When Yall Say Fucked Out, This Is What I Imagine 😍😩

The affect he has on people

Someone plz tell me why armin is so hot ughhh

fantasising about getting kidnapped by them

just imagining the effort and risk theyd accept, just to get close to me and have me to themselves ♡ 

Dumb

Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader Warning: 18+, yandere vibes, sexual content - Noncon/dubious consent

Minors do not interact pls

Running from Ran Haitani was the dumbest thing you could have ever done.

But it was the only sane thing you could think of.

Because Ran Haitani wasn’t the man you thought him to be.

Upon meeting Ran, you had thought him to be a typical businessman in the middle of Japan. Yet when you looked into his eyes, you felt yourself fall for him instantly. All the stars were aligned after all. Right after landing the job of your dreams, you run into the most beautiful man you'd ever seen on the streets of Japan.

This was your fairytale. Your dream come true. Your prince charming that seemed to appear out of thin air.

So when he flippantly asks for your number with those dreamy eyes, you give it to him. No fight. No resistance. Simple obedience. He likes that about you. That's what he tells you when he’s running his fingers over your knuckles, pressing a soft kiss to them.

So you try not to ask too many questions.

When he takes off his winter coat and scarf on your dinner date, your wide eyes stare. “Oh - I didn’t know you had a tattoo…” That’s all you say, reminding yourself that you shouldn’t judge people based on ignorant ideologies you may have about things you know little about. After an unexpectedly rainy day together, you discover more tattoos curling down the side of his body when he removes his clothes for you to dry. You trace over them hesitantly and are happy when you see a smile curling on his lips.

Dumb.

Your relationship with Ran progresses quickly.

In one month, three weeks exactly, he asks you to be his girlfriend.

As unromantic as the setting was - in the small studio apartment you called home - you felt like Cinderella. “Y...you’re serious? I don’t like jokes, Ran.”

It’s only when Ran places a chaste kiss on your lips that you begin to cry, rubbing your teary eyes on his shirt. And if felt right to be in his warm embrace

When you first step into his penthouse that night, you feel shame. He’d seen your tiny living situation. Had eaten ramen noodles with you on your small sofa. Had been willing to help you hang up your laundry on the line outside your window.

But he is a businessman.

He hands you over a pair of keys, kissing your temple. “It’s yours.”

He introduces you to his younger brother Rindou in month two.

It is at a restaurant, and he looks you up and down before snorting, a slight grin on his face. That same tattoo on his neck. “Someone’s living beyond their means.”

His words sting your heart. You feel unworthy. Yet when you look up, you saw Rindou’s stare on Ran and felt the tightness of his hands on your own under the table. And that’s when you know those words aren't meant for you.

In month three, Ran asks you to move in with him.

“Let me take care of you,” he says, pressing his lips against your forehead before moving to take down the small photos on the wall.

“Wait Ran - you’re serious?” you ask, eyes wide and heart pounding. “You want me to move in?”

“I miss you even when you’re with me. I want to come home to you. Everyday. ” Despite the uncertainty in your head, your stomach fills with butterflies. The next day, he is moving your things into his penthouse.

In month four, he didn’t want you working.

“Can’t you understand that it makes me uncomfortable knowing that my woman is working when I can provide for her?” he nags to you in one of your small fights. “Why work when I do what I do for you?”

You stood, trying to calm him. “B-But Ran, you know I love my job - “

He grabs your arms, smoothing down the lengths of them to hold your hands. “I know you do, love, but don’t you think it’s time that we take us more seriously.” He rubs your ring finger, boring his gaze into your own.

And your eyes widen. A hint. A ring. Commitment.

Reluctantly, you agree for your work to be part-time and remote.

No matter how much time passes between the two of you, there is a boundary that you held onto despite Ran’s insistence.

“R-Ran,” you can't help but moan, pushing gently against his shoulders as he presses small kisses against your neck. You can feel his hands roaming down your sides, sliding under your sweater. “I don’t t-think - “ A hand strays to your jeans. Your breath hitches as he unbuttons them, sliding a hand over the front of your panties. Brushing against the thin, drenched fabric.

You gasp, pushing him off you abruptly and scrambling to the end of the sofa.

You take some time to catch your breath. You watch as he runs a hand through his hair, frustration dead in his eyes as he gets up without a word. Slamming the bedroom door. You find yourself gripping the front of your shirt, trying to calm your arousal.

Your sex life. Or lack thereof.

You are a virgin. And you were waiting for marriage. Little to do with religion, and more to do with your lack of trust in men. After an absent father, a not so pleasant uncle, and a brutal brother, you are afraid.

Afraid of choosing the wrong guy.

But you are sure that Ran was the one.

Until he comes home in blood one night.

Your world spins on its axis as you scurry to him, grabbing onto his soaked suit, blood staining your palms. “Oh my God, Ran - w-what happened?! Who did this to you?!”

Ran only sighs, pulling off black gloves. “Thought you were asleep, doll. Didn’t want you seeing this.”

“I n-need to call the police - “ Before you can finish your sentence, he brings his soft lips to your own. You push him away, worry clouding your chest as you usher him to the bathroom. He watches you with that lazy smile as you begin to undress him, his fingers rubbing small circles onto your waist.

That night, you bathe him, desperately trying to find the wounds. Yet you found nothing but faint scars hidden by tattoos.

It isn’t his blood you realize.

Ran chuckles as he drags you into the red, murky water, with little fight from you. Your white nightgown changes to a faint pink as he holds you in his embrace.

“I’m so lucky. You take such good care of me. ‘Love you so much.”

You don't sleep the next three nights. You spend your weekend scrubbing the entryway to the penthouse. No matter how much you scrub, you can still see blood on the floor and on your palms.

You still love Ran. So you don't ask any questions. That’s what he likes about you after all.

Quickly, you find yourself entangled in Ran’s lifestyle.

Gun rounds replace the remote on the coffee table. You try to get over your initial shock by organizing it, shakily putting it in a box on one side of the table. Your pill cabinet becomes full of blank bottles - from time to time, you’d see Sanzu, his co-worker, casually going through your pill cabinet in your bathroom. When he starts snorting coke on the kitchen counter, you don't have the nerve to say anything.

Kokonoi is a different story - you can talk to him. He just chose when to listen. You mistake his demeanor for childish mirth at the beginning. He’d been easy to talk to - almost like talking to a distant relative. Until he begins taking you around the city with him. First, it was to dinners, then movies. Shopping dates. All of these nice things were used against you when he suddenly takes you to the Red light district and you see how he gets his money. The first time you see a young girl, no older than 16, scantily dressed, giving Kokonoi her share, you can't sleep without seeing her thin face in your dreams. You avoid Koko now.

