#watching the hole in the ground and its like

[silaslich]

The remorse you can’t hide

Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader

Wc- 2.8k

Summary - you’re injured while on duty, Ghost stitches you up- he’s softer than he looks.

Cw- blood+injury

Pain sears through every nerve ending.

A burning white agony blinding you, shooting up your spine as you collide with the concrete.

You sit and clutch at yourself, the pain is everywhere, you search for blood- for any sign of injury.

Your palms clap against the concrete as you move to push yourself up, there’s an urge to run as far as you can from here, but your legs give way beneath you. It burns, hurts like nothing ever has before, and then your eyes land on the blooming crimson that leaks through a hole in your jeans- through a hole in your thigh. You press your hand to the wound quickly, blood seeping through the seams of your fingers as your eyes search the area, you’re wide open to attack and there’s no escape.

It takes more effort then you’ll ever be willing to admit, but you shuffle yourself backwards, crying in pain as you drag your bloodied leg with you, it’s through clenched teeth that you scream- it all hurts too much. You apply both of your hands to the wound now, the blood flows quickly, you’re losing too much of it- and it’s when theres the sound of boots hitting the ground beside you that you accept your fate.

Only- the end doesn’t come, instead opposing gunfire rings out, deafening you from how close it all is.

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for any impact, any stray bullets that lodge themselves into your skin and flesh. In turn you hold your breath, as if it’ll filter out the sounds of warfare, the sounds of bloodcurdling cries and the raining of bullet shells. You want to shrink away, to disappear into the rubble and stone, swallowed into the depths of the broken city until you sink to its foundations.

It’s instinct the way you lash out at foreign contact. Years of wading through decimated towns riddled with ghosts and levelled cities that still don’t sleep doesn’t serve a person to grow complacent; it’s life and death, even now. Fighting for a cause, supposedly there to help, still watching over your shoulder for the knife that looms close.

You watch as you smear your blood down his chest, palms pushed against him to keep him at bay- Ghost doesn’t flinch.

“Calm down” his voice cracks through you, a sobering tone that has you snapping your gaze to meet his.

He’s pulling you up, tugging at you so you’re forced to a shaky stand. It’s not a cognitive thought when you cling to him, injured leg giving way beneath you, he snaps his neck down and watches as the blood oozes from the bullet wound in your thigh.

“Shit” he spits, quick eyes searching for an exit opportunity.

“Come on” his voice doesn’t soften, there’s a haste in his voice that tells you they’re not sticking around for this fight.

Ghost takes your arm and loops it over his shoulder, taking the majority if not all of your weight, keeping you propped up. His other arm clutches around your waist, rooting you to his side, flushed tight as he begins to move. You cry out, the pain too great, it’s blinding, it feels like your leg is being burned where you stand- branded with hot iron.

He doesn’t slow, the torrent of bullets doesn’t either, he moves efficiently through the rubble and chaos of the crumbling city. It’s nothing but a shell now, a phantom of what it once was, there is no viable life left here now.

—————————————————————————

The clock sitting atop the desk strikes on the hour and you sit idly, perched on an examination table as you pick at the dried blood that’s caked to your hands and stuck under your fingernails- you hadn’t had a chance to wash it off yet.

It takes your mind off the wound in your leg, stuffed with gauze and hastily taped together to stop it worsening. It’s been barely an hour since you arrived back at camp, the mood is low and the morale is even more so, it’s deafening. As if the air has been sucked out of the surrounding atmosphere, every tent and outpost draped in a blanket of solemn defeat. Everything had been so blurry, so quick, it took all of you by surprise, and despite the odds- coming away with little more then a hole in your leg seems good enough.

You hear footsteps, they’re too distinctive to miss, big fella like him makes it known around camp, there’s no need for his stealth here. You try to keep yourself level, the injury is nothing, it hurts more seeing how close of a call this was. How truly unprepared you had been, and so ready to give up, it’s shameful, you think.

Simon’s hand draws back the flap of the tent, not Ghost, Simon. He seems so at ease given the losses he’s suffered in the short span of a few hours, you remind yourself that this isn’t new to him, neither you- but they’re not your soldiers. They’re his.

He steps into the medical tent, taking up the majority of the free space, wide shoulders and long legs that carry him into battle, you think he would have been a Viking in another life. Tall and wide and unmoving. Unyielding in his faith and beliefs.

The outer layer of his gear is gone, you dare say he’s casual, the only visible weapon you see is the gun strapped to his thigh, key word- visible.

“Everythin’ okay?” He asks, smoothly, stepping over to the desk sitting to the left of the tent entrance.

He glances at you briefly, pulling two disposable gloves from their box and fixing them onto his hands, flexing his fingers before he moves closer to you.

You could lie to him, bark out a yes sir and move on, but you know better than that. He sees right through you, like he does with most people, he’s much too sharp to be fooled by such bullshit. You smile, faintly.

“Been better, sir” you say quickly, fiddling with your fingers.

He nods, loading up a metal tray with supplies from a small cabinet beside the exam table.

“If I had a pound for every soldier that said that today, I’d have about three quid by now” he huffs, something that could be a laugh if you listened closely enough.

You blow air through your nose, nearly a laugh.

“Gaz and Soap, sir?” You ask, eyes watching Simon’s hands move.

“You know it” he answers, smiling, you think- it sounds that way.

This is comfortable. As much as it can be. Simon is definitely one of the few superiors you’ve had since joining up that actually gives a shit, he sees you as a real person. Something solid, tangible, with thoughts and likes and memories. He asks about food preferences and he pretends to understand a love for certain holidays, he rates music tastes and has inside jokes with near enough everyone in his platoon.

He’s kinder then he knows, than he’ll ever admit, being here like this- now, he can’t pretend that he’s obligated to do this.

He’d told you to wait for him in the medical tent, when you arrived back from that shit-show of an ambush, a stern hand between your shoulder blades guiding you in that direction.

“Wait for me, won’t be long” his voice was tired, but truly? You thought he might even be gentle, not that he thought you needed that - but because he’s capable.

You had limped away, following orders, peeling away your blood soaked jeans and sitting yourself on the table - feeling sorry for yourself. Staring at the wound, he’d packed and taped it on the transport, stemmed the blood until he could tend to it properly.

You’d pursed your lips, tracing your fingers over the tape covering the bullet wound, thinking about him. You turn him over in your mind more often than you should, he’s just so- strange. You can’t tell exactly what it is, and that’s the frustrating part, he gives nothing away and yet gives so much freely. Trivial bits and pieces of things that don’t seem as though they fit together; he likes traditional pub food and he listens to 80s rock, he prefers dogs to cats and he doesn’t care much for hot weather- ironic.

It’s nothing, small crumbs that he probably thinks mean nothing, but those things make him human. They personify him in a way he actively tries to avoid, his past and memories are nil, locked away and buried deep. Yet, he still gives a shit, he still cares enough to ask how his soldiers feel and wants to know what they’re looking forward to when they get home. He’s a good man.

No matter how much he’ll tell you he isn’t.

Simon gives it about ten seconds before he mutters under his breath and pulls the chair out from under the desk and props it in front of you, slumping down into it to continue his work. Crouching awkwardly due to his size was giving him a crick in his neck.

He sterilises the wound after removing the tape and gauze, you almost bite through your tongue with the sting, but it’s bearable.

“Alrate?” He queries, stilling when you suck in air through your teeth, you nod quickly.

“Just a bit sore, Lt”. He stares at you for a second too long before he nods, moving to thread up his needle.

Just when you think you’re nearing the finish line, he clears his throat.

“So, what happened out there?” He’s bordering that line of wether or not this is a question your obligated to answer or not, you want to tell him nothing, everything is fine and dandy, but you know he won’t buy it.

You sigh, bringing up your hand to cup the back of your neck.

“Honestly?” You ask, he might shrug and tell you he’s just trying to make conversation, he doesn’t - he nods curtly. You wet your lips with your tongue.

“Everything just went a bit- blank for a second” you wince when he begins setting the stitches, it’s a deep pinch that makes your stomach dip lowly, he doesn’t stop, he listens closely.

You can tell by the hardness in his eyes, he’s concentrating on your words as he works, you continue.

“Never had that happen before, feel like I blinked and then I’m on the floor in a pool of blood with a hole in my leg” you smile sheepishly and you nod toward said wound, Simon nods along. He thinks for a second.

“You need a break?” He asks, genuinely, his hands stop and he meets your eyes.

It catches you off guard, such a simple solution to a meaningless problem. You tilt your head.

“Like- taking home leave?” He simply nods, as if it’s just that easy, while the thought is nice, you can’t just leave them all here like this - not off the back of what’s just happened. You shake your head.

“It’s all good sir, think I’d go mad sitting at home knowing you’re all still stuck in this shit-hole” you laugh, drily. He huffs again, that almost laugh.

“Got to look after your head, you only get one” he reaches up with a free hand, pressing his index and middle finger against your temple. “No shame in taking some time out, y’know” he insists, letting his fingers linger for another second before moving them away, the skin is cold now. He returns to your wound, finishing off the stitches, “wouldn’t think any less of you for it” he flicks his eyes to yours.

He’s so expressive for someone that covers his face, the way his eyes and brows tell so much without seeing the rest of him. They give him away, in moments like this when you’re so close to him, so close you can see your reflection in the soft walnut-brown of his irises. You smile, meekly.

“I know” you say, nodding your head in understanding.

It���s quiet for a few moments, he cleans down the wound site and disposes of his tools, taking a final once over of his work with a long drawn out glance. You feel brave, in this setting with him, it seems safe.

“Do you ever take any time out, sir?” You ask, genuinely curious, he meets your eyes. Simon shakes his head.

“No need to” he shrugs, “and you can drop the sir thing, we’re off duty” you think you see the lines on his forehead soften through the mask. You smirk.

“Thought we were never off duty?” Catching him out, as per usual, his laugh is an actual laugh this time.

“Watch your mouth, yeah?” He closes his eyes when he shakes his head, “anyone might think you’ve actually been listening to me this entire deployment”. You smile.

“Don’t listen to a word that comes from under that mask” the mask is a subject that gets poked at him day in and day out, it’s a harmless jab nowadays. He challenges you.

“That so?” He asks and you nod quickly.

“Yep, doesn’t mean a thing unless I can read your lips clearly” you flash your teeth at him and he just keeps shaking his head.

“You up for a smoke?” He backs off, standing up to replace the chair back to its rightful place, but he still lingers close. You consider him for all of a split second.

“Why not, might take my mind of this fuckin’ leg” you gingerly set yourself down from the table, leaning against it for some extra stability.

Wordlessly, he offers you the crook of his elbow, but he can’t meet your eye.

Time passes and the two of you shuffle across the camp to an area of undergrowth and dense forest, a clear tree line that peers down the ridge you’re all holed-up on.

There’s a damp log that the two of you perch on, Simon offers you a cigarette and even lights it for you, thanking him with a nod you take a heavy drag, and it’s just as good as you were hoping. You watch him light his own cigarette through your peripherals, rolling up the mask with his thumb and cupping his hand around his smoke before he lights it.

In the dim light you can see the line of his jaw, you can see the way his lips wrap around the cigarette and the shadow of stubble on his skin. You don’t realise how much you’re looking until you’re caught out.

“I need a shave or somethin’?” his gruff tone cuts through the tranquil silence.

“Sorry” you say, kicking yourself mentally as you take drag after heavy drag of your cigarette. When you spare another quick glance, he’s smirking to himself.

“It’s not that big of a deal” he says, catching your eyes. You frown and he continues, “a face is just a face” he shrugs, “you see em’ all the time”.

He’s not wrong, but it’s not his face, it’s the inquisitiveness, the images you’ve conjured in your mind of what he might look like. Fitting jigsaws pieces around the molasses colour of his eyes and the deep scar that cuts through one brow, wondering what features fit where.

“Can’t blame me for being curious” you shrug, you’re being open, this seems content enough. He quirks his lips.

“I suppose” he finishes his cigarette, immediately fishing out another one.

Silence falls, and you can’t say it’s uncomfortable, it’s a nice change. Not just from today but from the usual barrage of noise and commotion - good and bad.

You finish your own cigarette, feeling too greedy to ask for another, wordlessly Simon offers you a drag on his own. It must be his last one, it must be. It’s nice like this, listening to the buzz of cicadas and the fluid breeze that blows through the trees, this is the only break you need.

It’s unclear where the line blurs, the nicotine thickening your blood to soup, the way your eyes droop and you shoulders sag. You’re tucked close to Simon’s side, and he doesn’t push you away, it’s comfortable.

He nudges you slightly, squeezes his hand over your thigh, the non-injured one. You stiffen, maybe you’ve overstepped, fallen a little too easily into the waiting arms of a man that is here to serve as a point of contact - tactical not literal.

“You mean what you said about the lip reading?” He asks, eyes watching the trees, you tilt your head as you try to think.

“What are you on about?” You ask, genuinely more than confused, he still hasn’t moved his hand from your thigh.

[qin-qin16]

cw: Nightmare is here, this is not a sans ship in any sense, character death, graphic violence (?), Killer’s resets, toxic interactions, evil writing come back >:3

note: Since this is quite Nightmare's vision, Killer is refered as "it".

The black appendage ricocheted through the air, sending a meager trace of the persistent fluid crashing to the ground, some still glued to their tentacle — slowly being absorbed, blending into their sticky mass of tar.

“It's fascinatingly annoying how you always manage to disappoint me,” Nightmare declares, their tongue clicking against the roof of their mouth when no answer comes, “Let me rephrase that: it's frustrating how predictable you are in disappointing me, yet curious how you do it — always managing to surprise me.”

Their turquoise orb slid down the body of their sole servant, a faint malicious gleam appearing in their gaze as the red ring pulsed weakly against the tattered rags it wore — the light it emitted growing fainter as thin cracks emerging from the core of Killer's hybrid soul.

"It’s a shame; a waste of time and effort." Nightmare sighed deeply, before turning their attention to no particular spot in the room; any detail of the space they were in was more interesting — and worthy — of their focus than the body lying at their feet.

The armchair, free of any scratches or dust; the gleaming bookshelf, filled with hardcover books — each with its title displayed on the spine; the clean rug, no stain marking its surface; even the lone window — exposed at the far end of the room, long and with dark glass — was more fascinating to observe than Killer's worn-out body.

A filthy, tattered rag with no dignity left.

Their tentacles trembled slightly; even as a walking dead creature, Killer never ceased to surprise them, making Nightmare hesitate before the skeleton lying on the floor. It was as if every movement of Nightmare's was being watched by those two deep holes, devoid of any gleaming pupils.

"I'm sure the next one will be more competent, more... loyal to my principles." That was their last utterance before finishing the job. A single ricochet of the appendage, and Killer's soul shattered into countless fragments, taking with it the faint light that remained in the room.

It didn’t even let out a final sigh; its bones discarded at their feet had long since surrendered, the spasms from the brief struggle stopping the moment the first cut was made. Not even its pleas for mercy brought Nightmare any pleasure this time — a true waste of time.

Their orb rolls across their face, searching for another temporary distraction before they have to go out and pick up another stray again. 

A soft jingle echoes, like a dead whisper inside their skull — a strange, morbid echo. Quickly, Nightmare’s eyeball shifts to the body in front of them, or rather, to the void it left behind. Not even dust remained, just a dull puddle — the last trace of his determination, the only reminder that, moments ago, Killer had been dead at their feet.

Knocks at the door make Nightmare falter for a moment, their body stiffening, appendages rising and positioning themselves in front of them for a brief instant — shielding their body from whatever lay behind the door not far from them. They knew who it was; they had caught a glimpse of the faint golden star just minutes before both had passed through that door.

Without so much as asking for permission, that thing slowly opens the door, a sound of wood scraping against the floor gnawing at Nightmare’s mind, now unable to tear their attention away from the figure, who gradually revealed itself with the weak, familiar red light — illuminating not only its old clothes but the short path between it and Nightmare.

"Greetings, boss," Killer grins widely, its mouth fixed in a black, toothless curve on its face, the eye sockets even deeper than before. "If I may say, I can still be quite useful to you." The soul before it trembles, struggling to form a single shape.

"You just need to let me show you."

@howlsofbloodhounds @what-have-i-unleashed @justanidiotartist

[dandelions-143]

Obsession 4

Part 1 , Part 2, & Part 3

Minho Masterlist

All Member Masterlist

Word count: 6908

Warnings: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, Sexual content and explicit scenes, Violence and physical aggression, References to criminal organizations, Toxic family dynamics, Emotional manipulation, Possessive behavior, Mentions of abuse of power.

