#but the stain remains no matter what you do

[prettycalla]

|| adversus ||

Pairing: Caracalla/Reader

Summary: Caracalla discovers that you bleed. He is fascinated by it.

Word count: 799

Tags and warnings: Light smut, reader has a period, Caracalla is a little freak about it (big surprise) but it's all consensual, reader and Caracalla are soft for each other, no use of Y/N. 18+!! Minors, please do not interact!!

(This GIF (the whole scene, really) is to blame for me writing this and I'm not apologising for it. I could have gotten a Lot nastier with this, honestly, but I'm always so embarrassed writing smut, so here we are!)

Caracalla understands the importance of rules and tradition, but he does not see why he, as the Emperor of Rome, should have to adhere to any of it if he does not wish to. He flourishes in chaos, relishes in doing the opposite of what is expected of him.

It is no great secret that he carries a fascination for blood. It is something you are very aware of, and as a result, have done everything in your power to keep this one little thing as far from his eyes as you are able.

It is only a matter of time before he finds out.

You awaken one morning to find the sheets stained with blood. Fear takes hold of you. You must have miscalculated the days. Caracalla is still asleep by your side, and you desperately pray to Somnus that he will remain so until you are able to hide the evidence of what has happened.

The Fates are against you as Caracalla stirs, reaching for you even as he is between waking and dreaming.

"Come back to me," he mumbles drowsily, his sleep-warm fingers grasping at your wrist.

"I will return in a moment, I promise," you say, trying to pry yourself from his surprisingly strong grasp.

Caracalla moves to sit up, rubbing at his face with his free hand.

"You will-" he begins to say, when he falters.

His eyes widen as he sees the blood, tracing its path to your skin.

"You are bleeding," he says, his voice a mixture of concern and something else.

Something darker.

"It is nothing to concern yourself with," you tell him as he moves closer to you. "It is my mensis. It happens at the turn of the moon."

Caracalla does not answer, instead reaching out to trail his fingers across your thigh. Something in you wishes to stop him, but something else - something far stronger - wishes to urge him on.

He looks at the blood on his fingertips, his lips parted and pupils dilated.

"So much, and yet still you live?" he asks, his voice rough with arousal.

He looks up at you, his eyes narrowing. It is a look you know all too well. The very same one he always has in the midst of the gladiatorial games. The same one he has levelled on you, time and time again.

Lust.

"Does it hurt?" he asks as he leans closer to you.

"It will pass," you tell him. "As it always does."

You can feel his breath, shallow and warm, against your skin. You should feel embarrassment, or shame perhaps, but right now, all you can feel is the desire emanating from Caracalla in waves.

It is overwhelming. You do not wish for it to stop.

"You can help me," you tell him softly, surprised at the boldness of your words.

Caracalla suddenly looks ravenous.

"Show me what I must do," he replies in a rushed breath.

How you adore him like this. So ardent, so eager to please.

You take his hand and slowly drag it up along your thighs. He keeps your gaze the entire time, teeth worrying at his bottom lip until his fingers press against you, exactly where you need them.

A soft sigh escapes you at his touch. Encouraged, he keeps it up, finding the rhythm he knows you like best. Quick little gasps escape you as you begin to unravel. He should not be as good at this as he is.

You reach up to the back of his neck, pulling him into a bruising kiss. He is not to be deterred from what he has started, his fingers quickening their pace as his teeth nip at your lower lip.

You cannot last at this pace, and you tell him as much in a shaky breath.

"Let me see you fall apart," he murmurs against your lips. "Please."

The urgency in his touch and the desperation in his voice are too much for you all at once, and you feel yourself tip over the edge at last, wave after wave of pleasure thrumming through you.

Only when you push him away does Caracalla finally stop, his hand coming to rest once more on your thigh.

"Pulchra," Caracalla says softly with a wide smile that has your pulse stuttering more than it already is.

Your rest your forehead against his for a moment, before the discomfort begins to build once more.

"I must clean myself up," you tell him reluctantly.

Caracalla presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. "The baths," he replies. "I will accompany you."

You know exactly what allowing him to do so will lead to, but you do not mind in the slightest.

Caracalla finds himself impatiently awaiting the next turn of the moon from then on.

(banners by @ cafekitsune)

[babycakebo]

habits die hard / gojo fic

*ೃ༄

inf : fulfilling one of my very first reqs! gojo angst, like heart-wrenching (I hope?), some very subtle implied smut but not written, gojo loves his ex. geto is his ex. enjoy! — taglist : @smutty-littleslut, @sarcasticintrovertedsoul, @monacipher, @thesunxwentblack, @hel1nn love you all sm 🤍

With every guy you’ve dated, you’ve never gone back to them after a breakup. 

Exes are exes after all, aren’t they?

So why can’t Satoru stay away from his? 

What is it about Suguru Geto that makes your boyfriend go back to him, even though every time it ends in tears?

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──———── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

Your head has spun so many times about these same questions. It’s irrevocably confusing to you.

This is what you are thinking about as you sit on the bed of your shared bedroom in the apartment that Satoru bought for you. He loves you so much that he bought you an apartment (doesn’t he?). 

You have his phone in your hands, knuckles pale from how hard youre gripping it, messaging app open to his DMs with Suguru. Satoru has always trusted you with the password to his phone, his username for his socials.

It’s like he’s been practically begging you to look through his texts with Geto. Begging you to see that no matter what, he can’t stop going back. 

But you have faith. And you believe in second chances. 

And third chances, and fourth ones.

But blind faith doesn’t keep your hands from shaking as you read —

sugu : im on a mission in Tokyo. ill come see u in 2 days, toru. 

toru : alr, sounds fine. canceled date w gf that day.

And then, the texts from yesterday. The day you’d supposed to have that dinner date you two had talked about for a week straight. Hadn’t he been so excited for it?

sugu : r u here yet Satoru?

toru : gf gave me shit ab leaving. b there in five sugu. love u. 

Gave him shit? Well duh, you’re his girlfriend (aren’t you?)!

You have half a mind to confront him. Beg him to stop. 

This has been the third time you’ve caught Satoru meeting up with Suguru. And yet, when you confront him, Satoru always seems so remorseful, so sorry. 

This time, you won’t confront him. But you’ll act different, you tell yourself. 

Maybe if you act like Suguru, it will change Satoru’s mind.

And so now for three weeks you don black clothes over your normally pastel colored wardrobe. You wear your hair half up half down, you try your best to remain nonchalant like Geto even though it itches at you, staying silent about how exciting your day was. 

And shockingly enough to you, your behavior flies over Satoru’s head like an odd smell. It’s like he doesn’t even notice. 

When you give him dry responses over dinner, he responds back just as glumly. Doesn’t even care. 

But besides not noticing your Suguru-like behavior, hes just normal Satoru. 

He still cuddles you during movie night, still laughs that same loud cackle. He still strokes the back of your neck if you look stressed over your work. Still kisses you in the shower (when he cares enough to join you). 

You notice that hes stopped initiating intimacy, stopped cooking chocolate-chip-and-blueberry pancakes on sundays. Claims he has too much work to do. Forgot the recipe. 

And one day, he slips out. 

Doesn’t think you’d notice. Going shopping for a new watch, he says. 

But you’d  bought the watch he wears now. The one that has been sitting on his nightstand, collecting dust for a week.

You don’t even bother to check his phone; you already know what he’s up to. Don’t even need to ask. 

When he gets back, it’s two in the morning, the lights are off. 

He tries to close the door as quietly as he can. You are sitting on the couch, tear stained cheeks, solemn face and all. 

“Hey,” he plays it off. “Met an old friend on the way back home. We drank a bit. Something wrong?”

Old friend. 

The way he just says it so casually, reminds you of that phrase, Old habits die hard. Maybe that’s how it is with Suguru. 

“You promised you’d stop seeing Suguru. You promised you would cut him off for good.” Your voice quivers. Because you know what you have to do, know that faith you have has lead you nowhere. 

“It — it wasn’t Suguru. You know i love you,” Satoru tries, but no lie will work. 

Because you have made up your mind. 

“I can’t do it anymore, Satoru,” you say. “I can’t stand here anymore and pretend like you cheating on me doesn’t break my heart. Like it doesn’t tear me in two.”

“I don’t . . .” Satoru shakes his head. Gives up on lying. “He was my first love. You understand that, don’t you?” He gives you a hopeful look. Like you’ll love him still for that pathetic excuse.

Your fists clench. “No, I don’t. You were my first love.” Your voice gets louder, your tone stiff. “You promised, Satoru.”

He raises his hands like you’re arresting him. “Alright, alright, my love. This is the last time. For real. Plus, the watch he got me isn’t as nice as the one you got.” He smiles cheekily.

Does he think this is a joke?

That one wisecrack will have you falling back in his arms?

“I don’t think you understand,” you say slowly. “I want to break up with you, Satoru.” You can see the puzzle pieces come together, connect the dots behind his azure eyes. Shaking his head no. Can’t be true.

“I. . .” He falters. At a loss for words. “No, but you know that I love you. You know I do,” he repeats. Maybe he’s convincing himself.

“The only reason you love me is so you have somebody to come crawling back to when Suguru breaks your heart for the ten gazillionth time,” you snap. You didn’t mean to get angry.

But when he said You know I love you, anger forced itself upon you. Because you knew the truth of it all.

“You don’t love me anymore? You won’t fight for us?” Satoru says, voice sad. Like he wanted you to fight for love that doesn’t even exist.

“No, Satoru.” You tell him. “I don’t love you at all.”

And it only satisfies you all the more when you’re the one who gets to roll his luggage to his freshly washed white lexus, him standing with the saddest blue eyes you’ve ever seen and arms limp at his sides.

You know that he recognizes what he’s lost. And you don’t care.

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──———── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮

a/n : soo idk if this was good angst, but here you guys go! also, here’s gojo’s chocolate-chip-blueberry pancake recipe ! hope you all sick and twisted angst-enjoying individuals enjoyed it 🤍 (jp i love angst too)

[jagged1]

My Love Language is Violence (But For You I’ll Try Being Soft)

Fandom: Teen Wolf Rating: Gen Characters: pre - Peter Hale / Stiles Stilinski (but you can ignore that if you want), mentions of Derek Hale Summary: Peter has only ever known how to be a good Left Hand. Contains: non-descriptive mentions of violence Word Count: ~900 AO3 Link

The first thing Peter learns is that everything is for the pack.

The second thing Peter learns is that everyone has a role within the pack.

The third thing Peter learns is that his role is ‘special’ but no less important than everyone else’s.

It isn’t until much later that he learns what special really means to the pack and for himself. By then, it’s far too late for him to care.

-

Aunt Emmeline is the pack's enforcer and Left Hand. Peter thinks she's the best and can't wait to grow up to be like her, so strong and smooth enough that even grandpa alpha has to listen to her. Peter's so much younger than everyone else that it's hard for him to be listened to sometimes and it's so annoying.

Emmeline also smiles at him when he sneaks after her to important pack things. She always catches him and sends him home with someone else, but she praises him for trying. While everyone else sighs at him, she tells him “good job” and how to do it better next time, and it makes him feel so proud. He’s going to be the best Left Hand; it’s only right to do everything he can for the people he loves the most.

-

When she finally considers Peter old enough, she starts training him in earnest. He learns control and basic fighting techniques in the morning, politics and etiquette with Talia in the afternoon, but the evenings are all under Emmeline’s watchful eye.

She eases him into it, testing his limits and expanding them slowly, but eventually Peter graduates to the tough part. She drives him to push through his limits, to keep fighting and fighting for an answer, a way out, a solution, no matter how hard it is. She makes him study everything, makes him learn how to find the answers to questions himself, with barely a nudge in the right direction. She teaches him that there will be hard decisions and he needs to be the one to push for them. It’s Talia’s job to decide, but it’s Peter’s to make her understand and to follow through on whatever that is.

They go hunting for the pack’s food. She teaches him the best ways to take prey down, how to tire them, how to trap them, how to make it quick, and how to make it slow. When he kills them, she teaches him how to dress them and what to do with the remains.

Then they go hunting for the pack’s enemies. Using everything he learned is harder, but also not. They still run and hide and fight. They still get tired and panic and fall for tricks. He can still make them move the way he wants them to. They still bleed and struggle. They still cling to life and give up. They still come apart under his claws and teeth. They still need to be dealt with.

When he takes out a threat on his own and his eyes flash blue for the first time, Emmeline smiles and gifts him the triskele pendant she always wears around her neck.

He’s never felt prouder in his life.

-

He gives everything for the pack and never worries about how some of them get nervous around him. Emmeline says some people will never understand and that’s okay, because they know how important they are to the pack’s happiness. All Peter wants, has ever wanted, is for his pack to be happy. He’ll do everything he can, any way he can, to make that happen.

-

After a long life, Emmeline dies peacefully in her sleep and Peter officially inherits the title of Left Hand. He’s on his own now.

Too bad Emmeline never taught him how to be gentle.

-

Derek cries and cries, blood stained into his skin, blue eyes shining brightly in the darkness of the cellar and Peter feels sick to his stomach. This isn’t right. This isn’t what was supposed to happen.

His wolf howls in his chest, but for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t know what to do.

-

He shoves Cora out of the window and leaves Talia to comfort the rest of the pack while he struggles against the barrier, clawing the walls, the ground, even the air itself in desperation. He won’t stop fighting, he can’t stop fighting; he’ll die before he gives up.

-

Foreign alpha.

Territory in danger.

Fight.

Fight.

Fight.

-

Laura.

-

Fucking Argents.

-

Stiles wavers in his grasp, but he pulls away and Peter lets him go. He’s learned he can’t make the ones he cares for do what he wants, not like that. He won’t make the same mistake again.

-

He can smell Derek’s determination and he doesn’t fight it. A life for a life is something he understands better than anyone else.

-

Peter aches to follow the stench of Gerard Argent and end the threat now, to make sure his pack is safe. His claws itch under his skin and it would be so easy to let them out.

But Stiles is alone in the warehouse.

He growls, struggling with himself before deciding that weakened enemy is below weakened pack and goes to the teen, keeping his claws to himself.

He’ll do better this time.

@kymera219 's post lives rent free in my head so the fic had to be written.

[isawhitney]

Well, what is it like?

I am reading a book. and the man who has written that book has raped me. or a girl like me and the pages are cream still, not red and sticky round the edges. just cream. they rustle cream round the edges when I turn them and laugh. at this joke he’s made on chapter twenty three. and while I laugh a girl is raped. or I am, laughing, raped. my throat is sore with it. and for all that the joke is a good one and I cannot help but laugh. with him? I am the girl, raped, laughing. I am the voyeur, stooping to catch her half-drunk cries and pickle them in laughter. laughing, I pin her down myself. as I pin pages, folding back these Rohypnoled pages, laughing all the while. I am reading with my teeth.

[s0dium]

𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑!!!

𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d find out that your crush, Geto Suguru, was just like you: a murderer. Not only that but you share the same passion; killing criminals and pedophiles! (Happy Kinktober) 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: DARK CONTENT, gore, mutilation, murder, mentions of pedophiles (y/n kills them), serial killing, unprotected sex, breeding, choking, teasing, knife play, whipped Suguru 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k 𝐀/𝐧: This is based HEAVILY on the novel Butcher and Blackbird by Brynne Weaver. The original idea is credited to Brynne Weaver ONLY. This work is fan fiction and is not intended for commercial purposes or to infringe on the intellectual property rights of the original author.

Being a serial killer who kills other killers, pedophiles, and rapists is a great hobby.

Until you find yourself locked in a cage.

For three days.

No AC.

With a body you carved up.

You glare at the fly-riddled corpse whose legs are kneeling opposite of you in the locked cage you were both trapped in. The air is thick with the putrid stench of decay, a relentless assault on your senses. The body's skin is pallid, marred by the writhing mass of white maggots that feast mercilessly. Where eyes once held gaze, now only hollow sockets remain, tediously scooped out and vacant. The ears too have been sheared off, leaving clean edges that blend into the mottled, blood-stained flesh. Its chest has been cracked open; ribs pried apart in a macabre mimicry of an unhinged broken cocoon, revealing the dark, empty cavity where a heart once beat.

Then, of course, the piste de resistance of your work, the removed eyes, ears, and heart rest in the corpse's upturned palms—placed with ceremonial care amidst the chaos of mutilation.

So now, if anyone were to walk down the steps of Gary Green House's basement, they would not only find his mutilated body, but the person who did it, trapped in a cage together.

"Fuck." You curse at yourself for the millionth time since you've been trapped here for the last three days. The cold realization that you've fallen into Gary’s final trap gnaws at your mind as relentlessly as the maggots at the corpse across from you. The cage, a cruel relic of Gary’s twisted pleasures, had seemed the perfect place for your ritual—turning the hunter into the hunted in his own den of horrors. But in your fervor to see him pay, you overlooked one crucial detail: the cage's sinister design, which sealed shut the moment its door swung closed.

The remote control, now a mocking symbol of freedom, lies just beyond the bars, on a small, grimy table. You remember the sickening click of the lock, the finality of it echoing in the cramped space as you turned back from the grisly task of dismembering Gary—his last, silent victory.

Even the idiot police could deduce that this was all your doing, seeing as all your bloody tools were still with you in your backpack. With fingerprints. It was just a matter of time before they opened the basement door.

You could practically hear Gary’s voice from beyond the grave: "Hah! Serves you right, you stupid bitch! That's what you get for killing me!" The taunt echoes in your head like a song over and over again and you're seriously contemplating banging your head against the iron bars.

"FUCK FINE!" You yell into the darkness. "I renounce my wicked ways!"

"That's a shame. I bet I would like your wicked ways."

You jump at the sound of a man's deep, smooth voice, the cadence of slight raspiness warming every note. Your curses cut the humid air from the startlement of the man's presence. How the hell did he even get in here? You didn't hear the basement door open. You scurry out of reach of the man who saunters into the thin thread of light from the narrow window, the glass opaque with fly shit.

"You seem to be in a predicament." He says stepping into view. The thin light from the window partially illuminates him, allowing you to make out his face. Oh rather, what is on his face.

Holy shit.

A ghost mask stares back at you, its hollow eyes and elongated mouth frozen in a chilling scream. The stark white of the mask contrasts sharply with the surrounding shadows, and you watch with wide eyes as he tilts his head.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

In any other situation, you might be fan-girling. You know exactly who you're staring at: the infamous Crucifer, a killer, like you, but notorious for his crucifixion of criminals in rather, flamboyant displays. The few eyewitness accounts of the Crucifer all mention the ghost mask, leaving no doubt in your mind about his identity.

While your hunting grounds have been Osaka, his have typically been Tokyo, but despite the geographical difference, his reputation precedes him. In all honesty, you shouldn’t be surprised he’s here. Your victim, Gary Greenwich, is notorious even among the authorities. Despite his crimes, the lack of solid evidence has always allowed him to slip through the cracks of the justice system, leaving him free to continue his heinous activities. He was high on your kill list, and it’s no surprise he was high on Crucifers as well.

He takes a few steps closer toward the cage to stare down at the corpse, bending to take a closer look.

"Well what happened here?" He chuckles.

You are on day three of no food. No water. The gnawing hunger in your stomach feels like a relentless beast, clawing at your insides with increasing ferocity. You wonder if your body has started to eat its own organs at this point.

You can't deal with this shit.

"Self defense." You say.

The man chuckles. "I doubt that, you're not his type." Despite his mask you can feel his eyes shift from the corpse to linger on you.

"And how would you know that?"

"Well disregarding the state in which you "self defense" left him, you're not a 6 year old boy. And," he steps closer so now he is inches away from the bars and his whole body is illuminated. "I make it my business to know."

You don't answer. Instead you watch as he crouches down to meet your gaze. You try to hide behind your tangled hair and folded limbs, giving him only your eyes.

And of course, just your luck, he is stunning

Black hair flows behind his mask and down his shoulder. He's wearing a black compression shirt that hugs every muscle of his biceps and forearms, accentuating his athletic build. His broad shoulders enhance his imposing presence, giving him the aura of a seasoned athlete. Black cargo pants complete his ensemble, practical and intimidating, with a hunting knife sticking out of his pocket, probably what he would've used on Gary if you hadn't got to him first.

Something about him looks familiar, something you can't put your finger on.

"I guess you made it your business to know too." He pauses before moving even closer so his mask is practically pressed against the iron bars. "Hey, you look pretty familiar."

You shift uncomfortably, feeling the prickle of anxiety creeping up your spine. Instinctively, you brush a tangled lock of hair from your face, wincing as it catches on your dry lips. The man's shoulders tense as if he has been electrocuted.

"Y/n?" His voice cuts through the thick silence like a knife.

Oh, what the hell.

You jerk your head up from your hunched posture, eyes wide in shock, meeting the unsettling, hollow eyes of the ghost mask. Your heart races, pounding loudly in your chest.

"Wha-"

"Oh my god, it is you!" He exclaims, his loud deep voice echoing through the basement.

"I'm sorry, I don't-" you stammer, confusion and fear knotting in your stomach.

"It's me," he interrupts, and with a swift motion, he takes off his mask. The sight of his familiar face makes your breath catch in your throat. "Suguru Geto."

Suguru Geto. The name alone sent ripples through your thoughts, dragging along memories and emotions you had long buried. Suguru wasn’t just any ordinary guy; he was a micro-celebrity in Tokyo, renowned for his breathtaking tattoo artistry. His ink adorned the bodies of celebrities, flaunted in TikToks and Instagram posts that garnered thousands of likes. His reputation was impeccable, his designs sought after by the elite.

You had crossed paths with Suguru a few times at various parties, your social circles occasionally overlapping due to mutual friends. Each encounter left an indelible mark on you. His presence was magnetic, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. It wasn’t just his talent that made him irresistible; it was everything about him. Those hawk-like eyes that seemed to pierce through to your very soul, the perfect curve of his lips that could shift from a smirk to a genuine smile in an instant, and those dimples that appeared whenever he graced you with that smile—each feature was a weapon, effortlessly disarming.

You, like many other girls, harbored a secret crush on Suguru Geto. It was impossible not to. That face alone could kill, and his charisma was the final blow.

And now, here he was, standing right in front of you, unmasked and undeniably real. The reality of it all hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and a little overwhelmed.

Suguru clears his throat, a small smirk playing on his lips from how obviously you are gawking at him.