But the scariest addition to your life is Rindou.

His lingering gaze becomes a usual thing. He says things that make you uncomfortable -

“Ran actually lets you go out looking like that? Wow.” “You’re so dumb.” “You’d let me smash right? If the tables were turned?”

Rindou started wanting hugs from you when he would visit. Then kisses. The first time he kisses you on the lips, it catches you off guard. It makes you feel sick. But then, he does it again, this time in front of Ran. You expect rage; instead, Ran rolls his eyes and goes on about his business. The third time, Rindou pushed his tongue in your mouth. You cry the whole week behind it.

Dumb.

It didn't take a degree or complete common sense to know that Ran's "job" consisted of being enthralled in the shadows of Japan. Yet, you couldn't convince yourself to believe it. Or maybe, you just wanted to avoid it. So you tried to ignore it, but each instance made the hole in your heart grow bigger.

The day you question Ran is the day all hell breaks loose.

You try to voice your concerns to him over dinner. “Ran, c-can we talk for a minute?”

“Here we go,” he mutters, lifting his violet eyes to meet your own. That mirthful smile on his lips. As if whatever you two had going on was normal. As if it were just another Friday. He pulled away from the table, giving his lap a pat.

You try to act normal as you seat yourself on his lap, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulder. It’s only when you look down at him and his beautiful gaze do you break.

And you’re crying. Because this isn’t the future that you wanted for the two of you. Because those dreams of living happily with good morals are gone. You wanted your love to transcend beyond time, yet you have found yourself at a crossroads with Ran. Him or your morals? Ran, or the family you always dreamed of having? Ran...or you?

He’s wiping your tears away with his fingers, his touch gentle. “Doll, why are you crying? Did something happen?”

“Ran...I don’t like how we are right now…I feel like you’re keeping secrets from me.”

“What secrets?”

“Well, you never really told me what you do for a living...” When his light eyes flicker to you, you spill everything. “I’m just worried is all. I don’t like g-guns around the house. And, I don’t really like it when...when S-Sanzu does his business on the counter. And, I-I didn’t mention this at first, but Rindou- “

He cuts you off. “Didn’t know the world revolved around you, y/n. I put up with a lot of things, but I’m not complaining to you about them. Because I love you and I accept you for who you are, don’t I?”

What? “Um...yes, but I - “

“Why do you sound so unsure? Don’t I take good care of you, y/n? You know I do all of this for you, right?” He presses a kiss to your temple, dragging his lips to your ear. “Answer me when I’m talking to you.”

You try to move from his embrace, but he digs his fingers into your waist, making you wince at the sudden pain. “Yes Ran, but - “

“Good. Now drop it.”

You look away. You couldn’t let this go. “I’m not trying to start an argument -“

Suddenly he pushes you off of him as he gets up, beginning to pace around the room. “You’re so fucking annoying. You should be happy that I’m here with you considering all the bullshit you’re putting me through. ”

“Don’t curse at me.” His words and actions shake you. This Ran hadn’t existed when you first met. And though his words cut you, made you question your worth and choices, you couldn’t back down from this. “If this is about our lack of intimacy, Ran, I was honest with you about that in the beginning. Like I was honest about who I was and what I did. You, on the other hand, have been keeping things from me. I can’t trust you. And I won’t be with someone I can’t trust.”

A warning.

You are taken aback by the sudden fear in his eyes. Fear. Total anguish at your words.

You don't stop him when he leaves that night. Instead, you cry yourself to sleep, unaware of the fact that Ran was having a panic attack outside his brother’s home.

He comes home early the next morning. You feel him before you see him, his long arms coming to wrap around you from behind that morning. “I should’ve kept walking when I bumped into you. Shouldn’t have asked for your number. Should’ve just left you alone.”

Your tears wet the pillowcase.

He presses a kiss on the back of your neck. "But don't I deserve good things, too?"

You give in to his warmth as you drift back to sleep, praying for this peace to last longer between you two.

Things between you two change drastically.

Ran doesn't go to work for the next two weeks. He clings to you, never letting you leave his lavender gaze. He watches your every move. Whether you were in the kitchen, or the bathroom, or running errands - Ran is there. It is unsettling for you. It gets so bad that you have to quit your job to keep him sated with attention. You had yet to bring up his job, afraid of what his reaction would be.

His coworkers are not happy about this at all.

Ran begins snapping at everyone who calls his phone - Rindou gets an earful and a death threat. The only person who gets through to him and makes him get up off his ass (and away from you) was his boss “Mikey.” Even then you can't catch a break - he would text you every minute of the day to the point where he would repeatedly call your phone if you don't text him back within the 15-minute mark.

And this had been all your fault. If you hadn’t threatened to leave him, none of this would have happened. That’s what you told yourself. And you felt awful. Because the state of Ran’s well-being depended on you, and as much you hated how things were, you were still in love with him.

So, you decide to drop it. The surprise on Ran’s face when he is greeted with your embrace warms your soul. He clings to you, breathing in your scent as if it was his lifeline. “Let’s start over,” you whisper.

And for a few weeks, you are happy. So happy that you decide to surprise him at work.

When you walk into his office, you don't expect to see him with a group of unknown men. Ran ignores you as he continues talking to the men, and you go about your way in setting down the food on his desk. As you are about to leave, you catch the eye of one of the men. That’s when all hell breaks loose.

“The fuck are you looking at? Huh?," Ran spits.

You flinch, turning to meet his gaze. But he isn't looking at you. “When I’m talking, you pay attention to me," he yells towards one of the men. Everything goes fast, and suddenly he's smashing the man’s head onto his desk. Repeatedly.

You freeze in place, watching blood pour onto the floor. That manic gleam in Ran’s eyes. How the men in the room simply stare. The smell of dull pennies fills your head.

You cry to your sister on the phone when you get to your car. “Don’t be dumb,” she says. “You know what he’s doing.” Yes, you did now. He is a gang member. He is dangerous. Yet you loved him. “You need to leave.”

Ran comes home early. You will yourself not to flinch when he comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you tightly as you cook dinner. “I’m sorry you had to see that today, love.” Not sorry that it happened. “You know how I am when it concerns you, right? Forgive me?”

You nod, and after a few minutes, he lets you go, only sparing you a short kiss to your neck as he announces he’s going to shower. You felt empty. Yet you continue your routine of picking up his jacket and suitcase off the floor. Then his phone rings. And as empty and as hurt as your chest was, you follow your intuition and picked it up.

“Rannn~, you left your burner here on the bed! What do you want me to do?” A woman says on the other line.

