SHOTARO: praise kink & body worship shotaro is the sweetest dom you’ll ever beg for. his number one turn-on is praise. giving it, receiving it, breathing it into your skin while your body trembles under his. he tells you you're perfect every time you moan, cups your face while you cry through your orgasm and whispers “look at you, doing so good for me.” he holds your hips like you’re breakable, like your body is sacred. the kind of sex he gives is slow, deep, and so full of love it makes you feel like crying. he doesn’t rush. doesn’t chase his own release. he’s all about watching you melt. he’s also completely obsessed with body worship. especially when you’re insecure. he kisses your stretch marks, moans into your thighs, holds your tummy while he fucks you deep and tells you how beautiful you are when you break. “this body drives me insane,” he pants, brushing his lips over every inch of skin you once hid from him. he’ll eat you out with his arms wrapped tight around your thighs, eyes locked on yours like he needs to see how it wrecks you. and when you finally cum? he just smiles and says “that’s it, baby. show me how pretty you are.”

EUNSEOK: possessiveness kink & slow dominance eunseok doesn’t play games. he’s a slow, possessive dom. the type to keep eye contact as he eases in inch by inch, lips brushing your neck as he whispers “you’re mine. no one else gets to see this side of you.” he thrives on ownership: hand around your throat, cum dripping down your thighs, hickeys blooming over your chest. his voice stays calm while he wrecks you, every word firm and possessive. “you need me to remind you again? who this belongs to?” it’s not about jealousy, it’s about claiming what’s already his. he likes it slow. painfully, deliciously slow. he’ll tease your entrance with his cock while pinning your wrists, smirking as you whine for more. he wants to drag it out. watch your expression shift as your body gives in, trembling from how deeply he stretches you. “that’s it. take it all, baby.” he keeps your legs spread wide, his hips grinding down, fucking you through orgasm after orgasm until your brain shuts off. and when you’re ruined, shaking in his lap? he kisses your temple and whispers, “you’ll never need anyone else. not when you have me.”

SUNGCHAN: size kink & cockwarming sungchan is big, cocky, and dangerous. he doesn’t even have to say much. just grips your hips, bites his lip, and lets his body do the talking. his size kink is everything to him. he gets off on how small you look under him, how deep he gets inside you, how your stomach bulges just from his tip. “too much?” he grins, pushing in slower, watching you squirm. “nah, you can take it. look how good you’re doing already.” he holds you in place when you try to run, one arm around your waist, dragging out each thrust until you’re gasping. he also loves cockwarming. slipping inside you after a long day, cuddled up behind you, whispering “just wanna stay like this for a while.” he presses kisses to your shoulder, strokes your tummy while keeping you completely full. and when you clench around him? he chuckles low, “mm, baby… don’t start something you can’t finish.” sometimes he teases you with little thrusts. barely there, just enough to make you whimper. he loves knowing you're wet, desperate, trembling… and can’t do anything unless he says so.

WONBIN: jealousy kink & marking obsession wonbin is quiet until he’s not. his jealousy kink simmers beneath the surface. never explosive, just dangerous. the second someone else makes you laugh a little too hard, he’s got a hand on your waist, lips against your ear: “you think he could make you feel half as good as i do?” and the second you’re alone? he claims you. pulls you onto his lap, fucks you slow and rough until you're a crying mess. he doesn’t even need to raise his voice. it’s the look in his eyes, the way his cock presses so deep you feel it in your stomach. “say you’re mine. louder.” his obsession with marking is unreal. hickeys under your jaw, love bites on your chest, scratches down your thighs. every inch of your body needs to look like it belongs to him. he gets high off watching bruises bloom under his mouth, watching his cum drip out of you, wiping it back in with two fingers like “not done yet.” sometimes he’ll fuck you in front of a mirror, one hand on your throat, the other between your thighs, whispering “look at that. covered in me. exactly how you should be.” and then he kisses your lips like you’re his entire world.

SOHEE: brat tamer & orgasm control sohee’s not soft. he likes control. likes when you test him just so he can shut you up with his cock buried deep, lips curling into a grin as you cry. he’s a brutal brat tamer. not just spanking or pinning you down, but really making you beg. “keep talking,” he smirks while edging you with two fingers, eyes never leaving yours. “see where it gets you.” he knows your body too well. knows exactly when to pull away, exactly when to fuck you dumb, exactly when to lean in and whisper “i warned you.” and it only makes you want him more. his orgasm control is insane. he’ll edge you over and over until your thighs are shaking, your voice cracking, and your mind going numb. “not yet,” he murmurs, pulling his mouth away right before you cum. when he finally lets you finish, it’s because you’re sobbing. shaking. clinging to him like you’ll fall apart. and the second you cum? he keeps going. overstimulation, soft praise, his cock dragging through your tight walls while you tremble underneath him. he likes you ruined. not just once, but until you’re broken for real.

ANTON: emotional dominance & overstimulation anton is sweet, soft-spoken, and so dangerously dominant. he gets off on emotional control. the way your body reacts to his voice, his hands, his low murmurs of “you’re mine, baby… all mine.” he holds you like a lifeline and fucks you like you’ll never have anyone else. he likes when you fall apart in his arms. not just from pleasure, but from how deeply he loves you. his touch is slow, heavy, possessive. and when you cry from how much you feel? he kisses your cheeks and whispers “cry for me. i want it all.” his biggest weakness? overstimulation. he’ll drag it out for hours. mouth on your clit until your voice breaks, cock deep inside while your body begs for a break. but he just cups your face and moans “one more, you can give me one more.” and somehow, you do. he’s the kind of lover who breaks you with sweetness. slow grind, wet kisses, praise melting into filth until your body doesn’t even work right anymore. and when you finally collapse? he wraps you up in his hoodie and lets you cry it out, brushing your hair back like you didn’t just cum six times on his cock.

you laughed. “me too.” he leaned forward with genuine curiosity. “what was yours?” trying not to smile you answered, “i suddenly remembered i left the stove on." he laughed much harder than he intended to and before long you were laughing with him.

it was strange. barely thirty minutes earlier you couldn’t wait to leave. now you’d completely forgotten to check the time. when the waiter returned to your table and asked, “are we ready to order?” you looked over at shotaro. he looked back at you before asking with a small smile, “i guess we’re staying?” you pretended to think it over before replying, “i suppose i can survive another hour.” he smiled in obvious relief. “good. because i haven’t actually eaten all day.”

by the time dinner was over the restaurant had started emptying around you yet the conversation never really stopped. somehow you had covered everything from work and family to embarrassing childhood stories and favorite foods without either of you acknowledging that this was technically supposed to be a blind date. when the bill finally arrived both of you reached for it at the same time. your hands brushed together before you instinctively pulled away. “sorry,” you both said at exactly the same time making you laugh all over again. shotaro smiled before asking, “can i be honest?” you nodded. “go ahead.” he hesitated for only a second before admitting, “this was a lot better than i expected.”

you smiled softly. “same.” the obvious relief on his face made you laugh. “i thought you were going to hate me,” he confessed. “i thought you were going to be weird,” you admitted. he raised an eyebrow. “am i not?” you smiled. “not really.” his grin only grew wider. “give me time.”

once you stepped outside the restaurant neither of you actually headed toward your cars. somehow the conversation just kept going. five minutes turned into ten and ten somehow became twenty before either of you noticed. eventually you checked your phone and laughed. “my friend has texted me six times.” shotaro pulled out his own phone before shaking his head with a smile. “my sister has sent eight.” you looked up at him. “should we tell them the date wasn’t terrible?” he pretended to think it over for a moment before replying, “let’s make them wait.” you laughed. “you’re petty.” he shrugged with a guilty smile. “a little.”

you finally started walking toward your car before stopping halfway there. turning back toward him you caught his attention. “hey.” he looked up immediately. “yeah?” you smiled to yourself before saying, “this doesn’t have to count as the blind date.” he tilted his head in confusion. “what do you mean?” you looked at him for another second before answering, “if we go out again let’s call it the first date instead.” for a moment, shotaro simply stared at you almost as though he was making sure he’d heard you correctly. then the biggest smile spread across his face, “i’d like that.”

sungchan

moving into your new apartment is supposed to be exciting. you’ve spent weeks unpacking boxes, figuring out where everything goes, and imagining how peaceful it’ll be to finally have your own space. that illusion lasts exactly one night. at 1:27 a.m just as you’re about to fall asleep music starts blasting through the wall beside your bed. you stare at the ceiling convinced it’ll stop in a few minutes. it doesn’t. by the time it finally goes quiet it’s almost four in the morning.

the next day is miserable. you survive work almost entirely on coffee and convince yourself it was probably a one time thing. maybe someone had friends over and they were celebrating moving in. midnight rolls around again and right on schedule the music starts. this time it’s followed by what sounds like furniture scraping across the floor and something heavy hitting the wall. you bury your face in your pillow and groan. “what are you doing over there?” you mutter to yourself.

by the fourth night you’ve officially run out of patience. you write the nicest note you can manage, carefully avoiding anything passive aggressive.

hi!

i live next door. i was just wondering if you could keep the music down a little after midnight. the walls are pretty thin.

thanks so much!

you tape it to the neighboring door before leaving for work, fully expecting the problem to be solved. when you get home that evening the note is gone. for one hopeful second but you think maybe your neighbor actually listened. he first song starts playing at 12:30am. somehow it’s louder than before. you sit upright in bed, staring at the shared wall in complete disbelief. “you’ve got to be kidding me,” you whisper before throwing the blankets off and marching into the hallway. you knock hard enough that your hand stings. a few seconds later the door swings open and your irritation is interrupted by one very inconvenient realization.

your neighbor is hot. like annoyingly, unfairly, ridiculously hot.

he’s tall and dressed in a black hoodie with gray sweatpants. his messy hair somehow made him look better instead of worse. you immediately decide it doesn’t matter. you drill into your head he happens to be the inconsiderate asshole who’s been keeping you awake every night for the past week. he looks at you for a moment completely unbothered, “can i help you?” you fold your arms across your chest. “yeah. you can turn your music down.” he glances over his shoulder into his apartment before looking back at you. “it’s not that loud.” you let out a short humorless laugh. “that’s funny, because i can hear every lyric from my bedroom.” he shrugs without the slightest hint of guilt. “walls are thin.”

