#Morphe Presence

[curseddistinguishedly]

Idk man there’s just something inherently inhuman about the way False lies directly into the viewers face and remodels the narrative to fit her agenda. Like the narrative that could have been a journey to healing for E!False becomes doom looming over her in HC!False’s hands, like a hammer ready to strike down, and it only stops being that after HC!False leaves the Empires along with other hermits. There’s a relief like she has finally stopped keeping it in her firm grasp you know?

[lilacerull0]

whenever someone has a problem and goes to sweets about it i feel like he is my psychologist and not theirs

[argentarrogance]

Morph's just gonna turn into Quicksilver and point at him like the meme they'd seen about Spider-Man.

@nerdynanny

'' I lowkey wanted to be dramatic, gasp, and use 'Et tu, Morph?' on you, but I'll just lay down, and pretend there are not two most handsome men in one room; me and me again. ''

[houlen-yabusame]

idk

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Summary: Alastor rarely lost control of his shadows. It only happened when he was deep in thought planning his next broadcast. Or when he was sleeping. But those moments were few and far between. Though when he did, one shadow, in particular, always came to your side.

☒ Warnings: fem!reader, she/her pronouns, smut, fingering, dubious consent from alastor's shadow, but consent from alastor himself, established relationship, slight misunderstandings, groping, making out, first time together, oral (reader receiving), breeding kink, praise, slight teasing, begging, squirting, alastor has a knot, soft aftercare, alastor's ears are his weak spot, reader holds onto alastor's antlers while they...ykyk

☒ Word Count: 3,756

Alastor rarely lost control of his shadows. It only happened when he was deep in thought planning his next broadcast. Or when he was sleeping. But those moments were few and far between. Though when he did, one shadow, in particular, always came to your side. 

The dark silhouette was playful. You couldn’t help but giggle when the shadow would dance along the wall, morphing into silly shapes. Or when the silhouette would play with the bubbles while you took a relaxing bath. You were pleasantly shocked when the shadow slipped into the tub with you, cupping some bubbles in its palm and forming a soapy beard around your jaw. 

It was harmless fun. You never mentioned it to Alastor because you figured he sent the shadows of his own volition. Your partner had trouble with physical intimacy, so you assumed Alastor was testing the waters with his shadowy counterpart. Little did you know, that was far from the truth. 

In some ways, Alastor’s shadows had a mind of their own. They reflected his deepest desires and emotions. So, when he didn’t keep them in check, it only made sense that one of his shadows would find its way to you. Alastor simply adored you but he only showed you tenderness behind closed doors. Not wanting his reputation to be tarnished- or for you to get caught in the crossfire of any turf wars. So, the attention you were getting from his dark silhouette was more than welcome. 

Over time, things became more… perverse. You had just gotten out of your bath, dressing yourself in your comfiest nightgown, when the shadow made its presence known. You jumped slightly when the void arms wrapped around your waist from where it towered behind you. The shadow nuzzled its face into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily against your nape. A shudder ran through you as your partner's silhouette pulled your back flush against its chest. 

“This is… different,” You chuckled playfully, placing your hands over the shadow's hands that rested atop your abdomen. Slowly, they began moving down. Your breath hitched when the shadow of sharp nails raked up the tops of your thighs tauntingly, inching higher under your nightgown. Your hands came up to clasp around your mouth, failing miserably at muffling your sinful sounds. The shadow’s hand cupped your panty-clad core, caressing you in a teasing fashion. A moan of your lover's name slipped past your lips as the silhouette became more brazen. It dipped a hand underneath the waistband of your panties before slowly running a deft finger through your slick folds. 

Alastor and you have never done anything sexual. Sure, you shared kisses and warm embraces, but never anything further. You had desires for Alastor in that way, but you never wanted to put him in a position where he would feel uncomfortable. You knew touch was quite challenging for your lover, so respecting his wishes was your top priority. Whenever you got needy, you took care of yourself, plain and simple. But having Alastor’s shadow feel you up so sensually, going so far as to gather the embarrassing amount of slick that pooled in your core with its wicked digit was more than a surprise for you. It felt amazing, better than you pictured. You only wished it was Alastor in the flesh instead of his shadow. But if this was what he was comfortable with until then, you weren’t complaining. 

Sultry whines of yours were muffled by your palm as the shadow dipped a finger into your welcoming heat. You clenched tightly from the sudden intrusion, the pleasure rushing straight to your head. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as the shadow added a second finger, pumping into you slowly. The tantalizing drag of its fingers from deep within your pussy made your legs shake wildly. You still couldn’t believe this was happening, but you were too scared to pinch yourself if this was a dream; because it was certainly one you didn’t want to wake from. 

From atop the radio tower, Alastor was fretting over the fine details for his next broadcast. His eyebrows were threaded in concentration as he typed away at his typewriter, tearing page after page and starting anew. None of what he was coming up with was up to par. It needed to be perfect. Amid all the stress and frustration, his devilish shadow slipped away from him. It sensed that Alastor needed comfort, and you were always his solace. The shadow also picked up on another urge that Alastor had as a cause of all his frustrations; a need for release. 

That’s when the shadow snuck into your and Alastor’s shared room, hence the predicament you’re currently in. But little did you know, Alastor wasn’t immune to his own shadow’s ministrations. Abruptly, Alastor doubled over. Warmth spread through his lower abdomen as he felt all the blood in his body rush south. Alastor’s eyebrows shot up in shock, eyes blown wide as he looked down into his lap. “What just happened..?” Alastor asked himself. His voice fell flat from his usually staticky tone, utterly dumbfounded as to why his body began to betray him. The heat in his belly grew, as did the ache in his groin. Alastor’s face flushed a deep crimson, complimenting his hair nicely as his breaths became labored. “F-Fuck…” He scored his bottom lip with his teeth, drawing blood as his cock twitched with need beneath his pants. Alastor’s nails dug deep into his desk, leaving deep scratch marks as his hips jolted up involuntarily. The need for release was almost painful, and he craved any sort of friction he could get at that moment. 

Alastor took in a shaky breath, attempting to regain his composure. His mind was reeling, but he tried to focus. That’s when he noticed, his shadows went astray. “I rather hate when this happens,” Alastor spat through gritted teeth. He swallowed thickly before standing on shaky legs. He took one last breath before storming out of his radio tower. The need for release was suppressed momentarily as the desire to punish those pesky shadows outweighed. 

As for you, the shadow continued its teasing pace. Each time you got close to the edge the shadow would stop entirely. Dragging out your much-needed orgasm and causing you to feel more desperate than ever. You craved release more than anything. Your mind was fuzzy, all you could focus on was the pleasure Alastor's shadow granted you. The only thing holding you up was one of the shadow's slender arms wrapped around your midsection. If not for that, your shaky legs surely would have given out by now.

Before your mind could catch up, the bedroom door slammed open. In an instant, the shadow that had been toying with you was gone. You dropped to the floor, eyes flickering open to comprehend what had happened. That's when your gaze fell upon Alastor. Embarrassment coursed through your veins at the sight of your lover. "A-Alastor..." Your voice was hoarse from all the whines that slipped past your lips only moments ago. 

Alastor ushered to your side immediately. His gaze was full of worry as you watched a bead of sweat cascade down his forehead. "Oh dear, this certainly wasn't what I expected my shadow to be up to," He trailed off, the static in his voice laced with shame. Alastor grasped your hands in his before tugging you up off the floor. Your legs were still uneasy as you placed your hands atop your lover's shoulders to stabilize yourself. 

"Wait... don't tell me you... didn't know?" Your bottom lip quivered as you avoided Alastor's intense gaze. You felt the tears well up in your eyes before he grasped your chin, forcing you to look at him. His other hand sat firmly on your hip, not wanting you to lose your footing. "My darling, I am so... please, forgive me for this vulgar display presented by my shadow. I had no clue that it was tormenting you until... my body became receptive. But not to worry, that wretched shadow will be punished."

The tears fell freely down your cheeks at his words. In a way, you felt rejected by your lover, and you felt stupid for even thinking he desired you in that way. How pathetic, you thought. Alastor wiped away your tears with the pad of his thumb. His heart ached in his chest upon seeing you in such a fragile state. "How laughable, I really thought this was intentional. Ah, I feel so embarssed... I think I should be the one apologizing, Al," You sniffled, dropping your hands down to your sides, putting a bit of distance between Alastor and yourself.

His expression turned into one of perplexity until it all clicked in his mind. Alastor felt a knot in his stomach. His darling felt rejected by him because she assumed her desires weren't reciprocated. Little did you know, his shadows mirrored his deepest needs. So, your assumption couldn't have been further from the truth. Ah, just what was he to do to mend this?

"Nonsense, dearest. You don't need to be sorry for a single thing. Please, don't feel ashamed. The reason I apologized was because I assumed my shadow forced itself onto you. But to my better understanding, you enjoyed the pleasure it gave you," Alastor's voice deepened. Voice crackling with that signature radio static. His crimson gaze raked over your frame. He felt heat swirl within his lower abdomen once more at the sight of your disheveled state. 

Your panties were pooling at your ankles, and the flimsy straps of your nightgown draped down your shoulders. Alastor didn't fail to notice the slick trailing down your inner thighs, nor the way your legs shook with need. "I really enjoyed it, Al..." You sniffled, a small frown painting your features. Alastor's grip around your waist tightened as the hand caressing your cheek began to trail lower. "Oh my little doe, the feeling is mutual," Alstor whispered, grasping your wrist before guiding your palm to the front of his trousers. A gasp slipped past your lips at the feeling of your lover's hard cock straining against his pants. "You see, my shadows share the same desires as I. They are a part of me, after all," He continued, large palm dwarfing the back of your hand as he pressed you further into his crotch. 

Alastor let out a strangled groan at the much-needed friction, and the sound alone had you dripping with need. "What made you think I wouldn't want to absolutely ravish you? You truly believe fucking you hasn't crossed my mind countless times, hm?" You bit your lip at his words, squeezing your thighs together. Alastor let out a low chuckle, and before you could process it, he ushered you both to the bed. A breath escaped you as your back hit the mattress. In no time, Alastor was crawling on top of you, his slender thighs caging you underneath him. He dipped his face low, nose nearly brushing against yours. "Well, use your words, darling." 

Your heart was pounding against your ribcage as you gazed into his frenzied gaze. His eyes were half-lidded, the corners of his lips twitching slightly. "N-No! I... I just thought that-" Alastor brought a finger to your lips, shushing you softly. "You thought wrong, my dearest. This isn't quite what I had in mind for our first time, but alas," Alastor's large palms trailed down your body. He pushed your thighs apart with ease, slotting himself between them. A gasp escaped your lips at the feeling of his clothed erection pressing deeply into your exposed pussy. You were sure you had left a wet patch at the front of his pants from his gesture, but you couldn't care less. 

Alastor's gaze never once left yours. He drank up your expressions. The way your lips parted as another whimper escaped your throat was simply adorable to him. Alastor pushed your nightgown higher up your thighs and over your torso before skillfully ridding you of the garment entirely. "My, my... you are quite a sight for sore eyes. I could just eat you up," He inched his way down the bed, still gazing into your eyes as he laid flat on his stomach from beneath your legs. Alastor hooked your thighs over his shoulders, nipping and licking at the sensitive flesh. Pulling moans from your lips and causing you to drip even more with need. His sinful tongue wasted no time delving into your folds. A deep groan escaped Alastor's throat as he tasted you for the very first time. You were absolutely divine, his new favorite flavor.

Alastor dipped his wicked tongue into your needy hole, lapping up all of your slick before trailing higher. The moment his tongue teased at your clit, you were thrashing with pleasure. Without thinking, your hands flickered to the top of Alastor's head. Your fingers wrapped around his growing antlers, holding onto them for dear life as your lover devoured you. He moaned against your clit, the vibrations making your eyes roll back into your head. The pleasure he was granting you was heavenly; ironically so. You were close, and you craved release more than anything. The moment Alastor wrapped his lips around your clit, giving your nub a strong suck, you were done for. Your orgasm crashed over you, the pleasure reaching its peak as your thighs tightened around your lover's head. "A-Alastor!" Your vision went fuzzy as he worked you through your high, only pulling back when he felt your thighs relax. 

As you caught your breath, Alastor knelt between your legs. He swiftly undid his belt before tugging his trousers low enough down his thighs for his cock to spring free. "You see what you do to me, my dearest? You make me lose my composure, so you're going to have to take responsibility." He quipped, gazing down at you like you were his prey. The sight of his throbbing cock made you clench around nothing. You needed him inside you more than you needed air. Your mind was so fuzzy as you nodded your head in agreement, sitting up slightly to grasp your lover's cock at the base. Alastor let out a low moan as you leisurely stroked him. "I take full responsibility, I promise I'll make it up to you," You babbled, wrapping your free hand around the back of Alastor's neck, successfully pulling him on top of you. Your hand that grasped his length lined the ruddy tip of his cock up to your entrance. Alastor's breath hitched before he whispered, "Oh I know you will, my good girl." 

With that, Alastor pushed his hips forward. Slowly, he sunk into you inch by inch. "F-Fuck... you are squeezing me so tightly..." The stretch was delightful, your lover filled you perfectly. It's like you were made for one another. The moment his balls came flush against the underside of your pussy, you let out a breath you weren't even aware you were holding onto. Alastor's gaze held so much fondness for you, that it made your heart flutter. "Such a sweet little thing, taking me to the hilt with ease. You're mine, all mine." Alastor proclaimed before capturing your lips with his for the first time tonight. He poured all his emotions into the embrace, and your eyes fluttered shut as your hands came up to card through his two-toned locks. Alastor's tongue swiped along your bottom lip, asking permission to deepen the kiss. Without a second thought, you allowed him to invade your mouth. You whined against his lips as your fingers found his ears. You felt Alastor's cock twitch wildly from where he was nestled deep inside your warm wet heat. His head shot back in pleasure, breaking away from the kiss as your fingernails grazed the base of his ears. 

The moan he let out was obscene, making your walls flutter around his length. Alastor's gaze darkened tremendously when his eyes met yours again. "I hope you know I won't be holding back after that, my darling. It seems as though my self-control went amiss," He paused, delivering a quick but shallow thrust. A moan was ripped from you as Alastor ground his pelvis into yours, keeping himself deep inside you. "But you're such a sweet little thing, you can take it. Right, my darling?" Alastor quipped, still grinding his hips into yours. Your breath was labored as you tried to regain some semblance of composure. Just enough to answer your lover. "Y-Yes! I can take it- I promise!" You blurted out desperately as you pushed your hips into his, solidifying your words. Alastor let out a half chuckle half moan. It crackled deep within his chest before he brought his face to yours, lips ghosting over one another. "Good girl." With that, Alastor began fucking into you with reckless abandon. His hips pistoned into you hard and quick as deep grunts and groans slipped out of him. You held onto his antlers once more as your lover fucked you senseless.

With each drag of his hips, the tip of his cock prodded at your sweet spot. You were seeing stars. Alastor's hands began to wander as his pace quickened, and your back arched as he tweaked your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your pussy tightened around him like a vise as he toyed with your other nipple. His crimson gaze memorized every reaction you had, making his head spin. Alastor's hands quickly came down to your thighs, pushing them up toward your chest. He shuddered as his cock reached deeper inside you than ever before. You were an absolute mess underneath him, but you took Alastor's rough treatment nicely. Just as you promised. "My, my! You're making quite a mess of our sheets darling. My pants are practically soaked with your arousal too! How naughty, I didn't know my darling was this desperate for my cock." His teasing only pushed you closer to your next release, and he knew it. Alastor could fucking feel it. Experimentally, he brought the pad of his thumb down to your clit. Your breath hitched as he began circling your puffy nub. His pace inside you was brutal, but his movements against your clit were painfully slow, making your legs shake wildly from the conflicting sensations. 

"Please, please, please!" You begged, tightening your grasp around his antlers as you pushed your hips into his, meeting his ruthless thrusts halfway. Alastor let out a dark chuckle. The static crackle rang through your ears as he began circling your clit faster. "Please? Please, what, darling?" He teased, slowing his hips slightly so you could get your words out. You let out a small whimper before blurting out, "Please, my love- can I cum? I wanna cum on your cock!" A flush spread to Alastor's cheeks, all the way down his neck from your words. How vulgar, he thought. His cock twitched wildly from within your inviting walls as he fucked into you with vigor, balls slapping against the underside of your pussy, causing lewd sounds to fill the room. "So filthy, my doe. Cum then. Let me feel you try to milk me for all I'm worth." His words were all you needed to cause the coil from deep within your tummy to snap. A throaty whine escaped you as you thrashed wildly against the sheets. Your legs twitched as you came all over your lover's cock. But this orgasm felt different than any other you had before. Your eyes shot down to where Alastor and yourself were connected, and that's when you noticed it. You were squirting. Alastor's eyes widened in shock, the sight of you cumming harshly underneath him pushed him impossibly close to his own release. You hardly had a moment to recover from your orgasm when you felt Alastor swelling from deep inside you. 

"You're going to take my seed like the good little doe you are. I'm going to breed you, mark you so no one ever dares to take what's mine." Alastor manically babbled. The possessive side of him always got you all hot and bothered. With each passing thrust, his knot swelled more and more until he could barely move from deep inside you. Alastor let out a strangled moan as he stilled, finally releasing his load deep within your cunt. You whimpered at the feeling of being filled up by your lover. There was so much. Each twitch of his cock pumped another thick load of cum inside your greedy heat. Alastor must have really been pent up, you thought. He gritted his teeth as the last of his load spilled into you. Alastor collapsed on top of you as his knot began to deflate, and his cock softened inside you. "Alastor... that was amazing." You chuckled breathlessly as your lover slipped out of your warmth. He rolled off of you before standing beside the bed. You watched as he rid himself of the rest of his clothing before he scooped you up into his arms bridal style. "You are perfection, my dear! I'm delighted to know I was able to satisfy your deepest desires." 

Your arms tightened around the back of his neck as Alastor made quick strides toward your private bathroom. He placed you atop the sink countertop before turning to fill the tub. "I didn't know that you, uh-" Heat rushed to your face as you tried to find the words, suddenly feeling rather bashful. Alastor finished adding the bubbles before turning to face you once more. He slotted himself between your parted thighs from where you sat atop the sink countertop, giving you a teasing look as his hands rubbed your sides. "That I...? What, darling?" He knew what you were trying to say, but he wanted to hear you say it for himself. You puffed out your cheeks as you wrapped your arms around his slender neck, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. Alastor chuckled against your lips before you blurted out, "I didn't know that you- had a... that you could knot... me." You let out a gasp as Alastor picked you up once more. Slowly lowering you into the tub before joining you. "Oh, my darling, there are many things you don't know about me! Maybe next time you'll get to experience more of my... surprises." 

[alastorss]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Alastor's antlers are embarrassingly, pathetically, unbearably sensitive.

He can't for the life of him figure out why—it's not like any of the other transfigured creatures wandering around the underworld were made this way. Most other animal-like sinners don't seem to care about or even acknowledge their characteristics.

Yet here he is, purposefully hiding them away just so that no one will discover his terrible weakness. Oh, what he would give to be like the others if only to ignore their incessantly uncomfortable presence on his head.

Perhaps it was a curse from heaven that made him this way, or karma that he was repaying from his life. Either way, he can't stand being touched.

At least, that's what he thought.

There's no malicious intent behind your hands, no glint in your eye that makes the primal instincts in his head scream at him to melt into the shadows. You're as gentle as can be, fingers running delicately along the intricacies of his antlers and stopping just at the ends of them.

"They're beautiful," you whisper with your eyes blown wide. Your shoulders rise and fall with each rapid breath, probably from the adrenaline of standing so close to an Overlord like this. And Alastor, no less.

Your reliable hotelier. Your first real friend in the hotel. The one whose smile cannot be trusted.

But for some reason, you can't shake the feeling that he's looking at you with pure, genuine appreciation even if his smile is a little wonky.

"Why, thank you, darling!"

He jerks away from you quick as the wind, standing tall once again and towering over you. His expression has morphed into something more strained—you can tell by the way his face creases up as his eyes narrow.

He was the one who decided to invade your personal space while the two of you were arguing. He just didn't think that you would be so bold as to get distracted by his antlers and have the gall to reach out to touch them.

The worst part? The absolute worst part of it all is that no one in all the time he's been in Hell has been gentle with him like that.

Add that to the list of things he despises. Or likes. You're confusing him now.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

You have some nerve, he thinks.

Your hands have found a new home resting atop his head, with your fingers combing through his hair and tracing up and down the curve of his antlers.

It becomes a nightly routine—him on the barstool or sitting in front of the piano and you standing behind him with your fingers tangled in his hair and your chin on his head, perched right between the horns. Others in the hotel have started to raise a brow, but you don't seem to care.

So when you finally decide to break routine, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from him, his eye twitches.

There isn't even an audience tonight, everyone else already tucked into bed save for Husk behind the bar who's too busy with a bottle to care. The silence between you is heavy as lead.

"Is something the matter?" Alastor finally abruptly asks, eyes narrowed at you from the side. You shift uncomfortably.

"Why would something be the matter?"

He's not in the mood for games right now. "This is the first time you've sat away from me in months," he observes.

You look at him, surprised by his hostility over this. "Well, Lucifer told me that you don't like—"

"Lucifer," he interrupts, head now whipping to the side so he can fully glare at you. "Knows nothing."

