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itwillbethescarletwitch · 5 days ago

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F1 Head Cannons

Sex Chocolate!

Drivers Included: Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Max Verstappen, Lewis Hamilton, Charles Leclerc, George Russell, Carlos Sainz and Franco Colapinto.

Lando Norris:

He didn’t believe you.

“Swear down,” he laughed, turning the heart-shaped piece of chocolate over in his fingers. “It’s just a stupid TikTok sex trend.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Fine. Don’t take it. But I hope you can handle being edged for three hours when I’m the one who takes it and begs for more.”

That did it.

He popped it in his mouth with a smug little chew. “Tastes like a Cadbury. Bit of mint. Not bad.”

It hit twelve minutes later.

One second he was giggling through a movie with his legs draped over yours on the couch.

The next?

He was straddling your thighs on the living room rug, shirt off, pupils huge, hips grinding down against your clothed core as he moaned—actually moaned—into your neck.

“I feel,” he breathed, pulling his mouth away from your collarbone, “so fucking horny I could die.”

You were still laughing when he ripped your top clean in half.

“Lando—!”

“No, no, no,” he whined. “Need it. Right now. I don’t care. Gimme.”

He dragged your panties down with his teeth.

This Lando? This was feral.

He didn’t even prep you. Just spit, aligned himself, and pushed in with a desperate grunt.

“FUCK—you’re warm, you’re warm, you’re warm—”

He set a pace like he was possessed. Messy, frantic, hips slapping, hands everywhere—your wrists pinned, your thighs shaking, his forehead pressed against yours with insane eye contact the whole time.

Kink unlocked: Overstimulation and begging.

Because once you came the first time, it was like a switch flipped.

“No, no, don’t stop—don’t stop, baby, come on, be good for me, again, again—please again, I swear I’ll die—”*

When he came, it was with a whimper, his whole body shaking like he’d never felt it before. But the worst part?

He stayed hard.

“What the fuck was in that?” he gasped, laughing while flipping you onto your stomach. “Round two, yeah?”

…You didn’t walk for two days.

Charles Leclerc:

You left it on the kitchen counter.

Just a silly little heart-shaped chocolate in pink foil with a note next to it that read:

“⚠️ DO NOT TOUCH — SEX CHOCOLATE. For later. I’m serious.”

You figured he’d laugh.

He’s always teasing you for getting things off TikTok.

You never in a million years thought Charles “Mr. Control” Leclerc would eat it without asking.

So when you come home and find him shirtless, sweat beading at his temples, sprawled across your bed like a painting in distress, hand fisting the sheets while his boxers tent aggressively…

You drop your fucking keys.

“Charles?!”

His head lifts slowly, neck flushed red, pupils dilated to hell.

His voice is wrecked. “Ma chérie… I—what the fuck was in that chocolate?”

You freeze. “You ate it?!”

“I thought you were joking!” he groans, grabbing his cock through his boxers with a desperate, strangled sound. “You left a snack! On the counter! What was I supposed to do?!”

You laugh. You shouldn’t laugh.

But your boyfriend—the stoic, calm, always-in-control Charles—is quite literally bent in half by horniness.

And then he moves.

He gets up slowly, like his own body is too much to handle.

And he stalks toward you—hungry, trembling, growling.

Eyes locked on yours. Lips parted. Breathing like he’s run a marathon.

“You did this,” he rasps, trapping you against the wall. “You put that in the house. You—*fuck—*you knew I wouldn’t resist chocolate. You did this on purpose.”

He grabs your jaw. Tilts your face to his. Licks into your mouth like he wants to taste the sin before he sinks into it.

“Tu vas me laisser te baiser comme j’en ai besoin, n’est-ce pas?”

(You’re going to let me fuck you the way I need to, aren’t you?)

You nod. You whimper.

It’s all he needs.

He rips your leggings down, slides your panties off, then lifts you like nothing.

Holds you up against the wall with one hand on your ass, the other wrapped around your neck—gently, but firmly—and sinks in raw.

You scream.

He growls.

“Tais-toi… Don’t speak. Just feel me. Just take it.”

KINK UNLOCKED:

• Breath play

• French degradation/praise

• Wall sex + size kink

• Delayed orgasm control + possessive dom energy

His thrusts are hard, precise—a rhythm sent from the gods and delivered through Monaco’s most beloved slut.

He’s cursing in French, biting your shoulder, saying things like:

“Tu m’as manqué. Cette petite chatte—putain, elle m’a manqué.”

(I missed you. This little pussy—fuck, I missed it.)

You can’t think. You can’t breathe.

Every stroke is deep and perfect and made to destroy you.

When you cry out—because it’s too much, too full, too fast—he smilesagainst your neck.

“You’re crying?” he pants. “*Mais non, ma chérie—*don’t cry. It’s good for you. It’s supposed to feel like this.”

And then he starts thrusting even harder.

You come with a scream, legs trembling, body writhing—and he doesn’t stop.

Not until he’s filled you twice, not until your tears stain his shoulder, and definitely not until you beg him in French to let you rest.

“S’il te plaît—Charles—je peux plus—”

(Please—Charles—I can’t anymore—)

He kisses your forehead sweetly. Carries you to bed. Tucks your hair behind your ears.

Then pulls the vibrator out of the drawer.

“Non, non,” he murmurs. “The chocolate hasn’t worn off yet, bébé.

Let’s see how many more you can take.”

Oscar Piastri:

He took it as a joke.

Deadpan expression. Lazy shrug. Calm, quiet voice.

“So it’s like a… horny gummy bear?”

You held the foil heart out with a smirk. “It’s stronger than a gummy bear.”

Oscar rolled his eyes but popped the chocolate into his mouth anyway.

He kissed your cheek after. “I’ll let you know if I feel anything.”

Seventeen minutes later.

He’s pacing the room like a caged animal.

Hands flexing. Brow furrowed. Sweating, shirt discarded. Fully hard.

“…I don’t think I’m okay.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Do you feel sick?”

He stopped. Turned to you slowly. Eyes wild.

“No. I feel like I need to fuck you until you cry.”

You didn’t even get a full breath in before he grabbed you.

Clothes? Gone. Logic? Gone. Oscar’s whole soul? Possessed.

He didn’t even take you to bed.

He bent you over the counter, dragged your panties to the side, and shoved himself in with a desperate groan that vibrated down your spine.

He started pounding—deep and filthy—his chest pressed to your back, his hand tangled in your hair, his voice shaky and low.

“You gonna take it? Huh? Take it like my good girl?”

You choked. His pace got rougher.

“You’re gonna let me fuck you like this—use you, ruin you—”

KINK UNLOCKED:

• Corruption kink + degradation

• Choking + hair pulling + public risk (open blinds)

• Silent edging/overstimulation

• Possessive virginity-core flipped

He manhandled you like he couldn’t stop.

Thrusting so hard your hands were slipping on the counter, and when you whimpered, he let go of your hair—just to slap your ass so hard your knees buckled.

“Don’t go weak on me now, baby. Not until I say we’re done.”

You came once. Then again. And again.

He refused to stop. Didn’t even slow down.

He came inside you, moaning low and guttural—but stayed rock hard.

Oscar Piastri after sex chocolate is not quiet.

He’s sweaty. Messy. Loud. Obsessed.

When he finally collapsed on top of you, breathless and shaky, he murmured:

“You’re not going anywhere. We’re doing that again. And again. And again.”

Lewis Hamilton:

Lewis knew what he was doing.

He lit candles. Put on a playlist. Set out satin sheets and massage oil like it was a full ceremony.

You placed the little chocolate on his tongue and kissed him slow.

“Think it’s gonna hit hard?” you teased.

Lewis just gave you that smug little smirk. “I don’t need the chocolate to ruin you, baby. But I’ll let it enhance the experience.”

Ten minutes in, he was already kissing down your stomach.

Fifteen minutes in, he was eating you out so slowly you were shaking from restraint.

But at the twenty minute mark?

He flipped.

His calm, sensual energy turned into dirty spiritual chaos.

He was fucking you with two fingers, mouth on your clit, grinding his hips into the mattress like he was the one being touched.

“Feel that?” he rasped. “That’s me inside you already—and I haven’t even started.”

When he finally pushed his cock into you, he did it with a slow, intentional roll of his hips that made you see stars.

“Let me make you transcend, love. I wanna fuck you into another plane.”

KINK UNLOCKED:

• Tantric edging + praise kink

• Mirror sex + nipple play + temperature play (warm oils, cool fingers)

• Throat fucking (gentle but deep)

• Long, slow, multiple orgasms

• High-intensity eye contact and spiritual daddy energy

He had you in positions you’ve never even seen before.

He lifted your legs, curved your back, laid you out with a vibe pressed to your clit while he drilled into you at a luxurious pace—stretching you out until your brain short-circuited.

“You’re shaking. That’s beautiful,” he whispered. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

You came hard. Then again. Then again with his tongue between your thighs and his fingers inside you.

He licked every drop of his own come off your stomach with deep reverence.

And just when you thought he was done?

He rolled you onto your side. Bit your shoulder. And whispered:

“You’re not going to sleep tonight, sweetheart. I’ve got plans.”

Max Verstappen:

You were warned.

Max took the chocolate without even asking what it was. Just bit into it, eyes still on the sim rig screen, and said:

“Tastes kinda bitter. What is it?”

You froze.

“…Max. That was sex chocolate.”

He blinked once. “Like Viagra?”

“Worse.”

He smirked. Shrugged. “Good.”

**Fifteen minutes later—**he was already twitching with tension.

He stalked into the bedroom shirtless, flushed, jaw tight, arms flexing as he stared you down.

“Take your fucking clothes off.”

“Max—”

“Now.”

You did. You didn’t question it.

Because whatever was in that chocolate had turned Max into a full-blown, primal predator.

He shoved you onto the bed, yanked your thighs apart, and stared at your pussy like it was his next podium finish.

“You’re wet already?” he scoffed. “Didn’t even touch you yet. That’s pathetic.”

Then he spit on it. And ate you out like a punishment.

Fast. Rough. Zero mercy.

You came screaming. He didn’t stop.

When he finally slid in, it was brutal—deep thrusts, rough grip on your hips, his voice ragged in your ear as he pounded into you like he was trying to break the bed.

“You wanted to fuck a world champion? You better act like it.”

KINK UNLOCKED:

• Degradation + primal dom + forced overstimulation

• Spit play + spanking + rough grip marks

• Breath play and crying kink (because he wants you to sob)

• Edging + fearplay light (you like the threat of him, even when he’s gentle afterward)

He flipped you face down. Pressed his palm between your shoulder blades. Fucked you so hard your arms gave out.

And when you whimpered?

“No. Take it. I’m not done yet.”

He came with a low growl—then slapped your ass so hard it echoed.

But he didn’t go soft. Not even close.

“You’re not leaving this bed tonight.”

You came six times.

He didn’t even kiss you until round three.

Just whispered: “Mine.”

Carlos Sainz:

You dared him.

“I bet you couldn’t handle the chocolate. You’re all talk.”

Carlos looked offended. Deeply.

He snatched the foil heart, unwrapped it slowly, and popped it in his mouth—with eye contact.

“You’ll regret saying that.”

And you absolutely did.

Because twenty minutes later?

Carlos dragged you back to bed with fire in his eyes and a hard-on that looked medically dangerous.

He didn’t even give you time to catch your breath.

Shoved your panties aside. Sucked your clit into his mouth and held your hips down while you screamed.

You begged him to stop.

He laughed. “We’re just getting started, mi vida.”

He threw you onto all fours, gripped your ass like a vice, and fucked you from behind deep and controlled—one hand tangled in your hair, the other smacking your thigh.

“That’s it. That’s how I like it. Let them hear you.”

KINK UNLOCKED:

• Praise in Spanish + breeding kink energy + DDLG softness layered under filth

• Hair pulling + spanking + body worship (he still calls you beautiful while railing you)

• Choking + mirror play (he makes you watch)

• “You’re mine” possessiveness in both languages

He bit your shoulder. Told you to keep your hands flat on the mattress.

If you moved? He started over.

You came once? He wanted two more.

“No lloriquees ahora. Tú querías esto.”

(Don’t whine now. You wanted this.)

He came inside you, held it there, then started rubbing your clit again while still inside.

“Otra vez, baby. Dámelo otra vez.”

(Again, baby. Give it to me again.)

You were crying and shaking by the end.

He kissed your forehead.

“Good girl. Now flip over—I’m not done loving you.”

George Russell:

George didn’t rush into the sex chocolate.

He researched it. Read the label. Looked up the reviews.

“I just want to know what I’m putting in my body,” he said with a perfectly reasonable smile. “Don’t want to lose control.”

…And then he took it anyway.

Fifteen minutes later, he had you lying back on silk sheets, completely naked and trembling, your wrists tied to the headboard with his Hermes tie.

George Russell was gone.

All that British elegance? Now poured into filthy, dominating, perfectionist-level sex.

“Look at me,” he said, voice low and firm. “You do not come until I say so.”

You nodded quickly. He smiled and kissed your forehead—then spread your legs and slipped two fingers inside you while keeping eye contact.

Slow. Deep. Precise.

He worked your body like a symphony, fingers curling just right, while his other hand trailed up to your throat.

“You’re dripping. Can you feel how desperate you are? Pathetic, darling.”

You whimpered.

He laughed softly.

Then the chocolate hit full force.

His expression shifted.

Suddenly he was flipping you over, arching your back with one strong arm under your waist, and sliding his cock into you with a grunt so deep it vibrated your spine.

KINK UNLOCKED:

• Bondage (tie kink) + obedient praise kink

• Degradation mixed with gentle dominance (“You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”)

• Precision edging—he makes you beg like you’re praying

• Mirror play. “Watch how I ruin you.”

He’d go so slow, you’d think he was being soft—until he gripped your jaw and whispered:

“You move without permission, I’ll start over. Are we clear?”

When you finally came—shaking, screaming, gasping—he didn’t even stop.

He gave you a look and said, “Count how many you can give me. Let’s make it a personal best.”

Then he came on your stomach, wiped it up with a towel, and kissed your hand like a gentleman.

You were tied up for two hours.

Aftercare included feeding you chocolate strawberries… and then round two.

Franco Colapinto:

You left it on his pillow. Wrapped in red foil. A silly little heart.

“One piece = one hour of nasty.”

Franco held it up, smirked, and raised an eyebrow.

He didn’t even ask. Just ripped the foil open with his teeth and ate the whole thing.

“Ojalá no llores luego, mi amor.”

(Hope you don’t cry later, baby.)

You thought he was being dramatic.

But fifteen minutes later, Franco was shirtless. Eyes blown wide. Breath shaky. Hands trembling.

He was standing at the edge of the bed, staring at you like you were dessert—naked, sprawled out for him, waiting.

His voice was low. Like a growl, but prettier.

“Don’t say a word. I want to see you cry before you say a single fucking word.”

And then he pounced.

Mouth on your neck. Teeth. Tongue. Fingers in your hair.

He yanked you up by the throat—not hard, just enough for your head to tilt back—and kissed you like he was starving.

Groaned into your mouth. Licked into it. Breathed, “open, bebé.”

You did.

Spit. Tongue. Heat.

He kissed like he fucked—hungry and dangerous.

And when he finally broke the kiss, he had that glint in his eye. That sinister spark.

“Let’s see if this chocolate’s as crazy as people say, huh?”

“Let’s see if I can break you.”

You didn’t even get a second to process it.

He spun you around, shoved you onto the mattress, and ripped your panties off like they offended him.

Then dropped to his knees.

Tongue on your pussy. Hands holding you wide. No warning.

“Ay, mierda… You’re already dripping for me?” he purred against your skin.

Licked a stripe up your center, then did it again.��Sloppier. Wetter.

Moaned into you like it was for him.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this, mi chanchita. Look at you. Moaning like a whore and I haven’t even put my cock in yet.”

You came on his tongue. Fast. Hard. Shaking.

He didn’t stop.

He laughed.

“One. C’mon. You can give me seven.”

He spit on your clit. Slapped it once. Twice. You jolted—gasps turning into sobs.

Then he stood up, eyes dark and lips soaked.

And slid in. Raw.

No foreplay. No prep. Just dominance.

He pushed in slow and deep, watching your face twist, until he bottomed out.

Your hands gripped the sheets. He grabbed your wrists. Pushed them above your head.

“No touching. Just take it.”

And then he started fucking you.

No rhythm. Just chaos. Animalistic, deep, punishing.

Every thrust hit a spot you didn’t know existed. And the chocolate? Had him insatiable.

His mouth was right by your ear.

“¿Querías esto, no? Una noche conmigo.”

(You wanted this, right? One night with me.)

“Pues, prepárate, puta. No vas a caminar mañana.”

(Well, get ready, slut. You won’t walk tomorrow.)

⸻

KINKS ON DISPLAY:

• Spit play (in mouth, on pussy, on dick)

• Hair pulling, choking, wrist pinning

• Bilingual filth (“rich slut,” “my obsession,” “fucktoy,” “my girl”)

• Overstimulation (he keeps fucking you through your orgasms)

• Mirror sex (he drags you to the mirror just to watch)

• Breeding kink (“Gonna fill you up. Want it dripping down your thighs.”)

• Crying kink + degradation + praise mix

• Mindfuck dirty talk (“I want you to forget what your name is and only remember mine.”)

⸻

He flipped you halfway through. Dragged you to the mirror. Bent you over the bathroom sink.

“Look at yourself. Look what I do to you. Qué rica te ves toda destruida.”

(You look so good all ruined.)

He fucked you like that, from behind—deep and steady, one hand around your throat, the other rubbing your clit just to watch your face as you sobbed through another orgasm.

“You love it. Admit it. Say it.”

You choked.

He slapped your ass, hard. “Say it.”

“I—I love it.”

“Mírame cuando lo digas.”

(Look at me when you say it.)

You came so hard your knees gave out.

He held you up. Kept fucking.

You sobbed. He moaned. Bit your shoulder and whispered every nasty word you’d ever wanted to hear.

Then he pulled out. Came on your back.

“That’s not the last one.”

Dragged you to the bed. Cleaned you with his shirt.

Then pushed your legs up and went back in.

Still hard.

Still filthy.

Still hungry.

“Give me one more. I want to see you lose your fucking mind.”

And when he was finally done—covered in sweat, glowing with pride—he curled up behind you, kissed your jaw, and whispered,

“You’re mine now, ¿sí? No hay nadie más. Just me.”

(There’s no one else. Just me.)

You passed out in his arms.

Woke up to chocolate on the pillow again.

“Round 2?” the note said.

“Be brave, chiquita. 🖤”

1K notes · View notes

onlypinkslut · 13 days ago

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warning 18+

bulking season bf!toji fushiguro x f!reader🍫 ─────────────────────────── you should’ve known better than to bake aphrodisiac-laced chocolate for a man whose cock is already this heavy on a rest day.

cw: aphrodisiac use, dubcon energy, intense size kink, morning-after continuation, heavy creampie detail, degradation + praise, light choking, possessive, rimming, piss kink, thick cock worship, finger sucking, spit

───────────────────────────

you didn’t even mean for it to get nasty. you were just playing around, honestly. the aphrodisiac chocolates had been sitting in your drawer since that one dumb tiktok trend went viral, and you bought them as a joke, more curious than anything. they were shaped like hearts, barely smelled like cocoa, and supposedly made with some obscure herb that increased sensitivity and blood flow. whatever. they’d probably do nothing. but it was a boring saturday, his stupid team was losing again, and he was in one of his bulking moods always grumbling about macros and how his legs were sore and how his back felt tight even though he spent the entire day sprawled on the couch. so you figured, why not. you crumbled up three of those little hearts and stirred them right into the muffin batter, along with his favorite chocolate whey protein, flaxseed, a little oat flour, and that fake sugar he liked. they looked innocent. smelled good too. you even sprinkled dark chocolate chunks on top so they felt indulgent.

you were still mixing when you felt that big fucking hand smack your ass, the sting warm and sharp.

he walked by without looking at you like it was nothing, wearing nothing but his black compression shorts and one of those old tournament tees that clung to his back. his arms looked thicker than usual he’d been on some mass phase that turned his triceps round and full and his stomach into that heavy, firm softness that made him feel dangerous when he pinned you down. his thighs were beefy and slow-moving, and when he bent down to grab a beer from the fridge, you watched the fabric strain around the curve of his ass like it owed you something.

he popped the can open and took a long drink, foam sliding down the corner of his mouth. you laughed, swatting his arm as he kissed your cheek.

you smell like powder and beer. move.

he grinned, grumbled something about the game, and walked back to the couch.

you baked the muffins. pulled them out golden, warm, fluffy, dark chocolate bleeding from the tops. you left them to cool on the counter and slipped away to the bathroom to rinse the sticky batter off your hands. maybe three minutes, tops. when you came back, the tray was empty except for one.

he didn’t even hide it. he was leaning against the counter with chocolate crumbs on his lip, chewing the last bite of the second-to-last one, like he didn’t just eat five muscle muffins in under three minutes.

you stood there in silence.

toji.

he looked up, mouth full, blinked slowly.

hmm?

you pointed at the tray.

what the fuck, babe. you ate all of them?

he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shrugged, tone smug.

i left you one.

you stared harder.

wow. thank you. king shit. leaving me one of the muffins i made from your expensive ass protein powder.

he smirked, walked past you toward the living room again.

could’ve eaten that one too. i was nice.

you followed him.

you’re a fucking jerk sometimes, toji. greedy ass.

he turned, and his face looked different. not defensive. flushed. like the heat hit him late. his eyes were a little too half-lidded, that casual post-meal glow a little too glassy. he leaned back against the counter, beer still in hand, and you noticed the way he adjusted his waistband. the compression shorts weren’t hiding anything. his cock was already thickening, heavy and outlined, hanging to the side and rising slow, fat from the bulk, veins showing along the shaft like he was halfway hard without even trying.

he blinked at you again.

you say that like it’s not sexy watching me eat.

you squinted.

you high?

he looked confused, then smirked wider.

nah. i just feel good. what’d you put in those muffins?

you crossed your arms.

…chocolate.

his hand reached down and adjusted again. his cock twitched under the fabric.

mm. you put steroids in that shit? ‘cause i feel like i could fuck you through the wall right now.

you rolled your eyes but your thighs clenched.

you’re so full of yourself. big back.

he laughed, deep and slow, took another sip of his beer and tilted his head.

big back that’s gonna fold you over the sink in five seconds if you keep mouthing off.

you stared at the outline of his cock fully hard now, straining, the tip pressing high, the shaft wide and curved with the kind of bulked-up heaviness that made your mouth ache just thinking about it. he was flushed down to his chest, neck pink, voice deeper. the aphrodisiacs were kicking in hard, and he had no idea why just knew he was turned on and looking at you like you were a cheat meal and a challenge all in one.

his beer hit the counter with a loud clink.

you still mad about the muffins?

you didn’t answer.

his eyes dropped to your thighs.

yeah. thought so.

he didn’t give you time to run. didn’t even pretend to play nice. one second you were glaring at him, hands on your hips like you were gonna keep arguing, and the next, he had both your wrists in one of his hands and your body bent clean over the kitchen counter, your cheek pressing into the still-warm granite like it was punishment. the tray clattered next to your face, one lonely muffin left behind, and his beer bottle rolled sideways, forgotten. his grip on your wrists tightened just slightly firm enough to hold you still, loose enough to tease. his other hand slipped under your shirt, palm dragging over your stomach, and you felt the weight of him behind you, chest hot and solid, that firm bulked-up belly pinning your hips down like he was built to keep you there.

you felt it before it hit. his hand lifted, then cracked back down on your ass hard, a full open-palm slap that made your hips jerk forward and your mouth fall open with a breathy yelp. the sting bloomed fast, heat spreading, and he leaned over you, lips against your ear as he growled low.

that’s one muffin.

you twisted your face against the counter, half-laughing, half-squirming, the ache spreading deeper with every second. your skirt was already pushed up, your thighs open, panties crooked and damp from how hard your heart was beating. you wanted to be mad. you were mad. but your ass lifted again, greedy and twitching, and he noticed. his hand came down again. same cheek. sharper this time, more of a slap than a spank.

two.

fuck you, you overgrown glutton.

he chuckled dark against your neck and licked a slow stripe up the side of it. you felt the curve of his cock pressing against your ass, thick and full and leaking into his shorts now, the head wet and bulging against the waistband. his body felt like a furnace, bulking-season heat turning his whole chest into something heavy and suffocating as it dragged down your back. his hand reached around and shoved your panties further to the side, two fingers sliding through the slick between your thighs.

mm. you’re wet. you like being punished for chocolate, huh?

i liked the part before you opened your mouth..

another slap. harder. lower. made your clit jump from the vibration of it.

three.

you hissed through your teeth, but your ass stayed up, back arched like you needed more. he grabbed the side of your jaw, turned your face toward him, and shoved two fingers past your lips sticky from your own slick, the taste already faintly sweet. you sucked them in slow, dragging your tongue along the pads, teeth brushing just barely.

he looked down at you, smirking, and started moving his fingers in and out of your mouth like he was testing depth.

four.

you moaned around them, lips popping, and he shoved your face back down onto the counter, fingers dragging out wet. he spanked you again, same rhythm, a little higher this time, making your whole body jerk forward from the impact.

five.

you giggled breathlessly and rolled your hips back into him.

can you count without losing breath?

he grabbed your hair and yanked your head back just enough to make you gasp, your spine bowing beneath him. his cock pressed harder against your ass now, twitching visibly through the fabric.

don’t make me count with my cock instead.

you moaned louder than you meant to. your pussy was dripping, your thighs sticky, clit swollen and throbbing from the slap-rub rhythm he kept grinding into you with that brutal body weight. he was sweating now too, heat radiating off his skin, mouth hot against your neck as he whispered—

six.

you didn’t even feel the slap before you felt yourself twitch. your clit rubbed up against the edge of the counter. your mouth dropped open in a low gasp.

seven.

he kissed your shoulder, still smirking, and dragged his fingers between your legs again, then brought them back to your lips, slick and warm. you sucked them without hesitation this time. your body was swaying, rolling back into his grip like instinct, ass high and cunt dripping while he lined himself up behind you, rubbing the thick head of his cock between your folds like he was testing how far he could stretch you before you even said a word.

eight.

you heard yourself laugh and sob in the same breath. he didn’t let up.

the whole thing stopped when your phone started ringing loud and shrill, cutting through the heat like cold water. you jumped off the counter fast, pulling your shirt down and stumbling into the hallway while muttering something about it being your friend and how you’d deal with him later. he grunted something but didn’t follow, probably still standing there half-hard, flushed, and foaming at the mouth. you shut the door to the bedroom and answered the call like your face wasn’t red and your thighs weren’t sticky with your own slick. tried to focus. nodded through the updates about someone’s breakup and how the group chat was dead without you. you were just starting to feel normal again, legs still sore, when you heard the door creak open.

he didn’t say anything. just walked in like he had every right to interrupt. sat next to you on the edge of the bed, shirtless now, that thick bulked-up body warm and sweaty, the smell of chocolate and protein powder still clinging to his skin. you tried to keep your voice steady, but he leaned in close and started pressing soft kisses to your cheek like he was innocent. like he wasn’t the same man who spanked you eight times in a row like a delinquent five minutes ago.

you ignored him.

he licked the shell of your ear.

you wet right now?

you flinched, elbowing him off, mouthing shut up, i’m on the phone, but he just grinned and pulled you closer by the waist, mouth dragging along your jaw.

did you touch yourself today?

you hissed through your teeth and turned away from him, still nodding to the phone, but your eyes rolled when you felt the shape of his cock through his shorts pressing to your side.

do you like my cock?

he said it with a straight face like he was asking you about the weather. you shoved him again, whispering you’re disgusting and i’m tired, and he just blinked, offended.

you stood up, phone still to your ear, and said you were going to shower and do skincare. tried to escape. told him to wait for you, literally begged him not to be a freak for ten minutes. but he followed you down the hall like a damn animal, dragging his feet, head tilted low, big arms hanging loose, shorts tenting with the outline of his thick cock already half out the waistband. you were halfway into the bathroom when he yanked them down to his thighs and slapped the heavy thing against his stomach with a loud thwack, the sound echoing off the walls.

you turned around with wide eyes, still holding your cleanser bottle.

you need help. what the fuck is wrong with you tonight?

he was sweating. hard. chest flushed, lips parted, cock twitching thick and veiny with that full weight. he gripped the base lazily, stroking it slow like it owed him answers.

lemme have your panties.

you laughed like you were being pranked.

no. they’re gross. literally sweaty and full of discharge. stop being weird.

he growled, eyes locked on your hips like you were already undressing.

that’s why i want them.

you looked at him like he needed a hospital. you rolled your eyes and tossed them at him from the doorway, half expecting him to joke except he didn’t. he grabbed them like they were sacred, wrapped them around his cock and started stroking harder, groaning under his breath as the fabric dragged slick down his shaft. he smelled them first. then kept going.

baby, come back.

you stared, stunned, jaw dropped, laughing as you backed into the bathroom like he was possessed.

you’re actually disgusting tonight. i’m scared.

he grinned like it was a compliment. still stroking. cock gleaming with spit and your old discharge. voice low and hoarse like he was pleading now.

just come back. five minutes. c’mon, let me fuck you up a little.

you shut the door before he made you say yes.

but you were smiling.

you walked out of the shower with wet hair, a towel wrapped high around your chest and steam still clinging to your legs when you saw him on the bed legs spread, back against the headboard, one hand stroking his cock slow while your panties were on his fucking face. not just held there. stretched across his mouth, the fabric pulled tight under his nose like he was breathing in the scent of you, huffing hard while his palm glided up and down his thick shaft. he was already flushed. drenched in sweat. eyes glassy and wild like he’d been edging himself with your name in his head the whole time you were gone.

you stopped cold in the doorway, one leg still in the bathroom.

are you serious right now?

he looked up slowly. didn’t move the panties. didn’t even blink.

you took too long.

you rolled your eyes and turned back toward the closet, muttering under your breath, already reaching for a shirt. your towel was still clinging to your hips, and the moment he saw you grab anything, he growled.

don’t put that on.

you ignored him.

toji, shut up.

he stood. fast. his cock still in hand, hard and leaking, bouncing with every step as he moved toward you, thighs thick and full and loud against the floor. his shadow covered you in one step. your towel was gone in the next. yanked clean off and tossed straight over the balcony like he had no sense of reality left.

you screamed.

what the fuck?!

he didn’t answer. didn’t care. just stood there staring at you like you were made of gold and filth and his name written on skin. his cock twitched in his hand again, a string of slick still connecting his thumb to the flushed tip, the whole thing fat and swollen and angry looking, like it had been waiting too long. he started stroking again, eyes dropping straight to your tits and lower. your stomach. your thighs. your pussy still damp and shiny from the shower. his gaze slowed down, mouth hanging open a little, lips pressed into your soaked panties again as he moaned like he’d been starving.