you stare at him waiting for him to realize how ridiculous that sounds. when he doesn’t you ask, “that’s your defense?” he gives another lazy shrug. “it’s an old building.” you blink at him. “i left you a note.” his eyebrows lift slightly in recognition. “that was you?” you nod once. “yes.” he nods back just as casually. “i read it.” you wait for the apology that never comes. after a few seconds of silence you tilt your head. “and?” he shrugs again. “i didn’t think it was that serious.” you actually laugh because the alternative would probably get you kicked out of the building. “i haven’t had a full night’s sleep in almost a week.” instead of looking apologetic he tilts his head curiously and asks, “what time do you wake up?” the question catches you so off guard that you answer without thinking. “six.” he lets out a low whistle. “that sucks.” you blink at him in disbelief. “that’s all you have to say?” he looks genuinely confused by the question. “what do you want me to say?” you stare at him for another second before replying “maybe sorry?” he actually considers it, lips pressing together thoughtfully, before giving a small shake of his head. “nah.”

you can’t believe this man is real. “you’re unbelievable,” you say out loud. he lets out an amused laugh before replying, “i’ve heard that. it’s the confidence that annoys you the most you decide. or maybe it’s the smirk. or maybe it’s the fact that he’s objectively attractive and knows it. you notice it obviously. you’re not blind but there is absolutely no chance you’re giving him the satisfaction of knowing that. he could’ve been the hottest man on the planet and it wouldn’t have mattered. as far as you’re concerned he’s still the inconsiderate jerk next door who’s stolen nearly a week’s worth of sleep from you.

you unlock your apartment door and glance back over your shoulder just long enough to tell him, “you’re the worst neighbor i’ve ever had.” he only smiles wider, completely unfazed, “goodnight.” five seconds later the music starts again. you slowly close your eyes, “i actually hate him.”

the weeks after your first argument are somehow even more irritating than the argument itself. the music never gets quite as loud as it used to which almost makes it worse because you know he heard you. instead he seems to keep it at exactly the volume where he can claim he’s being considerate while still making sure you know it’s on. every time you pass each other in the hallway one of you is always leaving just as the other is arriving. he’ll hold the elevator door open and you’ll take the stairs.

before long, the building starts recognizing you as “the neighbors who don’t like each other.” one afternoon mrs. kim from downstairs catches you checking your mailbox and smiles knowingly. “did you two make up yet?” she asks. you don’t even hesitate before answering, “there’s nothing to make up about.” unfortunately sungchan walks into the lobby just in time to hear you. he glances between you and mrs. kim before the corner of his mouth pulls into a smirk. “see?” he says casually. “we’re making progress.” you roll your eyes so hard you’re surprised they don’t get stuck. “don’t flatter yourself,” you shoot back before grabbing your mail and walking away. you can hear him chuckle behind you and it takes every ounce of self control not to turn around.

he’s irritating.

you’ve accepted that.

what you don’t expect is to come home one friday night with mascara running down your cheeks. the date had started fine. it had ended with your date checking his phone halfway through dinner and admitting he “wasn’t really looking for anything serious" and then asking if you’d be offended if he left early because his friends had invited him out. you’d smiled, told him it was fine, waited until he left, and then spent the entire ride home crying quietly in the back of your uber.

it’s nearly midnight by the time you get back to your apartment building. you wipe quickly at your face before pushing through the front entrance hoping no one notices. of course, your luck runs out immediately. sungchan is sitting on the front steps with a drink in one hand and an earbud in the other. the second he hears the door open, he looks up. “rough night?” he asks but the teasing tone you’re used to isn’t there. you freeze for half a second before looking away silently praying the poor lighting hides your face. it doesn’t. he quietly pulls his earbud out, studies you for another moment and asks much more softly, “someone made you cry?”

you sniff once, already annoyed that he noticed. “mind your business,” you mumble as you start toward the entrance. normally he would’ve answered with something sarcastic. instead he stands and takes a few steps toward you, stopping far enough away that you don’t feel cornered. “come here,” he says gently. you let out a watery laugh and shake your head. “absolutely not.” he doesn’t push. instead he slips his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and watches you for a second before asking, “did he dump you?” you look away, embarrassed by how obvious it apparently is. “something like that,” you admit quietly. sungchan lets out a disappointed sigh before muttering, “idiot.”

you glance back at him, confused. “you don’t even know him,” you point out. he shrugs. “don’t need to,” he replies. “any guy who makes a girl come home looking like that is an idiot.” for a moment you don’t know what to say. it’s easily the nicest thing he’s ever said to you which somehow makes it even more annoying. you look down at the ground and quietly insist, “i’m fine.” he doesn’t buy it for a second. “no you’re not,” he says and when you repeat, “i said i’m fine,” he simply studies you for another moment before shaking his head. “you’re a terrible liar.”

you roll your eyes at him and scoff. “there it is,” he says with a small smile. he looks oddly pleased with himself. you let out a long sigh and rub under your eyes trying to fix your mascara. “don’t make this weird,” you warn. “i’m trying not to.” the two of you stand there in comfortable silence for a few seconds before sungchan looks down at the sidewalk, kicks lightly at a loose pebble, and says almost absentmindedly, “you know i could treat you way better than that.” the words catch you so off guard that you stop moving.

“excuse me?”

he finally looks back up at you and his expression is completely serious. “i’m serious.” you stare at him searching his face for the punchline. he lets out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “look i’m not saying you should date me,” he says quickly only for you to raise an eyebrow and reply, “you literally just implied it.” “yeah,” he admits after a beat. “that came out a lot smoother in my head.” for the first time you laugh. it slips out before you can stop it. the sound makes him smile. you shake your head still smiling despite yourself. you open the door to the building and look back at sungchan, “you’re still the worst neighbor i’ve ever had.” his hands are still tucked into his hoodie pocket as he follows behind you. “yeah?” he asks.

“yeah."

seunghan

seunghan slipped into the lecture hall just before class started, quietly scanning the room until his eyes landed on the only empty seat left. the one beside you. he hesitated for a second. “… is this seat taken?” he asked softly. you looked around the nearly full classroom before shaking your head. “no.” “oh.” he nodded once. “okay.” he sat down carefully, setting his backpack at his feet. after that, he didn’t say another word. halfway through the lecture your professor asked everyone to compare notes with the person beside them because one of the slides had gone by too quickly.

you turned toward seunghan and he looked up at the exact same time. for a second neither of you spoke then he quietly slid his notebook toward you. his handwriting was neat except there were only about four lines of actual notes. you looked at him and he looked away first. “… i write kind of slow,” he admitted. you smiled a little before turning your notebook toward him instead. “you can copy mine.” he blinked, “… really?” you nodded.

the next few weeks settled into an unspoken routine. you always sat in the same seat and he always ended up beside you. sometimes he got there first and put his bag on your seat for yoy. sometimes you did. neither of you ever mentioned it. you noticed he wrote down almost everything the professor said but somehow still looked confused every lecture. he noticed you answered questions without ever raising your hand first. whenever the professor asked something and the room stayed quiet, you would sigh softly before answering anyway and he always looked relieved when you did.

it wasn’t until the first exam grades were handed back that everything finally made sense. you glanced sideways when seunghan let out the quietest, most defeated, “… oh,” before immediately flipping the paper over as though hiding the grade would somehow erase it. you had already seen the bright red forty eight percent. he noticed your expression change and looked like he wanted the floor to open beneath him. “please don’t,” he muttered, refusing to meet your eyes as he gripped the edge of the paper a little tighter. “don’t what?” you asked, keeping your voice gentle instead of teasing. he let out a quiet sigh. “look at me.” his embarrassment was written all over his face. you bit back a smile. “i wasn’t judging you,” you said honestly hoping he’d believe you.

“you should,” he mumbled still staring at his desk instead of you. class ended a few minutes later. you packed your bag while he remained sitting there, staring at the exam as though the grade might change if he waited long enough. you were halfway out of your seat when he finally spoke. “… can i ask you something?” he asked. his voice was so hesitant that you stopped immediately and turned back toward him. “yeah?” you answered, waiting patiently. he rubbed the back of his neck, looking painfully uncomfortable. “… this is embarrassing,” he admitted, letting out an awkward laugh that held absolutely no confidence. “okay,” you said patiently, folding your arms as you waited for him to continue instead of rushing him. he glanced down at the exam in front of him. “… i’m kind of failing now,” he admitted. “kind of?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow. “… very.” his correction came with a defeated sigh that made it impossible not to smile. he noticed immediately. “i knew you were gonna laugh,” he complained though there wasn’t any real annoyance behind it. “i’m not laughing at you,” you replied trying to sound more convincing than you felt. “close enough,” he muttered.

another awkward silence settled between you before he took a deep breath. “would you …” he started, only to stop and shake his head. “… could you tutor me?” his eyes stayed fixed firmly on the floor. before you could answer he rushed to add, “you don’t have to. actually forget i asked. that’s probably weird.” the words tumbled out so quickly it was obvious he was already regretting asking. “seunghan,” you said making him finally look up. “i’ll tutor you.” the answer came so easily that he blinked in surprise “…really?” he asked, searching your face as if he expected you to change your mind. “really,” you confirmed with a small nod. he studied you for another second before asking, “you don’t think i’m hopeless?”