Your heart breaks in two. You can't stop the whimper that escapes your mouth, and immediately she knows who it was she is speaking to.

“Is...is this Y/n? I-I, sorry - p-please don’t tell him I called.” Her fear makes your stomach churn.

You hang up. It was only then that you look through the messages to see the requested nude pictures, the flirty texts, the promises of meeting up again. Not just from her - from several unnamed numbers.

And this is what happens when you push aside your morals and standards for someone else. You get hurt. And so do others. As much as it hurt and as much as your heart called out to Ran and his love, you knew better.

So you decide to leave.

Ran holds you especially tight this night, burying his head into your chest. His warmth brings tears to your eyes as you realize this would be your last night. You have to pry his fingers off of you. Luckily, he was a heavy sleeper.

He whispers your name in his slumber. You shut the door behind you and don’t look back.

You leave everything behind that night. Your clothes and shoes. Your car. Your phone. The remnants of your old life are left with Ran that night.

Your sister meets you at the bus station, catching your crying form in her arms. The amount of pain that you felt that night made you want to forget everything about him.

And you try.

For three weeks, you cry your eyes out on your sister’s couch. You barely eat. You go through your usual doubts and regrets - you see his violet eyes in your dreams from time to time. And in the dead of the night, your mind conjures up the possibility, or fact, that he’s already moved on to someone else. That he doesn’t lose sleep thinking about your whereabouts. That right at this very moment, he’s receiving warmth from someone else. Someone who could give him what he wanted. Someone who could support him in every way possible. Someone who he would give his love through and through.

And this breaks you all over again. Yet, it doesn’t destroy you.

Three months later pass along with your heartache. You can look at yourself in the mirror. The first time you finish your plate at dinner, your sister cries. You find a job that you love. All your old friends start coming around again. Things were becoming...great. You still miss Ran, but you can live without him.

...

But Ran Haitani can’t live without you.

In your classroom, one of your students comes up to you and asks, “Are you married, y/n-sensei?”

Your heart lurches forward, but you shake your head. “As single as a pringle. Your dad isn’t asking about me again, is he?”

He shakes his head, going back on topic. “But if you’re not married, who was that scary guy that walked you to the train yesterday morning?”

Your blood runs cold. “What are you talking about, hun?”

The little boy nods, “I saw you two get off at your stop on the way back too, so I just thought - “

Reality kicks in, and you’re leaving school to hop on the first train home. To your sister. Who you had got entangled in your mess. Your gut is screaming. You had ghosted Ran. You had left him and hadn’t come back. The blood on his hands becomes a recurring image in your hand, and you feel bile rising in your throat.

Your fears are confirmed when you get to your sister’s home and see a sleek black car on the side of the street. Two large men standing by the front door.

And you hear your sister yelling. The sounds of glass.

As scared and as cowardly as you are, you wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt your sister. The men don’t stop you from entering the home, almost as if they are expecting you to be here. And the house is crashed, broken picture frames and glass on a pile in the middle of the floor.

Your sister gasps at the sight of you as she huddles in the corner with a knife in her possession. “Leave, y/n! He’s fucking crazy - “

“Ever predictable aren’t we, y/n?” you hear him say, his words curt, anger underneath it all. But you don’t look at him, instead of going to your sister and pulling her close.

She clings to you, her nails digging into your skin. “You need to run, y/n. Please leave before he gets to you.”

“Y/n, we need to talk,” Ran says, and though you hear him approach the two of you, you will yourself not to look back. “Y/n.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll fix this, okay?” You usher your sister to her room, closing it gently before finally turning your sight to Ran.

And despite his usual handsomeness and swagger, he looks tired. The dark circles under his eyes are bold. He’s lost weight you notice. And despite his passive expression, you can see that desperation in his eyes. That franticness makes your heart race. Yet you keep your cool, crossing your arms. “You have no right to mess up my sister's place, Ran. You’re paying for the damages.”

He scoffs, a frown settling on his brow. “Y/n, don’t fuck with me right now. Explain yourself before I spazz.”

“Don’t curse at me. You know I don’t like that.” You sigh, trying to push back the sudden tears trying to leak from your eyes. “There’s nothing to explain. You’re just not the man for me, Ran.”

His angry demeanor fades, and you’re left with the emotionless shell that is Ran. And he has nothing to say. As usual. And your emotions overflow.

You can’t stop the tears this time as you sob. When Ran reaches out to hold you, you pull away. “I can’t keep doing this, Ran. I don’t have the heart for it. I can’t be with you anymore.”

He looks taken aback, taking a moment to run his hand through his hair in frustration. “Y/n, we can talk about this at home. Just come with me and we’ll fix it - ”

“I’m not going. Please, just leave -“

You don’t get to finish your sentence before his ring-clad fingers are on your neck. And you can’t breathe. You gasp, digging your nails into his fingers.

“Do you want your sister to die tonight?,” Ran whispers. His grip tightens as he brings you closer, eyes piercing into your soul. “We’ll talk about this at home.” He says again. “Get your things and come outside. You have three minutes or I’ll blow her brains out.”

You nod, letting your tears fall onto his hand. He stares over your face, but he eventually let go and steps outside.

Your sister tries to pry you for answers, but you wave her off as you grab your things. You understood the situation. You had made a mistake dragging her into this.

You had decided to try at a relationship with someone as dangerous as Ran. These consequences are what you would have to bear, not her.

The ride back to your shared home is silent. You can’t keep your tears back as you look out the window. At one point, Ran reaches over to place a hand on your thigh. You ignore him, but don’t move away. This violent side of Ran is unpredictable. It scares you.

What scares you, even more, is when you make it back, and you find yourself in the same room with him.

“Put your things away. Then we can talk,” he motions to your suitcase. He watches you, and you watch him with hesitation. And with good reason. Because as soon as you turn to go to the closet, he wraps his arms around you from behind.

“Please don’t touch me,” you mutter, pushing him away as you move away from his neck kisses.

He sighs into your neck. “I’m working on my anger. You know how I get when it’s about you. Don’t hold it against me.”

You shake him off you, moving away from him. “Leave me alone, Ran.”

“We can start over. I’ll get over you leaving me if you forgive me. We can make this work.”

It was like talking to a broken wall. And the bedroom was feeling smaller than usual as Ran approaches you. You slip away from him, quickly going into the living room where there is more room.

“Y/n, are you listening?” Ran tries to grab you, but you yank your arm away.

“Are you listening, Ran? I don’t want to be with you anymore! We’re over! ”

You two are at a standstill at the couch. You’re pivoting from side to side, trying to avoid his grasp. It makes your heart race when his eyes lower into an emotionless haze. And suddenly, he’s chasing you.

