#if you find any I missed please let me know!!

[writerpeach]

Sticky Sweet

IVE Wonyoung x m!reader

21k words

Part 9 of IVED Vanilla Latte

“You’re coming with us.” That is precisely how they phrase it. No 'please,' no 'if you want to,' not an ounce of consideration. "I don't even like clubs—" "And?" Yujin interrupts, lifting a finger up to press against your lips to silence you. "This is non-negotiable." "What if I had other plans tonight?" "When have you ever had something planned that didn't involve either of us?" Wonyoung asks as she finishes applying mascara on her other eye. The two stare you down, arms crossed and unwilling to take no for an answer.

"Exactly," Yujin says as she disappears into the walk-in closet, returning a few moments later with two very different dresses. "Be ready in an hour."

That’s how you find yourself here.

You can hardly hear yourself think over the deafening music, blaring so loud you can feel it through the floorboards of the club these two finagled you into.

But you couldn't miss the chance for these two girls to show off, heels and tight dresses and heavy makeup, expensive jewelry dangling from their ears. Impossible for them not to be the center of attention the moment they step through the door, avoiding this massive line stretching down the sidewalk simply by flashing a smile to the bouncer, being let right through. 

You're pretty sure these two could get out of almost anything with the right facial expression. Just a raise of an eyebrow and a flutter of those luscious lashes, and their wish is everyone's command.

Once the three of you find a booth in the private VIP section, Yujin waves over a server, ordering two bottles of their most expensive champagne without even batting an eye at the price. "Can't believe daddy actually came along," Wonyoung shouts across the table. "Like, actually went to a club with us."

"Like he could ever resist us. All it takes to convince him is a slutty dress like this," Yujin says as she gives this little grin, that confident stare she's mastered over time. "And maybe the promise of fucking me in the bathroom if he's lucky. Right, daddy?"

The two of them giggle, already working on their first glass of champagne while scooting in close. It's a cozy enough booth, enough space that you're all able to slide in on one side, bare thighs brushing against yours and leaving no gaps between any of you. 

On your right, Yujin in this elegant white dress that matches the pearls hanging from her neck, the hem flirting past her hips. And to your left, Wonyoung in this tight, form-fitting black dress with sparkling gems that hug her curves, her long legs crossed so you can see every inch of them. 

"Daddy could never say no to getting his dick wet," Wonyoung says as she tilts her head back, gulping the last of her first glass and sets it down. Yujin laughs at that, almost spitting out her drink.

She’s not wrong. 

“It's too fucking loud in here," you complain, desperate to change the topic as you look around the VIP lounge. 

"Daddy's getting old,” you hear, and it’s Wonyoung, of course, who says that while pouring another glass. And you know she's mocking you, that look of faux innocence that earns a giggle from Yujin beside you. “Or maybe you're just used to listening to my screams and not anything else."

Yujin nearly drops her glass at Wonyoung's brazen remark and doubles over with laughter.

It’s only after the first bottle is almost depleted, that you switch to a couple rounds of shots, with Yujin pouring one down your throat as Wonyoung makes quick work of a margarita, before you even think about getting on the dance floor. 

That’s the excuse you’ll give for these two to grind up on you without hesitation in this packed sea of bodies, hands groping every bit of you they can, cupping your crotch while you return the favor and grab their tight asses, kissing both girls without giving the least amount of care for onlookers.

And you're definitely the luckiest person in here right now.

Almost better when you're not part of the main action, having your two favorite girls get all handsy while you watch. Seeing Wonyoung take the lead is always a delight, fingers running through those silky strands of Yujin's long, jet-black hair, holding her firmly in place as she dives in for a sloppy kiss, pushing her tongue in deep for more than a few moments. 

You’re not left staring for long. Wonyoung isn’t afraid to pull you back in with a tight yank of your collar as she slips her tongue into your mouth without hesitation, the alcohol on her breath lingering.

Yujin's next to follow, biting your ear and whispering all the dirty things she wants you to do tonight, getting her tongue in the mix with Wonyoung, eager to swap saliva back and forth with either of you. 

But Wonyoung isn't content to let her give all the attention, snaking behind you to suck on the exposed skin of your neck with those full, pouty lips that devour you. Her hands wander along your body, sneaking under your shirt, traveling wherever she pleases. 

Yujin is equally relentless, licking and nibbling at your skin until she turns around to grind her hips, pushing that delicious ass on the bulge trapped by your pants. As if you needed a reminder of how turned on you are, your dick hardening with each move they make.

"Daddy's getting a little worked up, isn't he?" Wonyoung murmurs into your ear, leaning forward while the two get a handful of your crotch, and she's not wrong. Two sets of nimble fingers squeeze and stroke along the outline in your pants, so needy, so wanting, and it's almost embarrassing how quickly you've gotten hard, with little chance of hiding it in public. 

"Need another fucking drink," you growl, knowing the last thing you need is them riling you up this much in a crowded space, not that you're going to stay on the dance floor much longer. Making a beeline toward the nearest bar, the two don't stop with all the attention, clinging to your side as you toss back a double shot, hoping the burn will distract you. 

It won’t.

"There's a bathroom upstairs," Wonyoung says so quickly she almost swallows every word, clearly as needy as you are when she yanks on your wrist. "Come on. Both of you. Now."

In a blink, she's dragging both you and Yujin away, which only makes the alcohol hit harder as the anticipation builds. She shoves you both inside, shutting the door behind as quickly as possible, the lock clicking in place to let the magic begin. 

But you’re happy to let them start without you, as Wonyoung wastes no time shoving Yujin against the sink for another drunken, heated kiss, purses thrown aside on the counter. The thud of Yujin's back hits the sink hard enough for her to groan, as the younger girl grabs her by the waist to draw her body tight, narrowing the distance while she shoves her tongue between those soft, willing lips.

Watching them devour each other is almost as intoxicating as the alcohol, and you're content to stand back and enjoy the show, listening to Yujin's throaty moans and needy sighs as the two lock lips, tongues exploring with impatience. 

The two go at it, Yujin with that tight, low cut dress riding up and showing off a sliver of her perfect ass, her black lace thong doing nothing to hide. Wonyoung right beside her, squeezes every bit of ass she can get her hands on, both of them moaning into their kiss and almost completely oblivious to you, the youngest still having the lead this time.

That’s until Wonyoung beckons to get involved with a finger, calling you closer. "Don't just stand there and watch like an idiot, daddy. If you're gonna stare, at least touch, too."

Not an easy invitation to refuse as you step closer to join this scene that’s all tongue, lips and saliva. Your fingers trail up along Wonyoung's bare skin, and you can't help but kiss the curve of her shoulder, working a hand along her hip until you find one of her smooth inner thighs underneath that short dress. 

Nothing in the world can distract Wonyoung at a time like this, grabbing your hand and shoving it right against the crotch of her panties with little thought, her body grinding on your fingers. The panties soak through in what feels like seconds as she groans into Yujin's lips from how you start to toy with her cunt, just grazing against it with each stroke, the wet fabric coating your fingertips with ease. 

"Poor daddy must be so hard," Yujin coos, getting close enough for her perfume to linger as her hands wrap around the back of your head. Like she doesn’t know that already when giving your hair a gentle tug,and crashes her lips into yours, tongue forcing its way in.

And while she claims your lips, Wonyoung helps ease the stress on your dick, creating friction from outside of your pants.

Now you’ve got Yujin’s taste in your mouth, and this needy girl on her knees as she takes care of unfastening everything holding your cock hostage in these tight pants. Her long fingers pull at your belt buckle, quickly shoving your pants down to the bathroom floor, until your clothed cock meets her hungry gaze. With a lick of her lips, she runs her hand along every inch, a grin appearing as she gives a firm squeeze through the fabric that causes a muffled groan. 

"Mm, must need this cock sucked so bad," Wonyoung says, digging fingertips into your boxers long enough to tear them off with a forceful tug. And the moment your cock is freed, she gives the attention you so badly crave, a tight grip around the base while her lips plant the first of many wet kisses.

“Good thing you're already on your knees then, slut," Yujin adds, chuckling before Wonyoung steals another taste, tongue flicking against your leaking slit as she pumps slow and steady. “Sucking off daddy is what our little brat is best at, isn’t it?” 

You couldn’t agree more. There’s hardly any music to distract you through the bathroom walls, bass reduced to a dull thump that makes it easier to drown in every little sound filling the room. Yujin bites on your bottom lip, bringing you into another wet, sloppy kiss, the taste of liquor so prominent on her tongue. And during that kiss, you groan into her mouth when Wonyoung wraps her full lips around your cock, slurping it down with little difficulty. 

“This is why we keep her around,” Yujin giggles while she wraps her arms around you, tracing her tongue up your neck. Wonyoung responds by sliding her lips farther down along the length of your dick, still stroking, leaving you unable to do much else but groan as you're engulfed in that hot, velvety mouth.

"Mmmph," and that’s all you can really hear as she swallows you down, warm mouth so sloppy, cheeks hollowed, head bobbing like there was never any other option but to take your entire length. 

Yujin’s right there, a distraction as much as encouragement, whispering whatever filthy things she can think of, whatever it takes to keep you rock hard while Wonyoung works her magic. It’s hypnotic, the way Wonyoung bobs her head, getting so deep with ease, the wet heat of her throat as she takes these deep, hungry strokes that echo as her lips move to the base of your cock, a combined effort all doing their best to unravel you. 

“Fuck, princess—“ 

And that’s all you can really do as she bobs her head so desperately between your legs, almost seeking approval. 

“Must feel so good, daddy. Our greedy little cocksucker loves it,” Yujin says, smirking as she dives back into another liplock, all lips and tongue and the occasional nibble of your neck. “Spit on that fucking cock, princess. Show us what a messy little whore you’ll always be.” 

It's almost a miracle Yujin even gets out the entire sentence with how much Wonyoung is moaning on your cock.

Whatever thoughts Wonyoung had prior vanish on the spot—unable to resist those kinds of commands. Not a lick of hesitation as she spits on your slick shaft, rubbing it in while you two watch, and she does it again and again, so damn eager to get her warm saliva dripping all over you.

You're more than thankful for the extra attention, because now Wonyoung takes the chance to pin your hips against the bathroom counter, getting nice and deep with the entirety of your dick shoved into her mouth. 

“God—that bratty fucking mouth feels so good,” you manage when Yujin lets you come up for air, lips licking up your neck once more. 

“Only thing she’s good for, right, daddy? A warm, wet hole for daddy to breed and that mouth getting us off. That’s what you’re best at, princess.” 

And it sounds so demeaning out of Yujin’s mouth, but Wonyoung couldn’t agree more, pressing her nose into your abdomen every time she bottoms out, a hand fondling your balls as she does so like she needs to prove a point. 

"Look at her go, daddy,” Yujin says right in your ear, taking a moment to enjoy the show. “Our little deepthroat queen, hungry as ever. On her knees, in a public bathroom. Right at home, isn’t she? Just needs to choke on it."

Wonyoung hums an affirmative moan, as if to agree, saliva hung down her chin while she pulls back slowly, a loud pop when you exit her mouth. And then she’s pumping so frantically, kissing your wet cock, tongue lashing up and down the length. 

"Nobody gives a blowjob like me, huh, daddy? Nice and sloppy, making a mess all over this big cock—“

Yujin only laughs. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, princess.”

“But it’s true, daddy tells me that all the time,” Wonyoung says with so much pride in her voice, but Yujin’s too busy playing with your earlobe between her lips to even care. 

She’s not wrong of course, but you can’t admit it—at least not out loud. Wonyoung’s ego is inflated enough. 

But she does have the oral expertise covered, able to drain a load from your balls down her throat in seconds, if needed. And of course, Yujin is also deadly with that mouth, regardless of who’s the lucky recipient. Equal or surpassing Wonyoung on any given day, a master at everything else. Able to get either of you off in a matter of moments, usually first thing in the morning when there’s not much time before class. A quick bounce on your cock or sliding you between those deliciously thick thighs, and you’re gone—ready to start the day with a hot shower and a smile on your face. 

