#cw: frottage
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goxjo · 4 months ago
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♥︎ 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 ♥︎
⟢ ┈ ﹒꒰ the morning after your first time with him, he’s not quite finished with you FT. gojo, nanami, geto, naoya, toji x fem! reader ꒱
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AUTHOR’S NOTE. yeah, this could end up being very sweet or very horny. either way, please mind the warnings uwu. also, gojo’s is longer than the rest just bc <3
CONTENT. explicit smut, some sprinkles of fluff, eepy jjk men. ♡ gojo ♡ pet name: baby, princess, cuddling, early morning banter, frottage, v! fingering. ♡ nanami ♡ food cw, he wears a cute lil apron and you show up wearing only his shirt, v! fingering. ♡ geto ♡ pet name: angel, morning wood, early morning stretch, daddy kink. ♡ naoya ♡ pet name: kitten, consensual somnophilia, cunnilingus, kinda rough, squirting in his mouth sorry not sorry <3 ♡ toji ♡ pet name: sweetheart, consensual somnophilia, waking him up by giving head, 69.
LINKS. GEN. MASTERLIST ┆ JJK MASTERLIST
♥︎ 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓 ♥︎
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ੈ♡‧₊˚ GOJO SATORU
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“Satoru, can I tell you something?” You lightly trace your finger down his face. The tips of his eyelashes feel ridiculously soft to the touch, not to mention his glossy lips- ones that have explored your own and your body so thoroughly just a few hours ago, you’ve memorized its shape at this point. His mouth slightly opens when you graze his bottom lip with your thumb. Through his pearly white teeth, warm breath fans the tip of your finger as his chest rises and falls in sync with his light snoring.
“Hm?” For the first time, you’re hit with his raspy morning voice - one you can definitely find yourself getting used to. He catches your hand, peppering lazy, half-asleep kisses at the back of it. “What is it?”
“Nothing. Just- I’m insanely attracted to you, that’s all,” you whisper and his eyes light up at the sudden confession. You haven’t been together long so you saying something like this out of the blue is more than enough to take him aback. Next thing you know, big strong arms wrap around you, piling your weight on top of him.
“This feels nice,” he breathes, sleep finding its way back to his eyes, and you can feel his breaths slow down as he drifts off again.
Flick. “Hey, wake up. Need to hear that voice again.” You lightly flick a finger to his forehead and his eyes flutter open for a few seconds. But that wasn’t enough to fully wake him.
“Can’t. You’re so warm. So soft,” he mutters, tightening his grip around you. He shifts a little, trying to nestle the back of his head into his pillow as he shuts his eyes. “Could stay like this all day long.”
You lean closer to his face, studying his sleeping profile. How could anyone be this perfect? Most people wake up with bed heads, dried up drool on their chin, troll-like attitude, and crusty eyes. Not Gojo Satoru. He’s an angel. He wakes up in the morning looking as if he had a 30-minute head start to his daily skincare routine. As if he even needs one.
“Sooo soft,” he mutters once more, squeezing your sides.
“Hate to be the bearer of bad news you big pervert but you have to get ready for class.”
“Wrong!” He jolts awake. “That’s not something someone ‘insanely attracted’ to me would say.”
“How would you know?”
“Because I’m insanely attracted to you as well, and I say ‘5 more minutes’. Actually, make that an hour.”
You try to brush off his comment, pretending as if heat didn’t just rush to your cheeks at what you’d call a poor attempt at banter. A lie, because of course he’s an expert. “Come on you big baby. Wake up.”
“45 minutes, baby.” A big hand reaches underneath your shirt, soothing your bare back.
“Think you’re being slick, huh?”
“Mmm, shut up and come closer.”
“15 minutes?” you suggest, legs straddling his sides, pussy grinding on his half-hard cock as you draw hearts on his jaw, his hands finding their way to your bare ass.
“Hmm, 30.” He groans and you feel his cock twitch underneath, his hands grabbing the fat of your ass.
“You’re a bad negotiator- mmf.” You purr when he spreads your ass, walls clenching at the slight stretch.
“The worst. So, 30? Actually no. 30 is a done deal if you throw in a little kiss.”
“Deal—”
“On second thought…” his fingers slide down your folds, your mouth pops into an ‘o’ and you know for sure you’re done for the second he slides two digits into your slippery hole. “How ‘bout we make it 30 minutes after round 2?”
You’re definitely going to have to stay in all morning.
ੈ♡‧₊˚ NANAMI KENTO
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A wave of confusion hits you when you’re awoken by the sound of something that dropped in a pan, aroma of something frying filling the room. Your eyes dart to the door slightly left open and you’re suddenly aware of the empty space beside you.
You try to look for the clothes you discarded last night but they’re nowhere to be found. So of course, you go for the next best thing.
Coming into the kitchen, you’re met with your partner’s broad and bare back, and your eyes immediately dart to the white lace-trimmed ribbon tied around his waist.
Clad only in pajama pants and that frilly little apron you gifted him as a joke, one that has a pretty pink ‘kiss the chef’ embroidered text at the front, Nanami is way too preoccupied with preparing breakfast for two.
You whistle in a way that’s too flirty for his comfort. Nanami looks over his shoulder, eyes trailing your form up and down, staring way too long at where his signature blue button-down ends just slightly above your upper thighs.
“Careful, your hashes are about to burn.”
“Did you sleep well?” he asks, completely turning off the heat as he makes his way towards you.
“You’re not gonna finish that? Aren’t you going to—” he doesn’t let you finish when he captures your mouth, pulling you into a deep kiss. His hands reach underneath the hems of your (his) shirt, finding your slick folds before pumping you silly with two of his fingers.
“Nope, I’m suddenly craving something else. Sit on the counter, now.”
ੈ♡‧₊˚ GETO SUGURU
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You’re woken up by the sound of an alarm. Looking at the clock, it reads ‘7:00 am’ and you’re surprised to find a heavy arm around your waist and something hard pressed up against your ass.
You shift to turn off his alarm, to which Geto’s eyebrows furrow, protesting over your sudden escape from his hold. “Come back here,” he groans, voice a tad deeper than his usual key, swiftly pulling you close to his bare chest.
“You sound so sexy,” you whisper, planting lazy kisses on his nose and on his lips, his erection leaking something warm on your stomach.
“Really? You sounded sexier last night. Need to hear you screaming my name again, angel.” He reaches down, knuckles sliding across your slit as you feel his fist pumping his cock at the same time. For the first time, you’re oriented with what mornings with Geto are like.
The head of his cock runs through your slick folds before finding your hole. You purr at the friction as he enters you, giving a whole new meaning to ‘early morning stretches.’
“Ohh, ohh~” you hum. Your core grows heavy with need, forcing you to try to bounce on his cock, clit grinding against his abdomen as you hold onto his bicep.
“So impatient.” Geto chuckles at your eagerness. “Want daddy to pay attention to your clit?”
“Daddy, daddy, n-need you to move pleasepleaseplease,” you whine. He hooks your leg around his waist, fingers digging into the fat of your ass as he bottoms out.
“Good morning to you too.”
ੈ♡‧₊˚ NAOYA ZEN��IN
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You think maybe you’re having one of those dreams. The best kind- one where a warm, wet muscle runs across your puffy slit before sliding in and out of your hole. It feels so hot, so good. Too hot, too good, you feel an orgasm coming-
“Fuuuck,” you cuss breathily, whines choking back a wake up yawn, and your body arches to the sensation in your pussy in place of an early morning stretch. Your eyes blink away the sleep in your eyes. Looking down, you find that black and white head of hair you love so much in between your thighs. And he doesn’t stop devouring your pretty cunt even as you mewl through your high. “Fuck, baby, fuck me!”
It’s real and it’s definitely his tongue sucking on your throbbing clit, definitely his thick fingers relentlessly fucking your wet velvet walls, definitely your pussy squelching from how good his tongue and fingers play with you at this ungodly hour.
“Grrood, mm-you’re-mm-awake,” he talks as if he’s speaking to your pussy, unwilling to part from your sweet little cunt even for a second. He was also like this last night. He told you the taste of your pussy is so damn fucking intoxicating, he could eat you up like a three-course-meal.
“Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop!” Your fingers rake through his locks, making him use his teeth on your pussy just because he knows how much you like it when he gets rough. He feels so good going down on you like this, you just can’t help but squeeze his head between your thighs.
“Babybabybaby, fuuuuck- shit!” You feel your pussy twitch two or three times before he gulps, and with his lips still glued to your pussy, you could feel him release a deep chuckle at how much you came undone. Worry washes all over you, heat rising to your face when you realize what you’d done.
“I’m sorry I’m sorry, I didn’t-”
“You taste heavenly kitten, do it again.”
ੈ♡‧₊˚ FUSHIGURO TOJI
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Toji wakes up to an all-familiar feeling around his cock, something that wasn’t uncommon before he had you but now that it is you and your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock, one arm propped on his thigh for dear life-
“God, I fucking love you.”
He absolutely adores the sight of your head in the morning bobbing up and down his hard length, ass perked, other hand struggling to play with your cunt.
“C’mere and turn around sweetheart. Show me that pretty pussy of yours.”
Ass still perked, only now it’s dangerously close to his face. He spreads your folds with his thumbs, stretching your juicy, clenching entrance and huffing out hot air before he drags out his tongue to lick stripes on your cunt.
“Rrmfh~” Your mewls are muffled as you’re gagged with the head of his cock. The feeling of his tongue on your pussy tickles something in you that makes you suck on his cock, releasing a pop when your mouth leaves his length.
“Ohh~ T-toji baby-fuck-let’s cum together.”
“So fucking needy.” Toji kisses your clit a couple times before making out with your lips. He alternates between nipping the sensitive bud with his teeth and flicking it with his tongue, driving you insane while your own mouth is stuffed full of his cock.
“I rarely have breakfast, but this is a nice little treat.”
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blkkizzat · 4 months ago
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❝ AITA FOR ACCIDENTALLY GETTING MY ANCIENT SORCERER BF HIGH? ❞
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MODERN ERA TRUE!FORM SUKUNA X READER
» thread [summary]: Sukuna just ate all your edibles and is now more lit than Tokyo Tower—great. Now you have to fuck his high n' grumpy ass calm before you're the one that's actually fucked.
» upvotes [wc]: 11.9k » awards [cw]: true form sukuna, crack fic 110%, dr*g use, accidental dr*gging, slight dubcon, sub!sukuna, cunnalingus, fingering, whiny!sukuna, riding, twin-cock sukuna, nipple teasing, lots of banter, spanking, bimbo!reader, pussy smacks, frottage, premature ejaculation, creampie, breeding fantasies, rimming, cum eating, femdom, uncut/uncircumcised, high n' sassy sukuna, bondage, lots of teasing, and bits of fluff . » mod comments [a/n]: part of the 'we be burnin' JJK 420 collection (ill make a series post eventually i swear lol). I had the goal of keeping this under 12k and i made it! by 44 words. this was supposed to be a 5k fic but I got carried away because I love exploring modern day tf!sukuna x reader relationship so lots of banter and tid bits.
Enjoy!
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Ok girl. Deep breaths. You got this! 
Standing in front of the large shoji door to Sukuna’s quarters, any nerve you build quickly dissipates by the time you raise your hand to knock.
SHIT-SHIT-SHIT!  
Swaying on your feet, suddenly, you don’t feel so sober anymore. Well, technically you weren’t even sober to begin with—far from it actually, you'd just started the come down from some pretty powerful edibles.
Edibles which happen to be the source of all your troubles now. 
You thought Sukuna leaving, for what you assumed would be a few days, would be the perfect opportunity for you to get completely zoinked off your ass—and that's exactly what you did.
Yet, unbeknownst to you, his plans had changed and he had returned home only after a day.
So when you finally awoke from your weed-induced power nap to discover Uraume had served Sukuna the remaining of the matcha and adzuki manju edibles you had made, you just about fell out.
Uraume had given Sukuna all three dozen of them. 
You didn’t even intend to make so many, but you accidentally doubled the recipe for weed butter and you weren’t about to let good product go to waste. Not with how tough it was to find good weed in Tokyo with it being illegal and all.
But fuck! 
You can’t recall a single time Sukuna ever enjoyed human food—more sated by human flesh instead. 
Yet from what Uruame told you he had already eaten at least five of them already.
Who knew The Curse King had such a fucking sweet tooth?!
Of course, Uraume blamed you once you explained. And true, while you did make the edibles, you certainly didn’t tell their ass to serve them to Sukuna!
Uraume scoffed at you though, claiming anything in Sukuna’s palace belonged to Sukuna—including you and whatever you happened to bake. 
The pompously dull scolds Uraume gave went in one ear and out the other as you rolled your reddened eyes. Eyes which immediately turned into a panic when Uraume demanded it be you, not them, to check up on Sukuna.   
That was the whole reason why you are even in front of Sukuna’s door right now sweating fucking buckets. 
Especially, since Uruame made the utterly insane accusation of you attempting to poison Sukuna. 
You tried to argue that Sukuna is immune to toxins—but Uraume wouldn’t listen to any of that. 
Hell, If you thought you could take Uraume in a fight, even in a more sober state, you would have literally scrapped with their ass before you agreed to check on a possibly high Sukuna. 
Who knows what kind of nefarious time The King of Curses would be on while high!?
Uraume is the one who is his attendant and also fed him the edibles!
They should be the one to go!  
But you also aren’t an idiot. You know for a fact Uraume would hand you your ass and then force you to go check on him anyway. No sense in getting unnecessarily bagged up when Sukuna himself might actually kill you.
So here you were, in front of his door dreading what might be waiting for you on the other side. 
“Woman! You are annoying me more by just standing out there, come-in or fucking leave.”
Piercing your thoughts, Sukuna’s gruff command booms through the door with enough force to make you take a few steps back.
Okay maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so bad?
He sounded normal enough. 
No one high could still be this grumpy.
Sukuna is The King of Curses after all. 
Something as simple as a mere plant shouldn’t have any affect on him, right?
Steeling yourself, you slide open the door to his chambers. 
You make a mental note to fire your therapist, as the deep meditative breathing patterns they recommended does fuck all to temper your increasing anxiety in this situation.
Peering into the room before you enter, you see Sukuna propped on his side atop the wooden engawa patio leading to his private gardens. His nose seems to be buried in some ancient text you can't quite decipher from this distance.
Well, he looks normal enough too—from what you could tell at least.
You walk towards him but Sukuna makes no acknowledgement to greet you. 
However, if you could see his face, you would see the amused evil that pulls up at the corner of his lips. 
Sukuna can sense your uneasiness radiating off of you in waves. 
You’d not been this distressed to be in his presence in quite some time and yet you still sought him out—something you rarely did—even in a good mood. Typically, you’d only come to him when he called for you or when you wanted his cock. 
You had to want something from him—and a slut like you was never shy about asking for dick. 
Interesting.  
Sukuna knew you hated having to humble yourself to ask anything of him, so he took great pleasure in teasing you for it when necessity meant you could no longer delay your request.
Whatever you wanted, Sukuna certainly wouldn’t make it easy for you.
Where would be the fun in that?
And neither would your own body, apparently, make this situation any easier. You nearly trip over your own feet as the paranoid side effects of your high reaches full throttle.
Your eyes growing wider with each step forward.
The vision of the tea set next to him along with the plate of your manju edibles—the now almost empty plate—confirms your fears.
Only one solitary piece remained.
Nervously, you kneel near Sukuna’s feet, your back perfectly straight and your arms extended in front of you. Forcing yourself into an overly formal position to avoid fidgeting any more than you already are.
A tense silence settles between you both—well, tense for you. 
Sukuna seems perfectly content to bask in your discomfort. 
You swallow, unsure how to start.
Even if he wasn’t a malevolent ancient cursed sorcerer, telling someone they’ve been accidentally dr*gged was never going to be a pleasant conversation. 
Although, you still do your best to be covert in your inspection of him—no sense in telling him he’d been dr*gged at all if he wasn’t actually high.
Sukuna on the other hand is growing impatient with your nervous energy. 
When he finally speaks, you’re nearly jumping out of your own skin. 
“Why are your eyes so red, brat? Don’t tell me you’ve been fucking crying again? Is the time of your moon cycle upon us already?”
Did this man for real just ask you if you were on your period!?!?
Exhaling deeply out of your nose, you give him a polite, yet clipped, reply.
“Just allergies, m’lord.”
You wanted to tell him off so bad but you didn’t want to piss him off more than necessary, considering the circumstances. Besides, you were certain your eyes were red as hell right now from being high for the last three hours. So in order to control your temper, you proceed to gaslight yourself into thinking that, for someone like Sukuna, this was a logical assumption to make.
The thought stops you from cussing him out at the very least.
However, Sukuna is astute enough to know you’re lying.
Truthfully, he’d only made the comment to rile you up.  
Not only were you a horrible liar to begin with—but everything from your clenched knuckles, to the way you gnaw on your inner cheek to contain your sass, are all dead giveaways.
Those facts withstanding, Sukuna could tell by the subtle shift in the scent of your intoxicating pheromones alone if you were on your moon cycle or not. 
And it was far too late into summer for it to be allergies.
No, something is on your mind. 
Something you didn’t want to come right out and tell him. 
Not that he tended to care at all about any of your silly concerns, but seeing you had seeked him out in such a frazzled state has him curious.
What other than him could get his favorite lil’ human this upset?
Sukuna immediately loses the little remaining interest he has in his book, all of his interest now focused on you.
His evil grin widens.
“Then is ‘just allergies’ to blame for placing the notion in your dizzy little head that I wanted to be fucking bothered with your presence right now? Or are you telling me ‘allergies’ is a new modern term for sluts wanting dick?”
Son of a bi—and see this is exactly why you actively avoided him when you’re not fucking him! 
Sukuna was obnoxiously insufferable to be around when he wasn’t giving you toe-curling, heart-stopping, vision-blinding orgasms. You surely would have at least tried to escape by now if it wasn’t for that—well, that and the fact he did have a literal palace and you no longer had to have a job or worry about rent, bills and all the other shit you hated about adulting. 
You weren’t treated like a princess but you pretty much had access to everything practical you could ever want. 
Although you were still working on getting a stable internet connection up in the mountains.
Yeah, no, Sukuna wasn’t a bum by any means and you could surely do a lot worse than a mean, forever-grumpy, ancient asshole.
Sigh.
However, as far as you were concerned now, you had two ways you could play this: you could fly off the handle at his intentionally crass insults or you could pay it. 
You choose the latter, knowing he would soon grow bored of you if you just shrugged off his mockery, ignoring him. 
You just need to buy yourself a bit more time to tell for sure if he was high or not. Then you could fuck off and enjoy the remainder of your own high as you wouldn’t be getting stoned for a while now.
Thanks to him eating all your stash.
“Uhhh, no m’lord. I-I just wanted to know how you enjoyed the manju I made. I filled them with matcha and adzuki beans…It was my first time baking them.”
Oh? 
You still wanted to play games?
Sukuna’s gaze darkens at the chance to pick at you more. The more you would lie and beat around the bush the more Sukuna wanted to press your buttons. 
Never getting bored of pissing you off, angering you was his second favorite pastime. You made it too easy to wind you up like a coil until you snapped like a little twig in his grasp. 
All so he had an excuse to do his actual favorite pastime—punishing you. 
Lacking any sort of discipline, you were more of a hot head than he was at times—which was saying something. Sukuna loved to bring you to the very limits of your sanity with his taunting of you. Only so he could watch you helplessly thrash beneath him, frustrated that you could never beat nor overpower him. 
You were a curious little sorcerer who got off on edging death which was apparent from how your fiery anger quickly sparked into shameless arousal, like the massive cockslut you are. You’d be cursing Sukuna to hell before begging him to take you along for the ride.
In turn, Sukuna would bully both of your tight greedy holes, mesmerized by your filthy cunt creaming enough to soil a puddle onto any surface he happen to fuck you on. 
You had to have been a succubus in a past life. 
His sexual appetites were immense but you were nearly insatiable yourself. Fucked out and trembling, with your eyes barely open, you’d never stop pleading him for more until he’d fuck you unconscious. 
Nevertheless, in this lifetime you were a pitifully weak sorcerer in comparison to him—however you could be considered ‘special grade’ if ranked solely on your ability to take dick. 
Truly, your best quality and what has kept you alive thus far. 
At least that’s what Sukuna would tell himself when the thought of you dead leaves him feeling restless and agitated. It’s why he never lets you leave the palace grounds other than with Uraume on their occasional visits into Tokyo. 
Sukuna had deemed you too weak to be left to your own devices outside of his palace.
You were his plaything, to do with as he pleased—and right now, he wanted to make you absolutely lose your shit.
From the way your aura bristled, it was clear you just needed one final push.
And so, Sukuna pushed.
“HA! I could tell—”
On the verge of unraveling altogether, your brow twitches as you count backwards from a hundred in your mind to calm down—another bullshit coping mechanism from your soon-to-be-fired therapist.
100…99…98…
“—thought you filled those manju with horse shit.”
97…9—
Never failing to take the bait, you wouldn’t disappoint him this time either. 
Jumping up, you wobbled on your feet but that didn’t stop you from stomping your foot in indignation with enough force to make the old wooden floorboards creak.
“THEN WHY IN THE EVERLOVING FUCK DID YOUR BIG HUNGRY ASS PRACTICALLY EAT THREE DOZEN OF THEM!?” 
From the looks of it Sukuna was perfectly fucking fine—like you had figured he’d be. 
This had proven to be a complete waste of your time even checking on him. The brief encounter had done nothing but fuck up the remainder of your high since he wanted to be such an ornery bastard about everything.
Forgetting all about your plan to not piss him off, instead you flip him off, storming away. 
“LIKE THEY DON’T EVEN AFFECT YOU?! WHAT A FUCKING WA—”
Like a blur Sukuna rises as his four arms extend to ensnare you.
However lucky for you, you sense him in time to dod—wait… did you just dodge him!? 
No, that's not right he must have missed.
Huh?
HE FUCKING MISSED!?
Whipping your body around, you face him. 
Your wide confused eyes meet his own puzzled gaze, one that you notice is turning increasingly more red by the second to extend beyond just the color of his pupils. 
You don’t even have the time to appreciate how adorably ridiculous the expression is on him before the realization hits—
—OHHHH SHIT—SUKUNA IS HIGH AS FUCK!!!
He likely hadn’t moved from that spot since he so gluttonously devoured your entire tray of edibles. In turn, as is with the nature of getting high, if you are sitting or laying down while you partake, you often don’t realize exactly how baked you are until you finally stand up. 
And from the looks of it the high had just hit him like a fucking semi-truck.
Sukuna was absolutely lit.
Staggering in his stance, a look of surprise is on both of your features. You were for certain Sukuna would have fallen to the ground if not for his hand catching onto the wall beside him. 
His awkward movements are akin to someone suddenly realizing how bulky and inconvenient it was to be approaching 8-feet-tall with four massive arms.
“O-Ohhhh my god, Ohhhh my fucking god! Y-You can actually get high!?!”
Thoroughly gagged, your hands fly to cover your mouth. Always one for inappropriate reactions at awkward and improper times, you can’t suppress your snorts of laughter as the reality of him actually being high settles in. 
Sukuna on the other hand is currently fighting a losing battle with vertigo to find steady footing. His bloodshot eyes take on a more deadly appearance as his pupils glow red in fury to match. 
“W-What the fuck did you do, woman?!”
Did he just stutter too!? 
Oh shit this was too good. 
You cursed yourself for not having your phone on you, but knew better to bring a phone around Sukuna. He’d broken your phones one too many times because he wouldn’t admit he was more jealous of you paying attention to your talking clock (it was TikTok) than him.
Yet at the same time, his accusations that any of this is your fault piss you off further. 
“ME!? I’m not the one who just smashed over 3000 grams of weed! Pretty sure that much would even take down a fucking elephant!!”
In response, Sukuna growls as his cursed energy discharges off of him in erratic waves. Yet the intensity is not nearly as oppressive as you knew it could be.
The weed is clearly having an effect on him. 
“Watch how you speak to your King, brat. I won’t warn you again.”
Dripping with sarcasm you bow dramatically. 
“Oh no, how could I forget my place, Sukuna! How about you ask next time before you just gobble up all my shit? Then this wouldn’t have even happened!” 
When bickering with him, you often dropped all formalities which always got you into deeper trouble.
“S-SHUT THE FUCK UP!!”
CRACK~!
Wood splintered around Sukuna, falling to the ground in a heap. Sukuna had unintentionally misfired a cleave right through the wall next to you and effectively remodeled his chambers to extend into the next room over.
A few strands of your hair get caught in the crossfires and they float in the air beside you, along with the various debris from the wall. 
It’s becoming quite apparent that while high, Sukuna struggles to keep his immense cursed energy in-check and it fluctuates to match his temper. 
The look of shock on your face mirrors Sukuna's, who is now staring at his hand as if he had grown a sixth finger. It’s not a finger though, it's his eye from the face on his hand, bloodshot and red. That's when Sukuna notices the eyes on his face are also bloodshot, perfectly matching yours.
“ASSHOLE! What if that fucking hit me?!”
“Well, you sure as fuck wouldn’t be alive to be screeching at me right now, woman…”
You were seething. 
How is everyone still treating this like it's your fault!?
“No one told you to eat all my edibles, King Big Back!”
Sukuna growled at your insults even if he didn’t really understand them. 
He was huge—of course he had a big back…? 
Your words, which Sukuna deems nonsensical, only make him dizzier and amplified the almost out of body experience he was currently in. Clearly the fault of your so-called “edibles”, Sukuna couldn’t remember the last time he felt so out of sync with himself as he leaned against what was left of the structure.
Not since he’d first adjusted to being a cursed object in his very first host. 
“Well fuck me then, for not realizing you were brewing poison, witch.”
“Yeah fuck you, because its just a plant! A harmless little plant! Didn’t they have hemp back in your pre-historic era, you old fossil?!”
Sukuna growls at your insults, but nonetheless considers your words.
Of course they had hemp. 
Being practically native to Japan it was utilized in many trades, but this had to be a different variety of the plant. Sukuna never heard of it being consumed, as the plant had more pragmatic uses for clothing and tools. 
“For practical use, woman! Not to make potions and consume like some fuckin’ degenerate.”
Your eyes narrowed. 
Sukuna of all people calling anyone else a degenerate was rich. 
“For the last time Kuna—it's not any kind of poison or potion! You’re supposed to be immune to toxins, remember?”  
Sukuna growls once more. 
True, poisons had no effect on him. 
If what he consumed was in fact just a plant, and nothing imbued with venom nor curses, then perhaps this didn’t make the cut? 
Although Sukuna is sure the after-consumption effect has to be akin to something poisonous, since for the first time in likely what had to be a thousand years, the unfamiliar sensation of nausea crept up his throat.
Stepping back inside his chambers, he teeters unsupported on his feet before dropping down to a seated position. The uncoordinated clumsiness of his actions causes the room to shake, sending more fragments of the now-destroyed wall crumbling around the both of you.
Dare you say it, you kinda… feel bad for him?
Sure you were still pissed at him, and in no way were you about to accept responsibility for this…but in this state he looked sort of, well, pathetic. 
You didn’t think you’d ever be using that word to describe Sukuna, who’d time and again proved to be more fearsome than the beasts of nightmares. 
Yet at the moment he was definitely giving off more sad Hello Kitty vibes, rather than a monstrous primordial tiger. All four eyes on his face were dilated to comical proportions and the tired scowl he wore was more akin to a toddler’s pout.
It was… cute?
Upon further appraisal, as he sits with arms and legs crossed like a child after a tantrum, you decide he definitely looks cute.
And dare you say even—baby girl?
Not like you could ever tell him that though. 
You’re sure if you called him that, no matter how weak and uncoordinated he was now, Sukuna would somehow muster the willpower to wring your head right off your pretty little neck. 
Regardless, having Sukuna be so weakened, even temporarily, was unsettling to say the very least. 
“I-I really didn’t think you would eat them, Kuna. You don’t even like human food!”
Your voice takes on a more apologetic tone as you begin to inch over to him. 
Dropping down on all fours, you cautiously crawl closer bit by bit in a similar fashion as to how one would a wounded beast you were scared might lash out—even if you were only trying to help it.
“I don’t ever fucking recall saying that, brat.”
Sukuna hisses but the fatigue was clear in his tone.  The bite in his words hardly evoked the blood-curdling fear he was so easily capable of under normal circumstances.
Sukuna closes his eyes in exasperation, which consequently has you rolling yours. 
Bulllllllshit!
Every single thing that man tried, he hated!
Well, every single modern thing. 
Oh fuck, they had manju back then too, huh?
Stopping once you are directly in front of him, you peer up at him with big doe eyes, sweet and apologetic.
But Sukuna isn’t falling for it—or he didn’t want to at least. 
Cracking open an eye at you before closing it again, Sukuna turns away from you, nose upturned. 
Urgh, what a big diva! 
You almost want the normal, insanely irritating, Sukuna back instead of the blitzed sassy creature before you—almost.
“Listen Kuna, you did eat a whole shit load... More than any grown ass man I’ve ever seen to be honest…”
You shook your head and mumbled the last part under your breath, ignoring his sassy gripes, as he definitely still heard you.
“Ok, so I have literally zero clue as to how long your high will last… but I mean hmm… why don’t you try RCT?”
Sukuna stares daggers at your sheepish expression. 
You had to be an idiot.
If Sukuna could focus his cursed energy enough for RCT he would have fucking done it already! Not to mention, take his sweet time in punishing you too. However, all that would have to wait until the disorienting effect wore off enough to make that possible.
For now though, Sukuna just wants to be alone.
This 'weed' was having strange effects on him, he is growing inexplicably nervous to be in your presence for some ridiculous reason.
“Leave.”
“Nope.”
All four of Sukuna’s eyes flare and stare you down the best they can through his red-eye squints.
“I gave you an order, brat. I won't ask again.”
Sukuna tried his best to deliver his threats in the bone-chilling tone he was so well known for, but it falls flat, yet again, thanks to him being higher than a pair of perky tits. 
His frown, and thereby his pout, intensifies at his current ineffectiveness.
“I can’t just leave you though, Kuna…”
Thinking him docile enough, you slowly crawl into his lap and thread your arms between the two sets of his own, gazing up adoringly at him. Sukuna allows you to do so without fuss, although he doesn’t return your embrace nor does he look at you. 
His own head swirls too much—especially with how his skin begins to tingle just from the sensation of your warm body pressing against his. 
“You need me! What if we were to get attacked by jujutsu sorcerers right now? I’d have to protect you!”
You don’t even try to suppress your giggles this time when your body is shaken by the disgruntled rumbles from his chest.
“Tch—with the few measly crumbs of cursed energy you do possess, you can’t even protect your own fucking self—”
“Hey!”
“—so if that happens, then were both royally fucked.”
Okay, so you weren’t anything close to a super strong special grade sorcerer. But you think you’d be somewhere around grade 1 now, so you could hold your own against most!
At least enough for you both to escape! 
You’d only really be in trouble if that sexy white-haired blue-eyed sorcerer, Gojo Satoru, showed up. Although from the way he winked at you the last time you saw him, saying ‘you’d be prettier as a Jujutsu High teacher instead of one of Sukuna’s lackeys’, you’re pretty sure if you flirted hard enough you’d be okay at least.
Still, you actually liked living with Sukuna a lot more than you cared to admit. Moreover, ‘Jujutsu High teacher’ would qualify as you having to work an actual job—yeah nah, fuck that. 
You’d stay with your ancient asshole, thank you very much.
Bringing your attention back to Sukuna, who had since closed his eyes to keep the room from spinning, you poked a finger into his cheek.
Sukuna ignores you, but you persist.
Your little finger presses deeper and deeper until a mouth forms on his skin to snap at you, causing you to snatch your hand back before you lose said finger. 
“Worry about protecting yourself, brat! You’re aware when this wears off, I’m going to fucking rip you apart and feed you to the mouth on my stomach limb by limb.”
Unphased, you flirtatiously bat your lush lashes as one of your hands slipped through his robes to caress the spot where his mouth forms. 
“Awe Kuna, if you have the munchies that badly and want me to ride your stomach again—all you have to do is ask. I’ll let you eat me right up.”
His abs clenched ever so slightly from your touch.
“Urgh, woman, you should go enjoy the last hours of your life while you still can…”
His threat dissolves into grumbles, still making no attempt to push you off.
Well, if you were in fact about to go to glory as soon as Sukuna could control his powers again—you might as well enjoy yourself while you still can.
“Yeah, yeah, Kuna—but until that happens just relax, okay?  Let’s have some fun, eh? That’s the whole point of being high in the first place!”
Sukuna rolls his eyes but allows you to push him back to the floor. His body feels so heavy and laying down was so much more agreeable than sitting up in his condition.
Still, he couldn’t see how this out-of-body-like experience could be fun. 
Fun for Sukuna was killing. 
Sukuna enjoyed most of his thrills relishing in the screams of his victims as he bathed in their blood which poured so liberally through his deadly claws. 
He even has a pool of blood for god sake!
Well had—until you nagged him pretty much to death, complaining that you couldn’t be expected to bathe in the garden koi pond. As a result, Sukuna had Uraume restore the hotspring to its original state —if only to get you to shut the fuck up.
Hn, now that he considers it, you are way too much fucking trouble than your crazy-ass, tight-ass, lil’ cunt was worth—his current predicament being the ultimate testament to that.
“This isn’t fun.”
It’s your turn to smirk as you straddle him.
“It will be!”
For me at least. 
You don’t say that last part out loud though.
You’re smiling down at Sukuna playfully, pulling your tank top from overhead to reveal your simple pink cotton bra with little flowers printed on them.
Sukuna, who had since draped an arm over his face, regards you skeptically from under his muscular limb with his lower set of eyes.
“And just what do you think you’re doing now, brat?”
