taehyung’s about to cum, his lower abs flexing and his hand's tightening their hold on your head. He spews more curses so you eagerly match his thrust, winking at him as soon as he locks eyes with you which takes Taehyung by surprise.

He might not be aware of your dynamics with Namjoon as much as Seokjin’s but he knows his hyung.

He’s fucked but it stupidly triggered his release. He cums a lot, so much that even if you try swallowing all of them you couldn’t and you’re not allowed to. Instead, you open your mouth to show him how you play his cum around inside your mouth before letting it dribble on your chin, dripping through the column of your throat down to your perky breasts that Seokjin has been massaging nonstop.

His labouring breaths are a sign that he’s about to cum as well but you’re just the same, feeling the lower band of your stomach about to snap. Now that your mouth’s not stuffed with Taehyung’s cock anymore, your moans are loud and clear. Seokjin’s hitting your soft spot continuously, pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

“shit, omy-” a loud cry came out from you, your back arching and jerking while you gushed on Seokjin’s cock. Your head landed on his shoulder, whining at his unchanging pace as he too was chasing his own release. Seokjin’s hold on you got firmer and he eyes Taehyung quickly before pulling you up, the latter catching you while he shoots his cum on your ass.

You surprise Taehyung when you nuzzle your face against his groin, licking his cock clean after and an amusing smile appears on his handsome face.

“cockslut” he mutters, brushing your messy hair away from your sweaty face. The raunchy pet name elicits a giggle from you as you let go of his hardening cock. Unbelievable. The grin on your lips stays on until you feel your legs straining from exhaustion.

Seokjin’s cumming so much that when you tried sitting back on his lap, his cock’s still releasing more cum. You take his twitching cock and place it between your ass cheeks as you sit, rubbing on it which causes him to release even more.

All three of you are exhausted, feeling the very wet and sticky cum on your bodies and his softening cock between your soaked pussy. Your eyes are barely open but a satisfied grin graces your lips. Taehyung decides to kneel in front of you, playing with the drying cum around your breasts while you're resting. They’re still sensitive to Seokjin’s nonstop assault the entire time they’re fucking you.

He grabs your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb as he smiles at you fondly.

"baby's a whore"

"yeah, filthy baby" Taehyung muses in response, looking at you with amusement. Seokjin does the same, murmuring praises beside your head and leaving a peck on your shoulder while caressing your arms.

"filthy doll"

The deep voice that answers from the corner of the room halts the three of you, immediately changing the once dazed atmosphere.

Taehyung’s eyes turn to you who mirror the same nervous eyes as he does. You start to squirm on Seokjin’s lap as you see Namjoon standing by the door, holding some bags full of Christmas decorations and gifts. His expression is void of anything which makes Taehyung and Seokjin at a loss on what to do next. The apology is ready to come out from him as he eyes Seokjin who turns quiet and shares the panicking eyes, unsure of how to hold you now that Namjoon caught the three of you.

“hyung-” he starts nervously, his plan on fucking you after was replaced by the need to explain the whole situation to his newly-arrived roommate but Namjoon cuts him off, only staring at your dishevelled form with one raised brow.

"did you enjoy your treat doll?"

Both men are too stunned to speak at Namjoon’s question, their eyes widening in confusion at their roommate and how this conversation’s progressing. Namjoon normally doesn’t share what’s his and as much as they’re not sure if you are, you’re still considered as his so the man’s amused face further confused the other two.

"i did", you meekly answer him, wiping Taehyung’s cum from your mouth with the back of your hands before standing up with wobbling legs as you walk towards him.

Seokjin hisses when your body’s warmth leaves him, instantly grabbing the tissues on the table to start cleaning himself up and putting back his clothes on. Taehyung’s still fully naked with his perplexed expression, eyes never leaving you as you walk towards their roommate so Seokjin hands him something to cover himself up with.

Namjoon catches your waist, eyes scanning through the mess of his roommates’ cum on your body. He takes a coat from the standing rack’s hook and puts them on you, ignoring the stains of cum that will transfer (presumably if it’s his). He stares at you for a bit and you’re beaming at the pride in his eyes for fooling his roommates and getting what you want at the same time.

A smile slowly appears on his lips and to your surprise, Namjoon kisses your forehead gently, in front of his roommates who mirrored your surprised reaction. This is the first time Taehyung and Seokjin witnessed Namjoon be affectionate to you with them around. But his strong grip around your waist says the opposite, one hand coming down to grope your ass, earning a whimper from you after. Just a reminder to everyone who you really belong to.

"do you have my request?" you break the silence in the living room, acting all normal like you didn’t just fuck Namjoon’s roommates in their living room and him catching you three. Your focus is only on him, looking at his eyes with obvious intent.

"of course" he gives a dimpled smile and takes your hand. He stops by the table to put down some of the shopping bags except for a specific bag that you’ve been eyeing since he arrived. 

As you both retreat to Namjoon’s room, he turns to his roommates who are still glued to where they’re standing.

"consider this as a birthday gift, for you both"

e/n: ngl i miss being this nasty lol 21 year old me was definitely something else. the writing's a bit different since i haven't opened this doc in about 2 years 😅

[rafesplaymate]

You Belong To Me.

Rafe Cameron x GlamourModel!Reader

✩‧₊˚ navigation. ✩‧₊˚ masterlist

warnings: smut. p in v. choking. dom / sub dynamics. toxic behavior. dubcon. dark themes / adult content.

a/n: so excited about this AU! banner is for aesthetics purposes only.

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Rafe has imagined this moment so many times in his head. How many positions he would bend her into, feeling her smooth skin against his, pressing his thinner lips to her plump pout that is always enticing and suggestive. Gliding up and down the silky lips of her pretty pussy and then pressing the tip of his cock into the tight little cavern, till he’s pressed all the way in.

But now he’s finally experiencing it for real. In person. He feels like he’s floating, watching her wither around on his ruffled bed sheets with the skirt of her dress flipped up, lacy thong pulled to the side as he runs his fingers over her soaked snatch. Standing over her on the edge of the bed like a predator about to devour it’s prey.

“Rafe-I-please do something baby,” she moans erotically, perfect legs spread wide. One hand on top of and interlocked onto the hand he has groping at her perfectly designed chest while the other holds onto his wrist that is connected to the hand gliding over her soaked pussy. Guiding him to where she needs him most while he teases her.

Rafe smirks down at her, bringing the hand he had groping her tit to pinch her cheeks together, luscious lips puckering even more enticingly then they already were. Her eyes glazed over with tears of lust and frustration, thick lashes wet with tears and the sexy smokey eye she was wearing to dinner now dripping down the side of her face.

Fuck-she looks like the perfect wet dream. Docile, spread open for him and begging for any little touch he’s willing to give her. His already loaded ego bursting through the roof, Rafe always gets what he wants.

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After stalking her and meeting at the country club, Rafe made sure his little model was at his side at all times. Showing her the rest of the island tucked into his side, pulling her in closer and displaying his possessive claim when people recognized her and came up to her. Various request of photos, autographs- even signing the magazines and posters of her completely bare. She is a centerfold, after all. The ultimate Playmate.

It’s not surprising Rafe laid his claim so quickly, he’d be stupid not too. If there’s one thing Rafe was known for- is having the best. He’s got the best home on the island, his family is at the top of the Kildare hierarchy. He’s got the best of the best and now he’s got the best girl on the island. His friends are jealous, his sister is jealous (only bc she met you first-you’re HER friend!) and even his own dad praised him for locking you down, much to Rose’s dismay. He loved that-well his daddy issues sure did.

After showing her off and around the island, Rafe took his little model out on a date in Charleston. He bought her the dress he wanted to see her in, the lingerie he wants to rip off of her. And even brand new designer heels that show off the brand new pedicure he paid for. Although by now he’s sure it’s obvious she’s his, it’s time for him to complete it and claim her in the most primal way possible.

“What’s that, princess? You want more?” he drawls smoothly, still gripping her cheeks in a pathetic pout as she nods her head quickly. Eyes looking at him pleadingly, her smokey makeup even more ruined and rimming her eyes with smudged black while tears drag the makeup down her cheeks, making her look every bit like the erotic dream she is. “Use your words, don’t play stupid.” he mocks.

“Pleas-please! Rafey stop teasin’ me,” she whines, thighs spreading wider and her grip on his wrist tightening as she presses his hand harder into her aching cunt. “Need it soooo bad daddy…” she drawls seductively, “been wanting you since I first saw you.” She admits in a light, airy voice. Rafe groans deeply at that, his dick jumping as he lowers himself a tad and drags her up to him by the grip on her cheeks. Smacking his lips against her harshly, then shoving his tongue into her mouth. Dominating her completely. The idea that his princess wanted him just as bad as he wanted her. Making his already heavy head, bigger.

She squeaks which turns into a long whine as she pushes herself more into his grasp. Following his lips when he pulls back with a condescending smirk etched onto his handsome face. Eyes catching his as his glaze over with something dark, possessive. “I’m never letting you go, got that?” He whispers harshly, grip on her face tightening painfully, and she loves it. Nodding quickly and trying to push her mouth back against his, only to whine louder when he keeps her in place. The smirk falling off his face and his expression turning into something almost sinister.

“Nuh-uh… I don’t think you get it my little star.” Rafe removes his hand from her pussy, his grip on her cheek moving to her throat and squeezing harshly as he pushes himself onto the bed on his knees, straddling her and bringing their faces close together. The hand once on her pussy gripping onto her messy, tousled hair. Snapping her head back harshly. A threatening snarl curling on his lip. “I’m gonna keep you here. With me. All the time.” His grip tightening even harder as he menacingly speaks to her. Her breath catching in her throat, both hands coming to grip the wrist attached to the hand wrapped around her neck. Not making the effort to remove him. Tears streaking even more black down her face as she listens intently to each word that slips past his spit-slicked lips that she wants to suck and nibble on. So badly.

“You belong to me. Only me. You’re lucky if I even let you keep that little job you love so much.” His eyes crazed, voice harsh listening to her whine in protest, “Aht-listen,” he shuts her up. “I’ll let you keep your little job, but I’m gonna make sure you know your place. By my side, under me. Wherever and however I want you. Don’t even have to say it but you already know you’re my girl. And one day, when we ditch this place m’gonna make you my fucking wife and lock you down with a heavy ring on that pretty finger. Got it?” His eyes cut deep into hers, it feels like he’s staring into her soul. Dominating it completely as well as her heart and mind. She should be scared, revolted. Beg him to let her go and get far, far away from him. But she doesn’t, because she doesn’t want to. They barely know each other, only having met just a few days ago. But it already feels like so long to her, and deep in her chest she knows she wants no one but him. Ignoring the screaming in the back of head that’s logically telling her to get away from him.

Her heart pounds in her chest as they hold eye contact, his darkening by the second when she doesn’t respond immediately. “Don’t make me repeat myself. You’re not gonna like what happens.” He threatens to which she moans lightly. She brings a dainty hand up to his reddened face, his cheek warm and damp under her palm. Nodding as much as she can with the grip he has on her throat, “Yes,” she chokes out.

Rafe loosens his grip just a bit, allowing her space to breathe. “What was that?” he presses on, inquiring her to continue. She looks at him with stars in her eyes, “I’m all yours Rafey… wanna be with you. All the time. I belong to you.” She whispers with utmost sincerity, her eyes displaying the genuineness behind her statement. The glazed over look in them only telling Rafe everything he wanted to know. His chest tightening with pride at the fact that he knows he’s got her. Right under his thumb how he wanted her. And he’s not letting go.

“Mhmmm,” he drawls deep in the back of his throat with that cocky smirk back on his face. Using the grip he has on her neck to push her back harshly into the bed. She bounces against it, gasping air deeply into her chest and blinking away the haze in her eyes from the lack of oxygen. Rafe stands on his feet quickly. Making quick work of unbuckling his belt and tossing it the side as he unzips his pants, his thumb tucking into the band of his boxers and pushing them down along with his pants. His hard, achingly hard cock smacking against his toned-tanned tummy. The pretty pink tip already leaking copious amounts of pre-cum. She watches with wide eyes, legs spreading wider at the excitement of finally getting what she wanted since she first met him. Mouth watering at the sight of his pretty cock.

Rafe grips her by back of her upper thighs, yanking her harshly to the edge of the bed till her ass is hanging over it. Lifting her hips up and lifting his leg with bent knee on the bed to hold her thigh over his while he pushes her other leg back by the behind of her knee. He grips himself in his free hand, slapping the leaky tip of his dick on her swollen clit harshly. Watching as his pre-cum leaves strings of wetness when the tip pulls back up. He lowers himself to her leaky little hole and slightly nudges the tip in. Listening to her whine louder. Rafe looks at her with darkness in his eyes, using the hand once holding his cock to now grip the thigh laying over his leg.

“Raf-“ with no warning he pushes in harshly, till his hips snap firmly against hers. Trimmed bush pressing harshly into her clit, as his hands grip harder into her thighs. Her words catching in her throat as she moans loudly with a gasp. Hands immediately scrambling to grip on something. Anything. One hand twisting into the sheets as the other presses into his lower stomach.

French-tipped nails tapping against him as she squeaks when Rafe begins giving bruising, unforgiving thrust. His hand quickly grabbing the one smacking at his pelvis and intertwining their fingers as he presses it into the mattress next to her head. Lowering his body into hers, a sick smirk on his face as he watched her gasp and cry loudly. Eyes rolling back and head turning from side to side as she tries to get accumulated to the overwhelming feeling of his harsh pounding. Her thigh that is laid over his, bending back with her knee into the mattress as he lays lower onto her. Her pedicured toes pointing and tapping into his lower back. The other leg held open by his large hand getting spread wider as it sticks out straight to the side with pointed toes.

