warnings: masturbation, grave desecration, kind of angst
wc. 742
heeseung version posted on my enha blog @/ireverie. i am not plagiarizing myself guys
haechan misses you.
he can’t take it anymore. nights spent skin-to-skin with you in his arms, nights spent with your body on top of his as you rolled your hips, nights spent with him panting in your ear as you rode the soul out of him all taken away in one second before he even got the chance to say goodbye.
three whole months have gone by since then and to him, it still feel yesterday. one minute, he was confident he would come home to you waiting for him like you always did, and the next, he got that phone call.
haechan fists his cock as he perches on your grave, jean-clad knees stained with dirt. he doesn’t care. cheap denim jeans are replaceable; you aren’t. he tries to touch himself the way he remembers you doing it, picturing your warm, soft hands and pretty, gem-embedded nails wrapped around his cock.
his eyes flutter closed. you would start slow and steady, looking into his eyes as you pumped him, smiling up at him with your gorgeous, enticingly sweet eyes. haechan moans at the thought. you always knew exactly what what to do to make him lose his mind. only after he got all worked up, tip leaking profusely with precum, would you finally go faster.
haechan speeds up. his eyes snap open for a moment, glancing around to make sure he’s alone. it’s the middle of the night, no one should be around unless, much like him, they’re a freak in violent need of help. sensing no one, he allows himself to close his eyes again and resume the image of you in his head, eagerly jerking him off.
the tip of his heavy, aching cock is sticky with precum that coats the palm of his hand. it covers his whole shaft as he inadvertently smears it everywhere, rapid palm lubricating his cock the way your mouth would. you used to love that about him; he always comes so much.
“fuck,” he groans louder than intended, the very thought making his dick twitch in painful delight, in sweet yearning.
haechan desperately wants to go even quicker, but he forces himself to have some kind of restraint, wanting to do this the way he knows you would if you were still here with him where you belong instead of six feet underground.
at first, it was chilly outside to haechan. but now the cool, crisp air goes unnoticed as the scalding heat burns his sensitive ears down to his flushed cheeks down to his bobbing neck. you would, he remembers, nibble at the flesh behind his ears, kiss his soft cheeks, and suck at the quick, throbbing pulse in the base of his neck.
“calm down, hyuck,” you would tell him, giggling in his ear. god, he loved that sound. he still does. he would give anything to hear it again, one last time.
he sheds the jacket, feeling suffocated by how increasingly hot his body is getting, and tosses it onto the ground. haechan knows he’s close, that’s the only reason he’s making himself be patient. you never wanted to finish him too quickly unless you were impatient yourself. you liked to to draw it out, to make him wait.
it was fair, haechan thinks. he was always so busy, so caught up with work and the like that he rarely had time to spend with you. it was only fair that you made him ache just the way you did when he was gone for days, sometimes weeks on end.
haechan wishes he would have gone about things differently. had he known his days with you would be numbered, he would have dropped everything to spend every available second with you. he would have never taken time with you for granted.
but he can’t hold back anymore. he needs to come. he needs you, but he knows that this as close as he will ever get to feeling you again. he teeth sink into his bottom lip a little too hard as he releases with a moan of your name followed by curses, shooting ropes of cum onto the nature-weathered stone of your grave and the dirt in front.
haechan breathes for a while, relaxing. he glances around, but still spots no one. then, he glances back at your grave, a heavy pang in his heart.
“come back,” he whispers wistfully, knowing you can’t hear him, but hoping you can.
your nose aches, plastered firmly against the double stacked flat pillow of your bed. the pale blue pillowcase snugly fit around the two pillows, concealing the aged stains and uneven fluff and harboring the faint scent of your shampoo. you take in abrupt breaths through your parted lips between each cruel thrust, only for the air to be knocked from them as soon as the lean hips pounded against yours.
you regret digging into your savings for things that now seem entirely useless, instead of letting the hidden cash collect a few bills larger to purchase a brand new mattress. the aged springs of your current bed creak terribly, sounding loudly in the room among his strangled groans, the slapping of skin, and the venomous hiss of your stepfather's words.
“why are you crying, little girl?” he taunts, his scorching breath fanning your ear. “you wanted a daddy, didn’t you?”
you whimper into your pillow, your fingers trembling as you clutched your sheets in what you couldn’t decide was fear or anger. you don’t speak, focusing on trying to keep yourself conscious between each brutal blow to your cervix.
rough hands twist your hair, yanking your head up from the pillow with a painful pull of your neck. you cry out softly, the creaky bed springs sounding even louder without the obstruction of your hair in your ears. “I asked you a fucking question,” he grits, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “answer it.”
you hiccup, the tears that soaked into your pillow now rushing down your face, “y-yes…”
he moans, hips rutting faster, his chest pressing into your back, the thin fabric of your shirt the only thing keeping him from touching your skin. “tell me you want me. tell me you want your daddy, little bitch.”
