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yogirl-willow · 15 days ago

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The Crimson Pact | Part 2

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, mild stalking, romantic psychological tension, mentions of implied past death / reincarnation, intense emotional fixation, yearning, a little dirty talk (if you squint), dark romance, sick!reader, mild supernatural body horror (bond sickness), demons, comfort and control.

Author's notes: Thank you guys so much for all your comments, reposts, and likes! I'm definitely motivated to continue this story and have some plans in mind for the future chapters. 🥰

───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

Part 2:

Tethered in Silence

You wake up every morning feeling… better. But it doesn’t make sense. Because during the day, you feel sick. Nauseous. Lightheaded.

Your skin prickles like you’re wearing clothes that don’t belong to you. Sometimes you forget where you are mid-thought. Your body feels too heavy for this life.

But at night?

You sleep deeply. Without nightmares. Without fear.

It started the day you ran from them.

And you don’t understand it. You’ve done nothing different. No medicine works during the day. But when the sun sets… Your body calms. Your breathing evens out. You feel—safe.

You tell yourself it’s just exhaustion. You don’t know that each night, one of them watches over you.

Sometimes it’s Mystery, curled up outside your window, nose pressed to the glass like a loyal animal waiting to be let inside. He never scratches. Just listens for your breathing to steady—then smiles softly in the dark.

Sometimes it’s Romance, leaving rose petals beneath your balcony, humming one of the songs he swore he wrote just for you. The same one you’ve caught yourself humming without realizing.

Sometimes it’s Jinu—who, when your fever spikes, slips silently into your room just to stand near you until the bond calms. He never moves. Never speaks. Just watches you with reverence and restraint, fists clenched tight to keep himself from reaching for you.

And sometimes—only sometimes—it’s Baby. Not close. Just nearby. Leaning against the wall across the street. Eyes glowing faintly under his hood. Unmoving.

Watching.

They never touch you. Only witness. Only ache.

Your light. Their everything.

They hate to feel your suffering during the day—a consequence of the bond forming without proximity. But they hope that this pain you carry is what drives you toward them.

Because every night, you sleep because they’re there. And you don’t even know it.

You wake up on a Wednesday, feeling well rested—though you know that won’t last long. It never does. You sit on your counter, chewing breakfast slowly, staring off at nothing. Your eyes drift to the shelf.

Romance’s book.

It’s been sitting there for days. Untouched. Daring.

You don’t want to admit you’re curious. But your hand moves anyway. “How did he even know I wanted to read this?” You mutter around a mouthful of bread.

You waddle to the couch and crack it open. Your heart’s not ready, but you flip through the pages. And then—

You freeze.

A passage, underlined in neat black ink:

“Love that spans lifetimes is never gentle. It devours slowly.”

Your breath catches.

The creeping feeling in your chest tightens. Longing. Yearning. You don’t even know for what.

Nope.

You slam the book shut.

Not today.

You work overtime at the café the next few days, thinking you’ll outrun whatever this is. But the nights remain the same. Each one of them leaves something. A new sketchbook on your doorstep, the paper thick and expensive, with a note from Mystery:

“For when you draw us again.”

You haven’t seen him. But your heart races every time you hear footsteps outside. You swear you hear purring through the window once, but shake it off.

The day after, you come home late, too tired to even stand. You drop your bag. Your stomach growls. But your apartment smells like miso and spice. Your favorite ramen sits warm on the stove. No signs of forced entry. No windows broken. Your locks were fine. You tell yourself you must’ve made it before and forgot. You try not to look at the empty bowl already set out for you.

After that, it becomes a pattern.

Groceries show up on your doorstep. Snacks you forgot you liked. Drinks you told no one about. Sometimes a sticky note:

“Don’t skip meals, brat.” (You know it’s from Abby. You roll your eyes… and smile.)

They don’t push. But they never leave.

Letters. Tickets. Handwritten invitations. Concerts. Fanmeets. Award shows. You never go. But you read them all.

The private session ticket with your name in looping calligraphy stays on your desk. You’ve moved it twelve times. You’ve never thrown it away.

Then, on Friday of the next week, comes a final envelope.

No ticket.

No flower.

Just a single sheet of paper, torn at the edges. The ink slightly smudged like someone had been holding it for too long before sealing it. You unfold it slowly.

‘You don’t have to believe us.Just let us prove it.’—J

You sit back on your couch. Everything aches. You’re tired. Dizzy. Burning with fever in the afternoon, freezing by night. It’s getting harder to deny what’s happening. You keep telling yourself it’s a prank. A stunt. A delusion.

They’re famous. Rich. Beautiful. They have no reason to want you.

You met them once.

But the bond doesn’t care about logic. The bond wants what it wants. And as you stare at that letter in your trembling hands… You start to wonder if maybe—just maybe— you want them too.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

By Sunday, you’re fed up from feeling so sick and decide to go and buy new medicines. You’re pale. Shivering. Oblivious to the way demons on the street stop in their tracks when they see you.

One begins to follow you.

From the shadows, Rumi, Zoey, and Mira spot it.

“Target marked,” Zoey whispers.

“No incident,” Rumi replies. “Quiet takedown.”

They move in—silent, lethal. Weapons at the ready.

But then the demon sees your face.

It freezes.

Eyes wide. It backs away, trembling, then flees like it’s seen a god. You never notice. You’re inside buying Tylenol.

The girls stare after you.

“What the hell?” Rumi questions, watching as the other demons in the area back off and run somewhere else.

“That’s… not normal,” Mira mutters.

“Is it her?” Zoey questions, watching your sick form drop a vitamin jelly and curse pathetically. Pity erupts in her chest. “She seems pretty normal to me…”

“Something’s off.” Rumi states, analyzing you. You seemed like a very normal person. No markings whatsoever. Why did they flee? “Maybe we should look into it a bit more..?”

“We can run a background check.” Mira suggests. “Though it’ll just be for precaution. We shouldn’t- ZOEY?”

The rapper of the group was slowly walking towards you with the intent of engaging in conversation.

The fluorescent lights above hum louder than usual.

Your head is pounding. Your limbs feel like lead. Every movement takes just a little more effort than it should.

You shuffle toward the over-the-counter shelf, fingers grazing through boxes of headache meds and nausea tablets. You’ve been here too many times this week.

“You okay? You look like the flu’s winning.”

The voice is light, teasing, warm.

You glance sideways and nearly drop your medicines again. Cool. Effortlessly pretty. The kind of girl who belongs on your feed—not in front of you, talking like you’re friends.

You know her face. You’ve seen her before. Not in person. But in clips. In edits. She’s Zoey—one of the girls from Huntrix.

“Sorry,” she says, flashing an easy grin. “Didn’t mean to startle you. You looked like I did last week when I thought I had the plague but it was just anxiety and kombucha withdrawals.”

You nod stiffly. Your throat is dry. “Yeah. I’ve just… been off…sorry, you’re Zoey, right? As in from Huntrix?”

She giggles nervously. “Yeah, I just need to grab a few things too.” She steps closer to the shelves. Casually, like she’s just browsing. “Cold stuff’s over there, but if it’s more like… migraines or vertigo? These work way faster.” She taps a pack of fast-acting tablets and hands them to you.

You take them without thinking, a little starstruck. “Thanks.”

She studies you—not overtly. But it’s there. Her eyes linger too long on your face. “No problem! I hope you feel better! Uh... I, sorry I didn’t get your name-”

“Y/N” you nodded with a nervous smile.

“Great to meet you, Y/N! Maybe when you feel better we could hang out sometime. Get your instagram?”

You stammered, mouth gaping then closing. What was with all these pop stars approaching you as of late? “Uh, yeah, sure…” You said blinking. You were too sick for this. Why did you have to meet one of the most famous people in the country now when you looked this shitty? And she wanted your instagram? Is this real life?

You told her your instagram handle and she smiled. “Awesome! Well, I hope you feel better.” she started to walk away and you raised an eyebrow. “Uh… weren’t you supposed to get something?”

Zoey turned red and laughed nervously. “Oh- right! Silly me. My memory is so bad. Thanks for reminding me!”

You nodded, still a bit shocked at this whole encounter and went to pay for your medicine.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The next day, You see a clip on TikTok. It was the Saja Boys at a fanmeet. Laughing with the Huntrix girls, though the girls seemed less enthusiastic. You scroll through more of your feed and stop when you see an image.

It was Jinu and Rumi playing footsies.

You feel a pang in your heart and scroll on.

Zoey playfully hitting Mystery and his little pout after that.

Romance and Abby fanart with Mira.

"Miromabby is real!"

"Zoestery supremacy."

"Rujinu playing footsies? They’re the cutest!"

Your stomach drops.

You turn your phone off. Then on. Then off again.

“They’re not mine,” you whisper to convince yourself. “They were never mine.” You feel yourself getting weaker. A sinking feeling in your gut. It’s unexplainable. You were the one avoiding all of the boys and their madness. Why would something like this upset you? You were the one rejecting their invites.

And then something just breaks.

The next weekend, your coworkers drag you out. They mean well. You look like you haven’t slept in days, and so when one of the girls invited you to come out with them after work on a Saturday, you accept.

They take you to a club. Loud music. Glittering lights. Free drinks. You tell yourself you deserve it.

But deep down, you feel wrong. Like you’re doing something unforgivable.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The boys are in their studio, practicing choreo for an upcoming show when Mystery jolts upright mid-step. His head whips toward the door. His pupils dilate. And then—

He growls. Low. Deep. Animal.

They freeze.

Romance is the first to stop moving, lips parting as he slowly lowers his mic. Abby drops into a ready stance like he’s about to charge into something. “What? What is it? What is she feeling now?”

He’s been on edge for days. Every time Mystery whimpers about your nausea or fever, he paces like a caged beast. Every time your scent spikes with sadness, he throws something across the room. It’s taken both Jinu and Baby to restrain him—twice this week alone. Once when Mystery said you slipped in the shower. Another when your heart rate flatlined in fear while walking home alone. He hasn’t stopped shaking since.

“Tell me,” Abby grits. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Mystery’s hands twitch. “She’s not alone.”

Romance is already unlocking his phone, screen flipping up to your page—he checks it a hundred times a day. Sometimes a thousand. He breathes in sharply.

“She posted. Or—no, someone tagged her.”

A nightclub. Low lighting. Your smile—nervous. Shy. And then—other men.

Hands brushing your waist. A stranger whispering in your ear. Your head tilting back in a laugh that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

The phone screen burns in Romance’s hand. His smirk dies. “Is that her?” he asks. But he already knows the answer.

Abby doesn’t bother replying. He rips the phone from Romance’s grip and snarls, muscles tensing beneath his shirt as he glares at the video. “Who the fuck are those guys?” he growls, loud enough to shake the chandelier above. “Why is he touching her? Why is she letting—”

A teacup shatters.

Baby hadn’t moved. But his hand had clenched just enough to crush the porcelain in his grip. He stands at the edge of the room, statue-still. His pupils blown wide, pitch black. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. His breathing is slow—too slow—as he watches the clip loop.

He’s memorizing the men’s faces. So he knows who to kill first.

Mystery lets out a sound—not human. It rips from his throat like a guttural whine and a growl, high-pitched and wet. His claws are out, twitching.

“She’s letting strangers touch her,” Baby says softly. But it’s not soft. It’s dangerous.

Romance’s voice is velvet-wrapped venom. He’s smiling again, but the smile is hollow—like a cracked mask. “She’s trying to forget us,” he murmurs. “Trying to pretend she doesn’t belong to us.” His voice dips. “It won’t work.”

There’s a snap. A shift. Something ancient uncoils in the room. The temperature drops. Power hums in the air like static before a storm.

And then—they move. No plan. No hesitation. No words. Just instinct. Baby’s already calling Jinu. The leader’s in a meeting—still gathering intelligence on Rumi, on the Hunters, on the fragile balance between war and reunion.

The phone rings once. “Yes?” Jinu’s voice is curt, sharp with authority.

“She’s at the club,” Baby says calmly.

Jinu doesn’t respond at first. There’s the sound of footsteps. A tiger’s whine. Then Baby adds, like a bullet to the heart:

“Men are touching her.”

The phone crackles. Not with sound, but with energy. Dark, feral, electric. Baby can feel the shift through the line. Something old stirs. Something broken. Then—

Jinu’s voice returns. But it’s not Jinu.

It’s the voice of the thing that crawled to Gwi Ma 400 years ago, begging to bring you back. It’s older. Colder. Hungrier.

“Where is she?”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

You're tipsy. Laughing. Warm. The club pulses like a heartbeat beneath your skin—bass thudding through your ribs, lights smearing color over your vision. You haven’t felt this loose in ages. Not since university. Not since before the dreams started. Before the headaches. Before the boys.

Your coworkers sway around you, drunk and shouting. One of them pours you another shot. You take it. You let it burn. It’s easier to blame the sick feeling in your chest on the alcohol now. Easier than admitting that you’ve been haunted.

You don’t notice the guy your friends brought getting too close. Not at first. He presses against your back under the excuse of helping you keep balance. His hand slides to your waist. You laugh it off. You don’t want to make a scene.

Another drink. Another dizzy smile. Another moment where you forget who you are. “Come on,” he says, too close to your ear. “Let me walk you home.”

You nod. You shouldn’t have.

He throws his jacket over your shoulders like it’s a favor. Wraps an arm around you. Guides you through the club’s glowing mouth into the alley beside it.

The world tilts sideways. Your pulse buzzes against your skull. And then—you round the corner.

And they're there.

Five shadows cut from the dark like carved obsidian. They don’t speak. They don’t have to. Your breath hitches in your throat. The bond snaps into place like a noose and for the first time all night—you can breathe. The ache behind your eyes disappears. Your limbs go steady. Your nausea evaporates. And even in your drunken haze, you know it’s because of them.

The boys who haunt your dreams. The demons who ruin your peace. The monsters who feel like home.

Abby moves first. He doesn’t speak to you. His full, furious attention is on the man still touching you. “Touch her again,” Abby growls, voice low and venomous, “and I’ll shatter every bone in your body.”

Romance steps into view, golden eyes gleaming like firelight. He tsks, slow and mocking. “Naughty girl,” he murmurs, eyes trailing down your body like he’s savoring the view of you in your dress. “Out here, letting strangers paw at what isn’t theirs.”

His gaze lingers on your thighs. The hem of your dress. Your dazed expression. You see the muscle in his jaw twitch. “She forgot us,” he says with a small, cruel smile. “So she let herself be touched.”

Romance leans in with a sickly sweet smile aimed at the guy by your side. “She’s not yours to protect,” he whispers. “So if you would so kindly… fuck off.”

The guy squares his shoulders. “Who the hell do you think—” His voice dies the moment his eyes land on the figure behind them all.

Baby.

Still. Silent. Watching. His pupils are blown wide, pitch black. Shadows crawl up his arms like smoke.

The guy’s bravado crumples. “Hey, hey—I didn’t know she was spoken for…” He stumbles back. Your balance wavers.

Mystery darts forward, catching you in his arms like you were made to fit there. He buries his nose in your neck with a shaky inhale. Like it's the only thing in the entire world that could calm him down. You don’t push him away.

“Y/N? You know these guys?” your friend calls weakly.

“Uh huh,” you mumble. Your voice is slurred, but you don’t miss how Romance is staring—burning holes through your clothes. Your spine prickles. He rakes his eyes over you slowly, like memorizing every inch. You remember the way he said you belonged to him. And for a second, you want to.

Abby moves closer again, jaw tense. His eyes flick from your dazed expression to the guy who dared to touch you earlier. He sees red.

“Take care of him,” Baby says, the words barely audible—but they’re a death sentence. Abby cracks his knuckles.

“With pleasure.”

“Don’t look, baby,” Mystery whispers into your ear. You shiver. His voice is soft, but it carries heat. Danger. Something low coils in your stomach, and lower still. His hands tighten around your waist and you melt. You don’t even notice the scream behind you.

“You came,” you slur, eyes glossy. “I… feel better now…”

“Is that so, princess?” Romance frowns, stepping closer. He tilts your chin with two fingers. The bond flares. A moan slips from his throat before he can stop it. His eyes fall lower—to the swell of your chest in that too-short dress.

“Did you wear this for them?” He asks through gritted teeth. “For all those men to see you like this?”

His jaw tenses. His hands twitch. Mystery’s fingers dig into your hips and you gasp. It’s too much. You whimper. And it breaks something in all of them.

Romance yanks his hand back like he’s been burned, turning away with a curse. Marks rise on his skin, glowing faintly. You don’t even notice.

But then—

Jinu steps from the shadows. His gaze is ice. Piercing. Regal. He spares no glance for the man Abby dragged away. Only you.

“You’re drunk,” he says flatly.

You flinch.

“You’re reckless.”

Tears prick at your eyes. You know you shouldn’t have gone out. You know you shouldn’t feel better just because they’re here. But you do. Jinu’s hand reaches for your jaw, and you go still. The moment his fingers graze your skin, the bond explodes between you. You can’t breathe.

He leans down until your noses almost touch.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So reckless. So breakable.”

Jinu trails his nose on the side of your neck causing a shiver to erupt down your spine.

“If you’d stopped pretending this wasn’t real, you’d be spread across my lap, begging us to forgive you.”

You suck in a breath. Every nerve in your body screams. You squeeze your thighs together. This is wrong. This is insane. You should be running.

But you’re not.

You’re melting.

He lets go. You nearly fall forward—but he catches you. Of course he does.

They don’t ask.

They don’t wait.

They take you home.

Theirs.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

From the rooftop nearby, Mira watches the scene unfold.

The way the boys surround you.

The way you lean into them like they’re the only thing keeping you alive.

And then—

They vanish in smoke. With you.

She presses a finger to her earpiece. “She’s not normal,” she whispers. “And she’s gone with them.”

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The sheets are silk under your touch. A splitting headache forms and you groan, last night’s party flooding back like a cruel wave. You decide you’re never drinking again.

Your eyes open—and your stomach twists. The ceiling isn’t yours. You bolt upright, heart pounding. And they’re there.

All five of them. Beautiful. Dangerous. Familiar in a way that makes your soul ache. They’re watching you. Some with concern. Some with reverence. Some like they want to devour you.

“Where am I?” you breathe. Your voice shakes. “Why am I here?”

You look around wildly, mind racing. You remember the latter events of the night. Romance’s gaze. Mystery’s breath on your ear. Abby’s voice like thunder. Baby’s black eyes. Jinu’s warning...

“You took me,” you gasp. “You took me.”

Abby steps forward first—hands raised like you’re a spooked animal. “You were in danger.”

“I was out with my friends,” you argue.

Mystery whispers from where he kneels near the door. “You’re always in danger when you’re not with us.” His voice is soft, but it cuts like glass.

Romance kneels beside the bed next. Too graceful. Too close. “Let us explain.”

You scramble back, trembling. “No. No more dreams. No more tricks.” Your hands press to your temples. “I’m not yours.”

You say it like you need to believe it. Like it’s the only thing keeping you sane.

Baby finally speaks from the shadows. “Then why do you feel safer here than you’ve felt in your entire life?”

His voice is emotionless. Clinical. But something about it makes your skin erupt in chills. You freeze. Because he’s right. And that terrifies you.

Abby sits at the edge of the bed, watching you like a kicked dog. “You must be tired. How about a bath first, hmm?” His voice is too gentle for someone so strong.

You flinch. He notices. And it kills him.

“I should go home—”

“Please, stay,” Mystery pleads. His voice is almost a whimper. You look at him and feel your heartbeat falter. Then Jinu approaches. Deliberate. Measured. The pull in your chest pulses harder.

“We would never hurt you,” he says, voice steady. “Please allow us to explain.”

You glance around. Five sets of eyes. Each one begging for the same thing. Not obedience. Not fear. A chance.

You sigh. “Fine. But I need a bath first.”

They release a breath like they’d been underwater for hours. Romance smiles. “Thank you, baby.”

So there you were, sitting on the edge of a couch that costs more than your rent. Hair damp and in clothes way too big for you. Based on the scent, you hate how you could tell they were Jinu’s. Unbeknown to you, the guys had drawn sticks to decide who’s clothes you would wear after your shower.

Velvet cushions. Mahogany floors. Tall windows draped in gauzy silk that sways with no wind. You don’t know where you are.

But it smells like them. Like rain on stone, smoke, citrus, old paper, and heat.

You’re in their apartment.

And they’re all still here.

Watching.

Waiting.

Like wolves circling their starved mate—but trying to look civilized about it.

Abby comes up from behind you, handing you a glass of water and two painkillers. “For your pretty little head. It must be pounding right now”

You noticed his extra caution and nervousness and it broke your heart a little bit even if it shouldn’t. You take the medicine. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, princess.”

The room is bathed in silence after you take your medicine. Five pairs of eyes staring at you with longing and another emotion you were too afraid to acknowledge. Fondness?

Love?

You shake your head at the thought.

All of them couldn’t believe you were here. In their clothes sitting on their couch in their apartment. It was almost too good to be true. They had to be careful. They couldn’t afford to have you run like last time.

Because they knew they wouldn’t just let you go now. Now that you’re here in their clutches. They’d make you stay.

Romance is the first to speak. “You’ve been dreaming of us.”

It isn’t a guess.

You swallow. Hard. “How do you know that?”

Mystery, curled up on a cushion across from you, answers in a low murmur. “Because we feel it when you do.”

You flinch. “That doesn’t make sense.”

Jinu steps forward slowly, crouching down like he’s afraid you’ll bolt. “The bond is active again.”

You cock your head to the side like a puppy. It was the cutest thing they’d ever seen.