"Shot in the dark here but are you the Mute Collector?"

You part your lips to say something but you can't seem to form the right words.

"I-"

Suguru's grin widens and a sharp laugh escapes his perfect mouth. "Oh my god. I knew it. I fucking knew they had it wrong about you with that bull shit profile they built. What was it, they said you were a 30 year old white man?" Suguru throws his head back and smiles at the ceiling. "And the Mute Collector? You? That's just awesome. I'm such a huge fan."

"Yeah..." You clear your throat and push your hair completely out of your face. He grins at you, as though awe struck, and if you weren't wearing 100 layers of grime on your skin you are sure he'd be able to see the blush flaming in your cheeks for a second.

"And you?" You nod toward the mask. "You are?" You don't know why you are feigning ignorance but something about humbling him seems tastier than actual food right now.

"Oh come on." Suguru's tone flattens and he brings the mask up next to his face.

"The Crucifer?"

You shake your head.

"The cross maker?"

You shake your head again. Lying through your teeth is fun.

"The Tokyo Butcher?" When you shake your head he sighs and stands up. "Well," he glances to Gary whose maggots have made their way to the empty eye sockets. "What do you say? We ditch this lousy scene and get something to eat. Maybe when you get food in your stomach you will remember some of my little nicknames."

Your eyes widen and your stomach growls loudly, reminding you of how long it's been since you last ate. You glance up at your Suguru, a mix of hope and suspicion in your gaze.

"Are you serious?" you ask, your voice hoarse from dehydration.

"Yeah, after we get you a shower, some clothes and burn the house down."

You gulp and stand to your feet. "Could we get burgers?"

Suguru grins before grabbing the remote and pointing it at the cage.

"Fine by me."

~

The Mute Collector.

Geto Suguru is sitting across from the fucking Mute Collector.

And god you are beautiful.

Not that he just realized it now. Like many others, he has always known how attractive you are; he just pushed it to the back of his mind. But now, knowing who you really are and what you do in your free time, your body has practically been encompassed in bright warm light and your head adorned with a halo. He watches as you down your 6th cup of water with a sigh and wipe your mouth with your sleeve.

The two of you sit in a cozy booth at a restaurant, the warm, smoky aroma filling the air. Suguru leans back with a beer in hand, watching you with a mix of amusement and caution. The waitress approaches, placing a large plate with a double cheeseburger and fries in front of you. Your eyes light up, and without wasting a second, you pick up the cheeseburger with your fingers and take a big bite, savoring the flavors.

Suguru chuckles, raising his beer in a mock toast. "You look like you've just found the Holy Grail."

He doesn't miss the way you stifle back a laugh, trying to speak through a mouthful of burger. "If the Holy Grail were covered in cheese and ketchup, then yeah, maybe."

He takes a sip of his beer, grinning. "I’ve never seen someone so excited about food. Maybe you should give up your little hobby and do food reviews."

"Well, that's what being trapped in a cage with the rotting corpse of a pedophile does to you I guess." You grumble, setting down the burger and taking another drink of water.

Suguru's eyes stay on you, and he takes the opportunity to really assess you. Your hair is damp, and the wetness seeps into the white Mickey Mouse shirt you're wearing, causing it to cling slightly to your skin and reveal the elegant lines of your collarbone. He bought that shirt and the shorts for you at a thrift store, and despite the fact that such clothes should look bad on anyone, you are rocking them effortlessly.

He can't help but notice that you didn't buy a bra, a fact that makes him smile to himself.

No bra.

"So tell me." Suguru sets his beer back on the table and leans in.

"The whole ears, eyes and heart thing." He waves his left hand in the air. "The police say it's satanic ritual stuff but I don't buy it."

You pause, a hint of a smile playing at your lips as you meet his gaze. "It's simple, really. Hear no evil, see no evil, fear no evil."

Suguru raises an eyebrow. "You have a way of making the macabre sound poetic."

You're about to reach for a fry, but he snatches it before your fingers could reach it.

"Why not the tongue?" He says. "You know, speak no evil."

You roll your eyes and snatch the fry out of his fingers. "Tongues are hard to cut, too slippery and make a mess."

He nods thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat. "You know, most people would be horrified to hear you talk like that."

"Good thing you’re not most people," you reply with a smirk.

"Touché."

He watches as your lips wrap around the thick fry and your teeth rip off half of it into your mouth.

No bra.

"What about you Suguru?" You lock eyes with him. "Why are you here?"

"Why am I here?"

"You heard me. You swoop in all superman-like, save me from the dipshit’s pedo dungeon and take me out for a double cheeseburger. Why are you here?"

Suguru shrugs and averts his gaze from your unyielding stare. Shit, your piercing eyes are almost making him sweat.

"Same thing you already did. I was going to skin him alive and and display the fucking monkey Jesus style infront of his house. At least, something like that."

"Yeah but why him? I thought your hunting grounds were in Tokyo?"

Your eyes widen slightly as the words hang in the air, the weight of your mistake sinking in immediately. You feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, a telltale sign of your embarrassment. Your lips part as if to take back the words, but it's too late; they've already been spoken.

A sly smile spreads across Sugurus face as he watches your face fall.

"Oh you totally know who I am Y/n."

"Fucking hell."

"You do! You know that I like to hunt near my home, how long have you been a part of my fan club?"

You roll your eyes and fall back into your seat. You blink rapidly, trying to maintain your composure, but the subtle tension in your jaw and the furrowing of your brow betray your embarrassment.

"So which one was your favorite? The monkey I strung up next to the police station? Or the one I flayed inside the Tokyo Union Church?"

"Oh my god I can already tell you are going to be insufferable." You grumble, the heat of embarrassment slowly dissipating as you take a deep breath. Suguru leans back, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he swirls the beer in his hand, watching you with an almost predatory curiosity. As seconds pass, Suguru assesses your face, following how your eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape route, and Suguru’s playful expression falters for a split second. He realizes with a sudden jolt that you're trying to leave. He can't have that. He needs to see you again.

"Hey speaking of suffering," Suguru clears his throat. "Have you heard about the women killings in Kyoto?"

Your eyebrows raise, curiosity piqued. "Yeah, I've heard. Pretty gruesome stuff. Why do you ask?"

A playful smile tugs at his lips. "How about a friendly competition? The killer's already taken six lives so far."

You tilt your head, your eyes narrowing slightly as you try to decipher his intentions. "What do you mean by a competition?"

Suguru leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "That's exactly what it sounds like. Who can hunt him down first?"

For a moment, you're taken aback, your eyes widening as you process his proposal. A mix of surprise and intrigue flickers across your face. "Are you serious?"

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction. "As sin."

"And what do we get if we win?"

Suguru's eyes gleam with amusement and something else—admiration. "Bragging rights, of course. And maybe... another dinner like this one."

You throw your head back and let out a laugh. "Oh yeah? Who says I'll need you to get me another dinner?"

"Can't let you go hungry again. What do you say?”

~

You sit at your desk, the dim light of your laptop casting a pale glow on your face as you scroll through articles about the woman killer from Kyoto. The room is quiet, save for the occasional click of your mouse and the hum of the laptop. Your phone buzzes, and you glance at the screen to see Shoko’s name. With a smile, you answer the call.

"Hey Shoko, how’s your night shift?" you greet her with a teasing tone.

Shoko’s laugh crackles through the speaker. "Busy as always. Just patched up a guy who thought he could outsmart a bulletproof vest with sheer willpower. Spoiler: he couldn’t."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Sounds like my type of guy."

By day, Shoko is your best friend and a dedicated med student, excelling in her studies with a, albeit, half hearted, passion for helping others. But when the sun sets, she transforms into the notorious Dr. Reverse, the underground doctor every criminal and lowlife turns to in their time of need. Using her medical expertise, she serves those who cannot seek help through legal means, operating in the shadows and patching up criminals who live by a different set of rules. In addition to her medical skills, she also deals in poisons, further cementing her reputation in the underworld.

You first met Shoko in a moment of desperation. After cornering a serial rapist, you were attacked with a machete, almost severing your arm. With nowhere else to turn, you sought out Dr. Reverse. Shoko skillfully sewed you up and, in the process, deduced that you were the infamous Mute Collector. To your surprise, she didn't seem to care about your identity, and you, in turn, didn't question her underground business or her dealings with poison. This mutual understanding and acceptance laid the foundation for a strong bond, and you've been best friends ever since. 

Shoko laughed, a sound that always manages to lift your spirits. "Right? Anyway, what's up? I saw your SOS text."

You hesitate, glancing at the photo of Geto Suguru on your screen on a separate tab. His annoyingly white teeth glare back at you, and you try to resist staring at his six pack in an instagram photo someone took of him at a pool party.  His dark eyes seemed to stare right through you, as if mocking your indecision. "It's about Geto."

There was a brief pause before Shoko's voice came back, tinged with curiosity. "Geto? What about him?"

You take a deep breath, your fingers drumming nervously on the desk. "He's the Crucifier."

Shoko's reaction was immediate and loud. "Geto is what?" she practically yelled through the phone, causing you to wince.

"The Crucifier. I know." You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all. "Can you believe it?"

Shoko let out a low whistle. "Wow. I mean, he always seemed like a guy with secrets, but I never pegged him for a serial killer, I mean, someone like you."

"Yeah, well, here we are," You mutter, rubbing your temples. You focus your attention back on your computer screen. Suguru is squeaky clean, not even a bad review on his website. There was only his questionable taste in best friends: Gojo Satoru—the biggest playboy and the infamous heir to the Gojo Company, Japan's largest and most influential corporation. Gojo's notoriety was legendary, his exploits plastered across tabloids and whispered in gossip circles. You’ve met, and been hit on by the man a few times, and not once did you fall for any of his slimy cheap antics. No, Geto Suguru is who your eyes fell on. 

 "And now he’s proposed some sort of competition."

"A competition?" Shoko's voice was practically dripping with amusement. "Like a hunting competition?”

You let out a snort of air through your nose. “Basically.”

Are you gonna do it?"

"I don't know," You admit, leaning forward and resting your chin on your hand. "I said I would, but I don't know. I barely know the guy. Well, I thought I did."

"Well, you should," Shoko said, her tone shifting to one of gentle teasing. "Besides, isn't this your chance to get closer to your crush?"

You feel your cheeks flush. "Shoko, seriously? Come on, that was ages ago."

"Hey, I'm just saying," she replies, laughter bubbling up again. "This could be your big break."

"You're impossible," you grumble, though you can't help but smile. "How's the side business, by the way?"

"Thriving," she says and you can practically see her small smile through the phone.. "You'd be amazed at how many people need a little untraceable something for their enemies."

"I don't doubt it," you say, shaking your head. "Just stay safe, okay?"

"You too, Mute Collector," Shoko says, her voice softening slightly. "And remember, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

"Always," you reply, your smile growing wider. "Thanks, Shoko. Talk to you soon."

"Later," she says, and the line goes dead.

You lean back in your chair again, your thoughts drifting back to Geto Suguru and the strange, dangerous world you both inhabit. As much as you hate to admit it, Shoko is right. This is your chance, not just to catch some sick killer, but to uncover the secrets that lie hidden beneath Suguru’s enigmatic exterior.

With a sigh, you close your laptop and stand up, determination settling in your chest. The competition awaits, and you have a feeling it's going to be a game changer.

~

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Suguru rolls his eyes at the white hair man’s mocking tone and continues to stare at his phone. It's been 10 minutes. How long does it take for someone to respond to a text. Suguru lay sprawled on the couch, his eyes fixed on his phone. Across the room, Gojo was bustling about in the kitchen, the sound of utensils clinking and food sizzling filling the air.

"Is this about Y/n? The Mute Collector or whatever?" Gojo asked, glancing over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

Suguru didn't respond, his gaze unwavering from the screen. He could feel Gojo's eyes on him, the scrutiny almost tangible.

"I don't think I've seen you put this much effort into a woman since, like... ever," Gojo continued, his tone teasing. He turned back to his cooking, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.

Suguru's jaw tightened, but he kept his silence. Gojo, undeterred, pressed on. "Besides the fact that she's the Mute Collector, what do you even see in Y/n? Well, I guess she does have other assets," he chuckled.

"Keep her name out of your fucking mouth, you prick," Suguru snapped, his voice low and menacing.

Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender, a laugh escaping his lips. "Alright, alright, no need to get all territorial."

Suguru continued to stare at his phone, his fingers hovering over the keys. "How long does it take for someone to respond to a fucking text" he mutters under his breath.

Gojo leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Maybe she's busy. Or maybe she's just messing with you. You know, playing hard to get."

Suguru finally looks up, his eyes narrowing. "She doesn't play games. And she's not hard to get—she's hard to keep."

Gojo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by Suguru's reaction. “Touchy, touchy,” he mutters, returning to his culinary task.

Just then, Suguru's phone pings. His heart skips a beat as he sees your name flash on the screen. He quickly opens the message, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reads your response.

Y/n: Fine, I'll do it. But what are the details?

Suguru: Oh, I'm thrilled

Y/n: Shut up.

Suguru: The rules are simple: whoever deduces the monkey’s identity first and guts the bastard wins.

Y/n: And how do I know you don’t already have a head start?

Suguru: I guess you'll just have to trust me. 

Y/n: Trust you? That’s rich coming from someone who literally stabs people in the back.

Suguru lets out a snort of air from your comment catching Gojo’s attention. “Ah, there it is. The smile of a man who's finally gotten what he wants.”

Suguru doesn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he focuses on your message, feeling a grin grow on his lips.

Suguru: You wound me, truly. But where’s the fun without a little challenge? Besides, I wouldn’t want to make it too easy for you

Y/n: Easy, huh? I suppose you think you’re quite the genius, then?

Suguru: Only compared to the average monkey. You, on the other hand, might actually make this interesting.

Y/n: Is that a compliment or are you just trying to butter me up?

Suguru: Can’t it be both? 

Y/n: Oh, don't worry. You’re not the only one who enjoys a good chase. But don’t cry when I beat you at your own game.

Suguru: Cry? Please. I’ll be too busy admiring you in action. It’s a win-win for me.

Y/n: Flattery will get you nowhere, Suguru.

Suguru: Really?

Suguru: Not even a little bit princess 🥺?

Y/n: *One attachment*

You send an image of your hand flipping him off. Your middle finger nail is painted black and he assumes so are all your other fingers. His heart thuds against his chest. God, how he would love to have those nails dragging down his back. His dick twitches just thinking about it. 

Gojo snickers as if he can read Suguru’s thoughts and Suguru considers throwing his phone at the smug white hair man when Gojo’s phone rings. Any humor falls off Gojo’s features like snow from a shaken tree branch. He glances at the caller ID, his eyes narrowing, and picks up the phone with a serious tone.

“This is Gojo.” He says. His voice is gruff as he responds to the caller with clipped “yes” and “no” answers, his timbre low. “I'll be there in 30 minutes.” 

When he sets down the phone, Suguru meets his blue eyes, Gojo’s brief smile is grim.

“Trouble?” Suguru asks.

“Trouble.” Gojo repeats.

On the exterior Gojo is Japan's most infamous playboy and philanthropist. But by night he is the devil's tool, the country's most lethal assassin for anyone from politicians to presidents.  What Suguru and you do for a hobby, Gojo Satoru does for his job.

Gojo dumps his hot food in a container, grabs his hunting knife coat and bag and heads for the door. Before he exits, he turns around to lock eyes with Suguru.

“Be safe. A woman killer is a deadly combo.” He says.

Suguru chuckles, and for a second he doesn't know if Gojo’s talking about you or the guy in Kyoto. “You to ass hat.”  

~

You can't believe you are doing this. 

You can't believe that you took up Suguru’s competition, spent 120 dollars on a train and hotel room at Kyoto and an extra 20 on room service. Moreover you can't believe that you are here, hiding in a forest of bamboo shoots at the dead of night, watching some man who may or may not be the Kyoto women killer.

It’s a warm summer night, and every time the wind blows, the bamboo shoots rustle against each other, creating a haunting melody that sets your nerves on edge. The air is thick with the scent of earth and foliage, and the occasional hoot of an owl punctuates the silence. You’re crouched low, your body tense, watching a man named Noaya Zenin who you followed out here. He seems to be wandering aimlessly, but you know better than to underestimate him. The Zenin clan's reach is long and shadowy, and their involvement in the Kyoto women killings is a tangled web you’ve been unraveling. All key witnesses were either paid off by the Zenin clan or had lawyers representing them from the Zenin clan. The pattern was too precise to be a coincidence.

Your heart thuds in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The thrill of the chase, the hunt, makes your senses sharper, every movement and sound more pronounced. You can feel the need creeping up on you, slowly reaching your brain until your skin itches with anticipation. 

Each minute feels like an eternity as you scrutinize Noaya’s every move. He stops occasionally, looking around as if sensing he’s being watched, and you hold your breath, pressing yourself closer to the ground. The moonlight filters through the dense bamboo, casting eerie shadows that dance with the wind. Your mind races, piecing together fragments of evidence and suspicion. If Noaya Zenin is indeed the killer, catching him here could be the breakthrough you need.

“Hiya.”

A scream almost rips through you when you feel someone's breath against your ear, but you quickly cover your mouth and whip around. Of course, you’re met face to face with the man you least wanted to see right now. Familiar hazel eyes gaze back at you, glinting with mischief and amusement. Suguru is crouched right next to you, his nose mere inches from yours, a sly smirk on his face. You didn’t even hear him approach.

“Suguru, what the fuck?” you hiss, keeping your voice low. Your first instinct is to grab your knife out of your pocket and press it against his throat but he holds both his hands up as if surrendering, stopping you.

“Woah woah princess, let's cool our engines.” He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying your reaction.

Your pulse is still racing, but you force yourself to calm down. “You could have given me a heart attack. How did you even find me?” You seethe.

“I have my ways,” he replies cryptically, his smirk widening. “Besides, I couldn’t let you have all the fun, now could I? So,” his eyes flicker to Noaya, who still seems to be staring at his phone. “Who are we looking at?”

“We?” You scoff and roll your eyes. “Are you kidding me? There is no we. This is a competition, remember? Go do your own research.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, come on. You know you love my company.”

Before you can retort, Noaya picks up his phone. You both strain to listen, and you catch his words clearly.

“Yeah, I’m at the bamboo forest. See you soon, babe.” He then hangs up the phone with a click and puts it back in his backpack. But just when you're about to turn back to Suguru and rip into the man, Noaya pulls something else out too. A hunting knife. A large one at that with serrated ends and a pointed tip that glints in the moon light. Just like the one used on the victims. And as if things couldn't get any more apparent, you watch as a wicked grin spreads across his face when he draws the blade diagonally through the air.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, eyes wide. “That’s definitely him. That’s like some comically evil villain shit right there.”

“Dibs,” Suguru whispers back, a glint of excitement in his eyes as he puts on his ghost mask. “I call fucking dibs.” He stands up, the crunch of leaves making Noaya whip around and stare right at the area you both hid in.

For a solid 5 seconds your two flabbergasted to even form words, you can only watch as Suguru steps out from the bamboo shoots and onto the trail, slowly walking toward Noaya like a lion cornering a gazelle. 

Or course, Noaya turns, screams like a little girl, and makes a hard right straight into the forest of bamboos.

“Oh hell no,” you mutter, leaping up and chasing after him. You sprint through the forest, the warm summer air thick and humid around you. Each footfall is muffled by the dense undergrowth, but the occasional snap of a twig or crunch of leaves marks your frenzied pace. Moonlight filters through the dense canopy, casting ghostly shadows that dance along the forest floor, creating an ever-shifting maze of light and dark.

Your breath comes in quick, controlled bursts, each inhale filling your lungs with the earthy scent of the forest. Adrenaline surges through your veins, sharpening your senses. The rhythmic pounding of your heart in your chest matches the rapid beat of your footsteps. Ahead, you can just make out the faint silhouette of Noaya, his panicked movements betraying his desperation.

Branches claw at your clothes and face, but you push through, eyes locked on your target. The thrill of the chase ignites every nerve, propelling you forward with a singular focus. Suguru’s presence is a constant just behind you, his footsteps a steady reminder of the competition driving you both. You can hear his breaths, steady and calculated, mirroring your own.

The path twists and turns, the bamboo growing thicker, creating a claustrophobic tunnel. You duck and weave, dodging low-hanging branches and vaulting over fallen logs. The forest floor is uneven, riddled with roots and hidden pitfalls, but your reflexes are sharp, your movements instinctual.

The thrill, the excitement, the danger—it all converges in this moment. You are a predator in your element, and your prey is within reach. The bamboo forest seems to blur around you, time stretching and contracting with each heartbeat. This is what you live for, the ultimate test of skill and nerve, the ultimate game of life and death.

Just as you’re about to close the distance, your fingertips brushing the fabric of Noaya’s shirt, he whirls around with surprising speed. The moonlight catches the gleam of his hunting knife as it arcs through the air. Instinct takes over, and you try to dodge, but the blade slices across your palm, leaving a hot, stinging line of red in its wake.

For a split second, time seems to slow. You see the wild desperation in Noaya’s eyes, the way his chest heaves with exertion and fear. But there’s no pain, only a white-hot fury that floods your veins, fueling your next move.

Your grip tightens around the hilt of your own knife, slick with blood but steady. The cut on your palm feels like a mere scratch compared to the surge of adrenaline that courses through you. With a fierce snarl, you lunge forward, using the momentum to drive Noaya back a step.

He stumbles, his confidence faltering as he realizes the severity of his mistake. You don’t give him a chance to recover. You move with a predatory grace, every muscle coiled and ready to strike. The forest around you fades into a blur of green and shadow, all your focus locked on the man in front of you.

Noaya swings wildly, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. You sidestep his attacks with practiced ease, your fury giving you a sharp, clear edge. The scent of blood mingles with the earthy aroma of the forest, and your pulse pounds in your ears like a war drum.

You close the distance again, this time with a calculated precision. Your free hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until the knife clatters to the ground. Noaya yelps in pain, his eyes widening in terror. The tables have turned, and he knows it.

Your injured hand, still bleeding, clamps down on his shoulder with a vice-like grip. You lean in close, your breath hot against his ear. “Nice try,” you hiss, the fury in your voice making him shudder. “But it’s over.”