“I…” you swallow thickly, “I want you, jeno...”
one of his hands slithers up your arm, wrapping itself around your neck, squeezing just enough to make your heart thump even harder against your chest. “call me ‘daddy’. that’s what you want so bad, isn’t it? bitching and moaning about your real daddy. I’m your daddy now so fucking say it.”
you sniffle, taking in a rough breath as you feel his fingers squeeze harder. “daddy,” you croak. “I want you, daddy.”
“fuck, that’s it,” he grunts, lost in the steady rhythm of his assault. “do you hear how pathetic you sound? begging for a daddy at your age. you’re so… incredibly… fuck… pathetic. aren’t you?”
you nod as far as you can, feeling strands of your hair tearing from your scalp. “yes, daddy, I’m…” you hiccup, your entire body quivering in agony that seems to ripple through every inch of your being. “I’m pathetic.”
he groans lowly, clearly pleased. “yes, you are… a pathetic but sweet, pitiful thing.” his nose rubs against the soft spot behind your ear, inhaling the scent of your sweat and despair deeply. “say it again. say it until you believe it.” he thrusts again, pausing deep inside you. “because your daddy’s always right… isn’t he, sweetheart?”
jaemin was only meant to stay the first few nights in your new apartment, helping you move your furniture around to your liking and tend to small, broken things around the home. but he never left.
it has been weeks and you can still hear jaemin’s footsteps in the kitchen when you wake up in the morning and the occasional laugh as he scrolled through his phone in your living room.
it has been weeks and what started out as brazen knocks on your bathroom door have completely subsided. jaemin always seems to wander in just before you have the opportunity to shut the door. sometimes, he runs your baths himself and welcomes you home with a hot bath, the steam fogging your bathroom mirror and puffing up his silky hair.
you can shower just fine on your own now. not that you ever needed the help to begin with. but jaemin had always insisted and you were never very good at denying him, dreading the way his eyes would flash with something you couldn’t identify but never failed to make your skin crawl.
so, you wouldn’t make a sound when he’d wiggle the doorknob, twisting it just right to pop the lock and let himself inside. you wouldn’t make a sound as he rolled his sleeves up and dipped his hands into the thick layer of scented bubbles, his soft fingertips roaming down your slick skin, kneading the tender flesh of your intimate areas.
you thought thinks would be different now. that your voice your discomfort as he groped your tits, his fingers gliding over your nipples, occasionally tweaking and tugging on the pebbled buds until you squirmed. you thought you’d push his hands away as he pushed his hands between your thighs, his fingers pushing against your folds but never delving between them.
but you don’t. you simply sit there like you used to, attempting to keep your eyes from tearing up because you have been able to get used to the inappropriate behavior. you let him guide you out of the porcelain tub and pat a towel along your skin, focusing on your delicate areas for far too long. you let him slather a coat of moisturizer on along your body, groping and savoring the feeling of your supple flesh before he slides a pair of panties up your legs and drapes a pretty nightgown over your frame. you let him kiss your forehead tenderly before sauntering out of your bedroom as if nothing ever happened.
you hated the dark, before, when you jumped onto your mattress from the doorway as soon as you flicked the light switch. before, when a small salt lamp projected a soft hue against the walls and water pooled around its base. before, when you nearly tripped over yourself as you jogged from light post to light post on your way home. before, when he had thrown you in the first time. when the heavy door shut tight and you had no choice but to feel your way to the nearest wall, dirt sticking beneath your nails.
after that, light was a privilege — if you could call it that. it was a fleeting sight that hurt your eyes and forced them closed, only ever managing to see his silhouette walking into the room with eerie nonchalance. he never turned the lights on. the only time you had ever seen him was when he wrapped his arms around your neck, the other snaking around your waist to throw you into the back of an average looking black car. you saw his hair and plump pink lips, his nose and his eyelashes that fanned across his face, the moles that were scattered across his cheeks.
at first, you trembled in fear, eyes opening as wide as they could as if it would somehow aid you when not a single ray of light surpassed the bolted door. you blinked your eyes and pushed your palms against your eyelids until flashes of color appeared in front of you. now, you sit still, occasionally blinking when you have the energy to open your eyes. though, sometimes you aren’t aware you’d opened them until your waterlines touch.
