Just A Vent Rant

finding solace 🌼

Heaven - N.K.

Synopsis. An aIpha? Please, your arranged husband was the perfect gentleman - soft, strong, shy to even look your way and- and damn feraI when he’s in rút?

Pairing. Nanami Kento x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! oméga! reader, secretly aIpha! Nanami, arranged marriage, OMÉGAVERSE AU, rúts, down bad Nanami, bréeding kínk, he’s FÉRAL, manhandIing, face-sítting (fem rec.), dúmbifícation, HEADLOCKS, making it fit, matíng presses, office s, breaking furniture, overstím, knots, matíng bites, cúmplay, very pússydrúnk Nanami, proposals, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.2k

A/N. BAD BOYS BRING HEAVEN TO YOUUU-

“Ijichi, I’m at the front desk- where’s everyone else?”

After marrying Nanami Kento, it wasn’t strange for you to become accustomed to visiting him at work - usually with one of your own business contracts, or a cute lil’ lunch for him and his bustling employees. 

But what was strange was the hollow, empty company lobby that greets you today. 

The reception, the cubicles, the elevator- you couldn’t find a single soul here other than you. Strange. 

“...e-evacuated.”

“What?” You’re furrowing your brows at the static squeak of a reply from your phone, footsteps echoing like thunder down the familiar pathway to the head office. Hissing– “Why? Is Kento okay-”

“M-more than okay, ma’am.” Your husband’s personal assistant scrambles out urgently, “He’s actually ah- y-you’ll see what I mean…” As Ijichi rapidly ends the call with its beeping tone, your hands brush the looming steel doors of Nanami’s office. 

What the hell did he mean? Fingers itching to just open–

And that’s when you smell it. Sweet.

Oh. 

Oh…fuck.

The single, slivering waft of fragrance rams into you like five semi-trucks and leaves you reeling- needily grappling for the door handle when your knees knock together and weaken. Holding on for dear life, “Wh-what the…”

And there was your first mistake, accidentally - or perhaps subconsciously - stealing a deep, breathy inhale of the saturated air seeping from underneath Nanami’s looming office door. 

It fills your lungs and makes you jolt. Makes you gasp at the fever of your body, drinking in even more, more, more—

Your tongue sizzles with a fresh syrupy layer of drool at the musky cologne of it, more heady than any other perfume you’d ever smelt. More expensive. Like the filthiest marriage between bourbon, underlying caramel, and something so-

-so Nanami. In…rut?

But wait, your hazy eyes widen, and you’re forced to shake your head clear enough to continue the thought. It was the smell of an alpha no matter how much you looked at it - this couldn’t be your husband, right?

Sure, you two had been married for a few months already - but the man hadn’t even kissed you let alone touched you to consummate the marriage, yet. 

Hell, you still found his chiselled cheekbones tinting with a light veil of pretty red whenever you simply smiled at him.

Always adorning those scent patches to cover his pheromones, and never letting out a word of his secondary gender. Though, your husband always did make sure to tend to your every need during your heats - every need except those, that is.

Perhaps it was as unconventional of a marriage as could be - what with both your parents choosing to merge companies through familial bonds, but you didn’t know that Nanami was an alpha.

An alpha.

The words clang through your very bones and send sparks of electricity skittering down your spine, you’re squeezing your trembly thighs together only to find that they’d started dampening with a shiny sheen of slick already.

Oh- so this is why everyone in the company was hastily evacuated. 

He was potent.

And he was aching for your touch– your skin hums with something sinful as you rap your knuckles on the door, and try not to utter a peep.

“Ijichi, I already told you to leave.”

That didn’t sound like your husband.

It sounded like anything but; a low, curdling growl of husky baritone that made your heart race stupidly fast. There was something so primal seeping into Nanami’s characteristically gentle voice - never raised, never sharpened at you.

But right now he sounded like he would’ve devoured you alive. 

And you wanted to see it.

.

.

.

Nanami knew he shouldn’t be here- fuck, he shouldn’t have let it gone this far.

But one flutter of your lashes - just one gorgeous smile you’d sent his way this morning - and he found himself like this. Shit, he hadn’t even kissed you yet, and you already drove him wild.

One hand furiously pumping his rock- no, diamond-hard cock, the other digging into his drawer for more of those damn suppressants as if searching for a lifeline. 

“C’mon.” He’s grunting, crumpled forehead beading with glittery sweat the longer his aching, swollen length throbbed in the clouded air. Looking through his unruly golden bangs, his sensory tips scour desperately, “C’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon-”

Only to pop one of the last prescription bottles open and find it fucking empty. 

“Fuck!” Nanami’s throat decorates with a knot of veins as his plump, blushed tip leaks with yet another thick clump of precum. He needed you, and no amount of creeping his rugged palms up n’ down his girthy shaft would ever come close to how you might have done it.

How he dreams it.

Boiling hot ears popping as the fat of his thumb roams over his bawling divot to plug it up, he barely even hears the office door opening and slamming shut.

He loosens his tie and tries not to muddy his senses with the smell of the beta man, taking everything in Nanami to not just snap– “Ijichi- I f-fucking said-”

“Don’t even recognize your wife, Kento–?”

Nanami snaps his head up, eyes wide. Glazed. 

And you think it takes him a full few seconds to register that it was actually you here and not some lecherous figment of his imagination.

Although you were starting to doubt that he was, too. 

Such a sexy picture with his favorite blue shirt unbuttoned, pants unzipped just enough, one of his hands white-knuckling the glinting ‘CEO NANAMI’ table nameplate.

But what really drew your eyes was his massive cock - all hard n’ swollen and aching, the prettily rounded top cherry-pink. Right about nine or ten inches of bulky girth pulsing so hard that even you could see it from this distance. 

Oh…he really did have big dick energy.

And he was drooling - drooling, you never thought you’d see the day where Nanami Kento drools - through great heaving gusts of gulps. His voice croaks out huskily as if disused for eons, “M-my love, why a-are you…”

Ah, it feels like your satiny blouse clings to you even tighter with Nanami’s rough tonality. And it takes everything in you to stop yourself from taking even a step closer like the betweens of your legs ached to, “Ken.”

“O-oh.” He’s immediately throwing his head back with a groan- and you don’t know where to ogle. The way his slightly plumpened lips drop with a drawled drag of your name, or the way that he’s lifting over a hand to cradle the globed top of his mushroom head to stop himself from cumming.

Failing. 

His teeth gleam with slobber, ripping viciously into one of his forearms in an instant – hot crimson trickling out ever-so-slightly. 

The attractive column Nanami’s throat bobs with the movements of his Adam’s apples as he simply pours out sultry streaks of cum. Creamy white stripes upon stripes that start dangling all the way from his sturdy wrist down to the puffy leather of his seat. Bucketloads, really.

And you find your mouth almost as wet as the sappy puddle leaking through his business suit, opening to-

“Don’t.” He’s rasping out, slouching his body forward to cover his adoring view of you - as if the mere sight of you would be enough to send him over the edge once more. Octaves higher, crazed. “Don’t s-say my name like that.”

Your goosebumps peek at the tremble in his bass, a strange thrill sprinting through your body. Experimentally, you’re exhaling out, “Ken.”

“Fuh-fuck.”

And through the cervices of his thick, wrapped digits, you’re catching the sight of that buttery mess of cum grow even more voluminous. Squeezing a few more filthy dredges out of him - truly from the way you said his name.

“You- you’re evil, darling.” He’s heaving out in strained syllables, body hunched over to pressurize his still-throbbing erection. 

The cracked corner of Nanami’s dewy eyes hone in on you as you slowly - uncertainly - take a step closer. And ever-so-sensually, he cranes over to beckon you with one of his stray hands, “C’mere, my wife.”

Shit, you couldn’t make your way over fast enough.

And he’s snickering something gruff underneath his breath the few times you’re tripping over your own unsteady feet. 

Your clammy palms eventually stick on either side of his plastic chair, and the towering man gladly manspreads to provide your hips with a place to rest on. Straddling his meaty thighs - that aching red cock between them - with your hands curling ‘round his perspired neck.

The scent of his pheromones were so thick here that it was leaving your mind pathetically dizzy, all expensive cologne and caramel sweetness for you.

“S’this okay?” He’s hissing through a snarling bite of his lower lip once your snug pencil skirt hikes up just enough to snaggle the globed curve of Nanami’s cockhead. 

“Kento-” You decide to go easy on him just this once. Raising a hand to just start peeling that scent patch you usually had on during a workday, “-why don’t you let me help, baby–?”

One calloused hand comes to stop you right in your tracks, the flat of his doughy thumb coming to caress your wrist gently back n’ forth. And not only was Nanami burning hot - he was scalding, heat radiating off of him in waves. “Because…if I start now m’gonna hah- break you, my love.”

Oh.

Oh, fuck. So that was why - and looking into the molten peripherals of his stare, you’re realizing that that was why he’d avoided every kiss, every touch, every heat.

But seated and with him at your mercy like this, you hadn’t ever wanted anything more.

“What if…” You hum suggestively, bottom lip pouting out in a way that makes him collar drench with sweat. Pushing back with a roll of your hips that sets Nanami’s pearly whites on edge, murked breath drifting against his ears, “-I didn’t mind, Ken?”

And one of his hands has to clasp around the corner of his mahogany desk until it shatters, splinters of wood hitting the floor with a dull thud! thud! thud! that synchronizes with your heartbeat.

“Do- do you know what you’re asking?” He’s graveling out between pants. 

“I do.” 

And Nanami Kento will never know whether it was the way you’d echoed those two words directly from your wedding, or the way your gorgeous eyes shined with such need - but he’s never found himself moving faster. Swifter. 

So feral when he’s slipping you off his lap and shoving you down onto the sleek, frigid surface of the desk in two precise flaps of your lashes.

“Oh–!” Your shocked lips let off sweetly once Nanami’s soft palm cushions your face, he didn’t let you feel a single ounce of the striking impact of being laid out all on your front. 

Not a single thing except for the burn of your scent patch being pulled off of you with his sluggish fingers. Leaning down so his straight nosebridge hits the crook of your neck and sniffs– savoring—

“Fuck. Fuck.” Your husband spills out gutturally into your skin, and you feel the sharpened edges of his teeth coasting nibbles down your throat. He was pushed into you so close that he could practically taste your sweetly candied fragrance, “My wife…my omega–”

You’re thinking that he probably doesn’t even realize the way he’s rutting and rutting his hips repeatedly into yours, flinching bodily at even the slightest recoil that has Nanami’s curvaceous bulge breaking off even mere inches from your sodden panties. 

