#top amab reader

in which you slow it down . . . and make it bouncy. 

the sweat makes it hard to grip onto your bare shoulders, your skin hot and sticky under his touch, but he needs the leverage if he’s going to survive this. he cries out, loud and needy, the iron clasp you have on his waist making it impossible to escape the storm of pleasure that forces its way in with every single thrust. 

“my beautiful, sweet boy. taking me so well.” you’re kissing every inch of his face, purple hickeys blooming all over his neck, carelessly pressing bruises into his battered body and marking him up like territory. “you were made for me, pretty doll. don’t you see? you were made so i could fit inside you.” 

and there you go again, purring honey into his ear, low-spoken words stained with heat and sin. he doesn’t know what you’re saying, he doesn’t care what. just knows you’re using him like he’s some sort of human-sized fleshlight, sturdy palms pushing and pulling at him like he’s a piece of dough, like this is a fucking pottery class you’re attending and not sex. he sobs loudly, tears dribbling down his cheeks in big fat globs and you’re not even giving him time to catch his breath before he’s being lifted again. 

one thing he’s learnt is that the emptiness never lasts long. he doesn’t even dare breathe. only whispers the numbers under his breath like you’ve told him to. one . . . two . . . and three. 

and just as promised, your cock slides into him like a bull charging into a ring, penetrating him like it belongs inside; finally nestled in his sloppy, ruined hole like you have the right to call him home. it almost hurts when the tender meat of his ass bounces hard on the front of your thighs, and you only laugh when he cries harder. 

he sniffles and whines out ‘you meanie!’ before burying his face into your chest, but it’s hardly a protest. after all, you’re the only one that can take care of his body like this, and you’re the only one who ever will.

to repay you for your kindness, he’ll gladly take on any punishment you give him. just like the good, sweet boy you tell him he is. 

kpdh x male! reader

prompt: abby’s supposed quick endeavor to escort souls for gwi-ma tests his resolve. character: abby saja warnings: sub bottom abby, dom top male reader, porn with some plot, public sex, quickie, slight dub-con, degradation, name-calling, blowjob (r! receiving), throatfuck, anal fingering, rimming, unprotected sex, slight choking, slight exhibitionist behavior, slight nipple play, slight mean reader, 18+ note: on EVERYONES SOUL we cracking the saja boys 😈 word count: 7k

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Seoul during the night was always burning in electricity and buzzing with activity—throbbing, bright neon lights illuminated the streets, late-night vendors clanked their pots to gather a crowd, and there were always the sirens warbling from distant intersections. The streets were alive, however just below the surface was awaiting chaos.

The Honmoon shimmered in waves of cobalt, and for once, Abby wasn’t the one feeling suffocated against it as his boots clicked over it. The Honmoon had exhausted his efforts to attempt to set foot back on Earth’s soil, but when Jinu approached him with the intriguing idea to create a boy band in efforts to demolish Huntrix, Abby couldn’t stop himself from taking the offer.

A glimmer between buildings transitioned a section of the once azure Honmoon into fuchsia, opening up a weak point; a window of opportunity. 

The area fizzled as demons materialized, joints snapping to adjust themselves through the small crevice. Abby strutted down the sidewalk with his usual confidence, a stolen hood pulled over his bubblegum pink hair with his hands in the jacket pockets. As more and more demons slithered through undetected, Abby guided them like a shepherd—ushering a surge of havoc into the city. With a small nod, he gestured for the demons to take course outwards.

“Don’t stray,” Abby mutters, waving off two demons towards trash bins and fire escapes. “Gwi-Ma’s hungry.”

Their shadows vanished like dust slipping into the air, right into the hungry mouths between buildings. He cracks his knuckles, satisfied—with his small effort, at least Gwi-ma will be satiated until their next performance.

Abby steps into the open, and right into the eyes of a crowd.

“Wait—oh, my God—is that Abby from Saja Boys?”

His head snaps up at the mention of his name. The pace of the gesture unfortunately knocks his hoodie down, revealing that obnoxious rosy pink mop of hair. Someone points at him while another starts screaming, alerting everyone within the vicinity to look at him. Then, dozens of feet slap against the concrete as the sidewalk erupts into chaos, flashing phones raised to catch a glimpse of fame. Abby turns on his heel and breaks into a bolt, dodging pedestrians and corners like instinct.

He takes a hard left—flash! Then another—a scream. Tries to duck into a stairwell—blocked. A fan was already there, breathless with eyes shining bright. “Abby!”

“Damn it,” he hisses, turning to sprint in the opposite direction. His heart pounded, but not from the exertion his body was going through, or from the fear of being caught, but rather, from sheer frustration—this was supposed to be an errand to escort a few demons into the city, and dip before Huntrix noticed; simple as that.

Now there was a pack of wolves labeled as fans on his trail, hounding him for autographs and pictures. He couldn’t even teleport away because a new passerby was always coincidentally in his way. As he turns his head over his shoulder to scan how many were still tailing him, Abby slams into something solid, knocking the breath from his lungs. He’s able to stabilize his footing before he falls, looking up in surprise at you.

