#just up and ripped the skin and some muscle off
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cinnamonest · 3 days ago
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Ataraxis
"Failed Escape Attempt" prompt - Akechi Goro (Persona 5)
Finally completed this amidst my myriad of hospital visits this month. Prolonged viral anaphylaxis works hard but the spirit of degeneracy works harder 🙏
warnings/notes: dark content, noncon, fem reader, implied significant age gap, captivity, electronic monitoring/shock collar, asphyxiation, abuse, vague suicide references, bro has THE mommy issues of all time, mild stockholm, somewhat detailed backstory for reader (in which reader is a bit of an enabler)
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Ataraxis - a state of tranquility, calmness, or peace of mind, free from mental stress or anxiety.
You hesitated. Your pulse was running fast, trepidation freezing your hand in place, just before you could touch the door.
No. You shook your head rapidly for a moment, trying to drive away the panicked thoughts. You couldn’t afford to waste time worrying about what-ifs, fueling your hesitancy. You’d done everything that you were supposed to in order for this to work. Gotten the doors unlocked, the wires cut, everything — you had to go through with it.
You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, pounding as you took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and reached for the door handle, turning it slowly.
You wished it was an apartment that opened directly to the outdoors — that you'd feel the sun, breathe in fresh air, the moment you opened the door — but you were met with a hallway, and the number of the neighbor directly across plastered on the door. Light still poured in from the hall, into the otherwise dark apartment only dimly lit by a TV running off to the side of the room.
Regardless, undeterred, after a mere moment of hesitation, you took a step forward.
And then, your body seized up.
Your knees hit the ground, but you didn't even feel the pain of impact, every nerve overtaken by a sudden overpowering sensation, overwhelming your senses.
Gasping for air, your feet flailed, kicking outward as your hands and elbows desperately dug into the ground, all in a frantic movement to scramble away from the door. As you stumbled back, you practically threw the door itself forward, and it slammed shut.
After moving a short distance, just enough for the blast of overwhelmingly discomforting sensation to come to a sudden stop, your body turned onto your back as you collapsed onto the floor, shivering, each breath ragged and heaving.
For a moment, all you could do was lay there and tremble, grasping at your throat, the focus point of the shock, metallic prongs pressed into your skin beneath the layer of leather that clung around your throat. Your vision spun, and no coherent thought could even be formed in your head, the panic and discomfort consuming your capacity for thought.
Even as the sensation faded, there was still a twitching throughout your body, muscles in your arms and legs and extremities tensing over and over against your conscious volition. You weakly reached up, wiping away the trail of saliva that had spilled down the side of your face.
Your chest still rose and fell heavily, back arching against the ground it laid on with each inhale. Your eyes stared wide open at the ceiling — discolored, where some fixture had been ripped out and caulked over, you'd noticed before — vision fuzzy from tears, dizziness, and the trembling that overcame your body, mind spinning on the brink of consciousness.
And with that, even through the disorientation and disequilibrium that kept your consciousness spinning, you could still make out one particular thought, a realization that came as a harsh blow — failure.
A near tangible emotion that you could physically feel as its weight settled onto your chest.
And then disbelief — that can't be right that can't be right — you'd done everything you were supposed to, everything had gone perfectly as you'd planned.
Countless weeks down the drain. All that time spent in preparation for this very moment, not only nullified, but now undoubtedly turned against you for your own detriment.
And if the feeling hadn't brought you enough despair, if the frustration and dismay alone hadn't been enough to bring you to tears that began to well in your eyes, your body stiffened again as an acute sensation of discomfort ran through body once more. You glanced upward.
And then, an intense cold sprouted in your gut, rapidly seeping through your blood, a chill that ran through your bones and flesh.
Pure, unadulterated dread.
The electronic eye, the circular lenses poised directly at you from the corner of the ceiling, burned into your flesh. You could feel the sense of observation through the proxy of the device, transmitted over distance and invisible waves no differently than the image the camera would project to the phone screen on the other end.
Your trembling hands slowly reached up to your neck, fingertips grazing the leathery material secured so tightly around your neck you could barely slide your fingers beneath it, just enough to feel the metallic prongs on the inner side that dug into the flesh.
That was the whole point of it all, the effort, the risks, the time and patience, accumulating every little thing you'd need for this one moment.
Everything had been so methodical, had to be executed with perfection and painstaking effort.
And yet, all for nothing.
Your legs were still trembling too intensely to stand. You weakly propped yourself up on one elbow, weary eyes scanning your surroundings in the small apartment, until you saw the shape of the small device where you’d left it sitting on the edge of the bed. You shuffled your way over to it, dragging yourself along the floor.
Slowly, summoning your strength, you pushed your elbows to the ground and forced yourself to sit upright, before lifting yourself up on shaky legs, just to practically fall down onto the mattress, reaching out to grasp the phone in your hand.
He was busy. He had things to do. He might not have checked any notifications that popped up. Maybe.
The flip phone was inconvenient on your end — a long since outdated piece of technology, incapable of accessing the internet, and easily restricted with built-in parental controls used decades ago, impossible to circumvent despite many attempts. It was capable of receiving and sending calls to a single number, as well as receiving texts from the same number.
The cold sheets began to warm under the heat of your body as you nestled into them. With the pillow close to your face, you could hear your own shuddering breaths in greater clarity, see your own fingers gripping the sheets with such force that the flesh around your finger joints went lighter.
You glanced at the tiny screen on the front of the closed phone.
‘11:52 a.m.’
Your heart skipped a beat — it was much closer to the daily call than you had hoped. You must have been lying on the floor longer than you realized. You only had a few minutes to prepare yourself.
Yes, he wouldn’t call you the very second he saw what you’d done. He would just stick to the usual schedule. He liked routines.
You sat fully upright, leaning back against the wall one side of the bed pressed against. You drew your knees up to your chest, hugging your arms around them, eyes glued to the small screen.
‘11:53 a.m.’
You could do nothing but sit there and wait.
The helplessness and futility quickly turned to despair. The full weight of your failure began to set in.
It had taken so long to execute the plan in full. You weren't even sure exactly why it failed — your own error, a backup battery of some kind, maybe.
Not that it mattered now.
Your mind raced over each little step taken, all to culminate in futility, but any structure to your thoughts simply fell apart into bitter defeat.
You were brought out of your thoughts by shifting of numbers on the screen, several minutes having passed.
‘11:58 a.m.’
You could feel each beat of your heart, the pressure of blood circulating through your head and your throat. Your stomach churned.
‘11:59 a.m.’
You sat still, staring with wide eyes, unable to do anything against the unstoppable force of the passage of time.
'12:00 p.m.'
No sooner had the numbers shifted, that the phone screen lit up brighter, and the device began to vibrate.
Your stomach tightened, a cold, stiff feeling seized your limbs and every muscle tensed as the phone rang. A name popped up on the little front screen.
‘Goro’
He'd been the one to put the number into the device, to assign that title to the contact. At first, you’d assumed he didn’t want to bother painstakingly typing out any more than necessary on the device’s old 12-digit typing system.
Or maybe keeping you physically separated from the world was not enough — if you couldn’t exist in the outside world, if you had to be separated from it, naturally, you couldn’t use the same name for him as everyone else, all those people on the television and the voices on the other end of the phone.
A confliction of instincts twisted in your gut — an impulse to answer it immediately, knowing not doing so could not go without repercussion, yet at the same time, you reflexively shrunk back, as if repelled by the sound, clutching your hands to your chest at the immediate revulsion to the mere thought of answering.
And it rang, twice, three times. Your mind ran blank, staring wide-eyed at the screen.
But between conflicting instincts, you knew what you had to do.
Thus, on the fourth ring, snapping out of your momentary stupor, shaking hands latching on and flipping the top upward, the word that came out in a wavering voice was—
“…Goro?”
Your voice came out rougher than you'd hoped, an obvious rasp from the strain.
If he noticed, he didn't acknowledge it. Instead—
“Good afternoon.”
The voice that came through the other end was bright and cheerful. The same voice that he used on talk shows and public addresses. Composed, amiable, fairly upbeat, without any trace of negativity.
And then, he added,
“What have you been up to today?”
It was such a light-hearted tone, you thought for a moment, with some desperate hope, that he hadn't noticed. Maybe it hadn't triggered a notification. Maybe he just didn't see it.
Or maybe it was a test. Maybe he wanted you to be transparent. You didn’t know. There was no way to know.
The lingering exhaustion from all the strain left you somewhat dazed, and you hesitated as you slowly summoned an answer.
“Oh, I just… I watched some TV earlier…” You tilted your gaze over to said television as it continued to run silently off to the side of the room, a mere distraction kept on for some semblance of stimulus. “They… they were talking about the phantom thief people on the news again.”
He sighed. You tensed for a moment, worried that perhaps it was something that would only frustrate him, knowing the matter was a bit of a sore subject.
But instead, it seemed to be merely a part of the flow of conversation — he accepted your so-very-forced and awkward shift of subject without resistance.
“It’s all anyone ever talks about, recently.” You heard a shuffling sound, presumably shifting his posture. “The average person is only invested in the matter as a form of entertainment. It's distant enough from them personally that they can afford to treat it as such.”
“O-oh, right…” Struggling to think of something else, to further steer the topic away from yourself, you continued, “…Are you at school?”
“No, I'm at the station. The police called me in to help with something new, but…” he sighed again before continuing, “it turned out to be incredibly simple, and they’re already done with it. I don’t know why they thought they needed to take up my time with this…”
His voice got a little lower as he spoke, irritation breaking through the winsome charm that characterized that public-facing voice of his. Within a moment, though, it snapped right back to the correct gentleness as he continued—
“On the bright side, I only have a few things left to do, so I can come back to you a little sooner than usual.”
Your fingers clenched at the fabric of your shirt, your shoulders going tense.
“Oh, good…”
Your mouth felt dry. Your mind scrambled to think of anything else to say, but a heavy fog drenched your thoughts away, leaving nothing but a blank slate, unable to generate anything coherent.
There was another moment of pause.
"You sound a bit out of it. You're not feeling faint from earlier, are you?"
You blinked, the very daze of brain-fog he referred to making you slower to take in the words.
"I... What?"
He didn't miss a beat, nor falter in his tone, as he clarified—
"From the shock, I mean."
Your body tensed, shrinking back as if the words had truly been the gut punch they felt like. Your jaw hung ajar, your mind scrambling for a response.
Quiet seconds ticked by. Your shoulders rose and fell with harsh, short breaths.
"I… I guess a little…” You fidgeted nervously, fingers further curling into the fabric of the shirt that covered your upper half.
The voice on the other end remained upbeat and gentle even still.
"Ah. Well, try not to walk around, okay? The lingering effects can make you uncoordinated for some time." After a pause, he added, "I wouldn't want you to fall over and hurt yourself."
Your mouth felt dry. You shifted around in place.
“Oh… okay…”
You swallowed. Your eyes darted around the apartment.
You turned your bottom lip inward, biting down on it to alleviate your nerves, only for the sharp pain to stop you as soon as the pressure touched the spot where the flesh of your lower lip was already busted. One of many sore, bruised spots that littered your body.
The discomfort at the following pause of silence was nearly tangible. Your natural instinct was to shift away from the matter as quickly as possible, shame and fear and uncertainty forming a hard knot in your stomach, but no words came to mind.
Sensing that you weren't going to continue, he spoke again.
“Well, in that case, I'll see you soon—’
“H-hey, wait…”
Your voice was undoubtedly audibly uneasy, but he still replied with the same soft tone.
“Mm? What is it?”
You opened and closed your mouth, once, twice, struggling to collect your panicked thoughts coherently. He waited, patiently, not saying a word.
“…About that.” The single phrase was all you could manage.
"Ah, right.”
At that point, his voice was too upbeat, so unfitting the turn of conversation, that the reality of it being forced was no longer deniable, a fact that made your stomach churn.
As the pause lingered, he added in an equally calm, matter-of-fact tone, “well, if there's anything you wanted to say, now would be the time to tell me. It’s only fair to give you a moment to do so.”
You would have preferred bitterness and vitriol in his tone, accusations, promises of consequence. Anything else. The unease and uncertainty of the pretense of normality, of nothing being wrong, felt crushing.
“It…” You swallowed. “That, that was an accident, I just, I got too close and…”
It felt as if your throat closed up, unable to say anything more.
There was silence on the other end of the line. Suffocating, so heavy it was tangible, physically weighing down on your chest.
As the moments of quiet passed, you could very faintly hear sounds on the other end, people walking, distant unintelligible chatter from other people passing in the near vicinity.
Finally, a voice came through — several decibels lower than moments prior, a flat and empty tone; quiet, but spoken more closely to the receiver, ensuring that the words were directly in your ear.
“…You don't actually expect me to believe that, do you?”
You remained frozen in place, eyes wide, hand now curled into fists so tightly your knuckles paled.
He waited. There was no need to ask if something was the matter or wonder about a poor connection, the way one might normally do when met with silence on the other end of the line. There was only tension, dread, a mutual knowing.
You swallowed again before you spoke, barely above a whisper.
“…No.”
There was a soft, lighthearted laugh on the other end, a transition back to the same gentle voice as before, as if he’d never deviated from it.
“Ah, that’s good. Truthfully, I'd feel a little insulted if you thought I was that gullible.” You heard some background noise, a shuffling sound, perhaps standing or shuffling positions. “Well, anyway, as I was saying, I’ll be back a bit early. I’m already allowed this day off from school, so there’d be no point in going back when I don’t have to.”
Your lower jaw hung ajar, tongue dry and stiff. The television off to your side changed subject matter on the screen, the new set of colors shifting the hue that the dim light cast onto the walls.
“Oh, great! I…”
You swallowed, barely able to feign a happy tone, struggling to form any further words over the feeling of your stomach turning in on itself.
You knew that your attempt at faux cheerfulness to your voice was not convincing either of you. He knew the true emotion you felt in your chest and your gut, you knew he knew, he knew you knew he knew. Whether you kept the act up regardless out of some fear or desire to appease, or simply a lifetime of conditioning to the politeness norms of human interaction, maybe both, you weren’t certain. It was just the norm you’d settled into, the act that kept things at a peaceful equilibrium — until those inevitable moments that it fell apart, and the great pretend-act came to however long of a halt it would.
Another set of seconds ticked by. Far too long of a pause to be socially acceptable, far out of the bounds of normalcy, yet he merely waited for you to finish once more, neither acknowledging nor expressing any confusion or concern to the duration of your pause, letting you compose yourself to finally reply.
“…I’ll be right here.”
It was the only thing you could think of to say, though you felt a sharp sting in your chest of self-directed frustration at the recognition of the wavering of your own voice.
His response, unlike yours, was immediate, and the bite of the words made every muscle in your body tense.
“Well, I would certainly hope so.”
In the mere moment your breath hitched, there was a chime tone indicating the end of connection.
Even with the call ended, you merely sat frozen still, staring at the shifting colors that bounced off the wall. Slowly, your hand descended from your face, arm lowering down to your lap as your shivering fingers finally forced the phone shut with a heavy snapping sound.
You set it down on the bedside table, and you found yourself sitting still, trembling, eyes wide open as you were left with nothing to do but wait.
He was a fairy predictable person. To a significant extent, you knew how he'd react to certain actions and words and gestures, based on moods, circumstances, good days and bad days.
The issue was not a matter of not knowing what to do — but knowing there was nothing you could do. There was no deescalating, no appeasing, no way to atone for a given transgression. The one thing you'd learned very quickly was that if he was upset, there was no way to soothe it on your own, you simply had to endure whatever came your way.
And that knowledge brought despair.
You found yourself slowly letting yourself fall to your side, curling up into yourself as you came to lay on the mattress.
There was a pinching discomfort against your side. The fabric of your shirt had bunched up, digging into your skin where you lay on top of it. You shifted, lifting your back enough to pull it down and straighten it out. It was deliberately oversized, designed for wearing around the home, so that and equally soft shorts were all you’d needed — perhaps not changing was another oversight in your plan, you realized with a twinge of bitterness.
You had to admit you were well-taken care of in many ways. He’d given you quite a lot of clothes to wear, so you picked that which was comfortable to wear when all you did was lay down all day.
Although, he’d never bought anything — rather, they all came from an aged-looking box pulled out of the closet, everything perhaps a decade or so outdated. He did insist on you wearing them, refusing to retrieve anything of yours even if you asked.
Just like he insisted you needed to have your hair a certain length, to wear the specific perfume he'd hunted down just to buy for you, to follow a handful of oddly specific regulations, all of which were met with defensiveness and dismissal if you inquired as to why.
You preferred to not think about the matter.
The TV colors shifted again, this time to a drastically increased brightness. Your eyes squinted at the slight sensation of burning, long since adjusted to darkness. The windows were covered up now, and the lamp in the corner had run out of battery, seeing as it was very specifically cordless.
You pulled the covers over your head, and let your face contort with the oncoming tears that welled in your eyes. You curled up into a ball, bunching up part of the sheets and tugging them close to your chest.
Your shoulders jerked with miserable sobs, and you bit your quivering lip, this time even disregarding the pain, as the despair took hold. You wiped at your eyes, flinching as the touch sent more ripples of pain from the swollen, sore right side of your cheekbone where a bruise had formed from the events of — when was it, the day before yesterday? The day before that? You weren’t even entirely certain, the days had long since all begun to bleed into each other, lacking any distinguishable beginning or end.
You had no recollection of falling asleep, but the next thing you were aware of was your body jolting at the sudden sound from the door that woke you.
There was a metallic rustling. Normally, at that point in the routine, you would hear each in the series of locks turned with a click, one by one — only now, after the first, he seemed to realize each had already been unlocked, yet another part of your earlier attempt that, you now realized with a twinge of dread, you’d forgotten to even try to cover up.
Thus, the door merely slowly swung open, the flat door handle — implemented to replace a traditional knob — shifting to the side.
Slow, heavy footsteps on the cold tile.
"I'm back."
It wasn't cheerful, but it wasn't angry. A flat tone that sounded more exhausted than anything.
It felt as if your stomach were going to lurch up out of your throat.
You pushed yourself upward on your arms, and forced a weak, wavering smile.
"Ah... Welcome home…”
You closed your eyes, rubbing at them with the heel of your hand to ward off residual sleepiness, hoping your eyes weren't visibly puffy. You sat upright and pulled your knees up to your chest, making room for another body on the small bed.
Setting the briefcase down on the floor, he then held up a convenience store plastic bag for a second, giving it a slight shake to draw attention before setting it down on the countertop.
“I got something for us both. Whenever you want it.”
“Thanks.”
As if it weren't the case each day — you'd offered more than once to cook something out of sheer boredom, but that meant giving you knives, and the idea was swiftly rejected, and he certainly couldn't do it himself, thus you both lived off of convenience store food.
You could hear the rustling sound as he took the layers of clothing off. The thumping of shoes as they were pulled off and placed on a rack. The suit jacket went on a hook near the door, but everything else was loosely set on top of a set of drawers, until he was down to briefs and an undershirt.
It was almost a bit odd, he looked out of place — someone normally so poised and formal, who so carefully crafted every detail of both his appearance and demeanor to appear intelligent and charming, qualities to endear himself to the masses, yet executed to such a degree of perfection that he seemed nearly untouchable — and here and now, taking on such a flawed, mundane form.
His posture went more lax, his eyelids seemed to fall, and the removal of the outer shirt had messed up his hair just a bit. As if in the act of taking off layers of clothing, he was stripping himself too of the public face.
Your eyes glanced over at the drawers — the clothes were merely strewn loosely on the top, accompanied by an empty water bottle, a plastic wrapper from something he'd brought home the day prior. Little flaws, the casual messiness expected of normal young man.
You'd found it almost amusing, the first time you'd set foot in here — for someone who was such a perfectionist in every other aspect of life, so obsessed with image and impressions and maintaining a flawless presentation, so determined to put up that aura of maturity so far above what was expected or even normal for his years — it was all shed off behind that door, like a snake to its skin.
You, too, were a part of it, one of the many testaments to the imperfection only allowed in this little haven away from the ever-watching eyes of the world.
And now, slowly making his way over to the bed with weary, dragging footsteps — hair disheveled by the undressing, the absence of the stiff material of the uniform that always made his shoulders look a bit more broad, up close and in person with no camera and screen and lighting to hide the textures of the flesh of one's face or the ever so slight darkness under his eyes, and with half-lidded, glazed-over eyes of a spirit worn down by a long, busy day — was a very normal, very human teenage boy, not so different from any other after all.
You looked up at him and forced a weak smile.
His eyes, however, were shifted downward from you, glancing at the sheets. Whether it was just tiredness or unwillingness to look you in the eye, you weren't certain.
You'd somewhat expected him to confront you the moment he opened the door, be it with direct aggression or passive coldness, or perhaps to continue the feigned act of pleasantness.
But instead, you received only quiet stillness, a neutral expression — and that was somehow far more frightening.
Instead, the mattress shifted and creaked as he climbed on, quietly pulling the blanket up to move beneath it. You wriggled backwards to make more room for him.
He moved to sit beside you. Not touching, but with the close proximity only people who were close to one another would be comfortable with.
And he'd stay that way, if you did nothing. Trial and error had proven that as well. If you did nothing, he would never move, would never get closer, waiting for you to do it with increasing irritation the longer you took.
You had to initiate these things. He never told you when you were supposed to give affection, never asked for touch or comfort, leaving you to try to decipher what was desired.
Of course, if you tried to provide those things at the wrong time or for the wrong reason, you'd also be in the wrong — then, you were being manipulative, hiding something, trying to distract. You were often deemed to have acted incorrectly regardless.
This was, thankfully, a repetitive, daily routine, so you were fairly certain you knew what was correct.
Fighting back a sense of dread, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around his frame, making a soft sound as you gently pulled him back. He went with the motion easily, coming to lay down with you, facing each other.
You shuffled your body upwards and forward, reaching a shaky arm over his back, wrapping it around his frame and pulling him in so that his head rested against your chest. Only once you had done so was the gesture reciprocated, and you felt an arm reach around your waist.
You wondered if he could feel how hard and fast your heart pounded.
You tried to break the silence, finding some stimulation to be more bearable than pure silence.
“…How was your day?”
You felt his heavy breath against your chest. He exhaled, and with it, his body went lax, tension leaving his shoulders as he slumped further into the bed and against your body.
“Difficult.”
The word came out muttered, audibly laced with exhaustion and frustration.
“…Well, it’s over now, at least. You should rest.”
Your attempts at words of comfort were not the best, distracted by your nervousness and unease. You attempted a soothing gesture, running your hands through his hair, then down his back, repeating the motion over and over. You felt even more tension leave his body, practically melting into the touch.
It had taken him a long time to get used to that. A single graze of your fingers to his shoulder used to make him stiffen and recoil.
But over time, that defensive reaction faded, then he started leaning into the touch, and then he started to lean forward when your hand pulled away as if trying to bring it back, and soon he would sit closer, lean in further, fix his gaze at your hands — all but begging, yet never actually asking nor initiating, always waiting for you to be the one to close that gap.
But even though he seemed content, you didn't get a response to your words. That only made your nervousness increase.
Was he waiting for you to acknowledge it? You weren't certain. That sort of seemed like what he'd do. You just didn't know, couldn't be certain, and it ate further away at your nerves with each passing second.
As your eyes flickered over to the television again, you raised your eyebrows with recognition when the face on the screen registered. You attempted to stir some extent of conversation again.
"Hey... you're on TV."
"Mm." He didn't bother to open his eyes, much less turn back around to see.
Deciding from that response that it was better to not push further, you closed your eyes. The changing visuals of the television took form as shifting colors behind your eyelids.
Pressed up against each other, the back and forth movements of your bodies with each breath in and out was soothingly rhythmic, lulling you into momentary tranquility and ease. The atmosphere was so quiet, so gentle, you thought for a moment that perhaps the matter could simply be forgotten, that your mutual desire for peacefulness and rest outweighed any residual negative emotion.
Then you felt his fingers start to curl.
Slowly, they arched upward, the tips of his fingers pressing into your back, fingernails digging into the flesh through the fabric.
Your eyes shot open, and your heart began to speed up once more.
“…Goro?”
He didn't answer. His arms fully locked into place against your back, pulling himself ever closer to you, your collarbones digging into his forehead. He held you so tightly, with such strain, you felt his arms begin to tremble.
You squirmed in place, dread now returned in full force. You scrambled to find words in an attempt to deescalate.
“Hey, hey— listen, I'm sorry, I just—”
“Don't say that.”
His voice was a low, but firm murmur, barely audible and muffled by your shirt. You went stiff, toes curling, every muscle taut. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat.
“Don't…” His chest rose and fell against yours as he took a heavy breath, “say you're sorry.”
You could do nothing but lay still, tense and frozen, wide-eyed as you felt his hand move, circling back to your front side.
You could hear his breaths become ragged, heavy. He slowly raised himself up, propped up on one elbow, coming to loom over your wide-eyed, trembling form.
“You have… no right…”
His hand latched onto your jaw, a painful, crushing grip, voice taking a sudden turn to a sharp, fierce hiss.
“…to say that shit to me.”
Your heart pounded. You inhaled a sharp gasp and squirmed, a natural reflex to the spike of panic surging through your veins. You grasped at his hand and pulled, to no avail.
“A-ah, no, I really—”
“Shut up.” The words were spoken through clenched teeth, a quiet, hissing voice. His hand squeezed your jaw tighter, pain rippling up through your face. “You want to placate me. Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“No,” you shook your head rapidly, eyes squeezing shut as fearful tears began to accumulate. “I don’t… I don’t know what else I can—”
“I have done,” his words of interruption were interspersed a heavy breath, “everything I could possibly do, to help you adjust to this.”
You could feel his nails dig into your flesh. Every part of you wanted to flail, to kick and struggle out of pure defensive instinct, to ramble on with apologies, but what little rationality and willpower remained kept you still, knowing from past experience that that would only make things worse. Instead, you lay still and tense, trying to control your own rapid breaths.
“I got you things you like to do,” he continued. “I got you things you asked for.”
Your toes curled, your hand gripped at his own locked onto your jaw. Your body felt cold.
“G-Goro—”
“But that's not good enough, is it?”
You managed to swallow, feeling the upper part of your throat shift under the pressure where the heel of his hand made contact.
“No, no, it's—”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up. I told you to stop trying to placate me.”
His grip was crushing.
You couldn’t even finish a single sentence.
It was a futile effort. You knew full well that once he was upset, there was nothing you could do about it, no compromising, no appeasing.
Any attempts at such were helpless, pointless. The only way forward was to accept and take whatever would come.
Yet, it was only natural instinct to still try, to rush to attempt to fix what was wrong was only the logical, immediate impulse; you didn’t know what else you could do, and that only made the futility of it that much more crushing.
Thus, all you could do was tremble, whimper, lip quivering as you waited in trepidation.
“Then what… what do you want me to…?”
His eyes were dark, hair casting a shadow over them from the rapidly shifting colors of light that projected from the screen onto the rest of his face. A huff of offense at the question caused a segment of his hair to shift. His grip relented.
He sat upright, one hand up to grip at the side of his face in a gesture of frustration, eye glaring at you from the gap between his fingers.
“What do I want?” His voice was at least lower, a touch calmer from the momentary outburst, even if still frustrated. “I want you to follow the simplest of instructions, and you continuously prove incapable of that.”
“I…” You swallowed, pushing yourself upward with your forearms presses to the mattress. “I really just—”
“All you have to do,” he continued, fingers held to his face rigidly curling, “is stay in here, and do whatever I tell you to do — which is not much, mind you.”
“I, I know, I know!”
He scoffed.
“You certainly aren’t acting like it.”
You kept quiet, wanting to respond, wanting to placate him to any extent you could, but unable to think of anything to say coherently, overwhelmed and panicked. At your silence, he gave a heavy sigh and fixed his gaze to the wall, turned away from you despite his words being directed at you.
“You don't have to worry about anything. You don’t have to do anything.” He huffed again, eyes closing and grasping at the bridge of his nose in a gesture of irritation. “I have done nothing but make life easier for you, and you refuse to even attempt to understand that. Is it truly so hard to simply stay put?”
“N-no, no, I just—”
At your denial, his head snapped back to face you, voice turning to a nasty snarl.
“Then why the—”
And he cut off as he turned his gaze back to you.
Your huddled form was shrunken back away from him, curling in further on yourself, as you always did in reflex to such harshness. Eyes wide in fear and, as you could tell from your blurring vision, tears were visibly welling up in your eyes.
His momentary narrow-eyed, wrinkled-nose expression of disdain fell as quickly as it had appeared. He turned his head back away from you, hanging down to face the floor.
Everything went quiet. For a few moments, only silence hung in the air.
And then, he sank back down onto the side of the bed, slowly, softly, shifting so that he sat with his feet over the side to rest on the floor. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his thighs. He tilted his head to rest his forehead on his hands, clasped together.
You sat fully upright as well, weakly reaching up to rub at your jaw, now throbbing in the absence of constriction.
You waited in the quiet, curling up into yourself, knees brought up to your chest, a reflexive defensive position. The uncertainty of the consequences of anything you might do kept you still. The awareness that trying to move away was a bad idea kept you firmly in place.
Likewise, there were no words that came to mind that you were certain would not earn a negative reaction, and thus, you waited in stillness and silence, mind drifting as you glanced over at the screen once again. Taking in the face displayed in the light, mouth moving silently, smiling and gentle and calm, barely recognizable, as if that of a stranger — but it was not.
Nor was it as if the one on screen was entirely a mask or a mere act, but a part of him just as much as the “other” part was. You often imagined such what-ifs in your head — if the adoring public could see this, see you, to know what things were like behind the door.
You wondered if anyone else knew the person beside you now. You now saw that side more often than the other one — a dependency that formed over time, you assumed, like an addiction, you were only viable thing to expel stress and frustration into, and thereby the only source of catharsis available.
And while there were still good days, days that almost felt like nothing had happened at all, like you just so happened to be here and everything was still normal — there were so many bad days. One unpleasant possibility had long since begun to seep into your mind, one that you found yourself mulling over with increasing frequency and dread.
And something about the moment of vulnerability brought that matter out of you, defeat and despair pulling the words out of your mouth.
“Do you still like me?”
The question felt so childish to ask, it made your face feel warm.
Quiet seconds passed.
His face turned to a mild scowl, you could see the corners of his mouth pull taut, though he didn't pull his head out from his hands.
“…Why would you even ask that?” His voice was still defensive, but far quieter than the outburst moments prior. “Why do you think you're here?”
You winced, sheepishly wringing your hands in nervousness, but managed to swallow and continue nonetheless.
“I thought maybe, you'd decided you didn't now, but just… didn't know what to do with me.”
He scoffed.
“Don’t be absurd.”
Despite the words technically being positive, his tone was laced with frustration, irritation, rather than any actual reassurance towards you.
There was a discontentment in his voice and what you could see of his face — perhaps to some degree, he wanted to say something else, but for whatever reason remained silent.
You were afraid, so very afraid, and yet the words came out anyway. Your spirit was worn down, your exhaustion even seeping past your fear.
“You don’t… act like it much.”
His hands shifted, clasping tighter, muscles tensing.
His voice was increasingly calmer, but still laden with a blatant tone of pretentious irritation.
“Maybe if you stopped being difficult, things could be different.”
More silence. You fidgeted in place.
“…Is that… what you want?”
“Clearly it isn’t what you want,” he muttered, “even though this was your fault to begin with.”
You closed your eyes at the harsh words, knowing all too well exactly what he meant. Knowing it was inevitable that this would lead down the same trail of dialogue that it always did, a conversation that had been had at every opportunity. That even if you said nothing, it would go that way anyway. Every time the matter came up even tangentially, he had to be sure to remind you. You waited a few seconds in silence, and sure enough—
“Don't forget that, either. You chose this.”
His voice was quiet. Cold and somber, placing so much weight on so few words.
A familiar line. In the beginning, he'd said it constantly. A reminder drilled into your head, over and over, so much that you often found yourself close to believing it.
“You just had to go out of your way and do everything you did,” he continued, in spite of a lack of response from you. Even with his face partially obscured by his hands and hair, you could see his nose wrinkle with an expression of disdain, his voice laden with bitter anger, as if describing some immense transgression.
Had you not been in this position, desperate to calm him and dispel any negative emotion within him, you might have argued against such a notion. But instead, you merely swallowed, before forcing out a reply.
“…I’m sorry… I wanted to help…”
“I was perfectly fine.” His fingers arched as he tightened his grip where they interlaced. “I didn't need help.” He gave a frustrated huff, hair shifting with the exhale. “You deliberately went out of your way to be—”
He cut off, mouth slightly ajar, struggling to verbalize the feeling itself, and thus, after a moment, he finished in a low mutter, perhaps self-aware of what a weak choice of words he had nothing better than to settle on, or even of how ridiculous it sounded that he was framing it as a wrongdoing.
“…to be nice.”
Such a simple, plain word, it sounded nearly unfitting from a individual normally so very articulate. The softer mumble of the words themselves was almost as if spoken in defeat, reluctant.
He leaned his head further down against his hands, spreading the palms apart so that they came to cover his eyes completely as his forehead rested against them.
You couldn’t formulate a response — in part from the intensity of emotion and exhaustion, but in even larger part due to the sheer absurdity of the matter, the way your kindness was framed as a wrongdoing, as something from which the outcome you now found yourself in should have been expected.
You sat still and slack-jawed, eyes scanning the sheets as you tried to process your thoughts, think of anything to say, try to appease him, but he spoke again before you could.
“You talked to me first,” he added, as if that fact proved some sort of important point.
Yes, if only you had known, in that moment, the chain of events you would set off, the consequences of a single act of considerateness.
Being a desk worker at the police station, it was inherently a responsibility to greet and help anyone who came walking by, but you found it particularly endearing when you saw some poor high schooler wandering around, now what felt like ages ago, brows furrowed in confusion and eyes scanning each of the directories and room numbers, blatantly lost.
Are you looking for somewhere in particular? I can help you.
You’d watched him stiffen and fidget, even if he managed to maintain that smooth, confident aura to his voice, smiling sheepishly, but accepting your offer for directions.
You'd thought it was cute.
“And you went out of your way to talk to me every single day,” he muttered. “You chose to do that.”
Yes, you’d begun a regular routine, one you thought little of. You greeted him when he came in, wished him a good day when he left.
Truthfully, that was something you did for every regular face that came through the building each day. In hindsight, you often wondered if he had believed it was uniquely reserved for him.
That had turned into conversations, when he started to linger — though you doubt you could get him to admit he had done so, even if he was self-aware that he had. Conversations that were first brief, but gradually grew longer.
A mature and capable sort of character, almost unbefitting of someone his age, yet there was a distinct sort of neediness that seeped through the cracks, whether or not he was aware that it was increasingly evident. The distinct desperation for positive attention so characteristic of a teen, that no amount of effort could conceal completely.
Only exacerbated by his life situation, you assumed — though, you'd only learned about that as a jarring startle, dumped onto you one afternoon as casually as if talking about the weather, and already having moved on to another matter before you could sputter out some kind of sympathetic response, and you'd never had the gall to mention it thereafter.
Regardless, you were certain that, be it conscious or subconscious, that information had played a role in your efforts to show him kindness.
Now, the same boy sat just an arm’s length away, scowling as he recalled those moments like some transgression against him.
He lowered his head into his hands, palms covering his eyes and most of his face, elbows pressed to his thighs.
“You didn’t just stop at that either,” he continued, a passive-aggressive note to his voice. Not as blatantly vicious as it had been a few minutes ago, but the malevolence was clear nonetheless.
That much struck you with uncertainty, confusion. He’d told you plenty of times how this was your fault, but normally left it at some notion that you’d essentially forced his hand by showing any semblance of kindness, not going into much more detail. You looked up at him, weakly forcing out an inquiry.
“…What… what do you mean?”
He huffed in frustration, as if your ignorance to your own wrongdoing was so glaring it was offensive.
“You just had to keep doing things for me,” he replied. “You bought me lunch when I forgot mine.”
You felt like you were doing something good, at the time. He was ever so grateful, and kept apologizing for the inconvenience.
You blinked, dumbfounded, processing the words, the treatment of the act as a wrongdoing, left in a stupor as he continued even still.
“You let me eat with you. Every day.”
He had asked once. There was no reason for you to say no. He was the one that then began showing up each day.
“You bought things for me, do you not remember that?”
You’d noticed it was well into the winter, and he kept walking in with nothing but a uniform. How you'd fretted and fussed — ah, I don't ever really buy clothes for myself, he'd said — and thus you soon ended up getting him a nice coat and a scarf for the cold. He lacked the figure in his life that would normally do so for a boy his age, after all, so you'd told yourself.
That incident itself was the first time you'd ever felt something strange about him. The way he'd stared with some unreadable, but unpleasant expression as you handed the intended gifts over. Something like confusion and pain. It had only lasted for a split second, before he smiled and thanked you, but you noticed it all the same.
One of his hands reached up to his head, pulling at his hair in frustration.
“You went out of your way to ask me how I was doing. Every day.”
His tone gradually rose in audible bitterness as he continued, fingers curling further into his hair.
“You kept asking me about my life. You kept saying all those things.”
You told him you'd seen him on the talk shows. Tried to complement it, said he was such a good speaker, told him how smart he was.
At the time, your words seemed to make his eyes lighten — just ever so slightly, any hint of reaction carefully restrained by conscious effort to maintain composure, but visible even still. You’d found he would subtly slip small mentions of achievements into conversation, like a quiet plead for praise, one more noticeable than you believed he realized.
