Keeping This Because I Can

You’re jogging toward the trees now, throwing caution to the wind as you follow the sounds of his pain. Just before you cross into the forest, you finally spot your boyfriend’s massive figure, his wine red hair being the giveaway. He’s facing a pine tree, tail stiff and laid low, touching his head and wincing repeatedly.

As he registers your scent and whips around to face you, you understand why: at least 15 black-tipped, spindly death daggers sprout from his cheeks and nose. 

“Valko?” You cover your mouth in shock, and he stumbles closer, falling forward against you.

“Hurts,” he grunts. 

Like always, you struggle to support his large body. Even more so now that one wrong move could further impale him. “What happened?” 

“Porcupines are supposed to be nocturnal,” he says, voice grim and shaky. “This one wasn’t.” 

If you had an extra hand, you’d drag it down your forehead right now. 

Skunks, raccoons, exceptionally angry squirrels—those had all happened before. A porcupine, though? That was new. Almost impressive.

“You just get into all sorts of trouble, don’t you.” Taking a step back, you brace your hands on his chest to examine him. “Let me have a look at you.” 

The quills look like toothpicks dipped in black ink. And while a few of them seem to have barely penetrated his skin, the majority mark the porcupine’s decisive victory. 

“Can you take them out?” he asks, staring down at you pleadingly. “If we hurry, we can still make the movie on time. I know I’m super late. I’m sorry.”

Twenty of nature’s finest knives in his face, and he’s worried about the movies?

“You obviously had a reason,” you murmur, cupping his less-affected left cheek in your hand. “I don’t know if I should, Koko. The tomato bath was one thing, but this… If I do it wrong, I’ll just make it worse.” 

His response is simple: “I trust you.” 

Cute. But not what you need right now.

Blowing out a breath, you stand up on your tiptoes and reach for one of the looser quills. Your fingers barely brush the tip of it when renewed anxiety shoots through you. “No, no. I can’t! I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You couldn’t if you tried.” He snorts, then winces at the pain. 

“Tell that to the porcupine.” You narrow your eyes. “I think it missed the memo.” 

His ears swivel in acknowledgment. He’s 0–2 in battles today. 

“All right, change of plans,” you announce, clapping your hands and turning on your heel. “We can go to the movies another day. Right now, we need to go to the vet.” 

“It’s not that serious,” he protests. “I’d do it myself if I just had a mirror. Let’s go back to the house, and—”

“I’ll get the car ready.” Your word is final. 

His ears droop atop his head. 

Ultimately, you had to ease him into the passenger’s seat so he didn’t accidentally nudge any of the quills. You debated just shoving him into the trunk so he’d have extra room, but figured extraction would be a difficult task in the clinic’s often-packed parking lot. 

In the waiting room, you try to shield him as best you can from quizzical looks and a particularly curious cat, but he’s without a doubt the largest patient in the room. Likewise, once he’s called to the back, his sheer size makes the exam room furniture look like dollhouse accessories. The central table is nearly the length of his tail alone, and it creaks under his every movement. But you stand dutifully at his side, making sure he’s as comfortable as can be, given the circumstances. 

The vet’s entrance is prompt as always—part of the reason why Valko prefers this clinic. The other is the giant fish tank in the waiting room that he gets to busy himself with. Today, he was in too much pain, but he typically holds intense staring contests with its oblivious inhabitants, bragging to you whenever he “wins.” 

“Well, I typically ask, ‘What seems to be the problem?’,” Dr. Song jokes as she shakes both of your hands. “But today, I don’t think that’s necessary.” 

Sighing, Valko scratches at his jeans. “I went out for a run, and I heard something grunting in a bush nearby. I thought it might’ve been a lost pup, so I went to check it out. Anyone would, right?” He looks to you for support. 

Smiling softly, you rub a hand down his back. “Right.” Not in most circumstances, no!

Nodding gratefully, he continues. “As soon as I crouched down and saw it, it whipped its tail at me. Next thing I knew, it had stabbed me a million times.” 

“Well.” Dr. Song sighs and pulls out a pair of tweezers. “You’re not the worst case I’ve seen. Sometimes, it’s the whole face—and neck.” She waves her hand forward, and Valko scoots toward her on the table. “Let’s get to work, shall we?” 

You take a step back to give her some space, but she quickly shakes her head. “Oh no, you stay standing next to him. I might need you to hold him down.” 

──────

Right when you wonder if Valko’s death grip will shatter every bone in your hand, Dr. Song holds up the final quill in triumph. “That’s nineteen quills total. Looks like Mr. Porcupine let you off easy.” 

Valko kicks the air in desolation. “Doesn’t feel like it.” 

“It will when you wake up tomorrow and you don’t have to wonder, ‘How did it even get my nostrils?’,” she retorts, heading to the door. “Now, let me just get your treatment, and you’ll be free to go.” 

The second she steps into the hall, Valko turns to you and whimpers. “It hurts.” 

Frowning in sympathy, you run your free hand through his hair. “How bad?”

“Really.” 

You start to shush him and scratch the backs of his ears how he likes, but approaching footsteps force him to regain his composure. Still, when Dr. Song re-enters the room, he holds your hand a little tighter. 

“All right,” she begins. “I’m going to disinfect and put ointment on the wounds, and…” She pulls out a familiar, conical object from behind her back. 

Valko freezes as soon as he sees it. Your own mouth parts in shock. 

Is that…? 

No way. 

“...to keep them from getting infected, either through scratching or contamination, I recommend you wear this recovery cone for a week. Just to be safe.” 

When she waves the transparent cone through the air, Valko sputters in consternation. “You want to put me in jail?”

“Of course not. You’ve done nothing wrong. But to prevent further irritation, it’s best that for the next seven days, you only remove this from your neck when absolutely necessary. Also, you should avoid certain skin-to-skin activities that may aggravate the entry spots.” 

You understand her implication, but Valko’s tail thrashes in unease. “What…what kind of activities?” 

The doctor smiles down at him. “The usual. Scenting, kissing, anything further than that. Now! Raise your head for me so I can clean the punctures.” 

Before he does, Valko gives you a look that needs no decoding: I think I’m gonna be sick. 

Day 1

Your keys clatter on the kitchen counter as Valko trails inside behind you. 

Knowing he’ll be glum about his current confinement, you try to get ahead of it, hoping you can offset the bad with so much good, he’ll forget about being in plastic prison.

“So, is there anything you want to do this evening? Watch a drama, make double chocolate chip cookies, play a video game? I could order in from your favorite steakhouse if you want. Or we could go for a walk?” 

Despite your efforts, his lips stay curved downward. His ears barely twitch at the mention of his favorite things. 

“Okay, what about—”

“I look dumb,” he mumbles suddenly, blinking at you through the cone. It surrounds his head like petals to a flower, stopping just above his nose. He looks like an upright bullhorn, or perhaps a frilled lizard, but you can’t tell him that. 

“You look safe,” you say instead. “That’s what matters, yeah?”

“Not when I look dumb, too.” With a huff, he reaches behind his head, eager to free himself of Conecatraz. But before he can undo the clasp, you’re crossing your arms and tapping your foot, giving him a withering glare. 

“You know you aren’t supposed to touch that. Put your hands down.”

“Make me.”

Oh, really? That’s how it is?

Scoffing, you cock your head at him, and the first signs of regret appear on his face. “‘Make’ you, huh? Should I call the vet and tell her what you’re up to? I’m sure she has advice for patients who break the rules. Like, maybe if you mess with your cone too much and stunt your healing progress, you’ll just have to wear it even longer to make up for it?” You start to turn, ready to stalk toward the house phone. 

“No, wait!” Lurching forward, he tries to bend down to snuggle you in apology—a favorite habit of his. But you sidestep him quickly, clicking your tongue in admonishment. 

As he loses his balance, he gives you a look of ultimate betrayal.

“Don’t pout at me. I'm doing this for you, okay? You heard the doctor. Where your face is concerned, skin-to-skin contact is off limits for now.”

As if he didn't hear you, he ducks toward you again, desperate to marry his cone to your shoulder. This time, you give his arm a healthy pinch, and he yelps in shock.

“No, Koko. It's for your own good.”

Frustration grows on his face, beginning to claw at your heart, too. He’s never had to limit contact with you like this. Even when you first met, he was stuck to you like a magnet. 

Sighing, you try to bring him some comfort. “Here. Get on your knees.” 

He follows the order without further prompting, sinking to his knees on the kitchen floor. Even like this, he’s still half your height. 

“Come here.” Reaching through the cone’s opening, you pet the top of his head, running your fingers through his soft strands with care. When he leans into your touch, you trace his ears with light strokes and smile when he shudders. Gradually, the deep frown on his face shrinks to a mild line of displeasure. 

He wraps his strong arms around your thighs in a stubborn thank-you, and you can't help but coo down at him. “You’re my big, strong wolf, aren’t you? It’ll be over before you know it. You can handle this, no problem.” 

Day 3

Valko could not handle it, and there were many problems. 

In fact, while he was bored out of his mind the night of Day 2, he pried open his laptop and drafted a list of complaints.

Eating has become an unpleasant experience. While he’s permitted to remove the cone at mealtimes, he must eat in a separate room so your scent doesn’t lure his unprotected self over. Worse, you will not enter the room until he’s refastened the cone around his neck. The humiliation of having to cone himself solely to win your presence is quickly becoming too much to bear. 

You won’t let him go on errands with you, lest he get into something he shouldn't and aggravate his wounds. This makes him incredibly restless—especially when you come home smelling like other people and things, and there’s nothing he can do about it. This causes significant anxiety and emotional distress. 