you’re fucking insane. what is wrong with you?

he didn’t flinch. his eyes stayed on your pussy. his hand stroked harder. faster. your insults didn’t even register. he was jerking off to the way your thighs rubbed together when you shifted your weight, to the curve of your ass from the side, to the way your nipples perked from the cold air. he kept moaning low, soft, not loud but desperate. the kind that scared you. his chest was rising fast. face flushed, forehead damp. the chocolate definitely hit too deep. and the way he looked at you wasn’t romantic or sweet. it was deranged. feral. the kind of hunger that had no language.

you’re a fucking psycho tonight, oh my god.

he dropped the panties. grabbed your face with one hand, rough, fast, and kissed you like he was dying. not gentle. his lips crashed into yours and his tongue shoved in immediately, messy and hot, licking over your tongue and sucking on it like it was wet candy. you tried to pull away but he held your jaw tight, chest pressed against yours now, heavy and hot and huge, cock still rubbing up against your belly as he ground against you, growling like a man who hadn’t cum in a year.

you tasted the sweat. the chocolate. the spit. your own slick.

his other hand grabbed your thigh and lifted it, shoving it between his legs so he could grind on it, cock dragging across your skin, wet and heavy, the head leaving smears on your inner thigh as he humped it slow, panting harder.

baby. baby fuck. you feel so small. so soft. so tight.

you whimpered when his hand wrapped around your throat, thumb pressing up under your jaw, not squeezing hard but firm enough to make you feel it when you swallowed. his kisses didn’t stop. he was biting now. licking the corner of your mouth. pulling at your lips with his teeth. his whole body was crushing you against the closet door and you could feel the thickness of his arms pressing in from either side, his back broad enough to block the hallway.

you dug your nails into his shoulders, scratching, hissing between gasps.

you’re fucking disgusting tonight, jesus—

he humped harder. his cock twitched. he slapped it against your belly again with a thick wet thud and groaned into your mouth.

he didn’t ask. he picked you up. your leg still caught around his waist, his arms under your ass, that towel long forgotten, your clothes gone, his body hot enough to steam glass.

you weren’t escaping. you didn’t want to.

your back slammed against the wall, chest heaving, breath caught halfway in your throat as his cock rubbed slick and hot between your thighs. he was still grinding on you like he couldn’t think straight, his sweat mixing with the water on your skin, his lips open against your mouth, panting like an animal that couldn’t stop pacing. you pushed against his chest just barely, enough to give yourself space to breathe, but not enough to stop him.

i gave you something, you muttered, almost breathless, voice shaky as his mouth trailed down your collarbone.

he didn’t stop.

something like what?

your hand pushed weakly at his shoulder. you weren’t even sure why you said it. maybe guilt. maybe pride.

in the muffins. they had… like, aphrodisiac shit in them.

he froze. only for a second. just long enough for his eyes to flick up and look at you with something new hunger wrapped in something sharper. his jaw clenched. the muscles in his arms flexed where they held you. then he grinned.

you dirty fucking girl.

he grabbed your thighs and hoisted you up like you weighed nothing, your back thudding against the wall again as he shifted his hips and lined his cock up with your entrance. he didn’t tease. didn’t ask. he just pressed in raw and thick, your walls stretching fast around him as he filled you in one long, punishing stroke. your nails dug into his shoulders, mouth open in a gasp, the pressure dizzying. he was too big like this, too warm, his cock fat and swollen and harder than it had ever been, the aphrodisiac still burning through his bloodstream like fuel.

he fucked into you like he was chasing something down, every thrust heavy and deep, his hips snapping forward fast enough that your whole body bounced up the wall with each one. the air got knocked out of you every time he bottomed out. he grunted into your neck, the sound low and guttural, his words hot against your ear.

you feed me that shit just to get fucked stupid like this? you wanted this cock that bad, baby?

you didn’t answer. couldn’t. your head rolled back against the wall, legs locked tight around his waist, cunt clenching around him so hard it made him groan. he kept fucking you through it, through the twitching, through the tight squeeze, through the way your slick dripped down his balls and hit the floor. he didn’t slow down until your whole body started to go limp.

then he dropped to his knees with you. laid you out flat on the floor and spread your legs wide with both hands, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs like he was bruising ownership into you. he didn’t even wait to kiss. he dove in like a man gone mad, his tongue flat against your folds, dragging up and down through the mess he left inside you, nose bumping your clit, jaw grinding against your pussy like he was trying to pull another orgasm out of you just by sucking.

he licked like it was work. like he was mad about it. tongue shoved into your hole, fucking you open, then licking his way back up only to slap your clit with the tip of it over and over until you were jerking under him, your legs kicking, hands fisting the sheets.

fuck, toji, you’re gonna make me—

he didn’t let you finish. didn’t care. he moaned into you, tongue curling and dragging, mouth open and messy, chin soaked, his whole face buried between your legs like your pussy was the only thing keeping him alive.

this what you wanted, huh? you wanna drug me, make me lose my fuckin mind?

you slapped at his arm, still shrieking, but laughing now too, twisted and gasping.

you’re fucking gross, jesus christ—

gonna fuck this apology out of you. you wanna feed me sex drugs and then leave me hard? thought you were gonna shower and sleep and not let me breed this pretty pussy?

he had you bent over the balcony railing with your tits smashed against the cold metal, breath fogging up the night air, thighs trembling and slick. his cock was already buried halfway in you and he hadn’t even moved yet, just grinding slow against your ass like he wanted to remember how tight you were before ruining it completely. his body was hot behind you, chest soaked with sweat, the bulk of him weighing down every inch of your spine. his stomach rested on your lower back, firm and heavy from the bulking phase, and the thick stretch of his cock had your cunt fluttering before he even pulled back. he exhaled against your ear rough, panting, jaw clenched so tight you could feel his breath shudder when he spoke.

you think this shit’s funny? you fed me some nasty little pussy drug and then ran away to do your skincare like i’m supposed to sit there hard as fuck and not take it out on you?

you shook your head, voice breaking as you tried to form a sentence, the pressure too much already. your hands scrambled for grip, your hips jerking forward when he shoved in deeper, the base of his cock pressing up against your puffy lips and the weight of his balls slapping hot against your clit. you moaned, loud and unfiltered, thighs already sticky from a mix of sweat, slick, and his spit.

i-it’s not a drug, i swear, i just— it was stupid, i saw it online, it said—

he cut you off with a loud grunt, hips snapping forward, dragging a cry out of your chest as your cunt swallowed him to the root. his cock throbbed inside you, so thick and stretched from bulking it felt like you were stuffed with a hot pipe, every ridge of his length dragging against your walls with slow, deliberate friction.

it’s not a drug, huh? then why the fuck does it feel like i’ve been edged for three hours straight with my cock full and my brain empty except for how bad i wanna watch your pussy leak?

you choked on your moan, your body trembling under him. he pulled out halfway, then slammed back in, hard, so loud it echoed across the balcony and bounced off the buildings across the street. you barely noticed the air. barely noticed the night. all you felt was the weight of him, the rage, the obsession, the way his hips snapped like it was punishment.

he started fucking you harder, rougher, and mid-thrust he suddenly paused, grabbed the base of his cock and pulled out, spit dripping from the head, thick veins bulging. you gasped and tried to turn, but his hand was already in your hair, pressing your face down to the rail as he shifted his weight and growled low.

don’t move. fuck shit, baby, i gotta piss.

your whole body tensed, panic crawling up your spine, and you cried out, struggling under him, your voice sharp.

toji—no, the fuck is wrong with you—

he laughed, soft and low, teeth showing in a grin you couldn’t see, voice hoarse.

nah, this is what you get. you feed me some slick little chocolate pussy poison and leave me like a fuckin dog? you get all of it.

he gripped the base of his cock with one thick fist and let go, piss splashing hot against the top of your ass, between your cheeks, running down over your pussy and inner thighs. your back arched and your moan broke into a sob, the sound caught somewhere between disgust and overstimulation as the heat of it soaked you and dripped past your clit. you thrashed once, gasping your voice cracked and hitched.

you’re fucking sick—oh my god, you’re disgusting, what the fuck is wrong with you—

he moaned louder than you, hand stroking himself through it like it was pleasure, not releases, hips jerking with each squeeze.

mm. you like it. feel that? feel how my cock’s still hard even while i’m marking you? fuck, look at that pussy, twitching while i piss on it. can’t believe you thought you were gonna sleep tonight.

you sobbed again, shaking, cunt clenching involuntarily from the humiliation and the heat of his body, and when he was done he didn’t even give you a second. he gripped your hips and shoved his cock back inside raw, sliding through the mess he left like it was lube, his thrusts wet and vicious, his balls still dripping, the slap of skin on skin louder now, filthier.

he grabbed your throat from behind and yanked your back into his chest, voice rasping into your ear.

you don’t feed me shit like that unless you wanna see what it does, yeah? look what you did. look how fuckin big you got me. made me this way. now take it.

you couldn’t even speak anymore. only sounds. gasps. wet moans. tears on your cheeks while he kissed your jaw with too much tongue, licking your face, biting your earlobe, rutting into you like a dog in heat while one hand slid down to rub your clit fast and messy.

that’s it. let me fuck it out of you. cry about it. you don’t get to come until you learn.

you nodded fast, mouth open, drooling now, body convulsing every time his cock kissed your cervix.

i said cry about it.

you sobbed harder. said sorry. begged. not for forgiveness—just to come.

he let you. and when you came, it was so hard your vision blacked, cunt squirting around him like a faucet, legs giving out, and he held you there, fucked you through it like he wasn’t done.

because he wasn’t.

you woke up sore. not just sore wrecked. your thighs ached deep in the muscle, your cunt was tender and raw, still sticky where it rubbed against the sheets, and your whole lower body pulsed like something had been pulled too far open and left that way. your skin smelled like sex. your breath tasted like his spit. your arms were limp, your mouth dry, and for a second you thought maybe he’d finally stopped.

until you shifted. and felt it.

his cock. still heavy. still thick. pressed to the curve of your ass under the sheets like it had been sitting there all night waiting for permission.

you groaned, tried to roll away, but his arm slipped around your waist and held you there, one big hand splayed over your stomach, pulling you back against the heat of his chest. his voice was low and rough in your ear, sleep-wrecked but alert.

where the fuck you think you’re going?

you sighed, already annoyed, already tired, but he didn’t loosen his grip. just slid his hand down over your hip and cupped your bare pussy from behind, fingers dragging through the dried mess between your folds like he was checking inventory.

you’re still soaked. feels like you leaked in your sleep. maybe we didn’t finish.

you elbowed him weakly, face hot, cunt clenching involuntarily against his palm.

shut up. you’re disgusting. that shit wore off hours ago.

he laughed, deep and low in his chest, cock twitching harder now where it rested against your ass.

nah. i still feel it. still fucked up over you. you think you can drug me, get used like a toy, and then act shy when the sun comes up?

his hand slipped back up to your tits, squeezing one lazily, then back down between your thighs, rubbing slow circles into your sore clit. your body jerked, half-flinched, half-needy, and he kissed your neck.

ride it out. burn off the rest of the dose. sit on it and make it go away.

you turned and stared at him, annoyed, blinking against the light, but the look in his eyes was already glazed over, half-lidded and waiting. he looked like he hadn’t even gone soft in his sleep. you threw the sheet off with a huff and swung your leg over his hips, straddling him. your cunt dragged against his cock, both of you still sticky from the night before, and you rolled your eyes as he groaned under you.

you’re nasty. i should make you apologize.

he grinned, arms behind his head, cock thick and upright between your thighs.

do it with your mouth then.

you paused, breathing heavy, and dropped your hips down, taking the tip in slow, your body already twitching from the stretch. he was hot. swollen. too much for the morning, too much for your still-aching pussy. but you sank down anyway, inch by inch, cunt stretching open around him like it was made for it. when he bottomed out, you gasped, hands planted flat on his stomach. he reached forward and gripped your waist.

now say sorry.

you started riding. slow at first, the slide messy and loud, your thighs smacking against his with each bounce. you felt everything. the weight of him inside, the slick of old cum and dried slick, the sweat that never left his chest. he watched your tits bounce, watched the way your stomach pulled tight with every roll of your hips, his cock dragging up and catching on your clit at just the right angle.

you said nothing.

he sat up. grabbed your face. kissed you full on the mouth, licking your teeth, spitting into your mouth as he growled against your lips.

say sorry, baby. say you’re sorry for getting me addicted to your fuckin pussy.

you whimpered. hips rolled faster. the slap of your skin against his thighs louder now, filthier, the sound of your breath tangled in moans and curses. his cock pulsed inside you.

then make me forgive you.

he didn’t let you clean up. didn’t let you pull your legs together or roll away or even think about the mess between your thighs. you were still catching your breath, chest sticking to the sheets, cheek smushed against the mattress and your whole body soft and fucked-stupid when he pulled your hips back toward him and slid a pillow under your stomach. you barely moved. just let him do it. your arms were slack, tits resting heavy against the bed, lips parted and eyes half-shut as he pushed your thighs apart again and settled behind you.

he was still hard.

you moaned when he pushed back in. not loud, not shocked just a slow, tired moan, your voice almost sleepy from how full you already were. his cock slid in with a wet glide, pussy fluttering open from how wrecked you were, the stretch not sharp now, just deep. aching. familiar. his hips moved slow, shallow thrusts that rocked your body forward gently against the mattress. his hands stayed on your ass. never left. he massaged it in slow circles, thumbs digging into the softness, fingers spreading you apart to watch how your pussy stretched and swallowed him all over again.

good girl. so warm like this. open for me even now.

his voice was low, almost lazy. not teasing just full. like his mouth couldn’t help it. one hand slid lower, fingers pressing between your folds to spread the mess there, the mix of cum and slick and sweat still dripping from where he’d been in you all night. his other hand gripped one cheek and spread you wide, thumb brushing up between your ass slowly, slow enough for you to feel the anticipation build before he dragged it down again. your rim twitched.

you whispered something, slurred and soft, but it came out as a moan when he pressed his finger there just resting the pad against it, not pushing yet, just rubbing slow. he leaned over you, spit pooling in his mouth before he let it drip down between your cheeks, warm and thick, landing right where his finger was. you gasped and arched your back, more from the feeling than the surprise. your thighs trembled.

don’t tighten up, baby. it’s just me. relax for me.

his finger circled again. then slipped in.

not all the way. just the tip. just enough to stretch your rim a little, his finger slick with spit, his cock still dragging in and out of your pussy slow and heavy. your ass clenched and he moaned under his breath, fingers flexing as he pushed a little deeper, then pulled out. he brought it to his mouth and licked it clean like it was natural. didn’t rush. just sucked it slow, tongue dragging over the tip, eyes half-lidded as he groaned.

you taste like sin. i swear to god, you were made for me.

you whimpered into the sheets. your breath stuttered. your cunt clenched.

he leaned over your back, his belly warm against your spine, one hand still stroking the cleft of your ass, his other sliding under to rub your clit slow with two fingers.

pussy’s still milking me. like it doesn’t know we’re done. look at you, twitching like you want more even while you’re falling asleep.

you whispered don’t be gross under your breath but your hips pushed back into him, slow and instinctive, your body chasing the rhythm even if your brain had clocked out.

he chuckled against your shoulder, teeth grazing the skin softly as he whispered against it.

you say that but this messy pussy says otherwise. you want it even like this, all quiet and stretched out and tired. good little fuckhole. can’t help it, huh?

you moaned again, louder this time, breath breaking as his hips met yours harder now, slow but deep, each thrust rocking you into the bed.

you clung to the sheets, fingers weak, nails dragging lazy against the cotton.

he parted your ass again and spit one more time, rubbing it down between your cheeks before sliding the tip of his finger back in, slow and deliberate, while fucking you with his cock at the same time. your body shook. your mouth dropped open.

good girl. let me keep you open a little longer. just like this. just like you were made for it.

he fucked you slow and didn’t stop until you came again. barely able to breathe. moaning into the sheets, cunt tightening, ass twitching around his finger, his cock buried deep while your whole body pulsed around every inch of him.

and then he pulled out, kissed your spine, and licked your hole one more time. slow. wet. his tongue dragging low and filthy as his breath shivered over your skin.

you tasted like something he’d never stop wanting.

(๑･̑◡･̑๑) thank you for reading, you nasty little angels. this was unhinged, sweaty, and absolutely necessary. reblogs keep me fed, filthy comments keep me harder. see you next sin🎀

onlypinkslut

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pupsec · 2 months ago

Text

𐔌 、sasuke　ﾉ　you find yourself paired with sasuke, whose sharingan flares uncontrollably around you 𓈒　◟

cw: sexual tension ノ mutual pining ノ Sasuke being emotionally repressed but physically reactive ノexplicit content ノdark themes ϑϱ

He noticed you before you noticed him.

The new girl—quiet, polite, always scribbling notes like the world would fall apart if you missed a single word. You sat near the back, tucked into a desk that creaked when you shifted, always careful not to take up space. You apologized when someone bumped into you. Bowed your head when spoken to.

But Sasuke had seen you.

Not just with his eyes. Not just as one more civilian girl stuck in a shinobi class. No—his body reacted first. Subtle. Wrong.

The first time you were paired together for a sparring demo, he didn’t think much of it. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his fingers, prepared to disarm and pin you like he would anyone else.

You, standing across the mat, looked like you didn’t belong. Your stance was careful but timid, knees bent, hands curled in soft fists like you weren’t sure if you should hit him even if ordered to.

And still—still—

The moment your eyes met his—

Click.

Sharingan.

He felt it burn behind his lashes. The heat curled up his spine, sharp and visceral, like his blood recognized you before his brain did. His muscles tensed, his breath hitched. He blinked once, hard, trying to suppress the activation, but the red glow remained. Spinning. Steady.

“Sasuke,” Kakashi said from the sidelines, arms crossed, voice firm. “Stand down. Eyes off.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Sasuke muttered.

He hadn’t. That was the worst part.

You hadn’t even touched him yet.

And you—gods, your eyes were wide, full of worry, not fear. “Are you okay?” you whispered, stepping back instead of forward. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He blinked.

You were worried about him?

The match was called off early.

He didn’t say a word as you bowed and shuffled back to your seat, clutching your sleeves. He didn’t even look up when Naruto made some dumb comment about “getting turned on in a fight.” He just sat in stunned silence.

Because his Sharingan had never reacted like that before.

And the second time?

It was even worse.

You were assigned to sit next to him for a paired scroll analysis—nothing physical, nothing strenuous, just reading and translating seal logic from a captured scroll. You barely said a word. You just leaned in, close, your shoulder brushing his, your hair smelling faintly of chamomile.

And again—

Click.

That soft pulse of chakra behind his eyes. The pull of it.

He swore under his breath and pressed two fingers to his temple.

“You okay?” you asked again, voice smaller than last time. “You keep… looking at me like something’s wrong.”

He looked down at you—really looked—and his chest tightened.

Because no, nothing was wrong. Nothing had ever felt so vividly right.

Too right.

He was on edge the whole time, and you noticed. You chewed your lip as you worked. Tilted your head and asked if he needed a break. Every time you leaned in to whisper something, every time your hand brushed his arm, his Sharingan flared.

He lied and said it was fatigue.

But it wasn’t.

It was you.

Kakashi cornered him after class.

“Sasuke.”

“Hm.”

“You’re too reactive.”

“I know.”

“Your Sharingan’s not just reading danger. It’s reading something else.”

Sasuke said nothing.

Kakashi's gaze sharpened. “Be careful with her.”

Sasuke didn’t argue.

Because he had been. Every time. Every class, every spar, every moment he felt you getting closer. He kept his hands to himself. He didn't say the things he wanted to say—like how the way you curled your hands in your sleeves made him ache, or how he dreamed once of your voice in his ear and woke up panting, half-hard, eyes glowing red in the dark.

He didn’t understand it. Not fully.

But his body knew.

And when you looked up at him across the classroom the next morning, lip caught between your teeth, eyes hopeful and unsure, he had to look away before the glow gave him away again.

You started noticing things, too. How Sasuke always seemed too still around you. How his hands flexed when you got too close. How his eyes flashed that eerie, beautiful red even when there was no threat, no danger—just you handing him a brush, just you brushing his sleeve by accident in the hallway, just you whispering his name when you didn’t understand something.

It happened in the training field first. You’d been partnered for drills again. The kind where one person runs through a jutsu and the other disarms. Easy enough.

Except nothing was easy with him anymore.

Because the moment he caught your wrist—just your wrist—his eyes snapped red. And you felt it like a wave, like heat straight through your gut, like a pressure point between your legs that didn’t belong to any nerve textbook.

You gasped. His grip tightened. Then he let go like you’d burned him. He turned away, silent.

But you couldn’t stop looking.

“Why does it always happen around me?” you asked him, the words tumbling out, half breathless, half desperate. “Your Sharingan. It never turns off when we’re close.”

He looked at you then, like he’d been waiting for you to ask. Like he wanted to answer.

“You’re the first person who’s ever made me feel like this,” he said.

And that’s how you ended up here.

In his apartment. On his bed. Stripped to your thighs, your skirt pushed up, your breath stuttering against his mouth while he laid you out beneath him like a secret he’d been aching to touch.

His eyes glowed red above you.

Spinning. Ravenous.

You moaned just looking at them.

“Does it scare you?” he murmured, his voice low, brushing against your lips.

You shook your head. “No.”

“I see everything with these,” he whispered. “Every twitch. Every tremble. Every time your body begs.”

You whimpered.

He kissed you hard.

Then he dragged his hands down your sides—calloused, reverent—until they slid under your thighs and pushed them apart. You trembled beneath him, naked from the waist down now, your panties discarded somewhere on the floor, your cunt slick and throbbing in the open air.

Sasuke looked down at you like he was starving.

The Sharingan spun faster.

“You’re so wet.”

You squeezed your eyes shut.

“No,” he snapped. “Look at me.”

You obeyed. Eyes wide. Cheeks burning. You were already breathing too fast.

“I want to see you when you cum,” he said, voice like gravel and thunder. “I need to.”

And then he thrust inside you.

You screamed—a raw, broken sound, pleasure burning hot and deep, your walls stretching around him with sweet, aching pressure. He filled you completely, his cock thick, hot, veined, dragging against every tender place inside you that you didn’t know existed.

He growled against your neck. “So tight. So perfect.”

You clung to him, shaking. “Sasuke—fuck—it’s too much—”

“No,” he rasped, dragging his hips back and slamming in again. “It’s not enough. I’ve waited too long.”

He set a rhythm, brutal and precise—his hips snapping forward, again and again, driving into you while you sobbed his name against his jaw. His hands gripped your thighs, pinning you open. You felt exposed. Owned. The Sharingan flared brighter, and he groaned like it was feeding off you, off your pleasure, off the way your body clenched around him.

“I can see every fucking twitch,” he groaned, pounding harder. “Every time you get close. You want to cum already?”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Then cum.”

You shattered.

Your body locked up, your cunt spasming around him so hard it knocked the breath from your lungs. You screamed his name again—“Sasuke!”—while your orgasm ripped through you, pulsing hot and endless.

But he didn’t stop.

He kept fucking you, harder now, chasing his own release.

“I’m gonna fill you up,” he snarled, voice raw. “Gonna cum so deep you feel it for days.”

“Do it,” you begged. “Please—please cum—”

His hips slammed forward one last time—and he groaned loud and low as he came, cock twitching deep in your soaked, spasming cunt, hot cum spilling inside you, leaking down your thighs. His Sharingan flickered, glowing blinding for a moment as he groaned your name like it was a prayer.

And then he collapsed over you, breathing ragged.

You were still shaking. Still full.

Still glowing from the inside out.

And when he finally lifted his head, his eyes were dark again.

But he was still watching you like he’d never seen anything more dangerous—or more precious—in his life.

#✦⁺⸝⸝ @smut #⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀#sasuke x you #sasuke x reader #sasuke #sasuke naruto x reader #sasuke uchihasmut #naruto x reader #sasuke uchiha x reader #naruto smut #sasuke smut #uchiha smut #anime smut #anime x reader #anime x fem!reader #fem!reader #smut x reader

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sixeyesonathiel · 3 months ago

Text

the spoils of sanctity

pairing — holy knight gojo x demon princess reader

cw: heavy dubcon, noncon elements, yandere themes, power imbalance, explicit sexual content (oral sex—forced fellatio, penetrative sex—vaginal, tail play, cock slapping, clit slapping, nipple play, edging, multiple orgasms, creampie, breeding kink, cervix penetration, sex positions—kneeling oral, bent-over doggy style, missionary with hips tilted, folded missionary, face-down doggy, pinned missionary, cowgirl), brat taming, dacryphilia, degradation/humiliation, corruption/dumbification, mind break, forced submission, public humiliation mentions, restraint/bondage (sashes, choker enchantment), asphyxiation (throat squeezing during oral), size kink, sadism, perverted behavior, religious sacrilege (mock prayers, holy/demonic themes), pseudo-marital dynamics (trophy wife as a literal prized possession), 18+ only, minors DNI. 10k+ wc.

a/n : damn. i may have written satoru here a lil too freaky.

the war had torn the world apart, kingdoms reduced to ash and bone, and satoru, the holy knight, stood as its shining fucking savior. the people wept at his feet, praising his blessed sword, his sanctified armor, his pure goddamn soul. they thought he’d dragged you—the demon princess, half-human spawn of filth and pride—back to the palace to purge the evil from your veins. to correct you. to save the world from your clawed, defiant existence.

they were wrong.

so fucking wrong.

behind the palace walls, he wasn’t saving shit. he was breaking you. claiming you. turning you into his collared little trophy wife, a prize he’d won with blood and steel. the world saw mercy in his grip on your leash. you saw the truth: a perverted freak who got off on your humiliation, who wanted to fuck the humanity into your demon half until you cracked.

his private chambers smelled like wax and sin, the air thick with the flicker of sanctified gold candles lining the walls. their light danced over the stone, over the tattered remains of your finery—black silk shredded at the thighs, clinging to your sweat-slick skin like a second hide. your wrists burned where the ceremonial sashes bit into them, the same ones that had once bound saints, now twisted to tether you to the floor. he’d repurposed them with a smirk, his big hands tugging the knots tight, like he was wrapping a fucking gift.

satoru loomed over you, all white hair and sharp blue eyes, his armor shed to reveal the taut muscle beneath a thin tunic. holy knight, my ass. he looked like a predator playing dress-up, and you were the prey he’d been salivating over since the battlefield. your tail twitched behind you, black and forked, a little rebellion against the restraints. he noticed. of course he fucking noticed.

“still got some fight in you, huh?” his voice was low, mocking, as he crouched down, fingers brushing the edge of your jaw. “thought i’d beaten that out of you by now, princess.”

you bared your teeth, a snarl ripping from your throat. “i’ll claw your fucking eyes out, you sanctimonious prick.”

he laughed—deep, filthy, and it made your stomach twist in a way you hated. “oh, i’d love to see you try. but first—” he reached into a velvet pouch at his hip, pulling out the choker. it glowed faintly, a thin band of silver etched with runes, pulsing with some holy enchantment that made your skin crawl. “—let’s get you dressed up proper.”

you jerked back, but the sashes held firm, yanking a hiss from your lips. “don’t you fucking dare—”

too late. his hands were fast, wrapping the choker around your throat, the clasp clicking shut with a sound that echoed in your skull. the enchantment hit instantly—your demonic power dulled, a heavy fog settling over the fire in your veins. but that wasn’t the worst part. no, the worst part was the way it fucking glowed, a soft pulse of light that brightened when your body betrayed you. and it was already flickering, damn it, because his fingers lingered on your neck, brushing the sensitive skin there, and you couldn’t stop the heat pooling low in your gut.

he stepped back, tilting his head like he was admiring a painting. “look at that glow, princess. you’re already begging—and i haven’t even touched you.”

“fuck you,” you spat, cheeks burning as the choker pulsed brighter. you hated it—hated him—hated the way your thighs clenched under his stare.

“oh, i will.” he grinned, all teeth and perversion, then grabbed your tail in one swift yank. the jolt shot through you like lightning, a gasp tearing out before you could stop it. your body arched, writhing against the sashes, and he tightened his grip, tugging just hard enough to make you squirm. “sensitive there, huh? perfect.”

you wanted to rip his throat out. instead, you glared, panting, the choker glowing like a fucking beacon. he watched it pulse, his eyes darkening with something sick and hungry, and then he moved. one arm slid under your back, the other under your knees, hoisting you up bridal-style like some twisted mockery of a wedding night. your tail lashed against his chest, but he just chuckled, carrying you across the room with infuriating ease.

“put me down, you bastard—” your words cut off as he dropped you, not gently, onto your knees. the stone bit into your skin, cold and unforgiving, and you glared up at him, chest heaving.

he didn’t say a word. just smirked, stepping back to grab something from the edge of the room—a mirror, tall and angled, dragging it over until it faced you dead-on. your reflection stared back: disheveled, flushed, the choker glowing like a neon fucking sign.

the candles flickered as he adjusted the mirror, the scrape of its base against the floor loud in the tense silence. you stayed on your knees, the sashes still binding your wrists behind you, your tail flicking uselessly against the stone. every muscle screamed to lunge at him, to sink your claws into that smug face, but the choker’s enchantment weighed you down, dulling your strength to something pitifully human. it pissed you off. he pissed you off. and yet, your body was buzzing, the heat from his touch still lingering, the choker’s glow a constant reminder of how fucked you were.

he didn’t rush. he savored it, peeling off his tunic slow enough to make you twitch with impatience, revealing the hard planes of his chest, the faint scars crisscrossing his skin—proof he wasn’t just some prissy knight playing hero. he was a fighter, a killer, and now he was your goddamn captor. the pants came next, sliding down his hips, and you couldn’t help it—your eyes flicked to the bulge straining his undercloth, thick and heavy, and the choker pulsed brighter. fuck. he caught it, of course, his grin widening as he stepped closer, cock springing free when he shoved the fabric down.

“like what you see, princess?” he taunted, fisting himself lazily, the tip already glistening. “don’t worry, you’ll get a real good taste.”

you snarled, baring your teeth again. “i’d rather choke on glass.”

“cute.” he closed the distance, towering over you, the mirror framing the whole filthy scene—your knees on the stone, his shadow swallowing you whole. “but you’re gonna choke on this instead.”

you fought the urge to vomit, glaring up, defiance blazing in your chest, lips sealed tight, jaw clenched. no fucking way you were giving him this. not without a fight.

“open up,” he said, voice all smooth mockery, like he was coaxing a stray dog. “don’t make me ask twice, princess.”

“make me,” you shot back, flashing your fangs, a bratty snarl curling your lips. your tail flicked behind you, smacking the floor, and his eyes gleamed—dark, perverted, like he’d been waiting for that exact answer.

