#this is soft and love and tiny smut

[foreverdolly]

ೃ࿔ SAVAGE BONDS part 2 『 feyd rautha x atreides!reader 』

summary: destined to one another since conception, your very life belongs to feyd rautha. as a token of good will you are sent to the strange planet of giedi prime a week before your wedding ceremony, only to learn that it is far more hostile than you imagined it would be. a failed assassination attempt has tempers flaring and sparks flying when it is decided to be safer to sleep alongside feyd. you hate to admit it, but he has played the part of a "protector" better than the guards who were tasked to watch over you. whilst you have been dreading this union all of your life, feyd has been anticipating it. meeting you as children had left him awe-struck. . . and a bit obsessed.

warnings: !SMUT HEAVY IN FUTURE PARTS!, feyd is super overprotective in this fic and kills multiple people in your honor, blood and gore, it's a dark romance folks, political marriage, forced proximity, temporary unrequited love, a lil dubious consent in some scenes, there's a lot of talk about breeding, enemies to lovers (in your mind, not his), there's a "who did this to you" scene, knife play, blood kink, breeding kink heavy, lots of scent marking/marking.

word count: 4.5k

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Legs tangled in gray sheets. The lightning-quick flash of a silver dagger, held by a pale hand.

The images in the dream are more like fragments- impossible to discern and decipher. On the bed, asleep and vulnerable. . .

There’s you.

And then Feyd wakes up, heart hammering in his chest so hard he can feel it in his throat. Slowly his fingers crawl up, up, up the expanse of the bed in search of something. In search of warmth, of you. Nothing. He’s just as alone in his room as he was when he drifted off into sleep. He lays awake the rest of the night, tossing and turning with worry.

This dream felt more like a warning than just another disjointed nightmare. It felt real. He was used to having dreams every now and again which clearly depicted a future outcome. He saw you in his dreams quite often, more so once he was no longer a boy-child.

If someone thought to hurt you… he’d just have to hurt them first.

The customs you and your people practiced were completely different to those that were normal on Geidi Prime. You watched one of your ladies-in-waiting as she brought over another small bowl of sweet smelling bath salts, dumping it in and using her hand to properly dissolve them. For a moment you felt self conscious, running your fingers through your hair as you looked at their perfect complexions and shaved heads. What did they see when they looked at you? Someone beautiful and strange. . . or an alien?

Still, you would eventually have to disrobe and bathe. Pressing your luck and refusing their help would only solidify your place as an outsider. You were sure that whispers of your arrival were already spreading like wildfire, and it was almost guaranteed that no one was happy about it. An Atreides amongst Harkonnen’s? You were nothing more than a pariah on their industrial wasteland of a planet.

The air was even more acrid in your lungs than it had been the night before, and while the smell of the rose body oils and salts were thick and hazy in your room, you could still catch the scent of pollution. Already you missed the cool, crisp air of Caladan. You missed your horses, your parents and your brother to the point of pain. This was not where you belonged. Not here in Geidi Prime. Not here with Feyd-Rautha.

The urge to cry yourself hoarse was practically undeniable, and yet you somehow managed to resist. You were late to breakfast already, and surely the Baron was making some unsavory comments about your family and their taught “manners”. So you untied the front of your nightdress and shimmied out of it, letting the soft cotton pool at the ground beneath your feet. The women couldn’t help but gawk at the tiny imperfections they saw there- a beauty mark you’d had since you were a child, a scar you’d received while training with Gurney. You weren’t used to feeling so self conscious, and so you were quick to grab one of the women’s extended hands so that you could sit down in the murky bath water.

They rubbed floral smelling soaps into your hair and on your skin, making sure to handle you as though you were as fragile as porcelain. You wished they would scrub you raw. Even then they wouldn’t be able to cleanse you of your fears. You were in the hands of the Harkonnen’s now.

No one could save you.

“We are not very used to styling hair, my lady. It might not be to your liking.” One of the women said anxiously. The way that her hands shook as she gripped the hairbrush was not lost on you.

How cruelly were they treated here? Or even worse- what did she think of the Atreides family? What lies had they poisoned these people’s impressionable minds with? You didn’t care to dwell too much on such thoughts. Reaching out you gently removed the brush from her hands, flashing her the kindest smile you could muster before shaking your head.

“Leave this to me then. Why don’t you pick something for me to wear from my things?” Your bags were still packed, lying exactly where a few servants had laid them last night. You had denied every offer to have them unpacked for you.

Denial. You refused to believe that you were actually stuck here. This would never be your home. It couldn’t be.

“He’s not here,” Feyd was sitting at a long, slate-gray table by himself. The food on his plate had barely been touched, but he had busied himself with chopping the meat up into miniscule pieces, too small to even fit on the prongs of his fork. “If you were planning on trying to make a good impression, you can forget about it. He always has his food sent to his quarters.”

You thanked the two ladies that had shown you through the colorless halls under your breath, moving to sit on the other side of the table. At least eight chairs separated you from the Na-baron and it still wasn’t enough. You wished you were on an entirely different planet, lightyears away from the Harkonnen scum.

The room was practically empty aside from the large dining room table. No art decorated the walls or rugs to cover the floor. It was all cold, black marble with white accents.

“I don’t care, actually.” And you were being truthful. You didn’t care about getting on the Baron’s good side any more than you cared about getting on Feyd’s.

He smiled then, staring at you long and hard before licking one of his black painted canines. He was amused by the blase way you brushed off his uncle so easily. Indifference wasn’t something he was used to, especially not when everyone in the galaxy had tried so hard to get on their good sides. People tended to tread lightly as far as the Harkonnens were concerned. They were as wealthy as they were cunning.

“Be careful, little Atreides. Saying things like that might get you hurt around here.” His gruff voice was but a whisper now, and suddenly you felt as though there weren’t twelve feet of dead-air separating the two of you.

You had picked up your fork, ready to eat whatever bland food had been prepared for you, but froze at his words. Heat rose to your cheeks and you were quick to lean back in the ornate high-backed chair, the cool iron seeping into your back through your clothes.

“Do you mean to threaten me?” Your words were icy, tongue sharp and ready to give him a proper lashing.

“It’s not a threat, darling.” He was practically purring, reveling in the joy of referring to you whilst using a pet name. It suddenly looked as though a switch had been turned on, his eyes narrowing on you. “I know him far better than you do. He’s killed people for far less. Be careful.” There seemed to be something he wasn’t telling you. There was genuine warning in his tone.

A pause.

“Please.” And then he went back to eating.

So were you supposed to act gutted at his uncle’s absence? You picked up the fork and took a bite of whatever had been put on your plate. It wasn’t at all what you were used to. Even the food tasted. . . fake. The meat tasted like it had been pumped full of chemicals and was mealy in your mouth, like sand. Still, you swallowed despite your distaste and shoved the plate away from you.

“Who have you assigned to be my sparring partner? I’m sure that my father made your uncle aware that I train daily, correct?” If you didn’t physically exert yourself and blow off some steam then you were bound to get no sleep tonight.

Last night you had tossed and turned, unable to stay asleep when your body was constantly alerting you to possible dangers. Even now you were on high alert, eyes locked on the knife that sat on the right side of Feyd’s plate. Your own fingers danced towards yours it you watched. Waited. Worried.

“Training?” He tilted his head again, eyes narrowed in disbelief. You could almost see the cogs turning as he mulled over your words. “What good would training do you now? If there are any threats then I am here to protect you- that’s my duty as your husband.”

Ah, yes. Why would a woman train when she could just sit back and play the part of a perfect little wife instead? You could spit.

“Would you rather I just hunt down one of your servants and kill him for sport?” You hated that he was so good at getting a reaction out of you. Maybe you were acting too much like a brat, but you wanted to see him squirm. Seeing him mad must be better than seeing him. . . like this.

For a second he sat there, arms perched nonchalantly over the armrests of his chair, staring at you with a crooked smile. You jumped in surprise when a chuckle escaped him, the act itself so out of place, so surprising that all you could do was stare in horror. The chuckles soon morphed into frenzied laughter, and he was quick to lean back in his seat so that he could place a hand on his chest.

“Was that funny to you?” You spoke through gritted teeth.

He watched the muscle in your jaw clench and unclench with wild eyes, sucking in a deep breath in the hopes of calming himself. Still, to hear such a beautiful woman speak such hideous words. . . it was wonderful, bordering on perverted.

“If you do kill a servant, please make sure I’m there to watch.”

He was too busy watching your face to notice the knife that you slid into the sleeve of your dress. With a huff you stood up, your skirts dryly brushing along the ground as you started to make your way out of the large room.

“I require a trainer.” You tried to mimic your mother’s tone, straightening your shoulders as you turned to look at him.

Lady Jessica always had a way of commanding a room. She was powerful, your mother. You needed to channel that same power now.

“You’ll train with me then,” He stood up from the table, the height and build of him alone nearly causing you to take a step back. You’d forgotten how large he was. How formidable. “Consider it a wedding gift.”

This had you balking, mouth opening and closing as you tried to think of some way to refuse. He was already stalking past you though, ignoring whatever retorts you were bound to make.

“I recommend getting changed. . . Unless you want me to tear that dress to shreds.”

That awful, ugly, no good- 

“Bastard!” You whispered under your breath, wadding up your dress just to angrily toss it onto your bed. 

You sank to your knees, braiding your fingers into your hair so that you could give it a few good yanks. He was doing this to fuck with your head. All of this was calculated on his part, it had to be. Was it all just to get a rise out of you? Or did he truly want to try and hurt you? You couldn’t figure him out, and that boiled your blood. All Harkonnens were cunning, blood thirsty schemers. You wouldn’t put it past him to be unhappy with the marriage arrangement, choosing to resort to violence in order to end things. 

‘Now. Now is the time to strike.’ 

You’d already hidden the blade under the mattress of the bed. The Baron wouldn’t allow you to live if you killed his precious nephew, but you’d much rather put up some sort of a fight than be put down like a dog. After taking a few steadying breaths you somehow managed to pull on your trousers and shirt, your mind plagued with dangerous, dangerous thoughts. If the moment called for it you were certain that you could not kill Feyd in hand to hand combat. His skills with a blade was well known across the galaxy, and while you were more than able to defend yourself, you weren’t delusional enough to think that you could manage to beat him without using underhanded tactics. 

You’d have to wait until his guard was lowered. 

“Do all women take this long to get ready?” 

You hadn’t heard the door open, nor his footsteps approaching. Who knew how long he had been watching you. The intrusion was an unwelcome one. You looked up to glare at him, trying hard not to balk at his appearance. The clothes he wore were skin tight, a black material that caught the dim lighting- like it was made of pitch black oil. His pants were tucked into big black boots, laced up high on his calf. 

He stretched his arms up, leaning against the doorframe so that he could continue his awkward staring. 

He did a lot of that it would seem. Any time you turned your head to face him you found that he was already looking in your direction. It was odd. . . off putting to say the least. Of course you couldn’t know that he was currently tracing the lines of your face with his eyes, committing every detail to memory. You were so different when he compared you to the females that he was used to seeing. You were all soft lines, long lashes and doe eyes. He found it impossible not to look at you. Gorgeous… you were gorgeous. 

“It took me a while to get out of my dress on my own.”You shoved your way past him in the doorway, his chest warm under your palms. 

You were quick to jerk away, startled by the fact that this was the first time that you’d touched him since the two of you had reunited. 

You didn’t hate the feel of him, but you should have. 

“Then you should have asked for some help.” He said, reaching out to grab you by the back of your shirt when you started to walk off in the wrong direction. 

Feyd pulled you along like he would a pet on a leash through the triangular halls, ignoring your mumbled curses as you tried swatting him away. 

The shield vibrated in your ears as you switched on the button, enveloping you in its warmth. 

You used to find it uncomfortable as a child, the tight, foreign warmth triggering a mild case of claustrophobia. You were used to it now, wearing it like a second skin. You waited for Feyd to turn his on as well, the blade clutched tight in your palm. 

You waited. And waited. And waited. 

“Where’s your shield?” You asked him, motioning towards his hip with your free hand. 

There it was, that crooked smile again. He was laughing at you. Was he trying to infer that you were weak? Was he so confident in his skills that he didn’t even see you as a threat?  

“I don’t see the nee-” He didn’t get very far. 

You kicked your leg out, catching the back of his right knee. His legs buckled, and he was quick to adjust himself, his left arm flying up to catch your wrist before you could sink the blade home. For a split second the two of you just stared at each other. Mild shock in his eyes, your own alight with an anger so consuming that you feared you might be burnt up with it. He gave your arm a sharp tug, hard enough that the joint rolled uncomfortably in its socket. 

You kicked your leg out before he could throw you over his shoulder, landing a sharp blow to his ribs. You heard him let out a pained moan before you hit the ground. Using your weight to your advantage, you tucked your body in, rolling to the side so that you could easily stand up to your knees, blade poised at your side and ready for an attack. 

“You fight well, Atreides.” Feyd purred, spinning his blade between two fingers before letting it fall back into his pale palm. 

“Turn on your shield.” You growled, rising to your full height so that you could begin circling him, a panther ready to pounce. 

“Was it Duke Leto that trained you?” Still, he was ignoring your statement. 

“No.” 

“No, of course it wasn’t him,” He took a step closer to you, eyeing you down. No one had looked at you like that before. . . and it made your skin crawl. You didn’t want to be desired by this man, the thought alone was miserable enough to have bile rising in your throat. “Your father is too weak-spirited to ever train you himself, lest he accidentally harm you.” 

Your heart was beginning to pound in your ears now, vision tunneling. All you could see was Feyd. All you could imagine was the blade that you were currently white-knuckling sunk hilt deep into his chest. 

“How horrible it must be for Caladan to have a Duke so. . .  spineless.” 

You bared your teeth, and for a second you were sure that you would snap the hilt in half with how hard you were gripping your blade. You demanded blood for such an insult. How dare he. How dare he. 

“I should cut out your tongue!” You screamed, pointed the blade at him. 

‘Don’t come any closer’ you urged with your eyes, feeling the angry tears causing your vision to fog. A Harkonnen was insulting your father. He was insulting your family and now he was smiling at you. The bastard had the gall to smile and this time all of his teeth were showing. Wide, unabashed in his joy. He was terrifying. So much so that you felt your legs begin to shake underneath you. 

“But you’ll want to put this tongue to good use eventually.” His gravelly voice purred. 

“Silence!” And before you could even control yourself you were using the Voice. 

You might not be as talented as your brother when it came to hand to hand combat, but your mother had taken the time to teach you well. Feyd’s mouth snapped shut so hard that you heard his teeth clatter together. 

“One more word and I will gut you.” Your voice shook and before you could rethink your actions you were lunging forward, the blade cutting through the air. . . 

Aimed at his throat. 

He was quick to push your arm away with his forearm, and even with the shield up you could feel the bone shattering pressure he put behind the movement. He was stronger than Paul- stronger than even Gurney. He took advantage of the fact that you were put off balance and grabbed a fist full of hair, the shield around you flashing red as he pressed his blade as close as he could to the base of your throat. Your scalp exploded in pain, eyes watering as he gripped harder to yank your head back so that you were staring directly into his eyes. They held no malice towards you, even despite the fact that you were obviously trying to maim him. 

And then he leaned in closer. And closer.

“If I didn’t know any better then I would think that you were actually trying to kill me.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. You could practically feel the warmth of his lips against your skin as he spoke, your heart roaring in your ribcage. With your chests practically touching like this you could smell him.

 You’d only caught the scent of spice once in your life- and it was akin to bitter cinnamon. There was something else though, something more complex to it. Aromatic spices you couldn’t quite put your fingers on and. .  . the natural musk of his skin. 

“So you can speak again?” You managed to tease him through your pain, wincing as he brought you even closer against his chest. The blade that you clutched in your hand was now pressing against his side, the pointed edge digging into his skin. 

He didn’t wince, even when you put more pressure against it. 

“You think it wise to use the Voice on me in my own home, little girl?” He hissed as he pulled away from your ear, and the fire that was in your eyes was now mirrored in his own. 

Slowly you moved the blade away from him, the metallic clanging echoing around the room as you let it fall to the floor. Your palm hurt from the vice-like grip you had been holding it in. 

“Release me now.” You didn’t shy away from staring into his eyes, unwavering even when he pressed the blade even tighter, the shield vibrating louder and louder around you. 

He leaned in, even when your hands moved to press against his chest, willing him to give you space. You could barely breathe with him this close to you. His own knife clattered to the ground, and using his free hand he ripped the shield from off of your hip. The gasp that escaped your lips was uncontrollable. You could feel his breath on your lips as his eyes continued to swallow you up whole. 

They looked even bluer when you were up close like this, framed by long black lashes. For a split second you wondered what had become of that beautiful little boy you had met. Had Baron Vladmir beaten the beauty out of him? Or perhaps it had never truly been there to begin with. 

When Feyd looked at you, up close like this, all he saw was the object of his ever-present affections. Something yawned to life in his chest- the need to protect. All at once he felt wrong, disgusting and horrible for causing you any sort of pain. 

But you looked so lovely with those tears in your eyes. So much so that he gave your hair another small yank, a shuddered breath escaping his lips as you yelped in pain. He saw the hate in your eyes and he detested it. 

‘Fear me’ he silently urged. ‘Love me, do as I say and I will become your slave.’ 

His lips brushed against yours, achingly slow- painfully soft. 

“I yield.” You were quick to say, pulling as far back as you could even with the grip he had on your hair. 

Fire. Your scalp felt like it was on fire. 

And then he released you, taking a step back with a heaving chest. The spell now broken, it felt like the world around you suddenly resumed its orbit. Wordlessly he pressed a hand to his side- the side that you had pressed the knife- and when he pulled it away you could see that it was stained with blood. 

“Didn’t you say that you were going to gut me?” There was no hint of humor in his voice now. 

“I wanted to.” You conceded. 

“Then you should have tried harder.”

Again you lay in bed awake, unable to fall asleep. You told yourself that it was just homesickness that had you clinging to the blankets, but you knew better. What had happened today left you rattled and confused. 

There were a hundred times today that Feyd could have killed you. Everything that Gurney had ever taught you had disappeared like smoke in the wind the second that your father was mentioned. You had acted on instinct alone. 

And if it was an actual fight to the death then you would have lost. Miserably. 

There was something strange about it though. It never once felt like an actual training session. He taught you nothing and gave you no feedback. Not only that but. . . it never felt like he actually wanted to damage your pride. He didn’t turn on his shield before and after taunting you, almost as though he actually wanted one of your attacks to land. 

He had allowed you to get everything out of your system. You hated that it had worked. It wasn’t helping you to sleep tonight though. No, you had other things on your mind now. 

Like the fact that he had almost kissed you. 

Your knowledge was limited where men were concerned, but you were nearly positive that there was something sexual about the way that he had treated you. It was like he didn’t want to actually hurt you, but still went out of his way to touch you. 

You’d be sure to ask for someone that might be willing to train you again tomorrow over breakfast. Someone who wasn’t Feyd, preferably. Lunch and dinner had been spent in silence on your part tonight. He had tried to strike up conversation a few times, even baiting you in ways that might warrant annoyance and anger. You didn’t budge. Why? Because you hated how nervous you felt in his presence now. 

Was it because you were afraid of him? That had to be it. Hearing about his proficiency in fighting and seeing it first hand were two different things. He had practically swung you around like a ragdoll. It was absolutely humiliating. 

Yes, that had to be it. . . well, you hoped. 

“Atreides.” 

The sound of your name had you bolting up into a sitting position, willing your eyes to adjust to the non-existent lighting in the room. The sound of footsteps had your heart jumping up into your throat, adrenaline flooding your system once you realized that it wasn’t a voice that you recognized. 

No one had entered the room since you’d gotten back from dinner, which meant. . . 

Whoever this was had been hiding, waiting until you completely lowered your guard. You were in danger. Horrible, horrible danger. 

‘Be careful. Please.’ You remembered Feyd’s words from earlier. 

He had been trying to warn you.

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ೃ࿔ savage bonds taglist:

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the wonderful line “fear me, love me. do as i say and i will become your slave” is from the movie “the labyrinth”!

[riseatlantisss]

Careful, he bites

Pairing : Astarion x female!reader around 900 words.

morning sex. in bed. with the most amazing vampire. that’s it that’s the plot ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW : 18+, shameless smut, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, tiny bit of fang kink

I love him a completely normal amount

You open your eyes slowly, savouring the blissful, heavy fog of sleep that still weighs on your mind. The voice that greets you is one you’re sure you’ll never tire of.

“Good morning, my sweet”, Astarion whispers against your ear. The bed smells of night-blooming flowers and cold winter air, just like him. His body is a comforting spoon, the nice coolness of his powerful chest sends shivers down your spine.

Your eyelids are still heavy and with a smile, you settle back in and bury your head in your soft pillow, eager for just a few more hours of precious sleep before starting a new day in the underdark.

Astarion, of course, has other ideas. He exhales and you can feel the light puff of cold air against the back of your neck. Icy fingers skate down your bare arm, dragging the strap of your night gown with them. He dips his head and nuzzles the junction of your neck and shoulder. He toys with the hem of your night gown before slipping beneath it to caress the curve of your hip. You revel in his low groan of appreciation as he discovers you’re wearing nothing underneath.

“Gods, the things you do to me,” he growls, voice muffled slightly as he breathes your scent. “Let me take care of you.”

Wordlessly, you nod and he wastes no time. He gives you a sloppy, hungry kiss that is all tongues, teeth and fangs, and then slowly lowers himself. His fangs leave burning trails across your skin, and you love every bit of it.

You can feel his erection grow next to your thigh and you raise a hand forward to touch him but he grabs your wrist and stops the motion. 

“No, darling,” he grins, “it is all about you today.”

“But –” your attempt to argue is cut short as Astarion disappears between your thighs, wraps his wet lips around your clit and starts sucking. You let out an unbelievably loud whimper of pleasure and he smirks against your body.

Pinning your thighs apart, he works his tongue in an up-and-down motion on one side of your clit and then the other. You grind into his mouth shamelessly as his tongue continues working its magic. Without interruption, he slips first one finger, then two inside you, and pushes them up against your G-spot. You’re already starting to see stars as you feel his fangs settle in the soft mound of flesh above your clit. He applies just enough pressure for it to deliciously sting without ever hurting. Those tiny pinpricks combined with the sucking of your clit and the impossible rhythm of his fingers inside you made you cry out.

“Astarion – I’m– “ you try to articulate between two heavy breaths.  

“I’m right there with you, my love,” he mutters and presses his fangs slightly deeper into your skin, as to urge you to stop fighting the wave of pleasure trying to make its way through your shivering body.  

His tongue slips across that one spot on the tip of your clit that always sets you off, and suddenly you are coming on his mouth, grasping fistfuls of his silver hair and moaning and moaning and moaning. He pushes his fangs deeper and deeper into your skin as he rides out your orgasm with you, using his free hand to hold your hips steady. Your core spasms longer than a pulsing heart, each beat making you thrash helplessly on the bed as he pushes his fingers deep. ​​He waits until you come down from your high before slowly sliding his two fingers out of you and into his mouth to lick them clean. The rest of the world begins to come back into focus but you do not care for it. You only have eyes for him.  

​​"You are absolutely exquisite when you come," he chuckles in that ridiculously arrogant way he has.

He licks his lips as he rises, expression as lazy and smug as a contented cat. You haul him up and into your arms and kiss him hard. He wraps his strong arms around you protectively and takes a moment to listen to your breathing, still shallow from the love explosion. He finds infinite comfort in the repeated rise and fall of your chest. It proves to him that you are real, safe and here, right next to him. 

Before you, Astarion had never known true bliss. Sex – even when it’s mindblowing – doesn’t fix the part of you that’s broken. Good sex soothes, but doesn’t cure, and Astarion, who’s been using sex as a valium substitute since he’s been free from his former Master’s control, knows it better than anyone. But with you, it’s not just sex. It’s safety. It’s intimacy. It’s respect. And it’s all he’s ever wanted.

[angelltheninth]

Soft Yandere Boyfriend Turns Rough when He Sees His Best Friend Flirting with You

Pairing: Soft Male!Yandere x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, gentle to rough sex, possessiveness, yandere behavior, marking, biting, hickeys, hands pinned above your head

A/N: He can be crazy, just a bit. A tiny bit.

