#and i'm dragging that chain with my teeth :))

[blamemma]

daniel ricciardo with a fan at a bar in santa monica | 📅 some point november 2024 | 📸

[oncasette]

𝗣𝗟𝗨𝗦𝗛 𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗞

rafayel qi x fem!reader

summary: 1.7k

“Oh, so now you remember me,” he huffs. You attempt to move the bird out of your arms entirely only for Rafayel to forcefully shove him back in place. “Uh-uh, honey. You wanted him there. Made me second choice to a bird that can’t even see you, so hold on tight to him, yeah?”

or the one where rafayel gets jealous of the stuffed toy you've chosen to hold while you sleep.

content: smut, fingering-ish, cumming with clothed (both), ooc!rafayel? i'm still learning how to write him a bit, jealous!raf, little bit of biting, mentions of humping a stuffed animal, dry humping

masterlist

Rafayel’s eyes ache a bit as he trudges his way out of his studio and towards his bedroom—his ass hurts a bit, too, from sitting so long. His brain seems to short circuit as both of his hands attempt to rub at the sore spots. They seem to glitch mid-air, successfully achieving in reaching neither of the areas. By the time he’s reached his room, his fingers have gone a little tingly.

His body lights up a bit when he spots you on the bed. It’s almost instinctual, the warmth that crawls up his spine, through his ribs. Your face is shoved into his pillow, your legs tangled up in the fluffy duvet he’d bought at your recommendation. The plushie in your arms seems like it's being held hostage. His lips quirk a bit as he watches you squeeze the yellow bird tighter to you at the sound of his entrance. You’d come over a while ago, for dinner, initially, and then to stay the night despite Rafayel’s insistence that he had to finish this painting by the morning. He’s happy to see that you’d listened to his telling you not to stay up for him. 

“Pretty girl,” he mumbles as one of his knees hits the edge of the mattress. One hand falls over your face and pushes a few stray hairs back away from your forehead. He warms again at the feel of you nuzzling into his palm. He pulls back hesitantly after a beat. The rustling seems to be enough to stir you from your slumber.

“Raf?” you mumble, tugging the plush tighter in your grip. 

“Hi, cutie,” he hums as starts to undo the buttons on his shirt. Your gaze, still a bit blurred with sleep, tracks the movement well enough.

“You’ve come back to me,” you purr, stretching your legs out beneath the covers. 

The scoff he lets out is softened by the pout on his lips. “You thought I’d stay away?”

His fingers fiddle with the buckle of his belt and he watches your eyes dilate just a bit. Your tongue slips out to wet your lips. It’s like lightning striking Rafayel, the exhaustion draining from his body in a blink. 

“C’mere, fishy,” you say. Your voice is nearly a whine as it drips down your tongue. 

He shakes his head softly as he yanks the leather through the loops. That gets your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. 

“I would, but…” he drags the last word out as he starts to work at the fly of his pants. “Artsy birb seems to be in my spot.”

“No, he’s not, come here,” you beg but you keep the bird held tight.

“Yes, he is, come on,” he huffs once he’s gotten his pants down his thighs. He reaches for the plush only for you to turn away from him at the last second, pressing your face into the fuzz. Rafayel scoffs. His hands land on his brief clad hips as he stares down at you in disbelief. 

“Cutie…”

“‘m comfy,” you pout. “Just come lay down. He’s not gonna get in the way.”

Rafayel’s eyes narrow. His cock jumps against his already tight boxers. One knee hits the duvet, then the other, then his hands until he’s leering over your prone form. The chain around his neck dangles dangerously close to your skin, bumping and grazing and leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

“Raf?”

Your grip around the plushie loosens, your legs separating instinctively to accommodate his intrusion.

“Oh, so now you remember me,” he huffs. You attempt to move the bird out of your arms entirely only for Rafayel to forcefully shove him back in place. “Uh-uh, honey. You wanted him there. Made me second choice to a bird that can’t even see you, so hold on tight to him, yeah?”

“Hey! He can-“ you’re cut off by your own gasp. Rafayel’s nose nudges along the edge of your shirt, pushing the loose fabric up enough to leave loud open-mouthed kisses along the newly uncovered flesh. 

“What’s that?” he asks against your navel. You respond with little more than a breathy whine, trying to shove the bird away from you once again only to have him hold the stuffed animal to your chest with a firm grip. “What’d I say, cutie?”

He nips you once with the flats of his teeth. As he continues to move, you feel his hips pressing harder against your shin, then your thigh, and finally your hip when his tongue brushes the edge of your nipple. Rafayel doesn’t fight you when you shift the bird down to your side seeing as you’ve still got a tight grip on it with one of your hands. The other curls into his mussed up hair. 

The sight of you stirs Rafayel deeper, despite the speckle of annoyance—jealousy, over a plushie he’d gotten you—still sitting in his stomach. His tongue laves over your skin, circling the bud while he keeps his gaze locked on yours. You let out what, first, he thinks is one of your pretty little gasps, only for it to morph into a yawn halfway. He bites down harder, then, as his eyebrows knit together in displeasure. 

“So, that’s what it is, huh?” he scoffs, moving up your body with much harsher bites and sucks than before. “You don’t love me anymore?”

“No, Raf-“ a real gasp then.

“So mean to me,” he grunts. Still, he can’t help the way his dick grinds down into your hip, or the short pants he lets out against your skin.

“Rafa,” you whine.

He slides up your frame until his face is directly over yours. 

“Shh, beloved, you’ve made your choice,” he whispers. His fingers skate up your side so delicately you barely feel them until they’re dipping into your sleep shorts. 

“Please,” you say just as the tips of them brush the hem of your panties. 

“Hm? Now you want me to give you attention?” he teases. 

Rafayel can see how glazed your eyes have become, now. The way your chest heaves with each new intake of breath. The way your hips jump to meet his touch. That’ll show the stupid bird. 

The pout on your bottom lips has his cock throbbing, a steady pulse he’s sure you can feel. He mimics the gesture down at you as his hand finally breaches the elastic of your underwear. His index finger quickly slides through your slick before it glides back up to press tight circles against your clit. He revels in the short squeak you let out, briefly wondering if he could get you to make the cute sound again into his phone’s microphone. 

“So soft here, cutie,” he huffs as his nose sinks down to run across the edge of your jaw. The chain around his neck pools against your collarbone, the chill of it running straight through to your spine. Almost petulantly, you rut yourself further into his palm, only for him to pull his hand back just enough to release most of the pressure. The layers currently clothing you prevent him from pulling back too far, but it's room enough for you to whimper. It’s only when you’ve settled back down against the mattress that Rafayel begins to move again. This time, with two fingers, he dips down to collect more of the sticky arousal seeping from your neglected hole. You clench at the faint intrusion just as he moves back up to circle your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Despite the–albeit, pitiful–front he’s putting up, Rafayel can’t help his hips from pressing and grinding into your thigh. He wonders, briefly, if you’ve ever used the plush toys he’s won you to get off like this. If you’ve rubbed your puffy clit over them the way he’s currently running his fingers over you. More, he wonders if you’re thinking of him as you do it. He’s the one who won them all for you, afterall. It’d only be fair. 

“You gonna cum for me, cutie?” he pants in your ear, his teeth grazing the shell as he moves. You are. He can tell. You’ve soaked his hand, your thighs are clamped tight around his wrist. The hand previously holding the bird has wound itself around his bicep. He needs it, wants it, craves it like the air he breathes. Every whimper and whine falling from your lips is fuel for his own impending orgasm. 

You nod against him, your eyes screwing shut. He can feel the way your abdomen tightens and his rutting proceeds to quicken against your side. 

“Wanna hear you say it,” he pleads.

“‘M gonna…”

“Come on, I know you can say it for me.” He nips your pulse point.

“Cum… gonna cum,” you pant as your nails dig into the skin of his arm. He’d be smug if he weren’t dangling off the precipice of an orgasm himself.

“Yeah? Then cum for me, honey,” he says. His voice is strained as he attempts to ward his off long enough for you to finish first. Thankfully, his words seem to be the tipping point for you, your head falling back further into the plush pillows as your pussy pulses and gushes against his fingers. Rafayel cums with a low groan, spilling into the silken fabric of his boxers. He continues to work you through it for a moment longer until he no longer feels the residual twitches of your cunt.

“All of that because you were jealous of a stuffed bird,” you hum sleepily. The two of you shift once he removes his hand from your bottoms, you falling over onto your side and Rafayel pushing up onto his haunches to observe the scene. Artsy birb had been pushed onto the floor, his boxers had darkened considerably in a large patch over the head of his cock, and his fingers were still glistening with the remnants of your orgasm. Mission accomplished, he thinks, before he’s slipping off the bed with a chaste kiss to your shoulder. 

He’s quick to clean himself up and change into a more suitable pair of boxers. The chill of the room leaves him shivering up until the moment he’s sliding underneath the covers to pull you into him.

Rafayel’s lips trail across your jaw once more as he mumbles, “I wasn’t jealous.”

“Sure,” you mumble, the allure of sleep calling you back down into its depths once more. 

[fanaticsnail]

Entertain Me

Masterlist here

Word count: 1,800+

Art by @skullfacedlady, who this fic is dedicated to.

Synopsis: He was bored. He was tired. He was... Lonely. What is a giant to do, but make a nuisance of himself before entertainment was given to him by the hands of the wardens who placed him in his chains. And what pretty entertainment you make for him.

Themes: Loki (Elbaf) x f!reader (no pronouns, can be read as afab), oral (reader), dub con, mdni, NSFW, smut, 18+, size difference (large), dark themes (implied cannibalism).

Notes: I am in love with this terrible man.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Rocks shook with each rolling shudder of the giant’s shoulders and spine meeting with the large boulder they were bound to. The banished prince had been placed in his cell to rot in for too long, and solitude had finally begun to consume him. He figured if he was bored, he might as well wreak havoc to the natural flora and fauna population above his confinement by causing a landslide or two with his great strength.

Or, perhaps, something could happen. Something like-... What was happening presently.

The gates of the side of his enclosure had swung wide, a body shoved in, and promptly closed and locked behind them. The smaller figure ran to the gate and screamed to let them out while rattling the bars. Their desperation caused Loki’s brow to arch beneath the bandages before he rose to take a better look at his little guest.

“Oh…? And what is this little runt…” Loki purred with the deep rumble of his thick baritone reverberating throughout the confined prison cell, “...something for me to chew on, perhaps? Something for me to eat?” In a few short strides, Loki approached, his new spark of entertainment, and crouched to bring the figure closer to his large, beaming smile.

“Come now,” he teased, leaning ever closer, “Let me take a closer look at my new little thing, hm? Step closer to me, sweet thing. Let me see what I get to pick out of my teeth later.”

You made yourself as small as you could be. Turning to face him, you sunk back into the bars of the cell and clawed at them in fear. Your hands shook in fear, alongside your lip quivering in petrification. Darting your eyes over his, you came to terms with the man that would be your death.

This was it.

This was where you would be laid to rest. Another skull that the banished prince would sit atop. Another skeleton he would use to pick his teeth with. Another snack he would consume to entertain his solitary confinement, hopefully pleasing him enough to no longer continue to cause damage to the local community above his enclosure by rattling the rockface.

“Do you not talk, little one?” He goaded you, wrapping one of his bound hands around your scantily clad body. Thick fingers easily closed in around your waist as he picked you up to bring you closer. “That's fine. You don't need to talk.” Loki hoisted you up into the air while using his other hand to rip the sheets of material covering your body.

“I just need you to scream.”

“No-!” You yelped while kicking your legs out from under you, “No! No, please-!” Tears welled in your eyes and fled over your lash line as you descended into his mouth. Helplessness overcame you as the giant lulled his tongue out and widened his jaw.

He was going to eat you. The banished prince of Elbaf was going to claim your soul and gnaw on your corpse until you perish. Loki was going to tug your limbs off and destroy the last semblance of yourself you-...

“...-Stop resisting. I'm not going to hurt you,” he barked gruffly up at you. Tugging your legs apart, he chuckled at the position of your exposed cunt quivering over his porus tongue. You shrieked as he placed you atop the slippery surface and dragged you backwards and forwards to settle you. “That's it. Little screams while you ride me.”

“W-While I what?” You scrambled forward, placing your hand on the bridge of his large nose to find ground. “W-What?”

Removing his tongue from your core, he breathed his confession into you with a smoothness you were not expecting from the giant. Careful and intimate whispers were fled from his lips like poetry recited before a betrothed lover, regardless of the content of his words.

“I want you to scream for me. A minor entertainment to me while I waste away beneath the kingdom,” he smiled while gently brushing the tip of his nose over your belly, “You can grind on my tongue and cum in my mouth, or I can fist my cock with you wrapped around it. The choice is yours, little runt. What is it going to be?”

All thoughts of prior consumption for nourishment had left your body, which was now overcome with a new unnerving curiosity. When he ripped your garments from you, you assumed it was due to digestion in his stomach acids - not to place your quivering and sensitive pussy on his body and watch you grind against it to meet your ecstasy. Absolutely not to swipe a tongue that matches the size from the top of your head to your toes, sliding seamlessly between your folds and forcing you towards your climax.

“T-... Tongue,” you whisper, turning your face away from the giant to hide your shame. He chuckled while moving to recline against the rockface he was lying bored against moments prior and settled down with you still in his grip. He took your form in a clawed grip and pressed you against his cheeks, slowly rubbing his face with your smaller frame while inhaling deeply.

“We… Are going to have so much fun together, little one,” he breathed deeply, enjoying the flush of your frightened skin against his revealed flesh, “That’s, if you do a good job.”

You shuddered, bracing your hands out in front of you to stabilise you against his face. At that expression, you gave him a puzzled look and rapidly batted your eyelashes in hasted succession.

“If I-?”

“-You are going to ride my tongue, little one,” he purred with a rasped growl in his tone, “And I am going to sit back and enjoy the show. Go on,” he rolled his shoulders against the pale boulders and lulled his head back on a nook within, “Entertain me.”

Without further warning, he thrust your body against his tongue, spreading your folds apart and dragging the porous surface against your cunt in a tentative lick. He held you firmly and adjusted your hands to perch on his nose and removed his hands completely from your body. Loki splayed himself out to the sides and focussed his breath while you steadied your mount on his tongue.

Furrowing your brows, you slowly gave a tested grind against his face, attempting to pay no mind to how large his teeth were to your much smaller frame. The fear continued to hold you back while you timidly began to rock to and fro on each follicle decorating his palate.

“Don't test me,” he growled with a muffled bark in his tone, “Ride my tongue and cum on it. Let me taste that sweetness you're hiding from me. Entertain me.” The rumble of his voice vibrated his tongue and forced a moan out of your lips at the shockwave pulsing through your body. True to form, you gripped his nose and began to form a steady rhythm grinding your pussy over his tongue.

You focussed on anything else: any other mirage your mind could focus on. Picturing your bedroom and placing a pillow between your thighs, you pretend to be back in that space against your mattress and grinding your cunt against the material. Slowly back and forward to chase the mounting pleasure of your clit caressing the cotton sheets instead of-.

“-That's it… that's it. Find that pace and ride me.”

You shook your head, finding the image of your bedroom to slowly dissipate in favor of reminding you where you truly were. You were not in your bedroom. You were not on your bed. You were not grinding your sensitive heat over a pillow and dampening it with your slick essence.

You were riding Loki, the banished prince of Elbaf, by grinding on his slippery tongue and feeling it pry your thighs apart with every thrust.

Loki’s cock lay untouched and throbbing in his pants, begging to be freed and pumped by one of his large fists. He felt the waves of lust come over him, but chose to rest his hands beside him, palms up and humble while his new little toy used him the way you pleased. Sensing the apprehension, he gave you a warning growl to refocus your momentum.

“Ride. Me.”

You gulped back your shame and bore down onto the bulbs and surface of his tongue, chasing your high and forcing yourself to focus. Do a good job, and he'll let you live. Entertain him, and he might treat you well. Cum on his tongue, give into the feeling, and feel the sparks of your muscles contract and throb against his palate.

The slippery organ began to feel good against your body. The feeling of giving yourself completely over to this primal urge caused you to cast aside all embarrassment and fear in favor of the sparks teetering in your vision. Your stomach bound in knots while your lips began to gasp and sigh softly.

“Louder.”

You flinched at the order, but obeyed the giant. Your sultry moans fled your lips while your clit dances against his muscle. Mewls and cries continued to flee you as you gripped hard on his nose. Your stomach flexed and thighs clenched around him, bucking wildly to chase that final wave as the coil inside you bound tight enough to break.

“Cum. Cum for me.”

The world split and shattered like a mirror against slate. Sparks of silver and rings of gold fizzed and erupted as your cum splashed onto his much larger tongue. You screamed out at the intensity while rocking, grinding and bucking to ride it out on your captor’s tongue - just as he had instructed you to do so.

Loki felt his cock twitch, sticky precum dampening his briefs and screaming for just a little touch. His eyes rolled back as he felt you use him completely, becoming hypnotised by the sweet melody spilling from your lips while you came hard. He could find himself coming quite accustomed to this pretty song thrust into his ears a few times a day - if not all day. Anything for a little entertainment in his captivity.

As you came down from your high against the giants tongue, you curled forward and slouched against his lips and nose. His tongue gave you a few lazy licks from ass to clit and back again to smear your slick over his to clean you. Slowly closing his lips, you felt the ridges of his smiling teeth below your spent cunt. Placing you on his upper lip, he steadied you while whispering softly up at you.

“Just you relax for a moment, little one,” he cooked at you, moving his hands over the buckles and furrs of his belt to unburden his cock from its confines, “Just you catch your breath.” He fished his achingly hard cock out of his pants and began to languidly stroke the engorged mass, smearing the precum over his shaft and chuckling as you recovered.

“We're going to have so much fun together.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @ane5e

[saturnsorbits]

LiSyK: The Selection

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Prince!Bakugo, Suggestive. Word Count: 1.6k.

Summary: Closing in on his 20th name day, tradition dictates that Prince Bakugo choose his first concubines.

A/N: This might become a series, but don't hold your breath.

'I don't want a fucking -.'

Grabbing her son by the cheeks, Mitsuki Bakugo fixes the young prince still with a cold stare. 'You will do as you're told.'

'But -'

'It is tradition, Katsuki. Not even your ego is large enough to put an end to that.' She smirks before releasing her hold and wipes a hand on the left hip of her dress. 'Now, come on... You're late.'

Huffing, Bakugo tugs at his shirt to smooth the wrinkles left by his mother, but follows on her heels obediently. Usually, he'd put up more of a fight, throw a proper tantrum, but the pit of curiosity growing in his stomach stops him making too much fuss. He's fucking human, after all. Of course, he's going to be at least a little interested in the collection of concubines that had been assembled specifically for his perusal.

That didn't mean he had any intention of choosing any of them, though.

The doors of the main hall seem more daunting than usual, but Bakugo hides his trepidation well.