“What does it look like asshole? I’m gonna fuck you.”
“And if I tell your bratty ass to fuck off and die?”
“Well, for one—it’s not like you can stop me. And two—when has me saying ‘no’ ever stopped you?”
You stare down at him sweetly.
“Slut.” 
Sukuna snarls, turning his head in a huff once again.
Checkmate.
This was the ultimate win as far as you’re concerned. 
Sukuna had his way with you entirely when you fucked. He was always in control—of everything. Not that the slutty masochist in you ever minded, but you wanted a turn to be the dominant one for once and control his pleasure.
Hell, if you knew marijuana would have this much of an effect on him you would have given him some sooner! 
Besides, you could tell by the way his robes rose on the lower half of his body he was already feeling its euphoric effects. 
Yet you had no idea just how much. 
Sukuna’s already inhuman perception intensifies the experience a hundredfold. His limbs are heavy, as if the floor might give way, libel to sink into the very earth at any moment.
Staring out into the garden, he could see everything in vividly intense hypervision through his dilated orbs.
Every rustle of the leaves, every movement of even the smallest creatures, and every particle in the air took on a lustrous sheen. All his senses were in overdrive, creating a strange euphoria vibrating through his body, suspending him in time—that is until your honeyed voice snapped him out of it.
“Hi~ Look at me, Kuna~~”
Soft hands cup his large face, bringing his sights back to you. Sukuna emits a disapproving grunt, or at least he thinks he does.
He’s not entirely sure. 
With his attention now focused on you, everything else in the world seems to still.
The anxious throbs in his chest seem to prolong each beat, as if his heart might stop altogether. Sukuna concludes that these palpitations and irregular rhythms must be a side effect of the plant.
Has to be.
It certainly wasn’t the way the light of golden hour shimmered on your skin so radiantly, like an otherworldly ethereal creature only seen at dusk—making him feel like he was the inferior mortal in your presence. 
“Don’t float away on me…”
Your voice, filled with angelic mirth, tickles his ears while your fingers gently card through his hair.
Sukuna bites his tongue, drawing out thick, viscous red liquid to suppress the needy purrs bubbling in his throat from your doting caresses.
How could he be the one to float away when you had the appearance of one who had descended from the sky? 
Sukuna's lower set of hands unconsciously brace your thighs like a vice, as if to anchor you and prevent you from levitating away from him.
Goddamn, if not some potion, you had to have cast some twisted spell. 
Everything about you right now was enthralling to him.
Has your skin always been this silky?
Sukuna succeeds in remaining quiet, yet fails in keeping his lower half controlled, involuntarily bucking his hips. His eagerness apparent, you rub your clothed mound over his twin cocks that stiffen beneath you.
Your hands skillfully loosen the knots in his obi to uncover his firm abs and ritualistic tattoos already covered in a sheen layer of perspiration.
Sukuna’s breath hitches when your fingernails graze over his sensitive exposed nipples. 
“Watch it, brat.”
But he sounds so far away now, you don’t really pay him any mind.
You are lost in enjoying some of the far less intense, but still lingering, effects of your own high. 
Humming a saccharine tune, your head tilts back as you relish the pleasurable strain in your inner thighs just from having them span over his broad pelvis. The melody serves as an accompaniment to the steady rhythm of your hips, unraveling him more by the second.
When your eyes do open again, you observe the strain evident across Sukuna’s sharp features. 
You simper, wondering how long Sukuna could hold on before he fell apart completely underneath you?  
Picking up tips from the royal headache himself on how to press buttons, you taunt Sukuna with your coos.
“Are ya still mad at me, Daddy?”
You’re pouting but your mischief is evident, twinkling brightly behind your eyes.
Sukuna’s own eyes narrowed at your boldness. 
You just loved calling him ‘Daddy’ like the filthy whore you are—lacking in any sort of couth.
This whole situation was infuriating for him. 
And as such, Sukuna wants to be mad at you—to teach you a lesson, to have you meet your death at his own powerful hands—but alas—his own body betrays him. 
Your still sparkling aura exacerbates his intoxicated frustrations along with his more carnal desires as euphoria rushes through him. 
His nostrils flare when the candied perfume of your sinful little cunt—already soaked untouched—saturates the air.
Fucking hell—he could practically taste you on his tongue.
“Just get on with it then, if you think you can, woman—”
Giving your rear a firm smack, Sukuna hurries you along.
“—although, I’m sure your weakling ass will give up and be begging me to fuck you within the first minute.”
You roll your eyes. 
Even in spite of his breath laboring slightly, along with minor twitching spasms of his thighs underneath you—he’s still acting tough.
“Hmm, we’ll see about that. Won’t we, Daddy?”
Sticking your tongue out at him, you hop up to kick off your slippers. You take your time in removing your shorts though, hands sensually sliding them down, giving him a little show. 
All four of his eyes follow the provocative sway of your hips intently, just the same as the one time you showed Sukuna what a lap dance was. 
Of course he’d enjoyed it. 
However, where’d you fucked up was mentioning how your previous lovers had enjoyed it too—because your twerking had lasted all of 20 seconds. Sukuna had then pinned you down, growling as he called you all manners of vulgar slut-whore. The result was you limping for the next 2 days, fuck harder than he ever had previously, angered by the thought of you ever having done that for anyone else.
However, as much as you wanted to take your time torturing him for once, you were too selfish to deny yourself. The thought of you having control when fucking him has you dripping. 
Settling back on top of him, you’re on all fours facing towards his cocks. Giving Sukuna a prime view of your pussy in those cheeky pieces of fabric you called undergarments.
This wasn’t a typical view for Sukuna, who was used to looking down at you when you sucked him off from a kneeling position—so he could see exactly how those fat tears would well in your eyes as he ruined your throat when he forced your head even further down.
But this view wasn’t so bad. The growing wet spot on your panties confirms his nose had been accurate. However, you do look every bit of the fiendish whore that you are, getting so wet for him when he hadn’t even touched you.
You’re in your own world though and you audibly gasp upon peeling back the lower half of his robes. Taken aback by the thick globs of pre that gather at the very tip of his engorged cockheads. His essence pools in the folds of his foreskin until no more fluid could be contained, overflowing down his uncut length. 
You’d never seen him this leaky before.
Your pillowy lips experimentally blow cool air across both tips and Sukuna hisses as his cocks twitch in your hands. Wasting no time, your tongue deviantly flattens as you lick up the trail of dribble that ran down his upper shaft. 
His lower cock was hardly forgotten as your thumb completely uncovers the hidden tip. The well of pre spilling from him allows you to more easily pump his slightly girthier length in circular motions while you continue to salaciously suckle the other.
Sukuna unwillingly rewards you with an audible grunt of pleasure.
“Hnng—Y-You’re a fuckin’ cocktease! S-Suck me right, whore!”
You giggle at his faltering voice and Sukuna smacks your ass in response. His heavy hand still stings your skin even in his weakened state, making you all the wetter. 
For each kitten lick, a slap to one of your plump cheeks rings through his chamber. 
Sukuna is captivated by the way your flesh molds to his touch. He kneads each of your cheeks in his giant hands, leaving them warm and tingling. 
The abuse to your rear goes straight to your pussy. You forget for a second that it's Sukuna, and not yourself, who is supposed to be the subservient one in this situation.
“Hurry up, brat! You seriously think a half-assed job like that is enough for me to cum?”
In response to his provocations, your warm breath salivates over his swollen glands before entirely engulfing his upper cock.
Pulling off of him with a pop you alternate taking the other one into your mouth. Sukuna flinches as you swirl your tongue around his lengths. Vacuuming your lips, you alternate between the two twin cocks.
Sukuna grits his teeth. 
He had taught you to take him completely, although he always forced your throat open. He was genuinely surprised that you could do it on your own, which, to be honest, you probably couldn't have done without the weed relaxing the muscles in your neck and throat.
That’s when you hear it—the tiniest of whines—but a whine nonetheless.
“HA! See!—Kunaaaa, did you actually—”
If you could have seen his face you would have giggled at the pink that lightly dusted his features. Regardless, Sukuna isn’t one to take being bested lightly. 
Sukuna hooks a finger through the crotch of your panties, yanking up roughly. From this angle, the effect only puts tension on your pussy—tugging your panties taunt and compressing your clit. You keen loudly as you release his cocks, no longer able to focus on getting him off.
“FUUHHHHCK!”
One hand keeps your panties pulled taut, another hovers over the most heat of your core, lazily rubbing over your covered entrance. Your ever increasing wet spot has him in a trance like state as it spreads to take over your entire crotch area, dampening his fingers.
RIIIIIIIP!
Sukuna tears your underwear clean off, shredding them, 
Damn. Those were one of your favorite pairs of lounging panties too! 
You're ready to tell him off but you never get the chance as two large fingers bully their way into your pussy, leaving you sobbing.
Even over the vulgar sloshing of your sloppy hole, you can audibly hear a rough moan from Sukuna as your core constricts around his burly fingers. Your hands and knees tremble violently as you struggle to maintain your balance.
Sukuna’s tactile sensations at its peak, he is in awe of how well your gummy walls suck his thick digits in further. The velvety ridges of your cunt was like an incubator of fiery heat—a heat that may even rival that of his own divine flame technique.
“W-Waiiiiiiit—N-No fair, K-Kuna!”
Of course, your pleading slurs go unheeded. 
Like a mortal who had dipped his hand into a heavenly jar of warm ambrosia, the allure of your cunt in his intoxicated state is bewitching to say the very least. Sukuna’s hyperfixation is focused on a single-minded mission to dig out more and more milky nectar from your convulsing lil’ hole.
Your searing walls clench down when a sharp nail grazes your g-spot. Crying out, your eyes sink back into your head and your slick pours down the length of his muscular forearm.
Sukuna enjoys making a mess of you. 
Your fluids splash across his broad chest, arms and a bit even reaches his face—mouth forming on his cheek to greedily lick up your remains.
Even with limited control over his own faculties, Sukuna was still able to turn you into a quivering mess.
Dammit! You were supposed to be the one in control! 
You can only weakly grasp at his cocks as the motions of his fingers switch from languid exploratory strokes to fast pumps, adding a third finger and pressing a thumb into the rim of your puckered hole.
Stirring up your insides, Sukuna, to be frank, isn’t doing it for your reactions but for your pussy’s. 
Mind clouded, Sukuna fully dissociates once again in his enchantment of you, he doesn’t even realize you aren’t sucking him off any longer. He is much too distracted by every response your gooey cunt gifts him.
If anyone had asked him, in his utterly toked state, Sukuna would have sworn your cunt was actually squelching out full sentences. Sukuna, of course —fully fluent in ‘Cuntanese’—understands her with sparkling clarity.
She wanted more, to cum even harder. 
She’s so fucking warm, so creamy, so lewd—all for him.
Becoming more sloppy and unaware in his actions, Sukuna’s growling increases. His current frustrations centered on needing to see more of your creamy slick spurt out of you. 
Somehow all four of his hands are covered in your essence now. The hands with fingers not inside your pussy or rimming your ass, spread your cheeks wider, holding them up as the remaining one pinches your clit crudely. 
Helplessly, ass up, you lay your head down on one of his upper thighs. You drag your nails alongside his hips hoping to disrupt his daze, but on the contrary, it does nothing but spur on Sukuna’s mania further. 
The both of you being high made the situation that much worse. 
Sukuna’s fingers drive you towards oblivion, crashing into ecstasy. The edges of your vision smoldered, blurring your sight. You aren’t sure if the sun had finally set and the stars you saw were in the sky or behind your own lids, momentarily disassociating from pure pleasure. 
With a scream, you cum for the second time, your eyes locked behind your skull and your legs spasming as waves of pleasure make your hips twitch uncontrollably.
Holy fuck!!! You’d never cum that hard while high before! 
Sukuna finally snaps out of his enthralled reverie, only to discover you’ve been reduced to a mere puddle on his torso. Your holes are agape and swollen from his brutality, glistening with fluids that hadn’t stopped dripping onto him yet.
You practically see his smug grin, a fang poking out from his lips, just from his smarmy tone.
“Heh—giving up that easy just from a couple fingers in your cunny, brat? Thought you were gonna fuck me?”
You whine. Even if his own voice sounded a bit strained it was nothing compared to your own condition. Yet despite your rubbery limbs, you muster the strength to push your jellied body up—determined to have your way with him. 
Sukuna chuckles at your persistence.
The mouth on his stomach opens to lap away at the remains of your squirt on his torso and your slick-coated thighs. The thick slimy tongue has you jolting forward with a rippling moan when it flicks over your sensitive clit.
“Heh, woman, you look like shit.”
HA! How are you going to fuck him when you could barely be touched without shaking? 
Sukuna guess you’ll be tapping out before the first round is over, tch—of course you’d need him to take over. 
Testing his condition, Sukuna raises his head only to be immediately slammed with vertigo rushing psychedelic colors behind his eyes. He curses lowly to himself, still pissed the plant is having this much of an effect on him.
Sukuna makes a promise to himself that he will in fact kill you, iif you leave him blue balled because of this. The high causes his cocks to ache more than ever.
“Tch—If you’re going to do it, then do it. Fuck me then, ya nasty lil’ slut.”
Sukuna was right, you are a slut.
Fucked out by his fingers or not, your still aching pussy wouldn’t be satisfied until she was stuffed full of him.
But it would still be on your terms.
Sukuna looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to move and feigning boredom. 
However, his mood turns to annoyance though when he notices you only plan to take his bottom cock, he didn’t work that ass of yous ass open for nothing. 
“BRAT—”
“—SHUT IT and let me concentrate if you wanna get your nut!”
You do quiet him though, once you manage to squeeze his thick cockhead into your cunt. Pussy clenching around his tip like a vacuum suction, you hear Sukuna slurp a thick wad of spit through his teeth as he grinds down on them. 
It was cute, him trying not to react to you, That serves as enough encouragement to keep you from mentally succumbing to the monstrous girth entering you—for now at least.
Easing yourself lower on his fat girth, you’re panting, tongue out and hips quivering just from getting the head of him inside.
You’d learned to take him well enough, but that was when he was the one bullying himself into you. Having to mount him yourself was daunting to say the least. Only halfway in and your guts are shifting while moisture burns the corners of your eyes.
This was the exact reason you chose not to take in both his cocks. 
You would struggle enough with just one of them. 
His cock inside you, already pressed against your cervix, he is almost 3/4ths in and you have no idea how you will manage the rest. Suddenly wondering if Sukuna uses some kind of curse technique to fit all of him inside you without skewing your organs.
“Shiiiiit, f-fuckin’ dummy thick monster c-cock, this b-big for no f-fuckin’ reason…”
You mumble to yourself, clearly floundering.
Sukuna smirks at your labored efforts but his mask cracks as you finally surrender to gravity and bottom out on him—the resulting cry from him is somewhere between a growl and a whine. 
That was the end of resistance for Sukuna. 
His ultra-sensitive cock twitching in the sweltering embrace of your gummy walls, convinced his dick might melt off then and there—the heat, he decided, was most definitely hotter than his divine flames.
Once nside you, Sukuna returns his bruising grip to your hips. His trembling fingers betray the fact he still doesn’t have the capacity to regain control anytime soon. 
Exhaling your own shaky breath, legs under you, you lean back. One of your arms reaching back to plant on his muscular thigh, the other pressing his unattended shaft into the soft curves of your belly, adjusting yourself so its base brushes up against your clit. 
Your warmth welcomes his unsheathed cock like a soft pillow and he’s biting his lips again, blood trickling down his chin.
Although he’s still leaking more than enough pre for lubricant, you still dip your head forward momentarily to drop a large wad of dribble on the cock nestled against your curves. 
Your perverse acts are the cherry on top for Sukuna, who keens out a moan so loud, so needy and pathetic, it has your own toes curling. Fueling you to milk more from him as you bring down your hips harder, morphing The Curse King to goop beneath you.
Your own whimpers are just as obscene from the sight of his length extending past your belly button. It was surreal to see a distinct outer visual of just how deep his inner cock is inside you, you could feel them press together through your skin.
God, he was nearly in your ribs.
“S-Shiiiiiiit—M-MOVE! Ya f-fuckin’ dumbass brat!”
Sukuna yells at you, speech slurring, as his nails prick into your skin slightly. 
You chose not to sass him this time though, too needy for it as well. 
Establishing a rhythm, if you had the capacity to imagine anything beyond how his cock was spearing you open between your thighs—you might have mused that any curses in his palace—Uraume especially, must be absolutely terrified at what has their fearsome master is sobbing so wretchedly.
You’re thrilled at the idea of having transformed the most powerful cursed sorcerer into the crumbling virgin-like man beneath you. 
You feel your body tremble as his swollen member throbs intensely inside you, causing you to sense the rhythmic pulsation of his heart resonating deeply within your being. Sukuna's face, usually composed, now displays an unexpectedly stressed expression, which only adds to his adorableness.
Yet, your own eyes were crossing so bad you couldn’t even enjoy your victory like you want. 
Desperately moaning, you’re lifting yourself up and down, riding him in earnest as you fuck yourself dumb on his huge girth. Just one of Sukuna’s cocks were so intoxicating and you realized, the privilege of actually having him fuck you instead of you doing the work.
In order to guarantee both of your pleasures. 
But you are hardly giving up—slippery fluids create delicious friction as his top cock also slides over your swollen clit.  Your tits bounce lively every time your tight soggy pussy devours his cock back down to the base. The sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room, only overshadowed by Sukuna's unusual cries of pleasure. 
Your inner thighs ache from exertion but you are in the zone now. You’ve willingly become your own torturer as you impale yourself on him. 
Mind floating away as you treat his cock thrusted against your belly like a fidget toy. Your nails mindlessly rim the edges of his foreskin before grasping the tip of his cockhead, sliding the last bit of skin down to fully expose his angry bulbous tip. You squeeze him tightly while your other hand comes from behind you to pump the base. 
While Sukuna’s lower hands still desperately hang on to your hips, he's since thrown one of his upper hands over his face much to his chagrin. The other, claws fully extended, proceeds to tear up the tatami matting of his floor. 
Sukuna’s pitchy whimpers and badly suppressed whines have you so hot you forget yourself once again. Chasing your own pleasure, you pump his upper cock like slippery reigns as you ride him. 
And that is exactly what breaks him. 
Peeking out from under his forearm, Sukuna observes how your head is like a bobble, lulling with your movements as your slackened jaw so dumbly seeps drool down your body. All thought leaving your silly little head, babbling nonsensical coos and praises for his big cock ruining you.
Despite not being in control, Sukuna still feels a strange wave of warmth spread in his chest from watching you fuck yourself completely fucking stupid on him. The feeling instantly has his balls tightening, resulting in his upper cock twitching so violently that it even catches your fucked out attention. 
You glance down just as his engorged length finally relieves itself, spurting out a geyser of cum all over you.
Sukuna releases a moan that is husky, deep and guttural—quite literally guttural—as he had just moaned from the mouth on his stomach. His upper cock is still spraying a hefty load of cum that covers your stomach, thighs and some even shooting up to hit you right below your eye. 
Your eyes widen.
“Did you just moan from your tummy!?”
You’re hardly in the position to tease him though, disheveled and covered in his sticky essence.
You were quite the mess in your own right—heh, but you still weren’t the first to cum! 
Sukuna glares at you, panting through his scowl with watery eyes.
Leaning forward, you continue to taunt him, keeping your hand firmly around his now flaccid member. Sukuna flinches and hisses, attempting to swat your hands away, but he finds himself even more weakened than before, unable to pry you away.
“Hmm, are you trying to tell me you prefer my hands over my pussy?l Or are you just this much of a slut for getting your nasty foreskin played with, Daddy?”
His lower cock pulses at your words, still painfully hard inside you, reminding you of your own needs. You don’t wait for Sukuna’s response before you’re back bouncing on him with increased fervor, pulling at your neglected tits and still giving him shit.
“C’mon Daddy, talk to me. You love it when your lil’ slut rides you while she’s all sticky, covered in your cum, yeah?”
For emphasis your fingers swirl shapes into the streaks of spunk on your belly, sloppily writing out the Kanji for “Sukuna” over your womb.
Sukuna’s face beet red from the anger and shame of having been reduced to a mere plaything for you.
Writing his name on you with his cum!? Fuckin’ debased, foul, nasty wh—
“Oh my, you’re backed up, Daddy. I can feel you twitching—a-ah!”
You snap him out of the turmoil of his thoughts with the lazy lust-filled evil saturated in your voice as you moan out more torturous, mind melting words for Sukuna.
“Y-ou’re gonna have to tell me before you cum, Kuna, kay? You spray this much inside me, with this thick monstrous cock of yours—you’ll get me pregnant, ya know. You wouldn’t want that—or do you?”
Your fingers play in his essence on your belly once more, circling the Kanji cum scribbles of his name branded on your skin. 
“Bet ya wanna fill my tight lil’ pussy to the brim—force me to carry your lil’ curse-spawn-terrors—make you a real daddy, Daddy. You’d like that, huh?”
Sukuna’s sweat slicked hands struggle to hold onto you, throwing his head back so he doesn’t have to look at you. 
He can’t keep you in his sights as he can’t stop the vision of you, being completely made his—belly full of his growing seed and tits full of milk—from invading his mind. 
Dizzy, Sukuna can only think with his cock as you ride him towards nirvana. He’s almost at his greatly diminished limit again, his stamina now a joke of his usual.  
Chasing your own high, you rub at your clit vigorously while you grind yourself against him. Your pussy spasming around his length that stretches you so well. Body wrecking itself with pleasure, your cries grow louder and more desperate.
So close. You’re so close. So clo—
But Sukuna is first yet again—crooning out a choked roar as he cums again, this time inside you.
With no warning....asshole.
Nevertheless, the satisfying warmth of his seed bursting against your cervix has you moaning from the overwhelmingly full feeling in your guts. Creampie frothing out of you, gathering at the base of his cock. 
You were low key surprised that you were able to goad him into doing it at all. You weren’t seriously trying to get pregnant—just tease him a bit. You didn’t know he’d be this into breeding fantasies, as even though you are on birth control Sukuna for damn sure didn't trust any human pill to stop his cursed seed, always pulling out.
“W-Woah, this makes it, what? The second time you’ve cum before me—and inside me now too!”
The streaks on Sukuna’s furious cheeks leave behind evidence of the few tears you’d managed to fuck out of him.
“Aweee Kuna, should I call ‘Baby’ now? Only babies cry and cream before Mommy does.” 
Sukuna chest heaves, staring death at you as he gives you the finger—one of the few modern gestures he’d picked up. 
You laugh, although your body winces as you slide his thick softening member out of you. 
Globs of your shared fluids drip out of you and onto his torso when you finally will yourself to stand-up over Sukuna, smugness radiating in your whole demeanor.
Desiring to remove that smug expression from your face, as well as your head, he cannot recall a time when he was defeated to such an extent since he was last imprisoned and his fingers were scattered.
Teetering on your cramping legs, you delight in your victory nonetheless. Taking your time in soaking up the image of him, grumpy, soiled, and flaccid, imprinting it in your mind to throw it in his face the next time he decides to get sassy with you.
You know he’s likely going to kill you for what you were about to do, but you’d never get a chance to do something like this again. 
Besides, he surely has weed dick now given his still flaccid cocks and you still need to come!
Sauntering to stand by his head, your soft foot presses down on his clavicle, prompting Sukuna to bare his teeth while a clawed hand comes to wrap around your ankle.
“Heel, Kuna. You still have to make me cum.”
“I don’t have to do fucking shit but make good on my promise to rip you apart once this bullshit wears off.”
You pay him no mind as your foot shifts to raise his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze while your fingers swiftly glide up your inner thighs to spread your pussy lips. His cum still trickling out from the creamy plug that is visibly filling your center. 
“Eat it.”
Sukuna looks at you skeptically, like you just lost the little remaining sanity your crazy ass had in the first place.
Who the fuck did you think you were?
To one—have him take a command from you, and two—actually think he’d let you dominate him in such a way.
Sukuna scoffs.
“Sit on my stomach and I might let you cum, brat.”
“Nuh-uh, Kuna—I wanna ride your actual face. It’s the least you can do after you came before me twice!”
Trying not to visibly wince, Sukuna was so over your nagging and constant reminders of how weak he was while high, trying to tune you out. 
“...and then inside me without warning—like you don’t give a fuck if I happen to get pregnant!”
“I don't, get pregnant.”
“I—wait…WHAT?!”
You must have heard wrong. 
Sukuna would want a lobotomy before a kid. 
He always pulled out. 
He just did not tell you to get pregnant.
No way!
Sukuna growls, he’s admittedly getting tired, but it's clear you wouldn’t give him any rest until you came once more. Well, at least with a mouth full of pussy he couldn’t say anymore wildly embarrassing shit he didn’t mean.
He really didn’t want kids, but picturing you pregnant made his dicks so unfathomably hard in the moment, it was confusing, not to mention infuriating. However, the last damned thing Sukuna wanted to do was talk about his slip up.
Left with no choice but to eat you out nasty enough for you to forget all about it.
“I SAID—If you don’t want to get pregnant, then park that ass of yours on my face, bitch.”
You bristle at Sukuna calling you a bitch, yet you let it pass once all four of his arms yank you down to sit you directly on his face, his tongue plunging straight into your gooey cunt.
And true to his skills, the conversation was the last thing on your mind, having been scrubbed of all thoughts once you felt his hot mouth consuming your sensitive flesh. 
Sukuna's tongue traces torturous circles on your clit, before grazing it with sharp canine, prompting your hands to delve into his unruly locks. The grunts that escape Sukuna's lips as you tug on his hair intensify the pleasurable tingling in your pussy, compelling you to pull even harder.
To your delight, what his primary tongue lacks in girth compared to the one on his stomach, it makes up for in dexterity. Sukuna laps, swirls and twists through your folds. His tongue darts in and out of your wet slit so vulgarly leaking his cum, sending tremors up your spine.
Choking on your whimpers, your hips can’t stop shaking and Sukuna has to brace your thighs down to keep you in place. Sukuna wasn’t about to let you run from it now, not after all the shit you put him through.
You begged to cum in his mouth—so you are going to cum in his fucking mouth.
You cry out when a hand reaches up to manhandle your chest, pinching at your nipples and rolling them between his gruff fingers.  The pair of hands on your thighs move to your ass, gripping your flesh overflowing in his grasp.
Gasping, your mouth falls open, when his fingers massage your ass, spreading it open as he tilts you back to spit into your hole. Replacing his own mouth with one on his hand as he returns his attention back to your savory lil’ cunt.
Shiiiiiit!
Feels so good, you’re so close to cumming again. Your body trembles, the fire inside you spreading from your core to your fingertips as your face contorted in pleasure.
“Su-S-Sukuna, pleeeaseee, Daddy.”
You’re not even sure what you are asking for at this point, you just want more of it. 
More of everything.
Sukuna, obliges you. 
Losing himself in your lust, his panting becomes more wet and ragged. He’s painfully aroused once again, this time simply from listening to your whiney pleas. Sukuna’s tongue digs into your cunt deeper, scooping out his own cum and devouring it along with the continuous flow of your own fluids gushing out of you.
Your taste is much sweeter, cutting the unpleasant taste of his own salty spunk, so Sukuna relentlessly sucks more out of you. 
Sukuna is so caught up in giving you pleasure, he’s completely unaware of the fact he’s now humping the air, cocks flinging pre on his abs as they sway against the imaginary friction.
“K-Kuna, I’mma—shiiiiit—cum!”
You clench a fist full of his hair, nails digging into his scalp. You continuously buck your hips forward, your clit brushing agonizingly up against his nose. Quivering, glorious waves of pleasure wash over you, Sukuna knows all your pleasure spots as he easily takes you to the very heights of your ecstasy.
Sputtering moans nonsensically, you nearly slip off Sukuna completely when you tilt back too far. You unintentionally end up choking him as you catch yourself by grasping onto his neck for support.
Sukuna, caught off guard, gags. The intense vibrations from him choking on your pussy as he heaves for air tips you right over the edge. Your world washes white as you cum, thighs and hips and convulsing. 
Outlasting you this time by a hair, Sukuna cums hard, his milky fluids jetting out from his cocks to spill onto his stomach—shooting up as far as to land on your back.
Dazed from your orgasm you don’t actually realize he'd cum again until you actually slip on the mess he’s made when you begin to climb off his face.
“D’aww, Baby done messed himself bad this time, huh?”
“Perish.”
Weariness seeps through his tone, betraying the fatigue that weighed on him after cumming even harder than the previous two times.
Silence fills the space as neither of you noticed before how the sun had long since set. The soft moonbeams were the only source of light in his chambers, illuminating the space more than usual, due to the now destroyed wall.
Your bones feel like mush but you still manage to grab Sukuna’s discarded robe, using it to somewhat wipe off your bodies. 
Sukuna doesn’t register how intensely he’s staring at you, having dissociated once more. 
His arrogance is replaced by a strange look of infatuation—well strange for him.
Sukuna is lost again, charmed by your shining aura in the lunar light. The very essence of your soul glows iridescently to him, even in darkness.
He muses there’s not a being, human nor curse, as captivating as y—TCH, THE FUCK?!
Whatever you gave him was turning him into a real fuckin’ sap, thats for damn sure. 
Sukuna needed this nightmare to be over, and have neither of you ever speak of it again.
You on the other hand are doing your best to fight the urge to bashfully shrink away. There were typically only 3 emotions that ever appeared on Sukuna’s face: brooding, predatory or straight up hostile.
Him looking at you this way is freaking you out.
“You’re a weirdo.”
Sukuna exhales, exasperated. 
He doesn’t know what to do with you. His troublesome lil’ human that, for some insane reason, he’d formed an attachment to beyond using as a cocksleeve.
“Then you’re a dumb slut who likes to fuck weirdos, brat.”
Shoving your face into his neck, you inhale the scent of his skin and your sex.
“Got me there, Daddy.”
Nibbling up to his chin, one of his arms wrap around you, bringing you impossibly closer when your teeth graze over his sweat slicked Adam's apple. 
Grinning at him, you lick up any of your essence lingering on his face.
“You know, I’m going into the city with Uraume next week—I could get some more of this shit, we could actually smoke it next time, hm?”
“You could also be a corpse scattered in a million pieces by then.”
Although Sukuna’s yawns sound more like roars, he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed at his displays of weakness any longer. The edible enhanced the stated feelings of the after sex high, amplifying it a hundred fold and making him unusually docile. 
Even if Sukuna could now understand why mortals do this for “fun”, he personally just never wanted near the stuff again—let alone in his fucking palace.
But he’d fight you over that later.
“Moreover, I will literally never eat any of your concoctions again.”
You’re yawning too, the effect being contagious as the question absentmindedly slips from your lips.
“...Hm, s’that so? *yawn* ….Well why did ya in the first place, Kuna?”
Tsk, stupid woman—because you made them, of course.
Sukuna said it in his head. 
Sukuna swore he said it in his head.
But when you immediately bolt upright, eyes expanding like saucers, he knows he fucked up. 
Attempting to recover, he tacks on a brash comment. Remarking on how he knew consuming them all would piss you off—oh and it had—but in this case, the damage had already been done.
Concern flashing across your eyes, you hurriedly brush your fingers through his rosy locks. Picking and prodding, firmly turning his head from side to side, until Sukuna’s own hands entrap yours, pausing your frantic actions.
“And just what the fuck are you doing now, woman?!”
“Checking for stitches.”
Sukuna gives a disgruntled snort, scoffing at your foolishness.
“I’m serious! Kenjaku’s not in there with you, is he?!”
“You must actually think I won’t kill you, brat….”
You giggle softly, satisfied with his answer as you peck tender kisses on his lips but Sukuna is unmoved. 
Sukuna hardly ever kisses you to be fair—but you’d just fucked him to tears! 
The least he can do to repay you is a kiss!
“C’mon Kuna, stick out your tongue a lil’ for me.”
Sukuna stares at you unamused.
“Aweee—Please, Daddy?”
Your words hang in the air, a rebuttal poised on the edge of his lips. 
But upon meeting your bright angelic eyes, Sukuna in a moment of unexpected impulse, closes the gap between you. 
Your lips clash as you breathe in one another. The kiss is less urgent than your earlier cravings, but just as filled with desire. A tumultuous dance of tongues and teeth, fueled by some magnetic pull that would likely never be vocalized in words—yet you still feel everything Sukuna leaves unsaid.
You smile once he allows you to pull back for air, blowing a kiss at him before resting your head back on his chest. Your body easily molds over him and his remaining arms snake around your form.
All of Sukuna’s eyes were closed, the welcome heaviness behind his lids extending down through his entire being.
Honestly, this is the most at peace he’s been in centuries. 
“Mmm…one more question, Kuna?”
Of course, you would be the one to disturb that though.
“Only if you promise to go the fuck to sleep after, brat.”
You nod into his chest, your hands only cupping a tiny part of his biceps as your manicured nails trace along his tattoos.
“How’d they taste?”
Seriously? 
You’re fucking insufferable. 
But Sukuna is way too over it all to fight you right now.  His entire body feels akin to a giant sandbag with every passing second.
“Decent. Now sleep.”
Your shrill squeal has him regretting his compliment immediately. 
“Aweee Kuna, Daddy! You big softie! Next you’ll be telling me you love me, huh?”
Tsk, and this is exactly why Sukuna would fuck you unconscious—so he didn’t have to put up with your nonsensical overly emotional prattling after. The intimacy of pillow talk has him queasier than the vertigo he’d experienced earlier. 
“I loathe you.”
“Love you t—”
Faster than you can react, his powerful hands move, grappling your head down and clamping over your mouth instantly.
“SLEEP!”
Listening to the grumbles resonating in his chest from Sukuna's unintelligible muttered curses, you hum contentedly with his hand over your mouth, a simple ghost of a smile lingering on your lips as you ease into a comforting slumber.