With a swift, brutal motion, you plunge your knife into his chest. The blade sinks into flesh with a sickening thud, and Noaya's eyes widen in shock and agony. Blood spurts from the wound, hot and sticky, spraying across your face in a macabre mist. The initial strike is met with a gasp, a desperate, choking sound that fuels the savage fire within you.

A wicked grin spreads across your face, the thrill of dominance electrifying your senses. You pull the knife out, feeling the resistance of tissue and bone, and then plunge it in again, and again. Each thrust is accompanied by a wet, squelching sound, a symphony of carnage that drowns out the world around you. Blood flows freely, pooling at your feet and soaking into the earth.

Noaya’s body jerks and spasms with each stab, his strength fading with every violent assault. His once panicked eyes grow dull, the life draining from them as you continue your relentless attack. The coppery tang of blood fills the air, mingling with the scent of the forest, creating a heady mixture that makes your pulse race even faster.

You lose yourself in the rhythm of the violence, the way your muscles strain and flex with each plunge of the knife. Blood splatters across your face and clothes, warm and viscous, painting you in the evidence of your victory. Your grin widens, a feral expression of triumph and fury.

Amidst your frenzied stabbings, Suguru places a hand on your shoulder. "I think—" he begins, but when you turn around to face him he immediately shuts up.

Your eyes are wide, pupils contracted like a deranged predator. Your hair flows wildly in the wind as you grab Suguru's throat with your bloody hand, smearing the crimson on his skin and pressing him against a tree. 

"This woman-killer fucker is mine." You seethe.

His dick strains against his cargo pants waistband. You look divine.

“ Of course, All yours baby.” He coos.

~

Geto Suguru would be lying if he said that watching you tear apart that woman-killer wasn't the hottest thing he had ever seen. 

To Suguru, you looked divine. The moonlight accentuated the sharp angles of your face, casting shadows that danced across your blood-splattered skin. Your eyes, wild with the remnants of fury, glowed with an unearthly intensity. The contrast of crimson against your complexion made you seem otherworldly, a dark goddess of vengeance. Suguru couldn’t tear his eyes away, mesmerized by the raw, primal beauty you exuded in that moment.

The walk back to your hotel was silent, but not because you were soaked in blood or because he felt awkward. More like it was because the only think he could think to say is “You are so fucking hot.”

Now here he is, twiddling his thumbs as he stands outside of your hotel door, trying to think of the right thing to say to you because god he needs to see your face one last time before he goes to bed.

He raises his hand to knock, but before he can, the door swings open. You stand there, your hair wet and smelling faintly of vanilla. You’ve clearly just come out of the shower. A tank top clings to your damp skin, and sports shorts hug your thighs. His eyes widen slightly, and he gulps, struggling to keep his composure. 

No bra.

The sight makes his mouth go dry.

"Just checking to see if everything is good," he says, nodding toward your bandaged hand.

You feel yourself fidget in your place and you try to flash a small smile but your emotions betray you. What if you freaked him out? What he saw back there, what you did back there, that was you, the raw you. Behind all the layers of kind smiles and pleasantries, in many ways, you were no different than an animal, consumed by your predatory instincts. You wouldn't blame him if he never contacted you again after this. Shit, did you just fuck up everything?

 His presence fills the doorway, and you’re acutely aware of the tension between you two.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reply, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Thanks for asking.”

His eyes flicker down to your hand, then back up to meet yours. “How’s the hand?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

You hold it up and wiggle your fingers slightly. “It’ll heal. No big deal.”

Silence fills the void between you two and you clear your throat, searching for something to say to break the awkward silence, but he beats you to it.

“Mind if I come in?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans against the doorframe. “Or are you planning to keep all the fun out here in the hallway?”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Sure, come in. But I warn you, it’s a mess.”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” he quips, stepping inside. His eyes scan the room, taking in the organized chaos. Bandages and clothes are scattered around the floor and he doesn't miss the splatter of blood on the white sheets of the hotel bed. After a moment, Suguru turns around and takes a step closer to you, like he’s examining you. 

You tilt your head slightly, letting a smirk play on your lips. "So, now that I’ve won the bet, what do I get?"

He chuckles, the sound low and smooth, as he takes another step closer, closing the distance between you. "I was wondering when you’d bring that up." 

You arch an eyebrow, trying to keep your composure despite the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. "Well? I’m waiting. What’s my prize?"

Suguru stops just inches from you. "I don’t know," he quips, "What do you want?"

You let out a short laugh, though it’s clear you’re testing him now. "That’s a big question."

Suguru's eyes darken slightly, his playful demeanor shifting into something more serious, more intense. He leans in just a fraction, his breath warm against your skin. "Try me."

The tension between you two is palpable, electric. You’re the first to break the silence, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "I want," you pause, averting your gaze from Suguru’s hawkish one. “I want to know if I scared you.” The question slips out before you can stop it, your bravado faltering as doubt creeps in.

Suguru blinks, then a slow smile spreads across his face. "Scare me?" He repeats, as if the idea itself is laughable. He steps even closer, forcing you to take a step back until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. "Scare me?” He repeats again. “You didn’t scare me," he continues, his voice low and sincere. "You… captivated me. I have never, and I mean never, seen something so magnificent as what you did. And that's saying a lot because I've done a shit ton of magnificent things.”

You sit down on the bed, more out of necessity than choice, as he looms over you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you feel a mix of emotions—relief, curiosity, and something much more dangerous.

"What are you doing?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as he leans in, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in place.

He smiles, a slow, almost wicked grin that sends shivers down your spine. "Well, I thought I might kiss you now, you know, after telling you how magnificent you are.” He tilts his head. “Is that a bad idea?"

Your breath catches in your throat as the weight of his words sinks in. You forget to breathe.

You finally find your voice, though it’s a bit shakier than you’d like. "That depends…"

"On?" He asks, his face inching closer to yours, his gaze locked onto your lips.

"On how good you are at it," you murmur.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. Suguru closes the remaining distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s as intense as it is tender. It’s a slow, deliberate connection, his hands moving to cradle your face as if you’re something precious, something worth savoring.

The kiss deepens, and all the tension that had been building between you two finally snaps, leaving nothing but raw desire in its wake. You respond in kind, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as if you can’t get enough.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, and the world seems to have shrunk down to just the two of you in this moment. Suguru’s forehead rests against yours, and he smiles, a real, genuine smile that you can feel in your bones.

"So," he says, his voice husky and low. "How was that?"

You laugh softly, still trying to catch your breath. "Not bad," you admit, your fingers running through his black hair. "Not bad at all."

"Good," he replies, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a kiss. "Because I plan on doing it again."

Suguru’s lips are on yours again before you can even catch your breath, this time more insistent, more demanding. He’s not asking for permission anymore; he’s claiming what he wants, and it makes your head spin. The kiss deepens as his tongue slips past your lips, exploring your mouth with a slow, deliberate intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You can taste him—warm, intoxicating—and you find yourself leaning into his lips, craving more.

His hand, warm and firm, slides down your side, tracing the curve of your waist before coming to rest between your thighs. The touch is electrifying, sending a jolt of sensation through you, and you gasp against his mouth, your heart pounding in your chest.

But it’s too much, too fast. Your mind races, and you instinctively pull back, breaking the kiss. “Wait,” you murmur, your voice breathless, “I dont know if we should….” You avert your gaze and turn your head toward the wall but Suguru grabs your chin, forcing you to look right into his hazel eyes. Then, he dips his head to whisper in your ear.

“Aw come one Y/n” He grazes your earlobe with his teeth. “I’ve been on my best behavior, a good boy,” Suguru pauses to deliver a soft kiss to your temple. “I've been waiting, waiting ever since I met you in that cage to do this. Don't I deserve a reward for my patience?” 

You thickly gulp as he rubs the sides of your neck with his lips.

“I’ve been-” He kisses your jaw. “Such a-” he kisses his way up to your mouth. “Good boy.”

You cave. 

As his words sink in, you feel your resolve crumbling, the weight of his desire pressing down on you in the most intoxicating way. Before you can even process what’s happening, Suguru's strong arms wrap around you, lifting you off the bed with effortless ease. His grip is firm but gentle, as if he's afraid of breaking you, and you can't help but let out a soft gasp as he lifts you off the bed and up so your head rests on the plush hotel pillow. His eyes lock onto yours, dark with intent, and you feel your breath hitch as the world narrows down to just the two of you. The room is filled with the sound of your breathing, heavy and uneven, mingling with the quiet rustle of sheets as he leans over you.

“I know you have been thinking about this too.” He coos. Suguru’s hands move with a deliberate slowness, as if savoring the moment. His fingers curl around the hem of your tank top, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to lift it. The cool air hits your skin as he pulls the fabric up and over your head, exposing you to his hungry gaze. But before you can feel self-conscious, his lips are on your newly exposed skin, pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice filled with awe and reverence. “Just so gorgeous.”

His hands are on your shorts next, tugging them down your hips with the same careful slowness, as if he’s unwrapping the most precious gift. As the fabric slips down your legs, he trails kisses along the newly exposed skin, his lips brushing against your thighs, your knees, your calves, until the shorts are discarded on the floor.

Now you’re lying before him in just your underwear, and the way he looks at you makes your heart pound. His eyes are dark and intense, filled with a hunger that makes your entire body flush with heat. “You’re gorgeous,” he repeats, his voice thick with emotion. “Just so damn gorgeous.”

Suguru straightens up slightly, his hands moving to the hem of his own shirt. In one fluid motion, he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside, revealing his bare chest. The sight of him makes your breath catch—his body is lean and athletic, muscles defined and sculpted from years of discipline and training. Tattoos cover his skin in an elaborate tapestry. He’s handsome, impossibly so, and the sight of him like this, just inches away, makes your pulse quicken.

He doesn’t stop there. His fingers move to the waistband of his sweatpants, and he slides them down, revealing more of his skin, his strong legs, until he’s kneeling before you in just his boxers. The fabric clings to him in a way that leaves little to the imagination, and you can’t help but stare, mesmerized by the sheer physicality of him.

Suguru catches your gaze, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Something catches your eye princess?”

You nod, “Yes. You. All of you.” Your eyes tracing every line and curve of his body. He’s more than just handsome—he’s breathtaking, a perfect combination of strength and beauty that leaves you feeling weak in the best way possible.

He leans down again, his body hovering over yours, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Good, wouldn't want you to be disappointed.”

With that, he captures your lips in a heated kiss, his hands trailing down your sides, touching, feeling, exploring. 

You are too lost in the kiss not to notice his hands slipping under your underwear and making their way to your dripping cunt, and when they do, you jump at the feeling of his index finger tracing your slit.

"Gotta get you ready baby.?" Suguru hums and you shake you head vigorously.

"No please Sugu~, I can take it."

You don't have to tell him twice.

In one fluid motion Suguru tears off your underwear, lays you on your back and positions himself between your legs.

"Been waiting to do this for so long," he murmurs as he pulls down his boxers and whips out his dick. You thickly gulp at the sight, you could've guessed he was big not this big, could he even fit in you? A white bead of precum dribbled from his pretty pink tip and down his length and he uses the liquid to stroke himself in a few fluid motions.

You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.

"Suguru please~" You whine and nearly miss the way his ears go bright red at your words

"I know baby, I know. Don't worry, lift your hips for me love?”

You oblige and immediately when you do so you're struck with the feeling of his length spreading you so helplessly wide and his tip smashing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides into you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, you're cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making Suguru let out a low groan of his own and pushing even deeper into you. 

“F-fuck I can feel you doing it to me,” he said hoarsely.

His fingers gently press into the skin of your hip, guiding and steadying you as he pulls back and thrusts into you. The sudden friction and collision with your G-spot knocks the wind out of your lungs. Ticklish pleasure courses through your veins and you immediately throw your head back against the wall as Suguru thrusts into you.

"Hnghh, s-so good~~" You whine. It was dizzying, the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up.

Simultaneously, his other hand sought yours, finding it with a purposeful tenderness. His fingers intertwined with yours, locking them together in a grip that was both a clasp and a caress.

You dont even realize that your eyes are closed until Suguru whispers into your ear.

“Come on baby, open those pretty eyes, look at me.”

You do as he says and when you do you feel your heart thud in your chest. Suguru’s eyes were fixated completely on you, how you were reacting, as his hips were continuously slamming into your body as if it were clockwork. The sight alone had your walls clamping down on him, earning a groan from the base of his chest. 

Suddenly, the hand that had been intertwined with yours released its grip and began to rummage through Suguru’s discarded pants. Your breath hitched, eyes glazed over as you watched him retrieve a knife from his pocket, unsheathing it effortlessly with a flick of his finger. The sharp glint of the blade caught your attention from beneath Suguru’s body, even as he continued thrusting into you, not missing a beat.

Your body reacted instinctively, clenching at the sight, drawing a low, dark chuckle from Suguru.

“Hah, I knew it,” he said, his voice laced with a teasing edge as he brought the cold steel to the base of your throat. “You’re just a slut for knives, aren’t you?”

A moan escaped your lips, the sound betraying any chance of denial. Suguru took it as an admission, pressing the blade firmly against the skin of your throat as he angled his hips to hit even deeper inside you. The cool metal at your throat was electrifying, but it was his other hand, strong and unyielding, that sent a euphoric thrill coursing through you. His fingers flexed, tightening around your neck, the pressure intensifying.

It wasn’t just the air being cut off—it was the dizzying, intoxicating pleasure that came with it. The way his grip constricted, pushing you to the edge of control, ignited something raw inside. Every squeeze of his hand made your body burn hotter, a perfect balance between pain and pleasure, leaving you gasping for more.

What a primal dirty sight you where, being choked with a blade against your throat while fucked brutaly. Even the devil would clutch his rosaries.  

"Were we doing it like this in your head baby?" Suguru grunts, his Adam apple bobs as he groans from the pleasure of how fucking heavenly your pussy feels. “Because we were doing it like this in mine.” Good? Try euphoric, how could he ever think his fist could substitute the wet squeeze of your cunt?

You can't even open your mouth to respond. The friction of his dick against your walls and the adrenaline from the knife is just too good and as his pace intensified, a dizzying warmth spread through you, filling every corner of your being with a euphoric haze. The sensation of being completely enveloped, utterly connected, sent electric flesh arrows of pleasure through your body, making your eyes flutter and roll back slightly in sheer bliss. Every motion Suguru makes, every time his fat tip collides with your cervix, leaves behind a trail of sparkling heat that seems to light you from within.

"Come on eyes on me when I fuck you baby~" Suguru releases his hold from your neck and snakes his fingers between your body , finding your clit and pressing down on the pearl back and forth with the pad of index finger. "Tell me how good you feel, tell me how badly you want to cum.

He doesn’t slow the ministrations on your clit for a second as he snaps his hips into you with primal vigor, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.

"So good Sugu!" You sob. You cant even open your eyes from the colors you're seeing behind your lids. Every time your pussy squeezes around him not only do bolts of pleasure shoot up your body but a ring of milky white cum forms around the base of his cock.

Suguru’s eyes are locked on how good you're taking him - the fat of his head has a hard time popping out with how greedy your cunny is being. He lets out a sharp moan at how wet you are on the inside.

"S-shit baby wanna feel you cum on me, been waiting so long." Suguru is not a whining man but here he is practically stumbling over his words. Fuck, he wants to keep himself inside you forever. He wants your kisses, your skin, your touch, your blood, your lips, to be his to claim until you die together. No one has seen, truly seen him, before you. You are what he thinks about when he wakes up, when he is eating, when he is plunging his knife into some worthless monkey. You are his goddess. 

The world beyond this intimate cocoon of warmth and breath seemed distant, irrelevant. His gaze was locked with yours, deep and unwavering, a silent communication that tethered you through the mind numbing ecstasy.

Then, he reels his hips back and slams into you in a new angle that has your body jerking.

“Found it didn't I?” He breathes through a smile and pummels into you with vigor. And your about to disagree with him, insist that the feeling is too new and foreign to feel good when all of a sudden your body begins to shake and your head starts to feel fuzzy

And suddenly—you feel it. What you’ve been craving for and what you have seen in porn.

Its like all your body's energy centers are activating at once and your left utterly helpless to the feeling of tingling ecstasy wrapping your brain and stomach.

You dont know how to tell him that something is happening, not when the pleasure is too immense your barely breathing full breaths. But he understands once again the words you tried desperately to communicate.

“Do it baby. Cum. I’ll fill you up, and if it spills I'll fuck it back into you"

So you do.

Release washed over you in an all-encompassing wave, radiating out from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes. It swept through you like a storm, leaving a trail of starbursts in its wake. Your body arched instinctively, clinging to Suguru as the wave crested, then gently, slowly, began to ebb.

“Ah, princess, please,” he moaned. “Be a good girl and take it all, yeah?” 

Your fingers trailed up his shoulder, only to drag them back down his spine, nails biting into his skin as he buried himself deep inside you, releasing with a powerful shudder. His movements grew erratic, hips pressing yours firmly into the mattress as his hot breath skimmed across your neck, ragged and heavy.

The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this moment, lost in each other, with nothing but the sound of your breathing and the feel of his touch to guide you.

The warmth of his cum spreads through your body with a shiver, and you can feel the liquid expanding against your walls while he kept you plugged and full of him. As you both floated back down from the heights of bliss, your breaths came easier, softer, the lingering aftershocks of pleasure pulsing gently through you.

"You're mine ok?" Suguru coos, and all you can do is dumbly nod.

"I'll die for you, I'll kill a thousand monkeys for you, i'll hold them down so you can cut our their eyes. Just stay by my side."

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞 (𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬).

— pairing; malleus draconia x ramshackle! reader

— summary; you make out with malleus, cue the walk of shame back to his dorm

— notes; please donate to my kofi if you like my work. and know that i am mentally smooching everyone who reblogs my stuff.

❋ After an intense make out session in the dimly lit Ramshackle Lounge, the Prince of Briar Valley comes up for air with a smudged face and an oddly dazed look. His normally perfect appearance is ruffled and untidy, and you're feeling a tiny sense of pride at how you've managed to make him come undone like this.

❋ His eyeliner is definitely smeared, making him look a bit more like a mischievous fae from the ancient stories. If only Lilia could see him now, he thinks, mildly mortified but also not minding it. The faint remains of your lipstick stain his mouth, and it’s more than obvious what he’s been doing.

❋ Malleus tries to tidy up before taking his leave. But no matter how much he smooths out his jacket or adjusts his collar, the faint traces of smudged lipstick on his cheek just make him look more ruffled. From where you're snuggled up under the covers, you can’t help but giggle, and he levels a playful glare in your direction — but there’s amusement dancing in his eyes.

❋ (This amusement quickly fades once he returns back to Diasomnia, however.)

❋ Sebek’s been waiting up, pacing anxiously in the lounge as he waits for Malleus to return. His mouth falls open when he catches sight of his smudged makeup and the faint trace of your red lipstick. Gasping in horror, he quickly moves to shield Malleus, barking out orders for the curious onlookers to avert their eyes.

❋ Silver tries to keep a straight face, though the slightest twitch of his mouth betrays his amusement. He’s seen Malleus in various states, but never quite like this. “A late night, Lord Malleus?” Silver inquires innocently.

❋ That’s definitely Lilia’s influence shining through.

❋ Summoned by all the chaos, Lilia floats into the room with an exaggerated gasp. “My, my, young Malleus! I daresay someone had a good time tonight!” Malleus’ façade cracks as he pouts glares, but Lilia isn’t fazed, winking as he encourages Malleus to “visit Ramshackle more often” if it’s that enjoyable.

❋ Even after he cleans up, Diasomnia’s halls seem filled with whispers (no thanks to Sebek accidentally letting the entire dorm know about Malleus’ private matters in his well-meaning attempt to help). Malleus rarely gives anyone reason to talk, so the unexpected “walk of shame” becomes an instant legend.

❋ It’s a new experience for Malleus, but it definitely won’t be the last.

[luv-lock]

⸻ ᴀ ʟ ᴡ ᴀ ʏ ꜱ ᴍ ɪ ɴ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: Dark Maegor I Targaryen x Fem Reader

Summary: You were always his. From the moment you were born. And it's going to stay that way, whatever you like it or not.

Warning: Targcest, Graphic depictions of violence, Non con, Maegor himself is a warning.

Notes: English is not my first language. Art belong to dalberadiata. Hope you enjoy!

Maegor kicked a rock with all the strength his young body could muster, the jagged stone skittering across the ground and disappearing into the brush. His chest heaved with frustration, his fists clenched at his sides, and his face contorted in a mask of anger.

But no matter how much he trained, no matter how hard he fought, his father’s gaze always passed over him. Like he wasn’t even there.

His foot slammed into another rock, as he ground his teeth in fury. He wanted to be king. He would be king. One day, they would all see—his father, his brother—all of them would see.

“Boo!”

A voice, sweet and sudden, pulled him from his thoughts. His body stiffened as he turned, already prepared to strike, but it was only her. His sister, always sneaking up on him, always playing her games. She popped out from behind a tree, her eyes sparkling with mischief, a playful grin on her lips.

“Did I scare you, Maegor?” she teased, laughing softly as she plopped herself down beside him on the grass without waiting for a response.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t smile. Of course, he wasn’t scared. His hands flexed at his sides, still shaking with the remnants of his anger. He wasn’t in the mood for her games. Not today.

But she didn’t seem to notice. She never did. Instead, she sat beside him, her fingers absentmindedly plucking at the flowers that dotted the ground. She hummed softly, her hands busy weaving stems together as if there wasn’t a care in the world.

“I’ll be king one day,” he muttered, his voice low, angry. His fists tightened as he stared ahead, his vision still blurry with unshed tears. “You’ll see. I’ll be a great king. Someone important. Stronger than father. Stronger than anyone.”

She nodded, but he could tell she wasn’t listening. She never really listened when he talked about his plans. She was too busy with her flowers, too lost in her own world of pretty things and laughter. He frowned, watching as she twisted the stems in her delicate hands, her smile never faltering.

“What are you doing?” he snapped, his frustration bubbling up again.

She looked up at him then, her eyes wide, as if his anger didn’t bother her at all. Her smile only grew, and she held up the thing she had been working on. “Done!” she announced, her voice soft and sweet, like the sound of a gentle breeze. She leaned over and placed it on his head—a crown of flowers, woven with care, resting lopsided on his dark hair.