“Ran, STOP!” You whimper, fear creeping into your chest. But he’s storming behind you with that sadistic energy. Somehow, you manage to lock yourself in the bedroom. The punches to the door are angry.

You’re crouching as tears fall down your cheeks. Ran has become unpredictable for you. You’re afraid of him, all the love you had turning to fear as he pounds on the door.

When you pick up your phone, you have half the mind to call the cops -

The pounding ceases as his deep voice seems to float under the door. “Don’t think about it or you’re fucked.”

That’s all he says for minutes. You know what he means. You don’t hear any doors. He hasn’t left. You don’t know what to do. You’re seven floors up. The only way to the front door is out of the bedroom.

All you can do is hide in the walk-in closet. Closing it and start to put boxes in front of it.

The bedroom door creaks open. You close your eyes. You hear him shift throughout the room. He’s laughing. Like it’s a game.

“You’re so dramatic, y/n. Where are you hiding?”

When you don’t answer he sighs. “You’re in trouble when I find you. I swear. First, you ghost me, and now this. Fucking ridiculous -“ something breaks before the light under the closet door flickers. He throws the lamp.

Ran yanks at the closet door suddenly, frightening you, yet you cover your mouth. When he finds it stuck, he laughs again.

“If you come out now, I won’t hurt you. I’ll forget this happened and we can go to bed, okay love?”

You don’t answer, and he kicks the door open.

“Sorry, s-sorry,” you plead, but he corners you into a wall. “I won’t tell anyone about what you do. I’ll go back home and won’t speak of you again.”

His fingers caress your neck once he’s close enough. You flinch. “Love, you are home.”

Still, you try to plead your case. “I can leave the country if you want. I promise I won’t tell anyone. J-Just, please, let me go.”

He starts to litter kisses on your neck down to your shoulder. He doesn’t listen. Ran never listens to you.

Instead, he pushes you towards the bed, prying your legs open to settling between them. You moved to push him away, but he grabbed your wrists, pushing them above your head.

You couldn’t stop your tears from flowing. “I won’t say anything to anyone. I’ll leave Japan - plea - “ He presses his lips against your own, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You try to move your face away, but the grip he had on your wrists is tight. Pain shoots down your arm.

“Try that again and I’ll tie you up. Stop.” He let go of your wrists, his hands sliding down your waist. Your nerves bubble in your throat as he settles into your neck, pressing wet kisses against your spot. You try to muffle your whimpers, but when his warm hands smooth over your breasts you couldn’t help but gasp.

“You like that?” He whispers before trailing his kisses to your collarbone. “You’re gonna be a good girl for me, yeah? Let me make you feel good?” he lifts your shirt above your breast, pressing his lips between them.

You would never forgive him. This would never make you forget.

Yes as much as you remind yourself of this, as much as you fear him, hate him, the warmth pooling between your legs is overpowering. And Ran’s teasing doesn’t help it, his deft hands sliding up your sides and working on undoing your bra.

“Love, I’m sorry. Please,” he speaks between kisses on your buxom, “Forgive me. Give me another chance? Be mine again.” He grabs your hands and presses your palm against his face. “It’s been so hard being without you. I could barely sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw your face. I know I deceived you. I know I’m not good enough for you. But I need you in my life. I can’t do this without you.”

You are shaking, tears clouding your vision as you look at the dark circles under his eyes and the way his own eyes are clouded in such emotion.

You would never find a man like Ran. You don’t know if that was a good or bad thing now.

“Y/n?” You can’t give him an answer. You are afraid of what you’d say. Your heart and mind are at war. Until you hear a sigh come from him, and the clinking of metal fills your ears. And suddenly you feel something click around your wrist.

You tug at it just for Ran to click the other end of the cuffs to the bedpost. And you realize how fucking stupid you are to fall for this act again.

“What an ungrateful little bitch - I bear my heart to you just for this? Rindou was right - I have spoiled you too much”

He falls on top of you again, pulling off the rest of your clothes. You kick and push against him, but he grabs your free arm and twists it back. The scream falls from your lips instantly, the pain excruciating.

“I told you to stop, didn’t I? Now you’ve gone and hurt yourself.” Ran rolls his eyes, tugging down your panties.

And you are embarrassingly wet.

You clamp your legs together. “Ran, please don’t do this. I-I don’t want this…”

He moves away from you with a sigh. “When I say I’ve been doing some soul-searching since you’ve been gone, I have. In your absence, I realized that my life is nothing without you, y/n. You are everything to me. No one can compare - not even Rindou anymore. I love only you, y/n.”.

He moves to rummage through the drawer beside you. You close your eyes, letting your tears fall down your neck. You expect to hear him unwrapping a condom. Yet when you open your eyes, you saw a small blue box in front of your nose. And when he opened it, cold hard dread seeps through you.

Tanzanite and diamond. Platinum band. $34,000. An engagement ring.

It slips perfectly on your ring finger. Before you could try to take it off, he intertwines his fingers with your own. “We’ll sort the details tomorrow. For now, tonight will be our honeymoon night. We’ll be one.”

“No,” you whimper, yet he closes the distance between you two again, his lips hungry. The expanse of skin on your stomach littered in kisses. Down to your mound. You involuntarily gripped his head at his first kiss to your clit, and you could feel the vibration of his chuckle against you.

“You’re so sensitive, y/n - all for me, right? No one else but your husband.” He passes up your sensitive bud to lick up your slit, and you moan so loudly you surprise yourself. “My pretty wife.”

Ran finds your spot. The edge where he could bend you where he wants. At his continued nips and licks at your entrance, your free hand moves to grip his locks, causing him to groan into you. The diamond ring shining in the moonlight from the windows. It was daunting yet romantic. It made your heart stir. Made the pain in your wrists intensify. Made you moan a little louder.

“You close? Gonna cum on my face, love? Do it.” His tongue probes at your entrance and you cave in at the pressure of his nose on your clit. You can’t give him any warnings - it is your first time. Your first orgasm. It sets your body free, the sensation pulling you upwards. Your release gushes onto his face, your hand nearly pulling the hair from his scalp as you held his face closer to your sex. Your head is stuffy, yet you can comprehend to say his name on your high.

His large hands slide up your chest, cupping your breasts and pulling at your nipples as he worked to slurp up your release as much as he could. You could barely breathe as ecstasy courses through you. Your body twitches as he kisses up to your face, placing a deep kiss on your mouth.

