#i think it would have worked between these two
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neuary ¡ 2 days ago
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You're all I can think of, every drop I drink up.
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MINORS DNI!! MINORS DNI!! MINORS DNI!! MINORS DNI!!
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contents ⇀ Manager!Mc, AFAB reader, titsucking, fingering, handjob, B.Saja hates your guts (at first but then he starts fucking it), Lots of petnames from him and he calls you 'manager' a lot here, mentions of alcohol, lots of teasing from him, switch reader(and a lil of B.saja), I give him a name here because I refuse to call him Baby Saja the whole time.
side note — im also planning on making a whole lore about how Mc became their manager and yes im calling the reader mc bcs im a LADS fangirl and have grown used to it LOLL
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Your impression of him had been sour. 
He'd often express great disliking towards you because a mortal human would be handling their group. And the fact that you made a deal with Gwi-Ma for this job just made you more irritating. 'Human greed as always.' He'd say, as if his words held no hypocrisy. But you'd always try to remain professional, putting up with his mean remarks masked as 'criticism' as well as the obvious glares whenever you're in the same room. 
He hated you and you did your best to work around that.
Your first proper interaction happened late at night when he found you drinking alone in the bathroom. You looked like a mess. Hair sticking out in different directions as tears stained your cheeks, the sight looked absolutely pathetic he just had to sit and watch.
You offer him a drink and he accepts because who says no to alcohol? Well not him.
He drinks with you, watching as you take in sips of the booze directly from the bottle. Nothing he hasn't seen before, human nature at its lowest point. You start to spill out your thoughts, telling him about how hard it is to be their manager, and even if he didn't care to listen you had to let it out as a drunken statement just for tonight.
He listens and may or may not have been reminded of his humanity. He still didn't like you, but you were tolerable as of now.
And from that point on, you'd both drink together late at night in the bathroom, time to time. He let it happen, maybe because the fact that you're drunk means you wouldn't be able to remember much of what he's saying. Or maybe because the company you both shared on the cold tiled floor just felt nice.
Then one night he enters the bathroom and he sees you there fully sober. "Hey." You greet him. Opposed to the usual, "Babbbyyyyyyy!" That'll leave from your lips every time you see a blur of blue hair in your drunken state.
"Not drinking tonight?" He asks, his expression blank as he sits next to you.
"No.. I'll just get a hangover and it'll make the job worse for me."
"We just ran out of booze didn't we?"
"Yeah that too I guess."
Silence falls between you two, and you soon ask him a sober question.
"What's your real name?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Calling you 'Baby' is a little too awkward for me."
"With how many times you've said it, I'm surprised."
Your face flushes as you look down.
"I was drunk those times okay?.. But you don't have to tell me, It's not—"
"Daewon."
You look at him, surprised that he'd actually tell you. "So is it fine if I call you that now?"
"I don't really care." 
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Is what he said, though he didn't expect to be caring about it at all now that he has you in his bed. Underneath him, half naked, your panties pushed to the side as his fingers pushed in and out of you. 
"Daewon..!" You'd say in between his thrusts, your face flushed and hidden behind your hands. 
The sight thrilled him, wanting to push you further. 
"I want to see you, manager." He coos, leaning down to tease you more. His free hand moves yours away from your face, you could tell how much he enjoyed your reactions with just his breathing alone. "Well aren't you pretty? Haha.. Want me to go faster?" 
"Mghh..! Please! Fffuck..!! I.." 
"Mm, yeah? What is it manager?" 
"Yyou're.. Aaahh..! Sssuch a prick..mmm!" 
"Watch it, beautiful. I'm the one knuckles deep inside this pussy, do you really think you should be speaking to me like that?" 
God he's such an asshole. But really, that only turned you on. Every taunt that came out of his mouth made you writhe and whine at the palms of his hand, the very same palms that groped at your body, taking your clothes off bit by bit, unclasping your bra as he asks if he can have a taste. 
It came out more teasing than asking though, the shiteating grin on his face as vexatious as ever. "Wanna taste you so bad gorgeous, you'll let me right?" 
"Just do it already..mmghh.." 
"Oh but it seems like you don't want me to." 
"Daewon, I swear to god—Aghh..!" 
You can feel the smirk that forms on his lips as he starts to suck on your chest. 
"You like my name a lot?" He kisses at your collar bone, "Gonna scream it out for me?" He licks down up until your cleavage, his other hand still working on making you cum as the other holds your tit directly at his tongue. He puts it in his mouth, sucking and lapping up at your nipple, letting it go with a pop as he gives the same attention to the other. You continue to whine complaining about the pace he's going, your pussy clenching at his fingers. 
The way your eyes sharply squints at his direction has every vein in his body quiver, the electrifying feeling of it pulsing up until his cock. He needed you, so bad but he still wanted to test how desperate you can get. 
"You're complaining a lot but this cunt tells me otherwise.. hah.. mm, show me how bad you want it yeah?" His hands take a break from fondling your breasts, leading you to feel the bulge in his pants. "Show me.. mm..ah.. I know you want to.." 
You hesitate, because you want to get him back thanks to how pent up he's made you. 
But the look he gave you leaves you torn with the options you had in mind. "Is it my turn to beg?" He chuckles, "You're so cute.. hah.." 
"You're sssoo.. mmghhff..ffuck.. I hate how good yyyou.. aare at thisss.. aaa...nnmmhhh.!" 
"Flattery won't get you anywhere but my cock, gorgeous... Haha.. Keep going, yeah?" 
He pulls your hand onto the tent in his pants, making you more feel more hotter than before. He felt big.. No, he is big. With a face like his you wouldn't expect it at all, and the way he's looking at you suggests that he's intent on making you remember that. 
"Feel that? That's all you." He smiles before kissing you, his lips traveling down to your collar and chest once again. He groans at your touch, smiling against your skin as he feels you give in to his request. "Mmhh.. That's right.. Stroke my cock." 
You place your hand at the base of his bulge before going at the hem of his pants, taking his cock out. You start out slow, teasing him back by grazing your fingertips onto his shaft, softly going up and down. 
"Please. You can do better than that." He whispers directly at your ear, his words coming out more as a demand. 
"You can beg better than that." You bite back, earning another smile from the demon. His fangs are visible as he bites at your shoulder without warning, slobbering it up after with kisses and licks. 
"So it is my turn after all. 'Want it fifty-fifty, is that it?" 
"Mmghh.! ..ahh" You could feel his fingers press harder into your pussy, his thumb bundling up your clit to stimulate you further, "Daewon..ahhh just..mmghh.. ffuhh.. fff..fuckk..!" 
"Fffuhh..ffuuuhh?" He mocks, quickening his pace, "ffuuuckkkkk you? Haha.. mmmghh, that what you want from me, gorgeous?" 
You felt even more flushed with the names he keeps throwing at you, unable to keep up but still unwilling to drown into his control. 
"Yeahh ahhhggg... So what iff..I do?.. You're supposed to..mmm do what I say anyway..ahh.." 
"If you're gonna be so demanding you should try not look so good while getting fingered by me, manager.. haha." His voice was a low, wicked murmur, his breath hot against your ear. Each word sent shivers down your spine, making you arch into his touch instinctively. He chuckled darkly, a sound of pure satisfaction.
"Mmm, you're so responsive, manager... I can feel you clenching.. Craving more." 
You could feel the hard length of him pressing insistently into your palm, a silent promise of what was to come. He was teasing you, pushing you to the brink of desperation with his slow, sensual thrust. He just needed you to beg for it. To really beg for it. To scream your desire out to him so he can finally have you right then and there. You wanted it as bad as he did didn't you? Your pretty face says it all as he tries his hardest to hide the look on himself.  
He drank in the sight. The desperate need written plainly across your features, the hunger that mirrored his own. The thought of it made him twitch, knowing he could reduce you to this state with just his touch and teasing words. His ego swelled at the realization, cock throbbing with anticipation. His lips brushes against yours in a ghost of a kiss, not quite touching but close enough to feel the heat radiating from them. He moves back onto your breasts, the slick of his drool drips down, his eyes stuck to yours. "Come on, gorgeous... mm.." He places a peck on your nipple, "Don't hold back now. I want to hear you scream my name like you mean it.." He heavily sighs, "Fuck, the way you look at me, like you need me more than your next breath... it's fucking intoxicating."
His fingers held both your tits in place, allowing him to suck and lick as he pleases as the other continued stroking and circling your clit. He could feel the slick heat of your arousal coating his fingers, and it took every ounce of control not to simply surge forward and bury himself inside you.
"Daaaewon..mmmm aghh fffuckk..!"
"Tell me how badly you want it, manager. Beg me for it." His voice was a low, dark rumble, sending vibrations through your chest. He nipped at your chest, soothing the sting with a flick of his tongue before pulling back slightly to search your eyes. "I need to hear it.." The tone of his voice almost let out a crack of neediness. 
"The way your pretty face flushes, the way you tremble and moan so sweetly... it's driving me insane. So be a good girl and give me what I want, yeah?"
He punctuated his demand with a sharp thrust of his fingers, pushing deep and curling against that perfect spot inside you. His thumb rubbed tight circles on your clit, the dual stimulation pushing you to the brink of ecstasy. He was close, so fucking close to snapping, to giving in to the urge to just take you. But he needed to hear you say it. 
You soon snap, having enough of his teasing. 
But you didn't dare beg. Hell no. 
You retaliate, squeezing at his cock so suddenly, not enough to hurt but to get a reaction from the demon. His eyes shot open, lips letting go of your breasts as he lets out a strained moan. "Aghhmm..!? What the fuck are y..! Ahhhgg..mmm.." 
You rub your thumb over the tip of his dick, stroking him every few seconds as you switch between both actions. He starts to pant like a dog, too immersed from your touch to even notice that you've switched positions with him. A strangled moan tore from his throat, the sound a mix of surprise and pleasure as your hand tightened around his aching cock. His hips jerked forward, seeking more of that delicious friction, and he found himself momentarily short of words.
"Nnngghh... fuck..." He gasped out, his voice ragged and raw. The feeling of your thumb swirling around the sensitive head of his cock sent electricity up his spine, making him shudder and groan. He was so fucking hard, his dick twitching and leaking, desperate for more. 
The power dynamic had shifted, and the realization sent a thrill of excitement through him. He gazed up at you, eyes glinting with a mix of annoyance and arousal. A smirk tugged at his lips, slowly spreading into a wicked grin. "Hahh.. Playing hard to get? mm.. I didn't tell you to do that..hah.." He chuckled darkly, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you down against his straining erection. He rolled his hips upwards, grinding against your slick heat and letting out a low groan.
You visibly react, shuddering at his length that's underneath your sex. 
"You think you're sooo clever hm? Haha. You have no idea how dangerous it is to tease a demon like this." His voice was a low, seductive rumble, his eyes glinting with predatory intent. 
"Your cock is telling me otherwise." You compose yourself, tugging at his cock sensually. He hisses, the friction making him even more aroused. "Haha.. mgh.. You're sooo cute." You mock, copying the tone of his voice. 
He made no move to reclaim control, instead letting you continue. He arched into your touch, his body trembling with the effort of holding back, allowing you to set the pace. It was a small victory, but a sweet one nonetheless. You could feel your own heart racing in your chest, your breaths in each other's faces as you come closer to have a quick taste of his lips. 
The air was thick with the scent of sex. He could see the hunger in your eyes as you gazed down at him, and it only fueled his own desire.
"So, what now, gorgeous?" He looks up at you, placing a hand on your lower back. 
You remove his touch on you, pinning his hand onto the bed, the back of his head thumps against the headboard. 
Breathless, you gaze down at him as you shift to strip your panties off "Now.. ha.. You sit there and take it." 
He found it adorable. So fucking sexy how you think you could boss him around like this. And honestly he's going to let you. What a sweet little mortal 'putting him in his place' like this when she can barely glare daggers at him in her state. 
"Do your worst princess." 
You crumple up your undergarments, shoving the fabric into his mouth without a second more to spend. He looked very shocked, rightfully so but his cock only felt more harder in your fingertips. 
You position his erection underneath you. Slowly, you sit down, feeling his size sink and throb inside you. You couldn't help but squeal, voice becoming higher in pitch as your breath gets heavy. You convulse onto him, your body fluttering, almost cumming on the spot. 
You move, his cock slipping in and out of you easily because of how soaked you got from his fingers. The sudden motion startles him, his hands fly right at your hips, gripping intensely. 
"Mmmgghhfff..!" The sound of his groans were drowned out by the panties gagging him shut. Your panties, fuck they tasted so good. They tasted like you and he can't wait to bury his face into them. 
"You're such a prick.. mghh.. Always.. haa.. being sso difficult." 
You say in between moans as you ride him, bouncing on his cock. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth around the fabric gagging him. The way you moved on his cock has Daewon mentally reminding himself to hold back, your slick walls gripping him like a vise, made it impossible for him to feel genuinely irritated. 
"Always making..ahh hhh.. Things so difficult for me.. haa.. fuckinggmm.! ssadist.."
He bucked his hips up to meet your downward thrusts, driving himself deeper into you. It was hard not to show the visible look of pleasure across your face, but you made sure to not break, still glaring daggers at him even with the fast pace of your breathing. You muster up a handful of self control to get a handful of his hair, tugging him towards you as you bite into his lip before removing the undergarments in his mouth. The cotton white panties hangs between your teeth as you pull away from him. He lets out a deep sigh, his breathing still shaky, matching yours as well as the way you move on his cock. 
"Aww..haaha.. I wanted to keep that." He grins, drool dripping from his mouth. His hands move to caress your back, a silent praise emitting from the skin ship. 
You drop the panties, using both hands to grip at his shoulders. 
You refuse to give him the satisfaction of a response from you, quickly shoving your tongue down his throat to shut him up.  He kisses back, your sounds clash together as he devours you like a starving man. You keep going, writhing as the taste of him engulfs your mouth like fire. The flavor of sweet mintiness spreads. 
He's the first to pull away, not bearing another second apart from your tits as he instantly smothers them with sloppy kisses. You tug on his hair, groaning curses and fucked out phrases that you don't even realize you were saying. His name felt so good on your tongue. "Daewon.." You'd whine. 
"Daewon.." 
He starts to go faster, fuckinh into you more. 
"Daewon ahh.." 
You match his pace, compelled to experience release. 
At this point you couldn't tell who was in charge, you both gave into your own hormonal urges, ravaging each other like animals. 
"Fuck...O ffuuck.. You feel so good, manager.." He whispers, still having his mouth pressed against your breasts. He just can't get enough. "I'm so close.. ahh.. hhh ha.."  
"Yyyeah? mmm.." You attempt to taunt him. "Already? hahahhh..." 
He laughs, pulling you closer to him, your tits flushed and pressed against his neck as he looks at you with a determined expression, grinning knowingly. "Look me in the eye and tell me.. ha.. you're not as desperate as I am to cum." 
Your smug expression falters, amusing him further. 
"Tell me, manager.." 
"Just..ahhh... mm..kkeep fucking me." 
He lets out another laugh, his smile wider as he thrusts harsher into you. 
"Yes ma'am." 
The pace intensifies and both your expressions drop into uncontrollable pleasure, eyes rolling back as well as squeezing shut once the orgasm in you snaps. Both of you grip on each other as if for your dear life. He felt so good, he felt so fucking good and you didn't know if you hated that he did or not. He was definitely sure however, that you felt the closest thing to heaven. Like a bottle of alcohol, he's sure he'll be getting addicted soon.
