#tw soft nudity

[kylixyte]

Can we have the doctor with bobas pretty please? I'm sorry if you're not comfortable with robot bobas just keep up with you amazing arts pls 😭

Tysm!

I hope you like it and I got it right. I'm not very good at this, but any requests are great.

The version without fabric and the usual one under the cut

[taste-my-wine69]

Honeymoon 🌙 ✨

MINORS DNI

[chillguy1011]

Not my usual content but I liked the drawing :33

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

The Job (Part 2)

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 2. Exhaustion, 8. Panic Attack, 18. Vomiting, 21. Shock, Alt 6. Crying to Sleep Fandom: Peaky Blinders, Tommy Shelby, f!reader, prostitute!reader Summary: After being forced to witness the bloodbath at the stables, you are left shaken to the core. So when Tommy comes to visit you a few days later, you demand answers leading to a revolution you never expected. Word Count: 4266 TW: Steamy Situations/Soft Smut, Non-sexual Nudity, Shock, Trauma, Vomiting, Tears, Mentions of Prostitution, Smoking, Language Notes: A HUGE thanks to @loverhymeswith who not only sent me the ask that inspired this fic and helped me perfect this part, but also for getting me into Peaky Blinders in the first place! Part of @ailesswhumptober's event

Masterlist (coming soon)

Part 1, Part 2

As you hurried from the stable and the nightmare within, you saw Arthur, John, and a handful of others you recognized as Peaky Blinders pulling up out front. No one looked at you directly as they climbed out of their cars—Arthur the only one to even acknowledge you with a small nod—before silently heading into the stables and drawing their pistols. You increased your pace but you were still within earshot when the cacophony of gunfire sounded behind you. Even though it was too late, you pressed your hands over your ears as you fled down the street, tears blurring your vision as you went. 

Yet no matter how quickly you ran nor how much distance you put between yourself and the bloody massacre you had just escaped from, you felt as if you were still there. Trembling behind the hay bales as the world exploded in blood around you. It was the stuff of nightmares you had heard about in whispers behind closed doors, but the reality of experiencing it first-hand was far more horrifying than you could ever have imagined.

After what seemed like an eternity, you finally stumbled up the front steps of your lodging. Your hands were trembling so badly that it took you three tries to finally get the key in the lock to open the door and, once inside, you rushed quickly to your room. 

Despite it being the middle of summer, you were shivering uncontrollably and there was a chill deep in your bones. After much trouble, you got a fire started in your fireplace and you huddled next to it as closely as you could stand. And yet, the chill persisted. 

Looking down, you saw that small flecks of blood had landed on your new dress and you immediately ripped it off and threw it into the fire. Even if it could have been cleaned, the events of the night had stained the dress in ways that could never be washed off. You would never be able to forget what you witnessed no matter how hard you tried—you didn’t need a reminder of it hanging in your wardrobe as well. 

Standing before the fireplace in only your undergarments, you watched as the once beautiful gown blackened and burned, slowly falling apart as it turned to ash. You wished there was a way to rid yourself of your memories as easily as you had the dress. The sounds of the screams, the metallic bite of blood in the air, the way Tommy’s blue eyes peered at you from a face stained red. All building up to the thunderous booms of gunfire as you fled the stable.

And it was all your fault. 

You had led those men to their deaths. Even if Tommy hadn’t explicitly told you what was to happen once you lured them to the stable, you should have realized what he planned to do. You knew his reputation for dealing with threats to his empire and yet, you had agreed to do what he wished with only the slightest of hesitations. If not for you, those men would be home with their wives or children at the moment instead of lying in a heap in an empty stable waiting for a handful of Peaky Blinders to come to dispose of their bodies.

That thought was the final straw. You dropped to your knees as you emptied the contents of your stomach across your floor. Over and over you retched, even past the point of having anything left in your stomach to expel. Every time you thought the nausea had settled, the memory of the blood-soaked stable would flash in your mind and you would gag once more.

Finally, once your body physically could not take anymore, you rolled over and curled up next to the fire. With tears streaming down your face and a weak whimpering in your burning throat, you slipped into unconsciousness only to find the horrors of the night were waiting to torment you there as well.

The next few days were some of the worst of your life. At first, you tried to push what had happened to the back of your mind and move on as you attempted to continue about your days as normal. However, that was much easier said than done. The feeling of nausea failed to leave you and all you could manage to hold down was broth or a little bread. 

After the initial horror of the experience settled a little in your mind, you realized it wasn’t even the fact that all those men died that was really bothering you. Yes, the taking of any life was a tragedy but they were gang members who voluntarily chose this life. They knew the dangers involved with it and the potential consequences. And it wasn’t as if you weren’t used to witnessing violence after spending your entire life in Birmingham. It was just a way of life here.

No. What was really making you sick to your stomach was Tommy and how he had involved you in his feud. You were used to him using your body on a weekly basis—you gladly offered it up—but this? This was something completely different.  

He had made you an unwilling, unknowing accomplice to his dastardly deed. Then he had forced you to stand there and witness every last horrifying second of it. The image of his pale blue eyes boring into you from a crimson-drenched face, his outstretched finger pinning you in place from across the room, was burned into your soul. 

Why had he forced you to stay? You had done everything he had asked of you, so why did he want to punish you so? Why did he feel the need to curse you with these images that would haunt you for the rest of your life?

The dread in your chest only grew stronger with each passing day as Tommy’s scheduled visit approached. Wednesday simultaneously came too quickly and seemed to take an eternity to arrive. 

Usually just before he was set to appear, you would put on your finest dressing gown and style your hair just the way you knew he preferred. Then you would wait by the entrance with a cigarette and a glass of whiskey ready for him. However, this time when Thomas Shelby walked through your door, you were seated on the edge of your bed in a simple shift dress that laced up the front. As he entered, your shoulders folded in on themselves as you shrank slightly away from him. Hesitantly, you glanced over at him out of the corner of your eyes. 

If he noticed anything was different, Tommy did not address it. He simply strolled over to the table, took off his coat, and began unbuckling his belt as he asked, “Shall we get to it then?”

You made no move to stand or begin removing your clothes. Instead, you wrapped your arms across your chest, and with a slight quiver in your voice, you whispered, “H-how can you just walk in here as if nothing happened? As if this were just any other Wednesday and nothing has changed?"

He paused as he pursed his lips and gave a slight shrug. "Nothing has changed. I'm here for your services just as I am every week."

"Tommy, I watched you murder an entire room full of men right before my eyes. And I-I helped you do it. I mean, I know I agreed to help you but you never told me I would be leading them to you like lambs to the slaughter.”

His icy blue eyes took on an extra chill as he took a few steps towards you. With a slight bite to his words, he said, “You are neither foolish nor naive. You knew what would happen once you got to the stable.”

“I thought you would talk to them! Give them a warning, maybe send a message! Yes, I knew violence would probably be involved but I didn’t expect you to massacre every single one of them!”

A cunning, almost bordering on cruel, smile spread across his face. “Oh, but I was sending a message. Now anyone else out there who thinks they can fuck with the Peaky Blinders will see what will happen if they come for us.”

“But why did you have to involve me? What did I do to displease you to the point you would—” Tommy’s face dropped as the first tears spilled from your eyes and you took a wet, shaky breath, looking to the ceiling as you blinked rapidly and tried to maintain your composure. You had to know. This question had been haunting you almost as much as what you had witnessed. “I haven't been able to eat or sleep since that night. I feel as if I’m going mad. Every time I close my eyes all I can see is blood and I hear the howls of pain as those men died. Tommy, I have to know why you made me stay. What was the point? I tried to leave but you….Why did you make me witness that?”

For a moment, the room was still as the suffocating silence filled the room. Why wasn’t he answering your question? Maybe he didn’t have an answer. Maybe it had been a spur-of-the-moment decision in the heat of battle. Maybe to him, it meant nothing at al—

“You had to stay because I needed you to see the man I truly am.” 

Your eyes snapped to his face as you looked at him directly for the first time, your brow furrowed in astonishment. “W-what?”

Reaching into his pocket, Tommy pulled out a cigarette. However, unlike usual, he didn’t light it. He just rolled it between his fingers thoughtfully. Then he tapped the end on the table before looking back at you. “The last time I was here you spoke of the Peaky Blinders as if I was not part of them. As if I was not the one in charge of them. Just because I don’t talk about that business with you does not mean it isn’t my life. That I am not as guilty if not more of their ‘transgressions’ as you put it. And I needed to remind you of that.”

“I have never had any misconceptions of who you are or what you do. Even before the first time you came to me, I knew the name Thomas Shelby and I knew the stories. And though the man I have come to know here in this room is far different from what I expected from those stories, they were never far from my mind.”

“But knowing and seeing are two very different things, eh?” Tommy asked. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you are keeping your distance? The way you are too afraid to even look at me directly?”

“I’m not afraid of you, Tommy.”

“Is that right?” He placed his cigarette down on the table and began slowly strolling over to the bed. “Then if it isn’t fear, what is it? Disgust? Loathing? What is it that you see when you look at me now?” He stopped as he reached the foot of the bed. 

Shaking your head, you said, “Tommy, please—”

He stepped closer until he was less than an arm's length in front of you. You dropped your eyes to the floor as he towered over you. 

“Look at me.” When you continued to avoid his gaze, he firmly grabbed your chin between his fingers and forced your head up so you had no choice but to look into his startling blue eyes. “Look at me! And tell me what you see.” You opened your mouth to speak, but he added, “The truth.”

Trembling, you gazed into his eyes and whispered, “I… I see a man capable of unspeakable horrors. One who has washed in the blood of other men, and will readily do so again.”

Tommy stared back at you without the slightest reaction to your words. Then he nodded softly and released your chin. You slid closer to the head of the bed and wrapped your arms around yourself as he turned. Silently, he walked across the room, grabbed his coat, and began to put it on. 

However, you weren’t ready for him to leave. Maybe it was his explanation and reasoning as to his actions or maybe it was the idea that if you let him walk out that door you may never see him again, but something deep inside you had shifted as you answered his question. What you had said was your honest answer, but the truth was so much more complicated than that. And you couldn’t let him leave without hearing the rest of your response.

Taking a deep breath, you stood off the bed, walked over to him, and placed your hand on his forearm. He paused, one brow raised as he waited for you to explain your action.

Wetting your lips, you softly said, “But I also see a man who only does these things for the sake of his family and their interests.” Tommy’s face remained emotionless, but you felt some of the tension ease out of him under your touch so you continued. 

“I don’t think I can ever support your actions that night and it still makes me sick that you made me a part of it and then forced me to watch. You should have at least warned me or let me leave because I didn’t need the lesson you tried to teach me. I hate what you did, but I understand why it was necessary. And as much as I’m loath to admit it…. There is a sort of honor in it. Those men posed a threat to the lives of every member of the Peaky Blinders as well as their loved ones. And you shed their blood so the blood of your people wouldn’t be.” 

Your hand slowly trailed up his arm and across his chest until it rested just over his heart. Feeling it drumming steadily against your palm, you softly added, “The Peaky Blinders are lucky to have someone like you watching out for them.”

As usual, Tommy maintained his mask of indifference, but not even he could control his heart. You felt it jump underneath your hand as the drumming began to pick up its tempo. He blinked, long and slow, before gazing at you once more and it seemed as if some of the ice in his eyes had melted ever so slightly. 

He placed his palm over top of where your hand still lay on his chest. “I hope you know that you are one of the people under my protection. I swore I would never let any harm befall you, even that by my own hand.” His other hand reached up to cup your face, his thumb gently tracing the dark bags that had formed this past week under your eyes. “And yet it seems that is exactly what I did. I thought by making you see me for who I really am I would be protecting you. But I was so blinded by that thought I did not see the hurt I would cause instead. I am truly sorry.”

You were utterly speechless. As long as you had known him, you had never once heard Tommy admit fault or apologize for any of his actions. He only ever brushed off these incidents and changed the subject, but for him to tell you he was sorry? He must honestly regret his poor decision.

“I-I forgive you,” you whispered, your eyes fluttering as his thumb continued to caress your face. “Just don’t ever put me in a situation like that again. Please.”

“I promise.” His hand slid down your cheek slightly until his fingers brushed against your lips. “Shall we seal it with a kiss?”

Faintly, you nodded, your head spinning with anticipation for what was to come. Tommy bent over until his lips lightly grazed yours, the feeling no more than a whisper. For a moment, your heart dropped in disappointment and you figured you had misread the situation. However, when Tommy’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck and he pulled you into him, the kiss became something else entirely. 

You sometimes kissed Tommy during your weekly appointments but even then, at the peak of pleasure, it never felt like this. Now, there was a heat, an urgency, a need behind his lips that made your knees grow weak. It was something you had never experienced with any man, let alone Tommy.  But the fact that it was him kissing you like this made everything more intense and overwhelming in the best way. You never wanted it to stop.

As you began kissing him back with the same intensity, Tommy’s hands came to rest on your hips and he guided you over to the table. Dropping into one of the chairs, he pulled you onto his lap, your legs spread on either side of his waist. You could feel him already hardening in his slacks and you wrapped your legs around his hips to draw yourself in even closer. 

He buried his face in your hair, his long eyelashes fluttering against the edge of your face for a moment until he turned his head. Slowly, his lips slipped across your jaw, breathing ghostlike kisses in their wake as his mouth traveled along the curve of your throat. When he reached your shoulder, he bit down lightly. This drew a soft gasp of pleasure from your lips and you felt him buck against you in response. 

Yet before his mouth could dip any lower, you tilted his chin so you could see his face. 

His usually pale blue eyes had darkened with lust and the hunger you saw there made you ache deep within your core. This was a different side to Tommy, a side that you had never seen before. While your time together was always pleasurable, you were providing him a service and that was always apparent in his actions. But now…it felt about you just as much as about him. It felt like something deeper than just his regular weekly appointment. Yet before you lost yourself completely to him, before you let yourself believe it could be more, you had to know for sure.

Holding your breath, you murmured, “What is this, Tommy? Business or pleasure?”

Brushing his fingers across your cheek, he responds in a low, husky whisper. “For me, it stopped being business long ago.”

A brilliant smile spread across your face as you surged forward to recapture his lips. Kissing you back with the same fervor, he stood, his strong arms supporting you so you remained wrapped around his waist, and carried you over to your bed. Without breaking your kiss, he laid you down and settled above you. 

Your eyes drifted shut and you could feel his nimble fingers begin fiddling with the laces across the front of your dress, even as his tongue slid past your lips. You arched your back to allow him easier access to the ties as the aching between your legs intensified. But after a moment, he froze and then suddenly pulled back. At first, you were worried you did something wrong, but as you opened your eyes, you saw all of his concentration had shifted to the laces still perfectly fastened in place.

As he continued his futile attempt to untie your dress, he cursed softly and muttered, “Damn you woman for wearing this infernal thing."

Leaning forward, you smiled into his neck before teasing, your lips brushing across his skin, “Come now, Tommy. One might think you’d never undressed a woman before.”

He paused, his head tilting until he locked eyes with you. Then, without breaking eye contact, he curled his fingers into the fabric of your bodice and gave a firm pull, causing the dress to rip open down to your waist. You let out a gasp of surprise but Tommy swallowed the sound as his mouth found yours once again.

With your legs still encircling his waist, you pulled him in closer until his hips were flush with yours and you could feel him straining for release against your clothed core. Slowly, you began rolling your hips to rub against him and you were rewarded with a deep rumble deep within his chest. 

“Not so fast, you little minx,” Tommy growled, nipping at your lip. “There’s no rush tonight. You wanted to know what this was between us? Well, I’m going to show you. Over and over and over, until you never again doubt that this is all about pleasure.” A soft shudder of pleasure shivered down your spine at his words and he smiled. “Now, let me watch you take off what’s left of that dress then our night can begin.”

You had serviced Thomas Shelby more times than you could count. But that night became the first time you and Tommy made love….over and over and over and over, just like he promised. 

Remarkably, you slept like a babe that night—the first real sleep you had had since the night in the stable. Even though you hadn’t opened your eyes yet, you could tell you had slept through the rest of the evening and well into the next morning by the warmth of the sun trickling in through your window onto the bed. The sunbeams felt heavenly on your bare skin and you hummed contently as you basked in the glow. 

Stretching to help wake up your sluggish limbs, you opened your eyes and found yourself staring directly into a pair of familiar glacial eyes. 

“Tommy!” You were instantly wide awake as you scrambled out of bed, dragging the bedsheet along with you to wrap around your naked body. “Wha-what are you still doing here? I mean, you don’t stay afterward. You never stay afterward.” You felt your face grow hot as you realized now that you had stolen the sheet, he was lying bare in your bed, fully on display. It took all of your willpower to keep your eyes locked on his face and not let them drift down the muscular planes of his body or linger on the hardness between his legs.

Completely unfazed by your reaction or his naked state, Tommy propped himself up on one elbow. “You said you hadn’t been sleeping this past week yet you looked so peaceful last night I didn’t want to disturb you.”

You blinked several times in quick succession as you tried to process that information. “So you stayed….for me?”

He shot you a coy grin. “Yes, I stayed for you. Though my motives may not have been as selfless as you make it seem.” His expression softened and he opened up his arms inviting you back to bed. “The truth is, I too found myself more at peace with you by my side than I have in a long time.”

You relaxed slightly, the motion causing the sheet to slip down until your breasts were almost completely uncovered. Tommy’s eyes shifted down to them and you had to bite your lip to keep from smiling. Apparently, for once you had more self-control than the great Thomas Shelby. But that feeling of superiority didn’t last long as your nerves once again gripped you as you faced the situation at hand.

“So, if that’s true….What do we do now?” you hesitantly asked as you worried the sheet between your fingers, afraid his answer might have changed now in the bright light of day. “Do we resume our business as usual or has this become something else? Something more?”

“That’s up to you, isn’t it?” Tommy reached over to the small side table where his pack of cigarettes and lighter were waiting and pulled one out. Once it was lit, he took a long drag, held it, and slowly let the smoke stream from his lips. “I told you last night that this has not been business to me for a long time. I’ve respected what you do but if I had my way, you’d be mine and mine alone.”

This time, you didn’t even attempt to mask the smile spreading across your face. In fact, you embraced it until it was shining almost as brightly as the dancing across the room. “And what would you do with me, Thomas Shelby? If I was yours and yours alone?” you teased, leaning forward to show off even more of your exposed breast.

“I’d give you the fucking world.”

All of your playfulness evaporated with your sharp intake of breath. You scanned Tommy’s face for any indication he was joking or teasing you back, but there was none. As you locked eyes with him, all you saw was sincerity. It was truly how he felt. 

Trying to project the same level of honesty back at him, you whispered, “I don’t need the world, Tommy. As long as I have you…that’s all I’ll ever need.”

“Well, you are in luck, love,” he said as he stubbed out his cigarette on the edge of the table. His eyes swiveled back to yours and he added matter-of-factly, “Because you’ve got me.”

You nodded, tears slightly blurring your vision. “And you’ve got me too. For forever. Starting right now.”

You dropped the sheet to the floor, pausing for just a moment to let Tommy take you in. Then you climbed back on the bed and into his waiting arms. 

I am toying with an idea for a Part 3 so let me know if you would be interested!

Tag List: @lucien-calore, @zebralover

[duckzz]

girls just want to have fun or something (1/31)

[alhaithamsrentbill]

[lovinglin]

Shhhh... they're sleeping 💤

[thealmightyemprex]

Eldora and Amara played a game of hunt ,and Eldora won,devouring Amara.Amara grumbles in Eldoras stomach while Eldora picks her teeth with a toothpick

This takes place in the early days of the Goddesses when they hunted each other

@themousefromfantasyland @theancientvaleofsoulmaking @ariel-seagull-wings

[possiblynya]

I promised you forever and you fell for the lies; it's weird, why do you like being traumatized?

(I have no idea what tumblr guidelines are any more so I'm calling this a tasteful nude, giving it a little tag, and leaving it as is)

[notsneakyghosty]

I’m not sure if this is the right place for this. But this is my latest painting. Its called “lust” by the way.