“Sshh. Sshh. I know baby,” his voice light and calm in contrast to his unforgiving thrust. Stopping to grind into her deeply as he brings his face closely to hers. He brings the hand that was interlocked with hers, to grip her face and bring her attention back onto him. Staring deeply into her hazed over gaze, “Shh shh shh. I promise i’ll be nicer to you next time my little star.” His infamous smirk etching itself back into its rightful place on his handsome face. As he continues on. Pressing a light kiss to the lips he’s learning to love so much.

“But right now.. daddy’s gonna show you exactly how much you belong to me.”

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a/n: i need him so bad. i hope i’m making it clear that little star is just as sick & twisted as him.

[candylix]

one little lie | hyung line (part 3)

Pairing • FWB!Minho x Fem!Reader x Hyung Line

A/N • This is part 3! You can see the series masterlist here.

Summary • The boys have one rule in their shared apartment. Don't bring girls over for sex. So when Chan, Hyunjin, and Changbin walk in on Minho fucking the living daylights out of you in the living room, he has to lie to save his own skin. His excuse? That's not a girl under him... you're a sex robot. And now they all want to try you out.

Genre • smut, sci-fi ish? (sex robots are a thing in this world that people know about and use)

WC • 2.9k

Content • reader pretends to be a sex robot, free use, dubcon, groping, dry humping, sexual comments, piv penetration (with feelings!), clit stimulation, orgasm denial, riding

Minho walks you out of the bathroom, and you arrive to the empty living room. Chan was definitely still recovering after what he just did, but where were the other two?

You sit on the couch, right in front of the coffee table that started it all. This would have been a completely different day if you fucked in his room instead. Maybe you would've had to try and sneak out of the apartment without being caught. That would've been thrilling.

But you have to admit, today was fun too.

You hear Minho's phone vibrate in his pants, and he takes it out to see who's texting him.

"Oh, it's Jisung. He says he's gonna be here very soon."

"Talking to the robot? I know you're lonely, but come on."

Hyunjin strolls into the room, wearing nothing but loose, cotton pajama pants. You freeze, eyes staring straight ahead. As soon as he sees you sitting pretty in the middle of the couch, he stops caring about whatever he was going to do, and makes his way towards you.

Minho's eyes furrow, but he ignores Hyunjin's teasing to text Jisung back.

Hyunjin takes a seat behind you, and snakes one hand under your shirt to fondle your boobs.

"Do we have to give her back?" he whines.

"Yes..." Minho says, and looks back up from his phone, only to see Hyunjin groping you like he wasn't even there. "Do you have to be doing that? Have some decorum."

"I literally saw you with your dick in her a few hours ago. You don't get to talk."

As if to spite Minho, he moves himself to sit behind you, and both his hands travel under your shirt and to your chest. He continues squeezing you, palms rubbing over your nipples until they poke out under his hands. He pulls and pinches them, and you try to suppress the noise you make, but a soft whimper slips out anyway. You feel something hard press against your lower back— he's turned on. You sit there as he fondles you, and his erection grows stiffer. Suddenly, you feel movement, and you realize Hyunjin has started rubbing his dick against you. He grinds his cock against your ass, slightly bouncing you up and down, and Minho just stares in silence at the scene unfolding in front of him. His own erection forms as he watches Hyunjin grope and dry hump you. Unconsciously, his hand lowers down to palm at his crotch.

Finally, Changbin walks in, and when he sees Hyunjin humping you on the couch, he kicks him out from behind you. Reluctantly, Hyunjin stops, and his hands come out from under your shirt. He moves to sit beside you once again.

"Do that in private, man. Gross."

"Well, Minho liked it," Hyunjin says, and Minho's cheeks flush.

"What? No! I was in shock! I can't believe you did that."

"Mmhm. Sure. Look where your hand is right now."

Minho looks down, and his eyes widen when he sees his hand mindlessly rubbing his bulge. He yanks his hand away, and you can see the huge mound that has formed.

"Both of you need help," Changbin says, and leaves for the kitchen.

A moment later, Chan walks in, and sees you on the couch.

"Oh, she comes with clothes?" he asks

"Of course she has clothes," Minho says pointedly, "I had to bring her here, and I'm not gonna be seen carrying a naked woman around with me."

"I don't know what you're into," Chan says, and walks to take a seat on the couch beside you. You're sandwiched between these two men, and Chan's hand lays itself on your thigh. Unlike Hyunjin, he doesn't go any further than that.

"He's into watching people fuck the sex robot," Hyunjin says, snickering at Minho's face getting progressively more red.

Chan's face drops. Apparently, it wasn't just 'bros helping bros' for Minho.

You hear someone pounding on the front door, startling everyone in the room, and saving Minho from this uncomfortable conversation. The door knob rattles frantically, but the door is locked, so whoever's there goes back to banging on the door.

Minho is more than happy to leave them and go open the door, and no one is surprised when Jisung reveals himself on the other side. He barrels into the apartment, almost pushing Minho down, and his eyes fix on you.

He swings his arm out to point at Chan.

"Get your nasty ass hand off of her, fiend!" he yells.

Chan raises his hands up, and Jisung points at Hyunjin next.

"And you. Put a shirt on!"

"This is literally my apartment," Hyunjin says, shrugging off Jisung's complaint.

Changbin runs back into the living room with a half empty water bottle, raised like a club.

"What the hell is that- oh. Hi, Jisung." He lowers down his improvised weapon.

"Hey," Jisung says calmly, as if none of that just happened.

"Here for your girlfriend?" Changbin asks, intending to make fun of him, but his words bounce off Jisung easily.

"Yes," he says, and turns to the men on the couch, "Now bring her to me!"

Chan and Hyunjin look at each other, look back to Jisung, and when he signals for them to come, they lift you up and walk you to him. Jisung gently grasps your shoulders, and looks into your eyes.

"Blink once if you're ok."

The two men standing behind you roll their eyes at his theatrics, unaware that you can and do respond. You blink, and he breathes a sigh of relief. Jisung holds you close to his chest, and looks back at the men in the room.

"Well, thanks for using my robot without permission. I definitely wanted you to do that," he says, fake annoyance in his voice.

"Not sorry," Changbin says, walking over to where the rest of you are standing. "She was great."

"Can you send me the link to the store? I want one for myself," Hyunjin asks.

"You can't buy these online," Jisung responds, not missing a beat.

Unlike Minho, Jisung is good at coming up with excuses that are actually believable. You've known him a long time; it's a skill he developed while asking for homework extensions and calling in sick to work.

"Oh," Hyunjin says, "is there a physical location I can go to?"

"No the store burnt down. It's closed forever," Minho says, words tumbling out of his mouth faster than he can think. Jisung side-eyes him.

"Anyway, I gotta go now," Jisung interjects. He opens the door to leave, and Minho wraps an arm under you to walk you out.

"Bring her back sometime!" Chan yells out.

"No!" Jisung yells back, and closes the door.

When they're finally out in the hallway, Jisung smacks the back of Minho's head.

"Ow, what was that for!?"

Minho unwraps his hand from around you, and clasps the sore spot on his head.

"Everything," Jisung says. "Never try to lie again. You're terrible at it."

"Agreed," you say.

You walk back to Jisung's car. Minho takes the front seat, so you sit at the back while Jisung drives. Everyone sits in silence, not sure what to say after all that happened. You take this time to reflect. You know what a rational person would think about all this, but they've fucked the rationality out of you. All things considered, if Minho wanted to 'borrow' you again… you don't know that you'd be opposed.

"So…" Jisung starts, interrupting the silence. "Can I use the sex robot too?"

This time it was Minho's turn to smack him on the head.

"I was joking!" Jisung says defensively. Minho raises his hand again, and Jisung shields himself with his arm.

"Hide your boner before you say that," Minho responds.

"What? I'm not-" he glances down, noticing the tent springing up in his pants. "This is just because I love driving. Traffic is so sexy."

"God, you're so annoying. Why am I even friends with you?"

"Excuse me. I just saved your ass."

You laugh at your two friends bickering in the front seats. They can be stupid sometimes, but you're glad to have them around.

"Thank you, Jisung," you say, and they both quiet down.

"Thanks," Minho says softly.

You can see a smile form on Jisung's face in the rear view mirror.

"Don't mention it. I'll always be here for you both."

You finally arrive back home, and you hug Jisung goodbye. Minho walks with you into your apartment.

The first thing you do is collapse onto the couch. It was a long day, you're tired, and all you want to do is lie down.

"Come on, you need to wash up properly," Minho says, attempting to lift you up.

You don't budge. Minho gives up, and falls on top of you, squishing you under him.

"Hey!" you laugh, and you try to push him off, but he holds onto you.

"I thought we were laying down," he says, smiling as you struggle under him, until you finally manage to push him off. He rolls onto the floor, laying on his back. He looks up at you, and sighs.

"I'm sorry about all that. I should've just..."

"It's ok," you say, and he sits up.

"No, that was a shitty thing to do."

"Minho, really. I had fun."

His face finally softens up.

"Yeah, I could see that," he says, smirking. You throw a cushion at him.

"Don't give me that look. I saw you jerking yourself off in the living room."

He pauses.

"Fuck. They saw me do that. I'm never gonna live that down. And I didn't even get to cum," he says, collapsing back to the floor. "Why did they come home so early."

You feel bad for the guy. All his roommates got to fuck you, when the whole plan was for him to do it. You saw his dick bulging in his pants more times than you actually saw his dick today. He was probably horny as hell, but trying to keep it together.

His face is buried in his hands as he thinks about all the embarrassing things he did in front of his roommates.

You just wanted to tease him more.

"Yeah, I bet they're talking about it right now," you say. He groans. "I bet they're talking about how you helped Chan fuck me. How you bounced me on his dick and watched him cum inside me."

He squeezes his legs together. The teasing is working.

"I bet you wanted to watch the others too, right? You didn't get to see Hyunjin fucking himself on my boobs."

Minho moans, and you can tell he wasn't expecting it, because he turns to hide his face from you.

"And Changbin... he was so thick. He completely stretched me out. You should've seen the way he pounded into me. He could barely fit inside."

"You're killing me," Minho whispers.

"Remember what Jisung said in the car? I'm sure you would've loved to see him pull over and fuck me in the backseat-"

"Alright!" he shouts, interrupting you.

He suddenly stands up, with a massive protrusion in his crotch. Without warning, he pulls down your pants, and then his own, and you see his hard, leaking cock throbbing in front of you. He wastes no time climbing on top of you. He pulls off your shirt, and throws it across the room.

"You really want to see me horny, huh? Well guess what, it worked."

He grabs your wrists and holds them over your head with one hand. He did this after your time with Hyunjin, when he was wiping you down, but you don't think he'll be as gentle this time.

"Do you know how hard it was, seeing their cum all over you, and not fucking you then and there?"

At those words, you can feel yourself getting wet. You've never seen him like this before.

His free hand goes to his cock, positioning it at your entrance. He pushes it to your core, but doesn't put it in. It throbs against you, desperate and needy, and your pussy throbs with it.

"I was trying not to overwhelm you, but it looks like I should've just fucked you every time we went to the bathroom together."

He punctuates his sentence by ramming his cock in you. It hits you hard, and you can't help the moan that comes out.

"While I was waiting for you to finish, you were getting drunk on all their cocks, huh? You like getting fucked like a sex toy?"

He rams his dick inside you again, and you moan louder.

"I'll use you like one, then."

His hands move to your waist, and he thrusts into you, again and again, finally getting to fuck you after watching all his friends fuck you first. His bucking is desperate and frantic, and you barely have time to process the way his dick plows into you before it's taken out and slammed back in.

One hand moves to your clit, and you moan out his name as he rubs circles around it. You twitch under his touch, the stimulation from inside and out of your pussy leaving you unable to control yourself. He watches you writhe on the couch, brain turned to mush as he fucks you senseless.

How he feels is paradoxical— he liked watching you get fucked, but he needed you to want him more.

He leans over you, thrusting into you deeper, and grabs your boobs.

"Did you like it when Hyunjin did this?" he asks, and gives them a squeeze. You answer his question with a moan, and he kneads into your breasts. You can feel your orgasm growing as he continues bucking into you, and your nipples harden under his hands. He pulls your nipples when he thrusts into your g-spot, and you can feel yourself about to reach your climax.

"I'm gonna cum," you moan, and he immediately stops. You feel his dick slide out against your walls, and you whimper at the empty feeling he leaves you with. Your core aches from the loss of contact, throbbing as your orgasm slowly disappears.

"Not yet."

He carries you up from the couch, making you stand up while he takes a seat. His legs are slightly spread apart, and he holds his throbbing cock up, but it's so hard that it might as well be standing up on it's own.

"Sit down," he commands, and you waste no time climbing onto his lap. He guides you onto him, and you feel his cock fill you up as you lower yourself down. Soon, his entire dick throbs inside you, hot and stiff as it presses into a sensitive spot.

"I'll make you feel better than Chan did," he whispers, and a chill runs down your spine.

He takes one of your nipples into his mouth, licking on and around it, and he kneads your other boob with his hand. He rolls his hips into you, his free arm holding your waist to keep you steady, and you melt into the feeling. His cock pumps into you, slow at first, but he speeds up as his own need builds. Your head leans back as you feel your orgasm coming, and you buck into him. His dick hits you harder as you bounce into it, and he moans into your boob. He breaks away from your chest to watch you fuck yourself on his dick. Your eyes are closed, mouth slightly open, and you moan loudly when he bucks his hip forcefully into you.