The wailing whimpers escaping you are so adorable that he just can’t help but suckle his mouth down your own. 

And it’s not the first kiss with Nanami that you might’ve expected - it’s sloppy, wet, and nothing more than the lazy drag of his unfastened mouth tasting like his favorite gummy. Slapping his tongue along the splattered speckles of saliva homing themselves near the edges of your lips, “So sweet- soooo much fuckin’ sweeter than I ngh- dreamt.”

Before you can ask what that meant, he’s humming along a few more wet slurps of French kisses. Leaving your lips tingling for more as he pecks down, down, down back to your swollen scent glands.

“Wanna know- why I- bought a candle that smells like- mmm honey, darlin’?” He’s whispering against that sensitive patch of skin, watching as your half-opened eyes dart to the inconspicuous candle that was always settled on top of his desk. “Because it reminded me of you-”

But Nanami wasn’t done- oh, he wasn’t done.

You could almost feel the intensity of his leering grin quivering up at the edges, your restlessly squirming hips being pinned down with his tense core. 

“-and…” He’s letting his strained voice peter away into nothingness. 

Biting down on the salivating insides of his cheeks, Nanami pushes his sagging glasses up to take a good, looong final look at the way you’re so prettily splayed out for him like this. 

Before bending at the knees–

“-and her.”

You’re just about to ask your husband what he meant when he shows you exactly what he meant. 

Diving in completely nose-deep to gift your clothed pussymound with a loving peck, the very tip of Nanami’s pert button nose shines with a beaded dollop of your slick. Slipping and travelling all down to where he glides his tongue along his lips greedily–

“K-Kento–” You hiccup out as his hypnotic scent grows twofold, the very hits of it targeting your very core. 

“Oh.” Nanami moans at the feeling of you instinctively getting wetter ‘round his mouth, you were so sensitive for him that your saturated lips were already rendering your panties see-through. A sappy drivel of sweet, sweet juices slicking your thighs like glue, “Darling, you’re droolin’ e-everywhere.”

The very crown of his index comes to trace the snaking rivers of slick decorating your legs, sensually. Signing off the cutest hearts and ‘K’s where you were the most tender-

“S’this for me?” He’s tap-tap-tapping his generous digit on the folds of your leaking pussy, tittering when you jolt with every lurid contact. “Pretty girl, are ya this- hck! wet for me?” 

Just then he leaves a full-handed, five-fingered spank straight down your slippery slit - ripping out the rawest, most moistened sluuuurp–! of gushing sap from your core. And Nanami takes this as the perfect answer, “Mhm, you are.”

“P-please, baby-”

“That’s it that’s it—” He’s nuzzling your thighs now - as if he was worshipping you. Scorched breezes of his mouth hitting you from just a few centimeters away, his glands rub up against your body and leave you completely smelling like his. You feel his drool smear as he babbles on, “-tell me. Talk to me.”

Your hips buck helplessly, “Want- want you to touch me there, Kento.”

“Where?” He knows- fuck, he knows. But he needs to hear the words directly from your beautiful mouth.

And ah, what a sight it is to be able to see them from up on his knees - twisting and puckering around the words of “Want you to touch my ngh- pussy-”

Barely out of your mouth, barely even formulated before Nanami surges up his humid face and snogs right up into your dripping cunt. 

Mazing tip dragging away the flimsy, useless scrap of fabric you call your panties, he’s treating the pursed lips of your pussy like a lollipop. Skimming the ridges of his tastebuds riiiight along your slope and back, “So- so hot on my tongue- ngh. So sweet.”

It’s like a mantra he’s spitting out every time his pointed chin whacks the tippy-top base of your cunt, your neck flaring with rays of pheromones that make Nanami grunt.

Jaw unfastening, his mouth drips open with the gluey remnants of your sap. “Can you ngh- feel it?” Opened wide enough that you could feel his hot maw engulfing all of you - every ribbony ounce of slick that puddled at the back of his throat. “Feel me- hah, can’t fucking get enough.”

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, Ken–” Your head dangles back, clawing towards the distant end of his table to hold onto your sanity. “-m-more.”

“More…m-more?”

Fuck- you didn’t realize that Nanami was this pussydrunk. 

His husked baritone was lilting sooo much higher in volume and pitch that it made your head all fuzzy just to consider who this was. 

Hell, the man has to nip his teeth ‘round a frilly edge of your underwear and bite so that he can keep it all together. Right palm creeping back down, down to his aching cock-

And the other one of his hands paws depravedly at the plush of your dampened thighs to keep them open, he huffs out a breath into your glossy fluttering lips. “More…my wife wants more.” And it hurt- ohhh, it hurt him so much to move himself even the tiniest distance away from where he was closest to your teary pussy.

Declaring a temporary goodbye with a prolonged sniff at the saccharine scent of your entrance, he’s craning his heavy head back up to you. “Spit.”

Your breath catches, inner omega crooning. “Wh-what?”

“Spit.” And before you know it, a hand darts out to smush your puffed cheeks easily together. The mean ovals of his sensory tips digging into your flesh, it’s enough to make you whine. “Spit in my mouth, my love.”

Slowly, stupidly you do - right smack-dab onto the wide plane of Nanami’s tongue and it makes him groan, hands squeezing ‘round his drenched base.

A thin line of it overspills from the side of his lips; and your husband’s crooning coaxingly at you to wrench open your slick-stucken legs further open before he gifts a steady wad of saliva over your sloppy hole.

Brushing his thumb over the lines of juices that stick to your panties, Nanami bites the edges of his glinting teeth into the side and riiiiips–! it off of you in a nanosecond. 

“K-Ken, what are you- oh mmpf–!” 

You’re mewling, pearly tears shattering your vision just as soon as his plump, velvety lips immediately latch to your clit and suck. The handsome hollows of his cheeks cushioning your sensitive bundle of nerves, it’s all it takes for you to throw your head back and clench.

“Open- need these legs hah- open-” He’s hissing into your cunt, the vibrations of his voice making your poor clit buzz. And shit, does Nanami enjoy the viscid globs of slick this makes you let out, pumping his vein-covered shaft angrily.

“Can’t–” Your moans were his favorite song, coloring the tips of his ears all innocently pink. “-can’t even feel my n-ngh legs!”

Cooing from down under, “Awww, need me to h-hold ‘em, my wife?” It’s only a few roaring heartbeats before you feel one of his palms shuffle underneath your knees to keep them pliably steady. Scuttling you further down his table- “S’alright, s’alright m’here.”

“K-Kento.”

“Tha’s riiiight, Kento’s here.” Suddenly your hit with a wave of relaxing pheromones once the very rounded berry tip of his digit comes rovering across your outer pussy. Collecting shimmering gumdrops of slick to plop into his mouth, “Kento’s here- so be a good girl n’ let your husband take care of it allll, darlin’.”

He’s swivelin’ the chilling band of his wedding ring around your rubbery hole, stretching and stretching until you’re gulping down every solid inch. 

And if Nanami’s fingers were this long n’ girthy, it made your mouth water to think of how long he might be down there.

“Oh- you’re so g-good, can feel you in so so deep.”

Nearly five or six inches probing your gummy walls all the way down to his pointed knuckles, you hiccup every time his perfectly manicured fingernail scraped the mushy patch of your g-spot. “Please- please, baby- J-just a lil’ more.”

“Fuck! Gonna be the d-death of me…” His breath tickles the crevice of your bloated pussylips, the slimy fringe of his tongue wanders over with a last few rolls on top of your hooded clit. Sticking right where you were bulging with his barreling finger to bully dually inside, “Gonna- gonna.”

And he’s stretching you out with both his tongue and a second finger.

Pulling your soft hole taut around the circumference of both eager appendages, Nanami bustles just a few inches of his fingers inside before he curls them into the roof of your cunt and makes you yelp.

“S-so close—” Your words come out botched through tears and whines and your cunt, “Wan’ you to h-hit it- oh my god, please.”

A fatly syrupy dewdrop of sap treacles out of you, which Nanami spits out gladly back into where you were leaking the most. “H-heh, she’s talkin’.” Squelch after squelch after squelch drawn out every time he’s crashing his tongue to tug your snug channel even wider. He’s even slowing down the filthy fapping motions of his hand just to hear you louder. “Sh-she’s talking t’me- ngh! Oh, hellooo– ya want me to t-touch this g-spot, my wife?” 

You’re bubbling out spitballs of answers but all of it is drowned out by every waterlogged pump - more like thrashes. Hits piled upon hits that leave your velvety walls all bruised with the circular outlines of his two, no, now three rummaging fingerpads. 

“S’that right, hmm–?” Not even talking to you at this point - but with your pussy. He nods his unsteady, blushing features, “Y-you want me to oh…”

Just then, his fingers are so lengthy that Nanami accidentally cruises a direct hit to your g-spot without even trying. 

It makes your heated insides squeeze around his digits, laminating every patch of skin from rotund fingertip to pale knuckles with all your frothy juices. Head tumbling back, “Th-there. There there there- Ken–!”

“Here- here.”

He’s rasping out with every breath, every whack into the tenderized area where your g-spot was targeted. Pumping and pumping- shit, Nanami’s so gone on your pussy that he’s letting go of his pulsating shaft to latch onto your hips and make you grind back into his face.

In long, slobbering drags that rub your folds raw on his attractive features, his broad chest wheezes after every one of your swervin’ gyrations. 

You clench your legs, ruffling the strands of his usually-tide blond hair, and he’s only pushing your thighs together snugger. Grunting throatily, “Don’t even need hah- air when I’ve got her.”

“I-I’m close–” You’re trilling out, your nails digging deeply into the firm wood of the table. “Not gonna- ngh- last.”

“S’that sooo—” Already feeling the curve of his sleazy grin on your swollen lips, it’s as if he now can’t decide between flopping his tongue inside to tugging your perked, pretty clit. “S’she sayin’ the ngh- same thing?” Planting a particularly harsh thrust of his fingers to make your cunt quiver with a slurp, “She is. Cum f’me then- cum all over my face, darlin’.”

And you don’t just cum, you’re making such a mess.

