#and it will keep going on without you until you can take back control

[nephynes]

Jay calls you “baby” like a threat. Heeseung fucks you like he hates you. You say you’re confused, but you’ve got both of them on their knees and still keep the door open. Someone should stop you, too bad they’re both in love with the wreckage.

➺ minors do not interact

➺ pairing: jay x afab reader x heeseung

➺ wc: 12k

➺ content tags: SMUT, toxic relationship, manipulative behavior, possessive ex, jealousy, dubcon undertones, emotional whiplash, angst, degradation, praise, emotional manipulation, hurt/comfort, power imbalance, obsessive love, heartbreak, crying during sex, coercion, unprotected sex, unresolved feelings, blurred boundaries, rough sex, aftercare (questionable), guilt, shame, self-worth issues, eroticism as control, reader with poor coping mechanisms, kind of a self righteous slut, complicated ex, trauma bonding, spiraling emotions, unhealthy attachment. NOT PROOFREAD.

➺ a/n: going against all tumblr protocols/norms and posting fics without wips or teasers, let’s consider this my comeback after taking so many BEATINGS. i wrote this with like zero emotional stability and no moral compass whatsoever and i wrote the ending with so much anxiety about my work, i feel so insecure about it but whatever. enjoyyyy and block your ex! reblog and heeseung will appear in your dream calling you angel face

➺ nsfw warnings under the cut

oral (f receiving), rough sex, degradation, threesome, double penetration, hair pulling, mean dom!heeseung, kind of switch!jay, crying during sex, jealousy sex, handjobs, manipulation kink (implied), ass play, saliva for lube (lots of it), power play, coercion themes, sub!reader, possessive behavior, humiliation, slut shaming (not corrected), multiple partners, use of pet names, hand over mouth, spanking, forced positioning, reader cries but doesn’t stop. let me know if i missed any.

Jay's room always smells like wood smoke and something mixed with his cologne and boy musk, but you've grown way too used to it over the years. You're currently stretched out across his bed with your laptop propped against your thighs and your phone in your hand, hovering a finger over a barely there lace slip in your shopping cart. "Is it too much?" you ask, turning the screen toward him.

He barely glances up from where he's messing with his journal on his desk. "It's basically dental floss. You should get it." You snort, clicking to add it to your cart. "How supportive."

Jay turns then, walking back over with a bottle of water in hand, eyes flicking toward the screen like he's expecting more lingerie picks. He drops down beside you, one knee brushing yours, lazy and comfortable and way too familiar.

You scroll through another site, mindlessly showing him crop tops and overpriced boots. He makes stupid little comments until eventually, you lean across him to grab your charger from the nightstand beside him and your tank top slips. Just slightly thin straps sliding down your shoulder, fabric dipping lower than you meant to but it's enough for him to see them. The darkened, wine colored shadows blooming along the swell of your breasts, stark against your skin.

He goes still and you don't even notice at first, you’re too busy trying to untangle the cable, but Jay reaches without asking, curling his fingers under your strap and tugging it down a little more, his eyes sharpening. "You let him mark you up like that? Heeseung?"

You frown a little, brows raising as you glance down at where his hand is still lingering so close to your breast. Then you swat him away, annoyed. "No, Jay. The fucking tooth fairy. Who do you think?"

He doesn't laugh like you assumed he would. He leans back against the headboard, jaw tense, tongue poking the inside of his cheek like he's chewing on something he won't say. You can feel his stare, heavy and unreadable.

You roll your eyes defiantly and turn the screen back to yourself. "I didn't realize I needed to send you a memo every time I get fucked."

Jay scoffs out dry and humorless. "Guess not," he says, "just didn't think you'd still go back to him." He glances at you. "What? I didn't meet up to his standards?"

That makes you snap your head toward him. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"That thing. Where you act like I owe you something."

Jay laughs low under his breath. "You don't owe me shit," he says, "but maybe you could admit you liked it."

You go quiet. Just long enough for him to know he's hit a nerve and now he looks smug, but not in a gloating way, it’s in that I know what gets under your skin and I'm going to sit there and rot it out kind of way. He shifts a little closer, gaze lingering too long on your collarbone.

"You're said we were just having fun," you say, stiff.

Jay grins. "I did."

You don't know what pisses you off more—his smile, or the fact that part of you wanted to hear something else.

You open your mouth to say something, maybe something catty but the buzzing of your phone on his bed interrupts you.

What shitty timing, you think as Heeseung's name flashes across your screen, loud and abrupt in the quiet lull after Jay's last comment. His lips curl in amusement, and he lets out this mocking laugh, like of course it's him. "Speak of the devil," he mutters.

You want to melt into the floor or throw your phone out the window, but instead you sit frozen, watching the screen pulse with Heeseung's name.

Then it goes silent—only for a text to flash up a second later.

Heeseung: you coming or not?

Jay hums, mean. "Such a romantic."

Your stomach drops as he reaches for your phone. "Jay—don't," you snap, lunging forward, but he catches your wrist easily, holding the phone up and out of reach with a bored flick of his hand. You try to grab it with your free hand, but he's quicker, suddenly twisting you around with too much ease, like he knows every way you move. In one slick move, he tosses your phone across the room and catches your arm behind your back, pinning you on the bed.

"Jay!" you gasp, twisting under him.

He leans over you, lips brushing your ear. "You were really about to go crawling back to him again?" His voice is soft but razor-sharp. "After everything he's done?"

His thigh slides between yours, pining you in place. His grip on your wrist tightens a little and you can feel his warm steady breath against your cheek. "Is that what you like?" His voice is rough now. "Being treated like a fucking afterthought."

You try to twist away from him, to say something, but he turns you over and kisses you before you can, with brute force and possession. You can feel the frustration radiating off him as he swallows the sound of your protest. Your heart rate increases and you hate how quickly your body turns against you, how familiar it feels, how much worse it makes it, the fact that it's Jay. The one person who's always known how to get under your skin.

"I just didn't think you were still that easy," he says lowly, right at your ear. "Still letting him fuck you like you mean nothing."

The words sting somewhere deep in you. You try to jerk away from him, but his hand doesn't move. "That's all he does, isn't it?" Jay adds, almost casual. "Fuck you and leave. And you run back like some good little pet."

Your heart's racing faster now and you’re trying to twist harder in his grip.

But he cuts you off by pressing in, his lips brushing your jaw in a cold and measured contact. "You let him treat you like that. But I'm the one you keep in your bed?" He asks. "Don't think that's fair."

You're too stunned to respond and he knows it. Jay releases you just as suddenly as he grabbed you, pulling away like it didn't mean anything, like he hadn't just shifted the air in the room.

He doesn't even apologize, he just watches you with that stoic look in his eyes, waiting to see what you'll do next. His eyes never leaving yours, even as he stands up from the bed.

You're panting, chest rising and falling as you sit back up on the bed, glaring at his retreating figure. He's already halfway across the room, calm like nothing happened, when he says, too offhandedly, "Your mom called me."

You frown, confused. "What?"

He looks at you. "Said you haven't been eating."

Your stomach twists and you shoot up to your feet, face hot with frustration. "You bring that up now?" you snap, breath catching in your throat. "Seriously?"

Jay just shrugs like he doesn't see why you're upset, like it's just another data point he's sliding across the table. "I'm just trying to show you what he does to you," he says simply.

Your jaw clenches. "Don't blame Heeseung for that," you bite out, angrier now. "I had issues with food way before him. You know that."

There's a pause and the air in the room feels way too heavy for how quiet it is.

He doesn't argue this time, he just flops on the bed again and says, "Come here."

You don't move at first, you shouldn't move—in fact you should get your shit and leave his apartment. But his voice is soft and smooth and too familiar, like a trigger your body's been unfortunately conditioned to obey.

You go, as if something tugs you forward, your legs moving even without your consent.

He's sitting on the edge of the bed by the time you reach him, and without asking or saying a word, he takes your wrists and pulls you into his lap, guiding your thighs to straddle him.

You settle there, shaky and annoyed, but too used to the way this goes to resist. His hands settle on your hips, holding you there. "I’m not the problem." he says, looking up at you. "I'm the one who cares, baby."

You stare back at him. At his straight face. At the boy who always knows exactly when to twist the knife.

You don't answer him right away.

Because all you can think of is how this whole fucked up thing between you and Jay didn't even start with care. Not really.

It started with rage.

Two nights after your third breakup with Heeseung.

You'd shown up to Jay's apartment with mascara bleeding under your eyes, your hoodie sleeves pulled over trembling fingers, and that look you always wore when you were ready to swear Heeseung off for good.

Jay didn't say a word when he opened the door. Just stepped aside and let you in. You stormed past him, fuming, fists clenched like you wanted to punch something.

"I'm done," you'd said. "This time I mean it. He can fuck himself—he can rot."

Jay had nodded, slow. "So he said it again."

You broke. Right there on his couch. Hot, angry tears spilled down your cheeks, your voice cracking with how bitter it all tasted. You told Jay everything. What Heeseung said, even what he didn't say and how he always knew just how to keep you hooked.

Jay sat there the whole time—legs spread, arms resting over the back of the couch, like he was soaking it in.

And then he leaned forward, pressing a hand to your thigh. "Let me help." His voice was quiet, measured even. "I could make you feel better? Or…forget?"

You didn't really know what he meant until he dropped to his knees. You definitely didn’t expect the way he grabbed you by the hips, dragged you down until your back hit the cushions of his couch. You didn't expect how gentle he was when he peeled your sweats down, your underwear off. How he kissed the insides of your thighs like they were bruises only he could soothe.

How he said—"Just let me do this. You don't have to think."

And you didn't think, in fact you couldn’t. His mouth was too good—hot, slow and sinful, tongue fucking into your soaked pussy like he was trying to reclaim every inch of you Heeseung had tainted. He moaned when you gripped his hair, when you cried out, "Jay—Jay, I'm—"

You came with your fists in his hair and your mouth slack from the shock of it, thighs shuddering where he’d placed them over his shoulders. You'd never cum like that before, not even with Heeseung.

He just looked up at you, lips wet, expressionless. "Feel better?" he'd asked.

You could barely nod.

But that was how it started and how it didn't stop.

After that night, you kept coming back. You told yourself it was casual, just a physical thing to get your mind off your ex. Jay never made a big deal about any of it, never even asked for more.

Until he found out you'd gone back to Heeseung.

He didn't yell or sulk that day. He just looked at you one morning while you were still naked in his sheets, and said, "So you let him fuck you again?"

You froze, mind scrambling for a lie to give him, but nothing came out.

He didn't press further or accuse you of anything. He stared at the ceiling and muttered, almost to himself,

"I didn't realize you liked crawling back to someone who doesn't even pretend to care about you."

And then he got out of bed.

He didn't touch you for two weeks after that. Not until you caved and showed up at his door at 1am, asking if he hated you. He just gave you that same look and pulled you into his lap like always.

Jay never needed to yell, he only needed you to come back. And somehow you always did.

The memories fade, but Jay's mattress is still beneath your knees and his hands are still coasting lazily over the backs of your thighs, because to him he's always had the right to touch you. He's moved up against the headboard now, taking you with him, dark hair messy from where you yanked it earlier. His eyes pin you in place with calm surface to them but cold calculations rippling underneath.

His thumbs press just above the curve of your hips.

"Promise me you're done with him."

It isn't a question, it's merely a line in the sand. No heat, no coaxing, just the terms of staying right here. Your mouth parts, but no sound comes out. Jay lifts one brow, waiting.

"I...can try," you whisper, hating how small it sounds.

He shakes his head once. "Not good enough." Followed by a slow inhale, an almost disappointed one. "I've cut off half the girls I see for you—stopped answering DMs, stopped returning calls. You know that."

You do and part of you was always stupidly flattered every time a name disappeared from his phone.

Jay's fingers slide under the hem of your tank, thumbs brushing skin. "So here's what you're gonna do." His voice stays level, matter of fact, with nothing pleading or cruel. "You're going to block him. Delete the number. The next time he wants someone to fuck when he's bored, he can call literally anyone else."

You swallow, feeling the air too thick in your chest.

"Say it," he demands, eyes never leaving yours. "Promise me."

You despise your pulse for fluttering and that it feels like gravity tilting the room. But all you manage is a small nod and a softer, "Okay...I promise."

Something in his jaw unclenches as his palms slide up your sides, settling possessively at your ribcage. "Good girl," he says, and it isn't praise so much as confirmation that you've aligned yourself correctly. His hands guide you down until your chest brushes his. "Keep me happy," he adds, voice almost gentle, "and I'll keep making you forget why he ever mattered."

Your eyes flutter shut, equal parts relief and dread. You want to keep him happy. God, you do. Even if it means burning every other bridge until only Jay's hands are left to catch you.

So you kiss him, seal the promise on his tongue, and try not to notice how pleased he sounds when you sigh into his mouth—like he's already sure you'll never break your word.

He laughs into your mouth condescendingly, like he's entertained by you and it knocks the rhythm right out of your kiss.

"Fuck," he murmurs when you bite down on his bottom lip, his hand tightening briefly at your waist. But it's still followed by a chuckle, smug, cruel and lazy. "You're so eager now. Look at you."

You grind down on him, hips shifting instinctively, desperate to make a point, but it only makes him laugh harder. "Aww." He tilts his head, voice thick with derision. "Look who thinks she knows how to ride now."

Your stomach flips as you feel the heat of shame curling with arousal prickling up your neck.

"So precious," he keeps going, hand dragging down the small of your back, right over the curve of your ass. "You kiss like you're starving, but your hips still falters every time."

"Shut up," you mutter, breathless, but it comes out whinier than you want.

"Oh, now you're embarrassed?" His smile sharpens. "Didn't seem so shy when you were humping me just now."

You shove at his chest, but his hands only tighten, grounding you in place, locking your body against his.

"Go ahead," he says, softly now, teeth grazing the underside of your jaw. "Get mad, but prove me wrong, baby. Show me you finally learned how to fuck me properly."

And fuck—he knows exactly what he's doing. His voice, his words, his mouth, all of it designed to crack you open. He drags the shame, defiance and desire out of you like he's mining for gold.

Your hands shake a little where they press to his chest.

But you roll your hips anyway.

Because God help you, you do want to prove him wrong. But when he doesn't move you nearly falter like he predicted, he doesn't help you or even touch you, he's leaned back against the headboard, arms spread uselessly beside your knees, his expression deadpan but his eyes locked on you with sharp, dark, and maddening patience.

You're the one shifting on top of him, dragging your skirt up around your hips with trembling fingers, your breathing shaky as you tug your panties to the side yourself. He doesn't make a sound, not even when you reach down between the two of you to palm him through his sweats, trying to coax his cock hard.

Still, he just watches. You're a private show, meant only for him. Not someone he's touching, but someone he's witnessing, every breath and movement is a performance he can't tear his eyes from.

His dick twitches in your hand, slowly filling, but he gives no reaction—not a moan, not a sigh, not even a shift of his hips. Just that steady gaze that makes your skin burn.

"You won’t help me?" you whisper, a little breathless.

He shrugs, that same frustrating smirk on his lips. "Thought you were trying to prove you could ride me good now."

You glare at him, fingers curling tighter around the base of his cock. You stroke him a little rougher than necessary, but he only raises a brow like he dares you to keep going.

"Come on," he murmurs, voice low, goading. "Figure it out. You wanted to be the one in control, didn't you?"

You press your lips together, swallowing a shaky breath as you line him up, lowering yourself slowly on the thickness of him and shaking just slightly, fingers clutching his shoulders for balance.

You gasp as the bulbous head of his cock slips in. But he just watches quietly like he’s waiting.

And somehow, to you that's worse than anything he could've even said.

You're whimpering, trying to take more of him rolling your hips just right, moving slow and deliberate like you think he wants. Like you hope he wants.

Your hands brace on his chest, your thighs burning already, and you move with every ounce of desperation you can muster—arching your back, biting your lip, trying to look as sexy and confident as you can manage.

But inside, it's sheer panic. Because you know what Jay could have, you know all the other girls he's brushed off for you. All the girls who would've killed to be in your place, bouncing perfectly in his lap, earning his soft praises and smug grins.

What if one of them would've been better? What if you're just…forgettable?

The jealousy twists sharp in your gut. And the need to matter and to mean something to Jay pushes you harder. You grind your hips down with more focus, swiveling just right, clenching around him tight and desperate.

And it finally pulls a real moan from him. It seems so raw and almost involuntary, but your heart stutters in your chest anyway.

You look down at him through your lashes, still rocking your hips, barely breathing. "Am I..." Your voice is shaky. "...doing good?"

Jay's eyes lift to meet yours—half-lidded and blown black, finally trailing his hand up to rest on your waist, not guiding you yet, just holding.

He exhales slowly, like the sight of you ruins him.

"So good," he croons. "So fucking good, baby."

And like that, you feel your whole body light up with relief, pride and maybe even power. Like maybe you’re finally enough for him.

His fingers suddenly tighten around your waist, and without warning he starts moving you himself, bouncing you harder on his cock. It’s not gentle or kind like you had hoped it would be when you’d asked him to help you. No, Jay is using his strength like it's second nature, like he's been waiting for you to tire out just so he could take over.

Your breath punches out of your lungs when your hips are dragged down hard, the thick length of his throbbing cock pushing in deeper than you'd dared to go on your own.

"Jay—!" you cry out, head snapping back, thighs trembling. But he's already covering your mouth with one large palm.

"Shhh," he breathes, lips brushing your cheek as he leans forward. "You're gonna get me a noise complaint, baby."

You can't help the way your eyes roll back, the stretch, the pressure, the depth of him inside you making your body seize with too much sensation. "Mmpfh."

His grip on your waist is absolutely bruising, dragging you down again and again, faster and harder. Your moans go muffled into his hand, your fingers clutching at his shoulders, your body turning to nothing but a puppet in his lap.

And Jay just watches you fall apart with that same infuriating calmness. "Look at you," he mutters. "Didn't even know how to ride it right five minutes ago."

His voice is smug and dirty. "But now? Now you're screaming for it." He says shifting his body a little, just his hands, one still rests at your waist while the other slips off your mouth and between your bodies, fingers seeking out your clit with perfected ease. You gasp when he finds you, the slick sound of your wetness absurd in the quiet of the room.

He presses his thumb just right and you jolt, the sudden pressure driving you dangerously closer to the edge. Your hips start to stutter, rhythm completely lost, but he picks it up for you—gripping your waist and moving you with a strength you'd forgotten he liked to flex. The next thrust is deeper, more brutal, and your head tips back with a cry, body arching into his. "J—ay! Ngh—Y—yes! There! There!"

Jay doesn't let up at all. "You're babbling now," he says, voice like velvet and venom. "What, you getting stupid for me already?"

You try to respond but your mouth won't cooperate, nothing comes out but a broken whine. Your limbs are trembling, your head swimming. He can feel it in the way you're squeezing around him, right on the brink.

Then he leans forward, mouth at your ear, voice a low rasp, "Do it again."

Your whole body slows to the stiff point. You know exactly what he means, exactly what it means and panic flares across your face, just for a second. Then his hand is on your throat, but not to choke you, just guiding you and pressing you gently back down onto the bed. Your back hits the sheets, chest heaving and Jay climbs over you, slow and deliberate, gaze fixed on yours.

You don't have to say a word. He sees the desperate, delirious relief in your eyes now that he’s on top. The smirk that spreads across his face is so mean and satisfied.

"There she is," he whispers, brushing your hair back with mock affection. "Right where you belong."

Then he moves inside you again, and your world splits open. The new angle is different and it’s letting his cock brush something achingly good inside you.

Your mouth opens, forming a silent no, but it's already happening, he's coaxing it out of you with the same rough rhythm, the same maddening meticulousness.

Your body starts to stiffen again as the pressure boils over, and just as you start to panic more. "Relax," he breathes. "Let it happen."

"I said do it again."

Your thighs quake. The wet slap of skin, the slick mess between your bodies—it's so overwhelming, so humiliating, and so perfect.

You choke on a gasp as your orgasm crashes down, blinding and involuntary, and then it happens. You feel it. The heat, the release, the wet flood you tried to hold back.

Jay's eyes light up, fucking triumphant. "Look at the mess you made," he says low, like he's proud of you and taunting you all at once. His hand glides down, wet with you, lifting his soaked fingers to your mouth. "Open."

You do. Of course you do.

He pushes two fingers past your lips, and you suck them obediently, tongue swirling slow even as your chest still heaves from the aftershocks. His eyes darken.

"You like it nasty, don't you?" he mumbles, pulling his hand away with a wet pop, dragging your jaw open with his thumb. "So fucking easy."

He shifts then, the weight of him pressing your legs wider as he strokes himself once, twice, and not gently. He's so hard and even almost angry with it, and it makes you realize he's been holding back, waiting for you to cum first.