Now, his head finally rose and turned towards you, eyes narrowing as he finished, practically in a snarl—
“I never asked for any of that.”
You winced at the harshness, shuffling your legs closer to your chest, leaning away from him.
The words themselves might have hurt in isolation from the context they were inherent to, were it simply a matter of your kindness being met with such negative reaction.
But the anger hurled your way did not erase your memories of how it all went over at the time.
You remembered the way he’d started to look in your direction as soon as he entered the building. You remembered the time you found him standing around your desk at the end of the day, when you’d left to print something off, apparently not wanting to leave without seeing you — though he must not have realized you were able to see him waiting there the whole time, since he passed it off as a coincidence you’d run into each other at the right time when you came back.
You remembered the time you told him—
I saw you on TV last night! You did a really good job out there!
The slight widening of his eyes and soft smile and so very humble reply, visibly happy nonetheless.
When he mentioned exam scores, successful cases, any sort of accomplishment — always in an off-handed, casual way, a clause wrapped within a larger sentence, as if to disguise the words themselves as inconsequential — you were more than happy to play along.
Aw, good for you, I'm proud of you.
You really are so bright.
That’s quite impressive.
One by one, every little word of praise and encouragement, every time you bit the hook of sentences that seemed to be prodding you to inquire further, the ever-so-slight effect it seemed to have — you’d thought it all so endearing.
Once again, you'd told yourself, if he didn't have the usual figure most boys his age had to tell them things like that, there was no harm in you doing what you could to substitute that, however slightly you could.
Thus, even now, whatever mess of emotions made him react so negatively, the words didn’t sting like they might have otherwise.
But the vitriol and harshness still stung. Your head hung downward. You stumbled over your words.
“I… I was just… trying to be nice, because—”
“Because you felt bad for me. Don't think I don't know that.” His gaze jerked back downwards, angled at the floor. “I didn't ask for your pity.”
You shook your head.
“I wanted you to be happy.” Your voice nearly cracked with the desperation that poured out of your chest. “I wanted to make you happy.”
Those themselves were words that would make most people pleased, you imagined — but he bristled, eyes darting downward to the ground, giving a tsk of irritation before he replied, a hissing voice filled with bitterness.
“I never asked you to do that either.”
With another huff of frustration, he propped his elbow onto his thigh again, this time resting his chin on his hand, keeping his gaze to the television. Not really watching or absorbing it, of course, but it was something to look at that wasn’t you, something that kept him from having to meet your eyes. You watched the colors bounce off his skin, illuminating his scowl.
“…But you just had to go and do it anyway, didn't you.”
As if that kindness were a crime, a transgression. Some wrongdoing you'd committed, for which penance was due.
His head tilted forward further, his fingers curled against his face, nails digging into the flesh.
“Then one day you just casually say you’re switching jobs and moving away like you’re talking about the goddamn weather.”
His expression contorted with vitriol. He spoke through clenched teeth, a voice so quiet you could hear the breath within it more than the words themselves.
“What makes you think you can just walk away after all of that?"
And then, his eyes closed. He let out a quiet, heavy sigh — this time not a short one of frustration, but a slow exhale, his body shuddering with the release of whatever tension it relieved.
"...I'm sorry..."
They were the only words you could summon. There were no other words that could properly address the blame being cast upon you, and anything else would be futile anyway.
Thankfully, that time your apology wasn't met with snapping anger, instead a callous sigh.
“...I suppose it was unreasonable to expect you to consider anyone but yourself.” There was an unmistakable passive-aggression to his tone. “Even now, you had every intention to get me locked away for the rest of my life, when I've done everything in my power to improve your quality of life here."
“No, no, I wasn't.” You shook your head, panic resurging at such an accusation, however accurate it may be.
“Obviously you—”
“I wasn’t going to do that.”
You forced the words out, forcing as firm of a tone as you could manage, fighting against your nerves.
It wasn’t often that you interrupted him. Which clearly came as a shock to him as well — you saw him slowly lift his head, eyebrows raised as his gaze turned towards you, so taken off-guard that he didn’t even respond with immediate offense as you might have expected.
Your gaze met his. The still-running glow of the silent television screen cast an overlay of shifting color onto the whites of his eyes.
The foreboding look that formed over his face made you look down, unable to keep eye contact, but you squeezed your eyes shut as you forced the words out regardless. You had already dug whatever grave you were going to lie in, there was no point in backing down.
But it was merely a passing second — by the time the colors reflected on the sides of his eyes had shifted with the change of screen, his eyes darkened, his expression grew solemn.
“I just wanted fresh air,” you continued, “to walk around.”
You hoped it wasn’t as obvious of a lie as it felt.
“I— I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you,” you continued. “I wasn’t going to. It’s, it’s just…”
You shook your head, eyes watering. Your hands curled up into fists against your thighs.
“People weren’t made to live like this.”
A long silence followed. Seconds ticked by. You stared down at the sheets, vision blurred by tears. There was a lump in your throat, you swallowed and fought the urge to break down. That would accomplish nothing.
At least a minute had passed before he finally responded.
“You think I don't know that?”
The words were cold and blunt. As if you’d said the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. There was some degree of sadness within how quietly they were spoken, perhaps even remorse, but it was clear and unyielding.
And within that response was an unspoken statement in and of itself — that no amount of appealing to any inhumanity of your situation was going to change it.
Your jaw clenched. You swallowed before you continued.
“Then… then you have to realize this can’t last forever.”
“…”
The silence made your gut twist on itself, but desperation pushed you further.
“It, it doesn’t have to be by myself, o-or for forever, I mean, you can come with me, we can go walk outside…”
“I thought I told you to stop asking.”
You winced, but the words only made fury race through your heart. Against your better judgement, pure emotion overcame you, and your voice began to raise.
“I-I know! But you just said—”
“It doesn't matter.”
He spoke that time through clenched teeth. A warning tone.
“At some point you have to—”
“Shut up.”
Something in you broke. Your trepidation of your words, the fear of upsetting him — none of it mattered. You had nothing to lose.
“At some point you have to let me GO!”
No sooner had the word left your throat, than his hand slammed down on it.
Your vision blurred with rapid motion as his body lunged for yours, as your back hit the mattress. You instinctively put your forearms to the surface in an attempt to push yourself up, but within a mere moment, he was on top of you, weight slamming you back down.
There was a sharp sting of soreness — his hands fit perfectly against the ring of bruise you perpetually sported around your neck, a testament to the frequency of these very moments, the nature of the way things were within the small space cut off from the outside.
“I said shut up.”
His hand squeezed down hard. Reflexively, your body jerked forward, but he easily shoved you back down again, far superior strength making any struggle futile.
The grip on your throat and the fear pounding in your chest made your eyes blur with tears. Reflexively, perhaps against better judgement, your hands shot up to grab onto his, fingernails digging into his flesh.
His face loomed over you, shadows cast all around. You could still see his narrowed eyes, illuminated by the screen’s light, staring down at you, cold and angered.
His breaths were ragged, labored. He spoke through clenched teeth.
“And you know what?”
His shoulders heaved with the depth of his breaths as he paused.
“I know you knew.”
His nose scrunched with the expression of disdain.
“You’re not stupid. You knew what you were doing to me.”
The words made a knot form in your stomach.
You heard him swallow, felt his hand tremble against you, be it in fury or pain, you weren't certain.
“You made me act like an idiot every time I saw you. You couldn’t have not known.”
That much was true.
It was never as obvious at it would have been with any other boy his age — most were not as guarded as him, would not have put in the effort to always seems so nonchalant as he did, would not have held themselves back from their own enthusiasm and eagerness in the way you sensed he did.
But it was obvious nonetheless, over time. The double-texts, the lingering by your desk, the split-seconds facial expressions of joy and disappointment he’d make before correcting them to the pleasant neutrality of the perpetual mask forced on him by the public eye — but every now and then, it slipped nonetheless.
But that was normal. A common thing in a young man that age.
It was fleeting, you'd thought. It was innocent. It was harmless. It wasn't anything to take seriously. You weren't encouraging it, just being kind. It wasn't as if you didn't appreciate him.
Nothing bad could come of it.
The tightening grip pulled you out of your reflection on your actions. His breaths came out heavy, labored.
“And you didn’t stop me from coming to you. You could have told me not to.”
His eyes bore into yours, a sharp and intense stare, locked together. To look into his eyes and all the fury and contempt they contained made your chest feel tight, made your skin feel cold, sent a chill running through your blood and you wanted so so so badly to look away, yet found your own eyes fixed on his, unable to look away even if you tried, as if his eyes held onto yours in the way his hand held onto your neck.
The corner of his mouth twitched. His grip grew tighter, cutting off your airways entirely. You stiffened, and began to struggle. Your eyes squeezed nearly shut. You squirmed against his hold, but his hands did not relent.
His words were cold, bitter.
“You never said ‘stop.’”
His grip grew tighter.
“You never said ‘no.’”
It felt like it would crush your throat.
“You could have. I would have listened.”
His voice turned low and dark.
“But you didn't.”
Your heart pounded against your chest as your panic turned to desperation, as you realized his grip wouldn’t relent.
“You made it worse. You made me keep coming back.”
His shoulders shifted forward with the force of his grip.
“You chose this—”
His eye twitched.
“—every goddamn step of the way.”
The fear that ran through your blood pushed aside your concern that a reaction would just make it worse, instinct taking over the forefront of your processing.
“Goro—”
Your voice came out as a choked gargle. You clawed at his hand. He huffed in frustration.
“Stop moving, you—”
He cut off as his eyes settled over your form. Your spine turned with your squirming attempts to free yourself. Tears leaked out of your eyes and streamed down your face. Your struggles pulled your thin clothing tight against your form, your body writhing, back arching.
His expression shifted, his mouth pulled taut.
You saw his chest rise and fall with heaving breaths. His head tilted downward towards his body.
“…”
His hand released your throat. You gasped in cold air, body heaving with deep breaths and sputtering coughs, slumping down as relief washed over your body, reaching up to rest your fingers on your throat, wincing at the sting of each breath.
You could hear his heavy, panting breaths.
And then, he leaned forward again, hands grasping at your waist, pulling you closer.
It wasn't difficult to remove what was left between you — only a single layer of clothing each. You didn't have anything beneath the outer layers of clothing — it made things easier, you supposed, that way.
Nonetheless, you felt his fingers hook under the waistband around your hips, jerking downward. In one swift motion, your shirt was pulled upward too, breasts spilling out from underneath.
You laid still, tensing, shifting, but not outright fighting, largely because such resistance would only make things far worse.
And in part because — even now, in spite of everything — the thought of hurting him brought an ache of guilt to your chest.
Still, out of reflex, you found yourself shuffling backwards, elbows pressing to the mattress to pull you back, overwhelmed by the sudden shift of atmosphere and rapid pace of action.
“Ah, wait—”
Without even the slightest semblance of gentleness, his hand shoved you back down, flat onto your back.
“Hold still.” His voice was blunt, but not as strongly laced with emotion as it had been moments prior, too distracted by his current task.
The rumpled mound of blankets and sheets cast more shadow over the lower half of his body, but you could make out his other hand moving, hear the faint sound of fabric shifting against skin. You heard a string of repetitive curses come out of his mouth, faint whispers hissed out in a tone of irritation, as if angered by the urges themselves.
With another harsh jerk to pull you closer, he leaned his body downward, burying his face against the crook of your neck. That, too, was routine, expected, something he always did. He never let you see his face, could never look you in the eye throughout. Maybe it was a craving for physical closeness, maybe it was a loathing of vulnerability that the connection of your gazes would bring, maybe both.
You closed your eyes.
It burned. You were too tense, it was too sudden. The friction on such sensitive skin made you inhale a sharp gasp.
You felt him shudder against you, heard it in the way he exhaled, breath hot on your skin.
His hands grasped at your waist, pulling your body forward and, consequently, further impaling you on himself.
The positioning of his head brought his mouth close to your ear, letting you hear each ragged, labored breath, a brief soft muttering so slurred you couldn’t make it out, despite the proximity.
Your hand reached up, resting on the back of his neck. Even now, in spite of everything, the bruises scattered across your skin and the sore sting on your throat and the greyness of the walls that tormented you day in and day out as you struggled to recall how many days had passed since you’d been anywhere else —
— you couldn’t bring yourself to be anything but gentle.
He, on the other hand, was anything but.
Rather than a rolling motion, his hips merely slammed into your body back and forth, the movement intense, quick and harsh, driven by emotion and frustration.
Still, with each movement, he rubbed against your insides in such a way that made pleasure jolt through your body.
And it grew faster, faster, more forceful. The creaking of the bed grew harsher, an aggressive motion that lurched your body back with each movement, only for his hands to jerk your body back close to his, fingernails digging into your flesh.
You could melt into it — at this point, it was a mastered skill, letting go of any fear or despair and succumbing only to the feeling within you flesh, primal and simple, a sensation that existed outside of circumstance and emotion.
A warm pressure that built and built higher and higher, made you clench down on him, made you arch your back, made noises spill from your mouth that in turn made him move even harsher still.
You found your arms wrapping themselves around his back, clinging to him tightly. The only thing you had left, the only person that existed in a world that was otherwise dull and dark and filled with nothingness.
You supposed that was the point, what he wanted to be. The only thing of substance allowed to exist in your world, everything else pushed back and out behind that door, locked away just beyond your reach.
He brought his head up just enough to speak more directly to your face, but his hair still obscured any sight of his face you might have otherwise had, a harsh whisper through labored breaths.
“You thought you could just get away with it all?”
He jerked his hips forward again, so harshly you gasped, your back arched.
You gasped at the sensation, sputtering out whatever words came to your mind in the haze of sensation and intensity.
“No, I didn't — I, I never meant to— I wasn't trying to—”
“Shut up.” He snapped back at you through clenched teeth. “You knew from the beginning you'd leave eventually. You didn't care how it affected me.”
His fingernails sank into your waist.
“It never meant anything to you.”
Your bottom lip trembled, a sore lump in your throat threatening to break you apart even as fluttering sensation shot through your nerves, the physical sensation and emotion each heightening each other.
“I didn't think— I didn't think you'd—”
You didn’t think it meant that much. You only talked to him for a few minutes every day. To you, he was just one of many people you interacted with, and held a matching degree of significance. Something you had never explicitly told him, but you knew he’d come to understand all the same.
Tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes.
“I… I'm sorry… I never wanted to— ah!”
You gasped, your back arched as your bodies moved in such a perfect way as to make your mind go blank.
His voice became erratic, frantic, spoken between gasping breaths — just as his hips began to move faster, harsher.
“You were going to just disappear and leave.”
In the moment of pause, his ragged breaths were hot against your ear, before he finished in a snarl, snapping his hips forward so brutally the bedframe slammed into the wall—
“You don't get to do that to me.”
You tensed at the intense motion, insides spasming at the sensation, clamping down, and crying out — a filthy, wanton noise that made the heat of shame rush to your face just processing it.
In turn, no sooner had he spoken than you felt him shudder again, muttering out a quiet string of curses before lowering himself down again, body pressed tightly to yours, abandoning any efforts he might have intended to put into further words or maintaining some semblance of composure, instead giving in to the sensation and urges in full.
His hips moved against you in erratic frenzy, mercilessly harsh. His fingernails stabbed into the flesh around your hips, holding you firmly in place so that the sheer force of the movements didn't push your body off of his.
You, too, let go of any restraint — what was even the point of holding onto some semblance of dignity? — and let your mind lose itself in the sensation. Letting your mind run blank was far preferable to letting yourself be tormented by emotion any further. A freeing feeling from the cage of worry — always aware of how many days it had been, the burden of keeping track, the weight of endless wrestling with what-ifs and fantasies of possibility in both retroactive and prospective senses alike.
You let the noises pour out of your mouth, let yourself tense and spasm and wrap your legs around his waist, let yourself claw at his back. It felt as if your mind was melting.
Yes, giving in was easier. Separating yourself from the context of where you were and why and for how so very long, indulging in the relief cast by the shadow of defeat and acceptance. Regardless of the circumstances that led you here, and throwing aside the soul-crushing question of your hopes of a future that haunted your every waking moment, this moment was here and now and real, something you could feel and savor.
You let the sensation turn to pleasure and pain that blurred together, eyes closed, listening to the sync of the sound of the mattress shifting with the sparks of sensation running up your spine. You let that feeling bring you up, up, higher and higher, peaking as you pulled him as close to you as you could manage, sounds from your throat coming out high-pitched and needy.
Only mere moments later, before you could even come down from the dissociative feeling of fog over your mind, you vaguely felt him come to a halt, heard him suck in a sharp breath between clenched teeth.
There was a heavy silence that hung over the air, broken only by each other’s heavy, panting breaths.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, he lowered himself down, moving to your side, hair still veiling his face from your view, before eventually letting his weight fall the rest of the way in a sudden collapse, causing the mattress to shift. Without any conscious thought to do so, you found yourself turning onto your side to accommodate it, so that you faced each other.
And once again, you lay in quiet, broken by your labored breaths, each exhale tangible on the other’s skin.
Your sweat made the sheets cling to your body.
He was so close, but even still, waited, hesitant, depending on your initiation.
Thus, instinctively, you wrapped your arm around him, slowly, cautiously. Your arm wrapped around his back, pulling his body forward into place against yours.
Slowly, you felt his hand reach up to your arm, just below your shoulder, fingers wrapping around it with only the faintest of touches.
His head came to rest at your chest once again, forehead settling on the spot between your breasts. His hand’s grip on your arm grew tight.
And you felt him shiver against you. A continuous, soft shaking, like someone freezing in the cold. There was something about the feeling that spread into you, something that poured from his body into yours.
He felt so much bigger and stronger when he was on top of you, those times where he held your wrists above your head, the times he’d grabbed you and drug you around like a ragdoll across the little apartment — and now, he felt almost small, in your arms. Fragile, as if he would shatter apart like glass, should you hold him too tightly.
Some time passed. Your eyes closed at some point, but you could still see the shifting colors behind your eyelids, light shining through. Your body slowly relaxed from all the tension.
You could feel his heart beating against your hand resting on his back, perfectly in sync with your own, which you felt in the form of the throbbing around your neck.
And in that stillness, you felt some sense of peace. As if everything were inconsequential, all your anguish melting. As if you were merely normal lovers in a state of post-coital exhaustion after a long day.
Part of you wanted to lean into it, to let yourself slip into that illusion. It was comforting and warm, and the burden of awareness of the reality of your situation was so, so heavy. You were tired of its weight.
But something else weighed on your mind, holding you back from the brink of exhaustion. And without conscious intent, that something slipped out from your lips.
“Do you wish I hadn't?”
Your throat stung to speak, the words came out in a scratchy voice, but nonetheless so quiet that he would not have even heard you had he not been pressed against you.
There was a long pause. He turned his head upward, slowly, exhaustion visible in such a small movement. Not even enough to look you in the eye, just enough to acknowledge your words.
“…What?”
You swallowed.
“Do you wish… I had never talked to you? That I hadn’t… done all of those things?”
The quiet that followed felt like a weight pressed to your chest. You felt the vulnerable softness of comfort leave his body, replaced by a tenseness that wasn’t there moments prior.
His head lowered back to its former position, and the room fell to silence again, seconds ticking by. When he finally replied, it was a cold, blunt tone, as if you’d asked a simple, obvious question.
“I never said that.”
You didn't have the energy to feel frustrated. You had long since accepted that there was no way to win. The absurdity of his response in light of it all barely fazed you. If anything, it felt like the response you'd anticipate, perfectly in line with how you knew him to be.
You wrapped your arms around him tighter.
Your bodies pressed together, tender and intimate and comforting, and in spite of everything, you let yourself savor the goodness of the feeling of it. You felt the tension slowly leave his body as well, it felt as if he melted against your touch.
You began to drift off, mind lulled by the colors behind your eyelids. Some time passed.
And then he moved.
Your eyes opened, groggily returning to awareness and clarity — and some degree of concern, never certain what he would do at any given moment — and you watched as he pulled himself out of your grasp, quickly pivoting to the side of the bed to stand.
You slowly sat upright, shirt falling back down to at least cover your upper half, tilting your head in curiosity as you waited to see what he'd gotten up for.
Without a word, he moved back towards the counter at the front of the small apartment, reaching out for the plastic bag he'd set down when he came in. His footsteps were heavy, lazily dragging against the floor as he brought it back, one plastic container in each hand. He extended one out to you.
“It’s past our normal eating time.”
His voice had returned to a perfectly normal tone, not tired nor bitter nor angry, the tone he used when everything was fine, a tone that set you at ease. As off-putting and surprising as it was, you didn't question the pleasant change, merely taking it from his hands, opening the box and little paper-wrapped utensils, only pausing to sheepishly, hurriedly put your clothes back on.
Your hand still shivered as you forced food into your mouth.
You'd had this before plenty of times. You assumed it was conveniently on his route home. He always got one particular order for you. You didn't hate it, but it wasn't your preference, not that you ever stated so, wanting to avoid any risk of negativity.
It wasn't the same thing he got for himself, either. That, too, had become part of your routine. He made very specific assumptions of what you wanted when it came to flavors, colors, and so on.
You became acutely aware of the sensation of the shirt that still clung to your body, how your hair brushed against your skin where it fell at the exact length he’d insisted on keeping it.
Much like those things, you preferred not thinking about where the assumptions came from.
You brought a few bites to your mouth, each of you eating in silence. In the absence of other stimulus, your eyes trailed back over to the screen.
Enough time had passed that he was no longer one of the figures on the television screen — but the subject matter appeared to still be the same as it always was, for the past few months. Yet another accident, the same circumstances as usual.
You saw him lift his head up, following your line of vision, then scowling at the screen — but as the only source of light, he didn't turn it off.
“You should be careful.”
Your words turned his head back towards you, eyebrows raising in an expression prompting you to continue. You looked down.
“All those people they show lately... going crazy and getting tons of people hurt. You're known to the public, so… just be sure to be cautious, you know.”
You couldn't articulate the look on his features. He paused, blinking a few times at you, eyebrows ever so slightly furrowed, before turning his gaze back down.
“I'll be fine.”
You turned your gaze back to your food as well — but not before your eyes briefly drifted over to the door once more. You felt a chill run down your spine as the far-too-recent memory of electrocution flashed through your mind, and with it, the humiliation of it all settled heavy on your chest.
You closed your eyes and swallowed, trying to rid yourself of the lump in your throat as the urge to break down threatened to take over you again, and dulled your mind, letting it fall to blank nothingness but the task of finishing your food.
You turned your head and looked at the soft-featured young man. His face — the mask of the public persona still off, now in a different way than mere anger, but a sort of quiet, barely-noticeable sheepishness that followed such outbursts, distinguishable by a faint frown, ever-so-slightly furrowed brows, an avoidance of looking upward — felt so innocent, almost endearing.
You didn't realize you were staring until he finally looked up, having sensed the feeling of your gaze. He blinked.
“Is something wrong?”
Asked in such a gentle, pleasant tone. Nonchalant, ignoring the bruises on your body, ignoring the band still latched around your neck. It was so easy to believe nothing had happened.
Your eyes shifted away from him, briefly trailing around the room — to the cordless lamps and flat door handles and locks on all the drawers and the spot on the ceiling where the fan had been gouged out and caulked over.
And likewise, you shook your head and resumed picking at your food, deciding for your own sake that that none of it was of any consequence. That was a far less painful way to think about it all anyway.
“No, nothing.”
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gassymasky · 3 days ago
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The Gladiator: Part 2 (18+) Warnings: Rough sex, gay, power dynamic, alluding to punishment, angry sex
I sighed as Maximinus tried, once again, to tempt me into sleeping with him. The prince, noticing my lack of reaction, smirked and decided to step it up a notch.
"Fine," Maximinus says as he undresses. "I hope you don't mind if I join you. It's oh so hot outside." He slips into the bath and he obviously sat next to me. Brushing his pristine, smooth skin against my tan and scarred body.
I could already see he was hard through my Murmillo helmet. The prince, noticing my wondering eye, licked his lips as he went to pour the wine. Making sure to bend over wiggle his hips to show off his plump ass for good measure. He felt that if he just kept teasing he'd soon have me in his grasp.
"I do hope your thirsty," he says as he sit back down and hands me a goblet of wine. "It's from my personal collection. Now why don't you take off that stuffy helmet?"
As he reached for my helmet I gripped his wrist. Maximinus grinned at my reaction. He always knew how to push my buttons.
"Aw come one?" He teased in a sultry voice. "If you continue wearing this I might never see that pretty face." A wrestling match insues as he tries to wrestle my helmet from my head. If it were anyone else I would've killed him but this was the prince. Doing that would only serve to have ME killed.
Maximinus took the chance to rub against my body to distract me before getting a good grip on my helmet.
"Let go," I growl from under my helmet. "You first," the prince teases.
Eventually he manged to pry my helmet off and sending him falling into the water. As he stood back up and wipes the water from his face he sees it. My face.
From my shoulder length black hair to my shimmering blue eyes. My sharp features and stubble gives me a rugged beauty. A scar runs from my right cheekbone down to my chin. All this, combined with my tan muscle, made Maximinus lick his lips.
"Well," his voice low and sultry. "I hoped you be handsome but you've exceeded any standard I had. Now," with that he bends over the edge of the bath and wiggles his hips. "How about you please your prince, wouldn't wanna punish you now would we?"
In the anger and frustration of having my helemt ripped off I decide to give him what he wants. Grabbing his hips roughly before thrusting into him.
"Fuck!" Maximinus cries in pain and pleasure but I don't give him time to adjust. My thrusts snap forward roughly and slam against his prostate as I spank him.
"You like that?" My voice rough with anger and lust. "You like having my dick reshaping your slutty boypussy don't you?"
Maximinus couldn't respond as moans and whines stop him from speaking. The pleasure making it impossible to form a coherent thought let along string together a sentence. I chuckle at this as I rain spanks down on him. One of my hand shoot up and entangle in his hair to pull him back roughly.
This snaps him from his haze and he begins begging. "More, more," his breathy moans fueling me on. "Ruin me my champion! Claim me as your prize!"
My thrusts grow more erratic as my shaft throbs. The prince, noticing I'm about to cum, pushes his ass further into my thrust. With a final, hard thrust I flood his ass with my semen. I growl deeply as he whines.
After a bit I pull out of him and sit back in the tub. I watch as Maximinus reaches down and scoops some cum from his gaping hole and licked it up.
"Not bad," his voice hoarse and breathy from the pleasure. "We'll be doing this a lot more often."
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cetoddle-archive · 1 year ago
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does anyone wanna hear about the dream i had last night huh huh
#uhm cw body horror and like. excessive violence ahead#honestly i'd forgotten abt it until i saw the post i made mentioning it again💀#i wanna talk abt it cause it was CRAZY#but i'm not lying when i say it was visceral and graphic and grosss so so gross#i don't remember it as well now cause like i said i'm kinda used to this shit so it doesn't weigh heavy on my mind or anything#but my dreams have been so VIVID lately so it was just kinda jarring#anyways#it was like. i was watching a movie?#except i didn't like explicitly feel like i was in the dream but like. if my soul was kinda just kicking it watching a movie with someone#if that makes sense#idk who i was with i think it was a just a general person tm#and the movie was like. a group of girls who had to get something to complete some kind of mission? like they needed something to finish a#goal idkthat part wasn't rlly the most memorable thing to me#what WAS memorable was that they killed a man. specifically:#one girl like had her legs wrapped around his neck while suffocating him with a clear plastic bag. so u could see it fog up and him scream#and stuff. and then they ripped off the skin on his chest and stomach? like they skinned him alive ? while he was being suffocated#idk where my brain gets this stuff#anyways. they weren't even skinning him with something sharp. they held something dull to him so hard and pressed and pulled so hard that i#just up and ripped the skin and some muscle off#i guess they needed the skin and muscle for something. and like he fell unconsious and bled out on the floor with the blood splattered bag#on his head still. rip guy#and the girls were covered in blood but kinda just continued their business. and were like observing the skin and muscle#like it was all bloody and the muscle strings and fiber and stuff..idk i'm not a doctor#and then one of the girls ate some of the muscle idk why she did that#and then they went to give the shit to wherever they were taking it for whatever reason. but the worst part to me was that whoever i was#watching the movie with was rlly upset and said#'this is just so upsetting because there was no reason for him to suffer and die like that'#and then i woke up!#so i think i'm unwell! or that i'm not taking to my new meds very well#who's to say
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plutotheplum · 3 months ago
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Close to You
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sylus x fem!reader
summary: a sleepy morning with sylus results in unravelled feelings.
cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, friends with benefits to lovers, smut, fluff, oral sex, vaginal fingering, mutual masturbation, face-sitting, p in v, handjob, dom/sub undertones, aftercare
wc: 4.9k
a/n: i fear i am obsessed with the man
also on ao3!
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It’s wonderfully warm.
That’s what you think when you begin to stir, eyes blinking open blearily as soft rays of sunlight pour into the room, having snuck through the gaps in the curtains. A yawn escapes you and you squirm under the blankets, pressing your face back into the warmth of Sylus’ chest.
His arms tighten around you and a smile tugs at your lips, legs tangling with his.
“Morning,” he rasps, his voice deeper than usual, laced with the remnants of sleep.
“Morning,” you whisper back, lips pressing against his chest in a soft kiss.
Sylus cups the back of your head, his large hand stroking over your hair gently and you sigh, letting your eyes slip back shut.
He’d stopped by last night, said he had some information about a group of abnormally acting Wanderers. One thing had led to another however, and you’d let him stay the night, his body pressed up against yours. 
“Stay,” he grumbles when he feels you try to pull away, his face burying into your hair.
“I have work,” you murmur back, twisting your head to glance at the clock beside your bed. 
The glowing numbers tell you that you’ve slept in, and you groan, slumping back down as you realize you were most definitely going to be late.
“Call in sick,” Sylus replies, his hands squeezing at your waist.
You want to deny him, but Sylus knows you better than you know yourself. You can never find it in yourself to truly resist him, not when he pets across your body so soothingly anyways. You just hope it doesn’t turn into a repetitive occurrence, it’s not like you can keep missing work whenever you feel like being wrapped up in his arms to make out with him lazily.
Reaching for your phone, you write out a quick text, sending it to Jenna to tell her you’d come down with a sudden fever. You can feel Sylus’ lips on your forehead beginning to drift and you tilt your head, letting him land a kiss to your cheek as he caresses your hip.
“You’re a bad influence,” you whisper, feeling his hand creep up under his shirt that you’re wearing.
“Maybe so,” Sylus says, shooting you a smile.
You bite your lip when his thumb swipes the underside of your breast, his calloused fingers spreading across the skin of your breast before finding your nipple. His red eyes bore into yours and you don’t let your gaze slip away, mouth opening to let a soft moan spill out as he tugs and pinches at your nipple.
“You look so pretty like this, sweetie,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours.
Sylus doesn’t kiss you and you don’t make any move to kiss him either. It’s what makes the push and pull between you and Sylus so rewarding, he riles you up and you rile him up until one of you snaps. It’s what you’d done last night anyways, bent over the arm of the couch in a short skirt with your ass in the air, pink panties bared to his eyes as you’d grabbed the tv remote that you had accidentally dropped. 
Too bad your panties hadn’t survived the onslaught of his hungry mouth, his fingers getting impatient until he’d ripped the flimsy fabric off of you and fucked you right there in your skirt. 
The feeling of his mouth on your neck draws you out of your thoughts, letting him play with your breasts as he trails hot kisses down your skin. Your arms loop around his neck, fingers splaying across his broad back. You can feel his muscles flex as he moves his arm, both of you panting softly as he gropes at the fat of your breasts.
“Ask for it, baby,” Sylus whispers, rolling the hardened nub between his fingers.
You shake your head, gritting your teeth when you feel him roll his hips against your side, the feeling of his half-hard cock making arousal pool between your thighs.
“No,” you pant out, biting your lip as your back arches, “you ask for it.”
Sylus lets out a low laugh, nosing against your cheek as he presses another kiss to your skin. “You know I’m not one to beg.”
“First time for everything,” you retort, pressing your breast into his warm palm firmly, fingers trailing down his bare chest.
A smile spreads across your face when his cheeks flush, your hand drifting lower and lower until your hand presses against the hot bulge of his cock through his thin pajama pants. Sylus groans at the feeling of your hand and you wrap it around his heavy length, now fully hardened.
“So hard for me,” you coo, batting your eyelashes up at him as you drag your hand up and down. The hitch of his breath is welcome and has you feeling bolder, tongue licking across his sternum.
“Dirty, little whore,” Sylus hisses, his fingers digging into your side as you hook your leg over his hip and press yourself closer. “Always pushing me, aren’t you?”
You grin, letting him roll his hips into your hand as you kiss across his chest, the sound of your lips on his skin emanating through the room. Sylus grabs at your ass, pulling you up so that you're settled on his lap, your knees bracketing his hips.
“Look good like this,” you murmur breathlessly, palming at his cock a little more.
The imprint of his cock is clear, pre-cum causing a dark spot to appear on the fabric. Your fingers trail over his length, eyes entranced as you watch it twitch under your touch. His fingers grasp at the shirt, pushing it up and feeding the fabric into your mouth. Half-lidded eyes stare down at him, the hem of the shirt bitten between your teeth.
“Pretty baby,” Sylus whispers, his gaze trailing over your exposed breasts and stomach, down to where a pair of white panties sit snug on your hips. You hope he won’t rip them, but his fingers grasp at the material, pulling up and a sharp gasp leaves you, your panties digging into your cunt deliciously. “Greedy pussy, hm? Can feel you dripping all over my cock.”
You send him a glare, shirt falling back down to cover your body from his wandering eyes.
“You’re annoying,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.
Sylus only grins and tries to pull the shirt back up again, but you swat his hand away and stay seated on his lap stubbornly. He clicks his tongue, red eyes darkening at your challenge. 
“Stop being a brat,” he warns, fingers tapping against your thighs.
“Or what?” you reply, raising your brows. You give him an innocent look, letting your lower lip jut out into a pout. 
“Or I’ll fuck you until you-”
You don’t give him a chance to finish, crawling up his body. Sylus’ eyes widen for a moment, confusion flitting across his face until he realizes what you’re doing. Your clothed cunt settles onto his mouth and he groans, nosing at your panties to breathe you in.
“Much better when you don’t speak,” you sigh, running your fingers through his snowy hair.
You’ll have to pay for your boldness later, but you don’t care, biting your lip as you roll your hips against his face. Sylus licks at you through your panties, his hands coming up to grab at your thighs and squeeze at the fat.
“Just like that,” you whisper, head tipping back as he sucks at your slick through the fabric of your panties. 
Your hips roll and rock as you please, fingers gripping his hair. Sylus moves your panties to the side before long and you gasp, body doubling over as he licks across your bare cunt.
“Oh- oh fuck!” you mewl, writhing atop his mouth when he thumbs apart your folds to spit on your pussy.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Sylus rasps, his fingers gripping your thighs a bit firmer to push you onto his mouth again.
His tongue glides through your folds a few times, flicks at your clit lazily and kisses the swollen little bud gently before he tugs your weight down onto his face fully. A loud squeal leaves you and you think you’ve bitten off more than you can chew, seeing stars behind your eyelids as he eats you out hungrily.
“Sy- Sylus!” His name sounds in a wail, and he simply grunts into your cunt, fingers dimpling into the fat of your ass as he slurps and sucks like a man starved. 
The sounds of his mouth on your cunt are horribly lewd, and your fingers don’t know where to latch onto, alternating between tugging on his hair and grasping at the rumpled sheets beside his head. Mindless chants escape you, wet pussy rubbing against his face unabashedly and across his tongue as he holds it there for you to grind against.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper, your hand landing over his as he pushes the shirt up to grip one your tits. 
He squeezes roughly and you moan, grabbing his wrist to guide his hand higher, closing your mouth around his fingers. You suck desperately, tongue swirling and eyes slipping shut as your hands curl around his wrist and forearm tightly. Sylus groans into your pussy again and your hazy eyes peer down to find his crimson ones staring right back at you.
A drunken smile spreads across your face and you lick at the pads of his fingers before kissing them. His eyes narrow and you moan when he spanks your ass at your display of blatant brattiness. It does little to deter you, mouth sucking his fingers in deeper until he spanks you again and sucks your clit into his mouth harshly. 
You come with a cry, body shaking and thighs trembling. Sylus moves you off of him and you mumble out an apology for suffocating him, slumping against the bed as he pulls you into his chest and kisses your forehead.
It’s a little too intimate for what you two are to each other, but you’re secretly grateful for the bits of affection he gives you. Sylus doesn’t need to know that you’re starved of it, although you think he might’ve picked up on it with how clingy you’ve become, insisting that it was okay for him to stay the night only a few weeks after you two had first slept together. 
“That was nice,” you slur softly, droopy eyes peering up into his.
Sylus huffs out a laugh, his hands petting at your sides. “I’m sure it was.”
Your slick glistens over his mouth and his chin and you sit up, tugging his shirt over your head and handing it to him. Sylus uses it to wipe his mouth and tosses it behind him, the fabric landing on the floor of your bedroom.
“Think I deserve a kiss for all that,” Sylus says, his nose nudging against yours.
You nod your assent, tits squished up against his firm chest as his lips meet yours. Sylus kisses you messily, tongue slipping into your mouth almost immediately so you can taste yourself on his tongue. A soft whine leaves you, returning his kisses with just as much fervor as you let your hand drift down, dipping into his pajama pants to grasp his hard cock.
His hips buck into your hand at the feeling and you smile against his lips, slowing the kiss to something more languid and lazy as you drag your hand up and down his throbbing cock. 