You have a bewildered expression plastered onto your face, but Abby already is turning his head, panic flickering through his eyes as he takes a glance over his shoulder—the crowd was closing in on him.

“Did he come this way?”

“I swear I saw him turn right—”

Almost immediately understanding the situation at hand, you don’t hesitate, grabbing Abby’s wrist and yanking him sideways into the mouth of the nearby alleyway, shoving him against the brick wall. Hoisting one arm up, you shield his cotton candy hair from view—to any onlooker, it seemed as if a couple were sharing a private moment in the comfort of a dirty backroad. As expected, the crowd peeks in, flinching at the sight.

“Not here—keep moving!”

Shoes smack against pavement again, retreating, with their voices echoing off the walls; the area begins to quiet in degrees, as the alley swallows them whole. It was narrow and humid from sweat and shadows, and there was still that pulsing light of neon from a noodle shop bordering the brick-lined corridor.

Abby shoves you off by your chest, sweeping off dirt and debris from the sleeves of his jacket, like the whole act of being protected was more humiliating than being devoured by a horde of fangirls.

“No—I don’t know… a ‘thank you’?” You ask, tone dry, adjusting your sweater.

Abby scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Didn’t need your help.”

“Didn’t look like that a second ago.”

He turned to face you properly, chin tilted upwards like air tasted better when he was smug. “You want something as a token of my gratitude? An autograph?”

“What?” You blink. “No—I’m good.”

As if you sprouted multiple heads, he squints at you, stepping closer. “Do you—do you even know who I am?”

“... Am I supposed to?”

Lips parted in shock, a flash of fang catching the neon green glaring into the alley. “What—you don’t know,” he sings the next part, “My little soda pop?”

Recognition twinkles in your widened eyes, before it’s followed by a nonchalant shrug. “Oh—my sister keeps singing that,” you look away, bored. “From the… Salsa—Saja Boys, or something, right?”

“Yeah,” Abby crosses his arms over his chest, deadpanning. “I am the Saja Boys—I’m Abby.”

“Cool—can I get an autograph for her?”

His head twitches as something in Abby cracks—a desire to be seen by you despite the evergrowing fanbase; a petty feeling. He steps forward again, until your chests nearly brush, and his voice dips into a smooth, caramel-like timbre. “Your sister’s a fan, but what about you?”

You flash him a teasing smile. “I’m more into Huntrix.”

He clicks his tongue, nodding as if his ego wasn’t just bruised. He unzips his jacket before reaching for the hem of his shirt and lifting it, displaying his canvas of muscles carved into his stomach. His abs flexed beneath the alley’s fractured light, each ripple catching a shadow and refining the already grand display. “Still not a fan?”

“Y’know what,” you mutter, tone unimpressed as your eyes flick down Abby’s exposed torso, completely weirded out. “I just remembered I don’t carry a pen or paper on me, so I’ll pass on that autograph.”

You turn to leave, shoulders relaxed, almost as if you’d forgotten the entire existence of the boy band star standing half-naked in front of you.

But with Abby’s pride dictating his every move, he doesn’t let you get far, his hand shooting out—faster than human reflex—and grabs your shoulder, fingers digging in like iron bolts. Before you can even utter a complaint, your back slams against the alley wall with a harsh thud like thunder, briefly draining the breath from your lungs. His forearm presses against your collarbone, pinning you tightly. The previous playful-idol facade was washed away, peeling back to reveal something primal—eyes glowing gold and fangs sharpening.

“Think you’re funny?” Abby growled, low and guttural, his breath fanning hotly against your jaw. 

You glare at him, grunting in contrast to the pressure against your chest. “A little.”

Then Abby’s mouth parts, unnaturally wide, with heat rolling off his tongue that no longer bears that amorous impression, but rather, hunger. A low, humming force had thickened the atmosphere around you, making it difficult to breathe. A faint shimmer of turquoise dances across your chest, drawing something from the center. The thread of your soul begins to loosen, curling towards Abby’s parted lips like smoke caught in a vacuum.

It was instinct that rushed to the surface; your hand shooting up and throwing Abby off yourself, slamming him into the opposite wall, hard enough for the demon to grunt in surprise. Dust crumbled down from the bricks above, and the hiss Abby let out originated from his wounded pride rather than his pain. Your hand grips his jaw tightly, fingers pressing into the hinges beneath his cheekbones until Abby’s mouth closes on reflex.

“What the fuck was that?” You hiss, eyes narrowing, chest heaving from the adrenaline rush. Abby just stares up at you, breathing hard through flared nostrils like a pathetic prey trapped in a corner.

And yet, the look in his eyes betrayed his primitive instincts. He was enjoying this.

Abby was stronger than you in ways that you could never guess how. He could snap you in half if he so pleased, but here you were, a mere human—not even a hunter—pressing him like he was nothing more than a pinned insect beneath your fingers.

The pressure of your grip dug into bone in correspondence to not receiving any response, and his pulse drummed loudly in his ears. A part of him, long buried under inclination and arrogance, had willingly made him compliant under you.