Your soft!yandere boyfriend never hurt a soul. You didn't think him capable of such a thing, he was protective but very gentle, even avoiding fighting when it can be done. Luckily he was more on the muscular side so him looking at someone wrong tended to do the job. You also noticed that every time it happened he was a bit rougher with you in bed, like he needed an outlet.

The only time you saw your soft!yandere boyfriend get into a fight it was with his best friend after he flirted with you as a joke. At lest his friend insisted it was a joke but after that fight your boyfriend wasn't buying that excuse. He took you by the hand after he yelled at his friend some more and wasted no time walking you home and immediately stripping.

He needed you. He needed this. He needed to know you would never leave him. With teary eyes your soft!yandere boyfriend kissed you, telling you he was sorry you had to see that, see him lose his temper. After this he'll try to talk to his friend for crossing a line but first he has to make sure you still love him and want to be with him.

Like those times before he pins you against the bed, angling his cock with your entrance while his hands pin your hands above your head. At time like this he doesn't seem like the soft!yandere boyfriend that you feel in love with, he is almost a different person. He looks, sounds, smells the same but the way he fucks you couldn't be more different.

Soft!yandere boyfriend doesn't take his stormy eyes off yours as he makes love to you. He needs this reassurance, he needs to see the love in your eyes as they glaze over with each pump of his hips against your own. His full balls ache with the need to be drained by you, his cock pulsing and stimulating your deepest, most sensitive spots. You can hardly keep the eye contact but you don't want to stop looking at him when he's this wild, when he shows you this hidden, rough side of him.

Your soft!yandere boyfriend keeps this possessive side hidden even from you, only allowing you to see it in moments like there. Moments where he as to make sure you're his and he's yours. To further assure you both of this he allows you to scratch his back as you come, meanwhile his teeth find the soft flesh of your breasts, biting harshly, too hard, the spiking pain sending you over the edge and him soon after.

The next day your soft!yandere boyfriend is back to his old self, apologizing to getting rough but happy that you enjoy it. When he kisses even bruise and bite he left on you he decides to call his friend to try and make up with him. When the three of you meet up there a big, proud smile blooming on his face when his friend notices the hickeys peaking from behind both your shirts.

[2hightocare]

ACQUAINTANCES!

Synopsis: Jungkook and you can only stand each other whenever you guys are fucking, well that’s what you guys thought initially.

Parings: fuckboy!jungkook x fuckgirl!reader

Genre: college au! fwb! e2l!

Warnings: smut!! Open ending, no confession. Rough sex, unprotected sex (pls wrap it) Smut with just a tiny bit of plot if you squint, reader is a squirter (sorry not sorry) daddy/mommy kink, cussing, blowjob, reader crying from pleasure, jk is a dirty talker, banter, a lot of bickering from both of them, cute fluff at the end for Valentine’s Day!

a/n: hai my loves, i disappeared for a while.. I’ve been really busy with school at the moment. But I wrote this short pwp for all of you as a valentines gift before I lag again.. I’m trying to write an actual f1 driver!jk fic right now so sorry if I’m not updating as much…. But anywho enjoy my little gift<3⭐️

“That’s my good girl, fuck." He plunges deeper into you, hitting your spot repeatedly. His hand lays on your head, pushing you down into the mattress, your makeup smudged from sucking his cock, and tears stream down your face.

“Right there, baby, that’s it.” Jungkook pounds into you from behind; your legs are shaking, trying so hard not to give out. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as his cock spreads your walls deliciously. “Agh fuck.” You moan loudly, your mouth hanging open, drool spilling out onto the white sheets.

You reach behind you, pushing him off you. A soft chuckle leaves his lips as he watches your legs shake. Your breaths are heavy, and you are trying so hard to catch your breath. “Take it off.” You whine about the condom; you reach for Jungkook's cock and pull on the clear condom, taking it off.

“Want me to fuck you, raw princess?” Jungkook groans, grabbing the base of his cock, giving your pussy a few slaps with his length, making you clench over nothing. Jungkook uses one of his arms to pick you up and turn you around, your back pressed against the comfortable mattress. “Feels good, huh?” He asks as he slowly rubs your swollen, aching clit with his thumb. Jungkook watches your expression, your eyebrows furrowed, your eyes cloudy, trying so hard to keep them open, his hand reaching to your tear-stained cheeks, squeezing them, making your mouth form a kiss.

“What do you say?” Jungkook asks as you slowly nod your head. You were fucked dumb, and he knew that, which made him chuckle softly. He could tell from how you couldn’t even answer the question or even fight him for it like you usually do.

“Speak up; use your words, baby.” Jungkook smirks, giving your cheeks a light slap before squeezing them again. “Feels so good.” You slur, and you squeeze your legs together to relieve some of the tension your center is feeling. You have come four times now, and Jungkook none.

“Good girl.” Jungkook says before helping you sit up as he leans against the header, his hard laying on his stomach. Jungkook is packed, to say the least; even when he’s soft, you can see his imprint in his underwear.

It scared you at first when he pulled it out because, how the fuck was that going to fit in you? You swear you almost got up and left. 

“That’s not going to fit.” You say, your pointer finger pointing at his thick length in his hand. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Jungkook chuckles, and you give him a glare back instead, showing that you are serious. “It’s going to fit; we’ll make it fit, baby.” He grins. "Plus, you can take four fingers; you’ll be fine.” He comes closer to you and says, "It’ll feel so good, I promise.” He whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your back.

You crawl your way to him, stopping between his legs; his eyes bore into yours. “You’re so pretty.” He compliments you, swiping his thumb on your bottom lip. “Fuck off, you just want your dick sucked.” You roll your eyes, grabbing the base of his cock. Your small hand, not even being able to wrap around his cock, always sent Jungkook a sense of pride to his chest.

“Gon’ suck daddy’s cock?” Jungkook moves your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “If you call yourself daddy one more time, I will bite your dick; don’t try me.” You glare up at him. "Well, isn’t she back? Not even five minutes ago, you were calling me daddy.” Jungkook chuckles at your expression. You looked hot with his cock inches away from your face, slightly twitching, waiting to be sucked.

You and Jungkook had history; to say the least, you both kind of hated each other. If it wasn’t because he said something you didn’t like, it was because he breathed a little too loudly around you. 

Just something about his smug face looking at you and throwing snarky comments had you wanting to claw your acrylics into his skin. Which was something Jungkook loved; he loved watching you roll your eyes every time you saw him, and he absolutely loved it when you fought back with him.

You had no clue how you ended up throwing insults at him every five seconds whenever he would show up anywhere; you would say it was because he was a man whore. You heard from every girl on campus how good he fucked but left right after coming, or if they were lucky, he left before they woke up. But honestly, that really doesn’t matter now that you’re in his bed getting your guts rearranged almost every seven days of the week by him.

Jungkook doesn't hate you; he just loves challenging you. Plus, he thought the only way he could find himself talking and being closer to you meant arguing; he would take it. You are well known on campus as well; his friends warned him about you, but you were just his type. So who was he to throw out the possibility of having you in his bed?

You didn’t even know how you ended up becoming friends with benefits—something along the lines of a frat party, an angry make-out session, and sex in someone’s bed. Jungkook fucked you so good; you are hundred percent sure you passed out and saw stars.

What were strictly professional meetings? how you like to call them? Turned into sleepovers, hanging out, cuddling, and calling each other cute nicknames. You guys still fought; it was more like bickering now. What you both weren’t looking for was a catching feeling; it started as having sex whenever one of you was horny, but now you find yourself wanting to be with each other regardless if you guys’ had sex or not.

“Now I don’t want to suck your dick after you called yourself daddy; that’s such an ick.” You scrunch your nose, giving his cock a tug, making him bite his lip with a laugh.

“That’s an ick? Ick when you told me to call you mommy like a month ago.” Jungkook recalls making your eyes widen. “Stop, I was drunk.” You whine, rolling your eyes. “We both said we wouldn’t bring it up, plus I said it as in sugar mommy.” You try to explain yourself as Jungkook smiles down at you. 

“Sugar mommy? I pay for everything, so just shut  up." Jungkook chuckles, grabbing ahold of his cock, giving it a pump.

You only follow his movements with your eyes as your pussy oozes with your juices, your wetness dripping down your thighs. Jungkook presses his cock to your cheek before slapping it multiple times. “My favorite view—imagine this, but on my lock screen." Jungkook jokes, which makes you glare at him. “In your dreams.” You say.

“It’s definitely in my dreams,” he groans. Jungkook moves his dick to your lips before patting his length on them. “Open.” He orders, which you immediately do, taking his tip into your mouth.

"Agh,” he chokes in a moan as you suck on the swollen tip. You replace his hands with yours pumping in his shaft while you try to take as much as you can down your throat. “Fuck.” Jungkook throws his head back, and you bob your head up and down his cock.

“So big.” You breathe out before returning to bob your head at a fast pace. Drool accumulates in your cheeks, dripping down Jungkook's cock. “Don’t boost my ego more, baby.” Jungkook howls; his tattooed hand gets a hold of your head before pushing it down. You gag on his cock, but Jungkook doesn’t care as he continues to fuck into your mouth. “Aw shit, shit shit.” Jungkook moans with each thrust into your warm mouth.

Tears run down your cheeks as Jungkook uses your mouth. Your hands rest on his hip bones, tapping slightly whenever you need to breathe. “Right there, baby, that’s it.” Jungkook mumbles, his cock twitching in your mouth, meaning he’s close. Before he could come, he pulled your head off of him with a loud pop. Strings of saliva and pre-cum connect your mouth and his cock.

“Fuck!” Jungkook pumps his cock hurriedly, his eyes shut as strings of curse words leave his mouth. “Where do I come? Shit.” Jungkook moans, his abs flexing as his hips lift up with each thrust into his hand. “Tits.” You wipe your mouth, positioning yourself in front of him before he shoots strings of his sticky cum on your round boobs. “Ahh fuck.” Jungkook chokes on another moan, giving his cock one last pump.

His chest heaves as he tries so hard to catch his breath, peeking an eye open and seeing you on your knees with your tits adorned with his cum. You giggle at his state. “I think you just boosted my ego by putting ‘expert at giving head' in my resume.” You joke as his chest rumbles with laughter.

“The head game is strong. Who taught you that?” Jungkook asks, and an inch of jealousy pikes his chest as he thinks about you ever giving a blowjob to someone else that wasn’t him. “Myself, you can do so much with a dildo.” You flutter your eyelashes at him, running your hands down his chest. His cock twitches as he watches you lay back down on the bed, your legs spread open as an invitation.

“Have I told you how good of an idea it was to get this mattress? Yeah, this one is a lot nicer,” Jungkook says as he starts to hover over your much smaller frame. “Whenever we fuck, it doesn’t leave me with back pain,” he moans when he easily slides his cock in you from how wet you are, a sharp moan that leaves your throat.

“It's al- also comfy.” You moan between deep breaths as his cock hits your g-spot. “Yeah, yeah, whatever it’s comfortable to sleep on,” he chuckles as his eyes flutter shut when you clench around him, sending him deeper into you.

“Shit! tightest pussy ever.” His grip tightens on your thighs, which are pushed up by him. “Do you see how pretty your pussy looks being filled with my cock?” He motions to his length, buried deep inside you. The noticeable bulge on your tummy has him wanting to ram inside you without restraint. 

He watches as you just hum with your eyes closed, “I said look.” Jungkook's hand gets a hold of your hair, pulling you upward, making you see his cock in you.

“I’m going to get a cramp because of you.” You moan as you watch his cock slowly slide out, making the bulge disappear before reappearing again when he slammed back, making your eyes shut with a scream. “You’ll be fine,” he laughs before slamming into you. The grip on your hair doesn’t loosen as your eyes vision is just his cock sliding in and out of your pussy over and over again.

“Open your eyes; come on, baby.” He gives your hair a little tug, making your eyes shoot open with your mouth wide open. “Fuck! Prettiest view, huh?” Jungkook's hips slam into you repeatedly.

“Ah, cramp,” you moan as he lets go of your hair, making you drop onto the mattress with a shake. His movements didn’t halt as he continued to fuck into you. 

Jungkook holds onto your legs before powering into you. Your hands grip onto the sheets as the moans flow out of your mouth uncontrollably. Jungkook spreads your legs open before pressing his palm on your lower belly on his bulge, sending a sense of shock through your body. Jungkook feels your pussy tighten, which only meant one thing, “I’m going to squirt, oh fuck.” You rush out, trying so hard to push him off.

Jungkook found out you were squirted when he fucked you in the bathroom at a Christmas party. Your red skirt lifted up to your ass, and your Santa Claus hat held on for dear life with each thrust he slammed into you. You didn’t expect to leave the bathroom with a drenched shirt; you only laughed at his reaction.

Jungkook pulls out immediately, inserting three of his fingers in you before pounding them in and out of you. Your body spasms with each curl of his fingers inside you, sending spurts of liquid out of you with a scream. Your eye vision went blurry, and as your head went lightheaded from the immense pleasure you were feeling, your hands gripped so tightly on the sheets that they went white.

“Are you breathing?” Jungkook chuckles at your spent body on his bed. He gives your pussy a small slap before kissing your cheek. "Mhm,” you pout, closing your legs, which has him laughing before he stands up and makes his way to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” You peek an eye open, watching him put on his boxers, his dick still hard from your guys previous activities. “I'm getting you a towel and clothes, princess.” Jungkook enters his bathroom, picking up a clean towel before making his way beside you.

“Let me clean you; spread." Jungkook taps on your thigh. You cover your face as he cleans you up. Small moans leave your mouth from the oversensitivity. You felt comfortable letting Jungkook do these things for you; even though they were super intimate, it didn’t feel wrong when Jungkook did it.

“All clean, let me help you put this on.” He motions to your pink panties you left a week ago in his house. Just thinking of Jungkook washing your underwear made your chest ache. "Up,” he says to your arms as he puts his black shirt over you.

“You didn’t come,” you say, looking at his erection. "It doesn’t matter; it’ll go away. Are you craving anything so I can DoorDash?” Jungkook skips over your question. “Wings..?” You pout as Jungkook picks you up and places you on the chair in his room as he changes the wet sheets for a new set.

“Order some; my phone is over there.” He points to his phone on the nightstand. Your heart skipped a beat. Not ever did one of your exes ever let you touch their phones, so for Jungkook to tell you to get his phone like nothing made your heart speed up, even if you both didn’t establish the boyfriend and girlfriend label.

Let’s just say you ended your night with wings in bed and a cute man cuddling with you all night until the morning.

[fettuccin-e]

Honey-Sweet

Description: You're far too sweet for him. He's determined not to ruin you, despite the fact that he seems to ruin everything, and everything about you just seems to make his fantasies worse. But one night can change everything, apparently, when Miguel finally sees how completely not sweet you can be.

Tags: Miguel O'Hara x Reader, afab!fem!reader, hoooh boy a lotta smut okay, oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv (pls oh pls wrap it up irl fuck them kids), riding, doggy, missionary, some fluff bc i'm not completely deranged, light degradation (w/c: 2.1K)

A/N: oh lord the Miguel brainrot is REAL folks okay this is fucking crazy. I WANT THIS MAN TO **** ** **** * ****** ******* okay he has me fuckin frothing at the DAMN MOUTH actin like a DAMN DOG okay so please enjoy a bit of a miguel smutfest

You’re too fucking sweet for him. That’s what he tells himself. Miguel O’Hara doesn’t do sweet.

You’re fucking sweet with the way you bring cookies in for the other Spiders that accompany you on missions. You’re sweet in how you brought in a ridiculous hand-made baby blanket for Mayday when Peter first brought her in, emblazoned with his Spider-Man logo to wrap her up tight in. You’d kissed the baby on the head, whispering tiny sweet nothings into her bright red hair, and Miguel had had to hide the emergence of his fangs at the sight of it.

You’re too sweet, too kind for him. You organize little movie nights at the office, you make him stay a little longer on missions so you can see the tourist spots from different universes. And the way you look at him, all wide-eyed and bright and smiling… it does things to him.

It makes him want to bring you flowers, kiss you on the cheek. It makes him want to plan fucking candle-lit dinners and bake cupcakes with you. All sweet, too sweet.

But, because he apparently can’t stop himself, you also want to make him do decidedly not sweet things. Like grab at your tits through your suit, pinching your nipples until your knees go weak and you whimper his name in your gorgeous little voice. Like force you down on your knees, fucking his cock into your hot mouth while tears leak down your cheeks. Like tying you up with his webs, eating your pretty cunt out while you struggle against them, whining that “it’s too much, too much Miguel.” Like fucking you deep, so fucking deep on his cock, making you squeeze around him while you scream for him, beg for him to fill you up with cum. He thinks about watching it leak out of your achy pussy, dripping down your thighs.

But you’re so goddamn sweet, too gorgeous and lovely, and he can’t ruin you, he can’t. 

So when you finally wear him down, finally get him to go to coffee with you, he tries to be just as sweet as you. You hold his fucking hand, you kiss him on the cheek. You smile into his mouth as his lips meet yours in front of your apartment door. Miguel swears that his heart will pop with how much it swells when you’re near him.

He brings you flowers, walks you to your door, brings you lunch while you’re filing post-mission paperwork. And God, it’s beautiful. It’s fantastic and bright and so wonderfully domestic that Miguel wonders if he’s died, gone to some heaven he doesn’t deserve. He’s determined to revel in the domesticity of this… thing he’s created with you, his disgusting fantasies be damned.

He doesn’t like to think about how he has to fuck his hand after he drops you off at your house, his lips still burning with the touch of your soft, soft kiss. He thinks about how your lips would look stretched around his dick.

He’s content. He’s happy. For the first time in so fucking long, he’s happy. And he’ll happily tug on his dick by himself for the rest of damn time if it means that he gets to revel in your soft, pretty, wonderful sweetness for a little bit longer. He will not ruin you.

But.

As he kisses you softly in front of your apartment, the both of you still suited up from your latest mission, you tug him closer. You pull him down into your hungry mouth, and you lick into him like you’re starving for it. He can’t help how he growls at the feeling of it, his big hands coming to clutch at your hips. God, you’re pretty, fucking addicting with the way your tongue tangles with his and how you whimper when his hands cup your ass, tugging you up just that extra inch.

“Take me to bed, Miguel,” you gasp between feverish kisses, and fuck, he’s gone.

He hauls you into his arms, and his knees almost go weak at the way you wrap your thighs tightly around his middle, the way you lick into his mouth all over again.

And Miguel has spent so much time in his head, thinking, no, knowing that you’re sweeter than goddamn pie. It’s in every fucking breath you take, every moment he spends with you. 

But that night, as he lays you onto the bed, gently, gently like you deserve, he learns that you’re not as sweet as he thinks you are.

Not at all.

Not with the way you roll him over with your strength, begging for him to disengage his suit, looking at him like you want to devour him as it dissolves around him, leaving him bare to your gaze. You graze a reverent hand up his chest as he heaves under you, whispering, “God, can’t believe I’ve waited this long to have you like this. You’re so pretty, Miguel.” 

Pretty. Pretty? He can’t be the pretty one, no, not when you’re unzipping your own suit, and he can see everything. Every inch of supple, soft skin. Your nipples, hard and peaked and begging for his touch. Your pretty, pretty pussy; he can see how you’re practically dripping, the wetness between your legs glistening in the soft lamplight.

And you’re not sweet, not sweet at all, when you nip and suck little marks down his chest and abs, grinning up at him like a damn siren when he gasps at your touch. Fuck, you’re the opposite of everything he thought when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing deeper, deeper until you just can’t anymore, jacking the rest of his cock while you kiss and lick and suck at him.

You grab his hand with your free one, and pull it into your hair. You pull up from his cock, and Christ, there’s a line of your spit that connects you to his throbbing tip, and Miguel thinks that he might die. 

“Fuck my face, baby?” you rasp, and yes, that’s it, Miguel is going to fucking die here. But he can’t refuse you, with those gorgeous eyes gazing up at him, the tip of his cock on your tongue. 

It’s not sweet, not at all, when he forces your head down on his cock, pressing himself deep into your pretty little mouth. And you moan like you love it, just taking it as he thrusts roughly into your mouth. Your spit runs down his shaft, your little whimpers and the way you choke when the tip jams into the back of your throat all echoing in his ears. 

He can’t hear himself, but God, you can. You relish the way he growls every time he pushes you down deep, telling you that, “You’re such a good girl, hermosa. Mierda, mi nena perfecta.” Your pussy throbs.

He isn’t soft, isn’t gentle like he told himself to be when he pulls you off his cock. You gasp for air, and Miguel groans as he pulls you up by your hair, dragging your spit-slick lips to his mouth. He can taste himself on your lips, all sticky and hot and puffy. 

You whine against his mouth, murmuring little pleas of “fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” into him, and his cock twitches, red and aching desperately for your touch. 

“Have to make sure you’re ready,” he mumbles, even though he aches, even though his claws threaten to show. 

“Nononono,” you whine, and then you sit back, hovering over his cock, fucking monstrous compared to the tiny opening of your dripping pussy, and press down.

Fuck, it’s like heaven inside you, all perfect and wet and hot, and you whine, muttering that, “It’s so fucking big, God, stretches me so perfect, so fucking perfect, so much bigger than I could have dreamed-“

“Nena,” he interrupts you with a hoarse groan of his own, “gotta stop, ‘s gonna, gonna hurt you, oh fuck-“ 

And you grin at him again, filthy and raunchy and not sweet at all, as you say “I fucking want it to hurt, Miguel. Wanna feel you in the morning, wanna feel you all the time.” And you press yourself the rest of the way down his thick cock, gasping for air, your hips twitching like they can’t decide whether to run away from the sensation or seek it. 

“Fuck, wanna feel you all the time,” you murmur and Miguel can’t decide whether you’re actually talking to him or not. “Want you to fuck me so hard I can’t breathe, fill me up so fucking perfect, God, oh my God, ‘m so fucking full,” you roll your hips forward in desperate little circles, a weak attempt at getting him deeper. An endless stream of ���fuck me, fuck me, please please please,” starts to leave your lips again, and you sound so desperate, so needy, that Miguel can’t help but roll you over, pinning you underneath him, and fucking his cock so hard and so deep into you that you dig your fingers into his back and sob.

He does what you ask that night. He fucks you and fucks you and fucks you, until tears leak from your eyes and your bed is soaked with a mixture of yours and his cum. And God, you scream for him, begging him for more, deeper, harder.

The slick sounds of your bodies meeting over and over must be heard all over the building, but Miguel can’t bring himself to care, not when he’s able to fuck you like this, disgusting and filthy.

How could a sweet, lovely, soft thing like you love this so much?

From that night on, it seems that all bets are off. From that night on, it seems that you make it a mission to show him exactly how not sweet you are.

Fuck, there’s no sweetness to you when you hump your hips into his face the next morning, practically smothering him in your pussy as you squeal and tangle your fingers in his hair. He digs his fingers so hard into your thighs that he’s sure they’ll bruise, and licks up your juices. Your pussy is honey-sweet on his tongue.

You’re not soft when you ride him into the mattress, throwing yourself down onto his cock and moaning as you stretch yourself out. You drag your nails down his chest as you bounce desperately in his lap, and Miguel kind of hopes you draw blood.

There isn’t an ounce of innocence when you sink down on your knees under his desk when he’s in a goddamn meeting, pulling his cock out and sucking at him until his claws shoot out and leave splintering holes in his desk. He has to hide his fangs from the video camera when you choke. 

When he finally, finally cuts the meeting short, feeding the other Spider-Men some bullshit excuse about a new anomaly, he presses your head to the base of his cock and shoots his cum down your throat. He means it as a punishment, but when he pulls you off his cock, and sees you with your eyes all glassy and smiling lazily, he can’t help but bend you over the desk and finger fuck you until you cry and scream and beg for him to fuck you with his cock.

You are so far from sweet when he fucks you on the floor after a mission, tensions run too taut and adrenaline racing through your veins. You throw your ass back onto him with every thrust into your sloppy cunt, moaning as he growls, “Such a fucking slut, can’t get enough of this cock, huh? My sweet, sweet girl, what would the rest of the Spiders say if they knew what a fucking whore you are for me?” 

And when you choke on your spit around your screams, he leans down to whisper that, “I know, cariño, I know. I'm gonna take care of you,” before he shoves your face down into the carpet and mounts you, shoving his fat cock down into you again and again and again.