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Im so sorry, I hope this was worth the wait yall <3
—neu
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drchucktingle ¡ 2 days ago
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BEING AN ASSHOLE AS A BRAND
lots of authors have been posting great pieces of advice for up and coming buckaroos and i agree with so much of it. GREAT RESOURCES right now so i thought i would add my own. usually i use words like scoundrel but for meanings sake i will just be direct: dont make being an asshole your brand
let me preface this by saying it should be taken with HUGE grain of salt, you can do whatever you want buckaroo its YOUR art and your personal expression. to be honest i often refrain from ‘advice’ because id rather simply tell what works for me, but i feel like this one is pretty universal.
i am in incredibly rare position to have come up in TWO MAJOR CREATIVE INDUSTRIES and reached ‘traditionally published’ or ‘major film studio contract’ level completely separate from each other, without connections between, and this is ABSOLUTELY a massive factor in the buckaroos who trot long term
there is always a sort of incoming class of buds who rise up, and inevitably a few of them will seem to WANT to make enemies with everyone around them the second they have even the smallest voice. i UNDERSTAND in the sense that we have these legendary jerk artists in our culture. HOWEVER
1 those artists generally let their asshole flag fly AFTER they reached the top and 2 if not, it was a different time, there is simply not enough money in the creative fields for major creative entities to tolerate talented up and coming assholes. it is FINANCIALLY a different timeline now
EVEN SO you can point to a few old big timers who are notorious assholes but i would say its important to consider JUST HOW BIG WOULD THEY BE IF THEY WERE ALSO KIND. what if they were that talented AND watched out for their buds? heres what happened to the 'jerk brands' i trotted up with personally
every single one of them got intoxicated by the identity of being mean or ‘just tellin it like it is’ and then fell directly onto their face. the only ones who escaped were those who started that way on the trot up and IMMEDIATELY pulled it together and stopped and changed course
i know it might seem obvious to many reading this but you would be SHOCKED how many buds thinks it is a COOL IDENTITY to cultivate. some will probably subtweet this haha but listen bud, the directors you trash SEE IT. publishers DONT NEED TO TOLERATE TALENTED ASSHOLES ANYMORE THERES NOT ENOUGH MONEY
important reminder that i am talkin on artists who are PUBLICLY assholes, who trash talk their classmates or their fans. the ones who EMBRACE THIS IDENTITY as a sort of flag to wave because it gets them attention. theres plenty of SECRET assholes who find success, unfortunately. that is other topic
it is also important to say that FIGHTING THE POWERS THAT BE or protesting the scoundrels of the world is not being an asshole. KINDNESS CAN BE STRONG AND DIRECT AND POWERFUL. we need kind, strong buckaroos these days. it is not a weakness to love, and you should speak up for those who need it
so what can be done? what happens if you are reading this post and thinking ‘oh heck i can feel myself falling into asshole trap?’ well as a first reminder you can do anything you want bud, HAVE AT IT because i am not telling you this for MY sake, but if you want some actual advice id say this:
just being kind is MUCH easier than it seems, it only takes a little effort to reach out to your buds, to help, to encourage, to assistant, to talk about how much you liked someones film or song or book. jealousy or frustration are NATURAL feelings, but you dont have to let them run the show.
you MAY have to mourn the times an author couldve reached out for a book event that never happened because you turned them into an enemy. or a record executive read the stuff you said in some interview and pulled the soundtrack slot that was waiting for you on their desk. but IT IS NEVER TOO LATE
YOU can turn those feelings into fuel instead of venom, and GUESS WHAT it will genuinely be great for your art. LOVE is such an incredible driver, even when its manifested from anger or darkness. it takes some work, but i believe its worth it for your heart AND your prospects as an artist. LETS TROT
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nishirikies ¡ 2 days ago
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(=`ェ´=) ₊ ⊹ 박셍훈 x f!reader ៸៸ ⩇⩇
✦   ˚     Tags   🗯️ .  ჰ boxer!sunghoon opponent's sister!reader use of baby, beautiful (f rec.) hoon, hoonie (m rec.) degradation praise rough sex victory sex spanking oral (f rec.) teasing hair pulling doggy position descent position catapult position mating press missionary wall sex exhibition public sex (kinda) secret relationship mentions of Jay unprotected p in v unsafe sex creampie Sunghoon throws reader around a bit hinting towards possesive Sunghoon bc... he's so sexy (つ﹏<)・゚。5.3k words not proof read
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Every year, it’s the same fight between the same two people. Your brother, Jay Park, and Sunghoon park. For the past three years in a row, they’ve made it to the finals. It’s currently 2 to 1, Jay taking the advantage.
Not this year, though. This year, Sunghoon has something to look forward to, the sweet taste of your pussy. The pair train in the same gym, and sometimes, you would follow along, Jay forcing you to work on your endurance and strength with him, even if you absolutely hated it. 
Weeks prior to the final fight, in the early hours of the morning, you made your way to the locker rooms to grab your brother a spare water bottle. When suddenly, your back was pushed against the cold metal of the locker, a broad figure pushing against you. 
“Hey!” You shout, hands bracing against the man's shoulders before realising who it was. Your expression became guarded, lips pursing together as your brother's greatest opponent stood before you. “Sunghoon–”
He shushes you, quietly, shaking his head as his hands rub up and down your waist. “I’m not going to do anything,” He murmurs, lifting his hands to grab your wrists, bringing your hands back down to your sides, slowly. “I’m here to make a deal with you.”
Your brows furrowed in confusion, hands flexing against the hold he has on your wrists, pulling his hands away in annoyance and disgust. “I’m not making any deal with you. If you think I’m going to let you rig the fight, then you’re the biggest dickward I’ve ever spoken to,” You shoot back, glaring at him in pure annoyance. 
“I’m not going to ask you to rig the fight,silly,” He muses, one of his large hands coming up to pinch your cheeks together, mocking a pout as he shakes your head from side to side, “I’m just here to ask about when I win.”
“You’re not going to win,” You bite, grabbing at his wrist and pulling him away. 
“Stop talking, gosh, you're a nuisance,” He groans, rolling his eyes, squeezing your cheeks before pulling his hand away. “Look, if I win, which I will… I get to have you. For one night. That’s all. No one needs to know, Jay’s not going to know, the media isn’t going to know, just me and you.”
Your annoyed glare turns into one of confusion and surprise. One night with you. You and Sunghoon are alone together, for a singular night. You feel your cheeks heat up at the thought and you glance away, keeping that guarded and annoyed expression on your features. 
“It’s not a date,” he quickly says, knowing that you’ll definitely say no. His hands come to your waist, cupping your sides perfectly like a puzzle piece and taking a step closer. His head dips down, trailing his lips against the side of your neck and the bare skin of your shoulder. “Just me and you,” he whispers, one of his hands coming up to fiddle with the strap of your sports bra, “And the sweet taste of that pussy. Yeah? How does that sound?”
The proximity and his gravelly voice drives you insane, feeling a heat in your stomach fluttering lower to the fabric of your underwear. Your hands brace against the locker behind you, your breath stuttering quietly as you turn your head to face him. You can’t lie, the idea sounds extremely tempting. And if he won, then it would be a tie between the pair… 
Biting your lower lip, you roll your eyes and look away, “Fine,” you grumble, hands grabbing a hold of his wrists and pulling them away from your body, noticing the way he easily allows you to move, “Only if you win the fight. Other than that, nothing. Don’t ask me again and don’t hit me up after the night.” 
The smirk that forms on his face is one to make your knees weak and you become unsure whether it’s going to be the best or worst decision that you’ve made in your life. 
The night of the fight, you were on the edge of your seat the whole time, watching the way that Jay and Sunghoon present themselves so proudly in the ring. Their skills and their looks caused uproars in the crowd, dividing the large group of people. You could hear the way the different groups of fans chant your brother and his opponents name. At this point of time, you can’t even be bothered to think about Sunghoon, you just want your brother to win. 
An hour later, you're watching the deciding round of the night. Both Jay and Sunghoon have won a round each, now you’re watching the two bloodied men stand face to face for the last time of the night. 3 minutes for Jay to win, 3 minutes for him to hit the final blow but Sunghoon just won't give up. Desperate Asshole. 
After three excruciating minutes of watching the pair fight, the winner was decided. And it was not your brother. 
You sit angrily in your seat, glaring at the man filled with pride as he holds up his winning belt, motioning for the crowd to create more sounds of luxury as he basks in the glory. At some point, while you’re standing with Jay, handing him a towel and a tissue for his nose while his team assesses him out, you glance back at the ring, eye contact being made as he leans cockily against the rope, peering down at you with a determined expression. He points to himself and mouths these six words to you, ‘meet me at my locker room.’ 
His prize awaits.
An hour and a half later, you’re stepping out of Sunghoons car, his hand immediately finding its way to your lower back as he guides you up the steps towards his house, his broad figure crowding your back as he unlocks the door to his penthouse. 
“Make yourself at home, beautiful,” he murmurs in your ear, biting your earlobe as he ushers you inside, closing and locking the door behind him. You stand there dumbfounded as he strips himself of his jacket and shoes, acting like this isn’t an arrangement. When he notices you haven’t moved, he glances over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “You’re just going to stand there and do nothing?”
You cross your arms over your chest, leaning on one him and knitting your brows together, your tone full of accusation and confusion. “You said that when you win, you are going to take me. Yet, here you are, acting like we came home from a date. What’s your deal?”
He scoffs, turning to face you, stepping closer and invading your personal space once more. “Oh, I’m sorry, baby,” he teases, cupping your face and towering over you, “I didn’t realise I couldn’t relax after, you know, winning. You should’ve seen the look on your brother’s face when he realised I won, I really hope someone got a photo of it. I think I’m going to frame it up on my wall somewhere.”
“Stop,” you grumble, rolling your eyes as he recalls the memory of your siblings' loss, “I get it, you won. What a great deal for you. Now, hurry up before I call my brother to take me home. I doubt he’s going to be very happy with the arrangement we’ve got.”
You see his eyes narrowing in disdain, the thought of your brother coming to his house and taking you away from him. He shakes his head, letting out a scoff and gripping onto your hips, pulling you closer so your bodies are pressed against each other. You gasp at the sudden roughness, gripping a hold of his shoulders and glaring up at him. “You’re already here, why think about leaving, hm?” He whispers, leaning in and dipping his head into the crook of your neck. Your senses react to the feel of his hot breath against the skin of your neck, his hands digging into your sides, his broad body pushing you against the door. 
He presses his lips against your neck, humming at the sweet scent of your perfume against his nostrils. His hands rub up and down your sides, catching onto the fabric of your jacket, his hands reaching up to pull it off your body. “Get comfortable.” 
“Sunghoon,” you whisper, helping him slide the jacket off your body, slipping your shoes off and kicking them to the side. 
“Yes, baby?” 
“Don’t test me. Hurry up.” 
He lifts his head up, staring down at you, the teasing expression gone from his face as he lifts a hand up to hold onto your chin. He watches you, as if examining you, his body straightening up. “Fine,” he murmurs, pulling you away from the door and roughly turning you to the stairs. “Third room to the left. I want you stripped by the time I get there. Go.” He smacks your ass and pushes you, urging your body to the steps. 
You glance over your shoulders to shoot him a glare but he’s disappeared into the other room. You scoff, heading up the stairs and keeping your features hardened. This definitely could be going better and you pray he’s as good in bed as he is in the ring. 
When you finally reach his bedroom, its features are lit up by the warmth of lights around the space. His bed, crisp white and grey sheets, faces the window where a view of Seoul's skyline can be seen from the balcony. To the left of the space is an extendable tv, a small couch sits across from it. 
You take time to scan the bedroom, staring in awe at how neatly everything is placed, like it’s for show, not lived in. It’s insane. 
You make your way to the front of the bed, staring out at the view for a moment before starting to strip yourself of the clothing that you’ve been wearing all night. You keep your undergarments on, a matching lace set for just in case Sunghoon did win. The base colour was base pink, the thongs and the top lace of the bra a darker pink placed into an array of beautiful flowers. 
You fold the clothes, placing them down on the chair near the tv and moving forward to stare out at the view while waiting for Sunghoon who is still nowhere to be seen. 
After what feels like forever, the door finally opens and Sunghoon walks in, a towel folded over his forearm and two water bottles in his hand. When he lifts his head to see you, his movements slow down, like he’s stuck in time. He shuts the door behind him quietly, a small smirk on his face as he walks towards you. He throws the materials on the bed and stalks over to you, snickering to himself. “Wow, you’ve out done yourself,” He says, voice an octave deeper than before. 
“You needed fifteen minutes to grab a towel and water bottles?” you snarkily reply, turning towards him and allowing him to grab a hold of your waist once more. He walks you backwards till you’re pressed against the glass windows, staring down at you like you’re prey. 
“Don’t worry about it, beautiful, anything that I had in mind has gone out the window after seeing you like this,” he murmurs, dipping down to press a kiss to your neck. His large hand grabs your chin, pushing your head up to gain more access to your skin. His kisses become harsher, starting to bite and lick at your skin as he slowly descends. 
The warmth of his body against the cold window is addicting, the difference in temperature is overpowering and the way his hands roam and grope at your skin has your head tilting back, eyes closing as you feel the way he explores you. Taking in everything about you, your reactions, the softness of your skin, the way the soft scent of vanilla perfume becomes stronger the lower he goes. 
“Fuck” he curses, opening your legs, breathing over your mound and gripping a hold of your leg to throw over his shoulder, gaining better access to your dripping centre. He drags his nose over the inside of your thigh, pressing gentle kisses for it. His hand runs up and down the skin of your thigh, gentle and soft. His other hand reaches behind you to grab onto your ass, squeezing tightly and making you gasp. “You’re addicting.”
Your hand reaches down to rest in his hair, trying to guide him where you need him before he pulls it away, resting it against the class behind you. “Hoon–”
“Don’t. No touching. This isn’t about you.” He gruffs, looking up at you between your legs and you think this has to be the best view of the night, the way he’s on his knees, hair in front of his face and your leg thrown over his shoulder. You hesitate for a moment, taking in a few deep breaths before nodding your head, bracing your hands against the glass and staring down at him with anticipation. 
“Good girl,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your thigh softly, pressing soft kisses up your thigh and towards the edge of your thong. The hand grasping your behind trails around and gently hooks the bottom of the fabric, moving it to the side and gaining a clear view of your slick ridden pussy. He groans at the sight, eyebrows knitting together as he leans in, his hot breath fanning against your core. “Look at this pussy, so wet… dripping,” he states, eyes drawing upwards towards your face. He watches the way you squirm above him, your stomach twitching as you control your breathing in anticipation, “Is this for me? Wet for me?”
You nod your head, eagerly, praying that it gets him closer to giving you pleasure. Your tone comes out light and breathy, “Yeah… because of you.”
The smirk that forms on his face increases that hot fluttering and you feel your knees go weak. “Yeah, I know, baby,” he whispers, leaning in finally and licking a long strip between your folds. His eyes close at the taste and his arms tighten around your thighs, groaning against your mound and hollowing his lips around your clit. 
You immediately let out a soft whimper of relief, your head hanging down as you watch him before deciding to continue the feeling of him below you. You tilt your head back as he moves closer, kneeling right underneath you and sitting you on top of his face. “Wait,” you breathe, nervous about the position, “Your neck–”
“Don’t worry about it, beautiful,” He grunts, rolling his eyes and fixing the position. Your legs threw over his shoulder and pulled your lower half away from the wall. “I hope you’ve got good core strength.”
He goes back to devouring your cunt, eyes closed as he enjoys the taste of your sweet juice dripping for him. Your eyes roll into the back of your head at his ministrations, the way he immediately has you filled with pleasure is truly something you didn’t expect from the way he was drawing it out earlier. Your moans immediately fill the space, mixing with his as he groans against your pussy. 
“Fuck, Hoon,” you gasp, grinding down against his face, your hands planted against the wall behind you as you try not to go wild, the pleasure becoming stronger as a coil tightens in your lower stomach. 
“Yeah, beautiful,” he groans, flicking his tongue into your dripping hole as he sucks against your clit, the skillful moves making you twitch against him. “Grind against me like that, use my face. Want your juices everywhere.’
The words go straight to your pussy, grinding down harder against him as you feel your hardened nipples scratch against your bra, causing the achiness to grow. Your nails dig into the wall behind you, the pleasure overwhelming. 
You whine his name, face scrunched together as you let the moans spill from your lips freely, fist punching the wall as you gasp. “Cum– fuck, ‘m cumming–!” You moan, feeling the coil snap at an exceptionally hard suck. 
He helps you ride out your orgasm, keeping his tongue flat out for you to use and mumbling incoherent words into your slick pearl. His hands come up, holding onto your waist to stop you from moving and he continues to lap at you for a few more minutes before finally letting his lips go from around your clit. 
“Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing kisses to your thighs and rubbing his hands up and down your torso as you take deep breaths, calming yourself down. “That’s it, calm down,” he whispers, placing your legs back down to the floor and slowly standing, continuing the worship of your body with his plump lips. 
You let your hands drop from the wall, wrapping around his neck to help steady yourself as he wraps his arms around your waist, holding your body close to his. “Wow,” you giggle, smiling as you stare up at him, breathing still heavy, “Didn’t expect you to be that good.”
He raises an eyebrow, humming sarcastically as if he knows that he’s that good. Cocky bastard, you think, watching as he leans in. “You have such low standards if you think that’s good,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against yours softly, continuing to speak against your lips, “I’d hate to know who slept with you prior and couldn’t make you cum.”
“I never said that,” you whisper, shaking your head and leaning in to press another kiss to his lips, pulling back teasingly with a smile, “What else can you do then? Or is it only your tongue that’s got skills?”
