#and then your passion is going to turn into something that just makes you bitter

[kittenintheden]

When I Think About You

surprise jorkin it PWP fic drop lol. enjoy.

Rating: Explicit Pairing: Astarion/Reader (You) Word Count: 1550 Content: 18+, jealousy, voyeurism, masturbation, mutual masturbation (sort of?), pillow humping, gender-neutral Tav/Reader

AO3 Link

You went to bed early tonight.

Well, earlier than you typically do. Not that Astarion has been paying you much attention. Hardly any, really. You’re just easy to miss.

Notice. You’re easy to notice. Because you’re so obvious.

Obviously annoying, obviously infuriating, obviously determined, and obviously infatuated with him. True, that had been his goal, but hells, you could blush a little less at his come-ons. Even if it does look cute on you.

Not that he thinks you’re cute. Not really.

The others are packing up their gear and turning in for the night. Astarion will take first watch like he typically does, have a quick trance, and get up in the early morning hours for a hunt. Easy. Routine.

So what if he’s falling into a routine with these people. It makes things simpler.

He should check on you. Just to make sure you’re not ill. For his health more than yours. These days, a headache could mean a rapid onset of calamari face. He’s doing everyone a favor, honestly.

When he approaches your tent, his steps slow to a stop as his ears pick up noise from inside your tent. You aren’t asleep.

And by the sound of it – and it’s a sound Astarion knows well – you aren’t alone.

He huffs an irritated breath through his nose. Gods damn it. He really thought he had you in the bag. There’s a shard of something sharp lodged beneath his rib. Annoyance, probably. Disappointment that he’s back to square one. Bitterness that he lost another competition, even when he’s doing what he does best.

Astarion turns to walk away. Takes three steps. Stops. Turns his head back toward the sound.

Who is it?

Who are you with?

He has his suspicions, but might as well take a quick peek to verify. His steps as he approaches are catlike. Not that you’d notice anyway, preoccupied as you are. He won’t look much. Only enough to see who stole his prize.

His mark. Who stole his mark.

Astarion pauses at the far side of your closed tent flap and finds a gap in the cloth. He leans in, eyes keen in the dark, and his mouth goes dry when he sees your hips grinding against someone, the length of your body pressed tight to theirs while you move over them. A blanket covers you both, but it doesn’t hide the passion of your movement.

He jerks his head away, a ball of tension aching in his gut. Ridiculous. He should go kill something. He walks toward the woods.

And stops with a sigh.

Astarion hates himself for it, this burning curiosity to know exactly who you’re riding so enthusiastically. Steeling himself, he creeps back and peeks once more through the split in the fabric.

You’re sitting up, now, showing him the long line of your spine in the center of your bare back as your hips continue to work. Every puff of breath through your lips is desperate, occasionally lilting up in a breathless moan.

Astarion worries his lip between his teeth. The muscles beneath your skin ripple, your blood thrumming so close and smelling so much of you, sweetened with the scent of arousal. If you’d just lean a little one way or the other, he could see who’s working you so… so…

There’s a flash of heat in his core followed by a sparking current of electricity, setting everything alight. He’d been doing his best to ignore the steady swell of his cock, but ignoring it is no longer an option as he goes hard as stone, the length of him straining toward his hip bone. Subconsciously, he cants his hips into the empty air and finds absolutely no relief. He has to swallow back a soft moan of his own.

The rolling globes of your arse are shaped perfectly beneath your thin wool blanket. Sharp, rocking thrusts against your playmate, against whichever lucky wretch currently feels the sticky heat of you while he watches.

Astarion lets his hand drift to the front of his breeches and sucks his breath in through his teeth when his palm grazes firmly over the covered head of his cock.

 You run a hand up your side and feel your own chest, maintaining your rhythm as you whimper.

Astarion’s fingers move to loosen his laces, lips parted as he begins to softly pant.

Your hand moves back down and you’re… yes, you’re putting your fingers between your legs, and you throw your head back with a gasp.

His fingers dip below his waistband and he curls in on himself with a huff as he takes himself in hand and begins to pump. Once, twice… ah, gods, that’s nice.

Though being under you would be even nicer.

Lucky sod. Who is it?

The blanket slips down over the curve of your arse, falling to one side and his breath catches as he realizes he’s about to get his answer.

Fabric falls aside and your incredible arse is grinding back and forth. You’re riding yourself to absolute delirium with…

A spare bedroll.

Astarion’s hand stutters to a stop and he doesn’t even breathe as realization hits him. You weren’t with someone else at all. The whole time, you’ve been furiously fucking yourself, grinding needily against your bedding for relief.

And somehow, some way, that makes him even harder. He mouths “oh, fuck” and goes back to stroking himself with renewed vigor. 

You’re desperately aroused, no longer trying to quiet your whimpers as you work your hips in circles against the bedroll while you rub yourself at the same time, your shoulders flushed with need. Your body undulates in wave after wave and Astarion feels quite certain that if he were inside you right now, he’d have come already. He puts his free hand over his mouth, pressing his palm to his lips to keep quiet.

You make a frustrated noise and swing your leg off the bedroll, and for a brief alarming moment, Astarion thinks you’re about to give up, and there’s no way he could let that stand. For either of you.

But then you shove the bedroll away with a huff and flop onto your back without opening your eyes, which is good news for Astarion, since you’d almost certainly see the silhouette of him outside your tent if you were paying attention. Instead, you spread your legs wide and give him a glorious view as one hand returns to its place between your legs and is quickly joined by the other.

Astarion shudders out a breath, the sound thankfully masked by your own rapid pants as you stroke yourself with one hand and trace around your entrance with the other. When you push two fingers inside and begin to pump in and out, Astarion’s knees threaten to give out as he picks up his pace. The tide of pleasure in his core rises and threatens to crest.

Gods, gods, he isn’t even fucking you and you’re still going to make him come before you do.

Your pretty little moans are too much. Your furrowed brow, your flushed cheeks, the way your thighs twitch and your belly shivers with the pleasure you’re lavishing on yourself. What a beauty you are, what a treat, what a-

“-arion,” you whisper, so quietly that he nearly misses it.

“Hah,” he breathes, his pleasure shuddering right on the edge of its peak. His mind must’ve filled that in. There’s no way you said what he thought you said.

He presses his face to the split in the fabric and leans against the tentpole, jerking himself firmly as he watches you arch your back up off the ground, lifting your hips into the air again, again, again, until your hands slow.

“Oh, Astarion,” you whisper just before you slam back down to earth and groan out your release, your slick making your skin shine in the low light.

“Sh-”

Astarion slams his hand over his mouth and ducks to the side, sinking silently to the ground around the corner of your tent just before he creams himself, a pulse of spend striping the ground beneath him, followed by another, and another. His head hangs heavily before him as he catches his breath and dazedly tries to piece together what the fuck just happened.

He sits back, chest heaving and ears ringing.

Then whips his head to the side when he hears you stir inside the tent and tentatively say, “... Hello? Is someone there?”

Astarion holds his breath, which does not help with his current state of floaty lightheadedness.

Then you say, “... Astarion?”

And the sound of his name on your lips sends another ripple of pleasure through him as his cock pulses and drips one last time for good measure.

It takes a minute, but you eventually convince yourself you were hearing things and settle down to sleep, presumably in a more relaxed state than when you first retired. Astarion waits until your breathing slows before he sneaks away, silently tucking himself back into his clothes.

He holds his breath the entire time.

On the other side of camp inside the safety of his own tent, he releases it in a rush, running his unused hand through his curls as realization finally catches up to him.

“Oh, no,” he whispers.

[new-haven-psych-ward]

it is rare in toku shows where i want an old person to yell at a young upstart artist that they're not as good as they think they are but dang am I hoping that happens in next week's gavv

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[jj-one]

MIND GAMES ⋅˚₊ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ pairing ꒱ ˒˓ bf!Jungkook x gf!reader ˒˓ established relationship genre/tags. smut, v small amount of angst, fluff, thigh riding, face sitting, body worshipping, jk lowkey simping hella hard in this & we love to see it <3 words. 1.4k

**old repost from my deleted blog

“Can you stop ignoring me please? It's driving me crazy.” You whine to your nonchalant boyfriend, urging him to mutter at least one word.

He has been giving you the silent treatment since this morning. You and Jungkook got into a petty argument that could've been easily resolved within seconds had he not just stormed out mid-convo.

Rightfully so— you were upset by him not wanting to talk things out and he got all defensive by saying you were ‘overreacting’. The bickering only spiraled from there and once you realized you had to leave for work you left without even saying goodbye.

You felt bad for not at least giving a peck on the cheek but you were slightly annoyed by how immature he could be at times. Once you came back home, you wanted to talk with him immediately to patch things up yet he's still being difficult with you. His silence was speaking mere volumes.

“So you're really going to play that game now huh? You know you can't ignore me forever Kook.” You snicker, all those pent up emotions filling you with an intense longing for him. “Can you say something?”

Jungkook remained quiet as a mouse, still refusing to speak, just sitting there examining you. Taking all of you in, basking in his own little glory. He wasn't trying to ignore you at first but now it has turned into a game for him. His only goal was seeing how far he could push your buttons until you break.

There was nothing more frustrating than craving someone's affection. His affection. Usually he'd give it to you on a silver platter, spoiling you with all the love and attention he could provide. But today — you were gonna have to work for it, and that you did.

Since talking wasn't the solution you try your best guess and think of something else. That's when an evil plan struck your mind — you were going to get a word of out him one way or another.

You were still wearing your work clothes so you strip naked right in front him, taking off every piece of clothing to only leave you in your panties. He tried to make it not so obvious that he was staring but you could feel his eyes on you the whole time. Still quiet, he looks up at you with his big, brown doe eyes — glancing over every inch of your bare form.

Licking his lips while leaning back on the couch he takes in all of you, losing himself in your alluring gaze. As much as he wanted to believe he had all the control in this situation, you played a deafening role in making sure this won't be an easy win for him.

As soon as you fully undressed you make your way over to Jungkook, subtly swaying your hips to send a rise out of him. Walking up to your boyfriend you find yourself straddling his thighs between your legs, the bitter silence only creating a thicker tension. His face looked so innocent, you couldn't help but go in to kiss him. Grabbing the side of his face to pull him in for a sweet, sensual kiss, molding your lips to match his hungry movement.

He was passionate with the kiss — almost leaving you winded by the end. You could tell that he's been holding that in since this morning, you couldn't open your eyes afterwards, savoring in the taste of him on your tongue.

“I'm an asshole, sorry y/n. I don't know why I do the things I do sometimes… but l'm thankful I have someone as patient as you in my life.” Jungkook finally spoke, his gentle tone brings you a familiar source of comfort.

Heated make outs turned you both into even more dangerous territory. A constant rush of heat surges throughout your body, leading all the way down to your aching core, you swung your head back in pleasure while riding your boyfriend's pretty, muscular thighs. The light-blue distressed jeans he wore showing just the slightest bit of skin to make you go feral. The weak, sweaty kisses in between rutting against him — the friction of his jeans grazing over your clothed heat, making you feverishly whimper out for him.

Jungkook couldn't keep his hands off you if he tried. Everything about you is absolutely stunning and perfect to him. His hands dance along the perimeters of your body, tracing every line and curve of your heavenly beauty — embarking on the notion that you are all his. He needs to show how grateful and lucky he is to have you more often.

“God... need you so bad right now..I don't wanna waste another second without having my cock inside you.” He keens, migrating his lips up the side of your earlobe.

He's going to have to put in the work to get a reward like that though.

“I want you to eat me out then we can talk later.” You boldly counter, not even giving him an option at this point.

His face lights up with an idea, “Wanna sit on my face princess?” You nod right away, letting Jungkook maneuver you to the side so he could lye down comfortably — he looks up at you with wandering eyes as you go in for another kiss. He hums into the kiss, moving his hands to grab your ass. It's beginning to become too unbearable to keep your panties on.

Breaking the kiss to remove your soaked underwear, you toss them on the floor and meet your boyfriend's handsome face once again.

The anticipation was killing him, he couldn't wait to devour your pretty little pussy already ;( As soon as you positioned yourself below him, he held onto your thighs with both hands — making eye contact with you as he pressed a kiss to your swollen bud.

Any minor touch to your clit makes you overtly sensitive, letting out a tiny mewl from the light action. His lips part open to dip his tongue into your wetness, “mmmh... fuck Koo” you hiss, already needing to brace yourself to not cum early. His mouth always works magic on you, leaving you with an earth-shattering orgasm every single time.

He flattens his tongue completely now, dragging a long stripe across your slit, drinking up all your essence, letting none of you go to waste. His face was so deeply buried into you all you could see now was the top of his head — grabbing a fistful of his messy hair to pull on later. You rock your hips back and forth to build more movement, grinding on his face while not having a care in the world if he could breathe or not.

From the looks of it, there were no complications on his end since he started moaning against you — the vibrations sending instant chills to your spine. You feel his nose brush up against your bundle of nerves, his tongue appears again to spread it’s brutal attack on your clit. His warmth on the sensitive sprout makes you jut your hips into a hastier motion.

“Shit... keep going just like that…i'll cum all over your face,” you cry out, feeling yourself close to making a huge mess and creaming all over his face.

“Cum on my face please, my precious little doll.” He only breaks away to say that quickly and attaches hisself back instantly.

Those words did it for you, it was like ultimate green light to reaching your climax. Two digits enter your weeping cunt and his tongue goes back to sucking on your puffy abused clit — the knot in your stomach tightens as he produces sloppier licks to your leaking folds.

A lusty, guttural moan escaped your lips, screaming your boyfriend's name at the top of your lungs. Jungkook keeps your hips steady with a tight grasp to help ride out your intense high; his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping. His face saturated with the glint of your sweet nectar, he licks his lips and savors the delicious taste of you, there's nothing that'll ever compare.

"So beautiful my baby.. so fucking gorgeous.." he chants under his breath, kissing the apex of your thighs. He'll never get tired of admiring your pretty body— or you in general.

Jungkook has always been more of a giver than a receiver, he likes to watch his partner writhe under him, loves when they cry and violently shake while he's giving them the most pleasurable moments of their life. He also likes to get what he wants in the end but that isn't always needed for him to be satisfied. He'll get his nut eventually, but in the meantime he's going to keep playing with you some more.

[theonevoice]

Have a gold star...

I swear, I started this as a wholesome innocent comment on how when Crowley has to think of a prize, after 6000+ years, his sweet head still goes to stars as the ultimate symbol of something beautiful and cherished.

But then I was struck by something: sarcasm.

Both times, when he tells someone to "have a gold star," he doesn't say it with a tone of affectionate irony, like the cool-but-sweet uncle with a rough personality but a soft heart. He says it with a tone of bitter sarcasm, of painful disenchantment.

Because it's not a prize that he is offering; it's a sop, a cruel joke-gift, something that will get you excited at first just because you have a stupid, naive, innocent soul, and you will later realize that it means nothing to the one who assigned it to you, and that they are ready to take it away whenever they want, while the rest of the world laughs at your ridiculous gullibility.

Because this is what stars were for him.

They were his beloved, exciting creation. The star-factory nebula was his cherished task, assigned to him by God, and he believed that it was meant to be a thing of beauty and splendor, and hold value in the grand scheme of the universe... only to discover, immediately after he created it, that it was never intended to have any value at all. It meant nothing to God. It wasn't even planned to last enough to fullfill its purpose. It was a joke, a cruel prank. 

The stars were God's bad pun of giving angel!Crowley something to do, and love, and have hope and expectations for, and then taking it away. Revealing that it was just a shiny piece of gold cardstock that only a simpleton could consider valuable. Of course he can only say "have a gold star" as a dry snarky sarcastic comment on someone who thinks they have achieved something meaningful when it's actually nothing. Be it the Them defeating the Four Horsemen. Be it Muriel being noticed by the Metatron.

Great, sure, have a gold star, be all excited and squealing with happiness, it will turn into ashes before you even know it.

I am not sure that Crowley's snake eyes were ever intended to signal that he cannot see the stars because snakes have bad vision (even ignoring the zoological fact that they are sensitive to UV light though, so they should still see astronomical objects, in the book it says that demons must be able to see at night, and that's why Crowley doesn't need to turn on the lights on the Bentley), but for sure the Fall and Heaven's cruelty has ruined the stars for him, in a way.

Now, in his mind, they are the ultimate symbol of delusion, of naivety, of foolishly investing your love and passion and hopes in something, of stupidly ignoring that the things you cherish will be ruined or taken away from you or leave you on their own accord.

That's also why Aziraphale's "nothing lasts forever" cuts him so deep. That's why his "no... no, I dont' suppose it does" sounds so much like a truth that he is remembering instead of one that he has jsut discovered.

Here you go, you did it again, you thought you had something significant and instead it was just like your stars, you should have known that whenever you find something beautiful it's just a matter of time before you lose it, you shouldn't get too attached.

In s1e6 he says it to the Them, in s2e6 he says it to Muriel. I do hope that in s3e6 he will get the chance to say it again, but this time it will be honest and out of joy, because whatever is going to happen will make him able again to believe that you can be happy, and can hold onto the good things that you love. You can have all the gold stars, for real. They don't always have to disappear and leave you in pain. They can stay with you.

[getosbicth]

𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧. (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞.)

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

part 1: sharing is caring; part 2: dinner; part 3: devotion (coming soon!)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

His other lover left a message for you, carved into the flesh of your beloved, love-bites on his neck and scratches on his chest and back...

"I want to meet him."

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,876

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 18+ ONLY, NSFW! CONTENT, MDNI, infidelity, unprotected sex, cucking (just a lil), polyamory, threesomes, weird pillow talk

a/n: part two is out! decided to write a part three soon upon the request of an anon.

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠.

He smells of cherry liquor when he returns home. He'd give the excuse he's meeting with his allies for staying out so late, plotting the downfall of Jujutsu Society and those damned higher-ups who cast him out as a child. But you know he only drinks whiskey and red wine, yet the bitter-sweet taste on his lips gets you drunk and you have no choice but to ignore the infidelity happening behind your back.

He'd call out his name when he's asleep. He dreamt of him so many times you'd lost count but stayed awake every night to see if something had changed- if he'd call out your name instead. Sometimes you'd wake him up, tell him he was yelling in his sleep and that it scared you. Then he'd kiss your forehead and apologize, pull you closer and hug you like you were the one he wanted to be with.

You'd find notes in his coat pockets, saying where and when to meet, it was as if he wasn't even trying to hide it. You knew, though, that this man your lover was seeing was a secret that could never come to light. You were the one by his side, you were the one everyone knew about. You held onto that belief like it was your lifeline, like it mattered at all when you knew your position was only temporary. A distraction from the cruel reality that Suguru couldn't be with him.

It turned you bitter. How sweet it must've been to meet each other against all odds, to still want to be close to one another after everything they've been through. To meet under the veil of secrecy, so intimate and heart-wrenching. You didn't want to share, yet it felt horrible to think about stepping in between them, knowing full well he wouldn't choose you in the end.