“oh, i will,” he said, and he moved—fast as hell. one hand clamped your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks, forcing your mouth open just enough, and the other swung his cock down, slapping it against your cheek with a wet, humiliating smack. your head jerked, a snarl caught in your throat, and the choker flared bright, glowing like a fucking spotlight in the mirror.

he did it again—harder, the head smearing pre-cum across your skin, the sound echoing sharp and filthy. your eyes watered, not from pain but from the sheer rage boiling up, tears welling up as you glared, unblinking, refusing to let them fall.

“look at that,” he purred, leaning down, breath hot against your ear. “tears already? didn’t know demons could get so worked up.” his thumb brushed the corner of your eye, smearing the dampness, and you snapped your teeth at him, missing by an inch. he laughed—low, nasty, and it made your stomach twist.

“you’re not a princess anymore,” he growled, straightening up, fisting his cock right in front of you. “you’re my wife. say it.”

“fuck. you,” you hissed, voice dripping venom, tears brimming but holding, your glare cutting through the haze. the choker glowed brighter, betraying the heat pooling low in your gut, and he grinned, all teeth and sick delight.

“wrong answer,” he said, and then he shoved himself in—no warning, no buildup, just the thick, hot length of him filling your mouth, hitting the back of your throat so fast you gagged hard. your eyes widened, tears welling hotter, stinging as you fought to breathe, your throat spasming around him. he groaned, deep and guttural, like it was the best fucking thing he’d ever felt, and his hand fisted in your hair, yanking the sash tied there, pulling tight enough to make your scalp burn.

“that’s it,” he grunted, hips rocking slow at first, dragging it out, letting you feel every inch. “take it, you nasty demon slut. choke on your holy knight.”

you did—fuck, you couldn’t stop it. your throat clenched, spit dripping down your chin, and every gag made him thrust deeper, harder, picking up speed until your head spun. the tears wouldn’t stay back now, pooling in your eyes, blurring your vision, but you glared through them, locking onto his face—his smug, perverted grin, the way his blue eyes drank in every twitch, every flinch. he slid his free hand down, fingers wrapping around your throat, pressing the choker into your skin, cutting off your air just enough to make your chest tighten.

“can’t breathe, huh?” he cooed, voice dripping with fake sympathy as he squeezed tighter, fucking your throat with a rhythm that left you dizzy. “poor little half-breed, choking on my cock. just relax—let it happen. i’ll take care of you.”

you gagged again, harder, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth, and the tears brimmed over, not falling yet, just sitting there, heavy and hot, as you glared up at him, defiant even with your air gone. your tail lashed out, smacking his thigh, and he tightened his grip, cutting off more, his thumb stroking the glowing choker like it was a toy.

“keep fighting,” he rasped, voice rough with lust, hips snapping faster. “makes it better when you break. look at those eyes—fuck, you’re gorgeous like this, all teary and pissed.”

your lungs burned, your throat raw, every thrust making you gag louder, wetter, until your vision swam. he talked you through it, nasty and low—“breathe when i let you, slut. yeah, just like that, gag on it, let me feel that throat”—and you hated how your body reacted, hated the slick pooling between your thighs, the choker pulsing wild and bright like a damn beacon. he groaned again, louder, his grip on your hair tightening, and then he pushed deeper—nose pressed to his pelvis, air completely gone, holding you there as your throat spasmed helplessly.

“fuck, yes,” he growled, watching your eyes, the tears trembling but not spilling, your glare still burning through the haze. “look at you, choking so pretty. holy salvation’s too much for you, huh?”

you wanted to claw his face off. wanted to scream, bite, anything—but all you could do was glare, tears welling thicker, chest heaving as he finally eased up, pulling back just enough to let you suck in a ragged, desperate breath. spit strung from your lips to his cock, and he smirked, wiping it with his thumb, smearing it across your cheek.

“aw, poor thing,” he said, sarcastic as hell, when you coughed, gasping, throat wrecked. “can’t take it? too bad—i’m not done.” he shoved back in, slower this time, dragging it out, letting you feel every inch as he fucked your mouth again, hand still on your throat, squeezing light then hard, playing with your air like a game. “cry for me, princess. let me see those tears fall.”

they didn’t—fuck him, you wouldn’t let them to—but they sat there, heavy and defiant, as you gagged and glared, the choker glowing so bright it lit up the mirror behind you. your reflection showed it all: your wrecked face, his cock stretching your lips, the sashes binding you tight. his breaths grew ragged, his thrusts sloppy, and then he came—hot, thick, spilling down your throat in pulses you couldn’t escape. he held you there, choking you through it, forcing you to swallow every drop, his fingers digging into your neck as he groaned, long and filthy.

“good girl,” he purred, pulling out slow, a string of spit and cum connecting your lips to his tip. “look at you, all messy and fucked out.” he wiped your mouth with his hand, smearing it more, and you coughed, gasping, the taste of him bitter and overwhelming. your eyes burned, tears still welling but not falling, and you glared up, chest heaving, tail twitching uselessly behind you.

he didn’t give you a second to recover—just hauled you up by the arms, your legs wobbling, weak from kneeling, and threw you over his shoulder like a sack. your tail dangled against his back, smacking him weakly, and the mirror caught it: your flushed, teary-eyed glare, his smug grin, the choker still glowing faintly as he carried you off, ready to break you more.

the room spun as he carried you, the candles flickering low, wax dripping onto the stone like little tears he couldn’t wring from you. your throat ached, raw and bruised, spit and cum still slick on your chin, and those damn tears sat heavy in your eyes, stinging but stubborn, refusing to spill.

your tail flicked against his back, a weak protest he ignored, and your wrists burned where the sashes dug in, your body buzzing with rage and something darker—something the choker wouldn’t let you hide. he crossed the room in long strides, the mirror looming ahead, and then he dropped you—hard—onto your knees, the stone biting into your skin. you hissed, tail lashing out to smack his leg, and he laughed, kicking your thighs apart with his boot, setting you up for the next round.

the mirror threw it all back at you—your knees pressed into the cold stone, your flushed face staring back, hair wild, the choker glowing like a fucking spotlight around your throat. your tattered silk hung off you in shreds, barely covering shit, and satoru loomed behind you, all muscle and menace, his tunic long gone, scars crisscrossing his chest like some holy warrior’s badge. but there was nothing holy about the way his hands slid down to grip your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to leave bruises, or the way he tore the silk aside with one rough yank, exposing your ass and the dripping mess between your legs. the air hit your skin, sharp and humiliating, and he groaned low in his throat, like he’d just unwrapped a goddamn present he couldn’t wait to ruin.

“look at that,” he muttered, voice crude and thick, one hand sliding up to grab your tail, yanking it hard enough to make you yelp. the jolt shot through you, your body jerking, and tears welled up fast, hot and heavy in your eyes as you glared at him in the mirror. “already soaked for me, huh? some fucking demon princess you are—dripping like a cheap whore. you sure you’re not some lowly succubus?”

“die,” you snarled, twisting against his grip, claws scraping the stone, but he tightened his hold, pulling your tail up and back, forcing your hips to tilt for him. the choker pulsed violently, glowing brighter with every ounce of heat pooling in your core, and he laughed—dark, filthy, leaning down until his breath ghosted your ear, all teeth and sick delight.

“nah, you don’t get to talk back, slut,” he said, crude as hell for a holy knight, his free hand grabbing his cock—thick, heavy, way too fucking big—and lining it up, the head brushing your entrance, teasing, not pushing in yet. “you’re gonna thank me for this. every thrust—say it. say thank you, or i’ll leave you here, leaking and desperate.”

“like hell—” your words choked off as he slammed into you, no warning, no mercy, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. your scream bounced off the walls, raw and ragged, your body jolting forward until your palms slapped the stone, claws digging in hard. fuck, he was huge—too huge—stretching you so wide it burned, splitting you open, and the tears brimmed thicker, stinging your eyes as you glared at him, refusing to let them spill.

“say it,” he growled, hips snapping against your ass, the wet slap of skin on skin loud and obscene. he grabbed your tail tighter, using it like a goddamn leash to yank you back onto him, each thrust deeper, harder, his cock hitting spots that made your vision blur. “thank me, princess, or i’ll stop right now.”

you only gritted your teeth, stubborn, claws raking the floor, defiance burning even as your body shook under him. he stopped—dead still, cock buried so deep you felt it in your guts, the sudden lack of motion making you twitch, your breath hitching. “no? fine. then you don’t get shit,” he said, voice low and mocking, his hand sliding up to press your face against the mirror, smearing your cheek into the glass, your hot breath fogging it up.

“you bastard—” you started, but he pulled your tail again, sharp and punishing, and thrust once—hard, slow, dragging it out—before stopping again. your eyes fluttered, tears welling hotter, the choker glowing so bright it lit up your wrecked reflection—hair tangled, lips parted, those damn tears welling up as you glared.

“say it,” he repeated, voice dark and dangerous, his cock twitching inside you, teasing you with how full you felt. “or i’ll leave you like this, dripping and empty, with that pretty little choker telling everyone what a needy slut you are.”

you hated him—hated the smug tilt of his mouth, the way his blue eyes glittered with perverted glee, drinking in your teary glare like it was fucking wine. but your body was screaming, aching, and the words clawed their way out, bitter and sharp. “thank you,” you muttered, barely audible, venom dripping from every syllable.

“louder,” he snapped, thrusting again, slow and deliberate, dragging his massive cock out then back in, making you feel every inch. “mean it, or i’ll fuck you dry and leave you begging.”

“thank you!” you spat, louder, the humiliation burning hotter than the stretch, your tears trembling on the edge as you glared at him in the mirror. he grinned, satisfied, and then he let loose—fucking you rough and relentless, each thrust shoving you harder against the mirror, your cheek pressed tight, your breath fogging the glass in quick, desperate pants.

“look at you,” he purred, voice dripping with sarcasm, his hand sliding down to grip your hip while the other tugged your tail rhythmically, matching his brutal pace. “being good for once. my holy cock’s ruining you, huh? turning you into my perfect little cocksleeve.”

you couldn’t answer—couldn’t think—your body shaking under the onslaught, the choker glowing like a damn star as he pounded into you. the mirror showed it all: your ass bouncing with every thrust, your tail twitching in his grip, your flushed face with those tears welling up, defiant and furious. he leaned down, teeth grazing your shoulder, and his voice turned crude, nasty, a holy knight gone feral.

“what if your subjects saw you now, huh?” he growled, thrusting harder, his cock stretching you so wide it hurt in the best fucking way. “their proud little princess, ass up, choking on the dick of the knight who slayed her father for mercy. bet they’d love to see you crying for it—tears all pretty, pussy leaking like a tavern wench.”

“shut—up,” you gasped, voice breaking, the tears trembling heavier now, your glare sharpening even as your body betrayed you, clenching around him. he groaned at that, loud and filthy, his hand sliding up to cup your jaw, tilting your head so you had to watch yourself—watch him fuck you into the stone.

“nah, i’d parade you like this,” he said, crude and gleeful, his cock slamming in so deep you swore you felt it in your throat. “show ‘em how their haughty little half-demon queen takes it—tail yanked, choker glowing, all teary-eyed and fucked stupid. they’d bow to me instead, huh?”

your claws dug into the stone, scraping hard, and you tried to crawl away—knees scraping, tail lashing, anything to escape the heat, the shame, the way his words made you throb despite yourself.

satoru only yanked your tail hard, pulling you back with a growl, his cock grinding in deep, holding you there. “oh no you don’t,” he said, breath hot against your neck, teeth nipping your skin. “you don’t get to run from this.”

he shifted, one hand sliding under you, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast and rough while he fucked you, and the tears welled thicker, your glare burning through the mirror as your body tensed. “cry for me,” he muttered, voice low and nasty, his thrusts slowing but hitting harder, deeper, his dick so big it felt like it was rearranging you. “let me see those tears, princess—gimme something to jerk off to later.”

“fucking pervert,” you rasped, voice raw, the tears trembling on the edge, your hips bucking despite yourself as he worked you closer, the heat coiling tight, so fucking tight. he laughed, crude and dark, his fingers relentless, his cock grinding in just right, and you felt it—the edge, right there, your whole body shaking, the choker glowing blindingly bright.

“gonna cum already?” he taunted, leaning down, licking a stripe up your neck, his voice a filthy whisper. “thought you were tougher than that, demon slut. go on—thank me again. louder.”

“thank you,” you choked out, half-snarl, half-moan, the tears trembling, your glare locked on his smug face as your body started to unravel, the pleasure crashing in hard. but he stopped—pulled out completely, fingers off your clit, leaving you hanging right on the brink, a wrecked, shaking mess. your scream was pure frustration, raw and pissed, your tail lashing out to smack his chest, and he laughed, loud and filthy, stepping back to admire you—ass up, dripping, teary-eyed, and glaring like you’d kill him.

“not yet, princess,” he says, voice dark and promising, his cock still hard, glistening with your mess, bobbing as he shifts his weight. he leans in close, breath hot against your neck, and grabs your tail—fingers wrapping tight around its base, yanking it hard enough to make you yelp, tears pricking sharper, your hips jolting back into him.

“we’ve got more to play with,” he growls, crude and gleeful, tugging again, slower now, dragging you backward step by step, your knees scraping the stone as he pulls you toward the bed.

the mattress looms ahead, plush and draped in rich silks, and he shoves you forward, your palms sinking into its softness as you catch yourself, ass still raised, tail twitching in his grip. he releases it with a rough swat, climbing onto the bed, settling back against the headboard, legs spread wide, cock heavy and waiting. he pats his lap, grinning like a bastard, daring you to crawl up, his eyes glinting with perverse hunger.

“if you’re so strong,” he taunted, voice dripping with that sick, perverted glee, “ride me. show me that demon pride you’re so fucking proud of.”

you glared, chest heaving, the choker flickering as your blood boiled, those tears welling up hotter from the sheer audacity of him. no way you were letting this smug prick win easy—he wanted you to climb up and take him? fine. you’d ram it down his throat, make him choke on his own game.

with a snarl, you crawled onto the bed, the silk soft under your knees, and straddled him, your tail flicking behind you like a whip, smacking the mattress in a bratty little tantrum. he grinned, leaning back, one hand stroking his cock slow and deliberate—thick, massive, glistening with your slick from before—the other beckoning you closer like you were some pet he owned.

“go on, princess,” he said, eyes glinting with dark delight, drinking in your glare, the way your lashes fluttered with unshed tears. “prove you’re not just a trophy wife. show me what that half-demon filth can do.”

“watch me, you sanctimonious fuck,” you snapped, bratty as hell, planting your hands on his chest. your claws dug in, scratching red lines across his skin, and he hissed—pure pleasure, not pain, the sadistic freak.

you braced yourself, lining up over him, the thick head of his cock nudging your entrance, and fuck, he was huge—bigger than you’d clocked up close, a monster that made your thighs tremble just looking at it. you started to lower, slow, cautious, feeling the stretch burn right away, and your breath hitched, a whimper slipping out before you could bite it back.

how did it even fit inside you earlier?

it was too much—way too fucking much. you got an inch down, maybe two, and the tears welled thicker, stinging your eyes as you glared at him, refusing to let them fall. the choker flared, bright and humiliating, glowing with every twitch of your hips. you forced yourself further, another inch, gasping as the stretch split you open, your claws raking his chest harder, leaving bloody streaks he didn’t even flinch at.

“pathetic, huh?” he muttered, voice low and crude, his eyes a sea of crazed blue, pupils blown wide, locked on your face—on the way your brows knit, your lips parted, the tears trembling as you struggled.

“shut up,” you hissed, panting, shifting your hips to try again. you sank lower, slow and stubborn, determined to take him, and a choked moan tore from your throat as he stretched you wider, deeper, the burn mixing with a heat you hated. your tail lashed wildly, smacking his thigh, and he grabbed it fast, yanking it just enough to make you jolt, the choker glowing brighter, your slick coating him as you squirmed.

you pushed down harder, forcing yourself, and then—fuck—he hit your cervix, the blunt pressure making you cry out, raw and sharp, your whole body shuddering as you finally bottomed out.

the tears spilled then, hot and unwilling, streaking down your cheeks as you glared at him, chest heaving, thighs shaking from the effort. you’d done it—three shaky, agonizing thrusts, riding him slow and deliberate, your claws digging into his chest for balance.

but it wasn’t enough for the impatient bastard beneath you—too slow, too fucking tentative—and he groaned, low and frustrated, his hands slamming onto your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise.

“fuck this,” he growled, crude and impatient, his holy knight patience cracking wide open. “you’re too damn slow, princess—thought you’d ride me like a queen, not whimper like a bitch.” before you could snap back, he took over—lifting you up like you weighed nothing, then slamming you back down onto his cock, full force, the head smashing your cervix again. your scream echoed, raw and desperate, tears streaming now as he filled you completely, the stretch so intense your vision blurred.

he didn’t stop—bounced you again, harder, using you like a fucking ragdoll, his grip iron-tight on your hips. up and down, fast and brutal, each drop driving him deeper, hitting your cervix every time, the wet slap of your ass against his thighs filling the room.

“that’s better,” he grunted, eyes locked on your face, drinking in every tear, every gasp, every twist of your expression like a perverted addict. “look at you—crying on my cock, princess. so fucking pretty when you break.”

“fuck—you—” you gasped, voice cracking with every thrust, your body shaking in his hands, the tears falling freely now, hot and bitter, your glare still burning through them. the choker glowed violently, a pulsing spotlight on how soaked you were, how your thighs clenched around him despite your snarls.

he laughed, dark and filthy, one hand sliding up to grab your tail again, tugging it in time with his rhythm.

“what’s wrong, princess?” he purred, bouncing you faster, his massive cock spearing you, the pressure on your cervix making your sobs louder, your tears streaming harder. “too big for that demon pride? too holy for your filthy little cunt? i’m cleansing you, slut—fucking all that evil right out of you.”

you couldn’t answer—couldn’t think—your claws scrabbling at his chest, leaving bloody trails he ignored, your sobs mixing with moans you hated yourself for. he kept going, watching you fall apart, his breaths ragged but controlled, like he was edging himself too—holding back just to savor how fucking gorgeous you looked, all teary and wrecked.

“cry harder,” he growled, crude and sadistic, his voice rough with lust. “gimme those tears—holy knights like me live for this shit, purifying dirty little demons with big, fat cocks.”

your legs started to give out, muscles trembling, and you slumped forward, chest slamming into his, face buried in his neck as he kept bouncing you, relentless, his dick grinding so deep it hurt in the best way.

“aw, poor thing,” he cooed, sarcastic as hell, one hand fisting in your hair, yanking your head back to see your tear-streaked face. “can’t take it? too bad—i’m not even close to done.”

he slowed then, just a little, grinding you down onto him, letting you feel every inch of that massive length, his cock throbbing inside you as he watched you sob, tears dripping onto his chest.

“fuck, you’re too pretty like this,” he muttered, almost to himself, his voice low and crude. “all teary and fucked out—makes me wanna cum, but nah, i’m a patient man. holy, right? gotta drag this out, keep cleansing you till you’re pure.”

you were shaking, sobbing, the heat coiling tight in your gut, every grind pushing you closer, your body betraying you as you rocked against him, chasing it despite the tears, the humiliation. he groaned, eyes fluttering, his own edge creeping up, but he held back, sadistic bastard that he was, loving how you looked too much to let it end.

“gonna cum, huh?” he taunted, voice a filthy whisper as he felt you tense, your sobs turning to desperate gasps. “go on—thank me and i might let you. say it, slut.”

“thank you,” you choked out, half-snarl, half-sob, tears streaming as your glare locked on his smug face, your body right there, teetering on the edge, so fucking close. but he stopped—yanked you off his cock completely, flipping you onto your back in one swift, brutal move, the silk soft against your spine as he pinned you down, his dick hovering over you, hard and dripping, his grin wide and wicked.

“not yet,” he said, voice dark and crude, his chest heaving as he edged himself too, holding back just to watch you writhe. “we’re switching it up, princess—got more filth to fuck out of you.”

he didn’t let you whine about the loss and denial—just yanked the sashes up, tying your wrists tight to the headboard, and forced your legs wide, turning the plush bed into some fucked-up altar. his bite mark throbbed on your shoulder, his cum smeared your skin, and he settled between your thighs, eyes gleaming with that perverted, possessive hunger, ready to wreck you all over again.

he knelt there, all holy knight bullshit on the surface—white hair catching the candlelight, sharp jaw set like he was about to pray—but his hands were pure filth, sliding up your thighs slow, thumbs brushing the slick mess he’d left behind, smearing it like he was marking you. your tail flicked, smacking his wrist in a bratty little rebellion, and he grabbed it fast, pinning it to the bed with a rough tsk, his fingers digging in just enough to sting.

“still got some fight, huh?” he said, voice low and mocking, spreading your legs wider until the stretch burned, exposing your dripping cunt to the cool air. “let’s see how long that lasts, you filthy demon whore.”

his fingers traced your folds, slow and teasing, dipping just barely into your entrance—light, shallow, not enough to do anything but make you twitch. the choker flickered, a faint glow pulsing with your heartbeat, and you hissed, tugging at the sashes, the knots biting your wrists.

“don’t you fucking dare—” you started, ultimately annoyed at his backtracking, but he cut you off, sliding one finger in—just one, knuckle-deep, curling it slow to graze that spot inside that made your hips jerk up, chasing more despite wanting something else.

“shh,” he murmured, crude and dark, his other hand pressing your stomach flat, pinning you still as he worked that finger in and out, agonizingly slow, letting the heat coil tight in your gut. “holy things take time, princess. you’re still a dirty fucking mess—gotta clean you up proper.”

you snarled, thrashing against the sashes, but he held you down, adding a second finger, stretching you just enough to make you gasp, then stopping—completely still, letting you clench around him, your breath hitching as you glared, tears welling up hot and heavy.

“please,” you spat, venom dripping, and he smirked, pulling his fingers out slow, dragging them along your walls until they slipped free, leaving you empty. your sob echoed, raw and pissed, and the choker flared brighter, slick dripping down your thighs as you bucked your hips, desperate for anything.

“not good enough,” he said, voice a filthy lilt, chanting some mock-prayer bullshit—“purify this sinner, wash her clean”—while his fingers went to your clit, rubbing light, maddening circles that made your whole body tense, teetering right on the brink. your tears spilled then, streaking down your cheeks as you glared at him, defiant even through the haze, and he groaned low, like the sight of you crying was better than fucking you.

“look at those tears,” he muttered, crude and gleeful, leaning down to lick one off your cheek, his tongue hot and slow. “crying for my cock already? pathetic little half-breed.” he pulled back, grabbing his dick—still hard, massive, dripping—and slapped it against your clit, the wet smack loud and humiliating. your body jolted, a choked moan tearing out, and the choker glowed violent, lighting up your wrecked face in the dim room.

he didn’t stop—kept it up, relentless, playing you like a damn fiddle. he’d drag his cock along your slit, slow and teasing, nudging your clit with the head, then pull back, slapping it down again, each hit making your hips buck, your sobs louder, tears streaming as you glared through them.

“damn you,” you rasped, voice hoarse, tail lashing out to smack his arm, but he pinned it down, laughing soft and dark as he leaned in, breath hot against your cunt.

“keep crying,” he purred, crude as hell, licking one slow, deliberate stripe up your slit, stopping just shy of your clit. your whole body arched, a scream caught in your throat, and he pulled back, slapping his cock against you again—harder, the sting sharp and electric. “holy knight’s gotta taste that demon filth—wash it out with my tongue, huh?”

he dove in then, but never enough—tongue flicking your clit light and quick, then pulling away right as your thighs started to shake. he’d suck it hard, lips sealing around it, only to pop off with a wet smack, leaving you gasping, sobbing, the tears falling faster as he watched, eyes dark with sick delight.

“so fucking pretty,” he muttered, sliding two fingers back in, pumping them deep, curling them just right until your hips rocked, your breath hitching, then yanking them out, smearing your slick across your thigh.

“please—fuck—please,” you choked out, half-snarl, half-sob, the tears burning your eyes as you glared, your pride shredded, your body screaming for release. he grinned, grabbing his cock again, slapping it against your clit in a quick, brutal rhythm—smack, smack, smack—each hit making you flinch, your sobs turning to desperate gasps, the choker glowing so bright it hurt to look at.

“begging now, huh?” he said, voice rough with lust, leaning over you, his cock brushing your oversensitive folds, teasing, not pushing in. “thought you’d kill me—where’s that fire, princess? all i see is a teary little slut, dripping for me.”

he slapped his cock down again, harder, the wet sound obscene, and your tail lashed out, smacking his chest, weak but furious. he grabbed it, yanking it hard, making you yelp, tears streaming as he pinned it to the bed.

“gonna break you slow,” he growled, sliding his fingers back in—three this time, stretching you wide, pumping them fast and deep, curling them just right until your whole body tensed, your sobs loud and broken. he’d pull them out right as you started to shake, leaving you clenching around nothing, then slap his cock against your clit again, over and over, the sting mixing with the heat until your mind was a haze of need and rage.

he kept it going—hours, minutes, who fucking knew—switching it up just when you thought you’d snap. he’d lick you slow, tongue dragging along your folds, then stop to suck your clit hard, pulling off with a grin as you screamed. he’d fuck you shallow with his fingers, then deep, then pull out, slapping your cunt with his hand, then his cock, each hit making your tears fall faster, your glare burning through the haze.

“holy work’s never quick,” he’d murmur, crude and dark, licking your tears again, groaning against your skin. “gotta purify you, my filthy bride—cry all you want, it’s just making me harder.”

your body was a wreck—shaking, sobbing, slick pooling beneath you, the choker glowing blindingly bright as he played you, every nerve on fire. he’d tease his cock against your entrance, pushing in just the tip, letting you feel the stretch, then pull out, slapping it against your clit again, laughing as you bucked, your sobs turning to desperate, broken pleas.

“i’ll kill you,” you rasped, voice raw, tears streaming as he hovered over you, his dick brushing your folds, his eyes locked on your teary glare.

“cute,” satoru only purred, slapping his cock down one last time, hard and wet, making you flinch, your whole body trembling, right on the edge, so fucking close you could taste it.

but he didn’t let you—pulled back completely, leaving you panting, sobbing, a wrecked mess tied to the bed, as he loomed over you, his massive dick hard and dripping, his eyes dark with that perverted hunger, chest heaving from his own restraint. he untied the sashes, letting your arms flop uselessly, then grabbed your hips, flipping you onto your back with a cocky smirk.

he didn’t waste a second—hands clamped on your hips, yanking you down the bed until your ass hit his thighs, your legs splayed wide over his. the silk bunched under your back, damp and warm, sticking to your skin as he knelt between your legs, his cock hovering over your cunt, thick and heavy, the head glistening with pre-cum and your slick.

your chest heaved, tears still streaming, your glare burning through the haze as you rasped, “you’re a fucking monster,” voice raw and broken from sobbing.

“and you’re my filthy little demon,” he shot back, crude and dark, grabbing his dick and slapping it against your clit one last time—smack—the wet sound loud and obscene, making you flinch, a sob tearing out as the choker flared. “gonna breed that evil right out of you, princess—fill you up till you’re clean.”

he lined up, the head nudging your entrance, and thrust in—hard, deep, no mercy, burying himself to the hilt in one brutal snap of his hips. your scream was instant, guttural, your body arching off the bed as he stretched you wide, his cock slamming past your limits, hitting your cervix with a dull, aching thud.

thee tears fell faster, your glare dissolving into a desperate, teary mess as the heat exploded, the orgasm crashing through you immediately—weeks, hours, who fucking knew—of pent-up need unraveling in a single thrust. your cunt clenched around him, tight and pulsing, slick gushing out, soaking his thighs as your legs shook, toes curling, a raw, “fuck—fuck—” spilling from your lips.

“there it is,” he groaned, voice rough and filthy, his hands digging into your hips, holding you still as you spasmed around him, your first release ripping through you like a storm. “cumming already, huh? such a needy little slut—couldn’t even wait for me to move.”

he didn’t stop—didn’t even pause—just started fucking you through it, slow at first, dragging his cock out inch by inch, letting you feel the stretch, the way your walls fluttered, then slamming back in, hard and deep, hitting that aching spot again.

the sensation was overwhelming—his cock filled you completely, thick and unyielding, the head grinding against your cervix with every thrust, a dull, bruising ache mixing with the sharp, electric pleasure still buzzing from your orgasm.

your thighs trembled, spread wide over his, the muscles twitching as he kept your legs pinned, knees bent slightly, feet dangling uselessly in the air. the silk rubbed your back raw, your spine arching every time he drove in, your breasts bouncing with the force, nipples hard and sensitive against the cool air.

“look at you,” he growled, crude and sadistic, one hand sliding up to grab your tail, yanking it hard enough to make you yelp, tears streaming as he twisted it in his fist. “crying like a bitch while i fuck you clean—holy knight’s dick too much for your demon filth, huh?” he thrust harder, faster, the wet slap of his hips against your ass loud and relentless, your slick dripping down onto the silk, pooling beneath you.

your second orgasm hit fast, spurred by his tail yank and the brutal pace—your cunt spasmed again, tighter this time, a hot rush of slick coating him as you screamed, voice breaking, “fuck you—fuck—” the tears wouldn’t stop, your glare flickering, softening into something dazed as your body shook, the pleasure too much, too soon. your clit throbbed, oversensitive from his slaps, and every thrust sent a jolt through it, sharp and searing, making your toes curl harder, your breath hitching in short, desperate gasps.

“that’s two,” he purred, voice dark and gleeful, leaning down to lick a tear off your cheek, his tongue hot and slow, groaning against your skin. “sobbing so pretty—keep it up, princess, i’m gonna flood that filthy womb.” he shifted, hands sliding under your thighs, lifting them slightly, bending your knees more, tilting your hips up so he could hit deeper—straighter—his cock grinding into your cervix with every thrust, the pressure building, aching, making you sob louder.

the position burned—your thighs stretched wide, muscles straining, your hips tilted at an angle that left you completely open, vulnerable, his weight pressing down as he fucked you into the bed. the silk caught every drop of slick, every tear that fell, your arms limp at your sides, claws digging into the bedding as he pounded you, the sensation splitting you apart—sharp pleasure, dull pain, all of it blending into a haze. your third orgasm crept up slow, coiling tight as he kept that brutal rhythm, his cock dragging along your walls, the head smashing your cervix, your clit rubbing against his pelvis with every thrust.

“holy fuck,” he grunted, crude and breathless, his own restraint fraying as he watched you unravel, your tears glistening in the candlelight, your face flushed and wrecked. “look at that—crying and cumming, such a perfect breeding bitch.”

he yanked your tail again, harder, and you screamed, the sound raw and broken as your third hit, your cunt pulsing around him, slick flooding out, soaking his cock, his thighs, the bed—a wet, messy gush that made him groan louder, his thrusts faltering for a second before he picked up again, relentless.

your body shook, legs trembling, the sensation electric—your clit throbbed against him, your walls clenched tight, the pressure on your cervix a deep, aching pulse that made your sobs turn to whimpers, your glare fading into a glassy, teary stare.