He chuckles against your lips, gripping you by your thighs and lifting you up, pressing you further against him. “I guess I’m just going to have to show you, then, huh?” he whispers, grinding your hips down against his, making you feel his bulge straining against his sweats. “Feel that?”
You bite down on your lower lip at the feel of his sweats, staring down at the way a wet patch is left by your slick, furrowing your brows together. “Shit, yeah,” you nod, glancing back up at him. You can’t help but tease him, resting your forehead against his and nudging your nose against his, your lips brushing against his, “Is that for me? Eating me out got you that hard?”
“Fuck, seeing you anywhere got me hard,” He groans, one of his hands slipping down to pull down his sweats and boxers, his straining length hitting against your open cunt. He hisses, furrowing his brows as he grabs at his base, rubbing himself between your folds. “Seeing you in the gym, in those fucking leggings… the way your legs shake everytime you go on the leg press and the weights too heavy, it’s always had my mind going places. The amount of times I’ve wanted to bend you over and fuck you, to claim you, has been way too strong.”
You keep your eyes locked onto him as he rubs himself against you, feeling the way he slickens himself up. He feels fucking huge, and you feel your stomach twist with nerves at the fire burning inside you by his words. “Dirty, dirty boy,” you whisper. 
Before you can say anything else, he thrusts himself up into you, clenching his jaw together at how tight you are. Your mouth drops open at the sudden intrusion, eyes widening and tilting your head back against the wall. 
“Fuck… fuck, your tight,” he grits through teeth, leaning in and hiding his face in your neck. “So tight… so fucking warm too, shit. How aren’t you getting fucked everyday of your life?”
“Fuck, I get it,” you reply, keeping the snarkiness to a T as you tilt your head to face him, pulling his face up, “Maybe you should actually fuck me instead of talking shit–”
Sunghoon cuts you off with a harsh thrust into you, setting a steady pace. His hands grip your waist, bouncing you down onto his cock to meet his hips. “You talk,” he whispers into your ear, biting at your earlobe, “So much shit. I wonder how much you say when I’m not around, huh? I bet you run your mouth like a dirty whore.”
The way his cock slides in and out of you has you becoming light headed, the way his tip presses against your deepest parts has you squeezing your eyes shut and squeezing your walls around him, making you whimper. His hands move down to squeeze at your ass, giving him better leverage to fuck into you. “Yeahhh…” he groans, “That’s it, let yourself get fucked, baby. Let yourself feel it. Feel how deep I am?”
You nod your head, eyes rolling back at the feel of his cock rubbing against your gummy walls. His groans in your ear and the way he holds onto you makes your body allow itself to go limp, knowing that he’s holding your body up, his arm muscles straining against your body. 
“Fuck, like that,” You moan, hiding your face in the crook of his neck and biting down, the sounds of your lewd actions bouncing around the room. The strong movements of his cock pushing your gathered slick out of you, creating wet sounds, the plap plap plap sound filling your ears. Your whines become higher in pitch, fingers digging into his shoulders and potentially breaking skin. 
You feel on cloud 9, your eyes constantly fluttering shut as he continues to pound into you, abusing your cunt, when suddenly, the pleasure stops and he pulls out.
“What, dude?!” You snap, lifting your head up to look at him but he’s already changing your position. He carries you out of the room and onto the balcony, the cool air hitting your body and causing you to hiss. “Sunghoon?”
“Shh,” he shushes, dismissing your words of confusion and rearranging the furniture, pushing the love seat towards the balcony railing with his leg. He pulls you off of him, turning you around and placing your knees against the plush materials, arms braced against the railing. “Open yourself up for me… yeah, like that, arch that back.” He mutters, hand patting at your ass to usher you to move faster. 
His hands brace your hips, aligning himself back up with your entrance and pushing back into the tilt. He bends down, his clothed chest pressed against your back. One of his hands reached to brace against the railing next to yours, his head leaning into your ear. 
“Surprised you’re listening,” he whispers, biting at your neck, licking and kissing the skin, “Just want to be fucked, huh? You going to be nice and loud f’me?”
When you don’t answer, his hand holding your hip moves to the flesh of your ass, a harsh slap meeting your skin. “Answer me.” He grunts, slapping the skin once more. “Are you going to be loud? Let everyone know who’s fucking you so good?”
You whine, head tilting down and pushing back against him, “Yes,” you reply, tilting your head up to look at him over your shoulder, “I’ll be loud.”
That wicked grin greets his lips and he thrusts shallowing into you a few times, watching the way you face immediately retorts, your reaction causing him to chuckle. He straightens up, the warmth hitting your back again and he forces your head forward. “Look at the view, baby, look at how beautiful it is while I fuck you full.”
His hand slides down your back, reaching the clasp of your bra and unclipping it. He helps you take it out, marvelling in your naked arch and the way you gasp as the cold hits your nipples. He gives your ass another spank before starting to thrust, shallowly. 
A small ‘hm’s fall from your lips as he hits deep inside, the pleasure coming in small, short bursts, keeping you on edge. His pace slowly starts to pick up again, wanting to feel the way you clenched around him in wanton, creating a speed as fast as before.
“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, grabbing onto your hips and starting to thrust into you harder, biting his lip as his thighs meet the back of yours. “Take this dick, like a good girl.”
The way he fucks into you makes your body go limp, the only way to keep yourself up being his balcony railing. Which Sunghoon highly disapproves of.
“Watch the fucking view,” He grunts, grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling your head up. “Do as I say and I’ll let you cum again. I was being generous before, don’t take it for granted.”
His thrusts become more vigorous and he finds himself losing his mind in the deep, wet warmth of your walls. He uses his hold on your hair to help fuck you back into his length, slapping at your ass to encourage you to move you back against him. “That’s it. Listen to Sunghoon, baby.”
The way he spoke in third person pushed you deeper into that submissive state, the snarky comments leaving your mind, only fueled with Sunghoon. SunghoonSunghoonSunghoon. The way his thick tip brushes against your walls, feeling like he’s deeper than before is a whole new feeling of ecstasy. When he feels you becoming slack when bouncing back onto his cock, he spanks your ass, each slap becoming harder throughout time, urging you to continue. 
“Don’t get fucking lazy on me now,” he grunts, draping himself against your back, licking at your ear, laughing at the way you squirm, “Remember, this isn’t about you, is it? It’s about me. I fucking won that fight and you know it–” he punctuates his words with a deep, shallow thrust, “You know it. Bet you were praying that Jay would lose, huh? Just so I can fuck you. That’s why you’re wearing that pretty pink set, hm?”
His grip on your hair leaves, letting your head drop and you manage to find some bite into you despite the stimulated circumstances. “Do you have to mention my fucking brother when your dick is inside of me?
He cackles, right into your ear, making you wince and glare at him over your shoulder, watching the way he presses his forehead against your shoulder. “Damn,” he laughs, sitting up and pulling out, giving you another spank as he feels you gasp. “You’re funny, baby, come on. Wanna see you funny you can be when I’m fucking my cum inside of you.”
You expected him to pick you up this time, but didn’t expect to be thrown over his shoulder, spanking your ass as he walked you back inside. “Fucking love this ass,” he mutters, pressing a slopping kiss to your hip before throwing you down on the bed, “Watching it jiggle as you fucked back into me, jesus, I really wish you could have seen it. It was fucking beautiful. I’ll have to have you ride me next time.” “Next time?” You ask, lifting your body up by propping yourself on your forearms, voluntarily spreading your legs for him to accommodate him in between, wanting that full feeling back. His length was incredibly thick, slightly curved upwards, a pretty flushed colour with the tip of his cock being redder than anything else and god was it veiny. “Thought this was a one time thing?”
He rolls his eyes, grabbing at your ankles and pulling you towards him, resting your legs against his torso as he teases his tip at your entrance, biting his lip and smiling at the way your slick sticks to his length. “Changed my mind,” he breathes, slipping himself inside once more with a groan, “You feel too fucking good to let go. So tight and fuck… feels like heaven.”
He immediately sets a strong pace, bringing your legs together and bringing them to one shoulder, astonished with the way that you get somehow tighter, causing his hips to stutter and his facade to vanish momentarily before he’s leaning down. He bends you like a pretzel, keeping your legs against his shoulder, fists pressed into the mattress beside your head. “Fuck, fuck fuck,” he grunts, thrusting into your hard before pausing for a moment, leaning down and smothering his lips against yours, “If you think I’m letting you go after this, then you’re wrong. God, Jay’s going to be so pissed when he sees you cheering my name and inviting me for thanksgiving dinner, huh?”
“Don’t– fuck, don’t be weird,” you stutter out, his pace quickening once more, your hands reach up to grab ahold of his broad shoulders, knitting your brows at the way his shirt is still on. You know he looks like a greek god under there and there’s no point getting his dick if you can’t see his abs. Your hand trails down from his shoulder to his torso, gripping at the fabric and pulling it up. “Take it off. Off.”
He grunts, lifting back up and taking your legs off of his shoulder, spreading them apart and slapping your inner thigh before reaching his hand up behind him and slipping his shirt over his head. The sight before you has your eyes widening and jaw going slack. 
He’s ripped, absolutely ripped. His arms are even bigger, waist slim and abs defined. His lower abdomen has a few veins that trail down to his v-live and fuck. You have to ride him next time. 
Once the clothing is discarded, he wastes no more time as he grabs your thighs, fucking into you once more at that rapid pace, making you grip the bedsheets below you. God, his languid strokes and the way his hand grips hard onto your legs has your mind wandering. He’s so strong, so fit and the way he throws you around is foreplay itself. 
His cock continues to bully its way inside of you, fucking your womb and the thought itself makes you feral. Like he can read your thoughts, his hands grab your thighs, lifting them over his shoulders and bending down, placing you in a delicious mating press. 
“Oh, fuck-!” You groan, the change of position driving you up the wall and gripping onto his biceps tightly and digging your nails into his skin. Your eyes immediately roll to the back of your head and you’re struggling to stay coherent. “Hoon– Hoonie… Oh, my god, Hoonie!”
“Yeah, baby,” he groans in your ear, leaning down to press his face against your neck, sucking at your skin, “Call my name. Let everyone know who’s fucking you so good. Who is it baby? Tell me.”
“It’s–” you choke out, taking in a deep breath, “It’s you– you, Hoonie! You!”
“That’s right. Good girl. Taking Hoonie’s cock so well, huh?” He coos, nipping at your skin and leaving blemishes across the skin of your neck and collarbone. “All this? Mine. It’s mine now. I deserve this. I won this.”
His words go over your head, reeling in the pleasure when it’s suddenly heightened by the way he sneaks his hand down, pinching at your click before rubbing it roughly, placing an amount of pressure that has you immediately orgasming around his cock. “Oh, fuck!” You moan, back arching at the feel of his tip punching against your womb, the feel of his fingers against your clit has your mind going overboard. “Oh, god! Oh, Sunghoon!”
The feel of your walls spasming around him, causing his orgasm to quickly follow, a few hard, shallow thrusts have him spilling inside, his eyes rolling back as he groans against your neck. 
He prolongs the moment with short thrusts, wanting to keep the feeling of your walls clenched around him forever. He wants it tattooed, a photograph, anything, it just feels so good. Nirvana. Heaven. 
He keeps himself plugged inside you as you both calm down, letting your legs down and running his hands up and down your thighs. “Going to stay the night?” He murmurs, pressing kisses from your neck up to your face, pressing against your cheeks before against his lips. 
“Yeah…” you breathe, nodding your head and leaning into the kiss, “I’ll stay.” 
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✶‎ header creds: @cursed-carmine on tumblr ៸៸ ⊹
© nishirikies 2025. all rights reserved ᶻ 𝘇
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stalkedandblocked ¡ 2 days ago
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roommate!vi short fic thing
ignore any spelling mistakes kiss kiss mwah it’s 2 am
cw. modern au, college setting, pillow humping, reader is a nasty freak :P, part one maybeee
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vi and you had been living together for about two years now, both being 2nd year college students that were tired of dorms and wanted to live of campus. vi had seen your ad for a roommate, the apartment was older and on the smaller side but good and had cheap enough rent for her.
in your time living together you had grown into close friends, you had your own separated friend groups from your varying personalities but still found time on boring weekends and late nights to enjoy each others company.
these past few weeks you had seemed off to vi. for starters, you guys had been spending less time together. instead of sitting and enjoying dinner together or just being in each others presence with one of you occupying your guys’ small kitchen table with notes and textbooks while the other sat on the living room floor doing the same at the coffee table, vi had rarely seen you at all.
you had been acting jumpy and almost guilty of something. vi didn’t push on it yet. maybe it was school, work, maybe a new person had entered your life?
she had felt close to you, but maybe she thought wrong and you didn’t see her in that light. she wanted to ask why there was so much distance now, but ultimately decided not too.
little did she know you were too busy stuffing your fingers down your underwear, sniffing her boxers and dirty shirts found in the washroom. all those nights you rarely exited your room, and hurried back when you did leave was all because you couldn’t wait, couldn’t take a break from playing with your pussy to the thought of her.
the guilt of avoiding her to spend the most time you could coming your brains out to her was eating at you. but you really couldn’t stop. i mean, your just friends, she had shown no interest in you and the feelings you developed were too intense for you to ignore-
so instead of confessing or trying to get over them you stuck to her dirty laundry and rubbing your clit until you were passed out on your bed.
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tonight was one of the rare nights you decided to do something besides getting off to vi
it was around 10 at night on a saturday, you were seated on the coach, flicking through the channels while munching on cereal. vi exited her room, dressed up like she was heading out.
“woo, look at you, going anywhere?” you questioned
“mhm,” she grabbed her coat and house keys. “just for a few hours with some friends, heading to a bar for some drinks” she walked past you behind the couch, pressing her hand onto your shoulder.
“ah— have fun, i might still be up when your back” you responded
“don’t miss me too much” she joked, you laughed and flipped her the bird as she left. you turned back to the tv and sat still for a minute, like you were waiting to make sure she was gone for sure.
you dumped your bowl of cereal in the sink and with your heart pounding, walked to her bedroom door. you stood there contemplating if you should really go in there and do what you were thinking of.
as much as you knew what you were doing would ruin your relationship with if she vi found out the nasty perverted part of you didn’t care, and wanted to grind and fuck yourself onto her bed until your legs shook and your brain went fuzzy.
maybe just one orgasm, you thought as you opened the door.
vi’s room was dark as you stepped in, cold too. you wore nothing but some sleep shorts with no undies and a baggy tee, climbing onto her bed, you laid yourself down on your and slid the shorts down. your cunt hitting the cold air made you shudder. you took your time setting yourself up like this was something special.
you tried to act like you had some dignity left but shortly after could not. grabbing one of her pillows you set it between your legs, and began rocking back and forth. it was a light sensation across your pussy, each movement of your hips hitting a certain spot. until your hips lifted in the air and your clit felt the pressing feeling of the pillow on it.
that first thrust was enough to have you dripping, fuck you hadn’t thought of the mess—
whatever, i’ll deal with it later you thought out loud
as good as this felt, at this rate you weren’t gonna cum any time soon. you flipped onto your stomach, mounting the pillow. your hips rocking on it, pressing into your soaked pussy, you whined at each hilt of your hips, your grinds and thrusts grew more intense wanting to reach that high.
your hole clenched around nothing as your clit throbbed, the feeling of to little and too much made you cry out. you sat up on the pillow and worked your hips, letting out all your moans as the gradually grew louder, filling the empty apartment.
your hips ached at the pace, fucking the pillow as hard as you could, until that feeling hit you.
your body shook as you felt your orgasm coming, the sensation in your clit was almost heavenly. your pussy spasmed and with no doubt you had soaked it. your hips slowed as you kept screaming out of pleasure.
your body, tired and overstimulated flopped over onto your back. your chest rose heavily, your breathe was ragged and you tried to steady your breath. your eyes sore from how tight you were squeezing them shut and how far they rolled back while you came.
you were so lost in the pleasure you had entirely missed vi watching the unknowing performance you gave just for her.
that definitely snapped you out of your post orgasm daze. sitting up and covering yourself with the same pillow you just came on you yelped, “vi?”
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should i make a part two :D? lmk if u like and i if i should!!!!!!!! if it wasnt so late and i wasnt tired i probably would just add it here but lolz.. this was okay writing i hope 🙏 sadly i love to write and have so many ideas for fics and stuff but im mid at it
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twilightofthesandwiches ¡ 2 days ago
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It’s funny, Ralsei treats his own hope that he could defy the Prophecy by just being ‘kind enough’ as pure ridiculous naïveté, and maybe it is on some level, but also….
This is also happening in the same Chapter with the most obvious ‘reward’ for Sparing and Recruits. The one where if you’re ’just kind enough’, then that’s enough to save Actual Tenna’s Actual Life from Actual Death.