Or so he thinks.

Mitsuki's hand touches softly on his shoulder, guiding him, not through the main hall, but down the corridor. She offers out her elbow, letting him cling to her as they continue to drift closer to a small, more intimate, service room.

The marble clicks under their shoes, the sound amplified endlessly as it rings behind them announcing their arrival. Large windows scatter light, bringing out the red in both Bakugo and his mother's eyes as they pass the selection of special guards already stationed outside the room. All seven of them, five sworn to his mother and two to him, are dressed from head to toe in royal finery with the lightest of chain mail glittering over their chests. Swords hang from their hips, but Bakugo knows there are much more deadly weapons hidden under their clothes and tucked away from prying eyes.

Captain Aizawa, one of Mitsuki's most trusted knights bows low when they reach the door.

Reaching out, Mitsuki presses a hand to his shoulder and pushes him straight again. 'Enough of that, you'll put your back out.'

Aizawa's mouth moves to argue, but Mitsuki doesn't allow his voice to summon a sound.

'Shouta, you have more than earned the right not to bow.' She chides in a way that makes goose-flesh break out on the other guards, but the Captain simply laughs.

'Is the prince ready, My Lady?'

Mitsuki's hand wraps around her son's bicep giving him a firm squeeze. 'Oh, you know him. Dragged here kicking and screaming.'

Bakugo scowls.

'But, I'm sure he'll manage.'

Another guard, tall and broad in the shoulders with a close crop of dark hair and a booming voice clears his throat. 'If I may speak out of turn, Captain?'

'You will not Yoarashi.'

Mitsuki waves him off. 'Oh, let the boy speak Shouta.'

The guard, Yoarashi, smiles. His teeth are too big for his mouth, but somehow there's still something strikingly handsome about him. Bakugo hates it. 'The consorts have outdone themselves this time, I've never seen a more stunning array of -.'

Captain Aizawa silences his guard with a raised hand. 'That's quiet enough, I think the Queen understands your sentiment.'

'Quite.' Mitsuki smiles, locking a chuckle behind her teeth. 'Speaking of the wonderful job my husbands consort has done, I think it's time to see what Inko has found for us, don't you, Katsuki?'

Bakugo nods, it's all he ca manage with the nerves threatening to make his knees wobble like some common whore. His jaw is tight, teeth clenched in his mouth, but it soon looses as he the doors are thrown wide and he's allowed to step into the room.

Inside the room is dark, the thick red curtains covering the windows putting an end to any natural light that should attempt to slink inside. Instead, the room is illuminated by a series of high torches that cast a godly glow about and perfectly highlighting the row of people stood across the centre of the room.

At once, Inko is upon them. She wraps chubby arms around Bakugo without a second thought and greets his mother with a warm kiss to her hand when offered. Following at her heel is Izuku, her darling son. 'Brother.' Izuku smiles.

'Half Brother.' Bakugo spits the former piece of his sentence, enjoying the way it feels between his lips – the distance it offers him from the man before him. They're the same age. Both Mitsuki and Inko had been pregnant at the same time and the boys born mere months apart, although Inko had done the chief portion of the nursing; especially when Mitsuki's milk had dried up. Something that had lead both women to an unlikely friendship.

'I heard you've outdone yourself this time.' Mitsuki pulls at Bakugo, steering him around to the front of the room.

Bakugo's eyes wonder. There's a conversation flowing in the air around him, but he pays no heed. How can he, when the most beautiful man he has ever laid eyes on is looking directly at him.

The man lifts his head. He is bare to the waist with only the smallest piece of cloth to cover his dignity. If Bakugo where to walk around him, which he just might, he'd bet he'd be able to see his ass in all it's glory.

He has red eyes, violent carnelian, that pierce right to Bakugo's soul and red hair that is tied neatly in a bun atop his head. Licking his lips when he catches the princes' eye, the man smiles, flashing a row of blade-like teeth that threaten to bring Bakugo to his knees.

'Did you hear?' Mitsuki pats Bakugo's lapel.

He didn't, but he nods anyway.

His eyes slip further down the line, silently comparing each concubine to the next, but no-one compares to the red-eyed man until his eyes are blessed by you.

You're near the end, stood beside two others that don't even come close to your beauty with your chin tilted to the floor and your hands clasped neatly before you. Like the others, you're dressed in almost nothing, but it's the bright red 'V' painted onto your skin across the top of your breast bone that has him pausing.

He's seen the mark before and a cursory glance back down the line tells him exactly where. The red head, amongst two or three others, also bare the mark.

Bakugo swallows.

Already he can feel his breeches tightening uncomfortably.

'How many?' He snaps, forcing his eyes from the line and onto Inko.

She blinks. 'Pardon?'

'How many... For my... For my harem?'

'Oh. Most choose at least six to begin with, but after that is custom to add another concubine for each year until you reach 29. Sometimes other kingdoms will offer then as gifts, but you're more than welcome to dismiss -.'

Bakugo raises his hand. 'I don't want a history lesson.'

'Oh, I -.' Inko blushes.

'Brat, watch your tongue...' Mitsuki raises her hand to crack him across the back of the head, but the prince side steps her assault easily.

'I want that one...' He points at you, eyes narrowed and hungry before he turns, pointing at the red haired man at the other end of the room. 'And him. That's all.'

Mitsuki's brow furrows. 'Two? Inko here scourers the kingdom for the finest it had to offer and you choose only two?'

Bakugo folds his arms. He can feel your eyes, the red-heads too, burning through his skin. It makes him hot, makes him wonder what it'll be like when your eyes grow heavy, when they're spotted with ears and your mouths are full of his tongue, his fingers, his cock.

Clearing his throat, he tries to readjust his breeches.

He won't have to imagine soon. No, soon, you'll be his.

'Have them brought to my rooms tomorrow.' Turning on his heel he shouts over his shoulder before storming from the room before his cock begins to soak into his breeches.

Tomorrow, he thinks as soon as the doors slam shit behind him.

That should give him enough time to fist himself stupid to the thought of red eyes and glittering skin.

Hopefully, that would stop him making a fool of himself at the first meeting.

Bakugo already looks bored when you're brought into his rooms at noon the following day. The door closes behind you, a guard having performed the customary introductions, and all too quickly you're swallowed by the nerves that climb up your body and twist around your lungs.

Adjusting his seat, Bakugo pulls a foot up onto his chair and spreads his knees. A bark leaves his chest that he hopes is harsher than it feels. 'I don't fuck virgins...'

You hear the wet click of Kirishima's throat from beside you in the silence of the room. Even though the red ink is gone, the fact of your both being intact remains the same. 'Uhm, my lord... I mean – Prince Bakugo, I'm... I think there's been some mistake, we're – we're both -.'

'I know.' He waves his hand. Anticipation creates pins and needles in his thighs. Even if he wanted to fuck right now, he's not sure his body would hold out long enough. Maybe, five orgasms in the space of a day was too much.

'Well, you can see how this might be a problem then...' Twisting his knuckles around each other, Kirishima chews at his lip and forces a weak smile. It's strange how he makes six-foot of man look almost as small as you are, but he does it easily and blushes pretty to boot.

'How -.' He clears his throat. 'How are we supposed to serve you if -.'

'You're going to fuck each other, first.' He arches an eyebrow, drawling as if the solution to his little problem has been more than obvious. A smirk curls his lip. 'I'll watch.'

Next Chapter ->

-> Series Masterlist -> Full Masterlist

[tojirights]

Okay this is going to sound like really bad but I did read your rules and saw that dubcon/noncon could be allowed so

please begging for a dub/noncon (up to u which) crumbs where Alastor is tired of reader's stubbornness and thinks it's time to really let her know her place (al owns her soul) and okay thank u bye pwosjdjeidnsj *runs and hides under a rock in shame*

a/n: HAAA YESSS. no this is amazing 😍😍

tags: 18+ smut nsfw, NONCON‼️, alastor is a demon fr, forced penetration, dacryphilia, choking, slight throat fucking

"good morning, would you be a dear and run this to rosie for me?" alastor pops into your room unannounced, as usual. you're tired, he had you up all night on another shitty errand, and you just want to sleep a little longer. "alastor please, can't anyone else do it?" you sigh, irritation bubbling in your chest. he never lets you rest.

alastor raises an eyebrow. "no one else is available." his tone is harsh, and when you meet his eyes, they're darker than they were a moment before. "this is the part where you're supposed to submit, say 'yes sir' and get out of bed." he leans on his staff, glaring red eyes staring through you. "or did you forget?" your eyes widen when you realize what he's about to do. there's a flash of green, and you feel the clasp of that shitty metal collar around your neck.

your deal with alastor backfired, just as he intended it to, and he ended up not having to do a god damned thing in exchange for your soul.

with a sharp tug of his chain, you're forced to sit up. the pull around your neck makes you cough, and you glare back at him. but when you do, you're quickly filled with a certain level of primal fear. alastor was no joke when he was angry, eyes glowing red and those antlers growing from atop his head.

"you need to learn, my dear, that the word 'no' is not a part of your vocabulary anymore." alastor walks with slow, determined strides towards your bed before his knees hit your mattress. he tugs once more, pulling you up and onto your knees. "alastor don't..." your breath catches in your throat. his hand grips onto your jaw, squeezing you uncomfortably. tears prick in the corners of your eyes, and you let out a shaky sigh. "don't?" alastor repeats, laughing. "have you forgotten the fact that i own you?"

you reach for his wrist in an attempt to remove his hand but he's far stronger than you. "i-i'll go, i'm sorry." you hiccup, but alastor has already made up his mind. "mmh, i don't think so. i don't tolerate insubordination, darling." your heart hammers in your chest when alastor's fingers find his belt. "you’re going to learn one way or another." he growls, freeing his half-hard cock and tugging your restraint.

you clench your teeth, and try to look away but alastor's grasp is too tight. his thumb drags along the bottom of your lip before prying your jaw open. "listen and be my good girl, this won't be so bad." you shut your eyes, the only thing you can think to do to cope with alastor forcing the head of his cock between your lips. there's only a moment of hesitation, a sigh from the demon above you, before his cock is being slid further down your throat.

every groan from alastor earns another tear running down your cheek. his hands hold your face steady as he pumps his cock faster, fucking the back of your throat. "so pretty, darling. look at me." he grunts, pulling your eyes up to his. they're glassy with tears, and its almost enough to make alastor cum down your throat in that very instant.

his cock pulses and he's forced to pull out of your warm mouth in fear of releasing before getting to take your cunt too. he taps your cheek gently, watching you cough and recover your breath after having your airways restricted. "strip, then i want you ass up on the bed." your lip quivers, and your body refuses to move even after you tell it to. alastor sighs, shaking his head. "must i do everything?" his words are somehow gentle and harsh enough to pull a sob from your chest.

before you can stand, alastor reaches for the hem of your sleep shirt and tears it straight down the middle to expose your tits. on instinct, you try to cover yourself but alastor's shadow circles both your wrists and pins them to your side. "please alastor... i promise, i-i will do anything you ask. please just don't do this." you plead, but alastor just clicks his teeth with his tongue. "you should've thought about the consequences before this, my dear. i've found that making an example out of someone typically gives the best results."

he does release his shadows, freeing your wrists and watches carefully as you follow his previous instructions. you kick your shorts off with a muffled cry and turn to shove your face into the mattress. ass up, you prepare for whatever alastor has in mind. his fingers find your slit, delving into the wet heat between your thighs. the laugh he releases sends a chill down your spine. "wet as can be darling!" without giving you another moment to process, his cock is pushing thick and hard into your unprepared pussy.

your scream gets caught in your throat, heat coursing through your body in an overwhelming way. "n-no, too much alastor, please stop." you cry, muffled into the mattress as you try to scramble away from him but you feel alastor's shadow come back to pin your arms. you're trapped at this point, completely under alastor's control. there's no choice but to give in, your body going limp as alastor pumps his hips into you.

"good girl." he coos, raking his clawed hands down your back. angry red marks follow in its trail. "see how easy it is to just obey?" every inch of his cock pushes you to your limit. "such a good cunt..." he sighs, his hips stuttering before he pulls out and you feel each thick rope of cum hit your ass. you finally open your eyes, letting every emotion flow through them as alastor empties his balls all over you.

there's a moment of silence while alastor catches his breath. "now... will you be a dear and run this to rosie for me?" he reiterates, and your whole body tenses. is he not even giving you time to recover? to clean up? fuck...

"y-yes sir..."

[yayll]

~ a little something about Dazai and his tantrums ~

"... Hmph. I hope you crash this car and we both die."

The moody brunet mutters under his breath as he looks out of the car window, his arms crossed over his chest, refusing to look at you. He was awfully cute whenever he did this, and oh so vexing at the same time. You learned to acclimate to this very early into your relationship with him.

"What? All I said was that I was going to be driving us, Osamu!"

Your laugh is light hearted as you focus on the road ahead, dismissing his whiny behavior for another one of his... Melodramatic performances, his co-workers once called it. He finally turns to glare at you, but a wicked glint in his narrowed eyes betrays him... You can tell he's more unserious than anything. Playful, even. And besides, he would never actually be upset with you, he just can't stop thinking up schemes to make you roll your eyes at him. Your smile alone makes his thoughts impure, shame on you!

"Yeah, well... I feel dehumanized! overlooked! neglected..." He feigns offense, sighing heavily as he slouches into the passenger seat. He places a bandaged arm over his face, groaning softly but still side eyeing you to check if you're looking at him or not.

"You do that all on your own, silly."

"Excuse me? I'm expressing my grievances and you're calling me silly? Oh, so that's what this is really about. You don't love me anymore! What a cruel beauty you are..."

He gasps, now burying his face into the crook of his elbow, pretending to weep as he mumbles incoherent nonsense about how much you mistreat him. In actuality, he was giddy as hell. You park the car, and turn to face him, a coy smile flashes on your lips.

"Nobody said anything about not loving you. Now, what can I do to fix this, Mm?"

He lifts his head up, suddenly composed and shrugging his shoulders as if nothing ever happened, speaking in a matter of fact voice that somehow deepened.

"Well, definitely don't let me drive. I don't even have a license. I'd kill us in an instant."

"... Then why argue about it?!"

"Because you look so beautiful when you're yelling at me. And you make me feel alive. Anddd, because I'm bored~"

He flashes you a cheeky grin, it's dreamy and sickening. His eyes twinkle with mischief as he leans over the seat and flicks away a stray hair from your face. Dazai then taps the tip of your nose, slowly dragging his finger down to your plush bottom lip, gently flipping it over to expose your teeth. The pad of his finger gently swirls against your canines, and finally, retreats... He knows there's a time and place for his worship prodding. His eyes travel back up to yours, and you can swear they look darker than usual. If only the Port Mafia could see what became of the Demon Prodigy... A new man reborn! A man who loves!

The rest of the day is spent with you indulging Dazai, something along the lines of 'reparations' is what he calls it. Only he knows how much it means to him that you can handle him during his calculated outbursts... or rather harmless tests to prove you won't leave him at the first sign of trouble. He needs you to be in it for the longhaul, just like he is. It's deceptive, but no one has to know! He just loves you and these are simply counter measures. You'd probably call him selfish, but as long as you call him at all, he doesn't give a shit. Because in the grand scheme of things, he really can't drive, and you two are inevitably endgame.

You're the ball, and he's your chain.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

WOLF BOY

when ao3 goes down, we write tumblr fic (edited version now on ao3 HERE lol)

i used the 15/11/24 @sterekdrabbles challenge for this. the prompt words were GREEN, REACH and SCATTER. i'm also tagging @sterekdrabblesgonelong as it's around 1K words and therefore definitely a drabble gone long lol.

it's a spark!stiles slash derek whump sort of affair, just so you know what you're reading xp

.

The dagger is almost within his reach—so very nearly grabbable.

Other than being eight years old in a hospital room with the smell of rotting flowers clinging to the back of his throat, Stiles doesn't think he's ever wanted anything more than this.

Again, Derek hacks out, “Just run, Stiles!”

Again, Stiles answers no—only this time, it's not with his voice but a yellow-green vine of pure light that extends from his fingertips as he pleads with each beat of his heart for the universe to help him, the tendrils stretching, stretching, then victoriously winding themselves around the handle of the blade. 

“Oh, shit,” he mutters, now with his actual voice, and then the vine of his will is pulling the knife flush into his grip. 

He looks up at the hunter, their face a billboard of surprise, before a shriek rips itself from her belly at the very same time Derek roars from where he's tethered and bound, the wolfsbane-laced chains melting further into his flesh as he tries in vain to once again break free.

Then the evil bastard is flinging herself at Stiles—and straight into the dagger aimed at her solar plexus that his light sends sailing across the cave, plunging it deep into her breast.

It might not be bullseye, but it does the trick.

As she drops to the dusty ground like a discarded ragdoll, the other two hunters' heads snap like whiplash to where Stiles is sprawled, a look of pure terror marring their faces.

The cowardly fuckers drop their weapons and scatter, leaving Stiles and Derek alone—other than the dead woman at their feet—in the large cave they'd dragged Derek into a few hours ago.

Derek's wrung out, and beaten down, but alive. 

At once, Stiles scrambles to his feet to get over to where the ʼwolf is chained up, almost falling back down again when his probably sprained ankle gives way beneath him. 

“Stop fucking hurting yourself,” Derek hisses, and for once in Stiles's insane life he wishes he could gnash his teeth and roar in response, and it have an effect that would be anything other than ridiculous. 

“Oh my god,” he protests instead. “I've just saved your offensively pretty ass with my new spark's apparently awesome Gio-Ju-ju, a-hole, so how ʼbout we be a little less sourwolf and a lot more gratefulwolf to ol’Stilesy boy here, hmm?” he sasses, finding the key to the padlock that's bolted to Derek's chains on the flat rock where his flashlight got dropped when confiscated by one of the hunters. 

Stiles feels petulant, and justified in that petulance as he discards the now unlocked padlock. Then he feels a little wrong-footed when Derek quietly mumbles, “Thank you,” because the guy sounds both in a considerable amount of pain and genuinely grateful to Stiles.

Stiles sighs and kneels down to start prizing the chains away from Derek's red-raw, still-smoking skin, the ʼwolf's forever-stoic face giving away nothing of the hurt he's obviously suffering at the cruel hands of the aconite still desperately trying to seep its way into his body.

“You don't have to do that for me, you know,” Stiles says carefully, hinting at Derek's display of endurance.

Derek's eyes flicker from mid-space to Stiles's face, and Stiles suddenly notices that their heads are actually dizzyingly close.

He swallows, and the sound of it echoes around the cave as if mocking him. 

The second he peels away the last link in the chain attached to Derek's skin, and before Derek can push him away, Stiles brings a hand to Derek's throat to feel for his pulse. 

When determined fingers find it, Derek's face does a thing that Stiles hasn't seen it do before; it's this combination of incredulous and vulnerable, and is so unprecedented, and so beautiful, that Stiles sort of wants to cry about it. 