Baby’s fists tighten, resisting the urge to pounce on you.

Jinu speaks. “Your soul remembers. But your mind doesn’t. That’s why you feel sick during the day. Why you sleep like you’ve finally come home.”

He doesn’t touch you—but he gestures to the sketchbook on their coffee table. “You’ve been drawing us, haven’t you?”

You glance down. The sketchbook you didn’t bring with you. The one Mystery must have brought you. The pages are full of lines you don’t remember making. Faces. Threads. A burning palace. A blood moon. And five boys who all look like them.

“These don’t mean anything,” you say quietly. But your voice shakes.

Abby leans against the far wall, arms crossed. “You feel cold during the day. Like you’re not in your own skin.”

You nod slowly. “And you’ve been dizzy. Unsteady. Like something inside you is pulling.”

More nods. “That’s the bond, too.”

Romance sits down across from you, not too close. For once, he looks serious. “You don’t have to believe everything right now. But you feel it. Don’t you?”

“The thread. Between us.”

You try to speak.

Nothing comes out.

You stand up abruptly, putting the coffee table between you and all of them. They all flinch like they’re ready to catch you if you run. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I’m having dreams that don’t feel like mine. I’m drawing with a hand that doesn’t feel like mine. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

Baby’s voice cuts in—calm and sharp. “You’re not losing your mind.”

“You’re remembering what was taken from you.”

You turn to Jinu, eyes wet with frustration. “Then explain it. Really explain it. No more riddles.”

Jinu takes a breath like it hurts to speak the words. The others go quiet. You feel the room shift—heavier. Like the bond itself is listening.

“You died.”

His voice is low. Steady. But grief hums under every syllable. “Four hundred years ago. You died. And it was my fault.”

He doesn’t blink. “I sold my soul to Gwi Ma for fame. I thought I wanted luxury, adoration—immortality. I got it. But then I met you.”

“You were just a girl. Bright. Human. Good. You saw me for what I was—a demon. And you stayed anyway.”

Your eyebrows raised at the mention of demon, but listened on, letting him finish.

“But I was selfish. And you paid the price. When you died, I begged Gwi Ma- the demon king to bring you back. He said no.”

His fists clench on his knees. And you began to think maybe he was crazy. A demon king? Really?

“So I made a deal. If I could bind other demons to your soul—build a tether strong enough to pull you back across lifetimes—he’d let you be reborn.”

He looks at you now. Really looks.

“And I did. I found them. Each one of us—Abby, Romance, Mystery, Baby—we lived lives tied to you. Not all at once. Not always together.”

“In every lifetime, you met one of us. You fell in love. You died. Again and again.”

Your breath catches in your throat and fear grips you. I died? Multiple times? Are they crazy? Every rational thought within you told you to reject this explanation. This Fairytale and yet…

When you looked into each of their eyes they were sincere. Jinu’s eyes holding so much truth so much anguish. Either they were psychos who believed their lies or…

It was all the truth. And that terrified you.

“You’ve lived dozens of lives, and in every one, your soul was trying to return to the pact.”

“Now… we’re all here. Together. Finally.”

“And your soul remembers.”

You sit frozen. The blood drains from your face. Your voice comes out broken: “So… I’m not me.”

Jinu’s expression shatters. He moves toward you slowly—like you’ll flee again. “You are you. You’re this lifetime’s version of her. But you’re more than this moment. You’re all the love, all the pain, all the choices you made to find your way back to us.”

Questions began swimming in your mind. Demons? They were demons? There was a Demon king, this Gwi Ma… it was all so crazy. Too crazy. Maybe too crazy to be a lie… How else would you explain this tether to them, this bond. How you’ve been feeling. The dreams, the sketches, the visions. It lines up with this story.

Mystery whispers from the corner, cutting through your thoughts. “We missed you every time.”

There was a pain in his gaze, and you looked around to see that same pain reflected in everyone’s eyes.

You needed more details. More explanations. Them not being human made sense, that was clear to you. But everything else, just seemed so bizarre to be true. Demons were real? You had been reincarnated? And they had loved you throughout those lifetimes? Their souls were tied to yours?

Well, that last bit had you believing, because at least that last bit you actually felt.

It was all too crazy and you sighed, rubbing your temples. You didn’t want to believe them but somehow you just did. Like it all made sense. And deep down you knew it was the truth.

You let the silence stretch. Something hot stings behind your eyes. “So what now?... You expect me to just—fall in love with you all?”

Baby answers this time. Voice low. Final. “No.”

“We expect you to remember that you already did.”

Your head is pounding. Not in a normal way. It feels like something is unraveling behind your eyes—memories that don’t belong to you pressing against the inside of your skull like water through cracked glass.

You close your eyes. The room spins. You hear a voice. Soft. Familiar.

“Don’t push her,” Jinu murmurs to the others. “She’s at the edge.”

You open your mouth, then close it again. You want to argue. Scream. Say it’s all ridiculous. Say you don’t believe in past lives or demons or fate.

But your heart won’t let you. And neither will the thread quietly tugging behind your ribs. You don’t realize you’ve sunk back onto the couch until Mystery is gently placing a pillow behind your head, his touch featherlight. He doesn’t speak. Just hums something low and wordless as your eyes flutter shut.

Your head still hurts, but less. The weight of everything presses down—and still, for the first time in days, you don’t feel alone.

Romance crouches nearby, hands on his knees, watching you through his lashes. “We’re not asking you to love us today.”

“We’re asking for a chance.”

Abby, his arms crossed, finally uncrosses them. “A chance to take care of you. Like we were supposed to.”

You open your eyes. The ceiling above you glows faintly with soft reflected light. There’s no sound but their breathing. And your own heartbeat.

“Just… a chance?” you whisper.

Jinu kneels beside the couch again. “That’s all.”

“And if I don’t remember?”

He smiles—small. Sad.

“Then we’ll give you a thousand new reasons to love us again.”

You don’t say yes.

But you don’t say no.

You close your eyes.

And this time, when the bond pulses gently at the base of your spine like a heartbeat that doesn’t belong to you…

You let it.

TO BE CONTINUED ───────── ༺🜃༻ ─────────

Author's note: Wahhh I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it! Things are picking up now and the ball is rolling. I sprinkled in a little bit of naughtiness there just to hint on eventual spice down the line... eventually, when it feels right! But let me know if you guys liked this one, reblog, comment, and like if you wish too! <3 Love y'allWilla x.

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Tag list: @faerie-soirxx@strayharmony943@ibby-miyoshi-nerd@anonymousewrites@cottonheadedninnymugggins@apelepikozume @moonlight-rosevine @yepitsmesendhelp @lovely-maryj @nonetheartist @ateezswonderland @sarah22447 @zuhaeri @enerofairy @littlemissfix-itfic @meeeegaaan

#saja boys x reader #saja boys #kpop demon hunters #kpdh x reader #jinu x reader #abby x reader #mystery x reader #romance x reader #baby x reader #yandere #yandere saja boys #kpdh #jinu kpdh #kpdh x you #reverse harem #fic #The Crimson Pact

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all-i-do-is-try1 · 10 months ago

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This might be so crazy and dumb but eating food I’m mildly intolerant to really helps my binging. I’m not advocating it for serious or painful reactions, but the upset stomach really kills my appetite and makes me think twice before overdoing it.

#I feel nauseated but it keeps binges away #and make food unappealing at times #I’m celiac too but I would never do this with gluten bc the reaction is too much #I’m not super lactose intolerant- it just gives me a stomach ache and bloating #when I was ana I craved food I was actually quite reactive too but ate it as long as the reaction wasn’t super bad or dangerous #I’m more mindful of my eating too if I think it could upset my tummy #it’s also food I love that I seem to be intolerant to so go figure #you can build a tolerance too #I used to be so good at listening to my body but lost all hunger fullness signals after being forced to ignore those in treatment #Also look up food intolerance addiction - intense cravings can signify a intolerance #eating those foods triggers the release of endorphins via inflammation #I’m lactose intolerant but love yogurt and it feels safe

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missdynamighttt · 5 months ago

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nsfw katsuki x reader but the reader is quiet (like only deep breaths n pants) How would katsuki react if the suddenly moan?

Been thinking abt this omfg

the first time you let bf! katsuki eat your pussy, he swore he got drunk off the taste of you.

sweet, warm, and intoxicating— you were everything he never knew he was craving. and the way you melted into his arms, only fueled his hunger.

"you taste so fuckin’ good,” katsuki muttered between slurps, diving his lips back into your needy little cunny. "holy shit... i don't wanna stop."

your boyfriend is a nasty fucking pussy eater, that much is obvious. eating you out with all the fire he had, hands gripping your thighs wide, tugging his teeth to suck on your clit, lips never feeling the place he calls heaven.

katsuki was already addicted to the little sounds you made. its painful how hard he gets, his dick twitching in his pants when your breath hitched as his lips met your folds, the soft pants you let out when he darts his tongue out to lick your clit. but still, just deep breaths. just gasps.

it drove him crazy.

he wanted more. needed more.

the second time, it was the same. it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy it. god, you did— but something about holding back made it all the more intense.

your fingers trembled in his hair, tugging slightly. but still, you stayed mostly silent. just breathing, panting. maybe you were nervous. but no matter how much katsuki worked you up, no matter how much his mouth explored your insides, you never gave him more than quiet, shaky breaths.

until now.

the third time, oh, the third time's a fucking charm.

when katsuki's lips dragged down your clit, tongue pressing against the sensitive skin of your folds, you moaned— an actual moan, breathy and desperate, like you couldn’t help yourself. a sound that was so purely you, so completely unrestrained, that it sent fire straight through his veins.

katsuki froze. then, he just snapped.

“that’s it,” he growled, pressing his lips to your pussy again, more insistent, more desperate. his tongue traced over the same spot, his breath hot against your wet cunny as he devoured the sound of you. “fuckin’ finally.”

you barely had a second to process what just happened before his lips were back on your cunny, more eager, more demanding, as if he was chasing that sound like his life depended on it as you moaned his name. “k-katsuki-”

“fuck— do that again,” he rasped, shoving your legs wider to hold you in place, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your pussy again, his mouth making lewd, squelching sounds out of devouring your slick. "can't believe you've been holdin' out on me..."

you squirmed beneath him, hands flying to his hair, tugging lightly. “katsuki— wait, take it easy—”

but katsuki wasn’t listening. he was too caught up, too focused, too obsessed with hearing you again. his grip tightened, his mouth treating you rougher, more demanding.

he was fucking relentless, completely focused on getting another moan out of you. every little gasp, every shaky breath in between just spurred him on more.

you felt like you were burning under his touch, and he? he was thriving in it, lips dragging over every inch of your pussy, searching for every sound you could give him.

“not a fuckin’ chance. not when you sound like that. lemme hear you, baby.”

and when you moaned again, louder, more desperate— he groaned against your senstive skin, his body shuddering with pure satisfaction.

you weren’t holding back anymore. and now that he had a taste of your moans? there was no way in hell he was stopping now.

because no matter how much you tried to keep quiet, katsuki, your boyfriend always got what he wanted.

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

⋆˚࿔ kia's note ˚⋆ lmao i have an exam in 30 mins, hope y'all enjoyed this💜

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iniquitousyearning · 7 months ago

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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS

dec 23rd. tom riddle — wet dreams, house rivals.

RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. I 2024

summary: tom’s been infiltrating your dreams, and you decide it’s time to call him out on it.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNIIII, coercion!!!!, dark!tom, mind manipulation, religious undertones, gryffindor!reader, enemies if you squint, fingering, squirting, begging, dream sex, tom riddle is his own warning, so much praise, dirty talk, verbal sparring.

You've never been a heavy sleeper. Even as a child, the smallest sound—a creak in the floorboards, a shift in the walls—would jolt you awake. For years, you chalked it up to some ingrained survival instinct, some form of trauma response to whatever part of your childhood still haunts you. You got used to it.

But lately, it isn't sound that’s been waking you. It isn't movement or foundation shifts, either. It's the dreams.

Dreams—strange, lucid, intense dreams of him. Always him. Dreams that make you feel like you're drowning, like you're flying, like you've found a new level of intoxication that you'd never imagined possible—and each time the dreams wake you up, the sheets (and whatever bottoms you may have been wearing) are always soaked, and your thighs are always shaking.

It's maddening.

They feel too real to be anything but a violation, his presence bleeding into your subconscious regardless of how much you try to fight it. You know it means something is wrong. You'd tried to rationalize yourself into going back to sleep, telling yourself it's just hormones or some form of stress, but you're too smart to believe your own excuses.

You know it's more than that.

He's haunting you in your sleep—in the most unexpected way. The dreams are always lucid enough that you can feel it—you can feel him—his mouth on yours, his hands on your hips, his dick bullying your fucking cervix and his magic on your clit—leaving behind nothing but hunger. Hunger that's so intense it makes you want him in a way it almost scares you.

You tell yourself you hate him, you've always hated him—but denial only lasts for so many days, as you realize you can't look at him or talk to him without the dreams forcing their way to the forefront of your mind, making you remember the feelings and the sensations and how much, despite hating him, you want them to be real.

You wanted to believe it would pass. That this was nothing but a phase, a trick of your overactive mind. But deep down, you knew the truth. Tom Riddle has wormed his way into your head, into your dreams—out of spite—and he's not letting go.

So after a hell of a week of this—with damn near zero hours of sleep—you decide to seek him out. To put an end to this madness. Once and for all.

It takes every ounce of courage and Gryffindor-like reckless bravery you can scrape together just to go through with it, but somehow you do. Somehow, you make it across the castle, make it to his door. You're in your pyjamas, for Merlin's sake. It's 1 a.m., and the slick still coating your thighs from what had to have been your tenth lucid orgasm in a matter of a week is a humiliating reminder of why you're even here at all.

And when the door opens, you have the strange feeling that he's been expecting you, even as he makes a great show of acting surprised to see you, looking you up and down with a lazy, smug glance that makes your pulse quicken so viscerally you lose the last shred of sanity you were pathetically clinging to—

"What the fuck—" you prowl forward without hesitation, forcing him a step back into the room. "—are you doing to me?"

Even if you're not imagining some form of surprise in that smug little smirk, he does his best not to let it show.

"Me?" He says, all pretend innocence, flicking his hand out to shut the door behind you with some spell you don't care to name. "You'll have to be more specific."

You glare at him, refusing to acknowledge how unfairly attractive he looks in just sweatpants and an oversized shirt—because of course, even casual looks like this are a weapon in his arsenal.

"Cut the bullshit, Riddle," you snap, and you're not sure if it's your lack of sleep or some form of desperation-fuelled bravery, but you're suddenly invading his personal space, poking an accusing finger into his shoulder. "You're fucking haunting me—"

He blinks. "I’m haunting you. And how am I doing that?”

There's a part of you that knows it's a trap—that this is probably exactly what the smug bastard in front of you has been wanting, but your brain is so deprived of sleep and your body is so starved of respite that you decide 'fuck it'—you want answers, and you're going to get them.

"You're in my dreams," you say, bluntly, forcing an exhale alongside it. "You've been in them every night for a week straight. I haven't slept a bloody minute."

That's when it happens—the tiniest flash of amusement in his eyes, so brief you might've missed it if you weren't ready to tear his fucking throat out.

"You're accusing me of giving you dreams?" He asks, in a tone that makes you want to grab him by the front of his shirt and make him cut the bullshit, and you can't tell how much of your own expression is irritation and how much is lust. "You think I've somehow managed to invade your mind?"

"Don't be condescending," you spit, trying to focus on the spot between his eyebrows that makes the heat in your core roar the least, "and don't act like you're incapable. As much as I can't bloody stand you, we both know damn well your mind magic is strong enough to do this to me—"

"Mind magic," he echoes with an amused snort, "you think I'm doing some kind of mind magic to invade your dreams, is that it?"

He's so damn good at this, you think—infuriatingly good. The way he's playing it off like the idea is absurd, completely laughable—

"Fucking precisely.” You can't hide the heat from your voice. You don't care to try. "These aren't just dreams. They're—they're strong. I feel you. Your hands, your tongue, your—"

Dick. You can't even bring yourself to say it.

And the bastard just smirks, like he's reading your mind anyway. Like he knows. That glimmer in his eyes—arrogant, insufferable—only confirms it.

"Hm," he says with something bored, running a hand through his hair. "Your subconscious—"

"It's not a bloody subconscious thing," you cut him off, uninterested in whatever bullshit he was about to feed you. "It's you. You're invading my dreams—I feel you—my body fucking feels you—"

He laughs at that. Like some sick, sadistic freak. He actually laughs—

"Listen to yourself." He says, with a mocking tone that makes you want to shove him. "Are you that desperate to hate me that you're pinning your dreams on me?"

"Hate doesn't even begin to cover it," you spit, stepping closer, your frustration boiling over. He shifts slightly, his back brushing the wall. "You've got a hell of an ego, but even you have to know this isn't something I'd want. I wouldn't put you in my dreams willingly if you paid me to do it—"

He hums, smirk never faltering, if anything it fucking grows at the tirade.

"You've been dreaming of me for a week," he points out, coolly, as if this is the most casual conversation in the world. "And now, here you are—standing in my dorm in the middle of the night, dressed like this." He takes a step toward you, now. "Do you know what that's called, sweetheart?"

Your lungs hitch at the pet name. Your mind is at war with your cunt and it's losing—

"Delirium?" You choke out, noticing another flash of something in his eyes as the gap between you closes. "Insomnia? Sleep deprivation?"

He gives you a mocking arch of the eyebrow.

"No," he says, in a tone that makes you seethe. "It's called obsession."

"Oh. The irony," you can't help but hiss at him, heart pounding because he's in your space and you're in his and this shouldn't be getting to you the way it is. "It's rich, coming from you, that you'd put that on me when—when you've been mindfucking me every goddamn night—"

"Mindfucking you?" He repeats, almost lazily, as his gaze drops, sweeping over you—your pyjamas, the clear lack of bra, the flush creeping up your neck. "Is that what you think I've been doing? You think—"

The way he doesn't even deny it—doesn't argue the accusation—makes your blood boil in a way you can't control.

"It's the only explanation. You've been—you've been—" you cut him off but your sentence falters because his gaze is moving so deliberately, dragging over you like he's cataloging your weaknesses, and the anger curdles into something raw and desperate. "God, Tom, I just need it to stop. I'm so fucking tense and tired. I'm so wound I can't even focus—I'm wet all the time—"

His eyes snap up to meet yours at that, and he gives you a look you can't even begin to interpret. You bite your tongue, realizing the words that left your mouth just a moment too late to pull them back, and you know you've lost the upper hand in this, somehow. You feel the ground slipping from under you and you hate the way your body shivers as he takes another slow, deliberate, step forward.

"Is that what you are?” He wets his lips. "You've come all the way here, in the dead of night, in your pyjamas, half out of your mind with exhaustion because you're wet. Isn't that right?"

You know better than to answer, though you feel yourself walking straight into the trap he's set.

"Piss off," you snap, but the bravado in your voice is paper-thin as he takes another step forward. He's so close now that his scent overwhelms you—leather and spice, something sharp and smoky that makes your head spin. You recognize it, of course you do; it's the same as in your dreams, and the familiarity makes your knees feel unsteady. "You're—"

"Don't act so offended," he leans closer, his voice a low murmur, quiet, almost silky as it wraps around you, and suddenly you barely remember what you were so pissed off about. "You can't even deny it. I made you cum tonight, didn't I? In your dreams."

Your teeth grit. "You know you did—"

He takes one more step and now you're backed right up against his desk—and gods, Tom's tall, so much taller than you—and it feels like he's looming over you, caging you in.

"Mhm." There's a flash of triumph in his eyes as you lose your words. He leans down, breath grazing your ear just as he brings two fingers to your temple, pressing the pads against it. "Let's watch, shall we?"

Watc—oh no.

A cold sense of dread washes over you as you catch on to what he's insinuating, merely a second too late—

"Tom—"

He whispers something, something that pulls you under, and the next thing you know—in a flash of consciousness you didn't even consider possible—you're staring at yourself inside a dream you remember all too well. A dream sequence where you're moaning and trembling beneath him, your head thrown back, eyes rolling in unabashed pleasure as he drives into you, hips snapping with thrust after thrust after thrust—

And it's one thing to have felt it in the safety of your dreams, in the dead of night when you woke slick and desperate, clenching around nothing. But this—this is visceral. You can't look away because it's projecting inside your mind: the flush blooming across your chest, the arch of your back, the way your lips part with every desperate breath. You hear the obscene sounds spilling from your mouth, mingling with his low, guttural grunts—and worst of all, you can feel it.

You can feel every ounce of pleasure he's giving you, as if he's giving it to you now.

"Mm," you hear him hum from infront of you—it's too much—you're lost in the memory, the dream, and it's a strange, voyeuristic, intimate experience to watch yourself and him like that. "You're worse off than I thought."

You’re gripping the wood of his desk so hard your fingertips are numb, heart flying out of the room as his hand slowly slides from your temple down to your jaw, holding you in place—

"Stop it." You manage to hiss at him, trying to force some semblance of control back into yourself—the last thing you need is to start melting against this bastard. "Tom—"

"You feel that?" He murmurs, breath brushing your neck, and you can't even focus on anything but the sensations he's forcing through your memory—seeing him above you, feeling him inside you. "You do, don't you? This is exactly what you've been feeling all week, isn't it?"

You want to snap at him, cuss him out, but oh god—

"Damn you," you hiss, even as his hands slide down to your hips—and it almost feels as if he's touching you twice, as if there are two sets of hands on your body. "Fuck, Tom—"

"Mm, you look good from this angle," he murmurs, and you fucking keen as you watch, in your mind, his hands slide over your stomach, pushing up your shirt and exposing your tits, groping as he fucks you. You keen as you feel it. "You love this, don't you? You want this."