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And… in the Prophecy, he does sound pretty doomed.
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I guess saving Tenna’s life isn’t actually defying the Prophecy cause it didn’t explicitly said he’d die… but also I’m pretty sure that in the timelines where he did die folks would look at this and would be like “Oh yeah, of course his death was foretold in the prophecy, I mean that's pretty much what that says, right?”… so it still feels like something.
But… well… I think the thing is that Ralsei isn’t fully aware of all of this. He’s not aware that Tenna’s life was so dependent on his and his friends' Mercy through all of TV World. Sometimes it’s kinda hard to remember the vast amount of Perspective and Insight that Player has access to by always being able to see what could have been if they just did…
Ralsei doesn’t know about the alternate timelines, he’s not aware this Prophecy had the possibility to come true in two different ways. In timelines where Tenna died he just thinks that his death was inevitable because it was basically foretold in the Prophecy.
And in timelines where they successfully saved Tenna he might not understand how close he truly came to death and that his survival was dependent on the Recruits and therefore on the Kindness of him and his friends. He doesn’t know about the timelines where he died and what was the crucial difference between the two options.
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Like, the whole thing about Tenna’s life being dependent on the Recruitments is that he was such an exploitative and shitty boss who ruined his relationship with all of his employees, that they wouldn’t even bother to save his life if it wasn't for the sake of the Fun Gang. But in timelines where that worked, would Ralsei understand that the Darkners of TV World truly absolutely would not have helped Tenna if they hadn’t been recruited?
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Was there anything that would indicate to him how much his kindness truly mattered that day?
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the-warlock-syndicate ¡ 2 days ago
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Here is my hot take of the day, Gollum was winning.
Like, sure, he got kicked out of his village for murder, and basically exiled for being a nasty unpleasant person who loved learning secrets. But like, framed another way, I think it amazingly on brand for perhaps the most unpleasant hobbit we know of to have his greatest ambition to be like, gossip, and learning things he shouldn't. Anyways, he goes down to the roots of the mountains cause I guess secrets are really rad and nobody knows what is down there, and just kind of vibes there.
Secrets obtained. He didn't really seem to develop any new ambitions while down there, and was content to sit in a cave for 500 years. If he had any ambition, it might have been to improve his circumstances, get some luxuries. But 500 years in a cave means the bar is really low, like, on the ground with regards to his standards.
One of his character traits is that he has strong opinions about food. Its like, the only thing he actually seems to care about other than the Ring. He loves his fish, loves his rabbit, loves his baby eating, hates cooking his food, hates the elvish food, confused about potatoes.
My personal theory, is that the last ambition that he really had was to just have some nice meals. So he puts on the Ring, goes and throttles a goblin or two, and eats him. Or finds a really nice fish.
Here is the thing. Gollum doesn't need the ring for that. He is a good waterman, an excellent fisher, and can sneak up and throttle people without invisibility. What then, does the Ring offer him? How do you tempt someone who wants nothing?
Why, if he was addicted to the Ring after 500 years, did he leave it off, in a random spot in his cave for someone to pick up? He wasn't wearing it. He didn't even have it on a necklace like Frodo, which would be trivial even for Gollum.
I think Gollum had realized that it was bad for him, and was able to avoid using it, keeping it some physical distance from himself, while working up the willpower to put further distance between himself and it.
Mind you, going cold turkey was not good for his mental health, total relapse, but we see some pretty clear evidence that he was conflicted about the Ring during the story.
I think given another couple hundred years, Gollum might have been able to just walk out of the cave, and leave the Ring behind.
When you consider that Gollum is an extremely old man who's spent most of his life in solitary confinement with heroin being injected directly into his brain every day, he's really not that unreasonable
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bullet-prooflove ¡ 19 hours ago
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Dr Daddy & The Short King: Jack Abbot x Reader x Michael "Robby" Robinavitch
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Tagging: @kmc1989 @daydreamsareallineed @starstruckunknown-princess @sillymuffintrashflap @thedamnqueenofhell
Summary: Jack confronts you about the transfer at your fire station.
Companion piece to:
Together - Jack comes home to find Robby in the kitchen and you sleeping the morning away.
Pretty Girl - Jack and Robby spend a little quality time with their pretty girl.
Shift Work - Robby knows you've got something on your mind.
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“Your short king is here.” That’s what Emil tells you when he pops his head into your office with Jack in tow. You sigh as you glance up at the clock above your desk because Jack, he’s supposed to be asleep right now, resting up for his shift tonight.
“Short king? Jack asks quizzically as he steps inside your 6x9 office, pulling the glass door shut behind him.
“It means you’re silver fox with big dick energy.” You inform him, twisting in your chair as he takes a seat on the edge of your neatly made bed. He hooks his good foot around the pillar of your wheelie chair, dragging you into his proximity. “They call Robby Dr Daddy.”
“What do they call you?” Jack asks as he pulls you into his lap. Your thighs part straddling his hips, your hand reaching up to draw the blinds closed blocking out the outside world.
“Lieutenant.” You answer with a smile.
“And they’re good to you here?” He asks you, his palm coming to rest on the nape of your neck, his thumb tracing over that scar you have tucked underneath the hinge of your jaw. “They don’t make fun of you for being with me and Robby?”
“Fuck no.” You respond jerking your thumb towards the canteen where you can hear a rowdy game of gummy bear poker going on. “Eighty percent of these assholes wish they were me. The other twenty percent’s dicks haven’t worked since the 90s.”
Jack barks out a laugh, rubbing his grizzled cheek up along the column of your throat. Your fingertips comb through his curls, grasping them lightly as you tip his head back so that his whiskey eyes meet yours. “Did Robby snitch on me about the transfer? Is that why you think I’m being bullied?”
Jack’s breathing hitches, his fingers curling into your PFD t-shirt, bunching the fabric. You can feel him hardening against you and it does a little something, knowing how needy and desperate this man is for you.
“Jack.” You tut. “Do I have to punish you right here in my firehouse or can we save it for later when Robby’s available to play?”
The edges of his mouth tip up into a dry smile because it’s been a while since you’ve got a little dommy with him.
“You gotta do what you gotta do honey.” He says in that gravelly tone of his. “But before we start breaking out the whips and chains maybe you wanna give me the low down on why you wanna move out of this place and into one of the most conservative firehouses this side of the river, a place that we both know is going to make your life beyond miserable.”
“Ohh my short king’s been digging around getting intel.” You say, grinding down against his cock and he bites his lower lip to supress the low moan that rises up in his throat. “I can’t decide if that turns me on or pisses me off.”
This is what happens when you don’t feel like you can't talk to him. You deflect, try to divert the attention elsewhere because you don’t know how to cope with the emotional distance between the two of you. Robby, he never let’s that happen but Jack, he’s become complacent trying to figure his own shit out with this shift problem, he hadn’t really factored in how his lack of communication regarding the matter would be affecting you.
His arm encircles your waist before he shifts positions, trapping you underneath him.  His fingers lace through yours, pinning your hands to the mattress as he fixes you with a stern stare.
“Anna.” He says firmly, his voice a rough whisper.  “You don’t need to put on this big girl front with me right now. I get that you have a hard time communicating but we need to have a real conversation about something that’s going to effect all of us. Robby doesn’t want to see you unhappy and I don’t want to see you unhappy and this bullshit with the other firehouse, it’s going to make you unhappy-”
“Jack.” You say softly as he nuzzles his face against the hollow of your throat. “I know that you’re not happy. You think you can hide it from me but I see it and I know it’s because we’re not connecting the way that we did before I took the job here…”
You sigh, your cheek coming to rest against his, your breath ghosting in is ear. “I’m just scared that right now this threesome is in danger of going back to a twosome. You and Robby are one of the best thing that have ever happened to me and I know I’m fucking it up…”
“You aren’t fucking it up.” He promises you, planting featherlight kisses all over your pretty features. “Me and Robby, we love you so damn much and that doesn’t change just because the two of us are out of sync.”
“If I don’t transfer then we don’t get back into sync.” You tell him frankly as his palm cradles your face, guiding your gaze towards his. “There’s not really another option-”
“There is.” Jack assures you as his whiskey eyes drink you in. “One of the other attendings at the hospital is going through a divorce, he wants weekends off so he can spend them with his kids. If I do his weekends after we go to the cabin then my days off will pair with yours, I’ll have to take over his residents but Shen and Ellis are pretty good kids from what I’ve seen.”
“You’d do that?” You ask him. “Switch up your days, take up some extra responsibility, just so you can be with me?”
It galls him that you haven’t experienced that level of dedication before, that it’s such a foreign concept that you. You don’t seem to understand that Jack, he’d fight to spend time with you, the same way he’d fight to do the same for Robby.
“If trading shifts and training a couple of newbies gets me a few more nights with you then it is worth every second.” He tells you, palm smoothing away the hair that’s come loose from your ponytail. “You are a priority in my life Anna, the same way that Robby is. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you both which is why you need to promise me you aren’t going to go through with the transfer.”
Your mouth captures his and his tongue traces over the seam of your lips until you yield to him, your entire form relaxing into his.  He cradles your face between his palms as he kisses you like you were meant to be kissed, like you’re something precious, something to be loved, to be cherished.
“Promise me.” He mumbles, his fingertips untucking your t-shirt allowing his hands to roam underneath it. “Promise me and I’ll fuck you so good in this bed, you’ll be dreaming of me every night you spend in here.”
His palm kneads your breast through your sports bra, his thumb tracing over the pert nipple as his hips rock against yours.
“Jack…” You breathe and he thrusts harder so you can feel him demanding and urgent in the confines of the denim. “Fuck Jack I-”
You’re interrupted by the sound of the bells coming to life, the first alarm hollering through the entire building summoning you for duty. You groan as he rolls off you, springing to your feet like a cat as you tuck in your shirt.
“Anna.” He prompts, propping his head up on his arm. “I never got that promise.”
“No transfer.” You tell him, glancing over your shoulder as you yank open the door. “I’ll stay here, right where I belong.”
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ddarker-dreams ¡ 3 days ago
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Afterimage.
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Yan Anaxa x Reader.
Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, and imbalanced power dynamics. Word count: 1k.
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Anaxa scoffs at your resolve to prolong this stalemate. 
His attempts to get you to stop ignoring him have proven unsuccessful thus far. Nonetheless, for an academic of his caliber, persevering despite numerous setbacks is second nature. His eye devours your being, cataloging every minor reaction as he verbally pokes and prods at you. He’s tested multiple methods to get you talking. Condescension, subtle and not-so-subtle threats, and even negotiation. His methods grow more refined with each subsequent attempt. He’ll discard what didn’t work and expand upon what did. 
Through all this, you’ve learned that you may be stubborn, but so is he.
“Your petulance is losing its charm,” Anaxa remarks. 
His fingers drum along the fine wood of his desk, a habit he adopts when seriously displeased. You don’t so much as acknowledge him with a glance. Instead, you turn the page of your book, even though the contents are mostly lost on you. It’s scrawled in a foreign script, like many of the tomes in his possession. At least this one has diagrams to look at, even if they instill you with a vague sense of foreboding.
You can hear the frown in his voice when he says your name. Resolute, you act like it was nothing more than the wind. 
Your stomach turns inside out at the sound of his chair scraping, indicating that he’s getting up. He approaches in slow, steady steps, his shadow enveloping your form. Curiosity gets the better of you; you’re unable to stop yourself from sneaking a glance. He’s always had a weighty presence. His unbridled thirst for knowledge gives him an air of gravitas, demanding respect even from those who rebuke him. You’re no different. Deep down, you think you’ll always admire his intellect to some extent. It’s a sickness without a cure. 
“Shall I take this as an admission of your defeat?” he asks. His provocation has its intended effect; you scrunch up your nose and furrow your eyebrows. “No? It’s the only conclusion I can arrive at. Your vow of silence must be owing to my superiority as a rhetorician; why else would you be so hesitant to contradict me?” 
He’s trying to rile you up, you think. Don���t fall for it. For him to stoop to this level, he must be at his wits’ end…
“Come now, apologize, and all will be forgiven. Though you might be acting like one, you’re no fool. Surely you’re aware that there’s nothing to be gained from this stunt.” 
You must be getting under his skin. He never talks down to you like this, even when you ask inane questions to get on his nerves. Great professors have an infinite well of patience to draw from. He might not mince his words, but there’s no cruelty behind them, only a desire to see you learn and grow. 
You’re veering into uncharted territory. 
You pull back from your book, giving the impression that you’re considering his offer. In reality, his condescension has strengthened your determination. It took every ounce of self-control you have not to chuck this ridiculously heavy tome at him during his diatribe. Irritated or not, for him to frame it like he’s doing you a favor by offering ‘forgiveness’ is inconceivable. The room’s tension eases as you feign thoughtfulness. Then, just out of spite, you exaggeratedly flip to the next page, amplifying the sound. 
The silence that ensues is deafening. 
In a flash, your book is snatched away, putting you face to face with a seething Anaxa. 
“Twenty hours, forty minutes and thirty-two seconds,” he practically hisses out. “That’s how long I’ve entertained this folly. No more. I’ve learned my lesson — so shall you.” 
The fear written over your countenance is reflected in his burning pupil. Seeing it, he pauses, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighing. Nothing can diminish the affection he holds for you, it seems. You were never grateful for it before, but you’re clinging to it like a lifeline now. 
The wrath that struck him like lightning… you never want to witness it again. 
“You’ve been keeping track of the time, Prof?” Your voice is slightly hoarse from disuse. His eye widens slightly, then narrows, apparently not finding the comment as amusing as you do. “Are you moonlighting as a clock these days?” 
“Brazen beyond belief,” he shakes his head. “Of course, the first words you’d speak would be at my expense.” 
“Flattery may have broken me sooner.” 
He barks out a ‘hah!’ 
“I wrote verses for you before. If memory serves, you found creative uses for them.” 
You forgot about that. Admittedly, they were well-written and imbued with a cleverness only he could offer. They still ended up serving as fodder for various crafts and machinations. Origami, kindling for a fire, papier-mâché… You clear your throat. He’s still upset with you, bringing up those past endeavors isn’t in your best interest. 
“I’m sorry.” 
“No, you aren’t.” 
You shift in your seat, his antagonism making you uncomfortable. You’ve always wondered how far you could push him. It’s gratifying in a way — tormenting your tormentor. There are few outlets for your frustration that work as well. Now, however, you have to admit he was right when he said you stood to gain nothing from this. 
You hug yourself and look at the floor. “What now?” 
He goes quiet. Eventually, he takes a seat beside you and crosses his legs. Your gaze at his side profile, noting how he’s staring straight ahead instead of maintaining eye contact. That’s unusual. As if sensing your thoughts, he turns to face you, his visage unreadable. All you can discern is a faint pink hue on his cheeks. Has all this conflict gotten him flustered? That doesn’t fit the image you have of him in your head.
“There were nights where our discussions went into the morning,” he says. The yearning in his voice isn’t lost on you. “Heh. Especially when you were determined to prove me wrong about something. I’d refuse to concede, just so I could hear you a while longer.” 
You stare at him in disbelief, a faint ache rippling throughout your chest. 
 “Let’s talk, as we once did.” 
"About what?" you ask.
"Anything," he replies without hesitation. “So long as I can hear your voice… anything will suffice.”
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indecisiveavocado ¡ 2 days ago
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Another addition: that whole 'we'll all just be happy and rely on each other' is incredibly precarious if you're a minority. You sort of touched on that in your mention of bullying, but individual bullying is quite different from what I foresee--which is genocide, or, at the very least, a Very Bad Situation.
Let's take one example: Jews. (All population figures are from here, antisemitism data is here -- click on 'Measuring antisemitism global 100 score'. I don't know why they hide the data like that but they do.)
The US has the world's largest Jewish population outside of Israel. We make up about 2% of the US population. This is the highest in the world (not counting Israel, the West Bank settlements--which are de facto part of Israel and fall into roughly the same category--and Gibraltar, which is both miniscule and there is basically no data on).
We are well integrated. Even if you don't know a Jew, it's not like we're some distant Other.
We are outnumbered six-and-a-half times by people who think antisemitism is our fault.
Among 18-34-year-olds, it's eight and a half times.
We're outnumbered eight and a half times to one by people who think we have too much power in the business world -- and so if we start relying on mutual aid, what do those people think of us? That we don't need it. Among 18-34 year olds, 20% of people think we do.
There are twice as many people who think we're responsible for most wars as there are Jews. There is not a single demographic they give data on where the numbers are equal. Those numbers rise among younger people and college graduates.
In Canada, the 1% of the population that's Jewish is outnumbered fourteen times over by those who blame us for antisemitism.