Authors Note: I hope you enjoyed this ending to Minho and Y/n's story. They will likely make an appearance in the next member's story. Thank you all so much for your support! Happy reading!

Summary: Is this the end of Minho and Y/N's story, or just the beginning? Continue reading to discover how Y/N navigates Minho's possessive nature and whether Minho truly captures Y/N's heart.

Minho crumpled the note in his hand, his fingers trembling with barely contained fury. He threw it across the room, watching as it bounced off the far wall and fell to the floor. A sudden burst of rage consumed him, his vision blurring red at the edges. With a guttural roar, he lashed out, his foot connecting with the coffee table. The sturdy wood splintered under the force of his kick, sending books and papers scattering across the hardwood floor.

Not satisfied, Minho turned to the nearest wall. His fist flew forward, knuckles cracking as they met the plaster. Pain shot through his hand, but he barely noticed it, too focused on the hole he had just created. Bits of drywall crumbled to the ground, a physical manifestation of his shattered composure.

Panting heavily, Minho ran a hand through his disheveled hair. He knew he had important matters to attend to for his father - meetings to schedule, deals to close. But in this moment, none of that mattered. His mind was consumed by a single thought, a burning desire that overshadowed everything else. He was going to get you back, no matter what it took. Your willingness was irrelevant; he had made up his mind. With newfound determination, Minho strode towards the door, his eyes glinting with a dangerous resolve. The hunt was on.

---

Minho's heart raced as he sped through the city streets, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. The familiar sight of your apartment building loomed ahead, its brick facade a stark contrast against the darkening sky. He screeched to a halt in the parking lot, tires squealing on the asphalt. Without hesitation, he bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time, his footsteps echoing in the stairwell.

Reaching your door, Minho paused for a moment, his breath coming in short gasps. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he fished out the key he had secretly made weeks ago, a smirk playing on his lips. The metal felt cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the heat of his anger. The lock clicked open with a satisfying sound, and he pushed the door wide, stepping into your studio apartment.

"I'm home, darling," he called out, his voice dripping with false sweetness. The words hung in the air, unanswered. As his eyes scanned the small space, his triumphant grin faded. The apartment was empty, silent save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of a clock on the wall. You were nowhere to be seen. The air still held traces of your perfume, taunting him with your recent presence.

Minho's jaw clenched, his earlier rage threatening to resurface. He stalked through the apartment, his footsteps heavy on the hardwood floor. He checked every corner, throwing open the closet doors with such force that they rattled on their hinges. Clothes swayed from the impact, but there was no sign of you. He even peered under the bed. But it was futile. You had slipped through his fingers once again, leaving behind only the ghost of your presence.

Standing in the center of your living space, Minho's eyes narrowed dangerously. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, knuckles still raw from his earlier outburst. This was just a minor setback, he told himself. His gaze swept over the room once more, taking in every detail, searching for any clue to your whereabouts. He would find you, no matter where you tried to hide. The thought of you escaping him only fueled his obsession. And when he did find you, he vowed silently, he would make sure you never left his side again. The hunt had just begun, and Minho was nothing if not persistent.

Frustration and determination etched deep lines on Minho's face as he stormed out of your apartment, slamming the door with as much force as possible. He raced down the stairs, his expensive leather shoes barely touching each step. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions, but one thought stood out crystal clear - the club where you worked. It was his only lead, his last hope.

As he sped through the city streets, the world outside his car became a blur of turned off neon lights and shadowy old buildings. His grip on the steering wheel tightened with each passing second, knuckles turning white with the force of his resolve. The leather creaked under his grasp, a physical manifestation of his inner turmoil.

Screeching to a halt outside the gentlemen’s club, tires leaving dark marks on the asphalt, Minho barely remembered to turn off the engine before leaping out of the car. The cool night air hit his flushed face, but he barely noticed. The pulsing beat of music that usually spilled out onto the street, was replaced with silence. As he approached the entrance, his eyes locked onto the burly bodyguard standing just outside the entrance. The man's imposing figure doing nothing to deter Minho's determination.

Without breaking stride, Minho shoved past the startled bouncer, his shoulder connecting forcefully with the larger man's chest. The bouncer stumbled back, caught off guard by the unexpected assault. "Hey, you can't just-" the bouncer began, but he stopped short once he realized who had just shoved his way into the building.

Inside, the club was a stark contrast to its usual vibrant atmosphere. The harsh fluorescent lights flickered intermittently, casting an eerie glow that accentuated every imperfection. The worn edges of the plush velvet chairs were frayed, their once-rich color now faded and patchy. Scuff marks marred the once-gleaming dance floor, telling tales of countless nights of revelry.

A handful of staff members were scattered around, their movements deliberate as they prepared for the night ahead. Two bartenders meticulously polished glasses behind the bar, the soft clink of crystal barely audible over the hum of the air conditioning. Near the stage, a pair of dancers stretched languidly, their lithe bodies casting long shadows across the floor. In the corner, a janitor mopped halfheartedly, his mop leaving streaks on the already grimy tiles.

Minho's eyes darted frantically around the room, searching for any sign of you. His desperation mounting with each passing second, he called out your name, his voice cracking with emotion as it echoed off the empty walls. "Where are you?" he shouted, his tone a discordant mix of anger, pleading, and barely concealed panic.

He stormed through the club, his expensive shoes squeaking on the freshly mopped floor. With reckless abandon, he threw open doors, the hinges groaning in protest. He yanked aside heavy velvet curtains, sending clouds of dust billowing into the air. The staff members froze in their tracks, watching him with a potent mixture of fear and confusion etched on their faces. Some cowered behind the bar, while others pressed themselves against the walls, trying to become invisible. Minho paid them no mind, his laser focus solely on his desperate search.

As he neared the dressing rooms, the scent of stale perfume and hairspray assaulting his nostrils, a petite waitress stepped forward hesitantly. Her uniform was slightly askew, and she nervously fiddled with the hem of her skirt. "Excuse me, sir," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with trepidation. Minho whirled around, his intense gaze locking onto her like a predator spotting its prey. She flinched visibly, taking a half-step back, but steeled herself and continued, "If you're looking for her, I think I saw her go into the back office earlier. She seemed... upset."

Without a word of thanks, not even a nod of acknowledgment, Minho spun on his heel and headed towards the office. His footsteps echoed ominously in the quiet club, each step deliberate and menacing. The sound reverberated off the walls, growing louder with each passing moment, as if the very building was amplifying his determination. The hunt was narrowing, the net closing in, and his prey was close. He could feel it in every fiber of his being, a primal instinct guiding him forward. The anticipation of confrontation, of finally having you within his grasp, sent a shiver of dark excitement down his spine.

Minho stalked down the narrow back hallway, his expensive shoes making soft indentations in the worn burgundy carpet beneath. The dressing rooms flanked him on either side, their doors adorned with peeling gold stars and faded names. The musty scent of old perfume and makeup powder hung heavy in the air, but his focus remained solely on the office door at the end of the corridor. It stood slightly ajar, a thin sliver of fluorescent light spilling out onto the dingy floor, casting long shadows that danced along the walls.

As he approached, your voice drifted out, stopping him in his tracks. The familiar sound made his heart race. "Why do I have to be the only one to dance for Mr. Lee now?" The words were tinged with frustration and a hint of fear, your voice trembling slightly on the last word.

For a moment, Minho's heart leapt, thinking you might be referring to him. His pulse quickened with anticipation, only to have that hope crushed moments later. The manager's gruff voice shattered that illusion, his words like sandpaper against Minho's ears. "The man owns this place. You have to do as he says. He told me you no longer dance for anyone else. Only on the main stage and only for him. Not even his son. Just him." Each word felt like a personal insult, stoking the fire of Minho's rage.

That rage boiled up inside him like molten lava, his vision blurring red at the edges as blood rushed to his head. His hands trembled with barely contained fury, and without hesitation, he burst through the door. The wood splintered under the force of his entry, sending splinters flying through the air. The door hinges screamed in protest as it slammed against the wall. In two long, purposeful strides, he reached you, his arms wrapping around your waist like steel bands. With one fluid motion, he hoisted you over his shoulder, the scent of your perfume filling his nostrils.

You immediately began to protest, your legs kicking wildly in the air and your small fists pounding against his broad back. Each impact was like a butterfly's wings against stone - noticed but ineffective. Your silky dress rode up slightly, and Minho's grip tightened possessively around your thighs. But he paid no heed to your struggles, your protests only fueling his determination.

He turned to face your stunned manager, who had stumbled back against his desk, papers scattering to the floor. Minho's eyes blazed with fury and possessiveness, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle twitched visibly. "She quits," he snarled, the words dripping with venom, each syllable sharp enough to cut glass.

Without waiting for a response, Minho spun on his heel and strode out of the office, his movements fluid despite carrying you. Your continued protests echoed down the hallway, bouncing off the walls like a desperate symphony. But he remained unmoved, his grip on you tightening with each step, fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs. The rapid beating of your heart against his shoulder only confirmed what he already knew - he had found you, and he had no intention of ever letting you go again. The thought sent a dark thrill of satisfaction through his body, a predator finally claiming its prey.

---

The ride from the gentlemen's club to Minho's penthouse was suffocating in its silence. You sat rigidly in the passenger seat, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, gaze fixed straight ahead through the windshield. The city lights blurred past, casting intermittent shadows across your face. Your jaw was set, lips pressed into a thin line, every muscle in your body radiating tension and defiance. The leather seat creaked softly whenever you shifted, the sound almost deafening in the oppressive quiet.

Minho's knuckles were white against the steering wheel, his eyes darting between the road and your reflection in the side window. Only once did he break the silence, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant as he asked, "Are you okay?" The question hung in the air, unanswered. Your only response was to turn your head slightly toward the window, shoulders stiffening further. The rage that had been simmering inside you was palpable - fury at his controlling behavior, at his presumption, at the way he'd ripped away your autonomy without a second thought.

As they drove through the glittering nighttime cityscape, something shifted in Minho's expression. His grip on the wheel loosened slightly, his shoulders dropping from their tense position. A realization was dawning, seeping into his consciousness like a slow-rising tide. Force, possession, control - none of it would give him what he truly wanted. He could keep you physically present, could surround you with golden chains, but your heart would remain forever out of reach unless freely given. By the time the elevator doors opened to his penthouse, his mind was made up. He would have to try a different approach - gentler, more patient, more vulnerable. He wouldn't let you leave, not yet, but perhaps he could show you a side of himself that might make you want to stay.

---

Once inside his vast penthouse, you went straight to the room he had reserved for you and locked the door. You lay on the bed, stewing in your anger with every intention of staying there indefinitely. Sleep claimed you for a while until your growling stomach woke you. Cautiously, you unlocked your door and crept into the hallway, hoping Minho was nowhere in sight.

The delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen had your mouth watering instantly. As you cautiously approached, you could see Minho moving with practiced ease around the space, stirring something in a large pot while checking what appeared to be rice in another. The domestic scene before you was so at odds with his earlier violent behavior that it momentarily stunned you into stillness.

He must have sensed your presence because he turned, dark eyes finding yours immediately. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were the gentle bubbling of whatever was cooking and the soft whir of the overhead ventilation. His expression was unreadable, but somehow softer than before, the sharp edges of his earlier rage smoothed away.

"You must be hungry," he finally said, his voice quiet and controlled. "I'm making kimchi jjigae. It'll be ready in a few minutes." He gestured to one of the barstools at the kitchen island. "Sit."

Despite every instinct screaming at you to turn and run back to your room, your growling stomach won out. Slowly, cautiously, you perched on the edge of the barstool, watching as he returned his attention to the stove. The domesticity of the scene felt surreal, like you had stepped into some alternate reality where Minho wasn't the man who had just forcibly kidnapped you from your workplace.

The steam rose from the bowls as Minho set them down, the rich aroma of the stew filling the space between you. He settled onto the stool beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. For several minutes, the only sounds were the quiet clink of spoons against ceramic as you both ate.

"Why?" The word escaped your lips before you could stop it, barely above a whisper. "Why me? Why... all of this?" You gestured vaguely at the penthouse around you. "What makes you think you can just take me from my life?"

Minho set his spoon down slowly, deliberately. His dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath catch. For a long moment, he just stared, as if searching for the right words to explain something inexplicable.

"The first time I saw you dance," he began, his voice low and measured, "it wasn't just your beauty that captivated me. It was the way you moved - like you were telling a story only you knew. Like you were somewhere else entirely." His fingers traced the rim of his bowl absently. "I've spent my whole life surrounded by people who want something from me - my money, my influence, my family name. But you... you didn't even look at me. You were completely lost in your own world, and I..." He paused, jaw tightening. "I wanted to be part of that world. I needed to be."

His hand clenched into a fist on the counter. "The more I watched you, the more I realized I couldn't bear the thought of anyone else having that piece of you. The thought of other men watching you, desiring you..." He shook his head, as if trying to dispel the image. "It consumed me. You consumed me. And yes, I know this isn't right. I know I'm being selfish and controlling. But I can't..." His voice cracked slightly. "I can't let you go. Not now. Not ever."

You stared at him, a mix of emotions warring in your chest - fear, anger, but also a strange flutter of something else at the raw vulnerability in his voice. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words and complicated feelings. Finally, you pushed your half-eaten bowl away, stood up from the barstool, and retreated back to your room, leaving Minho alone with his confession hanging in the air.

---

As the days went on a strange routine developed. True to his word, Minho never forced himself on you or demanded your attention. Instead, he gave you space, allowing you to retreat to your room whenever you needed. The penthouse became your gilded cage, but one with surprisingly comfortable boundaries. Every morning, you'd wake to find fresh clothes laid out - designer pieces in your size, each one carefully selected. The kitchen was always stocked with your favorite snacks and drinks.

What struck you most was the consistency of the evening meals. No matter how busy his day had been, Minho would return home and cook. Sometimes elaborate Korean dishes that filled the penthouse with mouth-watering aromas, other times simple but comforting meals. He never demanded that you join him, but you found yourself drawn to the kitchen more often than not, settling into what had become your usual spot at the island.

The dinners were mostly quiet affairs, punctuated by the occasional question about your comfort or needs. He never pushed for more, never demanded conversation or gratitude. But you could feel his eyes on you when he thought you weren't looking, filled with that same intensity from the first night - a mixture of possessiveness and something deeper, something almost like reverence.

You had opportunities to leave - the door wasn't locked, and you knew he wouldn't physically stop you. But something kept you there. Perhaps it was the strange peace you'd found in this luxurious prison, or maybe it was the way Minho's carefully maintained control seemed to crack a little more each time you voluntarily joined him for dinner. Whatever the reason, you stayed, watching as the lines between captivity and choice began to blur.

---

One evening, as Minho was gathering his things to leave the office at his father's business, his movements were unhurried and casual. Despite his recent distractions, he had managed to complete all his assigned tasks, maintaining the delicate balance between his obsession with you and his familial obligations. The fluorescent lights cast long shadows across the empty office floor as he shrugged on his expensive suit jacket.

His footsteps echoed in the quiet hallway as he headed toward the elevator, but the sound of multiple approaching footsteps made him pause. Four men, all wearing black suits that barely contained their muscular frames, blocked his path. He recognized them immediately - his father's personal security detail.

"What the fuck are you guys doing here?" Minho's voice was sharp with irritation. "I'm leaving. The work day is over." He attempted to push past them, but one of the men, a particularly burly individual with a scar across his left eyebrow, grabbed him by his lapels and slammed him against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs.

The man leaned in close, his breath hot against Minho's face. "Your father wanted us to send a message to you for taking his best dancer from him." The words were delivered with a cruel smile that promised violence.

Before Minho could react, a fist connected with his jaw, snapping his head to the side. Another blow landed in his stomach, forcing him to double over. The men surrounded him, raining down punches and kicks with practiced precision. Pain exploded across his body as they methodically worked him over, their knuckles leaving bloody marks on his face and torso.

But something inside Minho snapped. Years of suppressed rage, of living under his father's thumb, of being controlled - it all came boiling to the surface. With a primal roar, he launched himself at the nearest attacker. His fist connected with the man's nose, producing a satisfying crunch. The sudden ferocity of his counterattack caught them off guard.

Minho fought like a man possessed. He used every dirty trick he knew, every ounce of strength in his body. One by one, the men fell. An elbow to a throat here, a knee to a groin there. Blood - both his and theirs - spattered across the pristine hallway floor. When the last man dropped, Minho stood among them, chest heaving, his expensive suit torn and stained red.