He usually sleeps with his tail curled around you and his face shoved deep into your skin. This earns him a constant stream of your scent. However, a wall of pillows now separates your sides of the bed. Even worse, he is not permitted to remove the cone for the night. This causes discomfort and loss of familiarity, which undermines the restorative purpose of sleep. He will be sending you any medical bills that arise due to his sleep deprivation. 

Last, but perhaps most important: the cone obstructs his view of you, which he depends on for energy throughout the day. (You’re quick to deem this one questionable, because the cone is fully see through???)

A document of his grievances was taped to your blanket, just over your heart, this morning. 

Clearly, he had a lot on his mind. 

Now, you lie on the sofa watching TV, trying to cuddle with him as best you can. Your fingers are intertwined, and he’s sprawled awkwardly across your lap, face up and eyes begging. You try to ignore the incessant nonverbal pleading, rubbing circles into his skin with your thumb. 

Sometimes, he turns his head into your belly—or maybe a little lower—and inhales as deeply as he can through the plastic. When you gasp and swat at him, suddenly scandalized, he only huffs and grumbles, bringing you closer. “Just let me have this.”

As the sun dips in the sky, he almost relaxes. He grows captivated by the nature show you’re watching, ears going into overdrive from all the birdsongs and animal calls. It’s the calmest he’s been in the last three days, you think—until the “woodland creatures” portion of the show begins.

His mortal enemy lies in wait within.

“It’s not as big as the one that did this to me,” he growls at the porcupine stumbling around on the screen. “He was a monster.”

“I’m sure he was,” you answer automatically. You’re used to this by now. “How else could he have taken you down?”

Valko grunts in agreement, then pauses the TV. “Can we do something else now?”

“Okay.” You squint at him warily. “Something like what?”

Slowly, as if you won’t be able to see him, he trails his hand down your side, gently squeezing at your hip.

“No,” you sigh, firmly returning his hand to him. 

Tuning out his protests, you unpause the show. At that moment, a closeup of the porcupine’s snout fills the screen.

“Can you at least change the channel, then?” he mumbles.

Day 5

Since you’ve known him, Valko has never been one to give up. Driven and scrupulous, he approaches life with an outlook that’s both endearing and exhausting: if not now, maybe later.

It’s no surprise, then, when his attempts to hold and claim you like normal escalate to new heights. 

One time, you catch him in the midst of the most primal desperation. 

It’s not even noon yet, but here he is: laid out nude in the middle of your bed, head propped on his set of pillows while he clutches one of yours to his cone. With his instincts compromised and your scent already flooding his nose, he can’t yet tell that you’ve entered the room. And boy. If you thought he was shameless in public, Valko in private is a whole different animal.

His hand is all but glued to the heavy bulk between his legs, pumping and twisting like he’ll die if he doesn’t. 

His thumb circles his tip as he works his rhythm, abs flexing with each ragged breath. Every soft, broken moan of your name is an axe to your resolve. 

Before you do something you’ll regret, you try to back out of the bedroom and leave. But as soon as one foot is out the door, your shoulder hits the wall with a quiet thump. 

You freeze instantly, your heart dropping to your feet.

There’s no point in hoping he didn’t hear. To Valko, no sound is ever quiet.

He jerks his head toward you immediately, steady pumps getting wilder the moment your eyes meet. “Fuck,” he pants, writhing desperately on the sheets. His massive thighs tremble with every movement, sending tiny shocks of heat to your core. “Fuck.”

“Valk—”

“Please help me. Please, it hurts so bad. I need you so bad, please, it’s been days.”

You bite your lip so hard, you think you’ll draw blood. “You know I can’t.”

“I don’t care what the vet said,” he growls, fist finally coming to a stop. “I care about you.” 

Clinging to resolve, you cross your arms and stay put. At that, he closes his eyes and breathes slow and deep through his nose.

“Just— Help me finish, please. You don’t have to touch anywhere near my face. That’s the rule, right?”

As that pleading stare pins you to the spot once more, you bite your lip in consideration. He’s flushed all over, and a thin sheen of sweat coats his whole body. He really does need your help, but can you risk it?

When his mask slips, letting the hungry glint in his eyes shine through, you know you can’t.

“I won’t touch you, Valko. But you can use this.” Swiftly, you tug your shirt over your head and toss it onto the bed. He catches it with ease, and behind the cone, his face contorts in bewilderment.

“Use it?”

“To finish,” you explain, folding your arms across your bra. “It’s the safest way I can help you right now.”

Gazing at you like you’re a deity reborn, he presses the fabric to his cone’s exterior, right outside his nose. As he inhales, a deep, guttural groan escapes him. “Thank you,” he pants. His hand returns to his reddened length, and he redoubles his earlier efforts. 

Leaking arousal glistens on his skin, and you can hear how much easier it makes things for him. Covered in his own desire, he slides his hand up and down with no friction, creating lewd, wet sounds that echo through the room. 

“Thank you, thank you— Fuck, thank you. I’ve done this like ten times already, and it’s taken me longer every go,” he admits shamelessly. “This is so much better. Not as good as you, but so much better. Thank you.” 

He bucks his hips into his giant fist, and for a moment, you fear your shared bed might collapse under his ferocity. Once he starts licking the cone’s wall, as if he’ll be able to taste your shirt through the plastic, you almost want to avert your eyes and leave the two of them alone together. 

You don’t have long to ponder it. Soon after, Valko comes quickly with a deep groan of your name, coating his skin in spills of white. As he convulses in pleasure, you approach his bedside to stroke his hair through the cone’s opening—just like you have for the last several days. Valko whines at your touch. 

“Shh, baby. It’s okay,” you whisper. “Just two more days, yeah?”

His response is halfway between a growl and a grunt. Chuckling, you bend to kiss his damp, darkened hair. “Just two more days.” 

Day 7

At 12 a.m., you wake to an empty bed. “Koko?”

There’s no response to your call. Groaning, you throw off the covers and stretch your tired limbs. Where did he run off to? It’s barely been two hours since you went to bed.

Hugging yourself to keep warm, you pad into the dark hallway. The home gym is clear, and he’s not in the kitchen sneaking chocolate. Where could he be?

It doesn’t take long to find out.

In the living room, Valko stands at the back door, gazing at the moon through the window. 

He’s clad only in loose grey sweats. More notably, he’s missing his cone. 

The only indication that he knows you’re there is a near imperceptible twitch of his ears. “It’s day seven, did you know that?” he rumbles. 

Suddenly nervous, you shift on your feet. “I did.” 

“So you also know what I’ve been missing the last seven days.” He turns to face you, eyes stormy and narrowed. “What I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. What I begged you to give me, but you refused. Acted like you were doing me a favor,” he spits out, lips curling into a snarl.

In the moonlight filtering through the window, his amber eyes are a new level of otherworldly. Pale, greyish-white slivers flicker across his chest, making his taut abs seem to ripple in front of you. 

After seven days, he looks very, very grumpy.

You get the sense that you’re in trouble. 

“Koko,” you start, stepping forward to placate him, “you know that’s not—”

“Don’t ‘Koko’ me,” he snaps. “That’s reserved for people I’m close with.”

Is he serious? “You know I’m closer to you than anyone.”

“Right now? After this week? I’m not so sure. But you will be.” His tail swishes behind him as he takes a menacing step toward you. “Come here,” he growls out. 

“We can talk about this, but I’m not going to—”

“Three.”

“Okay, are you seriously threatening me with a countdown?”

“Two.” 

“That’s my thing! You know, when you won’t let me get out of bed, or when you bite too hard, or—”

He doesn’t let you get to “one.”

When he bursts forward at superhuman speed, he doesn’t even give you the chance to run. 

You’re in his arms in an instant, thrashing wildly as he tries to pull you both to the floor. “You’re heavy as fuck!” you bark at him. “Let me go!”

“No.” He overpowers you easily, lowering you to the carpet and quickly pinning you there. He only takes a moment to revel in your submission—your high squeaks and whimpers and feeble attempts to swat him off. Evidently, he has bigger plans for you.

While you wriggle beneath him, he deftly kicks off his sweats and quickly deals with your clothes. You’re wearing only a nightshirt—his, you notice all too late—and completely vulnerable to his impatience.

He rips a line straight down the middle, clumsily shrugging the worn fabric off you. While you’re too busy gawking to register his actions, he slides down your body, coming to a halt at your traitorously wet heat. 

“Usually, at least a little bit of my scent lingers here,” he says, inhaling you deeply. “You’ve lost it after not taking me for so long. But we’ll fix it, won’t we?”

When you don’t respond, his eyes flash up at you. “Won’t we?”

“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, signing away your fate.

“Yeah, we will.” Surging forward, he places an open-mouthed kiss to your entrance, swirling his tongue into you without warning. His ensuing groan could start a national scandal. 

“I’m gonna let you go, all right?” He nips your inner thigh. “Don’t try to run from me. I’ll catch you.” 

He watches closely as he eases off of you, but there’s no need—you obey. 

“Good girl,” he mocks, and you break his gaze with a huff. 

Chuckling, he sweeps his hair back and lies down on the carpet, grabbing your arm and dragging you to him. “Sit on me.”

“…What?”

“My face. Sit on it.”

“…What?” 

“Oh, I get it. Is this a ‘make me’ kind of thing? Well, if you insis—”

“No!” You hold your hands out in defense, grimacing when he grins at you. “You know we’ve never…done that before.”

He shrugs. “First time for everything. Hop on.”

You stay put, shaking your head with vigor no matter how hard your center pulses. “What if you can’t breathe?”

“Don’t need to.”

“I think you do, but okay.” Playing with your fingers, you search for another excuse. “What if I’m too heavy?”