So you stay silent and taste the bitter taste of cherry liquor on his lips, smell the faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla in his hair. Your heart aches with the thought of sharing your beloved, the man you so deeply adored. Then again, it fuels a fire within you, something you've never felt before, and every night turns into a chance to prove your love for him. 

You surrender your body and your soul and he takes you for all you're worth, kissing you and loving you more and more passionately each time your bodies find themselves tangled in the cold darkness of your shared bedroom. You get addicted to the thought of him with his other lover, fully aware that, truthfully, you are the other. It gets you going and you become someone you don't recognize, you coax him into bed whenever you feel him straying. You make him feel so good he calls out your name in desperation, satiated and still craving more, you give, you give and you take from him.

You become malicious in the way you love him, taking control and denying him satisfaction, making him beg for it.

Until one night he comes home late, drunk and disheveled. You see the bites on his neck, the scratches on his back when he takes his shirt off and you feel rage boil in your blood. His other lover left a message for you, carved into the flesh of your beloved and your eyes tear up. How could he disrespect you so blatantly? You feel helpless and betrayed by a person you've never seen before, the one who took a part of your beloved already and was trying to take more.

“I want to meet him.”

You can tell you've just turned his world upside down with only one sentence because he freezes and then let's his hair down to cover the marks on his neck.

“Who?”

You're already naked in bed, waiting for him, but you stand up and walk over to stop him from putting on his T-shirt. You yank it from him and throw it on the ground, “He can't do this. I don't want to see it, Suguru.” You say with a wobbly voice, dragging your finger across the scratches on his chest.

He takes your wrist to stop you from touching him. “I don't know what you're talking about.” His eyes have turned cold and the emptiness in his voice makes your stomach turn with unease. 

“Suguru, I didn't say anything. I've let you be with him because I know there is no other way. But I don't want to have to see how he touched you and-” You feel sick to your stomach. “I want to meet him.”

His gaze softens and he hums, contemplating how to proceed. “How long have you known?”

You huff in frustration, not believing he thought you were that stupid when the signs were so obvious. He wasn't even trying to hide it and he had the gall to ask you how long you've known. “Since forever. That's why I believe I deserve to meet the man my lover is trying to hide from me.”

He chuckles, placing his hand on your bare back and tracing his fingers down your spine. “How do you think you two should meet?” He says and pulls you into him, fueling that fire in the pit of your stomach with every graze of his cold fingers against your burning skin.

You feel yourself mellowing out, “Dinner?” You whisper as he leads you to your bed, making you crash onto it as he sneaks between your legs and starts kissing your thighs. “I don't know what would be appropriate.”

He drags his tongue along your inner thigh and you squirm, feeling frustrated about the conversation at hand but not wanting to make him stop what he's doing at the same time. If you're being honest, it excites you to know it's your turn, that he wouldn't simply leave you hanging after having his fill of this elusive man you were talking about.

“Would you want me to bring him here?”

Your heart skips a beat because you know exactly what he's insinuating. “I-” Your words get stuck in your throat when he starts licking and sucking on your most sensitive place, but you manage to keep talking. “I d-don't know. I- Ah, fuck.” You grab his hair and grind against his tongue, hearing him chuckle at your desperation. 

He's greedy in the way he consumes you and his greed appears as generosity. He's doing this for his own satisfaction, because it fuels his pride to know you need him so bad you'd consider letting his other lover in just to keep him for yourself too. You love the way he loves you, though, you love that you can call him yours as well and that he wouldn't leave you, no matter how perverse the reasoning behind all of that is.

“Would you want to meet him at dinner, and then you can decide if we come back here?” He hovers over you, on his knees and completely naked now, rubbing himself between your folds before plunging in with a low groan of satisfaction.

You watch his head fall back and inspect the red marks on his chest and the love bites on his neck; you feel yourself tighten around him. When you think about it, there's something sexually devious about knowing someone else is just as depraved as you, who would surrender to sharing this man just to get a piece of him. And you understand that person, because this is Suguru and you could never give him up.

“Yes.” You whisper, “I want to know more about him, though. What is he like?”

He looks down at you as he spreads your legs and buries himself deep inside, “Right now?” His cheeks are tinted red, as if he feels embarrassed to tell you about the man he believed he was cheating on you with.

“You don't think I'd like him?”

He hums, “He's very high maintenence.” He says as he rocks his hips slowly into you and you whimper at the intoxicating friction. “He's very pretty and he knows it.” He twitches inside of you when you groan in response, satisfied with the way this is turning out. “He likes women, too, so that won't be a problem. You can have your fun with him, too.”

You feel yourself blush and cover your face, “You wouldn't mind?”

He chuckles, bending down to kiss your breasts and neck, “Why would I mind? I would love to see that. Two of my favorite people together… I don't know what I'd do…”

You whimper and drop your hands from your eyes to see he's smiling at you, mischief dancing around in his eyes. “Tell me more.”

He nods and picks up his pace, whispering in your ear as you feel yourself slowly unraveling under him. “He's needy. He likes begging me for more, just like you.” Suguru kisses your neck, goosebumps all over your body as you listen to him whisper perverse things about his other lover into your ear. “He always tastes sweet because he loves sugar more than anything.” He fucks you even faster and harder and holds your legs down so you can't close them as you scream his name. “He's the strongest sorcerer of today, but such a little pretty princess when he needs me.” He chuckles, “Is that enough for you?”

You shake your head, “More. Tell me about-” You scream out when he hits a spot inside of you that hurts and feels incredible at the same time. You're falling apart, feeling so dirty and so depraved while you listen to your sweet Suguru tell you about how nasty he'd been behind your back. It makes you feel new types of pleasure, something so deviant and sinful that it makes your legs quiver as Suguru fucks you feverishly into the mattress. You're jealous, but your curiosity overcomes it and you need to know every detail about this man and what he's been up to with your Suguru.

“You want to know about how I fuck him, hm, baby?” He whispers and you feel him twitch inside of you as he thinks about it, “He likes it rough, wherever and whenever. He's not like you in that regard, I know you love being at home. He likes when I fuck him in my car. That's when he gets loud, I think it turns him on to be put into uncomfortable positions.”

You whine as you imagine it, a pretty boy being fucked mercilessly by your lover in the back of a black Mercedes, uncomfortable and yet drowning in pleasure. It turns you on to envision it because you're a voyeur at heart, you'd love to see all of Suguru when he's so riled up and adamant at making someone scream his name.

“Oh, f-u-uck-” you cry out, “Keep talking, I'm almost there, Sugu-”

He kisses your neck, breathing heavily, “Me too, baby.” He mutters, “I can show you how he likes it, if you want, it's easier than talking.”

You nod rapidly and he flips you over instantly, pushing your face into the pillow as he pulls your ass up and bends your spine into an uncomfortable position, penetrating you even deeper than before once he enters again.

You feel your eyes tear up from the pain, but pleasure prevails and he continues his deranged pace, the slapping of skin echoing in the silence of the dark room. “Yeah, just like this, oh my-” he groans and pulls you by your hair to your knees, “Or like this,” he says and bites your neck as his hand wraps around it and cuts off your airway until you're lightheaded. Your spine is still bent at an angle that makes your insides stretch and you feel how tight you are around him, even though his pace never let's up.

You're a whimpering, bumbling mess as you completely lose yourself to him, unable to talk or even think at all. 

“Oh, both of you feel so divine, I couldn't let go of one or the other.” He groans next to your ear, pushing you forward until you're pressed up to the wall, the cold contrasting the scalding hot skin of his torso against your back. “I'm close baby-”

You whine as you feel his thrusts subside in speed but not intensity, your legs shake and you cry out one final time before coming undone on his cock as he fills you up with himself and his cum, feeling fuller than you've ever felt before.

He doesn't stop after he's done, though, he likes to feel your insides flutter around him and loves overestimulating himself with your sweet pussy until it simply hurts to have you anymore. His movement is slow, it gives you butterflies at how tender he becomes. His hands are exploring your body, grabbing your breasts and thighs, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he takes in the sweet scent in your hair. He's reveling in the sensation of your tender body against his and shaking from the captivating pleasure.

“I want to meet him,” You whisper again and make him laugh.

“You can meet him, honey.” He kisses the back of your neck and sneaks his fingers between your legs to touch you, making you whimper in protest, tired and fucked out. But he loves torturing you, so he doesn't stop. “You'll see, you'll get along just fine…” He keeps kissing you and touching you and your legs are shaking again.

“Sugu-ru-” you choke out, clawing at the wall, “Too much-”

“I know, honey, just a bit more…” He whispers into your ear, “You know I love to see you like this, so pretty.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers move skillfully to make you come once again, keeping himself nestled deep within your guts. You feel full, and he tells you you're so good for letting him torture you to his hearts content. “So sweet,” his lips graze your neck and you shudder, “So warm, hmm… I could stay inside of you forever.”

You moan at the thought, and he starts moving again, slowly, making sure you feel every little detail of him sliding against your insides. It's sensual and his hands are like hot lava dripping down your body, melting you entirely. He shows you there's no need to be jealous, no need to feel bad about sharing when he's got so much to give and when he needs both of you equally. 

“Do you feel better now, sweetheart?” He kisses your cheek, hugging you tightly.

You nod in response and turn around to face him. “I feel better, my love.” You say and kiss him, tasting the sugar on his tongue from the one who'd had him before you. “You're right, he does taste sweet.” You mutter, gazing at his lips and wondering how much sweeter he'd taste if you kissed him directly. It's a passing thought and you feel the jealousy prod at your heart once again, but you blame Suguru for these kinds of thoughts. He's the one who could manipulate you into being just as perverse as him. The question was whether you minded or not.

“Oh, really?” He chuckles as you push him down on the bed and climb on top of him, pulling the sheets over your naked bodies and snuggling into his warm embrace.

You sigh, “Sugu… Did you tell him about me?”

He sighs as well, “I didn't think of the possibility that you might be okay with that.”

You frown and sit up on top of him, “So he doesn't know about me at all? You didn't bother hiding the fact that you're seeing him from me.”

He looks guilty for a second, “I think he knows. He would've let me know if it was an issue. Just like you didn't up until now. You know him and I can't be together for real, so…”

You roll your eyes, “But you are. You screw him wherever and whenever, right?” You cross your hands over your chest and he looks down at your breasts, suddenly distracted from the serious matter at hand. “My eyes are up here.” You say in a deadpan voice.

“Yeah,” he pulls your arm for you to lay down again, “But we aren't public. Nobody knows except you. And I'll say I'd like it to stay that way, even though I know you won't tell.”

You give him a peck on the lips and smile softly, “I'd never.” 

He smiles back, “So, dinner?”

You nod, “Dinner."

a/n: thank you for reading! part 2 is out! part 3 coming soon!

[lullabyes22-blog]

Real talk because you are THE resident Silco expert and all your headcanons are 100% correct: why does fandom think Silco would be good in bed? (Or good at sex at all?)

I've seen headcanons about him being a giver, and about his dick game being fire, and while he's a sexy, charismatic man, I feel like he's too... selfish, insecure, and just not a romantic guy. He's also a very bitter, lonely, and angry dude. Idk, it makes sense he would have some kinks but I feel like he'd be too much of a bitch to care for anyone else in bed. I guess he'd want it rough, and I've read some fics where he's a sadist, but I feel like it'd just be a quick fuck to satisfy himself, not a slow, passionate, sensual thing.

idk, do with this what you will.

I agree - with nuance 💗

Silco - at least as I write him in FNF - is principally a headfuck. If he's demonstrating an interest in you, then he wants something from you. If he's nice to you, there's a bottom line. No act of generosity comes without strings attached, and every small kindness comes at a terrible price. That aspect of cold-blooded calculus is never far away from his base nature, which splits the world into assets and liabilities, and his own actions into a transaction of cost versus reward.

With that in mind, he excels, not at sex, but at getting his partners to do what he wants them to do. For him, it's one of the many fluid ways of expressing power, and demonstrating his mastery over the subtleties of the human body and mind.

A few readers have noticed that he comes across as very detached and controlled during FnF's sex scenes - and that they read as weirdly voyeuristic. That always delights me, because it's an intentional choice. He doesn't really see his partner as anything beyond a medium to his goals, so his focus is entirely on their physical responses and his own actions. His narration is distant, observational and impersonal, because he doesn't experience sex as something that involves an emotional or empathetic connection. Rather, he's gauging how his target's responses play out on a physical plane, and he's calibrating his own actions to maximise their impact.

To give credit where credit is due, he's very intelligent, patient and observant. There is also some realistic backing to the running gag that Good D is invariably attached to Bad Men. More specifically, Bad Broke Men. Silco has not grown up in a position of privilege or wealth. He has been forced to make use of every available resource. He has survived by the skin of his teeth on a constant knife edge of deprivation, hunger and fear.

He's a scrapper. He's a survivor. He's an opportunist.

And to be any of those things, you need to know your way around people: their wants and weaknesses. That's the foundation for the idea that he's good in bed - that he can anticipate his partner's desires, and respond accordingly. The difference is, his actions have no romantic underpinning. It's a matter of pure pragmatism and self-interest.

In terms of technical skill, he's likely very good at finding his partner's pressure points, both literal and figurative, and exploiting them. But if it were up to him, he'd find a way to turn the thumbscrews with nothing more than a well-chosen word and a cold look. The sex is just a generality, and his enjoyment a function of their compliance.

When it comes to actual intimacy?

My friends, he'd be spectacularly bad.

Not just bad, but skittish, hostile and hopelessly inept. He'd feel like an accomplished stage actor who has to step out onto the boards for an improv class. He hasn't got the right lines, he isn't dressed for the part, and he isn't even sure what role he's supposed to be playing. He'd be so awkward, he'd actually have trouble looking his partner in the eyes. The sum total of his sexual ouvre would devolve into the following comedy of errors:

"What the fuck is this?"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Don't touch me there."

"This is going well, right?"

"Why can't I get it up?"

"I can't do this."

"Leave me alone."

"Where are you going?"

"Don't leave me."

"They always leave me."

"Why does everyone leave me?"

And he'd only spiral deeper into self-loathing and isolation. To submit to intimacy is to open oneself up to the mortifying ordeal of being known, and the constant risk of rejection. To Silco, it is anathema. Actual emotional vulnerability during sex would be not unlike attending his own public execution.

But.

Silco is not a one-note villain, much less a one-trick pony. He has a human history riven in deprivation, bloodshed and betrayal. He's remade himself from a 'weak' man into the premier kingpin of Zaun, but that predatory bracing still hides remnants of the soft-natured idealist he once was. In fact, he's the product of a deeply embedded internal conflict between two distinct versions of himself. The one who seeks to burn his enemies, and the one who seeks to save his city. He's also, as demonstrated by his love for Jinx, capable of profound devotion, loyalty, and a deep-seated longing for companionship.

That means the potential for romance exists. It's just buried deep, deep, deep down beneath years of abuse, neglect, trauma, and self-imposed barriers. If he meets someone who can dismantle those barriers, or bypass them altogether and earn his trust, there is a ray of hope.

Sex would still be frightening and uncomfortable, and it'd involve a lot of trial and error. But it'd also have the potential to be deeply healing. Not because Silco would become a better man, but because his partner would make him want to try. He'd also bring the same intense focus, intelligence, and determination to the task that he applies to his criminal empire - which means that, once he does have his sea legs, Silco would have the potential to become a truly giving lover.

It's all about context.

And the context is always: will he take the gamble when he has nothing to lose, and everything to gain?

[tragedy-of-commons]

To put it lightly, Kaveh is incensed.

Sat at the dining room table, seething with a tick to his square jaw, all of his thoughts scrambling for some semblance of purchase.

Just who do you think you are? How did you find out about his debt, and more importantly, why did you pay it off in its entirety for no good reason? Most importantly, who are you? Taking the moral high ground by wiping all of his financial troubles clean anonymously is...

...is a wonderful thing. He's so grateful that there are tears in his eyes as he fights the urge to stand up from his mandated breather to hunt you down himself. If you know about his issues, who's to say that you don't know about his living situation too? He'd been so careful - well, save for the time he'd gotten a little tipsy and blabbed to the whole tavern - but that's neither here nor there!

But what is he supposed to do, really? His hands are idle, and no work is getting done because for once he doesn't have to crunch any commissions. There's nothing to pay off, nothing glaring to make up for because that's all he's been doing for years and years. Running in circles, dragging his own feet - so much so that he truly thought he was fated to be miserable. He can breathe a bit easier, and he actually tastes the humidity seeping into the house.

You are horribly audacious, but Kaveh can't even express it because you are philanthropic to boot. It's humiliating, thinking of himself as a charity case, even if it's true; he lives rent-free in his sort-of-friend's home, hanging off of Alhaitham's back like a leech, struggling to find work that he actually likes. But now? Now there is one less monumental burden obscuring his creative vision for the future.

Archons. He's crying, wiping away the beading tears with his coarse palms. Kaveh can't even thank you or give you anything in return. He knows it's petty to be bitter about a miracle such as this - so many have it worse and hope for this everyday - but it stings. It stings like a scorpion, venom spreading slowly to every limb before lulling him into a delirious fever dream. It stings because he couldn't pull himself out of the mess that he made.

He rises from his chair with a vengeance before realizing how silly he looks with his hackles raised. He has to do something... try to track you down, maybe. He could try to get some more information out of Dori, narrow down the list of suspects. Yes, that's what he'll do next.

The logistics of this plan contribute to Kaveh's (oddly painless) headache that he's nursing. It's too late in the day to interrogate anyone right now, though it doesn't stop him from imagining doing so as he goes about doing pointless chores to keep himself occupied. The dishes are surely going to get scuffed with the force of his scrubbing... sometimes he forgets he slings a claymore around.

What will he say when he finds you? He could try and convince you to ask for a refund, if that's even possible. Surely your sizable wealth could be put to use somewhere better - an actual noble cause, perhaps. If that doesn't work, he could always do some work for you off the books. That's what got him into this mess, after all - passion and his craft and whatever else other scholars would turn their noses up at.

Would you even accept his service? It's the least he could do. Kaveh's mind can't help but conjure up all sorts of ideas of what you might be like, images of foreign dignitaries on vacation to juggernauts of old money flashing before him. No matter, he'll pay you back no matter what.

Before he truly he goes to bed that night, Kaveh is struck by the epiphany that debt truly controls his life. If he is not in Dori's, he is in Alhaitham's. If he is not in Alhaitham's, he's in yours - whoever you may be. No kindness offered to him will ever belay the guilty bite of his lip, but only worsen how deep he drives his teeth in. As always, he pushes that thought deep down into the recesses of his mind.

Instead of acknowledging that he is cruel to himself, he will paint you as the cruel one.

It's what he does best, artist that he is.

[nayedoll]

let the light in

joost klein x reader

warnings : fluff / not proof read

a/n: little scrap i wrote at 3am after listening to too much lana del rey and feeling romantic loll 💟

───────────────────────

“So, did you enjoy the film?” Joost asks as you both sit down on a nearby bench, the sea in front of you painted in a palette of oranges, pinks and purples because of the sunset.