"I—" you gasp, trying to convince him, or yourself, or goddamn anyone. Still fighting some invisible battle between resistance and submission because you hate that he's right. "I—god, what are you doing to me—"

"What am I doing to you?" He whispers, and you're not sure if the question is rhetorical, or if he's giving you permission to ask it. "I'm not doing anything that you aren't letting me do."

Your knees feel like they're about to buckle, and it's taking all your strength just to stay standing because the pleasure playing out in your mind is pouring into your veins and you can't even fathom how it's possible but you can't do anything to fight it—

"Oh, god—" you moan, unbridled, your physical body slumping back onto the desk as you feel the slick between your thighs, growing with every goddamn thrust. "Oh my god—"

He takes the opportunity of you slumped back against the desk and instantly leans down, bringing his lips to your ear—

"Not even god could keep your legs underneath you." His hand creeps up your thigh. "You're helpless."

"Helpless," you repeat, with a shaky gasp, and you hate how much the word turns you on. This is the first time you've ever been called helpless, and you're not even sure that you care. He's got you in his clutches, he's winning, and it's so infuriating and so goddamn perfect. “Tom—please, please touch me. I need to—fuck—"

You feel his lips brush the skin of your neck in a way that has you trembling with want, but—fucking hell, that's not what you need—you need his hands on you, you need him to just—

"What do you need?" He cooes, and there's a sly tone to his voice that makes you want to throw yourself at him all over again. "You need to cum?"

You moan, low and needy, writhing against the desk because this fucker—he knows exactly what he's doing. He’s got the upper hand here and you want it back. You want—

"Yes," you manage to gasp out. "I need you to—I fucking need you—inside me—"

As soon as that leaves your mouth, the dream fades from your vision and he's urging you to lay back. There's a soft thud as he places a hand on the desk next to your head, and he leans down, bringing his lips back to your ear, and you can't remember a time when you've ever wanted anyone else this bad.

"I'm touched," he murmurs, fingers slipping to the waist band of your pyjama pants, "that you want me that bad."

"I hate you," you manage to gasp out, but that's a lie, and you think he knows it. His fingers on your skin as he pulls your pants down make you ache for him, and you're struggling to not make another sound that will give him ammunition. "Why do you have to—"

"Why do I have to what?" He asks, and you know he's just trying to get a reaction out of you. "Tease you? Make you helpless?"

Your pants get hardly half way down your thighs before he decides it's enough and slides a finger through your soaked slit, and you can't hold back the moan that tears itself from your throat.

"Fuck, you're soaked.” He hisses through his teeth. “You've been sitting in your dorm for days, hm? Dreaming of me touching you, wishing you could touch yourself without thinking of me—do you want to cum, sweetheart?"

"Yes," you gasp out, and you're not above begging at this point. "Yes, god, please—I want to fucking cum—"

"There we go," he cooes, and he's enjoying this more than you'd like to acknowledge. "You know how long I've been waiting to hear you say that?"

"I'd say at least a week," you throw back, in a vain attempt to keep a shred of your dignity, but that's hard when he's circling his fingers around your clit and your body is jerking against the desk beneath you. God you really are helpless. "Because that's how long you've been plaguing my head, giving me wet dreams like some goddamn incubus—"

He chuckles at that, and you hate him a little less when he slips two fingers inside you, "You think I'm a demon?"

"You certainly act like one," you choke out, because he's crooking his fingers and your mind is going fuzzy and he's not going to let you get the upper hand back, even for a second. "Fuck—oh, yes, yes, yes."

"You've got me all wrong," he says, with a smile that would be boyish if it wasn't so sinister. "Demons come to punish you. I'm here helping you get that relief you've been needing so badly."

"Just want t-to help me," you moan as his long fingers work you open, thumb brushing your clit, "out of the kindness of your heart—"

"Out of the kindness of my heart,” he repeats, with a mocking tone, and it's the way he murmurs those words that's making your thighs clench around him until he grabs the fabric of your pjs bunched around them and pushes your legs up to your chest, working his fingers impossibly deeper. "Out of the goodness of my soul—it's what I do, darling, I'm known for my benevolence—"

"You're a good man," you know he can tell you're being sarcastic, but his fingers are filling you so fucking full you're nowhere near ready to start a fight again when you're this close to losing your goddamn mind on his desk. "You're such a good man, Tom—“

"Mhm," his breath tickles your ear. "What else am I?"

"So good with your fingers," you're moaning, and he's going to get a bigger ego than he already has. You're too far gone to care. "God, you're so good, I'm going to—"

"Yes, you are," he answers, and it takes you a second to realize that he's not correcting your words anymore. He's simply telling you that you are, in fact, about to fall apart for him. "Give it to me. You've earned it."

You almost want to snap back at him, you almost try to, but you're so far gone the words don't form on your tongue and you're not sure you'd be able to fight the fire pooling in your stomach.

"Oh, fuck—“

He doesn't even let you finish that, he just dips his hips down, bringing his hand that's not buried in your slick up to cover your mouth, muffling those strangled screams before they spill out and echo down the hall—

"That's it," he murmurs, his voice a low hum against your skin. "Be a good girl. Let it all out for me."

And it's that; that stupid combination of cooing warmth and the phrase 'be a good girl' that sends you over the edge, and you're muffling your gasps and moans and screams against his palm because gods, what would happen if someone heard you? What would happen if people realized what Tom Riddle was doing to you—your house rival, your sworn enemy—

"There we go," you're falling apart and he's watching you as if he owns you, as if this is where you belong—writhing beneath him, release squirting out around his fingers. "Ride it out for me. Such a good girl, you needed this so bad, I can tell you were aching for this."

You're struggling to say anything back, the only thing that comes out is a strangled moan of his name, and you've always known how bad he was, heard from other girls how good he could be with his hands, but this—you've never had this, never been this before.

"Such a fucking mess," he's murmuring, his voice low and rough and so goddamn beautiful. “How'd that feel? Hm?"

"So—so good," it feels like the words are being forced out of your throat, and you're struggling to think with enough clarity to form anything that's not an embarrassing moan of how much you needed this. "Needed it, need more, I—"

"More?" He murmurs as he slips his fingers free, and he's bringing his other hand up to your jaw, forcing you to look at him as he brings his soaked fingers to your lips. "Greedy girl."

You're not thinking about the implication of him calling you that, you're not thinking about how you should fight back, you're not thinking about how much you hate him—you’re just thinking about the sinful taste of you on his fingers, when they press against your tongue. Without a second of hesitation you suck them clean, tasting yourself, and it's obscene. You're obscene. But you don't care, it just makes that ache in you grow worse—you need more, you need him.

Dear god, what happened to you.

“So good," he murmurs, the praise dripping like honey from his tongue. You hum and he exhales. "I'll find you tomorrow."

"You'll find me tomorrow?" You repeat, as he withdraws his fingers from your mouth, and you're struggling for air, your chest heaving beneath your rumpled shirt. "What are you going to do, come into my room?"

"I'll come into much more than your room," he says, with a laugh that dances with promises of sin. "Now go. Before someone finds you here."

You push yourself up on trembling arms, pulling your pants up your thighs, your heart hammering in your chest because—god, that was incredible, you want more of it, and you can hardly even believe it happened. With a breath, you force yourself to move.

You look back at him as you get to the door. Your legs are shaking and you're not going to hold it against yourself for needing the wall to support you as his eyes rake over you, the corners of those lips curled up his signature smirk, and you want to hit him so goddamn bad—but then he speaks, like he read your mind, and it snaps you out of it—

"No dreams tonight." He says. "Scouts honour."

"You're no boy scout," you throw back, and your voice is a little breathier than you'd like. "And this changes nothing."

He smiles, slow and languid and knowing. "Of course."

You want to roll your eyes at the condescension dripping off his tongue, but you're worried that if you stay here any longer the only words on your tongue will be 'do it again'.

"You just owe me." You say as you crack the door open.

"I owe you," he agrees, and you think that his smile is just a little too genuine—like he would give you anything you wanted, just for another taste of that. “I'm keeping score, darling. Sleep well."

You hate him for calling you that, you hate his stupid smile, you hate the way he knows he's got you.

What he doesn’t know, is that you’re going to make him pay.

"Good night," you mutter, and then you open the door and slip out into the hallway.

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madeforgyu · 24 days ago

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shake it off. (18+ only, mdni.)

summary. sometimes, good things come from bad ideas.

pairing. (idol!)mingyu x f!reader

word count. 2426

cw. daddy kink / mild ddlg (mg refers to himself as dad 2x), cum play and cum eating and just... so much cum... (reader is cum obsessed i'm sorry), degradation if you squint, cnc and false sympathy, pet names (he calls reader princess a lot, size kink also if you squint, throatfucking (reader fucking loves cock in mouf. reader is me.), allusions to being in subspace but i didn't wanna say it explicitly bc it felt too on-the-nose, lots of buildup (sorry)

i am not responsible for the content you consume. proceed with caution.

author's note. uhhh belated happy father's day he is still my dad and i still wanna suck his dick (also heyyyy haha heyyy guys.....pls dont kill me for being gone.......)

this was a bad idea. this was a very bad idea from the very start, and mingyu knew it.

he had some work to be done with bumzu today. he knew he had to be locked in, focused 101% on his work, but the past few days without you had been hellish. between busy schedules and video calls that just wouldn’t cut it, he knew needed to see you, hold you, hear your voice.

so, against his better judgement, he insisted on having you over at his studio.

“…oppa, are you sure?” you had asked him when he called you up to tell you to come over.

“baby, please?” he pleaded, and you could hear the pout in his voice. he’d rambled something about missing you more than anything, about not seeing you felt like eternal damnation (entirely an exaggeration), and that it was now or never again (realistically, just few months give or take, but mingyu is dramatic).

“i’ll pay for your ride— or i’ll ask someone to pick you up. or i’ll go pick you up myself right now,” he rattled on in one breath, “just— please? i miss you.”

and against your better judgment as well, you agreed and you were out of your apartment in no more than ten minutes.

it was fine at first.

as you walked into mingyu’s studio, you were immediately greeted by this six-foot-something man’s buff arms wrapping around your body, lifting you up and hugging you tight, before you could even drop your bag.

“my baby,” mingyu cooed into your neck possessively with a yearning so intense you’d think it’s been years since he last saw you, “my angel. my princess. missed you so fucking much.”

and you smiled and nuzzled into his neck, “my big baby. missed you too.”

after a soft makeout laced with heavy pining by the door, he kissed your forehead and let you settle onto the couch as he sat back on his chair to finish writing his lyrics as some music played softly in the background.

he got bored quickly. and you watched with fondness as he played with instagram filters to pass time while waiting.

then his song came on.

he turned on his camera, and as he started dancing in his chair, vibing to every beat of his song, your eyes darkened with hunger and heat pooled in the pit of your stomach. the minute he stopped recording, you found yourself rising from the couch and crawling to fill the space between his knees.

“oh?” mingyu tips his head down to peer at you past his shades before taking off the pair and setting it aside. you bite back the smile creeping onto your lips and rest your cheek against his thigh.

“hi,” you whisper, a little too innocently for the fact that you’re on your knees between his thighs. instinctually, mingyu’s hand combs through your hair, scratching slightly at the base of your neck as he smiles down at you. you hum, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling.

“hi, princess. what’re you doing, hm?”

“y’so handsome,” you mumble, words slurring into each other. “wan’ you.”

mingyu can tell that your headspace is already starting to slip.

despite all the time he’s been with you, he still can’t believe how strong of an effect you have on each other. he can already feel himself hardening in his jeans, and judging by the haze behind your eyes, he knows you’re craving to have his cock shoved down your throat.

your gaze drops to his growing bulge and your shy hands come up to fiddle with the button.

“can i…?” you ask him quietly, looking up at him with those doe eyes he can never seem to resist.

with a smile, he rises to his feet and takes the initiative to pop open the button himself. he frees himself of his jeans and briefs in one go, fabric pooling by his ankles and belt landing onto the ground with a soft clink!

he grasps himself by the base and pumps, slowly but firmly, getting himself fully hard as he sits back down. your eyes never leave him, transfixed. just about hypnotized. you don’t even notice yourself lick and bite your lip, or that your eyes are now half hooded as you watche him.

mingyu smiles, proud. “cockdrunk already, love? i haven’t even given you my cock yet.”

and you just whine at his teasing. you settle between his legs again, cheek pressing against his now bare thigh. “gimme,” you pout with an impatient huff. “please?”

his fingers thread through your hair and he tugs. you let him. with the grip in your hair, he pulls your head closer to his thick cock and your jaw drops open automatically, sticking your tongue out as if to reach for him. then when the tip taps against your wet tongue, you latch onto him, lips snug around the head, tongue perfectly wrapped around it.

you moan in pleasure. in happiness. in utter bliss. like latched onto his cock is where you’re meant to be. (you’re convinced that it is.)

“how d’you want daddy, hm?” he asks through heavier and heavier breaths as he slowly but surely pushes your head down onto him until your nose is pressing into his skin.

he knows you can’t answer with a mouthful of cock so he continues. “jus’ wanna play?”

you nod, as much as you can with a mouthful of cock. mingyu lets go of the grip in your hair and scratches at your scalp again in affection, warm, tender smile splayed on his lips.

on his go ahead, princess, you slowly start to bob your head up and down, steadily fucking your throat onto his cock. you try to savor the feeling of his fat cock sliding in and out of your throat, but you can’t help but gag a few times too many.

the sound is music to mingyu’s ears though, only making him harder with each wet, creamy sound as your throat constricts around him. spit pools around your lips, gathering around the base of his cock and dripping down his balls.

then you lift yourself up and off his cock to take a breath. your hand wraps around the base and you start pumping firmly. then your lips wrap around the head again. you swirl your tongue around the tip and lap against the slit, drinking up every drop of pre-cum that leaks out.

every movement, every stroke of your tongue makes mingyu’s groans grow louder. it’s taking everything in him to keep himself from forcing his cock down your throat and using you as a toy. all you want is to play with daddy’s cock, and what his baby wants, you always get.

you kiss and lick and suck on just the tip, while your hand stays busy pumping the length of him. your other hand comes up to massage his balls and it’s in that moment that mingyu thinks he’s about to lose his mind.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, baby—” his deep groans morph into high, begging whines that shoot heat straight to your core. at this point, you want nothing more than to have him cum on your tongue, to savor the bitter taste of his seed that you’re convinced you’re almost addicted to.

you let go of the tip only to kiss down his length until you reach his heavy, dare he say neglected balls. without thinking twice, you lap at his balls. your gaze is fixed onto him, watching his expression through dewy eyes. the way his brows furrow, the way his chest rises and falls as he keeps himself from cumming too soon, the way his jaw drops open and the yummiest sounds spill from his parted lips.

when you suck one of his balls into your mouth, he decides he can’t take it anymore. his hand laces through your hair again and he pulls you off of him as he rises to his feet. you stumble back, mingyu’s grip being the only thing holding you up.

“m’sorry, baby,” he apologizes, but not in any actual guilt. it’s that patronizing, faux-concerned tone only leaves you wanting him more.

you smile and giggle as he handles you roughly into position: on the floor with your legs in a W, sitting snugly between his thighs.

he pushes himself into your mouth again in one swift move and breaks past the back of your throat, not giving you even a single moment of respite. you gag against him but he keeps pushing anyway until he’s buried completely. his grip loosens only to cradle the back of your head to keep you in place as he starts to rock his hips into your hot mouth.

“i’m sorry, baby, i know,” he coos again in false sympathy as if trying to soothe your struggle, hips rutting into your mouth.

bubbles of spit form on the corners of your lips. you gag again, the sound wet and miserable and delicious all the same. “m’sorry. daddy’s sorry. jus’ need you so bad”

you whimper. in strife. in desire. in need. mingyu’s thrusts turn brutal but you love it— live for it. you choke around his cock. you can barely breathe. your vision is blurred with tears from all the gagging, cheeks and chin stained with a mixture of spit and tears. but you know there’s no where else you’d rather be.

when his hips start stuttering, you know he’s close. you lock gazes, and in an instant, mingyu understands what his baby wants— no, needs.

“want dad’s cum? hm, princess?” he asks through shallow breaths and heavy moans.

you moan and look at him as pleadingly as you can to signal your desire. the grin on his lips is lopsided and proud because he knows he did this to you. because only he can do this to you.

he pulls you off him just a little bit, keeping the tip in your mouth. then with his other hand gripping firmly around the base of his cock, he spills into your mouth, warm ropes of thick, white cum vandalizing your tongue.

he doesn’t let you swallow yet. the hand in your hair moves to grip your chin as his still-hard cock slips out of your mouth.

“show me,” he says and pushes his fingers into your cheeks and between your teeth get you to open your mouth. your tongue curls at the edges slightly as you show him, being careful not to spill.

he leans forward, then drips a thick wad of spit into the pool of cum in your mouth. you can only moan in need, pussy clenching and thighs pressing together. mingyu dips his thumb into the puddle and mixes his spit and cum together, still smirking down at you. he taps the pad of his digit against your tongue to watch the way the disgusting mix stretches and splashes in your mouth. you want to swallow all of it down so bad and he knows it.

but he isn’t done with you yet.

so he lets go of your chin and slips into your mouth again, using the cum and spit as lubrication as he fucks your tight, warm throat all over again, just as ruthlessly as earlier, if not more.

the spit and cum spill from your mouth and drip down your chin with every deep thrust, and you cry. not because it hurts— god, no. but because you feel like you’re wasting all of his precious seed. you want to swallow his cum so badly, to feel that warmth fill your mouth and bloom in your throat.

the grip in your hair returns shortly. without warning, mingyu thrusts into your hot mouth just as he slams your head onto his cock. your nose presses into into his pubic bone, balls warm against your chin, and then—

“fuck—” he whimpers with a cry of your name. “cumming— dad’s cumming. m’cumming.”

you finally feel that blooming warmth of his cum shooting down your throat, load after load, just like you wanted.

he stills, spilling seemingly endlessly into your mouth and down your throat but you’re not complaining. he cums so hard and so much that it overflows from the corners of your lips and spills out of your little mouth despite your best efforts to swallow every load. he keeps himself buried snugly in your throat until he’s spent and his balls are empty.

when he pulls out of your mouth, his cock is limp and soft. your mouth and chin are soaked and stained by his cum, but still, you look up at him with stars in your eyes, lovestruck and dumb, as if he wasn’t just balls-deep in your mouth.

he chuckles at the sight, heart warm with tender love and adoration despite it all. you’re a little wobbly as he helps you onto your feet before falling back down onto his chair, strong hands pulling you along and you land on his lap. (he’ll have to wipe this chair clean in a little while — thank god it’s leather.)

“happy baby?” he asks with a fucked out, dazed smile. you nod and lick your lips to lap up what you can.

“mhm. yummy,” you say in that innocent tone again with a nod.

mingyu can’t help but giggle at you. he cups your cheek gently then scoops up some of the cum dripping down your chin with his thumb. he pushes the digit into your mouth and you happily suck it clean.

“let’s get cleaned up, yeah?” he says. you both rise from the seat and he kisses your forehead affectionately.

he wipes himself clean with some baby wipes first, then tucks himself back into his briefs and zips his jeans back up. then it’s your turn and he carefully wipes your face clean, all while showering you in praises. pretty girl. did so good. my beautiful, beautiful princess. i love you.

the air purifier is switched on, the chair wiped down with a disinfecting wipe, and the air is sprayed with a little fresh linen room spray from his favourite brand.

he helps you drink some water and dresses you in the oversized hoodie he had worn on the way. you two cuddle on the couch in comfortable silence, your head slotted in the curve of his neck. his hands caress your side while you trace patterns on his chest. your heartbeats and breaths sync, and soon enough, you’re out like a light in the comfort of his arms.

#ami: writes #mingyu x reader #mingyu smut #this is like. the watered down version....... it was so much worse #once again very self indulgent #svt smut #seventeen smut

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vyxenisl0st · 1 month ago

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Hot, confident girl + weird, shy guy is already gold. But hot, confident girl + weird, shy guy with a deceptively high libido and a dick that leaves her speechless?

18+, minors dni

—————

That’s how Bob had you now.

You never would’ve guessed how insatiable he could be. But here you were, legs trembling, moans spilling out as half-formed words, eyes glazed over with tears, drool glistening at the corner of your mouth. And Bob? He wasn’t stopping anytime soon.

He wasn’t dominant—not in the usual sense. He was a mess himself. His forehead was pressed into the crook of your neck, breath hot against your skin as he murmured breathless apologies and praise between every thrust.

“I’m sorry— you feel so good— I can’t stop— so perfect—”

There was no rhythm. No control. Just a desperate, stuttering need that left you unraveling under him. It was chaotic. Intense. Overwhelming. And it felt unbearably good.

Oh, you thought he was done?

Sure, he was already spent, hips twitching through the last few weak thrusts, breath ragged as he collapsed against you. But even when he was shooting nothing, his body still moved like it didn’t know how to stop. And neither did he.

Because Bob couldn’t leave you like this — ruined, dripping, overstimulated and dazed. What kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t take care of you properly?

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, already moving down your body, hands trembling as they caressed your thighs. “You were so good… I didn’t mean to make a mess. Let me clean you up. Please…”

The moment his mouth touched you, he let out the softest moan, like he’d been waiting for this all night. His tongue was desperate, frantic, slurping and licking with no rhythm, just raw hunger. He wasn’t trying to be sexy. He was trying to make it right.