you can see him, but only just. the light isn’t blinding which somehow makes it all worse. you have no excuse to shut your eyes and a part of you doesn’t want to. a part of you wants to absorb every single ray of light. take in every inch of your enclosure as you can before he leaves. you can finally see the carvings in the walls that you routinely ran your fingers against, trying to decipher the words. you can see the dirt on the ground and the piles of pebbles you tossed. but you can also see his ears. you can see the bead of sweat trickling down his throat. you can see the occasional flash of his eyes when his hair jumps a little too much, his irises impossibly dark and deep. you can see his lips that appear as plump and pink as you remember.
the light only seeps through the crack beneath the door, something he was usually careful about avoiding, but it seems his eagerness to attack you made him sloppy this time. as soon as he walked in he was on you. there was no cruel game of him searching for you, making kissing noises as if summoning an obedient puppy while you crawled from corner to corner to escape his nimble fingers.
it’s strange experiencing all of it. the taste of his tongue, the scent of his sweat, the feel of his calloused fingertips and his cock splitting you open, and now, the sight of his mouth hanging open as a whiny moan bubbles from his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down, his front teeth peaking past his lips. you can even see your own skin, your palms raw from rubbing, your fingernails brittle and broken, dirt clinging to your forearm.
his hands grip meanly at your naked hips, fingers trembling as he pants, dipping his head into your neck, licking up the side to your ear. your eyes fell to his back, seeing the strain of his back muscles against his t-shirt, watching his hips rut up and down with fervor, confined in a loose pair of jeans. you wish it was dark again.
for: @revehae because why not 🫶🏼 (it’s actually a reminder to stop neglecting your man for mine #freewonbin. open your eyes, nisha, your man is over there.)
"i'm not doing it, jeno" you grimace, brows cinched together in disgust as you struggle against the firm hand tangled in your hair. jeno's pants are strained, bulge pushing and pulsing against the dark material.
jeno simply huffs, shifting in withering chair he was always glued to when you were around. he wordlessly reaches for the button of his pants right below your nose, popping it. the material slides against your skin and you push against his hold again.
annoyed, jeno rolls his eyes, "you've done worse. i think you can handle my dick in your throat."
warmth seeps through the fabric, a heady scent attached to it. "i said no," you state, though your voice holds hesitation. "no more."
jeno huffs in irritation, roughly pulling his fingers from your hair. “you want it, don’t you?”
your hand holds the area, feeling a light pulse beneath your fingers. “I brought enough this time.”
jeno watches your gaze flicker to the table beside him where a small stack of cash is thrown lazily beside an open can of soda. he rolls his tongue in his mouth, leaning forward until his face lingers near yours. he pinches your cheeks between his fingers, the skin rough and calloused against your face. “I raised the price.”
you glance at the money again, “it’s more than enough.”
"just start fucking sucking," jeno says, his voice low and calm but his eyes are blazing. he roughly shoves your head backwards, glaring at you as he leans back in his chair, yanking his pants down his thighs, "or i'll tell everyone you let me fuck you to get your fix."
(im the one who first request ur last reblog) had to came here literally just to say that i was imagining jaemin the whole time too qhsudjej im a neocentral reader for long and still get impressed how much i genuinely feel everything u put out there plssss 😷
stepbro!jaem >>>>
traumatized czennies just get each other ig. this idea was all you and nisha though
this but more cnc but also not cnc ??? but like what if experienced reader is so good at playing innocent and she plays into their fantasy of a naive stepsis on purpose. they so easily fall for it and “take advantage of her” fully believing that it’s real but it isn’t
am I making sense ?
the perfect victim type beat IM FEELING IT walk with me walk with me. this might suck because im sleepy but it’s either now or like 16 hours from now // tw dubcon(?), stepcest
stepbro!member who is always, always gooning. you can’t help but hear him beating his meat night after night, moaning and groaning, and the sound always makes you wetter than you care to admit. some nights you even dare touch yourself, always much quieter than he is though, and frustrated because it’s never enough to fulfill your fantasies.
until your laptop decides to take it’s last breath one day in the middle of a very hectic school week and you need something in its place until you can get it repaired. stepbro!member’s laptop is always available, somewhere in his bedroom, and you take it while he’s napping, not bothering to ask. you’re not surprised to open it and immediately be met with a porn browser. he probably had a nut so massive it put him to sleep. but you are curious as to what gets him off, and it does take you by surprise to see something about “Hardcore Non Con” in the browser.
in the comfort of your bedroom, you secretly watch the entire video, starting it over from where he left off. which is surprisingly far. he must’ve been edging the entire time. either way, you watch it for yourself, imagining him doing all the things that happen - cruel, disgusting things that you know you shouldn’t want but can’t help but picture him doing and saying. you get off way too fast, as always when he’s your muse. it’s not until you climax that you think of the unthinkable… how to bait him into fucking you. you would be whatever he wanted you to be if it meant you got what you wanted.