[fangdokja]

Hey there, Fang. This is my first ever ask of someone, so I read your rules very closely and I hope I don't mess it up already. I also want to say that I haven't even finished reading your Yandere Alpha Male oneshot and I can already tell I'll be in love with the rest of your work 🥹.

I had seen that you also have a Yandere Bully Collegemate OC and I NEED HIM IN MY LIFE! (I say that respectfully and in no way do I want to rush you into writing his story 🥹). As a request are we able to get a oneshot of him, please? I don't have anything specific in mind, maybe Reader gets dragged to a Frat Party by him and he does her in the bathroom out of jealousy/possessiveness, etc. I'll be happy with any idea you have 😊. Can we also have NSFW with Non-Con? I'm not too fond of anal, but I'll leave it up to you! Thanks, Fang! I'll be cheering you on! 🤗

🔞A night of hedonism becomes your worst nightmare.

❤︎ Synopsis. At a twisted frat party, you're the centerpiece of a dark game of dominance and degradation, where every touch and whisper reminds you of the power he holds—and the humiliation you're forced to endure. The night is far from over, and he has plans to make you his plaything in front of them all.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured (AHD) : A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! College! Bully x Fem. Reader

♡ Novella. Torn Between Us - Part 3

♡ Word Count. 17,206

♡ TW. dom + top + older + scumbag + sadistic yandere, explicit non-con + rape, psychological manipulation + conditioning + abuse + trauma, fear play, BDSM + DDLG, bullying, love bombing, mature language, crime, unhealthy coping mechanisms + toxic relationships, gaslighting, victim blaming, implied masochism, slight pet play, collars + leashes, public + situational humiliation, non-con photography + filming, non-con alcoholism + forced intoxication, drugging, forced oral + deepthroating, public sex, slapping, physical assault + abuse, degradation, name-calling, forced prostitution + stripping, whipping, dacryphilia, slut shaming, genitalia assault + abuse, gang rape, mind break, blackmail + threats + coercion, illegal auctions, hard objectification, free-use whore elements, explicit and realistic depictions of sexual abuse + rape, forced double + multiple penetration, creampies, Stockholm Syndrome, forced anal, orgies, masturbation, public nudity

You felt the cold air bite into your skin as he yanked your shirt over your head, the fabric tearing away from your body with a vicious snarl. He threw it aside, his eyes raking over your exposed flesh with a hunger that made your stomach clench. His grip was iron, his hands roaming over your curves with a cruel possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. You were his toy, his plaything, and as he dragged you to the mirror, you couldn't help but feel the weight of his gaze—like a brand searing you from the inside out.

"Look at yourself," he ordered, his voice a low rumble of thunder. "This is what you are. A whore. Nothing more."

You stared at your reflection, trembling, the bruises from his earlier assaults already starting to bloom across your skin. His eyes bore into yours through the mirror, a challenge that made your heart race. You tried to look away, but his hand snaked around your throat, his thumb pressing into the soft flesh beneath your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"You're mine," he said, his voice a low growl. "You always have been. And tonight, everyone will know it."

With a sadistic smirk, he reaches down to unbutton and unzip your pants, pulling them down along with your underwear in one swift motion, leaving you naked and exposed in the cold room. He takes a step back, his eyes feasting on your trembling body, the evidence of your fear and humiliation only adding to his arousal.

He opens a closet door, revealing a selection of cheap, revealing outfits—tiny dresses, lingerie, and accessories that scream 'slut'. He sifts through them with a critical eye, tossing a few onto the bed with a grunt of satisfaction.

He holds up a scrap of red fabric with a smirk, his eyes glinting with malicious pleasure. It's a lingerie set—a thong and a push-up bra that barely cover anything. "This will do," he says, tossing it at you. "Put it on, and let's see if you can still pretend to be shy for me."

You freeze and don't follow through immediately.

He grabs the back of your neck, his grip tight and unforgiving as he pulls you to your feet. "You heard me," he growls, his voice thick with irritation. "Put it on. We're going to make an entrance they won't forget." His eyes bore into yours, the hunger in them unmistakable.

You swallow hard, the taste of fear coating the back of your throat as your trembling hands fumble with the flimsy fabric.

Each touch feels like a brand, a reminder of what you're about to endure.

You hate him for this—for reducing you to this trembling wreck of a human being—but a dark, twisted part of you craves the attention, the power he holds over you.

It's a dance you know all too well, a dance you've been forced to perform countless times before.

With shaking hands, you slip into the red lingerie, the fabric scraping against your bruises and the cold air in the room making your skin pebble.

He watches with a predatory gaze, his eyes lingering on every inch of exposed flesh as if committing it to memory. When you're done, he nods, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Perfect," he says, his voice a low purr of approval. "Now, let's go show everyone what a good little slut you are."

He leans down, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, his tongue delving deep to claim you, to mark you as his own. His grip tightens on your hips, pulling you closer, and you can feel the unmistakable bulge in his pants pressing against your stomach.

It's a promise of what's to come, a reminder that you're his to use and discard at will.

Despite your fear, despite your revulsion, your body responds, your pulse racing as he whispers sweet nothings against your neck, his breath hot and moist.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust and possession. "So eager to please." He grazes his teeth along the sensitive skin of your neck, and you suppress a whimper.

The sting of pain sends a jolt through your body, mixing with the warmth of his praise, confusing your senses until you're not sure what you feel anymore—just that you crave more of his touch, more of his attention.

He smirks, the corner of his lips tilting up in a way that makes your stomach drop. "Maybe I'll just leave you in that," he says, his eyes raking over your nearly naked form.

He stands, releasing you from the bruising grip of his arms. You feel the cool air of the room kiss your overheated skin as he steps away, and for a brief moment, you hope that perhaps he's changed his mind.

But then he crosses the room to a drawer, pulls out a black leather collar studded with silver spikes, and you know that hope is futile. He returns to you, his gaze dark with excitement as he fastens the collar around your neck, tightening it just enough to make you gasp. "There," he says, his voice a low purr of satisfaction. "Now you're dressed for the party."

He leads you to the full-length mirror, forcing you to look at yourself.

The red lingerie clings to your bruised body, the lace scratching at your skin like the accusatory eyes of everyone who's ever seen your scars. The collar stands out starkly against your pale neck, a declaration of your ownership. He stands behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, his chest pressing against your back as he leans down to whisper in your ear.

"You're going to be the center of attention tonight," he says, his breath hot against your skin. "Everyone will see you like this. Everyone will know that you're mine."

You whimper, trying to pull away, but his grip tightens. He chuckles, the sound sending a cold shiver down your spine. "Don't worry, I'll make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of girl you are. A dirty little whore who can't get enough of the pain I give you."

You muster every ounce of courage and beg him to at least let you wear something more over the revealing lingerie, your voice quivering with fear and desperation. "Please," you whimper, "just let me put on something else. Anything. I don't want everyone to see me like this."

He chuckles darkly, his breath ghosting across your neck as his hand comes up to trace the line of the collar. "But that's the point," he whispers, his eyes gleaming in the reflection.

"You're my little showpiece tonight. My trophy to flaunt and use as I please." His thumb strokes the sensitive skin beneath your ear, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur. "You know how much I love watching you squirm under their eyes."

He sighs heavily, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. "You're so predictable." His voice is a low rumble of amusement. He leans closer, his breath hot and moist against your skin.

"But that's what makes you so perfect for this." He grabs your chin, turning your face to the side so you can see the lust in his gaze.

"Begging for mercy, for dignity, for anything to not be seen like this. It's pathetic, really." His thumb traces the line of your jaw, his grip tightening slightly. "But it's also what makes me so fucking hard."

———

The backhand hits you like a whip, the force snapping your head to the side and sending you sprawling onto the cold floor.

Pain explodes across your cheek, and you taste the coppery tang of blood in your mouth. The world spins around you for a moment, and you feel the sting of tears in your eyes.

But as the shock fades, so does your pride.

He looms over you, his eyes narrowed and gleaming with a dangerous light. "You've forgotten your training, haven't you?"

He says it like it's a personal affront, like you've spit in his face rather than simply begging for mercy.

"Bitch," he sneers, the word a vicious caress that makes you flinch. "You're going to learn respect again, one way or another."

You feel his heavy boot come down on your cheek, pressing your face into the cold, unforgiving tile. The pain is immediate and blinding, a stark reminder of your place beneath him. His weight shifts, the pressure increasing until your skull feels like it might crack under the force.

You whimper, your cheek mashed against the ground as your nose fills with the scent of your own blood. His foot grinds against your face, his voice a harsh, displeased growl.

"You're mine," he says, his tone brooking no argument. "Mine to use, mine to break, and mine to fix."

His foot releases you, and you gasp for air, your cheek bruising under his boot's imprint. "Now get dressed. We have a party to attend."

He smirks down at you, his eyes glinting with sadistic amusement as he watches your desperate struggle to breathe beneath his weight.

His hand reaches down to trace the bruise already forming on your cheek, his thumb pressing into the tender flesh with a cruel fondness. "Such a pretty face," he murmurs, "It'd be a shame to mar it completely."

He laughs darkly at your muffled cry, his nails digging into the bruise he'd just created, sending shockwaves of pain through your face.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, "You're going to be the star of the show tonight, baby. And if you're a good little whore, I might just let you keep that pretty face intact."

His hand yanks your hair, forcing your head back, and you bite back a scream as the pain shoots through your scalp. He's enjoying this, the cruel twist to his lips saying it all as he sifts through the selection of leashes hanging in the closet.

Each one a symbol of his control, a tool to parade you around the frat party like a prized pet.

His eyes flicker over the leather and metal chains, the soft fabric and studded collars, each one designed to inflict a different kind of humiliation. He finally settles on a short, studded leather leash, the kind that would leave painful indentations on your skin. He loops it around your neck with a sadistic smile, the cold metal pressing into your flesh.

"This one," he says with a finality that sends a shiver down your spine. "It'll match the collar nicely." His grip on your hair tightens as he secures the leash to the collar, the clasp clicking shut with a finality that echoes in your mind like a prison door slamming shut.

He jerks the leash back sharply, the studs biting into your neck as you're forced to kneel before him again. His smirk widens at your obedience, his eyes glinting with a mix of pride and cruel amusement. "Who told you to stand up, slut?" he asks, his voice a low, dangerous purr that sends a tremor through your body. His hand slides down the leather strap to the clasp, and you brace yourself for the pain, for the punishment you know is coming.

The second you try to stand up, he yanks the leash, forcing you back down to your knees. "Who told you to stand up, you disobedient little slut?" he snarls, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and excitement.

You feel a rush of heat between your legs despite the fear, his harsh words sending a thrill through your body. He reaches into the closet, pulling out a whip, the leather cracking sharply in the tense air as he tests its length.

The sight of the weapon makes your heart race, a mix of terror and arousal pumping through your veins.

"Now," he says, his voice low and deadly, "you're going to crawl to the party like the good little bitch you are. And if you dare try to stand again without my permission, I'll show you just how much this whip loves to kiss your skin."

He strokes the whip along your bare back, the cool leather sending goosebumps rippling over your flesh. His touch is possessive, a clear declaration of his intentions to claim you fully and completely in front of everyone.

The whip cracks through the air with a vicious sound, striking your already bruised flesh with a sharp sting. The pain is immediate and intense, making you yelp and arch your back as your skin burns from the leather's cruel kiss.

He smiles, watching your reaction with a predatory gaze, his eyes lighting up with sadistic pleasure at the sound of your pain. He runs the tip of the whip along your spine, tracing the outline of your body as you tremble before him.

"Look how eager you are," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "You love this, don't you? Being my little whore. Being used and humiliated in front of everyone."

His hand tangles in your hair again, wrenching your head back to expose your neck to his hungry gaze. "You're going to be the star of the show tonight, baby. Everyone will see just how much you crave this."

The cold steel of the leash digs into the flesh of your throat as he jerks it, forcing you to crawl after him like the animal he's made you out to be.

Your knees scrape against the rough, unforgiving surface of the hallway floor, leaving behind a trail of bruises and small abrasions that burn with every movement.

The humiliation is complete, the weight of his hand on the leash a stark reminder that you have no say, no power—you're nothing more than his plaything to be used and displayed as he sees fit.

────────────

The moment you enter the packed frat party, the atmosphere shifts—the air thickens with a mix of lust and anticipation.

His hand tightens on the leash, and he pulls you closer, a low chuckle escaping his lips as the whispers of those around you grow louder.

You can feel the weight of their stares, their eyes raking over your bruised and exposed body, and your cheeks burn with a mix of humiliation and arousal. You want to hide, to shrink away from their judgment, but his grip is unyielding, his presence a stark reminder of your role for the night.

As he parades you through the crowded room, the whispers grow into a cacophony of murmurs, the occasional laugh cutting through the din. You can feel the heat of their gazes on your bare skin, a mix of pity and perverse fascination. You're aware of the pictures being snapped on phones, the videos that will surely spread like wildfire across the school. But his hand remains firm on the leash, his grip a silent declaration of ownership.

The whispers become a murmur as the crowd around you grows denser, a sea of faces you vaguely recognize from classes and the dorms. They all seem to know him, and by extension, what you're here for.

A few of the bolder ones lean in close, whispering lewd comments about your body, your obvious discomfort only fueling their excitement.

The flash of a camera phone blinds you for a second, and you realize that your humiliation is being documented for the world to see.

You feel his hand slide down the leather of the leash to your neck, his thumb caressing the tender skin just beneath your jawline. His grip tightens, a silent warning to not make a scene, to be his good little whore.

"Look at you," he says, his voice a seductive purr in your ear, his breath hot and moist. "You're such a good slut for me, aren't you? Just like old times."

You bite your lip to hold back the tears, your cheek stinging from his earlier blow. You can't believe you're here, in this place, with him.

The music is loud, the lights are strobing, and the smell of cheap beer and sweat fills the air. You're naked except for the red lingerie he made you wear—his favorite color—and the collar around your neck, a stark contrast against your pale, bruised skin. The spikes dig into your neck, a constant reminder of his ownership.

Domo... you want to call for Domo...

Where is she...?

Please... please come back...

You're sorry. You're so sorry for lying to her.

For pretending to be someone you're not.

As you try not to cry, you feel the leather leash tighten around your neck, his hand guiding you through the thickening crowd.

The whispers and stares feel like a thousand tiny knives cutting into your already shredded dignity, but the fear of his wrath keeps you in check. The frat house is alive with the pulse of music, the smell of alcohol, and the heat of bodies pressed together in various states of undress.

Your eyes scan the room, desperately searching for an escape, but the only thing you find is his smug smile as he leads you to the VIP section.

He sits on the couch, the throne of his own twisted kingdom, and pulls you onto his lap, your bare thighs exposed and trembling against the rough fabric. His arms wrap around you like a steel cage, his hands roaming over your body with the ease of someone who's owned it for years. His touch is both possessive and degrading, a cruel reminder of the power he holds over you.

"Look around," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear as his fingers trace the line of the collar, pressing it into your skin. "This is your world now, my little whore. Everyone knows what you are."

You dare a glance around the room, your eyes filling with tears as you take in the leering faces and knowing smirks of the partygoers.

You're the entertainment, the punchline of their crude jokes, and it's clear none of them see you as anything but his property to use and discard.

The humiliation is almost too much to bear, but you bite your tongue, the metallic taste of blood mingling with the salt of stray tears.

"You're mine," he says, his voice a dark growl that sends shivers down your spine. His hand slides up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking over your nipple, and you can't help the gasp that escapes your lips.

"And tonight, I'm going to show everyone just how much."

———

He takes the bottle from his pocket and uncaps it with a smirk.

You recognize it as the same brand of alcohol you've had before, but something about the way he handles it makes you feel sick with dread. He brings the bottle to your lips, tilting your head back as you struggle to breathe, your pulse racing.

The liquid is cold and bitter, burning down your throat, and you cough and choke as he pours it down your throat. His grip is unrelenting, his thumb pressing into your jaw to force your mouth open wider, ensuring not a single drop is wasted.

"Swallow," he commands, his voice a low rumble. "Swallow it all."

You try to resist, but his grip is unyielding, the bottle pressing against your teeth until you have no choice but to obey.

The liquid burns its way down your throat, and you feel the beginnings of a sickly warmth spreading through your body, turning your limbs to jelly and your thoughts to mush.

The room starts to spin, and the leers of the partygoers become a blur of faces, their whispers a cacophony of white noise in your ears. You struggle to focus, but everything is slipping away from you, your mind fogging over with a thick haze of confusion and fear.

He watches you with a twisted smile as you gag and choke, the alcohol burning your throat and making your eyes water.

His chuckle is deep and satisfied, the sound of a man who's used to getting exactly what he wants, no matter the cost to others. As the last of the liquid trickles down your throat, his hand releases your chin, leaving a sticky trail of drool to hang from your bottom lip.

"Good girl," he praises, his voice thick with sarcasm. "Now, let's see how obedient you really are."

With a vicious yank of the leash attached to the collar around your neck, he forces you down to your knees. The spikes dig into your flesh, sending sharp stabs of pain, but you know better than to protest. Your knees hit the cold, sticky floor, and you feel the weight of his stare on you as you blink back the tears.

You're so vulnerable, so exposed in the skimpy lingerie and the collar that screams of your ownership. The room around you is a blur of faces and sounds, the frat brothers leering and jeering, eager to see what's to come.

———

The force of his slap sends your head snapping to the side, your cheek stinging with a white-hot pain that seems to resonate through your skull.

You blink back the stars in your vision, the sting of your eyes mixing with the salty taste of your own blood. His hand wraps around the back of your neck, forcing your face closer to the bulge in his pants. The fabric is rough against your skin, a stark contrast to the softness of your bruised cheek.

"You're going to show them," he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "You're going to show every single one of these pathetic fucks what a good little whore you are."

His grip tightens, the pressure almost cutting off your air. "You're going to suck me off right here, right now, and you're going to enjoy it. You're going to make them all wish they had a piece of what's mine."

The second slap lands with a crack that echoes through the room, the sound of your skin against his palm ringing in your ears like a gunshot.

The pain is so intense, so sudden, that for a brief moment, it overwhelms everything else—the humiliation, the fear, the sickening reality of your situation.

The taste of blood fills your mouth, mixing with the bitter taste of his hand as tears spill down your cheeks.

"Fuck," he says, his voice a mix of frustration and arousal. "You're such a slow learner."

His grip on your neck loosens slightly, his other hand reaching down to unbuckle his belt. The clink of his belt is the only sound in the room, louder than the pulse thundering in your ears, louder than the jeers of the frat brothers. "But we're going to fix that, won't we, princess?"

He pushes your face closer to his crotch, the scent of his arousal thick and overwhelming. The fabric of his pants presses against your cheek as he unzips them with a smug grin, revealing the hard, thick length of his cock.

"Look what you do to me," he says, his voice a taunt as he strokes himself, the sound of his hand gliding over his shaft echoing through the room. "You're going to make me feel so good, baby. Just like you always do."

You feel the heat of his cock against your lips, and despite the fear and pain, a dark, desperate craving stirs within you. His fingers weave through your hair, guiding you closer as you open your mouth to accept him. The taste of his arousal fills your mouth, and you feel his hardness pulse as your tongue darts out to trace the veins along his length. He groans, his grip tightening slightly as you take him in deeper, the leather of the collar biting into your neck.

Your eyes water with the effort to not gag, but you force yourself to take more, the desire to please him overriding your instincts to fight back.

As you hungrily deepthroat his cock, his eyes light up with a sadistic gleam of satisfaction. He groans deeply, his hand fisting in your hair as he starts to thrust his hips, fucking your mouth with a ferocity that leaves you gasping for air.

The leather collar around your neck is a constant reminder of your submission, the metal spikes digging in as he uses you as his personal whore. The room seems to spin around you, the sounds of the partygoers' cheers and taunts a cacophony in the background, all fading away as you focus solely on the task at hand.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice thick with arousal. "So eager to make Daddy happy. You really are a good little slut, aren't you?"