Wonyoung is back on your cock in an instant, so pretty on her knees, lips sealed tight, and moving faster than you can comprehend. She’s the definition of messy, eyes wide, slobbering on every inch, head bobbing, lost in her own world and loving every sound that you make. Not shy in her movements one bit, those lips move down to the base, just dying to please as the entirety of your cock stays shoved into her throat. 

Spit drips off her chin in this greedy attempt to swallow every bit of you, gorgeous doe eyes staring up as she hungrily chokes you down. There’s a pause every now and again to drag her tongue along the tip, flicking so rapidly while your cock throbs desperately in her grip. 

Your head falls back in pleasure, Yujin taking the opportunity to angle your face and shove her tongue in your mouth.

"Can't believe she used to be bad at this," she notes before your mouth is claimed in yet another sloppy kiss. "Now she sucks dick like a fucking porn star."

Wonyoung steals another glance as she pulls her lips away slowly, diving right back for several more strokes that confirm every word from Yujin’s lips. Her enthusiasm can't be matched, her fingers a little too eager, so much saliva dripping off her lips.

"I'm still better at taking it in the ass though," Yujin giggles as she nibbles along your neck and pecks along your cheek.

With each stroke and lick of Wonyoung's warm, slobbering mouth, you find yourself giving in to those obscene moans, unable to contain yourself, a relentless pace to push you closer to your limit. "That bratty fucking mouth really can't get enough, hm, princess?"

There’s no response, not that you need one when those full, luscious lips are heaven—wet and tight, so willing to please, choking down every inch so easily. And that tongue knows how to drive you wild, playing against the underside of your cock, flicking around to hit every last bit of sensitivity. 

No one can deny the results either, leaving a mess of saliva behind, your cock glistening—a blowjob a porn star would be jealous of is about as good as it gets. 

"Pretty thing is making such a mess," Yujin adds. "Got her sloppy fucking mouth drooling all over. Look at her, so hungry, choking on it, sucking down daddy's fat cock like she needs it to breathe."

“Brat makes me feel so good with this sloppy fucking mouth,” you groan, and can hardly speak the words out loud as they try to form, Wonyoung not giving the slightest sign of stopping as she delivers those unforgiving slurps. 

"Won't it feel even better if you fuck her pretty face, daddy?" Yujin's voice is dripping with this wickedness, the lust getting the better of her when she keeps her lips right at your ear, hot breath right up against. "Make her really choke on it, get that throat wrecked, see how far you can really cram it down there, yeah?"

Wonyoung pops you from her mouth with a wet gasp, ready to catch her breath for just a second as she goes back in without a word. 

“That what you want, princess? For me to use that bratty little mouth and make you a real fucking mess?” It's a rhetorical question, given how eagerly Wonyoung nods. The answer is already known, without a single word of refusal on her end.

Anything else is unacceptable. 

"Fucking whore likes that idea," Yujin adds while she hops onto the counter and spreads her legs. "Give her what she wants, daddy—shove your thick fucking cock down her throat. Ruin her, she’s begging for it. Aren’t you?” 

Wonyoung doesn't have a moment to reply. You give no warning whatsoever, too gone on shoving yourself back in that warm mouth, grabbing that silky black hair with both hands, fingers threaded tightly, holding her still as your hips take over. 

You thrust. 

Wonyoung chokes and sputters, spitting all over the base of your cock while Yujin laughs and kicks her feet in excitement, watching intently as the brat struggles.

"She can handle it, don't let up. Make her fucking gag. Wanna see that makeup all messy, fuck her throat like you do her cunt.”

That’s really all the instruction you need. Pumping your hips gets you so deep from the start, and Wonyoung doesn't have much choice but to accept every inch, that tight little throat being tested on how good it can take you. Turns out, like a fucking champ—not that anyone in the room expected anything less. 

So you don’t let up. Because why would you when Wonyoung can take whatever you give and more, inhaling every last inch stuffed down her throat, gagging so beautifully while her gaze never falters. 

And that look—her cheeks are flushed, eyes wide and teary, and she's swallowing your entire length, surrendering to your every desire, your hips driven by lust. 

Yujin couldn't be happier to see her this way, the girl who prides herself on being perfect, now looking so debauched, cheeks stained with tears, several strings of spit dripping off her chin, mascara running so beautifully. 

“Jesus, fuck,” you groan, and it’s you who needs a break from these forceful thrusts, not Wonyoung, letting the image burn into your mind—this perfect canvas being ruined. “Your throat feels so goddamn good, princess.” 

“Of course it does, idiot,” Wonyoung manages to say through all the tears, wanting you back down her throat before you can even blink again. But you’re quick to guide her back, grabbing her head and repeating this all, hips snapping forward, your cock shoving as deep as it’ll go into her mouth. 

She’s completely at your mercy and wouldn’t have it any other way. “Arms behind your back, princess. Let daddy do the work, let him fuck that throat the way I know you love," Yujin demands as your cock makes its way back between those swollen, soft lips, hitting the back of her throat over and over. 

Tear-struck, mascara-run face and all, Wonyoung reaches back obediently and hugs her arms behind her, looking up, waiting to do nothing but take this.

“Pretty fucking toy,” you say, you can vocalize while you're fucking her throat like her watery eyes desperately beg for, every thrust picking up a little bit more speed, as her face becomes a perfect combination of saliva, tears and ruined mascara that looks so gorgeous staining that porcelain complexion. 

"Looks so fucking good, seeing this brat used like this," Yujin chimes in, eyes never looking away from Wonyoung, on her knees, taking every rough, wet slap of your hips that slam against her hungry lips. 

Your words fade into grunts and groans, as your hips thrust on repeat into her face, not slowing down for anything—

And Wonyoung has no qualms about her position, able to take the brunt of these unapologetic slams right down her throat while you palm her head and she gags so shamelessly, balls smacking her chin with each slap, tears falling free. 

“Such a good girl,” Yujin says, with this little smirk, wide and proud, Wonyoung with her mouth stuffed so full to argue otherwise. "Your pretty little toy. Keep going, fuck that face, daddy. She must be so fucking wet from all this."

She’s not the only one, either. 

There’s a familiar, slick noise that almost breaks your focus, and you know exactly what it is—Yujin, who's not shy about sitting on that counter and shoving her hand beneath her dress. She groans, quite loudly, pushing aside the lace of her thong so her fingers can pump in and out of her greedy pussy, eyes not leaving the debauchery happening below her. 

And as bad as you want to take a peek at just how wet Yujin has gotten for the show, you keep your eyes on Wonyoung—forcing her head down the base of your shaft, nose shoved against your stomach, hair tussled with no plans to release the tight grip that's driving you insane. She can't do much but stare up when her lips stay perfectly sealed, up against your balls. 

Muffled gargles escape from her mouth stuffed so full as you continue this relentless motion and spit drooling out like a faucet while you keep her firmly locked into place. 

“God, princess—these lips, this tight fucking throat, feels too fucking good," you groan, throbbing deep in her mouth. 

Wonyoung struggles to catch her breath as you pull away, saliva staining that little black dress of hers, more strings still attached to her mouth and chin. "Hey—wasn't finished with that cock yet," she protests, reluctant to leave her pillowy lips from your length. 

“But daddy must be ready to burst, can tell from those fucking groans," Yujin says, her own breath a little labored from touching herself. "So you get that cum right in your stomach and we can worry about your next load of jizz later."

For Wonyoung, the disappointment fades in an instant at the prospect of getting her stomach pumped full. She licks her lips and wipes the drool from her face before kissing a trail down your shaft, lips lowering, until they latch right onto your sensitive sack, wet tongue running over every bit. 

"This should help empty these heavy fucking balls," Wonyoung murmurs between those loud suckling sounds, humming so contently. Her lips suck and slurp with hunger, lost in the taste, looking up innocently with her smudged makeup and hair a complete mess, hot breath lingering on every bit.

"F-fuck, that fucking mouth, keep going—" You almost lose the ability to speak when her hand grips you firmly, mouth so ravenous on your balls. All of the warm, wet slobber that's been collecting on your shaft makes this so easy, her hand gliding up and down the length while you groan louder.

The strokes only get faster, these sinful slurps much louder, so lewd, so filthy, while your fist takes over, balls ready to be emptied while the pressure builds with every passing second. 

“Daddy’s gonna blow his fucking load,” Yujin says with so much excitement, watching this all unfold. But all you can focus on is Wonyoung, the heat of her mouth, swallowing each of your balls in sequence while your cock aches with these furious strokes. 

"Don't fucking stop, I'm so damn close," you moan out, feeling it all building to a point of no return. So close—right there, her mouth playing on each side of your heavy balls, knowing exactly what will send you over the edge.

"Open that bratty mouth," Yujin commands from the side, rubbing her clit all the while. Wonyoung responds exactly as ordered, leaning back, her tongue hanging out and ready for you to dump your load into her greedy mouth. And that's exactly where you aim, cock right between those pouty lips, resting the head along her warm, waiting tongue as the last couple few strokes finish the job. 

You unload right in her open mouth, and she moans at the first shot that lands on her outstretched tongue, the next thick spurts reaching into the back of her throat. A series of groans follows, as you pump out all you have to give into her mouth, some hitting her lips, the rest pooling onto her tongue. 

It’s euphoric, the intense spurts that leave your cock, and Wonyoung keeps her tongue out obediently, every hot, creamy spurt landing where it belongs, waiting until you've fired the very last of it. 

"Swallow it all, princess," Yujin orders, as if she ever needs to encourage anything of the sort. But that's exactly what Wonyoung does, making this sweet little moan when her head tilts back, and you watch your cum go straight down her throat, tongue swiping across to clean any trace. "That’s our good fucking girl." 

Wonyoung glares daggers right at Yujin for those words, knowing exactly how she feels about them. "Sh-shut up, I'm not—"

"Good? Yeah, we know. Princess gets her face destroyed in a bathroom and daddy's fucking cum right down her throat. Little slut is anything but good."

And that's the praise that Wonyoung prefers, what she craves, tongue out to show you the emptiness, swallowed all down before she gets her lips right back on your cock to make sure she’s got the last of it, every bit. When you can’t take anymore of this insane suction, you push her head off your oversensitive shaft with a groan, trying to catch your breath, hoping there’s no going back for more. 

"You're a fucking mess," is all you say and both Wonyoung and Yujin chuckle, so amused at that obvious observation. 

"Because I was choking on your dumb fucking cock. Not my fault daddy likes to be so rough," she says so proudly, trying to pin her insatiable desires on you. Even through all the ruined mascara, smeared lipstick and smudged eyeliner, there's still this innocence that drips from her lips when they smile.

"Pretty sure that's exactly your fault, princess," Yujin says as she helps Wonyoung to her feet, grabbing a tissue to help clean up her face a bit. Not that there's much she can do to fix such a disheveled appearance in a short time. 

"Ugh, whatever, let's get out of here. This place was nice enough and all, but I wanna get railed somewhere we're less likely to get interrupted," Wonyoung says, as she takes a quick glimpse in the mirror, admiring the work you've done. "Maybe somewhere with a little less fucking noise."

"And you called me the old one," you reply, earning the standard eye roll and huff from Wonyoung. 

"Because you are old, dummy. This music is fucking horrendous, and my feet hurt," she complains, struggling to stand upright as she leans over the counter. 

"God, you really are such a brat. Next, you're gonna want me to carry you out of here." 

"Well—if you're offering, daddy."

"I'm not."

Yujin is all giggles again, leaning over to kiss your lips. It's a tender, soft kiss, a nice juxtaposition to everything that's gone on in this room. 

"I choke on your cock, swallow every drop, and I can't even get carried outside? What's the fucking point then?" Wonyoung whines, a pout forming that does its best to change your mind. 

"Could you be more spoiled?" Yujin asks, stealing your words as if Wonyoung is the only brat in the room.