you manage to sneak his laptop back into his room before he woke up, but popping back a few hours later when he was wide awake. “i have a question,” you say, shutting his door behind yourself with your hands behind your back, pretending to be shy. “what’s noncon?”
he is surprised to hear these words come from your mouth, and immediately glances to his laptop that he hadn’t touched since… well, since before his nap. “why are you asking?” he questions, suspicious. you reply back quietly, “i may or may not have taken your laptop…” he is even more taken aback by this, and appears a little frantic. “you did what?” he exclaims. “you didn’t see the tab?” you knew that he would ask that, considering it was glaring you straight in the face upon opening his laptop, and readily lied, “no…? i didn’t click it, the screen opened on a youtube tab.” you continued seemingly obliviously, “is it a workout thing?”
stepbro!member snorts at this, amused by your innocence but immediately noticing the opportunity to take advantage of your ignorance. when he asks if you want him to demonstrate, you reply with a reluctant, “sure…?” trying to hide the way you tense with excitement at what’s to come.
he beckons you over. the shock on your face is only pretend when he presses you into his mattress, trapping you beneath his body weight. you try to move but he’s stronger than you, and being overpowered only serves to make your thighs press together with need. “stay fucking still,” he hisses in a tone darker than you’ve ever heard from him. you play your role too, reaching out to try and stop him when he yanks at your shorts, only for him to lock your arms behind your back. you call out his name, whining, “s-stop it, you can’t do that. we’re siblings.”
“i don’t give a shit. you wanted me to demonstrate, didn’t you?” he snaps, running his fingers over your folds. the sensation makes you gasp and your knees buck against his mattress. “you’re fucking wet. don’t act like you’re not begging for this. stupid slut.”
you shake your head, denying it, even though it’s true. your body tremors with excitement, but he mistakes it as fear and chuckles. “please,” you beg, “let me go. i’m sorry. i won’t take your laptop anymore!”
“no you’re not,” he says, freeing his cock from his pants. it never takes him long to get hard again. you start to salivate the second it presses against your folds. “but you will be, fucking bitch.”
warning: necrophilia. as in dead people. as in they are fucking your lifeless corpse. yeah, you can’t say you didn’t know what you were reading, noncon, use of knives, cannibalism, mentions of kidnapping, conditioning
i still don’t write for taeil/jungwoo, but i decided to include them since this is short. don’t expect individual drabbles or full-length fics for them!
taeil
okay so technically this is more cannibalism than it is necrophilia (unless he eats you out ha ha get it ha ha ha) but walk with me. taeil would really enjoy making you into a loving meal. storing you somewhere so that you don’t rot so quickly, cutting you up and eating you in tiny portions so that he can enjoy you longer... he makes your favorite meals with a side of you in it to show his love. i honestly can’t imagine him genuinely killing you, so you probably died in some unforeseen circumstance and he thought that eating you would be a beautiful way of carrying you with him forever :( why should he be sad when he gets to savor your taste? he even sings your favorite songs as he carefully prepares into his lucky meal of the day. he doesn’t have any malicious intent and he’s doing it solely out of respect and yearning
johnny
okay. i know we went down the whole “johnny dissects girls” thing which was really hot. HOWEVER. he would honestly prefer if you were alive and i apologize if this is redundant considering my whole serial killer johnny thing, but him killing you only happens just before he’s about to cum. dare i say he strangles you. listen, he’s big on intimidation and intimacy (he sees no real difference) and you know how people say eyes are the gateway to the soul? well, other than him loving the look in your lifeless eyes, he also really just likes knowing that he was the last thing you saw. if someone asked, he would say that he knew you better than anyone else, that you two saw the most intimate parts of each other in that moment. he literally had your life in his hands during your final moments. is there anything more intimate than that?