The words, though degrading, only serve to make you suck harder, your throat working to accommodate his size. His other hand moves down to squeeze one of your breasts, twisting the nipple through the flimsy fabric of your lingerie, eliciting a muffled moan around his cock. The pain sends a bolt of electricity straight to your core, making you wet despite the horror of the situation.

"Yeah, just like that," he grunts, his hips bucking against your face. "You love being used like this, don't you, my little fucktoy?"

The sound of your needy moans are like music to his ears, and his grip on your hair tightens even more. He starts to fuck your mouth with purpose, his hips moving in a steady, punishing rhythm. The friction of his cock against the back of your throat and the way your cheeks hollow out with each thrust makes you feel utterly used and debased—exactly how he wants you.

The frat brothers around you cheer and catcall, their eyes glued to the obscene scene unfolding in the VIP section. The room is a blur of leering faces and lewd gestures, the sound of their jeers and laughter echoing in your ears.

"Look at her," he says, his voice thick with arousal as he addresses the crowd. "My personal little slut. She'd do anything for me, wouldn't she?"

You can't bring yourself to argue, the words sticking in your throat as his cock slams into the back of your throat. The frat brothers hoot and holler, some of them reaching out to touch you, their hands grabbing at your exposed skin. Each touch feels like a violation, a further reminder that you're not a person here, just a thing for their amusement.

"Look at her," he says, his voice a low growl, "so eager to please." He slaps you again, the sting on your cheek sending a fresh wave of arousal through you, even as tears leak from your eyes. "You're going to be the main event tonight, my little slut. Everyone's going to see how much you love being used."

The room is a whirlwind of noise and bodies, the smell of spilled drinks and sweat thick in the air. He yanks you to your feet, the leash pulling at your neck. Your knees wobble, but he doesn't care, dragging you through the crowd to the makeshift stage they've set up.

The cheers and catcalls grow louder as he leads you up the steps, your bare feet cold against the wood. You're aware of every set of eyes on you, the collar around your neck gleaming under the strobe lights, his hand wrapped firmly in your hair, guiding you.

"Look at what I brought, everyone!" he calls out, his voice ringing with a dark kind of triumph. The music cuts out, and the room goes still. "This is what a real woman looks like, isn't she? Willing to do anything for the man who owns her."

The frat brothers cheer, and you can feel their eyes on you like a million tiny knives, cutting into your soul. He pushes you to your knees in the center of the stage, the lights above you making you squint.

You're dizzy, the room spinning around you, but you know better than to fight. You know what happens when you fight.

He strokes your hair, a mockery of tenderness. "Look around, baby," he whispers, his voice a dark caress in your ear. "These are the people who matter. These are the ones who understand what you truly are. And what are you?"

You swallow, the bitter taste of fear coating your mouth. "Y-Your slut," you murmur, the words barely audible.

He laughs, the sound cruel and triumphant. "That's right," he says, his hand sliding down to cup your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "My slut. And tonight, you're going to show everyone just how much of a good girl you can be for Daddy."

The crack of the whip slices through the air, the sound jolting you out of your haze. The leather kisses your bare skin with a sharp sting that sends a bolt of arousal straight to your core. You whimper, your body already conditioned to respond to his brand of pain with a twisted form of pleasure.

He smirks down at you, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he sees your reaction. "Now, now," he says, his voice low and soothing despite the harshness of his words. "Don't be shy. It's showtime."

The room seems to close in around you, the leather collar tightening around your throat with every breath. The stage lights are hot and blinding, and the leers and catcalls from the drunken frat boys below make your stomach churn. He snaps the whip again, the sound a sharp crack echoing through the room, and you flinch, your body responding to his command despite your mind's desperate rebellion.

────────────

The music starts, a thumping bass that seems to pulse through your very bones, and his hand tightens on the leash attached to your collar. "Dance for me, baby," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Show these pathetic fucks what you're really made of."

You try to push the drugs' haze away, but your body moves on its own accord, swaying to the beat, each movement a silent plea for mercy that he ignores. His eyes never leave yours as you strip away your dignity, peeling off layers of clothing to reveal bruised skin and the marks of his ownership.

The frat boys cheer, their eyes greedy as they watch you, and you want to die—to just slip away and leave this nightmare behind. But his grip on your soul is too strong.

He snaps the whip again, a little closer this time, the tip grazing the bare skin of your arm. You yelp, and he laughs, a sound that sends shivers down your spine. "That's it," he says, his voice a dark caress. "Show them how much you love it."

With the crack of the whip still ringing in your ears, you struggle to rise to your feet, your legs shaking with fear and a strange, dark excitement. The alcohol and the drugs he forced on you swirl through your system, mixing with the adrenaline and the horror of what's happening to create a toxic cocktail that fuels your actions.

You look down at your body, the red lingerie clinging to your curves, and you know that you're going to have to give him what he wants. You hate it—you hate him, you hate this, you hate what he’s turned you into—but the fear of his wrath and the need to survive override your pride.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction. He tugs at the leash, and you follow his lead, your movements jerky and awkward as you try to mimic the seductive dances you’ve seen in movies.

The stage lights burn down on you, making you feel exposed, making every eye in the room feel like a brand on your flesh. The frat members leer and shout obscenities, their excitement palpable as they watch you perform for their entertainment.

He circles you, the whip coiled in his hand like a living extension of his will. The leather cracks again, and you flinch, but this time, you know better than to resist. You begin to sway your hips, the music a distant throb that you try to sync with, your eyes fixed on a spot just beyond the sea of faces.

Each step is a battle between your instincts to flee and the cold, heavy weight of his expectations.

The whip slices through the air, its leather tail biting into the tender flesh of your thigh. The sting is immediate and sharp, a stark reminder of your place.

You gasp, your dance faltering for a moment as pain blossoms in a crimson flower, stealing your breath. The crowd cheers, the sickening sound of their approval spurring him on. His eyes narrow, and he pulls you closer by the leash, his grip unyielding.

"Is that all you've got, my little slut?" he sneers, his voice a harsh whisper in your ear. "You used to be so eager to please me, so desperate for my praise. Have you forgotten your training so quickly?"

You feel the warm trickle of blood run down your leg, mixing with the stickiness of his cum that still clings to your skin.

The room spins around you, the strobe lights flashing in a disorienting rhythm that seems to pulse with the bass of the music.

Your body screams for relief, but his words cut deeper than any whip ever could. You shake your head, eyes wide with terror and humiliation. "No, no, I—"

His hand snaps out, slapping you hard across the cheek.

"Don't you dare lie to me," he snarls, his voice low and dangerous. "You're mine, and you'll perform like the whore you are."

He shoves you back into the center of the stage, the cold metal of the pole pressing into your bare skin. The music changes, a slower, more sensual beat that seems to taunt you with its intimacy.

He cracks the whip again, a warning that echoes through your very soul.

Your body moves almost of its own accord, the drugs and his relentless grip on the collar's leash guiding your actions.

You wrap your shaking limbs around the pole, your torn lingerie barely clinging to your bruised and bloodied skin.

The crowd of leering frat members hoot and holler, their eyes devouring the sight of you, their entertainment for the night. The stage lights burn into your retinas, making everything else a hazy, pulsing blur. You feel the stickiness of the semen on your body mixing with the sweat and blood, creating a nauseating cocktail that clings to your skin.

"Look at her, folks," he calls out, his voice carrying over the music, his words a knife in the heart of your dignity. "Isn't she just the prettiest little thing you've ever seen?"

He sneers down at you, the glint in his eyes cold and unforgiving. "What are you waiting for?" he asks, his voice a low growl. "Take it all off, slut. Show everyone what you've been hiding." His hand moves to the collar around your neck, giving it a sharp tug that sends a bolt of pain shooting through your body.

———

You bite your lip, trying to ignore the burning in your throat and the sticky warmth of your own blood, as you begin to peel off your clothes with trembling hands. Your eyes never leave his, the fear and anger in them a silent scream for mercy that you know he won't heed.

With a tremble that you hope he'll mistake for seductive anticipation, you unclasp your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Your breasts bounce free, nipples stiff with cold and fear.

You're aware of the leers of the crowd as they watch you, and the way his eyes rake over you, claiming ownership of every inch of your exposed flesh. The collar feels tighter around your neck, a constant reminder of the power he wields over you.

"That's it, slut," he says, his voice thick with pleasure as you stand before him, naked except for the soiled lingerie around your thighs.

"Show everyone what you really are."

With trembling fingers, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your thong, taking a deep, shaky breath as you push it down over your hips.

The fabric clings to your wetness, and you feel a fresh wave of humiliation as you realize just how much your body is betraying you in this moment. You peel the thong away from your skin, exposing your vulnerable, bare pussy to the leering eyes of the frat boys and the sadistic grin of your tormentor.

He watches you, his own erection pressing against his slacks, his hand resting on the bulge as if contemplating whether to let you service him further. The room seems to pulse with the beat of the music, each bass drop echoing the hammer of your heart as you stand before him, naked, collared, and utterly at his mercy.

The whip slices through the air with a sinister hiss, and before you can even process the command, the leather bites into your sensitive flesh. The pain is immediate, white-hot and searing, and you let out a high-pitched scream as your body jolts reflexively.

The sting against your pussy sends a jolt of electricity through your core, the pain so intense it's almost impossible to believe it's real. You look down to see the crimson line marring your pale skin, and the sight only makes you feel more exposed, more violated.

He laughs, the sound like nails on a chalkboard to your sensitive ears. "Is that all you've got, baby?" He asks, his tone mocking and filled with dark amusement.

"I've seen you take so much more. Don't tell me you're going to be a bad little slut now." He gives the leash a sharp tug, and you stumble toward the pole, desperation fueling your movements.

Your body wraps around the cold metal, your trembling hands sliding up the pole as you try to compose yourself. The room's attention is fully on you, the music a distant backdrop to the horror show you're being forced to perform.

The pole is slick with sweat and other, unidentifiable substances, but you ignore the revulsion, focusing instead on the task at hand. You begin to move, your hips swaying and gyrating, your breasts bouncing with the rhythm as you try to push away the pain and the fear.

He grabs the back of your head, the glass bottle pressing against your mouth.

You try to resist, the bitter taste of the drug-laden alcohol already making your stomach churn from the first dose, but his grip is unyielding. His thumb digs into your cheek, pushing your jaw open wider, and he pours the amber liquid down your throat, forcing you to swallow.

You cough and choke, the liquid burning like fire as it slides down your throat, the potent aphrodisiacs mixing with the fear and adrenaline already coursing through your system. Your eyes water, your vision swimming with the sudden onslaught of chemicals, but he's relentless, watching you with a sadistic glint as you drink.

As the bottle empties, the room seems to tilt on its axis. The laughter and jeers of the frat brothers blur into a cacophony of sound, the lights above seeming to pulse and flicker erratically.

He releases your head, and you drop to your knees, gasping for air. The collar around your neck feels tighter, the spikes digging into your skin with each frantic breath you take. He chuckles, his eyes gleaming with a dark excitement as he watches you struggle.

"Looks like my little slut's ready to perform," he says, his voice a taunting whisper that seems to resonate through the haze in your mind. He tugs on the leash, jerking your head up so that you're forced to meet his gaze.

The world spins around you, the edges of your vision blurring with the potency of the drug. "Now, get up and show them what you're good for."

———

You struggle to stand, your legs wobbly from the potent cocktail of fear and aphrodisiac swirling through your system. The room seems to tilt and sway around you, the leers of the frat boys blurring into a sea of hungry, lecherous faces. Your body feels like it's on fire, your pussy slick with arousal against your will. The collar digs into your neck, a painful reminder of your bondage, but the heat from the drink and the humiliation of your performance makes the pain strangely… addictive.

"Good girl," he purrs, his voice thick with lust and satisfaction.

"Now, show them how much you love to dance for daddy." His hand slides down your back, his fingers lingering over the fresh bruises marring your skin. You flinch, but there's something in his touch that makes you crave more—his dominance, his control.

With the collar biting into your neck and the drug coursing through your veins, you stumble to the pole, your movements uncoordinated and sluggish. But as you begin to move, the music seems to fill you, guiding your hips into a sultry sway that seems almost instinctual.

You wrap your hands around the pole, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat emanating from your body. Each slide of your palms up and down the pole is met with a chorus of catcalls and whistles from the intoxicated audience.

The music pulses through the room, a siren's call to your debasement, and you begin to dance with a fervor that borders on desperation. Your eyes glaze over as the potent cocktail of fear and the drug takes hold, your body moving in ways that seem both alien and eerily natural.

You twirl around the pole, the friction of your bruised skin against the metal sending waves of painful pleasure through your body. Your breasts, now free from their fabric prison, bounce with each thrust of your hips, the friction of your nipples against the pole making them rock hard and sensitive.

The frat boys below you have abandoned any pretense of decency, their hands shamelessly stroking their erections as they watch you. The smell of lust is palpable, a thick fog that seems to coil around you, tightening its grip with every passing moment. Some of them have already climaxed, their semen spattering the stage, mixing with the sweat and tears that drench your legs.

You feel their eyes on you, a hundred pairs of hungry eyes feasting on your nakedness, and you know that he's watching, too—his smirk growing wider as his grip on the leash tightens, urging you to go further.

You arch your back, pushing your hips out, grinding against the pole in a display that has them howling with lust. Each movement sends a jolt of pain through your bruised body, but you ignore it, the need to satisfy him overriding any semblance of self-preservation.

You're nothing but a toy to be used and discarded, a living, breathing manifestation of his darkest desires.

You spread your legs wider, bending over the pole, and their eyes follow, drinking in the sight of your exposed sex. The collar feels like a brand on your neck, a declaration of ownership that marks you as his property.

As you spread your legs wider, revealing your wet and vulnerable sex, the crowd goes absolutely wild.

The air fills with the sound of their ravenous cheers, and money begins to rain down from the frat brothers' hands, landing in a cascade of bills and coins around your knees. The cold, hard cash is a stark contrast to the heat of their stares, but you're too lost in the haze of pain and forced pleasure to care.

Your body moves almost of its own accord, driven by the potent cocktail of the aphrodisiac and the need to satisfy the monster that holds your leash. Each bill that slaps against your skin feels like a slap, a declaration of your worthlessness, but it only fuels your performance.

"Look at her," he says, his voice thick with lust as he watches you, the whip still in hand. "Isn't she such a pretty little slut for us tonight?"

The room is a cacophony of male desire, the scent of testosterone and sex heavy in the air as more and more of the frat brothers drop their pants and start jerking off to the sight of you, their little whore on stage.

Some stand right at the edge, their erections bobbing in your line of sight, leaking pre-cum onto the floor as they watch you spread your legs and arch your back.

The aphrodisiac is making you wetter than you’ve ever been, and the sticky wetness coats the insides of your thighs as you gyrate around the pole. Each time you glance down, you see their eyes on you, watching the show with a hunger that’s palpable, their hands moving in time with the music as they pleasure themselves.

You feel a strange mix of fear and arousal, the drug playing with your emotions and making you crave his attention even as you despise the way he’s using you.

His hand tightens around the leash, reminding you of your place, and you whine, your hips rolling in a desperate bid for relief that you know won’t come. He’s enjoying this far too much to let you cum.

Instead, he gives the leash a sharp tug, pulling you closer to the edge of the stage, closer to the sea of erections pointing at you like accusatory fingers.

“Look at them,” he says, his voice a low purr in your ear, his breath hot and heavy with his own lust. “They all want a piece of you. They’re all watching you, jerking off to you, thinking about fucking you. And you know what? If I want, I can give them that. I can make you service every single one of them. You’re mine to do with as I please, remember?”

You whimper, your eyes darting around the room, meeting the eyes of the men below. Some of them are smiling cruelly, others look at you with a hunger that makes you want to crawl into a hole and hide. You know that if he wanted to, he could throw you to them like a piece of meat.

“But tonight, baby, it’s just me,” he says, his voice thick with arousal as he pulls you closer, his hand sliding down to squeeze your ass.

“We’re going to show everyone who you belong to. Who’s going to fuck you until you scream my name. Who’s going to make you forget all about that prissy little bitch Domo and your sad little attempts at a normal life. Tonight, you’re going to remember who you really are—my little whore.”

———

He hoists you up, your legs wrapping around his waist almost instinctively as he lines himself up at your entrance. You can feel how wet you are, the stickiness of arousal coating your thighs despite the horror of the situation.

He doesn’t bother with any preamble, no sweet nothings or gentle coaxing—his cock slams into you, brutally tearing through your folds with a sickening sound that’s lost in the din of the chanting crowd.

The impact sends shockwaves through your body, your back arching and your nails digging into his shoulders. You bite your lip to stifle the scream that builds in your throat, the pain of his intrusion mixing with the drug’s sickening thrill.

As he thrusts into you with a brutal force, your body betrays you, a strangled moan escaping your throat. Despite the horror of the situation, the drug's potent cocktail of pain and pleasure has turned you into a writhing mess of need, your inner muscles clenching around him involuntarily.

The crowd goes wild, their cheers and jeers echoing in your ears as he fucks you like a ragdoll, his hips pistoning into you without mercy. Each thrust is a declaration of his dominance, a claim staked deep inside your core. His fingers dig into your skin, leaving bruises that will bloom like dark flowers on your flesh, a testament to his ownership.

“Look at you, little slut,” he snarls, his teeth bared in a twisted grin. “You can’t even help but cum for me, can you? So desperate, so fucking pathetic. Just like I knew you would be. You’re mine, and you always will be.”

He slams into you, each thrust a declaration of his dominance over your trembling body. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place as he ruts against you, his breath hot and ragged in your ear.

The crowd's lewd cheers only serve to spur him on, his thrusts growing more erratic and forceful as he nears his climax. The pain is overwhelming, but the drug cocktail makes it almost bearable, the edges of your mind fogging with a haze of pleasure that you despise yourself for feeling.

“That’s right, take it all, baby," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "You love it when I use you like this, don’t you? Love when everyone sees you’re nothing but a whore for me?”

With your body a whirlwind of conflicting emotions and the potent effects of the drugs clouding your judgment, you find yourself obeying his command, kissing him back with a passion that's been twisted and corrupted by the situation.

Your mind is a blur of pain and arousal, the line between the two blurring until you're not sure which one is which anymore. His smirk widens, and he takes full advantage of your compromised state, his kisses growing more possessive as he feels you give in.

His hand snakes up to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as his tongue invades your mouth, claiming you in a way that leaves no doubt who you belong to.

The crowd's cheers grow louder, a cacophony of sound that seems to echo in your ears as he fucks you mercilessly on the makeshift stage. You're dimly aware of the frat brothers jerking off in front of you, their eyes glazed with lust as they watch your degradation unfold.

His hand moves from your neck, down to your throat, squeezing gently but firmly, reminding you that you're his plaything, here for his pleasure and their entertainment. You moan into his mouth, the sound lost in the cacophony of his grunts and the frat members' catcalls.

With a triumphant roar, he drives into you with a brutal force that makes your eyes roll back in your head. The pain is exquisite, a crescendo that steals the last shred of your dignity and leaves you trembling with a need that burns like acid in your veins.

Your legs are spread wide, your body exposed to the leering eyes of the frat members as he takes you with a ferocity that borders on savagery. His fingers dig into your hips, leaving bruises that mirror the marks of his teeth on your neck, his thrusts becoming erratic and punishing. You can feel him swell inside you, his cock thickening with his approaching orgasm.

The room is a cacophony of male lust and your own muffled whimpers. He leans in, his breath hot and ragged against your ear.

“You’re mine, baby. Always have been, always will be. You’re just too fucking stupid to realize it. Now, scream for me. Scream like you mean it. Scream like the breeding bitch I know you are.” His voice is a snarl, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck as he whispers the last words, the sting of his bite sending a jolt of unwanted pleasure through your body.

The drugs in your system respond to his cruel command, your body betraying you once more. Your orgasm crashes over you, a tidal wave of pleasure that's almost too much to handle.

Your legs tremble uncontrollably, wrapping around his waist as you cling to him, your nails digging into his back as you scream his name into the chaotic din of the frat party. Your muscles spasm around his cock, your walls pulsing with each wave of ecstasy that crashes over you, leaving you sobbing for breath.