“You can hear mine,” he superfluously reminds Derek, before saying what he really wants to. “It's not fair I don't get to know—that you're alive, I mean. Like, I know I can see it but… The tactile reassurance? That's, uh, you know, kind of nice, too.” 

Man, he spends way too much time with werewolves. 

Then, when he licks at his dry lips and Derek's pulse quickens under his fingertips, Stiles is so much more than simply placated.

Taking a steadying breath, he feels a million trillion miles away from anything even remotely resembling steady.

He studies Derek's face some more for confirmation of his suspicion, and finds something akin to bashful swimming amid the swirls of those gorgeous seafoam eyes.

Derek likes him back?

Stiles sinks his teeth into his bottom lip; Derek's pulse starts to race. 

Amazingly, it seems Stiles isn't alone in the want he feels deep in his gut, and as it grows and spreads to his extremities, his fingers and toes now tingling with it, he reckons he's maybe beaten-up and bleeding out and half-braindead enough to have the balls to actually do something about it. 

It must be biological, he thinks as he licks at his lips again, that his body somehow knows exactly what to do to hopefully get Derek to do exactly what Stiles wants him to—lick Stiles' lips for him, that is—without him making an actual fully-formed decision on the matter.

Although as soon as he's thinking that, the decision to kiss Derek is unequivocally made—even if it's going to get him shoved into the dirt for trying. 

He's about to lean in when one of Derek's already beginning-to-heal hands stops him by bracing his shoulder. 

“I can smell your pain, Stiles,” he says. “Let me help.”

Stiles tries not to smile as he lies through his teeth. “Hurts here, the most,” he murmurs, touching two fingers from the hand not at Derek's pulse to his bruised, bloody lips. He then curls the other hand further around the werewolf's neck, to hold on.

Derek starts to pant, and Stiles has to hold in a whine.

The werewolf sounds absolutely wrecked when he asks, “Do you have any idea what you're doing to me by wrapping your hand around my throat?”

Stiles's smile then brakes free and is wry as his wit as he answers, “I've been working hard to find out how to woo you for months now, big guy. What do you think?”

And when Derek lunges to crush Stiles's mouth with his own, teasing Stiles' lips apart with his hot, hot tongue and nipping at them with blunted canines, Stiles reckons he knows what it must feel like to howl. 

.

edited version now on ao3 HERE if you'd like to drop me a comment xp

[thef1diary]

i just realized i accidentally send my dirtbag!carlos thots to em instead of you... oh well. i'm sure she'll enjoy them 😮‍💨

dirtbag!carlos eating you out like a starved man😵‍💫 he'd go slow enjoying, every little sound coming from you. as your breathing gets heavier and moans louder it's like a switch has been flipped inside him. he doesn't stop until he's made you cum at least twice.

random side note: as someone with a lip piercing AND nose rings i've always wondered if the other person can feel them? my lip piercing isn't that noticeable apparently but idk about my nose rings... i'll have to conduct a study!

🩵

— haha em surely enjoyed them but nonnie?!?!? holy fuck this thought is soooo hot, fanning myself over here 🥵 and ooh? I only have ear piercings, but the temptation of getting a nose piercing is like super high rn. For this drabble, let’s pretend you can feel his nose piercing. 18+ content below

The room is dimly lit, a faint orange glow from the streetlamp outside casting shadows on Carlos’s sharp features. He’s on his knees in front of you, every inch of him exuding trouble—his leather jacket open just enough to show a glimpse of his hairy chest, a chain glinting at his neck. Dark hair falls messily over his forehead, but your focus keeps shifting between the black hoop and stud adorning his ears and the glint of the silver ring in his nose. The piercings, paired with his cocky smirk, make him look like he walked straight out of your most dangerous fantasies.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” he drawls, voice rough with a teasing edge. His large hands grip your thighs, spreading you open for him. “You’re the one who begged for this, remember?”

Before you can muster a response, his tongue flicks out to taste you, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the first bite of a meal. The wet heat of him has you gasping, your hands flying to grip his thick hair. He chuckles darkly against you, the vibration of it making your thighs tremble.

The ring of his nose piercing brushes against your clit, a sensation so maddeningly delicious that your hips jerk up instinctively. “Yeah, there it is,” he mutters, lips dragging over you. “Knew you’d like that.”

Carlos takes his time at first, mapping you out with his tongue, licking and sucking until your moans spill freely from your lips. He hums in satisfaction every time you react, letting you feel the scruff of his jaw and the cool press of his piercings as he pushes you closer to the edge.

But then your breathing turns ragged, your cries louder, and his composure snaps like a thread pulled too tight. A groan escapes him, low and feral, before he locks his arms under your thighs, yanking you impossibly closer.

“Oh, nena, you sound and taste so sweet,” he rasps, the heat in his eyes burning straight through you. His tongue plunges deeper, faster now, his lips relentless against you. Your pleas and curses only spur him on. He’s ravenous, devouring you like you’re the only thing keeping him alive.

The first orgasm rips through you, your thighs trembling around his head. Carlos doesn’t even pause, his mouth unyielding as he draws out your orgasm until you’re nearly overstimulated, the slick sounds of his efforts only fueling your undoing. He grins wickedly when you whimper, his thumb replacing his tongue briefly to rub at your swollen clit.

“One more,” he orders, his voice roughened with lust. His teeth nip at your inner thigh, just enough to make you yelp. “You can take it. Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

Before you can protest, his tongue is on you again, his nose piercing sliding deliciously against your pussy. He doesn’t let up until your second orgasm crashes over you, leaving you a writhing mess beneath him.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, glistening with evidence of his handiwork. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand, smirking like the devil himself. “Told you I’d make you scream,” he taunts, his voice dripping with arrogance as he leans back, taking in the sight of you wrecked and breathless.

“And I’m just getting started.”

want more dirtbag!carlos? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[baekhyunsbestie]

⟢ : NEED TO KNOW ★.ᐟ

˗ˏˋ ꒰ synopsis ꒱ ˎˊ˗ the x-ëxø guys wanna see what that cute lil human cooter is really capable of. each of them has their own vibe, their own way of wrecking you, and once they’ve got you… there’s no getting away. 👽💫💖 so, who’s it gonna be?

˗ˏˋ ꒰ content ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 18+/mdni. 14k+ words (baëkhyun's is the longest i'm so sorry). separate pairings. fem!reader. i'm ngl to u this is just straight up smut for the most part. explicit language. pussydrunk men. degradation. praise. pet names. talking u thru it. dark themes: obsession and possessiveness. brat-taming. powerplay. manhandling. biting. marking. pheromone kink. size kink. choking. spanking. chains. oral. use of their powers hehe (except junmyeon + yixing). p in v. creampies. overstim. aftercare. raw and fuckn ROUGH juseyooo <3

˗ˏˋ ꒰ a/n ꒱ ˎˊ˗ “i don't play w my pen. i mean what i write!” ;) omg so i was deep in a doja cat mv binge the other day when this one came on and i was like ??? 🫦 what an insane concept !!! inspired. got to cooking. now here we are <333 anywhoooo, happy monday !!!!!! hope u enjoy this and as always, lmk what u think 😚💞💖💗💖💓💘💗 MWAH! 💋

⟢ kāi

“i don't really got no type. i just wanna f*ck all night!”

the bass thrums through your body, a steady pulse that matches the rhythm of your hips as you grind back against him, your ass pressing into the hard line of his cock. kāi's hands grip your waist, fingers digging into your flesh, his breath warm against the shell of your ear.

“you’re playing a dangerous game,” he rasps, voice thick with restraint, but you can feel how badly he wants to snap, to take you right here in the middle of the club. you smirk, rolling your hips again, feeling the way he stiffens behind you, a curse slipping past his lips.

“take me home, then,” you purr, glancing at him over your shoulder.

before you can blink, reality shifts, the thumping bass disappearing as the world blurs and twists. the next thing you know, you’re in a dimly lit penthouse, city lights sprawling beneath you. kai’s body is already pressing into yours, hands greedy, mouths colliding in a desperate, open mouthed kiss as you claw at each other, tugging at clothes like they’re offensive barriers.

“i’ve been waiting for you all fuckin’ night,” he groans against your lips, teeth grazing over your lower one before sucking it into his mouth. his hands are everywhere, roaming, squeezing, claiming.

“didn’t think i’d be your type,” you tease between kisses, nipping at his bottom lip.

kāi lets out a dark chuckle, lifting you effortlessly as he carries you deeper into the room, “you think i’d let just anyone make me this fucking desperate?” 

his free hand slides down your stomach, pressing lower, fingers slipping and dragging over the damp heat of your soaked panties. his breath catches, his entire body tensing as his fingers glide through the slick mess between your thighs.

“fuck,” he grits out, his hips rolling forward against you on pure instinct, letting you feel just how hard he already is. “you’re so wet for me already, baby. so fuckin’ ready.”

you struggle to catch your breath, still lightheaded from his grip, from the way his fingers move against you, teasing, barely touching, driving you insane. your body bucks against his, chasing friction, chasing more, but he just smirks, pulling away, leaving you gasping.

“kāi—”

“tell me you want me, baby.” his voice darkens, rough with warning, with command.

his fingers press in, slow, teasing, pushing just enough to make you whimper, to make you desperate.

“i—i want you,” you whisper, voice shaky, barely able to form the words past the heat crawling up your throat.

kāi curses under his breath, his body shuddering, his hand tightening on your throat for just a second, just enough to make your knees weak.

his arm releases you just enough for him to shove you forward, forcing you on to your hands and knees. his hand presses between your shoulder blades, pushing your chest down, forcing you into the mattress, keeping your ass high in the air.

his palm drags over your skin, slow, teasing, over the curve of your ass, down to where you’re already soaked, already throbbing for him.

“look at you,” he breathes, his voice drenched in hunger, in possession. “you’re fucking shaking.”

his fingers glide through the slick between your thighs, teasing, never giving you enough.

“so needy. so fuckin’ desperate. aren’t ‘cha, baby?”

his palm cracks down against your ass, sharp, punishing, making you jolt forward with a strangled gasp.

kāi just smirks, rubbing over the sting, soothing only to tease.

“you gonna take it like a good girl?”

you nod frantically, breathless, your fingers clenching in the sheets, already wrecked from just his touch.

kāi groans, low and deep, his head tilting back, his body shaking with restraint. “good—‘cause ’m not stoppin’ till you can’t walk.”

he doesn’t give you another second to prepare—he’s already lining himself up, already dragging the thick head of his cock through your sloppy folds, already pushing inside.

your body tenses, a broken gasp spilling from your lips as he stretches you open, forcing you to take every inch.

kāi hisses through his teeth, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you still, making sure you feel every inch of him sinking into you.

“that’s it, baby,” he grits out, voice hoarse, thick with pleasure. “take it. take all of it.”

his head drops forward, his lips parting around a guttural moan, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.

you feel so fucking good— he can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but fuck you.

his hips snap forward, hard, deep, forcing your body up the bed, forcing a sharp, choked-off moan from your throat.

his fingers tighten on your waist, anchoring himself, losing himself, fucking into you with sharp, brutal thrusts.

your moans shatter into something helpless, something completely wrecked.

kāi feels it all. he feels the way your walls clench, flutter, squeeze him like you never want to let him go. he feels the way your legs tremble beneath him, the way your nails dig into the sheets, the way your moans break into sobbed-out gasps, too much, too good, too deep.

“fuck—”

the groan rips from his throat, deep and ragged, breaking apart as his head drops forward, damp hair falling into his eyes, sweat dripping down his temple, chain swaying against your back with every sharp snap of his hips.

his hands slide down, rough and desperate, gripping your waist, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin, holding you there, pulling you back onto him, making you take every inch, forcing you to feel just how desperate he is.

he’s already too deep, too wrecked, too far gone. his jaw clenches, his breath stuttering, his thighs flexing beneath you as he fights for control, fights to hold himself together, fights the need to cum too fast because you feel too fucking good.

and then—you move.

your hips roll, slow and deliberate, fucking yourself onto him, making him feel every single inch, squeezing him tight, dragging him in deeper.

kāi freezes.

his grip tightens, sharp inhale cutting through the heavy air, his body tensing behind you.

and then he snaps.

his hands fly to your hips, fingers digging in, nails pressing deep, holding you down as he fucks into you with sharp, punishing thrusts, forcing a wrecked sob from your lips.

“holy shit—” his voice is hoarse, ruined, completely unraveling.

his rhythm stumbles, pace turning rougher, harder, deeper. he's fucking you like he needs it, like he’s lost in it, like you’ve just pushed him over the edge and now he can’t stop.

his fingers slip between your thighs, finding your clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles, the contrast between the rough snap of his hips and the slow, torturous pleasure of his fingers making your body shake.

“gonna make you all fuckin’ mine, baby,” he grits out, hips snapping, faster, deeper, unrelenting.

your body locks up, shatters, pleasure slamming into you so hard your breath cuts off, leaving you gasping, shaking, sobbing his name.

he feels you tightening, pulsing, trembling beneath him, and it ruins him.

his hands fly up, grabbing your shoulders, dragging you back onto him, meeting you thrust for thrust, slamming so deep you swear you can feel him everywhere.

his breath stutters, groan breaking into something raw, something desperate. his forehead presses into the back of your neck, his lips dragging over your sweat-damp skin, panting, shaking, completely fucking wrecked.

his hips roll forward, pressing in deep, grinding so slowly it makes your head spin. you jolt, breath catching, a broken little whimper spilling from your lips as the overwhelming sensation crashes through you.

kāi groans, his head dropping forward, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, damp dark green hair sticking to his forehead.

“so sensitive already?” he taunts, voice mocking, playful, so damn smooth it makes your stomach tighten. “but we’ve barely started.”

your breath stutters, body trembling, pleasure crackling through your veins like fire.

“kāi, s’too much!” you gasp, the sound breathless, desperate, wrecked beyond repair.

he grins against your skin, his fingers tightening on your hips, his grip bruising, unrelenting.

and then—you try to shift.

just the smallest movement, a desperate attempt to pull away from the overstimulation, from the way he’s pressing so deep, from the way your body is still pulsing around him.

but he’s not having it.

his arm slides around your waist, yanking you back, shoving you down, holding you in place.

“oh, no, baby,” he coos, voice dripping with amusement, with dominance. “where do ya think you’re going?”

his free hand trails down your stomach, teasing, fingertips dragging over your trembling thighs before pressing between them, parting them wider.

“you can keep going.” his voice is low, commanding, drenched in certainty. “you’re still drippin’ f’me—fuck, look at you, baby.”

your lashes flutter, eyes hazy, dazed, barely able to focus—but then he forces you to look.

his hand slips under your chin, tilting your head down, forcing your gaze between your legs, forcing you to see exactly how much of a mess you’ve made.

and fuck—he’s right.

your slick coats your thighs, dripping down your skin, pooling onto the sheets beneath you, messy, obscene, proof of just how wrecked you are, proof of how much you love this.

kāi groans, voice low and wrecked, completely undone.

“shit, baby—” his fingers dig deeper into your skin, his cock twitching inside you at the sight. “she still wants me, huh?”

his hips pull back, dragging out slow, teasing, before slamming forward again, making you cry out, making your body arch beneath him.

his hands grip your hips, flipping you effortlessly onto your back. your breath stumbles, body shifting, legs instinctively parting as he settles between them, his weight pressing down, his chest hot against yours.

his eyes meet yours, dark and blown-out, filled with something ravenous.

“gonna watch you, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his lips along your jaw, voice molten against your skin. “gonna watch every fucking second while i fill you up.”

his fingers wrap around the backs of your knees, pushing them up, bending you in half, folding you under him until your ankles hook over his shoulders.

mating press.

deep. suffocating. brutal.

his next thrust knocks the breath from your lungs, the angle hitting so perfectly, so mercilessly, that your head tips back, a wrecked moan spilling past your lips.

kai groans, grinding forward, rolling his hips, pressing deeper, chasing the way you tremble beneath him, the way you clench around him.

“fuck—” his voice is wrecked, breathless, completely gone. “ya feel that? feel how deep i am, baby?”

his hands grip the backs of your thighs, holding you still, keeping you open, keeping you exactly where he needs you.

his lips drag along your ear, voice rough and commanding.

“gonna fuck my cum so deep inside you, you’ll still feel me tomorrow.” he pants, hips snapping forward, grinding deep, making you take it. 

his words send heat pooling in your stomach, twisting tighter, unbearable, your body teetering on the edge.

“you gonna cum again, baby?” his tone is mocking, but desperate, hungry, like he wants it just as much as you.

you nod, gasping, shaking, barely able to hold on.

kāi groans, his hands slipping down to your stomach, pressing down, feeling himself inside you, pushing even deeper.

“that’s right, baby,” he breathes, his lips brushing against yours, sweat-damp and feverish. “gimme another one.”

your body shudders, pleasure tearing through you like wildfire, your breath catching, back arching, thighs trembling as you break beneath him.

kāi moans, long and low, feeling every pulsing squeeze of your walls, every desperate tremor of your body, every fucking aftershock of your orgasm rolling through you.

“fuck, baby—” his voice is wrecked, almost hoarse, his breath catching. “gonna—fuck—”

his hips stutter, slam forward, grind deep, and then—

he breaks.

his jaw goes slack, his body locks up, his cock twitches inside you, and then he’s spilling deep, hips jerking through every thick pulse of his release, filling you up, stuffing you full, keeping you there, keeping you under him, keeping himself buried inside you as he groans through the aftershocks.

his forehead drops against yours, damp hair sticking to his skin, his breath uneven, his body trembling.

“holy shit,” he exhales, his voice barely there, soft and wrecked and completely lost.

his hands slide over your thighs, up your sides, up to your face, his fingers tracing over your jaw, soft, slow, reverent.

his lips skim against yours, lazy, claiming, pressing in deeper, messier, letting you feel exactly how wrecked he is.“you’re mine,” he whispers, voice still shaking. “and i’m not fuckin’ done with you yet.”

⟢ chanyeøl

“your eyes told me, ‘girl, come ride me!’”

he can’t move.

his wrists are bound to the headboard, silver chains stretching taut, clinking against metal every time he tugs. every sharp movement makes them rattle, the sound cutting through the thick, heated air, a constant reminder that he’s helpless beneath you. his arms flex with the effort, biceps straining, veins prominent beneath flushed, sweat-damp skin, muscles coiled so tight it’s agonizing. tension rolls through his body in suffocating waves, every nerve set alight, every inch of him aching, burning, starving for more.

and you? you’re fucking killing him.

straddling his lap, hips rolling in slow, torturous circles, your body moving with deliberate cruelty. the drag of your slick heat around his cock is exquisite, unbearable, devastating. you keep it agonizingly slow, a teasing rhythm that drives him insane, that keeps him hanging on the edge but never lets him fall.

he feels everything.

the way your walls clench and flutter every time you shift, the slick warmth of you wrapped so tight around him, the delicious friction that makes his breath stutter and his fingers twitch—except he can’t touch you.

he can only watch. only feel. only suffer.

his pink hair is damp with sweat, messy strands sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed, lips parted around ragged breaths. his chest rises and falls in sharp, uneven motions, every exhale shuddering through him like he’s barely holding it together.

his eyes—heavy-lidded, dark, desperate—stay locked onto you, filled with frustration, hunger, something utterly feral.

you grind down just a little harder, squeeze just a little tighter, let a slow, knowing smirk curl your lips—

and chanyeøl groans, head pressing back into the pillows, jaw clenched so tight it aches.