“i think you need help,” you admitted honestly. for the first time since you’d met him, he laughed under his breath instead of apologizing. “that’s probably true,” he agreed, rubbing the back of his neck once more. “library tomorrow?” you asked as you adjusted your backpack onto your shoulder, already knowing what his answer would be. he nodded almost immediatly. “good." you smiled at him, turning around to leave.

the first tutoring session lasted almost three hours. it was not because seunghan wasn’t trying. if anything he was trying too hard. he frowned at every page of the textbook like it had personally offended him and reread the same paragraph four different times. “wait,” he said quietly, tapping the page with his pencil. “if this happened before this … then why are they talking about it here?” his eyebrows pinched together as he looked from the textbook to your notes completely puzzled by what he was reading. you leaned over to see what he was pointing at. “because they’re comparing the two events,” you explained as you drew a quick timeline in the margin of his notebook. “look. if you put them in order first it makes a lot more sense.” you turned the notebook toward him so he could follow the arrows you had just drawn.

he watched you write before looking back at the chapter. “oh,” he murmured as the realization finally beginning to settle in. “does that make sense now?” you asked. you glanced over at him to make sure you hadn’t lost him again. he nodded once. “yeah. i think i was making it more complicated than it actually is.” his shoulders relaxed a little as he looked back down at the page. “you’ve done that with almost every chapter,” you teased. he looked mildly embarrassed. “i have?” he asked. “a little. but im joking,” you admitted with a grin. the answer earned a quiet laugh from him as he rubbed the back of his neck.

by the time the library announced it would be closing soon his notebook looked completely different. it was filled with timelines, arrows, little explanations you’d squeezed into the margins, and enough sticky notes to double its thickness. he closed it carefully before looking over at you. “i actually understood that,” he admitted sounding more surprised than proud of himself. “see?” you smiled. “you’re not bad at history.” you leaned back in your chair happy to finally see some confidence on his face. “i got a forty,” he reminded you. “because you panic,” you answered. “also true,” he admitted with a small sigh.

you packed your things while he slowly organized his backpack. just as you slung your bag over your shoulder he spoke again. “can i ask you something?” his voice was hesitant enough that you stopped before taking another step. you turned back toward him. “sure." his fingers fidgeting with the zipper of his backpack. “how much do i owe you?”

you blinked in confusion. “for today,” he clarified. “or all of it i guess. however you charge.” the explanation came out in one nervous rush like he was trying to get it over with before he lost his courage. you couldn’t help smiling. “charge?” you repeated. he nodded immediately. “you spent three hours helping me.”

“i know,” you replied.

“so" he looked down at the table for a second before continuing. “it doesn’t feel right if i don’t pay you.” you pretended to think about it for a moment, tapping your finger against your chin. “okay,” you said eventually, watching him immediately reach for his wallet.

“one date.”

his hand stopped halfway to his pocket. “what?" “one date,” you repeated. “that’s how you can pay me.” he stared at you. “… a date?” the question sounded more like he was asking for confirmation that he’d heard you correctly. “yeah,” you answered trying not to laugh at the expression on his face. he looked around the library like someone else might explain what was happening. “with …” he slowly pointed at himself. “… me?” the disbelief in his voice made your smile even wider. you laughed softly. “yes, seunghan. with you.” his mouth opened and then closed. “are you serious?” he asked. "why wouldn't i be?" you tilted your head. "i thought you were just being nice to me.” he looked down at the table again. “i was,” you answered honestly. “no,” he corrected quietly. “i mean … i didn’t think his His sentence faded away before he could finish it. you decided to help him out, “liked you?” “yeah,” he admitted after a long pause.

you smiled at him. “i do.” he looked down at the table for a few seconds, smiling to himself before finally looking back up again. “i think that’s cheaper than tutoring,” he joked quietly. “depends where you take me,” you answered with a grin. “i can probably afford coffee,” he offered. “coffee sounds perfect,” you watched him nod almost immediately. “okay,” his tone was a little more confident. “it’s a date.”

wonbin

wonbin’s first memory of you was you shoving him hard enough that he landed on the wood chips underneath the playground slide back in kindergarten. he hadn’t even done anything. he’d just been waiting his turn. you looked down at him for a second before climbing up the slide like nothing had happened. when the teacher asked what happened, you shrugged innocently, “he fell.” wonbin looked at you in complete disbelief.

he knew you pushed him and you knew you pushed him.

somehow you still got away with it. that became a pattern throughout the school year. you weren't mean to anyone else. it was just to him. if he was quietly coloring, you’d lean over and scribble on the edge of his paper before running away laughing. if he built something during free play, you’d “accidentally” knock it over. if he lined up first after recess you’d squeeze in front of him.

every time your teacher caught you she’d let out the same tired sigh before looking between the two of you. “again?” she would ask. “it was an accident,” you’d insist every single time. your teacher would cross her arms, “you’ve had a lot of accidents around wonbin,” she’d point out patiently. you’d glance over at him for a second before looking back at your teacher with an awkward little shrug. “… yeah.”

after a while wonbin stopped trying to defend himself. instead he’d quietly pick his crayons back up off the floor, rebuild whatever you’d knocked over, or step back into line after you’d squeezed in front of him. “why are you like this?” he’d mumble, sounding confused rather than angry. you never had an answer for him because you genuinely didn’t know. all you knew was that if wonbin was somewhere, you somehow ended up there too.

it got bad enough that one afternoon wonbin’s mom finally walked into the classroom after school to talk to the teacher. she’d watched her son come home one too many times complaining about the same little girl and she couldn’t understand why you seemed to have made him your personal target. your mom happened to be picking you up at the same time and before long both of them were standing outside the classroom while the teacher explained, with the exhausted expression of someone who’d repeated herself a hundred times already, that you only ever seemed to bother one child. “she’s actually very sweet with everyone else,” the teacher admitted. “it’s just … wonbin.”

wonbin’s mom looked over at you where you were hiding halfway behind your own mother’s leg before looking back at your mom with an apologetic smile. “i promise i’m not upset,” she said gently. “i’m just trying to figure out what my son did.” your mom sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “trust me,” your mom replied, “i’ve been asking her the same question for months.” she crouched down in front of you and asked, “why are you being so mean?” you stared at your shoes for so long that all four adults thought you weren’t going to answer. finally you shrugged. “i don’t know.” and somehow that was the truth. you weren’t trying to be mean. you just couldn’t seem to leave him alone.

the conversation didn’t magically fix everything. you still bothered him all through the rest of kindergarten, although the shoving slowly turned into smaller things. you’d hide his eraser in your desk and then dramatically “find” it when he couldn’t. sometimes you’d sit in his chair before he got back from sharpening his pencil just because you thought the annoyed little sigh he’d let out was funny. every single time he’d look at you with the exact same expression and ask, “seriously?” and every single time you’d grin back like you hadn’t done anything wrong.

by first grade, though, the teasing had started to lose its edge. you still bothered him but now you also talked to him. if you stole his pencil, you’d hand it back after making him chase you around the classroom once. if you cut in front of him in line, you’d save him the spot next to you. somewhere along the way the teachers stopped separating the two of you because somehow you always found your way back to each other anyway.

that spring your class read a picture book about something you forgot about and your teacher decided the best way to celebrate finishing it was with a pretend wedding. construction paper flowers covered the classroom, paper rings were passed around, and everyone’s names were pulled out of a bucket to decide the pairs. when your teacher unfolded the slip of paper with both your names on it wonbin buried his face in his hands while you looked around in complete horror. “not him,” you complained immediately. “not her,” wonbin answered just as quickly.

the ceremony lasted less than five minutes. your teacher handed both of you little paper rings, “do you promise to be nice to each other?” wonbin answered first with a quiet, “i’ll try.” you crossed your arms stubbornly before mumbling, “… fine.” you looked over at wonbin expecting him to look as embarrassed as you felt only to find him trying very hard not to laugh. against your own will you laughed too.

after that day things slowly became different. by middle school you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d shoved him. instead you found yourselves sitting together during lunch because it was easier than finding new seats. you’d walk home in the same direction after school, complaining about homework or teachers or whatever game everyone was obsessed with that month. one afternoon wonbin stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked at you suspiciously. “you haven’t stolen anything from me in like … two years.” you blinked at him. “do you want me to?” he laughed immediately. “no.”

freshman year of high school arrived before either of you really noticed. one afternoon after classes ended the two of you ended up sitting on the football field while everyone else headed home. you were talking about elementary school when wonbin suddenly shook his head with a quiet laugh. “you know,” he admitted, “i really thought you hated me back then.” you looked over at him in complete disbelief. “what?” he smiled. “you bullied me for, like, two years.” you covered your face with your hands. “i know.” for a long moment neither of you said anything. then you looked over at him again. “can i ask you something?”

wonbin turned toward you without a second thought. “sure,” he answered, completely unaware of where the conversation was about to go. you took a small breath before finally saying it. “will you go out with me?” for a second wonbin thought he’d heard you wrong. “are you serious?” he asked quietly. he searched your face to see if you were joking. you nodded once but all of the confidence you’d had thirty seconds earlier had completely disappeared. “yeah,” you admitted, suddenly finding the football field much more interesting than looking at him.

wonbin didn’t answer right away. slowly the corners of his mouth lifted into the softest smile “i’ve been waiting for you to ask,” he confessed. you immediately looked back at him with a frown. “you couldn’t have asked me?” you complained. wonbin laughed, shaking his head as he leaned back on his hands. “i figured i’d already survived kindergarten,” he teased, looking over at you with a grin. “i didn’t want to push my luck.”

sohee

sohee met you before either of you could properly spell your own names. your moms had been friends so it was almost impossible to find you without sohee. if someone asked where you were, the answer was usually, “with sohee.” if someone asked where sohee was, the answer was usually, “with yn.”

the only problem was that somewhere around middle school sohee stopped looking at you like just his best friend. by freshman year of high school, he was hopelessly enamored with you. everyone else figured it out long before you did “just ask her out,” sungchan would tell him.