Your hips twistin’ to push back and ride the sharp ridge of Nanami’s nose back and forth back and forth back and forth. Every snaggling catch of his fingers on your g-spot makes your toes arch adorably, your sweat-simmered spine following. 

“M’cum- hngh- fuck! M’cumming, Ken.”

“H-heh, I knowww–” Nanami feels his chubby tip twitch at the use of that lil’ nickname again, weighty balls pulsing to the very same rhythm as your cunt was right now. He’s letting out a carnal voicing of your name as he hits your g-spot deeply. “-she told me, my love.”

Ears popped, you’re barely even catching his lecherous words. The mosaic of your vision blotching with pure stars like they did in cartoons, heavy tears coating your cheeks. It just felt too good. 

And, ah, just because you’d reached your waves of bliss - was riding through those peaks upon peaks of euphoria with every passing second - didn’t mean that Nanami was going to stop.

In fact, he’s throwing his free hand tighter around your waist and pinning you dead-on onto his face, the lashing tip of his tongue drawing out more n’ more zips of white-hot electricity from your core. He was still eating you out like a man starved. 

Rendering you speechless, you cry– “Wait- wait wait wait, I-I’m so sensitive.”

“Good.”

Purposefully murmured with his spit-slicked lips wrapped precisely ‘round your throbbing clit, you’re pounding your fist down on top of the office table until its hinges ricket. 

Bang! Bang! Bang! 

Until it stops just as soon as it started when Nanami catches the knob of your clit with his sharpened canines and bites. And then you shriek, then you see white, then you’re squirting - right down onto your husband who gapes. 

“I-it feels so wet.”

“Go on—” He’s coaxing the torrenting sprays out of you with every curled thrash of his fingers, grinning. Wild. “Go on go on go on, make a mess. M-make a mess f’me.”

Splashing right onto the apples of his cheekbones, he’s flapping his eyes half-shut so that you’re drenching him all your juices. 

Your maw slacking open as your second orgasm is pulled out of you, body wracking with sensitivity, “Please- p-please.” Your glassy pupils swirl in the exact dumbified circles as he was tracing on your clit, “-Ken.” 

But even that special name of his doesn’t reel Nanami Kento out of his stupor. 

He’s so pussydrunk, so addicted to making out with every squirting splosh of your pussy that he’s overstimulating you stupid. Slurping it up in viscid, eloooongated noises which ring across all four walls and into the pheromone-fogged air. 

He thinks he could cum from this, he’s so close to cumming from just this.

Seemingly forever before Nanami leaves a final slap! of the flat underside of his mushy wet muscle on your leaking slope. Cheeks hollowing with a final sluuuuuurp–!

At least, it was meant to be final. 

But even as he’s unlatching himself, the alpha can’t bring himself not even six inches away from your spilling pussy before he presses back in with a pained growl. Snarl bared, eyes drooping- once. Twice. Thrice. 

“Can’t- can’t-” He’s rumbling out, smoky, and you sense his scent start to grow addicted all over again. Lurching you with a thorough repeated tugs to smooch your cunt some more, Nanami emits a narrowed breath through every kiss. “Can’t move- ngh- fuck.”

“Kentooo—” Your lips flap with the salted flavor of your own tears, trying (and failing) to move onto your tip-toes and remove yourself from your husband’s relentless mouth. Head turned to him, “I-I want you to fuck me, baby.”

And Nanami flinches. Breathing out a ragged, “T-to what?”

You’re blinking your tears back from your dilated irises, lips almost too wobbly to drag out the words. “To fuck- mmpf–!”

SLAM!

You don’t know if the thundering noise is from the way you’re slammed horizontally back onto your front, or the way that Nanami smashes his open palm down right beside your lolling head. 

Fingertips twitching, yearning for but a single graze of your face. You’re left helpless as all his Herculean muscles come pinning down your greedy body - firmer and firmer until he’s practically melting into you.

He was so big. 

All eight mounds of his washboard abs peeking through his torn button-up and sliiiiding down your spine. Hips pressing down on hips, scent glands brushing against yours. You still had your thin satin blouse on, and yet you could count each n’ every hammer of his roaring heartbeat.

“Watch what you s-say.” Nanami warns, the points of his teeth nibbling along where your perfume was emanating out in clouds and bursts. Needy needy needy. 

And so pretty.

“Wh-why?” You huff out, barely given the opportunity to even think of pouting until Nanami seemingly reads your mind and sinks his own teeth into the flesh. Draaaaagging. 

“Because-” Faintly, you’re feeling one of his hands straily lumber down to where his ravaged cock was sobbing. The stout end of his knobbled thumb comes to plug up his leaking orifice as Nanami’s teeth scrape your throat. Lips pulled into a snarl, “-m’got gonna fuck you like a gentleman, my wife.”

His words were dangerous. Savage. 

Looking the part, too; flushed, intense eyes all half-lidded, curtained partly by his thick blond bangs. And Nanami was glistening with the wettened remnants of your juices, all the way from the blushing apples of his cheeks to drip! drip! drip! in a translucent polish down his sharp jawline.

For the moment, you and your omega are almost rendered soundless - almost. 

“Prove it, Ken.”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Nanami doesn’t know whether it’s the rut or those words or simply you that make his heavy, fat cock flinch in one hand. That makes him throw his head back with a groan, that makes him grind his hips deeper into yours as he cums–

“Move this-” His trembling fingers clutch urgently around where your skirt was still hanging off of your hips. Well, not for long before he’s tearing it clean off. And then follows your blouse, your bra. “Move.”

Right in time for the glittering folds of your pussy to be showered in a thick topping of his creamy white seed. The pointed mound of his tip is frosting out such candied knots of sap that cling to your leaky pussylips - so much.

You’re whimpering at the scalding hot cum that sploshes down the rim of your entrance, dripping. Leaking. “Ken- o-oh my god did you just–”

“Shut up-” He’s snarling out, trying to muffle out the animalistic tonality in his voice but fuck, does he fail. You’re turning him into more of a damn beast than a man with the way your parched pussy quavers to swallow up his glossy droplets.

One of his stocky fingers come up to smear the webbed mess of it on your outer cunt and push it in– “Shut up n’ take it. S’all y-yours anyway, darlin’.”

Before you can untrap your maw from the substantial gloopy-like texture of your spittle, Nanami slouches his weight over your squirming body. Massive, veiny hands rested on either side of your head, he sliiiiides his still-agitated, rock-hard length between your puffed-up folds. 

Making sure you feel every single one of his zig-zagging veins from reaching from his tawny golden happy trail down to where he was pinpricking your clit with his thickset cockhead. Over and over.

“All of it.” Nanami whispers eventually, as your driveling hole oils his girth with enough layers of sap that it oozes down onto the office floor. 

His sweltering pants making your bodyhairs stand on end, you shiver a single one of his palms slither down to cup your tummy. Somewhere along the way, he draws a burning invisible line about halfway across your body. 

And you’re not granted even the chance to ask what he’s seemingly measuring out before a stubby, splittening caress between your jittery legs makes you see stars.

“All- all- of it s’ngh yours– s’got your n-name on it. Yours.” Nanami’s keening out with a raspy tone above the sloppy squelches that immediately start pouring out of your wet pussy. Restraining a firm grip on the curve of your hips to hold you still while he reels back and pushes and pushes– “Every. Single. Inch.”

He was so big that he was spearheading you with every single of his ten inches, too.

Pushing your eyes all the way to the backs of your head with the spheroid crown of his fat, bulbous tip. Every tiny buck makes you streeeeetch around the incredible roundness of his circumference, rubbin’ and rubbin’ your drooling entrance with his veiny shaft.

“Heh, we’re consummatin’ our marriage, my wife.”

“O-oh my–” Your mindlessly squealing pitch breaks, squeezing your silky walls to hug his head. “-it’s so- it’s so.”

“With ngh- just the tip, huh, my love?”

And as cute as it was that you’re pushing back and trying to run away from his relentless pursuit, Nanami doesn’t have the patience right now.

Just barely hanging on with enough sanity to dig his hand thoroughly enough to bruise your poor hips, the slicked sweat of his palm dampening your skin. “Wh-whaaat–?” With a quick, shocking spank on the right side of your ass cheek, he’s traaaawling you over like you were nothing but a pretty lil’ toy. “S’it to h-hah big?”

“It- it’s so…”

You were already proving his point without even speaking. He was just so big that his core flexes with sharp, jutting strikes just to fit inside you, hissing with every recoiling resistance of your tight entrance.

You’re moaning ridiculously after every pulverizing glide that makes his probing cockhead push even deeper. A sliver of sweat trickles down the side of Nanami’s temple and hits your back in a splat!

Darting up onto your unsteady elbows, you restlessly try to fuck back into his ruthless cadence. “Please- please, baby. More.”

He tilts your face up to scorch it with a few promises, “I’ve got it- Kento’s got you.” Smacking a hand ‘round your arched throat - manhandling you into a fucking headlock, your husband urges you to sink your teeth into his heated flesh.

“Bite. Bite n’ you’re gonna take more, m’kay?” Nanami’s whispering out like a mantra, pulling you to crash your lips with his own stern ones. “Like a good girl- like my g-good girl.” His other arm softly thumbing along the outlined tummy bulge he was fucking into you, “More more more more more- Want more- y-you’re gonna get it- ohhh, you’re gonna get it.”

The sudden change in angle makes the stinging mounds of your ass hit Nanami’s sharp pelvis with a sharp thwack! Bottoming out. 

“Good girl.” He utters, sounding like a man crazed. The sensitive skin of your glands roast with a lazy lick, cold metal of his glasses slipping down until they kiss your skin. “O-ohhhh good giiiirl l-look at you taking it like a- like a champ. Kissin’ me from th-the inside, my omega.”

And the only thing you can moan are softly gasping ohs! and yes! again and again as his bulging biceps tighten around your neck, pounding the goopy ends of your cunt with a firm hit.

All with swollen, long inches. 

Nanami was so fucking massive that he was kissin’ your sweetest, most tender spots without even trying. Just the massage of his plumply swollen veins over them make your mouth slobber, counting in your head each lightning bolt - about eight of them.

And Nanami? Nanami was falling apart.

He was slurring out mix n’ matches of syllables that resembled your name every time your heavenly, hot innards were clenching around his capped crown like a vice. 