The next morning, you are stirred awake by blinding sunlight.
Still lethargic from the night before, and totally not a morning person, you try to roll over. Yet you find yourself unable to move. 
Huh?
Wanting to rub your eyes clear of sleep, you become aware that your hands, for some reason, are behind your back and are also immobilized.
Panic begins to set in. You fear it might be a bad bout of sleep paralysis—that is, until you hear Sukuna’s dark voice bellow over you sarcastically.
“Oh? What’s this? The lazy whore finally arises…”
Heart pounding anxiously, your bleary eyes open to the vision of Sukuna’s form towering over you next to his bed. 
Ok, at least he had the decency to—
A flash of red catches your eye.
Oh, fuck…
Entangled in the shibari frog-tie position—you are bound in complex knots. The thick silk crimson ropes intricately weave their way around your naked body. 
Tied with seasoned precision, the visually striking pattern of the ropes accentuated your body’s serpentine contours. Knees bent, your plump thighs are spread wide and apart, which secure to your calves. 
You feel a chill run through you as the early morning air breezes past your cunt, fully exposed as the ropes are the only thing adorning you.
Equally excited as you are terrified, your squirms cause the diamond cut pattern to imprint deeper into your supple skin. Shivering under his smolder, goosebumps erupt across your skin and fat tears well on the edges of your eyes.
Sukuna sinks low to crouch over you.
“Now, now—”
His powers fully restored, the depraved smirk Sukuna wears is the most chilling you’d ever seen.
“—you didn’t delude your silly little head into thinking I wouldn’t get my turn, now did you?”
Sukina cups your face, the mouth on his hand savoring your tears.
The harsh reality donning upon you as to how fucked you really are in this situation right now.
Shifting his grasp to squeeze your cheeks, Sukuna forces your mouth open. 
Fully awake, your eyes nearly pop out of your head as Sukuna unveils a platter—the same platter bearing the last remaining manju edible.
“Now fucking say ‘ahh’ for Daddy, brat.”
©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.
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» a/n: what you think of 420 Sukuna? Hopefully it wasn't too long/dragged on? this is meant to be a one shot btw. im really not trying to do a p2 (please, lmfao i cant). i still have a toji 420 fic half written and an idea for nanami but putting those on the back burner to finish another installment of otaku!gojo or nerd geto p2, one of those will be next. i promise! taglist will be in reblogs.
comments & reblogs make my coochie cream
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miupow · 4 days ago
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강태현 一 ᴘᴜᴘᴘʏ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ .ᐟ
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soobin has his good friend taehyun watch his puppy for a night... but she unexpectedly goes into heat! he can't give in to her begging, he isn't even her owner! oh, but she's just so cute when shes needy...
★ pairing。kang taehyun x fem!reader‎‎ x choi soobin ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎g。⧼ 📖 ⧽ smut , pwp ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎cw。non-idol au・puppy hybrid!reader・mating cycles/in heat・breeding kink・mean dom!taehyun・degredation and praise kink・doggy style・unprotected sex・talk of creampies・manhandling・strength kink・allusions to group sex ・frottage ・sex on furniture ・daddy kink at the very end ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎wc。1. 1 k | to library。
★ requested。" pet sitter!taehyun and puppy hybrid!reader " from my darling @jenomov
notes from lia。i'm not the biggest fan of how this turned out, for some reason i find hybrid!reader difficult to write... but i hope you all enjoy it!!!
“hyung, what do i do?” taehyun whispers urgently into his phone, sat ramrod-straight against the back of the couch. his leg bounces nervously, free hand white knuckling the armrest as if it were the only thing keeping him upright— it very well could be with how you were clambering on top of him.
“taehyunnie, just once, please? i promise i’ll be a good girl!” you whine into his ear, nails scratching desperately at his soccer jersey. your soft puppy ears tickle his tan skin.
“holy shit, is that her?” soobin’s voice crackles over the receiver, sounding more amused than anything. “i’ve never heard her talk like that before. aww, she sounds so sad…”
“hyung.” taehyun grits his teeth. “i’m being serious. you gotta come back, i don’t know what to do— i knew i shouldn’t have agreed to watch her, i told you i don’t know a damn thing about hybrids!”
“are you sure she’s in heat?” came soobin’s reply.
“are you serious?! do you think i’m stupid? she’s dripping all over my fucking lap.”
it was a sight that taehyun was sure would stay with him for the rest of his life. those tight little shorts you were wearing did nothing to stop the outpour of slick dribbling down your thighs, soaking through your clothes to the point they’ve molded themselves against the curves of your ass and pussy. you grind your cunt down hard and desperate against his jean-clad thigh, rubbing your clit against the rough fabric and leaving a large noticeable wet spot in the denim. it was obscene, like some dirty fantasy from the recesses of his imagination come to life. taehyun could feel his sanity chipping away bit by bit every agonizing second he sat there like an idiot watching you seduce and defile him. as much as he tried to will it away, his cock was growing so hard that it was starting to get painful, the throbbing shaft straining against his fly as if it were trying to burst through. he could tell from the glee on your face that you could feel it against your thigh.
but you were soobin’s no matter how hard his dick got, even if he was the one that you were begging for. the fingers of his free hand shake with the effort it took for him not to grip himself through his pants.
“a pretty bad storm’s blown through the city, there’s no way i can come back home tonight.” soobin sighs, snapping taehyun’s wandering attention back to the conversation in hand. “besides, as bad as it makes me feel, i can’t miss this conference. the ceo is going to be there; my entire job depends on this stupid presentation. i’m so nervous i feel like i’m gonna be sick… “
“tyunnie….” you mewl into his neck, tearing his attention back to you. your voice was honeyed and dripping with desperation, sugary sweet whimpers and whines tugging at taehyun’s belly deliciously. so pathetic, erotic, and debauched… better than any pornstar he’s ever heard. he can’t tear his eyes away from your drippy cunt and it’s hypnotic movements against him, the way he could see you getting wetter and wetter through your soaked little boy shorts. “it hurts so bad, feels so empty— need to get bred, please, just give me your cock!”
“holy shit, she sounds so slutty…” soobin sighs wistfully, just as distracted by you as taehyun was. “god, what i wouldn’t give to be back home right now… why aren’t you taking care of my baby? she’s asking so nicely, using her words like i taught her to— do you not want to help her?”
taehyun splutters, shamefully unable to force himself to stop you when you paw at the bulge in his pants, pretty watery eyes looking up at him wantonly; for a frightening moment, taehyun wondered if you could somehow read his mind.
“i-i mean, yes, i do— but. um.” the sensation of your wet hot tongue lazily swiping across his jawline makes his entire body jolt, his erection twitching against your squeezing hand. he chokes on a moan, instead squeaking oddly into the receiver. “s-she’s your hybrid, hyung. you would be better for her anyway, are you sure you don’t want to just wait until you get back..?”
“i’m saying it’s okay, aren’t i? she can’t wait that long. take care of her for me, i’ll be home tomorrow.”
︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶
taehyun’s never felt this dirty in his life. your wagging tail brushes against his abs as he pounds you over the armrest, your face mashed into the couch cushions by his broad hand pushing down on the back of your head. your floppy ears bounce along with your tits with his thrusts, your plump ass smacking loud and wet against his hipbones. there’s so much slick that it drips down both of your legs to the floor, a puddle forming at your feet. his other hand grips tightly on your meaty thigh, holding your leg up to get his thick fat cock impossibly deeper inside of your tight, gushing little pussy. your sopping shorts and panties dangle uselessly from your ankle.
“you like it like this, huh?” taehyun spits, his words rough and choppy with exertion. “ass up, face down like an animal? nasty whore. breeding bitch.”
“yesyesyes!” you wail in rapture, voice muffled against the cushion. “breed me, breed me! wan’ your cum, tyunnie, please!”
taehyun’s eyes roll back in pleasure and he curses under his breath. “fuck, you want me to cum inside? fill that pussy up? you’re so fucking tight, sucking me in… been needing this cock so bad, huh?”
his bulbous cockhead rams into your cervix deliciously, making you squeal and shake. the gummy walls of your pussy pulsate around him, letting out nasty squelches as he thrusts into you maniacally. you’ve barely begun yet taehyun is already embarrassingly close to his climax, your cunt so warm and wet and just begging for him to shoot his load deep inside.
you manage to turn your head to the side despite the pressure of his hand, and taehyun can see that both your face and the couch is soaking wet. you’re crying and drooling, pink tongue stuck out as you pant and moan. you’ve never reminded him more of a dog.
“you’re gonna make me cum!” you shriek, eyes blown wide as you gaze back at him. “i’m gonna cum, feels so good, don’t stop! cum with me, tyunnie, please please please? fill my pussy up with your babies, and then we can do it again, and again.. and daddy can join when he comes home! does that sound good, tyunnie?”
god, taehyun would like nothing more.
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l1tw1ck · 9 months ago
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dean winchester consumes my mind LAWDDD I beg for anything with that man, surviving off of scraps looking for more top male reader x dean 🤕
- 🛸
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No Longer a Mentor
Sub!Bottom Dean Winchester x Top!Male Reader
☆ Word Count: 1,512 ☆
After spending his young adult years with you, his mentor, more than his father, Dean found himself falling for you. He eventually made a move and forever changed the dynamic of your relationship
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🕯️: well luckily for u, i just finished this draft :3
CW: Age Gap, First Time Bottoming, Blowjob, Fingering, Frottage (Sort Of), Creampie
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Dean’s known you for a couple years, you're a friend of his dad’s and a fellow hunter. You became his mentor in place of his father, who often hunted on his own and left Dean in your care. You liked to stay in your state since the area was basically a supernatural magnet while his father preferred to travel the country so he chose you to finally allow Dean to stay in one place for more than a week. If you were anybody else, Dean would've been annoyed that his dad didn't take him along despite his age and experience. Instead of going to college, Dean spent those years learning to hunt with his father and mostly you. Thanks to all the time you spend with each other, his allegiance to you is almost stronger than his allegiance to his father. He hangs on your every word and treats you like a god. It's thanks to you that he finally accepted his bisexuality. But he doesn't want to tell you that.
He first started feeling differently towards you when you started to become more physical with him. You often hold onto his shoulder with your strong hand or pull him out of the way by his waist and it drives him crazy. He so desperately wants to feel your hands on other parts of his body and vice versa. Your voice makes him weak in the knees and you sound especially attractive when you've found your prey. You're much older than him but he can't get rid of his feelings for you. He tries his best to be content with just having a crush.
After you two had dinner, you decided to drink with him. The two of you laughed and talked over a few cans of beer and deepened your relationship further.
“You ever been in a relationship, [Name]?” Dean asks, slightly tipsy.
“A few. I mostly slept around in my college years and experimented a bit with other hunters but in the end I decided to marry my job instead.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to marry someone I could tell everything to so I tried dating within my circle but none of the hunters seemed to click with me in the ways that really matter.”
“That makes sense…then you probably haven't…” He trails off.
“I probably haven't what?”
“Had sex…lately……”
You laugh. “No, I haven't. Honestly, I think getting laid would really help me. It's been a rough couple weeks.”
“I…” Dean gulps. “I could help with that….if you don't mind…….being with a guy..”
You look at him in surprise. “You're drunk.”
“I’ve only had two cans and a half…You know I don't get drunk that fast.”
You look at him differently, no longer with the eyes of a mentor. “You’ll bottom?”
Dean nods.
You smile in amusement. “I might be a little rough, can you handle that?”
He nods again, more enthusiastically this time.
“Come here.” You motion for him to come over to your side of the table. He stands in front of you. “Kneel.” You order. Dean immediately kneels, his cock steadily growing in size. You unbuckle your belt and pull down your underwear. Dean stares at your cock in awe, body heating up as he watches you jerk it to its true size.
“Fuck. You’re big.” He breathes out.
“Too big?”
“I can handle it.” He says, licking his lips.
“Attaboy.” You run your hands through his hair. Dean blushes. “Ever done this before?”
“Never..” His eyes are trained on your length.
“Is this your first time with a man?”
“Yeah…”
Your gaze changes. Dean shivers in arousal. “How long have you wanted this?”
“A long time…I’ve been…fingering myself, in case we….” He looks away.
You grin, turned on by the thought of that. “You'll have to show me that some day.”
Dean’s face gets redder.
“Now, let me see how you suck cock.”
He's so hard right now. He opens his mouth and slowly swallows your length. He makes a dragged out moan in pleasure as he feels your thickness enter him. Pre cum leaks out of his cock as he imagines how it’ll feel in his ass. He bobs his head up and down enthusiastically, mimicking his past girlfriends by simultaneously swirling his tongue around your shaft.
“Fuck–” You moan. “That's it– good boy.”
Words can't express how happy Dean gets when you praise him.
“You're better at this than I expected, baby.” You smile at his cuteness. He can't hide how pleased he is. “You like sucking dick, don't you? I never thought you’d be a cock slut, Dean.”
He moans. He’ll happily be your cock slut. He pulls away and licks your length in a very sexy way, gaining more confidence thanks to his elevated horniess. “I love your cock, sir.”
“Of course, you’re my cock slut.” You press your hand against his cheek. “Stand up and take your clothes off, I wanna use your other hole.”
Dean’s cock throbs even more. He stands up and quickly removes his clothes, shivering under your hungry and lustful gaze. You pat your lap and he quickly sits on top of you, your shafts pressed against each other.
You grope his ass. “I don’t have any lube..” You trail off, mesmerized by his soft butt.
“I already fingered myself earlier.” He smiles.
“Good boy.” You praise him. “Then spit’ll be enough. Say ‘ah’.” You bring two fingers into Dean’s mouth. He sucks on your fingers in the sluttiest way he can before you take them out and gently push one of your saliva covered fingers inside his soft hole. You give him a moment before adding the second, then you start to finger him.
Dean lets out the prettiest moan you’ve ever heard. “[Name]~” He arches his back and subconsciously thrusts his hips, his cock rubbing against yours. “Your- yours feel so- fuck~” He groans. “So much better!”
You moan as well thanks to the sudden friction. You bring him into a sloppy kiss, the temperature between the two of you steadily rising. Dean pulls away first, more desperate for air, and presses his forehead against your shoulder. “Don't stop– mm- gonna come~” He whimpers. Your fingers find his prostate, an immediate gasp of pleasure leaving Dean’s lips. He throws his head back. “There! Yes!” He moans, grinding against your cock even faster. The combination of his moans, his expression, and his cock against yours all contribute to bringing you to closer your orgasm.
Dean comes first, cum splattering over the two of you. Yours comes second thanks to the amazing look on Dean’s face.
“You're so fucking sexy, Dean, you know that?” You take your fingers out and knead his ass.
“I know.” He gives you a kiss. “I want you inside me.”
You lift Dean up and slowly lower him down on your cock. You both let out noises of pleasure as you penetrate him. He bites down on his lip, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of his ass stretching to accommodate your girth. Once you bottom out, you give him time to get used to it. “Your cunt feels fucking amazing.” You groan. It's hard to hold yourself back but thankfully for you, Dean has no intention of waiting any longer. He places his hands on your shoulders and starts riding you. He quickly loses his momentum as the pleasure begins to overwhelm him. You help him out by grabbing his waist and doing the work for him, allowing Dean to fully enjoy himself.
He knew anal sex would feel good, especially because it's anal sex with you, but he never really had an idea of how good it’d feel until now. Now he's completely blissed out and only able to moan like a slut. It's especially thanks to your quick and rough speed that he's unable to think properly. You couldn't get yourself to go slower even if you tried. His ass just feels way too good.
“Your ass is perfect, Dean–” You groan. “So fucking good-” You hold him and stand up then gently place him on the table after clearing it of the empty cans. You rut into him like a monster, so horny that you feel like you could fuck him all night. You can never get enough of him.
Dean arches his back and shakes as ropes of cum spurt out of his dick. You know you should stop, or at least slow down, but you can't. “‘M sorry baby, fuck–” You moan, hanging your head low as you find your orgasm approaching. “‘M gonna come inside, okay? Gonna fill up your tight fucking cunt with my seed–”
Dean’s conscious enough to understand you. “Ye- yes!” He grins. He's been wanting to know what it feels like to get creampied. “Co- come inside!”
Encouraged by his words, you spill your cum into his warm and welcoming hole. Your thrusts come to a stop and the two of you start to catch your breaths.
“That…was so fucking good.” Dean says, leaning back.
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minminyoonjii · 5 months ago
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Hello :) my birthday is on Friday and I had been looking for Ot8 x Reader birthday fics but people just don't write em and it's so upsetting 😭😭😭
I was wondering if you could do a story where the boys throw the reader a big birthday party but by the end of it, the party is long forgotten and it just turns into one big horny mess- also I wanna say I really like your work and I've sent in a few requests, I wanted to know if I could be 🦝anon if it's not already taken
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❤️Ultimate Masterlist
💜Rules and Guidelines
💙Series Masterlist
🕯Summary: Birthdays are always a special day. Some celebrate with a wholesome heart, they celebrate with their wholesome head. Not the brain kind.
💛AN
Sorry for the belated birthday gift 🦝anon. I finished your request before the series and I thought a good ending piece. I hope you love it💛💛
🌹CW
Birthday Sex|Worship Kink|Edging|Masturbation|Frottage|Grinding|Multiple Orgasms|Voyeurism|Degrading Praise Kink|Wet & Messy|Rough Sex|Dom! OT8|Photoshoot|Fishnet Ripping|Possessive|Panty Sniffer|Pussy Slapping|Squirting|Pussy Gape|Pervy! Reader|Instructions|Creampie|Hand Job|Messy Blow Job|Face Fucking|Cock Gagging|Puppy Kink|Throat Bulge|Cunnilingus|Overstimulation|Oral Fixation|Fingering|Daddy Kink|Omorashi|Ghost Face! Lee Minho|Edging|Breeding Kink|69|Cum Eating|Free Use|Teasing|Cum Dump|Very Sensitive Pussy|Sub Space|Deep Penetration|Vibrator|Double Penetration|Aftercare
💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.
🍄Wordcount: 4.9K
"You look stunning in that, darling," Jisung whistled, eyeing you up and down. You gulped, averting eye contact, "I don't know, it's a bit too short isn't it?" You mumbled, tugging down the hem of your skirt. Jisung smiled, "Isn't that the point, baby? You wore this for a reason didn't you?" he said, gesturing you over. You sulked, "I just wanted to look cute," you said, wrapping your arms around your waist. Jisung chuckled, "And you are. Come here," he said, pulling you onto his lap. "Such an adorable little girl. Think you're all grown up, huh?" Jisung whispered, patting your hair. 
You frowned, "Shut up," you grumbled, hiding your face in your hands. Jisung chuckled, "Aww, why should I hm? Pretty little birthday girl like you should get pampered and worshipped, hm?" he said, kissing the back of your neck. You rolled your eyes, "Oh and how are you going to do that?" you asked, hiding your smile. "With a bit of help of course," Jisung said, nosing below your jaw. A shiver ran down your spine, "Ji," you sighed, pressing your thighs together. 
He laughed, kissing your cheek, "Don't get too excited, baby. We still need to attend your birthday party," Jisung said, lifting you off his lap. You jutted your bottom lip, "This is cruel," you grumbled, readjusting your clothes. Jisung smirked, "If you think this is cruel. Just imagine what the boys would do seeing you in that," he said, gesturing to your fit. You bit back a smile, "I don't know what you mean," you said, walking ahead of Jisung. He laughed, "Says the princess who was afraid that it was too short," Jisung teased, wrapping and holding your waist.
You smirked, kissing his cheek, "Guess all I needed was a little reassurance," you said, ruffling his hair. "Anything for the birthday girl," he whispered, licking your ear lobe. You pushed open the door to the living room, panic running through your veins the moment you stepped through it. Some had blank stares, some had their jaws dropped, and some were happy to celebrate. Felix ran up to you, "Sunbeam, you look stunning," he said, kissing your nose. 
You giggled, feeling the tension break, "Thanks, Lix," you whispered, squishing his face. He chuckled, "Come on, let Jinnie take your birthday shots," Felix said, dragging you along. You sat on the spinning stool, "Hyune," you said, pulling Hyunjin in for a hug. "Princess," he chuckled, tightening the hug. You pulled back, "Direct me however you want," you said, not knowing where to put your hands. Hyunjin smiled, "Of course, put your elbows on the table and rest your head on your hands," he instructed, positioning the camera.
You nodded, following each command. Hyunjin smirked, "That's it. You're doing so well," he praised, taking a few more shots. Some with you standing and some with you carefully holding the cake. "Bunny, be careful not to drop it!" Changbin warned, worried about how you tilted it for the shot. You nodded, instantly setting the cake down after Hyunjin said you could. Jeongin rearranged the cake back to its spot, "Hyung, it's cake-cutting time," he said, calling all the members to the table as he stood behind you.
"Here," Felix said, handing you a lighter. That's when you realised there weren't any candles. "What?" you whispered, confused for a second before your eyes lit up. "You didn't," you gasped, looking up at the fond looks looking back at you. "Go ahead," Felix said, gesturing to you to burn the 'Happy Birthday' wafer paper. You felt your cheeks ache from how hard you were smiling, "Wah," you said, watching the paper burn for a single pet name to be written underneath. 
"Really?" you asked, shaking your head at the cheesiness. Bright and bold it wrote 'Little one' in black icing. You looked up at Chan and he only raised his hands in surrender. You giggled at the gesture, "You guys are ridiculous," you said, trying to hide your flustered cheeks. "Ridiculously in love with you," Changbin said, blowing you a kiss. You waved him off, only to be met with loud whines, "Say it back, bunny," he sulked. "I love you too," you mumbled, seeing Jeongin place an actual candle on the cake.
Changbin laughed, "See she loves me," he boasted, crossing his arms to flex his biceps. Jeongin cringed, lighting the candle, "Hyunjinnie hyung, don't forget the video," he said. Hyunjin gave him a thumbs up, "On it," he said, clicking the record. Soon the room was filled with random harmonies as they sang Happy Birthday, with random high notes and runs making you giggle. "Make a wish, kitten," Minho said, rubbing your back. You tilt your head up, surprised that he got behind you, "Okay," you whispered, making your wish.
You blew the candle, and the boys cheered, "Baksu!" Changbin exclaimed, clapping his hands. Seungmin whined, "We're going to get a noise complaint, hyung," he teased, covering his ears. You laughed, shakily holding the knife in your hand. Minho swiftly took it from you, "Let's not make this birthday party a trip to the ER, hm?" he said, cutting the cake. Your jaw dropped, wanting to retort but you knew it was best. Chan chuckled, hugging you from behind, "Happy birthday, baby girl," he whispered, kissing the top of your head.
"Thank you, Channie," you whispered, leaning back into his hold. Chan cooed, having a good look at your outfit from this angle, "Don't you look absolutely delicious, little one?" he asked, seeing your thighs plush out against the stool. You gulped, straightening your posture, "Is it too much?" you mumbled, tilting your neck back to look up at him. Chan shook his head, staring at your bare neck, "No no, it looks perfect for us to play with," he chuckled, stroking your cheek.
A whine escaped your lips, head clouding from his voice. Chan smirked, easily lifting you off the stool, "Spin the wheel, baby girl. You know what to do," he said, handing you the board. Your names were written on it, this decides the order during birthday parties. You took a deep breath and spun the wheel. The boys eyed the spinning names, wondering who it would land on. Chan chuckled, "Lucky me," he said, seeing his name being picked. You gulped, seeing the pure lust pooling in his eyes.
Chan laid you on the couch, "Let's keep the skirt on but the fishnets have to go," he said, ripping the fabric off your legs. You shivered at the sound, breath picking up from the building arousal. He cooed, stroking your bare thighs, "Pretty little girl," he gruffed, digging his finger into your flesh. You whined, arching your back at the sting, "Chan," you pouted, staring at him between your legs. Chan smirked, pressing his tongue against his bottom lip, "What's wrong? Use your words," he teased, tilting his head back.
You bit back a smile, "Want to be filled, please Daddy," you teased back, knowing very well they would give you anything you wanted for your birthday. Chan's eyes widened for a second before he wrapped his hand around your throat, "Oh yeah? The birthday girl wants her cunt to be fucked loose with cum, huh?" he growled, adding pressure to the sides of your neck. You nodded, legs trembling from the pooling desire, "Please," you pleaded, racking your nails over his hand to show your desperation.
Chan clenched his jaw, unbuckling his belt with his free hand, "Don't whine tomorrow, remember that you begged for this, little one," he groaned, tugging down his pants. A mewl slipped past your mouth, you shifted Chan's thumb towards your lips and he instantly knew what you wanted. Chan panted, cock swelling beneath his boxers, "Fuck, you looked so good when you walked in earlier. Had to hold myself back from stripping you down myself, baby girl," he chuckled, lifting your legs on his hips. 
You moaned, clenching around your drenched panties when an audible squelch could be heard. The room went silent, "Fuck," Jisung whined in disbelief. Chan felt his brain short circuit, "Clench again," he commanded, needing to hear that again. Your lips wobbled in embarrassment but you obeyed nevertheless. You whimpered, clenching your sloppy cunt and there it was again. A. Filthy. Squelch. 
"Chris if you don't hurry up. I swear on my name, I'm going to lose it," Felix growled, palming his clothed bulge. "Not on my watch," Chan grunted, wincing when his throbbing cock slapped against his abdomen. You whined at the sight of his precum-dripping cock, "Need you so fucking bad," you sobbed, sexually frustrated with the teasing. Chan slapped your drenched cunt, instantly sending shocks of pleasure up your body, "Lift your hips," he instructed, tugging your panties off and tossing them to Hyunjin. 
"Just what I needed," Hyunjin slurred, wrapping your panties around his pulsing cock. The warmth of your slick against his aching cock sent his mind hazy. Chan easily slipped two fingers in your needy hole, "So ready and wet for us," he said, adding another finger to his thrusts. You babbled, pleasure coating your body in a familiar comfort. Chan slicked his cock with your arousal and slapped your pretty little hooded clit with his dripping cockhead.
You hiccuped whenever the slit of his cockhead would envelop your clit. Chan leaned down, lining his cock with your fluttering cunt, "Happy fucking birthday, baby girl," he growled, pushing in one quick thrust. You whimpered from the stretch, gripping hard around his cock. Chan's knees buckled, groaning against your ear, "Fuck, fuck!" he gruffed, thrusting his hips as he worked your hole open. You ran your hands up your top, cupping your sensitive chest while Chan pumped his cock in and out of your hole.
"Dirty girl," he purred, picking up his pace to fuck your cunt out relentlessly. Whines echoed within the room, spurring the boys on. You looked up at Chan with half-lidded eyes, drool dripping down the sides of your lips as your tears welled up. "Take my cock, baby girl," he groaned, massaging your inner walls. Your body writhed, orgasm teetering on the edge, "Shi-shit, I'm cum-cumming," you stuttered, arching your back. Chan quickened his thrusts, hitting that sensitive bundle of nerves, "Look at me as you cum, little one," he instructed, gripping your jaw.
You sobbed, staring directly into Chan's firm gaze when the coil in your abdomen snapped, "Hah, ah, fuck!" you gasped, biting down your bottom lip. Chan jerked his hips with a few more thrusts, "Take it, fuck," he sighed, pumping your cunt with his orgasm. You shuddered at the warmth, a dopey smile etched on your lips. Chan eased his cock out of your hole, "Good girl," he chuckled, stroking your messy cheek. You shuffled yourself up and spun the wheel again.
"Seungmin," you panted, catching your breath. He chuckled, cupping your cheek to give you a deep kiss. "Mmhm," you moaned, licking Seungmin's bottom lip. He smirked and nipped your tongue, "Naughty girl," he whispered, pulling away. "Yours," you said, raising your arms for him to slip off your top. Seungmin sighed, eyeing your body, the light sheen of sweat made his mind spin, "On your knees," he instructed, tugging down his boxers.
Drool pooled your mouth at the sight, Seungmin's slender and pretty cock curved against his happy trail made your cunt clench. "Use your hands, pretty," he said, patting your head. You wrapped your hands around his cock, stroking it languidly. He brushed your hair back, "Such a pretty birthday girl," he hummed, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You kissed the tip of his cock, smearing precum all over your lips. Seungmin groaned, "Lick my cock, pretty. Get it drippy," he said, holding your hair in a makeshift ponytail.
You mewled, "Mhmm," you hummed, licking up from the base. "That's it," Seungmin panted, keeping his eyes on you. Drool dripped down your chin as you flicked your tongue against his frenulum. Precum oozed past his slit, "Fuck, pretty," he grunted, tugging your hair. You moaned, swirling your tongue around his cockhead. A sudden slap to the cheek drew a loud whimper from you. "Impatient are we?" he asked, smirking when his plans worked.
"Huh?" you questioned, looking up with a confused gaze. Seungmin cooed, "Did I say you can suck on my cockhead like that?" he asked, loving the way your eyes widened in realisation. Your lips settled in a pout, stirring Seungmin's internal sadism. "Open wide, pup," he instructed, tapping his cock on your lips. You parted them, huffing warm air onto his cockhead. Seungmin smirked, "Don't forget to breathe," he said, sliding his cock down your throat in a single thrust.
You gagged around his cock, tears dripping down your eyes. Seungmin growled, using your hair as leverage to buck his hips. Your whines grow muffled around his cock. The weight of his shaft made your head spin. "Always love how fucking warm your mouth is, puppy," Seungmin gruffed, eyeing the bulge in your throat made by his girth. You moaned, hollowing your cheeks as much as you could. "Yes, yes, fucking hell," he grunted, fucking your tight mouth.
"Mmh," you keened, swallowing around Seungmin's cockhead. You shuddered, staring up at him with the need to milk every last drop of his orgasm. Seungmin felt his knees waver, shocks enveloping his body, "Fuck, fuck, hah!" he growled, holding your face to the base of his cock as he came. You swallowed as much as you could, thrashing slightly when you couldn't breathe. Seungmin noticed and pulled his hips back, easing his cock out of your mouth. 
You huffed out a puff of warm air, cum coating your tongue and lips. Seungmin chuckled, leaning down to kiss your forehead, "You did so good for me, puppy," he hummed, handing you the wheel to spin again. You gulped, leaning your head against Seungmin's thigh as you watched your breath. You weakly spun the wheel again, "Innie-ah, it's your turn," Seungmin said, reaching for a bottle of water for you to drink. 
Jeongin stroked your hair, "Just lie down, angel," he said, helping you lay back. You pouted, "Innie, kiss," you rasped, making grabby hands towards him. He chuckled, placing a peck on your lips, "Precious," he whispered, pinching your cheek. You whined, glaring through your droopy eyes. Jeongin easily lined up his cock with your cunt, "Are you ready, angel?" he asked, teasing your gaping hole. You nodded, hooking your legs over Jeongin's shoulder, "Please, Jeongin," you pleaded.
"As you wish," he said, sinking his cock to the hilt. You arched your back as the air got knocked out of you. Jeongin gripped the back of your thighs and began thrusting at a frantic pace. You cried at the get-go, ears ringing from the shocks buzzing under your skin. Jeongin didn't hold back, fucking Chan's cum back into your cunt. Babbles spilt past your lips, mind barely comprehending anything else except Jeongin's cock hitting all the right places. 
Changbin groaned, just as surprised about Jeongin's desperate bucks, "Holy shit," he whispered, pressing his thumb between Felix's slit. Felix hissed, "Fuck, they look hot," he grunted, clenching his jaw. Jeongin growled, using his hand to press the subtle bulge under your skin. Your eyes rolled back at the pressure, and a silent scream slacked your jaw. "Fuck you're clenching so fucking tight, angel," he grunted, pounding your sensitive hole. 
You cried out, feeling your orgasm snap without a warning. Jeongin whimpered, buckling against your raised legs as his orgasm broke, "Ah, hah, ah," he gasped, kissing down your ankles to distract himself from the orgasmic clench. You lay there panting, eyes barely focusing on anything. Jeongin mewled, easing his cock from your cunt, "I think she killed my cock," he whined, getting his baring. The boys laughed at his declaration. 
Seungmin held the wheel in front of you, "Go ahead and spin it, pretty," he said, feeding you a bite of cake. You licked your lips and spun the wheel. "Jinnie hyung," he read, looking at Hyunjin. "Let's take a quick break," Hyunjin said, wiping down your body. Seungmin nodded, feeding you a few snacks. You wiggled, pleased by the pampering. Chan wiped your matted hair, "Having fun, little one?" he asked, booping your nose. You nodded, "Yeah," you whispered, scrunching your nose.
He chuckled, "Good," he said, kissing your forehead. Hyunjin rubbed your thighs, "All good for more?" he asked, trailing his hand down to your tummy. You nodded, spreading your legs apart. Hyunjin cooed, making himself comfortable between your thighs, "How could they neglect this pretty little clit?" he pouted, blowing softly against it. Your body twitched, heat building under your skin. Hyunjin smirked, darting his tongue to taste. He moaned, latching his plump lips around your pulsing clit.
You bucked your hips, overwhelmed by the sheer eye contact Hyunjin gave, "Hyune," you whined. Hyunjin chuckled, pulling off your clit to lick your urethra. "Fuck!" you cursed, arching your back off the couch. Hyunjin smirked, flicking his tongue against the sensitive hole. You bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back the familiar pressure Hyunjin was trying to trigger. "Don't be afraid, love," he purred, pressing his face against your quivering cunt. 
You whimpered, gripping Hyunjin's hair as you pissed, "Sorry, sorry, sorry," you sniffled, trembling. Hyunjin pulled away the moment he noticed you let go. He groaned, shivering when your warm piss landed on his crotch, "Fuck, love. You're perfect," he purred, palming his drenched boxers. You sniffled, cheeks burning in embarrassment. Hyunjin chuckled, letting his cock slap against your throbbing clit, "Messy little girl. Even on your birthday you're making a mess," he degraded, licking his lips.