Maegor blinked, confused, his anger momentarily forgotten. He reached up to touch the crown, his brows furrowing as he tried to understand what she had done.

“What is this?”

She smiled at him, that same sweet, soft smile that always made something in his chest ache. “Even if you don’t become king, you’re still my king, Maegor.” Her voice was full of warmth, full of love. “Always.”

He stared at her, the confusion in his eyes deepening. She was always like this—so full of life, so bright. Too bright for someone like him. Too soft for a world as harsh as theirs. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond.

But now, when he looked at her, the only thing that remained was death.

Her body was cold in his arms, a shell of the girl she used to be. Her eyes, once full of light, now stared blankly ahead, her mouth silent as always. But that was alright. She didn’t need to speak. She didn’t need to smile.

He still loved her.

Even like this.

She was dressed in beautiful silk, her hair brushed and perfect, her lips still stained with the remnants of the last kiss he’d given her earlier. She looked like a doll. Fragile. Beautiful. Untouched. He dragged his hand down her neck, savoring the coldness of her skin, feeling the shiver of pleasure that ran through him.

But the silk? That was a pity. He was going to rip that apart anyway.

He pulled her into his lap, her body limp and pliant, her head lolling to the side as he pressed his lips to her neck. He bit down, hard, savoring the taste of her skin, his teeth sinking in deep enough to draw blood. His hand slid between her legs, fingers pushing against her cunt, trying to get her wet. She didn’t move, didn’t react, but he didn’t care. She would be ready for him. She had to be.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered into her skin, his voice dark and rough as he kissed along her neck, his bites growing harder, more savage. “You’ll give me a son. A true son. Something none of those useless cunts could do.” His fingers moved faster, harder, forcing her body to respond. “We’ll name him Aegon. After father. What do you think?”

He pulled back, his eyes gleaming as he looked at her face. Her tears were falling now, silent as always, sliding down her cheeks like the rain.

Oh, right. He had cut her tongue out.

He laughed then, a deep, guttural sound that echoed in the room. How could he have forgotten? She had screamed, hadn’t she? Begged him to stop, to leave her alone. She didn’t want to be his wife. She didn’t want him. But that hadn’t mattered. Not to him. He had made sure she couldn’t refuse him ever again.

He wiped her tears with his thumb, pushing it into her mouth as he did. “It’s alright,” he whispered, his voice soft, mocking. “I love you still. I like you more like this.”

Then he kissed her, hard and rough, his mouth devouring hers as his hand gripped her neck, holding her in place. She didn’t kiss back, didn’t move, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need her to.

He shoved himself inside her, his thrusts brutal, each one harder than the last. Her body didn’t fight him, didn’t resist. She took him in silence, her tears falling faster now, her eyes empty as they stared at the ceiling. But Maegor didn’t stop. He pounded into her, growling with each thrust, determined to make her his in every possible way.

“You're mine,” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous as he fucked her harder. “Always have been and always will be.”

She didn’t respond. She never did. But that was fine.

When he was done, when her body was limp and unconscious beneath him, he pulled out, only to push his seed back inside her, forcing it deeper, making sure she would carry it.

“You’ll be a mother,” he whispered, his hand pressing against her stomach, possessive. “The mother of my child.”

His.

Always his.

[pizzaapeteer]

Summer Afternoon

a/n: nsfw 18+, public fingerfucking, I kind of daydreamed about this and then just spat these 1k words out asap ​👀🤍

Vibrant grass tickles your hands as you dig your fingers through it, feeling the nature surrounding you. Your head rests on Mattheo's chest, moving in a lull with every breath as you lay on top of him. Legs sprawled lazily straddling his hips while he rubs a tender hand up your back, caressing the softness of your skin under your school blouse, light feathery touches that send shivers down to your core.

It's always hard to tell if he's doing it on purpose, but it seems to be a common theme with him, as when your back arches, pressing your front more into him, he shifts his hips in a way to reciprocate your movements. His hand slides further down, dipping under the waistband of your skirt, fingers skimming the grasp of your ass that sits swelled against your lacy panties.

He waits, remaining innocent for the moment till he moves his other hand to tilt your head, bringing you in for a passionate kiss. As your lips move together in what seems a sweet gesture is when his fingers dig, grabbing a fistful of your ass and pushing you down on his hardening groin.

It all happens so fast, his lips don't leave yours, his tongue delving further in, making the kiss deeper, eating up every moan that tumbles out of you. His hands thread grasping at your hair, holding you still and hushing your protest at the intimate display of affection. His hips grind, rubbing, pressing his cock sitting tight in his jeans up against the centre of your cunt.

He groans wanting, needing more, and he pulls your hair back, leaning forwards to attack your neck with kisses, a starved man quenching for thirst on this hot day. His lips press kiss after kiss, aggressively sucking and biting, dragging his teeth over your skin like a dog to a bone. He licks over his marks, soothing the broken skin that begins to stain with dark purple hickies, relishing in each whimper.

His hands curve over your ass and around your thighs till they greet your desperate cunt, constraining against the soaking barricading material. “So fucking wet already..so desperate you don’t even care we’re in public, do you?”

Your hips jut seek the friction and filling you badly crave, burying yourself in the crook of his neck whimpering. “Please, Matty-“

He coos mockingly, “yeah you want me to finger fuck you out in the open? That greedy cunt needs to sit on something, doesn’t it?”

His fingers drag teasingly, rubbing up the middle of your cunt over your damp panties, a softness that has your thighs twitching. He smirks, pressing another hungry kiss to your neck, a hand still caressing your hair, making him look like a tentative boyfriend comforting his sleepy girlfriend.

He slips his fingers under the fabric nipping at your ear, he exhales a shaky groan at the wetness that greets him. His fingers press up, delving into the warmth and he tightens his hold on your head, keeping your face smashed in his shoulder, quietening your sultry moans. No matter how many times he does this, his heart races in excitement and desire at how your sweet pussy clenches, squeezes down like a filthy slut on whatever enters it.

“That’s a good girl, now don’t move those fucking hips.” He thrusts his finger repeatedly, the small stretch still making you lose your mind, the heated concept of being fingered publicly, but still subtly hidden from anyone’s wondering eyes. One is not enough, you're craving more, desperate to be filled, stuffed and you ignore him grinding your hips.

He bites the shell of your ear, causing a squeal out of you. It’s a clear warning as he tries to remain inconspicuous, not wanting the fun to be over. “Keep that up and I’ll have your cumming so hard you'll get everyone's attention. you'd like that huh? want them to see how pathetically you're grinding on me, how fucking desperate you are?"

With burning cheeks, you feel thankful you remain tucked in the nook of his neck as his threat pulls a needy whine and you instantly still your hips despite how achy you are. Though Mattheo always one to be a cheeky shit, adds another finger and rubs your clit, testing your limits. He loves the way you're keeping your head down, and only he can hear the frantic, lewd moans spilling directly into his ear.

You’re too perfect, the way he’s caressing your back with a hold that stables you and your hips from moving. He can feel how restless you're becoming, his fingers getting soaked in a sloppy mess, hungrily thrusting in and out of your tight pussy. “You’re close, aren’t you baby?” He whispers so sweetly to you, but these a taunt underlying and it makes you squeeze his digits harder. He chuckles breathlessly, “oh you want it so bad don’t you, yeah gonna cum all over my fingers like the filthy girl you are.”

His fingers decrease their speed on your needy clit when you don’t answer and you lift your head. The sight is heavenly, big weepy blown eyes gaze at him with scrunched brows and parted lips that breathe hot sinful air inhaling straight onto his lips. He groans, biting his lips, “F-fuck you’re such a mess. A beautiful mess.”

The flushness of your cheeks and pleading look makes him want to give you everything you need. The desire within himself growing and his cock twitches achingly, and his determination to bring you every ounce of pleasure grows. He cups the back of your head capturing your lips in another steamy kiss, increasing the pace of his fingers, he rubs maddening circles on your clit.

You moan, tears threatening to fall as you kiss him lustfully, feeling your hips buck your orgasm rising rapidly. Breathless broken whimpers become muffled against his swollen lips as you tip over the edge, and you cum with two deathly grips, one on his arm and the other that rip the grass from its roots.

Mattheo's lips soften, continuing to take your breath away in his ability to switch from feral to sweet. His hold on your hair relaxes, soothingly patting you as if to praise a dog, his good girl. He removed his fingers, pulling them back out into the open. He pulls back to let you breathe, and he groans satisfyingly, replaces the taste of your lips with something sweeter. 

Masterlist

[riddlesbunny]

out of the woods

summary: The war is over and Rhaenyra’s daughter gets a fresh start in The North.

pairing: Cregan x Targaryen!Reader

word count: 842

warnings: Description of pain & childbirth, grief, RIP Jace <\3

note: Sooo……. It appears that I’m in Cregan Simp Mode

It is a brighter day than usual when your labors start. The sun even begins to peak behind the clouds, casting a gorgeous gleam over Winterfell. It has been six months since the civil war between your family has ended and it seems as though the smoke-like grief that clouds your mind is finally beginning to clear. After all of your pain and suffering, you are now far away from Dragonstone and even farther away from King’s Landing. As your younger brother sits the Iron Throne, you have a hope for a peaceful realm. As well as hope that you and Cregan will finally be able to start anew.

Things are different in Winterfell, especially now that the dance has ended. There is no pressure for your babe to have silver hair or violet eyes. No pressure for it to be born with a cock. All that matters is that the babe is healthy. Your child will not suffer the same hardships as you and your siblings once did.

You can hear heavy footsteps outside of the chamber as Cregan paces restlessly. While you endure another hour of labor, you try to keep your mind elsewhere. Your gaze is fixed on the flicker of the candle that sits in the chandelier above your head.

One of your earlier memories is your mother being in labor with Joffrey. You remember wincing at her screams and placing judgement on the names she called her midwives. Now you don’t blame her. You even admire her for going through this so many times. You miss her terribly.

Your hand grips tightly onto the wooden headboard as you try your hardest to listen to the instructions of your midwife.

“Push into the pain,” she advises you, “when the pain is at its worst, that’s when you will want to push the hardest, my lady.”

Your knees are at your chest, a thin layer of sweat covers your entire body, and your once white nightgown is now stained red. You inhale deeply as you brace yourself for another painful contraction.

And just like that, it’s happening again. It begins as a dull ache in your spine that eventually overtakes you completely. It feels as if you were being torn to shreds. Your muscles begin to spasm and each wave of pain is worse than the last.

A particularly loud scream echoes out into the hallway and it has Cregan bursting through the door into the room, his auburn brows furrowed.

“This is not the place for men, my Lord,” your midwife sternly warns him.

“I do not care! What’s happened?”

“Nothing!” you bark at him, your teeth gritted. This is a pain he is unable to comprehend.

“I’m fine, we’re fine. It just hurts. That’s all.”

Cregan frowns at you as he comes to stand at your side.

“My lord—” your midwife tries to interject once again.

“I’m staying.”

He keeps true to his word and remains at your side for the rest of your labor, despite your midwife’s wishes — earning him many dirty looks.

Another painful contraction comes and the pain is mind blowing. But it seems to be the light at the end of the tunnel. You bring your chin down to your chest and push with all of your might. You push as if your life depends on it, because it does.

“That’s it, my lady! Perfect. I can see the babe already, a full head of hair,” she states.

Just when you swear you cannot push anymore, you feel sudden relief and loud cries fill the room.

“It’s a boy,” your midwife declares, and Cregan squeezes onto your hand tightly.

“And he is one healthy pup! With quite the set of lungs!” she adds.

About an hour later, once you are moved from the birthing bed and all cleaned up, you sit in your large bed that you and Cregan share. Your babe is cozily bundled up and suckling at your breast, his tiny gums gnawing at your flesh.

“Do we have a name for him?” Cregan asks you as he comes to take solace beside you, peering down at the tiny babe.

“I’m not quite sure yet,” you reply, your mind still hazy, your heart full, “did you have something in mind?”

“I was thinking… he holds a striking resemblance to your brother. What do you think?”

You glance down at your newborn son. An angelic face matched with tiny wisps of dark hair that threaten to grow into a thick head of curls.

“Oh,” you coo, “yeah… yeah, he does, doesn’t he?”

Cregan smiles widely at you, in a way that makes your heart want to burst right out of your chest.

You and Cregan both held great love for Jacaerys. It was something you bonded over when you were first getting to know one another. After spending so much time with him at the beginning of the dance, Cregan began to care for Jace as if he was a brother of his own.

“So it’s settled then,” he states with pride, “we’ll call him Jacaerys.”

“Jacaerys,” you breathe out in agreement as your husband places as gentle kiss on your forehead.

[chrissssssmut]

PROFESSOR, YOU'RE MINE.

An Yujin x Male Reader feat. Gaeul

(Yandere w/ Smut)

(Note: MY FIRST EVER YANDERE FIC WITH SMUT! Hope y'all enjoy this one! I literally grinded writing this😆)

The halls of Daehwa Girls’ Academy buzzed with hushed whispers and stolen glances whenever Professor (Y/N) passed by. He was an anomaly—young, intelligent, and devastatingly handsome. Unlike the older faculty, he carried himself with effortless confidence, drawing admiration from students who saw him as something more than just a teacher.

And An Yujin hated that.

From the moment she stepped into his class, she knew she had to be the best—the only one worthy of his praise. But there was one obstacle in her way: Gaeul. No matter how much Yujin tried, no matter how much she studied, Professor (Y/N) always seemed to favor Gaeul’s work. A quiet nod, a subtle smile—recognition that belonged to Yujin and Yujin alone.

She clenched her fists. If he wouldn’t acknowledge her through talent, she would make sure she was the only one left to notice.

A Week Later – Empty Classroom 4-B

Gaeul stepped inside cautiously, her phone buzzing with the last message she received from Yujin.

"Meet me in 4-B. I need your help with something."

She barely had time to react before a sharp, searing pain bloomed in her stomach. Her breath hitched, a choked gasp escaping her lips as she staggered back. Yujin stood before her, gripping the handle of a small knife, eyes gleaming with something twisted.

Gaeul tried to scream, but her strength faded fast.

“Shh,” Yujin cooed, catching her before she could collapse. “You’re not dying. I was careful.”

Careful.

Yujin’s touch was deceptively gentle as she dragged Gaeul’s limp body to a chair, tying her up securely. By the time she was done, Gaeul could barely lift her head. Blood soaked her uniform, the pain sharp but numbed by weakness.

Yujin hummed, grabbing Gaeul’s phone.

"Professor, can you meet me in 4-B? I need help with a lesson."

Send.

Now, all she had to do was wait.

Professor (Y/N)’s Perspective:

He entered Classroom 4-B expecting to see Gaeul waiting with a notebook in hand. Instead, he was met with a horrifying sight.

Gaeul sat in the middle of the room, tied to a chair, blood staining her uniform. A note was pinned to her chest.

"This is what happens if other students try to be better than me."

His blood ran cold. He recognized that handwriting instantly.

“Yujin…”

Before he could move, a sharp pain exploded in the back of his head. His vision blurred, the world tilting before everything went black.

Unknown Room

(Y/N) groaned, his head throbbing as he came to. The air was thick, suffocating. He was seated against a chair, his wrists bound. In front of him, Gaeul remained tied up, barely conscious.

He struggled, looking around.

“Gaeul! Can you hear me?”

She barely stirred.

Panic set in. He had to get them out. He had to—

Click.

The door creaked open, and there she was.

An Yujin.

A knife glinted in her hand as she walked toward them, a smile stretching across her face.

“Professor,” she sighed, eyes shining with adoration. “I was worried you’d sleep forever.”

(Y/N) gritted his teeth. “Let Gaeul go.”

Yujin pouted. “I can’t do that. She’s the problem, isn’t she? Always stealing your attention. Always taking what's supposed to be mine.”

She trailed the knife along Gaeul’s collarbone, pressing just hard enough to break skin. A thin line of crimson dripped down her chest.

Gaeul whimpered weakly.

“Stop it!” (Y/N) shouted, struggling against his restraints.

Yujin ignored him, her eyes soft yet chilling. “Tell me, Professor. Who’s your favorite student?”

(Y/N) froze.

“This is insane—”

Yujin slashed Gaeul’s chest again, the cut shallow but cruel. A strangled cry left Gaeul’s lips before Yujin struck her across the face, silencing her.

“Try again,” Yujin said, her voice eerily sweet. “Who do you love more?”

(Y/N) swallowed hard.

If he didn’t answer, Gaeul wouldn’t survive.

"...You."

Yujin’s breath hitched. She stilled, as if replaying his words in her mind.

“Say it again.”

(Y/N) clenched his jaw, feeling sick.

“You’re my favorite student.”

Silence. Then—Yujin exhaled shakily, her grip on the knife loosening.

“I knew it,” she whispered, a giggle slipping past her lips. “I knew you felt the same way.”

She turned to Gaeul, patting her cheek mockingly. “You heard him, didn’t you? He chose me.”

(Y/N) looked away, unable to bear the way Gaeul’s body trembled.

Yujin stepped forward, pressing a hand against his cheek.

"Now, Professor," she murmured, brushing his hair back tenderly. "Let’s take you somewhere special."

She tugged him up, leading him away from Gaeul’s barely conscious form.

“Yujin—please—”

“Hush,” she whispered, pressing a finger to his lips. “We’ll be so happy together.”

The last thing he saw before the door shut was Gaeul slumped in the chair, her eyes dull and unfocused.

Then, darkness swallowed him whole.

And An Yujin had him all to herself.

(Y/N) stirred, his body aching as he slowly regained consciousness. The air was different—warmer, suffocatingly intimate. He wasn’t in the cold, empty classroom anymore. This place felt… personal.

His wrists were no longer bound to a chair, but to something softer. A bed.

His heart pounded.

The dim glow of a lamp bathed the room in soft light. The walls were decorated with photographs—him, taken in secret. Candid shots from class, stolen moments in the library, even a picture from when he first joined **Daehwa Girls’ Academy.**

Everywhere he looked, he saw himself.

And sitting beside him, watching with unsettling devotion, was **An Yujin.**

She was no longer in her school uniform. Instead, she wore a loose white blouse, slightly unbuttoned, revealing the curve of her collarbone. Her legs were bare, crossed elegantly as she twirled a knife between her fingers.

"You’re awake," she murmured, setting the knife aside. "I was starting to think I hit you too hard."

(Y/N) tensed, pulling at his restraints. His wrists were tied to the headboard, his ankles bound just enough to restrict movement.

"Yujin," he said, forcing his voice to remain calm. "Let me go."

She tilted her head, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

"But why would I do that?" She leaned closer, her fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. "You finally belong to me, Professor."

(Y/N) flinched at her touch, and Yujin giggled. "Still resisting? You’re so stubborn…"

Her hands drifted lower, ghosting over his shirt, which was now unbuttoned halfway. He didn’t even remember when she had done that.

His breathing grew uneven. "Yujin—"

She hushed him, pressing a finger to his lips. "I know you’re confused, maybe even scared. But I promise, I’ll take care of you."

Her fingers danced down his chest, her nails raking lightly against his skin. The sensation sent a shiver down his spine—whether from fear or something else, he didn’t know.

"You don’t need to think about anything else," she whispered, her lips dangerously close to his ear. "Just focus on me."

(Y/N) clenched his fists, trying to steady himself.

This wasn’t just obsession.

This was possession.

And there was no escaping it.

(Y/N) swallowed hard, his pulse hammering as Yujin’s fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns against his skin.

"You’re trembling," she whispered, her breath warm against his neck. "Are you scared, Professor?"

(Y/N) turned his head away, trying to suppress the shiver running down his spine. "Yujin… this isn’t right."

She only smiled, sliding onto his lap, her weight pressing down just enough to remind him how powerless he was. "No," she murmured, tilting his chin back to meet her gaze. "This is perfect."

The soft fabric of her blouse brushed against his exposed skin, her fingers teasing the buttons of his already loosened shirt. Yujin moved with a slow, dangerous confidence, her touch hovering just above where he was most vulnerable.

"You’ve always belonged to me," she continued, her voice sweet yet laced with something darker. "You just didn’t realize it."

(Y/N) gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the way his body reacted to her warmth, her scent—something intoxicating and inescapable.

Yujin noticed.

She giggled, pressing closer, her lips brushing against his ear. "You can lie with your words, but your body tells the truth."

Her fingers trailed lower, dangerously close, testing his restraint.

(Y/N) exhaled sharply, his wrists tugging against the restraints. "Yujin—"

She silenced him with a kiss.

It wasn’t soft or hesitant—it was possessive, demanding, her lips molding against his with desperate hunger. She bit down lightly on his lower lip, drawing a gasp from him before pulling back, her eyes dark with satisfaction.

"You taste even better than I imagined," she purred, running her thumb over his lips.

(Y/N) breathed heavily, his mind clouded with frustration, shame, and something he refused to name.

Yujin leaned in again, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down his jaw, his neck, savoring every reaction.

"You’re mine now, Professor," she whispered against his skin. "And I’ll make sure you never forget it."

Yujin traces her fingers down on his body, eventually reaching his cock. Yujin pulls it out of his boxers and lubricates it with her own spit, covering the entire cock with nothing but her own saliva and (Y/N)’s pre-cum.

“God, I never knew you were this big, Professor..” she whispered.

“So eager for me…” she added.

(Y/N) tries to pull away from her but his own body betrays him.

Yujin, without hesitation, strips off her own clothes, revealing her gorgeous body and her wet, glistening entrance.

Yujin lowers herself on to (Y/N), taking him inch by inch, stretching out her aching pussy. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip, a teasing glint in her eyes as she let it slip free, swollen and tempting.

“Fuck… you're so big Professor… I can't believe I almost let Gaeul have this all for herself.” she mouthed.

Yujin, with an all-consuming need, she moved in a rhythm both possessive and unrelenting.

“Yujin… this is wro-.... Ah fuck…” (Y/N) groaned.

“No professor, this is perfect. This is how we are supposed to be. I want every fucking drop of your cum Professor.” She muttered, her words sending (Y/N) closer to climax.

“Breed me Professor… I want all of your fucking cum in me!” she exclaimed, her eyes filled with determination and malicious intent.

She took charge, her touch both commanding and intoxicating, leaving no room for hesitation.

(Y/N) own body betrayed him. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to be fucking the person who almost tried to end his life, let alone his own dear student.