He knelt beside the scarred man who had started it all, grabbing him by the collar. Blood dripped from Minho's split lip as he spoke, his voice a deadly whisper. "You tell my father that if he touches y/n, I will kill him." The words carried the weight of an oath, cold and absolute. Then he released the man, straightened his ruined jacket, and walked away, leaving the groaning bodies behind him. His face was battered and bleeding, but his steps were steady, fueled by a determination that made him look more dangerous than ever.

---

The kitchen was filled with the comforting aroma of simmering soup when you heard the front door open. Your hands were busy flipping a grilled cheese sandwich, the butter sizzling in the pan. You'd gotten more comfortable in his kitchen over the past weeks, learning where everything was kept, settling into an odd sort of domesticity that you tried not to think too hard about.

"I'm in here," you called out, not turning around as you carefully lifted the golden-brown sandwich onto a waiting plate. "I hope you're hungry. I made tomato soup and-" The words died in your throat as you finally turned to face him.

Minho stood in the kitchen doorway, his usually immaculate appearance in shambles. His expensive suit was torn and bloodied, his face a canvas of bruises and split skin. For a moment, neither of you moved. You watched as the tension in his shoulders visibly eased at the sight of you, his dark eyes softening despite the violence written across his features.

"You're cooking," he said softly, as if that was the most remarkable thing about this moment, not the fact that he looked like he'd been through a war. His gaze took in your messy bun and the silk pajamas that whispered against your skin as you moved, a possessive warmth creeping into his expression despite his battered state.

"Minho..." You stepped toward him, hand reaching out instinctively before you caught yourself. "What happened to you?"

He let you guide him to the master bathroom, his usual iron control giving way to an unexpected docility. Your hands trembled slightly as you helped him out of his ruined jacket, revealing more bruises blooming across his arms. The white dress shirt beneath was spattered with blood, and you carefully unbuttoned it, trying to ignore the way his muscles tensed under your fingertips.

Your breath caught as the shirt fell away. Despite the fresh bruises marring his skin, you couldn't help but notice the lean muscle underneath, the way old scars traced paths across his torso telling stories of previous violence. Minho watched you through hooded eyes as you wet a washcloth with warm water, his hands finding their way to your waist when you stepped between his legs to clean the cuts on his face.

The bathroom felt smaller somehow, the space between you charged with an electricity that made your skin prickle. You could feel the heat of his body, smell his cologne mixed with the metallic tang of blood. His grip on your waist tightened almost imperceptibly as you dabbed at a particularly nasty cut above his eyebrow.

"My father," he finally said, his voice low and rough. "He sent his men to teach me a lesson." His thumb traced small circles against your hip, the gesture almost unconscious. "He's angry that I took you from the club."

You found yourself leaning into him despite yourself, your free hand resting on his shoulder for balance. The intimacy of the moment wasn't lost on you - the way his breath ghosted across your collarbone, how his dark eyes never left your face as you worked. It was dangerous, this closing distance between captor and captive, but in that moment, with his vulnerability on display, the lines seemed to blur even further.

He lifted his hand to cup your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek. "So what will you do?" you asked softly, setting the cloth down and pushing his dark hair away from his brooding eyes. "You work for him, right? Doesn't he have all the power?"

Minho's eyes darkened, a flash of something dangerous passing through them. "I'll protect you," he murmured, pulling you closer until you were pressed against his chest. His lips ghosted along your jaw as he spoke, each word a warm caress against your skin. "We can run away together. The possibilities are unending for us."

Your hands trembled where they rested against his bare chest, caught between wanting to push him away and pull him closer. His grip tightened slightly, possessive yet gentle. "Whatever we decide," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, "I'll take care of you. Be someone you deserve."

Your lips met his in a heated rush, all the tension of the past weeks flowing into that single moment of connection. His response was measured, controlled - so different from his usual domineering nature. His hands remained gentle on your waist, letting you set the pace, letting you take what you wanted from him.

The kiss deepened, and you could taste the metallic hint of blood from his split lip, feel the slight wince when you pressed too hard against his bruises. But he didn't pull away. Instead, he let you explore, let you take control for the first time since this strange dance between you began.

When you finally broke apart, his eyes were dark with desire, but there was something else there too - a vulnerability you'd never seen before. His thumb traced your lower lip, his touch feather-light. "Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I need you to be sure."

You met his gaze steadily, a slight nod answering his question. Without hesitation, you reached for him, fingers trailing along his jaw. "I'm sure," you whispered, the words carrying the weight of everything unspoken between you.

In one fluid motion, he lifted you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as if you were something precious. Your breath caught at the tenderness in his touch - so different from the violence you'd witnessed in him before. He carried you to his bed, the silk sheets cool against your skin as he laid you down with utmost care.

Minho's eyes never left yours as he slowly began to undress you, each movement deliberate and reverent. The silk pajamas whispered against your skin as he slid them away, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze. But instead of the rushed passion you expected, he took his time, starting at your ankles with feather-light kisses that made you shiver.

He worked his way up your legs with agonizing slowness, mapping every inch of your skin with his lips and tongue. His hands followed the path of his mouth, leaving trails of fire in their wake. When he reached the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, your breath hitched, fingers clutching at the sheets beneath you.

"Beautiful," he murmured against your skin, his warm breath making you tremble. His touch was worship, each kiss a prayer, each caress an offering. He took his time exploring every curve, every hollow, treating your body like a temple he'd been waiting his whole life to pray at.

Your thighs quivered beneath his touch as his strong, calloused hands slowly spread them apart, his fingertips leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. His heated gaze darkened with raw desire as he took in the sight of your arousal, his tongue darting out to wet his lips in anticipation. A deep, possessive growl rumbled in his chest, the primal sound sending shivers down your spine. He leaned forward with deliberate slowness, his warm breath ghosting across your sensitive skin before pressing reverent, open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, each one moving closer to where you needed him most.

His mouth found your center, tongue tracing delicate patterns that made your back arch off the bed. Each stroke was deliberate, worshipful, drawing desperate sounds from your throat that seemed to fuel his passion. Your fingers tangled in his dark hair as waves of pleasure coursed through you.

Minho groaned against you, the vibrations adding to the overwhelming sensations. "Your sounds," he murmured between kisses, "are the sweetest music I've ever heard." His grip on your thighs tightened as your body writhed beneath his devoted attention.

His talented tongue circled your sensitive bud with increasing pressure, alternating between broad strokes and precise flicks that made your thighs tremble. When his lips wrapped around your clit and began to suck gently, stars exploded behind your eyes. Your back arched off the bed as waves of pleasure coursed through your body, his name falling from your lips in desperate gasps.

He worked you through your orgasm with gentle laps of his tongue, only pulling away when your tremors subsided. Rising to his feet, Minho's hands moved to his belt, unfastening it with deliberate slowness. Your eyes followed his movements hungrily as he stripped off his remaining clothes, his impressive length springing free.

In the dim light, you could see the map of scars across his muscled form - some old and faded, others still pink and new. Each mark told a story of survival, of strength. They were as much a part of him as his intense dark eyes and gentle hands. The juxtaposition of his dangerous past and his tender touch only made him more magnetic, more irresistible.

You rose to your knees on the bed, reaching for him with gentle hands. "Let me," you whispered, and something flickered in his dark eyes - surprise, vulnerability, desire all mixed into one. When you guided him to lie back against the pillows, he complied without resistance, his muscled body relaxing under your touch.

Moving between his powerful thighs, you took your time exploring him, trailing soft kisses down his chest and abdomen. Your lips traced the edges of his scars with reverent tenderness, showing love to every mark that life had left on him. His breathing grew heavier with each touch, his hands fisting in the sheets beside him.

When you finally reached his impressive length, you began with feather-light kisses along the shaft, delighting in the way it twitched beneath your lips. Your tongue darted out to taste him, tracing delicate patterns from base to tip. A low groan escaped his throat, his hips lifting slightly off the bed, seeking more of your touch.

"Y/n," he breathed, one hand coming to tangle gently in your hair. The tension in his body told you he was fighting to maintain control, to let you set the pace. You rewarded his patience by taking him into your mouth, inch by inch, your tongue swirling around his sensitive head.

His sharp intake of breath spurred you on. You worked him slowly, reverently, alternating between gentle suction and long, languid licks. His fingers tightened in your hair, not controlling, just connecting, grounding himself in your touch as pleasure coursed through him.

With practiced skill, you took him deeper, hollowing your cheeks as you increased the suction. His length pulsed against your tongue as you worked him with passionate dedication. Each bob of your head drew increasingly desperate sounds from his throat, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.

When you felt him begin to tremble beneath you, you released him with a final, lingering lick. His eyes were dark with need as you crawled up his body, your skin sliding against his. Positioning yourself above him, you slowly sank down onto his length, gasping at the delicious stretch as he filled you completely.

His hands found your hips, steadying you as you adjusted to his size. The look of pure adoration in his eyes made your heart flutter, even as the pleasure of being so intimately connected threatened to overwhelm you.

You began to move, rolling your hips in a slow, sensual rhythm that had both of you gasping. His hands tightened on your waist, guiding your movements as you found a perfect tempo together. The moonlight streaming through the windows painted silver patterns across your joined bodies, turning this moment of passion into something almost ethereal.

Minho sat up suddenly, pulling you tight against his chest as he continued thrusting up into you. His lips found your neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses as one hand slid up your back to tangle in your hair. The new angle sent sparks of pleasure through your body, drawing a desperate moan from your throat as he hit that perfect spot deep inside you.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak, your bodies moving together in perfect synchronization. His lips captured yours in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as his thrusts became more urgent, more desperate. The coil of tension in your core wound tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

You could feel him getting close - his controlled rhythm faltering as passion overtook technique. His movements grew increasingly desperate, hips snapping up with primal urgency as his kisses became messier, more demanding. His fingers dug into your flesh hard enough to leave marks, anchoring you against him as you rolled your hips to meet each powerful thrust. When your name fell from his lips, it was reverent yet raw - "Y/n... oh god..." - the words muffled against your throat between ragged breaths.

This transcended mere physical pleasure. Each touch, each kiss felt like an act of worship, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony. Your heart swelled with an emotion far deeper than desire, threatening to burst from your chest. In that moment of perfect connection, you surrendered completely to the feeling, knowing with absolute certainty that you were irrevocably his.

His thrusts grew erratic, hitting deeper and harder as you both chased your release. When it finally crashed over you, it was overwhelming - waves of pleasure coursing through every nerve ending as your walls clenched around him rhythmically. Your breathless cries of ecstasy mingled with his deep, guttural groans. His hips stuttered as he followed you over the edge, his release hot and pulsing deep inside you as your bodies trembled together.

Completely spent, you collapsed onto his heaving chest, both of you slick with sweat and struggling to catch your breath. His heart thundered against your ear as his hands traced lazy patterns along your spine. Despite your shared state of dishevelment, he held you close, refusing to let go.

Minho's lips found your skin again, pressing tender kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck. Each touch was filled with affection, marking you as his in the gentlest way possible. Wrapped in his strong arms, surrounded by his warmth, you drifted off to sleep listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing and the gradual slowing of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

---

The next morning you were woken up by early morning light drifting in from the large windows. Your body was a bit sore as you rolled over onto your back, stretching your muscles slowly. As you moved the blankets rustled next to you revealing a very cute and puffy looking Minho. He was still a sleep and you couldn’t help but stare. His hair a mess, his lips pouty and pink.

You couldn't suppress a soft giggle at the sight before you - this dangerous, powerful man now looking utterly defenseless in his sleep. His usual sharp features had softened, making him appear almost boyish. The contrast between his daytime intensity and this vulnerable state made your heart flutter. With gentle fingers, you traced the strong line of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble beneath your fingertips. Your touch wandered up to follow the elegant slope of his nose, admiring how his long eyelashes cast delicate shadows on his cheeks in the morning light. He was devastatingly handsome - the kind of beauty that made your breath catch every time you looked at him. When your fingertips ghosted across his full bottom lip, you felt him beginning to stir beneath your touch.

"Having fun?" Minho's voice was thick with sleep, a deep rumble that sent shivers down your spine. Though his eyes remained closed, a knowing smirk played at the corners of his mouth. His morning voice was deliciously husky, each word dripping like honey. Your pulse quickened as those dark eyes slowly fluttered open, still heavy-lidded but instantly focused on you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

Before you could stammer out a response, his strong arms snaked around your waist. In one fluid motion, he pulled your naked body flush against his, eliminating any space between you. The heat radiating from his skin was intoxicating - he was like your own personal furnace, radiating warmth and comfort. His firm chest pressed against yours as you eagerly molded yourself to him, your legs tangling with his beneath the sheets. You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent as his fingers traced lazy patterns along your spine.

You both lay there in silence for a while, basking in the peaceful morning stillness. The gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours and the soft caress of his fingers along your spine created a bubble of serenity that you wished could last forever. But the weight of reality couldn't be held at bay indefinitely.

Minho's voice, when he finally broke the silence, carried a gravity that made your heart clench. "You know, my father won't stop," he said, his jaw tightening visibly. "He sees you as something I’ve taken from him - a possession, a bargaining chip. He'll never understand that you're not his to claim." His words hung heavy between you, laden with unspoken fears and promises.

You sat up slowly to look at him properly, the silk sheets sliding away from your body. Though the morning air was cool against your exposed skin, you barely noticed it. Minho's eyes remained fixed on your face, his dark gaze intense with a mixture of concern and fierce protectiveness. The vulnerability in his expression made your chest ache.

"Minho," you whispered, reaching out to trace the worried crease between his brows. "I'm with you. Whatever we need to do... whatever battles we have to fight, whatever sacrifices we have to make - I'll do it all as long as I'm with you. Your father, the organization, none of it matters compared to this - to us."

The impact of your words hit him like a physical force. You watched as his carefully maintained walls crumbled, leaving him completely bare before you - no longer the feared enforcer or the dutiful son, but simply a man in love. His hands trembled slightly as they came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing softly across your cheekbones. The tenderness in his touch contrasted sharply with the intensity burning in his eyes.

He pulled you close, capturing your lips in a kiss that spoke volumes. It was desperate and gentle all at once, filled with gratitude, fear, hope, and above all, love. When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes bore into your soul with newfound determination. "Then we leave," he breathed against your lips, his voice rough with emotion. "We'll disappear, start fresh somewhere they can't reach us. Make a life for ourselves far away from all of this - just you and me."

Tags:

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[dateamonster]

ive come full circle and now i think movies where the kid is supposed to be some creepy demon in disguise but the only way the filmmakers could think to convey that was just to make them very obviously autistic are funny as hell. its never going to stop so i might as well enjoy the ride i guess.

[krys-in-the-playhouse]

OC Brainrots #3: Miri and Memories of the Eight of Us

Welcome back to OC Brain Rots, where I go off about an OC of mine and whatever it is that caused them to tickle my brain at the moment.

Have decided to have the brain rot posts here, with the intros and the first two entries staying on main. All rots will be on my OC masterlist if you want to read the previous entries!

For this brain rot, Miri's been on my mind as of late thanks to these asks from Oliver ( @olivermorningstar) and then I happened across the audio drama 'Memories of the Eight of Us' on my watch later playlist on youtube and now I'm really in my feels with Miri and the Obey Me boys, so that's the reason for this brainrot.

If you want, I highly recommend watching/listening the drama, especially if you wanna be put in the mood for some wholesome Demon Brothers shenanigans. I'll post the link below!

For the basic gist of it, the bros are visiting the MC in the human realm after the release of the Miss Em plushies and are considering some fun things to do with MC on their mini vacation in Kyoto. They all take turns imagining different scenarios with MC. I'm inserting Miri and her reactions/participation ideas for these scenarios. Spoilers for the drama down below~

Mammon, being Mammon, he wants to go to the horse races. He fantasizes about winning a whole bunch of money from racing bets, but the brothers shoot down the idea. For me, I just imagine Miri wants to see the horses because horses are cool! If she has the speak to animals charm (because she would want it, Solomon teach it to her, she's begging!) Mammon would try and see if she could use her magic to see who was gonna win the race (as if that's a deciding factor), but she gets caught up in the horses' camaraderie of letting the oldest horse win because he's gonna retire after this race and they all looked up to him and respected him and Miri is brought to tears because it's such a moving story and places her bets on the old horse and wins big. Then it was Mammon's turn to cry as he bet against her (bc he didn't believe her/thought the horses were joshing her/some other reason to bet against her) and she just wins so so much money because she knew how the race was rigged, lol.