"Whatever," Wonyoung growls, reaching for her purse and storming out of the bathroom with an exaggerated stomp of her feet. "Daddy better give me a foot massage when we get back then."

You take a moment to look at Yujin as she jumps down from the counter and does a quick glance in the mirror, fixing her hair. Pants zipped back up, you have a final look around to survey the damage done before following these two out the door. "Let's go, daddy. I think our princess might explode if she has to wait much longer."

With another sigh, you make your exit, no concern for anyone who sees the three of you coming out at the same time, heading back out the club as fast as possible.

"Fucking hate clubs," Wonyoung mutters the moment the cold breeze hits, adjusting the neckline on her dress as the taxi pulls up. 

"Get in then, you fucking brat, before you freeze to death."

All you can do is laugh with Yujin as the door shuts and your bodies squish into the backseat. 

✦ ✦

The three of you are more than a little tipsy by the time you finally get back, making it back to your penthouse apartment where the quiet is so very welcome. Once inside, the one very obvious thing you all notice when the three of you step in is how goddamn dark the entire place is. 

The blinds are closed, lights all off, not a hint of moonlight coming in. You glance around in confusion as all three of you come to the same realization—Wonyoung flicking a nearby light switch and having no luck. And again—nothing.

"Power's out." 

Yujin states the obvious, the more sober one at the moment. Wonyoung immediately sighs deeply, like it's the biggest inconvenience of her life as she rummages through her purse in search of her phone. 

"Yeah, no shit. I see that." 

Using her phone as a flashlight, Wonyoung walks further into the entrance and discards her high heels like trash at the doorway, as Yujin drops off her bag and tosses her coat off. 

"I'll check the break—"

"Don't you touch a damn thing," Wonyoung interrupts, grabbing at your shirt and practically yanking you off balance. "Not until you give me my foot massage. My feet are fucking killing me."

Somehow, you've been roped into this, and you barely have time to take off your coat before she's pulling you onto this huge sectional sofa where you take a seat. In the meantime, Yujin is over by the fireplace, getting it set up, lighting up the whole living space in no time. Now Wonyoung takes a seat on the sofa and throws her legs on your lap in a blink, like she's some kind of royalty expecting service, pointing at her bare feet in desperate need of attention.

"You know, you don't always have to wear heels all the time," you say as Yujin laughs from afar, setting up the last touches on the fireplace as she sits on the opposite side of Wonyoung. And that look you get in return—sends a bigger chill than the lack of heat in the apartment. 

"Daddy, why would I not wear them? These long, sexy legs without heels? A fucking waste,’” Wonyoung says, knowing she'll get what she wants regardless, wiggling her toes so you get the message loud and clear. 

She lifts the heel of one foot, raising it higher so there’s no ignoring it. You sigh as you get your hands on her, giving in and pressing your thumbs deep into her sole, massaging slow circles into the soft, sore skin. Just when you begin, her head drops back, letting out a satisfied, exhausted little moan like she's just run a marathon in those stilettos. 

"Comfortable, princess?" Yujin asks sarcastically from the other end, legs crossed as she watches in amusement.

"Very," she answers. "That's amazing, god. Daddy always takes care of his princess, doesn't he?" 

Utterly ridiculous. For better or worse, that answer is always yes, because you’re weak—and that’s putting it lightly, how she has a way of convincing you to do anything she asks. Whatever it is. The princess always gets what she wants.

"This isn't a spa, you know. You're not getting a full treatment," you warn, but it does little to discourage as Wonyoung just smiles, closing her eyes while your thumbs dig in, kneading every tired inch of her arches. 

"Shh, let me relax. Less talking, more rubbing my feet. That's all you need to be doing," Wonyoung says as you pick up the pressure, this spoiled brat looking so happy getting her feet pampered.

As ridiculous as it is, there's something comforting in taking care of Wonyoung. You love watching how her eyes flutter shut as she lets out this satisfied groan, savoring every touch. Her delicate feet are so soft, and so well kept, her nails painted with a fresh coat of polish, a deep red matching the color on her lips. Honestly, there are worse things you could be doing. 

"Don't act like you don't love spoiling me. So does Yujinnie. Both of you just love to take care of me like this."

"Speak for yourself, brat," Yujin fires back, but can't even do so without a smile on her face that tells otherwise. 

All you can do is give her a weak glare in response and go back to giving her that touch she craves. You spend extra attention on the bottom of her foot before switching sides, firmly massaging every part of her heel, her high arches, then digging your thumbs into the ball to work out all the tension. 

At this point, the room has more than warmed up, a roaring fire that feels so nice and cozy as the crackle fills the room. Your focus stays on Wonyoung—who looks oh so good in this light, stretched out on the sofa, legs in your lap and melting at your touch. 

"Princess shuts up so quickly when she's pampered and relaxed,” you say, trailing the pads of your thumb along the curve of each foot, taking in how soft, pale, and perfectly pedicured her feet are.

“Why do you think she acts like such a brat? Because we both give in and spoil her," Yujin muses, with this smirk that you can barely catch while you continue with this massage. "Especially you." 

You'd be a little hurt if it wasn't so goddamn true. Even right now, as the three of you sit on the huge sofa, Wonyoung has you under her complete control. She has the real upper hand in this relationship, despite what it might look like from the outside. Yujin might not cater to her the same way, but the truth is she's as bad as you are—but you'll never pry that out of her. 

But not even that can break the trance she's fallen under from this foot massage, these content sighs while her head remains against the pillow, almost drifting off. The noises alone are better to gauge her reaction, these cute little hums while you dig into a particularly sore spot, making your way to those long toes, tugging them gently, twisting back and forth.

"Does daddy like my painted toes? I did them just for you," Wonyoung murmurs out of the blue, just now glancing up, eyes narrowed and relaxed. You don't say a word and admire the color, how the dark polish contrasts with her milky skin. Those toes curl from the stimulation, a clear sign you're hitting all the right spots. "Answer me, daddy. Don’t you love them? Love kissing my feet and worshiping them?

"Brat," you mutter under your breath, knowing she'll never drop it. "Do you want me to stop rubbing your feet? Because it sounds like it."

She ignores your threat completely, pressing a foot directly in front of your face with her toes spreading, wiggling around to give you this taunting challenge. "You could never stop, I know. Too addicted to my pretty feet. Now kiss them. They need it, after all the walking around tonight. Kisses. Lots of them."

God, she's really pushing it. Yujin is stifling a laugh at your expense from all this and doesn't even do a single thing to assist, about ready to burst with laughter while Wonyoung's commanding instructions. But you can't deny any of it, in no position to go back on all the devotion you've shown. 

"Well, I'm gonna go check on the power," Yujin finally says, escaping while she can, taking her cue to leave the two of you alone.

And so here you remain alone with this stubborn little brat, getting her wish when you plant a few, chaste kisses on her freshly pedicured feet. And her expression changes immediately, a clear satisfaction written across her face. She makes it so hard to resist the temptation to pamper, guiding her other foot to your mouth to press your lips against that delicate arch, planting kisses on the sole of her foot.

"Much better," she comments, stretching her legs out and using you as her personal footstool. "My cute little masseur, kissing my pretty feet."

You know she's loving it, not even able to hide any moans for a second, content that she doesn't even have to dictate your actions anymore, just lying back and letting you worship her like a goddess. Her toes wiggle and spread apart as you kiss each one, taking a moment to give each equal attention,

"Keep going, daddy, they still feel so sore. Need more kisses to make them all better."

99% sure that isn't the case. In fact, she doesn't look in need of anything else but attention, with her hair falling perfectly, messy strands framing her doll-like face. Wonyoung gives you a smug little smile while her feet angle upward, perfectly positioned for you to plant wet, slow pecks right on her soles, and you're not about to admit she has you so wrapped around her finger, despite evidence to the contrary.

This would be ridiculous to anyone looking in, but the reality is you can hardly tell who is more spoiled here. And so here you sit with Wonyoung's long legs dangling, sitting lazily in your lap. Your lips on her soles, moving up her feet, languid and careful, kisses pressed on each inch.

"Perfect," Wonyoung exhales, those soft sighs gradually picking up as you pay close attention to her delicate arches, still massaging all the while with your hands. You can't exactly resist those gorgeous feet, and the kisses never cease, showing no indication of pulling away from your wandering mouth.

That is, until you hear the hum of electricity around you, the whole living space of this apartment coming back to life. Although there's no Yujin in sight when it happens, and no lights in the living room—which you're pretty sure are both related. 

No complaints here, as you don't mind keeping Wonyoung in the dark and lit up by just the fireplace, turning this into something much more romantic.

With a final few presses of your lips, Wonyoung wonders why you're slowing down on the attention to her feet, already shifting to reposition herself upright in a bit of a pout. You don't say anything, just guiding her foot back to your lips with your focus elsewhere, on a massive rug sitting in front of the fireplace that somehow, has never been put to good use.

"Up," you command, and Wonyoung follows your line of sight, curious but not protesting with the attention you've already lavished on her. She stands to her bare feet with a tiny wobble from the lingering alcohol.

"Dress, off."

"Not even a please?"

You sigh. "Dress off, pretty please," you try again, earning a rather calm tilt of her head. Wonyoung complies in seconds and works on the zipper, lowering the straps down her shoulders. And in no time flat the whole thing is draped at her feet, standing there in just her bra and panties, this pretty set that's pink and silky with cute little bows. "The rest too, now."

Every word that slips off your tongue you expect her to resist in some way, but she doesn't even flinch, unhooking her bra next. Her breasts fall free, the perfect size for her slender frame—just right, perky and delicious, nipples pink and utterly appetizing. 

Then her thumbs loop into the hem of her underwear, and that comes off, all at once. With a lift of her long, slender legs she's tossing them off, standing naked and practically glowing in the light of the fireplace.

"Is there a reason I'm naked and daddy isn't?" 

Your eyes soak her in, and the question hardly registers. Wonyoung, to her credit, has not one shy bone in her body. Her expensive little outfit that sits in a pile on the hardwood floor, nothing left covering that porcelain skin, standing so proud, so bare, so confident. 

Fuck, what a sight—luscious legs that go on for miles, tight stomach that's as toned as can be, curves to die for, a little more meat on her thighs and ass than usual, her wide hips perfectly accentuated. You never tire of staring. Not one single fucking inch goes unnoticed, especially where you draw attention to most, her clean-shaven, tight little pussy that makes your mouth water.

"I'll get to it. Just get on that rug first," you insist, sending her eyes on an inspection of this fancy rug that's been neglected. White and round and enormous, her toes sink in when she steps onto its surface, soft to the touch. It's so cozy on her bare feet, and the fire keeps her naked skin warm. 

"On my knees?" she asks with a glance back, a step further in the middle of this fluffy rug.

"No, not this time. On your back. Get nice and comfortable, princess." 

That's all you say as she lowers herself to the rug, getting on her back and laying against the plush material, sinking into this comfortable surface that feels amazing against her naked body. Her thighs spread wide almost on instinct, so invitingly open for you, arms resting on her elbows. 

You take the time to follow in suit, slowly undressing as you watch her get herself set. Her eyes narrow as she waits patiently, watching closely the more bare skin reveals with every bit of clothing tossed aside, a pile of clothes not unlike hers. Until you're fully naked yourself, staring once more at the outline of her naked body illuminated in the light that the fireplace gives. So goddamn beautiful. How could someone not spoil her when she's such a work of art?

Yujin was right—you do spoil her too much, but who gives a shit? Not you, not ever.

Your feet touch the edge of the soft, white fabric as your body lingers between her spread thighs. Now you're the one getting on your knees before settling on your stomach, right between her long, beautiful legs as you kiss along the soft flesh, gradually working higher, up the inside of her creamy thighs.

"So pretty, princess," you mutter under your breath, soft kisses at her smooth thighs that make her quiver a bit. "So, so pretty. Love your body, these long fucking legs... and this pretty little cunt. Love everything about you." 