He leans forward, teeth at your jaw, whispering, "You want to be used, right? That's what Heeseung doesn't get. You don't need love. You need to be ruined."

Then he pushes deep in again, faster and meaner.

You scream a loud sound you really try to swallow but it comes out anyway.

He doesn't hold back this time, his pace is rougher now, desperate, driven by something darker. He holds your leg up over his shoulder, trying to mark his name into the deepest part of you.

"Fuck," he grits, breath coming hot against your throat. "You're still so wet—squeezing me like you want me to finish inside."

You can't seem to form any sensible thoughts so you just grip his shoulders like a lifeline, head rolling back, another moan choking in your throat.

"Still so tight," he pants, sweat dripping down his temple, his thumb dragging across your spit-slick mouth. "Still...fuck—still letting him fuck you like you're not already mine."

You sob when he shifts your legs higher, deeper now, hitting that spot that makes you claw at the sheets.

"Jay—" it's all you can manage, too far gone to stop him but too full of him to breathe. But it’s not like he's even listening. Not really. He's watching the way you fall apart, as if he's memorizing the proof that he can still undo you this thoroughly.

His hips pulse, the rhythm of them breaking down—he's close. You feel the way his breath goes jagged, the way his arms start to tremble, how his teeth dig into the underside of your jaw before he groans right there, like he's in pain.

"I'm gonna cum," he grits, voice tight. "You want it, don't you?"

You nod frantically, already crying from the sheer overstimulation. He's everywhere—his scent, his voice, the weight of him fucking you into the mattress.

"Say it."

You try, you do really try. "Want it—want you to cum—inside, please, Jay, please—"

And that's what does it for him. He buries his cock inside you to the hilt with a broken sound, hips grinding into you as he cums hard, long and deep, filling you with thick ropes of his cum until you swear you can feel it pooling inside. His whole body jerks, muscles clenching, breath catching at the base of his throat. He stays like that for a long moment, frozen over you, forehead pressed to yours, both of you slick with sweat and sex and something even heavier.

He props himself up on his hands to look down at you when both your breathing slows, but he still doesn’t pull out. He just stares down at you, still inside, his hand sliding up your ribs until it's cradling your jaw.

"Next time you go back to him..." His thumb strokes over your bottom lip. "I'm done with you."

"And if you do...you better make sure I don’t find out."

His voice isn't even loud but it's steady and enough to make your stomach drop. He ignores the look on your face and shifts your panties back in place then gets off you.

Sometime between the kisses he peppered all over your face, the threat and the uber he'd ordered you, Jay had helped you get dressed again, his touch cool and careful, not speaking as he smoothed your hair down and tucked your phone back into your hand like a peace offering.

You're curled up on your bed, thumb hovering over the keyboard of your phone, the half-typed message to Heeseung glowing like a bruise.

you: ok fine. you win. when?

You stare at it too long, not because you're hesitant but because you know you should be. True to your word and your promise to Jay you had deleted Heeseung's number but you hadn't blocked it, and what use was that when you had it memorized.

Jay had looked you in the eye not even an hour ago and basically told you to choose between them. And maybe you'd meant to take it seriously. Maybe.

But then the soft thud against the glass pane of your window that has you blinking and turning you head—changes everything.

And there he is, changing everything. Heeseung.

Climbing through your window like it he would when you first started dating, but it's not with a smile and an embarrassed chuckle like those days, it's with a frown.

He's mad.

You can tell from the second his feet hit your floor, his jaw locked tight, his eyes raking over you with that specific brand of fury only Heeseung has, that’s quiet and cold, but mean under the surface.

His gaze drops to your legs tucked beneath you on the bed, your wrinkled tank, your flushed skin, and something shifts in his expression—tighter, darker.

"Why the fuck didn't you answer my text?" he says, voice low but sharp enough to cut.

You swallow hard. Your phone's still in your hand, the screen glowing with the message you never sent. He sees it.

"I was gonna—"

"Yeah?" He takes a step closer. "You were gonna what?"

You flinch at the heat between your legs cooling too slowly, the sticky ache of Jay still clinging to you. You didn't even shower or change, the drop in serotonin you experienced after leaving Jay's house left you in a rut.

And now Heeseung's standing here, inches away, breathing the same air as you.

He stops beside your bed, looking down at you, and you can't seem to meet his eyes.

Your shame feels loud, you're even scared he can probably smell it on you.

All your fears are validated when he grabs you by the ankle, one strong hand curling around and dragging you down the bed like a ragdoll. You gasp, your phone slipping from your grip as your back hits the mattress edge.

"Don't ignore me," he mutters, but it's distracted now. His hands are already on your thighs, pushing your skirt up. You squirm, legs instinctively snapping shut, but he doesn't allow that, never does. He spreads you open with one rough motion, ready to scold you, tease you, touch you but then he looks between your legs and his hands stop moving.

Your panties are soaked. Still a little askew. You hadn't fixed them right. Hadn't bothered.

You watch his face twist in real time—brows pinching, mouth parting slightly, like he can't seem to believe what he's seeing.

"What the fuck?" he says, low, breathless. "Did you let someone else fuck you?"

Your stomach flips violently. You try to sit up, to cover yourself, to explain, to say something but he grips your inner thigh tighter, forcing you to stay open.

His voice is flat now. "Who was it?"

He blinks at your silence.

And then, without even looking at you, just staring down at the complete mess between your legs, he lets out a laugh. It's not loud, it's not even mean at first, it's actually almost like he's stunned.

"So you're a little slut now, huh?" he whispers.

The word hits you like a punch to the stomach. Your chest caves in a little. Not because of what he said, but because he said it. Heeseung—who's never called you that. Who's always had this unspoken softness for you, even when he was being cruel. Even when he was distant or cold or high out of his mind, he'd never call you out of your name.

"You don't get to say that," you whisper, voice shaking. "We're not even—" You break off, choking on the heat rising in your throat. "We're not together anymore."

"Right," he scoffs, running a hand through his hair. "You just keep my name in your phone. Keep my number on speed dial. Let me fuck you whenever I want. But now suddenly I don't even get to ask?"

"You don't," you snap. Your hands slam into his chest, weakly at first then harder the second time. "Get out. Get the fuck out, Heeseung."

He doesn't budge.

You push him again, as hard as you can, trying to guide him toward the window he so casually crawled through as if things were normal between you two. "You can't just show up here and—and check my fucking underwear—"

That makes him grin. A slow, infuriating grin.

You hate him.

You want to cry.

"You're really throwing a tantrum right now?" he says coolly, dodging your push like it's child's play. He catches both your wrists with one hand, effortlessly holding them in place. "What happened to that little whimpering mess I had in my lap last weekend?"

"Fuck you," you spit, writhing in his grip, breath catching. "You don't get to shame me and then act like you care!"

He just shrugs. "Didn't say I cared."

Then his grip tightens just enough to make you stop squirming. "But I'm not leaving either."

He walks right past you like you're not even standing there, like the argument didn't just happen. He moves with lazy arrogance—shoulders relaxed, hands in his pockets.

You watch, stunned, as he sinks down into your bed, like he's done it a hundred times before. Which in his defense, he has.

He reaches over to your nightstand and picks up your phone. Just grabs it, thumbing through your screen, looking for God knows what, maybe the name of the person he's so sure you fucked earlier.

Your throat is too tight. Your fists clench by your sides, but he doesn't even glance at you, he's sat there, scrolling through your phone and the silence starts to ache.

Then he looks up.

Expression calmer now. "Go shower." He says with a flat and final tone.

You don't move, the twist in your stomach and the ache in your chest from the shame blooming there makes it hard to move. The worst part is that you don't even know if it's from what he said, or the fact that a part of you wants to listen.

"Now," he adds, eyes flicking back down to your phone.

Like you're just some mess he needs to clean up. You do as you're told—of course you do because Heeseung said so.

Your bathroom light is too bright, too exposing. You scrub harder than you need to, the soap scalding your skin as the shame now settles thick in your chest. You clean yourself like you're trying to erase something. Like you can.

What if Jay calls? What if Heeseung picks up?

Your mind races as you step back into the room, wrapped in a towel, your hair dripping, your skin flushed from the too-hot water. Heeseung looks up from where he's sprawled across your sheets and laughs, so casually amused.

"That supposed to impress me?" he asks, gesturing to the towel. "Like rinsing off some other dudes cum suddenly makes you clean?"

"Cute," he says, tilting his head. "You look nervous. Is it guilt or just performance?"

"Don't just stand there," he says after a beat, voice slow like syrup, sliding back into his usual apathy. "You think we're gonna cuddle or something?"

You shift uncomfortably, still frozen in place, clutching your towel.

He finally sits up, rolling his shoulders back, spreading his legs and patting the edge of the bed like he's calling a dog.

And somehow, stupidly, your body moves before your brain tells it not to.

You sit beside him, still shaking a little, heart hammering against the wet towel. You don't look at him, and you wish he couldn't see the panic painted all over your skin.

He doesn't touch you.

Just leans closer, nose grazing your ear, voice flat and low.

"I'm not gonna fuck you in the same hole you just gave another guy." He exhales a soft, sharp breath

You jolt, but his hand grips your waist tight enough to make you shut up and stay still. "You wanna make it up to me?" he says, voice so calm it cuts deeper. "Then get on all fours. Be useful for once."

"You know what I want."

The worst part is that you do know and you feel it breaking something open inside you—something ugly and raw and so, so tired.

But regardless of the tiredness, your body still moves.

Because that's what you've always done when it comes to Heeseung.

He shifts over you, his chest grazing your back, towel slipping as he cages you in. His mouth brushes your shoulder in a slow deliberate kiss, laced with the kind of false tenderness that makes your skin crawl. You shiver, more from the pressure than the heat of it.

Then he reaches around and pushes two fingers between your lips.

"Open up for me, angel face." he says, voice low and close to your ear and when you hesitate, his other hand presses down on your lower back, a clear warning. You part your lips, and he pushes the fingers deeper, right against your tongue. You nearly gag, your cheeks heating with sheer mortification. He doesn't move them until your saliva begins to pool around them.

"That's enough," he says, yanking them out and watching a strand of saliva cling between your lips and his fingers.

Without pause, he brings that spit slick hand behind you, reaching between your ass cheeks, spreading you open.

He coats his cock with the spit lazily, intentionally letting you feel every second of the slow glide of his fingers against you. You flinch when he teases the tight ring of muscle, his voice flattening into something amused.

"What?" he asks, tauntingly innocent. "You gave him your pussy. I'm just working with what's left."

You squeeze your eyes shut, thinking of how his cruelty has never sounded this casual.

"You should be grateful," he continues, positioning himself behind you. "Most guys wouldn't want you after that. But me?"

He chuckles.

"I'll still fuck you."

His hand comes up to your throat in a choke. A reminder, as his hips press in slowly, forcing your body to adjust. Your legs tremble, stretched awkwardly on your knees, hands digging into the mattress. You can barely breathe through the sting, and he hasn't even started moving yet.

"You look so pathetic right now." He says, feeling the way the walls of your asshole spasm around him as he pushes in deeper, hot and slick with your saliva and his precum. "Poor you, helpless and weak. You just take me whenever I show up, uhn?"

You squirm in pleasure at his words, nodding, repeatedly moaning words about being his slut and for him to give you his cock, completely forgetting about the promise you just made Jay—like a true whore.

"Yeah?" He taunts you, slipping one hand under you to your tit and pinching your nipple so hard you arch your back at it, arching into him as you feel the pain shoot all the way through you in pleasure. "You're only good for taking my cum, right angel face?"

A gasp rips from your throat when his nails bite down on your nipple again, the sting shooting straight through you. Waves of goosebumps ripple across your skin, relentless, and all you can do is nod harder, desperate to keep up. "Ah—Hee, oh my god!"

"Shhh, isn't your mum home? You want her to come in here and see me fucking your needy hole? See how much of a fucking slut her daughter is?" You shake your head violently but the drag of his cock against your walls and the slap of his balls against your cunt that's dripping onto the bed as you doing otherwise.

His thrusts stay unrelenting, each one a willful reminder that this is only about release, not some sort of reunion. He leans down, mouth beside your ear, the rasp of his breath harsher than the slap of skin against skin.

"This doesn’t mean we're getting back together?" His laugh is cold and cruel, hips snapping forward harder just to hear you gasp. "Keep dreaming. I'll fuck you, but I'll never get back together with you again."

You clench around him, feeling the shame, hurt and sheer pleasure all tangled, and he hisses, the smile in his voice turning near vicious.

"That's it—tighten up like you don’t believe me," he taunts, hand curling in your hair to keep your face buried in the pillow. "We're done, angel face. You're just a convenient hole I'll use when I'm bored."

He punctuates every word with another sharp thrust, voice dropping even lower. "So stop pretending, stop hoping—because when I pull out, I'm gonna walk away, and you'll still be nothing but leftovers in another guy's bed."

You’re nearly in tears at his words, feeling it pooling on your lash line. You’re starting regret breaking your promise to Jay or for not standing your ground and pushing Heeseung out of your window. "Hee—Heeseung, please."

In one swift motion he pulls out and drags you to the edge of the bed and onto your back, pushing in again, completely ignoring your pleas. "Oh fuck! Shit’s so fucking tight—You let him fuck you here?"

"No! N—Never!" your response has him fucking forward faster, pinning your knees to your shoulders as he fucks deeper and rubs his fingers all over your clenching pussy. "You gonna squirt for me like a good girl?"

The sounds your pussy is making are messy and obscene, and when he hooks two fingers inside your pussy and curls them up? You don't stand a chance in the world, you cum hard, body spasming violently as the liquid shoots out of your cunt and sprays his chest and stomach, he laughs at the sight, "Yeahhh, there we go."

It drives him on towards his own orgasm. He thrusts faster and harder, pushing your legs into your chest harder, so hard that all you can do is bask in the pain. Your ass is burning deliciously, your pussy is hot, and your clit swollen as he finally groans and spills inside you. Hot strings of his cum filling your ass, making you keen and moan at the delicious feeling.

His skin is slick against yours as he falls over you, caging you in with your sweat cooling in the dim glow of your bedside lamp. You lie tangled together on the rumpled sheets, the aftermath of your stormy reunion thrums through every nerve of your body. His breathing comes out in ragged gasps as he shifts, body weighted onto you.

His hand drifts across your waist, the pads of his fingers rough where he's still too worked up. He leans in, voice clipped on your neck, every word laced with that familiar sting, "Don't get soft on me now, angel face. I'm not your boyfriend again."

Your heart thumps at the barb because you want him to be. But instead you force the usual shrug, feigning like you don’t care and wincing at the ache between your legs.

"Yeah," you whisper, a little out of breath. "I know."

He presses closer, chest against your spine, and you feel the heat of his body like something too close to a claim for someone who just outwardly said he doesn’t want to be with you again.

"Good," he mutters through a sharp exhale. "Then you know I'm sleeping here. Don't bother moving."

You don't argue, not because you don’t see the need but because you’re far too exhausted and you know damn well he won’t listen to you anyway. You're too used to his cold commands and your quiet yielding, so you let him pull you tighter, you let his arm settle across your ribs.

No kisses or soft words or aftercare, at least Jay had tried to make you look more presentable—smoothing out your skirt and trying to tame your here it’s just the steady thump of Heeseung’s heartbeat against your back and the whir of the street outside your house.

You close your eyes, mind drifting instead to Jay as you try to ignore the not so soothing circles Heeseung’s thumb is rubbing into your stomach.

He'll kill me, you think, eyelids heavy. He said he'd be done if he finds out, he actually said to make sure he doesn’t find out. The worry threads through you, sharp and anxious, but sleep drags you under before you can chase it down.

And for a moment, you're caught between their worlds—Heeseung's cold possession holding you in the dark, and Jay's promise of finality echoing in your head as you drift off.

You wake up to the sound of someone exhaling sharply through their nose, it’s not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh. But it's enough to pull you from the tangle of sleep, your limbs feel heavy and your skin is too warm beneath the sheets. Your body aches, but not sore in the good way, this is in the used up and exhausted way.

There's a dull throb between your legs and the rawness in your throat reminds you that you cried hard last night. For a second, you don't even remember where you are, but then you shift, and the bare skin against yours moves with you.

Heeseung still asleep beside you, with his chest rising and falling steadily. One of his arms is draped across your waist. You're completely naked with sticky thighs and a dull ache between your ass cheeks. The air in your room feels wrung out and the smell of sex is clinging to the sheets.

That same breath comes again and you realize it’s not from Heeseung, so you blink your eyes open.

And Jay is standing above you.

Dressed in sweats and a white tee that clings to him like second skin. His face is stoic, eyes flicking between the shape of you under your blanket and the man lying beside you.

Your heart stops, it actually stops before crashing into a violent rhythm inside your chest.

"Wow," Jay says, voice calm in that terrifyingly low way. "Not even twenty-four hours."

You shoot upright, dragging the sheet over your chest, like it'll somehow undo everything or erase the guilt growing like mold in your throat, threatening to suffocate you. You feel exposed and nauseous, like you could throw up right there in the bed.

"Jay—" you start, voice cracking.

But he just lifts his hand, not even to silence you, just so incredibly dismissively. Like your words aren't even worth hearing.

"Your mum said you didn't eat dinner," he says after a beat, not even looking at you now. "That's why I came. She said she was headed out for the day. Thought I could check on you."

Your stomach sinks. Shame slams into you so fast you have to look away. You want to be so angry at your mother for thinking Jay is so responsible with you but you can’t because he is responsible, especially with you.

Heeseung starts to stir at the sound of voices around him. He blinks up at Jay, completely unbothered. "What the fuck—?"

You can't breathe, not to talk of move. You feel like a child about to be punished, or more like a criminal caught red handed, but worse than all that, you feel absolutely pathetic.

"Is this how you let random guys barge into your room now?" Heeseung grumbles, rubbing his eyes. He squints at Jay. "The fuck are you even doing here?"

You want to scream at him to shut up. You want to cry, as you watch Jay stare into your eyes.

Heeseung sits up slowly, scoffing under his breath. "Get the fuck out, dude."

Jay doesn't budge or even feign like he’s about to. No, instead he plants himself at the foot of the bed—arms crossed, back straight, that unnerving calm carved into every line of his face. His gaze stays glued to you, not even wavering when Heeseung pushes up onto an elbow, blanket slipping low across his hips.

"Get dressed," Jay says, voice quiet but completely resolute. He isn't loud, because remember? he doesn't ever have to be. The authority in his voice is always ice cold and precise.

You scramble at the sheets, fully dizzy with panic, shame and adrenaline. Your hands are shaking so badly you can't tell if you're gripping cotton or fucking air.

Heeseung scoffs, a bark of incredulous laughter. "Who the fuck are you to tell her what to do?"

Jay doesn't still spare him a glance. He just extends a lazy hand toward your dresser. "Clothes. Now."

Heeseung's eyes narrow, confusion dawning into something uglier. "Wait." He sits all the way up, raking his gaze over Jay's face, then yours. "Hold on. Is this—" He points between the two of you, lips curling. "You? You're the guy who fucked her?"

You fathom speaking now, even though he truth is screaming inside your skull, your throat feels cemented shut.

Heeseung lets out another humorless laugh. "Wow. Your so called best friend, huh?" He looks you over, disgust edging his tone.  "You'll really spread your legs for just anyone, won't you?"

The words punch a hole straight through your chest, it has your vision blurring, but you still slide from the bed, clutching the sheet to the front of your body—the ache between your ribs way louder than the ache between your legs.

Jay's jaw flexes, but he doesn't rise to the bait of Heeseung referring to him as just anyone. He still doesn’t look at him. Rather, he turns slightly, exposing his profile to you, creating a corridor of privacy in the room that somehow excludes Heeseung entirely.

"Drawer," he says softly. "I'm counting to ten."

The absurdity of it almost makes you laugh—or sob. You stumble to your dresser, jerk it open, and pull the first t-shirt you find over your head. Your fingers fumble with a pair of panties. You feel Heeseung's stare on your back, burning with hate and disbelief.

Jay murmurs, "Eight...nine—"

You wrench the panties up just as he reaches ten, heart jack-hammering in your throat. Then you stand there, arms wrapped around yourself, sheet puddled at your feet like evidence.

Finally Jay shifts his gaze to Heeseung—slow and intentional with his eyes flat and glacier cold. "Out," he says. One syllable and absolutely nothing more.

Heeseung brims with tension, rising from the bed. "Fucking make me."

The air in your room turns heavy, electric, charged with something darker than anger. You tug the oversized shirt lower on your thighs, cheeks burning, pulse rabbiting beneath your skin. You should tell one of them to leave, you should scream, you should do something. Instead you stand there uselessly with a pounding heart and a twisted gut while the two men who know your body like a map stare each other down over the wreckage of your sheets.

Jay breaks the silence first, voice low. "You promised."

Heeseung lets out a dry laugh, eyes flicking to you, then back. "And? She promised me once too. Didn't stop her moaning my name last night while I fucked her ass."