“Y-you feel so good, Ken.” You’re calling out as his toned hips position underneath your ass cheeks to push against you until you were almost dangling in midair. “In s-soooo deep.”

“Yeah? Yeah?” He’s wheezing out with a speckling pinpricks of cum from before and a few fresh spurts swashing all over your base. Your knees buckle as he hooks his chin over your shoulder and presses in, “Keep those p-pretty eyes open, okay, my love? Wanna see you watch- ngh- watch me fill ‘er up, m’kay?”

It’s all you can do to nod to his crazed whims, darting your eyes down to where Nanami was pushing on the base of your spine to make you arch curvaceously.

Straining against the swollen flex of his biceps, oh, you were burnishing his tannish skin with gluey flecks of drool. Stupidly babbling, oh-so-dumb on his massive size. “Wh-where–?”

“Here-” He thwacks his mushy, ruby-red tip in a splurge against your g-spot, “Here- here- and here.” Three repeated times to make you lose your mind just as much as he was, “S’yours. All yours, my wife.”

“All mine. Ngh– mine, Ken.” You echo, your vision blurring at the sheer force that he was pushing into these thrusts. Hell, his own bulked hilt was rubbing raw and red with the slamming impacts.

“Yeah take it. Take it, aaaatta girl.”

His pace was filthy - it was feverish. Head drooping, eyes shuttering.

And a slimy winding river of slobber was starting to fall from Nanami’s curved grin every time he’s getting so fucking drunk on your pussy. Body scorching, neck aching for you to take him take him take him–

“Kento- oh!”

It only takes two accurate swings of his grip to flip you laid onto your back when his veiny cock pulled out.

Important documents fluttering about, this time you’re getting a goood look at Nanami Kento, your husband.

Glasses completely fogged and dangling, his drenched-through shirt barely hanging off of his broad shoulders, pants discarded somewhere along the line to bare you with the sheeny expanse of his muscular thighs. Nothing of the gentleman you once knew.

Thick clumps of saliva spatter as he cranes his head down to you and growls, glassy hazel eyes at you through the rare gaps in his blond bangs. 

Your inner omega simply purrs at the glinting sharpness of his elongated fangs, the sensitive splotches on your neck stinging with the primal urge to be bitten.

Nanami’s nose crinkles at the oversaturation of sweet, sweet pheromones, his own coming out in response. And a generous helping of saliva ribbons out onto your front with a splat! splat! splatter! and he only adds to the sleek mess by slapping his weighty, extended length between your pussylips and gawking as creamy pre puddles. 

Scratching out, “M’gonna fuck ya pregnant, darlin’. Just s-say the ngh- word.”

“Kento-” Boneless arms slipping around his burning neck and lugging his hulking body even closer, “-please.”

And that’s all it takes.

All it takes for something in Nanami to snap. All it takes for him to hastily align his leaking mushroomed tip with your trembling hole and ram you full all the way to your cervix again. Cratering a French kiss there, deep.

So big that he was digging into every adhesive-slicked mass of your walls, probing and probing until your snug cunt was pulled to your limits. 

To your whining impatience, he doesn’t move immediately - instead, you jaw gapes as he’s taking the time to lean down and kiss that round, cylindrical tummy bulge he was fucking into you. Soft lips skittering right over where his bulged tip was hitting, “M’gonna m-make you round n’ glowing, my omega.”

Before you know it, rugged palms slither down the underside of your thighs and fold you like a lawnchair. And into- fuck, a mating press.

A mating press.

The realization seems to strike Nanami at the very moment it strikes you - even though he was literally the one manhandling you into this pliable position. The dimples on his chin quivering as if he couldn’t fucking believe he had his lil’ wife bent like this for him.

And the base of his thickened cock swells. Close. 

All the breath leaving his full lungs, “S-so pretty.” Every syllable followed by a harsh plap! of skin-on-clammy-skin. Every syllable. He holds your thrashing legs easily apart, “So pretty a-and wet n’ m’gonna make her even wetter. Wanna make her full- make her…oh.”

“Sh-shit–” You can palpably feel yourself growing even more damp at the way his chiselled, sharp muscles move and tense with each thrust. A hand moving down–

“Move that fuckin’ hand.”

It wasn’t even a command, and yet you find yourself hurrying to listen. 

Watching with bated breath as his smoggy, pussydrunk eyes rest on the copious glittering droplets of slick escaping your bulged pussylips, even past his girth. And he only smiles- “S’th-this f’me, darlin’? Alllll f’me–?” Greedily licking his lips, he gropes your tits. “This turns- hah! turns ya on, huh? Getting bred?”

Squealing, “Y-yessss– wan’ it so bad- want you so bad, Kento, please.”

“Hmm…boy or girl?”

“Wh-what?” 

He’s only leaning down to rasp more gruffly against your eardrums, a behemoth of his palm patting down on the jiggling pouch inflating into your tummy. “Boy or girl?”

“G-girl.” You’re whimpering out mindlessly, pulse thundering even faster at the brilliant grin that splits across Nanami’s face. 

“Mmm– was thinkin’ th-the exact same.” And that wasn’t just the rut talking. Nanami treks a hand to gift your clit with a pinch and chuckles darkly as you flinch, “Easy- easy there.” Still not letting up, still hugging every inch of his throbbing cock on your cunt. “Guess I’ll be the ngh- strict parent then, hm?”

And the zaps of electricity rushing to your brain are too much, his cadence, his pheromones - his rut. It’s all so much that with only a few more vulgar strikes to your battered, bruised g-spot your mouth gulps a dumbstruck “K-Ken, I’m–”

Not even getting out the sentence before you arch your back into a geometrical semi-circle and throw yourself into your nth high of the night.

The edges of your vision tinging with black, it’s all you can do to claw your nails in red, red trailways down Nanami’s muscular back. Feeling every muggily glissading muscle as he pounded you into the desk through every blissful peak.

“Ngh- o-oh, my l- fuck. Fuck fuck fuck–!” Nanami’s voice takes on a whiny tinge at the feeling of your scalding hot insides molding around his pillaging shaft. So tight that he had to bite his lip and push down on your tummy to pull out after every paced thrust. “S-shooo soft.”

Orgasm feeling like nothing more than tingles, your vision tinges like a black vignette once you’re ogling up at Nanami’s pretty, pretty face. “Ken- Ken”

He’s rubbing a heart over your sparking clit with love, “Yes, my love–?”

“Want it i-inside, Ken.” Mindlessly, your inner omega spurs you to teeth over the tense muscles of his neck - over that particular spot. Walls massaged raw every second, “Want you t-to cum all i-insiiide-”

“Patience.” It’s all he says before rovering his hand somewhere above your head on the flat table and grasping his favorite lucky yellow tie. 

Before you can blink your tear-stained lashes, he loops it twice over your neck and ties - dragging you back with a simple pull of his bulky biceps. You look so pretty n’ helpless like this that he can’t help but feel his mouth water, spitting the excess between your kiss-swollen lips. 

“P-promise not to miss?” 

“Never. Wh-what did I tell you- s’all sh’alllll yours.”

Slurring. He couldn’t even speak properly - barely even breathing - before snapping his hips to yours so close that your tender pussymound scratches with his soaked-through tufts of tawn. Once. Twice. Before Nanami collapses on top of you and cums—

Your knees hitting your tits, legs shoved over his shoulders, ass stinging at the shaky jackhammer.

“T-taaake it. Take it n’ get p-pregnant. Get pregnant get pregnant get pregnant–” He whispers as thick, steamy hot cum starts pooling all the way into what feels like your gut. “Want it. Need it.”

Aching, swollen, almost painful sparks of white-hot pleasure running down his spine once he’s slamming a capped knee on top of the table and angling himself to pound and pound. 

“Ngh- s-so much–” Your hips thrash, lungs heaving with the weight of his happy caramel scent. “-so much so- fuck.”

He spits into your hanging open mouth. “Ohh m’gonna make a mess of you.” And as he rests his towering body closer on top of yours, you can feel the way Nanami’s meaty thighs tremble delicately with every shooting jetstream of cum spraying inside your deepest parts. The fingers toying with your clit move to pinch your folds together, he prattles. “A-all inshide now.”

Oh, you look so pretty with your pussylips so swollen and leaky. Frothed right on top with an ivory coating of his sap that dips in and out. Moaning, “I-inside?”

“Mhmmm– I-I’m gonna be a papa- a papa. Gonna t-take care of her n’ you don’t hafta lift- lift a finger, my love. I’ll t-take care of the feedin’ n’ the late nights and- and…” 

He was daydreaming right now and you were stunned. 

“M’gonna b-brush her ngh- hair n’ you’re gonna dress ‘er up all pretty.” He’s babbling just as awe-struck as you, “A-and then you’ll- you’ll feed her breakfast I ngh- made n’ we’ll both take her to school. Spoil her- n’ ohhh she’s gonna look just like you w-with my eyes n’ she’s mine and-”

“A-and?”

“-yours.” Every declaration followed by the most determined of thrusts. One, two, three, four, five more dolloping streams of thick seed that glues to your walls and slips n’ slides straightly down your cervix. Your womb. “Y-yours. Yours yours yours y-ngh! Yours.”

Milking himself for you.

Nanami drills into you like he’s gone feral; that vice-like restraint around your throat stopping him from both biting into you just yet and helping him trawl you up n’ down to take every single drop.

It could’ve been hours, maybe even days before you find your now-shrilling voice once more. 

“M-m’yours, too–” You’re whimpering out, gliding your hands through the sweat-matted valleys of his hair and pulling him. 

But, of course, Nanami Kento loved to be used by his wife this way.

“N’ I wan’ your knot, Ken.” You bat your lashes, already having felt the massive, thick ring swelling around his base. Yet another particularly hard drive leaves you gasping, he was just so big– if you’d thought his normal hilt was wide, then this would stretch you until you were crazed. “Please?”

Ah, there it was.

That magical word. 

And how could he ever say ‘no’ to his wife?

With a knobbly thumb hooked to your fucked-out entrance, he’s arching his back and squeeezing that incredible perimeter inside. It’s so damn large that he has to slouch back and gaze as his knot slaps and slaps your outer pussy.

Wisping out a few globules of buttery cum? Pre? Nanami didn’t even know anymore, just aware that he was sobbing from the purple plum-colored, split-end of his cock.