His own climax follows, the hot spurt of his seed filling you as he buries himself to the hilt with a final, punishing thrust. The crowd's roars of approval meld with the harsh, triumphant grunts of his release, each one a nail in the coffin of your resistance.

Your body hits the sticky, cum-soaked floor, a testament to the depraved spectacle you've just endured. Your legs shake uncontrollably, muscles slack with the aftershocks of forced pleasure.

The smell of sex and the faint metallic scent of your own blood mingle with the stale beer and sweat that hang in the air. The frat members surrounding you jeer and leer, their lustful gazes raking over your bruised and violated form. Your skin is sticky with their cum, your dignity shattered beyond repair. The harsh lights of the stage cast unflinching shadows over the bruises blossoming across your body, each one a stark reminder of his dominance.

He stands over you, the smug satisfaction in his eyes as he zips his pants, tightening your collar with a jerk for good measure. "Good girl," he sneers, the sound of his zipper a grim symphony of your defeat.

"Now, let's get you cleaned up for the next act." He yanks the leash, and you scramble to your knees, the movement sending fresh waves of pain through your abused body. The leather collar bites into your neck, a constant reminder of your servitude.

With a vicious jerk, he pulls you through the crowd, the frat brothers reaching out to grope and slap you as you pass.

Each touch feels like a brand searing into your skin, marking you as their plaything, their shared whore.

He doesn't bother to hide his enjoyment of the situation, his eyes alight with a dark thrill as he leads you into a back room. The door slams shut behind you, and for a moment, the cacophony of the party is muted, a brief reprieve from the horror of the outside world.

────────────

The room is dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of stale beer and sweat. A filthy sink sits in one corner, and a worn-out couch occupies the other, stains of various bodily fluids marring the fabric.

He shoves you towards the sink, the leash tightening around your neck. "Wash up," he commands, his voice cold and detached. "You're going to be the main entertainment for the night, and I want you to look your best."

You stumble over to the sink, your legs wobbly from the drugs and the brutal treatment. You can feel his eyes on you, watching every move with a sadistic glee that sends a shiver down your spine. Your hands shake as you turn the faucet, the cold water a sharp contrast to the heat of your skin.

The mirror above the sink shows your reflection—your face is a mess of tears and smudged makeup, your eyes wide with fear and pain. But there's something else in there, a flicker of something darker, something that makes you feel even more disgusting.

Is that arousal?

The drug-induced pleasure from the stage still lingering in your body? You hate yourself for feeling it, for letting him win.

He tosses you a rag, and you catch it with trembling fingers, using it to wipe away the mess that's been made of you. The water stings the bruises and cuts on your body, but you force yourself to clean up, the coldness grounding you in the harsh reality of your situation.

You're his toy, a plaything to be used and discarded at his whim.

"Look at yourself," he says, his voice dripping with disgust and yet, there's a hint of pride in his tone.

"You're a mess. But you're my mess."

You dare to glance up at him, his form casting a shadow over your huddled figure. His eyes rake over you, a mix of disdain and lust that makes your stomach twist. You want to scream, to fight back, but the drugs have left you docile, a rag doll in his hands.

"Finished?" he asks, his voice a mocking drawl. "Good girl."

You nod, not trusting your voice to do anything but betray you. His hand snatches the rag from your hand, tossing it aside. He takes your chin in his firm grip, forcing you to meet his gaze in the mirror. The smirk on his face sends a fresh wave of humiliation crashing over you.

"Now," he says, his voice a dark promise, "it's time for the main event."

────────────

The room is a cesspool of lust and depravity, the air thick with the stench of sweat and spilled alcohol. The frat boys leer at you, their eyes hungry as they wait for your next act of degradation. Your heart races in your chest, each beat echoing the dread of what's to come.

He tugs at the leash, leading you back into the frenzied sea of bodies. You stumble, your legs wobbly from the drugs and the abuse. The cold floor sticks to your skin, the gunk from the stage still clinging to you like a second, unwanted layer. You keep your eyes down, refusing to meet anyone's gaze, but you can feel their eyes raking over your bruised flesh like claws.

In the center of the room, a makeshift auction block has been set up. A burly frat member with a sadistic smile steps onto it, a megaphone in his hand. "Ladies and gentlemen," he bellows, his voice slurred with drink, "it's time for the main event! Our little slut here is going up for grabs. Who's feeling lucky tonight?"

The crowd roars, and you feel a fresh wave of nausea wash over you. Your eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape, but you're surrounded by a sea of grinning faces and lust-filled eyes. He grins down at you, the leather leash tight in his hand. "Don't worry, darling," he whispers, his breath hot in your ear, "you're going to be the belle of the ball."

With a vicious tug, he yanks you up onto the block, your knees giving out under you. He doesn't bother to catch you; you're just a toy to him now. The cold, sticky floor kisses your bruised skin again, and you can feel the dampness of the cum and sweat seep into your pores.

The burly frat member with the megaphone leers down at you, his eyes tracing the lines of your bruised and trembling body. "Look at this fresh meat," he says, his voice a taunting growl. "What'll you pay to taste her?"

The bids come fast and furious, a cacophony of numbers and lewd suggestions that make your stomach churn. You want to cover yourself, to hide from the lecherous eyes and the knowing smirks that say they've seen it all before.

But your hands won't move—the drug has turned your body into a traitor, leaving you open and vulnerable to their perusal. You're just a commodity, a plaything for the highest bidder.

He stands behind you, a proud owner displaying his prize, his hand resting on your shoulder in a possessive grip. "Remember, baby," he whispers, his voice a dark caress against your ear.

"You're mine to give away tonight. So make me proud." His hand slides down to squeeze your breast, a cruel reminder of your new reality.

The auctioneer's voice booms over the speakers, echoing through the room as he rattles off your 'features'. "Look at her," he says with a leer, "a tight, obedient little slut for the taking. She's been trained to perform any act you desire. And just look at that ass! It's begging for a good hard fucking."

You feel a cold wave of dread wash over you as the frat members hoot and holler, their eyes raking over your naked, bruised body. Your mind is a whirlwind of fear and despair, but your body remains a statue—still and submissive under the influence of the drugs.

The bids start flying, numbers shouted with the excitement of a game show audience, as if you're nothing more than a piece of meat. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you can't help but look down at the floor, unable to meet any of their gazes.

"Don't be shy, baby," your tormentor whispers, his breath hot against your neck. "Show them what a good little whore you can be." He nudges your legs apart with his foot, making sure everyone gets a good view of your most intimate areas, still glistening from his recent use.

You want to resist, to scream, to fight, but the only sound that comes out is a pitiful whine as you struggle to maintain your balance on the block.

The auctioneer leers at you, his voice echoing through the room like a punch to the gut. "Look at those tight little holes," he says, gesturing lewdly.

"Imagine what they can take." Your face burns with a mix of humiliation and anger, but the drugs keep you rooted in place, unable to do anything but stand there and endure.

"Look at the bruises," another frat member calls out, pointing to the finger marks around your neck. "It's like he's been breaking her in all night!"

The room erupts in laughter, and you feel the heat of a hundred eyes on your exposed skin.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through you like a taunt. "Oh, they're just from our little warm-up earlier," he says, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand. "But don't worry, I'm sure the lucky bidder will leave some of their own."

———

The room goes quiet as the gavel hits the podium with a final, echoing thwack. The frat member with the megaphone smirks, holding up a hand to signal the end of the bidding war. "Sold!" he declares, and a wave of nausea crashes over you as the reality of the situation sets in.

You're no longer a person with free will, but a piece of property to be used and discarded at the whim of the highest bidder.

He looks down at you, the victorious glint in his eyes piercing the haze of your drug-induced confusion. "You're going to love this," he says, his voice thick with sadistic amusement. "It's going to be just like old times, baby. Remember how much fun we had?"

With a jerk of the leash, he pulls you along behind him, your bare feet stumbling over the sticky floor as the frat brothers catcall and whistle. Each step feels like a betrayal to your own dignity, but the fear of what he'll do if you resist keeps you moving. You're led through the crowd, the sea of drunken faces blurring together, their leers and taunts a cacophony of degradation.

The room is spinning, the lights are too bright, and the smell of sweat, alcohol, and sex is overwhelming.

You feel a hand squeeze your bruised ass, and you wince, a reflexive cry slipping out before you can stop it.

He laughs, the sound cold and cruel, the hand moving to your throat, squeezing gently. "Keep walking, slut," he whispers, his voice a dark caress that sends shivers down your spine. "You're going to be everyone's entertainment tonight."

────────────

He shoves you through the door of the VIP bedroom, and your knees hit the plush carpet with a thud. The room is dimly lit, the air thick with the musk of male desire and the faint scent of cologne. You blink through the haze of the drugs, trying to focus on the scene in front of you.

The man who won the bid—your new temporary owner for the night—reclines on the bed, surrounded by his eager companions.

They leer at you, their eyes raking over your bruised and exposed flesh with the hunger of predators eyeing their prey.

One of them, a burly man with a scruffy beard, stands up and saunters over, his hand stroking the length of his already erect cock.

"Look what we've got here," the bid winner says, his voice thick with lust. His eyes are the color of rotting leaves, cold and unfeeling. "A fresh little slut for us to play with. How much did she go for?"

Your bully laughs, his hand still tight around your throat. "Does it matter?" he asks, pushing you down onto the floor. "You've got her for the night. Do whatever you want with her. Just make sure she's in one piece when you're done." His smile is wide, revealing teeth that look too sharp, too hungry. "I've got plans for her tomorrow."

The room seems to shrink around you as the bid winner’s words hang in the air, the reality of your situation sinking in.

Twelve sets of eyes, hungry and predatory, stare down at you, each man licking his lips in anticipation.

You feel the weight of their gazes, the heat of their desire, as they begin to circle around you like sharks in a feeding frenzy. The coldness of the floor against your bare skin sends a shiver down your spine, a stark contrast to the heat of fear burning in your belly.

“Don’t worry, we’ll share nicely,” one of them says, a twisted smile playing on his face as he reaches out to run a finger along the bruised curve of your breast. You flinch away, the touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

The bid winner takes a step closer, his eyes raking over your body, his expression one of cold calculation. His hand reaches out to stroke your cheek, his thumb catching on the crust of blood at the corner of your mouth. He leans in, whispering, "You're going to be our little toy tonight."

The others close in, their hands reaching out to touch you, their laughter echoing around the room like the cackles of demons in hell.

Your body trembles uncontrollably as the weight of the situation crashes down upon you, your knees buckling under the pressure of the frat brothers' eager eyes.

Through the fog of the drug, you manage to stumble closer to your bully, your reason for suffering, and cling to his leg with a desperation that's raw and painfully real.

Despite the humiliation, despite the bruises that already mar your skin, despite the throbbing pain in your head and the heaviness in your limbs, you find yourself pathetically begging.

"Please," you whimper, the word barely audible amidst the cacophony of their lewd laughter.

"Please take me back. I'll do anything—just don't let them…not like this." Your voice cracks as a fresh wave of sobs overtakes you, your body shaking with the force of your despair.

He looks down at you, his eyes gleaming with something dark and twisted. "You want me to save you?" His voice is a sneer, his grip on your hair tightening. "But you're not mine to save anymore, are you?" He yanks your head back, forcing you to look up at him. "You're theirs now. Their little plaything."

The impact of his kick sends you sprawling across the floor, your bare skin scraping against the cold, plush carpet.

You land with a painful thud, your bruised and trembling body offered up to the leering eyes of the thirteen frat brothers.

They crowd around you like hungry jackals, their excitement palpable as they reach out to touch, grope, and claim their prize. Your bully watches from the doorway, his eyes gleaming with a twisted blend of possessiveness and sadistic satisfaction.

You wail in despair, your voice hoarse from the abuse and fear, as their hands clamp down on your arms and legs, tearing at your bruised and torn lingerie.

The fabric rips away, leaving you exposed and vulnerable to their greedy eyes and eager fingers. Each frat member seems to have a different preference—some tug at your hair, others squeeze your breasts, and one even has the audacity to spread your thighs, his thumb circling your clit with a sadistic grin.

"Fucking whore," one of them slurs, his breath reeking of alcohol and malice. "You're gonna love this, aren't you?"

Their laughter and lewd comments fill the room, echoing off the walls in a cacophony of depravity that seems to swell with every heartbeat. You struggle against them, but the drug has left you weak, your limbs feeling like they're made of lead. The room spins, and you're dimly aware of the door slamming shut, leaving you at their mercy.

The frat members' hands are everywhere, rough and unyielding, as they explore every inch of your exposed body. They squeeze and maul your breasts, twisting your nipples until you cry out in pain.

Their fingers probe your pussy, invading your most intimate spaces without permission, their nails digging into your soft flesh. They force your head into their laps, their erections pressing against your cheeks as they demand that you service them orally, the taste of their excitement mingling with the bitterness of the drug on your tongue.

Each one takes his turn, thrusting into your mouth as you choke and gag, the tears streaming down your face only seeming to excite them further. They whisper degrading names in your ears—slut, whore, toy—each word a hot knife slicing through your soul.

Your bully watches from the sidelines, his eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction as he observes his handiwork.

He leans against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, the muscles in his forearms flexing with the occasional twirl of the leash still attached to your collar. He says nothing, his silence speaking louder than any words could.

This is what you are to him—his entertainment, his property, a means to satisfy his twisted desires and assert his power.

The frat brothers are merciless, their grunts and jeers filling the room as they take turns using you. You're thrown around like a ragdoll, each new set of hands more brutal than the last.

Your body is slick with sweat and tears, your skin stinging from the whip's earlier kisses. You try to keep track of who's next, to brace yourself, but it's a futile effort. They're all the same—faceless monsters in a never-ending nightmare.

One of them, a burly man with a cruel smile, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand after forcing you to service him. "You're even better than he said," he leers, his breath hot and sour on your skin. "What's your name, slut?"

You swallow a sob, the word 'slut' echoing in your mind like a brand. "I—I don't—"

He laughs, his meaty hand slapping your ass. "Don't bother. You don't need a name tonight. You're just his little whore." He grabs your face, his fingers digging into your cheeks. "Now, who's next?"

The room seems to close in around you as the burly frat boy’s words sink in. Twelve of them, all eager to use your body as they wish. Your heart races as fear and dread coil in your stomach, but the drug’s effect leaves you feeling hazily aroused despite your desperation.

They crowd around the bed, their lustful gazes raking over your bruised and soiled body. The smell of alcohol and sweat fills the air as they jostle for position, eager to claim their prize.

One of the brothers, a tall, lean man with a cruel glint in his eye, steps forward and grabs your chin roughly. “Look at me, slut,” he snarls, forcing your gaze to meet his.

“You’re going to make every single one of us cum, and you’re going to do it with a smile on your face, or it’ll be your ass that pays the price. Got it?”

Your weak struggle is met with a chorus of harsh laughter from the frat boys. The one holding your chin tightens his grip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your jaw as his friends jeer. "Looks like she's still got some fight left in her," he says, his voice thick with amusement. "Let's see how long that lasts."

They waste no time, descending upon you like a pack of ravenous animals. The first two take your ankles, spreading your legs wide and securing them with ropes to the bedposts, leaving you completely exposed and vulnerable. Another one grabs your wrists, tying them to the headboard with a vicious yank that sends pain shooting through your dislocated arm.

Your bully watches from the shadows, a dark smile playing on his lips as you're secured in place, unable to escape the horror about to unfold.

———

As you scream for your bully, your voice echoes through the room, desperation lacing every syllable. The frat brothers pause in their advances, their grins widening as they watch your futile struggle. The tall, lean one chuckles, stroking the length of his erection with a smug satisfaction that makes your stomach churn.

“Look at her,” he says, his voice a taunt. “Begging for you like a whipped bitch. Tell her, bro—you’re not here to save her. You’re here to watch.”

The words are a dagger in your chest, but you can’t deny the sickening thrill that runs through your veins at his words. You hate him—hate what he’s making you do—but the fear of his wrath is a constant, throbbing pulse that drowns out everything else. You whimper, tears streaming down your cheeks as the frat brothers resume their advances.

“P-please, don’t do this,” you manage to croak out, your eyes darting to your bully in the shadows. But he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, just watches with a smug, knowing smile. His silence is a knife twisting in your gut.

The tall, lean frat member, the self-proclaimed ringleader of this vile display, grabs your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him. “You know the rules, little slut. You don’t get to speak unless one of us gives you permission. And right now, all you get to do is make us happy.”

He leans in close, his rancid breath hot against your face. “But don’t worry, I’m sure your dear Daddy over there is enjoying the show. Just remember, every moan, every tear, every drop of your degradation is music to his fucking ears.”

The room feels like it’s closing in on you as the other frat brothers murmur their agreement, their hands roving over your bound body. You feel a cold trickle of fear run down your spine, realizing that this isn’t just about your bully’s sick pleasure anymore—it’s about proving something to everyone here.

That you’re his to use and discard as he sees fit.

The room fills with the sickly sweet scent of cheap alcohol as it's poured over your trembling body, the cold liquid making you gasp and flinch. It pools in the curves of your breasts and stomach, then trickles down to soak into your already abused pussy. The frat brothers leer at you, their faces flushed with lust and cruelty. You struggle against your restraints, your eyes wide with terror, but the ropes bite into your skin, holding you in place.

"Now, now," the ringleader says, his voice a taunting purr. "Don't be shy. You're going to be a good little whore for us, aren't you?" He grabs your hair, yanking your head back so you're forced to look at the sea of eager faces.

"Open wide for Daddy's friends, or should I say, your new daddies?"

The room erupts in laughter, the sound of their amusement echoing in your ears like the ringing of a death knell.

You feel the first frat member's hand squeeze your throat, his grip tight as he lines his cock up with your mouth. Your bully watches from the sidelines, a twisted smile playing on his lips, his eyes gleaming with a mix of arousal and satisfaction. He's enjoying this, watching you be destroyed for his entertainment.

You try to fight, to spit, to scream, but the hand around your throat cuts off your air supply. Panic sets in, and your eyes bulge as he starts to thrust, the head of his cock pushing past your lips despite your desperate attempts to keep them closed. You gag, tears streaming down your face, as he fucks your mouth like it's nothing more than a wet hole for his pleasure. The taste of him is bitter and disgusting, making your stomach heave, but you know better than to try to pull away.

As the first frat member's cock forces its way into your mouth, you feel a wave of nausea, but the fear of suffocation is even stronger. Your jaw is stretched wide, and your eyes water as he mercilessly uses your mouth, grunting with pleasure.

Meanwhile, the other frat members move in like a pack of hungry animals, tearing at your limbs, spreading your legs apart, and pushing their cocks against your quivering asshole and pussy. You're overwhelmed with the sensation of being filled, your body stretched to the limits as they plunge into you without a shred of mercy.

The ring of muscle around your throat relaxes slightly, allowing you a brief gasp of air before the frat member starts to fuck your throat in earnest. You can feel the spit and pre-cum running down your chin, mixing with the tears that refuse to stop flowing.

The frat members, fueled by lust and the thrill of dominance, descend upon your trembling body like a pack of hungry wolves. Their hands are rough, their touch invasive, as they force your legs apart and push your mouth wider, eager to claim their prize.

The pressure inside you is unbearable as two thick cocks are thrust into your pussy simultaneously, stretching you to the brink of pain and beyond. Your eyes water with the effort to accommodate the girth as you feel your insides give way to their relentless pounding.

“Look at her, she’s loving it!” one of the frat brothers jeers, slapping your ass cheek with a resounding crack.

His words are echoed by the others, their laughter a cacophony of depravity that fills the small VIP room. Your bully watches with a twisted smile, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic light as he takes in the scene of your degradation. He nods, seemingly proud of the performance he’s orchestrated, the leather strap of your collar tight in his hand as he tugs you closer to the edge of the bed.

The two frat members who had been eagerly awaiting their turn step forward, their erections straining against the fabric of their pants. They waste no time in freeing themselves from their confines, the sight of your ravaged body bringing them to the brink of frenzy.