You don't know whether it's the alcohol, or how good Wonyoung looks naked, covered in darkness with only the fireplace for illumination, but you just want to lavish her in praise as you mark up her thighs. Each one is met with a kiss, a slow press of your lips to that creamy skin, while you get so close to where you need to be. 

"Mm, daddy. All this is yours, you know," she says, breathing a little heavy. And you kiss up her beautiful skin as your mouth inches even nearer, hearing a faint gasp, knowing what's about to happen. You can't help but oblige, can't seem to control yourself when she's so slick and wet already. 

Wonyoung is beyond stunning, flat on her back on that rug that cost a small fortune, every inch of her skin exposed to your hungry gaze. The view itself is enough for you to savor, watching her chest rise and fall, her long legs parted like an invitation. That's all the teasing you can handle. 

So without a word, you lower yourself between her spread thighs, hearing the anticipation in her shaky breaths, her head leaning back when she senses how close you are, closing her eyes.

And she cries out so desperately once you make contact with your tongue flat, dragging slowly between the delicate, wet folds of her delicious little cunt. Addictive is the only way to describe this sweet, familiar taste as you shove your tongue deep inside her, so dripping and delicious, glistening from the arousal that you gather from each lick. 

"Oh god—"

Wonyoung can't hold a moan for even a moment. She tastes so fucking good, all this nectar dripping from the source as your mouth laps it all up, these noises that escape her mouth with each flick of your tongue, just begging to be devoured.

You don't even hesitate to give her everything she needs, latching your lips onto that sensitive clit and suckling with all your strength, mouth working hungrily as her fingers tangle into your hair.

"D-daddy—don't stop," Wonyoung moans, gasping, both her hands around the back of your skull, pressing you into that velvety flesh to keep your face buried. It isn't that hard to follow directions and stay where she wants, and you fucking love the way she pulls at your scalp, trying to grind into your mouth.

You feed that addiction, and with every frantic flick of your tongue into the slippery, hot depths of her pussy, you keep this feast going. These slurps and whimpers fight for supremacy, leaving her so overwhelmed. Fuck—her scent, that taste, and these desperate whimpers drive you insane, the perfect combination. The moans continue while you eat her out like you're starved, absolutely consumed with pleasuring her.

There’s nothing better than this. 

"Sh-shit, just like that, you're so f-fucking good, daddy," Wonyoung breathes out, melting on the rug as the grip in your hair only gets tighter, relentless. Her thighs hold you in place, firmly clamping onto the sides of your head to ensure you're not going anywhere anytime soon. Not that you would ever—not when this taste is on your tongue, so intoxicating, her juices an endless stream in your mouth.

"You taste so goddamn good—so wet, fuck," you murmur into her wet cunt, lips all coated as your tongue parts her soaked folds with rapid swipes, taking another series of harsh slurps, lapping it all up. "Can't get enough of you, princess."

This is where you make the most of spoiling Wonyoung, not that she hasn't been getting enough of that tonight. But eating her out like this—diving in, slurping away, there's just nothing like hearing the way she falls apart, squirming beneath your hungry mouth.

"Please, m-more," she whines, eyes screwed shut while your tongue shows no mercy on her drooling little cunt. You shoot a glance up every now and then from between her legs to drink in her reactions, nothing more beautiful than the bliss etched on her face, mouth hanging open, thighs squeezing so tight around your head. 

“Fuck, princess—” Barely able to breathe anything but her scent—it's exactly where you need to be, head between her legs, her taste lingering, devouring this pretty girl like nothing else matters.

"D-don't fucking stop," Wonyoung gasps, which isn't ever a plan when she tastes this good, her grip on your hair borderline painful as she tries to ride your face, struggling to form words. "Don't stop, god—please, daddy, please don't—"

That's the best encouragement you can get. Your lips get so greedy, so messy in the process, dragging from the sensitive bud of her clit all the way back down, sinking deep into her deliciously wet pussy with no restraint, lapping up and swallowing every drop.

"Oh g-god, daddy!"

She cries out so loudly you can feel it echoing through the large apartment, arching her back while she writhes against the surface of the rug, rocking her hips into your tongue. All it takes is a couple more ravenous licks until those thighs tense, refusing to let go, toes curling right at the moment of release. 

That's when Wonyoung moans the loudest, hands clutching at your head to hold you right there while she makes a mess all over your mouth, hips bucking, body trembling with a sudden surge as you work through every violent spasm. God, she looks gorgeous while you help her through this bliss, with lips sealed around her clit, suckling just the right way. She holds you in place, grinding on your tongue, riding it out while your tongue gathers it all up, all this arousal that won't go to waste.

"Shit, I'm—fuck, oh god," she continues to moan, breaths so erratic, and you don't stop lapping at this mess until she can't take any more stimulation. You look up, still slurping away on her clit, her entire body still twitching while her grip in your hair loosens, and only then do you ease up—giving as many more licks as possible, getting your fill until she forces your head away. 

"F-fuck, daddy's so good, made me cum so hard," she says after a breath, shaking through the last of this pleasure. And you're not done with her, cleaning up her soaked thighs, licks and kisses along every bit of flushed skin when your mouth finally stops devouring her dripping little cunt. "Felt so fucking good, love making a mess on your face like this..."

The feeling is more than mutual, and that's exactly what you've done, left her breathless, in a heap of exhaustion, her juices sliding down your chin, smeared everywhere. "Nothing better than having your tasty little cunt all over my lips." 

"D-daddy's too addicted, god," she gasps again, just as your tongue swipes back against her overstimulated clit, causing her entire body to jolt. "So s-sensitive, fuck, so—"

Another flick and she's a trembling mess again, and you have to fight the urge to bury your tongue right back in. You could do this for hours if given the chance. But the throbbing ache in your cock distracts—getting impatient while you rise, using every ounce of willpower to keep your mouth away.

"Looks like daddy needs to be taken care of too," Wonyoung says, observing how hard your cock has grown as you lift your body upright, knees right on this luxurious rug. "Come here, let's fix that—get your cock nice and wet."

That's the kind of offer you just can't pass up. Not when you have this girl's messy, delicious cunt eager for you to slide into. You get right into position, stroking your cock from base to tip while you stare right at her perfect little pussy, all parted and exposed, ready to be filled up. 

Neither of you can fight the shared desperation as you run your swollen cockhead along the wet flesh of her pussy, not pushing into her tightness quite yet, just taking it slow, tracing it along those slick lips. Wonyoung lets out a whimper that’s anything but subtle from this tease, and you don't know how much longer you can take, either. Because you know once you do push in—that familiar warmth around your cock, those tight, wet walls sucking you in, you'll never be able to leave without pumping a load deep. 

"Fucking fill me up, I want it," Wonyoung pleads, taking the decision off your hands. And god, that's all you need to hear as you shove yourself right inside that tight little cunt, parting her drenched folds to bury every inch at once, bottoming out with ease. "Oh g-god yes, make me cum again, fuck."

Wonyoung is every bit as tight, just as perfect and wet as the first time, and you can't even handle pulling back out, needing a moment just to savor this sensation before moving a single inch. "Feels so good, your tight little cunt—"

You cut yourself off with a groan, pulling out so agonizingly slow, but almost on instinct you give a deep, rough thrust, burying deep into this heat that's so incredibly addictive. One, and then a few more, both of you taking the time to enjoy the way your cock stretches her open, the wetness, how easy you glide through, the perfect warmth of her cunt begging for more.

"This feels too good, princess," you breathe out, almost not sure you can take the way she tightens around you, how all the wetness drenches your cock. And really, you're the one being spoiled now, pulling out and slamming back in with these full thrusts, savoring every inch of this girl you're addicted to—

It’s unfathomable how good her pussy feels, those moans, her slick walls clinging to your length. "Wet little cunt squeezing me like that. Can't just wait to milk the fucking life out of my cock, can you?"

A moan answers before she gets a chance to, and you really pick up the momentum, hips a little rougher, a little faster, your body unable to resist the temptation, letting lust overtake everything else. There's no holding back when you're buried so deep into her pussy, tossing a leg over your shoulder while you grip her thigh for leverage, getting that much deeper.

"Never can wait for daddy to finish inside my tight pussy," Wonyoung groans, such a perfect mess lying flat on her back, her breasts hypnotically bouncing every time your bodies collide. All this heat you're buried in, the wet sensations of her cunt taking you so eagerly, it makes it impossible to show any sort of restraint. "I love it when you're inside me, so big and stretching me out—more, daddy, need your cum. Don't stop." 

With a leg perched high on your shoulder, that's an easy request to fulfill, the tightness you plunge through demanding nothing else. Just fucking your cock into her, staring at her flawless face that contorts in pleasure, her pink pussy lips swallowing you whole. An addiction to your own demise and you know it. "God—so tight. Your perfect cunt always drives me fucking wild,"

"I know it does, daddy. You can't help yourself, can't help shoving this fat cock deep, filling me up with every inch of you, breeding me over and over. Fill me, fuck—"

Your eyes drift to hers, a stare that's so overwhelming, and she knows she has you right where she wants you—your hips might be the one pumping into this soaked warmth, but Wonyoung is clearly the one taking you apart with her little moans.

So fucking pretty, when she takes you like this, so easy to bury your shaft in her cunt, lost in all that velvety tightness. The moans pick up as you slam into her, driving yourself back in again and again as each thrust pulls more cries from her parted lips, little gasps and whimpers pouring out, chants for you to not stop. 

"Need daddy so deep in me, need that cock right up my guts," she says in such a demanding tone, eyes needy and wide, and there’s no possible denial when your cock is drowning in her juices. "You love pounding my pussy—being balls deep in me, isn't that what you need? What daddy needs to pump me full of that hot cum?" 

And there isn't anything you can say to deny that claim. 

The last bit of self control you possess is drained from hearing that—all it takes is a quick adjustment, lifting her other leg into a similar position, until they're both hoisted in the air, feet dangling, granting you unmatched depth. This angle works wonders on the both of you, giving you unfettered access to her cunt, spreading your legs to really slam deeper than before. 

Your thrusts start slow, taking a moment to gather yourself, knees firmly planted on this soft rug, Wonyoung’s perfect legs balancing in the air. Then you take these rapid snaps of your hips, groaning with every inch you piston in her dripping little hole, taking in the sight of her completely bare body. 

"Oh my god, that's—love you stuffing me so deep, faster, daddy!" Wonyoung gets out with more desperate, incoherent cries of approval that guide your hips as she gets all folded up and takes you, every thrust jolting her petite body. 

You don’t hesitate and do just that, sliding almost all the way out before slamming back in. The force pushes Wonyoung further into the rug, legs almost to her chest, with each slam of your cock causing this lewd, slick noise when you fuck your cock into these slippery depths. 

"Please don't stop," she practically sobs as the next series of deep thrusts go on and on, rough and urgent, nothing gentle about the way your cock plunges straight in. “S-so deep—fuck, feels too good. Don't ever stop fucking me, wreck my pussy, please, unload everything into my womb.” 

Your response is only to drill her harder, impossibly deep, that wet heat just pulling you in and not letting go. Her greedy pussy beckons you to bury yourself to the hilt with each slap of flesh, while your heavy balls bounce against her bare ass.

"My god, princess, your fucking cunt—“ It's damn near impossible to slow your pace now, not with how your cock impales Wonyoung’s tight pussy as she just takes every vicious stroke, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

All you can manage is another groan before trailing off, hips pistoning so frantically, and before you know it—she's already cumming on your cock, feet shaking in the air as the second orgasm rocks her body. And it's followed by another, the sensations too intense to bear, so overwhelmed by your relentless thrusts, toes curling while you keep drilling into her clenching little hole.

By this point, your bodies are covered in sweat, and not because of the warmth of the fireplace. 

Your hips spiral out of control, and you try so fucking hard not to let this end yet, but there's no holding out. Not when you look down and take in this view, seeing Wonyoung taking your cock like her pussy was made for you, tears rolling down her cheeks from how she can't stop gushing all over you, one orgasm melting into the next. 