“she doesn’t like me like that," sohee played with his grey mystery food from the cafeteria. “how do you know?” seunghan pressed. sohee would just shrug. you treated him exactly the same as you always had. you held onto his arm when you were cold and asked for his hoodie. you called him whenever something good happened. you made him carry your backpack when your shoulders hurt. you told him every crush you had, every almost relationship, and every guy who’d asked for your number. every single time sohee smiled, nodded, gave whatever advice you asked for. then he went home wondering why he kept doing this to himself. “you’re literally in love with her,” anton sighed in your junior year. “i know," sohee buried his head in his hands. he raised his eyebrows, “and you’re still listening to her talk about other guys?” sohee looked down before quietly answering, “she’s my best friend first.”

if being her best friend was all he’d ever get to be he’d take it. he’d rather have that than lose you entirely.

senior year started but something about that year felt different almost immediately. you started choosing the seat next to him instead of across the room. you lingered after basketball practice to wait while he finished helping clean up. you texted him about nothing more often. he noticed every little change and refused to let himself hope. it wasn’t until october that everything shifted.

you’d gone to a school football game together, squeezed onto the cold aluminum bleachers with the rest of your friends. everyone else eventually wandered off for snacks, leaving the two of you alone. it was colder than expected. without thinking you reached over and slipped your hand into the pocket of his hoodie to warm it. you’d done things like that before yet sohee couldn't help but stare. after a minute you looked over, “why are you looking at me like that?”

he blinked, “…like what?”

“like your brain stopped working." you laughed quietly while sohee stared at you still, shaking your head before looking back toward the field “you’re cute.” his heart stopped. from that night on you started noticing things you’d somehow ignored for years. you noticed the way he always walked on the outside of the sidewalk and the way he remembered every tiny thing you mentioned, even months later. one afternoon, a few weeks later, you were sitting on the hood of his car after school. you looked over at him, “can i ask you something?" you hesitated for a moment before looking over at him. “how long have you liked me?” sohee went completely still. "who told you?” “nobody.” you shrugged, picking at the skin by your nails. “i just finally noticed.” he looked down at his hands, embarrassed enough that the tips of his ears turned pink. “a while.”

“how long is ‘a while’?” you asked. he let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “do you really want to know?” when you nodded he took a slow breath before quietly admitting, “since i was thirteen." your eyes widened. “thirteen?” he nodded, "i just thought the crush would go away."

“and?”

he finally looked over at you with the same soft expression he’d been wearing for years. “it didn’t. the two of you sat in silence for a long moment. then you smiled. “you know” you nudged his shoulder gently with yours. “i think i’m finally catching up.” he frowned in confusion. “what?”you looked away. suddenly the parking lot much more interesting than his face. “i said i think i’m finally catching up.” he looked at you confused, “to what?” you groaned, already feeling your confidence slipping away. “sohee.” he frowned in confusion. “what?” you rolled your eyes, “to you and your feelings. ” it took a full five seconds for the words to register. finally his eyes went impossibly wide, "wait.” you laughed nervously. “yeah.” he blinked at you again still trying to process what he’d just heard. “wait.” you covered your face “you’re really making me regret saying this.” "no. no, don’t.” he was smiling so hard it made you smile too. “i just” he shook his head in complete disbelief before laughing quietly to himself. “i’ve wanted to hear that for years.” you reached over and intertwined your fingers with his. “good thing we still have senior year left.” sohee looked down at your hand resting in his before giving it the gentlest squeeze. he’d spent four years convincing himself that being your best friend was enough. he never imagined he’d get to be anything more yet here you were.

anton

anton hadn’t even wanted to go to the party. if it had been up to him he would’ve spent the night at his apartment watching a movie or catching up on assignments. but wonbin had shown up at his door with the sole purpose of dragging him out of the house. after nearly twenty minutes of complaining that college parties weren’t his thing anton eventually gave in mostly because he knew wonbin wasn’t going to leave until he did.

you, on the other hand, had been looking forward to the party all week. by the time anton and wonbin walked through the front door you’d already been there for hours. the music was deafening, the house was packed shoulder to shoulder with people, and somewhere between your first drink and whatever you were up to now someone had convinced you that dancing on top of the living room coffee table was a fantastic idea.

from where anton was standing he noticed you almost immediately. it was practically impossible not to. you were loud enough for half the house, laughing so hard you nearly doubled over as your friends cheered you on from below. he barely had enough time to wonder before you took one step backward and your foot slipped on the edge of the table. suddenly you were falling directly toward him.

he instinctively reached out to catch you but instead the two of you crashed into each other and ended up sprawled across the sticky hardwood floor. for a second neither of you moved. you looked up at the poor stranger you’d just fell on and blinked at him through your alcohol induced haze. you burst into laughter. anton’s face was bright red before he’d even managed to sit up. any normal person probably would’ve apologized, introduced themselves, and never spoken to each other again.

They had all fawned over you, boring you to death with bad poetry and compliments to your parents… except Shotaro. He never even looked at you. He spent the whole night pocketing your parents’ silver and trying to seduce one very scared maid. It was like he would rather be anywhere than there. Like you were a joke.

You didn’t even like him. But you couldn’t just let him ignore you.

Taking a deep breath, you yelled, “SHOTARO IS TRYING TO-”

Before you could finish your sentence, a hand pressed hard over your mouth. It was not a polite hand. It was a rough, careless hand. It bruised your lips and made the skin of your cheeks burn.

Shotaro was standing behind you, locking your head to his chest, his hand pressed over your mouth to stop you crying out.

“What the hell?” Shotaro hissed. “I knew you were a stuck up bitch, but that was just wow.”

You huffed, trying to slip out of his grasp. He did not budge an inch.

“Why did you do it?” Shotaro said, his voice teasing. “Are you that worried about breaking Mama and Papa’s rules? Or do you actually want me here?”

You dug your nails into his wrist. He let you go with a curse.

You wiped your mouth. “I never wanted you here. I just refuse to help someone who’s been rude to me all night.”

“So that’s what it is,” Shotaro said, wandering around your room, flicking your teddy bears. “You’re angry at me because I’m not begging for your hand in marriage.”

You crossed your arms over your tight gown. You couldn’t say anything, because he was right.

Shotaro strolled towards you, until he was barely a foot away. No longer slouched, he suddenly stood tall. In his black velvet suit, silhouetted in the moonlight, he was just a shadow. A shiver ran down your spine. The myths about him - breaking into his parents’ wine cellar, getting that girl pregnant - were they true?

“Well, you’re just not my type, Y/n,” he said softly. “I prefer women who are a little… hotter. The kind of women who won’t cry if a man doesn’t want them. They’ll do something about it.”

You reached out, grabbed Shotaro’s hand, and pressed it between your legs.

You felt him grip the silk of your dress, hard. He buried his fingers in your soft mound.

“So you’re just as much of a slut as the rest of them,” he said, his plump lip curling in disgust.

Still, he didn’t let go.

You lifted your dress with your other hand, and moved his hand so it grabbed your panties. Almost on instinct, his fingers felt out the lacy trim of your underwear, twirling your pussy hair. Then they froze.

“I’m sorry baby, but I can get it a lot easier than this,” he said, his voice thick. “Better too.”

You looked down at his bulge, which had grown sizeably in the last few moments. It was straining at the velvet of his trousers, lifting up his obscenely large gold belt buckle.

“Then why are you hard right now?” you laughed.

Shotaro let out a huff of displeasure. Still, his hands started moving almost on their own. His thumb found your clit instantly, rubbing in quick, experienced strokes. One of his fingers slipped into your heat. You felt a burn as you stretched around him.

Your whole body shuddered. You couldn’t help it. You hadn’t thought this far forward. And you definitely hadn’t expected him to be this good.

“Every little girl is the same…” Shotaro said to himself, licking his lips and walking you back to your bed.

That made you angry. Still, it was hard to complain when his fingers were in your pussy.

He shoved your shoulder down on the bed. That was the thing about Shotaro. Every time he touched you, it was like being tackled by a rugby player. He didn’t touch a woman any different to a friend, or an enemy. It was all a game to him.

His hands ran up your thighs, pushing your dress to your waist. Suddenly, he was kneeling on the floor by the bed. His long, hot tongue licked up from the crease of your knees, to your thighs. He scrabbled for your underwear, throwing it on the floor.

“Wait. What the hell are you doing?” you said, your heart racing. You’d expected him to fuck you. You didn’t know about this other thing. What was his tongue doing there?

“Tell me one thing,” Shotaro said, in between kisses to your thigh. “Is this your first time?”

You considered lying, then whispered, “Yes.”

You could feel Shotaro’s grin against your leg. He actually laughed, and it felt mean, but the vibrations felt good.

“Then just lie back and don’t worry. You can’t get pregnant from this one.”

Then his tongue started licking up and down your pussy. He sucked your lips, releasing them with an embarrassingly loud pop. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before. You were lost between the coolness of his spit and the hot, rough buds on his tongue.

He was rubbing his hands up and down your thighs the whole time, like a man possessed. When you let out a moan, he got excited, and pressed your knees backwards, hard enough that your muscles ached.

At first, the feeling was only strange and sort of relaxing. But when he thrust a finger inside you, you felt a heat in your pussy, and an intense pressure, like you were going to wet yourself.

Before you could even recognise that feeling as your orgasm, you were shuddering, your whole body convulsing as you came on Shotaro’s face. He rubbed his face against your juices, a low groan of satisfaction rumbling in his chest.

You scrambled back on your bed. You felt scared and satisfied all at once.

He crawled onto the bed after you, his shoulders sticking up like a panther’s.

You knew that just because Shotaro was in your bed didn’t mean the battle was over. This was another way of showing you that he didn’t care about you. Well, that suited you fine. He was nothing but a conquest to you too.

He worked his belt open and let his trousers hang around his knees. He had nothing like underwear to speak of. You barely saw the outline of his dick before he was moving over you.

He planted a hand next to your head. He arched his back so he could look down and run his hand over his dick in quick strokes.

Then he licked his lips and shuffled closer to you.

”Wait,” you said, clearing your throat. “What about what you said. About not getting pregnant.”

Shotaro addressed his words to the space between your legs. “Same policy. Lie back and don’t worry about it.”

He must have fucked you for less than a minute. He thrust into you in long strokes that made your pussy ache and your whole body shake on the impact. Almost as soon as he started, he was panting harshly in your ear, kneading your breasts in rough circles and scratching lines down your stomach.