You blink at him, stunned. With the way he's acting, he almost seems... annoyed that you've decided to stop being so handsy?

Silence overcomes you again as you just stare at each other, completely at a loss of words. Alastor finally realizes his snappiness and composes himself once more, exhaling through his teeth.

His smile softens at you, missing its usual edge. You know him like this the best—head in your lap and antlers exposed. It's familiar to you in a way that it could never be to anyone else. At least, you hope that's true.

"He knows nothing," the radio demon says one more time for good measure, eyes drifting shut under the weight of your hands.

Alastor has never liked to be touched before. But maybe there is a first time for everything, and maybe the safety of your touch brings him enough ease that you're the first he admits he can tolerate.

His smile says it all. He's content like this, even if he would deny it with his chest if you ever told anyone else.

"Okay," you breathe. "I believe you."

[frutavel]

Average sketch refinining process feat Iena: the rough stages are to get the general idea down, the refining is for property putting down body shapes, posing and expressions

Hoping to finish this one soon because c'mon look at her. She deserves it <3

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Fever

Summary: You're ovulating- It's that time of month where you find yourself turning into an unspeakably horny monster with just one problem that Javi knows exactly how to help you fix.

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.7K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (do better, but also, who am I to say?) oral (m and f receiving), vaginal fingering, paise kink, an unspeakably explicit breeding kink (I ain't sorry about it), creampie, cum play, talks of starting a family, calling Javi "Daddy" and meaning it (help), the sweetest softest sex, yet somehow the filthiest, nastiest sex at the same time??? god these two love each other so much it makes me SICK

A/N: ... If you know me, no you don't. I'm so sorry y'all, I am ovulating and absolutely FERAL, I am truly thinking that someone may need to come put me down at this point because.... yeah... raise your hand if you're surprised Madeline has yet another story with Javier Peña and a big, fat, nasty breeding kink?! Oh look!! It's no one!!! ANYWHO, don't mind me while I foam at the mouth for the next 24-48 hours, BYEEEEEEEEEE

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

If there was one thing that you knew about Javi, it was that he was one of the most handsome, attractive men you had ever met. 

His dark, curly hair. 

His mustache. 

His sweet brown puppy dog eyes. 

His absolutely incomprehensible shoulder to waist ratio. 

Your husband had it all. That, you knew for a fact. 

Truth be told, there wasn’t really much that you ever thought Javi could do to be hotter than he already was. 

That was until a few months ago, when you had recently stopped taking your birth control and you could quite literally feel yourself morph into the insatiably feral, horny mess that you became when you were ovulating. 

And when that was the case, not only was he the hottest man you had ever laid eyes on in your entire life, you were quite literally ready to rip his clothes right off of him at every single opportunity possible. 

You could practically feel the change in your body when you woke up this morning- the soft sunlight of Saturday morning spilling through your curtains as you rolled over to see Javi, mouth slightly agape as he snored, face buried in his pillow and messy brown curls flopping over his head. 

God, does he always look this hot when he sleeps? You thought to yourself, slowly stirring awake, stretching your arms over your head before creeping out of bed to make yourself some coffee to bring back upstairs with you while you waited for Javi to wake up. 

As the bittersweet aroma and quiet, rhythmic drip of the coffee hitting the bottom of the pot began to gently rouse you from your sleepy state, you couldn’t help but shake the warm, stirring sensation in your stomach from the image of Javi sleeping next to you in bed. 

Elbows propped up against the counter, chin resting in your palms, you closed your eyes, picturing him- His sweet soft smile as you kissed his plush lips, the way his big hands roamed across your hips and back as he pulled you closer to his chest, the bulge of his cock pressed against your thigh before he- 

“What are you doing up, cariño?” Javi’s soft and sleepy voice cooed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his chest to your back as he planted a gentle kiss on your shoulder, his presence enough to snap you out of your daydream, but not enough to shake the dull ache that had been growing between your legs from the moment you woke up. 

“I was just gonna make some coffee and bring it back up to bed. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, baby.” You sighed, a smirk growing between your cheeks as you turned around to face him, Javi now caging you between his body and the counter as his hands splayed planted on either side of you. He looked down at you with his half-awake gaze and sleepy smile, still in nothing but his boxers, his tanned skin and barely there freckles glowing in the morning sunlight creeping through your kitchen window. 

“Don’t apologize, mi amor. Just wanted to know where my wife was. Glad I found her.” He chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, only pulling away to quietly whisper, “Good morning, hermosa.” 

And while it was nothing but a simple good morning kiss, the way Javi’s lips met yours sent a spark off inside you, quickly leaning back to pull him closer to you as you draped his arms around his neck, a soft moan escaping from your parted mouth, feeling a grin growing across Javi’s face in response. 

“Mhmmm, well, a very good morning to you then. My bedhead and morning breath really doin’ it for you, huh?” Javi smirked, lowering his hands to rest on your hips, gently toying with the waistband of your sleep shorts. 

“Sorry, I uh- you just, God, you look really good this morning. Can we, um, ya know, maybe go back upstairs?” You stammered, so enamored with Javi’s presence that you could barely get a coherent thought out as you stared up at your husband, already feeling a damp patch beginning to grow in your underwear, stomach churning with arousal. 

“Yeah? Mi esposa muy dulce (my sweet wife), you want me to-” 

Ring, ring, ringggggg. Ring, ring, ringggggg. Ring, ring, ringggggg

“Who the fuck is calling me this early…” 

Javi’s face scrunched in frustration at the sound of his cell phone ringing on the kitchen counter, reaching over you to see the expression in his face shift to concern as he read the caller ID, quickly opening up his phone to answer. 

“Hey, Pops. What’s goin’ on? Everything okay? Again? Fuck… Yeah, just um- shit, yeah, I’ll be over in 30. Okay. Yup. Yeah, bye Pops.” Javi let out a deep sigh, running his hands over his face and through the sleep curled ends of his dark hair, his grumpy pout telling you that your morning was not going to go the way you thought it was 30 seconds ago. “The gate that Pops had installed last week fell down overnight and now all the cows are loose in the pasture… I gotta go over there and help him put it back up before it gets even worse. I’m so sorry, Hermosa.” 

“It’s okay.” You shrugged, trying your best to mask your horny disappointment. 

“It hopefully shouldn’t take that long. I should be back before lunchtime, okay? And when I get back, if you still want,” he paused, letting his palm slide along your jaw, cradling your cheek before pressing another soft kiss onto your lips, “We can pick up where we left off.” 

“Promise?” You smirked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Yo prometo (I promise).” 

Wanting to give Javi any chance of leaving the house without trapping him in your bedroom, you tried your best to keep yourself busy while he quickly got ready and grabbed his things to head to the Peña Ranch, giving him a quick kiss goodbye before watching him back out of your driveway in his truck, the image of him with one hand behind the passenger seat at the other with his palm to the steering wheel making you just about drop to your knees for reasons you thought you couldn’t explain. 

You hoped that with Javi gone, you could at least be a little productive in getting some things done around the house before he returned, but it seemed like with everything that you did and anywhere you went in your house, you couldn’t help but find more reasons to add to the insatiable desire building in your core. 

While you were trying to make breakfast, you couldn’t help but stare at Javi’s favorite coffee mug, the Empire Strikes Back cup he had claimed as his at your apartment when you had first started dating.  You couldn’t keep yourself from imagining the width of his huge hands wrapping around it, dwarfing the mug in his grasp, thinking about how good those same hands would feel all over you. 

After that, came trying to do the laundry, where you caught yourself sniffing Javi’s shirts, the overpowering and familiar scent of his cologne and sweat seeping through the fabric, driving you absolutely crazy, wishing you could find a way to drown in his scent. 

Finally, in your very valiant effort to try and make your bed, you found yourself laying face down in Javi’s pillow, somehow leaving the sheets and comforters tangled and tossed about worse than you had found them. 

“What the fuck is wrong with me today…”  You whispered to yourself, now sitting on the couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels on your TV, somehow still even hornier than you were when you woke up this morning. You let your gaze wander away from the TV, examining the walls of your family room until you landed on your wedding photos hung across your wall, smiling to yourself as you looked at the portraits, reliving the moments of the happiest day of your life. 

It wasn’t until you glanced at one of the photos of you and Javi surrounded by your family in a candid moment where Javi had hoisted your niece on his hip to dance with her during your reception, the image making your stomach flip with an overwhelming need. After doing the quick math in your head, it hit you like a thousand pound ton of bricks why you had been so worked up all goddamn day. 

You were ovulating, and you needed Javi to put a baby into you right now.  

As if the universe had magically heard your prayers, you turned your head to hear your garage door opening and the familiar stomp of Javi’s boot covered footsteps trudging down the hallway. Like a moth to a flame, your heart began to race as you watched Javi’s broad body approach you, your jaw practically dropping at his appearance. 

Javi was now glistening with a light sheen of sweat, his curls sticking to his damp forehead, and the sleeves of his button down shirt now rolled up past his elbows, the buttons once done up to near his neck before he left now trailing open to the middle of his chest, exposing the warm glow of his tanned skin underneath. 

“Hey hermosa, I’m home! Ended up being a way easier fix than Pops thought and- Oh!” 

Before Javi could even get out the rest of his sentence, you were trapping his words in your own mouth, feverishly bringing your lips to his as you grabbed fistfulls of his shirt, kissing him like every bone in your body depended on it. 

Javi stood there for a moment, almost dumbfounded and frozen, wondering what had warranted such a greeting before leaning in to reciprocate, snaking his hands to your sides and grabbing your waist, pulling away only to try and understand the reason for his passionate welcome. 

“H-hi baby. Everything okay?” 

“Mhmmmmmm.” 

“Not that I’m mad about it, but I feel like you’re greeting me like I’m coming home from war.” Javi laughed to himself quietly, looking down at you with a smirking suspicion. 

“I missed you. I need you so bad, Javi.” You moaned, pressing up to lock your lips to his again, this time Javi matching your intensity as your mouths crashed into each other. 

“Is this all from this morning?” Javi managed to ask between parted kisses, his grip tightening around you as he pulled you closer to his chest. 

“This morning,” you paused, beginning to kiss him between each thought, “right now,” your hands began to roam up his chest, sneaking under the fabric of his shirt, “all the time,” fingers now working at frantically undoing the buttons, “fuck, everything about you. You’re so fucking sexy, Javi. Do you know that? God, I’m so lucky.” At this point, it felt like the words were flowing out of you in a horny and unstoppable stream of consciousness, babbling between desperate kisses pressed against Javi’s lips. “I need you so bad. I want you fuck me, Javi. Fuck, I- I want you to put a baby in me.” 

Your last sentence had Javi frozen in place once again, pulling away just to make sure he had heard you correctly, even though the boyish grin growing ear to ear across his face seemed to be enough confirmation. The two of you had been trying ever since you had gotten back from your honeymoon, but now that you were to the point that your birth control was out of your system and your cycle was back to normal, it felt just a little more real to the both of you. 

“You want me to put a baby in you, mi amor? That what you want?” Javi groaned, his voice rumbling low in his chest as a hungry glaze painted itself across his chocolate brown eyes, making your pussy throb at hearing him say it back to you. 

“Mhmmmmm.” You nodded frantically, too caught up in your own desire to find any words to string together into a coherent sentence. “I think I’m ovulating, so it could really happen this time. Please, baby, I-” 

This time, it was Javi’s turn to cut you off, his arms scooping below your legs to hoist you up around him, legs locking around his hips as he carried you down the hallway towards your bedroom, your bodies banging and bumping against the walls and door frames in a frantic race to your bed without any regard for spatial awareness.  

As soon as you were close enough, Javi was tossing you on the bed, frantically stripping himself of his shirt and working his way down to his jeans before he realized you were sitting up, already toying with his button and zipper. You pushed his pants down his legs, followed by his boxers, revealing his cock, fully erect and weeping with precum at the tip. It wasn’t long until you were scrambling off the bed and dropping to your knees in front of him, licking the salty tang of spend off his tip before he could protest that he needed to take care of you first. 

“Hermosa, I- Oh fuckkkk-” He groaned, feeling your jaw go slack as you took his length into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks until you could feel him in the back of your throat, pulling back to look up at him with batted lashes as you kissed him up and down his shaft. 

“I wanna suck your dick, Javi. Wanna show you how much I love it. Wanna feel you down my throat before you fuck me.” You moaned, rubbing your legs together to try and ease the ache between your legs, your pussy so wet and puffy that slick and arousal were dripping from your cunt and coating the inside of your thighs. 

“Fuck me…” Javi muttered under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut to regain his composure before looking back down at you, slowly sucking at his tip, your tongue swirling around the sensitive ridges of his cock. “Okay, baby. Show me how bad you need me before I put my dick in your tight little pussy, huh?” 

Inch by inch, you took him back down your throat until you were brushing up against the curls at his base, the sweet and musky scent of him filling your nostrils as you inhaled. “Oh fuck, Osita. Holy shit.” His voice rasped, hitching in the back of his throat watching your mouth fill with his cock. His fingers ran through your hair, tugging a little tighter as your pace began to quicken, his grunts and moans becoming louder with each push and pull. “Fuck, such a good girl taking me so well. So fucking pretty when you suck my cock baby, holy fuck.” 

For as much as Javi wanted you to keep going until he was spilling down your throat, he needed to save every last drop for when he came inside you, fucking you full of him until he knew it took. Feeling his balls begin to draw up into his stomach, he forced himself to pull you off him, panting to catch his breath before he spoke. “I don’t wanna cum yet, baby, and if you keep going like that I’m gonna bust.  Fuck, you’re so good to me. Lay down on the bed, Hermosa. Let me take care of you. Need to taste you.” 

Instantly, Javi was pulling you up and sitting you on the bed, letting your back hit the mattress as he settled between your legs, tugging your bottoms off until they were in a crumpled pile on the floor. his hands slide down the inside of your thighs, pushing them apart to reveal the wet, slick, and puffy mess your pussy had already become without even being touched. Javi chuckled to himself, awestruck by the sight in front of him, kissing and nipping at the meat of your legs, teasing you with how dangerously close he was to your cunt and finally giving you what you needed. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet, cariño.” Letting his hands shift down, his fingers ghosted across your core as his thumbs slid through the lips of your pussy, spreading it open even further, making you whimper in anticipation. “Goddamn, she’s so pretty. Prettiest fucking pussy I’ve ever seen. Who’s pussy is this, baby girl?” He smirked, barely kissing your clit, driving you absolutely wild as you squirmed beneath his touch, desperate for him to do something, anything, to ease your ache.  

“Y-yours, Javi. It’s all yours, baby. Only yours.” You whined, gazing down at him with a rampant need in your eyes, fisting at your bedsheets to find somewhere to try and release your tension. 

“Fucking right it is.” 

His head then dipped between your legs, arms draped across your stomach holding you in place as he began to eat you out like a man being served his last meal on this earth. Broad, flat strokes of his tongue slid between your folds, pressing against your clit with the perfect amount of pressure he knew would have you crumbling beneath him. 

You couldn’t help but rithe under his touch, instinctively bucking your hips at his face, overwhelmed by the way Javi was relentlessly drinking you up, his fingers gripping tighter to the meat of your thighs to hold you in place as you could feel the tingle beginning to build at the base of your spine, your back arching in desperate anticipation. 

Almost as if he could read your mind, Javi easily slipped two fingers inside you, curving in just the right way to bump against your g-spot, fucking in and out of you to fill the emptiness in your pussy he knew you craved. 

“J-Javi, oh fuck- don’t stop baby, please, don’t stop.” You whimpered, your eyes nearly rolling in the back of your head as you felt your orgasm begin to build, cunt clenching tighter around Javi’s fingers and beginning to flutter while he sucked on your clit. You could feel his smug smirk pressed against your heat as your hand shot down between your legs, grabbing and tugging on fistfulls of his thick locks, your tell tale sign that it was only a few more moments before you were about to come undone. 

“That’s it, hermosa. Say my name, baby girl. Let me hear you.” 

And there you were, chanting his name like a prayer, over and over again until you reached your breaking point. 

“Javi, Javi, Javi, J-Javi, J-aaaahhhhhh, oh fuck-” 

In an instant, you could feel a wave of pleasure crashing through you in toe curling delight, your orgasming ripping through every inch of your body with undeniable intensity, your slick soaking Javi as he drank up every last drop of you, savoring the sweet taste of you on his tongue. 

You sat there for a moment, back against the mattress as your chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, blissed out of your mind as you sat propped up on your elbows, staring at Javi, proudly wiping the slick covering his face with the back of his hand. 

“Javi, holy fuck, baby.” You gasped, swallowing hard as you watched Javi begin to hover over you, making his way up your body one slow, wet kiss at a time, nipping at the soft skin of your stomach before cupping your breasts, taking one in his mouth, sucking and flicking at your pebbled nipples with his tongue while he rolled the other between his fingers. The whimpers escaping from your lips were damn near pathetic, but considering how worked up you were, you could have probably cum again just from this alone. 

“You still want me to fuck a baby into you, Hermosa?” Javi asked all too knowingly, tongue darting between the smirk of his parted lips, trailing languid kisses along your collarbone and up your neck.  

“Y-yes. Fuck, yes.” You moaned, breath hitching at the back of your throat as Javi sucked at your pulse point. 

“Tell me how badly you want it, pretty girl.” Javi whispered, his voice rumbling low in his throat as he nipped at your ear. “Tell me how much you want me to give you a baby.” 

“F-fuck, so badly Javi. Please, baby. I want you to so bad. I want you to more than anything. I wanna make you a daddy, Javi.” 

If Javi had any ounce of self composure left, that alone was enough to make him crumble, letting out an audible groan, his dick even harder than he already thought it could be. 

“Fuck me…” Javi groaned, sucking you in for another electric kiss. “Turn around, baby.” 

Scooching yourself further up the mattress, you laid with your stomach to the bed as Javi climbed behind you, swiping his cock through your folds before sinking into your heat, bottoming out against your cervix and whimpering at the sweet sting of his stretch, sucking him in with your warm, velvety walls. 

Slowly, Javi began to thrust in and out of you, taking his time with each stroke as he laid his chest against your back, interlocking his fingers with yours outstretched above your head on the bedspread, head buried in the crook of your neck. 

Each push and pull of his hips elicited more lewd sounds than the last- you were practically dripping at this point from how worked up you were, and could hear the wetness pooling in your pussy, filling the room with obscenely filthy sounds. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet. You hear that, Momma? You hear how wet you are for me? Hear how badly your tight little pussy wants me to fill her up? Pump her full of me?” Javi moaned, his thrusts becoming faster and deeper, his grip around your hands even tighter than before, biting down on your shoulder trying his best to keep from falling apart at just how good you felt around him, coating every inch of his length in your arousal.  

“I want you to cum so deep inside me, Javi. P-please, baby.” You begged, craning your neck behind you just enough to see the wrecked expression painted across Javi’s face that mirrored yours. 

Suddenly, you could feel Javi grabbing your hips, flipping you over as your back bounced against the mattress, now staring up at him. He ran his hands up the back of your thighs until your knees were against your stomach, spread open as wide as you could be for him. 

As he sunk back in your heat, he caged himself over you, devouring you in a desperate and hungry kiss of mangled tongue and teeth, catching your moans in his mouth as he bottomed out inside you. 

“Need to see that beautiful face when you cum for me, cariño. Wanna see you when you soak my cock, w-watch, oh fuck- you when I fuck you so full of me, I’ll knock you up tonight.” Javi moaned between kisses. 

The new angle had Javi pounding into you in the way that had your jaw going slack and your cunt beginning to clench tighter and tighter around his length, once again feeling the knot in your stomach beginning to tighten with arousal. 

“P-please, Javi. F-fuck- You feel so good, don’t stop, baby.” You whimpered, your eyes locking with his, your heart racing as you stared into the deep chocolate brown of his gaze.

“I won’t stop, hermosa. Won’t stop until I fill this perfect pussy up. Fuck you so full of me, I’ll be dripping out of you for days. Won’t stop until I fuck a baby into you, get you pregnant, watch you give us a family- Jesus, fuck- Fuck, I love you so much.” 

Snaking his hand between your bodies, he reached between your legs to rub at your clit, rhythmically circling your sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you, knowing at this rate, you weren’t going to last much longer, and that meant neither was he. 

“I love you too, Javi. More than anything.”  

 Each thrust of his hips sending you closer to the brink of collapse than the last, the noises of your wanton moans, skin slapping against each other and the wetness of Javi’s cock sloppily pumping in and out of your cunt had the room sounding borderline pornographic. You could feel your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head as the coil in your belly was about to reach a breaking point until the firm grasp of Javi’s palm around your jaw forced your gaze up at him once again. 

“Eyes on me, baby. Eyes on me when you cum. Need to see you when I fuck a baby into you, Momma.” 

That was all you needed to finally send you over the edge, your body exploding with pleasure as your orgasm overtook you, your thighs shaking and voice trembling with wrecked pleas of Javi’s over and over.

“J-Javi, Javi, Javiiiii, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, oh God, fuck, baby, fuck!” 

As you gushed around his cock, your pussy gripped him like a vice as you came. Javi’s hips began to stutter, his pace now becoming frantic and sloppy knowing how close he was to following suit, losing all inhibitions as you sobbed out in ecstasy. 