With Asmo, he wanted to visit a famous movie studio and then everyone could have some fun cosplaying as samurai lords. A scenario plays of samurai Asmo stopping a robber (Mammon) from stealing MC's purse, then giving MC a token as a remembrance. I just had a cute picture of Miri in a pretty pink and purple kimono with lots of layers as she's playing the part of a noble lady/princess that Asmo rescues and it was cute to imagine.

Levi wants to go to the manga museum while Satan wants to take MC to various other art museums. She would try to placate the both of them because manga (comics in general, really) is art too, so she'll want to go with both of them to the museums! Maybe introduce Satan to some manga he might like or point out older art pieces that helped inspire this or that mangaka to Levi. She'd have a great time regardless!

Belphie initially wanted to rent out a house so they could nap on the porch in the gentle breeze, but everyone thought that was boring, so he settled on pottery classes instead, where they could make their own teacups and paint them, which was also shut down bc of Belphie's not so great art skills. I think Miri would love to paint some teacups with him, it'd be so cute, no matter their art skill levels! She'd treasure those teacups! Y'all are just mean!

Lucifer (with everyone's leeriness about his suggestion of a factory in the anime) suggests a famous well said to be an ancient portal to hell. He wants both to check it out for Diavolo's interest, but also thinking of it as a way so MC can visit them/they can visit MC without having a drain on their magic. All the brothers try their best to not let the well idea win, but he does bring up some good points. No one wants to lose to a hole in the ground, so they decide it was best to let MC choose their adventure. But, not gonna lie, Miri would have interest with the hole in the ground too, sorry guys!

Beel, throughout this entire conversation, is thinking out loud about food, talking about various kinds (meats, seafood, can't forget the veggies either). Everyone else takes it as Beel being Beel and writes it off, at least until MC comes back home.

He had mentioned wanting to be the first to greet MC when they came back, causing the usual ruckus of all the brothers wanting to be the first to greet them, but, surprise, surprise, Beel gets his wish as the first words out of his mouth (after all the other brothers crowd around MC with their ideas of a fun vacation idea unprompted) were 'welcome home.' Not only that, but his mentions of food weren't his usual fantasies, but he was planning out dinner for MC, even making special mention that he didn't take bites in between cooking because he wanted to be sure they had enough to eat first. Me and Miri both teared up at his thoughtfulness, especially if she had a hard day of sorcerer lessons and human life in general.

The other brothers soon fall in line in saying welcome back/welcome home to Miri, making her tear up a little more and smile so big, feeling so loved in this little moment with her family.

And now I'm caught up in my feels too, so I'm gonna stop this here. Thanks for joining me on this feels trip! See ya in the next brainrot episode!

[borom1r]

finally knocked The Monster Project off my watchlist and that was… disappointing?

[tojisun]

EXPAND ON THIS

https://www.tumblr.com/tojisun/758472884430716928/no-matter-how-hard-you-try-you-just-cant-make

AND MY LIFE IS YOURS

aww im glad that u (all) liked that blurb!! didnt expect the vitriol in ur guys’ reactions but ykw? samesies <3 oki uhh so heres something quick and simple

cw: fivesome (but they go in order, also simon doesnt properly get a turn im sorry 😞); f!reader; subspace; builds up into consensual noncon; unrealistic sex; rambly as hell and its set up messily; wc is 3.6k :’3

(you tell them it’s a wrong send, and that it’s meant for johnny so they all said, “oh damn. welp,” and leaves you and johnny to go at it all night long teehee <33) (jk) (unless) (no ok im jk)

johnny fucks you first. the guys didn’t complain, and trickled into your room, ready to fall to whatever place they could sit down to watch. johnny laughs, and tugs you towards him, gently slapping your hand away when you try to cover yourself up with your shirt, and tells them, “watch me.”

not us, but me. like you’re a nameless hole whose only worth is to be fucked, and somehow that… doesn’t deter you at all.

instead, you ignore the warmth flooding in your cheeks and the stares that drag on your body, and focused on johnny’s smirk and his crooning words and his wide palms roving over whatever sliver of your skin he can touch. he positions himself in between your legs, his fatigues an uncomfortable sensation against your oversensitive skin.

he doesn’t care. he drags down his zipper and frees his cock from his briefs, before swiping his palm on the inside of your thigh, gathering the excess lube glistening there to use it as oil for his prick. your nose scrunches when he brings his hand to give himself a quick tug, foreskin peeling from the head to show off how flushed it is.

he crawls until he’s on top of you, and throws out, “let me show ye how to fuck ‘er, yes?”

you don’t even realize the words are for the rest of the squad because he’s already slipping his cock in your cunt, slow and careful, and you keen because yessss—

this is the delicious burn you’ve wanted. oh god oh god—

it didn’t even take johnny long before you’re cumming, your throat spasming at the scream that rips itself out from within you. your hips rise from the bed, your body jolting, unable to ground itself at the breaking euphoria that forced shockwaves to raze your synapses.

you fall on the bed limply, satiation filling you up in lapping waves. johnny pulls out and fucks his fist and sprays his cum all over your stomach. he musses it up, rubbing his palm against it like it’s a damn lotion, and lathers whatever inch of your belly he can cover.

it’s gross and weird, especially as the recollection that you’ve had an audience hits you, but then johnny’s stepping back and moving away. you try to shut your legs close, but someone’s already shuffling in, taking up the space that johnny had carved out.

you stare up at your captain, shock filling you up. he doesn’t ask with words but he quirks his brow up, waiting, and you don’t know what it is, but you give him a nod before ducking your head to the side.

which was a mistake, you learn, because you make eye contact with kyle; kyle who is—was—slowly rubbing himself through his pants, his palm gliding over his chub. his eyes are blown wide and he looks ravenous as he meets your gaze.

you hiccup, feeling cornered and delighted at the same time, but then john’s rubbing his cock along your messy folds, using the mess you and johnny made to lube himself up, and you mewl, tearing your eyes away from kyle to meet john’s stare head on.

he looks… calm. not teasing nor hungry, but poised with forced grace like this is another mission, and he has willed his full body to sync together so that not even a stray strand of hair will falter and miss a beat.

you don’t know how to position that with yourself, not like you needed to dwell on it any further because john’s already thrusting in. like johnny, he is careful, but he is more cautious, pushing inch by inch without even a ragged breath like he’s scoping out your reaction before he could let out his.

god, why’s everything so difficult with him—even now, speared with his cock, you still don’t know how to react. it’s like you’re a recruit all over again, dawdling underneath your CO’s scrutiny. it’s jarring, terrifying, really, but then john’s drooping onto you, his head tipping down to nuzzle close to your jaw, and this level of intimacy is what rips a moan out of you. it is drawn out and high-pitched, and so, so utterly debauched.

you hear more than see john’s pleased laugh, his breaths coming out in puffs that brush against your neck in a ticklish manner. the moment drags on—nuzzles and quiet huffs, and slow rocks of his hips almost like he’s taking his time to savour you; to allow you to get used to his size because he’s so different from johnny.

johnny is thick, but john is long. he is reaching deeper than you have ever known, and it’s so overwhelming that you begin to cling to him, in need of any way to ground yourself down from the slow-racing pleasure.

you don’t know how long he’s got you like that, but then he’s pulling back and away, and, “nonono, please. please, sir—”

“shh, i’ve got you,” he rumbles, still so utterly quiet that it forces out the tears faster, and you know something’s changed because john is looking at you with a proud smile, all tactile as he manhandles you to your side, before disappearing behind you. you feel your head being lifted then dropped onto something harder than your pillow, and it is only the smell of ozone that lets you know that john had pillowed your head with his arm, while the other snakes around your waist to pull you closer to him.

you stare at the expanse of your room but everything looks like they’re appearing underneath a hazy filter, so you blink your eyes to clear them from that mist but it remains unchanged. you feel heavy, all of sudden, like you’re submerged in water, wading through the ripples. floating.

you try to look at the others but all you see are blurs of colours, and you know this should terrify you, you know something’s happening in your mind, but you feel so good. so happy. so you fold into yourself, accepting the haze with a keen because john’s fucking back into you.

it is still so utterly gentle, like love-making, and this makes you sob because the euphoria is dizzying and overwhelming. it is something you haven’t felt before—johnny fucks you like a man starved; john fucks you like he’s trying to meld himself into you. or you into him.

it is so drastically different, and you were made to navigate the changing tides. but you can’t, not when john—

“fuck!” you scream, thrashing in his hold, but john ignores your voice as his heavy hand falls on your cunt with consistent smacks.

you feel lightheaded, untethered, and this is what pushes you to the edge. your orgasm is cataclysmic. it’s like having the fabrics of your reality collide until you are a supernova, bright and burning and so, so, so ecstatic.

you don’t even know how you came down from that high, but when you wake up, john’s already pulled out and your thighs feel extra sticky. you sniffle, turning to accept the quick kiss he leaves on your cheek. he pulls away and you watch him sink back to the lone chair in your room, and only then do you realize he’s still in his uniform. still in the fatigues.

it makes you extra vulnerable somehow and you twist, trying to find anything to cover yourself with, but your shirt’s been thrown to the floor, far from your reach, and your blankets were kicked off the bed.

you grumble, shyness encroaching again now that there’s no one to monopolize your attention, but a movement from the corner of your eyes makes you jolt. you turn, forcing your eyes to focus, and you blink in surprise because you are sure that kyle wasn’t there before—close to your shelving that is stuffed with little knickknacks and souvenirs brought to you by the boys when they take on separate missions that don’t require your involvement.

the same shelving where you’ve plopped your charging vibrator on. the very same one that is being held up by kyle.

“kyle?” you ask, unable to say any more with how wrecked your voice has become. but the call echoes like a gunshot in the suddenly stifling room, and they all look at you as one. like it didn’t matter if kyle was the one holding the wand because they all knew what they want, and it is to see you be fucked with it.

excitement fills you up despite the throbbing exhaustion settling in your bones, and you wonder if they could scent it with the way the pressure in the room grows heavy, almost bladed—ice shards against still waters.

kyle moves towards you and your eyes track the wand, almost hypnotized by it, and watch as he drops it on the mattress to shuck off his clothes. it is only then do you turn to him, hungry in the way you devour how he moves, how he breathes, how he unbuckles his belt.

his trousers come first, then his shirt. kyle is a catastrophic wonder—seeing him naked like this makes your core throb, aching need stretching in the yawning of your stomach, because he is so beautiful, terrifyingly so.

he reaches for your waist and drags you so you’re laying on your back again, your legs sprawled out on either side of his hips. he looks down at you, his eyes crinkled in his smile. he looks so charming, boyish and youthful, and he makes you thrum with quiet desire because you feel safe even when you’re bare before him.

you feel particularly cherished, like you are the apple of his eye.

“you’ve been so good to us, love,” he murmurs, but in the silence of everyone, his voice bounces off the walls, seeping into where the others are, watching raptly once again.

you nod, not knowing what else to say. kyle chuckles, the sound trickling like quiet chimes, and you wonder if he’s doing this for you—talking to you in whispers to give your body time to come down from the tremors, or filling you up with something other than a cock because johnny had come in scathing, and john had pierced you with something consuming, and kyle—

kyle is trying to distract you.

you’ve forgotten about the toy, sitting there so innocently. it’s out of your reach, tucked preciously close to kyle’s left leg the way he treats all his smaller guns—never straying beyond his person, and hovering close. you’ve once asked him if it wasn’t more comforting to have it on him where he can feel its weight and kyle had looked at you with that soft smile like you’ve uttered something so delightful, before telling you, “there’s a certain pleasure in having it displayed.”

like a promise and an assurance—he will always be faster; the one who is more in control.

and today, kyle is treating the wand with the same vehemence.

you didn’t even know you were already shaking your head until kyle had cupped your cheek, quiet sounds of comfort rumbling from his chest.

“don’t worry,” he says, eyes blazing with a terrifying promise. “all good girls have to be rewarded.”

kyle doesn’t fuck you with his cock right away; instead, he’d bent over and took a nipple into his mouth. it makes you gasp, back arching at every wet suck. there is pleasure to derive, but it is so muted that you begin to settle back into your mattress, waiting, almost in bated breath because kyle has yet to reach for the wand.

you jolt when he finally uses his hands, stomach tensing in anticipation. but still, kyle doesn’t reach for it, and instead he swipes a finger to your slit. your pussy’s still so sensitive so it makes you buck, a sharp animalistic sound tearing from your throat, and kyle takes advantage of the sudden change in the pace.

he slips in two fingers in your cunt, curling to poke at your walls, before fucking them out—he lifts up and sucks your other nipple—and punching them back in. it’s a wet slide, each thwaps ring in your head, and you moan, clawing at kyle’s back because how could he make you feel good just like this?

it’s almost a laughable parallel—just an hour ago, you had been in the same position, with your legs parted open and two fingers fucking in, while your other hand flicks at your nipples because you had so desperately wanted any form of orgasm. god, it didn’t even need to feel ecstatic, just something that’d rip your aching need into quiet tides. and now here you are, spread open with kyle mirroring every flick of his fingers and every pinching sensation on your nipples, and he is making you feel good.

how dare he. how dare he give you unadulterated pleasure with just his fingers? how could you ever go back to masturbating now that he’s even triumphed over your previous failures, showing your body that there are ways to make your toes curl without a cock nor a toy?

how dare he—

“no!” you whine, circling your hand around his wrist when he pulls out. you were so close; its tendrils spreading all over your body in the wake of your encroaching orgasm. you thought you were going to be rewarded? kyle promised. he said so!

“oh, love,” kyle coos, breaking through the swirling turmoil in your head. “i’m not done yet, i promise.”

you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the sob that is lodged in your throat as you watch kyle give his cock a pump before lining it up with your cunt. unlike johnny and john—and the reminder that they’re there, with simon, makes you jolt for a quick second—kyle doesn’t press in slow nor gentle.

no.

kyle punches everything in. you scream, the sound guttural as you are filled so quickly and so deeply, leaving you to feel the sudden crescendo of your pleasure. your body spasmed—because there was nothing else that could explain the sensation of having all your synapses sing with a ripping pleasure—before you black out for a second.

you come to the feeling of kyle’s hand mapping your belly, digging just enough that his fingers dimple your skin. you are still stretched and stuffed, and the remnants of your pleasure fire up again.

he flicks his eyes up to you with a smile. “came so soon f’r me, love.”

your only response is a gurgle. it makes kyle laugh.

“that must mean y’r ready for something else, yeah?”

a confused whimper bubbles from your throat. kyle just snaps his hips in reply, rendering your mind shut again. you hear him shuffling against the sheets, his free hand reaching for something you cannot see, and you feel your mind pressing at its edges, trying to retrieve the memory of what it is he is looking for because you know what it is, you’re sure.

buzzing noises fill your ears, the sound ricocheting around the space, and your body locks, recollection slamming into you. you tear your gaze away from the far wall to look at kyle.

you wonder what your face must’ve looked like because kyle begins to croon.

“i’ve seen this from a homemade porn video.” he shrugs at the incredulous expression on your face. “and i’ve always wanted to try it because sweetheart, they didn’t press it on her clit.”

what—

kyle moves, his body rippling with ease. you don’t notice but the boys crowd in, interest bright in their eyes. only ghost continues to be rooted in his spot, and it is only his head tipping to the side that lets the others know he’s just as interested.

kyle presses the toy on your belly. your nose scrunches in displeasure because it just feels like you’re being massaged incorrectly, but he keeps shifting, hunting, and it’s weird because kyle’s still in you so what—

you gasp, eyes widening at the odd sensation. kyle freezes, his body curling into something predatory, and digs your wand there on your—

“no way,” johnny laughs, and you want to snarl at him to go away but you can’t because he’s right.

no way.

kyle had pressed the vibrating bulb of your toy just below your belly and slightly before your upper pelvic area—kyle had pressed the toy on your womb.

the pleasure is new, uncharted, and it is petrifying because you’ve never felt this way before. you didn’t even know it was possible to stimulate yourself there, but kyle’s already resuming the pace he’d set, fucking his cock in deeply almost like he wants to feel the buzz from within.

you begin to sob but the tears feel different this time. they’re still out of pleasure, but the swirling surprise melts the euphoria into something frightening. you don’t even realize you’ve begun to babble.

“no more!” you hiccup, weak fists thumping against kyle’s chest only to be restrained by john and johnny, each man pushing them down with their own hands.

everything feels too scary, all of a sudden. this pleasure of yours is bigger than you have ever expected and it’s building up too fast and too soon, and still, kyle remains unfazed.

“i’m scared! i’m scared, kyle please!”

your words turn into unintelligible warbles, and kyle just says how you are so adorable like this.