“baby,” he grits out, voice wrecked, deep, thick with warning. “stop fuckin’ teasin’ me.”

but you only tilt your head, lashes low, lips curling into something playful, something cruel, something that lets him know you’re not stopping anytime soon.

“why would i stop?” you murmur, voice sweet, teasing, soaked in mischief.

your fingers trail down his chest, slow, deliberate, nails scraping lightly over the firm planes of muscle, tracing along every dip, every ridge. the moment you reach his abs, you press down just slightly, feeling the way they clench, the way his entire body tightens, the way his breath shudders out of him in something between a groan and a curse.

but you’re not in a hurry.

your nails drag lower, teasing over his stomach, feeling the heat radiating off his skin, feeling every single slight tremor that runs through him.

then—you reach for the candle.

the wax is molten, thick and slow-moving, swirling in liquid fire within its glass prison. your fingers curl around it, lifting it carefully, tilting it just enough to let a single droplet gather at the edge—

and then it falls.

chanyeøl sucks in a sharp breath, every muscle in his body locking up as the wax splashes against his skin. it sears hot for the barest second before cooling, solidifying into something firm and unyielding, a mark of your control, your dominance, your ownership over him.

his breath stutters, his fingers flex, the chains rattling violently as he fights against them.

but he’s not fighting you.

no, he wants more.

you see it in his eyes, dark and blown-out, see it in the way his lips part, the way his thighs tense beneath you, the way his entire body reacts to the sensation.

so you give it to him.

another drip.

then another.

each one landing lower, dragging down his stomach, tracing the ridges of his muscles, painting a sinful path that has him breathing ragged, has him groaning deep in his chest, has him losing himself completely beneath you.

“you like that?” you whisper, voice nothing but a breath of air against his sweat-damp skin.

his jaw clenches, his hips bucking up instinctively, seeking more, needing more, but the chains keep him still, keep him bound, keep him at your mercy.

his pink hair is an absolute mess now, wild and untamed, sticking to his forehead in damp strands, his entire body slick with sweat, his skin gleaming beneath the dim candlelight.

and god, he looks fucking ruined.

but not enough.

you drag the candle higher, letting it hover over his chest, watching the way his abs clench, the way his fingers twitch, the way his lips part like he’s about to beg—

but then—

the chains snap.

heat surges, an overwhelming wave of raw power bursting from within him, and before you can react, before you can even blink, his wrists are free, silver links falling uselessly to the mattress, charred, burned through like they were never meant to hold him in the first place.

your breath catches.

the candle tumbles from your grip, caught effortlessly by his hand before it can spill another drop.

then his hands are on your hips, a bruising grip of pure desperation as he yanks you down onto him. no hesitation, no warning—just pure, raw need. his breath is ragged, his chest heaving, his entire body trembling with restraint, with need, with something dark and insatiable.

“ya really thought you could tease me like that?” his voice is a growl, low and wrecked, thick with amusement, thick with something more dangerous. “thought you could fuckin’ break me?”

his hips grind against yours, slow, deliberate, making you feel every thick, heavy inch of him pressing against your core, making you tremble, making you whimper, making you realize—

you’ve lost control.

chanyeøl smirks, lips curving into something dark, something devastating, something that promises you’re not leaving this bed without remembering who he is.

“my turn, baby.”

his grip is brutal, unrelenting, a bruising force of raw hunger and pent-up aggression. his fingers sink into the soft flesh of your hips, digging deep, holding tight, dragging you down with such devastating strength that the air gets knocked from your lungs the moment he slams you onto his cock.

you choke on a gasp, body seizing, nails clawing at his arms, your mind struggling to catch up with the sheer force of him—

but he doesn’t give you time.

doesn’t give you room to process the way he stretches you open, the way he fills you so deep you swear you can feel him in your fucking stomach.

he breathes, voice wrecked, thick with relief, with amusement, with something darker. his pink hair is a mess, sweat-damp and wild, strands sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed, his lips parted around heavy, uneven breaths.

his hands tighten, nails pressing into your skin, his grip so firm you know you’ll feel it tomorrow, know you’ll wake up with marks of his desperation painted across your body.

he keeps you there, keeps you pressed against him, keeps you right where he wants you, caging you in with his heat, his size, his overwhelming presence.

his smirk is devastating, nothing but pure sin, sharp edges and dark amusement curving his lips as he tilts his head, as his breath spills hot against your mouth.

“ya wanted to ride me?” his voice drips with something dangerous, something mocking, something completely and utterly in control. “then fucking ride.”

his hips snap up, sharp and unrelenting, the sheer force knocking the breath from your lungs, punching a strangled gasp from your throat, sending your body jolting from the impact. the air leaves you in a shuddering exhale, your moan breaking into something fractured, something wrecked, something high and breathless, barely coherent over the ruthless slap of skin against skin.

your vision blurs at the edges, a hazy, pleasure-drunk mess, the world narrowing to nothing but the overwhelming sensation of him—his hands on you, his cock buried so fucking deep inside you, his breath against your throat, the sound of his groans rasping against your skin, the desperation coating his every movement.

you try to move, try to match his pace, try to meet the brutal snap of his hips, but he doesn’t let you—doesn’t give you room, doesn’t give you control. your nails sink into his shoulders, clawing at him, grasping at the sweat-slicked muscle beneath your fingers, searching for something to hold onto, something to ground you. but chanyeøl doesn’t give you that either.

he doesn’t give you a choice.

his grip tightens, fingers digging in, palms spreading wide across your waist, holding you down, keeping you locked against him, keeping you exactly where he wants you. his thrusts turn ruthless, merciless, slamming up into you so hard you swear you can feel him everywhere, every thick inch stretching you, pressing into every devastating spot that has your body convulsing, your thighs trembling, your stomach tightening.

he’s completely lost now. completely feral. completely gone.

his moan rips through the room, raw and guttural, nothing but pure wreckage, his chest heaving, his body trembling, his muscles flexing beneath your fingers as his rhythm falters for just a second—just long enough for him to collect himself, to gather what little restraint he has left.

“that’s it, baby,” his voice is wrecked, shaking, breaking apart on every syllable, pure desperation dripping from his tongue. “take it—fuck, take all of it.”

his teeth find your throat, grazing, dragging over the flushed, heated skin, nipping and sucking, leaving bruises in his wake, marking you as his. his lips travel lower, over the curve of your shoulder, along your collarbone, pressing open-mouthed kisses between every sharp, gasping inhale. his breath is hot, uneven, barely controlled, every exhale ghosting over your skin like he’s worshipping the way you fall apart for him.

“god, you feel so fucking good.”

his voice drops to a whisper, hoarse and trembling, more for himself than for you. his hips grind forward, deep, slow for just a moment, dragging out the sensation, pressing into you so perfectly, pushing against that one spot that makes your back arch, that makes your walls flutter, that makes you gasp out his name like a prayer.

he chuckles—low, teasing, smug—but there’s no steadiness to it, no confidence, just something wrecked, something helpless, something fucking lost in you.

“gonna make you cum all over my cock just like this, baby.”

his pace stutters, sharp, erratic, his control slipping, his own pleasure climbing too fast, too high, too much.

“fuck—” his moan is low, guttural, his head falling back, pink hair damp with sweat, strands sticking to his forehead, clinging to his temples, his entire body gleaming, flushed, overheated.

his hands slide down your waist, palms pressing into your stomach, holding you still, anchoring you to him as he grinds into you, as he feels you squeeze around him, as he feels you unravel.

his voice is a whisper, breathless and ruined.

“you gonna cum for me?”

your body locks up, muscles tightening, thighs clenching, every nerve in your body winding tighter and tighter, the pleasure swelling inside you, mounting, consuming.

“y-yes!”

your voice breaks, your hands gripping onto him, onto anything, onto whatever will keep you grounded as the pressure twists in your gut, as it builds too high, too fast, too fucking overwhelming.

chanyeøl groans, a low, drawn-out sound, his chest rumbling against yours as he dips his head, lips dragging along your jaw, breath hot against your ear.

his fingers slip between your thighs, sliding against your clit, rubbing in tight, perfect circles, relentless, knowing exactly how to ruin you, knowing exactly how to make you break.

his pace turns frantic, desperate, his thrusts losing rhythm, losing precision, his body trembling as he chases your pleasure, as he chases his own.

“then cum, baby—” his voice is a command, low and rough, breath catching as he feels your walls pulse around him, as he feels you tense, as he feels you start to fall apart.

and fuck— you do.

the pleasure slams into you like a shockwave, too much, too strong, so intense your entire body locks up, a choked sob ripping from your throat as you shudder, convulse, lose yourself in the heat, the overwhelming flood of sensation crashing over you in waves.

your nails dig into his back, raking down the sweat-slicked muscle, clutching at him like he’s the only thing tethering you to the earth. your walls tighten, pulse, clench around him in desperate aftershocks, and you swear you can hear the way he chokes on his next breath, the way his body seizes beneath you, the way he completely fucking loses it.

“oh my god—” your voice breaks, barely even words, nothing but breath and sound and wreckage. “so deep—fuck, yeøl—feels so good! feels too fuckin’ good—”

chanyeøl curses, deep and filthy, a ragged groan ripped straight from his chest, shaking beneath you, trembling, muscles flexing and tightening like he’s on the very edge of ruin.

“jesus fuckin’ christ, baby—” his voice is barely a whisper, barely human, hoarse and guttural, completely wrecked.

his hands are everywhere, gripping your waist, your hips, your thighs, as if he can’t decide where he wants to hold you, where he wants to feel you, if he even wants to hold on at all or if he just wants to let go, let himself completely fucking break.

“shit—" he gasps, voice catching, his hips faltering, losing rhythm, losing control.

he feels everything. every flutter, every squeeze, every pulsing, desperate grip of your gummy walls dragging him deeper, milking him, pulling him under.

his head tilts back, jaw slack, eyes fluttering shut as his entire body locks up and then—he shatters.

his moan is long, drawn-out, completely destroyed, something between a groan and a plea, something raw and helpless, something utterly fucking wrecked.

his hips stutter, slam forward one last time, pressing deep, grinding as his cock pulses inside you, as he spills hot and thick, filling you, stuffing you full, making sure you feel it, making sure he’s buried so deep you won’t be able to forget it.

his fingers tighten, gripping you like he never wants to let go, like he wants to stay right here, like he’s trying to mold himself to you, like this is the only thing that makes sense anymore.

his breath stumbles, uneven gasps falling from his lips, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, his entire body trembling beneath yours.

your hands slide up into his hair, fingers threading through damp, pink strands, holding him against you as he tries to catch his breath, as he comes down from the high, as he struggles to even comprehend the wreckage you just left him in.

and then—he laughs.

soft, breathless, utterly amused, the sound warm and lazy against your skin, like he can’t believe how fucking good that was, like he’s still trying to process it.

his arms wrap around you, dragging you closer, pulling you flush against his chest, keeping you in place, keeping you exactly where he wants you, his lips pressing against your temple, slow, affectionate, completely different from the way he just ruined you.

“damn,” he chuckles, grinning against your skin, voice still thick with exhaustion, with satisfaction, with something teasing. “should’ve broken out sooner.”

⟢ sehůn

“i heard from a friend of a friend that that dick was a 10/10!”

you don’t hesitate.

there’s no second-guessing, no last-minute doubts gnawing at the edges of your resolve. you know exactly what you want, and tonight, you’re taking it.

your first time? it has to be good. not just good—worth it. unforgettable. none of that clumsy, awkward, hesitant nonsense. no fumbling hands or uncertain touches. no half-hearted attempts at pleasure. you want something that sets the standard so high, every encounter after this either rises to meet it—

or crashes and burns in comparison.

so when the rumors started swirling—whispers passed from friend to friend, low voices dripping with scandal—you listened. you heard about sehůn. about the way he ruins girls. about how he fucks like he has something to prove, like he needs to leave a mark, like he’s got a goddamn legacy to uphold. you heard that he’s got a fucking 10/10 between his legs, that he knows exactly how to use it, that he has girls losing their minds over it.

and that’s when you made up your mind.

which brings you here. now.

and sehůn? he’s unraveling.

“holy fuck, baby—”

his voice is wrecked, raw and hoarse, cracking under the weight of whatever the hell you’re doing to him. his gaze is locked between your bodies, pupils blown wide as he watches—watches—the way you take him, how your body stretches around every thick, veined inch of him, how your slick heat clings to him like you don’t want to let go.

he moves slow. deep. careful.

because fuck—he’s huge.

long, thick, stretching you open inch by inch, filling you up so perfectly, so completely, it knocks the air from your lungs. your thighs tremble, heat pooling deep in your core, every nerve ending alight. your nails dig into his arms, a sharp contrast to the slow, deliberate way he pushes in, making you feel every inch, every vein, every unbearable second of it.

too much. too good. too deep.

“oh my god,” you gasp, back arching, the burn of the stretch sharp and unrelenting, overwhelming in the best possible way. the pain fades into something hotter, something dizzying, something addictive.

above you, sehůn groans, teeth clenched so tight his jaw ticks, hands gripping your waist like a lifeline. his fingers flex against your skin, the tension in his arms evident, every muscle in his body coiled tight as he forces himself to move slow—forces himself to not snap his hips forward, not fuck you deep and raw and desperate.

because he can’t. because this is your first time. because fuck, he wants to ruin you, wants to wreck you, wants to make it so good that nothing, no one, will ever compare.

“ s-so fuckin’ tight,” he rasps, voice strained, uneven, breaking under the sheer effort it takes to hold back. his head tilts back, throat bobbing as he swallows hard, his fingers digging into your waist. too much. too perfect. too fucking good.

his hands tremble as they slide down, past your ribs, lower, lower—

then he presses. right below your navel.

his breath catches.

“holy shit, baby—”

you blink, dazed, breathless, pulse roaring in your ears as you follow his gaze down—

and fuck— you see it.

the outline of him. thick and deep, pressing against your stomach, buried so far inside you that you can see the way he stretches you, the way he fills you.

sehůn lets out a wrecked, shuddering breath, his eyes glazed over, his thumb tracing over the bulge like he can’t fucking believe it.

“look at that,” he groans, voice breaking. “fuck, sweetheart. i’m so deep inside you.”

sehůn groans, low and wrecked, something primal flickering behind his eyes, his fingers flexing against your belly, pressing down just slightly, just enough to feel himself inside you, just enough to make his cock twitch, just enough to make you moan, high and broken and absolutely ruined.

“fuck,” you gasp, eyes fluttering shut, body jolting at the pressure, at the weight of him, at the way he just keeps sinking deeper. “so fuckin’ big.”

sehůn lets out a breathless laugh, something between smug and delirious, something completely pussy drunk.

“yeah?”

you nod, eyes hazy, lips parting, your voice softer now, higher, sweeter.

“s'good.”

his breath stutters, his heart pounding, something thick and hot curling in his stomach at the way you’re taking him, at the way you’re looking up at him like he’s the only thing in the world right now.

his fingers press deeper into your belly, his lips dragging along your jaw, his breath shaky.

you let out the softest whimper, legs trembling around his waist, your body clenching down around him, so tight, so wet, so fucking sweet.

and sehůn? he’s fucking losing it.

his body is trembling, sweat rolling down his spine, damp strands of black hair clinging to his forehead, his jaw slack, his eyes dark, unfocused, his grip on your waist so tight it’s almost bruising. his breath stumbles, breaking over the sharp gasps leaving his lips, wrecked, helpless, completely fucking gone.

his grip tightens, fingers pressing deep into your waist, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his body trembling with the effort to hold himself together, to keep his control, to not fucking break. but he’s slipping—you can feel it in the way his hips stutter, in the way his voice shakes, in the way his nails dig into your skin like he’s trying to keep himself tethered to something real.

“gonna claim you, baby—fuck—gonna ruin you.”

his voice is low, rough, cracking under the weight of his own desperation, thick with need, with something raw, something wild, something completely fucking unhinged.

his hips snap forward, deep, fast, rough, the force of it knocking the breath from your lungs, making your fingers clutch at him, nails biting into his sweat-slicked back.

he groans at the sting, the sound broken, wrecked, so fucking desperate.

“gonna fuck you so deep, so good, you’ll never want anyone else—"

his words hit like fire, heat spreading through you, searing, melting, consuming.

because you don’t. you don’t want anyone else. no one could ever fuck you like this. no one could ever make you feel like this. no one but him.

“gonna make this pretty pussy take the shape of my cock—”

his words are filth, pure sin, dripping from his lips like a promise, like a vow, like an unshakable truth.

your body reacts instantly, your walls clenching, pulsing, gripping him tighter, your legs wrapping around him, holding him closer, keeping him exactly where you need him, exactly where he belongs.

your practically breathless, wrecked, high and needy, gasping, pleading, your fingers dragging down the flexing muscles in his back, leaving scratches, leaving marks, claiming him the same way he’s claiming you.

because if oh sehůn’s the only dick you’ll ever have for the rest of your life—

you don’t fucking care.

as long as you can cum like this, as long as he fucks you like this, as long as he keeps filling you, stretching you, ruining you, making sure no one else can ever have you.

no one could ever compare.

you dig your nails in harder, dragging them over his skin, feeling the way his entire body tenses, the way his cock twitches inside you, the way he moans against your throat, high and broken and completely undone.

his forehead falls against yours, his breath mingling with yours, hot, heavy, wrecked.

“gonna cum,” he pants, voice barely above a whisper, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you down onto him, making you take all of him, every inch, every thick, perfect inch stretching you, filling you, ruining you. “fuck, baby, gimme one more—”

you let out a choked sob, every thrust sending fire through your veins, sending pleasure rippling through your body, tightening, twisting, coiling too tight, too much, too good—

“sehůn! fuck—”

his grip tightens, his fingers sliding down between your bodies, rubbing messy, fast circles over your clit, his voice a rough command against your lips.

“yeah, pretty, that's it—fuckin' cum for me—”

your body locks up, pleasure crashing over you, white-hot, mind-numbing, overwhelming. your walls flutter, clench, pulse around him, and sehůn completely fucking breaks.

“oh, fuck—”

his moan is wrecked, completely shattered, his hips slamming forward, pressing so fucking deep you swear you feel him everywhere, his cock throbbing inside you, hot and thick, filling you up, stuffing you full, making sure you take every last drop.

his body shudders, fingers gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like he’s trying to keep you here, like he needs this, like he needs you.

his forehead rests against yours, his breath heavy, uneven, his voice barely a whisper.