His hips roll into you faster now, watching you moan and twitch on his lap. You can feel your orgasm come quickly, and one last thrust into your g-spot takes you over the edge. You feel his dick keep pounding into you as your walls clench, and you gush around his cock. The pressure on his dick, and moan that comes out of you, are enough to take him into his own orgasm. He bucks into you wildly, and you feel his hot liquid spurt out inside you as he moans your name.

He leans back into the couch in exhaustion. You're too tired to get yourself off him, so you grab his chest to hold yourself up.

He admires how you look, breathing heavily after being fucked, sitting on his lap with his cock still buried deep inside you. He could stay here forever with you like this.

"Who was better?" he asks, "Me, or them?" He rolls his hips into you, and you twitch from how sensitive you are.

"You," you say, still breathless from what just happened.

"Of course I am."

He helps you off of his lap, and you collapse onto the couch next to him.

"Still, if you want me to 'borrow' you again, let me know. I'm sure they'd love to see you again."

You're too tired to respond, so you just nod your head.

The atmosphere surrounding the rest of the evening is very warm. He cleans you up thoroughly, and you order takeout to eat for dinner. He puts on a movie, and you fall asleep on his shoulder halfway through. When the movie ends, he carries you to your bed and tucks you in. He considers leaving, but you look so comfortable, so instead he joins you under the covers and snuggles up to you. Soon, he falls asleep too.

He dreams of Jisung fucking you in the backseat of his car.

Here's what Jisung was up to during the events of the story

taglist:

@loeyscock @0325tiny @5starlee @miupow @mapofthemazeinthemirror @sadrosessing @luminouskalopsia @minghaosimp @curiousgworge @azuna-sz @piscesrising01 @g-bbzz @extrhotjne @nabi-tokoshi @kpopsstuffs

@weareapackofstrays @jabmastersupriseee @neko-squidblog @lurking-coconut @kiaralynn3838

@chanssmiles @linos-kitten

This is the end! Thanks for reading everyone! This was meant to be the end of the series, but a lot of people have asked for more, and I really enjoyed writing it, so eventually there will be more parts! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! For now, here's the series masterlist, and maybe by the time you see this I've already written more.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 1, a familiar stranger

Masterlist Word count: 1.2 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut. No graphic content yet.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'Did Rafayel find someone to rent my apartment yet,' Zayne questions as he puts two mugs of tea on your coffee table. You shrug in response. 

'Haven't heard anything yet, but knowing him, it'll probably be soon.' Zayne smiles at your sulking expression. He reaches out to ruffle a hand through your hair. You quickly smack his hand away and stare at him with pretend anger. 

'How have you been holding up without me?' That question is loaded, and he knows it. For the past four years, he has been your neighbor. But he has always been much more than that. 

When he noticed you were living on your own, he would sometimes bring over leftovers. Some days you would come home to a note taped on your door with a request to be quiet because he had a long shift and another even longer shift coming up. You started doing the same, but with notices if you had someone over or were doing something that could cause noise. Eventually, you two got to talking and formed a familial relationship. It always felt like you had a big brother looking out for you. 

Ever since he moved to the next city over to work in another hospital, you have missed him tons. Sometimes it hurts when you realize you can't just walk two steps from your front door and be talking to him. Meeting up is even more strenuous than it was before, and you miss him like crazy. It's not just the proximity though, no, it's also that you don't know everything going on in his life anymore. He's doing amazing things, meeting amazing people, helping to make the world a better place, and you barely know the names of his closest colleagues. 

'I'm fine,' but your voice betrays you, trembling throughout your words. Zayne's eyes look worried, and his hand moves to touch your shoulder to comfort you. 'I'm fine, really. Just getting used to being alone in the city again.' 

'You're not alone anymore. You've got Tara, and you get along alright with that new colleague of yours, right? Jeremiah?' 

'I know, it's just...' He reaches out to pull you into his chest. 

'I understand. I miss you too.' 

'I just hope the next person is nice too,' you mumble against his shirt while he gently rubs your back. All this feels so normal, so nice. You're not sure if you'll ever fully get over not living next to Zayne anymore. It was perfect, and now it's gone. You can't blame him though. This was a very important step for his career and you're glad he did it, it just makes you feel like you're stuck in the same place all over again.  

Everything just feels so stagnant, so normal. Like nothing ever changes. You can only tell that time has passed by your growing fingernails and the dust building up on your windowsill... You should really clean. It's been too long. 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

'This is nice,' Luke awes as he walks into Sylus’ new apartment. The place is completely empty and there's a bit of an echo, but he's right. The place is nice. That doesn't mean Sylus has to be happy about it. In fact, he's not even close to being done groaning and whining about being doxed for the third time. 

Sylus grumbles: 'My last place was nice.' Kieran nudges him over the threshold of the apartment. 

'Stop whining you big baby. Shit happens.' Sylus turns to him with a death glare. Kieran rolls his eyes and holds up his hands in defeat. 'Sorry man. There really isn't much else to say about it.' 

Sylus knows damn well that he's right, he's just not ready to admit it. That last place was a little bit special to him. It was the first place he moved into on his own after a long relationship. He knew his job would always be an obstacle in any relationship, but he thought she had gotten over it. She clearly hadn't.  

When his popularity skyrocketed, she left him. Told him she couldn't keep sharing him, no matter how many times he told her there was no one to share him with. She was part of the reason he started doing solo stuff. He even offered her to stop doing it. It wasn't even a big deal to him. That didn't matter to her. 

Luke and Kieran tried to get him back to who he was, yet even they couldn't ignore the fact that he became a little different. He distanced himself, became harsher, became colder. He wasn't particularly rude or anything, just a bit off-putting if you don't know him. 

'Anyway, I'm going to let your neighbor know we're moving you in this week,' Kieran states and quickly leaves the apartment. Luke gives Sylus a look. 

'What,' Sylus snaps at him. 

'Shouldn't you join him?' Sylus raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms. Suddenly, he looks a lot bigger and a lot more intimidating. 

'I just got doxed. Why would I go around introducing myself to everyone?' 

Luke just shrugs. Sylus antics don't do much to him anymore after knowing him so long. 'Fair enough.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

The doorbell buzzes. It's ever so slightly longer than the average person would press a doorbell, and so ever so slightly more annoying. Mayorly more annoying because you were just dozing off cuddled up to Zayne on the couch. It has been a long time since that happened. 

You groan and shift, but Zayne tightens his grip. 'Don't go.' His voice is gravelly, tired, a little strained. For a little while you're considering it, but then the bell buzzes a second time. Longer this time. 

'It's just for a second,' you whisper back. He nods and his grip loosens. You get off his chest and quickly shuffle to the front door. When you open it, you have to take a few seconds to digest the picture in front of you. 'Kieran? Why are you here? Does Tara need something?' 

It seems his head short-circuits just like yours has as he takes a few seconds to answer. 'Eh, no. I didn't know you live here. I'm just... I'm helping a friend move in. I'm doing a round to warn people about the noise.' 

'Oh, good to know. Thank you. Who's your friend?' 

'His name is Sylus but he's a pretty private person, so I can't promise you he'll stop by to introduce himself.' 

'Fair enough,' you respond while you think back to how Zayne used to be. It was a similar situation. Took more than half a year before you two would even greet each other when passing in the hallway. 'Well, give Tara my best. I'll probably see you soon.' 

'I will. See ya.' 

'Who was that,' Zayne asks from the couch. 

'Friend of the new neighbor. He's moving in this week.' You grab your phone from the coffee table to check if Rafayel send anything about a new tenant, instead you see a notification from Red Crow's socials. A new post. 

"No smutty chapter this Friday. I have a busy week.   Maybe if you beg, I'll record myself getting off." 

Previous - Next

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 15

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: Hellllooooooo

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your muscles release as you whine. The orgasm ripples but unlike before, it doesn’t pinch behind your tailbone. It’s like everything is looser. You heave into the top of the pillow as your body slackens against the cushions. 

Lloyd rubs you gently as he slows, spreading your cum along your folds, a trail streaked over the curve of your ass. He gropes you, only for a moment, then lets you go with a growl. He sighs. 

“Fuck,” he taps you with a single finger. “Dimples are kinda cute, ya know?” 

“Hansen,” you snip. 

“Don’t undo all my hard work,” he warns and stands. “Now, I don’t know how you put up with them but you got kids. They got what... four more hours at school? That means we need to get you back in semi-working condition.” 

“The doctor said I need to relax,” you say. “Which is easier when you’re not around.” 

“Sure, my mom used to say as much—er, cut that.” He snickers, but not very genuinely. “Look, he said a hot bath would do ya well. Get this, I got just the thing.” 

He bends and scoops his arms under you. He tips you into them and lifts. You lean into him with no other choice. You’re overly aware of your stomach rolls. 

“Baby, this is kinda hot. Like a doctor-patient sorta thing. When you’re back on your feet, maybe I'll get you a nurse outfit. Crotchless and all,” he taunts. 

You groan and rest your head on his shoulder. You’re tired and weak. A little ashamed of how easily he got you going. Well, he's taking advantage of an injured person.

He’s right, though. It’s been a long time since Pete got you off. A long time since he genuinely wanted you. He might claim to be trying since you found out about his betrayal but you know better. He’s guilty and afraid. He feels bad for being caught and doesn’t want to face a life of single fatherhood. Well, you think you’re done worrying about what your husband wants. 

Lloyd carries you into a pristine bathroom. Gold-veined black marble with matching metallic trim. Large mirrors across the wall above the floating countertops; a furry bathmat; fluffy towels hanging on gold bars, and a large black porcelain tub with a perfect circle brim. Huge, deep. Expensive. 

“It’s got jets,” he proclaims proudly as he sits you on the toilet, a fluffy cover over the lid. “Ten settings, including pulse.” 

You look around. Another twinge of inferiority in your chest. He saw your house, the home you barely keep together; your worn-out couch and fading rug. As much as it makes you self-conscious, it makes you angry too. How’s a prick like that get paid for being so terrible? 

He bends over the tub and twists on the faucet. He pushes down the stop and stands with a groan. He braces his hips. 

“Ah, I’m feeling a bit stiff myself,” he turns to you, his bulge at eye level. You sigh. “More than enough room for both of us.” 

Your eyes drift to the side. He’s worse than a child. He is willfully petulant. 

“Let’s get you in first,” he lifts you and angles you over the edge. You grip the sides and help him ease you in. You won’t complain, not as the hot water laps around your legs. Sweet relief. 

He steps back and peels off his shirt. You roll your eyes. He snickers. He strips without shame, leaving his clothes in a heap. He steps over the wall of the tub, dick bobbing without a care, and lowers himself across from you. He keeps his arms stretch around the brim. 

“Ahh, this is nice, isn’t it?” He preens. 

You meld with the porcelain, staring at the ceiling. 

“Quite the upgrade, huh?” 

“Look, I get it. It’s a nice place,” you say. 

“Baby, if you think that’s what I’m getting at--” 

“With as much respect as I can muster for you, Hansen, kindly just stop for two seconds.” You rest your hands in your lap and groan. “Thank you.” You look at him. “I appreciate you doing this even if it is for your own gain.” You drop your head back. “My back fucking hurts so bad.” 

He laughs, “need some more pills.” 

You shake your head, “I’m fine. Just...” you close your eyes. “Shh.” 

You wait for it. Steel yourself for it. Another smart remark. 

It doesn’t come. Instead, the tub thrums and a jet sprays right against your hip. You moan without meaning too. Oh, that’s nice. 

Still, he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t gloat about the fancy tub or the noises escaping you. You cling to that peace, that rare instance when you can just be. Not an employee, not a wife, not a mother. Just a woman basking in a moment’s peace. 

🗄️

“Mom,” Simone’s voice breaks through the darkness. 

Your eyes snap open. Panic swells over and you lift your head with a confused blink. You stare at your daughter then look down at yourself. 

You’re in a fluffy black robe. Not your own. It’s a bit bigger and much softer than any of yours. A blanket drapes across your, pulled up to your waist, and a cushy pillow sits under your head. Your eyes scan the room. You’re still at Hansen’s but how did she get there? 

“You were sleeping. Tried waking you up but... figured you needed it,” he puts his hands on his hips. 

You glance at him as Malik appears at his sister’s side. His eyes are round. 

“This creep showed up at the school,” Simone says. 

“Hey,” Lloyd frowns. “I’ve been nice, you know? You could try.” 

Simone rolls her eyes and shifts her bookbag on her shoulder. “Where’s dad?” 

“He’s...” you hesitate, sorting through your foggy thoughts. “He’s got his meeting. Sweetie, why don’t you read your book? I just need to wake up.” 

“Mommy,” Malik pouts. 

“Come here,” you pat the sectional beside you. There’s more than enough room. 

Simone drags her feet away, “when are we going home?” 

“Soon. I’m just... I went to the doctor. I should be okay soon.” You explain. 

Lloyd paces listlessly as Simone sits in a velvet chair. She curls her lip at the decor before she digs in her bag for her book. 

“Well, you need anything, kiddo? A snack?” He offers, his voice uncertain. You could laugh. He’s really clueless. 

“First, don’t call me kiddo,” Simone says. “Second, don’t talk to me when I’m reading.” 

You should tell her to be nice but you won’t. Malik climbs up and sits against your stomach. You lay your head back down and yawn. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you all home in one piece,” Lloyd declares. You squint. He’s trying a bit too hard. 