"Meanie," you mumbled as your lips wobbled. He cooed, pumping his cock with his wrist, "Only to you, lovely," he growled, cumming onto your skirt. You glared at him, crossing your arms. Hyunjin found you adorable, "Aww, my sweet little love is all sulky," he said, pampering your face with kisses. You couldn't help but giggle at the kisses, "Stop," you whined, squirming. He laughed, "Aww but my little girl is mad at me," Hyunjin said, pampering more kisses. 
You melted under the kisses, "Hyune," you sighed, nosing his cheek. He cooed, "Sweet little girl," he chuckled, kissing your forehead. Seungmin brushed your hair back, "Ready for another?" he asked, holding up the wheel. Chan clicked his tongue, "Before that, take a sip, little one," he said, tilting the bottle against your lips. You gulped down, not realising how parched you were. Seungmin chuckled, "Just four more, pretty," he said, seeing you spin the wheel.
"Minho hyung," Seungmin called out, looking over his shoulder. Felix groaned, hair matted against his forehead, "I don't know how long more I can edge myself," he grunted, gripping his thighs. Jisung smirked, "Should we suck off Channie hyung while we wait?" he prompted, grinning at the idea. Felix chuckled, taking Changbin's hand too, "Anything that can keep me from cumming," he said, ready to cause some mischief. 
Chan's eyes widened when they pushed him back down on the couch, "Okay, okay. You hyenas'. Get on your knees," he chuckled, tugging down his boxers. Felix took the lead, licking a stripe up Chan's flaccid cock. Changbin positioned himself beneath, wrapping his lips around Chan's balls, sucking them into his mouth. "Good such boys," Chan rasped, used to being the group's soother. Jisung got on the couch, sinking his head to place kitten licks between Chan's slit.
You eyed the three of them, arousal spurring again from the sight. Minho chuckled, "Don't they look pretty, kitten," he asked, holding special something in his hand. You nodded, "Very," you said, turning your focus back to him. "Close your eyes, 'cause I got myself a little gift just for you," he purred, stroking your cheek. You did as told, heart pounding in your ears from the anticipation. Minho clenched his jaw, wearing the mask, "Open," he instructed, wrapping his hand around your throat.
"Holy shit," you gasped, eyes widening. Minho smirked, "Do I look spooky, kitty?" he cooed, grabbing your waist. You whimpered in response, head spinning just from the sight of the Ghostface mask adorning Minho's body. He tilted his head, "All you need to do, is scream for me," he said, flipping you on your stomach. You yelped, hands instantly clawing the fabric beneath. Minho chuckled, stripping off his belt to tie your wrists together, "You can say your safeword anytime, kitten," he whispered, patting your head. 
You nodded, raising your hips just how he liked it. Minho hummed, hands groping and squeezing your plush ass, "Fucking mine to ruin," he grunted, pumping his cock with his wrist. You gulped, hearing a loud squelch coming from Minho's leaking cockhead. He huffed beneath the mask, riling himself up just to trigger his desperation. Minho clenched his jaw, "Breathe," he warned, sinking his cock past your fold with a single thrust. A broken scream crawled up your throat, drawing attention from all around the room. 
Minho wasted no time ploughing your cunt, his left hand pressed firm on your lower back, "Work for it, kitten. Clench your fucking cunt," he groaned, rolling his hips precisely. Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to focus on the feeling of your ribbed walls clenching around his girthy cock. Minho hissed, laughing maniacally at your cries, "That's it, kitten. Scream louder," he growled, thrusting his cock at a brutal pace. 
Your body quivered, cunt squeezing hard enough that Minho felt his cock get pushed out. "You ain't escaping me, kitty," he chuckled, gripping the sides of your hips as leverage. "Ah, hah, hah! Fuck!" you screamed, arching your back when Minho forced his cock deeper. The tip of his cock pressed snuggled beside your cervix. Minho huffed, gritting his teeth, "Mhm, hah," he sighed, trailing down his hand to pinch your swollen clit.
"Hhgh," you whimpered, sobbing the moment your orgasm broke. Minho hissed, tightening his hold to make you milk his cum, "Take it, kitten. We need to make it stick," he growled, coating your inner walls with his orgasm. Your thighs trembled from the aftershocks, brain foggy from the high intensity buzzing through. Minho tugged off the mask, hair drenched with sweat dripping down his neck, "Fuck, that thing is hot," he gruffed, tossing it on the floor.
Chan's cock stood hard and throbbing, the three brats decided to edge him each time you screamed. Felix placed a kiss on Chan's saliva-coated cockhead, "Is she still coherent?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. Minho rubbed your back, "Kitten?" he asked, easing his cock from your hole. You whimpered, lifting your head to plop it on a pillow, "I'm good," you slurred, eyes half-lidded. Hyunjin tapped your lips, "Suck," he instructed, letting you swallow down some fruit juice.
Jeongin held the wheel in front of you, "I'm sure the other hyungs' will be gentle," he said, giving them a side glance. You knew for a fact that's a lie but you spun the wheel anyway. "Bin hyung," Jeongin said, tucking your hair behind your ear. Changbin got up from his knees, cock hard and throbbing. "C'mere bunny, lay on my chest," he said, positioning your cunt in front of his face. You nuzzled his cock, breathing in the familiar musk. Changbin cooed, placing kisses on your inner thighs, "Messy little pussy," he teased, laying a firm smack on your ass. 
You whined, grazing your teeth against the gland of his cockhead as retaliation. Changbin groaned, internally finding you adorable, "Okay, okay," he chuckled, licking the outer folds of your cunt. You moaned, mimicking his licks, "Binnie," you whispered,  placing sloppy kisses around his shaft. He spat on your clit causing your hips to buck, "Our stunning bunny," he sighed, flicking his tongue against your abused clit. A shudder ran through your spine, "Fuck, hah," you keened, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock.
Changbin growled and with a flat tongue he lapped your cunt clean. You moaned around his cock, the stretch hurting the edges of your lips the lower your sunk. Changbin closed his eyes, immersing himself in the scent of your pussy smearing on his face. A squeal vibrated his cock when you felt his tongue flex within your canal. Your eyes crossed, pleasure easily building from the around of orgasms they coaxed from your body so far. Changbin furrowed his eyebrows, focusing on bringing you to the edge. 
You hollow your cheeks, sucking him in tight, your throat relaxing around his sensitive cockhead. Changbin growled, thrusting his tongue while his fingers rubbed and pinched your clit on the occasion. Moans grew in octaves as you got close to the edge. Changbin's thighs quivered, feeling the same pleasure. "Cum for Binnie, bun," he keened, trying his hardest not to buck his cock down your throat. Snot and drool coated Changbin's pelvis, you squeezed your eyes tight, ears buzzing from the appending high.
A muffled curse could be heard when you gushed all over Changbin's face, squirting both the remains of your orgasm and Minho's out of your canal. Changbin growled, marking the flesh of your ass when the clear warmth coated his skin, "Yeah, hah, hah," he panted, cumming down your throat. You choked around his shaft, nose burning when cum went up. Minho helped you pull off, "Precious little kitten is too tired to lift herself," he chuckled, making you blow your nose. 
Jisung lifted you, "Lix and I came to an agreement to use you together, princess," he said, nuzzling your cheek. You laid pliant, eyes dazed and glossy. Felix cooed, stroking your cheek, "Don't worry your little brain, sunbeam. We'll take good care of you," he chuckled, pressing down his thumb on your bottom lip. You instinctively slacked your jaw. Felix smirked, spitting directly on your tongue. You gave a dopey smile, swallowing. Jisung groaned, losing his mind at how cute and sinful you look, "I can die tomorrow," he whispered, tossing his head back.
Felix chuckled, wrapping his hands around your waist, "Thanks to all the boyfriends for loosening your tight cunt, sunbeam. Melt into my chest, you don't have to do a thing," he purred, running his fingers through your hair. Jisung aligned Felix's cock with your hole, "It just gets sucked in," he whispered in awe. Felix groaned, the warmth of your cunt hugging his cock after waiting till the end almost made him bust, "Sung, if you don't hurry," he grunted, face evident with impatience.
Jisung chuckled, pressing his cock beside Felix's, "I know, princess. I know," he cooed, kissing away your stray tears. You sniffled, body aching from the sheer feeling of being stuffed. Felix kissed your cheek, his hands trembling from the tightness, "Happy Birthday, sunbeam," he growled, rocking his hips upwards. Jisung pressed his lips with yours, "Hmm, Happy Birthday," he whispered, licking into your mouth as he rutted his cock with deep thorough thrusts.
Felix marked down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of hickeys. Jisung latched his lips around your neglected nipple, he moaned and sucked giving them the attention they deserved. You whined, thrashing your head weakly. Felix gruffed, sinking his teeth into your sweet spot when his hips stuttered. Jisung noticed and quickened his pace, helping to bring all three of you to an orgasm. Felix whimpered, toes curling from the pleasure, "Fuck me," he grunted, painting your cunt with cum. 
Jisung bit down on his bottom lip, "Shit, shit, hah," he moaned, bucking a few more times before adding to the mess. Your lips drew into a pout, orgasm aching to burst. Jeongin stood next to Jisung, "I've got you, Angel," he said, pressing a bullet vibrator to your clit. You rasped out a whine, pussy squeezing around the two cock buried within. Jisung felt his knees buckle from the grip, "Fuck, holy fuck, fuck," he babbled, head spinning.
Felix sobbed, nosing your neck to ground himself from a dry orgasm. Your body shook as the final orgasm got drawn out of you, "Hah, hhgh," you sobbed, forcing their cocks out. Jisung sank to his knees, collecting himself. Felix laid back, limp from moving. Minho lifted you, rubbing your back when you started wailing, "Good girl. You're our good girl, hm?" he cooed, reassuring you. Changbin prepared your bath, leaving a few bath toys in it, "Hi, pretty bunny," he whispered, easing your sore body into the warm water.
You sniffled, reaching out to grab a familiar rubber ducky. Chan chuckled, sitting on the side to wash your hair, "Looks like you remember daddy's ducky, yeah?" he asked, rubbing the shampoo on your hair. You nodded, hugging it close, "Ducky," you whispered under your breath. Chan cooed, "Hold my shoulder, little one," he instructed, coaxing you to piss while he cleaned your puffy cunt. You whined at the sting, thighs sore with blooming hand marks. 
Chan hummed, rinsing off the soap suds, "Daddy's got you," he whispered, drying you up and holding you close. You nuzzled his chest, "Sleep?" you asked, looking up. He nodded, "Yes baby, sleep," he said, rubbing ointment on your bruises. You melt into his touches, eyes heavy with exhaustion. Chan carried you down, "Look, baby," he whispered, showing you the scattered pillows and blankets over a row of mattresses. You smiled, hooking your chin over Chan's shoulder. Coos and chuckles, surrounded your body, "Did you enjoy today, bunny?" Changbin asked, plugging in a hairdryer. You nodded, "Best Birthday Ever," you slurred, drifting off the warmth of the hairdryer.
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jesuistrestriste · 7 months ago
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*NSFW drabble/thirst*
cw (18+): sub!art donaldson, sub!patrick zweig, gn dom!reader, dry humping (basically frottage), begging, orgasm denial/orgasm control, praise, desperation*, patrick is yearning, bossing the boys around + talking them through it <3
i can’t stop thinking about gently easing art donaldson and patrick zweig into submissive headspaces and then, as soon as they’re anticipating (needing) your touch, you tell them that the only way that they’re gonna be allowed to get relief is if they grind against each other <3
and the last thing they want to do is disappoint you, so they do it. and they love it.
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art is whining and letting out pathetic moans as he bucks his hips up against patrick on top of him, wanting so desperately to get him as close as he is.
and patrick is moaning and trembling with pinched-up brows as he rocks down against art’s body and tries to chase a high that’s so close but just out of reach (the fabric of both of their boxers between them is too much to be able to feel everything properly!)
so you just look down at them and smile sweetly.
“Art, you seem like you’re closer than Patrick is.. is this true?” you whisper lowly.
“P-Probably.. oh god.. i’m so—i’m really close,” he squirms, “please, i’m so close…!”
You move your gaze to Patrick.
“you think Art is closer than you are right now?” you say to the brunette.
“yeah,” he pants, “y-yeah, he’s closer.. but i’m nearly there too.. just a little more..”
You shift your gaze back to Art’s and run a hand through his mess of blonde curls.
“Art, why don’t you go ahead and get Patrick there first, ok?” you speak firmly but gently.
“okay, i will,” he moans, “ill get him there first—“
He aggressively starts to smush his pelvis rhythmically up against patrick’s, his body writhing on the bedsheets below as he secretly begs for patrick to be ready to cum soon so he can stop feeling the hot ache that’s spreading all over..
“good boy. don’t cum until Patrick is cumming too.”
art nods.
patrick keens.
you chuckle and move to slide your hand from art’s hair to gently caress the length of patrick's back. art's back arches up from the mattress, and you shift your gaze back and forth between the two young men as patrick furiously meets art’s movements with his own.
“feel how desperate Art is to get you as close as he is? how desperate he is to finish with you?” you whisper.
patrick swallows thickly and nods, his eyes squeezed shut as the pleasurable warmth of his oncoming release starts to prickle in..
“i can feel it.. god, i wanna cum so badly,” he whispers shakily.
“Are you there right now?”
patrick’s eyes open briefly so he can nod at you before they flutter shut again and his hips jolt down over art’s stuttering form.
“i’m so close.. i need more from Art..”
“tell him.”
“Push harder against me… Harder… I need more pressure… I need you more against me…” patrick babbles and breathes out desperately into the neck of his counterpart.
the obedient blonde nods frantically and instantly shifts to push even more of himself up against his best friend’s body.
“good boy for using your words, patrick.. and art, you’re doing so well too.. just a bit longer.. patrick is nearly there,” you say softly to the two in front of you
after a few short moments of this depraved, needy humping, patrick lets out a loud moan and bites down on his bottom lip.
“God, Art, please,” he whispers, so close to the edge now that he can barely keep himself held up on his forearms. his hands are absolutely shaking.
“did you hear Patrick?” you coo with a slight smirk.
art can do nothing but gasp for air as he nods for a moment or two.
“i’m pushing as hard as i can..” he gulps and whines, tears pricking at his eyes as he assumes that patrick is asking for more pressure and ferocity from him.
“i know, baby.. just ask Patrick if he’s ready to cum,” you guide him.
art murmurs out a whimpery “mhm” before he squeezes patrick’s biceps in his hands and looks up into his eyes.
“Hngh.. Are you ready to cum?” he asks quickly and eagerly, his voice tinged with lewd desperation.
“God, yes! Please! Ahh-!” patrick shouts.
the two tremble and sweat, their bare chests rubbing against one another's as they grind their bodies as hard and as fast as they possibly can. art is desperately pawing at patrick's back now, and patrick has both of his hands gripping the small of art's back as they both release a string of loud, needy moans. even though there are thin layers of fabric preventing the two men from feeling each other skin-to-skin, both of them are equally hyperaware of the sensation of their clothed erections sliding and slotting up against each other's. It's heaven. it’s better than heaven. and it's been a long time coming.
you lean back, just enough to make sure that you can get a good view, and then you give in and say the magic words that they’ve both been waiting to hear all night:
“go on, boys.. you can finish.”
art's eyes snap open, while patrick's squeeze shut, and you watch closely as art's baby blues roll all the way to the back of his head. his jaw slacks and his hips arch up and shudder harshly against his friend's.
"I'm cumm--! AH! ANGHH-!" the blonde cries out, cutting his own warning off with the sound of his pleasure as he spills a warm, heavy load into his boxer briefs, "cumming so hard--!"
patrick's abdomen involuntarily curls in over itself as he humps art's bucking body with the shaky anguish of a man in a desert who's just found his first source of water in two days. in other words, he needs this. he needs him.
"Fuck! Fu-uuck! I'm cumming -- AH-! Hah, haah--!" patrick sobs, his fingers digging into arts soft, toned flesh as the heat of his sticky release floods his boxer shorts, "Art!"
The involuntary calling-out of his best friend's name surprises not only both you and the best friend in question, but also patrick. he didn't mean to, but when he felt the warmth of art's release seep out and stick to his thighs, he couldn't hold it anymore.
you're completely entranced by the obedience and sheer obscenity of the two trembling bodies in front of you, so you're unsure if they've been cumming for two minutes or two hours, but it doesn't really matter. they're gorgeously good listeners, and even better submissives. you'd definitely play with them again, as long as they were up for it. and you knew they would be.
you watch as patrick collapses on top of art in a flushed, limp heap, holding him close as both of their bodies tremble and jerk softly every so often with the aftershocks of their orgasms.
they're both pleasantly surprised when they each feel one of your hands carding your fingers through their heads of hair. their eyes are closed, and they can hardly breathe as they pant, but they are aware of this act of kindness from you. they'll take anything you give them. both of them practically start to purr.
"Breathe, boys, breathe.." you whisper lowly, stroking a soft hand over each head of messy locks.
they do as they're told, trying their best to take deep, slow breaths in and out as the fuzziness in their brains starts to dissipate as the seconds go by.
"Felt good?"
art nods slowly but insistently, while patrick mumbles out a slurred confirmation.
"it felt amazing."
"God, it was really.. that was really good..." art sucks his bottom lip in between his teeth, his arms still limply draped over patrick's shoulders.
you nod, removing your touch from them to press a kiss to the nape of patrick's neck and then a kiss to art's forehead.
"I'm gonna take care of you guys now, ok?"
they nod and grunt softly, but make no attempt to sit up or pry themselves off of each other. this was going to be a long night.
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notes; heyyy hehe. just wanted to write up a quick little drabble while i'm working on the two longer fics, and i NEEDED to get sub!art + sub!patrick out of my head. they were rotting in there. ps. srry this probs isn’t my best work, i started writing it at like 4 am last night lmao.
also i love writing orgasm denial and then making the reader just be like
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dividers from: @benkeibear
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raz-writes-the-thing · 1 year ago
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Riled Up (Tenth Doctor)
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Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open and encouraged (im begging)
Summary: The Doctor grows tired of you trying to work him up.
CW: smut, frottage, closet sex (lmao), the Doctor is jealous, biting, tame dirty talk (imo), thigh riding, gender neutral reader
Doctor Who tag list: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)
___ ___ ___ ___ ___
“Can I ask,” the Doctor says, pulling you down a hallway and into a tight closet. “What- are you doing?” 
He sounds angry. The expression on his face is hard. Eyes wide, mouth pursed into a thin line. You’re almost sure you can see a vein pulsing in his forehead. In his defence, you had been flirting with the ambassador for Pilch. In your defence, however, you’d not been flirting for reasons other than diplomatic strategy. But the Doctor clearly did not like it either way. 
“I’m not doing anything,” you replied indignantly, knowing exactly what you were doing. It had been somewhat of a game for you the last little while. How far can you push him before he snaps? You knew he wanted you, and he knew that you wanted him. You weren’t entirely sure what it was that was holding him back, but you were determined to break that barrier down brick by brick. It just so happened that the one time you weren’t actively trying to turn him on and get him to shag you in the bushes was the one time it apparently seemed to work.
“Bollocks,” he growled, pushing you up against the closet wall. The Doctor crowded into your space, nosing at your jaw and forcing you to raise your chin in submission. You sucked in a breath, hands reaching for his hips as he forced your knees apart and slotted his own between them. “You’re teasing me. You’ve been taunting me for weeks. Is this what you want?” 
The Doctor bit at your jaw, the sharpness of his teeth making you whimper. His hands squeezed at your hips and he rubbed his knee against you. 
“O-oh,” you whimpered before biting your lip to keep the sounds in. 
The Doctor tutted, pulling you into a kiss to make you release your lip as he rubbed your hips over his leg, rolling you against him so that the friction jolted electric pleasure up your spine.
“Want- want to hear you,” he said heavily, eyes dark with lust. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t answer my question, love.” 
Your hips begin to move of their own accord, working with the push and pull of his warm hands to bring you closer to the edge. Oh, this was not how you were expecting today to go. Not that you were complaining, of course. 
“I- It wasn’t my intention,” you panted, wrapping your arms around him tighter and moaning into his ear. He shivered as the sounds reverberated through his system. “But I can’t say I haven’t been trying to wind y-ngh-you up lately.” You nipped his earlobe to punctuate the point. 
The Doctor rubs his leg up against you harshly, delighting in the moans that fall from your pretty mouth.  
“Mm, see- I think you’re a liar,” he chuckles, gripping particularly tight at your hip. “You want this. You want me to fuck you, don’t you? The Doctor, huh? Bit of an age gap, but I’ll let it slide.” 
One of his hands releases your hip to palm at himself in his trousers. He groans, eyes fluttering shut. 
“Oh-oh- yes, maybe I should do this more often, hm? Maybe,” he trails off, licking a long stripe up the column of your throat. “Maybe I should split you open on my cock? Watch you tire yourself out. I’d like that. Would you like that? Oh, look at that blush. You would, wouldn’t you? You want to split yourself open on the Doctor’s cock.” 
He lets out a breathy laugh as you grind against him harder, getting so close now. 
“That’s it,” he whispers, bouncing his leg up to give you the extra stimulation. “Cum for me- God, please- cum for me.” 
It hits you all at once, the pleasure rippling from your core and through your body. You can feel your muscles spasming as you continue to rut against him, your arms grow tired and heavy and the Doctor laughs as he has to hold you up while your legs twitch with pleasure. 
“That’s it, love- just like that- oh, so good for me, aren’t you? Shh, that’s it. You’re alright, love.” 
The Doctor caresses your hair, holding you up and in his embrace. You’re panting into his shoulder, nerves alight and scorched with pleasure. 
“I don’t think the Ambassador is going to be happy that you took his newest toy,” you panted with a giggle. The Doctor grins that oh-so-charming smile of his. 
“I don’t think I care. Do you?” 
Your exhausted grin splits wider.
“Not really,” you reply. 
“Good.”
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agentmarcuspike · 6 months ago
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dave york x babysitter!f!reader
summary: the kids you babysit have a hot dad. you want him. but he's married... cws: unfaithfulness (dave is married to carol), power imbalance (employer and employee), fainting, thigh grinding, fingering, reader wears a skirt, dad!dave and his kids, nicknames (baby, honey), reader sits in dave's lap, mention of blood, frottage kinda, one (1) shoulder bite word count: 2.7k divider by @thecutestgrotto thank you and shoutout to my cheerleaders on this, liv @5oh5 and han @swiftispunk <3 and my love @joelsversion for helping with the header <3
"Without touching his skin, How can I be guilty as sin?"
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You hate being alone with Dave York.
There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s a perfectly pleasant, well-mannered man. His daughters, Molly and Alice, are angels when you look after them (mostly), and nothing Dave has ever said or done has made you uncomfortable. Your interactions are innocent and professional. And that’s exactly the problem. 
There’s nothing wrong with him.
Because when you’re left alone together, in the evenings when his kids are asleep and he offers to drive you home, or in the mornings on the days he doesn’t work  from home and he pours you a cup of coffee in the kitchen while you make the girls breakfast… you can’t stop your mind from wandering.
You’re not entirely sure what Mr. York does for work, but you know he must look good doing it. Prancing around the house in his fitted dress pants that hug his front and back just right. His loose dress shirt hiding the body you suspect is strong and strapping, based on the sounds coming from the garage when he tells you he’ll be working out. And those are just the parts you don’t get to see.
His hands, however, are always on full display. When they curl around that mug he hands you. His palm brushing the small of your back as he opens the door for you when you leave. Fingers tapping, sometimes only one on the steering wheel, when he drives you home. When he’s typing away at the computer in his home office, or brushing the hair out of his girls’ faces before kissing their heads goodnight on the nights that he makes it home in time. Oh, those fingers… and that ring.
The ring he wears as a promise to Carol, his wife, that he’ll always be faithful to her. You should know how much a promise like that means. Someone once promised you the same. To always be there, to never stray. But stray they did. And the pain of that is something you don’t wish on anyone.
So yes, you hate being alone with Dave York. Because he’s so close. You spend more hours in his house than your own, basically raising his kids. And he’s right there… but he’s not for you.
It has been a very long day, and yet the clock on the kitchen stove shows only 11:27. The girls have run through the garden sprinklers all morning, worn out and down for a nap already, a combination of heat and exhaustion making you wish you could do the same. The heat wave has lasted for days now, only alleviated by a few minutes of clouds during the worst hours. 
Your bare thighs cling to the chair as you get up to clean up your lunch. It’s quick work, so you do the rest of the dishes too, even though it’s not your job. Warm soapy water prunes your fingers quickly, the only parts of your body not already damp with sweat. The house is rarely this quiet during the day, only the distant sounds of traffic from the main road blocks away filling the room, joining the splashing of water and clangs from dishes as you put them back into their cabinets. Some mornings you can hear Dave talking in his office, the sound carrying through the house. You can never make out what it is he’s talking about, only the low rumble of his voice sometimes plaited with other voices through computer speakers. He’s quiet today. 
This heat is unbearable, you think, as you wipe your forehead with wet hands. Leaning on the counter, you take a deep breath. For a second your eyesight falters, and lightheadedness washes over you. Have you even had a glass of water today? You can feel your legs start to wobble, vision turning static, and you’ve just started swaying when–
“Hey, hey!” 
A strong hand grabs your arm as you topple over, and you lean into Dave’s solid chest, letting him support your weight as you focus on your breathing. 
“There you go, honey,” he soothes. “Deep breaths.”
His shirt smells crisp and clean, the scent interrupted by whiffs of soap and cologne from his skin underneath it, as you inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
“You okay?” His big hand draws circles on your back, still holding you up with the other.
“Just hot…” you manage, lifting your head up to see a concerned Dave look down at you with furrowed brows. 
“Come lie down in my office for a bit, the AC is better in there.”
He supports you on your unsteady legs with an arm firmly around your waist, guiding you to his work room at the other end of the house. You’ve never really been in there, only stuck your head through the door to let him know you’re leaving at the end of the day.
The room is huge, especially for a home office. Floor to ceiling windows cover the far wall, his desk in the middle of the room, facing the door. Bookcases line the other walls, filled with mostly folders and what looks like heavy encyclopedias. In front of one of them is, of all things, a chaise lounge. What is he, a shrink? You’ve never seen him have anyone else in there, but for all you know he might as well be. He’s got the calm and steady presence you imagine one would need to be any kind of doctor.
“Here,” he says as he guides you over to the chaise, one big hand engulfing yours, the other supporting your neck as you lower yourself down.
“Let me get you some water.” 
As he leaves the office again, you hurriedly smooth your skirt down, suddenly very aware of how much skin you’re showing. If you lift your knees your entire ass would be on display for him when he returns, but you know keeping your feet up will be good for the dizziness. You settle for an in-between, only one leg raised, and the other straight out, just as Dave returns, bottle in hand. He twists the cap open before he hands it to you.
“Thanks,” you breathe as you accept it, gulping down half the contents in one go. You hand the bottle back to him and he chugs the rest. Your eyes are fixed on his plush lips around the bottle opening that was just between your own. You wonder what they would feel like on your warm skin.
As he drinks, a stray droplet escapes from the side of his mouth, trickling down to his chin. It runs down the length of his throat, Adam’s apple bouncing when he swallows, and then the drop disappears underneath his shirt collar. Your mouth waters, yet you feel even thirstier. You’d like to rip his shirt off and lick the droplet off his chest, as if only that could quench your thirst. And you can’t help but feel… No, you can help it. You should. It’s completely inappropriate. He’s your employer, your boss, and he’s… so Goddamn good looking. Shit.
He crumples the empty plastic before throwing it away in the bin next to his desk. Slumping down in his office chair he turns his attention to the computer screen.
Typing away at his keyboard, you watch him. Doctor York? Professor York? You try to imagine him; teaching a class, doing paperwork at an office, running a store, being someone’s strict and authoritarian boss. The latter thought makes your legs clench together involuntarily. 
“What do you do?”
The question escapes you before you can help it, and you cringe slightly at your own sudden bluntness. 
“Sorry?”
“I just realized I don’t know what you do for work.”
He doesn’t look up from the screen when he speaks, but a subtle smile plays on his lips.
“If I told you I’d have to kill you.” You laugh.
“That would suck. Who would look after your kids?”
“I’d be on the run, so not me.”
“Carol, then. All alone. Poor Carol.”
“Yeah. Poor Carol…” he agrees, voice suddenly grave.
A few minutes pass, comfortable yet somehow charged silence surrounding you. When he speaks again, his tone shifts—still dark, but less grave.
"Ever been to Europe?" he asks, breaking the stillness.
The unexpected question leaves you momentarily flustered.
“Uh, yeah, I, uhm… I went backpacking there a million years ago,” you stutter.
His eyes narrow slightly. "Really?"
“Why is that so hard to believe?" you challenge, squinting back at him.
“Just a little surprising, I suppose.” 
He meets your gaze without flinching, a spark of something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes.
“I’m actually planning a trip to Belgium. Come have a look at this.”
He beckons you closer with two fingers, the gesture innocent and yet, paired with your clouded judgment and current state of mind, borderline obscene.
Carefully, you put your two feet down on the floor, taking a moment to test your balance. Once confident you won’t topple over again, you step over to his side of the workspace. You lean over his desk, one hand on the table and one on the armrest of the office chair he’s seated in, squinting at the screen. It’s probably very interesting, pictures and lists of things to do and see abroad, but the only thing you can focus on is the sliver of ass you know is revealed when you bend over in this particular skirt. You’d usually wear something more work appropriate, even just a pair of hot pants underneath. But this weather… This heat…
Dave’s gaze is just as scorching as he awaits your reaction, and you can tell he’s working hard not to let his eyes wander. Just like you do, when from the corner of your eye you spot his hand moving absentmindedly up and down his thigh, resting a little too long at the top, thumb grazing his groin.
“Want me to bring you something back?” he asks, voice low, close to a whisper, as if worried someone could hear him. 
You shift your weight from one leg to the other, giving your feet a little more space between them, making room between your thighs. Suddenly, his fingers graze the insides of your thighs and his hand trails upwards, coming to rest over the wet patch of your underwear, damp from your excitement or from the temperature you’re not sure. An audible sigh escapes you at the contact. He responds with a groan of his own as he starts drawing circles over your clothed clit.
“I’ve heard they have great chocolate,” you stutter in response to his question.
“Yeah? You got a sweet tooth?”
You wish desperately he would touch your skin, and try to angle your hips so he can slip a finger under your panties, but he just follows your movements, touching you through the fabric. You only hum in response.
“God, this isn’t right…” you hear him whisper to himself. You don’t disagree, yet neither of you make a move to stop.
His hands move to rest on your hips, and he slowly turns you to face him. Soft fingers grip you tightly. The insides of his legs brush the bare skin of your own, making you shiver despite the heat. Your eyes flutter shut.
“Look at me,” he says, pleading. So you do. The darkness of his eyes pull you in, and you’re almost taken over by the urge to lean down and kiss him. As you start to bend down, one hand resting on his shoulder, his hands on your hips keep you in place. At a distance.
“Tell me we shouldn’t do this.” His eyes rake over your body, taking you in, short fingernails digging into your skin. “Tell me this is wrong.”
It wouldn’t be a lie. It really is, and you really shouldn’t. So you’re not sure why throw one leg over his and straddle his thigh. A buzz shoots through you as your swollen core meets the tight muscle of his leg. You’re so close to him like this. So close you can feel the warm puffs of his quickened breath fan your skin, with a faint scent of coffee, toothpaste, and something else, indistinct but distinctly Dave.
Details of his complexion you’ve never noticed before become clear. The worry lines between his brows. The sharp curve of his cupid’s bow. The few hairs he’d missed while shaving, probably in a hurry, that morning.
Almost unwillingly your hips start drawing small circles, chasing release. Dave’s hands haven’t moved an inch, still gripping your hips, following your movements. His eyes are fixed at where your legs clasp around his own, soft movements growing erratic as your pleasure pulls you further.
Under his clothes he’s fully hard now, the fabric of his dress pants stretching around his erection. You imagine the weight of him in your hand, how your fingers would barely meet around his shaft when you jerk him off. You shift forward, thrusting, wanting desperately to feel him, but he holds you in place, pulling his own hips away from you.
“Nuh-uh.” One of his hands releases its grip on you and rises to gently cup your face. The tips of his fingers barely brush your skin. “Not like that.”
“What?” you breathe.
“Just…” Dave’s face contorts slightly as he sighs. “Just take what you need. What you want.”
You continue to grind on his thick thigh, drenching his trousers with each movement. Back and forth, clenching around nothing. As your breath quickens, you hunch over more and more, forehead eventually landing on Dave’s shoulder. Your teeth come down on the soft flesh of your cheek, and you chew, molars slicing through the skin until you taste blood. 
“Come on,” he purrs, his voice hoarse and vibrating in your ear. “Come on, baby, give it to me.”
“I’m gonna–
Your mouth falls open in silent moan, and you bite down on his shoulder to keep from making a sound, soaking his already damp cotton shirt in saliva and drops of blood from the inside of your mouth. His grip on your hips is relentless, and he groans through his gritted teeth as you fall over the edge.
“Fucking… come… on.”
And you do.
Your thighs clench around Dave’s, and you can feel him tense up as well, sending new waves of pleasure through your core. The buzzing vibration runs from your middle, through your spine, and sets off another spark at the very top of your skull. Your hairs stand up, goosebumps. The blood pumping in your ears deafens you momentarily. 
With your nose buried in his neck, nuzzled behind his ear, you take a few breaths to restrain yourself. His hands are looser on you now, thumbs drawing small circles on your hip bones. His chest rises and falls underneath you, slowing in time with yours.
And just as you’re about to lift your head from his shoulder, not quite ready to face the reality of what has just happened, what you’ve done, someone else breaks the silence.
“Daddy!”