“You taste so good,” he whimpered into you. “You’re so perfect. I don’t deserve you. God, I love you—”

It was messy. Loud. Filthy. His mouth moved like he was starving, like worshipping you was the only thing keeping him grounded. Every time you twitched or cried out, he whimpered in response, overwhelmed by how good you still tasted, how soft you were, how you let him do this.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry… but I need you to feel good again. Let me do this. Just one more… I promise—”

But you both knew he wouldn’t stop at just one more.

#bob reynolds #bob thunderbolts #bob x reader #robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds smut #marvel mcu #mcu fandom #thunderbolts #lewis pullman #lewis pullman x reader #sentry #sentry x reader #the void #the void x reader

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delilahsturniolo · 1 month ago

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⊹ ࣪ ˖ ୨ৎ bsf!chris giving you head for the first time (fingering, kissing, oral — fem!receiving, dirty talk, praise, use of pet names.)

you can't believe what you've just agreed to. your best friend, the one guy who's been there for you through thick and thin, is now kneeling between your legs, looking at you with a hunger that makes your heart race. but there's also a tenderness in his gaze that reassures you, that reminds you this is chris, your chris, who would never hurt you. it all started wiyh a simple conversation about both of your guys’s experiences, and you confessed to chris that you had never received head in your life. let’s just say…he insisted on changing that.

"just relax," he murmurs, his fingers gently parting your folds to expose you to his gaze. "i've got you." you take a deep breath, feeling a little self-conscious about your vulnerability. but the look on his face, all focused desire and affection, it helps to calm your nerves. you trust him, you always have. and when his tongue flicks out to trace a path along your inner thigh, you can't help the moan that escapes your lips. "fuck, chris," you breathe, watching him as he moves closer to your center. "this is...oh my gosh."

"shh," he soothes, "just focus on the feeling." and then his mouth is on you, his lips pressing against your slick folds in a gentle kiss. the sensation is overwhelming, and you can't help but squirm under his touch. his hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he begins to explore your body with his mouth. his tongue laps at your folds, teasing and tasting with a gentle hunger that has your toes curling.

"that's it," he murmurs, "let me take care of you." his voice is low and husky, and it sends a thrill of desire through you. you can't believe this is happening, that your best friend is making you feel this good. his fingers slide into you, curling to hit that spot inside you that has your back arching off the bed. "chris," you gasp, "right there."

"tell me what you want," he encourages, his voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "let me know what feels good." you swallow hard, feeling a flush creep over your face. but the desire to have him know, to have him understand just how amazing he makes you feel, overshadows your embarrassment.

"i...i want you to keep doing that," you confess, watching him as he continues to work his magic. "it...it's so fucking good." his chuckle vibrates against you, and you can't help but moan again. "oh yeah? you like that huh?” he says, "let me make it better." you nod, a little dazed from the pleasure that's coiling within you. "please," you gasp.

his gaze meets yours for a moment, filled with a smoldering intensity that takes your breath away. and then he dives back in, his tongue working relentlessly against you, drawing out long, deep moans from your throat.

"that's it," he praises, "let me hear you baby.” his fingers pump into you with a rhythm that matches the movement of his tongue against your soaked pussy, and you can't help but move against him, seeking more of that delicious friction.

the pleasure crests and breaks over you, sending waves of ecstasy crashing through your body as you cum on his face. you arch into his mouth, your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him on as he laps up every drop of your release.

as the aftershocks ripple through you, you look down at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "chris," you whisper, your voice shaking with emotion, "that was...thank you.” he smiles against your thigh, a soft, content smile that makes your heart flutter. "anytime, ma.” he says, "anytime."

you pull him up for a kiss, wanting to taste yourself on his lips. it's sweet and dirty at the same time, and you can't help but moan into his mouth as his tongue explores yours. his hands roam over your body, caressing every inch of you as he kisses you deeply. and as your bodies move together in a dance as old as time, you realize that maybe this is where you're meant to be, in chris's arms, lost in the pleasure he gives you so willingly.

💌: woahh, delilah actually writing about chris for once??? rare occurence!!

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blood-smiles · 1 month ago

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𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐊𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 ! 𝐂𝐎𝐖 𝐇𝐘𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐃 𝐗 𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 — tw: nsfw (?) . MDNI . male lactation

You tried to kick and fight against Briar, but all your feeble efforts were blocked by his disgustingly strong limbs, it pissed you off so bad you could rip that stupid tag off his ear.

Now here you were, sat on his lap like a grumpy kitten. You didn’t want this, you swore to yourself that this would never, EVER happen again.

You didn’t mean to make the great mistake of saying that you were thirsty, you were out of cartons but still wanted milk— normal milk. Not milk that your strange genetically flawed cow made! you didn’t want anything anymore!!!

Your fists tried to pound against his chest, but the man laughed like you were petting him. He was not affected by your five grams of ‘strength’ and you were deeply wounded by that.

“Briar. If you don’t let me go I will cut off your grain supply for the month—“ You were shut up by a large tit forced in your mouth and an enormous hand landing on your head.

“You’re hangry~ I can tell.. Just let me quench your hunger..” Briar cooed in your ear like a loving mother, his fingers massaging your scalp in a way that almost made you melt in his arms like chocolate left to sit out on a hot day.

No! You had to persevere! You weren’t going down like this! You refuse to let yourself be treated like—like a baby— Because you were a full grown adult and you didn’t need anyone mothering you!

“mmMMGH—“ you choked on his nipple, lukewarm milk landing on your tongue in a thick coat.

“Shhh.. Just let mama feed you.” Briar stifled a sigh as he bounced you on his lap gently, making sure to hold you properly so you couldn’t escape.

Your hands clawed at his skin, but the damn cow didn’t even seem fazed or remotely bothered by your nails. He really thought it was you imprinting on him, you know.. Like branding him as your mommy!

His milk was sweet and silky, smooth on your tongue and easy to digest. You almost choked on his milk, you were basically forced to swallow down the liquid.

This was unnatural—He was squirting too much! Your cheeks began to puff up with warm milk, your throat could barely keep up with the sheer volume and frequency at which the lactose content from his chest was coming at.

His savory essence began dribbling down your chin, the liquid going to waste as it went down your neck and pooled in the dip of your collarbone.

Briar held you tighter, suffocating you in pectoral, his other neglected breast kept leaking white, your ears barely catching the soft ‘drip drip’ of his milk splashing on the floor.

Too much—This was too much. You closed your eyes, tears beginning to bubble on your lash line out of pure despair.

Briar felt intense relief and pleasure, your mouth wrapped around his sensitive bud was a privilege greater than any. His whole body shuddered with joy as he kept you in place, his vision was fogged and lidded, he wanted to be milked dry.

He felt that his right chest had been relieved of most of its added weight, but that didn’t mean he was done though. His left chest had yet to feel the toe curling ecstasy from the soft suckles of your mouth— He needed you, now.

You looked tired, your hand gripped his chest tightly, wringing out the last of substances out his right breast.

“B..Briar, I’m going to… ha.. ban you from my bed—“ yet again he stuffed his other chest in your mouth. Your stomach felt like it was about to burst, you were being force fed so much milk you were about to explode.

You had no choice but to shove everything deep down, your throat was getting tired, the bottom part of your face was sheening with liquid, the collar of your shirt was bleeding with it.

“Such a good baby~” the perverted cow praised, pressing your face deeper into his skin. You were about to bite off his nipple at this point.

Your mouth was too full, with a valiant force of your throat you managed to pull the milk down your esophagus. Or so you thought.

Your nose burnt like it was getting set on fire, someone fanning the blazing hell flames in the back of your throat.

Milk spilled out your nose, you managed to pull away with a coughing fit, your nasals felt hot when you finished regurgitating milk through your nose.

“Oh! I’m sorry— I didn’t know I was overwhelming you.” The thick assailant above you said innocently as if he was not at fault for it, asshole. Prick. Slut. He knew what he was doing and wasn’t going to pull away unless you sprayed that shit through your nose.

“F—Fuh— *cough* fuck you!” You wiped at your nose with your forearm, pushing him away with your hand while trying to dislodge yourself from his lap.

Stupid himbo. You thought bitterly, fiercely glaring at him through the corner of your eye. He just sat there and smiled, basically glowing.

Briar looked down at his chest, slightly less full than before, a new change being his abnormally puffy nipples, his index pressed against his soft tissue, his spine arching at the delicious sting that came from the contact.

His areolas had deep teeth indents, lovebites from you! Just for him only, to show how much you really love him, he wished that he could replay the memory of you eagerly lapping up his milk like a starved calf.

Briar lifted his head, bleary blues looked for you in the living room, but it was just him, sitting on the couch with a pool of now cold milk on the wooden floor and a painful erection.

“Ah! I see! You want to play hide and seek with me, don’t you?” Briar clapped his hands together, excited for playtime with his darling, he took care of buttoning his flannel back on correctly, wincing at the feeling of his sensitive nipples brushing against the soft fabric.

You hid in a closet, crossing your fingers and toe’s that Briar never actually found you. You had just gotten your stomach pumped, you didn’t want to be squeezed like a dog toy next.

Heavy footfall outside the closet alerted you, accidentally letting out a little gasp. The shadow of a large bull man stopped in front of the door. Shit, he had heard you.

In a sudden movement, he threw the doors of the close wide open, sending a small gust of air your way.

Scared shitless you grabbed onto whatever was closest, but Briar didn’t care, he seemed overjoyed that he had found you!

You let out a small scream as he grabbed you like a stuffed animal and held you up in the air.

“Found you!!! Aww.. Poor little thing, you must be all tuckered out from all that milk..” he tilted his head closer to you “Let’s go take a nap together, okay?” He asked in a baby voice, squeezing you with his hands and kissing your face.

You weren’t able to say or move as he dragged you upstairs like a prized possession, absolutely getting your face wet with sloppy kisses once again.

How did you even end up with a man-thing like him? Oh! Right, because you used to have a heart of gold.

You glared at the obscenely humongous male sitting with you between his legs, his hands were brushing through your hair while rambling on about god-knows-what.

You were so completely and utterly fucked.

#divider by 1999ji #yandere x reader #smilesyanderes #yandere #male yandere #male yandere x reader #smilesanswers #fem reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #yandere male #briarposting

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oreo-creampies · 3 months ago

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𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: pure intense fluff, kissing, cuddling, squeezing, handsy pouty bastard, insisting you’ve been neglecting him, his is dying and it’s all your fault, how dare you do this to him, he will hold you accountable for your heinous crimes by cuddling you, toji is going soft for you, established relationship

Standing in front of your vanity, slipping your earrings off, sticking them with the rest. Glancing into your vanity mirror when Toji emerges from the bathroom.

Arms crossed over his bare pecs sticking his bottom lip out in his adorable pout. It’s one of your favorite Toji expressions. He huffs, “Finally someone figures where they live.”

He unzips the back of your dress. “You weren’t here!” kissing your shoulder. Slipping it down your body, trailing gentle sloppy kisses down your back. “The house was so empty and cold, I was dying of loneliness little mama.”

Stepping out of your dress, he tossing it into the hamper beside the bedroom door. “Is it even a home without you there?” His warm fingers brushing against your back unclasping your bra, gliding the straps off your shoulders. His touch comforting.

You insist, “Without you this place is just some walls.” Grabbing his hands, kissing his warm palms. Glancing into the mirror, Toji “It’s also not my fault you showed up two days early. Couldn't rush a planned girl’s night for your needy ass.” Turning around sliding your hand over his thick pecs, broad shoulder and into his soft dark hair.

“Im only needy when it comes to you mama. You’re so cruel neglecting me.” Grabbing your ass, lifting you up. Wrapping your legs around his slim waist.

Insisting, “We aren't leaving for the weekend. Tired of seeing everyone’s ugly ass faces and hearing their annoying ass voices.” He kisses the top of your head. “Just need to spend some time with you mama.” Wrapping his arms around your waist, squeezing your tightly.

Wheezing, “I'm all your’s Teddy Bear!” Your back pops several times. Gasping for sweet air when he loosens his gasp.

“Damn right you are.” Kissing along Toji’s jawline, softly biting his pouty bottom lip, melting into his gentle kiss.“It’s not fair mama I can't squeeze you like I want to.” Carrying you through the hallway, towards the living room. “Get good mama, lemme squeeze you tighter.”

“Nah Teddy Bear that’s a you problem.” Squeezing Toji’s slim waist with your legs, tightening your grasp around Toji’s neck. “I can hug you as tight as I want. Ha-ha-haha!” Ripping you off him and throwing you onto the sofa.

“Imma make it your problem little mama.” Carefully falling on top of you, pinning your body with his weight. Resting his head on your chest. “Hahah! Looks whose trapped now! I’m not letting you go anywhere beautiful.”

Pushing himself up, and leaning in for a kiss. “All mine.” Parting your lips, the gentle hunger of his passionate kiss replacing your need for air. Slipping your fingers through his soft dark hair.

When he pulls away, covering your face with kisses. You grin widely, “I missed ya so much teddy bear, I’m all your’s for the rest of the week. I’ll make sure you get sick of me.” Giving your forehead another gentle kiss, squeezing your hips.

It’s comforting having his heavy weight pressing you into the bed. His large strong hands on your body making you feel so safe and protected. His gentle kisses and words ensuring you know how cherished you are.

His cheeks turn pink, spreading across the bridge of his nose, coloring the tips of his ears. “I can never get enough of you.” His eyes widen. “Listen to me, ya made me all mushy, gonna have to hold you responsible. Hmm how should I do that.”

Oreo’s m.list

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #toji fluff #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x y/n #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu toji #toji x you

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xaviever · 2 months ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ଓ overstim with him!

including. xavier, zayne, sylus, & caleb.

summary. scenarios where one or both of you are overstimulated during sex. ˃𖥦˂

cw. (afab!reader) 🔞 mdni. softdom!zayne. kinda sub!sylus. patheticdom?caleb. overstimulation, obvi. breeding (xav & caleb), dumbification (zayne), xavier says ily in it. use of baby, sweetheart, princess, & dear.

ᢉ𐭩 xavier!

this is nothing new. xavier is often overwhelmed by his need for you. his impressive stamina and unbridled desire are a wicked combo, leaving you in for long, long nights when his restraint snaps. he’s had you against the door when you first arrived home, on the couch, kitchen counter, in the shower; now, finally, in bed on your side, slowly and deeply kissing each corner of your insides like some lecherous love letter.

“xav- baby, s’too much,” your voice sounds scratchy and foreign from the amount of strain over the last few hours. in response, your thigh is hiked up further, flush against his sweaty chest for a better angle. "fuckfuck, my god, xavier!"

“made to take me…” his lips find their way to your ear, sucking on the lobe as he rambles, unbelievably pussydrunk and obsessed with the repeated slosh your combined releases have created. he keeps his voice as steady and soft as he can while not losing his pace, fucking as deep inside you as your body allows.

“you’re molded to me, baby. mmf, made to be pumped f-full of my cum. you were made for me.”

all of your senses feel on fire, completely overloaded from your evening of being folded into impossible positions again and again. xavier is nothing if not insatiable when it comes to claiming you, his hunger for you, your presence, your attention, your sweet cunt taking him to the hilt like it was destined for his cock.

he's as sensitive as you are now, gasping each thrust, almost whimpering, "just one more, p-please. aah, you can do it. i feel you, mmfuck. i know you're close..."

you nod dopily, consumed by the way your numbness dissipates, body buzzing as you somehow find the will to cum again. your arm moves back to cage his head against yours, and he fucks you both through the haziness, his moans and your broken cries a symphony in the night. he cums hard, and so much, an insane amount after emptying himself inside you all night. the two of you lay entangled in one another, both too sore and thoughtless to even fathom moving.

"i love you so much. so much..." xavier professes into your shoulder, pressing clammy kisses to every part of your neck he can reach in silent worship before drifting off in your aftershocks together.

ᢉ𐭩 zayne!

you can't even speak. zayne’s fingers and tongue have been working you skillfully for so long, too long. he's memorized everything about your body. how you like your clit sucked, when and how to point and flatten his tongue. he knows all your sweet spots, the exact angle, pace, intensity needed for you to cum the hardest, see stars and make you dumb the easiest. of course, he'd never degrade you and call you such, though there's something so riveting about having you brainless under him, entirely overcome by his expertise in your pleasure.

you're cumming all over his hand for nth time with a weak cry, shivering as he holds your hip down to the bed so he can properly fuck you through the waves, not stopping until he feels you've given him every last drop once more. big tears roll down the sides of your cheeks, which he immediately responds to, bringing the hand holding you down up your body to your face and sweetly caressing.

"you've been so good for me. i'm proud of you, my perfect girl."

his pruny fingers slip from you with no resistance. zayne coos at you hearing your tired whines, softly maneuvering you while he shushes and mutters reflexive praises. you’re okay, safe, he’s going to take care of you. he always does. before you can register it your legs are spread widely apart, zayne’s practiced caution evident in how delicately he handles you.

"i believe you can take a bit more for me, no?" he strokes himself unhurriedly, all while thumbing your clit, keeping you stimulated still. he still appears relatively composed above you, one of his only giveaways being the stuttering of his breath, barely controlled lust seeping through him.

zayne enters you steadily, always being gracious enough to let you adjust to his girth. "hah... she's been waiting for me. i can tell." your messy cunt welcomes him warmly, his heavy tip opening you up in a way his fingers could not. it has you reanimating, thighs shooting up to clench around his hips. you spasm, the ghost of an orgasm making you seize around him and ripping the air from both of your lungs.

he sighs out at the feeling of his full length bottomed out inside you, admiring you pliant and glowing under him. “i... ha-have to hear you, dear.” the same fingers that were previously stretching your cunt softly push past your pouty lips. he splays them all over your tongue, forcing the sounds you'd been too delirious to let out escape while he begins fucking into you like a promise.

“mmh, say my name. i know you can.”

ᢉ𐭩 sylus!

you just wanted sylus to feel good, like he so often makes you feel. ...and if you maybe got a little power hungry and ended up addicted to the way he falls apart, holding him down, coaxing him into letting you make him cum over and over, on your seventh "one more" of the night... well, that is not a crime.

in all actuality, though, sylus does not need much convincing. he's not one to oppose you, naturally. however, the second you got commanding, a small switch flipped in his brain and he couldn't save face, couldn't stay above his innate call to submit to you. he's unsure why he'd ever fight it now. sylus is enraptured by your hedonism tonight, reduced from his usual weighty presence to something only you can unlock within him. something yours.

"you know you've got such a pretty dick, baby," you purr, flicking your wrist as you jerk him off with a casual pace, one that's become less bearable after multiple releases. "so big, pink and drippy for me. for me, right, sy?"

the prettiest moans fall from his lips when his head lolls against his headboard, barely deciphering what you've said but knowing to agree, anyway. he nods lazily, peering down at you through clouded, low eyes. his brows are knit in the most desperate expression you've ever seen from him, zeroed in on you. sylus gasps in a big breath after you squeeze him at the base, trying to get more of those beautiful sounds from him.

"yes. yes, sweetheart, y-youu, ffuuck-" he drawls, feeling on the precipice of cumming once more with every slight movement of yours. "yours. aagh! haah, fuck, a-all of me. everything."

his words go straight to your pussy, pulsing from your neglect. having him fill you to the brim sounds amazing, hearing him be this submissive under you? you moan a little at your own imagination. sylus continues to whine, grounding you here as you conclude before you satiate your need, you have to hear him cum one more time. just one more. he can take it.

your hand speeds up wordlessly, already knowing how close he is from the way he twitches, so beautiful and sensitive. "kitten, please." he sounds so sultry begging for you, his voice pitching with need, a frequency only for your ears. you're addicted to this side of him. "i want...w-want to cum for you again."

ᢉ𐭩 caleb!

“sh-shit, you- aangh, p-” caleb’s head feels impossibly heavy as he allows it to fall back against the couch cushion. any attempt at a plea falls shorter with each rhythmic bounce of your hips.

you'd jumped him as soon as he settled into your home from his visit, taking initiative and sinking yourself down on him at the first opportunity. he should've known he was in for it with how easily he slipped inside you, like you prepped without him. this was premeditated. the drag of your walls around him, hot and wet and unrelenting, you were fucking him like he owed you something.

“pips! princeeess, ffuck, please. you’re milkin’ me for all i’m worth, haah-” he’s cut off by his own breathy moan. you don’t stop, not even for a second. if caleb really couldn’t take it he’d safeword or lift you with his evol, yet he only has the brainpower to hiccup and whine under you as you use his dick to your heart’s content.

his hands squeeze your hips for relief, kneading your soft skin for any kind of purchase. you lean down, your fucked out moans vibrate against his neck as you nestle your mouth there. you instinctively sink your teeth into him, pulling something lewd, broken from his throat that even he was a little appalled by.

he doesn't think he's ever cum this much in succession. caleb is already very easy, often fighting hard to not cum from the smallest of your intimacies. you can imagine how hard it is to stay lucid when he has no choice but to cum for you over and over again.

the two of you sound like a couple of pornstars, producing some of the most depraved noises you've ever heard come out of each other, and the constant plap! plap! plap! resounding in your living room.

"need you. cum- nghh, cum in me again," you moan a little animalistically as you rise, facing caleb again to speak. you grab his face, smushing it to make him focus, wanting him to hear your words. "want all of you, c-caleb. pleease."

pitiful as he is, caleb whines at your words, the noise jarbled from your grip on his face. he's throbbing painfully at the admission of your need, hands getting rougher, faster, gathering his remaining coherence to make you scream and chase this release as much as you were. your hands fall, gripping his chest for stability, and caleb groans, dipping his forehead down to rest against yours.