Valko’s smile slips, and his top lip curls as he looks at you flatly. “Now you’re just insulting me.” 

In retrospect, you should’ve known that one wouldn’t get you very far.

“Fine,” you concede shakily. Crawling toward him, you put your hands on either side of his massive body and sit down on him in a straddle. Gingerly, you scoot up, and up, and up, until your hips are right below his chin. His smirk widens all the way. 

“Last chance to back out,” you offer helplessly. How would grilled porcupine taste?

“In your dreams.” In an instant, his arm shoots out behind you and guides you forward. You cry out the second your sensitive flesh meets his skin, nearly cursing from the foreign sensation. 

For a moment, all he does is breathe you in. Lewd, deep inhales, trying to siphon the scent from your depths. “Missed this,” he murmurs, words slightly muffled. “Missed you. Fuck, you’re so good. You smell so good.”

You’re afraid to look down, but you don’t have to. You can hear his smile.

Instead, you look behind you, seeing that his thick, veiny length is flushed and leaking already. Your gulp echoes in your ears. 

A soft press of his lips to your throbbing clit pulls you back to your senses. With another kiss, he positions the bud over his nose and your entrance over his mouth, so he’s sure to catch all your desire.

When he squeezes your hip, you know he’s asking for more. Gently, timidly, you rock against his face to appease him. Valko, though, ever observant when you’re involved, knows you’re withholding your full weight. 

And he won’t have it. 

Simultaneously, he delivers a sharp slap to your backside and nips your clit in warning. When you squeal out into the cool air, he soothes the sting with a searing lash of his tongue. 

“I’m trying!” you cry. “Whenever we do this, I’m always the one on my back! I feel weird.”

Squeezing your hips, he lifts you up just enough to speak. “Tough.”

Then, he plops you right back down, the smack of skin on skin spreading a wildfire across your cheeks.

Eager to explore, he glides his tongue around your core, poking and prodding wherever he likes. When you arch away from the pleasure, too sensitive to stay still, he decides he’s had enough. 

His tight grip on your hips is his first act of defiance. But when he starts bouncing you on his face, alternating between his mouth and nose, you’re more than ready to throw in the towel. 

“Valko!” you whine. Up and down, down and up. Up and down again and again. How long has he wanted this?

A response would require a pause in his actions, so of course, he doesn’t provide one. Instead, he flattens his tongue against your clit and makes you grind your hips down onto him, like he’s nothing but an extension of you. “Valko!” you repeat, stars quickly clouding your vision.

All he offers is an unburdened grunt, clearly not planning on stopping anytime soon. And why would he, when there’s so much to lap up?

A mix of his saliva and your arousal pools between you, with sound effects previously unheard of filling the room. You’re so wet, at one point, you almost slide down his face to his forehead—but he hauls you back up with a laugh, the vibrations only exacerbating the issue. When you pull at his hair, shy and embarrassed, he merely sucks your clit into his mouth and releases it with a pop. 

Captive to his relentless touch, it isn’t long before your muscles contract and release, sending more and more wetness gushing toward his waiting mouth. 

Your mind is a haze as he licks you clean, making sure not to waste a single drop. You do register, though, how he inhales once again when he’s finished. “Smells like me again. That’s better.”

Thinking his wrath has exhausted itself, you feel your body deflate like a popped balloon. You’re more than ready to melt into the sheets and sleep off the worst of the aftermath. 

“We should seal the deal, though. Just to be sure.”

Valko has other plans.

Before you can blink, he flips you over with force, driving your hands and knees into the carpet. When you yelp, he squeezes your backside in apology, only to slip his fingers down to your open slit. Once he confirms that you’re ready for him, he braces his hands on your hips and slides into you with ease. 

Your startled gasp is his grand opportunity. As you cry out his name, he shoves his fingers into your open mouth, making you sputter and swallow around them. With his other hand, he clamps your jaw shut so you’re forced to bite him, your blunt teeth barely a threat against his skin. 

All the while, he’s moaning and laughing, hips stuttering from his rapid thrusts. Each time his base slaps your backside, you feel him grow larger and larger, until you’re being speared on something you’re not sure you can take. But as your muscles contract around him once more, squeezing him with all that they have, you don’t think that matters anymore.

In tune with your own release, hot spurts shoot deep into your channel, followed by a searing, swollen pressure you don’t know if you’ll ever get used to. It’s at this point that the last of your strength crumbles. But when you start to slump into the floor, you find you can’t move too far—not without bringing Valko with you. 

As you both catch your breath, locked together until the comedown, he slides his hand out of your mouth and slaps your cheek lightly, signaling for you to open your screwed-shut eyes. When you do, he sticks his drool-coated fingers into his own mouth, canines poking into his flesh as he swipes his tongue greedily. 

All you can do is whine.

You don’t know when your bodies will loosen up enough for you to separate. All you know is that he’s got you here, right where he wants you, for a long, long, agonizingly long time. 

──────

“Are you satisfied?” you deadpan as the beast finally tucks you into bed. 

“For now.” You can hear his smirk as he flicks off the lights. Doesn’t make much of a difference, though.

It’s dawn. 

“But you can check back with me in an hour. Maybe my answer will be different.”

“In an hour, I will be dead to the world and recovering from you,” you grumble. Suddenly, you purse your lips. “I’m gonna miss that cone, you know.”

Even in the dim morning light, you can see his brows furrow. “What?” 

“You looked cute in it. Like a little puppy.” Reaching out, you grab his face and squish his cheeks between your fingers. “So cute.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, but his tail thumps the mattress. “Whatever. It did have its benefits, though. Tonight was so good, I wouldn’t mind a repeat.”

“You really think you can do that again? Seven whole days, no contact?”

“‘Course I do. It wasn’t that hard for me.”

Your eyes narrow into slits. “Not even you believe that.” 

“Yeah. This was fun, though,” he says through a yawn. “We should do it again sometime. Goodnight.”

As he rolls over and tucks his tail around you, blanketing you in half his body weight, a nagging thought won’t leave your head.

Should you switch vets? 

Finally, Rudo managed to escape, elbowing you in the face to do so. You choke out a startled noise, recoiling back to catch the blood dripping down your nose. Rudo heaved in a breath. His ribs ached from how hard you were squeezing him. When Enjin said you were the strongest Cleaner, he assumed he meant as a Giver, not in brute strength!

“Are you crazy!” Rudo snapped. He pointed an accusatory finger at you. “You could’ve killed me. No way I’d join your team! Is that how you treat all members?”

“Okay, how about we fight over it,” you suggest, making Rudo gawk in surprise and Enjin sigh. “If you defeat me, I’ll let you stay on Team Akuta. In fact, I’ll make it easier for you. All you have to do is disarm me and victory is yours.”

Rudo glances toward Enjin who merely shakes his head. The white haired boy’s expression hardens. “You’re on.”

“Excellent!”

You all head to the courtyard for more space. Rudo watches as you pull something out of the pocket of your jacket: a hand fan. Opening it revealed a gorgeous pattern of flowers printed on it. “Rudo, please do your best to not get dizzy!” You say sweetly.

Your vital instrument activates, eyes glowing vibrantly as your fan expands in size. In one swift movement, your now giant folding fan conjures up the wind. A miniature tornado entraps Rudo in its piercing hold, dragging him in circles until the world blurs together and he thinks he’s going to hurl.

“Y/n, that’s enough.”

Just as fast, the wind ceases. Rudo hits the ground with a groan. He’s so disoriented that he couldn’t even fully register what had happened in the span of thirty seconds. When his vision finally settles, he witnesses you being scolded by Enjin, staring at the ground while pouting.

“Fine, you can keep him on your team,” you eventually huff out.

Enjin grits his teeth in irritation. “You weren’t listening at all, were you!?”

You close your fan, it shrinking back down to pocket size. You approach Rudo with an extended hand to help him up. “Considering most people throw up the first time they get caught in my wind, I will say I’m throughly surprised by your durability. So congrats, you passed the first test! We’ll continue training tomorrow at 9 am sharp,” you announce. “I dislike waiting so don’t be late!”

Rudo stares at you blankly as you pat him on the head affectionately. He was starting to believe that something was seriously wrong with you, but at the same time, he was strangely somewhat flattered by the odd compliment.

Dear Santa did not like it when other people took your attention.

When you’d smile and give one of the younger members a head pat for a job well done. Or how tenderly you treated their injuries before giving them something from your seemingly infinite stache of candy. He especially didn’t like it when you’d get pulled away during your already limited time together.

You were supposed to be his older sibling! No one else’s.

“Sorry Dear!” You apologized profusely to the child, having arrived late to your agreed upon lunch. “I was assigned to a mission last minute this morning. Took longer than I expected to clean out the trash beasts.”

Dear only huffed in annoyance. Although he wasn’t happy about the fact that your time with him had been shortened, he supposed he couldn’t blame you. It wasn’t your fault, and, Dear was just happy to be able to indulge in your cooking.

“Crap. I think I left the utensils in the kitchen,” you sigh, digging through your lunch box. “Dear, can you go grab some forks and napkins for me?”

Giving a wordless nod, Dear hopped down from his chair and quickly dashed off to the kitchen while you set the rest of the table. You had prepared a bento with some of Dear’s favorites. He had always been picky when it came to vegetables, so you hoped he’d over look the ones you snuck in.

“Woah, something smells really good in here.”

You look up from your work, smiling to see Zanka and Rudo entering the canteen. “Hey you two. Are you guys on break today?”

“Yeah, we leave tomorrow for an assignment, so Enjin told us to relax today,” Zanka explained.

Curious by the strange dish in the container, Rudo tried to make sense of what it was. It was brown and thick, with pieces of something mixed into it. “It’s curry,” you say, catching his stare.