Your breath catches so hard you think you might faint. You taste shame, guilt and it’s something sour that turns strangely sweet when both their gazes snap to you at the same time, like you're the prize in a game neither of them intends to lose.

"You proud of that?" Jay asks, still calm, but you hear the steel under the words.

Heeseung's smirk widens. "Looks like she is," he says, nodding at the way your knees knock together, the way your fingers twist in the hem of the shirt that ridiculously smells like Jay's detergent and Heeseung's sweat. "Little thing's shaking."

Your stomach flips with equal parts dread and a perverse thrill. Yesterday's memories flash hard behind your eyes, both of them inside your head, under your skin. You know you'll never be able to choose. Because part of you likes this, you like their attention crashing over you from both sides, two tidal waves colliding with you caught in the undertow.

Jay steps closer, toying with your phone in his palm. "Show him you can fucking follow instructions." he says quietly, gaze never leaving Heeseung.

The command sinks into your bones, all too familiar and unraveling. Your lips part but you don't even know what you're about to say or do. But then Heeseung's hand snakes out, catching your wrist and pulling you toward him instead.

"She listens to me just fine," Heeseung declares, fingers sliding to your chin, forcing your head back so you're looking up at him. "Don't you, angel face?"

You swallow, throat tight. A tiny sound, half-whimper, half-yes escapes your lips.

Jay's eyes are blazing when Heeseung shifts you to have your back against his chest. His hand traces a slow, infuriatingly confident line down your stomach, and you flinch at the intimacy of it. You don't even have time to move before Heeseung's mouth is right beside your ear, dragging a lazy kiss against your neck, possessive and smug.

Jay doesn't say anything, but his eyes darken, you see it and so does Heeseung.

"Seriously?" Jay finally mutters, voice low, somewhere between daze and something shockingly hungrier. "You're letting him touch you like that, right in front of me?"

Heeseung just laughs, warm breath skating over your shoulder as his hand slips lower, palming your pussy like he has every right to. "You can't look away though, can you?" he says, eyes fixed on Jay now, goading. "What's the matter? Didn't get enough yesterday?"

Jay's fists curl at his sides but he doesn't move, the tension radiating off of him is palpable. His stare drops to where Heeseung's hand is inside your panties you put on, groping like he's testing ownership.

"You're disgusting," Jay snaps, but his voice is thinner now, less conviction. His gaze is low and lingering.

Heeseung hums. "And you're hard."

That hits Jay like a gunshot and he freezes, nostrils flaring because he is hard.

Heeseung turns his attention back to you, smirking a little. His fingers slip between the folds of your pussy, finding your clit and you whimper, head dropping forward into your hands, embarrassed, but not enough to tell him stop, or enough to make them leave.

"Don't pretend this isn't what she wants," Heeseung says, dragging his lips along your neck. "She's been taking both of us, hasn't she? Plus I don’t really care about her, she just lets me do things other girls don’t."

Jay doesn't answer, but he does step closer. Close enough to see everything and close enough that your skin burns from the weight of both their attention.

"You gonna join me?" Heeseung asks him, too cocky now. "Or you gonna watch with your dick in your hand like a fucking cuck?"

Jay looks at you and the way his eyes soften is the only warning you get before he grabs your chin and kisses you, rough and unrelenting. Now you know neither of them are leaving at least not until one of them wins or they break you.

Heeseung's grip on your waist tightens, but his gaze is all on Jay now, trying to stand behind you like he's bored, like he's not fully hard from just watching Jay kiss you. He lets out a slow exhale, smirking a little as he confesses something that seems to not matter to him anymore.

"You know," he starts lazily, still watching as your tongue collides with Jay’s, "when I was with her...back then? You used to piss me off. Thought you were some kind of threat."

Jay pulls his mouth from yours. "Shut the fuck up."

"But looking at you now..." Heeseung tilts his head, continuing and dragging his eyes lower in a way that makes the air shift. "I don't think I wanna fight you anymore."

There's a beat of silence, something electric buzzing underneath it. You blink, unsure if you heard him right.

"I kinda wanna fuck you instead," he adds plainly.

Jay's lips part slightly, brows drawn in confusion that's quickly swallowed anger or curiosity, you can't truly tell.

Heeseung laughs at Jay’s reaction and then leans in closer to you, resting his chin lazily on your shoulder, eyes still on Jay. His tone drops. "Bet you taste good too," he says, like it's nothing, like he's not teasing the both of you. "Wouldn't mind finding out."

You tense between them, pulse thudding, because you see how this is power, pride...and a pull between them that neither of them wants to admit but both of them feel.

"Fuck off," Jay mutters, but his voice is hoarse now. "That’s not fucking happening."

Heeseung grins, victorious, and kisses your neck again, but slower this time cause he knows Jay is watching.

Heeseung's palm slides possessively over your stomach again while his mouth works a heated trail up your throat—never taking his eyes off Jay. Every flick of Heeseung's tongue feels like a dare thrown directly at the other man, and Jay's control is visibly eroding, his jaw flexed, chest rising faster, fists clenching as though he's deciding whether to shove Heeseung away or drag him closer.

"Getting worked up just watching?" Heeseung murmurs, lips brushing your earlobe, but the words are for Jay. He drags his hand lower across your thigh, slow enough to make you squirm. "Thought you were the one giving orders."

Jay's reply is a dark and unamused laugh. "Keep talking."

Heeseung does—whispers something filthy against your skin, hips nudging his hard clothed cock against your ass until you gasp and he continues to goad Jay.

"Tell me," Heeseung says, voice low as he noses along your jaw. "Is he a good kisser?" His question hums with challenge, and his fingers flex on your hip, reminding you how completely you're pinned between them.

Your pulse thunders. Shame and anticipation collide in your chest, and something reckless slips past your lips, something soft and breathy and meant only for him.

"Why don't you...find out?"

For a beat neither man moves. Jay's eyes flash in shock and something close to resentment, a flare of something hungry. Heeseung's grin spreads, slow and wicked. He leans past you, crowding closer until his breath mingles with Jay's.

The charged silence hangs, but then Jay closes the distance, grabbing the back of Heeseung's neck like he didn’t tell him a moment ago that it would never happen. Their mouths crash together, raw and forceful. You're caught between them, heat bouncing off their bodies, every muffled groan vibrating through your spine.

It's messy and competitive—Jay bites Heeseung's lip and Heeseung answers with a low growl, hand sliding boldly down Jay's side before circling back to squeeze your thigh. You feel the tremor that rolls through Jay at the touch, and pride twists with awe in your lower belly.

Heeseung's grip on your thigh loosens just long enough for him to shove you forward, away from the collision of their mouths. You stumble onto your knees beside the bed, watching as he turns fully to Jay, eyes blazing with hungry curiosity.

Heeseung presses his palm to Jay's chest, sliding it down over his ribs, fingertips tracing the line of his abs. Jay's breath draws sharp, caught off guard.

"Ever been with a guy before?" Heeseung's voice is soft, teasing, every word loaded.

Jay blinks at him. "No," he manages, tone rough.

Heeseung just laughs, soft and smug, thumb brushing over Jay's exposed skin. "That's alright. I'm honored to be your first..." He glances at you, eyes gleaming. "Just like I was hers."

Jay's jaw tics, but he doesn't move away. Heeseung steps in closer, chests brushing, heat rising in the thin space between them. His hand moves higher, curling around the back of Jay's neck, pulling him in again. And this time the kiss is filthier, open-mouthed with teeth grazing and tongues sliding without hesitation.

You're breathless watching them. Jay's hand grips Heeseung's side, uncertain but firm causing the other to groan into his mouth, hands slipping lower to snake between both their bodies to palm Jay’s hardened cock over his sweats. Jay jerks, gasping into the kiss, hips twitching forward in shock.

"Fuck," Jay hisses, pulling back just enough to suck in air.

"Sensitive already?" Heeseung grins, licking his lips. "That's cute."

You press your thighs together, pulse pounding at the sight of them, Jay's cheeks are flushed, Heeseung's calmness is near predatory, and the sheer tension vibrating between the three of you. Your body still aches from the night before, but all you can think about is them.

Heeseung bites his lip, fingers curling tighter around Jay's waistband, tugging it down enough to expose the hardness beneath.

Jay shudders. Heeseung raises an eyebrow. "You hard for me already?" he murmurs. "Or is it for her?"

Jay doesn't answer and it causes Heeseung to grin wider. "Guess it doesn't matter."

And then he spits into his hand, slow and deliberate, before wrapping it around Jay’s dick without breaking eye contact with him.

You swear you feel your clit forming a heartbeat.

Jay takes a sharp inhale he tries desperately to stifle. This is new to him, but his chest tightens either way and his pulse hammers in his throat when Heeseung wraps his spit covered hand around his dick. Everything in Jay screams that he shouldn't want this, that Heeseung is the enemy, but beneath that war, a dark current of arousal is coiling.

Heeseung's fingers pump him slow and sure, eyes locked on his as if he willing him to break. Jay's lips part, and for a heartbeat, he almost moans but he clamps his jaw shut instead, head tilting back so only the curve of his throat shows, as heat floods his face.

His hands twitch at his sides, yearning to grip something, anything. He lifts one to knot in Heeseung's hair, not in anger, but instinct like a desperate plea for more and it makes Heeseung's grin flicker with victory.

Jay's vision darkens at the edges as the pleasure builds, electric and terrifyingly sweet. He fights for control, but his body betrays him when a low groan slips free, startling even him, one which has you trailing your hand between your legs to find some sort of relief.

Heeseung doesn't even glance your way but his voice slices through the thick air like a whip, "Touch yourself and neither of us lay a hand on you."

Your fingers freeze, inches from your cunt, the sight before you too overwhelming, their bodies are close, with tension humming like live wire, and you’re drowning in it, arousal clouding everything else.

A pit of embarrassment forms in your chest. You slowly lower your hand back to the ground with your heart racing.

Jay looks you too now with a dark gaze, you notice his chest rising and falling hard like he's on the edge of saying something—but doesn't.

Heeseung's pace stroking Jay's cock quickens, it turns somewhat relentless, he has one hand still steady at Jay's hip while the other pumps him with confidence. Jay's eyes flutter shut as the pressure builds, you know that look.

"You like that, don't you?" Heeseung says, voice laced with amusement.

Jay's fingers cling to Heeseung's shoulders, body trembling under the rising tension of his orgasm. You watch, breath caught as Heeseung leans in close, lips brushing Jay's ear.

"Look at you—so proud you could handle her, and yet here you are, helpless for me." His thumb presses in right over the phallic tip of him, dragging a trembling, lewd pulse through Jay's cock. It makes Jay's hand jerk, scrabbling at Heeseung's wrist, helpless.

Heeseung smiles knowingly against Jay's skin—slow, knowing. "No hiding," he teases, brushing fingertips over Jay's lower lip until Jay parts them, letting Heeseung trace the wet line. "You don't sound like the tough guy you pretend to be."

You watch Jay try to swallow, try to form a retort, but his voice is gone, it's replaced by a soft, whimpering moan that vibrates through his whole body.

"Go on," Heeseung says. "Let me see what you look like when you cum.”

Jay's head falls back, neck bare, throat exposed. And then it happens, a trembling exhalation, guttural and urgent, as Jay's body shudders and clenches. You see the flush spread across his cheeks, you hear the wet heat of Jay's cum slicking across Heeseung's palm.

Heeseung strokes him through it with a steady hand, letting Jay's orgasm roll through him until the final shudder. Then he slowly withdraws his hand, setting Jay's spent cock free to twitch in the cool air. He watches Jay's chest heave, eyes still closed, mouth parted.

For a heartbeat, there's only the sound of Jay's ragged breathing, then Heeseung's gaze flicks downward, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips when he notices Jay still hard, flushed and ready like he hadn't just come undone seconds ago.

"Well, shit," he drawls, low and smug. "Didn't think you had stamina like that."

Jay doesn't respond at first, he just eyes Heeseung up and down, standing firm, his chest heaving with barely restrained unease. But there's a flicker in his eyes of something darker, especially when Heeseung keeps looking at him like that, like he's impressed and still in control all at once.

Heeseung's grins because he doesn't miss the look Jay gives him. He leans in a little, "I wanna know, Jay. You ever fucked her ass?"

That hits. Jay's head snaps toward you, and there's a twitch in his lip, his whole body tensing like he's about to swing, but it's not from shame or shock but something possessive and territorial, and it makes his tone is clipped and bitter when he replies, "No. I haven't."

Heeseung hums in jest, clearly savoring it, but then Jay steps in, crowding his space more with a tight jaw. "You think that makes you better than me?" he mutters, eyes narrowing. "You think that means you get to take what's mine?"

Heeseung raises a brow, not backing down. "You really think she's yours right now?" he says, voice velvet-smooth. "She let me in first. And look at you..." He chuckles as his gaze drops again. "Still acting like you've got any say."

But instead of escalating, Heeseung steps back a bit. A surprising glint of generosity or maybe twisted mischief shines in his eyes. He turns to you, then grabs your wrist, dragging you of the ground effortlessly toward him.

"Come here, angel face," he says, already sitting back on the sheets.

You shake as he guides you to straddle him, already pushing your panties down your thighs.

Jay's confusion flashes at the sight, followed quickly by understanding. His eyes drag across your body as you're pulled onto his lap. The way you're still pliant, already slick, flushed from everything that just happened. You settle over him like instinct, thighs shaking.

Heeseung lays against the bed with his hands spread on your ass, satisfied. "Go on," he tells Jay, like he's giving him a gift. "Or you don't wanna fuck her ass?"

Jay doesn't speak, he just gets on the bed behind you and grabs your hips roughly, eyes never leaving Heeseung's. The tension between them is tangible now, some primal challenge in the air and you're caught right in the center of it—torn and dizzy with it, as Jay pushes you down onto him, every inch of him searing and full of purpose. And all the while, Heeseung just watches cause he likes what he sees.

The sheets are cool under your knees as Jay's hands splay around your ass, guiding you to angle back against him. Every breath from you seems too loud in the sudden hush of your room, it's just the faint creak of the mattress and the muted hum of morning outside your window. Jay's hands are warm against your spine, his skin damp where he's still riding the edge of anger and desire.

Heeseung lounges at the head of the bed and under you, propped against the pillows, dark eyes tracking every twitch in your body and every flicker of tension across Jay's jaw. You're hyperaware of his presence—how his gaze sears like a brand, claiming you even as Jay'sce fingers spread across your waist in their own possessive pattern.

You're pinned between them—straddling Heeseung's lap as Jay lines his spit and cum covered dick up with your clenching hole. Heeseung's hands grip your hips too, trying to keep you in play for Jay, his thumbs digging into the flesh of your ass, forcing you back hard on Jay's cock behind you. You moan out something incoherent, "Oh—! W—Wait! Nggh."

Heeseung's voice is a rasp at your ear with something wicked and out of breath, "Look at you—between two men like some cheap toy." He adjusts himself under you, pulling out his cock from his boxers and gently lining it up with your pussy. "Oh my god! Heeseung wait!"

You gasp, heat roaring through your core as Jay picks up a steady pace of fucking his cock into you and Heeseung pushes his up into your sopping cunt, each stroke makes you push back Jay, the feeling of both of them in your holes has you digging your nails digging into Heeseung's shoulders.

Heeseung chuckles darkly. "You like that, don't you? Two big dicks fucking you?" His grin is jagged, but you can't even look at it for too long because the fullness is so intense you have to close your eyes. "So good! So good!"

Jay's hand finds yours on Heeseung's shoulder, gripping tight, his is palm hot on yours. He doesn't say anything, but you feel the strain in his muscles as he drives his cock into you harder and faster.

Heeseung leans upward, kissing you quickly before shoving his fingers into your mouth. "Ngh! Oh! Goddamit! I can feel your dick through her." He takes his fingers from your mouth and uses the same ones to rub your clit in harsh circles.

"Too much! Heeseung! Jay!"

"Sloppy little thing," he snarls. "But Jay'll fix that, huh?" He fucks up into you with renewed determination, the pressure of your orgasm building inside you in a jagged, desperate wave.

Tears sting your eyes as Jay's grunts fill the room. "Hole's so tight—My God."

"She ever squirt for you before?" Heeseung asks Jay, pace never failing, "Yeah," Jay groans, his eyes screwing shut and his head lolling back.

Heeseung laughs. "Yeah? Think you can go faster?"

You hear Jay grumble in agreement as his pace picks up along with Heeseung's and they both brush something delicious inside your two holes. The stretch is impossibly overwhelming, it has you drooling right onto Heeseung's chest.

You're right at the edge of losing control and you know they are too, every nerve ending in your body erupts into a blazing white-hot spark. You can feel the relentless fullness of Heeseung thrusting into your pussy and the deep burn of Jay pushing into your asshole like two currents of pressure that clash inside you, building into one ridiculously impossible wave.

"I'm gonna cum! Hee!—Jay! Gonna cum! Gonna cum!"

In that instant, your vision blurs at the edges, your breath catches in jagged gasps, and your holes clench down around them both. Your hands slam into the headboard as a rush of heat floods outward from your cunt, simultaneously constricting and exploding, like every drop of blood in your veins has turned to molten fire. "Yes yes yes! Use me! Use me!"

Your whole body convulses with Jay's name on your lips, need shooting through every nerve until Heeseung's words pull you back from the edge. "Fuck, that's right—Ugh."

A strangled moan tears from your throat, your back arches, and your toes curl as the wave crests. You're suspended between fierce ache and a blissful orgasm, every inch of you humming with overload.

Time fractures and each of your heartbeats thump in your ears as your orgasm rolls through you again and again with thick surges of bliss that crackle with humiliation and joy all at once. Your vision swims with dizziness, you're so fucking elated and completely undone.

Behind you, Jay grunts grow louder, his own ripping orgasm from him in a raw exhale as he cums into your asshole, continuing to pump himself into you. His hips jerk with every pulse, driving you higher even as you cum. "Oh fuck me."

Beneath you, Heeseung's breath snarls in your neck, with a husky voice. "Cumming!"

You feel his cum spill inside your pussy, so warm and grounding, as his hands tighten on your hips and hold you in place.

You're suspended between them with Jay's and Heeseung's pleasure and yours intertwining in a moment of pure, overwhelming abandon. Your body trembles so hard you think you might shatter, tears slipping free as the last tremor fades.

You feel trapped in their storm of shame, lust, and fear. It has you dizzier and you start to drift, so close to passing out. Your limbs feel heavy and detached, as if you're watching someone else slumped between them. Their bodies surround you so steadily while the world outside your bedroom window carries on oblivious.

Heeseung's breath is soft against your neck, his hand still resting on your hip. Jay's steady weight behind you reminds you of every promise made and every threat whispered. But no one speaks and time thins.

All you can feel is the slow pulse of your heart, the faint sting of tears on your cheeks, and the relentless press of desire still humming through your veins.

Then, almost too quietly to hear, Heeseung shifts, voice against your skin but eyes on Jay.

"I wanna fuck you next."

➺ taglist: @immelissaaa @fancypeacepersona @inawonderfulworld @usuallyunlikelyfox @starry-eyed-bimbo @strayy-kidz @mheretoreadff @bloomiize @xoenhalover @mamuljji @rawwwre @gabrielinhaa @cherrieikeu @niyzu @ieatwon @rialikesbts @lunacrtk @dulcetnostalgia @bussolares @lovel1z @dearestdreamies @kristynaaah @rosepetals09 @c1eod1n3 @kiikiisblog @plumdove @pqrkjyx @tojiworshipper @loverseon

[rainrot4me]

Raaahhhhh sub Jeff my beloved. He definitely would not go down without a fight but I think with enough time and persistence you could have him begging…

AHHHHHHHHH AH AH AH. I am clawing my skin off I am drooling everywhere oh my god oh my god give him to me NOW.

๑ Warning: Implied vaginal/anal, choking, forced submission

── .✦

Jeff would absolutely refuse at first. He’s a rabid animal, all bark and bite, fighting for top dog status. But the moment you get your hands on him the right way, talk to him the right way, he crumbles—there’s a desperation in him that’s basically starving for someone to dominate and love him at the same time.

You can either be controlling or comforting in your approach. Force him down, yell in his face, outmatch him—or coax him, rub your hands all over his body, tell him how amazing he’s doing. Either way, if your conviction can outlast his ego, you’ve got him.

๑ Sex:

He hates admitting it, but the second you put a hand around his throat, the fight drains right out of him. It’s like grabbing a cat by their scruff—his eyes unfocus, his breathing is shallow—it’s like a temporary reset switch that silences all the chatter.

“If you think you can make me beg, you’re outta your mi—hhnd— ohhh, fuck—”

He’ll still try to act tough while you ride him, spitting curses, hips bucking to regain control, but he’s melting inside. “Fuck off— you think I’m gonna— shit—” He just can’t keep up, and it’s sending him spiraling.