Miguel is positive that he’s died and gone to heaven.

It’s not to say that you’re not the same, sweet girl who brings cookies to the office and holds his hand. No, you’re the same, perfect, sweet girl, only that you let him thank you for the cookies by eating you out on the kitchen floor. You hold his hand while you jerk his cock and swallow his moans with your kiss.

You’re just the right kind of sweet for him.

[sweetiecutie]

Warnings: smut, mdni, monsterfucking

Even though underbed monster! Simon is a brat and very often a nuisance, he still cares about you!! You are his favourite hooman after all, his feeder, gladly allowing him to nourish off your energy, giving him small treats and indulging in all his little whims. So of course Ghost is worried when you come back home after having an especially bad day, all hot and bothered, chucking down a few glasses of whiskey to ease your mind - but it didn’t seem to help much. Ghost feels the need to soothe you, to make you forget all the bad events of the day, empty your head of all the thoughts and worries, to make you feel good and loved!

That’s why your not so little monster urges you to take off your clothes, his tentacles spreading your thighs open, exposing your gorgeous pussy to his crimson eyes. One tiny tentacle wraps itself around the needy bud of your clit, rubbing it softly yet firmly, causing wetness to drip down the cleft of your ass in a matter of minutes. Simon makes sure to hit and nudge all of the special spots within your soft cunny as he stuffs you full of himself, making you squeal and writhe in pure pleasure under him, your eyes rolling back and toes curling as you cum repeatedly.

And only after turning you into a sobbing boneless mess, all fucked out and happy, does your underbed monster ease three of his tentacles out of your sore and raw pussy, wrapping himself around your still trembling form and purring satisfyingly somewhere in your neck, clinging to you for some warmth.

Underbed monster! Simon likes you very much after all, so he does everything in his power to keep his favourite hooman happy<3

Requests are open<3 Feedback is very appreciated, give writers some love🩷

[hon3y-y]

Mean nerd! Choso who is extreme intelligent and makes it known. He calls you dumb and belittles your intelligence, but is secretly in love with you. He offers to tutor you and every time you get a good grade he rewards by eating you out and being so sweet and loving, but when you get a bad grade punishment is the worst.

cw; dubcon/noncon (vv light), smut

He’s a meanie but it’s only to show his love:( he wants better for you, and he wants your dumb little brain to be filled with knowledge. He only calls you a “stupid slut” because he cares, not because he likes to see your pretty eyes tear up and your cheeks flush with humiliation. And he definitely doesn’t use that image when he’s pumping his fist full of his cum, his eyes rolling back as he forces himself through a third orgasm to the thought of your pretty tear stained cheeks.

In all honesty, He wants to make you sob on his dick and make your brain numb to anything but the way his cock drags against your tight cunt, maybe he could fuck the knowledge into you? He was willing to give it a try at the very least.

After weeks of torture, he finally convinced you to a tutoring session after saying that “you need him” if you want to pass the class with a decent grade. He worked you tirelessly, making you stay late to study and pulling your hair if you went to sleep(but not before putting his own head down and admiring your puffy lips and the light drool, cooing when your nose scrunched). The sessions usually ending with you in tears, your wobbly voice saying “I’m done.” and leaving mad.

You had full intention of quitting, sick and tired of the endless torments until you looked at your next exam. The score higher than all the rest and a bitter taste in your mouth when you realized he actually did help you.

At the next session you showed him the perfect score, reluctantly saying thank you. You were surprised when he gave you a genuine smile and even more when he had you face down on his bed, eating your pussy like a man. He’s spitting and licking from your clit to your ass, pushing his tongue in and smiling cheekily when you gasp.

Your head is in sheets that smell like him, arching your back as you whimper out praises and begging for him to not stop. He places a teasing kiss to your clit, pulling back to watch his fingers pop through the tiny hole of your pussy, biting his lip to stop a groan as he feels you flutter and nearly creams his pants when you look back to plead with him. “It’s okay baby, I got you~” he leans down to kiss your ass cheek before continuing to eat you out until you’re thrashing and squealing at the lightest touches.

He works you into overstimulation because he loves how you look when you cum, the tiny noises you make and the sound of his stuttered name making his cock twitch. He’ll reach down in the middle of slurping your juices to rub his hard-on through his sweats, letting out little puffs of hot air on your pussy when he brushes over his sensitive tip. He’ll probably make himself cum in his pants, reaching his dirty fingers to push into you or swirl over your soaking lips to make it creamier, watching the two of you mix together, making his soft dick hard again.

But god forbid you bring him a bad grade, you’ll leave sore and bruised. He’ll spank you until you’re sobbing and then slap your pussy until it’s raw, “you’re nothing but a slut huh? What, I treat you well once and you go and get stupid on me?”

He had you in mating press, cock hitting your cervix as you let out a choked sob. You’re sore cunt aches for him. he’s been edging you for hours and refuses to let you cum, leaving you to plead and wail as he pushes you closer to the edge again. “C-cho, please—been s’ good!” You slur, not being able to form words as he bullies his cock into you and uses his hand to cut off your circulation.

He scoffs, “good girls get good grades.” He pulls out completely, groaning as he pumps his cock and cums on your face with a whine. You shut your eyes when it lands on you, eye brows furrowing. “But I haven’t—“ he cuts you off with a tut, shaking his head as he catches his breath. “Only smart girls get to cum, sweetheart. let’s get cleaned up.”

**bonus**Will perform aftercare anyway because he’s not a monster</3, you’ll just pout the whole time and he’ll enjoy every second of it.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 !! ❞

❝ WHEN YOUR HOT COWORKER WANTS TO SUCK YOUR BLOOD, OF COURSE YOU'LL SAY YES !! ❞

✧ pairing: vampire! choso kamo x f!reader

✧ summary: choso kamo is your coworker who seems to hate your guts - even though you're both always stuck working together, but the only reason he does is because he wants nothing more than to eat you up -- blood and all.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, modern au, coworkers to lovers, vampire!choso, vampire bites are an aphrodisiac for both the vampire and the victim, no real dub/con b/c these two are already down bad for the other, mutual pining, scent kink, blood kink, blood sucking from neck / wrist, implied masturbation (m!), oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, implied multiple rounds, swearing, fanart by @ / yume041624

✧ wc: 7,193

It wasn’t as if you weren’t sure your coworker hates you—

 You were sure of it. 

He avoided you like the plague whenever the two of you were working on the same project. He always did his best to reply over email, avoid in person meetings, and he always seemed to get sick whenever the two of you had to greet the client together. But you didn’t know why — you hadn’t done anything to offend him, unless he had mistaken your hello for spitting in his face. And that wasn’t even the worst part. 

The worst part was that he was exactly your type — fucking hot. 

Dark locks tied into a bun with a few strands escaped its binding by the end of the day, his neat nails painted a dark purple that rifled through paperwork, his pretty lips pursed in concentration, and lovely, deep eyes that barely had stolen a glance at you but you could spend a millennia exploring—

In summary, you had it bad. 

And he didn’t seem to know — or worse, he knew and he hated it. Or you. 

But maybe something could change today, you flicked a pen up and down between two fingers as you stole a glance at him across the now empty office, the two of you were stuck working overtime on this project for two days now. But he still had managed to avoid you — but not today when you were stuck in the same conference room sorting through boxes of files that your client insisted must be done today. 

You were getting some sleep at a hotel across the street, taking a quick nap and shower before returning, but Choso looked like he hadn’t slept in days. And you didn’t know why. 

You glanced up at him between sorting through boxes, and you saw him adjust his collar, loosening his tie, fabric gripped tightly under white knuckles. His head was hunched over, his expression hidden behind the box in front of him, but you saw a hint of red in his eyes. You bit your lip, now you were worried. 

Maybe for the wrong reasons. 

“Choso, are you okay?” 

No, no, he wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay after working overtime for two days straight. He wasn’t okay being stuck in this tiny, dimly fluorescent lit conference room reviewing files that would only prove fruitless and a waste of time for all parties, and what made it worse was you—

No, not you, his canines grew, sharp fangs digging into the soft flesh of his bottom lips, 

Blood. 

Your blood. 

The very thing running through your veins and arteries, pumping through every crevice of your body through your heart — crimson stained your insides as it would your skin if pierced or cut — and it was the very thing that Choso wanted more than anything else. 

But no, it couldn’t be anyone else’s — he bit his bottom lip as you stretched, your blouse and hair moving ever so slightly and exposing your neck — it had to be yours. 

He pressed his hand against his face, palm covering the bottom half of his face as he forced himself to avert his gaze from you, all too unaware of his thirst — the very same that pulled his muscles taut and made his mouth water at the thought of you. His face was flushed — that much was for sure, as he felt the heat radiate from his face. 

And he knew one thing for sure — that you were the one who’s blood would taste like the divine personified. But that’s why he had worked so hard to avoid you, to make sure he didn’t spend any time alone with you, lest his logic and sense fail him at once and he ends up with his fangs pressed to the nape of your neck at once. 

No, he had decided he couldn’t do that. There were far too many times he had seen other vampires find partners this way — succumb to the urge — the draw of bloodlust — only for their partner to grow addicted to the pleasure that comes from the bite, and the relationship only fell apart when it was the only thing holding the relationship together. The bite could only do so much, it was an aphrodisiac for both parties, but not a miracle worker — chemistry burns bright and fast, but it could not make love exist if it wasn’t there to begin with. 

And his avoidance of you had made any relationship between the two of you hard to happen — especially when every word you spoke sounded sweet and honeyed from those pretty lips. It didn’t help that he was reserved to begin with, but you made all words fall from his mind with only a glance — so what would a conversation do to him — much less a kiss? 

“Choso, have you reviewed this one yet?” You ask, grabbing a box from his side, “I finished my half so I thought I’d help you finish yours,” 

He shakes his head, “Go ahead. Thank you,” he barely manages through nearly gritted teeth, with barely a glance up — fuck, it didn’t help that you were always so kind, good at your job, and so pretty—

Fuck, the document he held crumpled under his tight grip, he shouldn’t have let it get this bad. Why had he let it get this bad? A few overtime shifts weren’t usually a problem for him — but being stuck with you? It was torture in the highest order — especially since he hadn’t been able to get home to his reserves at home and he had just run dry of the bottles he kept on himself this morning. 

He sees you stretch again, this time your neck, and a heat began to creep on as he watched right over the top of the document he read. 

Oh, he was so fucked. 

You were going to ask him. 

You were going to confront him about why he avoids you. You had made up your mind — you were tired of walking on eggshells without a reason. If you were going to be stuck working with him on future projects, especially with this client, he needed to tell you if this was how it was going to be. 

And yet, you still sat, rereading the same document over and over, as the two of you were almost done wrapping up your work for the night. Choso was placing the last box he finished up away, a sigh stuck in his throat as he got to his feet. 

“I’m going to head home,” he gets to his feet, a sigh on his lips, as he rakes his fingers through his black locks, “do you need help cleaning up?” 

“No, I’m fine,” and he’s grabbing his things, as you bite your lip and stare at the shiny laminate of the conference table in front of you — fuck it, “I did have a question,” as he’s walking by in the doorway of the conference room, as your scramble to your feet, reaching for him, your fingers brushing his shoulder by mistake, and he’s tensing, “sorry, I didn’t mean—“ 

“It’s fine, what’s your question?” His reply is curt but he won’t even turn to face you, his fingers fiddling with the watch on his wrist. You furrow your brow, was it you or was his body shaking? 

“I just wanted to ask you if you had some sort of problem—“ and then his bag clattered against the floor, contents spilling out, as he supported himself against the door frame, slumped against it, as his fingers gripped it. 

You gasped, a quick brush of your fingers to his shoulder again, “Are you ok? Choso?” 

Choso’s head swam — he could barely hear anything — every sound drawn out and garbled, as if he had plunged his head underwater and words were echoing in his ears. He felt his knees buckle under his weight — and he can’t think straight — and for a moment of clarity he realizes why—

Your touch — it was a spark amongst a field of wheat in a dry heat — and it was enough to set his entire body alight. And now—as he barely held himself together, muscles tensed and eyes fluttering — a haze of heat blazing ribbons up his body, and down — right to his cock. 

Fuck. He’s swallowing, his muscles taut, as he tugs at his collar, even the brush of his clothes against his skin enough to drive him to the point of insanity. And it doesn’t help that your scent fills his nose, honeyed and cloying and he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing the scarlet gaze would do nothing but elicit a scream. 

“Please leave,” he says through gritted teeth, he can imagine the concern written across your expression, “go—“ 

“I’m not leaving you like this alone,” fuck, you only draw closer, the brush of your fingers against his shoulder enough to have him nearly keening for your touch — he’d nearly do anything you want for one touch, one drop of your blood, but he can’t — he can’t, “do you need water? What do you need?” And you’re helping him sit down on the floor of the conference room, as he clutches his bag to his front, desperate for something put between the two of you. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you what I needed, just go,” he’s pleading, head falling back against the wall — his mind is hazy, he can barely think about anything else but you — the way your soft lips are pursed in worry, the way your hands are so gentle against his skin and would feel so good gliding across his body, the way when he saw the multitudes contained within your eyes, but he only wanted to live in the warmth of your loving gaze, “I don’t want to hurt you,” 

The words come as a confession, a last plea for you to leave, but you seemingly only chuckle, furrowing your brow, “how could you hurt me when you’re more terrified than I am?” 

And oh you were so ignorant that you were inches away from a monster — a rabbit in a lion’s den, while you thought of him as a sheep — and his words weren’t enough to convince you, but maybe something else would. 

His eyes flutter open to find your own, and he finds his own reflection in your irises — a blood red reflected back in your lovely gaze, as your mouth falls open, brow wrinkled, and breath caught. 

“I-I-what?” and he sees your confusion written across your face, your fingers shaking as they brush against his cheek. Your touch sets his senses alight, a soft groan as he leans into your hand, his nose brushes against your wrist, and the thrum of your pulse ringing in his ears. His gaze finds yours — half moonshine with how it’s glazed over, “how?” 

And his lips part, when your thumb drags down his cheek, hypnotized and entranced under a spell he didn’t mean to cast. He turns his head so your fingers catch on his lips, parting almost obediently, flashing fangs that has a flicker of confusion swallowed by horror and then consumed by fascination completely. 

“Choso, what is—“ 

“You should go,” he murmurs again, “you can’t give me what you need,” 

And you’re speechless, as if you wonder if you’re seeing what you are — but the longer you stare, the quicker it seems to sink in. You swallow. 

“So you need my—“ and the sentence is cut off seemingly by the absurdity of the situation, as you mutter to yourself, “this can’t be fucking real,” 

“It doesn’t have to be, you can leave right now,” he pants, sweat slipping down his forehead, and you’re still frowning. 

“What will happen to you if I leave?” And he can’t think straight enough to lie, your fingers find his neck, to check his temperature but all it does is drive it higher. 

“Nothing you need to worry about—“ 

“Well, I am worried,” you cut him off, squirming in place, “if you just take some of my blood, will that—“ 

“It’s not just that,” he’s shaking his head, fangs nearly grazing his bottom lip as he sighs, “do you know what your blood will do to me?” His eyes seem to flash, a chill down your spine, “but more importantly worry what it will do to you,” 

And you stiffen, the spell waxing and waning as fickle as the moon never was, and that the thing about humans — you could never count on them to be consistent as all other things were. A beast can be predicted — their moves largely the same, caution put before hurt, but man gained consciousness and lost all reliability. 

And you were no beast, not like him. 

“What would…it do?” Your words are hesitant, carefully chosen, small jumps across stones rather than a leap across a rushing river. 

And he lets the raging white water brush against your skin when his hand cups your chin, leaning closer and letting his breath warm your skin, “To reduce the pain, my bite is like an aphrodisiac,” his thumb rubs back and forth across your cheek, “you won’t be able to stop yourself, and since your blood would do the same to me — I wouldn’t be able to help myself either,” his nose brushes against your cheek, as he leans in to whisper in your ear, “you should go.” 

But you don’t, silence settles over the two of you, until you choose to break it,  “I’m not going anywhere without you.” 

That’s what you had said — but how did that land you here? 

You both walked to your hotel room in silence, his flushed face hidden behind a mask, dead on his feet as he trailed behind you to the room. It was lucky you had a room right across the street from your workplace. You didn’t know what you would have done if you had to stay in the office — the blood would have been hell to scrub off the wood. 

And now here you sat after your shower, hair still damp as you toyed with the edge of your fluffy bathrobe, as you chewed on your lip. What had you gotten yourself into? You listened to his shower run, a sigh on your lips — it was fine. It would be fine. You just stick to the plan. You’d let him drink your blood, and he would lock himself in the bathroom — and you both would ride out your…symptoms alone. 

Fuck, you bury your face in your hands, what the hell are you doing? And that’s when the water stops — the quiet rustle and shuffling of himself in the bathroom makes your heart leap into your throat, as you sit looking down at the floor. 

“Are you okay?” his voice makes you jump even as you expect it, as your head snaps back to look at him. His black hair still wet from his shoulder, long locks clinging to his hair, droplets ran down his bare abs, your eyes following one down right to his happy trail only hidden away by his boxers— 

Fuck. 

He only continues to towel himself off, before grabbing his undershirt to pull it over his torso, as you choose to avert your eyes then — as if him getting dressed was any more scandalous than his shirtless state, “I am, I’m just a little—“ 

“You don’t have to,” and your eyes slide back to him, his face was still significantly ragged, dark bags and fatigue  clung to body worse than the water did — looking more like a corpse than a bloodsucker, “it’s not too late for you to leave—“ 

“No I decided I was going to help, so I’m going to,” you say, and his brow forms the same peaks and valleys he had all day — and you were sure his skin would remember the carvings at this rate, “what?”

“Why do you want to help me?” he mumbles, arms crossed, a distinct flush in his cheeks settling that surely wasn’t just from his shower, “I don’t get it, we barely have spoken—“ 

“We have spoken, our first week,” and his eyes snap to yours, “you may not remember, but you helped me,” and your cheeks burned, squirming in place as you couldn’t quite meet his gaze, “I had messed up on a project, I made a huge mistake on a document, one that could have costed the company a lot of money, and my job,” you murmur, “but you also took responsibility, even though it wasn’t your fault,” 

“I didn’t catch the mistake either, so it was my fault too—“ and you shake your head. 

“It was mostly mine still,” you offer a small smile, “and so if I can help you like this, I want to,” you shift, swallowing as an awkward silence falls over you both that you break, “why did you want to shower first anyway? You were ready to pass out earlier,” 

“I still am,” he admits, and you notice the subtle shake of his hands, “but I figured the shower would make us both feel a little more comfortable, and it helped to…calm me down,” he cleared his throat, and it slowly dawned on you, cheeks burning, “again, are you sure—“

“I’m going to close you off in the bathroom, and we should be able to ride it out — you said you don’t lose control of yourself or become violent,” and he shakes his head, “then it should be fine,” you have him draw closer, his soft steps against the plush carpet fell silent as he sat beside you on the bed. The creak of the bed as he sat on the other side a little awkwardly, “you should be closer,” and he’s nodding, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat. 

“I know, I’m just trying to…prepare,” he gives a shaky sigh, “your scent is—“ he scrubs a hand down his face, “it’s hard for me to be around, especially when we’re so close,” 

“My scent?” And his hand covers the bottom half of his face, turned away, as he murmurs. 

“Your scent is particularly strong — it’s…enticing enough for me to be distracted all day if I don't keep my distance,” and the pieces sink into place. 

“You avoided me at work because of that?” And he nods, as you bite your lip, a small chuckle on your lips, “I thought you hated me,” 

And his head snaps to you, blinking, “I don’t hate you far from it—“ he cuts himself off, his fingers grip the edge of the bed, “I’ve seen you in the office — you’re always so considerate, kind, and you always try to help, even people who don’t deserve it—“ he cuts off, “I don’t want to take advantage of your—“ 

You move closer, his breath hitching as you shrug your robe off your shoulders, leaving only your bra covering your chest, “You do deserve it,” Fuck, he was so close — you could feel the need come off of him in waves, the soft pants of his breath as his eyes fluttered. And you offer your neck to him, brushing your hair away — a silent offer. 

You see him bite his lip out of your periphery, but he’s leaning down, warm breath fans across your skin, as he ran a finger down your neck, “Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice a raspy whisper, “you smell so good,” and you nearly shiver as his lips brush your skin — soft lips against your skin, the barest brush, as if he’s trying to acclimate you to his touch. But it only stoked a fire — the same flame burning even before today, the one that wanted more than a bite at the apple — you wanted him down to his core. 

His lips press another kiss to your neck, lingering longer, as he noses the skin there, and you’re biting your lip, the want bubbling into boiling need, “Please—“ you gasp as his fangs graze your neck now, the sharp points lightly dragging across the muscle, right before his fangs sink into your neck. 

Your lips part, head nearly lolling back into his warm palm cupping the nape of your neck. Any pain only registers for a split second before disappearing under whitehot pleasure. Your blood turns to heady wine straight from his bite, his muffled moan vibrates against you, sending a wave of heat right between your thighs. Your head spins, all logic melts with as the wildfire only consumes — leaving only want behind. 

Coherent thoughts don’t form — instead fractured thoughts spiral into a chant. You want more. You want more of his touch, his body, his words. You want him. 

You want him. 

And when he’s pulling his fangs from your neck, the sound of his teeth pulled from your skin only rings in your ears for a moment, before blood roaring in your ears replaces it. Burning — it felt as if every part of your body was aching, a deep throbbing with no end in sight. You glance at Choso — and only one cure. 

Fuck, his skin looks so lovely when flushed a pretty pink — nearly a scarlet that lit a trail up his neck and across his cheekbones all the way to his ears. The heavy pants that left his lips did little to assuage the desire for him — his defined chest rising and falling with each breath he took, his long jet black locks hanging like a curtain around his gaze. 

Your fingers are reaching for him, “Cho—“ and he’s shaking his head, as his muscles tense, as he leans away from you. 

“Give me a moment,” so you do — you pull back, and he’s rising to his feet, shaky still, but seemingly for a different reason as he turns and flashes the rising tent in his boxers. 

And you press your thighs together, wondering just how big he was — eyes fixed on the growing damp spot on his boxers — how he would shiver when you squee3/ him at the base in your hand, what sounds he would make when you’d flick your tongue against his weeping tip, and how he would moan your name when he sunk into you— 

You were so fucked — if your drenched panties were anything to judge by. 

“Choso, please—“ and he already knows what you’re asking for between the lines of your plea, and his eyes find yours, his dark gaze catches yours, ensnared in the blackhole that only pulls you under and apart, pinned underneath him. 

“It’s just the bite, we can’t,” he’s covering his lips, as he takes steps away from you, towards the bathroom, “we just have to wait until it passes. It won’t take too long—” 

“What if it’s not just your bite? Not for me,” you murmur, and the words are being spilled from your lips like honeyed truth with no bitter aftertaste, “it hasn’t been for me,” his brow is furrowing as if he can’t imagine a single person liking him, “I’ve spent the last year working with you and all i know is I wanted nothing more than to be the one you smile at — the same soft way you do when you your little brother visits you at work,” 

And he’s swallowing, a deeper blush on his cheeks, “you noticed?” 

“I also noticed how you always bring the person you work with their favorite coffee order, the way you try to make others feel valued when the company doesn’t even do it, and how you always do your best — even when it comes at your own expense,” it’s so easy to say these things, but it only makes you long for him more, “let me do more — let me take care of you—“ 

And he’s covering his mouth with his forearm, “do you know what you’re saying?” you slowly get up from the bed, taking careful steps towards him, “our heads are clouded, we aren’t—“ and he swears under his breath but he doesn’t resist your approach, the bathroom door right behind him, “I don’t want to hurt you—“ 

“Do you feel the same for me?” and his gaze softens as he meets yours, “because I get the feeling you do — at least you like my scent,” a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, “hopefully not just my scent?” 

And you didn’t know it was possible for a vampire to be this pink in the face, but Choso was — and you weren’t sure if it was your words or your closeness, “It’s not just your scent,” he’s mumbling against his arm until he’s pulling it away, to reveal his lips colored a faint scarlet from your blood, “I have feelings for you — I have for a while,” 

God, he was fun to tease, “What’s a while?” you’re murmuring, his lips part, flashing his fangs while he does. His eyes avert from your face, only to land on your neck, grazing over the bite mark he left, and you decide to spare him, “but if it’s been a while for you and for me, then—” he’s shivering again, a sigh caught in his throat, muscles tensed as if he was a tiger ready to pounce. 