Then his eyes were rolling back in his head, his mouth hanging open. He let out a long, high pitched sigh of your name, then stickiness collected between your legs. There was nothing like enough time for you to come again.

“Am I so irresistible, eh?” you said. Your bravado was hiding a good bit of fear. “The great playboy of the eastern world is whimpering out my name.”

“Nice one,” he said, breathing out sharply. “I was worked up. Four hours of boredom at a family dinner can do that to a man.”

It stung as he pulled out of you.

You got up, straightening your dress, and crouched on the floor, looking for your underwear.

“Here,” Shotaro said, opening his fist to reveal the mess of white fabric. “I like to keep it. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Actually I do, prick.”

Shotaro was straddling your window, pushing up the frame and looking out at the dark night. “I’ll have to give it back to you next time,” he said quickly. “That is, if you don’t scream for mummy and daddy and get me in trouble.”

You considered telling on Shotaro, but you realised that with your messed up hair and soaked bedsheets, that might not benefit you.

“Fine,” you said, your heart thudding.

Shotaro gave you a wink.

Then he dropped down, and disappeared.

—

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist 💋

RIIZE fame series masterlist

— eunseok ୨ৎ

— sungchan ୨ৎ

— wonbin ୨ৎ

— seunghan ୨ৎ

— sohee ୨ৎ

— anton ୨ৎ

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

it had been exactly a week since the trip—seven days of restless nights tangled in sheets, unable to chase away the memories etched into your skin by osaki shotaro. seven days spent with your thoughts running wild, replaying the shift in his demeanor, the abrupt, thrilling plunge from gentle courtesy to dark dominance that had left you aching for more.

before that weekend, shotaro had existed solely in the glow of gentle smiles and tender gestures, a golden boy wrapped in perpetual sweetness. he’d carried your bags without complaint, driven you anywhere without hesitation, cooked meals with careful hands and soft laughter that lingered in the air like music. he’d always been quiet charm personified, every bit the gentleman you believed him to be.

until he wasn’t.

until that humid evening, thick with lingering heat and flushed skin, alcohol burning just enough in your veins to blur boundaries. until his eyes had darkened, revealing something primal beneath that polished exterior—a glimpse into a storm waiting to break. his voice had dipped dangerously low, his touch rough and possessive, shattering any illusion of innocence you’d once held onto so tightly.

the aftermath had left you craving, restless, and waiting for the moment when lightning would strike again.

tonight, you busied yourself aimlessly in your small apartment, wandering from the kitchen to the living room, rearranging cushions that didn’t need adjusting, wiping down surfaces already clean—anything to distract yourself from the gnawing anticipation that simmered beneath your skin. the television murmured quietly in the background, a dim haze of meaningless noise, and your thoughts drifted back to the shape of shotaro’s fingers gripping your hips, the searing intensity of his gaze that had branded itself onto your very soul.

the sharp knock at the door shattered your reverie like glass, making your pulse leap violently in your chest. instinctively, you glanced at the clock—it was late, too late for casual visits—and your breath caught sharply in your throat. excitement surged, quickening your heartbeat as you moved toward the door, each step an echo of nervous exhilaration.

when you opened it, your mouth went dry.

shotaro stood there, haloed by the dim glow of the hallway lights, shoulders rigid beneath the weight of stress. his hair, usually meticulously styled, was disheveled, dark strands falling carelessly across his forehead. his brows were drawn tight, carving a shadowed crease between them that made your stomach tighten with anticipation. the tense line of his jaw was etched deep, his fingers white-knuckled around the strap of his bag as if it was all he could do to maintain control.

without a word, you stepped aside, allowing him entry.

he moved past you swiftly, silent but radiating barely restrained agitation. his bag hit the floor beside the couch with a heavy thud, punctuating the heavy stillness of the room and jolting your heart into a quicker rhythm. tension rippled through his muscles as he shrugged out of his hoodie with deliberate slowness, each movement purposeful, barely veiling the intensity simmering just beneath the surface. his jaw clenched and unclenched, and the tendons of his neck strained against his skin like cables pulled taut, ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

when he finally turned, his dark eyes lifted slowly to yours, holding a sharpness that pinned you in place—rooted and trembling beneath his scrutiny.

“assignment’s due tomorrow,” he muttered, voice edged with frustration, the words rough and strained as he dragged an agitated hand through his tousled hair. “group project. no one’s doing their damn part.”

you swallowed thickly, mouth dry as you struggled to form a reply, heart thumping wildly in your chest. “sounds terrible,” you murmured, voice barely audible, betraying your growing awareness of what his presence meant, what he was really here for. your pulse quickened as he studied you, gaze unflinching, piercing through your thin façade of calm.

his eyes narrowed subtly, as though sensing exactly how your body responded to his tension—the telltale tightening of your thighs beneath the oversized shirt, the shallow flutter of your breathing, the way your fingers nervously twisted the hem of your tee. the corner of his mouth lifted fractionally in recognition, something darkly amused flickering behind his irises as he took a measured step closer.

“yeah,” he echoed flatly, his voice low, laced with a carefully restrained anger. “i’m fucking pissed.”

the air around you thickened, weighted by anticipation, his gaze dragging over your figure with deliberate slowness, lingering hungrily on the exposed expanse of your legs. your pulse skipped erratically, excitement sparking like wildfire beneath your skin.

“you’re quiet,” he observed, voice deceptively soft, eyes narrowing again with suspicion.

“didn’t want to bother you,” you managed, the words breathless, betraying every ounce of your eagerness. “you seemed stressed.”

he let out a humorless laugh, short and bitter, the sound vibrating through you. “stressed doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

your breathing hitched as he closed the gap entirely, near enough that the scent of his familiar cologne—warm, woodsy, laced faintly with coffee—wrapped around you like a vice. he towered over you, gaze dark and commanding, utterly inescapable. his proximity sent heat cascading down your spine, pooling low in your belly with every ragged breath you took.

“need to blow off some steam,” he murmured, voice low and dangerous, the subtle threat beneath his words sending your heart racing. 

his eyes were molten now, shadowed with intent, and you felt every cell in your body respond, anticipation building relentlessly beneath your ribs.

“think i know the best way to do it. do you?” he asks quietly, gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that was impossible to escape.

your lips parted slightly, breath catching in your throat, unable to form coherent words beneath the weight of his stare. you didn’t need to speak because he saw everything in your eyes, the way your resolve crumbled beneath his intensity, how badly you’d been craving this.

a satisfied glint sparked behind his gaze as he leaned in, lips brushing softly against your ear, sending electricity skittering down your spine.

“i hope you didn’t have any plans for the rest of the night,” he whispered darkly, breath hot against your skin, a quiet promise of everything to come.

before you could reply, his hand encircled your wrist, grip firm and possessive, pulling you behind him as he led you down the narrow, dim corridor to your bedroom with strides that echoed like thunder in a brewing storm. each footfall pulsed through you, his frame a coiled serpent radiating lethal intent, leaving your breaths ragged and shallow, caught in the vortex of his gravity.

you followed, pulse hammering, excitement swirling thickly in your chest, your whole body humming with anticipation. the moment the door closed firmly behind you, shut with a decisive click, shutting out the world, you knew without a doubt that tonight would entail all the nasty things that had kept you up at night the past few days.

shotaro stood before you, silhouetted in the lamp’s amber haze like a predator emerging from twilight, his eyes twin infernos devouring you whole as he advanced, deliberately, each step echoing through your senses.

your spine met the chilled wall with a shiver as he closed in, breath ghosting warmly across your lips, fingers skimming lightly over the curve of your jaw, the touch deceptively gentle. he tilted your chin upward firmly, forcing your gaze to meet his, a silent challenge sparking within their depths.

“you know i like you right?,” he purred, words slithering like silk-wrapped venom, his thumb grazing your lower lip with deliberate pressure, igniting sparks that raced down your spine like lightning forking through the night sky.

your breath stuttered, heart racing beneath his fingertips as you nodded slowly, not knowing where he was going with this.

a feral curve twisted his lips, satisfaction glinting darkly behind his gaze as he dipped closer, lips hovering teasingly against yours. 

“good,” he rasped, the word thick with shadowed intent, his exhale stealing yours, weaving your essences in a tangled haze. “remember that when i fuck you like i don’t.”

his mouth crashed onto yours, rough and demanding, stealing your breath and obliterating every coherent thought. shotaro kissed you fiercely, possessively, fingers gripping your waist hard enough to bruise, his body pressing you firmly into the wall. you melted beneath his force, surrendering willingly to his dominance, every touch a searing reminder of just how deeply he’d gotten beneath your skin.

by the time he broke away, breathing harshly, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, you were trembling, lost in the intensity of the moment. he leaned his forehead against yours briefly, breath mingling raggedly between you.

“get on the bed,” he commanded quietly, voice raw and edged with barely suppressed need. “let me fuck this anger out of me.”

the thrill of anticipation rushed through you like wildfire, your heartbeat thundering, pulse thrumming eagerly beneath your skin. obediently, you moved toward the bed, feeling his heated gaze tracing your every step. you sank onto the mattress, anticipation pooling hotly in your chest, unable to tear your eyes from him as he followed close behind, movements precise, deliberate, predatory.

looming over you, his gaze blackened to obsidian voids as his fingertips danced up your thigh, snagging the shirt’s edge and dragging it upward in torturous increments, unveiling skin that quivered like dew-kissed petals under dawn’s first blush. but his touch wasn’t patient; fingers dug in sharper than necessary, nails scraping lightly against your flesh, leaving faint red trails that stung sweetly, a prelude to the storm.

“spread them for me angel,” he muttered, voice gravel-rough, no room for negotiation, his free hand shoving your thighs apart with brusque force, exposing you to the cool air that kissed your heated core like a whisper of impending chaos.

you gasped at the suddenness, arousal pooling slick between your folds as he knelt between your parted limbs, his breath hot against your inner thigh, jaw clenching visibly as he fought the urge to dive in without mercy. 

but even in his frustration, he lingered, just enough to tease, to build the ache. his lips brushed the sensitive skin there, a ghost of a kiss before his teeth grazed, nipping sharply, sending jolts of electric pain-pleasure radiating upward. 