“Oh, fuck— don’t stop— fuck, please—”

Once you praise him? He’s goneee. “Good boy.” “You’re doing so well.” “You’re making me feel so good.” That’s all it takes. You’ll see his whole body twitch and a wrecked gasp break through. His mouth moves to make fun of you, but it’s interrupted in the way his body moves to please you again and again.

“You… you gonna let me come? Say it. Say I can, or I’m gonna lose my fuckin’ mind.”

Grabs the sheets, claws at your waist, tries to rut up into you until you pin him back down. He fights like all get out, like trying to put a new collar on a street-mutt. He’s stronger than you, but there’s something about letting you hold him down that has neurons firing in his brain and telling him to just take it.

“I swear to God, if you tell anybody I let you do this, I’ll— fuck— keep going, keep going—”

๑ Romantics:

He’d lie with you after, face buried in your chest, letting out those little frustrated whines because you ruined him, and he secretly loves it. Jeff wouldn’t let something like that happen willy-nilly. If you’re able to knock him into a sub-space, that means subconsciously he’s attaching himself to you—mentally and physically.

If you trace your fingers down his back, he arches into your touch like a cat. He’ll preach that he doesn’t like to be coddled, but scratch the back of his head or rub his shoulders and you’ll see just how well that statement holds up.

“Don’t think I’m your fuckin’ pet,” he growls, but the second you twirl his hair around your finger, he’s practically purring.

Will never in his entire life admit it to anyone. He has to uphold this facade of being a douchebag with a big dick, no way in hell is he letting others know you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. But when you give him a look or say his name in a stern voice, it’s clear how he gets skittish and gruffly apologetic.

“D-don’t look at me like that— like I’m— yours or somethin’.”

๑ And a little blurb for good measure:

Jeff had been running his mouth all day. Cocky, violent, tossing you around just to show he could, acting like he was untouchable. So you decided to teach him a lesson.

You had him pinned, wrists tied to the headboard with his old leather belt, slowly sinking down on his cock with a smug smile while he cursed under his breath. Jeff still had the gall to grin at you, eyes wild.

“Shit— you can’t just—”

You cut him off with a hand against his throat, pinning him back against the pillows. “Shut up, Jeff.”

The look in his eyes was feral—a shiver ran through him. He wanted to fight you for control so bad, but couldn’t. You started to move, slow, torturously slow, rolling your hips in an agonizing rhythm. Jeff’s nails dug into his palms, knuckles white.

“Faster—fuck, come on—”

You tightened around him, grinding down, but never sped up. His whole body jolted. You could see him trembling, sweat dripping down his temple, jaw clenched so hard it might break.

“Beg.”

He shook his head, stubborn even now. “No— I’m not— gonna—”

You squeezed around him again, deliberately slow, letting him feel every inch of you, dragging him out of you to the head of his cock before slowly sinking back down again. His voice broke, a strangled moan slipping out.

“Say it, Jeff. Beg me to go faster.”

He writhed under you, trying to buck up, but you pinned him down easily. Your hand stayed on his throat, reminding him exactly where he belonged. His eyes glistened, frustrated and desperate, cheeks pink from shame.

“Fuck— baby— please, please just— go faster, please, I can’t—”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “That didn’t sound very convincing.”

He whined, actually whined, his voice cracking as he completely gave in.

“Please—I’m begging you—fuck—ride me harder, baby, please, I can’t fucking take it, please—”

You rewarded him, picking up the pace, slamming your hips down until the bed rattled. Jeff’s head fell back, eyes rolling up, mouth open in a silent scream. He tried to grab your hips, but you pushed him down again, using him how you wanted.

“Good boy,” you whispered, and his entire body twitched.

He came hard, nearly blacking out from the intensity, babbling incoherently under you, praising you through choked breaths:

“S-so good, you’re so fucking good—don’t stop, please don’t stop—”

You didn’t stop. You kept riding him, milking every last drop, until he was crying and shaking, overstimulated and ruined, hands still fisted and pulling against his belt.

“You’re— fuck— you’re evil.”

꩜ .ᐟ

[rafesyangel]

Rafe gets rid of reader’s birth control pills!

You noticed it on a Wednesday.

You weren’t even looking for it at first—just moving through your morning routine, brushing your teeth, half-asleep, until your eyes flicked up to the cabinet. Habit pulled your hand to the same spot every time. Back left corner. Behind the old shampoo you never finished. That’s where you always kept your birth control.

But the box wasn’t there.

You paused. Opened the cabinet wider. Shifted bottles, moved cotton swabs, even crouched to check the drawer below. Nothing.

A strange chill crept up your spine, even though the bathroom was warm. You didn’t want to believe it. Not yet.

But you already knew.

The air felt heavier when you stepped into the kitchen. Rafe stood at the stove, back turned, coffee brewing, breakfast sizzling like it was just another day.

You tried to keep your voice light. “Hey… did you move my pills?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just flipped the eggs in the pan like you hadn’t spoken. Then, without turning, he said it:

“No.”

You blinked. “What do you mean, no?”

He finally turned, slow and deliberate, setting the spatula down. His eyes met yours—calm, unreadable, and so goddamn steady it made your heart race.

“I mean,” he said, “I didn’t move them. I threw them away.”

Your stomach dropped. “You what?”

“I said I threw them out,” he repeated, like it was nothing. Like he’d tossed an expired can of soup. “You don’t need them anymore.”

You stared at him, frozen. “Rafe, that’s not your choice to make—”

He moved toward you, and you instinctively stepped back, but he didn’t let you get far. One hand reached out, slid around your waist, anchoring you to him like you were something he owned—something he wasn’t letting go of.

“You really think I’m gonna sit around while you keep putting this between us?” he said lowly. “I’ve been patient. I let you play house, act like this was temporary.”

His hand came up, brushing your cheek with a touch that didn’t match the weight of his words.

“I’m not temporary, sweetheart. You’re mine. I’m building a life here—for us. And I won’t let a little pill decide when that starts.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but he silenced you with a soft, near-whisper:

“I want you barefoot in my kitchen. I want our kid in your arms. I want to come home to that. Not to some calendar with Xs on it.”

You looked away, unsure whether it was anger or heat rising in your chest. Maybe both.

He leaned in, lips brushing your temple. “You keep trying to act like you’re in control,” he murmured. “But deep down, you don’t want control. You want to be taken care of.”

Your fingers curled into his shirt without meaning to. His voice was warm. Lulling.

“And I’m gonna take care of you, baby. Whether you like it or not.”

[revelboo]

I found you like 2 days ago and my god. Im kicking my feet and blushing. Im on like chapter 80 of the starscream soundwave megatron triple whammy. Love how you portray all the characters!

Thank you! I’m glad you like my nonsense!

Everything Is Alright Pt 164

Starscream x Reader, Megatron x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• Taking the wrapped energon goodie from Megatron as the sparkling sucks and mouths hungrily, you relax into his frame at your back, watching him offer your daughter a servo and smiling when she grabs on. And Star’s on his knees in front of you, wings flared and obviously wanting to drag you both away from Megatron to make you feel awful. Because this is his daughter and he’s being kept at bay by his own reluctance to be near Megatron. Head lifting to find Soundwave, he’s watching over all of you, but keeping separate. Like he’s not sure of his welcome even though you’re sparked with his sparkling right now. Driving home how dysfunctional your little family is. And then there’s Shockwave just standing there somehow managing to be menacing without doing anything. Just staring and being creepy.

• Wings trembling slightly watching Megatron stare at his daughter’s tiny, fragile servos gripping the warlord’s much bigger one, Starscream can’t stand Megatron touching his daughter or you. Old instincts beaten into him screaming that he’s a threat to you, to his sparkling. Hates that soft smile on the other mech’s lips like he’s happy, because Megatron doesn’t deserve happiness. Doesn’t deserve to touch his sparkling and smile like that. But he can’t say anything as he watches you press a kiss against his sparkling’s head to make her chirp, because you’re happy and he doesn’t want to ruin that. “Do you need more energon?” He asks and you shoot him a lost look, obviously not sure.

• Relaxing now that the sparkling is calm and happy, Soundwave’s servos flex watching you cradle the Seeker’s sparkling and imagining you with two. His and Starscream’s younglings curled against you and realizing his sparkling will have a sibling. Will never be alone. Never be abandoned. Hopes the little one won’t have his quirk, because he knows how hard it is to learn to control, how overwhelming. But his sparkling will have someone to teach them. Who won’t become frustrated or unsettled by their abilities. Won’t decide they’re broken and not worth the bother of loving or helping because they’re different.

• Rumbling a low protest when Starscream slides you and his daughter closer, Megatron feels the loss when those tiny servos let go of him. The sparkling warbling uncertainly until Starscream pulls you and her into his lap, wrapping his arms around you both. Letting the youngling feel his EM field and get familiar with it. And you lay your head against the Seeker, relaxed and happier than he’s ever seen you. Reminding him that you’re already sparked again. Part of him wanting to ask if you’d think about giving him his own sparkling, but his pride won’t let him admit he wants it. Knows you’ll just deny him after how he’s treated you. Unable to let his guard down after all the times your Seeker’s attempted to murder him. Used to seeing enemies and betrayal everywhere. BecauseAnd there are very few he can trust.

• Fingers stained with energon, you smile up at Star when he grips your wrist and brings your hand to his mouth, licking your fingers clean as his internal systems rumble steadily, sounding like he’s purring. And your daughter yawns, mouth smudged with energon as you cradle her to you. Aware that she’ll never pass for human. Never be human, but that it doesn’t matter even if you have no idea how to raise a human child, much less an alien one. “Are we ready for this?” You ask and Star bumps you with his helm, venting softly. ‘We can handle one tiny Seeker,’ he says and you offer him a weak smile, not nearly as confident as he seems. Though knowing him, he could just be pretending to know what he’s doing because the other two are here watching him and he can’t show weakness in front of them.

Previous

Next

[nadvs]

escapism .* part two

pairing rafe cameron x socialite! female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you live a turbulent life in the public eye as an unruly heiress from a controlling family. you thought you had your future all planned out, until you learn that your trust fund hinges on marrying a stranger.

» masterlist

“This won't work,” Rafe says as he shuts his father’s office door. He’d already told Ward that while you won’t make this easy, he’s determined to get through with it.

But now, after he mulled it over the entire drive from your home to Cameron Development’s headquarters following that tense meeting, he’s stewing in how angry you make him, how effortlessly you push him into his old ways.

This won’t be the easy win he hoped for. He’d thought he’d do anything to prove his loyalty. Turns out that marrying you is the exception.

“What?” Ward says.

“She won’t cooperate,” Rafe continues, sinking in the seat across the desk. “Shouldn’t we think about how bad it’ll make us look when this doesn't work out?”

Ward leans in.

“I know this is a big request,” he tells him, “but a lot is hinging on this.”

“How can we be sure having her associated with our family won’t bite us in the ass?” Rafe carries on.

“Listen…” Ward squints, takes a beat. “I didn’t want to pull you into it. I asked Kal to keep it from you, too. But there’s more to this than you think.”

Rafe straightens in his seat.

“Kal didn’t get where he is without making some deals. A few years back, I… needed help with an audit. He scrubbed stuff for us. Off the books. Then, last week, he came to me and asked about you. He said he scratched our back and it’s about time we scratch his.”

Rafe stills. He’s not taken aback by his father’s scant ethics; he’d already taught him that the most successful men don’t follow the rules. He’s in shock because his own dad kept this from him.

It stings like betrayal.

“That asshole threatened us?” Rafe says, his voice going up a few decibels.

“Indirectly,” he sighs. “See this through, and our hands will be clean. And it will make us look good. He’s a powerful man to be friends with. This will open doors for us. I believe in you, son. You want the best for the company, don’t you?”

It hurts that he even needs to ask.

His eyes find the back of one of the frames sitting on Ward’s desk. He knows which photo it holds, a snapshot of his little sisters hugging, a reminder of how emotionally sidelined he’s always been. Of how easily his dad overlooked him. Of how affection always orbited elsewhere.

“Yeah. Of course,” Rafe finally answers. “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?”

He looks up to find disappointed eyes.

“Because of how you just reacted,” his dad says.

Shame digs its claws into Rafe’s chest. The man he looks up to didn’t believe he was capable of hearing the truth. He thought his own son wasn’t safe to confide in.

He nods once, short and sharp. He’s not backing out. He’s been telling his dad for years that he can be taken seriously, that he can be trusted, that he can reign in his temper. Now’s the time to prove it.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

Minutes later, Rafe calls Kal. He keeps his word, telling him all about how the meeting with you and the publicist went, that he saw you take a call from a family lawyer, that you asked him to reconsider.

Before they end the call, Rafe asks if he can come by to speak to you later today.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

You’re alone in every sense. Fragile, unguarded, and entirely vulnerable.

You can’t even call someone without your father finding out. This morning, you’d asked the lawyer on the phone not to mention your conversation to anyone, but your dad just reamed you out over it.

The amount of power Kal has over people is terrifying. Nothing is kept from him.

There’s a knock at your door.

“Not now,” you shout across your bedroom.

“You have a visitor,” the voice says.

You don’t have it in you to get up. On your worst days, your illness drains you of your energy, and getting screamed at by your dad on top of it just adds to the weight in your bones.

It must be Celeste coming to bother you.

You’re in bed, your duvet up to your chin, your voice carrying as you defeatedly say, “Fine.”

The butler opens the door and scurries back down the hallway.

Rafe meant to be firm but civil, to handle this level-headedly, but when he steps inside to see that you’re lying in bed as early as four in the afternoon, as if you work hard like he does, as if you have ever worked at all, stirs something vicious beneath the surface.

You symbolize everything he can’t afford to be: lethargic and ambitionless, with no desire to impress anyone. And Kal wouldn’t have cornered him and his dad into this stupid agreement if you weren’t such a loose cannon.

“Shit, must be tiring doing nothing all day,” he says.

Your muscles are heavy as you push your duvet off, sitting up. It’s infuriating how this man knows absolutely nothing about you and assumes the worst.

“Why are you here?” you ask. You don’t give into the urge to snap at him in case he came to tell you that he changed his mind. But you have very little hope in people, especially those who work with your dad.

“I’m getting my stuff moved into the condo,” he confirms. “You should do the same.”

Anger rushes through you, pushing you to stand. You close the distance, refusing to let him intimidate you.

Rafe meets the fire in your eyes. Considering how you threatened Kal that you’d expose your own family to the press, and what he’d just learned from his dad, he realizes a penchant for blackmail must run in your blood.

“I asked you nicely not to do this,” you say through clenched teeth.

“That was you being nice?” he replies with a pompous smirk, towering over you.

You snarl. It’s ridiculous to expect people to believe that this is the man who changed everything for you, who fixed you and made you want to fall in line all of a sudden.

“You’ll regret this,” you tell him.

Rafe’s impulses are louder than the voice of reason telling him that being calm will get you on his side. How can he be calm when you bring out the worst in him?

“Don’t screw with me,” he mutters. “You think your dad won’t write you out the second I tell him you’re not cooperating?”

You stifle the frown that’s tugging at your lips.

You’re well aware that your own father wouldn’t hesitate to take a man like Rafe’s side over yours. You accepted it long ago, mentally checked out and numb to his cruelty.

But hearing him say it out loud, after two days of such vicious, unexpected turmoil, cuts deep.

You shouldn’t have expected any humanity in Rafe. You’ve been surrounded by ruthlessness all your life, and your father only associates with people who are the same way.

“Get the fuck out of my room,” you say sternly.

“It’s not your room anymore,” he says with a smirk, on his way out, done here anyway.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

The penthouse floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the sea. You gaze at the view, the orange sun sinking into the embrace of glittering water.

It’s being wasted on you. You can’t find any beauty in it. You had your things moved into the condo, every room on your side of the unit furnished and filled with your possessions.

It was set up early this morning, without you here. Celeste won’t take the risk of anyone recognizing you, making sure even the movers had no chance to see whose things they’re setting up.

She let you know when everything was done, and you just crossed into the empty penthouse minutes ago, taking in the massive space, decorated nicely but heartlessly, a staged house instead of a real home.

You sit on the edge of your new bed in your new room. You gaze at the gulls floating over the sky, envious of how they can do as they please.

The front door unlatches with a loud click. Surely your new roommate. Moments later, you hear a knock at your door, followed by his deep, muffled voice.

“We need to talk.”

Rafe just finished up at the gym, taking his anger out through a hard workout in an effort to find some balance.

He knows he’s been handling this wrong. He can’t try to intimidate you, although ordering you to go along with this is the only thing he wants to do.

He needs to have you on his side if he’s meant to be giving your father updates on you. If he’s meant to make his own father proud.

“Leave me alone,” you reply.

He sighs to himself, staring down at his hands, thumbs rubbing over his calluses.

It’s moments like these that thoughts of his mom slip in without warning, memories surfacing of how composed she always was, even as her sickness slowly pulled her away, and how none of that quiet strength passed on to him.

“This doesn’t have to be hard,” he says, his words measured, tension brimming beneath each one. “We just… we got off on the wrong foot, alright?”

When you stride across your room and jerk open the door, you almost falter from how he looks with his guard down, rugged but soft, like he’s some sort of challenge in self-restraint. But even the lustful warmth simmering in you can’t distract you from how angry you are.

As handsome as he is, he’s just as cruel.

“Leave me alone,” you repeat, then slam the door.

Rafe’s temper flares in him like fire doused with fuel. He angrily storms back to his side of the condo. Too much is on the line here. And he has no choice but to withstand the pressure.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

You’ve managed to avoid running into Rafe the entirety of the next day.

That night, after begrudgingly doing your makeup and slipping on the designer dress Celeste had sent for you, you make your way to the investor gala.

The cameras’ shutters are sharp in your ears as you exit the backseat, engulfed by bright flashes that blind you on your way to the banquet hall’s entrance.

It’s one reason out of a thousand why you hate these events; they put you right in the line of fire. You can only imagine how many photos of you are owned by strangers, images immortalizing your pain.

Stepping into the enormous, loud, twinkling hall is even more jarring. You immediately feel eyes boring into you, hushed whispers circling. You can’t remember the last time you crossed a room towards your family, instead of away from them.

You find the table near the stage, most of the seats already filled with your family members and their business associates. Your hands clasp around your purse as your eyes travel over the place cards.

Rafe is the first to notice you, the darkness of his suit made even blacker contrasted by his icy eyes. His gaze hardens and trails down your body, taking in how the dress’s expensive material gently accentuates your curves.

He looks away. But you already caught him. And it’s promising to know you have an effect on him. You can use this to your advantage. For the first time since this began, you feel like you may get the upper hand on Rafe, which offers you a quiet sense of confidence.

“None for her,” Kal says to a server holding a tray of filled champagne glasses towards you.

You glare at your father before defiantly taking a glass and sitting next to Rafe.

He always needs to prove to whoever’s nearby that he doesn’t endorse his shameful daughter’s mistakes. His harshness is both overt and surgical. It’s why you gave up on any sort of relationship with him long ago.

“Nice to see you, too,” you retort, then take a sip of the champagne.

Rafe already loathes your father for threatening his family. He hates him even more now for putting you in a worse mood. It’ll only make his job harder.

“I thought Dad was joking about you coming,” your oldest brother, Sam, says with a snide smirk. “Why are you here? Finally got banned from every bar in the city?”

His wife gently smacks his chest, but the grin on her face tells you she’s only pretending to scold him while actually amused. It’s so typical of him, trying to make you feel like you don’t belong, as if you don’t already know you have no place in your family.

“I just wanted a change of pace,” you say. “It can be refreshing to spend an evening with a bunch of assholes.”

Your mother glares at you. Your father sharply mutters your name. It’s infuriating. Sam’s allowed to chide you, but defending yourself is where a line is drawn.

You down the champagne and put the glass on the table with a thud. You’re not sure you can do this. Not without imploding.

Rafe brings his focus back to his goal. He needs to stay on course. He knows he can charm a girl when he wants to. He just has to act like he wants to do it to you.

“Let’s go to the bar,” he murmurs, only loud enough for you to hear.

You meet Rafe’s eyes again and despite how much he pesters you, it’s the best offer you can get right now. You’re desperate for something stronger, and you are meant to pretend you’re hitting it off with him tonight.

You nod silently, standing up, not waiting for him to follow.

Rafe pushes his hands into his pockets as he navigates through the crowds. He strides faster so he can walk next to you, licking his lips before he speaks.

“Do they always spew bullshit like that?” he says.

You know Rafe’s only pretending to be friendly to keep up appearances. This is all this side of your life is; either pointed aggression or manipulative politeness.

You’ve learned long ago that you can’t believe what anyone says to you, especially if they work with Kal.

“Don’t be fake with me,” you say. “It’s annoying.”

Rafe exhales sharply. He’s not even being fake. He’s genuinely annoyed by your father’s antagonism.