Those long legs of hers are shaking so hard as you pound her cunt without restraint, the poor rug soaked from the mess she’s making—and you know it's going to be even worse once your release joins hers.

"D-daddy—" 

You can hardly make out her voice all broken as she tries to form words to no avail, sounding more and more fucked out by the second. 

"F-fuck, gonna cum," you bite out between deep, unstoppable groans, eyes glued to her beautiful face as you ram deep into such overwhelming wetness. God, it's never felt this good, this tight, making you lose it as you drive all the way back inside with an even harsher clench surrounding your cock, a promise not to let your cock go anywhere, no chance at escaping until your balls empty. 

"Fill me up, fucking make me a mess—want it deep in my cunt, don't stop until you’ve bred me." Her words trigger this primal urge in you to give in, the lewd squelches between the two of you increasing, no stopping the inevitable.

You can’t take anymore—one last set of thrusts, a final plunge, and you bury yourself as deep as you'll go. The tight grip of her greedy cunt is what makes you unload, a hefty load emptying out from your balls. Matching the intensity in her eyes, you pump massive, hot spurts inside Wonyoung that join her arousal in a thick mess that oozes around your length, nothing left in you but to fuck it deeper inside. 

Every shot empties right where she wants it, all your seed delivered in such a deluge as her clenching walls milk it all out of you, craving it, desperate for it. So much of it floods her to the brim that her cunt swallows up. Once you finally empty that last spurt and relax into your thrusts, you can't even begin to think about doing anything but staying buried deep inside. 

"Shit, all of that is—"

“Inside me. Mm, daddy pumped me so fucking full of his cum," she finishes, panting heavily, so worn out and yet the smile on her face tells you she's nowhere near satisfied. When you lower her legs down gently, they immediately wrap around your waist, holding you hostage inside that heat, keeping your creamy load safe in her cunt.

"And it's all yours," you say, but that's all you have the energy for as you collapse forward, burying your face into her neck. Wonyoung isn't going to let you go anytime soon—those legs are not letting go even after you're totally spent, cock still throbbing inside the grip of her cunt. 

That's more than fine with you, too exhausted, too breathless. There's no complaints here. Wonyoung kisses whatever sweaty skin she can find, soft and gentle pecks as she basks in your mess, dripping everywhere and getting this rug more than a little ruined. Something you won't be sorry about tomorrow.

The fireplace is burning still, but it's nothing compared to the heat still emanating between the two of you. Her hands cradle your head and rake through the mess of hair as you remain a tangle of limbs and fluids.

"Did that feel good, daddy? Feels so hot and sticky—my pussy full of you..." she mumbles into your ear, kissing up your cheek while you stay sheathed within her warmth, not daring to slip out.

You don't have the energy to say anything coherent, not that she ever needs an actual answer.

✦ ✦

And now you’ve both made your way back on the couch after resting up a bit and a much needed shower, lights on but dimmed, fireplace flickering in front of you. Yujin is here as well, back in her pajamas and a makeup-free face, indulging in the view of the clear, starlit night sky that looks so gorgeous through the apartment’s massive double-pane windows. Wonyoung is nestled in your lap, only in her bathrobe, holding a cup of fruit that she snacks on while a bottle of wine gets passed around. 

"So, daddy," Yujin starts, sitting so close that her hand rests on your thigh, fingers squeezing as she steals kisses and giggles. "Did we have fun tonight?"

You grab the bottle from Wonyoung and chug some before turning your attention to Yujin, needing a moment to stare at that pretty face before answering. "More fun once we got home."

"Better once we left that dumb club and daddy folded me in half and made me cum like, six fucking times." 

"Only six? Daddy should have tried a little harder," Yujin teases, taking a long sip from the bottle, looking so good when she does. 

"As if it takes much effort for her."

Wonyoung groans, grabbing the bottle back and finishing what's left. “Not my fault it takes nothing to have me creaming all over his fucking cock."

Yujin chokes out a laugh at how Wonyoung is turning this around and accusing you. “Who's the one begging for this dick nonstop? And who's the one who always makes us late for class because your legs can't stay shut for five minutes?"

"Whatever," Wonyoung pouts, only proving you're right. "Can't help if I wanna be dripping your cum down my thighs for these dumb lectures. It's the only way to not be bored out of my fucking mind."

As per usual, Yujin can't stop laughing at this whole exchange, content to just sit and watch. "Just admit you're both insatiable and leave it at that."

Wonyoung just glares like she's being falsely accused, kissing you before she can form her argument. She doesn't even have to when she can just crash her lips against yours, stealing every moment to slip her tongue in and taste the lingering sweetness of wine on your breath. "Says the slut who can't leave the bed in the morning without swallowing daddy's thick load."

There's no counter to that but a grin on Yujin, not the slightest bit ashamed for all the times you wake up to her skilled mouth between your legs before you're fully awake. "Caught me. Guess all three of us are hopeless."

"Two cumsluts and daddy who can't stop emptying his load in us every chance he gets. Guess we're just stuck with each other," Wonyoung says thoughtfully as she starts peppering soft kisses along your jaw, and Yujin runs her fingers through your hair, as if there's ever been any question. 

"Couldn't ask for anything better." 

✦ ✦

The morning hits like a truck. Even the littlest bit of sun peeking through the curtains is too fucking bright, with every movement you make forcing another groan out as you grab the sheets to avoid getting up. But when you roll over, you realize Wonyoung isn't here, nor is Yujin, the bed far too empty and cold for your liking. 

So there’s really no choice but to find strength somewhere and peel yourself out of the sheets.

Every step down the stairs gets heavier, no less drowsy as your feet finally land in the kitchen and spot Wonyoung who isn't faring any better, Yujin still nowhere to be seen. She barely grumbles out a little acknowledgment when you approach, slumped over the kitchen island, resting her head in her hands. The coffee pot is already halfway gone, away from its original spot, and thankfully, a bottle of aspirin sits alongside an empty mug.

You reach for the pills, popping a couple and chugging a glass of water while Wonyoung just stares at her steaming coffee cup, blank and mindless, struggling to function. Taking a seat next to her, you lean in for a quick kiss to her cheek, brushing dark hair out of her face. A glance over finds her looking worse for wear—wearing the same clothes she went to bed in, a little white tank top and black boyshorts with a pair of Yujin's fuzzy purple socks you gave her on her last birthday. 

"H-hey," you murmur, and pour a cup of coffee with what's still left. A grumpy nod is the only reply you’re getting as you stare into that cup like a trance. 

"Never drinking that fucking much again," Wonyoung groans under her breath. And you can't help but chuckle, because that's the most absurd thing you've heard since the two of you met. Yet, you're surprised to even see her in this state, given Wonyoung and hangovers typically don't co-exist.

"Heard that before," you say, barely having the energy to sit upright as you rub your temple.

"I mean it this time. Feels like a train ran over me," she sighs, still staring ahead without even taking a sip. "That club was a fucking stupid idea."

She sounds so out of it, that it's almost adorable. So very not Wonyoung. Hair all over the place, makeup all but gone, eyes puffy and dark. It's certainly strange seeing her like this, lacking her usual spark.

"Where's Yujin?"

Wonyoung looks up briefly to answer, but even that is a little laborious. "Getting us breakfast from that café around the corner and whatever else will get me out of feeling like death. Because apparently she's perfect and doesn't get hangovers anymore."

That makes sense, but also comes as a bit of a surprise. Wonyoung, so perfectly put together and reserved at times, with Yujin more on the outgoing, spontaneous side. Rare are the moments where roles are reversed like this. 

And while you share Wonyoung's pain, there's some solace in knowing Yujin is doing far better. 

"... you've just been sitting here until she gets back?"

There's as much annoyance mixed in as there is fatigue when she makes her best attempt to shoot a glare, not quite nailing the usual impact. "Daddy—it's either sit here with coffee or spend the next two hours fucking throwing up."

It’s almost comical how there’s a little brat left in her even in this state. All you do is nod in sympathy and caress her messy, tousled hair, stroking idly.

A few moments of comfortable silence pass, until the door interrupts. At once, her face changes. The mere sound of keys fiddling is enough to grab her attention, looking at the door, and that glare fades away.

Sure enough, Yujin emerges, dressed far better than either of you can pull off in jeans and a sweater that does wonders for that gorgeous frame, a hint of makeup and perfectly styled hair, looking so refreshed. For a moment, you're even a little envious, at how not one hint of a hangover shines through those eyes. 

"My poor babies. Looks like you could use this," Yujin teases with a grin on her face, putting down brown paper bags on the kitchen island, clearly enjoying every bit of this a little too much. She pulls out a container and sets down a massive stack of pancakes, followed by two bottles of orange juice, a bowl of fruit, scrambled eggs, and everything under the sun to pick and choose from. "Yujinnie is going to take good care of you two."

When she finishes unpacking everything, already you feel back to life just by how good everything smells.

"About fucking time," Wonyoung replies rather bluntly, grabbing both a bottle of juice and aspirin, unsure which to be more grateful for at the moment. You, however, have never been happier, stabbing a piece of the pancake and shoving it in your mouth as quickly as possible, a heavy dose of sugar and carbs the cure to fix everything.

"Daddy's favorite. Eat up," Yujin adds, kissing your forehead before she leans next to Wonyoung to do the same. Despite the grumpiness, there's a faint hint of a smile that appears on her lips. Just the faintest. It's hard for that sparkle to not appear when there's whipped cream, fresh strawberry slices, and syrup layered on each delectable morsel that she shoves in her mouth.

"Th-thanks, Yujinnie—" Wonyoung barely manages, a rare expression of gratitude given her current state, voice muffled by the ravenous bites that she consumes in such quick succession. 

Yujin sinks into the spot right next to you, and waits for your next bite so she can feed it to you, cutting a piece and then putting the fork back in your mouth. Again and again, while Wonyoung devours hers on the opposite end. You don't necessarily need her to baby you, but it's sweet nonetheless. And clearly, she enjoys feeding you like this, giggling before dipping more pancake into a puddle of syrup, a generous amount for the next bite.

Bite after bite, you feel less like you've been run over and more your old self. Yujin continues, almost on autopilot as she feeds you a continuous supply of pancakes and bacon that gets washed down with plenty of juice, a quick kiss or threading fingers through your hair in between. And Wonyoung, she’s recovering nicely as she uses her fork to shovel some banana slices into her mouth after dipping them into a healthy dollop of whipped cream. 

"Feeling a little better?" And before you can answer, Yujin steals a bite the next time the fork stops, sporting a grin as it disappears past her lips.

"Getting there, thanks. Fuck, really needed this," you mutter back, not quite coherent yet, but words getting easier to forn the more food you get into your system.

"You should rest up," Yujin says, keeping her attention on you, and you’ve never been more thankful to be on the receiving end of her loving care. “Want me to go start a nice, hot shower for the two of you?" 

On any other day, that offer might be too good to pass up, an extended, lazy shower together with Wonyoung. But today? You'll be lucky to manage anything other than collapsing face-first on the first comfortable surface you find. 

Wonyoung seems to share the unspoken desire to do absolutely nothing for the time being, and can only shake her head, refusing in total. "Too much effort," she grumbles, brushing hair out of her face and adjusting the tight white tank top clinging to her skin. 

Yujin just laughs. "You two are so cute when you're this helpless."

You don't even have the energy to respond. 

And when the pancakes are all gone, your head still pounds, but less like a jackhammer and more of a dull ache you can almost tolerate. There's only one thing on your mind as soon as you stand and head for the couch, Wonyoung following shortly after. Meanwhile, Yujin disappears for a moment, returning with a pile of throw blankets, extra pillows, bottles of water and more aspirin she sets on the coffee table.

"Okay, yell if you need anything else," she says, and with a final kiss to each of your cheeks, she’s already disappearing on her way upstairs. "Love you both."

Barely able to answer, you mumble out an incoherent sound and find your way to a comfy spot on the couch, sinking into the cushions. Wonyoung joins, easily collapsed under this warm blanket with her body pressed against you without a word and her head resting on your chest. All snuggled up, it doesn't take long for your eyelids to start closing.