“Curry?”

“It’s a hearty dish with beef, carrots and potatoes mixed into a roux. Perfect for growing boys like yourselves. There’s extra in the pot I left in the kitchen, so feel free to help yourselves!”

“Really?” Zanka exclaimed. “Sweet! We’re in luck. Y/n’s cooking is to die for.”

You laugh. “You flatter me.”

At that moment, Dear returns carrying a stack of napkins with utensils. It took him some time to reach them on the higher shelf, so he had had to move a couple chairs to use as a stool. He had an eager bounce to his step until he saw that you were no longer alone.

Dear runs up to you and hugs your leg, barely reaching your waist. He stares down Zanka and Rudo, a scowl settling on his face.

“Oh! You’re back!” You cheerfully pat Dear’s head, affectionately ruffling his hair. “Thank you so much for your help! I appreciate it.” You then turn back to Zanka and Rudo, clapping your hands together. “Say, why don’t you guys have lunch with us?”

At that suggestion, Dear’s eyes widened. He quickly grabbed your hand, tugging on it to showcase his displeasure with the idea. When you didn't budge, he then sent Zanka and Rudo the dirtiest glare he could muster as if to silently tell them “don’t you dare accept the offer.” Zanka found the child’s reaction and overprotection of you amusing, and he tried hard not to laugh.

“Actually, we have a meeting to run too,” Zanka said.

“We do?” Rudo asked.

“Yes, we do, and in fact, we’re late. I will take you up on your offer to get some of your curry later though, so save me a bowl.”

“Oh, okay…” you say confused, watching as Zanka drags a grumpy Rudo off. Your smile returns as you look back to Dear. He’s already staring at you. His wide-eyed innocence was so adorable and you couldn’t help but want to hug him. “Awee it’s their loss in the end. I get to have this cutie all to myself!”

You pull Dear into your chest, nearly crushing him as you nuzzle your cheek against his and holding him so tightly he can’t escape. But, not that Dear particularly disliked it. He got to have all your attention to his self.

“Welcome back everyone!”

You cheerfully greet Team Akuta and the Supporters who were just now returning from an extended assignment. Everyone looked like hell, which was the nice way to put it. Exhaustion evident in everyone’s faces, giving you half a wave or barely a greeting. You didn’t take it too personally seeing as everyone was clearly tired.

“Does anyone need any medical attention?” You ask Enjin. “If so, Eishia and I will see to your injuries.”

“Thanks, but for the most part everyone is okay,” Enjin said with a smile. But after a moment of thought he added, “Actually, Fu got roughed up a bit near the end, but you know he’s not gonna want to say anything in fear of inconveniencing you. Mind checking on him for me?”

You smile sweetly. “Of course.”

You spotted the meek boy lingering in the back of the group, sheepishly trying to stay out of the way. Ever since Fu joined the Cleaners on a sort of trial basis, most of the members had been rather distrustful of him. Who could really blame them when he was a former Raider. But you had chosen to give him a chance. In your mind, treating him with hostility would only further isolate him, and the last thing you wanted was to make Fu feel like he wasn’t welcome.

“Fu!” You call. The boy startled, looking around frantically before pointing to himself. You laugh. “Yes I’m talking to you. Good work out there. Let me treat your injuries, and then you can turn in for the day. I’m sure you’re tired.”

“O-oh n-no,” Fu protested. “I’m o-okay! P-please d-don’t trouble yourself with the likes of me.”

You frown disapprovingly before getting an idea. “That’s fine I supposed. But Enjin ordered that everyone gets checked out at least. I can’t force you though.” Turning on your heel, you begin to walk off, albeit a big smugly knowing that Fu would never go against any orders he’s been given. Especially if they came from Enjin.

“W-wait!” Fu grabbed the sleeve of your jacket before recoiling quickly. “S-sorry! I..um…if Enjin said to…I-I’ll go get checked out. I..um…actually…” his face turns bright pink in embarrassment. “C-can we talk in private?”

Immediately concerned, you pull Fu along to the medical wing that to his relief, was thankfully empty. You instructed him to sit on the cot while you gathered your first aid supplies and your jinki if necessary. At your insistence, Fu hesitantly removed the jacket he was wearing to reveal, to your horror, a large gash in his shoulder. It seemed as if he tried to sloppily patch it up, but the bandaging wasn’t clean and blood had soaked through them.

“Oh my god! Fu what happened!”

“It was just a trash beast…” Fu mumbled. “It was about to hurt Tomme…and I just moved without thinking.”

You carefully undo the bandages so you could examine the full extent of his injury. Thankfully, the skin hadn’t been punctured all the way through and nothing vital had been struck. Opening your kit, you begin to disinfect the wound, Fu wincing from the burn of the antiseptic.

“Why didn’t you say anything to Enjin or the others if you were hurt?” You gently ask.

“I…” Fu swallowed his nerves. “I didn’t want to inconvenience the others. I’m already a burden to the team and—“

“Fu,” you interrupt. You place a gentle hand on the boy’s head. “You are just as valuable an asset to the team as everyone else.”

“You’re the only one who thinks that.”

“If that’s what you believe, fine. One day I’ll convince you otherwise. But because I care about you, I want you to come to me if you’re ever hurt so that I can take care of you. If you don’t tell anyone else, I want you to at least trust me.”

Fu avoids making eye contact with you, staring at the floor and then his hands. He didn’t understand why you were being so kind to him. Nor did he understand why he kept gravitating towards you. Something about your presence was reassuring. Like an older sibling type of energy.

You suddenly pinch his cheek, hard at that.

“W-what are you doing!? T-that hurts!” Fu stammered.

You laugh. “I would give you a hug, but I don’t want to aggravate your shoulder more.” You give the boy a fond smile. “I don’t know if anyone’s told you, so I’ll be first to say it. Thank you for saving Tomme and looking out for the team. I’m really proud of you.”

“The more you fight me, the longer this will take,” you say as calmly as possible. “I’m going to try to be as gentle as I can, but I need you to stop moving if you want to be freed from me.”

Dear bitterly huffs, but tucks his hands into his lap.

Spraying Dear’s hair with a mixture of water and conditioner, you’re able to part his curly fro into sections. As much as you’d love to braid or change up his hair style, Dear would never sit still long enough for you to do so, so you settled for the usual ponytails.

Now that you had detangled most of his curls, Dear wasn’t as squirmy though he still wore a prominent pout as you sectioned off his hair into neat parts with the comb. You then slick back a section of his hair (plus his forehead) with a bit of gel and the brush before tying it together with a rubber band. You repeat this several times until Dear’s hair is finished.

“There, all done,” you say, fluffing out the last ponytail. You reach for the hand mirror amid your supplies and hold it in front of Dear. “My little boy is so handsome.”

Looking at his reflection, Dear dismissively scoffs before trying to clamber out of your lap. You laugh as he stomps off. He really hated getting his hair done.

Communication Concerns

Bro Santa was in quite a predicament.

Team Child had been away on assignment longer than he had expected. The task he had been sent on with Dear and Guita turned from a few hour excursion to an overnight debacle.

And Bro forgot to inform his wife about the sudden change.

He already knew he was going to be in trouble when they got back to HQ. You were fiercely overprotective and quite a worrier. But as you weren’t a combatant giver, you were one of the Cleaner’s few healers alongside Eishia. So Bro already knew you were either A. panicking and assuming the worst case scenario that one of them had died or B. Found out from Semiu about the change and were mad. Bro was hoping the former but was prepared for the later.

And he was right to be prepared.

A rather angry aura emitted from the medical wing, making a nervous bead of sweat run down the back of Bro’s neck. Correction. You were pissed. Swallowing back his nerves, Bro opens the door and steps into the room.

You’re across the room, organizing and restocking the cabinets. On the exterior, you appear calm and collected, but in reality, Bro knew you were seething. Closing the door behind him, he steps closer. “Uh, hi sweetheart.” You pause, but don’t turn around. Bro runs a hand down the back of his neck. “We’re home. I’m sorry we were later than I told you—“

“Late?” You scoff. Bro tries not to flinch at the scowl you give him.

“Right…I’m sorry. I didn’t anticipate on the assignment taking as long as it did, but I should’ve called and told you.“

“Mhm.” Your hum is dismissive as you continue to stock the shelves with a new box of bandages.

“Guita and Dear are unhurt though.”

“Mhm.”

“I also brought these for you.”

Bro presents you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. On the ground, real flowers were rare and difficult to come across, but people often make realistic enough looking artificial flowers. Whenever he can, Bro likes to gift them to you with the hopes of one day being able to find and afford real ones. Of course, you’re still a sucker for the sweet sentiment, and the gentle, apologetic demeanor of your husband makes you cave.

“Please communicate with me if things change,” you sigh, holding the flowers close. “I know things are unpredictable and I’m not upset that you were gone longer, but I get concerned when I don’t hear anything.”

“I understand.” Bro presses a kiss against your temple. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Mhm. And you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Bro couldn’t argue. Crisis was avoided at least.

Game Night

Once a week, family game night was mandatory.

As everyone was always busy or away with work related obligations, you were insistent that you guys make sure to carve out time to bond with one another. Usually that meant playing a board game or cards with each other. Sometimes, to make it entertaining, you’d divide into teams or there would be candy on the line for the winners.

However, the entire family was extremely competitive and more often than not, the game night resulted in arguing.

“Enjin, you cheating ass bastard! You landed on our property space, so you owe Dear and I two hundred dollars!” You snap. Immediately after you turn to Dear, who sits at your side with a smug look. “Don’t repeat that.”