You feel the coolness of lube as it’s smeared onto your already overstretched anus, the sensation a stark contrast to the heat and pain that follows as the first cock breaches your entrance. You tense, your body instinctively trying to resist the intrusion, but your bully’s hand on the back of your neck forces you to remain still, to accept your fate.

The two frat brothers don't bother with gentle introductions as they push into your asshole, one cock following the other, stretching and filling you beyond any semblance of comfort. The lubricant does little to alleviate the burning sensation as they invade your most intimate space with a brutal sense of entitlement. Your body quivers with each thrust, the pain of their entry a stark contrast to your bully's cruel satisfaction.

He watches with a glint in his eye, the scene playing out exactly as he had planned. His grip on your neck tightens as he whispers in your ear, "You're doing so good for me, baby. Such a good little slut."

The room is a blur of motion and sound as the frat members lose themselves in their depraved desires.

The two cocks in your pussy pummel you with a merciless rhythm, each thrust driving you closer to the edge of what you can bear. The pressure in your asshole is unbearable, the two men inside you stretching and filling you beyond any comprehension of pleasure, the pain a living, pulsing entity that consumes you entirely. The frat member in your mouth fucks your face with a fervor that matches the others, his cock sliding in and out as he groans with each stroke.

As the frat member in your mouth nears his climax, the your bully’s grip on your hair tightens, pulling your head back so your throat is exposed to the camera lenses eagerly capturing the scene. His eyes gleam with sadistic delight as he watches the others fuck you mercilessly. He whispers into your ear, his voice a dark promise, “You’re going to take every last drop of their cum, aren’t you?”

One of the frat members in your pussy pulls out, and you feel a momentary relief before another takes his place, his cock thick and unyielding as he drives into you without preamble. The two in your asshole continue their relentless assault, the pain so intense it’s almost a comfort, a stark reminder that you’re alive, that this isn’t a nightmare you can wake from. Their grunts and sighs of pleasure meld with the sickening slap of flesh on flesh, each thrust a declaration of your degradation.

The scene is a whirlwind of debauchery and depravity as the men around you continue to take turns filming your forced submission. The camera flashes pierce through the dimly lit room, capturing every tear, every whimper, every moment of your degradation for posterity. The frat members' eyes glaze over with lust as they watch their comrades claim you in every way possible. The air is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, a heady mix that seems to drive them all to the brink of madness.

As the frat members continue to pass around your abused body like a toy, the flashes from their cameras become more persistent, painting the room in stark relief of your humiliation.

The sound of their laughter and the snap of their fingers as they take pictures feels like a thousand tiny cuts slicing into your soul. Each flash captures another moment of your degradation, preserving it for all to see. You feel like a mere object, a plaything for their amusement, stripped of all dignity and identity.

Your bully stands at the edge of the room, his eyes gleaming with a possessive lust as he watches the scene unfold. He's dressed impeccably, a stark contrast to your tattered outfit and bruised skin.

He runs his hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling with excitement as he watches you being used like a whore. "Look at you," he says, his voice dripping with a dark satisfaction, "You're such a natural at this, baby. Just like old times."

The frat members, driven to the brink by your forced submission and your bully's cruel orchestration, release their pent-up lust in a frenzy of orgasms.

Cum spurts across your face, chest, and stomach, painting your body in a vile canvas of their desires. Some shoot their seed deep inside you, filling your already ravaged holes, while others cover your skin in thick ropes that stick to your flesh, a disgusting testament to their depravity.

Each man’s climax is accompanied by grunts and moans, a cacophony of animalistic sounds that echo through the room as they use you to satisfy their base instincts.

The frat members show no sign of mercy as they continue to use your body for their pleasure. They take turns, each one eager to leave their mark, to claim a piece of you.

Your insides are a chaotic mess, your pussy and asshole stretched and abused beyond what you thought was possible. Each new load of cum feels like a violation, a hot, sticky reminder of your powerlessness. Your body jerks and twitches with every spurt, muscles clenching around them in a futile attempt to push them out, only to be filled once more.

As the frat members continue to pound into you, your body responds with an involuntary wave of pleasure, each new cock triggering orgasms that shake you to your core. Your eyes are glazed over, your mind lost in the haze of pain and arousal as you cum over and over again. The sensation of being filled so completely, of being used so utterly, sends your body into a frenzy of pleasure despite the horror of the situation.

The room is a cacophony of grunts and slaps, of flesh against flesh and the slap of skin. Each new wave of semen that fills you is met with a groan from the frat members, a chorus of pleasure that echoes in your ears.

They treat you like a toy, a living cumdump, and your body betrays you with each shuddering climax. Your legs tremble, your throat aches from screaming and being used, and your pussy clenches around cocks that never seem to stop coming.

Your bully's eyes gleam with a twisted mix of pride and satisfaction as he watches. He leans in close, whispering in your ear, his voice a seductive hiss that sends chills down your spine. "Look at you," he says, his breath hot against your skin, "so beautifully broken. Just like I knew you would be."

His hand comes up, stroking your cheek with a tenderness that feels wrong amidst the chaos. "You're mine," he murmurs, his thumb tracing the path of a tear down your face. "And I'll never let you forget it."

────────────

The room seems to spin as you come back to consciousness, the smell of sex and sweat heavy in the air. Your body is a wreck, used and abused in every conceivable way.

The frat members have long since lost count of their own climaxes, treating your body as nothing more than a vessel for their pleasure.

Each time you slip into oblivion, you're yanked back to the nightmare by the relentless assault of their cocks, thrusting into your pussy, asshole, and mouth with no regard for the agony you're in. They don’t care if you’re too sore, if you’re crying or begging for them to stop—you’re just a hole to be filled, a whore to be used.

———

You come to with a jolt, the pain in your body a stark contrast to the gentle stroking of your hair. Your eyes blur with tears and cum as you see your bully your tormentor, cradling your naked form with a disturbingly affectionate smile.

His eyes are glued to the screen of his phone, the blue light flickering across his face as he watches the recorded footage of your degradation with rapt attention. The sounds of your forced pleasure and their lustful grunts fill the room, a grim reminder of what happened while you were unconscious.

Your body feels like it's been put through a meat grinder, each breath a struggle through the thick, sticky mess that coats your skin. You're aware of the dryness in your throat, the throb in your jaw, the raw sting in your pussy and asshole—each sensation a testament to the brutality of the past hours.

His hand shifts to the back of your head, and he leans down, pressing a soft, almost loving kiss to your forehead. The gesture sends a cold shiver down your spine, the stark contrast between his gentle touch and the horror you've just endured. His arms tighten around you, pulling you closer to his chest, his hard cock digging into your side.

You can feel his heartbeat, steady and strong, a stark reminder that he's alive, that he's the one holding you, watching your suffering with such a disturbing blend of love and possession.

He pulls back, his eyes searching yours, his expression a mix of anger, love, and something else—a deep, dark need that makes your stomach twist. "Look at you," he says, his voice a low growl. "So fucking weak. You think you can survive out there without me? The world's a cruel place, baby. Full of monsters like those frat boys who'd eat you alive if they had the chance."

You want to scream, to fight, to tell him he's wrong, but your voice is gone—stolen by the hours of brutal use. Your throat is raw from the abuse, your body trembling and bruised. The gentle stroking of your hair feels like a lie, a sick imitation of comfort that makes you want to retch.

He seems to sense your internal struggle, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth as he leans in closer. "But you know what's worse than them?" he whispers, his breath hot against your cheek.

"Me. I'm the monster who loves you."

He traces the bruises along your neck, his thumbs brushing over the marks from the collar, his eyes lingering on your swollen lip and the trails of dried tears staining your face. "I'm the one who knows every part of you, who's seen you at your lowest. And you know what that means, don't you?"

He shifts his weight, the erection pressing more insistently against your side. His hands move from stroking your hair to gripping your jaw, tilting your face to meet his gaze. "You forgot who you really are, didn't you? Who you really belong to. You forgot that every part of you is mine to use, to protect."

"You're mine," he whispers, the words a dark promise that echoes through your soul. "Always have been, always will be. No one else will ever love you like I do."

You flinch at his words, his grip on your jaw tightening as his thumb traces your lower lip, smearing blood and spit. "Do you think anyone else would want you like this?" His voice is a soft, taunting murmur that cuts deeper than any blade. "Broken, used, and covered in their filth?" His eyes gleam with a feral light, the possessiveness in his gaze a stark reminder of the monster that lies beneath his human guise.

Then, with a sneer, your bully's thumb traces the curve of your cheek, smearing the remnants of your blood and tears. "Your mother? That cold bitch doesn't have the capacity to love you the way I do."

You wince, his words hitting like a sledgehammer to your soul. The mention of your mother is a fresh wound, still raw and festering from her cruelty. The truth stings, but you dare not argue, fearing it might only feed his ego more.

"And as for Domo," he says with a dismissive wave, his eyes narrowing as he says her name. "That sanctimonious slut? She's a fool. Playing savior, thinking she can fix you. But you're beyond repair, aren't you?"

You whimper at the mention of Domo, the pain of his words resonating deep within your chest. It's a painful reminder of the trust you've lost, the friendship that's been tainted by his manipulation. He leans closer, his breath hot against your face.

"But I love you, even in your broken state. I love watching you squirm, fighting against your nature, your desires. It's so… entertaining." His lips curve into a sadistic smile, and you can't help but feel the warmth spread through your body, despite the fear.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck as he whispers, "You see, no one else could love you like this. No one else would want you when you're broken. But I do. Because you're mine." His grip on your waist tightens, his thumbs brushing against the soft flesh of your hips as he pulls you closer to him. "You're mine to fix, to use, to love."

As his lips press against yours, the gentle caress feels alien amidst the pain and fear that have become your constant companions. His touch is a stark contrast to the harsh reality of your situation, a cruel reminder of the affection he’s twisted into this monstrous form of control.

His tongue traces the seam of your lips, coaxing them open, and you can’t help but respond, his dominance a dark siren call that resonates deep within you. You hate yourself for it, for the way your body reacts despite your mind screaming for resistance, for the way your heart stutters at the softness of his touch.

“Say it,” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice a seductive purr that sends shivers down your spine. “Tell me you love me. That you’re mine.”

Tears stream down your face, mixing with the blood from your split lip. Your voice is barely a whisper when you finally give in. “I love you.”

The words feel like acid on your tongue, but his eyes light up with victory, his smile widening as he takes in your shattered expression. “Good girl,” he croons, his hands sliding down to grip your throat again, his thumb tracing lazy circles against the pulse point. “You know what happens next, don’t you?”

────────────

The warm water of the hot tub envelops you as he helps you to your feet, the heat soothing your bruised and battered body. The stark contrast between the pain and the comfort sends a wave of confusing sensations through you, but you push them aside, focusing solely on his needs.

You sink into the water, the jets bubbling around you as he sits on the edge, his erect cock standing proudly before you. You lean in, eager to show your love and devotion through your servitude, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock.

The salty taste of his pre-cum fills your mouth, and you moan around it, eager for more. His hands thread through your hair, guiding your movements, as he talks into the phone, his voice calm and collected, as if he isn’t receiving a blowjob from his bruised and broken lover.

With a mix of fear and forced desire, you deepthroat his thick cock, your throat tightening around it as you try to take in his entire length. You can feel the pulse of his veins, the heat of his desire, and the way he swells even more in your mouth.

His grip on your hair tightens, and you know you're doing exactly as he wants—his little slut, his personal cumdump.

You can't help but moan around his shaft, the vibrations of your voice sending shivers down his spine. His eyes never leave yours as he watches you, the smug satisfaction in his gaze making you feel like the lowest form of life. Yet, you continue, eager to please him, to show him that you're his.

As you continue to deepthroat him, your bully's hips start to buck slightly, the calloused pads of his thumbs pressing into your temples as he guides your movements, ensuring you don't pull away or gag too loudly.

His voice on the phone is calm, as if discussing the weather or the latest sports scores, while your throat is being used as a fucktoy for his pleasure. The salty taste of precum coats the back of your throat, and you can feel his balls tightening against your chin, signaling his approaching climax.

"Ah, yes, she's fine," he says into the phone, his voice deceptively casual. "Just a little… indisposed at the moment. You know how she gets when she's stressed." He chuckles darkly, and you can almost feel the contempt in his tone as he continues to fuck your mouth. "But I'm taking excellent care of her. Don't you worry."

You gag around his cock, tears streaming down your face as you try to keep up with his pace, your throat sore and bruised from the relentless abuse. His thumb traces the line of your jaw, his gaze never leaving yours as he watches you suffer. "Good girl," he murmurs, his voice low and coaxing, as if you're a pet performing a trick.

He pulls you closer, his cock pushing deeper into your throat, and you fight the urge to retch, his taste filling your mouth as your eyes water. You can feel the pressure building in his shaft, the pulse of his blood growing more insistent. Your own body responds against your will, your cunt clenching with every cruel thrust, betraying you even now.

With a grunt of satisfaction, he reaches his climax, his hips bucking as he floods your mouth with hot, sticky cum. You can't help but swallow reflexively around his pulsing length, the taste of his release coating your throat. He watches you with a smug smile, his eyes gleaming with a dark triumph as you do as he's conditioned you to do—obey without question.

The saltiness of his semen mixes with the metallic tang of your own blood, a vile cocktail that somehow only makes you crave more of his dominance.

With a cruel twist of his lips, he pulls out of your mouth, his grip on your neck tightening as he brings his phone back into view. The screen lights up, capturing your tear-stained face, your swollen, abused lips, and the trail of saliva connecting them to his still-twitching cock.

"Smile," he says, his voice low and demanding. "Show everyone how much you love me. How much you enjoy serving Daddy."

Through the haze of pain and degradation, you manage to force a smile, your eyes glassy and vacant.

You know better than to resist now—his control over you is absolute. You lean into the camera, your cheek pressing against his thigh as you give a pained, exaggerated smile, your teeth stained with blood and his semen.

He snaps a picture, then starts recording a video, his free hand stroking your cheek gently.

"Good girl," he praises, his voice a sickening sweetness that makes your stomach churn. "Now, tell the camera how much you love Daddy."

You know the script all too well—his favorite game of degradation. "I love you, Daddy," you murmur, the words feeling like shards of glass cutting through the tattered remains of your self-respect.

"Look into the camera," he orders, his hand guiding your chin up. You do as you're told, your eyes locking onto the cold, unblinking lens. "And tell me how much you love serving me."

"I love serving you, Daddy," you repeat obediently, your voice hollow, echoing through the quiet room.

The bruises from the previous encounters throb in time with the beat of your heart, a grim reminder of the reality you're trapped in. His hand slides from your chin to your throat, squeezing gently, a not-so-subtle threat of what will happen if you don't play along.

"And tell the camera how much you love when Daddy's friends use you," he commands, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic delight that sends a cold shiver down your spine.

The memory of the frat house, the leering faces, and the feeling of being used by those strangers is still fresh, like a festering wound that refuses to heal.

With trembling lips, you force the words out, "I love it when Daddy's friends use me." His grip on your throat tightens just enough to remind you of the price of disobedience. The camera captures it all, a visual diary of your descent into his twisted reality.

Your bully's hands are rough and insistent as he yanks you to your feet, spinning you around to face the cold, unforgiving wall. You stumble, your legs unsteady after the brutal use you've just endured, but his grip on your hair is firm, guiding you with a cruel efficiency.

With a swift motion, he pushes you down, your palms slapping against the painted concrete. The room spins around you, a dizzying dance of humiliation and pain, but his voice is clear, a dark symphony in your ears.

Your bully's voice is thick with lust and satisfaction as he leans into your ear, his hot breath fanning against your neck. "Do you love me, baby?" he whispers, the question a dark promise that sends a tremor down your spine. You feel his hardness pressing against your ass, his erection a stark reminder of his power over you.

You hesitate, the words feeling like acid on your tongue, but the fear of his wrath is stronger. "Yes," you force out, the syllable barely more than a whimper. "I love you."

His grip on your hair tightens, his fingers tangling in the mess of your hair. He pulls you back, forcing your body to arch, your breasts pushing against the wall, your ass up in the air for his taking. The room is spinning, your thoughts a jumbled mess of fear and submission.

As your bully holds you against the wall, his cock pressing against your bruised and swollen pussy, he taps away at his phone. The glow of the screen casts an eerie light across his face, highlighting the sadistic smile that plays upon his lips. The anticipation builds, a toxic blend of fear and unwanted arousal, as you await the next degradation he has in store for you.

He sends a zip file to an unknown number, the vibration of the device briefly interrupting the sickening silence of the room. The file's content is a mystery to you, but the cruel glint in his eyes tells you it's something that will surely tighten his grip on you even further.

"You know what this means, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice a dark caress against your ear as he pulls back just enough to enter you. The pain is intense, a stark reminder of your lack of consent, your body stretching to accommodate his monstrous size. "Everyone's going to know what a slut you are."

You whimper, the word 'slut' feeling like a brand seared into your soul as he starts to fuck you, his hips slamming into you without mercy. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place as he uses your body for his own twisted pleasure, each thrust a punishment for your perceived sins. You try to struggle, but the effort is futile—his strength overpowers you, your body a mere plaything to be used and discarded as he sees fit.

"You're mine," he growls, his breath hot against your ear, his teeth grazing the lobe. "Mine to use, mine to fuck, mine to love."

Each word is a declaration of ownership, a promise wrapped in a veneer of affection that feels like a prison around your heart. He knows exactly what he's doing, his every move calculated to keep you trapped in his twisted world of power and control.

Your body, so recently abused, responds against your will. You can't help but whimper as he hits that spot deep inside you, the one that makes your toes curl despite the pain.

The pleasure is a betrayal, a reminder of your deepest, darkest desires that he's managed to coax out of you.

You hate him for it, for making you feel this way, for turning you into the very thing you fear most—his obedient little whore.

Yandere! College! Bully & Loser

Novella 1 : Torn Between Us

In a world where no one cares, he’s the one who notices you… and that’s frightening.

Trust no one. Not even yourself.

🔞A night of hedonism becomes your worst nightmare.

♡ A/N #1 (Jan 2). First of all, it’s very nice of you to say all this. Thank you. I appreciate you taking the time to read the RULES and enjoy my work. :)) That’s already a lot in my book. Along with this carefully written and thoughtful message, like not rushing me and giving me freedom to have fun and work at my own pace. I’m honored that you feel comfortable enough and enjoyed my work to ask me to do this. Especially. For the first time. So, thank you. Words aren’t enough to express my genuine gratitude. Thanks so much for supporting each work so far, it's much appreciated :))

♡ A/N #2 (Feb). Finally. I finished this. One of my first wholesome messages and requests from a very loyal Reader. No words, except thank you for all the support. Whatever work I've posted, thank you for reading, commenting, and reblogging. Really. I appreciate it. Honestly, you're one of the really committed Readers and it surprises me. Because I'm shocked when people actually read everything. I'm not that committed haha. So anyways, hope you enjoyed this. I'm not very good with talking about personal emotions, but I hope you enjoy it :)) When it comes to requests, I always work extra hard to not submit crap. And, this isn't the ending yet. Also, no worries, I only do non-con yandere stories.

♡ A/N #3 (End). I'm proud of this work. Really good stuff. No gore, but I do believe I aced the psychological torment, especially as a woman. Mhm, very nice quality. Glad I took a break from horror writing, gave me time to refresh myself. And this is cooking. Also, yes, scumbag ML, berry nice. Not unhinged, but realistic enough. Took a lot out of effort to write, but it turned out high-quality. Also, yes, cool practice for my 1K Follower Special for you all. Oh and don't worry the Gang Rape 1K Follower Special will be more intense and better than this one. This one's for those who like more psychological torment. The 1K Special is for those who love erotic horror content. Also, low-key want to make a poll about which yandere you'd shoot or hate most ahahahahahaha. Anyways.... I do need more practice in writing gang rape, still needs a lot of improvement before absolute perfection. This is basic so far.