“It’ll be hard to stop once we start — we should think—“ your fingertips brush his cheek, his eyes falling shut at your touch, the want inside you only grew, as you felt him lean into you. 

“Who said we’re going to stop?” and he breaks, his hand is sliding around your waist, tugging you closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his words nearly muttered against it. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I am—” and that’s all he needed. 

In a flash you’re pinned on the bed, blinking as you glance at the spinning ceiling fan for a moment before he’s leaning over you. 

His eyes are tinted with red and laced with desperation, fangs flashing as his fingers cup your chin and he leans down, “I’ll show you how much I like you, pretty girl.” 

“Oh, Cho-so,” your arms are wrapped around his torso, pulling him impossibly closer, his hot tongue dragging up the side of your neck, licking at the rivers of blood dripping down, “fuck, please—“ 

“Can’t waste a single drop, not when you taste so good,” he’s murmuring, nearly hypnotized by your taste — his sticky saliva and your blood mixed together, “fuck, I could kiss every inch of you and it wouldn’t be enough,” 

“Please, I need more,” and he’s chuckling, nibbling at the base of your neck, a whine parting your lips that made him nearly bust a nut then and there, “please—“ 

And his lips find yours in a searing kiss, fangs lightly biting your bottom lip, swallowing your gasps with a smirk, and how is it possible your lips are even sweeter? It was as if you were made of molasses, and he was more than happy to indulge. He parts your lips, dragging a thumb down your kiss bitten lips, your saliva clinging to his skin. 

“You know how long I wanted this? Had to touch myself in the shower to stop myself from pinning you the moment we entered the room,” he murmurs, recalling how his fingers had reached for his cock, already nearly covered in pre, his thumb running across his slit was nearly enough to make him burst. But it paled in comparison to the sight of you, disheveled under him, eyes glazed over with pleasure, chest rising and falling fast, and your lips nearly begging him to kiss you again and again, “and now I want to take my time, love,” but he doesn’t, instead he bends down again, to nip and suck marks all over your skin, savoring the drops of blood he steals from each one — a constellation dotting your neck and collarbone to remind anyone that you were his. And his fingers find yours, just as he was yours. 

And you whimper, as he kisses his way down your arm, sweet pecks dotting down, until he reaches your wrist. He noses it, feeling the rush of your pulse underneath your skin, the sweet scent of your blood clouded his mind, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin, as he flashes a gaze upward for your silent permission. You nod. 

Your nod was all he needed, before his fangs sinks into your wrist. It was potent — you were potent rather — he had grown used to his normal supply of blood, blood that he had acquired through the proper channels, and though it quenched his thirst, it never satisfied it. 

You were more than satisfaction itself — you were ecstasy incarnate, and he was utterly addicted from the moment he had his lips pressed against your lovely skin. Scarlet dripped from the bite and the corners of his mouth — the blood flooded his mouth, an unending pool of need that only grew with each second. 

And as he pulled away, blood dripping from his lips, he watched your eyes flutter open, legs spread for him, as he licked his lips clean. 

“Such a waste to let even a single drop go,” he drags his tongue up the rivulets of blood that ran down your wrist, and a whimper escapes your lips, and his lips curl, “what do you want, love? Tell me,” 

And you’re biting your lip, averting your gaze, but he’s guiding it back to his, “Choso, please, I need you to touch me,” you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, cheeks burning, “please—“ 

He pulls your hand away, and kisses your lips again in a bruising kiss, before he’s pressing sweet kisses down your body, easing the straps of your bra down. He kisses the swell of your breasts, one after the other, making you squirm in place.

“Pretty girl,” he’s murmuring, his lips kissing each one of your erect nipples, caught in a thick haze of lust, “so good for me,” and he’s lighting a trail of kisses down your body, and he’s resisting the urge to mark up every inch of you — no, there would be time for that later, his eyes flicking up to meet your half lidded gaze, “gonna be good for me?” His skillful fingers slide under the elastic of your panties, snapping the fabric against you, making you gasp, “either way, I might just eat you up,” 

A shaky chuckle escapes your lips, “Promise?” And he chuckles, as he’s spreading your lips, leaning down to press a hot kiss to your inner thigh. 

“Be careful what you wish for,” his teeth graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, before running over the mark with his tongue, before his fingers are running over your drenched panties, and it takes everything in him not to sink his fangs into your plush thigh, but no — he’s carefully tugging down your underwear down your legs — he had to stay focused. 

His breath catches at the sight of your dripping cunt and swollen clit, glistening with your juices that told him just how much you wanted this — and it was enough to nearly have him cumming in his boxers. And then the sweet scent of your precum becomes too much for him—

And he can’t wait. 

His tongue flicks against your clit, making a squeal escape your lips, fingers finding purchase in the long strands. It’s too good — judging by the way your hips nearly rut into his lips, while your own moans his name. But it was even better for him, as he groans against your pussy, licking the pre sticking to his lips. 

“How do you taste so good? Sweetest thing I’ve tasted, as good as every part of you,” 

You gasp when his fingers spread your folds, “Cho—“ and he’s circling a tip of one of his lithe fingers around your entrance teasingly. 

He hums lightly, “Can’t decide whether I want to use my fingers or my mouth, love,” he murmurs in contemplation, whilst his tongue teases your needy clit, “what do you think, baby?” 

“I need you—anything—“ and he’s licking a stripe up your sweet pussy, before he’s sinking a finger into your fluttering walls, “Choso—fuck—“ and the wet squelch of your cunt and the feel of your fluttering walls around his digit makes his dick twitch in his boxers, “s’good,” 

And you’re melting into his touch, your juices soaking his fingers and wrist as he fucks you with his finger, knuckle deep in your warm walls, rubbing at your clit with his thumb. 

And you’re so sensitive, every move of his finger has your walls squeezing him tight, his other hand sneaking into his boxers to palm at his erection, “Cho, I need more—“ and he’s adding a second finger to the first, fucking you deep until he finds that spot — and that’s enough for you to fall apart. 

You cum, back arching as you do, stars bursting behind closed eyes, as you moan his name. He’s fucking you through your orgasm, walls fluttering around his fingers, thighs tensing around his hand. You come down from your high, chest nearly heaving from your pants, as he eases his fingers from your pussy. A soft sigh leaving your throat as your cunt flutters around nothing. 

Your eyes flutter open to see Choso licking his fingers clean — still sticky with your release — fangs flashing with the part of his lips, and you shiver at the sight. He’s leaning back down, pressing kisses to your thighs, before his tongue drags up your leaking pussy, making you gasp. 

“Please, Choso—fuck—“ and he’s smirking, glancing up with lips glossy with your release, placing a chaste kiss to your puffy clit, your eyes falling to his hand palming his boxers, “let me touch you—“ 

“Not yet, baby,” his tongue circles your slit, circles growing faster before sinking into your insides, nose bumping against your swollen clit, as he laps at your messy slit, “not until I’ve swallows every drop of you,” his fangs pinch at your clit. 

It’s already too much for you — your second orgasm sneaks up on you — a coil wound tight as he slurps and sucks at your cunt, all too eager to taste every last drop. And oh, he does — until he uses his thumb to rub at your clit, and it’s too much—

You squirt all over his face, soaking his face and fingers with your release, his lips more than eager to lap up every drop of it. Even as he pulls away, your cum is dripping down his chin, his dark eyes lidded as he looks up at you. 

And he can’t wait anymore—he needs to sink his dick into you. He’s licking his chin clean, pussydrunk on your cum, as he smashes lips to yours. Your moan is stifled as you taste yourself on his lips, tongue sneaking into your mouth as you part them for him. You hear the shift of the sheets as he tugs his boxers down, pulling his lips away only to finish kicking them off. 

But that’s not what you were looking at. 

Fuck, he was huge — his engorged tip was a deep red, large pearly beads of precum dripping down, while the rest of him was flushed a lovely pink. The veins that went along his length made gou tempted to trace them, mapping out his cock until you remembered every inch. You were hypnotized as your fingers reached for him, thumb flicking against his slit, before grasping at his base. 

He gasps, head lolling back, as you spread the pre along his length, beginning to pump him, “Fuck, so good for me, baby,” he’s covering his lips, cheeks flushed to match his cock, “please, I won’t last—“ and he nearly blows his load when your mouth sucks at the tip, before sliding his dick past your lips. your tongue tracing along the veins.

And a whine leaves his throat, as you start to bob along his length, spit and precum dripping down the corners of your mouth as you messily sucked at him. His hips jerk, as his fingers thread into your hair, tip brushing against his throat, it’s almost too much. 

He’s easing you off his cock with a tug of your hair, your lips parting with a pop, strings of saliva and precum connecting your mouth to his dick. And god, he wants nothing more then to pump his cock and let him spill all over your face. 

But no, no, he rather spill inside you. 

In an instant he’s gotten you onto your back,  the head of his cock brushing against your dripping cunt. He’s dragging the head of his dick against your dripping folds teasingly, making you squirm. 

“Please,” you’re whining, drawing a soft chuckle from him, as he’s lining himself up, groaning in unison as his tip bumps against your slit, “fuck, Choso, I need you—“ 

And he obliges, sinking into you inch by inch, a grunt from his mouth, “Already trying to swallow me whole, love? No need for that — I’m already giving it to you,” the delicious stretch of your warm walls pull him in deeper, stretching as he works himself inside your cunt, “so tight, baby,” and he’s finally bottoming out — cock twitching against your sweet cunt. 

He’s reaching places you didn’t think were possible, his 

You were far too tempting, “Please, Cho, please move—“ your words cut off with a gasp as his lips against your neck again, fangs piercing your skin as he bites you, right as he starts to slowly fuck into you. 

White hot pleasure rips up your spine — the bite and the way his cock fucks you enough for you to already cum around him, your mouth parted in moans, as your walls clamp down on him. He’s sucking greedily at your blood, and he wasn’t sure what was better, the way your sweet blood tasted against his tongue, or the way your release squelched around his dick, as he fucked it. And he barely registers that his cock is growing larger against your spasming pussy, but you sure do, as you moan his name. 

“S’big, Choso, too big,” you’re whining, as his hand presses against your lower half only to feel a slight bulge, and he only makes him want to thrust harder, too far gone to think — only one thought circling the drain of his pin sized perspective — that he wanted to fill you up, 

“Cho-so, please—“ and he doesn’t know what you’re asking him, to slow down or to go faster, as he pulls his fangs from you. And he could cum just looking at you — your forehead slick with sweat, while scarlet rivulets of your blood ran down the side of your neck, eyes blown out in such lust — and everything about your body begging him to fuck you more.  

“S’pretty for me, baby,” as he fucks you through your orgasm, another building in its place, as he watches his cock piston in and out of your fluttering cunt. And it feels too fucking good. And he’s leaning back down to lick up the blood staining your neck, as he gives a particular hard thrust that has you seeing stars, and he knows you’re close—and he knows he won’t last much longer — not with the way your vice grip cunt is squeezing around him. 

But you’re confirming it with your moans, filling his ears along with the lewd noises of skin slapping together, “I’m close—I’m—“ and he’s grunting in agreement, as his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, only to pull a breath away to ask: 

“Where?” And the flutter of your walls that pulls him impossibly deeper tells him the answer, but you reply with words as well.  

“Inside, please, need to feel you fill me—“ you cum then and there, words cut off with a moan of his name, and he’s fucking you through your orgasm. His thrusts stutter as he grows close, before groaning and pressing another kiss to your lips, biting your bottom lip to draw blood, as he spills inside you, painting your insides with his hot release, fucking it inside you as his hips slow. 

He’s pulling away from your lips, pulling himself from inside you, a soft gasp leaving your lips, as he moans himself when he watches his seed mixed with your cum slip from your pussy. 

He’s caressing you, pressing sweet kisses to your face and neck, your quiet pants filling his ears like a metronome. 

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, and your eyes flutter open, lips curling slightly as you nod, a sigh on your lips. 

“I’m more than okay,” you press your lips to his again, a sweet kiss that grows more insistent as your tongue drags against the seam of his lips, before you hear a wet squelch, and your eyes open darting down to only find him stroking his cock, “Choso, are you—“ 

“Mm, the effect of your blood hasn’t quite subsided for me,” he murmurs, “but I think I can take care of it with—“ and he’s flipped onto his back, eyes blinking up as you, sitting on top of him. 

And he sees the blatant want in your gaze, as you begin to lower yourself onto his dick, a smile pulling at your lips, as your lust pulled him under and his cock inside you. 

“I told you I’d take care of you, Choso,” and you offer your neck to him again, dragging your wrist across his face, “so let me.” 

“You’ll be working with Choso again on this project,” you have to bite back your smile, when you nod, “the two of you did a good job on the last one. Thank you for the overtime you put in. It did not go unnoticed,” 

“No problem, sir, anything for the job,” and your supervisor smiles, as you turn to leave, “I’m sure Choso would say the same,” 

“The two of you make a good team. I may pair you two together more often. Is that okay? I’ll have to run it by Choso, of course,” and you nod, hand already on the door knob. 

“I’m sure he would be more than okay with that, sir.” 

“Ah, baby, please just one bite?” Choso’s got you pressed up against the conference room door, “spending all day at work with you makes me so needy,” he mumbles against your skin, as he’s already unbuttoning your button up, the shirt already creased with he’s tugging it free from your slacks, “please,” 

“Cho, you had one this morning, it’s barely lunchtime, and you’re this desperate—” and he’s grinding his tenting erection against your clothed cunt, and your hand barely is able to make it in time to stifle your moan with your fingers, “fuck, fine, one bite, but don’t make a mess, this is a white blouse, babe—” 

He’s already tugging down your shirt, wrapping his arms around his middle, as his red tinted gaze meets yours in the shaded drawn window of the conference door. And now you were sure — your coworker loved you, even when you thought he didn’t.  

“Don’t worry, love, I won’t spill a drop.” 

✧ a/n: this fic was weirdly hard to write. i was very stuck for a while. i couldn't figure out how to write it even though the idea struck me. but i hope you all enjoy <3 thank you for @laneysmusings and @gaylatteart for betaing and being the best moral support <3

✧ taglist: @yourwaifuhatesyou, @cira273, @kakashineedstotouchgrass, @whereismysane, @kaedeolgy, @keirangoldenwatch, @indieotterxoxo, @mua-for-now, @b3llair3, @evieslook, @shervinss, @saltymeow77, @svt-backup, @dazailover1900, @kentocalls, @yamaguccitadashi, @simply-a-s1mp, @rita-ritarita, @gorepain, @jupisloveletterz, @ice-echo26, @lemonpoppy-seed, @turtletaubwrites, @complexivelovely, @tiramatsumu, @strangehuman101, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @adrenova, @chosoitos, @stonecoldsensitive, @flyingtranscatofeffed, @sunamatic, @maetziniscool, @muichirosbestie, @monstrousbuu, @spider-fan72, @nakariabnrb, @petalshxwer, @talkativetranscendant, @fairyxgothic, @jupisloveletterz, @crystalkat6747, @unorthodoxfaithxx, @hotcocokiss, @angstigone, @sunnykento, @dantaku

[its44intheehouse]

IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH THE F1 DRIVERS

Wondering what it would be like to date the f1 drivers? 😏

___________________________________________

warnings: not much, fluff?, implied smut, (smut?), dirty thoughts, mentions of breeding kink, cursing.

Max Verstappen

-he's your biggest fan. in every way possible. he loves to support you, to admire you, to see you happy.

-you're his biggest love. he didn't think he could fall for someone that hard. he's completely whipped and everyone knows it.

-gets jealous a lot, but doesn't always show it, although you know better. he doesn't like it when other men look at what's his.

-that's why he has decided that from now on every man will know who you belong to. either by covering your soft neck in bruises or making you walk out of the bathroom with your cunt stuffed of his cum. he absolutely enjoys seeing you squirm all night and try not to make it obvious to everyone in the room that his seed is dripping down your bare legs.

-he loves how submissive you are for him. of course you love being a spoiled brat sometimes just for the fun of it, because then he gets feral. and you always know it’s gonna end in a lot of orgasms.

“I thought you wanted to be a brat? What happened, schat? Fucked your tiny brain out?” his thrusts hit a spot inside your pussy that makes you see stars. He slaps your cheek to get your attention, knowing you’re going dumb already.

All you can do is cry out and shake your head. You can’t talk. You can’t even think. You’re too busy trying to jerk away from his harsh thrusts.

You know he doesn’t like it when you don’t answer him.

“Talk.” he snaps, squeezing your cheeks tightly then slapping you again.

“YES daddy. Sorry for b-being a brat. Please, please! Make me cum!”

Lewis Hamilton

-spoils you all the time; expensive jewelry, cars, clothes, lingerie, vacations… whatever you need or want. also, his card is always on your phone. he insists you use it anytime you want.

“Get yourself something nice, baby… I want to see you dripping with my wealth. You are my beautiful little wife.”

-will always have a hand on you. in the car while he's driving, on your b*tt when you're walking, on your thigh when you're having dinner with your parents and his fingers successfully rub a spot on your clit through your panties that makes you twitch and moan every time. thankfully, your parents were oblivious.

-kisses the ground you walk on. he's a grown man and isn't afraid to show you how a real man loves his woman.

-especially when he's between your legs, showing you how you deserve to be treated.

“Come on, princess… gimme one more. You’d do anything for daddy, isn’t that right princess?” he softly rubs your cheek with his finger, thrusting a little bit more inside your tight and overstimulated cunt.

“D-daddy… too much. I don’t think I can…” you whimper stupidly, still slightly shaking with the intensity of the last orgasm you just had about 2 minutes ago.

He smirks. “Of course you can, baby. Don’t you want daddy’s babies? Hm?”

He loves how pathetic you get after a few good orgasms. He knows he’s the best you ever had. He can make you cum anywhere, anytime. You let him do whatever he wants to you.

Carlos Sainz

-can be possessive at times, but loves to show you off. you are his most prized possession.

when he met you, he knew he wanted to date to get married, not like the relationships he had before.

-takes you everywhere with him; vacations, races. he can't stand being away from you.

-he secretly fantasizes about you carrying his children. until one night after a baby shower when he confesses to you.

“Mi amor… You don’t know how beautiful you looked today with my niece in your arms. I can’t wait to get you pregnant. Make you my precious wife.”

His touch on your thigh gives you goosebumps, and you suddenly feel impossibly aroused by his confession. He didn’t even need to ask. You’d give him as many kids as he wants.

He recognizes the look in your eyes. The craving, the lust. He knows you like the back of his hand. “You’d like that, no? To walk around all round and heavy with my child. To make these tiny tits swell and burst with the sweetest milk…” he grabs at your breasts and squeezes, making you moan in response.

“Yes, papi. I want to have your babies… please touch me…”

Lando Norris

-you're his best friend. his rock, the girl of his dreams.

-datind lando is the most intense experience of your life. he is a fierce lover. but loves to be soft for you sometimes

-he loses his mind when you're being bossy with him, showing off your bold attitude.

-especially when you're making him beg for you.

“What did you say?” You smirk, hovering on top of him, teasing him sometimes with a swift rub of your wet pussy on his erect and red cock.

Poor baby, you edged him for too long and he couldn’t take it anymore. His cock twitches every few seconds and you know he isn’t going to last too long.

“Please, baby… fuck, please.” His voice is hoarse when he talks, probably from all the moans you pulled out of him already. “Let me fuck you, I need it. I have so much cum for you baby… Please.”

You moan at his words and decide to stop the torture. You needed him too. Nothing compares to the way he stretches your sweet little pussy. Quickly, you align yourself with his cock and sink in, making the both of you moan loudly.

Charles Leclerc

-you're eye candy for this man. ever since he saw you he couldn't take his eyes off you.

-he loves to have you at the races. he's constantly trying to show off and be the best, because he loves the look on your face when he wins or he's doing good.

-he's going to be the most romantic man you've ever had. he's always touching you, always tells you what an angel you are, how beautiful you look, what a good girl you always are for him…

-ESPECIALLY if you’re bent over his lap while he’s driving and you’re sloppily sucking on his cock.

“Mm, fuck. That’s is, mon ange, suck my cock. You’re such a naughty girl.” he mocks you almost, and it makes you even more eager to show him who’s in charge. for once.

Gagging a little, you take more of his length in your mouth, forcing your throat open. Suddenly, you feel his hand slap your ass hard and you can’t control the loud moan that threatened to escape you. Your throat squeezes his head perfectly then, and he lifts his hips up a little, hissing at the sensation.

“Gonna make me cum, baby, fuck.”

Your efforts double when you hear that, and you wrap your small hand around his cock, starting to pump his hard, heavy shaft. Your swollen lips are still wrapped around his head, licking and sucking on it desperately, waiting for his hot, salty cum.

The car stops abruptly and you assume he just pulled over. His hand then snatches your hair in a messily done ponytail and forces your head down his cock, making you cry and gag uncontrollably.

“Take it. You greedy girl. Take my fucking cum. Fuck.”

[sttoru]

toji never celebrates his birthday and thus learned to treat it as any other regular day. well, until you came into the picture and did the unexpected.

☀︎｜tags. dom!toji fushiguro x female reader. smut mixed with fluff & sprinkle of angst. implied age gap (reader early 20’s, toji late 20’s /early 30’s) implied size difference, p in v -> unprotected, cowgirl position, toji actually being a soft dom kinda, praise mixed with tiny bit of degradation, slight corruption kink, dirty talk / teasing, biting, creampie, reader gets called ‘princess, little girl \\ pretty, innocent, small'. not beta read. happy bday hubby!

“i told ya — fuck jus’ like that — not to buy or do anythin’ for me on m’birthday.” toji’s head lolls back against the pillow while his rough palms explore every inch of your gorgeous body. the word ‘birthday’ rolls off his tongue in a bitter manner. the assassin never celebrates that dreadful day, as he calls it.

he’s never found it to be worth remembering. his family couldn’t care less about that day when he was a child, so why would he?

but, that changed when you came into his life. toji flinched when he heard a loud ‘pop!’ sound upon opening the front door to his apartment. he was used to those noises being one of danger and thus swiftly reached for the spare weapon in his pocket. . . only to notice you standing behind the door with a party popper and a homemade cake.

the older man froze in place for a good few seconds, though was quick to realise the situation and relax. after the initial shock died down, you excitedly dragged him off to the living room to show him the presents you bought.

toji's first reflex was to scold you for spending money on him. he had never gotten anything for his birthday—it was weird to finally receive something from someone who actually cares for him. it somehow made him feel guilty as well. was he worth spending money on?

toji’s impressed reactions when unwrapping the presents showed you exactly how foreign the moment was to him: he’s never opened any gifts before. that much was even more evident after witnessing his inexperience in peeling off the tape from the boxes.

eventually, after opening around seven gifts, toji got to unwrap his final present. the present which was you.

the way you innocently yet seductively whispered words of affection in his ears made his mind go blank. even if it were simple ‘i love you’s and ‘happy birthday’ wishes. the red dress you had on and how your figure looked in it made everything ten times more sexual to the assassin. anything after that was a complete blur. his body moved on its own and yours followed right after until you finally landed on top of him — riding him.

toji’s half-lidded eyes couldn’t get enough of the sight he's witnessing. maybe his birthday wasn't such a bad day after all; the loving memories you're currently creating would surely outbalance the negative ones.

you shake your head at toji’s earlier sentence and tighten your grip on his shoulders, nails lightly digging into his skin and leaving faint red marks. you almost can’t talk due to the overexertion—your hips continuously rising and falling back down for the sake of your lover, “i- mph, wanted to get you all those things. you deserve them, toji.”

the view of your small body trying its hardest to not give in to its need of an orgasm made the assassin dizzy. his large hands settle on your waist and his eyes watch your every move from behind his black bangs. toji silently hisses as he feels your tight cunt clenching around him, “. . . f-shit. easy there.”

your pretty face is his weakness. especially when your usual innocent look gets replaced by one filled with carnal desire. toji can easily get off to the idea of him having that effect on you—his words, body, looks and actions that corrupted your every being in intimate moments like these.