Your breath ghosted his lips, laced with fury, but all Abby could focus on was the heat pouring off of you. Reasonably so, he had almost taken your soul—and in response to his attempt, your body was radiating such wrath that Abby could just taste the sin on his tongue.

He felt as though you were the forbidden fruit withholding him from the knowledge of much more, that being pleasure. Your eyes burned into his like a wildfire licking at the edges of something dry and on the verge of igniting, and he knew if he didn’t look away, he’d be consumed whole.

His pupils dilated.

The silence accumulating had made your clasp loosen faintly, thumb brushing beneath his jaw—just shy of a caress, but enough to keep him in check. Abby took notice of the slight tremble in your fingers.

“Careful,” he breathed, voice sensual and silk-like. “Keep touching me like that, and I might think you like me.”

He meant it as a taunt, but his delivery was spoken in hopes you would. A drip of sweat rolled down the side of his forehead—the alley was becoming congealed with tension, electricity thundering between the small space between the two of you.

Maybe it was the proximity, but he was becoming more and more enamoured with you with every second. Abby was trying to devour your soul not even a minute ago, but now he was lining the wrinkles set from your eyebrows being drawn together in irritation with his own eyes. 

Eyeing the way your lips parted slightly with each shallow breath you took with his own eyes. The very lips that appeared to be carved from some holy scripture his eyes would never have the privilege of reading. But he could taste it—tongue darting out, wetting his own lips unconsciously. 

He could take it—take your lips, steal your breath, and smother that fire under his own—the same way he’s owned every soul he’s claimed before.

Perhaps, that could be the answer that would crack you open enough for him to slither through.

A kiss—it wouldn’t kill you, but it could make you slip.

And a slip was all he needed to make you fall.

Like a predator savoring the moment before the pounce, Abby leaned in as if drawn forward by something magnetic. That something was coiling between you both, begging to erupt.

You didn’t register the movement until his nose brushed yours. Against your restraint, he pressed his lips against yours, closing his eyes like it was consented.

Your hand jerked, releasing his jaw to shove at his chest, pushing him back into the wall as you took a step backwards. “What the fuck are you doing?” You growl, voice cracked and barely steady. 

Abby pushes himself off the wall, lips quirked into a grin full of venom and eyes at half-mast. “Getting what I want.”

And then he kisses you once more.

It was more of a collision of heat; a dance of fire and desire. His lips slant over yours like they simply had the right to, like your mouth had been waiting for his this whole time and just didn’t know it until now. His fangs graze your bottom lip, distracting you as he splays a hand onto your chest, walking you into the opposing wall.

You did attempt to pull away—with another shove, but as if he centered all his strength into the palm on your chest, you couldn’t budge. Your fingers retaliated by curling into the fabric of his jacket, pulling it away from your body. But it only fueled his hunger for your soul, deepening the kiss with a tilt of his head and his tongue welcoming himself into the warmth of your mouth.

You shouldn’t reciprocate; alarms rang in your mind to get as far away as possible from this deluded freak.

But, there was something dizzying about him. Like sinking into the ocean with lungs full of fire—every breath a contradiction; every second closer to drowning.

He was kissing you like you were a secret sin he had no intention of repenting for.

Even as addicting as his lips were, you had some sense.

Your fingers tangled into his pink hair and yanked him back, hard enough to rip a low grunt from the back of his throat, his eyes closed and teeth clenched in pain. Your own lungs burned, mouth parted in disbelief and adrenaline—nails still scraped against his scalp like you couldn’t decide between shoving him away or dragging him back in.

“Get off,” you panted.

His grin unfurled as he laughed. There was blood on his bottom lip—yours, maybe. His tongue licked it away.

“You don’t sound very convincing,” Abby’s fingers curl around your wrist, prying each of your fingers muddled in his hair loose. He guides your hand by inches, grazing it down the side of his throat, calloused fingers dragging against his Adam's apple, feeling the cartilage bounce. He leads them across the hard plane of his chest, sensing his heart’s heightened beat. Eventually, he lets your fingers get caught in the gravitational pull he’s created, your fingers generating their own path to his abdomen, caressing each dip of muscle through fabric. 

Abby sucks in a breath, exhaling shakily. He leans in again, but his mouth is not aimed for yours this time. His lips brush your jaw in a phantom apology. A shiver skates down your spine, but you tell yourself it’s the thrill of it all; an excuse. Anything to name it other than what it truly is: lust.

“We’ll make it quick,” he mutters against your skin, each word branding you with heat. His tongue darts out to clean up the nervous sweat off your neck, and your knees threaten mutiny. His palm flows down your torso over your sweater.

“Hold on—,” your protest scrapes out roughly. “What are you..?”

The rest of your question fizzles out as his palm slides lower, flattening over the waistband of your sweatpants. Your pulse stutters as his knuckles begin to curl inside of your sweats, pulling slightly brazenly. You reach for his wrist once his fingertips breach your boxers. 

“Are you fucking crazy?” You hiss, a last resort to maintain your sanity. “What if your fans come back?”

You can feel his grin curve against your jaw, full of sinful delight. “Then they’ll get a free show,” he reasons, voice low enough to vibrate through your ribs. His other hand reaches forward to continue the work of the previous. 