And when you make contact with his love-blown eyes, you weep. You wail, turning away as sobs rack your body

Ran uncuffs your wrist, massaging into the prints it made as he settles between your thighs. “Love, you’ve got to calm down. Take a deep breath for me.”

“I love you,” you sob, putting your face in your hands. “I never stopped loving you..” You’d put your whole future into Ran. Had dreamed about it. Could feel it at times. Yet, he’d sold you false hope. In this reality with Ran, you would never get your happy ending.

He lets out a breath of relief. “That makes me so happy. I could die right now. You know I can’t live without you, right? You’re the only woman who’s ever made me feel this way,” he pecks your lips, running a hand down your thigh towards your cunt. His middle finger slides in easily, rubbing gently against your walls.

You squeak, holding onto his wrist going in and out of you. “But you hurt me, Ran. You hurt me with the things you do. T-This isn’t what I want for my future.”

He buries his face into your neck, working another finger into you. You moan his name, the feeling of his fingers making your legs shake. Your actions only make him pick up speed, and suddenly you are gripping onto his shoulders, your hips moving in tandem with his fingers.

“Our future. Together. Like you promised me,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You hate yourself. But when you look into his eyes and see your Ran, you can’t help the pleasure that fills you.

You can feel it building within you again, that golden pressure. Just as soon as it is about to burst, he pulls his fingers from you, plunging them into his mouth. “We’ll build our future together, y/n. I’ll give you everything you want.” He starts to undo his pants, and you panic. “I can change, y/n. For you, I’d do anything.”

“I can’t, Ran,” you whimper, pulling your legs together just for him to tug them apart.

“I want my family, y/n,” he snaps curly, pushing your legs to your chest. It takes you a few seconds to understand what he means before he pushes inside of you without notice. And it fucking hurts.

“No noonono, please, not this,” you beg, but he ignores you, pushing into you with hard, deep strokes. Each thrust causes more tears to fall, the pain intensifying.

Ran rolls his hips into you, catching your clit with his pelvic bone, making you cry out loud. “Fighting this when you really want it is annoying, y/n. Let go. If I wanted to pull out I couldn’t with the way you’re clenching me - shit!” He leaned into your neck, grunting. “Fuck, relax already!”

The irony. Ran's grunts, his thrusts, his scent - it was heightening your senses, making you throb more around his length. And he feels that and seems to be struggling to keep himself together. It makes your heart flutter. You can make him tremble. You can make him feel as breathless as he made you feel.

Your Ran.

Your tears subside as your hips meet with his thrusts. At your change of behavior, Ran starts kissing you, going into your deeper and stronger. The moment took over you. You throw your arms around his neck, playing at the hair at his nape.

For now, you would pretend. Pretend that this was the Ran you knew. Pretend that this night was his and yours together. Pretend that everything was okay in his arms.

At those peaceful dreams, your pull Ran closer, and he makes every effort to make your moans louder.

“Tell me you love me again,” he commands, his movements faster, shaking the bed. “Say it.”

“I love you,” You feel his tears seep out against your neck, and can’t help but tighten your hold on him.

He pulls away, looking down at you. “Look at me.” You try your best at keeping your eyes open to stare into his light ones. Even in this disheveled state, maniac and all, he is beautiful to you. “I love you too. Cum.”

You scream as your second orgasm is ripped from you - the strongest, most intense feeling you ever felt before. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist as you cream hard around his length. You could feel new tears forming in your eyes as you continue to clench around him rhythmically. His thrusts become faster as he seems to reach his breaking point. Despite the cloudiness of your mind, you quickly gain clarity as to what is about to happen.

You unwrapped yourself from him and weakly push against him in desperation. “Y-You have to pull out! Ran!” He doesn’t listen. Ran never listens. Not even two seconds later, you feel a warm flow inside of you.

He falls against you, his breaths are heavy. You try to weakly push him off, but he keeps you steady. When he pulls out, you can feel his release pool from you. Yet, he pushes it back inside of you, gently rubbing at your sensitive clit.

Your eyelids begin to drift, but you don’t miss the clicking sound of the cuffs on your wrists again. Or miss the warmth of Ran’s hand as it travels to pat the small of your stomach...

Dumb.

fly me to the moon

pairing: hwang inho/young-il/frontman x fem reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 20, he's in his late 40s) angst, slight masochism, made him very fatherly again, mutual obsession, badly written smut, conflicting feelings, she's kinda crazy about him, brat reader, brat tamer inho, unhealthy dynamics, slight infantilization

summary: you're desperate to piss him off. it doesn't end well.

(part 3 the dusk till dawn series)

word count: 4.2k

FULL SERIES MASTERLIST

the ankle monitor attached to your leg itches.

you grunt in irritation as you use a spoon to scratch the area. it barely helps— you know the itching is more mental than it is physical. the mere presence of it bothers you. but at the same time, you're relieved. you were given two options— either that, or still having your hand chained to the bed with those insufferable straps. you chose the former. atleast it allows you to walk freely.

you're still not used to this lifestyle. honestly speaking, you've lost track of how long it's been. you mainly tried to count the days based upon the games, but inho doesn't allow you to witness the brutality of the newer games he's designed. he never even mentions them— pretends like it was all a dream and that everything between the two of you is okay. you pretend you don't almost piss yourself whenever his voice switches mid conversation— or when he puts on that mask and grabs his gun before leaving.

while it irritates you, a part of you is almost grateful. atleast this way, you can pretend you don't know exactly how sadistic he can be.

you almost snort at your thinking. you feel pathetic— but then again, do you have a choice?

he's given you free reign of his lavish penthouse— conveniently keeping any and all electronics or sharp objects away from you. which, you need to clap him on the back for. because the first thing you did when you were left alone and uncuffed was look for anything that you could use to hurt yourself— to touch an empathetic nerve in inho. your confidence in thinking of doing so was because he's made it clear how much the idea of losing you scared him. you tried to joke with him the other day— something about him coming back to find you bleeding out on the floor, and he got so furious that he threw his bottle of whiskey against the wall and then gave you an earful about making distasteful jokes. you almost considered running over and grabbing a glass shard and killing yourself in front of him to truly traumatize him like he did with you; but then the thought of your family and your dignity stops you.

you will not kill yourself over a man.

you've thought of many jokes since then, but never dared mention them in his presence.

currently, you were frolicking around— eyeing the massive screen on which he apparently watches the games. you'd insisted upon it once— and he'd pulled you into his lap and allowed you a single glimpse before hiding your face in the crook of his neck and patting your back till you fell asleep to the sound of 'fly me to the moon.'