Molly’s sleepy voice is unmistakable from down the hall. Dave’s hands are off you in a second, and you barely have time to react before he’s on his feet.
“Dave, I’ll take her–”
But he’s already out the door.
Once you’ve flattened your skirt and straightened up in the hallway bathroom, you find them in the kitchen. Molly is blabbering, Alice yawning, while Dave is listening and laughing, arranging their lunch in funny shapes on their plates. Cucumbers for eyes, a slice of bell pepper for a pair of red lips, a piece of mushroom becomes the nose. The children giggle at their Dad’s shenanigans. 
You stand in the doorway, observing. Domestic bliss. They’re not your kids and he’s not your husband, and this moment is not for you. As the kids’ laughter and the clang of kitchenware reverberates through the open kitchen, you catch yourself wondering how Dave will explain the stains you made on his clothes to Carol.
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taglist:
@hellfire-state-of-mind @janaispunk @joelscruff @takochansugoi @paanchusblog
@pastelpinkflowerlife @mountainsandmayhem @inept-the-magnificent @bitccchmood @sullyselena
@akjnoris @teanbean521 @joelalorian @lucifurrr @theetherealbloom
@lightdragonrayne @skbeaumont @itsjoelver @fhatbhabiee @peachesandcreams-world
@clownd1ck @alwayscairo @halfpastgrace @clarysthing @mellymbee
@seasonaldelusion @scenaaario @punkshort @frogturtlejr @kt86
@sweetperfectioncloud @hannahkatharine @fandomoniumflurry @emisreadingstuff @knopes-waffles
@your-teeth-glow-in-the-dark @rsquared31 @r3dheadedwitch @alejaa-a @myhappyplaceofstuff
@yodasgreenthumb @dovedewdrop @saradika @clawdee @harrisonispunk
@lostfleurs @always-andromeda @amanitacowboy
477 notes · View notes
gladiatorcunt · 8 months ago
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summary: (dark lite) heir!jacaerys x afab servant!reader
cw: sweat/jace being a weirdo about it, dubcon, frottage, implied virginity loss, intentional use of minimal valyrian & i used a translator so don’t come for me, implications of jace intending to marry reader with or without their consent/reader thinking this is just sex but 💀, he didn’t say it but he would kill his family to make you queen, power imbalance (sorry y’all i just like it), wrote this at a vibrator’s pace (/j) so there are zero thoughts behind it
wc: 888 (✨🕯️)
block & move on if uncomfortable !!
do not translate, repost, or give ai my work
kinktober masterlist
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“I am not certain about this, Jace…” You mumble, tugging at his sleeve so he’ll stop running towards his chambers. “I have to perform my duties in the kitchen, there is hardly time for this.”
Jacaerys Velaryon disarms you with a charming smile, too genuine and heartfelt to not return.
“No one will notice if I arrive at dinner a tad later than usual, there is no need to worry.”
The door is swiftly opened and shut in the blink of an eye. You find yourself gathered up in the prince’s arms and the swat to your bottom urges you to wrap your legs around his waist.
King’s Landing’s sweltering sun beats down on you from the window. Minuscule beads of sweat have already accumulated at your brow. Jacaerys hunches over you to lap them up as if he were a thirsty mutt, you can only wrinkle your nose in aversion.
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“Perhaps we should allow ourselves time to get to know each other before we do this, my prince.” You attempt to convince him, upholding your mother’s belief that intimacy is to be between married folks only. It does not mean you shudder in repulsion at the thought of Jacaerys making love to you. Only that your shame will always best your lust in battle.
“Yet I feel as if I have already known you for a lifetime, issa rūklon (my flower).” He whispers, brushing a hand against the blossom he had tucked behind your ear. The pronunciation is not as confident as someone like his mother’s.
Innocent walks in the gardens with a prince were only a gateway to depravity, you suppose.
You breath hitches when his lips ghost along your collarbone. You would do well to remember that Jaceaery has the potential to be as much of a dragon as the rest of his strange kin.
Your trembling hands clutch at the prince’s bare shoulders. His clothes tossed aside with little care, all of his attention on you. To push him away or bring him closer… you are wracked with indecision.
“Shh, be calm. You are the safest you have ever been, in my arms and in my bed.” The constant repetition of possessiveness is heightened by the glint of gold in Jacaerys’s irises.
“Lift your hips for me, ābrazyrys (wife).” Your brow furrows at the unfamiliar pet name, but you pay it no mind.
Your flimsy dress glides down your body, the cheap strings tying it together are in tatters.
Jacaerys offers you no respite and instead brings both of your wrists together in one hand, pinning them to the bed over your head.
“I am still a maiden, my prince, I have never even kissed a man before.” You nervously say.
His adoring smile widens, “I know, it is the same reason I decline offers to visit the brothels. Our firsts were meant to be shared with each other.”
The soft glow of candlelight illuminates Jacaerys hovering over you, allowing the sexual tension to build. Your grip on his shoulders slackens and you weave your calloused fingers into his brown hair.
If only you knew how much it reminded Jacaerys of his mother’s wedding to Daemon, the looks they exchanged as they tied their souls together.
“We have all the time in the world.” He reassures you, despite the fact that it was obviously not true. “I’ll be gentle”.
You gasp as he cups your cheek with his free hand and gently drops his body weight onto you.
He seizes your lips in a bruising kiss that you would have previously thought him incapable of. The roughness of his tongue entangling with yours drives you to tighten your hold on his hair and pull it. Jacaerys moans at the infliction of pain and rubs his naked flesh against you. The friction of the slow movements are suddenly frustrating, you feel the oddest desire for him to move faster.
You whine in unison with him when you separate from the kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting your lips. He licks it away with a flick of his tongue as he eyes bore into yours.
“Does that feel good, ābrazyrys (wife)? Your cunt is becoming wetter by the second.” He laughs, not cruelly, and continues grinding against your body.
“Yes…. my prince…. it feels …. so, mmm- amazing.” You struggle to reply, he was not even inside you and yet here you were bearing a striking resemblance to an animal in heat.
The sweat that your bodies produce makes the rutting sloppy, you have to frequently regain your hold on Jacaerys. His cock glides over your cunt and you throw your head back on the pillows. Something wet and sticky is smearing all over your belly every time he ruts against you.
This goes on until your body tenses up, your eyes widen and it is as if your gut clenches. Foolishly, you tug at his hair again but he just mouths ‘Yes!’ with his eyes screwed shut tightly as he keeps grinding. Your cunt pulses and a mix of white and clear fluid erupts from it and drips down to greet Jacaerys’s balls. His pace stutters then he glances down at the sight.
“Gods…. you served me a great deal. It is surely delicious, but I do hope that you are ready for me to return the favor.”
611 notes · View notes
starrierknight · 1 year ago
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𝟎𝟎𝟔. 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞
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“It is always pleasant to divulge a secret under dramatic circumstances.” ― Thomas Burnett Swann, Day of the Minotaur
MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER 23' | AO3
wc— 5.2k
pairing— dom!gn!reader x pervy!sub!yuuta
cws/tags— dubcon, frottage, exhibitionism, humiliation, dirty talk, petnames: “pervert” + “perv” + “sicko” + “baby”, allusions to masturbation, yuuta fantasises a lot about unprotected sex, blood mention (poor baby bites his lip so hard it bleeds lmfao)
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"The train from Tokyo Central to Hakodate, Hokkaido is now boarding. Please mind the gap between the train and the platform,” the announcement resonated through the draughty platform.
The automated doors of the sleek train parted, revealing a glimpse into a modern, comfortable journey awaiting those ready to step aboard. Yuuta confidently stepped onto the waiting train, a courteous gesture to allow fellow travellers to board before him. With a clear destination in mind, he turned to you, his eyes focused on the distant end of the train.
"We're sitting in the front car," he mentioned, his voice steady amidst the rising excitement of the journey ahead.
As the train's doors smoothly closed, Yuuta shifted his attention forward, his gaze fixated on the world beyond the glass. The train came to life, its mechanical rumble filling the air, while filtered evening sunlight spilled in through the windows, casting a gentle glow on the carriage's interior. 
Yuuta settled himself in the middle of a spacious bench seat, leaving the window seat invitingly vacant for you. As you joined him, taking your place by the window, the train continued its rhythmic journey. More passengers gradually found their spots around you, their movements accompanied by footsteps, hushed conversations, and the rustling of clothing—a blend of sounds that marked the end of a long day at work.
The train, brimming with commuters in the midst of rush hour, boasted only a scattering of available seats. Despite the packed atmosphere, Yuuta remained composed, his gaze unwavering and fixed on the journey ahead. Occasionally, he stole fleeting glances at you. Amidst the murmur of weary conversations from fellow passengers, a quiet and comfortable silence settled between you and Yuuta. 
As the train came to a halt at the next station, a handful of individuals disembarked, creating a momentary lull in the ambience. The doors slid closed once more, and the train resumed its course, the tranquillity of the moment returning. Yuuta remained in his introspective quietude, occasionally breaking it with those gentle, affectionate glances in your direction, as if looking for a reason to break the silence and speak.
The train eased into a new station, and a pregnant woman, accompanied by her young son, stepped into the bustling carriage. You rose from your seat, gently prompting Yuuta to do the same. Together, you offered your seats to the woman and her son. During this exchange, Yuuta's gaze shifted down to you, silently acknowledging your actions. He didn't need words to convey his appreciation, and he smiled faintly at you.
As the train smoothly departed from the station, Yuuta returned his attention to the passing scenery beyond the window. The surrounding crowd seemed inconsequential as he remained lost in his contemplation. After a few moments of silence, he eventually broke it, turning to you with a gentle inquiry.
"How long is the journey?" he asked, his eyes meeting yours, a subtle curiosity reflecting in his expression. The anticipation of the ride ahead sparkled in his eyes.
Because of the crowded train carriage, Yuuta stood in close proximity behind you, giving you a comforting sense of warmth and presence as you held on to the overhead railing for support. The smooth metal felt cool against your touch, the sensation sending a shiver of familiarity up your arm.
"We’re at the end of the line," you responded, your eyes momentarily shifting from the advertisements that adorned the opposite wall, reflecting a hint of boredom in your tone.
Yuuta made a conscious effort to maintain a respectful distance, ensuring there was no inadvertent contact between you two, despite the closeness dictated by the crowded space. He didn't react overtly to your answer, though his curiosity seemed to grow.
“And how long will that take?” he asked again, a touch more emotion audible in his voice this time.
You let out a sigh, exasperation tinting your response, "Longer than I’d like."
With the ongoing influx of passengers into the carriage, the space shifted and necessitated adjustments in your positioning. The confined space pressed everyone together, including you and Yuuta. Your back found the support of his solid, firm chest—a closeness that the packed environment demanded.
Yuuta's hands remained steadfastly at his sides, a conscious effort to maintain a respectful distance. His face remained fixed forward, the slightest lift of his brows in response to your answer. The close proximity heightened his awareness, the warmth from his body mingling with the confined train atmosphere. A subtle shiver coursed down his spine, a reaction to the unexpected closeness and the incidental skin-to-skin contact. Despite the rising warmth, he fought to maintain his composure.
With the train's gradual departure and the influx of more passengers, the confines of the carriage pressed you even closer. Yuuta grappled with an unexpected rush of emotions, his face feeling the heat, though masked by the cool air inside the train. His usual reserve was tested by this newfound closeness, a rarity in his experience. He struggled to find words, his body's reactions momentarily beyond his control.
As the journey continued, Yuuta turned his head toward you, his gaze gently lowered due to the difference in height. There was a shift in his expression this time, the curiosity from earlier replaced by a quiet introspection.
Yuuta fought to maintain his composure, though his body betrayed him as it started to warm under the circumstances. His face tinged with a delicate shade of red, a reaction he wasn't entirely accustomed to.
The train's journey persisted, the rhythmic movement a backdrop to the silent interplay between you and Yuuta. He continued to steal glances in your direction, a small, genuine smile briefly gracing his features, only to be quickly hidden beneath a veil of bashfulness as his face flushed even more.
As the carriage grew increasingly packed, the situation became more intimate than either of you would have preferred. You could sense his silent discomfort mingling with the annoyance you both shared at the lack of personal space. The circumstances left you exasperated, your ass pressed to his thighs, the close quarters an unavoidable inconvenience, all you could do was sigh, silently resigned to the circumstances.
Yuuta's internal struggle was palpable, evident in the way he discreetly bit his lip, his flushed face betraying the rising sensations within him. Despite his best efforts to maintain composure and not appear improper, his eyes involuntarily widened, his face growing even redder. He desperately sought to concentrate on anything other than the intimate contact between your ass and his groin, choosing to keep his gaze fixed forward, hoping to downplay the significance of the situation.
The relentless closeness between you and Yuuta became increasingly challenging for him to dismiss as a mere inconvenience. The sensations were undeniable, and as the train slowed once more, he remained stoic and silent, unwilling to draw any attention to his internal turmoil. The predicament was much more intriguing than he had anticipated, causing his thoughts to drift into forbidden territory. Despite this internal battle, he showed remarkable restraint… For the time being.
The train carriage gracefully manoeuvred around a sharp corner, prompting the train itself to sway, and your body moved in sync with its motion. Unintentionally, your ass gently brushed against him, causing a subtle but noticeable reaction from Yuuta. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, despite his attempt to divert his attention from the unfolding situation. The warmth of embarrassment rushed to his face, painting it a deep shade of crimson as he felt the pressure of your form against his.
Despite his efforts to suppress these feelings, they danced at the edges of his consciousness, impossible to fully disregard. It was a ritual that repeated each time the train swerved, bringing your bodies in close contact, and each time it did, a subtle yet undeniable pleasure coursed through him. He struggled to contain the burgeoning smile, taming it as best as he could, not wanting to reveal the extent of his newfound delight.
Yuuta's eyes widened, nearly bulging out of their sockets from the unexpected sensation. A surge of joy coursed through him, a pleasure he struggled to suppress, conflicted between proprietary and desire. Though he tried to feign disgust, the allure of the moment was too powerful to ignore. His focus shifted entirely to the thoughts that now consumed his mind, stealing glances in your direction. The blush on his face deepened.
Amidst the swaying of the train and the accidental closeness, Yuuta maintained an uneasy silence. Each time the train veered, the sensation of you brushing against him sent his thoughts racing into a realm he wished to resist. He was keenly aware of the growing tightness in his boxers, and that familiar ache between his thighs. He pressed himself closer to you, taking a deep breath and praying that none of the other passengers could see his ever-hardening erection. He grappled with the impulses that urged him towards regrettable actions, a battle fought within the confines of his conscience.
Your sorcerer's uniform concealed most of your frame, leaving room for his imagination to wander. Though only a few details were visible, they ignited his imagination—he was imagining the ways he could grab your body, hold it, and do what he wanted with it. To kiss it, to fill it, to cum inside—
No. No, no, no. He was your friend! You two were friends! He couldn’t be thinking about you like this in public… Not when he already spent so many long nights thinking about you in private, wishing his hands felt as good as you.
Yuuta found himself teetering on the edge of a captivating fantasy, the reality of your proximity and the sensations it evoked pulling him deeper into a daydream. Amidst the train's rhythmic motion and the ambient sounds of the journey, he discreetly observed the other passengers. It was a symphony of isolation, each individual engrossed in their own world, cocooned by headphones or lost in conversation. The unspoken privacy within the crowded space offered a certain freedom.
Despite the intoxicating allure of his thoughts, Yuuta remained steadfast in his restraint. His arms stayed resolutely at his sides, a testament to his self-control. The battle between his desires and his respect for boundaries waged within, a silent struggle he kept hidden from the oblivious world around him.
With each calculated movement, Yuuta inched his body closer to yours. He couldn't deny the proximity anymore, the warmth of his breath brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His hands, once firmly at his sides, were now daringly moving towards your hips, guided by the unspoken tension in the air.
As his internal debate reached its peak, a moment of decision loomed on the horizon. But would it really be so bad to give in? No one would notice, you knew him well enough and probably wouldn’t mind, right? It wouldn’t be that bad? No, surely not… It couldn’t be that bad. 
It couldn’t be.
The anticipation hung in the air like an electric charge, as Yuuta's every subtle movement brought him closer to the edge of temptation. The warmth of his breath on your ear sent ripples of sensation through you, and the gradual encroachment of his hands toward your hips intensified the intimacy of the moment. The allure of such an encounter in the crowded train was undeniable, the secrecy couldn’t have been more intoxicating if it tried to be. 
As the train continued its journey, Yuuta's internal struggle reached its breaking point. The relentless tug of desire and longing overwhelmed his restraint. With a sudden and decisive movement, his hands reached out and enveloped your midsection, pulling you closer to him. You could feel the rush of heat between you as he pressed your back firmly against his chest, your bodies now completely and intimately entwined. 
As the world around you remained oblivious to the newfound intimacy, a mixture of pleasure and guilt washed over Yuuta. He revelled in the closeness and the desire that had taken hold, but a lingering sense of guilt gnawed at the edges of his conscience. Was it truly acceptable to indulge in such an intimate act in public, even if no one seemed to notice?
In that fleeting moment, as the train turned sharply, Yuuta's self-control faltered and he gave in to the rising tide of desire. His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer. His warm breath grazed your ear, his thoughts a mystery to you.
Sensing the depth of his struggle, you turned to look at him, whispering his name softly in an attempt to ground him. "Yuuta?"
Startled back to the present, his heart raced, and a nervous bead of sweat traced its path down his flushed cheek. The intensity of the moment and your proximity had thrown him into a whirlwind of emotions. Embarrassment coloured his face, but he met your gaze, struggling to find words amidst the haze of desire. 
“Um… Yeah?” he whispered back, his voice tinged with a mix of desire and uncertainty. The internal battle continued, the decision of how to proceed weighing heavily on his mind.
"Are you... Getting off right now?" you whispered.
Yuta felt a rush of excitement shoot through him as you spoke. He didn’t know how to answer your question and he just looked at you as you felt him get harder. You could see tears come up in his eyes, but he tried his best to hide them. 
“Yeah, I might be,” he answered quietly.
You raised a brow and pressed closer, grinding your ass against his hard-on,  but this time it was on purpose. "Does that feel good?" you asked gently.
A suppressed moan escaped his lips, a fleeting revelation of the pleasure that coursed through him. His eyes closed involuntarily, surrendering momentarily to the intensity of the sensations.
Amidst the whirlwind of emotions, your question pierced through the haze, and Yuuta nodded, his response faltering with a mixture of uncertainty and desire. “Y-yeah…”
A faint smile curled on your lips as you whispered, "You're such a pervert," playfully teasing Yuuta. Your words, though whispered, carried a tantalising weight, sinking into his conscience.
The sensation of guilt and shame wrestled with desire and lust within him. He felt conflicted and trapped in the allure of the moment.
“Y-you’re not helping…” he confessed in a hushed tone, his self-control slipping away as the desire surged once more.
A mischievous retort escaped your lips, "You started it.”
His body responded to the increasing intimacy, a natural reaction he struggled to control. Embarrassment painted his features a deeper shade of red, his attempt at a smile tinged with nervousness. He let out a shaky exhale and pressed his crotch deeper against the softnes of your ass, discreetly grinding against it.
As the train continued its rhythmic journey, Yuuta's grip around you tightened, his whole being consumed by the sensations. His trembling arms betrayed the internal struggle he grappled with, torn between the rush of pleasure and the tug of restraint.
You could see the battle in his eyes—the pleasure, the guilt, the desire, all fighting for dominance. The dichotomy of the situation was overwhelming, yet in this chaotic moment, there was a strange connection, a shared unspoken understanding. The voices in Yuuta's head waged their war, one urging caution, the other enticing him to abandon restraint. 
"Such a desperate perv, getting off against me in public," you muttered in his ear.
Your whispered words stoked the flames, the desire within Yuuta burning hotter. The intensity of the situation seemed to reach its peak, his face a crimson hue as you described the forbidden act that heightened the pleasure.
Each movement of the train added to the electric atmosphere, fueling the sensations coursing through both of you. Yuuta's grip tightened, his hips pressing against you with a newfound urgency, the pleasure undeniable. He was losing himself in the moment, the world around him fading into a blur.
His focus narrowed, everything else fading into the background as your voice, like a siren's song, filled his senses. In this moment of passion, the decision loomed even larger—to yield to the intoxication of desire or find the strength to pull away and regain control. Yuuta felt an almost magnetic pull towards you, every fibre of his being craving the closeness, the connection.
He could feel the pre-cum dripping down the length of his aching cock, confined by his boxers and layers of clothing. The warm, wet stickiness coated the cotton of his underwear, but he wished more than anything that it was your skin. Oh, how he wished it was your skin pressed against his, his pre painting your skin with his desire—that desire he wanted to spill deep inside you until it leaked down your thighs and stained the sheets.
Your eyes locked, a magnetic force pulling them together, the unspoken understanding between you palpable. Your voice was a whispered seduction, each word igniting a spark of desire that danced through his body. He was teetering on the precipice, the temptation to let go and embrace the pleasure almost overwhelming. The beads of sweat on his forehead were testament to the internal battle he waged.
"Shhh. You don't wanna get caught, do you?" you whispered, your words both a caution and a tantalising invitation.
The his pace quickened, the movement between your bodies becoming more pronounced. Yuuta was losing himself in the sensation, his reservations eroding with every passing second. Desire and shame battled for supremacy. Why must you be such a sweet temptation?
The charged silence between you two spoke volumes, conveying a torrent of unspoken desires and the growing intensity of the moment. Yuuta's voice was trapped, caught in the whirlwind of sensation that enveloped him. You could see the struggle on his face, his lips bitten in a desperate attempt to hold back his desires. His body was a testament to the conflict within, pressing against you with increasing urgency. The rhythm of his hips quickened, the intensity of his breaths rising.
The combination of your words and the heightened sensations sent shivers down Yuuta's spine, his body responding more urgently to the tantalising closeness. Your voice, laced with desire, urged him closer to the edge.
"How close are you?" you murmured, a question that only fueled the fire that raged within him. His breath hitched, the electric current of desire making it difficult for him to form a coherent response.
As his hips moved faster, the culmination of the moment neared its zenith. Yuuta's grip tightened, his fingers leaving a mark on your skin through your clothes. He shuddered as you asked the question, the pleasure mingling with the guilt that still clung to the edges.
"Shhh, don't be so loud. We can't let anyone know about what a pervert you really are," you teased, your words fanning the flames of both passion and secrecy, pushing him further into the depths of his desires.
"I bet you wanna feel me so badly, huh? Some part of you likes having a dirty little secret," you teased, your words stoking the flames of passion.
“Shhh!” Yuuta's quiet groan escaped his lips, his voice a mix of pleasure and urgency. The need for secrecy and the desire for intimacy waged their battle within him. His face was a tapestry of sensations—pleasure, guilt, and the vulnerability of being so close to losing himself in the forbidden.
The train continued its journey, the rhythm of its movement mirroring the rhythm of desire that pulsed through Yuuta. Every passing moment felt like an eternity as the decision he faced loomed closer, the choice between surrendering to the intoxicating passion or finding a way to regain control.
The friction between your bodies heightened, syncing with the rhythm of the train, adding an electrifying intensity to the charged atmosphere. Yuuta's breaths became shallower, his body pulsating in tune with the alluring dance of desire. Your teasing words were a symphony, playing a tune that enticed him further into the depths of his longing. He let out soft groans and moans, the pleasure and guilt entangled, creating a whirlwind of sensations.
“Seeing you all needy has done something to me," you whispered, your voice dripping with a playful allure, the admission of your own desire adding fuel to the fire between his thighs.
He could feel the mounting tension, the pressure building within him as the tantalising dance pushed him closer to the peak. His eyes remained closed, his breath ragged, and his movements more urgent as he ground against you. The sensations overwhelmed him, blurring the lines between reality and desire.
“Shhh… Stop talking,” he pleaded, his voice a mix of desperation and passion. “You’re turning me on…”
A nervous chuckle escaped you. "I bet you wish you could take me here and now, hm?" you teased, adding a layer of exhilarating temptation.
Yuuta's struggle was palpable, his face aflame with embarrassment and desire warring within him. He fought to maintain some semblance of control, attempting to suppress the overwhelming urge that coursed through his body.
“P-please, stop,” he implored, his voice a trembling plea, the battle between his desires and propriety evident.
"You are a sicko, Yuta. It's disgusting... I like it," you whispered, your words a potent cocktail of truth and desire, sending a shiver down his spine.
His body reacted, heat and desire coursing through him. He could feel you pressing against him, the tantalising friction driving him to the edge. He let out a soft whine, the last vestiges of his restraint slipping away. The struggle was all-consuming, the point of no return approaching rapidly. 
You snickered. "I bet you'd feel so good inside me, filling me up all the way. You'd look so pretty doing it, too. My dirty little secret.”
He could image it now—the way he would fill everything inch of you, stretching you out as you rode him, your body slicked with sweat. He would paw at your hips and thighs, begging to cum inside and fuck it into you, and you would just deny him, telling him to hold for just that little bit longer. He would moan, his cock would twitch inside you and you would smile down at him wickedly as you used him for your own pleasure.
“Please… Please…” he managed to whisper, the desperation evident in his voice, teetering on the edge of something he had never fully embraced before.
You, too, could sense the culmination of this shared desire, and to protect this secret intimacy. A cough, a subtle cover for his near-moan, drew curious glances from nearby passengers. You offered a sweet smile, a diversion that succeeded in redirecting their attention away from the unfolding scene. They remained indifferent, preoccupied by their own weariness from a long day.
Yuuta's face burned with a mix of embarrassment and desire, the glances from onlookers only adding to the intoxicating rush he felt. He smiled nervously.
His voice, a mere breath, escaped in a desperate plea, “Hngh…! Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck… Please.”
"What are you begging for, perv?" you teased, a challenge that stirred the yearning within him.
To cum inside you. To inside you again and again and again… To feel the way you would tighten around him as you reached your own orgasm, to see your head thrown back with a lust-drunk grin tugging at your lips as he filled you and made you feel good.
The tension in the air was suffocating, the mutual desire palpable as the train hurtled towards its destination. Yuuta's body was a battleground of conflicting desires, the internal struggle reflected in his trembling form.
“You know what I’m begging for,” he finally managed to respond, his voice a barely audible whimpered, strained with both need and restraint.
"I wanna hear it from you. Tell me," you pressed, your tone adding to the fevered pitch of the moment.
Yuuta's eyes widened for a fleeting moment, the weight of your request settling on his shoulders. He bit down on his lip, the taste of blood a reminder of the control he fought to maintain. Your words invaded his senses, clouding his thoughts and setting his pulse racing.
“Please, let me fill you up…” he whispered quietly.
"Oh? You think I'd let a pervert like you touch me, Yuta?" you muttered.
“Yes,” he whispered as his body shivered once more. Well, he did have a point.
Yuuta's body was a live wire, every nerve on edge as the seconds ticked by. The temptation was palpable, the desire intoxicating, pushing him further towards the edge of control.
He took a deep breath, attempting to steady himself, his heart thundering in his chest. The words hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation, daring him to give voice to his longing. The battle between restraint and surrender waged on, his mind a battlefield of lust and self-control.
"I… I want…" he stammered, the words catching in his throat as he struggled to articulate his desires. The confession hovered on the tip of his tongue, the weight of it almost suffocating.
“Use your words, sicko.”
“Please let me touch you, let me fill you with me. I wanna know what it feels like,” he moaned into your ear. The tremors in his body and the breaths that escaped him betrayed the intensity of the moment. "I wanna cum for you, make you feel good…" he finally whined, the admission hanging in the air.
"How close are you, baby?" you asked. 
The desperation in his voice was palpable, his yearning nearly overwhelming.
“Ah, fuck…!” he moaned, the sound barely contained, his self-control slipping further away. “I’m… So close!" he confessed, the words barely more than a desperate breath.
The stakes were high, the pleasure almost within reach as Yuuta grappled with the overwhelming desire that threatened to consume him. Your laughter, a tantalising melody, danced around him, both a torment and an aphrodisiac.
"Hush, you could get into so much trouble if someone caught you," you whispered, the playfulness in your tone a reminder of the secrecy that heightened the forbidden allure.
His body trembled against you, a symphony of need and longing. “Hngh… Please… Please…” he begged, the words almost swallowed by the rising tide of pleasure. He was at the edge, the precipice of self-restraint crumbling beneath the force of his desire.
“Don’t care.. What they think… Oh, fuck me…” he whimpered, surrendering to the need that pulsed through him. In a breathless, shuddering voice, he finally managed to utter, “I can't… Hold on... Any longer…” 
You held the reins, the architect of this moment, the temptation who had pushed him to this edge. In this fleeting, charged space, Yuuta was yours to command, the decision to surrender to the longing now undeniable. He could feel the heat radiating from you, the urgency of the situation heightening the sensations. Yuuta's mind was a blur, a tempest of lust and longing.
At this point, you could do anything you wanted with him. He was letting you control him, he wanted you this badly. He was close to losing it, he felt like he was ready to burst. 
“Please, please, please…!”
Yuuta was on the edge, teetering on the precipice of ecstasy. Every fibre of his being trembled with anticipation, the rush of desire flooding his senses, blurring the boundaries of reality. His body sought solace in the pressure of your closeness, aching for release. The rhythm of the train seemed to synchronise with the pounding of his heart, a relentless reminder of the pleasure that beckoned.
"Go on, make a mess," you muttered, smirking.
Yuuta surrendered to the intoxicating wave of pleasure, a gasp breaking free as his body yielded to the desire that had been building. He bit down hard on his lip, desperately muffling the sounds of ecstasy that threatened to escape. His arms tightened around you, pulling you close as if seeking solace in the embrace of this final act of surrender. Pleasure surged through him, an electric current of release that left his body trembling and his mind blissfully hazy. Every nerve ending was ablaze with the intensity of the climax, his jaw slack as he groaned into the crook of your neck. 
Cum slicked the inside of his boxers, dripping down the length of his cock and soaking the fabric. Even still, he imagined it was you—you who he was fucking his cum into, you who was taking him so well, you who was using him and seeing just how much he could take.
Yuuta's body convulsed with the aftershocks of pleasure, every muscle tingling with the remnants of the ecstasy he had experienced. It was a sensation unlike any he had felt before, leaving him in a state of both exhaustion and contentment. He gradually regained control over himself, the rush of pleasure subsiding to leave a sense of calm and satisfaction. Slumped against you, he was enveloped in a cocoon of quietude, the world outside reduced to the gentle hum of the train.
His breaths were slow and deliberate, finding a steady rhythm once more. The arms that had held you tightly now provided a comforting embrace, a source of solace after the storm. You felt him nuzzle into your neck, seeking comfort and closeness.
"Nice one, perv," you whispered playfully, a shared understanding and a sprinkle of laughter in the air.
Yuuta remained still for a moment, allowing his breath to return to a normal rhythm. His voice, slightly hoarse, broke the silence: 
“T-that was the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done,” he admitted in a hushed tone. “But it felt… S-so good.” 
His dishevelled appearance hinted at the intensity of the experience. He kept himself slumped against you, finding comfort in this closeness. Despite the embarrassment, the pleasure outweighed it, leaving a desire for more lingering in the air. 
Yuuta clung to the closeness, finding both solace and excitement in the aftermath of their shared experience. He held onto you tightly, you could feel him shake in embarrassment. He knew he just made a fool out of himself but he couldn’t say anything. He didn’t regret doing what he just did, all he felt was pleasure while it was happening and he was grateful to you.
“Let’s do it a-again…” he murmured, his voice a mix of anticipation and hope.
"If you're lucky," you murmured teasingly, "Then maybe on the train ride back."
“God, I hope I’m lucky,” he whispered back. 
Yuuta nestled into your shoulder, relishing the lingering sensations of the exhilarating encounter. The world around him seemed to blur as he sought to prolong the euphoria, not yet ready to return to the mundane reality of their daily lives.
You smiled innocently at the other passengers who cast suspicious glances their way, a perfect disguise for the secret shared between you and Yuuta. In this moment, you were a master of subterfuge, a connoisseur of delightful secrets.
He spoke softly, his words a tender plea. “Please, if we’re able to do this again… Let’s go far away from anyone who could see us. I want to do it again… And again… And again.” 
You couldn't help but snort at his eagerness. "Desperate, much?"
“For you? Always,” Yuuta retorted with a playful grin, embracing the honesty in his desire.
“You mean that?”
“Always.”
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a/n: i tried to make this as nasty as i could while keeping it somewhat in the realms of what would be plausible for a public setting lolol. i hope it's okay?? idk. hmm. oh well, i can revisit this another time haha
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this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.
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blkkizzat · 1 year ago
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☠︎︎ THRILLING GHOULS & SMOOTH CRIMINALS ☠︎︎
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Halloween is my fav holiday and Horror is my fav movie genre so how could I not participate in a SPOOKY KINKTOBER!
update 9/15/24: im going to finish this list this year! just revamped the masterlist.
All inspired by my favorite horror villains!
song inspo: Thriller & Smooth Criminal cw: Blood play might be heavy in a few of these. Dubcon or Noncon in most of these but the reader will enjoy/consent by the end. Death but only of minor/NPC no name characters(ie, your fuckass bf, bitchy chem professor, next door neighbor, mailman, etc) and manipulation. schedule: gojo > geto > sukuna > nanami tag: will tag works #☾﹒✖☠𝘬𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳
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❝Girl, I can thrill you more than any Ghoul would ever dare try!❞
FreddyKruger!Sukuna
Kink Tags: Teratophilia, Size Difference, Virgin, Chasity Synopsis: Teens in town have been dying in their sleep from horrible dreams. Hard up virgin Y/N won't take sleeping pills to stop dreaming because she only gets relief in her wet dreams. What will happen when Sukuna (true form) enters them? wc: ?