“You already took all my money! How the hell am I supposed to pay what I don’t have?!” Enjin yells back.

“Then give us your railroad in compensation.” Beside you, Dear huffs in agreement. After all, Enjin had the last railroad you both needed to have all four.

“Hell no! Thats not how the rules work.”

You two continue to argue about the rules, even going as far to demand that Zanka checks the rule book which makes the rest of the table collectively sigh. Team Child and Team Akuta decided to play monopoly in teams (you + Dear, Bro + Guita, Zanka + Riyo, Enjin + Rudo). You and Dear had a strong lead with the most properties with Zanka and Riyo not too far behind. Bro and Guita repeatedly kept getting sent to Jail, much to the young girl’s amusement. And Enjin and Rudo kept landing on your property spaces, which was starting to piss off the tattooed male off, because you and Dear owned just about half the board.

“So according to the rules, if you land on someone’s property you have to pay their rent,” Zanka says reading through the rule book. “If you can’t afford to do so, you can sell some of your houses and hotels or sell your properties to raise cash. Or you can declare bankruptcy but then you’re out of the game.”

“HA! Give us your damn railroad!”

“Y/n, if they sell their railroad, it goes back on the market,” Riyo sighs. “You guys don’t get it automatically.”

But the two of you seem to ignore everyone else and do whatever. Seething, Enjin bitterly hands over the railroad card, but he is petty and holds on to the card leading to the two of you to play tug-of-war over it. “Let it go!” You hiss.

“What kinda example are you setting for Dear, huh?” Enjin growls. “Aren’t you supposed to teach him good sportsmanship?”

“I’m teaching my son not to take shit from cheating assholes like you! Now give us the damn railroad!”

“Bro, aren’t you gonna stop them?” Zanka asks.

Sighing, Bro shakes his head. “My wife is just going to make up her own rules. It’s better to just go along with it.”

Flu Season

You could tell from the moment he stumbled into your bedroom that Dear was sick.

He shuffled over to you, tugging the end of your shirt to get your attention. Not only did he look tired and didn’t have his usual beloved centrallian, but there was a distinct flush on his face. “Dear? Are you okay, sweetheart?” Dear shakes his head and hugs your leg, his body feeling too heavy to keep up right. And he was so tired.

Taking his temperature only just confirmed that he had a fever. A high one at that.

Immediately, you shift into concerned mama bear mode. Dear is all too compliant and puts up no fight when you carry him back to his room. You first tuck him back into his bed. Noticing that he was shivering, you pull the blankets up to his chin. “I’ll be right back.”

Dear felt like his throat was on fire. Any time he tried to swallow, it felt like razor blades were stabbing him. He didn’t know if he wanted to or even could cry, because his body was achy. And no matter how he tried to curl up under blankets, he was still so cold. Dear doesn’t even realize when you return to his room until you place a cool compress across his forehead, making him flinch.

“Sorry, but we have to get your fever down first,” you say. You measure out a dose of the children’s medication. Dear’s stomach churns seeing the purple colored liquid. “You think you can swallow this for me?” At the mention of trying to take any medication, Dear’s eyes widened and he quickly shakes his head. “I know it’s not the best tasting thing, but it will help you begin to feel better.”

Relenting, Dear finally drinks the medicine. He fights back the urge to throw up as he does so. The grape flavor was always the worst. And he begins to cough. Tears prickle against his eyelashes as his throat burns. You run a hand through his hair until the fit subsides.

“Poor baby. Who knows where you caught this bug from.” You frown. You hated when Dear got sick. It always made you sad, wishing you could take his discomfort away, but even as a healer, there was only so much you could do before needing to allow an illness to run its course. “Try and get some rest. I’ll go get you some tea.”

Before you could stand to leave, Dear sits quickly up and grabs your wrist. He gives you a pleading look, which you return with a soft smile. You tuck Dear back in, then lay down beside him. Until he falls asleep, you continue to run your fingers through his hair, humming quietly. Only once his breathing evens out do you stand to leave.

Appreciation

You were the glue that held the family together.

Bro never went a day without telling you how much he loved you and how grateful he was for your constant support. Not only were you an amazing mother to Dear and the most loving wife, but you also were one of the most hardworking Healers that the Cleaners had. You were always doing your part in helping others, so for a change, Bro wanted to do something nice for you.

Usually, on the weekends, you got up early to make everyone breakfast, but this time, Bro beat you to it. While you were still sound asleep, he snuck out of bed and headed to the kitchen. He was gathering the ingredients needed when something tugged on his shirt, startling him. Dear stared up at Bro, blinking innocently.

“Dear? You’re up early,” Bro says in surprise. Dear’s head tilts, like he was confused as to why it was Bro in the kitchen instead of you. “I was gonna surprise Y/n with breakfast in bed for a change. You know, since she’s always helping everyone out. Do you want to help?”

Dear nods. He pushes one of the chairs from the kitchen table against the counter and climbs on it to see better. The two of them work together to mix pancake batter. It was mostly Bro just measuring out the ingredients, because Dear was rather insistent on doing most of the work. Even if that meant that Bro had to fish egg shells out of the batter afterwards or there would be a massive mess to clean up because Dear took “mix thoroughly” as “mix aggressively.”

They wouldn’t end up being the prettiest pancakes. Dear decided last minute that chocolate chips needed to be added, which made them harder to flip in the pan. “How does Y/n make this look so easy?” Bro mumbled.

The first pancake sticks to pan due to all melted chocolate. Dear snickers in laughter as it falls apart. The second pancake, Bro burns one side. While trying to ensure it was cooked all the way before he flipped it, he misjudged the timing and let it cook a bit too long. “You think she will care that it’s a little burnt around the edges?”

Dear pins Bro with an unamused look in response.

The third pancake looks presentable. It’s nowhere near as round and smooth as when you make them, but they’re edible, which is a win! Bro manages to successfully cook the rest of the batter without setting the kitchen on fire. Dear helps plate the best looking ones for you while Bro brews your favorite coffee. They were about to bring the tray to your room when you come barreling into the kitchen in panic.

“Oh my god I overslept and—“ you pause, brain short circuiting as you take in the sight of the messy kitchen. At the center of it all is your husband and son, who wear matching innocent expressions. “Uh. What happened here?”

“Unfortunately, you beat us too it. We were trying to surprise you,” Bro says a bit sheepishly. Dear walks up to you and then holds up a plate with a stack of pancakes on it. A smiley face has been made on the top one from chocolate chips, strawberries, and whipped cream. Your heart fluttered.

“You both…made me breakfast?”

“We were just about to bring it to you in bed. It’s not much, but we just wanted to show how much we appreciate you by doing something nice for you.”

To both Dear and Bro’s surprise, you begin crying. “You guys~” You sniffle. “What did I do to deserve such an amazing family in my life?” Bending down, you press a kiss to Dear’s forehead before standing on the tips of your toes to kiss your husband. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” Bro says with a smile. “You know we’d do anything for you.”’

“As would I.” You take the plate from Dear. You scoop some of the whipped cream on to your finger, bringing it to your mouth to taste. “Now clean up my kitchen so we can enjoy breakfast together.”

At that, Bro laughs, then he kisses you once more. “Yes ma’am.”

Want more of the Santa Family?

★ The Prototype's idea of intimacy is much different than yours. It's not violent. Not unless you run from him. But it's more controlling than anything. He never touches you because he doesn’t need to. Observing the Player is its own reward.

★ Quite the voyeur, he turned out to be. Watching you from afar with an almost predatory gaze. He listens closely to hear the small changes in your breathing. Everything in the factory is predictable. But you? Not so much.

★ He's seen you struggle. Smiling as you limp from room to room. It makes him feel unsteady for some strange reason. Excited to see what breaks first.

★ His own sex is somewhat of a mystery. What he has -if he even has anything, it was never really clear. You haven't been that close. And don’t want to be.

★ The Prototype will cut you open. He fantasizes about doing just that constantly. In his eyes, life and death mean nothing. All that matters is what he can get from it.

The moment your car rolls to a stop outside the crumbling Neibolt house, the air changes. Thickens. Smells like cotton candy and sewage and something ancient that wants you. The front door is already hanging open, and before you can even grab your overnight bag from the backseat, he’s there.

Not walking. Materializing.

One second the porch is empty, the next, Pennywise is leaning against the frame in his usual clown suit, bells chiming softly though there’s no wind. His eyes, wild, glowing yellow, are trained on you like you’re the only real thing left in the universe. His bottom lip is pushed out in the most pathetic pout you’ve ever seen on his face.

“You left me,” he says, voice small and cracked, almost childlike. Then it drops two octaves, becoming rough and dangerous. “For a whole week, little one.”

You barely get “I missed you too” out before he’s on you.

Long arms wrap around your waist, lifting you clear off the ground like you weigh nothing. Your bag thuds to the gravel. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and inhales, deep, shuddering, making greedy purring growls against your skin. His whole body trembling. The bells on his suit jingle with every tiny movement as he nuzzles closer, lips brushing your skin, teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver.

“Never again,” he mumbles into your hair, voice muffled and raw. “Never leaving me again. Smelled wrong without you. Everything tasted like ash.”

You laugh softly, fingers threading through the orange fluff at the nape of his neck.

“I had to see my family, Penny. It was just a week.”

He makes a wounded sound and squeezes tighter, like he’s trying to fuse you to him.

“A week is forever when you’re mine.”

Inside, he doesn’t put you down. Carries you straight through the house, up the stairs that creak like they’re alive, into the bedroom that somehow always smells like him. Sweet rot and and something darkly intoxicating. The bed is a nest of mismatched blankets and pillows he stole from who-knows-where just because they smelled faintly of you.