“Right,” you pat Malik’s leg and turn, planting your elbows to haul yourself up. The pain is duller but still there. Manageable.  

“I can put something on for the boy?” Lloyd grabs a remote. “Those freaks in their coloured shirts or that annoying cartoon dog.” 

“Sure,” you say. “Mal, I’ll be right back.” 

You angle yourself around and grunt as you get to the edge. Simone peeks up at you. You frown. 

Lloyd flips through the streaming guide and finds some childrens’ show. He hits play. He puts the remote down and approaches. He offers his hand and you push him away. 

You stand and whisper, “where are my clothes?” 

“Bathroom. The half-bath down the hall,” he points. 

You glare at him, “you should’ve woke me.” 

He shrugs. You shake your head and shuffle out. At least you can walk. 

You find the half-bath and your clothes are waiting. You dress lazily. You do your best to tidy your appearance before you emerge. You can call a cab. 

As you open the door, you flinch away from the figure waiting outside. It’s Simone. She scowls at you. 

“Oh, hi, honey, everything okay?” 

Her lips downturn further. “You’re cheating.” 

You blink, gasping as if she’s slapped you. “What?” 

“You’re cheating on dad.” 

“Honey--” 

“It’s gross and you shouldn’t have let him bring us here--” 

“Honey, no, that’s not--” 

“I know. I can tell. I’m not stupid, mom,” she snarls. “And I’m going to tell dad.” 

You shake your head, “sweetie, things are complicated right now--” 

“It’s nasty. He’s nasty. Mom! How could you choose him?” 

“I didn’t--” You shudder, “baby, you don’t understand.” 

“I do.” Her face turns to stone. “And I hate you.” 

She turns and stomps off. You stare after her, paralysed. You touch your chest, the breath trapped inside, and you whimper. She’s twelve. You can’t explain this to her, but what do you do? 

You go to the living room, “where’s my phone?” 

Lloyd looks confused at the TV as the cartoons put spaghetti on cotton candy cones. You don’t understand those shows either. He peeks over at you. 

“Huh?” 

“My phone. I need to call a taxi.” You hiss. 

“I’ll drive you. It’s no problem. I was just going to order dinner--” 

“No, Hansen. You’ve done enough. I’m taking my children home.” You insist. 

“Watch yourself,” he warns. 

You grit your teeth, “Malik, come on, let’s get your shoes.” You cross the room and grab the remote, shutting off the TV. “My phone, now.” You shove the remote into Lloyd’s hand. 

He stares you down, “what did I do this time?” 

“I have a husband. I have other things to worry about.” 

He sighs and snatches the remote. He turns and slams it down. He grabs your phone from a black tray on the console table. He gives it to you. 

“Well, seems you’re feeling better. I’ll see you at work.” 

“You will, Mr. Hansen,” you sneer. 

You go and grab Malik’s hand. You take him off the couch and into the entryway. You look around. You go to the door and peek through the window. She’s sitting on the front step with her book and bag. 

You get Malik’s shoes on and grab his knapsack. You gnash down on the pain fluttering in your lower back. You let yourself out. 

“Sim, let’s go. Cab’s coming.”  

You quickly order a ride through the app and mourn the unnecessary cost. You stand beside her on the top step. She gets up and looks pointedly away from you. 

You wait in a silence only punctuated by Malik’s clueless questions. When the car gets there, you make sure the kids are buckled in and ride in the middle seat. The way home is much too long. 

You wallow in resent. You deserve that. Simone is so much like you and that makes you both proud and sad. She’s stronger than you in ways but you don’t want her to be damaged by this. You don’t want her to be as cold as you’ve become. 

You tip the driver on your phone before you get out. You heard Malik up the walk as Simone stomps to the front door. You unlock it and she charges inside. She kicks her shoes off on the mat and continues onward. You don’t stop her. 

You put Malik in front of the TV with his cars and go into the kitchen. You focus on the simple task of figuring out dinner. It’s thoughtless as your mind spins. You did this. Not Pete. Not Lloyd. You. You let it all happen. 

You were too weak to find another job. Too weak to stand on your own. And you can be as mad as you want that Pete did it first but it doesn’t absolve you of your own actions. 

Simone deserves a better mother. Malik too. And you deserve every ounce of spite coming your way. 

[sugurufic]

Two best friends in a room... (Gojo x F!Reader)

Summary: You and Gojo are stuck with each other one evening and Gojo decides to make a tiktok. You've got your own devious plan in your head.

Word Count: 1k

Content: fluff, Its a bit different from the other trends i've written… gojo tries this one on you instead, reader mentions she is bad at biology but likes math (self insert).

masterlist

“Satoru, why do you only have sweets for snacks?” you complain, plopping down on his bed. “Don’t you ever crave something salty or sour or spicy?”

“Hey! Stop whining about my sweets in my dorm!” He pouts, half sitting up. “You should’ve gotten your own snacks instead.”

“Suguru and Shoko aren’t here yet,” You say, taking out your phone to text in the groupchat. “I’ll ask them to bring me something other than sweet.”

“Oh, Suguru is busy - Yaga sent him on a mission at the last moment.” Gojo complains. “Shoko is busy preparing for her med school entrance exam.”

“Oh, right! I had totally forgotten about that,” you say, thinking about Shoko. She didn’t really need to prepare this hard, but you figured she did it because she enjoys studying about the human body. She has the brains to do it, you dont - having always been more inclined toward maths than biology. “Shoko’s stronger than me because I had already given up on biology back in middle school.”

“That is good because you make an excellent sorcerer.” Gojo says, somehow the teasing is missing in his words. “People would have died if you became a doctor.” There he is.

“Oi! I wasn’t that bad.” You defend yourself.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” he shrugs.

“What do you want to do then, Satoru?” You ask.

“Let’s make a tiktok!” He sits up straight, reaching for his phone on the nightstand. “I have been wanting to do this for ages,”

“What?” you ask, not recalling any trend that you have come across recently. But that might be because you don’t use tiktok (A/N: not a lie, but i use ig reels so it's the same)

“It will be funnier if you don’t know,” the white haired man grins, looking at you from over his sunglasses. His bright blue eyes sparkle with mischief - which you’d have found adorable if you weren’t the target of his joke.

He sets his phone up, floating it in the air above the bed with his limitless. The mischief is not gone from his eyes, and he has ditched the glasses for now. You rarely get the chance to admire his pretty blue eyes - it’s for your own good, you think. His eyes are captivating.

The audio starts to play, and Satoru says the words with it, “two best friends in a room…” you recognize the audio, but force yourself to not give it away, a devious plan forming in your head on seeing his annoyingly endearing smirk. “...they might kiss,” he finishes, and you give him a shy smile, keeping up the innocent act.

“Yes we will,” you say with the audio, still keeping that innocent act with puppy eyes looking right into his pretty blue eyes.

“What?” the what he says times up with the audio, but the shock on his face is genuine.

“I said, yes we will,” you finally give up the innocent act and smirk, loving the red-faced Satoru, who looks like he is about to explode. You turn towards him, on your hands and knees as you lean into his space and he seems to be running on autopilot and leaning towards you, the red flush never leaving his face. The audio continues to play promiscuous girl, but you don’t pay much mind to it.

Just as your lips are about to touch, you look at Gojo - his pretty eyes closed and lips open expectantly, and you almost feel bad for what you are about to do to him. Keyword being almost. You have gotten a once in a lifetime opportunity to get the ultimate teasing rights over him - with the proof being recorded, and no matter how much you want to kiss him too, you steel your nerves to not laugh, and blow air into his ear instead. 

Your warm exhale into his pink ears has your best friend shivering with a shrill squeal, and the phone drops to the bed, still recording as Gojo loses all his focus.

“What the hell was that?!” He screams, voice still higher pitched.

“I was having a bit of fun,” you say, biting your lip to stop the laughter. “But you looked like you actually wanted to kiss me?”

“So what if I did?” He gets defensive and pouty. “You’re pretty and I like to hang out with you.”

“Is that so?” you tease, feeling warmth creep up your face. “Go on then,” you say, knowing well enough that you will regret this later, but you can’t not do it. “I’ll let you kiss me,”

If Satoru was blushing then, his blood vessels looked ready to combust when you said those words in that challenging tone. He was all but compliant, leaning towards you when you took charge and grabbed the collar of his white shirt, pushing yourself to him, your knees on the outside of his thighs and your lips pressed against his. His large hands fly to your hips, holding on to them as if his life depends on it and parting his lips eagerly to welcome your tongue.

Your heart thunders in your ears, disbelief at the fact that you are kissing your best friend, your very attractive best friend that people would give anything to get a chance with. One of you hands leaves his collar and rests against his warm cheek, caressing it gently as the kiss turns into a full make out session with you sitting on his lap and his hand reaching down to your ass.

When you separate, both of you are panting, heavy lidded eyes looking into one another, and Gojo finally breaks the silence with a breathy admission, “I don’t think I can ever stop wanting to kiss your sweet mouth, princess.”

“Then don’t stop,” you whisper back, resting your forehead on his.

“Be my girlfriend,” he asks.

“Be my boyfriend,” you say.

“Hey girlfriend,” he tests.

“Hey boyfriend,” you tease.

“Let's go on a date, girlfriend.” Gojo suggests. “I’ll let you have something other than sweet, babe.”

You giggle and nod, before taking his phone and sending the tiktok to yourself. Boyfriend or not, you can never pass up the opportunity to get blackmail material against him. He is an annoyance, but he is your annoyance now.

A/N: man i love bottom-coded gojo with my whole heart. also first time writing gojo i hope you like it &lt;3

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

❝JEONG YUNHO❞

➾In Which: All of my hard thoughts about Yunho.

❥Jeong Yunho x fem reader

➯a/n: written as fem reader but applies to gn reader as well !didn't put the taglist cause i didn't want to spam people (one post for each member coming in quick ish succession). JESUUUUS YUNHO BIAS WRECKING ME SO HARD THAT THIS IS LONGER THAN JOONGS 😭 he's just such a freak i couldn't stooop ➯other members here <3

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut, headcanon / rant style

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not grammatically correct i'm just yappin, OMG STAR CALM DOWN WHAT THE F-, piss kink: drankin it - both ways. cnc: yunho likes when reader fights + begs / mocks her for cumming / use of the word rape (which IT IS NOT). ddlg: reader dressing in cute clothes / calling him daddy / being taken care of by him (want that need that real bad thx💞). cunnilingus, sweat, size difference, sex toys, cunnilingus, big dick yun, fingering + almost (?) fisting, spanking, praise and slight degradation, exhibitionism: semi public spaces + getting caught, sharing is caring featuring song mingi, deep throating + throat bulge + throat pie, hardcore overstimulation, hardcore dacryphilia, hardcore sex — he's a hardcore person what can i say

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

18+.MINOR FREE BLOG.

➯ddlg / age play disclaimer: ddlg and age play is a popular kink and most people who are into it are NOT into it simply because it's acting cutesy or young. most people enjoy it because of the comfort of being taken care of / told what to do or the pride of taking care of someone else. it is DIFFERENT AND SEPARATE from age regression and ALWAYS should be, ALWAYS will be on my blog. ➯cnc disclaimer: CONSENT IS SEXY. all parties are and always will be consenting in my stories. cnc is a way to explore power dynamics and it's attractive to many people, it does not "promote s/a", the first c is CONSENSUAL. you should only ever do it with someone who you trust. be safe and stay freaky !!

❝JEONG YUNHO❞ is a rough teasing dom. like... rough, rough. not mean, but teasing. did ya read the warnings ? hope so —

➾pet names include: sweetie, doll, sweetheart, love, good girl, princess. the occasional 'slut'. he likes to be called daddy cause that's what he is !

➾yunho loves taking care of you, in and out of the bedroom. he takes pride in it and in you. he praises you, again — in and outside of sex, for every little thing you do right. we'll focus on the sex stuff kkkk he isn't satisfied unless he makes you beg to stop because you've had enough pleasure. calls you a good girl as you bite back your whines while he sinks his massive girth into you, lets you suck on his thumb to distract you from the stretch — even though he already made you cum over all four of his fingers while his thumb stroked your clit.

➾yunho doesn't do soft sex, so he treats you like a fragile doll before and after to show that he cares; even when he's about to (or just did) fuck you until you literally can't breathe through your tears. he'll only be soft with you when he's giving head — again, before or after; he doesn't mind eating some of his own cum if it means soothing your cunt with his soft, hot tongue. practically making out with your cunt and kissing all over it and sucking on your pussy lips gently while rubbing your shaky thighs.

➾he's especially rough when you're doing cnc. i wrote a whole fic about this, it's stress relief for him; giving him a sense of control as he overpowers you even when you try your hardest. he barely stretches you out, manhandles you like crazy, and fucks you until he says you're done. you can bite, kick, scratch, pull his hair — it makes him harder. it gives him a sick sense of accomplishment when he makes you cum while you're fighting against him (even though he knows you like it just as much as him). he likes mocking you, saying 'aww you like when daddy 'rapes' you' with the cockiest grin on his face.

➾yunho has a hardcore piss kink !! just like seonghwa, he likes when he fucks you so hard you lose control of your bladder but it's way more than that for yunho. he loves drinking your pee, and loves when you do the same for him. the taboo-ness of it makes his cock ache but also something about it being so undeniably personal — he gets to carry you in him and you get to carry him in you ♡

➾if he doesn't finish inside of your cunt, it's down your throat — like ... down, down. he pulls you so your head hangs off the edge of the bed and shoves his cock straight down your throat. it took a looooot of work to even be able to take him and he praises you for that while he chokes you on his dick. rubbing the bulge in your throat as he fucks it, feeling himself moving inside of you, he tells you how proud daddy is of his beautiful princess.