Your heart beats itself frantically—every cell of your body is screaming at you to shove him away, but with the way his mouth trails down your throat has you second-guessing.

The sound of your shallow breath is played right into Abby’s ears. He watches every flinch and reaction that your body is producing, like a fox feasting its eyes on a rabbit that hasn’t figured out its demise lies nearby. 

He backs away slightly, fingers playing with the strings of your sweatpants and lifting the hem of your sweater to reveal a peak of skin. While maintaining eye-contact, he drops to his knees. Your body leans against the brick wall as his palms slide up the backs of your thighs, a drag made to ensure your muscles twitched under his touch. His thumbs tease the fabric hugging your hips, pulling it to reveal your Adonis belt.

“This isn’t—I—fuck,” you try to start, one hand going to his shoulder. Not in efforts to push him away, but more so something to hold onto.

Abby chuckles, dipping his head forward and pressing a featherlight kiss just above your waistband, and on the line that dips into your boxers. “You can tell me to stop,” he said, lips brushing your skin. “But I think we both know you won’t.”

You hated how right he was—you wanted him. Despite the limited knowledge you knew of him, he had you wrapped around his pretty little finger. You were, knowingly and head held high, walking into the fire.

With a tug, he pulls down the front of your sweatpants along with the waistband of your boxers behind it. Inch by inch, his gaze never leaves your face—drinking in every hint of you unraveling; your jaw tensing and rows of teeth knocking together.

When your cock springs free, already flushed red and hard, Abby lets out a soft, hungry exhale, hot breath flowing onto your tip.

“Oh,” he murmurs, head tilted as if he were appraising something sacred. “Look at you.”

His hand wraps around the head, thumb smearing precum down your shaft with such ease that had your spine locking against the wall behind you.

“Abby,” You warn, panic spiking for a brief, pathetic second. “You’re—seriously, what if—?”

“We’re still on this?” He mocks you with a raise of his eyebrow, shoulders sagging to express his frustration. “I said I would be quick.”

His thumb drags down along a vein before resting at the base of your cock. He leans forward to one side, tongue lolling out to trail that same vein along with the heat of his breath. His tongue twitches from underneath the head, precum dribbling out onto his tastebuds. 

You shut your eyes tightly, doubling over to grab his hair again, but this time, not pushing him away. Your other hand clasps over your mouth to restrain any sounds of pleasure that threaten to escape.

Abby’s breath fanned across your tip, and it was the last shred of warning he gave before he wrapped his lips around you, tongue flattened to accommodate your girth.

He gagged almost immediately.

A sharp choke echoed off the alley walls, muffled by the stretch of his mouth and the shape of your cock pressed against his tongue. He pulled back just enough to breathe, saliva trailing in a glistening strand to your slit. He risks a glance upwards to see your reaction—your eyebrows are still furrowed together and sweat laces your hairline. Fuck.

He lets out a frustrated growl before making another attempt to take you. Eyes filled with determination, he locks onto yours, daring himself to handle it. His throat spasms around you in protest, lips trembling with the effort, but he kept going.

His tongue dances with a desperate rhythm, sliding along the underside of your dick like it was licking honey from the edge of a blade. He pulls back only to swirl the flat of his tongue along your shaft, as if he could ace this test through applying himself hard enough with no prior studying.

A groan escapes from the prison bars of your fingers, while the other tugs Abby’s hair when he licks the slit of your cock, to ground yourself to remain in the moment.

And still, Abby didn’t blink—he watched you the entire time through tears that decorated his lashes, and flushed cheeks. Every time he bobbed his head down, he’d pull off with a sharp suck on the tip and then trail his tongue down the side, wanting to taste the shape rather than swallow you whole.

In a teasing manner, the ghost of his fangs graze lightly along the curve of your dick, just enough to make your hips jerk into his awaiting mouth.

Abby grinned around you. The fucker… smiled… with you still encased in his mouth. 

The scrape of his teeth was dangerous, as if he enjoyed the waltz on a ledge during high winds. Then his mouth sank back down, hollowed cheeks demonstrating his strained effort. He was trying—failing, sure, but trying like hell.

Your head tilted back against the brick, vision spotty with heat. “Fuck, Abby…”

He made a noise in response, mixed with pride and understanding, and your cock twitched at the entrance of his throat. Another gag has him slipping you out with a wet pop, panting heavily as he strokes you lazily with one hand.

A string of spit connects you once more, snapping once Abby sits back on his heels, tongue flicking out to lick up the corners of his mouth. He looks up at you, lips swollen red, and eyes glowing gold with mischief. 

“Close?” Abby leans inwards, tapping the head of your cock against his tongue and tugging his wrist around the tip to pressure an earlier ejaculation. You wince, closing your eyes as you double over, both hands now gripping his pink locks to calm the sensation of that tight coil sizzling in your abdomen.

“You’re fucking crazy.”

“Yeah,” he places a kiss on your oozing tip, tongue peeking out to lap a stripe up your slit like a lollipop. “A little.”