“y’r pussy’s going stir crazy, baby,” he croons amidst your tears and you want to scream at him, to be mad and say something mean, but you feel so utterly lost in the bubbling bliss.

it is something you’ve never felt before; it’s almost like you are relearning your body at this very moment—like kyle is unmaking you, and remodelling you, and you feel this cathartic bloating of your orgasm.

kyle sees the moment you succumbed to the enveloping terror of your euphoria, and it’s like he’s been waiting for this moment because he begins to fuck you faster. deeper. his pelvis meets the plush of your ass with every thrust, while he digs the toy further down your flesh.

how could the vibrations ripple past the fat, you don’t know, but your orgasm is building, peaking—

it breaks with another scream tearing from your lungs. this one is much stronger than the previous ones, and enveloping because it feels like your whole body has shut down in the wake of your release.

your mind splinters, your body falling limp like your strings have been cut loose, and kyle turns forgiving again because he shuts the toy down and throws it away. he pulls out and only then do you feel the trickle of his cum sliding out of you.

he leans in, brushing his nose over your cheek. then, “just one more, little bird.”

kyle slides off the bed, but so do john and johnny, and you hiccup, still sobbing, still floating from the world-shattering climax, when simon greets you.

he is quiet for a while, watching as you catch your breath. you couldn’t even stop yourself from sniffling, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes to stain your already blotchy cheeks. he grunts, hand falling to brush unimaginably soft touches across your body, observing.

waiting.

“was’it?” you finally bite out because you know simon—you know ghost—and there is something that’s sitting on the tip of his tongue that he so desperately wants to spit out.

simon grumbles, rolling his eyes.

you groan, growing impatient. “tell m’.”

but he still doesn’t talk, choosing instead to manhandle your body until it is close to him. you want to tell him to give you a minute; that you’re still so sore and tired, and kyle just fucked you mindless that you need a goddamn break, so, “s’mon, no…”

he grunts, palming along your waist, then your hips, before it stops on the fat of your ass. he grabs a handful.

“won’t you let me fuck this hole instead,” simon finally replies.

your heart lurches to your throat, and you’re not the only one surprised because johnny’s bounding in close, excited, chatting simon’s ear how he wants to go next, “please, LT?”

you want to tell him to ask you, not simon, but simon’s already giving his assent with a huff, chirping how johnny’s so impatient—a master and his dog—before they turn to you again.

it is only then do you realize that simon hadn’t been asking for proper permission; it was all formalities because he was not going to settle for anything that isn’t yes.

anal sex hasn’t been something you are really interested in; no amount of porn and online anecdotes can change your mind, but simon’s gaze is heavy. it’s final.

before you can even reply, john’s already throwing something to simon. he catches it with ease, and only when simon flicks his hand do you recognize it to be the lube you’ve chucked away in your anger when this whole night started. kyle returns with the wand.

you lay there, on simon’s lap, seeing them flanking you for this… corrupting.

“okay,” you muster, trying to stake even a semblance of control.

thankfully, they ignore the shaking of your fists or the way your chest begins to heave in your morbid anticipation. simon laughs, and swoops down to nip your cheek.

“good girl.”

whew whyd it become a long ramble of smut??? it was supposed to be a john n johnny centric fucking bc of the prelude but alas, i needed to write a semblance of dark!kyle so here we are <3

temp taglist bc yall are animals (affectionate)!!!: @getosuguswhore @slut-lmao @mxtokko @imjusthereforkonig @bratzdolly4 @mabelwinters @stars4sar @sergeant-jasper @spiceywawa @j0r-d1e

[teaboot]

Its been a rough couple days out here so I'm writing a list of things I love about my son

(who is cat)

His dumb little face

His pretty yellow eyes

Every day when I get home the FIRST thing that happens is I scoop him up into my arms like a big baby and he let's me rub his tumtum for a whole two minutes!! Before returning to Bite Mode

The SECOND thing that happens is he gets the zoomies! When his father returns from work he goes SNUGGLE! then zooooooom. Because he is excited for me to play with him!!

When I play computer games he likes to feel included so even though he isn't normally very touchy he lets me scoop him up in one arm so he can sit there like a toddler and watch the screen

He trusts me SO much like if he wants up on a shelf or down off something tall I can just walk over and kneel and he'll crawl up or down me like a ladder and I've never had a cat do that before

He'll ride around on my shoulders when I take him out for walks which van be tricky now that he's big but he's so brave even when we pass a dog

Sometimes when I go to run his chin he gets SO EXCITED he'll jam his nose into my palm and smush it hard like he's trying to burrow a hole in the ground and it's adorable

He loves water-appliances? Like sinks and toilets and baths and such. He gets SO excited every time I turn on a faucet, he'll rush over and get as close as he can to watch without getting wet.

His favourite part of the whole house is the bathtub and whenever I take a bath he'll drape himself over the side and lounge there until I get out. He's not allowed in when I'm using the toilet but once I'm done I open the door to leave and he rushes in to check if I've been taking a secret bath without him, goes straight to the tub

In trying to teach him not to bite me, he has learned that he IS allowed to bite blankets. So if he really, really wants to play and I'm ignoring him, he'll bite me blankets and whip them around like a puppy playing tug-of-war.

If I'm ignoring him because I am ALSEEP, this sometimes results in me waking up because he has successfully pulled my blankets off of me.

He likes watching trucks. He'll sit in the window and watch traffic but if he hears a loud engine he'll RUSH to check it out.

When he was a baby, my brother would visit in the afternoons to feed and play with him while I was working. As a result, he loves his uncle more than me, and will allow constant tummy rubs

Because my brothers and I do family movie night at my place, and because he loves his uncles so much, he lights up whenever the doorbell rings and MUST greet visitors at the door.

Sometimes he tries to climb up a door by hugging the edge and jumping as high as he can. It has never worked but he still keeps trying. I think he just likes sliding down like it's a firepole.

He is obsessed with the smell of McDonalds french fries. He doesn't try to eat them, he just wants the box. There us currently one under my bed that I'm not allowed to throw away. I can hear him jamming his face into it right now.

Sometimes when he's curious about something I'm doing- eating, drinking, washing up, whatever- I'll let him sniff, and I'll just hear two or three strongass HUFF. HUFF sounds before he goes back to chilling. It's the cutest shit.

He's soft like the luxurious wild mink

His littol baby FEETSIES

Sometimes he stops grooming himself and forgets his tongue is sticking out

His laser toy has a keychain attachment that jingles so whenever he hears a metallic jingle like that he thinks it's playtime

when I wash my face in the bathroom in the morning he hops on top of the toilet tank and starts grooming himself like "Oh hey I guess it's EVERYBODY'S bath time okay"

He's chatty and will meep back and forth with me

He has a round little wicker nest bed on a pedestal in my room and he likes to climb inside at night and make biscuits on the cushion while he sucks on the corner and it makes me wanna cry he's such a big baby

He will not wake me up for breakfast but as soon as I move in thevmorning he'll hop up onto my chest and stare at me. If I take too long to get up he'll meep in my face and then bounce back and forth between me and the door until I'm up.

Once I AM up, he will circle me and continue chirping until I ask him if it is time for dinner. Dinner, as far as he knows, is the only word for food. As soon as I ask, "is it dinner time?" He will zoom to the kitchen like a bat out of he'll and wait beside his bowl.

He genuinely seems to enjoy walkies and will climb into his carrier if he thinks we're going somewhere

Soketimes he'll pick up one of his toys and trot around with it like he's showing it off and I swear to God every time it makes me wanna make the most embarrassing noises

Him son ♡

[sierra-r-a-e]

you were the only one who could get the strongest sorcerer down on his knees like this. “please, princess. let me get just one taste of this pretty pussy~” he’d say, getting down onto his knees, his hands dragging along your sides as he goes.

once you finally agreed to let him taste the most private part of you, his face immediately lit up. satoru quickly got to work pushing, pulling, and tugging on whatever articles of clothing were standing in the way of his needy, watering mouth getting to your pussy.

he took a moment to admire your already glistening folds before he buried his face in your cunt. your hands immediately went to his hair, softly tugging on the silky strands in order to ground yourself from the immense pleasure.

you gently brushed the stray hairs out of his face, watching as he lapped at your cunt like a starved man, his tongue delving deep into your hole before coming back up to circle your clit, sucking on the nub and letting go with a lewd ‘pop’.

he hiked your leg up over his shoulder in order to get a better angle. your hips automatically began to buck into him, making your clit bump against his nose oh so perfectly.

“that’s it, baby, ride my face just like that-” he says breathlessly before diving right back in to your sweetness.

you felt one of his long fingers circle your sopping entrance before gently pushing into you, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. he created a rhythm with his tongue licking and sucking your clit, and his finger curling into your g spot. he soon added another finger, your knees nearly buckled from the amazing feeling.

overwhelmed with pleasure, your hands tugged on his hair, causing him to let out a low moan against your core. his cock was straining against his pants, desperately aching to be freed from its confines. though, he didn’t care about that, all he cared about was giving you the most jaw-dropping, toe-curling pleasure you’d ever experienced.

and that he did.

the way his tongue flicked against your sensitive nub sent small electric jolts throughout your body, not to mention the two fingers he had pumping in and out of you. all of the sensations he was giving you came together so amazingly, it was almost scary.

you clenched around his fingers as you neared your release, moaning his name as you practically humped his face. “that’s it, pretty girl, come on my face-” he said, his beautiful blue eyes watching your pleasured expressions as he ate and fingered your cunt.

your orgasm washed over you in harsh waves, nearly drowning you with the sudden, intense feelings of euphoria. your legs shook and you would’ve collapsed if it weren’t for satoru’s free arm holding you up securely.

he continued his ministrations on you, prolonging your orgasm. his tongue and fingers eventually slowed down to a stop, and his fingers gently pulled out of you, strings of slick still connecting him to you.

he made direct eye contact with you as he brought the two digits up to his mouth, engulfing them in the plush warmth and sucking the arousal off of them. he closed his pretty blue eyes with a groan at the taste of you, despite having just pressed his face against the source for a good while.

[moneypriestess]

It starts with the usual 'Justice League has to summon the Ghost King to battle a world-ending threat.' Stick. They decided to do it in the Fortress of Solitude, which took some time to convince Clark to do, but it was the only place that had the possibility to hold the Ghost King if he went off the rocks, especially with all the added protection John did.

So, most of the Justice Leaguers and their sidekicks stood on the outskirts of the giant summoning circle and watched as it glowed a bright luminescent green, and the middle of the circle disappeared, replaced by a hole that, from Superman's place as he hovered a few feet above the ground, looked like a never-ending waterfall of green liquid.

A few minutes passed as everyone held their breath before the waterfall started moving up. Like a volcano, the luminescent liquid shot up and hit the ceiling, falling into drops around everyone. From the water, a shadowy figure appeared, giant and making the water glow brighter with their presence.

For a few seconds after the glowing fountain continued erupting until stopping suddenly and falling back into the hole, a giant eldritch figure revealed as the hole closed up under it.

It looked sort of humanoid, but the most eye-catching thing was its skin. It looked like the galaxy—stars and constellations, planets, and meteors—the being looked like it was made from the galaxy. The stars and planets spun across its skin? And atop his head were wispy white locks, not held down by gravity and flowing with the air in the confined space. On his back was a long cape that reached the floor, and he (it? She? Did gods have a gender, because this being looked more like a god than Zeus did) bent his legs at an angle to not bump his head against the ice roof.

Everyone watched with bated breath as the king, the being, the god reached inside his cape and seemingly grabbed something, coming out with a clenched fist and slowly moving it towards the youngest Robin, the child. Batman barely had any time to swoop in front of his son when the eldritch being opened his hand, and right there, in his palm.

A lollipop.

A green crystal lollipop that made superman fall from his place in the sky and Jon back away from his friend with a pained expression.

The ghost king just gave robin a freaking kryptonite lollipop.

Meanwhile, danny is just wondering why the child touched by death won't take the treat.

[deadsetobsessions]

It takes a lot to break a ghost. After all, even death didn’t keep them down for long, not in any way that mattered.

There is, however, a sure fire way to utterly crush a ghost’s core without even touching it.

Find their grave, and defile it.

It is the height of cruelty. It is the ultimate act of disrespect. It is violation, of the deepest kind, an act that can never, ever be allowed to go unpunished.

As Danny stared at the remains of the toppled over rock tower that Tucker and Sam had made for him all those years ago, to honor his death, he wasn’t sure if he could survive this.

——

Please.

Zatanna looked around. The magician knew better than to write off the sound as a trick of her mind.

You have to help him. Please. He’s just a child.

“Who? What’s wrong?” Zatanna asked, heart aching for the grieving whispers of the young voice.

My brother. His grave. It’s been destroyed. Please.

Zatanna’s hair stood on ends. “What’s his name? Where is it?”

Amity Park. His name is Phantom. Please. Hurry.

Her heart skipped a beat. Phantom. The name of the Infinite Realm’s Champion, the future king.

“Shit. I’m on my way. Can you lead me there?”

I can’t. I won’t be here for much longer. Tell him Jazz sent you. Please. Help him. Help him.

“I will.”

When Zatanna portals out of her dressing room, she catches a flash of red hair.

——

“CONSTANTINE!”

“Gah! Zatanna?” John Constantine fell out of his chair, legs slipping from their place propped onto the table.

“Emergency! Infinite Realms level. Someone destroyed Phantom’s grave.”

Constantine scrambled upwards, pulling on his coat as his mind all but bleated like a highland goat at the sound of “Infinite Realms” and “Phantom’s grave.” Destroying a ghost’s grave might destroy the ghost, but if they survive the initial splintering, right before their final death, they’ll explode in a ball of fury. Normally, it would be slightly less of a problem. Normally, it wouldn’t be the most powerful ghost in the Infinite Realms. Normally, this wouldn’t happen. Normally, even if it did, it wouldn’t risk a war none of the universes would win. The Infinite Realms loves prince Phantom. Their grief over this… even if he survives, the consequences would be unimaginable.

“You contact the League. I have to go fix this, right now.”

John doesn’t bother going for his hottle, because he unfortunately needed to do this sober.

“Go, go!”

——

Danny doesn’t turn even as he hears the crunch of grass blades. He sits, staring blankly at what used to be his grave marker.

“Hi, there,” it’s a woman. She sounds sad. Danny understands, because all he feels is a whistling hole where his heart used to be. “Are you Phantom?”

Danny sighs, ice crackling at his lungs. He knows, when this is over, he’ll find it in himself to rage. If he doesn’t shatter from this, he knows he’ll take Amity out. Perhaps he’d spare this one. It’s been a long time since anyone bothered visiting or even knew about his grave.

“Your highness…your sister sent me. Jazz?”

That got Danny’s attention. Glowing green eyes peeked from the curled ball of ghost to stare Zatanna down.

She swallowed.

“She… had red hair?”

“Why are you here?” Why did she send you? He doesn’t say. Zatanna seems to understand anyways.

“To help. Please, will you let me help?”

Danny looks down at the ice freezing her feet to the ground and thinks of the kind set of her eyes, the steel backing her spine, the carefully nonthreatening posture. Yes, Jazz would send this kind of person to help him.

The ice melts.

“Thank you.”

Danny watches as she approaches his destroyed grave. She glances back for his permission. He shrugs. It’s destroyed. Nothing would ever bring it back.

And then, he was proven wrong.

Zatanna’s eyes glow, and the stones began melding itself back together- no, it was reversing the damage and zooming back to its proper place.

“Oh.”

The damage to his core was still there. But… he won’t kill this one at all.

Or her friends, who stand at the edge of the clearing with the soul-torn one standing at the helm.

“Is this… alright, your highness?”

Danny stares at Zatanna. His voice is hoarse but… but it’s not on the verge of insanity anymore.

“Do you always come to graves without an offering?”

He knows he’s being rude. He’s past the point of caring. Zatanna’s response is to pull a bouquet of lilies from behind her back.

——

Phantom’s face is so young, and it’s even younger when he smiles.

“Not always,” Zatanna replies, rolling her eyes. But when she settles the flowers down, they’re gently placed.

“Can you magic clovers around it?” Phantom asks, that note of painful hope cracking her own heart. She wonders how old he was when he died.

“Of course.”

A field of clovers surrounds the rock tower, and Zatanna adds four layers of heavy wards around the area when she grows them. Phantom notices, and looks up at her with… trust.

“I am Zatanna. Your sister, Jazz, sent me.”

“Okay. You can call me Phantom.”

——

“I want their heads.” Danny says.

“We don’t kill.”