“such a sweet thing,” the dark-haired man coos, brushing the stray locks of hair away from your face with his index finger. his other hand rubs up and down your inner thigh, each time getting dangerously closer to your clit, though never getting a single touch in. the scarred corner of his lips twitch in an amused grin at your whines, “oh? want me to touch you there, princess? that what ya want?”

you nod without a second thought. you were trying your best to hold out for as long as your body allowed it — desperately wanting to reach your climax at the same time toji was going to — but the idea seems impossible the longer this continued.

your boyfriend grins smugly, raising his eyebrows before entirely removing his hands from your body. his arms rest behind his head as he reverts to simply enjoying the view of you riding him so well. toji can never not be mean to you. your little pouts only drive him to tease you more and more, “hm, well, ya see - i thought you were gonna spoil me today, not the other way around.”

“t-toji! tha's mean. . .” you huff, bottom lip trembling. your arms circle his neck and your upper body leans forward to rest against his chiseled chest. you stop your hip thrusts and instead grind against his pelvis, trying to stimulate your clit on your own.

toji clicks his tongue, but figured it was best to leave you be. he didn't want to be too rough on you today - you had been nothing but sweet to him the entire night. you had blessed him with his first, proper birthday experience as well.

“aww, my little girl ‘s pouting,” the older man snickers and his hands return to their place. he allows you to grind against him, the sensations being amazing for him as well. the tip of his cock almost reaches your cervix from the current angle and your bodily fluids smear all over his thighs and lower abdomen, “shh shh, ‘tis alright.”

your needy whines and moans are music to his ears. toji rubs your lower back and pats your ass every now and then, squeezing the soft flesh gently just to hear another whimper spill from your lips. there was no way you could hold back now. especially when your bodies were rubbing together and you could feel toji’s defined abs and hardened muscles underneath you.

“toji - nngh - can i? wan' — wanna cum.” your small hands tighten their grip around his broad shoulders. you earn a low, breathy chuckle from your lover. the increasing sensations in his lower stomach were an indication to how close he was to his orgasm as well. he wasn’t going to deny you any further.

toji sighs in content and presses a soft kiss to your temple, thumb rubbing your cheek gently. it was a rare occurence to see that vulnerable and affectionate look in his piercing green eyes. the little smile plastered on his face only added to the soft and intimate atmosphere.

. . . well, toji wouldn’t be toji if he wasn’t going to add catch you off guard in any way or form. your eyes widen and your body jolts forward as he suddenly starts putting work in—his hips ramming into yours from below, the skin-to-skin sounds resonating throughout the room once again. it was like the wind got knocked out of you for a good second, “fuck! w-wait, toji! tojitojitoji!”

the older man holds tightly onto you — cradling you in his arms as he lightly lifts your hips to have free reign over the pace and movements of your two bodies — thrusting up into you over and over. he lets out a series of small, silent groans as he feels his climax nearing;

“shit, yeah - ‘m gonna stuff this pussy of y’rs full, princess.” toji's callused fingers curl around your hip bones, using them as leverage to increase the intensity of his thrusts, “think you can take it all?”

you mewl and nod again and again. you’re on the brink of tears when the waves of pleasure reach their peak. your eyes roll back and your body convulses, legs shaking and squirming during those few seconds of pure bliss. your adorable babble in the form of toji’s name was all your lover needed to push him over the edge—

“fuck. ‘m gonna cum,” toji groans and firmly bites your shoulder to hold back any more noises when he finally decided to let go. a choked sob leaves your lips the instant you feel the hot spurts of cum seeping into your senstive cunt. the older man continues to thrust in and out sloppily, riding out his orgasm and fucking his cum deeper into you at the same time, “so good — i love you s’much.”

you smile exhaustedly at the love confession from your boyfriend. toji’s grip on you loosens up after he completely emptied his balls deep inside your cunt, his jaw finally unclenching. he plants a few wet kisses along the bite marks on your shoulder in attempt to soothe the pain.

you catch your breath as you rest on top of toji's body. he didn't put the slightest effort into pulling out of you — even as a tiny puddle of your mixed juices stains his skin.

“i love you too, toji,” you reply and earn another lazy kiss to your forehead. he rubs the back of your head and massages your plush thighs in a tender manner. nothing could make this moment even more perfect, you thought to yourself.

you smile as you pull your head back to look into toji’s eyes. he was already looking at you — admiring your gorgeous looks as you basked in the afterglow of your lovemaking. you capture his lips in a delicate kiss, “happy birthday.”

[seraphdreams]

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MEGUMI!" | MEGUMI FUSHIGURO.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃— synopsis. it would be so very cruel of you to not show your appreciation for your best friend, especially on his birthday.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃— cw. smut, college au, reader calls him “megs”, mention of “angelcunt”, unprotected love-making, bimbo!reader / best friend!megumi, a bit of asphyxiation, megumi with a crush! fingering, and praise. mdni <3

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃— word count. 1.7k, a quick read !!

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! hellooo !! it’s a real one’s birthday, this is the least i could do to celebrate. i’m trying to get back into the groove of writing again so stay tuned n ready 4 fics in the future !! sweet college au best friend megumi is always on my mind, something about a stoic but secretly in love trope .. (he’s no better than his father, sigh) .. as always, if you enjoyed this, please reblog / comment. i’ll bake u you’re favorite sweets if u do !! thank u ♡

megumi has always been there for you. through ups and downs, taxing breakups, even the times you’d get exceedingly inebriated and ramble endlessly about your ever-growing appreciation for him — there was no denying the cordiality he’d shown throughout the many years of your friendship. sure, he could be quite cold, maybe even grumpy; but that was just the joy of megumi fushiguro.

and for that, it’d only be right to repay him.

for all of the times he would show up uninvited to your dorm with the notes of the lecture you’d fortuitously missed, blaming the absence on the absurdly quiet lull of your alarm clock, or when he’d let you have the last bite of his food, because only god knows megumi was never above tolerating you. it’d be the work of a terrible friend to let it all go unnoticed, especially on a special day like today.

“happy birthday, megs!” there you stood,

bubbly and bright as ever, in the doorway of his bedroom, clad in nothing but a tiny pink pajama set with a top reigning transparency, it barely left the skin beneath to the imagination.

he had invited you, along with yuuji and nobara, over to his dorm the previous night to keep him company after class — which led to a kugisaki-induced movie marathon, and eventually phased out into the four of you passed out on the fushiguro’s couch, hues of light omitting from the colorful rays of the forgotten television screen and onto your slumbering faces.

with megumi holding the title of competency within the friend group, it came as no shock when he’d woken up the others to send them on their merry way. all except you, of course. the light throw-over blanket clinging to your body neatly as you slept, soft snores resonating within your being aided in megumi’s decision to give you a few extra minutes to rest.

he could never interfere with your comfort.

after your unanticipated birthday wishes, it took a moment for megumi to come to, blinking away his awareness for your scantily clothed body and opting for a more stoic expression.

“thanks,” he replied, tone low and clouded with an air of vague appreciation.

“wanna know what i got you for your birthday?” your query was that of a sing-song manner as you swayed in place. megumi was used to being around absolute rays of sunshine, but you? you were different. it was as if you were the sun itself; warm and inviting yet shone luminous enough to blind onlookers. you were tooth-rottingly sweet, and as bubbly as you were naive.

matters weren’t made any better forgoing the fact that megumi had true feelings for you. it was a running gag within your friend group, jokes that itadori and nobara would make concerning the contrast between megumi’s unwelcoming behavior when it came to them, and impassive patience had times fell upon you.

in fact, obliviousness was your specialty in being ignorant to the feelings of the fushiguro. it wasn’t your fault, you truly didn’t know.

megumi responds curtly, although with a hint of sarcasm, “a break?”

you pout as you rest your head against the lacquered doorframe, reigning defeated already despite the conversation barely racking up a minute’s time. “no, silly.” the words come out as a giggle. “i got you me!”

a hint of confusion glosses over his features before it morphs into that of a neutral expression. shirtless from his shower just minutes prior, and puzzled from what your mind had conjured up this time, he questions again. “you? you got me you?”

you shake your head affirmatively as he starts up once more. “and what do i do with you?”

clear as day, your exchange took a rather suggestive turn, one that neither of you were intending. “well, you can do a lot of things with me,” now stepping into the room to close the distance between your bodies, your response is thick with an air of lust that megumi noticed seemed to come naturally for you. his heart picks up in pace from the sight of your pretty face, and even prettier eyes looking vacantly into his, as if you weren’t aware of the trap you set up for yourself.

he brushed off the slight arousal brewing up within him, chose to play it off as mirth like he usually did when it came to you. “i guess so.”

you held onto his arm, a more distinct, yet adorable look of seriousness on your features. truly, you were a little doll. “i’m for real, megs. it’s your birthday, i’ll let you do anything you want.”

yeah. you’re really going to regret this one.

the word “anything” came with free reign. and even though megumi thought of himself as anyone but a pervert, he certainly was bound to start acting like one.

“anything?” his question came out as if he was treading lightly while he moved to dig through his drawer, perhaps looking for a shirt.

you stepped back to allow him the space of rummaging, while nodding your head and confirming his suspicions. “anything.”

“let’s fuck, then.”

his tone was nonchalant, easy on your ears as his speaking voice regularly sounded, and you would have missed his request had he not straightened up to search your countenance for an answer — deadpan, as if he hadn’t said a thing.

in that moment, all of what you hadn’t noticed, no. all of what you chose to deny had finally been put into perspective.

megumi fushiguro was fucking hot.

“i mean, if that’s what you want then i don’t mind.” your response was succinct, gentle on your tongue and provided him the response he’d been aiming for.

this might be his best birthday yet.

he strode closer to you in light steps before his large, glacial hand found its place on your cheek and silken lips met yours, pulling you into a salacious kiss filled with hunger and want. the press of his tongue begging to be allotted within the slot of your lips was accepted with your own muscle dancing against his. it was dizzying, and dissimilar. for all your years of knowing megumi, you would’ve never thought up the occuring situation.

lithe fingers danced up the skin of your thighs where you part them on instinct, allowing his digits to work on their own to slip past the barrier of elastic fabric and into your little lace panties, softly drumming along the puffy nub of your clit.

“megumi,” you rasp against his lips, swirling your hips over his hand to build up the sweet friction surging from your core. the saccharine croon of his name tasted sugary like vanilla rolling off of your tongue and onto his. he was in pure bliss; ready to take everything you gave to him.

his body responded to your need, fingertips at your clit circling tightly, an action that pulled a string of mewls from you before you gasped at the intrusion of his long fingers dipping into your core. they curled upwards against your gummy walls just until they increased in pace while his thumb pivoted at your sensitive nub, and fuck! where’d he learn how to do that?

he pulled away only slightly to read your expression, the tent in his pants growing taller, tip leaking carelessly at the onsight of your face, screwed taut in pleasure — plump, glossy lips that were slick with spit and moans slipping past without prevail.

underneath him, your legs felt feeble, as if they’d fall beneath you from the surgence of pleasure. “m-megumi, wait, ‘m gonna!-“ you held onto his shoulders for leverage, your warnings of orgasm falling on deaf, distracted ears, until finally, you were a gushing mess in his palm, coating his digits in your essence.

“fuck. you’re so pretty when you cum,” in that moment, he gave you no chance to react when he gently positioned you over his dresser, pulling down your little shorts until they pooled around your knees.

“y’made me so hard, y/n. can you feel it?” he grinded himself over the plush of your ass, teasing before pulling his sweats down just enough so that his hard, throbbing and leaking, length could be free. it bobbed ever so under its weight while one hand began to pump from base to shaft to soothe the excruciating ache. once he felt satisfied in his ministrations, he lined his cock along your awaiting slit.

“a condom, megs.” your reminder came in the form of a soft lull. after all, you two were just free-spirited college students, unable to pay the consequences of spontaneous actions. “don’t have any.” with that, he sunk his cock inside to the hilt, a low groan rippling from his throat at just how tight your pussy clamped around him. it felt like fucking heaven. he could die in your cunt and be at peace.

while you adjusted to the stretch, he began to move; slow, deep strokes as if he were savoring this moment forever. who knows when he’ll be able to have the luxury to sink inside your perfect angelcunt again? you bit your lip to stave off impending moans which ultimately failed when his arms snaked around your body — one hand underneath the cloth of your shirt and pinching at your perked nipples while the other finds its place right back at your clit.

“sh-shit!” you cry out, eyes rolling and mind hazy from the pleasure. his rhythm increased gradually until he built up a vigorous pace. “i’ve been needing y-you so bad.” megumi groans along the shell of your ear. how he got so lucky as to have his dream girl engulfed around his cock, he doesn’t know. all he’s aware of was the tightening of his abdomen, signaling his own impending orgasm.

white hot pleasure replace all feeling in your body, counting down its time until the familiar numbness washed over you in euphoria. a pitchy moan sounded from your lips and an even whorish whimper when the warmth from spurts of his cum coated your insides.

after what felt like a minute of the two of you recollecting your breaths, megumi finally pulled out, shuddering at the added stimulation at his oversensitive cock.

he leaned your head back to meet his lust-filled gaze; calmness of his deep navy orbs now deepened with sin. megumi pressed gentle kisses all over your face while his hands took purchase at your now, exposed, neck and squeezed tight enough to keep you lightheaded.

“you’re the best birthday present.”

[teamatsumu]

how about soft! dom xav (& rafayel if u want/can) with a shy, nervous reader?

warnings: fem!reader, smut, nsfw, swearing, soft!dom xavier and rafayel

XAVIER:

I firmly believe that Xavier is a soft dom more than anything else.

He is often unexpressive, withdrawn, and so it can be hard to tell what he is thinking or feeling. But this does not apply to you.

Xavier knows you are shy, and often get anxious. So he tries his best to communicate with you even if it is tough for him.

In bed, he can almost feel your apprehension. It hides in your tense muscles, every fiber taut and strained. He can sense your uncertainty, unsure of what to do, so he takes the lead.

He will maneuver you into a position he knows you would both enjoy, pinning you in place and making sure you are stimulated enough that all the worries dissipate from your mind until it is nothing but mush, focused only on how good his cock feels, the electricity shooting up your spine from how his thumb works your clit.

His lips are pressed close to the shell of your ear, and though he is not big on words, his moans of your name are answer enough.

“So good. You’re so good, darling.”

It’s simple words, but coming from him, they light a fire in you. They make you arch your back up to him, and Xavier hums in approval. He hooks his hands under your knees and pulls them up to your chest into a fucking mating press, until the angle has you creaming around his rapidly pounding cock.

And he will moan in tandem with you, almost as if deriving his pleasure from yours, and when he is close to finishing, he huffs in your ear about how he’s going to fill your pussy up and how you’re going to take it. Not a request, an order, and you comply enthusiastically.

Aftercare is detailed and delicate, with him running his hands over every joint he bent harshly, making sure he soothed your aches. Best believe he will run a bath for both of you to relax in as well.

RAFAYEL:

Let's establish one thing about Rafayel; he is a yapper.

He talks, and talks, and talks, and that includes bedroom activities.

During your first time, he can tell just how nervous you are, so his way of reassurance is with his words.

He’s always teasing, always sassy, but it dims when he sees your apprehension, and it is replaced with sweet encouragement, telling you just how much he loves you, or how pretty you are, or how he’s going to take good care of you.

He guides you through it, hoping that vocalizing will help you become more comfortable.

“Lay back for me baby, just like that. You look so pretty like this.”

As things start getting hotter and heavier, best believe the talking will get filthier. And his voice will get more and more broken.

“Such a pretty little pussy. Can’t believe you were hiding this from me all this time. My cock could’ve been buried in you a lot earlier if I knew.”

He guides you with gentle but firm hands into positions he knows will hit all the right angles, and while his cock has you mewling and squirming under him, his teeth nip at your jaw and neck, leaving tiny marks like he’s marking his property.

“Need everyone to know who you belong to, sweetheart. Nobody else is gonna fuck this little cunt. Only me.”

And it’s this dirty tongue and furiously pounding cock that pulls orgasm after orgasm out of you, cooing and crooning about how sexy you look and how he wants to immortalize you in a painting forever.

Aftercare is more lighthearted. Rafayel is back to his teasing, whiny self. He makes quips about how you moaned so good for him until you groan in embarrassment and try to push him away. He is undeterred though, he has ammunition to banter back and forth with you. Also, he made you cum so many times that you couldn’t even count. This man’s ego isn’t coming down to Earth anytime soon.

[kurosaaki]

THINKING ABOUT SOFT DOM!TOJI.

WARNINGS: smut—soft dom!toji, vaginal sex, big dick toji, creampie, unprotected sex, size kink (i guess?), praise, pet names (doll, baby, princess), use of ‘slut’ (twice), use of ‘bitch’ (once). this has absolutely no plot lol.

SUMMARY: toji is not known for being a gentle lover. but sometimes, once in a blue moon, it happens. the stars collide, the planets align and suddenly he’s treating you like his princess. don’t get too comfy tho, he’s still a bastard even in his softest moments.

TAGS: @driaswrld

A/N: my first jjk post ever ahhhh bye im doing cartwheels. reblogs are appreciated!

Toji's eyes softened as he watched the tiny tears welling in your eyes, realizing that the pleasure was almost too much for you to handle. He caressed your cheek gently, grazing your tears with his thumb.

"Shh, s’alright, doll," he whispered soothingly, his voice gentle and comforting. "I got ya. We can take it even slower…”

Toji began to withdraw, his movements feverishly slow and temptative, easing the pressure on your sensitive walls, making you feel a familiar warmness building up withing you.

His lips pressed against your forehead, his voice filled with reassurance. "Big breaths, doll. Feel it, let yourself adjust, baby. We don't have to rush…yeah, that’s it."

Toji wasn’t a very gentle lover when it came to sex. He was all about spanking, hair-pulling, light choking, hickeys, dirty talk…you name it. But once in a blue moon, he’d change his ways with you on the bed.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Shallow thrusts, small whimpers leaving your lips and his ragged breaths filling the room. Your wetness coating his cock, his balls sticking to your slick cunt with each thrust. It was all too good for you to not roll your eyes back in pleasure. He peppered soft kisses along your neck, his dark hair grazing your skin making you tickle.

You were in heaven.

“Toji— just like that, please…” You moan as he thrusts slowly, stretching your tight walls at a slow yet agonizing pace. Your legs locked around his waist, keeping him on a lock that’d drive him crazy as always.

“Like that, huh? Y’like this feeling, don’t ya?” he mumbles, “Being stretched up by me, gettin’ your pretty pussy pounded? Such a good slut. My good slut.”

You couldn’t help but let out small whimpers of pleasure, and his name slipping out of your lips like a prayer. It made him feel powerful. It made him feel like his only purpose was this— to make you drench in pleasure, to drive you over the edge of lustful insanity.

His lips curled into that well-known smirk of his as he listened to your pleas. He changed his pace, his thrusts slow and deliberate, relishing in the tightness of your walls, the way they clenched around him with each hard thrust.

He loved making you feel this way. He loved the feeling of your nails scratching his broad back—to see the marks the next morning—, he loved the way you arched your back as if to seek for more, he loved how you looked so tiny under the man he was.

He savored the feeling of your warmth enveloping him, the way you clenched around him like crazy in response to his movements.

His hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your sensitive bundle of nerves. He circled it slowly, teasingly, intensifying the pleasure that you were feeling

"Tell me, princess," he murmured against your lips, his voice husky. "Does this feel good, huh?"

“Feels so good. So good, Toji—feel so full” you moan at both the feeling of his fingers circling your clit and him inside you, “Oh, Toji, right there!”

Oh, how he loved hearing that.

His fingers continued to circle your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to send jolts of pleasure through your body. He increased the pace of his thrusts, his movements becoming more intense as desire coiled tightly within him as well.

"That's it, baby," he growled, his voice filled with raw desire. "Feel me, all of me."

His hips met yours, each thrust hitting that sweet spot that made your toes curl and dig your nails deeper onto his back.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "You're so fucking sexy when you're like this, doll. Moaning my name, begging for more. Like a bitch in heat”

There he is. No matter how loving, how patient, how smooth or how gentle he tries to be, he still has that demon inside him. You can’t blame him— because you like it.

His movements grew more forceful, his thrusts becoming harder and faster as he chased his own release, and yours as well. You could feel the familiar tightness coiling in you, driving you closer to the edge, making your walls squeeze him.

“Holy fuck, doll!” he gritted between his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them again,“You’re squeezing me s’tight, damn it— I’m not gonna last long if ya keep it like that”

He gripped your hips firmly, his hands guiding your movements as your legs locked around his waist. His thrusts grew more relentless, hitting deeper and harder with each stroke.

“T-Tojiii,” you whined, squeezing your eyes shut as you bit your lip, “I’m gonna cum! “Please, please— cum inside me!” you whisper, almost breathless as your mind tries to form sentences.

As your legs shake, he holds you steady, ensuring that you're fully supported as you feel the waves of pleasure crashing down onto you.

It’s not long before he breaths in sharply, a small grunt coming out of his lips as he feels he’s letting go as well.

His forehead rests on your shoulder as he gives the last sloppy thrusts, breathing fast as he cums inside you—just like you asked him to.

For a moment, time stood still as the intensity of your orgasms consumed you both. He was still inside you, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he tried to regain his composture, at least.

He gathered you in his arms, pulling you close in a tender embrace. "You were incredible, princess" he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "So fucking good. But we’re not done yet— just gimme 5 minutes and i’ll show ya more” he said, chuckling to himself.

Oh, you were in for another sleepless night.

[pirateprincessblog]

Killer Eyes

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: when a lowly prisoner's eyes meet the ones of a kind young woman, his heart fills with a will to live again

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: song mingi x fem!reader, ft jeong yunho (not a love interest)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 12.4k

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: smut, angst, prisoner!mingi, prisondoctor!reader, prison theme

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: masturbation, body worshipping, praising, size kink, possessive kink, marking, v-card loss, fingering, squirting, creampie

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: self h*rming, attempted s*icide, bullying, violence, swearing, r*pe mentions, unprotected sex

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: oh how i love angst and cliffhangers. also, the reader is not actually pictured as someone tiny or small, it's just the way mingi views her because of her kind nature.

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

it wasn't fair how slow the sun and the moon chased each other. how slow the shadows of the cold metal bars moved on the dusty floor. perhaps it was on purpose. perhaps it was their way of making fun of him. as if they knew just how long he was going to be a cuffed man, and they decided to make it just a little longer.

song mingi sat on his bed. the mattress was heavy from dust, dead skin cells and sweat. it smelled horrible, and whenever mingi would get the privilege of taking a shower, he would rather sleep on the floor, so he can feel cleaner. the floor was swept regularly, yet the smelly old mattress stayed the same.

mingi stared at a can of coke a fellow prisoner had smuggled him. it was empty, the sweet burning of the beverage running down his throat and getting rid of the summer heat for a while. now, his attention was on the cap. he has removed it, the small item ripping a part of the can and leaving it very sharp and dangerous. he played with it, spinning it between his fingers. little by little, he worked up the courage.

he brought the cap to his wrist, the metal cutting in like a knife in soft butter. he yanks it, ripping his skin apart and dripping red liquid down his hand and into his palm. he shook, watching the beads stain the floor. another one, then another one. tears roll down his cheeks, mixing with sweat and dust.

"fuck!" he yells, standing up and banging his head on the wall.

nobody understood. nobody knew what he knew. everybody held him accountable, but nobody knew why he did what he did. as if it was easy to have his hands stained with someone's blood, to have his sister stare at him with horror, to have his body dragged over the floor all the way to the police car, tears and blood dripping down his face. none of it was easy, but if he found himself in that situation again, he would do the same. it was the only way to save her.

loud thuds echoed in the room, startling the man and making him crawl to the corner. he sat, knees firmly pressed against his chest, and body shaking as he sobbed. the knocking on the door doesn't stop, and neither does the blood pooling on the ground.

"do i really need to come in today? you didn't have enough yesterday?"

at the mention of yesterday, mingi clenched his back. the cuts and bruises are still open, untreated, and probably infected. he spent the night pressed against the cold wall, in hopes to help relieve the pain.

the thumping stops, and mingi hears rattling, multiple keys turning, then finally, a familiar creak of the door opening. freshly polished black boots step into the dusty room. mingi has nightmares about those very same boots.