You open your eyes to glare at his verbatim of your words. His eyes hold not even a flake of repentance. His pupils dilate in recognition of your displeasure of him, like ink stains blooming on wet paper. He’s too proud for someone who shamelessly has their lips wrapped around your cock in a dirty alleyway.

Abby’s pride in his actions was sickening—a celebrity who thinks they can exploit others with just a flash of their smile. You knew his handsome exterior was shielding something more sinister underneath, and your awareness of this truth was starting to piss you off. 

You were not going to fall for what little remained of his charm and become a mere toy.

You straighten your posture, one hand glides down to hold the base of your dick, feeding it to him slowly until it paints his lower lip with your precum. He blinks obliviously at your shift, but opens his mouth wider to welcome you, the corner of his lips curling to express his satisfaction of what seemed to be your walls crumbling. 

His naivety made your heart soar, smiling back down at him with a deceitful smile—your other hand that still remained on his scalp shoves his head forward to swallow your cock until his nose met the shaven hairs at the base of your navel.

A choked sound escapes his throat as you bury yourself, sighing deeply at the hot sensation surrounding your length. His hands spring up to wrap to the back of your thighs, nails scratching against the fabric of your sweatpants. 

The hand that fed his mouth trails down to cup his neck, feeling the obscene bulge that shaped around your cock, your index finger scraping the widened form of his Adam’s apple. His eyes are blown wide, a glossy film of unshed tears covers his irises while his eyebrows draw together to showcase his shock.

But you don’t care.

You reel your hips back until the tip of your cock is just barely entering his throat, grazing against his uvula. Gagging, Abby looks up to you—a prayer spoken from his eyes. He finally has that look of guilt you wanted from him. You respond to his silent plea by ramming your hips forward, his bottom lip kissing your balls. 

You chuckled when you felt his throat constrict against you, each thrust having its own brand of retribution on his body. The fingers that pressed against his neck felt the imprint your dick caused inside of him. 

“Fucking—” your hips slam forward, balls hitting his chin, “—take it.”

Abby’s eyes roll in pleasure at the sound of strain in your voice, before he closes them to fully immerse himself in the feeling of being used, tears freely falling. Drool begins to get punched out of his mouth, dribbling out of the corners of his lips, staining his shirt and jeans.

Every gag and wet gurgle is swallowed around the thick heat of your cock pounding his throat.

His right hand shakily slid down from your thigh to between his spread legs, rubbing at the front of his jeans. He moaned wantonly, the sounds aiding in creating a sense of vibrations up your length. You slow your hips by a smidge to peer at what’s causing his whines. “Fuck—are you seriously touching yourself?” He opens his eyes to look at your demeaning gaze. “Fucking pervert.”

His eyes roll again at the name-calling, body pathetically convulsing as his hand stills against his covered dick, cumming in his pants. His cock seeps cum through his boxers and into his jeans, a dark, wet spot smearing into the denim. Abby groans around you, feeling his form attempt to back away.

But you couldn’t let go—not when you were so close.

Selfishly, both hands grasp the back of his head, pushing and pulling him into your cock as your hips piston in and out of his throat, milking you with every desperate choke. Your thighs tense upon feeling that familiar sensation stir in your lower abdomen, hips losing rhythm and blindly chasing release. 

Through clenched teeth, you hiss, “Hhaah, A–Abby, I’m—fuck!” With a final thrust, you hold his face flush against your pelvis, suffocating Abby against your hips, lips stretched wide as your cock pulsed and spilled down his throat. Your cum flooded past his mouth in waves of thick, hot ropes. Abby twitched beneath you, whimpering brokenly as he swallowed around your length—all senses completely taken over by you.

You thrust shallowly and don’t let go of him until the last spurt swims down his throat.

Finally, you release your hold on his hair, allowing for Abby to fall back, cock sliding out of his throat with a wet gasp. He awkwardly scoots backwards, one hand supporting his efforts to create distance between you as his other covers his harsh coughing fit. His eyes are bloodshot red with a trail of tears sliding down his cheeks, while his lips are swollen and covered in saliva and cum, multiple strings of the aforementioned substances bridging his chin to your softening cock.

Your back falls against the brick wall behind you, panting as you look down at him. You eye the dark patch that soils his blue jeans, to his heaving chest, to his slick-covered lower mouth, to those half-lidded eyes that shift into a yellow, mischievous glint.

“Are you going to tell me,” Abby huffs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “that you’re still not a fan?”

You breathlessly laugh, taking a glance at the end of the alleyway. “You’ve got a mouth on you, don’t you?” You take a step forward, leaning down to lock your fingers in his strands, pulling his weight up from the ground, your other hand wrapping around his throat. Responsively, his hands grip your wrist, wincing, before he’s silenced by your lips, tasting what remained of your release on his tongue. Your fingers that retained his breath gave a single, tight squeeze before they plunged to the front of his jeans, hurriedly unbuttoning and unzipping the damp cloth.

Abby is about to retort another snarky comment once your mouth leaves his, huffing heavily in your face, when you turn him around, pressing him against the bricked wall. He turns his head to face you over his shoulder, but you drop to your knees behind him as an answer to his unasked question. Your fingers break the plane of his waistband to his jeans and boxers, tugging them down in conjunction. 