“can’t—fuck—can’t take it,” you gasped, voice slurring, your hands clawing at the silk, tail twitching in his grip as he kept fucking you through it, drawing it out, the wet squelch of your cunt loud and obscene.

“you’ll take it,” he growled, crude and dark, shifting again—hands sliding under your ass, lifting you higher, your hips off the bed now, your lower back arching as he folded you more, knees pushed toward your chest. “gonna fuck you till you’re pure—till you’re dripping with me, slut.” the new angle was brutal—his cock hit even deeper, straighter, every thrust slamming your cervix, the pressure sharp and relentless, your clit grinding harder against him, sending jolts through your whole body.

your fourth orgasm crashed in fast, spurred by the angle, the tail yank, the crude filth spilling from his mouth—your cunt spasmed hard, a hot, wet rush soaking him again, your scream turning to a high, broken whine as your eyes fluttered, tears streaming, your face going slack—mouth open, tongue lolling slightly, eyes half-lidded and dazed, a wrecked, mindless mess. your body shook uncontrollably, legs kicking weakly, the sensation overwhelming—his cock filling you, stretching you, the ache in your cervix blending with the sharp, pulsing pleasure in your clit, your whole core a throbbing, soaking wreck.

“fuck, yes,” he groaned, voice rough and filthy, leaning down to lick more tears off your face, his thrusts slowing but still deep, grinding into you as you trembled. “look at you—crying and squirting, such a dirty little demon. holy knight’s breaking you good, huh?”

he didn’t stop—kept fucking you slow now, letting you feel every inch, every pulse, drawing out the aftershocks as your body twitched, your sobs turning to soft, teary whimpers, your glare completely gone, replaced by that glassy, fucked-out stare.

he shifted again, hands sliding up to grip your thighs, pushing them back further, folding you in half—knees nearly at your shoulders, ass lifted high, cunt angled straight up for him. the position was obscene—your legs spread wide, pinned, your slick dripping down your ass, pooling on the silk, his cock poised above you, massive and dripping, ready to plunge back in.

your breath hitched, a weak, “no, please—fuck—no more,” slipping out, but he just grinned, crude and sadistic, slapping his cock against your clit again—smack, smack—making you flinch, a sob tearing out as your oversensitive body jolted.

“oh, we’re not done,” he purred, voice dark and filthy, lining up again, the head nudging your entrance. “gonna breed you till you’re leaking, princess—till that demon filth’s gone and you’re mine.” he thrust in slow this time, dragging it out, letting you feel the stretch, the way your walls fluttered, still pulsing from the last orgasm, and your fifth hit almost instantly—a sharp, searing wave, your cunt clenching hard, another gush of slick soaking him as you screamed, voice breaking into a wrecked, teary mess.

your body felt like a live wire—every thrust sent jolts through you, your clit rubbing against him, your cervix aching, the sensation splitting you apart—sharp and hot, wet and messy, your tears falling faster, your face slack and wild, mouth open, eyes rolling back slightly as you shook, completely lost.

satoru kept going, relentless, fucking you through it, his groans mixing with your sobs, the wet slap of his hips against your ass a constant, filthy rhythm, your slick flooding out, soaking everything.

his hands tightened their grip on your thighs, holding you folded—knees near your shoulders, ass lifted high, cunt angled up like an offering. your voice was gone, a hoarse, “no more,” barely audible, but he just grinned, crude and dark, pulling out and slapping his dick against your clit one last time, making you flinch, a teary whimper slipping out as he lined up again, ready to finish what he started.

“gonna fill you up now,” he growled, voice rough and filthy, his hands tightening on your thighs, keeping you bent in half—your knees pressed close to your shoulders, your ass hanging off the edge of the bed, hips tilted so high your lower back arched sharp, the silk bunching beneath you.

your legs dangled, feet brushing the air, useless and trembling, your cunt spread wide, slick and pulsing from the last round, every nerve raw and screaming. he thrust in slow, dragging it out, letting you feel the stretch—his cock thick and unyielding, sliding past your walls, the head nudging your cervix with a dull, aching thud that made you sob, tears falling faster as your glare flickered, fading into a glassy, teary haze.

“fuck—yes,” he groaned, crude and dark, his hips snapping forward, burying himself deep, the pressure sharp and relentless, your cunt clenching around him instantly.

your sixth orgasm hit hard—immediate, a hot, pulsing wave, your walls fluttering tight, slick coating him as you screamed, voice breaking into a wrecked, “fuck—fuck—” your body shook, thighs trembling against his grip, the sensation splitting you apart—his cock grinding your cervix, your clit rubbing against his pelvis, a searing jolt that made your toes curl, your breath hitching in short, desperate gasps.

“that’s it,” he purred, sadistic glee dripping from every word, his hands sliding down to grip your ass, lifting you higher, keeping you folded tight as he fucked you through it, slow and brutal, letting the aftershocks ripple. “cumming again, huh? you really are such a filthy slut for a princess—can’t stop, can you?”

he didn’t let up—kept thrusting, deep and steady, the wet slap of his hips against your ass loud and obscene, your slick dripping down, soaking the silk beneath you. the position burned—your thighs pressed tight to your chest, your knees bent sharp, pinning your lungs, making every breath shallow and ragged, your spine curved so hard it ached, your ass lifted off the bed, held up by his hands like a prize.

his cock filled you completely, stretching you past your limits, the head smashing your cervix with every thrust, a deep, bruising ache that mixed with the sharp, pulsing pleasure still buzzing from your clit. your tears wouldn’t stop, streaming down your face, pooling in the hollow of your neck as you sobbed, your glare gone, replaced by a dazed, teary stare.

“look at you,” satoru grunted, crude and breathless, one hand sliding up to grab your tail, yanking it hard enough to make you whimper, tears spilling as he twisted it in his fist. “crying like a fucked-out whore—holy knight’s cleansing you good, huh? fucking that demon filth right out.”

he thrust harder, faster, the rhythm brutal, your cunt clenching again, your seventh orgasm building fast, spurred by the tail yank and the relentless pressure.

it hit like a punch—your walls spasmed tight, a hot rush of slick coating him, a messy flood that soaked his thighs, your scream turning to a high, broken whine as your eyes fluttered, tears streaming, your face going slack—mouth open, tongue lolling slightly, eyes half-lidded and wild, a wrecked, mindless mess. your body shook uncontrollably, legs kicking weakly against his grip, the sensation overwhelming—his cock spearing you, the ache in your cervix blending with the sharp, electric heat in your clit, your whole core a throbbing, dripping wreck.

“seven,” he growled, voice dark and filthy, leaning down to lick a tear off your cheek, his tongue slow and hot, groaning against your skin as he kept fucking you, drawing it out. “sobbing so pretty—gonna breed you till you realize that you’re mine, princess.”

he shifted, hands sliding under your thighs, pushing them back further, your knees brushing your ears now, your ass lifted higher, your hips tilted so steep your cunt was practically vertical, his cock plunging straight down, hitting deeper, harder, the pressure on your cervix a constant, aching pulse.

the new angle was brutal—your legs folded tight, thighs pressed to your chest, your feet dangling near your head, toes brushing your own hair, your spine curved so sharp it hurt, your ass hanging in his grip, completely exposed. every thrust drove him straight into your core, his cock grinding your cervix with a force that made your sobs louder, your tears falling in a steady stream, your breath shallow and ragged, lungs burning from the squeeze. your clit rubbed hard against him, every snap of his hips sending a jolt through it, sharp and searing, making your whole body twitch.

“holy fuck,” he groaned, crude and sadistic, his thrusts slowing but hitting harder, grinding deep as your eighth orgasm crept up, coiling tight in your gut. “look at that—crying and cumming, such a perfect little cocksleeve. gonna fill that filthy womb—make it pure.”

he yanked your tail again, sharp and punishing, and you screamed, the sound raw and broken as your eighth hit, your cunt pulsing around him, a hot, wet rush soaking him, your body shaking, your face slack and wild—mouth gaping, eyes rolling back slightly, tongue slipping out, a teary, fucked-out wreck.

he didn’t stop—shifted again, hands sliding to your hips, flipping you onto your stomach in one rough move, the silk soft under your chest as he yanked your ass up, knees sinking into the bed, your thighs spread wide, your face pressed into the damp bedding.

your arms stayed limp, too weak to move, claws digging into the silk as he thrust back in, deep and brutal, his cock slamming your cervix from behind, the angle sharper, straighter, the pressure a constant, aching thud. your ninth orgasm hit fast, spurred by the shift—your walls clenched tight, slick dripping out, not a squirt but a steady leak that soaked the bed, your scream muffled into the silk, tears pooling beneath your face as you shook, completely lost.

“nine,” he purred, voice rough and filthy, one hand gripping your hip, the other yanking your tail up, using it like a leash to pull you back onto him with every thrust. “crying into the bed—you’re so pretty and pathetic, taking my holy cock like this.”

he fucked you harder, the wet squelch of your cunt loud and obscene, your clit rubbing against the silk with every slam, sending jolts through you, sharp and hot, your tenth building fast, your mind fraying at the edges.

he shifted again, climbing over you, his chest pressing your back into the bed, his knees bracketing your thighs, pinning you flat, your ass tilted up just enough for him to keep thrusting—deep, slow, grinding now, his cock buried so far it felt like it was in your stomach, the head smashing your cervix with every roll of his hips.

your legs were trapped under him, bent slightly at the knees, feet brushing his calves, your arms pinned by your sides, claws scraping the silk as he fucked you down into the mattress, his weight heavy and unyielding, your breath shallow and desperate.

“fuck—yes,” he groaned, crude and dark, his breath hot against your neck as he licked another tear off your skin, his thrusts slowing but hitting harder, grinding deep. your tenth orgasm crashed through—a sharp, searing wave, your cunt pulsing tight, slick flooding out, soaking his cock, your scream a broken, teary whimper as your face went slack—mouth wide, tongue lolling, eyes rolling back, a wild, wrecked mess.

your body shook, pinned under him, the sensation overwhelming—his cock filling you, the ache in your cervix a constant pulse, your clit grinding into the silk, your whole core a throbbing, dripping ruin.

“ten,” he grunted, voice filthy and triumphant, his hands sliding under you, cupping your stomach as he thrust deeper, grinding into you. “gonna cum now—fill you up, princess. breed that demon filth out of you.” he didn’t rush—kept it slow, deliberate, letting you feel every pulse, every twitch, his cock throbbing inside you as he groaned, low and filthy, his breath ragged against your neck. then he came—hot, thick, spilling into you in heavy pulses, flooding your cunt, the sensation sharp and hot, your walls clenching around him as he ground it in, creaming you deep, the excess dripping out, pooling on the silk.

“fuck—take it,” he growled, crude and sadistic, shifting again—hands grabbing your thighs, flipping you back onto your back, lifting your legs high, pressing your knees to your chest, your ass off the bed, your hips tilted up in his grip, his cock still buried deep, cum leaking out around him as he thrust back in, slow and brutal, pushing his seed deeper.

your eleventh orgasm hit instantly—a hot, pulsing wave, your cunt spasming, a sharp squirt soaking his stomach, your scream a wrecked, teary mess as your face stayed slack, eyes wild and unfocused, tongue lolling, a mindless, fucked-out shell.

“good girl,” he purred, voice dark and filthy, fucking you through it, his cock grinding his cum into your womb, the position tight and brutal—your thighs pressed to your chest, knees bent sharp, feet dangling near your shoulders, your spine curved, your ass lifted, his weight pinning you as he bred you, relentless, your tears falling, your sobs soft and broken, your mind gone, shattered under the onslaught.

he stayed buried inside you, cock softening but still thick, plugging his cum deep as he caught his breath, chest heaving against yours. your thighs trembled in his grip, muscles twitching, your knees still shoved up near your ears, feet dangling uselessly, toes brushing your own hair from how tight he’d folded you.

the silk were a soaked mess beneath you—slick, cum, tears, all mixing into a damp, sticky ruin that clung to your back, your ass, your thighs, the sensation warm and gross, a constant reminder of how he’d wrecked you. your arms lay limp at your sides, claws flexing weakly, scraping the bedding, your breath shallow and ragged, lungs burning from the squeeze of his last position.

“fuck,” he muttered, crude and low, his voice rough with exertion as he pulled back slightly, his cock slipping out slow, a thick, wet squelch echoing as more cum leaked from you, dripping down your ass, pooling on the silk.

he groaned at the sight, one hand sliding under your stomach, pressing down to feel the bulge where he’d filled you, his thumb rubbing slow, possessive circles over your womb. “look at that—stuffed you good, huh? cleansed that demon filth with my holy seed.”

your eyes fluttered, tears still streaming, hot and bitter, pooling in the hollow of your neck as you lay there, wrecked and shaking, your face a slack, wild mess—mouth open, tongue lolling slightly, eyes half-lidded and dazed, unfocused, staring at the ceiling. the choker pulsed faint, a dull glow that matched your slowing heartbeat, your cunt throbbing, oversensitive, every nerve fried from the marathon.

your tail twitched, brushing his knee, a weak, involuntary flick, and he grabbed it fast, yanking it just enough to make you whimper, a soft, teary sound that made him grin, crude and dark.

“so pretty like this,” he purred, sadistic glee dripping from every word, leaning down to lick a tear off your cheek, his tongue hot and slow, tracing the salty streak up to your eye. “all fucked out, crying, full of me—lovely wife, huh?”

his hand slid up, cupping your face, thumb brushing your trembling lips, smearing spit and tears as he tilted your head, forcing you to meet his gaze. those blue eyes gleamed, perverse and triumphant, drinking in your wreckage like it was a fucking masterpiece.

you couldn’t speak—voice gone, throat raw from screaming, sobbing, begging through the hours he’d ruined you. your chest heaved, breaths short and shaky, your body too heavy to move, every muscle spent, your cunt aching, stuffed full of his cum, a dull, pulsing heat that made you twitch.

“mine,” he murmured, crude and low, licking another tear off your skin, his breath hot against your neck as he nipped the bruise he’d left earlier, making you flinch, a soft, broken whimper slipping out. “mine. mine.” his fingers dug into your hips, possessive, his cock brushing your thigh, half-hard again, smearing cum and slick as he pressed it against you, teasing, not thrusting in yet, just letting you feel it. “gonna keep you like this—bred, broken, all mine.”

he leaned back, kneeling there, his chest heaving, sweat slicking his scarred skin, his white hair damp and messy, sticking to his forehead as he watched you—watched the cum leak from your cunt, watched your tears glisten in the candlelight, watched your body tremble under his hands.

“holy fuck,” he muttered, crude and reverent, his voice rough with lust and exhaustion. “look at you—wrecked, dripping, crying like a little bitch. my pretty filthy bride, huh?”

he shifted, sliding down beside you, one arm draping over your stomach, pulling you against his chest, his cock pressing against your ass, still half-hard, smearing more mess as he settled in. your legs stayed splayed, thighs quaking, your breath hitching as he nuzzled your neck, licking the sweat and tears off your skin, his hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb brushing your nipple, making you twitch, a soft, teary sob slipping out.

“so good,” he murmured, voice softening but still crude, his breath hot against your ear. “took it all—every drop, every thrust, every fucking tear. you’ll love me. they all do. eventually,”

his hand stroked your stomach, pressing down where he’d filled you, like he was claiming it all over again. your eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion pulling you under, your body too wrecked to move, too broken to fight, the tears slowing, your breath evening out as you drifted, teetering on the edge of oblivion.

but then—fuck—it sparked. not life. not hope. just pride. that brittle, burning ember he hadn’t managed to fuck out of you. not yet. not ever.

your eyes cracked open, glassy and bruised, but gleaming with that same imperious spite, the same loathing that had never once faltered—not through the screams, the begging, the breaking. your voice was a rasp, torn from somewhere buried deep, meant not to fight him off but to wound him where it mattered.

“as if i’d ever love a holy mutt who only fucks like he’s trying to prove something.” your lip curled, defiant even as your voice trembled. “must be hard, knowing the only crown you’ll ever have is between my legs.”

the words clawed out, weak but venomous, your tail twitching against his grip, smacking his thigh with what little strength you had left, a final, defiant snap.

he froze—breath catching, his hand stalling on your stomach, his cock twitching hard against your thigh—and for a heartbeat, the room went dead, the candles flickering low, wax dripping silent onto the stone. then his face split into a grin—wide, cruel, unhinged, his eyes flashing with sadistic, perverted delight, his love twisting into something vicious as he moved—fast, brutal, flipping you onto your stomach, yanking your hips up so hard your knees sank deep into the silk, your ass lifted high, your face shoved into the soaked bedding, his seed and slick smearing your cheek, the scent choking you.

“oh, my filthy bride,” he snarled, voice sharp and scolding, dripping with cruel glee as he fisted your hair, pulling until your scalp burned, his other hand grabbing your tail, twisting it so viciously you screamed, tears spilling fresh, your body jerking under his grip.

“thought you’d learned your place, huh? mouthing off like a brainless brat—guess my cock didn’t fuck enough sense into you.” he scolded you like a child caught stealing, his cock—hard again, massive—slapping against your cunt, smack, smack, smack, each hit wet and stinging, making you flinch, your oversensitive clit throbbing, your sobs raw and loud.

“you don’t get it, do you?” he growled, leaning over you, his chest pinning your back, his breath hot and heavy against your ear as he scolded, voice cruel and cutting. “you’re mine. my wife, my trophy, my fucking prize. you insult me? you spit that venom? i’ll carve it out of you, brat—fuck you till you’re choking on your own screams, till you’re begging me to keep you.”

he yanked your tail harder, twisting it like a rope, his hand cracking down on your ass—slap, slap, slap—each hit sharp and brutal, leaving welts, your body jolting, your tears soaking the silk, your glare flickering back, weak but defiant, burning through the haze.

“pathetic,” he sneered, crude and sadistic, his cock nudging your entrance, teasing, the head slipping in just enough to stretch you, then pulling out, leaving you empty, shaking, sobbing. “look at you—crying, leaking, talking big like you’re not supposed to be my breeding bitch. you think you’re tough, huh? i’ll fuck that attitude till you’re nothing but a whimpering mess, till you’re crawling for my mercy.”

he slapped his cock against your clit again—smack, smack—harder, the wet sound obscene, your body bucking, your screams muffled, your tears endless, the choker flaring bright as he leaned in, licking your cheek, groaning at the taste.

“i hate you,” you rasped again, weaker but sharper, venom dripping, your tail snapping against his grip, a frail but furious smack to his wrist, your claws tearing deeper into the silk, shredding the silk, defiance blazing through the tears, the pain, the wreckage. his laugh was cold, cruel, slicing the air as he shoved your face harder into the bedding, muffling your sobs, his hand cracking down on your ass again—slap, slap—welts blooming, your body trembling, his cock poised to ruin you again.

“go on, keep cursing me like that,” he growled, voice dark and filthy, scolding you like a king to a rebel, his sadistic glee a living thing as he lined up, the head nudging your cunt, teasing, promising pain. “i’ll make you pray to me by the time i’m done.”

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meenaxskz · 3 months ago

Text

when the bed gave up on life (maknae line)

ot8 reactions | bf!skz x reader au genre: crack | light smut warnings: language | suggestive content hyung line | ✧ maknae line

han

He had you face down, ass up, back arched perfectly. You’re screaming. He’s moaning. The mattress is fighting for its life. “Fuckfuck-you’re so good,” he gasps, hair sticking to his forehead. He grabs your hips and snaps his hips forward. “You feel like-like-ugh, fuck, baby-” CREAACKK. SNAP. THUD. The entire bottom half of the bed collapses. Your stomach hits the mattress, knees slide off the edge, and Jisung goes down dramatically. Silence. Then: “…BABE?!” You gasp “DID WE JUST-” He flails from behind you. “OH MY GOD I THINK WE BROKE THE FUCKING BED!" "YOU THINK ?!" He scrambles off you, tripping over a pillow "are you okay?! Did I kill your knee?! Did I paralyze you?!" You rub your bruised hip but also you’re laughing so hard you can’t breathe. “I think my spine just spoke Latin.” He sighs and sits up dramatically, sheets tangled around his waist. “THIS BED HAS JEALOUSY ENERGY. SHE COULDN’T HANDLE OUR LOVE.” “...I can’t believe we just broke a bed mid sex.” “I can. We were too powerful. It was me. I did that. With dick.” "Please shut up forever" --- You crawl off the wreckage. He flops back down. “You good?” you ask “I just need to lie here. Think about what I had. What I lost. What I could’ve finished.” “Babe. We’re naked on a diagonal mattress.” “I’M A CASUALTY OF PASSION”

felix

You’re on top, hips rolling slow, breath warm against his neck. Felix is gripping your waist, voice already wrecked. “Just like that, angel... fuck, you feel so good,” he breathes, lips brushing your collarbone. You moan softly, head spinning, thighs starting to shake. He pants, “You’re making me crazy... keep going, don’t stop-” CREEEAAKK. CRACK. SNAP. The mattress tilts. You both slide still fully connected into the corner of the bed frame. Felix lets out the most Australian panic gasp of his life “OH-OH MY GOD” “WHAT JUST-” The bed’s gone. It’s gone. The leg’s bent inward. A screw rolls past your hand rudely. Felix blinks up at you, still pinned underneath. Wide eyed. Dazed. “…Did we just... break the bed?” You nod slowly, dazed. “Yeah. Yeah we did.” He covers his face with both hands. “I WAS JUST TRYING TO BE ROMANTIC.” You laugh. “We were LITERALLY just grinding. How did we collapse it?!” “I DON’T KNOW BABY, I’M SMALL. I DIDN’T THINK I HAD THAT IN ME.” He sits up carefully, looking around at the wreckage.. Then he immediately cups your face. “Are you okay?? Did I squish you?? Do you need ice?? Or a hug?? Or like… a new mattress??” You’re cry laughing. “Felix your face-” “I THOUGHT I WAS BEING SOFT.” “You were being something.” He buries his face in your chest. “I’m going to cry.” --- Later, you’re lying on the now floor mattress, still tangled. He looks at you, blushing “Do we… tell the others?” “No. We lie.” Felix sighs. “Okay. But if they find screws, I’m blaming your thighs.” You raise a brow. “My thighs?!” “YES. You were squeezing. You were strong. I was just an innocent man in love.”

seungmin

“You’re moving too much.” “I’m literally on top of you.” “I know. You’re riding me like I owe you rent and this bed was made in 2018.” You roll your eyes and grind harder. Seungmin groans, arms behind his head, jaw clenched. “Shit- okay fine -do what you want. just don’t blame me when we die.” The mattress creaks. Wobbles. You’re bouncing now, thighs burning, hair clinging to your forehead. Seungmin’s watching you with that look... half lidded, breathless, deeply unimpressed by how much he's enjoying this. “God you’re insane” he mutters. “You’re gonna send me to church.” “Shut up and tak—” CREEAAKK SNAP. FULL. BED. COLLAPSE. The right side caves in like karma. The mattress slants violently. You fall forward. He slides sideways. He grunts. You shriek. THUD. Silence. Then Seungmin blinks up at the ceiling, deadpan “…Did we just break the bed?” You groan into his chest. “Technically, the bed broke itself...” “Oh my god. Oh my god. I told you!” You roll off of him, breathless and “You’re fine.” “I told you it was weak.” “You were also moaning like I reinvented sex” He points at you, still half-buried in the sheets. “I can multitask.” Later, you’re both lying on the sideways mattress . Seungmin sips water, glaring at the broken frame. “This is why we can’t have nice things.” You grin. “You mean why you can’t handle this ass.” He snorts. “This ass took us to home depot levels of damage.”

I.N

He’s beneath you, cheeks flushed, biting his lip as he moans under his breath. “Shit you’re gonna make me black out” You’re riding him like it’s your life’s goal. Hands on his chest, pace unforgiving. “Don’t be dramatic” you pant. “I’m seeing the edge of the universe. That’s not dramatic. That’s spiritual!” You lean back, bouncing harder. He whimpers. “Okay-okay-you’re doing too much-!” “You like it.” “I like living, too.” CREAK. SNAP. CRASH. You drop like a ragdoll. He slides down with you, legs flailing, head smacking the headboard lightly as the bed frame gives the fuck up. You land on top of him in a pile of limbs and sin. He gasps, completely stunned. “…Did you just break the bed?” You blink. “ME?! I was literally doing what you begged for.” “I said slower. Like three times. You were riding like we had a time limit!” You sit up, scandalized. “You were moaning!” “Because I was terrified. You were ruthless. I thought I was being punished!” You shove his shoulder. “You were gripping my hips like handlebars!” He covers his chest dramatically. “I was hanging on for dear life! You were galloping!” --- Ten minutes later, you glance at the crooked frame. “The bed’s dead.” He sighs, stroking your thigh he’s comforting you through your mess. “I mean… it had a good life. But yeah. You finished it off.” “Stop gaslighting me!” He smirks. “I’m just a poor innocent boy. You, on the other hand... thighs of destruction.”

⤷ main m.list ❟

DISCLAIMER : This blog and all related content (fics, fake texts, headcanons, imagines, etc.) are entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes only. I do not know Stray Kids personally, nor do I claim any of this reflects their real personalities, actions, or relationships. All characters and their personalities—including Meena King—are original creations.Please enjoy responsibly and remember : real people = real boundaries.

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gojosconsort · 4 months ago

Note

You're so good at the older bf! headcanons... how bout Mr. Should Kong? Much love x

OLDER BF!SHIU ♡ // HEADCANONS

⁀➷ CONTENT. you're shiu’s controversial younger girlfriend.

♡ PAIRING. afab!reader x older bf!shiu

♡ WARNINGS. mdni. added some x links. age gap, size difference, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), hair-pulling, spanking, public/semi-public sex, choking (with tie), degradation, praise kink, office sex, tummy bulge

♡ AUTHOR’S NOTE. AHHHHHH i love older men

OLDER BF!SHIU who first met you when you were some witness in a case he was stuck handling. he drove you home after, saying, “you’re safe now, dove, don’t sweat it.” slipped his card into your hand with a lazy, “call if you need me,” and peeled off—didn’t think much of it ‘til you called a week later.

OLDER BF!SHIU who showed up immediately when you called because he found you interesting (and pretty). then talking turned into kissing and next thing you know, he’s got you pinned on your couch, fucking you so deep your legs are jelly. left you sprawled out, panting, dripping with his cum while he lit a smoke.

OLDER BF!SHIU who loves eating you out very sloppy, sprawled on the bed, cig still smoldering in the ashtray, your thighs slung over his shoulders. he’s slurping you up, tongue digging in sloppy and wet, growling, “fuckin’ soak my face, princess,” ‘til you’re yanking his hair and dripping all over his chin.

OLDER BF!SHIU who won’t stop after you cum once. keeps his mouth or fingers on you, muttering, “one more, dove, i know your slutty little cunt’s got it,” ‘til you’re shaking and sobbing and he smirks, “there’s my fuckin’ girl,” loving how fucked-up you look.

OLDER BF!SHIU who towers over you with his broad shoulders, thick arms, and a cock so big it’s a struggle every time. loves pinning you down just to feel how tiny you are under him, smirking, “look at you—barely fit me in that little cunt.”

OLDER BF!SHIU who’s obsessed with the tummy bulge—every time he fucks you deep, he presses his hand right there, feeling himself move inside you. “fuck, look at that—my dick’s stretching you out,” he grunts, pounding harder just to see it push up, loving how you whimper about it being too much.

OLDER BF!SHIU who doesn’t give a shit what anyone thinks about the age gap. he just smiles at nosy comments and slings an arm around you, “jealous i got her and you don’t?” later, he’s got you slammed against the wall, pounding you ‘til you’re screaming loud enough the whole damn block knows why you’re with him.

OLDER BF!SHIU who’s always got a cig hanging from his lips, catching you staring and smirking, “want a hit, huh?” grabs your chin, blows smoke into your mouth, then crashes his lips into yours, tongue shoving in hard, “you’re too fuckin’ young for this shit.”

OLDER BF!SHIU who loves showing you off, you in some skimpy little skirt, him in his suit. pulls you onto his lap at a dive bar, hand creeping up your thigh, muttering, “let ‘em stare, princess—they’re just mad they ain’t fuckin’ you.”

OLDER BF!SHIU who doesn’t care about kids but fuckin’ loves pumping you full. pins you down, growling, “gonna stuff you full, dove,” and unloads deep, and gets off on watching it spill out slow, “look at that—fuckin’ perfect, dripping with me.”

OLDER BF!SHIU who’s working late at the office when you get too loud—moaning like a slut while he’s got you bent over his desk. he rips his tie off, stuffs it in your mouth, and mutters, “shut the fuck up, dove—gonna get us caught,” then keeps fucking you raw, the muffled screams making him harder.

OLDER BF!SHIU who’s a lazy fuck but loves watching you work—lounges back on the couch or bed, cig between his lips, hands behind his head, “c’mon, dove, bounce on this dick.” loves how your tits jiggle while you ride him, smirking, “fuckin’ tire yourself out—i’m just here for the view.”

OLDER BF!SHIU who doesn’t bother with condoms half the time—slides in raw and rough, smirking, “shit feels better like this, yeah?” loves dumping his load deep, holding you still while he fills you, “gonna be leaking me all day, huh? nasty little thing.”

OLDER BF!SHIU who’s got that old-man stamina—fucks you hard and fast, flips you over, and keeps drilling ‘til you’re whining, “too much, shiu—fuck!” he just laughs, “tough shit, dove—you can handle it,” and pumps you full again, grinning as you collapse under him, a sweaty, cum-stuffed wreck.

OLDER BF!SHIU who grabs a fistful of your hair when he’s giving you backshots—yanks your head back while he’s slamming into you from behind, his other hand smacking your ass red. “take it, princess—fuckin’ love this tight little hole,” he growls, railing you ‘til the bed groans and your knees give out.

OLDER BF!SHIU who’s hunched over his desk, scribbling notes for his work, when you straddle his thigh, needy and whining. doesn’t even glance up, just smirks, “go on, dove, rub that needy pussy on me—i’m busy.” lets you soak his slacks ‘til he’s done, then grabs your hips, bends you over the desk, and yanks your panties down, “couldn’t wait, huh? needy little thing.”

————— ୨୧ —————

⁀➷ masterlist

#—amy writes : shiu kong ★#shiu kong smut #shiu smut #shiu kong x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #shiu kong x reader #shiu x reader #shiu kong x you #jjk x reader #divider by cafekitsune

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allthatjazz416 · 1 month ago

Text

Osamu NSFW 🌹

"Kiss the cook" A Miya Osamu TIMESKIP fic Tags: Fem!Reader! Creampie! Squirting! Spanking! A lil nipple play! Manhandling! Brief!Cockwarming! Implied!Breedingkink! Praisekink! Dom!Osamu! Sub!Reader! Established RS! Cockdrunk! Cunnulingus! MarriedCouple! LovingDominance! Word Count: 2.9k Note: MDNI! Porn with like a lil plot. Inspired by this header lol which divider crdts: @/cursed-carmine

The smell hits you first.