You shrug your shoulders, “It was good besides the ending,” Taking a bite of the fries you and Joost had bought with the intention of sharing.

“How so?” Joost furrows his brows, his smile encouraging you to keep on speaking.

You sigh, “Well, in my humble opinion, she should have ended up with the other guy,”

Joost’s eyes are fixed on you, listening intently as you go on a rant about the movie you just watched; it was a rom-com that you, of course, had picked out and definitely didn’t expect Joost to agree to come along with you, knowing his taste in movies. Nevertheless, you’d given it a try because… well, because you really liked Joost, in all the years you’d been friends with him and you had always secretly hoped for something more— and when he actually agreed, you were dumbfounded to say the least; in his own words, it would be like a little date. You knew he meant it as a joke, but still it made your heart race with excitement. But you also knew that for him, you were just a friend— or at least you thought so.

As you finish talking, it is only now that you realize how tiring your rumbling must have been for Joost to listen to and immediately, you apologize for talking so much.

“No it’s fine!” He reassures you, his voice as comforting as ever, “You’re really cute when you get passionate about something,” You smile at him, scoffing at the cheesiness of his compliment but in reality, you like it.

You hold eye contact, like always, but now something feels different in his eyes, more intimate maybe? Your body reacts for you, your face turning to look at the sea, taking time to think; the idea of Joost reciprocating your feelings had never occurred to you before, nor did it now. Maybe you were scared of facing the truth because you couldn’t handle the possibility of things not working out and losing him altogether, or maybe you’re just a coward.

“What are you thinking about?” His voice rings in your ears over the sound of the waves hitting the shore.

All you can do is sigh. “Just think it’s funny that I have so much to say when I’ve never even experienced love like that before,” You say, referring to the film, forcing a dry laugh in an attempt to make your words sound less serious. Joost though, he senses the bitterness in your voice, sees the disappointment in your eyes.

“Don’t say that. I’m sure lots of guys would kill to be with you,”

A smile graces your lips as you feel a jolt in your stomach; could he also be one of those guys? You finally face him, and again, something feels different in the way he looks at you, it almost makes you want to confess to him right then and there. ,

“How would you know that?” You laugh.

“Because you’re the prettiest girl I know,” He answers immediately, and you pause for a second, unsure of how to react; did he mean it? Or were those words of pity?

“Hey,” He says in a low voice, his fingers gently lifting your chin, “I mean it.”

You scan his face as the sun now casts a warm glow on his skin, highlighting his blonde hair and the light blue color of his iris. He’s so beautiful, it hurts to hide from him.

He brushes a few flying strands of hair out of your face, then cups your cheek in his hand, caressing it with his thumb. You can feel him get closer, your body also instinctively leaning towards him, as if a magnet is pulling you to him.

“You’re beautiful,” Joost mutters, your lips almost touching; you hold your breath, your eyes flickering between his lips and his eyes, unsure of how much longer you’ll be able to keep it together.

Joost saves you the trouble and leans in, fully closing the gap between your mouths, gently at first before he deepens the kiss. Your hand reaches for his hair and you play with it, feeling him smile into the kiss.

He pulls away hesitantly to catch his breath, resting his forehead on yours. You sit in comfortable silence, taking in the moment of intimacy, Joost holding your hand tightly. You kiss it, yearning eyes looking up at him as you mouth ik hou van jou to him, this time not just platonically. Joost hugs you you, kissing your forehead, the warmth of his body comforting you in the midst of the cool summer breeze.

“I love you too,”

[entername322]

Beautiful Symphony

Minji (New Jeans) x Male Reader

Length: 13204

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Warm, that's the first thing Minji noticed as her consciousness starts to come back. Then the smell, an addicting brew from the mixture of bodily fluid that you and her ooze last night. “Morning cutie”, Your voice, reverberating all over the empty room, kick-starts her brain. She opened your eyes to see your smiling face, not the lusty and hungry smile from last night, rather a warm and loving smile. “Morning oppa”, She smiled before crawling forward to kiss you.

“Hmmm, you need to brush your teeth”, She scoffed and retaliated by slapping you, “Are you tired?” She nods her head, although it's more like she's rubbing her head all over your chest with a motion that resembles a nod, but that's a mouthful to say. “Hey, stop that, you'll leave a burn mark”, You pulled out her head making her frown at you. “Hahahahha, oh god, you're so cute sometimes”, She knows it, but she wants you to reward her for being cute.

You gave her a kiss which is enough, for now, “Hey stop daydreaming”, You blow some air into her face making her open her eyes. “I'm hungry, so why don't you go brush your teeth and wash your face so we could go out and get breakfast”, Minji shook her head and hugged you tighter, “Babe, please?” She sighed and sat up, “Let's go then”, She grabbed your hand trying to pull you up. “Oh no, I've already brushed my teeth and washed my face when you are busy sleeping”, Minji frowned at you before leaping in to get another kiss. “Still come with me oppa”, She grabbed your hand and pulled you up. 

“I have to go till night today, I might not come back here today”, Minji glared at you through the mirror as she is brushing her teeth. “I got some matters to attend to, I'll see you tomorrow”, She quickly finished brushing her teeths and cleaned her mouth. Then she turned around to look at you, anger and jealousy was written all over it. 

"Night?" Minji's voice was husky, thick with sleep and something else – a shadow of suspicion that sent a shiver down your spine. You met her gaze, her eyes narrowed, searching for cracks in your façade. "Band practice, internship, the usual grind," you said, your voice lighter than air, barely a brushstroke against the taut canvas of her suspicion. "Thought I'd give you the morning to yourself”, How thoughtful of you.

The silence that followed was pregnant with unspoken accusations. You knew this game was dangerous, playing with fire you couldn't control. Minji's possessiveness, once endearing, now loomed like a storm cloud, ready to unleash its fury. "And Haewon?" she spat, the name a poisoned dart piercing the fragile bubble of your lie. "Is she part of your 'usual grind' too?” The question hung heavy, a bitter pill coated with suspicion. Haewon. Just a name, a footnote in a story already written. You hated yourself for using her, for dangling her ghost before Minji's eyes, just to see the flames of jealousy lick at the edges of her love.

"Haewon is-" you started, but Minji cut you off, her voice cracking with a raw vulnerability that twisted your insides. "Nothing? Like I'm just a distraction until your precious Haewon decides to make up with you again?" she hissed, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Thrill starts to crept up on you, this charade, this twisted puppet show you were orchestrating, it's beautiful. The urge to push, to see how far you could bend her before she snapped, remained a serpent coiled in your heart. Taking a deep breath, you reached out, a tentative touch tracing the curve of her jaw. "No, Minji," you whispered, the words choked with regret. "You're not a distraction, you're… everything. I'm just…”

With inhuman speed she jumped into you, her hand grabbing your cheeks as she crashed her lips onto yours. You had to hold her up again, the same way you did on your first kiss last night. The kiss felt raw, passionate, filled with unbridled rage that has ignited inside her. It was ecstatic, you wonder how much can you get away with? How far is too far until the relationship between you and Minji got ruined? For now, you'll carefully dance around the edge, try to find the line you can not cross, try to, ruin her.

“I'll spend time with you until lunch, but at lunch I'll have to go meet up with my friends”, Her body tensed up, the paranoia and anger has overtaken her. “You don't have to go, just stay here with me oppa”, She's right, you don't have to go, especially because you don't really have plans for the day. “I do, but come on, stop being so gloomy, I'll spend time with you till lunch. I promise I'll make it up for you”, She felt itchy all over her body, just the thought that you'll be gone, doing god knows what, it infuriates her. “You don't have to make it up to me, if you stay at home with me”, You carry her back to the bed, gently laying her down as your hand starts to undress yourself. “How about this then, I'll fuck you and emptied my balls inside you. That way I won't be able to go and have fun with Haewon even if I want to, not that I ever want to do it”

The proposal intrigues her, but she still doesn't want you to leave her. Her life has been so empty for a while that she just can't let go of the person who manages to bring some warmth into it. “Come on babe, don't you want me to fill you up again”, You pull up her hoodie and your finger starts tracing around her belly. Instantly she remembered the hot burning sensation you gave her last night. How addictive and pleasurable it was. Just like that, you managed to convince her.

“Fine”, She undressed herself as well, her eyes staring at you hungrily, wanting nothing else but to eat you whole. “I want to try something first oppa”, Her hand grabbed your cock, gently holding on to it as if it might just break if she wasn't being careful. “Oh? Here I thought you were a pure girl”, Oh she is, until two days ago. Scared of embarrassing herself Minji has done a few, research, regarding sex. She did it just for you, how romantic.

Minji slowly caressed your cock to make it erect. It was a bit of a slow process but seeing how eager she was to suck your cock made you feel a little excited. Her hand wrapped around your shaft and stroked your cock up and down as she looked up to me and smiled. She moved in closer and kissed the tip before licking it like a popsicle. Her small face made you feel like your cock has grown larger, maybe your ego needs to be kept in check soon, before it gets out of control.

She slowly moved her lips down to the head of your cock and started to suck. It goes in halfway before she starts letting out some gagging sounds. “Don't need to take it all in babe, it's your first time after all”, Your word of reassurance only made her feel insecure. “Don't give me those eyes, I mean it, it's okay, nobody can't take my full length with their mouth anyway”, Damn, calm down with the bragging dude. Minji felt content with your words, slowly she moved her head back and forth as she sucked on it, looking up to you while she did it. Her eyes are begging for your approval.

“Good girl”, She squeals, giving you some funny feeling on your cock. The compliment made Minji feel more excited as she stepped up her game. She slurped on it doing some very sloppy and messy blowjob. She looks up at you, her eyes red and tears falling down her cheek, she sucks your cock like her life depends on it. Moan after moan came out of her mouth, which made you wonder, how dirty of a girl is she? She grabbed the back of your thighs and pulled you closer to her as she sucked you harder. Her spit starts bubbling around her lips making a very thick liquid concoction as it mixes with your precum.

“Enough baby girl, let's get to the main course shall we?” She wanted to protest as you pulled her off your cock, “Did I do bad?” The cute pout seems to contrast very hard with all those saliva running down her lips and chin. “You did great, I just want to fuck you right now”, Hearing that you didn't stop her out of pity, she excitedly turns around and offer you her pussy. “Look at you, so wet already?” Your finger starts playing around with her hole, “Ahhhh, oppa, you said you want to fuck me already”, Minji doesn't like when she's being bullied like this. “I'll do what I want, babeee~” Yet she really likes it when you get so aggressive and dominant.

As you start fingering her, you wonder how on earth did you managed to fuck her last night. “Oppa, stop playing around”, Her stomach is already hungry for your cum. “Fine, take a deep breath”, She smiled full of anticipation as you slowly slid your cock into her pussy. The tightness is almost suffocating to you, yet you persist and push deeper. The moment she swallowed your whole cock her leg starts to quiver, “Oppaaaaa”, You just made her cum.

“Hehehehe, this is fun”, The sight is amusing to you, especially since Minji's face is trying to keep her cool and fails. “Haaaa, haaaa, haaaa, oppa, move”, Despite her apparent fatigue she still wants you to fuck her. “Okay babe”, You started slow, not wanting to break her. Yet with how sensitive she is, even the slow movement is enough to make her moan and shivers. “You're gonna lose your mind if I continue this”, You tried to warn her, but Minji doesn't like that you're pitying her. “Just, fuck me, oppa”, Whatever Minji wants, she'll get it. You pick up your pace and start pounding her for real this time. 

Minji tried her best to keep herself in check, yet her moans can't lie to you. After a minute of pounding she already reached her second orgasm. “Oppaaaa”, She screams, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, her legs locked on to your waist, her pussy is strangling your cock as she squirts all over you. Due to the leg lock you can't really continue fucking her, although you really want to.

“Baby, look at you, you're already so defeated”, Come on now, stop bullying the poor girl, “I can still take it oppa”, Her tears are falling down her cheeks already. “Really?” She nodded furiously, “Okay, one more chance okay? If you cum again then I'll stop”, She nodded. Of course you wouldn't make this easy for her, you leaned down and started kissing her as your waist went to work. Minji tried her best to focus on your mouth, the sweet taste of your lips, the fight between your tongues, the… it's really hard to disregard the huge cock that's breaking her in two right now.

“Oppa, cum sooner please”, She said it with such adorable tone you can't help but laugh, “I'm not joking, cum in me oppa, I can't wait anymore”, Thankfully for her, those cute gestures really push you over the edge. “Fuck I'm cumming”, Minji immediately grabbed your head and pull you for another kiss. She moans and screams into your mouth as she is trying to hold her orgasm. Then the warm feeling she's been waiting for came and all her walls crumbled. Both of your bodies are intertwined, Minji is pressing on to you so hard there's probably not a single pocket of air between the two of you.

It was heavenly, for both you and her. Minji felt like she might pass out any moment, the sudden increase of dopamine in her brain caused it to short circuit. Her body is also dying from the three consecutive orgasm, yet her hand just won't let you go. “Babe, let go of me, let's cuddle for a second”, You drag her to get in position in the bed for cuddling. Her breathing starts to slow down as her eyes are struggling to stay open. “Go rest up baby, you had your breakfast already”, She smiled victoriously before dropping her head on your shoulder.

“I don't want you to go oppa”, She whimpered, “I have to baby”, One day she will learn how to read through your lies, then you will be fucked. “But what about me?” She looks at you like a lost puppy. “You’ll be fine baby, you're a strong girl. You can handle one day without me right?” Minji felt scared, just the thought of going back to her quiet lonely days is haunting. “I need you oppa”, She sobbed, “Ssshhhh, babe, I'll be gone for one day, I promise I'll make it up to you didn't I?” Always pull her harder after you pushed her away, you've mastered this scummy technique huh. “I want a date”, Yeah that was already part of your plan, “I want oppa to sing for me”, That one too, “And I want oppa to make me pregnant”, Okay not that one though.

“You're insane babe, you're not ready for a baby, neither am I”, You can't really see Minji since she's pressing her back to you, yet you can already tell she's frowning. “I don't care”, With how childish she is, getting a kid would end up with you babysitting two childs. “You’ll care when you realise getting pregnant means we won't have sex for 8 months”, She didn't think of that, “Oppa, please?” Oh right you're forgetting something, “I need to buy you some birth control pills, I'll be back”, Minji was thoroughly pissed when you let go of the cuddle, she turned around to find you already leaving the room. “OPPAAA”, You hear her screams echoing the hallway as you run off into the sun. “This will be fun”

.

.

.

“Alright, so you're gonna tell me everything or what?” Your dad finally got home after 3 days in vacation, yes you do realise it was a vacation as soon as you heard your mom also left. “Dad, did you and mom plan this out?” He shrugged, acting carefree despite there's some excitement and worry in his mind. “Weirdos”, Quite hypocritical of you, “Says the guy who cheated on his girlfriend for his new sister”, You know what? Your dad is weirder than you since he doesn't seem to care that much about it. “Okay, just tell me what did you and mom planned for me and Minji?” You decide that it's not the time to talk about Haewon.

“Well, as you may have known, Minji is not exactly a very sociable person. Jinwoo is very concerned for her. So as any parents would, she tried to find someone to befriend her”, You put out your hand to stop him, “Befriend?” He laughs and nods. “That was the initial plan. However she met me, and we got in a relationship. The talk about introducing you to Minji has been around for awhile. I think it was around the time we plan to announce our relationship to the two of you that she plan to just play matchmaker and try to hook you two up”

You stay silent for a while, “You two are an idiot”, Well that's kinda rich coming from you don't you think? “I told her it might have gone wrong, but she insisted that you won't be able to handle Minji's charm. Your mom is very good at judging characters you see”, Is it judging characters or just straight up omniscience? “Okay so now me and Minji have become a thing, and you two are fine with it?” He nods, hiding his worry for now. “And if things went wrong, the two of you will take full responsibility for the family drama?” They won't, but your father nods. 

“So, you two are getting married then?” You tried to change the topic, “Yes, in December”, There's this little question that hangs around in your mind, which surprises you. For now you'll just leave that question alone, after all you might still be too high with the moment to think clearly. “I think, Minji wants us to move together”, It was pretty obvious due to how vocal she is with her dislike of leaving you for the last few days. “Figured, we do plan to move in together soon, me and Jiwoo of course”, Living together like that might prove to be complicated.

“Why don't you, move with mom, Minji and I can stay here”, Very bold proposal bro, “That can be arranged”, Seeing your dad just approve it makes you anxious. “Really?” He laughs seeing your bewildered face, “Yeah boy, we can deal with that. Do you want us too or not?” Do you want to have a full empty house to yourself so you can have sex with Minji everyday? “Yes”

.

.

.

The next day, you came back to Minji to update her on the talk you had with your dad, also the future plans. The words, "we're moving in together," hung in the air, vibrating between you and Minji like tangible threads of your future. Her eyes, wide with a disbelief that morphed into pure, unadulterated joy, were like fireworks exploding in slow motion, each spark a reflection of the sunbeam dancing on her nose. "Really?" she breathed, her voice a delicate whisper, barely audible above the excited thump of her heart. You could see it, the question hanging in her eyes, the echo of past insecurities threatening to steal the spotlight from this moment.

"Really," you confirmed, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. Your thumb lingered on her cheek, tracing the soft curve of her smile, a silent assurance that this wasn't some fleeting dream, but a sturdy brick laid in the foundation of your love. The dam of her happiness burst then, flooding her entire being. A shriek that contained all the pent-up joy, excitement, and relief of a thousand insecure whispers, erupted from her. She jumped into your arms, her laughter a melody against your heartbeat, her tiny fists pummeling your chest playfully.

The sunbeam on her nose flickered like a dying ember, replaced by a glint of something darker, something predatory. An unnerving stillness descended, broken only by the frantic drumming of her heart against your chest.

Just you and me oppa. No distractions, no Haewon, no whispers and touch from any other girls. It will only be you and me. 

You've noticed these changes, Minji's golden eyes, once pools of sunshine, shimmered with obsidian depths as she spoke of your shared home. No, it wasn't just joy radiating from her, it was the glint of a dragon guarding its hoard, the intoxicating aroma of a love so absolute it bordered on smothering. And you, my oh my, you relished every charred note. "Together," she breathed, the word a possessive caress, "just us...in our own world", You chuckled, a low, dangerous rumble that sent shivers down her spine, just to watch the fire in her eyes flicker with a touch of uncertainty. Yes, let the doubt creep in, let the fear linger, for it was in those cracks that your obsession took root.

"Always, Minji," you murmured, the word dripping with honeyed deceit. You traced the curve of her jaw, her skin like warm satin under your fingertips, a fleeting touch that promised eternity. She leaned into you, a moth drawn to a flame, unaware of the inferno she danced with. "No secrets, oppa," she purred, a silk-wrapped threat. "No more 'band practice' or 'internships' to hide behind. Just us, woven together, you know what moving in together means right?" You smiled, a predator savouring the thrill of the hunt. Yes, let her weave her web, let her trap herself in the gilded cage of her own devotion.