Sometime later, you start to stir, eyes opening just slightly as you realize a few hours must have passed. By the sight of the floor lamp dimmed, the lights in the living room and kitchen off, all signs point toward nighttime, sunlight no longer flowing through the large glass windows in the living room.

There's a weight holding you down that makes it impossible to move, and you know there’s only one culprit—it's Wonyoung, still knocked out, in no hurry to get up either. And that wouldn't be a problem. If not for all that coffee and juice from earlier. 

"Princess—gotta get up for a bit," you mumble, nudging Wonyoung in hopes it'll do the trick. 

"N-no," she groans in protest, so utterly immobile. "Sleep. Don't move. Daddy's too comfy."

"I'll be right back. Need the bathroom, won't take long."

But that doesn't do a thing. Wonyoung refuses to budge, cuddling even tighter to trap you. "Stay. You're warm. Five more minutes." Not like you have an option, with this girl clinging to you, showing zero interest in letting you free.

But five more minutes could easily turn into more—so when those are up, there's not a choice. "Fucking brat, let me out. I'll be quick, promise." You force yourself away regardless of protests, a bigger struggle than necessary. 

"You better—can't sleep well without you."

Not even a minute passes before you return, and she's already stolen every inch of the blanket, all wrapped up, legs outstretched with her fuzzy socks peeking out. You crawl back under the blanket, returning to where Wonyoung demands your warmth the most, and she instantly clings to you again, one arm draped lazily over your chest. This time, for sure, she's not letting you escape anytime soon. 

"Missed you, daddy."

"Wasn't even gone that long."

"But it felt like forever," Wonyoung mumbles, using your body as a pillow. “Now daddy can't leave, ever." 

And she goes back to sleep like nothing ever happened, snuggled into your chest with a leg thrown over you. You pat her head, and now all that’s left is to sleep until you hardly even remember what having a hangover even is. 

✦ ✦

"Oh, hello, handsome.” 

That sultry, playful tone can only be one person, Yujin right by your side once you’ve awoken again. "Thought you were gonna sleep an entire week." 

There's a kiss planted on your cheek when she steps in view, and that's what sends your eyes fluttering awake—right along with her hand running a comforting path along your face. "Almost did."

Yujin smiles before you push yourself upright, eyes landing on Wonyoung's mountain of blankets, with no sign of her inside. She ruffles your hair as you try to regain your senses, already knowing what you’re about to ask. “She’s in the shower. Taking a long time though… even for her.” 

You don’t think much of it, given that Wonyoung taking long showers is about as common as the sun going down. But there’s this look on Yujin’s face like she knows something you don't. 

A mischievous smile is how that ends, with Yujin placing an arm behind you on the couch. "How was your nap? Feel better after a bit of rest?"

"Way fucking better," you sigh, finally relaxing fully upright in the couch. 

While you wait for Wonyoung's return, you grab a bottle of water sitting on the coffee table—tossing back a couple painkillers to help with any lingering discomfort. And almost on cue, you hear footsteps echoing down the stairs, growing louder. 

Standing at the top of the steps is Wonyoung in a black silk robe, the material thin but not enough to hide what's underneath, stockings hugging her slim legs as the tie of her robe sits loose.

 Her face is all dolled up, perfectly styled hair framing her flawless features, with a sheer red lipstick and dark eyeshadow to finish it off. She still looks stunning—a confident smile on her pretty face as her eyes land right on you. 

"Finally awake, I see. Took long enough," Wonyoung says with the slightest hint of annoyance, as if she wasn’t begging you not to leave before. 

Yujin is laughing right next to you as Wonyoung saunters over. "Don't act like you two hungover idiots didn't both sleep the entire day."

Wonyoung barely acknowledges Yujin, striding toward you in these black stiletto heels, like a graceful model taking every step to perfection. There's a mystery hidden under the robe, and you can't wait for it to be revealed. "Daddy kept me waiting, so I came up with a little something..."

You raise an eyebrow. "You could have woken me—"

"You think I didn't try, dummy? Thought you were dead for a while," Wonyoung says and grabs your wrist to yank you up. Before you get another word out, she's peeling you off the couch and guiding you upstairs towards whatever bedroom is her target.

A shut door and a deep kiss on your lips later, and you’re being backed up towards the bed. A playful shove comes next, then you’re scooting back on the mattress, eager to learn what's under that silk. And so begins the slow process, where she unties the belt of her robe, tantalizingly slow as she draws out each second.

The black satin falls right off her perfect body and crumples in a pile at her feet. You're left with quite the image to take in—Wonyoung looking like absolute sin in this set of black lingerie that covers so little, lace and garters and sheer stockings, the whole package, those stilettos emphasizing everything. 

The finishing touch, the image captured in the tall mirror on the door, Wonyoung’s tight little ass that fills out her lacy black underwear, your attention traveling up from head to toe, absolute perfection filling the reflection. 

"Surprise, daddy," Wonyoung says, hands resting on her hips while you marvel at her sexy little ensemble—a finger tilting your head up to her face for a kiss, right on your shocked lips.

There's no way you're not staring. 

“Fucking hell, princess.” 

Not that you even know where to stare, because there's lace everywhere—pushing up her tits, hugging her slender waist so tight, clinging to every delicious morsel of her petite figure. Those stockings alone are pure filth that you indulge yourself in, drinking in how they accentuate those endless legs, leaving you foaming at the mouth to kiss every inch of them. 

The thing about Wonyoung's brazen displays of confidence is that they're well earned. She knows what her body does, knows how good it all looks—especially when covered in lace and the sexiest fucking stockings you've seen. This tight body can make anyone drop to their knees.

"Daddy's fucking drooling," she says, amused and basking in this view of you helpless and stunned. And what can you really say—what can you really do but just stare shamelessly? 

"Because my princess looks fucking gorgeous. So goddamn beautiful, god, you're just—“ 

“I’m everything. I’m yours, and you’re mine.” 

That doesn't even feel like enough praise, but Wonyoung lights up regardless, clearly enjoying the attention as you caress one leg, fingers running over the soft, sheer fabric of her stockings. It’s hard to resist the temptation to rip them all off with your teeth. 

"I would look so good in this on my knees, sucking daddy's fat cock. Looking up while I choke on it—you can picture it, can't you?"

Without a doubt, the thought of Wonyoung's perfect, pouty lips sliding over your cock in this lingerie gets your dick throbbing hard. It's almost pathetic, how much it stirs at the smallest of things, and she barely needs to tease when you're already salivating at the idea.

"Daddy needs to bend me over the bed and rip this thong right off, doesn’t he? Shove his huge cock in me, fuck me raw, rough and hard till I cum all over it—"

And god, does she know exactly what to say. The filthy imagery fills your head as you lick your lips, a hand brushing up her thigh, slowly to that tiny strip of lace covering her gorgeous pussy. "Princess—"

"Or maybe daddy is still too tired to do all that," Wonyoung interjects before you can think, chuckling as her voice turns more wicked. "Maybe you need me to jump on that hard cock, ride it like a good little whore. Use it the way I want. Until I make you pump another load inside this perfect pussy. Doesn’t that sound nice?"

You can’t possibly be expected to form an answer when she looks like this, all wrapped up and not a thing left to the imagination. A gentle squeeze to her stocking-clad thigh is about the only thing you can do that constitutes a response. 

With the aching arousal surging between your legs as your imagination runs wild, she doesn't miss a moment to place your hands directly on her ass, letting you get a plentiful handful of the flesh in your palms.

"I want you to strip. Right now. Leave the boxers,” Wonyoung commands as she watches the lust grow stronger, not even having to look down to see you've got a massive erection that’s her job to relieve. Now it’s your turn to do as you're told, giving a brief nod while taking your shirt off, then the rest as quickly as you can while she watches every moment.

"On the bed, daddy. On your back." 

Naturally, that comes without argument or resistance. Not like there's much you can really offer, thrown for a complete loop the moment Wonyoung slipped off her robe. Just as soon as you've relaxed back against the pillows, Wonyoung climbs onto the bed, crawling towards your position, close enough so the tent in your boxers is mere inches away from her beautiful face, admiring as she nears. 

"Look at that perfect fucking cock. Looks so big in those boxers," she murmurs, palming it as she speaks, every single word getting to your throbbing shaft. "Should I put these pretty lips on your hard, aching dick? Make it nice and wet before I straddle it and show exactly what a good cocksleeve is?"

Your mouth opens, but you manage little more than a small groan in acknowledgment. It's more than difficult to think straight when she looks at you like that, with these sultry, seductive eyes that just aren't fair, stroking ever so lightly over the front of your underwear.

“Feel good, daddy? I know you want to fuck me. God, I want that so bad too—but I have a few extra things planned.” 

When you see that smirk on her face as she grips your cock, you know she hasn’t planned this alone. You don’t even know where her accomplice is right now, knowing how Yujin loves to watch as much as participate. The fact is, you'll let Wonyoung take all the credit, because you know she’s more than capable of this. 

She’s got you all riled up, on her own, with a slow squeeze around the head of your cock that’s unbearable. 

You want those beautiful, plump lips wrapped around your cock, more than anything. The image can’t leave your mind—Wonyoung between your thighs, making a mess. You’re distracted. Barely noticing as she leans over to the nightstand to slide open a drawer. 

And then she pulls out a set of pink padded leather cuffs, dangling from her fingers. "Here's the real surprise. Yujinnie was kind enough to let me use her toys... and I know daddy wants to get his greedy hands all over me. So that's why we're using these. Now, arms up.” 

You can't say this is what you were expecting, but you're not exactly protesting either.

Another attempt to form words fails, and you need a moment to hesitate—something Wonyoung doesn’t care for. She crawls over your body, kneeling over your chest as you make your eventual decision. 

“Daddy, I said arms up—“

Wonyoung repeats the demand with a surprising amount of calm and patience. And this time, you don’t think it over any more than necessary, wrists held up above your head. In a heartbeat, the soft leather straps clasp around both wrists, keeping them secured to the headboard. You'd be lying if you claimed this was totally foreign territory—but you're used to seeing Yujin with a smile on her lips putting the cuffs on you, not Wonyoung, who's become far bolder in the bedroom since.

So once you feel the leather securing your wrists to the back of the bed, Wonyoung runs her hands along them, testing them a few times just for good measure, unable to hide her satisfaction in watching you struggle. 

"There we go," she purrs. “Daddy looks so good in these…” 

She's already moving down between your legs, eager to get you naked as her fingers slide under the waistband of your underwear. a slight pause while she eyes the massive tent she's caused, thumb massaging idly. 

And with a forceful tug, your underwear is only a brief memory as Wonyoung tosses the garment aside. Her nails trace up your naked thighs, her cold hands lingering right below where you ache the most.

"What should I do first, hm? Suck your dick? Play with these heavy fucking balls? Or maybe just tease daddy’s big fucking cock through my panties—you think that'll drive you crazy?”

So many options, you're not sure how to even process anything beyond the blinding arousal as she stares with those devilish eyes at your throbbing, desperate cock leaking between her fingers.

"Maybe daddy doesn't get a choice. Maybe I just fuck you the way I want," she says, fingers squeezing your shaft, precum oozing out with no end in sight. "Keep you tied up and ride the fuck out of this huge fucking cock. Or if you're lucky—maybe I let you in my ass, since you like it so much."

That's the thing that makes you squirm with need—

Having her tight little ass sinking down on your cock, balls deep, clenching around you and milking you dry—that's a thought that refuses to budge. But while you're imagining all that, Wonyoung focuses on bringing these thoughts to life and slaps your cock hard, not afraid of the reaction as it throbs even stronger. "Daddy gets my pussy first. So I guess you’ll just have to earn my tight asshole."

You're only left staring with eyes wide open as she peels off her barely-there panties, sliding them down so agonizingly slow, revealing every delicious detail hidden underneath. And for your own benefit, her heels stay on as she spreads those long, long legs to give the full view, pussy pink and glistening wet, and oh so inviting.