“Then hand them over to us, for they have hurt the Great One. They will answer for their crimes.” Frostbite settles a hand on Danny’s shoulder.

“Alright.”

“Constantine.”

Constantine somehow manages to drag Batman away to hiss in his ears.

“Shit in a hole, Batsy, I’m not fucking with the Infinite Realms. My demons won’t fuck with the Infinite Realms. Destroying a ghost’s grave is an act of war, and an act of complete violation, and we’re lucky Phantom liked Zee enough not to completely bring ruin to our universe. So shut up, and get the bastards that did this.”

“Hm.”

——

Zatanna sits in the visitors chair, Batman’s and Constantine’s disgruntled selves standing behind her.

“How old are you, Phantom?”

“Hm?” The future King looks exhausted, understandably. “Oh, sixteen.”

“You’re… sixteen? That’s how old you look, right?”

She’s hoping that he’s older, that he’s a millennia and a half years old. Because if he wasn’t, whoever broke Phantom’s grave, broke the grave of a child.

“No, I’m sixteen. My body looks fourteen. I died when I was fourteen.”

Constantine swears.

Batman straightens and walks out, fists clenched.

Zatanna eases the hum of hunting magic at her finger tips and smiles at Phantom until he sleeps.

Then, she gets up, and hunts.

[bunnis-monsters]

Prettiest catch

Yandere!Merman x Fem!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober Event

Oct 3rd

Oct 2

Oct 4

warning: dubcon, yandere behavior, breeding, kidnapping

summary: you explore a cave by the beach and find an isolated spot to swim, but little did you know a merman that has been watching you for a while is waiting for you beneath the surface.

Hanging out at the beach in early October wasn’t the most fun activity you could have done, but it was either walk along the beach and pick up shells during the fall when no one was around, or go home and watch TV.

Getting some air was good for you, that’s what your therapist had said. A little adventure was something to get you out of your rut and help you explore new possibilities.

So that’s why when you saw a cave by the water, you decided… why not! You were bored, wanted to explore and if something happened, at least you didn’t have to go into work tomorrow.

You were glad you wore your wetsuit when you felt a wave crash against you up to your thighs. The cave didn’t seem to be that big, so you figured you’d take a peak then leave and go eat something warm before going back home and washing your shell collection.

The ground was slippery, so you hugged the wall and moved slowly. You knew you were clumsy, and as you moved further and further into the cave, you were beginning to question yourself.

Why had you gone in there?

No one knew where you were and if you weren’t careful, you could hurt yourself and possibly die. Your body would never be found, and your family would be left wondering where their daughter was for the rest of their lives…

But your mind cleared of these doubts almost instantly when you reached the end of the cave.

It was lit up by glowing plants, perhaps mushrooms growing on the walls. A pool of water, clear and clean was at the end… though the dark side at the end of the pool did spook you a little, you couldn’t help but be captivated by the beauty of it.

Little fish and sea creatures swam and floated in the pool, some bioluminescence. “Aren’t these type of fish usually very deep in the sea? I’ve only seen them in videos…”

You marveled at the creatures, dipping your finger into the pool. Some of them approached, giving your hand a light touch before swimming away.

“Aww…”

They seemed friendly enough, and the water was pretty warm! It made sense, the cave was humid enough.

So this led you to make a mistake. You stepped into the water, sighing in relief as the chill of the October day fade into a pleasant warmth.

But you noticed something… off. While wading through the water, suddenly all of the little creatures began to scurry away and hide. Had you scared them? Now you felt bad…

It hadn’t been you that scared them, though.

You felt eyes on you, a predatory gaze of some hungry creature. You were being measured up…

“… hello?”

You glanced to the dark corner, seeing the water ripple slightly. Suddenly, you saw a pair of yellow eyes, the light reflecting off of them.

“F-fuck!”

You’d heard of salt water crocodiles, they were aggressive and territorial, you certainly didn’t want to be in the water with one!

But within seconds you were pulled under water. Whatever was after you was fast enough to get across the pool of water and pull you under before you could even think.

Just as fast as you were pulled under, you were pulled back up. Something pushed you into the rocky surface of the cave, and your ass felt cold as your wetsuit was torn.

Were you about to be eaten alive? You’d rather drown than feel teeth sink into your flesh and tear you apart!

But instead your legs were being spread, something toying with your hole in an amateurish way as if studying you.

Moments later, your thigh was being lifted up and pulled to the side, rotating you just enough so you could see what had you in its grasp.

The creature had scaly skin, but a humanoid appearance. His teeth were sharp and bared in what almost seemed like an aggressive display, his dark eyes staring down at you with a predatory look.

“Quiet…”

Something rubbed against your cunt, covering you in a sticky, almost gooey slick. “Mine…”

A strange purring sound rumbled in his chest as he rubbed his webbed hand along your belly. “Little mate… watching you for so long… mine…”

You cried out as you were speared with his fat cock, teeth sinking into the sensitive flesh on your neck. It felt sticky and cold, being fucked by this strange merman creature…

“My pretty little thing…”

He had been watching you for months, biding his time until he had you close enough to take, to breed you and keep his pretty little catch all to himself.

Now he was cumming inside, his scaly body rubbing against you as he continued to fuck you through his high. Your warm, gummy walls felt more amazing than he could have ever thought.

And he would never let you go.

After you were nice and exhausted from being bred, he nipped at your through, his long tail swaying in the water as he carried you to a far away island.

No one would find you there, and he could keep you trapped while you grew his young in your soft belly.

——————

NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @spicyspicyliving @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @binnieonabike @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat

[rafeandonlyrafe]

handlebars

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, male and female receiving oral, face fucking, golf, rafe calling reader slut and whore but lovingly lol, established relationship, female masturbation kinda, bit of a dom/sub relationship but really its just rafes personality, semi public sex

“princess.” rafe presses a kiss to the top of your head as you're sat at your vanity, dabbing some blush onto your cheeks.

“mhm?” you tilt your head up, allowing rafe to press a kiss to your lips, not used to feeling your kiss without lipgloss, the next step in your makeup routine.

“if you're good for me and don't complain about being bored today, ill let you suck me off on the green.”

“really?” you squeal, turning to get a better look at rafe.

“yeah.” rafe nods. “but no complaining while we are golfing. topper will be joining me so you gotta wait until after we are done.”

“im gonna be so good rafey, promise.”

“i know you will, good girl.” rafe bends to give you another kiss. “finish getting ready, im gonna go load my clubs into the car.”

“mkay.” you nod. “love you, handsome.”

“i know you do, baby.” rafe smirks before leaving the room.

you turn back to your mirror, quickly finishing your makeup before getting an idea.

you part your hair down the middle before tying them into pigtails on either side, adding a pink ribbon around either hair tie, pulling a couple strands out to frame your face.

you skip down the stairs, dressed in your favorite golfing outfit. despite never playing and just watching rafe, you love to dress the part, wearing a tight white athletic tank top and a flouncy pink skirt, so short it shows off your matching pink underwear way too easily with just the slightest bend of your hips.

“shit.” rafe smiles up at you. “can't wait to strip those clothes off you later.”

“why thank you baby.” you give a twirl, showing off your outfit to rafe, knowing the ultimate compliment on your clothing is to tell you how much he wants to rip them off of you.

“im gonna have to kill top if he even looks at you with your tits out like this.” rafes arms wrap around your waist to pull you tightly against his front, lifting your feet up off the ground.

you wrap your legs around his hips, pressing sticky kisses and leaving pink gloss behind as rafe carries you outside, placing you in his passenger seat that has become yours, your name even added in rhinestones to the sun visor next to the mirror.

you hum along to rafes music and cycle between looking out the window and looking over at rafe as he drives, the muscles on his arms defining his every turn on the way to the country club.

“oh, there's toppers truck.” you point as rafe pulls into the parking lot, grumbling something about you knowing what his truck looks like before pulling into a spot.

you wait for rafe to walk around to open your door, helping you step down and keeping your hands held tight together as he grabs his clubs and slings them over one shoulder.

“hi topper.” you smile as you see him sat in a cart, quickly moving to the back as you approach.

“hey rafe.” topper says, completely ignoring your hello, but you know it's not due to being rude.

“no complaining, remember.” rafe says as you slide along the bench seat, making sure not to move too far so your thigh touches rafes as he gets in to drive.

“i remember.” you nod. “i will definitely not complain when i get really really super bored.”

rafe shakes his head, an unwilling smile growing on his face as he drops one hand down to your thigh, squeezing it so tightly you almost cry out before he releases and puts the cart into drive, speeding towards the first hole.

--

“i was so good, wasn’t i?” you turn your head to the side to look at rafe as he drops topper back at the parking lot.

“i mean, you started complaining when we played 18 holes instead of 9.” rafe tsks.

“okay, but only for like a second before i remembered! come on rafe,” you lean over him, placing your hand on his chest, fingers ghosting up and down to entice him. “don’t you want me to suck you off?”

“of course i do.” rafe captures your lips in a kiss, tugging you closer to his side as he takes off again, navigating the course to an isolated spot.

“finally.” you move to your knees on the cart, watching as rafe stands and walks to the passenger side of the cart, keeping his back towards the main part of the club just in case anyone comes by. 

you reach forward, tugging on rafe shorts, undoing the zipper and button and pulling the sides of his pants apart. you reach into his pants and pull his cock out from his underwear, already starting to harden.

“i love it when i get my mouth on you and you’re still soft.” you press kisses along his length, feeling it grow under your lips before placing the head of his cock into his mouth, swiping your tongue over the slit.

“you’re such a whore.” rafe laughs. “dressed up like a slut and now you’re acting like it too.” 

you just nod, not willing to take your mouth off his cock just to acknowledge how much of a slut you are for him. you both already know what the truth is. 

rafe hardens in your mouth as you begin to move your head up and down, building up a slow pace that allows you to enjoy the taste of his skin, tongue sliding along the underside of his length.

“faster, baby.” rafe taps your cheek.

you pull off and frown up at him. “let me enjoy sucking you off. you said you’d let me.” 

“yeah but i wanna see what you can do. impress me.” 

the challenge from rafe works immediately as you wrap your lips around his cock, head bobbing up and down a lot quicker now as you build up tolerance in your throat, rafes length and girth too much to take him all the way down immediately.

“that's my girl.” rafe smiles down at you. “doing so good baby.”

you take a deep breath through your nose and move forward, pushing your nose into rafes shirt as you swallow around his length, resisting the urge to smile as you hear rafe moan.

“fuck.” 

you squeeze your eyes shut, determined to keep his cock all the way down your throat for as long as you can.

“god, you just keep getting better at this darling.”

you pull off and drop your head to cough before smiling up at rafe. “wanna fuck my mouth now?”

rafe leans down to kiss your forehead. “im gonna put a ring on your finger one day baby, i swear.”

“you better.” you know you're still young, but you can't wait for the day you can call yourself mrs. cameron.

rafe straightens back up, smearing the head of his cock over your mouth, coating your lips in a second layer of gloss.

rafe grabs onto your pigtails as your mouth opens, keeping your throat as slack as you can as his hips push forward.

rafe moves your head in unison with his thrusts, fingers knotting around the pink ribbon to keep his grip.

you have to reach forward and place your hands on his thighs to keep from falling forward, your knees no doubt turning bright red as they scrape back and forth with the power of his movements.

rafe doesn't bother holding back his moans as he tugs on your pigtails, hips undulating and rocking, hoping he's far enough from anyone else to hear his groans and gasps of your name.

“next will be your pussy.” rafe smirks down at you. “as soon as we get home im getting in that delicious little cunt of yours.”

you moan around his cock, thighs squeezing together as you think of all the times rafes been inside of you.

rafe tugs your pigtails, holding them like handlebars on a bike as his cock grows in your mouth. he wishes he could go for longer, to fuck your mouth for hours, but the thought of getting home to your pussy makes him too excited to hold himself back.

“gonna cum right down your throat.” rafe says, grunting as his hips speed up. “unless you want me to paint your pretty face for everyone to see.”

you moan again, the sound vibrating around rafes cock as your hand drops to your pussy, pressing over your underwear to give your clit some relief.

“you like that huh?” rafe questions. “want everyone at the country club to see my cum dripping down your face?”

you push your hand under your panties, rubbing at your wetness, a finger plunging into your heat.

“hey, cut that out.” rafe tugs on your pigtails. “you can rub your clit but don't open up your cunt for me. that's my job.”

you groan but move your fingers back to your clit, leaving your pussy to clench around nothing.

“don't worry, bunny.” rafe pats your cheek. “you'll be bouncing on something soon enough.”

rafe moans as your tongue flicks over the underside of his length, throat constricting as you swallow along his cock.

“fuck, close.” rafe warns, pumping his hips forward with renounced speed. 

rafes cock swells in your mouth and there's mere seconds before he releases, cum spurting down your throat.

“fuck!” he moans, giving one last thrust before pulling out.

you take a deep breath, hand still moving on your pussy as rafe breaths deeply, checking over his shoulder before tucking his softening cock back into his pants.

“stop that.” rafe hums, eyes dropping to between your legs.

“im so close.” you whine, keeping your fingers thrumming over your clit.

“yeah, and i wanna be the one to make you cum so stop.”

rafe picks you up and places your bum on the seat, frowning when he sees your knees. he presses kisses to each of the red splotches.

rafe pushes your thighs open next, pulling your hand out of your underwear as he tugs them to the side.

you didn't expect rafe to surge forward, mouth greedily eating your cunt, slurping on your wetness.

“fuck!” you squeal, head falling back as he focuses in on your clit, sucking with the taste of you on his tongue, sticking it out to flick over your clit.

“im- im gonna cum!” you warn, fingers tangling in his hair, pressing his face further into your cunt.

his mouth keeps working as you reach your high, moaning out rafes name as your clit pulses against his tongue.

he moves lower to press against your entrance, briefly dipping in. “gonna fuck you so soon.” he whispers, and you swear it's more to your cunt than it is to you.

“shit.” you fall back against the seat as rafe rearranges you, flinching when his hand brushes against your clit while putting your panties back in place.

“better not be sensitive by the time we get home.” rafe says, flipping your skirt back down to cover you before he shrugs. “or be sensitive, im fucking you either way.”

“you're such a dick.” you giggle as rafe drops his head to kiss you, lips melting together, the shared taste on your tongue mixing.

“love you.” he says. “future wifey. you give the best head.”

“wow, thanks.” you roll your eyes sarcastically, hands moving to your pigtails as rafe rounds the cart to drive back.

“you know, you really messed up my hair.” you frown, attempting to fix your bows without a mirror to look in.

“yeah, you can't wear that style again.” rafe looks over at you. “unless you want me to fuck your face every time.”

“well…” you tap your chin, a smile growing.

[aurumalatus]

kinich x fem!reader, nsfw, don't ask me how nightsoul's blessing works this is just horny posting, spitting, cum eating

kinich who loves extreme sports so damn much. he loves the way it makes his skin prickle, adrenaline pulsing through his veins and rushing through his blood. he chases the feeling, seeing just how far he can push himself, testing the absolute limits of his boundaries.

sometimes, he seeks out that feeling in different ways.

he seeks it out in the rush of the hunt—fighting by your side, soaring through the air and striking the ground with his greatsword. when it's all said and done, he watches you patch yourself up, thumbing at a drop of blood on your lip.

the sight makes his cock twitch in his pants.

and really, he can't help himself—the remnants of nightsoul burst leave his skin hot, burning, and sometimes he just needs a way to release that energy. he watches as you wipe the sweat from your brow, the hem of your shirt riding up and showing a sliver of skin.

he flexes his fingers, breathing out slow.

yeah, he has a lot of energy left.

you're used to it, too, when he gets like this. he's usually so gentle when he makes love to you, soft smiles and brushing touches that always feel like your first time. it's when you go on the hunt together that he gets this needy, this deprived. so, you're not surprised when he pulls you behind one of the trees nearby, already grabbing at your clothes and tearing them off.

you're so cute underneath him too, shivering and writhing at his touch. he bites at your shoulders, at your collarbones, smirking when fresh marks rise on your skin.

he forgets about the time so easily, losing himself in your pussy—it's so warm and tight and only for him. you cum once, then twice, your hole fluttering around him, but he's still not done.

your nails rake down his back, and it stings in a good way. you're begging mindlessly, for what even you don't know, but he likes it that way.

"i know baby, i know," he says, growls, "just give me one more."