Garlic. Onion. A little soy sauce. It hits like a warm hug the second you step through the door, bags in hand and shoes half-off. You sigh, stretching your arms over your head, sore from work but already relaxing because he’s home. And he’s cooking.

You round the corner and find him there—in a loose gray shirt, apron tied around his hips, sleeves rolled up, stirring something in a skillet.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says without turning around, voice casual, warm. “You’re home early.”

“I missed you,” you hum.

He laughs softly under his breath. “Didn’t even text me.”

You walk up behind him and snake your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek between his shoulder blades. He’s warm. Solid. Smelling like salt and dinner and Osamu.

“Wanted to surprise you,” you murmur, nosing at the back of his neck. “Smells amazing.”

“Y’better be talkin’ about the food,” he teases.

You smile. “You know I’m not.”

He goes still when you kiss just below his ear, and stay there. His knuckles tighten on the spoon. You know that look—that tiny shift in his stance. He’s trying not to react. So you push it.

Your fingers dip under the hem of his apron. His cock’s not hard yet, but he shifts when you press your palm over his waistband, groaning low in his chest.

“…Now, sweetheart,” he warns, gently, “you start that and I’ll burn the whole damn thing.”

“Then maybe you should turn the stove off.”

He snorts, but it’s breathless. He does turn it off. And the second he sets the spoon down, you spin him around, eyes already on his mouth.

Osamu tastes like soy and garlic and the tiniest hint of sake when you kiss him. He kisses like he cooks—slow and sure, knowing exactly what he’s doing. His hands find your waist. Then your hips. Then your ass.

“Been wantin’ you all day,” he mutters against your lips. “Got this picture in my head of you bent over the kitchen counter in nothin’ but a smile—”

“That so?” you whisper, tongue flicking the corner of his mouth. “Think you can make it happen?”

He doesn’t answer.

He grabs your thighs, lifts you like you weigh nothing, and sets you on the counter in one smooth motion. You blink—pulse quickening—not expecting him to actually drop to his knees. He never does this without teasing first. Without dragging it out. But this time—

He kneels. Right there on the kitchen floor.

“Samu—!” your hands reach for the edge of the counter, breath catching. “I’ve been out all day, I’m probably all sweaty down there—”

“Good,” he growls, spreading your thighs. “I wanna taste all of it.” eyes locked on your soaked cunt. “Fuck, look at you.”

You freeze, pulse hammering in your throat. Heat crawls up your chest. You weren’t expecting this—weren’t expecting him to want you like this, right now, raw and unfiltered. Part of you hesitates, skin flushed and prickling with the awareness of the day still clinging to you.

But the way he looks at you—hungry, reverent, fucking possessed—melts every ounce of self-consciousness. He wants you. Just like this.

Your breath catches again, this time for a different reason. You relax back into your elbows, thighs falling open.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “Okay…”

He spreads your thighs, hooks them over his shoulders, and drags his tongue through your slit like he’s starving.

And god—he doesn’t stop.

Osamu eats pussy like it’s his job. Like you’re his last meal. He licks up your folds, slow and wet and filthy, then swirls his tongue around your clit until your thighs twitch. His hands keep you open, thumbs pressing into your hips just enough to bruise. You pant, moan, try to grind down—but he pins you there.

“Stay still,” he growls, voice low against your core. “Lemme take my time.”

His mouth seals around your clit and sucks. You yelp, clapping a hand over your mouth. He hums into you, sending vibrations straight through your cunt.

“Osamu—fuck, that—ah—”

“You’re already drippin’, sweetheart,” he groans. “This little pussy missed me?”

You nod helplessly, hips twitching. “Y-yeah… I missed your mouth…”

He groans into your cunt, like that does something to him. And then he gets meaner. Hungrier. His fingers come next—one thick finger pushing inside while his tongue works circles around your clit. Then another. Curling just right.

You feel it building—hot and tight in your belly, your thighs clenching, every muscle on edge. But just when you’re about to tip over—

He stops.

You whine, loudly. “Samu!”

He smirks up at you, fingers still buried deep, glistening mouth pressed to your thigh.

“You were close, huh?” he teases, curling his fingers just enough to make your body jump. “You gonna cum all over the counter for me?”

“Please,” you whimper. “Please don’t tease me—need it so bad—”

He grins, slow and filthy.

“Say it again.”

“Need your mouth,” you gasp, hands fisting in his hair. “Need to cum for you, Osamu—fuck, please—”

He goes in.

Tongue on your clit, fingers curling hard and fast—right there, over and over—and the pressure snaps.

Your back arches. You scream, thighs clamping around his head as you squirt hard, soaking his mouth, his chin, the front of his apron.

You’re gasping, shaking, crying out—helpless against the wave of overstimulation.

Osamu groans like it’s the hottest thing he’s ever felt, grinding his face into you like he wants more.

“Fuckin’ love makin’ you squirt,” he pants. “You always make a mess for me, don’t you?”

You’re still shaking when he stands—licking his fingers like he’s tasting your orgasm, his cock hard as granite behind his sweats. His mouth and chin are slick—glistening with you.

Then he grabs your face.

Big, calloused fingers wrap under your jaw, thumb pressing just under your lips as he tilts your face up to his. His eyes are dark. Hungry.

“Open.”

You do.

He kisses you—filthy. Deep and slow, no warning. His tongue pushes past your lips and you taste yourself, still dripping from his mouth. He groans into the kiss, hand gripping your chin like he owns you.

“That's you,” he growls, pulling back just enough to pant against your mouth. “So fuckin’ sweet. I could live off this cunt.”

You whimper, clenching around nothing. He must feel the heat radiating off you because he grins, smug and slow and dangerous.

Then his hand slides down. Between your legs. He cups your pussy—still wet, still messy—and moans into your cheek.

“Still so fuckin’ wet,” he mutters, grinding his palm against your clit. “Y’gonna let me fuck you now, sweetheart? Let me fill you up?”

You nod. Fast. Breathless. “Yes. Please.”

“Not beggin’ pretty enough,” he growls, licking into your neck, one hand gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. “Want you to ask me. Like a good girl.”

You whimper, arching your back, rubbing against him. “Please fuck me, Samu. Wanna feel your cock. Wanna feel you inside.”

“Where, sweetheart?” he presses, cock hard against your thigh now, rubbing through the front of his sweats. “Tell me where you want it.”

“Inside,” you pant, eyes fluttering. “Need you to finish inside me.”

He lets out a sound—deep, dark, filthy. Then he hooks one arm around your waist and lifts you, making you yelp. Not rushed, not rough—just strong, decisive, possessive.

“Counter’s too small,” he mutters against your neck. “Need more room to fuck you proper.”

He carries you across the kitchen and lays you back on the table like you’re made of something precious and his. The wood is cool against your back, a sharp contrast to the heat of his body as he looms over you, staring down at you like you’re his next course.

His eyes drop to your chest, still hidden under your shirt, and he growls low—like he’s just remembered what else he’s starving for.

“Lift your arms, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tugging your shirt up and off. “Wanna see all of you.”

He palms your breasts with both hands, rough but reverent, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they harden under his touch. You arch up with a soft gasp, and he groans—low and filthy, cock twitching against your thigh.

“Fuck, these tits,” he mutters, bending to mouth at one nipple, sucking slow and deep until it makes your toes curl. “I missed these, too. God, you make me crazy.”

He bites—just enough to make you yelp—then soothes it with a slow lick. His hands never leave your body, one still cupping your breast while the other slides down, trailing heat along your side.

“Keep lookin’ at me like that,” he mutters, tugging his sweats down just enough for his cock to spring free—thick and flushed and already leaking, “and I’m not gonna be able to take my time.”

“Then don’t,” you whisper, hips lifting, legs parting. “Samu, I need it.”

He groans, low and hungry, and steps in closer—running his cock through your folds, dragging it over your clit, tapping it against your soaked entrance just to hear the obscene slick of your arousal.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re drippin’—you this messy just from gettin’ eaten out?”

You whine, squirming. “M’still sensitive—”

“I know.” His smirk is slow. Dangerous. “That’s why I’m gonna make it worse.”

He strokes his cock once—twice—then presses the blunt head to your entrance.

But he doesn’t push in.

Not yet.

His hand slides up your chest, under your shirt, up your neck. Grips your chin.

“Kiss me.”

You do, panting into his mouth as he leans over you—his tongue slow, dragging, dirty. He kisses you like he owns every part of you.. Like you belong to him.

Then—only then—he starts to push in.

“Just a little,” he murmurs against your lips. “Let me feel that squeeze…”

You moan, loud and helpless, as he sinks in—slow, steady, inch by inch.

“Big,” you gasp. “You’re so—fuck—you’re so big…”

“That’s right,” he growls. “Wanna feel me stretch you out. Wanna ruin this pussy nice and slow.”

He stops halfway in. Just stops—and starts grinding.

Not thrusting. Just deep, tight circles of his hips, the thick weight of his cock rubbing right against the spot that makes your toes curl. Your hands fly up, clinging to his shoulders, his apron still bunched around his waist.

You whimper. “Samu—need all of you—please—”

“I know, baby,” he mutters, cock twitching inside you. “You’re takin’ me so well. Almost there…”

Another inch. Another grind. He watches your face—eats every gasp, every twitch of your lips, like he’s feasting on your need.

And then he bottoms out.

All of him. Buried to the hilt.

You both moan.

You swear you see stars for a second.

“God, I feel so full—”

“That’s ‘cause you are, baby,” he pants, forehead pressed to yours. “Look at me. Let me see your face when I fuck you.”

He pulls out just a little—then thrusts back in.

Deep.

Slow.

Like he wants to mold your insides to his shape.

He does it again. And again. Each thrust deeper than the last, each one building that low, aching heat between your legs. You wrap your arms around him, thighs trembling, biting back moans that only make him grin.

“You love this,” he growls. “Love bein’ fucked like this, huh?”

“Yes,” you whimper, tears pricking your eyes. “Love your cock—fuck—don’t stop—”

He doesn’t.

His thrusts stay deep, slow, and dirty. Every inch of him feels like it’s made to ruin you—hot and thick, dragging against your sweet spot with a precision that makes you clench down and moan his name like it’s the only word you remember.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, leaning over you, his chest pressed to your back. “You hear that? That’s your pussy talkin’ to me.”

He’s right.

It’s wet—obscene. Every thrust sounds like filth, slick and messy, your cunt fluttering greedily around him. You gasp as his hips press flush to your ass, his cock buried to the hilt, and he stays there—grinding. Deep and slow. Like he’s savoring how tight you are around him.

“God, I can’t get deep enough like this,” he growls, pulling out slow. “Turn over for me, baby—lemme see that ass.”

You moan, dizzy with need, and roll over—cheek pressed to the table, arms braced, legs trembling as he slips back in.

Then—

Smack.

You yelp, jumping slightly as his hand lands hard on your ass. The sound echoes through the kitchen. Your cunt clenches around him.

“There she is,” he growls, rubbing the sting in with a big, warm hand. “Always gets tighter when I spank you.”

“Samu,” you moan, shivering. “Again—”

Another smack.

You whimper, arching your back, presenting for him like a good girl.

“You’re filthy,” he pants, fucking into you again—slow and thick. “Come home from work all sweet and polite, then turn into a cockdrunk mess the second I get you on the table.”

“I missed you,” you breathe, voice trembling. “Missed your cock. Missed this.”

“Yeah?” His hand slides up your spine, fingers winding into your hair to gently tug your head back so he can kiss the side of your face. “This pussy miss me, baby?”

You whine—high, needy—grinding back into him. “So much.”

He groans into your skin, then pulls out slow—just the tip inside—and slams back in, hard enough to make the table creak beneath you.

You cry out, nearly folding over the wood, but he catches your hips.

“That’s it,” he grits, rutting into you again, hips smacking loud and sharp. “Let me fuck it better.”

His thrusts pick up, sloppy now—wet and deep, the sound of skin on skin echoing in your little kitchen, obscene and delicious. He’s panting into your neck, hands bruising on your hips, buried so deep inside you it feels like he’s touching your fucking soul.

“You love this, huh?” he growls. “Love comin’ home and gettin’ fucked dumb like this?”

“Yes—yes, baby, I love it—”

“You were so fuckin’ sweet walkin’ out the door this morning, actin’ all innocent in that cute little work outfit,” he pants, one hand coming down again—smack—harder this time, making you jerk forward with a cry. “Bet you were thinkin’ about my cock the whole damn day.”

You nod frantically, gasping. “Wanted your cock all day—”

“Should’ve told me,” he growls, grinding deep. “I’d’ve bent you over this table before you even get your keys.”

You moan, loud and unfiltered, your thighs shaking again.

His pace doesn’t let up. He keeps fucking into you like he owns it—your body, your cunt, your sounds. His cock drives in deep, again and again, that perfect spot hit over and over until your vision starts to blur.

You’re soaked. Gushing around him. So wet it’s dripping off your thighs onto the floor, messy and hot and loud. You feel another orgasm building fast—sharper this time, tighter, like a spring wound to the breaking point.

“Fuck—Samu—I’m gonna—”

“You gonna squirt again for me, baby?” he groans, thrusting harder. “So fuckin’ greedy tonight—”

He slips a hand between your legs, thumb rubbing your clit in tight circles, fucking you through it—hard and fast, like he wants to feel you fall apart again.

And you do.

You break with a scream—back arching, mouth open, body going rigid before you gush, helpless and messy, your juices spilling around him in hot waves. You feel it spray out, feel the slap of it against his thighs, the flood between your legs soaking the front of the counter.

Osamu groans like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Look at you,” he pants, never stopping. “So fuckin’ wet, baby—fuck—feel that? You’re milkin’ my cock—fuckin’ made for it—”

You’re limp. Wrecked. But he’s still going.

You moan, weakly now, every thrust sending aftershocks through your nerves. And you feel him twitch inside you, cock hard and pulsing, hips starting to stutter.

“Tell me where you want it,” he grits, hand clutching your waist. “Tell me where to finish.”

“In me,” you whimper, “Osamu—inside—wanna feel it. Wanna keep it in—”

“Fuck—fuck—” he grits out, voice cracking.

He slams in deep and stays, hips locking against yours as he cums with a growl—low and broken and possessive. You feel it fill you, thick and hot, pumping inside until it leaks around his cock and drips down your thighs, mixing with everything else you’ve spilled.

And still, he doesn’t pull out.

He bends over you, chest to your back, both of you trembling. He kisses your shoulder. Your cheek. Your neck.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he murmurs, voice soft now, tender against your ear.

You nod, still panting. “I’m so full…”

He grins, slow and wicked, cupping your mound with one big hand, with his cock plunged in to keep it all in. “Damn right you are.”

And then he laughs—soft and low, one hand sliding up your spine to stroke your hair.

“I ever tell you how much I love it when my wife comes home to me?”

You laugh, exhausted. Wrecked. Soaked in love and slick and everything that’s his.

“Only every time you fuck me like this.”

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zoro-sremedy · 2 months ago

Text

I NEED A HERO!

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast And he's gotta be fresh from the fight!

Synopsis. Your vibrator died and are in dear need of a rescue.

Including. Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna, Megumi, Yuji.

Risk assessment 18+ mdni, smut and crack, stablished relationship, reader is unprotected, spanking, backshots, missionary, prone bone, mating press, soft dom/dom vibes.

HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO 'TIL THE END OF THE NIGHT! SMAU that started this drabble if you wanna read it.

GETO SUGURU—"YOU DON'T NEED ANYTHING ELSE"

It started with a joke. The amused little smirk he gave you.

Then came the silence—that heavy kind, thick and knowing.

And now?

You're beneath him. Completely. Bent in half, legs folded up towards your chest, arms pinned gently above your head by his hand as he sinks into you for what has to be the hundredth time tonight.

"You poor thing," Geto murmurs, voice warm but sharp at the edge, like silk over steel. "You thought a toy could give you this?"

You try to answer, but you're already moaning—body melting under him, trembling from how deep he reaches. His strokes are slow, controlled, focused—designed to unravel you piece by piece.

"That little thing just buzzed at your clit, didn't it?" he goes on, kissing your jaw, your neck, your clavicle with unbearable patience. "Didn't touch your cervix. Didn't make you cry. Didn't tell you how beautiful you are like this?"

He thrusts deeper—you feel it, that weight pressing down where it aches, where you're soft and needy and desperate for him.

Your hands clench. He tightens his grip on your wrists.

"No, angel. Look at me."

You do.

His purple eyes lock on yours—glowing a little, even in the low light, like they're drinking you in.

"That toy doesn't know how to kiss you while you fall apart," he says, voice velvet-soft. "Doesn't know how you look when you're about to come. Doesn't know what your body begs for."

You gasp, head tilting back as he angles his hips just right—finding that devastating rhythm, again and again. You feel yourself spiraling.

And Geto leans down, forehead against yours, voice just above a whisper:

"I know."

You come. Hard. With a broken cry, tears at the corners of your eyes, chest heaving beneath him. And still—he doesn't stop.

His thrusts grow tighter, rougher, more desperate. You feel the warmth of his breath on your cheek as he groans, "That's it, just like that. Take it, love. Take everything."

When he comes, it's with a soft moan against your lips and a deep grind into your hips, holding you there, filling you to the brim.

He doesn't pull out.

Instead, he shifts, kisses your collarbone, and murmurs:

"Now stay. Let it sink in."

You're breathless. Blinking.

He chuckles softly and presses his palm on your lower belly.

"I want you to feel me for hours. I want you to leak me tomorrow. Let everyone wonder why you're walking so slow."

You whimper, and he kisses your temple sweetly, like didn't just rearrange your soul.

"I'll burn that vibrator later," he adds, smirking into your skin. "For your own good."

GOJO SATORU—"YOU THOUGHT THAT COULD REPLACE ME"

At the end, the filthy little thing abandoned you! How dare it! And after Satoru's threat, you didn't want to risk being edged to madness. So, you actually decided to have a cold shower instead.

You're getting some water when the door slams open.

"Satoru—?!"

"Don't you Satoru me," he growls, strides hitting up the hallway. "You really sent that text and thought I'd stay home?"

He's in front of you before you can blink—shirt half-tucked, pupils blown wide, lips twisted into something between a smirk and a warning.

"I was joking," you whisper, already breathless as he cages you in against the kitchen counter. "I didn't think—"

"Didn't think?" he repeats, jaw ticking. "Didn't think before announcing you were out here mourning a fucking vibrator like your pussy doesn't belong to me?

You whimper.

His hand slides down, fast and firm, slipping beneath your shorts. He finds you embarrassingly wet and groans low, head dropping to your neck.

"God, you are sorry, aren't you?" he murmurs against your throat. "Dripping like this. Practically begging to be punished?"

You nod. "I didn't mean it—please, I'm sorry. I should've waited for you. I need you."

"Oh, baby," he hums, dragging your soaked panties down with one hand while the other lifts you onto the counter. "You do need me. You just forgot what it's like to be ruined."

He doesn't bother undressing fully—just yanks himself out, strokes one, twice and then he's there, thick and hot into you like he owns the space between your legs.

(He does.)

When he thrusts in, you sob.

"Yeah?" he moans. "That feel like something your silly little toy could do? Can it make you back your arch like that? Can it grab your thighs like this while you cream all over it?

Your nails dig into his shoulder as he fucks you deep, relentless. One hand finds your throat—no choke, just holding—and he leans close, breathless against your lips.

"Say it."

You blink up at him, dizzy. "Say… what?"

"That you're mine," he pants. "That no battery-operated piece of plastic could ever make you feel this way."

"I'm yours," you gasp." Only yours—fuck, Satoru—please, don't stop, I'm—"

You melt around him, trembling and slick, and he groans loud as he spills into you, hips jerking, forehead pressed to yours.

When it's over, he doesn't pull away. Just holds you there, still full of him, smirking like the bastard he is.

"Good girl," he murmurs. "Now… next time you even joke about needing a replacement—just remember who shows up ready to break the bed.

You nod, limp and blissed-out. And he—grinning like the madman he is—adds:

"I'm still bringing back up. Just in case. Y'know. Double homicide."

NANAMI KENTO—"YOU SHOULD'VE WAITED FOR ME"

You should've known better than to text him that.

The moment Nanami steps through the door—tie loosened, jacket discarded, sleeve rolled to his elbows—there's something dangerous in his gaze. Something quiet, simmering. All the more terrifying than yelling.

"I see I failed you," he says, setting down his briefcase. His voice is calm. Too calm. "To make you feel so neglected… you considered outsourcing my job."

Your breath stutters as he approaches, undoing the top button of his dress shirt, eyes fixed on you like you're both a problem and the solution.

"Kento, I was just—"

"Joking?" he murmurs, stepping between your knees as you sit on the edge of the bed. His large palm slides up your thigh, warm, adoring. "Darling, you know better than to joke about things like that."

You open your mouth to protest again, but the way he tugs your panties down in one fluid motion tells you talking isn't part of the plan.

He kneels in front of you—his hands still gentle, always gentle—but his mouth? His tongue?

That is punishment.

By the time he rises again, your legs are shaking, your voice wrecked from the begging. And he's not even undone his belt yet.

"Now," he murmurs, brushing your hair back, kissing your temple. "You're going to apologize properly."

He turns you over onto your stomach, pressing a soft kiss between your shoulder blades before he pulls your hips up, spine arching under his guidance. He lines himself up, slow and reverent, like he's not about to break you from the inside out.

And when he pushes in—fully, deeply, thickly—you cry out his name like a confession.

His hands are firm on your waist. His pace is steady, precise, measured—the way he approaches everything else in life. But his voice, oh, his voice…

"I never want to hear about batteries," he growls into your ear. "I never want you to think there's something that could replace me. You want pleasure? You wait. You wait for your man."

You nod, blubbering, barely able to speak through the way he hits you just right.

"And when I come home from a long day," he pants, pace finally stuttering, "I want to find you right here—warm ,ready, aching—like the good girl you are."

He fucks you through your orgasm like it's his duty. When he finishes inside you with a soft moan of your name, he stays pressed to your back, kissing your shoulder softly, breathing hard against your skin.

"I'll always take care of you," he murmurs, voice hoarse. "No substitute. Ever."

You nod, blissed out and dazed, a sleepy smile curling your lips.

And he, ever the gentlemen, tucks you in the whisper:

"You're mine. And I take my responsibilities seriously."

FUSHIGURO TOJI—"BATTERY-OPERATED? CUTE"

You did wait. The last thing you needed was Toji edging you to your next life. Because he would, even more after you apparently offended him with the use of your pathetic little toy, or so he said.

"You what?"

His voice is flat. Unimpressed. He's tossing your vibrator between his fingers like it's a joke—a sad little toy he plucked from your drawer the second he walked in and saw the way you looked at him: guilty. Needy. Ruined before he even touched you.

"I—It died," you mumble, cheeks hot. "I was just—I wasn't gonna finish—"

"Oh, you weren't? he laughs, full-bellied and sharp. "Could've fooled me. Look at you. So fuckin' desperate you pulled this pathetic thing out like it'd satisfy you?"

He tosses it aside like trash and stalks towards the bed.

"You really think something like that could do what I do?" His shirt is already done, his belt undone—and there's that familiar glint in his eyes: wicked, ravenous. Mean.

By the time he's got you on your stomach, ass in the air, his hands are already spreading your thighs like he owns them.

"Should've waited for me, baby," he says, leaning over your back, tip of his cock dragging between your folds. "Now I gotta show you—again—what the real thing feels like."

The first thrust knocks the breath out of you.

He's thick. Deep. Filling you in a way that makes your eyes roll and brain empty. There's no buildup—just Toji, slamming into you like you owe him something. Like this is a lesson you need to learn.

"You feel that?" he grunts, hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you up just enough to hear your whimpers. "You think some battery-powered piece of plastic could fuck you this deep?"

He slaps your ass, watches it bounce. His thrusts are brutal, unrelenting. You're already clenching, already gasping—and he's just getting started.

"Say it," a low, hungry sound leaving that pretty face of his. "Say you're sorry for trying to replace me."

"I'm—fuck—sorry," you cry, barely able to breathe. "It's not the same, I swear—"

"Damn right it's not the same," he snarls, grabbing your hips tighter, driving into you so hard the headboard cracks. "You're mine. This pussy's mine. Don't you ever forget that again."

Your orgasm hits like a freight train—unexpected, unstoppable—and he doesn't let up. He keeps going, even when your legs shake, even when you sob his name like a prayer.

By the time he's done, his cum is dripping from between your thighs, you're brain's barely functioning.

And still, he leans down, kisses your shoulder, voice low and smug.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," he purrs, "I'll buy you a new one."

A beat. A smirk.

"Just so I can break it again."

RYOMEN SUKUNA—"IMPUDENT LITTLE THING"

His throne room is dim and gold-drenched, heat coiling in the air like smoke.

You hadn't even meant to tell him about the broke thing—the poor, dead vibrator now tucked in the bottom of your drawer—but he felt it the second he returned. Felt your body still humming with frustration, with denial. With betrayal.

"You toyed with yourself," Sukuna murmurs, voice like velvet over glass. "In my absence. With that?" You flinch under his gaze. His four eyes burn with quiet disdain, like he's looking at something pitiful—a servant that disobeyed. A possession that misbehaved.

"Sukuna, I didn't mean—"

"You did not wait for me." He steps down from the throne, barefoot and lethal. "And you expect leniency?"

The broken vibrator is on the nightstand of his chamber, like a criminal caught in the act. Sukuna sees it. Picks it up. Smirks.

"Pathetic little thing." Hi s voice is thick with amusement and venom as he lets it fall with a dull thunk on the floor. Then he turns to you—already bare, already flushed, knees pressed together nervously on his bed.

He's quiet for a beat.

Then he's on you.

One hand wraps around your ankle, dragging you flat onto your back like a prey. His body covers yours in an instant—massive, solid, terrifying—all ancient muscle and cruel intention. He grabs your thighs, shoves them open, wide enough to ache, and settles between them like a god claiming tribute.

"Let's see what kind of mess that toy made," he murmurs, running two fingers through your folds. You're embarrassingly soaked. "Tch. You're still this wet for me?"

You gasp, but he doesn't wait. He lines himself up—thick, heavy, perfect—and slides in deep in one brutal, punishing stroke.

Your back arches of the. He growls, low and guttural.

"That's it," Sukuna hisses, pressing down until you're completely folded under him, legs hooked over his shoulders, hips pinned. "Look at me."

You're trembling. There's nowhere to hide. His four crimson eyes stare down at you, devouring every twitch, every moan, every time your lashes flutter.

"Is this what you need? A fake little buzz, or this—my cock kissing your womb like it belongs there?"

He starts to move—slowly at first, but each thrust grows more intense. More deliberate. He rolls his hips to grind impossibly deep, relishing the way you gasp with each stroke, they way your hands claw helplessly at his arms.

"You'll take every inch," he grunts. "Every drop."

One hand slides to your belly, pressing down—you feel the bulge of him inside you, obscene and undeniable.

"Look at how deep I am. That toy never even made it past your entrance."

You whimper, lost in him. He smirks.

"That's right. Whimper for me. Let that ruined cunt remember what real pleasure feels like."

And then he snaps his hips.

Again. And again.

You come—not once, but twice—sobbing his name, thighs trembling against his shoulders, body a trembling mess beneath him. And still he doesn't stop.

"One more," he growls. "You're gonna come again—with my cock inside, and my name in your throat."

You do.

And he follows.

Sukuna spills inside you with a low, possessive groan, burying himself to the hilt. You feel full—thick warmth flooding you until it leaks around his cock, dripping down your thighs.

When he finally lets your leg down, he doesn't pull out.

He lays on top of you—heavy, warmth and possessive—cock still buried deep.

"You'll stay like this," he murmurs against your ear. "So every time you walk, you feel me leaking out."

And with a final, smug chuckle, he adds:

"Try replacing that, little one."

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI—"EMERGENCY RELIEF"

You barely make it to the bed before he's pressing you down, lips grazing your cheek with a quiet, unimpressed sigh.

"You couldn't wait for me?" he murmurs against your skin.

You whimper a weak sorry—but he's already there, behind you, hand curling under your thigh to lift your leg over his hip, cock slowly sliding into you from behind, inch by deliberate inch.

"I'm here now,' he says quietly. "So stop fidgeting."

You nod, biting your lip as he sinks in deep, so deep you swear you can feel him in your chest. The room is dim and quiet, his chest warm against your back, his arm beneath your head holding you still like you're made of something precious.

He doesn't thrust hard. He rolls into you. Every deep, slow stroke is maddening—filling, soothing, wrecking.

"You couldn't wait, so now you're going to take your time," he says against your shoulder. "That toy couldn't do this."

You can't even argue. You're too full, too breathless, the angle of your leg letting him reach everything inside you that makes your spine arch and your eyes flutter.

His hand slips between your thighs, thumb circling your clit in lazy, knowing motions.

He kisses your neck softly.

"Always so needy," he murmurs. "But this is what you wanted, wasn't it?"

You nod fast, moaning quietly, trying to hold back the sounds that bubble up.

"'Gumi—please—"

"You're lucky I miss you," he says, voice low, almost smiling as he slows down even more, just to hear the whimper in your throat. "Because otherwise, I would've let you suffer for teasing me like that."

When you come, it's not loud—it's devastating. Your whole body tenses, then melts into him, sobbing as you fall apart, clenching around him like you're trying to keep him forever.

He follows soon after, a groan into your shoulder as he spills deep, still inside you, staying exactly where you both want him.

You're both quiet for a while.

His hand strokes along your side, his breathing slow.

Then, a quiet murmur:

"Throw that thing away."

You laugh, exhausted. "Yes, sir."

ITADORI YUJI—"PUT ME IN COACH"

"Okay—" he pants, sweat dripping down his temple as he presses deeper into you, "—you're gonna have to say if it's too much, 'kay?"

You laugh, gasping as his hips meet your ass again, thick cock hitting just the right spot. "You're literally apologizing while wrecking me."

"Wha—I'm not wrecking you," Yuji huffs, offended. "I'm being gentle!"

You look over your shoulder, barely managing a smirk. "Baby, you're flatting me against the bed and whispering sweet nothings while my face is in a pillow."

He whines—actually whines—and leans over you, punishing, pushing you deeper in the prone bone position, his broad chest on your back, lips at your ear.

"I'm just—trying to make it good for you," he mumbles, hips stuttering when you clench around him. "Better than your toy."

You giggle, breath shaky. "You're jealous of my vibrator."

He groans. "You named it."

"I name everything!"

"I heard you say 'he never lets me down' with a smile," he mutters into your neck.

"And yet—" you moan as he grinds into you slow and deep, making your legs shake, "—here I am, flat on my stomach, absolutely owned."

Yuji moans again, like it physically affects him. "Yeah? Say it louder."

"You're better," you whisper, breath hitching as his thrusts quicken, muscles flexing above you. "So much better, Yuji—oh my god—"

His arm wraps around your waist, holding you tighter. "Good. Because I'm not stopping until you forget his name."