Of the EU countries (with a slight discrepancy between "where they surveyed" and "where we know the numbers of Jews")--which have over 750,000 Jews--the lowest overall percentage I could find was 15% (are we responsible for most wars?). In other words, we are outnumbered at least seventy-five times there.
Relying on other people? Who?
The quarter of people in Western Europe who blame us for them hating us? The third of people in Australia and New Zealand who do likewise? The 41% of South Africans who think we're behind most of the world's wars? There are over 50,000 Jews there.
Are the 120,000 Jews in Australia going to be helped and supported in a country where a third of people think we don't care what happens to anyone but us? Are the surprisingly-large number of Jews in Azerbaijan going to be helped by the community, of whom two-thirds think they think themselves better than others? Are you going to tell the 150-600,000 Russian Jews that it's fine living in anarchy in a country where two out of five people blame you for most of the world's wars? And on, and on, and on.
Do I think this means that Jews in those countries will be genocided if there's anarchy? Probably not. But it won't be good for us.
And while those numbers may be unusually complete for Jews, I'm willing to bet they're similar for other minorities. Even when they're persecuted, the government often has some incentive not to just kill them, but mobs are rarely receptive to such arguments.
Saying anarchy will work out--maybe it will if you're privileged, if you know people like you and will come to your aid.
But if you don't?
If anarchy is just giving your would-be killers the "go ahead"?
Sufficiantley advanced mutual aid is indistinguishable from government.
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lumosflairr ¡ 3 days ago
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JUST FRIENDS - FRED WEASLEY
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Summary: You and Fred are just friends. However, you can't help but feel a tug at your heart whenever he does little things - making you question if your 'just friends.'
warnings: a pinch of angst, cussing, friends to lovers.
Word Count: 4,504
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You and Fred were just friends. Nothing less, nothing more. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. Over and over, like a charm you hoped would eventually work—because if it didn’t, you weren’t sure how much longer your heart could take it.
He did things, little things that didn’t feel exclusively friendly.
Like how he always found you in a crowded room—his eyes scanning until they landed on yours, lighting up like you were the only one worth seeing. Or how he saved you the best part of every dessert at dinner. Or when he’d throw an arm around your shoulders after a long day, fingers curling into the fabric of your robes like he didn’t even notice. Or when he’d lean in close during study sessions, reading your notes upside down, his cheek brushing yours while he made some cheeky comment that had your stomach somersaulting.
And the worst part? He never seemed to notice what it did to you.
It was the casual intimacy of it all—his easy affection, the warmth in his voice when he said your name. The way he’d ruffle your hair when you were annoyed, or hold your pinky instead of your hand when he tugged you through the busy corridors between classes. Things that shouldn’t have meant anything… but always did.
The saddest part was that you knew Fred Weasley. Almost as well as George. You knew he flirted with half the castle. You knew the not-so secret hookups he’s had with other Gryffindors and some Ravenclaws here and there. You knew he wasn’t serious about relationships with them, or maybe even anyone.
However, none of them got the quiet parts of him. The stillness behind his laughter. The worry in his eyes when you were too quiet. The way he’d wait up for you after late Prefect rounds, claiming he “just happened to be up,” even when his hair was mussed from sleep. Or maybe you just noticed far too much and overanalyzed him.
So no, you weren’t in love with Fred Weasley.
But sometimes—when he looked at you like you hung the moon—you really, really wished you were just a little better at lying.
Because whenever he does things like that, you find it even more difficult to keep pretending. Like tonight.
The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with post-Quidditch victory energy—scarlet and gold banners fluttering, laughter echoing off the walls, and butterbeer flowing in celebratory bursts. Someone had dragged a wireless from the dorms and turned the volume up, and a few people had pushed the couches aside to make room for dancing.
You sat curled into the arm of a chair, trying to keep your focus on the cup in your hands and not the way Fred Weasley moved through the room like he belonged to it—easy, magnetic, glowing with that same wild charm that made people gravitate to him without even realizing it.
Your stomach flipped when his eyes landed on you. He was still in his Quidditch gear, hair windblown and cheeks flushed from the game, but somehow he looked better like that—unpolished and completely alive.
“Hey,” he called, making a beeline for you through the crowd. “There’s a rule that says you have to dance with the winning team.”
“I think you made that up,” you replied, raising an eyebrow.
He grinned, unbothered. “I make up a lot of rules. Doesn’t mean they’re not good ones.”
Before you could protest, he was holding out his hand. And you—idiot that you were—took it.
The crowd parted just enough to let the two of you fall into step with the slow rhythm of the music. It wasn’t really dancing, not proper anyway. Just swaying in place, your hand in his, his other resting gently at your waist. But the closeness made your thoughts stumble.
He smelled like firewood and grass and a hint of cinnamon—like autumn wrapped in trouble—and he was looking at you like you were something rare.
“I told George you’d say no,” Fred murmured, tone soft enough that only you could hear it.
You tilted your head. “To what?”
“Dancing with me.”
“Why would I say no?”
His smile flickered at the edges, a little too careful. “Dunno. Just figured you might’ve had enough of me.”
You rolled your eyes to hide the way your heart skipped. “Don’t be dramatic. Why would I ever say no to you?”
He chuckled, spinning you lazily in a slow circle. “I can’t help it. It’s part of my charm.” And it was. All of it was. The humor, the warmth, the way he pulled you close without a second thought like you belonged there.
But you had to remind yourself again- just friends. Thats exactly what you were.
His eyes lingered for a second longer than usual, and his smile shifted—less mischievous, more… genuine.
“You look really nice tonight,” he said, voice quieter than before. “That color suits you. Its my favorite to be exact.”
You glanced down at the red fabric tucked neatly into your black leather skirt—nothing fancy, nothing flashy, just something that made you feel a little braver than usual. “It’s your house color,” you said with a small smirk. “Of course it’s your favorite.”
Fred tilted his head slightly, his eyes still on you. “Yeah, well… you make it look like a whole thing.”
You laughed, mostly because it was easier than letting yourself sink into the way he was looking at you. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re stunning,” he said simply, without any of the usual flair. Just that. And then he looked away like it hadn’t completely disarmed you.
“I could say the same about you,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.
His brows lifted. “What, this?” he gestured to himself—the grass-stained Quidditch uniform, his jersey untucked, pads hanging a little lopsided. “I’m literally sweating. This is me at my least impressive.”
You grinned. “That’s the sad part. You still look good.”
Fred let out a loud, theatrical gasp. “Are you—flirting with me?”
You rolled your eyes. “Relax, Weasley. It’s a compliment, not a marriage proposal.”
“Damn,” he muttered. “And here I was already planning the color scheme.”
He twirled you unexpectedly, making you laugh again as you stumbled back into his arms.
It was easy with Fred. Always had been. You danced like that for a while—slow, steady movements in the middle of a party that was growing louder by the minute. But in your little bubble, the noise faded. He asked you about your classes, groaned when you reminded him about your shared Transfiguration essay, and gave you a dramatic reenactment of how he almost died catching the last Quaffle, complete with flailing arms and fainting poses.
You rolled your eyes, but secretly you lived for these moments—when he let the silliness melt into something softer.
You talked about how much longer you had at Hogwarts, about the DA meetings, about how he and George were already plotting something “big” before they left for good.
He looked down at you as he spoke, his expression open, like he wanted you to remember this version of him—the one who wanted to be more than just a bloke who never took anything serious. The one who wasn’t laughing at the world, but sharing the laugh with you.
And you let yourself pretend, just for a moment, that you were something more.
“Oy, Weasley! Get over here, mate! We need a you!”
It was Lee Jordan, standing near a cleared table that had clearly been repurposed for an aggressively chaotic game of wizard’s Exploding Snap. George stood beside him, smirking like he’d been waiting for the perfect time to interrupt.
Fred groaned dramatically but smiled at you as he loosened his hold.
“Sorry, love,” he said, voice low and far too casual for the way your heart reacted to the nickname. “Best if i head off to Lee before i get a bludger to the head next practice.”
You forced a laugh, letting your hands fall away from him slowly, too slowly. “Wouldn’t want to deprive the common room of your talents.”
He grinned, already backing away, fingers still brushing yours until the last second. “Exactly. Sacrifices must be made.”
And then he was gone—folded back into the crowd, into the noise and the warmth and the chaos that always seemed to orbit him. Like he had never looked at you like that. Like he hadn’t just taken your breath away without even trying.
You stood there for a second, unsure what to do with yourself, before your eyes scanned the room and landed on Hermione, seated near the fireplace, a cup of punch in her hands and a knowing look already blooming on her face.
She glanced up as you walked up to her, lifting her cup slightly in greeting. “Well, you two looked cozy.”
You scoffed, too harsh, too fast. “We’re just friends.”
There was a pause—brief, but enough.
Then Hermione set her cup down and leaned forward slightly, her voice calm, like she wasn’t trying to pick a fight—just deliver the truth.
“You say that like it’s a fact,” she said softly. “But you look at him like you’ve already written a thousand love letters you’ll never send.”
“That’s quite dramatic,” you muttered, though your voice lacked bite.
Hermione didn’t respond right away. She just looked at you—really looked at you—with that frustratingly perceptive expression she wore when she was holding back something she already knew. You hated how well she could read you, even when you were trying not to be readable at all.
“I notice things,” she said quietly, as if reading your mind. “Like how you laugh before he even finishes a joke. Or how you scan a room the second you walk into it—only to relax the moment you see him.”
You stayed silent, because… well, what could you say to that?
“He touches you differently than he touches anyone else,” Hermione continued. “It’s not just friendly. He’s gentle with you. Like he’s afraid if he holds on too tightly, you’ll disappear.”
Your throat closed up. She wasn’t wrong. And that was what made it so much worse.
“I can’t…” You shook your head, struggling to find the words. “I don’t want to feel like this, Hermione.”
She frowned. “Why not?”
“Because it’s Fred,” you whispered, like saying his name too loud would unravel you. “He’s not—he’s not someone who does real feelings. He flirts with everything that moves. He jokes when he doesn’t know what else to do. He’s… impossible to pin down. He’s not the kind of boy you fall for expecting something back.”
Hermione’s voice was gentle but firm. “Maybe he’s not the kind of boy who used to do real feelings. But maybe you’re the exception.”
Your heart ached at that. It would be so much easier if you could believe it.
But you’d seen Fred with other girls. Heard the way he flirted, laughed, turned everything into a joke. And even if he was different with you, what if it was just that—different—but not more?
“You don’t get it,” you said, barely above a whisper. “If I tell him how I feel and I’m wrong, I lose him. I lose this. I lose my best friend.”
Hermione reached over and gently placed a hand on your arm. “I do get it,” she whispered, “More than you think. But you deserve to be loved out loud. And I think Fred might be a lot closer to that than you realize.”
You looked over at her, eyes stinging.
“I’m scared,” you admitted.
“I know.” Her smile was small, kind. “But just because you’re scared doesn’t mean he’s not worth the risk.”
It had been three days since the party, and you still hadn’t stopped thinking about the way Fred had looked at you or the way he spoke to you. You couldn’t stop replaying Hermiones words of affirmation she informed you of.
“You deserve to be loved out loud.”
You didn’t argue with the concept of it- no, you knew your worth. You argued with the fact it was Fred. You knew it wouldn’t be him no matter how many times you’d pray and hope just maybe- maybe he’d be the one who would shout your name from rooftops. The one who would love you out loud. You knew it was a fantasy - a fantasy that you’d have to be mad to believe would become true, because its Fred.
That led to reminding you on Hermiones other expression.
“But maybe you’re the exception.”
You didn’t believe that at all. You refused to. He must look at other girls like that right? You two were just friends. It’s what you both told everyone, so why act like theres something there?
Still, you’d kept it to yourself. Like always.
It was now time for dinner, and the Great Hall buzzed with the usual chatter. You sat across from Ron and beside Hermione, absentmindedly poking at your bangers and mash while Harry launched into yet another rant about Snape deducting points for “existing too loudly.”
“Honestly, I breathed, Hermione,” Harry said, gesturing with his fork. “And he docked me five points for being ‘aggressively present.’ What does that even mean?”
Hermione sighed, though she was clearly holding back a smile. “It means you were being annoying again.”
“He said it with fanfare,” Harry added. “Like it was the highlight of his week.”
You smiled weakly at their bickering, but your focus was slipping. It had been since the moment you caught sight of Fred down the table.
He was leaning in toward Angelina Johnson, all relaxed shoulders and easy grins, his arm casually draped behind her on her shoulder. Her hand was on his forearm—light, familiar—and he didn’t move. Didn’t shift away. If anything, he leaned closer when she said something in his ear, and he laughed—open and loud and effortless. You noticed how she looked at him.
It shouldn’t have meant anything. He and Angelina had been friends for years. Teammates. Comfortable.
But you’d always noticed the way she touched him—like she could. Like she had every right to. And she did, Fred wasn’t yours to claim.
And in the quietest, most insecure part of yourself, she had always been the reason you never said anything. Because if Fred Weasley were going to fall for someone—really fall—it would be someone like her.
Beautiful. Confident. Untouchable.
Not someone who spent the night rereading every word he said and pretending her heart didn’t race at his touch.
You looked down at your plate and tried to focus on the way your mashed potatoes were pooling into your sausage. Anything but the twisting in your chest.
“So I told him,” Harry continued, oblivious, “if he wants me to stay quiet, he can try giving me detention, but I refuse to stop breathing.”
“Very brave of you,” you muttered, your voice a little flatter than intended.
“Thank you,” Harry perked, then returning to his conversation about how ‘insufferable’ Snape was
Hermione looked over at you for a moment, quiet. You could feel her eyes on you like a weight. “You okay?” she asked softly, voice low enough that Ron and Harry wouldn’t hear.
“Perfect..” You mumbled, eyes flickering between Fred and your plate.
Hermione’s eyes followed yours, hers landing on Fred and Angelina - which she immediately caught on. “He doesn’t look at her how he looks at you though.“
“It doesn’t matter, Hermione.” You bit out, voice sounding more bitter than you intended. “I can’t keep telling myself something is there when there isn’t. I refuse to pretend that he’ll randomly wake up one morning and pick me. Because we’re friends. Just friends. And its stupid for me to pretend that theres something more lingering between us when it’s just me.”
You didn’t want to hear any of Hermione’s comforting words now- because you knew you wouldn’t believe it for a moment. Not when Fred was laughing like that, not when his hand stayed where it was, not when you felt like you were five inches shorter than usual and your chest was trying to cave in quietly while everyone else just enjoyed their dinner.
You pushed your food around and nodded along as Ron started going on about Quidditch lineups, and you told yourself—again—that it was fine. Because even though it wasn’t far from fine, you had no say in it whatsoever. You and Fred were friends. Nothing less, Nothing more.
And you had to accept that.
You told yourself you had to start pulling away.
Whatever this thing was—this not-quite friendship, not-quite something more—it was starting to hurt. It sat in your chest like weight, blooming every time he looked at you like you meant something and fading just as fast the second someone else made him laugh harder.
You started with small things. Sitting at the far end of the table. Taking longer routes to class. Turning the other way in corridors when you saw that familiar flash of ginger hair coming around the corner. You told yourself it was for the best. That you were being smart. That it was self-preservation.
But then you saw him in the halls. Again. And again. And always… she was there.
Angelina.
She wasn’t doing anything wrong, not really. She wasn’t draped over him or clinging to him in a way that demanded attention—but she was there. Lingering at his side like it was natural. Like she belonged.
And the worst part? He didn’t look like he minded. If anything, he seemed at ease—laughing at something she said, leaning in close to hear her, nudging her shoulder as they walked.
It chipped away at you slowly. Like frostbite. You didn’t even notice how cold it made you until it started to numb everything else.
So when Fred tried to talk to you—because of course he did—you gave him almost nothing in return.
“Hey, you heading to Charms?”
“Yep.”
“Mind if I walk with you?”
A shrug. “I suppose.”
He tried to joke, keep it light, keep it Fred, but you didn’t meet him halfway. Didn’t give him the usual grin or sarcasm or playfulness he was used to.
Just short answers. Polite, distant. A version of yourself you didn’t even recognize.
He looked at you a little funny when you said goodbye—like he was trying to figure out where he lost you, and whether or not he was supposed to chase after it.
“Hey,” he said, reaching out to gently catch your elbow just before you turned down the corridor. “Hold on.”
You stopped, but didn’t turn.
“You’ve been short with me,” he said, not accusing, just… confused. “Barely said more than a sentence all week.”
You shrugged, eyes fixed on the stone floor. “Busy.”
There was a pause, and then a quiet scoff. “Love, you don’t expect me to buy into that, do you?”