Canines bitten until he’s tasting metal, “Gonna take it- t-take it like a good girl. My ngh- good wife.” Nanami’s fighting to keep his weighted lids from falling shut, “Get you all plugged w-with my knot. S-so full you can’t even ngh- fit. Can’t even take anymore-”

“Yes, please- please give it t’me, Ken.” You’re scrambling on the table, left hand flapping away somewhere until he clings onto it and brings it up to his spit-soiled mouth.

Tenderly kissing the band of your wedding ring as his sloppy thumb pries apart your gluey-stuck folds and siiiiiiinks his knot in. Fully. Tightly. 

And as soon as it’s all in, you’re blinking back nonsensical stars and angels in your vision - sobbing at the sheer stretch. It’s so raw, so filling having him be connected deeply inside, the tender skin of his ballsack flinching after every one of your squeezes.

Knot digging into your walls so thorough and hot. 

And it’s as if for a second, your husband stops breathing. 

Enough for you to ask, “B-baby, are you okay?”

“N-no.” Comes Nanami’s strained, cracking whisper of an answer. So hoarse you almost couldn’t hear it, “No.”

And there’s no warning before Nanami flinches - viscerally, animalistically to surge his face into the crook of your neck and bite. Hard enough to draw blood.

You let out a soundless scream, mouth dropping into the perfect oh! at the euphoric feeling of his jagged canines ripping into your scent glands. Scents melding and mixing and becoming one, it’s as if ten more orgasms hit you at full force. 

And your husband - your mate - feels it, too. 

Because the combined strength of his slamming pound and his fist on top of the table is so much that one of the sturdy mahogany legs breaks in half. 

Sluggishly, your omega reminds you that it was your turn to reciprocate the possessive marking. 

“Ken…” Being held up by none other than his tie blocking most of your airway, you lift your dizzy head enough to kiss the swollen gland where the whisked caramel was the most potent. Biting down as hard as your ruined body could, “-m-mine.”

At the sensation, he gasps–

“Marry me.” Hips driving sloppily into yours all over again and again and again even though the knot prevented him from doing anything more than swervin’ grinds. It’s like he won’t stop - can’t stop. The crimson-stained plumpness of his lips smear all over your mark, your ring, your lips. “Marry me marry me- be my wife?”

“Kentoo–” you giggle out, shortly out of breath as he accurately scratches your g-spot carnally once more. 

His foggy, half-lidded eyes watch you closely as you interlink your left hands together and reach it up to his hazy line of vision. “We’re already married.”

“O-oh.”

And it seems he was genuinely so pussydrunk that it didn’t even register - couldn’t register doing anything but gyrating his v-line into you sensually. Slow, aching drags of his plump tip stirrin’ hearts out of your insides and the splashes of cum within. 

Over and over, while Nanami takes off whatever remnants were left of his shirt and lays his head between the valley of your tits. Grabbing a sweet handful whilst he sucks like he was trying to draw milk out already.

Desk broken, air saturated. 

And only once he feels his rounded knot softening the slightest bit, tugging himself out with a few lecherously slurping tugs, does he speak.

“S-s’a good thing our hck! company’s empty.” Nanami whispers, barely audible over the squelch! of his webbed mess of cum immediately flooding out of you. Raw white and messy. Depraved. 

As you gasp, he’s cracking your legs open. Oh? 

Kneeling down down down–

Oh. 

The pinkish tip of Nanami’s tongue hits your overstimulated, weeping pussy with a damp thwack! “Because we’re celebratin’ our honeymoon in every room of this building, my wife.”

A/N. Mwahaha I told y’all alpha Nanami was next <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

sex therapy :: 01. dr. fushiguro

chapter tags/warnings: misogynistic! naoya. strong language. infidelity/adultery. sexual frustration. degradation. humiliation. classism. manipulation undertones.

word count: 4.9k

notes: this is my one wattpad book which was removed (at nearly 1M!). they can’t stop me from sharing this book with others, so here we are. <3 this book is laced with my own relationship experiences plus my favorite movie Titanic! enjoy, and likes/reposts/comments are appreciated! xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗢𝗡𝗘 • 【 he loves me, he loves me not 】

Dr. Toji Fushiguro.

That was the name of your sex therapist.

Keep reading

Hella good wished tumblr had a save option

“𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮! 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐛𝐢𝐠!!”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! monster fucking, half giant/half demon!toji has four arms, succubus!reader, dacryphilia, belly bulge from his cum and cock, his cum squirts out of you when he pushes on your stomach, hints of fucking his cum into you, one slapp across the face, hints of pussy drunk!toji, hints of breeding, ‘cock is too big’, you have a magical pussy it can all fit, hentai logic, toji has an inhuman cock, begging, safe word isn’t used but the color system is mention, his cocik has a knot, his stomach has a mouth and tongue, mind break/cock drunk, calling him daddy once, mocking/degradation, size kink - he'a a little over twice your size, mean mean toji, pain kink, some choking

Crying, Toji presses on your bulging stomach pinning you to the wall. “Can't! You're too much!" He everywhere holding your hands above your head, softly squeezing your throat. Pulling at your pierced nipple whilst stuffing himself deeper.

Sneering at you. "But weren't you begging for me to fuck ya? Bending over in front of me showing me your wet cunt like you're in heat." Crying from the sharp sweet pain when Toji roughly shoves another pussy spitting thick inch into you. Your pussy quivers and your toes curl as your eyes roll back.

Quickly rolling his hips, the unforgiving wall and his hands keep you still at the mercy of his cruel, sharp thrusts. Sretching your dripping wet pussy, reaching too deep making it hard to think. When you can feel his pulse in his puffy veiny cock.

Toji pushes on your stomach helping you feel how deep he is better than before. Slamming into your bruised cervix with his monstrously thick cockhead, splitting you wide.

Bottoming out his fat cockhead tugs on your soft wet cunt. His warm cum squirts out from Toji pushing on your stomach. Groaning, "Fuck you still had so much cum in ya. Such a shame it's all trickling out." Toji towers over you, your legs bound by rope in a mating press.

The tip of your horns reaching below his thick pecs. Softly grazing his hard muscles when he leans his chest forward. His chiseled jaw drops and soft scarred lips part with an erotic, deep moan. Your pussy clenches. "So fuckin' tight, need to feel ya grippin' my knot when it swells up the next time I cum. Isn't that what a whore like you is made for? Flicking your clit with his stomach's tongue.

Toji sneers "Stupid lil slut you've only taken half my cock. Come on you're a succubus don't t be so fuckin' pathetic! You can handle more than this, what color is my lil' cock sleeve at?" His condescending tone is riling you up.

Struggling to keep your voice steady when he loosens his grasp. "Greeeeennnn! Fuckyou! You're just really big!" Yanking you off the wall, grabbing your waist with two large hands. Keeping his third hand firm around your throat. "I can take moooooreeeee! Nnnnn fuck tooo big."

Mercilessly slamming the rest of his cock in with a deep groan. "I'm too big? Nnn fuck that's so hot, seein' your sloppy wet cunt struggling to take me. Makes me want to break ya." Twisting your pierced nipple, squeezing your throat, fucking you harder. Licking your puffy, sensitive clit.

Quivering you feebly twist your hips but it's pointless. There is nowhere to run. Held in the air all you can do is take Toji's thick, veiny cock.. You can't think when he forces his thick knot into your sore wet cunt splitting you open.

A sweet painful pleasure overwhelms you, arching your back, moaning, your bound thighs trembling. Mindlessly crying, "Nnnnpleasemmmmfucknnnnndaddddyyyy!" Drunk off his fat cock is rubbing, stuffing, stretching out your sensitive sore cunt. Trembling every time he slams into your bruised cervix, the pain and pleasure indistinguishable and overwhelming.

His massive body shivers, his broad shoulder curling in. Closing his eyes, biting his bottom lip leaning his head back. Savoring how your pussy pulses around fat cock. Toji looks down at you, there is a feral hunger in his dark eyes. Blue like the ocean's depths.

His condescending smirk makes your pussy throb. "I thought my cock was too big yet your takin' my cock like you wanna be my new glory hole,." Groaning, fucking you harder with each word. "Fiesty lil' brat! I'mma break your pretty lil cunt." Twisting your hands behind your back, crushing your neck. You're a limp toy in his grasp taking his cock in your squelching cunt.

He smirks, "Keep grippin' my cock like that and I’m gonna make sure you can’t walk after this.” Slapping your cheek, grabbing the base of your horns, slamming his fat cock into you with a loud groan. Rubbing your clit with his stomach's tongue.

His fat cock, large hands, large wet tongue, and thick knot tugging on your cunt when he bottoms out. You can't think when his is stuffing this full. All you need is to be Toji's pretty cock sleeve who he fucks full of cum every time his cock gets hard.

Oreo’s m.list

RoR Incorrect quotes#133 Still tired y'all-

Loki: So... you like cats? Tired!Y/n*Is playing with the local cat's beans...the source of your only happiness* Yeah... Loki*tries to impress them by slowly pushing a glass off the table*

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Loki: How long do you reckon it’ll be until Y/n finally snaps and commits murder?~ Thor: I’ve been going through life assuming it’s already happened at some point and it’s just that no one was ever able to trace it back to them

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Tired!Y/n: I’m sick and tired of being called 'mortal' like, you don’t know that. Neither do I- I have never died even ONCE. Nothing has been proven yet. Stop making assumptions. It’s rude-

Odin:...

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Loki: Well, remember when Y/n made a romantic dinner for me?~ Brunhilde: Loki, they microwaved you a pizza-

Part 2 of:

Tumblr

RoR Incorrect quotes#132 This might as well happen...

Tiredly...possibly depressed y/n that...has no reaction to anything anymore and Loki has made bets HE could make this human show despair or

With him, there’s no ‘no’. Only ‘yes, sir’.

❤︎ Synopsis. Obsession unfolds as a powerful figure locks his gaze on you, intent on bending your will and breaking your resistance. In his world, love is just a tool for control, and surrender is inevitable.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Itoshi Rin x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Itoshi Sae x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Michael Kaiser x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Isagi Yoichi x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. A Slave to His Will - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 4,056

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, hints at rough play and sex, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non con kissing and touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, degradation, verbal abuse, mature language

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.

♡ Itoshi Rin.