“Hand feels so fuckin’ good, baby” Sylus sighs against your lips.
You hum, tilting your head to kiss his cheek and then his jaw. Pre-cum wets your hand, the slick noises of his cock filling the room as you stroke his cock for him. Sylus moans into your mouth, his hands unable to stop touching you as he grips the fat of your ass and then your hips.
“‘m sensitive,” you whine when his hand slips between your thighs, the pads of his fingers rubbing over your clit.
“You can take it,” he whispers back, kissing you again as he slips two fingers inside of you.
You’re both panting again, meeting each other’s kisses with the same passion. His cock throbs in your hand and Sylus lets out a low moan when you tighten your fingers around him and let your thumb brush over his leaky tip.
“How cute,” you tease when you see the tips of his ears flush pink, his eyes half-lidded and chest rising and falling at an increasing pace as you twist your wrist and move your hand a little faster.
“You’re going to regret this,” Sylus replies hoarsely, his face tucking into the crook of your neck as he fucks his cock into your hand. 
A half-laugh, half-moan escapes you when he curls his fingers inside of you, quickening the pace of his fingers as he fucks them in and out of you. Your other hand joins the mix, cupping his heavy balls. Sylus lets out a strained moan, his hips thrusting harder into the heat of your hand as you play with his balls, massaging and caressing  them.
It’s a stark change from how he usually acts. Sylus is just as needy as you, despite being the leader of an illegal faction from within the N109 Zone. At least with each other, you both get to indulge in what you want. It’s how you came to this agreement anyways, a little coaxing from Sylus and some carefully placed kisses later and you were agreeing almost immediately. 
His fingers move faster, scissoring inside of you to draw out more whiny gasps from your throat, his thumb joining to rub at your swollen clit. A whimper breaks out of you, body shuddering as you cum on his fingers, your hands stuttering as you struggle to keep them moving through the haze of your orgasm.
Sylus lets out a growly moan, shoving his face deeper into the crook of your neck as he comes. You can feel his heavy breaths of air against your neck, the rise and fall of his chest when his cum coats your fingers and smears across his abdomen. It’s hot and thick, and you whine, wanting him to kiss you again.
He lifts his head sluggishly, slots his lips over yours and kisses you until you can’t breathe. You want to wrap your arms around his neck, but your hands are covered in his cum so you pout until he pulls your wrists out from where you’ve begun to stroke him again slowly.
“Always so cockhungry,” he tuts, guiding your fingers to your face.
You smile dazedly and make a show of licking your fingers clean. Sylus groans and leans forward to capture your lips in a kiss, his hips jerking slightly when you push your tongue into his mouth, feeding him his cum.
Sylus squeezes at your waist and you press yourself closer, letting out a contented hum. He smooths his hand up and down your back, rubbing soothingly circles into your skin.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he murmurs.
You nod, arms looping around his neck as he picks you up and carries you into the bathroom. Sylus sets you down onto the countertop of the vanity, his fingers tracing over your jaw for a moment before he reaches for your toothbrush. You watch him, sated and sleepy, mouth opening for him as he presses your toothbrush against your lips. 
The action in and of itself speaks volumes for friends that are just fucking, but neither of you feel the need to address it. Your eyes slip shut as he brushes your teeth for you, his hand cupping your jaw to hold you in place. Sylus kisses your cheek, his thumb smoothing over the line of your jaw gently.
“Rinse,” Sylus says, handing you a glass of water.
You do as he says, rinsing your mouth free of toothpaste and leaning forward to land a quick peck to his lips. Sylus grins, crimson eyes flashing with amusement as he watches you hop down onto the tiled floor with trembling thighs.
“Don’t laugh!” you protest, swatting his chest.
“It’s cute,” he drawls, helping hold you steady as you reach down to pull your panties off. “You’re always like this.”
An annoyed grumble leaves you as you step into the shower, eyes catching on the red welts running down his back, courtesy of your nails during the throes of pleasure last night. 
You catch his eyes in the mirror, voice a little airy as you speak. “Red looks good on you.”
The shower door slides shut before he can respond, a small smile settling on your lips as you let your body loosen under the hot water. Sylus doesn’t join you, and secretly you’re grateful. You’d probably be tempted to have him take you under the spray of water, but your body is still sore from last night, thighs a little achy. 
You finish up quickly, a yawn leaving you as your hands grab for the towel to wrap around your wet body. You step out of the shower, squeaking when you nearly collide with Sylus’ chest. 
“Relax,” he mutters, gripping your chin and tilting your head up to kiss you.
You melt into it, lips working against his, feeling him back you up against the shower door. 
“Stop doing that,” you mumble against his lips, hands landing on his chest.
“You like it when I kiss you,” Sylus replies, his forehead resting against yours.
You do. You really do. No one’s ever kissed you like he has and you’ve never had someone display such passion towards you. It makes you feel wanted, makes you feel cared for. 
“Go shower,” you whisper, letting him kiss you one more time before you’re pushing at his chest gently, squirming out from under him. 
Sylus grunts in dissatisfaction when you escape his grasp, running his hand through his hair as he watches you leave, that little towel wrapped around your body making him want to bend you over the vanity and fuck into you until you’re creaming on his cock again. He doesn’t though, lets you go instead and steps under the shower himself. 
Another yawn leaves you, your arms stretching above your head after you get dressed, pulling on a pair of comfortable sleep shorts and an oversized shirt. Sylus has finished up in the shower by the time you’ve made coffee, his footfalls sounding through your apartment as he steps up behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist.
“I have another auction coming up,” Sylus says, his chin resting on the top of your head as you dump a spoonful of sugar into your hot beverage.
“What’s that got to do with me?” you ask, turning your head to peer up at him.
“Having a Hunter by my side would make things far easier,” he replies, squeezing at your sides, “besides, I’d have to go to all the trouble of finding a date.”
“So find one,” you retort, spinning his arms to hand him his cup of coffee, “I’m not in the mood for a repeat of what happened last time.”
“You wound me,” Sylus murmurs, his eyes boring into yours intently, “aren’t I being generous?”
You roll your eyes at his feigned hurt, although the slight furrow of his brows has you second-guessing whether he is actually hurt by your rejection. You brush the thought away, telling yourself that you're imagining things.
“No,” you say simply, shaking your head and taking a sip of your coffee.
“My black card,” Sylus counters, setting his mug of coffee down, “no limits.”
You scoff, raising your brows. “Are you trying to buy me out?”
“Hardly,” he replies, “I’m letting you buy whatever it is you desire.”
Your lips purse, eyes narrowing at the man suspiciously. You don’t why he’s being so insistent, when he most likely has access to an endless supply of women. He raises his brows and you shake your head again, refusing his offer.
Sylus’ jaw clenches, his fingers tightening into your shirt. “Why must you deny me?”
“I’m not denying you,” you say, setting your own cup of coffee down, “I just don’t want to go.”
“Is the thought of being with me that unappealing?”
“I didn’t say that!” you protest, irritation pricking at your skin.
Sylus stares down at you, his lips thinning. He’s never gotten angry at you before, and you don’t understand why he’s starting now. Another scoff leaves you when he pushes away from you suddenly, his fingers reaching for the keys to his bike.
“What is wrong with you?” you snap, stealing his keys before he gets them.
“You’ve been pushing me away,” Sylus hisses, glaring down at you.
“Pushing you away?” you echo, shaking your head, “we’ve been together since last night!”
“For a Hunter, you are infuriatingly dense,” he shoots back.
Your breath hitches when he suddenly cups your cheeks, his body drawing closer until you're trapped between him and the kitchen counter. His keys drop from your hand, landing on the floor with a clatter.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Sylus whispers, his head lowering, “I want more.”
“M- more what?” you sputter, trying to lean away from him. Sylus doesn’t let you, his forehead pressing against yours.
“More of this,” he says firmly, “more of you, more of us.”
You blink up at him, words getting stuck in your throat. In hindsight, your intuition was right. Sylus cups the back of your head, drawing you into a kiss. It’s hungry and all-consuming, a soft mewl spilling from your mouth as he smooths his thumb over your cheek gently.
“Let me have you,” Sylus whispers.
“I didn’t take you for a romantic,” you mutter weakly.
Sylus rolls his eyes, hands finding the backs of your thighs as he scoops you up into his arms.
“My- my coffee!” you whine.
“Forget about the stupid coffee,” Sylus dismisses, dumping you onto your bed before crawling over you, his hips settling between your thighs.
Your eyes widen, his actions tugging at your heart uncomfortably as he smooths his hands over your hair, cradling your head as he lands soft kisses across the expanse of your face.
“Oh,” you whisper, eyes fluttering shut, “you like me. You like me a lot.”
“Should’ve been obvious,” Sylus grumbles, his face pressing into the crook of your neck petulantly. 
There’s no more teasing when he rolls his hips, an airy gasp escaping you as he grinds his hard cock into you. Sylus reaches for your hands, pinning them on either side of your head, his fingers lacing with yours. 
“I need this,” he murmurs, “I need you.”
“You- ah- you have me.”
“Not yet,” Sylus whispers.
You watch with half-lidded eyes as he draws back and pulls your shorts down your legs. Sylus frees his cock from his sweatpants, shuffling forward until he places his cock snug between your folds.
“Watch,” he orders, squeezing your hip.
You do watch. You watch with your lower lip bitten, fighting the urge to let your head tip back as he rubs his cock along your folds, the flushed tip of it disappearing before appearing again. The head of his cock nudges against your clit, his pre-cum beginning to drip in fat globs already, coating the swollen bud.
His fingers find yours again, body moving atop yours as he continues to grind his fat cock against your pussy. 
“Could have this cock everyday,” Sylus says, squeezing your hands. “Hm? Doesn’t that sound good? I’ll fuck you nice and slow then cuddle you after. All you have to do is be a good girl and ask.”
“Y-yes,” you whimper, hips bucking to try and get his cock to slip inside your achy hole, “Sylus, please.”
“Tell me, baby,” he coaxes, his lips brushing your jaw.
“I- I want you,” you gasp out, eyes wide and earnest, “so please, please stay with me.”
“Good girl,” Sylus praises, his hand gripping the base of his cock.
You whine when he presses the head of it into you, the rest of his fat length following as he sinks into you, inch after inch. It’s different than before, somehow you’re acutely aware of how his body feels on yours, how his cock is stuffing you full.
He kisses your forehead, his eyes never straying from yours as he holds your hands again. Your legs lock around him immediately, mouth falling open as he begins to fuck into you slowly.
“This cock is all yours,” Sylus groans, “I’m all yours, baby.”
“Then- hah- then don’t leave,” you manage out breathlessly, “o-okay, Sylus?”
“Not going anywhere,” the white-haired man affirms.
Sylus kisses you deeply and fucks you slowly, making sure you feel every ridge on his cock as he slides through your clenching walls. Soft moans fill the air, both of you unraveling under each other’s touch. You let go of his hands in favor of wrapping your arms around his neck, kissing his forehead and letting him tuck his face back into the crook of your neck.
His thumb rubs at your puffy clit and you’re seizing up, back arching as your body draws taut.
“Ha- nngh! ‘m gonna- fuck- ‘m gonna cum!” you cry, fisting his hair in your hand and pulling hard.
Sylus hisses at the feeling, his mouth closing around your tit, sucking your nipple into his mouth. You can feel his thumb press against your clit a little harder, his balls slapping against your ass when he speeds up a bit more before his hips slow into deep, rolling thrusts.
“Cum, baby,” Sylus whispers, “cum on my cock, cream my fuckin’ cock like a good girl, sweetie.”
“Sylus!” you grit out, thighs twitching as you cum violently on his cock, body shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm hits you harder than anything you’ve had before.
“Baby, fuck-” he growls, his fingers grabbing at your thighs to hold you in place as he shoves his cock into you as deep as possible.
You squeal, eyes squeezing shut tightly as he unravels with you, hot cum spilling into you. A soft whimper leaves you as Sylus humps his hips into a few more times, his motions stuttery and uneven as more cum floods your pussy, your walls clenching around him greedily.
A noise of protest sounds when he slumps over you, his heavy body landing on yours. Light sweat covers both of you and you pout, knowing you’ll have to shower again. Sylus doesn’t get up for a few moments, mouthing at your tits lazily and landing little kisses to your nipples. The sensations make a shiver rack through and he grunts when you push at his chest firmly, softening cock slipping out of you as he rolls onto his side and tugs you back into the warmth of his chest.
True to his word, he does cuddle you, although you’re sure he would’ve done it regardless of his previous words. 
“Asshole,” you mumble hoarsely, trying to crawl on top of him, “now I can’t walk anymore.”
Sylus laughs, his hands smoothing over your hips and waist as you settle on his lap, breasts flush against his chest and your face in the crook of his neck. You hum contentedly when he drops a kiss to your hair, squirming happily when he pets over your thighs and ass.
“I suppose I’ll just have to carry you, hm?” Sylus says, rubbing your back.
The warmth of his body has your eyes drooping shut as you nod. Sylus makes you feel safe, despite everything, his gentle touches making your mind hazy. You feel yourself falling asleep, lulled by the man beneath you.
You wake up again, mumbling softly. The weight of Sylus’ arm is noticeable, slung around your waist. Your brows furrow when you look down, realizing that he must’ve cleaned you up while you were asleep, a fresh pair of panties pulled up your legs and one of his shirts covering your upper-half.
Wriggling, you turn onto your side to find him already awake and staring at you. A sleepy smile spreads across your face, and you inch closer to land a sweet kiss to his lips. Your heart stutters in your chest when he traps your chin between his fingers, deepening the kiss for a brief moment before letting you go with a soft peck.
“Does this mean I get your card whenever I want?” you ask teasingly.
Sylus shakes his head, “that was a one time offer.”
You shoot him a sulky look, prodding your finger into his chest. “Jerk.”
He grabs your finger, lifting it to his lips and kissing the pad of it. You flush, heart fluttering at the action. Sylus smiles and you snuggle back into his chest, not before kissing his cheek quickly.
“I’m glad we met,” you say quietly.
“As am I,” Sylus murmurs, his fingers spreading across your scalp pleasantly.
“You should’ve said something sooner,” you add on after a few moments, tracing random shapes against his pec.
“Thought you’d crack first,” he replies, tucking your hair behind your ear, “all that clinginess. I was sure.”
You pinch his bicep in retaliation, squealing when he smacks your ass in return. A giggle breaks out of you when he peppers your face with kisses, a dopey smile spreading across your face as Sylus nuzzles into you affectionately. 
It’s something you’ll remember for the years to come.
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garoujo · 1 year ago
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✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — sometimes your boyfriend’s want for you just seems to be insatiable.
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ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, mating press, breeding, biting, he loses control of his technique a teeny tiny bit at the end, im going absolutely insane. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! hiii this is a lil mix of my gojo thoughts over the past few months, my sanity is slipping as u can tell <3
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the way gojo satoru was in bed was exactly how he was in real life, absolutely merciless when he wanted to be, you realise with the dizzy haze in your mind and the pillow he’s shoved under your hips. there’s a pleasurable burn in your thighs where he’s got them folded into you, your ankles dangling by his ears as his hips press into your ass and the way he looks over you is needy, and a little wild.
but he only really got like this on on a few occasions, like after a gruelling mission, a boring mountain of paperwork or maybe you’d been teasing him. sometimes he’s just consumed by the idea of you carrying his kids— he’s so incredibly insatiable.
“you feel me right here, sweet thing, hm?” the snowy haired man above you hisses with a languid roll of his hips, deliberately pressing into the sweet spots inside of you that he always seems to be able to find so easily. but you can barely breathe, nevermind answer with how full you feel — your warm walls twitching around his heavy shaft before he’s giving you a few more thrusts.
“don’t hold out on me, it feels good, right?” gojo goads, chuckles when the next particularly deep kiss of his cock along your insides has your lips parting to moan, eyes squeezing shut as you wriggle underneath him.
“‘ts too deep, satoru! fuck—“ you manage, voice breaking under the weight of your own arousal but shit— he loves you like this. pliant and pretty and all his. you’re basically begging for him to give you his soul, to pour it into your body and your bones until you’re twitching— his stamina was limitless after all, an endless pool of energy.
“oh? but i’m sure you can take more..” gojo’s words are a low drawl as he curls over your folded figure, making your muscles scream for some sort of relief but he still manages to give you more. he begins a pace that’s so deep, so animalistic that you feel like you could black out with the way the pleasure rips through you, making your body clap against his as his balls smack loudly against your ass and suddenly he’s even deeper.
“see, i knew it.” it’s smug despite the the trembling undercurrent to his tone, breaking under the weight of his own arousal as his voice takes an octave higher. but you’re doing so well for him, your eyes are rolled back— lips parted and you’re basically begging for him to go harder when he leans into press his lips against yours, pushing his name between your lips as your hands grab at him for any sort of relief.
“almost there, right?” gojo groans against you with the next quiver of your walls; the next particularly heavy thrust makes your thighs tremble and he’s so deep it almost hurts, making something spark and burn along your inside as he fucks you into the mattress like a wild animal.
you whimper, barely— it’s a desperately pathetic little sound, wound up tight and it makes him pull away to look at you, crystalline eyes cloudy with lust before his lips are stretching into a smirk.
“oh, more?” gojo’s head cocks to the side and you know you’re done for when his pace picks up, every heavy thrust is driven by the muscles in his body and your pussy squelches loudly with every wet connection of his hips.
“oh, i’ll give you more, baby. so greedy f’ me, hm?” despite his teasing, he’s babbling— sweat beading along his skin as the snowy peaks of his hair frame his flushed features and fuck, the pretty sight above you only makes you feel even better. you’re so high off his desperation, every muscle in your body screams under his but the nerves in your body cry even louder with how good you feel— with how much your body craves him.
“‘ts so tight, you milkin’ me, sweet girl? how many you want, huh? give you as many as you need. wanna see you swollen f’ me, you want that, mhm?” gojo’s barely coherent but his words only make you squeeze around him tighter— a silent little invitation as every thrust has you crying more, more, more! satoru, want your cum—please! punched out little gasps and cries as he digs the orgasm out of you.
“oh, you’ll look so pretty f’ me—f-fuck!” his huge body is looming over yours, pressing you into the mattress and the pillows beneath you. your thighs are flush against his abdomen and chest, and your lungs feel like they quake on every exhale as your lips part to moan. he presses himself into you— face nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he grazes his teeth along the skin there, headboard screeching loudly in time with every smack of his hips.
“‘toru, please please please—‘m g’nna,” you tremble as you shake beneath gojo, thighs tensing tight against his body and he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you as he smirks against your skin. your orgasm hits you so suddenly, so hard and good that your toes curl where they hang over his shoulders, your body stiffening beneath him and the first milking compression of your pussy makes his pace stutter, hugs him so tight he can’t help but bite so hard into the sensitive skin of your neck he draws blood.
“should see h-how pretty you look like this. tell me ‘ts all mine, y’ gonna make me a daddy, yeah? g’nna fill you up so good. oh, this pussy’s made f’ me, ain’t it?”
his body trembles as he pulls back slightly to watch your cream pool around the base of his cock, your slick smeared along his skin and your walls still throb with every unforgiving push of his hips. your orgasm feels like it stretches on forever as you gasp out broken yeah, yours, love you so much ‘toru, waves rolling through your body with the heat you feel pour and sting along your nerves. it only takes a few more clapping thrusts and your choked confessions before hes kissing you, just as he likes as his lips curl into you.
gojo cums hard, thick and heavy inside of you when he feels your tongue push against his, swallowing both of your groans into the kiss as he pushes his load into your puffy cunt. you’re both so lost in bliss, so unaware of the electricity across your boyfriends skin and the uncomfortable pressure that seems to suddenly weigh down on your intertwined bodies.
the bedroom light flickers but you don’t notice, he’s slurring curses against your lips as he almost pins your thighs to your chest completely, the air between you seems tighter— atoms trembling in the finate space. but he’s continuing to fuck into your sensitive pussy with tiny little thrusts you don’t notice the creek of your furniture as it twitches out of place— like it’s being pulled towards you both. the small flickers of purple fizzle out when you’re both spent and he’s collapsing on top of you with a low, breathy chuckle, making you whine with the cramp you feel in your body.
“‘toru! you’re heavy.” you grumble, voice worn and scratchy but it doesn’t move gojo as he cuddles deeper into you, leaving sweet little kisses along your skin with obnoxious kissy noises— a stark contrast to how filthy he was being a second ago.
you’re both breathing deep as you give up trying to escape from underneath him, opting to press your fingers through his damp hair instead before he finally moves. he pulls back, enough for his cock to push his cum out of your pussy as he does, squelching and dripping into the mattress beneath you both as you jolt slightly. “careful, ‘ts messy, ‘toru.”
gojo whistles lowly before he looks at you again, one of your legs still haphazardly thrown over his shoulder before he’s placing a sweet kiss to your ankle, then following it up with a painfully languid, experimental thrust as his crystalline eyes focus on the mess he’s made of you.
“come on, sweet girl. you’re not nearly full enough f’ me yet.”
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© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.
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eupheme · 1 month ago
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k06. free use + somno | use your love
old man logan x f!reader
rated e - 2.4k
tags: free use, possesive!logan, somno, kitchen sex, car sex, masturbation, oral, spitting, light encouraged choking, cock warming, creampie, feelings
There’s already a throb in his cock when his fist twists the doorknob. Some sort of conditioning. The unspoken way that he knows that you’re his.
Plucking at this deep, possessive streak that he never knew he had, until he started losing everything. Everyone.
Or maybe it just feels good to admit that he wants something. To allow himself to take something that’s offered so freely. To finally feel something, after months - years - of tamping everything down.
(Or - you and Logan have a certain, unspoken arrangement.)
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There’s a certain sense of relief knowing that you’re waiting for him.
An outlet for the frustration that simmers inside. A prickle under his skin, teeth gritting a little too hard. Another night of playing nice. A chauffeur for dickheads that he would’ve threatened to stab through, a lifetime ago.
Back when things didn’t matter, the way they did now. Before the weight he carries. When a brawl at a bar would an inconvenience at best - that ache of pain that healed with a breath - instead of something that would have him down for days.
Never liked killing, deep down. Just never had to worry about it like this before.
Achingly aware of how he’s slowed. The groan of his joints, the pull of his muscles. Knuckles swollen, as he grips the steering wheel, pulling up in front of the smelting plant.
It’s still early. Still needing his headlights to navigate the backroads, eyes narrowed in the pale, rising sun.
The crunch of his steps against gravel is the only sound, as he heads inside.
There’s already a throb in his cock when his fist twists the doorknob. Some sort of conditioning. The unspoken way that he knows that you’re his.
Plucking at this deep, possessive streak that he never knew he had, until he started losing everything. Everyone.
Or maybe it just feels good to admit that he wants something. To allow himself to take something that’s offered so freely. To finally feel something, after months - years - of tamping everything down.
Putting Charles first. Grieving silently. Keeping secrets.
It’s familiar, how he finds you. Even as the days grow shorter, the desert heat lingers. The thin sheets twisted around your legs.
An invitation, in the way you’re already stripped bare - a glint of silver between your breasts.
He always looks for it.
That silent sign you’ve come up with. An encouragement to take what he wants, when he wants it.
Only once had you taken his dog tags off, since he gifted them to you. He can still remember your glare as you ripped them from your throat, slamming them down on the bedside table.
He had pissed you off. Said something shitty. Leaving you to fume.
But you had still come back to him, in the night. Letting him write out apologies between your thighs. Murmured in your ear, as he ground himself into you.
Forgetting by morning. You always were forgiving. Knows you deserve better, but he’s been an old dog for a long time now.
Hard to change, even though he tries.
He lingers now in the doorway, for just a second.
Should eat something, can’t remember the last time he did. Something packaged, taste secondary to the fuel that he needs more than ever, as he slowly knits himself back together.
Used to taking whatever he could find, before you.
There’s leftovers in the fridge, but all he can think about is how he bent you over the counter as you waited for the timer to wind down.
How you laughed and squirmed as his chest pressed to your back, when he surprised you. Slipping into stifled moans, as his fingers dipped beneath your waistband. His mouth against your throat, lips pressed against the flutter of your pulse.
The food tastes better when he remembers the way you had cried out his name, his cock halted inside of you. Almost burnt dinner, with Joe distracted you were.
But that will have to wait, now that he’s seen you.
Would love to wake you up. Hear the morning-early rasp of his name. The scratch of your nails against his shoulders - ones that might linger for hours instead of seconds.
Finds that he doesn’t mind getting a little marked to, as long as it’s you that’s doing it.
But you look so sweet, sleeping on your side, and he loves the little moans you make as he tries not to wake you up. Tongue fitting between the cleft of your thigh as he hikes your leg a little higher. Bending himself down to the mattress - ignoring the dull ache in his back - so he can fit his mouth fully against you.
He’s become greedy, over time. Resource-guarding affection, teeth bared in a snarl.
Needing that proof that you want him. Still so focused on all your little signs, even if you’re his to take.
Another lick, feather-light. Resisting the urge to press himself flush. Work his tongue into your pussy, until he can taste himself from last night.
Knows he has your sleep schedule fucked up. Finding moments in the liminal space at dusk and dawn. His edges softened with sleep.
Heavy-limbed, as your ass pressed against his front, earlier. Squirming, teasing, until he had pulled you astride him. Looking every bit an angel with the way the setting sun haloed around you, his eyes half-lidded as his morning dawned.
“Go on, sweetheart,” He had rasped, voice low, “If you need it that bad, then ‘m sure you can put in a little work.”
His salvation glinting between your tits with each bounce - your moans pitching high as your nails bit into his chest.
It’s returned, now. Palms curving where your thigh meets your ass. Cupping and squeezing, angling you until he can taste your dampness against his mouth.
Always so fucking responsive. Your hips flexing in their sleep, when he dips down to tease at your clit.
Letting your dreams swirl in and out, winding with pleasure as the taste of you swells against his tongue. Skin turning slick beneath the spit that he lets drop from parted lips.
Making sure you can take him. You always can, always do. But his cock throbs at the thought of slipping so easily into you, the wet and warm heat that awaits him.
Another bitten-back groan as his mouth covers you again, and it’s then that you stir.
He meant to give you a little more time. Let you come from just his mouth, wake from your dreams with a shout as you pulse against his tongue.
Hands squeezing your thighs, keeping you in place for a little longer. The sleepy cadence of your breath turning short, sharp, as you’re brought back out.
His name mumbled out in your sleep, and it’s enough that he’s tugging at his belt, loosening the buttons.
Layers peeled off and kicked down at the edge of the bed, leaving them to them crumple on the floor.
Hand rough as he fists his cock, another drop of spit smeared across before his thighs nudge yours wider. You shift easily, belly-down, with the guidance of a rough palm against your hip.
And for a moment, he just looks.
Admires.
A hand coming down heavily against your ass. His palm molding to flesh, soft skin giving as he tugs you open.
Pretty little holes that he can’t get enough of stuffing full. A rough groan in his chest as his other hand works faster, squeezing at the leaking head. A thumb shifting down to press at your folds, until he can see you clench in your sleep.
Empty. He can fix that.
Angling himself down, until he’s nudging at your hole. Smearing himself against spit and slick, watching how the tip just eases inside you. How you clench instinctually around him.
A soft sound pulls from you then, as he sinks a little deeper. Watching how you stretch tight around him, as he disappears into your wet warmth.
Pulled from sleep by the time he’s pressed flush, your fingers digging into the sheets as your back arches.
Awoken from a pretty dream, only to find it true. Already you’re trying to take more. Eyes heavy-lidded as your head turns, trying to see him in the golden blush of dawn.
“Feel so fucking good, sweetheart.”
Fingers splay out against your waist. Dimpling your curves as he squeezes - a reminder that you are only flesh and bone, beneath him.
Heat and warmth and rushing blood in your veins, as he inches out, only to drive deep.
“Logan.” You squirm, each rock of his hips dragging you out of your haze.
Your ass sways, as he sets the pace. The syrupy-slowness gone, when you use your leverage to meet his thrusts. Face buried in a shared pillow as you muffle your sounds.
"Lemme hear ‘em." He husks, pitching forward - a low rumble as he keeps you pressed flat against the mattress, “Come on baby, wanna hear what I’m doing to you.”
Another rut of his hips, as his forearms settle on either side of your ribs. A hand slipping beneath, cupping a soft breast as his nose skims up the base of your neck.
Inhaling you, how his own scent clings to your skin. Melding with the sweet musk of your arousal - he’d bottle it up, if he could.
You moan, at the squeeze of his hand. At the heavy slap of his balls against your clit, sticky from the arousal that drips from you.
Calloused fingers pinching at your nipple, as the beast inside him growls, whines, then goes silent. That anger ebbing, with the way you clench down each time he slips from you, as if trying to keep him inside.
Another whine, when his elbow plants by your arm, his hand spanning loosely beneath your jaw. The ball chain cool against his skin, where the silver hooks around his thumb.
An urge to taste you again, and he does - a groan at the way your lips part so quickly for him as he angles your face to his.
The moan he swallows when his tongue brushes yours, how he knows you’re close with the way you string tight beneath him.
“Fuck, I missed you.” It’s breathed out against his lips, your fingers mapping his. Encouraging his hold to tighten around your throat, until you’re fully anchored in his grasp.
Almost an embrace. Could be, if he let himself soften. Instead, his hips snap harder against the soft flesh of your ass, and he hears the whine it pulls from you.
“Just like that. Don’t stop.” Your nails prick the back of his hand, your voice strained, “Oh my god, I’m so close-“
Doesn’t think there’s anything that could drag him away. Spearing himself again and again, the head of his cock grinding against a spot that makes your eyes roll.
A spot that has you panting, murmured pleas that turn into broken moans.
Doesn’t know when you got him so wrapped around your finger, but he’s curled firmly around each knuckle. A growl in his throat, his own release nipping at his heels.
Holds back just long enough to feel you tremble beneath him. The way you arch into his weight, loosening the moan you held back before. Brought over the edge by the rocking weight of his cock, the pinch of his fingers.
Pride washes over him, as you leak around his cock. The tight pulse thrumming as he fucks you through the waves of pleasure, soaking in your pitched-high cries. His life went to shit years ago, but even in the throes of exhaustion he’s never grown tired of pulling them from you.
He can do this, at least.
“Fuckin’ choking me, sweetheart.” He grunts, that tell-tale tightness in his belly. An urge to pin you down, hips pounding until he’s finally spilling inside you.
Letting the fire in his veins burn off the last of the thorns that sank into his skin throughout the day.
You let him.
He lets himself - face buried in your neck ask he finds that rough pace again. The slick slap of his hips as you pant beneath him.
“Please, Logan.” Your voice buzzes against his palm, “Wanna help you. Use me-”
Been using you a long time. Dependent now on the reassurance. On the way you look at him, touch him - so fucking soft. Soft beneath him now, as his groan pitches low.
“Gonna fucking come, baby.”
It’s gravel-rough, teeth gritting as you tighten around him, “Gonna keep it inside, yeah?”
“Yes.” You beg. Tugging at his palm until it loosens, until you press your lips to his skin. Across his knuckles, tongue dipping between - slipping against sensitive skin.
It’s dangerous, being that close.
It makes him come - hand wrenching away just as his claw threaten to prick through. Just able to hold them back, as his hips drive flush against yours.
A ragged moan muffled against your skin as Logan holds himself deep - letting your walls milk his orgasm from him. Fingers pinching into skin, as he keeps you in place, still enough that you can feel each throbbing pulse as he fills you.
He missed you too.
Always does.
The hours away are spent going over memories like snapshots. Ones that cling to him, his limo.
The echo of you on top of him, in the backseat. A payment you didn’t have to make - he’d take you anywhere - but you were all too willing to.
Eager to prove to him you could take it, as your nails bit into his suit. Still dripping out of you, pooling against soft fabric, when your face nuzzled into his lap as he drove you back home.
Knuckles pinched white around the steering wheel, as you kept him warm in your mouth.
Didn’t have time to take you a second time before he had to leave, but it didn’t stop him from fitting those fingers inside you - making you squeal as he fucked himself deeper, just before his evening began.
Stroking himself to the thought, each and every night he was away. Never could get enough.
It all leads back to this.
His arm bands around your stomach. Still nudged flush, as he eases you both onto your sides.
He’ll eat, later. Fingers drifting, as they dip. Not ready to go again just yet - he’s slowed, in his old years.
But his fingers can still fit against you. Swirling against slick skin as you moan, until he can feel you clenching down around him again.
Drifting off after, with his cock still buried deep. With his cheek cradled against the top of your head, an arm slung across to keep you close.
Never had enjoyed sleeping. A means to an end, everything he pushes down loosening - flashing vividly behind closed eyes.
Not until you. Not until this.
The nightmares going hazy, then quiet, when he wrapped in you the way exhaustion curls around him. A day, finally ending.
Hoping that if he dreams, it will be of you.
Just can’t get enough.
Even now, still using you.
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thank you so much for reading!! 💖
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flangore · 10 months ago
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❥ scarlet plumes
feat.: Valentino/f!reader
warnings: nsfw content, noncon, physical + psychological abuse, unhealthy relationships, violence, drugging, rough sex, choking, punishments, manipulation, Valentino is his own warning
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You were not the type to get into trouble.
Being confrontational, at least attempting to have things go your way through protests and complaints, had never seemed worth it; not when the one you were up against was Valentino, who always got what he wanted in the end, one way or another.
All too often, you had seen the way he punished disobedient whores; all too often, you had watched the way they were still limping days after, bruises blooming on skin if they had been lucky, bullet wounds trying to heal, oozing blood, if they had been less so.
There was no reason to willingly go through the struggle of disobeying when simply giving in, caving to Val's wishes and orders, was so much easier.
When Valentino told you to bend over, you did so readily, spreading your thighs apart in offering; when Valentino ordered you down onto your knees, you went obediently, lips dropping open, praying he wasn't in a bad mood, unpredictable as his sudden bursts of anger often made him.
You were not the type to get into trouble, and yet you currently found yourself on the floor, crumpled in front of Valentino's boots, cheek warm and stinging.
“Now, why don't you tell me what happened, baby?” His tone was a low coo, almost gentle enough to soothe your sobs. “You've never acted out like this before. What happened to my well-behaved girl, hm?”
In your defense, it really hadn't been your fault — you hadn't meant to do it.
Your night shift had been supposed to be a simple session for a well-known client, consisting of some lap dancing and a blow job; that was what he had paid for, at least. Your surprise when he had begun ripping your skimpy panties off you, forcing your legs apart, hands greedy, mouth drooling, high on some drug, was therefore understandable in your eyes; as was the way you, in your shock, had lashed out, claws scratching at his chest in order to push him off you. A split second later, the side of your face had ached with pain, his flat palm having met your cheek before he had stormed out of the room, screaming and spitting.
Valentino had been with you after barely any time at all.
“I didn't—”, you choked out, voice trembling, “I didn't mean to do it, sir, I swear, he just startled me, and, I mean, he didn't pay for more, he wanted to —, he wanted to—”
One hand of his cupped your cheek, golden claw gently tracing over your jaw. Even with him crouched down in front of you, he seemed ridiculously tall. “Hey—, relax, sweetheart.” At an exhale, red smoke coiled around you, assaulting your senses. Instinctively, your raised shoulders fell as tension bled from your muscles. “I get it. I understand.”
With how utterly merciless Valentino was known to be, it took a few moments for you to actually understand the meaning of his words. Even then, you barely dared to let go of the dreadful fear curled in your stomach. “You do?”
“Of course I do”, he said, eyes half-lidded behind heart-shaped glasses. His voice was soft enough to cause more tears, now of relief, to drip down your cheeks. “You know, I was really surprised when that patron came up to me, demanding to have you fired, if not killed for your disobedience. You're usually such an obedient girl — I was wondering what actually happened. Good job for being honest with me.”
Hope bloomed in your chest, your eyes widening. Streaks of mascara and eyeshadow, black and colourful, ran down your wet cheeks. “So you're not upset with me?”
“Upset with you? Of course not, amorcito. You were scared, that's alright. It happens, yeah?”
“Yeah.” Your breath hitched in a stifled sob, lips, the gloss now smudged, curling up into a pitiful mockery of a smile. “Yeah. Thank you, Val.”
This could have gone much worse. Your hands were still shaking, anxiety thrumming underneath your skin, and yet Valentino didn't even seem particularly upset. Some higher being — whether that was Lucifer or God, you didn't really care — must have blessed you, somehow.
“Of course, baby.” The moment Valentino stood once more, he towered over you, his shadow swallowing you up. “Now, follow me, yeah?”
Your legs struggled to support your weight, knees feeling weak as you trailed behind him through corridors you didn't recognise. Your steps were unsure, the heels, ridiculously high, only adding to your troubles. You have half a mind to stop yourself from asking where you're going.
It's entirely unnecessary, either way.
You arrive but a moment later, the noise of a heavy door falling shut causing you to flinch; where Valentino was in front of you just a second ago, he was now behind you, a looming presence at your back.
It was a studio; not the fancy kind actual stars like Angel Dust filmed in, but a smaller one, the light bulb flickering, the sheets on the bed stained. Voxtech cameras were pointed at the mattress.
“Val—?”
“Bend over, baby.”
“You said you're not angry with me.” The words tumbled out of your mouth without your permission, a panicked high-pitched tone. “You said you're not—”
“And I'm not, as long as you hurry the fuck up and do what I tell you to.” His voice was sharp. Instinctively, you obeyed, bending over the edge of the bed, nausea churning in your stomach. “See, that guy you were a bitch to was a regular. Good money. I gotta show him you're sorry, sweetheart. You understand that, right?”