“That’s it, baby. Mierda- Fuck, I’m close. Gonna fill this pussy up- oh shit- so full it’ll f-fucking take. I know it will. I p-promise, I- oh fuck!” 

With one final stammer of his hips, Javi’s orgasm consumed him, his spend coating every inch of your walls as he spilled into you, milking himself of every last drop as he came. His body slumped into yours, chests rising and falling in sync as both of you laid in post-orgasmic bliss, completely lost in the sensation of each other. 

After a moment, Javi finally pulled out his softening cock, making you whine at the loss. Sitting back on his haunches, he couldn't help but admire the absolute mess between your legs- your pussy so puffy and swollen, covered in your shiny slick, and dripping with his cum. A satisfied smirk spread across his face as he watched his spend begin to leak out of you, knowing that you were overflowing with him. 

His fingers traced down your thighs, dragging his cum back to your cunt, making sure a single drop didn't go to waste. You couldn't help but sob as his curved fingers push back inside your pussy, making sure you stay stuffed full of him so he knew it took, because God, did want it more than anything to take. 

Gently pulling back out, Javi couldn’t help but lean down to kiss you again, grabbing your face as he peppers you with kisses, making you squeal in a ticklish delight. 

“I love you so much, mi amor.” Javi cooed, his forehead resting against yours as he softly stroked your face, your heart swelling with joy and excitement at the man you hoped from 9 months from now, would be the father to your child. 

“I love you too, Jav. You’re gonna be such a good Daddy.” You smirked, teasing him just enough to make him let out a sigh, biting down on his lip. 

“You’re gonna fucking kill me with that one. You know that?” 

“Well it’s true!” You laughed, giving him a playful nudge, running your hand through the sweaty curls at the nape of his neck. “You think this one will be the one?” 

“I hope so. If not, guess we’re just gonna have to keep trying every day till it is, huh?” 

“If you keep fucking me like that, we’re gonna have 12 kids before you know it.” 

“I mean… wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” Javi grinned, rasing his eyebrows at you with a boyish glow. 

“Javi! We are not having 12 kids!” You protested, rolling your eyes at your husband. 

“Osita, if you keep coming on to me like you did today, we may not have a fucking choice.”  

Taglist:

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[florestalio]

THE PERFECT COPY — y.jw

finding a job in the current state of the world was a hassle, but given your skills, it wasn't hard to find a decently paying job as a doorman. your job is to distinguish the doppelgangers from the real humans. simple enough, right? right?

GENRE— that's not my neighbour au, dystopian au, doppelganger au

WARNINGS— noncon/dubcon, mentions of killing, blood, guns, unprotected sex (don't!), big huge dick!won, monster fucking, meandom!won, implied munch!won, nicknames (slut, doll, princess, etc.), dacryphilia, fingering, manhandling, bondage, lot of slick (an almost concerning amount), marking (hickeys), cum eating (not oral), missionary, mating press, bulge kink, degradation, praise, possessive!won, let me know if I missed any!

WORDCOUNT— 7k

NOTE— i'm well aware that a similar fic has already been published by a different author, but mine was almost completely inspired by this video, so it's extremely different from the fic that had already been posted. bnd ver here!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

IN A WORLD WHICH IS SLOWLY, but steadily getting overtaken by doppelgangers, finding a job is one of the hardest tasks — even if a lot of new jobs have been created for this purpose.

‘Doorman’, a post that was one of the more frowned upon jobs with a very low salary, had now become one of the most high paying jobs — since it was their skills and abilities that would determine whether the people in an apartment or complex lived or not. The job sounded fairly simple — figure out if the person wanting to enter is a human or a convincing doppelganger. Let only the humans in, get rid of the doppelgangers with the help of the D.D.D — another job created for the purpose of eradication of the doppelgangers from the world.

While the job of doormen did sound simple, it obviously wasn't that easy. Doppelgangers could be very convincing, their morphing abilities weren't a matter of joke. But, no matter how human they seemed, at the end of the day, they weren't human.

While detecting them could be very hard, doppelgangers… aren't the smartest tool in the shed. They always have some kind of imperfections, no matter how minor, in their appearances, in the way they behave — and many more. This is where doormen step in. They are skilled people with extremely sharp observation skills, which they use to figure out these imposters, and thus save the lives of a lot more people than they think they do.

You were one of these people with sharp observation skills that got chosen as a doorman of an apartment complex, situated near the suburbs. While you weren't getting a salary as high as the skies, it was still pretty high, considering that people from remote locations were impersonated a lot more than people from the cities, as these people are easier targets than them.

According to your job description, the old doorman was taking a long, well-deserved vacation. You were supposed to replace him for as long as he was on vacation, after which, you had no idea what would happen. Would your job be gone? Were you going to keep your job? Would you work alongside the old doorman? So many questions, yet they all remained unanswered.

You shook off those thoughts, focusing on the present. You looked around your new office, trying to make yourself familiar with your surroundings. Everything you needed as a doorman seemed to be exactly where you needed it; a telephone, checklists to grant entries, an entry list, records of all the people that lived in the building, their phone numbers, the D.D.D phone number, and whatnot. There was even an emergency button on the wall, which was attached with a metal partition that covered the window in front of the desk when activated.

The presence of all these faculties just made your work a lot easier. You took a seat, right in front of the desk. As soon as you sat down, the phone rang. You picked it up, only to hear a recorded message from the previous doorman. Turns out, his name was Sunghoon, and he had recorded it for you to listen to, since he didn’t wish for any mishaps to happen to you. As thoughtful as he was, he was also extremely repetitive. After several ‘do not let them in’-s, did the recording finally end, making you breathe out a sigh of relief.

Now comes the tough part. Doing your job.

IT WAS A QUARTER TO MIDNIGHT. After a hard day’s work of letting in the actual residents and calling the D.D.D upon the impersonators, the entry list had only two more people left. Namely, a businessman by the name of ‘Park Jongseong’ who lived alone in the third room on the first floor, and ‘Yang Jungwon’, the milkman who lived alone in the second room of the third floor.

Over the course of the day, you had seen doppelgangers of all kinds, some a lot better at impersonating than the other. There were several times when you had almost missed a sudden flash of an extra pair of arms, or different eye colors — as impressed as you were, you had immediately called the D.D.D on them.

Sometimes the doppelgangers looked completely, utterly, perfect copies of the person they were impersonating. Had it not been for a slight difference in their ID’s or entry requests, you would have probably let them in.

Suddenly the sound of footsteps alerted you. As you looked up, you were met with the face of Jongseong, Jay for short. He gave you a half smile. “Sorry for bothering you this late, a client of mine was giving me a lot of trouble. Honestly, how is it my fault that the delivery was being delayed? Do they not realize that in the present situation, it is hard to navigate through the innumerous doppelgangers that are just waiting to pounce at any given moment of the day? It's truly very inconsiderate of–”

You interrupted his rambling. “Sir I require your ID in order to let you in. As you mentioned, it is already extremely late, so please, let’s not delay this any further.” You felt a little guilty for how you were acting towards him, but his rambling was taking up too much of your precious time.

His eyes immediately widened, before he started rummaging in his pockets. “Right — I'm really sorry, I'm not sure why I started to rant to you — here's my ID–”

You took a close look at the ID, trying to find any kind of faults in it. You heard him start to rant again. “—and honestly it was such a lovely day too, but this stupidly inconsiderate client had to ruin it.” You looked up at him, watching him continue to rant about the most random topics, which… didn’t really make any sense. “—so many ice cream trucks, but all of them had crashed into each other. The amount of people going up to those and stealing ice creams from them was actually insane–”

Suddenly you noticed something amiss on his face, protruding from his hat. Without missing a beat, you asked him. “Sir, what's that on your face?”

Jay immediately stopped his rambling. “My face? Wh– What’s wrong with it? It– It's just a normal face!–”

Your hand started to creep towards the emergency button. “There are tiny hands on your face.”

Jay panicked, watching you reach towards the emergency button. “Wait!– I have an explanation for this — see I was talking to this little girl called Jiah right? So I called out to her ‘Hey Jiah! Can you give me a hand with this?’ and she came and put her hands on my face! No wait don't–”

It was too late. You had already pushed the emergency button, watching the metal partition fall into place, blocking your view of him. You could hear the doppelganger wailing about how it was ‘a perfect disguise’. You quickly contacted the D.D.D, letting them know of the situation. Within five minutes you heard them arrive, screams of ‘get away from the door you filthy animal!’ and ‘but I don't wanna’ filled up the air, along with the sounds of guns going off, before it all went silent.

The partition suddenly went up again, a bloodied yellow hazmat suit with the D.D.D logo coming into your view. The person in the suit spoke. “Cleaning protocol has been completed. Please feel free to carry on with your job.”

You whispered a small thanks, watching them leave. It was almost midnight now, and you still had to let in two more of the apartment’s residents. It almost annoyed you, but this was in your job description when you had applied for it, so you had to suck it up.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps reached your ears again, along with a voice. “God, I'm so sorry for coming this late, Sunghoon, I swear I'll come earlier next time–” The voice stopped short, and so did your breath.

Good fucking gracious. You did look at the profiles of all the residents in the building, but none of them looked as good as Jungwon did up close.

Jungwon, a milkman by profession, was absolutely drop dead gorgeous. Even with his tired eyes and exhausted appearance in general, he looked so fucking… ravishing.

He cleared his throat. “I'm so sorry, it's usually Sunghoon who sits here — are you new?”

You nodded, licking your lips nervously. “Yeah I am… Sunghoon went for a vacation, a long one apparently, so I'm here to replace him for the time being.”

He nodded in understanding. “That makes sense. Good thing he went for a vacation, god knows he needed one. We all need one, given the state of the world at present — how are you liking it at the new job? Is it giving you too much trouble?”

You shook your head. “Oh no, not at all �� there were a lot of posers, but I handled them just fine. I think I'll be alright.”

“That's good. Oh, I remember my first experience with a doppelganger — it was almost terrifying. See, there was this — this woman, who lived here and… it was a very convincing disguise. The only thing wrong with her was that… there was a mole on her right cheek, except that it was supposed to be on the left side. When the D.D.D was called on her, she… kept screaming and screaming — all that just… it takes a toll on you. Not being able to recognise them, that is.”

You gulped, barely hearing what he was saying, too focused on the movement of his lips. “Yea… that's — yea, it's scary.”

He offered you a half smile. “It is. But what you're doing is important. You're saving a lot of lives this way, and that is all that matters. That's what is important.”

“Thank you — I appreciate that, I truly do.”

“You're welcome. I may not know you personally yet, but I can tell that you're an honest person. People like you… they tend to overthink these things. So always remember that… what you're doing is great. These doppelgangers are evil, and they deserve what they are getting.”

You gave him a grateful smile, once again thanking him for his kind words. He gave you one back. “Not a big deal… princess. Here's my ID… and my entry request.”

As you took his ID and his entry request, you froze, suddenly aware of the nickname that he used to refer to you. “P-Princess?–”

Jungwon had a tiny smirk on his face this time. “Yea? Do you not like the nickname? I can stop–”

You were quick to deny it. “No I didn't mean — uhm — I do like it…”

An amused glint was present in his eye. “I see. So… are my documents in order, princess?”

You nodded, feeling heat creep up on your cheeks. “Yep, all good.” A sudden idea struck you. “Actually wait… there is something wrong.”

His smile vanished. “What?– Something's wrong?”

You nodded. “Yea… with your face.”

He raised a shaky hand to touch his face, something you missed. “M– My face? What's wrong with it?”

You smiled at him, your eyes twinkling with amusement. With as much cheesiness as you could muster in your voice, you replied. “Yea, it's called ‘handsomeness’.” You immediately cringed at yourself. What kind of a pathetic attempt at flirting was that?

However, it seemed to sway Jungwon. He immediately blinked, before letting out a relieved grin, a faint blush coating his cheeks. “Oh?– You got me there. Thank you — you're extremely gorgeous too.”

Now it was your turn to feel shy. Your cheeks were aflame, heat creeping up your neck. Were you seriously flirting instead of doing your job? This late at night?

You shyly smiled at him, thanking him. He gave you another smile back, this one seeming a lot more cocky than the last. “Can I go now, pretty girl? Or do you have more tricks up your sleeve?”

You giggled a little, pressing the green button to let him in. “Nope! Go right in.”

He gave you a small smirk, tipping his hat towards you in the same manner a cowboy would, before disappearing through the door.

Around three minutes after Jungwon went in, the sound of footsteps reached your ears again, only this time, it wasn’t exactly the sound of a person walking. It sounded like someone was running. Fast.

You heard the sound of panting, before… Jungwon came into view. Only this time, he had blood all over him.

This was obviously a doppelganger, but before you could reach for the emergency button, the fake Jungwon spoke. “Oh my fucking god — hey I’m guessing you’re new? Listen, this is really important. Did you see… me earlier?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. This was a new strategy. No doppelganger had used a strategy quite like this one earlier today. “Uh-huh.”

He banged on the glass partition with his fist, making you flinch. His eyes looked crazier than before. “I’m not playing around here. Did you or did you not see me earlier?”

Your hand quickly went to the emergency button. Noticing that, he started panicking. “No no no — don’t press that, just listen to me. I was knocked out — he stole my keys! — everything, he stole everything… even my face! Please tell me you didn’t let him in.”

Your hand hovered over the button, his words making you hesitate from pushing it. “I did let him in…”

His eyes widened. “Oh fuck — this is bad, this is bad, this is bad — listen, you have to call the D.D.D — right now. Do it! Call them right now!”

You gazed at him, conflicted. He sounded so… convincing. But so did the first Jungwon. Which one of them was telling the truth?

You almost wanted to scoff at yourself. You were supposed to have some top tier observation skills to be able to figure out who is a doppelganger and who is not. So why was it so hard for you to tell in this case?

You didn’t even realize when your hand fell on the button, pressing it by accident. As the alarm bells sounded and the metal barrier began to fall, several shouts of ‘No!’ could be heard from the outside. You sat there rigidly, not even aware of when the door to your office opened, the person on the other side of the door slipping inside. It wasn’t until he put a hand on your shoulder, causing you to flinch, when you realized that Jungwon, the first one, was inside.

You relaxed for a moment, before he bent down, whispering in your ear, causing you to freeze. “You did a good job princess. Such a good job. Now continue to be a good girl and sit here quietly like a good fucking girl would, yea?”

As he spoke, the realization dawned upon you, the cold dread that came with it washing over you like a bucket of ice. The second Jungwon was the real one.

As you sat there frozen, Jungwon — or rather, the doppelganger — called up the D.D.D, informing them of a ‘doppelganger’ situation. Within five minutes, they had arrived, screams and sounds of gunshots once again filling up the air. Once they stopped, the metal partition opened, once again revealing a yellow hazmat suit stained with blood.

The D.D.D agent recited the same words that it did everytime, before walking away. As soon as the D.D.D had evacuated the building, ‘Jungwon’ clicked the emergency button again, quickly pressing another button to deactivate the alarm bells, so that only the metal partition fell down. He gripped the handles of your chair, spinning it to make you face him. You gulped as you faced him, the sinister smirk on his face filled you up with a fear so intense, that it gripped you in an almost vice-like grip. It was terrifying — he was terrifying.

His eyes raked over you, drinking in your fearful expression. The shaking of your body, the pleading in your eyes, the nervous gulping — all of it filled him up with a foreign emotion — an emotion that made him want to devour you whole.

He lifted up a hand to your face, holding your chin between his fingers, leaning your face upwards. He himself leaned down, stopping just a breath away from your lips, causing your own breath to hitch. Whether it was from fear, or anticipation, he didn't know — not that it would change anything.

He tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, maintaining eye contact with you. “Are you surprised? That I'm not who you thought I was?”

You gulped, too afraid to speak. Although the shaking of your eyes told him what he wanted to know.

He smirked lightly. “Does it make you feel angry? To know that you have been finally bested by a — what do you humans call us again? Ah, a ‘doppelganger’.”

‘Anger’ was the last thing you felt. Fear was all you felt — fear for both yourself, and everyone else whose life you had endangered. You were absolutely terrified, dreading your fate.

You had seen pictures of the real form of the doppelgangers — albeit just drawings; derivations from people who somehow lived to tell the tale. They were described to be completely monstrous, with yellow eyes and sharp teeth, greenish skin and huge claws that could easily rip anyone to shreds. It was only natural for you to feel terrified of your fate. Were you going to be torn to shreds by him? Or was he going to eat you? Do doppelgangers actually eat humans?

Turns out, he did plan on eating you. Devouring you actually. Just… not in the way you thought.

He traced his lip with his tongue, practically undressing you with his eyes. He was going to fucking ruin you.

He traced your lip with his thumb, forcing your mouth open. He pressed his thumb down on your tongue, watching the tears gather at your waterline and the saliva on your tongue. You were already so much fun to play with.

You wanted to cry, scream — anything to get out of this situation. You weren't trained for something like this — all the instructors just said “Catch them, or they catch you. If you're caught, consider yourself dead.” None of them ever prepared you for a situation like this.

You needed to use your own tactics, and you needed to use them fast. You stared at his eyes, trying to make sure your facial expressions didn't give away your thoughts, when suddenly, a brilliant — okay, not brilliant, but still better than nothing — idea struck you.

Your eyes suddenly fell on the door, your eyes widening slightly with a glimmer of hope. He frowned at your expression, looking backwards at the door as well, taking the bait.

You immediately pushed him off you, catching him off-guard, before quickly running to the door. But just as you were about to reach for the handle, you felt him grab your shoulder from behind, pulling you backwards in a not-so-gentle manner. He shoved you to the floor unceremoniously, causing you to scream from the impact — not that anyone would hear you, since the walls were soundproof as long as the metal partition was pulled down, and you had no way to reach the button to deactivate it.

You tried to get up, but were immediately shoved back down to the ground, with him climbing up on top of you, pinning your arms above your head. If looks could kill, you would have already been six feet under by now.

For a moment he just glared down at you, your lips quivering, your eyes shaking with unshed tears. Your chest was rising up and down erratically, downright terrified with what he was planning on doing to you. Was he going to strangle you to death? Tear you apart by hand? Break your neck? Or was he going to–

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by him. His voice was cold with a sinister undertone. “You know princess, I was going to be nice to you — go nice and slow, appreciate everything about you, take my time with you, make it memorable for you. But after this little stunt that you just pulled? I don't think you deserve kindness. If you want to be a fucking brat, acting like you weren't ready to spread your legs open for me just ten minutes ago, then I'm going to fucking treat you like one.”

Your blood ran cold. He was going to what?

You couldn't even understand where he was coming from. You were ‘acting like a brat’? Was trying to run in order to save your life a crime now? You were getting ready to ‘spread your legs for him just ten minutes ago’? First of all, it was some harmless flirting with a nice guy who you thought was human, not a fucking monster. So what the fuck was he even trying to say?

None of it mattered now — not now, when he was sliding the belt that was just there for design purposes through the hoops in your skirt. It didn't matter now, when he started to tie the belt around your wrists, ignorant to your struggles to break free. Not now, when he was grabbing the ends of your shirt, roughly shoving it up.

He couldn't shove it off you, since your hands were tied, so he proceeded to tear it off with his hands. It was an expensive shirt, but there wasn't any time to mourn the loss of your shirt — not when his hands had already moved to your skirt. He didn't even bother trying to get it off this time, simply ripping it apart like paper.

The tears finally broke free. This was it. This was your fate. You were going to get used like some pathetic doll by some monster and then tossed away once you were useless. Even death would have been a kinder fate than this.

You screwed your eyes shut when you felt him touch you over your panties, disgusted by yourself when you realized that you were, in fact, wet. You heard him let out a menacing chuckle, causing more tears to fall from your shut eyes. You felt his finger just barely trace over your covered cunt, making you squirm. He was quick to hold your legs down, before shoving a finger through your panties, causing it to stick inside your wet folds, drenching it further. You felt him leaning down towards your core, a whimper of utter despair leaving you.

He ignored you, taking a whiff of your scent. As soon as it hit him, he let out a loud groan, a quiet ‘fuck’ accompanying it. He definitely needed to eat you out, but first, he needed to stretch you out.

He gripped the waistband of your panties tightly, before ripping it off. The sound of the cotton material tearing brought a fresh batch of tears to your eyes. “P-Please — don’t do this, please–”

He quickly interrupted you by grabbing your throat, applying just enough pressure to cut off your oxygen. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t get to decide what I’ll do or not do. I gave you a chance, didn’t I? I was nice to you initially, wasn’t I? You clearly took advantage of that and tried to run, so why the fuck would I listen to you? If you don’t want to make matters worse for yourself, take what I give you like a good little slut would.”

That ruined whatever tiny hope you had of avoiding this fate. More tears fell from your eyes, causing you to bite down on your lip to conceal your sobs. For some reason, the sight of you biting your lip, paired with your tears, turned him on a lot more than it should have, causing him to grab your chin tightly.

Your eyes flew open in shock, releasing your lip from the abuse from your teeth. His eyes landed on your swollen lips, his pants growing tighter and tighter by the second. Before you could register what was happening, he smashed his lips on yours, swallowing your surprised gasp. He kissed you harshly, his movements sloppy. Saliva dripped past your mouths, smearing onto your chins, but he could care less.