taeyong
okay now this is a real necrophile! taeyong makes love to your corpse as if you can feel every careful, passionate thrust as he pushes himself in and out of your lifeless body. he presses sweet kisses onto your neck where your pulse has completely faded, to your lips that don’t move against his as they used to. to be honest, taeyong thinks you’ve never been more gorgeous than you are right now. and he tells you that much, even though you can’t hear him. he doesn’t change anything about you, you look about the same as you did before you died, but there’s something in death that is inherently beautiful to him. and not to mention that he takes such marvelous care of your body afterwards, like he has done his research on the best possible way to preserve a human body and he wants to keep you intact for as long as he can. he genuinely wants to give you the best possible place to rest
yuta
the way i see it, it probably starts off as an indulgence in mutually consensual knife play but then he gets a little too carried away… the knife presses into you too hard for too long until he even begins to twist it and hear you scream. and yuta most definitely likes to hear those noises from you, not bothering to smother them, just whispering, “that’s it, scream for me.” he’s not thinking about the consequences, about how your body starts to weaken and your blood is soaking his mattress, and in fact, as you begin to sweat and breathe loudly, he just continues to twist the knife. i think if it’s his first time he accidentally kills you too quickly, because he can’t help losing his self-control, but he’s also really obsessed with how you look so… obviously lifeless. the stillness. the blood dripping from every orifice. he has to admit that it gets him harder than just toying around with the knife does, and do you really expect him to not use you to get off? alternatively, if this isn’t his first kill, he would actually want to give you a semi fair shot of making it out alive! here, you get a knife too! but that has less to do with necrophilia and more his sadistic nature
doyoung
there’s absolutely nothing spontaneous about it. doyoung has been thinking about how he would kill you in detail for a while now. at first he tried to pry the sick thoughts out of his head, but he keeps thinking about how pretty you would look as his helpless victim. smeared in blood, trembling, resisting. i think he would even first stab you right where you least expected it, at the most beautiful moment of the night, like maybe while he’s kissing you or something. that moment of shock on your face as you jolt back and stare at him, handing falling to where the cut is, and looking up from your bleeding fingers to his face. he doesn’t even see himself as malicious, really. it’s a sensual thing, the way his knife moves in and out of you, the same way his hips do once you’re gone. i think he even works really hard to set the scene. if it’s the last night out of your life, why wouldn’t he go out of his way to make sure it was also the best?
jaehyun
he probably wholeheartedly believes that you’re still alive, at least for a few days, if not weeks or more. he redresses you in his favorite outfits of yours, such as the sundress that he likes, sits you at the table while he makes breakfast or dinner for the both of you, talking to you about his day as if you’re still there. and he still makes love to you at night, making you wear those lovely panties because he loves how they look on you the most. night after night, after night, as long as he can until he can’t ignore that you’re dead. jaehyun is another one that i don’t think gains any pleasure from killing you, he’s just delusional. so if he was the one who killed you, it was quick and probably unintentional or a result of him thinking he had “no other choice.” like hear me out, this is probably the result of long term kidnapping gone very, very wrong. him trying to condition you into his submissive little gf and failing terribly
jungwoo
he wasn’t even the one that killed you, or at least initially attacked you. he just happened to stumble across your dying body, and he was going to help you, he really was, but seeing those pleading eyes and the blood spilling from your guts… it woke up something in him that he never knew was there. so ultimately, he ends up inside you, thrusting in and out of you as you lie helplessly in the middle of fuck knows where. he doesn’t even realize that you’re dead until after he cums, and he gets hit with a wave of guilt, but he tells himself that you wouldn’t have made it even if he called an ambulance or something :(
mark
mark honestly didn’t even mean to kill you, to hurt you at all. he was just so frustrated with everything, work and his family and now you’re yelling at him as if he isn’t completely aware that he’s been different lately, that he’s wrong… he just can’t take it. mark snapped, that’s all. and it leaves him with a very dead you. when he realizes the gravity of what he’s done, the guilt is etched all over his face. even as he holds your hips tenderly, rolling into you with sharp thrusts as he presses you against the floor, he whispers in your ear, “sorry, sorry…” he’s so ashamed, can’t you feel it in how feverishly he moves inside you? because he knew this is what would have came next anyways, the makeup sex after the argument. “i’m so fucking sorry, baby.”
haechan
don’t even get me fucking started. haechan would also prefer you alive (at least to fuck you), but to be honest, you’re dead long before he kills you. because if haechan is going to kill you, he has to kill all of you. he pollutes your entire life before he defiles your body, because he takes a kind of sick pleasure of turning you from this innocent lovable girl to someone who has to have their fix of whatever drug he gets you hooked on before you even brush your teeth. you don’t even look the same anymore, purple around your eyes and chapped lips and barely even sleeping. you look like death. and to haechan, that still isn’t even enough. he has to make you a killer. at this point, he has you wrapped around his finger, convincing you to do whatever he asks of you. and you’ve been conditioned to obey his every command because he knows what’s best for you. so when he tells you to kill some girl, you do it, and he just watches proudly. not of you, but of himself. because damn, he really did that to you? he wants to high five himself. but honestly, the proudest moment is when he gets you to stab yourself. he honestly surprises himself, even, watching you with wide eyes. he handles the rest afterwards, telling you how good you were for him, how much fun it was watching you transform into your most beautifully ugly form, just before he delivers the final blow. it makes him feel high as he fucks your lifeless body, groping your breasts and tugging at your hair the whole time. you always let him touch you however roughly he wanted, take you however he wanted. and now…
haechan’s eyebrows push together, mouth parting and eyes shutting tight as a shiver runs up his spine, a tingle rushing from the tips of his fingers to his toes. he slowly slams his hips against yours, hard and slow, the coil in his stomach snapped and satisfied, his heavy balls and stiff cock throbbing as cum shoots from his leaky tip.