"k—kinich," you whine, and it only makes him fuck you harder. he squeezes at your cheeks, forcing your mouth open so he can kiss you, slipping his tongue inside. it's messy, and he swallows up every delicious moan that you give him, then spits on your tongue for good measure.

his skin is still burning. the glowing lines of his nightsoul's blessing flicker over his skin, and you feel his grip tighten over your hips. he's insatiable when he's like this, you think vaguely—can barely think at all. his blessing makes him stronger, makes every thrust hit you deeper.

"g'nna cum," he hisses through his teeth, pounding you with so much force that you have to brace yourself against the tree trunk—even then, it feels like it might snap. "you want it?"

his hand slides down your body, grabbing at your ass roughly, then toying with your clit. your mind nearly goes blank.

"yes! want it, kinich, please," you breathe, your lips only capable of forming his name. your words seem to send him over the edge, and his eyes roll back as his cock twitches inside you.

"archons, fuck!"

the nightsoul's blessing nearly burns you with its radiance, pulsing off of him in white-hot waves. his cum is hot too, filling you up fast, and he sighs at the feeling—at the feeling of making you his.

"that's it," he breathes into your neck, then leaves a small kiss there, still shallowly fucking into you, "take it, baby."

you don't reply, too fucked out to say anything at all. you only look up at him with glassy, needy eyes that make something flare in his chest. he could fuck you again if you keep looking at him like that.

the sight of his cum dripping out of you only adds on to the feeling, and he scoops a bit of it onto his fingers, pressing them to your lips. you suck on his fingers gratefully, eyes fluttering shut with delight.

kinich sighs.

he needs to go hunting with you more often.

[lustkillers]

Would love to see some content for Simon from Dinner in America or Colin Gray, you’re more than welcome to pick the subject matter, preferably female reader

｡ﾟ･ ୨୧ . i owe you a black eye and two kisses.

⊹₊ ⋆ summary. - oh, how he's missed his girl during his time away.

⊹₊ ⋆ pairing - simon / john q x fem!reader

✶ c.w. - nsfw freaky deaky time!! hard?dom simon, sub!reader, unprotected sex (WRAP IT UP.), p in v, car sex (in a volkswagen beetle...), public sex, STOMACH BULGE!!! facial, throat fucking-ish, degradation—but also praise, cowgirl position, overstimulation, hair pulling, very cutesy fic... (let me know if i missed anything!)

⊹₊ ⋆ note - back from the dead (laziness) and kicking it!! i hope i did this request justice as i haven’t written in so long… WHOOPS. its been literally ages since i wrote smut so i apologize if i’m rusty as hell doing this… PLEASE FORGIVE ME. anywho… LUSTKILLERS IS SO BACK BABY 🙂‍↕️

requests are open! <3

THE night was cold and you couldn't be more bored out of your mind. the windows of your red volkswagen beetle were down, the distinguished smell of the car gas filling the air around you. your leg bounced, the keys that consisted of plenty of keychain accessories clinking against each other, and your eyes traced over the rusty, tall fence that you probably counted all the diamond-shaped holes between each steel bar. how long have you been here? an hour? hour too early?

at the rate of biting at your own cheek unconsciously, there was probably a dent that was left inside your cheek from how much you've bit down on it. turning your palms over was a nightmare; your hands glistening with sweat from anticipation. you wanted to look the best. you wanted everything to be perfect.

you couldn't even remember how he ended up here; maybe you blocked it out. slightly tragic on your end, watching as your boyfriend was cuffed and put into the back of a cop car, the last thing you experienced together was your fingers loosely holding a cigarette for him. that feeling left you empty... and a bit sexually frustrated, due to the fact that he had promised to fuck you real good after his performance.

a masculine silhouette stood at the goddamned fence that you loathed, your eyes shooting up at the whirring sound of the mechanical fence sliding to the right, leaving the figure to leave. you let go of the cigarettes that laid in the cupholder, your slippery hands moving to unlock your car.

with a frustrated yell, you quickly wiped your hands on the seats on your car, restoring the dryness that easily helped you unlock your god forsaken car. you opened the door, ducking under the slight top ledge that you've hit your head on plenty of times. you were giddy like a child receiving their gifts on their birthday– squealing as you shut the door behind you and stood in front of the driver's side door, bouncing on the tips of your toes, and a smile spread across your face.

simon had that stupid smirk on his face, scruff all over his face, and his hair slightly grown out from the last time you saw him. he also had the same clothes on from the last time, the green jacket and black pants with the boots. it felt like the first time all over again, and god, that outfit made your pussy throb, and your knees were moments away from bucking and landing onto the dirt ground.

"didn't i tell you to get rid of that goddamn car? looks stupid, the ladybug print and all." simon said gruffly, a slight smirk creeping onto the corners of with lips, his siren-like eyes peering down at you.

you looked up at him with a slight pout and doe eyes, "i think it looks cute." you mumbled in defense. his eyes gleamed with a predatory look on you. cute, he thought. but what left his lips was just a mere scoff, his smirk turning into a smile... which was still somehow intimidating if you think about it.

"looks like a kiddie car, that's what it looks like." he taunted, making you playfully roll your eyes.

you huff, "i'm gonna punch you in the face... leave a black eye while i'm at it." your voice taunting, yet not really sincere. he only chuckled in response, "c'mere." he moved towards you, his lips swinging down to kiss yours, kissing away the pout that now disappeared.

his rough, big hands wandered towards your ass, gripping it with no intent of letting go. simon's kisses were one of a man deprived of lust and yearning, and he wasn't planning to let your breathe for air. his hands roamed around your backside, his feet pushing you back towards the silly-looking car, his right hand pulling at the door handle, swinging the door open.

simon's eyes opened from the kiss, his frustration growing from the lack of the backdoors your car had. he let out a groan, his lips unlatching from yours, his jaw clenching as he softly moved you aside, bringing the drivers seat forward so you two could hop in the back. his pants strained against his bulge, and the whine that left your lips made it even worse.

"give me a moment doll, your car is pissing me off." he grumbled, watching his head as he hopped into the small car, with you behind him, closing the door. he was sitting with his legs spread, you in front of him with little to no space at all, on your knees, which were already feeling rough from the material of the bottom the car.

you and simon made no time to push down your pants, his hands unbuckling the shiny belt that clinked once it unfastened from his waist, and your hands helped slide them down, his thick, long cock springing free, and you could've sworn your eye twitched at the sight. with the way he looked down at you and the non-existent space you left between your face and his cock, the feeling between your thighs released itself like a flood; your thighs pressing together in instinct.

"god, if you don't hurry it up, i might take matters into my own hands." he groaned out, swallowing dryly as his hands gripped at your hair; making you squeak out a quick 'sorry,' and your tongue quickly laid flat against the side of his cock; a hiss escaping simon's pretty lips. "fuck," he groaned.

you worked your way around his cock, your head bobbing up and down, trying your best to keep eye-contact with him as you bobbed. spit drooled down the sides of your mouth; the liquid pooling at the base of his cock, slowly sliding down his strained balls; the sounds of his grunts and low groans filling the small car.

he felt your right hand shift towards your sopping pussy; mewls leaving your lips as you rubbed your clit, heightening your senses, but also making you focus less on working his cock. simon noticed it, his grip on your hair turning into a makeshift lever, the control reeling to him as he started to guide your head up and down, his cock spearing at the back of your throat, hitting past the uvula. the feeling made you gag, spluttering more spit around his cock, the sight being messy as ever. he pulled your head from his cock, your right hand leaving your clit in response, and as your lips left his cock, it making you gasp out in air; your eyes watering from the intense throat-fuck that was definitely going to leave you sore, along with your poor legs that were soon to fall victim to his fucking.

"si, give me a moment–" you squealed, making simon laugh as he pulled you up onto his lap, laughter leaving from both your lips. "tryna get me put in jail again, doll? fuckin' in front of the prison i just got out of?" he smirked, his forehead touching yours.

"not my fault, si– oh!" you hum in response, which quickly turned into a gasp– which finally turned into a moan, his cock knowingly filling your tight walls. his hips piston upwards, his cock hitting the deepest part of your cunt. his hands held at your hips, guiding you up and down on his cock, creating a white, creamy ring around the base.

the car windows immediately fogged up, heat and sweat glistening on both your bodies, the occasional cocky laugh simon let out settled into your ears, making you shiver. your hips worked at a sensual speed, grinding and bouncing, alternating between the two, moans spilling from your lips.

his lips shut your moans up for a bit, before pulling away and murmuring, "so pretty bouncing on my cock, like the slut you are." he smiled against your shoulder, placing a kiss against it as he looked at you, babbling and panting. "feel that?" he whispered, pressing down on the bulge his cock made in your stomach, immediately making you start to crumble.

you looked at him, your hips started to falter and grow slower, your legs tired and your thighs shaking as the pressure built up, waiting to burst out. but you tried to keep your pace going, your hands on his chest as you whimpered.

your lips tried to form a sentence, only letting out broken words. "c–cum... i needa– hmph!" you cry out, feeling the vibrations of simon's chuckle. "can i–?" you whimpered, moments away from crying in frustration.

his lips captured yours once again, making you come undone. you came around his cock, clenching as your thighs tried to close at the feeling; high-pitched moans leaving your lips as you were sent into a fruitful bliss. "haah–! t-thank you, si!" you sigh, your hips stuttering, still lazily grinding, praying to god that simon finds his release, or you'd probably lose it.

simon groaned, nearing his release as he fucks up into you, your overstimulated pussy weeping and soaking. "m'gonna cum," he exhaled, and at his words– he came, but he planned to cum on your face, his hands making quick–but safe work, one shot of cum shooting inside your cunt, and when you blink, you're already on your knees, hot spurts of his warm cum hitting your face, your eyes closing. he let out a hoarse breath, "that was fuckin' tits," he laughed, hunched over. his cock started to soften, his hands making quick work and grabbed the cigarette pack and paper towel that sat inside the cup holder. he ripped a piece of paper towel, wiping your face... decently clean, but it was the effort that counted.

your eyes fluttered open to look at him, a smirk on his face as a lit cigarette hung from his lips, his rough hands cupping your face and stroking his thumb across your fucked-out cheeks. "you're one of a kind, y'know that?" he let out a sigh, fixing your clothes back on you, and pulling you up to straddle him again sharing a kiss, which tasted like cigarettes, but you didn't mind. you never had a problem with him and he never had a problem with you. the world revolved around you both and nobody else. his eyes twinkled at the sight of your eyes, and his face softened.

"ditto." you whispered, smiling.

[fakeuwus]

MANEATER | SIM JAEYUN (M)

PAIRING: virgin!jake x yn (femreader)

SYNOPSIS: in which jake is tired of being a virgin and you're asked to help him out.

WARNINGS: smut so MDNI! vrignity loss, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex (be safe out there), creampie, riding, multiple orgasms, etc. cursing, words like slut/whore, BARELY PROOFREAD

WC: 5k, lowercase intended

MESSAGE FROM NIC: here it finally is!! (sorry for the delay) my first piece of smut,,, hope it's what everyone imagined 😁 (also tysm for 2k notes on the teaser ahh!!) big thank u to my stella, @karinasbaby for encouraging this fic, one of my biggest supporters ilysm. pls be kind as this is something new for me BUT feedback is super appreciated, tell me what u liked and didn't like! (respectfully) also reblogs would be nice as well so feel free to drop one. love u guys sm 🫶🏼

jake sim was a virgin. a pitiful, pitiful virgin. and it’s not like he was ugly. not even close to that. jake was an attractive guy, easy on the eyes. and his flirting? a real smooth talker he was.

it was as if 2000s chad michael murray possessed his very soul every single time he would chat up a girl at a party or in class. 

so why couldn't he ever close the deal? how did he find himself in a steamy makeout session one second and then the next the girl is storming out of the room in disgust. every. single. time.

oh yea, because he was a fucking virgin. a pitiful, pitiful virgin. 

it seemed like girls these days wanted a man in charge. someone who could help them live out their fifty shades of grey fantasies. jake would like to think he could do that for them but how could he ever learn if no one wanted to give him the time of day? what happened to the girls that would spread their legs for anything and anyone?

all jake needed was one chance. one chance to stick his dick in a hole and he can move on with his life. 

his friends didn't make it any better either. he was getting tired of hearing all about their wild sexcapades every week and having nothing to contribute to the conversation.

but they don’t intentionally leave him out or make him feel bad about his lack of experience. they even try getting him with their past hookups because you know, sharing is caring right? 

“dude no way you fumbled sora. she’s a real slut i was so sure she would let you hit,” sunghoon says as he’s unwrapping his sandwich then taking a bite. “bro i didn't fumble anything. it's the same shit every time, once i tell them im a virgin they dip,” jake responds while he steals sunghoon’s sandwich and takes a bite for himself.

sunghoon doesn't even argue, his best friend is clearly in distress and is need of some food. “she started ranting about how she doesnt “do” virgins because they get attached and she thinks im gonna become obsessed with her or something.”

“why do you even tell them you’re a virgin in the first place? if that's the issue why even say anything at all?” heeseung questions with a mouth full of the same sandwich that somehow now ended up in his hands.

“because if he cums in .2 seconds then the girls are gonna think he’s a bad fuck. there's no winning here.” jake nods in agreement with jay's statement as he watches jay snatch the sandwich from heeseung and finish it off.

this is what is so beautiful about their friendship. they share everything with each other, the main things being girls and food. unfortunately for jake, bites of food is all he gets.

—-----------------

“oh fuck!” jakes pants while bucking his hips forward. vision blurry, drool pooling around the corner of his mouth. he genuinely feels like his soul is leaving his body and he wasn’t sure this was even real life anymore. to ground himself and bring him back to reality, he tries looking around the room to find something to distract him.

he doesn’t want to cum embarrassingly fast and he does NOT want to be seen as a bad fuck. out of the corner of his eye he spots a baby yoda squishmallow in the corner of the room, its sparkly eyes watching jake get his dick sucked for the first time.

it’s kind of weird but he finds comfort in the plushie and focuses on it to keep him from fucking exploding. 

now you might be wondering how he got here. in a hot girl’s room getting what he swears is the best head in his life (not that he has anything to compare it to.) the answer is jay, his best friend in the entire world who he now owes his first born to. 

“her name’s yn. just text her and ask when she wants to meet. i told her you were a virgin already so don’t worry about that,” jay explains as he’s scrolling through your profile showing jake what you look like.

silky, flowy hair, curves to die for. to say you’re gorgeous would be an understatement. the whole ordeal seemed too good to be true.

“she wants to fuck me? even after hearing i’m a virgin?” jake asks after grabbing his milk tea from the counter and walking towards a table.

jay simply nods and throws a look towards sunghoon, signaling him to explain the rest as they all take a seat. “yea that’s kind of her thing. she loves virgins. like, her body count consists of only virgins.”

jake was perplexed by the situation. surely he’d hear about a beautiful woman who only drops her panties for inexperienced guys roaming their campus.

heeseung then speaks up, as if reading jake’s mind, “she goes to the college in the next town over. around a 20 minute drive.” before continuing his sentence he shifts his eyes towards jay and sunghoon. eyeballs darting back and forth.

some unspoken dialogue is happening between the three as they sip their sweet drinks and jake just has to sit there and watch. minutes go by and jay clears his throat and sighs, finally breaking the silence.

“she uh, actually took all of our virginities back in high school. that’s how we know her.” 

pause. the fuck? he knew his friends all have gotten their dicks wet for the same girl before but at the same time? jake couldn’t believe what he was hearing. i mean, he did only just meet them three years ago, whatever they were up to before then he can’t judge.

he supposes desperate times call for desperate measures, and jake is sure he would’ve ended up in the same situation soon if they weren’t handing you on a silver platter to him.

“so… you guys had a foursome for your first times??”

heeseung instantly chokes on his boba as jake’s arm receives a punch from jay. a faint giggle is heard from sunghoon, “this bitch is choking on some balls.”

ignoring heeseung’s dramatics jay clarifies, “no you idiot, she took all of our virginities separately. we weren’t as desperate as you were.”

“and like, that pussy is so heavenly. i’d be pissed having to share her with another guy at the same time.” 

“roger that, brother.”

jake looks towards the two, sunghoon rubbing heeseung’s back trying to calm him down from his almost near death over some balls. 

“care to elaborate?” 

“man why do you think we’re all sex crazed freaks? her pussy’s got some voodoo magic in it or something. our manhood didn’t begin when we watched porn for the first time together, it started with her,” jay pauses and shifts in his seat, slight discomfort in his lower region.

he looks up and pinches his nose, “fuck i’m getting hard just thinking about it.” sneaking a peek at jay’s lower half, jake can see his friend chubbing it up in his pants. nothing he’s never seen before honestly. 

but what he hadn't seen before was how his friends were reminiscing so hard on a hook up the way they were right now. and the fact that their origin story of discovering their high libidos is all because of you? he was scared shitless of what he was about to get himself into.