For a moment, you didn't get a word out, throat tight as tears spilled past your lashes. Eventually, you managed a shaky; “Yes, Valentino.”
“There we go. Knew you'd get why I have to do this.”
Large hands settled on your thighs, the touch making you flinch; his claws, all too sharp, teased at your skin, leaving faint scratch marks, before they prodded at your folds.
This, by now, should have been routine. It was; and yet, the idea of this being a punishment had you tensing, muscles locking up while Valentino thrust one claw into you, only to grunt, irritated.
“Ungrateful bitch”, he spat, one hand settling on your lower back, pinning you to the bed while another fumbled with his belt, metal clinking. “That's what I get for tryin' to be nice and preparing you — tightest cunt I've ever seen. Loosen the fuck up or deal with it.”
“I'm sorry.” Your voice shook, though the threat of violence, of pain, didn't help with relaxing in the slightest. Instead, you instinctively clenched around the digit, only to whimper when he yanked it back out.
“Sure doesn't seem like it.”
The fat head of his cock, pierced, the metal cold, pressed against you, then pushed inside; you were unable to stop yourself from letting out a pitiful noise, sounding more like a wounded animal than a practiced porn star.
Valentino didn't seem to mind it one bit.
Your vision blackened out for a moment when he bottomed out inside of you, the pain agonising. For a moment, you were certain he was tearing you from the inside out. His hips slapped against your plush ones, building up a steady rhythm; one set of his hands grabbed onto your hips, claws digging into your skin, using his grip for leverage to pull you back against him
“Some wetness would help us out here, y'know”, Valentino mumbled, complaining, bitching, like this was your fault. It probably was.
The only response you were able to come up with was a choked out sob, a dull ache steadily present in your abdomen, only interrupted by sharp stabbing pain whenever Valentino's tip hit an impossibly deep spot inside of you.
This couldn't have possibly gotten worse — or so you thought, tears dripping down your face, your claws ripping the sheets as you scrambled for purchase, only for it to get so much more agonising when, all of a sudden, his hand closed around your throat, squeezing.
You weren't able to breathe.
Instinctively, you clenched around him, thighs shaking. If he wasn't still holding you up, you would have collapsed.
“Fuck, you're so damn tight.” Valentino groaned, low and raspy. His tongue lapped at your neck, leaving trails of pink saliva to drip down your shoulders, your chest. “We could've had such a pleasant time together, baby, if only you hadn't been such a disobedient slut. Hate that you're making me do this.”
His pace was unforgiving, the metal of his belt buckle hitting your hip with every other thrust, surely leaving bruises. Not that it mattered — Valentino did provide you with full coverage makeup, after all.
Out of the corner of your eye, you focused on the red dots of the many cameras, blinking, recording. By now, numbness spread through you, a small blessing. You weren't certain just how long it went on; only that, eventually, Valentino came with a groan, filling you up, making you whimper.
When his grip on your throat loosened for a split second, allowing you to suck a burning breath into your lungs, it felt like Heaven.
“Use your words, baby. Talk to me.”
“Val, 'm sorry—”
“Yeah?”
“I'm sorry”, you repeated, the words barely audible through sobs, “I'm sorry, Val, I'm sorry—”
Suddenly, his hand, still on your throat, yanked your head up, his lips clashing against yours; the very moment you opened your mouth, pliant with submission, with exhaustion, smoke flooded it, you choking on it.
Your mind felt muddled, mouth dry even as saliva trickled out of your lips, jaw slack.
Faintly, you were able to feel his cum drip out of your cunt and down your thighs, sticky.
“Now”, Valentino said, voice a sultry purr, “Why don't you wait here, I'll send you your client and you apologise properly to him?”
Mind filled with scarlet plumes, you barely knew what you were agreeing to, nodding mindlessly. “Yes, Valentino.”
“That's what I like to hear. Good girl.”
When multiple pairs of footsteps echoed through the room, you, even in your hazy state, had the bad feeling that you were going to be having a long night.
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i won't lie i didn't proofread this yet.. tomorrow... ALSO FIRST POST YIPPEEE
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4unnyr0se · 6 months ago
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Hear me out…asking Kenma and Akaashi to eat it from the back..
❥ eat it from the back | kenma kozume & keiji akaashi
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warnings: timeskip! kenma and akaashi, fem! reader, eating pussy from the back (obvs), kenma is a tease and akaashi is a gentleman, fingering, spanking (kind of), mentions of hickeys, bokuto mentioned
MDNI | 18+ content
word count -> 2.1k
a/n: okay i literally hate this with every fiber of my being but i hope u like it nonnie xx
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Kenma Kozume
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“Hey babe?” you poked your head into your bedroom shared by your boyfriend, the neon red and white lights reflecting off his hazelnut waves. The atmosphere was cozy and quaint, accompanied by the faintest sound of video game characters making attack noises at each other. “I-I have a question if you aren’t busy.” your manicured nails anxiously rubbed against the doorframe, a worrying feeling coursing through your pulsating veins. 
Kenma turned around, placing his cat-ear headphones around his neck. You had gotten them as a joke last Christmas, but he grew attached to them quickly. Your boyfriend was akin to that of a cat, after all. “Yeah, what’s up? Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice laced with a mild concern. You were usually so open with him, never afraid to speak your mind. Why did you seem anxious? Were you hurt?
“O-oh, everything is fine. It’s just…I wanted to try something different, if that’s okay.” you smiled in a feeble attempt to assure him, closing the door behind you. Kenma raised an eyebrow and exited his expensive gaming chair, electing to sit on the king-sized bed on the other side of the room. He patted the blanketed spot next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder once you were snuggled deep into his side. “What did you wanna try, hm? It’s okay, I won’t judge you.”
You blushed and bit down on your lip, not daring to look into Kenma’s gorgeous golden eyes. Since you started dating, your boyfriend has always accommodated your needs, ensuring you feel safe and secure. Surely he would not refuse you now? “Uh, my friend sent me a video on Twitter and…and it was of a girl getting head from behind. I-if you know what I mean.”
A smirk decorated Kenma’s lips as he pulled you impossibly closer to his chest, the thick fabric of his company hoodie softly grazing your blushing cheek. “Oh, was that it? That’s nothing, baby. You know I can’t say no to your pretty face when you ask for something so simple.” he purred, grasping your chin with his hand. He pulled you out of his hoodie to look into his eyes, molten with a newfound desire and longing. The padding of his thumb pulled on your bottom lip, admiring how pretty you looked when you were so desperate for him. “Can you take those pants off and get on all fours for me, pretty girl?”
You nodded quickly, practically ripping off your pants along with your panties, tossing them in some random corner of the room to be forgotten about. You smushed your flushing face against the silky sheets of the massive bed, your back arching so perfectly for him. All on display, all for Kenma. He growled at the sight, kneading the flesh of your ass between his long fingers. “Fucking perfect.” he groaned, playfully cracking his hand against your skin. “Shit, you’re fucking dripping for me. Do you want this that badly, baby?”
“Yes!” you whimpered, your hands finding purchase in the sheets as Kenma bent down, his fingers trailing your dripping folds. “Please, fuck, please just, just do it!” 
“Okay, pretty girl, whatever you want,” he whispered, placing a teasing kiss on your inner thigh before his mouth landed on your soaked core. His hot tongue slid up and down your folds, mewl after pathetic mewl escaping your lips and being drowned out by the sheets. His hands gripped onto your thighs to secure your position, leaving tiny, fingerprint-sized bruises. His tongue drew playful circles around your sopping entrance, pushing the tip of his muscle in occasionally so he could relish in your surprised squeal.
Kenma indulged himself in you, but that was no shock at all. He was a very greedy lover, and you adored that about him. You tasted like the nectar of the gods on his skilled tongue, his name falling from your plump lips in a broken prayer as your stomach sank further into the mattress, slowly coming undone by his expert oral ministrations. “Shit, you’re fucking shaking. You must’ve wanted this, huh, baby?
His lewd words sent vibrations throughout your body, causing your clit to so painfully throb. “P-please,” you begged, reaching behind you to desperately grasp for his hand. “Need you, please.” Your hand found purchase on his wrist, impatiently dragging it to hover above your soaked clit. 
He choked back a moan as his fingers began to swirl around your clit, pinching the sensitive bud just to get a beautiful yelp to fall from your lips. The way it was throbbing, the way you were so beautifully dripping all over his chin and mouth; you were close. He could feel it. Kenma could tell when you were about to reach orgasm by the way your walls squeezed his cock, but this time it was different. Your body was shaking and trembling, so you were in for quite a ride. 
“Gonna fucking cum, baby? That’s okay, cum on my face. You can do it, can’t you? Be a good fucking girl and drown me, don’t make me ask again.” he demanded, rhythmically plunging his tongue in and out of your entrance. His tongue accidentally-on-purpose hit the most sensitive spot inside your core, causing you to topple over the edge and into complete and utter bliss. You release coated half of his lower face, making the mess Kenma never tired of seeing. Fuck, you looked so perfect like this. Bent over and all spent for him, profanities escaping your mouth as you rode your high so gracefully. 
Reluctantly, Kenma pulled himself away from your drenched lower half, wiping your release from his lips. As you turned around to face him, he smacked your ass. “Sorry baby,” he corrected, standing up to slide off his sweatpants and boxers. His cock leaked with precum, prodding at your entrance. “Did you really think we were done? That’s so cute.”
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Keiji Akaashi
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Akaashi has been your most trusted friend ever since high school. You were Fukurodani’s manager and went to the same university as him, often spending time with each other for whatever reason you two wanted, be it studying or simply crying over your shitty boyfriend cheating on you. He was always there for you, and you were always there for him. You knew everything about each other, everything, including your deepest, most dark desires.
It began when you discovered (by pure accident) that you had apartments in the same building, one floor apart. It was a shock at first, albeit a hilarious one. Akaashi joked about how you could never get rid of him, like how you and Bokuto were attached at his hip in high school. Eventually, like in college, you spent every free moment with each other. He could be editing a manga panel on his laptop, and you gingerly made him tea, patting his head. His green eyes would always trail to the hem of your top, the hint of exposed cleavage driving him secretly wild. Or how you would wear your sleep shorts constantly because you worked from home, the sight of your exposed thighs making him instantly hard in his slacks. 
One day, the tension between the two of you snapped. Akaashi had you against the wall, your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands squeezing your waist. His lips molded so perfectly against your own, groaning into your mouth as your teeth teasingly bit onto his bottom lip. That night was filled with passion and longing, a longing that started to brew since the day you decided to become a Fukurodani manager. Since then, your neck has never been free from his hickeys or marks, and Akaashi’s wrists always have one of your bracelets dangling from the bone.
You never kept anything from each other; why would you? You had known each other for so long that you and he were practically in sync—what he did, you did, etc. So when your friend sent you a Twitter link to a video of a girl trembling as she got eaten out from behind, you just had to show him.
“Keiji, look at this.” you tapped him on the shoulder, momentarily distracting him from editing a manga panel. “My friend sent me this. It’s pretty hot, right?” The video was muted, but the woman’s pleasure was so undeniable. Three fingers pumped in and out of her sobbing pussy while her partner secured her position with his large hands, his tongue ravishing her. 
“Yeah, it is really hot,” Akaashi looked at you with a flicker of desire in his eyes, kissing your fingers gently. “Would you like to try that, sweetheart?” He rose from his chair, slightly towering above you. He was so gentle at times you had forgotten that he used to play volleyball. Akaashi was pretty damn tall. You nodded and leaned to kiss him, resting your arms on his broad shoulders. He smiled into the kiss, breaking it for only a moment so he could drag you into the living room. Shrugging off his cardigan and removing his glasses, he gestured to the leather couch. “Can you get into the position like the girl in the video, sweetheart? Face down, ass up, come on.”
You happily obliged, stripping yourself of your shorts and panties instantly. You proudly displayed yourself for him, wiggling your ass playfully with a teasing grin plastered across your beautiful face. “Like this Keiji, yeah? Like when we do doggy style.”
“Exactly like when we do doggystyle, sweetheart.” Akaashi groaned, massaging your ass tenderly. You were already dripping for him, fuck. Were you thinking about this for longer than he thought? “You always look so fucking pretty for me.” his long and calloused fingers prodded at your throbbing entrance, eliciting an impatient moan from your lips. “Don’t tease, baby! Wan’ you so bad, c’mon!”
He pushed his index and middle finger inside your sobbing core, curling them inside instantly. Your walls squeezed about him perfectly, your manicured nails clawing at the pillow supporting your head. “T-tongue! Wan’ your tongue, Keiji! Please…” you whimpered, turning your head to look at him with a flustered and needy expression. 
“I know, pretty girl,” he cooed, quickening his ministrations in your fluttering cunt. “Just doing what the guy in the video did, right? You’ll get my tongue soon enough,” he assured you, squeezing the backs of your thighs lovingly. That put you at ease for a moment until his skilled tongue licked a fat stripe up your glistening folds, earning the most delightful squeal from your throat. 
“Fuck.” Akaashi slowly dragged his tongue up and down your wanton heat, groaning as your slick covered his tongue and mouth. You always tasted divine, like something not of this world. Your thighs already began to shake like the girl in the video, his fingers gently pistoning in and out of you being the perfect finishing touch. “So fucking pretty like this,” he whispered against you, fingers pulling out of your heat to rub against the clit. “I’ve never seen you this needy. Have you always wanted to try this? Hm?” 
You frantically nodded and pressed yourself against his face, wanting more of his wet muscle against your core. “J-just make me cum, dammit! You never tease me like this.”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Akaashi buried himself in your cunt once more, tracing delicate circles on your most sensitive part. At the same time, his index finger rubbed your clit too well, the slick from inside your pussy adding a new kind of lubrication. Akaashi chuckled in satisfaction as he felt your orgasm approach, his tongue prodding at your entrance. He plunged the wet muscle inside, slurping noises filling the room of your otherwise silent living area. The tip expertly dipped in and out, running along each of your folds to avoid neglecting either.  “Want you to cum on my tongue, sweetheart,” he demanded, rubbing on your clit at a sickeningly fast pace. “Can you do that for me now? Wanna cum on my tongue?”
Like you were something he had programmed, you became unraveled all over his tongue, your slick release covering his mouth. “S-shit! Keiji, fuck! Oh my fucking god, don’t stop! Holy shit, fuck, fuck!” 
Akaashi smiled as he pulled away from your heat, giving your inner thighs gentle kisses. “You did so well, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.” He grabbed your hips and flipped you around, pressing his lips against yours in a tender embrace. His tongue flicked against your lips, spreading some of your release. “You taste amazing, can you see?” 
You nodded and collapsed onto his chest, rubbing your head against the wool fabric of his sweater. “Gonna take a nap on you, is that okay?”
Akaashi chuckled to himself and kissed the top of your sweaty head, rubbing his hands down your back. “Of course, baby, get as much rest as you need. You did so well for me.”
have a request? my asks are open <3
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soaps-mohawk · 5 months ago
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 25: Animals
Summary: As your relationship begins to shift with your pack, you find yourself with an itch you just can't seem to scratch.
Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Kyle x Johnny
Word Count:
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, very rough sex, big feral energy, excessive biting, blood, choking (for like one sentence), squirting (I cannot be stopped), crying, manhandling, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), cum eating, cum sharing, cock warming, reader gets folded like a chair several times, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, some feelings, just barely a hint of angst, and fluff. (Also just in case, Price is being a tease at the end)
A/N: Uh, yeah. I don't have any excuse for this one. The same warnings as last time apply here, don't read it in public, sit down, underwear, you get the point. Enjoy you depraved heathens
MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->
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A low growl rumbles in his chest, vibrating through your entire body. This one is different, the pitch lower, the back of your neck prickling. Your legs shake at the sound, pussy clenching around him as he nearly piledrives into you. 
“Say it.” He growls, his voice rough with the edges of his alpha. It has you keening, pushing back against him. He uses the hand around your throat to lift you, bending your back almost painfully as he growls into your ear. “Fucking say it again.” 
“Alpha!” You whine, choking around his hand as his fingers dig into your neck for a moment. 
He releases you, letting you flop bonelessly on the bed as he continues to snap his hips against your ass so hard the bed slams against the wall. You can’t do anything but lay there and take it, your vision starting to go blurry from the pleasure. 
Simon’s hands frame your head, gripping the sheets as he grunts and groans over you. You stare at his arm, at the muscle in his forearm as he holds himself up, straining from the exertion of fucking you so hard your vision is starting to go blurry. You shift your head to the side, moving closer to his arm before sinking your teeth into his wrist. He lets out a warning growl, but you sink your teeth in harder, the coppery taste of blood filling your mouth. He leans down, sinking his teeth into your shoulder in retaliation until something slides down your chest. 
It’s not sweat. 
You bite harder, undeterred by his own teeth in your shoulder. You’re not giving him this one. There’s a feral urge in you to fight, to sink your teeth in a shake like a dog until he gives up. Blood trails in rivulets down to his hand and onto the sheets as he gives in, releasing your shoulder. You purr in victory, releasing his wrist. He curses, yanking his arm away before he covers your mouth with his hand. His fingers dig into your cheeks, muffling your whines and moans as he licks at your shoulder, blood slowly dripping from the wound. 
“Fucking little omega.” He grunts, his thrusts starting to get sloppy. 
You can’t do anything but moan against his hand, his thrusts pushing your clit against the side of the bed. Your breaths are rapid through your nose, your mind buzzing from the near blinding pleasure. Pleasure tickles at the base of your spine, making your legs shake to the point of nearly giving out. You’re not sure how much longer you can last, not with the way he’s pounding into you. 
He cums suddenly, his hips snapping against your ass before warmth shoots into your belly again. You moan against his hand, eyes rolling back as his orgasm fails to tire him. He picks the pace back up almost immediately, thrusting wildly into you. High pitched moans cut through the air as he releases you, pushing himself up to stand. Hands pull your hips back off the bed, fingers digging into the soft skin as your shaking legs offer no support for your body. 
His thrusts become shallower, less sloppy and more focused. Your hands curl into his sheets, certain you’re going to rip the fabric as the overwhelming feeling begins to fill you once again. 
“Alpha!” You shriek, his cock aimed for that spot inside of you again. The pressure is building, almost becoming too much. “No, no,” You whine, feeling like you might explode. You know what’s coming next, and you’re not sure you can handle another one. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 
Your legs do give out as fluid squirts out of you, soaking Simon and forcing his cum right out of you. It drips onto the towel, your body spasming in his hold. You can’t do anything but lay there and whimper, your very veins burning from your orgasm and the overstimulation. 
Simon shoves you back up the bed, pushing his cock back inside you. You clench around him, the feeling almost too much as he starts his brutal pace back up, his hips driving you into the side of the mattress. His hand tangles in your hair, pushing your face into the sheets as he growls, rutting into you like an animal. Your body feels hot, your skin burning and your mouth getting dry from the exertion. You feel almost like you’re in heat again, the needy pleasure starting to fog your brain. 
If only he could knot you right now. That might ease the ache beginning to form in your pelvis. 
“Alpha,” You gasp, your hands scrambling back to reach his. “Alpha, please!” 
“Fuck,��� He growls, releasing your hips to grab you by the shoulders, fingers digging into your skin as he uses the leverage to pull you back against him. 
Your eyes roll back, mouth hanging open as slick gushes out around him, dribbling down your thighs, mixing with your sweat. You’re close again, your sensitive pussy driving you closer and closer to the edge. Your back arches, pushing back against him as your hands lift, gripping onto his fingers. 
“Alpha, alpha please.” You whine, hands squeezing tightly around his fingers. 
He leans down, pressing his face into the back of your neck, his breaths puffing against your heated skin. He drags his tongue up your spine, lapping at the sweat coating your body. He growls, tilting his head before sinking his teeth into the back of your neck. 
You let out a high pitched shriek, your vision going black. You writhe under him, feet trying to gain some sort of traction on the floor but you can’t get your legs to work. You’re rendered nearly immobile as his teeth sink into the delicate skin, his hands slipping under you to grip the sheets. 
He continues to fuck into you, growling around your neck. Tears are leaking out of your eyes, the sounds coming from your lips a mix of sobs, moans and pathetic whines. Another orgasm wracks through you, your body shuddering under him as he sinks his teeth in until you bleed, spilling into you. 
He releases you after his cock stops twitching, letting your body go. You nearly slide off the edge of the bed but he grabs you, flipping you back over onto your back. The back of your neck is stinging as he maneuvers you up the mattress, pushing your thighs back up to your chest. His eyes are nearly black as he stares down at you, blood on his lips and dribbling down his chin. His arm is bleeding still where you bit him, smearing across his skin and yours. 
He holds your thighs against your chest as he pushes back into your sensitive pussy, still hard and almost throbbing. You can do nothing but lay there, whimpering and whining as he takes you over and over until your vision goes dark. 
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Your body aches. It pulls you from sleep, the pain waking you from your precious slumber. You let out a groan, shifting against the hard surface under you. You can’t get your arms to move, your limbs shaking as you try to get your muscles to work. You’re beginning to panic, feeling almost paralyzed. 
A hand trails down your back, rough fingers following the line of your spine. You whimper, pressing your face into Simon’s chest. 
“Easy.” His deep voice rumbles under your ear, rough and huskier than normal. 
Your throat feels raw, your tongue heavy in your mouth. You try to speak but all that comes out is a whine as you become aware of the intense throbbing between your thighs. 
“What do you need?” He asks, still stroking your back. 
“Water.” You manage to croak out, peeling your eyes open. 
Your vision is blurry, your waking brain quickly becoming aware of the pain in your body. Simon shifts under you, making you whine as the jostling just makes you aware of more pain. 
Your skin feels like it's on fire, a tingling burn stinging the back of your neck. Your neck and shoulders are sore and aching, and there's a deep thrumming pain between your thighs. As memories of the night before begin to resurface, you know you're covered in bites and bruises, dried blood caked to your skin. 
Simon shifts you again, another whine leaving your lips. He shushes you gently, pulling the blanket tighter around you as he maneuvers himself out from under you. You're laying on the floor, covered with the comforter off his bed. When you moved here, you're not sure. There’s a point where your mind goes blank, where the memories are cut off and nothing remains. 
Simon quite literally fucked the life right out of you. 
You’re suddenly aware of the chill in the room as you lose Simon’s warmth, another whimper leaving your lips. Simon gently maneuvers the blanket around you, tucking you into one side before rolling it around you until you’re immobile in a blanket burrito. You can’t do anything but watch as he digs through his dresser, pulling on a pair of sweatpants. 
“Be right back.” He murmurs before he steps out of the room, leaving you alone. 
You blink slowly, trembling slightly from the combination of the cold and your aching body. You can’t pinpoint which part of you hurts the most, your muscles feeling like you just completed a marathon without any training. You suppose you have in a way. Last night was certainly a marathon of sex, one which probably continued long after the gap in your memory started. 
Simon returns, water bottle in hand. You stare up at him as he closes the door, moving to sit on the floor again. He maneuvers you in your blanket burrito so you’re sitting up, tugging you back against his chest. You wince at the pressure between your legs and pelvis in the position, trying to shift in your confines to ease the ache. Simon unscrews the cap on the water bottle, your eyes drawn to the scabbed bite mark on his right arm. You remember doing that, sinking your teeth in until he bled, the coppery tang still on your tongue. The feral need to win the battle of wills, the determination blinding you to the pain in your shoulder where he had sunk his own teeth into you. 
One of many places. 
Simon lifts the bottle to your lips, holding it steady as you eagerly gulp down the water. It eases the ache in your throat, the dryness making your tongue feel like it was coated in sand. It’s like finding an oasis after stumbling through the burning desert. 
There’s a slight tremble to Simon’s hand as he holds the bottle for you, tilting it slowly as you guzzle down the contents. A sour edge borders his scent, something you pick up as awareness continues to return to you. Your brows furrow as you sit there, trying to make sense of the thoughts swirling through your mind as the sourness in his scent intensifies. 
You finish off the water bottle, taking in a few deep breaths. “Simon?” You say quietly, your voice not quite as hoarse as it had been thanks to the water. 
“I fucking knew it.” He breathes, his body tensing behind you. 
“Simon.” You say, trying to wiggle out of the blanket burrito you've been confined in, looking like a fish flopping around. 
You finally manage to flop yourself over his leg, rolling out of the blanket. You lay there for a moment, trying not to show any sign of the pain in your body from the exertion. You push yourself up, pushing past the pain as you lean on your arm. You're slightly out of breath from your efforts, taking a moment to breathe. 
“Fucking look at you.” He breathes, eyes trailing the brutal picture you paint sitting there. 
You raise your eyebrows, scanning his exposed skin. “Look at you.” You counter, bite marks and scratches littering his arms, and you know there's more under his shirt and mask.
You push past the confusing, contradictory thoughts, the tickling in your mind telling you to stay back, to let him work through what he has to work through and not risk making the sour scent coming off of him worse. You can’t hide the pained groan you let out as you push yourself onto shaking hands and knees, half crawling, half dragging yourself across the short distance to him. 
You plant yourself next to him with a heavy sigh, leaning on one hip as you face him. You ignore the throbbing between your thighs, the discomfort in your body as you prop yourself up in front of him, planting one hand between his thick thighs still spread on the floor. 
“Yeah, I may be hurting right now, but it's because you quite literally fucked the soul out of me.” You lean slightly so you're looking him in the eye. “I don't regret it, and I wouldn't change anything. Hell, I would have let you go another round this morning if you hadn't put me through however many rounds last night.” You can’t handle the discomfort of sitting anymore, flopping yourself back down onto the floor, resting your head on his leg as you try to find a comfortable position. “Shit, I'm gonna have to take up yoga if you keep trying to fold me into some of those positions.”
The ache in your muscles isn’t all from the lengthy activities last night. You distinctly remember having your knees pressed against your chest several times. 
“Lucky you didn't make me pull a hamstring or something.” You continue, staring up into his dubious gaze. You roll onto your side, immediately regretting it as your sore hip presses into the floor, but you refuse to show your discomfort for his sake. “If you're really that concerned, then take me to see Dr. Keller. Plop me in a wheelchair and wheel me over there.” 
You go quiet, staring up at him for a moment. He's barely moved since you flopped your way out of the blanket like a fish. You can't tell what he's thinking, only that the sourness is gone from his scent. The silence is tense despite the easing of his discomfort, hanging heavy over the both of you. You sink your teeth into your sore lip, raising your brows as you wait for some kind of response, some acknowledgement, some mutual sharing of the thoughts running through his head. It only feels courteous after he simultaneously rearranged your guts, made you cry, and fucked you like a real alpha. 
“Are you going to say anything?” You finally break the silence, blinking up at him. 
His shoulders lift as he inhales deeply, panic shooting through you for a moment as you wait for some kind of rejection or anger. “I miss when your thoughts were inside your head.”
You stare at him in surprise for a moment before biting your lip to try and hide your smile. “I thought you hated that about me.”
“I take it back.” He says, reaching forward to brush his fingers across your jaw. 
A quiet purr rumbles in your chest as you lean into his touch, nuzzling against his hand. You stare up at him, holding his intense gaze fearlessly. Something stirs in the back of your mind as a low growl rumbles in his chest. 
“Fucking hell.” He growls, moving his hand from your face to adjust his sweatpants, the musky scent of arousal thickening in the air. 
“Well, you're on your own with that.” You say, pushing yourself up from where you're laying. “I am all fucked out.” You flop over onto the floor, facing away from him. 
He hums, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Might have to call Johnny in. I'm sure he's all worked up from last night. He'd wrap those pretty lips around my cock in a heartbeat.”
Despite the deep throbbing, burning pain in your pelvis, you feel yourself becoming aroused at the mental picture of Johnny kneeling between Simon's legs, mouth wrapped around that thick cock. Will he still taste like you? Johnny would know. 
“Fuck.” You breathe, trying to calm the dampness starting to slick your pussy again. You scramble for any distraction, anything to think of besides Simon folding Johnny in half on the bed and growling as he fucks his beta just as roughly as he did you last night. “Simon?” You breathe, glad your legs are too tired to press together for friction. 
He hums, still palming himself over his sweatpants. 
“How did we get on the floor?” You ask. 
“Was between the ninth and tenth rounds.” He says. “When I made you ride me, all needy and whiny.” He shifts behind you, starting to crawl toward you. “Couldn't even lift yourself up. Touched your clit once and had you cumming immediately, sensitive little thing.”
You bite back a moan as his fingers slip between your thighs, dragging through your aching folds. “Okay, okay.” You reach back, trying to slap his hand away. “‘S too much.” You whine. “Gonna drag myself across the hall so I can take a hot bath.” 
You lift yourself up onto your arms, your legs too tired to even push up onto your knees again. You pathetically attempt to drag your body towards his door, Simon letting out a quiet sigh. He hooks his arm under your knees, tugging you back closer to him. 
He shifts up onto his knees, letting out a sigh. “Let me find your knickers and I'll take you.”
He helps you into your underwear and the shirt you wore yesterday before he scoops you up off the floor far too easily. It’s a short walk down the hallway to your room, your body still shivering a bit from the cold. 
He sets you on the edge of your bed before going into the bathroom to turn on the water for the tub. You wonder if he’ll do it, if he’ll push past that barrier and allow the intimacy of the moment, or if what had transpired last night had been enough, had pushed that barrier to its extreme. 
You watch him as he comes back out, standing in front of you. He no longer looks like the opposing figure you had once seen him as. He's still large, but he's lost the intensity and danger. Even now with his shoulders tensed and hands curled into fists, you're not intimidated or afraid. You can tell he's nervous, hesitant. This is a big move for him, and you're not sure he wants to make it yet.
“You can go get Kyle, or even John.” You say quietly, gently as you stare up at him. “I won't be upset. We've made a lot of jumps over the last few days. If you need to take a step back, I don't blame you.”
Something flashes in his eyes. Relief or maybe gratitude, perhaps both. You wouldn't blame him for not wanting to be so vulnerable, especially after the vulnerability he showed last night. It’s asking a lot of him, and you’re scared to push him too far, make him retreat into himself again after so much progress. 
“I'll...go find someone else.” He says.
You nod, giving him a small smile. “Okay.”
He turns away from you, heading back towards the door. 
“Simon?” You call and he stops, turning back to face you. “Go easy on Johnny. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself.”
He lets out a sigh, rolling his eyes. “Fucking hell.”
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You're fighting the dampness in your underwear as you walk with John towards the med center. It's been almost three days since your first time with Simon and you've been fighting arousal almost every minute of every day. Despite the physical ache still lingering from the intense fucking you had done, you haven’t been able to stop the aching arousal from dripping into your underwear constantly. 
This isn't your normal scheduled appointment with Dr. Keller. You wanted to see her to make sure nothing was wrong. You hadn't felt like this after your first time with any of the others. Sure you had gotten aroused every time you thought about it, but it hadn't been uncontrollable like this. 
The cool air in the med center is a blessing as you head for Dr. Keller’s office, John following behind you. You shift on your feet as you wait for the door to open, the brush of your arm against John’s almost electric. You sink your teeth into your lip, trying to stop the arousal from intensifying just in the presence of your alpha. He knows something is off, probably able to smell the intense arousal that has plagued you for the last three days. You haven’t done anything about it, trying to allow yourself to rest and recover after Simon fucked the sense out of you. 
Dr. Keller opens the door after what feels like a lifetime, and you quickly inhale the calming beta scent wafting out of the room, hoping it will ease the ache between your thighs. 
“Come on in.” She says, holding the door open for you. 
You stand on your toes, kissing John’s cheek in parting before entering Dr. Keller’s office. You take your usual seat, lowering yourself gingerly into the cushions. It’s a relief compared to the brutal plastic of the benches in the mess. 
Dr. Keller sits in her usual spot at the couch, eyeing the fading marks littering your skin. “This isn’t our usual appointment.” She starts, her brows furrowing a bit as she lifts her gaze to your eyes. “Everything alright?” 
“I, uh,” You stumble over your words, not having even thought about how you’d bring this up to Dr. Keller. “There’s a situation that’s developed.” You say, leaning back in the chair to try and ease some of the ache between your legs. “I don’t know why it’s happening or why it’s started now, but uh,” You swallow the nervous lump in your throat. “Simon and I had our first time a couple days ago. Things got...heated.” You scratch at the healing teeth marks on the back of your neck. “Very heated. It was like we...” 
“Lost control?” She suggests, seeming to almost know what you were going to say. 
You nod. “Yeah. Things got a bit...rough before we even had sex and then...when we did, things got almost...violent.” The word tastes bad on your tongue, but you’re not sure how else to describe it. Rough wasn’t enough, but perhaps violent was a bit too much. “And ever since then, I’ve just been constantly horny and I don’t know what to do. It wasn’t like this with the others, not even John.” 
Dr. Keller hums, staring at you for a moment. “It sounds to me like your instincts are out of control.” She says simply. “You’re both purebreds, which means you’re both more sensitive to your instincts, scents, emotions, even physical things like body language. You’re more sensitive to each other, too. In those moments of intense emotion, it’s not uncommon for things to get a bit out of hand, for instincts to take over, especially when it’s a new relationship.” 
“That makes sense.” You say. “He always seems to just know things, sense things about me that the others don’t. Sometimes it’s like he knows what I’m thinking. Both times it happened there was just something so...animalistic about it.” 
“Mhm.” Dr. Keller hums, nodding in agreement. “There’s always a risk when purebreds are together that things may slip out of control. Your omega peeked her head out because she sensed a virile alpha, and his alpha came out to meet her. No matter how much control one has over their instincts, moments like that can throw all the hard work and training out the window.” 
“Is there a way to stop that?” You ask. 
“It will start to even out on its own to a point, as you and Lieutenant Riley adjust to one another, but there is something that may help both of you. I was going to bring this up during our next appointment, but this might be a better time. Captain Price and I discussed it while Lieutenant Riley was away.” She sits back on the couch, crossing her legs. “I know you know that purebreds have stronger instincts, and are more sensitive and aware of them. While that can be helpful in certain situations, I’m sure you also know it can be a hindrance, especially in moments of high tension or highly emotional situations.” 
You nod. “Yeah. I know.” 
“What you likely haven’t been told,” Dr. Keller continues. “Is that it’s possible to learn to balance those instincts, and even utilize them.”
You blink at her. It is news to you. No one has ever told you that was a possibility. You’ve only been taught that your heightened instincts made you more desirable, and how they can help you learn to serve your alpha and your pack. 
“Lieutenant Riley likely learned how to balance and utilize his during his military training. Regardless of if he was taught directly or not, his training taught him how to stay calm in tense, stressful, highly emotional situations. It also taught him how to utilize his instincts for his job.” 
“That’s why he can read me so easily.” You say, the pieces beginning to come together. 
“Purebreds are more sensitive to things like scents. Your noses can detect subtle changes, even lingering scents, things non-purebreds can’t. That makes it easier to read emotions, and also predict potential threats.”  Dr. Keller’s lips twitch in a smile. “That also means you’re more sensitive to things like arousal.” 
Your cheeks flush as you think of all the times you’ve been turned on by Simon during training or one of the other members of your pack. He’s known the whole time. He could sense it long before the others could. 
How did he keep control of himself for so long? 
“How do I learn to do what he does?” You ask. 
“I can help you learn to balance your instincts so you’re less vulnerable to them, but only another purebred skilled in instinctual control can help you learn to utilize them.” She says. 
You let out a breath, sinking down lower in the chair. “No one’s ever told me that was a possibility.” 
“They wouldn’t have.” She says. “There would have been no benefit for the institute to teach you how to do it. It would have made you too aware of your skills and abilities, the control you can have over others. They want subservient omegas that bow to their alpha. It’s hard to do that once you’re aware of what you could be.” 
“Can...can we do that? Work on my instincts?” You ask. 
Dr. Keller nods. “Of course. Captain Price has already voiced his approval when I spoke to him about it. I think it will be very beneficial for you to at least learn to balance your emotions.” 
“How do we start?” You ask. 
“The most important part of all of this is your breathing. I know I’ve said it before, but that’s crucial to keeping your head clear and aware. Your breathing starts to pick up, your instincts kick in.” 
You nod. “Okay.” 
“We can start with the easiest exercise, which is a trigger point exercise.” She says. “It utilizes common trigger points on your body that elicit instinctual responses when pressure is applied to them. There’s trigger points all over your body. On your legs, arms, sides, and of course, the neck.” 
You nod again. “O-Okay.” 
“We wouldn’t start with the neck, since that elicits the strongest response and would be too overwhelming at first. We’ll work up to that.” Dr. Keller says, standing up. “It’ll be easiest to do it sitting on the floor.” 
You shift off the chair, easing yourself onto the floor, sitting cross legged. You can’t help but feel nervous, despite the fact you trust Dr. Keller. You’re branching into new territory, something you didn’t even know was a thing until a few minutes ago. 
“Breathe.” She says, sitting cross legged in front of you. “The most important part of this is the breath. It’s going to feel intense, your body will react no matter how hard you try and stop it. Let it happen, let your body do what it’s meant to do and just be aware of those instincts starting to surface. Don’t think too hard on them, just let them be there and focus on your breathing. Okay?” 
You let out a breath. “Yeah.” 
“I’ll know if things start to be too much, and we’ll stop immediately.” She says. “Hold out your arms.” 
You do as she says, her hands warm as she wraps her fingers around them, supporting them. 
“Close your eyes.” She directs, her thumbs coming to rest right below the inner bend of your elbow on the inside of your forearms. “Deep breaths.” 