Each movement of Yujin’s child bearing hips made him closer to the edge.

“Yujin, I'm close.” (Y/N) mouthed, slowly trying to pull out of Yujin's entrance.

“NO! FUCKING CUM INSIDE!” Yujin exclaimed, her grip tight on (Y/N) and her weight pressing down on him. She dominated the moment, each fast, deliberate movement a reminder of who was in control.

She silenced (Y/N) with a kiss. A kiss that wasn't filled with love and care, but of lust and possessiveness.

And with a final thrust in Yujin, (Y/N) pumped his warm cum inside of Yujin’s needing pussy, both of them groaning.

(Y/N) lay still, his body exhausted, his wrists sore from where the restraints had dug into his skin. The air was thick, heavy with the aftermath of what had just happened. His mind raced, trying to process everything, but the warmth beside him was inescapable.

Yujin curled against his side, her bare skin pressed intimately against his. Her fingers lazily traced patterns over his chest, a satisfied hum escaping her lips as she nestled closer.

“You’re quiet, Professor,” she murmured, her voice dripping with amusement. “Are you still trying to convince yourself this didn’t happen?”

(Y/N) turned his head away, his jaw clenched.

Yujin giggled, pressing a lingering kiss to his shoulder. “You can try to deny it, but your body already belongs to me.”

(Y/N) remained silent. Fighting her felt pointless now. She had taken everything—his control, his resistance, his dignity. And worst of all… part of him had given in.

Yujin propped herself up on one elbow, studying his face with a look of pure satisfaction. “You look so defeated,” she cooed, brushing his damp hair back. “But don’t worry… this is just the beginning.”

His stomach twisted.

She smiled sweetly, but there was something sinister beneath it—something final. “I won’t let you go, Professor. Ever.”

(Y/N) exhaled shakily, realizing the truth.

He wasn’t leaving this place.

Not today.

Not ever.

And Yujin? She would make sure of that.

Forever.

[melshifting]

(un)necessary extras to script p.2!

#01～ Your size is always in stock when you buy clothes. You don't have to search through racks, or be disappointed: the perfect size is always waiting for you.

#02～ When listening to music on shuffle, your playlist always seems to know exactly what song you need to hear next.

#03～ Your laces never untie themselves when you walk, no matter how loosely or tightly you tie them.

#04～ Your socks never mysteriously disappear when you wash them. Each pair remains intact, always matching and never stretched or misshapen

#05～ Leftovers always taste just as good (or better) the next day. Nothing is dry, soggy, or tasteless after reheating.

#06～ Your jewelry never tarnishes, discolors, or stains to that strange green color; everything you wear always looks new.

#07～ Your passwords will always be safe and easy for you to remember, no need to write them down or constantly reset them.

#08～ You never accidentally bite the inside of your cheek while eating - no painful mid-meal surprises...

#09～ You always pick the freshest produce without even trying - no more pounding on watermelons and avocados, it's like your hands know.

#10～ Your sheets always stay in place, no matter how much you toss and turn in bed (no waking up to a half-naked mattress at 3 am lol).

#11～ No matter how fast you walk or what activity you're doing, your socks never slip inside your shoes.

#12～ You never feel that uncomfortable static discharge when you touch a door handle/car/another person.

#12～ When you wear white, you never stain. Drinks, sauces, even pens… nothing ends up staining your clothes.

#13～ No matter how tangled your necklaces are, you can detach them in seconds without frustration - they simply fall apart on their own.

#14～ Even if you forget to charge your earbuds, they have enough battery for one last use when you really need them.

#15～ Your headphones never fall out, no matter how much you move. They simply stay attached without causing discomfort.

#16～ You never get a bad haircut - somehow, your hairdresser always understands what you mean and you always leave happy.

#17～ Your phone charger never mysteriously stops working, it always charges instantly.

#18～ Your wifi never crashes at the worst moments. Streaming, gaming, video calls… always without problems or sudden disconnections.

#19～ Your perfume/cologne remains throughout the day, but never overwhelmingly: it's just the right amount of scent at just the right times.

#20～ You don't experience the horror of biting into something expecting it to be sweet and it turns out salty (or vice versa).

#21～ No matter how chaotic your closet is, you always find the exact garment you're looking for in seconds.

#22～ You never have that frustrating moment when you almost sneeze but don't. When it happens, it happens.

#23～ Whenever you need to tie your hair back, you have a scrunchie at hand. Whether in your pocket, purse, or even on your wrist, you never struggle to find one.

[usedpidemo]

Filmic (fromis_9 Chaeyoung, Nagyung, & Jiheon)

The first ripple is what you see: the waves of smooth flesh sending shocks throughout her body. Her nails digging into the sheets, her muscles shaking as it struggles to stay on all fours.

The second is what you feel: the tightness of her cunt as it pulses against your throbbing cock, overriding every other thought. Your hands deeply burrowing into her pale skin, trying to maintain some semblance of control, all while you try your best to make yourselves look good in front of the poorly setup camera under a dimly lit bedroom.

No wonder you can’t get it right the first time; you just can’t. 

—————

It’s never as easy as it looks. You can’t simply go through the motions like with any other job. And to be fair, it isn’t exactly your fault: you can blame Chaeyoung for having a tight ass and pussy.

No matter how many times you fuck her, no matter how many positions you put her in, the end result remains the same: one take just isn’t enough. No amount of practice and experience can ever prepare you for just how tight she is, how close she gets you on the initial entry, and how each thrust is like driving a stake through your loins. She feels so good that it’s unbearable.

It doesn’t help that she’s quite the mouthful in bed. 

“Ah—oh my God—yes—” she mindlessly drones on, delivering her demand in comically overexaggerated fashion that you have no clue whether it’s all part of the act or Chaeyoung being Chaeyoung. Same goes for how she backs her ass against your hips, making sure you fill her to the hilt. “Hm—fuck me with that big ass fucking cock—oh fuck—”

To her credit, she’s quite the natural in taking it all. The push and pull of your bodies against each other is enough to generate its own center of gravity. If this were simply a one night stand, you’d already be more than satisfied, but to be her partner, her fuckbuddy—you couldn’t have asked for a better job, even if by all accounts, you’re not doing particularly well right now.

As her ass bounces against your cock, the arch of her back and every ripple caught on camera, she’s putting on quite the show. On the other hand, you’re struggling to keep up, gripping her waist as you pound to her pace, only to find the knot in your stomach burning brighter and hotter. It’s a mistake that comes with the package of having to fuck such a tight, godly woman like Chaeyoung. Slaps of skin rubbing against skin fill the space between thrusts, complemented by the echoes of her whiny cries reaching to the ceiling—

And you’re asking yourself, what sane person—hell what degenerate—even gets off to this shit. Then you look at what's right in front of you. There’s your answer.

“Christ—you’re gonna make me fucking cum—oh my fucking God—” Chaeyoing whines, tossing her dark hair around, so off-putting, you almost lose grip at how unexpected she is.  “Keep fucking that big dick in me—”

You can only respond in deep grunts and frantic breaths, straightening what little resolve you have to at least do your part. Keeping your gaze fixated on the tremble, the little jiggle of her shapely ass, your cock entering and exiting, getting wetter with each slam, staining her sheets—

“Gonna cum for you, baby,” you mumble, biting your lower lip, closing your eyes, trying to stretch moments into hours. “Gonna fucking cum—”

Here’s the thing about Chaeyoung: you don’t have a say when it comes to how long you last, because she dictates it for you. And the moment passes by so quickly, you’re left more blueballed than satisfied. 

You don’t remember the last time you’ve spent longer than five minutes inside her, but it certainly won’t happen tonight. Not while you’re violently throbbing, gasping for air holding your dick as it pulses inside her creamy cunt before you painfully draw it back. Blasting around the entrance of her core, hot and heavy, cumming all over her ass. Her body takes it—as in, effortlessly sucks up your cum, her skin glistening so bright it’s almost blinding. Your only respite is watching it slowly drip down her thighs and onto the sheets.

As the aftermath of your orgasms wash over you both and pass, Chaeyoung rolls onto her back and out of bed. Like you weren’t aggressively pounding into her and tearing into her foundations mere minutes ago. She limps toward the camera, still filming you, before she stops the recording. Checking through the reel, she shows you the footage. Watching yourself go hard into her, your mind can only focus on the noises you’re making, the stark contrast in tones. She laughs; you cringe.

“Wanna go at it again?” she asks you, drawing out a bottle of lube from the bedside drawer, eager to spread it all over herself—and to spread on all fours once more. 

Hand on your beating chest, you tilt up to the ceiling, exhausted, doing something only a rare few on this planet would ever try to Chaeyoung, even though it’s your primary purpose: “How about we get out of bed and go to work?”

—————

Several floors down her apartment building is where your day job lies: a seemingly innocuous bar. The place is usually empty during weekdays, so you barely spend time ‘working’ there, but the weekends are when business picks up.

To be fair, you can hardly call it a job; you co-run the place, but you’re mostly there to serve customers and play matchmaker, most of which happen to be pretty women. It helps that Chaeyoung also hangs out most of the day to entice people inside, giving herself fresh material to work with.

And she sells. 

You’re already sure of what it is, before she even shows her phone, and wouldn’t you know it: it’s the 14th straight video of her back dripping with cum from her latest client, with nausea-inducing shaky cam included. Doing it with you on the side wasn’t enough; Chaeyoung has to get her daily fill from desperate men who have all the money to throw around, or desperate loners to find some temporary companionship. Perhaps both. They get to fuck a hot woman, she gets paid big bucks. It’s a win-win for all parties involved.

You see the large, burning red blot covering most of her ass. It tells you everything.

A quick glance away from her proud look and you see a guy scrambling out of the restroom with a hand between his pants, tissue barely hanging on his fingertips.

Yep. That’ll do.

Back to the stats: it’s another hit. It hasn’t even been 5 hours and her latest post has over half a million views and just as many likes from her subscribers. She’s running up her numbers, and she’s telling you how she’ll make millions in less than a year. You’ve crunched the numbers, and she’s right: you call it anal-ytics, and she just punches you in the arm. Your interpretation of comedy is radically different from hers (and unfortunately, she doesn’t appreciate your sense of humor).

“You should really get on,” Chaeyoung tells you, proudly showing you post after post, every thumbnail almost indistinguishable from one another: each a still frame of her heart-shaped ass. Almost every video has three million views or more, even if none of them pass the five minute mark. Same goes for her pictures. She can post a picture of any of her body parts and it’ll make money. “It’s really tough in this economy, you know? For you, it’ll be light work, just like fucking me.”

“Easy for you to say, Miss ‘I can’t be assed to work a real job so lemme whore out for some cash’ Chaeyoung.” You’re saying this, knowing full well you’re no better than her. 

“Look who’s talking, Mister ‘BIG-1, the number two male pornstar in Korea.’ How’d you end up paying for this bar and every food truck you send to your co-stars? Hm?”

As expected, the rebuttal is brutally honest. You’ve got no counter to that.

But see, the experience has become so numbing: it’s not as easy to get the complete satisfaction of fucking a girl these days, no matter how hot they are. No matter if they’ve got the thickest ass or the biggest tits on the planet. It also doesn’t help that you’re in Chaeyoung’s ass almost every other day when you’re not ‘working.’ At some point, the law of diminishing returns has come to take its dues.

Before the two of you can continue to bicker back and forth, the entrance door bell chimes, and in comes a familiar face, bringing her share of books and laptop with her. 

“Hey. Don’t mind if I brought a friend with me today,” Jiheon says to the four people inside the bar. Trailing right behind her is a fresh face to your small circle. And like most of your guests, she’s undeniably pretty. A face worth plastering on magazine covers and billboards.

There’s a common ground that you and Chaeyoung can stand on. Now you’ve both got some ideas in mind. Fresh blood is much needed around here.

“I’ll have the usual,” Jiheon says out loud, as if everyone recognizes that she’s a regular—which she is. Her partner has been unusually quiet, only mumbling to her with a hand around her face. “My friend will have the best seller,” she shouts right after, essentially acting as her friend’s mouthpiece.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the place, Chaeyoung is goading you into making the first move. “I did the last one. Your turn.”

You lift an eyebrow, hesitant. “Don’t think she’ll want to talk to me—or anyone for that matter.”

“Since when has that ever stopped you?” she replies. You’d assume that Chaeyoung would be more than willing to talk, considering these two are friends and have some knowledge around the industry. Nope—she’s protecting herself by using you as a shield if it falls apart. “Plus, that’s Jiheon. She’ll make anyone open up. Better than me, even.”

Begrudgingly, you concede. Walking over to the counter, you get their drinks. That’s how you get customers to stay for more: by making them feel welcome and making their experience personal. Jiheon’s too focused on her laptop to care at the moment, while her friend is on her phone, quietly scrolling. Shifting in her seat, shaken and uncomfortable, seemingly looking for an excuse to see herself out.

“Thanks,” Jiheon eventually notices, adjusting her glasses. “So—how’s it been?”

“Not much, really,” you reply, “And you?”

“Same. You know how it is.” She’s clicking through what appears to be some form of academic document. You’re so used to seeing Jiheon in uniform for all the wrong reasons that you tend to forget that she’s an actual student outside of the internet. Then again, she’s hardly on social media, with months between posts. “God, research is so boring. I just wanna go full-time with work.”

“Right?” You chuckle, trying to get through her so you can get to her friend, quietly sipping on her drink. Jiheon’s beverage has been hardly touched. “So—who’s your friend here? She’s new.”

Looking up from the laptop screen, she stares directly at you before turning to her shy friend. “Oh, yeah. This is Nagyung. Nakko, this is a friend of mine,” she says, encouraging her to shake hands, which you both do respectfully.

“Nagyung? As in, the actress? Lee Nagyung?”

“Mhm,” she nods, her first spoken word and hopefully many more to come. That explains her quiet and unusual behavior; she doesn’t want to be found and spotted in public. She’s had a few supporting roles here and there, got some awards, and her face is easily recognizable, even if she hasn’t completely broken into the mainstream. How you didn’t catch on right away is a mystery to you.

“Relax. Like I said, he’s a close friend of mine, and this place generally doesn’t get a lot of people, so I like studying here,” Jiheon reassures Nagyung, and she does mostly calm down, albeit still a little tense and jittery. “So—what’s up?”

“Well, you see—”

“Hi! I’m a huge fan of your work in Shadow Beauty,” interjects Chaeyoung out of nowhere, pushing you aside to energetically shake both of Nagyung’s hands. What little goodwill you’ve built between you, gone in an instant. She’s smiling awkwardly, clearly on edge by her manic energy. You’re surprised Chaeyoung can even name one drama she’s starred in, even if that’s what got her on the map. “You know you’d be quite the face in po—”

“Wait.” You immediately cover Chaeyoung’s mouth with your hand, resisting her effort to fight through it and speak her truth. Pulling her aside, you blurt out to Jiheon and Nagyung you’ll return to them in a moment before distancing yourselves to speak in private.

“What the hell?” you question Chaeyoung, pouring out your newfound frustration. “She was just getting comfortable y’know? You can’t just come in and yap up a storm. Not everyone is like that.”

She looks at you with a baffled gaze. Like this is normalized behavior. Like you should expect this to happen with every new person you two meet. “Dunno, she seemed quite into me.”

And you fire a blank-eyed stare back, in complete disbelief at her interpretation. “You can’t be fucking serious right now.”

“Maybe.”

You can only shake your head and sigh—exasperated.

“I’m just saying. Maybe she knows,” says Chaeyoung, in what appears to be an attempt at sounding optimistic. “I mean, isn’t Jiheon—”

“Yeah, no. I don’t think so.” You shut her down before the notion even finds ground. While Jiheon also is a star on her own, she’s quiet in her own right to keep her idol side and personal life completely apart. “Let’s not get any ideas right now, especially with her around.”

“Fair enough. But if she even gets the slightest hint, I’m gonna reel her in.”

“Why are you so adamant about putting Nakko onto porn?” you ask, slightly bothered by Chaeyoung’s resolve. It’s almost twisted in a way. “Last time you did that, Saerom—”

“Okay. That may have been a little too fast,” she interrupts, chuckling at the incident that caused Saerom to walk out. You haven’t been in contact with her since. That was several months ago, and not much has changed since then. “But swear to God, I won’t make that mistake again.”

“You better not.”

So you go back out there first, telling Chaeyoung to wait a few minutes before she can rejoin the conversation. Jiheon and Nagyung are talking it up when you suddenly slide back in. 

“Sorry for that,” you interject, putting on your best smile. Like you’re working service for once. Thousands of possible scenarios are playing out in your head, ranging from ideal to the worst. You’re looking at Jiheon first, then turning your attention to Nagyung. “So—Nakko, right? How’s the whole acting gig working out for you?”

She blinks a few times. Looks at Jiheon, who simply lifts her eyebrows and smiles back, shrugging her shoulders. 

“It’s—” she’s pausing, prolonging the last sound of that word. “Fine? I haven’t had any scripts coming in lately. It’s tough. But I’m doing okay.”

“Hm. Well—I know of a few people who can get you some gigs,” you tell her, your confidence shooting through the moon as you haven’t fumbled through your words. “Trust me, I’m an actor too.”

“Really?” Nagyung intently looks at you upon hearing that you’re a fellow actor..

“Let me introduce you to my friend, Chaeyoung. She knows her connections.” You’re looking over your shoulder, anticipating for her to have your back. You’ve got it all rehearsed and practiced in your head. She doesn’t show up. 

Way to kill the momentum. Again. 

“Oh Jesus—Chaeng.”

Chaeyoung finally emerges from behind the wall, more invested on her phone than the situation. “Oh. Sorry, got caught up with a new client,” she casually says, hastily tapping on the screen. “Anyway, are you interested in doing porn?”  

—————

“So you don’t have to show your face?” Nagyung asks, gobsmacked at what Chaeyoung is showing her on the phone. One look at her face tells you she’s trying to make sense of all this to no avail. Jiheon has put aside her homework to help guide her through the process.

“They’re locked behind paywalls, but these do so well that those are basically bonuses,” she replies, proud of showing her ass getting blasted on camera in every single thumbnail. Between her videos and all the illicit content she posts on the regular, she’s got the best of both worlds in quantity and quality. 

“And you don’t get tired of it? Like at all?”

“Nope! I’d say it’s the best job in the world,” she says, making sure Nagyung sees the monthly revenue on her account, in the millions. All on simple five-minute videos and nude body shots. 

“Heoni, tell me you’re not doing this too,” Nagyung looks at her friend, arching an eyebrow, hoping she isn’t playing along.

Jiheon can only shrug her shoulders and flash a gummy smile back.

Nagyung can’t believe it. Both hands on her forehead, her head is gonna explode in light of this revelation. “Oh my fucking God.”

“Well. I figured you wouldn’t take it so well,” says Jiheon, cheeks flustered and red from embarrassment. “I mean, with you being a serious actor and all.”

“I thought you said you were acting too,” replies Nagyung, feeling a little betrayed by her friend from hiding her secret hustle. “Like theater or drama acting in college—or something.”

It’s a good thing the bar is relatively empty right now, because you’re certain every other sane person would have walked out at this point hearing this conversation.

“I do some of that, yeah,” Jiheon tells her, still shrugging her shoulders, flippant. “But nothing compares to being myself on camera, you know? And also, it does pay extremely well. I can vouch.”

Chaeyoung shows her the most viewed pages on the site, even though Nagyung has no intention to look. This is too much for her to comprehend. At the top spot is Jiheon aka creamandheoni, with chaengrang in second place. It isn’t even close; the disparity between them both is about as large as the gap between runner-up and everyone else. They’ve been dominating the rankings over the past several months, even though their content is mostly them being dominated and used over and over again.

Nagyung’s shaking her head in denial, refusing to buy into their attempts at convincing her. There’s no way in any universe does selling their bodies make more money than true, honest-to-God acting. In no way should they be rewarded more for doing less. It’s far too outrageous of a concept to be taken seriously. 

“We’re not bullshitting you, Nakko,” says Jiheon, patting her friend’s back. “If you want firsthand proof, join us tomorrow to see how it works.”

“Why would I want to go to a porn studio?” questions Nagyung, giving Jiheon a judgmental look for even proposing the idea. “And if one paparazzi or fansite  sees me in there? A stray camera? My career will be over before it even starts.”

“It’s a lot more intricate than that,” Jiheon reassures her, her voice a persistent calm in spite of the uncertainty. An admirable feature that makes her a great professional. “It’s almost the same as filming a drama or movie, with just—a few more gratuitous sex scenes.”

The youngest girl blinks. Realizes there’s a lot more than advertised. “Okay. Maybe a lot more sex scenes, actually.”

“God.” Nagyung’s cursing under her breath, vehemently in denial that she might as well cover her ears. 

All of you could sit here and continue convincing Nakko about trying something new. You’re surprised she hasn’t walked out with the repetitive use of arguments. Show her the monthly stats, the paychecks, the follower counts—it isn’t enough. As a new customer walks in, you figure that this was the sign to stop. The lively air in the room quickly changes to brutal awkwardness.  

But after a while, Nagyung finally breaks the silence, sighing. “All right. I’ll go—”

Before she can go on, you can feel the giddiness emanating from Chaeyoung, so infectious that you contract her fresh spark of energy. Jiheon’s smiling.

“—but if I’m not convinced, I won’t do it, and you won’t be able to change my mind.”

That she was finally won over is more than enough of a reason to celebrate. Even if it’s out of kindness for a friend. You can sense by the appalled look on her face that she’s already regretting this. 

—————

And sure enough, Nagyung follows through on her word. Timely and professional, showing up early in the studio. She’s hilariously overdressed, covering herself with a hoodie, sunglasses, and the thickest layers of clothing possible to maintain complete anonymity. 

“This is where you shoot stuff?” Nagyung asks you, the earliest one inside. The other two women, one of which being your on-screen partner today, haven’t arrived yet. It’s a relatively unassuming, normal building, all things considered—not a grimy shithole that she imagined. 

“Yeah. Productions tend to be incredibly cheap, so much so that we tend to reuse everything,” you tell her, matter-of-fact. “For maximum profit, you know? Like a normal studio.”

“I can believe that.”

Looking out into the distance, you see Jiheon running for her life, almost losing grip on her belongings in her haste. She manages to hold on, successfully catching up with both of you at the studio entrance, with her legs being spent at her expense.