-------------------

fast forward to some exchanged texts between you guys, jake found himself in your room with his pants around his ankles getting the life sucked out of him.

he quickly discovered you were very straightforward and to the point, immediately sending him your apartment address and what time to show up.

jake couldn’t argue though, all this talk about how you were gonna “change his life” and shit got him real worked up. he appreciated the fact that you skipped the small talk and went straight for his dick.

upon arriving and stepping into your living space, your lips smashed onto his and he was pushed down onto the bed. no hi, no hello. just your lucious, full lips swapping spit with his.

his hands instinctively flew to your waist, his digits gripping your plush skin as you straddle him. jake felt so in his element in the moment. making out? this is where he excels. he could do this all day if he could.

but he was here on a mission and he’ll be damned if he leaves without fucking you. or you fucking him. he was honestly down for whatever. you could ask to peg him and he would say yes.

you can sense his impatience, his face twisting in pleasure trying to savor every moment while the cogs are turning in his head, awaiting your next move. every squeeze he gave signaled that he wanted to get things moving.

you make your way down his body, peppering kisses any and everywhere leaving his skin burning. jake couldn’t believe what was about to happen.

in less than a minute he was about to get his first blowjob ever. what does he do? where do his hands go? what if he chokes you? what if he passes out from the stimulation?

before he can think of anymore what to do’s and what if’s, your mouth is on his dick and jake is seeing stars, figuratively and literally. he takes note of the little ones taped to your ceiling and thinks it’s cute.

the pink walls and plushies surrounding the two of you is such a stark contrast to your personality, or what little jake knows of you. but hey, he likes a woman with some duality to her.

“you can put your hands in my hair.”

jake finally takes a look down at you. pupils blown out, lips a bit swollen from all the sucking. you looked so, so pretty like this. he can only imagine what you look like with his cock in you.

trembling hands grab at your hair, slightly pushing you further down and a gagging noise emerges from the back of your throat. oh shit. your nose is practically meeting his pelvic bone and you aren’t letting up.

fuck it, jake thinks to himself. he was done with being patient. he starts fucking up into your mouth relentlessly, chasing the orgasm he was delaying. and you just let him.

you’re merely a hole for him in this moment and you could care less. his dick may be average in size but the girthiness of it was so delicious, you couldn’t get enough.

to make sure he reaches his high, you reach for his balls and start playing with them. his erratic thrusts combined with you squeezing his genitals he twitches in your mouth and his cum is shooting out, pooling out the sides of your lips.

and you don’t stop there. you keep going and going and jake actually feels like he’s going to pass out. “okay, okay please please!” you swallow everything he gave you and finally let him go with a pop to come up for air.

you get up and see him lying there on your bed, unmoving. eyes closed and mouth agape barely taking breaths. one might think he’s dead but this was typical.

once a guy gets to cum in a girl’s mouth for the first time they don’t know what to do with themselves. nudging him with your knee he breaks out of his trance with a lopsided smile adorning his face. god he’s adorable.

before you can suggest a break he immediately grabs you by the hips and flips you onto your back. your shorts go flying onto the floor behind him and he spreads your legs wide to prop them onto his shoulders.

his tongue immediately attaches to your clit and he starts licking you all over. slurping and sucking, as if this was his last meal on earth. he was desperate to get you to cum the way you made him and it was showing.

jake’s eating you out a little too expertly to your liking, as if he’s done this a million times. you won’t judge if he has, you’re literally the last person to judge someone’s sexual history but how is he still a virgin if he eats pussy this good?

he must’ve been met with horrible women who just used him for his mouth and left him dry. you wouldn’t do that to him though, poor guy doesn’t deserve that.

he inserts two fingers into your hole while his mouth was still working your clit. jesus christ. you didn’t notice before but his fingers were so slender and long, reaching places your own didn’t. “am i doing okay? kind of my first time.”

oh? so this was his first time eating pussy. you simply give him a nod of approval, not being able to utter a word as he dives right back in.

in all of your sexual encounters, never has there been a guy so willing to return the favor. and the fact that you didn’t even have to ask? where the fuck did jay find a guy like this? was he aware his friend was a fucking certified munch?

determined to make sure you cum, jake inserts another finger and moves his fingers in an upward motion, trying to find your spot. at least that’s what wikihow told him how to do it.

the sound of your moans and the taste of your pussy on his tongue simply feel amazing and he feels like he could come alone like this. at this point you’re panting and riding his fingers and god it’s so hot. you’re so hot.

jake finds himself humping into the mattress, trying to aid his painful hard on he’s grown since going down on you.

his wrist begins to ache with how fast he’s pumping into you but he doesn’t give a fuck, he’ll do anything to see what you look like when you reach your high.

“oh god, i’m, i’m- ahhh!” you come undone onto his mouth and hand, lips forming an o shape with the most pornographic moan he’s ever heard and he silently releases his load along with you onto the bed.

jake makes sure every single drop of your delicious juices are all licked up, driving your oversensitivity.

“so? how was i?”

you take a look at his annoyingly cute face and he’s licking all over his fingers like a lollipop. cute. gaining some of your composure, your eyes spot a wet spot on your sheets.

“wait, did you…”

“oh. sorry about that. i couldn’t help it.” jake explains with a sheepish smile and a scratch behind his head. not only is this guy a munch but he came untouched while tongue fucking you. you weren’t even sure guys like him existed, like at all.

without speaking another word, you grab the back of his neck and smash your lips onto his. tasting yourself on him has you wet all over again and you both begin to undress each other.

you detach yourself to take your shirt off and he pauses to fully look at you, drinking in every inch of your body. hands grab at your boobs and he pinches a nipple, a small moan escaping your mouth.

your body was literally to die for, the pictures on your profile barely doing you justice. and to finally be able to feel all around your curves and give your boods and ass tight squeezes was a dream come true for jake.

(he may or may not have been jerking off to the few posts you have up, counting down the days of you guys finally meeting but you didn’t have to know that)

you also took a moment to admire his body. to say jake was sculpted like a fucking greek god was an understatement, sporting a six pack and biceps to die for. veins running all over his arms and hands.

deciding it’s finally time to do the deed, you switch positions and motion for him to lay on his back. “are you ready?”

“wait! what about a condom?”

“i’m clean and i know you are so…”

“right.”

you throw your legs over his waist, now straddling him with your vagina inches from his cock. “okay, take deep breaths. i’m gonna slowly go down alright?”

jake throws a thumbs up and eagerly nods. in a moment like this he doesn’t fail to be endearing. you could literally just eat him up with how cute he was. your pussy was about to anyway.

you lace your fingers with his and slowly lower yourself onto him. there’s some intimacy with your actions and jake finds comfort in your eyes, looking at him adoringly.

it was finally fucking happening and jake couldn’t believe it. he was about to become a man. and the fact that it was you taking his virginity, a gorgeous woman who doesn’t care that he’s inexperienced and lets him hit it raw. it's really all he can ask for.

once your walls are wrapped around his tip, jake’s a goner. the little sweet moment you two shared is thrown out the window and he starts bucking his hips up into you, hard and fast.

his hands find purchase on your hips and he’s gripping them so hard you're sure there will be bruises tomorrow. you wanted to start out slow as it is his first time but it seems his thrusting says otherwise.

you press your hands against his chest and begin to move rhythmically in sync with him. jake’s eyes immediately roll back and his breathing quickens.

his hands fall to his side and he lays lifeless beneath you, letting you take full control.

all he could do was stare at the spot where his dick entered you and it was making him even more hornier. he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.

your wetness didn’t help anything either. the squelching sounds indicated that you were very much enjoying this as much as he was.

“fuck you feel so good baby,” jake moans. the pet name that slips past his lips and it doesn’t go unnoticed but you also don’t question it.

for some reason the simple word made your heart jump. guys always called things like babe or even whore when they really let loose.

those never got to your head, you know they couldn’t really control themselves in the moment and you let them have their fun.

but jake has been nothing but kind to you this whole time, like he knew you were doing him a service and not the other way around.

this only fueled your desire to ensure that his sure first time exceeded his expectations so upped your menstrations. you quickly changed your pace to grind forward, backwards, and in circles making sure his dick felt every inch of you.

jake’s mind was reeling, his breath caught in his throat. he feels as if his dick was about to fall off with the way you were moving.

your body leans forward and you begin to kiss at his neck, leaving hickeys everywhere. your hot breath near his ear sends him into overdrive, must be a sensitive spot of his he never knew he had, but also how could he have known?

his hands that were once gripping the sheets meet your ass and he starts to guide you up and down his cock. you both were about to reach your climaxes, your pussy clenching with every move.

“i’m- where? fuck! where do i cum?”

“inside. cum inside me please.”

inside?? his first time cumming from sex and you were gonna let him do it inside of you? jake swears you couldn’t be any more perfect than you are right now.

you knew you threw him for a loop and honestly yourself as well. pushing these thoughts towards the back of your head you start riding him aggressively, even faster than before. “fuck, jake i’m cumming!”

“me too baby oh my god!”

and there was that damn pet name again. it makes your heart leap out of your chest and sends you over the edge.

the knot in your stomach snaps and jake follows shortly after, his load shooting into you. it pools out of you and you don’t hesitate to swipe some up with a delicate finger and bring it to your mouth, mirroring his actions from earlier.

your eyes meet his fucked out ones and you smile down at him, admiring the masterpiece of lovebites you left all over him. his vision was a bit blurry but he catches the way your lips curled upward, flashing your pearly whites.

jake finds himself instantly becoming hard again, call him easy but when a pretty girl is smiling at him like that after fucking him, can you really blame him?

you move yourself off of him and jake was fully expecting you to kick him out now but instead you position yourself on all fours, your ass in the air inviting him in.

“fuck. you’re into anal?”

you turn your head sharply to look at him over your shoulder, raising an eyebrow to question what he just said. the look you give him says it all and jake takes the hint and positions himself behind you.

“can we try anal next time though?”

an exasperated sigh leaves your lips and you reach over to grab his dick, inserting him into you. “umph! okay sorry.”

upon entering your pussy, jake relishes in the feeling of it. being inside your heat again leaves him breathless for the nth time today.

in and out. in and out. he tries to match his breathing with his gradual strokes. his member is extra sensitive right now and he’s trying not to lose himself. the impatience he had earlier has now moved onto you so you decide to take matters into your own hands and start fucking back into him.

your ass is now meeting his hips and the sound of skin slapping echoes in your room along with your moans. jake’s body is flailing from the sudden impact but he grounds his hands around your waist and grips the shit out of you.

he notices bruises forming on your skin but he can’t for the life of him let go. oops. he’ll do his best to remember to apologize for them tomorrow.

when there’s a good pace between the two of you, you fling yourself upward, back meeting his chest and the new angle has him reaching spots he didn’t before.

you take one of his strong arms and place it around your neck, having him choke you as you ride him like there’s no tomorrow. jake’s brain begins to turn to mush and he feels like he’s even more turned on at the revelation of one of your kinks.

and at this point you’re fucking onto him so hard, so good, he didn’t want it to end. “shit. shit. i love your pussy so much baby.” jake whines into your ear, meaning every word he said.

is it crazy to say you love someone upon meeting them for the first time? well, their pussy. yea. maybe. but who gives a fuck.

he was a man possessed by you, by your pussy. in this moment he truly believed there was some voodoo magic going on down there and he was blessed to be experiencing it.

you clench at his words, and your heart flips once more, prompting you to draw him closer to you (if that was even remotely possible)

the closeness of your bodies creates another intimate moment shared, kisses stolen from one another, hands tangled in his hair.

“i’m close,” he whispers in your ear, his breath leaving tingles down your spine. the hushed whispers you exchange contrast the sporadic thrusting that’s happening.

determined to reach your second high of the day, you push jake onto his back and settle yourself onto your knees, continuing to bounce up and down on his cock.

“yea just like that baby, shit shit shit i’m cumming, i’m cumming!”

jake opens his eyes to watch the scene unfold before him and god was it something. your back arches as you take his cum in you once more and your screams fill his ears, signaling you orgasmed right after him.

this moment alone is better than porn itself, and jake savors every bit of it. there’s absolutely no way he can even bring himself to type “nsfw” in his twitter search bar ever again after this.

you hover yourself over him leaving just the tip inside before sliding right back down, pushing his seed back in while it gushes around his cock leaving jake wanting, no needing, a third round with you.

but to his dismay you roll yourself off of his body, landing on the mattress next to him.

“so… how do you feel?”

he releases a long exhale he didn’t know he was holding, “fantastic. 10/10 experience. would do it again.” you simply giggle at his response with a shake of your head, getting up to gather your clothes.

“wait! um, could we do this again?”

you playfully roll your eyes at him, leaving his question unanswered as you begin to dress yourself.

—-----------------

sat in his computer chair, jake is finding it difficult to finish this stupid ethics assignment. how is he supposed to argue about the death penalty when you straight up almost murdered him with your pussy less than 2 hours ago?

he’s sure his professor wouldn’t appreciate if he wrote that he doesn’t give a fuck about someone serving their punishment if the culprit was you, but honestly speaking he’d let you get away with just about anything. you were an angel sent from above to him who could do no wrong. 

the way your soft lips wrapped around his cock while your innocent (not) eyes bored into his soul. the way you licked and kissed every single inch of his body, leaving nothing left untouched. and god, the way you worked his dick? how was he supposed to move on from you??

you were an insatiable, sex-crazed goddess. a once in a lifetime experience he was so grateful to have. 

his thoughts are interrupted by a loud knocking at his door. two seconds later, jay trails into jake’s room followed by dumb and dumber, all of them having a snug look on their faces.

they make themselves comfortable before they get right into the interrogation. jay leans against the desk, sunghoon sits in the bean bag situated in the corner, and heeseung sprawls himself across the bed.

“so virgin, how was it?”

 “wasn’t i right about her pussy?” 

“where did she make you cum?” 

eyes rolling in the back of his head, jake takes a deep sigh before answering their questions. “one, i’m not a virgin anymore so stop calling me that. two, it was absolutely fucking amazing. literally would give up heaven for it. and three, she had me cum in her. twice.”

heeseung shoots up from his position, jaw dropped and eyes wide. “you came in her twice?!” the boys all share a bewildered expression on their faces, dramatic as always.

jake just shrugs at them, what? didn’t you usually let guys cum in you like the freak you were?

jay slaps his hands down on jake’s shoulders, aggressively turning the computer chair towards him. “jake. buddy. yn has two rules.” 

sunghoon suddenly appears on jay’s left, “one. you can’t cum in her. you can cum anywhere BUT inside of her.” 

heeseung follows and is now on jay’s right side, “and two. she doesn’t repeat fuck.”

immediately following this revelation there’s silence.  complete and utter silence.  the gazes they hold are intense and uninviting. as if they truly couldn’t believe you let their best friend who’s never felt the touch of a woman break one of your rules.

their eyes say it all, they love jake to death and are happy for him, like seriously happy and relieved he’s finally entered manhood. but really? none of them got to do what he did? what was so special about him?

you don’t even know the answer to those questions yourself. maybe it was the puppy eyes or his whiny moans that made you feel like you had him in the palm of your hands.

his eagerness to pleasure you but to also receive reminded you of the sole purpose of why you only go for virgins. they made you feel wanted while also letting you be in charge. call it selfishness but why can’t a girl have the best of both worlds? 

and you’d never admit it, but jake was one of the best fucks you’ve had in a while. he never tried to be someone he wasn’t, just authentically himself. a pitiful, pitiful virgin. and he was proud of it.

it was refreshing to fuck someone who didn’t have some sort of ego right after you were done with them. immediately bragging to everyone what you two did and acting like they could pull any girl as if you weren’t doing charity work for most of them. 

with all of this in mind, of course you let him cum in you. he was doing so well for you, how could you not reward him? had to let him do it twice to drive it home.

and seriously, what kind of guy gives you a tender, sweet goodbye kiss and thanks you for defiling him? you didn’t regret your decisions with him but they were definitely scaring you. 

never have you ever been this intimate with a guy, but jake was different. you felt it. and what you did next didn’t scare you as much as your recent choices with him.

*ping!*

the staredown between jake and his friends comes to a halt and he digs his phone out of his pocket to check it. sliding up, he sees the message appear on his screen:

you: are you free tomorrow?

he glances at his friends’ expectant eyes and throws them a smirk. looks like he gets to break that second rule of yours. 

© fakeuwus 2024 do not repost, translate, or plagiarize

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