You reach the bar, leaning forward, your forearms pressing against the cool countertop.

Rafe’s eyes hungrily drift down your back. It’s a hard pill to swallow; there’s no chance he’d get to do anything about the carnal pull he feels towards you. Not when you’re at each other’s throats.

“I’m just saying your dad can be a dick,” he mumbles, stepping closer, gazing down at your profile.

“Well, you can stop saying anything.”

His jaw firms. It’s taking everything not to tell you off right now.

You order a strong drink. It makes him regret pulling you away here. He should’ve asked you to talk outside.

“Rafe,” you hear. “Hey, how are you?”

A man claps a hand on his shoulder. You glance up at Rafe, watching him turn it on, his charming smile, his steely confidence.

“Your dad around?” he asks.

Rafe resents how people act like he’s his father’s assistant, like he can’t offer anything of significance in a conversation.

“Not tonight,” Rafe says. You notice the tick in his jaw. “I know he’s been meaning to meet with you.”

“He’s a busy man,” he replies. “I’ll give him a call tomorrow. Don’t let me bother you. Have a good night.”

The man doesn’t even glance at you, but you’re used to that. At events like these, men either pretend like you aren’t here, or check you out and try to hide it just like Rafe did.

“Who’s his dad?” you ask the stranger.

You catch a flash of something imperceptible on Rafe’s face, maybe anger, maybe sadness. It’s gone before you can ascertain it.

“Ward Cameron. The CEO of Cameron Development,” the man tells you, as if it’s common knowledge.

It hits you. Your father said this marriage would be a joining of families. He was being literal. You stare up at Rafe, tilting your head, discovering the surname he must carry, as the man steps away.

“That's why you agreed to this,” you say with a patronizing laugh. “You’re a grown man following your dad’s orders. How old are you?”

Rafe stares down at you, contempt in every crease of his face. The audacity you have to look down on him when you haven’t lifted a finger in your life makes him anger rip through him.

“I’m doing this because it’s good for business,” he half-lies. “You don’t know shit about having responsibilities, do you?”

You hate how effortlessly he rips open your wounds. Your brothers have always been expected to take on the family business, but you were never even a consideration.

You’re not next in line. You never will be. You’re the afterthought, the accident, the mistake they wish they could take back. And nobody sees past your indiscretions and scandals. Nobody sees you.

“I’m busting my ass earning an MBA,” you say to prove him wrong, “but sure, assume whatever you want. I can’t expect better from someone whose only qualification is being his boss’s son.”

Rafe leans even closer to you, his nostrils flaring. He despises the implication that he didn’t earn his spot. It’s been gruelling trying to prove himself.

And the impulsive words sitting on his tongue are too strong to swallow.

“You’re nothing but a spoiled brat,” he mutters.

You let out a dangerously angry chuckle, your fingers gripping the glass the bartender just handed you.

“You have no idea how close I am to throwing this drink in your face,” you reply.

His gaze darts away, tense in case your conversation is falling on other ears. You’re meant to look like you like each other, but he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do when you have a natural talent for pushing every single one of his buttons.

You smirk, proud to see him uneasy for once. You cling onto the sliver of power you have, desperate to call the shots however you can.

“I’m going to go back to my seat,” you say. “I’ll sit through my mom’s announcement and stay until my family leaves. But if you say anything to me, I’m gone. We already met like we were supposed to. There’s no reason for you to talk to me anymore.”

You walk back to your seat. Rafe follows.

Minutes after your mother’s announcement that she’s running for office, he makes a passing comment to you, and you stand up and collect your purse.

You’re staying true to your word.

“Where do you think you’re going?” your father asks.

“Blame him,” you reply, pointing to Rafe.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

You ignore the gossip columns on social media, but now that your future hinges on how convincing you’re being, you scroll over the posts on your phone as you brush your teeth.

The posts about your unexpected appearance at the gala aren’t complimentary. The people in the comments aren’t any better.

Someone said under a photo of you arriving at the event that you have resting bitch face. Another person replied that it’s because you’re a bitch.

You’re fine with the label. You’d rather people see you as crass and disrespectful, instead of the shattered woman you really are. And you’re barely holding yourself together long enough to make your exit.

You just have to pull an insane stunt off to get there.

The front door clicks open, followed by footsteps barrelling down the hallway. You spit out your toothpaste into the sink, rolling your eyes in anticipation for Rafe’s inevitable tantrum. You have to admit that the anger on his face when you left the gala an hour ago was worth it, though.

You open your ensuite bathroom door to face him, still a little dizzy from all you’d drank tonight, watching him angrily tug his tie off as he crosses into your bedroom.

“You can’t just come in here,” you mutter.

“What the fuck was that?” he says, trying to ignore the fact that you’re in shorts now, that he can see so much of your legs in his peripheral. “Are you forgetting what’s on the line?”

“You mean like your daddy’s approval?” you taunt.

“You have way more at risk than I do,” he fibs. The truth is, he needs you, and he’s still trying to figure out how to balance gaining your trust and holding his ground.

“I did as I was told tonight,” you say with a shrug.

“You said you were going to look like you wanted to be at these things,” he reminds you, realizing he’s actually never seen anything but frustration on your face, never seen a sincere smile.

“I warned you that I’d leave if you tried talking to me,” you counter.

Rafe rubs his forehead, sighing in exasperation.

“What do you need?” he mutters.

“What?” you ask.

“What do you need for all this to be… easier?”

You’re not sure of the last time anyone asked you what you need.

You stare up at him, his loosened tie and undone top buttons taunting you. You will yourself not to gaze at his exposed skin, to not give into the ache pooling in your core, to not accept that he makes you hot all over, not with just anger, but with desire, too.

He gets to you, and you can tell by the way he looked at you tonight that you get to him, and it baffles you, this ability to loathe someone and want them in the same breath, this craving for someone you can’t stand.

You have a feeling the tension between you is only going to thicken. Relieving it would feel nice, but torturing him would feel even better.

“When I say to leave me alone, you do it,” you finally answer.

“Fine,” Rafe concedes.

“And don’t bullshit me,” you say. “I know you were just trying to get on my good side when you said that crap about my dad.”

“Nah, I meant that,” he replies, jaw tensing. “Trust me.”

You could never trust him, someone so soulless, so fixed on personal gain. Still, there’s no retort waiting on your lips for once. Within seconds, he’s thrown you off by asking about your needs, by seeing the negativity in your father that everyone else is willfully blind to.

You start to shut your bathroom door to end the conversation, but his words slow you down.

“Don’t leave like that when we’re supposed to be together, got it?” he says while staring at the floor, yearning to at least appear to have some control here.

You scoff. The familiar stab of resentment you feel whenever someone tries to assume control over you cuts into you.

“I never asked what you need,” you say, shutting the door.

Rafe groans, and the second he’s in his bedroom, he sweeps everything off his dresser in one violent motion, his anger demanding a way out. Items crash to the floor, chaos at his feet, no different than the storm that’s raging inside of him.

▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱▰▱

The next morning, you walk into the kitchen, purposely not having changed out of your revealing pajamas. You heard Rafe shuffling around here minutes ago, prompting you to walk in just to taunt him.

That hungry look he gave you last night has been lodged in your thoughts since the moment he gave it. You get under his skin. And when you have that kind of power, you’re using it. You’re going to dangle what he can’t have right in front of him. Let him squirm. He deserves it.

You ignore him as he sits in the dining room and you open the fridge, bending over, hips perched in the air.

Rafe stares, your position in those tiny shorts sending a hot tightening between his thighs. His hands itch to grip you, to unravel the knot you’re tying deep inside him.

You glance over your shoulder. As expected, he’s staring at your ass. He looks back down at his coffee.

“Did Celeste tell you when we can expect more groceries?” you ask amusedly, self-assured.

“I know as much as you do,” he murmurs, his eyes low.

“Great,” you breathe, shutting the fridge. “I’ll grab something on my way.”

“You got class?” he asks. He’s still thrown by the fact that you’re a postgrad, that the tabloids he read didn’t say anything about you being in college, and just as annoyed that you’re so private about everything.

“Nosy,” you reply, proving his point as you pace out of the kitchen.

Rafe exhales sharply. It’s fully setting in now how difficult keeping tabs on you is going to be.

He’s trapped, living with a woman who pisses him off more than anyone he’s ever met, who’s so tantalizing that it makes every part of him ache.

He thought he could handle you. He was dead wrong.

(to be continued)

new parts of this series drop at 9 pm eastern on thursdays. my update account is @xorafe-library if you want post notifications.

[karaswnee]

George Weasley’s NSFW Alphabet

[ Headcanons ]

A – Aftercare:

Deeply affectionate.

He won’t make a fuss, but he’ll clean you up, wrap you in his arms, and rest his forehead against yours in silence that says everything.

B – Body Part:

Your neck.

He’s obsessed—kissing it, biting it, whispering filth into it.

Loves leaving marks right where your collar can’t hide them.

C – Cum:

Controlled but deliberate.

He wants to see it on you.

On your stomach, chest, lips—he’ll always tell you how gorgeous you look with it.

D – Dirty Secret:

He’s fantasized about you tied up with a Weasley Wizard Wheeze invention—helpless, flushed, and entirely at his mercy.

E – Experience:

Plenty.

He’s confident, clever, and effortlessly charming.

He doesn’t brag, but he knows what he’s doing.

F – Favorite Position:

From behind, pulling your body tight against him, one hand over your mouth to quiet your moans while he ruins you from the inside out.

G – Goofy:

Less than Fred.

He’ll smirk, sure—but in bed, George is focused.

Still lighthearted, but his teasing is slow, dark, and dangerous.

H – Hair:

Neat-ish.

Keeps it tidy enough not to be a distraction, but he’s not fussy.

Down below?

Trimmed, clean, and soft if you notice.

I – Intimacy:

Quiet and real.

He’s not loud about his emotions, but he shows them—through gentle touches, eye contact, and small, serious words mid-act.

J – Jack Off:

Often enough.

He’s not shy about it, and he’s absolutely thought about you touching yourself while saying his name.

K – Kinks:

Restraints, sensory play, edging.

He likes control—watching you squirm, beg, gasp.

(Bonus: he loves enchanted toys he can activate with a snap.)

L – Location:

Prefect’s bathroom.

Hidden corners of the shop.

Once, a disused classroom with protective wards.

Always prepared, always private.

M – Motivation:

Your voice.

Say his name with that soft edge, that whine—he’ll be on you before you finish the sentence.

N – No:

Anything impersonal.

He needs connection, chemistry—he won’t treat you like a warm body.

If you check out emotionally, so does he.

O – Oral:

Giving: he devours. Slow, deliberate, with those clever fingers holding your thighs apart. He doesn’t stop until you’re shaking.

Receiving: silent, dangerous eye contact and a hand in your hair. You’ll feel every tense second of how close he is.

P – Pace:

Starts slow, builds steadily, finishes hard.

He makes you feel every second, every stroke—until you’re begging him to speed up.

Q – Quickie:

Yes, but only if he knows you’re into it too.

In between classes, before dinner, just long enough to leave you ruined for the rest of the day.

R – Risk:

Moderate.

He’s not reckless like Fred, but he likes the thrill.

Secrecy makes it hotter, especially if you have to muffle yourself.

S – Stamina:

Excellent.

He’ll go multiple rounds, take breaks, then go again.

He’s patient, determined, and lowkey relentless.

T – Toys:

Loves them—especially magical ones.

He’s invented a few himself.

Vibrating charms, teasing cuffs, heat-triggered spells—he’ll test them all on you.

U – Unfair:

A menace.

He’ll edge you for an hour and whisper “not yet,” every time you think it’s coming.

And then he’ll kiss you sweetly like it’s mercy.

V – Volume:

Low groans, breathy curses, quiet commands.

But the moment you go down on him or say his name the right way?

He gets louder—low, hungry noises.

W – Wild Card:

He enchanted one of the shop’s testing rooms with a silencing charm and “accidentally” locked you in there.

You didn’t come out for an hour.

X – X‑Ray:

Lean muscle from lifting crates and broom flying.

Freckles scattered across his collarbones, a scar across his ribs from a prototype gone wrong.

Y – Yearning:

Very high.

You won’t always know it—he hides it better than Fred—but the moment you let him touch you, he’s gone.

Z – Zzz:

Sleeps tangled around you.

If you try to slip out, his arm drags you back in without even waking.

Sleeps deep, sleeps warm, sleeps with you.

[fxckingjo]

𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖔𝖓𝖊 𝖇𝖆𝖉𝖑𝖞 𝖙𝖔 𝖇𝖚𝖗𝖓 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖒𝖊

supe!reader/soldier boy

title from 'i want someone badly' by jeff buckley

in which soldier boy discovers he's the only one immune to your lethal touch.

You don't know how this happened.

One minute, Butcher was ranting about the latest mission gone wrong, intercepted by some "Vought cunts" or whatever. You were only half-listening, which was probably your first mistake, but focusing on controlling your powers is half the battle from the moment you wake up to the moment you go to bed. You're an unstable wildcard, but because of your... unique skillset, Billy Butcher decided you're more valuable alive than dead.

"We've got a new weapon to take that Homelander fuck right off the board—"

All it took was that one statement to bring him out of the backroom, white powder dribbling from his nose, blunt tucked behind his ear. You hear his thoughts before you see him, and the sound of his voice, gruff and loud and so, so very masculine, sends a chill down your spine. You wonder if he sounds the same out loud as he does in his mind.

Gonna kill the british one first, the prick. I ain't nobody's soldier—

Nice ass, sweetheart.

Who the hell is she?

"Soldier Boy, back from the dead."

Soldier Boy? You know Soldier Boy because of his memorial, or his reputation as a very dead American hero. This man is very much alive, and he's standing way too close to you.

There's a rule, you see, to surviving your abilities. Don't touch. Never, ever touch. Skin to skin turns optional telepathy into a mind-melting deep dive. When someone touches you, you drown inside their thoughts, and the harder they hold, the quicker you sink.

Until their brain goes...

Well, let's just say Victoria Neuman isn't the only supe who can blow people's heads up.

The difference is she can control it. You, on the other hand? Long sleeves and gloves for days. Using clothes to build a psychic wall. There's a reason Vought had you on lockdown before Starlight and Butcher got you free.

"Who's the babe?" Soldier Boy asks, lighting his blunt. A puff of marijuana wafts into your face. You cough.

You tell him your name, nose scrunched with disgust.

"Your new sidekick," Butcher informs him calmly. "The pair of you are the two most dangerous supes on the street, which means we'll be keeping you together until we can ice the caped cunt."

You protest first. "I'm not a goddamn sidekick!"

Soldier Boy adds, "And I sure as shit don't work for you."

The protests don't matter. The simple fact is that Butcher has enough on both of you to make this a matter of a vested interest, so you swallow your anger and pride down deep and face the music.

Then it happens.

You're sitting at the table cleaning your gun, because the monotony of taking it apart and scrubbing it inch by inch helps you feel grounded. Safe if Vought comes knocking. No gloves, because it's the only way to get in all the nooks and crannies.

Soldier Boy watches, and then he makes one, earth-shattering move. "You're doing that wrong, doll. Here—"

He grabs your hand.

Time stands still.

You jerk your arm free, dropping the piece of the gun and polish onto the table. You pull your gloves on as fast as you can, shocked, desperately looking at him. "Why would you do that?!"

Soldier Boy frowns, his eyebrows raised high above his emerald eyes. "Sorry, dollface. Didn't know you were so touchy."

"It's not touchy!"

Butcher's jaw is wound tight, but surprise flits through his internal monologue. "That's not bloody possible."

"Can someone speak fuckin English? The hell is goin on?" Soldier Boy demands. "Someone start fucking talking."

Hughie blinks a few times. "She... Well..."

"Spit it out!"

"People can't touch me!" you exclaim. "It's hard to explain but—"

Butcher answers for you. "Any cunt without the sense to back off her gets his gourd popped like a party balloon."

"So what? No one can touch you? Ever?"

You shake your head. "They tested it a thousand times. Vought. Supes they didn't like, staff they wanted to dispose of. Every single time, I'd get sucked in and then..."

Butcher snaps his fingers. The asshole.

"Nothing happened when I touched you," Soldier Boy remarks.

"Maybe it wasn't long enough?" Hughie supposes.

Soldier Boy grabs your arm again. Firm enough to keep you from moving, but not hard enough to hurt you. His fingers push up your sleeve, wrapping around your bare wrist. A second passes. Then another. You can hear his thoughts if you focus, but you're not sinking. You're not getting lost. He's not screaming in pain.

You can't speak. Can't form words. The room is silent, watching in horror as the scene unfolds.

"Fuck," he says, finally letting go. "This could come in handy one day."

"Don't do that again!" you snap, finding your voice.

Soldier Boy leans in, real close. "Next time, doll, you'll be begging me to touch you."

[yuma-mukami-garden-god]

Hellooo can i request how would cockwarming with the diaboys feel like?

Shu Sakamaki

Pure lazy indulgence. Shu pulls you onto his lap, sinks into you with a sigh, and just… stays there.

“You’re warm… Don’t move. I’ll fall asleep like this.”

One hand on your thigh, thumb lazily brushing circles, his breathing slows.

He doesn’t even thrust — just loves the feeling of being sheathed inside you while you both nap.

Reiji Sakamaki

Strict control and discipline. You’re only allowed to warm him after being exceptionally good.

“Sit. Hush. You’ll take me until I decide you’ve earned more.”

Back straight, legs shaking, he makes you sit perfectly still.

Any twitch, any whimper? He smirks.

“I suppose you need more training.”

Ayato Sakamaki

Chaotic and cocky. He acts like it’s torture — for you, not him.

“Oi, chichinashi… You’re squeezing so tight. You that needy, huh?”

Grabs your hips but refuses to move.

He lives for watching you squirm and beg.

“You wanna ride me? Too bad. You stay like that. I’m enjoying this way too much.”

Kanato Sakamaki

Emotionally intense. Possessive.

“You’re mine. Mine mine mine.”

Holds you tight to his chest, buried deep inside, Teddy on the bed beside you.

Every time you clench, he whines.

“If you move without permission… I’ll punish you.”

But he’s shivering more than you are.

Laito Sakamaki

Pure tease. He nuzzles into your neck, hips nudging just a bit too deep before he stops.

“Fufufu~ Doesn’t it feel good just being full of me, Bitch-chan?”

He whispers filth in your ear while making zero effort to move.

Drives you insane until you’re begging.

Then he laughs:

“Aww~ You’re clenching~ So impatient…”

Subaru Sakamaki

Blushing. Panting. Shaking.

He swears this isn’t even about sex but then keeps pressing in deeper.

“D-Don’t move… I-I said don’t—!”

His arms are locked around you and he’s hiding his face in your neck.

Every twitch makes him grunt.

“This is torture… but it’s you, so I can’t stop.”

Ruki Mukami

Obedience training. That’s what it is for him.

“Livestock… you’ll stay filled until I permit you release.”

You’re kneeling in his lap, wrists bound, trembling.

He strokes your back, kisses your neck gently… but won’t let you grind.

“You’re a good pet… Stay full. That’s your place.”

Kou Mukami

Soft and sadistic. He calls you his “Neko-chan” while brushing your hair, smiling sweetly.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Being stuffed full and helpless~”

He hums a tune while you're twitching in his lap.

The only movement is the slow flex of him inside you — teasing.

“You love this… you’re purring for me.”

Yuma Mukami

Heavy. Warm. Intense.

His arms lock around you like a cage. He groans low in your ear.

“Damn, you’re tight… You sure you can take me like this?”

Holds you still and lets you just sit there, cock buried to the hilt, feeling every throb.

“Don’t squirm, baby. I ain’t lettin’ you go.”

Azusa Mukami

Whimpery and sweet.

He’s trembling as much as you are, voice breathy.

“It hurts… but feels good… to be inside you like this…”

Clings to you, needing the closeness more than the motion.

“Let’s stay like this… forever… please…”

Shin Tsukinami

Smirking menace. You know he’s doing it just to test your limits.

“Look at you. Stuffed and squirming already?”

Makes you sit in his lap for hours, whispering filth but never moving.

“You wanna ride me? Then beg, kitten. Louder.”

He feeds off your desperation.

Carla Tsukinami

Cold control, then sudden warmth.

At first, he says nothing, just holds you down on him with one hand, expression unreadable.

But as time passes and you tremble around him…

“…You enjoy this connection, don’t you?”

Kisses your temple.

“I will stay inside until your body memorizes mine.”

Kino

Teasing brat. Constantly shifting just enough to make you gasp.

“Oops~ Was that too deep?”

Wraps an arm around you from behind and murmurs,

“Your body loves this. Can you feel how full you are, baby?”

Will edge you for hours like this and then say,

“…Let’s do it again.”

Karlheinz

Regal and possessive. He sees cockwarming as a sacred ritual.