“shit, baby—never felt anything like this—”

his voice is wrecked, breathless, torn straight from his chest like he can’t believe what just happened, like he’s trying to catch up, trying to process the way you just ruined him.

you smirk, slow and lazy, lips parted, chest rising and falling in uneven waves. bliss coats your skin, warm and slick against his, the aftershocks still pulsing through you, still making your legs weak, your body hum.

you let out a breathless laugh, the sound light, teasing, laced with exhaustion. “was this your first time or mine?”

sehůn huffs out a rough laugh, but there’s no real bite to it, just something wild and wrecked in the way his arms tighten around you, his grip unrelenting, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he lets go for even a second.

his lips find your temple, then your cheek, then your jaw—soft but firm, slow but desperate, like he’s mapping you out, memorizing the way you taste, the way you feel under his hands, against his skin.

“nah, baby,” he murmurs, voice nothing but gravel, nothing but heat against your pulse. “more like this is my last first time with anyone—”

his fingers press deeper into your hips, like he’s making sure you hear him, feel him, understand exactly what he means. his lips brush yours, breath warm, gaze dark, possessive.

“'cus this pussy is mine for life.”

⟢ kyüngsoo

“spank me, slap me, choke me, bite me!”

it all started as a joke. just harmless fun.

it’s friday night and you and your girls had gone to the ëxø bar, a place whispered about in certain circles—where the drinks were stronger, the air was heavier, and the men who owned it… well, no one really knew what they were. just that they were different. powerful. something more.

so, of course, after a few drinks, the conversation had taken a turn.

“i bet they’re fucking insane in bed,” one of your friends giggled, stirring her drink lazily. “imagine the things they could do to you.”

you had laughed, tipsy and unbothered, the warmth of alcohol making you bolder. “i dunno. some of them look like they could ruin you. like, completely wreck your shit.”

“which one do you think would fuck the best?” someone else teased, nudging you playfully.

your gaze had drifted—just for a second—to him. kyüngsoo. the one with the sharp eyes and the ridiculous shoulders, sitting in the corner nursing his drink like he didn’t have a single care in the world.

“that one,” you had murmured, half to yourself. “he looks like he wouldn’t stop until you were a fucking mess.”

you didn’t know then that he could hear you.

but he did.

and now? now you’re here, in his bed, screaming his name like a prayer.

kyüngsoo has you folded, ass high in the air, face buried in the mattress as he pounds into you like he’s trying to break you apart and put you back together again. his grip on your hips is brutal, fingers digging in like he wants to leave bruises, like he wants you to remember this every time you see yourself in the mirror.

“this how you imagined it, baby?” his voice is rough, teasing, so fucking cocky. “when you were giggling with your little friends—wondering how i’d fuck you?”

you try to answer, but all that comes out is a choked moan, your back arching as he lands a sharp smack to your ass.

“answer me.”

you barely manage to stutter out, “it’s e-even b-better!” before he’s yanking you up, one thick arm wrapping around your neck in a headlock.

his strength is inhuman, his body unrelenting, his cock hitting that spot inside you over and over like he’s got something to prove. and maybe he does. maybe he wants you to know that no one else could ever fuck you like this.

his hand slides up, fingers wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your head spin, to make your body throb around him.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans, voice rough against your ear. “pretty little pussy taking me so well. just like i knew it fuckin’ would.”

you’re gone, completely wrecked, every thought in your head wiped clean except for him. his strength, his power, the way he’s fucking you like he owns you.

the moment you start throwing it back, meeting him stroke for stroke, something in kyüngsoo snaps.

his power—his inhuman strength—was something he had always kept under control. always measured, always careful. but not now.

now?

he grabs you, one arm looping around your waist, lifting you clean off the bed like you weigh nothing, like you’re just a doll for him to use. you barely have time to gasp before he’s slamming you back down onto his cock, impaling you so deep you see stars.

“fuck—” your breath hitches, nails digging into his wrist as he manhandles you with ease, bouncing you on his cock like you’re just a toy for his pleasure.

“this what you wanted, doll?” his voice is dark, ragged, dangerous. “you wanna fuck me back? wanna take it like a big girl?”

his grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to bruise, and then he’s fucking up into you, his strength making it so you don’t have to move at all—just take it, just let him use you.

your moans are broken, breathless, your body limp in his grasp, barely able to handle the sheer force of his thrusts.

“too much?” kyüngsoo's voice is thick with amusement, a dark tease laced with mockery. his free hand cracks against your ass, the sharp sting making you jolt in his grip. he feels the way you shudder, the way your walls flutter around him. weak. trembling. desperate.

his lips brush your ear, his teeth grazing the shell as he purrs, “nah—you can take it. you were talkin’ all that shit in the bar, weren’t you?” another slap lands, harder this time, and you whimper. “so take it.”

kyüngsoo’s grip tightens on your hips, holding you steady as he fucks into you, his full strength unleashed. the bedframe creaks, the entire thing rocking under the sheer force of his thrusts, his cock slamming into you like he’s trying to fuck you through the mattress. 

and he is.

your fingers scramble for purchase, clawing at the sheets, moans spilling from your lips in helpless little cries.

“w-want you so bad, ‘soo! hah—can’t get enough!” your voice is almost slurred, pleasure consuming you, your body begging for him.

he lets out a deep, primal groan, his whole body shuddering, and then—

he grabs you.

one hand wrenches your wrists behind your back, pinning them effortlessly, holding you captive with his sheer strength. his other hand? it wraps around your throat, squeezing, controlling your every breath, forcing you to stay exactly where he wants you. his hips snap forward, unrelenting, each stroke making the bed shake, making you sob with pleasure.

“huh? what’s wrong?” his tone is pure mockery, amusement curling around the edges of his words as he watches you fall apart. “thought you wanted to keep up? but look at you—”

he lets go of your wrists just to shove you down, flattening you into the mattress, his weight crushing you in the best way.

“can’t even move anymore, can you?”

he’s right. you can’t. you’re wrecked, nothing but a quivering mess, your body his to use.

his thrusts grow sloppier, harder, inhumanly deep, and then—

he roars, his grip on your throat tightening, his cock pulsing as he spills into you, filling you up so deep you swear you can feel it everywhere.

and the worst part?

you still want more.

⟢ suhø

“i just wanna know if you can fuck on me better!”

the bass from the club inside pulses through the walls of the dimly lit parking lot, but in here—inside the tight, fogged-up space of suhø’s car—there’s only the sound of your breathy moans and the wet, filthy slap of skin on skin.

you don’t even remember how you got here, how the casual, half-serious conversation over drinks turned into you being splayed out beneath him, your dress hiked up around your waist, his hands gripping your thighs like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

but you remember what he said.

“i can fuck you better.”

you had scoffed. rolled your eyes. told him every guy says that.

and yet—fifteen minutes later, you’re gasping for air, body trembling from the second orgasm he’s wrung out of you with nothing but precise, calculated thrusts that are too damn good. you hate car sex. always found it uncomfortable, never got off, never felt like it was worth the trouble.

but now?

now you’re draped over the center console, one knee propped up against the window, his fingers sinking into your flesh as he fucks into you so good, so deep, you swear you’re about to shatter. your body is still pulsing from the last climax, but you feel another one creeping up fast, winding tight in your gut, making your thighs tremble as suhø leans down, lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

“you have no idea how fucking long i’ve wanted you like this,” his fingers slide down to press against your swollen clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. you jolt, a sharp gasp ripping from your throat as pleasure ripples through you.

“suhø—fuck—”

“hated every time you brought that fucking loser to my fucking bar.” his voice is low, rough, strained with the effort of holding back, “knowing he couldn’t make you feel this way—knowing it should’ve been me. should’ve always been me.”

you let out a breathless laugh, barely coherent. “if i knew you were gonna fuck me like this, i would’ve left him a long time ago.”

suhø groans against your skin, teeth scraping lightly against your jaw before he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with something dangerous.

“yeah?” his hips slow, rolling into you deep enough to make you gasp. “then why the fuck did you waste so much time on him?”

“dunno,” you tease, even as your breath stutters. “bad decisions, i guess.”

“damn right,” he grunts, hand sliding down between your bodies, fingers pressing against your clit. “good thing i’m fixing that now.”

your back arches as you keen his name, body responding to him in ways it never has for anyone else.

“you feel it, don’t you?” he murmurs, “you’re close again. i can feel you squeezing me.”

and you are—you’re right there, teetering on the edge, but you need something more.

with a desperate push, you press against his chest, flipping him over, straddling his lap. his head tips back against the headrest, hands automatically falling to your hips as you sink down onto him, nails digging into his shoulders.

“god—” he groans, voice tight, “look at you. fucking perfect.”

you roll your hips, slow at first, watching the way his jaw tenses, his fingers flexing against your skin. but then something inside you snaps, and you move faster, chasing that peak, riding him until the pleasure becomes unbearable.

“that’s it, baby,” he grits out, meeting your rhythm with sharp thrusts, “show me how bad you need it—”

you sob his name, and then—fuck—

it crashes over you like a tidal wave. your body locks up, pleasure consuming you as you squirt all over him, the wet, messy sound of it echoing in the car. suhø groans deep in his chest, a rough, guttural sound as his grip tightens, his cock twitching inside you before he thrusts up one last time, spilling deep inside you with a shaky, “fuck—yes—”

the only sound left is your panting breaths, the creak of the car as it rocks gently back and forth. the windows are completely fogged, the air thick with heat and sweat and sex.

suhø exhales heavily, hands roaming up your sides, fingers tracing gentle patterns against your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“dump him,” he murmurs against your hair, “get with me instead.”

you hum, still catching your breath. “mmm, that’s a tempting offer.”

suhø scoffs, his grip tightening on your waist. “tempting? baby, i just made you cum three times. what’s there to think about?”

you smirk, trailing your fingers along his collarbone. “true. maybe i need more convincing.”

his jaw clenches, eyes darkening as he flips you back onto the seat in one swift motion, spreading your thighs apart again.

“oh, i’ll fucking convince you.”

his fingers dip between your legs, already teasing, already coaxing another moan from your lips.

“i can take care of you,” he whispers, gaze locked onto yours. “just leave him.”

⟢ baëkhyun

“baby come throw the pipe. gotta know what it’s like!”

your breathing is a trembling mess, uneven gasps breaking apart into soft, choked-off moans, and baëkhyun hears every single bit of it. it’s like your body is singing for him, and he’s so fucking tuned in, so hyperaware, so ruined by the way you fall apart beneath him. he feels the way your chest rises and falls in shallow, needy pants, the way your fingers claw at the sheets like you’re trying to ground yourself, the way your thighs tremble as they lock tighter around his waist. but nothing—nothing—compares to the way your gummy walls flutter and clench around him, gripping him like you never want to let him go. and fuck—he groans, deep and guttural, head dropping forward, fingers digging into your waist so hard they might bruise.

he’s never felt anything like this. it’s not inexperience. he’s had more than his fair share of bodies under him, pretty little things crying for him, scratching down his back as he made them come undone. but this? you? it’s too much. too hot, too tight, too good, dragging him under and drowning him in sensation so intense it turns his nerves raw. every squeeze, every slick pull of your body around him, every little pulse of your walls milking him for more—he feels it too clearly, too sharp, like his body was made for this, for you, for the unbearable pleasure of sinking into you and losing himself completely.

his head tilts back, silver chain catching the dim light, the delicate links shifting with every brutal roll of his hips. his breath is ragged, his body shaking, white hair clinging to his damp forehead as he fights to keep control—fights not to let you drag him under completely. but he’s losing. fuck, he’s losing. the way you take him, the way your heat tightens, flexes, pulls him in deeper like you were made to keep him buried inside—it’s breaking him down, reducing him to nothing but the sharp, desperate need to fuck you harder, to chase the feeling of you unraveling beneath him, for him, because of him.

his head tilts back, throat exposed, taut with restraint, jaw clenched so tight it feels like it might snap. the delicate chains draped across his face glint under the dim light, shifting with every sharp breath, every tremor of pleasure rolling through him, the cool metal a stark contrast against his burning skin. he’s holding on by a thread, barely keeping himself together, but fuck—you're making it impossible.

you're so tight around him, so fucking warm, gripping him like you don’t want to let him go, like you’re trying to pull him deeper, ruin him completely. every slick drag of your walls around his cock sends a fresh surge of heat rushing up his spine, settling low in his gut, twisting tighter, hotter, more unbearable by the second. his fingers dig into your hips, possessive, brutal, leaving behind a promise in the shape of bruises. he wants you to feel this, wants you aching tomorrow, wants you to remember who fucked you like this, who made you come apart.

his breath stutters, his grip tightening like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. “oh, baby,” he groans, voice wrecked, hoarse, barely more than a breathless rasp. “ya have no fuckin’ idea what you’re doing to me.”

but you do.

you know exactly what you’re doing.

your lips part in a slow, smug little smirk, body arching beneath him, rolling up into his thrusts, forcing a deep, guttural hiss from his throat. you feel the way he shudders, the way his breath catches, the way his muscles tense under your fingertips as you drag your nails up his arms, over the solid planes of his shoulders, teasing, testing, pushing.

“thought you were supposed to be stronger than this,” you murmur, voice silky-smooth, laced with cruel amusement, a challenge dressed up in honey. your fingers slip into his hair, tugging just enough to make his breath hitch, just enough to feel the way his cock twitches inside you.

baëkhyun tenses, exhales sharply through his nose.

“at least that’s what you were telling me at the bar earlier,” you continue, tone drenched in mock innocence, pretending you don’t feel the way his grip tightens, the way his jaw flexes. “or was that all bullshit to get me in bed?”

his eyes flicker—sharp, burning, dangerous. the silver chains draped across his face catch the light as he tilts his head, lips curling into something dark, something feral.

“oh, you wanna play it like that?”

his voice is low, dripping with promise, amusement laced with something sharper, something darker. he watches you, eyes scanning your face, the way your lips part, the way your lashes flutter, the way your body responds to the power humming beneath his skin.

and then—he moves.

he pulls out completely.

your breath catches, a whimper slipping past your lips before you can stop it, your walls clenching around nothing, aching, empty, desperate.

but he doesn’t give you time to complain.

before you can even suck in another breath, he slams back in.

deep. brutal. unrelenting.

the force of it sends a sharp cry tumbling from your lips, your back arching off the bed, fingers twisting in the sheets, legs trembling where they wrap around his waist.

he grins.

“yeah, that's what i fuckin’ thought,” he murmurs, pressing forward, completely caging you in, silver chain dangling between you, cold against your overheated skin.

his hips snap forward again, tearing another sharp, gasping moan from your throat, and he drinks it in, revels in it, watches the way your face twists, the way your body shudders beneath him.

“so cocky a second ago,” he muses, mocking, smug, devastating. “but look at you now.”

his voice is smooth, controlled, the kind of control that makes your stomach tighten, makes your breath catch, makes your body tremble beneath his.

“what happened, sweetheart?” his lips graze the shell of your ear, voice taunting, teasing, all teeth and arrogance. “thought you wanted me to fuck you like this.”

he rolls his hips deeper, sharper, filling you so perfectly you can barely breathe, barely think, barely do anything but moan his name.

“you talk all that shit,” baëkhyun continues, mocking, devastatingly smug, “but the moment i fuck you like this, you're just a trembling, moaning mess beneath me.”

he sinks in, slow and steady, letting you feel every inch, every ridge, every unrelenting stretch of him. he presses deeper, so deep you can barely breathe, until his hips are flush against yours, buried to the hilt, seated inside you so perfectly it almost hurts. and then—he stops.

a sharp inhale drags through his teeth, his muscles locking up, his body trembling as he forces himself to stay still. it’s too much. he should be moving, should be fucking into you the way he knows you want him to, the way you’re already arching beneath him, fingers digging into his arms, nails scratching at his skin like you’re begging him to give you more. but he can’t. not yet.

his head tilts back, throat exposed, silver face chain shifting with the movement, glinting in the dim light as his jaw clenches. his breath stutters out of him, shaky and uneven, barely holding on. his fingers twitch where they grip your hips, nails pressing deep enough to bruise, deep enough to remind himself that he’s still here, still grounded, still barely keeping himself together.

but fuck— he’s never felt like this before.

his senses are too sharp, too dialed in, too focused on you, on how fucking perfect you feel wrapped around him. he hears everything—the sound of your breath hitching, the erratic pounding of your heartbeat against your ribs, the slick, obscene noises of your bodies pressed together, the soft, shaky moan that catches in your throat when you shift beneath him.

he feels everything.

your walls flex around him, tight and pulsing, gripping him like you don’t want him to leave, like you want to pull him even deeper, keep him buried inside you forever. you’re so warm, so wet, so utterly wrapped around him, molding to him in a way that makes his vision blur, makes his entire body coil with the unbearable need to move, to fuck, to completely ruin you.

but then—you move first.it’s the smallest shift, just a slow, deliberate roll of your hips, just enough to make him feel it.

and baëkhyun nearly fucking breaks.

his jaw slacks, lips parting around a choked-off groan, hips jerking forward before he can stop himself, chasing the way you squeeze around him, the way you shudder beneath him, the way you’re already so fucking desperate. his hands fly to your waist, gripping tight, like he’s holding on for dear life, like he’s trying to keep himself from losing every last thread of control.

“oh, fuck, baby,” he gasps, voice wrecked, raw, disbelieving.

his hands glide over your body, slow and reverent, mapping every curve, every soft expanse of skin, memorizing the way you feel beneath him. his fingertips trace over the tremble in your thighs, the slight arch of your spine, the way your stomach tenses when his hands dip lower, gripping your hips, pressing you deeper into the mattress.

his cock twitches inside you, so hyperaware, so overstimulated, so fucking deep that every little flutter of your walls makes his entire body tense. it’s too much, too good, too perfect. the heat of your body is suffocating, intoxicating, addicting, pulling him in, swallowing him whole, leaving him so close to the edge he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to hold back much longer.

his head dips forward, silver chains swaying, brushing against your flushed skin, cold metal against heat. his lips part against your shoulder, panting, breathless, and for the first time, he realizes—

he might not last much longer.

“baëk.”

his name leaves your lips on a breathy sigh, and the moment it hits his ears, his eyes snap open—sharp, glowing, flickering with hunger.

he looks wrecked.

his silver chain glints under the dim light, swaying with every shaky inhale, white hair damp and sticking to his forehead, jaw tight as he stares down at you. there’s something dark behind his gaze, something borderline desperate, something completely unhinged.

and you can’t help it—you smirk.

“you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you whisper, voice thick with amusement, rolling your hips up just enough to test him, just enough to feel the way he shudders, the way his cock twitches inside you, so fucking sensitive.

his breath catches, jaw clenching harder, fingers twitching against your hips like he’s fighting the urge to pin you down, to snap, to completely ruin you.