“Sorry I’m late,” she huffs, gasping for air, hands on her knees, tired. A look at your schedule tells you she’s actually almost an hour early. “I had a last-minute photoshoot to do, but here I am.”

You wanna tell her the truth, but you don’t. She’s too sweet of a person to break her heart.

On the other hand, Nagyung doesn’t care. “Heoni, filming doesn’t start for another hour.”

“Really? Damn.” Jiheon flashes a defeated look at her friend and you, devastated at her efforts going to complete waste. She laughs the pain away; it’s evident on her face. “Well that’s what happens when you’ve got your schedules all messed up.”

Not long after, you get a message from Chaeyoung telling you she won’t be able to make it on time, leaving you down to three. Another client, she says, meaning she’s gonna spend most of her day getting railed and filming herself for new content. For her, the grind never stops.

So you climb up the elevator together,   the eighth floor is where the magic happens. Passing through a narrow corridor, a nude woman suddenly emerges from one of the production rooms. Her body trembling, she gives you an inviting wink as she walks in the opposite direction. Nagyung looks back, then at you and Jiheon, alarmed that this is a seemingly normal interaction.

The woman walks into one of the bathrooms, her ass swaying hypnotically as you look back. As she completely disappears from view, Nagyung refocuses her attention back to you, baffled. 

“What the hell? Who was that?”

“Oh, Seoyeon?” You chuckle. “We know each other. Most of us.”

“Most of us?”

As you step inside the room at the far end of the corridor, you explain to Nagyung, “Yeah. The girls are the stars here, and us guys trade partners every week.”

“Jesus.” You can sense the regret in Nagyung’s voice. “That’s gross.”

The comment doesn’t faze neither you nor Jiheon; it was a given considering she’s still an outsider. It’s no different than kissing a traditional co-star—mostly.

But moving on to what’s ahead, the film set is already ready, with the production crew making last minute adjustments. The director fixes his glasses, realizes his cast have finally arrived, and he looks tired. The guy looks so done, even though nothing has happened yet. 

“There you guys are,” he comments, noticing the elephant in the room. “And who’s that?”

“Oh, that’s Na—”

Jiheon’s mouth is suddenly stopped by a harsh blow to her ribs courtesy of Nagyung’s elbow. 

“Sorry. I mean—Christine.”

“Well tell them if they’re not a cast or crew, they should kindly buzz off.”

“No, no. She’s here to learn and wants to join at some point.”

“Join?” He shoots back a puzzled look. Taps his foot. No one in the right mind willingly wants to do porn. It’s the lowest of the low, you’ll admit, and there are better ways to find exposure into the greater entertainment industry, especially if you’ve already got one foot inside. If not for your friend’s influence, you’d keep your double life separate too, just like Jiheon. “Hm. I don’t know.”

At the worst possible time, the director has an existential crisis. He’s hesitant to let her in, but at the same time, doesn’t want to kick her out either. Before his head explodes from anxiety, he tells you to head into the dressing room to get ready at once. 

—————

Inside, Nagyung continues to be stunned at how casual everything is between you and Jiheon. That you’re both undressing right in front of each other, at how normalized nudity is, like you’re in your homes and not preparing to film sex in front of cameras and random strangers. The younger woman brought her actual university uniform along because the company can barely afford to film props, and same goes for you—a simple suit and tie. 

“So this is totally normal? Normal for both of you to just do this? No intimate feelings whatsoever?”

Both of you nod back, humming a harmonious mhm in unison.

“Kind of numb to it at this point,” you say, buttoning the last of your shirt. “I mean, there are some feelings, but we’re professionals. It’s all done with consent, obviously.”

Jiheon chuckles, her trademark gummy smile bouncing back through her mirror as she brushes her hair, putting on the finishing touches on her appearance. “It helps that you’ve got such a nice cock.”

Both of you end up laughing heartily, much to Nagyung’s dismay.

“But for real, I trust you more than anyone,” she tells you, walking over to your side to fix your tie properly, playfully slapping your cheeks. “I mean, that and you being the number one male—”

“Right. Not a real achievement.”

“Come on, carry yourself with pride,” Jiheon remarks, repeatedly clapping your face, turning that little frown upside down. “Who else can say they’re the top male porn star in Korea for six months straight?”

Before things get a little more personal, you hear the director calling your names. It's go time.

—————

Nagyung casually sits behind the others on set, keeping her identity concealed, but she easily stands out based on how overdressed she is compared to everyone else. No one can hardly be arsed to dress up on the job, showing the lack of seriousness. They want to get this over with and move on to better, more dignified work.

The director tells you to look into the camera as you’re put into this compromising position; Jiheon bent on the prop desk, her damp underwear in view as you press your bulging pants against her lifted skirt. The job never becomes easy, no matter how much you rehearse. Your co-star, on the other hand, is already having the time of her life; it’s written all over her face. How she wants it. How she badly needs it inside her right now.

Your cock wants her too. The feeling is mutual.

The director checks through the script, which doesn’t matter at all. The story is about as cookie cutter and as generic as anything you’ve seen in theaters lately. She’s the bratty student looking for an out, you’re the teacher with a moral crisis. Of course you’re gonna fold; you don’t need a prompt telling you that you’ll fuck her and bend the rules behind everyone’s back. You’ve seen this movie play out over and over again in different ways. The only difference being that the student is Jiheon. She’s the splitting image of the hot student fantasy that it’s an astonishment this is her first go at the premise.

Ironically, Jiheon follows the script by the book, word for word. You can tell that it’s been written by people whose only experience with sex is through porn and nothing else. If she wanted to, she could genuinely act. There’s something distracting hearing her deliver her lines in a surprisingly professional manner that you flub your cue multiple times. Not to say she’s entirely responsible, but she does contribute quite a bit; you couldn’t be arsed to read yours. So you’ve been winging it, much to your director’s annoyance.

The guy wasn’t expecting to actually direct today. 

“What’s going on, man?” he rages while on the chair, frustrated that you’ve blown your lines eight times. He’s suffering. “Did you even read the script?”

“Mhm,” you tell him, playing down the seriousness of his predicament. The consummate worker she is, Jiheon takes you aside privately for a word as he calls for a quick breather. 

“Something up today?” Jiheon asks you, redirecting your wandering gaze back to her while you search for Nagyung. She has seemingly disappeared between takes.

“I don’t know,” you tell her, unable to figure out the issue yourself. 

“Is it because of Nakko, right?”

“Maybe.”

She looks around the set herself, with Nagyung nowhere to be found. “Well, that’s not what matters right now. If she doesn’t want to, then it is what it is, right?”

You pause for a moment before nodding. “Right.”

A moment later, Nagyung emerges from the dressing room, taking a seat away from everyone else on set. It’s all in your head. The doubt. The unease. Parting in an instant. Like you’ve got something to prove.

So when you go for your ninth take, you feel a completely different person than you were minutes ago. The responses come naturally, even if it’s mostly ad-libs and improvisation. The director keeps it rolling as you effortlessly pace through the nonexistent teasing and pleasantries: commanding Jiheon to drop to her knees and unbuckle your pants like the naughty student she is. 

Even in front of cameras, you can only see her.

The director makes sure your erect cock is in clear view, already dripping with precum. Right on cue, Jiheon looks over her shoulder and looks directly at the camera, wrapping her fingers around your base. A thumbnail worthy shot. She makes sure the sound equipment hears every slurp and hum from her lips when she takes you into her mouth; bobbing her head back and forth as she sucks you dry, making you squirm on the chair.

Grabbing her by the hair, pacing her suction and forcing your cock deep in her throat. Staining her otherwise pristine face and pretty lips with thin streaks of white. Taking slow, passionate licks on your tip, giving herself a taste. Internally, you’re telling yourself you’ll nail this in one take; if you don’t do it now, you won’t do it ever, and no amount of visual effects and post-production can come close to filming that level of authenticity.

You’re not sure whether you’re filming porn or actually going for it at this point.

As more of your cum splatters on her face, Jiheon has your cock gripped in one hand, unbuttoning her shirt with the other. Giving you a blurry glimpse of her cleavage, the ecstasy feels so good that finding focus is nearly impossible. You’re losing it. Meanwhile, the cameras are still rolling, capturing every single detail. Besides the lewd sounds you’re making, the set is eerily quiet, as if they’re letting you both run the show, which you are.

“Yeah—fucking do it—do it baby—” Jiheon rasps, pumping you fast and reckless without concern or consideration, demanding you cum for her. “Come on—give your favorite student what she deserves.”

And quite frankly, you just might.

Thrusting, following her pace, gasping for air, gritting your teeth. As though you’re dangerously close to falling off a cliff. As if her hand wasn’t enough, Jiheon teases you with the faintest touch of her tongue. That needy, thirsty tongue. Tip to tip, squeezing the smallest drop of cum out of your cock, in the lewdest expressions imaginable. She’s putting on quite the show. If you weren’t so preoccupied with keeping yourself together, you’d be disappointed for not keeping up.

The camera absolutely loves Jiheon, that’s for certain. She’s taken to being under the spotlight as easily as putting on shoes: quite effortlessly. All eyes are drawn toward her as she lets it go: pointing your throbbing cock all over her shirt, her bra, and all over her face. She milks you for all your worth; the sensation feels so damn good it hurts. Half her face is painted in your cum, as if her skin can glisten any brighter. And once she finally empties you clean, she licks herself, tastes whatever amount of you she can reach.

If it weren’t for the cameras rolling, you’d pass out right then and there. But there’s still more to do, all in the name of fanservice and views.

As you prop Jiheon on top of the desk, barely able to drag your legs, a quick glimpse of Nagyung tells you everything you need to know. She’s got a hand covering her mouth; you don’t need to see through those sunglasses to sense her shock and disbelief. If only she could walk away now, but she can’t. But before your attention lingers a few moments longer, Jiheon redirects your gaze back to her. Back to what’s important.

You don’t even realize she’s borderline naked, only keeping her stained skirt on her body. Slipping your hand between her legs, you shed her panties down her legs. It’s just as drenched as you expected; there’s no faking it. 

“Smell it,” Jiheon whispers to you, catching you completely off-guard. This wasn’t in the script. You can’t tell whether she’s speaking for herself or if it’s part of the act. Perhaps both.

Before you can even question her, the cameras remind you to stay in character. So you follow. 

Grinning as if she’s caught you in her trap, Jiheon spreads her legs wide, giving you a peek of her soaked pussy. Drawing you like a moth to a flame, you grab her thighs, spread her that extra inch wider, and dive headfirst into her cunt. 

She keens. Her body glued flat to the surface, shaking while your tongue makes work of her slick core. There’s no better place to drown in. The taste is so intoxicating, you can lay in it forever. 

Jiheon lets out these scuffed, disjointed cries of pleasure. Can’t formulate complete sentences, only erratic noises and volumes of profanities. “Fuck—fuck yes—so—so good—mmh—”

All while you’re filling up the room with the sounds of slurping and humming, drowning yourself in the savory nectar of Jiheon’s cunt. The desk begins to rock the rougher and deeper you go, losing yourself in the suffocating sensation of her pussy as her legs close in on your face.

Oh, you’re doing it for real, if there was any doubt.

As Jiheon straightens her knees upward, you can hear her whining grow louder. “Almost there—don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—”

Like you had any intention to. 

“I’m gonna cum—please—it’s so—” 

And Jiheon’s voice cracks before she can finish. Turns into an airy whine as you’re tongue deep in her to care. 

She’s trembling all over when she cums. Turns your face into a canvas, an outlet of her orgasm. A torrent of her juices wash over your face, and you graciously take it all, drowning yourself in her bliss. There’s an authenticity that an intimacy coordinator can’t replicate. Genuine emotions pouring in, of pleasure, of pain, of everything in between. The correct thing to do would be to let it pass organically before moving on.

But of course, the director can’t even do that right.

“Cut!” he yells from his chair, ruining what otherwise would have been a perfect sex scene and continuation. Jiheon’s still in the throes of her peak when the cameras stop rolling, your face still buried deep in her aching core. As you rise up for air, your face is soaked twice over in her slick. Gasping, heaving for much needed air. Another still-worthy image. 

Making Jiheon cum and cumming on her is a reward in and of itself, but still: some positive remark or compliment from the director would have been nice. 

“That was good,” he tells you as the other crew come in to clean up your mess. “But I would have liked a little more dirty talk coming from you. Some degradation, you know? Like maybe calling her a slut, but we can fix that in post. Good work today, guys.”

—————

“So—what do you think?” you ask Nagyung in the dressing room. That one take was all that you did. You and Jiheon are done for the day. At least that’s what you believe.

“I—I don’t—I just—” Nagyung is too stunned to speak. She laughs, because she can’t find the right words to say. The entire time, she had been watching behind her sunglasses, never once removing them. For her eyes and sanity, probably the best decision. “You guys are really fucking crazy.”

“We don’t know what else to tell you,” says Jiheon, calm and casual about the whole thing. Like you didn’t just have sex in front of her for real, despite the film set serving as a backdrop. “I mean—I wished we went through with the penetration, but it is what it is.”

“Thank God you didn’t.” Nagyung remarks, tone sarcastic. “My eyes are gonna need bleach after seeing all that.”

“It’s me, so what I do is honestly tame by comparison,” Jiheon replies, swiveling her chair around, kicking her leg up. “You’ve got girls in threesomes, gangbangs, free use—”

“Okay, we get it.” Nagyung interrupts. “No need to explain any further.”

“But Nakko, wouldn’t you have to do a love scene at some point?” you bounce the notion, using her background as a means to get on equal footing. “I mean, yeah, you’ve got an intimacy coordinator, but—”

She’s quick to shut you down. “I’m not doing a love scene. Not in a million years.”

And you stop talking right then and there.

Nagyung pinches her forehead, stressed out by her internal quandary. You can sense that she doesn’t want to, but can’t say no. It’s palpable through her veins. She’s come at a crossroads with her career. On one hand, there’s opportunities for work and pay, but the implications it could have long term outweigh the short term benefits.

A few minutes of awkward silence follows.

“I don’t have to show my face—right?”

“Nope. Don’t have to,” you answer.

“Your voice though,” Jiheon says, concerned about her friend’s future too. “Your face can easily be masked, but your voice—”

“Yeah, I know,” replies Nagyung, deeply exhaling. “But—I’d rather do everything now and regret it later than not doing anything at all.”

“But your career—” Jiheon is alarmed by her friend’s sudden change of heart.

“Maybe no one recognizes me through my voice and I can moonlight like you do,” says Nagyung. “If it’s a flop, then at least I don’t have to do any more,” she tells her. “I want to test myself. See how far I can go.”

Jiheon takes a look at Nakko before turning to you. You’ve been convinced since she asked that first question. You’re only waiting for her.

You nod. And that’s what finally puts Jiheon at peace.

“Okay.” Jiheon rises from her seat, smiling. “Looks like we’re doing this. No regrets?”

Nagyung smiles back. “No regrets.”

—————

“Shit—oh fuck—oh shit—” Jiheon pants, her suffocating legs wrapped around yours while you pound her against the wall with running water washing down both your drenched, tangled bodies. “Keep going—I need this—need you—fuck!”

The feeling is mutual. Turns out, you can’t get your much needed satisfying orgasms when you’re in front of cameras. Some things are better behind closed doors and between two people alone.

The showers in the studio aren’t designed for quick clean ups; they’re an outlet. A conduit for co-stars to get their proper climaxes in when the cameras aren’t rolling. They’re designed to be as loud and proud as possible. It’s all the more evident when your moans are bouncing off the walls in thunderous, shattering echoes. Not even the running water can cover your tracks. Anyone in close proximity to the bathrooms can hear you. It’s the perfect place to unwind after any filming day.

“So—fucking—embarassing,” you tell Jiheon, more a shot at yourself than a comment about how needy she is. It comes with the package when it comes to shooting porn; something about fucking your partners in private ticks those marks compared to doing it in front of a professional crew. “Can’t believe you made me cum so fucking much—”

“Isn’t that the point?” she whispers back, her nails clawing down, taking lease of your back. Between moans, her body trembles wildly with each thrust you give her. Burying your cock deep inside her needy cunt with each stroke. You give her more of a reason to cling to you. “But maybe—maybe—” she stammers, her head drowning in so much ecstasy that she goes tongue tied. “Maybe—I should have let go sooner—”

Pumping Jiheon at an erratic rhythm, your hips gained a second wind after that much needed respite after filming. Struggling to capture her lips, you barely kiss her. “You can now. Fucking cum for me. Christ—”

The sound of flesh slapping flesh ripples through the room, overpowering even the continuous shower noise. You’re fucking her like you’ve got something to prove. Using her cunt liberally, her walls pulsing tightly against your throbbing cock, quickly burning through what little resolve you have built up. Try as hard as you can, the knot in your stomach lingers and lingers, slowly flooding your head, until you have no other choice—

It all comes crashing down. 

Jiheon melts in your arms, barely hanging on for dear life. The orgasm washes over her in turbulent ripples, shuts her up in an instant. Mouth hung wide, head tilted up for you to rest your head on her neck, moaning these sweet profanities that are music to your ears. She cums all over your cock, urging you to follow her right after—which you do.

The way you cum so soon, it makes you second guess why you’re in this position to begin with. It doesn’t match your best male KAV pornstar title. Nevertheless, you fill her, give her what she’s been fiending for the longest time. It makes the entire ordeal worth it.

You stay in Jiheon a bit longer. A lot longer than you internally promised. Even as your cock withers, you keep yourself buried with what little you have, letting your orgasms pass over quietly. Resting underneath the shower, your bodies entangled like pieces of a puzzle meant for each other, your lips meet halfway in an intimate, delicate kiss.

So maybe you’re starting to catch some feelings. But before it blossoms into something more, Jiheon breaks off the smooch, grinning against your face. She’s flustered all over; she feels the same way.

“I thought you needed help getting hard again,” she remarks, as her fingers push on your lower lip.

Blinking a few times, you reply, “You didn’t help anyway whatsoever.”

She laughs, smilingly cuddling against you before going in for another passionate kiss.

—————

A week later, you’re back in the studio, this time together with Chaeyoung and Jiheon in what’s basically a pornographic blockbuster. The two biggest female stars and the top male star in an internet-breaking film. Your careers have been building toward this moment. Hell, in a rare act of restraint, you decide to abstain from your regular escapades to prepare for this. Inside the dressing room, there’s a little predicament: Chaeyoung’s having a little fit about taking cum head on, because she doesn’t want to mess up her makeup and hair apparently. She’s spoken to the director about changing the scene multiple times to no avail. She’s frustrated. The ironic thing is: she’s the one who’s been talking about it nonstop. So this sudden change of heart comes off as strange and unusual.

“How about I do it?” Jiheon steps in, seeing the frenzied, panicked state Chaeyoung is in. She’s walking back and forth, close to pulling her extensions off, possibly making a bigger mess of herself more than what you’re about to do. “Is it this serious for you to back out last minute, Chaeng?”

“Yes,” Chaeyoung yells at her, making sure everyone hears her desperate plight. “I’ve got a client tonight, and he’s apparently a chaebol, so—”

“I thought you weren’t taking any clients today,” Jiheon says. Even this shoot is that important of an occasion to skip escorting—at least only for today. Apparently not. 

“It’s not often you get a million dollar payday,” Chaeyoung remarks, looking at herself in the mirror, examining every single detail about her. You can sense that she’s itching to leave at the earliest possible opportunity.

“Is it gonna hurt you to tell him that you can delay the meeting for tomorrow?” Jiheon asks, only to immediately realize the answer she’ll give. “Oh yeah—”

“It will.” Both Chaeyoung and Jiheon speak synchronously. 

Suddenly, you enter the dressing room, catching their attention. “Good news, Chaeng. I’ve gotten them to change the scene.”

Before you can say another word, Chaeyoung breathes out a needed sigh of relief, while Jiheon shakes her head. “Thank God,” Chaeyoung says, rubbing a hand on her chest. “So—what now?”

“Told me to come up with a scene,” you tell her. “And I’ve got an idea.”

—————

You can barely hear the director’s echoes from underneath Chaeyoung’s supple ass. Her butt almost fully presses on your face, cutting off most of your sensory functions. You need Chaeng and Jiheon to relay the question for you to fully understand.

“He’s asking if you can finish in this position,” Chaeyoung shouts, while you can barely breath down here. 

“What a ridiculous question,” you’re mumbling to yourself, as if anyone can even hear you right now, while you’re basically dying. To make matters worse, Jiheon’s squatting down on your cock, already buried in her cunt as a sort of unfinished business, sequel baiting move from last week’s session. The two girls are facing each other, all of you already in the nude. Even though you’ve been on-screen for half the runtime, this is their show, and you’re merely a glorified stage prop.

The only reason you can move is because of the grind of Chaeyoung’s ass, which is basically the stand-in for the director yelling action!

If only you can see what’s up there. How hot it would be to see Chaeyoung and Jiheon making out and caressing each other’s bodies. You know that’s what’s happening because you can hear the sound of muffled hums and gentle kisses. Even without your presence, this one scene alone would singlehandedly break the internet. The two top Korean pornstars fucking is about as surefire of a hit as any theatrical blockbuster.

All the better, Jiheon’s taking your cock as she kisses her co-star, her rhythm constantly disrupted, giving Chaeyoung all the leeway to go down on her svelte body. As always, she’s the loudest one in the room, the one with the highest sounding cries, the one with the sharpest moans. Chaeyoung’s got her arms wrapped around her back, taking purchase of her frame between passionate kisses. She goes down on the one thing she’s envious of, beside her ranking as number one: her supple, shapely tits.

Meanwhile, you’ve got your tongue buried between Chaeyoung’s ass, licking up her slick core, drinking as much of her nectar as you desire. You haven’t had a taste of her in a week, so this was like quenching thirst in the middle of a hot, dry desert.

Squatting on top of you, both women are gingerly bouncing on your helpless body, taking as much of you as they possibly can. Shared experience and common interest working at play. The pleasure sends shockwaves through their nerves, causing them to abruptly freeze in place. Taking this opportunity to dig your hands on Chaeyoung’s thick thighs, deeply slurping into her suffocating heat. They’re making music with their passionate, lust-filled moans.