Sadako!Geto
Kink Tags: Voyerism, Squirting, Overstimulation Synopsis: Camgirl!Reader hasn't been able to make herself squirt yet and is teased by her chat. She buys a new toy and downloads a random porn an anon user sent her "guaranteed to make you squirt" but is it just a normal porn? Or is there something more sinister on it? wc: ?
Werewolf!Toji
[Part 1 ღ Part 2] Kink Tags: Breeding, Dacryphilia, Aphrodisiac  Synopsis: Catching him in a lie, you suspect your boyfriend Toji is cheating on you. Where does he keep disappearing to once a month that keeps him away for often days at a time. You're fed up. You've made up your mind this time to follow him but are you ready for what you discover? wc: 10.4k
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❝You've been fucked struck by a Smooth Criminal!❞
Ghostface!Choso
[Part 1 ღ Part 2] Kink Tags: Clothed Male/Naked Female, Thigh Riding, Knife Play Synopsis: The university campus is being terrorized by a copycat Ghostface killer. As a popular sorority girl with a dumb jock bf, you are a prime choice to be his next victim especially given how he can't stop thinking about you. But you're no ordinary Sorority Girl bimbo, now are you? wc: 15.4k
Hannibal!Nanami
Kink Tags: Olfactophilia, Body Worship, Menophilia Synopsis: You're immensely grateful for your kind, empathetic and open-minded (not to mention very handsome) psychiatrist Nanami who has gotten you through some very rough patches in your life. However when you show up at his home office for unannounced session and discover him preparing dinner, are you whats next on the menu? wc: ?
InvisibleMan!Gojo
Kink Tags: Mirror Sex, Frottage, Stalker Synopsis: Fed up with his antics and him ignoring you, you breakup with your tech genius boyfriend Gojo. It's been a month and you've started to move on with your life but odd occurrences have been happening around you and you have the feeling you are being watched 24/7. You need a vacay and your friend Shoko offers up her lake cabin. Will you be safe there? Or will whoever is watching you have you right where they want you? wc: ?
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BONUS: Free for all section of general Halloween themes if I finish all the rest or need to do a quick drabble to cure writer's block.
*OUT NOW* mlist: That's Not My JJK Man! - teaser
Incubus!Geto - coming soon
The Hills Have Eyes Choso P1 *new*
Why you can’t watch scary movies with JJK men - Drabble, 2k words
Trick or Treat Anthology or Halloween Fluff with JJK Men - Fic 10k
JJK Men Slutty Halloween Costumes - Ask thirst
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©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.
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l1tw1ck · 7 months ago
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The Finest Jewel (AO3 Link Only)
Bottom!Omega!FTM Aventurine x Top!Alpha!AMAB Reader
☆ Word Count: 5,157 ☆
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AFAB Language Used
CW: Non-Con, Oral Sex, Cum Swallowing, Heat, Frottage, Womb Fucking, Mild Blood (From Sex), Gunplay, Marking, Creampie, Squirting, Manipulation, Pregnancy
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Read Here
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solarmorrigan · 1 month ago
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Take the Cake
For the @steddie-spooktober day 26 prompt: Blood Rated: E 🔞 | Words: 868 | CW: blood, explicit sexual content | Tags: established relationship, vampire!Eddie Munson, blood drinking, frottage, hand jobs Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics
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Eddie licks up the length of Steve’s neck, long and slow, relishing in the way he can feel Steve’s pulse pounding beneath his tongue, can feel him shivering in his lap. He applies the barest hint of fang to the tender skin beneath Steve’s ear, and Steve gives his shoulder an ineffectual shove.
“Quit playing with your food,” he admonishes, and Eddie can’t help but snicker.
“I’m not playing,” Eddie says, pressing a kiss to the hinge of Steve’s jaw. “It’s like– have you ever seen a really pretty cake?”
Steve, who has been squirming in his place straddled across Eddie’s thighs, worked up from kisses and teasing touches, eager for the promise of what comes next, goes still. He pulls back and fixes Eddie with a glare that is equal parts bitchiness and bewilderment.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“A really pretty cake,” Eddie says, threading his fingers through Steve’s hair and drawing him back in, laying another kiss over his pulse point. “One with all those frosting roses and the fancy piping. And you look at it and think that it’s too pretty to eat.” He scrapes his teeth down the sensitive line of Steve’s throat, relishing in the shudder it gets him, and murmurs against his skin, “You almost don’t wanna bite into it.”
Steve huffs. “Well I’m not a cake, so can you just– ah!”
From where he’s just bitten down, fangs piercing Steve’s neck, Eddie hums out a little laugh, and then sucks.
The first mouthful is always the best, and Eddie will stand by that. Steve’s blood is rich and warm, intoxicating as it coats Eddie’s tongue and runs down his throat. He’s not sure he’ll ever get enough of it – and it helps that Steve is such a willing donor.
The noises he makes are almost as good as the taste of him: the whines, the breathless little oh’s, the gasps of pleasure; it’s exquisite background music for the meal he offers, and the way he shivers and bucks in Eddie’s lap is just the cherry on top.
After a few good mouthfuls, Eddie becomes aware of the rhythmic way Steve is rocking against him, can suddenly feel the hard line of Steve’s cock, trapped in his jeans, rutting up against Eddie’s belly. Eddie hums again, fisting his hand in Steve’s hair and tugging just to hear him groan. He wiggles his free hand between them and cups Steve’s dick in his palm, giving him something firmer to grind against.
Steve’s breath is coming in quick pants when Eddie finally manages to detach from his neck. Blood trickles down from the twin marks he leaves behind, and he licks it up with the broad flat of his tongue, eager to catch every drop. Steve whines high in his throat, and Eddie grins.
“Feeling good, sweetheart?” he asks, lips brushing against skin still sticky and damp with spit and blood.
Against the firm hold Eddie has on his hair, Steve nods. “So good,” he murmurs, sounding almost drunk with it as he rocks against Eddie’s hand.
He’s probably had enough, Eddie decides; Steve might be his favorite source of sustenance, but he’s also Eddie’s favorite person, and the last thing he wants to do is take too much from him. He licks back up over the bite mark again, not tasting or teasing this time, but purposeful, knowing that whatever freaky vampire shit is going on with his saliva will have the puncture wounds closing up to almost nothing within an hour. The bleeding, to Eddie’s equal disappointment and satisfaction, has already stopped.
“Eddie,” Steve all but whines, working his hips almost frantically into Eddie’s palm, and Eddie shushes him with a nipping kiss to his neck.
“I’ve got you, baby,” he promises.
Working Steve’s jeans open with one hand isn’t easy, and the angle once he gets his hand down Steve’s briefs is awkward, but the noise he makes when Eddie finally wraps a hand around him makes it worth the effort.
He’s wet already, leaking enough precome to make the slide of Eddie’s hand around his cock easy and quick, and it isn’t long at all before the rhythm of Steve’s hips is stuttering, his every desperate sound called into the open air as Eddie pulls his head back with one hand still gripped in his hair. He comes with a wordless cry, nearly a shout, too far gone to worry about how loud he’s gotten, and Eddie has always been of the opinion that the noisier Steve gets, the better.
Eddie works him through it, pumping his hand and thumbing the sensitive spot just beneath the head of Steve’s cock until Steve has gone limp and shivery, his whole body curling in towards Eddie. Eddie lets him go, releasing his hold on Steve’s hair and stroking gently at his scalp while Steve buries his face in his shoulder.
“Don’t go passing out on me, honey,” Eddie says. He moves his hand from Steve’s hair to his thigh, wrapping possessive fingers around him as he rolls his hips up against Steve’s ass, letting him feel the insistent press of his own hard cock. “We’re not done just yet.”
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fairyysoup · 7 months ago
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it will come back
part two
a.k.a. sever the blight (eddie's version)
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pairing(s): werewolf!eddie munson x fem!milkmaid!reader
summary: As May Day approaches, you find yourself running into Eddie, and succumbing to his charms, more and more.
cw: smut, heavy petting, fingering, frottage, denied orgasm, public sex, getting caught, alcohol consumption (both eddie and reader), a bit of humiliation, teasing, tons of flirting, eddie munson's Big Meaty Claws, jealousy (by reader), eddie being a flirtatious shit all around, slight enemies to lovers beat here, some kind of historical fantasy period, fairytale au, descriptions of scars, mentions of abuse, reader is a servant to an abusive master
a/n: Happy May! I wrote this in a complete stupor and woke up and it was almost 8.0k words, so there will be a part three. I also wanted to get this done yesterday, but that's not how the cookie crumbles. Alas.
The lyrics that Eddie sings in this are from a traditional English folk song, commonly called "As I Walked Through the Meadow." There are variations on the lyrics, but this is the version I used here.
MY WORKS ARE ALL 18+ MINORS DNI
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The man from the creek is being thrown out of the tavern in the center of town.
You know because you’ve been watching since he went inside. Except, if anyone were to ask, you’d say you’re simply watching the ripples on the mud puddles on the dirt road in front of the building. They’re fascinating, you’d insist. They say you can see your future in them.
You’d noticed him going in as you were stepping out of the haberdashers. You knew it was him from the wine red of his blouse– it’s a rich color, like you’ve never seen on a garment worn by anyone in town, and certainly not by someone claiming to come from the woods. The last time you saw him, nearly a month ago now, you forgot to ask him where he got something so richly woven and colored, in such seemingly good repair. You contented yourself with a single lie: you didn’t want to know. 
You also figured that you would likely never see him again. That this so-called Eddie Munson was probably better off disappearing back into the woods and staying there. You’d never seen him in town before, and you certainly didn’t expect to see him there any time soon. He doesn’t exactly fit in with the rest of the townsfolk; people who work the land, who own it, who sow it. His rich red wine doesn’t fit into the bland suedes and dull grays of your neighbors. 
No– no, with his wild, curly hair and bright, rosy cheeks, he definitely doesn’t look like anyone who belongs in Havensfield. He belongs in a storybook. He belongs in a fairytale you tell to little children, to send them to sleep with something larger than life in their minds. Just like you haven’t been able to sleep a wink without thinking about him and his troublesome smile and sparkling eyes first. 
It’s as if he has you under some sort of spell, unable to move on but remaining steadfastly in place with your mind only revolving around him. You figured it was probably best to spend the coin he gave you and get it out of your system, so maybe you can get rid of the one physical thing that reminded you of his existence.
But here he is, in the flesh and very alive, and being tossed into the mud puddle you had been gazing into, spraying droplets of dirty water off in every direction. A cacophony of laughter rings out from the open door of the tavern– a barkeep angrily wipes his hands on his apron, snarls something at Eddie, and disappears back into the building, the door slamming shut behind him.
The town has erected a maypole in the square for the May Day celebration in just a few days. The marketplace is normally hectic during the festival. Shopkeepers will set up their stalls, the place will be decorated with garlands of flowers, and for days at a stretch one can hardly get their errands done for the amount of chaos going on in the place. That’s why you did your shopping today, rather than waiting for the festivities to begin.
You didn’t expect this.
You haven’t moved from your spot in front of the haberdasher’s. You don’t know if you should– you look this way and that, wondering if anyone is going to approach him, or if everyone else instinctively gives him a wide berth. The people on the street continue about their business like they haven’t seen him, like he isn’t there. You wonder if it’s some unseen force of nature that keeps them away. Does some magic spell exist to make him undetectable to anyone but you? Or are you just the only one stupid enough to get close?
He just sort of lays there in the mud, staring up at the sky. You assume he’s drunk. Why else would he have been thrown out of the tavern? Drinking them dry, getting unruly, starting fights… Yes, you should go on about your business. 
Your hand fists in your skirt, the color of barleycorn. Such a drab color when compared to his deep red, like the flow of blood from a wound. Just as you had feared, it draws you in like a moth to a flame. You lift your skirts and step carefully across the muddy town square, until your feet toe the edge of the puddle he lays in. 
“Do you… need help?” you ask when you peer down at him. From this angle, his eyelashes fan across his cheekbones in long arches, fluttering like fairy wings. 
“My Lovely Lady of the Creek!” He croons wistfully up at you when you pass into his field of vision. “We must stop meeting this way.” 
“Which way is that?”
“With me on my back in a bunch of water.” He smiles at you treacherously, in that way he does. Like he’s privy to a joke that you’re completely unaware of.
“Well, are you just going to lay there like a dead man in the road? Or would you like help?” Your hands are on your hips, the small basket for your purchases wiggling precariously on your wrist. 
“You really should be more discerning about who you offer to help,” he lectures as he heaves himself up to sit. Muddy water sloshes up towards your shoes, and you scamper back before they can get wet. “Lest I begin to get the wrong impression.” 
“I don’t recall ever offering you help before,” you point out. 
“Right,” Eddie says after a moment, his eyes sweeping along the road. He looks unsure, as if he doesn’t know what to ask for, if he wants anything at all. “You… could help me over to the well?” 
Your eyes follow his to the well in the center of the square. You shrug, and then brandish your hand at him. 
Eddie looks at it thoughtfully for a moment before placing his hand into yours. His hand engulfs yours in warmth, his long fingers stretching up and around your wrist. A flush bursts beneath your skin from where his touch hits, spreading up your arm and into your chest.
You’re going to catch fire, you’re sure of it.
Instead, you just help him to his feet, trying not to slip in the mud, yourself. Eddie staggers, sways back towards the porch of the tavern. You lunge forward to catch him before he can fall over again, and you snatch him around the waist without much thought. His arm plops down onto your shoulder, and your basket bats against his hip, the contents shifting inside.
You’re so close now. He smells like pine and whiskey, and his body is warm. So warm that you’re surprised he isn’t sick in bed. 
“How much did you drink?” you ask him, your voice choked as you heave him towards the well. You don’t want to think about his body pressed against yours, his arm hot around your shoulders. He’s looking down at you with an impassioned gaze that you don’t want to match. You fear that if you look up into his face, you will. 
“No more than usual,” he murmurs. His hand reaches out and grabs the stone ring of the well once you get him to it. He kneels on the step of it, starting to look a little green in the face. 
“You smell like the tavern floor,” you tell him frankly, raising your hand to push his hair away from his face. 
“Well, I was just laying in a bunch of piss and shit, so.” Eddie raises his head and gazes up at you, wide-eyed, when you press your hand to his forehead. 
“And you’re much too hot,” you assess, watching his eyes flutter at your appraisal. “Don’t you dare get sick in the well. I have to drink out of that.”
“I need water,” he grumbles, and pulls away from your hand. He tries to stand, and fails.
“Stay,” you tell him firmly, planting a hand on his shoulder. Eddie pouts, watching as you place your basket beside him and step up to the well to fetch him the bucket yourself. 
Like a child who’s just been given a present, Eddie’s eyes fall to your basket. “What’s this?”
“My shopping,” you grunt with the effort of cranking the wheel to lift the bucket from the well. 
“Ooh– stockings?” 
You turn to glance at him, and see that he’s lifted the cloth from the basket to peek at the contents inside. He’s pinching your new stockings between his two fingers, pulling them out with a gleeful expression on his face.
You could kill him. “Put those back,” you hiss, letting go of the handle of the wheel. The crank spins backward, and down in the well, the bucket hits the water again with a loud, wet splash.
“Silk stockings, no less,” Eddie continues, ducking away from your swiping hand as he begins running the smooth hosiery over his knuckles. He seems to have gotten his second wind– no longer staggering, nor looking green in the face, he scampers around the well while you chase him. “Now how could a milkmaid afford such finery? It couldn’t be… no, I shant say–” 
“Give it to me now,” you snarl at him, rounding the well after him. You hadn’t wanted him to see them– hadn’t wanted anyone to see them. It’s not something that you could have gotten yourself, on your own pay. The Master or Mistress would assume that you’d stolen the money, and punish you for it. Obviously, any stranger seeing them would be improper.
And Eddie… Well, he knows exactly how you got your hands on them.
“Could it be… a silver coin?” He giggles like an impish little sprite, his feet working faster than his mind. “Given to you by a handsome, charming, mysterious stranger?” 
Eddie turns to look at you, holding the silken fabric up to his cheek to feel its softness. The sight of the gesture, him pressing his cheek against your undergarment, makes you see red. 
“You little demon–” You lunge for him, but he jerks away, barrel rolling across the opening of the well somehow without managing to fall in. He lands on the other side with a noisy plop, laughing hysterically, and you continue rounding the well to get to him. “Your hair is unsightly and you smell like dirt and you’re as vain as you are vexing and I would rather try to climb the maypole than call you charming!” 
“Well, you’re correct on most accounts,” he tells you, still trying to slow his laughter. Eddie lifts the cloth on your basket, still containing a bread roll and a new wooden comb, and begins carefully folding the silk stockings into a neat bundle. He tucks them back into the basket primly, while continuing, “But I would love to see you try to climb a maypole. Mine has been known to be good for such uses–”
“You’re despicable.” You snatch the basket away from him and step away from the well, turning your back to him without a goodbye. 
“Maybe so,” Eddie replies from behind you. “But you’re still curious, aren’t you?”
You stop. You shouldn’t, but you do, and you know it’s a mistake the minute you turn and see him already standing, not swaying in the slightest, and beginning to crank the wheel of the well to fetch his own water. 
With a scowl, you watch his arm work the wheel until the bucket rears up over the lip of the well, and he lifts it onto the edge. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, like he expected you to have walked away, and he smirks. “Ohhhh, she’s curious. You know what they say about curiosity.” 
Your skin prickles as you’re uncomfortably reminded of your last meeting with Eddie. “You’re much too fond of your idioms.”
“They’re idioms for a reason,” he replies frankly. With the water bucket steady on the edge of the well, he pinchest the front of his blouse and begins untucking the tails from his trousers. 
“What are you doing?” you snap, appalled, as he lifts the hem of his blouse to expose his belly.
He pauses, looking at you dubiously. “I have to wash my shirt.”
You bluster, “In front of the whole town?”
“Who’s looking?”
Who, indeed? You finally think to take in your surroundings, and you notice that the town square has cleared since Eddie was thrown out of the tavern. Aside from the occasional passerby, no one is lingering, and certainly no one is watching Eddie as he peels the muddy fabric from his skin. 
“You’re the only person in this town who deigns to speak to me. I thank you for that,” Eddie says, not unkindly. “But you should know that it makes you a rose among thorns. That isn’t necessarily a good thing.”
“How is that not a good thing?” you ask, feeling his eyes rake over you just before he pulls his shirt over his head. You see a flash of pale skin, and avert your eyes so swiftly it nearly makes you dizzy.
“Roses tend to be picked,” he tells you simply, as if it’s obvious. “Careful who you show your colors to.”
Your face heats against your will, while your eyes remain locked on the building across the way and not on him. At least, not until your curiosity wins out, and you steal a glance at him. 
Eddie dunks his dirty blouse in the bucket, splashing water down onto the stone step at the base of the well. The muscles of his arms flex with the work, and his hair spills over pale shoulders, rosy at the collarbones. He has pictures drawn on his skin with black ink– mythical creatures you learned about as a child, which denote power and magic. Surrounding the images on his skin are scars, old enough that they’ve gone pale, but their raised appearance indicates that he’s seen his fair share of danger. Hair trails down his chest and to  the curve of his stomach, then disappears beneath the line of his trousers. Your eyes trace the trail of it, lingering on his waistband as you wonder how far down it goes. 
He must feel your eyes on him, because he glances up at you. You immediately rip your eyes away, but it’s too late. He’s already seen you looking– seen you staring. 
Eddie grins, his eyes lighting up with mischief. “If it pleases you to look, then look.”
“I wasn’t… I wasn’t looking,” you say, with more than a hint of pride, turning your nose up a bit for good measure. 
“Of course,” Eddie muses, a wicked smirk still on his face. “And neither was I.” 
He meets your eye with a heated gaze that makes goosebumps break out across your skin. His eyes are two black coals, burning at you from just a few feet away. They slowly move up and down your body, until he sets his jaw and turns back to the bucket. He lifts the red blouse from the water and wrings it out, casting droplets of water down his forearms.
You watch them travel along his pale skin, your eyes tracing the blue veins and sinewy muscles of his arms. And that’s when you notice it– the cloth tied around his wrist.
It’s pale pink. It has a slight brocade pattern to the weave. It’s one that your Mistress had no use of, and when she decided she didn’t want the cloth for anything, you took and dyed it yourself with rose petals, and turned it into a blanket for your bed.
It’s the same cloth that you tied to the injured leg of the wolf in your dream, all those weeks ago. But it wasn’t a dream, or it couldn’t have been– the end of that very same pink blanket is still frayed from the tear of the fabric.
“Where did you get that?” you ask him sharply, marching forward. He startles, drawing back just a bit, his eyes glancing you up and down in alarm.
“Get what?” he says coolly, though his manner doesn’t reflect his tone. He’s backing away from you, holding up his hands like you mean to attack.
“This.” Far too bold for your own good, you snatch his wrist in your hand. Eddie gazes down his nose at you as you yank his wrist up near your face, twisting until the pink brocade glints in the overcast light of late April. “Where did you get this cloth?” 
“In the woods,” he says simply. 
“This is from my bed,” you hiss at him, your eyes narrowing as your hand tightens on his arm. Beneath his overheated skin, his pulse pounds against your fingers. You feel it like the beating of a thousand drums. “I don’t believe you. Where did you get it?” 
“I told you,” Eddie repeats slowly. “I found it hanging from a tree. Thought it was pretty, so I kept it.” His face betrays no emotion now, almost strategically so. Where alarm once was, there is nothing. No hint of hesitance, or mischief, or cunning. Just a blank slate that you have no way of reading. 
Your eyes flick between his face and his arm, trying to connect the dots. That’s when you notice the mark as well– among the otherwise pale, older scars that riddle his torso and arms is a long, jagged gash on his bicep. It arcs across his skin and appears to have been from a deep wound. It’s raised over and scarred, but still bright in color. New.
You’re wondering if your mind is playing tricks on you. It’s improbable that the scar on his arm is the one you patched on the wolf a month ago. You refuse to believe such things; you don’t believe in wolf-men, in fairytales, in silly superstitions.
You release his arm. You still don’t believe him– not when he so quickly went from being startled, to suddenly showing no emotion at all. You don’t trust him in the slightest. It seems to you like he’s hiding something, but you don’t know what. You don’t believe he’s anything other than a man. You can’t honestly say that you believe he’s evil, or that he means you harm, but you still wouldn’t lay your life down to fend for his honor.
And that cloth. You would bet your life that the fabric wrapped around his wrist came from your bed, dyed by your own hand, tied around the wounded leg of a wolf on the last full moon. But you can’t dispute that what he says is true. So you step back, and you fix him with a steely-eyed gaze that you know would make even the roughest of men shake in their boots.
“Good day, Mr. Munson,” you say, and he looks surprised that you even remembered his name. “I hope that I never see you again.”
“Making a wish like that is unwise,” he replies mildly, turning back to the bucket that he has perched on the rim of the well. “Unless you have a coin to toss in the well for it. Silver, maybe?” 
Your cheeks burn hot, and you turn away from him. He infuriates you so much. You can’t recall a time when a man affected you so badly. 
“Right. Because you spent it,” he observes, taking your silence as a quiet relent. “I’ll sleep well knowing that my coin was spent on a pair of beautiful stockings. Excellent craftsmanship, by the way. The weave is immaculate. Feels like spun gold.”
“Go to Hell,” you mutter, finally turning away from him, for good this time. 
“As long as I know you’ll think of me when you wear them,” he tells you as you walk away, “I’ll die a happy man.”
You pause. For a moment, you think of turning back to him, telling him to shove that exact thought down his stupidly pretty gullet. But you don’t. Thankfully, you have the reserve and the self respect to set your shoulders and leave him there, rinsing his soiled blouse there on the edge of the well.
You still didn’t ask him how he got a blouse so fine. You doubt that he would tell you the truth even if you did. All you know is that he stays with you, haunting you, rolling through your mind the way he rolled across the mouth of the well, until your hand lands on the gate to your Master’s property.
You can’t afford to have him occupying your thoughts. You can’t afford to be so distracted– you don’t even want to think about what may happen if the Master learns that you’re on your way to being smitten with someone. Someone young and beautiful and, from what you can tell, not running a farm with indentured servants on it.
And when exactly did you go from wanting him to disappear into the woods, to being smitten with him?
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On May Eve, you get just enough of your chores done for the Mistress to not find any excuse for you not to attend the festivities. With your hands tight on a woven basket, you set off with a group of young milkmaids from down the lane, bearing torches, to collect flowers from the meadows and woods. 
Bringing in the May is one of your favorite customs, mostly because it’s practiced by the young people of the town. You don’t have to worry about being watched by the town elders. There’s an air of being chosen by someone; the more popular girls in town get flowers laid on their doorsteps in abundance. You’ve never been left flowers, but each year you hold out hope that someone, anyone, will leave them for you. A gesture– you’re wanted. 
There’s music in the air. Groups of young men and women laugh and dance, and the meadows are dotted with the little blooms of fire at the ends of torches as flowers are gathered. You’ve already indulged in a certain amount of floral spring wine and honey cakes, lulling you into a sweetly tipsy, giggly mood. There’s magic in the air– you can taste it in the humidity, the moonshine, the salt of sweat and earth.
“There aren’t enough flowers in the meadow this year,” one of the girls in your group complains, tromping through the high grass. 
“This isn’t the only meadow in Havensfield, Victoria,” says another. 
“I’ve seen more growing by the trees,” you offer, holding out your basket for one girl to toss a few measly primrose blooms in.
The other girls stop. You look around in the low torchlight at the appalled expressions on their faces. 
“You can’t just… go into the woods,” the one named Victoria objects. “There’s… there’s fairies. And wolf-men.” 
“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes while the other girls balk. “You can’t honestly tell me that you believe those old wive’s tales. You know the elders only tell those stories to keep us from going into the woods to fuck.” 
A few snickers rise up with the smoke from the torch. “It’s true, I saw Katherine Plack sneaking through the woods with Scotty Raker two nights ago,” says a short girl beside Victoria, nodding sagely.
“And what were you doing in the woods, Hyacinth?” the girl holding the torch says, slugging Hyacinth on the shoulder. 
The girls dissolve into laughter, while you suck on your lower lip and gaze toward the trees. It can’t be that dangerous, if Eddie claims to come from in there… somewhere. You imagine a cozy little cottage in the woods with a well beside it, tucked away, hidden from town. You imagine him chopping the wood to make it, himself. You imagine his lean frame and strong hands holding an ax, the drawings on his skin highlighted in the filtered sun through the trees as he swings the blade–
“I’m going to go see,” you announce abruptly, your voice nearly cracking. You’re nodding to yourself, looking like an idiot while you fumble to pick the basket up and set it on your hip. “Yep. That’s what I'm going to do. You all can stay here if you want.” 
“But, there’s no light,” Victoria insists, pulling her hair back away from her face with a condescending expression.
“Moon’s almost full, I can see just fine,” you snap back. Honestly, what does it matter to her if you go into the woods? “I’ll be back.”
Hyacinth calls something about “girding your loins” after you, but you’re too far away to really pay it any mind. The grass grows taller by the trees, and you hop over the creek into a wide bed of bright yellow marigolds. They wiggle in the slight spring breeze, lit with just enough moonshine for their color to show even in the dark.
“Beat that, Victoria,” you mumble as you set the basket on the ground. Methodically, you begin picking them, choosing the biggest blooms, the ones with the most immaculate petals. You’ll decorate your small cabin with them, and fashion garlands for the town square with the rest. 
As you wander over to another bed to collect some more blooms, you hear singing, following the tune being played by the pan flute across the meadow. It’s an old folk song that most of the people in town would know, and you hum along mindlessly as you pick the flowers at your knees. 
“As I was a-walking to take the fresh air, The flowers all blooming and gay, I heard a young damsel so sweetly a-singing, Her cheeks like the flowers in May.” 
It’s a young man’s voice, coming from somewhere in the trees, low and rich, and quiet enough that you don’t think it’s meant to be heard by anyone else across the meadow. Tipsy, you smile to yourself, not thinking to look for the source of the voice, but just appreciating the sound as it travels on the breeze.
“Said I, ‘Pretty maiden, and how came you here, In the meadows this morning, so soon?’ The maid she replied, ‘Why, to gather some May, For the trees they are all in full bloom.’”
As your fingers stroke along soft flower petals, humming along under your breath, you glance over your shoulder towards the meadow, where flaming torches dance like woodland spirits in the night. Laughter follows the music and the raucous cheering of the other groups of May-goers, dancing and collecting their own greenery and flowers.
The rich, velvety voice filters through the trees, ever quieter, but even closer than before. You look up just in time to see the source of the voice move just beyond the treeline, and then he appears, leaning against the trunk of a great pine, close enough that you can see the deep wine red of his blouse, and the wicked smirk on his lips.
“I said, ‘Pretty maiden, shall I go with you Through the meadows to gather some May?’ ‘Oh no, sir,’ she said, ‘I would rather refuse, For I fear you would lead me astray.’”
You could swear that Eddie’s eyes glow nearly red at you in the moonlight, his teeth sharper than you’ve ever seen them as he grins at you. The lace at his collar is untied, disheveled, falling open to reveal one of the inked pictures on his skin and his dark chest hair. 
“Climb any maypoles today, princess?” he asks you after a moment of your staring at him, like you’ve seen a ghost.
The question sets your skin aflame. You sit back on your heels, giving him a caustic expression, despite the way your heart flutters at the sight of him. It’s the eve of May, your lurid mind thinks, tracing his outline among the trees. Anything could happen. 
“I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again, Mr. Munson,” you retort, imagining that he won’t be affected by your words in the slightest.
He isn’t. “Ah-ah, you said you hoped that you wouldn’t. But you didn’t toss a coin in the well, therefore, your wish was never going to be granted. Rules of nature, sweetheart.” He wags a finger at you. “And enough with that ‘Mr. Munson’ business. You remember my name, don’t you?” 
“Eddie,” you say quietly, not sure why you feel so shy when you do. Probably because, up until now, you’ve been firm in your false belief that you’d never give him the time of day. It seems it all depends on whether or not you’ve seen him shirtless, first.
“Good girl. I knew you were paying attention.” Eddie smirks at you then, sowing the seeds of your detriment right there. He stands poised, and then bows low as he says, “So, pretty maiden, shall I go with you through the meadows to gather some May?”
You consider quoting the song right back to him, but you figure that it’s probably what he expects you to do. So instead, you sigh and shrug your shoulder at him. “As long as you promise not to crush them in your big meaty hands.” 
Eddie’s mouth drops open in shock, an impressed smile curling his mouth up at the corners. He barks a laugh. “That’s not how the song goes.” 
“Well, the song ends with them kissing and then getting married in the morning,” you point out, with a roll of your eyes. “So, forgive me for not adhering to the lyrics.”
“Also, my hands are not meaty.” He smirks at you ruefully, his face half bathed in moonlight. He leans towards you, “I’ll tell you what is, though–”
“If you’re about to mention your maypole again, I’m leaving,” you snap, glaring at him in the dark. He snickers, but says nothing, instead preferring to start gathering marigolds. “Just how did you manage to find me again, anyways? There are hundreds of people wandering the meadows tonight. How is it that you keep managing to run into me and no one else?”
“Oh, I can sniff you out in a heartbeat, princess. It’s one of my many talents.” The flowers are dwarfed by his hands– his long fingers pinch the stems delicately, offset by the size of the silver rings he wears on them. You admire them, watching them glint in the moonlight, the tendons in his wrist flexing and his skin pulling tight over veins and knuckles. The heavy metal clicks as he works. You’re about to comment on them, when you watch what said fingers are doing with the flowers.
He takes one, and loops the stem around another, creating a loose knot that lets the tails sit alongside each other. He repeats the process slowly, building a chain of bright marigold blooms, while he hums idly and shoots you a heavy look from beneath his lashes. “Ah. So you’re not afraid to look, now. That’s good to know.” 
You tear your eyes away. The tips of your ears burn with embarrassment at having been caught staring, yet again. “Have you any shame?” 
“Not a hair of it.” 
Eddie holds up a finished crown of flowers, grinning at you. He places the circlet of blooms on your head, and as he draws back, tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 
“And I crowned her my Queen of sweet May,” he sings at you, more of a coo than truly carrying a tune. “The most beautiful one in all the land, of course.”
“From princess to queen,” you muse, trying not to show how quickly your heart is melting. “I’m sure you must think that endears you to me.”
“I’d like to think so,” Eddie admits, leaning ever closer to you. You can see the reflection of the moon in his eyes, glinting vaguely red– you can smell honeyed wine on his breath. His voice drops even lower in register, until it’s just barely above a whisper. “I hope so. Tell me I’m wrong, sweetheart.” 
“I think,” you murmur just as quietly, letting your eyes drop indulgently to his parted lips. They’re so plush and inviting, they’re right there. You need only let yourself bend an inch and you could kiss him. You breathe in, “I think…”
Your hand falls softly to the basket of flowers beside you.
“I think your hands are egregiously meaty.”
You lift a handful of marigolds and smash them into his mouth, making him splutter and fall backwards. You cackle, flinging yourself in the opposite direction, scrambling up to run away. You swear you got some of them in his mouth; you can hear him coughing and spitting them at the same time as he laughs.
“I’ll get you for that!” You can hear him leaping up to chase you, and the prospect makes your heart pound in your chest, your blood rushing hot beneath your skin. You’re sure that it will be easy for him to catch you– you’re hoping for it, really.
You duck between the pines and into the trees. “Come sniff me out then, if you must!” 
You hear his laugh from behind you, almost sounding dark and menacing. Your hair stands on end, but your feet carry you through the trees, running even though you feel as though you’ve been struck by lightning. 
His feet pound the earth behind you, his laughter dancing on the breeze and combining with the music from the meadow. Beyond the trees, your contemporaries dance and make merry with the coming of summer. Here, in the woods, you run from some indeterminate end– one that you have an inkling of, like the barest traces of a memory, but you can’t quite make it out yet. 