The air around you was frigid, oppressive, each breath you drew cutting sharp like shards of glass in your lungs. The room itself felt less like a space and more like a void—a place where shadows bled into each other and time slowed to a crawl. It wasn’t empty, though. It was filled with him. Rin Itoshi’s presence didn’t just occupy space; it consumed it, swallowing every ounce of air and light until all that remained was the unbearable gravity of his attention.

He stood across from you, his posture deceptively calm, but his eyes—those glinting, venomous teal—spoke volumes. They didn’t see you; they scorched you, flaying you open inch by inch, revealing every fear, every insecurity you thought you’d buried deep. He didn’t need words to tell you what you already knew. You were his focus now. And Rin’s focus was a weapon more devastating than any blade.

When he finally moved, it was with the deliberate, measured precision of a predator closing in on wounded prey. Each step seemed to reverberate through the space, the sound of his soles meeting the floor a dark metronome marking the seconds before you unraveled.

“You don’t understand yet, do you?” His voice slid through the room like oil, suffocating and smothering. It wasn’t booming; he didn’t need to be. Rin spoke with a low, simmering intensity that demanded silence, demanded submission.

He tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a faint, humorless smirk as he studied you like one might study a puzzle missing its final piece. “Do you know what it’s like to burn so absolutely for something that it becomes the only damn thing that matters? To be willing to destroy yourself and everything else just to take it, to own it?”

The silence stretched as your breath caught, your lips parting, though no sound escaped. He didn’t need a response. He wasn’t asking for permission. His gaze dropped to your trembling hands, the faintest flicker of amusement crossing his face.

“You’re afraid,” he murmured, the statement dripping with satisfaction. “Good.”

Rin was suddenly in front of you, so close you could feel the heat radiating from his body, a stark contrast to the glacial tone of his voice. His fingers brushed against your jaw, soft at first, barely a whisper of contact. It wasn’t kindness, though—just a mockery of it. When his hand tightened, tilting your face upwards to meet his gaze, there was no softness left, only an unyielding grip that said everything he didn’t.

“You’ve already lost, you know.” His eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw something deeper—something feral, desperate, and wholly consuming. “From the moment I decided you were meant to be mine, it stopped being a choice. Not for you. Not for anyone.”

His free hand moved to your wrist, encircling it with ease. His strength wasn’t overbearing, not yet, but the implication of it was clear. He didn’t need to hurt you to make you understand just how powerless you were. That realization crept over you like ice, numbing and inescapable.

“You think this is about affection? About love?” His laugh was razor-sharp, cutting through the smothering tension like a blade. “You really are naive.”

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your temple, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver crawling down your spine. “This is about control. About devotion. I don’t care if you fight. I don’t care if you wail or beg. You’ll stay exactly where I want you until you understand what it means to belong to me.”

Rin’s hand slid down your arm, his fingers intertwining with yours for the briefest moment before pulling your hands together, binding them in his grip. There was no tenderness in the motion, only an inexorable assertion of dominance. He didn’t look at you like a person. He looked at you like an extension of his will, a piece of his identity he was determined to carve into shape with his bare hands.

“You’ll break,” he said simply, as if it were an inevitability. His tone was soft now, almost contemplative. “And when you do, I’ll revamp you into someone worthwhile of standing at my side.”

His lips hovered just above yours, tantalizingly close yet deliberately distant. He wasn’t giving you what you wanted—or what you feared. This wasn’t about the act itself. It was about the power in withholding it, in watching you crumble under the unbearable weight of his attention.

“Say my name,” he commanded, his voice as sharp and unyielding as tempered steel. “Say it like you acknowledge who you belong to alone.”

You hesitated, the words caught somewhere between your throat and the pounding of your heart. His grip tightened, just enough to remind you of how easily he could crush you. “Say it,” he growled, his patience fraying at the edges.

When you finally whispered his name, barely audible, a flicker of triumph danced in his eyes. His smirk widened, splitting his face into something cruel, something monstrous.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his tone laced with mockery and satisfaction. “Now, let’s see how far you’re willing to fall for me.”

And as he pulled you closer, as his touch turned rougher, hungrier, you realized too late that Rin Itoshi wasn’t a man. He was a storm, a force of nature that would consume everything in his path. And you? You weren’t just caught in its wake. You were the eye of it, the singular focus of his ruinous obsession.

────────────

♡ Itoshi Sae.

He watches you like a predator studying its prey, his teal eyes narrowing with the precision of a sniper’s scope. In the dim light of his apartment, the air is heavy with unspoken tension. His presence feels suffocating—an invisible hand curling around your throat. Itoshi Sae’s gaze is unwavering, dissecting every twitch of your fingers, every shallow breath, every faltering word that escapes your lips. He doesn’t speak right away. Silence is his first weapon, sharp and calculating, cutting into your composure like a scalpel. When he finally does speak, his voice is soft, measured, but each word lands with the weight of a falling guillotine.

“You don’t even realize how pathetic you look right now, do you?” he mutters, his tone devoid of empathy, yet laced with a hidden clinical curiosity. He steps closer, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the hollow quiet. “It’s fascinating, really. How easily someone can be stripped of their pride.”

You flinch as his hand reaches out, but there’s nowhere to run. His fingers trace the line of your jaw, their touch featherlight, but you can feel the intent behind them—cold, assessing, as though he’s handling a fragile object he intends to shatter. His lips curve into the faintest semblance of a smile, but it’s a lifeless thing, a grim mockery of warmth.

“Do you even understand what you’ve done to deserve this?” he asks, tilting his head. The question hangs in the air, rhetorical and cruel. He doesn’t wait for an answer. Sae doesn’t need your words; he thrives on your silence, on the way your trembling body speaks volumes.

His hand slides lower, over the curve of your shoulder, down your arm, his touch methodical, almost mechanical. Each movement is deliberate, precise, as though he’s memorizing the map of your body. When his grip tightens, fingers digging into your skin, it’s not enough to bruise—not yet—but the promise of pain lingers in the air like static before a storm.

“Weak,” he speaks, almost to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought you’d be different. But in the end, you’re just like the rest of them. Fragile. Pathetic.”

He takes a step back, his hand falling away, but the reprieve is an illusion. The distance between you is a leash, not freedom. His eyes remain locked on you, dissecting every reaction, every flinch, every unsteady breath. Sae’s control is absolute; even in his silence, he commands the room, bending reality to his will.

“Look at me,” he commands, his tone low and cutting. When you hesitate, his lips curl into a sneer. “Did I stutter?”

Your eyes meet his, and the intensity of his gaze feels like a physical blow. There’s no mercy there, no compassion—only an abyss of calculated cruelty. He steps forward again, closing the distance, until you’re forced to tilt your head back to maintain eye contact. His hand rises, fingers curling around your throat, not tight enough to choke, but firm enough to remind you of the power he holds.

“Struggling would be pointless,” he says, his breath warm against your ear. “But go ahead. Try. Amuse me.”

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, your hands pushing against his chest in a futile attempt to create space. His grip tightens in response, the pressure against your windpipe making it harder to breathe. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t waver. Instead, he watches with a detached curiosity, as though observing a lab experiment.

“Pathetic,” he repeats, his voice dripping with disdain. “Is this really the best you can do?”

When he finally releases you, you collapse against the wall, gasping for air. He doesn’t give you time to recover. His hand tangles in your hair, pulling your head back until you’re forced to look at him again. The smirk on his lips is faint, almost imperceptible, but the malice behind it is undeniable.

“You should thank me,” he says, his tone deceptively calm. “I’m teaching you your place.”

The words cut deeper than any physical wound, and he knows it. Sae’s cruelty isn’t born of chaos; it’s calculated, surgical. He doesn’t just break you; he dissects you, piece by piece, stripping away your defenses until there’s nothing left but raw, trembling vulnerability.

And then, when you think he’s finished, he rebuilds you—but not as you were. No, Sae shapes you into something else entirely, something that fits his vision. His obsession isn’t love; it’s a dark, twisted form of control, a need to possess and dominate every aspect of your being.

“You’ll learn to obey,” he says one night, his voice a venomous whisper in the dark. “Or I’ll make sure you never forget the consequences of disobedience.”

The words linger in your mind, a constant reminder of the cage he’s built around you. Even in his absence, you feel his presence—an invisible hand guiding your every move, a shadow that looms over every thought. Sae’s control is absolute, his dominance inescapable. And in the rare moments when his mask slips, revealing the depths of his obsession, the darkness in his eyes is enough to make your blood run cold.

“You’re mine,” he says one night, his voice trembling with an emotion that’s almost human. But the glint in his eyes is anything but tender. “Even if I have to break you to keep you.”

His kisses are bruising, his touch possessive to the point of pain. He marks you, both physically and emotionally, until there’s no part of you left untouched by his influence. And yet, despite the horror, there’s a part of you that can’t escape him. Because Sae doesn’t just break you; he makes you believe that you were never whole to begin with.

And in his mind, that makes you his—irrevocably, undeniably, his.

────────────

♡ Michael Kaiser.

Michael Kaiser is not a man who plays by halves. Perfection, domination, and the art of dismantling his rivals—these are the tenets of his life, the doctrines by which he reigns supreme both on and off the field. Control is his lifeblood, his religion, and for as long as he can remember, the world has bent to his will, obedient to the designs of its self-crowned emperor.

Until you.

You, with your fragile defiance and trembling courage, have carved a fissure in his perfect, unyielding universe. He hates you for it, as much as he is enthralled by you. You are an anomaly he cannot ignore—a splinter lodged deep beneath his skin, festering, driving him mad.

And tonight, as the air grows heavy with the weight of unspoken words and dangerous promises, he watches you like a predator. His gaze lingers on the way you shrink back, cornered yet refusing to crumple entirely. It is infuriating. It is intoxicating.

“Do you even realize,” he begins, his voice a low snarl that echoes through the dimly lit room, “what you’ve done to me?” He steps forward, his movements slow and deliberate, a calculated menace radiating from every fiber of his being. The light catches on his tattoos, twisting chains and roses that writhe across his skin like living things. “You’ve turned my life into chaos. My life. Do you know how unacceptable that is?”

You say nothing, your lips pressed tightly together, though your trembling form betrays you. It fuels him, this tiny rebellion. He could crush it—crush you—with ease, but where would be the satisfaction in that? No, he wants to see you fight. He wants to see you lose.

“Answer me,” he commands, his tone icy now, each word a blade slicing through the silence.