there’s a slight ring in his ears, his sensitivity at an all time high as an orgasm was long overdue. he grunts, the noise echoing through his brain, bouncing from one ear to the other before another sound, quieter, captures his attention.
haechan rips his eyes open, disgust making his nose wrinkle. he blinks a few times, the quick and high-pitched gasps coming from below him, from you, dwindling as he moves his gaze towards you.
haechan’s eyes find your chest, bare tits and hardened nipples jumping with each gasp. your stomach moves up and down with them catching haechan’s eyes and he mindlessly swipes the pad of his thumb over it. your legs tremble, lightly vibrating each side of his hips. your thighs are wet, glistening and plush, leading to where his body connects to yours. haechan looks, a thick, sticky white ring wraps around his cock, slowly trickling down your ass. haechan glances at your face, the wrinkle returning to his nose, another creasing between his eyebrows.
“did you just fucking cum?”
your hands are covering your face, the last of your small gasps muffled by your quivering palms. haechan then hears a sob between them, the bouncing of your chest suddenly shifting its pattern. your sobs are louder than you gasps, more violent, filled with emotion.
you hiccup, resisting as haechan yanks your hands away from your face. you look up at him, cheeks drenched and swollen, eyes colored red and dripping tears. your lips tremble, bitten and bleeding.
“oh my god… you did,” haechan spits, pulling himself out of your slick walls.
a months worth of haechan’s spent floods out of you, pearly and thick. your hole pulses, cunt throbbing as you squirm, thighs pressing into his sides.
“you’re so fucking gross,” he hisses, reaching down to gather cum on his finger. “what is wrong with you?”
haechan presses his thumb and pointer finger together, “you fucked up, filthy little bitch. this wasn’t about you. you supposed to get me off and look at what you did,” haechan pulls his fingers apart slowly, a sticky web forming between them, “you creamed all over my cock.”
you whimper, turning your head towards the cushion beside you to avoid his gaze.
“at least you can’t go crying about how you didn’t want it.” haechan moves away from you, pushing one of your knees towards the other, “clearly you did.”
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warnings: smut, noncon, virgin!jisung x (f) anemic!reader, drugging
wc. 990
i been writing this on and off for 24 days and youre telling me its only 990 words im not a serious person at all… fake news its longer now cause i suddenly added one (1) sentence. thank you @neocentral for holding a gun to my head
for two entire days, jisung was antsy. even the mere thought of you, no matter how brief, made a cool wind sweep over his shoulders and his gut tighten uncomfortably.
he knew what he was going to do, and he knew how he was going to do it, but even more so, he knew that it was wrong.
but if he knew that it was wrong, then why did he resolve himself to do it anyway? why did he smile in your face as if he didn’t know that he was about to hurt you? why didn’t he give jeno back his stuff, instead of holding onto it all this time?
jisung didn’t have any idea what it was, other than what jeno had told him while pressing the tiny bag into his chest. colorless, odorless, tasteless, and she’ll be out long enough for you to do all the dirty, perverted stuff you’re too scared to do while she’s awake.
but the truth was that compared to the thought of doing it while you were awake, this terrified jisung tenfold. would it still hurt you, bother you? would you feel the soreness between your thighs and instantly know what he had done? would you hate him more because you wouldn’t remember?
those were the thoughts hurtling through his head when you got up to use the bathroom. but if he was going to do it, he had to act quickly. your nightstand was littered with prescriptions pills and jisung knew you took the iron supplements every night. he poured the powder into your water bottle, watching it disappear as he shook it.
jisung’s heart raced at a rhythm he never knew could be possible when you came back and grabbed a hold of your water bottle. you didn’t make a face, drinking it like nothing was the matter. and he was surprised by how quickly you were out. in the few minutes it took to take effect, you didn’t even have time to become sleepy.
for a long minute, jisung didn’t even seem to remember why he had done this anymore. he was staring at your face, poking your cheek to see if you would react, but you didn’t stir. he worried that maybe you were dead, but when he put his finger to the base of your neck, there was still a normal pulse.
jisung’s breath quickened when he realized all of the things he could do to you right now. he didn’t dive in headfirst like he thought he would, his fingers absentmindedly trailing your soft skin first. he started with your neck, since his hand was already there, gently tightening his fingers around it. he wanted to mark you so badly, but he couldn’t.
he brought his thump up to your bottom lip, overcome by the formerly suppressed urge to kiss you, and with nothing to stop him, he pressed his lips to yours. he was mildly annoyed that you couldn’t kiss him back, but on the bright side, he still had the opportunity to touch you.