Eddie’s hands snatch you by the waist, and you yelp. Heat bursts beneath your skin where he touches you through your bodice, whirling you around until your back hits the trunk of a tree. 
Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding, chest heaving. Eddie is so close, and the air around you buzzes with energy and magic, as if the very trees themselves were singing. 
“You little minx,” Eddie muses, his voice rumbling low like thunder. “Just need me to chase you, is that it?” His eyes truly do shine red, you don’t think you’re imagining it– each time they catch the light of the moon, or a torch burning far off in the meadow, you see a glimpse of that subtle iridescent red of a forest creature in the dark glinting back at you. 
“I think you’re a spirit,” you whisper, the words light and airy in your throat as you try to regain your breath. “I think you’re one of the Fey. You can’t be real.”
Eddie has you caged in against the tree– one hand on the trunk beside your head, one on your hip. You don’t want to be anywhere else. “Oh, I’m very real, sweetheart. Shall I show you how much?”
His forefinger traces the line of your cheekbone, down the side of your face, to your jaw. You want it bad. You want him and anything he’ll give you– throw you to the ground, take you as prey, the lot of it. You won’t be married in the morning, but tonight all things are possible. 
You turn your face and drag your lips across his knuckles, half-gone in your desire. You barely even register the look on his face; eyes wide, lips parted in awe, like he’s never seen anything like you before. Like you confound him as much as he confounds you. A match made in heaven. 
Eddie catches your jaw in his fingertips, holding you like you’re made of glass, and he crashes down into you. He tastes of cherry wine, as rich and deep as the color of his blouse, which you fist in your hand to tug him closer. 
“Please,” you whisper against his lips. It falls like a sigh into his mouth, and his hand tightens on your hip momentarily before gathering your skirts. The fabric flutters as he pulls at them, tugging them up just enough to disappear beneath the hem. 
Your breath quickens. His hand makes contact with your thigh and you think, Oh fuck, this is really happening. 
Eddie’s finger’s pause on the breadth of your thigh, just above your knee. His forefinger strokes downward, passing over your garter strip and feeling the weave of the silk before he cracks a self-satisfied smirk at you. 
“Nice stockings. Get them recently?”
Your eyes narrow with false gravity, your nose scrunching. “I’ll kill you.”
His smirk stretches into a grin, and he scoffs a little laugh that flutters across your lips. It feels like a kiss. “Dying between the legs of my beautiful Queen of May sounds like a good way to go, actually.”
His hand drags hotly up your outer thigh, and the touch nearly burns you to your core. Eddie’s thumb presses against the skin just at the juncture of your leg, and you press your lips together to bite back a moan from coming out. Everything between your legs is tense, and pulsing, and turning feverish the longer he just pets at your skin and tugs your leg up to rest against his hip. 
His fingertips dig into the curve of your ass and the moan escapes you; high pitched, needy, embarrassing. You’re hot all over and you feel like you might die if he doesn’t touch you– you have a mind to tell him so, too, when Eddie dips his head and bites at your earlobe. 
He dips his finger between your folds, tracing one forefinger up the seam of your cunt, and you swear you could nearly scream. Flesh that is too hot and too sensitive bursts alive with feeling. His finger is drenched, your legs shake just from one touch. Is this what it always feels like?
“Oh, baby,” he coos as you whimper into his neck. His lips move slowly along your skin. Each move of his finger, just teasing you gently, dragging so slowly over your clit that your back arches and you keen long and high. “That’s it. This is what you needed, isn’t it?” 
You let out a pitiful squeak, nodding your head like you may explode rather than answer. He strokes you firmly and then gently, watching your face, studying your expressions. It’s so much and it’s not enough, not nearly enough to settle the throbbing in your core. 
“Please…” It’s the only thing you can come up with, the word bubbling up out of your throat before you can make it make sense. “Please.”
“‘Please’ what?” Eddie tilts his head. His pale skin nearly glows in the moonlight, the red in his eyes shining for a split second. “Please… here?”
His finger circles your entrance, prodding but never quite dipping in all the way. It’s just enough to make you see stars, just enough to turn you nearly insane. 
“Oh my God,” you cry out, fingers digging into his shoulders and gripping at his neck. 
Eddie hums, letting you feel the gentle touch for a few more seconds before it’s gone. You could cry. There are tears in your eyes– you could sob, throw a tantrum. You don’t think it would make him change his mind either way.
“My hands are too big, though, aren’t they?” Eddie shakes his head, mirroring your pout in a condescending manner that makes you want to smack him. Then he cracks a smirk, and you know he’s just being mean. “Mhm. Big and meaty. Too much for a sweet little thing like you. I wouldn’t want to break–”
You snatch his wrist through your skirts and bring his hand back between your legs. No preamble, no begging– this time he hisses, and you sigh with relief as you grind down onto not just his fingers, but his entire hand. 
“You’re not disappearing on me this time, Munson,” you nearly growl at him. Your tongue lavishes his skin, his long neck providing just the right amount of area for you to indulge in. 
“I would have stayed,” he gasps out when your teeth find a particularly tender spot under his jaw. “I’d have stayed if I knew you wanted me to.”
“I want you to,” you say, and you wonder if you’ll regret it in the morning. But the morning seems so far away right now, and his hand feels so good between your legs, and you don’t quite understand how you could regret anything that makes him look at you like that.
“Don’t– You can’t talk to me like that,” he whispers, and his eyes shine like rubies in the night as he gazes at you in awe. “You should know better than that.”
You do know better. But still, you tell him, “Stay,” and it’s like a dam has been broken. You know that you’ll never get rid of him now, and you don’t really want to. You want him to make a home in your chest, right against your heart. You want him to always touch you like this. You want him to always look at you with that same reverent gaze, like he’s just looked upon divinity.
Eddie crowds between your legs and his hand leaves you, but his thigh remains in its place. His leg presses tight to your core, the rough fabric of his trousers not nearly as warm as the touch of his hand, but just as erotic. You rock forward mindlessly against his thigh as he takes your face in his hands– one wet with your arousal– and kisses you breathless. His lips move over yours softly, and then passionately, until you take all that passion and feed it back into him twice over.
You lose track of time. The stroke of his tongue against yours, your hands in his hair, his firm thigh between your legs, all brings you to the edge of oblivion. You squirm against him and he chuckles against your lips. He knows what you want. He’ll give it to you, you know it, you know that he will–
And then a twig snaps. Someone calls your name just through the trees, and then, fucking Victoria breaks through the bushes just in time to see you jump and squeal, having to clutch at Eddie’s shoulders to keep from falling over when he spins around to see who intruded on your precious moment.
“OH! I’m so sorry– I thought–” Victoria fiddles with a long lock of her hair, twisting it idly before tossing it over her shoulder. You’re sure you look disheveled, with Eddie’s crown of marigolds slowly unweaving itself in your hair. It’s obvious to her what you’d been doing– Her eyes rake up and down Eddie’s frame, standing halfway in front of you like a shield, his chest heaving, a dark spot on his trousers where his thigh had been pressed between your legs. “Well, you said you were going to be back, and we thought you’d gone missing…”
“I was in the middle of doing something,” you tell her bluntly.
“Understatement,” Eddie mutters under his breath, and you knock your elbow against his back.
You ignore him. “I thought you didn’t want to go into the woods?”
“Well, that was before we thought you… disappeared.” Victoria looks from you to Eddie. “Who’s this?”
“Something.” Eddie grins at her, sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight breaking through the trees. “Sorry I stole her away from you. We were actually just having a fascinating conversation about when it’s appropriate to disappear– you could join us if you want?” 
Eddie glances over his shoulder at you, and smirks a bit at the expression of complete and utter envy on your face. You don’t want anyone to join. You don’t want to share him. You want him all to yourself. You want to grow on him like ivy until no one can see him but you. You want to hold him close to your chest and keep him there for eternity, and then some. 
“Oh, no, I–” Victoria blushes. She half-turns, like she wants to run away from the conversation entirely. “I just wanted to let you know that we’ve collected all the flowers we need, so… we’re going back to town. You can stay… if you want.”
You want to throw a fit.
She ducks back into the bushes quickly. Eddie is quiet for a moment, listening to her footsteps through the grass, before he turns to you. 
“You were jealous,” he teases, leaning towards you with that stupid self-aggrandizing grin.
Your face grows hot with anger and embarrassment. “You did that on purpose.” You shove him bodily, so that he stumbles a bit to the side, and he snickers. “I can’t believe you. She could have said yes to that.”
“Nah, she was too bashful. I knew she wasn’t gonna take me up on the offer. She wandered into something she wasn’t ready for.” Eddie leans up against a tree, smiling at you with a more resigned expression now. He looks you over, like he wants to burn the image of your kiss-bitten lips and rumpled dress into his memory. After a moment, he meets your eye again. “You should go. Get some sleep before the festival tomorrow.”
“But I–” You flounder. You just made so much progress, and now you’re just back where you began. You shouldn’t be proud about it now– not after he nearly took you to pieces with a single touch. Not when you can still feel the sharp edge of an orgasm pressing at your core, wanting to force its way out but with no way to get there now, and every look at him makes it press that much harder. “You know what– I don’t even know what I expected.” 
You march off towards the tree line. You have to find your fucking flower basket. You have to go and make garlands and slap together some bouquets for the festival tomorrow. You have to pretend like you aren’t dying inside from the disappointment.
“Princess.” You turn to him. He isn’t smiling anymore, he just looks disappointed as well. He glances up at the moon, and then back to you. “It’s a full moon tomorrow. Best not to go near the woods, okay?”
“Don’t tell me you believe in those stupid wolf-man stories, too,” you snap, beyond aggravated.
“Just promise me,” Eddie bites back, his eyes shining dangerously in the moonlight. “Promise me that you’ll stay in town. Don’t come near the woods. Drink, be merry, have a good time.”
“And you?” You feel a bit humiliated and desperate, vying for his time and attention– but you want it. You want it, you want him, more than anything, but you have a feeling you won’t be getting what you want, yet again. “What about you?” 
“I’ll find you,” he says firmly, and then lowers his eyes. Softly, he amends, “I’ll always come back to you.”
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bzurk · 4 months ago
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what gets dirtier the more it cleans?
series masterlist:
tuesday, week two:
cw: dubcon turned noncon, frottage, noncon photography, overall terrible assholery
The weekend is a blessed reprieve. The morning sun streams through the window, casting a harsh light on the disarray of your thoughts. The world outside continues its indifferent rhythm, while your own has been irreversibly altered. The air is thick with a tension that has taken root in your mind, refusing to let go.
The memory of Simon's and Price’s touches linger, a ghostly presence that sends shivers down your spine. It all plays like a sinister symphony, the notes sharp and discordant, leaving you with a sense of unease that clings to your every move. You try to find solace in your morning routine, but every action feels mechanical, detached from any sense of normalcy.
With trembling hands, you clutch your mug of coffee, the warmth seeping into your palms offering little comfort. The room is filled with tense silence, the kind that settles after a storm, leaving a void where chaos once raged. You take a sip, the bitter liquid grounding you, anchoring you to the present even as your mind drifts back to that office, to the way Price’s eyes bore into you with a predatory intensity.
A cold dread coils in your stomach as you consider the days ahead. You need this job, the money it provides, the stability it promises in a world that seems to thrive on uncertainty. Yet, the thought of returning to that house, of facing Price - or worse, Simon - fills you with a visceral fear that paralyses you.
The world outside your window carries on with its mundane symphony: the distant hum of traffic, the occasional chirp of a bird, the rustling of leaves in a gentle breeze. Each sound is a reminder of life beyond your current turmoil, a life that feels increasingly out of reach.
You glance at your calendar, the dates marked with reminders of bills to pay, obligations to meet. It all seems so trivial now, overshadowed by the looming spectre of what awaits you at the mansion. You know you have to go back, the precarious balance of your finances dictating your choices with a merciless grip.
But the question remains - how can you face Price after what happened? How can you navigate this new, treacherous terrain where the lines between employer and predator blur into a disturbing shade of grey? How can you survive walking right into a wolf’s den?
The truth is, you don’t know. But you do know that you can’t let fear dictate your actions, can’t allow it to suffocate you.
With a deep breath, you set your mug aside and rise from the bed. The room feels suffocating, the walls pressing in with each passing moment. You need air, need to escape the claustrophobic confines of your thoughts. Grabbing your jacket, you step outside into the cool embrace of the morning.
The street is quiet, the usual hustle and bustle of city life muted in the early hour. You walk, the rhythmic cadence of your footsteps a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. As you make your way through the familiar streets, you allow yourself to imagine a life unburdened by the shadows of the past few days, a life beyond instant ramen and scraping by, exchanging favours to pay the bills.
But for now, all you can do is put one foot in front of the other, to navigate this uncertain path with as much grace and strength as you can muster. You can’t change what happened, but you can decide how you’ll face the days ahead, how you’ll protect yourself from the predators that lurk, preying on vulnerability.
You decide to take your mind off things, to indulge in a small act of defiance against the creeping dread that threatens to consume you. The idea flutters through your mind like a tantalizing whisper, a promise of something different, a break from the monotony of fear and uncertainty.
The idea is both daunting and liberating. You remind yourself of the money Price gave you, his silent expectation that you'd fulfil his request. In any other circumstance, you might have found the notion distasteful, but now it feels like a small rebellion.
Retail therapy.
As you wander through the bustling city streets, the noise and vibrancy of life around you serve as a temporary distraction, pulling you away from the darker recesses of your thoughts. But maybe, just maybe, a little indulgence could offer a brief escape. You find yourself drawn to the glass-fronted boutiques, their displays promising luxury and allure. The shop windows are filled with mannequins draped in delicate fabrics, the sheer elegance of lace and silk beckoning you with a promise of transformation, igniting a spark of defiance within you. You’ve spent so long prioritizing everyone else, putting your needs on hold, that the idea of buying something just for yourself feels like an act of rebellion.
The boutique door chimes softly as you enter, the sound mingling with the gentle music playing overhead. The store is a haven of soft lighting and rich colours, a world removed from your reality—a place where you can be someone else, even if only for a fleeting moment.
You weave through the racks, fingers grazing the smooth fabrics, eyes tracing the intricate patterns. There’s a sense of freedom in this act, a choice that is entirely yours to make. The world outside fades away, leaving you enveloped in the quiet intimacy of the store.
A part of you wonders if this was their intention all along - to mould you into a certain image, to see you comply with their whims, bribed and paid off until your dignity and sense of sense is gone. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but you push it aside, focusing instead on the array of colours and fabrics before you. You run your fingers over the lace, feeling its intricate patterns under your fingertips.
Your hand pauses over a deep burgundy set.
The questions float through your mind, kicked up by an errant thought like dust under a boot - did they really need a maid, or was there another reason they hired you?
Was this all part of some twisted game to see how far you'd go, how much you could take?
Why you, specifically? You know that you're attractive, but there were so many other people they could have hired - people who were more qualified, more experienced.
In the back of your mind, you know they don’t need a maid. They’re men of discipline, of order and routine. All of their beds, minus one, are made in the morning with perfect corner tucks and nary a crease in sight.
You turn to the mirror, holding the set against your body. The rich hue of the fabric catches the light, casting flecks of red across your skin like an expensive wine spilled onto a pristine tablecloth. You meet your gaze in the mirror, and for a moment, you glimpse the girl you once were - the girl who dared to dream beyond her means, who believed that she could carve out her own path in this world.
The realization is both freeing and terrifying - you have a choice. You can let them break and shape you, mould you into a picture of compliance, but outside of that mansion, you’ll bounce back. As you look at the price tag of the lingerie set, you can't deny the dangerous allure of it.
They’re using you - but aren’t you doing the same?
You square your shoulders, determination setting into your jaw. You may not be able to control much right now, but you can control this.
Lost in thought, you barely notice the chime of the boutique door, but a familiar voice breaks through your reverie.
“Fancy seeing you here, little miss maid.”
You turn, startled, to find Kyle standing at the entrance of the store. His casual attire - jeans and a simple t-shirt - contrasts sharply with the opulent surroundings. He looks at you with a friendly smile, but there’s something in his eyes that makes you pause.
“Kyle!” you splutter, your heart pounding in your chest as you hastily tuck the lingerie set back into its hanger. “What are you doing here?”
“Just running some errands, thought it was you I saw around,” He takes a step closer, eyes raking over your form, then plucking the maroon set from the rack. “I never pegged you for the silk type.”
The air between you feels charged, crackling with unspoken words and hidden intentions. You know you should walk away, that this is some sort of trap or test, but you find yourself rooted to the spot, unable to tear your gaze away from his. He’s been nothing but sweet to you so far, it’s unfair to assume the worst of him.
You try your best to hold onto your earlier resolve and courage, but fuck, that cheeky smile is making it hard.
“I-I just...” you stammer, at a loss for words, mentally cursing yourself for sounding like a babbling idiot.
Kyle raises an eyebrow and his mouth quirks upwards in a knowing smirk, as if he can read your thoughts. “You know, you'd look gorgeous in this. A shame to let it go.” He doesn’t ask if you want it, instead slinging it over his arm and gesturing towards the racks and mannequins.
“Kyle, I can’t -”
He silences you with a wave of his hand and a wink, “Keep going. Surely didn’t come out just to buy one set?”
Your clothes wrinkle under your clammy palms as you fidget, fists rhythmically clenching and unclenching, and you can feel the blush coating your cheeks, eyes darting from Kyle’s open, smiling face and the lingerie. You’ve never shopped for anything like this before, let alone with a near-stranger for company. Your stomach feels like it’s collapsing in on itself, a stress ball under the hand of a vengeful god.
The tension in the air is palpable as you and Kyle stand in the boutique, his presence a mix of unexpected comfort and unease. You try to regain your composure, to wrestle control of the situation from the disorienting mix of his casual demeanour and the intimate setting.
“Kyle, I really shouldn’t-” You start, but his easy grin and confident stance make it clear he’s not going to let you off the hook so easily.
“Hey, no worries,” Kyle says, his tone light and reassuring. “If it makes you uncomfortable, just let me know. But if you’re here to treat yourself, why not go all out? It’s not every day you get to pamper yourself, right?”
His words, though well-intentioned, feel like a double-edged sword. The idea of indulging in something luxurious seems almost therapeutic, yet it’s hard to ignore the unsettling implications of his presence.
Kyle’s gaze is steady, and his smile, while friendly, seems to hold a hint of something more - an unspoken understanding or perhaps a curiosity about your choice.
You take a deep breath, attempting to steady your racing thoughts. “I guess... maybe you’re right. It’s just-” You pause, searching for the right words. “I don’t think I can afford it right now.”
Kyle’s smile doesn’t falter as you voice your concern. He looks at you with a mix of sympathy and understanding, his expression softening.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, his tone reassuring. Before you can protest further, Kyle gently places the burgundy lingerie set back on the rack, his fingers brushing over the delicate fabric with casual ease. “Besides, a little looking never hurt anyone. There’s no harm in browsing a bit more, if you’re up for it. I really did just want to pop in to hello, though - I do have to run now, unfortunately.”
You nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and awkwardness. Kyle’s gesture is generous, but you’re also acutely aware of the boundaries you’re trying to maintain. The lingering unease you felt earlier doesn’t dissipate completely, but there’s something comforting about Kyle’s presence and his offer to help.
With a final wave and a warm smile, Kyle heads towards the store’s exit. “Well, I’ve got my errands to finish up. It was nice running into you. Hope the rest of your shopping goes well.”
You return his smile with a weak but sincere one, watching as he disappears through the boutique’s doors. As he leaves, the store’s soft lighting and luxurious fabrics seem to close in on you again, but now there’s a small, lingering sense of warmth from Kyle’s unexpected kindness.
You spend a few more moments in the store, skimming through the racks but finding yourself unable to fully engage with the experience.
As you leave the boutique, the cool air of the street feels like a welcome relief, a chance to clear your head. The city’s usual buzz seems distant now, replaced by a contemplative quiet.
You feel realigned, grounded, a train put back on its tracks.
You’ll go to work on Tuesday, get your paycheck, and buy yourself something nice - that pretty dark red set.
You find that you’re dreading the mansion less, with a clear and attainable goal in mind.
“See you next week.”
Tuesday arrives, dragging with it the weight of anticipation and dread. You’ve spent the day counting down the hours, each minute an excruciating reminder of the looming return to the mansion. As the day fades into evening, you find yourself standing before the imposing entrance once more, the same sense of foreboding settling over you like a shroud.
See you next week. See you next week. See you next week.
You take a deep breath, steeling yourself before pushing open the door. You’ve prepared for this. You know what you’re going into, at least. You’re going to stand your ground, get shit done, and leave. You’re going to make your money, pay your bills, and buy yourself a little treat, and after that, set bigger and better ambitions. They pay you well, even without the… bonuses. You’ll buy a new bedframe, hire a plumber for your leaky sink, maybe move into a nicer part of town with a few months of pay. You ignore the little voice in the back of your head that whispers only if you last that long.
The chime of the keypad cements the shift in you, from a scared, wary girl to a determined professional. But when the door finally slides open, revealing the empty garage, an overwhelming sense of relief washes over you. The space is devoid of any vehicles, a blank canvas untouched by the veterans who have come to define your recent existence.
The empty garage greets you like a sanctuary, a haven where the shadows of last Tuesday can't reach. The absence of Simon’s and Price’s cars feels like the lifting of a heavy weight from your shoulders.
You take a tentative step inside, and then another. Your heart rate slows, the pounding in your chest easing into a steady rhythm. The silence isn’t suffocating; instead, it’s liberating. The quiet is a balm, soothing the frayed edges of your nerves.
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, the exhalation carrying away some of the tension that had knotted your insides. The sight of the empty garage is a visual confirmation that you are blissfully alone, that there is no one lurking in the shadows, no predator waiting to pounce.
There’s a sense of elation bubbling up within you, a giddy feeling of triumph. You allow yourself a small, victorious smile, a rare moment of joy that breaks through the constant worry and fear that permeates the house.
For a moment, you linger there, savouring the victory of the empty garage. You take one final look around the empty space, etching the feeling of relief into your memory before steeling yourself for what lies ahead. You've come this far; you can make it through another shift.
With renewed determination, you step fully into the house, the click of your shoes echoing in the emptiness, a light skip in your step. The doors are still closed, their ominous silence hanging in the air like a tangible threat, and make your way down the dimly lit corridor, flipping light switches and opening windows as you go, each step fueling your determination to prove to yourself that this place won’t intimidate you anymore.
Inside the house, you efficiently tackle the chores that await you. Dust bunnies don't stand a chance against your furious feather duster, and cobwebs tremble in the face of your wrath. You clean like you've never cleaned before, and for a brief moment, you feel invincible, as if this grand mansion, this symbol of your servitude, is bowing to your will.
As you scrub away the stains and grime that have accumulated, you allow yourself to daydream about the future. The pretty red lingerie set is within reach, a reward for surviving another week at this twisted job. But your ambitions don't stop there. In your mind's eye, you see yourself buying a small but cozy apartment in a safer neighbourhood, with a view of the city skyline and freshly painted walls that smell of promise and new beginnings. The quiet hum of the vacuum becomes a soothing symphony as you move methodically through the rooms. You relish the freedom to hum to yourself, to let your thoughts wander without the need to look over your shoulder. The echo of your footsteps on the hardwood floors is no longer a reminder of your isolation but a testament to your presence, your moment of control in a house that felt so suffocating.
With renewed vigour, you finish mopping the floors and windexing every inch of the mansion's endless windows. The day is bright and sunny outside, and the warm light streaming through the windows fills you with a buoyant energy. A smile touches your lips as you glance outside, the backyard beckoning with its lush greenery and inviting pool. Today, the weather is on your side, a perfect excuse to tackle the outdoor areas with the same enthusiasm you've brought to the mansion's interior.
With your spirits lifted, you head to the back patio, the sliding glass doors gliding open with a soft whoosh. The fresh air is invigorating, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the manicured hedges that line the property. You take a moment to bask in the sun's embrace, letting it warm your skin and lift your mood further.
The back patio is a hidden gem of the mansion, a tranquil oasis with elegant wicker furniture and potted plants that sway gently in the breeze. The stone tiles beneath your feet are cool to the touch, the slate-grey colour complementing the natural beauty of the surroundings.
Armed with a broom and a bucket of soapy water, you set to work, sweeping away the fallen leaves and debris that have gathered on the tiles. The rhythmic motion is soothing, and you hum a cheerful tune as you move. The sun shines down, casting playful patterns of light and shadow across the patio, making the space feel alive and welcoming.
With the floor cleared, you turn your attention to the furniture, wiping down each piece with care. The wicker glistens under your touch, restored to its former glory. You fluff the cushions, adjusting them just so, and step back to admire your handiwork.
Next, you make your way to the pool area, its sparkling waters a vibrant blue under the clear sky. The sight of the pool, with its gentle ripples and inviting depths, fills you with a sense of ease. It's a far cry from the tense atmosphere inside the mansion - a place where you can breathe and appreciate the beauty around you.
You retrieve the pool skimmer and begin cleaning the water's surface, capturing stray leaves and insects. As you work, the sun glints off the water, creating a dazzling display of light that dances across the tiles. You take a moment to dip your fingers into the water, the coolness refreshing against your skin. It's a simple pleasure, but one that grounds you in the moment, reminding you that even in a place like this, there are moments of peace to be found-
“You must be lil’ miss maid!”
You gasp and shoot up straight, flicking up droplets of water, and the world moves in slow motion. You spin to face the intruder, shoe sliding with the help of a convenient puddle, before your vision tilts and a shill scream scratches your throat.
You don’t even feel the fall, not really; your brain is too busy sending alarm signals to your heart, which is hammering away like a mad thing. The sky blurs with the rushing of leaves and water, and then-
Cool water engulfs you, silencing your scream. It wraps around you like a cold blanket, pulling you into its depth. For a moment, all you see is blue, the sun's glimmer distorted through the water, like a dream turned nightmare.
You kick your legs and break the surface, gasping for air. Your hands reach for the pool's edge, gripping tightly as you blink away the water streaming down your face.
He stands there, a blur of a figure as you wipe your eyes, then clears into the sharp lines of a man you’ve never seen before. Tall and broad, with brown hair that catches the light, distinctly longer on top, and he wears a smirk that drips with casual arrogance. He’s dressed casually, in gym shorts and a tank with a white towel slung over his shoulder, but there's something about his stance, a confidence that suggests he’s no stranger here.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya.” His voice is teasing, an apology that doesn’t seem quite genuine.
You swallow the panic clawing at your throat and force yourself to focus, pulling yourself up and out of the pool. You feel the chill of the air bite into your wet clothes as you find your footing, the patio tiles suddenly feeling too solid beneath you.
“Who-” You clear your throat, the words stumbling out around a mouthful of water as you try to reclaim your composure. “Who are you?”
He laughs, an annoyingly pleasant sound, the kind that makes you feel like you’re the punchline to some private joke. “Name’s Soap,” he says, offering a hand as if you’re supposed to shake it like this is a normal meet-and-greet. “But you can call me whatever you like, bonnie maid.”
You glance at his hand, then back at him, your mind racing. The name rings a bell, a faint echo of the conversations you’ve overheard among the veterans. He must be one of them, the final occupant. You give your hand and your name shakily, the cold seeping into your bones. Your eyes trail a drop of sweat as it runs down his pointed nose.
“I-I didn’t know anyone else was here,” you manage, trying to keep the edge out of your voice as you stand there, dripping and bedraggled.
He shrugs, his hand not retreating despite the way you tug at it. His eyes scan the patio, taking in the sparkling clean furniture and the skimmer you’d dropped by the pool. “Looks like you’ve been busy.”
“Yeah,” you reply, a note of defensiveness creeping in. You wrap your free arm around yourself, both for warmth and comfort. “I just finished-”
“Won’t mind another dip, then?” He grins, all sharp teeth and gleaming blue eyes, releasing your hand on the next tug, and you stagger backwards again.
“Wait-!”
But before you can fully process what's happening, he lunges forward with a playful laugh, arms wide as if embracing the chaos he's about to create. In a flash, you’re airborne again, Soap’s strong arms wrapping around your middle as he tackles you back into the pool.
Water crashes over you, the shock of cold stealing your breath for the second time. For a split second, everything is surreal, suspended in the underwater silence. You kick up, breaking the surface with a gasp, spluttering and disoriented. Your hands find the pool's edge, gripping tightly as you blink away the water streaming down your face.
Soap is laughing, a boisterous, unrestrained sound that grates on your nerves. He surfaces beside you, shaking water from his short hair like a mischievous dog, eyes twinkling with unrepentant mirth.
“What the hell was that for?” you demand, voice rising with a mixture of anger and incredulity. Your heart is pounding, a furious drumbeat against your ribs.
“Oh, come on, bonnie,” he chuckles, paddling easily in the water. “Lighten up a bit. Figured you could use a refresher.” He winks, as if this entire situation is a grand joke, his amusement evident in every word.
You stare at him, your anger warring with the icy chill of the water. “You can’t just—just do that!”
He raises an eyebrow, still grinning. “Can’t I?”
The nerve of this man, this stranger who’s turned your moment of peace into a humiliating spectacle. You bite back a retort, knowing that getting into an argument with him would only escalate things further. Instead, you focus on pulling yourself out of the pool once more, muscles straining with the effort, heavy clothes weighing you down.
Once you’re out of the pool, you wring out your hair and clothes as best you can, the chill seeping into your bones, water pooling at your feet. Your clothes cling to your skin and you shiver, crossing your arms over your chest to preserve some semblance of warmth and dignity. The chill is biting, and you feel the goosebumps prickle across your skin as a breeze sweeps through the patio. Each drop that slides down your back feels like an insult, ruining the pristine environment you’d cleaned.
Soap emerges behind you, water streaming down his bare shoulders, and he runs a hand through his wet hair, flicking droplets everywhere.
"You're soaked," he observes with a cheeky grin, as if this wasn’t already painfully obvious.
You glare at him, your irritation bubbling over. “Really? Thanks for pointing that out,” you retort, teeth chattering as you speak.
“I’ll go fetch some towels, yeah?”
You glance over your shoulder at him, feeling a flash of irritation mixed with gratitude. “You can’t,” you protest, gesturing toward the open patio doors leading into the house. “I just cleaned the floors. You’ll track water everywhere.”
He shrugs, unconcerned, and gives you an easygoing smile that borders on infuriatingly charming. “No worries. I’ll clean it up later.”
You suppress the urge to roll your eyes, clutching your damp clothes tighter around yourself. “That’s not the point,” you grumble. “I-I don’t have a change of clothes, and I can’t leave like this!”
But Soap seems unbothered by your predicament. He steps around you, water streaming down his toned frame, and grabs the white gym towel he’d tossed aside before diving in. With a nonchalance that makes you bristle, he uses it to wipe the water from his hair, then casually tosses it onto a nearby chair.
“Eh, you’ll figure something out,” he says, seemingly unconcerned with your plight. He starts peeling off his wet clothes, leaving them in a soggy heap on the patio.
You avert your eyes quickly, cheeks flaming despite the cool air. “H-Hey! What are you doing?”
“Relax,” he chuckles, hanging the towel around his shoulders. “Can’t walk through the house drippin’ wet, can I?” He grins at you, a playful glint in his eye. “Problem solved.”
With that, he turns and saunters back inside, leaving you standing there in disbelief with a generous view of his backside, and oh my god he was commando-
Your cheeks burn hotter than the sun as you let out a mortified groan, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. You shake your head, a mixture of frustration and disbelief and heat boiling inside you. “Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath, watching as he disappears into the mansion. Left to your own devices, you start to wring out your hair again, muttering curses at the audacity of the man who so easily disrupted your day. At least the sun is still shining, offering a bit of warmth as you stand there, dripping and annoyed and cold.
Soap strides back onto the patio, his demeanour relaxed and casual. He’s dressed in fresh clothes, looking every bit the picture of nonchalance despite the chaotic meeting.
He carries a couple of towels in his hands, their fluffy warmth a stark contrast to the damp chill clinging to your skin. “Here,” he holds out a towel toward you, his expression a mix of amusement and concern.
You take the towel gratefully, rubbing it over your hair and shoulders, trying to soak up as much of the moisture as you can. The warmth of the towel feels like a small comfort against the cold that’s settled into your bones.
“Thanks,” you mutter, focusing on the task of drying yourself off. But as you begin to dry off, Soap’s next words catch you off guard.
“How about you get out of those wet clothes? You’ll get sick if you stay in those.” His tone is casual, almost playful, but there's an underlying edge to his words that makes your stomach churn.
You look up from your towel, eyes widening slightly. “What? No, I-” You stammer, feeling a flush of heat rise to your cheeks. “I-I can’t just-”
He raises an eyebrow, his grin widening. “You can’t walk back through the house, you said so yourself. It’s not like I’m asking for anything weird.”
Despite his seemingly casual approach, there’s something unsettling in the way he’s looking at you. It’s not exactly threatening, but it’s an intrusion of your personal space and boundaries that makes you feel uncomfortable.
“Surely you have a- a side gate or something?” You squeak out as he continues to stare, his eyes trailing down your shivering shoulders and dripping hair.
“And then what?” Soap hums. “Make it to your car, get it all wet, chlorine in the seats and all. ‘Sides, you even have your keys on ya? You’re making it so complicated, lass. We have a clothes dryer, y’know.”
He nonchalantly gestures towards the house, as if he just solved all your problems. But you know this isn’t about dry clothes or wet seats. He’s pushing your boundaries, testing your limits, and you can’t stand it.
“I’ll just...” You trail off, not quite sure of your exit strategy. “You wouldn’t happen to have an- an old shirt or something I could at least borrow?”
Soap’s grin widens even more as he considers your request. For a moment, you think he might relent, but instead, he just shakes his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Nah, not really. But look, you’re already wrapped in a towel,” he says, motioning toward your damp clothes. “Why don’t you just take those off and get comfy? Promise I’ll find you something to wear.”