When you finally stammer a response, it’s barely above a whisper. “I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what?” he interrupts, his laughter sharp and humorless. He takes another step closer, and the distance between you vanishes like smoke. “Didn’t mean to? Didn’t notice? Or didn’t care?” His hand shoots out, gripping your chin with a force that leaves no room for resistance. “Because I can assure you, liebe, I’ve noticed. I’ve noticed every single time you’ve made me feel—” He cuts himself off, his jaw clenching as if the very idea repulses him.

There is something feral in his eyes now, a hunger that makes your breath catch. His thumb traces the line of your jaw, the touch almost gentle, but the tension in his grip is unmistakable. He leans in, so close that his breath warms your cheek. “Do you want to know what it’s like?” he murmurs, his voice a venomous whisper. “To have everything under your control, everything perfect, only for someone like you to come along and ruin it?”

You try to look away, but his grip tightens, forcing your gaze back to his. “No,” he says, his voice a low growl, “you don’t get to look away. You don’t get to pretend this isn’t your fault.”

His other hand moves to your throat, fingers splayed against the delicate curve of your neck. He feels the erratic rhythm of your pulse beneath his touch and smiles—a cold, cruel thing that bares his teeth like a wolf. “Ah, there it is,” he breathes, his thumb pressing just enough to make your head tilt back. “Fear. It suits you.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before his lips brush against your ear, his voice dropping even lower. “You make me weak,” he hisses, the words filled with venom. “Do you understand how disgusting that is? How infuriating it is to crave something as broken and defiant as you?”

The mask of control he wears so effortlessly slips, just for a moment, revealing the raw, seething obsession beneath. “But don’t worry,” he continues, his tone softening in a way that only makes it more terrifying. “I’ll fix that. I’ll fix you.”

Before you can process his words, he moves. His hands slide down your arms, his grip firm and unyielding as he pulls you closer. His lips find your skin, leaving a trail of bruising kisses and sharp bites. Each mark is deliberate, a claim etched into your flesh. He revels in your protests, in the way you try—and fail—to push him away. “Keep fighting,” he murmurs against your collarbone, his breath hot and ragged. “It only makes it more satisfying when you finally give in.”

Your struggles only seem to amuse him, his laughter rumbling low in his chest. “Do you know what I’ll do to them?” he asks suddenly, his voice taking on a darker edge. “All those fools who think they can touch you, who think they can have you? I’ll destroy them. I’ll make them regret ever looking at what’s mine.”

The possessiveness in his tone is suffocating, the weight of it pressing down on you like a physical force. He steps back, just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression a twisted mix of adoration and hatred. “You’ll see,” he promises, his voice soft but deadly. “I’ll show you what happens to anyone who thinks they can take you from me.”

And then he’s on you again, his touch alternating between cruel and tender, his words a dizzying mixture of threats and endearments. He breaks you down piece by piece, his dominance suffocating, overwhelming, until you are left with nothing but the reality of his obsession.

When he finally pulls away, his hands still lingering on your skin, he smiles. It is not a kind smile. It is the smile of a man who has won. “There,” he says, his tone almost gentle. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

But you know, deep down, that this is only the beginning. For Michael Kaiser, love is not a gentle thing. It is a war, a game of control where surrender is the only acceptable outcome. And you are his trophy, his prize, his victim.

You may have defied him once, but in the end, there is no escaping him.

────────────

♡ Isagi Yoichi.

The room was steeped in silence, heavy and oppressive, broken only by the faint, rhythmic ticking of a clock buried somewhere in the shadows. It was the kind of silence that amplified everything else—the quickened hitch of your breath, the faint rustle of fabric as you tried to edge back, and the subtle scrape of his shoes against the wooden floor as he closed the distance. Isagi Yoichi was nothing like the boy you thought you knew, the one with the eager, boyish grin and the kind of enthusiasm that made people underestimate him. That version of him had been shed, discarded like dead skin. What stood before you now was something raw and unrelenting, a creature shaped by obsession and honed by the cold, unyielding weight of his own ambition.

His presence was suffocating, a wall of quiet menace that pressed down on you, leaving no room for escape. He tilted his head slightly, watching you as one might a trapped animal, his sharp blue eyes reflecting a glint of something darker, something that thrived on your fear. There was no anger in his gaze—no fiery outburst, no theatrics. It was colder than that, infinitely more chilling. Isagi didn’t need to raise his voice; the intensity of his silence spoke volumes.

“You don’t get it yet, do you?” His voice was low, almost gentle, and that softness made it infinitely more terrifying. Each word felt deliberate, precise, like the ticking of the clock—unavoidable, inescapable. He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing you whole. “You think you have a choice here? That there’s some world where you can walk away from me? What are you? A damn idiot?”

Your back hit the wall, the cold surface biting through your clothes, and you realized you’d run out of space. His body was too close now, towering over you, his scent invading every breath you took. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it was overwhelming, a mix of sweat and something sharper, metallic, like adrenaline distilled into a tangible form. His hand reached out, skimming along the edge of your arm with a touch that wasn’t quite gentle. It wasn’t cruel, either—it was assessing, clinical, as though he were studying the tension in your muscles, savoring the way your body betrayed you.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, the corner of his mouth curling upward into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. It wasn’t the kind of smile that reassured—it was cruel, mocking, the kind of expression that turned the air around him icy. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “What is it? Fear? Shame? Or are you just starting to realize what this means for you?”

You swallowed hard, but your throat felt dry, constricted, as though even that small act of defiance might provoke him further. His fingers moved upward, brushing against your jaw, and your body froze under his touch. It wasn’t a question of whether you could fight back; it was the knowledge that resistance would only make things worse.

“You think I don’t see it?” he asked, his tone sharper now, though his voice never rose above that measured, calculated calm. “The way you look at people. The way you laugh, like it’s nothing, like I’m not standing right here, watching you give them parts of yourself that don’t belong to them. That don’t belong to you.”

His grip tightened, his fingers curling under your chin to force your gaze upward. Those blue eyes—sharp, unyielding, like frozen shards of glass—bored into yours, peeling away every layer of defense you might have built. “Look at me,” he demanded, though the command was almost a whisper. “I said, look at me.”

You obeyed, if only because there was no other option. The intensity of his stare was suffocating, like standing on the edge of a cliff with the ground crumbling beneath your feet.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” he asked, and there was something unnervingly reverent in his tone now, as though you were the culmination of some grand, twisted dream he’d nurtured in secret. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to need something so badly it fucking hurts?”

His hand moved again, this time skimming down your side, his touch possessive, leaving behind an invisible trail that burned like a brand. When he kissed you, it wasn’t a kiss—it was a claim, raw and feral, a battle for dominance you’d already lost. His lips were demanding, his teeth grazing your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, though you couldn’t tell if it was intentional or simply a byproduct of his hunger. When you tried to push him away, your palms pressing weakly against his chest, he caught your wrists with ease, pinning them against the wall above your head.

“Don’t,” he warned, his voice dropping to a growl, the sound rumbling through his chest like the distant echo of a storm. “Don’t fucking fight me.”

His weight pressed against you, his body a cage as much as his words were. His breath was hot against your neck, his teeth dragging along your skin in a way that made your heart lurch violently in your chest. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze again, his expression dark and unreadable.

“You think this is love?” he asked, his voice dripping with something bitter, almost mocking. “Love is weak. Love makes people hesitate. And I don’t hesitate. Not when it comes to you.”

He tilted his head slightly, as though considering his next move, his eyes never leaving yours. “No, this isn’t love,” he said finally, his tone softening, though it only made the words more chilling. “This is something better. Something stronger.”

When he moved again, it was with deliberate purpose, his hands rough and unapologetic as they claimed every inch of you. His touch left no room for doubt, no space for protest. He wasn’t gentle—not because he couldn’t be, but because he didn’t see the need. You weren’t something to be coddled, not in his eyes. You were his, and he was going to make sure you understood that in every way possible.

“You’ll thank me for this one day,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow. But eventually, you’ll see. You’ll see that you were always mine.”

When he pulled back, his grip still firm on your chin, he studied you like an artist admiring their masterpiece. His thumb brushed against your lip, smearing the faint trace of blood he’d left behind, and his smirk returned, darker and more dangerous than before.

“You’re perfect,” he said, almost to himself. “And I don’t lose perfect things.”

Then, leaning in so close that his lips barely ghosted against yours, he whispered his final, bone-chilling promise: “And I don’t fucking share.”

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. Thank you.

General TAG LIST: @uniquecutie-puffs , @ikevampharem , @tnsophiaonly , @mokingbrd78k , @cooldeermagazine , @mimitk , @xileonaaaa , @acacia-koi , @purple-obsidian , @waterfal-ling

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

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

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology

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

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

♡ Book 4 [you are here]. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

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

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

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

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

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

The world without acne would of been the best a bunch of ppl wouldn't have depression

mood fr

Stray dog (Part 2)

To find the most recent chapters, please go to @doggoboigaugau 's masterlist

Sorry it took me quite long lmao TToTT School and work deadlines are killin' me.

Pairings: Ghost x Soap x Male Reader

Summary: Male Reader is traumatized and refuses to open up to 141. Soap found out something horrible going on with him and told Ghost about it.

Word count: 1910

Warnings: Smoking. Mention of attempts to self-h@rm.

The next morning you woke up with a throbbing headache. It was so bad that you felt like hundreds of needles were jabbed into your eye sockets and every time you blinked, those needles plunged into your brain, sending a sharp and chilling pain to the crown of your head. This was by no means a strange occurrence for you though, given the fact that every night the base celebrated a party you always indulged in this self-sabotaging habit. 

Still, no matter how bad the situation was, you still had training to attend to, tasks to get done, reports to compile, and a miserable life to live. You turned your head to look at the clock, silently praying that it wasn’t too late. 

It was 13:00 in the afternoon already. 

“Shit!” You threw an arm over your forehead. Nice, you missed the morning training session. It was your responsibility today to train the new recruits and now you messed up the whole Task Force’s schedule once again just because you could not handle your pathetic emotions properly. The thoughts of giving up flooded your mind yet again since it was no use in waking up anyway, it was too late to do anything useful. The other team members were already aware of how irresponsible you were as you continuously failed to be on time for training the newbies. And what about the newbies’ impression of you? Probably an unreliable man who was no longer fit to be a member of a special Task Force that was particularly famous for its efficiency. Or maybe you were never fit to be one to begin with. 