➾he will fuck you wherever and whenever as long as you don't say you're uncomfortable; which you rarely are so — anything is on the table. the bathroom at inkigayo needs to be saged after the things it's witnessed him do to you. the practice room, the recording booth, the fucking elevator even. the members have caught you more than a handful of times and:

➾yunho always makes sure he covers your entire body the second he hears someone approaching, but he never stops. he likes when people catch you. like — yuh-huh, that's right. i get to fuck this pretty girl whenever i please and she loves me enough to let me. talk about a fucking thrill. if any of the members don't turn away fast enough for his liking though; they get a death glare as he continues to pound into you and make you scream his name. well... everyone but his best friend.

➾song mingi is the only man yunho will ever trust enough to even fathom letting him touch you. and if you trust him just as much, your boyfriends best friend is always welcome to stay and join if he catches the both of you. you're starting to think that yunho texts him sometimes to get 'caught' because it's happened more times than you can count. he just loves showing off how good you are for him and how nice he treats you and how sweet you get when he's fucking you into a sobbing mess.

➾i mean it when i say yunho is nastyyy mother fucker (/affectionate, ofc). he licks up your sweat and tears as he fucks you into a blubbering wreck wearing nothing but an adorable little skirt or one of his giant shirts. fucks you on a mold of his cock until you beg for the real thing and then, when he gives it to you; almost makes you regret it as he fucks you to near unconsciousness. he overstimulates you with a vibrator until you piss yourself just so he can drink it. he calls you all kinds of sweet names and then lets 'my slut' slip when you least expect it just to see your eyes widen. he spanks your ass raw when you disobey; which could mean anything from you didn't ask permission before cumming or you didn't eat a full meal.

➾after care might as well be heaven !! all of the softest touches, his fingertips on your chin as he tilts your head back to help you drink, getting cleaned up so gentle it makes your stomach full of butterflies, drowning in your designated aftercare hoodie; one of his, spider-man themed <33

[lesbianpedroacosta]

restless night - (Pedro Acosta & Marc Marquez, omega!pedro, omega!marc)

No one knew Pedro was an omega. That was just how he liked it. No expectations. No stereotypes. Only him proving himself on the track.

Still, rumours flew around the paddock, especially since they couldn’t legally force him to disclose his secondary gender to anyone. But with large part of the grid’s secondary status being publicly available, people were sure to question him.

Most people took his hunger on track and his willingness to flirt with anything pretty to mean he’s an alpha. Pedro was content to let them belief that. Not that he was ashamed of being an omega. He just thought that whole instinct thing was a bit silly.

Pedro also wasn’t the only omega on the paddock. The fact that Marc was one was pretty publicly known. Bez had also all but confirmed his own secondary gender.

However, Pedro enjoyed not having rumours following him every waking moment about who he could possibly be sleeping with. If he got a rumour that he was fucking Brad, he might actually let Marquez run him over and he was not joking.

He also wasn’t a fan of the stereotypical omega behaviour. (Or so he told himself, travelling around the world with nesting supplies consisting of one heavy blanket and an Ikea shark plushie. Sometimes he got his hand on a particularly nice blanket, and it made his omega flare up, something he’d tried his best to supress. Not that there was anything wrong with an omega.)

Recently, he’d been especially unsettled. Whatever he did, he could not get a solid night of rest, and it was starting to impact his racing. He kept crashing out, missing good points because he couldn’t stay on his bike.

It’s gotten so bad, the other riders were asking him if he was okay. Pedro answered every concern with a wide-grinned reassurance while his brain kept getting foggier and foggier.

After another crash during a practice session, Pedro found himself behind a random motorhome. He knew he couldn’t make it back to his without running into someone and he already felt ready to claw his skin of.

Suddenly there was a shadow over him. Startled, Pedro looked up. It was Marc.

“Pedro are you okay?”, he asked, worry written across his face. He leaned down. The he seemed to do a double take. “You’re an omega” It was less a question and more a statement.

Pedro froze. He tried to sniff the air around him. And sure enough, his blocker had worn off and his salty caramel smell saturated the air. Clearly omega. There was no use denying it. Not when he was cornered like that.

“What about it?”, he asked challengingly. Marc squatted down to be on the same level as him.

“You haven’t been nesting.” Pedro didn’t have to guess why Marc knew. It was widely known across the paddock that he’d stopped nesting for a bit after the thing with Rossi and immediately became more unhinged.

“Quite frankly, that is none of your business.” Pedro scrambled to get up, almost getting caught in his sleeves.

<hr>

When Marc asked to talk with him post-race, Pedro was honestly curious what the older omega had to say. So, he made his way over to Marc’s half expecting an biology lesson and the older rider to teach him ‘how to take care of his instincts’ or whatever.

He knocked. Trying to keep his face neutral.

“It’s unlocked!” Okay then.

Pedro expected a lot of things, but he didn’t expect Marc to be lounging in a nest, that was so big it filled out the entire back of the motorhome.

“Come join”, the older omega demanded. Pedro shook his head, a bit overwhelmed. Who did Marc think he is. Where did he get the audacity. Pedro turned around. He was not doing this. Who cares if his instincts were yelling at him to get into the nest. To get to safety. To finally rest in a soft, protected space.

He’d barely taken a step, before a whine hit him full force. His body froze, stopping him in his track. It was the whine of a lonely omega, calling out for company. And fuck did it work. Pedro tried to resist, battling between his mind and his instincts but eventually his instincts won.

Pedro turned on his heels, letting Marc tugging him into the nest like he pleased. The omega’s citrusy smell surrounded him, and Pedro was honestly surprised he didn’t mind. Normally, he was pretty territorial, but apparently that didn’t matter when it came to Marc Marquez.

Marc adjusted them, until Pedro’s face was tugged into his neck, right where the comforting safety-omega-sleep smell came from.  He thrown a blanket over them, heavy and impossibly soft.

Pedro was embarrassed at how fast he was knocked out.

[de4dlyniightshade]

꩜ EVERY MAN GETS HIS WISH

꩜ PAIRING: spencer reid x afab!reader

꩜ RATING: +18, mdni

꩜ WORD COUNT: 2.3k

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: smut, perv!sub!spencer, softdom!reader, underwear stealing/sniffing, mommy kink, male masturbation, handjob, voyeurism, exhibitionism, hint of degrading, praise, dacryphilia, overstimulation.

꩜ PROMPT: this ask!

© to de4dlyniightshade. no translations/reposts.

[WARNING!] - explicit sexual content! mdni!

꩜ A/N: kinda hate this but a few people said they wanted a perv!spence fic so here it is!(although short and mid)

Spencer was a smart boy, obviously, but sometimes he could just be so naive. I mean, come on, you didn't just leave your used underwear in his apartment by accident. Well, actually, the first time was completely accidental, but when you used the bathroom a few days later and saw the exact same pair in his laundry basket, a familiar staining on the delicate fabric, you knew exactly what he did with them, so you decided to make it a little habit to leave your underwear for him as a treat.

This was one of those times. You had stayed the night before, showering in the morning and leaving your lacy underwear that you wore specifically with the intention of leaving them on the floor of his bathroom, an irresistible trap that he simply couldn't pass up, waiting for you to leave to spend the day with Penelope so he could snatch them up, retreating to his bedroom and tugging his pyjama pants down, settling on the edge of the bed.

He always felt guilty doing this, but he just couldn't help himself. He was always so shy around you, so flustered and bashful all the time, hardly ever initiating anything with you, let alone outright asking you to do things to him when he needed you, so this was the next best thing in his mind. It wasn't logical, but it didn't have to be to anyone but him.

Spencer let out a shaky breath as he slowly wrapped your underwear around his shaft, whining as he stroked upwards to his tip, the slightly rough material of the lace making his cock throb, whimpering at the familiar sensation.

He let his eyes flutter closed, his head tipping back and his jaw falling slack, whimpers and moans spilling from his lips as he stroked himself with your used underwear. The whole thing was so perverted and wrong, and he knew it, but he just couldn't stop himself. No matter how hard he tried to tell himself not to, he just couldn't.

"o-oh p-please…" He moaned to nobody, his thighs trembling slightly as he ran his thumb over his tip through the material, moaning out your name as he did and pressing his lips together as he whimpered pathetically.

His breathing picked up, coming out in gasps and pants as he stroked himself faster, his back arching as his mind went numb, imagining you touching him, your body on top of his, your hand wrapped beautifully around his cock, your lips on his neck, hands on his body, words in his ear, you. all of you, his head swimming with nothing but you, so much so that he didn't hear the front door open or your footsteps coming closer and closer to his room.

You had never actually planned to hang out with Penelope today; it was all a ruse to catch him in the act. You wanted to know exactly what he was doing with your underwear, even though you already knew he was jerking off into them, but you wanted to see it—to catch him cumming into your underwear like a pervert.

You couldn't help but smirk to yourself as you heard him on the other side of the door already. It had only been about five minutes since you left, and he was already whimpering and moaning desperately, hearing your name fall from his lips, his voice high-pitched and airy.

As if it were staged, his door was left ajar, just enough for you to peek in without being seen, and you couldn't resist, holding your breath as you peered through the gap, clenching around nothing at what you saw. Your beautiful, sweet boy is fucking his own fist with your dirty underwear and moaning your name.

You stood and enjoyed the sight for a moment, drinking in the opportunity to watch him without his knowledge, seeing him so brazen, not holding himself back as he usually does around you.

Once you were satisfied watching him, you slowly and silently pushed the door open, leaning on the doorframe with your arms crossed over your chest and smirking at him.

"Naughty boy," you tutted, shaking your head in feigned disappointment, Spencer gasping, eyes wide and alarmed as his head snapped to look over to the sound of your voice, quickly tugging down his t-shirt to cover what he was doing, cheeks flushed cherry red.

"I-i- you- y-you were- when- i-" he stuttered, scrambling to get anything out and failing completely, the words getting caught in his throat at the sight of you, a smug look on your face, and then he knew, he knew he was caught.

"I-I'm sorry," he whimpered, looking away from you as tears sprung from his eyes, completely humiliated. The thought of you being disgusted with him made his stomach churn with worry.

"Oh, sweet boy, no need to be sorry; you just couldn't help yourself, right?" You honeyed, slowly stalking towards him, revelling in the way he gulped, averting your gaze, and nervously shifting where he sat before he nodded shakily.

"Aw, pretty little thing, show mommy," you husked, taking his chin into your fingertips and turning his face to look at you, him gazing up at you through his lashes with wide eyes, his cheeks flushing impossibly darker as he let out a shaky breath, wetting his lips as he nodded, hesitantly lifting his shirt to expose himself to you, the sight of your underwear wrapped around his painfully hard, leaking cock almost making you moan, instead pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Oh my...so pretty, baby," you murmured, cupping his face and stroking your thumb over his cheekbone, Spencer whining at your praise, averting your gaze nervously, feeling shy at the whole situation.

"Go on then, don't let me stop you," you murmured, smiling sweetly at him as he turned his face away from you, whining softly and letting out a shaky breath, swallowing thickly as he pressed his thighs together.

"I said go on," you reiterated, quirking a brow at him with a knowing look on your face, watching as his eyes darted around the room before he hesitantly moved to take your underwear into his hand, lifting them off his shaft before you gripped his wrist to stop him.

"No, no, I want to see you cum all over mommy's panties," you smirked, lowering yourself to be eye level with him, fighting a smile at the way he gulped, breathing shakily. He just looked so precious that you couldn't resist surging forward to lock your lips with his, the sudden action making Spencer gasp into your mouth before he let his eyes close, moaning softly against your lips.

The kiss was short-lived as you pulled away, tugging on his bottom lip as you did just to tease him, the feeling of your teeth grazing his plush, soft lip making him let out a needy whine, his eyes fluttering open to see you staring right back into them.

You smiled sweetly as you leaned in to press your lips ever so gently to his ear. "Now, touch yourself for mommy, and maybe you'll get a reward," you whispered, running the tip of your tongue over the shell of his ear before pulling away, taking a few steps back for the best view of him.

"Y-Yes, mommy," he breathed, slowly wrapping his hand around his shaft once again, swallowing thickly as he stroked upwards, pressing his lips together to keep himself quiet as he circled his palm over his sensitive tip, the material of your underwear dampening with precum.

"Good boy," you praised softly, the feeling of having complete power over him making your head swim with the possibilities of what else you could make him do with just a simple kiss and some words of praise, the smallest thing making him completely pliant, bending to your will in any way you desired.

Spencer whined loudly, stopping his movements and turning his cheek to you in embarrassment. "I-I can't when you're looking," he pouted, letting out a disapproving huff.

"I have to do everything for you, y'know that?" You scoffed, rolling your eyes dramatically as you quickly moved to stand between his spread thighs, confusion on his flushed face before you placed your hand on his chest, roughly pushing him back to lay down, your change in demeanour making him let out a gasp that turned into a loud whimper when you wrapped your hand around his tip and squeezed, not too hard that it hurt but hard enough that his body twitched, his back arching and thighs trembling.

"Sit still," you warned, a domineering tone in your voice, your darkened eyes shooting up to glare into his wide ones, watching him nod quickly, a sadistic smile tugging at your lips as you began pumping his needy cock, quiet gasps and whimpers slipping past his lips at your touch.