He bit down on your lip, pulling it slightly with his teeth, causing a whimper to leave you involuntarily. He let out a quiet groan at the sound, before diving back inside your mouth, shoving his tongue inside your mouth. He hungrily explored your wet cavern, his hands moving to take his shirt off, the heat radiating off the two of you becoming unbearable. He grabbed your jaw tightly, tilting your head to kiss you deeper, his legs planted on either side of you.

Even if you didn’t want to enjoy it, any of it, your body couldn’t hide its true reaction. You kept letting out whimpers and moans, squirming under him. He gladly swallowed each and every sound of yours, little grunts and groans of his own leaving him. He badly wanted to grind down on you, but he had enough self control to not do that. Instead, he slid a hand down, collected the slick that kept gushing out on his fingers, before shoving his middle finger inside.

Your reaction was immediate. You let out a sharp gasp into his mouth, your hips bucking up into his. He bit down your lip at your reaction, breaking the skin and drawing out blood. He plunged his finger in deeper, feeling even more slick gushing out of you. He sucked the blood off your lip, licking the cut, moaning at the taste. Your blood ignited a fire inside him, the heat spreading to every part of him, the need to completely, utterly, ruin you for everyone else spreading to his finger tips, taking over his brain. He thrust his finger impossibly deeper, before pulling it out, causing you to let out a desperate whine into his mouth, one that was quickly replaced by a shocked moan when he plunged in two fingers at once.

You could feel your cunt stretching to accommodate his fingers, which were long and slender, allowing him to reach parts of you that no one ever did. His fingers dragged across your walls, allowing you to feel every inch of them. His fingers hit every ridge and bump perfectly, making you clench around them tightly.

He felt your pussy walls hugging his fingers, causing him to fasten up the pace of both his fingers and his mouth, swallowing up your whimpers, listening to the wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of your cunt.

He curled up his fingers, feeling your entire body shake under him. He let out a victorious smirk against your lips, having finally found your spot. He increased the pace of his fingers, making sure to curl up his fingers every time, hitting that spongy part in your walls every time with ease.

Your breathing sped up, your whimpers increasing, your wrists becoming red from how much you were struggling to get out of the tight grip of your belt wrapped around them. You could feel yourself becoming wetter and wetter, yet being so far from the edge. Something was missing, something that you desperately needed to finally teeter off the edge.

Even if you couldn’t understand what exactly you needed, ‘Jungwon’ sure did. He broke the kiss, taking in the sight of your bruised and swollen lips, before shifting his attention to your neck, immediately latching his lips on your pulse point, sucking on it harshly. He pumped his fingers into your pussy faster, his thumb moving to rub at your clit harshly. You almost screamed at the added pleasure, your walls clamping down on his fingers in a vice-like grip.

Within seconds your pussy started to convulse around his fingers. Your release gushed out of you in huge amounts, coating his fingers in a creamy white. He helped you ride out your high, shallowly pumping his fingers in you. He stopped sucking on your neck, looking at the newly formed purplish hickey on it proudly. Once you came down from your high, he slipped his fingers out with a wet ‘pop’, watching your walls flutter around nothing.

He brought his fingers to his mouth, slipping them inside, tasting your release. You watched him with hooded eyes, your chest rising up and down slowly as you tried to catch your breath. His eyes screwed shut when the taste hit him, a deep groan leaving him, one that traveled straight to your core, despite having just had one of the best orgasms of your life.

He opened his eyes, his gaze darker than before, making you gulp. He leaned down again, maintaining eye contact with you. He ran a hand through your hair, before gripping it tightly, ripping a whimper out of you. He bit his lips, whispering “God, you drive me fucking crazy” before smashing his lips onto yours. He shoved his tongue inside your mouth almost immediately, making you taste yourself.

Fuck, he would be lying if he said he wasn't dying to eat you out, but the problem in his pants would probably kill him before he had his fill of you — which was why he was furiously trying to get his stupid belt off, something which proved to be quite a challenge for no apparent reason.

When he finally managed to get it off, he threw it away somewhere in the room, out of reach. His shirt was sticking to his skin uncomfortably from how much he was sweating, so obviously that had to go too. Once it was off, he quickly shimmied out of his pants, his boxers quickly following them.

As soon as his boxers were off, his bare cock slapped on his stomach, standing tall and proud. His mushroom tip was an angry shade of red, leaking a generous amount of precum. He was both long and girthy, almost ridiculously so, making you a little concerned about the stretch — or if it would at all fit.

Of course you were anticipating it — how could you not? Yes, he was taking you without consent, but did that really matter anymore? Your morals were thrown out of the window the moment he shoved his pretty fingers into your hole. You couldn't help how much you were leaking for him then, and you certainly can't help it now. You were practically gushing down there, a puddle of your sweet slick starting to form in between your thighs. God, it was a miracle that he hadn't started eating you out like a starved man eating his first meal in days. But then again, he also couldn't wait to finally sink into your wet heat, and fuck you till all you could think about was his dick.

So that's what he did. He spread your legs further apart with his knees, settling down between them. He aligned himself with your entrance, but instead of directly pushing in, he decided to toy with you a little. After all, you were just a toy for him, weren't you? The perfect little toy — a doll if you will — for him to use, break, destroy and dispose of as he wishes.

A little whine from you caught his ears. He looked at your face, almost taken aback by your expression. Your eyes were hooded, lips swollen and glistening from your spit — possibly a result of you biting down on them. Were you… enjoying this? Did you want this?

It was hot, so undeniably hot of you to like this — not just your body, but you. There was no fucking way he was ever going to let go of you now — no, you were too perfect to lose.

He swallowed thickly, trying his best to subdue his desire of immediately plunging inside you and railing you into your next life. No, he had to be patient, in order to make it fun for him.

He tapped the head of his cock on your clit, watching even more slick pour out of you, joining the puddle on the floor. It was truly magnificent how much your body craved this — how much you craved it — almost as much as he did.

He rubbed his tip over your slit, gathering the slick from it, ripping out pitiful whimpers from you. He almost caved in to your sinful sounds — almost — before continuing to gather your slick on his mushroom tip.

He watched as your slick and his precum mixed together, forming a beautiful white mixture, something that looked almost delicious — of course he had to taste it, and make you taste it as well. You would like it anyways.

He gathered some of the mixture on his fingers, before popping them in his mouth. He closed his eyes, savoring the sinful taste. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see how much the taste affected his body, even more precum having dribbled out of his tip, falling into the puddle of your slick.

He swirled his finger in the mixture, before bringing it to your own mouth. He watched as you eagerly wrapped your lips around his digits, sucking the mixture of your wants greedily. He let out a groan, wondering if you would suck his cock the same way. But he had plenty of time to find that out later.

He pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a loud ‘pop’, ignoring your whine. He pushed his hand into the puddle of your slick, before wrapping the same hand around his ridiculously large dick, slowly pumping it. His eyes were dark as he maintained eye contact with you, taking in the way you gulped slowly. It was so cute, the way you wanted it as much as he did, and yet were afraid of it actually happening.

If he stared at your cute little lips or your pretty little eyes that were filled with both hesitation and desperation, he would definitely cum even before he had the chance to be inside your — by the looks of it, extremely tight walls.

He grabbed your legs again, spreading them even further apart, before slowly starting to push into you. He was immediately met with a lot of resistance from you, loud gasps and whimpers falling from your lips in a beautiful melody, your pussy walls clamping down tightly on his tip alone. He hissed at the pressure, gripping your hips tightly as he slowly started to push in.

The sounds of your whimpers and choked gasps increased two-fold, your walls stretching to an alarming extent as they tried to fit him. You were well aware that the ‘Jungwon’ that was fucking you wasn't the real one, that he was a monster — but you didn't realise that doppelgangers were this hung. He was big, huge even — way bigger than the average dick size. It felt like he was splitting apart your insides, but you couldn't deny the enormous amount of pleasure that accompanied the pain.

He had to suck in a breath when he had finally buried himself to the hilt inside you, your walls clamping down on him painfully. It almost felt like he willingly buried himself into a dick guillotine, that’s how tight you felt around him. It wasn’t like he could blame you either — he wasn’t human, even if he was impersonating one, all of his physical features were obviously not perfect. As for him, his imperfection happened to be his dick, which was way larger than the average human dick, almost monstrously so — not that he was complaining… and he knew you wouldn’t be either in a while, once you got used to his size.

His grip on your hips was tight enough to bruise, as he slowly pulled out almost completely, leaving only his tip inside, making you let out a sigh of relief. But that relief was short lived, because he almost immediately slammed himself back in, knocking the air out of you. It felt as if he somehow managed to fit another non-existent inch inside of you.

The squelching sound from the slide however, encouraged him to continue. You were liking it, he knew you were. That’s why you were getting even wetter than before, weren’t you? Yep, that was it. That was why your walls were clamping down on him so tightly. Your body didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to stop.

He pulled out almost completely again, before ruthlessly slamming right back in, ripping a scream out of you. But the slick that kept pouring out of you, past his cock, told him all that he needed to know. He thrusted into you mercilessly, without caring about how you felt — he knew you liked it, he was sure of it–

Your loud whimpers of pain broke him out of his daze. “P– Please, it h– hurts so much–”

His hand grabbed your neck, squeezing down on it as a warning. “Don’t fucking lie to me — you’re leaking past my cock, and you expect me to believe that you aren’t enjoying this? Stupid, fucking slut, lying to me to my face? Absolutely pathetic.”

He grabbed both of your thighs, pushing them up to your chest, before starting to thrust into you again, the ruthless pace of his hips almost bruising your thighs. The new angle allowed him to hit even deeper, your cries of pain only increasing in volume. He ignored them, focusing on how his hips snapped into yours with every thrust. “Fucking take it — you know you like this, you fucking painslut. It hurts, does it? How adorable, you fucking love it, you know you do.”

He continued to ram his hips into yours, uncaring of your discomfort — unbeknownst to you, your cries only caused him to grow harder, his cock bulging through your stomach. The bulge on your stomach appearing and disappearing inside you caught his attention, causing him to groan. He fisted your hair tightly in his hand, pulling you up. “Look at that, princess, look at it — look at how I keep disappearing inside you. Fucking perfect for me, aren’t you?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, continuing to slam his hips into yours. He let go of your hair, pressing down on the bulge in your stomach instead. The added pressure caused him to groan, his pace increasing. Your slick made it easy for him to pound into you, your cries having started to turn into loud moans. He found it almost cute, your switch up.

He pushed your thighs up higher against your chest, his hips snapping painfully into yours, balls slapping on your ass with every thrust. It felt so fucking wrong, but even you couldn’t deny how good it felt. “I’m gonna fill you up, till my cum is dripping past your legs — gonna make you walk around like that. You would love that, wouldn’t you? Walking around with my cum dripping down your legs like a fucking slut?”

If the way you clenched around him at his words wasn’t a dead giveaway to whether you liked what he was doing or not, then he didn’t know what else could possibly be it. He increased his pace. “Yea? You like that? You want that? You’re my precious little cumslut, aren’t you? My sweet little doll, so eager to be filled up to the brim.”

He brought a hand down to your clit, rubbing it harshly. The added pleasure sent shockwaves to your brain, your back arching, eyes rolling back. You could feel the coil in your stomach continue to tighten, the harsh pace of his assault on your clit only making the coil tighter and tighter.

He suddenly pinched your clit harshly, the sudden sensation causing you to let out a choked gasp. The coil in your stomach finally snapped, causing you to gush around him. He groaned at the feeling, your walls clamping around him, triggering his own release. He buried himself deep inside you, spurts of cum sprouting from him, slowly filling her up to the brim. He gripped your hips tightly. “Take it, take all of it, fucking take it — you’re mine to fuck, mine to breed, no matter when I see fit. So fucking take it–”

He kept on and on cumming, your walls clamping around him, milking him dry. He hissed, pulling out his softening length. It was so hot, the way his cum dripped out of your hole. It was the perfect time to eat you out, but that had to wait.

He grabbed your hands, finally undoing the belt on them. As soon as you were free from the restraints, you tried to flex your wrists, to fix the blood flow. He smirked at your antics. He grabbed your chin tightly, making you face him. “Listen up sweetheart — from now onwards, you do what I say. If I tell you to stay, you will stay. If I tell you to sit and look pretty, you will sit and look pretty. Got it?”

You gulped thickly. You were absolutely terrified of him. Why shouldn’t you be? Given what he had done to you, you would have no other choice but to obey him.

So you nodded. Albeit hesitantly.

He wrapped his arms around you, pressing another hungry kiss to your lips. He whispered against them. “Good girl — my good girl”

[mggslover]

Through thin walls

In which Spencer finds solace in the sounds of his new neighbor.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: perv!spence, mutual masturbation Word count: 1,7k A/n: i wanted to write a smut with a more sensual, almost poetic approach?? let me know what you think of it bc i truly don’t know how to feel about it… also tell me if you'd be interested in a part two where they would meet!

Spencer wasn’t one to find much solace in sleep.

There was a time where it offered him comfort. A refuge where he could momentarily let go of his worries. But that was before his dreams started to haunt him. He was often praised for his eidetic memory, but what people failed to consider was that it also meant remembering your worst memories in precise, vivid detail. 

Of course Spencer was aware of how crucial sleep was, how sleep deprivation could wear a person down to the point of breaking them. But when sleep was the very thing that tore at him, what good was it? He did try to rest—clinging to the rare moments on the jet, where the hum of the engines and the presence of the team offered a shield against the nightmares that awaited him. But in the stillness of his own bed, the darkness pressed in, suffocating him until sleep became a burden he couldn’t bear.

When Spencer prepared for another attempt at sleep, he braced himself for the familiar routine: tossing and turning in tangled sheets, silently reciting The Parliament of Fowls in a desperate effort to reclaim the peace it once gave him—back when his mother would read it to him as a child. He’d pace to the kitchen for a warm glass of milk, anything to calm his restless mind, only for the alarm to blare the moment his head hit the pillow.

What he didn’t expect, though, was to hear a sound from the other side of the wall.

Soft at first, like it was testing the air—a breath, a hum, something faint but undeniably there. Spencer sat up against the headboard, his face turned toward the shared wall. The walls in his apartment were thin, but he hadn’t heard anything from next door in ages, not since his neighbor had moved out.

He waited patiently, listening, and then—there it was again. A faint gasp followed by a low moan. Spencer’s breath hitched as he made out that the sound came from a woman. He tensed, his mind immediately jumping to conclusions. Was she hurt? His pulse quickened at the thought. Then a deeper moan sounded, accompanied by a soft, shaky exhale. 

He pressed his ear closer to the wall, straining to make out the sounds. A faint shuffle of movement reached him next, then the sound of a distant buzzing. Was someone else with her? His thoughts raced as he waited, not sure whether to jump to action. 

The sounds didn’t stop. In fact, they seemed to intensify, morphing into a rhythmic string of moans, sounding almost…sensual. 

Spencer sat frozen as the realization hit him. His stomach fluttered, a flush creeping up his neck and across his face as he struggled to grasp what was happening. He should turn away, should stop listening, but the sounds—her sounds—kept pulling him in. Her soft whimpers seemed to draw out something deep inside of him, an unfamiliar curiosity. 

Another moan sounded, higher pitched, followed by a low, drawn-out whine that made Spencer flinch. His eyes squeezed shut in an attempt to stop the flood of thoughts from rushing in, but it felt like his body was magnetized to the sound. There was nothing but that—the rasp of her breath, the unmistakable signs of pleasure seeping through the thin wall.

The sound of buzzing grew louder, and when a curse left the lips of the women next door, Spencer couldn’t help but let a deep groan escape from his throat. He quickly bit down on his lower lip, heart pounding in his chest. The sounds from the other side of the wall abruptly stopped, and for a moment, the silence was deafening. He held his breath, muscles tensed, every nerve on edge, waiting for what might come next. It felt like an eternity before the buzzing started again—this time softer, but still unmistakable. Spencer let out a long, shaky exhale, the weight in his chest lifting slightly.

Spencer was a firm believer of the mind having control over the body. He’s seen enough cases where people’s minds compelled them to commit horrific acts they wouldn’t have otherwise. In Spencer’s case he’d learned to ignore the nudges of his body, quickly pushing his desires aside as a mere biological function he shouldn’t linger on for too long. Maybe it was his lack of sleep, or the desperation for a change of routine—because this time around his body was getting the best of him. 

The tightness in his pants grew simultaneously with the pretty sounds next door. His hand clenched around the fabric of his sheets, but it didn’t stop the tension building inside of him. 

He tried to shift his focus back to something logical. Distracting himself by thinking back on his chemistry thesis on Dipole-Dipole forces, how simple the alignment of the polar molecules sounded, but how complex it actually is—how the bond isn’t as intense as with ions, but something that builds steadily over time, almost imperceptibly at first, until it becomes undeniable. 

As his mind went on thinking about the invisible, magnetic pull between the opposing charges, he couldn’t help but notice the similarities with the situation he was in. She, like a molecule with her own electric field, creating a captivating attraction, slowly drawing him in with every sweet sound that escaped her lips. He could only wonder what would happen the moment they would meet—if their charged particles aligned—how it could release something greater than either of them could anticipate.

He imagined the woman next door. He pictured her as a shadow first—a soft silhouette just beyond his reach, blurred by the apartment wall. But in his thoughts, the edges of her figure sharpened.

He wondered if she was touching herself, if her hands were trailing along her body in the same way he traced her in his mind. He wondered what her skin would feel like under his fingertips. Would it be soft, the kind that invited touch? Or would the gentle curve of her shoulders be warmer, more textured and defined? 

His hand moved without permission, fingers tracing his own jaw, his eyes fluttering close. His fingers brushed against his neck, leaving a trace of goosebumps in its wake. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to touch her there, to feel the pulse beneath her skin. 

Another moan slipped through the wall, soft and pleading. Would she react the same way if I touched her? The thought sent a jolt of heat through him. Spencer’s hand twitched as he unbuttoned the buttons of his shirt, his hand gliding over his bare chest. 

Each breath, each noise from her, felt like a thread pulling him closer to the edge, closer to her. His body moved on his own accord. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of his pants, and he’s hit with the sensation of warmth and need. 

He wondered if she knew how beautiful she sounded. If she was even aware of how loud she was. Or maybe she simply didn’t care. Maybe she liked how much she affected him with her whimpers and gasps. 

He imagined the way her body would move, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the delicate arch of her back as she gave herself over to the sensation. He could almost feel it—like a phantom touch—her skin against his, the way she would shudder beneath him, lost in the same heat he was drowning in now.

His hand drifted lower, unable to stop. He pictured pressing her body into the sheets, hearing her moan against his ear as he would lean in and hide his face into the crook of her neck. He wondered whether she would surrender herself to the pleasure or try gaining more by wrapping her legs around him, pulling him closer. Whether she would like him to take it slow, savoring every touch, or if she would want him to be rough, to make her feel an ecstasy she hasn’t experienced before. 

Another sharp gasp came from the other side of the wall. Spencer stifled a groan as his hand moved more urgently, guided by his growing pleasure. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t focus. Fully consumed by the thought of her—so close, yet still so out of reach. 

Spencer wasn’t sure where his sounds began and where hers ended. He was swallowed by the overwhelming sensation, his mind too hazy to make out the border between reality and his imagination. His grip on himself tightened, spurred on by her sounds that seemed to match his own rhythm. 

She had slipped so deeply into his mind that he could feel her, in every breath, in every shiver of his skin. Spencer felt it in his chest, the way his breath quickened, the way the pressure built. She had become more than just the sounds next door, more than a figment of his imagination. She had become a need. And in this moment, he had no choice but to follow where it led.

Her moans became more frequent. Spencer’s body responded instantly. His hand moved faster, drawn by the pulse of her release, feeling the way it thrummed through him as though they were one. 

He could almost see her—her legs writhing, her eyes closed, her lips parted in that delicate, breathless moan. His mind painted the picture so clearly, it felt as though she were right in front of him. 

Her release ignited his, a wave of heat rolled through him, pulling him under. His breath caught, his body shaking as he followed her, their climaxes crashing together—separate, yet so intimately tied.

Spencer lay still. His once frantic heartbeat slowed down. Still, his mind buzzed with the aftershocks of what had just happened. He could still hear her lingering moans in his mind, like a melody he couldn’t shake.

The air in the room felt lighter, less suffocating, the weight of longing finally lifted from his chest.  The exhaustion that pressed down on him was different from the nights before. It wasn’t the weariness of a restless mind, of memories from the past gnawing at him. It was the deep, almost tender exhaustion that followed from his release. 

Tonight, there were no nightmares waiting at the edge of his consciousness. Just quiet. Just calm. Just her.

PART TWO

[argentarrogance]

Singing in the shower was totally normal between bros. "You are, my fire~" Morph even turns their face into one of the members of that boy band for emphasis.

@nerdynanny

Aside from fluxing chlorine cyclin in mist of minute, and application of eucalyptic shaving foam something superimposed the sounds of the sprinkling shower. Pietro recognized the voice of theatrics immediately.

How terrible, freakish, absolutely bombastically-fantastic. He, Morph, the irreverent ( shower-buddy ), acclaimed for its extensive variations of derm cannot be left without cavalier companionship. One didn't even have to see Morph's shift of visage for quick-tempered to burst audacious cackle into the air. One more voice joins the steamy stage echoing from another, making the comedy duo fox-trot in range of tonality, '' -— The one desire. Believe when I say, I want it that way. ~~ '' ♪ Their rich singing now acoustically bouncing in double across condensation of the place.