You take a deep breath in and she presses down with her thumbs. 
You can’t stop it as your body tenses, panic beginning to bubble up in you. It’s too much, the feelings wrong, the alarms in your brain starting to go off as your body detects some kind of threat. Your arms try to tug free of her grasp but she doesn't let go, your shoulders lifting to try and protect your neck while your hands can’t. 
Your breathing has picked up, near hyperventilating as the instincts flood your mind. You don’t know if you should run or hide or lay there and play dead. Your hands have curled into fists, fingers shaking from the adrenaline pumping through you. 
“Breathe.” Dr. Keller’s voice cuts through the alarms in your mind, reminding you of why you’re doing this in the first place. 
You fight to take a deep breath in, your breath catching and hitching in your chest. It almost hurts as you let it out, your lungs still trying to push air through rapidly. You continue to fight through the thoughts and instincts, through the natural reaction to panic about a threat that’s not even there. You’re in Dr. Keller’s office, sitting on the floor with her, trying to learn to balance your instincts. 
Slowly you begin to gain control over your breathing, easing the ache in your lungs as you take deep breaths in and let slow breaths out. The instincts begin to calm, the rational part of your brain beginning to return as you become aware of the thoughts and emotions swirling in your head. 
“Good.” Dr. Keller says, releasing your arms. 
You’re shaking just a bit as the instincts begin to ease away, the threat fading. You open your eyes, still breathing deeply as the swirling thoughts in your mind start to die down. Your shoulders have relaxed, the need to protect your neck fading away. 
“Good job.” Dr. Keller says, smiling at you. “It will take a lot of practice to master, but now you know you can do it. It’s not foolproof, there will be times where the situation is too much, but this can help keep incidents to a minimum.” 
“Thank you.” You say, looking at her, emotions starting to rise again in you. Not ones of fear or panic, though. Quite the opposite, in fact. “For everything you've done. When I first got here, I wasn't even a person. I was just a title, a status. But you and my pack have helped change that, have helped me realize I'm an actual person, not just an omega.” 
“Good.” She says, smiling softly at you. “I'm glad you're starting to unlearn the things society has taught you, and I'm glad we've been able to help you in that journey.” She takes your hand, squeezing it gently. “You are far more than your status, far more than what you can do for someone else. You are a wonderful human who has managed to keep such kindness despite everything you've been through.” 
A smile tugs at your lips, tears burning behind your eyes. “You really think that?”
“I know it.” She says, squeezing your hand again before letting it go. “Come on, let's get you back to the barracks before lunch.” 
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Breathing. That's the most important part. Just focus on your breath. 
If only it were that easy. 
You've been up since 3 AM, a painful ache throbbing in your lower belly. Your thighs are slick, your breaths coming in quiet pants from the intensity of the need pulsing through you. It's only gotten worse as the minutes have slowly ticked by. Breathing through it hasn't helped any, and neither has shoving your hand into your pajama pants. 
You huff out an exasperated breath, reaching for your phone. Your eyes scan the contacts, trying to decide who will be best to ask. You let out a breath, your finger hovering over the number of the only other person that might be up at this hour, who will be up soon regardless.
You type out the quick text, holding your breath as you click send. 
I need you. 
Your phone buzzes almost immediately with a reply. 
Come here. 
It was like he could almost sense it, waiting for you to reach out, to ask. You throw the blankets off you, leaving your phone on your nightstand and even forgoing slippers as you make for your door, blinking against the brightness in the hallway as you pad down the hall to his door.  
You knock softly before pushing it open, stepping into the darkness. It takes you a moment to adjust after the bright fluorescents in the hallway, blinking the spots in your vision away before you can make out the soft light coming from a phone screen. 
You make your way over to the bed, the body shifting to make room as you approach. You hear the deep inhale, the quiet groan as you drop your sleep pants before climbing in next to him. 
“Christ, what's got you so worked up?” His voice rumbles, a hand trailing down your side. 
“Dunno.” You say, leaning into his touch. “Woke up like this. Can't get it to stop.”
There's a quiet rustle of fabric before he's leaning down to kiss you, lips slightly chapped as they move against your own. The hand on your side drifts downward, hiking your thigh up before he slips lower, palming you over your panties. 
“Fucking hell, soaked right through.” He groans against your lips, holding his hand still as you grind against his palm. “Needy little thing.” 
“Please,” You whine, nipping at his lips. “Please.”
He curses, pushing the fabric to the side before pressing two fingers into you. They slide right in, aided by the copious slick and your own attempt to ease the ache. 
You groan quietly against his lips, his mouth moving down your throat, sucking marks into your skin to match the fading ones. Your arms wrap around his neck, holding him there as he slowly fucks you with his fingers. It’s not enough, your pussy clenching around his fingers in search of something else. Something more. 
You grind down on his hand, the ache in your belly intensifying. “Need you,” You whimper, your thighs clenching around his hand. “Please...Please Simon.” 
He groans against your throat before pulling his fingers from you, rolling over so you're on top of him. He lifts his hips, your hands gripping his sides for leverage so you don’t fall off as he pulls his sleep pants down until his cock is free, already hard and you haven't even touched him. You settle back on top of him as he lowers himself back onto the bed, your clothed slit settling over his cock. 
You drag your hips back and forth a couple times, moaning as the heat of his cock pulses through the dampness of your panties. Sweat has begun to bead on your skin and you tug your shirt off, dropping it onto the floor beside the bed. You stare at him, or at least where you assume his face is. You can’t see much, the room nearly pitch black except for the small bit of light coming in through the window. It sends a shiver down your spine, your omega begging for some kind of light, something to ease the vulnerability the darkness threatens. 
Hands grip your thighs, fingers digging into your skin. You’re brought back to reality, back into the moment. You’re sitting on top of Simon’s cock, hands pressed into his stomach. Despite the vulnerabile position, you’re hardly in danger of what the darkness might be hiding. Simon knows, he’d know even in this position. Alphas are always aware of their surroundings, always ready for a threat, especially in the presence of an omega. Nothing could ever hurt you with him this close. 
You swallow the nervous lump in your throat, easing the fear away as you take a couple deep breaths in and out. Breathing. That’s the key. 
You lift yourself up tugging your panties to the side as you grab his cock with the other hand. You drag his head through your dripping folds a couple of times before lining him up and sinking down onto his cock 
The stretch has your legs shaking. Despite having taken him before, it's almost too much at this angle. The sensations have your mind going blank, forcing every last thought except for Simon and his cock out of your mind. You begin to rock your hips, sinking down on him with every press downward. Your hands brace against his stomach, feeling the flex of his muscles under you as he fights to control himself, as he fights to let you keep control as you sink down onto him fully, sitting nestled against his hips. 
You both curse at the feeling, his grip on your thighs tightening as you give yourself a minute to breathe. 
Just breathe. Focus on your breathing. 
Simon rolls his hips up, your breath catching in your throat. Your nails dig into his stomach, all thought of control going out the window as you begin to move, bouncing yourself on his cock. 
He guides your movements with his hands, lifting his hips to meet your thrusts. You're trying to be quiet, but you can't help the moans and whines being pulled from your lips. You don't want to wake the others, draw them from their precious sleep, something you had been trying to avoid. 
Simon muffles a particularly loud moan by shoving two of his fingers in your mouth, the two that had been inside you. You can taste yourself on his skin, your tongue lapping at the two digits. 
You're going to cum soon, your thighs squeezing around his hips. Despite the fact it's only been a couple of days, the pent up frustration of constantly being horny and not being able to do anything about it has you teetering over the edge from just a few rolls of your hips and the stretch of his cock. 
His other hand moves to your clit, rubbing tight circles over the pulsing bud. It's too much, the sensations in your body and the relief of the ache inside you. You cum with a cry around his fingers, your body shuddering with pleasure. He plants his feet on the bed, thrusting up into you as he chases his own high. 
He spills into you, groaning as he makes a mess of your pussy. He yanks you down against his chest, still hard inside you, his hips rolling as he continues to thrust into you. 
You don't have to see his face to know you're nowhere near done. For once he's going to follow in Johnny's footsteps, trading his morning workout for a different one. 
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“Christ almighty, ye look like an animal got a hold of ye.” Johnny says, gripping your chin as he turns your head back and forth, his eyes scanning every mark on your skin, the old fading ones and the new ones from this morning. 
“I think one did.” Kyle says, pulling the collar of your shirt down to check for more. 
“Don’t worry, I bit him back.” You shrug. 
They both pause, sharing a look before looking back to you. 
“Did ye now?” Johnny says, releasing your chin. 
“Yup. Made him bleed.” You say nonchalantly. 
“Bloody hell.” Kyle says, releasing the collar of your shirt. 
“Feisty little thing.” Johnny says, going to poke your nose but you turn, snapping at his finger instead. 
Kyle chuckles as Johnny yanks his hand away before your teeth can close around his finger. “Don’t know what you expected, mate.” He says with a smirk. 
You lean over, sinking your teeth into Johnny’s shoulder playfully. “You’re very biteable.” 
“Am I?” He smirks, tugging you closer. “Only problem is,” He pulls your shirt collar to the side. “I bite back.” 
His teeth sink into the skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder, biting until you let out a quiet sound. He releases you, dragging his tongue across the new mark on your skin. Kyle presses up against your back, trapping you between the two of them. 
“Easy.” Kyle says, pressing a kiss to your new bite mark. “Gonna make Simon think it's a competition.” His hand settles on your waist, slowly sliding higher and higher as he presses kisses across your shoulders. 
Your scent intensifies in the air as heat begins to pool between your thighs. You squirm on the couch, seeking out relief from the ache between your legs. It’s been a steady pulsing since this morning despite the thorough fucking Simon had given you. 
“Fucking hell.” Johnny groans, shoving you back into Kyle’s chest before undoing the button of your pants, ripping them off your legs and tossing them to the floor. 
He pushes your legs up until they’re almost pressed against your chest before shouldering his way between them. You let out a quiet groan as your sore muscles are stretched, pushed into what’s becoming a very familiar position. Johnny lets your thighs drop onto his shoulders, relieving some of the ache as his hands grip your ass, holding your hips up. 
Your lips part in a gasp as he presses his face against your underwear, inhaling deeply. A long, low groan falls from his lips as your thick scent goes straight to his head. He laps at your underwear, adding to the dampness already soaking into the fabric. Kyle’s arms wrap around you, holding you still as Johnny mouths at your pussy through your underwear. 
A thrill runs through you at the thought of him eating you out on the rec room couch where anyone could walk in and see. It won’t take long for your scent to waft through the barracks, for John and Simon to realize what’s going on. All they’d have to do is walk down the hall and stand in the doorway to watch their betas make you cum. What would Simon think seeing Johnny’s head between your thighs for the first time, instead of just hearing about it? Would he lose control? Would he snap and tear Johnny away so he could fuck you again himself? Or would he hold Johnny’s head between your thighs until he makes you cum before he makes Johnny fuck you while he takes Johnny from behind? 
“Shit.” You gasp, clinging to Kyle’s arms as warmth rushes through you, forcing slick to gush from your pussy. 
Johnny moans lewdly, shoving your panties to the side before slurping at the slick dribbling from your hole. A shudder runs through you as you finally feel his mouth against your skin, your head tilting back against Kyle’s shoulder. 
“Feel good?” Kyle asks, his breath fanning your ear. 
“Uh huh.” You nod as Johnny’s tongue flicks through your folds. “Fuck, feels so good.” 
Johnny groans against your pussy, his hips rutting against the couch. You wonder if he can taste Simon on you, the three loads he dumped into your pussy this morning. You’d showered, but you know scents linger in other areas longer than others. 
You watch the flexing of Johnny’s ass as he grinds against the couch cushion, rocking his hips desperately for friction. You wouldn’t complain if Johnny bent you in half and fucked you right here. You’d take both of them happily if it means the aching in your core is eased just slightly. 
Kyle’s hand slips between your legs, gripping Johnny by the mohawk. He groans against your pussy, the sound vibrating through you. “Make her cum with your mouth and I’ll suck you off.” 
Johnny lets out a moan that would make most porn stars jealous before he eagerly slurps at your clit. The sound is wet and depraved, but you don’t care, your hips pressing against his mouth in search of more. He eats you like a man starved, slurping your slick like he’s parched and it’s the only thing that can ease his thirst. You’re a trembling mess in Kyle’s arms, hips grinding against Johnny’s face as you get closer and closer to your orgasm. 
“Gonna cum on his tongue? Gonna give him what he wants?” Kyle groans in your ear, fingers plucking at your nipples through your shirt. 
The sensations are almost too much, your thighs trembling around Johnny’s head. Kyle pinches your nipple as Johnny sucks hard at your clit, your orgasm hitting you like a runaway train. Your thighs clamp around Johnny’s head, smothering him against your pussy as you let out a high pitched whine. You’re not sure he can breathe, but you doubt he’d complain about dying from suffocation in this position. 
Johnny continues to lap at your pussy as you shake in the aftershocks of your orgasm. It’s nearing overstimulation, a whine leaving your lips as you push at Johnny’s head. Kyle sinks his fingers into Johnny’s mohawk again, letting you flop back against the couch as he hauls Johnny to his feet. 
Their lips meet in a sloppy kiss, all tongue and teeth as Kyle licks your slick from Johnny’s face, tasting you in his mouth. Your body is thrumming, pussy still fluttering as you watch them. Your lips part as Kyle sinks to his knees in front of Johnny, palming at the prominent bulge in his pants. You watch with bated breath as Kyle tugs Johnny’s pants down, Johnny’s hard, weeping cock springing free. 
Kyle wraps his hand around the base, slowly jerking Johnny’s cock a couple of times. Johnny’s eyes are blown as he stares down at Kyle, lips parted as he pants softly. His flushed face is still shiny from your slick and Kyle’s tongue, looking like the symbol of lust and depravity. You all look like it, Kyle kneeling on the floor with Johnny’s cock in hand and you laying on the couch almost half naked, bearing witness to the intimate event about to transpire. 
Kyle leans forward, dragging his tongue across Johnny’s tip, collecting the precum dripping from his engorged head. Your teeth sink into your lip as Kyle takes Johnny’s cock in his mouth, slowly sinking down his length. It’s warm in the rec room, and you're surprised there’s no steam on the windows from the heat radiating off the three of you. 
Kyle pulls back until just the tip of Johnny’s cock is in his mouth before sinking down again, taking him fully into his mouth. Johnny is panting, one hand holding the back of Kyle’s head, the other resting on Kyle’s hand where he’s holding Johnny’s hips. Kyle bobs his head on Johnny’s cock, and you can see the strain in Johnny’s body, muscles tensed as he tries to keep control, tries to keep himself from fucking into Kyle’s mouth. 
You shift on the couch, turning on your side to watch the debauched scene in front of you. Drool leaks out the side of Kyle’s mouth as he takes even more of Johnny’s cock in his mouth, his nose almost touching the trail of dark hair on Johnny’s stomach. Drool nearly seeps out of your own mouth as you watch them, so focused and in tune with each other. Johnny’s close, you can tell by the way his breathing has changed, how strong his scent is in the air. 
“Fucking, just like tha’.” Johnny moans, his accent thickening as he loses control of himself. “Feels so fucking good.” 
You stare at Kyle, your eyes dropping to the prominent bulge in his pants. An idea forms in your mind as you push yourself off the couch, slipping behind Kyle to kneel on the cool floor. The tile feels good against your heated skin, the pressure on your kneecaps forgotten as you reach around Kyle’s body, undoing his pants. You reach into his boxers, pulling his cock free. It’s hard and heavy in your hand, the thought of him being aroused just from watching you getting eaten out and sucking Johnny’s cock making your pussy pulse. Kyle lets out a groan as you begin to jerk his cock, the sound vibrating into Johnny, an echoing moan leaving Johnny’s lips. 
A string of curses fills the air from Johnny, his fingers digging into the back of Kyle’s head. “Do tha’ again.” 
You jerk Kyle’s cock in time with his own movements on Johnny’s cock, resting against his back as you watch them both. Kyle continues to moan around Johnny’s cock, his own twitching in your hand. 
“Fuck...” Kyle groans, pulling off of Johnny’s cock for a second. He continues to pump Johnny’s length as he leans back against you, his hips thrusting into your hand. 
“Feel good?” You murmur in his ear, pausing to squeeze your hand around the base of his cock. “Make Johnny cum with your mouth and I’ll let you cum.” 
Kyle groans, his free hand releasing Johnny’s hip to squeeze your thigh before he takes Johnny into his mouth again. 
“Gonnae cum.” Johnny moans, unable to stop his hips from rocking, fucking his cock into Kyle’s mouth. 
You pump Kyle’s cock faster, his hips jerking as he gets closer and closer to the edge. He lets out a long moan around Johnny’s cock, Johnny letting out one of his own as his hips jerk almost violently. His head tilts back, mouth open as he cums in Kyle’s mouth, his fingers closing around Kyle’s wrists. 
Kyle releases Johnny’s cock, shifting slightly so he can tilt his head back towards you and you know exactly what he wants. You lean over his shoulder, pressing your lips to his. Kyle passes some of Johnny’s cum to you on his tongue, the fluid salty and slightly bitter on your own tongue. You continue to kiss Kyle, drool and cum slipping down your chins as you jerk his cock faster, bringing him closer and closer to the edge. 
“Fucking christ.” Johnny curses, watching the two of you as he tucks his cock back into his pants. 
Kyle spills on your hand and the floor, moaning into your mouth as he squeezes your thigh. He pulls away from your lips, lifting your hand to his mouth to lick his own cum off your skin. 
Johnny lets out another string of curses you can’t even begin to try and translate as he watches you both. “Gonnae be the death of me.” 
You let out a laugh as you lean your head on Kyle’s shoulder, just catching a dark shadow moving away from the rec room door out of the corner of your eye. 
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Your bare feet pad silently against the cold tile as you make your way down the hallway. You shiver in the cool air of the barracks, the plain white walls offering no warmth against your bare skin. The door is cracked open but you knock anyway, not wanting to just barge in. 
“Enter.” The gruff voice calls from the other side of the door. 
You push the door open, slipping in before closing it behind you. You pad over to the desk, rubbing your eyes. 
“Hi sweetheart.” John says, leaning back in his chair to stare up at you. “You’re up late.” 
“Couldn’t sleep.” You say, moving around the desk to stand in front of him. “Missed you.” 
He sits back as you crowd into his space, straddling the chair before sitting yourself comfortably on his lap. He grunts quietly as you flop down, wrapping your arms around his neck. He shifts you just slightly, his hands resting on your bare thighs. 
You press your hips against him, resting your head against your arm as you try to get as close to him as you can. His fingers dig into your thighs for a moment before they slowly slip up under your baggy shirt. They rise higher and higher until they’re cupping your ass, squeezing your cheeks for a moment. 
“You forgot your knickers.” He says, tilting his head closer to your ear. 
You shrug, pressing your face into his neck. “Too uncomfortable.” 
He hums, picking up the arousal quickly fogging the air in the small office. “Needy little thing, huh.” He groans as you push your hips down against him. 
You let out a quiet sound, licking at his neck. “You’re the only one that hasn’t made me cum yet today.” 
His hands leave your ass, pushing you back so he can stare at your face. He cups your cheeks, staring up into your eyes. “You’re exhausted.” He says, his thumbs brushing the puffy skin beneath your eyes. 
You pout, pressing your hips closer to him. “But I need it.” You lean your head down on his shoulder. “I feel like I’m in heat.” 
“Simon has that effect on people.” He says, adjusting your position on his lap again. 
You grind down against him again, smearing your wetness on his pants. Your pussy feels raw and swollen from the events of the day, yet you can’t help the neediness, the desperation pulsing through you. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, every nerve ending alive and desperately seeking relief from the arousal pulsing through you. 
“Please, alpha.” You whine, fingers curling into his shirt. “Need you.” 
John sighs but he relents, lifting you up slightly so he can undo his pants. You lick your lips in anticipation as he frees his half hard cock, pumping it a couple times before pressing the head against your slit. You grind down against it, whimpering as it catches on your clit. 
“Easy.” He scolds you, guiding his cock to your hole, easing you down onto it. It’s only half hard, but it slides in easily thanks to your arousal. 
You let out a whine at the stretch, your legs shaking as John lowers you until you’re seated in his lap again, his cock buried fully inside of you. You clench around him, your body finally beginning to relax as you sit on your alpha’s cock. 
“I’m busy.” He says, pushing his chair back up to his desk. “Make yourself cum.” 
Your pussy clenches around him as he goes back to his work, your hips starting to rock back and forth. Your teeth sink into your lip at the sensation of his cock moving inside you, your fingers digging into his shoulders. He pays you no mind as he continues to work, his indifference stirring something inside you as you plant your feet onto the floor, pushing yourself up on his cock. 
Despite his attempts at keeping focused on his work, he can’t hide the quiet groans leaving his lips as you bounce on his lap, fucking yourself on his cock. It’s thrilling, his disinterest in what you’re doing, allowing you to use him, to take what you need. You had spent years expecting it to be the other way around, for your alpha to use you whenever he wanted, to be forced to spread your legs anywhere at any time when he got in the mood. 
Sure, you do that now, but it’s because you want to. You want to fuck your pack like an animal, you want them to take you when they feel the need, you want them to ease the ache that’s settled into your body now that the connection between the five of you has begun to change, to develop. 
This, though, this is different as you use John’s cock for your own pleasure, clinging to him as you desperately seek relief. He doesn't even have his hands on you, typing away at his computer instead, fully focused on his work. How he’s doing it, you’re not sure, though you suppose he has to be very good at staying focused even in the most distracting moments. 
You clench around him, circling your hips on his lap as you try to get a reaction out of him. He offers you nothing but quiet grunts and groans, not even looking at you as you fuck yourself on his cock. 
You lean forward, sinking your teeth into his earlobe. He finally reacts, letting out a grunt from the pain. His arm wraps around your waist, squeezing your side until you relent.
“Fucking minx.” He groans, keeping his arm locked around your back. “Gonna make yourself cum? Make a mess of my cock?” 
You whine, legs straining as you continue to bounce on his length, his cock hard and pulsing inside of you. He’s close too, you can tell by the way his breathing has picked up, by the low growls rumbling in his chest. 
You shift your hips again, moaning at the way his cock brushes against that spot inside you at this angle. You’re tempted to lift yourself up, to try and replicate the party trick Simon had shown you, but you’re too tired for that, too desperate to cum as soon as possible. You’re shaking, barely able to move as you push closer and closer to your orgasm, John’s arm around your back starting to move you, to give you support as you chase your high. You are exhausted, your body aching. Your pussy is sore from Simon this morning, your knees aching from kneeling on the rec room floor, your thighs burning from the exertion of riding both alphas in your pack in one day. 
You fall against John’s chest as you cum, slick coating his cock as you finally reach your release. You tremble in his arms as he shifts his hips under you, bucking up into you a few more times before he cums himself, spilling into you. You moan as his warmth fills you, cock twitching inside your aching pussy. 
You go to lift yourself off John’s lap but he forces you back down, pushing his cock and his release back inside you. You let out a whine at the feeling, your pussy fluttering around him. 
“You wanted my cock so badly,” He growls in your ear, his arm still hooked around your back. “Then you can sit here on it until I’m done.” 
You let out a quiet whine, legs squeezing around his hips as he releases you, returning to his work again. You lay your head on his shoulder, breathing deeply as you focus on the feeling of his softening cock inside you. His cum is slowly sliding out around his cock, your hips twitching every so often as you try to ignore the feeling of him buried inside you. 
A shaky breath leaves your lips as you sit there, clinging to him as the ache between your legs finally starts to fade, eased away by your alpha’s cock buried inside your pussy. 
NEXT ->
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servicpop · 4 months ago
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you've got a fetish for my love gym rat satoru & suguru x bottom male reader
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"That's wraps, let's go take a shower Suguru I'm sweaty as hell."
The weights nestled on the bar slinked off as Suguru placed them back on the rack. A few tiring hours of bench presses, deadlifts, and other workouts were done on repeat until the men eventually felt that ache in their muscles that told them to stop.
"Right, I think we're done for today," Suguru hummed, gripping his water bottle and taking a quick chug of water before chucking it into his gym bag, zipping it up and walking to the showers before Satoru could even get himself packed up. Suguru was first to enter, pushing the doors to the men's shower rooms aside to place his bag down at the bench.
Steam billowed through one of the open stalls but Suguru brushed it off, it was an ungodly hour to be at the gym currently. One downside about these gym stalls were that the doors were practically non-existant, replaced by a raggedy plastic curtain that swayed with every slight movement. Guess the gym splurged all their money on the equipment and fancy parts of the interior rather than the bathrooms.
Suguru's eyes flickered down to the unaccompanied bag at the corner of the bench. It was yours, he recognised it from the key chain you placed on the zips to identify your bag.
"Suguru why didn't you wait—" Satoru burst into the shower rooms, complaints already stringing out of his lips, "Look, Satoru," Suguru pointed out, pointing at your bag and to the stall that had steam coming out of it.
"Oh, well he can fit two right?" Satoru chuckled, his chest rising and falling from the laugh, "Well he has done it before." That earned a nudge to the head by Suguru — who clearly didn't appreciate the sexual innuendo. "Well, if you don't wanna join me, I'll be going first," Satoru shrugged, peeling off his black shirt that clung to his body from all the sweat, and his pants, tossing it aside before he brutally ripped the shower curtain aside.
You had just finished some light cardio, something to get your body energised and your dopamine levels running. You chose an early morning to go to the gym, wanting to avoid stripping naked infront of other buff and sweaty men and the sheer awkwardness of squeezing past boisterous conversations as you try to find yourself an empty stall.
You thought you were safe, but when are you really when Satoru Gojo is pursuing you? The shower curtain ripping open pulled a yelp from deep inside your heart, goosebumps covering your skin. When the familiar tuffs of white hair came into your view, there was only one person who would intrude on your space like this.
"Cmon 'Toru, you're gonna give this poor man a heart attack one day," Suguru sighed, appearing beside Satoru. Now both of the men were crowding your space, the water still cascading down your back. They were both glistening with sweat, the evidence of a hard workout there.
"Hey, why didn't you tell us you were at the gym today?" Satoru feigned a sad puppy-dog pout, his hands finding their way to where your waist met your hips. He squeezed the soft flesh there, humming contently; it was something he loved about you, your body was just right.
"Thought you guys were busy," You mumbled, your eyes tracing Suguru's calm movements as he slipped past Satoru and placed himself behind you, chest against your back. "Doesn't mean you can't shoot us a message," Suguru cooed, coiling his fingers in your hair as he pressed lightly against your lower back.
"I second that," Satoru chuckled, his fingers traced circles on your belly, "Since you won't workout with us in the gym... you can 'work out' with us in here," He grinned, leaning in to nip a kiss at your nose before his hands met your cock. Your whole body jolted at the sudden touch, and Suguru held your biceps, squeezing you slightly as a reassurance. You could feel Suguru's hands dip down to your ass, kneading the fat there before he spat on his own dick, rubbing it against your puckered hole to smear his make-shift lube.
"Ah, shit you make me so hard," Satoru grumbled, his pearly whites hooked on his baby pink lip, using his spare hand to jerk himself off while slipping his thumb over your tip. "This is kinda lewd, hey?" He groaned — a smirk plastered all over his face — "Both your boyfriends fucking you in the showers of a public gym." Satoru's fingers wrapped around himself and yours, bringing both your dicks together into his hand.
"We both know this is a sick fantasy of yours, 'Toru" Suguru retorted, slowly pushing himself into you with a low groan. His fingers twitched on your back, the pads of his fingers digging into your skin as he watched yourself stretch to accommodate for his size, "Shit, you really do know how to take us, huh?"
"W–wait," You gasped, your palms flushing against Satoru's chest, you couldn't tell if that was water on him or sweat. Satoru turned a blind ear to your pleas, rolling his hips against yours as he kept his fist clenched, forcing your cocks to grind together. The stimulation from the front and the back was enough to get your knees going limp.
"Don't give out on us yet, prince," Suguru cooed gently into your ear, nudging himself in just a little deeper before pulling all the way out and slamming back in. "Oh fuck," Suguru moaned, his thick fingers clawed at your hips. Like he got the sudden motivation seeing Suguru so drunk on your insides, Satoru sped up his hands, pumping the both of you. You could feel every twitch and vein bulging against your own length, he was close.
"Shitshitshitshit, I think I'm gonna cum," Satoru whined, thrusting up into his hand, chasing that sweet release, ""Gonna make a mess outta you," He sputtered, his hand squelched with every stroke. Suguru stayed quiet, but your ears were more trained to him. Every soft groan or stutter in breath from Suguru didn't go unnoticed, he was practically panting in your ear.
Stretching you out like you were elastic was something Suguru took pride in taking his time to do. He knew he found your sweet spot when your hips jerked, squirming in their shared grasp, "Stay still f'me," He whispered, linking his muscular forearm right underneath your chest.
It was all too much, your eyes flitted up to meet Satoru's blue ones, his white eyelashes covered most of the blue since he was so focused on your body and his mouth was agape, short breaths coming out. His once spiky hair was now down, stuck to his forehead from the mixture of sweat and water. Your brain alternated focus from the two men so quickly you found yourself in a daze trying to keep up.
"Hah, look at you, your face looks so fucked out," Satoru teased, leaning in to catch your tongue hanging from your mouth and pulled you in for a wet kiss. You felt his dick pulse a few times before he moaned into your mouth, shooting out a load onto your stomach while you followed closely after him. It was a mix of both your messes, "It's like making slime," Satoru laughed, carding his fingers through his hair.
"You're ruining the moment, Satoru," Suguru groaned at Satoru's childish behaviours — did this man ever grow up? "My bad, Sugu, want me to help you?" Satoru grinned, pulling your upper body towards him and planting your head onto his shoulder. He let your head rest in the crook of his collarbone before his arms reached down to your ass, spreading you apart for Suguru.
"Thanks," Suguru gruffly murmured. He bent down slight so he could reach even deeper, pistoning his hips against your ass. You cried out onto Satoru's shoulder, the knot growing in your stomach for a second time. "Good job baby, look you're taking Suguru's dick so well," Satoru whistled watching as Suguru's cock get enveloped by your hole.
"He's so tight I think I might snap in half," Suguru groaned, his hair falling off his shoulders and barley reached your back. Suguru hissed when you clenched down a bit more, your warm gummy walls milked his cock. "Take it all baby, you deserve it," He purred, burying himself to the hilt before je orgasmed, painting your insides with his semen.
Suguru's palm loosened on your hips, trailing down to your stomach and rubbed it gently, "Good boy." Satoru laughed, bringing his hands back up to ruffle your hair, "Enough cardio? Alright, let's get you actually cleaned up before you turn into a rasin from all the water."
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a / n ; not proof read as always TT also my first time writing a threesome ! I left Satoru and Suguru's relationship open , I know some people are more into that love ... arrow ?
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oddinary4bts · 7 months ago
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Chasing Cars | ch 1 (jjk)
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☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?
☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Hoseok x female!reader
☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)
☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff
☆warnings: alcohol, curses, jungkook is lowkey a cocky asshole but we love him, mentions of ghosting (reader to Hoseok), mentions of frosh week, mentions of Nabi spraining her ankle, a frat party, beer pong, Sam Hwang, peach, explicit content: overhearing someone having sex, female masturbation, sex toy (vibrator), praising, nipple play, hickeys, dom!Hoseok, sub!reader, degradation, Hoseok likes being called sir (lmao), whip (sorta, with a belt), choking (with a belt), safe word, oral sex (male receiving), mouth fucking, balls fondling, jerking off, spitting in the other's mouth, Hoseok does not believe in aftercare (rip)
☆word count: 11.8k
☆a/n: CHAPTER ONE!! LET'S GET THIS JOURNEY STARTED BABY!!! thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3
☆series masterpost
☆add yourself to the taglist here!
☆☆☆☆☆
If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol
☆☆☆☆☆
Thursday, January 17th 
If there is one thing you’ve figured about Jeon Jungkook, it’s that he is an insufferable prick, yet an endearing one. As your older brother’s best friend, Jungkook has taken a liking to teasing you, treating you like his own little sister. It was weird at first – the day you  met him, you were struck by his looks. Who wouldn’t be? Jungkook is tall, has a sleeve of tattoos, and he rocks an eyebrow and two lip piercings. 
It took you all but three days to realize that he is a too full of himself asshole. And had you known what you were signing up for when Taehyung suggested that you move in with him when his friend Jimin moved out to live with his girlfriend, maybe you wouldn’t have accepted.
You love Taehyung. He’s an incredible brother, has always taken care of you when you were younger and your mother was never home to do so. You love him enough that you didn’t mind moving in with him even though there was a third party you didn’t know.
Jungkook, that is.
It’s been months now. Months of living with Jungkook, of waking up to his insufferable smirk and even worse teasing, whenever Taehyung is not around. Because, of course, when your brother is here Jungkook is an angel, never once saying anything to you that could be taken the wrong way.
Thing is, Taehyung has always dreamed of studying abroad, in Paris. Has always wished to experience the French lifestyle, to wake up to eat croissants and gaze at the Eiffel Tower in the distance. So when he got the opportunity to do his winter semester over there, of course he jumped on the chance. 
You’ve been living alone in the same apartment as Jeon Jungkook for less than a month and you already wish May to be at your door and for Taehyung to come back.
It’s late. Sometime close to two am, and the bed creaking in the room next to yours, the one banging into the wall, has been keeping you up.
Or maybe the intermittent high-pitched clipped moans are what are keeping you up. Because, mind you, the walls of your apartment are paper-thin. So paper-thin sometimes you think you’re in Jungkook’s room while he’s ramming some girl he probably doesn’t even know the name of. Sometimes, you think you can almost picture him. Almost see the muscles of his back move under his skin as he jack-hammers into yet another girl, almost see his powerful thighs slap on hers each time he pushes in, almost see his fucked-out face when he comes with that loud grunt of his…
You miss Taehyung being around because Jungkook wasn’t as loud then. Still brought girls home every Thursday like clockwork, but made sure he wasn’t loud enough for the whole building to hear him. With Taehyung gone, Jungkook has stopped caring, and you have been suffering the consequences since then.
In truth, it hasn’t been that long. Less than three weeks, and you’ve heard Jungkook fuck like four times? You reckon it could be a lot worse… but he could also be respectful and not fuck people when you’re trying to sleep because you have a nine am class the next day.
The first time it happened, you were mortified. You listened to music, hoping you wouldn’t hear it anymore but, the thing is, his headboard bangs against the same wall your headboard is against. So you still felt it, and you suffered through the whole ordeal hoping you would disappear through the floor.
The second time it happened, you were annoyed. You considered knocking against the wall to tell him to shut the fuck up – or rather to tell the girl to shut the fuck up – but you resisted. Solely because you didn’t want to stir shit with Jungkook. You considered asking Taehyung to tell Jungkook to be more respectful, but it sounded childish and stupid so you eventually let it slide.
The third time it happened, you were… aroused. Maybe because it had been a long time since you had sex – the last time being in late November with Hoseok, a guy studying in the same major as you, though he’s Jungkook and Taehyung’s age. Yet, even though you felt aroused, you focused on all the ways you were going to murder Jungkook the next day.
Today… today the arousal is winning the game. It’s been making your heart run wild, and your grip on your sheets has your knuckles turning white, skin stretched taut over how hard you’re clenching your fists. 
And when you hear Jungkook say something that definitely sounds like “Good fucking girl”, you lose it. You’re too aroused, dripping from just hearing him, and you need to have the coil inside of you snap if you want to be able to sleep tonight.
With all the sounds emerging from his room, you doubt Jungkook is going to hear you. So you shamelessly rummage through the top drawer of your night table, searching for your vibrator, smiling in victory when your hand closes around it.
You’re wearing PJ shorts, and you quickly rid yourself of them as the girl lets out a short-clipped moan that makes you think you’re listening to porn, and not to your roommate fucking.
Though you reckon sex with Jungkook really does sound like porn.
You lie back in bed once you’re rid of your shorts, taking a hold of your vibrator. You turn it on, adjusting it to your favourite setting. You feel strange doing so, like you’re doing something you really shouldn’t be doing, but you can’t help it.
The second you press the vibrator on your clit, you forget all about how what you’re doing is wrong. All you can focus on is the pleasure that radiates through your body, and your eyes close tightly, images of Jungkook swirling in your brain.
When the girl moans again, and Jungkook tells her that she’s ‘taking it so well’, your free hand shoots to your breast, pinching your nipple through the fabric of your t-shirt. It’s not enough, and you’re quick to move it under the shirt. You pinch hard, and you let out a breathy sound as your thighs instinctively close on your wrist.
Jungkook’s headboard starts banging against the wall even more, and your brain produces an image of Jungkook between your legs, fucking you until all you can think is his name. It has you pushing your vibrator inside of you, and you lightly moan again at the pleasurable intrusion. 
You let go of your nipple, moving that hand to your clit instead, and your fingers expertly start drawing circles on it. You listen to Jungkook’s grunts all along, to the girl’s moans, and maybe you’re a little too blissed out to realize they’re done, but when you reach your high you can’t help the broken moan you let out, a little too loud for the paper-thin walls of your apartment.
As you’re coming down from your high, you realize the apartment is eerily silent, and you swallow the lump of awkwardness that’s formed in your throat. You wipe your vibrator with some tissue, knowing you’ll have to actually clean it on the morrow, but you don’t want to kill the silence of the night just so you can put your vibrator back in its hiding spot right away. 