“You were made to take me… like this. Quiet. Still.”

He holds your hips in place and murmurs words in another language, like a spell.

It feels like being worshipped, claimed, devoured without motion.

“You are my sanctuary… and my undoing.”

Richter

Rough hands, low voice. He likes watching you struggle not to grind.

“You’re so full… but you’re being good. Hnn.”

Keeps you stuffed while he talks, smokes, or strokes your thigh like it’s nothing.

“You move too much, and I’ll pin you down and finish what you started.”

[theamphibianmen]

Putting the word dissociate on a high shelf where no one can reach it forever and ever sorry

[bizarrelovetriangel]

needy.

they joke about you being needy but you take it seriously so you stopped kissing and sleeping with them and suddenly they're not laughing anymore.

mdni. 18+ only. grinding. suggestive but no actual sex. reader enjoys being an insufferable tease <3

sylus.

You pushed him down on the couch and straddled his thighs while one of his hand runs up and down your back, and the other rests on your waist.

He breaks free from your deep kiss with a playful smirk on his face.

"You've been quite needy lately, kitten."

You paused.

Needy?

"Oh."

Sylus froze as soon as he saw the lack of amusement on your face.

"I didn't mean — "

"No, you're so right." You suddenly got off his lap and expertly dodged the hands that attempted to catch you and pull you back down. "I really should calm down, shouldn't I ?"

"No — "

"That's such a great idea, Sylus." you smiled and pinched his cheek. "Let's do something else instead. Let's make cookies!"

That was the start of Sylus' awful week, when he didn't get to touch you at all.

No hand holding.

No hugs.

No kisses.

No sex.

Sylus thinks he might actually go insane.

But he can't lose your game so easily.

He'll toughen up if he must.

He lasted years without you and he had successfully kept his distance from you, no matter how difficult and tempting, until the time was right.

His patience and self-control are not to be underestimated.

He'll be fine.

That's what Sylus keeps reminding himself every time he gets the urge to hold you. Every time his eyes fall to your lips, he tells himself that he'll survive without them.

You're trying to punish him for calling you needy, but he won't give in.

He'll wait until you give in.

It's more fun that way.

Okay, so this is harder than he thought.

It's day two and he's already weak on the knees from the very moment you walked out of the bathroom wearing the dress for tonight's date.

Sylus watched you put on your heels, flashing him a part of your thighs while doing so, and he wanted to run a hand on it to feel your smooth skin.

"Sylus?"

He blinked out of his trance to realize you just asked him a question. "What was that, sweetie?"

"I was asking if it'll be cold in the restaurant you chose, so I can know if I should bring a jacket or not."

He shook his head. "You'll be just fine."

That was a total lie.

It turned out to be cold as your table was specially reserved at a rooftop of a building.

However, it just so happens that Sylus has a jacket and the cold wasn't affecting him, so he was able to give it to you.

With a grin on his face, Sylus pulled your seat right next to his and gently put the jacket around your shoulders, making sure his fingers brush against your skin even if it's only for a second.

"Thanks." as you gave him a smile, you slightly moved closer to his face. "I feel much better now."

Sylus made the mistake of looking at your lips. Without much thought, his head tilted down and his nose grazed yours before aligning your lips.

"Wow! This wine is so good! Try it!" You shoved your glass of wine to his lips before scooting your chair back to its initial place, a couple of feet away from him.

Sylus almost choked on the alcohol but gladly accepted your offer. He put his lips on the same spot that had your lipstick stain on it.

At the very least, he got to enjoy an indirect kiss that should keep him satisfied for the rest of the week.

Or so he thought.

Day four.

The frustration has gotten to Sylus.

It's like owning the world's most valued weapon yet not being able to use it.

He can look, but he can't touch.

It's much more difficult than he thought.

Especially when you're doing everything in your power to make him cave in.

Well, technically, you aren't doing anything out of the ordinary.

Right now, all you're doing is hitting the punching bag in the exact way that he taught you, but the way you look at the moment is making him want to grab you and pin you down — or you can be the one to pin him down. It doesn't matter to him. All he wants is his body to be pressed against yours.

Sylus quietly growled under his breath.

He clenched his fist and started to hit the other punching bag, hoping to take away some of the tension burning inside him, particularly inside his shorts.

You tilted your head and watched curiously as Sylus' punches to the sandbag has gotten heavier, leaving such satisfying sounds at the impact.

"Whoa! So good! You look like you're getting ready to beat up some real nasty bad guys. Did anyone piss you off or something?" You picked up the clean towel nearby and held it up towards his face to wipe the sweat on his forehead. "You do look tense lately."

Sylus' left hand suddenly caught the one you're using to wipe his face. "You're a vicious little kitten."

He gave your hand a kiss before stepping back and patting your head before walking out of the room and leaving you alone.

"Hey, where are you going?! We haven't sparred yet!"

"Shower." He looked over his shoulder to give you a smirk. "Would you like to join?"

You almost agreed in a heartbeat.

But you have to stay strong.

"Nope, I'll just stay here and keep practicing so I can kick your ass the next time we spar."

Your own answer only disappointed the both of you.

Day seven.

You and Sylus went out for a ride on his newest motorcycle at night, on the empty, spatious roads of N109.

It was the worst idea of all.

As the one that's manipulating the vehicle, you're the one sitting at the front and you took advantage of the close proximity by pressing your ass right against his crotch.

Sylus had to concentrate on making sure his grip on your waist doesn't hurt you, with the way his body had gone stiff. Every part of him.

Every bump on the road slammed your hips against him and he had to hold his breath every time. His pants became tighter and tighter by the minute, and his breath had gotten unsteady.

He was sweating throughout the entire ride.

And once you finally made it back to his place, Sylus' patience finally broke.

From the moment you got off the motorcycle, Sylus quickly removed his motorcycle before taking off yours.

As soon as your face was in clear view, before you could even comprehend what was happening, Sylus' left hand caressed your jawline before locking his lips with yours.

Your eyes widened with surprise, though you didn't waste a precious second to kiss him back and pull him close by grabbing onto his shoulders.

Sylus didn't dare to pull away until he was out of breath. Even then, he'd only stop for a second before diving back in like a starved man.

Every time you'd pull back to gasp for air, Sylus would come after your lips and slip his tongue between them to capture yours.

"You win." he huffs in between kisses while your hands run through the strands of his hair. "I yield."

"Heh?" you can't help but grin. "What are you talking about? What are you yielding for?"

"Don't play innocent, kitten. You know what you've been doing." He tapped your forehead as you laughed. "I won't call you needy ever again, so if you could stop teasing me, I'd greatly appreciate it." he whispered against your ear before kissing it softly, "I don't know how long I can keep holding back."

"Since you learned your lesson...." you pressed your lips under his jaw. "You don't need to hold back anymore."

That was all he needed to hear.

Sylus wrapped your legs around his hips and kept you up against him as he made his way into his bedroom.

zayne

You're drawing random patterns with your finger on Zayne's bare chest as you cuddle with him when suddenly, he made a lighthearted joke.

"Your libido has been rather high lately. Based on my record, your premenstrual syndrome symptoms shouldn't be showing up for another two weeks."

You looked up to see the playful grin on his face.

"Oh, is that right?" you huff. "Must be my diet or something. No worries, I'll fix it."

Zayne blinked with confusion. "Huh?" But he received no more response for an explanation as you closed your eyes and drifted oft to sleep.

It was only until the very next day when he realized his mistake when he received absolutely zero kisses.

He was quick to figure out what brought on such an evil scheme.

"Oh, no..."

Day three.

You stopped by his work to join him for lunch, just as he requested.

Zayne observed that you're not angry with him and you have no problem spending time with him. You act normal for the most part. The one big change with your behavior is that you refuse to give him any physical affection.

You didn't even give him a hug as you greeted him.

It feels strange. It's like he's forgetting something as important like his wallet or his car keys.

"Are you punishing me for what I said the other day?"

"What you said the other day?"

"You know... about your high libido...."

He could've sworn a vein popped out from your forehead just now and he does his best to suppress a smile of amusement. He's already in trouble. He doesn't want to dig his grave any deeper.

"Nope! I don't care at all!"

Despite the words that came out of your mouth, you continued to make him suffer.

Later that day, you met up aftet work to drink milk tea while taking a night stroll around the city during such a lovely weather.

The way you were smiling the whole time made Zayne want to hold your hand and keep you close to him.

And yet, you were constantly moving around so much, either on purpose or due to all the sugar from your drink, so he ended the night feeling somewhat emptyhanded.

He hasn't realized until now just how much he enjoys even the little touches you grace him with.

Day five.

You and Zayne attended a formal event.

It's a banquet for the hunters association and you were obligated to come, and he was your date, so you two dressed up nicely to follow the dress code.

Although, if he was being honest, Zayne wishes you two are still in your apartment, where he can have you all to himself.

Ever since he had come to your home to picked you up, he couldn't keep his eyes off you. And throughout the event, he has been rather... uneasy.

As you're eating dessert, Zayne can't help but imagine tasting it from your lips. It has been days since he last kissed you, and he needed to be reminded of your sweetness.

He needed to feel the warmth and softness of your skin underneath your dress.

Zayne lets out a shaky breath before loosening his tie.

It seems that the room suddenly feels hot.

Or maybe it's just his racing mind and heart and the blood rushing down below his hips.

"Zayne, are you okay?"

You scooted your chair closer to him so that your legs are touching. You faced him and put a hand on his forehead.

"You feel warm. Are you sick?"

Zayne lets out a laugh that was half-nervous. "Are you teasing me again?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just worried about you."

He detected from your tone that you are indeed teasing him.

On the drive back, Zayne was clutching the steering wheel as his mind continues to race, imagining all the things that he'd been wanting to do with you. Sitting still became difficult with a bulge rising through his pants.

But yet again, he ends the night without a single touch from you.

And Zayne has decided, he'll never joke about anything ever again.

Day six.

On his day off, Zayne had taken you out for a picnic and the torture continues.

Whenever you two have a picnic, there's lots of cuddling involved. This time, there's none at all and there's the Happy Snowman plushie sitting right between you two as a barrier.

You two are playing kitty cards and Zayne seems to be on top of his game today.

After all, he had a special proposal.

"Whoever wins must do something that the winner wants."

It's a simple but classic prize that no one can ever resist, so you gladly accepted the challenge thinking you'd easily win.

But Zayne's focus is unshakeable.

He's consecutively dropping assist cards to take away your points, and somehow he's stocking up all the sixes.

He won't even let you switch cards by acting cute. That's how serious it is right now. The stakes are high.

After six rounds, Zayne comes out as the winner.

"How could this happen?!"

Zayne chuckles at your dramatic cries, aggressively shaking Happy Snowman as if it was the one responsible for your loss.

Unfortunately for Happy Snowman, it's Zayne's turn to have your attention.

Zayne snatched the plushie out of your hands and set it aside.

"Darling, it's time for me to claim my prize."

You sigh and bowed playfully. "Yes, yes, congratulations for being crowned as the King of the Kitties. What can I do for you, Your Highness?"

Zayne smiled and gently held your chin with his fingers before guiding you to look up so you can lock gazes.

"Kiss me."

Your mouth drops at his request, face immediately heating up.

"Oh."

He found a way to end your silly little game.

He really is a clever boy.

"Your wish is my command~"

At last, you stop holding back against your urges and brought yourself on his lap.

Zayne eagerly welcomes you into his arms and wraps them around you tightly, making sure you don't try to escape.

His lips meets yours with desperation and his hands slides down to your thighs, encouraging you to sway your hips back and forth.

Between the deep and heavy kisses, he mutters, "I joked about you being needy yet here I am, being the needy one. But it's all your fault. Are you going to take responsbility for it?" Zayne pressed you down against his hips to let you feel just how hard he is for you.

"...should we end picnic early?"

"We should end picnic early."

caleb

You stumbled into his room while removing his shirt and almost tripped on his feet as you reached the bed.

"What's the rush, Pip-squeak? And here I thought I was the needy one."

Your hands come to a halt.

"What did you say?"

"I said there's no need to rush, I'm not going anywhere — "

"No, you just called me needy just now."

Caleb chuckles at your furrowed brows.

"I was joking, Pip— what are you doing?" you picked up his shirt that you dropped on the floor and threw it at his chest before walking out of his room.

"Gonna be needy all by myself in my room. Goodnight."

"Wha — hey wait!"

It's too late. You stomped your way into your own room and Caleb is left all alone with a boner that remained standing until his mood died down.

Caleb sent you a bunch of stickers, hoping you'd come back beside him. Sadly, you ignored all of them and he was forced to sleep with a cold, empty bedside.

The next day, Caleb woke up early and prepared breakfast for the two of you as usual. You came out of your room and lazily greeted him a good morning, so he was relieved to know that you weren't really mad.

But once he tried to kiss you on the cheek after giving you a cup of coffee and you blocked his lips with the palm of your hands, he learned that he's not completely off the hook just yet.

"No."

"Huh?"

"No kisses."

"What?! Why?!"

You almost laughed at the way his face shifted, looking like a little boy who'd gotten his favorite toy taken away.

"Because. I don't want to seem needy."

"Come onnnn, it was a joke! I'm sorry!" he tried to embrace you from the back but you stood up and moved away.

"Wow, look how nice the weather looks today!" you exclaimed as you look out the window, admiring the clouds of Skyhaven.

Caleb pouts at the way you deflected him.

Knowing how you behave whenever you're being petty, he has to brace himself for the worst few upcoming days of his life.

Day two.

The pout hasn't left his face.

You two are working out together at his home gym and he's pouting as he's doing push ups.

You're not even sitting on his back and motivating him to do more reps. You're just doing your own sets of excercises in front of him while pretending he's not there.

"Pip-squeak, look. I'm doing push-ups with one hand."

"...."

"Now I'm doing push-ups with just one finger!"

"..."

No matter what he did to grab your attention, he just couldn't get you to look at him.

But what if....

"Whew, it's so hot in here."

Caleb took off his shirt and threw it aside.

He tries not to grin as he caught you sneaking glances from the corner of your eye.

Now, he'll do pull-ups on the bar right in front of you.

Or at least, that was the plan.

His shirt was thrown back at his chest just like the other night.

"Caleb you dummy. You'll get cold."

You walked out of the room and he was back to pouting.

Day four.

You went back to Linkon at Monday morning. Caleb couldn't believe he lasted four whole days without getting a single kiss from you. He didn't even get to hold your hand or pat your head.

The lack of physical affection and intimacy should be nothing to him since he always had to hold back from acting on his feelings for you. He was willing to wait forever for you.

But now that he thinks about it, he'd always been touchy with you.

Even before you were in a romantic relationship, he'd given you plenty of hugs, he'd given you lots of forehead kisses, he'd hold your hands whenever you let him, he'd hold you when you don't want to sleep alone, and he'd even kissed your cheek during the times whenever you pretended to be a couple.

Physical affection has always been a part of your relationship.

Taking it away is like taking away a pilot's airplane.

Well, maybe it's not that drastic but it surely feels that way to Caleb.

Now that he's able to kiss you and hold you whenever he wants, he can't stop. He loves being with you and becoming one with you.

He can't help but seek for your touch.

It's only been a few days but he misses your warmth. He misses how you taste. He misses the sounds you'd make.

Oh, he definitely won't survive for long.

This scheme of yours has to end now.

Day five.

You got a good jumpscare when The Colonel showed up at your doorstep at night, in his full uniform and all.

Before opening the door, you peeked through the peephole and took note of his serious expression, just as The Colonel often appears as.

But the scary demeanor vanished the moment you oppened the door.

His face lights up and you're flashed with the warm smile you've used to seeing.

"Caleb! What are you doing here?!"

"I just dropped by to bring you something you forgot at my house. It's pretty important so I thought I'd make a trip to Linkon so you don't worry about it."

You let him in your apartment, trying to recall what you could have forgotten. You were able to get through a long day at work without noticing anything missing, so what could've been that important that he had to give to you immediately?

"What did I forget?"

Caleb dug something from one of the pockets of his coat.

"Ta-da! Here you go~"

Caleb took your left hand and dropped something to your palm.

".....Are you being serious right now?"

A hair clip.

"What? It's something that you use every day, is it not? I know you were probably feeling weird without it. You're welcome."

"...I leave this behind on purpose. I always use it whenever I'm at your house, every time I'm doing my hair. It was meant to stay there."

Caleb laughs and scratches the back of his head. "Oh, my baaaad, Pip-squeak. Ah, but since I'm already here, might as well have dinner together!I'll help you cook~"

He removed his hat and coat before entering your kitchen. You're in the middle of making dinner too, so he somehow arrived perfectly on time.

You should've known he came in with a mission.

As he goes around the kitchen, he does everything possible to accidentally touch you.

He'd lightly bump into you and touches your shoulder as he apologizes.

His hand brushes against your waist to move you aside so he can pass by.

He stands behind you and reaching over you so he could get some containers on the cabinet, making sure to grind his hips against your ass just for a brief second.

Eventually, you found yourself cornered against the fridge.

"What are you doing?"

"Making dinnner." you glare at him and he was quick to give you a pout. "...And trying to win your attention because you've been so mean to me by neglecting me."

"Neglecting?" you tilted your head. "But I thought I was being needy."

Caleb groans before completely losing his patience.

He pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry! I won't say it again! Please don't punish me anymore I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry — " his embrace starts getting tighter at every word, making you cough dramatically.

"Jeez, alright fine! I get it, now let me go — "

"Never!"

Caleb lifts you off the ground and nuzzles his face against yours. "So soft and so warm ~"

"Caleb, the pot is boiling!"

"The pot can wait. I'm busy."

"Caleb — " the sizzling noises from the stove forced him to jump away from you.

"Okay I'm coming!"

rafayel

"You don't need to be so needy cutie, I'm not going anywhere~"

You pulled away from his kiss and raised a brow at him. "Needy...?"

Rafayel's eyes widen as he realized what he just said. "I — I was just joking!"

"Right..."

You laughed along but five minutes later, the kisses suddenly stopped and your attention shifted to your phone to play a silly game (one that he recommended to you in the first place).

Rafayel didn't think much of it. He was able to cuddle with you as the two of you fell asleep that night.

But once he woke up, things started to seem weird to him.

As you left to go to work, you didn't give him a kiss. You always give him a kiss. You rushed out of the studio before he could even remind you about it.

He didn't get to see you for the rest of the day because the Wanderers robbed him all of your time and energy.

At the very least, he was able to videocall with you and chat with you about how your day went. Though, seeing your sleeping face made him wish he was next to you so he could comfort you and ease your exhaustion.

Day two.

You joined him for a stroll at the beach and helped him collect some shells. He tried to hold your hand but you not-so-subtly moved away from him.

The face he made was worthy of a drama actor award.

"Are you worried I'd give you a virus? Come here, cutie, I'm perfectly clean. I just took a bath an hour ago."

"No no, just don't wanna seem clingy, that's all."

Rafayel took a moment to figure out what prompted that response.

"Waaaait, you're not really mad about me calling you needy, are you? It was just a joke, Miss Bodyguuaaard..."

"Mhmm."

Rafayel sighs as he realizes you're going to prolong this cruel revenge of yours just a little further. It's good that you're not really mad, though he can't help but pout about it.

He had to walk through the beach with you so close yet so far from him, and his hands have never felt so cold and lonely.

You don't even always hold his hand, as sometimes collecting sea shells require all hands available, but now that he's aware of your punishment, he can't help but notice that he really loves holding your hand and giving you little kisses.

Without them, his day feels incomplete.

Day three.

You showed up at Rafayel's art exhibition and he's acting like you just dumped him.

"Oh, I didn't expect you to show up today, Miss Bodyguard. I thought you'd forgotten all about me."

He showed you one painting that you haven't seen finished until now.

"This is inspired by the gaping hole in my heart because my beloved has left me."

Trying not to laugh, you flicked his forehead. "Your beloved saw you this morning for breakfast and watched you get scolded by Thomas because you weren't ready for your event on time."

Rafayel huffs. "Well, I would have woken up early and would've been prepared on time if only I went to sleep early. But I couldn't sleep early because my beloved is being mean to me and won't let me kiss her."

"Weeeell, that sucks for you." you patted his shoulder. "I'm gonna go check out that lovely painting over there. See you later."

Rafayel followed you the entire time, walking so closely beside you so his hand would constantly brush against yours.

Once you reached an empty room, he stood right behind you and put a hand on the wall next to the painting that you're admiring.

His lips brushed against your ear after taking a whiff of your neck. "This perfume... it's the one that I really like..."

It was indeed the scent that makes him act like a cat that's high on catnip. You wore it on purpose, solely to get the reaction that he's giving right now.

Rafayel's lips brushed against your neck like a feather, testing the waters to see if you'd push him away.

So far, you do nothing but stare at the beautiful painting he worked months on.

His right hand landed on your stomach and gently nudged you back so that your body is right against his.