The possessive tremor in her voice, once a source of amusement, now sang a melody of exquisite dissonance. This love, hers, it wasn't a symphony; it was a cacophony of desperation, a twisted masterpiece you were eager to conduct. You, the orchestrator, the puppeteer, the master of this danse macabre. "A haven, oppa," she whispered, her fingers tracing invisible circles on your chest, branding you with her touch. "A haven just for us”, You let the word echo in the air, a gilded cage morphing into a labyrinth of your own design. Yes, let her believe you were the captive, the bird trapped in her song. The irony, oh, the intoxicating irony.

For as she spun her web, thread by thread, brick by brick, she was building not a prison for you, but a mausoleum for herself. Each whispered promise, each possessive gesture, etched your name deeper into her soul, leaving no room for anything but you. You, the poison in her veins, the obsession in her eyes, the only melody her heart could play. You, the wolf in sheep's clothing, the puppet master playing with strings of devotion. She, your willing prisoner, slowly, deliciously consumed by the inferno of her own making.

The lines, oh, the lines had blurred beyond recognition. Were you the hunter, or were you the hunted? The answer, a delicious enigma that danced on your lips, was both and neither. You were two sides of the same coin, bound by obsession, tethered by the twisted cord of a love that devoured and consumed. In this game of hearts, there were no winners, only survivors. And as you watched Minji's eyes, once radiant, now burning with the feverish glow of your design, you knew, with a wicked twist of your lips, that the only real prisoner here was her, her heart a gilded cage locked around your name. “Take off your clothes oppa”, Minji said, removing her sweater, “Isn't your mom right down the hall?” Look at her, such an innocent sheep, broken beyond belief after tasting the sweet fruits of sins. “She won't mind”

The two of you dived into each other, both of your hands are busy undressing the other person while your lips are interlocked together. As you take off her sweater you abandon the kiss and went to her tits. “Oh, yeah oppa, that feels good”, Your held her body close as your mouth start devouring on her tits. You bite her nipple, maybe a little too hard than you usually do, “Fuck oppa, more”, Yet she likes it. Oh yeah, she will be perfect for your sadistic tendencies. “Let me leave you a mark okay babe? So you don't miss me when I'm gone”, She nods so quickly her head might fall off.

First one, right around her nipples, a beautiful cage right around her stiff nipple. “Fuck, oppa, that's it, just like that”, Minji starts to whimper as her hand are pushing your head deeper into her. “Beautiful”, You kissed her nipple as you watch the first mark. “Ohhhhh, I love you oppa”, Minji moaned as she sees the bite mark, “Now, now, I'm not done yet”, The second one, at her cleavage, usually you left this on Haewon and let her parade it around. Of course Minji never leave her house, but the hickey will be enough for her to see everytime she glances under her shirt. “Fuck oppa, come here” as you finished your second mark Minji pulled you in for another kiss, her hips start grinding on you.

“Babe, one more?” You break off the kiss and start grinning, “One more okay? Then we fuck”, Minji's pussy is sorry itchy for you, but the whole marking things are too good to pass on. “Thanks babe”, You peck her lips before moving to the final mark, her collarbone. “Ohhhh, oppa”, She shivers as your lips touched her skin. Your tongue slowly licked around the bones, sending shivers down her spine. Then your lips created a vacuum like seal before your teeth sinks into her skin. “FUCKKK OPPA, you're gonna make me CUMMM”, Her legs wrapped around your waist as her hand locked your head in, then her orgasm came. 

“OPPAAAA”, You would go deaf if she keeps screaming like that, also her mom probably has figured out what's happening in here. “Oppa, you're such a bully”, Minji panted as her exhaustion starts to show, “Am I? Don't you like being bullied babe?” You kissed her cheek before throwing her off to the bed. “No I'm not”, Yet her squirming legs tells you otherwise. “Sure babe, I trust you”, You laughed and pull down her pants and then yours.

“Fuck me oppa, and stop bullying me”, You laughed and aligned your cock with her entrance, “You're ready?” She nodded furiously. Then you shoved it in, except that it doesn't went in, your cock just slid through her pussy, grinding on the outside. “Oppa”, She let out s frustrated cries, “Oh ooppps, my bad”, Minji frowns harder trying to show she's angry, although you can see she's getting aroused by this. “Should I put it in babe?” You used your cock to rub around her pussy, making her body shakes around. “Yes, oppa please”, She moaned, “Be a good girl and beg for it”, You said.

“Oppa please fuck me, I need your cock, I need your hot load inside me, please split me in two oppa”, Well, she got you there. “Fuck you're so tight babe”, You moaned as you plunge into her. “Fuck, you're just too big oppa”, She moans, her hand grabbed on the sheets as you pound her. “Fuck oppa, harder, fuck me harder and cum inside me, please fill me up oppa”, Her small whimpers are getting more and more desperate as another orgasm is building up inside her. 

Her walls are tightening around you again, milking out the warm milk she's been addicted to. Your hips keeps on crashing on to hers making her body jiggle in every touch. With every thrust your cock is fighting against her inner wall. Every day, slowly but surely you've been reshaping her pussy to be the perfect vessel for your cock. “Fuck oppa, I'm cumming”, Minji moaned, your hand pinched her nipples making her let out a scream of ecstasy, “Take my seed babe”, You groaned as you plunge yourself as deep as possible. The two of you are connected, the waves of pleasure and ecstasy are washing over each other.

As the waves subside, you collapse on to her, not our of fatigue, you just want to press her down on the bed. “Oppa, you feel so warm inside me”, Minji also like it, being pressured like this by you, it's so hot. “I know babe, we should take a shower”, She smiles and kiss you, “Let's go together, the bathroom has better sound insulation, so mom don't need to hear us longer than she needs to”, Well, one round is certainly hasn't been enough for the two of you.

.

.

.

Haewon's voice, normally a sweet melody, turned into a serrated knife scraping against your nerves. "Breaking up? What do you mean breaking up?!" Her anger, raw and palpable, hung heavy in the air, suffocating the sterile atmosphere of her room. You swallowed, forcing a smile filled with deceitful guilt and anxiousness. "Haewon, sweetheart”, You began, choosing your words carefully, "It's not you, it's me." The age-old cliche, twisted to serve your purpose. "These fights, they're tearing us apart. You deserve someone who makes you happy, someone who doesn't…" your voice dipped low, feigning regret, "bring out the worst in you."

Her face, a storm cloud of fury, contorted with disbelief. "The worst in me?" she spat, her voice cracking. "Is that what you're calling it? Me not wanting you to spend every night at the 'office' me questioning your sudden need for 'alone time,' me asking for some semblance of… normalcy?" You shook your head, acting as the sorrowful martyr. "See, that's what I mean. The accusations, the mistrust. It's toxic, Haewon. We're just… incompatible." The lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but you held firm. You had to. This façade, this twisted narrative, was your only escape from her, an escape, to the gilded cage you've prepared for the one true love you have. 

"Incompatible?" she scoffed, a hollow laugh escaping her lips. "We were perfect, remember? You said it yourself, you and I were made for each other. Just a few weeks ago, and now… incompatible?" You sighed, feigning exasperation. "Things change, Haewon. People change. I'm evolving, moving on, and you… you need someone who can handle being left behind." The cruelty of your words, veiled in concern, struck her like a physical blow. You saw it in her eyes, the flicker of pain battling with the rising tide of rage. This, you knew, was your most dangerous gamble. Push her too far, and you risked losing control, your meticulously crafted web unravelling before your eyes.

But the alternative, it's too disastrous, she is an unpredictable variable in your game with Minji. Having her around could be, unwise. You needed to let her go, even if it meant breaking her in the process. "Left behind?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You're the one leaving, the one choosing your ‘internship’ fantasies over me, over… us."

You leaned closer, your voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Haewon, baby”, you murmured, "think of it as… a sacrifice. I'm setting you free from this unhealthy attachment, from a love that was… consuming you." The gaslight, subtle yet potent, began to take hold. You saw the doubt creep into her eyes, the flicker of self-blame replacing the fire of her anger. It was a delicate dance, this manipulation, a waltz on the edge of her emotions.

"Consuming… me?" she echoed, her voice trembling. "Is that what this was? My love for you… toxic?" The final blow. You placed a hand on her cheek, your touch a feather-light caress. "It wasn't healthy, Haewon. We both know that. And sometimes, the greatest act of love is letting go. Do you remember how you were before you met me? A model student, perfect attendance, perfect grade, perfect, everything. When was the last time you got an A in a test? How many class did you attend this last few months?" Her eyes, once pools of adoration, were now glazed with a mix of pain and confusion. You had woven your web, spun your narrative, and she, trapped in the cocoon of your lies, began to believe it.

The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the unspoken consequences of your manipulation. You had won, for now, but the victory tasted like ashes in your mouth. You have to let her go, yes, but at what cost? As you looked at Haewon, her spirit slowly withering under the weight of your deceit, you knew one thing for certain: even if the chain you formed on her neck was opened, the memory you've left in her heart will not go away. An invisible mark to the darkness that danced within you, the darkness, that had corrupted her. 

I never hated you Hae, I always looks up to you. You were such a perfect girl, you just happened to catch my eyes.

You like her, it's just that, she's not Minji. It was her greatest sin, not being the girl you loved. Even the sight of her crumbling down isn't fun to watch. Those perverse thoughts can not manifest in your mind. It was as if Hyde looked at her and just snorted before looking the other way. The only things you feel for her, are compassion, and empathy. “I'm sorry Hae, I really do, but things got complicated at dad's place. I might have to drop out”, A flurry of emotions washes over Haewon, on one hand, she was panicking that the two of you might not meet again. On the other hand, she felt somewhat glad that she can go through her breakup without having to deal with meeting you everyday.

“Hae, I like you okay? I really do, which is why I wanted what's best for you. We both know that we can't deal with distances. If we continue this, things would just crumble even harder. I really hope, and I mean it when I say this, I really hope you didn't see this as me being selfish. Sometimes, people just don't work out. I was, this sounds so cringe, but I was honoured to be your first love. I just wish I would never have to be your first heartbreak”

Such a beautifully crafted poem, sounds so natural too, Haewon really finds that speech to be something you would come up with. “I really didn't expect things to go down this way”, Never in her mind she thinks that you found someone else, you've crafted a perfect image of herself in her mind. “Neither do I, but you know, life”, Her laugh was filled with pain and nostalgia. “Can we still be friends?” Yeah, that could work, a friendly ex is much more manageable than a public girlfriend. “Yeah, sure, why not?” A glimmer of hope blossoms in her heart, but this isn't hope, even though she acknowledged this friendly relationship could turn this break up to be much harder for her, she disregards it. “Then, can we do it one more time? A farewell for our love?”

After calming Haewon down, you promised her that you'll still be friends, before leaving her to own her demise. You decided to go to Minji's place, without changing your clothes. Once you got there, you saw Minji's anger simmered like a neglected pot of tea, the air thick with her unspoken accusations. You stepped through the door, weary from the emotional battlefield you'd just navigated, only to be met with her fiery gaze. "Where were you?" She spat, her voice tight with suspicion. "Hours. Gone. Alone."

You feigned a weary sigh, slumping onto the couch. "Haewon," you mumbled, the name of a bitter pill on your tongue. "She needed me, breakup, you know, messy stuff."

Minji's eyes, normally shimmering with adoration, narrowed to dangerous slits. "I know, but you said it won't take more than an hour”, Thousands of voices start painting a sickening picture in her mind.  "Things changed”, You cut in, your voice clipped, playing the role of the reluctant victim. "She couldn't handle it well. She needed someone to calm her down, someone who…" you trailed off, letting the silence hang heavy, an eerie pause to fuel her insecurities.

The smell, of course, hadn't escaped her scrutiny. The faint sweetness of Haewon's perfume, the musky aroma of a hurried embrace, clung to you like an invisible accusation. Your clothes, rumpled and slightly damp, spoke volumes of the emotional storm you'd weathered. "Liar", she hissed, her voice trembling with a mix of rage and hurt. "You reek of sweat, and her”, she added, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "Whose sweat was it oppa?" She sat on your lap, pressing her body against you.

The question struck you like a drug. The haphazardly constructed lie, your bait against her possessiveness, it was a fuel to the fire. You stammered, acting weirdly, mumbling around some nonsense, letting out some choked words here and there. “It's hot, Minji”, you choked out, the words sounding pathetic even to your own ears. "We… talked, cried, you know how it is”, But Minji wasn't buying it. Her eyes, once pools of molten gold, were now icy daggers, piercing through your facade. You saw the doubt slithering in, a venomous snake coiling around her heart.

"Talked?" She scoffed, a humourless laugh escaping her lips. "For hours? In a sweaty mess, smelling like her cheap perfume? Do you think I'm a gullible idiot oppa?” The heat of her anger was both intoxicating and addicting. You felt the familiar thrill of manipulation rising, the urge to twist the narrative, to turn her insecurities into weapons against herself. A seed of doubt had been planted, a tiny crack in the dam of your lies. "Minji," you began, trying to reach for her hand, but she recoiled like a frightened animal. "It's not what you think. I swear…" Your words hung in the air, unanswered, as the silence between you grew louder than any accusation. You had pushed her, toyed with her insecurities, and now, the monster you'd created stared back at you, its eyes filled with a raw, primal rage.

Minji's touch, once a feather-light caress, became a desperate claw digging into your arm. Her scent, the sweet lavender now laced with the acrid tang of unshed tears, filled your lungs like a storm cloud. The air crackled with unspoken accusations, the silence a gaping maw waiting to swallow you whole. "Promise me," she rasped, her voice raw with a mix of fury and exhaustion. "Promise me it was nothing."

Each word was a jagged shard, slicing through the carefully constructed facade you'd built. Her eyes, once pools of molten gold, were now storm-tossed seas, threatening to drown you in their depths. You tasted the usual cocktail of amusement and control, slowly getting drunk off of her. "Of course, it was just a rough break up for her”, You stammered, showing off a made up guilt to poison her mind further. The puppeteer clinging to his strings, the predator savouring the edge of the precipice.

She leaned in, her face inches from yours, searching for the flicker of truth behind the mask of your devotion. Her breath, hot and ragged, mingled with the cloying sweetness of your lies. "Then tell me," she whispered, her voice a desperate plea. "Tell me everything. Every touch, every word, every stolen glance. Make me see her, make me understand, so I can fill the space she left in your heart"

The challenge, the raw vulnerability in her eyes, ignited a spark of something akin to… respect. This wasn't a pawn anymore, not a puppet dancing to your tune. This was a queen, battered but not broken, demanding answers, reclaiming her throne. You tried your best to hide your smile, suppressing the urge to welcome the new Minji into your world. For the first time, the thrill of manipulation exploded, enthralled by a flicker of…. The final act.

"Minji," you began, your voice rough with a truth you hadn't planned to share. "It… it wasn't much. Just a conversation, a hug, a reminder of what we almost-" But her lips, once a source of endless pleasure, cut you off. A kiss, fierce and desperate, slammed into yours, a drowning man grasping at straws. It was a plea, a demand, a desperate attempt to exorcise the ghost of Haewon from your soul. As you kiss her back the taste of sweet victory is mingling on your lips. Every day you spent with her has ruined her, soon she will be the perfect doll for your puppet show.

She pulled away, her eyes searching yours, not for confirmation, but for a flicker of understanding. A silent plea, not for forgiveness, but for a future where Haewon was a forgotten memory, a footnote in the epic novel of your love.

"Just… promise me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Promise me she's just a whisper in the wind, a memory soon to fade. Promise me she's nothing”, The plea, so naked and desperate, ignited a strange, twisted thrill within you. A beautiful symphony ringing in your ears. “Of course baby, Haewon and me is just an old tale, something you no longer need to care about”, The moment your lips touched her cheeks she felt a suffocating hunger for control. “And the smell", she whispered, her voice barely audible, "It'll vanish, right? It will wash away, alongside all the marks she left you?” The desperate plea in her voice has changed into a stern demand for your obedience.

"My love belongs only to you, Minji”, You purred, your fingers tracing the curve of her jaw, a phantom brand claiming her as yours. "The scent, the touch, they are nothing but a vivid memory, they'll fade away soon enough”, Her thumb gently caressed your cheek as you speak, and the moment you finished your answer it moved to start tracing around your lips. “Then let's have sex”, In a split second you decided that you wanted to plant seeds of doubt in her mind, and having sex would turn that doubt into a confirmation of your affair. “We have to move out tomorrow, let's get some rest for that. Also, dealing with Haewon for the day has drained me, I need some rest”, All the bells are ringing in Minji's mind, those paranoia are tearing her mind apart.

“Okay”, Her voice sounds cold and distant, even her eyes are hollow and emotionless, “Thank you babe, let's get some rest”, Unlike usual she didn't react at all as you kissed her cheek. “Tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that, and so on until forever. You'll only have me right oppa? I'm your one and only?” Her voice almost sounds robotic, cold and stiff, jeez you don't plan to break her down this fast.

Minji's voice, once a melody that wrapped around you like silk, now scraped your nerves like a rusty blade. You leaned in to kiss her cheek, but she remained stiff, a porcelain doll devoid of warmth. "Of course, babe", You murmured, the lie tasting like ashes on your tongue. "Always just you”, Her cold, hollow eyes stared into yours, searching for something you were careful not to reveal. The thrill of manipulation, usually intoxicating, curdled in your gut, replaced by a gnawing unease. You hadn't meant to break her, not this quickly, not to turn her into this emotionless servant. You'd envisioned a slow burn, a gradual descent into obsession, not this robotic devotion devoid of even the embers of anger.

As you crawled into bed, Minji followed, her movements strangely mechanical. She nestled close, her body has become a foreign landscape you barely recognized. You craved the firecracker warmth she used to radiate, the spontaneous touch, the whispered secrets. Now, she was a chilling mirror reflecting the monster you'd created. Sleep eluded you. Minji, despite her stillness, pulsed with an unsettling energy. You felt her gaze burning into you, a dark star charting the map of your body.  Was this part of the new Minji? This cold calculation, this predatory gleam in her eyes? Your twisted amusement had given way to a prickling sensation of uneasiness, a whisper of regret playing on the edge of your mind. Had you unleashed a force you could no longer control? A puppet is only fun to play with they can struggle, when they don't know the strings above them and have the illusion of control. A literal puppet, an inanimate doll that would just follow your every move isn't an enjoyable toy. You want the struggle, the possibility of losing, this Minji, isn't in the form you want her to be in.

Her hand grazed yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you. Before you could react, she sank her teeth into the soft flesh of your shoulder, a hiss escaping her lips. Pain lanced through you, but it was the raw possessiveness in her eyes that truly aroused your reaction. It was a brutal mark, a claim in crimson ink, the first brushstroke on her twisted masterpiece. You felt annoyed by the sheer audacity of it all, should you calm her down? Or just finish her transformation soon? Would finishing it cause her to be even more boring for you?