His voice is still playful, yet there’s a firm undertone to it, leaving no room for debate. You feel your resolve waver, knowing that standing your ground might only prolong this awkward encounter.
“I really don’t think-” you begin, but he interrupts.
“C’mon, it’ll just take a sec. You don’t want to get sick, do you?” he insists, nodding toward the house.
There’s a moment of tense silence as you weigh your options. Finally, you exhale sharply, realizing you’re caught between a rock and a hard place. It’s either follow his lead or shiver outside until hypothermia kicks in.
Reluctantly, you nod. “Fine. But- Go inside. I’ll be there in a moment,” you agree, your voice a mix of defiance and resignation.
Soap nods approvingly and steps past the threshold back into the house, sliding the glass door closed behind him, and you watch warily as he steps behind the wall. And then wait until you’re sure he won’t turn around. As you hastily peel off your soaked clothes, you can’t help but feel exposed, your vulnerability hanging in the air.
You hurriedly wrap and clutch the towel tightly around your body, feeling its coarse fibres rub against your skin as you gather your courage to follow Soap back into the house. Your wet clothes are heavy and cumbersome as you try to hold up the towel and the bundle of wet fabric at the same time, and you make your way across the patio and into the mansion’s interior.
With a deep sigh, you push open the glass door and step inside, immediately feeling the warmth of the house envelop you like a comforting hug. But it does little to ease the tension in your chest as you follow Soap's lead towards the laundry room where he casually loads his clothes into the dryer, his movements quick and practised. You pass your clothes over for him to load in.
“There we go,” he says with a satisfied nod, his hands deftly turning the dial to start the cycle despite the way he left the door wide open. You watch him closely, your grip on the towel unyielding as he eyes the pile of clothes you’ve handed over. Your cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and irritation as he makes a show of placing each piece in one by one.
“Still got some stuff on, huh?” he teases, pointing out the obviously missing garments. “You’ll have to take those off too.”
Your eyes dart to the floor, heat flooding your cheeks. “I’m not-” you stammer, but Soap waves a hand dismissively.
“Gotta dry those too, you know. Don’t you worry,” he says with a playful smirk. “I’ll just step out and find you some dry clothes. You can handle starting the machine, right?”
You nod silently, clenching your teeth to hold back any further protest. With a final glance, Soap disappears down the hallway, leaving you alone in the laundry room. The moment he’s out of sight, you let out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of the situation settle over you like a cold fog. With a resigned sigh, you quickly rid yourself of your soaked underwear, tucking them into the dryer with the rest before rewrapping yourself. The towel becomes your sole armour against the world, its embrace both comforting and precarious.
As you start the cycle, the noise of the machine fills the room, a steady rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. You stand there, alone and uncertain, wondering how you ended up in such an absurd situation.
You clutch the towel tighter around your body, the edges rough against your skin, as you stand in the dimly lit laundry room, the dryer humming softly beside you. It’s the only sound in the house, filling the silence with a steady, rhythmic pulse that matches the chaotic beat of your heart.
With Soap gone, the room feels cavernous, echoing with the lingering tension of his presence. You swallow hard, trying to push aside the knot of anxiety that has taken up residence in your chest.
“Hey, lass! Over here!” Soap’s voice calls out from one of the nearby bedrooms.
The warmth of the house seeps into your bones as you follow Soap’s call, tiptoeing down the hallway towards the bedroom where his voice beckoned. Your bare feet make no sound on the polished wooden floors, the air thick with the scent of lemon polish and fresh laundry.
When you reach the doorway, you pause, hesitating just outside the threshold. The room is spacious and well-appointed, with a king-sized bed draped in a quilted comforter and soft, ambient lighting that bathes everything in a golden afternoon glow. Kyle’s room. It feels intimate, and personal, standing there almost nude, and you can’t help but feel like an intruder in someone else’s space.
Soap gestures to a neatly arranged pile of clothes on the bed. “These should fit you. I’ll step outside while you change,” he says, and with that, he exits and closes the door behind him.
There’s an oversized, well-worn t-shirt sitting at the top of the pile, its fabric soft and familiar in a way that brings a sense of relief. But beneath it, your eyes catch on something that makes your breath hitch in your throat: a set of complex and expensive lingerie, delicate lace in rich, inviting hues that stand out starkly against the plainness of the shirt.
A slow, creeping sense of discomfort trickles down your spine as you take in the sight, your mind racing with questions. How did he get your size? Why is it your style, something you’d choose for yourself? And most importantly, why the fuck do Soap or Kyle have women’s lingerie?
The questions hang heavy in the air, demanding answers that you don’t have, leaving you standing there, feeling exposed and vulnerable. The room seems to close in around you, the walls drawing nearer, the atmosphere thickening with unspoken implications.
Your pulse quickens, and you take a step back, your grip on the towel tightening as though it might shield you from whatever game Soap is playing. It’s a cruel joke, you tell yourself, some twisted attempt to unsettle you, to test your boundaries.
You pick up the shirt and hold it to your chest, feeling a chill run down your spine. Before you can spiral any further into your thoughts, there’s a soft knock on the door, and you jump, your heart lurching in your chest.
Soap’s voice comes from the other side of the door, “You okay in there?”
You hesitate, your thoughts a chaotic whirl. Finally, you call back, your voice trembling slightly. “I’m fine. Just- just give me a minute.”
There’s no sound from the other side of the door. You exhale slowly, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, and focus on the task at hand.
You push aside the lingerie, opting for the t-shirt instead. The fabric is soft against your skin, hanging loosely over your frame, its weight offering a semblance of normalcy in an otherwise surreal situation.
With the towel abandoned on the floor, you take a moment to collect yourself, smoothing down the shirt and tugging it into place before glancing at the door. The lingerie remains untouched.
You leave it there, on the bed, refusing to give it any more of your attention as you turn your back on it and make your way to the door.
You’re ready to face whatever comes next, your resolve firm, your mind made up. You may not know what Soap’s game is, but you’re not about to let him get the upper hand. Let them get the upper hand again.
As you step out into the hallway, you find Soap waiting, leaning against the wall with an easy smile, as if he hadn’t just tried to unsettle you, as if he hadn’t crossed a line you didn’t even know existed.
“There you are,” he says, straightening up as you approach. “Feeling better?”
You nod, keeping your expression neutral, not giving anything away. “Much. Thanks.”
You can’t stop the shiver that runs through you when his eyes immediately dart down to your chest, and a furious blush crosses your face.
“They not fit?” Soap hums curiously, crowding you closer to the doorframe. Your nipples are as obvious as day through the shirt, still pebbled from the chill. You hurry to cross your arms and cover yourself. “Kyle was so sure they were the size you picked up.”
“Kyle?” You squeak, stepping back into said man’s bedroom. You try not to panic when Soap closes the door behind him.
“Aye. He bought them just for you. Would be rude of you to turn down his gift,” Soap says, his tone dangerously smooth, a predator closing in on its prey.
Your mind races. Kyle Garrick, the man who had been so kind to you, so friendly, bought you lingerie? The thought twists your stomach. This place, these men - they were playing games with you.
A cold knot of dread tightens in your stomach as Soap leans back against the doorframe, his easy grin now holding an edge of challenge.
"Go on, then," he urges, nodding towards the bed where the lingerie lies like a trap, waiting to spring. "Try 'em on."
You hesitate, the air in the room feeling thin and oppressive. "I really don’t think-"
His expression darkens, and the playful tone is gone from his voice. "No’ asking, lass. It’s what you do when someone gives you a gift. Try it on, show some gratitude."
Your heart pounds in your chest, and your mind races, searching for a way out, a way to maintain some semblance of control. But the weight of his presence, the unyielding expectation in his gaze, leaves you feeling cornered.
With trembling hands, you pick up the lingerie, your fingers brushing against the delicate fabric. It’s a stark contrast to the rawness of the moment, and you swallow hard, forcing yourself to keep your breathing steady.
“Alright, alright,” you mutter, trying to project a calm you don’t feel. “Just… give me a minute.”
Soap smirks again, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m waiting.”
You turn your back to him, your heart hammering in your chest as you begin to peel off the soft shirt. Each motion feels like a betrayal, your skin prickling with unease under his gaze. Bills, bills, bills. Loans. The cute red set. You can hear him suck air through his teeth when the fabric rises past your hips.
As you slip into the lingerie, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The sight is both surreal and unsettling, a stranger staring back at you with wide, uncertain eyes.
“I’m done,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper as you pull the oversized shirt over the lingerie. You hope it’s enough, that the shirt can shield you from the scrutiny, from the violation of this moment.
But Soap isn’t satisfied. His eyes glint with something dark and inscrutable as he steps forward, phone in hand, “Off with the shirt, then,” he says, a note of impatience threading through his words. “Got to show Kyle, lovie. He’d love to see you wearing what he got.”
Your heart leaps into your throat, but you don’t protest. Instead, with shaking hands and a pounding heart, you lift the shirt over your head, the cold air biting at your exposed skin. Goosebumps rise on your arms, and you cross them over your chest again, acutely aware of Soap’s eyes raking over you.
The lingerie feels alien against your skin, the fabric both soft and suffocating, as if it’s conspiring with the moment to strip you of your defences. The whole room feels smaller, closing in around you like a living, breathing entity watching the scene unfold with bated breath.
You’ve faced many things before, but none have felt as raw and unsettling as this moment, standing here, caught in Soap’s gaze. You feel like an actor in a scene you never agreed to, playing a role that twists your insides with shame and anger. With Simon, with Price, you were tugged along like a boat at sea, forced to float along the brutal currents they created. You were still an active participant, but you could place the blame elsewhere, direct your shame and hatred outwards because it wasn’t you, wasn’t your choice, you were just doing as you were told. But here, under Soap’s blue-grey stare, you felt alone, judged, isolated and cast under a spotlight. You could tug on the shirt, step past him, grab your keys and leave. But you don’t.
Soap steps closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as if appraising a work of art. But there’s nothing artistic about this - only a calculated manipulation, a display of power that turns your stomach.
He reaches out, and you flinch instinctively, your body recoiling from the touch that never comes. Instead, his hand lingers in the air, a silent threat that hangs between you, and then he nudges you gently but firmly backward.
He isn’t rough and uncaring like Simon, the big brute. He isn’t condescending and patronizing like Price, babying you into submission. He is not kind and friendly like Kyle, with his supportive touches and smiles. You know nothing about this man, and that scares you more than anything.
You stumble slightly as the backs of your knees hit the bed, and you sink onto it, the mattress yielding under your weight. Your heart races, your mind a whirlwind of fear and defiance, but you don’t look away, waiting for some sort of strike.
“Go on then,” Soap murmurs, his voice a low, taunting drawl. “Pose a bit, give Kyle something nice to look at.”
The suggestion hangs in the air like a noxious cloud, and you fight the bile rising in your throat. It’s an invasion, a violation that strips away your dignity, your autonomy, and all you want is to claw back some semblance of control.
But you can’t. Not here, not now, when everything is stacked against you. So instead, you hold your head high, meeting his gaze with a steely defiance that refuses to be dimmed.
“What if I don’t want to?” You say, your voice stronger than you feel, a spark of resistance that flares brightly against the encroaching darkness.
Soap’s smile widens, a predatory gleam in his eyes as if he relishes the challenge, the dance of power and defiance. “Then I’ll just have to convince you, won’t I?” He replies, his voice a low purr that makes your blood run cold.
He reaches out, his fingers grazing up your calves, sending a shiver down your spine. You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms, and bite back the retorts that threaten to escape.
“So pretty, bonnie,” he coos, dancing his fingers up your thighs until you let out a wavering sigh. He drops the phone against the duvet and reaches up to grasp your chin between warm, calloused fingers, forcing you to face him. You hate him. Hate him for reducing you to this quivering mess so easily when just ten minutes ago you thought you had some semblance of control.
Soap leans in, his breath warm against your skin, his lips a whisper away from yours. The room seems to hold its breath, the air thick with tension, as if the very walls are watching, waiting for your next move.
Your mind races, caught between the undeniable attraction and the anger that simmers just beneath the surface. Everything about him is wrong, every touch a violation of your autonomy, yet you can't deny the magnetic pull, the way his presence overwhelms your senses.
The kiss is electric, a storm of conflicting emotions that crash over you like a wave. It's demanding and rough, a collision of desire and defiance that leaves you breathless, your body betraying your mind as it responds to the heat of his touch.
His lips are firm against yours, moving with a confidence that borders on arrogance, a certainty that you'll bend to his will. And for a moment, just a fleeting heartbeat, you do, your resolve wavering under the intensity of the kiss.
But then the reality of the situation crashes down on you, a cold slap of clarity that pulls you back from the edge. You pull away, breaking the kiss with a gasp, your chest heaving as you struggle to catch your breath.
Soap watches you, a knowing smile playing on his lips, his eyes glinting with a mix of triumph and something darker, a shadow that lurks beneath the surface. He leans back slightly, giving you space but still crowding your senses, his presence as inescapable as the air around you.
"Smile for the camera, sweetheart," he says again, his voice soft but insistent, a command wrapped in a velvet glove.
You don’t have the time, nor the mental capacity, to react. You feel hot all over, confused, stunned. His lips had brought every simmering emotion to your mouth until it overflowed, out of control.
Your cheeks burned with humiliation and desire as you forced your stare to meet Soap’s again. There was a sick satisfaction in his eyes as he took in the tableau before him. It wasn’t hard to visualise how you must look - flushed from cheeks to chest, hands gripping at the sheets, covered in a sheen of sweat and goosebumps, topped off with spit-slick, kiss-swollen lips.
“Fuck,” he hissed under his breath, dropping the phone again in favour of running his hands over your ribs and waist before following the path with his lips. “Fucking perfect,” he trailed off, cutting himself off with a nip to the sensitive skin of your stomach. Despite your better judgment, his words made something in your stomach clench with both fear and anticipation. It was a feeling you weren't used to, this loss of control.
Soap’s hands and lips continued their exploration, mapping out every inch of skin they came across with an almost feverish intensity. Teeth grazed over your collarbone, causing goosebumps to erupt and spread like wildfire across your prickling skin. His hands cupped your breasts through the fabric of the bra, kneading them gently but with enough force to elicit a moan from your parched lips. You hated him for it - for making you feel like this, for making you want this, for stealing the illusion of control you worked so hard to maintain.
But as much as you hated it, as much as you tried to convince yourself it was just another means to an end, deep down there was a part of you that revelled in the attention. In the heat between your thighs that pooled and throbbed with each passing second; in the way his darkened gaze tracked your every move like prey.
He was quick and uncaring as he tugged down the bra, scooping your boobs from the cups and baring them to the warm air. In his other hand, he held his phone up high, capturing every moment of this humiliating performance.
“Stop- hah, enough, that’s enough,” you babbled nonsensically, writhing against the sheets as his left hand poked and prodded and twisted and toyed with your nipples.
His chuckle was low, dark, and it sent shivers down your spine. “Not even close, sweetheart,” he purred against your skin, his breath hot before he took a peak into his mouth. His right hand trailed down your stomach to the line of the panties. Your body protested every movement but betrayed you at every turn. The heat between your thighs seemed to have been lit on fire now, causing you to moan out in needy agony when his fingers brushed lightly over the damp fabric of your panties.
A low chuckle escaped his lips as he flicked a dextrous finger across your clit, control and lust entwined in the action.
Both hands had ventured southwards, now slipping between your thighs and dipping two fingers inside your slick core without any build-up or warning. Your entire body tensed at the intrusion, muscles clenching around him in surprise and desire. Heat pooled between your thighs and coiled in your stomach, a building inferno that threatened to consume you whole if he didn't stop.
“Fuck me, you’re soaked, bonnie,” he panted out from above, and you couldn’t bare to look at him, couldn’t bare to watch as you heard the rustle of fabric and his fingers returning to your cunt.
The feeling was almost too much to bear, and you bit down on your lower lip to stifle a moan as he thrust his fingers roughly inside you. Any other time, any other place, you would have told him off for being so rough, but now? Now was not the time for protests or modesty or anything else but the burning need that consumed you whole.
"So wet for me," he purred into your ear, his voice barely above a whisper but it still sent shivers down your spine. "Tell me you want it," he demanded, his fingers picking up in speed and intensity, absolutely relentless in their ministrations.
You shook your head, biting back a moan that threatened to escape your lips at any moment. You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing those words come out of your mouth. You wouldn't do it. But Soap had other plans. With a swift movement, he crooked his fingers inside you, hitting that bundle of nerves that had been swelling with need since he first took his shirt off.
"Tell me you want it," he said again, this time with more emphasis, his voice gruff with desire.
"I-I," you panted, hips bucking upwards uncontrollably into his touch. "I want it," you managed to gasp out between shaky breaths.
That was all the invitation he needed, roughly pulling his fingers out of you. "That's what I thought," he growled low in your ear before pressing his bare hips against the gusset of your panties, and you whined. He was hard, so fucking hard, and your traitorous body throbbed in anticipation.
You perched on your elbows and craned your neck to look down, watching as he slid his wet hand against his cock. With every stroke of his hand, his cock would bump against your panties, further staining the damn fabric and torturously pressing against where you ached.
One hand on his cock, his other lifted the fabric of your panties, tugging it taut and slipping himself in against your skin, held snugly against your cunt by the damp fabric that was soaked through with arousal.
A moan escaped your lips as he began to move, rocking his hips against yours in a slow, sensual motion that had you clenching around nothing. His cock was blistering hot against your pussy, the shape of it visible beneath the wet fabric, velvety skin rubbing up against you. The air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat and arousal as he continued to grind against you, teasingly brushing his hardened cock against your swollen clit with every thrust.
It wasn't long before you were meeting him thrust for thrust, every movement of his hips answered with one of your own, eager for more. Greedy, needy moans spilled from your lips, uncaring of who could hear, uncaring about anything but the man above you and the way he was making your body sing.
"You like that, huh?" he taunted, leaning in to bite the shell of your earlobe gently. "You're dripping for me, baby," he growled against your skin before sucking harshly on your neck.
"Yes," you panted out, neck arched in pleasure as he teased your most sensitive spot. “Yes, yes, yes!”
You couldn't believe this was happening. You were at war with yourself, half of you screaming at you to stop, to push him away, while the other half wished he would just rip the damn fabric and plunge himself inside you, consequences be damned.
"Say it again," Soap panted against your ear, his pace picking up in speed as his grip on your hips tightened, rutting against you wildly. "Say you want me inside of you."
Waves of ice crashed over you, and you scrabbled to push against his chest futilely.
"No," you panted through clenched teeth, your orgasm barreling down on you like a freight train. "No, no, no."
The pleasure was blinding. Dizzying. All consuming. You couldn't make sense of anything else besides the want, the need, the cosmos colliding behind your clenched eyes.
And then pain, an ache deep in your gut, the sting of stretching skin, and oh fuck, it was like you were cumming again before the first wave had finished, the feelings compounding together in mindless pleasure-pain, colour colliding until they became white.
Your eyes burst open, the world spinning as Soap let out a guttural moan, your hands flying against his chest and pushing with all of your remaining strength. The pain remained even as the pleasure dulled, but it didn’t grow - Soap was holding himself over you, his hand a blur as it furiously strokes his cock, the tip lodged into your cunt, he was inside of you-
“Fuck!” You screeched, shrill, your fists bashing against his pecs, his shoulders, his arms, but it was already too late - his head rolled back with a loud, guttural groan, eyes rolling in their sockets. His hand slowed its frantic pace. Something deep in your gut burned, a searing heat.
As he pulls out, his cock brushes against your clit and you sob, involuntarily clenching up and digging your shaky knees into his sides.
“Look’it you,” he purred out, voice like gravel, completely unphased by the way you wailed your clenched fists against him.
Your panties were tugged to the side, baring your cunt to his glossy, wide stare. Mesmerised. A warm trickle of wetness slipped down your thigh, and you wanted to die on the spot.
“Fuckin’ so pretty, bonnie,” he breathes out in admiration, causing another wave of sobs to bubble up in your chest. “Guess we owe Kyle a new pair, don’t we, little maid?” You choke back another sob when you see the black case of his phone pointed towards you, capturing your visage. The glass covering the camera reflects your tear-stained face and dishevelled appearance.
He leans back, taking his arm with him, pointing his camera down, down, to where he leaks out of you.
The beep of the clothes dryer from the other room jolts you back to reality. Your body feels heavy, weighed down by the burden of what has happened, the sense of betrayal and humiliation gnawing at your insides. You watch Soap move away, casually strolling over to the laundry room as if nothing has happened, as if he hasn’t just shattered your world.
The room felt like it was closing in on you, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on your chest, making it hard to breathe. You curled in on yourself, wrapping your arms around your knees, trying to find some semblance of protection, of comfort in the aftermath of the violation.
His phone is thrown face-up against the sheets.
You catch a glimpse of the screen; a messaging app open, photos of you filling the display. Your breath hitches in your throat, a cold shiver running down your spine.
He sent the photos.
You almost sigh in relief when Kyle’s name pops up, followed by a message.
- wouldve been perfect if you werent in it johnny
A cold shiver runs down your spine. If it was a private chat between Soap and Kyle, why was his name above the message? Your eyes drift up, up, to the title of the chat.
‘the roomies’
The reality of the situation slams into you like a freight train, the full weight of it crashing down and stealing the air from your lungs.
You back away from the phone as if it were a venomous snake, your heart pounding in your chest like a caged animal. You can’t breathe, can’t think, your mind a maelstrom of fear and shame. The thought of their eyes on you, their laughter echoing in your ears, is too much to bear.
Soap saunters back into the room, holding your clothes with a broad grin. “‘ere you go, bonnie maid. All nice and toasty for ya.” He tosses them onto the bed beside you, his eyes gleaming with a sick satisfaction.
You force yourself to move, to reach for the clothes with trembling hands. The fabric feels alien against your skin, a reminder of the violation you can’t escape.
You don’t even notice, don’t care, that you haven’t changed out of the fancy underwear, that Johnny still leaks out of you when you make it home.
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minminyoonjii · 5 months ago
Text
Spell [Chansung/Fem! Reader]
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❤️Ultimate Masterlist
💜Rules and Guidelines
💙Series Masterlist
🕯Summary: Jisung knew it was a bad idea to jerk off in the hallway but watching Chan and you play together plus the crude moans from your laptop, made his cock throb.
🌹CW
Tentacle Dildo Cock Sleeve|Tentacle Hentai|Edging|Masturbation|Frottage|Grinding|Multiple Orgasms|Voyeurism|Threesome! MMF|Degrading Praise Kink|Wet & Messy|Rough Sex|Dom! Bang Chan|Sub! Han Jisung|Squirting|Pussy Gape|Pervy! Reader|Instructions|Cunnilingus|Overstimulation|Oral Fixation|Fingering|Daddy Kink|Free Use|Teasing|Cum Dump|Very Sensitive Pussy|Sub Space|Deep Penetration|Aftercare
💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.
🍄Wordcount: 1.9K
Chan raised an eyebrow, hearing loud obscene moans from this room, 'Hah, ah, fuck yes! I can feel your dirty cum defile my fertile pussy, Yamada-kun.' he heard, muffled behind his door. He knocked, "Princess what are you watching?" he asked, opening the door. You looked over your shoulder, "Tentacle porn," you said, chewing on the gummy worms. Chan pressed his tongue beneath his bottom lip, "Oh, yeah?" he asked, lifting you onto his lap and hooking his chin over your shoulder. 
You nodded, watching the squid boy drill its tendril deep into the character's pussy. Chan nipped your ear, "Is this what you like, baby? Want your tummy bulging around Daddy's cock, yeah?" he whispered, licking your cheek. You shivered at the gravel in his voice, "Daddy I'm watching for the plot," you said, trying to hide your arousal. Chan chuckled, rubbing your sides, "I believe you, princess," he said, nosing your jaw. 
'Right there fuck! Fill my pathetic womb with your seed!' Jisung heard, standing by the door with his jaw dropped. His mind spun contemplating whether to close the door and walk away or stay and watch. More moans echoed into the hallway, spurring his cock to harden within his pants. Jisung bit back a hiss, his hand instinctively teasing the hem of his sweats. You squirmed on Chan's lap, trying to find a comfortable spot. 
Chan groaned into your ear, "Watch how you're moving, princess. You wouldn't want Daddy to interrupt your show now would you?" he whispered, shifting your clothed cunt right against his throbbing bulge. Jisung shivered, hearing Chan's voice over the crude moans from your screen, 'Fuck it' he thought, slipping his hand into his warm boxers, his cockhead leaking through the fabric. He clenched his jaw, trying his hardest not to thud his head against the wall as he stroked his leaky cock within his pants. 
Chan gripped your hips, rocking your body forward and backward on his aching bulge. Breathy puffs of air escaped your lips, head cloudy with need. "Daddy please," you pleaded, gripping the table in front of you to ground yourself. Chan grunted, "Get up and strip for me, princess," he said, unbuckling his belt. Jisung's lips wobbled, precum drenching the front of his sweatpants. He pumped his cock within his fist, hoping that the squelching from the show would muffle his own. You stood up, stripping off your skimpy shorts and soaking panties. Chan chuckled low, "So messy, baby girl," he said, swiping his fingers between your slicked folds. 
You tossed your head back, legs wobbling under the stimulation, and just as you were about to reply Chan, your eyes met with someone's. You flinched, alerting Chan instantly, "What's wrong, princess?" he asked, pulling you close. You placed a finger to his lips, and tapped your ear, gesturing to him to listen. Chan furrowed his eyebrows and that's when he heard it. Breathy pants and crude squelching coming from another part of the room. 
Jisung stroked his cock to the sound of the show, barely aware of his surroundings or the fact that you both were silent. Chan looked over his shoulder and smirked, "Dirty Quokka," he whispered, lowering the volume of the show. Jisung furrowed his eyebrows at the change of volume but the buzzing in his ears barely kept him focused. Your breath shuddered, "Ji sounds so pretty," you whispered, rutting your bare cunt on Chan's pants. 
He cooed, reaching down to rub your clit, "Yeah, baby? Do you want to hear Sungie's moans up close?" He asked, tugging back the hood of your clit, exposing the sensitive nub. Drool dripped down the sides of your lips, "Please," you keened, internally praying that Chan would give in to your submission. Chan hummed, lifting you to the bed, "Display yourself for us, baby girl," he said, ruffling your hair. You did as told, tugging off the rest of your clothes and laid on your back, legs spread apart with your aroused cunt on display. 
Chan approached the door and leaned against the frame, "Jisung-ah?" He questioned, a cocky smirk etched on his plump lips. Jisung squeaked, tugging his hand out of his pants. Precum coated his hand and his pants were stained dark. Chan chuckled, opening the door further, "What were you doing, Sung-ah?" He asked, pretending to be oblivious to the mess. Jisung gulped, cheeks burned red from embarrassment but the thrill of being caught made his cock twitch. 
Chan noticed the little motion, his smirk growing wider, "You're such a dirty slut, Jisungie," he said, crossing his arms. Jisung held back a whimper and covered his soiled pants with his hands. Chan clicked his tongue, "Did I say you can do that, prince?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. Jisung shook his head, putting his hands awkwardly to his sides, "No, Hyung," he mumbled, hanging his head low. Chan cooed, luring Jisung into the room and locked the door. 
Jisung swallowed an audible gulp when he saw your bare pussy. "Don't you want a taste, prince? I promise she tastes sweet," Chan said, wrapping his arms around Jisung's waist. "Can I?" he whispered under his breath, hands shaky from adrenaline. Chan nodded, "Go ahead, Sungie," he said, taking a seat in the chair, his legs spread with his cock heavy under his pants. Jisung kneeled in front of your cunt, his eyes dilated from the warmth hitting his face. 
He wrapped his arms around your thighs, bringing your body closer to him, "I'm going to make you feel so fucking good, darling," he groaned, flattening his tongue as he licked between your sloppy folds. "Sungie," you whined, lifting your head to make eye contact with him. Jisung hummed, flicking his tongue against your aching clit. You arched your back, rutting your hips forward to chase the stimulation. As he watched, Chan palmed his clothes bulge, his eyes hooded with lust. 
Jisung pulled back, drawing a desperate whimper past your lips, "I'm not going anywhere, darling," he grunted, spitting right on your clit. You hiccuped a moan, "Please, please, please," you babbled, needing more, aching for more. Jisung chuckled, burrowing his face into your cunt, his tongue thrusting deep within your walls. You wailed at the sudden penetration, your body thrashing from the pleasure. Jisung held you down firmly, his biceps bulging from the grip. 
Chan hissed at the chill zipper brushing against his damp boxers, "Curl your tongue, prince," he rasped, pumping his cock at a languid pace. Jisung did as told, curling his tongue deep within your hole, his nose pressed against your pulsing clit. "Hah! Fuck, fuck, ah," you whimpered, arching your body. Jisung's eyes rolled back at the taste of your cunt consuming his mouth. Your toes curled, orgasm threatening to snap when Jisung slipped a finger with his tongue fucking your hole apart, "Cumming, I'm gonna cum," you sobbed, tears spilling down the sides of your face. 
Jisung growled against your folds, sending vibrations through your body.  "Ah! Hah, fuck, hah," you wailed, squirting into his awaiting mouth. Jisung groaned, swallowing your orgasm like it’s second nature, the taste of your slick gushing down his throat made his mind fuzzy. Chan stood behind Jisung, "Good boy," he praised, tucking Jisung's hair behind his ears. "Now undress for me, prince," he added. Jisung stood up with shaky knees, his pants soiled beyond saving. 
He stripped off his clothes, his cockhead red and throbbing slapped against his abdomen. Your chest puffed up and down as you caught your breath. Chan chuckled, stroking your cheek, "Good girl," he praised, kissing your nose. You keened under his touch, melting from his security. Chan cooed, taking out a cock sheath, "Jisung-ah, do you mind wearing this?" He asked, holding up a tentacle-like dildo with a hole that goes through the middle and a cock ring for the toy to stay in place. 
Jisung gulped at the sight, his cock throbbing with arousal, "Yes, yes, please," he begged, aching to know how it would feel wrapped around his cock. Chan smirked, pumping Jisung's cock within his palm, "Such a leaky little thing. How do you control yourself in public, hm?" He teased, easing Jisung's shaft into the appropriate hole, his cockhead peeking out at the top. Jisung dug his nails into Chan's arm, the snug sleeve had ribbed silicon walls that stimulated his cock like an actual fleshlight, "Oh fuck," he gasped, drool dripping down his lips. 
Chan cooed, sinking the toy to the hilt of Jisung's waist and tucked his testicles into the ring, "All done, prince," he said, tapping Jisung's throbbing cockhead. "Hyung," Jisung choked out, using Chan's arm to stabilize himself. "You're doing such a good job, baby," Chan said, standing behind Jisung, his hand aligning Jisung's tentacle cock into your warm tight cunt. Your eyes dilated at the sight of the ribbed dildo, tentacle suckers decorating the sides. 
Chan kissed down Jisung's neck, "Don't forget to breathe," he said, pushing the tip of Jisung's cock into your sloppy hole. Jisung tossed his head back, broken whimpers escaping both of your lips. "Shh, shh. Such good dolls," Chan coaxed, pushing Jisung's hips closer to yours until the toy filled your leaky cunt. "Fuck," Jisung sniffled, holding your hips with shaky hands. You hiccuped a sob, feeling so deliciously full. Chan sat by your head, "Start thrusting, prince," he instructed, covering your mouth beforehand. 
Jisung bucked his hips, instantly making you wail as his cockhead kissed your cervix. Whimpers and groans escaped Jisung's glossy lips, "Holy fuck, hah," he whined, setting a tempo to his thrusts. You sobbed against Chan's palm, muffled cries echoing with the room. Chan cooed, stroking your hair, "Take his tentacle cock, princess. Feel every rib and sucker brush against your warm walls," he whispered, stroking your hair. 
You hiccuped, clenching hard around the toy when suckers rubbed right against the squishy part within your hole. Jisung wailed, head dropping forward from the tight squeeze, "I'm dying," he wheezed, setting an unrelenting tempo. You squealed into Chan's palm, your body quivering, overstimulated from the variations of pleasure. Your eyes rolled back as your body arched. Jisung quickened his thrusts tilting your pelvis forward until he was fucking you into a mating press, "Take it, take it, take fuck it," he babbled, pounding your cunt with the lewd sounds of smacking flesh.
Your orgasm snapped intensely as your body trembled from the shocks. Chan removed his palm, letting you cry out as another orgasm buzzed through your body. Jisung sobbed, cumming deep within your ribbed canal, "Fuck, fuck, hah," he panted, whimpering when your cunt fluttered around him subconsciously. Chan wrapped his arms around Jisung's torso, helping him ease his cock out from your hole, "Precious little dolls," he cooed, kissing Jisung's forehead.
Your mind felt light and cloudy, barely comprehending anything around you. Jisung whimpered at the sight of his cum pooling within your gaping pussy. You tried clenching but it barely closed all the way through. Chan stood next to Jisung, one arm holding him up while another pumped his cock. He groaned, marking Jisung's neck with bites while he stroked his cock with vigour. "Yes, yes, hah fuck," he grunted, cumming directly into your gaping hole. You mewled at the warmth, head spinning deep in subspace. 
Jisung hiccuped feeling his cock dribble more cum at the sight. Chan chuckled a pant, carrying Jisung to the bathroom, "Let's go my subby babies, Daddy's got ya," he said, setting Jisung in the tub. Your lips jutted into a pout, "Daddy," you hiccuped, making grabby hands towards him. Chan chuckled, nuzzling your hair as he picked you up, "Such a sweet little girl," he cooed, setting you next to Jisung. You burrowed into his shoulder with a dopey smile. Chan kissed the top of both your heads, "Precious little things," he said, coaxing you both through the high.
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