Past participle of stave, sequence of lift and set, sculpted posture active in kinetic move with steps so cat-like, they float, gliding even over dislodged tiles as if he owns each one of them. He loves it, in dance and foolery the Mercury lives. The inhabitants of X-mansion must have thought what is it with Tuesday and Backstreet boys ...

[tsukisrants]

Prod. By Bangchan

pairing: bangchan x afab! reader

genre: smut, fluff

word count: 12.2k

warnings: dom/sub undertones, rough sex, oral sex, fingering, name calling, humiliation, degradation, praise, spit, breeding kink, overstimulation, choking, breath play, squirting, daddy kink (cmon, it’s a bangchan fic), aftercare, jealousy, feelings, lots of feelings, ecc…

summary: he’s busy, and you miss him. so much. too much. he misses you too, and wants to show you just how much. you let him, cause- cause there’s nothing you wouldn’t let him do to you. you’re his, after all.

snippet: your lips meet, and it’s pretty messy: teeth and tongues clashing against one another, moans morphing into one sound as you both abandon yourselves to each other. “I love you.” You don’t known whose voice it was. Yours. His. Both. Neither: who cares.

It’s right, no matter who said it.

You're starting to feel a dull ache in your back after hours hunched over your iPad, studying and taking notes. It’s clear that it’s time to stretch your legs a bit. You push the chair back and lift yourself slowly, each joint protesting more than you expected. A soft groan escapes your lips—a blend of discomfort and relief. You roll your neck from side to side, trying to ease the pressure that has settled there like a heavy weight.

Glancing out the window, you notice the sky has turned dark. Night has descended, fierce and enveloping, pierced only by the gentle glow of the moon casting a silvery light across the room, a soft yet almost aggressive presence. Curious about the time, you lean toward your phone, tapping its dark screen and realizing it's already past eight. He should have returned by now, but you’re not surprised he hasn’t crossed the threshold of your room yet.

“What am I going to do with you?” you mutter to yourself as you step away from the desk and move toward the mirror to your right.

The reflection that greets you reveals a woman who looks somewhat tired and worn, yet you’re relieved to see you don’t appear as disheveled as you feared. Your hair still holds its cleanliness, cascading softly over your shoulders and down your back. The bangs and layered strands frame your face, adding a hint of youthful charm despite the fatigue etched in your features.

You quickly adjust your appearance, slipping on a soft hoodie—one of his, infused with his intoxicating scent. You bury your nose in the fabric, inhaling deeply as if drawing him closer. It feels comforting, a reminder of his presence even in his absence. The shorts you’ve chosen cling gently to your body, flattering your curves, while the socks pulled high on your ankles give you an unexpected sense of height. You slide your feet into your well-worn Air Forces, grounding yourself in familiarity.

As you tuck your hands into your pockets, you catch a fleeting glimpse of the stillness around you. The room feels heavy with unspoken words and unfinished thoughts. You hesitate for a moment, wondering if you should wait for him or venture out into the cool night.

With a decisive breath, you turn away from the mirror, the weight of anticipation stirring within you. Tonight feels different, charged with a sense of possibility. You open the door and step into the hallway.

Wandering through the long, echoing corridors of the dormitory, a sudden craving strikes you. You pull out your phone and decide to place an order: two pizzas, a Coke Zero, and a slice of chocolate cake. It’s the same familiar order that the app has memorized so well it requires no further input from you. With a few taps, you select “repeat order” and send it off, sliding your phone back into the soft pocket of your hoodie.

As you walk, the vibrant sounds of voices and laughter spill from the rooms around you, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Each giggle and cheer feels like a gentle caress, filling the air with a sense of community that comforts you deeply. You can’t help but smile, relishing this little slice of life that you wouldn’t trade for anything in the world.

The world outside may be chaotic, but here, among these walls, you find a sanctuary of laughter, connection, love, and family.

To reach your destination, you step out of the dormitory and walk a few meters toward the entrance of the building across the way. The cold night breeze grazes the exposed skin of your legs, sending tiny, prickling shivers racing up your spine. You quicken your pace, eager to escape the chill. The entrance looms closer, and as you punch in the code to get inside, a deep sigh of relief escapes your lips. The moment you step through the door, you’re enveloped by warmth that feels almost like a hug, a stark contrast to the crisp night air outside.

A familiar face greets you just inside, and a smile spreads across both your faces. It’s Jaewon, one of the staff members from the recording studio. He leans casually against the wall, radiating an easy confidence that instantly puts you at ease.

“Make sure to bring him back home,” he says with a playful glint in his eye.

“Oh, a simple task,” you reply, shaking your head with mock seriousness as you pull down the hood of your hoodie, letting him see your full expression. “I’ll do my best.” His laughter is infectious, filling the air with a bright note.

“If anyone can do it, it’s you!” he exclaims as you start to move away, your laughter echoing through the empty entrance hall.

You pause for a moment, taking in the space around you. The studio has an almost sacred quality, the walls adorned with soundproofing panels and framed photos of artists who’ve passed through. Each image tells a story, and you can almost hear the echoes of creativity that resonate within these walls.

“Are you staying late tonight?” you ask, genuinely curious, as he glances at the clock behind him.

“Just for a bit. We have a session scheduled,” he replies, a hint of excitement in his voice.

“Good luck with your work, then,” you say, waving him goodbye. “Ah, good luck to you, he’s in a sour mood!” he says, and you smile at him.

You had imagined it would come to this; you sensed that things weren’t going smoothly. Even when he’s late, he always makes a point to let you know, yet today the last message you received was hours ago, lingering in the silence between you like an unanswered question. You can’t help but speculate that, much like you, he’s become so absorbed in his work that he’s lost all sense of time. You picture him still hunched over his desk, surrounded by scattered sheets of music and the faint glow of his computer screen, laboring over a melody, fine-tuning the recordings from the day.

The thought brings a bittersweet smile to your lips. You know the thrill of those late-night sessions, when inspiration strikes and time slips away. Yet, a pang of worry lingers in the back of your mind. You wonder if he’s okay, if the weight of his creative ambitions is becoming too heavy.

You glance out the window, the night deepening beyond the glass, the city lights twinkling like distant stars. There’s a certain beauty in this moment, in the quiet anticipation of what he might create. Still, you can’t shake the feeling that you should reach out, to bridge the gap between you, to remind him that he’s not alone in this.

As long as you exist, he will never, ever be alone. That’s a promise you made and intend to honor, no matter the circumstances.

After a few more steps, you arrive at the large black door that separates him from you. You don’t need to knock; instead, you quickly enter the code, which just so happens to be the date of your anniversary. Yes, it’s a cliché, and yes, the guys have teased him endlessly about it—especially Seungmin—but you know they secretly find it charming and romantic, just like you do.

As you step into the studio, you blink several times to adjust to the dim light—or rather, the near absence of it. The room is illuminated only by the soft glow of computer screens, casting an eerie yet oddly comforting ambiance. You can’t help but shake your head in concern at the conditions in which you always find him working.

He’s there, seated in one of those plush gaming chairs—a thoughtful gift from Felix, meant to help him endure the long hours he spends in this space (which is practically every night).

He hasn’t noticed your presence, and you seize the moment to linger for a heartbeat longer, watching him lost in his world. Even from this distance, you can see the dark circles under his beautiful eyes, remnants of sleepless nights fueled by passion and dedication. You bite your lower lip, feeling a pang of concern as you observe the way the muscles in his arms flex and relax, navigating through sheets of music and tapping rhythmically at the keyboard. There’s something mesmerizing about this scene—the intensity on his face, the way he seems to dance with his work, each keystroke a note in an unseen symphony. It’s both inspiring and heartbreaking, knowing he often sacrifices his well-being for his art. You wish you could ease the weight pressing down on him, to remind him to take a break and breathe.

But as you stand there, a silent observer, you feel a rush of affection and longing, a desire to connect. You want to interrupt this beautiful yet solitary moment, to pull him away from the screen and into the warmth of your embrace. Gathering your courage, you take a step forward, letting the door close softly behind you. The click of the door breaks the stillness, and his head snaps up, his eyes widening as he finally notices you. A mix of surprise and warmth floods his features, and you can’t help but smile, feeling the tension dissolve between you.

“Hey,” you say softly, your voice breaking the silence that had enveloped him. “I brought dinner. Well, ordered it. It’ll be here in half an hour, maybe something more.” Just as you finish, he says, “I’m so sorry, baby,” clearly realizing it’s gotten way too late.

You shake your head almost immediately, hushing his protests and offering a soft smile instead.

“Shut up: no apologies. Just hug me, Chris,” you mutter, taking a few more steps toward him.

When you finally reach him, he turns the chair just enough to allow you to drop onto his strong legs. Instantly, his arms wrap around you, and you feel small, protected, safe—truly at home.

“You’re wearing my hoodie,” he murmurs, burying his face against the sensitive skin of your neck. He inhales deeply, drawing in the perfect blend of your scents, which now seem to intertwine like an intimate melody.

“Yes, I missed you so much,” you confess, grasping the drawstring of his hoodie and twirling it around your finger. You shift slightly on his lap, settling in more comfortably, the warmth of his strong, muscular frame enveloping you like a cocoon.

“Little one,” he whispers, his soft lips brushing against your forehead, lingering in a gentle, comforting kiss. It sends a ripple of warmth through you, grounding you in this moment.

“I missed you too, so much it hurt.”

There’s a pause as you hold each other, the world outside fading away, replaced by the soft hum of the studio and the rhythm of your hearts. You take a moment to absorb the feeling of being here with him, the weight of the day dissolving in his embrace.

“Did you eat?” he asks, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes, concern etched across his features.

“I was waiting for you,” you reply with a small smile, brushing a stray hair from your face.

“Always the caretaker,” he teases lightly, but there’s an underlying tenderness in his voice. “Let’s eat together. You deserve a break too.”

You feel Chris’s body moving against yours, and you immediately understand that he intends to get up, perhaps to move both of you to the little couch in the corner of the studio, the place where you usually sprawl out when you stay with him while he works. A small, faint whimper of protest escapes your lips without you being able to stop it, and you feel him stiffen slightly as he halts his movements.

"What's wrong?" he asks, his warm voice intoxicating you and making your thoughts even more confused.

"Chan..." you whisper, your hands resting on the solid grip of his shoulder, feeling the muscular structure and sensing the strength hidden beneath his sweatshirt.

"What is it, little one? Talk to me," he encourages, his face tilted slightly, an eyebrow raised—a curious, mischievous expression. It’s the look of someone who knows everything but decides to pretend not to know anything.

"I- I want..." You try to speak, to express what is in your mind, to make your desires more tangible and real, but his hands resting on your hips, gripping your flesh with severity, are enough to send your mind into total and incoherent turmoil.

Bangchan smiles, a mix of sweetness and satisfaction adorning his face that borders on perfection.

You see him push his tongue into his cheek, in one of those expressions he often reserves for the most intense moments of his performances, and just witnessing such a scene up close, no matter how many times You’ve seen it before, makes your legs tremble.

"Use your words, sweetheart. I know you can do it. What do you want? I can't give it to you unless you ask nicely like the well-mannered girl I know you are.”

You experience a shiver, your breath becoming shallow and your heart racing as anticipation and desire intensify within you. Your body feels weak and pliable beneath his touch, as if it were composed of clay. Chris patiently awaits your response, his eyes deepening in intensity with each passing moment, rendering his gaze increasingly difficult to endure.

You find yourself no longer surprised by this. Instead, you accept the situation, surrendering to him and allowing him to take control of your body. You take pleasure in the sense of liberation that arises from the unwavering certainty that he will care for you at all costs, and that he possesses the knowledge to do so in the most effective manner.

“Please, C-Chris. Jaewon mentioned that you’re feeling nervous, and I really want to help you feel better,” you confess, the words slipping from your lips as if they had a mind of their own.

There’s a softness in your tone, an earnestness that surprises even you. The dim light of the room casts gentle shadows, and for a moment, the weight of your own vulnerability hangs in the air.

You try to move closer to him, the distance between you two charged with an unspoken understanding. “I know how overwhelming things can get,” you add, your heart racing slightly as you gauge his reaction, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’ll let you in.

His reaction ends up surprising you, as you notice his jaw locking and his eyes get even darker.

His eyes are now crossed by something indecipherable to you, a tempest of emotions swirling just beneath the surface. You can’t help but wonder what could have provoked such a reaction, what shadows lurk in the depths of his gaze.

His hands grip your waist tightly, almost painfully, and a pained sigh escapes his lips, filling the room with an electric tension. Chris seems to be engaged in a fierce battle within himself, each breath heavier than the last.

Jaewon—he's the source of this turmoil. Chris’s jealousy is palpable, simmering like a flame ready to ignite. It doesn’t surprise you; despite the fact that sometimes you can be a little too naive, it’s clear that Jaewon has at least a flicker of affection for you. Not that it matters much to you. Your heart belongs to the man standing before you, the one now consumed by his own insecurities and rage.

As Chris’s grip tightens, you catch a glimpse of the vulnerability beneath his bravado. The way his jaw clenches and his brows furrow reveals a deeper struggle: the fear of losing something he never fully claimed.

It stirs something within you—a desire to reassure him, to bridge the chasm of jealousy that threatens to pull you both apart. “Why do you let him get to you, baby?” you whisper, hoping to break through the storm raging inside him. Chris’s eyes momentarily glimmer with a softness, a fleeting reminder of the sweetness that lies beneath his tumultuous exterior. In that instant, as he realizes how adeptly you’ve read his soul, the warmth washes over him. But you know all too well that this tenderness will soon give way to shadows, and that gentle spark serves as a poignant reminder of why you love him so fiercely.

“Why, you ask?” he scoffs, his voice laced with a mix of heat and frustration, a humorless laugh escaping his lips. “Because you’re mine, that’s why. That kid seems to forget it all too often. Where the hell is the respect, huh? You’re mine, and he knows it. Yet he keeps asking about you—about when you’ll come to the studio. He even dares to talk to you when I’m not around.”

You can see the tension coiling within him, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. The protective intensity in his gaze sends a thrill through you, even as you sense the underlying fear that accompanies his jealousy. It’s a double-edged sword: this fierce devotion is intoxicating, but it also makes you wonder about the depths of his insecurities. You want to reassure him, to bridge the gap between his fears and your unwavering loyalty, but the words feel stuck in your throat, tangled in the complexity of the moment.

And- selfishly enough, you want him to feel this: you want him to be jealous of you enough to feel the unbearable need to prove you who you belong to. You can feel his frustration pulsating in the air, a raw energy that seems to crackle between you. It’s as if he’s standing on the edge of a precipice, yearning to let go, to release the weight of his emotions without the burden of overthinking them.

You long for him to embrace that instinct, to surrender to the chaos swirling within him.

In that moment, you wish for him to truly let go—to spill every ounce of his frustration into the open, to share the shadows that haunt him. It’s not just an act of catharsis; it’s a plea for connection.

You want him to unleash everything—the anger, the disappointment, even the fear—because deep down, you know that after the storm, he’ll be the one there to pick up the pieces. You need him to take it out on you: to possess and own you, to give you his pain and rage and to make sure that you take it all.

You yearn for him to trust you enough to confide in you, to see you not just as a refuge but as a safe harbor where he can unload his burdens. You crave that intimacy, the kind that comes from vulnerability.

And you know that once he releases those pent-up feelings, he will find solace in your presence, gathering the fragments and piecing them back together, stronger than before.

“I'm yours, Chan, I'm only yours,” you whisper, your voice trembling like the rest of your body, a delicate confession that hangs in the air between you.

The admission is enough to draw a heavy sigh from Chan, his expression transforming into one of deep contentment. It’s as if your words are music to him, the sweetest melody that resonates in his heart. The warmth in his eyes reflects a profound satisfaction, as if he’s just heard the final notes of a symphony composed solely for him. He leans in closer, the space between you shrinking until you can feel the warmth radiating from his skin. “You have no idea what that means to me,” he murmurs, his voice low and rich, laced with emotion.

The sincerity in his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, igniting a warmth that spreads through your entire being. In this moment, wrapped in his arms, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you and the unspoken promises lingering in the air. You can almost hear the gentle rhythm of your hearts syncing together, a quiet testament to the bond you share.

“Let me show you just how much I cherish you,” he says, his tone shifting to something more playful yet tender. The air crackles with anticipation, and you can’t help but smile, feeling the weight of his affection envelop you like a warm embrace. In this sacred space, you realize that it’s not just about belonging to each other; it’s about the beautiful journey you’re on together, filled with shared dreams and whispered secrets. You are his, and he is yours—an undeniable truth that fills your heart with an overwhelming sense of belonging.

“S-Show me, show me how you own me,” you say, daring to challenge him and daring to push his buttons just a little more, just enough for you to finally get what you want, what you need.

“Manners, pretty girl,” he reminds you, eyes gentle yet stern, authoritative enough to make your heart skip a beat as you feel warmth pooling at your belly, spreading down your body and making you wiggle around on his lap, your body flushed against his as you start to feel him harden under you. “Say please?” he adds, and that’s enough for you to lose every ounce of self control you had left.

“Please, please, Chan, please…” you beg, hands moving to grip at the soft texture of his hoodie, in a desperate attempt to grounded yourself, you hips starting to move without you being able to control them as you look for any kind of friction, your legs trembling and wetness spreading over the pretty panties you’re wearing.

“Please, what?” He growls, and one of his hands finds its rightful place against the sensitive skin of your neck.

He grips at it like it’s what he’s supposed to do. And he is.

He takes your oxygen away from you, your face turning the most delicious shade of pink as you try to breathe. Your mind is foggy, and his hand controls your airways as his whole presence controls your soul.

“F-fuck, Chan,” you whisper, your hands shaking as you place them over his forearms- not to pull him away, no. To keep him close, to keep him there, to tell him how much you love it when he chokes you like that without having to say it out loud.

With him, words are pretty much useless sometimes.

You guys can communicate without them, and it’s always been like that.

“Use your fucking words, or else,” he groans, his hand now closing more tightly over your neck.

“Or else what?” you say back, a smirk threatening to spread over your features as you decide to give him the brattiest version of yourself.

You don’t do it too often- not because you don’t like it, but because Chris makes it hard.

He’s sweet, yet he knows you fucking owns you. He knows exactly what to say to make you bend over, to make you cry, to make you obey. Actually, he’s usually able to turn you into a pliant little doll just by looking at you.

But tonight- tonight you need this. He needs this.

And ever so caring, you give it to him. Cause there’s fucking nothing in the world you wouldn’t give him. He knows. It’s clear that he does, because his eyes flash with- with understanding. With desire, and frustration. With possession.

“I see how it is,” he murmurs, his voice soft and sweet. Too much. Too threatening.

He leaves your neck, and air floods your lungs all at once as you gasp and breathe heavily. His hand trails the soft, reddened skin of your neck, caressing it as he admires the handprint he left behind.

Then, Chan’s hand grabs your chin and forces your face closer to his.

“Wanna be a brat? Is that it? You’re so fucking desperate for cock that you decide to be stupid enough to challenge me?”

There it is: the side of him that you so desperately wanted to bring out.

His most stern, dangerous, controlling side.

He hates it, or at least he used to. Nowadays, things have changed, and despite the fact that you’d like for him to take some credit, deep down you know pretty well that it’s all thanks to you. Thanks to your trust and love, thanks to the fact that you’ve always showed him that even when his darkness takes the lead, he’s still full of love and care. He’s still him. He has learned - or more like, he’s still learning - to let go, and to love himself a little more.

And what of himself he still can’t love, you’ll love for him.

“Are you gonna talk or are you gonna fuck me? Because I’m pretty sure that if you old man can’t get it up someone else wi-,” your words are cut off as his hand collides with your cheek, your face turning to the side and more of his marks showing up on your skin. After reassuring him that he’s the only one for you, you know that you can more safely play with his jealousy. And he loves it, cause it gives him a free go at showing you that he’s the only one that can ever own you.

“Pain slut,” he comments, as your reaction to getting hit on the face is, as usual, a loud moan.

He cruelly laughs, watching as you blush and wiggle on his lap. But he doesn’t let you move much, and actually stills you by grabbing your waist, and he pushes his hips upwards, his bulge rubbing viciously against your core, the friction ever so sweet and torturous.

Bangchan lets out a deep groan, and it slips out before he can stop it. The sound hits you hard, sending a rush through your body that makes you want to squeeze your legs together to ease the tension building up inside you. You love him to madness when he lets himself go like this: you love to see him lose his composure, and even more, you love to hear him. Hearing his voice, the way it trembles and how it badly hides all the desire he has for you.

It's one of the most arousing things in the world.

“Wanna get fucked, baby? Huh? Want to get the pussy filled up?”

You can’t help but nod, and you know that you’re practically making a fool out of yourself: to be honest, you really couldn’t care less. Bangchan mocks you as he imitates the pathetic sound you let out and the way you didn't even think to hesitate before nodding along his words and trying to rub against his cock more insistently.

You hear him click his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the sharp sound echoing in the room in a way that almost makes you jump.

“M-mean, you’re mean,” you whisper, your hands tracing his body and resting on his big, strong arms.

His muscles tense under your touch, and you can feel the way he clenches them and flexes them for you, since he know damn well how much you love to feel them- to feel his strength and now how much power he has over you, both physically and mentally.