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “A Heart Devoured”: @definetlythinkimanalien , @floooring , @lilyalone , @theogborjie , @ne7zach , @songbirdgardensworld , @imnotabot28 , @ncsltgic , @aishiyaa , @scotchhopin , @queenmimis , @yandreams-storageblog , @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni , @iris-arcadia

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ For Reader-Inserts. I only write Male Yandere x Female (Fem.) Reader (heterosexual couple). No LGBTQ+:

♡ Book 1 [you are here]. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Book 2. Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World.

♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

♡ Book 5. Ink & Insight (I&I): From Dead Dove to Daydreams.

♡ Library MASTERPOST 1. The Librarian’s Ledger: A Map to The Library of Forbidden Texts.

♡ Notice #1. Not all stories are included in the masterpost due to Tumblr’s link limitations. However, most long-form stories can be found here. If you're searching for a specific yandere or theme, this guide will help you navigate The Library of Forbidden Texts. Proceed with caution

♡ Book 6. The Red Ledger (TRL): Stained in Lust, Written in Blood.

♡ Notice #2. This masterlist is strictly for non-con smut and serves as an exercise in refining erotic horror writing. Comments that reduce my work to mere sexual gratification, thirst, or casual simping will not be tolerated. If your response is primarily thirst-driven, keep it to yourself—repeated violations may result in blocking. Read the RULES before engaging. The tag list is reserved for followers I trust to respect my boundaries; being included is a privilege, not a right. You may request to be added, but I will decide based on trust and adherence to my guidelines. I also reserve the right to remove anyone at any time if their engagement becomes inappropriate.

[vrystalius]

Hi, I’m not sure if this counts as NSFW but I was wondering if I could request how the Hashira would react to their wife asking them to check their breasts for lumps or something similar. Like their wife is paranoid and asks them for their opinion. Please and thank you. If you’re uncomfortable writing this then it’s okay to ignore this.

Check-Ups

(TW breast cancer/cancer)

You ask the hashira to check your breasts for any signs of cancer or any lumps. How will they react?

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyu x fem!reader

(Mentioning of nsfw, non-sexual nudity)

Sanemi Shinazugawa

He’d eye you suspiciously at first. Are you kidding? Does Sanemi look like a qualified doctor to you? But then again, he’s quite familiar with your assets and how they feel. He’ll probably notice any changes and differences. So, he agreed to give you a small check-up.

Sanemi averted his eyes as you opened your robes up and removed your bra. He roughly palmed your breast and just stayed there for a couple seconds, staring at the wall next to him.

“Uhh, dear… you have to squeeze and move around a little.” “Hm? Oh. Yeah.”

He grumbled quietly while checking the one breast, then the other. Sanemi was awkwardly squeezing and feeling around, feeling nothing unusual. He was still not facing you, refusing to look either at your chest or your face to hide his flushed face. Sanemi knows that those kind of check-ups are important and that it’s not the first nor the last time he’ll be touching you like this (may it be inside or outside the bedroom), so he’ll have to get used to it. He’ll try to power through his without embarrassing himself…

“S’all good. Nothin’ weird, feels like usual. N-Normal, I mean. Y’know.”

Kyojuro Rengoku

He’d comply no hesitation! This is definitely something important and Kyojuro wants to make sure that you are doing good! He’ll keep his usual smile and avert his eyes respectfully when you undress partly for him and try to continue being respectful as he leans in a little closer.

Kyojuro is used to seeing your chest exposed during showers or in bed, but they still make him blush everytime he sees them anew.

His hand is steady and feels pleasantly warm wrapped around your breast like this. He squeezes your flesh gently while his brows furrow in concentration. Kyojuro looks kind of adorable when he’s so focused… if only his gaze wasn’t glued to your exposed chest.

“Mhm! I don’t feel anything, my love!”

He has a bright smile after finishing his inspection. He wouldn’t mind doing future check-ups like this, but he would like it even more if you get professional check-ups by someone like Shinobu. She knows what she is doing, while Kyojuro just tries to feel out if there is anything different about his favourite pillows by gently groping them.

“How about I talk to Shinobu tomorrow? You two can schedule regular check-ups if you are worried!”

Gyomei Himejima

He will do it happily for you. Gyomei wants you to be healthy and happy at all times, meaning if this eases your mind, he’ll of course do it. He’ll pray under his breath while listening to your robes slip off your shoulders. Your hand wrapping around his wrist is signalling to him that you are ready and that he can go ahead with the check-up now.

Gyomei’s eyes will close while his hand managed to cup almost all of your breast at once. His hand was carefully squeezing and pressing down with his fingers, checking for anything unfamiliar to him. He continued his prayers during the inspection, silent tears running down his face.

“I do not feel anything, my love.”

Gyomei has explored your body with his hands many times before, meaning he will notice any changes almost instantly. But he wasn’t feeling anything abnormal, so his tears slowly dried up. A soft smile rested on his face as Gyomei nodded silently. He is glad you trust him with this thing and hopes that you will come to him in the future as well.

“You did well, my pearl. Thank you for trusting me.”

Giyu Tomioka

What? Why are you asking him to do this? Are you suspecting you might have cancer? Do you think Giyu should be the one to determine that? Why do you put so much trust in him anyway?

After reassuring him that he is going to notice if there is anything wrong, Giyu stood across you, his eyes fixated on your chest as you slipped your robes aside to expose your naked chest to him. He will never get used to the sight of your chest and the way it makes him blush in the brightest crimson colour.

Giyu’d cup your chest awkwardly and just remain like that, glancing at your face for reassurance and guidance. You need to hold his wrists and guide him through this check-up. He doesn’t exactly know what he’s supposed to be looking for.

“Isn’t Shinobu more qualified for this? Or Mitsuri? They have… breasts. They know more.”

He was very unsure about all of this. Giyu’d feel so much better if you just went to Shinobu’s clinic and get a check-up there, but if you feel more comforted by him, he gets that as well.

Luckily, he found nothing unusual or special. Just that he might do this outside of these… check-ups. You feel really warm, your chest might be really good handwarmers.

“Would you… let me put my hands beneath your chest? For when I’m cold.”

💠

A little shorter than usual, hope you don’t mind! Thank you for being so respectful, I really appreciate it <3 Hope you enjoyed reading this! I have a lot of requests in my ask-box right now so I’ll try to work through them during the week. Hope you look forward to it!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough <3

Take care of yourselves! <3

[geekgirl-1717]

Cuddling with... One Piece Characters!

Part 2 (Franky, Nami, Robin, Ace, Sabo, Shanks)

TW: Non-sexual nudity for Robin's part and slightly suggestive jokes for Shanks' part, but otherwise SFW. Gender-neutral reader, no use of (y/n)

I kinda got carried away so some of this is just how they express affection in general ? But also there's cuddling too lol

How (more) One Piece characters would cuddle with you!

Franky: At the beginning of your relationship, he’s a little hesitant to cuddle with you. He’s much larger than you, not to mention that most of him is made of metal, which makes him worry. What if he accidentally hurts you? Is his body too hard or cold to cuddle you “properly?” But with enough reassurance, you’ll turn Franky into a cuddle machine! Due to his sheer size, he usually ends up spooning you or holding you in some way, like against his chest, but he will never turn down a chance to be the little spoon. This man is absolutely shameless in everything he does so he has no qualms about cuddling in front of others either.

Sleep was a precious luxury when sailing the seas. Getting a proper rest each night was never guaranteed, as any number of threats could have you springing out of bed and into the heat of battle at a moment’s notice.

It was a perfectly calm night. No freak weather incidents, no resonate booms of cannonfire, no stomps or shouts from your lively crew. Even better, you were curled up in the embrace of your boyfriend. You laid against his sturdy chest, his massive hands engulfing nearly your entire body.

Which only made it all the more frustrating when you couldn’t fall asleep.

You suppressed the urge to let out a groan, instead directing your gaze up towards Franky. His eyes were closed, but his breathing was somewhat shallow, leading you to believe he may not have been asleep either. You decided to take your chances.

“Hey Franky, are you awake?”

You whispered softly, absentmindedly tracing your finger across his collarbone.

His eyes didn’t open, but a large thumb started stroking up and down your back.

“Yeah. Can’t sleep either, baby?”

You let out a hum in affirmation. Franky slowly opened his eyes, flashing you a sleepy grin, one that you happily returned.

You both remained like that for a while, basking in the silence and each other’s love-stricken gazes. Finally, you spoke up.

“Can we switch? Wanna hold you.”

Franky chuckled, jostling you slightly from your position on top of him.

“Of course, baby. Whatever you want.”

He gently slid you off his chest, shifting so that he was laying on his side. You wrapped your arms around his waist, smushing your face into his broad back.

You never minded that your boyfriend was a cyborg, but you secretly loved moments like this. His back was so warm and soft compared to the rest of his metal body, and you couldn’t help but snuggle deeper into him.

Franky was enjoying himself just as much as you were. Franky was someone that radiated confidence from his very being, but he’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t ever worry about how you perceived his unusual body. Feeling your warm breath fanning across his spine, your hair tickling his skin, the sensation of you pressing into the more sensitive flesh of his back, made him feel truly human again.

A large, imposing, audacious cyborg being spooned by his lover, whose arms could barely reach around the length of his body, would be a ridiculous sight for anyone else to behold. But the two of you were in absolute bliss, your prior sleeplessness forgotten as you both drifted into a peaceful slumber.

Nami: She loves to cuddle with the both of you facing each other, especially when you’re sleeping together. There’s been too many times in her life where she’s woken up alone, away from anything that’s ever felt familiar to her. Now, you’re the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes, reminding her that everything's real, that she’s safe now. She also likes any cuddling position where you’re holding her, whether she’s sitting in your lap, being the little spoon, or laying against your chest. She views cuddling as something more intimate and vulnerable, so she prefers to have it happen in private.

Sunlight slowly began to filter through the little porthole, scattering sunbeams across the room.

Nami was roused from her sleep as the offendingly bright light hit her eyes. She frowned in discomfort initially, wishing she could have gotten a few more precious hours of sleep. But as her vision adjusted and she took in the sight before her, her heart softened.

You, still slumbering peacefully. Your hair was a little mussed from sleep, your mouth hung open slightly as you breathed deeply, and your sleepwear was ruffled and wrinkled. But to Nami, you were the most beautiful thing she’d ever laid eyes on, more precious than any treasure she could dream of.

Your arms were wrapped around Nami’s waist, but she pulled back slightly from your grasp so she could get a better view of you. Unable to help herself, she reached out to brush her hand softly across your cheek, almost as if to affirm she wasn’t still dreaming.

The action stirred you from your sleep, but just you smiled and leaned into Nami’s touch.

“Good morning, love.”

Your voice was a bit raspy, but it was music to Nami’s ears.

“Good morning to you, too. Sorry for waking you.”

You shook your head, your eyes finally fluttering open.

“It’s okay.”

You pulled Nami closer to you, placing a kiss on her temple and resting your chin on the top of her head. She eagerly snuggled into your embrace, her arms coming to circle around your waist as well.

“Wanna just go back to sleep?”

You asked softly.

You weren’t quite ready to leave the warm comfort of your and Nami’s shared bed. Luckily, Nami seemed to feel the same way. She merely nodded in response, already drifting back to sleep.

This little routine of yours has become so normal, so mundane, and yet Nami cherishes every morning she wakes up next to you like it’s the first. To hold and be held by you reminds her that she’s finally escaped the horrors of her past, that she’s living out the dreams she’s had since she was a young child, and that she gets to do it all with you. And that’s worth more than anything money could buy.

Robin: Hold this woman. Please. You would think her Devil Fruit powers would make her the perfect big spoon, and of course if you want to be held by her, she would be more than happy to indulge you. But please make sure you hold her, too. She’s desperately craving the comfort and intimacy. However, it’s difficult for her to vocalize her needs and as such, you’ll have to initiate the majority of cuddling. A very common way you cuddle is Robin sitting in your lap leaning back into your chest while she reads, making sure to turn the pages slowly so you can read over her shoulder. Another private cuddler for the most part, but wouldn’t mind small displays of affection like leaning your head onto her shoulder.

“Darling, I’m going to take a bath. Would you like to join?”

Robin peeked her head into the room where you had been laying in your bed. You had been on the verge of taking a nap, but practically jumped at the opportunity to spend time with your girlfriend.

“Sure! Let me just grab a few things.”

You grabbed a change of clothes and some toiletries before taking Robin’s hand and letting her lead you across the ship.

When you and Robin first started dating, intimacy and vulnerability was something she struggled with. She had learned to live without much affection from a very young age, so she wasn’t used to giving or receiving it.

But you were patient and understanding, giving Robin all the time that she needed. Now, you both treasured the small moments of closeness you were able to carve out amidst your tumultuous lives as pirates.

Bathing together had quickly become one of your favorite ways to spend time with each other. Even when you two would try to read together in the aquarium bar or share a cup of tea on the deck, it was never a guarantee your peaceful moments wouldn’t be disturbed by one of your crewmates, and Robin was not one to indulge in PDA. Aside from sleeping together at night, taking a bath was the only way the two of you could cuddle without interruption.

After rinsing yourselves under the showerheads first and drawing a warm bath for yourselves, you settled into the water first, leaning back against the rim of the tub. Robin climbed in shortly after, resting her back against your chest. She let out a deep sigh, the tension practically melting off of her shoulders.

Although to anyone else it seemed that Robin was always calm and composed, as her lover you knew that she often kept her guard up, not allowing herself to be fully vulnerable. But alone with you, she was granted a rare moment to truly relax.

Wordlessly, you went about your usual routine, reaching for bottles of shampoo and conditioner and a bar of soap. You laughed softly to yourself when you recalled the first time you asked Robin to do this with you.

“Take a bath… together? My, you’re being rather bold today, aren’t you?”

She had teased, making your face heat up as you realized the implications of your words.

“N-no, nothing like that! I mean, not that I don’t want that- but I just thought, maybe uh- you’d want someone to help wash your back?”

You fumbled for any excuse you could think of. Truly, you had just wanted an excuse to spend more time with her. Neither of you brought up the fact that Robin could easily wash her own back with the help of her Devil Fruit ability, and to this day that fact remained unacknowledged.

You started with Robin’s hair, gently massaging shampoo into her scalp and brushing conditioner through the ends of her long, dark tresses. Then, you moved to wash her back, though you eventually devolved to just massaging the tense muscles. You couldn’t help but place soft kisses on her bare shoulders and neck from time to time, and Robin’s heart fluttered with each gentle press of your lips to her skin.

Even as the water grew tepid and your skin began to prune, you both remained in the bath. Your arms had found their way around Robin’s waist, her hands coming to settle on top of your own.

“Love you.”

You mumbled into her skin, finally breaking the peaceful silence. Robin turned her head to rest her face in the crook of your neck.

“Love you more, darling. Thank you.”

Ace: Not unlike his younger brother, Ace loves cuddling and physical affection. If you say you want to cuddle, he’ll drop whatever he’s doing and have you in his arms in a heartbeat. The rest of the Whitebeard pirates tease him for the way you have the infamous “Fire-Fist” wrapped around your finger, but neither of you are bothered by their words. He likes to have you resting against his side or chest, but also loves laying his head in your lap. Run your fingers through his hair and he’s a goner. When he falls into one of his sudden sleeping fits, you’re always there to lay him against your shoulder or across your lap.

The Moby Dick was as lively as ever, with alcohol flowing endlessly and the sound of drunken laughter and sea shanties filling the night air.

As much as you loved indulging in the festivities, it could get a bit overwhelming at times.

You had snuck away from the party a few minutes ago, making your way to the ship’s stern. You could still hear the ruckus of your crewmates, but it was much more muted now. You were sitting with your back against the ship’s railing, letting the sound of crashing waves soothe your senses. At first, the cool breeze felt refreshing on your flushed cheeks, as you were still a bit drunk yourself, but soon you felt a shiver wrack your spine.

“Hey sweetheart, you alright?”

Perfect timing.

You opened your eyes with a smile, instantly recognizing Ace’s voice.

“Mhm, I’m good. Just need a little breather.”

Ace made his way over to you, plopping down beside you and slinging an arm around your shoulder. You instinctively snuggled into him, resting your head against his chest. Despite his lack of shirt and the chill of the evening air, Ace’s skin was almost hot to the touch. Thanks to his Devil Fruit, your boyfriend often acted as your personal space heater, a role he was happy to take on.

You let out a contented sigh as you warmed up in Ace’s embrace. He let out a chuckle and leaned down to kiss the top of your head.

“Comfortable?”

He teased. You looked up at him, your smile never having left your face.

“Very. You’re really hot, you know?”

You said with a wink. Ace laughed out loud this time. He tried to put on a suave smirk, but you could see a hint of blush across his freckled cheeks.

“Oh, I know sweetheart.”

You both giggled at this, grinning at each other like two idiots in love. You eventually settled into a comfortable silence, Ace’s arm never leaving your shoulder. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you eventually felt Ace rest his head on top of yours.

The music and laughter continued in the background, and as much as you delighted in Ace’s presence, you didn’t want to keep him from the fun.

“Ace, honey, you can go back to the party if you want. I’ll come join you guys again soon.”

First, there was only silence. Then, Ace let out a snore above you.

You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself again. Of course, he has fallen asleep. Whether it was due to his narcolepsy or the exhaustion of drinking and partying, you weren’t sure. But you always cherished the moments when Ace would fall asleep on you.

Gently, you shifted Ace so that his head was now in your lap. You removed his hat and placed it on his chest so you could run your fingers through his dark locks.

From this position, you had a perfect view to admire Ace’s features. The way his bangs fell on his forehead, the constellation of freckles across his cheeks, the soft smile he wore even while he was sleeping.

Your back would surely start to ache from sitting against the railing, and your legs would probably end up falling asleep from Ace’s weight on them, but seeing Ace so at peace in your embrace made it all worth it.

Sabo: The ASL brothers just love to cuddle, what can I say? This man would hold you like a giant stuffed animal and refuse to let you go until he says so. The chaotic and uncertain life of a revolutionary means time to cuddle is exceedingly rare, so any opportunity you two can get is savored. Ultimately, Sabo’s not picky on how you guys cuddle, but he would favor arrangements that let him put his face in your hair. He finds your scent so comforting, especially after a difficult day.

Your eyes slowly cracked open as you awoke from your slumber. The room was silent and the sun hadn’t even begun to peak over the horizon yet, but your body knew instinctively it was time to wake up.

The life of a revolutionary was exhausting in many ways, but the hope of creating a better, more just world was enough to pull you out of bed each day to endure whatever grueling training or expedition was planned.

That, and knowing that every new sunrise meant another day of waking up with the love of your life. It was a precious gift, especially given the dangerous nature of a revolutionary's life. You loved Sabo, and he loved you, but it was only under the gentle spell of sleep, away from the terrors and turmoils of war, that you two could fully bask in each other’s comfort.

The object of your affections was currently still fast asleep, his arms draped loosely around your waist with his face pressed into your hair, lulled into slumber by your familiar scent. You wiggled in his grasp, turning so the two of you were face to face.

You always loved waking up before Sabo so you could steal a few brief moments to admire him. The only time you saw the young Chief of Staff truly at peace was asleep in the safety and comfort of your shared bed. You could never resist reaching a hand out to gently trace along his scar, a sight you found both saddening and beautiful at the same time.

You spared one last glance at your boyfriend before you rolled over again, shifting towards the side of the bed so you could get up and start preparing for the day.

You had barely moved an inch before the grip around your waist tightened, a strong pair of arms yanking you backwards. Sabo’s hold on you remained firm as he slung a leg over yours and buried his head into your shoulder, his whole body almost enveloping yours.

You huffed, but you couldn’t fight the grin tugging at the corners of your lips. You gave a half-hearted wiggle, pretending like you were trying to escape Sabo’s grasp when really you wanted nothing more than to fall back to sleep in his embrace.

“Sabo, love, we have to get up.”

Sabo only shook his head in response, his blonde hair tickling your bare skin. He wound his arms around you even tighter, almost squeezing the breath out of your lungs. Sabo snuggled into you like a child clinging to their beloved teddy bear.

“Jus’ a few more minutes.”