The pleasure appears to be far more overwhelming than thought. Chaeyoung and Jiheon tremble atop you while they ride you in slow, sloppy motions. Their bodies feel heavy to move smoothly; this is your handiwork. You feel the harsh grip of their nails on your chest. The desperation. The need to cling for support.

“Oh,” you hear a prolonged whine, unsure who it’s from. “Oh God—”

Their breaths are heaving, deep, heavy. Moments stretching into minutes. Minutes stretching into hours. You’ve found true solace between Chaeyoung’s ass and inside Jiheon’s cunt. 

You hear a follow up groan. A continuous crescendo. It’s familiar enough for you to guess it’s Jiheon, and you’d be proven correct. In the midst of this mess, you never realized your own undoing had passed, and it’s because your mind lingered on Chaeyoung’s hole. You never felt the twitch of your cock at all. The creamy load that you were intending to share between the two women, all of it sucked up by Jiheon’s needy pussy instead.

It’s gonna be a challenge to tell Chaeyoung that she’ll have to drink it out of Jiheon’s cunt. 

A brief stir, followed by a gravelly echo, and then Chaeyoung hops off your face, letting you see the light. Jiheon also clambers off your cock, your connection broken by a thick string of cum glued between your skin.

The director rises from his chair, seemingly frustrated for some reason. He’s surveying the scene; it’s a mess. “God dammit. You came too soon.”

Your hips are drenched in a pool of your own sticky load. Likewise, Jiheon’s thigh is dripping to the floor full of you. It’s unlike you to finish quite prematurely. Elsewhere, your face is coated in Chaeyoung’s slick, but not to the same extent as your groin.

“How much did you film?” Jiheon asks him, professional sounding like always, albeit barely suppressing her laughter.

“About four minutes.” 

Four minutes is about 20 short of what was expected. As much as you savored the sensation, you’re not sure you can spend another five beneath Chaeyoung’s ass.

The director pinches his nose, thinking of possible ways to prolong the scene and deliver the best product possible. It may be porn, but it’s still people’s livelihoods at stake. In the meantime, the assistant calls for a break, meaning all three of you head back to the dressing room for a breather and additional touch-ups.

Taking a chair for yourselves, you can’t find the words to speak. So do your co-stars. 

The sound of the door swinging open captures all your attention, foregoing the customary knock. An unprofessional action, but then—

You see the person entering the room, and you all shut up.

“Hey y’all,” Nagyung says, bringing half a dozen shopping bags with her. She’s wearing sunglasses to hide her identity, of course. “Don’t mind if I make myself comfortable.”

You have no objections, even if you couldn’t outright say it. The other two share your sentiment. After all, it’s been a week since you last saw her. Something about a magazine feature, Jiheon said, explaining her sudden absence from your small friend circle. But now, she’s here, in the flesh, visiting during one of your more important film shoots.

The first thing Nagyung points out after setting her bags aside is the thick layer of cum on Jiheon’s skin. “I must have missed out on a hot scene,” she remarks, her gaze lingering on the large blot. Not even her bathrobe can hide the evidence.

“You only got here just now?” Jiheon asks, to which she merely nods.

“Should have gotten here earlier,” Chaeyoung comments, chuckling at her absent friend. “I swear, it was so—so—hot.”

“I bet it was,” Nagyung replies back, lightly shaking her head.

Before it goes awkwardly silent once more, you turn to Nagyung, asking her the big one. “So—have you decided? I thought you weren’t gonna come back.”

Facing you, Nagyung hesitates for a moment. “Well,” she pauses, taking a deep breath to formulate her response. “I have thought about it. A lot. And as you know, I’d like to challenge myself, so—”

“Does that mean—” Chaeyoung interjects.

“Quiet, Chaeng.” You shush her.

Pausing again, Nagyung has this look of resignation and acceptance on her face. “Might as well give it a go.”

In an instant, Chaeyoung’s eyes light up, brimming with newfound energy. On the other hand, you and Jiheon silently nod. 

“Do everything and regret it later—”

“—Rather than not doing anything at all.” Everyone, including you, finishes Nagyung’s sentence in unison. 

“Exactly.” is her remark, amazed at how well all three of you know her mantra.

“I can’t wait,” Chaeyoung tells her, excited at the countless possibilities. “Us three, running the top of the ranks. It’s gonna be so fun.”

“Easy there. Nakko, I know this is gonna be a little bit of an adjustment, but it’s really a blast. Trust us,” says Jiheon, approaching her to be her guide through her new job. “And wouldn’t you know it, you have the best worker on standby to help you out too.”

“And who would that be?”

Jiheon points directly at you. Across your seat, Nagyung gently smiles, expectant and excited. Her friend is giving you a thumbs up, as if you’re a hundred percent down for the responsibility, when in reality, you’re not ready to guide a newcomer through the ropes. Especially one with a well-established public reputation like Lee Nagyung’s.

—————

“So, are you gonna like post that?” Nagyung asks, looking over her shoulder with a wary look. You’ve got her in bed laying on her stomach, her clothes lost on the floor save for her shirt, and you towering behind her, her bare ass trembling with your cock’s touch. With Chaeyoung out for tonight, the little studio where you normally shoot your films with her is available for practice—and you’re gonna take advantage of her absence. “My fees are hefty, you know.”

“No,” you tell her, shaking your head with a slimy, shit-eating grin. On one hand is your cock, pumping yourself hard against her core, the other holding a camera. Her ass is already wiggling against your shaft, and you don’t know whether you can capture this view perfectly once you start rolling. “This work of cinema is for my eyes only.”

Nagyung braces herself and clings to the edge of the mattress as you slowly dip into her pussy, suppressing her moans before she’s utterly consumed by your cock. By the way she reacts, you recognize that she’s born for the cameras, born for this moment.

—————

Later that week, you hear an unexpected knock on your apartment door. Under any other circumstance, you wouldn’t bother to entertain it at all; Chaeyoung’s sudden booty calls happen hours in advance. She would never come over this late. A look through the outside camera shows you a new presence: Nagyung.

You’ve got some questions running through your mind, but you’ll cross that bridge when you get there. So you welcome her inside without a second thought.

As soon as she enters your place, Nagyung sheds off the thick coat she’d been wearing unceremoniously, letting it fall to the floor. Her tits are protruding through her shirt, and she’s sporting the skimpiest pair of jean shorts you’d ever seen. 

“Thanks for letting me in,” she remarks, tone low. Picking up the discarded clothing off the ground, she opts to lay it on your couch rather than the rack close to the entrance. “Sorry if this is all out of nowhere—”

“No worries,” you miraculously manage to blurt out, your gaze lingering on her fine pair of legs. Her slim yet toned physique makes your mouth water. Can’t find the resolve to look anywhere but her eyes, no matter how hard you try. “But—how’d you get my address?”

“Friends know friends. Wasn’t hard.” She’s walking around your apartment, taking mental notes of your place. For someone with your line of work, it’s relatively modest and normal, like you’ve been doing a 9-to-5.

“Right.” You pick up her coat and set it on the rack without her noticing.

Nagyung turns around, facing you eye to eye as you approach her in the living room. Hands behind her pockets, graceful and cordial. The words that come out of her lips aren’t. “You’ve got the best dick around, and after that little trial run we did, I’d like a little more of it.”

It’s so sudden and unanticipated that you can only blink in response..

“So show me then. I need to see it again.” Every step she takes toward you, another step over that line. Her gaze, fierce and intense, goes from you down to your pajamas. Her hands reach for your pajamas, clawing at the fabric to feel your cock. The reaction is immediate; you can feel yourself throb at her hands, the need to free your raging dick. “You wouldn’t turn down a pretty girl like me, would you now?”

Never. Not in a million years. This seems like the exception. You know there are better ways to ease her in, to make the process a lot more comfortable. It’s not an easy adjustment. However, her eyes are begging, pleading in earnest for her to be thrown straight into the fire.

Under the shallowest guise of morality, you hesitate. Swallowing your throat, your voice goes hoarse—falls flat, lacks conviction: “I—I don’t think you should—it’s too soon.”

Your answer falls on deaf ears, because Nagyung continues to hold your cock, squeezing your ballsack. She gives you this teasing, offended look—a response to your half-assed attempt at convincing her otherwise. Sticking her tongue out like it’s second nature, the same manner she does on her Instagram photos. “Really? Did you say this to Jiheon too, huh?”

It seems to light a fire in Nagyung’s soul. She slides down your loose pajamas, enough to let your cock breathe in the air—and for her fingers to touch your tip. Enough for some precum to spill into her hand. Your head begins to spin; you’re feeling lightheaded. 

“Christ—Nakko—we can do this—just not now—” you say, deeply inhaling as she releases you from her grip. 

She takes a finger into her mouth, tastes a bit of you, before coating her lips with your sheen. Lifting an eyebrow, she appears totally unconvinced. “Again. Is this what Jiheon heard when she wanted to do this the first time?”

“No—”

Before you can get another word off, she drops to her knees, forcing your pajamas down to the floor. Your erection inches away from her nose, one hand wraps around the base, delicately pumping you, disrupting your train of thought. Her other hand holds onto your thigh, pulling you close. She dives in, takes you into her mouth, without hesitation. Filling herself with cock and soft hums, her tongue works backwards, licking from the hilt up to your tip in abrupt, erratic motions. 

Fucking hell, she’s such a natural at it.

“Everytime you answer incorrectly,” she mutters, struggling to take in your length, choking halfway before lodging you back in comfortably. “I’m gonna make you cum, but you won’t get to unload in my pussy.”

There are some fates worse than death; this is one of them.

Nevertheless, Nagyung continues to blow you effortlessly, like she was meant for it. This is essentially her audition and she’s passing with flying colors. Her harsh suction and smooth slurping splinters your senses, sends chills down your spine. The only thing you can do is grab her hair, find some semblance of control, but she moves at her pace, at her rhythm—and it’s a mess.

Not even thrusting into her throat can impede her.

“Just be honest with me,” she says, her voice making your cock vibrate. Her fingers remain active pumping, jerking you hard, measuring your load. “You’re trying to protect me, right? You wouldn’t want to be responsible for ruining my acting career?”

You shake your head in denial, even as she continues her assault on your senses. Wrong answer.

“I don’t really care all that much. I just want your cock right now.” Nose to chest, Nagyung’s cheeks hollow out as she invites you throat deep. No gag reflex, even as she whimpers quietly, suffocating, gasping for air. Your fingers thread between strands of her hair, holding her in place, exactly as she wants. 

Merely a blur between your legs, she lightly bobs her head back and forth, relinquishing control into your hand. She’s too far gone, and so are you. You’re more than happy to oblige. 

Taking a brief opportunity to look up at you, Nagyung looks directly into your eyes. She’s never been more proud of herself. Proud to prove a point, proud to make you shut up like this. Internally, you are too; you’ve never had anyone blow you like this, take you into their mouth like it’s built to hold cock. 

“This is all on you, Nakko,” you huff, shutting your eyes, relishing the hot sensation of her mouth and lips. The yank on her hair tightens. “You wanted this.”

She songfully hums, her only response, currently immersed in taking as much of your cock as possible. You reward her, thrusting into her throat without care for comfort or rhythm, without respite. She coughs, she whines, she keens. Tears begin falling from her eyes, but she continues to take it extremely well. 

But neither of you can take it for long. Especially you with how new this sensation feels coming from her.

Your fingers twist her hair into a makeshift leash, controlling her pace to match yours. Except not really, you’re still going at full speed, never letting up for even a second. The ecstasy, the euphoria from using her mouth is too good to let go. Both her hands have given up, settling on your thighs for support. She has conceded complete control into your grasp. You’re now responsible as to whether or not you will ruin her career.

And you just might. After all, she’d given herself over, essentially coming to your side for greener pasture. You can only hope she really doesn’t regret it later.

“Gonna cum,” you groan out, pumping into her mouth, unrelenting. She feels so good, you can barely keep one eye open while she essentially rests on your pelvis, close to flying over the edge.

Nagyung makes this incomprehensible sound, garbled by cock—something between the lines of cumming all over face and never stopping. The thought never crossed your mind. Beside, you’ve got other concerns—particularly, the knot in your stomach tightening past repair. 

For a few precious moments, you feel it: the blaze of lust burning everything in sight, including Nagyung’s face. She chokes, gags on it one more time before releasing you from her grip, her hands returning to the base, intent on making sure you don’t miss a spot on her pristine features. 

Instead, your plunge between her lips again, her eyes widening, and fire away. Her mouth floods with a torrent of cum, thick, hot, filling her throat to the brim. She swallows it all, avoids wasting a single drop, and even she can’t fight it off any longer. She gave up her rights the moment she forced you into her mouth.

Even as the pulse weakens, and you eventually pull out again, Nagyung graciously drinks it up. Savors the taste like its water, like you’re the key to life itself. And while you’re able to avert a career-ending scandal by preserving her pretty face, there’s enough residue to stain her lips and chin, something you can wave off as an accident. 

The same can’t be said for her body hugging shirt. It’s mostly drenched in slick and sheen. Unsalvageable.

It’s the least of your worries right now. Your legs turn wobbly, and you slump back onto the couch, your strength drained all thanks to Nagyung.

“Okay. You got me,” you say, gasping between sentences, gathering as much needed oxygen for your lungs. Placing a hand on your chest, a glance at the woman and she’s licking up her lips for whatever cum’s left. “But—I still don’t think we should—”

Nagyung gets up from the floor and removes her shirt, tossing it aside. You’re rendered speechless at the last second. She’s not wearing any bra, her tits are out in full force, nipples taut and hot. But she’s not done yet; she makes quick work of her shorts, kicking aside her shoes before baring herself completely before your eyes. The sight leaves you shellshocked, your jaw completely agape.

As if you needed any more convincing that she’s ready to do porn. She’s got the makings of a top star; the looks, the body, the expressions, the voice—everything.

Extending out her hand to you, you grab and she pulls you from the couch before taking you to the bedroom. She lands belly first on the mattress, before arching her back, showing her plump ass directly before your presence. More importantly, she’s showing you how needy is through her wet panties, which you quickly slip off. Her wet holes, splayed and throbbing, drawing you in.

“Don’t you see how badly I want it,” she tells you, straightening her body on her fours as you join her in bed. “I’m ready. Just—please shove that big fucking cock inside my slutty hole. Please.”

It’s about as lewd as it sounds, yet still sincere. She’s too good of an actress to be doing mindless pornography.

For a moment, you consider otherwise. But then she’s continuing to whine ‘Please’ in the softest tone possible, and you can’t help but concede. Besides, you knew in your heart you were never gonna turn down a body and pussy like hers.

Lining your cock between her aching core, you give Nagyung a slap on her ass. In return, she yelps. Then another. Two should be enough, one for each cheek. But the visual of her body jiggling, rippling with each palmful as her skin turns from pale white to fiery red sets you further down an addicting, dangerous spiral. 

“Fuck, you’re really good at this,” you mutter, helping yourself to another palmful of ass. Her body trembles, glides down till you have her melted on the mattress. “Calling yourself a slut? Just like that? And I thought you wanted to be taken seriously as an actress.”

“No. I’m a slut,” she whines, her nails digging into the sheets, holding on for dear life. “I’m a slut for big cock, and I don’t care if it ruins me. Just please—shove that big cock inside me already. I can’t take it anymore.”

You want to test her a bit longer. More. To see how long it’ll take before she completely breaks. To find her limits and push them. And based on how needy she sounds, not that much longer.

“If you insist.” You hiss against her ear, spinning her around so she can meet you eye to eye. She’s trembling, anxious, ready to receive what she deserves. Hovering atop her, helpless and vulnerable, you gently slide in—and then she keens.

Nagyung’s cry of pleasure reaches high to the ceiling, filling the room with a sharp echo. The impact is immediate; her walls pulsate against your cock so tightly that it steals your breath. Impossible to drag yourself out. You can only gasp and catch yourself from grunting as loud as her, though it may have been better to give in. 

You feel her refusing to let go, the grip she has on you nigh inescapable. But you eventually slide back out, only to slip back in. Another whine forced from her lips. She’s doing it on purpose, you conclude, a way to break you back. A means to get you to fly over the edge.

Pinning her down to the sheets, going down on her neck, Nagyung’s sensitive to the touch. She quivers beneath you while you acclimate to her warmth, pounding her needy cunt at a slow, tempered pace. The tightness of her pussy enraptures you, continues to take your breath away. She’s all but a blur in your eyes, with her voice being the only guiding light as you fuck her. Her legs slowly wrap around you, keeping you in place so that you have no outs. 

Not that you had any intention of pulling away any time soon. 

Especially when she’s beginning—pleading—in the most strained of tones. 

“Ah—this—cock—this is so—oh my fucking God—” she whines, breathing heavily between words, her lips twisting in ecstasy. By impulse, her nails leave marks over your back, clinging to you desperately. “So fucking big—don’t you ever stop—”

“Never,” is your only response, and it’s oh so right. Your cock glides in and out of her core like water, effortless and silky. Your head is in a daze, going overboard through the unforgiving heat of Nagyung’s cunt. You’ve got a hand squeezed on her breast, surprisingly hefty for her proportions and size. You’re forcing out these noises from her, whether it may be a little cry or a deep whine. You can’t simply touch and admire her; you have to ruin her.

She’s dangerous; she’s an addiction you can’t get enough of. 

The bed begins to rattle, joined by the repeated, rhythmic smacks of skin slapping against skin. Pushing further along into her cunt, like you’re going to drown if you’re not balls deep inside her. It’s unlike you to go farther than normal, but you’re past the point of rational thought; the only thing that can set your mind right is what’s waiting on the other side.

“Nakko,” you mouth, and it comes out naturally. Like it’s meant to be. You can’t stop; you’re so far gone at this point. 

As you try to pull your head away, Nagyung twists her arms around your neck, wrapping you in an awkward, uncoordinated kiss. It’s sloppy and disjointed; your lips barely meet, her breath tense and hot, but passionate and sincere. Mouthing the gentlest ‘more’ and ‘so good and ‘harder’’ something you’re quite familiar with. A little reprieve and distraction from what’s to come. 

But the calm doesn’t last too long. The feeling continues to balloon higher and higher till it’s you’re at the tipping point of exploding. It doesn’t help that Nagyung continues to encourage you with all the little things; her shrilly whines, her clawing at your hair and back, her body bouncing with each thrust, causing her tits to ripple, and of course, the tightness of her cunt.

“So close—I’m gonna cum—oh God I’m going to cum—” Nagyung cries, biting on her lower lip, moving her head around to find your lips again. She narrowly misses you, your lips by her chin, breathing on her neck.

“Cum for me, Nakko,” you tell her, keeping her breaths labored and erratic, your thrusts unrelenting—like you’ve ripped the brakes off your own hips. The grip around your waist is beginning to waver. “Just—cum all over me—cum for me, slut—”

That one word. That one damned word that she’d been avoiding this entire time—is what breaks her. She embraces it now. Forget about saving face; this is who Nagyung really is. A slut.

Because she cums. Hard. Her pussy quivers, her body tenses up, and her feet curl in the air as the orgasm washes over her. Tilting her head to the side, letting out this impassioned cry of pain and pleasure as you fill her to the hilt, filthy and heavenly in every single way. Fingers embedded deep into your skin, uncaring about all the marks she’s leaving on your body; a fair trade-off for what you’re leaving in her. 

She washes all over you, a fresh wave of slick and nectar that floods your cock, and as you push further on, you realize you’re not any better. If anything, you’re dangerously close to falling apart too.

“Gonna fucking cum—” you hiss, kissing her cheek repeatedly, pulling on her dark locks, going down on her neck again in a last-ditch effort to delay the inevitable. 

“Please—” she murmurs back, unable to resist you, unable to find a moment to catch her breath. “Don’t cum anywhere else—cum inside me—fill me up—please—”

With a tone like hers, it’s impossible to decline such an offer.

And mercifully, the end comes not long after. 

Pressing Nagyung deep into the mattress, your bodies melt as one. Burying yourself deep inside her, leaving an evident mark on her neck as your connection reaches its apex. You feel it—the violent, continuous pulse of your cock unloading shot after shot inside her needy cunt till she’s drained you of your worth. A cacophony of whispers fall against your ear, the same comment of ‘so warm—so much—’ in that order, until you’re both met with a calming silence, only accompanied by your steady breaths.

Can’t move, even as your cock withers in her warmth, insisting to stay. You’ve got each other in a warm embrace, unwilling to let go. You’re resting your head right beneath hers, kissing what little of her chest you can reach. Basking in the afterglow of sex, taking all the time in the world to let everything sink in. Even now, it’s all a blur; a complete disruption of the status quo.

Tilting her head down to glance at you, Nagyung quietly breathes, her lips melding into a little smile. “Well—this is—” before she goes blank, still overwhelmed over the events that have transpired.

“Yeah,” is all you can say, just as tongue tied, like you’ve both come to the same conclusion.

As she leans in to meet you for a deep, passionate kiss, you both hear a voice echo in the distance. ‘Cut!’ the director tells you, and you both lay down, drained and exhausted. His applause echoes around the room while he approaches you both, pleased with your efforts.

While he yaps on about something, you take a moment to hush something to Nagyung. “Christ. Nakko, you’re a natural.”

She smiles at your remark, caressing the back of your head. “You’re not half-bad yourself.”

—————

“Jesus.” Nagyung looks at her phone in utter disbelief and shock. Across the table, Jiheon leans forward to take a peep herself. The title is irrelevant (but partially responsible); what matters is the view count. And to no one’s surprise, it’s a hit. Her debut ‘film’ has notched 14 million views in a little over 24 hours, a new site best, surpassing the previous record by a complete landslide. It isn’t even close; just like that, a new star is born.

“See?” Jiheon looks on, proud. “By the rate you’re going, you’ll surpass me and Chaeng in no time. And it’ll be rightfully deserved.”

“Sure, but—” Nagyung looks around the bar, trying to catch a glimpse of Chaeyoung, whom she hasn’t seen in a week. “I don’t wanna post as often as you do, you know? Make it a big deal whenever I do this. Also when my agency eventually finds out, I’m toast.

“Doesn’t matter. We all know it’s you,” Jiheon jests, raising her eyebrows playfully, much to her friend’s annoyance. By request, Nagyung had her face explicitly blurred out and cut whenever possible during sex scenes, even though she had taken up the daunting task herself instead of getting a body double. “But we’re all well protected, and this is all under the table, high security shit. So don’t worry. Besides, it pays well, if not better for a day’s work.”