“Hold on— I’m the one taking it?” Abby asks, attempting to turn his body. You don’t entertain his efforts, both of your thumbs prodding at the crack of his ass, spreading it open to showcase his asshole. You accumulate saliva in your mouth, spitting it onto his hole, before licking it back up. Abby shivers at the feeling, arms raising to rest on the wall in front of him, settling his head down on his forearms. “Could you… do that in a less emasculating way, at least?”

You’re unresponsive, closing your eyes and diving forward to bury yourself. Your right hand moulds itself into Abby’s asscheek, pulling it to create space for your tongue. Your slick muscle breaches his tight ring, entering an area that Abby has not had the pleasure of exploring ever before. 

Clearly, Abby’s inexperience is shown as he subconsciously clenches down on your tongue; his patterns begin to gain pigment; and his nails stretch into claws, stabbing themselves into the wall. You take pleasure in seeing him break before you, your left hand descending to your exposed cock, stroking it slowly as you roll your tongue. Abby’s entire body begins to shake, feeling his strength drain out of his legs, breathlessly repeating curses as if they were prayers to a God. “Fuck… F—Fuck you— Fuck…”

You withdraw your head just a bit, your right hand releasing the grip you had on his cheek, pairing your ring and middle finger together to enter your own mouth, wetting them. To tease, you tantalizingly lick a stripe up his hole, watching his whole body tremble, before sliding in your middle finger. You slowly oscillate the digit, watching as Abby’s back arches into your hand, then slipping in your ring finger, completing a scissoring motion inside his hole. 

Abby lays his right palm flat in front of him, resting his forehead on the back of it, as his left hand inclines towards the back of your head, pushing you closer to his ass, silently asking for a favor. You can’t help but let out a chuckle, acknowledging his plea by adding your tongue to the equation—now both your fingers and tongue penetrated his asshole. You sought your own satisfaction by toying with the head of your cock, your thumb and index finger forming a grip around the tip as your hips jutted into the shape.

You shamelessly groan between his ass, switching between thrusting your tongue and sucking his hole as you plunge your fingers simultaneously. Abby’s fingers pull at your hair, his teeth extending into fangs to puncture into his own wrist to cease any sounds that could spill out. What Abby seemingly did not calculate in his already flawed plan to get you to succumb, was that trying to smother your flame with his own would only lead to the same effects as adding water to a boiling pot of oil.

Just when the peak of pleasure was beginning to unveil itself to both you and Abby, you reluctantly pulled away. Abby’s eyes widened in anger, his legs shaking in relevance to how close he was to release. You’re not too far off from being in his situation; covering the tip of your dick with your palm, and closing your eyes to focus on not cumming on the back of his feet. You whimper at the sensation fading away from the pit of your stomach, risking a glance up at Abby, whose back exhibits his frustration—the expanse gaining area with each heavy breath, a sweat spot forming on his jacket, and in between all the nooks of his muscled back. You slide your hand up to push his jacket and shirt up to expose a sliver of skin, kissing his Venus’ dimples as a mock apology before standing upright.

Your hands find home on each side of his hips, pulling him into your pelvis, your cock laying on top of the curve of his ass. You lean forward to rest your chest on his back, tilting your head to bite Abby’s earlobe, tugging it down slightly between your teeth and then placing a gentle kiss on the helix. The tip of his ears are tainted with a light shade of pink, but he turns his head so you meet his similarly-colored hair. You chuckle at his shyness—despite the situation in its entirety, Abby gets bashful at domestic kisses.

You adapt to your new canvas, dipping your head a tad lower to decorate the side of his neck with your lips. “You don’t mind if I,” you bite his nape, enticing a wince, “continue, right?”

Your left hand glides up his body from his hip to his idle hand on the wall, interlacing your fingers with his. You drag your interlocked hands to your lips, spinning his arm slightly to lay a kiss on his wrist. Abby scoffs as he turns to face you properly, “Geez, aren’t you a romantic—you do this with every person you fuck in an alley?”

You chortle lightly, letting go of his hand to steady his waist, your other hand guiding your cock to his asshole. “Can’t say I’ve ever done this before—alleyway or otherwise.”

Abby perks up at your response, “What, don’t tell me you’re a—”

The head of your cock enters Abby’s rim, stretching it open. Abby ducks his head down, body completely tensed as he tries to accommodate your girth. His fingertips scrape at the surface of concrete in front of him in efforts to ease himself, but the lack of support builds on his poor, trembling frame. “W–Warn a guy, will you?”

“Mmnh, sorry,” you pant, tightening your grip on his hips. You situate your forehead onto his shoulder, closing your eyes. “I can’t move.”

His claws scraped down the wall, streaks of white dust followed in their pace, drops of sweat cascaded down his face to his neck before seeping into the collar of his shirt. Abby pressed his eyes shut, inhaling through his nose before exhaling out of his mouth, slowly relaxing his body. You pressed further—not more than an inch—sensing his relaxation, but not before he seized up again, halting your hips. “I think the Sun might come up before I get to fuck you properly.”