His kisses grew a little bolder, lingering on your skin a little longer.

But then, the sound of footsteps coming close forced you to spring away from him.

You held back a grin at his red face.

"This has been a wonderful exhibit, Sir Rafayel. Thank you for the tour."

"...Hmph..."

He crossed his arms and looked away, trying to calm down his racing heart.

Looks like his body craves for you more than he realized.

Day four.

"I got here as fast as I could! What's the emergency?!"

You slam the bathroom door open to find Rafayel chilling in his bathtub, naked body submerged in warm water mixed with pink foamy soap.

"...."

"Oh, good, you're finally here." Rafayel sighs with relief. "Miss bodyguard, you have to help me. I slipped from a paintbrush earlier and hurt my right arm, so I can't move it around easily because it hurts. Will you help me with my bath?"

"How did you get in the bathtub in the first place if your arm hurts so much?"

"Don't worry about it, cutie. That's in the past. I like to focus in the present."

You shook your head, though you're unable to hide a smile from his silly yet clever response.

You knelt down beside the bathtub and started petting his head. Right away, he closed his eyes and leaned in towards your touch.

You lowered your hand to his neck and brushed slowly your thumb against his skin just under his jaw, and you caught him gulping nervously.

Next, you slid your hand down to his chest, drawing random shapes between his pecs, causing his breath to stutter.

"But now that I think about it... how does one get help for taking a bath?" you asked. "What exactly do you want me to do?"

Rafayel caught your hand before you could even think about pulling away and leave him hard, just like yesterday at the exhibit.

"I just need you... to move your hand... just a little lower...."

Your face heated up at his low tone. His face had turned into a dark shade of red, flushed from the warmth you've made him feel with just a few light touches.

"You better be careful." you whispered, moving your hands down as slow as possible. "With how you sound just now, someone might think that you might be a little....needy...."

Rafayel opened his eyes but didn't move a single muscle. His hand remained on top of yours, letting you wander to wherever you want to.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe I'm the needy one." he kept his gaze fixated on you. "I need to have you close to me. I need to hold you. I need to feel you."

Your face burned.

As did the rest of your body.

At last, your hand reached where he needed you to be.

Stiff and twitching, just for you.

Your core clenched as you recall the way he feels inside you.

"If.... if I'm gonna help you take a bath, you better make some room for me."

Rafayel has never moved so quickly.

xavier

Xavier breathes heavily on his bed, face flushed and chest heaving, glistening with sweat. You're lying next to him, equally spent after getting lost in each other's bodies.

"We've been doing it so much lately, I'm starting to feel sore." he says with a chuckle, putting one hand on his neck and shoulder.

"....You're right." you softly tapped on his chest as if to give him comfort. "Don't worry, I'll let you recover. Let's not do anything for a while."

Xavier's eyes widen. "What?! That's that not what I meant — "

You let out a yawn. "I'm sleepy. Goodnight, Xavier~"

"Wait — "

"Goodnight, I said."

Day one.

You had to be joking, right?

You were probably just so tired and blurted out such a hasty statement.

You probably don't even remember what you said.

Xavier didn't forget, though. He couldn't, even if he wanted to.

When he woke up at noon, you were already at work. You made breakfast for him. If you were really upset with him, you wouldn't have cooked anything for him.

So, everything should be fine.

He arrived at work and the very first thing he did is greet you at your station. You're behind your desk, busy with a report on your computer.

"Good morning."

He leaned down to give you a hug. Although you didn't return it, you didn't deflect him.

That means you really were just bluffing. Everything is fine.

"Good morning, Xavier."

Fast forward to a couple of hours later, you two are investigating an abandoned but recently used building that's been raided by Wanderers.

There was a suspicious man on site, so you hid somewhere so that you can observe him for any possible leads.

Xavier pulled you into a room that looks to be a supplies closet, which was luckily clean enough to not contain any foul smell that would make it unbearable for you to hide in.

You stood by the door that's slightly cracked open so that you can keep an eye on the suspicious man.

Xavier stood right behind you with absolutely no space between your bodies. His left hand made its way to your waist while his lips brushes against your neck.

Before he could do anything else, you turned around and covered his mouth with one hand.

"Hmm? What are you — "

"Shhh. We need to be quiet."

Okay, so you rejected his attempt to makeout.

But that was only because you couldn't risk missing out on any leads and had to focus on the suspicious guy, right? That's all. Everything is fine.

Everything is not fine.

He caught you on a conversation with Andrew and you were touching his shoulder. Then you spoke with Simone and you were touching her arm.

But when he talked to you, you didn't touch his shoulder or anything. You didn't touch his hand and you even moved away when he tried to touch yours.

For the final check: the Pocky test.

Once you're back in his apartment after work, Xavier decided to share his last box of Pocky with you.

As you were eating one, Xavier quickly went up to you.

"Wait, let me check if yours is good."

He continued to eat the stick of Pocky until he's closer to your lips.

But then you suddenly pulled back and ate the rest.

"Wah — "

You gently patted his cheeks. "Nice try."

So, it turns out you knew what he was doing and no, you were absolutely not going to give him kisses today.

And so, sulky Xavier makes his return.

Day two.

Xavier decided to get revenge for taking away kisses and cuddles by showing you the most horrifying scary movie on both of your watch list.

You two are sitting on his giant bean-bag chair, sharing a blanket while your eyes are glued to the TV screen, unable to look away at the bloody scene of another character getting ripped apart.

Little did you know, Xavier is mentally cheering.

For every jumpscare, you scoot closer and closer to him. Around halfway of the movie, you're sitting on his lap yet you're too focused on the movie to realize it.

Xavier kept quiet and rested one hand on your thigh, while the other casually shoves popcorn in his mouth.

As the end credits started to roll, Xavier got up to refill your drinks so that you can have more for the next film, which is another horror one.

"Wait where are you going?!" you grabbed his hand before he could start walking towards the kitchen.

Xavier almost laughed at your expression. "I'm just going to get us more drinks. I won't be gone for long. Just sit here and relax."

"You're not scared even a little bit?" you murmured, tightly hugging a pillow. Right now, your brain is imagining the killer in every dark spot of the apartment.

"I'll be fine~"

Five steps forward and he suddenly turns around.

"Are you really that scared?"

He uses his evol to shine a bright light on his face while pulling a silly expression, mocking the one that the killer from the movie wore.

"Ah!"

His plan worked a little too well because now, you can't sleep alone.

"Are you really that scared?" he asked, walking up to the bed, watching you hug Bunbun with your dear life. "We fought Wanderers that are much worse. If you were in the movie, I bet you'll make a good final girl that'll outlive the killer."

He sat next to you and smiled as he put a hand on the plushie.

"Bunbun can go now. I'm taking over his job in protecting you while you sleep."

You gasped as he snatched the plushie and threw him across the room.

"Xavier!"

"Ssshh, I got you."

After turning off all the lights, he laid down next to you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to him, with your back against his chest.

The second you closed your eyes, your mind starts replaying the scariest parts of the movies you just watched, causing you to shift uncomfortably.

You hear a faint gasp behind you, but you ignore it as you're trying to block off the scary images in your head.

"Ugh! It's no good! I need a distraction."

You turned around to get your phone on the nightstand, but then you come face to face with Xavier.

"A distraction?" he leans close to you so that your noses touch. "I can give you a distraction, if you want."

"....nope, I'm good." you turned back around with a huff. "Don't wanna make you sore."

Xavier laughs and nuzzles his face on your neck.

"I'll remember not to joke about something like that ever again. I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"

"....are you also sorry for making me watch those really scary movies?"

"Well.... not really...."

They were excellent movies, after all. Aside from the scary parts, he could tell you enjoyed it overall.

"At least you're honest."

A few seconds later, Xavier starts to pepper kisses all over your neck and jaw.

"Do you still need a distraction? I can help you get your mind off of anything scary."

You let out a quiet moan as he softly pushed his hips against yours.

"Just focus on me."

From the moment he got on top of you, you forgot about everything — your silly scheme and the horror movies.

Right now, there's only Xavier.

[umamaki]

cw: lowk red flag caleb lol, virginity loss

Caleb is pissed when you get asked out for the first time. He had deliberately warned everyone in both of your social circles to stay away from you. Not without threats of violence or death, either. So yeah, he’s pissed as fuck when you tell him. Did he have to burn the whole world down merely to keep you all to himself? To protect you from perverts and creeps?

But, unfortunate and naive, you were so damn excited for this date. He couldn’t spoil your mood. Not when you asked him which dress to wear—both of them too short for his liking—and certainly not when you asked him to zip up the back for you.

There was just something about how you looked, all dolled up and cute to see someone who wasn’t him. He can already barely control himself around you; even the thought of another man having access to you like this makes him utterly sick. “It’s just not a good idea. All guys want the same thing.”

“You’re a guy aren’t you, Caleb? So what, are you telling me you’re like that too? Hmm?” He wants to wipe the playful smile off your face. You just think everything’s some fucking game.

“He’s gonna want to kiss you. Touch you. Fuck you. Have you ever been fucked? Huh, pipsqueak?”

He thinks he went too far then, notes the way your eyes widen and lips slightly part. You shake your head, but he already knows. He knows everything about you. So when you ask if he can help you, give you some advice, he knows exactly how he will.

“So naive, let me just show you.” He smashes his lips against yours. The force would’ve sent you falling backwards had he not steadied you with his hand on the small of your back.

“This is how to kiss…” he mutters it into your mouth, not caring that your teeth are hitting each other.

“And this…” he lifts your skirt just enough so that he can pull your panties to the side and slide his fingers along your puffy folds. “This is how it feels to be fingered.”

“Ah—Caleb!” You squeal when he fully plunges his finger in deeper than your own fingers ever could. He adds another, and soon the room is filled with your moans and the lewd squelch of his fingers thrusting in and out of your soaked pussy.

His lips are back on yours, and this time his tongue is shoved inside your mouth, claiming it. He goes faster when he feels your walls clench around him, and lets you grip his biceps while you come around his fingers and leave behind crescent shaped indents on his arms.

He nearly throws you on the bed, eager to yank off your underwear and free himself from his own boxers, wasting no time in aligning his tip to your still sensitive cunt.

“This is how to take it like a good fucking girl.” You try your best to relax, to be so good for him as he buries himself into you. He lets you get used to his size, going slow. Not moving until you practically beg him to, then there’s no going back. He’s brutally snapping his hips against yours and watching your tits bounce through your dress.

“Already gonna come on my cock? You really are inexperienced. Can’t even control yourself. Go on then. Fucking. Come.” With two last jerks of his hips, your climax washes over you and he tries so fucking hard to delay his own orgasm. He begins to pull out but your legs lock him in place. He cums on the spot—still inside you.

“Don’t care that I ruined your dress? How you gonna go on your date now, baby?”

“Hm. Guess I have to cancel,” you say, faux disappointment coating your words.

He pauses. “There was no date.”

“There was no date.” You confirm, wearing that same stupid grin from before. Luckily your schedule is free, because he has a hell of a punishment waiting for you after that.

[torncwpid]

Top Donator

Summary: Johnny is tuned in like always, until the guest moans and he realizes he knows exactly whose cock you’re drooling over

Cw: smut (mdni), voyeurism, sex work (camgirl), masturbation (male), age gap, unprotected sex, fixation/obsession tone, brief ideation of MMF threesome

Word count: 985

Younger!camgirl!reader having a special guest in her live stream, one of the streams where she invites the top donator of the previous month, where the guest is never fully visible to the camera, their face is always just perfectly cut out of the frame even though everything else is kept on full display for the thousands of viewers while they are either being used like a dildo while you fuck yourself dumb or they are fucking into your needy holes like a fuck machine.

This time the special guest was the latter. So incredibly rough yet so obviously caring towards you, something you never experienced before with the other guests — they only ever wanted to use you and that was it, no care or feelings involved. But this guest had no trouble manhandling you into whatever position he wanted you in right before grunting out a “This okay, luvie?”

That wasn't the only difference the viewers could spot between this guest and the previous ones, though — this guest is so much older than you. It was obvious even without seeing his face. His body was enough to give it all away — all solid weight and deliberate movement instead of the frantic show-off energy of the other guests. His hands were larger and rougher, and moved in a way that spoke of age and experience. Above all, the audience could feel it in the way he handled you. Every touch was controlled and full of the kind of authority only a man could have. He held your hips up when your legs gave out from how cock drunk you got, he kissed your spine between thrusts when he took you from the back, he held your jaw and forced you to stare at him when he could tell your focus was going somewhere else. Even through the screen, they all knew this was someone who would ruin you and still make sure you drank water when he was done.

Of course older!Johnny is tuned in for this stream just like he was for all your previous ones. He has never missed a single one since he found you only a month into your camgirl career. It's almost pathetic how he has unknowingly Pavloved himself into being half hard before you even go live. Now he's fisting his cock with the same mix of lust and jealousy he always falls into when he watches you moaning for another man. But this time it's different, it’s not some cocky little shit between your legs, it’s a man, one who’s clearly around Johnny’s age, maybe even a little older. Watching you being fucked by a man like that twists something low in his gut.

He hates it. Hates how much it turns him on, how good you look taking it from this guest. But worse than that, he hates how much he gets off on it. On how hot it is that you're making such pretty noises — that aren't fake like with the others — for someone who looks almost similar to him. It makes him want even more to be the one stretching you open, whispering praises into your hair while thousands of viewers beg for more. All he can do is watch, stroke himself raw to the sound of your needy little noises, and hope that someday if he just donates enough, tips the right way, waits patiently like a good fucking boy, you’ll finally let him be the special guest.

It takes less than five minutes for Johnny to get completely lost in pleasure as he watches this man bounce you on his lap with a tight grip on your waist, changing positions easily just to fuck you from the back while forcing your face down into the frilly pillows (never hard enough to keep the viewers from hearing your blissed out moans and gasps, though).

But it takes Johnny almost the entirety of the stream and two back-to-back orgasms to get out of his haze enough to realize it. He feels his breath catch in his throat and his hands come to a stop as his eyes are suddenly stuck on the arms that hold your body up. His eyes go wide when he stares and confirms that he does know the exact tattoos that cover this guest's arms and chest.

Now he hears the guest moan instead of the vague muffled groans from the start of the stream. And of fucking course the second that voice spills out clearer, cooing something soft and filthy down at you in that familiar brute British drawl, Johnny freezes. Every muscle goes tense, his grip going still at the base of his cock as recognition slams into him like a punch to the stomach.

He can tell the discovery should have pulled him out of the lustful haze he’s been drowning in since the stream started, but he can feel his cock twitch at the sight of his Lt. forcing his favourite — only — camgirl to take his cock down her throat. The camera captures just right the way Simon has your jaw stretched wide, your eyes glassy, your throat bulging with the thick shape of his cock as he slides it deeper.

Johnny should look away, he knows that. But instead, his hips buck up into his fist like they have a mind of their own and his eyes are locked to the screen.

He can’t stop watching and imagining what it must feel like to fuck his cum into your dripping cunt while Simon’s hand fists your hair, with his calm, ruined voice pouring praise and filth into your brain, his cock shoved down your throat like it belongs there. But fuck if he isn’t still stroking himself anyway, cock twitching with every wet choke and every smug little groan his lieutenant lets slip.

Oh, he'll have fun with this information.

Reminder that my asks are always open!

@141ce @g1v3meabreak @scoobywrites690

[rafeovermorals]

overstimulating joel until he cums. again.

content: oral (m receiving), joel is 61 and has a hard time keeping up with his much younger girlfriends sex drive, use of daddy, slight dubcon

a/n: this is how im choosing to cope with this scene, okay? i can’t help that he looks hot as fuck.

joel was too worn out to move.

chest heaving, mouth quivering, all he could do was lay there and watch you take from him.

you were such a greedy lil’ thing, one round was never enough. so eager and needy. always wanting more, like you wouldn’t last a day without his cock.

he kept up with you as best as he could for a man his age, making sure to stay in shape so he that maintained his stamina, but it only got him so far.

it was a guilty reminder— he was old. you were young. nothin’ he could change about that. he already ran through the small supply of viagra he was able to get ahold of weeks ago, which left him at your mercy.

even after a long day of patrol he came home and fucked you every night, just like you wanted. what was left of his energy he thrusted deep into your cunt with his seed to prove it, giving you a kiss on the cheek before pulling out and turning onto his back to go to sleep.

it had been a while since you went down on him. he didn’t have much control on when or how often he got hard, so when he was he used those moments inside of you.

except joel didn’t realize how much you missed him in your mouth, so badly that you needed it.

as he rolled off of you to his side of the bed, you noticed how his cock was flushed— coated with your juices and his cum. he was softening but stayed big, thick in girth with graying hairs at the base.

he didn’t have the chance to recover before you had his cock in your hand, sitting on your knees and holding him straight as you licked the shaft.

“baby… what’re y’doin?” he asked timidly, still attempting to control his breaths from cumming just a minute or two prior. you simply responded with a hum, looking up at him through your lashes as you swirled your tongue— tasting yourself on him.

you placed a kiss on his tip, his cock reacting with a throb that pulsed in your grasp. “alright, that’s enough.” he spoke low, a quavering warning for you to stop— but his tone lacked in confidence.

“let me have this, daddy.” as if he had a choice.

you took him into your mouth, lips curling around his cock as you watched his face twist from the sensation.

fucking hell, you were going to be the death of him.

he clenched his jaw, teeth grinding while he tried to hold himself back— hold you back. he pushed at your head, attempting to shove you with what little control he had left, but you didn’t budge. you only went further, inching his cock deeper down your throat. he was forced into submission.

joel was so sensitive that he whined from the mix of pain and pleasure, the line blurring the more you swallowed him. “i don’t have anythin’ left in me, honey... gave you of it already.” he told you slow, his voice trembling.

you moaned in defiance, mouth stuffed full of his length. you brought a free hand to his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze which made him nearly whimper. you pull away, spit dribbling from the corners of your lip. “can feel that you still got some in here, just gotta get it out, daddy. it’ll feel so much better.”

he clenched his jaw, teeth grinding together as you continued to suck him— bobbing at a teasing speed while you massaged the rest of his length at the same time. he twitched his hips, his body defying his words.

it felt so good that it was hurting him. your throat was beginning to burn due to lack of recent experience, but you were determined for it.

“just couldn’t wait, huh? so cock drunk that y’had to use your old man like this, knowin’ im vulnerable?” you nodded, that familiar ache in your core returning.

he was thinking of all the ways to punish you once you were done— ready to spank you until you cried, maybe edge you if he was feeling mean. he would find a way to make you pay.

joel was determined to give you one more load since you went through all of this to get it. he couldn’t disappoint his girl.

he was so numb that he couldn’t even feel himself getting ready to cum, his eyes glossy and in a state of haze at the sight of you drooling on his thighs.

the warm, soft flesh of your cheeks hollowing in on him brought him to his release, spilling hot, creamy ropes on the pad of your tongue. whenever you thought he was done it didn’t stop— drops still leaking out after you finished.

“better lick me dry honey. since you wanted it so damn bad.”

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

tying alpha!toji down because he can’t keep his filthy knot to himself during your heat.

cw - smut, bondage, a/b/o mechanics, omega!reader, fem!reader, not proofread

“toji, i’m being serious. you’re not touching me until you can learn to pull out,” he didn’t even know why you were complaining. you loved being knotted by him, but apparently, it’s some sort of issue now that you’ve ran out of your birth control pills, and toji absolutely loathes condoms.

he expected you to last maybe half a day during your heat without him bedding and satiating you. you’re historically very needy during heats, and he’s more than willing to placate you over and over again. you’ll surely forget all about that pesky birth control and allow him to take care of you.

he ended up being the one coming to you. it had been a full day of your whines and cries filtering in and out of the bedroom. your scent was intoxicating, causing toji to have a permanent boner straining in his pants.

it was absolute torture, listening to his omega sob from dissatisfaction… especially when he knew that he had everything you needed. you were just so damn stubborn.

you were such a pretty sight to behold: arched up with your head thrown back. your eyes were squeezed shut as dewy tears slid down your cheeks. your body was flushed and trembling as you desperately rubbed your fingers in tight circles around your swollen clit.

“are you gonna quit being stubborn and let me help, princess? or am i going to have to keep hearing you all night?” he asked with a smug smirk, figuring you’d start begging for him right away.

“i-i don’t know. have you learned how to pull out?” even while completely wrecked, you were standing firm in your convictions.

“i don’t know. i haven’t tried yet,” he grinned, prowling closer to you in your nest. he knows that he could pounce on you and take an advantage of your… compromise positioning, but he much prefers when you beg and plead for it.

“ugh— you made me lose it,” you let out the most adorable frustrated growl that toji had ever had the pleasure of hearing, causing him to chuckle at your displeasure.

“you weren’t getting there anyway, doll. let me help ya,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyes cascaded over your body hungrily.