"fuck, baby. got me shootin' blanks and you still want 'em. filthy girl."

— authors note. just couldn’t stop thinking abt this one sub!sylus fic i read… all this came from that lolol. rbs are appreciated!

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moonlightwritingf1 · 2 months ago

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Teach Me | LN4

˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ᡣ𐭩 summary ━━━━━━━ Lando and Y/N have been together for a few months now, but for her, he’s the first in everything. He’s been endlessly patient—always focused on her pleasure, never rushing or expecting anything in return. But now, Y/N wants to make him feel good too.

˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ᡣ𐭩 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ᡣ𐭩 word count ━━━━━━━ 4.7k

˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ᡣ𐭩 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, oral sex (m receiving), cum swallow, choking on cock

Based on this request.

“You want to… what?” Lando’s voice cracked slightly, his eyes wide as he stared at her. His fingers, which had been lazily tracing circles on her thigh, froze mid-motion.

Y/N hesitated for a fraction of a second, her cheeks burning, but the determination in her eyes didn’t waver. “I want to… you know… make you feel good. Like you’ve done for me.” Her voice was softer now, almost a whisper, but the intensity in her gaze held his.

Lando blinked, his lips parting slightly as if he was trying to process what she’d just said. The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thicker, and the sound of their breathing seemed to echo louder than it should. “You mean… that?” he asked, his voice low and laced with a mix of disbelief and something else—something hotter, darker.

She nodded, her teeth sinking into her lower lip as she tried to suppress the nervous flutter in her chest. “I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. I… I want to. But I’m scared. I don’t know how to… do it. Will you… teach me?”

Lando’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he looked like he’d been struck by lightning. His hand moved from her thigh to her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek in a gesture so tender it made her heart ache. “Fucking hell, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough. “You’re going to kill me.”

She laughed nervously, the sound shaky but genuine. “I don’t want to kill you. I just… I want to make you feel good. You’ve been so patient with me, and I…” She trailed off, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt as she searched for the right words.

Lando leaned in, his forehead resting against hers, his breath warm against her skin. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for, you know that, right?” he said softly, his tone earnest. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

“I know,” she whispered, her hands moving to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath her palms. “But I want to. I just… need you to guide me.”

Lando let out a low groan, his forehead still pressed against hers. “Christ, you’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, but there was no mistaking the excitement in his voice. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with hers, and she could see the hunger there, the raw desire that he usually kept carefully in check.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice thick with restraint.

She nodded again, more confidently this time. “Yes. I’m sure.”

Lando exhaled sharply, his hands moving to frame her face. “Okay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “But we’re going to take it slow. And if you want to stop at any point, you say the word. Deal?”

“Deal,” she breathed, her heart racing as she felt the tension between them shift, becoming something heavier, something more electric.

Without another word, she slid off the couch and knelt on the floor in front of him, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for the waistband of his sweatpants. Lando’s breath caught, his eyes darkening as he watched her, but he didn’t stop her. Instead, he leaned back slightly, giving her space to work.

“Easy,” he murmured, his voice impossibly soft as she tugged his pants down, followed by his boxers. His cock was already semi-hard, the tip flushed and twitching slightly as the cool air hit him. She couldn’t help but stare, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of him. The conversation they’d just had had made him this way, had made him horny, had made him semi-hard. And now, here she was, kneeling in front of him, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest.

Lando’s hand reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek in a gesture so tender it made her stomach flip. “You’re doing so good, love,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. “But before we go any further, I need to make sure you know what you’re doing. Can’t have you getting overwhelmed, yeah?”

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “Tell me,” she breathed, her voice barely audible. “Tell me what to do.”

Lando’s lips curved into a soft smile, but his eyes were intense, filled with a hunger that made her shiver. “First, you’re going to make me fully hard,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Use your hand. Just… take me in your palm and stroke me. Gently, at first. Like this.” His hand covered hers, guiding her as she wrapped her fingers around him. The warmth of him, the way he felt in her hand, sent a jolt of heat straight to her core.

She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening slightly as she followed his guidance. His cock twitched in her hand, growing harder with every slow stroke. “Fuck,” he hissed, his head falling back against the couch. “That’s it, love. Just like that.”

Lando’s hand moved to her chin, gently tilting her face up to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, almost predatory, but there was a softness there too, a reassurance that made her pulse quicken. “Spit in your palm,” he instructed, his voice low and steady. “As much as you can.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, but she didn’t hesitate. She pulled her hand away from him, brought it to her mouth, and let her saliva pool in her palm. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but the look on Lando’s face—pure, unadulterated desire—made her feel bold. She spat into her hand, the sound loud in the quiet room, and then returned her damp palm to his cock.

The moment her slick hand wrapped around him again, Lando let out a groan that sent shivers down her spine. “Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered, his hips jerking slightly. “That’s it. Now keep stroking me. Just like that.”

She obeyed, her movements slow and deliberate as she used the wetness to glide her hand up and down his length. His cock was getting harder, throbbing in her grasp, and the way he reacted to her touch—the way his breath quickened, the way his fingers dug into the couch—only fueled her confidence.

Y/N could feel the tension building between them, the air thick with unspoken desire. Her hand moved on its own now, her strokes becoming more confident as she watched him react to her touch. His breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he fought to keep control.

“You’re a natural,” he groaned, his voice strained.

Lando’s hand gripped the back of the couch, his knuckles whitening as he fought to keep himself steady. His breathing was already ragged, his cock twitching in her palm, but he wasn’t losing control—not yet. He was savoring every second of this, every touch, every hesitant stroke of her hand. His eyes never left her face, watching her with a mix of awe and hunger that made her stomach clench with need.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” he murmured, his voice dripping with praise. “So, so well.”

Y/N’s heart swelled at his words, the encouragement fueling her confidence. But she wasn’t done yet. She wanted to do more—wanted to explore him, to taste him. The thought made her cheeks burn, but the ache between her legs was impossible to ignore. She wanted to make him feel as good as he’d made her feel, wanted to see him completely undone because of her.

“Can I—” she began, her voice trembling slightly. “Can I taste you?”

Lando’s eyes burned with hunger, a low groan escaping his lips before he could stop it. “Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice strained.

“You’re going to kill me.” But he didn’t say no. He couldn’t. The idea of her mouth on him, her tongue exploring him, was enough to drive him to the brink of madness.

She didn’t wait for him to say more. Leaning forward, she let her lips brush against the tip of his cock, testing the feel of him against her mouth. He twitched under her touch, a sharp intake of breath hissing through his teeth. She could feel the heat of him, the way his skin was velvety soft but hard underneath, and it made her pulse quicken.

Her tongue dipped out, tentatively flicking against the tip. The taste of him was salty, musky, and it sent a jolt of heat straight to her core. Lando’s reaction was immediate—his hips jerked slightly, and a low, guttural moan spilled from his lips.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his hand gripping the couch so tightly she thought the fabric might tear. “You’re already driving me insane.”

Y/N’s heart raced, but she didn’t stop. She wanted more. Her tongue flicked out again, this time more confidently, licking up the length of his cock in a slow, deliberate stroke. She could feel the way he shuddered under her touch, the way his breath hitched when her tongue swirled around the sensitive head. It was intoxicating, the way he reacted to her, the way he was completely at her mercy.

She kissed the tip of his cock next, her lips pressing against him in a soft, lingering kiss. The sound that escaped Lando’s throat was primal, almost feral, and it sent a thrill through her. She kissed the length of him next, her lips trailing down his shaft in a series of tender, exploratory kisses. It was almost reverent, the way she was touching him, exploring him, and it made his chest ache with something he couldn’t quite name.

“You’re so gentle,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “It’s driving me absolutely fucking crazy.”

Y/N smiled against his skin, her confidence growing with every touch, every kiss. She was mostly exploring, learning the feel of him, the way he responded to her. But Lando was watching her with intense, unwavering focus, his eyes full of need. And he couldn’t stop the flow of praise that spilled from his lips.

“Just like that, yeah—just like that,” he groaned, his hips bucking slightly as her tongue swirled around him again. “You’re perfect.”

His words sent a rush of warmth through her, and she found herself wanting to please him even more. Her hand still stroked him slowly, her palm slick with his precum and her saliva, while her tongue continued to explore him. She licked up the length of his cock, her tongue flat against his skin, before darting back to focus on the sensitive tip. Every little movement made him twitch, made him groan, and she loved it. She loved the way he was unraveling because of her.

“You’re learning so fast,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Feels like a dream, honestly.”

Y/N glanced up at him then, her eyes meeting his, and the intensity of his gaze made her heart skip a beat. His pupils were blown wide, the blue of his irises almost completely swallowed by the black, and the heat in his eyes was undeniable. He looked like he was hanging on by a thread, like he was one touch away from completely losing control.

“Wrap your lips around me,” he instructed gently, his hand moving to the back of her head in a soft, guiding touch. “Just the tip. ‘’

She obeyed, her lips parting as she took the head of his cock into her mouth.

‘’That’s it… good girl.”

The first taste of him was overwhelming—salty, musky, and so incredibly him. She could feel the way his body tensed, the way his fingers tightened in her hair, and it made her shiver with anticipation. Her cheeks hollowed slightly as she sucked on him tentatively, her tongue pressing against the underside of his shaft.

“Fuck,” Lando choked out, his head tipping back against the couch. “Slow, baby. You don’t have to take it all. Just what feels good to you.”

She nodded slightly, her lips still wrapped tight around him, and she began to move. Slowly, hesitantly, she bobbed her head, taking just a little more of him into her mouth with each pass. The way he filled her mouth, the way his cock throbbed against her tongue, was intoxicating. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he was fighting to keep himself still, and it only made her want to push him further.

Her hand continued to stroke him in tandem with her mouth, her fingers tight around the base of his cock as she worked him. Every now and then, she’d pull back, her tongue swirling around the tip before diving back down. The sounds he was making—low, guttural moans that seemed to come from deep within his chest—were driving her wild. She wanted to hear more, wanted to see just how far she could take him.

“Jesus Christ,” Lando muttered, his hand tightening in her hair. “You’re going to make me fucking come, Y/N.”

The words sent a rush of heat through her, and she pulled back slightly, her lips brushing against the tip of his cock as she looked up at him. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed, and her lips slick with his precum. She looked utterly sinful, and it made Lando’s chest ache with how much he wanted her.

“Keep going,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. “Please, baby. Keep going.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. Her lips wrapped around him again, her tongue swirling around his tip before she took him deeper into her mouth. She could feel the way his body tensed, the way his hips bucked slightly, and she loved it. She loved the way he was completely at her mercy, the way he was unraveling because of her.

And she knew, without a doubt, that she was going to make him come.

Y/N’s confidence was growing with every bob of her head, her lips sliding down a little further each time. But then, pushing just a fraction deeper than before, the tip of his cock hit the back of her throat. She gagged, a choked sound escaping her as she instinctively pulled back, her eyes watering as she looked up at him.

“Shit, you okay?” Lando asked, his voice thick with concern as he sat up slightly, his hand hovering near her face. She nodded quickly, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, her voice a little shaky.

“I want to keep trying.” Lando’s chest swelled with pride, his gaze softening as he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Lando’s hand gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had escaped her watering eyes.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and tender, though it was laced with an unmistakable strain. “We can stop right now if it’s too much. I don’t want to push you, love.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide but determined, her lips still damp from where they’d been wrapped around him.

“I’m sure,” she whispered, her voice steady despite the faint tremor in it. “I don’t want to stop. I want to keep going. I want to make you feel good.”

Lando’s breath hitched, his chest swelling with something that felt dangerously close to awe. “Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice rough with emotion. His fingers traced the curve of her jaw, his touch so soft it made her heart ache. “You’re fucking perfect.”

The way he said it—like she was the most incredible thing he’d ever seen—sent a shiver down her spine. She could see it in his eyes, the way he was completely undone by her, the way he was hanging on every move she made. It was intoxicating, the way she had this power over him, the way he was so utterly hers.

She dove back in, her lips wrapping around him again, determined to push past the discomfort.

She slowed her pace, her lips gliding gently over him, savoring the feel of his cock against her tongue. Her movements were soft, almost teasing, as she focused on the tip, swirling her tongue around the sensitive ridge. Her hand stayed at the base, stroking him in slow, steady motions, her touch light but firm. Lando’s breath hitched, his fingers twitching against the couch as he let out a low, shuddering groan.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered, his voice rough with need. “You’re so—god—so fucking good at this.” Y/N smiled against him, her confidence growing again.

This time, when she gagged, she didn’t pull back. Her throat clenched around him, her eyes watering, but she didn’t stop. She kept going, her hand stroking him in tandem with her mouth. Lando’s reaction was instant, his hips jerking slightly as a string of curses spilled from his lips.

“Shit—shit, baby, that was—fuck,” he groaned, his hand twitching where it rested on the couch, fighting the urge to grip her hair.

“That little gag? And you kept going? Christ, baby,” he muttered, his voice strained. “You’re driving me out of my fucking mind.”

She moaned softly around him, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure through his body, as if she was agreeing with his words in the most intimate way possible. The sound was muffled by his cock, but it was enough to make Lando’s breath hitch, his hips jerking slightly as he fought to keep still.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, his voice rough with need, his fingers tangling in her hair as he guided her. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Her lips tightened around him, her tongue swirling around his tip as she took him deeper, her moans growing louder with every bob of her head. The vibrations of her voice against his sensitive skin drove him wild, his cock throbbing in her mouth as precum leaked from the tip.

The deep, guttural moan that escaped him next made her thighs press together, her core aching with need. It was raw, uncontrollable, and it did something to her that she couldn’t explain. Lando noticed, his lips curling into a smirk even as his breath came in short, uneven gasps.

“You like hearing me fall apart?” he teased, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N pulled back with a soft pop, her lips glistening and slightly swollen. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with desire but still holding that hint of shyness that drove him wild.

“Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but laced with so much intention it sent a shiver down his spine. Her fingers tightened around the base of his cock, her touch firm but still so gentle that it made him ache.

“Then keep going,” Lando said, his voice low and commanding, though there was a softness in it that was meant just for her. His thumb brushed her cheek, a silent affirmation.

“I’m yours.” Her breath hitched at his words, and for a moment, she just stared at him, her heart racing at the weight of what he’d just said. “I’m yours.” It wasn’t just permission—it was a surrender.

She obeyed without hesitation, her lips and tongue working him with a renewed sense of purpose. The way he was reacting—the way he was completely at her mercy—was intoxicating. Her movements were slow but deliberate, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip of his cock before taking him deeper, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked. She could feel the tension building in him, the way his body tensed with every stroke, every flick of her tongue. His breathing was ragged, his hips jerking slightly as he fought to keep still.

Lando’s moans were growing louder, more desperate, and Y/N could feel it—the tension in his body, the way his thighs trembled, the way his hand tightened in her hair. It was as if he was hanging on by a thread, and she was the one unraveling him, inch by inch. Her confidence had skyrocketed, her movements growing faster, sloppier, her lips and tongue working him with a hunger she didn’t realize she had. She wanted to push him to the edge, wanted to see him completely undone because of her.

“Y/N—baby—” he gasped, his voice trembling with need. “Slow down. I’m gonna… fuck, I’m gonna come.” But she didn’t stop. If anything, she pressed on, her lips tightening around him, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip of his cock in a way that made his hips jerk uncontrollably. “Fuck,” he groaned, his hand gripping the couch cushion so hard that the fabric creaked under his fingers. “You’re going to kill me.”

His warning only fueled her determination. She looked up at him, her lips still wrapped around him, her eyes locking with his. Her gaze was intense, filled with a mix of innocence and boldness that made his chest ache. She pulled back just enough to speak, her voice soft but laced with determination. “I want to try swallowing,” she whispered, her words sending a jolt of heat straight to his core.

Lando’s jaw dropped, his breath catching in his throat as he stared at her, utterly stunned. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, the words barely audible. His hand tightened in her hair, his fingers trembling slightly as he fought to keep himself steady. He was so close—so fucking close—and the way she was looking at him, the way she was so eager to please him, was enough to send him over the edge.

She didn’t wait for him to respond. Her lips wrapped around him again, her tongue flicking against the sensitive underside of his cock as she took him deeper. The way she was working him—the way she was so determined to make him come—was driving him out of his mind. His hips jerked again, his thighs trembling as he fought to keep still. “Y/N,” he groaned, her name spilling from his lips like a prayer. “Fuck, baby, I’m—I’m gonna—”

He didn’t finish the sentence. His climax hit him like a tidal wave, his entire body shaking as he came, his hand gripping the back of her head as he spilled into her mouth. Y/N’s eyes widened slightly at the sudden rush of warmth, but she didn’t pull back. She stayed there, her lips still wrapped around him, her tongue working to swallow every drop. The taste was salty and it sent a jolt of heat straight to her core. She could feel the way he was trembling, the way his breath came in short, uneven gasps, and it made her heart race.

Lando’s hand fell from her hair, his fingers twitching slightly as he tried to catch his breath. His head was tipped back against the couch, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he fought to come down from the high she’d just given him. “Fuck,” he muttered, his voice hoarse and rough. “Y/N… baby… that was—” He didn’t finish the sentence, his words trailing off as he let out a shaky breath.

She pulled back slowly, her lips still glistening as she looked up at him. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes wide and filled with a mix of innocence and something else—something that made his chest ache. She hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking down to the tip of his cock, where a single drop of cum still lingered. She leaned forward, her tongue darting out to lick it off, her lips closing around the tip in a soft, lingering kiss. Lando’s entire body stiffened, his breath catching in his throat as he watched her. “You didn’t have to—fuck, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he muttered, his voice rough with disbelief. He stared down at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to process what she’d just done. “I didn’t even think you’d… Jesus, you’re full of surprises.”

She smiled shyly, her cheeks burning as she glanced up at him. “I just… wanted to,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Lando’s heart swelled at her words, his chest aching with something he couldn’t quite name. He leaned forward, his hand moving to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her jaw in a gesture so tender it made her stomach flip. “Come here,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with need. “I need to kiss you. Right now.”

She didn’t hesitate. She leaned in, her lips meeting his in a slow, lingering kiss that made her heart race. It was soft, almost reverent, but there was a hunger there that made her chest ache. His hand moved to the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against hers in a way that sent shivers down her spine.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, his breath warm against her skin, he let out a shaky laugh. “I’ll never forget this,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Ever. You’ve ruined every other memory I have.”

She laughed softly, her hand moving to rest on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath her palm. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she teased, her voice laced with a playfulness that made him smile.

Lando groaned, his hand moving to the back of his neck as he let out a shaky breath. “You’re going to be the death of me, Y/N,” he muttered, but there was no mistaking the affection in his voice.

Lando didn’t waste a second. As soon as she leaned back, he pulled her up and into his lap, his arms wrapping around her like she was the most precious thing in the world. His hands were gentle but firm, cradling her against him as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “That was… holy shit,” he breathed, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief. He shook his head slightly, his hand smoothing over her back in slow, comforting circles. “You didn’t just make me feel good, love. You made me feel worshipped.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed at his words, her heart swelling with a warmth she couldn’t quite describe. She hesitated for a moment, her fingers nervously playing with the fabric of his shirt. “Did I… did I do okay?” she whispered, her voice tentative, almost shy.

Lando’s eyes widened, and he let out a soft, incredulous laugh. “Okay?” he repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. He took her hand and placed it firmly over his chest, letting her feel the rapid, unsteady beat of his heart. “You destroyed me,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “Feel that? That’s what you do to me. Every single time.”

Her breath hitched at his words, her fingers curling slightly against his chest. She could feel the way his heart raced beneath her palm, the way his body still trembled from the intensity of what had just happened. It was a feeling she’d never experienced before—this power, this connection. And it was because of him, because of the way he looked at her, the way he held her, the way he made her feel like she was everything.

Lando’s hand moved to her chin, gently tilting her face up to meet his gaze. His eyes were soft, filled with so much tenderness it made her chest ache. “You’re incredible,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “You know that, right? You’re fucking incredible.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away quickly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’m just… trying to keep up with you,” she said softly, her voice trembling slightly.

Lando shook his head, his thumb brushing against her cheek in a gesture so tender it made her heart ache. “You’re not just keeping up, Y/N,” he murmured. “You’re leading. And I’m fucking obsessed with it.” He leaned in then, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that was so soft, so gentle, it made her chest swell with something she couldn’t quite name.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers, his breath warm against her skin. “You’re it for me,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You know that, right?”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her heart racing at his words. She nodded slightly, her hand still resting on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat beneath her palm. “I do,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “And you’re it for me too.”

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yogirl-willow · 7 days ago

Text

The Crimson Pact | Part 8

SoulBond!AU

Pairings: Yandere!Saja Boys x F!Reader

Synopsis: You were never supposed to remember them.

Four hundred years ago, a pact was made—a blood-soaked bond tying five demons to one human soul: yours.

They’ve waited lifetimes for your reincarnation, cursed with obsession, tethered by fate.

And now that you’ve returned?

They’ll burn the world before they let you go again.

Warnings: Explicit Smut / NSFW. Minors DNI (Do Not Interact), Oral Sex (F!Receiving), Fingering, Breast Play / Touching, Penetrative Sex (P in V), Breeding Kink / Creampie, Voyeurism, Soul bond with the Saja Boys, Yandere themes!, obsessive behavior / possessiveness, romantic psychological tension, intense emotional fixation, yearning, dark romance, hurt/comfort

A/N: The chapter I know many of you have been dying for. As the warning states, explicit smut, people! I didn't hold back. For my readers who don't like that, a fair warning that the chapter starts and ends with smut, but there is an important part in between regarding the bond & plot. Let me know if you want me to add markers for that tho? This chapter ended up being longer than I expected, so the next chapter will... also...have... smut. I just couldn't fit it all in here. So y'all will have another yummy treat next chapter! I started writing this series already intending for it to be spicy, but it isn't everything of course!