to do all the dirty, perverted stuff he was too scared to do while you were awake, as jeno put it.
his words always echoed in jisung’s head, influencing him in ways that were less than healthy. you could easily take her, if you weren’t so weak in the knees, jeno would tease, nudging jisung painfully. she’s anemic, for fuck’s sake. she can’t be that strong.
jisung pulled back to gape at you in your night gown. he always thought you looked good in them. the way they gave away your collarbone and the little lace ribbon where your cleavage stopped, and the way the cute sleeves cuffed at your wrists was endearing to him.
but right now, as he gingerly bunched up the dress and caught sight of your lilac, cotton panties, the only thing he could think about was how desperately he ached to be inside you, to feel your sticky, throbbing walls cling around his virgin cock. to prove that he wasn’t a coward, that he wasn’t weak like you were.
and for that reason, he couldn’t be slow and steady anymore. he knew there was no clock on him, nothing pacing him and nothing threatening to tear him away from the warmth of you, but his self-restraint had already worn thin and he was running on empty.
jisung convinced himself that you wanted him as he sheathed himself deep inside you with a guttural groan, every impatient inch of him. it may not have come from your mouth, but the slick somewhat facilitating his entry was answer enough. you may not have known what was happening, but your body was hyper aware.
god, jisung’s was, too. he couldn’t resist the tight squeeze, the way your pussy gripped him for dear life, and he tipped his head forward as his hands gripped your thighs to anchor himself before he fell too deep. even they were warm, the most cute and supple pair.
his eyes were completely closed, winced shut at the first pulse of your warm and tight cunt around his dick. he knew you would have loved him, if you could feel him. he knew he was big enough to please you. the guys too often teased him, saying he had all those inches, but not a hint of what to do with any.
but jisung knew right now. driving his hips passionately into yours, big hands clasping at your soft, moisturized skin, he knew he could make you feel things unimaginable. the sounds you were unknowingly yanking out of his throat, he could easily pull out of you. the way his face tensed with pleasure, he was certain he could make short work of you, too.
“so weak,” jisung whispered into deaf ears, burying his face in your neck, and breathing in your ravishing scent. he imagined you calling him sungie like you always did, and it only made him grunt. “it’s okay. i’ll protect you. like i always have.”
jaemin is perfect. his chest puffs with tense muscle, his arms bulge with built biceps, lines ran between every muscle in his abdomen, his thighs firm. jaemin is tall, too, long limbs holding him upright, carrying his weight and holding up his handsome face. his strong jaw and swollen lips, curved nose and piercing eyes. he is kind. his voice is deep but gentle, the words pouring from his pout crafted to perfection and dripping with charm.
though, jaemin had to have at least one flaw. that’s what jeno had said after a fit of obnoxious laughter. everyone had one, even someone as perfect as jaemin. jeno just found it incredibly amusing that jaemin’s only imperfection was between his thighs. it was jaemin’s cock that wasn’t quite right. it was disappointing and pathetic to put it simply and jeno had teased him because of the sheer disappointment that would race through the head of every girl that had ever laid eyes on him.
jaemin’s ears had burned a fiery red, hot to the touch. he knows that. how could he not? it was jaemin who tugged his own cock every night, frustrated and angry that he had to settle for his fist, never experiencing the squeeze of a clenching hole. though, jaemin wasn’t even sure it would work. every time he had gone down on a girl to avoid having their hands on his cock, jaemin tried to figure out if he would fit.
surely he could. it’s not like his cock was nonexistent, it was just… small. smaller than normal. a little thin, too. just a little. jaemin didn’t like to think about it, especially when jeno’s hung heavily between his own built thighs, bigger than jaemin’s when he was fully erect and jeno’s was soft.
jaemin never wanted to attempt to slither his cock between someone’s legs. at least, not anyone actually worth his time. he needed someone undesirable, unappealing. someone that faded into the background. someone no one would believe because there’s no way they could pull someone like jaemin.
jaemin needed someone like you.
jaemin hadn’t expected any sort of resistance. you should be flattered. it was na jaemin cornering you near your dorm room, against the heavy door in the room lined with broken vending machines and shitty ice makers. na jaemin pawing at your shirt and kissing your lips with his eyes shut tight, willing them not to open to keep him from going soft. he focused on the curves of your frame, groping and kissing down your body, ignoring every thrash against his chest as he tried to make your cunt slick and ready for him. if he managed to fit, he thought.
jaemin tugs your pants down your thighs, anticipation making his body hot as your heat seeps through his jeans. he’s finally doing it. a tight hole is finally going to choke his cock, giving him the opportunity to know what all the fuss about a girls tight cunt is about. why do men do such despicable things just to feel a woman’s warmth?