He means it, too. He's panting, flushed, focused completely on your pleasure. Every roll of his hips is desperate, not for release, but to feel you fall apart beneath him. When you come, he nearly cries, whispering "that's it, that's my girl," over and over like a prayer.

And even after, when your legs are shaking and you're practically sobbing into the sheets, he's still kidding you back, asking if you're okay, offering water—

Right before he says:

"… so, we are throwing him out, right?"

499 notes · View notes

noorpersona · 3 months ago

Text

Favourite Positions: Hinata

You didn’t usually date short guys.

It wasn’t personal—just a preference. You liked being manhandled. Liked being tossed around, bent over, pinned. You’d always thought height made that easier. You wanted to be overwhelmed, and you never thought someone with a boyish grin and a 174 cm frame would be the one to do it.

But Hinata Shōyō?

Was a beast.

Not just in the way he moved, though that was devastating enough. He had stamina for days, legs like pistons, arms strong enough to lift you like you weighed nothing. But it was the way he looked at you when he was inside you—like he was starved, like he was built for this. Like your pleasure was his mission.

And when you were underneath him? Flat on your back, legs thrown over his shoulders, Hinata kneeling over you with your ankles hooked behind his neck?

There was no going back.

“I wanna see everything,” he’d whispered the first time, flushed and breathless, the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance. “Wanna see your face when I make you lose it.”

And now?

Now he was fucking you like he meant it.

Your thighs trembled where they rested over his shoulders, calves draped down his back as his hips snapped into yours. His hands were braced beside your head, body bent forward so his chest hovered over yours. The position had you folded nearly in half, stretched wide, completely taken.

“So—tight,” he groaned, jaw clenched as he pounded into you with brutal rhythm, curls damp and clinging to his forehead. “God, you feel… fuck… you feel so good.”

Your back arched off the bed, fingers fisting the sheets, eyes fluttering as pleasure crackled through your nerves.

“Shōyō—too deep, it’s too much—”

“No,” he gasped, snapping his hips harder, “It’s perfect. You can take it. Just hold on, I’ve got you.”

You sobbed as his cock hit that devastating spot inside you over and over, your body clenching, quivering. The position had you stretched and pinned, his body grinding into yours with relentless force. You could feel the headboard banging against the wall, the slap of skin-on-skin loud in the air.

Hinata leaned closer, your knees nearly pressed to your chest, and he grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together as he fucked you harder.

“I wanna see it,” he panted, eyes fixed on your face. “Come for me. Right now. Let me see how pretty you look when you break.”

And you did.

You shattered with a scream, back arching violently, mouth falling open in a ragged cry as your orgasm slammed through you. Your vision went white, your body seizing under the weight of the pleasure, twitching uncontrollably. You couldn’t even breathe—couldn’t think.

It didn’t stop.

He kept fucking you through it, hips rolling hard and deep, watching you fall apart beneath him like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Your hands clawed at his arms, thighs trembling wildly, mouth babbling nonsense—you didn’t even realize what you were saying. You were crying. Moaning. Whimpering please and don’t stop in the same breath.

Hinata groaned, deep and broken, and you felt his rhythm falter just slightly before he buried himself deep, grinding his hips hard into yours as he came with a strangled gasp. The warmth of him flooding you only sent another pulse of aftershock through your body, another twitch of oversensitivity that made your breath catch.

He stayed there, chest heaving, forehead resting against yours.

Your chest was heaving, fingers twitching, mind blank except for the echo of your own voice—broken, desperate, high-pitched and gasping his name like it was the only thing you knew how to say.

Your body was still convulsing in little aftershocks when Hinata leaned over you, his breath warm and uneven, and started pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your skin.

First to your collarbone. Then lower.

His lips trailed down the curve of your breast, lingering over the swell as his hand spread wide over your stomach—grounding you, holding you, but never still.

You jolted when his mouth dipped lower again, his tongue lapping at the sheen of sweat on your ribs, and then his lips brushed just under your navel.

“Shōyō—” you whimpered, voice rasping from overuse, hips twitching.

He smiled against your skin, kissed lower.

“Too much?” he whispered, but didn’t stop. He was everywhere—on your hips, your thighs, your waist, like he needed to taste every part of what he just ruined.

Every place his mouth touched made you flinch, a fresh wave of oversensitivity crawling across your skin. But you didn’t stop him.

You couldn’t.

And neither could he.

By the time he leaned up again, his hands were back on your waist, thumbs stroking soft, absentminded circles against your flushed skin. His eyes were bright, cheeks still a little pink, and his grin—smug, breathless, a little crooked—stole the last of your breath.

“Wanna go again?”

You blinked. And despite the fact that your legs were jelly, your brain scrambled, your body completely wrecked—you still managed to nod.

A slow, wicked grin spread across his face.

Yeah. You didn’t usually date short guys.

But Hinata wasn’t like anyone else.

662 notes · View notes

sweetmisery · 5 months ago

Text

touch me, tease me | choi jiung

summary: what started as a silly crush, ended with this - pinned beneath Jiung, his touch slow, deliberate torment. only one thought lingers on your mind: how much longer could you withstand Jiung‘s teasing?

pairing: jiung x female!reader

genre: smut

warnings: mdni! foreplay (f receiving), protected sex, looots of teasing

word count: 10k

a/n: well that escalated quickly lol this wasn‘t meant to be this long but i just couldn‘t stop writing about teasing Jiung 😝 (also blonde Jiung is just ugh!!!) it's been a while since i have written smut and i like keeping it a little decent 🙈 thank you @lilacs4ung for requesting this, i hope this matches your suggestions :) hope you enjoy reading it ♡

The club was loud, music pulsing through the air, lights flashing in chaotic patterns, and bodies moving in every direction. You had lost track of how many drinks you had, but you knew it was enough to make the room spin slightly. Keeho and Intak had kept a close eye on you all night, laughing at your slightly clumsy movements but making sure you didn’t get into too much trouble.

You stumbled off the dance floor, giggling at absolutely nothing, and found them sitting at a booth near the bar. They looked up as you approached, and Keeho immediately raised an eyebrow.

"Are you okay?" he asked, reaching out to steady you as you nearly tripped over your own feet.

Intak, on the other hand, just laughed. "Yeah, you don’t look okay," he teased. "Maybe we should get you home?"

You shook your head, then paused to steady yourself. “Can we go to your place?”

Keeho and Intak exchanged a glance.

"Whyyy?" Keeho asked, dragging the word out as if he already knew you were about to say something stupid.

You didn’t even hesitate. “Because Jiung is there.”

The second the words left your mouth, you realized your mistake.

Silence stretched between the three of you, the club’s pounding music suddenly background noise compared to the sheer weight of your drunken confession. You watched as Keeho and Intak turned to each other, their confusion melting into matching smirks.

“Ohhh,” Intak said, grinning from ear to ear.

Keeho leaned in, eyebrows raised. "Interesting."

Your stomach dropped. "What?"

Intak nudged Keeho. "She wants to go to our place because Jiung is there."

Keeho gasped dramatically. "Wait- could it be? Our dear friend has a crush?"

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. "Can we just go?"

Keeho and Intak exchanged another knowing look, their grins widening. They didn’t say anything as they grabbed their coats, but you just knew this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

“So, since when have you had the hots for Jiung?” Keeho asked, his voice dripping with amusement.

You rolled your eyes, stumbling slightly as you walked. "I don't have the hots for him."

Intak snickered. "Uh-huh. Sure. That’s why you immediately asked to go to our place when you found out he was there?"

The alcohol had you feeling bold or reckless, maybe both, so you huffed and threw your hands up. “Fine! I think he’s hot! Like, stupidly, unfairly hot! I mean, have you seen him? His jawline? His voice? His hands?”

Keeho and Intak bursted into laughter, but you were on a roll now.

“And he’s so… I don’t know, cool. Like, effortlessly cool. It’s annoying! And don’t even get me started on when he wears those sleeveless shirts because oh my god. I want him so bad-”

You stopped. The realization hit like a truck. Your eyes went wide as your drunken brain catched up with what your mouth had been spewing for the past minute and a half.

Slowly, you turned to look at Keeho and Intak, who were now wheezing, practically crying from laughter. Keeho was bent over, gripping his stomach, while Intak was clutching onto his shoulder for support.

"Oh no," you whispered, horrified. "I talked too much."

Keeho wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh, you sure did."

Intak grinned. "I think my favorite part was when you said you wanted him."

You choked. "I said what?"

Keeho smirked. "You said, and I quote - 'I want him so bad.'"

You stared at them in absolute horror as the words replayed in your head. You did say that. Out loud.

"Take me home," you mumbled, covering your face. "Bury me in the ground. I don't exist anymore."

But Keeho just threws an arm around your shoulder, shaking his head with a devilish grin. "Oh no, we're definitely going to our place now."

"And you're definitely facing Jiung," Intak added.

You were doomed.

The ride to Keeho and Intak’s apartment was torture. They wouldn’t shut up about Jiung, throwing your own words back at you every chance they got. You threatened to jump out of the car, but that only made them laugh harder.

By the time you arrived, you were fully expecting to die of embarrassment the moment you stepped inside. But then - relief.

Jiung wasn’t there.

“Thank god,” you mumbled under your breath, slumping against the doorway.

Keeho glanced at his phone. “He must be working late,” he muttered before tossing his keys onto the counter. “Lucky you.”

You let out a huge sigh and stumbled toward the couch, throwing yourself onto it dramatically. The cushions were soft, and your body finally relaxed now that the immediate threat of Jiung witnessing your humiliation had passed.

But Keeho and Intak? They weren’t about to let you off the hook so easily.

“So…” Keeho dragged out the word as he flopped onto the couch beside you.

Intak plopped down on the armrest, grinning. “Are we just gonna ignore the fact that you said you want Jiung?”

You groaned, burying your face in a pillow. “Can we please forget that happened?”

Keeho scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

"You said you want him," Intak reminded you, smirking. “So, maybe you should try to get him.”

You lifted your head just enough to glare at him. “Yeah? And how do you suggest I do that?”

Keeho shrugged. “I mean, Jiung is still single. He’d definitely be down for a little fun.”

Intak hummed in agreement. “He hasn’t been with a girl in a while, so honestly? He’s probably just as desperate as you are.”

You choked. “Excuse me?”

Intak grinned. “I’m just saying…”

“Stop,” you groaned, dragging your hands down your face. The heat creeping up your neck was unbearable, and it only got worse when Intak and Keeho exchanged that look, like they were already planning ways to make this worse for you.

But thankfully, after a few more minutes of teasing, they seemed to get bored of torturing you. Keeho stretched with a yawn. “Alright, I’m heading to bed. Don’t stay up all night thinking about Jiung, okay?”

Intak smirked as he stood up. “Or do. Might help you manifest something.”

You grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. He dodged effortlessly, laughing as he disappeared into his room. Keeho followed, leaving you alone in the living room.

You exhaled deeply and sank further into the couch, exhausted. The apartment was quiet now, the only sound being the distant hum of the city outside. The warmth of the alcohol still lingered in your body, making your eyelids heavy. You didn’t even bother grabbing a blanket. The couch was comfortable enough, and after the chaos of the night, sleep took you instantly.

The first thing you felt when you woke up was a pounding headache. The second was the realization that you weren’t in your own bed. Your eyes fluttered open, and as you stared at the ceiling, it took you a moment to remember - Keeho and Intak’s apartment. The place they shared with Jiung.

Panic set in.

You groaned softly, rubbing your face as memories from last night started flooding back. The club. The drinks. The things you had told the boys about Jiung.

Oh god.

You squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment, silently praying that Jiung hadn’t seen you passed out on the couch. Maybe he still wasn’t home. Maybe you could sneak out before anyone noticed. Slowly, you sat up, scanning the apartment. The place was quiet, and there was no sign of Keeho or Intak. That was a good sign, right? You quickly gathered your things, trying to be as quiet as possible. If you could just slip out the door without making a sound-

"Leaving already?"

You froze.

That voice was too familiar. Your breath caught in your throat as you turned around, heart pounding.

There he was.

Jiung stood a few feet away, looking effortlessly attractive despite being dressed casually in sweatpants and a hoodie. His bleached hair was slightly messy, and the soft morning light from the window made him look even more unreal.

You let out an awkward laugh, trying to mask your nervousness. “Uh- yeah. I need to shower and everything.”

Jiung tilted his head slightly, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You can shower here.”

You blinked. What?

Before you could respond, he walked past you toward the kitchen. “I was about to make breakfast,” he added casually. “It’d be a shame if you couldn’t try the best pancakes in the world.”

Your brain short-circuited. Jiung was… inviting you to stay? Why was he being so nice to you all of a sudden? You had never really talked much before, and now he was offering you a shower and pancakes?

You swallowed, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks. “O-okay. I’ll just ask Keeho if I can borrow some clothes.”

Jiung nodded before disappearing into the kitchen, leaving you standing there, completely dazed.

As you made your way to the bathroom, your mind raced. Was Jiung just being polite? Or did he- no, stop. Don’t overthink this. Still, as you closed the bathroom door behind you, you couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh.

This man was going to make you suffer.

After a quick shower and changing into the clothes Keeho lent you, you took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom. The scent of fresh pancakes and syrup filled the air, making your stomach grumble. As you entered the kitchen, Keeho, Intak, and Jiung were already sitting at the table, plates of food in front of them.

The moment Intak spotted you, he grinned and, with a mouth full of food, yelled, "Good morning, drunkard!"

You froze.

Keeho burst out laughing, and even Jiung let out a small chuckle as your entire face heated up. You groaned, rubbing your temples as you sat down at the table, avoiding their amused gazes. "Can you not?"

"Sorry, sorry," Intak said, clearly not sorry at all. "You just had a lot to say last night. Very entertaining stuff."

You shot him a glare before quickly turning your attention to the plate in front of you. The food looked incredible, but more than anything, you found yourself staring at the stack of pancakes Jiung had made. They were golden brown, drizzled with syrup, and smelled heavenly.

You picked up your fork and took a bite, your eyes widening slightly. "Oh my god."

Jiung glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. "Good?"

"So good," you admitted, immediately taking another bite.

He smirked slightly before focusing back on his own food. Keeho, however, wasn’t about to let the moment slide.

"So, what’s the plan for today?" Keeho asked, stretching lazily.

Jiung leaned back in his chair. "We could just stay in. Play some video games, watch some movies."

Intak nodded. "Sounds good to me."

You swallowed the last of your pancake and wiped your hands on a napkin. "I should probably head home after breakfast."

You expected them to just nod, but instead, Jiung looked up from his plate. "You can chill with us if you want."

Your heart stopped for a second.

Keeho and Intak both turned to look at you, and you could practically feel their knowing smirks burning into your skin. Why was Jiung asking you to stay? You weren’t even that close. You’d barely talked before.

You hesitated, still processing his words, but then… you realized something. This was your chance. Your chance to get closer to him, even if it was going to be awkward as hell now that Keeho and Intak knew just how down bad you were for Jiung.

You cleared your throat, keeping your expression as neutral as possible. "Uh… yeah. I guess I could stay a little longer."

Intak smirked. Keeho wiggled his eyebrows. Jiung just nodded and continued eating like he hadn’t just thrown your entire world into chaos.

You were so doomed.

The day had gone by in a blur of video games, silly movies, and way too much teasing from Keeho and Intak. You had done your best to act normal around Jiung, but every time you glanced in his direction, you felt the heat rise to your cheeks.

Now, as the evening settled in, you stretched your arms and let out a small sigh. “Alright, I should really head home now.” You glanced at the others, expecting someone to offer to drive you. “Anyone down to take me?”

Keeho suddenly let out an exaggerated yawn, stretching his arms. “Ahh, I’m so tired. I think I need to go to bed right now.”

You narrowed your eyes. Liar.

Intak smirked. “Yeah, same. I have to prep some things for work.”

Before you could argue, Keeho turned to Jiung, grinning way too much. “Jiung can drive you home.”

Your stomach dropped.

Jiung barely hesitated before nodding. “Sure, I can do that.”

You swore you heard Intak snicker under his breath. Keeho gave you a pointed look, and before you could even react, both of them were already heading toward their rooms, leaving you alone with Jiung.

You glared at the hallway where they disappeared, knowing full well they did that on purpose.

Jiung grabbed his jacket and car keys before turning to you. “Got everything?”

You nodded quickly, still trying to process that this was actually happening. “Yeah.”

The two of you headed outside, the air crisp against your skin as you climbed into Jiung’s car. The moment he started the engine, a thick awkward silence settled between you. You stared straight ahead, your hands resting in your lap, too aware of his presence beside you. Jiung, in his usual effortless way, didn’t seem fazed at all. But you? Your thoughts were racing.

Then, after a beat, Jiung reached for the console and turned on some music, filling the quiet with a soft melody. You exhaled, relaxing a little. But then, as you subtly glanced at him from the corner of your eye, a new problem presented itself.

Jiung looked… insanely attractive when driving.

The way his hands gripped the steering wheel, the faint glow of the dashboard lights reflecting off his skin, the relaxed expression on his face as he focused on the road - it was almost too much.

You swallowed, quickly looking away. This is fine. Just act normal.

But no matter how hard you tried, the thought wouldn’t leave your head.

The rest of the drive to your apartment had been quiet, aside from the soft hum of the music playing through the speakers. You spent most of the time overthinking, stealing glances at Jiung while trying to act normal.

But somehow, you had survived.

As Jiung pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex, he slowed to a stop. You exhaled, feeling a mix of relief and disappointment. Relief because you finally made it home without embarrassing yourself, but disappointment because you didn’t want the night to end just yet.

You turned to Jiung with a small smile. “Thanks for the ride.”

He nodded, lips quirking up slightly. “Anytime.”

You reached for the car door handle, ready to step out - but then, a thought hit you.

This was it. Your chance.

You had spent so long admiring Jiung from a distance, always feeling like there was some invisible barrier between you two. But now, after everything that had happened today, the breakfast, the movies, the car ride, you felt closer to him than ever. If you didn’t take this opportunity now… would you ever get another one?

Your heart pounded. Before you could talk yourself out of it, the words left your mouth.

"Do you maybe… wanna come up?"

The second you said it, regret hit you like a truck.

Why did you say that?!

Jiung was probably going to turn you down, politely decline, and you’d have to live with the embarrassment for the rest of your life. You braced yourself, already planning how you’d laugh it off and pretend you weren’t dying inside. But then-

“I’d love to.”

Your breath caught. You turned to him, eyes wide, expecting him to be joking. But Jiung just looked at you, completely serious. He wanted to come up.

You quickly nodded, trying to ignore the way your pulse was racing. “O-okay. Cool. Yeah. Let’s go.”

Jiung smirked slightly, unbuckling his seatbelt.

As you both stepped out of the car and walked toward your building, one thought consumed your mind. What the hell did you just get yourself into?

The moment you stepped inside your apartment, a strange, heavy tension filled the air. Jiung followed behind you, his presence impossible to ignore. You set your things down, pretending to be busy while trying to calm your racing heart.

Jiung leaned casually against the wall, watching you with a small smirk, as if he could tell just how nervous you were. Then, his voice cut through the silence. "So… why did you invite me up?"

You froze.

Your breath hitched as you turned to look at him, caught completely off guard. "I- uh- I just thought maybe you wanted to, you know… chill a bit more before heading home."

Jiung raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Oh?" He tilted his head slightly, taking a slow step closer. "And why do you think I agreed to come up?"

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the way he was looking at you. There was a small pause, the tension between you both thick enough to drown in.

Then, finally, Jiung spoke again. "Well… if I'm being honest… I wanted to spend some time alone with you."

Your mind went blank.

What.

Did he just-?

You stared at him, trying to process his words, but your brain refused to function. Jiung could sense your nervousness, and instead of backing off, he only made it worse. He took another step forward, closing the space between you. His voice dropped slightly, teasing yet soft. "Isn’t that what you wanted too?"

Your head snapped up, eyes locking with his. Your throat went dry. Your heart was pounding. You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat before you finally stammered out, “Y-y-yes.”

Jiung’s lips curved into a soft smile, and before you could even react, he reached out and gently took your hand in his. "You don’t need to be nervous," he murmured. His thumb brushed lightly over the back of your hand, sending shivers down your spine.

But how could you not be nervous? Jiung was this close, his touch was this gentle, his gaze was this intense. How were you supposed to survive this moment without completely falling apart?

Jiung’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand again, his grip gentle but so distracting. You felt like you were standing on the edge of a cliff, the air thick with something undeniable.

“I have to admit something,” Jiung said, his voice smooth yet laced with amusement.

You blinked, still trying to get your heart rate under control. “W-what?”

He leaned in slightly, the teasing glint in his eyes unmistakable. “Keeho and Intak told me about what you said at the club.”

The world stopped.

Your entire body went stiff. Your face felt like it had been set on fire. The ground beneath you? Gone. The last shred of your dignity? Disintegrated.

Jiung knew.

He knew what you had said about him. That you found him hot. That you wanted him.

Your brain screamed at you to run, to somehow escape this nightmare, but your body betrayed you, completely frozen in place.

Jiung tilted his head, watching your reaction with pure amusement. “You’re really quiet all of a sudden.”

You snapped out of your panic just long enough to stumble over an apology. “I- I’m so sorry, I was just really drunk, and I didn’t know what I was saying, and I-”

Jiung’s expression shifted slightly. His eyebrows furrowed, and his grip on your hand tightened just a little. “So you didn’t actually mean what you said?”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

Crap.

You had meant it. Every. Single. Word. But how were you supposed to admit that to his face? You could barely even breathe properly around him, and now he was expecting you to just… say it? You scrambled for an answer, but before you could even attempt to dig yourself out of the hole you were in, Jiung let out a small sigh.

“Well, too bad.”

Your breath hitched.

Jiung’s gaze locked onto yours, and with the most casual expression in the world, he added, “Because I was just about to tell you that I feel the same way about you.”

What. The. Hell.

Your brain short-circuited. Your mouth fell open, but nothing - absolutely nothing - came out.

He felt the same way? Since when?! You couldn’t process it. Couldn’t even react properly. All you could do was stare at him in complete shock, your heart threatening to explode. Jiung, on the other hand? He looked so smug. So completely amused by your flustered reaction. And you? You were absolutely doomed.

Jiung chuckled softly, his smug expression only making your flustered state worse. "You should say something," he teased, tilting his head slightly.

But you couldn’t. Your brain had completely shut down, your words tangled up somewhere between your rapidly beating heart and the overwhelming realization that Jiung liked you back. "I-" you swallowed, struggling to find the right words. "I don’t know what to say."

Jiung let out a small hum, his amusement only growing. "That’s cute."

Your face burned even hotter, and Jiung, clearly enjoying how easy it was to tease you, decided to push a little further.

"So?" He leaned in just a fraction closer. "Are you going to admit it?"

You bit your lip, your fingers curling into your palms. He wasn’t going to let this go. He was waiting - waiting for you to say it out loud. And god, you wanted to deny it, to keep holding onto whatever tiny bit of composure you had left, but the way he was looking at you, the way your heart was racing just being near him.

You inhaled sharply before finally muttering, “I- I like you.”

Jiung’s smirk widened. "See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

You glared at him, your face still burning, but before you could come up with a response, Jiung's tone suddenly shifted, just slightly. "Since we’re being honest…" He let his fingers brush against your wrist, his touch light but deliberate. "I’d be down so bad to have a little fun with you."

Your breath hitched.

Jiung watched you carefully, his expression playful but also sincere. "But only if you wanted to of course," he added. "I don’t want to push you."

You knew what he meant. And the thought alone sent your entire nervous system into overdrive.

"I-" You opened your mouth, then immediately closed it, panic creeping in. "I don’t… I don’t know how to do that."

Jiung’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Do what?"

You hesitated before forcing yourself to say it.

"Get intimate with someone?"

His lips parted in surprise, and for a second, you thought he had misunderstood what you meant. But then you quickly shook your head. "No! I mean- that’s not what I meant."

Jiung tilted his head, now genuinely curious. “Then what do you mean?”

You exhaled, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "I mean… intimacy without commitment."

Jiung’s expression shifted slightly, his usual playful smirk replaced by something more serious. He studied you for a moment, his gaze searching, as if trying to figure out exactly what you meant by that.

The silence between you felt heavier now. Not awkward, but weighted, like you had just opened a door neither of you had ever stepped through before. And for the first time all night, Jiung didn’t immediately have a teasing remark ready. Instead, he simply watched you, waiting for you to say more. Waiting to see where this was going to go.

Jiung was silent for a moment, his gaze locked onto yours, as if carefully considering what you had just said.

"Intimacy without commitment."

His fingers, still lightly brushing against your wrist, suddenly traced a little higher, barely grazing your forearm. The touch was subtle, almost innocent but not quite.

"You don’t know how to do that?" he murmured, voice low and laced with something undeniably teasing.

Your breath caught in your throat.

Jiung tilted his head slightly, studying your reaction. "So… does that mean you’ve never done it? Or just that you don’t know if you could?"

Your throat went dry. He was testing you, pushing just a little to see how much you could take. "I just-" You swallowed, trying to keep your thoughts straight. "I don’t know how to… separate it. How to be close to someone without getting-"

Jiung took another step forward, closing the space between you inch by inch. "Attached?" he finished for you.

You nodded slowly, pulse hammering in your ears.

He hummed softly, his fingers trailing down your wrist before finally pulling away. The loss of contact made you exhale, only to realize that now his entire focus was on you.

"So if I were to touch you like this…" Jiung reached up, his knuckles barely grazing your jawline as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, featherlight, but your entire body reacted to it like a live wire. "Would it be too much?"

Your breath hitched. Was it?

You didn’t move away. You didn’t even flinch. But the way his fingertips lingered near your skin, the way his voice dripped with curiosity and amusement, it made it so much harder to think straight.

Jiung let his fingers trail down, brushing the side of your neck so deliberately that it sent a shiver down your spine. "Too much?" he asked again, his voice barely above a whisper.

You should say yes.

You really should. But instead, you just whispered, "No."

Jiung’s lips quirked up into a small, knowing smirk. "Interesting."

His hand dropped back to his side, but the electricity of his touch still lingered on your skin. You barely had a second to process what just happened before Jiung leaned in just enough for his breath to tickle your ear. "So, if there were no feelings involved," he murmured, voice dangerously soft, "you think you could handle this?"

Your heart nearly gave out. Jiung was testing you, pushing just enough to see how far you were willing to go. And the worst part? You weren’t sure if you even wanted him to stop.

The air felt thick, every breath you took weighed down by the lingering touch of Jiung’s fingers against your skin. You barely had a second to react before he suddenly reached for your hand. His grip was firm yet unbelievably gentle, and without a word, he guided you across the room toward the couch in your living room. Your pulse skyrocketed.

Jiung didn’t hesitate. He led you to sit down, his movements slow, deliberate, like he was savoring the way your body tensed under his touch. Then, without warning, he knelt down in front of you. Your heart stopped.

Jiung was right there, at your feet, his hands resting casually on his knees as he looked up at you with that same infuriatingly smug expression. The sight alone was almost too much. Too intimate. Too dangerous.

"You’re nervous," he mused, tilting his head. His voice was soft, but the teasing lilt in it was impossible to ignore.

You swallowed hard, gripping the fabric of your borrowed clothes. "I- I’m not."

Jiung’s lips curved into a smirk. "Liar."

Your face burned.

Then, slowly, he lifted his hand and rested it lightly on your knee. Not firm, not insistent, just enough for you to feel it. "Tell me," he murmured, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against your leg. "How far do you think you could go without catching feelings?"

Your entire brain shut down. The way he was looking at you - his dark eyes filled with pure amusement, like he was enjoying every second of watching you unravel - was enough to completely wreck you.

"I-" You swallowed again, your thoughts barely stringing together. "I don’t know."

Jiung hummed, pretending to think. Then, with excruciating slowness, he leaned in closer, his face inches from yours now, his breath warm against your skin. "Should we find out?"

Your stomach flipped.

Jiung’s hand, still resting on your knee, squeezed ever so slightly, just enough to send a spark of heat straight through you. He was testing you again. And you were seconds away from breaking. The air between you was thick, suffocating in the best and worst ways. Jiung’s presence, his touch, his words, had you balanced on a razor’s edge, and you had no idea how much longer you could hold yourself together.

Then, he dropped the bomb.

"How about we start off by getting rid of Keeho’s clothes?" Jiung murmured, his voice smooth yet playful. "It’s kinda distracting me."

You froze.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. Your brain struggled to process what he had just said. "W-what?" you finally managed, looking at him in pure shock.

Jiung let out a soft laugh, clearly amused by your reaction. "Okay, okay. I’ll start first."

And then, before you could even fully react, he reached for the hem of his hoodie and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion

You stopped breathing.

The fabric landed somewhere across the room, but you couldn’t care less. Because now, Jiung was kneeling in front of you, shirtless, his toned chest and sculpted shoulders fully on display. His hands - warm, gentle, deliberate - rested lightly on your thighs again, his fingers barely brushing against the fabric of Keeho’s sweatpants.

That was it. The breaking point.

Your pulse skyrocketed, your entire body burning under his touch.

Jiung tilted his head slightly, his expression a mix of amusement and something deeper. His gaze never left yours, watching every tiny reaction you gave him. He was still teasing you, but carefully.

"You good?" he murmured, his fingers tracing small circles against your leg.

You swallowed hard, nodding way too quickly. "Y-yeah."

Jiung smirked. "If you don’t want something, stop me, alright?"

You barely had the chance to process his words before your body reacted on its own.

"Don’t stop."

The words left your mouth before you could even think about them, barely above a whisper, but Jiung heard them loud and clear. His smirk deepened.

"You like when I tease you like this?" he asked, his voice lower, smoother, almost testing you again.

Your body betrayed you, a tiny, involuntary shiver running down your spine. Jiung’s hands squeezed just slightly against your thighs, his touch light but firm enough to send another wave of heat through you. Your lips parted, your breath shaky, as you stared at him, completely spellbound.

Jiung chuckled, leaning in just a little closer, his bare skin impossibly warm. "Very interesting," he murmured.

And just like that, he had you completely in the palm of his hand. He knew exactly what he was doing. The way he watched you, his gaze intense yet playful, made it impossible to think straight.

You barely had time to process the next wave of teasing before Jiung’s hands slid up just slightly, his thumbs grazing the sensitive skin where your thighs met your hips. His touch was featherlight, but it sent a shiver straight through you. Your breath hitched. Jiung noticed.

And that was when his teasing stopped - just for a second. His smirk softened, his grip on you easing as he looked up at you through his lashes. Then, his voice dropped into something quieter, something almost hesitant.

"Can I…?"

You barely had time to process the question before Jiung slowly, so achingly slowly, leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. Your entire body froze. Then melted.

His lips were warm, soft, and so deliberate, like he was giving you time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Jiung took your lack of resistance as an answer, his hands shifting slightly, still firm, still keeping you grounded, but now… closer.