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The Saja boys are all demons.

They are wrath and ruin. Jealousy and death.

And yet, before her, they kneel.

Because she is the Heart. Because her soul is what keeps them from unraveling into true monsters. Because they were bound by her love and her curse.

They don’t just crave her—they depend on her. Without her presence, their minds deteriorate. Their bodies decay. Their hunger becomes unbearable.

Only Y/N’s touch tames the demon inside.

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Names (For those who get confused): Haneul (Abby), Seoha (Romance), Hwimori/Hwi (Mystery), Seungho (Baby)

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Part 8:

No More Waiting

They move at once. Not with chaos. With purpose. Hands, breaths, mouths. Like predators descending—not out of rage, but hunger. Not just to claim, but to consume. They don’t just touch you—they devour you.

Mystery— Hwimori’s hands grip your hips with urgency, as if anchoring himself to the only tether keeping him sane. He buries his face in your neck, breath hot, voice a trembling worship against your skin. “You smell so good, baby,” he murmurs, lips trailing your throat. “I want to live inside your bones. Want to rip myself open and pour into you. Make a nest in your ribs and never leave.”

Your gasp catches, and he shudders against you. Romance—Seoha appears at your side, his fingers cradling your jaw like you’re spun glass. “So perfect,” he breathes, brushing his lips over your cheek.

Then Baby—Seungho seizes your wrist. The bruising grip, the wild eyes, that untethered possessiveness like a match already lit. “You made me wait.” His voice is low, guttural. It’s not anger—it’s damage. “You walked through lifetimes without me. And now…” His gaze sweeps your body like he’s already stripping it bare. “Now you’ll feel what that did to me.”

You gasp as he angles his hips closer to your torso and you feel him. His burning need and desire ground into your stomach. You gasp and moan at the feeling, the sound making all of them growl in complete and utter need.

They don’t carry you to the bed. They herd you—closer, closer—with every step back met by one, two, three more bodies pressing forward. Fingers grazing your skin like it’s theirs by right. Mouths brushing exposed flesh. Words whispered in barely-restrained lust.

You can’t tell whose hands are where. Only that you're being unmade. Until your back hits the bed—and even then, they don't pounce. Not yet. They savor.

Jinu is behind you before you blink. One firm tug and you're pulled between his legs, back flush to his chest, his thighs bracketing yours. His arms wrap around your waist, steel and silk. He kisses your neck with slow-burning hunger. Not a kiss to seduce—a kiss to bind. “You belong here,” he says, low and devastating. “With us. With me. In every life. In every death. Every breath in between.”

His hands drift up, palms broad, fingertips burning into your thighs, your waist, your ribs. Like he's memorizing you through possession.

Then, Seoha and Hwimori appear before you. Together. Eyes gleaming, breath caught. Like they’re standing at the altar of something divine. “Let us see you,” Seoha whispers. “Let us remember.”

Hwimori’s fingers tremble as he reaches for your top. He doesn’t yank—it’s a slow peel, a delicate unveiling. Inch by inch, until the fabric slips over your head and falls away, leaving you bare to their ravenous eyes.

The five demons before you stare, breathing ragged. Like the sight of your bare skin was the ruin they’ve been waiting for. Seoha’s breath catches. You hear Abby– Haneul growl, deep and wanting at the sight of you in your bra and skirt. His eyes dart to the swell of your cleavage and he almost comes undone at the sight. Hwimori swears under his breath. “Fucking… god.”

Seoha presses a kiss to your stomach, eyes fluttering shut like he's praying. “You are not real,” he murmurs. “You’re a vision. A fever dream we bled centuries to see again.”

You moan at the feel of his warm lips on your skin. His kisses trail upwards, closer and closer to the treasure hidden beneath your undergarments. And then, Jinu’s hands unclasp your bra from behind, Hwimori peeling it off like a present he’s been waiting to open. And the sight of you has them moaning.

“Fuck,” Seoha hisses. Haneul lets out a growl, eyes flashing a bright topaz. Seoha continues his trail upwards on your body. “So. Fucking. Beautiful.” he says between kisses. The first right above your navel, one after the other before he places a kiss in between your breasts. His lips burn and ignite a burning desire within you. Every kiss sends shock waves down to your core.

You whimper and Hwimori’s hands shake as they frame your waist. “If you were a god,” he breathes, “I’d burn every temple. Just to build one with your body as the altar.”

Behind you, Jinu’s breath hitches. His voice is ruined silk. “You’ve always been sacred. Ours. No matter the body. No matter the time.”

Then— Seungho. He’s standing in front of you. A prince bowed low, madness glinting in his eyes. He grabs your face—not gently, not cruelly, but desperately, like he’ll break apart if he doesn’t feel you, doesn’t anchor himself in you. And then he kisses you.

It’s not a kiss—it’s an onslaught. Ruinous. Ravaging. A soul-shattering collision of everything he’s buried for lifetimes. Your lips open on a moan as his mouth consumes yours, tongue sliding in with wild, aching hunger. One hand fists your breast like he’s claiming it. His thumb rolls over your nipple, and you sob into his kiss.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he groans, dragging his lips down your throat, biting softly, worshipping harsh. “I’d skin the world for the way you just breathe. I’ll never let you go. No one else sees you like this. No one else gets to.”

You’re shaking. Overheated. Undone.

“You’re too much,” you whisper.

He licks into your mouth like he wants to taste your heart. “And still not fucking enough.”

They press in like a tide, and there’s nowhere to run. Jinu’s mouth turns feverish at your neck. Seoha’s hands slide up your bare legs, slow and cruel before palming your left breast. A moan escapes you at the feel of his touch. Hwimori’s lips latch to your collarbone before you feel his shaky hand palm your right breast. He growls into your skin. Haneul licks a stripe across your inner thigh and moans, as if he’s the one unraveling.

“You don’t know what you’ve done to us,” Haneul murmurs. “You’ve been remaking us since the first time you smiled.”

The need in the room is feral. Clawing. Endless. You’re surrounded by five demons. And every one of them is starved for you. And this time… You want to be devoured.

A whimper breaks from your throat—high, needy—as Seoha and Hwimori’s breath ghosts over your chest. Their mouths hover, eyes dark with reverence and hunger, like twin beasts starving at the altar of your skin. And then—they descend.

Their mouths find your nipples in perfect, possessive sync, hot and wet, and you cry out, body arching, writhing, trembling. Their tongues roll over your peaks like they were tasting something forbidden, something sacred. You’ve never felt like this before—like your skin was stitched from lightning and silk, like your blood was boiling gold.

Your wrists are pinned to the bed beside you, held down by their hands like you might vanish if they loosened their grip. Like they need to anchor you. Jinu trails his tongue down your neck, slow and searing, like he’s branding you in fire. His breath is ragged, teeth grazing flesh. “You taste like every lifetime I’ve lost you in,” he growls into your skin. “Let me have you in this one.”

Then—hands spread your legs. Large. Firm. Commanding. You look down, dazed, breath caught—and freeze. Haneul. Between your thighs.

His gaze is molten obsidian, locked onto yours like a wolf scenting blood. Starved. Dangerous. Worshipful. You flinch as his breath grazes your inner thigh—and your skirt is slowly pushed up, inch by inch, exposing the soft lace beneath.

He groans, low and sinful. “Fuck,” he mutters, dragging his nose up your panties with a slow inhale that shudders through him. “Did you wear these for us, baby? For me?”

You barely manage a breath, your lips parting in a gasp—but then Seoha nips at your nipple, gently, and your whole body jolts. Jinu grips your chin hard, angling your face toward him. His mouth touches your ear—hot, demanding, coaxing. “Answer him, pretty girl.”

You squirm in his grasp. “Y-Yes,” you squeak.

But Haneul doesn’t let you catch your breath. He’s inhaling you like you’re the last thing left in the world worth breathing. His nose runs the length of your heat, eyes fluttering closed like he’s praying. Like he’s already drunk off you. “That’s all well and good, baby,” he murmurs darkly, voice barely human, “but you won’t miss these—will you?”

Before you can speak, the lace is torn from your body with a savage rip. A sound that echoes louder than it should. You gasp, instinctively trying to close your legs—but Hwimori and Seoha’s grip tightens. Jinu tsks from behind, shaking his head like you’ve disappointed him.

“You don’t hide from us,” he whispers. “Not anymore.”

Their eyes devour you. Hunger. Possession. Worship. You are no longer a girl laid bare. You are the offering.

Haneul kisses the inner corner of your thigh, then the other—soft, teasing, deadly.

“Wait—mmph!” You try to protest, but Jinu swallows your words with a kiss—ferocious and deep, a growl curling in his throat. His tongue commands yours like he’s claiming territory. Like your mouth is his. You sob into him as Haneul licks just above your heat, so close it aches. Every nerve in your body is fraying.

“What do you want, baby?” Seoha murmurs against your breast, lips dragging along your sensitive skin, voice thick with devotion and madness. “Say it. Say it so we can give it to you.”

“I—” Your voice catches. You’re panting. Burning. “I don’t know—”

“You do,” Jinu hisses, dragging your face toward the sight of Abby– Haneul hovering just above your center, his tongue already peeking past his lips. “Look at him. Say it.”

Your gaze lifts—and you see Baby- Seungho behind Haneul. Watching. Possessive. Hungry. His eyes blaze red-gold like a god enraged. His jaw clenched. His chest rising and falling like he’s barely holding himself back.

“Beg,” he says.

A single word. A sentence. A vow.

You shatter. “Please,” you whisper, tears brimming in your lashes. “Haneul… I-I need—please. Touch me.”

The groans that erupt around you could bring the heavens crashing down. “Where, baby?” Haneul hums, lips now just a breath from your heat. “Where do you need me?”

“Right there.” Your voice cracks. You don’t even know where it hurts anymore—only that it does. “Please. Just please.”

And then— The world stops. Because Haneul moves, and you are no longer kissed. You are devoured.

His mouth is merciless, and the first press of his tongue is pure annihilation. Your back arches. Your moan is swallowed by Jinu’s mouth. Your body writhes in chains of touch and teeth and heat and madness. Pleasure surges through you like a wave pulled from lifetimes of longing.

And they don’t stop. Because they’re not done. Because they’ve only just begun to ruin you. And you? You want to drown.

Haneul’s tongue moves like he’s starving—and he is. Not just for the taste of you, but the power in it. The proof that you're real. That this body, this soul, is finally within his grasp again.

“Fuck, she tastes like heaven.” He groans against you. “The closest to heaven we’ll ever get.”

Your legs tremble, twitching against their grip, but they don’t let you move. They couldn’t—wouldn’t—risk you slipping away. Not when you’ve been stolen by time and fate and death before. Not when they’ve only just gotten you back.

Seoha releases your nipple with a slick pop, his mouth swollen, eyes glazed. “She tastes like fate,” he mutters hoarsely, dragging his tongue down the curve of your breast. “And I’m done pretending that I’m not addicted.”

Hwimori presses his lips to your sternum, then your collarbone, then your jaw, each kiss tender and wild, like he’s scent-marking you with his mouth. “I can feel it,” he whispers against your pulse. “Her soul is singing. She wants this.”

Jinu groans low behind you, his arms flexing around your waist like a vice. “Mine,” he growls into your ear, biting the shell of it just enough to make you jolt. “Every sound, every breath, every fucking heartbeat—mine.”

And it’s true.

You feel like you’re splitting apart at the seams, not from pain, but from how much of them is in you—around you—claiming you. It’s more than lust. It’s memory. It’s centuries of starving for something they were never allowed to touch. Until now. Until you.

Your vision blurs as your hips buck, only to be slammed down by Haneul’s grip, his arms anchoring your thighs as he devours you like the world’s on fire and your body is the only thing left worth saving.

You sob. You keen. It’s too much. It’s not enough.

“Fuck—look at her,” Seoha breathes, brushing your hair back to see your face more clearly. “She’s coming apart for us.”

Your eyes flutter open—wet, dazed—and meet Seungho’s. He hasn’t touched you yet. But the way he looks at you from the foot of the bed—like a man possessed, like a god betrayed—makes your entire body clench. His fists are white-knuckled at his sides, holding back from tearing Haneul away just to take his place.

“She’s shaking,” Mystery murmurs, brushing his fingers over your ribs, holding you down as your spine arches.

“She’s remembering,” Jinu rasps. “Her soul… it knows.”

You choke on another moan as pleasure floods you, again and again, rippling like thunder in your veins. Your hands fist the sheets. You forget where you are. Who you are. You only know them. Only know the ache they’ve filled. And the space they’ve ruined. They don’t ask if it’s too much. They want it to be too much.

Because if you’re overwhelmed— You’re theirs.

“You’ll never want anyone else after this,” Haneul growls between licks, his voice muffled against your heat. “We’re gonna ruin you, princess. Ruin you so fucking sweet, you’ll beg to never leave.”

You’re unraveling.

Hands on your skin. Mouths against your chest. Fangs brushing your throat. You don’t even register what Haneul is doing until something firm presses against your soaked folds.

"Let me see how you grip me, baby…" he breathes—voice heavy with possession, like he’s about to step into a cathedral built of flesh and need.

You cry out—head snapping back—when a single finger pushes into your entrance. The intrusion is thick and slow and real, and your body fights to adjust. It burns. It aches. It pleads. Hwimori laces your fingers with his, grounding you, as your thighs twitch. He squeezes your hand hard. “Breathe, baby. You can take it. You were made for us.”

“Oh, fuck,” Haneul groans, and his eyes—his demon eyes—flash topaz and wild, like fire licking up stained glass. “She’s so fucking tight.”

You’re still trying to catch your breath when another finger joins the first—and you keen, hips jolting. You try to twist away, but Jinu grabs your throat, pulling you back against him like a tether snapping taut. “Don’t run, kitten,” he murmurs darkly. “You’ll take what we give you.”

And then the rhythm starts.

Haneul curls his fingers inside you—dragging, pulsing, invading. Your hips buck as the pleasure spikes, sharp and overwhelming. Your walls flutter, helpless to resist. Jinu holds you in place like a living chain, and your legs begin to shake from the sheer intensity.

Seoha and Hwimori groan, their mouths never leaving your chest, sucking and biting, marking you like they need proof that you’re real. That you’re here. That you’re theirs.

“So wet,” Haneul growls, fingers thrusting harder now, deeper, smarter. “Like you’ve been waiting for this.” His fingers curl again—and this time, it shatters you. Your back bows like a bowstring pulled to its limit.

“Oh god—” you cry, trembling violently.

Haneul’s mouth covers your clit, licking with the desperation of a dying man. Worship. Destruction. Hunger. His fingers never slow—each drag a calculated sin. “Found it,” he purrs against your core. “Right there. That’s your weakness, isn’t it, princess? Let me break you open with it.”

Tears spill from your eyes—tears of shock, pleasure, need. Jinu growls and captures your lips, swallowing your sob like a vow. His tongue invades your mouth, rough and wild, as he rocks his hips up into your back—letting you feel the full weight of his desire pressing into your spine.

“She’s close,” Hwimori pants beside you. His voice sounds wrecked.

And then—you see him. Seungho. A shadow. A storm. A demon forged in ruin. He approaches slowly, and the sight of him knocks the breath from your lungs. His eyes are aflame. The bulge in his pants is obscene, straining. But it’s his expression that makes your pulse spike.

He kneels beside Haneul—silent, deadly. You don’t know what he’s about to do until his hand lifts— And presses down on your lower abdomen. Firm. Unrelenting. The pressure makes you wail.

Your walls clench around Haneul’s fingers like a vice, your thighs locking around his head—but he doesn’t stop. He groans into you, fingers and tongue now in perfect tandem, unrelenting in their devotion to your unraveling.

Seungho watches you. Watches the desperation in your eyes, the tears, the panic, the surrender. “You’ll fall apart for us,” he growls low, pressing down just a fraction more. “We want to watch you break.”

Your fingers claw at Seoha’s forearm and Hwimori’s wrist. You can feel Jinu biting at your neck again. The air is thick with sweat, panting, the sound of your slick echoing with every thrust of Haneul’s fingers.

And then— You detonate.

The coil in your stomach snaps with brutal intensity and you scream—a sound pulled from your soul and carried across centuries. It echoes through the room like prophecy. Your vision whites out. You shatter—like glass caught in the crosswinds of your past lives. Like every moment you were ever separated from them has come rushing back in fire.

You don’t know where your body ends and theirs begin. But you know one thing: You are theirs.

And they will never let you go. Not in this life. Not in the next. Not even in death.

“Good girl,” Jinu growls into your ear, breath ragged, as your scream fades into a broken, trembling whimper.

“That’s it,” Hwimori whispers, brushing your damp hair back from your face, his forehead pressed gently to your temple. “Come for us, baby. You did so well…”

“You were perfect,” Seoha murmurs, voice velvet-slick and reverent as his lips kiss the trail of tears on your cheeks. “So fucking perfect. That’s our girl.”

“You took it all,” Haneul rasps between your thighs, lips still shining with your release, voice dark and ruined with awe. “Just like that. All for us.”

Their praise wraps around you like silk ribbons. Tethering. Claustrophobic. Divine.

Your body trembles as you sag into Jinu’s arms, heart thundering so hard it hurts. Your vision pulses—blurs at the edges like you’re underwater. And then—

Your eyes flash open. But they’re not the same. The world swims in red. You blink once. Twice. And everything shifts.

Threads.

Crimson threads, glowing, humming—stretching from your chest like living veins of fate. Five of them. Writhing. Pulling. Binding. Each one connects you to the demons who now stare down at you with wide eyes, breath halted. They feel it too. A sharp inhale cuts through the silence like a blade drawn clean from its sheath.

“She’s—” Seoha chokes.

“Her eyes…” Hwimori whispers.

You gasp. You can see the soulbond. You can feel it in your bones—burning, sacred, ancient. As if your blood had been waiting for this moment across lifetimes. It rushes through you like lightning on open water, cracking you apart from the inside.

The bond snaps into place like a lock turning in a door you didn’t know existed. But not all of it. Not completely just yet. You sob, overwhelmed. There’s too much in your chest—devotion, obsession, love.

The boys surround you instantly, their touches softer now, voices turning worshipful. “You’re glowing,” Jinu breathes, holding you tighter.

“She’s ours,” Haneul says, almost reverently, like he’s speaking a prayer. Seoha cups your face in trembling hands. “You feel it too, don’t you, darling? The bond. The promise. The truth of us.”

“It’s okay,” Seungho soothes, lips brushing your knuckles. “We’re here. We’re not going anywhere. Just breathe.”

But you can’t. It’s all too much. You reach for one of them—any of them—but your fingers tremble too hard. Your vision tunnels. Your mouth opens—but no words come.

The last thing you see is Seungho, standing above you like a shadow cast by the past, eyes wide and haunted. “She’s passing out—”

And then you go still. Your head falls against Jinu’s chest, lashes fluttering shut. The soulbond sings in your blood. And you fall into unconsciousness cradled in the arms of demons who have waited lifetimes to bring you home.

────────── ⚘ ──────────

The first thing you feel is warmth. Then pressure. Then breath.

You stir, the world a blur of color and heat—and the steady rhythm of a heartbeat- Strong and steady- surrounding you. You blink through the haze, vision slowly focusing on the soft, amber glow flickering from the room’s sconces, and realize you’re not lying down. You’re in someone’s arms.

Jinu’s.

You’re cradled in his lap, your head tucked beneath his chin, his strong arms wrapped tight around your frame like he’d fused you to him in your sleep. His scent—earth and sandalwood and something darker, ancient—floods your senses. He’s shirtless, and the heat of his bare chest radiates into you.

You blink again. They’re all here.

Seoha was seated at your side, his hand gripping yours like a lifeline. Hwimori, crouched at the edge of the bed, his hair falling forward as he watches you like a silent sentinel. Haneul leans against the wall, fists clenched at his sides, the muscle in his jaw twitching. Seungho is seated at the foot of the bed, elbows on knees, shirt discarded, glowing eyes locked on your face like they’re drinking in every breath you take.

None of them had slept in the two hours you had been unconscious.

“You’re awake,” Jinu breathes, his voice cracking at the edges. His grip tightens possessively. “You scared us.”

Seoha leans closer, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. “Do you remember what happened?”

Hwimori’s eyes flick across your features, searching. “How do you feel?”

You swallow, your voice barely a whisper. “I feel… amazing.”

It’s not a lie. You felt great. As if the bond had healed any fatigue and grogginess. It’s just not the whole truth.

They visibly relax—only slightly. Seungho exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. Haneul’s head drops forward, but his eyes never leave yours.

“You passed out,” Seoha says softly. “You glowed.”

“You were thrumming with power,” Hwimori adds. “The bond reacted. Too strong, too fast.”

Jinu nuzzles your temple. “Are you sure you’re okay, baby?”

“I am.” You nod to ease their worry. You look down to see that you were draped in someone’s shirt- Haneul’s. But that was the only thing you had on. Your cheeks flush. “Did—did someone…?”

Seoha nods, his expression tender. “We cleaned you. Down there.”

You glance down, embarrassed.

“You were trembling,” Hwimori adds gently. “We just wanted you comfortable.”