Bangchan's astonished laughter reverberates through the studio, a sound so jarring that it seems to vibrate through your bones. The humiliation that follows is sharp, disorienting, enough to make your head spin. And yet, in that moment, you realize you love him more than ever.

There’s something intoxicating about how he mocks you, his teasing a strange sort of intimacy. You find comfort in the knowledge that his words hold no real malice, that there's never any truth behind the jabs. You know, deep down, that he loves you—protects you—though his love comes with a sharp edge. He loves you enough to humiliate you, enough to hurt you, because that’s the way he knows how to show it. In his cruel kindness, you find something that both wounds and heals, a paradox you can never quite escape.

“Mean, huh? That’s funny, isn’t it? Since you’re such a pathetic slut for it. Since you beg me with those pretty eyes to be meaner and meaner. Since I know that that pussy is getting wetter by the second.”

It’s the truth: he knows it, and you know it. You both know it, and that truth—the weight of it—only deepens the intoxication. There’s no escaping him, not really. Not now, not ever. And the strange thing is, you don’t want to. Because in that exposure, in that raw vulnerability, there’s a strange kind of safety. You feel naked, completely laid bare, and yet, somehow, protected. You know what’s coming. He will tear you apart, rip through the layers you've so carefully built. But you also know, with an unsettling certainty, that he will always put you back together—because he always does.

And each time, as he pieces you back, it’s as if you’re being remade. There’s a tenderness in his destruction, a care in his cruelty, and with every unraveling, you find yourself a little more whole, a little more yourself. Even if it means surrendering everything, every time, to a love that demands it all.

The relentless stillness of the moment is shattered by his actions: Bangchan grips your hair, his hold firm and unyielding, forceful enough to sting. You let out a pained moan, your eyebrows knitting together in a small grimace. Heat floods your body as he moves you like a mere rag doll.

He lifts you up, pushes you away: you are no longer cradled in his arms but standing before him, who is poised to lift you right after. His eyes scan your body, looking at you as no one ever has, as if you are the only one in the entire world.

You meet his gaze. It’s just him: Bangchan, Chris. Only him, and your desperate need to have him.

“What-“ you try to stay, yet you are unable to finish your sentence as he shushes you.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls- or well, he orders you.

Your words die in your throat as he grabs your wrist into his hand, forcing you to follow him around the studio. And follow him you do, looking like a dumb, lost puppy who’s wiggling his tail at his owner.

Which isn’t that far from the reality of things, if you were to be honest with yourself. You tremble as you feel the weight of anticipation growing inside you, the excitement looming over your body and clouding your mind. You can't think of anything else but the fact that you want to have him, here and now.

“Strip,” he commands you, casually letting himself fall onto the small couch where you usually nap when you come to keep him company while he works on his songs.

The spectacle before you is unparalleled: him, in all his magnificence, exuding power and control, sitting with his legs wide apart on the couch, his gaze rigid and the front of his pants bulging, poorly concealing the excitement he is also feeling.

You already feel exposed, stripped of everything. Yet, after taking a deep breath, with trembling hands covered by a thin layer of sweat from nervousness and excitement, you carry out the order he gave you.

You undress under his attentive and eager eyes, allowing him to observe every smallest movement of yours.

His hand finds its place on his groin, and you watch him touch himself while you remove one piece of clothing after another. Your clothes fall forgotten to the ground until you are left with only your panties on, now damp and wet with your arousal. You’ll probably have to throw them away after this, but it’s a sacrifice you’re more than willing to make.

“Take those off too, show me that pretty pussy,” he says, his witty tongue escaping his even more dirty mouth to wet his plump lips.

He keeps on touching himself, rubbing vigorously against his dick. He’s still too clothed, and you find yourself whining pathetically as you slide the panties you have on off from your body.

“Not fair,” you say, and he arches his brow in response as he tilts his head to the side.

“What?” he asks, hips moving to meet his own hand, as it’s clear to you that even though he hides it better, he’s as needy as you are.

“Wanna see you- wanna see your cock,” you plea, as a little moan escapes your lips as air comes in contact with your now exposed cunt. “This cock?” he asks, basically gripping at his own hard dick right before your eyes.

A wave of longing stirs within you, as if the mere sight of the scene before you is enough to make your senses tingle with hunger. And there, at the center of it all, he sits right in front of you—an embodiment of temptation, the perfect image of sin itself. His presence is the precise manifestation of every secret desire you've ever harbored, a temptation so vivid, so impossible to resist, that it feels as though the very air around you crackles with the promise of what is going to happen.

“Yes, please, wanna see it- wanna suck it, please, daddy,” you beg, and you can’t seem to be able to stop yourself.

You can see it in his eyes: the way he revels in seeing you like this, feeling you like this—utterly, completely his, a possession he claims with every touch, every glance. There's a possessiveness to him, something primal and unrelenting, as though your very existence belongs to him. You feel his breath falter in his throat when the words leave your lips, the weight of them pulling him deeper into that ownership. You know the effect it has on him, how it makes his mind spin, how it makes him want to pull you even closer, to mark you further as his.

And in that moment, perhaps his head spins as much as yours does. You, his possession, his obsession.

“Then get on your fucking knees.”

As soon as those words leave his lips, your legs give out and you found yourself kneeling in front of him, as you fall on your knees with a soft tud. It hurts, but you don’t mind. Actually, you love the feeling of it, the burn so delicious that it almost makes your eyes roll back.

“Such a good girl for daddy,” he praises you, his eyes locked on your naked body.

Without ever taking his eyes off you, Bangchan slightly lifts his back, and you watch, mesmerized, as he grips the edges of his t-shirt before pulling it up and completely sliding it off his body. He tosses it carelessly onto one of the armrests of the sofa, and you feel your mouth water at the sight of his perfectly sculpted body: muscles defined, imposing, strong, moving in a hypnotic dance as they follow his every motion.

“You’re so hot,” you say, as he finally starts to work on his pants.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he lowers both his pants and boxers down, kicking off his shoes in the process. “Want you to fuck me so bad.”

The air is heavy around the both of you, and you can’t stop yourself from trying to make him- do something.

You look at him through your lashes, you bite your bottom lip, you spread your knees a little wider. And he knows, obviously he does. He knows how you work, and all your little tricks. It’s hard to make him fall for them nowadays.

“Fuck,” he hisses, as his cock is finally freed from his clothes. Every time you see it, it’s like the first time: it’s so big. Big and veiny, strong like the rest of him. The tip is swollen and red, leaking the tiniest drop of his pre-cum, and the sight of it makes you salivate and feel- hungry. Yeah, that’s the word.

“Suck it,” he says, hand sliding up and down the length right in front of your face, “suck my cock, baby. Daddy’s gonna make you choke on it, c’mon.”

You move so quickly you almost fall over, yet you manage to get closer to him and place your hands on his strong thighs. He chuckles at the sight of your utter desperation, but you don’t mind. Actually, the more he laughs at you, the wetter you become.

“Thank you, t-thank you,” you whisper, before placing your hands on his cock. Both of them, since it’s just so fucking big. You grip it at the base, and with eyes full of lust, you stick your tongue out before slapping his dick against your face. It’s heavy, and it kind of hurts a little bit, just how you like it. The smell of it- of him, fills your senses. It’s salty and so so him. You breathe in deeply and nuzzle your face against the skin of his thighs, hand moving over his cock.

“Someday i’ll have you cockwarm me here at the studio. Make you stay on your knees all fucking day, I swear.”

You nod almost immediately, because there’s no chance you’d ever say no to something like that. Or to anything he’d ask from you, but that’s another thing. Chris looks at you like you’re his prey, and he’s- the big bad wolf. Pun intended, of course.

“Didn’t you say you were gonna make me choke on it, daddy? Are you a liar?” you tease, and right after that you slide your tongue all over his cock, from base to tip, focusing on the little slit to taste as much of his juicy as you possibly can.

“You little bitch,” he curses, shaking his head as his hands find their rightful place into your hair, grabbing at it and pulling at it and- hurting you so sweetly. “Gonna fucking stuff you full, see if that shuts you up.”

His cock finds its place into your mouth, and he shoves your head down the length of it so forcefully that you can’t help but cough at the intrusion, your throat hurting as spams overcome it.

“That’s it,” he groans, hips pushing up to thrust inside your mouth, the tip of his cock pushing against the back of your throat as his dick slides over your tongue. “This is all you’re good for.”

You agree, because how could you not? His words burn and rub at your skin the same way his cock rubs at the softness of your tongue. You nod wordlessly over his length, and his moans make the air around of you thicker, as if you could just move your arms and touch it.

You obviously can’t, couldn’t, but the thought is enough to make your spiral: he has so much power over you it’s insane, but comforting. You don’t have to think abut anything other than keeping your mouth open and jaw slack as he forces his cock deep inside your tight little throat.

His precum is salty and spit trails from your mouth all the way down your chin, making it sloppy and messy and wet, just how you both like it.

“Such a tight mouth, a warm little hole,” he groans as his hips buck up against your face, the muscles of his strong thighs tensing as his body is shaking with the pleasure you’re giving him. Tears spill from your eyes as he holds your head down, forcing his dick all the way down your throat, the muscles of it spasming without control as you fight the need to breathe.

“Choke. Shut the fuck up and choke for me, good fucking girl.”

You do live for his praise, for the feeling you get when you’re so lucky to obtain his approval.

You’d do anything to get that feeling, even though he basically praises you just for the fact that you exist. Still, you love that sometimes he makes you work for it, because it makes it way more intense at the end of the day. It’s- it’s like drowning. You’re gasping for air, and you fight with all your strength to keep on being alive. When you’re free to breathe, it changes the perspective of being alive: you understand it’s worth. Life’s worth.

Same thing goes with what he has to give you. You want it, you need it. And after waiting and begging for it… it’s just overwhelming. It gives your entire life a purpose.

“Please,” you mouth at the tip of his cock, tongue playing with the red, wet slit to try and gather as much as possible of his thick salty juice. “Wanna get fucked, please, please, fuck me,” you beg, because it’s what you’re supposed to do. It’s what you both crave.

Chan snickers, he rubs his cock over your swollen lips, over and over again, staining them with a glossy, creamy finish.

“What if I didn’t? What if I just fucked this hole and got off like this?”

You almost cry, yet you don’t try to object. You nod, and he chuckles at the sight.

“W-whatever daddy wants, whatever you want, please.”

And it’s the right answer.

Exactly what Bangchan wanted to hear, and it's as if in your head you can hear a small chime ringing, signaling that you've chosen the best option, and that you can move forward, go ahead, continue. He runs a hand through his hair: a thin layer of sweat makes his forehead shine and glisten, and his cheeks are tinged with the juiciest shade of red.

The tension in his muscles betrays him—the rigid set of his jaw, the way his eyes burn into yours, frantic, pleading, but he won’t say it. He doesn’t need to.

You feel it, all of it—the weight of his desperation pressing in, thick and suffocating. You feel powerful because if he looks like this now, it’s only and solely thanks to you. It's your merit.

He’s- he’s in charge, but you still have so much power. Over him. Over his entire being.

He’s yours just as much as you’re his.

You’re all naked and vulnerable, kneeling at the feet of your boyfriend. Your body is screaming at you, yelling with the need to be relieved, but you can’t do anything other than ignore it, cause that’s not up to you: your own satisfaction isn’t in your hands, but in his.

“Finally learnt your place, haven’t you? Or maybe it’s just that you’re so fucking needy that your dumb brain can’t even handle fighting me off anymore, huh?” he pets your cheek, thumb rubbing at the flushed skin with a faux tenderness, “whatever. Get up. Sit on the couch and spread your pretty legs. Gonna fill that pussy up, I need to fuck you.”

You move with such urgency, such speed, that it almost feels like you’re losing touch with your own body, as if the world around you is slipping into a blur while you stay anchored in this moment, in this need. Your knees burn, the sensation sharp and raw. Sweet, too. The roughness of the carpet scrapes against your skin, the friction almost making you lose feeling, but you don’t stop, not even for a second. You wouldn’t be able to even if you wanted. And you don’t.

You really, really don’t.

In fact, you barely notice the pain. The ache in your legs is something distant, unimportant in comparison to the heat building inside you. Your body knows its purpose here, and that’s all that matters.

Bangchan’s eyes are locked on you, unblinking, intense, yet there's something almost amused in his gaze, something quiet, like he's watching a game unfold before him. Like you’re his little toy to play with.

You are. He doesn't need to say a word; his stare is enough. Every movement of yours is like a story quickly unfolding, and he is savoring every page like a starved man. And that’s all you need. His attention, his focus, it fills you in ways nothing else can. It’s enough. Yet you need more. And more. And more. With your legs still tingling, an electric buzz coursing through them, you turn and let yourself fall onto the couch just like he told you to: legs spread wide open and body exposed for him: the soft cushion swallowing you momentarily, offering a fleeting relief.

As you collapse, he rises to his feet in a single, smooth motion. There’s no hesitation.

“Look at you. I haven’t touched you yet and that pussy is dripping with it. Fuck, baby, spread it open for me, will you?” he orders, and his words are so filthy that they make your head spin with how intensely they crush on you.

“Spread those folds, little one. Show me that tiny hole.”

When your fingers reach your own pussy, the moan you let out is basically pornographic.

His, too. It mirrors yours: it’s lower and more dominating, yet sweet.

Sometimes you feel like you could touch his voice if you really wanted to. Which is a crazy thought, but it makes sense for you. Cause everything about him defies the laws of this universe: it goes way beyond.

“F-fuck, look at you,” he groans, as you play with yourself under his hungry gaze. You know your body well, so it takes just a few flicks of your wrists to make your own legs tremble for him. He’s jacking off, and you whine and whine, so desperate to have him inside of you.

“Gimme, gimme…” you beg, tears starting to pool at your eyes. “Begging me so fucking nicely.”

He gets closer.

He grabs your legs, and then bends over. It happens pretty quickly: Chan finds his rightful place between your legs and forces them even more open than they were.

His hard dick rubs against your wet, needy folds, coating his length with your unstopping juices. You both moan, especially considering how long it has been since he’s been inside of you. Which is- well, four days, but for the two of you is kind of a record, to be honest. You just can’t keep your hands off of each other.

And looking at him, at the way sweat dribbles down his forehead, at the way his eyes shine with the light of a thousand stars… who could really blame you? You guys were fucking made for each other. You were made for him. And he? He was fucking made for you. Only you.

“Want your cock so bad.”

Bangchan laughs, before bending over to mouth at the soft skin of your breasts. His tongue slides over the sensitive skin of one of your nipples, while his fingers rub the other.

“Think you can take it? Daddy’s gonna open up that pussy first. Or do you want me to rip it, huh? Leave it gaping for me?”

As he talks, you feel his other hand trace down your whole body. Up until he reaches his goal: the growing wetness in between your legs. His fingers find their place immediately, and your eyes roll at the back of your head as his thumb moves over your swollen clit.

“C-Chan! Please!”

Harder. He rubs it harder, and while he does that his teeth nip at your hardened nipple, sending both pleasure and pain running through your defenseless body.

“It’s empty, isn’t it? I can feel it pulse under my fingers, you dirty fucking whore.”

He pushes two of his thick fingers all the way inside your wet hole. Air gets sucked out of your lungs, and you tilt your head back as your hands find their place in his scalp, grabbing his hair and pulling harshly at it.

“So tight, baby. This pussy is tight and yet it’s been fucked so many times. Made for me, weren’t you? Fucking molded over my cock.”

You nod, over and over again. You tell him that yes, he’s right, you were made for him.

“Aren’t you pathetic?” he mumbles, and that’s another thing you nod for. His fingers fill you up perfectly, even though it’s nearly not enough for you to get off the way you want. Need.

The sound is obscene: your juices slide down his fingers and almost get to his wrist, and you find yourself trying to spread your legs further to get him deeper.

“Kiss me,” you ask, tone whiny and demanding, hands tracing his scalp and neck and shoulders as he detaches himself from your now swollen tits.

Red marks cover your skin, and you can’t wait to see them turn the richest shade of purple in a few hours. He’s always had a thing for marking you up. Your lips meet, and it’s pretty messy: teeth and tongues clashing against one another, moans morphing into one sound as you both abandon yourselves to each other.

“I love you.”

You don’t known whose voice it was. Yours. His. Both. Neither: who cares.

It’s right, no matter who said it.

He rubs himself against your thigh, spreading his pleasure over your flushed skin. As you feel the weight of his dick you can’t help but keep on trembling and begging for him to finally fill you up. You glance down at where his fingers disappear inside of your body, and the sight is one to lose sleep over.

His arm is as strong as ever: veins showing up for the effort he’s putting on finger fucking you, muscles tensing and moving hypnotically, and his thick fingers getting swallowed in by your hungry cunt

“Can’t wait anymore. I need to be inside of you. Now.”

Finally.

He removes his fingers from your body harshly, leaving you gasping for air and crying out as you feel the emptiness hunt you down. He looks- looks at the way you’re gaping for him, hole abused and red and swollen begging him to get filled up. You can’t even think about feeling ashamed. There would be no point. Not right now. And most importantly, not with him.

His eyes shift. He’s no longer focused on your pussy, but he’s rather looking at your face. Make up running over it, making it messy just how he likes it. Chan brings his fingers to his mouth. They’re still coated with your juices, and you look carefully as he wraps those sinful lips of his around his wet digits. His eyelashes flutter and his throat lets out a trembling groan.

“So sweet. Sweet little pussy,” he moans around his own fingers, before switching it up and forcing them inside your mouth, making you taste what was left of your own pleasure and the thickness of is saliva.

You suck, immediately. You rub your tongue over the sensitive skin of his digit just as he takes ahold of his dick.

The tip of it, all red and swollen, gets rubbed against your equally abused cunt.

“Fuck me with it, daddy. C’mon. I need it so bad, please, please…”

It always works. Chan is a sucker for your begging. Always has been.

His hips move sinfully as he pushes his dick all the way inside your pussy in one precise motion. You almost scream, head tilting to the side and tongue lolling out of your mouth.

He keeps on rubbing his fingers over your tongue, over your lips: he does it carelessly, and you live for the feeling of getting treated like a fucking sex toy. His groans are to die for: low and sweet, caring and uncaring.

You love listening to him when he lets himself go, when he sheds all restraint and takes what he desires without hesitation or apology. There’s a kind of raw beauty in his selfishness, in the way he reaches out for everything he wants, heedless of the wreckage he might leave behind.

It’s rare, to get him like this. He thinks too much all the fucking time- but now? Now he’s free. He doesn’t care about what he’s breaking or losing, not in these moments. All that matters is the taking, the consuming, the claiming of whatever satisfies his boiling hunger.

And yet, you can’t stop giving. To him, you offer yourself again and again, without question, without limit.

He takes from you with an intensity that leaves you breathless, with a greed that seems insatiable. Every part of you—your time, your energy, your love—he consumes without hesitation. Even the things you didn’t think you could give, those pieces you didn’t even know existed, the pieces of yourself you thought were untouchable, he somehow reaches. He doesn’t just take what you offer willingly; he finds ways to take more, to claim even the things you didn’t know were his for the taking. And still, you let him. Because there’s something in the way he demands, the way he consumes, that makes you feel both hollowed out and completely alive.

Empty, but with a purpose. Filled up. A metaphor, yes. Also something tangible.

“You’re mine. This, this,” he groans, hands coming down to slap your thighs and breast and forcefully grab them into his strong hands, “this is all fucking mine.”

“M’yours, fuck, right there, harder,” you moan, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. It’s never fucking enough. No matter what, you always crave more of Bangchan. Of the light of your life.

You’re insatiable. Both of you.

“Harder, baby? Look at me, look at me in the eyes when you ask for something, you fucking brat.”

He grabs your chin, forces your eyes to meet. Your mouth is wide open, moans escaping your lips incessantly, voice getting higher by the second.

You have a fight with yourself as you try to do as he says and keep your eyes open. You wanna be obedient.

You feel it deep in your core, an overwhelming certainty that if you cannot give him exactly what he wants, you’ll cease to exist. It’s absurd, you know this—impossible even. You won’t die if you fail to please him, and yet the thought claws at your mind, making every breath feel shallow and incomplete without his approval. Somehow, it feels real, undeniable, like a truth written into the fabric of your very being. And worse, it feels right.

The idea of losing yourself entirely for him, of offering up your life if that’s what it would take, doesn’t just seem acceptable—it feels like destiny.

So… your next words don’t surprise you. And- well, they don’t surprise him neither. He knows you too fucking well.

“Choke me.”

His hand is on your neck almost immediately.

You feel it as if it were your own—a brief, stuttering halt in the rhythm of his heart, a mirrored echo of the one that shakes through your chest. You watch as his eyes deepen, the light fading into the richest, most intense shade of darkness you’ve ever seen. It’s a darkness that beckons, that promises to consume you whole, and you can’t look away.

Then his hand moves, tightening around your neck with a deliberate, unyielding strength. The world narrows to the press of his fingers, to the way your breath falters and slips away. It’s no longer yours—your breath, your control, your very will have all become his, claimed in an instant. And you let him take it all, offering no resistance. Even if the fatigue is screaming at you, telling you to let go and close your eyes- you don’t. You can’t, couldn’t. Ever.