You finally looked at him. He looked tired in a way you weren’t used to seeing—like the mask of constant jokes and easy charm had slipped for just a moment.
But it didn’t matter. You couldn’t let it matter.
“Then don’t,” you said, voice sharper than you meant it to be.
Before he could say anything else, you turned on your heel and walked away, your footsteps echoing far too loudly in the quiet corridor.
Snow had settled thick across the rooftops of Hogsmeade, like icing on a gingerbread village. Icicles hung sharp and glinting from every overhang, and the crunch of boots on the snow-covered paths echoed softly with every step.
You were wrapped in your warmest coat, scarf snug around your neck, but the cold still bit at your fingertips through your gloves.
It was supposed to be a good day. One of the rare weekends where you could all go into the village, drink hot butterbeer, browse shops, feel normal. And for a while, it worked.
You and Harry had argued over whether the sweets at Honeydukes were superior to Zonko’s joke shop, while Ron had made it his mission to find the thickest socks in the village. Hermione kept insisting you all stop walking directly in the path of slush puddles, tugging you out of the way with narrowed eyes and half-smiles.
Eventually, the four of you ducked into the Three Broomsticks for warmth and steaming mugs of hot butterbeer. The fire crackled nearby, warming your cheeks and thawing the chill from your coat. For a moment, you let yourself settle. Let yourself pretend you weren’t avoiding anyone. That you weren’t trying to keep your heart from splitting open every time you saw Fred.
After finishing your drinks, you and Hermione wandered into a little winter shop tucked between two larger storefronts—full of knitted scarves, earmuffs, enchanted mittens that refused to get wet, and cloaks lined with soft furs and golden clasps. Hermione was flipping through a rack of deep green cloaks, going on about practicality and wool content when something over her shoulder stopped you cold.
Fred.
He was across the store, walking with George, Lee, and—of course—Angelina.
He looked good. Too good, honestly. That effortless charm about him, jacket open just enough to show his Gryffindor scarf, cheeks pink from the cold, and his hands animated as he joked with the group.
Angelina was laughing, nudging him with her shoulder. She lingered close. She always did. And as if it couldn’t get worse, Fred turned his head mid-laugh—and his eyes met yours.
Your stomach dropped.
You looked away instantly, hands fumbling with the scarf you were holding. Hermione didn’t notice at first, still explaining how she’d been needing a new cloak for weeks.
“I’m just going to pay,” you said quickly, already stepping toward the counter.
Hermione blinked. “Alright, I’ll just look at these earmuffs—”
“No,” you said too quickly, too firmly. “Actually, why don’t you go ahead to that bookshop you mentioned earlier? I think I’m just going to take a walk.”
She gave you a look. “You sure?”
You nodded, offering a smile that was tight and definitely not convincing. “Yeah. Just… need a bit of air.”
And then you were gone. You didn’t even remember what you bought. You just needed to not be there. Not see him. Not feel that crushing ache rise every time you remembered all the things you could never say. It had been weeks since you spoke with him, but it felt just like yesterday. Too soon. Too early.
After you turned the corner, you let out a shaky sigh. Due to the cold and your heart’s pounding within your chest.
Before you could even think, a hand grabbed your arm—firm, urgent—and before you could react, you were pulled into the narrow alleyway between two shops, boots scraping against packed snow, your heart thrashing in your chest.
“What the—let go of me!” You slapped wildly at the arm until the grip loosened.
“Oi, alright—bloody hell—stop hitting me!”
You froze, your hand dropping mid-swing.
“Fred?”
He stepped back, holding his hands up, breathing hard. “Hi.”
“Are you bloody mad?!” you snapped, your voice sharp, angry, and very much covering the panic and heartbreak roiling underneath. “You don’t just drag people into dark alleyways!”
“I had to talk to you!”
“There’s this thing called speaking like a normal person, Fred!”
He ran a hand through his hair, flushed, snow catching in his lashes. “You haven’t been speaking to me at all. It’s been fuckin’ weeks.”
You folded your arms. “I’ve been busy.”
“Don’t.” His voice cracked a little—just enough to silence you. “Don’t give me that. You’ve barely looked at me in weeks. You won’t sit near me, won’t talk to me, you disappear when I walk in the room. It’s like I’ve done something awful and you won’t even tell me what it is.”
Your throat tightened.
Fred took a shaky breath and kept going.
“I miss you,” he said, voice raw and exposed. “I miss everything. I miss your laugh in the common room, how you always threaten to hex me whenever i steal your homework, I miss your smile. I miss knowing you’ll be there when I look up. I miss… you.”
You looked away, but he stepped closer.
“And I don’t get it,” he said, eyes searching yours. “What did I do? Did I screw something up? Did I say something? Just—just tell me, and I’ll fix it. Just—don’t leave me like this.”
You swallowed thickly, heart racing. And then—
“I’m in love with you.”
Fred froze.
Your words had sliced through the cold air like a blade, sudden and shaking.
“I’m in love with you,” you said again, more quietly this time. “And I’ve been trying to pretend I’m not, but it’s exhausting, Fred. And it hurts. It hurts to see you with her, even if there’s nothing going on. Even if she’s just your friend. Because I’m not just your friend. Not anymore. Not in my head.”
His mouth parted like he wanted to speak, but you didn’t let him.
“You always made me feel like maybe… maybe there was something there. And I held onto that. Every time you looked at me like I mattered. Every time you made me laugh when I wanted to cry. I thought maybe… just maybe you saw me the way I saw you.”
You shook your head, voice cracking.
“But then she’s always there, and you never push her away, and I know it’s stupid, but I thought—I thought if I got some distance, I’d stop hurting. But it didn’t work. It just made everything worse.”
Silence. Thick. Cold. Endless.
And then Fred moved.
He stepped forward, cupped your face in his hands, and kissed you.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t clumsy or desperate. It was gentle. Like something he’d been carrying for far too long, and could finally let go.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, breath trembling.
“It was always you,” he whispered. “It’s always been you. I don’t know how you didn’t see it. I flirted with half the castle just to hide how badly I wanted you. Because I was terrified of scaring you off. Terrified of making you uncomfortable. Terrified that if I wanted you too loudly, I’d lose you completely.”
You blinked up at him, tears brimming, your chest aching in that awful, beautiful way when hope finally claws its way through.
“I don’t want anyone else,” he said. “You’re not some backup plan. You’re not some secret I was waiting to get over. You are—you’ve always been—the only one I’ve ever wanted.”
His voice shook now.
“And if you give me even half a chance, I swear I’ll never let you wonder again.”
Your hands gripped the front of his coat. “Fred Weasley—if you walk away after saying all that, I’m hexing you.”
He grinned—really grinned—and kissed you again. The snow kept falling, yet the cold didn’t touch you.
And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you had to lie to yourself anymore.
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kdh-tally ¡ 16 hours ago
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Heyooo! I just wanted to say thank you so much for doing my Miromabby headcanon request. I absolutely loved it! 🥹💖
Sooo I have another idea I’d love to share. I’m not sure if anyone’s ever thought of this before, but… what if there were sasaengs but they’re demons, who are dangerously obsessed with the Huntrix? Like, full-on stalking and even attempting to kidnap them because of their twisted fan infatuation. It starts to genuinely scare or annoy the girls.
How would the Saja boys react to this? What would they do if they witnessed a Huntrix being targeted or kidnapped right in front of them?
Huntr/x Struggling with Demon Sasaengs
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Prompt : A few demons seemed to have grown too fond of Huntr/x
Author's Note : I feel like i've been writing so much angsty stuff lmao but I love it ;P I enjoyed writing this one though and have more ideas for a possible part 2!! And you are so welcome for the Miromabby request <333 I love them so much.
The Fan Isn’t Human
It started with flowers.
Zoey thought they were from a fan who worked at the florist near their company, but the same exact bouquet, red lilies wrapped in black silk, showed up five days in a row. Then at night. Then directly at the door of their penthouse.
She didn’t say anything at first. Told herself it was just a persistent fan with no sense of boundaries. But then one of her old training photos, one she had never posted, was pinned between the petals.
There was no return address. No obvious form of identification. Just a disturbing aura around each gift.
Rumi tore hers in half the second she saw it and dumped it in the trash. She didn’t let sasaengs get to her, not anymore. They had dealt with this before. She made Bobby tighten security around both the penthouse and company dorms.
Mira had laughed at hers, brushing it off. She wasn’t the type to get scared, and she hated seeing the other girls so shaken. The girls were trained and powerful hunters. Who would dare come against them?
That changed the night a package appeared inside their living room. It was wrapped in black thread. Filled with photos taken without their knowledge. Images of them sleeping, training, eating. Some from inside the dorm.
Their penthouse was supposed to be locked down.
They started locking the windows.
–
Baby was the first to piece things together.
He saw Rumi getting quieter. Zoey’s excitement felt more like forced energy. Mira had started glancing behind her even when no one was there.
At first, he thought it was just comeback pressure. But that changed the night he came back from a snack run and saw it in the elevator. A sigil etched faintly into the steel panel.
It was traced in so lightly that he almost didn’t notice it. It was old demon magic, and carved into the center were all three of their names.
He took a photo and showed it to the boys the next morning.
“They’re demons,” Baby said. “Pureblood and obsessive. They’re feeding off the girl’s energy.”
Mystery leaned over his shoulder. “Do the girls know?”
“They’ll think it’s sasaeng fans,” Jinu muttered, pacing. “They’d never expect actual demons.”
Romance zoomed in on the image, jaw tight. “They’re targeting all three. And they’re getting bolder.”
–
It happened two days later.
Mira had wrapped up her solo recording early. She told staff she’d walk back alone—it was only ten minutes. She wore her hood up, Takedown blasting through her headphones, eyes trained on the ground.
The first one stepped out of an alley halfway home. He wore a Huntrix hoodie and smiled in a way she didn’t like. He had a familiar face. Maybe someone from a fan call.
She hesitantly raised her hand in greeting.
Then two more appeared behind her.
Then the chanting started.
Her gut dropped. She moved fast, dropping her bag and summoning her guandao in one motion. The magic of the Honmoon burst around her in a burst, but it didn’t push them back.
Why weren’t they weakening?
“You belong to us,” one of them said. “We’ve been watching. Waiting. You shine so beautifully.”
“Try me,” Mira sneered.
They lunged.
She fought them off fast and defensive. They didn’t try to kill her. They kept reaching for her, grabbing. One of them nearly clipped her arm. Her blade sliced clean through another’s sleeve, but he didn’t seem hurt. 
Her breathing hitched. Her footing slipped.
And then heat slammed into the alley.
Abby landed hard beside her, flames curling around his fists. The air shifted, warped by magic. His voice was sharp.
“You seriously thought you could touch her and walk away?”
The demons hissed, retreating into the shadows. But before they vanished completely, one of them locked eyes with Abby.
“We’ll try again.”
–
They relocated to Bobby’s beach house. No one outside the two groups knew they were there. The girls sat at the kitchen table in silence. Mira’s arm was bandaged. Zoey hadn’t spoken much all night. Rumi kept glancing at the door, her knee bouncing anxiously as though waiting for someone to burst in.
“You’re being watched,” Jinu said.
“We’re fine,” Mira answered, but her voice wavered.
Jinu didn’t move. “You don’t have to lie.”
Baby leaned against the fridge, arms crossed. “There was a sigil in your penthouse. An enchanted one. It’s ancient. They’re not just stalking you. They’re trying to bond themselves to you.”
“Fans who turned into demons?” Rumi asked.
“Worse,” Abby said. “They’re demons who became fans.”
Zoey curled tighter on the counter. “I thought we were done with demons.”
“We’ve dealt with enemies before,” Mira said. “Gwi-ma, cursed letters, blackmail—”
“But this?” Rumi asked. “This feels different.”
“The Honmoon doesn’t even affect them. It’s like they’re resistant to our weapons” Mira mumbled, remembering how none of the demons dispersed even after she attacked them.
“They’re not trying to hurt you,” Romance said, entering the room. “They’re trying to own you. All of you.”
“So what are we supposed to do?” Rumi asked.
Jinu answered before anyone else could.
“You don’t do anything,” he said. “We do.”
The waves outside were loud enough to fill the silence.
Everyone had filtered out of the kitchen, Mystery the last, quiet and unreadable. Only two of the girls remained. Zoey hadn’t moved from the counter. Rumi was sitting on the floor, her back against the cabinets, arms resting on her knees.
Neither of them spoke for a while.
Zoey exhaled slowly, her head tipped against the cupboard behind her. “I can’t stop thinking about that picture,” she said.
Rumi looked up.
“The one in the flowers,” Zoey explained. “The photo of me from trainee days. That was taken through the dorm window. My blinds were half shut. I remember that night.”
She shook her head. “I was lying on the floor, doing stretches and watching a c-drama. I wasn’t doing anything special. But they were there. Watching.”
Zoey pulled her sleeves over her hands. “I know sasaengs are always intense, but this is different. They’re not after our time or attention. They don’t want photos. They want us. Like, actually take us.”
Rumi’s fingers tapped against her leg. She let the girl ramble. They both needed this.
Zoey went on, more quietly now. “I don’t know what’s worse. That they’re demons, or that they act exactly like the humans we’ve been trying to ignore.”
There was another pause. Rumi finally leaned her head back against the cabinet.
“I always thought I could handle this stuff,” she said. “Sasaengs. Obsession. Jealousy. Whatever came with the job. I’ve always thought I could handle myself.”
Zoey nodded. She knew that about Rumi. They all did.
“But this?” Rumi’s voice lowered. “They got into our home. They left that box on our couch. We were just sitting there hours before. Laughing. Eating.”
Zoey didn’t respond. She didn’t need to.
“I hate that I felt scared,” Rumi said. “I hate that they’re going to keep trying, even with the boys watching.” She wasn’t angry, just tired.
Zoey looked at her.
“They won’t get us though,” Rumi said, finally meeting her eyes. “No matter how many flowers they send or how many spells they chant. They don’t get to have us.”
Zoey nodded, slowly. “Okay.”
They didn’t say anything else for a while. They just stayed in the kitchen, listening to the sound of waves crashing against the shore.
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cocoa-dile ¡ 3 days ago
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Would they really stay with you if you asked for a few more minutes in bed? (TWST)
With every student except for Ortho :)
Next post will be another Sebek Zigvolt I think, except headcanons this time around :)
Warnings / Notes: Complete fluff, OOC for everyone to differing degrees, gn! reader, reference to the menstrual cycle in Jack's (but only as a hypothetical situation, nothing detailed or anything like that), my second time writing anything fan fic related (:O), all just for fun and not meant to be taken super seriously. If you have any feedback, please leave it in the comments down below, as well as any requests (which can also be done by clicking the "requests" button on my profile)! I'm also sure that this isn't a unique idea, I think I've seen it done by a few other much more skilled writers so I encourage you to find theirs if you enjoy mine at all :)
Not proofread! I apologize in advance for any mistakes, if there's anything you think needs to be fixed just let me know. Also you would think that because each one is just a few sentences long this would've taken like maybe an hour at most but no this took wayyy too long for what it is
Relationship between reader and character is romantic
Heartslaybul
Riddle: No, probably not. He might let you stay in bed for a couple more minutes as he gets ready for the day, but he probably won't be staying in bed with you - he has a schedule to follow, after all! Riddle has been working more on being a bit lax with following rules, so I think as time goes on you might get lucky, but be patient with him.
Deuce: Ace and Deuce are probably pretty similar here - Deuce would stay in bed with you unless you both overslept already and will be late to class if you stay in bed any longer. Unless he thinks Riddle will get on him or the both of you for staying in bed or waking up late, he'll gladly stay under the covers.
Ace: Yes, most likely. Unless the both of you overslept horrifically, he'll probably want to sleep or be close to you for a couple more minutes anyway. I feel like Ace is the type of person who will continuously push the snooze button on the alarm clock at least 3 times.
Cater: Cater is likely to say yes to this I think, he'd appreciate the time and attention. He likes it when there's some quiet time with just the two of you, where he doesn't have to pretend and can just relax next to you.
Trey: Bakers get up really early so I think out of habit he's up with the sun. On top of that, as vice housewarden to Heartslaybul, he has a lot to take care of. Trey might be willing to spare a few minutes, but if he's got some baking to do or tensions to smooth over he won't be sleeping in. He'd love to make it up to you with some extra time together or a treat that he made special for you.
Savanaclaw
Leona: I feel like this one is so obvious it's not even a question. Yes, he would absolutely stay in the bed for extra sleep or cuddle time. In many cases, he's probably the one asking you.