A wave of love rolls over you—and something else. That hum again. It’s a strange pull. You look at each of them, your heart stuttering. Shirtless, glowing eyes, all of them so achingly beautiful in the low light. Jinu’s body beneath you is all sharp lines and broad strength. Seoha’s chest rises and falls with quiet restraint, lean and cut like a sculpture. Hwimori’s frame is deceptively strong, his arms lean with muscle and his collarbone dusted with faded marks of tension. Haneul’s muscles are coiled like a predator ready to strike, his arms flexing with each breath. And Seungho—Seungho looks like wrath carved into devotion, the angles of his body rigid with something close to pain.

You’re starting to love them. Every inch. But something is missing. Something tugs at your soul, unfinished. Like you’ve walked through the door, but not stepped inside. You had felt nearly complete a while ago. A euphoric feeling of connection to them as the bond strengthened. But deep inside you knew there was something missing.

You blink up at them. “Can I… ask you something?”

They tense. “Anything,” Jinu says, voice low.

Your eyes dart to each of them. You’re certain this was it. The missing piece. “I need to see you. All of you. As you really are.”

The silence is immediate. Their gazes darken. Jinu’s arms tense. Seoha’s smile falters. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” Haneul mutters.

Hwimori’s fingers twitch. “We’re not… safe. Not in those forms.”

You shake your head. “Please. I need to. The bond—it’s not whole. Not yet. I can feel it.”

Jinu presses his forehead to yours, a low growl in his throat. “If you’re scared, even for a second—”

“I won’t be.”

You take each of their hands, one by one.

“I want to see you,” you whisper. “All of you. Not just the masks… please.”

Seoha’s jaw clenches. “Even if we look like monsters?”

“You never have.”

Something breaks in them. And then it begins. Shadows ripple. The air thickens as their skin darkens—not into black or red, but a rich, violet-blue hue etched with glowing marks and patterns, sigils carved into flesh like ancient poetry. Amber eyes burn brighter, like lanterns in a storm. Their veins pulse violet. Their presence swells until it chokes the room, not painful—but potent. Electric.

You gasp, tears welling. This is what they’ve been keeping from you? How in the world could they ever think you could despise them?

They’re terrified. Seoha won’t meet your eyes. Jinu looks frozen. Haneul’s teeth are clenched so tight they could shatter. Seungho—your dark blade—his jaw trembles.

You trace the patterns of Jinu- the one closest to you. His eyes flutter shut at the light feel of your fingertips on his face. You marvel at him, at who he truly is. What all of them really were. One by one, you place your palms on their chests, feel the warmth of demon markings, trace them like scripture. You lean forward and press a kiss to Seoha’s throat. To Hwimori’s chest. To Haneul’s ribs. To Seungho’s stomach. To Jinu’s heart.

“You’re beautiful.”

A silence washes over the room as they freeze. Like you’ve said something impossible. Something forbidden. Jinu’s breath catches in his throat. Seoha goes utterly still. Haneul looks away. Hwimori’s shoulders tense. Seungho clenches his jaw so tight you hear it crack.

“You don’t have to lie to us,” Jinu murmurs, almost too softly. “Not about this.”

“We know what we are,” Haneul mutters, eyes fixed on the floor. “We’ve seen the way humans look at us like we’re monsters.”

“We are monsters,” Seungho says hollowly, his amber eyes flickering with something unreadable.

You step forward—heart burning, soul alight. “Then let them call you monsters,” you whisper, voice trembling with truth. “Because if you are, then you’re mine. Every shadow, every scar, every part you were taught to hide—give it to me. I won’t run.”

They stare at you in shock and disbelief. As if your words were too good to be true.

So you prove it. You go to Hwimori first, his demon form trembling under your touch. You lift your fingers to his jaw, brushing over the gleaming marks that curve over his cheek. “You always feel everything I feel. You carry my pain like it’s your own. You’re not a monster, Hwi. You’re my mirror.”

He shudders, eyes wide and glassy. A soft, disbelieving sound escapes him as he clutches your hand to his chest like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

Next, you move to Seoha. His body is coiled like he’s ready to run, even as need burns behind his eyes. You press a kiss to the swirling pattern that stretches down his sternum, then another to the hollow of his throat. “You’ve always seen me. You make me feel like every word I say matters. You’re not just a fantasy I want to live in—you’re the truth I want to wake up to.”

He exhales like he’s collapsing, hand gripping your wrist so tightly it almost hurts. But he’s shaking. And in his eyes—hope flickers. Starving and terrified.

You turn to Haneul. He’s still, watching you with guarded hunger. You take his face in your hands, kiss the scarred symbol just beneath his eye. “You protect me like I’m sacred. You always have. Even when it hurts you. This body—these marks—don’t change what you are to me. They just show me what you’d survive for my sake.”

His lips part but no words come. Just breath. Shaking. Desperate. He leans into your palm like a man who’s never been held.

Then—Seungho. You approach him slowly, like he’s an injured beast ready to bolt. But he doesn’t move. You press a kiss to his jaw, to the jagged violet marking there. “I don’t care how cold the world made you. You burn for me. You never stopped burning. And I see it now—in every inch of your skin.”

His head tilts back. His throat bobs with a strangled sound.

And finally—Jinu. He hasn’t moved. His demon form still and regal like a statue carved from midnight flame. But his eyes—the gold in them is molten. You walk into his arms. Press your lips to the curve of his collarbone, to the streaks that glow over his chest like ribbons of power and pain.

“You’ve always carried the weight of the world, haven’t you?” you whisper. “Even then, you bore it in silence. I know what you think… that you failed me. That you failed your family. That you’re cursed to lead, but never protect.”

Your fingers trace a glowing line that pulses against his heart.

“But you’re wrong.” You look up at him, eyes soft but unrelenting. “You didn’t fail me. You found me. Again and again. And maybe the world worships you now for your voice, your beauty, your power… but I worship you for surviving.”

He exhales shakily. His arms wrap around you like he’s trying to hide you in his skin. “You’re beautiful,” you whisper again, to all of them. “All of you.”

They break. Seoha moans like he’s unraveling. Hwimori buries his face into your neck. Haneul groans like he’s in pain. Seungho whispers your name like a litany, like a curse, like a vow. Jinu cups your face and stares at you like he’s found the meaning of eternity.

The bond thrums—bright and breathless. It pulses between your ribs like sacred fire. And then— They descend. Kisses like oaths. Hands like hunger. Worship like war.

“You’re ours,” Jinu breathes against your jaw, voice cracked with yearning.

“And we’re yours,” Seungho growls into your throat.

“You made us real,” Seoha murmurs into your chest.

“You made us whole,” Haneul says, pressing his lips to your shoulder.

“You chose us,” Hwimori whimpers, holding your waist like you’ll vanish.

Lips map your skin like scripture. Tongues trace every place you’ve ever ached. Teeth leave promises where words would fail. You’ve seen them now. And you’ve never wanted anything more. The crimson threads pulse—harder. Thicker. Glowing with a sacred hunger. And then it hits you. Not just the tenderness. Not just the love.

But heat. Ache. Need. A raw, consuming ache blazes through your gut. Not emotional—carnal. It’s visceral, physical. It crashes into you like lightning. Your knees buckle and your eyes snap open—glowing red again, brighter this time. Like a fire finally given oxygen. “I—” Your voice shatters. A desperate gasp. “I… need—”

They’re on you instantly. A blur of breathless movement. The boys crowd close, drawn to you like moths to flame. Their eyes glow, their skin still alight with markings and pulsing power.

“It’s the bond,” Jinu says, voice low, reverent. His eyes burn. “It’s calling us. You’re feeling all of us now.” Their bare skin brushes yours and it feels like fire. Every graze stokes the need until it’s unbearable—devouring. You clutch at Jinu’s chest, panting. “Please. I need you. All of you. I can’t— I can’t hold it in.”

Growls. Gasps. Groans. The air thickens as hands descend on you once more. “You’re trembling,” Seoha breathes, palm at your ribs. “You ache for us.”

“You want to be filled,” Seungho mutters darkly. “You want us inside you.”

“She’s dripping already,” Haneul grins from the bed’s edge, fangs bared. “Fuck, she was made for us.”

Jinu lifts you effortlessly, laying you down on the bed like a sacred offering. His gaze flicks to the others—and they understand immediately. It would be him first. Of course. The one who made the pact. The one who waited the longest— across lifetimes. The one who sold his soul first to find you again.

His hands trail up your torso like devotion made flesh. “I knew you in every life, kitten. But this one… this one is ours to claim.” He leans in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s sinful—filthy—holy. Then he slowly peels Haneul’s shirt off your frame, eyes devouring every inch of skin you bare to him. He drinks in the sight like it’ll never be enough.

Around you, the boys settle in. Seoha lounges on the desk chair, one hand already palming his bulge through his sweats. Hwimori sits at the edge of the bed, his hand curled tight. Haneul lounges on the couch, eyes locked on you like he might jump at any moment. Seungho stands by the wall, breathing hard, his body tense like a live wire.

You know they’re watching. And it doesn’t shame you. It ignites you. You need them here. All of them. Your voice trembles. “Jinu… please. I— I need you. It burns.”

He strokes your jaw, eyes like amber flame. “Where do you need me, baby?”

“Please,” you whimper, arching. “Touch me. I need you. Everywhere.”

Jinu lets out a low, vicious sound as he kisses you again—this time rough, hungry. His teeth graze your lip. Then he drags his mouth down your throat. Between your breasts. He takes one nipple in his mouth and sucks hard—possessive, almost cruel with need. You cry out, your fingers in his hair. “Jinu—! Please, please—”

He groans against your skin. “You sound so good when you beg.”

“You were always mine,” he growls, trailing kisses down your stomach. “But now? Now you’ll feel it.”

When he spreads your thighs, it’s ravenous. He stares at your glistening mound like it’s the center of the universe. “Say it,” he commands, voice dark. “Say this pussy belongs to me.”

You tremble beneath his hands. “Yours,” you gasp. “It’s yours. All yours.”

He chuckles—low, dangerous and thrilled. “Good girl.” Then he descends—and devours. Your hips jerk. A scream tears from your throat. His tongue is everywhere—feasting like a man finally let into heaven.

You writhe, fisting your hands into his hair. He groans at the sensation. “Mmm, you were right, Haneul,” he growls between licks. “I could eat this meal every fucking day.”

“Told you,” Haneul grunts from the couch, hand wrapped tight around his cock. “She tastes sweeter than honey.”

“Sweeter than sin,” Seoha adds, his voice wrecked, his pants tented as he strokes himself slowly, eyes never leaving your body. Hwimori leans in, capturing your hand in his and bringing your knuckles to his lips as Jinu continues his relentless onslaught. You’re shaking, drowning.

And then Jinu adds a finger. Then another. You moan—loud, uncontrollable, broken. “So fucking tight,” he hisses. “How the hell are you going to take me, baby?”

You sob, gasping. “Jinu—please—I—”

He doesn’t stop. His tongue laves over your clit. His fingers curl inside you—relentless, wicked, perfect. He eats you like a starving man.

“Such a good girl,” Hwimori whispers.

“She’s going to fall apart again,” Seungho mutters, hand moving faster.

“So close,” you gasp, voice cracking.

“Come for us, baby,” Seoha breathes.

You do. With a cry, you shatter. Eyes glowing crimson, back arching, fists tugging at Jinu’s hair as he moans into your climax and keeps going. He only slows once you’ve ridden out the full shock of it.

Then he kisses up your body—your stomach, your chest, your collarbone—before reaching your throat. “You’re divine like this,” he murmurs against your skin.

“And you’re ready,” Seungho breathes.

You barely have time to catch your breath before Jinu rises above you, sweat-slicked and shirtless, muscles tight with restraint. The sharp planes of his torso glisten under the low, golden light—every ridge and carved hollow painted with glowing demon markings, coiling across his blue-purple skin like ancient scripture. His chest heaves. His abs ripple as he pants, hunger carved into every line of him.

And then— You watch in need as his fingers curl around the waistband of his sweatpants. That massive bulge has haunted your fantasies, but now, as he pulls them down and his length springs free, your breath catches audibly. Your mouth parts in stunned, trembling awe.

He’s huge.

A jolt of nerves crackles through your chest. How is that supposed to fit? Jinu watches your reaction with a quiet, dark satisfaction—like he knew you’d doubt it.

Around you, the others react. Seoha moves to your side and presses a kiss to your temple, his voice a warm balm laced with obsession. “You were made for us, baby. You were always meant to take him. To take all of us.”

“You’re ours,” Haneul grunts, palming himself shamelessly as he watches. “Every inch of you. We’ll make sure you remember that.”

“You’ll stretch around him,” Seungho mutters, voice hoarse. “You’ll cry, and you’ll beg, and we’ll fill you until you forget anyone else ever existed.”

Hwimori just watches you with wide, trembling eyes—devotion, awe, need burning in their depths.

Jinu doesn’t take his eyes off you. He lifts your thighs onto his forearms, bending over you like a predator staking his claim. Then he leans in and devours your mouth, tongue plunging, hungry and wet. When he breaks the kiss, he whispers, “Just relax, baby. Let me in.”

You nod, breath shaky. He slides his fingers into yours, entwining them, and pins them down beside your head—locking you in, body and soul. “Eyes on me,” he murmurs, amber gaze glowing. “Do you trust me?”

You nod again. Trembling. He pushes forward. Your mouth parts in a soft, shocked gasp. The thick head splits you open slowly, deliciously. Your walls clench instinctively, unsure, overwhelmed. Your nails dig into his hands as you whimper.

“Fuck,” Jinu groans, head dipping, eyes fluttering shut at the first feel of you. “You’re gripping me like you were made for this.”

You gasp, voice shaking. “J-Jinu—”

“I know,” he whispers. “I know, kitten. Just breathe. Let me in.”

The stretch is maddening. Your thighs shake. The pain flares, sharp and real—but there’s want in it. Need. “You’re doing so well, my love,” Seoha calls from the bed’s edge, his voice breaking with emotion.

“So fucking good,” Seungho pants, stroking himself slowly. “Look at her. Taking him like that.”

“Hold her, hyung,” Haneul says. “She’s our girl. She needs this.”

Jinu kisses the corner of your eye as the tears spill. “You can take it. You’re my good girl. You were meant for me.”

You cry out as he presses deeper—so deep.

“I’m halfway in,” he breathes.

“Halfway?” you rasp, disbelief in your tone.

His groan is animal. “Gripping me like a fucking vice—fuck—how are you this tight?” He thrusts deeper, and you arch, mouth open in a silent scream. His shoulders flex above you, every muscle drawn tight. He leans down, taking your nipple into his mouth again as he rocks forward—finally, finally bottoming out. Both of you moan, trembling. It feels like something ancient has clicked into place. Like puzzle pieces reuniting after centuries.

“You feel…” Jinu groans, nearly choking on the words. “You feel like fucking home.” He kisses your tears away, voice shaking with reverence. “I’ve waited 400 years for this. To claim you. To fill you. You don’t even know how long I’ve suffered for this moment.” He stills inside you, letting you adjust. His kisses trail your cheek and your jaw. You’re trembling beneath him, tears drying on your skin—but the fire inside you burns brighter now.

“I’m going to move, baby.”

You nod, breath catching. “Please.”

He pulls out almost entirely—just the head stretching you—and slams back in. You yelp. Loud. Good heavens for all that is holy. Your head snaps back into the pillows. He groans, jaw clenching, hips working slow and steady. “So wet. So fucking tight. This pussy was made for me.”

Each thrust is deeper, harder. His hips roll with control, with rhythm, with claim. You sob with pleasure. He watches you break—eyes glowing amber, demon markings pulsing along his arms and chest. His control starts to crack. His movements sharpen.

He lets go of your hand and wraps one large hand around your throat—not squeezing, just holding. Possessive. Anchoring. “Mine,” he growls with each thrust. “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

Your nails claw at his back as he devours you from the inside. There’s nothing gentle left. Just raw, desperate need. His hips slam into yours with a deafening slap, one after the other. He owns you. Body, soul, and destiny.

The pressure in your belly coils tighter. A fire rising. “J-Jinu—” you gasp, barely able to breathe. “I— I’m close—!”

“I know, baby,” he grunts, his pace faltering. Sweat drips from his jaw. “So am I.”

Your hand claws at his wrist as the pleasure builds into agony. The sound of skin slapping, his low groans, your mewls—they fill the room. You’re on the edge. Every thrust of his cock into you feels like a lightning strike of pleasure, striking deep into your bones. It’s all so much. Too much. You shut your eyes tight at the feeling.

“Eyes on me, beautiful,” Jinu growls, forehead pressing to yours, hips pounding into you. “Don’t look away. Watch me while I make you mine.”

You do. You look into those blazing amber eyes, and it breaks you. You scream as your climax shatters through you, your body trembling violently around him. Your walls pulse, clench, milk him. Stars shine at the flutter of your eyelids as you reach your peak.

“Fuck—!” Jinu roars. He thrusts like a madman. Once, twice, and then slams into you one last time—deep—and spills himself inside you.

Hot. Endless. Claiming.

“Take it,” he breathes, his voice shaking with ecstasy and reverence. “Take all of me. You were made for me. Made for me to love. To worship. To fill.”

His hips keep moving, shallow and slow, working every last drop into your womb. “I waited centuries for this,” he groans into your neck, still rocking. “You’re mine. My soul. My everything.” His kisses rain over your cheeks, your eyelids, your lips. You whimper under him, body trembling with aftershocks.

The bond hums between you, molten and eternal. You don’t just feel him inside your body. You feel him in your soul. Jinu’s chest heaves against yours, every inch of his skin pressed to your slick, trembling body. He stays rooted deep inside you, refusing to let even a drop of him spill.

He holds you like he’s trying to imprint his shape into you. His lips find your temple, warm and sweet. “You did so well for me,” he whispers, breath shaky, voice wrecked with love and possessive pride. “Took me so perfectly, just like I knew you would.”

“Fuck…” Haneul’s voice cracks as he fists himself from where he’s leaned against the wall. His topaz eyes bore into you as he spills into his own hand, grunting your name through clenched teeth. “So perfect. So fucking perfect.”

“Always knew you’d be ours,” Seungho pants, His crimson-stained gaze never leaves your face. “Took him like you were born for it. Like your body’s just… ours.”

Jinu presses his forehead to yours. “You’re such a good girl for me… for all of us.” You shiver as he slowly pulls his hips back just a little, still buried in you, just to feel the way your walls tighten instinctively around him again. He groans deep in his chest.

Hwimori purrs, his hands still sticky where he’s come beside you, quiet moans escaping him as he presses his forehead to your shoulder from behind. “You smell like us now… like him. I love it. I love you.”

Seoha grunts softly from the desk chair, hips rolling into his hand one final time before he spills with a hiss. “That face you made when you came—fuck, baby. You’ll break me.”

You smile sleepily, deliriously. Your body aches, your skin glows, and your heart feels heavy in the best way. They were yours, and you’d take them soon. You were claimed. Adored. Bound.

Jinu finally pulls out with a low growl, the thick drag of him from your oversensitive walls making your breath hitch. He watches the mess drip from you with pride, then leans in to press a final kiss to your navel—his palm spread wide over your lower belly like he’s branding you. “My mark,” he murmurs.

Before the emptiness can settle, Hwimori gathers you into his arms like a child’s favorite toy, protective and warm. He cradles you against his chest, seating you between his legs on the bed, your back against his bare torso. He buries his face in your neck and sighs.

Seoha leans in to kiss your temple. “You’re glowing, sweetheart.”

Seungho presses a kiss to your wrist, eyes locked onto your fluttering pulse. “We’ll never let you go now.”

You hear the faucet running in the other room. “Haneul’s drawing you a bath,” Seoha whispers. “We want to take care of you, baby. You gave us everything.”

And just like that, you close your eyes. Wrapped in warm skin, whispers of obsession, and five pairs of eyes that would tear the world apart just to keep you here—where you belong.

TO BE CONTINUED

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A/N: So... I hope you guys enjoyed this! For the ovulating girlies, next chapter will also have smut so each boy gets their fill. Also- pls don't come for me for the breeding stuff- (Wrap it up, folks!) but c'mon, Jinu waited 400 years for this ain't no way he'll use protection lol. Also their obsessive need to claim pours into this need so yeah, I didn't think it necessary. BUT IRL PLS WRAP IT UP IF U CAN SAFETY FIRST. 400 years this demon has been celibate so...

Let me know if you guys enjoyed this! Next chapter has smut but also intimate fluff and the plot rolls again as well.

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designerpvssy · 3 months ago

Text

The gluttonous kento nanami ★

Tw¡; smut, overstimulation, piv sex, oral (fem receiving) Implied marathons, mdni.

Now, when it came to kento, he was always very well composed and collected, never acted out of character or lost his composure even when facing the utmost disrespect.

Always so kind and considerate, giving more than he takes, he was such a gentleman and would make any girl swoon with his signature polite smile, There really weren't any flaws to him, he was literally the definition of gentleman in every sense of the word-

But oh, only if they knew there was nothing 'gentle' about him when he'd come home from a long day at work with you solely on his mind, his pretty little wife, He'd think to himself as he feasted on your cunt like a man who's thirst needed to be quenched.

The living room echoing with your cries and sobs of pleasure, tears running down your cheeks as pleas of, "it's too much!" or "n-no more!!" leaving your lips, you've honestly lost count of how many times you've came already, The couch cushions beneath your ass were soaked, your mess and and slick all over it, the soaked mess matching the one on nanami's face.

Oh well, he'll just have to replace the couch again, he thinks to himself as he makes you squirt for the umpteenth time, Your slick dripping down his face, your thighs and onto the already soaked fabric of the couch.