Just then, Chaeyoung emerges from the restrooms, adjusting her jeans as she walks over to their table. Taking her seat besides Nagyung, she gives her a friendly kiss and embrace. “Congrats on the debut, Nakko. That was very hot, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Nagyung quietly smiles at her, tone respectful and gentle. “So—where’s he?”

Right as Chaeyoung is about to open her mouth, you come out of the bathroom, wiping off soiled tissue roll glued to your fingers and pants. Chaeyoung smirks while the other two silently giggle and suppress their laughter. It’s been a week since she’s had her hands all over you, and this is how you catch up with each other.

“So, what’s next?” Chaeyoung asks, addressing the elephant in the room. “I assume you’ll be going back to doing regular acting roles now that this is all behind you—”

“Mmm—I don’t think so.” Nagyung interrupts. “Still haven’t got a new role yet, officially, but I’ve been penciled in for one as a rich asshole student.”

“You sure that wasn’t for me?” Jiheon interjects, eliciting a hearty laugh out of everyone around the table.

“Good one. But that was a fun experience, honestly. All thanks to this guy over here,” Nagyung says, pointing her finger directly at you, drawing all the girls’ attention.

Tilting your head, you remark, “Just doing my job, that’s all there is to it.”

“Easiest job in the world, am I right?” Chaeyoung teases, smirking devilishly, like she’s ready to go another round. 

Trying to remain well-mannered and polished, you reply, “It wouldn’t be as easy if she wasn’t cooperative on set, so there’s that.”

“Right.” Chaeyoung looks down, tone sarcastic, her fingers tapping on the table. “Definitely didn’t practice the night before. Am sure.”

“Anyway,” Jiheon interjects, redirecting the conversation back to the topic at hand. “So—what will you do, Nakko?”

Nagyung gives herself a moment to think. Then, her eyes pop wide open, like an idea just hit her.

“How would you three like to break the internet one more time?”

—————

(A/N: Thank you for the commission! I hope I was able to deliver a worthwhile product; between IRL stuff dragging the whole month of February down, barely had time to truly focus on writing. And funnily enough, the three idols requested all happen to be part of the redebuting fromis lineup. I'm glad fromis will continue on in some capacity, but it's still a bummer that we lost out on Saerom, Seoyeon, and Jisun (which, considering how much they've been shelved and mismanaged since debut, is understandable). Thank you for reading!)

[cosycafune]

LOVE MAKING

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝ corruption runs deeply within sylus, in the eyes of you -- his prey. you’re always beneath sylus, fucked deliriously until your sanity is splattered. however, it's time for you to finally corrupt the estranged ruler. you yearn for, onychinus, to beg for you for the first time. until he’s a broken mess, corrupted for a sweet, addictive you. if you are not careful, things could get rough; sylus is an insatiable beast.

acts: breeding kink, rough sex, smut without plot, creampies, hickeys, corruption kink, spanking, unprotected sex, bondage, power dynamics, orgasms, riding, degrading, mentions of wet dreams and potentially more. mdni 18+. masterlist.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

STRADDLING a tied-down Sylus, you sadistically grin. Inevitably, the Onychinus leader remains beneath you – contradicting his strength. Currently, you’d do anything for his vulnerable state to be flaunted, for others to see the twinkle in his crimson eyes – waiting for you to make him plead for you. Plead for a nude, goddess-like you to pulverise a hickey-stained, reddened him.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Grinning, Sylus admires your plump breasts above him – his question filled with mesmerisation.

“Seeing you beneath me is hot,” Smitten, you sultry speak, “You’re covered in hickeys, desperate, covered in your cum, and not a drop is in me.” Chuckling, you softly shift back – allowing Sylus’ cock to be teased by your slick folds.

“So, my sweet Sylus, what do you want?” Harshly grinding against his monstrous cock, you taunt him – filled with a bursting fever of lust.

“I want all of you,” Sylus whimpers out, completely compelled by your siren-influenced cunt – grinding against his cock so beautifully.

“Beg for it, baby,” Enthralled by Sylus’ compliance, you softly moan – poking at his loose restraint.

At any moment, he’s capable of breaking out – fulfilling your cruel game of cat and mouse.

“Sweetie, please,” With his features scrunched up, Sylus’ tone comes out lightly – murky at the feeling of your tempting cunt.

“Say it again…Sy’,” Purring, you continue to grind against him — gaining satisfaction from his compliance.

“Please,” Growing impatient, Sylus simply smirks. 

Subconsciously, he pleaded with you as his swollen lips helplessly parted — lust and deep-rooted yearning coating him. Sylus longed for so much more, no matter the destructive price that lingered before his eyes.

“Tell me why I should give you all of me?” 

Mocking Sylus, you moan and harshly groan — trembling at Sylus impulsively spanking your ass.

A loud echo thuds through his bedroom.

“Please—”

“You’re being bad, Sy’,” Close to losing authority, you roughly murmur — mewling at Sylus grasping your ass cheeks.

Impossibly close, Sylus whimpers extensively — gathering a slither of pleasure. Pleasure from the fat tip of his cock coddling your entrance, prodding against the warmth. Warmth Sylus desperately craves, but you wickedly deprived him of something he wants the most.

He’s a feral beast, desperate for all of you.

“Please, just this,” At his wit’s end, Sylus releases a straggled moan — subtle anger tinting his voice.

“How can the leader of the N109 zone be so whiny?” Teasing Sylus, your glassy eyes widen at Sylus’ intimidating aura seeping into his firm touch.

“You’re in control now, but don’t push your limits,” Sneering, Sylus frustratingly warns you — burrowing his fingers within your bubble butt.

“I’m in control,” Solidifying your authority, you grasp onto Sylus’ thick cock — allowing it to kiss upon your entrance.

“Just a little more,” Sylus evolves whiny beneath you, pleading for you to sink down onto his throbbing cock.

“You’ve earned it,” Thrilled by Sylus’ obedience, you gently mutter — beginning to swallow the tip of Sylus’ cock.

Regardless, you knew your robes of control would be reformed by an eager Sylus. The delirious look in his crimson eyes confirmed your thoughts, particularly with his eyes beginning to flutter. Flutter as you handle more than just his large tip, being expanded by his unethical cock.

“‘Need me… to take over?” Groaning, Sylus’ eyes roll back — slowing the pacing of his inquiry.

“Ngh! I…got this!” Struggling, you almost topple over — attempting to reassure Sylus.

“Do…you?” Relishing your struggle, Sylus buries himself further within a gasping you — aware that you always struggle with riding him.

“Ah! Yes!” Feeling Sylus’ cock so deeply inside of your cunt, you instinctively cry out with delight — itching to finally conquer all of him.

“Feel… all of me,” Attempting to take control, Sylus begins to softly thrust within you — his strained statement consuming you.

“N-No, ‘m in…control,” Sluggishly countering Sylus, you begin to gently bounce upon his perfectly-crafted cock — riddled with worship.

“Mhm, t-take… me like that, s-sweetie,” Mindlessly encouraging you, Sylus begins to shudder beneath you.

Confused, Sylus only lowly grunts at you reaching for his hands upon your toned hips. Idolising a riding you, Sylus’ consciousness disregards you using your disregarded underwear to tie his hands together. Naturally, you wanted him to feel helpless — mentally destroying himself to gather all of your celestial cunt.

“Look…at you,” Faintly grinning, your eyes roll back with your distorted taunting.

Reigning over a flustered Sylus, you succumb to his thick cock hungrily ramming into you. Ramming into you at a pace that completely swallows your sanity, leaving your rationality in the powerful arms of Sylus. Even with his hands tied up, Sylus couldn’t help but eradicate your gushy cunt with each thrust — indirectly claiming his ownership of you.

“Sweetie,” Proud of your dominant streak, voicing it, Sylus allows you to entwine with his momentum.

“‘Can’t…Ah! handle…Sy’,” Crying, you push yourself past your sexual limits — moments away from finishing.

“Hm, s-same,” Purring, Sylus mewls loudly — suffocated by your cunt pulverising his throbbing cock.

“‘Deep…” Falling silent, you subconsciously finish harshly on Sylus’ cock — distorted by how warm you feel.

“T-Tight, sweetie,” Sylus murmurs, physically buzzing with pleasure. 

Unable to handle himself, Sylus begins to plug your pouring cunt with more of his cock. More of his cock in an attempt to swell you with his seed, sacrificing everything with how good you pulverise him. Longing, lust, and devotion writhe so deeply within Sylus — stripping him of his restraint.

Harshness adorns every aspect of Sylus’ pounding. Not a hint of mercy paints his ravenous cock, driving him into stuffing himself impossibly further into your squelchy cunt. Each sound, each struggle moan from you, stirred a gluttonous Sylus on — leaving him to finally have his way with you.

“Hope…you get pregnant,” Sylus recklessly blurts out, thrusting his deepest within you before spilling every spurt of his seed inside of you.

“Ah!” Trembling, your sleepy eyes widen at Sylus’ impossible harsh shots of cum beating against your cunt.

Guess who’s begging now?

—

do not copy, modify or claim any of my works as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024. small banners credit: cafekitsune <3

[vexedcoast]

I can be a better boyfriend than him

ft. fdom vi. and afab sub reader

a/n: pillow princess femme reader taking hexstrap like a champ . not much plot bc I'm lazy as fuck. if a man tried to flirt like this I'd call the c0ps but,, if vi did this 🤭 hehe .

cw : heavy cheating ( readers boyfriend is an asshole , and cheats on reader . . so ,,, justified ). pet names ( princess, bunny, pretty girl — for reader , daddy, sir — for vi ). hexstrap is referred to as cock a few times .

this party was going to be the death of you — it was supposed to be an escape from the hell you were in . your boyfriend of two years cheated — took someone else into your bed . not just once, but three times ( that he admitted ). you hadn't officially broken it off yet — seeking out piltover's shadiest party that you could find on such short notice .

the music, the bodies — everything was too much . what you needed was a god damn distraction . anything, anyone, to take away the pain . a drink in your hand — the bitter taste of alcohol burned your throat before the barkeep could even ask for your name to build you a tab for the night . you slid over a few crumbled bills, mumbling a soft thank you.

the night bustled on — but you kept feeling eyes on you . but no matter where you looked, you couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from . that was until your gaze finally found her, scarlet haired — bruised knuckles and muscles where you had no ideas muscles could be so defined . your expression must have been pitiful, she approached within half a second . your mouth agape , scarlet staining your cheeks .

"what's a sweet thing like you doing all alone in such a scary place ?"

her voice rasped — rough palm cupping your cheek . your expression and lips moved like a fish out of water . stunned, floored at not just her prescene but her confidence . the way she ever so slowly backed you against a wall near the bar — hand resting on the chipped paint , not exactly caging you in but encroaching you . her other hand shifted to your waist with a bit more hesitation, giving you enough time to push her away .

" looking for a distraction. "

you answered breathlessly — lower lip quivering ever so slightly . leaning into her touch as though it recharged your own body .

"I can give you a good distraction, just not here."

her lips skimmed your ear, whispering into it with a wolf like grin — teeth barring. before you could think twice, you mewled out a soft please . oh, she was going to devour you.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚

"c'mon puppy, suck."

battered hand dug into your hair — pushing you forward , you opened your mouth without having to be told twice. lips wrapped around the strap, eyes rolling back as vi slid it down your throat . slow at first, giving you a few seconds to adjust yourself . her hand brushed soothingly against your scalp, trimmed nails scratching ever so slightly .

you began to move - bobbing your head up and down, taking her deeper and deeper. your eyes set back to vi's gaze, keeping hold of it as you started to gag on the cock . your hands were invisibly tied behind you — not having to any room to argue when vi told you exactly what to do and how to do it .

" such a good puppy — i can't believe someone would let you go. you're so loyal and obedient."

vi graveled, palm shifting to your chin — tipping it up to maintain eye contact . her thumb brushed your cute little tears away, rocking her hips forward and cooing as you gagged even more . so pretty, she whispered.

as fast as her cock parted your lips, it was gone . she pulled away , unable to hide laughter as you looked pathetically up at her like you were just deprived of air . poor puppy . her fingers remained on your chin, cooing at you .

"on the bed, hands and knees."

she stated as a fact rather than a question. you obeyed instantly, nearly jumping onto the shoddy mattress. squirming, whimpering like a bitch in heat.

vi moved like a lioness going for the kill . gruff hand gripping your hip while another slapped the strap against your clit.

"beg."

once again, an easy command to follow — lips parting almost like you'd been given an electric shock from the demand.

"please, please fuck me. please daddy — i need you so badly. I'm throbbing for you. "

the pet name slipped without even thinking about it . you could feel her entire body stiffen at the two syllables .

"oh, fuck I'm sorry it just slipped out – I didn't mean to—."

the apology spat out quickly, your eyes widening .

violet flipped you over like you were a little feather. trapping you between her and the mattress. it took several beats before you realized exactly what happened. a thumb slid past your lips and held your tongue down .

"you need daddy to fuck you? need daddy's cock, puppy? you beg so sweetly — i bet that pussy is dripping, and i haven't even touched you yet."

she kneed open your legs — which you complied , spreading your thighs open like the red sea . her thumb remained on your tongue, now allowing a response.

"its big, but you can take it, right? be good for daddy. fuck, how could someone see you like this and not keep you as their own personal fuck toy? so good. take daddy's cock."

her words stung, just a bit . but she was right, how could he cheat on you when you lowered such a gorgeous, drooling mess? all you could do was nod, bucking your hips up . vi shifted her hands to hold down your waist, teasing your entrance with just the tip.

" don't even think about trying to set the pace. don't fucking move those hips without permission, understood?"

you yelped as the head of her strap pushed inside, whimpering out yes sir's over and over again. you needed more.

"good girl. oh you're already taking my cock so well."

she didn't go any further, which you were rather thankful for. the strap was nearly nine inches and thick — breaking you apart bit by bit. your jaw slacked whimpering out nothing more than begs. her hand and thumb released you, only to wrap around behind your knee - hiking it over her shoulder.

"don't stop, please daddy."

your whines got louder, trying once more to buck your hips up. which was met with a slam into you — strap kissing deep inside you without warning.

"i told you not to do any work, princess."

she warned — pulling herself back out all the way , unable to hide laughter as you squirmed under her. your legs shook with anticipation, trying your best not to move. her nails dug into the plushness of your tights, imprinting crescent shapes into your skin.

"take my strap c'mon puppy."

you did as you were told, arching your back up as she slid herself back into you till the hilt kissed your clit once more, the leather harness straps digging in just a bit. your core dripped, ached as she stretched you out with no mercy. with every thrust, her muscles tensed and fuck— she had so many. your eyes had a hard time focusing on just one part of her.

your hands dug into her biceps, gripping tight while she slid in and out at a merciless pace — giving you no time to even think, let alone try to move your hips. but now, — her thumb pushed down on your clit, finding it with her eyes closed – like a well trained marksman. it rubbed slow, deep, methodical circles — pulling you closer and closer to the edge.

"can I cum sir, please please please. I've been so good."

you cried, trying to hold on — wanting to be a good, sweet girl for her.

"cum for daddy, cum on my cock."

she urged you, but really — you hadn't really needed a blessing. already tipping over the edge before she called herself daddy. tears pricked in the outer corners of your eyes, cat like nails scratching against her battered and bruised skin - whining.

✿　.　˚　. 　 ˚　✿.

"stay."

her voice was firm, pulling you back to her chest — tucking your head into her neck.

"but I —, he. ."

you tried, but failed — mumbling against her skin .

"is nothing to you anymore. I can be a better boyfriend than he ever could be."

[burningcheese-merchant]

"You and I... We are meant to be together." okay everyone pack it up. go home. it doesn't get worse than this. I fear all other ancient x beast is #cancelled forever because how the utter fuck do you compete with that. My god. Dark Cacao would die on the spot, his old fucking heart would give out processing a sentence that romantic. Golden Cheese would choke and die from the physical manifestation of her own pride and ego before she could ever utter a sentence that open and honest. Hollyberry is choosing to laugh it all off and pray she can drink away and not think about it. White Lily would fall into another witch pot of bubbling goo before confronting said feelings. Only Pure Motherfucking Vanilla is that clincally batshit and unburdened to spout his feelings 1000% unfiltered to a guy who just killed his friends and got his rocks off psychologically torturing him.

Mystic Flour being utterly repulsed by such naïve, meaningless sentimentality, still clinging to the remains of the apathy she so cherishes and champions even as it slips through her fingers like flour through a sieve; hating herself to her very core because somewhere within it, she KNOWS her heart beats and aches for that ridiculous man, but she would end her own suffering before she allowed the truth to poke its head out from the shadows of her subconscious for even a single second

Burning Spice knowing how he feels for Golden Cheese, reveling in it, LIVING for the way his heart thunders in his chest and his breath hitches at the mere thought of his little bird. Never being afraid to tell her so, to pour out the contents of his dark heart without any filter (and Witches know he needs one at times...), either through his mouth or through the blade of his axe. But... still knowing that it isn't quite enough. Not for her. Because there's still something missing from his confessions. That soft, sugary sweetness that took away enough of the edge to his overwhelming spice that even he himself noticed it. That raw honesty - a different kind than he's used to, not quite what he employs. The kind that well and truly leaves him vulnerable and open to judgment; things he hates himself for fearing, even if it's only in relation to her and no one else. The kind he simply cannot have, that he cannot carry out. He tells Golden Cheese how he feels for her the way he WANTS to, not the way he NEEDS to. For that, he must change. And damn it, he can't handle any more change. It'll kill him, and he doesn't want to die anymore. Not while she's there to make his life fun again

Eternal Sugar sighing, rolling her eyes before letting them flutter shut again, because she knows this song and dance. She once helped countless others perform it; such was her lot as Happiness. And she chooses to ignore it, tuck herself back into bed and retreat into the world of dreams once more. Letting laziness govern her actions, like always. Running away from everything again - including her feelings for Hollyberry, and the fears and doubts that shroud them. Choosing to do nothing with the fact that Hollyberry is a runner and a quitter just like her, instead of taking initiative with her life and emotions for the first time in ages and telling Hollyberry point-blank that they could run away from the world together if she truly wanted

Silent Salt secretly lamenting his condition more than ever before, for now more than ever can he truly say that it is a hindrance, a curse, a stain on the tapestry of his life. Because no matter how well he's trained himself to express his thoughts and feelings through his actions, he knows that there are times where words really DO speak louder - and he can't speak them at all. He can never look White Lily in the eye and open his mouth and allow his praise and adoration to leap freely from his tongue. She will never feel the warmth of his tone as his words embraced her. She will never shiver and swoon at the joy and passion that dripped from every single letter - and there would've been many, there would've been more than could ever have been recorded, for he would've sung his feelings from every rooftop on earth until his lungs gave out. But he can't. He never will. Does he try to pretend it's better this way? Does he try and fail to cope with his lovesickness like his comrades do with theirs? Or does he accept the bitter reality for what it is, no ifs, ands, or buts, only hiding the gloom and doom he knows is written all over his face behind his helm just so he doesn't have to see it for himself?

And, above all of these things, bundling up the other 4 Beasts' feelings and tucking them away... Above all else, they are angry. They are angry at Shadow Milk. Because he achieved what none of them could. He got everything he wanted. His Ancient admitted his love for him, with all of the raw sincerity one could possibly afford another. The other Beasts would do ANYTHING to hear their Ancients speak to them in such a way. To acknowledge and embrace their connection, to confess to loving and longing for them; for their countenance, for their voice, for their touch, for their very souls. Shadow Milk got to reunite with his other half - who chose him willingly, wholeheartedly.

And Shadow Milk chose to throw it all away in the end. Let it all go to waste.

If any of them ever see him again, they're going to let him know EXACTLY how they feel about it all. Maybe it can count as practice towards crafting a proper heartfelt confession.

[lordprettyflackotara]

red sex || jeff the killer

Red.

It was everywhere.

There was no escaping the dreaded color, red staining every inch of your body. Jeff was connected at the hips, the crimson paint staining his pale skin as well. Your killer had just returned from a successful venture, only to find you withering in pain from period cramps. Being on an emotional high, seeing you curled up in a ball just wouldn’t do. You blamed and thanked Eyeless Jack for putting the idea of period in Jeff’s head. It brought together two things he loved the most, fucking you and blood. You were sure Jeff had potential in being a vampire. Your legs dangled over his shoulders, his large hands gripping your ankles as he fucked you. Bloody handprints made rings around them, a sadistic grin curling up Jeff’s lips.

“Look so fuckin pretty like this doll. We should just bathe you in this stuff,” Jeff huffed, licking his lips. Your blood and his victims blood mixed together well, the two of you staining everything you touched. Your light colored sheets were now stained, your body too hooked on the pleasure Jeff was providing you to put up too much of a protest. His cock abused your g spot as he fucked you into the mattress, your hormonal pain temporarily subsided as Jeff used you like his own personal pocket pussy. “Believe it or not doll you’re tighter than usual,” He chuckled darkly, glancing down. You both watched as his cock re-entered your cunt time and time again. A ring of red coated his shaft, your juices and period blood mixing together to create the best lubricant known to man. You gripped onto his blood soaked hoodie, droplets of the crimson running down your palms and wrist. “Jeff, holy shit-” You sputtered, your eyes screwing shut. It was as if your senses were heightened, each thrust deliciously over calculated causing the best pleasure imaginable. In the nasty freak fashion that was your killer boyfriend, he licked up the side of your leg as he fucked you mercilessly.

“Feel that good huh?” Jeff boasted, grinning like a mad man. He could feel how close you were. You were always so easy to make cum. Whether Jeff was that skilled or not he didn’t really know, but it’s not like it mattered anyways. He’d tell himself he was, just to ensure his ego was still at large so he’d make you cum at least three times per session. You were about to hit orgasm one, Jeff bringing himself closer to you. He nibbled at your neck as he abused your core, your folds turning red and puffy from his abuse. “You’re always so cute after you cum the first time, shakin’ and shit,” Jeff chuckled, feeling you milk his cock. Your vision went white as you came, your legs shaking by his head. The killers permanent grin grew larger, watching your body attempt to come down from its first orgasm. He stroked your face, smearing some blood on what clean parts of your skin still remained.

“You look so cute, covered in blood and cummin’ like that. Let’s make you do that again.”