Jack: I think this is another probably not, leaning towards a maybe. Jack has been shown to highly value his schedule, and takes his time very seriously - maybe if you're still in bed by the time he's done he'll join you again, but I think he would remain a bit steadfast with his "it's time to get up" and "it's time to go to bed". I do think there would be some circumstances that this wouldn't be the case - if you're going through your menstrual cycle (if you have one), if you just need a bit of support or have had a rough couple of days, etc. I think that Jack would highly value the time he spends with his S/O, and wants to be there when you need him.
Ruggie: As long as he doesn't have something to deal with in relation to Leona, I think he probably would. Ruggie seems like someone who has quite a bit on his hands, but if you're his S/O I think that even those small moments and time that you can steal away for each other is really important to him.
Octavinelle
Azul: Probably yes. I think part of the requirements to be Azul's S/O is that he needs to feel comfortable with being vulnerable with you, and even enjoy that vulnerability. Cuddling / sleeping together is one of those activities that creates that feeling of gentle care and love that he really appreciates and makes him feel safe. If it's too late, however, I think he would want to get up - he has business to handle, and Jade and Floyd aren't always the most reliable.
Jade: In most cases, yes, but if it's a day where he plans on going up to the mountain early or has to handle the Lounge, he's off (in some cases maybe even before you wake up).
Floyd: Depends on how he's feeling, but most likely yes. I don't think he really cares about being on time for the Mostro Lounge, and everything else is probably background noise for him. Floyd would probably hold you down in the bed with him as you attempted to escape because he likes feeling you squirm around.
Scarabia
Kalim: Yes, he absolutely would. Kalim is a ball of sunshine who's head over heels for you and is willing to do anything to make you happy. If just a few more minutes in bed is enough, who is he to say no?
Jamil: Jamil has a high level of responsibility within Scarabia, so I imagine that he's another one who has to get up on time and get to work. However, I think that when the stress is getting particularly bad he'd fold and stay with you for a bit before going back to his duties.
Pomefiore
Vil: I'm kind of conflicted on Vil to be honest, on the one hand I think he would value his beauty sleep and a few more minutes couldn't hurt but on the other I feel like he's another person whose pretty particular about when he wakes up, when he does his skin, hair, etc. For Vil, it might be more of a case-by-case basis like with Jack - if you need him, he's there, and if he needs a few more minutes with you, he'd hope that you'd stay for him in turn.
Epel: Another yes, I think Epel would really like doing this sort of thing with you because he likes the idea of being the chivalrous boyfriend who does whatever his S/O asks of him. It makes him feel reassured in his relationship and like you know you can count on him.
Rook: You wouldn't even have to ask, he's already woken up before you and has enjoyed admiring your features. A few more minutes marveling at your beauty surely wouldn't hurt.
Ignihyde
Idia: Most likely, yes. He doesn't leave his room for classes anyway, so unless it's for a super big event going on in one of his video games I think he'd be happy to spend some more time with you. He's touch starved and wants to be near you, so what's the harm in a few more minutes anyway?
Diasomnia
Malleus: Yes, absolutely. My personal bias is definitely going to slip out here, but I really do love the headcanon that Malleus will follow the traits typically associated with dragons, such as being possessive, enjoying collecting things (particularly shiny things), etc. Another common trait many people accept with dragons is that they enjoy being either on top of or very near their hoard. As his S/O, you are incredibly important to Malleus - the most important shiny thing, if you will. Similar to Idia, Malleus is touch starved and wants to be given affection and attention from you specifically. To Malleus, a few minutes is truly nothing in the grand scheme of things.
Silver: Yes, probably. He'd probably end up falling asleep again anyway, so it's good that you're there with him. He doesn't mind a few extra minutes with his beloved, even if Sebek gets on him for being a little bit late to patrol.
Sebek: As much as I absolutely love Sebek, I really don't think so. You might be able to seduce him back under the covers when it's cold out (given that crocodiles are cold blooded creatures, and you're assumedly much warmer than he is), but usually, he stays pretty rigid with his routine. Wake up on time, morning routine with his skin and fixing his hair, and then take care of Malleus. I think he'd make it up to you with some quiet time together, but I doubt that he'd allow himself to sleep in at all.
Lilia: Yes, because I don't think this old man really cares anymore. Nowhere that he needs to be comes before you, and like with Malleus, a few minutes really isn't anything anymore.
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wonbyyou ¡ 2 days ago
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Just finished reading both the parts of pornstar!sunghoon and the thoughts that i'm thinking rn would get me banished from breathing oxygen like i NEED A PART 3 WHICH IS EVEN MORE MASTY so fcking bad (im literally in love with ur work) i deadass have goosebumps all over 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻
AHHH stop, you're so kind! i'm so happy you enjoy my writing and thank you so much for this ask. i didn't think i'd continue this but i'll do it just for you. i hope you'll enjoy this and hopefully it's met your expectations, thank you so much once again.
read part one and two
-
You were toweling off damp hair, the phantom ache between your thighs a delicious reminder of last night’s impromptu visit to Sunghoon's penthouse—hours of unscripted, raw fucking that left you boneless and buzzing. The knock on the door startled you.
"Sunghoon?" you called, hoping it was him returning for another round before your next call time.
The door opened. It wasn't Sunghoon. Marco, the director, stood there, headset already on, clipboard in hand, eyes gleaming with a predatory excitement you knew spelled something intense.
"Change of plans, gorgeous," he announced, stepping inside without waiting. "The investors saw dailies from the professor scene. They want... more. Much more. Specifically, they want Sunghoon and Jay." Your stomach did a slow flip.
Jay Park.
Another industry heavyweight, known for his sculpted physique, sharp jawline, and a charisma that dripped charm—a stark contrast to Sunghoon’s brooding intensity. Jay specialized in scenes with a touch of tenderness, a whisper of romance amidst the filth. He was popular, polished, and utterly dangerous in a different way.
The thought of being sandwiched between them? It was terrifying and electrifying.
"Double penetration," Marco confirmed, seeing the understanding dawn on your face. "No script. Just raw. Sunghoon taking your ass, Jay filling your pussy. We’re rolling in twenty. Wardrobe has the… minimal attire ready." He gave your bare shoulder a brief, impersonal squeeze. "Get ready for the ride of your life."
Set 3 was transformed. Gone was the faux-professor’s study. Instead, a low, wide platform covered in black vinyl dominated the space, surrounded by cameras on dollies, booms, and rigs. Harsh, hot lights beat down. And there they were.
Sunghoon leaned against a metal support beam, dressed only in low-slung black briefs that did nothing to hide the formidable bulge already tenting the fabric. His arms were crossed, his expression a carefully controlled mask, but his eyes… his eyes burned with a dark, simmering intensity as they tracked you entering the set.
Jay, beside him in similar briefs (navy blue), flashed you a dazzling, easy smile. He was broader than Sunghoon, shoulders like a swimmer, tattoos snaking down one arm. Where Sunghoon radiated contained fire, Jay exuded relaxed confidence.
"Hey, beautiful," Jay greeted, his voice smooth and warm. "Ready to make some magic?" He winked.
Sunghoon didn't speak. His gaze slid from you to Jay, and you saw the muscle flexing in his jaw. Jealousy? Possessiveness? It flickered, dark and undeniable.
"Okay, people!" Marco’s voice crackled through the overhead speakers. "Let’s get primal. Positions. Sunghoon, you’re behind, taking ass. Jay, front, pussy. Get her on her knees center stage." Crew members descended, positioning mats, adjusting microphones taped discreetly near your hips.
The vinyl platform felt cold and unforgiving under your knees. Jay knelt gracefully in front of you, his warm hands settling gently on your hips. Sunghoon moved behind you, his presence looming, radiating heat. His hands landed on your ass cheeks, not gently. They gripped hard, spreading you wide open, exposing you completely to the hot lights and hungry lenses.
Marco’s voice was a low, insistent guide: "Camera A tight on the penetration prep. Camera B, catch Sunghoon’s expression. Camera C, wide shot capturing all three."
Jay leaned forward, his breath warm on your neck. "Easy, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, meant only for you. "Just relax for me." One hand slid down your belly, fingers dipping between your legs to find your clit.
He rubbed slow, expert circles. "So wet already," he praised softly. "So perfect." His touch was deliberate, sensual, coaxing arousal despite your nerves. He kissed the sensitive spot behind your ear, his lips soft. "That’s it. Open up for me."
Behind you, Sunghoon scoffed, low and harsh. His fingers, slicked with lube, pressed against your tight asshole without preamble. There was no gentle coaxing, only blunt pressure.
"Quit coddling her, Jay," Sunghoon growled, his voice thick with contempt. "She’s not your fucking prom date." His finger breached your asshole with a rough push, making you gasp and tense against Jay’s gentle ministrations.
"She’s just holes to be filled. Filthy little holes." His other hand slapped your ass cheek hard, the sharp crack echoing. "Aren’t you?" He punctuated the question by pushing a second finger into your ass alongside the first, stretching you brutally.
Jay’s touch on your clit never faltered, though his gaze flickered to Sunghoon with a hint of annoyance. "Different styles, brother," Jay said calmly, but his eyes held a challenge. He kissed your shoulder blade. "Just breathe through it, honey. You're doing amazing."
Sunghoon’s jealousy was a living thing now, crackling in the air. He leaned over your back, his chest pressing hard against your spine.
"Amazing?" he snarled near your ear, his breath hot. "Look at her trembling. Look at her asshole clenching like a scared virgin." He withdrew his fingers only to slap your ass again, harder.
"She needs to be used, not sweet-talked." His hand grabbed your hair, yanking your head back sharply. Marco barked: "Hold that shot! Camera A, tight on her face!"
Sunghoon’s eyes bored into yours, dark and furious. "You love this, don’t you?" he hissed, his voice venomous. "Love being degraded? Love being the filthy little whore sandwiched between us?"
He didn’t wait for an answer. His mouth crashed down onto yours. It wasn't a kiss; it was an assault. His tongue plunged deep, claiming, dominating. And then his teeth sank into your lower lip—hard, punishing. Pain flared bright and sharp. You tasted copper, warm and metallic. Blood.
He pulled back slightly, a smear of red on his own lips. His eyes, blazing with possessive fury, locked onto yours. Then, slowly, deliberately, he leaned in again and licked the blood from your swollen, stinging lip.
The intimacy of it, the raw brutality mixed with that obscene gesture, sent a shockwave of pure, terrifying arousal straight to your core. You moaned against his mouth, the sound muffled, helpless.
Sunghoon chuckled darkly, a sound vibrating against your lips. "See? Filthy little thing gets off on pain." He released your hair and straightened up. "Enough foreplay. Fuck her."
Jay, who had watched the violent kiss with narrowed eyes, nodded curtly. His easy charm was replaced by a focused intensity. "Alright, sweetheart," he murmured, positioning himself. Jay moved under you, his hands finding your hips as he pushed his cock against your entrance. You placed your hands on either side of his head. His cock, thick and impressive, nudged your soaked folds.
"Deep breath." He pushed in smoothly, filling your pussy with a deep, stretching pressure that made you cry out. He groaned low in his throat.
"Fuck, you feel incredible. So tight, so hot." He began moving with deep, controlled strokes, setting a steady rhythm. His hands slid back to your hips, holding you firmly but without Sunghoon’s bruising force. He leaned up, kissing your shoulder again, murmuring praise: "Taking me so deep... good girl... perfect fucking pussy..."
Behind you, Sunghoon spat onto his palm and slicked his massive cock. The tip, broad and intimidating, pressed against your tight, resisting asshole. There was no gentleness, no easing in.
With a grunt of effort, he pushed. The invasion was agonizing—a searing stretch that felt like being split apart. You screamed, a raw, ragged sound muffled by the vinyl platform. Jay’s thrusts faltered for a second.
"Keep fucking her, Jay!" Sunghoon commanded, his voice strained with the effort of forcing himself inside your clenching passage. "She needs to feel both of us!" He pushed relentlessly, inch by excruciating inch, until he was fully sheathed in your ass, his hips flush against your ass cheeks.
The feeling was overwhelming—impossibly full, stretched beyond belief, pinned between two enormous cocks moving in opposite rhythms. Jay’s deep strokes in your pussy, Sunghoon’s brutal, shallow grinding in your ass.
Sunghoon leaned forward again, his breath hot and ragged on your neck. "Look at you," he snarled, his hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. "Impaled. Filled in both holes like the greedy slut you are."
He pulled back slightly before thrusting hard into your ass, making your whole body jerk forward onto Jay’s cock. "Feel him?" Sunghoon growled, grinding deep. "Feel him fucking your cunt while I wreck your ass? This what you wanted? Being our favorite little fuckdoll?"
His degradation was relentless, filthy, a counterpoint to Jay’s murmured praises. "Look at her take it," Sunghoon snarled, seemingly to Jay or the cameras or himself. "Look at her ass swallowing my cock whole. Look at her pussy dripping all over Jay’s. Fucking obscene." He slapped your ass again. "Tell them how much you love it. Tell them how much you love being split open."
The sensations were blinding. The profound stretch, the relentless friction, the conflicting touches—Jay’s gentle kisses on your shoulder blades, Sunghoon’s bruising grip and degrading words. Pain bled into pleasure, humiliation stoked the fire in your belly. You couldn't form words, only broken cries and desperate moans escaped your bloodied lips.
"Camera D, get the overhead!" Marco directed. "Sunghoon, pull out halfway... now thrust hard! Jay, deeper! I want to see her stretched! Hold it!"
Sunghoon obeyed, withdrawing until only the thick head remained inside your clenching asshole before slamming back in with brutal force. Jay buried himself to the hilt at the same moment. The dual penetration sent a shockwave through you.
Your vision blurred. You felt yourself hovering on the precipice of an impossible orgasm, suspended between agony and ecstasy, between Jay’s unexpected affection and Sunghoon’s savage jealousy.
Sunghoon noticed. His hand slid around your hip, fingers finding your swollen clit. He didn't rub gently like Jay might. He pressed down hard, grinding the sensitive nub with rough circles. "Feel that?" he rasped against your ear. "Feel how hard you're gonna come? Gonna make you cream Jay’s cock while I’m buried in your ass. Gonna make you scream for us both."
His fingers worked ruthlessly, perfectly timed with Jay’s deep strokes and his own shallow, grinding thrusts. The pressure became unbearable. You couldn't hold back.
A raw, guttural scream tore from your throat as an orgasm detonated—a cataclysm of pure sensation ripping through your entire body. Your pussy clenched violently around Jay’s cock, milking it in frantic spasms. Your ass fluttered wildly around Sunghoon’s buried length.
"FUCK!" Jay roared, his rhythm breaking as your violent contractions pulled his orgasm from him. He slammed deep and held, his cock pulsing hot jets inside you. "Oh god... yes!"
Sunghoon felt Jay’s release, felt your ass spasm around him. With a final, brutal thrust that shoved you hard onto Jay’s softening cock, he buried himself deep and came with a groan that sounded almost pained. Hot spurts flooded your ass, adding to the overwhelming mess.
They stayed buried inside you for long moments, all three bodies slick with sweat and trembling, the air thick with the scent of sex and exertion. Jay slowly withdrew from your pussy, breathing heavily, a look of stunned satisfaction on his face.
He leaned up and pressed a soft, almost tender kiss to your sweaty temple. "Incredible," he murmured, his thumb brushing your cheekbone near the split lip.
Sunghoon pulled out of your ass with a slick, obscene sound. He didn't look at Jay. His eyes, dark and unreadable, locked onto yours. There was no tenderness in his gaze, only a smoldering intensity that hadn't diminished. He reached out with surprising gentleness, swiping his thumb through the drying blood on your lower lip.
He didn't say a word. He just stared, breathing hard, his expression a storm of jealousy, possessiveness, and something darker you couldn't name. The silence stretched, heavy with unsaid things and the promise of further reckoning. Marco’s "Cut! Fucking masterpiece!" seemed distant, unimportant against the electric tension crackling between you and Sunghoon.
The director’s ecstatic praise faded into white noise as you peeled yourself off the sticky vinyl stage. Every muscle screamed, your ass throbbed with a deep, residual ache, and your lower lip pulsed where Sunghoon’s teeth had broken the skin.
But the most profound ache was deeper—a raw, hollow pang centered squarely in your chest, mirroring the dark storm in Sunghoon’s eyes as he’d stared at you before turning sharply and striding off set without a backward glance. Jay offered a towel and a soft, concerned look. "You okay? He was... intense."
"Yeah," you managed, your voice rough. "Just part of the job." But it hadn’t felt like a job when Sunghoon licked your blood. Jay helped you stand, his touch gentle, supportive. It only made the gnawing feeling worse. You needed to see Sunghoon.