Abby barks a short laugh. “Mmhh… you try taking a cock your size, haahh…”

In the time he takes to respond to your taunt, you thrust your hips forward. His head shoots upwards, glaring at the stars that paint the night sky. His mouth lays agape at the intrusion, debating on whether to scream or sob. Your cock pulses inside of him, balls flush against his ass. You raise your head off his shoulder, kissing his cheek in hushed praise. Abby’s lips quiver into a pout, turning his head to look into your eyes; tears line his eyes, edging on falling. Your eyes widen seeing such an expression adorn his features, connecting your lips with his.

You pull your hips back, but Abby’s rim clings onto your cock tightly. Wincing, you only pull halfway to push back in, his tears falling as he whines into your mouth. Your tongue presses against his, swallowing each precious sound that escapes his mouth. “Mmnnhh…”

You separate from him to kiss his ear. “I’m gonna start moving, alright?”

With a soft push off his body, you stand straight, staring right at where your bodies are connected, reeling your hips back to reveal your cock scraping against his hole. The tip barely graces his entrance before being welcomed by that intoxicating heat. Abby’s patterns resurface, and with a light touch, you trace the shape; starting from his clawed finger until you reach his collarbone. You stare in awe at the plum markings that materialize onto his skin, fingers wrapping around his neck, pulling him towards you. The action causes his hips to melt into yours, burying your cock. A strained sound vibrates his vocal cords, meeting your gaze with his shimmering, golden irises. His eyebrows are arched in frustration, veins popping against his jawline but you all but smile at him—your cheeks push your eyes into creases with how big your smile is despite the harsh grasp on his throat. 

Satisfied, your hips snapped forward, a brutal rhythm creating itself with each passing second. Each thrust drove a scratchy groan from Abby, his body lurching with your movement. He begged with his eyes, his scleras turning red from the lack of oxygen reaching his lungs, but no matter—you continued slamming against his ass, the sound echoing into the cracks of the alley. “Hhnngh, please— slow down, you—!”

Your other hand snaked around to his front, where his useless cock swung with each rut of your hip against his. You wrapped your fingers around the base of his dick, tugging until you reached the head. Abby jolted; his once forgotten cock was finally getting attention. “F–Fuck! Hhnnh, not there— it’s too much, gahh!”

The same hand that restricted his breath covered his mouth, silencing his pleads. Abby bit down on your fingers, groaning into them as your blood trickled into his mouth, but it was not going to be the reason you stopped. 

Your hips rutted into Abby’s ass, each thrust infused with desperation to release. Your hand stroked his dick in a faster tempo than your pelvis, panting directly into his ear. “Abby, I don’t think your hole wants to let go of me, hm? W–What do you think?”

He groans against your fingers, eyes rolling from how dead-set your cock hits his prostate. Are you sure this is your first time? He doesn’t believe so—with how your measured and seemingly practiced hands roam his body, you seem more like a liar than anything. 

That familiar, impending sizzle in his lower stomach surges, brought about by the stimulation upon his prostate by your cock and your hand stroking his. Abby’s right hand sheathes his claws, reaching backwards to press against your stomach, trying to at least slow the movement of your hips. Seeing his struggle, you loosen the grip you have on his mouth, settling that hand across his chest, groping his pec. “What’s wrong, huh? Nngh, c-close?”

His left hand envelopes the one across his chest once you start pinching the bud, twisting it between your thumb and index through his shirt. “What do you—hhaah—fucking think, d–dickhead?”

With his hands no longer bracing the wall, all he can do is recline into you, holding desperately as you rock into him. Your thrusts punch out pathetic whines, even when his lips are locked to each other. 

Abby seals his eyes shut, knees bucking under the pressure, but your one arm holds him up, pressing his back against your chest, making the arm that once was trying to slow you down to just grasp your hip in hopelessness. 

The coil in his stomach abruptly snaps, cum racing out the length of his dick and shooting out onto the wall. Your hand helps to deliver him to his peak, teasing just the head as he juts into your grasp. He opens his mouth to exhibit his pleasure, but your lips find his, swallowing each moan. He draws his claws, the sharpness digging into your hip, scratching out blood. 

Your hips move recklessly, chasing your own release, whimpering into his mouth. It’s sloppy work down there as your hips begin to stutter, losing its flow, to which you just slam forward, burying yourself as deep as his body would allow. You feel each nerve in your body charge your center, a shiver trails down your spine and slithers through your cock to pump violent, hot cum deep inside of Abby. He gasps into your mouth, shattering into a strangled moan. His claws puncture through your skin as he feels each rivulet of cum leak from the edges of his stretched rim, catching against the edges of his denim. You stay there, slowly grinding through the aftershocks until the wet squelches between you two drown out the sound of his whines.

As you pull away from his lips, Abby chases your mouth, and a thin thread of saliva is highlighted through your huffs in the cold, night air. He draws back his claws so you can properly step back from him, your softening cock sliding out of him, and immediately, thick ropes of your cum dribble down his thighs. He hisses slightly as the air chills instantly between you, but you’re too busy watching the mess drip from him with your chest heaving, until your gaze drags up to his face. 