You set a brutal pace immediately, stroking him from base to tip with your own underwear. The added stimulation of the lace only enhanced the pleasure, but he was just so sensitive that he could hardly form a single word, already fucked out and desperate to cum after barely a minute. You always adored how reactive he was to your touch, always whimpering so cutely, his pretty porcelain thighs twitching and tensing, his back arching towards you, and his hips rutting into you, whether it was your cunt, your mouth, or your fist, like now.

"o-oh mommy! p-please!" He moaned loudly, panting and writhing as you towered over him, fist-fucking his cock at a pace you knew would make him act this way. "I said sit still," you reminded him, huffing as you placed your free hand on his tensed stomach, pinning him to the bed to stop him from moving so much.

"S-sorry, 'm sorry, j-just so s-sensitive, mommy," he whimpered pathetically, tears spilling from the outer corners of his eyes, streaking his temples and into his hair. The sight of him so wrecked and fucked out already made you clench around nothing, your underwear sticking to you awkwardly.

"You wanna cum baby boy?" You asked in such a sickeningly sweet tone, a complete contrast to the way you were practically torturing him, purposefully overstimulating him. It wasn't like it was hard to do so; his cock was always sensitive to you.

"y-yes! Wanna cum, mommy!" He gasped, rutting his leaking cock into your fist that was wrapped around his tip, focusing on his most sensitive point just to see him tremble and hear his pitiful sounds.

"Admit you're a dirty boy; tell mommy how much of a dirty little pervert you are," you teased, a cheshire grin pulling at your lips as he gasped and whimpered desperately, tears flowing from his eyes, which were squeezed shut, his hands gripping the sheets at his sides as he thrust his cock into your hand, which you had stopped moving completely, just watching him fuck your panties to get himself off.

"Mommy's d-dirty boy! 'm your dirty boy!" He gasped, his voice whiny and pathetic, saying anything you'd tell him to as long as you'd let him cum, completely cumdrunk and desperate, a mess to your touch.

"Such a good boy," you praised, moving your hand once again to stroke his length, the head red and swollen. So desperate for release, how could you say no?

"m-mommy! c-can't-mmph 'm gonna c-cum, mommy!" Spencer cried, his body writhing, trying to squirm away from you against his will, completely overwhelmed and overstimulated, turning to bury his face into the sheet as you moved to hold him down by his hip, only stroking him faster and harder.

"Cum for mommy, baby, that's it," you husked, the sound of him sobbing and whimpering, muffled by the sheets, making you bite down on your bottom lip. He was the perfect submissive, completely compliant and obedient to you, always so good, so eager to please his mommy.

"m-momma! i-" He cried, cutting himself off with a choked sob as he came hard, his release spilling down your hand and onto your underwear as well as spurting all over his shirt, making a complete mess of himself.

"So good, baby, you did so well for mommy," you praised sweetly, slowly stroking him through his orgasm as pleasure wracked his body, twitching and trembling as he whimpered quietly and pitifully into the sheets.

"I-I can't, mommy, 's too much," Spencer whined, squirming away from you as you decided he'd had enough after briefly contemplating forcing another orgasm out of him, but the way he was gasping for breath, splayed out so beautifully fucked out under you, made you decide not to. Instead,  you shifted to rest your knees on either side of his hips, leaning down to capture his lips in a gentle kiss.

He returned the kiss lazily and out of rhythm, so exhausted and hazy from his high that he could hardly keep up with you. "Want mommy to clean you up, baby? How's a nice bath sound, hm?" You spoke soothingly and quietly as you pulled away, stroking your thumb over his smooth cheek.

"Yes, please," he croaked, his voice completely spent and raspy from all the noise he'd been making, and you couldn't help but coo at him, pouting out your lip and looking at him with big doe eyes, quickly pressing a kiss to each of his flushed cheeks and then his lips before pulling away, standing up from the bed to run him a warm bath, but not before you tucked your hands under your skirt to tug down your underwear, Spencer not noticing what you were doing as he laid with his eyes closed.

You bit down on your lip teasingly as you resisted laughing at your own devious plan, untangling your underwear from your ankles before gently tossing them. The flimsy material landed perfectly on Spencer's face, startling and confusing him as he lifted the material. "They're a bit wet, but you like 'em used," you teased, smiling devilishly at him as he blushed a deep pink, still clutching the soiled material in his hand as you turned on your heels to leave the room, and he just couldn't resist bringing them back to his face, inhaling your scent like the pervert he is.

@cancersunthatsit @mindfullycriminal @teachugger69 @queermaxwooo @olives-and-sunshine @ac0511 @reidsdaisies @iluvreid @unimportantweirdo @criminalmindswife

(if you wanna be tagged when i post fics lmk!)

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hii!! could i request for a kiyora jin fic?

── WICKED GAME

Synopsis: The first time you see him, Jin Kiyora spits blood at your feet. That is when you are sure you will love him.

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Kiyora x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k

Content Warnings: alcohol/hangovers, reader is drunk and at a party in the first part, mentions of drug use and smoking but NOT by reader or kiyora, blood and violence, sooo much swearing at one point, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…, kiyora is down to punch an mf at all times, he’s probably ooc (if it’s even possible for him to be ooc??), he is NOT bestie approved but like he’s actually a cutie i promise, open ending, implied to be a college au but there’s nothing scholarly or collegiate about it except for the party and the sports mentions, many liberties are taken with kiyora’s backstory and character alike

A/N: hiiii omg i’ve never written kiyora before!! i hope i kinda did him justice?? EEK LMAOAO okay also i wasn’t sure if you wanted me to go in a specific direction so i picked one at random and left it kinda (very) open ended so that way if you/anyone else likes it i can write a pt2 but if not it’s nbd!! it’s just that as you can see it’s already kinda long and i didn’t want to write a ton if people weren’t fucking w it yk 😭 ANYWAYS rambling aside i hope you enjoy!!

Additional: check my pinned post to make sure i have requests open; after reading the rules, please feel free to make your own!

There is a man screaming at you. You know that he is screaming because his voice pierces the drunken haze settled over your mind, shame shooting through that spinning, floating sensation, and you know it is at you specifically because he is glaring and it’s not at your best friend or the other girl you came with, it’s at you and only you. He’s glaring and saying something over and over again, but all you can do is tilt your head at him.

“Get the fuck out of here,” he says. “Get the fuck out. Why the fuck are you still here?”

More of his sentences than not are just that word. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s unnecessarily angry. You try to think — what did you do? Your best friend places one hand on your arm, and you’re pretty sure she’s telling you it’s not worth it, that you all should just go, but your drink is still half-full and you want to finish it before you leave.

“Why are you mad?” you mumble, fascinated by the pinkness of the alcohol, the way it contrasts against the white plastic of your cup.

His eyes are open and wild, and before you know it he is reaching out for you. Your best friend pulls you back just in time, and she shrieks for help as his fingers close around nothing, but the music is loud and the crowd is thick and there’s no way anyone will hear her.

You’re still confused. The man is still angry. You try to recall the conversation you’ve had with him up until this point — well, it wasn’t really much of a conversation to begin with. What had even happened? 

“He’s on something,” your best friend hisses in your ear as she ushers you through the crowd. “No way this is just a couple of beers talking. All you did was ask him if his watch was real, and he totally flipped out.”

Right, that does sound familiar. You giggle as she shoves you outside, because it’s altogether hilarious. The other girl is hanging onto your best friend’s other arm and whining about how you had to leave the party early, and your best friend’s face is pale, her hair sticking to her forehead, but you’re not thinking about any of that. At least, it’s not at the forefront of your mind; instead, you’re wondering why that man has followed the three of you.

“I’m going to call the cops if you don’t leave!” he says, and it’s all you can do to lurch backwards as he stops on the porch. He’s intimidating, you can see that better in the light, and even though you’re more lost than anything, you’re pretty sure you should be afraid, too.

“Is this even your house?” you say sleepily. “Won’t the cops shut down your party first?”

It’s not his party or his house. You know that because the person who threw it is the one who invited you and your friends, but for some reason, this man is dead-set on the fact that you are some kind of intruder.

“The only ones that’ll be getting in trouble if the cops come are you guys, for fucking trespassing,” he snaps. “You’re not invited here!”

“We are,” you say. “Wanna see?”

You’re about to pull out your phone, but your best friend slaps your hand and shakes her head. The man is flushed now, and slowly, you put the phone back in your pocket, pursing your lips and avoiding his gaze.

“I’m serious. Don’t make me say it again, you fucking—”

“Woah, dude. Didn’t know that was your new thing,” a new voice says. You don’t recognize the speaker, but you can tell that he’s pretty, with dark hair and dark eyes that shimmer in the flickering porch light. He’s sitting on the porch swing, his feet kicked up on the railing, and there’s an unlit cigarette in his hands. When he notices you staring at it, he shrugs and flicks it to the ground. “It’s not mine. Some girl asked if I wanted it and left before I could say no.”

“Kiyora,” the man sneers. His attention has been diverted entirely, and the newcomer — Kiyora — stands casually, lazily. He’s slouching, but you can tell despite his posture that he’s a slip of a person, with needle-like features and a scowl that somehow resembles a grin. 

“Sup,” he says. “You into bothering girls now?”

“Stay out of this,” the man says. “You weren’t invited, either.”

“Eh,” Kiyora says. “I don’t need an invitation.”

“I’m being serious,” he said. “You don’t get what a fucking bitch she is.”

Kiyora glances over at you, and it’s like he’s weighing his options. And although it would be just as easy for you to run — it’s what your best friend is urging you to do, it’s what you should do — you can’t help but wait. You can’t help but want to know what he’ll decide.

“Y/N,” your best friend pleads. “Come on, let’s just go while we can.”

“I want another drink,” the other girl says. “Just one more shot? I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“No more shots tonight,” your best friend says. “Y/N, I’m being serious.”

That’s when Kiyora smiles slightly, and then he’s drawing his fist back and punching the man. Your best friend gasps, and even the other girl yelps, but you are enthralled by it. The man howls, and then he’s charging at Kiyora and they’re falling down the porch stairs and it’s a whirlwind of blows and shouts and cursing as they rip up the grass of the front yard with the fury of their spat.

It’s over almost as soon as it begins. The man’s collar is clenched in one of Kiyora’s fists, and his eyes are glimmering with tears at the way Kiyora looms over him, the other fist prepared to hit him again. The hollows of the man’s face are all blue and bruised, and he slaps lightly against Kiyora’s forearm in surrender. Kiyora gives him a measured look that’s somehow mocking, and then he lets him go. He stays on the ground, lying prone and motionless, and your best friend — she’s always been so empathetic, even though hardly anyone ever deserves it — tells the other girl to sit and wait before she rushes inside to alert the owner of the house.

“There we go,” Kiyora says, dusting himself off and springing to his feet, rolling his shoulders like he’s waking up from a long nap. “What a wimp. Can’t be talking that kind of shit if you don’t even have the skills to back it up.”

“You stood up for me,” you say. “Thank you.”

He raises his eyebrows, and then he makes a face. You realize he’s not escaped unscathed at the exact moment that he spits a mouthful of blood into the grass before you, his lower lip shiny and split, the same angry color as the crimson in the grass. You gaze at the way it dissolves into the dirt, and then you step over it, meaning to embrace him but mostly just collapsing into his arms. He catches you by reflex, not out of desire, and then he snorts.

“It’s not like I really did it for you, so don’t thank me,” he says. His nose is bleeding, too. You’re sure of it, because something warm dribbles onto your shirt, the stain blooming like rust against the lacy left strap. It’s a white top, thin and deep in the front, and it’s one of your favorites, but shockingly, you’re not angry that it’s been ruined.

“Why’d you do it, then?” you say.

“Couldn’t tell you,” he says. “I guess I just thought that your side was the right one to pick this time.”

To you, it sounds like the same thing, but it must’ve meant something different, because he sounds incredibly sure of himself. You hum in agreement, and then Kiyora nudges you off of him, motioning over to where the other girl — she’s your best friend’s new roommate, and you think her name might start with a C, but you can’t really recall — is sitting on the curb alone.

“Go sit with your friend,” he says.

“Okay,” you say, though you pause before you can join her. “Wait. Is your name Kiyora?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Y/N,” you say. “I’m Y/N.”

“’Kay,” he says. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you say. “Nice to meet you, Kiyora.”

He finds this funny, chuckling as you stumble over to the curb, sitting next to the girl, who’s texting someone with a big red x in their contact name. That probably means she shouldn’t be talking to them, but all you do is lean your head against her shoulder. You’re not the type to reprimand anyone, not when you’re like this. Maybe a few drinks or a few hours earlier, you would’ve said something, but at the moment, your mind is preoccupied with your newest fixation.

Your best friend comes out with the owner of the house, and then she makes a beeline for where you are sitting. Helping you to your feet, she drags you back in the direction of her apartment, plucking her roommate’s phone out of her hands and ignoring her arguments, instead turning to you.

“What the hell happened to your shirt?” she says. “Did that — did they hurt you too? Are you okay?”

“What?” you say. “No, I’m fine. Hey, listen. I want him.”

“Want who?” she says.

“Kiyora,” you say. 

“The dude who beat that other guy up?” she says. You nod. Her brows knit together, and she shakes her head. “You need to sober up.”

“I’ll still want him when I’m sober,” you say.

“Then you’re sick in the head,” she says. “But I guess that’s nothing new.”