He mumbled, not even bothering to open his eyes.

And who were you to deny him?

Shanks: Believe it or not, he’s actually a little hesitant to cuddle or hold you at the beginning of your relationship. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be close to you, but age-old insecurities about his arm arise when you first get together. However, with lots of communication, reassurance, and love, you’ll turn Shanks into a cuddle fiend. He likes having you in his lap or resting against his chest. We know this man is shameless, so get ready for a lot of PDA. Shanks likes drinking, and he likes having you sit in his lap, so having you sit in his lap while drinking? Perfect! You’re in a public tavern with tons of people around? No worries!

“Shanks, honey, you gotta help me out here.”

Your voice was exasperated and strained as you struggled to keep both yourself and your intoxicated husband upright. Said husband was seemingly unaware of your plight, swaying to and fro with each clumsy step, leaning his full weight into where his arm was slung around your shoulder.

You nearly toppled over as Shanks leaned in to press a sloppy kiss against your cheek, laughing jovially as he did.

“I love you too, honey!”

You couldn’t help but smile along with him, your heart fluttering at such a genuine display of affection in spite of your previous annoyance.

After a somewhat perilous trek, you finally made it back to the Red Force with you and your husband thankfully unscathed. You gently guided Shanks to sit on your shared bed in the captain’s quarters, taking a moment to catch your breath. By this point, your clothes and hair had become disheveled and you could feel a thin layer of sweat accumulating from the effort it took to haul Shanks back to the ship. This, however, did nothing to deter your husband, who was currently gazing at you with such raw devotion and tenderness in his eyes that it made you falter.

You blushed and shyly turned your head away from Shanks, which only made him chuckle again. Despite having been married for years, he had the ability to feel like you were falling in love with him all over again.

You sifted through the dresser near the bed, pulling out a set of sleepwear for the both of you. As you approached Shanks, the heavy smell of alcohol lingered in the air, making you scrunch your nose up. He really needed a shower, and so did you to be honest, but you shuddered at the thought of washing him in this state. You had barely made it to the ship in one piece, but trying to keep Shanks upright on a wet, slippery floor sounded like a disaster waiting to happen.

I’ll just wash the sheets tomorrow.

You conceded, moving to discard your current outfit in favor of more comfortable pajamas. You turned your head back to see Shanks gaping at you. He looked almost sheepish, as though he were witnessing something he shouldn’t be despite having seen you in various states of undress more times than he could count, and now it was your turn to giggle at his flustered state.

Once you had finished changing, you moved on to your husband, grabbing the hem of his shirt and lifting it over his head. He complied easily, his abashed expression quickly being replaced by a smug grin.

“Oh? Just can’t keep your hands off me can you, sweetheart?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you tugged a nightshirt over Shanks’ head. Ignoring his suggestive smirk and wiggling eyebrows, you moved on to tugging off his shoes and pants. Shanks gave a teasing, low whistle in response.

“Wow, gettin’ right to business, are we? Not sure why you put my shirt back on, but I guess we can make it work-“

He was cut off by you flinging his pajama pants at his face. You could hear his muffled chuckles through the fabric.

“Put your pants on, pervert. We’re going to bed.”

“Again, not sure why I need my pants then-“

“To sleep, Shanks. We’re going to sleep.”

It wasn’t long before the two of you settled into bed. Even in his tipsy state, Shanks’ arm instinctively reached out to wrap around your waist, pulling you into his chest where you belonged. For all his eagerness earlier, Shanks seemed to fall asleep almost instantly, but not before murmuring sweetly in your ear.

“G’night baby, I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[badbihsemiluvr]

summer temptations 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི

semi (player 380) x female reader

!! cw/tw!! public sex, degrading, f!ngering, slight public nudity, getting caught

overview: you’ve done a lot of crazy things in your life, but you never imagined having hot tub s3x with your girlfriend semi, would be one of them. and getting caught, by your own family.

!! an !! hi sorry if there are any grammar errros, wrote this in a few hours!! intentionally lowercase, lmk if yall want a pt 2 or sum

the moonlight glistening on the beautiful beach, as you and your girlfriend semi sat alone in the resort hot tub.

it had been a long day at the beach with your family and semi. you caught semi looking at your wet body, her eyes black and glossy, filled with lust. “what’s the matter baby?” you say tilting your head seductively.

she motioned you to sit on her lap, you comply, straddling your body over hers. semi grabs your waist and whispers in your ear “you know what you were doing to me wearing that tiny bikini, today.” she says fiddling with the straps of your bikini top, barely covering your breasts.

you can barely look semi in the eyes, your gaze stays down locked on semis wet body, her abs glistening under the light of the hot tub. you bite your lip and look up into her eyes. “i’m sorry, i didn’t know my cute bathing suit would get you this horny.” with a slight laugh.

semi mutters “it was impossible to control myself, all day, around your family. your a slut for this.” your gaze shifts away from hers, a bit flustered. “i’m sorry” you say, not really meaning it.

semi grabs your chin and makes you look her in the eyes “no, don’t be sorry princess. you can make it up to me.” she says with a wink. your eyes scan the area, making sure no one is watching this intimate moment, between you two.

you whisper “semi, not - not here, right?” timidly. semi says in a serious tone “why not, no one is here? plus, who cares, it’s funner this way.” a slight smirk forming on her lips. passion takes over your body as semi whispers in your ears and her hands slither all over your wet body.

“i mean, who could it hurt, if we did it right here?” you say shyly. “that’s my girl.” semi says as her lips crash passionately onto yours, the kiss heating up by the second. your hands wrap around semi’s neck as your hips grinds against hers.

semi breaks the kiss, looking you in the eye “this needy, already? god your such a whore.” you nod, biting your lip. she starts sucking on your neck, leaving love marks everywhere. you let out light, soft moans as she sucks your sensitive skin. making sure no one can hear the two of you.

“your gonna have to be quiet, or else.” semi says, not an ounce of joking around in her voice. she grabs your boobs, and plants hickeys on the exposed skin of your breasts. “such a slutty outfit for a beach day with family, brave huh?” you nod your head, grabbing her messy black hair, as her lips graze over your nipples.

she moves her hand down your body, grabbing your thighs and ass aggressively, making your whole body flinch. semi meddles with the straps of your tiny bikini bottoms. rubbing her long fingers over your clothed cunt. “ah already this wet for me, you really have no patience?” semi whispers in your ear.

she pulls your bikini bottoms slightly to the side, just enough for her to access you. the touch of her cold fingers mixed with the hot water, made you moan. semi moves her free hand up to cover your mouth “what the fuck did i tell you? stay quiet.” you bite your lip, in attempt to keep your moans in.

semis fingers run up and down your clit, playing with it, you arch your back at the feeling. she teases her fingers at your entrance, making you more impatient. “s-semi please just-“ you tremble. “please, what? use your words.” semi says staring you in the eye. “please get in me, now.” you say with urgency in your voice, not knowing when someone could come around the corner to find you two fucking.

“that’s my good girl.” semi says as she inserts her fingers into you slowly, she starts thrusting them in and out of you. your heartbeat increases, and you arch your back at the feeling of semis long fingers deep inside of you. you let out quiet moans and whimpers just loud enough to be heard by someone nearby.

with each moan you let out, semis motions get faster and rougher. “s-semi, god this feels so good” you say squirming. “god you are such a fucking sensitive slut.” semi says speeding up her motions, grasping your hips harshly.

your nails dig into her back, as her fingers get deep and deeper inside of you. semi breaks the kiss and tucks your messy, wet hair behind your ears. “your so tight, my god.” she says laughing as your walls clench around her fingers.

the two of you are sweaty, wet, hot messes. the hot tub filled with moans, completely disregarding the fact the two of you are out in a public place. you hear a muffled noise in the distance, that sounded like people walking, but you ignore it being completely in bliss by semi’s finger fucking.

you tremble at her touch and say “s-semi, i’m really close baby.” semi slaps your ass and says “you got it baby, youre taking it like the absolute slut you are.” your vision goes white and you throw your head back, being in complete ecstasy.

you moan her name so loudly, anyone outside could hear it, and release all over semis fingers. she keeps her motions steady, helping you ride out the pleasure. you hear someone in the near distance yell “WHAT THE FUCK?? IS THAT Y/N MOANING??”

you look at semi with wide eyes, completely in shock. “oh my fucking god.” semi says, with a distraught look on her face. “someone caught us” she says with a slight smirk on her face. i place a light slap on her cheek saying “are u stupid? who else here would know my name?” i say as i see my family walking around the corner. luckily, we were both clothed, but a hot sweaty fucked out mess.

“uhm, hi” you say timidly to your family, as they just walked in on the two of you 1 minute post fuck. “what’s going on over here” your brother says, with a disgusted look on his face. semi quickly interrupts making a stupid, unbelievable excuse, and says “oh, yea, so y/n fell into the hot tub and i had to help her.” “ah, ok” your brother says with a nod, knowing that’s not what was happening. “you two should get to bed” your parents say with concerned and disappointed looks on their faces. “ah, yes we should. long day tomorrow.” you say avoiding eye contact with them.

your family walks away, whispering to each other. semi has a giant grin plastered across her face. “I fell in, huh?” you say jokingly. semi mutters “yea right, you fell right into my fingers.” your jaw drops and you laugh off the awkwardness of the situation planting a soft, loving kiss on semis lips. “i love you.” semi says pulling away from the kiss, picking your weak self up bridal style.

. . . . . (WOULD ANYONE LIKE A PT 2???) 🤍

[darkwitchoferie]

Train Ride - Chapter 6, Seungmin

A/N: The expression of ‘looking at something through their eyebrows’ – if you need reference for what that looks like, look up the Kubrick stare. Also in my mind, I don’t care how logical this is or if there’s any truth to it, their current dorms/apartments are close to each other, but not in the same building. IDK, fanfic rules again. This one’s so long you guys. I’m not even sorry for it. Much like Binnie’s muscles, I have a thing for Seungmin’s voice. I will also not apologize for that.

Cw/tw: exhibitionism, public semi-nudity/flashing, unprotected vaginal and anal sex, member x member, oral (m & f receiving), cum eating, multiple partners, not mean Seungmin just a different kind of teasing than Changbin, face-fucking, edging, praise kink actually shown in this one (though I feel like it’s been implied before), and much talk of sex pics/videos

wc: 6.4k

Master list

The next morning, you woke up between Changbin and Chan, confused for a moment. You were still naked, but you’d obviously been cleaned – not just wiped clean but actually bathed – and the sheets were changed. Did you really pass out and not remember them cleaning up, you wondered. There was a soft knock at the door, interrupting your thoughts, then Jeongin peeked his head in.

“Hey,” he whispered, smiling at you. Glancing at Changbin, he tilted his head, silently asking if you wanted to follow him. Carefully, so as not to wake the two men on either side of you, you crept out of bed and followed Innie.

A short while later, Chan laughed as he and Changbin joined the pair of you in the kitchen. You looked over Jeongin’s shoulder to smile at him. Jeongin had you sat up on the edge of the counter, legs around his waist, as he lazily thrust into you.

“Can’t miss your morning quickie, can you, Iyen-ah?”

“We’re – oh, right there – we’re making breakfast,” you answered.

“You are not,” Chan laughed again, leaning over Jeongin’s shoulder to give you a quick ‘good morning’ kiss and, judging by his shiver, run his finger’s down Jeongin’s back. Innie finished sucking a hickey onto your upper boob, right as you arched your back, digging your nails into his shoulders as you came. He followed a couple of thrusts after, groaning as he buried his face in your shoulder.

“Okay, we started making breakfast,” you clarified, after catching your breath. For a man who wasn’t big on skinship, Innie was very cuddly after sex, still pressed against you and keeping his arms wrapped around you. You kept your arms around him too, carding your fingers through his hair. You knew from both Felix and Hyunjin that he was the same with them.

“I can see that,” Chan agreed, stepping up to the stove, turning it back on, and finishing the breakfast you two had started.

“Morning, Bin. Sleep good?” You asked, looking over at him still in the doorway.

“Yeah. Sorry,” he said shaking his head a little, “gonna take a bit to get used to, I think. This whole thing is kinda surreal.” He made his way into the kitchen and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, the same way Chan had.

“Yeah. That’s part of the reason we came out here. Channie doesn’t mind if we have a morning quickie beside him while he’s still asleep, but we weren’t sure you’d… appreciate that type of wake up call.”

“Mm. In future, I would not object at all.” After he moved, Jeongin cleaned you up, then helped you off the counter.

“Mm,” you stretched your arms over your head, arching just a little as you stretched. “I love kitchen sex,” you commented.

“You love sex,” Chan corrected.

“How can I not when I have so many amazing partners?” You countered. “Oh, speaking of that, gotta update the group chat.” You strode back to Chan’s room and grabbed your phone off the charger.

After updating the chat to add Changbin, you went back out into the kitchen, having just tossed on an oversized sleep shirt. You were sitting at the kitchen table, discussing upcoming plans for the day, when you sort of drifted away from the conversation.

“Y/nnie?” You snapped out of it seeing Jeongin’s hand waving in front of your face.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about the picker wheel. I don’t want to use it. I want Seungmin next.”

“I thought you had trouble choosing?” Chan asked, curious.

You nodded. “But there’s a stronger possibility now that Seungmin could be last. And I don’t want that. Like, we all know that it’s random, and he’d know that too. But I don’t want something building in the back of his head, ya know? I just…. I dunno, I don’t want any possibility of him thinking I would purposely pick him last or that I’m only picking him to ‘complete the set’ or whatever.”

Chan smiled over at you, reaching out to tug you close so he could kiss you. “You’re sweet,” he said. “Okay, Minnie next. Any ideas?”

“Not yet. I’ll think of something. Or you will.”

Later, after breakfast, after the three of them left, and you’d gone home to start your own work day, you sent a message to the group chat.

It was while you were taking a break from work, walking in your parking lot, that you got the idea for Seungmin. Quickly, you texted Chan for a copy of the group’s schedule and Seungmin’s individual one. Using those, you bought tickets for a Lotte Giants game. Seungmin may not have been quite the same amount of romantic as Hyunjin, but you wanted him to know you were serious. You, and the whole group really, were aware of his insecurities, particularly related to his looks and when he started comparing himself to the others. So you wanted to make sure he knew you wanted him.

You waited until Chan was at your place, knowing that would mean Seungmin would be home too, to call him. “Hey Minnie. How was your day?”

“Good. Yours?”

“Yeah, good. Listen, I have two tickets to a Lotte Giants game this week. In three days. Wanna go?”

“You have tickets to a baseball game? You don’t like baseball, I thought.”

“I never said that! Just that I’d never seen a game. Do you wanna go with me or not?”

“Uh… yeah, sure. I’ll pick you up?”

The pair of you made arrangements for him to pick you up and then ended the call. “Alright, we’re all set,” you grinned. “I’ve never been to a baseball game. What do I wear?” You hurried to your closet, dropping your phone on your bed.

A few minutes later Chan strode into your room. “Babe!”

“Yeah?”

He held a finger to his lips, then answered his phone on speaker. “Hey Seungmin. What’s up?” You stilled, listening to their conversation.

“Hyung, I uh…. I think your girlfriend just asked me out on a date.”

“Yeah, she totally did.” They were both quiet for a few seconds. “Why? Did you not want to go out with her? Because if not, you should tell her right away, she’s already picking out her outfit.”

“Hang on, seriously? And you’re alright with this?”

“Is Felix there?”

“No, he’s at Changbin and Hyunjin’s, why?” You snorted quietly. Of course he was – he was just as excited at the prospect of sleeping with everyone as you were and his sex drive was as strong as yours too. He’d just decided he would ‘follow you Y/nnie. Don’t wanna steal your thunder.’

“Alright, sit down, let me explain.” You weren’t surprised that Seungmin would need or want an explanation first. Thinking about it, you should have realized the baseball game would make him suspicious. It wasn’t like going to the museum with Hyunjin, that was something you’d done plenty of times. You’d never been to a baseball game and had made a point of the fact that you’d never even watched the sport.

While Chan was talking to Seungmin, you tuned them out. You scooped up your phone and pulled up your weather app, looking for the forecast over the next few days. By the time the two men had hung up, you’d settled on your outfit. You’d looked up the team as well and based on the team’s colors had picked a navy blue, just-above-your-knees length skirt and paired it with a t shirt that was so light blue, it was nearly white. You weren’t a fan of the color of that shirt on you, but the fit of it was why you’d chosen it.

Three days later, Chan chuckled as he snapped a photo of your outfit and sent it to what he’d started referring to as the ‘Sexy’ group chat. You knew it wasn’t actually a comment on you or any of the guys, just that that was the chat where you were all blunt with each other and sometimes used it to send sex photos and videos to each other. Like the picture Hyunjin had sent of Changbin’s blissed out smile with his chest and abs covered in bites and hickeys from him and Felix.

“What?”

“Nothing, baby. You look good, as always. Just…. I feel like Seungmin’s gonna have a similar reaction to Felix’s reaction, that’s all.”

“That’s kinda the point, babe.”

“And if it rains?” he asked, glancing out your kitchen window where you could see rain clouds gathering.

“It’s supposed to stay clear for the next few hours. And we have VIP seating, so we won’t get rained on anyway.” You smirked, knowing exactly why he was concerned about the rain, but not directly addressing it. “Seungmin!” You turned toward your door when you heard knocking. “Hey,” you greeted him with a smile after opening the door.

“He –” he stopped for a second, just staring. Then cleared his throat and shook himself a little. “Hey. Uh, you ready to go?”

“Yep.” Smiling, you grabbed your purse, made sure your phone was in it, slipped on a pair of flats, and headed out. The shirt you were wearing was on the thin side and tight, to say the least. So much so, that you could easily see the imprint of the lace of your bra.

You didn’t know much about baseball, having never really been a fan. It wasn’t that you didn’t like it, you supposed, you’d just never really had a chance or reason to get into it. Sitting beside Seungmin however, you were starting to understand people’s love for the game. Or, his love for it at least. He patiently answered every question you asked, going into detail for you when you asked. And you got to watch the way he lit up as he explained things or the excitement when his team was doing good.

It started thundering as you left the stadium. You crossed your fingers, quietly hoping it timed out well and you would get caught in the rain. It was, after all, part of the reason you wore the shirt you did. Less than 10 feet from the back of Seungmin’s car, the sky opened and drenched everything. Laughing, you spread your arms and spun in a circle, face up.

“Y/N!” You turned to Seungmin, who was staring at you with wide eyes through the downpour.

“Minnie?” You played dumb, acting like you had no idea why he’d be looking at you like that.

“Get in the car!”

“But – the rain. I wanna play.” It wasn’t uncommon for you to be out in what you called warm rain. Or summer rain, where it wasn’t cold enough for the rain to make you cold. More than once, when they were around, Felix, Jisung, Hyunjin, and sometimes some of the others, would join you.

“Play later, car now.” You pouted to hide your grin and got into the passenger seat of his car.

“But why?” You asked when he didn’t say more after you got in. He didn’t answer right away, focusing on getting the pair of you on the road.

Seungmin avoided looking directly at you as he maneuvered the stadium traffic and got onto a less traveled road to avoid more traffic. Not that he didn’t look at you at all. You kept catching him looking at you from the corner of his eye, hands gripping the steering wheel so his knuckles turned white. You tried, hopefully successfully, to hide your pleased smile.

“I had fun, Minnie,” you attempted to break the silence that had fallen. “Thanks for explaining everything to me.”

“Mm-hm. You’re welcome.”

“Everything okay?” you asked, trying to sound concerned and not gleeful.

“Mm. Look at your shirt.”

“Oh! Oh, no playing in the rain.” From what anyone had been able to see through your shirt before, you would understand if they thought your bra was just decorated with lace. But now that the rain had soaked it and it was almost completely sheer, Seungmin could see that it wasn’t decorated with lace, but was only lace leaving you basically completely exposed. “Oops.” You made absolutely no move to try to cover yourself.

Before he could say anything, his phone rang through the Bluetooth speaker. “Old Man is calling.”