your eyes narrow. you look around, desperate to find something. there's an itch within you that you need to scratch—it's different than your ankle. it's the itch to be insufferable, to take a sweet little revenge against your old man; to frustrate him and ruin his day like he ruined your life. you can only hope that if you succeed in doing so, he won't kill your entire family in a fit of rage. you've been forcing your heart to believe he's only bluffing, even though you know he isn't.

your eyes fall upon the side table placed by the couch. you look at it, then at the screen. then back at it. with a newfound vigour, you rush forward and pull out the drawer— it's empty except for a few files. you toss them out and hold the drawer in both hands, before looking back at the screen with the most devilish glint in your eyes.

you let out a victorious roar before lunging— using all the strength you can muster and then thrashing the drawer against the screen.

it doesn't budge. the blow has you stumbling over your steps, and the drawer falls upon your feet. you let out a cry, tears of frustration appearing in your eyes. you scream and pick up the drawer again, and then thrash it against the screen over and over— till your hands hurt and sweat builds across your skin.

the screen remains spotless.

amidst your one sided battle, you fail to hear the sound of the door opening.

"it's shatterproof." a heavy voice announces, distorted through the mask.

panting, you drop the drawer and shoot him the meanest glare you can muster with mascara running down your cheeks. he cocks his head to the side— the barrier of the mask between you two making you feel uneasy.

"are you done acting like a child?"

you release a heavy, shaky breath as you stare at him. you want to jump at him, tear that mask off and slam his head against the wall. you want to kiss him and beg him to spare you and your family. your heart races with adrenaline— and your skin feels hot. acting like a child, he says. he's treated you like a child forever. what's so wrong in acting like one?

you slick your hair back, eyes darting around the room— examining everything you can see, till an idea pops in your head.

against your better judgement, you pick up the drawer again. slowly, like a predator, you walk to the side, your gaze never leaving his figure. you stand before his music box— the one with the pretty jazz band that plays 'fly me to the moon,' whenever he watches the games. you've heard it quite a few times since you got here, and you have buried your head in the pillows a few times to avoid hearing it.

you used to adore frank sinatra, but now you can only associate his lyrics with impending doom.

you wish he wasn't wearing that mask, because you would've loved to see his reaction when you ruined something he visibly finds comfort in. you would've felt bad, if he hadn't done the same to you. if he hadn't taken your young-il from you.

you raise the drawer, and then bring it down fiercely. it almost happens in slow motion— how the music box shatters into pieces, and the tiny dolls fall to the floor.

you pant as you drop the drawer then, and wipe the sweat off your forehead. suddenly feeling brave, you shoot him the most smug smile you can muster in your breathless haze.

the silence that follows is suffocating. you blink at him, shoulders rising and falling with your heavy breaths — while he stands there patiently with his hands clasped behind his back.

"are you gonna keep standing there, watching me?" you ask, quirking an eyebrow.

you resist the urge to step back as he advances towards you ever so slowly. he looks at his broken music box, then redirects his blank, masked face back at you.

you egged him on, "aren't you gonna say something?"

"was this supposed to anger me?" he asks. you can detect a hint of amusement in his voice, "a man in my position doesn't have materialistic attachments."

you scoff, vision almost turning red with rage at his tone.

"i think i can afford another music box," he adds dryly, cocking his head to the side, "but what do i do about your manners?"

your eyes narrow with agitation— you were so desperate to piss him off, to evoke an actual reaction out of him; but he isn't giving you one. it frustrates you. before you can do anything, his foot pops out, hits your leg in just the right place to make you shriek and drop to your knees immediately— till the shattered pieces of the box dig into your skin painfully— wood and glass.

"fuck!" you wince, letting out another pained groan. he watches you blankly, and in this moment you wish that mask would just disappear. it makes him look more like a stranger than he already is. you want to see his reaction, even if it is at the expense of your pain. "you— ow! you asshole—"

"language." he chides, bending down slightly so he can grab your hair and yank your head up. you squirm around, trying to get up but he holds you in place, "why must you keep acting like a child—"

"why, i thought i was a child!" you snap back at him angrily, recalling his words from when he refused to send you back into the games. you're furious, "why shouldn't i act like one if you keep treating me that way!"

"do you not want me to?" he asks, giving you a humourless chuckle, "you want me to treat you like the adult you are, huh, darling? i'll treat you like an adult."

you grumble in confusion and he gives your head a little push as he lets go of your hair and straightens up. his hand comes down to shift his robe to the side so he can have access to his dress pants. he pulls it down slightly along with his boxers, revealing how hard he's been by your little show of defiance. your eyes widen and you almost choke on your spit as he grabs your head again, his free hand guiding his cock to your eager mouth, "fuck— is this what you wanted?" he groans, throwing his head back slightly as you wrap your lips around him with the enthusiasm of a slut. he's so unbelievably thick— and all your knowledge for sucking dick comes from porn, so you try your best— forgetting almost every vengeful thought as the skin of his neck is exposed to your vision.

you have never wanted a man this badly.

small cuts on the skin of your knees open up because of the damage you caused, but you can't bring yourself to think about it— not when you lick a long, wet stripe on the underside of his cock, before placing a teasing kiss upon his tip. he looks down at you again, his gloved hand digging into your hair, guiding your head up and down as you try to take him fully into your mouth. your hands come up in an attempt to hold what your mouth can't, but he slaps them away, "put those behind your back."

this time, you obey. your eyes water as he immediately pushes himself to the hilt till your nose presses against the coarse hair at his pubic bone— and only then you know that you are truly gone, because you moan at the smell of him. he lets out a soft grunt again when he pulls your head back, before thrusting in and out of your mouth gently. your hands stay clasped behind your back as he uses your mouth, his balls slapping against your chin as your watery eyes look up at him. you wish you could see him— you want to see his face, you want to see what he looks like when he cums in your mouth for the first time.

you whimper, pulling your head back slightly. he allows you, and you lean down to press a needy kiss to his balls before licking up his cock again. your voice is hoarse when you speak, "let me see your face."

he looks at you for a bit— the stoic face of the mask making you feel more and more isolated— like you're pleasuring someone else. and perhaps, you are, in a way. this isn't your young-il anymore.