“fuck, you’re already wet,” he groaned, the words muffled against your flesh, his fingers parting your lips with rough precision, exposing your clit to the pad of his thumb, which circled it once, twice, with deliberate slowness that belied his impatience.

your hips bucked instinctively, seeking more, but he pinned you down with one forearm across your pelvis, his shoulders taut as bowstrings, jaw locked in determination. 

“don’t fucking move,” he hissed through gritted teeth, though his eyes betrayed the war within, wanting to ravage, yet drawing it out to heighten the torment for you both. his tongue flicked out then, tracing a hot, wet path along your slit, tasting you with a low, guttural hum that vibrated through your core. 

it wasn’t gentle laps; it was insistent, probing, his frustration manifesting in the way he sucked your clit between his lips, teeth grazing just enough to make you whimper, the suction pulling blood to the surface, swelling it under his assault.

sweat beaded on his forehead, his free hand gripping your thigh bruisingly, fingers sinking into soft flesh as he devoured you like a man starved, tongue delving deeper, curling inside you to lap at your essence, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room. your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling, but he growled against you, the vibration sending shockwaves that had your back arching, toes curling. 

he wasn’t in the mood for sweet; each stroke was edged with aggression, his jaw working relentlessly, shoulders rigid as he channeled his pent-up energy into making you squirm, into wringing gasps and pleas from your throat.

“s-shotaro..fuck,” you moaned, the pressure building too fast, your body trembling under his unyielding mouth.

he was a man possessed, starved for days in a barren wasteland, now feasting on you like you were the only sustenance left in a dying world, his tongue plunging deep into your dripping core, lapping up your slick with greedy, insatiable hunger, the wet, obscene slurps echoing through the room like a filthy symphony. spit mixed with your arousal, dribbling down his chin in messy streams, coating his lips and jaw as he sucked harder, his nose buried against your clit, grinding against it with every desperate bob of his head.

your legs quaked violently around him, thighs clamping instinctively around his ears in a vise of overwhelming sensation, but he didn’t care—didn’t flinch, didn’t slow. if anything, it fueled him, his hands prying your thighs wider with bruising force, nails digging crescent moons into sweat-slicked skin, holding you open like a banquet he refused to share. 

“stop.fucking.running,” he growled into your folds, the vibration ripping another guttural moan from your throat, loud and unrestrained, bouncing off the walls in raw, desperate echoes. heat radiated from his body, a furnace pressed between your legs, his sweat mingling with yours as it beaded on his forehead, trickling down to mix with the slick mess coating your inner thighs.

you yanked at his hair, fingers twisting in the damp strands, pulling hard enough to sting, trying to ground yourself or maybe pull him away from the brink he was shoving you toward, but he only dove deeper, tongue fucking into you with relentless, starving thrusts, devouring every drop of your essence like a parched wanderer gulping from an oasis. 

the room reeked of it—musky desperation, salty sweat, the heady tang of your arousal thickening the air, making every breath you took feel heavy, laced with the filth of it all. your hips bucked wildly against his face, grinding shamelessly, chasing the edge as he sucked your clit between his teeth, nipping just enough to send sparks of pain-laced pleasure shooting through you, your moans turning to sobs, loud and broken, filling the space with your unraveling.

he was merciless, a beast unchained, his frustration pouring out in the way he ate you like it was vengeance—tongue swirling, lips sucking, fingers joining the assault now, two plunging into your soaking heat without warning, curling harshly against that spot that made stars explode behind your eyelids. 

slick squelched around his digits, coating his hand in a glossy sheen, dripping down to soak the sheets beneath you as he pumped faster, harder, his mouth never leaving your clit, alternating between flicks and sucks that had you thrashing, legs trembling uncontrollably, heels digging into his back. sweat poured from both of you, his shoulders glistening under the dim light, muscles flexing with every savage movement, his starvation evident in the low, animalistic groans vibrating from his chest into your core.

“please—too much,” you whimpered, but the words dissolved into another wail as he added a third finger, stretching you wide, the burn blending with bliss in a nasty, overwhelming rush. 

he ignored your pleas, too lost in his hunger, devouring you with no end in sight, spit bubbling at the corners of his mouth, your arousal smeared across his cheeks like war paint. the heat between you was suffocating, a inferno building to eruption, your body a quivering wreck under his assault, moans escalating to screams as the coil snapped—your orgasm crashing over you in a violent wave, gushing against his tongue, but he didn’t stop, lapping it all up with desperate fervor, prolonging the ecstasy until tears streamed down your face.

only then did he pull back, face flushed and slick-shiny, eyes wild with unsatisfied rage, jaw still clenched as he licked his lips clean, savoring the taste like a conqueror.

“not enough,” he rasped again, voice gravelly from the feast, a low growl that sent shivers racing down your spine. his hands, still slick with your arousal, fumbled with his pants, shedding them in a frenzy of impatient tugs.

his cock sprang free, achingly stiff, throbbing with a desperate need that mirrored the wild hunger in his eyes—veins pulsing, tip leaking a glossy bead of precum that glistened in the dim light. he didn’t pause, didn’t savor; he flipped you onto your stomach with a rough yank, hands seizing your hips and jerking them up, your ass presented to him like an offering. the air hit your exposed, dripping core, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body as he positioned himself behind you.

no warning, no tease, just two quick, deliberate taps of his cock against your swollen clit, each one sending a jolt of electric pleasure-pain through your overstimulated nerves, making your thighs quiver uncontrollably.

then, he pushed in, the intrusion brutal and unrelenting, his thick length forcing its way through your gummy walls. you felt every ridge, every pulsing vein dragging against your fluttering, oversensitive flesh, stretching you to the point of delicious agony. your body, already strung tight from the onslaught of his tongue, clenched around him like a vice, struggling to accommodate his size as he sank deeper, deeper, until the blunt head of his cock kissed your cervix with a pressure so intense it stole your breath.

you couldn’t move, couldn’t think—just shook, your body a trembling wreck, teetering on the edge of another orgasm from the sheer fullness of him buried inside you. the stretch burned, a heady mix of pleasure and pain that had you gasping, fingers clawing at the sheets, nails leaving crescent marks in the damp fabric.

your core fluttered wildly, walls spasming as they tried to adjust, but shotaro wasn’t in the mood for patience today. he didn’t give you a moment to catch your breath. with a guttural grunt, he pulled out nearly to the tip, the drag of his cock against your sensitive walls making you whimper, only to slam back in with a force that rattled the bedframe, the headboard crashing against the wall in a relentless, rhythmic thud-thud-thud.

the room filled with the obscene symphony of it all—wet, filthy slaps of skin on skin, sweat flying with every brutal thrust, your broken moans spilling unrestrained from your lips, loud and desperate, mingling with his low, animalistic grunts. 

his grip on your thighs tightened, fingers digging into your flesh with bruising intensity, leaving marks that would bloom purple by morning. he fucked you like a man possessed, hips pistoning with a fury that channeled every ounce of his pent-up energy into you, his shoulders rigid, jaw locked, sweat dripping from his brow to mingle with the slick mess coating your skin.

your body was a live wire, every nerve singing with overstimulation, the coil in your core tightening impossibly fast as he pounded into you, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. the bed shook under the assault, creaking in protest, the sheets soaked with a mix of sweat and your arousal, the musky scent of sex thickening the air, heavy and suffocating. your legs trembled, barely able to hold you up, but his iron grip kept you in place, forcing you to take every punishing inch.

your moans were broken, desperate, spilling unrestrained, mingling with the wet, filthy slaps of skin on skin, his low, animalistic grunts vibrating through the haze.

“mmm fuck-fucking me s-so good.”

then, just as you teetered on the brink, chasing that shattering high, shotaro slowed, his hips grinding to a torturous, deliberate roll that dragged his cock against your oversensitive walls, teasing the release you craved. your whine tore from your throat, raw and needy, as he came to a complete stop, leaving you trembling, aching, your core clenching pathetically around him.

his lips curled into a wicked grin, eyes glinting with cruel amusement as he watched you squirm, your nails clawing at his chest, leaving red trails across his sweat-slicked skin. you rolled your hips desperately beneath him, trying to chase the friction, to pull him back into that relentless rhythm, but he just laughed—a low, taunting chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine.

“so needy,” he mocked, voice dripping with sadistic delight, his hands pinning your hips still, denying you even the smallest movement. 

you opened your mouth to protest, a broken plea spilling out, but he cut you off, leaning forward, his face hovering inches from yours. without warning, he spat into your open mouth, the warm, wet shock of it making you flinch, your core clenching tighter around him as a perverse thrill shot through you. 

“need you on top, princess,” he growled, the words laced with command, his grin widening at the way your eyes widened, half desperation, half defiance.

you whined in protest, the sound pathetic even to your own ears, but he was already moving, sliding out of you with a slow, deliberate drag that left your walls fluttering, aching, missing the stretch of him as they clenched around nothing. the loss was agonizing, your body trembling with need, slick dripping down your thighs as you looked up at him, hoping to change his mind with pleading eyes.

but shotaro just shook his head, his expression unyielding, a glint of cruel satisfaction in his gaze as he settled back against the headboard, muscles flexing under sweat-sheened skin.