"Minji," you croaked, the word catching in your throat. "What are you doing?" Her smile, when it came, was devoid of warmth, a predator eyeing its kill. "Marking you, oppa", she whispered, her voice a silken snare. "Making you mine, forever and always. Just you and me, a world with no distractions”, You were caught in a whirlwind of your own making, the thrill of manipulation swirling dangerously close to the edge of terror. You saw the future stretching before you, a path painted in blood and obsession, a cold path with no one else but you and her. 

The crimson mark on your shoulder throbbed, a pulsing reminder of the new Minji, the one you'd sculpted from the ruins of her trust. You weren't scared, not truly. The thrill, the raw audacity of it, was a potent cocktail coursing through your veins. Yet, a shadow of doubt, a flicker of something akin to….. responsibility, perhaps, gnawed at the edges of your amusement. The hunt, oh, the hunt was exquisite. The dance of manipulation, the gradual unravelling of her sanity, that was where the true pleasure lay. Watching her transform into this possessive, cold-blooded creature, a twisted reflection of your own desires, was like watching a masterpiece unfold stroke by agonising stroke.

But the kill, the final act of conquest, held no allure for you. It was the chase, the slow, agonising descent into obsession, that fueled your twisted fire. The kill, the moment of surrender, felt like the closing of a chapter, the end of the game. And you, the puppeteer, craved the endless, exhilarating performance, not the curtain call. Slowing it down, yes, that held promise. Dragging out the game, relishing each twisted step, each mark of her devotion, each whisper of her descent. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, a thrill that was both exhilarating and unsettling.

But there was a risk, a precipice you teetered on. Minji, this new Minji, was a firestorm, a force you'd unleashed and could no longer fully control. Slowing it down meant playing with fire, dancing on the edge of a volcano, and the flames, you knew, could easily consume you both.

The night stretched before you, a canvas painted in shades of crimson and gold. You held Minji close, her cold fire branding your skin, a constant reminder of the power you wielded, the chaos you'd unleashed. This wasn't the ending you'd envisioned, not the final act of your twisted play. This was a new chapter, a thrilling, terrifying improvisation, and the symphony, you knew, would be sung in blood and obsession, a symphony conducted by your own twisted desires. You would slow it down, yes, but not out of fear. You would enjoy the hunt, the exquisite dance of control, and watch, with a predator's glee, as Minji, your creation, your queen, became your most devoted follower.

The silver moon, a tarnished cymbal kissed by rust, clanged discordantly against the silence of the night. Minji, a watercolour portrait smudged by storm clouds, lay beside you, her gaze a piercing brushstroke dissecting the secrets you pretended to conceal. Sleep, a lullaby lost on deaf ears, would not grace her tonight, her heart a frantic drum solo fueled by the cacophony of lies you'd orchestrated. And thus, you played your part. A sigh, a melancholic cello serenade, escaped your lips, laced with the practised vibrato of feigned anguish. "Haewon, no", You whispered, your voice a mournful bassoon lamenting a love you never felt. "Don't take her again."

Each word, a barbed arrow stab in the canvas of Minji’s insecurities, sank deep into her heart, cultivating poisonous vines of doubt. You watched, through narrowed eyes, as the melody of suspicion rose in her, crescendoing into a possessive symphony that almost drowned out the echo of your fabricated despair. It fucking work, Minji was a whirlwind of abstract expressionism, her emotions shifting between obsessive brushstrokes and jealous splatters. Haewon, the spectre you'd conjured in your sleep, became her thematic nemesis, a distorted oil painting dripping with paranoia and misplaced passion. She dissected your every phrase, your every touch, searching for the phantom brushstrokes of this imaginary rival. When she found nothing, the relief in her eyes was a fleeting sunbeam on a rain-slicked canvas, swallowed by the ominous charcoal clouds of disdain that pulsed beneath.

Her charcoal sketches morphed into a nightmarish collage. Haewon, inside Minji's mind, became a grotesque cubist portrait, her features fractured and reassembled into a discordant jumble of envy and rage. You watched, a silent maestro conducting the chaotic orchestra of her descent, as Minji poured her insecurities, her growing madness, onto the canvas, each stroke a dissonant testament to your manipulation. This isn't just control anymore; this is a twisted opera for a broken soul, a crescendo of obsession where Minji, blind to your cruel scherzo, worshipped your fabricated villain. You revelled in the spectacle, the way she clung to your lies, turning Haewon into a monster so she could feel safer, more secure in your fabricated devotion.

Midnight, a velvet curtain, draped the room in hushed expectation. Minji, a tigress coiled and simmering, lay beside you. Her breathing, a low growl, vibrated against your arm, a promise of the storm brewing within. You felt her gaze, a laser beam drilling through the veil of your feigned slumber. She let out a vow to your ‘sleeping’ body a thunderous oath echoing in the darkness, "No one will bother you again," she'd hissed, her devotion, a tangible entity coiled around you. A perverse smile played on your lips, hidden in the shadows. You craved the storm, the tempest of her jealousy fueled devotion. And so, you played your part. A sigh, a whispered secret meant for no ears but hers, drifted from your lips. "Only you, Minji," you murmured, your voice a silken snare laced with feigned passion. "Forever."

The words, a barbed arrow dipped in the twisted concoctions of love, struck their mark. Her breathing hitched, the tigress recoiling in surprise, then settling with a low purr that reverberated through your bones. You felt the anger drain from her, replaced by a fiery possessiveness that licked at your soul. She shifted closer, her body a furnace branding yours. Her touch, once delicate, was now an insistent claim, a possessive map drawn on your skin. You revelled in it, the power she unwittingly surrendered feeding your twisted amusement.

In the ensuing silence, you spun another lie, a cruel melody whispered into the night. "Haewon… no….. more”,you breathed, your voice a mournful cello lamenting a fabricated sorrow. "Only you…… Babe”, The lie, a venomous kiss, landed on the raw wound of her insecurity. You saw the flicker of doubt, the spark of jealousy reignited in her eyes. But this time, it was different. The doubt was a flickering torch, drawing her closer to your darkness, not away. Minji, your tigress, rose from the bed, a predator prowling the room. Her movements were predatory, fueled by the twisted cocktail of love. Her limbs coiled around you, trapping you inside her embrace. “I love you oppa”, The final movement has been averted, replaced by an interlude.

Sunlight crept through the curtains, chasing away the shadows of the night. “Morning oppa”, Minji hasn't slept for a moment, yet her body feels rejuvenated. “Morning babe”, Your hand caressed her back making her purr. “I love you”, Under her bubbly and innocent smile, you can hear her demand for your answer. “I love you too babe, let's get ready for the day”, The answer is correct. Minji, a butterfly reborn, fluttered around the room, her laughter like wind chimes tinkling in the breeze. The storm of the night seemed a distant memory, replaced by a sunny facade that clung to her like a second skin. But you saw it, the glint of the monster you'd sculpted, lurking beneath the bubbly surface. A flicker of a possessive glint in her eyes when she caught you glancing at the phone, a subtle tightening of her grip when you spoke about another woman. The tigress slept, but it dreamt of fire, its claws honed and waiting.

The day stretched before you, a journey marked by boxes and goodbyes. Your parents, a melancholic cello duet, stood in the doorway, their faces etched with bittersweet smiles. “Take care of each other now”, your mother whispered, her voice filled with joy and excitement with her successful plan. You watched Minji's hand steal into yours, a vine coiling around your fingers. A smile, practised and perfect, bloomed on her face. "Don't worry, mom", she chirped, her voice a bright soprano masking the darkness beneath. "Oppa and I will be just fine", Of course, it was also an ultimatum for you, she won't let you mess anything up from now on. "Of course, we will be just fine”, Well, fine is a pretty wide term, but in some way and form, the two of you will be fine. “Don't get pregnant while-”, You dragged Minji out before your dad could finish his sentence. “Oppa, I want to get pregnant”, Minji whispered in your ears, a clear test for your own devotion for her. “I'll get you pregnant, after we got married”, The little monster consumed her eyes, emitting ecstasy and anticipations, “We'll get married soon right?” Her voice was laced with poison. “Soon enough”, And so does yours it seems.

The drive to your new home was a silent opera. Minji, a capricious soprano, chirped about decorating and future plans, her voice a sugary veneer over the churning turmoil within. You watched the scenery blur past, a discordant landscape mirroring the dissonance in your heart. The house, when you finally arrived, stood cold and empty. A blank canvas waiting for the splatters of your twisted masterpiece. Minji, with a childish glee you knew was feigned, skipped through the rooms, claiming them as her own.

“This bed is kinda big oppa, there's plenty of space for us”, Minji really wants to take the main bedroom for the two of you. “Listen, I'm not fucking you on my dad's bed okay?” Just, no, you hate the possibility of imagining your dad while you're rawdogging your girlfriend. “Come on, pleaseeeeee?” However Minji really wants to claim it as a way to show this house belongs to the two of you. “No, I'll ask for a new bed soon, come on let's move to my bedroom”, For now she'll be content with filling your bedroom with new memories of her. 

The moment she got to your bedroom she dived into your bed. Smelling to find any scent of a bitch on it. “Oppa….” She does not like what she finds, “Yeah, I haven't changed my sheet in a while”, You did two-time Haewon and Minji for a week or two after you took Minji's virginity. “You've been sleeping here? With that whore’s cheap perfume staining this place?” You shrugged, letting her let out her anger. “I hate this place”, The walls, the bed, the floor, the sheets, it's all tainted by the touch of a whore. “Ssshhhhh, we can drown out her smell, just you and me. Wouldn't that be fine babe? Erasing her trace with your own?” It is so easy to poke at her weak spot.

“Fine, come here oppa”, Slowly you take off your clothes, making sure to let her suffer through the wait. Minji has already turned fully naked when you only opened your top, which frustrated her. “Oppa, come on, stop teasing me. Don't you want to fill me up again?” She spread her legs as her fingers started playing around with her pussy. The desperate looks she gave you push you to move faster. You get on your knees, enjoying the food that has been presented for you. “You, are so fucking perverted babe”, You kissed her inner thighs making her body shivers, “Oppa, I need you, please”, She let out a desperate plea. “Well, thank you for the food”, Your tongue slowly rubbed her pussy, giving her some surge of arousal.

“Yeah oppa, just like that, do that again”, Minji has slowly become more and more vocal with her moans ever since you told her how much you like hearing her scream. Of course you can't really hear much since your hearing is being hindered by the thighs ear muff wrapping your head. “Fuck oppa, you're gonna make me cum”, Her body jolt out, raising her waist while her leg is cutting the blood circulation to your ear. Grabbing her waist you keep her in place before your tongue starts going ham inside her pussy. “Fuck oppa, that's not fair”, She moans as her hand grabbed your hair. “Fuck, oppa, I'm cumming”, It was a split second after that did you feel the sudden sprays of her juice on your face.

Your head is being squeezed by her thighs, your hair is being torn off by her hand, your face being soaked by her juice. What more could a man ask for? “Oppa, that was incredible”, Finally she let you go, you just let out a sigh before taking her t-shirt and wiped your face with it. “I'm not eating you out ever again”, It's okay, she'll find a way to talk you into it. Oh my, she is growing, into something as scummy as you are.

“Well come on, fuck me oppa”, Despite the state she's in, Minji still fingers herself to prepare her hole for you. “So fucking eager aren't you?” She nodded before turning her back to you, without hesitation you plunged into her making her let out a scream. “So fucking tight too”, Your hand moves by itself and slaps her ass, “Ahhhhhh, oppa”, Her cries of pains made you feel even hornier. “Shut up you”, You slaps her again making her shriek, “You like this don't you slut?” Another slap, this time you felt her walls tightening around you. “No”, Yet the moan doesn't lie to you, “Liar, tell me how much you like it”, Minji is loving it, but she doesn't want to show it to you. 

“I'm not a slut”, You spank her again, “Lies, tell me how much you like this babe”, You leaned down and kissed her back making the playing field less even for her. “No, I hate it”, She moans again, completely failing in convincing you. “Babyyyy”, Your hand reached to her neck, gently wrapping around it. “I don't like liars”, With one rough pull you dragged her up. Now she's standing alongside you, although her leg doesn't really reach the ground. “I'm not lying”, Being grabbed like a useless doll makes Minji feel so aroused. “Is that so?” You bite her ears, you use one hand to hold her by the waist, you open your legs wider so that she can stand on her own two feets.

“I know you're lying, sluts”, You tightened your hand on her neck as you pound her harder. “Aggg, not… lying…” The ecstasy, the feelings of being absolutely used as nothing but a tool for your pleasure, it overwhelmed her. “Say it slut”, Your hand slapped her tits this time making her let out a choked cry. “I’m cumming”, She managed to let out a squeal as her body started to spasm out of control. Yet you didn't stop, you continued strangling her while your waist continued pounding her. The absolute thrill of being degraded like this makes Minji's orgasm last a long time. Long enough by the time she finishes you actually feels yours getting closer.

“Fucking slut”, You throw her to the bed letting her fall limply to it as you grabbed her waist and fuck her harder. “I'm cumming bitch”, Minji was out of it, the oxygen deprivation had sent her mind wandering off somewhere. Of course, the moment your hot load fills her up she immediately gets another orgasm.

Did I pass out? Have oppa been fucking my unconscious body this whole time? That's so hot.

Yeah she's definitely broken, you did this by the way. Soon she will be nothing but a sentient sexbot who only has one variable in her mind, you. “Fuck, Minji are you okay?” Your hand reached out to grab her head, “Hold me oppa”, She whimpered. You jumped on the bed and cuddled her closer to you, “I'm sorry babe”, You laughed as she started crying on your shoulder. “I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you” that's all you hear from her for an hour or so.

As the time passes, you get bored, thinking about what's the next plan, how do you slowly turn Minji into much, well, degenerate. “Oppa, let's go again”, Minji already starts stroking your cock, “Do you want to have a house tour with sex baby?” Why bother asking, just go and spread your mark all over the place.

.

.

.

"Promise me you'll be back by ten”, she rasped, her voice strained with a tremor that tugged at your heartstrings. "Ten, oppa. No later”, You stare at her through the reflection of the mirror as you put on your tie, “Ten? Baby the shows end by 11, and as the leader I need to stay around for some after-party for the band chemistry”, The last month of living together has calm her down a lot, no longer is she a dragon anxious for her treasure trove being stolen, you are the treasure by the way, now more like a needy cat that doesn't want its owner to leave for work. 

The knot in her chest tightened. Minji's pleading eyes, reflected in the mirror like twin pools of worry, chipped away at the carefully constructed nonchalance you wore like a shield. "But it's just a formality, baby” You soothed, forcing a smile to calm her down. "A quick toast, maybe some pictures, and then I'm out of there. Back before you can finish that book you've been reading", The book is about a guide on how to navigate through marriage for a newly wed wife. Your words seemed to hang in the air, caught in the web of her suspicion. Haewon, the phantom you'd conjured, loomed large in the unspoken spaces between you. 

Minji hovered by the window, sunlight glinting off the nervous tears clinging to her eyelashes. You finished tying your boots, the leather laces a stark contrast to the fragile tendrils of doubt she was weaving around you.

"Haewon won't be there", You assured her, your voice firm yet it has no effect on her. "I told you, it's just the band and those basketball kids. Trust me, my spotlight tonight only shines on you”, But her smile, usually as bright as a sunflower, remained wan, painted with the worry of shadows not yet cast. "You promise?" she whispered, her voice a trembling melody in the morning air.

You crossed your heart, the gesture feeling almost sacrilegious in the face of your web of lies. "Promise," you lied, the taste of ash settling on your tongue. "No Haewon, just me and the boys”, Of course Haewon will be there, it will be fun. Unfortunately for you Minji starts to notice the signs of your lies, which means she's still hesitant about your departure. A playful sigh escaped your lips, laced with a touch of deceptions. "Look," you pleaded, turning towards her, "how about a compromise? I'll sneak out as soon as the formalities are done, okay? I'll text you the second I'm in the car, even give you live updates through if you want."

Her expression wavered, a fragile pendulum swinging between doubt and reluctant trust. You knew the fear still lurked beneath the surface, a predator coiled and ready to pounce at the slightest hint of your betrayal. But amidst the tension, you saw a glimmer of the Minji you'd grown to cherish, the girl who believed in your promises, the girl who craved your return, not your confinement. "Fine," she whispered, the word falling from her lips like a reluctant concession. "But no later than half-past eleven. And text me every step of the way, even if it's just a boring picture of your shoes under the table."

A wave of relief washed over you, warm and cleansing. You pulled her into a tight embrace, inhaling the scent of her lavender perfume, letting her imprint her scent on you. "Deal," you murmured, your lips brushing against her temple. "I'll be back soon babe”, You won't.

The ride was quiet for you, yet your phone is bombarded with Minji's text, since she knows the address to the venue you decided to answer her just in case she would come and wreak havoc. “Baby I'm driving right now”, A glint of worry attacked her, “Why did you call me then?” Minji hurriedly closes the call and sends a long text telling you why texting while driving is dangerous and other stuff. You only read her text once you arrived at the venue, “Why does her book have a chapter about drunk driving?” The book was supposed to be for a newlywed wife right?

“Well, well, well, look who decides to show up”, Bae said, drilling her gaze into your eyes, “Bae”, Haewon grabbed her hand trying to calm her down. “Evening Bae, as pleasant as always”, You ignored the two of them and went to find Jin. “You can't just keep running to me to escape Haewon”, You can and you will continue doing this, “I'm running for her own sake”, How noble of you. “Yeah whatever, what's up?” You look around to see that everyone is fully ready for the performance, “Is there any plans for after the performance?” It would be nice if there is, after all things has been going too well for you and Minji. “Drinks? Karaoke? Dinner? Whatever you want dude”, Come on now you're the shot caller for your band of misfits. “Karaoke fuck it?” Doing karaoke after a straining performance will be very tiring even for you, of course it was the best option to wreck Minji's heart.

“You're the boss”, It's nice that Jin reminds you of that from time to time, or was it a complaint for your lack of responsibility? “Alright boys, gather up, briefing time”, Ah, you get his hint. A quick briefing for the performance, rundown on the songs you've prepared and of course a little soundcheck. Throughout all this you managed to sent some text to Minji just to update her. These text is the only thing that's keeping her sane throughout the hours. She can't even focus on anything else but your text, trying to analyse every pixel for any detail you might try to hide.

Who is that girl oppa?

You?

What? The girl in the room with you. That's a girl's leg on the top left corner.

That's Bae, one of the boy's girlfriends. You want to meet her?

Why is she there?

To meet her boyfriend?

Stop answering with questions. You said there will only be your ‘boys’, or is she on of the ‘boys’ as well?

It's 2023 babe, we need to be inclusive, boys, bros, it's all universal term.

Your text certainly doesn't help, Minji's hand was gripping the phone so hard it could've broken. “Who is that bitch”, A low whisper more akin to a growl came out of her. 

STOP EVADING THE QUESTIONS

Yeah okay, there's a few girls here, they're my boys’ girlfriends.