The kiss was slow, teasing in the way he barely applied pressure at first, like he wanted to see just how much you wanted him before giving you more. And god, you wanted more.

When he finally pulled back just an inch, his breath still lingering against your lips, he tilted his head and smirked. "You’re shaking," he murmured.

You were. And you had absolutely no idea how you were supposed to recover from this. And you couldn’t take it anymore. Before he could pull away completely, you closed the distance, crashing your lips back onto his. Jiung let out a small sound of surprise, but it quickly melted into something deeper, something more certain. His hands gripped your thighs a little tighter, his body tensing slightly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

You needed more.

Jiung felt it too.

Because without warning, he stood up from the floor, his hands never leaving you, and slowly pushed you down onto the sofa. Your back met the cushions, and before you could even process what was happening, Jiung was hovering over you, his body perfectly aligned with yours.

This time, the kiss was different. It wasn’t teasing anymore. It was hungry. Intense. Like neither of you wanted to hold back any longer. Jiung’s lips moved against yours with purpose, his hand sliding up to rest at the side of your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your jaw.

You let out a small, shaky breath as his weight pressed slightly into you, grounding you beneath him. It was overwhelming - his warmth, his touch, the way his fingers gripped the fabric of Keeho’s borrowed shirt like he was seconds away from pulling it off of you. Your fingers tangled into his hair, tugging slightly, and that was when Jiung let out a low, satisfied hum against your lips.

"Eager, huh?" he murmured against your mouth, his tone dripping with amusement.

You barely had time to feel embarrassed because the next thing you knew, Jiung’s lips left yours only to trail lower, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your jawline, down to the side of your neck. Your breath hitched, your fingers tightening against his shoulders.

Jiung chuckled at your reaction, his voice low and warm. "I knew you liked it when I teased you."

And honestly? You couldn’t even deny it anymore.

Jiung’s lips moved against your skin with a deliberate slowness, as if he wanted to memorize every reaction you gave him. The warmth of his breath against your neck sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel the way he smiled against you, completely aware of how much he was affecting you.

Then, his fingers grazed the hem of your borrowed shirt. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his dark eyes filled with something intense yet undeniably gentle. His hands rested at the edge of the fabric, waiting. "Can I?" he asked softly, his voice lower now, more serious.

Your chest tightened, not from nerves, but from the weight of the moment. Jiung, for all his teasing and confidence, was still giving you control. He wanted this, but only if you did too. You nodded. That was all he needed. With excruciating slowness, he lifted the fabric, his fingers grazing your skin as he pulled it over your head and tossed it somewhere behind him. The way his gaze darkened as he took you in made your heart skip a beat.

His hands traced a slow path down your sides, his fingers barely pressing into your skin, just enough to leave a trail of heat in their wake. "You look so good," Jiung murmured, his voice laced with something deeper, something real.

Your breath hitched as he leaned back down, his lips brushing over your collarbone, lingering, before he kissed lower. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t hurried. It was slow, deliberate, like he wanted to take his time with you. Like he wanted you to feel everything.

Your fingers instinctively threaded through his hair, holding onto him as his lips pressed soft, mellow kisses along your skin, his hands mapping out every inch of you with an unbearable gentleness. It was intoxicating - the way he touched you, the way he worshipped every reaction you gave him, like he was savoring it.

"Still doing okay?" he murmured between kisses, his voice breathless but completely focused on you.

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough for him.

Jiung pulled back just enough to study your face, his fingertips trailing lightly over your waist, his expression softer now. "I mean it," he murmured. "I need you to tell me."

Your heart squeezed at his words, at the way he made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in this moment. You exhaled, your fingers tightening slightly against his shoulders. "I’m okay," you whispered.

Jiung smiled, really smiled, before pressing another kiss to your lips. "Good," he murmured against your mouth. And just like that, he pulled you right back under with him.

Jiung's lips were everywhere - soft, warm, deliberate as they trailed across your skin, leaving a path of heat and electricity in their wake. His fingers followed, tracing along your waist, your ribs, mapping out every inch of exposed skin like he was trying to memorize you. The slow drag of his touch sent shivers down your spine, and you knew - he was doing this on purpose.

Jiung pulled back just slightly, his breath warm against your skin. His dark eyes flickered up to yours, and the way he looked at you, like he was taking his time, like he was savoring this moment, made your stomach flip.

"You’re so easy to tease," he murmured, his lips curling into a small, knowing smirk.

Your face burned, and you let out a shaky breath. "Jiung-"

He shushed you, pressing a soft kiss to the edge of your jaw before whispering, "I like hearing the way you say my name."

Your fingers curled into the fabric of the couch, your entire body reacting to him in ways you couldn’t control. Jiung chuckled, obviously pleased with himself, his hands slowly traced down your belly, his eyes never leaving yours. You could feel your heart racing as he reached for the hem of your borrowed pants, his fingers brushing against your soft skin as he began to pull them down. You lifted your hips off the couch, helping him as he slid them down your legs and tossed them aside.

You were left laying there in just your panties, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as you carefully watched Jiung. He ran his hands over your thighs gently, his hands exploring further, taking in every inch of you. His teasing sent your mind into overdrive and you could feel yourself growing more and more aroused by the second, throbbing with need.

"You’re really not stopping me," he murmured, his voice quieter now, less playful, more real.

You swallowed hard, your hands moving instinctively to pull him closer.

"I don’t want you to stop," you whispered.

Jiung could see the anticipation in your eyes, the way your breath hitched every time his hand moved lower. With a smirk, he slipped his hand between your thighs, his fingers finding the damp fabric of your panties.

"You're so tense," he teased, tilting his head. His fingers danced over your panties, barely touching yet setting your nerves on fire. "Relax for me."

Relax? How were you supposed to relax when he was doing this?

Jiung’s hands continued their slow descent, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours but never quite closing the distance. You could feel his smirk against your skin.

"You can still stop me anytime," he reminded you, voice softer now, gentler, as if he wanted you to know that you were still in control.

But stopping was the last thing on your mind. You weren’t sure when it had happened, when your hesitation had started to fade, when the tension had become something you actually wanted to lean into instead of shy away from. Jiung saw it. Felt it.

And that was why, without warning, he tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Tell me how much you want this," he murmured, his lips barely an inch from yours.

It was a challenge. A test. And god, the way he looked at you, like he was daring you to admit it, made your whole body heat up. Your lips parted, your breath shaky.

Jiung waited.

And then, finally, you gave in.

"I want this… so fucking bad." Your voice came out softer than you expected, but it was honest.

Jiung smirked at your response, his eyes glinting with mischief. ''Oh, I know you do,'' he said, his voice dripping with confidence. ''But I'm going to make you wait for it.''

You bit your bottom lip, feeling another rush of arousal flood your panties at his words. You couldn't help but squirm as Jiung's body hovered just above yours, the heat radiating off of him, and you wanted nothing more than to feel his skin against yours.

Jiung leaned forward, his breath hot against your skin as he placed a gentle kiss on your bare chest. You shivered, hips bucking up towards him as you let out a low moan. You could feel his smile against your skin as he began to tease you once more, his fingers tracing lazy circles over the fabric of your panties.

''Please Jiung,'' you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. ''I need more.''

Jiung chuckled, his fingers continuing to tease you as he looked up at you. ''Patience y/n,'' he said, his voice low and husky. ''I'm going to make this so good for you.''

Before you could respond, he slipped his fingers under the edge of your panties, teasing you with the barest of touch. You let out another low moan, as you felt his fingers brush against your wet folds.

You gasped, your back arching as Jiung's fingers began to explore. He teased you under the fabric, his touch light and taunting, as his thumb began to draw small circles over your sensitive spot. The heat between your legs grew more intense with each passing second. His fingers danced over your skin, before he finally - finally - pushed two of them inside you slowly.

You barely had time to breathe before he started pumping them gently inside of you, making you feel a desire you had never experienced before. Jiung continued pressing soft, lingering kisses along your collarbone, down your shoulder, each one making your pulse race even faster.

That's when he paused, glancing up at you, making you whine at the sudden stop of his movement.

"You’re really letting me do whatever I want, huh?" Jiung murmured, his smirk deepening.

You bit your lip, your breath shaky. "Maybe."

"Dangerous answer," Jiung chuckled, shifting just a little closer, his fingers curling up just a little inside of you. "Still no complaints?"

You couldn’t complain. Not when he was looking at you like that. Not when his hand made you feel like your entire body was on fire. His lips found your neck again, his fingers moving just a little faster inside of you now and just like that, you were completely lost in him. You felt yourself growing more and more desperate, letting out sharp gasps as your body shivered slightly.

"Sensitive, huh?" He smirked against your skin, pressing a kiss just below your jawline before whispering, "I like that."

You swallowed hard, gripping the fabric of the couch beneath you. "Jiung-"

He hummed, acting completely unbothered, even as his hands explored new territory - testing, pushing, waiting to see how much you’d let him get away with.

''Please,' you whimpered, your voice full of need. ''I need to cum.''

For a moment it seemed like he finally gave in to your begging, his fingers diving deep inside of you as he moved them with a fierce urgency. You let out a load moan, as you felt yourself spiraling out of control.

Just as you felt an orgasm building up inside of you, Jiung pulled his fingers away, leaving you panting and desperate for more. You frowned, your body aching for release.

Jiung simply chuckled, his eyes filled with mischief. ''I'm not gonna let you have all the fun to yourself,'' he said, his voice low. His lips hovered over yours, so close yet still refusing to fully close the distance. "You said you wanted this," he murmured, his voice smooth and knowing.

You swallowed hard. "I do."

Jiung tilted his head, his hands slowly dragging lower. "Then how much do you trust me?"

The question sent another wave of heat through you. Your body reacted first, shifting instinctively closer to him. Your fingers tightened around his bare shoulders, the warmth of his skin under your touch making your head spin.

Jiung chuckled at your silence. "That much, huh?"

Then, with deliberate ease, he reached for the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging them down along with his boxers, kicking them off completely.

You gasped at the sight of Jiung being fully exposed to you now.

Jiung noticed.

"You’re staring," he teased, smirking as he settled back between your legs, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of your panties.

Your stomach flipped as he toyed with the waistband, giving you plenty of time to stop him. You should’ve been embarrassed. Maybe even hesitant. But the truth was, you had already let him push you this far, and stopping now… stopping now felt impossible. So, instead of answering, you lifted your hips slightly, wordlessly giving him permission.

Jiung’s gaze darkened. And with excruciating slowness, he hooked his fingers into the waistband and slid your panties down, leaving you completely vulnerable beneath him. He took his time, his eyes dragging over you, admiring every inch of skin he uncovered. Then, finally, he exhaled.

"God," he muttered, shaking his head slightly, his fingers pressing into your hips. "You have no idea how good you look right now."

Your face burned. Before you could response, Jiung reached for his sweatpants again and pulled a silver wrapper out of its pocket. Once he wrapped it over his length he hovered over you, steadying himself between your legs. His hands remained firm on your waist, grounding you, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

But just when you were about to completely melt into him, he pulled back slightly, his gaze meeting yours, his smirk softening just a little. "Still doing okay?"

You smiled, nodding. "Yeah."

Jiung studied you for a moment, as if making sure, before leaning down and pressing another kiss to your lips - slow, deep, filled with something more than just teasing. Something undeniable.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered against your ear.

Your stomach flipped at his words, heat pooling in your chest as Jiung’s hands resumed their slow exploration. His fingertips skimmed over your skin in featherlight touches, never lingering too long in one place - just enough to drive you insane.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your fingers tightening in his hair as you exhaled shakily. "Jiung… please, just-"

That was all he needed.

His grip on you tightened, his body pressing closer, his breath mixing with yours as he finally let himself fully sink into you. You moaned softly, your body stretching to accommodate him. Jiung moved slowly at first, his thrusts gentle and controlled and you could feel every inch of him, the sensation overwhelming. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper.

Jiung groaned, feeling his control slipping. He began to thrust harder, his movements becoming more frantic. You met him thrust for thrust, your nails digging into his back. You could feel yourself getting closer, the heat between the both of you building. Jiung's thrusts became erratic, his body shaking with effort. Your bodies intertwined, the tension grew as you moved together, your rhythm syncing perfectly.

This had started as a game - slow, teasing, meant to test you, to push you just far enough without completely unraveling you.

But now… now it was different.

Jiung had finally given in and now, neither of you wanted to stop.

His lips moved against yours with a new kind of urgency, a quiet hunger that wasn’t just about teasing anymore - it was about you. About this moment. About finally letting himself want you the way he had been holding back from all night.

Jiung, who had spent the entire night pushing you to the edge, was now fully lost in you too. You felt it. In the way his fingers curled into your waist, in the way his body pressed against yours, in the way his breath hitched slightly when your nails digged into his back, pulling him closer.

The playful remarks - they were gone now, replaced by something deeper, more raw. Because this wasn’t just about testing boundaries anymore. This was about crossing them together.

His forehead rested against yours for a moment as he caught his breath, his fingers still tracing slow, absentminded patterns against your skin, like he needed to memorize the feeling of you beneath him.

When he finally pulled back enough to look at you, his expression had changed.

"You’re really letting me have you like this," he murmured, his voice lower now, softer, almost as if he was still processing it himself.

You moaned softly, nodding. "I am."

Jiung exhaled, his fingers tightening slightly against your skin before he leaned down again, this time, pressing a kiss that was slow, deep, meaningful.

Not just teasing.

Not just desire.

But something more.

And neither of you ever wanted it to end.

Jiung could feel you getting closer, how your body tightening around him. He knew you were on the edge, and he was determined to send you over. With a final, deep thrust, he whispered your name against your ear. Your eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, your body arching off the couch. A soft moan escaped your lips, barely audible, yet electrifying. The sensation was like nothing you had ever felt before.

Jiung watched you carefully, his own release following quickly, as his thrusts slowed down and became more sloppy. With a raspy, whimpered moan, his orgasm finally washed over him. His body trembled above you, as he buried his face in your neck.

The room was quiet now, the only sounds filling the space were the soft, uneven breaths you and Jiung shared. The tension that had been so thick between you all night had finally unraveled, leaving nothing but the warmth of him against you.

Jiung collapsed on top of you, his body heavy yet comforting, his chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. His head rested against your chest, his damp hair tickling your skin, his warmth completely surrounding you.

You exhaled slowly, your fingers gliding gently down his back, tracing the lines of his shoulder blades, feeling the way his muscles relaxed under your touch. His skin was warm, slightly damp from the heat between you, and you could feel the way his heartbeat slowly began to steady against yours.

Neither of you spoke.

There was no need to.

Jiung let out a soft sigh against your skin, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns along your waist. You wondered what he was thinking, if he was feeling the same overwhelming mix of emotions crashing into you all at once.

You stayed like that for a little while, wrapped up in the warmth of each other, neither of you in a hurry to move, to break the fragile moment that had settled between you.

But eventually, Jiung stirred.

He lifted his head, his dark eyes meeting yours, something soft, unreadable flickering behind them.

His arms tensed slightly as he pulled himself up, his hands resting beside your body, caging you in without feeling overpowering. He studied your face for a moment, his lips slightly parted, like he wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how.

And for the first time tonight, he looked hesitant.

You weren’t used to seeing Jiung like this - the ever-confident, ever-teasing Jiung now looking at you with something uncertain, almost vulnerable in his gaze. As he hovered over you, his arms still bracing him on either side of your body, his dark eyes locked onto yours. There was something different in his gaze now - softer, yet just as intense as before.

Then, after a beat of silence, his lips curled into a slow smirk.

"That was amazing," he murmured, his voice low and slightly breathless. His eyes scanned your face, taking in every little detail - your flushed cheeks, your dazed expression, the way you were still trying to catch your breath.

His smirk deepened.

"You looked really good just now," he added, his tone so effortlessly teasing that it made heat rise to your face all over again.

Your stomach flipped, and you immediately covered your face with your hands, groaning. "Jiung, stop."

He laughed, the sound soft yet filled with amusement. "What? It’s true," he said, nudging your hands away so he could see you again. His fingers lightly traced your wrist, his touch still gentle, still lingering. "You should’ve seen yourself."

You could barely handle the way he was looking at you. Smug, teasing, but still incredibly fond.

"Jiung-" you tried to protest, but he was relentless.

He leaned down, his bare chest pressing against yours, his lips ghosting over your ear.

"Shy now?" he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "You weren’t so shy a few minutes ago."

Your entire body burned at his words.

"You’re insufferable," you muttered, attempting to turn your head away. But Jiung only grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before pulling back just enough to see your reaction.

"Maybe," he mused, tilting his head, his fingers now tracing lazy circles on your waist. "But you like that about me, don’t you?"

Your heart skipped a beat.

And the worst part?

You did.

But there was no way you were going to admit that out loud.

So instead, you huffed, looking away. "I liked you better when you weren’t talking."

Jiung chuckled. "Liar."

His hands skimmed up your sides, slow and deliberate, sending another shiver through you. Your breath hitched - a small reaction, but one Jiung caught immediately.

His smirk widened.

"Oh?" he teased, watching you closely. "Do you want me to stop talking then? Or do you want me to-"

"Jiung!" you cut him off, your voice higher than you intended.

He laughed again, the warmth in his expression making it impossible to be mad at him.

Jiung leaned down one more time, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your forehead before pulling back.

"Relax," he murmured, his tone finally softening. "I’m just messing with you."

You exhaled slowly, your heart still pounding, your emotions still all over the place. Jiung was back to teasing you like nothing had changed - but something had. His gaze flickered over your face, thoughtful, before he spoke again.

"So…" he murmured, voice low, teasing but curious. "How do you like the idea of intimacy without commitment?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. Jiung didn’t look away, his fingers lazily tracing over your waist, waiting for your answer. You took a moment to think.

After everything that had happened tonight - the teasing, the tension, the way he had pushed your boundaries yet still made you feel completely safe - you realized… You liked this. You liked him. And maybe, just maybe, you could get used to this.

A small smile tugged at your lips as you exhaled slowly. "I think… I could do this more often."

Jiung’s smirk widened.

"Really?" he mused, tilting his head slightly. His fingers pressed into your waist just a little more, his touch still slow and deliberate.

You nodded, watching his reaction carefully.

Jiung let out a low chuckle, his gaze darkening slightly. "Good," he murmured. "Because I’d be down for it too."

You giggled, unable to help the warmth that spread through you at his words. He smirked, clearly enjoying how flustered you were, before grabbing your wrists and pinning them down for a second, just to tease you more.

"Am I making you shy again?" he grinned, hovering closer.

"Maybe," you muttered, biting back a smile.

Jiung just chuckled, releasing your hands, his fingers lightly brushing over your wrist before finally pulling away. Then, after a moment of silence, he spoke again, this time, his voice softer, more curious.

"What do you think about me staying over tonight?"

Your breath hitched.

"You want to?" you asked, searching his face for any hint of hesitation.

Jiung’s lips curled into a lazy, knowing smile as he leaned back down, his mouth barely an inch from yours.

"I mean… the night’s still young," he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. Then, with pure confidence, he added, "and we were just getting started."

Jiung’s words hung in the air between you, thick with meaning, his smirk never faltering as he watched your reaction. Your stomach flipped, your fingers still curled slightly against his arms, your body responding before your mind could even catch up.

You should have hesitated. Should have questioned what this meant, what you were getting yourself into. But the way Jiung was looking at you, his dark eyes filled with amusement, his bare chest still lightly pressed against yours, his breath warm against your lips, it was impossible to think about anything else.

So instead, you exhaled, a small smile pulling at your lips.

"Then stay," you whispered.

Jiung’s smirk widened.

"Yeah?" he teased, watching you carefully. "You sure?"

You nodded, your voice more certain this time. "I want you to."

His gaze flickered, something unreadable flashing behind his eyes before he leaned down again, kissing you slowly, deeply, like he had been waiting for you to say that. His hands slid down your sides again, reclaiming the space between you, his touch both teasing and deliberate.

"You’re gonna have to keep up with me, then," he murmured between kisses, his tone light but challenging, his smirk pressing against your lips.

You giggled softly, your fingers tracing over his shoulders. "Oh? Think I can’t handle you?"

Jiung chuckled, shaking his head. "I just know how easy it is to make you fall apart beneath me."

Your face burned, and Jiung grinned when he noticed.

"You’re doing it again," he teased, tapping your chin lightly, his expression smug.

"Doing what?" you muttered, looking away.

Jiung tilted your chin back toward him, his thumb brushing over your jawline.

"Looking at me like you want me to ruin you."

You gasped, shoving at his chest, but he just laughed, his head tilting back slightly in amusement.

"You’re impossible," you mumbled, biting back a smile.

"And yet, you’re still letting me stay," Jiung mused, trailing soft, lazy kisses along your jaw, his touch slow, unhurried, like he wanted to take his time with you all over again.

Your fingers curled into his hair, pulling him closer, your heartbeat pounding against his.

And in that moment, with Jiung hovering over you, his hands exploring your skin like he had all the time in the world, you realized…

The night really was just getting started.

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dix0nspretty · 4 months ago

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Running Late

Summary: König can't keep his hands to himself, even when you're trying to rush a shower so you won't be late for a meeting on base.

König x GN!Reader, 791 words

Era: N/A

TW: Shower sex, men not listening, slight objectification of reader.

Obligatory tag for @machveil, the König person on Tumblr.

Day 12 of my bastardized version of Russian Roulette Febuwhump/Kinktober for March that I'm affectionately calling Trinket's Cause of Death. It's basically 50/50 whump/kink where I generate a number corresponding to a prompt.

Day 12: Shower play with König.

When you first started seeing König, the expectation was of a relationship that was more so emotional intimacy than physical. König is an incredibly shy man who stumbles over the few words he’ll speak with an awkwardness only he could pull off and a bright blush under that hood to boot.

It took the massive man weeks to do anything other than stare at you when he spotted you out and about on base, pushed into it only once you approached to ream his ass for being a creep and receiving a blurted request for a date before you could even begin. König’s size screams of a physicality that could fold you in half with ease, but his personality is that of a shy puppy. You never expected him to be one for physical touch.

That couldn’t have been further from the truth.

Any and all chances he has to have contact with you, he takes. Cuddling in bed is a must-have. Sitting anywhere is only bearable if you’re perched in his lap. If you’re trying to do anything in either of your quarters or in the common room, he’s glued to your side or your back, cornering you against kitchen counters and washing machines. He keeps it clean… for the most part.

It’s a good thing he’s your superior officer or the amount of indecent exposure complaints could at best earn you a ‘barracks bunny’ title or at worst get you court martialed and potentially dishonorably discharged. König being König prevents each of these scenarios with unnerving silent staring or snapping in a mix of English and German for the room to be evacuated of people or to not interrupt as he drags you off, rock-hard in his pants and blushing furiously under his hood.

This isn’t limited to public locations either, of course.

“König-”

The whine fills the steamy air of the bathroom, thick and warm with the hot water bearing down on your back. The glass of the shower door is cold and damp on your chest and cheek, the entire of your front pinned between the fragile door and the mass of man currently plowing into you with sharp thrusts.

“Shhhh Schatz,” König grunts into your ear with a particularly sharp thrust that has you up on your tiptoes and seeing dots in your eyes. “Feels good, ja? Nice and warm.”

Another cry from your lips, waterlogged hands trying to brace against the glass with no luck. It wouldn’t do you any good either way, not with König’s arm holding you up and bent at the perfect angle for him to hit as deep as possible. “K- Ko.”

“I know,” He’s panting your ear like the filthy dog he is, using your body like a toy with how easily he manipulates- pushing and pulling and angling like you’re a doll and not a person. “You will not be late for your meeting, liebling.”

You’d already told König not to get into the shower with you. There was a meeting amongst operators of your level, and you needed to shower without distraction, so you told him to sit outside of the shower so he could get at least partial attention. Even gave him permission to jack off while you shower, but it still wasn’t good enough. The moment you started to lather up he was naked and splitting you open.

Of course the needy bastard couldn’t let you get a short shower in without feeling you closing around him, nice and tight and warm. God forbid he have to fist his cock when he could bury it somewhere much more forgiving and lenient. “Am almost done.”

He doesn’t bother asking you if you’re close, not when your body is spasming and orgasming around him with a cry of ecstasy. Blunt nails scrape at the arm locked around your waist and the dull pain is all it takes to have him blowing his load deep with a whimper and a harsh bite to your shoulder. König fucks you both through it until there’s matching tear tracks of overstimulation down your face.

Just as quick as he got in, you’re suddenly alone in the shower, balanced on unsteady legs and trying to recover your brain cells as he casually redresses and fixes his hood.

“Get a move on Schatz,” he calls almost teasingly and drapes your towel over the top of the shower door. “Would not want to be punished for being late, Hm? Bad look for superiors.”

Needless to say, you show up late to the meeting and still leaking König’s cum down your legs. He gets the joy of being the one to tell you off for your tardiness.

Maybe König needs to spend some time collared tonight.

#konig smut #trinket's cause of death #mdni #dix0nspretty fics #konig x reader #konig cod #konig #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #cod x reader #TCoD

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yungistiny · 28 days ago

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camgirl ═ chapter thirteen

[ S. Mingi ]

chapter thirteen: home

╚═════════

summary: mingi just really needs some cash and he was told all he had to do was hold a camera. simple enough. he just didn’t anticipate the type of content he’d be helping to create

warning: emo mingi, stoner mingi, switch mingi, switch reader, mingi is hung, creampie, unprotected sex, choking, spanking, masturbation, rough sex, degradation, size kink, spitting, deep throating, edging, overstimulation, possessive mingi/reader

pairing: mingi x afab/reader

genre: smut, angst, drama, romance

word count: 7.4k

chapter twelve

chapter fourteen coming soon

masterlist

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The stream had barely been live for three minutes and Y/N was already a mess.

The camera framed them perfectly, Mingi on his knees, strong thighs spread wide, that same dark glint in his eyes as he held her body folded, bent in half, wrists pinned down, her legs pushed up to her chest, everything on display. His hair a little longer now, still bleached blonde but his dark roots were prominent.

Her first orgasm had hit hard. He didn’t even stop. Just kept going, slow and deep at first, taunting the viewers with how easily she shattered, then rougher, harder, until she was choking on moans that sounded just a little too real.

“Fuck…” she whimpered, eyes rolling back as he hit that same spot over and over again. “Yeah?” Mingi’s voice was a low rumble. “That what you needed?” She couldn’t answer. Could barely breathe.

So he pulled out. Slow. Deliberate.

And then slammed back in.

Y/N sobbed out a moan as Mingi’s hand wrapped around her throat, not with her third orgasm already dripping down her thighs, not with the camera catching every slick, wet sound of him stretching her open like it was the first time all over again.

Mingi leaned down, lips brushing her ear. “Tell them who you belong to.” Y/N whimpered, “You…. Mingi, I can’t….” She felt breathless, exhausted but still wanted more.

“Try again,” he growled, giving a punishing thrust that made her whole body jolt. “Or I’ll give them a fourth one.”

She sobbed. “Yours! I’m yours…. just yours”

He kissed her, open mouthed and messy, lips swallowing her cries as he chased another high. When he himself came for the second time, he moaned her name like it was holy, dick pulsing deep inside her as she convulsed around him, twitching through another orgasm. Her legs were shaking. Her voice gone.

He didn’t pull out. Just pulled her body up into his lap, cradling her, spreading her legs wide so the camera drinks in the sight, his cum dripping out of her, all over his thighs, slick and obscene. Y/N was shaking in his arms, completely wrecked, trying to form words but too overwhelmed. Mingi smoothed her hair back, his lips brushing her temple.

And then he looked directly into the camera. “Say thank you.” Y/N blinked through dazed eyes, utterly fucked out. “Th…. thank you.” She slurred, breath hitching, face flushed and slick.

Mingi smirked, satisfied. “That’s my girl.”

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The market was busy but calm in the end of fall, bathed in dark clouds. The kind of fall weather where people linger longer in front of stalls, fingers brushing handmade soaps and street vendor snacks as that slight chill nipped at their noses.

Y/N was holding a pair of statement earrings up to her ears while Wooyoung weighed in like a personal stylist who was paid in gossip and sarcasm. “I’m just saying,” he sipped his iced latte, “they scream, I’m a bad bitch with a secret and a lawyer on retainer. Which… accurate.”

Y/N grinned, holding the earrings up again for a better look. But something in her stomach shifted. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She didn’t even have to turn around. She knew. And when she did glance across the street?

There she was.

Nari.

Leaning against a brick planter, phone in hand, she looked over just in time to see Y/N and paused. Their eyes locked.

Y/N remembered the way Mingi’s mom brought up Nari telling her they stream. Nothing into detail about what they stream but still trying to make Mingi’s mom hate Y/N more than she already does.

Y/N’s lip curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Woo?”

“Oh god,” Wooyoung said immediately, not even looking up. “Do not say what I think you’re about to say. You have that tone in your voice. That petty one.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Wooyoung sighed like he’d just been told the season finale to his favorite show was being delayed. “I didn’t stretch for a showdown, babe.” He groaned while following her.

Nari blinked as Y/N approached, posture tightening. She tried to mask it with a polite smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Y/N. Wow. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Y/N tilted her head, mock surprise in her tone. “Funny, neither did I.”

Nari glanced away, faux casual. “You still with Mingi?”

Y/N smiled sweetly. “Every night. And once this morning on my kitchen island.” She smirked. “He let our toast burn.”

Wooyoung made a choking sound from a safe but clearly entertained distance.

Nari shrugged, still trying to play as if Y/N words weren’t a slap to the face. “His mom seemed curious about you last time we talked. She didn’t seem to know about your… online stuff so I told her she should ask the two of you.”

Y/N’s brows lifted, tone light and sugary. “You mean the online stuff where my boyfriend gives me the best sex I’ve ever had?”

Nari smug little smile dropped. “Yeah.”

Y/N leaned in just a little, smile sharpened like glass in sunlight. “You know… you’re the only one who got to experience it first hand.”

Nari froze for half a second. The memory of seeing Mingi holding Y/N up against the wall in his family’s restaurant break room while he fucked her like his life depended on it lingered like a sour taste in her mouth.

“If you think his mother is ever going to let you be more than a taste, then you’re crazy. She’d never let her son be with an internet slut.”

“Oh?” Y/N leaned in close, too close, Wooyoung stepping forward slightly in case he needed to pull her back. “I thought it was pornstar? That’s what you told Mingi, right? Yeah. He tells me everything.”

Nari clenched her jaw as Y/N stepped back, smug. “You can meddle all you want but at the end of the day, he comes home to me. He fucks me. He wants me. He loves me.”

Nari’s mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“Anyway,” Y/N chirped brightly, turning to Wooyoung. “Tell his mom I said, Hi, next time.” She turned and walked away, her hips swinging like punctuation marks, the scent of her perfume lingering like victory.