He lays you down like you’re made of glass, but his eyes are starving.

For a long moment he just stares, kneeling between your legs, gloved hands sliding up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher. His pupils are blown wide, yellow swallowed by black.

“I dreamed about you every night,” he whispers. “Dreamed about your taste. Your little sounds. The way you squeeze around me when you cum.” His voice cracks again.

“Thought I’d go mad.”

You reach for him, but he catches your wrists gently, pressing them above your head with one huge hand. The other traces your body like he’s memorizing it, collarbone, breasts, ribs, belly, the curve of your hip. He leans down and presses his lips to every inch he can reach, leaving trails of warm saliva along the way.

“My perfect girl,” he breathes against your stomach. “My soft, warm, breakable girl. Missed how you smell right here—” His nose drags along the crease of your thigh, inhaling deep. “—and here—” A slow, deliberate lick over the fabric of your panties makes you gasp. “—and here.”

He peels your clothes off like he’s unwrapping something sacred. Every new inch of skin gets kissed, licked, nipped. He spends what feels like hours on your breasts alone, sucking bruises into the soft skin, teasing your nipples with his tongue until you’re writhing, begging.

When he finally spreads your legs wide and settles between them, his hands are shaking.

“Look at you,” he groans, voice thick. “Soaked already. All for me. Because you missed your Pennywise just as bad, didn’t you?”

You nod frantically, and he rewards you by dragging his tongue up the folds of your cunt in one slow stripe. The sound he makes, half growl, half sob, vibrates straight through your clit.

He then devours you like only a demonic creature could. No teasing, no games tonight, just pure, desperate worship. Long, flat licks, lips sucking gently, then hard, then gentle again. When he pushes two thick fingers inside you and curls them, you nearly sob his name. He moans in reaturn.

“That’s it,” he pants against your folds, drool shining on his chin. “Cum on my tongue, sweetheart. Show me how much you missed me. Show me you’re never leaving again.”

You shatter with a cry, thighs clamping around his head. He doesn’t stop, his tongue laps you through it, gentler now, cleaning every drop like it’s holy.

When he finally crawls back up your body, his suit is half-unbuttoned, cock straining against the silk. His eyes are wet.

“Need to be inside you,” he whispers, almost pleading. “Need to feel you around me. Need to fill you up so full you’ll never forget who you belong to.”

You pull him down into a kiss, taste yourself on his tongue, taste the salt of tears he’ll never admit to, and wrap your legs around his waist.

He slides in with one slow, perfect thrust that has you both gasping.

He fucks you like he’s trying to crawl inside your skin. Deep, grinding strokes that hit every sensitive spot inside you, hips rolling in that inhuman way only he can manage. His mouth never leaves yours—kissing, biting, licking, like he’s scared you’ll vanish if he stops touching you for even a second.

“Mine,” he growls against your throat, teeth scraping. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasp, nails raking down his back. “Always yours, Penny, please—”

He snarls, pace turning brutal. One hand slips between your bodies to rub tight circles over your clit, the other tangled in your hair, holding you exactly where he wants you.

“Gonna breed you,” he rasps, voice breaking. “Gonna keep you so full of me you’ll feel me for days. Never letting you leave this bed again. Never letting you forget—”

You cum again, harder this time, clenching around him so tight he follows with a feral cry, pumping into you in hot, endless bursts. He doesn’t pull out. Just collapses on top of you, face buried in your neck, arms locked around you like iron bands.

Minutes (or hours) later, he’s still inside you, softening but unwilling to leave. His fingers trace lazy patterns on your back.

“Don’t go again,” he mumbles, voice small and raw. “Please, little one. I’ll be good. I’ll be so good. Just… stay.”

You kiss his temple, smiling against orange curls. “I’m not going anywhere, Penny.”

He makes a soft, happy sound, half purr, half whimper, and nuzzles closer.

Outside, the moon rises over Derry. Inside, the ancient thing wearing a clown’s face clings to his human like she’s the only real thing in every world he’s ever haunted.

You were walking through the streets of Derry, your wide hips swaying like a snake’s. How could anyone not admire such “angelic” beauty? You always greeted everyone with a bright “good morning” and a beautiful smile—one that hid filthy secrets. Who would ever guess that such a lovely young woman could be an entity?

Night was falling fast. The sun disappeared quickly, leaving the city to forget daylight, lit only by the moon and flickering old streetlights.

You sniffed the air, hoping to catch a strong, delicious energy. You didn’t want to waste time devouring random humans, but it was taking too long to find the perfect one. The city didn’t have many potent energies; most were weak and faint.

That frustrated you. Looks like you’d have to drain three humans… or maybe five. But it didn’t take long before your movements froze. Your eyes widened, nostrils flaring. You inhaled deeply and caught it—an intense energy coming from the forest. So powerful it made your mouth water and your body tremble with ecstasy.

“I need this,” you thought, your whole body shaking and tingling. Without hesitation, you plunged into the forest, moving fast. Anxiety raced through you; to cope, you bit your lips in agony.

As the scent grew stronger, you realized it was coming from Derry’s sewers. You stopped in front of that “door.” The drip of water was maddening; the smell of old iron mixed with the energy’s aroma. You almost hesitated—but your body screamed for it.

You crawled into the sewer, entering slowly, every inch of you buzzing with that massive energy. You took only a few steps before stopping to stare at the teenager in front of you: skinny, messy black hair, clothes slightly torn.

“Hi, sweetie.” You stepped closer, looking up at him through your lashes. Your voice, sweet like honey, could make any pubescent kid shiver. “Where are your friends?”

“I don’t have friends…” he confessed, tilting his head slightly to the side—an odd gesture that carried an air of terror. “I’m all alone… Wanna be my friend?”

“Sure…” You were holding back from devouring him right then, sucking every drop of his energy—but it didn’t last. Your hands grabbed his pale face and you pressed your soft lips against his dry ones. You injected all your venom into that kiss; your tongue found his while your curvaceous body pressed against him.

But something felt off. He was panting, yet he did nothing—like he was frozen. You pulled back, staring into those clear blue eyes that slowly started swirling with purple. The venom was in… so why wasn’t he reacting? No hand on your waist, no low moan… Something was wrong.

Confused, you stepped back, now watching him tremble. “Why isn’t it working?” The question hammered in your mind—until he smiled. A creepy, unnatural smile. Then it hit you: this wasn’t human. You should’ve known; it was obvious! But lust had blinded you.

The boy who’d seemed normal began to glitch. Skin tore, body jerked like it was being electrocuted, torn clothes reformed into a clown suit. Average height stretched into something tall—very tall. You jumped back in shock; the human disguise fell away in seconds like self-defense. Your tail lashed like a nervous jaguar’s.

“Oh oh oh! What do we have here?” The thing finally spoke. A clown. A fucking clown. The laugh came out ragged. He tilted his head as he slowly stepped toward you, hands moving in subtle, eerie ways. You backed away, terrified.

Right as you were about to run, the thing grabbed your long tail, squeezing and yanking you back. A pained moan escaped your sweet lips.

It spun you around and seized your throat, lifting you effortlessly. Your body shuddered—not from fear, but from excitement. The venom hit your skin; pain turned to arousal in seconds. You let out a suffering sigh.

The thing opened its mouth, revealing rows of sharp, saliva-drenched teeth. It let out a ferocious growl. You closed your eyes, bracing for the worst… but nothing happened. Instead, it dropped you—your generous ass hitting the wet ground.

Your gaze snapped to the clown, who was now writhing as if in pain. He clutched his head, growling mixed with hoarse mutters.

“What… what did you do to me, you little demon bitch?!” he snarled. His eyes now glowed with lust. His body was probably tingling and burning like fire, arousal overwhelming him.

You could run. This was your chance! You glanced at the exit with hope—but you stayed frozen, as if glued in place. Your eyes fell back on the restless, growling clown.

You made the wrong decision… or maybe it wasn’t so bad. Your small hands touched his; he shuddered at the contact. His eyes widened in surprise, then fixed on you seriously, studying you.

“I-I can… I can help.” You noticed saliva dripping from your mouth—lots of it. Driven by impulse (or pure arousal), you devoured his reddened lips. You watched for his reaction—and to your surprise, the clown grabbed your throat, deepening the kiss. His saliva mixed with yours.

For a few seconds he panted; deep, guttural growls escaped his reddened lips. Gloved hands slid into your hair, gripping tight. You tried to pull back, but he wouldn’t let you. The grip turned aggressive, lips forcing together. You moaned—soft and low, almost approving.

The kiss was messy, frantic, full of excitement—aggressive and dripping with lust. You tried to pull away again, but before you could, his hands became claws. They ripped your gray skin, making you shudder.

“Wait…” you gasped, thighs already soaked with arousal. You loved how aggressive he was.

“Shut up.” His voice came out as a ragged growl. You turned your face, trying to keep some composure. The clown didn’t like that attitude, but he had no time to argue—he needed your kisses. He was suffering from so much arousal. His pointed nose buried in your neck, inhaling deeply.

Your scent was sweet, overflowing with lust. The hint of fear only made it more delicious. Your skin burned like fire. He drooled, sniffing and biting. He didn’t even recognize himself anymore.

“I have something b-better for you…” Your legs trembled from his sheer brutality. You’d never been desired like this. He just muttered a distracted “what,” barely caring about your words.

“Your pain will ease if you fuck me… In exchange, I want your energy…” You rose onto your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, words sweet and tempting. He pulled back to look at you, thick saliva dripping from his lips. He’d probably sucked some of you with it; your neck was likely covered in drool. And that only turned you on more.

“I’m gonna break you, little demon bitch. You’re so small and stinky!” He lied—badly. Just seconds earlier he’d been buried in your neck, growling with lust. You laughed at the weak insult and obvious lie.