"Princess—"

"No talking, daddy. That mouth is only for licking my pussy or sucking my tits. Nothing else, okay?"

There's no time to react as Wonyoung lifts the black thong to your mouth, forcing you to take in her scent while her soaked panties drag against your lips. "Can't wait to have this throbbing cock filling my tight little pussy. Doesn't that sound perfect?"

All you can offer are a couple muffled nods while she stuffs those lacy panties into your mouth. The thought alone is intoxicating, especially with how you can taste her arousal on them. She knows you're at her mercy, taking the time to slide up your body, grinding her bare cunt against you on the way down, stockings rubbing against your bare skin. 

But this isn't Wonyoung's usual play—you know she doesn't have the restraint for much else, which only works to your advantage. She’s not Yujin. She isn’t going to drag this out. The urgency in her movements tells you that she wants you buried deep inside her as much as you do, but that doesn't mean she can't savor some moments along the way.

"Daddy needs this, doesn't he? This beautiful cock buried in my pussy—squeezing you so fucking tight, like it was made just for me," Wonyoung tells you like she's teasing herself, a few rapid pumps while her hand leans it against her toned stomach, showing how deep you’ll reach inside.

You struggle for a response, not that you can say much with these soaked panties stuffed in your mouth. Wonyoung lets out this devious little smile as she grinds her slick pussy along your shaft, the warmth so abundant that it has you thrusting upwards on instinct. 

"Aw, daddy can't answer, can he? Want to fuck this tight fucking pussy? Want me to sink down, nice and deep, balls fucking deep—that's all you can think about, right?"

Again, a desperate nod is the best answer you can provide in your stupor, a cloud of desire slowly creeping over your ability to think straight. 

"Daddy doesn't even need to say—I already know you're so fucking desperate for this," she says, lifting up and rubbing that wet little cunt against the sensitive tip that throbs under the littlest touch. 

Desperate doesn't even begin to cover it, pent up from the littlest stimulation Wonyoung grants. And you couldn't even beg with these panties in your mouth even if you wanted to.

"Mmm, looks so big in my little hands—and all of it is going to stretch my pretty little pussy. Because that's what daddy's needy cock is best for, right?" This time, you can't even get out a nod, eyes glued to how she rubs you between her sopping folds, this final tease when she drags you through all that arousal. 

Then, a few lazy strokes. No friction, no satisfying stimulation to alleviate this overwhelming craving. It's infuriating.

"Wonder how deep it will reach. How deep your fat fucking cock will reach inside—splitting me wide open. Until daddy can't resist and spills his cum into this warm hole."

God, it’s exactly what you’re desperate for, those tight lips parting to fit your aching cock. Wonyoung raises her hips and guides your swollen cockhead, not patient enough to let the teasing linger. Her weight drops, and then you’re inside her—every inch she can take, so deep as you both crave.

You don't even fight back a muffled groan while her hips take over, rolling to savor the stretch, the deliciousness of being filled, a perfect straddle with a leg on either side to take you to the hilt. 

"Oh—so fucking full. I can't, f-fuck, daddy feels so fucking amazing, god—this huge fucking cock stuffed inside me where it belongs."

One slow lift of her hips follows another, the sinful wet sounds filling the room with how deliciously slick her pussy is. She envelops your length with ease, the tight grip her cunt holds making your whole body shudder, making your wrists jerk against the restraints, utterly helpless.

That puts a smile on her face. There's no end to this warmth or the slippery glide that swallows you up with no need for adjustment, alternating between harsh drops of her hips and the rolling that sinks every inch of your cock, squeezing you like she knows you need.

“God—how deep is your cock reaching, daddy?" Wonyoung asks through uneven, staggered breaths, head hanging over your own, braced and riding you at this angle where you reach the best place possible. 

Her head snaps back in pleasure, red lips parting as each calculated movement hits just right. And you can't look anywhere else as her entire body slams down on repeat, nothing that could bring herself to stop. 

"Love when this fucking cock fills my wet little pussy—“ A simple groan escapes when she slides up halfway, pausing for impact before dropping down hard again. "When this cock splits me open and makes me cum my fucking brains out. When your heavy fucking balls spill everything in me—god, I love being a slut for daddy to breed, a perfect little cum dump for those huge fucking loads."

"Princess—" you try to say through the fabric, though it comes out every bit muffled, the sound inaudible through these endless bounces.

"What is it, daddy? You wanna breed me already? Is this tight fucking pussy too much to handle?” she asks and gyrates her hips, clenching tight on the way down. Her palms rest on your bare chest, nails digging in while she impales herself on your length with these harsh bounces. 

Another tug on instinct that jerks the headboard back, as if you have any hopes of pulling free, left to watch as she does whatever she wants. With your mouth crammed with lace, there's no fighting these sounds, no chance of anything you say becoming audible. All the same, Wonyoung understands every little muffled noise, finding the perfect angle, every fucking drop that keeps your cock drowning in this slippery warmth.

"Almost there, daddy. You're doing so well—such a good fucking stretch, making my pussy so wet," she breathes out with her head tossed back, ass bouncing on your lap. Whenever your length goes impossibly deep, Wonyoung groans with each rise, these delicious noises that you can’t get enough of. "R-right there, that's the spot."

She bounces that petite frame with reckless abandon, hair a total mess falling around her, hips moving as fast as they can. The bed frame rattles, creaking from how hard those thighs slam down, letting out an audible slap of flesh on every impact, juices glistening from your cock as you stay stuffed in her tight cunt.

Again, you try in vain to utter the words. It's a hard enough task through this balled-up fabric in your mouth, and yet she senses the effort. But that doesn't mean she acknowledges it, far too lost in the sensations as those strokes come with intent—hands pressing down, palms splayed on your chest to guide each slam into her cunt.

"You're gonna make me cum, fuck—so deep in me, daddy. Oh my god, feels so fucking good,” Wonyoung cries out, slick gliding her effortlessly down every inch, using her cunt in the most selfish way possible as the edge looms. 

And that's enough to have you straining harder against the leather cuffs. She's close, the look of desperate, endless bliss etched onto her features when she gets her hips on autopilot, losing all sense of control. 

"Oh fuck, g-gonna fucking cum!” Then she’s right there, the fabric of her stockings rubbing against you when your bodies collide with such frantic desperation. Wonyoung bounces and bounces, refusing to let up, fucking you so goddamn good to chase own release.

Her orgasm hits, and it hits hard—fucking herself through a blinding rush of bliss. It's wet, messy, and god, her pussy just keeps spasming around you, that high going and going while her body shakes, thighs quivering so violently. 

She doesn't ease up on you either, riding like she’ll never get enough, eyelids heavy and head tossed back as she tries to keep going—too delirious to get another word out. Her warm little hole clamps like a vice on your entire length, overwhelming you with all these intoxicating sensations. Such a vibrant image, the sight of Wonyoung struggling to not fall apart while she rides your cock, mind filled with nothing but endless ecstasy.

"F-fuck," is all that comes out from Wonyoung when she brings her hips to a sudden halt and falls forward, removing her panties from your mouth and pulling you into a deep kiss. It's every bit intense and heated, your lips so easily captured, her tongue shoved in your mouth like it belongs there. "S-so good, so, fucking good—daddy made me cum so fucking hard."

Wonyoung is breathless, sweat beading all over, the glow on her skin and satisfaction in her features when her gaze meets yours once again.

"Now daddy must be dying to cum," she finally says through all these pants and gasps while her forehead rests against yours, that impossible to break eye-contact trapping you as your hard cock throbs so deep inside the snug, velvety grip of her cunt.

"You have no idea, wanna fill you, cum deep inside—" 

"Poor daddy. Your balls must be getting so heavy," Wonyoung laughs, giving an overwhelming roll of her hips, as if you weren't aching enough. She cups your face and leans in close, looking at the pink leather wrapped around your wrists. "Daddy must need those off—do you deserve to get your hands all over me when your cock fills my ass?"

"Yes, fuck yes—wanna be buried in your ass, wanna feel how tight you are,” you reply almost instantly, because like hell would you choose otherwise. Wonyoung simply smiles at the desperation on display, taking her time as she carefully undoes the handcuffs and sets you free, one at a time, tossing them aside. 

“Is that where daddy wants to cum? Deep inside my tight little asshole? Sounds so good—fill my ass with all your sticky fucking seed, wanna feel it flood right out of me. Don’t keep me waiting then.” 

As much as you love this tight cunt, the urge for something more has been clawing away. And now that you've been given free rein to do what you please, there's only one place your cock needs.

So just like that, Wonyoung climbs off, all that wetness dripping everywhere when your swollen cock springs free from her heavenly cunt.

She crawls over to the far end of the mattress, knowing what has to come next as she unhooks her bra, tossing that off and out of the way, leaving nothing on her but delicious heels and stockings. You see every curve from behind, watching closely while she gets on all fours, ass looking like absolute perfection, leaving you to salivate once Wonyoung gathers some pillows to hover over.

"Pound me—fucking pound my ass hard. Daddy doesn't need to go easy. I want that dick in my ass, wanna feel all of you stuff me fucking full," she breathes out. 

And even while she says that, you need a moment to stroke your cock and stare, marveling at those creamy cheeks that are about to be your new home. But like the brat said—don't keep her waiting. 

Shuffling over to the bedside table, you barely need to search, finding the small bottle practically empty. Enough left to slide your cock in, and that’s all that matters. And then you’re in position right behind Wonyoung, her sinful little body all there for you to take—

The cap opens, and your hand grips her supple ass, squeezing for a good moment before slicking your length with the cool liquid. Wonyoung, of course, shows impatience when you slide a slippery finger past that tight ring of muscle—a second one quick to join after, both working into her knuckle deep and sinking them in further. 

It's a routine you could do blindfolded. In your sleep, so well rehearsed at this point. The rim of her puckered hole accepts you with such ease, a slight moan slipping when you're halfway, quick to escalate the impatience you both share.

"Hurry up, get your big fucking dick in me, god—"

That's the plan. 

But that's difficult when your fingers have a mind of their own, pumping in and out to enjoy the tightness, how good her ass looks taking them deep. After all, it’s only fair to return the favor and tease her. Not like your cock isn’t aching to get inside either—so a momentary detour is plenty justifiable. Especially with these pathetic whimpers while you finger her asshole.

Her ass just feels too good to let up, a thumb running along her tight little rim, playing and toying until you reach the breaking point.

And then you take your cock, slapping it against those cheeks to get any kind of relief you can get—a few more teasing smacks before you line up. She's ready for it, pleading to be filled when you press your swollen cockhead right along her slicked-up back entrance, ready to sink into heaven and lose yourself. 

But there’s just one more thing missing—

Looking back, you spot the discarded handcuffs, abandoned on the edge of the bed and practically calling out to you. You don’t think twice about making use of them, picking them up in haste. 

And Wonyoung doesn't even see this coming. Her eyes widen with anticipation as you seize her wrists one by one, pulling them behind her back and securing them in place, the click from the final clasp far too satisfying. 

"Fucking brat thinks she's the only one allowed to surprise people," you say, giving her plump ass a sudden spank as a startled gasp fills the room. She tries to look back from over her shoulder, struggling with the way her arms are bound.

"Daddy, p-please, need your cock—“ 

"Shut up, little fucking slut." Another sharp hit on each side of her ass makes the flesh redden with bright handprints, each more aggressive than the previous. These perfectly round cheeks on total display the best canvas as your palm does as it pleases. 

There’s no protesting on her end despite this ambush, and she knows exactly what she’s started, riling you up like this, driving you to such actions—desperate to be put in her place. 

You can't say you've seen a better sight. Wonyoung's back arched with those slender arms held together behind, no choice but to keep that round ass in the air, ripe for the taking. That's the part you focus on most of all, these pale cheeks reddening with your strikes, squeezing them apart, her hungry little hole awaiting your thick cock. "Now the princess gets to be all helpless, doesn't she?" 