“c’mon,” he said, voice low and commanding, his hands grabbing your hips and dragging you forward, positioning you exactly where he wanted. “you’re gonna ride me.” his tone left no room for argument, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you up, forcing you to straddle him.

you’re straddling him, thighs trembling as you sink down onto his cock, the thick, rigid length splitting you open with a slow, deliberate grind that pulls a shattered moan from your lips. your core clenching tight as he filled you again, every inch a delicious torment, the room a haze of heat and desperation.

shotaro’s hips roll upward, each thrust a calculated torment, sinking so deep you feel him in your bones, your core clenching tight around him, already frayed from the hour of relentless teasing he’s inflicted. every nerve is a live wire, your body a quivering wreck, muscles aching from the strain of holding yourself together when you’re already so close to breaking.

the phone rings, a shrill, piercing sound that slices through the heavy stillness, shattering the rhythm of your gasps. it buzzes loudly against the nightstand, an insistent intrusion that clashes with the wet, filthy squelch of his cock driving into you. you flinch, but shotaro doesn’t pause, doesn’t even acknowledge it—just sinks deeper, a firm hand pressing into the small of your back, anchoring you in place as his other hand lazily traces your lower lip, smearing your breathless whimpers across your flushed, sweat-damp skin. your thighs shake, slick with arousal, your body teetering on the edge of collapse, every nerve screaming from overstimulation.

your eyes flick to the glowing screen and see chaewon calling and your stomach drops, a perverse mix of dread and excitement twisting in your gut. shotaro sees it first, his gaze sharpening, the soft glow illuminating the heart emoji next to her name. his lips curl into a faintly wicked smirk, eyes glinting with a dangerous calm that sends a shiver racing down your spine. 

he doesn’t slow, doesn’t stop, just keeps fucking into you with that same relentless rhythm, each thrust dragging against your oversensitive walls, making your head spin.

“answer it,” he says, voice low and smooth, a challenge laced with cruel amusement.

your throat tightens, pulse spiking as you shake your head, voice barely a whisper. “shotaro—”

his eyes darken, pupils blown wide, fierce and unyielding, the smirk vanishing into something merciless. “answer. the. fucking. phone,” he growls, each word punctuated by a sharp thrust that makes you choke on a moan, your walls fluttering wildly around him.

your hand trembles as you reach for the nightstand, fingers slick with sweat, fumbling to grasp the vibrating phone. you’re a mess, skin flushed and sticky, thighs quaking from the effort of staying upright as he keeps driving into you, no mercy, no pause, his cock throbbing inside your dripping core, stretching you to the point of delirium. 

you swipe to answer, voice cracking as you manage a weak, “h-hello?”

chaewon’s voice cuts through, bright and oblivious, a stark contrast to the filthy chaos unfolding. “hey! did you finish the notes for macro? i totally spaced during today’s lecture.”

you try to respond, but shotaro shifts beneath you, hips grinding upward in a slow, deliberate thrust that sends a jolt of pleasure-pain tearing through you. a moan slips out, loud and involuntary, and you slap a trembling hand over your mouth, cheeks burning with shame as you fight to keep it together. your eyes widen in panic, but shotaro just chuckles, low and taunting, his breath hot against your ear as he leans in close.

“don’t act like you can’t multitask,” he whispers, voice dripping with cruel amusement. “keep talking.”

you suck in a shaky breath, eyes squeezing shut as you force out a response, voice thin and strained. 

“y-yeah, i took them,” you choke, the words barely audible, your body trembling as his fingers slip between your thighs, finding your swollen clit and pressing slow, lazy circles that make your hips jerk forward, pleasure surging like a tidal wave.

his other hand slides up, fingers curling around your throat—not choking, but possessive, a firm reminder of who controls every shudder, every gasp. the dominance grounds you, amplifies the sinful heat pooling in your core, your walls clenching tighter around him as he keeps up the slow, torturous rhythm. slick drips down your thighs, soaking his lap, the wet sounds obscene, mingling with your desperate, muffled whimpers as you clutch the phone like a lifeline.

“you okay?” chaewon asks, concern creeping into her tone. “you sound kind of weird.”

you bite your lip hard, tasting copper, chest heaving with suppressed sobs as the pleasure builds to a breaking point. 

“fine,” you whisper, voice cracking, barely holding it together as shotaro’s fingers press harder, circling your clit with ruthless precision, his cock twitching inside you, his amusement palpable in the way he watches you unravel.

“you’re gonna cum with her on the phone, aren’t you, angel?” he murmurs against your ear, voice low and filthy, dripping with sadistic satisfaction. 

the words send a shiver through you, your core clenching so tight it draws a hissed curse from his lips, his hips stuttering for a moment before he grinds even deeper, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every thrust.

“i—i’ll send them later,” you stammer, voice barely audible, desperate to end the call before you lose it completely. your body’s a trembling wreck, thighs shaking uncontrollably as the coil in your stomach tightens to an unbearable peak, every nerve screaming for release.

“you’re the best,” chaewon says brightly, oblivious to the way you’re shattering, your body caught in the merciless rhythm of shotaro’s hips. “seriously, don’t know what i’d do without you.”

you can’t respond. shotaro tilts your chin down, forcing your glazed, tear-streaked eyes to meet his, his gaze burning with dark, unyielding command. 

“do it,” he mouths, slow and deliberate, eyes fierce and merciless. “cum for me.”

the last thread of your control snaps like a wire under too much tension. you gasp, a sharp, broken sound, thighs quaking violently as your orgasm crashes through you, gushing around his cock, your walls spasming uncontrollably, soaking his lap in a slick, filthy mess. 

tears spill down your cheeks, your voice breaking on a whispered, “g-gotta go,” as you fumble to disconnect the call, chaewon’s voice cut off mid-sentence.

the phone slips from your trembling fingers, landing with a dull thud on the floor, forgotten in the haze of your unraveling. shotaro’s smirk widens, slow and wicked, his eyes glinting with satisfaction as he watches you break, your body a quivering, hypersensitive mess above him. his fingers trace through the slick between your thighs, savoring the mess of your release, your humiliation, before he grips your hips with bruising force, lifting you just enough to reposition you.

you’re barely coherent, still shaking, skin flushed and slick with sweat, but he doesn’t care—doesn’t give you a moment to recover. with a ruthless snap of his hips, he drives into you again, harder, deeper, the wet squelch of your bodies colliding filling the room, the headboard slamming against the wall in a relentless, pounding rhythm. his hands dig into your flesh, nails leaving crescent marks, his pace savage, unyielding, as if he’s only just begun to claim you, as if the night is far from over.

shotaro laughs darkly, pulling out just long enough to flip you back  onto your back, then slamming back in from behind. 

“good girl,” he praises, voice rough with need.

“knew my cock drunk whore couldn’t keep her excitement to herself. filthy slut talking to her best friend while she’s stuffed.”

“t-taro..”

“shh, i’m just getting started.”

your body, still wrecked and trembling from the aftershocks of your earlier orgasm, clenched helplessly around him, desperate and overwhelmed, and it only seemed to spur him on. the way you gasped against his mouth, the way your nails dug into the slick heat of his skin, the way your whole body bowed into him without thought, without pride, without anything but the desperate need to keep him inside you.

the world outside of him blurred, softened, disintegrated, until there was nothing left but the slow, wet sound of your bodies moving together, the low rasp of his breath spilling across your flushed skin, the sharp sting of his teeth catching at the delicate curve of your jaw between gasps of your name.

his cock dragged against every trembling, sensitive part of you, setting you alight from the inside out, slow and merciless, and you felt yourself dissolving under him, your vision glazing at the edges, your limbs going boneless and weightless as the slow, brutal pleasure hollowed you out, leaving you empty and raw and aching for more, for him, for everything he was willing to give and everything he wasn’t.

the soft, breathless sounds slipping from both your lips blurred into a shared rhythm, a quiet, desperate symphony that drowned out the world, reduced it to the slick, relentless slide of him inside you, the heat of his hands shaping your hips, the heavy, broken murmurs of praise and possession breathed directly into your skin.

your mind, already fragile and battered, sank deeper under the weight of him, spiraling down into something warm and thick and golden, a place where the only thing that mattered was the slow grind of his cock, the way he filled you so perfectly you could feel him in your throat, the way his body caged you in so completely you couldn’t tell where your heartbeat ended and his began.

shotaro’s eyes, dark and hooded, locked onto yours as he pulled back just enough to watch you unravel. his hands, strong and unyielding, slid down your thighs, gripping them firmly before prying them apart wider, holding you open for him like a prize he intended to claim over and over. 

“look at you,” he murmured, voice rough with satisfaction, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh of your inner thighs to keep you spread, exposed, vulnerable. “so fucking perfect, taking it all. taking everything i give you like the good slut that you are.”

you whimpered, the overstimulation already creeping in as he thrust deeper, his pace picking up—not frantic, but deliberate, each roll of his hips designed to hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl and your breath hitch. your walls fluttered around him, still sensitive from the last climax, and the friction bordered on too much, a delicious burn that had tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

but you didn’t want him to stop; couldn’t bear the thought of it. your hands reached for him, clutching at his shoulders, but he shook his head, a wicked smile curving his lips.

“no,” he said softly, almost tenderly, as he pinned your legs even wider, his body weight pressing down to keep you immobilized. “you’re gonna stay like this. open for me. let me see how much you can take.”

his fingers found your clit then, swollen and throbbing from earlier abuse, and he circled it slowly at first, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. the dual sensation was immediate and overwhelming—pleasure spiking sharp and hot through your core, making your hips buck involuntarily against his hold. 

“s-sho please,” you gasped, not even sure what you were begging for, your voice breaking on the words as another wave built too quickly, too intensely.

he didn’t relent, his touch turning harsher, fingers rubbing your clit with firm, insistent pressure while his cock pounded into you, the wet slap of skin echoing in the room. 

“come on, give me another one,” he demanded, voice low and commanding, his free hand gripping your thigh harder, bruising the skin as he forced your legs to stay splayed. 

“i know you can. you’re so good for me, aren’t you? so needy.”

the words melted into you, wrapping around your fracturing mind like silk, pulling you deeper into that hazy, golden space where everything felt amplified—every thrust, every stroke, every breath he took. 

your body obeyed before your mind could catch up, the coil tightening unbearably fast, and then you were shattering again, crying out as your orgasm ripped through you, walls clenching around him in spasms that left you shaking, tears streaming down your cheeks.

but he didn’t stop. if anything, he pushed harder, his fingers never leaving your clit, rubbing through the sensitivity, forcing sparks of pleasure-pain that made you sob. 

“that’s it,” he groaned, his own breath ragged now, sweat beading on his forehead as he watched you with dark fascination.