"stand up."

the man on the floor stills, sobs stopping for a moment. he comes to a realisation. yesterday's torture was going to happen again. and today, it might be the end of him.

"what are you, fucking deaf? stand up!" his voice roars, bouncing off the walls and travelling to mingi's already sensitive ears.

he sits still, vision blurry with upcoming tears. the boots take a few steps towards the man, stopping right before him. the guard sighs, then turns around. just when mingi wanted to sigh in relief, the boots are headed his way again, this time one of them aimed for his face. the pointy part of it hits mingi in the jaw, throwing his head against the wall.

"fucking rapist, murderer, manipulator, playing victim games with me?!" with each word, the guard proceeded to kick, punch and slap the man, taking great satisfaction in seeing blood drip down his face.

he pulls his hair, dragging his body across the dusty floor, until he is near the bed. the guard positions the man on his knees, back turned towards him, and head buried in the mattress.

"stop, stop!" mingi begs, gripping at the bed sheets stained with fresh blood and tears.

the fabric is ripped from mingi's body, exposing his massacred body to the one that massacred it. a finger trails down his spine, then suddenly, goes a different path. a deep scream leaves mingi's throat, his nails and teeth ripping the sheets apart, as the guard's finger dips into his wound, picking at it.

"stop, stop, stop!" he groans, mouth foaming from anger and pain.

"excuse me, what is going on here?"

a gasp, a cracking sound, and a scream later, mingi finally gets a second of peace. his teeth let go of the sheets, face relaxing into the somewhat soft surface.

"oh, doctor, please. don't you worry about it."

"that man needs help!"

"this man has his assigned doctor. besides, a newbie like you cannot handle a psychopath like him. you're better off with thieves."

"help"

his voice comes out raspy, tired and painful. he hoped that the person at the door would show mercy, and do as little as distract the guard for a while.

"i'm calling help, mr barnes."

"you do that and i'll smash your head right between this iron door and this stone wall."

mingi's vision is dark, his body collapsing from weakness. he lets go of the sheets, falling on his back and taking in his surroundings one more time. when his eyes land on the figure whose voice he heard today for the first time in his life, he is glad that you're the last thing he sees.

you're furious. you can't believe what this place has allowed to happen. judging by all of those wounds, this isn't the first time. and something tells you it won't be the last one either.

you are told to not sympathize with prisoners, they'll use you as a way out of this place. but how can you not sympathize, seeing the poor man covered in blood and scars, suffering new ones right in front of you? has anyone cleaned those wounds? washed up the blood from his body? assured him that it won't happen again? then did something to make it not happen again?

"i want a patient change."

"prisoner change, you mean?" the supervisor doesn't lift his eyes from the scattered papers on his desk.

"he's a human before everything, sir."

the man throws the pile of papers on his desk, letting out an exhausted huff. you're amazing at what you do, that he knows. but he also knows just how stubborn you are. and he has no patience to compete with you today.

"him being a human doesn't excuse the reasons why he's here, no?"

"i'm just a doctor–"

"–s assistant, yes." he finishes, giving you a tight smile. he stands up, his hands finding comfort in the pockets of the perfectly ironed suit pants. he stops right before you, looking at you as if you're not close to evaporating from anger right there in front of him. "mind your business, love. otherwise, you'll become a marionette in the hands of those criminals. inhumans."

"i am but just a doc–" you try again. a finger finds its way on your lips, catching you off guard and shutting you down.

"then act like it."

he turns on his heel, and in a short moment, he is back in his seat.

"jeong yunho!" your voice betrays you, and you immediately cover your mouth.

at the mention of his full name, he drops the papers once again. the chair falls back when he stands up again, this time marching towards you with a look that you know means trouble. he has you pressed against the wall, body hovering just a little above the ground. he is shaking, the angry veins on his neck popping and warning you to be quiet.

"sister dear, please, follow my instructions so you don't get yourself killed." he says through his teeth. you cough, your hands desperately trying to move his from your neck. "i don't want you to get involved with that part of this building. understood?"

you struggle to answer, so you opt for head nodding. his grip gets stronger, and you gasp, head falling back in hopes to get some sweet oxygen.

"understood?!"

"yes, yes–"

your body hits the floor, and stays there as you try to breathe normally. you're all red and sweaty, hair sticking to your face and your throat feeling as if you fell on needles with it.

"you," you breathe out, glaring at him from the floor," you absolute asshole."

"no matter the blood relation, i am still your supervisor. you take orders from me, and me only. you don't do reckless things, like playing an empath and falling right into the killers hands."

"i just want to help him heal physically. that's all."

"no need. he deserves everything he gets." he is firm with his decision, truly believing that a prison is a place of suffering, not healing and learning of a better life. "if i hear about you stepping foot into the H section, i will personally chain you up right next to him and make you watch."

"you're–" you start, tears spilling down your cheeks from defeat.

"a monster, yeah. very original. talk to me when you come up with a better one." he finishes for you, then sits at his desk again.

you stand still, hoping he might somehow change his mind. but how hopeful can you be, when he just choked you seconds ago? he looks up at you, making you twitch at the sudden eye-contact.

"dismissed."

days pass awfully slow, with you spending them in your office, buried in papers. you are holding a file. one that you borrowed from jeong yunho himself. the printer finally made a sound, letting you know that it is still alive and capable of the task you gave it.

a few duplicates land on your desk, and you swallow. the soft brown eyes look at you from a small picture, and it takes you back to the day you found him gripping the sheets and screaming in pain. your chest feels tight, and you feel the tears gather in your eyes again.

what could he have possibly done to end up in the H section? isolated from everyone except two guards, his doctor, and yunho. no proper food, no normal conversations, no clean water. just four stone cold walls, a dusty floor, and a probably bedbug infested mattress.

you return the file, making sure to position it right as you found it. you return to your desk, and breathe out. in the mugshot you have printed out, a bigger format than in the file, he has dried blood on his face, lots of bruises, and a cut on his lip and cheekbone.

your fingers brush over his lips, admiring the shape and volume. if only you could brush an alcohol dipped cotton ball over it, to clean his cut and feel him under your fingertips. the people of this building intrigue you. especially those who have done heavy crimes and believe they did the right thing. they have their own twisted belief of what's morally wrong and what is not. but this person is something that is reaching deep parts of your brain. it might be that you're only feeling sorry for the way he is treated, but either way, you want to know more.

your eyes look into his. a deep brown, anger evident in his gaze. in that moment, he also believed he did the right thing. maybe he believed now too, that's why he is being punished the way he is. this man might just be the most gorgeous one in this building, but if the guards and yunho keep it up this way, his pretty face will soon be butchered. you let out a huff, then proceed onto the next paper.

PRISONER INFO

name: mingi song

record id: ##############

nationality: korean 

gender: male

citizen: yes

eye colour: brown

hair colour: brown

dob: 09081999

age: 24

height: 183 cm

weight: 75 kg

ARREST & SENTENCING INFO

date: 25122022

charge: kidnapping, assault, voluntary manslaughter, domestic violence

summary: song mingi breaks into the song residence on christmas day, assaulting the partner of his sibling, in the process hurting the sibling and his mother. proceeds to lock himself in a house, threatening to commit suicide and dragging the victim with him. upon hearing the gunshot, the forces run in to find the victim laying with a hole in his chest, and song mingi with a gun in his hand. later on, the mother admits to domestic abuse going on at home, coming from song mingi himself.

you cannot believe your eyes. something smells funny in that paragraph, and you think you have just found yourself a new hobby.

the phone rings, startling you and making you drop the papers into a drawer. you clear your throat, then glance at the clock. it's been two hours since you started your mission, and during that time, you've done a lot of worrying and thinking. lots of it. so much, that you think they'll see the files through the phone. that's why you lock the drawer, before you swallow and pick it up.

"jeong office."

"i'll need you to cover for me today."

"doctor?"

"just do the hospital visits; draw some random check marks, and tell them to rest. do not interact with them more than necessary. i have someone else that needs taken care of."

it's like an early birthday present. to cover her means getting her chip. and to get her chip, means entering the H section. you are smiling, your gaze fixed on the locked drawer.

"hey." her voice is firm. she knows you're up to no good. "no funny business. i very much hate cleaning your messes."

"i grew out of it." you assure, opening the drawer and getting the picture out. you look at his eyes one more time. "nothing funny this time, promise."

"they aren't your level patients, but they're all cuffed, so no worries, doc." the kind guard assures, before opening the door for you.

you are in one of your usual institution uniforms, not the actual doctors one. if anything, your brother had a fashion sense. he demanded colour, and each outfit had to be approved by him before anyone could wear it. your heels click over the freshly mopped marble floor, the hot pink matching with the blouse and the lipstick. your white pants already had a small chocolate stain, which you so cleverly covered up with the silk bow from your new promotion bag. your freedom with outfits makes you feel powerful. as if you're working for a fashion or marketing company, not your brother's prison.

you hold the files tight in your hand, scanning the room in front of you. beds are lined up on each side, every single person cuffed to it. they are all in critical condition; from heart and lung diseases, to broken ribs and sewn faces.

"good morning." you try with a smile, and immediately regret.

they are all loud, trying to stand up and reach out towards you. you're lucky they're in bad shape and have elijah next to you, otherwise, you'd be dead meat by now.

"sit on my face, doc. guaranteed i'll feel better."

"no, sit on mine!"

"i'd rather her sit between my legs."

"i'd rather sit between her legs! ha!"

you're feeling dizzy and sick. they're not like your thieves and fighters from A section. these are real criminals. those who have killed, and will kill again if given the chance. you look back at the doors, making sure the guard is still there. the kind man nods towards you, as a way of assuring you that he will protect you if anything happens.

you do exactly as you were told; draw random check marks, tell them they'll get well soon, and move on. you try to ignore the awful sexual comments directed at you, but each one makes your stomach twist, and you can't wait to get out of here. you are ready to do so, when the guard comes to you.

"come here." he guides you to a door at the end of the room, entering first.

"what is it, elijah?"

the big man turns on the light, and carefully lets you in. your breath stops at the sight.

"he usually gets a detailed checkup, his state isn't the best. i went into his room at least five times today, he hasn't moved an inch. i know, i know, he's dangerous. just... i want to know he's okay."

and with that, he closes the door, leaving you alone in the room with one bed. a man lays there, a man whose face is now familiar in your eyes.

"song mingi." you whisper to yourself.

he is breathing through a mask, thin tubes connecting him to multiple devices. you sit in the chair next to his bed, and pull out a fresh white paper. the clock is ticking loudly on the wall, making it hard for you to focus on not doing anything stupid. he's there, completely exposed and vulnerable to you. and so fucking beautiful. even with the ugly mask on.

"i'm here to do a quick checkup on you instead of dr rachel maslow. i won't stay long, i know i'm disturbing you."

he doesn't move an inch. you gulp, then glance at the tubes connected to his arm. stupidly, you reach out to take his arm in your lap. you notice cuts, old and fresh ones. untreated. your thumb grazes over one, making him jolt and grab your wrist.

"fuck!" you jump, but his grip is strong, and holds your body in place.

you try to squeeze out, nails subconsciously digging into his wounds, trying to defend yourself, but only making it worse.

"let go of me," you beg, "you're hurting me!"

you gasp when he pulls you hard, your body falling over his. you're face to face with him, eyes looking deep into yours.

"imagine how it hurts me."

you gulp. you let go of his arm, hand slowly creeping into your pocket. he doesn't release your wrist, grip so strong it makes your skin lose colour.

"can you make my pain stop, doctor?"

"i'll do my best if you let go, mr song."

"the source of my pain, doctor. please."

your hand stops in your pocket. the injection is in your hand, ready to be used. and he seems clueless, or he knows, he is just used to it.

"you want me to find a way to stop the guard?"

"guard, doctor maslow, jeong yunho, everyone."

you stare in silence, words ringing inside your head. tears have become a regular visitor since you've started working for your brother, but it's always uncomfortable when they announce their arrival. your voice is stuck in your throat, and seeing the man so vulnerable at your fingertips, makes you want to take him into your arms and assure him that you'll protect him. the sun rays fall on him, brown eyes turning into gold pools of honey. he stares at you, eyelids half closed, and grip falling loose. you drop the injection in your pocket, body inching closer to him. an invisible force pulls you, but to tell the truth, you don't fight it. you help it, hand reaching to move the hair out of his eyes.

he exhales, eyes falling shut. you carefully monitor his body language, suddenly aware that you are in the presence of a prisoner after all. you almost choke on your spit, when you see a tear escape his closed eye and roll down his cheek.

"mr song?"

"god, that's the first time i didn't get hit for speaking."

he laughs, tears creating streams down his colorless skin. tears of joy, you guess. he is now staring at the white ceiling, laughing like crazy, an occasional sniff interrupting him. his eyes lock with yours, causing you to twitch at the sudden emotion change. his lip twitches, tears of sadness replacing the ones of joy. your heart breaks at his state, but there's only so much you can do right now, and that is to sit and listen to his side of the story. the justice is in yunho's hands. in wrong hands. maybe better. if it were in yours, you'd set everyone free.

"i forgot what it feels like to be a human. it's been years."

"i'm sorry." you say, aware that yunho has forbidden you to use those words with prisoners.

at this point, you are doing everything that he has forbidden you. talking to patients that do not belong to you, entering places you're not supposed to, physical contact with someone from a restricted section, stealing his files, and whatnot. mingi has taken comfort in keeping your wrist secure in his hand, and is breathing normally again.

"i'm not asking to get out of here. all i ask is to be treated like a human. why is a child molester better treated than someone who just wanted to protect his family?"

"because the world is a rotten place, mr song."

"mingi," he exhales.

"i'm not supposed to-"

"please."

you gulp. one of the rules is also to not get comfortable around them and have them call you by your first name, or call them by their first name. but how can you decline such a polite request?

"okay, mingi."

his name rolls off your tongue like it was made up to fit you. his lips twitch in a weak smile, and his grip on your wrist loosens.

"is there... a chance that i could have you as my doctor?" he asks.

"i don't think so. dr maslow is quite persistent when it comes to, well-"

"dangerous criminals, yeah. i figured."

he exhales, defeated. you want it, you really do. but going against your colleague means going against yunho too, and you do not have the energy for that. not yet.

"but i will do my best to somehow ease the situation for you. maybe move you to another cell?"

"i think the bed bugs will evolve into a new type of dinosaur before i get a new cell. i am fine with it, really. i don't need anything materialistic. only a meal and proper healthcare. that's all i ask."

your heart feels heavy. it really is cruel how child molesters and cold blooded serial killers and rapists are treated better. the place is a sinking hole, and you alone cannot change anything. it is only a matter of time when someone dies from all this cruelty going on. knowing your brother, he could easily cover it up. now that you think about it, it could've already happened, and you know nothing about it. that's how immoral this place is.

"i will do my best to provide that." you assure him, then try freeing your hand from his.

he tenses up, immediately grabbing you back and opening his eyes to look at you, pure fear transforming his face.

"mingi, you will have to let me go."

"just a bit more, please."

"i'm sorry, i can't. if i'm not back in the office in the next fifteen minutes, this might be the last time you see me. just let me do a quick check-up and then you can continue your rest."

the man immediately lets go of your hand, laying still in the bed. you take the time to check his tubes, and write up a quick description of the state he is in.

"lift your shirt up for me, please?"

he does it, wincing in pain as he moves his arms. sore muscles, you conclude. no visible bruises or cuts other than the cuts below his elbow. your eyes scan his torso, and you sigh with disappointment when you examine it closely. he is poorly wrapped up in bandages, blood seeping through it and onto the shirt and thin blanket he was covered with.

you stand up, rolling his shirt up further. his body emits warmth and caresses your fingers as you work on him, making you slightly flushed. even though his state is awful, you cannot help your own feelings. he is a gorgeous man, with the warmest eyes you've ever seen in your life. and right now, you are about to touch his bare skin. it is only normal for the swarm of butterflies to act this way in your stomach.

you start unwrapping his bandage, and he hisses under your touch.

"you'll have to sit up for me. can you do that?"

"i think so." he says, voice raspy from pain.

he sits up, and holds his shirt up so you can work easier on him.

"good job," you say, smiling at him as encouragement.

he smiles back, his eyes forming crescent moons. he almost doesn't feel the pain anymore, his whole focus shifting on the way your hair falls over your eyes as you remove the stained bandages. he can almost feel your kindness wrap him in a big warm hug, and he wishes the feeling stays there forever.

"you're pretty." he blurts out.

"huh?" you say, not sure if you heard him right.

"nothing." he says, cheeks red with embarrassment.

"i thought you said something about me being ugly?" you poke, a playful smile on your lips.

"no, no! you're very pretty, that's what i said." he repeats himself, cheeks so warm he looks feverish.

"thank you, mingi. you're very sweet."

you finally take a good look at his wound. two open lines decorate his torso, remains of dried blood splattered around them.

"oh, god. what is this?"

"that would be a belt." he says, as if it the most normal thing in the world.

"a belt?!"

"a high quality one, too. managed to break my skin. it doesn't do that usually."

"usually," you repeat, scoffing in disbelief.

you are utterly disgusted by everyone at this point. the guards, the doctor, other prisoners, your brother. you are sick and tired. no man deserves this.

"and what about this? does this hurt-?"

"ow!" he jumps in the bed, body running away from your touch.

your fingers retread from his body. the area on his rib cage is slightly deformed and bruised, and judging by the intense reaction made from a light touch, it could mean a broken bone.

"i'll write you down for an x-ray, okay? this doesn't look good."

"x-ray? what could it be?"

"probably a fractured bone. i'll get you fixed, don't worry."

he seems very nervous, eyes big with concern and curiosity as he tries to read what you are scribbling down on your notes. you check the time, and when you realize that you have stayed here longer than you should've, you hurriedly stand up, collecting your things.

"so, uh..." he trails, hands still holding his shirt.

"oh, god, i'm so sorry. right."

your fingers tremble as you search the room for new bandages and wiping alcohol. you are very late, and considering that both yunho and rachel know where you've gone, they could barge here any second now. and mingi will be at fault again. there is no time for you to be as gentle as you wanted to be with him. your heart feels heavy each time you swipe the cotton on his skin and you hear him hiss and flex under your touch. you are nearly done, all that's left is to put fresh bandages on him and check his tubes before taking a few more notes and leaving.

"are you eating properly?"

he chuckles, but not the funny chuckle. the tired, sarcastic chuckle.

"sorry. i forgot that your section is..."

"a shithole, yeah. i eat four to five spoons of lentils, and two cups of water a day. three if i've been good. which is confusing, i always try to be good. he just-" mingi stops, biting his lip.

he has said too much already. he doesn't want to bother you. after all, you are here just to do your own job. not save him.

"just what?" you ask, curiosity overshadowing the fear from your brother.

"nothing."

"you can tell me." you push.

the man stays silent, eyes fixed on the ceiling. he isn't showing any intention of answering your question, or speaking further. he has exposed himself too much, and now you can sense him pulling his walls up.

"mingi..." you start, trying to tell him that you understand and won't push him harder. but he doesn't let you finish.

"i said nothing! get out!" he yells, making you jump from the chair.

his eyes are wide, bloodshot. they are glossy, and you realize that he wants you out of the room before he breaks down. he doesn't want to cry in front of you again.

"i'll be back for that x-ray. i'll also try to get you proper food so you can heal."

you see remorse on his face, but he doesn't say anything. he is overwhelmed with emotions. he feels sadness, anger, and sudden comfort coming from a new person. it is a rollercoaster of emotions, and he doesn't know how to navigate it. it is best to leave him be before he explodes.

"take care." you give him a smile, and finally leave for your office.

a week later, song mingi exits the x-ray room. he is disappointed, his eyes not able to find your face behind the glass among the doctors. maybe you were there, but hid from him. after all, he did yell at you last time he saw you. he couldn't help it. he was scared of anyone and anything at this point, no matter how tough he tried to act. song mingi is just a flower who has surrounded himself with a walnut shell.

the man furrows his eyebrows, seeing that the guards are guiding him to a lower level of the building. then, when he musters up enough courage to ask where they're taking him, the words stop in his throat as his eyes fall on your figure. he smiles, so wide that his cheeks hurt. you smile back, and as you approach him, he is reminded just how beautiful you are.

"good morning, mingi."

he hated his name. it was screamed and drenched in pain and sorrow many times before he ended up here. you saying it, it felt like the name was just given to him. like he had no awful history behind it.

"answer when someone talks to you." the guard hits the back of his head, and the smile disappears off his lips.

"good morn–"

slap. 

mingi looks up, terrified. he looks over at the guard who hit him, only to find him holding his cheek and looking down at your shoes.

"do not, ever, and I mean ever, do that again. did I make myself clear?"

the guard nods, gaze still fixed down.

"did I make myself clear?!"

"yes, yes! perfectly clear."

mingi is mesmerized by your sudden surge of confidence. he saw you as an innocent young woman, gentle and quiet. this, however, didn't shut down the growing interest he has for you. in fact, his heart beat just a bit faster when his eyes met yours. the transition from tough to soft gaze when you finally looked at him had him blushing hard.

"you feeling alright?" you tilt your head slightly, trying to properly look at him.

his head still hangs a little low, too afraid to cross a boundary with his staring and overly friendly smiles. he nods, then slightly bows his head as a thank you.

"that's good to hear. I managed to get you a better cell for your recovery. if you continue being a good boy, they'll let you stay."

you say it playfully, but mingi is ashamed by the twitch in his pants once the words leave your mouth.

a good boy.

he'll be the goodest boy ever for you. just to see you proud of him. after all, it is your work reflecting on him. he will help you leave a good impression in this hellhole. and, if he's lucky, he'll keep you as his doctor.

"right, then. I'll come and visit soon, I hope. take care. and take your medications!"

he nods again, suddenly unable to speak. he wanted to say so much. he wanted to drop on his knees and thank you. he wanted to feel your hands on his face again. but he soon realises just how unprofessional that is. he would rather only secretly glance at your figure one more time, before the guards drag him to his new home.

he is thrown on the floor, the humiliated guard landing kicks all over his freshly bandaged torso. blood seeps through them again, staining the new prisoner uniform you have gotten him.

"piece of shit, that's what you are. no fucking dinner for you, you pig."

but mingi did not care. he stayed on the floor, not bothering to check out the new cell he was given. he only stared as the heavy doors shut, listening to multiple locks turning, before he smiled to himself like a crazy man.

you looked stunning in your blouse. purple is your colour, he concludes.

in the morning, mingi finds himself laying on a soft surface. he opens one of his eyes, the light too strong for him to handle. he sits up, rubbing his eyes, before feeling discomfort in his lower body. he looks down, and soon enough discovers why it feels that way. his crotch is a sticky mess, and it feels hot.

he wonders how that happened. he fell asleep from exhaustion and pain last night, on the floor. he knows he didn't jerk off. and he knows for sure he didn't willingly climb on the bed. now, he either came in his sleep on the floor and humiliated himself when someone transferred him, or he came peacefully in the bed after the transfer. either way, his brain works hard to figure out the reason of the relief.

he barely manages to glance around the room, taking in all the sunlight, before the doors open. then, as soon as you walk in, he is reminded how the mess spawned in his underwear and all over his pants.

your sighs against his ear, your skin under his fingertips, your warm walls swallowing his hard cock. that's why he didn't hear the three knocks for breakfast in the morning. and that's why he didn't feel the transfer to the bed. all because he was having wettest dreams about you.

his jaw is slightly hanging, seeing you approach him so cheerfully. you are wearing a dress, past the knees length, with long flowy sleeves. he spends a few seconds memorizing every curve of your body, so he can inappropriately think about you after you leave. you are lovely, kindness embodied, and as pretty as the first cherry blossom in spring. mingi wishes he could keep you in his cell, just so that he can look at you and feel safe.

he lowers his gaze, scared that you might see in his eyes exactly what he is thinking about. but you grab a chair, and sit in front of him. your finger find a spot under his chin, gently guiding him so that he can look at you.

"you're not supposed to-" the guard steps forward, in case mingi tries something.

"shut the hell up."

the man on the bed had to fight the urge to laugh in the guard's face. he loves your fierce side. as long as he doesn't get on it, it's hot. way too soon, your hand leaves mingi's face. you flip through your notebook, scribbling something down.

"that lip cut looks new." you comment.

"uh, yes." he confirms, scratching his neck.