Wooyoung squealed. “I don’t even need popcorn. I’m full off that meal. Bitch, chef’s kiss. We’re putting that on a tote bag.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The front door shut behind them with a soft click, the weight of the day and too many shopping bags clinking faintly in the silence of Y/N house.

Wooyoung kicked off his sneakers with flair and collapsed dramatically onto the couch, fanning himself with one of the receipts. “I’ve been emotionally abused by your fashion stamina,” he groaned. “And your petty streak. That Nari takedown? Iconic.”

Y/N smirked as she set her purse down on the kitchen counter, tugging her sunglasses off with a satisfied little shrug as the sound of water running from upstairs floated down steady, hot, intentional. Mingi. The shower had been going since they walked in. Neither of them had called out to him. Neither needed to.

Y/N smile faded just slightly, and she leaned against the edge of the counter, picking at a hangnail with her thumb.

Wooyoung caught the shift immediately. “Okay. What’s going on?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, her eyes drifted to the ceiling again, then back to her hands. “Hyun knows.”

Wooyoung blinked. “Knows…?”

“About the streams.” Her voice was quiet. “He saw us in Busan. Followed us into a shop. Waited until Mingi noticed him. Then he started in.”

Wooyoung’s jaw dropped. “Are you kidding me? He really stepped up to him again after getting his ass beat?”

“I wish.” She shook her head. “He was all smug about it. Said he’d tell my dad. Said he was keeping it in his back pocket. Like he was waiting for the right moment to make it explode.”

Wooyoung’s expression darkened, something sharp flickering in his eyes. “And Mingi knows?”

“Yeah. He was there. He didn’t even flinch when Hyun said it. Just told him if he so much as breathed near me again, he’d finish what he started.”

Wooyoung let out a slow whistle, eyebrows raised. “So that’s why he’s been quiet.”

She nodded.

“He’s not sulking,” she added. “He’s… planning. He’s mad in that terrifying way where he looks calm, but you can feel it. Like he’s already decided what he’s gonna do if Hyun makes a move.”

Wooyoung pressed a hand over his chest. “I know that Mingi. That’s bury the body in the backyard with a shovel he spray painted black energy. Only saw it once, when San ex boyfriend cheated on him.”

Y/N smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I don’t think he’s scared of being exposed. He’s scared of what I’ll lose. My dad, his trust, his pride. My relationship with my family.”

“And yourself,” Wooyoung said gently.

Y/N glanced up at him, throat tight. “Yeah. That too.”

Upstairs, the water finally stopped. Silence followed, then footsteps.

Wooyoung reached out and squeezed her hand. “You’ve got us. All of us. Me. Mingi. Hell, even San would probably crush Hyun like a soda can if he had the chance.”

Y/N huffed a quiet laugh. “You think my dad would forgive me if he found out?”

Wooyoung gave her a look. “Y/N. You’ve been through hell and back and still managed to become this version of you, brilliant, kind, sexy as fuck, and just a little bit scary when you’re pissed. You don’t owe anyone shame.”

The bedroom door creaked open above.

Y/N swallowed, eyes flicking toward the stairs. “He’s gonna ask me soon. About what I want to do. About Hyun.”

Wooyoung’s voice turned serious. “And what do you want to do?”

Y/N’s answer was simple.

“Whatever keeps Mingi safe.”

And Wooyoung, for once, didn’t have anything clever to say. He just nodded, silent and fierce. Like a friend who knew a storm was coming, and planned to stand right beside her in the rain.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The mirror was still fogged up when Mingi stepped out of the shower, steam curling around his shoulders, water dripping in lazy trails down his skin. His muscles ached in that satisfying way, worked out, wrung out, and now warm from the heat. A towel hung low around his hips, damp hair pushed back from his forehead with his fingers.

He padded barefoot into Y/N bedroom, rubbing his hand along the back of his neck as he wandered toward the chair where he’d dropped his bag earlier.

The room was still.

Sunlight slipped through the blinds, catching on her perfume bottles and the stack of folded laundry at the foot of the bed. Her pillow was dented in the middle, her sweater from yesterday tossed across the headboard like she’d left in a hurry. It smelled like her in here. Vanilla and something faintly sharp, like citrus and ink and mischief. His favorite scent in the world.

Mingi knelt by the chair, digging through his bag one-handed, muttering under his breath. “Where the hell is my…” He froze when the bedroom door creaked open behind him. “shirt…”

He turned just in time to see her walk in, fingers still brushing stray cat hair off her leggings, eyes widening a little when she spotted him, shirtless, wet, bent over with his back to the door.

Mingi straightened up, caught, towel still clutched low on his hips. His expression flickered from surprised to soft in an instant. “I didn’t know you got home.”

They just looked at each other for a beat.

Her hair was tucked behind one ear, the soft domesticity of her, no makeup, shirt off one shoulder, bare feet hit him hard. God, he’d missed her. Even if it had only been hours. Even if she’d been shopping with Wooyoung and texting him the whole time. Being near her always felt better than being away from her.

“Wooyoung just left,” she added, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her with a quiet click. “I told him.”

Mingi raised a brow. “About?”

“Everything.” She hesitated. “But mostly… Hyun.”

Ah.

He nodded slowly, running a hand through his damp hair again, towel shifting dangerously low as he dropped his eyes to the floor. “I figured you’d tell him.”

“Didn’t know how to. Until today.” She crossed the room slowly, coming to lean against the dresser beside him. Her eyes flicked down his body, lips twitching. “You’re dripping all over my floor.”

“You’re dripping all over my mind,” he teased back, deadpan. Y/N laughed, and the sound untied something tight in his chest.

She reached for a folded shirt on top of the dresser, one of his, and tossed it at his chest. “Here. Before my cat comes in and gets ideas.”

Mingi caught it, but didn’t put it on right away.

Instead, he stepped closer, the space between them shrinking. “He won’t tell your dad, you know.”

Y/N looked up, lips parting.

“I don’t think he wants a war. He just wants to feel like he’s holding something over you.” Mingi’s voice was steady, careful, hoping he was right. “But if he does… I’ll be there. You won’t face it alone.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “That’s what worries me.”

He reached for her hand, fingers threading through hers like it was instinct. “You’re not a weapon, Y/N. He doesn’t get to use you like one.”

She pressed her forehead to his chest, breath warm against his skin. “I hate that he knows. I hate that I’m scared.” Mingi’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her fully against him, the towel dampening her clothes, but she didn’t care. “Then let me be the one who’s not. Let me take care of you.”

Her fingers curled against his back, just over the bruises he never let anyone else see. “He knows what we do, Mingi.”

“I know.” His voice was firm. “But only we know why we do it.”

She looked up, eyes shiny. “And why’s that?”

Mingi leaned down, pressing his mouth to hers with a quiet sigh. “Because it turns you on… and it makes me feel like I’m the only person in the world who gets to ruin you.”

Y/N bit her bottom lip, laughing softly despite herself.

“Also,” he added against her skin, “it’s hot.”

She swatted his shoulder. “You’re such a menace.”

“You love it.”

“I really do.”

Mingi kissed her again, slower this time. Deeper. With the kind of kiss that promised safety and destruction in equal measure.

“Mingi.”

He blinked, lips brushing hers. “Yeah?”

“Don’t move.”

Before he could ask anything, she stepped back, just a little. Her fingers trailed down the center of his abdomen, slow, deliberate, until they hooked into the top edge of his towel.

“Y/N…” His breath hitched as the soft fabric dropped to the floor without a sound, baring him completely. He swore under his breath, pulse skipping.

And she sank to her knees.

Right there on the carpeted floor in front of him. The sight alone nearly undid him, her, kneeling, eyes heavy with purpose. It wasn’t just lust. It was possession.

“I hate that anyone thinks they can take something from me,” she said, voice low, sultry, but laced with a fire that made his knees weak. “You’re mine.”

“Y/N…” He barely got her name out before she took him in her hand, firm and unhesitating. His head dropped back with a choked off groan, every nerve in his body lighting up. “Shit.”

She didn’t tease. Didn’t go slow. She devoured. Her mouth wrapped around the flushed head of him, tongue swirling before she took him deeper, inch by inch until her nose was brushing his lower abdomen. His hands twitched at his sides, every muscle in his body pulling tight. He was already hard when she walked in. Now he was painfully so, and she was sucking him like she was starving.

“Fuck, baby…” His voice cracked, hand flying to her hair, gripping tight when she moaned around him.

That sound, God, that sound, shot straight through him. He could feel himself pulsing on her tongue, could see her eyes locked onto his like she dared him to look away.

He never would.

He watched her head move, watched his dick disappear between her lips again and again, her spit slicking him up, dripping down her chin, his thighs already trembling. She pulled back slowly, letting him fall from her mouth with a loud pop, only to lick a long stripe up the underside of his shaft like she owned him.

And she did. She fucking did.

“You should see yourself,” she purred, kissing the tip. “So desperate. So pretty when you’re about to break.”

“God, Y/N…” He was panting, sweating, wrecked. “You’re gonna make me…”

“Do it,” she said, eyes blazing as she took him again, bobbing her head faster now, determined. And he did. Mingi came hard, deep in her mouth with a growl so guttural it didn’t even sound human. His entire body seized, muscles tensed, legs nearly buckling as he held onto her for balance. She didn’t stop. Not until she had every last drop. Not until he was moaning, trembling, whispering her name like a prayer.

When she finally pulled back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Mingi was still reeling, his chest heaving. She stood, slow and steady, and leaned in close to whisper against his cheek.

“No one is taking you from me.”

Mingi caught her by the waist and kissed her like she was the only oxygen left on earth. Because she was. Because she’d just claimed him like no one else ever had.

And he’d never felt more hers.

He didn’t let her pull away.

The second she whispered that threat, “No one is taking you from me”, something in him snapped. Not in fear. Not in panic.

In need.

He caught her waist in one swift motion and kissed her deep, open mouthed, like he was trying to crawl inside her soul. The taste of himself still lingered faintly on her tongue and it only made him groan louder, harder, pressing his body into hers like it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough.

“You’re not the only possessive one,” he rasped against her lips. Then his hands were on her everywhere, tugging her shirt off, not even bothering to unbutton it, just tore it open, buttons flying. His mouth followed immediately, down her neck, over the swell of her breasts, nipping at soft skin until she gasped.

She barely had time to breathe before her leggings were halfway down her thighs and Mingi was scooping her into his arms, dragging her onto the bed with him.

“Lay back,” he growled. “Wanna see all of you.”

She didn’t hesitate. She never did with him. Y/N let him guide her back onto the sheets, hair splayed, chest rising and falling fast as he knelt between her legs like he was about to pray.

Because he was.

He looked at her like she was something holy. Something he didn’t deserve but would worship anyway. His hands slid up the inside of her thighs, spreading her slowly, reverently, like he was opening a gift meant only for him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, eyes drinking her in. “Look at you.” He leaned down, kissing the inside of her knee. Then the other. Then a trail up her inner thighs, slow and dragging, like he wanted to memorize every inch of skin with his mouth.

And when he reached her center, he didn’t hesitate. That first swipe of his tongue had her hips jumping, her moan breaking sharp and needy through the quiet room.

He groaned like a man starved.

Mingi’s pierced tongue swiped the seam of her folds, slow and purposeful, his mouth latching onto her clit as he sucked her in. The cool flick of his piercing against that sensitive bundle of nerves made her jerk beneath him, a cry tumbling from her lips.

“Mingi…” she gasped, her hands flying to his hair. “That’s right,” he mumbled, lips sticky and swollen. “Say my name. Let me hear you.”

And then he dove back in. He licked her like it was his job. No, like it was his passion. Long, languid strokes followed by quick flicks of his tongue, his piercing dragging over her just right. He alternated pressure, adjusted rhythm, every move perfectly tuned to her writhing beneath him.

“Shit… right there…” she choked out, and Mingi doubled down. He slid two fingers into her while his tongue circled and flicked. Her walls clenched tight, wet and perfect around him, and he moaned against her, sending vibrations straight through her core.

He didn’t stop.

Not when her legs locked around his shoulders.

Not when her back arched clear off the bed.

Not even when she came the first time with a cry so loud it echoed down the hallway.

Because he wasn’t done.

Her thighs trembled, her body slick with sweat, and Mingi just kept licking. Kept teasing. Kept devouring.

“That’s one,” he murmured darkly. “Give me another.”

Her body jolted like a live wire.

And God help her… she did.

She was still shaking.

Her breath came in short, broken pants, eyes fluttering half shut as her thighs trembled around his shoulders. But Mingi didn’t stop, not yet. He wasn’t done tasting her, not by a long shot.

He licked her clean with slow, deliberate strokes, tongue dragging through her mess like he was savoring the aftershocks. His tongue piercing flicked gently over her overstimulated clit, not enough to push her into another orgasm, but enough to make her twitch, to make her gasp, to keep her on that dizzying edge.

“Shhh,” he whispered, lips brushing against sensitive skin. “I’ve got you. Let me take care of you.”

And he did.

He kissed the inside of her thigh like an apology. Like a promise. Then another, higher. His mouth moved up her body, slow and worshipful. A trail of open mouthed kisses up her stomach. A gentle scrape of teeth over her ribcage. His tongue traced her sternum, then dipped between the valley of her breasts as he climbed up over her, one hand braced beside her head.

By the time he reached her neck, she was clinging to him, still breathless, eyes glazed and dazed and so fucking beautiful.

“Hi,” he whispered with a crooked grin, his lips ghosting over hers.

She let out a breathless laugh, but it melted into a moan as he kissed her, slow and filthy. She could taste herself on his tongue, taste the hunger he still hadn’t sated. He swallowed her gasp when he slotted his hips against hers, his dick thick and hard and nudging at her entrance.

Her nails dug into his back. “Mingi…”

“You feel that?” he growled softly against her mouth. “That’s what you do to me. What you always do to me. Only you do to me.”

And then he pushed in. So slow. So deep. Every inch of him a perfect stretch until he was fully seated, buried inside her, their bodies locked together like they were made for this, for each other.

Mingi groaned, head dropping to her shoulder. “Fuck… you’re always so tight.” Her walls fluttered around him and he felt it, her gasp, her heartbeat, her everything, wrapped around his dick like heaven on earth. He didn’t move at first. Just stayed there, letting her adjust, letting the moment stretch.

Then he kissed her again, tongue hot and dirty, hand sliding up her side until he was cradling her face.

“Tell me I’m yours again,” he rasped, voice rough with need. “Say it.”

“You’re mine,” she whispered, eyes locked on his.

Mingi’s hips rolled slow and deep, pulling a shattered moan from her throat. He growled, thrusting again, this time a little harder. “And you’re mine.”

And she was. God, she was.

Her legs wrapped tighter around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back as he thrusted deep, so deep, like he was trying to live inside her. Mingi was gone, completely, hopelessly gone.

His fingers were laced with hers, both of their hands pinned above her head, her wrists pressed into the pillows as his body bore down over hers. The tension was molten between them, sweat slick skin and tangled limbs, breath mingling, mouths grazing between moans and curses and I love yous.

She was close again, he felt it in the way she clenched around him, in the fluttering whimpers against his jaw, in the way her thighs trembled against his hips.

“Come for me,” he groaned, hips stuttering just enough to make her gasp. “Fuck, baby, just like that, show me you’re mine.”

That word, mine, ripped something wild and primal loose inside him.

Mingi didn’t even realize the way his thoughts unraveled, the way something darker and more possessive coiled in his gut as her walls fluttered, fluttered, then squeezed. He hissed through his teeth, helpless to stop the way his hips snapped into her again, and again, and again.

He wanted to see her wrecked like this. Over and over. Filled and shaking and so goddamn full of him.

“You’re mine,” he panted against her neck, voice wrecked. “Gonna fill you up, baby… I wanna see you dripping. Wanna see you leaking me down your thighs so everyone fucking knows.”

Y/N moaned something sinful, something slurred and shaky and perfect, her back arching, her hands tightening in his. “Mingi…. Mingi, I’m…”

“I’ve got you,” he grunted. “Come for me. I want it, give it to me, come on….fuck”

And she did. Her entire body went taut beneath him, the sweetest cry tearing from her lips as her orgasm crashed through her, her walls pulsing around him like they were begging him to stay, to sink deeper and never stop.

Mingi saw stars. His rhythm stuttered, broke completely. One more thrust, and he was coming hard, groaning her name, burying himself as deep as he could go, spilling everything inside her.

He didn’t pull out.

Couldn’t.

Wouldn’t.

Because goddamn it, that possessiveness had its claws in him now, he needed her full. Needed her to keep it.

They stayed tangled like that, hands still laced, bodies still locked, the sound of their panting the only thing in the room for a long moment. Sweat damp skin. The faint hum of the shower still cooling in the pipes. The softest light through the curtains.

And then Mingi giggled.

It slipped out before he could stop it, muffled against the side of her neck where his lips still rested, where her pulse still fluttered beneath his mouth.

“All this time,” he murmured, breathless, lips dragging across her skin. “All this time and I still haven’t taken you on a real date.”

Y/N let out a hoarse, incredulous laugh. “What?”

Mingi leaned back just enough to grin down at her, flushed and messy and boyish in that way that made her heart flip. “I’m serious.”

“We just fucked like animals, and now you wanna wine and dine me?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, brushing sweaty hair from her face. “I think I wanna do both. Maybe at the same time.”

She laughed again, chest still rising and falling, completely undone beneath him. “You’re insane.”

“I’m yours,” he corrected softly, kissing the tip of her nose. “And that means I get to take you to dinner and ruin you after. Or you ruin me. Whichever you prefer.”

She kissed him lazily, arms curling around his neck. “Okay,” she whispered. “But I’m picking the restaurant.”

“Deal.” He smiled, finally collapsing beside her, their fingers still tangled.

And he meant it.

Because she wasn’t just his girl.

She was everything.

And it was about time the whole world knew it.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Mingi was half dressed, standing in nothing but a pair of black jeans and mismatched socks, head buried in his closet like it held all the answers to life, love, and what the hell to wear on your first real date with the girl you’ve been sleeping with, living with, and hopelessly in love with.

Clothes were scattered everywhere, shirts flung over the bed, jackets on the floor, a pair of sneakers dangerously close to the pizza box from Mingi has no idea when.

“Are you fighting the closet or trying to seduce it?” San’s voice came from the doorway, all amused sass and arms crossed over his chest.

Mingi glanced over his shoulder, shirtless, hair still a little damp from his shower back at Y/N. “Neither. I’m trying to look dateable without looking like I’m trying to look dateable.”

“So…” San walked in, flopping down dramatically on Mingi’s bed, narrowly avoiding a denim jacket. “You’re dressing for someone who already lets you raw her on camera, live with her, drive her car and eats her snacks.”

Mingi rolled his eyes. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re whipped.”

“I am not.”

“Bro,” San gestured at the chaotic mess around them. “You’ve been living over there for how long now? You even remember what our shower looks like? Gladiolus probably thinks you’re his other parent.”

Mingi snorted, finally tugging a fitted black button up off a hanger and holding it up to himself with a little squint. “So?”

“So…” San leaned back on his elbows. “Are you, like… moving in with her?“

Mingi paused.

He hadn’t really thought about it like that.

But maybe he had. Maybe he did every time he folded her laundry with his in the dryer. Every time he called her dad or her real mom back because she was busy. Every time he cooked dinner like it was already their kitchen. Every time he woke up with her tucked under his arm and thought, Yeah. This is it.

He looked at San, expression softer now, more thoughtful. “I don’t know,” he admitted, buttoning the shirt halfway. “It doesn’t feel like moving in. It just… feels right. Like I’m where I’m supposed to be.”

San didn’t roll his eyes this time. He just nodded, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah. I get it.”

Mingi looked down at the shirt, smoothing it over his chest. “You think this makes me look like I’m trying too hard?”

“You look like a man who’s about to ask for her hand and ask if you can eat her out under the table.”

Mingi beamed. “Perfect.”

San groaned. “Jesus Christ.”

But he was smiling, and Mingi knew, he had his best friend’s full support.

And tonight? He was going to take his girl on a date.

Maybe not to the fanciest place.

Maybe not a traditional start.

But it was their beginning.

And Mingi? He was all in.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Y/N smoothed the front of her dress as she stepped out of the car, her heart doing that stupid fluttery thing it still hadn’t stopped doing around Mingi. And sure, they’d had dinner together before, shared takeout cartons, midnight snacks in bed, burgers while half naked post stream, but this was different.

This was a date.

The kind where she wore actual lipstick, and he showed up with flowers from a street vendor, awkwardly held behind his back like he didn’t already spend every night falling asleep with his face buried in her thighs.

And god, he looked good.

Mingi, in a black button up tucked into slacks that hugged his waist too perfectly, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He still had his chain on, and the way his eyes lit up when he saw her?

Like she was brand new again.

“Hi,” he said softly, like it was the first time. Like they hadn’t been tangled together just this morning. Like he didn’t just drive them to the restaurant in her car.

“Hi,” she echoed, smiling as he took her hand and linked their fingers together.

The restaurant was tucked away in a quiet alley downtown, not too fancy but warm and intimate, exposed brick, low lights, a soft jazz trio in the corner. No one looked twice at Mingi or the way his hand stayed on Y/N lower back as they walked in. It wasn’t about showing off, it was about being there. Together.

“You nervous?” Y/N asked once they were seated in a cozy booth near the window.

Mingi chuckled, pouring her water before his. “We’ve had sex on camera in five different rooms of your house. What’s nerve wracking about dinner?”

“Mm,” she hummed, biting back a smile. “Different kind of vulnerability.”

He tilted his head. “Yeah?”

“You can’t exactly fake connection over pasta.”

Mingi’s eyes softened, thumb brushing her hand across the table. “Good thing ours isn’t fake then.”

And just like that, she melted again.

The food came, some kind of spicy seafood pasta for her, steak for him, shared sides, and they talked. About everything and nothing. About how he still couldn’t believe he used to be broke enough to consider stealing energy drinks. About how she once got suspended in high school for starting a fight defending Wooyoung.

She laughed more than she had in weeks. He looked at her like he was trying to memorize her all over again. And when dessert came, tiramisu with two spoons, he fed her the first bite with a smug little grin and zero shame.

“Romantic,” she teased, mouth full.

“Sexy,” he countered. “Wanna see how many bites it takes to get you to invite me back to your place?”

“Bold of you to assume you’re not already coming home with me.”

Mingi leaned in, close enough for her to feel his breath. “Home,” he echoed, voice low and soft. “That’s what it feels like with you.”

The check came and he paid without hesitation, hand finding hers again as they walked out into the chilly night air, laughter trailing behind them. They didn’t rush. Just strolled. Talked about maybe traveling someday. Maybe visiting Tokyo. Maybe starting a new stream series that was less sex, more vlogs, just the two of them being stupid in love.

And when they got home?

Mingi’s hand never left hers. He followed her through the door like gravity, like muscle memory, like he already belonged there, and he did. Gladiolus meowed once, trotted past them, then disappeared like even he knew what was about to happen.

The bedroom was dimly lit, the scent of vanilla and lavender lingering from the candle she blew out before leaving. Mingi stood just inside the room, eyes roaming her silhouette as she set her purse on the dresser and turned toward him.

She didn’t say anything.

Neither did he.

Just closed the space between them with a reverent slowness, fingertips brushing the line of her jaw, the slope of her cheek, like he needed to touch her first before he could believe she was really his.

And then he kissed her.

God, he kissed her like she was water and he’d been dying of thirst. Like she was soft soil and he was starved to bloom. His hands cupped her face, pulling her closer as his mouth opened over hers, gentle but eager, reverent but hungry. Her lips parted and she sighed, and it was the kind of sound that knocked the wind out of his chest.

“I’ve wanted this all day,” he murmured against her mouth. “Just you.”

Y/N’s fingers found the hem of his button up, tugging it loose from his waistband. Her touch was light, teasing, but her eyes burned with the same fire as his. “Then take me.”

His jaw flexed as he nodded, helping her unbutton his shirt slowly. With each button, she kissed the newly exposed skin, his sternum, the curve of his ribs, the dip above his navel. By the time the shirt slid off his arms, her fingers were already working on his belt.

But Mingi stopped her.

“Wait,” he whispered, reaching for her instead.

He undressed her with a kind of reverence he didn’t know he was capable of. Like she was sacred. His fingers brushed her arms, tugged her dress down inch by inch until it puddled at her feet. He kissed the swell of her breasts, the valley of her stomach, the tops of her thighs, like every part of her deserved his mouth before anything else.

When she was bare in front of him, shivering but not from cold, he scooped her up with strong arms and laid her down in the center of her bed.

He started at her ankles, lips brushing up her calves, kneecaps, thighs, God, her thighs, until his head dipped between them. His tongue piercing was the first thing to drag up her slit, slow and hot and filthy, and the moan that tore from her throat only fueled him.

He took his time. Licked into her like he had all night to make her shake. His tongue moved in deliberate circles, lips sealing over her clit, hands holding her thighs apart like she was a feast and he refused to be rushed.

Y/N hips rolled up, her back arched, and when she came, it was with a sob of his name that sent a shiver down Mingi’s spine.

But he didn’t stop there.

He licked her clean, every tremble, every flutter, and once again kissed his way up her trembling body, the silver of his tongue piercing glinting in the low light. When he reached her mouth again, he kissed her deep, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick and ragged.

And then he slid into her.

Slow.

Deep.

She gasped his name like a prayer, wrapping her legs around his waist, locking her ankles behind him. Their foreheads pressed together, breath mingling, bodies molding like they’d done this a thousand times and still couldn’t get enough.

Mingi’s hands found hers, interlaced, fingers woven together. His rhythm was steady, languid, loving, and every thrust made her gasp, moan, cling harder.

She came again, body arching, walls clenching so tight around him that Mingi nearly lost it right there. “Mine,” he whispered into her mouth. “You’re mine.”

With one final, desperate thrust, hips slamming deep and still, Mingi came with a groan so guttural it shook them both. He came hard, long, deep, his entire body shuddering as he buried his face in her neck, whispering her name over and over like it was his only tether to reality.

They stayed like that.

Connected.

Breathing.

Hearts pounding in sync.

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The next morning the soft rise and fall of Y/N breathing was the only sound in the room. She was curled on her side, skin warm, wearing nothing but one of Mingi’s shirts. He stayed close, tangled up with her, chest pressed to her back, fingers loosely laced with hers even in sleep.

Then came the knock.

Not casual.

Not polite.

Mingi’s eyes blinked open fast when the doorbell rang loudly.

He eased out of bed as gently as he could without waking her, jaw already tightening with a sense of dread. Something about the knock… he knew. This wasn’t a neighbor, or a package delivery.

Boxers barely slung on his hips, he padded downstairs, Gladiolus meowing and following sleepily from his perch on the stairs.

Another knock.

Mingi opened the door and there stood Y/N father, brows drawn together, jaw tight, phone in his hand.

Shit.

Mingi didn’t even have to ask. The second her dad held out the phone, he knew what was coming.

He took it. The screen already lit.

Unknown Number: Figured you’d want to see what your daughter’s been doing behind closed doors. [🔗 link]

His grip on the phone tightened. Not just because of the link. Not because it exposed them. Because he already knew who sent it. “Hyun,” Mingi said under his breath, teeth clenched.

Y/N father’s eyes narrowed. “You know who sent this?”

“Yeah.” Mingi exhaled, jaw tight. “We ran into him in Busan again after your party.”

Her dad didn’t even blink.

“He threatened to blackmail her,” Mingi continued. “Said he’d tell you. Said he’d expose us.”

“And you didn’t come to me?” her dad asked, not with anger, but with a steady edge. “Either of you?”

“She didn’t want you to be disappointed,” Mingi said honestly. “We both knew it would eventually get out. But she didn’t want it to be like this.”

Her father stepped inside slowly, shutting the door behind him. Mingi stood there in just his boxers, posture squared, heart racing. He expected rage. He expected a lecture.

“I don’t care about the streams. I care that someone thinks they can come after my daughter. That’s where this stops.”

Mingi’s chest tightened. “I’ll handle it.”

“No, we will.”

Just then, light footsteps came down the stairs, and both men turned. Y/N stood there, wrapped in Mingi’s shirt, her hair tousled from sleep, eyes wide with confusion and dawning dread.

“Dad?”

Mingi swallowed hard, stepping toward her slowly. “He knows.”

Y/N stood frozen on the stairs, one hand clutching the railing, the other curled into the hem of Mingi’s shirt. Her heart was hammering in her chest, not from fear of being caught, but fear of what he might think now that he knew. “Are you disappointed in me?” she asked quietly, voice trembling.

Her father blinked.

Mingi turned toward her instantly, about to speak, but her dad raised his hand, not to scold, but to answer for himself.

“No,” he said, firmly. “Not for a damn second.”

Y/N lips parted, but the words caught in her throat. Her dad took a step closer, his voice lowering just a little. “I’m disappointed in him, Hyun. And I’m disappointed that you didn’t feel like you could come to me. But you? I’m proud of the woman you’ve become.”

Y/N eyes glossed, lashes wet, and she slowly came down the stairs, her bare feet light against the wood. “I didn’t want to tell you,” she whispered, stopping just a step away from him. “Because I thought… you’d think less of me. For staying with him for as long as I did. For not telling you sooner.”

Her dad’s jaw clenched, pain flashing behind his eyes. “What did he do?”

Y/N swallowed. Hard. Her gaze dropped to the floor.

“He started slow,” she said. “Yelling. Controlling. He didn’t like my clothes, my friends. He started grabbing me, nothing too hard at first, not enough to bruise… but it got worse. The last time I saw him, I told him I was leaving, and he threw my phone at the wall. He shoved me hard enough I hit the table. I walked out and never looked back.”

Mingi looked devastated, fists clenched at his sides. But he didn’t move or speak. This wasn’t his moment. This was hers.

Her father looked like the air had been knocked out of him. “You went through that alone?”

“I didn’t want anyone to know. I was ashamed. It’s why I stopped dating. But then I met Mingi, and…” her voice broke, tears slipping down her cheeks now, “and he made me feel safe. Like I could finally breathe again.”

Her dad took her face gently in both hands, brushing away the tears with his thumbs. “I don’t give a shit about streams, Y/N. I care about you. You did what you had to to survive. And if anyone should be ashamed, it’s that bastard. Not you.”

A breath hitched in her chest, and then she collapsed against him, her arms wrapping tight around his middle as he held her, strong and steady, like when she was a little girl.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “You just need to let us help now.”

Behind them, Mingi blinked hard, his chest tight, jaw clenched so he wouldn’t cry too. But when Y/N pulled back slightly and looked at him, holding one hand out, he came to her immediately, fitting against her side like he belonged there.

Her dad watched the way Mingi looked at her, protective, soft, full of something stronger than just love.

“I’m not going to pretend this is normal,” her dad said, voice dry but gentle. “But hell, when has our family ever been normal?”

Y/N laughed wetly, tears still clinging to her lashes.

Her dad reached into his pocket, holding up the phone again. “Now. Let’s talk about how we make sure this little bastard gets exactly what he deserves.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

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