"after that little stunt," he answers quietly, voice grim, "you don't deserve it."

you almost whine as he grabs your head again and forces his cock back down your throat— and then you realize what this is. what you thought started as some sort of reward is actually a punishment. you whimper as you gag around him, choking with each sharp thrust as his movements begin to get harsher. tears run down your face as you glare at him, and in retaliation you bring your hand up and grab his thigh. he hisses at being disobeyed, pulls your head forward till you nose is quite literally pressed against his stomach. "hands. behind your back."

despite struggling to breathe, you shake your head as best as you can given the situation. you can't see his face, but you can tell the exact expression he must be making. the one where his eyes get all intense, and his lips start quivering with rage, as if he wants to explode.

you moan slightly and take the opportunity to pull your head back. and then get back to sucking his cock— your tongue rolling deliciously across his shaft as you cup his balls. it almost makes him stumble with shock— the sudden pleasure he feels, judging by the throaty moan that escapes him. motivated by his newfound weakness, you jerk him off while mouthing at the soft skin of his balls, and he almost bends down as he lets out a raspy groan, "fuck! that feels— fuck!"

"language," you tease slightly, voice raspy. you enthusiastically indulge him, your brain suddenly consisting of him, and only him. his voice. his face. his moans. the way his eyes crinkle. you switch from sucking his balls to kissing his tip and jerking him off.

as if to reward you, he suddenly pulls his mask off, one hand of his going up to hold onto the wall for support. he squeezes his eyes shut, and the mere sight of his face has you crumbling— you let out a soft moan as you take him down your throat again. one of your hands slips into your panties, and you start rubbing your clit with vigour as he fucks your throat.

"you little fucking brat—" he grunts, thrusting shallowly in and out of your mouth, the vein in his neck popping and a few strands of his styled hair falling beautifully down his forehead. he's hot when he swears, you think— starry eyed as you look at him. you've never seen a more angelic sight. as you gurgle around his cock, he holds your head down again and throws his head back, cumming with a loud gasp. you cum with a choked moan of your own, your hand shaking as you rub circles into your clit, overstimulating yourself.

you choke as you feel him spill down your throat, and he pants heavily as he slowly pulls himself back, before quickly tucking himself into his pants. you swallow it and cough slightly, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as you wince a little— it leaves a bitter and sticky aftertaste, but nothing too bad. you're sure you'll get used to it. he grabs your wrist and bends down to stick your wet fingers in his mouth, licking your slick off. his tongue rolls around the digits and you moan, eyes dazed as he ensures your entire palm is clean, before pulling back while smacking his lips and humming in appreciation like you were the most prized delicacy in the world.

as if nothing happened, he swiftly picks you up like you're a mere doll— carrying you bridal style to the bathroom. your hair— damp with sweat, sticks to your skin, and your eyes are bloodshot.

and though you can remember your original intention being wanting to take revenge, this somehow felt much more better.

perhaps, you really are too far gone.

you look off into space thoughtfully as he settles you on the bathroom counter. his face is uncovered but guarded— he takes his gloves off, grabs a towel and wets it with water before tending to you. with utmost gentleness, he pulls your bottoms down and tosses them in the basket, before analyzing your wounds.

your panties are so wet it's almost shameful. you got that horny just by sucking his cock. he glances at your face, and you look away sheepishly. the smell of you makes his head spin, but he needs to concentrate on something else. you clear your throat and redirect your attention to his face.

you stare at him while he stares at your knees. he gently wipes the blood off, ensuring no remaining pieces of the music box stick to your skin. he disinfects your wounds and it makes you hiss— he almost winces at the sound, but you're not sure.

you don't understand why he's doing this. how can he hurt you and tend to your wounds at the same time? but then again, how can you hate him and let him do this to you at the same time too?

perhaps, you both are confused. you need someone to rely on, and he needs someone to need him. but neither of you know how to deal with the complications that come with your unconventional relationship, so you pretend it's normal. it's okay.

you look at him but he doesn't meet your gaze. you wish you could go back in time, or travel to another dimension. meet him under different circumstances. perhaps, that relationship would've been healthy. you clear your throat, and change the subject.

"you know, back in the hall," it hurts a little to talk, but you want to hear his voice, and you're desperate to talk about something. anything to end this silence. "before i was leaving to come to you, the old lady said something funny."

he stiffens at the mention of her, and you pretend not to notice. he doesn't glance at you as he cleans your knees, before placing a comforting palm on your thigh. he hums in question, gaze lowered.

"she called you my father," you chuckle slightly, your voice suddenly getting shaky, "isn't that funny? such a funny thing to assume."

he tenses at your words and clenches his jaw. his thumb rubs circles onto the skin of your thigh, before he lets out a small chuckle of his own— it sounds dry. he finally looks up at you— and you almost see a glimpse of your young-il in his eyes. you think he looks upset. you wonder if you offended him, and you consider apologizing, but he interrupts your train of thought.

"really?" he asks quietly, giving you a small smile. it's odd, engaging in casual conversation with him after the little fight you two just had. "well, with how many times i looked after you—"

"—you might as well be," you finish his sentence with a roll of your eyes, "yeah, i know."

he gives a soft, hearty laugh then, tapping your knee. "yeah." he trails off, voice getting quieter. distant. "might as well be."

his mind drifts off. if he hadn't been so late, his kid would've been around your age. perhaps, that's why he immediately grew protective of you during the games. perhaps, it was fate.

your gaze softens, face falling slightly. he looks distant again— like he's fighting a war within himself. you swallow the lump in your throat.

"i saw you that way at first, you know." you said quietly, blinking down at your lap. "you made me feel safe." and now all i feel is fear around you.

he looks at you wordlessly, gaze unreadable. he's thinking— reading you, but you can't do the same with him. he has way more experience at hiding his thoughts and expressions than you do. he's spent decades confined within these walls with people in masks being his only companions— he learned how to wear one himself. permanently. he wants to tell you that you're an open book to him— since the start.

"do i not anymore?" he questions instead, cocking his head to side. you roll your eyes, shoulders slumping as you shoot him an impassive glare.

"seriously?" you ask, voice obvious. it makes him smirk slightly, and he clenches his jaw to hide it.

he cups your face, pulls it up as he looks into your eyes. you don't say a word, simply glaring at him as he places a kiss upon your forehead.

"let me tell you," he quirks an eyebrow— a hint of a smile on his face as he squishes your cheeks, "no kid of mine would be a brat."

you scoff, pushing his hands off as you look away from him. he looks unbothered as he grabs you and puts you back down on the floor.

"i can do that myself, thanks." you huff, straightening your shoulders as you brush past him.

he grabs your hand, pulls you back towards him till you collide into his chest. he cups the side of your face, gently leaning down to rub your noses together. it almost leaves you breathless with how flustered you feel.

"would you rather i give you the silent treatment again?" his voice is unabashedly soft as he speaks. "you didn't like that last time."

your breath hitches, and your heart begins to race again. you clench your jaw before closing your eyes, releasing a shaky breath. you remember collapsing in his arms and crying your heart out when he gave you the silent treatment— being ignored by him hurt and made you feel alone in a way you hadn't felt in years.

you shake your head no.

he smiles. it's almost sinister. his eyes are still crinkly and he would look so utterly adorable to you before— but now, you know his intentions. you can tell when he's smiling only because he's hiding a different approach.