“Then break me… Devour me.” You leaned toward Pennywise’s face. He didn’t pull away—in fact, he moved closer. Lips brushed again in wet kisses that didn’t last long; he grabbed your hair and yanked you back.

“Then take it.” He growled. In seconds he flipped you face-down. Your chest slammed against the wall, making you grunt. Claws shredded your short dress, leaving you in only lace panties—already drenched, desperate for attention.

You wiggled your hips teasingly and let out a little giggle. You were playing with danger—and it only made you wetter.

He laughed and slid your panties aside “carefully,” exposing your soaked lips and swollen clit. Sticky fluid dripped from your tight entrance. He stared for a long moment, toying with you.

You waited anxiously. He knew it. Your emotions were flooding the area, suffocating the clown. You felt claws dig into your ass cheeks, scratching, black blood trickling.

“Ah… fuck…” you stammered through moans, feeling his fingers glide over your lips, always teasing your entrance. “Please…”

He laughed at your small plea—a mocking laugh. Then he pulled his hand away. You looked back and saw him crouched in front of your intimacy. He buried his nose, sniffing and licking—careful with the sharp teeth… but not too careful, since pain turned you on.

He licked, sniffed, sucked, shoved his long tongue inside you, making you shudder. In all your existence, you’d never felt like this. It was like the first time.

“Ah, shit…” You clenched your fist; legs shaky, loud moans mixed with curses. You glanced back at him again. The clown did everything while staring at you, purple eyes glowing, studying every emotion.

He didn’t let you come—pulled away, leaving you whimpering in disappointment. And again that mocking laugh. But the disappointment vanished when you felt something press against your entrance.

You looked at the clown standing now. There was an opening in his pants, revealing what looked like a tentacle: pale pink, veined with orange, a small slit at the tip dripping sticky orange fluid. It was horrifyingly huge—thick, long, ridged with veins. Your eyes widened. Maybe fear. Definitely fear.

And he noticed.

“Better spread those legs wide, little devil.” But you did the opposite: you pushed him away with your hand. No way you could take that! He could’ve made it average—or even small—but he made it massive on purpose. He wanted you to struggle, to suffer under his brutality.

He didn’t like your resistance. He grabbed your tail like a handle, yanking your ass back toward the tentacle. You shuddered.

“Spread your legs!” A sharp slap cracked across your ass. You almost screamed from the impact. The shock was huge and painful. Your wide eyes darted to his; you nearly cried.

“Come on, doll. You asked for it—so take it.” He positioned himself and forced his way in. With great difficulty he entered; your walls clenched hard around him. With every inch your legs buckled. Luckily you didn’t fall—the thing’s claws held you tight.

“Ah fuck! Please… slow down, it hurts!” you whimpered. Even though pain mixed with pleasure, you still felt real discomfort—it took time for pleasure to take over.

“I know.” He growled. He squeezed your tail to help thrust deeper. Your slickness eased the way. When he finally filled you completely, a small bulge appeared in your belly. Your eyes watered; tiny tears fell.

Your pussy throbbed, wetter than ever. Your chest heaved, struggling for air.

“Having trouble?” he taunted, starting to move. He gave you no time to adjust to his grotesque size. You moaned in pain. His hips slammed hard against your raised ass. Each thrust drew a loud cry.

You felt drops of saliva fall on your back but didn’t care. Your brain was short-circuiting; you felt like you might pass out.

“You fucking clown bastard!” you cried loudly when he slapped your ass harder. Your legs were no longer steady on the ground. The clown gripped your hips with both claws like you weighed nothing. Low growls escaped his reddened lips.

“Pennywise! If you’re gonna moan, moan my name.” You barely understood what he said. Your eyes stayed closed; only your lips parted, constantly letting out high, sweet moans.

The penetration was brutal and violent. You couldn’t feel your legs anymore—just braced against the wall. Your tail thrashed nervously, sometimes hitting Pennywise’s face, making him grumble. You don’t know exactly how long it lasted, but it hurt. You managed to drain a good amount of energy—but he, who should’ve been tired, seemed even more eager. And you? You were wrecked.

Your hair was a mess, shoulders marked with his bites, saliva dripping down your back. Your pussy was red and raw from the brutality. You only had strength left to moan and beg.

“Enough… Pennywise! Ahh…” You came multiple times and were exhausted. The wet squelching of your pussy scrambled your thoughts.

“It ends when I say so!” he growled, slamming one final deep thrust and ejaculating inside you. Your orgasm mixed with his. The place reeked of filthy sex. You panted, unable to open your eyes. You needed at least a minute to recover.

You took a deep breath, struggling to pull yourself together. But it wasn’t over. He kept thrusting hard, abusing your sensitive intimacy. You whimpered, exhausted. He gave you no time to breathe. You tried to push him away, but he pinned your hand, forcing deeper. He growled loudly, pressing his chest to your back, sniffing your sweet scent again. You were drained, legs shaking. He forced you to stay upright, gripping your hips and guiding your movements.

Wet slapping sounds echoed from your entrance. You simply surrendered—no strength to flee or fight. He abused you, reveling in your pain, your suffering, your struggle to endure such brutality.

It didn’t end anytime soon… and he probably had a new obsession now.

You whimpered, digging your nails into his shoulders. You swallowed, trembling in anticipation.

"Is...is it, uh...in yet--"

Kento slammed into you again, creamy white lube squelching out of you onto the bed as you muffled your cries into the pillow, swearing you could feel him in your ribs.

Kento continued this for three, five, seven, nine, eleven minutes, until you were forced to admit, begrudgingly, that he and his seed were definitely in.

Higuruma:

Hiromi's eyes fluttered open. Having just released a sinful whimper from you sinking down onto his length, his brain suddenly short-circuited in fractious self-doubt and hyper analysis. In the end, nothing he could think took precedence, apart from a dumb:

"I'm-- I'm sorry? Is it...?"

Hiromi grasped your hips, pulling his shirt up and gripping it between his teeth so he could see where you were joined in his lap. He bucked up, just once, pausing for just long enough to shiver and moan at the slick, wet velvet of you. His head tipped back again with a weary sigh.

"You know," Hiromi chastised, grasping your hips to roll you over his cock, his hands strong, confident, "I'm so fucking tired, I'd have believed you. That I wasn't in."

You smirked above him, eliciting hushed whimpers and groans as you started to ride him. Hiromi allowed you to settle into your rhythm, before he berated you again.

"But also," he bickered, "how dare you, you cheeky cow, 'is it in yet', like I don't rail you blind every night with my 'is it in yet'--

You laughed, his chastisement turned punishing as he bounced you on him with glee, comedy turned feral.

"Oooo-ooohhh fuck-- love it when you-- when you think you're being funny-- love it--" Hiromi groaned, his voice muffled, his shirt hem between his teeth again as his eyes fixated on your stretched pussy sliding down his cock. You laughed, whimpering, breathless.

"I--I am funny--"

"--yeah yeah, alright, sweetheart-- keep telling yourself that--"

Toji:

Intending to hold onto your hair just a bit, Toji instead pulled you up fully, from your hands and knees. With your back to his chest, speared upon him, you squealed. You felt the bulbous tip of him bully against your cervix, and squirmed, gasping his name.

"The fuck you mean, 'is it in yet?"?"

You groaned, regretting your decision already. Toji reached up and gently slapped your cheek, until your eyes opened, and he pointed to the mirror in front of you. You could see him smirking over your shoulder.

When he saw your eyes drift to the base of his cock, slick with your arousal, deep inside you, and angled upwards so you could see the bulging underside, he smirked again, twitching his erection once, twice, three times so you could see.

Snapping your moan in half, Toji fucked upwards once, hard.

"Is it in yet?" He mocked, his breaths heavy as he fucked, and you squealed, and he fucked, laughing.

"Is it in yet? Come on baby, tell me. Is it in yet? Is it? Shit, kid. I dunno, I need you to tell me. Is it in yet? Is it in yet?"

If only he'd stop impaling you on him for long enough for you to answer.

True!Form Sukuna:

He laughed. He actually laughed. He only stopped laughing when you, sweating with fearful uncertainty, started laughing too. Then, he grabbed your face, rough in one long-nailed hand.

"What do they teach girls these days?" Sukuna rumbled, tsk-ing, batting your cheek from side to side with his palm and the back of his hand; a cat with a mouse.

"Whatever they teach you," he sighed, with your thighs spread upon his, sat on his throne, "I will offer you the chance to be untaught."

You nodded, panting as he let go of your body, and you choked out and whimpered as you slid further and further down his lower length. You felt the heavy, thickening weight of his upper length, resting against your back.

Sukuna left you like this, hands-free, to be slowly impaled as he watched, almost bored. He seemed to be waiting for something.

"Well, come on then," he drawled, his jaw leaned on one hand, with one finger lazily circling your clit, just to feel your cunt flutter around him, "beg me."

Your brain stuttered, your pussy so stuffed you could hardly think; "Beg--b-beg for...for what...my Lord?"

"Beg me to unteach you whatever drivel it is they taught you, that you should think it funny to ask your master 'is it in yet?'"

You didn't hesitate, babbling, one of his hands circling round to grasp you by the throat as you did. "P-please unteach me, my Lord, I was just being silly, just--just--forgive me--"

Sukuna hummed, his half-smile almost gentle as he began to lift you off him again, enjoying the way your pussy clenched around his lower cock as you choked.