It's only then he's decided to strip off his slacks, moving his hands to press your knees against your chest as he positions his hefty length at your drooling entrance, meeting your teary eyes just as he begins to push inside, His head falling back with a groan at the warmth that practically swallows him, Sobs and whimpers leaving you at the intense stretch, swearing all the time that you could feel him in your guts, stirring your insides with every thrust.

By now, kento forgot how many rounds there's been, solely focusing on the way his cock disappears in your cunt as he now plows into you from behind, a hand on the back of your neck to press your face into the cushions and the other pressing down on the center of your back to make you keep the deep arch he put you in.

Cooing at you softly at your shaky pleas, saying, "shh, it's ok, just a-a bit more, you can take it, take it for your husband" praising you between grunts and groans, "s-such a good little wife, fuck, you're perfect" his soft praises and encouragement paled in comparison to the way he was pounding into you mercilessly, like a man starved and deprived even though his hunger was stated hours ago-

But he wanted, no, he needed more, he could never get enough of his pretty wife, and that's ok, he'll just take what you can give<3 (and more)

Kento nanami, the man of control and composure, was also a man of glutton.

💗Skyy's notes xoxo: hi!! This was a bit longer than I thought it would be lol, but this is for the "ten forbidden desires" event by my lovely mootie @merakidoll <33

#jujutsu kaisen #mdni #jjk smut #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk #jjk nanami #*.✧𝓣𝓱𝓮𝓮𝓹𝓿𝓼𝓼𝔂𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓵𝓸𝓰✧.*#— ten desires event! ˚ෆ 𐙚

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shyoko · 2 months ago

Text

✧ Accidentally sent a dirty message to another member. ✦༺⊹

This writing is my own; no copies, adaptations, or translations are allowed. I hope you like it. 𓂃

✦ 4.0K words * Masterlist˚ Taglist✧ Requests “Open”₊‧ ✦𓂃

enhypen x fem!reader ⚠️ cw: NSFW / +18 — rough sex, jealousy, possessive behavior, light choking, wall sex, hair pulling, spanking, dirty talk, slight humiliation, intense kissing, marking (hickeys), sex in the shower. Minors DNI. Read responsibly.

✧ Heeseung ----------

It was noon. Heeseung had texted you from work, telling you that the day was turning into a complete nightmare. His message was short, but you could feel the exhaustion in his words: "I can't take it anymore. I'm done with everything today."

You sighed, imagining him in his studio, his head full of stress. You wanted to cheer him up. And you knew exactly how.

You got off the couch, walked to the mirror, and took a picture — nothing vulgar, but definitely bold. Provocative. Sexy. Perfect to lift his spirits and remind him that when he got home, he’d have something far better than work waiting for him.

You sent it without double-checking.

Seconds later... your world froze.

Sunghoon replied with: "…" followed by "Was this meant for me?"

You froze. You opened the sent message... and there it was. Your photo. Sent to Sunghoon.

Your hand flew to your mouth. Your heart pounded. You tried to delete the message, but it was too late. The damage was done.

And then your phone rang. It was Heeseung.

"Are you kidding me?" he said as soon as you answered, his voice deep, tense, furious. "Did you send that picture to Sunghoon?"

"No! It was a mistake, I swear… it was meant for you…"

"I’m leaving work. You better have answers when I get home."

He hung up.

You stood there in silence, gripping your phone, feeling the burn of shame mixing with the fear of what would come next.

An minuts later, you heard the door slam. Heavy footsteps approached. He walked straight to you, not saying a word. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, his eyes dark and intense.

He stopped in front of you. He didn’t yell. He didn’t ask.

"Give me the phone."

You handed it over with trembling hands. He unlocked it without effort, went straight to the chat with Sunghoon, deleted the message… and then the entire contact.

"You're never talking to him again." His voice was low, trembling with restrained anger.

"Heeseung, it was an accident. I swear..."

He placed the phone on the table, took your face in his hands, and looked at you so deeply you felt the floor disappear under your feet.

"An accident?" he whispered, his rough voice sliding down your spine as his hand moved slowly from your neck to your waist. "Then let me show you how we fix a mistake like that."

Without warning, he pushed you gently against the wall, his mouth crashing onto yours with a mix of fury and desire. He kissed you with hunger, with jealousy, with fire. His hands moved over your body with a possessive firmness, as if he had to reclaim every inch of your skin.

"You're mine," he growled between his teeth, lips brushing yours. "Only I get to see you like this. Only I get to touch you like this."

His mouth moved down your neck, leaving a trail of burning kisses, stopping at your collarbone. He made sure you felt every mark he left. His hands pulled you closer, demanding all of you.

"Do you know how hard it was to hold back all day? And now this..."

His voice trembled between desire and the need to make sure you never forgot who you belonged to.

✧ Jay ----------

You were in the living room, lying on a couch with your phone in hand while the guys chatted animatedly on the other side. Jay was standing, leaning against a table, laughing calmly with Jake and Sunghoon. His voice—so distinctive—had that effect on you: it pulled you in effortlessly.

You bit your lip without realizing it, watching him smile, move, talk. It felt like he hadn’t looked at you in hours, so focused on that conversation. You crossed your legs and sighed... You wanted to tease him a little.

So you opened your gallery and picked a photo—one of those only he was supposed to see. Nothing explicit, but suggestive, intimate… with a look that said everything your words didn’t. You smiled mischievously and sent it directly as a private message.

Or so you thought.

Seconds later, something felt off. Jake stopped talking, looked at his phone… then looked at you. He said nothing, but his eyes said it all. You swallowed hard. Checked your phone.

You had sent the photo to Jake.

Your heart stopped.

Jay noticed Jake’s reaction and leaned in to see the phone. His expression changed instantly. The muscles in his jaw tensed, and his eyebrow slowly raised.

"What is that?" he asked quietly, though everyone heard him.

Jake raised his hands, uncomfortable. "I… it wasn’t meant for me."

Jay turned to you, his eyes locked onto yours. He said nothing. Walked slowly toward where you were, while you tried to say something—but your tongue felt like stone.

"You were going to send that to me… but you sent it to Jake?" he said softly, in a tone that chilled your blood.

"It was a mistake… Jay, really, it wasn’t for him…" you whispered, feeling the shame rise to your ears.

But he didn’t answer.

He just grabbed your arm, firmly but not hurting you, and led you out of the room. No one said a word. Only his footsteps and your shaky breathing could be heard.

You entered his room, and he shut the door behind him forcefully.

He slowly let go of you, but his gaze stayed locked on yours.

"Do you know how I felt seeing that photo on someone else’s phone?" he asked hoarsely, holding back something more than anger.

"Jay, it was an accident. I swear…" you said, stepping closer.

"I don’t like it when you play with me." His voice was low, his words came out slowly, like he was deciding whether to hold back or give in.

Then he stepped forward, took your face in one hand, firmly, like he needed to make sure you were only looking at him.

"That photo was mine. Do you know how it felt to imagine Jake seeing you like that?"

His lips crashed into yours suddenly. The kiss was deep, burning, full of unspoken demand. It wasn’t sweet. It was possessive. Like he needed to prove you were still his.

His hands traveled down your waist as his body guided you back, pressing you against the door. His breath was hot against your neck as he moved down and left a slow, teasing, firm hickey.

"I’m going to mark you, so you won’t forget. No one else has the right to see you like this. No one."

Your legs trembled under his touch. His mouth returned to yours, this time slower, more intense. Jay’s hands slid down your hips with intent, while his lips burned with the same desire you had tried to awaken… and that now threatened to consume you completely.

✧ Jake ----------

You had a quiet day. Jake hadn’t texted you much, but you knew he was with Ni-ki—like he always was lately. You didn’t give it too much thought. You got comfortable on the couch, turned the TV on in the background, and grabbed your phone.

You missed him. Much more than you wanted to admit.

After a few minutes of thinking, you started writing him something. Something you knew would make him smile... or maybe something more. The message was bold, direct. You told him exactly what you wanted to do to him that night. How you were going to kiss him, touch him, ride him slow, and tease him until he begged you to let him come.

You bit your lip, amused by your own daring. And you sent it.

But seconds later, your screen hit you like a slap.

Ni-ki: "…Was this meant for me?"

Your heart stopped.

You opened the chat.

Yes. You had done it. Your dirtiest, most explicit message… had been sent to Ni-ki.

Ni-ki. Who was with Jake.

Blood rushed to your face, your hands trembled. You checked everything a thousand times, trying to convince yourself it wasn’t real. But it was.

You texted Jake. Nothing. Another. Silence. Tried calling. No answer.

And then, hours passed.

Until you heard the door open.

It closed with a sharp thud. No voice. No greeting. Just heavy footsteps down the hallway. You watched him as he walked straight into the bedroom.

You didn’t know what to do. You stayed on the couch a few minutes, biting your lip nervously. Then you got up and went after him.

He was lying on his side, back to you, shirt still on. He hadn’t covered himself. He hadn’t moved.

You carefully climbed onto the bed. Quietly approached him. Slowly lifted his shirt. He said nothing. He didn’t pull away.

You started kissing his back, his neck. Slowly. Gently. Almost afraid.

"I’m sorry, Jake… it was a mistake. That message was for you. I swear."

You continued kissing your way down until he suddenly turned and looked at you directly. His eyes were dark, intense. There was pain. There was anger.

He gently grabbed your hair, pulling you close to his face.

"Say it to my face," he whispered. "Was it a mistake? Or are you cheating on me with him?"

You looked him straight in the eyes, without hesitation.

"It was a mistake. I swear. Ni-ki has nothing to do with it. The message was yours. It was always meant for you."

Jake swallowed hard, closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, they were glassy—but he didn’t cry. He kissed you. Suddenly. With hunger. With desperation.

"Fuck… thank god, baby…" he murmured against your lips.

Then he climbed on top of you, kissing you hard, with a mix of desire, relief, and fear. He held your waist tight, trapped you under him like he needed to remind you you were his.

"I thought you’d chosen him," he confessed as he kissed down your neck, reaching your collarbone. "Thought I wasn’t enough anymore."

"Never. It’s you. Only you."

Jake growled, kissing down your stomach with desperate need. He spread your legs, settled between them without saying a word. Only staring into your eyes.

"Then tonight you’re going to remember. You’re going to feel it. Every fucking second."

✧ Sunghoon ----------

It was almost eleven at night. You were alone in your room, body burning, mind lost in a single thought: Sunghoon. You had been secretly seeing each other for a few months. No one in the group knew.

And that made it all the more addictive—this feeling like you were playing with fire.

You missed his body, his cold hands on your skin, the way he looked at you when he lost control. So, caught between need and boldness, you decided to record something.

You slipped under the sheets, pulled down your underwear, and started touching yourself while thinking of him. You let the moans come out—soft, filthy—

You recorded the audio with your eyes closed, skin tingling, heart racing. And you sent it.

Only… it didn’t go to Sunghoon’s chat. It went to Heeseung’s.

You realized it a second later, when the double blue checkmarks appeared under the wrong name.

“No… no, no, no,” you muttered, pale, unlocking your phone like you could undo the inevitable.

Heeseung replied quickly. Way too quickly. First a message:

“Was this for me?”

Then… a video. Short. But explosive. He was in it, panting, shirtless, staring into the camera, whispering:

“Fuck… you don’t know what you do to me… Y/n…”

You almost dropped the phone. The world crashed down on you. Heeseung thought the audio was for him. And now… he was playing along.

You locked your phone, covered your face with your hands, totally frozen. You’d screwed up. Badly.

And the worst part hadn’t even happened yet.

Because Heeseung… told Sunghoon.

Everything. In detail.

He was so excited, so convinced the audio was meant for him, that he showed it without thinking.

Sunghoon didn’t say much. Just enough.

“It was meant for me,” he muttered, jaw tight.

“What? What do you mean—” “You heard me.”

And he left. His face completely twisted by jealousy.

An hour later, he was at your door. He knocked hard. Walked in without saying much. His eyes were burning. He shut the door, looked you up and down, and spoke with a calm so fake it was frightening.

“Did you send it to the wrong chat? Or are you going to tell me you were trying to turn on my best friend?”

“Sunghoon, no! It was a mistake. A stupid mistake. It was for you. I swear…”

But he wasn’t in the mood for speeches. He pushed you against the wall, one hand firm on your waist, the other around your neck—not tight, but enough to make clear who was in control.

“For me? Then prove it.”

He kissed you with fury, with a mix of desire and rage that stole your breath. Lifted you up in his arms, carried you to the bed like you weren’t allowed to walk. Tore your clothes off in one swift move—fast, careless, like he needed to reassert that your body was his.

He climbed on top of you, not letting you escape his gaze.

“Say my name. Like in the audio. But loud this time.”

And you did. Again and again. Screaming.

His thrusts were deep, fast, intense. There was no room for tenderness. It was all skin, moans, fingernails digging in, and teeth on your neck. His hands gripped your hips tightly, forcing you to take every inch.

And in the middle of it all, without slowing down for even a second, he grabbed his phone, unlocked it, and recorded an audio.

“Listen to this, Heeseung,” he whispered into the mic, voice low and hoarse. “That’s how she moans my name.”

He let it record everything. Your moans. The sound of bodies slamming together. Your desperate voice crying out his name like a prayer.

He sent the audio without hesitation. Then dropped the phone to the floor and kissed you again—hard, with tongue, with jealousy.

“You’re mine. Only mine. And if anyone dares think otherwise again, I’ll fuck you even harder. You hear me?”

And it wasn’t a threat. It was a promise.

That night, the world stayed outside your room. There was only Sunghoon—his body, his rage, and that fierce need to make sure no one else touched you.

And you… didn’t want anyone else to, either.

✧ Sunoo ----------

The afternoon had been normal. At least for you.

You had sent Sunoo a sexy photo a few hours ago. Not just a provocative selfie, but one you had taken with clear intention: naked body, perfect angle, eyes staring straight into the camera. You wanted to drive him crazy. You wanted to play with his desire.

But something changed when he got home.

He didn’t say a word. No greeting. No smile. Not even a glance. He just walked past you with a serious face, brows furrowed, jaw clenched. Locked himself in the bedroom and didn’t come out.

“Sunoo?” you called from the living room, confused.

Silence.

You walked up to the half-open door. He was sitting on the bed, phone in hand, staring at the screen like he wanted to shatter it with his eyes.

“Is something wrong?”

Nothing. Not a turn of the head. Not even a different breath.

The anxiety started rising in your chest. You didn’t understand. You hadn’t argued. Nothing strange had happened. At least, that’s what you thought.

“Did I do something? Please, just tell me.”

Then he stood up. Slowly. Eyes dark. Cold.

“You had no idea, did you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The photo. The fucking nude photo you sent to Jay.”

Your body tensed instantly.

“What…? No. That’s not possible. It was meant for you.”

“Well, it went to Jay. And guess who saw it on his screen before he deleted it? I did.”

You were speechless. The world crashed down on you. A wave of shame, fear, guilt—everything hit at once.

“Sunoo… I didn’t know. I swear, it wasn’t on purpose. It was for you. Only for you…”

But he laughed. Dry. Hurt.

“Of course… how convenient. What a lovely little mistake.” He turned toward you, face contorted, emotions finally spilling out. “Do you know what I felt when I saw it? When Jay showed me the notification with that stupid smile on his face?”

“Please… don’t say it like that. That’s not what happened.”

“You broke me,” he whispered. “But the worst part… is that even though it hurts, I still want you like a fool. I still love you, and that pisses me off more than the betrayal itself.”

You stepped closer, but he didn’t move. Until suddenly, he snapped.

He grabbed the back of your neck, eyes glassy, voice trembling.

He kissed you hard. Wild. Broken. His tongue forced its way into your mouth with desperation, with anger. His body slammed into yours, pushing you back against the wall. You could feel his chest rise and fall heavily, like he was on the edge of breaking down.

And then… tears.

His.

Hot. Silent. They fell onto your skin as he kissed you, as his hands moved over your body with a mix of need and bottled-up rage.

You gently pulled back, lips swollen, heart in your throat.

“Are you crying?”

Sunoo lowered his head, trembling.

“It just hurts. Hurts to love you like this. Like an idiot. Thinking I have you, when in reality… I’m not even enough for a damn photo.”

“Don’t say that.” You cupped his face in your hands. “It was a mistake. A fucking mistake. That photo was yours. Only yours. I made it thinking about you. About how you look when you want me. How you moan my name. How you tremble when you touch me.”

He looked at you, breathing hard.

“Say it again.”

“Only you, Sunoo. No one else.”

His expression shattered. Completely.

“Then prove it. Right now.”

And you did.

You led him to the bed. You knelt before him. You worshipped him. You cherished him like he was the most precious thing in the world.

Your lips moved down, your tongue traced over his skin everything words couldn’t express.

And him—with fingers tangled in your hair and teary eyes—could only whisper your name over and over again like a desperate prayer.

✧ Jungwon ----------

That afternoon, you had been trying on the lingerie Jungwon had given you a few days ago. It was beautiful. You looked good, you felt confident… and you knew he would love to see you like this.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, smiled to yourself, and took a picture. It was provocative. The lighting was perfect, your expression even more so. It was exactly the kind of image Jungwon loved—intimate, yours, made just for him.

You added a little message to go with it:

“Look how what you bought me fits… do you like it?”

And without thinking too much about it, you sent it.

A bit later, you went into the bathroom, undressed, and stepped into the shower, enjoying the hot water running down your body. You closed your eyes, letting yourself relax, until you heard the bathroom door swing open.

You jumped.

“Why did you send that photo to Sunoo?” came Jungwon’s deep voice.

You turned around in shock, heart pounding. He was standing there, completely serious, phone in hand, jaw clenched.

“What? What are you talking about?” you asked, disoriented.

“The photo. Your message. You sent it to Sunoo’s chat.” His gaze was intense—hard, hurt.

Your face turned red instantly.

“No! No… Jungwon, it wasn’t for him. I swear. It was meant for you. I sent it to the wrong chat…”

There was a moment of silence. Then, he set the phone down on the counter, his eyes never leaving you.

“A mistake, huh?” he said as he slowly took off his shirt.

Your breathing quickened.

“Jungwon…”

He unbuttoned his pants, slid them down calmly, and removed the rest of his clothes. All of it with a tense, controlled energy that made the air between you vibrate.

He opened the shower door and stepped inside without another word.

The water ran over him, soaking his hair, sliding down his shoulders. He moved toward you, gaze locked, not a single doubt in his eyes.

“Are you sure it was meant for me?” he whispered, so close you could feel his breath on your skin.

“Yes. Only for you,” you murmured, trembling.

He took your face in both hands and kissed you. Hard, intense, desperate. Like he needed to confirm you still belonged to him. His lips moved with urgency, his body pressing you gently against the shower wall.

“Don’t ever make that mistake again,” he whispered between kisses, as his hands slid slowly down your waist, your back, your soaked skin. “Because if anyone else sees you like this…”

His mouth moved down to your neck, stealing your breath, as steam filled the room and his body pressed to yours with a mix of need, jealousy, and desire.

“Only I get to see you like this. Only me.”

✧ Ni-ki ----------

You were in Ni-ki’s room, at the group’s house. He was somewhere else in the building, helping one of the guys with something, and you decided to wait for him… but not just any way.

You put on the lingerie you knew drove him crazy—the black lace one he had picked out with you. You looked at yourself in the mirror, struck a provocative pose, and snapped the perfect photo. You added a clear message:

“I’m waiting for you in your bed… I want you to make me yours tonight.”

You smiled as you sent it. You knew he’d get the message instantly and come find you with that intense look that made you melt.

But your blood ran cold when you saw the reply notification.

It was Jungwon.

“Wow… you look really pretty. But I think you sent this to the wrong person 😅”

Your heart dropped to the floor. You had sent it to the wrong chat. Jungwon had seen it. All of it.

You covered your face with your hands, not knowing whether to laugh in embarrassment or scream in frustration. You tried to explain, sent a quick message—but there was no way to undo what had already been seen.

Minutes later, Ni-ki opened the door.

Slowly. Seriously.

He looked at you with dark eyes, without saying a word. Closed the door behind him firmly as you sat up nervously on the bed.

“Ni-ki…?”

“You sent that to Jungwon?” he asked, voice tense, calm but tight. “He saw you like that?”

“No! It was for you, really. I messed up… I nearly died when I saw it. It was a mistake.”

But he said nothing.

He pulled off his jacket in one swift move. Then his shirt. His breathing was heavy. He looked at you like he was holding back something wild, something ready to break loose.

He came toward you, gripped your face firmly.

“A mistake, huh?” he whispered, bringing his lips close to yours. “Then I’m going to make sure you only moan my name… and Jungwon better hear it.”

He kissed you hard. His body pushed you back onto the bed, eyes locked on yours. His hands moved over your skin with restrained rage, with desire, with total possession. His lips traveled down your neck, leaving marks that burned.

“Spread your legs. I’m going to make sure you never even think about looking at anyone else again.”

And he did. Hard, with passion, with jealousy. Every movement carried one purpose—to leave you breathless and make sure no one else could touch you, not even in your thoughts.

And when you cried out his name, gasping, he smiled against your skin and whispered proudly:

“That’s what I like to hear… let everyone hear it.”

✦A/n: Hii, I really hope you liked it. ILYSM. MWAH!

✦Taglist: @lezleeferguson-120 @nuki-riki @ijustwannareadstuff20 @vvenusoncasual @miellette @enhacolor @xxkatsusjinsux @somieverse @ourshin @han-to-my-minho @douqhnxtss @nuggets4lifers @mitmit01

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