“so cute when you're pussydrunk,” you murmur, letting the words sink into his skin, letting them wrap around him like a noose.

baëkhyun growls low, deep, and dangerous.

his hand shoots up, wrapping around your throat, forcing your chin up, tilting your face until your gaze is locked with his. his grip is firm, unrelenting, not choking, just controlling, just enough to remind you who’s in charge.

“you think that’s funny?” his breath is hot against your lips, ragged and uneven, shaky from restraint. his fingers press in just enough to steal a gasp from you, just enough to let you know he could take away even more if he wanted.

and then—he snaps.

his hips slam forward, brutal, punishing, unforgiving.

your back arches off the bed, a strangled moan ripped from your throat, high and broken, your body trembling beneath the force of him.

baëkhyun laughs, breathless and mocking, his grip tightening, his lips brushing against your ear, amusement curling at the edges of his voice.

“not so cocky now, are you, sweetheart?”

his words hit like fire, scorching through your veins, sending heat rolling through your body, pooling low in your stomach, twisting tighter, hotter, unbearable. his voice is thick with mockery, dominance, control, but you can hear the way it falters at the edges, the way his breath stutters, ragged and uneven.

you bite your lip, fighting a moan, refusing to give in completely. instead, you force your eyes up to his, your smirk lazy, taunting, but not quite as steady as before.

“who said i wasn’t?” you rasp, voice breaking on the last word as his next thrust steals the breath from your lungs.

baëkhyun growls, low and dangerous.

you feel it vibrate through his chest, through the press of his body against yours, through the way his fingers dig into your waist, bruising, possessive, desperate.

“you’re fuckin’ shaking,” he breathes, amusement curling at the edges of his words. “don’t think i don’t feel it, baby. your body’s givin’ ya away.”

he slows his pace suddenly, rolling his hips deep, deliberate, pressing into you so perfectly that your head tips back, a broken moan spilling from your lips before you can stop it.

your walls clench around him in response, whimpering, shaking, unraveling beneath his touch, beneath his pace, beneath the raw desperation in his movements.

and he feels it all.

he feels the way you pulse around him, the way your body trembles, the way you lose yourself beneath him, and it only makes him rougher, only makes him fuck you harder, deeper, sharper, until all you can do is take it.

your fingers scramble against his shoulders, against his back, nails dragging down his skin, searching for something to hold onto, searching for anything to keep you from completely falling apart.

“b-baëk—” you gasp, breathless, nearly gone.

he grins, breath hitching, but his eyes glow with something darker.

“what’s that, sweetheart?” he taunts, mocking, knowing. “weren’t you just giving me attitude a second ago?”

you bite back another moan, refusing to give him the satisfaction. instead, you roll your hips up again, tightening around him, watching as his lips part, as his breath stumbles—just slightly.

he curses under his breath, a sharp exhale hissing through his teeth.

“oh, you little—”

his grip tightens—on your hips, on your throat, everywhere, because he can’t get close enough, can’t get enough, can’t fucking stand the way you feel so perfect around him and yet it’s still not enough.

his lips drag along your ear, his voice breathless, shaky, desperate.

“i feel everything,” he whispers, voice raw, shaking with it. “you think you can hide it from me? think you can still play this little game when i can feel this perfect fucking pussy clenching around me?”

your body shudders.

“fuck—” you breathe, finally breaking.

and baëkhyun laughs, low, dark, triumphant.

your moans turn helpless, breathless, uncontrollable.

you’re close—so fucking close, and he knows it.

his fingers slide down, find your clit, start circling, pressing, teasing.

you jerk, tense, writhe beneath him, gasping his name, hands clawing at his back, at the sheets, at anything that can ground you.

“cum for me, my pretty girl,” his voice is pure wreckage, pure desperation. “lemme feel it, lemme feel this sweet pussy squeeze me so fuckin’ tight—fuckfuckfuck, just like that.”

his hips snap forward—deep, grinding, ruthless.

and then—you break.

the pleasure hits like a shockwave, rolling through you, drowning you in heat and static and white-hot euphoria, leaving you gasping, shaking, body clenching around him in waves.

and baëkhyun feels every single bit of it.

it ruins him.

“shit—‘m gonna cum, baby. fuck—gonna fill ya up, make a fuckin’ mess of you. ya want that? yeah? want me so deep you’ll still feel me next week?”

his thrusts grow erratic, rhythm crumbling as the pleasure coils tighter, hotter, winding through every nerve in his body like a live wire. he's barely holding on, teetering on the edge, lost in the unbearable heat of you, the way your gummy walls flutter and grip him, milking him, pulling him deeper into the abyss.

he's gone. completely, utterly gone.

his fingers tighten on your hips, bruising, anchoring himself as his body locks up, shuddering. the tension snaps like a live circuit, raw electricity bursting in his veins as his climax rips through him—violent, devastating, white-hot and all-consuming.

and then—

the world goes dark.

a deep, shuddering groan wrenches from his throat, his entire body seizing, electricity sparking through his nerves, his power surging beyond control. the lightbulbs overhead flicker, pulsing once—twice—before exploding in a cascade of shattered glass. outside, the entire city plunges into sudden, absolute blackness. streetlights sputter and die. neon signs fizzle out. buildings blink into nothing, their towering silhouettes vanishing into the void.

but baëkhyun doesn’t notice. doesn’t care.

he’s buried so deep inside you, cumming so hard, spilling into you in thick, pulsing waves, filling you until there’s nothing left of him, until he’s shaking, panting, forehead pressing into your shoulder, chest rising and falling in ragged gasps.

his body trembles against yours, completely wrung out, completely spent, every last drop of his energy drained, sucked from him the moment he lost himself in you.

his breath is uneven, sharp and shallow, his fingers twitching against your waist as he tries—fails—to regain control, to piece himself back together.

but he can’t.

you’ve ruined him.

you feel the weight of him, the heavy press of his body, the way his heart hammers against yours, erratic and frantic. he’s never felt like this before. never been unraveled like this. never lost himself so completely that he took the entire fucking city down with him.

then—he exhales a breathless, disbelieving laugh.

“holy fuck.” his voice is hoarse, wrecked beyond belief, thick with something almost delirious, something that borders on awe. “did i just—”

you swallow, dazed, body still trembling beneath him, still reeling from the way he just ruined you.

“you… turned off the whole fucking city,” you breathe.

baëkhyun blinks.

then, slowly, a smirk curls at his lips.

“shit,” he mutters, breath still uneven. “guess i really was seeing the light.”

you groan, smacking his arm weakly, too exhausted to do anything else, and he chuckles, low and satisfied, lips pressing against your temple in something almost tender.

“’m serious,” he murmurs, voice thick with exhaustion, but there’s something smug underneath it, something cocky, something dangerous. “might’ve just fucked the whole grid offline.”

you huff, shaking your head, but you can’t stop the way your lips twitch, amusement curling at the edges of your spent smile.

“so what now?” you mumble, voice still hoarse, fingers trailing mindlessly over his damp back.

baëkhyun hums, shifting slightly, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you against him, as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

“dunno,” he sighs, pressing a lazy kiss to your collarbone. “maybe i should do it again. see if i can take out the whole damn country next time.”

you laugh, smacking his shoulder, and he grins, shifting just enough to bury his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

outside, the city remains dark, silent, caught in the aftermath of his power slipping, of his control completely unraveling.

outside, the city remains shrouded in darkness, silent, caught in the aftermath of his power slipping—his control unraveling at the seams.

but inside—

inside, baëkhyun is still glowing.

it lingers on his skin, a faint golden shimmer caught in the sweat-slick dip of his collarbones, in the silver glint of his chain, in the sharp, flickering brightness behind his half-lidded eyes. remnants of power, of pleasure, of something raw and all-consuming.

you watch him, gaze tracing the aftershocks still rippling through his body—the way his chest rises and falls in uneven breaths, the way his muscles still twitch beneath flushed skin, the way he looks so utterly wrecked, so completely gone—yet somehow still devastatingly beautiful.

his fingers ghost over your stomach, over your ribs, over the marks he left behind—absentminded, reverent, like he’s memorizing the proof of his presence on your skin.

then, with a slow, breathless chuckle, he exhales, “didn’t think i’d ever lose it like that over a girl.” his lips brush against your temple, voice thick, almost disbelieving. “a human one at that.”

you blink up at him, still hazy, still catching your breath. “oh? so what—you usually short-circuit cities over celestial beings?”

baëkhyun grins, lazy and wrecked, fingers tracing idle patterns against your hip. “never short-circuited anything over anyone.” he tilts his head, voice dropping lower, rougher. “guess you’re different.”

your breath stutters, but you mask it with a slow, smug smirk. “must be pretty humbling.”

he huffs a laugh, shaking his head, white hair damp against his forehead. “more like terrifying.” his fingers tighten against your waist, like he’s grounding himself. “what the hell are you doing to me?”

you hum, dragging your nails up his back, slow and teasing. “dunno.” your lips graze his jaw. “but i think you like it.”

his breath shudders, his grip flexing, his body still wound tight despite everything. his gaze flickers—something dark, something unspoken, something that burns like an eclipse.

“yeah,” he mutters, pressing a lingering kiss against your throat, voice dripping with something dangerously close to devotion.

“i really fucking do.”

outside, the city will wake up again. the lights will return, people will move on, life will resume like nothing happened.

but in this room, in this bed, wrapped in baëkhyun’s arms—

the world still belongs to him.

⟢ xiūmin

“tell me what's your kink. gimme the dick!”

it starts with a single ice cube gliding along your skin.

“cold?’ xiūmin murmurs, watching you flinch as the frozen edge drags down the curve of your stomach. his fingers, warm in contrast, follow right behind, soothing the goosebumps rising in its wake.

“y-yeah,” you admit, breath hitching, but you don’t pull away. the contrast between heat and ice sends a shiver through you, but underneath the initial shock, there’s something else—something thrilling.

xiūmin smirks. “good.”

he presses the melting ice against your collarbone, tracing the delicate line, the cold bite making you gasp. your hands twitch at your sides, not knowing whether to push him away or pull him closer. he notices, of course. his gaze darkens, flicking up to meet yours.

“relax. just feel.”

you nod, swallowing hard.

then he gets bolder.

the ice trails lower, circling a peaked nipple, and the sharp chill makes your back arch instantly. “oh—” your moan cuts off as his lips replace the ice, tongue lapping at the sensitive skin warmed by his mouth. the contrast is intoxicating, a push and pull between fire and frost, and it makes your head spin.

“so sensitive,” he muses, rolling the ice between his fingers before pressing it to the inside of your thigh, drawing slow, teasing patterns. you can barely handle it, hips shifting desperately as the cold sears pleasure straight to your core.

“xiū, please,” you whimper, barely recognizing your own voice. you weren’t expecting to react this intensely, but your body is on fire, every nerve ending hyperaware. the ice is melting fast now, water trickling down your skin, and his lips chase the droplets, tongue laving up the trails left behind.

he smirks as he shifts lower, spreading your thighs apart. the remaining ice cube in his fingers drags over the most sensitive part of you, the freezing contrast against your heat making you cry out. your body jolts at the intensity, legs trembling as he watches you come undone under his touch.

“fuck, you’re dripping for me already,” he groans, pushing the ice deeper between your folds, rolling it over your clit, and you swear your vision goes white. your fingers clutch the sheets, desperate and overwhelmed, a wreck beneath him.

“please—oh my god—” you choke out, hips twitching involuntarily as he circles the ice around your entrance, teasing. your body is thrumming, nerves sizzling from the unbearable pleasure.

when the ice finally melts, he replaces it with his mouth, lips wrapping around your swollen, oversensitive bud as he moans against you, the vibrations making you arch off the bed. his tongue is hot, relentless, flicking and sucking until you’re seeing stars, legs trembling on either side of his head.

“more,” you beg, voice wrecked, breathless.

his fingers slip inside, stretching you open as his mouth works you over, lapping at you like he’s starving. your release crashes over you so hard your entire body locks up, toes curling as you cry out his name, drowning in pleasure.

he doesn’t stop.

he keeps going, drawing every last wave out of you, overstimulating you until you’re shuddering, begging him to slow down. finally, he pulls away, his lips and chin glistening, eyes dark and hungry as he looks up at you.

he shifts over you, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress, and his cock presses against your entrance, teasing, testing. he kisses you, slow and deep, before whispering, “ready?”

nervous, but desperate, you nod. “yes.”

he pushes in, slow and careful, letting you adjust to the stretch. the fullness steals your breath, but the burn melts into pleasure quickly, your body molding to him like you were made for this.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, voice strained as he fights to go slow, to let you savor the sensation.

but soon, your fingers claw at his back, your hips rising to meet his. “move. please.”

he doesn't need to be told twice.

he starts slow, deep, but the moment he hears you moan—really moan—he loses himself. his pace quickens, his thrusts turning desperate, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

“so tight, so perfect,” he grits out, watching your face contort with pleasure. “you love this, don’t you?”

“yes—yes, oh my god—”

he slips a hand between your bodies, circling your swollen clit, determined to push you over the edge again, and again, and again. the pleasure is fucking overwhelming, everything too much and not enough at the same time, and when you finally cum, it’s with a cry that echoes through the room.

xiūmin follows moments later, burying himself deep inside you with a guttural groan, his body shuddering as he spills into you.

for a moment, all that fills the room is the sound of heavy breathing, the lingering tremors of pleasure humming through both of you. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, a contrast to the intensity of what just happened.

“told ya you'd like it,” he murmurs against your skin, smug and satisfied.

with what little strength you have left, you manage a breathless laugh. “i loved it.”

his smirk returns, darker this time. “good. because next time, i’m making you beg for it.”

⟢ läy  

“eat it like i need an apron on! eat it ‘til i need to change my thong!”

läy starts slow. agonizingly slow.

his lips are soft as they graze over the inside of your thighs, planting open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin, tongue darting out to taste the warmth of your body. his breath is hot, heavy, teasing. he knows what you want, knows how badly you need him between your legs, but he takes his time.

“you’re already so wet,” he murmurs, nosing against your clothed core, his voice rough with something dark, something hungry. “i haven’t even touched you properly yet.”

his fingers ghost over your hips, gripping just tight enough to make you squirm, just firm enough to let you know you aren’t going anywhere. then, finally, he leans in and drags his tongue up the center of your lace-covered slit, slow and deliberate.

a whimper leaves your lips. your hips lift off the bed, seeking more friction, but läy’s hands are there to press you back down.

“be patient,” he chides, but his voice is thick with need.

he presses his mouth against you fully this time, lips sealing over the damp fabric, tongue working slow circles over your clit through the lace. the friction of it—the way the fabric catches just slightly, the heat of his mouth dampening it further—makes you arch against him, your fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer.

“one,” you breathe, already trembling.

his laugh is dark, warm, reverberating against your core. “one already?” he teases, licking at you again, this time with more pressure, more intent.

your answer is a broken moan.

he flattens his tongue and drags it up your slit again, the lace sticking wetly to your folds, your arousal soaking through as he laps at you like he’s savoring every drop. his fingers dig into your thighs as he holds you still, his mouth working you over until your vision blurs, pleasure cresting through your body.

“two,” you choke out, and läy hums approvingly, his tongue flicking over your clit just right, sending another jolt of pleasure straight through you.

your legs shake as he keeps going, undeterred by your gasping breaths, your restless hips. his hands tighten around your thighs, pushing them wider as he angles himself deeper. then, with slow, deliberate precision, he tilts his head and uses his tongue to push the lace aside, baring you to him completely.

“fuck,” he breathes.

his eyes flick up to yours, and the heat in his gaze makes your stomach flip, makes your breath catch in your throat.

“so pretty,” he murmurs before dipping his head back down.

this time, there's nothing between you. no fabric, no barrier—just his mouth, hot and wet, sealing over your cunt like he wants to drown in you.

his tongue slides deep, licking into you before dragging up to flick over your clit again. his nose presses against you, his lips closing around your swollen bud, sucking gently, then harder, and your hands clutch at the sheets, at his hair, at anything you can grab onto as he devours you.

“three,” you gasp, your body already teetering on the edge again.

he doesn’t slow. doesn’t stop. his fingers slide through your slick folds before pressing into you, curling against that sweet spot inside you, the one that makes you cry out his name. he works you open with practiced ease, fucking you with his fingers as his tongue works over your clit, coaxing you into another mind-numbing release.

“four,” you sob, thighs shaking around his head, but he only groans in response, the sound vibrating against your clit, making you tremble even harder.

he doesn’t give you time to recover. doesn’t let up. his fingers press deeper, his tongue moving faster, and before you know it, your body is seizing up again, another orgasm crashing through you so hard that you can’t even form words, can’t even count.

“five,” you whisper, barely audible.

and then, finally, he pulls back, his lips and chin glistening with your slick, his eyes dark with something insatiable.

you’re still catching your breath when he shifts onto his knees, hands moving to his belt, unbuckling it with slow, deliberate movements. your heart stutters as he unbuttons his pants, dragging the zipper down, freeing himself from the confines of his clothes.

his cock is hard, flushed, dripping, and he wraps a hand around the base, stroking himself once, twice, as he looks down at you with a smirk that sends a fresh wave of arousal pooling between your thighs.

“okay,” he says, positioning himself between your legs, rubbing the thick head of his cock over your oversensitive clit. 

and then he sinks into you, slow and deep, and you swear you see stars.

“fuck,” läy groans, forehead pressing against yours, his hands gripping your thighs as he bottoms out. “angel… you’re—” his words cut off into a sharp exhale, his jaw clenching as he struggles to hold himself together.

you’re gripping him so tight, wrapped around him so perfectly, your walls pulsing, clinging onto him like you never want to let go. and fuck, he’s barely keeping it together.

“läy”, you whimper, rolling your hips up, desperate to feel more, to push him deeper.

his hands tighten on you instinctively, his fingers digging into your flesh like he's trying to ground himself, like he's trying not to lose himself completely in the heat of you.

“you're so fucking tight,” he mutters, his voice rough, wrecked. “i can’t—fuck, i can’t—”

but you don’t let him finish.

your hands reach up, fingers curling around the back of his neck, tugging him closer until your lips brush against his, your breath mingling with his.

“don’t hold back,” you whisper, eyes locking onto his, and something in him snaps.

his control slips. his hips jerk forward, burying himself as deep as he can go, and a choked moan spills from his lips at the way you squeeze around him.

“baby,” he groans, and you swear you can feel his cock twitch inside you, the way his body trembles with the effort of keeping himself from coming too soon.

but you want him to.

you want to push him past the edge, to make him lose himself in you the way he just made you fall apart over and over again.

so you move.

you plant your feet against the bed and lift your hips, fucking yourself up onto him, dragging him deeper, meeting every one of his thrusts with desperate, rolling movements that make his breath hitch and his arms shake.