His dressing room door was ajar. You pushed it open without knocking. He stood shirtless by the sink, scrubbing his hands violently, water sluicing over corded forearms.
His reflection in the mirror was granite—jaw clenched, shoulders rigid, eyes fixed on the swirling water with a terrifying blankness that wasn’t blank at all. The air crackled with unspent fury.
"You should go," he said, his voice low and dangerously flat, not looking at you. "Get cleaned up."
Instead, you stepped inside, closing the door softly behind you. The small room smelled like his soap, his sweat, and the faint metallic tang of your own blood that must still be on his mouth. "Sunghoon."
He turned then, slowly. Water dripped from his clenched fists onto the tile floor. His gaze raked over you—the towel clutched around you doing little to hide your battered state: the blooming bruises on your hips from his grip, the vivid bite mark on your lip, the general aura of being thoroughly used. A muscle jumped in his jaw.
"What do you want? A gold star? You got it. You took it like a champ. Now leave." The dismissal was a lash.
You took another step closer, ignoring the tremor in your legs. "Why are you so angry?"
He barked a harsh, humorless laugh. "Angry? I’m not angry. I’m working." He turned back to the sink, bracing his hands on the edge, knuckles white. "That’s what we do, right? Fuck on command. Doesn’t matter who. Doesn’t matter how." He spat the last word.
"It mattered how he touched me," you said quietly. The accusation hung in the air.
Sunghoon went utterly still. Then he pivoted, the movement swift and predatory. He crossed the small space in two strides, stopping inches from you. The heat radiating off him was immense. His eyes, dark and burning, searched yours, then flickered down to your split lip.
"Mattered?" he echoed, his voice dropping to a menacing rasp.
"Seeing him paw at you? Whisper his bullshit sweet nothings in your ear while you spread for him? Seeing you respond?" He raised a hand, his thumb hovering near your injured lip but not touching it. His gaze was pure fire.
"Reckon you enjoyed all that sweet talking, didn’t you? All that ‘good girl’ shit while he buried himself in my cunt?" The vulgarity was deliberate, brutal.
His jealousy wasn't just implied anymore; it was a physical force pressing against you, thick and suffocating. It ignited something equally fierce within you—a reckless need to provoke him further, to feel that raw possession again, consequences be damned.
"Maybe I did," you breathed, meeting his furious gaze head-on. "Maybe I liked how different it felt."
Something savage snapped in Sunghoon’s eyes. A low growl rumbled in his chest. "Different?" He grabbed your chin, his grip firm but not punishing—yet. His thumb brushed roughly over your swollen lip, making you wince.
"This is what you like," he hissed. "The bite. The bruise. Being claimed." His other hand shot out, snaking behind your neck and fisting in your hair, yanking your head back sharply, exposing your throat. "Not his fucking pet names." He leaned down, his breath hot on your skin, lips brushing the frantic pulse beating at the base of your throat. "Mine." The word was a vow and a threat.
He didn't wait for an answer. His mouth crashed down onto yours. It was nothing like the violent assault on set. This kiss was all-consuming desperation, a furious claiming that stole your breath. He licked into your mouth, tasting blood and himself and the lingering salt of exertion.
His hand in your hair kept you immobile as he plundered, his other hand ripping away the flimsy towel with one sharp tug. You were bare before him, marked and trembling.
He broke the kiss only to lift you effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively as he carried you the few steps to the worn vinyl couch shoved against the wall. He didn't lay you down gently.
He dropped you onto it and was on you before you could bounce, his body covering yours completely, pinning you beneath his heat and weight. His knee forced your thighs wide apart.
"You think he knows?" Sunghoon demanded, grinding his hard cock against your sensitive, aching pussy. The friction was electric despite the lingering soreness.
"You think Jay knows how wet you get for this?" He shoved two fingers into your pussy without preamble, curling them instantly against that spongy spot deep inside. You cried out, arching off the couch.
"Fuck! Still so swollen," he groaned, his voice thick with dark satisfaction. "Still so fucking tight from taking us both." He pumped his fingers ruthlessly, scissoring them slightly to stretch you even more. "But this..." He withdrew his fingers slick with your arousal and pressed them against your lips. "Taste. Taste how much my cunt wants it rough. Wants it mean."
You opened your mouth obediently, sucking his fingers clean, tasting yourself and the faint echo of Jay mixed with Sunghoon’s dominance. The submission, the degradation, sent fresh arousal flooding through you.
"Good girl," he rasped, but the endearment was twisted, possessive. He positioned himself at your entrance. "Mine." He thrust in one brutal stroke, sheathing himself to the hilt in your still-tender pussy.
You screamed at the sudden, overwhelming fullness—the stretch amplified by the recent double penetration, the deep ache colliding violently with shocking pleasure. Sunghoon didn't pause. He set a relentless, punishing pace from the first stroke, fucking into you with deep, powerful drives of his hips that shoved the couch back against the wall with each impact. His hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave fresh bruises, holding you down as he took you.
"Look at me," he commanded hoarsely.
You forced your eyes open, meeting his burning gaze inches above yours. Sweat dripped from his brow onto your chest.
"See who's fucking you," he ground out between thrusts that stole your breath. "Not him. Me." He leaned down, capturing your mouth again in a searing kiss filled with teeth and tongue and raw need. When he pulled back, his lips were smeared with fresh blood from your cut.
"You take me deeper," he accused, slamming home. "You clench harder." Another brutal thrust. "You come harder." He shifted slightly, angling his hips so each drive rubbed directly over that abused, hypersensitive spot inside you. "Show me."
He was right. The intensity was different—more personal, more desperate. The pain flared bright but was utterly consumed by the sheer force of his possession and your own treacherous desire for it. The friction built impossibly fast, a tight coil winding in your belly despite the soreness.
"Sunghoon... please..." It wasn't a plea for mercy; it was a plea for release.
"Come," he snarled, not easing his brutal rhythm for a second. "Come on my cock and show me who owns this greedy fucking cunt."
His words, the relentless pounding against your deepest spot, the sheer overwhelming him pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm tore through you like a lightning strike—blinding, violent, and utterly consuming.
Your back arched off the couch as far as his weight allowed as wave after wave of searing ecstasy ripped through you. Your inner walls clenched and spasmed around his driving cock with frantic strength, milking him with pulses that bordered on agony.
Feeling your violent climax trigger his own release almost instantly. With a guttural roar that shook his entire frame, Sunghoon buried himself impossibly deep and came. Hot jets of come erupted inside you in powerful spurts that seemed endless as he ground against your clenching pussy through each pulse.
He collapsed heavily onto you afterward, his body shuddering with aftershocks, his breath ragged gusts against your neck.
He didn't move for long moments, still buried deep inside you. His weight was crushing but grounding. His lips brushed the shell of your ear, his voice a wrecked whisper this time: "Mine."
He finally lifted himself slightly on trembling arms, looking down at you—wrecked anew beneath him on the cheap vinyl couch in his dingy dressing room. His gaze traced the fresh fingerprints blooming on your hips, your ravaged lip, the utter surrender in your eyes.
The storm in his own eyes hadn't fully abated; it had merely banked, replaced by a dark, possessive satisfaction as fierce as the jealousy that fueled it.
He slowly pulled out of your well-used pussy with a slick sound that echoed obscenely in the quiet room. A fresh trickle of mixed fluids followed him onto the vinyl. He didn't speak as he stood on unsteady legs, turning away to grab a towel and toss it carelessly towards you before reaching for his clothes.
The silence was heavy, charged not with anger now, but with the profound weight of what had just happened—a brutal claiming that had settled nothing except who he believed you belonged to. He zipped his jeans with sharp efficiency, not looking back as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. The message was clear: You're mine. The tension wasn't resolved; it had simply shifted shape, becoming a tangible thing in the small space between you—heavier and far more dangerous than before.
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r66dusthewriter ¡ 2 days ago
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Hello! This is my first ever request! I was wondering if you could do a Drew starkey x actress(reader) who have been together for a while now but the public doesn’t know. And they’re spotted together in the set OBX 5 being all cute
I loved you here
Pairing: Drew Starkey x fem!reader.
Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!
a/n: Extra fic this week! this is my favorite trope so ask for more, i begggggg. Actually i'm already plotting for a fic hehehe, might've already written it even 👹
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: none
Word count: 0,8k
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It was the last first day back on set and as bittersweet as that was, you couldn’t help the flicker of joy curling in your chest. For the first time in months, you and Drew would be in the same city, your schedules finally aligning like stars that had kept missing each other in orbit. It sounded like an insane way to maintain a healthy relationship, seeing each other between shoots, flights, time zones and premieres, but it worked and had worked for five years now, soon to be six. 
Quiet, solid and steady amidst the chaos.
Everyone was already out in wardrobe, gathering in groups on set to take promo pictures when you finally stepped out of the makeup trailer. Your stylist adjusted a hair strand behind you as the makeup artists trailed out, checking your face under the light one last time.
You picked up your pace slightly, not wanting to keep anyone waiting and then you saw Drew standing near the edge of the uneven ground where the trail met the set’s main path, a little higher up than the rest. His gaze lifted, caught yours and as always, softened instantly.
You smiled. “Hi baby.”
“Hi,” he said back, just as warm. “You didn’t have to rush.”
You reached the edge of the drop and before you could think of climbing down, Drew stepped forward, gripped your waist and lifted you gently off the ledge, placing you down right in front of him like it was second nature. You steadied yourself with a hand on his chest. “You didn’t have to wait.”
“I wanted to,” he simply said, his voice low and easy. “You look beautiful.”
You brushed his hand as you fell into step beside him, pinkies barely brushing until they caught and looped together for just a second between you and around, castmates and crew chatted as they walked, heading toward the first shoot location.
“Last first day,” he said quietly.
You glanced around, the familiarity of it all sinking in. “I’m definitely crying on the last day.”
“I’ll start tonight,” he laughed.
You chuckled, nudging his shoulder. “Have you thought about what you’re gonna ask to keep?”
“Yeah,” he said, almost too quickly.
You gave him a look. “Oh really? That confident?”
“Mhm. I’m not asking though and I already stole it.”
You blinked, curious. “It better not be more of the gold, because if you’re stockpiling, I’ve got to return mine before we get in trouble.”
Drew grinned, turning his head just enough to catch your expression. “It’s you, baby. Found you here first and I’m not giving you back.”
You bumped into him with a laugh and slid an arm around his waist as you walked. He squeezed your side gently in return.
“That was smooth,” you said, impressed.
“I try.”
You reached up and plucked the sunglasses off his face, sliding them onto your own. “You nailed it, baby. Don’t doubt yourself.”
It had been obvious from the start that you were each other’s best thing. The quarantine FaceTime calls, all the red carpets, night shoots, line rehearsals and late-night takeout meals in cramped trailers, were all part of the story. Growing up in this industry with Drew had changed your life in more ways than you could count but most of all, it had made everything feel a little less heavy and a whole lot more worth it.
For the next few hours, as you moved between locations for the photos, you and Drew created a game. One of you would point at a spot on set and the other would tell the memory tied to it. That bench where you both fell asleep during a night shoot in season two, that path you’d ran off to, to kiss hiding from prying eyes and the dock behind the crew tent where you’d whispered “I think I’m in love with you,” when you hadn’t meant to.
As always, unsurprisingly so, you forgot people could see that sort of connection, much less film it, which was what happened.
You and Drew had always been quiet about it and as discreet as you could, or at least, you thought you were. But that moment had been captured, as many others by the always-watchful lenses of fans across the field. The videos were posted within the hour and then they were everywhere.
obsessedfilmupdates  are they friends?
outerbnxfiles  Sooo much worse
rafeanatics  Last year hoping they’ll fall in love 😪
sunkissedstarkey  I need them to realise they’re perfect for each other like FAST
outerbanksfeed   Stand down, soldier. I think we did it
The comments poured in like waves, relentless, warm and achingly observant. Fans had always seen it, what had always lived quietly between the takes and under the surface. The comfort, the soft familiarity and the way you looked at each other like home. Even without confirmation, it was a fantasy millions had collectively chosen to internalise. It maybe wasn’t yet real to them but clearly it wasn’t a performance either and that was more than enough.
If this was the beginning of the end, this last season, this last stretch of long nights and early mornings, you were okay with it—because he had been there at the start and you knew, no matter where the story ended on screen, he’d be there long after the credits rolled.
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blossomcola ¡ 3 days ago
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PLEASE babysitter megan x reader smut! 😫
pairing. babysitter!megan skiendiel x milf reader.
content warnings. age gap, cheating, cunnilingus.
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babysitter megan and milf reader... i can see megan wanting to get a job like this just because she wants to, you know, be able to drool over hot milfs who are married! she lives a movie in her head, so she would look for the opportunity to be a babysitter because she would love to be able to constantly see a beautiful woman older than her for a few years and simultaneously be able to work and earn money. without a doubt, this is the perfect job for megan.
and she’s a complete sweetheart! always treating the housekeepers with respect and helping them clean even if that is their job, playing with your children all the time and bringing out a bright smile on their faces that lasts all day until they go to bed at night, even being mega respectful and chivalrous to you, more than your husband ever could! he would always complain that megan is quite formal and dry with him but mega sweet and respectful with you, but you downplay it thinking it’s because he’s almost never home due to his long work shifts and you tend to be at home more often since you don't have a heavy workload, too bad it’s actually because megan wants to fuck you! even if your husband suspects her and tries to warn you of her real intentions, you can only think that he is upset that she is not as friendly to him as she is to you.
but everything changes one day when everything seemed to fall into place, megan’s luck: the domestic workers had the day off, so your husband would be in charge of picking up the children from school after he left work and you would take care of the housework with megan’s help — with the employees around, you never usually noticed the tension you felt with megan, but in their absence, it was more than difficult to ignore... both you and she felt it and tried to make the atmosphere less of that uncomfortable sexual tension that was suffocating the environment, but an exchange of glances between the two of you was more than enough for megan to pounce on you and start kissing you as if she were trying to devour you. she had been holding back the urge and impulse to jump on you for months every time the possible opportunity presented itself, and today she wouldn’t let it go!
megan making you sit on the kitchen counter with your legs spread so she can kneel on the floor in front of you and eat you out 😵‍💫 she knows about the lack of attention you have been receiving lately from your husband since you told her about it in a conversation that was supposed to be casual but megan can’t seem to forget it yet, megan is aware that your dear lover has neglected you lately and she is there to make up for it.
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levigarden999 ¡ 2 days ago
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random modern!levi headcanons .. ୨ৎ
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୨ৎ levi would be the most stereotypical, a little older internet user. he would be the one who refuses to download any form of social media, because he’s simply not a person who enjoys sharing his life to others. however the bigger reason for this is the fact that he is afraid someone would steal his credit info and sell his identity on the black market. this is a little contradictory, because every time levi gets scam text messages or emails where they demand personal information or bank details from him – he always falls for it.
୨ৎ levi would always clean the rooms of the hotels he stays at by himself. of course he knows that those rooms have been properly cleaned and sanitized between customers – he simply just doesn’t trust the cleaners’ work enough.
୨ৎ levi would love scrubdaddy. and basically every other cleaning product as well. however, that doesn’t mean he isn’t careful about what his buying. he always makes sure he buys the most sufficient and scent free ones with the least chemicals in them.
୨ৎ levi tells everyone that he’s not addicted to devices. meanwhile the guy owns an iphone, an ipad and also a laptop. oh, and a work phone as well.
୨ৎ levi is usually a little rude and grumpy towards customer servants. it’s not like he truly means to be cruel or demanding, he simply wants the best service wherever he goes. he believes that every human should do their best at work every day, so if he experiences bad service, he is definitely not satisfied. however, despite his grumpiness, levi appreciates especially cashiers and waiters, since he knows that he wouldn’t ever be able to do such work as they do.
୨ৎ levi showers every day and washes his hair every two days, with no expectations. once a week he does an everything shower, where he scrubs his skin, washes his hair, shaves and soaps his skin. he also has a skin care routine and makes sure to lotion his body daily – especially during winters, when the skin often feels dryer.
୨ৎ levi loves dark, black coffee with no milk or sugar.
୨ৎ levi doesn't often buy new clothes, since he's very much against the idea of capitalism. however, when he buys clothes, he makes sure to buy actually high quality products. levi's wardrobe is pretty empty, but it only contains a bit more expensive clothing with casual coloring and design (no silver leggings i swear) so it's easier to match the different clothes to each other.
୨ৎ levi feeds stray cats and dogs. not by hand or anything, because that would be way too unhygienic for him, but he places small bowls of freshly poured milk and meat on the side of the street, a little further away from where he lives at. the citizens around have started to think why the stray animals have been looking healthier lately.
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