The next morning, you wake up on your best friend’s couch. Your makeup is blurred and messy on your face, the remnants of your mascara forming dark shadows under your eyes, and your clothes are rumpled. You are close to throwing up, and your head is pounding, so you trudge over to the bathroom, which is thankfully empty. 

In the mirror, things look even worse. Your once-white shirt has remnants of your drink splashed on the front, and the left strap is a flaky sanguine, the color bleeding into the place where your heart beats behind your breast. It’s frightening at first, but dimly, you remember that the blood is not your own. It nearly could’ve been, but it isn’t, because you were saved. Someone took your side, and he saved you, and it’s his blood that you’re covered in.

“Damn.” It’s your best friend’s other roommate, the one who didn’t go out with you three last night. You don’t remember her name, either, or maybe she just never introduced herself. “What kind of night did you have?”

“Not my best,” you admit with a yawn. 

“Yeah, no shit,” she says, going to the other sink and running her toothbrush under the water. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” you say, because anything more makes the knife in your head twist more and more. “Just need a shower. Some dude freaked out on us last night.”

“Is that what happened?” she says. “D’you need a doctor or something?”

“It’s not mine,” you say. “Some other guy fought him off for me. His nose bled all over my shoulder when I tried hugging him afterwards.”

“What a hero,” she says, running a washcloth along her face. “Was he cute?”

“Does that matter?” you say. She winks at you in the mirror.

“Obviously. If he’s good-looking, you should try to find him and thank him while you’re sober. If he’s not, then you can just let it go,” she says. 

“Yeah, he was cute,” you say after thinking about it for a moment. “I’m pretty sure I liked him. Last night, I mean.”

“Yeah?” she says. “Did you get a name or some other way to contact him?”

“Uh, his name is Kiyora, I think,” you say. 

“Kiyora?” she says. “What does he look like?”

“He’s not that tall,” you say. “Dark hair. Pretty eyes, though I can’t quite remember what color they were.”

“I can’t say I know him,” she says. “Maybe you can try social media, though.”

“I think that might be my best bet,” you agree, taking off your shirt and tossing it to the ground, stepping out of your pants and reaching into the cabinet for a spare towel. “Do you mind if I just shower in here?”

“No worries, I’m almost done,” she says, squeezing sunscreen out of a small tube and massaging it into her cheeks. “You know how to work the shower?”

“Yup. Spent more nights here than I’d like to admit,” you said. The girl laughs at this, patting you on the shoulder.

“Happens to the best of us. Better you’re here than with some random guy, though, right?” she says.

“Right,” you say. “Thanks.”

“Hope you can find him!” she says, and then she’s shutting the bathroom door behind her. You reach out and lock it before stripping fully, turning the faucet so that the water is as hot as you can bear and then sighing as it streams onto your face and body, rinsing off all of the proof of the previous night.

You kick your dirty clothes into a pile in the corner, wrapping a towel around your body and leaving the bathroom in a rush of steam. Your best friend is waiting in the kitchen, sipping coffee from a chipped mug, her hair in a messy bun and an untouched bowl of cereal in front of her. When she notices you, she smiles.

“Good morning,” she says. 

“Good morning,” you say, ducking into her bedroom and pulling on the clothes you’d left in her closet weeks ago for times like these. 

“How are you today?” she says.

“I’ve been better,” you say. “But I’m alive.” 

“Want breakfast?” she says.

“I might throw up if I eat,” you say.

“You’ll definitely throw up if you don’t. Just eat something light,” she says, gesturing in the direction of her pantry, as if to say take what you want.

You sit across from her, a random snack with bears on the packaging in one hand and your phone in the other. There’s a litany of unread text messages that you need to go through, so you squint your eyes against the glare of the screen and begin to read them.

Most of them are just people from the party asking you if you’re doing alright, since to their knowledge you left abruptly and without explanation. There’s one from your own roommate, asking you if you’ve watered the plants on the balcony in the past few days or not. You give one-or-two word answers to the majority, but there’s one message that catches your eye.

‘Hey, Y/N. I’m really sorry about last night — apparently that guy brought a whole cocktail of drugs with him, and that’s why he went all crazy. I hope you’re okay, and that you don’t think badly of me now.’

There’s a crying emoji followed by a praying one. It’s the guy who invited you and your best friend to the party; ordinarily, you would’ve blocked him, but now you need his help, so, with a frown, you type out your response.

‘Honestly, it was pretty scary, but luckily that other guy was there, so nothing too awful happened. Speaking of which, do you know anything about him?’

There’s a pause that you can only imagine is him typing out his response, and then your darkening phone screen lights up with a notification.

‘Kiyora? He’s on the soccer team with a couple of my other friends. He’s not really close with any of them, but he’ll show up to our parties every now and again if they let him know where the address is. He’s kind of weird, but I guess it’s a good thing he happened to be there last night.’

���Hm.’

‘His first name’s Jin, and apparently he’s addicted to grape candy — everyone makes fun of him for it. That’s about all I know.’

‘Thanks anyways.’

‘Anytime! Hope to see you at another party :)’

You consider blocking him now that you’ve gotten everything you can out of him, but there’s no point, so you just turn your phone off without responding, laying it face-down so you can ignore whoever else tries to reach out to you. Your best friend finally takes a bite of her cereal; you don’t know if she’s inspired by you or if she’s finally finished with her coffee. When you look over at her mug, you find it’s the latter.

“How much do you remember?” she asks you.

“Enough,” you say. “I’m going to find him.”

“Kiyora?” she says. When you nod, she can only pinch the bridge of her nose. “I should’ve known.”

“What do you have against him? He helped us out,” you say.

“Besides the fact that he beat that guy’s face into a pulp?” she says.

“That guy would’ve done the same to me,” you say.

“Not if you had just left when I told you to,” she reminds you. You can’t rebut this, and she knows it, because she tries her level best to avoid sounding condescending in the ensuing statement. “That’s the kind of person that you’re supposed to avoid, you know.”

“We don’t know anything about him,” you say. “We can’t judge him based on one night, especially given the circumstances.”

“That’s true,” she says. She’s like that, always quicker to give allowances than you are. You’re sure she’ll forgive him before he even realizes he’s done anything to forgive. “So, what, you just want to see what kind of person he is and go from there?”

“Basically,” you say, even though the more you mull it over, the more you’re convinced that there’s not really much that’ll change your mind. She wipes at a droplet of milk that lingers on the corner of her mouth, and then she exhales heavily.

“Yeah, alright,” she says. “I don’t think anything I say is going to stop you, so why bother?”

“You know me so well,” you say. “Want anything from the convenience store? I need to get some aspirin. My head is killing me.”

“Mine, too,” she says with a groan. “Can you get a pack for me? I think we’re out.”

“Sure,” you say, slinging your purse over your shoulder and shoving your feet in a pair of slippers. You’re pretty sure you look horrible, all lumpy and formless in an outfit that’s about two sizes too large for you, but you can’t be bothered to change, and at least you’re clean, which is more than you could say an hour ago. Waving at your best friend, you leave her apartment, careful to shut the door slowly, so as not to wake up her final roommate, who is still sleeping soundly. You envy her a bit, but then again, if you had woken up any later, you’d have had to add grogginess to your list of complaints, so maybe it’s for the best.

The convenience store is fairly empty. There’s a cashier dozing off by the checkout station, and a television showing the security footage — you stop and wave at your reflection, as you always do — but other than that, you’re the only one in the building.

As you’re browsing through the medicine section, weighing the merits of buying the generic version or if you should just get the name-brand, there is the swooshing sound of the automatic doors sliding open. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, so you pick up two boxes of the generic kind and make your way to the cashier, but then you freeze, because the figure which has slipped into the candy section is one you wouldn’t normally pay attention to but has suddenly become one you are particularly concerned with.

“Kiyora!” you hiss, ducking into the candy aisle. To your delight, he spins around at once, and he looks much the same as you remembered him from the previous night, which means it really is him. A violet mark stands out angrily against the paleness of his cheek, and his lower lip is still a bit swollen, but he wears it well, like some kind of badge of honor. 

At first, he narrows his eyes at you, but then they light up with recognition, and he smiles imperceptibly. It’s barely there, barely enough to be qualified as a smile in the first place, yet you know that that’s what it is.

“Hey,” he says. “Hangover hitting you bad?”

He’s talking about the medicine in your hands. You rub the back of your neck sheepishly.

“Pretty much,” you say. “What about you?”

“I didn’t drink last night,” he says. “It’s bad for your body, and I’m supposed to maintain mine. Top athlete and all, you know how it is.”

This is accompanied by a subtle roll of his eyes, and you snicker at his impudence.

“Naturally,” you say. “But I was referring more to, ah…that.”

You don’t really know a more graceful way to refer to it, but he seems to pick up on what you’re talking about.

“I’ve had worse,” he says. “He really was all bark and no bite. Wasn’t a big deal.”

“Still, thank you again,” you say.

“Didn’t I tell you it wasn’t for you? Don’t say thanks. It’s embarrassing,” he says.

“On my part or yours?” you say.

“Both,” he says.

“Alright, sorry,” you say. “But wait. What do you mean, you’ve had worse?”

“I dabbled in boxing for a while,” he says.

“You played two affiliated sports at once?” you say. “That’s impressive.”

“Well, one of them wasn’t affiliated,” he says, stooping over and picking up a box of grape candy — of course, he was reputedly obsessed with it, so you shouldn’t have been surprised by his presence in the convenience store at all. “I guess a better name would be street fighting. My older brother got into it after he didn’t cut it as a soccer player, and he convinced me to try it out for a bit. It was good money.”

“That’s cool,” you say, somewhat at a loss for words, finding it all too easy to imagine him in that kind of situation.

“Lame as hell, actually,” he says. “I’m better at soccer, anyways.”

He says it so nonchalantly that you have to laugh. He’s taken aback, and he doesn’t laugh along with you, but he’s clearly not upset, because that same not-smile remains on his face.

“That’s good to hear,” you say. “I don’t know if my best friend would approve of me talking to an underground street fighter.”

“You can safely tell her I’m reformed,” he says. “You’re Y/N, right?”

“You remembered?” you say.

“I told you I didn’t drink last night. Why would I forget?” he says. 

“That’s true,” you say. “Yeah. Y/N.”

“Got any reason to be talking to me against your best friend’s wishes, Y/N?” he says, walking by your side towards the cashier. The way your name sounds coming from him is different. He says it like it’s the final piece to a game that he’s been wanting to play, and you’re not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing, but if it’s the latter, then it’s too late. Somehow, he’s made it so that this game is one you want to play, too, or maybe it’s that you’re playing it already, have been playing it since before you even knew of its existence.

“I guess our ideas of what’s in my best interests just don’t align,” you say.

“Is that so? What does she believe to be in your best interests?” he says.

“Staying away from you,” you say.

“And you?” he says.

“The opposite,” you say, swiping your credit card and putting the twin boxes of medicine into the wide front pocket of your sweatshirt. He does the same, opening the box of grape candy and popping a piece into his mouth. You notice that he does not offer you one, but you weren’t hoping he would, so you’re not disappointed or anything. Just amused.

“Interesting,” he says. “What about me makes you sure that being around me is in your best interests?”

“I’m sure my chances of getting hurt will be a lot less, for one,” you say. 

“Not necessarily,” he says. “Maybe I won’t take your side one day. Maybe I’ll be the one to hurt you. Then what happens?”

“Hm,” you say. It’s such a bizarre thing to say to someone who you’ve only met one-and-a-half times — the meeting last night only counts for half, considering how out of your mind you were — but he does it with a straight face, like it’s a serious dilemma. “I don’t think you’d do that.”

“You don’t?” he says.

“Nah,” you say. “I’d never provoke you into fighting me.”

“How can you be sure of that?” he says. You tear open the aspirin’s cardboard packaging, swallowing the pill dry and praying it works quickly. It catches in your throat, so you swallow again in an attempt to dislodge it. Kiyora watches you, and once you are successful in the endeavor, he silently hands you a piece of grape candy.

“People tell me I’m easy to get along with,” you say. The candy is sour and sparkles in your mouth; you do your best to savor the taste, but it’s gone as soon as you’re aware of it, melting away into air on your tongue.

“That guy from last night didn’t seem to think so,” he points out.

“He was mad that I asked if his watch was real. Normal people wouldn’t care about that,” you say. “I doubt you would.”

“I guess I wouldn’t,” he says. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you say, though you don’t quite know what you’re agreeing to. He gives you another piece of candy, and then he actually smiles; the tip of his tongue is purple, too, just like that bruise of his. You wonder if yours will turn the same shade, and then you accept the candy regardless. It’s kind of delightful, the thought of matching with him in that secret way.

“You’re kind of funny, Y/N,” he says. 

“I do my best,” you say. “You’re not bad yourself.”

“You’re probably the only person who thinks that,” he says.

“Then maybe the others are missing out,” you say. He glances at the ground, but you think he seems happy, not upset.

“Maybe,” he says.

“Anyways, I should probably get back,” you say, because you’ve reached the intersection where you have to turn right, and it seems he has every intention of going straight. “But I can see you again, right?”

He cocks his head at you, and then, magically, he produces a pen from the pocket of his sweatpants, which are of that infuriating depth that supposedly only men deserve. Scribbling something on the box of grape candy, he presses it in your hand.

“Later,” he says, because the light has changed and he has to cross the street now. You watch him go, and then you peer at the small box. His handwriting is cramped and spiky, but you can make it out without too much trouble.

The box is empty, devoid of anything sweet, but he’s given you a much greater treasure, so you hold it close to your heart as you scurry to your best friend’s apartment, trying to fight back the grin that threatens to split your face the entire way back.