your underwear catch on your thighs, lopsided and pulling your knees together, but not enough to keep jaemin’s hand from pushing between them and along your slit. your folds are slick, your hole squeezing the tip of his finger as he slid it along the area. you are so hot and reactive to his every touch, unlike his fist that often went unlubricated, pumping his cock painfully as he tried to finish.
jaemin can’t take it anymore. he pulls his cock between his open zipper, glancing down and realizing the denim of his jeans bunched around his shaft, making him seem even smaller than he already is. jaemin sighs in annoyance, popping his button and pushing his jeans down to his knees. he catches your eyes falling to his cock but jaemin quickly grips your chin, pulling your face up until your eyes met his. he looks for pity in your eyes but he doesn’t find any, only fear stares back at him.
he looks away from you, keeping his eyes on the door behind your head, trying to ignore the weight of your tearful stare on his face as his hand holds onto his base. jaemin suddenly feels nervous, sweat making his shirt stick to his back as pushes his head past your folds. his heart skips as his tip feels the tight, small hole against it.
“please don’t do this,” you whimper, laying a hand on his shoulder but jaemin couldn’t care less. he was so close.
jaemin inhales as he pushes against the threshold, eyes fluttering shut once again as the unfamiliar sensation runs through his body in the form of a shudder. you simply gasp, breathing shaky as you let the air leave your lungs.
jaemin revels in the feeling, shallowly rocking his hips back and forth. a groan bubbles from his throat, the air fanning your ear.
“please…” you cry, “don’t put it in…”
jaemin stops, humiliation making his heart halt. couldn’t you feel it? jaemin was pushing in and out of you, unwillingly fucking you and you couldn’t feel it? somehow that felt even worse than him not being able to enter you at all.
he opens his mouth but he closes it again, unsure of what to say. he almost pulls away to let his cock slip out of you, but he doesn’t. you can’t feel him anyway. there’s no need to babble and bitch in his ear when you can’t even tell that every involuntary squeeze of your cunt is bringing closer and closer to his climax.
another clench has jaemin’s hips moving again, his hands falling to your hips to keep you in place as he pushes in and out of you.
I like the RIIZE ones, but can we get a Jisung x mute!reader drabble? Like, reader is totally mute and only uses sign, but he ties up her hands and renders her absolutely and utterly incapable of telling him no… mm 🤭
rating: 18+. mdni.
content: noncon, jisung x mute!reader
jisung didn't know what you were saying anyway. not bothered to even try to decipher the movements of your hands every time you tried to stop him. your hands moving quicker than he had ever seen, desperately calling for his attention as he threw you onto some rotting loveseat chair. you stumbled on your feet, looking up at him with fear-stricken eyes, and jisung cursed under his breath.
the couch creaked beneath you, an unsteady leg on the verge of snapping, the fabric torn, yellow stuffing tinted with green patches. it reeked, the smell wafting into his nose, but jisung didn't care. haechan had warned him of how absolutely foul it had become. jisung wondered how many other girls had met your fate. but he knew none were as special as you. the perfect victim. helpless in the best way. jisung thought of what haechan had said, can she even be considered a victim if she can't say no?
the room was dark, further obscuring the pleas spoken by your fingers as jisung easily fought you, wrapping thin rope around your wrists that twisted to get out of his grasp. a shiver ran up his spine when your mouth hovered over the side of his neck. he quickly pulled away at the sensation of teeth attempting to grab a chunk of his flesh. he blinked in shock, fixing you a look full of venom and warnings.
the determination in your eyes turned to frustration and despair as they began to leak slow and heavy droplets. you began to roll your shoulders, and he felt them tense as you attempted to pull against tight ropes. he watched the way your throat moved with every heave, the frequency increasing the more his digits explored your skin.
your feet swung, ankles twisting, knees propelling your legs towards his body that fit snug between your thighs, fingers breaking through the barrier of your underwear. jisung hissed, thumb grazing your slit, applying light pressure to your mound as he pushed the elastic of his sweatpants down to his knees.
when he sank into you, your mouth widened, your entire body stiffened and your back formed an arch. jisung shuddered at the warmth around his hard cock, a grunt bubbling from his throat. the tip of your tongue was a pretty pink, the color shifting and becoming darker the further up his eyes traveled, finding the back of your throat. jisung began to move, lithe hips snapping against yours quickly, pulling out slowly, and repeating the process to feel your walls sucking on his throbbing cock.
the sounds that filled the silence of the air were disgusting, wet and slippery, loud and utterly lewd. jisung's moans made you grimace as he could no longer hold them back. but you stayed put, losing hope as he mercilessly pushed in and out of you, hands groping you, teeth nibbling on your supple skin, fingers playing with your plump lips that could do nothing to help you.