“fuck, you look so beautiful like this. falling apart on my cock. one more, baby. i want to feel you break again.”

your mind was slipping, the edges fraying as overstimulation consumed you entirely. everything was too much—the relentless thrust of shotaro’s cock inside you, splitting you open with every punishing snap of his hips, the unyielding pressure of his fingers on your swollen clit, circling with cruel precision, and the way his iron grip held you open, denying you even a moment’s escape from the searing intensity. 

words dissolved into nothing; all you could manage were broken whimpers, your head lolling back against the pillow, vision blurring as the room spun in a haze of heat and sensation. sweat slicked your skin, dripping down your trembling thighs, mingling with the obscene slickness coating your core, the sheets beneath you soaked and ruined.

shotaro leaned down, his mouth crashing into yours, a messy, devouring kiss that swallowed your desperate cries. his tongue was relentless, claiming you as fiercely as his cock, driving into you faster, harder, each thrust sending shocks of pleasure-pain through your oversensitive body. his fingers pinched your clit, just enough to make you jolt, a ragged sob tearing from your throat as your hips bucked involuntarily, your body no longer your own, caught in the storm of his hunger.

“don’t fight it,” he whispered against your lips, voice a low, gravelly lifeline in the chaos, his breath hot and ragged. “let go for me. i’ve got you.”

but he wasn’t stopping—not now, not until he’d wrung every last drop from you, until you were a trembling, shattered mess beneath him. his eyes burned with a dangerous focus, no longer speaking to you but to your pussy, his cock plunging deeper, dragging against every sensitive spot with ruthless intent. 

he wanted more—wanted you to squirt, to soak the sheets, to flood everything around him in a messy, undeniable testament to his dominance. your legs trembled violently, instinctively trying to snap shut around him, your whole body burning, skin flushed and fever-hot, but it didn’t faze him. his hands pried your thighs apart with bruising force, nails digging into your sweat-slicked flesh, holding you wide open as he fucked you into oblivion.

“come on, baby,” he growled, voice thick with hunger, his hips slamming into you with a rhythm that shook the bedframe, the headboard crashing against the wall in a relentless thud-thud-thud. 

“give me another one. you know you can.”

you were choking on sobs, thrashing beneath his hold, your body a quivering wreck as you fought against the overwhelming tide of sensation. your core clenched tight around him, spasming wildly, slick gushing with every thrust, dripping down his cock to pool on the sheets below.

 the air was thick with the musky, heady scent of sex, the wet, obscene squelch of his cock driving into you filling the room, mingling with your broken wails and his low, animalistic grunts. you were too far gone, too overstimulated, every nerve screaming, your mind a haze of white-hot pleasure-pain.

“c-can’t,” you whimpered, voice cracking, barely audible over the chaos. “t-taro, i-i-i c-can’t take—”

“yes you can, baby,” he cut you off, voice firm and unyielding, his fingers pressing harder against your clit, rubbing fast, tight circles that made your vision blur. “yes you can.”

“you’re my good girl,” he murmured, leaning closer, his lips brushing your ear, his voice dripping with possessive pride. “yes you fucking can.”

he was relentless, a machine fueled by raw, insatiable need, his cock pounding into you with a force that rattled your bones, each thrust pushing you closer to a breaking point you didn’t think you could survive.

your legs shook uncontrollably, thighs trembling so hard they ached, your body trying to curl in on itself, but shotaro was stronger, his grip unyielding, pinning you in place as he chased what he wanted. his own release seemed a distant thought, his focus razor-sharp on breaking you, on making you give him what he craved.

the pressure built, unbearable, a tight, coiling heat in your core that felt different—wilder, more intense, like something was about to snap. your sobs turned to screams, raw and desperate, your nails clawing at his shoulders, leaving red welts in their wake as you thrashed beneath him. his fingers didn’t stop, rubbing your clit with a ruthless rhythm, his cock hitting that spot deep inside you over and over, driving you toward an edge you couldn’t comprehend.

“taro—please—” you gasped, voice breaking, tears streaming down your face as your body trembled, teetering on the brink. but he didn’t let up, his eyes dark and feral, his grin wicked and unrelenting as he pushed you further, determined to see you unravel completely.

“give it to me,” he growled, voice low and commanding, his thrusts growing erratic, harder, deeper, the wet squelch of your bodies colliding louder, filthier. “fucking soak me, baby.”

the coil snapped, and your world shattered. a violent, gushing release tore through you, your body convulsing as you squirted, a hot, messy flood that sprayed across his hips, soaking his cock, his thighs, the sheets beneath you in a glistening, obscene mess. 

the sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure that left you shaking, sobbing, your walls spasming uncontrollably around him as slick poured from you, pooling in a sticky, wet puddle that drenched everything. the air reeked of it—musky, raw, the scent of your release mixing with sweat and sex, thick and suffocating.

shotaro groaned, low and guttural, his eyes glinting with savage satisfaction as he watched you break, his fingers still circling your clit, prolonging the ecstasy until you were a quivering, hypersensitive wreck, tears streaming down your cheeks, your body trembling so violently you could barely hold yourself together. 

your mind was gone, lost in the haze of overstimulation, every touch, every thrust sending fresh shocks through your already shattered nerves. your legs tried to close again, weak and shaking, but he forced them open, his hands bruising as he pinned you down, his cock still driving into you, relentless, chasing his own high now that he’d gotten what he wanted.

“fuck, look at you,” he rasped, voice hoarse, his hips stuttering as he fucked you through the mess, the wet, filthy sounds louder now, amplified by the slick flood coating everything. 

“my good girl, giving me everything.”

your body was beyond spent, a trembling, shattered husk teetering on the edge of consciousness, fading in and out as the world blurred into a haze of overstimulation. 

your vision swam, edges dark and unfocused, your mind so blank it felt like you were no longer living, just a vessel for the relentless pleasure-pain shotaro had wrung from you. 

your core ached, still spasming from, every nerve raw, screaming, your body a quivering wreck that could barely hold itself together.

shotaro groaned, low and primal, his eyes dark with a carnal hunger that hadn’t dimmed, his cock still rock-hard inside you, throbbing with a desperate need to claim you fully. he’d held out for so long, teasing and tormenting, but now the raw, animalistic urge to spill inside you consumed him—to fill you up so completely that his cum would take permanent residence, leaking from your pussy in a filthy, undeniable mark of his possession. 

the thought alone made him growl, his hips stuttering as he pictured it, his restraint finally snapping.

with a flicker of mercy, he flipped you onto your back, your body too weak to resist, collapsing limply against the mattress. you buried your face in the pillows, drooling uncontrollably onto the soaked sheets, clutching at them for leverage as your trembling fingers sought something—anything—to ground you.

your body was no longer yours, every muscle slack, every movement involuntary, shotaro’s cock impaling you with a force that felt like it was splitting you apart. you reached a shaking hand back, weakly trying to push at his hips, a pathetic attempt to slow him, but he swatted it away with a low chuckle, delivering a harsh slap to your ass that stung sharp and hot, making you yelp into the pillows.

“move that fucking hand,” he growled, voice rough and unyielding, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he sped up, using you exactly the way you’d wanted—raw, relentless, like you were nothing but a vessel for his pleasure. 

his cocksleeve.

your cries were muffled, nose runny, eyes blurry and wet with tears that streamed down your flushed cheeks, staining the sheets beneath you. your thighs shook uncontrollably, barely able to keep you up, but his iron grip held you in place, forcing you to take every punishing thrust. the bed creaked, the headboard slamming against the wall in a frantic rhythm, the room filled with the obscene symphony of wet, filthy slaps and your broken sobs.

shotaro’s pace grew erratic, his hips snapping harder, faster, his cock dragging against your oversensitive walls, each thrust a delicious torment that pushed you past your limits. your body was a furnace, skin slick with sweat, slick still dripping from your earlier release, coating your thighs and his lap in a glistening mess. he groaned, low and guttural, the sound vibrating through his chest as he leaned forward, dragging you up by the neck until your back was flush against his front, his sweat-slicked skin burning against yours.

“fuck, gonna fill you up,” he rasped, voice hoarse with need, his lips brushing your ear before trailing hot, messy kisses down your neck, teeth grazing your skin. his cock twitched inside you, throbbing with the imminent release he’d been holding back for so long. 

with a few final, savage pumps, he buried himself deep, a primal groan tearing from his throat as he spilled inside you, thick white ropes of cum flooding your core. it was relentless, overwhelming, filling you so completely you swore you’d burst, the heat of it searing, pooling inside you as he kept thrusting, milking every last drop into your trembling, overfilled pussy.

you whimpered, body shaking, too full, too spent, as his cum leaked out around his cock, dripping down your thighs in sticky, obscene rivulets, mingling with the slick mess already soaking the sheets. 

his kisses turned softer, lips sucking gently at the sensitive skin of your neck, but his grip on you didn’t loosen, holding you tight against him as he rode out the aftershocks, his cock still pulsing inside you. your head lolled back against his shoulder, vision fading in and out, your body a quivering, hypersensitive wreck, drool and tears staining your face, your core still spasming around him, every movement sending fresh jolts through your shattered nerves.

“that’s it,” he murmured, voice low and possessive, his hands sliding up to cup your face, thumb brushing away a tear as he kissed the corner of your mouth, savoring your surrender. 

“all mine.”

the tension in his jaw was gone, the hard line replaced by a lazy, sated grin that curled his lips as he looked down at you, your flushed, tear-streaked face that was pressed into the soaked sheets, drool pooling beneath your cheek. 

his cock still rested inside you, softening now, cum and slick leaking from your overfilled core, dripping in sticky, obscene trails down your shaking thighs to join the ruined mess beneath you. the air was thick, heavy with the musky scent of sex, sweat, and raw desire, the room silent save for your ragged, uneven breaths and the faint creak of the bed settling.

his fingers traced lazy patterns along your side, savoring the way your body quivered under even the lightest touch, every nerve frayed and oversensitive, your mind a blank haze of exhaustion. he’d taken everything—poured every ounce of his frustration into you, leaving you shattered, spent, a perfect vessel for his release.