“So, let me get this straight — he gave you his phone number?” your best friend says. She had showered in the time you spent at the convenience store, and now that she has an aspirin in her system and moisturizer on her face, she looks like an entirely different person, a brighter and more cheerful one who isn’t going to judge you for whatever you say next.

“Yes,” you say, incredibly focused on creating a new contact for Kiyora. “That’s a good sign, right?”

“Depends on who you’re asking,” she says. 

“Me,” you say.

“Then yeah, I’d say so,” she says. “He’s obviously into you.”

“I hope so,” you say.

“Who wouldn’t be?” she says. “You know what this means, right? It’s time for us to do reconnaissance.”

You grin, because you know exactly what that means. She pulls out her tablet and opens it to a random social media site, and so begins your investigation into the enigma that is Jin Kiyora.

“What the fuck?” you say. The two of you have been working for longer than you’d like to admit, yet you’ve learned frighteningly little about him. He plays soccer, and he seems to be quite good at it, given the few blurry highlights you managed to dredge up from his high school days. He has two brothers, both of whom post a ton but never about him. He once made the news in his hometown for breaking the mayor’s son’s nose — your best friend clicks her tongue at that, but you are sure he had a reason for doing it, so you remain unfazed. Otherwise, though, there’s nothing. He’s inactive on social media, which makes you doubly glad that you ran into him earlier, and if he has friends, then none of them seem to want to make that information public.

“It’s like he doesn’t exist,” your best friend says. “Honestly, I kind of fuck with it.”

“That’s a change of tune,” you say. She hums, typing something into her tablet and then shaking her head when the search results come up empty.

“Well, you know. It’s always nice when a man isn’t active online. Although, then again, in this case it could be because he doesn’t want a digital footprint that incriminates him or something,” she says.

“He’s not a criminal,” you say. She taps her finger against the article about him breaking the mayor’s son’s nose, and you cringe. “Okay, but he wasn’t arrested for that, so I’m technically still right.”

“Uh, sure, but this is the second account we have of him getting in a fight. Who knows? Maybe it’s like a hobby for him,” she says. At that moment, you decide to omit the fact that it actually was a hobby for him until an indeterminate amount of time ago. 

“We don’t know why he did it,” you say. “Maybe the mayor’s kid was a bully. The guy last night definitely was. Come on, you can’t say you’re not at least a little grateful to him for stepping in and sticking up for us.”

He has insisted twice now that he didn’t do it for you, but you’ll take anything that endears him to your best friend, so you don’t mention that, either.

“That whole situation was terrifying,” she says, hugging herself tightly. “For one, it was scary that that guy flipped out on you, but it’s not like seeing Kiyora beat him up was particularly soothing.”

“You’re nicer than me by far,” you say, for probably the thousandth time. “I found it pretty gratifying to watch. I mean, he had no trouble threatening us; why shouldn’t he have had to back up his words with action? Obviously, he wasn’t expecting us to be able to fight back, so he ran his mouth to his heart’s content, but he had the misfortune of doing it in front of the wrong person, and he got what was coming for him. That’s his fault. So, in a sense, what Kiyora did was just a form of justice.”

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it,” she says. “I still kinda feel bad for the other guy, considering he definitely wasn’t in his senses, and after all Kiyora did punch him first, but it was a tense atmosphere. Who knows how another person might’ve reacted? It’s wrong to judge when things were so precarious and prone to snapping at any second. Of course, what he did wasn’t perfect, but you can’t really expect perfection from anyone, can you?”

Again, she’s better than you. You don’t know if you will ever feel bad for the man from last night, or if you could ever forgive someone as quickly as she has forgiven Kiyora. But if you count all of the times she’s proven to be the gentler of you two, it’ll take you ages, so you just add this occasion to the list and internally celebrate your good fortune.

“I’m going to text him,” you say, showing her your phone screen.

“What are you going to say?” she says.

“I don’t know,” you say. “Maybe hi, to start?”

“Make sure you add your name, since he doesn’t have your number,” she says.

“Oh, good idea,” you say, typing out your initial message and handing it to her so she can proofread it. She nods, and you hit send, a pit forming in your stomach as you wait for a text back.

‘Hi! This is Y/N from earlier!’

It’s almost immediate, his response, and you high-five your best friend when your phone vibrates, deciding to forget the whole play-it-cool advice that’s so predominant online and opening it immediately.

‘Hi Y/N.’

A second later, there’s another buzz, and another text. You laugh when you see it, because it’s very tongue-in-cheek and already, you can imagine the kind of expression that he’s wearing as he’s typing, although you hardly know him.

‘This is Kiyora btw.’

“He’s not afraid to joke around,” your best friend says, reading over your shoulder. “That’s a good sign. Imagine he was super dry and boring over text. You’d have to ghost him.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “What should I say now?”

Before she can respond, he’s sent another text. This earns a round of applause and a whoop from her, albeit a quiet one, since the roommate you went out with last night is somehow still asleep.

“Triple text!” she says. “This is great! Ah, I mean. It’s great if you still want him.”

“Of course I do,” you say, heat rising in your face as you realize what’s he’s just asked you.

‘So. Are you free next Saturday?’

The restaurant Kiyora tells you to meet him at is the opposite of fancy. You almost mistake it for a gas station, because it’s right next to one and located at random on the side of the road, but luckily you stop the car in time and manage to pull into the parking lot. You’re a little overdressed, but at least you’ll make a good impression, or so you hope, because the last few times you’ve seen him haven’t exactly shown off your greatest assets.

He’s already inside, though he hasn’t sat at a table yet and you’re ten minutes early. The place is almost empty save for him and a few employees, and the lights are a harsh, fluorescent white that throws his features into greater relief, but the effect’s a little angelic. A bell chimes to announce your entrance, and he glances over his shoulder, his furrowed brow relaxing when he sees that it’s you.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you say. A cheesy ballad from either the late 80s or the early 90s plays from the radio at the counter, and a ceiling fan whirs in the background, but it’s otherwise pretty quiet.

“It’s my uncle’s place,” he says, leading you to a table without waiting for the hostess — a girl of probably about sixteen or seventeen, who’s playing on her phone and doesn’t look up at either of you — to do anything. “Got him to close early for the night so it’s just us.”

“Oh, wow,” you say. “Thank you. That’s actually really sweet.”

He hands you a menu. “I don’t like being around that many people. It’s a little claustrophobic.”

“I get it,” you say. “I think every time I’ve ended up in a big crowd, it’s ended kinda badly for me, so it’s nice to not have to worry about that.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he says. For a moment, neither of you say anything, though probably for different reasons — he’s busy reading a menu, and you’re trying to think of a way to bring up his past grievances, especially the ones of the punching-a-mayor’s-son variety, without sounding like a stalker.

“What made you quit street fighting?” you say.

“Do you want appetizers?” he says, at exactly the same time. Then he pauses, your question registering. “Oh.”

“Appetizers are good,” you say.

“It was just too much,” he says. “I don’t know. I never liked it. I only stayed because I got paid well, but it became more trouble than it was worth.”

“What’s that mean?” you say. He’s obviously a bit uncomfortable with the line of questioning, squirming in his seat, but your best friend is right. That’s the kind of thing you should probably know about him before you let yourself get any deeper.

“The mayor’s jackass son started showing up, placing bets and all. He was a real dick,” he begins. You’re surprised that you’ve ended up at your end goal already; you were sure it’d take a bit more prodding until you reached the heart of the story, but it seems you’ve chanced upon it without even trying. He rolls his eyes and scoffs as he continues. “One time he asked if he could try fighting himself. Picked me as his opponent because I was the shortest and, therefore, the weakest. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” you say, though not without a snicker, because from what you know of him, you doubt he could be considered the weakest in any company. “Then what?”

“Then I did the world a favor and broke his ugly fucking nose so he had an excuse to fix it, that’s what,” he says. “His dad wasn’t too happy.”

“That’s to be expected,” you say.

“Yup. After that, he told me I had to get my act together or there would be real disciplinary consequences, so I gave it up and focused everything I had on soccer instead,” he says. 

“I’m glad,” you say.

“Are you?” he says.

“You probably don’t get hurt quite as much playing soccer,” you say. “Even though it’s possible to get injured, it’s not as common.”

“True,” he says. “Most players are just faking it, anyways, so it’s definitely not common in the slightest.”

“Well, that’s all. I think it’s better that you don’t get hurt,” you say. “I don’t want you to. So stick with soccer.”

His lips form a thin, hard line, but there are dimples in his cheeks that make it obvious what he’s trying to suppress. Clearing his throat, he reopens his menu and points at one of the appetizers.

“Is this one alright with you?” he asks.

You’re looking at him when you answer, not the menu. Whatever it is, you’ll eat it, or if it’s really horrible, you’ll leave it for him. You’d rather spend that precious second admiring his features when he’s unaware of your gaze. “Yeah, it’s alright.”

His eyes flick up to meet your own, and then, impossibly, a pale pink blush dusts across his nose and cheeks.

“I’ll tell my uncle that that’s what we want, then,” he says, standing up and darting off towards the kitchens without another word. He walks with a kind of intrinsic rhythm, like he’s dancing, though there’s nothing about his gait otherwise that suggests any sort of musicality. It’s fascinating. He’s fascinating. 

You are certain, before he even returns, before you even eat, before you even part ways, that this will not be the last time you see him. At least you pray it won’t be, because you think you’re like a moth, and he’s like a flame, and there’s enough stories about moths and flames that you know how these things typically end, or at least you’re pretty sure you do. It doesn’t matter, though. None of it matters, because you’ve never been so utterly taken by anything the way you are with Jin Kiyora and his bruised face and his split knuckles and his grape-colored tongue.

There’s another thing you’re certain of now, or have been for a while: you don’t love him yet, of course you don’t, but you will. Inescapably, inevitably, you will.

[hwanchaesong]

☞🍹First Drink: He has lost himself in the sea of vodka and rum, so, why don't you do him the honor of bringing him back down here on earth. 🍸

🎧: The Weeknd - Alone Again

wc: 738

genre & warnings: angst (heavy lmao), fluff, comfort, mentions of being high and drunk, cursing, pet name, Mark is a celebrity but not an idol & reader is a normal college student etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The After Hours Bar series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

The loud bang of the door being harshly opened and shut jolted you awake, panicking for a second before you recognized the slurring voice of your fiancé.

You hurriedly went downstairs, worried for his well-being. It's unusual for him to come home drunk or high and cause a ruckus, and if it does happen, that means that something is bothering him.

"Mark?" you called, then you followed his humming, leading you to the kitchen, and there you saw his collapsed body on the floor.

Cautiously walking up to him, your hands went to his shoulders, and that seemed to wake him up from his misplaced slumber.

"Baby!" he mused, pulling you out of the blue, and that left you no choice but to stumble with him onto the tiled floors of your kitchen, "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Mark." you plopped yourself up using your elbows, landing a palm over his chest that was heaving up and down steadily, "Is everything okay?"

His eyes shot wide open, gaze focused on you and it made you squirm, uneasy at his piercing glassy orbs.

"I'm tired of this bullshit." he mutters, devoid of emotion and you know that this is one of the nights where he's losing himself.

"Hm? Tell me more." you mumble, sitting up and gently cradling his head, putting it on your lap so he could be more comfortable.

He sighs in content, his mouth opening to speak whilst you tread your fingers in his inky hair soothingly.

"I am tired of people telling me what to do, how to act. It's like I'm only breathing for their satisfaction. I can't live with this fake life anymore."

He rambles and you listen, your heart aching at his hardships.

You will never fully understand the difficulties of being in the spotlight, as your life is as mundane as it could be.

You are a simple university student, studying hard to get your dream job that will pay for your expenses, born in an ordinary family and living in a medium-sized apartment.

He on the other hand is a famous guitarist and singer in a world-class boy band. He stands on top of luxury and stardom, and the pressure and expectations bring nothing but insanity.

That is where you come in, the normalcy in his hectic celebrity life, the main reason why Mark loves you so much.

You complete him in ways that no one else can. With you, he can say his inner, darkest thoughts and emotions without any doubts because he is secure in your presence.

Your hands went to his cheeks, massaging it tenderly before pinching it, making him whine in slight pain.

"Then rest here, breathe here, and live an honest life here with me." you say, and that's the only thing you can offer because there is no way you'd tell him to stop what he's doing.

Mark loves his job, you are well aware of that, so to give him advice about it is a big no no. That would be disrespectful for him and his ambitions.

This is the best option, to give him solace and joy when he needs it the most.

"I told you before, right?" you continue your mini speech of motivation for your beloved, "I am always here to support you. To make you feel safe. I am here to charge your battery when it's empty. After that, I'll let you go and have the time of your life performing."

"And if I get tired again?" he asks, his hands flying to wrap around your own.

"Then the cycle restarts. Come back home to me and I'll give you energy." you answered confidently, intertwining your fingers with his and resting it on his separate shoulders.

Appreciation fills Mark's heart, he would be lost if it's not for you.

"How will you do that?" he mused, thumbs rubbing over your knuckles.

You smile lovingly, leaning down and pressing a passionate yet soft kiss on his lips.

Beyond perfect, love personified is in the shape of you, and Mark wouldn't have it any other way.

You remind him of who he truly is, ground him back on earth when his mind flies a little bit too high, you heal his wounded heart and soul.

In this journey that he took, there would be times where he'll be left alone, but with you by his side, he's never lonely.

taglist:

@sunghoonsgfreal @yeosayang @shakalakaboomboo @mystverse