“fuck—fuck, angel—” he gasps, and his hands fly to your waist, trying to slow you down, trying to hold on, but you don’t let him.

you pull him closer, your grip on his neck tightening, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, “cum for me, baby. give it to me.”

his groan is guttural, a deep, broken sound as his hips snap forward, movements turning erratic, frantic, desperate.

“fuck—i'm—” he chokes out, his head dropping to your shoulder as he buries himself as deep as he can go, hips pressing flush against yours as he spills into you, white-hot pleasure crashing over him in waves.

he moans your name, his hands gripping you like a lifeline as he grinds into you, making sure every last drop is buried deep inside.

your fingers tangle into his damp hair, your lips pressing soft, slow kisses against his temple as his breathing evens out, as he slowly comes down from the high of it all.

“you okay?” you murmur, still holding him close.

he lifts his head, and his gaze is soft, warm, so full of something tender that it makes your chest ache.

“yeah,” he breathes, a lazy smile curling at the edges of his lips. “i just… think i fell completely fucking in love with you.”

your heart stutters.

“yeah?” you tease, your fingers tracing circles against the nape of his neck. “that good, huh?”

his laugh is quiet, sweet, and he presses a lingering kiss to your lips before murmuring against them, “it’s always that good with you.”

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* masterlist ° ᡣ𐭩 . 

[goddess-venuz]

SIMP CHAPTER 21

FEVER BURST ACROSS YURI'S CHEEKS...

His slender fingers curled into his palms; his biceps flexing, his head lulled back against the headboard; his chest rising and falling at a steady pace- a low moan escapes his lips,

"(Y/n)~"

The muffled sound of vibrations silently rung through the bedroom; Yuri twisted as he attempted to keep his moans to a bare medium only exhaling sharply once the vibrating cock ring was removed from his swollen tip.

"Yuri~... How many times do I have to tell you, to stay quiet? Hm?"

"I-It's hard when you keep- doing that!-" Biting on his lower lip, a low moan vibrating through his teeth as you wrapped the cock ring around his swollen crown; fully adjusting it- you held the remote in your grasp mercilessly eyeing Yuri's twitching cock.

The male's muscles tightened as the waves of vibrations coursed through his crown; precum leaking through the slit of his cock, his handcuffed hands resting above his head as he was forced to sit up against the headboard, "(Y/n)- Please..."

"Hm? Please what? Increase the power?"

Clicking the button earns a hitched moan to rip past Yuri's lips; his hips bucking unconsciously at the increasing vibrations. "I- hah- fuck!-"

"You know, it wasn't nice overdoing it the first time we had sex..."

'You made me delayed on my mission... I wasn't able to even scope out my target because of you'

Apple's apple bobbing; swallowing thickly, Yuri tilted his head back eyeing the ceiling above his head. "G-God!... (Y/n)-... Please-... I'm sorry-... Fuck... I'm about to cum-"

"Nope."

Turning off the cock ring, his shoulders collapsed as you had once again robbed him of his release; his chest heaving heavily- "Why?" releasing a whimper, Yuri felt your fingers grasping his chin.

Tilting his chin down to gaze into your irises; a smirk inched across your lips, your touch cooling to his heated face. "You can't cum until I'm satisfied. And I want you to beg for me to allow you to cum. Understood?"

Pressing his lips together, you grabbed the chain connected to his handcuffs; yanking him forward, Yuri's lips parted- he felt his heart picking up speed as your heated gaze bore into his hues.

"Answer me."

"Y...Yes."

Flashing a smirk, you released the cuffs; patting his cheek then clicked the button once more resulting in the cock ring activating once more.

"Now we could start the fun. If you want to cum, shouldn't your wife have the chance to cum with you?"

"Y-Yes."

Stammering out; Yuri averted his gaze to his handcuffs, a hint of need flashing across his irises- "Can I get out of these now?" He questioned; you hummed in slight ponder before responding. "Not until I feel like you have been a good husband and deserve for it to be taken off. So how are you going to do that?-"

Being cut off by Yuri pushing himself off the headboard to place both palms against your shoulder blades; he shoved you on your back taking you by surprise, cheeks flushed a dark red- Yuri's crimson irises bore down at your nude figure;

"I'll eat you out until you are left shaken."

Trying to adjust himself to lean forward; placing his cuffed hands underneath his figure, Yuri parted his lips as he curled his tongue against your folds- feeling the excitement twist within your stomach upon feeling your cunt being greeted by Yuri's tongue.

Combing your fingers through his strains; your back arching ever so slightly, your other hand that held the remote firmly rested above your head.

Without the use of his hands, it only resulted in Yuri burying his lips further into your soaked core; curling his tongue between your walls- he knew he had to make up for the loss of his fingers.

Dragging his tongue across your slick slit to your awaiting clit, Yuri's half-lidded gaze stayed fixated on your facial expression; eyelids fluttering shut feeling his lips engulf your clit.

A hushed gasp rolled off your tongue at the sensation of your swollen bud being tended to hungrily; "God... Yuri...." moaning out his name in a hushed tone; your thumb pressed against the button once more increasing-

A low moan vibrates against your clit; Yuri's fingers curling against the bedsheets- his hips rolling at the unbearable vibrations, his swollen tip rubbing needily against the mattress.

Lips parting from your clit; a strain of salvia connecting, Yuri rested his cheek against your thigh- his shoulders shuddering as his eyelids fluttered shut; the amount of relief beginning to build up.

"A-Ah-... Ah-... Fuck-"

Hissing against your flesh; Yuri's shoulders tensed up, his cock twitching- his body falling limb upon feeling the sudden seize of the vibrations against his cock.

Eyelids gradually opened; Yuri hissed through his teeth feeling your fingers curling roughly through his strains, pulling his head back slightly- The man forced to sit up as you brought yourself up with him.

"I'm sure at this point, It's just making us both suffer... So, what is it that you want, Yuri?... Hm?"

Giving a sharp tug to his strains; Yuri's back arched at the hint of pleasure shooting across his limbs- the amount of need for release flooded his gaze;

There was no room for pride, he knew he needed his longing for release; the overwhelming edging was enough to make him fall on his knees to beg...

"(Y/n)... Darling... Let me cum..."

Lust blinding Yuri's brain; he leaned closer to your smaller frame, his redden lips brushing against yours- "I can't hold back any longer... I want you to use me... Let me fill you up with my cum- I want to be a good husband and please you to my full extent..."

Moving a hand to grasp his chin; you parted his lower lip with the tip of your finger, "That's all I needed to hear..." Capturing your lips in a hungry kiss; you climbed onto Yuri's lap-

Pressing the button once more on the cock ring; resting it on its highest setting- placing it to the side, straddling your hips against Yuri's twitching cock, your pelvis rolling in sync to his light bucking;

Lips parting ever so slightly upon feeling your hand grabbing his hardened cock; his crown lining at your cunt- resulting in a shudder hitched to roll past Yuri's lips. "(Y/n)- hurry... I feel like I'm about to explode..." Muttering against your lips; a low moan escapes his lungs once his cock is finally welcomed with the warmth of your slit.

Feeling your walls stretching to his length once more; a closed-lipped moan came from you. "Yuri-... Let's cum together... Isn't that good as a reward? You cumming inside of me?"

Bouncing your hips at a steady pace; vibrating quivering your walls from the cock ring- Yuri's

Crimson hues gleamed with excited lust he jolts at your request, disbelieving but interested in the prospect. "Are you sure?" His wrists shifted through the cuffs.

Nodding you forced your eyes to open, gazing up at him with a heaved pant escaping your swollen lips "Mhm~... For being a good husband you deserve it!-"

That vein on his cock pulses wildly, He buries his head into your neck with a groan, vibrating against the curve. "(Y/n)" he croaks, muffled and huskily, unexpectedly the sound of metal snapping brought you from your lust trance-

Eyes widened upon feeling Yuri wrapping his arms around your plush waist; your body being pulled closer to his, your hardened nipples rubbing against your firm chest.

He had broken the handcuffs-

'Does that means...'

"I couldn't have easily broken these a long time ago but damnit I was so turned on..."

Lips peppering heated kisses against the nape of your neck to underneath your chin, a sharp thrust given to your pelvis resulting in your hips to bounce more at a rapid pace against Yuri's.

"Y-Yuri!-"

A hand clapped over your lips; Yuri flopped you on your back, burying his face between your breasts; his hips needily snapping upwards with no remorse- cheeks flushed with fever, salvia collecting at the corners of his lips from the amount of pleasure.

"S-Shush-... Remember? Gotta... Fuck... Fuck..." Whimpering against your flesh; the increased vibrations of the cock ring with the warmth and tightened around his hardened cock,

Resting His chin between your breasts; the male removed his palm from your lips to grasp your hip- raising your ass slightly above the mattress, you were unable to form words at the unspeakable pleasure that coursed through you.

An orgasm electrifies underneath your skin and tightens in your lower stomach, lips parted- your eyes wide as your chest heaved; a strain of hitch gasping escapes your swollen lips, goosebumps littered your heated flesh like a plague that followed with pure ecstasy.

"Damn.." he chokes, cheeks flushed and jaw clenched. Thrusts only increase as Yuri blindly chased his longing orgasm, his hips snapping as seemingly endless spurts glazed your walls;

Pressing his lips against your flushed breasts to contain his low moans; Yuri's shoulders tensed before his body fall heavily limp against yours resulting in your body finally collapsing against the silky sheets underneath your bodies.

Feeling his cock twitch in your warm folds until Ever so slowly Yuri pulled out, the man gazed down at his cum coated cock as the mixed fluids leaked from your swollen cunt.

Cum glazed cock twitching at the never-ending vibrations from the toy; Yuri rubbed his face against your breasts- "Darling-... The remote, please..."

A light breathless chuckle escapes your lips; resulting in Yuri lifting his face slightly to gaze up at you, combing your fingers through his strains until you pulled his head back by the ends of his locks- Yuri felt his heart fluttering at the glazed lustful gaze you greeted him with.

"Who said we were done, Slut?"

[bktempted]

Homesick. You don’t remember the exact moment when you stopped fighting it. Was it the ropes, the blindfolds, the endless nights of his voice echoing in your skull? It's all blurred into a haze now, but eventually, resistance just… dissolved. Now, you’re his. Not in some sappy, star crossed way, but in the way a blade belongs to the hand that wields it. Sharp, violent, reliable. He’s reshaped you, twisted you into his sex addicted plaything, and the worst part — or maybe the best — is how he rubs it in your face. Literally. Figuratively. Dragging you back to places that used to mean something to you.

Today, it’s your old school. The brick building looms a block away, its windows glinting like judgmental eyes in the late afternoon sun. He’s got you pinned against the chain link fence of the abandoned lot nearby, your skirt hiked up, panties yanked to your ankles. The metal bites into your back as he thrusts into you, slow and deep, savoring the look of longing on your face. You can hear the faint echo of your friends laughing from years ago. It’s so close, so fucking close, and your cunt's already soaking, wetness running down your thighs.

“There's no going back,” he laughs, gripping your chin to force your gaze toward the school. “You’re not that girl who sat in class, doodling in notebooks. You’re mine now. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you whimper, voice cracking as he slams into you harder. Your fingers claw at the fence, the rust flaking under your nails. “I’m yours. I'm so much better now!”

He chuckles, low and mean. “You know, they forgot about you a long time ago. Now you're just some random whore, begging for my cock. You’re never going back, slut. Never.”

Your cunt clenches around him at that, a tight, desperate squeeze that makes you gasp. It’s the only way you can cum now. He has to say it, has to remind you that you’re his forever, that the old you is gone. “Please,” you moan, hips bucking against him. “Say it again. Tell me I’m never going back.”

He grins, teeth flashing like a predator’s. “You’re never going back. You’re stuck with me, my little addict. Repeat it.”

“I’m never going back,” you chant, voice hitching as he picks up the pace, fucking you raw against the fence. “I’m never going back. I'M NEVER GOING BACK!” The words spill out as you shatter, cumming hard around his cock, your whole body shaking as the pleasure rips through you. You can feel the school watching, silent, disappointed maybe, and it only makes you want him more.

---

A week later, it’s your old job. The shitty little coffee shop sits across the street, the neon “Open” sign flickering, mocking you. He’s got you bent over the hood of his car in the alley behind the pawn shop next door, your cheek pressed to the cold metal. The smell of burnt espresso drifts over from the dumpster nearby, and it twists something in your stomach. It used to be you in there, flirting with regulars for tips. Now you’re here, ass up, taking him deep while he groans about how pathetic you’ve become.

“You think they’d let you back behind the counter now?” he taunts, one hand twisted in your hair as he pounds into you. “Nah, you’re too far gone. You can't work. You’re just my cock sleeve now. This is all you’re good for.”

“Yes, yes, I’m yours,” you babble, voice hoarse from moaning. “I don’t want to work. I don’t want any of it. Just you. Just this. Harder, please!” Your cunt's a mess, juices coating his cock as he drives into you. The thought of someone from the shop stepping out for a break, seeing you like this... You’d die happy if they did. You’d cum harder than ever.

---

But it’s your parents’ house that breaks you the most. He takes you there at dusk, parking just down the street in the wooded lot where you used to ride your bike. The roof peeks through the trees, and your chest tightens, but not with nostalgia. With lust. He’s got you on your knees in the dirt, his cock shoved down your throat while he leans against a tree, looking at the house, then back at you like you're a monument he stole.

“Home sweet home,” he sneers, thrusting deeper until you gag. Not that they'd recognize you. You're not their sweet girl anymore.”

You pull off just enough to gasp, spit trailing from your lips. “I don’t care about them,” you rasp, voice wrecked. “I’m not theirs. I’m yours. I don’t want to go back there. Ever!” Your cunts throbbing again, dripping onto the leaves below, "Don't make me go back, keep fucking me, please!" You don’t even wait for him to answer — you climb him, wrapping your legs around his waist, sinking down onto his cock with a sob.

He laughs, turning to pin you against the tree. “Don't worry, slut. You're never going home.”

“I’m never going home,” you moan, loud enough that it feels dangerous, like someone might hear. “I’m never going home. I’m yours. I’m yours forever!” You come undone, screaming it into the twilight, your cunt pulsing around him as the house sits there, so close, so far, a ghost of a life you'll never miss.

[novaursa]

Love your stories! I had a request.

Could you please do a Euron/YN story? I'm thinking maybe Y/N could be a captive aboard the Silence.

Another request: please make this story as unhinged and dark as possible. I know that's your specialty.

She Who Sleeps Beneath

- Summary: Euron believes he captured a god, but the truth is, you are something far more terrible.

- Pairing: reader/Euron Greyjoy

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (all flags are up for this one)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @idenyimimdenial

- A/N: You let me off the leash and I went rabid.

The deck of Silence reeked of blood, salt, and madness. You hung there like a fallen angel—if angels ever came from the black abysses beneath the world—naked and slick with brine, eyes too wide, too still, too ancient for the form they now wore. A girl, they thought. A girl no older than fifteen summers, skin like cold wax, hair clinging to your shoulders in tendrils like kelp. But you were no girl. No thing so simple. You watched them with that eerie stillness, as if you could already see the meat peeling from their bones.

Euron Greyjoy stood over you, barefoot on the red-slick planks, his lips parted in something between a grin and a religious trance. His good eye blazed with sea-glass hunger. The other, the black one, was a void, a maw, an open mouth with no throat. His robes were stained with salt and old gore, his teeth sharp from too many dreams of gnawing on the divine. You smelled it on him—madness, rot, old blood, and something older, something deeper.

He had hunted you for ten years.

Ten years of storms and slaughter, of necromancers flayed on his deck for answers, of sailors thrown screaming into the sea with bells tied to their ankles so he could hear the deep sing back. Ten years chasing whispers, wet footprints on stone, sightings of a girl in glassy waters, ships swallowed whole in perfect silence.

And now you were here. Lashed in chains made from weirwood roots and black iron, soaked in oils scoured from drowned priests and unborn calves. Your eyes blinked once. Slowly. He shuddered.

“She’s mine,” Euron whispered, turning to his crew with arms spread wide. “Do you hear it? Do you feel it?” He laughed, a hideous, choking sound. “She’s the womb of gods! The mother of tides and ruin. I will crawl inside her and be reborn. I will tear sons from her belly that will drink the stars dry.”

The crew didn’t answer. Most didn’t dare meet your gaze. One of the thralls muttered a prayer before Euron silenced him with a knife through the throat.

“They don’t understand,” he crooned, dropping to his knees before you. He cupped your face like you were something delicate, a relic pulled from a drowned city. “But I do. I’ve seen you in my dreams. You walked through the weeping tunnels beneath the world. You tore kings in half with your teeth. You laid with leviathans, and birthed monsters that swallowed continents.” His breath was foul, his words reverent.

You said nothing. Your lips were blue, faintly cracked, and you blinked again.

Inside, you imagined the taste of his tongue.

You imagined how he would scream when you split his ribs open and wore his lungs like wings. You had done it before. Long ago, in a different form, before the world remembered sunlight. Your mind slithered through time like a serpent through ruins, tasting his flesh already. He thought he’d won. But you knew better. You’d let him find you. You’d let him drag you aboard this rotting ark, because now you were close.

Close enough to smell the iron in his blood.

“I’ll fill her with god-seed,” Euron declared, rising now, arms shaking with the strength of his madness. “Every night. Every tide. Until her belly swells and bursts with children. They will climb from her screaming like stormspawn. They’ll walk on water. They’ll tear down the gods of men.”

One of his lieutenants—Qarlen, you remembered, a thick-necked man with red boils on his arms—spoke then, voice unsure. “She don’t look like she can bear no babes, Captain. She looks like a child.”

Euron turned slowly. “Do you question me?” His voice was quiet, terrifying.

Qarlen took a step back. “No, Captain. Just… she ain’t natural.”

“Exactly,” Euron whispered. “That’s the point.” He turned back to you and pressed his forehead to yours, trembling. “You’re not of this world. You’re from the dark before time. You’re the end of all things. You’re mine.”

Your eyes flicked down to his throat. You knew where his arteries pulsed. You fantasized about puncturing them with your nails. Or your teeth. Or the ridged mandibles that slumbered beneath your tongue. For now, you waited. Let him think you weak. Let him feel victorious.

Let him feed you.

He kissed your forehead. You barely felt it.

“I’ll keep you beneath,” he said. “In the hold. Where the bones sing. And when the moon’s high, I’ll come down and pray. I’ll anoint your belly with blood and salt. You’ll give me a kingdom of horrors, won’t you, my love?”

You smiled. Just barely.

One day, you would eat him alive. You would peel his skin and wear it long enough to whisper madness into every ear that had ever heard his name. You would sing his death-song in a voice of knives and drown this ship in his screams.

But for now, you closed your eyes and let him dream.

The hold of Silence was a womb of black and brine, thick with the reek of mildew, blood, and the slow rot of things too long kept in the dark. No torch burned there. Only the phosphorescent glow of barnacles smeared across old hull planks, casting a sickly, pulsing light that seemed to breathe. You lay upon a slab of driftwood and rusted chains, cold as stone, your skin still glistening with sea-slick and salt.