Why didn’t the others wake you up? You had worked here long enough to know how scary and irritated Ghost could get when people missed his training session. There were even times when he immediately had the unpunctual soldiers pack their things and get sent to another department because he couldn’t fuckin’ stand people disrespecting his schedule. 

“Maybe they forget about my existence. Maybe I wasn’t that big of a part of this Task Force.” You mumbled to yourself, trying to pull your tired body out of the heavy blanket. As much as you wanted to give up, the desire to be important to someone, something, or some organization, …just anything, urged you to wake up and keep trying. You wanted yourself to be seen.

Upon opening the door of your stuffy room, you instinctively covered your eyes as they were attacked by rays of blinding sunlight. Your room was too dark and gloomy, doors and windows tightly shut all day and night, no wonder you would react so unfavorably to the bright sunlight that is often associated with positive moods by most people. 

The base was unusually quiet. You didn’t meet a single soul on your way to the kitchen to fill your hungry stomach. No Soap cracking stupid jokes with his heavy Scottish accent and laughing loudly to them himself, no Gaz cursing at his jokes, no Roach laughing at the two dumb manchildren, no Price sighing and telling them to at least be less raucous. You tried to shrug the nasty nagging feelings off, but it soon became unbearable when you walked into the kitchen and saw all the dirty dishes in the sink. 

“They have finished their lunch.” And they had it without you. The people you considered to be your own family, much closer than the biological family that you had cut all contact with, didn’t wake you up from your drunken sleep, totally forgot your existence, and enjoyed a meal together like there wasn’t anything missing. You knew damn well that you were overexaggerating the seriousness of the situation, but you just couldn’t help it. 

‘What am I to them?’ That question kept spiraling inside your brain, worsening the headache that you were already having. In a brief second, all the nagging feelings were anthropomorphized into a disgusting creature with multiple heads and mouths by your ailed mind, shrilly screaming out your deepest thoughts that were fraught with insecurities. Your legs were rendered weak and you collapsed on the floor. Supporting your weakened body with all four limbs, you took heavy breaths, trying to calm yourself down.

A few minutes later, you managed to put yourself together enough to stand up and get out of the base, on the way you didn’t forget to grab a pack of cigarettes. You felt stupid to resort to nicotine as a way to fight against all those feelings, but you didn’t know a better way. There were times when things were so bad that you had no energy left to hide your conditions from your teammates, and Price was concerned. He used to have you talk to some therapists, and not surprisingly to you at all, they could not handle you for long. No one ever could. 

You were now standing in the parking lot with a cigarette in your mouth. You sighed, clearly satisfied with how strongly its bitter taste stimulated your taste buds. When you first arrived here as the newest member of Task Force 141, Soap and Gaz always joked that you’d become Price’s smoking buddy, but that did not happen. The image of you standing with Price awkwardly because you two couldn’t find a mutual topic for a conversation made you feel too uncomfortable to even try, so you kept avoiding the older man or pretending to not hear his offer until he just stopped inviting you. It was so obvious that the men wanted to get closer to you, they wanted to earn your trust, to make you feel at home and be yourself among them, yet you kept pushing them away. And now perhaps they had stopped trying all together. It was not their fault. It was yours. 

But why it was so painful? You were supposed to feel relieved that they had given up so that you didn’t have to blame yourself every time you turned their kind offer down and saw the sadness drawn on their faces. ‘Why do I keep feeling like shit no matter what I do?’

Feeling that the intense emotions that were barely suppressed by the nicotine started to get out of hand again, you cupped your head with both hands, the half-burning cigarette fell to the ground. Suddenly, your eyes caught the red burning tip of it, together with how the paper wrapping around the nicotine was slowly burnt to black. At that very moment, a dark but familiar thought popped up in your mind. You bowed down to pick up the cigarette, blankly staring at it resting between the two fingers of your right hand. Then, your eyes turned to your left hand, examining your spotty lower arm. It was full of the small round scars that were caused by burning your arms with the burning tip of a cigarette. You had noticed Ghost looked at these scars of yours many times; luckily he never asked about them. The army was a place filled with people who had different background stories and bore numerous scars, so it wouldn’t be abnormal for you to have some that were a bit funny-shaped.

‘Should I do this again?’ 

Maybe you should. It helped with the emotions. Well, temporarily, but that was good enough.

Just as you were about to press the burning tip into your lower left arm, someone threw their whole weight into you. You were hugged by two strong arms and the cigarette was again dropped to the ground.

“There you are! I’ve been finding you everywhere!” It was the Scot man. “Are you smoking? Gosh, I hate this smell! Price’s cigars are much better!”

‘The ones that smell good are never bitter enough.’ You thought to yourself.

“Have you had lunch, pretty boy?” Soap pinched your dumbfounded face.

“Not yet.”

“What? Unbelievable! Get to the kitchen with me right now, Sergeant.” The man literally manhandled you straight from the parking lot into the base, leaving you no time to object.

As you two arrived at your destination, Ghost was already sitting there, sipping some coffee. Soap forced you to sit down right next to him while he proceeded to walk to the fridge and pulled out a dish, putting it inside the microwave oven. 

“Here you are, babyboy~” He put the hot meal in front of you. You chose to ignore the pet name and his flirtatious voice simply because he had started doing it to you ever since you start working here. It was just one of his signature thing, you should not fall for it and mistake it as a sign of interest that could develop into romantic feelings. 

“Thanks, Soap.”

“Aw, don’t be so all worked up and formal, babyboy. Ya’ welcome~”

Silence fell over the three of you, until you just felt so awkward that you had to speak up, “So… how was this morning?”

“It was fine. Ghost stepped in your place and took care of the training.” Soap replied.

You carefully glanced at Ghost, just to find that the man already looked at you, which made you tremble slightly. The skull mask on his face made him too difficult to read, you couldn’t tell whether he was annoyed or he just gave up on expecting something greater from you. 

Soap laughed at your reactions, “It’s okay. You were drunk so Price agreed to let you sleep. Also, Ghost volunteered to help you with the training so he probably doesn’t hold a grudge. Am I right, Ghostie?”

The masked man didn’t answer; instead, he turned back to his cup of coffee.

You quickly finished your meal and left, saying that you should do training by yourself. The truth was you couldn’t stay there any longer, you didn’t want to disturb Ghost and Soap’s rare peaceful time together. You had already made too terrible an impression on Ghost, it’s best that you did not mess up again. As a result, you also missed their conversation. It was not intended for you to listen to anyway.

“You’re right. He did it.” Soap’s voice was solemn, with no sign of flirt or unseriousness like a few minutes before.

“You mean the scars?” Ghost looked up at him from the cup.

“Yeah, the round scar marks that you’ve told me many times.”

“It was just my guess. How do you know he really did it?”

“I found him in the parking lot. He was holding a burning cigarette and about to press it into his left arm.” 

A few minutes of silence passed until Ghost spoke up, “Fuckin’ hell.”

“I asked Price about his past, I know it’s a nosy thing to do, but I wanted to help. Unfortunately, Price knows nothing either. Y/n… the boy never opens up to us.”

The two men sat quietly, exchanging worried looks with each other. If only you could know how much they cared for you, maybe you would find it easier to accept their love and help. Yet, even if they told you, even if they desperately showed you so many times that they cared and loved you so much, would your brain allow your heart to welcome them just like how it used to welcome other people you had met earlier in your life, the ones who left you wounded and made you the way you were today? 

If someone asked you that question, you’d just offer them a weak smile and simply say: “No”. You're now too tired to hold on to any crumbles of hope left in your broken soul. You'd like to give up.

to be continued i guess :")

Taglist: @aphroditeslovr @prestigeghoul @edgyboi10000 @c0nny3917 @peter-the-pan @lovecats123451

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫 ~ 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝓮. 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝓷’𝓽 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀 𝔂𝓮𝓽.

Gojo Satoru is a fucking liar.

He acts like he doesn’t give a shit about you. Like you’re nothing. Like you’re just another bug beneath his shoe, something to step on and leave behind.

That’s why he makes your life hell.

That’s why he trips you in the halls, why he plucks pens straight out of your hand during exams, why he calls you ugly little nicknames and twists his words like a knife, carving them into your skin. You flinch when he’s near, shoulders always tensed, waiting for the next hit. You hate him. You should hate him.

But Gojo Satoru is a fucking liar.

Because the moment he’s out of your sight, he’s memorizing the way your body moved beneath that skirt, the exact shade of pink on your lips, the way your breath hitched when he leaned in too close. The moment you’re gone, he’s pulling his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through the hundreds of pictures he’s taken of you without your knowledge—hidden camera feeds, blurry shots of you in class, close-ups of your sleeping face.

He loves watching you cry.

Loves the way your brows furrow when you’re frustrated, the way your lip trembles when he rips into you, the way your eyes go glassy when you’re about to break.

It’s fucking beautiful.

You don’t realize how much of your life he’s stolen.

The cameras are the worst. They’re everywhere. In your apartment, in your showerhead, in the fucking toilet. He’s watched you at your most vulnerable—watched you wake up, stretch, rub the sleep from your eyes. Watched you undress, fingers skimming over your own skin, completely unaware that he’s breathing hard on the other side of the screen, cock twitching in his pants.

And in public, he plays the part of the asshole.

If anyone knew—if anyone even suspected—he’d kill them. Without hesitation.

You belong to him.

That’s why no one else is allowed to look at you. Why he slashed that guy’s tires when he saw him flirting with you at the café. Why he grabbed that classmate by the collar and whispered something in his ear after he asked you out, something that made the poor bastard turn pale as death and drop out of the course.

You’re his little pet. His toy. His perfect, untouchable secret.

You have no fucking clue.

Not when he watches you through your webcam as you study. Not when he follows you home at night, walking just close enough to hear your footsteps quicken. Not when he licks his lips at the thought of shoving you against a wall and splitting you open, hearing you scream.

You think he’s your worst nightmare.

You have no idea.

Official TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @save4h , @rofkshinee , @songbirdgardensworld , @yanderedrabbles , @xileonaaaa , @neuvilletteswife4ever , @poopooindamouf

Test-Phase TAG LIST of “The Red Ledger”: @imnotabot28 , @han11dh , @loserworld , @esthelily