YOU SAID THERE WILL ONLY BE THE BOYS

IT'S ZE BOYS, but yeah they are bringing their girlfriend. It's okay babe, they won't even bat an eye on me.

If you come back.

With their scent on you.

I won't let you leave the house again.

Okay, I need to do some soundcheck, I'll text you before the performance.

Minji gnawed on her thumbnail, the bitter taste of nail polish mingling with the sour cocktail of worry churning in her stomach. Your band's music pulsed through the apartment walls, a distant but tantalising echo of the world you were currently inhabiting. She tried to focus on the self-help book titled "Newlywed Wife's Guide for Marriage," the words blurring before her eyes. Each sentence about "trusting your spouse" and "maintaining healthy communication" felt like a hollow balm on her burning anxieties.

The image, the one you'd sent from the venue, had burrowed into her mind like a malevolent worm. It wasn't even the girl's face, just a glimpse of legs beneath a short skirt, a flash of tanned skin that, to Minji's twisted perspective, screamed calculated seduction. While you basked in the spotlight, she wrestled with the phantom threat of another woman stealing your gaze, your touch, your entire universe.

The book, supposed armour against these insecurities, offered nothing but platitudes. "Accept your husband will be flirted with," it droned, "but trust his commitment." Trust? How could she, when every laugh shared on stage, every casual brush with a friend, felt like a tiny betrayal chipping away at their fledgling relationship? Frustration, acrid and bitter, welled up inside her. She slammed the book shut, its pronouncements useless in the face of her torment. Outside, city lights winked like mocking eyes, each twinkle a stark reminder of the gulf between her and you.

The stage pulsed with energy, sweat and amplified riffs painting a portrait of your adrenaline-fueled world. Your voice soared, carrying the melody of the band's hard work for the last few months. Amidst the cheers and ambiance lights, a phantom audience of one haunted your every note. Minji. Back in your apartment, she continues biting on her nails, a habit she has developed from dealing with you. Each text message, a bland chronicle of "soundcheck done”, "opening act killed it”, felt like a brushstroke obscuring a hidden canvas. No mention of the ‘girlfriend’ , no picture of the whore’s leg. The silence, louder than any roar, amplified her anxieties.

You'd promised the picture wouldn't come, and yet, the absence felt like a deliberate omission, a carefully crafted lie. The silence between your texts, once filled with the comforting buzz of the concert, became an abyss of doubt. Minji slammed the phone on the bed, the screen's blue light leaving ghostly afterimages on her tear-filled eyes.

She tried to focus on the book, the "Newlywed Wife's Guide," but its platitudes about communication and trust felt like hollow echoes in the face of her mounting suspicions. You, her rockstar, her sunshine, were now a phantom figure dancing in the shadows, your every move shrouded in a veil of deceit. The book is mocking her with its empty promises of trust and communication. Trust? How could she, when every update felt sanitised, every emoji a carefully chosen mask? Finally, unable to bear the torment any longer, she typed out a message, her fingers trembling making her have to retype the whole message a couple of time. "When are you coming home?" the words screamed, a desperate plea for a shred of truth in the labyrinth of your lies.

I'm chilling until the closing for now.

The response was read almost immediately.

Karaoke????

You said it will be dinner

It came back, the question mark a venomous punctuation mark. You smiled, picturing her curled up on the couch, the book abandoned on the floor, her mind spinning with suspicion. You knew the image too well, the monster you'd created reflected in her haunted eyes.

There was a change of plans

I'll just drink a little and sing a song or two and I'll be right with you.

She read it, but she didn't respond at all. This radio silence caused some uneasy feeling inside you, so you left the bathroom and called her up. The call was answered instantly.

“Hey babe”

“Why are you going to a karaoke oppa? Please just come back home”

She's crying.

“Baby don't cry, it's just an hour at most”

“Oppa, please, I need you”

She's crying, hysterically.

“Baby, I promise, after this I won't leave your side for a week”

“You're not leaving my side for a week regardless”

Good point, how do you counter this.

“A month, I'll take you out to my internship”

“Baby, please, just come home. I miss you already”

Her heart wrenching wails can be heard echoing around your bedroom.

“Baby, why are you like this? Please it's just a karaoke, nothing is gonna happen”

“Babe, I miss you”

The pain whimpering she let out made you realise, if you push it harder she will do something stupid.

“Okay, I'll see what I can do okay?”

Have you gone too soft?

“Hey, are you still busy with your ‘internship’?” Haewon’s voice can be heard followed by the knocking on the door. “Who's that?” Minji roared, “I'll be back soon, and stop following me weirdo”, Right, let's feed Minji's insecurities of finding you getting flirted on. “I can't believe I dated you”, This time Haewon's voice is lower and you're not really sure that it can be heard through the phone. “Oppa, please, come home now”, Minji pleaded, it's all just too much for her.  “Baby, once the performance end I'll come home okay? There's only half an hour left”, That's like 30 minutes too long for Minji. “Oppa, please, come home”, She sounds so pathetic already, “I'll be back soon babe, I love you”, She didn't answer with words as the only thing you can hear is her sobbing. You stay in line for a minute or so, then you hang up, making her cries even harder.

As you get out of the bedroom you find Haewon just standing there in the hallway. “Evening, Hae, anything I can help you with?” Her eyes narrowed, then she strides over to you and grabs your collar before pulling you down. “I know that internship is just a fucking lie”, Well, it seems things are getting annoying now. You frown and tilted your head as if you're not getting what she means by that. Haewon's eyes, once smouldering embers of adoration, now crackled with the fierce heat of suspicion. Her accusation hung in the air, a tangible thing you could almost hear "Don't play dumb with me, Oppa", coming out of her mouth. Yet her lips stay still, she knows that you're getting her message.

The urge to scoff, to dismiss her claims with a smirk and a well-placed lie, warred with a prickling sensation at the back of your neck. Her sudden awareness, like a rogue vine twisting towards your carefully cultivated garden of deception, was starting to annoy you more than frighten you. "Hae," you began, playing the clueless card like a well-worn suit, "you're scaring me. Really. What on earth are you talking about?" Your voice, a touch too high, a shade too rehearsed, was met with a sardonic smile that sliced through your feigned innocence. "Oh, spare me the ignorant act”, she spat, her voice laced with the bitterness of betrayal. "The internship, the space – everyone knows it's a charade. And I know more than just that."

Her words, each one a subtle jab, prodded at the carefully constructed walls you'd erected around your secret life. Haewon, once a pliable puppet in your game, was now a tigress clawing her way out of the cage. Your puppets, it seemed, were becoming a touch too sentient for your liking. "Hae, come on," you sighed, spreading your hands in a gesture of mock bewilderment. "Fantasies? Look, if you think there's someone else… well, that's your prerogative. But don't drag me into your suspicions."

Haewon's eyes narrowed, scepticism dancing in their depths. Her hand reached behind your head and pulled it into her neck, you can feel her breath tickling your ears, just like old times. "Fantasies, you say? I know your secrets better than you think, Oppa. And let me tell you, I'm not going down like this. Whoever that bitch is, I'll find her. Also, you might be a father soon, so don't run too far, daddy~”, Then she let go, and before you can get a glimpse of her face she already turned around.

Haewon's footsteps, once sharp staccato, faded into the distant hum of the city like a final, angry cymbal crash. You didn't chase her, nor did fear twist your gut. This, you realized with a chilling thrill, was the finale, the crescendo of your intricately orchestrated chaos. Silence, filled with anticipation, settled on the stage. The piano, normally your bandmate's playful confidante, now hummed a melancholic blues, each note heavy with the weight of revelation. The drums, a once-joyful pulse, echoed like distant thunder, a rumbling premonition of the storm you'd unleashed.

And then, Minji's imagined cries, not screams of accusation, but soft, wounded whimpers, joined the symphony. They twined around the piano's melody, a mournful oboe solo weaving through the discordant tapestry of your unraveling masterpiece. This wasn't fear, this morbidly exhilarating waltz of consequences. No, this was the conductor relishing the final flourish, the maestro gazing upon the wreckage of his deliberate chaos with a cold, artistic detachment. Haewon, the scorned tigress, had merely been the catalyst, the final push needed to send your marionette strings flying, the puppets tumbling into their inevitable fall. Her sudden sentience and defiant is only a step back to your plans for Minji's transformation.

You pictured Minji, eyes red-rimmed, tears tracing silent melodies down her cheeks. The sight, far from being a gut punch, fueled the perverse fire within you. Her pain, you imagined, was another instrument in your twisted orchestra, a mournful cello adding depth and despair to the symphony of your destruction. The crowd, their chatter a distant, muffled chorus, became the audience to your private tragedy. Their oblivious enjoyment of the band's now-sombre performance merely emphasized the irony, the cruel disconnect between the staged entertainment and the real-life drama unfolding in the wings.

You closed your eyes, the music swirling within you, a dark, intoxicating vortex. And in that swirling chaos, you saw not the wreckage, but the possibilities. This wasn't a failed performance, it was a liberation, a shedding of the puppeteer's mask, a descent into the raw, unchained melody of your true self. A sick and twisted smile starts to form on your face, filled with anticipation, ecstasy and most importantly, sadistic perversion.

No longer would you play by society's rules, dance to the rhythms of expected outcomes. This was your symphony, discordant and raw, yours to conduct until the final note, the bitter aftertaste of chaos clinging to your lips like a final, triumphant encore. As the jazz band, oblivious to the storm they'd unwittingly orchestrated, ended their set with a soft, resigned coda, you stepped back into the shadows. The curtain hadn't fallen, not yet. This was merely the intermission, the pause before the final movement of the song, the grand finale where the puppeteer became the protagonist, the villain, the tragic hero of his own twisted, beautiful symphony.

AN: I really wanted to wrap things out in this chapter but my hand just start writing and I lost control. Anyway, second chapter out of three, the third one might take a while since i have some plans for new years. Till then, cheers

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Hi there 🤗

I absolutely love your writings!

I was wondering if you could write a 2003 Leo nsfw, please 👉👈

Maybe something a little angsty? Like, after he got injured and his personality became more broody, angry, serious? He still loves the reader, but he doesn't express it as much, and he's more rough in bed, whereas before his injury, he was sweeter?

Thank you for considering this idea 🫣

After The Injury (Angst) (18+)

2003!Leonardo x reader

A/N: I do have a thing for moody Leo, so of course I will write something for him! Angst? Hell yeah! Let’s go angst on this one! Hope you enjoy💙😊

All  characters are aged up.

Warnings: Mentioning of stabbing, good relationship taking a wrong turn, rough sex, mentioning of squirting.

The injury had changed Leo. It was clear for everyone to see. Not only did he have a giant chip on his shell, left after Karai had stabbed him, but his eyes. They were bitter, smaller than usual, often directed towards the ground. Unless someone spoke to him. Then he would look up at them, anger stroming in his eyes. It was kind of scary to look at… You had never been scared of your boyfriend, but after his youngest brother once flinched at his stare, you were starting to get worried.

It was obvious to Leo’s friends and family that he wasn’t doing too good. Normally he was never this angry or filled with this much resentment, but now he was a ticking time bomb, lashing out at people whenever they started to push him just a little. And just because you were his partner, it didn’t mean you wouldn’t get to see or feel just how much Leo had changed.

Leo used to be soft and loving towards you, making sure that you always felt provided and comforted for. He would spend many hours just holding your hand and holding you close, murmuring sweet nothings into your ear. Sex with him used to be just as sweet and passionate, with long deep stares into each other’s eyes. Leo tended to be a dominant time, but he used to be loving at that. But after Leo’s injury, that changed as well.

During his healing periode, Leo didn’t want to talk to anyone, not even you. He stayed alone, staring out into the blue, deep in thoughts that just kept going deeper and deeper and getting darker and darker. He wouldn’t hold your hand or hold you close anymore, and along with that disappeared the sweet nothings he would whisper to you. It made you sad. It disheartened you. But sadly, it wasn’t the only thing between you that changed.

Misunderstandings was many between you and Leo now. Your communication was having a hard time, and you found it challenging to express your emotions to Leo now. Such a far cry from how it used to be between the two of you… But if there was one thing between you and Leo that had drastically changed, it was your sex life.

Leo used to be so patient with you, but now he was sudden and harsh. He no longer just hinted with soft kisses or touches that he was in the mood, no, now he would make demands. And you, having a harder and harder time initiating intimacy between the two of you, would be ready whenever he told you to drop your clothes. You used to have sex pretty much every other day to every other week, which left you needy and somewhat desperate. No way you were going to say no to him when he finally was in the mood…

Sex with Leo had gotten from passionate with a little rough edge, to straight up rough. Sometimes sexy rough and other times just rough, like he was letting his animalistic side fully take over him. You used to have toys involved - robes, handcuffs, vibrators, just to make things more spicy. But those were gone now. You had gotten from face to face most of the time, to Leo pushing your face into a pillow, lifting your ass high up in the air, before going to town on you, pounding you into a moan and screaming mess.

You had never experienced Leo being so rough with you. You had never had him make you scream into a pillow, not caring if any of his family members were able to hear you. On one side, you were frightened by this. This was not the Leonardo you were used to. But on the other side, you had never tried cumming so hard in your life. Sex with Leo had never been bad, but this was surely something new. And as much as Leo’s new rough nature frightened you, you couldn’t deny that this new side of him had made you squirt all over him and his member once.

You would lie if you said you didn’t like the harder spanking and the tougher hair pulling, or how his hand had gotten tighter around your neck than what it used to. And you would definitely lie, if you said you didn’t like how Leo seemed to have gotten much more vocal. You missed the usually dirty talk, but the louder groans and moans hand your head spinning, making your clench around him even harder.

But no matter how much you loved parts of Leo’s new rougher side, there was one thing you missed - the aftercare. Leo used to be so thoughtful during aftercare, kissing all parts of your body that might be hurting, in case he went just a little too hard on you, cleaning you up if needed, before holding you close so that the two of you could fall asleep together. However Leo didn’t do that anymore.

It was like clockwork every time. Leo would pull out of you after he had emptied himself inside of you, leaving you still shaking after your orgasm. You would feel the mix of you and him drip down your leg, while he would shuffle off of you. He wouldn’t say a word. Instead he would adjust himself, sliding his member back into his cloaca, maybe even throw you a towel if one was nearby. But other than that he would just lay down, mumble a goodnight to you, before turning over on his side, facing away from you, falling asleep not too long after. To you, that was probably one of the worst parts of Leo’s injury. He couldn’t speak to you anymore, and he was rarely able to show you the love he used to. At times it even made you wonder if it was worth continuing with him like this. But you never did anything about it. Instead you would turn onto your side, you back facing his shell, hoping that tomorrow would be different from today.

[lemurzsquad]

Hand Sanitizer

Pairing: Sakusa x gn!reader (platonic or romantic, up to interpretation)

Summary: You and Sakusa hate each other with a passion, and it's almost always a disagreement over hand sanitizer. So when you leave to wash your hands and don't come back, Sakusa learns why exactly you avoid using it so adamantly.

A/N: Okay so this fic. Hooooo boy. This fic. I've been wanting to write it for a while and finally have. It started as a "Reasons why I'm pretty sure Sakusa would hate me irl" and turned into this.

So I have a skin condition known as aquagenic wrinkling of the palms (or AWP), which affects my hands when they come in contact with water, which is what this fic is about. I never hear about this condition anywhere, and it's very lonely sometimes, and there's no real treatment for it (from what I've seen). So this is essentially a vent where I take my skin condition seriously for once instead of just making water allergy jokes to cope lol

(More info about AWP here)

Word count: 3898

cw: skin condition (non-graphic descriptions and discussion) (AWP - please read above), hurt/comfort, angst, crying, enemies to friends...?, emotionally constipated apologies from Sakusa, hand sanitizer is evil /j, vent, not proofread because I just wanted to get this done and posted to do literally anything else, (please lmk if I should tag anything else)

(Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, and everything written here is purely from my own experiences and observations. If you would like to learn more, please do your own research; this is not designed to be informative. It's purely for myself and for awareness.)

You and Sakusa had never gotten along.

You were certain you knew when it started, having been completely oblivious of one another up until that point.

It was when you were both first years in high school, and there happened to be a lizard in the classroom. You, upon seeing it, immediately proceeded to pick it up and ask the teacher to let you put it outside, to which they agreed.

You came back to the classroom, dusting off your hands, when a curly-haired boy took it upon himself to comment, “Go use some hand sanitizer, would you?”

You squinted at him, partly confused as to why he was talking to you and how you had never noticed he sat there before. “No thanks,” you answered, “I'd rather just wash my hands.”

“I don't think just washing your hands would be enough,” he rebutted with a sharp look behind his bangs. “You probably don't even know how to properly wash your hands.”

“Well, too bad! I'm not using hand sanitizer!” You were starting to get annoyed, crossing your arms.

Somehow, that seemed to make him even more disgusted, possibly at the thought that you were spreading whatever it was on your hands onto your clothes now, too.

The two of you threw jabs back and forth until the teacher separated you, which you were both happy to oblige. The animosity between you never seemed to quite dissipate even as the year went on and you became second years. You almost felt bad for the misunderstanding, knowing it was entirely your own fault, but how were you supposed to explain to this random kid that you couldn't use hand sanitizer even if you wanted to? At least, in your head you couldn't.

At some point, you and Sakusa became something of enemies within your class—renowned ones, at that. People would often ask the both of you why you hated each other so much, but your answers were vague at best.

“He's just so pretentious,” you said once.

“They're just so obstinate,” he said once.

And thus, an impasse stretched between you. You hadn't even learned his name until months after your first encounter, too bitter to really care.

Despite the efforts you both went through to avoid being within the presence of the other, you somehow still ended up nearby. Maybe it was your teachers attempting to make you get along—maybe it was the universe laughing in your face.

Throughout that entire time, you still faithfully avoided hand sanitizer like the plague. The one time the nearest bathroom was out of order for a little while and you couldn't wash your hands, you used as little of the accursed substance as you could. Whatever microscopically thin layer that coated your hands there was, you shook it off almost violently, simultaneously disgusted by the feeling of something on your skin and afraid of what it might do.

The disapproving look Sakusa gave you when he saw that was palpable.

At some point, you hated each other mostly out of principle. You'd both kept it up this long—it would be weird to suddenly just let it go since your flimsy justifications seemed enough until now. To admit that you were being unreasonable would be worse than getting along, you separately reasoned.

So when you were paired up for a project, you couldn't help but grimace. Sakusa was the first to go up to the teacher about it.

“I can't work with them,” you heard him say. For once, you agreed with him.

The teacher, however, dismissed his concerns with a wave, saying, “In life, you don't get to pick who you work with. Sometimes you'll have to try to put aside your differences to get your work done.”

It sounded stupid to you, like some half-hearted excuse so they wouldn't have to rearrange seating or partners. But it's not like you had any place to argue, so you resigned to just sucking it up.

Instead of working together, you both divvied up tasks as quickly as possible and did what you assigned yourselves—separately.

All was going well; you ignored each other and worked on the project silently. Despite other groups discussing their plans and the room being filled with chatter, your share corner was dead silent save the sound of pen on paper.