But you’re not stupid, and you know you need a trip to the bathroom anyway. You put your PJ shorts back on, grab your phone to use it as a flashlight so you don’t bump into a wall on the way to the bathroom, and you tiptoe all the way over there, hoping to be as soundless as possible.
You have to walk in front of Jungkook’s room to get to the bathroom, and then halfway across the living room. You notice his door is closed on your way, and you peacefully make it all the way to the bathroom. You quickly pee and clean yourself up, washing your hands before you open the door.
Which, you reckon might have been your demise. Because when you open the door of the bathroom, it’s to let out a high-pitched startled yelp at the sight of a shirtless Jungkook on the other side. The sound of the faucet must have hidden his footsteps.
You stare at each other for a few seconds, and in the dim light, you’re pretty sure Jungkook is smirking.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks after the silence has started to stretch into awkwardness.
You clench your jaw, gaze dropping to the ground. “You were disturbing my sleep.”
He chuckles, cocking his head to the side. “Was I now?”
Your eyes shoot back to his face at the low huskiness of his tone, and you wish with all of your heart that you had the courage to punch him in the face. But you don’t, so all you reply is, “You need to start fucking your hookups somewhere else.”
His smirk falls into a pout. “I won’t go over to the girls’ places. But I can make sure they’re more silent next time.”
Your brain can’t help but wonder if he means ‘they’ as in he was fucking two girls or just they as in generally referring to a single person.
You obstinately remain silent for a moment, holding his gaze with surprising defiance. “Please do,” you finally choose to say, and the smirk makes its way back to his features.
“I promise,” he says, voice low once again, and you hate how it has something tightening inside of you once more. 
You hate it so much that you escape, wishing him good night as you walk around him. You feel the warmth of his body on the way, and you’re thinking about ways to stab him in the back when he says, “Sleep well, peach.”
Saturday, January 19th
You’ve taken to referring to last Wednesday night, or early Thursday morning, as The Incident. At least that’s what you call it when you talk about it with your friends, Ria and Nabi. Ria, who’s always had some sort of a crush on Jungkook is absolutely flabbergasted each time it’s mentioned, and Nabi thinks he’s proven that he’s the biggest asshole in college.
You relate to both, and mostly agree with Nabi. 
You’re supposed to go to some party later tonight. Ria convinced you to pre-drink at the girls’ dorm before you go, considering it’s closer to the party than your apartment, and the three of you are sitting in a circle on the floor, with music playing in the background. Needless to say, Nabi has been complaining ever since you got there, because she doesn’t usually do parties, and Ria is so excited she’s got you convinced that tonight will be the best night of your life.
Almost.
“Shots?” Ria asks as if you haven’t already taken two shots each.
She’s holding the bottle of tequila up, a red flush to her cheeks and mischief lighting her gaze. You don’t find it in you to say no, because you know that without the tequila Nabi is never going to make it to the party.
“Let’s do this,” you say, offering her a smirk as Nabi hides her face in her hands.
“You girls are going to kill me,” she complains. 
“Come on,” Ria says, playfully pushing her on the shoulder. “Maybe that cute guy you like is going to be there!”
Nabi has had a crush on someone from your major, Kim Namjoon, ever since you met her at the beginning of Frosh week last semester. He’s a tall guy, with dimples whenever he smiles, and you can see why she’d have a crush on him. Thing is, Namjoon has been dating someone ever since then, and Nabi has just been suffering in silence.
You still remember the moment you saw the crush bubble to life. It was day three of Frosh Week, and Namjoon was in charge of your team, along with Hoseok. You, Nabi, and three other first years were winning the relay race, figuring out the puzzles so quickly you had a good advance on the other teams. In a leap of happiness, Nabi jumped over a small stone wall on campus. One of her feet got tangled, and she ended up spraining her ankle.
Namjoon had been right by her side, asking her if she was okay. And Nabi has been in love with him ever since that day, though she’d never dare say it aloud.
“I don’t like anyone,” she grumbles, but the way her cheeks flush red is telling.
“Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon,” you singsong, offering her a shit eating grin. 
She retaliates by saying, “When’s the last time you’ve fucked Hobi? Didn’t you say he was the best lay of your life?”
Your mouth falls open in surprise, and Ria lets out a loud laugh.
“We stopped fucking in November, you know that!” you burst, feeling yourself turning crimson. “And it’s not like I have a crush on him, I stopped because it felt like he had a crush on me.”
Nabi has a winning smile on her lips. “And what’s so bad about that?”
“I mean…” you trail off, shrugging your shoulders. “The sex was good, but I didn’t feel like dating him. Simple as that.”
“Why not?” Ria asks, tequila forgotten. “You never told us.” She adds a pout to her sentence, trying to get you to explain.
There’s no explanation. You just didn’t feel like it. You tell them as much, but Nabi doesn’t buy it. Ria, on the other hand, lets out a sound that has both you and Nabi startling.
“I know why!” she explains.
You cock an eyebrow. “Why?”
“You live with fucking Jeon Jungkook, of course you don’t want to date Hobi. Especially after The Incident.”
You laugh, as it’s just as ridiculous as you expected it to be. “Not at all. Jungkook is Tae’s best friend.”
Both your friends look at you, as if what you said was the stupidest shit they ever heard.
“What?”
“What does it change?” Nabi asks with a small voice. 
“Well,” you let out, because you don’t really know. It’s just weird to you, and you don’t know how to explain it. “For one, I’m pretty sure Tae would kill him if he ever laid a finger on me.”
“Tae is in Paris,” Ria innocently says.
“Irrelevant,” you say, chuckling. “He’s going to be back in just a few months.”
“A lot can happen in a few months,” she adds, wiggling her brows suggestively.
You roll your eyes before reaching out between the two of you. “Give me the tequila.”
“I’ll fuck him if you don’t,” she teases, and she cradles the tequila to her chest. “As a matter of fact, maybe I’ll try to fuck him tonight.”
“Have fun!” is all you answer before making grabby hands at her. “Now, give me the alcohol, let’s get plastered before we get there so we don’t have to drink the crappy frat booze.”
*****
The frat house hosting the party is wild. Has always been – you’ve always found they go too far with most of their parties. But they also host the most memorable parties, and you know tonight will be a blast the moment you set in to see the strung LED light, shining different patterns of colours around the main room. A table in the corner is stacked high with every bottle of hard alcohol imaginable, and there are three coolers you assume are holding beer or something of the sorts. 
One of the guys – Dave? – shows you three where you can leave your coats, on a bed in the upstairs bedroom, and then he walks you to the alcohol table, offering to pour you some shots.
Nabi giggles, because by the time you left their dorm, she got quite drunk, claiming she needed it if she were to run into Namjoon after what you and Ria had said. She accepts the shot she’s handed, though half of it has spilled on her hand by the time the guy gives you yours. He puts salt on your hands, carefully, as Ria makes fun of Nabi, and you look around, scanning the crowd. You recognize a few people from your class, along with the usual party crowd of your college. You smile at two guys you’ve spoken to before at least once, before resuming your attention on Dave (?) as he hands you a slice of lemon.
When the four of you are ready, you lick the salt, knock back the shot, and then bite in the lemon to chase the taste of tequila away. It’s cheap tequila, and even with lemon the taste lingers while you prepare vodka cranberries for you and your friends. And though Ria loves dancing, you and Nabi win as you choose to head to the kitchen, where you know the music isn’t usually as loud.
The first thing you notice when you enter the kitchen is the beer pong table in the middle. Jeon Jungkook is currently playing, along with Jimin, another of your brother’s friends. As he sees you, Jimin raises his glass, offering you a wide grin, and then he punches Jungkook in his side before motioning to you.
Jungkook notices you then, and he offers you a smirk as he eyes you up and down. You feel shy for half a beat, though you know you look good. You’re wearing a green corset along with a pair of black leather pants, and you know the two pieces of clothing hug your body perfectly. Plus, Ria did your makeup, and Ria never fails when it comes to makeup. So you wait as Jungkook looks at you, hoping the foundation Ria put on your face is thick enough for him not to see you blush as The Incident inevitably comes back to your mind.
You look away, and then you see Hoseok hovering by glass sliding doors, along with Namjoon and their other friend Yoongi. Hoseok is busy with a conversation, and when he bursts out laughing you can hear it clear as day.
Why didn’t you want to date him? You don’t know. You actually really don’t know, because he ticks off all the boxes. But something was missing, you presume, and sometimes you hate yourself for it.
He must have sensed your attention, and he turns his head towards you. You don’t miss the way his smile falls a little, and he nods once in recognition. When you smile, his mouth closes to offer you one of those awkward tight-lipped smiles, and your gaze drops away to the cup in your hand.
Of course, Ria has a nefarious plan in mind, because she hooks her arm with yours and Nabi’s, pulling you towards the trio of guys. You’re fully aware that it’s mostly for Nabi, and that it’s stupid because last you’ve heard, Namjoon is still dating his girlfriend, but you let your friend pull you towards the men, gaze still stubbornly hiding in your cup.
You watch the liquid slosh around as you stop in front of them, and Namjoon greets you. Hoseok falls eerily silent, and Yoongi asks you all how you’ve been doing.
You only join in the conversation when you’ve taken a long sip from your cup to ease your nerves. Not that it really helped, but you reckon just standing there in silence would probably make things more awkward than anything else.
“Nabi is pretty drunk,” Ria is saying when you finally look up from the cup. 
“Am not!” Nabi insists, voice slurred. “Or maybe just a little.”
Namjoon laughs, while Yoongi chuckles. “As long as you don’t fall and sprain your ankle again, I think you’re alright.”
“Won’t fall again,” Nabi promises. “Not with these two with me.” She says that motioning to you and Ria, and it somehow brings Namjoon’s attention to you.
“I saw your essay on the synthesis and control of energy metabolism,” he tells you, a dimpled smile on display. “It was pretty good.”
You can’t help but slide your eyes to Nabi, who wrote a far better essay on human health and bacteriophage in your opinion, and you don’t miss the way her gaze drops to the ground.
“Thanks,” you reply to Namjoon nonetheless.
He’s started TA-ing to help out Seokjin, one of the biochemistry grad students. All of you are biology students, except Ria and Yoongi. Ria is in administration, and Yoongi studies music, his concentration being piano and producing.
There’s an awkward silence, and you glance towards Hoseok, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. He’s good-looking, even though he’s simply dressed in a T-shirt with some graphics on the front and a pair of discoloured jeans. Knowing him, he probably has a crazy jacket upstairs, because you know he’s good when it comes to fashion.
It’s what attracted you to him in the first place.
“How are you?” you ask him, and you notice Yoongi’s pointed gaze on you. It’s disapproving, you think, but the question left your mouth without you even wanting it to.
“I’ve been great,” Hoseok replies, though it’s a little colder than what you know him to be.
You nod, gaze dropping to the ground as Ria strikes a conversation with the three others, clearly trying to give you and Hoseok some space. It has the two of you just standing in aimless silence, until the sound of whooping behind you attracts your gaze to the beer pong table, where Jimin and Jungkook are celebrating a win. “I’m…” you trail off as you turn back to look at him. “I’m glad. How are your classes?”
He sighs. “They’re harder than first-year classes.”
You don’t miss the ghost of a teasing glint in his eyes, and you immediately latch onto it. “Oh, please, you struggled in molecular biology. I got A+ in the class.”
He chuckles, and you physically relax. Because you haven’t really talked since you ended things in November, finals coming in the way of partying and other events where you would run into him. So you didn’t know before today where you stood with him, and you’re relieved that he doesn’t seem like he’s holding a grudge.
“You weren’t in Lester’s class,” he points out. “Even Namjoon almost failed Lester’s class.”
You gasp in fake outrage. “No way! And now he’s the biochem TA.”
“I know,” Hoseok says, slightly shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”
The renewed complicity between the two of you is easy, you realize, and when he suggests playing a game of beer pong, you immediately agree. Or maybe you only agree because you don’t know where Nabi, Ria, Yoongi and Namjoon went, only that they aren’t next to you anymore.
 Jungkook and Jimin are still undefeated at the table, and when Jungkook catches sight of you moving closer, he winks before shooting.
You’re not surprised when the ball goes right in a cup, leaving only one on the table. Jimin laughs as their opponents claim Jungkook cheated, and Jungkook shrugs his shoulders.
“You should know better than to call me a cheater, bro,” Jungkook says, and he runs a hand in his hair.
An infuriating small strand falls in his big doe eyes, but he seemingly doesn’t care. He glances at you once again, eyes trailing between you and Hoseok.
“Enjoying yourself?” he asks when his gaze settles back on you.
You don’t miss the way his eyes dip to your cleavage before moving back to your face.
“I’m here to beat your ass,” you reply, and you offer him a shit-eating grin.
He laughs, and he sets his attention on Hoseok. “I hope you’re good, bro, because she’s just declared war.” And then he looks at you, smirking that insufferable smirk once more. His doe eyes narrow threateningly, and you find yourself wishing you had never heard him fuck before.
Because all your brain can picture right now is how you came to the sound of his grunts a couple of days ago.
“What?” you can’t help but say, though he looks away from you as the two other guys shoot, completely missing the three cups left in front of Jimin and Jungkook. 
You notice Jimin looking at you with an eyebrow cocked, and the smile on his lips means nothing good. You furrow your brows, because you know how much of a gossip he is, but thankfully enough for you, he has to throw.
You watch as he does so, landing it right in the last cup. Jungkook of course throws right in the cup too, claiming the victory for them as the two other guys grumble and leave the table, leaving the place free for you and Hoseok.
You meet Hoseok’s gaze, offering him a small smirk. “I hope you’re ready to get fucked.”
You only realize how crude your words sounded, especially considering your history with him, when he starts laughing, that contagious laugh you’ve always found cute.
“I mean, I’m a pretty good shot,” he says once you’ve calmed down. “Are you?”
You wince. “Once in a while I’m good,” you answer truthfully. “Most of the time I suck.”
“Well hopefully you’ll be good tonight,” he teases, gently nudging you with his elbow.
You offer him a determined nod, before turning to face Jungkook and Jimin. You quickly put the solo cups back in position, as Jungkook watches you with a half-smile on his lips. You don’t know what to make of it, so you ignore him.
A small, tiny, minuscule voice at the back of your head tells you he probably knows about The Incident, but you ignore it entirely like you’ve been doing for the past few days.
Turns out Hoseok really is a good shot. He lands all of his shots, but of course, it has to be the day you suck. You don’t land any, up until the redemption that brings you back into the game when Jungkook and Jimin are about to win.
It makes you scream in happiness, and you throw your arms around Hoseok’s neck, right as his hands lay flat on your waist. He pulls you close, laughing in your ear until you let go, and you have the decency to feel bad.
You’re pretty sure you broke his heart in November, and you’re pretty sure you’ll only end up breaking it again. But there’s just something in the way Jungkook is staring from the other side of the table, smile gone, that makes you want to cling to Hoseok. So you do, and when he stands behind you to help you with your next shot, you let him put one hand on your hip.
Your gaze meets Jungkook’s, and you watch as his eyes dip to the fingers on your hip. He cocks his head to the side, wets his lips, and then an infuriating smirk lights up his features dangerously until you feel like you need to look away or else you’ll combust. So you glance at Jimin, who is just smiling prettily because when is he not, and then you focus on the lone solo cup you have to aim for.
“What you want to do,” Hoseok says, leaning so he can speak in your ear. You’re infinitely aware of how his pelvis brushes your ass, and your breath catches in your throat. He continues, “is to throw in a parabola. That way you won’t hit the rim of the cup”. He grabs your wrist, lifting your hand. “From this height, it should work.”
You nod, because you don’t think you can answer, especially not as you can hear Jungkook snickering from where he’s standing. Instead, you really focus on the cup, and when you’re about to throw, Jungkook speaks up.
“Put it in, baby.”
Your brain short-circuits, and it’s no wonder you miss by a good, few inches. Jimin is a giggly mess next to Jungkook, Hoseok can’t resist his laugh, and all you can do is glare at Jungkook’s satisfied smile.
“What the fuck?” you let out.
He winks at you. “Gotta learn to not get distracted, peach.”
You hate the nickname. He knows that you do, and it’s the reason why he’s been using it for months now. Ever since one late night where you played Mario Kart together with Taehyung and Jimin, and you kept choosing Princess Peach as your character. When you went in the kitchen to grab a drink, Jungkook followed you and teased you about it, and now the nickname has stuck.
Though evidently never in front of Taehyung.
You wish you had a snarky retort in you, but all you can do is think about The Incident, and pray he can’t tell that your cheeks are burning up because of him and not because of the alcohol.
You end up losing the beer pong game, and you cringe internally as you watch Hoseok dapping Jungkook and Jimin up. You begrudgingly congratulate them, as Jungkook teases you for the loss.
“Would have thought your brother taught you better than this,” he says, nudging you with his elbow.
You roll your eyes, glancing at Hoseok, but he’s striking a conversation with Jimin. 
“Tae and I didn’t spend all that much time together, Jungkook,” you remind him. “You know I just moved in with you guys because you needed someone after Jimin left.”
Jungkook shrugs. “You seem pretty close to him.” 
He falls silent, pulling at his piercing as you glance at his features. You’ve left your liquid courage somewhere on the table, and you really wish you had it with you right now. Only so you could avoid the sudden wistful look in Jungkook’s haze, though it disappears so quickly you think you might have imagined it.
“He’s really protective of you,” he comments as you too remain silent, not knowing what to say.
You chuckle, because if there is a thing that is true, it’s that your older brother is an overbearing asshole. “That he is,” you agree, and you both laugh.
“Hey, do you want a drink?” Hoseok suddenly asks, and you realize that Jimin has disappeared. 
You’re pretty sure Jungkook is eyeing him up and down when you reply, “Please, I need a new drink.”
Hoseok beams, and you make to move towards him when Jungkook grabs your arm to stop you. Your eyes widen, The Incident flashing in your mind, but his tattooed fingers let go of you as you throw him an inquisitive look.
“I’m not drinking tonight,” he admits. “I came with my car, thought I’d offer to drive you home.”
At that, your eyebrows shoot towards your hairline in surprise. “What?”
He shrugs, corner smile back on his pink lips. “As long as you don’t get sick, that is.”
You ponder for a time, because you were supposed to sleep over at Nabi and Ria’s dorm tonight. You reckon heading home would probably be better, especially now that Hoseok has caught your attention again.
Maybe you can give Jungkook a piece of his medicine.
“Ayt,” you tell him, moving closer as a secretive smile moves on your lips, brought up by the evil plan that is just starting to form in your brain. “I’ll find you later?”
Jungkook looks down at you, tongue pushing on the inside of his cheek as he tilts his head to the side. A smirk moves on his lips and he glances at Hoseok before settling his doe eyes back on you.
He looks nothing like a doe when he says, “I’ll be waiting for you.”
And then he’s the one that walks away, and you can’t breathe for a few seconds as Hoseok waits patiently, either unaware of the situation or not caring. Though you know he knows Jungkook is your roommate – he probably just thinks Jungkook is being nice.
You inhale deeply, before turning to look at Hoseok as you let out your breath. “So, drinks?”
He smiles, genuinely, nodding his head as he offers you his hand to take. To your surprise, he pulls you close to him, and the way his gaze looks down on you makes you all too aware that you used to fuck him, and he used to fuck you good.
“What are you drinking tonight?” he asks, head dipping so he can ask the question in your ear.
“What do you want?”
His smile turns a little dangerous, and he looks over your head to the doorway to the living room. “Shall we?”
You laugh, nodding your head enthusiastically, and you let him pull you behind him. He guides you to the drink table in the living room, where he makes you a rum and coke as you scan your surroundings. You spy Ria and Nabi dancing, and you only understand why when you notice that Namjoon is nearby too, with Yoongi who’s just standing to the side, scrolling on his phone as if bored.
You know Hoseok likes to dance. That’s how you first kissed all those months ago, so you don’t hesitate to ask if he wants to join your friends after you’ve both drank a couple of sips from your respective solo cups. He obviously agrees, and you take his hand to guide him to your friends. You’re painfully aware of how Yoongi raises his head when you get closer, eyes dropping to your entwined hands. He furrows his brows disapprovingly, and you wonder if he’ll speak up.
If he’ll speak up and ruin your plan for you. 
He doesn’t, instead meeting your gaze as if daring you to do something. It makes you feel bad for a split second until Hoseok lets go of your hand to rest a hand on your hip as he nestles his lean body against your back.
“You know,” he says in your ear, and you look away from Yoongi, refusing to acknowledge his challenge. “I always wondered why you ghosted me.”
You gulp, and you follow his lead as he makes you sway your hips against him. Ria whistles and your eyes widen a little as if to say ‘please not right now’.
“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and it’s true. “I didn’t really mean to ghost you, just got busy and…”
He laughs, and you’re surprised to hear it ring true. “Y/n,” he says. He leans even closer, and his lips brush your ear. It makes goosebumps rise all over your body, right as he continues, “You can say you got scared. I gave you plenty of reasons to be scared.”
Because you had agreed on no feelings, and he still had developed some, hadn’t he?
“I’m still sorry, ghosting you was shitty of me.”
He chuckles, and you’re starting to recognize the man that he is in the bedroom. His voice is low, husky, when he says, “Should I punish you for it?”
The Incident and Jeon Jungkook are thousands of miles from your thoughts when his words settle in, making heat pool at your core.
“You’d still want to do this?” you ask, breathlessly.
He nibbles at your earlobe, and you instinctively tilt your head to the side to give him better access. He kisses under your ear, tongue darting out to taste your skin, and this time Ria fully hollers in front of you.
You glare at her, only to see that she and Nabi are having the time of their life watching you.
“I haven’t been able to forget how good your pussy feels wrapped around my dick,” Hoseok replies after he’s sucked a hickey on your neck. “Trust me, if I can fuck you again, I’ll do it.”
You don’t hesitate when you turn around, resting your forehead against his. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
And you know you would. Especially considering how tense he was when you first talked to him tonight. 
“Sweet of you,” he comments, and a smirk grows on his lips. He pulls away from you, taking a sip of rum and coke. “I wasn’t catching feelings for you, if that’s what you were worried about.” He pauses as his face falls fully serious. “You just don’t like when people treat you right.”
You’re insulted. You really are, yet… he isn’t entirely wrong. The minute a guy gets too close, you dip – you blame that on the fact your father abandoned you and Taehyung when you were still kids.
“Is that why Yoongi is glaring at me?” you ask, a little colder than intended. 
The message still passes, and Hoseok shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t care what Yoongi thinks. He always thinks he knows me better than I do but, trust, he doesn’t.”
You’re surprised at just how bitter Hoseok’s sentence sounds. You always thought Yoongi and he were best friends. It’s strange to think that maybe they aren’t, or at least maybe they aren’t close enough to be.
“Anyway,” Hoseok adds when you remain silent for a little too long. “If you’re willing to fuck again, I’d be down. I haven’t found another pussy like yours since the last time we fucked.”
Which coincidentally is the last time you had sex with anyone. You’re not surprised Hoseok fucked some other people after you – with his easy charm, you know he can have anyone wrapped around his finger pretty easily. 
And if he wants to participate in your evil plan so willingly, who are you to tell him no?
“The night’s barely started,” you point out. “But maybe you can come back to my place later?”
You’ve never invited him over before, because if there’s a thing that scares you more than anything in this world, it’s Taehyung hearing you having sex with some guy. But now that your brother is in Paris, you figure it doesn’t matter.
Plus, if you want Jungkook to get a taste of his own medicine, you have to bring Hoseok home.
“Deal,” Hoseok tells you, and he seals the deed with a searing and unexpected kiss.
You still kiss him back, hungrily, your body remembering just how good Hoseok can make you feel. You just have to make it through a party – with Jungkook driving you home, you know it’s likely you won’t leave until the party is starting to dwindle down.
When you pull away, Hoseok licks his lips once, as if wanting to remember the taste of you, before saying, “I’ll find you at the end of the party”.
You nod, and begrudgingly let him leave when he walks over to where Yoongi is standing, now joined by a baffled Namjoon, who glances between the two of you a couple of times. You ignore him, instead focusing on Ria and Nabi as they drunkenly pull you away, laughing wildly.
“What the fuck was that?” Ria asks in between two sets of laughter as you emerge in the kitchen. “I thought you said you didn’t want him anymore.”
You don’t want to jinx your plan, so all you can think to do is shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. “It just happened.”
In a weird moment of soberness, Nabi says, “Please don’t lead him on. He’s a decent guy”.
You tell your friends what he told you, and they both seem taken aback, yet they don’t question it. After all, the amount of alcohol in your blood is enough to make it so it’s a little hard to think profoundly, and inhibitions have flown out the window before you even got to the party.
After the conversation is over, your two friends insist on playing beer pong, claiming that they need you to encourage them. You recognize Dave at the table – you think that’s his name – and you all cozy up next to him as you ask to be next. You linger behind, mostly because you’ve noticed someone you’ve been avoiding ever since you got to college last semester, and you hope he doesn’t notice you.
Maybe he’s one of the reasons why you’ve been struggling with people treating you right, like Hoseok mentioned. Because Sam was your first love, and he played you immensely.
If he notices you, he doesn’t look like he does, instead keeping his arm tightly wrapped around the girl next to him. You don’t know her, and you wouldn’t even care if you did – you stopped caring about Sam a long time ago. But you’re still a little put off at the sight of him, and when you catch sight of Jungkook and Jimin by the backyard’s sliding door, breathing in some fresh air, you decide to join them.
Which, you reckon, is a very stupid idea. Because they are Taehyung’s friends, not yours, but they feel safer for you than being in the vicinity of Sam Hwang right now.
“Weren’t you sucking face with what’s-his-name just a second ago?” Jimin asks straight away as you stop next to them.
You snort in your cup, taking a long sip from your drink. “Maybe,” you say once you’ve swallowed.
“Tae would have killed him,” Jimin jokes, looking at Jungkook.
You don’t miss the way Jungkook’s gaze is focused on a spot on your neck, and you rub it mindlessly. 
“Good thing he’s in Paris,” you point out. “And I can trust you two to not tell him?” 
You say it like a question, though you know it’s useless. Jimin is the biggest gossip you know, and you expect Taehyung to be scolding you by the time you wake up tomorrow morning.
Though that attracts Jungkook’s attention to your face, and he meets your gaze with that same infuriating smirk he was sporting earlier. 
“Lips sealed,” he says, uselessly because both of you know that Jimin is the real danger.
Before anything else can be said, Jimin points towards the beer pong table. “Didn’t feel like playing with your friends?”
You shrug, taking another sip of rum and coke. “They don’t need me.”
“Pretty sure you’d be a liability anyway,” Jungkook teases.
Jimin and he laughs at your expanse, and you’re stuck glaring at Jungkook, right as The Incident takes the forefront of your thoughts again.
You wish it would stop haunting you. Wish it would leave you alone, because you feel like it was the cataclysm to a series of bad decisions. The first event of a butterfly effect that is threatening to push you over the edge of the cliff.
“I did get the redemption shot,” you point out, and Jungkook playfully nudges you again.
“Doesn’t count, your little boyfriend got all the other shots for you.”
Your gaze widens. “He’s not my boyfriend!” you quickly defend.
Admittedly a tad too quickly.
Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, wetting his lips before playing with his piercing. “Of course not.”
You narrow your eyes at him, though you remain silent because you feel like saying something else would be far too incriminating. 
“Leave her alone,” Jimin jokes. “She did her best.” And then his gaze settles on you, and you balk at the mischief burning in his eyes. “Not her fault if her best sucks.”
“Bruh,” you let out, and you all burst out laughing.
After that, the conversation moves on easily, as you ask Jimin about his girlfriend. He starts gushing about the girl – he always does whenever Sera is mentioned. He tells you about her latest publication, and Jungkook looks bored out of his mind by the time something catches his attention, and he walks away from you and Jimin.
You watch him leave, somehow disappointed, but you entertain the conversation with Jimin for longer still. And Jimin is fun to be around, easy to talk to, and you don’t realize but an hour has passed before he glances down at his phone.
“Shit, I gotta go,” he admits. “I told Sera I wouldn’t be home too late.”
Your solo cup has been empty for half of the hour, so you raise it and say, “Go home, I’m going to get a refill.”
He hugs you goodbye, though you both walk together towards the living room. You part ways as you head to the drink table, once again scanning the room in search of your friends. They are nowhere to be seen, so you set on exploring the house after you’ve made another rum and coke for yourself. 
You find the stairs, and you head upstairs thinking they might have needed to settle in a calmer environment. Knowing Nabi, it is to be expected, yet you don’t find them anywhere upstairs. There’s a closed door leading to what you think is a bathroom, but you refuse to look in there.
You almost let out a startled yelp as it opens, and Jungkook steps out, pretty lips swollen red as he leads a girl behind him. At the sight of you, he lets go of her hand, and she looks between the two of you curiously. As both of you remain entirely silent, she furrows her brow but then dips, running a hand through her visibly tangled-up hair.
You can easily imagine what she and Jungkook were doing just a moment ago.
“Really?” you tell him.
His tongue pokes his cheek, and he laughs. “You asked me not to fuck at home anymore.”
You purse your lips, actually surprised that he took your word into account.
“Didn’t expect you would respect it.”
He doesn’t fake the offence that paints his features. “I’m not an asshole, peach.”
The nickname is said condescendingly, and you reckon you should feel a little bad. Because you’re still set on bringing Hoseok home tonight, no matter if Jungkook decided not to fuck anyone at home again.
“Sorry,” you apologize, not knowing what else to say.
Silence moves between you, and Jungkook leans against the doorframe, arms folding on his chest. He watches you carefully, as if he’s never really seen you before and, frankly, you wish he’d looked at you like this before.
It’s a treacherous thought, and you push it away as best as you can. 
“Jimin went home,” you tell him, feeling the need to fill the silence with something, anything.
Before he can reply, a group of people move upstairs, talking loudly. Jungkook pushes up from the doorframe, walking towards you.
“Do you want to go home too?” he asks when he’s right next to you.
He’s tall. You have to tilt your head back to be able to hold his gaze, and damn you, you’re hypnotized. You don’t want to look away, don’t think that you can.
“You already want to go home?” you answer, wetting your lips, and his eyes drop to your mouth.
He scoffs, as if it’s an inconvenience, before shrugging his shoulders. “I’m not drinking, I don’t see why I’d stay longer.”
Right.
“Why aren’t you drinking anyway?” you ask, genuinely curious. 
He smiles, with no hint of that infuriating smirk for once. “Got morning shift at the library tomorrow.”
The fact he works in a library still makes no sense to you. Though he’s claimed it’s because that way, it’s easy to approach all the pretty, intelligent women who don’t go to parties. Easy targets for a fuckboy like him.
“Ah,” you let out. “Well…” you glance at the group of people as they get out of the room where the coats are. When you resume your attention on Jungkook, you’re struck thinking he’s moved even closer. “My friend is supposed to sleep over, can I go find him?”
You say it innocently, and you don’t miss the way Jungkook frowns slightly. “Who?”
You force Hoseok’s name out, mostly because the way Jungkook is looking at you right now is making you want to disappear through the floor.
“Ah, the guy you played beer pong with,” Jungkook comments. “Thought he wasn’t your boyfriend.”
You furrow your brows. “He isn’t.”
A smirk grows on his lips. “Then why are you bringing him home, peach?”
Your own smirk is easy to come to your lips as you reply, “I’ll let you imagine.”
“Your brother wouldn’t approve.”
As he licks at his piercing, you can’t help but look down at his lips. “Good thing you’re not my brother then.”
He doesn’t reply, only looks over your head as you hear the unmistakable laugh of Jeong Hoseok. It makes you take a step back, and you turn to see Hoseok appearing at the top of the stairs. To your surprise, he’s accompanied by Ria, Nabi and Namjoon, but Yoongi is nowhere in sight.
Namjoon is helping Nabi walk, as she’s clearly gotten even drunker since you abandoned them downstairs. You wince at her sight, knowing she’s going to be a nightmare tomorrow. 
Ria catches sight of you and Jungkook, and her gaze widens.
“Here you are!” she shrieks. “We were looking for you everywhere.”
You don’t miss the way Hoseok looks you up and down, and you thank your stars for making this so easy. “I was thinking of heading home,” you tell the group, and you glance over your shoulder to confirm it with Jungkook.
He’s got an unreadable expression on his features, one that makes you think you’re going to enjoy your payback way too much.
When you look back to the group, it’s to see Hoseok cocking an eyebrow as if to say ‘Am I still coming?’ You nod, and you take a few steps towards him, interlocking your fingers with his. Ria watches as if it’s a scene from her favourite movie, and you all enter the room with the coats. 
You find yours in the mess on the floor, fast enough to catch sight of Jungkook as he’s waiting outside the door. You recognize his coat in the mess, so you grab it before bringing it to him.
“Here,” you tell him.
He chuckles. “Thanks, peach.”
Hoseok is next to follow, and the two guys eye each other before you hear Namjoon say, “Are you sure you’re fine with getting her home?”
You look into the room – Nabi is now lying on the bed, laughing to herself.
“Hopefully, yeah,” Ria answers. “I’ve already called an Uber.”
Namjoon is watching Nabi with a strange expression on his features when he says, “You guys are still at the dorms?”
“Yeah, we are,” Nabi slurs. “Where else would we be?”
Namjoon chuckles, and he glances your way. You immediately look away, right as he says, “I’ll come with you guys, then.”
Your thoughts head to his girlfriend for a few seconds, feeling bad for the girl, though clearly, Namjoon is just trying to be a gentleman. When you see Jungkook and Hoseok waiting patiently for you, you forget all about Nabi, Ria, Namjoon and his hypothetic girlfriend, especially as you see the not-so-genuine smile on Hoseok’s lips, and the dark look in Jungkook’s gaze.
Maybe your plan was a little too evil after all.
*****
The night is cold outside ─ arctic ─ and you wish you were drunker. That way, you’d barely feel it, but no, you’re forced to a shivering mess as you walk behind Jungkook towards his car, which he was forced to park a few streets over because of a recent snowstorm. All that can be heard is the sounds of your shoes crunching in the snow and the distant buzz of the highway. Up above, the stars twinkle in the night, and smoke moves from your mouth to create a cloud over your head.
You hate winter. Always have, and always will. Especially when it’s so cold you feel like your face will fall off, and you reckon tonight is one of the coldest nights in a while. 
Your eyes trail to Hoseok, and you smile in relief – at least your bed won’t be cold tonight.
You finally reach Jungkook’s car, and he unlocks the doors, the sound reverberating through the cold air. You sit in the back seat with Hoseok, pushing Jungkook’s gym bag to the side, and Jungkook is quick to turn on the engine, blasting the heater on. He meets your gaze in the rearview mirror as he waits for the engine to be warm enough to actually start driving. 
For a moment, you forget Hoseok is next to you. All you can focus on is Jungkook’s gaze. Where it’s usually wide, big and innocent, his eyes are narrowed now, as if he’s eyeing you. Judging you, even. Judging your choices, and you think he’s full of shit for it – he’s the first one to fuck around whenever he has the opportunity, after all.
A moment later, he deems the car finally ready, and he looks away, focusing on the street instead. He turns up the music on the stereo, and you watch as he taps his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat. You do so until you feel Hoseok’s hand landing on your thigh, which attracts your attention to him.
“Thanks for inviting me,” Hoseok says, not too loud, but clearly Jungkook hears because his fingers stop tapping on the wheel.
You smile, glancing down at Hoseok’s lips. They look chapped from the cold, yet when he smiles that bright smile of his back, you can’t help but think they are still inviting.
“Please don’t judge the state of the apartment,” you whisper, leaning closer to him. “This idiot doesn’t know how to –“
Jungkook slams the brakes, and you whip your head towards him as the aftershock sends you back into your seat. His eyes are gleaming with barely concealed mischief, and the infuriating smirk graces his lips.
“Sorry,” he says, but he doesn’t seem apologetic at all.
You roll your eyes, but that kills the conversation until you arrive at your apartment, which thankfully isn’t too far away from the party. Jungkook parks out front, and you all file out of the car, walking up the stairs to your door. You unlock it while the two men stand next to you, and you’re not sure what’s colder – them, or the actual winter night.
You’re not sure you want to know the answer either.
Warm air wraps you in its embrace as you open the door and step in, and you quickly shut it after the two men to make sure the cold doesn’t come in too much. By the time you’ve turned back around, Jungkook’s already halfway to his bedroom.
“Good night,” he says over his shoulder. 
For some reason, you expected him to be more of an ass about the situation, but you’re reduced to thinking he actually doesn’t care all that much. You watch him until he disappears in his room before your eyes slide to Hoseok.
He’s been observing you all this time, and the moment your eyes meet, he smiles.
“We can hang our coats in the closet,” you tell him as you unzip yours, and he follows your motion.
You grab a hanger for him, handing it to him before taking off your coat and hanging it. Once that is done, you head towards your room, pit-stopping in the kitchen to grab glasses of water. You reckon you didn’t expect him to be so silent, and it makes you slightly uncomfortable.
Even when you’re in your room, and you’ve plugged in your fairy lights, Hoseok still doesn’t say a thing. 
“You good?” you ask him, doing your best to calm your sudden nerves.
Was it a good idea to bring him here after all?
He grins, nodding once. “The apartment isn’t as messy as you let it sound like.”
Not expecting that at all, you let out a small laugh. But he isn’t wrong – out of the three of you, Taehyung is by far the messiest. And now that he is gone, Jungkook and you have managed to keep the apartment tidy and clean, though sometimes Jungkook does leave some dirty dishes around.
“Oh,” you let out, and you chuckle. “Yeah, we cleaned this week.”