"cole?"

"yes, doctor?" the short male answers.

"you don't happen to know where mr song got that cut, do you?"

"no, doctor." the guard lies easily to your face.

"okay."

mingi doesn't say anything, in fear of you more than the man behind you. but you only give him a sweet smile, before writing into your notebook again. the pen glides so smoothly on the paper, and maybe he was just smitten, but mingi swore that he never saw such pretty handwriting.

"here's your medication."

you hold out a singular blue pill, waiting for him to take it. he does, unsurely popping it into his mouth, and then takes the water bottle that stood untouched on his nightstand. your intense gaze makes him accidentally spill it all over his t-shirt, and before he can start apologizing, you take the bottle and close it for him.

"good job. you'll heal in no time." you encourage, then hand him a towel.

"thank you." he finally says something without mumbling or stuttering.

"no, no. thank you, for being cooperative and not giving me headaches. like some people." you look over at the moody guard.

the young prisoner smiles, knowing that it will probably earn him a kick or two as soon as you leave. you stand up, closing your notebook.

"get him new pants." you casually comment, and mingi immediately feels his ears heat up from embarrasment.

"i'm so sorry-" he apologizes, again and again, until your hand finds its place on his to stop them from flapping around while explaining.

"stop apologizing for everything. and i better see you in the canteen for lunch soon. got it?" you playfully demand.

"canteen?"

"yes. i worked something out and got you access to the canteen. you can't heal from lentils only."

and with another smile, you are gone.

canteen. he hasn't seen that place for years now. he barely remembers the taste of real meat and potatoes. but he vividly remembers the cold silver tables and stools. the very tables where he got thrown on and beat lots of times, by both guards and prisoners. all because he didn't want to share his bread or give away the little earning of the day he had made. eventually, they stopped letting him into the canteen, simply because his presence alone would cause chaos. he was everybody's punching bag, and as much as he cried of hunger at nights, he would rather stay in the safety of the four walls. well, partial safety. one bully is still better than twenty.

the next few weeks, you visit him often. to give him the blue pill, hype him up, and treat to his wounds. he has healed nicely, and you are proud of him. he is mostly silent, except when he thanks you or apologizes to you. he still doesn't have enough courage to leave the cell to get himself food, so he settles for lentils for two more weeks. until you've had enough, and scold him.

"your progress is going awfully slow, and you're making it harder for me. please go eat something."

"okay," he finally agrees.

he doesn't get to know about you much. you are there only for a few minutes a day, but even that is better than nothing. he gets to stare at you as you write into your notebook, and each night when his hand travels down his pants, his image of you is more and more vivid.

with new fresh pants and a t-shirt, song mingi finally walks up to the canteen doors. he sees so many people, ones he has known, and ones he will get to know. the loneliness is slowly vanishing, but the anxiety is just announcing its arrival. mingi is swallowed by fear. he doesn't want to let you down, but what will he do if someone decides to test him? will he have enough self control?

"you're not getting married, you're just getting food. get in." he is pushed through the doors.

the smell of fried chicken and soup fills his nostrils, and his stomach grumbles in anticipation. his legs carry him to the waiting line, hands already grabbing an empty tray. he blends in so easily, like he was here every day. he announces his order to the kind lady that has always liked him and given him the best piece of meat, feeling fully confident in himself. the lady smiles widely at him, and mingi is happy knowing that he has two people caring about him.

he takes a seat in the empty corner by himself, eyeing the warm soup. finally, he dives in. the liquid drips down his chin as he eats like a starved man, the chicken flavour melting on his tongue. he is lost in the joy of eating, he almost doesn't notice a hand grabbing the chocolate muffin off his tray. but he does, dropping the spoon in the already empty bowl.

"well, well. lookie here."

three men surround his table, each sending him smirks and glares. mingi isn't scared of them anymore. he won't give them a reason to be a threat. for you.

"oh, sorry, were you gonna eat that?" the bald one speaks with a stuffed mouth. chocolate bits fall on the table, making mingi grimace in disgust.

"no, you can have it." he simply says, then moves on to his fried chicken.

"oh?" the men look at each other, surprised by how calm he is. three years ago he would've gone feral on all of them, giving the whole canteen a reason to start a chaos. all for a piece of pork.

"did you want my juice too?" the young man holds the little box of apple juice out for one of them to take.

they're all puzzled. just what was happening in section H that made mingi calm down like this? or was this his new strategy? what exactly was in that apple juice?

"cut the shit, asshole. let's relive some memories, shall we?" the taller one grabs mingi by his collar, dragging him up so that he stands.

"i'd rather not. not in the mood. another day maybe?"

"oh, another day? so you're back for a longer period, huh?"

"hope so." he genuinely says, looking around the place.

"aren't you a dove. almost makes me feel sorry for what i'm about to do to that pretty face."

the third man suddenly starts tapping their shoulders, looking behind at the doors opening. mingi is dropped on his stool, all forgotten. the three men don't move away from his table yet, but their attention remains on the people that have just walked in. and when mingi finally sees it too, his mind and heart have a very difficult time.

jeong yunho, dr rachel maslow, and you, walking peacefully to the end of the line, each grabbing a tray.

"i thought they had their own fancy ass canteen?"

"they do. i don't know what the fuck kinda experiment this is, but i'm not liking it."

"i don't know about you, but i'm liking the view of the chick."

"you think if we kill that asshole that we can escape? i mean, he's right there."

"nah, he's invincible. remember that guy who tried to stab him with scissors? the bastard survived even that. i heard he keeps the scissors framed in his office."

mingi eavesdrops further, in hopes of getting information he can forward to you. but his ears pick up something that itched a certain part of his brain. a click, which set his old self free.

"maybe see how useful his sissy is and serve him her head when we're done with her?"

"i'd rather her give me a head."

"i heard she's a virgin."

"aw, i get to be her first and last!"

mingi sees red. his hand grips the empty soup bowl, and his teeth are biting the insides of his cheeks. he looks at you as you get your own food, walking with such elegance that every woman on the planet should envy you. and then, he sees you naked, scared, in the hands of these awful men. he sees your big, scared eyes looking up at him and silently begging for help, while the laughter of the three men rings in his ears.

one thought leads to another, and mingi does exactly what earned him the section H. he loses himself to his overthinking and rage. his hand smashes the bowl on the head of the bald man, his other hand soon grabbing his throat. 

"i'll keep her safe," the young prisoner mutters, looking into the man's eyes as he fails to beg for mercy.

mingi's fingers dig into his neck, as if trying to rip his throat out. he feels punches on his shoulders and back, and when the man in his hands finally collapses, he turns around. he lands a punch into one's nose, sending him back a few steps. he turns towards the third one, the one who made a comment about being your first and last.

"i'll keep her safe," he repeats, this time louder. he marches at the man, biting into his throat and ripping out a chunk of meat. red liquid drips down mingi's chin, but he isn't bothered. his fingers dig into the scrunched body, holding it in place so that it doesn't run from the death grip that is song mingi.

"what the fuck?!"

"oh my god!"

"who let him in here?"

"run!"

"get dr rachel!"

his ears are ringing, and his vision blurs. but he still doesn't stop, not until life fades from the men's eyes and they lay on the floor, painting the floor red. he isn't sure how long he stays there kicking their bodies, smashing their limbs and ribs, until a pair of hands grab him by his shoulders.

he kneels down by force, the brand new uniform drenched in the blood he spilled. your face appears in his frame, and he sees that you are kneeling, just like him. you are speaking, but he doesn't hear a thing. only the distant echo of their laugh, and your silent pleas for help. he looks down on the floor, and feels terrible guilt when he sees that your dress is  slowly turning red.

"safe..." he whispers.

jeong yunho holds the man in place, while dr rachel fidgets with something in her hands. you send him a confused look, not knowing what the word safe means in this situation. you want to help him, you truly do. but he makes it very difficult.

"i'll keep you safe," he says again, more to himself than you.

"safe from what, mingi?"

"i'll keep you safe."

his body loses strength under yunho, dr rachel already pulling an empty injection from his arm. he is dizzy, but his eyes don't leave yours. he uses his last ounces of strength to smile at you, before collapsing.

"see what he's capable of? you still want to go play good doctor with him?"

dr rachel scoffs, throwing the injection in the trash bin. yunho doesn't speak. he walks around his desk, hands behind his back. he is probably thinking of ways to punish you. but you couldn't care less about what happens to you. you need to know that mingi is alright before everything. then, you need to know what caused the outburst.

"this isn't a fanfiction, you can't change him. he's locked in section H for a reason, and you stay away from those sections for a reason. i do not want you near him again."

"that isn't your call to make." you spit at her, then look over at yunho with anticipation.

"mr jeong?" she searches for support.

but he remains silent.

"so what? you granted him access to the canteen, then brought me there just so i could witness him going feral? you planned it all?"

"shut up."

"you sent those men at him, didn't you? you wanted to create a problem..."

"shut up."

"...so that mingi acts up. and when he does, rachel will prove that i am not capable..."

"shut up."

"...of taking care of such high level criminals, and you'll go back to your bullying ways again uninterrupted. is that what-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

yunho throws the lamp from his desk right at the wall beside your head.

"fuck!" he kicks the little coffee table in front of his desk, flipping it and spilling the cold coffees all over the carpet. "fuck, fuck, fuck!"

tears stream down your face from fear. each time you see him recently, he has less control. it isn't your brother anymore. it's just mr jeong.

"i will say this one more time, and if you bring me into a situation where i have to repeat myself, i swear to god, i will fry his brains in front of you. you'll see him on that electric chair every time you close your eyes, and you'll hear his screams every time you go to sleep at night. i will make the experience so traumatic and gruesome for you that you will need not two, not three, but ten fucking psychiatrists to heal you! you will stay the fuck away from him, stay the fuck away from my files, my prisoners, my business, and my way of doing things! if i see you, no, if i even hear possible rumors that might not even be true, that you stepped foot - not in the cell, but in the section - i will personally serve you his long suffering and death. and i'll enjoy every second of it. have i made myself clear?"

your jaw hangs low, blood running cold in your veins. pure venom drips from yunho's lips, and it makes your stomach sick. you feel like throwing up. he turns around at your lack of response, marching over to you. you run, squealing. hiding behind the armchair, you shield yourself from the person that possessed your brother.

you nod frantically, trying to swallow the lump of pure fear in your throat.

"i don't want to see your face anymore for today. or tomorrow. get lost."

and you obey, running past him and into the hallway. you struggle to catch your breath as you reach your office, and once you're safe behind the locked doors, you finally let it out. you sob, whimper, fingers reaching into the drawer to pull out his picture. the kind brown eyes look at you from the paper, and it only makes your chest hurt from the upcoming sobs.

"i'm sorry," you say, as if he can hear you.

days turn into weeks, and you are scared to even look at the sign that says section H. dr rachel has her eye on you, and you don't dare disobey. you work with a lifeless expression, mind and heart drained of the will to live. guilt is eating you inside out, and it's killing you that you can't ask anyone about mingi's wellbeing.

you haven't seen yunho since that day. and you don't think you have the strength to. you hate him. you hate what he's done with this place. you hate that a place of rehabilitation has turned into one of torture. and you hate that he's corrupted all the other workers. is it the pay? is it their equally fucked up morals? how can all of them be alright with it?

"doctor?"

you turn around, expecting to be given more news about ill prisoners. the flu is spreading like crazy the past two days. but when you see elijah approaching you, your heart flutters. he is usually unreachable, always roaming the forbidden section.

"how is he?" you ask before thinking.

elijah looks around for you, and when he makes sure that he coast is clear, he lowers his voice.

"not bad, but not good. he is holding on."

"how are his injuries? anything new?"

"barnes is beating the life out of him for every little thing he does. so he decided to go on a strike and just sit in the corner all day and all night. he doesn't eat, barely sleeps, and started harming himself worse than before. he wants to die, doctor."

you feel your heart dropping low in your chest, and it hurts. you wanted to help him, and look what you did.

"don't blame yourself. he did it to himself." as if he knew what you were thinking, elijah interrupts.

"he was talking about... safety? do you have any idea what that might've been?"

"keep you safe, that's what he keeps repeating. apparently, he heard a few guys talk bad about you, planning to do something to you, and he lost it."

"i need to see him."

"no."

"make it happen, please. please, elijah."

"all three of us will lose our heads, doctor."

you feel your cheeks become wet, your vision getting blurry. putting your palms together, you beg. "please. for just a second. and then i'll never ask for him again. never think of him."

elijah exhales. "fine."

at exactly two o'clock in the morning on a sunday, you walk barefoot down the hallways, like a ghost who haunts a castle. successfully avoiding guards, you slip into the H section, scanning elijah's code on the hallway doors and letting yourself in. the heavy door waits for you at the end of the hall, mysterious and inviting. mr barnes is not in his usual position, meaning elijah has found a way to distract him. you had exactly fifteen minutes, and five have already passed.

hurriedly, you scan the code again, then as quiet as possible turn all the locks. your breath stops once you get in, the smell of sweat and blood hitting your nostrils. then, you see him. curled up on the floor, holding his head, knees to his chest. sobbing, fingers pulling his hair, and shivering.

you feel the dusty floor under your bare feet, and wonder if the room ever gets swept. it looks the same as when you first found him. slowly approaching, you try not to startle him. he doesn't know that you are coming, and one wrong move could send you flying into the wall. you saw what he was capable of, like dr rachel said. but you also know he doesn't do it for no reason. treat him like a human, and he will do the same.

"mingi," you call in a whisper.

his sobs quiet down, and shivering stops. he sits up, back still turned towards you. the hallway light poorly illuminates it, open wounds on his skin making your heart sink.

"you shouldn't be here," he says, voice raspy.

"sorry, i- i had to. i had to make sure you're okay."

"well, i'm not."

you don't know how to respond. you can see that he is not, you just don't know how to help. there is no time. so you settle for a simple shoulder touch, which he doesn't reject.

"i know. i'm sorry." silence swallows the room. mingi doesn't move. he doesn't remove your hand from his shoulder either. with a gulp, you continue. "can i see you? please?"

when he doesn't budge, your other hand finds its way on one of his wounds. immediately, you realize your mistake. the man stands up before you get the chance to properly feel his rough skin under your fingertips, grabbing you by your neck and slamming you against the wall. your toes barely touch the ground, and for a split second, you are back in the room with yunho doing the same thing to you. only this time, the man in front of you has a full right to do so. you violated his privacy, and he reacted.

"i'm sorry," you choke out.

you sound pathetic to yourself. apologizing three times under five minutes, and still breaking boundaries.

"i don't want... i don't want to hurt you." his grip softens, and he slowly lets your feet touch the ground. "i want to keep you. i want to- i need to have you."

his voice fades as his gaze falls on your lips. you are unsure what he means, considering that he is still holding your throat, but his gaze is locked on your lips. he gulps, then looks into your eyes intensely, making you subconsciously clench your thighs. you feel a rush in your lower stomach, one that you're not sure you've ever felt.

"can i? please?"

"i'm not sure what you mean, mingi." your voice is a whisper, afraid that if you speak louder you'll spook him away.

"i just- let me put it this way. i want to thank you."

"for what? i've done nothing but cause you trouble."

"i've caused it myself. i did it to myself. you only helped me. you healed me, treated me with kindness, and i'd like to repay."

a sudden creak from the hallway makes both of you jump, and you run into the corner behind the door. mingi follows, putting his hands on the wall beside your head and shielding you with his body. footsteps approach, and almost get to the unlocked but closed doors, then stop.

"barnes! care for a drink?"

"i'm doing checkups. besides, with you, elijah? no thanks."

"come on. now that we work in the same section, how about we bury the axe? besides, i did the checkups already. it was my turn anyway. we should be good for half an hour."

"you paying?"

"sure am."

"then what the fuck we waiting for?"

the footsteps slowly drift away. and you thank elijah for his quick thinking and buying you time. your attention is on mingi again, whose eyes are still fixed on your lips.

"my savior,"  he says, hand gently cupping your jaw and thumb caressing your cheek.

"you're exaggerating. i barely did anything to help you. i got you into bigger troubles than you started with and-"

mingi doesn't hesitate anymore. he leans in, still tilting your jaw so that you're almost at his level, and softly presses his lips into yours. you stand there, wide eyed, still processing what's happening. it isn't until mingi presses his body against you, trapping you between one cold wall and one warm one that you finally relax in his arms. you're not sure what to do, or what to feel. you're being kissed and held by a prisoner, and not just any prisoner. the prisoner that is considered one of the most dangerous ones in the whole building. and you're enjoying it. why else would your stomach feel like hot magma waiting to burst.

sensing your frozen state, mingi pulls away. his other hand rests on your waist, fingers subconsciously drawing patterns over your blouse. "let me thank you, doctor. please."

"i'm not sure i'm familiar with this type of thanking," you admit, your cheeks heating up.

his eyes change, from soft to hard, and you're not sure what to feel. yet again.

"so it's true."

"what is?"

"you're a virgin."

"well... yeah, i mean. yes. does it matter?"

"then, the gratitude i had in mind falls off."

oh. oh.

"you should go back before they return. or before i lose my mind."

"no, wait! we have a little less than thirty minutes, i didn't go through all this trouble just to go back."

the young man lays down in bed, hissing a little when his back makes contact with it, then folds his arms over his chest in protest.

"don't be a brat. i came to see you."

"and you did. i'm fine. now go."

"why are you like this suddenly?" your eyes start burning, tears gathering in the corners and blurring your vision. there's a lump in your throat, and no matter how hard you try, it's hard to swallow it. "you're mean to me, when you yourself said that all i've done is help you. make up your mind, do you hate me, or do you like me? do you want me close, or not? do you-"

"what i want is out of line and question. so the next thing i want is naturally for you to leave." he looks at you, almost glaring, before adding, "please."

"don't make this difficult. tell me, and i promise, i'll leave you alone. you'll never hear from me again."

he lays in silence, eyes closed. as if that will make you leave. instead, it brings out the stubbornness and braveness in you, overshadowing your fears. you know what he wants. you are a virgin, but not stupid. if you weren't sure, the obvious bulge in his pants makes it clear. without much thinking, your fingers start unbuttoning the purple blouse, revealing the black bra underneath. you don't take it off, instead leaving it to hang off your shoulders.

mingi's eyes open when he senses the mattress dipping, then a warm body hovering over him. he feels your warm crotch on his naked torso, your skirt hiked up and your bra exposed.

"i can't."

"why not?"

"i'll hurt you. and i already did that tonight, and i won't do it again."

"maybe i want to be hurt."

"you don't mean that. trust me, you don't mean that."

your hands take his cold ones, guiding them so that they rest on your waist. your body shivers at the cold touch, but you don't remove them. instead, you guide them higher up, until his big hand covers your breast. he gulps under you, afraid to move.

"i'd break you."

you lean in, capturing his lips in a kiss. this time, you are more confident, and allow yourself to swipe your tongue across his plump lips. he responds, biting softly into your bottom lip and tugging it, gently sucking on it and licking it. you shiver in his hands, from pleasure more than from the cold. you finally pull away, a string of saliva connecting your lips in a way so erotic that you haven't seen it in movies even.

"please do." you finally respond, a whisper into his mouth.

"and if you regret it?"

"i'll get over it."

with a swift move, mingi's hand yanks your bra down, freeing your breasts and attaching his lips to your tense nipples. you sigh, fingers reaching for his hair and pushing his head into you. his rough tongue swipes over the sensitive bud, lips sucking, while his finger spins the other one. you shake under his touch, never having been touched this way before except by yourself. it feels more intense when it is someone else, and you are dying for more.

"more, please," you beg, pulling at his hair.

"i'll give you anything you want. just ask, doctor. say it, and i'll give it to you."

"touch me more. i need more."

the dark haired man grabs your waist, and like a doll, easily lays you down on the bed and hovers above you. his strength fascinates you, and turns you on even more. you have the urge to feel his every inch under your fingers, but you aren't sure how he will take it. so you settle for placing your hands on his firm chest, just to see his reaction.

he doesn't say or do anything about it. instead, he plants kisses between your breasts, down your stomach, to the waistband of your skirt.

"should i take it off?"

"no." he says firmly. "keep it all on. bright colours look beautiful on you."

"but won't it be difficult?"

"let me do the worrying. you just relax."

with a glint in his eyes, he disappears under your skirt, and you almost yelp when his cold fingers touch your thighs. you try closing them, but his strong grip keeps them apart.

"stay still for me, princess."

a new flood of arousal washes your panties, the new nickname almost making your back arch from the hard mattress. his fingers move your panties aside, and without any warning, his lips press against your folds, leaving a kiss to test the grounds. you gasp at the newfound pleasure, and then moan when his wet muscle swipes across your clit.

"i'll make you feel so good, i promise. i'll repay you. i'll show you how good i can make you feel. just stick around me, please. i'll let you use me for your own pleasure any time you want. do anything you want to me, or order me to do anything you want to you. just stay with me. please."

"i will, i promise, i do." you're lost in the feeling of pure ecstasy, his plush lips sucking and kissing your clit as his finger tests your hole. you clench at the strange feeling, pleasure now being replaced with discomfort. "mingi-"

"trust me. relax." he peeks over the skirt, lips glistening with your arousal. 

and you do, at least try to. his lips return to abusing your swollen clit, tugging it and circling it with his tongue, distracting you from his finger. when he decides that you are wet enough, he slides it in, slowly. he tests the waters, and when he sees that you're not clenching, he goes deeper. he moves in and out, knowing that you don't feel anything just yet, but preparing you for the second one.

he watches as your chest rises and falls heavily, soft sighs and moans leaving your pretty parted lips, and your hair already sticking to your face. he is satisfied with himself, finally living out his fantasy of making you feel good as a thank you. he inserts a second finger, easily gliding it along your walls. he curves them slightly upwards, brushing against the spongy part of you, and when you slightly jump and reach for his hair, he smiles to himself. jackpot.

"does it hurt, doctor?"

"it's a bit unpleasant." you admit.

"it'll be better, i promise. i'm just preparing you so that it hurts less later."

his fingers continue pumping inside you, with each entrance gently grazing your soft spot until you get used to it. when your whines turn into moans, mingi finally gives it his all. his thumb rubs your clit, while his two fingers continue with a faster pace. his lips find yours once again, tongue rubbing yours and letting you taste yourself from him. your brain feels fuzzy, and your stomach warm.

"stop, stop." you try pushing his hand away.

"why?"

"i'm close." you whine, trying to push the feeling away. it feels too soon.

"don't worry. i can do wonders in fifteen minutes."

his pumps become stronger and faster, and you helplessly grip at his biceps, nails digging into his already poor tormented skin. but he doesn't complain. he is too lost in the way you look, pure bliss on your face from his touch.

"that's a good girl," he mumbles when a long moan escapes your throat, your body collapsing under him with pure pleasure. "ride it out, come on."

your hips grind on his hand, which continues abusing your overstimulated pussy. you try to move away, but mingi grips your wrists and pins them above your head, then proceeds to finger you faster.

"please-" you're not sure what you're begging for; him to stop or to give you more.

tears stream down your face, pain and pleasure mixing inside of you and creating a roller coaster of emotions. your body twitches, another orgasm washing you over. the room is filled with squelching noises, and when you gather an ounce of strength to pick your head up and look down, you are shocked to see liquid spraying out of you and all over mingi's arm and bed. the man removes his fingers from you, wasting no time and popping them in his mouth. you watch as his tongue swirls around them, his gaze pure lust as he watches your body recover.

"forgive me."

"for wha- oh." your panties are ripped apart, pieces of fabric hanging loosely from your thighs.

"you're so pretty," he kisses you, "so beautiful," your neck, "so pure," your collarbone, "so kind," your stomach, "and so perfectly made for me."

his hands pick you up from the bed, then gently lay you across the dusty old desk near the little window with your back turned towards him. your upper body shivers when it makes contact with the cold wood, and legs almost tremble. you grip the edges of the desk, not questioning his methods. you can barely stand, but your desire to feel him, all of him, gives you energy.

"you're so small underneath me," his hand flips your skirt over, fingers caressing your buttcheeks and thighs while his other hand works on his boxers. "you fit in my hands just perfect."

you can only hum, too lost in the euphoria. his hand spreads your legs apart, and carefully pulls your hair back so that it doesn't fall in your face. you feel a warm muscle circle your hole, which clenches around nothing.