Above you loomed Euron.

He was shirtless, glistening with sweat, eye wild and unblinking, and every breath he took shuddered like a man possessed. His voice was a rasp, thick with reverence and lust.

“You’ll remember this,” he whispered, as if speaking to a goddess. “You’ll carry me inside you, the way the sea carries the bones of drowned kings. You were made for this.”

You didn’t answer. You watched him with those still, glassy eyes—empty of resistance, of emotion, of anything resembling fear. It pleased him.

He tore what little covered you and pressed himself to your cool flesh, trembling with desire and terror. You were pliant beneath him, as silent as the dead, your breath shallow, body unmoving save for the gentle rise and fall of your chest. He didn’t notice the way your pupils dilated—long, vertical slits slicing through the black of your eyes like cracks in reality. He didn't see how your mouth twitched, just slightly, as if remembering how to split wide.

His hands roamed your skin as he whispered profanities and prayers in the same breath, groaning your name—though he did not know it. He called you Womb of the Abyss, Bride of Leviathans, Mother of the Next World.

And then it was done.

Euron collapsed atop you, breath ragged, lips pressed against your neck as he muttered a lullaby you did not understand. “You are mine. You are mine. My queen of horrors. My whore of the deep. My vessel…”

You did not move.

Until you did.

Something shifted beneath your flesh.

Your hands—small and pale—snapped shut around his wrists with a strength that no child should possess. He tensed, startled, but before his mouth could form a question, your head turned toward him. Slowly. Inhumanly. Your lips peeled back in something that could not be called a smile.

There were too many teeth.

The skin on your face rippled, peeled, tore—and something inside unfurled.

Euron screamed.

It was a wet, helpless sound, sharp with panic and disbelief. He tried to pull back, but your body had opened like a blooming flower, your limbs lengthening, black carapace gleaming beneath tearing flesh. Bone cracked as your arms split at the elbows, long fingers stretching into jagged claws. Your chest split down the middle with a sickening wet pop, revealing a slick, chitinous maw, and your tongue uncoiled like a whip of muscle and hooks.

“You were inside me,” you said, but the voice was not yours. It was before you. A thousand voices murmured beneath it—dripping, wet, writhing things. “Now I will be inside you.”

He tried to scream again, but your tongue lashed around his throat and pulled him down.

You bit into his face first.

The eye—the real one—popped between your jaws. The black one, the void, you sucked from the socket like marrow from a bone. He thrashed, blood spilling in great pulsing waves, staining the planks with steaming crimson. You tore his chest open next, ribs cracking like splintering ice. His heart was a hot, twitching thing between your teeth.

He died gurgling your name.

You chewed.

When it was over, what remained of Euron Greyjoy was a mess of bone and pulp strewn across the floor of his own ship, dragged into a rough spiral by your claws—a mark left by your kind long ago, older than speech, older than gods. You stood in the wreck of your human skin, the shape of you now monstrous—taller, lithe, slick with mucous and blood. Your body gleamed with armored plates and sinew. Four eyes blinked across your face. The mandibles twitched.

And you breathed.

Climbing the steps, you emerged into the moonlight, glistening and grotesque.

The crew froze. Every man on deck stared at you. Some dropped to their knees in horror, others backed away until they fell overboard. None moved to stop you.

You walked through them without fear. Their terror was thick, savory, and you basked in it. A few dared to speak your name, to whisper of monsters and old stories, but no one followed as you reached the edge of the deck.

You looked back once. The wind blew through your hair—what little remained of it—and your jaw distended with a hiss that silenced every mouth.

Then you leapt.

You hit the water without a sound, and the sea accepted you like a mother reclaiming her child.

And Silence was truly silent at last.

[frogsinflannel]

🌊🌊🌊

love a good pacrim au

Thank you for the prompt! This is All Vibes right now, as I'm still getting a lot of the worldbuilding (and overall plot) worked out. But here's pretty early in the story, before Buck and Tommy go out on their first drop.

(okay first i must make a disclaimer that I know I named Sal and Tommy's jaeger [something] Javeline, and I'm only 75% sure it was glass javeline. where did i put my notes for this, help.)

~~~

owchies, bt angst week got me for this one. no specific warnings, but tommy's in a real bad headspace.

prau: waltz

Blood seeped through the bandages on his knuckles and there was a band of pressure around his chest.

“Tommy.”

“Leave it, Buck,” he said, looking over his shoulder.  His hands clenched into fists at his sides and it hurt.  He took a deep breath, lungs big and full, spread open from the pain.  He wanted to hit something again, to split himself open down to the bone.  He grabbed his towel from the bench and wiped down his neck and shoulders.  Buckley wasn’t saying anything and Tommy hoped–Christ, did he hope–that the kid would take the hint and leave him alone.  He grabbed his bottle of water, back to the training area, and opened it.  He closed his eyes and let it gush cool into his mouth.  A few swallows later and he let out a ragged, satisfied sigh.  He wiped his hand with the back of his mouth and started to pack up his gear.

“So what?”  Buckley’s voice was petulant, verging on angry, and Tommy’s hackles raised before he could stop it.  “You’re just going to leave?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said.  He zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulder.  “I need to eat and then I’m going to my bunk.”  He finally looks over and gives the other man a sharp smile.  “Alone.”

Buckley huffs, his arms crossed over his chest, one hip cocked and his feet spread apart.  He looked sturdy.  He looked dangerous, both to Tommy’s composure and his physical well-being because seeing him like that, bratty, poking at a bear he didn’t fucking understand, makes something crawl up Tommy’s spine and leave him spoiling for a fight.

“How are we going to handle Zephyr if we can’t get along?  If we can’t talk?  Do you think you can hide it from me when we’re Drifting, huh?  If you chase the rabbit—”

“I won’t,” Tommy bites out.  He sounds mean, he knows, and he doesn’t care.  He feels like an old dog dragged out by the chain around its neck, ready to be put down.  He didn’t ask for this.  He didn’t want this.  And he sure as hell doesn’t need this, not this brash, impulsive energy sink of Nash’s who acts like he’s got something to prove and won’t take no for a fucking answer.  Tommy wants to be meaner.  He wants to bare his teeth.  “I piloted for years before you, Buckley, I know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, but that was with DeLuca and—”

“Don’t,” Tommy snarls.  He walks over, pushing into Buckley’s space, jabbing a finger into his chest.  His eyes dart down to his bloodstained wrap but Tommy couldn’t give less of a shit about that now.  “I’m not going to talk about Javeline, and I’m not going to talk about Sal.  I’m here because I’m the last poor sap they could find who knows how to pilot a Jaeger and hasn’t already been chewed-up or killed.  They don’t have to train me and I don’t have anything that I’m going to leave behind when I go.  So I know why I’m here.  To fight the kaiju, take some of those fuckers out, and then die about it.  That’s all you need to know.  Got it?”

Buckley’s his size, maybe a little leaner but just as tall as he is, and though normally Tommy is careful about not using his size to his advantage, now he leans into it, now he presses in, makes himself as tall as he can, curls in with his hands raised knowing what he looks like.  A threat.

Buckley’s eyes are on his, gleaming with an anger that’s banked and heavy.  His pupils are dilated.  His breaths come out through his mouth, pumping the packed muscle of his chest.  Tommy wants to drive his fist into his face.  Tommy wants to—

He steps backward, palms up.  “That’s all,” he says.  “Got it?”

“Yeah,” Buckley says.  His voice is softer, but edged with steel.  “I got it.”

Tommy leaves.  He knows he needs to eat, and he knows that if eats he’ll hurl, so he heads to his bunk.  He throws his stuff on the floor and throws himself onto his cot.  He yells hoarse open-mouthed into his pillow, pressing into the cover, feeling it grow damp with his spit.

Sal’s face haunts him and Debbie Harry’s voice plays like a broken record in his mind.

Soon found out… Soon found out…Soon found out…

He had a heart of fucking glass.

make me write

[short-honey-badger]

So. I think it's time that I buckle down and start a nice, long fic for good ole Shamrock. I'm planning for something full of angst and hurt comfort. Some character introspection for Sham, too. Go over his daddy issues and his past a little bit. *i know that we hardly know this man, but like. I can't help myself. So im sure his past won't be anywhere connected to what we learn in the Manga. But like. It's fanfic, so we're all delulu here anyway.* Anyways! I've got the barebones of it written down in my handy dandy notebook, but I wanted to post a little beginning snippet! Please enjoy!

What is loyalty if it means nothing in the end?

Pairings! Shanks x Female Reader and eventual Shanks x Female Reader x Figarland Shamrock

Warnings! *blood and torture* more tags to come!

Pain explodes across his back, the cat o nine tails striking him once more. He grits his teeth against it, unwilling to make any kind of noise, unwilling to give his father an ounce of satisfaction. His knees ached, his wrists chaffing against the thick, steel woven cables that kept them lashed together. Shamrock has been kneeling against the stone floor for hours, stripped of all of his gear, his uniform, down to nothing but basic, common clothes that a slave would wear.

He jerks again when the whip strikes down, slicing into his flesh and sending rivets of dark blood sliding down his back. It drips down to join the slowly growing puddle beneath him, and Shamrock forces himself not to look away from it.

The redhead had awoken like this, lashed hands tied together and chained to a single metal pole in the middle of the stone room. He knew where he was. He himself had dragged more than one insolent pirate inside this room and stripped them bare, torturing them for information. Starved and beaten, they would usually break within a week. How he had not awoken, the holy knight did not know, but he was here now and at his father’s mercy.

Link to AO3 -> HERE

@mit-suri @sanjisleggy @nocturnalrorobin @mfreedomstuff @sordidmusings

[sky-kiss]

Imagine Raphael giving you to Haarlep to cycle between edging and overstim for a day + aftercare. The next day Raphael puts you in suspension bondage and occasionally walks up while he is reading to play with your still raw and over sensitive clit/cock.

Plucking, stroking, teasing until your voice breaks. Then he walks away, licking his fingers.

A/N: I MEAN. HERE’S THE THING. Nothing I write is going to be able to touch that. But I will try. Hopefully you like it. Hiding sin under gif.

Raph x Haarlep x Reader (GN): HAHA I'M IN DANGER

___

He gives you to Haarlep to "rest." 

Of course, he smiles as he says it, eyes glittering specks of hellfire. He waves you away with a small smile and a pat on the ass. Raphael's good little toy, obedient and deserving a touch of kindness after hours at the devil's mercy. Every muscle in your body aches in the most delicious way, fingerprints emblazoned across your hips, shallow abrasions across your belly. Your throat is a ruin of kiss-sucked bruises. Precisely how he likes you, his pretty canvas.  

But you're tired. You need the rest. Haarlep coos to you, hands feathering over your hair. They touch and tease, massaging out the aching muscles in your lower back. The incubus always promises you the sweetest things, a whisper of affection as they settle between your thighs. 

It's "rest" only in the loosest sense of the word. You whine, hands clenching in the sheets. Sometimes, it's their mouth on you. It's an irresistible game, building you to a dizzying high only to pull back and leaving you wanting and cold. Up and up until you're left raw, a live wire sparking in the overheated air. You beg them to let you come. 

Haarlep always agrees. But a devil's acquiescence is rarely without cost. They stuff you full of cock, riding you until you're too hoarse to scream. They order you to come for them, laughing, bright, loud, and cruel. A hand fists in your hair, turning your face into the mattress. 

"Oh, my love, you asked for this, no?" He leans over you, licking up your spine. "Begged to come. Called me cruel! Wicked Haarlep!" You whimper. His right-hand snakes around your throat, squeezing and pulling you back against his chest. The incubus nips the shell of your ear, dragging the lobe between his teeth. "Scream for me, won't you? You can still do that much." 

You try. They make sure you try. But Haarlep is an industrious creature capable of making their own entertainment. After they've come, they flip you onto your back, moving you like their little doll. It's back to teeth and tongue, licking his mess clean, stroking you. It's too much. Pleasure and heat, spiraling until you think you'll black out. 

And the sweetest thing is that whenever you awaken, Haarlep is there, still toying with your body—building and breaking, building and breaking, over and over. 

One of them must hang you. You don't remember, blissed out, boneless. Raphael loves to display you like this: hanging near his desk, an art piece to observe at his leisure. The chains chafe a little, but you know that irritation will be dealt with after. For now, you enjoy the reprieve. There are no hands on you for the first time in what feels like days. 

"Did you enjoy your reprieve, mouse?" Raphael smiles at you, almost gentle, almost fond. There are so many possibilities, and your brain is too addled to parse any of them. He leans back in his seat, hands folded over his belly. "Haarlep lamented your performance. Uninspired, they called it." The cambion chuckles at this, humming. "But the results." 

He holds his arms out wide, smirking. Yes, the results- your ruination. Your head sags forward, chin resting on your chest. Raphael crosses the room, hooking a finger under your chin. The devil groans, kissing you deeply. His tongue presses past the seam of your lips, tasting you, dancing but not demanding. 

A contrast to the way he touches you. He doesn't build you to an orgasm; he wrenches it from your exhausted body, the touch stinging against your overstimulated flesh. You whimper into his mouth, twisting to take more, to get closer, to relieve the pressure in your wrists. He tuts. Raphael kisses your nose, your chin, your mouth. 

"Now, now, you know the game, mouse. Be very good, and we'll let you down early. For now…relax. Simple…be yourself." 

He pats your stomach and returns to his reading, brings his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean. 

[darksaiyangoku]

RWBY Christmas Tales

Blessing of the Hunt

It was Christmas Eve in the Kingdom of Vale and Jaune, Blake, Sun, Scarlet, Sage and Neptune all gathered around a table inside the Crow Bar tavern. Each of the boys guzzled on a large pint of beer, much to the concern of Blake.

Blake: Jaune, that's the fifth beer you've chugged down. Let me get you some water.

Jaune: Nononono, *giggles* I'm fiiiiiiiiine~

Blake: Jaune, sweetie, you're drunk.

Sage: Ah lay off him! *hic* After being dragged by that Nevermore, he's earned himself a treat!

Scarlet: Barkeep! Another round for my friends! *smashes cup on the floor*

Blake: *shakes head* I don't think so. *carries Jaune* Come on, Jaune.

Jaune: Wha? But we're having fuuuuuunnn!

Blake: You've had quite enough fun here, Mister. Besides, I'm not cleaning up after you again.

Jaune: Don't worrrrrrry, I got it *burp* all under control!

Blake: *groans* Let's just get out of here.

Blake waved goodbye to the SSSN Knights and carried her drunken boyfriend outside. She felt a cold tingle on her nose and looked up to find that it started to snow. She and Jaune trudged along the path to their house, with the snow falling faster and heavier. Soon the air turned biting cold and a low howl rumbled in Blake's ears. Her eyes shrank and her breath became sharp. They needed somewhere to hide. Fast. Blake's eyes darted around the landscape and they fell upon an icy forest. It wasn't perfect, but it should suffice for now. Blake quietly grunted as she trudged along, dragging Jaune. As she continued stepping forward, the howls grew louder and they were followed by the violent galloping of hooves. Blake had no time to think and hurled herself and Jaune behind a nearby tree.

Jaune: B-Blaaaake? Wha-

Blake: *covers Jaune's mouth* Shhhh. We have to be quiet. Otherwise we'll be seen by them.

Jaune: *whispers* W-Who?

Suddenly, a loud bang cracked the air and a pale horse appeared right in front of the couple. It had ghastly, glowing blue eyes and sat atop it was a cloaked man wearing a crow's mask and wielding a sword and chain Slowly, he turned his head and growled.

Wild Hunt Leader: Well, well, well. Looks like some travellers dared to venture into our forests. This place is off limits to mortals, I'm afraid.

Blake: *gulps*L-Listen, o' honourable leader of The Wild Hunt, we were only trying to escape from the snow and-

Wild Hunt Leader: I don't want to hear your excuses, dear. Those who trespass here have to pay the toll; your lives. *points sword* Don't worry, I'll be sure to make it quick.

The Wild Hunt Leader raised his sword to hack at Blake, but Jaune quickly rose up and grabbed the blade, wincing at cuts in his hands.

Jaune: Grrrr! Don'cha *hic* lay a fffffinger on herrrrrrr.

Blake: Jaune, no! What are you doing?!

Wild Hunt Leader: I'd listen to your beloved if I were you. No one has ever dared to fight us and survive. You're completely outclassed.

Jaune: Whooo ssssssaid anyshing abou fightin' ya? *giggles* I gotta bedder idea!

Blake: Oh for the love of- *facepalm*

Jaune: You and I play tugofwar! If we win, we go bye-bye! If you win, you can lemme be a while hunger!

Wild Hunt Leader: *chuckles* I assure you that we are not that desperate for new members, especially the living.

Jaune: Oh come onnnnnn! You chicken? Bawk-bawk-bawk.

Wild Hunt Leader: *laughs* Very well. *gives chain* We'll go three rounds. Good luck.

The Wild Hunt Leader gave one end of the chain to Jaune as he held onto the other and rode far away to other side of the forest. Blake was in complete shock. Jaune was impulsive and reckless, but she never known him to be this stupid. Her blood was boiling with anger and her brow furrowed.

Blake: What the hell were you thinking?! How could you gamble our very lives like this?! You do not stand a chance against him, you know that! Why would you even-

Jaune: *covers Blake's mouth* Shhhhhhhh, I has a plans! Look.

Jaune wrapped the chain around the tree trunk several times, gritting his teeth from the heavy weight.

Jaune: Watch this. *shouts* Ready!

From the distance, the Wild Hunt Leader tugged hard, making the chain rattle. However, it still stood wrapped around the tree. He tried again, but the same thing happened. The Wild Hunt Leader roared and tugged again for a third and final time. But the chain still stood intact. Blake looked at Jaune, who grinned at her.

Jaune: Neat, huh?

The Wild Hunt Leader rode back and found out what happened. He dismounted his horse walked towards Jaune. Jaune backed into the tree and felt his heart race. He was going to die. He knew it. But then something peculiar happend happened. The Wild Hunt Leader took the sword from his belt and placed it Jaune's hands.

Jaune: ....huh?

Wild Hunt Leader: You have bested me, mortal and for that, I congratulate you with this gift.

Jaune: B-B-B-But I cheastesd.

Wild Hunt Leader; No you didn't, you beat me. Battle is not just about strength, it's about wits too. That is what truly keeps you alive. I honour with this gift; the sword Crocea Mors.

Jaune: *smiles* Shank you! *bows clumsily*

Wild Hunt Leader: Farewell, mortals *mounts horse*and Merry Christmas.

The horse gave a booming neigh as the Wild Hunt Leader rode off to join his troops. Blake gave a warm smile and wrapped Jaune in a loving hug.

Blake: *giggles* This is the last time you're drinking, mister. I mean it, no more.

Jaune: Awww, okays. *hugs her*

Blake: *kisses Jaune* Merry Christmas, sweetheart.