Last Wednesday, actually. Right before Jungkook had his pussy appointment, it turns out.
Hoseok looks around, and you gaze at his honey skin for a time. It looks warm in the lights, and his smile is still just as blinding when he offers it to you.
“Like your room.”
You scan it as if you haven’t lived here for months now. You’ve brought most of the stuff you had at home – except your collection of plushies. Polaroid pictures of you growing up are hung on threads over your desk, which is a little messy from the project you were working on yesterday. Your laptop lays there unattended, screen black, and you walk over to shut it absentmindedly. 
“It’s not much, but it’s home,” you tell him, and you don’t have time to turn around for him to put his hand on your hip like he was doing earlier at the party. 
You take a long swig of water, before putting the glass down on your desk. Hoseok imitates you, and then his other hand finds a home on your waist.
“Feels like you,” he whispers, head dipping down so he can say the words in your ear.
You shiver, eyes fluttering shut, as he moves your hair out of the way before kissing on the hickey he sucked on your skin at the party.
“Yeah?” you breathe out.
He nods, and you feel him move against your neck. He pulls you closer, and your breath itches in your throat when you feel his dick against your ass.
“Fuck,” he curses. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you again for so long.” He nibbles at your earlobe, and one of his hands moves to your neck, holding you firmly into place. “But you had to run away, thinking you knew me. Baby,” he pauses, as his fingers dig in your arteries, making your head swim with the lack of oxygen, “you don’t know me at all. And I’m going to fucking punish you for it tonight. Understood?”
He releases his hold on your neck, and you suck in a sharp breath. “Yes.”
“Mmh?”
You know exactly what he wants, and it makes your insides boil again. “Yes, sir.”
He smirks against you, before biting at the skin of your neck. “You’ll be a good little slut for me?”
You nod, entirely unable to form a sentence. You’ve completely forgotten that the goal of tonight is to make Jungkook pay for how he’s been having loud sex. All you can think about right now is the man behind you.
“Then turn around, baby. Strip out of your clothes.”
You obey, mostly because Hoseok brings out a submissive part of you that just craves to do what he wants. Yes, you’ve always been more on the submissive side. But with other people, you can’t help the brat in you.
You fear being a brat with Hoseok would be a very dangerous game to play.
You don’t break the eye contact as you take off your clothes, slowly. He doesn’t look away from you, though he wets his lips as if the sight of you is making him hungry. 
Hoseok has a duality you have rarely seen before. Where he is an incredibly sweet person in his regular life, his bedroom self turns into a demon, a force to be reckoned with. No wonder sex with him is always so good.
When you’re finally naked, panties pooling around your ankles, Hoseok offers you a smirk. He doesn’t say anything, but he slowly undoes his belt, before motioning for you to get closer.
Only one step separates you from him, and then you’re standing right in front of him. He raises his hand, making you tilt your head back, and then he captures your mouth in a hungry kiss.
You can’t help but moan when he swats the belt at your side, the leather making your skin tingle. He pushes his tongue in your mouth, and your hands instinctively grab onto the hem of his shirt.
“Nu-uh,” he tuts, making you let go of it. “Get on your knees, baby.”
You drop to your knees, eyes darting to the bulge in his pants once before he makes you tilt your head back again. You gulp, right as he wraps his belt around your neck until the buckle is pressing against your skin. He doesn’t make it tight enough to hurt, but your hands still shake a little at being so vulnerable in front of him.
“You remember the safe word?” he asks.
“Red.”
He nods appreciatively. “And if you can’t speak, you tap my leg, correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Fuck you look so good like this.”
Not knowing if you can touch him, you just smile up at him, wetting your lips.
“Want to get a taste of me?”
You already know where this is going to lead. Hoseok fucked your mouth more than once in the three months you had casual sex with him. So you answer, “I want you to come down my throat.”
He smirks. “Good girl.”
With his free hand, he unbuttons his pants, before pushing them down his legs. He doesn’t step out of them, instead palming himself through his boxers. You watch the imprint of his dick, salivating at the sight, especially as precum is already wetting the fabric.
Hoseok doesn’t have a particularly big dick. But whenever he fucks you, it feels like he’s the biggest you’ve ever had, mostly because he knows how to use it. Knows how to move and snap his hips in a way that makes you think you’re seeing into the future. It also makes it so sucking his dick doesn’t hurt your jaw too much, so you’re able to do it for a longer period of time.
Tonight, you have an inkling that you’ll be doing it for a while.
He pushes his underwear down, freeing his dick. Your eyes drop to it, not surprised to see the angry, swollen tip. He looks like he’s about to burst, but you know it’s a trick of the eye – Hoseok has more stamina than one would think.
Holding the base of his dick, he brings the tip closer to your face. Your mouth falls open, expecting him to push his cock in, but he instead taps your cheek with it.
“I want to ruin you,” he says in a low voice. “I want you to never be able to fuck another guy because you still think of me.”
You gulp, tongue darting to wet your lips. He gets the cue, and he brings his dick to your mouth. You don’t hesitate before licking at his slit, the salty taste of his precum filling your mouth. You then wrap your lips around the head, giving a tentative suck as your tongue plays with the underside of it.
He grunts, cocking his head to the side. And then he starts pulling on the belt – just a little, not enough to hurt, but enough to make it so it’s a tad harder to breathe. He’s usually pretty safe in his sex practices, but you feel like this could be dangerous.
You only then understand what he really meant by punishing you, and it makes your pussy drip on your thighs.
You moan around his dick, before slowly pushing forward until he hits the back of your throat, and your eyes water. You swallow around him, keeping the gag reflex at bay as he circles his hips. You pull away from his cock to move to his balls instead, still not using your hands as you lick at the spot between them, licking up his dick at the same time.
“Hands on me, baby,” he commands.
As per usual, you obey. One of your hands moves to fondle his balls, and the other wraps around the base of his cock so you can jerk him off as you suck. And then you get to work, eyes shutting as you concentrate on pulling grunts out of him.
He doesn’t let you do it for a long time. He’s quick to pull on the belt more – it’s a leash more than a belt, is it? – which makes you pull away, lips parted as you struggle to suck in some air.
“Eyes on me,” he tells you. “I want to see you cry as you choke on my dick.”
When he guides his cock back towards your mouth, you keep your eyes on him, ever so a good girl, and you let him thrust in your mouth. The first two times he does it, your gag reflex doesn’t show up, but the third time you gag, spit rolling on your chin as he pulls away. A line of drool connects his tip to your mouth, and it breaks as he once again taps his cock on your cheek. Tears water your eyes, and he watches you blink them away, slightly shaking his head in disapproval.
You know that was your last chance when he pushes his dick in your mouth again, establishing a steady yet hard rhythm that has your gaze blurring. You moan against him, right as he grunts, whispering filthy curses entwined with mentions of your name. And when he starts going faster, the sounds of you choking get louder. It’s indecent, pornographic, and tears roll on your cheeks as he throws his head back, grunting loudly.
“Fuck, baby.”
He stops at the back of your throat, looking down at you. He wipes some tears on your cheeks as you swallow around him. His dick twitches inside your mouth, but you know he’s not about to come.
Soon, perhaps, but not just yet.
“You’re okay?” he asks, because even though he’s pretty rough, he always does care about his partner too. 
He lets you pull away to catch your breath, releasing his tight hold on the belt too. You breathe raggedly, throat feeling raw from the intrusion.
“Yes,” you breathe out. 
“Good.” He licks his lips, offering you a dangerous chuckle. “You’re going to let me come down your throat?”
You nod, and he taps the tip of his dick against your sealed lips. You don’t remember shutting your mouth, so you open it wide again for him. He pushes forward, slowly, until all of it is embedded in your mouth, head pushing against the back of your throat. He remains unmoving long enough for you to gag, and then he pushes forward even more before pulling back.
When he starts fucking your mouth again, you know he’s chasing his high. So you fondle his balls, moan around his dick, try not to choke whenever he hits the back of your throat. Evidently, you still do sometimes, and tears roll down your cheeks by the time he growls, “Open your throat up for me, baby”.
You moan one last time, as he pushes all the way to the back of your mouth, grunting loudly as hot spurts of his cum fills your throat. As his dick twitches, he pulls out a little, and you know better than to swallow right away. So you patiently wait as he finishes, before fully pulling away. 
He grabs your jaw, and forces you to tilt your head back. “Open up.” You do, and he spits on top of his cum before saying, “Swallow”. You do that too, and the next time you open your mouth, it’s fully empty. Only then does he let go of your jaw, and he also quickly takes his belt off from around your neck, letting it drop to the floor.
It falls with a loud thump, and you breathe in deeply for the first time in a while. Your throat aches, and you massage your neck where the buckle left an indent in your skin. Concern grows on his features as you chuckle awkwardly, getting up from the floor.
Your knees are already hurting, and you know you’ll have bruises by the time you wake up tomorrow.
“Is your neck okay?” he asks.
You drop your hand, and his fingers ghost over the spot. “Yeah,” you reassure him. “It’ll be okay.”
“Good.” He smirks, and then he captures your lips in another heated kiss. One of his hands moves between your thighs, and he feels your wetness, groaning in satisfaction. “You’re dripping for me,” he says as he pulls away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours.
“I am.”
He licks at your mouth, before saying, “Too bad you won’t be getting some tonight, mmh?”
And he moves his hand away from your core to settle it on your waist instead.
“What?” you let out.
At this, he laughs, and it’s a little mean. “You think I’ll make you come when you’ve ghosted me for a few months?” He pauses, letting his words sink in. “Nah, you’re going to have to work for it, baby.”
You want to curse him, but somehow it just turns you on further. “When can I see you again then?”
He ponders for a time, pulling away so he can meet your gaze. “What about next weekend?”
You’re disappointed, but you try not to let it show. “Any chance you’d be available during the week?”
“Maybe,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “Will you be nice and not touch yourself until then?”
You bite at your bottom lip, nodding once. 
“Then yes, we can hang out this week,” he concludes. He frees your lip from your teeth with his thumb, before gently tapping your cheek. “But I’ve got to go now.”
It surprises you. Back when you were friends with benefits, you always stayed the night at his place, so you expected him to stay tonight. But he immediately steps away from you, putting his clothes back on quickly as you just stand there, naked and awkward.
“You’re leaving?”
He glances at you as he’s putting his belt back on. “Yeah, won’t have you think I’m into you like that again.”
It hurts just a tad little bit, but at the same time you agree with him. Not sleeping over is a good way to avoid feelings, so you decide to throw on a pair of sweatpants and a sweater so you can walk him to the front door.
Hoseok kisses your forehead once when you get there, before grabbing his coat. You watch as he slides his arms in it, draping it on his shoulders before he bends down to put his shoes on too. When he straightens, he offers you a hug and you gladly embrace him as he wishes you good night.
You’re somehow confused as you shut the door behind him, and you stay there for a few seconds, almost expecting him to come back. He doesn’t, and you’re left heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth, only so you can get rid of the taste of him, and then you head to your bedroom.
And as you lie awake in bed, the only thing you can hope is that Jungkook didn’t hear you after all. You’re ashamed of what you did, but you’re far too tired to think about it deeply. All you can do is stare at the wall in front of you, hoping that sleep will take you.
It doesn’t, not until the early hours of the morning, when the sun is starting to kiss the horizon, turning the sky to liquid gold.
Teaser | Chapter 1.5 | Next
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aerynwrites · 1 year ago
Text
Longing
Halsin x Fem!Reader
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A/N: I have been burning with an intense CRAVING for Halsin and there is such little fic about him (although there are some good ones out there 👀) so I had to do my part and add to the pool 😏 hope y’all enjoy!
Word count: 2.5k
Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, reader is insecure about her virginity, talks of inexperience, love confessions, Halsin is a sweetheart, references to NSFW content. Very very minor spoilers for act 2.
Part 2
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The fur of the rabbit is soft between your fingers as you prepare it. Yet, despite having a knife in your other hand and your task being a delicate one, you can’t seem to focus.
Your eyes keep drifting back to the druid across camp chopping wood for the fire. The axe is a large one, heavy - heavier than you’d be able to lift. Yet the large elf manages to bring it up above his head and swing it back down with a grace you never understood how he possessed.
The muscles in his shoulders ripple with each movement, accompanying the rythmic thump of the axe through wood. His soft grunts as he pulls it from the stump he’s using before placing the next log onto the surface and starting the process all over again.
“The rabbit is already dead, darling.”
The familiar voice rips you from your staring as your head whips around to see none other than your vampiric companion standing over you, a smirk tugging at his lips. You huff at him before looking down to the rabbit by your knees and heat rushes to your cheeks. What should have been a simple skinning job to get the meat ready for dinner has turned into a mess. Cuts in the wrong places, the hide nowhere near usable anymore.
You look back up just in time to see Astarions red eyes go from you, to Halsin, then back again. His smile grows. He shifts his feet, one arm resting across his chest as he gestures with his other to Halsin.
“You know, you could paint a portrait. It would last longer.”
Your cheeks somehow get even hotter, as you turn back to the rabbit in front of you, doing a much better job than earlier.
“Leave me alone, Astarion,” you mumble, cursing internally when the elf lowers himself to the ground beside you, arms resting on his knees.
“And why would I do that, when teasing you gives me so much joy?”
You can’t stop the small smile that tugs at your lips. “Okay, well you got me all flustered. So now that’s out of the way, did you need something or did you really interrupt your reading to bother me?”
The vampire sighs, leaning back on his hands as he looks over to you. “What I need is for you to finally jump that druids bones.”
You nearly choke as the words leave his lips, looking around to see if anyone heard and feeling heat creep up your neck once more as you see Shadowheart failing to hide a chuckle.
You turn to face your friend, eyes narrowed. “Could you be a little more quiet? I don’t need the whole camp hearing you.”
Astarion laughs this time, loudly, and it draws more glances than you’d like. You roughly shove the man next to you before he can speak.
“Your next words better be a whisper or I’m going to stab you ” you threaten, poking the knife in his direction.
Astarion places a hand over his heart, faux hurt in his eyes. “You wound me, darling. I’m just trying to help you. Plus,” he gestures to the camp, “it’s not like your attraction is a secret, nor Halsin’s.”
You shake your head turning back to grab another rabbit, embarrassment welling up in your chest. “He doesn’t…” you trail off, getting defensive. “Nothing’s there, Astarion. So can we please just drop it?”
Of course, he doesn’t.
“Look,” he starts, “all I’m trying to say is that neither of you are benefiting from holding back so…indulge, for once. Gods know we all deserve it.”
You ignore him. Curling in on yourself at the mention of…indulging. There nothing wrong with it of course. Everyone at camp has blown off steam along this adventure. Just…not you.
And the vampire must be able to tell too, because at your silence he straightens up, brows pinching in the rare way that shows he’s concerned.
“Wait, have you never…?” he gestures vaguely in the air.
His words, despite their genuine curiosity, strike a chord in you. You stand abruptly, tossing your work to the ground and stabbing your knife in the dirt.
“No I haven’t. Not that it’s any of your business.” Your words are louder than you intended and draw the eyes and ears of your other companions.
Astarion softens, obviously not expecting this reaction. “I didn’t mean to upset you-“
You clench your fists at your sides, interrupting him. “You never mean to Astarion but -“ You cut yourself off, taking a deep breath. “You’re such an ass sometimes.”
You turn on your heel and storm from camp before anyone can stop you, ignoring the concerned gaze of a certain druid.
———
The water is cool against your skin as you squat by the stream’s edge, rubbing at your hands as you try to get the blood off of them.
You feel foolish now, storming off like that. But Astarion pointing out your inexperience just struck you. It’s not something that’s ever bothered you before. Especially not in recent months since dealing with the tadpole. You all have more important things to worry about.
But the moment you rescued Halsin…it’s like something changed. You were instantly drawn to him. His kind smile and thoughtful words. His care for everyone and everything in nature.
And he flirted with you.
The memory is still fresh in your mind. The night of the tiefling party after you had stopped the ritual at the druid camp and saved Halsin. You were worried you were talking his ear off, but he was attentive the whole conversation. Answering your questions and asking some about you.
Then he said those honeyed words. Suggested celebrating by spending the night with someone special. Implied he would spend it with you if his mind wasn’t elsewhere.
You withdraw your hands from the water to drag them down your face as more memories surface.
More flirtatious banter and kind words. Thoughtful conversations and fighting side by side. The night sat by your bedside nursing you back to health after a particularly nasty fight. After Ketheric Thorm almost took you out.
Your side still aches with the memory. But the thought of his hands with their soothing healing glow, makes the ache subside.
You sigh, sitting back into the grass as your eyes lock onto the slowly gurgling stream, Astarion words playing over and over in your head.
Indulge, for once.
You want to. Gods do you want that.
You’ve spent many sleepless nights thinking about it. About his lips against yours, his hands on your skin, the sweet words he’d no doubt whisper against your ear.
You shudder at the thought before shoving it away. Because any time he hinted at that - showed any interest in you - you would be so elated before insecurity took over.
Halsin’s views on love and intimacy are no secret. You’d asked him once about current lovers and while he did confide no one currently held his affections back home he also expressed that there were others in the past.
Others. Plural.
And you’ve never been with anyone. Not physically or emotionally, you’ve never trusted anyone enough.
Not until now.
You sigh, frustration creeping back in as you press the heels of your palms into your eyes before quickly standing up. You need to apologize to Astarion and finally, maybe, talk to Halsin.
You turn on your heel to do just that when you run straight into a solid mass. You gasp, stumbling backwards just as two strong hands reach out to steady you, gripping your wrists firmly.
Once steady, you look up to see none other than the man haunting your thoughts smiling down at you.
“You must have been very deep in thought for someone like me to sneak up on you, little one.”
You have to suppress a shiver at the nickname. A moniker he’d given you since you teased him about his size at the beginning of your friendship.
You shake your head, moving to step away and only stopping when his hands let go only to slip down and take your own gently.
“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “I was just…thinking.”
Halsin stares at you for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face before he steps away, gesturing down the first path, one hand still in your own.
“Walk with me?” he asks. “I know being in nature helps me clear my head of even the darkest thoughts.”
You give a hesitant nod and follow him as he turns towards the path, not able to stop the smile when he doesn’t drop your hand.
———
The walk is mostly silent, a comfortable silence, but silent nonetheless. And you are grateful for it, not sure what you would say if Halsin were to ask what has you so upset.
But, silence can’t last forever it seems, because eventually the large Druid breaks through the sounds of nature surrounding you to speak.
“I overheard your conversation with Astarion,” he says, voice gentle. Probing, but not not forcing you to talk if you do not wish.
You stiffen, your pace slowing slightly, wanting to pull away from the man at your side. But his sure grip on your hand keeps you in place. The warmth of his skin on yours puts you slightly at ease.
“You…you heard that?” you ask, cringing internally. “You were across camp.”
The druid chuckles, gesturing to his ears with his free hand. “One of the curses of us elves. Impeccable hearing. Even when we don’t wish for it.”
You can feel your shoulders creeping up to your ears. Embarrassment settling in once more. “You were listening to us? To me?”
Halsin shrugs. “Not intentionally,” he admits, slowing his steps until you’re both stopped and he’s facing you. “But I find my attention turning towards you more often than not these days.”
His words tie your tongue and before you can gather enough sense to respond he continues.
“Nature works in mysterious ways, little one,” he tells you, eyes never leaving your face. “There is no one way to traverse it, and others journey do not define your own. Each one is unique, as it is intended.”
His words are beautifully woven, as always. And despite his cryptic deliverance, you know the meaning behind his words.
He’s comforting you. And once again, he speaks before you can detangle the jumble of thoughts in your head.
“And,” he reaches out, placing a curled finger beneath your chin to urge you to look up at him, “if it’s any encouragement, I seek you out as much as you do me. Possibly more so.”
Your eyes widen, heart stuttering in your chest at his words. He…does he feel the same way? Rationally you know he does. But that ever familiar self doubt, the tiny voice in your mind has always brushed away the flirting - the kind words and gentle touches as just part of his nature. None of it is reserved just for you.
Right?
Halsin smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners gently as he looks down at you. “Is that really such an outlandish thought? That I return your affections?” He pauses, “unless my heart has run ahead of itself and I have misread-“
You stop him then, reaching up to place a staying hand on his own beneath your chin.
“No! You haven’t…you haven’t misread,” you assure him, trying to still your racing heart.
His smile never falters, his other hand finally coming up to cradle the back of your head, teasing soft strands of hair between his fingers.
“That is good to hear,” he says, pulling you ever closer, his nose almost brushing yours, “it puts this old druid's mind at rest.”
Gods, you can’t breathe. The air in your lungs refusing to expel as he lean even closer, lips a hairbreadth away from your own. Your body sings with anticipation, your skin hot despite the cool air ushered in by the sun sinking below the horizon, the days last rays barely filtering through the trees.
“Can I kiss you, my heart?”
Halsins words are soft, barley a whisper and nearly drowned out by the sounds of nature around you and the roaring of blood in your ears.
You nod. “Please-“
The word barely passes your lips before he descends upon you, sealing his mouth with your own.
It’s both everything you expected and completely surprising at the same time. His hands are sure as he pulls you into him, one hand still cradling your head as the other slips down to your hip before wrapping around your waist. Yet his lips, the kiss itself is…soft. Gentle. Loving. The action speaks louder than any words either of you have said to one another. Louder than the words you never worked up the courage to speak.
Finally, your mind catches up with you, and your hands slide up his chest to clutch tentatively at his shoulders.
Halsins still hasn’t broken away from you, and when his tongue brushes against your lips you let him in. You tug him closer then, one of your hands sliding up to rest at the back of his neck eliminating any empty space between you as his tongue slides against your own.
He only pulls away when he must sense your need for air, but he doesn’t go far, lips pressing gently to the corner of your own, and then another to your jaw.
You’re breathless.
Chest heaving against him, as he pulls away just enough to look at you once more.
“As much as I’d love to continue…” his hand squeezes your hip gently, “we should make our way back to camp. I can imagine our absence as stirred gossip with our vampiric companion and..” he sighs, pressing another soft kiss to your lips. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”
You can’t surprise the shiver that runs down your spine, or the smile that tugs at your lips.
“I’m…I’m okay being overwhelmed if it’s like that,” you tell him breathlessly.
Halsin laughs, a deep down genuine laugh that makes your heart sing even as he steps away from you.
“Then I will overwhelm you in all the ways I know how.” He promises, eyes trailing over you heatedly.
Your stomach does a flip at his words, and the effect they have on you must show on your face because Halsin chuckles again, leaning in to press one last kiss to your cheek before tugging you back in the direction towards camp.
“Another night, my heart,” he says, thumb brushing over your knuckles from where your hand remains in his own.
You let out a shaky breath, and nod, smiling as you walk closer to him. “I’m holding you to that.”
“I hope you would, though I doubt I will forget such a promise,” he assures before letting silence blanket you both one more.
You can’t stop the thrill that runs through you at his words.
Yes, I’ll hold you to that promise indeed.
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with-my-calamitous-love · 4 days ago
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bodyguard! katsuki, who stares daggers at anyone who looks at you the wrong way. whose been breaking hearts a long time, toying with girls before finally taking on this job. who, suddenly, doesn’t have the time to go on dates or even to talk to other people, and who says its because of his job.
bodyguard! katsuki, who is unsurprisingly amazing at his job. nothing gets past him. he’s focused on ensuring your safety at all times, without question. and he insists that includes staying by your side for most of your day.
bodyguard! katsuki, who you make sure accompanies you when you go out at night. who has an iron grip on your drink and waits outside the washroom for you. who downs a shot of vodka before dealing with whatever creeps try to come onto you. who isn’t afraid to rough around and swing at someone if they don’t comply. some might say he’s “gone too far this time.” but who can blame him?
bodyguard! katsuki, is also respectful. who will stand in front of you while you adjust your top. who will put one firm hand on your waist, ushering you into the car while holding the door open for you. who very calmly adjusts his cufflinks after barking at some guy for trying to take photos of you. who makes you lose your mind with how sexy he looks angry.
bodyguard! katsuki, who you slowly learn more and more about. who at first protects you because its his job, but learns to do it because he wants to protect you. who watches over you with a smile on his face, proud, watching you in the spotlight where you belong. who learns he doesn’t always need to be the hero and save you- sometimes, you just need someone to talk to.
bodyguard! katsuki, who sometimes can be insane with how protective he is, but he’s yours. who’s love can be poison ivy or daisy, depending on his mood. who grips your hand a little tighter when he’s walking through the streets with you. who, for you, would do anything. who’d fall from grace and walk into hell to keep a smile on your face. who is a good bodyguard because its him, and because its for you.
✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚
f! reader for nsfw
bodyguard! katsuki, who first spends the night with you when you’re drunk. who doesn’t even think about touching you, because he knows how wrong it would be. who gently tucks you into bed, removes your makeup and shoes for you and sleeps on the couch. who leaves a glass of water and painkillers for you in the morning.
bodyguard! katsuki, who you suddenly want in your home more and more. who you have so much tension with you could cut through it with a knife. who it slowly builds up with: shoulders brushing together, taking unbuttoning his shirt because its hot, watching you take your hair down, his arms moving to your waist.
bodyguard! katsuki, who finally snaps when you tell him you want him. who doesn’t waist a second, throwing you over his shoulder and onto the bed. whose muscles you can see through the white fabric. whose cock you can already see straining against his slacks.
bodyguard! katsuki, who you have to remind you aren’t made of glass. who, after some encouragement, rips your clothes off and bites down on your breast, the pleasure melting with the pain. you’re sure he’ll leave a mark, and you love it.
bodyguard! katsuki, who has a thing about leaving marks- bites, bruises, hickeys- he makes sure every part of your skin has been under his touch. who grips thighs so hard when he’s going down on you, leaving angry red hand prints while his tongue swirls around your clit. who doesn’t stop until your screaming.
bodyguard! katsuki, who knows he’s breaking many, many rules by doing this, but forgets about it the moment his cock slides into you. who fits in you perfectly, stretching you out so good you could cum right then and there. who waits until your comfortable before beginning to thrust.
bodyguard! katsuki, who groans words of encouragement into your ear. “you take me so well, yeah? fuck, you feel so good.” who can’t help but try a little harder when he thinks about all the people who will see you the next day. who knows you’re famous during the day, but wants you to be his tonight.
bodyguard! katsuki, who lasts for hours. who doesn’t stop until you can’t speak, until you’re absolutely stuffed to the brim with him alone. who can’t help but take one of your nipples in his mouth while he’s fucking you, wanting every part of your to mend with him, red eyes watching your hips arch and your head throw back into the pillows.
bodyguard! katsuki, who gets your permission first before cumming in you. who makes a mental note to get you plan b in the morning, but who first can only focus on the sensation of filling you up. who groans and curses when he feels you clench around him, taking every last bit of him in. who takes a few minutes before pulling out. who uses his fingers to make sure it stays inside of you.
bodyguard! katsuki, who places a kiss on your forehead before getting you some water and a warm cloth. who tends to all your bruises after, though you tell him you’re okay. who is just as confused as you are as to what this means, but you who isn’t too concerned about it. who makes sure you want to spend the night with him first, before falling asleep after placing a kiss to your shoulder. who’s there when you wake up, holding you. who knows he’s got you for as long as you’ll have him.
bodyguard! katsuki, who laughs to himself in the background of an interview when fans ask if you were attacked by some wild animal.
@crushmeeren 🫧🫧
inspired by dont blame me ��
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liz-on-leash · 1 month ago
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Live To Breed
[Commissioned]
VIVIZ SinB/Hwang Eunbi
Gangrape, Mentioned Death, BBC Tribesmen, Breeding, A Lot Of Cum, Vaginal Fuck, Anal, Pregnant Fuck, Some Other Heavy Stuff.
3,919 Word.
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The day started like any other for VIVIZ, but shit was about to hit the fan in the most fucked-up way possible. SinB, the feisty one, Eunha, and sweet Umji were bouncing around in their jeep, deep in the heart of the African jungle, looking for some thrill.
The girls were living their best lives, laughing and joking, when all hell broke loose. A freaking stampede came outta nowhere, like some shit from a horror movie. The driver hit the brakes, but it was a lost cause. 
The jeep went flying, and SinB went airborne, straight into a goddamn tree. Her clothes ripped like wet tissue paper, and she was left bruised and bleeding, screaming her lungs out.
"FUUUUCK!" SinB howled in agony, her voice raw as a guttural scream. Her sexy outfit was in shreds, exposing her smooth skin, now marked with scratches and cuts that would make a horror flick proud. 
She tried to get her ass up, but her body was like jelly, trembling and weak. Where the hell were Eunha and Umji? She cried out for them, her voice fading in the vast jungle.
The jungle, usually buzzing with life, went dead quiet, like it was mourning the crazy shit that just went down. SinB's pleas for help bounced off the trees, her voice cracking with each desperate call. 
The pain was a bitch, clouding her vision, but she fought to stay conscious, refusing to black out. As the sun started its slow descent, painting the sky with fiery colors, a crew of hulking dudes appeared, straight out of a tribal wet dream. 
These motherfuckers were ripped, their dark skin glistening with sweat, and all they wore were tiny-ass loincloths that left nothing to the imagination. Their bodies were inked up with tribal tats, and their eyes held a wild intensity.
SinB's mouth hung open as she took in the sight, momentarily forgetting her pain. These dudes were built like gods, and their sheer size made her feel like a tiny doll. 
They muttered to each other in some ancient tongue, their deep voices rumbling like thunder, probably discussing the hot mess of a woman in front of them.
"Help... please, help me," SinB managed to whisper, her voice scratchy and weak. The men's eyes narrowed, their gazes intense enough to burn holes through her. 
They didn't give a shit about her plea, probably thinking she was some crazy jungle spirit. The biggest dude among them strode over, his muscles flexing with each step. He scooped SinB up like she weighed nothing, causing her to whimper.
This beast of a man carried her through the jungle like she was his prize catch. SinB's eyes darted around, taking in the unfamiliar sights of their camp. It was like a scene from a National Geographic documentary, with buff dudes going about their business, their bodies glistening with sweat and dirt.
These savages didn't waste time with pleasantries. They ripped what was left of SinB's clothes, leaving her in her skimpy underwear, her curves on full display. 
She tried to cover up, but these guys didn't give a damn about modesty. They cleaned her wounds, their rough hands exploring her body, and wrapped her up with some dirty-ass cloth.
"Fuck off!" SinB tried to fight, but it was like a kitten swatting at a lion. A sharp slap landed on her face. "Ugh!" She tasted blood, her lip split open. Another jab to her ribs had her gasping, reminding her just how helpless she was.
The men finished patching her up and shoved some weird-ass herbal shit down her throat. SinB choked and spluttered, her eyes watering from the bitter taste. 
Satisfied, two of them grabbed her, ignoring her weak struggles, and hauled her ass to a nearby barn. Inside, it was like a damn dungeon, filled with terrified women from different corners of the world.
The women were a sorry sight, some crying their eyes out, others moaning in pain, their bellies swollen with pregnancy. SinB's heart hammered in her chest as she realized she'd landed in some tribal sex cult's lair. She tried to scream, but her voice was shot.
Just then, all hell broke loose outside. A group of the tribal dudes, their massive cocks swinging free, dragged a screaming woman outta the camp. Her pleas were met with laughter and crude catcalls.
The men's laughter was like a sick chorus, their eyes wild with lust. SinB's blurry vision focused on their massive dicks, already hard as steel, ready to invade some poor woman's body.
The men wasted no time, and the woman's screams echoed through the camp, a haunting soundtrack to the night's twisted festivities. SinB's eyes fluttered, her mind overwhelmed by the day's events. 
The last thing she saw before passing out was the terrified faces of the captive women, knowing their fate was about to get a whole lot worse.
The night had turned into a fucked-up, twisted sex fest, and SinB was front-row center for this sick tribal ritual. Her eyes popped open as the barn erupted with screams and moans.
The women, who were once crying their eyes out, were now getting pounded by these tribal beasts, their cries echoing like a damn horror movie.
"Oh fuck, mercy, please! No more!" a woman begged, her voice raw from screaming her lungs out. But the men just kept pounding her from every angle, their dark, sweaty bodies slamming into her like wild animals.
"Harder, you motherfuckers! Break me in half!" another chick screamed, her body bucking as two dudes took turns drilling her, their cocks stretching her holes like she was some damn sex toy. 
The scene was brutal, but damn, it was hot as hell. Even the preggo ladies weren't off-limits.
"No, not my ass! My baby... oh, fuck, no!" a pregnant woman wailed, her eyes rolling back as a dude hammered her ass, not giving a damn about her swollen belly. The sight was enough to make SinB's stomach churn.
SinB's eyes were like saucers, taking in the savage display of raw, animalistic fucking. Her body ached to run, but she might as well have been glued to the ground. She tried to crawl away, but it was like trying to escape a pack of hungry wolves.
"Please, just let me go, you bastards!" SinB's voice was raspy, barely a whisper.
These dudes weren't having any of it. They grabbed her like she was their personal plaything. One dude chuckled, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine.
They pinned her down, their rough hands holding her arms and legs, spreading her wide open like a buffet. SinB screamed and kicked, but it only made these animals harder.
"Let me go, you animals! Help!" SinB's pleas were desperate, but they just laughed, their eyes wild with lust.
The dude on top of her, his cock already hard as steel, ripped her panties off like they were nothing. "No, stop! Get your hands off me!" SinB shouted, her voice breaking as he groped her tits, squeezing and twisting her sensitive nipples until she saw stars.
Pissed off by her resistance, the dude stood up and stomped on her stomach, making her gag and cough. Before SinB could catch her breath, another dude was on top of her, his thick cock aiming straight for her mouth.
SinB's eyes widened as his cock invaded her, stretching her jaws to the max. This dude was packing an anaconda, and it hit the back of her throat, making her gag and choke.
He grunted, face-fucking her like a pro. SinB's throat bulged, moving up and down, her eyes watering, snot and spit flying as he pounded her face. Another dude cheered, slapping her ass hard enough to leave a mark.
The dude pounding her face went to town, his balls slapping against her chin, making her gag and choke some more. SinB's body shook, her bound hands clawing at the dirt, her throat working overtime to take that massive cock.
He growled, his hips slamming into her aching throat. SinB's eyes rolled back, tears mixing with the spit and snot as she struggled to breathe. Her throat was on fire, but this dude wasn't letting up, his cock throbbing, ready to unload his cum down her throat.
The barn had become a twisted, hardcore sex dungeon, where SinB's screams and the other women's cries were the soundtrack to a night of brutal, non-stop gangrape.
The tribal black men were on a roll, and SinB's mouth was their fuck toy. These motherfuckers took turns shoving their thick, veiny cocks down her throat, face-fucking her like she was their personal cum dumpster. 
SinB choked and gagged, her eyes watering like a waterfall as she tried to take their massive cocks. One guy gripped her hair like a leash as he pounded her face. SinB's throat was getting fucked raw, her gag reflex going crazy, but these animals just kept going harder.
Another guy shouted, slapping her face with his thick palm. SinB's cheeks stung, but he didn't give a shit as he jammed his cock down her throat, making her eyes bulge like a cartoon.
"Can't... breathe!" SinB managed to gasp between the thrusts, her voice muffled and desperate. But these savages just laughed, their rough hands holding her head like a pet, forcing her to take their cocks.
One after another, they blasted their hot cum down her throat, making her swallow their seed like it was her job. SinB's belly was swelling, her throat on fire, and she felt like she was gonna puke her guts out.
"No more... gonna puke!" she whimpered, her eyes pleading for mercy but a hard slap landed on her cheek, making her see stars.
One man growled, grabbing her hair and forcing her mouth open for his throbbing cock. SinB gagged, her throat convulsing as he face-fucked her with zero fucks given.
These native men were all about getting their rocks off, and they didn't care about her comfort. Some even used her hands and thighs to jerk off, covering her skin with their hot, sticky loads. SinB's body was a mess, covered in sweat, cum, and bruises.
The barn was a horror show, with women's screams and moans filling the air. SinB's eyes darted around, witnessing shit that would give her nightmares for life.
"Help... I'm pregnant! Have mercy!" a woman begged, her belly shook as two men double-battered her pussy and ass. The poor chick was screaming, but they just kept pounding until she went quiet, her body limp and her holes bleeding.
A man grunted, his cock buried deep in the ass of a woman who was clearly out cold. SinB watched in horror as he pumped away, not giving a damn about the blood or the fact that she wasn't even conscious.
“No, no, no– Oh god!" another woman cried, her body arched and bruised as three huge black men took turns violating her. Her screams turned to whines, then silence as the pain overwhelmed her.
SinB's throat was on fire, and her stomach felt like it was gonna explode from all the cum she'd been forced to swallow. When a cock finally pulled out of her mouth, she puked, spewing a mix of cum and bile.
"Fuck— argh, can't swallow anymore!" she begged. But they didn't give a shit. A sharp slap landed on her mouth, making her eyes water.
A man barked, grabbing her hair and shoving his cock back in her mouth. SinB gagged and choked, her throat working achingly to take his thickness as he fucked her face with no mercy. These tribesmen made sure to mark her as their territory. 
They flooded her mouth, on her body, and even made her lick their balls. SinB's body trembled in disgust, her throat and mouth abused, but they just kept going, their cocks throbbing and unloading their semen wherever they pleased. 
Time had lost all meaning for SinB as the assault on her mouth continued. These tribal studs had been using her face as their personal cum dump for hours, forcing her to swallow load after load, even as she puked it all up. 
Her stomach felt like it was gonna burst, her belly swollen and hard, a testament to the endless cumshots she'd been forced to take.