"i'm gonna claim you, doctor. you'll be mine, full of me. i'll mark you up, let everyone know that you belong to me, and i belong to you."

then, he slides in, making you grip the desk and almost bite into it. it hurts like hell, his thick cock splitting you apart. you almost growl in pain, but mingi puts his hand over your mouth just in time. you bite into it, finding comfort in hurting him while he hurts you. but it doesn't last long, because mingi knows what he's doing. he gently pulls out, then slides back in, and so a few times until your hips willingly push back in search for his cock. you are stuffed, and feel him in your stomach. his hands hold your hips in place, while his lips kiss along your spine and shoulders. every now and then, he bites and sucks, marking you just like he promised.

"you'll be mine, and mine only. won't you? tell me you will, please. have mercy on me."

"yes, yes, i will." you groan, focusing on chasing the pleasure.

"can i stuff you full of my cum?"

"you can, please."

"are you on any pills?"

"no, oh fuck- no, i'm not. just- just fuck me, please. i don't care."

mingi is taken aback by your request. but who is he to disobey you? he finds himself roughly pounding into you, completely ignoring your painful whines. he raises one of your legs on the table, and finally reaches the angle he needed. you bite into his hand again, hiding moans. he would love to hear you, more than anything, but with elijah and barnes right around the corner, it's impossible. another time. if mingi is lucky, he'll get to see and hear it.

"pretty," thrust, "so pretty," thrust, "i'm obsessed with you."

"you look beautiful stuffed with my cock."

"your cunt is the prettiest one i've ever seen."

"i want to see your cumming face every day, forever."

"i want you all to myself."

he chants against your ear, warm chest pressing against your back as he reaches deep inside of you, his pace slowing.

"i want to feel your walls swallow me every single day."

"your cunt was shaped for me."

"i'll have you squirting all over my tongue."

"nobody can touch you except me. not even you."

"and nobody will touch me, except you."

"please, doctor, make me the happiest prisoner in this shithole."

he halts his movements to catch a breath. but you, so desperate for him, move your hips and fuck yourself on him. it gives him a new surge of energy, and mingi can't help but bruise your skin with his grip as his skin slaps against yours, cock kissing your cervix and driving you insane.

"cream all over my cock, princess. please."

he doesn't have to say it twice. the third orgasm has your vision blurry, and you mouth almost drooling. you fuck yourself dumb on his cock, riding out your orgasm and feeling warm liquid spilling inside of you. he grunts behind you, helping both of you get the final touches of pleasure out before pulling out. his cum drips from your hole, down your thigh, and mingi fights the urge to stuff you full of himself one more time. it's enough for one night, he concludes.

"see? and five minutes to spare." he jokingly whispers, planting a kiss on your shoulder where a purple bite sized bruise is being formed. "let me help you get dressed."

you stand up straight, and allow him to take care of you. he delicately buttons your blouse up, fixing your collar, then reaches for his half soaked bed sheet so he can dry your skirt. you watch him as he tries his best to put you together, thinking if this was your best or worst decision of your life.

"wow. just what the fuck did i say? i find you, i kill him."

your legs feel cold, like they were sliced. your eyes widen, and mingi stills on his knees under you. you can only put your hands on his head and bring him close to you for a hug in hopes of protecting him somehow. a few seconds feel like hours to you, holding his body close to you and feeling his hands hug your legs shakily, before he is mercilessly torn away and dragged down the hallway, by none other than elijah and barnes.

jeong yunho stays at the door, a smirk expanding on his lips. he knew. from the moment you met mingi, yunho knew this moment would come. he just needed a puppet to arrange his sentence.

my saviour, the young prisoner said.

yet he didn't know that you would be his death. served as kindness on a platter, only to turn out the biggest bullet of them all.

[chestharrington]

Girls On Film || Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve's absentee parents gift him a camcorder for graduation. What better way to find out how it works than making a sex tape?

Couple: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Content Warnings: explicit smut (f!receiving oral, handjob, p in v sex ft. girl on top), sex on camera, filming a sex tape, lovey-dovey adorable dorks in love

Word Count: 3.7k

Your heart soared with pride as Steve walked off the football field towards you, wearing a goofy-looking gown and graduation cap. As soon as he reached you, he lifted you up and gave you a tiny spin, smiling ear to ear. 

“You’re looking at a college grad,” he said with a smug smile after he put you down. You beamed at him as he lifted his hand and showed off the shiny gold class ring. “I’m never taking this thing off.”

You grinned, tugging at the graduation gown. “What about this thing? You willing to take this off for me?” You smiled wryly and pressed a kiss on his cheek. 

A throat cleared behind you both and you turned, looking at the party and Robin standing with various levels of disgust evident on their faces. 

Robin wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Keep it in your pants, please. Or, I guess keep it in your large, nylon zippy robe.” She squeezed between you and kissed Steve on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Steve.”

Dustin stepped forward next and gave Steve a big hug— he’d hit a growth spurt since you last saw him and was nearly as tall as Steve. Lucas, Will, and Mike all offered their congratulations combined with complaints about how boring the ceremony was after they got through the H last names. 

Max crossed her arms as El wheeled her over, trying her best to be nonchalant. “I can’t see you, but I know you look dumb in that stupid hat.” Steve gave a fake laugh, took the hat from his head, and placed it on hers. “Ew, it’s all sweaty, you jerk.” She smiled despite herself and held the hat against her chest.

Steve wrinkled his nose in a way that told you he was trying his best not to cry. You knew it meant a lot to him that they’d shown up. 

“Why don’t we all go for lunch?” You suggested. “My treat.” Not wanting the reunion to end, and not wanting to turn down a free lunch, everyone piled into their cars and headed to Steve’s favorite place.

When you and Steve got into his car, you were greeted by the shrill sound of his car phone ringing. With a furrowed brow, he reached over and retrieved the bulky device from its bag and answered. Even from across the car, you could hear the tinny noise of his mother speaking on the phone. 

“Yeah, the ceremony is over,” he said, jaw ticking. “I sent you both the invitation two months ago.” He looked over with an exasperated look, so you grabbed his hand to give a comforting squeeze. “Well, we’re all going to lunch if you can make it.”

You frowned, but didn’t say anything. Despite their apparent lack of care, you knew that he valued their approval and time.

“Oh. Right, I understand.” He sighed deeply. “Well, I appreciate it. Okay. Okay, bye.”

He hung up and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They, uh, they got double booked. They’re in Buffalo for a conference right now.”

Your gaze softened at the sight of his disappointed expression. “I know they’re proud of you, Steve.” He nodded, but didn’t look entirely convinced. You pulled the hand intertwined with yours up and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles.

————

When you arrived at your shared condo, you were greeted by a gift-wrapped box on the porch. You had to help him carry it in through the door, huffing as you both dropped it onto your coffee table. 

Steve shrugged off the graduation gown he was wearing and kneeled to unwrap the present. A large card taped to the top revealed the senders, as if that were in question. 

“To our firstborn son— congratulations! Love, Mr and Mrs Harrington.” The emotionless text almost made you grimace. You’d never read something more blatantly written by a personal assistant in your life. 

“Jesus,” he muttered as he tore away the wrapping to reveal the gift. “This thing must’ve cost a fortune.” You glanced over as he held up a plastic case and found nothing that might have revealed its contents. 

“What is it?” You asked, kneeling down beside him and leaning in close. He popped open the case and held up a hulking piece of machinery. 

“It’s a camcorder,” he said with a grin. “It’s the best one on the market.”

You raised your eyebrows and tried not to ask what he even needed one of those for. Video cameras were for new parents and aspiring filmmakers, not college grads.

Your own gift felt tiny in comparison, even though you’d been saving for a few months to afford it. Between rent for you and Steve’s condo, groceries, and gas for your cars, it wasn’t easy to have expendable cash to buy nice gifts with. 

You stayed quiet as Steve marveled at the fancy gift, holding it up to his face like he was testing how it looked through the viewfinder. 

“Gorgeous,” he said, peeking out at you. “I think I found my muse.” You scoffed and covered the camera with your hand even though it wasn’t charged. 

“Plug it in and we’ll see how it works later,” you said. “For now… I have a gift for you.”

He sat up, wearing a grin. “Is it lingerie? Is it dinner at The Olive Garden? Is it a bubble bath?” He leaned in and nipped at your jaw teasingly. “C’mon, tell me—“

You giggled as he pinned you down on the rug, peppering kisses on your cheeks. “Steveeee,” you groaned. He finally stopped, hovering over you. “You’re such a spoiled brat.” That made him grin even more. He pecked your lips chastely, then sat back on his knees. 

You scrambled to stand up and grinned. “Stay there, alright?” He nodded and you disappeared into your shared bedroom. 

Hidden away in your bedside table was a glass trinket box you’d thrifted a few months ago. It was shaped like a heart, with little gold foil embellishments. You couldn’t leave without it. You knew the real gift was inside, but you still hoped that Steve would like the box. 

Steve was fiddling with the camera when you stepped back into the living room, trying his best to plug it in to charge. When he saw you, though, he smiled and sat down on the couch, waiting for you to join him. 

“It isn’t much,” you insisted as you handed it over. “I hope you like it though.”

He smiled and nudged your cheek with his nose. “Are you joking? This is adorable. I love it. I’m gonna keep all my important stuff in here.”

You smiled and shook your head. “Babe, open it.” He looked sheepish as he lifted the lid, then his expression softened. You watched with a fluttering in your chest as he lifted the chain from the box.

It took months to save up for real gold, and then for the pendants after. Two initials— his and yours. “If you don’t like it, I can take it back and get something you actually w—“ 

 He cut you off with a quick kiss that made your head spin. “It’s perfect. Best gift I’ve ever gotten, hands down. And one year I got Yankees tickets behind the plate for my birthday.” He was quick to put it on, smiling over at you. “How do I look?”

You pecked his cheek. “A million bucks, babe.” He leaned in and gave you a real kiss— deep and intense. You smiled against his lips and melted into his touch. You’d never loved someone the way you loved him. 

“Wanna know what’s crazy?” He said after he pulled away. You nodded and he gestured towards the bedroom. “I bought you something too. Stay here.”

You sat patiently as he got up and hurried into the bedroom. You heard scuffling and the sounds of moving drawers until he returned, holding a wooden box. 

“Your gift is inside this, by the way,” he teased as he sat back beside you. You watched him with anticipation until he flipped it open and your heart stopped. 

“So, uh, I got you jewelry too,” he said softly, or maybe your ears were just ringing. 

Inside the box, nestled in the middle of a tiny silk pillow, was a diamond ring. 

Like, a diamond ring. The kind you get married with. 

“That’s—“

He nodded. “Yeah, it is,” he said, grinning ear to ear. “Will you marry me?”

In lieu of a verbal response, you put the ring on and kissed him like he was your one and only source of oxygen. It felt like it anyway— that if you parted from him even a little you’d cease to exist. 

“Yes?” He asked, smiling nervously. “That’s a yes?”

You kissed him again. “It’s a yes, Steve. I wanna marry you.”

———

Steve forgot about the video camera in the excitement of the engagement. Because he had to call Robin’s hotel and let her know, and then she spilled the news to the party, and suddenly it felt like everyone from Hawkins was in the tiny condo. 

After hours and hours of catching up and celebrating the day, you and Steve were left alone in a quiet house. 

“So… the future Mrs. Steve Harrington…” you turned and rolled your eyes at the sight of Steve holding the video camera that had been charging all night. “Anything you want to say to the camera on the night of our engagement?”

“How do you know I’m not keeping my last name?” You asked as he got closer, putting the lens right in your face. You giggled and ducked out of the way as the lens came close to knocking against your nose. “You’re such a child.”

He grinned. “Alright, give me something to remember this night by. For posterity, baby.”

You smiled wickedly at him before lifting the hem of your shirt, flashing your tits at him and the camera. By the time you lowered your shirt back down, his mouth was ajar. “We are never showing anyone this video now.”

You grinned. “Nuh-uh, baby, this is all for you.” You raised your brows in a challenge and stepped into the bedroom, leaving him to hurry behind you with the clunky machine. 

He stood in the doorway, camera focused on you as you slipped off your blouse and skirt. The whirring of machinery inside the camera indicated he was zooming in on your tits. You stifled a laugh at the noise as he zoomed out again, taking in all of you.

“Strip for me,” he directed behind the camera. You gave a wry grin as your thumbs slipped behind the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs slowly. “Fuck, you’re so sexy. Gonna put on a show for me?”

You settled on the bed on all fours, back arched as you crawled towards the headboard. Steve groaned at the sight, breath shuddering as you flipped around and spread your legs for him. Without needing instructions, you slipped one hand between your legs and let the other move to your chest, kneading your breast between your fingers. 

He moved from the doorway— the magnetic pull of you too much to resist for long. He settled at the end of the bed, the camera so close it made butterflies swell in your tummy. He moved the camera to your hands, one between your legs, teasing your clit and dipping into the pool of arousal at your center, and the other toying with your nipples, the shiny diamond on the engagement ring glinting with each small movement. 

“Christ, baby hold the camera—“ he said suddenly, passing it over to you. You laughed as he practically threw it into your hands and you had to scramble to turn it right side up. 

You laughed as he tore off his clothes, probably popping some buttons here and there. “Steve, what are you— oh!” 

Without hesitation, Steve buried his head between your thighs, moaning at the taste of your juices as he lapped at your pussy. It was a struggle to film him and enjoy the moment, especially since you had to watch him through the viewfinder. But something about capturing something so intimate on film made a thrill run through you. 

“Fuck, Steve—“ you moaned, being more vocal than you normally would for the camera. Fuck the neighbors, honestly. It was your engagement night! “Your mouth feels so good, honey.” 

His brown eyes peered up at you, at the camera, framed by pretty long lashes. His lips formed a seal around your clit and he sucked lightly, making your legs tremble. Your free hand moved to his hair, tangling in the soft locks as his mouth elicited gasps and moans. 

A slick sheen had formed on the tip of his nose, his mouth, and chin from his ministrations. The sight made heat bloom in the pit of your stomach. His eyes fluttered closed as he lost himself in you— relishing in your sounds, your smell, your taste. 

A light pat on your thigh was his wordless signal for you to move and accommodate him more. You acquiesced, spreading your legs as much as you were comfortably able to, and he let his fingertips tease at your center. 

“Relax for me, baby,” he said, his words vibrating against your clit. He gave the bundle of nerves a light kiss before he looked up at you. “I’ve got you. Just…” He pushed his middle finger into you and you moaned low in your throat, instinctively pushing back against the intrusion. “That’s it. Just like that.”

He was always so gentle with you during foreplay— taking his time to really explore every single spot that he knew made you tick. You shuddered as the pad of his finger pressed against a particularly sensitive spot within you. He knew you like the back of his hand— probably better. He slid a second finger beside the first, coaxing moans and gasps from you as he gave all his attention to your clit and g-spot.

Your thighs trembled as you fought the instinct to close them around his head, the stimulation bordering on too much. The softness of his mouth on you, the press of his fingers against the most sensitive spot inside— making you cum was simply too easy for him. You barely had time to gasp out a breathy “I’m cumming—“ before your orgasm hit you. Your walls gripped his fingers like a vise as he worked you through it, muttering praise against your cunt before he withdrew his fingers completely. 

You stared at the ceiling, trying to find your breath. “C’mere. It's your turn,” you said with a grin. 

Steve simply shook his head. “Not done.” He moved his mouth back to your cunt, this time without the hungry ferocity. You sighed at the sensation, your legs twitching when the tip of his tongue brushed against your clit. His movements lost purpose with each pass of his tongue until he was practically making out with your pussy.

Your head fell back against the pillows, soft gasps slipping past your lips. Steve moaned against you as you tugged his hair, a furrow forming between his brows. So utterly lost in you that he hadn’t even noticed that he was rutting against the bed for friction. 

“C’mere,” you said softly. He pressed a final, wet kiss to your pussy before resting his head on the plush of your thigh. Your stomach flipped as he licked his lips, chasing those last remnants of your taste. He pressed a soft kiss to your belly before crawling up to meet you.

The kiss you shared was hungry and slow. The camera was shoved to the side so you could put your mouth on his— tongues meeting, the tang of your arousal and his spit flooding your senses. 

A low moan escaped his lips as your hand snaked between your two bodies, where you took his length into your hand and stroked slowly. His mouth fell open, a small furrow between his brows. 

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. You smiled up at him innocently and let your thumb glide across his tip. A full-body shiver overtook him, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. Steve was easy to love all the time, but especially when he was needy. “Switch spots with me.” When you furrowed your brows he nodded towards the camera. “Please?”

When he sat back on his heels, you moved from beneath him and let him settle with his back against the pillows. You were slightly annoyed that he had control of the camera, because goddamn. His thighs were bowed out slightly, cock resting against his stomach. The sight made your heart hammer as you straddled his thighs.

Steve took the camera back into his hands, a wide smile on his face. “Alright, just do what you were doing,” he instructed. “Left hand though.”

You glanced down at your hand and smiled softly. The engagement ring— your engagement ring— glinted up at you. You spit onto your hand and Steve groaned at the sight. 

“Haven’t even touched you yet,” you teased.

“Don’t let me stop you.” His voice wavered, revealing just how needy he really was.

He cried out the moment your hand wrapped around his length, head tossed back against the headboard. His cock pulsed in your hand as it glided up and down, aching for more. You leaned down, spitting onto his tip, giving you more slickness to work with. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his chest heaving. You moved your right hand to his balls, kneading them as you focused your attention on the head. “Jesus, look at that fuckin’ rock, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled wryly. “That’s what you’re thinking about? Not— y’know— the handjob to end all handjobs?” To prove your point, you twisted your hand and let your thumb glide over his slit. He practically whimpered, bucking into your grip. 

You redoubled your efforts, relishing in each desperate, whiny noise you were able to elicit. He was getting close— you could feel it in the way he throbbed in your hand, and hear it in the desperate pants and moans passing his lips. Before he could finish, you slowed your pace and let him come back from the edge. 

He sat there, arm slung over his eyes, just catching his breath. “Earth to Steve?” You teased, placing a kiss on his tummy. He made a low noise in the back of his throat and took another deep breath. 

“Okay, I’m good,” he said, a breathy laugh escaping his lips as he finally lowered his arm and looked at you. “Just needed a minute so I didn’t—“ You giggled as he mimed an explosion, completely unabashed about the effect you had on him. 

He grabbed the camera and placed it on the bedside table, doing his best to angle it just right. “Alright… wanna take a ride on the Harrington Express?” He patted his thighs with a smug expression and you groaned in annoyance. 

“Steve.”

“Fine. I’ll be so cool. I’ll be totally normal. But just know… you’re marrying a loser.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly as you straddled his thighs. “I wouldn’t have it any other way… most of the time.”

He stared up at you like you hung the moon, all doe eyes and heart-shaped pupils. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, tender and slow, and you hummed contentedly at the feeling. 

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips. He moved one of your hands from his shoulder and down to his chest, where his heart thumped steadily. For you.

Your own heart lurched in your chest as a swell of emotions overtook you. “I love you too, Steve.”

You reached between the two of you, taking his cock into your hand so you could position him at your entrance. You breathed slowly through your nose as you sank down— the prep and attention he had given you made the stretch comfortable and bearable, so all you felt was the pleasurable full feeling that he gave you.

Once you were fully seated, you gave an experimental roll of your hips. A moan escaped you at the feeling— as each tiny movement made delicious electricity run along your nerves. 

He sat up fully, his chest pressing against yours, holding you firmly against him. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned, cutting himself off to plant wet kisses along your jaw and throat. “Feels so good. Love the way your pussy feels around me.”

He cried out as you began to ride him in earnest, not caring how thin the walls of the condo were. His hands gripped onto your hips and dimpled the plush skin there as he began to meet your thrusts with his own. With each movement, you could feel him getting deeper until you could practically feel him in your guts. 

“Steve,” you gasped out, meeting his gaze as he fucked up into you. The sound of his name seemed to spur him on.

“Say it again,” he demanded. “Touch yourself while you do,”

You whimpered at the tone of his voice, snaking a hand between your bodies to toy with your clit. Your limbs felt like jelly as he continued to fuck the life and brains out of you. “St-Steve, fuck, baby,” you cried between the hiccup-y sobs of pleasure that were punched from your lungs.

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. Not gonna last like this.”

“Don’t,” you managed. “Cum for me. With me.” You leaned in and kissed him in a way that felt like more saliva than lips. 

When you pulled back, he nodded, forehead pressed against yours as you both worked each other over the edge. Your vision was spotted with pinpricks of light while he worked you through it, his moans distant in your ears. 

You were both panting, nearly tacked together with sweat as you came down. You chuckled lightly as you tilted your head to look at him. “That was one hell of a celebration.” He intertwined your fingers and placed a kiss on your ring finger. 

“And we have the rest of our lives to do it again, and again, and again, and ag—“ 

You shut him up with a kiss. You figure that for the rest of your lives, that’s always going to work. 

It does.

[siriussslut]

Regulus receiving head for the first time, all whimpering and whining and gasping??? Yes pls. First time he gets deep throated? He swears he’s seen God.

Honestly, I’m not one to give head just like that but people’s reaction to getting it for the first time is so scrumptious to think abt

(I’ll just leave this pretty thing here)

- 🦕

oh my god stop i love ur reqs

warnings: explicit smut, oral sex (m receiving)

masterlist

pt 2, pt 3

“never?” you ask, the disbelief in your voice evident.

“never,” regulus confirms.

you wrinkle your nose. “is it like weird looking or something? or is it tiny?”

blood rushes to his face, cheeks flushing red. “no, it’s not weird!” he splutters. “and it’s not tiny.”

you squint at him, doubting. “but you’ve never gotten head?”

he shakes his head.

“show me.”

his blush somehow deepens. “sh-show you?”

you nod, as though asking your best friend to show you his dick is totally normal. “show me.”

he reaches for his zipper, clearly uncertain. you nod your encouragement. he lowers the zipper, letting his pants fall to your bedroom floor.

you laugh immediately. “are those minecraft boxers?”

he glares at you. you try to look away from the hideous green briefs, looking down at his thighs. they’re a lovely milky white, moles dotting the pale skin, creeping below the cloth.

“go on.”

he pulls at the boxers’ hem, before finally letting them fall to the floor. his cock springs free.

without thinking, you blurt out, “oh, it’s not tiny.”

regulus smirks as you stare. he’s definitely not tiny, coming in at least nine inches.

you squeeze your thighs together, picturing his length between them.

his dick is erect, clearly having hardened during your conversation. the tip is as red as his cheeks, the rest of it pale white.

you reach out, hand grazing the air in front of the tip.

you meet his eyes, asking. his grey eyes are foggy, clearly confused, but he nods.

your fingers touch the head and it twitches. you smirk, gaining more confidence.

you slide your fingers down, running them along the veins. you reach his balls and stroke. he gasps at the touch, thrusting his hips forward. you looks back into his eyes, and see lust shining back at you.

you slide off the bed, knees landing on your carpet with a soft thud. never once breaking eye contact, you lower your face, sliding him inside of your mouth. his hips thrust into you, groaning.

you shove as much of him as you can down your throat, letting his cock cut off your air supply. the taste of him fills your mouth and you suck with fervor, needing more of his dick.

“f-fuck.”

you reach down to grab his balls in your palms. you tug on them as you stimulate his tip, swirling your tongue around the erection.

he’s gasping and groaning the whole time, beautiful whimpers filling the air. your brain blocks out all the other sounds in the world— the chirping of the birds outside, your mother’s soft singing from downstairs, the clatter of pans as she cooks.

all you hear is the downright sin spilling out of the regulus’ beautiful wet lips. you grind your thighs together, wetness seeping through to your carpet.

“holy shit!” he groans, his voice an octave too high. “oh, fuck.” his voice is whiny and high, and he sounds dazed.

he comes in seconds, unable to hold it back. his seed floods your throat, painting your tongue. he twitches and thrusts in a fucked-out stupor before seemingly coming to his senses. he pulls out and a bit of cum covers your cheek.

you meet his eyes again, biting down on your lip before swallowing his load. he whimpers at the sight of you.

“was it good?” you ask, your voice low and sultry.

“i think i’ve met god.”

you laugh. “we’ll have to practice you lasting longer.” you stand up, readjusting your clothes.

“p-practice?”