Abby gives you a playful smirk—there it was. Finally, what he had been searching for all this time; the way your shoulders slackened, the lust-filled haze clouding your eyes, and the sweat dripping down your neck—you were exhausted.

A crack in porcelain.

You’re completely vulnerable to a beast in the wild; no defense surrounds you. 

A knowing curve stretches his lips. A quick dig under your ribs and… your soul will be his.

Abby’s mouth parts to speak, but a rustle rings down the walls of the alley from the entrance of it. A look of irritation flashes across his lips, bending to pull up his boxers and jeans, hurriedly bucking his belt. You follow suit, making yourself look presentable before lunging to grab at his wrist once you notice he’s looking for a way out.

“When can I see you again?”

Abby snorts in your face, tugging his wrist away from your grip. “Already want seconds?”

Gold dances in his irises and mauve patterns stain his skin, but you’re not discouraged, staring directly at him, past the physical features. He flinches at your gaze, but the rustling sounds make themselves present, causing him to step forward into your personal space. The shadows bend around him, engulfing his form into black and purple puffs, and a chilling, raspy voice promises in your ear;

“I can be your sanctuary.”

ᓚᘏᗢ

As you stand alone within the grimy alleyway, the rustle that scared off Abby physically reveals itself.

“Mreow.”

"..."

ˋˏ✄┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈

Roommate! Matt who habitually walks around in your shared apartment adorned with just your hoodie and his boxers. It’s meant to tease you—to tempt you into touching him. Sometimes, he’d go out of his way to wear one of your shirts and nothing else. His strong, plump thighs would tense up whenever you’re close to him, and he’ll grin the moment he feels your stare. His backside would peak under the material too, and occasionally, his half-hard cock would strain under the fabric that belonged to you.

It’s not like he can help himself. Your items, specifically your clothing, bear your heady, mesmerizing scent, and you smell really good. You can’t expect him to go on ignoring that.

Roommate! Matt who habitually and consensually tugs the waistband of your pants down, especially when you’re trying to focus on something. Don’t blame him, he just needs your cock inside of him too much to the point that you’re fucking him a little more than half of the time you’re with him.

╰┈➤ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥'𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐨

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐋𝐨𝐮𝐢𝐬

cw : MDNI - , sub Lestat, top male reader, dom male reader, sub Louis, slight service bot Louis, nsfw, birthday sex, mentions of blood, soft dom male reader, marking, heavy biting, fang play, poly, slight brat taming, slight internalized homophobia, awakening, threesome, iwtv movie, Louis is a brooding baby, as always, brat Lestat, Brad Pitt Louis, Tom Cruise Lestat, not proof read, anon request, wc: 4.8k.

Thinking of how the two vampires who've adored you for over a year are now ready to claim you as theirs only. How they can't stand the idea of being away from you any longer.

How they'd get on a bended knee for you, that behind closed doors the power switch was immense. How someone as cocky as a peacock suddenly becomes as domesticated as a house pet.

But you didn't just serve them. They served you. They loved you, and they wanted to grant you more of that obsessive love on your special day.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

hey can we appreciate afab gojo for a minute.. dicks are great and all but can we focus on gojo with a pussy because he definitely sobs when you play with it. rub your fingers through his folds and brush against his clit every now and then and he’s whining like a fucking dog, his blue eyes shiny and glassy with tears.

and his hole? he’s so wet, you barely even need lube but when you do add it, your fingers are sliding right into him with no resistance, his cunt easily giving way for you to stretch him out enough to take your cock. the lewd noises coming from him ( and his cunt) sound good enough to play on repeat, and his pretty pussy, w his wetness smeared all over it, his clit all hard and flushed looks good enough to eat.

maybe you do, maybe you stick your face in between his legs, licking and sucking like your life depends on it, eating up his slick like its your favorite drink. lick above his hole or his clit while your fingers are thrusting inside of him and he’ll squirt all over your face with a loud whine thats close to being a squeal, his milky thighs closing on the sides of your head, and if youre not willing to suffocate there, are you even sane?

dont stop after he cums, he’s a good boy for you, and he’s willing to stay still as you devour him, because he knows you’re not only eating his pussy for his pleasure, but yours too. he’ll mumble a quiet “no more” and moan that its “too much” but you know he can take it, so you keep stretching him out and eating him up,, and only after the third time he cums into your mouth do you stop.

maybe you’ll fuck his cunt and tear a few more orgasms from him, making him squirt on your cock until he’s passing out or crawling away. maybe you’ll have him suck you off, bruising the back of his throat while listening to him choke and gurgle around it, struggling to take you.

its up to you, because he’ll do anything to please you.

LETTERS: K, Q, V, Y

PAIRING: Sanji x MALE! AMAB! READER, TOP READER/BOTTOM SANJI

MINORS DNI!

Pairing: Kafka, Blade x AMAB!Reader

W.C: >1.9K

Content: Continuation of this drabble

Context: MINORS DNI, smut, bottom Blade, switch Kafka, top Reader, fingering, blowjob, anal, Kafka watches

A/N: First post of the year... happy new years everyone!