Which didn't last long when suddenly the tip of your pen snapped off. The now open ink tube spilled onto your hands, and when you tried to minimize the damage, it only got worse. By the time you dropped the pen onto your open notebook, raising your hands in surrender, they were absolutely coated in black splotches. A sense of defeat washed over you as you watched your words get covered and your paper stained in ebony.

Taking a moment to glance at your already ruined hands, you just resigned to picking up the pen and throwing it out. It was your favorite pen, which was unfortunate. It couldn't be helped, you told yourself.

Sakusa had noticed you flailing about your desk, silently judging you for the clumsy mess you made when you should have just thrown out the pen the second it broke to avoid the noir crime scene that now covered you and your area. He scowled knowing you would now have to redo whatever you had written for the project.

It was nearing the end of school, the class you were currently in being the final one of the day. You approached the teacher's table and asked if you could go wash your hands. They checked the clock to see about twenty minutes left before replying, “Make it quick.”

You walked past Sakusa's desk on your way to the door. He made the snide remark, “You could get the ink off really well with hand sanitizer.”

It took everything in you not to snap back at him, but you just hurried past, careful not to touch anything on the way out.

Sakusa knew he would never understand you. From the moment you met, you stubbornly refused what seemed to be basic courses of action. Touch something dirty? Use hand sanitizer. Eating? Wash your hands before and after to keep from touching anything.

The couple of times he had seen you wash your hands, it was very brief, and you seemed to avoid using the air dryer, opting for paper towels that were arguably undoing whatever progress you made in washing your hands.

At the same time, you avoided any task that would require you to touch dust or water. You always asked to sweep or clean windows, so much so that everyone just ended up giving you those tasks to get you to stop asking. If you did get something on your hands, you immediately wiped or shook it off, seemingly disgusted. You would even briefly run it under water just to dry it on your clothes so they weren't wet. It seemed there were things worse than water if you were willing to rinse them off.

But it was still that one avoidance that came between you: the hand sanitizer. It was practically the same as water, and it dried quickly. Even if it was comparable to washing your hands, it was still much more convenient in most scenarios. Yet you continued to adamantly refuse to ever use it. At some point you declared, “I would rather die,” when he had tried to squeeze some on your hand, earning him his wrist grabbed and pushed away. 

He just didn't understand.

So when he found you sobbing in front of the stairs, opening your hands and clenching them closed into loose fists repeatedly, he was beyond confused.

You hadn't come back to class after leaving to wash the remnants of your broken pen, so the teacher decided it was your project partner, Sakusa, who should find you and return the belongings you left behind. He went over to your open notebook that remained just where you left it and noted the handful of words that were still visible. 

Sakusa folded the cover over, enclosing the now dried puddle of ink. The remainder of your things he scooped into his arms, leaving the room once the halls had cleared a significant amount. As much as he wanted to just leave your things and go to volleyball practice, he figured it would end poorly.

Plus, what could possibly have kept you out of class for so long that you would have left everything behind? There was no way it had taken that long to get most of the ink off of your skin, so either you had just skipped the last bit of school or something happened. Since you hadn't taken your wallet with you with your IDs (he checked your bag when he put the notebook back inside, sure that it was completely dry), he reasoned it was probably the latter.

“Tsk.” They would have been able to get it off with hand sanitizer, he thought, brows furrowed. This is such a waste of time.

Sakusa wandered through the halls when he didn't find you by the bathrooms. He was starting to think it was a lost cause trying to return your bag; he even had to text his cousin to tell him why he would be late. It wasn't until he got to a particularly empty hallway did he hear something.

Quietly, in a dark alcove with a set of stairs leading up, a figure was huddled against a wall. Their tears were soft but anguished, stifled because it was in the environment of school. Sakusa had tried to ignore them until he realized it was you.

You held your palms up just past your knees that were pressed against your chest. You opened and closed your hands, a fresh cascade of tears painting your cheeks as you choked back a sob. You pressed—with more pressure than could have been painful—your thumb into the center of your other palm, nails digging into the back of your hand. You set your closed eyes on your knees with the hope that it might stop the water that leaked from them.

Sakusa, with great caution, approached your hunched figure. He didn't want to, he really didn't. You were the person he probably hated the most at his school, but somehow he knew he'd seem like an awful person if he didn't at least give your belongings to you directly—he wouldn't give you the satisfaction of another thing to hold over his head.

And yet those thoughts went to the back of his mind when he crouched down in front of you. His mask and curly hair obscured his focused expression as he tried to study your current state. The moment you seemed to hear him there, you held your breath and repressed your already quiet cries.

When Sakusa got close, you buried yourself further in to hide your face behind your knees and clenched your hands even more.

He frowned and something in his chest tightened. His brows furrowed deeper over his eyes and he huffed. He saw your nails digging into the skin on the backs of your hands.

“That's going to leave a mark if you keep doing that.” It came out more biting than he had meant it, but he was being serious.

It was then that you could no longer hold back your sobs, almost choking on your own tears. The grip you had of your hands softened and unlinked; instead, you lightly shook them apart from each other. Sakusa had to take a moment to process, but it almost seemed like there was something wrong with them. 

He just wanted to get you to stop crying so he could give you your bag. As much as he hated the gesture, he asked, “What's wrong with your hands?”

You curled your lips in to bite down on them, fighting back hiccups. With your eyes tightly screwed shut, you upturned your palms.

The sight alone made Sakusa's eyebrows fly up in shock. 

He didn't mean to, but he grabbed your wrist to get a better look. Ignoring the ink stains that faintly persisted, there were pale, patchy splotches in the center of your palm and on the side edges of your fingers; there were even some tiny pale rings on the periphery of the bigger splotches. But underneath that, the skin seemed as if it had soaked in water for hours or maybe even days. Not only were there dozens of deep crevice lines trailing from the tips of all of your fingers to their bases but the lines on your palms were more prominent, surrounded by profound, dense wrinkles that spanned the entire surface.

His eyes darted around your hand for a few moments just trying to comprehend what he was looking at. It looked unnatural—it looked painful. And when he met your gaze, he saw unidentifiable emotions flash across it. Was it shame? Regret? He couldn't be sure aside from the blood that seemed to drain from your face.

You tried to pull your hand away, but Sakusa wouldn't let go. His eyes never left yours, searching for some kind of answer. When he couldn't find it there, he asked, “What happened?” It was soft, calm, and even, enough to make you tear up a little again.

The second time you tugged, he released your wrist. You pushed your thumb into your palm again, looking away. Hiding your hands away in the space between your stomach and where your legs were still tucked against your torso, you sniffled a few times and tried to even out your breathing.

“I-It's normal… it just h-happens when I-I touch water…” You stuttered and mumbled between hiccups.

“That is not normal,” Sakusa said a little too quickly and curtly, realizing it probably would have made it seem like he was berating you.

With another sniffle, you said, “It's a– it's a skin condition.” You started to scratch your palms partly out of stress and partly out of the persistent stinging. “It reacts to water i-if I touch it for too long.”

His eyebrows knitted in concern. “Was that from washing your hands then?”

You gave a small nod, still avoiding his gaze. “I couldn't get the ink off and ended up w-washing them for too long…”

“You could have just used hand sanitizer,” he said genuinely. For the moment, he almost forgot he was supposed to hate you, more focused on being worried than anything.

Your answer was your head shaking rather fervently. “No, I can't.” You lowered to set your forehead against your knees again. “Well, actually, I don't know. I-It just scares me and I don't want to r-risk any more pain than I already have. I haven't h-had good experiences with it…”

“What did hand sanitizer ever do to you?” It came out snarkier than Sakusa had meant. He slowly lowered himself to sit with his legs crossed in front of you, your bag still next to him.

You let out a heavy breath. “I was a dumb kid in elementary,” you started. “I had an obsession with scented hand sanitizer for probably a few months. I used it multiple times a day, and even though I don't know for sure if it's related, my hands got worse after that year I think. Only after that did I finally go to the doctor to get it diagnosed after my mom did a ton of research. I agreed to avoid hand sanitizer from then on. I just don't want to risk being in more pain…”

You both went silent.

“Oh…” It was all that left Sakusa's lips. A sudden wave of guilt crashed into him. All of the times he had berated you for not using hand sanitizer and all of his snide, rude, annoyed remarks resurfaced in his conscience. He felt terrible. He felt bad. Someone was hurting and all he did was throw lighter fluid on their problems—for months—and it seemed there was finally a spark to set it all ablaze. The thought that he started it all made it worse.

“Stop with whatever weird look you have on your face.” You squinted at him and his downturned, scrunched face. You'd calmed down enough to be making quips, it would appear. “It's not like I can do anything about it.” You shrugged, half-hearted.

He searched your face again for any sign of emotion aside from blank resignation, but he couldn't find anything. “Is there no treatment?”

You shrunk down further into your huddle, not vocally answering, but the answer was still clear.

Something about the whole situation made his heart hurt; it made him upset, he realized. “So what, you just have to avoid water?”

The nod of your head to the side looked pathetic as you avoided his eyes. After several seconds of silence, you said, “I used to love swimming. It's not like I can't, it's just… it hurts and it makes me feel gross. I don't even like the beach anymore because if I go in the water and get my hands wet, there's no real place to dry them off.” You laughed humorlessly. “It's stupid. You'd think I would get more used to it and get over it as I got older, but it just made me more upset. Why me? Why did I have to get stuck with a condition that's rare and isn't really bad enough for people to care enough to find a treatment? At least, it feels that way…

“I know it's awful, but I sometimes wonder, ‘Why didn't I get stuck with something worse? Then I might have a way to treat it. Then people might care.’”

You glanced up to judge Sakusa's reaction, instantly regretting spilling your feelings and questioning why you did. Tears threatened to flood over again and spill from your eyes. You felt helpless; not only from your condition but also from being stared down by the person you were certain despised you more than anyone. You were giving him more ammo to be disgusted and to detest you, too.

But you couldn't find his face. His ebony bangs hung down like a curtain and his mask further obscured your view, his downturned line of sight completely blocked out.

When the silence was beginning to crawl around on your skin and became almost deafening, you took in a sharp breath and held it for a moment before breathing out a tiny apology. “Sorry… you don't wanna hear about this…”

“No.”

“...No? No… what?”

“No…” 

Sakusa was struggling to get out the right words. How does he say sorry to you in a way that you might actually believe? How does he tell you that you're allowed to be upset, that you can talk about it? How does he make you understand that it's okay?

And how is he supposed to get you to believe it when it's coming from him?

His voice sounded almost angry but not at you—it was for you. “You can be upset,” he said between gritted teeth, hands clenched into tight fists. “No one deserves to have to live everyday avoiding something so common just to not be in pain. And no one deserves to have some jerk constantly making light of it even if they don't know.”

The way your eyes widened and water dripped down your cheeks in sudden streams said it all. “Oh…” was all you could muster before you completely broke down. No one you had ever told about your condition had seemed to fully grasp how much you were hurting inside, how every day was a struggle to avoid reminding yourself of how awful your hands were, how even looking at your own hands sometimes made you ashamed and loathing of yourself. It was a constant reminder that there would always be something wrong with you; you would always be broken, and there was no way to fix it.

Sakusa let you cry with the renewed emotional rush. He remained firmly planted where he sat, not moving an inch. He was not going anywhere.

And he didn't, even as your sobbing slowed to quiet sniffles and wiping mostly dried tears. It took a while before you finally muttered, “Thank you… No one's ever said that to me before…”

“Well, they should.” His words were curt but lacked any sharpness to them.

When you looked up to meet his eyes, he turned them away from you. Hesitantly, he uttered, “Look, I can't promise you that we'll get along, but I can assure you I'll try not to bother you anymore. No more stupid hand sanitizer comments anymore, either.” It was the only peace offering he could make for a chance to pave a path towards making amends.

You let out a breath through your nose that was close to a laugh before hiccuping, “Next thing you know, you'll be telling me we'll work on our group project together.”

“Don't push it,” he answered, quickly and humorlessly. It only made you laugh, although he couldn't comprehend why.

“It's getting late,” Sakusa tried to divert. “You should head home.”

You reached for your phone, and the little numbers on the screen confirmed his statement. Suddenly, a flash of panic crossed your face. “I don't have my bag,” you state frantically, “or any of my stuff.”

It was then that Sakusa held up the original object of his search for you, gently lowering it to the ground. “The teacher told me to bring it to you since you never came back.”

Relief washed over you in a calming rush, and you finally seemed to relax. You pulled your knees away from your chest and sat with your legs crossed. Confirming that everything was in your bag, an immensely relieved sigh left your lips in a gust.

“Thank you.” Your gaze was earnest, trying to convey just how much you meant your words to make sure it sunk in.

Sakusa just grumbled, “Whatever.” He was back to his usual self despite how he stumbled embarrassingly when he got up and realized his legs had gone numb. He reluctantly offered up his hand to help you stand, but you only looked at it for a moment, mouth pressed into a line, before you got to your feet on your own.

He pretended he hadn't tried to assist you, instead pivoting on his heels and shoving his hands in his pockets with a slouched posture. Without another word exchanged, you both headed towards the school's entrance.

The air fell into a comfortable quiet until then. When you did reach the entrance, however, you both stopped in your tracks. You turned to Sakusa, giving him a soft smile and a small wave, and headed down the street. Only when you turned the corner, out of sight, did he head back towards the volleyball gym. He was so horribly beyond late that it was almost laughable.

But he didn't care, knowing it meant someone was there in that very moment for you when you needed it most. So what if he also started to mend whatever nonexistent relationship was there in the process? What mattered was that someone told you that it was okay.

And Sakusa was okay with that. Being late to practice wasn't nearly as pressing as his long overdue apologies. What could be more important than that?

Do not copy and/or repost!! Any likes or reblogs are appreciated, though! (c) 2024 LemurzSquad

[rafeandonlyrafe]

bad f*cking friend part 2

words: 1.3k

warnings: smut, 18+ only, male and female masturbation

part 1 part 3

you wake up in the middle of the night, unsure of what caused it. your ears strain, and there it is, a slight noise to your right, where your best friend lays. 

you turn over onto your side with a smile on your face, expecting to tell rafe to go back to bed, that he’ll be tired in the morning, but that’s not the sight that greets you. rafes hand is around his cock, holding the base tightly. you’re shocked how big he is, how hard he is. you’ve imagined it before, what he would look like under his pants, but the reality is better than anything your mind has conjured.

you flick your eyes to his face, but rafe doesn’t seem to see that you’re awake, his eyes still wide and waiting. you sit completely still. you should move, god you should move and yell and ask him what the fuck, but you sit still. you want to see more, you need to see more. 

rafe fulfills your needs in a minute when his hand starts to move again. it’s mesmerizing, the steady, practiced motion that he’s clearly done countless times. you imagine what it’s like, what it’s like to be the one holding his cock, squeezing it, feeling it’s warmth on your palm, the smattering of hair at the base, the veins that run up it.

your movements are so slow that you don’t even realize what you’re doing until your hand is pressing over your pussy, wishing your shorts weren’t standing in the way of your clit as it pulses in need. you press your thighs together as you imagine rafe between them like you’ve done so many times before. you want to rock your hips, or spread your legs and feel your own wetness, but you can’t risk not seeing rafe finish. 

it’s so dirty and wrong, you think to yourself. your best friend who you weren’t even supposed to share a bad with, clearly needing release desperately as his cock pulses, and here you are, rubbing your pussy over your clothes and spying on him, watching his movements from the shadows.

you want to sink your lips over his cock. you want to taste it on your tongue. is he salty? sweet? bitter? you want nothing more than to know, to have him in your mouth, down your throat. to be the one causing his pleasure instead of his own hand. 

you think to all the women hes hooked up with, wishing you were also a name on that list. but you can’t be, you’re the best friend. the one he doesn’t lust after, the one he treats with respect when all you want him to do is be very disrespectful. you’d take anything from him, even if it was something as impersonal as taking you from behind so he doesn’t have to see the face of his good friend. or fucking your mouth, not even giving you the respect to touch your body, just using you as a hole.

you rock gently into your hand, being very careful to keep the movements small enough that the comforter bundled up over your body doesn’t move. you force your eyes away from rafes glorious cock to his face, surprised to find his eyes on you. you move even less, clearly he must be making sure you don’t wake up, making sure you don’t ruin his fun. you wish it was because he wanted you as badly as you want him.

you wonder what he would be doing right now if you weren’t in the same bed, if you weren’t in the same room. would he still be getting himself off, or would he have found another random girl to bounce on his cock. you’ve heard stories from some of your friends that hooked up with him, about how ruthless he is,  how good he makes them feel while he seemingly only cares for his pleasure.

you push your fingers harder against the fabric, stimulating your clit, right where you need it, right where you wish rafe was. you wonder what it would be like to have his tongue pressing against you there. none of the stories you heard involved rafe giving head, but you imagine he’s good at it, that when he is passionate about the person he’s having sex with that he would spend hours between their thighs, enjoying the taste on his tongue.

rafe lets out a low moan and you swear you could cum right there if you weren’t filled with guilt. you feel dirty, calling yourself names. slut, whore. getting off to her own friend. despite these thoughts, your fingers continue to press and rub.

you watch his thumb swipe over the head of his cock, and you could drool at the sight of it. you think of all those times in the past when he’s been wearing a wet swimsuit or gray sweatpants and your eyes dropped to his crotch. you felt wrong then, and you feel even more wrong now, but you couldn’t care less as rafe starts breathing faster, chest heaving up and down. 

his loose shirt is falling in a way that you can still see the outline of his abs. you would do anything to get your tongue on them, or to press your pussy against his firm torso, hands going to his chest as you rubbed against him, using his body for your pleasure, leaving wetness all over his body as you cum.

rafes cock begins to pulse and you rub your clit faster, thankful at least that you didn’t wear underwear under your shorts that would have just put another layer of fabric over your cunt. you think about rafe pulling back the covers, sliding your shorts down your thick thighs and using your hole instead of his hand to get off.

when rafe suddenly pulls his hand away from himself, you want to cry out. to tell him no, don’t stop, continue. he tugs his shirt off quietly, clearly still trying not to wake you and drops it between your body and his on the mattress. 

he retakes his cock in his hand, hips now starting to press up in the air. you’re so thankful you let a little moan slip out, but rafe doesn’t seem to notice as you imagine it’s you, hovering over his cock while he fucks you from underneath until he can’t take it anymore, flipping you over so you’re underneath him but never disconnecting your bodies. in your ideal world rafe would spend more hours with his cock inside of you than not. in your ideal world it would be acceptable to skip class because you were too busy fucking him, that you’d have food brought to you in bed so you didn’t have to stop as you get stuffed full with his cum, over and over again until your tummy swells, until he’s officially marked you as his.

you can tell from the feeling building in your tummy that you’re not going to last much longer, but thankfully rafe seems close as well. you push any last thought about feeling guilty over watching him out of your mind as you focus on cumming at the same time as him, fingers now pressing so hard that it’s almost painful.

rafe suddenly throws the shirt over his cock, and you realize than it’s to not make a mess as your eyes move to his face, the way his lip is tucked between his teeth. you imagine taking that lip between your own teeth and tugging on it, and that’s what makes you release. you stay completely silent, swallowing all of your moans to keep yourself concealed as your fingers begin to slow down now that your orgasm is washing over your body.

you see rafe release his lip, letting out a soft sigh, “y/n.”

part 3

[muiitoloko]

Request if it strikes your fancy? Was listening to a version of ‘Por una cabeza’ (no words, just the music) and the thought of being taken to some event or party and Lionel (or whoever vibes with you) taking the reader and guiding them through quite frankly a rather intimate tango uncaring of the guests. It’s probably his party anyways, and it’s not like that man knows shame. Whether that goes to smut or not is totes up to you! The thought of being guided through a dance while he has his hands all over you as he guides you while at the same time using that voice, getting you completely flustered/ worked up is just stuck in my head but I can’t write I can only draw (⁄ ⁄•⁄▽⁄•⁄ ⁄)

Title: Tango of Desire

Summary: On their anniversary, Lionel turns a frustrating evening into a seductive dance, igniting a passion that burns far beyond the party.