"Lovely manners." He purred. You jolted, gasping as you felt the thick tip of his upper cock begin to squeeze into your ass. You saw stars, blinded by the enormity of him, made dumb by your own stupid attempt at comedy.

day after day, Satoru’s visits to your home just increase, although your father is not surprised since the white haired often joined for dinner, unaware of the constant smiles and flirtatious touches you and the older man share, not to mention the times Satoru has sloppily sucked your pussy for every little drop of delicious slick against the same kitchen counter when your father had to stay longer at the office.

“S’toru” you had murmured a day, legs spread and feet dangling off his shoulders like your panties dangled off one of your ankles, too eager to properly take off your clothes and slide his head under your skirt.

a hum, “yhesh, baby?” not stopping the lewd sucking of his already reddened and plump lips around your tender folds, drooling all over your pussy and dripping down the crack of your ass onto the couch.

“i— u-uh, want you to fuck me” and he stops, your words ringing in his ears like it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard, pulling back slightly to look into your cute half lidded eyes and flustered expression.

“are you sure, honey? i don’t want to pressure you” liar, Satoru could feel the veins of his cock throbbing and tip oozing precum into his expensive boxers.

a weak nod is what he gets, “mhm, i’m sure” why did you have to look so perfect while begging to be fucked? that was utterly unfair.

you’ve come to realize Satoru is a messy, messy man, much different to the pristine suit he always wore, hair perfectly slicked back and masculine cologne that clings to his body and clothes.

who could have expected he was into messy sex?

his fingers are so long, you realize, having them gripping the whole length of your forehead, touching the tops of your eyes, while the palm tightly pressed on the top of your head, pulling you back to meet every impossibly hard thrust of his cock into your soaked cunt, punching the air out of your lungs.

his grip tightened occasionally, mimicking the way your pussy sucked his cock, and pulling you back to give you a messy kiss, having you just lay and take everything like the good girl you are, too fucked stupid to even respond to a kiss that just left you more dizzy, saliva smeared all over your mouth and your insanity slipping with each suck of Satoru’s lips around your tongue.

the pool of slick and precum that stuck to your belly against the sheets was growing uncomfortable, yet unable to voice your complaining since all you could do was gasp little “uh, uh, uh’s” from the way your body jolted back and forth.

“good fuckin’ pussy” how was he even capable of speaking? with how hard he drove into your trembling form, and the way his words came out ragged, you expected for Satoru to go as dumb as you were, yet he didn’t, continuously tensing his jaw and praising the warmth of your cunt, “that’s right baby, such a good girl taking all of my cock into your tiny hole, hngh.. fuck, will make me cum deep into your perfect pussy”

soon your saliva joined the mess in the sheets, with eyes crossed and jaw slack, drooling all over your jiggling tits at the sudden angle change of Satoru’s hips, abusing your g-spot as if attempting to crave the shape of his cock deep inside your walls.

“staying with a friend? alright” how easy to fool was your father, agreeing for you to stay with a made up friend when in reality, you were to stay at Satoru’s penthouse for the nth time, your father’s best friend who was now your boyfriend, and judging the box in his suit jacket, the one you had no idea about, perhaps, future fiance.

“Well... Maybe not desperately but yes, I would love to-”

“I’ll help you”

He said immediately finally turning to you.

“You see”

Cipher started while circling his desk and motioning for you to sit down.

“If you want me to help you, I need to know your powers better. You’re a changer, right?”

The man made his way to the door, then quietly locked them and came back to the desk, leaning against it in front of you.

“Yes”

“What exactly can you change?”

“Well... I can change the size of my whole body or just a part of it. I can also change into another person but that’s... Hard... I haven’t figured it out yet, it just happens randomly”

“I see. Take off your clothes”

“What?!”

You asked flabbergasted and confused, a dark blush appearing on your face.

“You heard what I said. We’re gonna make an experiment. Come on, I don’t have a whole day”

“I’m not going to undress in front of you! That’s so unprofessional!”

“Alright, then you can go and say goodbye to the Top 5”

Cipher said shrugging, as if undressing before a university dean was a normal thing.

“No wait! Alright... “

You sighed defeated. Having spent 3 years at Godolkin, trying your best to rank up with no result, at that point you were very desperate. You slowly and hesitantly took off your beige sweater and plaid skirt, putting them on the second armchair.

“Great, now change them”

Cipher said pointing to your chest covered by a pastel pink bra with little flowers, to which you also had matching bottoms.

“Nice lingerie by the way”

You took a deep breath and enlarged your breasts to which the man shook his head.

“No. Change them to your normal size”

You gave him a confused and suspicious look. How could he know you enlarged them on a daily basis, in reality having small boobs and big insecurities because of that. You changed them to your normal size, now feeling even more uncomfortable, but what wouldn't you do for this stupid ranking. You thought there couldn’t have been anything worse, but you were about to find out you were wrong.

“Same with your ass”

You did as he said, then silence fell in the room. It was so quiet you thought you could hear the clock on his wrist. The man just sat in his chair, looking you up and down without a word.

“Sir, how is this supposed to help?”

“No questions, you’re disturbing my thought process”

You huffed and rolled your eyes annoyed while crossing your arms to cover up your chest.

“Nu-uh, put them down”

Cipher got up and slowly walked up to you.

“Let’s try this”

He said standing in front of you and shoving his hand into your panties.

“What are you doing!?”

You pulled away rapidly but he caught your arm and pulled you back.

“Oh don’t be so innocent all of a sudden. You thought I haven’t noticed how you look at me every time I pass by? How you bite your lip to the point it starts bleeding?”

He run his finger on your bottom lip.

“How your pupils dilate? I don’t overlook anything sweetheart. But I find your behavior peculiar in it’s own way. I bet you touch yourself to my fliers at night, that you imagine me how God created, and I’m sure you think of this right now too”

He pointed to your squeezed legs, and unfortunately he wasn’t wrong. You couldn’t help it, neither could most of the female students. His appearance and presence were just too powerful and so god damn hot that you just couldn’t.

“Now, shall we resume our experiment?”

He whispered right into your ear seductively, his hand creeping down your stomach back to when it was shoved before. And you let it happen. You let dean fucking Cipher of Godolkin University finger you in his office. If that’s not a peak university experience, you didn’t know what was. Your legs wobbled as he worked his way inside you, so you clinged onto him to maintain balance.

“How does it feel?... Tell me.”

He ordered while kissing your neck.

“O-otherworldly...”

“Oh you haven’t felt otherworldly yet, sweetheart”

Suddenly he withdrew his hand and you whined displeased at the emptyness.

“Someone’s needy~”

He slowly licked his fingers off your fluids making you moan at the hotness of the action, then squeezed your butt and picked you up. Reflexivly you wrapped your limbs around him and moaned once again as you felt his hard on against your throbbing centre. Cipher put you down on his desk after rapidly throwing everything off to make space, then unclasped your bra with one move. You quickly covered yourself with your hands, still not feeling entirely comfortable.

“You’re still so shy... That’s cute”

The man grabbed your chin making you look at him then pushed your arms away. Your chest immediately enlarged as you thought it would please him, but he shook his head in disapproval.

“No. Don’t do that. I like you better natural”

You did as he said, returning to your normal state. After a short while of Cipher just standing in front of you and admiring you, you asked.

“Can we-”

“Continue? Yes.”

You helped him free himself after he took off the rest of your lingerie. His member was long but thin, but it made it up with it’s veins. You immediately spat onto your hand and grabbed it, rubbing it slowly, from time to time brushing the tip with your thumb.

“Oh... I feel you know how to please a man”

He groaned in pleasure.

“But we don’t have time”

You paused your unholy actions and instead lined him with your entrance. He smeared his precum all over his member then entered you with one swift motion. You moaned loudly throwing your head back in pleasure and pain. Cipher pinned you down to his desk and threatened.

“You need to be quiet sugar”

You nodded biting your lip, god he was even more hot when possesive. He didn’t fuck around and started to thrust inside of you at a quick pace. You tried to maintain your composure and be quiet, but it was really hard, so the man had to shut you up with his lips. He usually didn’t kiss his situationships on the lips, but it was the only way to shut you up. That or stuffing your mouth with your panties, but he found the first option more appealing. He pulled away for a moment though, to catch a breath, so you had an opportunity to say something.

“Oh god sir... Mmm... T-this feels so g-good"

You tried to be as quiet as you could.

“Call me daddy”

The man straightened and squeezed your hips, sticking his fingers into your skin painfully. He sped up and watched his opus from above. He wouldn’t admit it, but he found you so attractive in that moment, even more than usually, all naked and vulnerable under him. And your quiet moans were like honey to his ears, he could listen to them all the time. But unfortunately the time was chasing you. Cipher started to rub your clit, which you tried to stop because of being overstimulated, but the man was determined to make you cum.

"I-I'm going to cum... D-daddy"

Eventually he pulled out of you just in time for you to cum and, surprisingly, change into him.

“Hm... Now I see why you think of me the way you do”

He commented, seeing himself all sweaty and panting. Once you came down from the high, you changed back to yourself.

“S-sorry about that...”

You whispered ashamed, even though you couldn’t control it yet.

“Don’t be. I consider the experiment a success”

The man said after quickly finishing himself and tucking back into his pants.

“I’ll keep this”

He took your panties off the floor then tucked them in the back pocket of his pants.

“Come on, make yourself presentable. I have a meeting in few minutes”

You obeyed and dressed then made your way to the door without a word.

“Oh, and one more thing. Check the ranking tomorrow”

Smiling widely you thanked him then left excited.

The next day, first thing you did after waking up was checking that fucking ranking and shouting happily on top of your lungs.

“Ugh... Why are you shouting?”

Your roommate asked sleepily.

“I’ve made it to the Top 50!”

♡⑅*˖•. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙🍁*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .•˖*⑅♡