"then you'll behave, won't you?" he whispers, placing a soft kiss upon your lips. you blink rapidly before nodding again.

"good," he says quietly, softly tapping your cheek before letting go and composing himself. "i'll clean that mess up. go back to bed and take a nap, you must be tired after that little show."

you grit your teeth before shooting him a glare, and he merely blinks at you, amused, before you rush back to the bedroom.

he follows not long after, wearing only a black undershirt and his pants. you stare at him as he gently places a tray on your bedside table. you sit up, looking at it curiously. it's a cup of tea.

"for your throat," he explains softly with a pat to your head. the gesture makes your heart feel warm— and once again you start wishing you had met him under different circumstances where he didn't practically kidnap you. that way, your guilty conscience wouldn't berate you for desiring him so much, for being so comfortable around him.

he stands by his own side of the bed, fiddling with his wristwatch. you sit up properly and blow on the tea before drinking it, humming in appreciation. it's your favourite beverage.

he gets into bed soon enough, sighing to himself. you place the empty cup on the table and look off to the side, not wanting to meet his gaze, no matter how good he looks.

he says your name softly and you melt.

you look at him and he tenderly caresses your face with the back of his hand. you wish you could read his thoughts.

you swallow your pride and say what you've been thinking.

"why did you never apologize to me?"

his gaze hardens slightly and his hand pauses. you swallow hard as you await his answer.

"because i'm not sorry," he says calmly, "I don't regret anything i did."

you clench your jaw, "not even hurting me or my feelings?"

he chuckles a little— amused at your naivety, "I don't regret doing anything that brought you to me."

you blink at him before looking away. he forces you to meet his gaze by grabbing your chin.

"i don't regret anything," he repeats lowly, eyes intense. "as long as i get to have you."

"you hurt me." you whisper, voice cracking.

"i know." he nods, "you'll get over it. you're my brave girl, aren't you?"

you grit your teeth so hard you fear your jaw might snap. you glare at him, while he looks at you indifferently. wordlessly, he opens his arms and welcomes you into the comforting little space he created. you consider running off, defying him, breaking the tea cup and using the glass to threaten him or just killing yourself— anything.

bur you don't. like always, you succumb to him, and give up control. you eagerly crawl into his side and he holds your head against his chest. he pulls the sheets over the two of you and pecks your forehead.

"still don't feel safe?" he asks, almost teasingly. you can't believe he keeps trying to joke with you— he's cruel. you scoff, giving him a weak shove and he grabs your wrist and holds your palm against his chest. you can feel his heart beating. you wonder if yours beats this loud too.

you get comfortable a few moments after, and force yourself not to think about your life before the games. before him. you wonder if your family is happy, if they're wondering where you are. you wonder if your mother thinks you're dead, you wonder if she still prays for you. even if your family thinks you're dead, you hope they find happiness and move on from the thought of you. you hope they live a life of ease.

the thoughts make you sniffle and you hold back the urge to cry, burying your head further into his chest. he hums softly, patting your head almost paternally till you fall asleep, and only when he is completely sure that you're out of it, that he allows himself to close his eyes too.

and the next day, the cycle repeats.

A/N: another song title because i have no creativity... anyway this was meant to be a blurb but i ended up writing a glimpse into their relationship because i love them so much. and well.. the smut is mid but i hope you guys enjoyed it. thank you for reading and thank you for the support!! i love all of you.

tags: @bonelessghoul @cowuies @auspicious-lilana @politicstanner @verouys @gloriousjellyfisharcade @carolinevoight @shadowmoonlight0604 @ancrygurl @sunoon @jessgentleman @colorwastaken @loversroq @clown-around-and-find-out @popcorm @xcinnamonmalfoyx @robertthehoover @iloveoldermen0204 @kpopsmutty69 @iamkali @thebluehair23

SHARING’S CARIN’

FT. mikey + draken, sanzu + rindou, wakasa + senju, izana + kakucho

+ your girl’s mine too, yeah?

CW. threesomes. afab!fem!reader. cucking. fingering. creampie. squirting. blowjobs. degradation. slutshaming. cum eating.

AN. 18+, minors dni.

mikey & draken

“how is she?” chewing on some gum with loud smacks of his lips and a nonchalant glance over his friend’s shoulder, mikey’s dark eyes zoom in on draken’s fat cock thrusting into your tight cunt. he knew he’d like it—your pussy’s fucking divine—but there’s a churning in his stomach when he sees the way draken looks at you—the same way he looks at you.

“good—fuckin’ amazing.” draken grunts with each roll of his hips—what started as quiet and almost muted touches quickly became bold and frantic once he got a taste of your cunt that he’s been thinking of for god knows how many nights.

he’s been fucking you for hours, completely drowning in the feeling of emptying himself in you—fat tip bullying its way into your throbbing walls and his cream coated length disappearing into your squelching cunt with each desperate thrust. it’s annoying. while mikey agreed for a bit at first, that was before he started fucking his third load into you, cum seeping out each time he slips into you and stretches his pussy out.

“he’s not better than me, right?” mikey’s knees sink into the mattress and his hair fans over your face, tickling your skin while he cradles your face in his hands. don’t look at draken, look at him! “.. right?”

just as you’re about to answer, draken pushes your thighs up to your chest so he reaches impossibly deeper into you. loud, wanton moans fall from your lips with each smack of his balls against your ass. you squirm in mikey’s hold and he can’t help the glare he gives his second in command.

“don’t go getting jealous, now.” draken smirks at him before furiously rubbing at your clit and it’s disgusting how easily he gets you to squirt all over his pelvis, sprays of fluid sticking to his flexing abs with choked moans into mikey’s palms. “can’t help it when she’s squirtin’ all over you ..”

mikey clicks his tongue in irritation before getting up to slap at draken’s biceps. “move,” he palms at his wet underwear before pulling his twitching cock out with beads leaking out of the slit. “‘s my turn.” spitting his gum out, he grins when he hears draken huff in discontent and pull out—leaving your hole gaping, begging to be filled with his warm cum.

Keep reading

god i absolutely love gojo x reader x geto where reader gets dragged into whatever fucked up relationship they have going on wether that be from becoming a roommate, colleague, etc... like you realize you're in over your head after it's way too late and you've got two lovers now in love with you and you just have to accept it.

Wip... And sorry Ran 🤍

i like my men 6’3