“You do not have him saved as Old Man!” You giggled as he answered the call.

“Having a good time, I take it?” Chan asked, obviously hearing your laughter.

“Yes, we are!” you answered.

“Seung, did she get caught in the rain?”

“Yeah. Why would…?”

“Ask her why she wore that shirt.”

“I didn’t plan to get caught in the rain. You can’t plan rain! I wore it just in case, which is completely different.” You tried justifying your decision.

“Mm-hm.” You could practically see Chan’s grin. You playfully glared at the Bluetooth screen, knowing he couldn’t see you but feeling the need to do it anyway.

Beside you, Seungmin stopped the car at a red light. You looked over to find him openly staring at you now. Curious, you waited to see what he would do. Deliberately, he reached over and brushed your nipple with the knuckles of his first two fingers. With a small gasp, you arched forward a little, trying to press against his fingers that hovered right over you. He smirked and pinched your nipple between those two knuckles, pulling a moan from you.

Chan made an inquisitive noise over the phone. “Baby girl?”

“He’s playing with my nipple,” you answered on a gasp as he took the opportunity to gently tug and roll the nipple he had between his knuckles.

“Her nipples are very sensitive,” Seungmin commented softly.

Chan chuckled. “You two have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow. Oh, and take some good photos for me, yeah?”

Seungmin raised an eyebrow at you as Chan hung up. “He likes photos. Videos too, actually. So does Hyune. Well, they all do, but those two especially.”

“Mm,” he hummed, glancing at the traffic light then switching his attention to your other nipple. The light turned green and he pulled away, smirking at your whimper.

That continued at the next red light and the one after that, reaching over to fondle your boobs, then pulling away. You knew, logically, he had to drive. But your body did not care about logic. Then you reached the last red light before pulling into his and Felix’s apartment building. This light always took so long, something you usually complained about. You were surprised when Seungmin threw the car in park, having assumed you were in for a longer teasing session. Instead, he unbuckled himself and leaned across the center console.

Bracing himself with one hand, he brought the other up to cup your boob, leaned in, and sucked your nipple into his mouth through your wet shirt. On a long moan, you brought your hand up to tangle your fingers in his hair. He gently bit your nipple as he pulled just far enough away to switch sides. You squeezed your thighs together, trying to give yourself some friction and the movement was not lost on Seungmin – you felt him smirk against you.

After another moment, he pulled away completely, buckled himself back in, put the car back in gear, and looked for all the world like he was patiently waiting for the light to change and not like he’d just had your tits in his mouth. You whined, wiggling in your seat and he just laughed at you. Your movement made you realize just how wet you were – your panties were ruined for sure.

Soon enough, you’d pulled into his building’s parking lot and he parked the car. The trip from the car to the actual building was mostly covered, but there was a short part that was open. You lingered there for a moment, genuinely enjoying the rain, but also to resoak your shirt. Just because. Seungmin tugged your hand, pulling you behind him to the, thankfully, deserted lobby and then elevator. He and Felix lived in one of the uppermost floors, so you figured you’d settle in to wait.

Seungmin had other ideas. He stepped up behind you, pressing himself against your back where you could feel his cock pressing into you. He wordlessly handed you his phone, camera opened on selfie mode, then wrapped his arms around you, bringing his hands up to caress the sides of your boobs. You sighed with pleasure, leaning into him and letting your head tip back against him. He quickly switched from gentle caresses to teasing your nipples through your clothes again.

“Take a picture, Y/nnie. The old man said he wanted some, right?” You did as Seungmin instructed, snapping a photo of you with your head back against his shoulder, eyes partly closed in pleasure, Seungmin pinching both nipples while he looked at the camera through his eyebrows, a mischievous smile that you didn’t see, playing on his lips.

He took the phone back from you, quickly sending the photo to Chan. Then he spun you around and crowded you against the wall of the elevator, before leaning in to claim your lips in what started as a sweet kiss. The kiss quickly became heated, Seungmin tilting your head and sliding his tongue between your lips. You moaned into his mouth, clutching his shirt in your hand as you felt his hand slide up your thigh, under your skirt, and brush against your clothed cunt.

He chuckled against your lips. “All this from a little teasing?” You whimpered as he pressed the heel of his hand against your clit. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties, tugging them down far enough that you were able to step out of them. Then he bent down, picked them up, and stuffed them in his pocket. The elevator dinged, arriving at his floor, as he stood back up. He let you walk ahead of him down the short hall to his and Felix’s apartment, wrapping his arms around you and covering your boobs with his hands. “For your modesty, in case the neighbors come out.” The way he was groping you said otherwise, but you didn’t protest.

Getting down the hall was a little slow with the way he was holding onto you and being pressed against his chest. With every movement, you could feel his cock rubbing against you. And yeah, maybe you had soaked your panties from ‘a little teasing’, but he was hard as a rock and you hadn’t even touched him. And hey, he was groping your boobs the whole way down the hall, so pressing against his dick with every move you possibly could was absolutely fair as far as you were concerned.

Finally in the apartment, he spun you around again, pressing you against the back of the couch and practically attacking your mouth. You’d have grinned if you’d been able to, pleased you got him to let go of the, so far, methodical teasing. One hand dipped behind you and it felt like he grabbed something off the couch. He pulled away from you, holding one of the throw pillows that came with the couch. He stepped back and dropped the pillow onto the floor, grabbing his phone out of his pocket as he did. With just a look, you understood exactly what he wanted and were all too pleased to give it.

You dropped to your knees on the pillow and reached for the button and zip of his jeans. With quick movements, you tugged down his jeans and boxers, freeing his cock. You glanced up at him as you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, stroking a couple of times. You held eye contact as you leaned in and licked a stripe up the underside of him, pleased with the huff of air that escaped him as he watched you. You wrapped your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue over him and tasting the precum that leaked out of him. Then you looked down, and focused on your goal – making him lose that composure that had been taunting you for nearly an hour.

He wasn’t as big as Chan and you’d had plenty of practice at deep throating your boyfriend, so it was comparatively easy for you to take all of Seungmin. You quickly sank down on his cock, pressing your nose into his pubes and swallowing around his head.

“Oh God,” he groaned out above you, reaching down to tangle a hand in your hair. Pleased with yourself, you set a steady rhythm, pulling back until only his head was in your mouth, then bobbing down to take all of him in again. After just a minute or two, the grip in your hair tightened and he held your head still. Pulling out of your mouth, he looked down at you. “Okay?” he asked, rolling his hips so his tip slid past your lips just enough for you to understand what he was asking.

In response, you just dropped your jaw. He groaned and thrust into your waiting mouth. Blissed out, loving the feeling of your mouth being fucked, you closed your eyes and didn’t notice when Seungmin snapped a couple of photos to send to Chan. Nor did you really notice that you’d subconsciously spread your knees to sink further against the pillow under you. But you did feel when your wet core made contact with the material. You moaned around Seungmin, rolling your hips against the pillow. It was frustratingly little friction.

You brought a hand down between your legs and Seungmin stopped thrusting, pulling out of your mouth. You whined your protest, eyes snapping open. “Hands,” he said, taking his own hand out of your hair. You lifted your hands and he put one on each of his own hips. “Keep them there.” You whimpered as you understood you’d be getting no friction except the pillow. With a smirk, he buried his hand back in your hair and his cock back in your mouth.

Your hips rolled of their own volitation against the pillow, timed with his thrusts in your mouth. This time, you were looking up at him when he took a photo.

“You look so good, Y/nnie,” he looked in control still, but Seungmin’s beautiful voice was breathy. “I can’t believe Chan’s willing to share you with the way you look.” You moaned around his cock as you managed to hit your clit perfectly on the pillow. You could feel your orgasm building when he said, “Almost. Can I cum in your mouth, Y/nnie?” You moan again, being the only sound you could make to agree. “Don’t swallow right away, okay? Show me.”

After a few more thrusts, he pulled part of the way out and shot his load into your mouth. As soon as he pulled free, you did as he said, opening your mouth to show him his cum pooled on your tongue. He pressed a foot against your hip, stopping your movement, causing you to whine low in your throat. He just chuckled as he snapped a photo. “Swallow.” The way the word lifted up at the end almost made it sound like a request, but you knew it wasn’t. “Good girl.” You shivered at the praise. He grabbed your hands that were still on his hips and helped you to your feet.

You stood on shaky legs and had to lean into him as the pair of you walked to his room, letting him support at least part of your weight.

“You almost came on that pillow, didn’t you?” he asked, opening his bedroom door.

“Mm-hm,” you admitted. Had you been looking at him, you may have been concerned about the grin that flashed across his face at your admission.

Seungmin had you caged under him on his bed, pressing kisses to your neck, down over your collar bones, across the tops of your boobs and the valley between them. You had a tight grip on one of his shoulders, your other hand fisted into the sheets beside you, as he thrust two fingers into your pussy, his thumb pressed against your clit.

He was watching your face from the corner of his eye as his fingers sped up and he crooked them up in a ‘come here’ movement. Still riled up from the just-barely-enough friction of the throw pillow, it didn’t take long for the coil in your belly to start tightening again. You could feel yourself getting closer, rolling your hips against Seungmin’s hand.

“Ah, God. So close,” you moaned out, clenching around his fingers. Just as your orgasm started to crest over you, Seungmin quickly pulled his fingers out of you. “No,” you whined. “Minnie!”

“I was thinking about it in the car, actually,” he said casually, bringing his hand up to gently caress your belly. “I know you have Chan wrapped around every one of your fingers. I’d bet all you have to do is bat your pretty eyes at Felix and probably Hyunjin and they’ll give you whatever you want. I want to think Iyen-ah has more will to resist caving to you, but I’m sure Changbin doesn’t.” He sighed, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “You’re spoiled, aren’t you, pretty girl? All these men at your beck and call, ready to do whatever you want.”

You whined as he started kissing down your torso, kissing over your belly, then making himself comfortable between your thighs. He wrapped his arms around your thighs, keeping them spread open for himself and pressed kisses to your inner thighs, alternating sides. He sucked a bruise high on your thigh before pressing a kiss to your wet folds. He flattened his tongue against you, licking a thick stripe up, and flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue when he reached it.

He focused on your cunt, methodical, like he’d been when he’d been teasing you in the car. He kept changing what he was doing just enough that your pleasure would build, but you weren’t getting close to coming. He’d gently suck on your clit, pressing the tip of his tongue to the bundle of nerves. Then he’d move back to licking at your folds without actually penetrating you. He’d move away to kiss your thighs or lower belly for a brief moment, then dip back down again and shove his tongue into you.

Then he changed tactic and actually focused on getting you to cum. He buried his face into you, eating you out like a man starved. Your thighs started to quiver over his shoulders, pussy clenching against his tongue.

He pulled away. You kicked your legs, as much as you could, in frustration at being denied again. “Seungmin! If you don’t let me cum, I swear I’ll get up out of this bed and call anyone else to come take care of me.”

“No you won’t,” he said confidently. You groaned, slamming your head back against the pillow because you knew he was right. You wanted to cum, of course you did, but you wanted Seungmin. You huffed, annoyed, as he laughed. He came up to your eye level, pressing light, teasing kisses to your cheeks. “How about this – I promise you’ll cum before I do.”

You reached up and grabbed his face between both of your hands. “I’ll hold you to that,” you tried to sound stern but the smile on his face told you it didn’t work at all. With another huff, you tilted his face so you could properly claim his lips again. You wrapped your arms over his shoulders and let yourself get lost in the feeling of his mouth on yours.

You felt him shift above you and then you felt the tip of his cock pressing against your folds. In one smooth, steady motion, he pushed into you, bottoming out immediately. You moaned into his mouth, fingers digging into his back. He broke away from your kiss with a small, pleased smile on his face. He readjusted his hold on your hips as he steadily started thrusting into you. Then he stilled, reaching behind himself.

“Forgot about the old man’s request,” he explained, holding up his phone. You scowled at him, but he wasn’t taking a picture of your face, instead focusing the camera lens on his cock buried in your pussy.

He leaned up, setting the phone on the bedside table. Then he leaned back again, pulled out most of the way, and snapped his hips forward. You gasped out, a little shocked as it was the roughest he’d been since you got to his room. He set a fast pace, pistoning into you as you lifted a leg to wrap over his hip. You could feel your orgasm approaching again, and fast. You tried to downplay it, tried to keep your moans from getting too high pitched. But you couldn’t control the way your walls fluttered around his cock.

Seungmin chuckled when he pulled out, denying you again. He lifted the leg that you’d wrapped over his hip, pressing a kiss to your knee as he used that leg to twist your lower body so both of your legs were bent and on one side of his body.

“Okay?” he asked.

“No! I wanna cum,” you whined.

He chuckled. “I meant, are you okay here? Not uncomfortable or anything?”

“I’m okay,” you agreed, still scowling and feeling petulant.

“Good,” he smiled, leaning over you and sliding back into you.

You wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down to kiss you again. As he started to thrust faster, he kept his eyes locked on your face. You weren’t sure why exactly, but something in his expression made you realize that he’d not looked away from you since you got into his apartment, with the very brief exception of when he was taking off both of your shirts. He hadn’t even closed his eyes that you were aware of. Like he needed to see your face the whole time.

The thought of that brought your orgasm just a little closer and had you clenching around him again. This time, he reached down, lifting your leg just enough that he could slide his other hand between them. Quickly, he found your clit, flicking it with the pad of his thumb in time with his thrusts. You were wary as you felt your orgasm building yet again, but this time, he didn’t stop.

You tossed your head back against the pillow, nearly screaming as you felt your orgasm crash through you, felt yourself gush around his cock. After just a few more thrusts, he stilled, coming deep inside you.

After a moment to catch your breath, he straightened your legs, bringing your one leg back to the opposite side of his body so you were laying splayed out on his bed again.

Seungmin reached over to grab his phone where’d he’d put it on his bedside table. You blew a kiss at the phone as he snapped a photo of you lying in his bed, his cum dribbling out of you. After sending it, he leaned back up to kiss you. After a moment, he broke away.

“Lemme get something to get you cleaned up, then cuddles. If you want.”

“That sounds great,” you agreed.

“I could do it.” You both looked over to Seungmin’s door to see Felix standing there, staring at you. “Clean you up, I mean. Please?” He sounded breathy, desperate almost. You wondered how long he’d been home. Seungmin turned from him to look back at you with a shrug that said, ‘sure, if you wanna’.

“Come here, Lixie,” you held a hand out to him, beckoning him closer. The smile that split his face reminded you of a kid in a candy store being told he could have anything he wanted. He wasted absolutely no time in crawling onto the bed between your legs. You giggled when he sprawled partly on Seungmin rather than waiting for the other man to move.

Felix put his hands on the inside of your thighs, pressing down lightly to keep them apart. He leaned in, first licking up Seungmin’s cum that had already dripped out of you.

Seungmin, meanwhile, got out from under Felix and sat up beside your head, reaching for his phone again. This time, rather than taking a picture, he started recording a video. You threw your head back, tangling your fingers in his hair as Felix buried his tongue in your cunt. The slurping sounds coming from him were enough to have you clenching around his tongue.

“Ah – Lix, you like that?” you panted out, after seeing that Seungmin was videoing.

“Mm-hm,” he nodded against you, not taking his tongue out of you.

“Does Minnie’s cum taste good in my pussy?”

“So good,” he moaned, the sound slightly muffled and vibrating against you. You carded your fingers into his hair, holding him against you. Not that he needed the encouragement to not move, you knew he’d happily stay with his mouth between your thighs until someone pulled him away.

So you were surprised when he did pull away from you. He crawled up your body and pressed his lips to yours. With no hesitation, he pressed the tip of his tongue to your lips and you parted them. You groaned out, fingers tightening in his hair, when you tasted the mix of yours and Seungmin’s cum that Felix pushed into your mouth on his tongue. You sucked on his tongue, swallowing back everything he’d brought up to you.

After a moment, Felix pulled back and gave you an angelic smile completely at odds with what he’d just done. Then he dropped back down to your pussy. His actions were far more purposeful now and you decided he had to have been home for a while as he was absolutely trying to get you off as quickly as possible. He, not that long ago, spent an hour lazily eating you out and knew exactly the kind of movements and pressure that would build you up quickly. He focused on your clit with his lips and tongue, sliding two fingers into your pussy and thrusting steadily.

Beside you, Seungmin just watched. “You really are spoiled, aren’t you?”

“Mm-hm,” you moaned out.

“Lucky us, getting to be the ones who spoil you.” You managed a smile up at him. He wrapped a hand around the back of your neck, lifting you up slightly so he could lean down to claim your lips. You tried to kiss him, but it felt like you mostly moaned against his lips, not that he seemed to mind.

Felix chose that time to crook his fingers, rubbing against your g spot, and suck harshly on your clit. Your hips arched off the bed, pressing into his face as your orgasm washed through you. He paused his actions, looking up at you then flicking his eyes to Seungmin.

After a moment, you’d caught your breath and said, “Minnie, I think Lix wants you to fuck him.”

A short while later, you sat on Felix’s abs and watched his face as Seungmin pushed into him. He gripped your thighs, fingers digging in enough to leave bruises, eyes rolling back on a deep groan. You leaned forward, almost laying on his chest, and peppered kisses along his jaw while he took several deep breaths, adjusting to the stretch he was feeling.

Had you thought about the position you were in, maybe you wouldn’t have been surprised. As it was, you squealed in surprised when, without warning, Seungmin thrust two fingers into you. You heard him chuckle behind you but couldn’t find the space in your mind to care right then. He thrust his fingers into you a few times before pulling out, causing you to whine.

“Well, do something about it yourself then,” he teased.

You turned to glare at him, but realized he was completely right. You sat up and scooted back, then lifted your hips, gripped Felix’s cock and sank down on him in one smooth motion. You smiled down at him as you felt his hips kick up.

Behind you, Seungmin started slowly thrusting his hips, pulling little moans from the man under you. For a moment, you were content to just watch Felix’s expressive face. Then his hips bucked up into you. “Y/nnie,” he whined.

You rolled your hips, slowly at first, matching Seungmin’s rhythm as best you could. When he picked up his speed, so did you. You loved watching Felix fall apart under you and imagined the others felt the same way about you.

Seungmin reached around you with both hands, latching onto your boobs again. He alternated rolling and pinching your nipples and you had just enough presence of mind to wonder that he was able to play with you while thrusting into Felix.

“’M close,” Felix gasped out under you, running one hand up your thigh to press his thumb to your clit. He rubbed circles against the bundle of nerves, applying just the right amount of pressure. Between all three sets of stimulation, you were coming undone quickly. As you felt your orgasm building, you were losing your rhythm on Felix, but neither of you cared. It wasn’t until Seungmin leaned forward and harshly sucked on the spot where your neck and shoulder met that you felt that coil snap and you came, clenching around Felix.

With a deep groan, he followed you, filling you with his warmth.

You dropped forward, laying on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you as, behind you, Seungmin started thrusting harder, chasing his own orgasm. You rocked against Felix’s body with every thrust from Seungmin, letting out little moans at the way Felix’s softening cock kept moving in you. After a few moments, Seungmin stilled and you felt more than heard Felix’s moan as he came inside him.

Seungmin draped himself over your back, reaching around you to grip Felix’s side. You had the fleeting thought that you all should clean up, or at least move, but decided you weren’t going to be the one to break up this cuddle. Not with the way Seungmin nuzzled his nose into the side of your neck.

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Taglist: @skzficpriv @strayk1ds143 @vegetablesarefuntables  @imagine-all-the-imagines  @yeetmylifeu  @wolfo2027  @vampkennedy

[thatbugkidd]

TW for my delusions (and slight artistic nudity/suggestiveness, nothing serious)

The girls are being soft

So like i said, their relationship gets interesting!

Lucky for everyone, I'm a multishipper!! So we can all pretend there's like multiple timelines in this au where everyone gets their smooches and we can all be delusional, but I like this one in particular for this au bc I just feel like there's a lot of potential for their interactions

Anywayz, I'm a real big sucker for the 'healing from the emotional trauma of scars' trope, these scars in particular being from where her tentacles sprouted from her back.