The burn in your lungs spreads, delicious and sharp, a physical reminder of your surrender. Your chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven gasps, each one precious and entirely at his mercy. The edges of your vision blur, softening into a haze, but you don’t care. In fact, you find yourself welcoming it. It’s intoxicating, this loss of control.

“S-so big. Feel so big inside my pussy…” you cry out. By now, tears stream freely from your weary eyes, and Bangchan can’t resist. He leans down toward you, his tongue darting quickly across your burning skin.

He licks away your tears with a mix of hunger and intent, savoring each drop as if they belong to him, as if they’re his to take. Slowly, he consumes you—not just your tears, but every fiber of your being, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left untouched by him. The saltiness of your tears coats his tongue, and you can see how it makes his eyes flutter and thrust get more erratic.

His pace is punishing, on the verge of being painful.

The sweetest paradox.

Bangchan fucks you over and over again. Pushes his aching cock deep inside your desperate cunt, making it pulse over his length as you try to get him to bury himself deeper with each thrust.

“Look at you. You can’t even breathe, huh? All you can do is get fucked, am I right?”

You want to respond—desperately, with everything inside you. But you can’t. The words stay trapped deep in your chest, locked behind the absence of breath. There’s no air left to give them life, no way to shape them into sound. And yet, you refuse to disappoint him. You won’t. You can’t. Your body reacts instinctively, head dipping in a shaky nod as your vision wavers at the edges. Even without words, you find a way to obey, because you always will. No matter how much it costs you, no matter how far you’re pushed, obedience is instinctive when it comes to him. It’s like second nature to you.

He notices, of course. He always notices. A glint of satisfaction flickers in his eyes, subtle but unmistakable, like a reward in itself. But it isn’t enough—not for him, not for this moment. He leans in closer, the intensity in his expression sharpening like a blade. Then, slowly, deliberately, he lifts his other hand, placing it around your neck to join the first. Now, both hands hold you, his fingers pressing into your skin with an unrelenting firmness. The weight of his touch is calculated, deliberate, and impossibly precise. The pressure is just enough to make you burn, to send a sharp jolt of pain coursing through you, but not so much that it overwhelms. He knows your limits—intimately, perfectly—and he dances along that edge with a mastery that leaves you reeling.

He knows you better than you’ll ever know yourself.

Even now, in this moment of utter control, his care for you is evident. The way his hands move, the way he keeps you balanced between agony and safety, speaks volumes. He’s pushing you, yes, testing how far you’re willing to go for him, but never recklessly. Never without thought. Protecting you, even as he consumes you, is always at the forefront of his mind. You’re his, completely and utterly, and he would never risk breaking what belongs to him.

He guides you—a watchful, loving presence, both stern and compassionate. He leads you to the edge, to the point of no return, bringing you so close to losing consciousness, to surrendering completely to the void—to him, to his desires.

Just as you’re about to be swallowed by the emptiness, just as you’re on the verge of spiraling uncontrollably into the abyss of pleasure, his hands leave your neck.

The release is sudden, and air floods your lungs with such force that the world around you spins, tilting wildly as you gasp for breath. The rush is dizzying, overwhelming, and the sheer intensity of it makes everything else disappear, leaving only the two of you in the storm of sensation. You don’t even recognize it at first- the orgasm way too intense to be given a name. Your pussy aches and pulses and gushes out streams of your pleasure over and over again, tightening around his cock, making it harder for him to move freely.

Your body is overtaken by uncontrollable tremors, and a thin layer of sweat coats your skin, marked by bites—by the imprints of his touch. You don’t even know if you said anything, really. You can only feel and hear the way your blood runs through your blood, ears pulsing with the intensity of the sensations you just experienced.

“Good girl,” he praises, watching you as you struggle to breathe normally again. And even then, he doesn’t stop fucking you. Everything is more intense now- it’s enhanced by the way your orgasm hasn’t actually ceased. It’s ongoing, ravenous.

“Came over my fucking cock, wasn’t even touching your dumb little clit, fuck! Y-you fucking squirted for me, baby. Such a good little hole, I’m so proud of you.”

It’s practically enough to send you over the edge again: one orgasm morphing into another as you rub at your abused clit. Bangchan lets you, cause you’ve more than earned it. Even if usually- your pleasure is his. This time, though, he lets you have it. And you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“W-want you to come, too. Please, C-Channie, inside of me, please? Want all of your cum inside my pussy, want you to breed me, please…”

He loves it. He lives for it, and yet often enough he doesn’t allow himself to indulge into it.

You’ll have none of it though, especially today. Today- it’s for him. Only him.

“Babygirl- you’re fucking playing with fire now.”

It’s a warning—a subtle, almost imperceptible sign that you’ve grown all too familiar with, one that you’ve learned to disregard without a second thought. There was a time when it might have made you hesitate, made you question, but no longer. The only thing that matters is the way his eyes flicker—just for a moment—before they roll back, losing themselves in the feeling of your pussy gripping his cock like a vice.

The sight of him, consumed, his control slipping away, it makes your pulse quicken. That’s what counts. Nothing else.

Now, it’s his turn.

You watch as his body trembles with the effort, each breath coming harder than the last. His skin is alive with a tremor of its own, covered in shivers that tell you just how much he’s enjoying this. It’s rough beneath your touch, heated, and flushed from the monumental physical effort he’s putting in. Sweat clings to his hair, dripping and curling the way you find so irresistible, a stark contrast to the taut lines of muscle across his chest, now straining with each movement. His arms are firm, powerful, holding you in place with a force that leaves no room for escape. You’re helpless, defenseless.

But it’s his hands that draw your attention—his fingers digging into your thighs with a strength that borders on brutal, marking you as his, pulling you closer, tighter, until there’s no space left between you. You can’t go anywhere. You can feel every inch of his tension, every subtle flex of his muscles as they ripple beneath your touch, the weight of his need pressing against you with a force you can’t ignore.

“Gimme your cum, daddy. Make me swollen with it, please. I need it, need it.”

It’s a good feeling.

He spits, and it lands on your face. It’s messy, a little bit of it goes inside your eye- it makes it harder to blink. But you don’t care, cause it’s fucking worth it. He humiliates you, makes you feel small and useless. He uses his hand to rub his spit on your skin, marking you as his property.

“Gonna fucking breed you, baby. Gonna cum so deep inside of you you’re gonna stain your panties for days- fuck. Gonna make you walk out of here with my cum dripping out of you- and I hope he sees it. Hope that fucker sees that you’re my slut- my fucking cum dump.”

Jaewon. Fuck, you’ll bake the dude a batch of cookies for having made Chan lose his temper like this. It’s the best feeling ever.

“Yes! Yes! Please, please, I’m your cum dump, j-just a toy, daddy, please!”

He leans forward.

Bangchan’s forehead rests against yours, and your gazes lock, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle that were always meant to find each other. The connection is undeniable, unshakable, as if something far greater than either of you is pulling you together. The sensation is intense, almost primal in its depth. It roots itself in the very core of your being, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed. You know, instinctively, that no words could ever do it justice. No description, no matter how vivid, could capture the raw, visceral power of this moment.

So you let go.

You surrender to the feeling, trembling as it washes over you, and you give yourself to him completely—mind, body, and soul. The tip of his cock rubs at the perfect place- it makes you see stars. You feel it all the way to your stomach, which is probably bulging with the intensity of his thrusts.

Your folds are aching, your clit keeps on pulsing and you know damn well that you’re gonna cum again- as soon as he does. Because for you nothing is more important and valuable than his pleasure. Enough to make you cum all over again, no matter what.

“Mine. Mine, my pussy, my baby, all mine,” he says. It’s- disconnected. Messy. He’s just saying things, calling you name and promising you that you’re gonna get bred. You pet his hair, you pull at it.

You stick your tongue out and look at him with hunger in your eyes as he forces his cock inside your hole a few last times.

“You look like a fucking whore,” he comments, groaning deeply before letting himself go.

He succumbs, falling into the abyss of desire alongside you. He lets himself go completely, his body seized by violent, overwhelming spasms that ripple through him with unrelenting force. And you, calm and yielding, accept it all, embracing him as he shatters in your arms.

He buries his cock all the way inside of your body, and you feel it pulse with every sprout of cum that he lets out. Over and over again. You feel it- warm and thick and dense. You cum with him, because of course you do. And you do it more for him than for yourself. You do it cause your pussy tightens up for him and makes his orgasm way more intense. He says so, too.

“Take it. Good fucking girl. All my cum baby, daddy’s cum is breeding you.”

It is, or at least you hope so.

It would be a waste otherwise. You want it to take, and you know it’s crazy, but you don’t care. You’ll give him anything, everything.

“So good, daddy. I feel so full, t-thank you.”

He kisses your forehead. Sweet, despite being still buried to the hilt inside your gaping cunt.

Despite the fact that cum is dripping from your hole and sliding down his cock- all the way to his balls. Messy. Messy. Messy.

“So polite, baby. You’re my princess, right? I love you so much.”

His words carry the taste of a smile, warm and intoxicating, and you can’t get enough of it. It’s as if each syllable wraps itself around you, pulling you closer, filling every corner of your being with an insatiable need for more. You bite your lip, the gesture both instinctive and deliberate, as your fingers trace the strong lines of his shoulders. The touch is soft, almost reverent, as though grounding yourself in the reality of him.

“I love you too,” you whisper, your voice low but unwavering. “More than anything else.”

The words fall between you like a promise, heavy with truth, with an undefined purpose, and the way he looks at you in return makes you feel as though the whole world could fall away, disappear in a fleeting instant, and you wouldn’t care. It wouldn’t matter.

“Thank you,” he adds. You know why he’s thanking you, but you shush him anyways.

“Don’t. Don’t thank me, baby. There’s no need.”

He scoffs, placing soft, gentle kisses on your cheek and down your neck.

“I know. Wanna do it anyways, so please let me, okay?” He smiles, rubbing his cheek against yours before sliding his nose over your skin, trying to touch you in any way possible.

“Okay. Just this once.”

He’s satisfied with your response, and you let him take a moment to recover—truthfully, this moment of tenderness is as much for you as it is for him.

He’s putting you back together. Piece by jagged piece, he’s gathering the fragments of you, reshaping them, giving them new form and color. His touch is gentle, reverent. He caresses you, his fingers tracing soothing patterns along your skin, and his lips find yours in soft, lingering kisses. You return the gestures, mirroring his care, your hands and lips speaking the language of gratitude and love without the need for words.

His fingers tease along your side, the touch light and playful, and you respond with a mischievous grin, sinking your teeth into his shoulder in a playful bite. It’s a small act of rebellion, an answer to his teasing, and the way he chuckles softly in response fills the air between you with warmth.

“Mean puppy,” he reprimands you, and you wiggle your eyebrows, “wasn’t I a cat?” you ask, and he shrugs his shoulders.

“A hybrid? Wasn’t that something you were reading the other day?”

You blush, but you’re kinda happy he remembers everything you tell him despite how busy his life is.

“Yeah, but I’m not one. You are. Wolf hybrid.”

He howls. Of course he does. He’s- he’s the love of your life for a fucking reason, after all.

And you wouldn’t change what you just have for a thing in the whole world.

You both get dressed slowly, taking your time, and he helps you clean up. With a soft smile, he reaches for the brush you keep here at the studio and gently untangles your messy hair. You always leave a small bag with a few of your things here—essentials for the long hours you spend keeping him company. It was his idea, of course. He bought everything you might need, insisting that you leave it here.

It’s one of the countless ways he shows you he loves you, small gestures that speak volumes.

“Damn it! The pizza!” you exclaim suddenly, just as you’re pulling on your hoodie.

Bangchan laughs, the sound light and carefree, as he checks his phone, which had been sitting on the table nearby. It’s much later than you’d realized, and you probably missed the call when your phone rang.

“It’s fine, baby,” he reassures you, slipping his jacket on with ease. “I’ll just run to the shop across the street and grab something, okay?”

You pout a little, feeling disappointed because you’d wanted everything to be perfect. But he’s quick to notice, and even quicker to fix it. He steps close, his hands warm on your face as he kisses that pout away, effortlessly melting your frustration in the way only he can.

Then, with that familiar cheeky grin, he tousles your freshly brushed hair, undoing his work on purpose. The playful act earns him a sharp glare from you, but his laughter in response is worth every second of your mock indignation.

“Be quick? Please? I’m hungry. Starving. I’ll probably die if I don’t eat, actually.”

He shakes his head, shoving his wallet inside the pocket of his pants. “You’re not gonna die, baby. I promise.”

He opens the door of the studio, ready to leave.

Fortunately, you spot the obstacle before he has the chance to trip over it.

“Channie, watch out!” you exclaim, pointing at the floor.

His expression shifts to one of confusion, his eyes widening slightly as he follows the direction of your finger. On the ground, two pizza boxes lie in an awkward heap, a small note resting on top of them. With a sigh, you drop onto the couch, crossing your legs as you settle into a comfortable position, content to watch how this unfolds.

He crouches down, gathering the boxes to his chest, his brow furrowing as he grabs the note. You study his face while he reads it carefully, his lips moving faintly as he takes in the words.

“I tried knocking, but I figured it was better to leave. Hope it doesn’t get cold. —Jaewon.”

You feel heat rush to your face, a wave of embarrassment washing over you as the situation sinks in. But he just smiles—a smug, satisfied sort of smile that only adds to your growing mortification. Shaking your head, you try to hide your amusement as he crumples the note in his hand and, with a casual flick of his wrist, tosses it over his shoulder. Somehow, it lands perfectly in the trash can.

“Show-off,” you mutter under your breath, though you let it slide this time.

“Pizza!” he exclaims, his voice triumphant and brimming with energy, as though he’s just won a hard-fought victory. With the heel of his foot, he kicks the door closed behind him, the soft thud signaling the end of the brief interruption.

A smile lingers in the air between you—yours, his, what difference does it make? It belongs to both of you, in a moment that feels perfectly, unmistakably yours.

[nemisuki]

Sunshine

Jealous AU | It wasn't often you spoke to those outside your class. So imagine his shock when he saw you speaking to a random extra in the hallway. A short oneshot of jealous bakugo and an oblivious girl who is unaware of a lot of things… including their romance.

᧔o᧓ || Katsuki Bakugo x f!reader, no manga spoilers, no nsfw, pure fluff, minor jealous bkg but not toxic, aged up to third years, dense reader, mutual feelings, bkg pov, implied short reader, oneshot, bkg is mature and a softie, open ending, 1.1k word count

He had to do a double take to make sure he wasn't mistaking something. 

His red eyes are practically boring into the student's back – who had the guts to approach you. 

A random extra from another course, a guy he's never seen before. So why the hell are you talking to him? 

As much as he tried, he couldn't look away from the sight. Who knows what they might pull on you. Bakugo can tell by the way the idiot looks at her, that the guy is clearly interested. 

That pissed him off. 

And what pissed him off even more is that she's completely oblivious of it. 

The girl didn't know how beautiful she was. How blinding her smile was when she saw something she liked.

How blinding her smile was when she looked at him.

If only she recognized the significance of her own feelings.

Bakugo could tell she liked him more than a friend should. Yet the dense idiot didn't know how she felt herself. 

He knew she unknowingly developed feelings for him as they started their third year. For someone as perceptive as him, it was easy to notice the clues. 

She clings to him despite his rough demeanor. And easily laughs whenever he grumbles a snarky comment under his breath. Always following him around both in and out of class. 

At first he didn't know what to do. He wasn't one to even think about romance. But her constant proximity threw the blonde off. 

Slowly as time went on, he found himself expecting to see her by his side. Feeling a bit uneasy on those rare days they didn't spend much time together. By the time they were halfway into their last year at UA, that's when he knew. 

He liked her too. As more than a friend. 

For the first time in his life, Katsuki Bakugo yearned for romance. Yet only with her.  

The realization only made him more agitated. Him growing soft for a girl? How ridiculous.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ  ⎯⎯ ✦

He was pulled out of his thoughts a few seconds later. The reason?

The sight of the other guy lifting his hand and picking a piece of lint out of her hair. Not a second later, taking the opportunity to ruffle her hair playfully.

That's what had him speed walking over there with purpose, “Oi Y/N!” 

Her head quickly turns around at the familiar sound of his voice, “Ah Bakugo! Good Morning!” she says with a bright smile, completely forgetting about the other presence behind her. 

That response alone, almost made his stoic expression morph into a cocky grin. Almost. 

He grumbles in acknowledgment as he stands by her side, looking back and forth between her and the extra close by. A silent question directed towards Y/N. To which she seems to figure out immediately. 

“Oh this is Kai from the support course. He had some ideas for potential support gadgets I could use to regulate my quirk!” 

Support course huh. 

Bakugo simply stares at the other guy, a calm yet serious expression displayed across his face. He makes no move to greet this supposed ‘kai’ or even initiate small talk. 

A moment of silence passes between the three of them.

Kai smiles awkwardly in Bakugos direction, a visible indication of how uncomfortable he is. “Erm- well I should be heading to class now. See you around Y/N” he says but then quickly leaves as he makes eye contact with Bakugo. 

Meanwhile the blonde's ego skyrocketed from his success of driving the coward away. His shoulders slightly relax from the defensive stance he wasn't even aware he was doing. 

“Huh? What was that about?” she says looking back at Bakugo with a curious expression. Tilting her head to show her confusion. 

“Tch how the hell should I know. Now hurry up. We gotta head to class” he says, turning around and starting to walk in the direction of their classroom. He doesn't need to look back to know she's already shutting her locker.

“Or do you want to be late?” he says, loud enough for her to hear. 

“Ah, I'm going. Wait up!” she says while proceeding to run to catch up. Slowing down when she reaches his side and adjusting her bag that's draped over her shoulder. 

He occasionally glances at her as she starts babbling about random topics. Though he's not really paying attention to her words. He’s eyeing the side of her head, the specific spot where the other extra touched her. 

Bakugo doesn't know how to feel. 

He's confident in her feelings for him. Confident in his own abilities. 

Yet being a boyfriend… is something he can't comprehend. What exactly makes a good partner? Empathy? Kindness? Vulnerability? 

None of those reside with him. 

He ponders for a moment and takes a look at her cheerful expression. Full of bright joy that could rival the sun. 

His feelings only seem to grow more by the second. 

Without much thought he lifts his hand and gently pats her head. She pauses her endless chatter and hums in acknowledgement, “hm?” 

“Your hair is all messed up from before” he grumbles while fixing the random strands of hair by patting them down in place.

They both halt in the middle of the hallway as she lets him finish. Giggling at the soft sensation of his hand. He raises a brow at her sudden outburst. 

“What's so funny, idiot?” he huffs out and pinches her puffy cheek, unable to resist. 

“It tickles! Plus your hand is really warm. Agh- hey!” she whines slightly at his sudden actions. Trying to pry his hands away and retaliate. Only causing his body to tingle at the contact. 

 ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ 

He likes her. A lot. 

“When are you gonna realize huh” he mumbles to himself. Showing pity and letting go of her face. 

“Huh sorry what was that?” she says smiling while rubbing her sore cheek.

“Nothing nerd. Cmon pick up the pace, you're slow as hell” he rolls his eyes and continues walking to class, not waiting for her yet again. 

“Not my fault I have small legs!” she yells out and jogs after him, already falling behind.

She can't see it but his lips slightly curve up at her words. What an idiot. 

A few minutes before the bell, they make it to their classroom. Bakugo ignores his classmates as usual and makes a beeline to his seat. Sitting down and taking out his notebook. 

He can already hear Y/N chattering away in the background with some of their friends. Yet a few seconds later she's already at his desk to blab on about something else. 

Some of their friends come over as well to join in on the conversation. 

But his eyes never leave her. 

He may not know all the aspects of how to be a good boyfriend but for her, he’ll try. When the time is right. 

For now he could only wait for Y/N to figure out her own feelings. Which frankly might take awhile.

But Bakugo isn't worried. 

Because he knows she'll follow him anywhere. 

And so would he. 

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| idk why this specific fic got so popular?! it's my most viewed work but I prefer my other ones ermmm hi bakugo fans... check out my longer fics? if u want? um i love u all byeeee! plus ultra!

[sistertotheknowitall]

Some Guy on Fear Gas (can apparently turn invisible)

Masterpost

“Danny was supposed to be in class today.”

There was a round of sighs in the coms. See Danny didn’t react in the same manner as the rest of the population when exposed to fear toxin (or in general, but they were mostly used to that). See Danny didn’t scream, he didn’t cry, he didn’t get violent. He got unnervingly paranoid.

He got so unnervingly paranoid about being watched, specifically by the government if the muttered and whispered words were to be believed. His eyes tracked nothing while he slowly moved around invisible people. It wasn't like dealing with someone in an active hallucination experiencing a psychotic break. It was like dealing with someone in a paranoid delusion. He wouldn't let any of the bats near him and often took off, disappearing into the chaos.

Four months into seeing this kid everywhere and their suspicions were confirmed when he literally disappeared after the second time being poisoned.

Danny was a meta and he was afraid.

That’s not the reason for the exasperation felt by this family though. It was what always happened after. The first time he ignored every vigilantly when they tried to bring it up. After the second time he attempted to avoid everyone, extended family included.

(He had asked Kate if she was also Batman’s kid. “More like their aunt.” “Oh okay so it really is a family business. Like that show Unnatural. You don't happen to have also lost your parents at a relatively young age and now go on to fight a dark presence in their honor, do you?.” Kate had stared passively at him, the others had warned her. “….. okay… are you more of a Zuko honor type?”)