Pairing: Lionel Shahbandar × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut

Author's Notes: Thanks for the request! I went to check out the song and accidentally stumbled upon Colin Firth dancing to it… and yep, I fell in love with him all over again ❤️🙂‍↕️ So, thanks for that little detour, and I hope you enjoy this! Also, if you’re in the mood to watch Colin tango his heart out, here’s the video.

Also read on Ao3

You sighed, feeling the cool gin slide down your throat as you stood near the bar, glancing out of the corner of your eye toward Lionel. He was doing what he always did best—entertaining his guests, laughing in that charming way of his, making sure everyone felt welcome. But as you watched him make his rounds, talking and flirting as if the night was just another party, a wave of frustration washed over you. It wasn’t just any night. It was your wedding anniversary, and you had wanted something special, something intimate—just the two of you. But Lionel, being Lionel, had turned it into a grand event, packed with people, leaving you standing alone with a drink in your hand.

You took another sip, the bitterness of the gin matching your mood as you watched him across the room, his deep baritone voice carrying over the music and chatter. Normally, you would be by his side, smiling, playing the role of the perfect hostess. But not tonight. Tonight, you didn’t have the energy for it.

After a while, you noticed Lionel heading toward you, his stride confident, the mischievous glint in his eyes as unmistakable as always. He reached you with that signature smirk, as though he had just won a private game you weren’t even aware of.

"Enjoying yourself, darling?" he asked, his voice smooth and playful as he leaned in closer. "I’ve been looking for you."

You raised an eyebrow, setting your glass down on the bar. "Oh, yes," you replied, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Having the time of my life. Best wedding anniversary ever."

Lionel blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. His smile faltered, replaced by a hint of confusion as he looked at you. "Is something wrong?"

You sighed, feeling a wave of guilt for snapping at him. He didn’t mean any harm, not really. This was just Lionel being Lionel, always needing to be the center of attention. Closing your eyes for a moment, you softened your tone, forcing a small smile as you leaned in to kiss his cheek. "It’s nothing," you murmured, brushing your lips against his skin. "I’m just tired, that’s all."

Lionel’s brow furrowed slightly, his gaze lingering on you, but before he could ask anything else, you smiled again and took a step back. "I think I’ll call it a night," you said quietly. "You stay, enjoy yourself. I’ll see you later."

Lionel watched you leave, but before you got too far, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, gently but firmly. You turned, eyebrows raised in question, only to be met with that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Where do you think you’re going, darling?” His deep baritone voice, smooth as velvet, pulled you closer. “I want to dance with you.”

You hesitated, already knowing where this was going. “Lionel,” you began, trying to sound firm, but the annoyance in your voice faltered under the heat of his gaze. “I’m not in the mood for—”

“Too bad,” he interrupted, his lips curving into a wicked grin as he started pulling you towards the makeshift dance floor. “I am.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but it was no use. Lionel was already weaving his way through the crowd, dragging you behind him like a prize he’d just claimed. He paused when he reached the musicians, leaning in close to speak to them, his voice a low murmur that you couldn’t quite catch. But you knew him too well, and the way the musicians quickly nodded told you everything you needed to know.

The first sultry notes of “Por una Cabeza” floated through the air, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, crossing your arms as you stared at your husband. “Really? A tango?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

Lionel’s smile deepened, his hazel eyes gleaming with that familiar blend of confidence and arrogance. “You know me, darling. I’m nothing if not dramatic.”

Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his hand sliding possessively around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His other hand captured yours, fingers lacing together with an intimacy that sent a thrill down your spine. The music swelled, and Lionel wasted no time, guiding you into the slow, seductive rhythm of the dance.

His movements were deliberate, every step commanding, as he led you across the floor with an ease that left no room for resistance. His eyes never left yours, that playful smirk still tugging at his lips. “You know,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, “I always did like you best like this—pressed up against me, unable to resist my charms.”

You let out a breathless laugh, trying to mask the way your heart was racing. “Lionel, for God’s sake, everyone’s watching.”

“Let them,” he growled softly, his lips brushing dangerously close to your neck. “They should know who you belong to.”

His hand slid lower, pressing into the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer. The heat of his body seeped into yours, and despite yourself, you felt your resistance melting away. There was something about the way he danced—no shame, no hesitation, just pure, unbridled want. His movements became more intense, his leg sliding between yours as he dipped you low, his eyes locked on yours with a predatory hunger.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “Every part of you. And tonight, darling, I plan to remind you of that… thoroughly.”

Your breath hitched, heat pooling in your stomach as he pulled you back up, his lips ghosting over yours, not quite kissing you but leaving the promise of it hanging in the air. The music slowed, the dance drawing to a close, but Lionel wasn’t finished. His hand traveled up your side, grazing the curve of your waist before settling on the back of your neck, his thumb brushing your jaw in a way that made your knees weak.

“Shall we continue this somewhere more… private?” His voice was a low purr, his hazel eyes dark with intent.

You swallowed hard, your pulse pounding in your ears as you nodded. There was no denying him—not tonight. Not with the way he was looking at you, like a lion about to devour his prey.

Lionel smirked, leaning in to press a slow, teasing kiss to your lips, before whispering, “Good girl.”

The applause from the guests echoed when Lionel finished the dance with a flourish, but his attention wasn’t on them. His focus was entirely on you—on the way your body pressed against his, the subtle rise and fall of your chest, and the lingering flush on your cheeks. The heat between you was undeniable, and Lionel fully intended to take advantage of it.

He gave a devilish smile as he led you off the dance floor, ignoring the claps and whistles from the crowd. His hand remained possessive on your waist as he maneuvered through the guests, guiding you down a side hallway that led deeper into the mansion. You followed, heart pounding in anticipation, breath shallow as the atmosphere between you thickened with desire.

Lionel opened a heavy wooden door, revealing his office—a large room filled with bookshelves, art, and a massive desk that dominated the space. As soon as the door closed behind you, his hands were back on you, sliding over your waist and pulling you against him once again.

"Now," he murmured in that deep, velvety baritone, his lips brushing your ear, "let's take a look at what you've been hiding under that dress."

You shivered at the commanding tone of his voice, your body already responding to the anticipation that had been building all night. You didn’t resist as he spun you around, gently but firmly pressing you against the edge of the desk. His hands slid down your hips, teasing the fabric of your dress before you felt the firm tug of the zipper being pulled down.

"Lift it," Lionel ordered, his breath hot against your neck.

With a soft sigh, you obeyed, gathering the fabric of your dress in your hands and pulling it up, revealing the sheer lace panties clinging to your body. The cool air of the room gave you goosebumps, but the heat building between your legs was undeniable.

Lionel’s eyes darkened as they roamed over you, his lips curling into a slow, predatory smile. "Well, well," he purred, his fingers brushing over the delicate lace, grazing the edges of your panties that barely covered your swollen, wet pussy. "Looks like our little tango got you all worked up, didn’t it?"

You bit your lip, heart racing as you felt his fingers trace the slickness already pooling between your legs. "Lionel," you whispered, a mix of desperation and desire in your voice.

"Patience, love," he growled softly, his fingers sliding the lace aside, exposing the glistening folds of your pussy. "I want to savor this."

His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he bent you over the desk. The wood was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat building between your thighs. You could feel the weight of his gaze as he stood behind you, admiring the way you were displayed for him—completely at his mercy.

"What a beautiful sight," he murmured, his hand sliding over the curve of your ass, giving it a firm squeeze before his fingers returned to your pussy, sliding over your slippery folds with deliberate slowness. "You're soaked, love. All for me."

You whimpered softly, your body arching under his touch as he teased you, his fingers brushing your clit before sliding lower, easily slipping inside your wetness. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through you, your thighs trembling as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, slow and controlled.

"Tell me," Lionel growled, his lips brushing the back of your neck as he leaned over you, his breath hot against your skin. "Do you know how badly I wanted to fuck you right there in front of all those people? Watching you dance, seeing you move like that... knowing that you're mine."

You gasped as his fingers curled inside you, hitting just the right spot. "Leo," you moaned, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as your body rocked against his hand. "Please... don't tease me."

He chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. "Oh, I don’t plan on teasing you for long, love," he murmured, his voice a dark promise as he pulled his fingers away, leaving you aching and empty for a moment.

Then, you felt him behind you, the sound of his belt unbuckling and the soft rustle of fabric as he freed himself from his pants. His cock, hard and thick, pressed against your entrance, teasing you with just the tip, sliding through your wetness.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, love," Lionel growled, his voice rough with desire. "You'll be screaming my name by the time I'm done."

With one swift, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, stretching you completely, his hips slamming against your ass as he filled you to the hilt. You cried out, your body arching against the desk as he gripped your hips tighter, setting a relentless pace.

"Fuck," he growled, his breath ragged as he pounded into you, hard and fast. "You feel so fucking good."

Every thrust sent waves of pleasure through you, your body trembling as he took you, his movements rough and demanding, just the way you both liked it. The sound of his cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy filled the room, mixing with the harsh breaths and low growls escaping Lionel's throat.

"You're mine," he hissed, his hand tangling in your hair, pulling your head back slightly as he drove into you. "Every part of you, mine."

You moaned loudly, your body on the edge of release as he continued to fuck you with abandon, his hips slamming into you with a force that left you breathless.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice low and dangerous as his hand tightened in your hair. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you gasped, your voice trembling with pleasure. "I'm all yours, Lionel."

The sound of your submission pushed him over the edge, his hips slamming into you harder, deeper, as his climax approached. "Good girl," he growled, his hand sliding down to grip your ass as he thrust into you one last time, spilling deep inside you with a low, guttural moan.

You cried out as your own orgasm hit, your body trembling beneath him as the pleasure washed over you in waves, crashing through you as Lionel held you tight, his cock still pulsing inside you.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your heavy breathing, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Lionel leaned over you, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, "You're perfect, love. Absolutely perfect."

And as he slowly pulled away from you, his hand caressing your back, you couldn’t help but smile, knowing that despite everything—the grand party, the crowd, the chaos—Lionel had made sure that tonight was just for the two of you, exactly how you wanted.

[overtaken-stream]

Sweets Full Of Lies

Sanji x F!Reader

``I think you stole something from me.``

``I stole something?``

This doesn't need a warning, this happens after the drum island and It's just tooth-rotting fluff for me and me only, be grateful I'm sharing my Pookie with all of you😤

The sky is captivating, gleaming, and full of wonder as it overlooks the reflective sea below, each star lit with passion is moving along the calm waves that are dragging behind The Going Marry, gently slanting the ship to its tastes.

The watch tonight is beautiful as the cure for the country's heart dims on the horizon, scattering pink cherry blossoms across the dark and endless ocean, each piece lightens the midnight, giving hue to a brand-new kingdom.

The scenery is getting further yet, the cherry blossoms follow after the ship, leaving no space for a threat too small.

The chilly atmosphere grows distant as the island strays and the crow's nest feels ever desolate in this bitter aftermath. If it wasn't for the subtle footsteps making their way up to your location in this stillness, you would have slacked off.

A nice scent of roasted baby potatoes entices your nose as a pleased sigh leaves you, slacking off indeed.

Crows nest is not made for two people, yet, with intense and swift maneuvers he lets the plates holding the delicious food dangle on his palms, your pupils follow them, until he brings the right one near your face. You spare him and grab the food, digging in with vigor, among the bites you let out a satisfied hum.

``This is delicious Sanji!`` Delicious as always, one can taste the love and passion through the spices and the warmth of the meal.

His voice volume dismisses the late hour of the night.

``Really?! Thank you (Y/N)-chwan~♡`` Sanji sure appreciates compliments from a lady, maybe a little too much. Though you don't mind his swooning, it's certainly fun to see him become overly affectionate and energetic, a considerable change compared to his interactions with the male members of the crew.

``Thank you too, Sanji.``

After you, Sanji turns to his plate, staring into the view that brought the night chill. He doesn't waste any time as he bites into the hot meal. The silence is welcome among the stars, shining bright from the dark horizon. The obscurity brings peace, the comfort of knowing little and needing no more.

The time is but an illusion as the meal on both plates shrinks until it's consumed with no remains left. Calm is not addressed between you two, finding peace in each other's presence in enough, no words are needed.

Binoculars rest on the floor, unused, but no amount of enlargement of distant images could find the reasonable explanation for the bravery brewing as you stare at the side profile of a blond. The soft features and the clean skin mix well with the pink undertones. You know he is handsome.

You're sure most would agree to that statement. Perhaps that's the thought that picks the simple, sweet, and corny line out of your teeth. It pierces the silent atmosphere.

``Sanji.`` You watch as he turns. The dim blue eye answering your curiosity. At first glance, the cook appears yellow or black, depending on the individual. However, you'd say his soul is the color of roses, with shades of light and hot pink mixing with his pale outer layer. Yet, you can hear a green-haired man argue that his inner soul is but a burning red and orange at the back of your mind. The color of blood on the tip of a silver knife he handles with ease.

You find yourself seeing all three views. Sanji is all of them. You don't seem to mind.

You watch that eye blink twice before opening your mouth.

``... I think you stole something from me.`` You find yourself craving that shade of blush that only appears on his face whenever a compliment is given to him by a woman. You want to see the pink blush appear on that ear once more tonight, it would be such a beautiful sight next to the falling cherry blossom petals.

You watch as Sanji takes in what you said. His baby blue lights up with curiosity and focus. He thinks about what he could have stolen as he goes through the memories of today, only to come up blank.

``I stole something...?`` The confusion settles as a smile appears on your face. The man appears oblivious to your deep emotion. The wicked hidden-entertainment. He can not distinguish the extra twist added to your lips.

``I think you stole my heart, Mr. Cook.`` There's a moment of silence that's quite loud, it stretches for a while as you stare at Sanji's widened eyes, you would have compared them to dinner plates if it weren't for the fallen cigarette, that you stomped and made sure to put out. (Can't forget to pick it up later!)

His reaction is not something you've expected. The frozen state as he gazes at you is new. The blank eyes speak of such a shock that you are not sure it could be considered as an emotion, rather a process of doubting oneself, the reality, and the life itself. You're thankful it doesn't last because soon the man you are familiar with, returns.

Sanii who closes his mouth and lets the pink petals land on his head, shining and adorning him with pink light. The blush that arises on his cheeks is shy, the pupil holding a small heart as love colors the iris. Eye round and sunken, Sanji seems small, his body unmoving as he gazes at you. Tongue dripping with romance.

``...I did...?`` You didn't know that a voice could be described as small. It's almost enough to shock you into silence.

Lightly, you bite your lip. You should know better by now.

Your mouth moved. It spoke in a tone you are unfamiliar with, almost like in a trance, addicted to a man much like candy, so sweet and sugar-coated. Your face must be red too, but it can't compare to the flustered Sanji standing in front of you, lighting up in shades more intense.

Cute.

Hopeful, he felt hopeful. The smell of fright coming off of him, is thin.

Shit. You might just devour him tonight.

[ivesambrose]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 💋

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Picture 1 (red rose bouquet)

I heard the lines, "I've got a burning desire for you baby." From that Lana Del Rey song.

You look sweet, soft spoken, well mannered, adorable, probably like a squishmallow to them and yet you can pretty much kick someone's ass if needed. You give them a, "looks like a cinnamon roll, could probably kill you." Vibe.

In their eyes your beauty not only lies in your face but also your determination, passion, it's about drive it's about power we go hungry we devour.

You're equal parts free spirited and equal parts razor sharp. Sometimes you just know exactly what to say, when to call someone out and when to be more compassionate.

You come off like an open book but it seems far from the truth, there are parts of you so hidden they crave to know yet can't help but be magnetized by the allure. So if you wish, they'd let you keep your secrets as long as you have an honest heart towards them.

Your magnetism, charm, beauty, loyalty, intuition, sensuality, voice, eye for aesthetics, literally everything is what sets you apart in their eyes. They know nobody can replicate the essence you have they wouldn't care anyway.

Picture 2 (colas with cherry)

Something about you is so eccentric they can't put a finger on it even if it's almost obvious. Your mind, body, face, hair, even your language. Could very well be that you have a cultural difference between them.

"they know so much, they know too way too much. I'm actually turned on."

You likely educate yourself a lot on different topics, different cultures, might be a polyglot too. You may have the most strange yet straightforward take on things, you could literally dip chips in icecream and eat them and honestly, they love it.

They love how weird you are in the best ways possible and they never want you to change.

They also see the side of you that can give really practical advice and be super caring and observant. They also really love the way you put certain outfits together or just your aesthetic in general.

They think of you when the most peculiar thing pops up like, "oh look a fruit bat. You know how likes fruit bats?" "Oh *insert name* would have liked this flower." "They would have loved to visit this place with me!"

If and when they're apart from you they think of how anyone would love to get close to you and honestly they get a little jealous.

Little snippets of you exists in their everyday life and more.

Your outlook, your perspectives, differences, your body language, facial features, feisty spirit, knowledge, assertiveness and "Ya I got this!" Attitude sets you apart in their eyes.

Picture 3 (strawberries dipped in cream)

You know that song by Isabel Rosa "you're so pretty it hurts, baby I'm yours..." That came to my mind.

You've gone through a lot of pain, you likely mask that with humour or channel them into your creativity, you're rather jovial, full of life and idiosyncraticities but underneath that you've gone through deep loss and turmoil. But you haven't let that make you a bitter person.

You're healing and yet you heal anyone you come in touch with. Honestly my chest feels heavy and my throat is tight, they want to hold you and just make you pain vanish.

They see you as being a lot stronger than them emotionally and mentally. They know you wouldn't judge them harshly and that being around you feels perfectly harmonious.

You're irreplaceable.

They're aware sometimes you need your space but regardless they want to be at arms reach for you.

Your faith in yourself and whatever you believe in, your goals big or small, your friendliness, your humanity, playfulness and creativity is what sets you apart in their eyes.