SinB's body was a mess, her once flawless skin now glistening with sweat, her hair sticking to her forehead. 
Her lips were swollen and bruised, gaping open as if they'd forgotten how to close, and her throat was on fire, like she'd swallowed a flaming blade. She couldn't feel her face anymore; it was just a numb, throbbing mess.
Her curvy body had gone limp, her arms splayed out on the dirty ground, but the men held her head up, ensuring her mouth was always available for their pleasure, cocks sliding down her throat, making her gag and choke, her eyes rolling back in her head.
SinB's mind was fuzzy, her body exhausted, but the men showed no signs of stopping. Her throat was so fucked, it felt like a permanent part of their cocks was lodged in there. She couldn't even swallow her own spit without pain.
As another thick release was forced down her throat, SinB's body went into overdrive. She convulsed, her eyes rolling back, and for a moment, she thought she was gonna pass out. The man finally pulled out, letting her fall to the ground like a ragdoll.
SinB gasped for air, her body twitching uncontrollably, her throat and mouth leaking cum and saliva. She lay there, unable to move, her eyes pleading for this nightmare to end. The men, however, seemed to be just getting started.
They stood around her, stroking their hard cocks, their eyes wild with lust as they discussed their next move. SinB prayed for death, for the sweet release of unconsciousness, but the gods weren't listening.
Suddenly, a massive man stepped on her swollen stomach, making her cry out in pain. He twisted his foot, and SinB's body betrayed her, spewing cum and pee, her throat and pussy leaking like broken faucets.
"Oh god– fucking hurts…" she whispered, her voice barely audible. The man just laughed, his deep voice echoing in her ears. He then grabbed her ankles, dragging her out of the barn, away from the screams of the other tortured women.
SinB's heart sank as she realized this was far from over. She was being dragged to the center of the camp, where a crowd of over fifty tribal men awaited, their bodies naked and glistening with some ritual oil.
"No… just kill me," SinB mumbled, her voice weak and defeated. She wanted this torture to end, but the men had other plans. The idol's worst fears were about to be realized as the tribe prepared for a night of depraved rituals.
SinB was done fighting, her body limp as a rag doll as the men chained her up like a sacrificial lamb in the middle of this tribal orgy. They tossed her onto the wooden platform, her stomach heaving, causing her to spew out the cum she'd swallowed earlier.
The men were quick to secure her, chaining her wrists and neck, ensuring she was their helpless plaything. Her curvy body was on full display, the torchlight highlighting every inch of her skin.
A dude with a lean build grabbed her hair, forcing her to look up at him as he poured some weird-ass green liquid down her throat. It was some tribal shit to keep her awake and ready for their sick games. SinB gagged on the bitter taste, but at this point, she was beyond caring.
The crowd went wild as the first man stepped into the spotlight, his cock so big it swung between his legs like a damn pendulum. This dude was a fuckin' beast, and he was about to tear SinB a new one.
He crouched down, his hands gripping her soft hips like they were made for him. He lifted her ass, positioning her on her knees, showcasing her plump, round cheeks. The motherfucker poured oil on her ass, his touch making her tremble.
SinB's ass was a sight to behold, and this dude knew it. He massaged the oil into her skin, his thick-ass thumb getting dangerously close to her tight hole. With a deliberate move, he pushed his thumb into her asshole, making her scream like a banshee.
"Fuck! Stop, you bastard!" SinB cursed, her body going rigid as she felt her ass being stretched beyond its limits. The dude's thumb worked her hole, making her scream and beg, her struggles against the chains useless.
The pain was off the charts, her ass on fire as he finger-fucked her, preparing her for the main event. SinB twisted and turned, her body a mess of desperation, but the dude held her hips like a vice.
Before she knew it, his thumb was out, and his massive cock was at her entrance, ready to breach her tight hole. With one brutal thrust, he impaled her ass, making her eyes roll back.
"Ahhhh, fuck! It's too big! It's splitting me— it's in my guts!" SinB screamed, her voice shaking. 
His cock was a monster, tearing through her sphincter like it was nothing. She felt it stretching her insides, poking places no cock should go.
The man held her hips, his cock buried balls-deep, and started pounding her ass like it was a punching bag. SinB's body jolted with each thrust, her pee spraying out as her bladder broken.
The crowd went nuts, their cheers filling the air as the man brutalized her ass, his cock owning her with each brutal stroke. SinB's screams were music to their ears.
The big dude was merciless, slamming his cock into SinB's ass like a jackhammer, her body taking the full force. Her legs were straight, toes pointed, as she endured the sensation of being impaled, her asshole stretched to its limits. It felt like she was trying to poop out a watermelon, but it just kept going deeper.
SinB's eyes were rolled back, her mouth hanging open, drool dripping down her chin as she groaned and whimpered. Her pale tits scraped against the rough wood with each jerking motion. 
The man grunted like a wild animal, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock even deeper. SinB's ass clenched around him, milking his cock as he pounded her hole. 
The pleasure was too much, with a few more deep thrusts, he exploded inside her, his hot cum filling her ass. He pulled out, his cock glistening with lube and cum, leaving SinB's ass gaping and sore. 
She collapsed onto the platform, her body trembling, unable to move or speak. But there was no respite for the idol.
Another tall, muscular guy stepped up, his cock already slick with oil. He knelt behind her, slapping her leaking pussy, making her jerk and whimper. SinB knew the routine by now, and she bit her lip, bracing herself for the incoming invasion.
A few men gathered around her head, their cocks in hand, stroking and getting off on the sight of her oily, abused body. One dude even stepped on her head, his foot pressing down as he admired the show.
The man behind her positioned his thick cockhead at her pussy lips, teasing her entrance. SinB's body tensed, anticipating the pain. With a slow gesture, he pushed inside, making her moan and arch her back.
"Ahh, shit, shit— My pussy, uhhh!" SinB cried out as his swollen tip popped through her tight pussy lips, stretching her beyond her limits right away. Her pussy clenched around his cock, resisting the invasion, but he kept forcing his way in, inch by inch.
The man was tenacious, his cock a battering ram, pushing past her resistant flesh. SinB screamed and shook, her body a mess of pain as he yanked her onto his cock, burying it deep in her pussy.
Her pee sprayed around his girth, an indication of the intensity of the insertion. The men laughed, their eyes wild with unsatiated lust as the man kept punching her inner walls, his cock slamming against her cervix with each thrust. 
The sudden pleasure was intense, causing SinB's body to tremble and convulse, her pussy clenching around his cock as she climaxed, her juices flowing and mixing with his. But the pleasure was short-lived as his cock kept pounding, hitting her cervix with lethal impact, causing searing pain.
"Ahhh! Fuck, stop!" SinB cried, her body arching off the platform as the man lost control, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper. Blood trickled down her thighs as her pussy was torn and ravaged, the pain almost unbearable.
The man was in a trance, his cock throbbing as he emptied his load deep inside her, breeding her pussy with his cum. He pulled out, his cock glistening with her juices and blood, leaving SinB's pussy gaping and sore.
The men weren't done with her yet. They forced her to drink more of their herbal drugs, keeping her conscious. They even splashed water on her, cleaning the blood and dirt from her body, their rough hands scrubbing her skin.
SinB's body was chained tighter, her wrists and neck secured, ensuring she couldn't escape the breeding that awaited her. More tribesmen lined up, their cocks hard and ready to take over her abused holes.
Day after day, the ritual continued, with over 60 men taking their turns with her every single day. They raped her solo, double-penetrated her, and even tried triple penetration, stretching - tearing her holes beyond their limits. SinB's screams and moans were a constant soundtrack in the camp.
The only sustenance she received was their cum, fed to her by force, enough to keep her alive and fertile for their breeding games. Her memories of her past life as an idol faded, replaced by the constant sensation of huge cocks filling her sore, aching holes.
For weeks, SinB's disappearance was headline news in South Korea. The authorities found Eunha and Umji's bodies, but SinB remained a mystery. Little did they know, she was deep in the African jungle, being bred by a tribe of men.
Weeks turned into a blur for SinB, her body now permanently marked by the tribe's ownership. Her once flat stomach now sported a slight bulge, a result of the countless times she'd been bred. 
The men had moved her to the barn, where she joined the ranks of other pregnant women, all awaiting the birth of their tribal offspring.
SinB was on all fours, a leash around her neck, her body of stretch marks and bruises. Two tribesmen stood beside her, their rough hands massaging her swollen breasts, tugging at her nipples until milk squirted into a bucket, proof of her fertility - the only reason that kept her alive.
Behind her, a group of men took turns with her ass, their cocks pounding her hole to stimulate her milk production. Her pussy, already dripping with cum from the men who had just used her, was a constant reminder of her fate.
The once vibrant K-pop idol was gone, replaced by a shell of a woman, her body a vessel for the tribe's pleasure and procreation. 
SinB's mind was a haze, her memories of her past life fading with each brutal fucking. She was now a breeding machine, her body existing solely to produce the next generation of this unknown tribe.
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serpentandlily · 1 year ago
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Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Reader
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Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Archeron!Reader
Summary: You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one.
Warnings: use of the nickname bunny
Based on THIS request.
· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·
Gods, you were going to be in so much trouble. You kept your fast pace as you walked through the woods, keeping your eye out for anything, anything, that might help you. The only reason you even knew where you were was the red and golden leaves adorning the trees, the scent of cinnamon and rain hanging in the crisp air. Autumn. You were in the Autumn Court. 
You had just been practicing winnowing with Rhys, your brother-in-law. Since the war ended, the Inner Circle was finally spending more time helping you learn your magic. You had wanted to learn, to do more, ever since you had been turned fae, tossed in the cauldron like your sisters.
But being the youngest meant also having to take a back seat sometimes. Feyre and Nesta never let you do anything. Never let you help in any way. Not much changed after you had been turned fae. 
The sound of dogs howling made you pause in your tracks. You stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. They could be farm dogs, it could mean that someone was nearby, someone who could help you. 
But you knew of the type of fae in the Autumn Court and it could also be someone who’d try to hurt you. You bit your lip, finally deciding to make a run for it as the howling got closer.
You took off down a line of trees, pushing yourself to run as fast as you could to create some distance between you and the pack of dogs. But a few stumbles over fallen branches and you could hear the pounding of their paws not far behind you. 
A bark had you looking over your shoulder, cursing as you saw the hounds close behind. They yelped with excitement as they caught sight of you, picking up their pace. 
Pain, awful, debilitating pain, rushed through your leg and you screamed, falling to the ground. You flipped yourself over to see your foot stuck in the claws of a bear trap, the metal prongs piercing through your skin. You cursed as you realized they must’ve been herding you here. 
You let out another cry as you forced yourself to sit up and scoot closer to the trap. The dogs were still running at you and you desperately tried to yank the trap apart, to free your foot. 
It was no use; the dogs were too fast. Faster than any dogs you’d ever encountered. You could do nothing but throw your arms over your face and scream, hoping someone would hear you before you were mauled to death by a pack of dogs. 
To your utter shock, the feeling of teeth ripping into your flesh never came. You slowly put your arms down to see twelve hounds running in a circle around you, yapping and howling into the air. Each one gray and sleek like smoke. 
Footsteps coming from behind you had you whipping around, eyes wide. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of a male. A very handsome male with silky red hair, whiskey amber eyes, and pale skin. He was tall, lithe, but he had the top three buttons of his shirt undone, giving you a glimpse of the muscles beneath. 
The cobalt coat he wore was finely crafted, along with his pants and shoes. The haughty expression on his face told you exactly who you were looking at—Eris, the Heir of Autumn.
You swallowed audibly as he smirked down at you, coming to a halt a few paces away. 
“Well what do we have here?” His voice was smooth like silk and it sent a shiver down your spine. 
You said nothing as he let out a sharp whistle and the hounds circling you halted before running to his side. They sat behind him like perfect little guards, their unusual eyes still on you. You looked back up at the male, who had just stumbled upon you, trapped. He walked around your form, much like his hounds had been doing. 
You couldn’t find any words. Mostly because of the pain of the bear trap ripping through your shin and foot. But also because you had only really ever heard horror stories about Eris—about his cruelty and cunning nature. 
Eris’s fox-like face smirked down at you in amusement. “My hounds seem to have herded a little bunny into one of my traps. Do you have a name, bunny?”
Should you tell him who you were? That you were one of the Archeron sisters, that you were from the Night Court? You knew briefly through listening in on Feyre’s conversations that they considered Eris an ally. But they also said he could hardly be trusted. 
“Does the little bunny not have a voice?” Eris purred, still circling around you like a predator playing with its food. “Hm, let me guess. The golden brown hair and the big, brown doe eyes that look incredibly similar to my brother’s mate’s…Have I trapped an Archeron?”
You used the sleeve of your dress to wipe at the tear tracks on your cheeks. You tried to back away from him, but the movement only jostled your leg, causing a small whimper to escape your throat. 
“I-I’m not sure how I ended up here, my Lord,” you mumbled. Gods, you felt pathetic. “Can you p-please help me?”
Eris tilted his head at you, in an animalistic way you still weren’t used to with the fae. He studied you for a moment before another smirk bloomed on his handsome fox-like face. He was picturesque with his disarming beauty.
“You see, I think this is all a bit unfair. You seem to know who I am, but you still haven’t told me your name, little bunny.” He knelt down next to you, reaching a gloved hand out to push some of your hair from your face. 
It should’ve alarmed you, his closeness, the touch of his hand. But for some reason, it didn’t. You swallowed again, considering your options. Maybe he would help you get home. 
“I’m one of Feyre’s sisters,” you managed to stutter out. 
“Is that so?” He seemed to be enjoying this. “And what is the name of the bunny I’ve managed to trap?” 
You mumbled your name out loud, glancing around the meadow you were in, at the hounds that were now all laying down, still staring at you. You blinked at them and the biggest one, the leader of the pack, stood suddenly. You kept your eyes trained on her as she marched over to you, shaking as you examined her large head, her jaw that could easily rip your throat out. 
But to your surprise, she merely meandered over to you and brushed her head against yours, letting out a low whine. Your eyes widened, looking over at Eris for a second to see a flicker of shock cross his face. The hound let out a small yip before licking the side of your face, drawing out a surprised giggle from you. Was she trying to…comfort you? 
“Ashera,” Eris said sternly with a snap of the fingers. But the hound merely glanced at him and then went back to nudging you with her fluffy head. 
You raised a shaky hand and stroked her back, bewildered by the dog's behavior. She licked you up the side of your face again and Eris said her name a little louder this time, making her ears twitch. She whined at him but listened, going back to the other dogs. 
“I didn’t know there was a fourth Archeron sister. Where have they been hiding you?” Eris asked, drawing your attention back to him. “And why?”
You shrugged your shoulders. Had they been hiding you? No one has ever mentioned keeping you a secret. “I-I don’t know.”
He waved a hand in the air, summoning a piece of parchment and pen. He quickly scribbled something on it before flicking it away. You watched it disappear with awe, still taken aback by the use of magic. 
Eris seemed to remember you were still stuck. He let out a sigh and placed his hands on both sides of the trap. He paused to look at you. “Sorry, little bunny, but this is going to hurt.”
And then he pulled the trap apart with his bare hands. You let out a loud cry as the metal spikes were pulled out of your leg. You whimpered, pulling your knee to your chest as you examined the damage to your shin. 
Blood was now gushing from the wounds that circled around your shin. You grabbed some of your skirt in your hand, intending to use it to put pressure on the wounds but Eris’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist. 
“Don’t do that,” he hissed. “Are you dumb? Your skirt is covered in dirt and mud. You’ll only infect it.”
Your cheeks turned red with embarrassment. He reached a hand towards you but now free from the trap, you scrambled away from him with a whimper. He let out an amused chuckle.
“No need to be frightened, little bunny,” he purred. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
You looked at him warily as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dangling it in the air between the two of you. You swallowed audibly but didn’t move as he approached again and wrapped it around your ankle as a makeshift gauze. 
He hummed, standing up and brushing invisible dirt from his pants. “Now, are you going to tell me why exactly an Archeron is in my court?”
“I was learning how to winnow. I-I don’t know how I ended up here. One minute I was in Velaris and then next, I was here.” 
He clicked his tongue, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Interesting. Well, come on. Let’s get to Spring so someone can come retrieve you before you get yourself killed.”
Eris held at his gloved hand to you. You took it, letting him help you rise from the ground, trying to keep weight off your injured ankle. As soon as you were up, he winnowed the two of you away. 
A moment later, you appeared on the border of Autumn and Spring. You would’ve fallen over if it wasn’t for Eris grabbing you by the upper arm. You blushed, muttering a small thank you.
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to walk the rest of the way so we don’t set off any wards that will alert my father,” Eris said, coolly. 
He set off and you trailed after him, hobbling slowly because of your injury. You only made it a few paces before Eris turned around. 
“Hurry it up, bunny, I don’t have all day.”
Your eyes narrowed at him. “Sorry, it’s a little hard to walk considering my foot was just in a bear trap.”
Eris tsked, looking down at your ankle before his eyes trailed up your form. He let out a sigh and strided back to you. Before you could even figure out what he was doing, he grabbed you by the waist and tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
You squeaked in surprise. “What are you doing?! Put me down!”
“Like I said, I don’t have all day,” Eris said, stalking off towards the border to Spring. You jostled on his shoulder with each step he took but he held you firmly with an arm around your thighs like you weighed absolutely nothing. 
You pounded on his back with your fists. “Ugh, Let me down!”
“You even hit with the strength of a rabbit,” Eris laughed to himself, ignoring your attempts to free yourself from his hold. 
“Jerk,” you scoffed, crossing your arms as you dangled there. 
Eris just laughed again. You bickered with him all the way to a clearing where he finally came to a stop and put you down. You huffed, smoothing down your dress and hair as you glared up at him. 
“You’re welcome,” he purred with an arrogant smile. 
The shadows around the clearing seemed to move in a flurry and then a familiar face stepped out of the darkness. 
“Get away from her,” Azriel growled at Eris.
Eris held his hands up, that smile never leaving his face as Azriel stalked towards you. His eyes narrowed as he sniffed, smelling the blood on you.
“Did he hurt you?” Azriel asked, his tone dark. He grabbed you by the arm and yanked you to his side, causing you to stumble. 
Before you could even open your mouth, Eris cut in.
“Must you have such a low opinion of me, shadowsinger.” Eris wore that fox-like grin again. “I haven’t harmed a single hair on her head.”
Azriel looked to you, waiting for you to verify his story.
“He speaks the truth, Azriel,” you said, clutching your ankle. “I ran into a bear trap on my own. He helped me out of it and brought me here.”
“And why were you running?” Azriel tossed Eris a glare.
“His d-dogs scared me. But they’re friendly,” you replied, trying to ease the tension in the air. 
Eris scoffed, as if no one had ever referred to his hounds as friendly before. 
Azriel looked at you with exasperation. “Come on, let’s get you home. No need to linger here.” He glared at Eris one last time. 
Before you could protest, he hoisted you up into his arms. You glanced at Eris one last time to see a moment of shock cross his face as he met your gaze.
“Thank you,” you called out as you gave him a small wave before you were swept away in the shadows.
· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·
You didn’t see Eris again for months. Not until Winter Solstice, when it had been decided that Nesta would try to intrigue him enough to keep him as a steady ally. When Elain had declared that she was going to join the Inner Circle in the Court of Nightmares, you had demanded to be taken as well, despite arguments from nearly everyone. But you were tired of being treated like a baby.
You had gotten your way in the end, after agreeing to strict orders to stay at the foot of the dais the entire time. It wasn’t ideal but it was something…better than staying home. 
You were dressed in a black tulle, A-line gown. The bodice was sheer but adorned with lace appliques embedded with shining silver gems. It had a sweetheart neckline and off the shoulder lace straps. It swept the floor with tulle and lace, pooling at your feet like dark water. It was beautiful, more girlish than the dress Nesta was wearing but not as plain as Elain’s modest, long-sleeved dress. 
You stood at the bottom of the dais next to your sisters, between the two Illyrian warriors, as your sister addressed the crowd. Eris was standing next to Keir at the head of the gathered crowd, dressed in Night Court black himself. It was hard to deny how truly beautiful he was—especially with his striking red hair contrasting the black so well. You could feel his eyes on you from time to time but kept your gaze forward. 
 “May the blessings of the Winter Solstice be upon you,” Feyre declared. 
Keir was the first to approach with a low bow. “Allow me to extend my congratulations.”
“And allow me to extend mine as well, on behalf of my father and the entire Autumn Court.” Eris had stalked forward as well, giving your sister a pretty, cultivated smile. “He shall be thrilled by the news.” 
“I’m sure he will.” Rhys kept his eyes trained on the Autumn Heir. “Music!” 
An orchestra began playing and Feyre raised her voice and said, “Go—eat.”
The crowd slowly began to dissipate. Keir also disappeared as half the crowd began to dance seamlessly to the music. 
“Before you join the merriment, Eris,” Rhys drawled. “I’d like to present you with your Solstice gift.”
You tuned out the conversation, taking in the rest of the throne room. It was your first time here in Hewn City. It was as monstrous as expected. But beautiful still, in the dark way that screamed Night. 
You tuned back into the conversation just as Feyre spoke, “Ordinarily I would ask you to dance, but my condition has left me unwell enough that I worry about what so much spinning would do to my stomach.” 
She looked at the three of you, as if deciding who she would offer to the Heir of Autumn even though it had already been decided. Elain gave a passable impression of appearing interested, as she had been directed to. Nesta just looked bored. Rhys and Feyre had given you no direction, claiming Eris would be tempted more by power and a wide-eyed, young girl, as they had called you, would not be of interest to him. 
“My oldest sister shall take my place.” 
But it was like Eris hadn’t heard Feyre speak as he stepped forward and stopped in front of you, not Nesta. You blinked at him, your brows raising with confusion as he extended his hand to you, an open invitation. 
“I’ll take the little bunny,” Eris purred with that fox-like grin. He kept his amber eyes on you, not looking towards Feyre despite speaking to her. “If the Lady agrees, of course.” 
“I-I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the dances, my Lord,” you said, politely, ignoring the hand outstretched to you as your cheeks turned red at the attention. 
Eris didn’t back down. “That’s quite alright. I’ve been told I’m a good lead.” 
You glanced at Feyre and Rhys, uncertain of what you were supposed to do. This wasn’t the plan. Eris was never supposed to take interest in you. You were a speck of dust compared to the power rolling off Nesta—power, the only thing he was supposed to care about. 
You felt talons scrape your mind and let your sister in.
Just go with it for now. We’ll send in Azriel to take over before it goes too far. 
You slipped your hand in Eris’s hold and let him escort you to the dance floor just as the dance finished and the introductory strains of the next began. You couldn’t wipe the wide-eyed look off your face as much as you tried to. You placed your free hand on his shoulder just as his broad hand slid around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.
You blushed, somehow turning even more red than you already had been. 
He leaned down to whisper in your ear just as the violins began their song. 
“And so the fox ensnares the bunny again.” 
Your eyes narrowed at him. “Stop calling me that.” 
“Why?” he purred, beginning to lead you into the dance. “It just seems so fitting.” 
“It’s not,” you grumbled, trying not to stumble over your own feet. You were lucky that this waltz was similar to the one from the human lands or else you would have surely embarrassed yourself already. 
The pair of you finished your first rotation around the dance floor in silence but that smirk never seemed to leave Eris’s face to your annoyance. Flame simmered in his eyes, never leaving yours for a second. You felt something flutter in your chest. 
“So,” Eris finally spoke. “Have your owners finally let you out of your cage?” 
“I am not caged here,” you murmured. “Just because they don’t find you pleasant company, doesn’t mean I haven’t been allowed around others.” 
You snapped your mouth shut, a brief wave of horror passing through you. You had just insulted him. You had just done the opposite of what was supposed to be happening tonight. But to your surprise, Eris just chuckled, not seeming offended at all. 
“Do you find me unpleasant, Lady?”
“I remain undecided, my Lord,” you said. “Though everyone certainly has a lot to say about you.”
“What lies have they told you about me, sweetheart?” He twirled your around again, your skirt swishing in the air. A faint fluttering of butterflies grew in your stomach. 
“What are these lies you speak of, my Lord?”
You tried to channel your sister but it came out so wrong. You didn’t sound as aloof as her. Nor as cold. 
“Don’t try to play the game they want you to.” Eris’s smirk grew into a grin. “It does not suit you, bunny.” 
“Maybe if you stopped playing games, I wouldn’t feel the need to as well,” you muttered with a frown. Eris’s grin sharpened. 
You were failing at this task. Failing so profoundly that it was embarrassing. You hoped your family couldn’t hear this conversation. 
“This is not a game to me, little bunny,” Eris purred, his grip around your waist tightening. “None of it is.”
“Your behavior seems to say otherwise. So does your reputation.” 
“Do I not ally myself with this court under constant threat of being discovered and killed by my father? Do I not offer aid whenever Rhysand wishes?” 
“That matters little to me, my Lord,” you said. “I am not a piece on this political chessboard you seem to have with Rhysand.” 
“So what matters to you, Y/n?” Eris kept pace with the other dancers and you followed his lead as best as you could. “Tell me. I wish to know.” 
Your hand slipped from his shoulder, down to his chest and right over his beating heart. “This. This is what matters to me. I would rather someone good of heart over someone with power.” 
“How sweet,” Eris teased. “How naive.” 
“Gods forbid someone be hopeful for the goodness of people to be the change in this world,” you bristled. 
To your surprise, Eris merely smirked once again. “Goodness cannot exist amongst cruelty, sweetheart. Just as hope cannot exist under the burden of responsibility.” 
You studied him closely. “Aren’t you tired of putting on a show, Eris? I have seen monsters. You do not seem like one of them.” 
Eris yanked you closer and your heart began to pound in your chest. “Then I’d say you haven’t seen enough of the world and its monsters if you truly believe that, bunny.”
“Stop calling me that!” 
“Wide-eyed, fluffy tailed,” Eris listed off, his fox-like grin returning. “Still has hope that she can change the world. I have seen this story, sweetheart. I know how it ends. Perhaps it would be best for you to return to your safe, little burrow where you belong.” 
A wave of anger crashed into you, your body heating up. 
“You don’t get to tell me where I belong. No one does,” you huffed. “Especially not a jerk who doesn’t have dreams of his own and lets everyone else dictate who he is!” 
Eris didn’t seem perturbed by your impassioned speech. If anything, his grin seemed to grow. You hadn’t even realized the song had ended and that the two of you had come to a halt on the edge of the dance floor, too lost in your anger. 
“You’re just going to have to learn the hard way, sweetheart. You think having dreams and hope makes you something but it doesn’t. It can’t.” Your hand dropped from his chest as he brought the one he was holding up to his lips.  “You are only ever going to be what others think you are.”
He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before letting it fall to your side.  
“Sly fox.” He pointed to himself before turning his hand to you in a sweeping gesture. “Dumb bunny.” 
“I am not a dumb bunny,” you growled. 
“Right,” he drawled in a teasing manner that infuriated you. “And you are definitely not caged here, either.” 
Your eyes widened as he strode away from you, disappearing in the crowd but not before he tossed one last remark over his shoulder, “I’ll catch you later, bunny.”
You stared at his back as a scarred hand landed on your shoulder with a firm grip, knocking you out of your stupor. You looked up at Azriel, at his cold, unreadable face that stared down at you. 
“Come on,” he murmured. “I’ve been ordered to take you back home.”
And just like that, your night–and freedom—was over. Eris’s words and his stupidly handsome face haunted you the entire journey back to Velaris. 
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darnell-la · 3 months ago
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Can you do a follow up with the project x!wolverine x government employee!reader (it can be smut or not I just really like that story)
𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗧 𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗞𝗘 𝗢𝗨𝗧 (ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ)
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pairing: project x!logan howlett x government employee!reader
warnings: tied up, trapped, sniffing, hunting down, roughly fucked against a tree, pinned, choking, “dragged” through the woods, fucked on the patio, ass slapping, hair pulling, etc.
note: we will be making a part three where they contact Charles's school for mutants to warn them about the government, but the government hacked into their call and found out where Logan was hiding out and keeping y/n.
Logan will be more sweet in the next one as y/n grows out of the fear of him.
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———
when y/n woke up, she was dangling from the ceiling by her wrists. It took her a while to realize, she was in a basement full of big freezers and sinks. For a second, she thought she was going to be cut up and frozen to feed to whoever until she saw a man sitting on the stairs, leading upstairs.
“W-Where am I?” Y/n said, voice coming out lower than she expected it to. “Home,” the man spoke before getting up. He came out of the light, now shaking off the figure.
He was shirtless, yet had jeans on. Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn’t know why. Was it because Project X had her tried up in god knows where, or was it the fact she could see all of his chest?
He was sweaty, hairy, ripped, muscles flexed every once in a while, veins popping from his skin and smooth.
“It’s passed midnight, but I bet you’re hungry. Went to the store then cooked us up some food,” he spoke as her eyes traveled all over his body. She felt like she was in a trance.
“Up here, princess,” his voice was closer. She didn’t notice how close he was until his fingers lifted her chin. Even though her feet were a few inches from the ground, he was still towering over her.
“You hungry?” He asked with a head tilt. “Let me go,” she spoke, not knowing what else to say. “No,” he spoke back, voice sounding stern. She could hear the seriousness behind his tone.
“And if you try runnin’ you’ll regret it,” he said, body now touching hers. Y/n quickly went to kick him right between his legs, but he knew what was coming. He surprised her by pulling her leg to the side of his waist. She went to use the other, but he did the exact same thing.
“Relax, princess,” the man smirked down at her as she tried wiggling away, but doing so made her cunt rub up and down his clothes length. She prayed he wouldn’t notice, but he felt the wet spot soaking into his jeans.
“If you act good, I’ll fix that for you,” the man whispered in her ear, pulling her body closer to his. Y/n held bad the whine she almost let out. What was he doing to her?
Logan eventually pulled back and walked to the corner of the room to lower her rope. He then walked back over to the girl as she looked down, not knowing what to say or do to the man.
He wasn’t giving off any type of serial killer vibes. He didn’t seem like he wanted to do any kind of killing. A part of her felt saved than she’d ever had, especially because of her job, but she felt off just letting this man win what he wanted. And that was her.
After y/n’s hands dropped from the ropes, she lifted her knees and connected with his groin. The man fell to the ground in pain as she pushed past him, running up the stairs.
The slightly frightened girl ran towards the front door, thinking she was free until she noticed a device on the lock that needed a code. “Fuckin’ hell,” she shouted before running around the rest of the house to find another way.
“You ain’t gettin’ outta here, bub!” Logan yelled from downstairs, finally getting up from the ground. You would think a mutant like him wouldn’t feel that pain, but he did.
Y/n panicked, thinking she was doomed until she had an idea. A stupid one which she slightly felt bad for doing but she did it anyway.
“Son of a bitch!” Logan finally made it up the stairs to the sound of glass breaking. She was out and running for her life, knowing he’d be furious about his genitals and glass.
Y/n ran as fast as she could through the woods, a bit terrified of the dark and animal noises, but the real animal was back at that house. He is an animal, right? That’s what they said he was.
Y/n had stopped after a few minutes to catch her breath. He’s never been the kind to run.
As she rested, she looked down at her feet, swing scratches and blood, but she’d get over it. She needed to get away.
As the young woman went to take a step to continue, she heard a noise behind her. She quickly looked back but saw nothing. Maybe it was a squirrel or something, she thought.
Y/n turned back around to start walking until he saw the view of an angry Logan in her face. “Where ya goin, bub?” He asked. Y/n instantly screamed at his presence.
Before she could move, the man tangled her to the ground, pushing his hand down the middle of her back to pin her into the dirt.
“No!” Y/n fought in anger, thinking she was actually going to escape. “When I said no, you ain’t listen, now didn’t you?” The man said through his teeth as he forced her to dress up.
“Logan, please! N-Not out here, not out here!” She begged, thinking people would be able to hear this scene going on and go and check, just to see her getting drilled into the ground.
“No one’s out here, princess. Not for another mile or so — You’re all mine out here,” the evil low laugh he let out as he pulled his jeans down was insane. He hadn’t even pulled himself out of his boxers. He wanted to take his time with her out here.
Y/n tried kicking her legs, but what was the point? He could smell her leaking down her folds. He knew she wanted this, and he was going to make her understand.
“I said, no!” Y/n shouted as she swung her elbow back as hard as she could, making him fall back. Y/n crawled away, but only a few inches to look back at him. The fear that grew inside of her was unbelievable.
Logan‘s jaw was dislocated. She popped his jaw.
Y/n’s words got stuck in her throat. She wanted to apologize as the man slowly looked up. He didn’t mean to hurt him. She’s not like that.
Before she could open her mouth, Logan popped his jaw back in place with his hand before moving it around to make sure it was normal.
“You fucked up, bub,” the man said before crawling towards her. It didn’t even look like a crawl. How did he do that? Logan lifted the girl up by her neck and pinned her to the closest tree.
“Ow!” She cried out, feeling the tree bark scratched her ass through her thin and silky nightgown. God, she needed to change soon.
“Logan, ow!” She hoped he’d have sympathy for her, but the way his eyes looked, he was far from it. He wanted to teach her a lesson, and that’s what he was doing.
“N-No, no!” She pushed at the man’s hand, but that did nothing. He ripped her nightgown off like a strand of hair. “Logan!” She shouted, feeling the breeze on her body until his body rubbed against hers.
“You’ve been a bad girl,” Logan growled as he pulled himself out of his jeans. “I don’t like that,” he had as he shifted up and between y/n’s legs until they were lifted off of the ground. Her toes barely touched the dirt.
“I-I can't, Logan,” y/n remembered how he fucked her the last time, and he wasn’t even angry at her. Logan let out a chuckle that he soon cut off after he slammed up into her cunt.
Y/n cried loudly as her arms gripped his shoulders. Logan stared directly at her, his face seemed too serious to look at. He was angry. Very angry. But why? It’s not like the pop in his jaw hurt like any other thing her went through?
“P-Please,” she choked as he pushed her neck into the tree harder, just to get a reaction out of her. “Shut the fuck up,” the man said like the tree wasn’t about to break or come out of the ground from how hard he was pounding into her.
“I can’t,” she whined in pain, but too much pleasure to not tighten around him. The way she squeezed him, egged him on further.
“Oh, you can’t? Does it look like a give a fuck? Huh!? Does it!?” He spat as his pelvis roughly slapped against her clit. She couldn’t think straight. This man was fucking her like some wild animal in the woods. She’s literally being fucked by an animal in the woods.
“F-Fuuuck,” y/n dragged with a broken moan. Logan let her neck go and used both of his hands to grip and hold onto her legs, keeping her up and against the tree, not caring how much she scratched at his shoulders and chest.
The man growled in her ear, cock slipping in and out of her entrance as her asshole puckered. He was huge and slagging around like he wasn’t.
Y/n couldn’t say, but her broken cry warned him she was cumming, and when she did, it was hard. “Goddamnit — Fuck,” the man grunted, pinning his feet to the ground to keep up his hard abuse.
“So fuckin’ good — Fuck!” The man couldn’t keep himself together as his nails dug, into her thighs. Y/n was now crying, not because she was scared, but because of the overstimulation followed by a thrust that wouldn’t slow down.
“Yeah? Yeah, is that the spot, baby?” He asked, knowing it was. “Think this is over just because you came? Think ima stop because you’re drunk on my cock? How did that go last time?”
The girl shook her head, half ass answering his questions. “So cute,” the man chuckled before pulling y/n off of the treat and throwing her over his shoulder to give her a small break.
He wanted his fresh meet alive and functioning when he fucked filled her up. Last time he didn’t get that chase, but he swore to god he would this time.
Because she ran so far, he had to walk it, giving y/n some time to come to life. “Lo-“ y/n cut herself off, still having trouble speaking, but held herself well enough for him to understand.
“No more,” she begged, but he wasn’t having it. “Please, no more,” she begged again as she noticed him passing his car parked several feet from his cabin.
“Logan!” She shouted, now kicking and screaming again. The man grew angry but wanted to take her to the bedroom for what he was about to lay on her.
“Logan!” She shouted, gripping onto the side of his house which was a long wooded stand. “Y/n, stop it!” He let her down with a shout as he began pulling her, but she wouldn’t budge and he didn’t want to accidentally rip her arms off.
“No!” She screamed before he finally pulled her off, causing her to fall on the front steps in front of his house. The way she fell and landed on her hands and knees made him say, fuck it.
“You wanna be fucked like an animal? Fine,” he said as he came up behind her, pulling his cock back out before plunging into her, earning a scream that made him know he hit the right spot instantly.
Logan grew an evil smile across his face as he tugged on her hair, making her arch her back before slapping at her ass, causing her to bruise lightly.
“Little sluts get treated like slut, y/n. You could’ve be fucked nice and sweet on the bed earlier, but no — You wanna run,”
Y/n’s mouth slacked as her eyes crossed from how hard the man was pounding on her. “You see that, bub? Look right up there, right into that camera,” he forced her to look at his security.
“Gonna tie you down and make you watch how dumb you look on my dick,” the man spat, making y/n feel the burn in her eyes, but not from embarrassment. From too much pleasure.
“Yeah — Yeah,” the man repeatedly groaned as y/n squeezed him with a shake in her body. “So fuckin’ pathetic, I might have to give you back,” Logan said, knowing he’d never do such a thing. “Nah,” he added drill in her head that she ain’t goin’ nowhere.
ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ / ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ, sᴍᴜᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ
ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ
ᴘᴀʀᴛ ғᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ sᴏᴏɴ...
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