However, it was like the universe conspired against Danny. Even Bruce agreed that there had to be some god or being doing this (nothing is ever a coincidence). They kinda felt bad for him. He was very obviously trying to avoid them and he was either really bad at being evasive or a deity was laugh at him. Once he had thrown himself behind a lamp pole smaller than himself and closed his eyes to avoid Stephanie.

(It was very awkward. He could turn invisible and knew they knew so why…..? She had politely continued past so not to embarrass the poor guy further. Cause this was embarrassing and they both knew it.)

Finally it was Duke who pulled them all out of limbo. He had come across Danny on the roof of another bank. A lesser known capital union closer to crime ally this time.

Danny hadn’t been avoiding Duke in the same manner as everyone else. He still stopped to give Duke food but he never spoke and he ran after. Duke thought it would be weird to chase him but it was also weird to turn around, have an orange shoved into his hands then watch his friend run away.

However, this time Danny didn’t run as Duke approached so Duke sat next to him. Pulling out a granola bar, he handed it to Danny, “that’s why you feed me all the time right? Cause you know how many calories we need as metas.”

Danny had laughed, “no actually, that was a bit that morphed into a habit. I just thought it was funny.”

“….what.”

“Don’t get me wrong, now that we’re friends I am more than happy to feed you but yeah. The first candy bar was a thank you and then the second time I thought ‘I have fruit.’”

“….. wow… okay.” There went his plan of empathizing. They sat in silence as Duke tried to reorganize his thoughts.

“I’m sorry for avoiding you all.” Duke turned his head to face Danny, who kept his eyes forward, “you know no one cares that you’re a meta.” “Obviously. It wasn’t the invisibility that I was upset about," Danny said.

“The muttering. The paranoia.” Danny grimaced and didn’t say anything.

“You don’t have to tell us till you’re ready, man. Just let us know if you need help. Please, are you safe?”

Danny nodded and Duke nodded back and they had both continued to sit. When they parted ways Danny handed Duke a small bag of chips.

Danny had apologized everyone one at a time even though they had heard it from Duke. Danny never explained nor did he want to talk about his it. His power of invisibility was also a subject off limits. All of them were worried but they didn’t want to force him to talk about it. They had to trust that he would one day feel comfortable doing so with any or all of them. (Still, it was hard seeing their friend so paranoid that he flinched back from them. )

Post Six

[sukunasteeth]

Stitches

Sukuna has never made you wait for him.

He was always on time, always there before you, and if circumstances arose where-in he couldn't be, you always knew an hour before. You were never left to wonder or worry.

If Sukuna says he'll be there, he's there.

So when you wake up to his cold and empty bed, after hours of waiting for him to return home from work, you want to assume the best case scenario.

He's just working late, you assure yourself when your eyes find the clock on the nightstand and it tells you that it's two o'clock in the morning. Maybe he was so entranced in whatever he was tending to that he had forgotten to call you and tell you he'd be late. It had never happened before, but there was a first time for everything.

You try not to trip over your own two feet on your way to the bathroom, ignoring the dread that immediately darkens your thoughts upon checking your phone for the hundredth time that night.  

No call. No text... Did he tell you in person earlier in the day and you had simply forgotten?

What if he's hurt?

You round the corner of the hallway.

What if he's in trouble?

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't even register seeing the bathroom light peeking out from under the door.

You push it open.

What if he's-

Standing over the sink, dripping in blood, and using a fishing line to sew up an enormous gash splitting into his side?

You're frozen in the doorway. 

Faced with the unfortunate answer to the questions that had been progressively plaguing you the entirety of the night. Shock grips your throat and has a cold sweat breaking out over your skin.

You haven't seen him so roughed up since the two of you were in high school. Sukuna, always hungry for a test of strength, had often walked you home with a bloody nose or a ripped open pair of knuckles, but this would be the first time you've seen him look like he just rolled out of a fight club ring. 

He's taken off his suit jacket and his usually pristine white button down has been torn to shreds. The pieces that are left of it have adhered to the deepest of his wounds, soaked in crimson. He's holding up the hem of his shirt with his teeth, glaring down at a particularly large slice in his torso as he feeds a needle into the skin and puts himself back together again. One of his eyes is swollen and there's a small cut to the side of it. You can tell that he'll have a black eye come morning. Sukuna must see you in the corner of it, because he suddenly turns to look at you. The edge of his shirt falls out of his mouth, but Sukuna doesn't seem to notice, too surprised by your presence.

The two of you take each other in. Silently appraising the situation.

Before you can react, his surprise is already morphing into a resigned, disappointed sigh.

"Aw shit."

"What the HELL?!" You don't recognize the voice that escapes you in your panic. Raspy from the sleep still coating your throat, disjointed as your tonsils remember themselves and yet forget how to operate in your shock. You're across the room in a flash, nearly tripping headfirst into him in your haste. "What happened?! Y-You're hurt. Why are you hurt? Jesus, that looks so bad- oh my god. 'Kuna-"

"Shhh," He's hushing you. You're close enough for him to reach out with his free hand and pull you even closer, he doesn't seem to notice the streak of fresh blood he leaves behind on your wrist. "It's not as bad as it looks."

"You're covered in blood!" You whisper in horror, you search his eyes for even an ounce of alarm, and find only his usual nonchalance lounging there. As though this was nothing out of the ordinary.

He even looks down at himself like he wants to refute you, but when he picks up the collar of his shirt, finding the shredded pieces of what remained of it, he seems to think better. 

"Little bastards didn't do half bad, actually." He mutters to himself. He almost sounds... impressed. "Any deeper and it could have really been a pain in my ass."

"What happened?" You ask again, desperate.

"Just some kids waiting outside of the office." He rubs at the back of his head, and you notice another small cut there over a raised bump that seems to be swelling at the base of his skull. It must be tender, because he grimaces when he grazes it. You do too, just from watching him. "Trying to make some pocket money off of me and Uraume. They should have at least waited until we were both alone." When he pulls his hand away from his head, there's fresh blood glistening on his fingertips. He sucks his teeth. "Amateurs."

You take a deep, steadying breath- willing your heartbeat to slow.

You were the one who decided to fall for a man constantly looking for a good fight. At this point, you had only yourself to be disappointed with.

Without another word you turn your back to him and head straight for the shower. You needed him to wash off. You wouldn't be able to tell which parts of him needed attention in the mess that was currently coating his skin and you were already preparing mentally to tend to him. You spin the dial to ‘hot’ and turn back to him, trying your best to glare. You didn't think it was working very well. Especially because he's smiling softly at you.

"Get in." You command, pointing to the tub.

Sukuna scoffs softly, turning back to his needle and fishing line.

"It's fine.” He brushes you off. “I'm just going to rinse the cuts as I go-"

"Sukuna." You don't mean for it to come out as demanding as it does. Sukuna was hurt. You wanted to be gentle with him, but you can't help how overwhelmed you are at the sight of him battered to such a degree.

He slowly lifts his head like he was giving you time to think about the way you had just spoken to him before he meets your eyes again. You're too roused to take it back. "Get. In."

You can tell in his momentary silence that he doesn't recognize this shade of frustration on you. He's watching you like he's trying to take in every detail of it. Engrave it into his brain. Part of you is reminded in that moment that it wasn't Sukuna's anger you were in risk of pushing, but rather his excitement.

He folds up the fishing line and loops it around the sewing needle, placing it onto the counter without turning to look at it.

Your unrelenting stance falters a bit as he crosses the room after you, unbuttoning his dress shirt as he goes. His eyes never leave yours, testing your will.

When he makes it to you, he's brimming with pride. His belt clinks when he unloops the first notch. 

"Yes ma'am." He purrs.

...

An hour later, he's as clean as he can be and sitting on the closed lid of the toilet seat. You're perched in his lap, having already finished stitching shut the larger wounds that needed it. Now you're down to the last small cut left, which is on his cheek. It didn't require much attention, it was a tiny graze compared to the rest of the gashes you had tended to.

You can feel Sukuna watching you with a smitten little smile, like you had just spent the past hour silently telling him how much you adored him with your gentle but stern touches.

It ticks you off.

"Stop looking at me like that." You mutter, pressing the last of the steri-strips against his skin.

He doesn't even pretend to stop. You refuse to meet his gaze as you do a final examination of your handiwork. Finally, with him properly patched up and without a single drop of fresh blood in sight, the pain in your heart eases. He was okay. 

"...Why didn't you have Uraume help you with this before you came home?" You pretend to reassess one of the gauze strips on his bicep, but it's really just an excuse to nervously pick at the cotton while you're underneath his gaze.

There were plenty of people at the office who knew how to deal with wounds to this severity, professional medics that could have sewed him up twice as fast and sent him home just as clean as when he had arrived. So why did he wait so long for help?

Sukuna hums and his bandaged knuckles glide up and down the outsides of your thighs. "Maybe I like watching you play nurse."

"Kuna~" You groan hopelessly, letting your head thunk against his shoulder. "Quit teasing. I'm mad at you." You announce.

It only serves to widen his grin, which you can feel pressed against your hair as he kisses your forehead.

"But you're so cute when you want to be mad at me." He mocks your tone of voice and chuckles when you press your thumb into the bandage on his bicep in an attempt to punish him-just a bit.

Quickly, he snatches your hand, locking the both of your fingers together and gently nudging your head with his own. Silently asking you to look up again.

You're trying your best to pout at him, but you're surprised to see softness where you expected to find mischief in his expression. There's a warm fondness to his gaze. One you usually only see him wear when he's watching you talk about something you're particularly passionate about.

"I'm sorry I made you worry." The genuineness of the statement softens the hard lines of your face. And just like that, you completely forget that you’re supposed to be mad at him. His fingers trace the space between your brows where he had just made an angry knot disappear. "I do hate it when I do that."

Maybe it was a tactic to get off the hook. But it was a good one. It even has you feeling guilty for being hard on him. 

"I don't like seeing you covered in blood." You whisper, finally meeting his eyes. The glimmer there is triumphant.

"I'll hose off out front next time, how's that?"

You bite back a laugh at the image, trying to keep your stern disposition. You lean in, so as to impart the severity of your tone. "No next time."

Sukuna leans in closer, "And I'll have to get you a nurse's outfit."

"No next time!"

You were in love with the epitome of mischief. There was always going to be a next time.

[puckinghischier]

Spotlight

luke hughes x fem!reader

summary - reader prefers to stay out of the spotlight being luke hughes’ girlfriend brings

notes - y’all asked for luke, so luke you’ll get. i wanted to try to get out at least one more fic for you guys before my semester kicks off tomorrow. i don’t know how often i’ll be able to write once things get going, but i’m going to try my best not to completely disappear again. i don’t really like the ending of this, but i hope you enjoy it anyways. happy reading! 🫶🏼

request - “go with me?” “only if you’ll hold my hand” “take my jacket, i don’t want you catching a cold”

[2.3k]

You were someone that absolutely hated the spotlight. You hated the feeling of eyes on you, the knowledge that every move you make is being observed and analyzed.

You flew under the radar all through school, until college. You managed to become valedictorian of your program, earning a highly sought after position with a company based out of New Jersey.

The city has always brought a sense of anonymity to you that you’ve enjoyed. The ability to be a stranger everywhere you go brings a certain comfort to you.

That is, until you met one of the most well-known men in Jersey.

You first met Luke at an event your company was hosting in partnership with the Devils to present them with a hefty donation for a new practice facility. You had tried to get out of going, suit and tie events not being your typical scene, but your boss informed you that you were required to attend.

Even wearing the most plain dress you could find, you caught the attention of none other than the team’s rookie defenseman. You had tried to politely make your exit, but Luke was too intrigued by the pretty stranger in the corner.

The two of you had spent the rest of the night talking, despite the feeling of every eye on you as Luke lead you back to a table. The two of you exchanged numbers at the end of the event, Luke inviting you out to a game. He offered to give you a ticket, but you informed him that your company had rink-side season seats, courtesy of the GM after the donation.

You attended games regularly after that night, blending in the sea of red with Luke’s own Jersey on your back—another perk of the large donation— while also chatting with Luke nearly every day over text, which eventually morphed into phone calls, then facetime calls when he was on the road.

Four months after your initial meeting, Luke decided to make it official and put a label on your relationship.

You had worried about the unwanted attention that came with being a ‘WAG’ as you learned the other significant others on the team were nicknamed, but your feelings for Luke were greater than any discomfort you may experience.

Now, though, looking at the hoard of photographers that are stationed around the rink, your anxiety begins to spike a little.

“Honeybee, I promise it’ll be fine. They probably won’t even focus on us, anyways. They’ll want a few shots of me and Jack with mom and dad, but it’s likely they’ll be too busy on the guys with kids to even notice you’re with me,” Luke reassures you, crouched in front of you while tying your skates.

Today was family skate day for the team, Luke having asked you weeks ago to participate with him.

You agreed, despite your limited ability to skate, thinking it was just going to be the players and their families, no media presence. When you arrived with Luke this morning, however, and you saw the photographers trying to get pictures through the windows of Luke’s BMW, you realized you were wrong.

“I’m just nervous, Luke,” you tell him quietly. “I know if they release pictures of you with a girl during family skate it’s going to be the next big hockey gossip topic, and then it’ll feel like I’m under a microscope.”

Luke’s soft eyes look up at you, sensing the nervousness in your own.

“I know, sweet girl. But I promise, I’ll have Tom talk to the media and tell him to withhold any pictures of us together, if that makes you feel better?” he offers, picking up your now skate clad foot off of his knee and placing it on the padded floor.

You think about the offer, but realize it would still cause unwanted attention on you. You don’t want to be difficult, just invisible.

“No, I don’t want to overcomplicate things. It’s fine. Like you said, I’m sure they’ll mostly focus on everyone else,” you smile down at him, watching his own grin overtake his face.

“Well then, it’s time we finally get you acquainted with the ice. I have a feeling you’ll be seeing a lot of it in your future,” he winks, standing to his full height and holding a hand out to help you off of the bench.

He helps you walk over to the entrance to the rink, steadying you after every wobble. Once you reached the gate, you hesitate, halting your movements.

“C’mon, Honeybee. Go with me?” Luke asks you, already having stepped on the ice.

Thinking about what this means once more, and the huge step it is, no only onto the ice but in your relationship, you hesitate for only a few seconds.

“Only if you hold my hand,” you tell him, your words going deeper than just ice skating.

“Always,” he responds, tugging your hands towards him when you step onto the ice, shakily keeping your balance.

“Well, look at you, Wallflower, out here skating with the big dogs,” Jack calls out, skating up towards you and Luke.

Looking over to give him a short smile, you try to keep a majority of your attention on not falling over as Luke slowly pulls you towards him as he skates backwards.

“Figured it can’t be that hard if you do it all the time,” you tease him back, the two of you becoming close friends over the course of yours and Luke’s relationship.

Jack, as rambunctious and rowdy as he can be, is one of the people who works the hardest to keep you out of the spotlight, other than Luke, of course.

On the rare occasion you decide to tag along for team outings with Luke, Jack will act as your own personal body guard, perfectly hiding you in-between him and Luke anytime there’s a flash of a camera or a squeal of a fan.

“Oh, yeah, make fun of the professional. Let’s see you do this,” Jack makes a big show of skating backwards while swiveling, then executing a very poor jump, but still managing to land upright on his skates.

You roll your eyes at him, only glancing up for a few seconds at a time, trying to keep your eyes on your own feet.

“Alright, Jack, that’s enough showing off. Give the poor girl a break,” you hear Ellen scold her middle child as her and Jim skate over towards the three of you, hand in hand.

“Hey, she started it. I was just trying to defend myself,” he holds his hands up in surrender.

Luke guides you over to one of the short walls, allowing you to hold onto it for support for a second, giving you a break.

“Don’t act like you have to have a reason to show off, it’s just your natural state,” you tease Jack again, earning a laugh from the rest of the group.

“You got me there,” Jack doesn’t argue, shrugging his shoulders in agreement.

“Jack! Luke! Over here!” you hear a voice yell, turning to look at the photographer a few feet away from you, leaning over the wall with his camera pointed in your direction.

You feel the spike of anxiety in your chest, attempting to scoot further down the wall to separate yourself from them, but nearly losing your balance.

Luckily Luke was right there to catch you. “Hey, it’s okay. They’ll just get a few pictures of our family together and then move on,” he assures you once he makes sure you’re steady enough to be left alone.

You watch as Jack and Luke position themselves in just the right way that you’re completely hidden behind them, the added bodies of Ellen and Jim only ensuring your hidden state.

The photographer snaps a few shots of the family before giving a thumbs up, looking down to check the quality of his pictures.

You let out the breath you were holding in, sagging a bit at the relief of avoiding any unwanted attention.

“See, told you there was nothing to worry about,” Luke skates over to you again, leading you away from the wall.

“Luke! How about a shot of you and your lady!” the same photographer yells out, causing your relaxed state to turn rigid in a heartbeat.

“Nah, man. No pictures for her today. Just me and Jack,” Luke replies, skating to stand in front of you, blocking you from the camera pointed at you.

“Oh, c’mon, man. The fans will love it!” the photographer tries again, attempting to move positions to catch a glimpse of you.

“He said, no, man. Go get some shots of Cap or something. She doesn’t want her picture taken,” Jack skates up, standing in front of both you and Luke.

The photographer rolls his eyes, agitated at the loss of a good picture opportunity. “Fine, whatever,” the man huffs, turning and walking towards Nico and his family.

“Thanks, you guys,” you mumble out, embarrassed at the interaction.

“I told you, no pictures if you don’t want them,” Luke turns to face you, taking your hands in his once again, pulling you out further onto the ice.

The rest of the skate goes smoothly, no more unwanted attention from the photographers, just you and Luke and his family skating in small circles and having a good time.

Towards the end of the skate, you start bringing your gloved hands up to rub at your red nose, the chill of the ice finally getting to you.

“You cold, Honeybee?” Luke asks you, knowing how chilled you get, even when wearing layers like you were right now.

“Yeah, it’s a little chilly in here. Not that you’d know,” you tease your boyfriend, gesturing to his full set of pads and jersey he was wearing. Not to mention his tolerance for the cold anyways.

He leads the two of you over towards the benches, leaving you leaned against the wall for a second before returning with something in his hands.

“Here, take my jacket, I don’t want you catching a cold,” he tells you, draping your favorite plaid jacket of his over your shoulders.

You put your arms through the large sleeves, loving how you were now engulfed in the smell of his cologne.

Thanking him, you lean up to give him a small kiss, not caring who was watching, lost in your love for your boyfriend.

“Alright, let’s get you out of these skates and back into your normal shoes before people start filing in for warm ups. I have a game to play and you have to get to your seat so you can watch your hunky boyfriend do his manly job of hitting people and chasing a piece of rubber on ice,” he tells you, causing you to laugh at him, bringing a hand up to ruffle his curls.

After helping you remove your skates, and pouting until you give him a good luck kiss, Luke shoos you away so you can make your way to your usual seat, Jim and Ellen opting to join you at the glass rather than sitting in a box with some of the other player parents.

The boys ended up winning their game, Luke coming straight out of the locker room after the game and picking you up in a celebratory spin, claiming you have to go skating with him before every game now.

You laugh at his superstitious self, grabbing his hand and walking towards the exit of the rink with him to join the rest of the team for celebratory drinks, not wanting to bail on Luke after such a game.

Weeks later, when you see an article containing the pictures from the family skate event, you click on it and scroll through the various snapshots.

You find yourself smiling at all of the family pictures of Luke’s teammates, enjoying how happy the guys are to have their wives and kids with them on the ice.

Scrolling all the way to the end of the article, you find yourself stopping on a couple pictures in particular, the familiar pit of anxiety forming in your stomach.

The last two pictures in the article are pictures of you and Luke. The first was taken when he was zipping up the jacket he gave you, the two of you looking at each other with so much fondness you could feel the love radiating from the picture.

The second is when you were craning your neck to give Luke a small kiss, the picture captured right before your lips touched, both of you smiling at the other with the same fond look in your eyes.

Your immediate reaction should have been a level three meltdown, your picture out there with Luke, officially, in an ESPN article of all places, but you were surprisingly calm. You should have been screaming and angry, having specifically told the photographer no pictures, but you couldn’t find that anger within yourself.

The pictures showcased yours and Luke’s love for each other so well, you wanted copies of them for yourself. Suddenly you didn’t care if people knew your name, or your face. You could care less if you were front and center on every hockey gossip page in existence.

All you cared about was the amount of happiness you saw on Luke’s face in the pictures, and how deeply you felt about him.

So, when Luke called you an hour later, panicked and telling you he was in the process of getting them taken down, you told him it didn’t matter. They didn’t need to be taken down, because you didn’t care if you had to stand naked in the middle of the rink during puck drop at his next game, you just wanted people to know you loved him with every ounce of your being.

Your aversion to attention be damned, seeing these pictures made you want to scream your love for him from the rooftop of the highest building in Jersey. You were still opposed to the idea of unwanted and unnecessary attention, but decided right here that there would be no more hiding. You were going to be there for Luke in any way he wanted or needed you from here on out. And if you happened to be caught in a few pictures on the way? Well, you guess you’ll just have to get them framed.