“shut up,” you snap, making him to raise an eyebrow at you. he doesn’t give up his amusement from your sudden attitude. no, he actually finds your bratty side just as endearing to him.

you get up and walk out of the bedroom briefly, letting toji’s confusion and curiosity eat at him until you return to the bedroom with a dining chair.

“sit,” you demand, and toji obeys after ripping his clothes away from his body with an expectant grin on his face.

“oh fuck yeah, you want to take what you need from me?” he asks as you reach into a bedside drawer. he’s assuming that you’re grabbing a bottle of lube even though he can see your glossy slick pooling and seeping from between your thighs. he licks his lips, feeling his mouth water from pure animalistic drive.

when you lean back up with ropes in your hand, his eyebrows furrow in confusion. how are you to ride him while being tied up..? he could easily jostle you around, throw you up and down his cock until your crying and gushing, but he didn’t necessarily know if that was safe to do while you’re bound.

imagine his surprise when you start restraining the ropes around his pretty scarred skin. the rough fabric hugged his muscles perfectly, creating the prettiest harness for him.

“what d’ya think you’re doing, doll? you aren’t that mad at me, are ya?” he asked as he sat still for you, letting you do your thing to him.

once he was fully restrained, he’d struggle against the ropes, letting out small grunts and disappointed groans when the bright red rope only tightens around his muscles, rubbing small burns into his skin that make him growl in displeasure.

your honeyed scent is killing him, absolutely filling the room to the brim with your scent of need. he knows you need him. right? you need toji to fix it for you, but you’ve went ahead and tied him to this damn chair at the foot of your bed.

he didn’t know a lowly omega in heat would be so ruthless when knotting the ropes over his bare abs and biceps. his wrists are even bound together behind the god forsaken chair. worst of all, there’s a band of rope looped over his waist so he can’t buck his hips. the thick braided thread rubs deliciously over his hardening length. only the thin fabric of his boxer briefs are protecting him from rope burn on his most sensitive appendage.

alphas are suppose to remain in control, but he absolutely let you play him like a fool.

all he can do is sit and watch as you crawl back into your nest, settling down on your back with your legs spread for him to gaze at your glistening pussy.

“let this serve as a lesson, toji,” you say to him, slowly bringing your fingers to your pouty lips before sucking on them to coat them in spit.

toji watches closely, studying every move your body makes while you’re on display for him. his jaw clenches, knowing that should be his fingers you’re sucking on.

when you pull them from your mouth with an obscene pop and slowly rub them over your swollen clit, toji immediately pulls hard from the chair. no way in hell is he going to watch you pitifully try to satisfy yourself while he can’t do a damn thing about it.

he’s your mate for crying out loud. his literal existence is tailored to pleasuring and treating you, but you want him to sit and watch as you do a piss poor job at doing his job?

“c’mon doll,” he pants, clenching his jaw as his dark green eyes flutter between staring at your pretty face and pussy. “i was only messin’ with ya. i’ll pull out— promise.”

you ignore him, knowing that he’s saying whatever he can so you’ll release him. you hum as your fingers continue to lightly rub and tease yourself for his viewing.

toji growls and curses. his body is aching for a taste of you. he knows he can bring you more pleasure than what you’re doing right now, but also, his cock is straining so hard against the ropes, it feels like he’s about to burst a blood vessel.

when you slip two fingers into your slick channel, something akin to a whine flees toji’s lips. he’s been reduced to a dog — sitting at the foot of your bed, watching helplessly as you leisurely pump your fingers in and out.

his hips try to buck upwards, and he lets out a strangled groan as the rope rubs up and down his length. it’s the only friction he can get right now.

“tojiii~” you whine, trying to reach the spot with your fingers that he knows all too well.

“i know, baby, i know,” he grunts, still awkwardly rocking his hips to get the smallest amount of friction. “let me out so i can take care of ya. c’mon, let your alpha take care of you,”

that sounds like a perfect idea, you think as you reach back over to the bedside drawer, pulling out a dildo that was completely modeled after toji’s cock — every ridge and vein for when he was gone on overnight hits.

“no,” he growls, seeing the look of mischief on your face. “that’s not—“

his words crumble as soon as he sees you wrap your pretty lips around the tip of the dildo. you’re so fucking stunning like this. he flexes his muscles, trying to break his way out of the chair to get to you.

the chair creaks in protest, and the ropes only grow tighter against his skin. he realizes he’s sweating as he watches you get up on your knees on the bed. your dildo on the mattress, pointed upwards so you can ride it right in front of him.

the look of relief on your face as you slowly stretch yourself out on his fake tip makes him nearly whine. he’s never begged for anything in his life, but he’s close to begging for you to let him out.

he’s completely enamored by the way you’re taking fake him so well. you’ve got tears in your eyes, undoubtedly feeling the slight burn of being filled so full, but he knows you can take it.

his hips move in sync with yours, letting the rope rub against his fat cock as you slowly adjust and bounce on your dildo.

“please—“ he finally grunts in a breathy whisper when you bottom out. he can barely take it anymore, watching you while not being able to touch himself.

“please what?” you taunt in a breathy tone, still slowly dragging your hips up and down along the pretty dildo.

toji doesn’t even know what he’s begging for. he only knows that he needs you carnally. “fucking, brat— you know i need you,”

“mmmph! sounds like you haven’t learned your lesson.”

oh and you look oh so pretty while taking his fake dick. he can’t even pull his eyes away from you. his hips are shakily rutting into the ropes, taking what little friction he can get in stride.

“fuck, toji..” you gasp, causing him to let out a strangled growl. his head tips back, and you take a moment to admire his big beefy body all tied down and sweaty. his pheromones are honestly starting to overpower yours, and it’s dizzying.

he’s basically whimpering, humping the air like a dog as his eyes are glued to how your slick folds are accepting the dildo so well. he can feel just how well you’d take him in this situation. he’d be able to feel every little flutter and clench around his thick cock.

“please,” he tries again. he’s broken for you. never in his life would he think that he would beg for anything, but you’re too sweet of a prize to let his pride ruin. “please doll… let your alpha come take care of you. i’ll… i’ll be good.”

meanwhile, your hips are bouncing up and down aggressively. the dildo modeled after his cock feels so damn good, filling you up entirely and nudging against the spot that makes you see stars, but it’s no where close to the real thing. still, toji’s scent and whimpering is enough to keep you going.

“yeah?” you pant, “you’ll be g-good? how so?”

the chair creaks as toji’s hips are working hard. he’s matching your pace, trying to picture you riding him like that. “i’ll lay down and let you use me.. fuck, you can take what you want from me, doll. i’m yours.. just please…”

the wet sounds of your sliding up and down the girthy rubber dildo along with the chair violently creaking with each pathetic hump toji’s hips make fill the air. he’s completely whimpering now, damn near sobbing about how he’ll be a good boy for his omega. you fear you’ve unlocked something deep inside him.

it’s all too much. your body begins to quiver as your muscles draw taut. you’re so close, and the nagging fear of not being able to finish without toji’s help slithers into your brain.

“god— fuucking dammit,” a strangled growl get your attention, and you look to see toji with his head tilted back. his rutting is messy and losing it’s rhythm. then, you see the wet spot in his boxers.

he came without any touch.

the pathetic sight is enough to throw your right over the edge, sending you into oblivion as you cry out on the dildo. toji’s still pumping his hips like he’s trying to telepathically fuck you through your orgasm.

after a moment, the room falls into a deadly quiet. you look at toji while panting, knowing you have to untie him and some point, and he’s going to give you hell to pay.

@theuniversesnepobaby here’s sub toji that you’ve been wanting

[seungisms]

( skz reaction ) condom or no condom .ᐟ 

🖇️📂 who in skz likes to fuck with or without a condom

genre: smut, minors dni, warnings: unprotected sex, public sex, slight breeding kink with chan cause grrrr, humiliation kink, overstimulation, small size kink with seungmin (his dick is too big for you cause i said so) creampies 🗣️🗣️🗣️ note: got super carried away and this is kinda dog but let’s gooooo

방찬. BANG CHAN

condom. he already has seven other kids he doesn’t need one more. mainly uses them cause he can’t be trusted when he swears he’ll pull out and cum on your stomach or tits instead. the faster his orgasm is to approaching the less he’s able to think about what he’s actually doing, every single coherent voice inside of him screaming for him to pull out is ignored as his cock fucks into you deep and sloppy - the promise of finally filling you up until his cum is spilling out past your little hole just makes it far too appealing to stay buried inside of your tight pussy, determined to leave you a sticky used mess once he’s done. hates himself for it but his breeding kink is dangerous, this man has to battle himself everyday to not fuck you until you’re full and pregnant, so convincing him to ditch the condoms will take some work. beg cutely enough and he’ll give in. swears he’s only doing it to shut you up but the second he sinks his bare cock into you he’s losing every lousy ounce of self-control he might’ve had, mouth drying up and eyes trained on the way your cunt struggles to take him. and he can feel every single nook and cranny of your plush cunt in ways the condom just doesn’t allow and he just can’t find it in himself to rid himself of the pleasure of finally filling you up the way you so desperately crave.  he can normally hold his orgasm out for a few good rounds, ensuring you’re completely fucked out when he finally does cum - but the first time you go without protection he’s busting inside of you within minutes. always buys you the morning after pill though and apologises for cumming inside of you, trying to ignore how good it felt to fuck your pretty pussy with no barrier.

리노. LEE MINHO 

no condom. when he cums, he cums hard. so wearing a condom just makes no sense to him and he’ll just end up ripping it off mid fuck, filling you up over and over until it’s leaking out of you, cussing under his breath that he should’ve fucked that stupid thought out of you for even suggesting to wear one in the first place. prefers having you on some type of brith control instead cause with the amount of cum this guys feeds into your pussy a condom isn’t gonna do shit. he’ll wear them when you first start dating just cause he wants to make sure you feel safe and comfortable with him but the second he catches wind you like it RAW?? he’s taking a lighter to every single condom he’s ever owned, in the trash, never to be seen again. and anytime you try to suggest using them again he’ll act so fucking offended, knowing fine rightly how much you love receiving the loads of cum he gives your greedy little pussy to even humour the idea. far too addicted to the feeling of filling you up over and over until your pussy is left all creamy and sticky and you’re crying that you can’t take anymore to ever think about going back, especially not when he’s felt the addicting press of your cunt smothering his dick and milking him for all he’s got, he couldn’t even fathom the thought of wearing them again.

창빈. SEO CHANGBIN

both. he’ll always try to remember one but gets such a bad case of pussy tunnel vision that most of the time he’ll forget about the stash he keeps in his bedside drawer. tries to keep one on him cause the amount of times you’ve found yourself getting fucked in some random empty supply cupboard or bent over his studio desk have been too many to count cause this man can’t keep his dick in his pants for the life of him, only realising he doesn’t have one when it’s far too late and he’s already painted your pretty pussy sticky with his cum. he’s far too impatient and just can’t ignore the feeling of needing to get his dick wet no matter how hard he tries, somehow always manages to convince you to let him fuck you raw when he doesn’t have a condom, swearing he’ll pull out but he wasn’t prepared for how much he’d love filling your little cunt up again and again until you just can’t take anymore of him. hates the part of him that gets off on seeing you stained and dripping in cum, and might even start telling you he ‘forgot’ to buy more while he was at the store - just to have the sight of your cute cunt all used and spilling over marked into his brain. 

현진. HWANG HYUNJIN

no condom. nothing gets him off like fucking you with no condom. he loves the risk of it all and the fact that he can turn you into a pretty mess with just a few pumps of his dick. loves fucking you raw so much that he’ll have videos saved on his phone of his cock stretching you out - soft praises of, ‘taking me so well angel,’ hardly audible over the sloppy sounds of his cock pumping into your pussy. needs to be as close to you as humanly possible so wrapping a piece of rubber around his dick to devoid himself of the heavenly feeling of your cunt suffocating around him just makes no sense. completely loses himself in the heat of your pussy, locks his jaw and rests his forehead on your shoulder when he’s fucking into you - just so he doesn’t lose all sense of sanity just from the mere feeling of your cunt milking him for all he’s got, and he’s prepared to give you it all. in the early stages of your relationship he’ll try to at least pull out for your sake, but the more he did the more he noticed your thighs locking around his hips to keep his dick firmly planted inside of you, forcing him to empty his loads into your greedy cunt and he just has to thank whatever god there is out there for blessing him with a girl that’s as eager for his cum much as you are. 

한. HAN JISUNG

condom but he forgets half the time. jisung gets so pussy drunk so quickly that protection will be the last thing on his mind, especially when he gets the chance to finally bury himself deep into his favourite place - your pussy. he likes the idea of being safe and protected but his hunger for your pretty little cunt to be wrapped around his cock any chance he can get just stands in the way of actually doing so. it’ll get to the point where you’ll have to carry them instead cause this man is prepared to fuck you nearly everywhere you go, doesn’t matter if you’re in public or not, he’s gonna beg to have your sweet walls wrapping around him near daily. if you actually do make him wear them it won’t last for long, he’ll whine and beg and near damn cry cause it’s just not the same :( and you have him so pussy spoiled that he might actually get blue balled all thanks to the rubber separating you both, might even pull out and take it off just when he’s fucked you dumb enough that you won’t notice, slipping back in and near sobbing the second your pussy swallows him up again, every raw twitch and spasm making his dick swell up even more. likes making a mess of you far too much to commit to condoms so they’ll become an increasingly rare occurrence in your relationship. 

필릭스. LEE FELIX 

condom. as much as he wants to he’s just far too paranoid about accidentally knocking you up to actually fuck you raw. also likes knowing you feel comfortable during sex and as appealing as thought of making your pussy all creamy with his cum is, he’d be a worried mess afterwards. makes sure he always has one in his wallet, cause with the amount you beg this man for his dick he’d rather be safe than sorry. even when you’re being all needy and he’s teased you to a state of being completely fucked out, whining about how much you need him to fuck you when the heavy weight of his cock bumping against your clit just isn’t enough - he’ll still find the will to ignore the painful swell of his dick to pull away and go grab a condom, chuckling and kissing away the cute pout of disappointment that sits on your lips when your hope of having him fuck you raw was once again shattered. tells you to stop being so goddamn ungrateful and take what he gives you :( with or without a condom this man KNOWS how to work his dick so he’ll fuck you stupid no matter what. the further you get into your relationship the more willing he’d be to finally ditch the condoms, but the second he slips into you with no rubber for the first time is the second he loses every ounce of control - fucking into you like an animal and suddenly your sweet, doting felix is gone and is now fucking you deeper and harder than he ever has before, wondering how he’s went all this time without the feeling of fucking you raw. 

승민. KIM SEUNGMIN 

no condom. this man will laugh straight in your face if you ever try to make him wear one. he knows fine rightly how greedy you are for his cum so he won’t take you seriously at all, fully arguing that a pussy as cute as yours shouldn’t be left all empty and sad without a cock in it and would look much, much prettier if it was dripping in cum. and he’s more than happy to be the one covering your little cunt in it. anytime you try to suggest using a condom he’ll make sure you regret it, forcing you to sit on his dick and fuck yourself over and over until that stupid thought was completely rid out of your pretty little head - pumping load after load into your pussy until it’s left all messy and sticky and begging for a break. loves reminding you how much you’d miss the feeling of his cock filling you up if he actually used one and deep down you hate that he’s right. sometimes he gets a little carried away cause the sight of you covered in his cum just goes straight to his dick, likes fucking you in public and making you walk around after with his cum dribbling down your thighs, knowing if you bent over just a little everyone around would get an eyeful of your cute ass painted in it peaking out from under your tiny skirt. and he’ll just have to fuck another load into you later that night from the thought alone. his cock is too big for you, and he gets such a nasty kick out of this fact, watching the way his cum from earlier that day trickles out of your pussy when he’s fucking you - only for him to push it back in with his cock and force you to take even more of it. loves seeing his cum drip to of your used cunt when he’s done and no amount of condoms is gonna take that away from him. 

아이엔. YANG JEONGIN

condom, but he’s easily persuaded to ditch it. jeongin is just there for a good time and as long as he gets his dick wet he doesn’t really care. he’ll always have one in his wallet just in case but the second he gets a taste of your pretty pussy he’s only able to think with his cock and completely forgets the concept of protection. this man needs you almost every hour of the day and most of the of the time wrapping a condom on his dick is the last thing on his mind, he’d much rather it be your pussy instead. can’t think straight when he’s turned on and the only fix is you. you’ll literally have to pry him off you when he’s this eager, lips chasing after you with a small whine of protest when you pull away from him in the backseat of the company car he’s somehow managed to squeeze you into after the rest of the boys and managers were busy setting up for rehearsal, trying to get him to focus long enough to grab a condom but he’s just too busy rubbing the fat head of his cock into your cunt. he’ll be so pouty when you stop him again, ‘forgetting something jeongin?’ and he’s just like, ‘uhhh, no? i remembered to turn my computer off this time,’ and just gets right back into trying to stick his dick into you finally. only realises he forgot a condom when he’s already fucked a load into you, letting out a small sigh of relief once he pulls his softening cock from your used pussy, watching the way his cum follows and dribbles out past your folds. but he can’t find it in himself to care cause you’ve never looked prettier. always helps you clean up after though :( 

© seungisms - all rights reserved. reposting/modification of any kind is not tolerated. 

[whenstarsundress]

caleb isn’t the type of alpha who demands. he asks. soft voice, patient hands, eyes that never leave yours. but his scent? it wraps around you like velvet, thick and grounding, impossible to ignore.

deeply controlled rut cycles. he’s trained to suppress them with medication if needed, but that doesn’t mean the instincts disappear. when he’s around you during your heat, he gets quiet, still, too focused.

“do you need me?” he asks, knuckles brushing your wrist. “you don’t have to say yes. just nod.” you do. every time.

he’s a nurturer at heart. loves scenting you before bed, especially when you’re anxious. presses his face into your neck and murmurs things like:

“i’m here.”

“you’re safe with me.”

“let me carry it for you.”

but there’s possession under that gentleness. he doesn’t want to own you. he wants to devote himself to you, body and soul.

during your heat, he’s focused on your comfort first. pain meds, soft blankets, heated scentscapes, and then, if you want him, he’ll ruin you slowly.

so gentle at first. fingers between your thighs, soft kisses along your scent gland. “tell me if it’s too much,” he says, even as his knot starts to swell.

and when you whimper for him? the control frays. “omega,” he groans, voice breaking. “you feel so—fuck, you’re perfect. you were made for me.”

knots you with careful reverence. murmurs praise as you tremble beneath him. cleans you up gently afterward.

very quiet aftercare. strokes your hair. kisses your forehead. laces your fingers together and holds you tight until you fall asleep knotted to him, safe and claimed.

he doesn’t see rut or heat as shameful. he sees them as intimate and sacred. the most vulnerable, instinctive parts of you being entrusted to him.

and he never, ever forgets what a gift that is.

his first rut with you:

caleb thought he could handle it. he’d prepared, like he always does. meditated, dosed early, made contingency plans. but he didn’t account for you.

your scent was everywhere in his space, lingering on his bed, his clothes, in the air. it curled around his thoughts like smoke, like static.

he didn’t even realize he was going into rut until it was too late. the meds failed. his body burned, his skin itched, and his thoughts all narrowed down to you.

“you shouldn’t be here,” he said when you stepped into the room. but his pupils were already blown, voice thick with strain, jaw locked like he was holding himself back from lunging.

you whispered, “i want to stay.”

he broke.

the moment you moved toward him, caleb caught you in his arms and buried his face in your neck with a low, aching growl. he inhaled like your scent could save him. like he’d die without it.

“omega,” he rasped, voice full of awe and desperation. “you’re really here. you want me?”

the rut took hold then, hot and primal, but even while trembling with need, he was still caleb.

so gentle. so reverent. stripping you slowly, kissing every inch of skin like he was memorizing you. letting you climb into his lap and guide his hands with little whimpers and needy sighs.

“let me take care of you,” he begged, lips trembling against your mating gland. “please. i’ll be good. i’ll make it good for you.”

and god, he did.

every thrust came with soft gasps and low growls, your name whispered over and over like a prayer. he held you tight as his knot swelled, moaning your name like it was the only word he remembered.

“gonna fill you up,” he gasped. “mark you. keep you safe. no one else can have you. not now. not ever.”

but then you cupped his cheek. and his voice softened again. “does it hurt?” he asked, eyes full of worry even as you pulsed around his knot. “i don’t want to hurt you.”

you shook your head, smiling through the haze. “you feel perfect.”

and caleb, sweet, kind alpha caleb, broke down. kissed you like it meant everything. like you were the only thing anchoring him through the heat.

when you both finally stilled, tied together and drenched in heat-slick and love, he held you against his chest and whispered, “thank you for trusting me.”

his voice was hoarse, cracked, shaking. “i’ll never forget it.”