Not that she doesn't enjoy the restraint, she revels in it. Hell, she's the reason these handcuffs are even here in the first place. Because they look so good on her when she's begging to be fucked.

"Fucking brat actually likes being handcuffed and punished, huh? Being all helpless and vulnerable when she's taking this cock." She has no counter to that, no means to reply—and her entire demeanor shifts, voice coming through with this timid, flustered tone.

"Daddy, p-please, shove your cock inside, fuck me, pound my asshole—"

“I said shut up, slut. Do I have to gag you with your own fucking panties, princess? Or maybe something else, I'm sure Yujin has something useful around." 

Another harsh slap, hitting the exact same place. The red hue only grows darker while you give another, even harder, followed by a half-dozen more, each one stinging more than the last. 

"N-no, need daddy to hear me when that cock stretches my ass, p-please…"

She melts into submission without any real effort, losing any hope of resistance with the dozen or so smacks on that tight little ass that make her body jolt with each one. “Gonna open you up so wide, ruin daddy’s pretty little fuckdoll, make sure you can’t sit straight for a fucking week.” 

And that’s your cue to end this teasing. 

When the whimpering gets desperate, and the torture has lasted for too long. Pressing the swollen tip to her puckered entrance, Wonyoung groans when you inch in slowly, until her ass swallows you up. 

"God, princess," is all that you choke out as she slowly takes every inch without issue, letting out a sigh with you buried to the hilt. Every breath is ragged, shallow, and unsteady when you start thrusting, everything so warm and tight around your throbbing length. 

But the tightness, god—there's no greater sensation than this hot little asshole welcoming you, all of you. Each stroke becomes an impulse, sliding slowly and deep as you pull out halfway, just to enjoy the way she sucks you back in. 

"Mm, fuck, daddy—s-so good, so full," is all Wonyoung can manage, face into the pillows with her hands behind her back, turned enough so you can still make out her features—and all the pleasure etched there as you pump. "God, more, need you pounding me hard. Didn't I tell you to not take it fucking easy?" 

That's what earns her another hard slap on her ass, one with plenty of force behind it at that sudden defiance that loves to creep up. A reminder that even when her wrists are bound together, she takes what she wants. And once you slide out and right back in, a smack comes down so hard she clenches tight around your shaft, anticipating the pain that follows while you stay buried to the hilt, balls pressed up against her ass. 

Because even as you reward her with more punishing smacks to those creamy, pale cheeks already tarnished with fresh handprints—you know the one thing she hates most is denial.

So that's what you'll do, stay lodged all the way up inside, not moving a single inch. And from the look on her face, Wonyoung catches on, expression fading into something disappointed when she tries to push her hips back. 

"Don’t even think about it, princess," you warn, holding her hips firmly in place. "Not moving an inch until you learn to behave."

"Daddy wouldn't. Know you need to fill up my tight little asshole until I’m gaping and leaking with cum."

Her entire demeanor changes on a dime with those words, looking back like she's the one in control, despite her situation. 

"Wouldn't I? Don't test me. I can easily walk out that door and leave you like this for as long as I fucking want. Find Yujin instead and fill her cunt with the load that's meant for your ass."

"You wouldn't dare—"

"Wanna try me and find out? I'll go track her down, throw her legs over my shoulders and pound that beautiful pussy while all you can do is listen. It'll be her hair I'm pulling, not yours. Her pretty toes in my mouth. Her gorgeous face I'll be painting with my cum—not your slutty fucking holes.” 

"D-daddy, p-please!" she says, voice trembling at the threat. "Need you to stay in my ass, use me like a good little whore—"

"Oh, so now you're good? Only when it's convenient to you, is that it, brat?"

"N-no, just don't leave—don't go fuck Yujin instead. Need you to stay in me and finish."

Like you could ever do anything but that. That ass is absolutely fucking irresistible, the strength required to deny its grasp—it's impossible. 

Besides, you've had your fill of games. Not one more second to waste, your cock needs that tight fucking ass. So once again, you pull those hips back with you and slam into her ass with even more force, shoving every last inch to bury deep. And then you do it again and again, the resounding slap filling the room, hearing her helpless little moans after every thrust. 

"There you go—daddy's in my ass so fucking deep. Knew you couldn't go without your favorite cum dump," she murmurs through another strained moan, and that only makes your thrusts come harder, these unforgiving slams that are anything but gentle. 

If this is how she wants it, then it's a gift you can deliver. Because you're not going to have it any other way either, wanting to make good on your promise to make sure she can’t walk straight and then some. 

"Gonna fucking open you up so much, god, can't take how good this asshole feels, princess—"

Each thrust that buries deep feels so impossibly tight, suffocating your cock when you get balls deep, only staying for enough time to bottom out so you can pound back in once you slide out. 

It drives you fucking mad how tight and warm this hole you’re plunging yourself into, pulling her entire petite frame back whenever you withdraw. Another animalistic groan follows your hard pumps, burying yourself and stretching out her asshole as she's reduced to a moaning mess below you, head buried in a pillow and taking everything you give.

"F-fuck, love daddy's huge fucking cock," Wonyoung groans, taking the rough strokes you dish out with pride. “Love when you get so rough, when you lose control fucking my ass. I can't even do anything but take it like a good little slut." 

She gets it, god, she does. She knows exactly what all these moments do to you, get your body moving like you’re possessed. The way her reddened cheeks bounce when they meet your hips, and the mere sight of these fucking stockings on her never-ending legs makes it even better. 

You’re drunk on the bliss her body brings, and the feeling is mutual. Wonyoung is so eager to take everything you can give, gasping and pleading for even more, as if her ass isn’t the best thing you’ve buried your cock in. And you need more as much as she does, lifting yourself into a squat and leaning forward over her ass, pounding away with reckless abandon in this new angle that gets you even deeper. 

"F-fuck! Love this little asshole getting slammed, daddy’s fucking me so hard—mm, fuck, just like that. Fucking use me, use your greedy little slut, please—“ 

As if you’re even capable of anything else but pounding away at her ass while she drips all over the sheets. All you can even think about is getting deep between those cheeks while your heavy balls smack against her wet cunt, and you’re not sure you’re ever going to be able to leave even after you’ve left a hot, creamy load inside her. 

“Gonna cum so fucking hard in your ass when I’m done with you, slut. Fill it with my load and fuck it deep,” you growl, accentuating your words with a harsh slap to her cheeks, not letting her forget about the painful pleasure she’s addicted to. 

"Don't s-stop," she pleads, crying out when a palm collides again on her ass, craving that harsh sting more than anything. But that’s all she gets for now, putting your all into your hammering thrusts that slam her into the mattress. 

Wonyoung is taking it all like a champ, unable to even touch herself with these bound wrists, forced to endure whatever you give. All she gets to do is take what she deserves and more with every hard, unforgiving stroke that fills her. You need this—god, she fucking needs this just the same, each slam into her greedy little asshole getting more ferocious than the last, bordering on uncontrollable when her ass devours everything.

Not that she'd have you any other way.

"Just like that, nngh—oh god, fuck my ass, fill me up,” she begs, downright delirious from having this cock shoved up her ass, as you fuck into her little hole without any concern, pistoning deep in her tight depths. “Need you to ruin this ass—fill my gaping fucking asshole with cum, please—daddy, use me however you fucking want."

Those words really do you in. Almost as much as the tightness of her ass does. You’re completely lost in these mirrored desires, in the thrusts that spiral beyond control, so rough in her warm little hole that demands more, refuses to relent from such an unforgiving grip. 

You can’t even think about holding back anything now as you grab her handcuffed wrists and use them for leverage. And somehow, that gets you even more merciless—watching how those manicured nails form a fist, desperate to clench onto  anything as you drill her from behind, your eyes glued to where your shaft disappears. 

“You’re mine, princess, you hear that? All fucking mine, every little inch of your tight body.” 

"All yours," she manages out through the mind-numbing thrusts. "Always was, daddy. Just don't stop fucking me like this—"

Wonyoung can't help the desperate sounds that escape. She’s whining and whimpering, drool spilling onto the sheets when you get so deep, when her petite frame nearly gives out, almost unable to keep pace with her own demands. She really does struggle against her own self-control, and you're pretty sure if these handcuffs weren't on, there's not a doubt about the sheets she'd ruin with a hand between her thighs. 

You're fucking her into absolute incoherence, moaning between each harsh thrust and knowing there's no goddamn way to last. As you keep a wrist in your grasp, you reach down to give another hard spank across that pristine, pale flesh, not letting those bright red handprints ever fade. Because she deserves it, she's fucking earned every last one. Every single yelp that follows, the sting all over her sensitive skin that makes her clench tighter—the raw, crimson blush on those cheeks intent on making sure she’ll feel it for days. 

She lives for these spanks, the way your palm marks her, this soreness that feeds her arousal. The only way it could get better would be if Yujin were here—with a paddle in her hands, delivering as many as she can count.

It's that sensation of your hand connecting on each tender cheek, your cock impaling her ass while she remains so helpless, the stuttered little sounds when she takes it. All these things lead right up to the point you can't hold back a moment longer. With your hands back on her hips, the spanks cease in favor of giving your all, to ram in as deep and as hard as this little body can take.

"D-daddy's gonna cum so hard In this tight little hole, isn't he?" Wonyoung asks, more of a plea than a question, every word a little more slurred and broken. 

"Gonna pump you full, brat, fuck—" You feel it building, a steady pressure that has no chance of being contained. One more slap on that sore ass echoes through the room when your fingers dig into her sweaty flesh, and then you're holding her still, slamming your throbbing cock into her ass until the very last moment. 

Then you unload everything inside her. 

You let out a breathy groan as you pump it all deep inside her warm little asshole—one after another, each leaving you satisfied and breathless. Cum spills out in sticky, hot violent spurts as Wonyoung just moans with each shot her ass wrings out, working to empty your heavy balls inside this incredible tightness. 

She claims it all, her tight ass draining everything so desperately, every second a constant squeeze to milk you completely dry. 

It's filthy and sticky and, god, it's everything you need. What you both do. It never seems to stop, each heavy spurt bringing a new violent jerk of your hips that pounds it deep as those reddened cheeks swallow up the final remnants of your release. 

"Mmh, fuck—so full of daddy's cum, deep in my fucking ass. Daddy really destroyed my tight asshole and pumped me full, just how I needed.”  

Wonyoung still slurs her speech while not even thinking about letting you go. Not just yet. You'll stay here, buried in her ass knowing not to even try pulling away. Because those tender cheeks look so amazing stuffed full—nothing compared to what you’ll see the moments after you pull out.

"Good girl." 

That's all you mutter before leaning forward to press your weight down further on Wonyoung, increasing the angle enough so her body is flattened into the soft pillows below. There isn't an inch to move in this new position, your cock so snug all the way inside, still impaling her petite body to keep that creamy white load where it belongs. 

"N-no, not good—can't say that now," she murmurs, every word breathless with this fucked out expression etched on her face, biting her bottom lip and pressing her ass back the slightest. "Daddy's little fucking cumslut, you mean. Don't know the first thing about being good."

And what can you do but laugh while you pepper her flushed skin in kisses, some traveling down her shoulder, ending at the crook of her neck. 

For now, you stay in that position, catching your breath as she finally lets go, her hot little asshole gripping so harshly like it never wants you to leave when you slide out. There's a beautiful trail of sticky white of left behind, leaking right between her cheeks that you spread apart once you finally withdraw your length.

There's no greater sight, the creamy white dripping from that stretched out little hole, seeping between her pale thighs and onto the sheets, while your cock rests against her ass.

"Fuck, you really did wreck my asshole, daddy," Wonyoung almost laughs out in disbelief. 

"Not my fault you love it like that, princess." 

"Of course I do, dummy. Whatever makes daddy cum the hardest," she adds, panting between words to catch her breath, looking so goddamn gorgeous even through the brattiness that will always lurk. The only thing better is those red handprints all over her pale ass, left there as a reminder of what she’s earned. 

You give a firm squeeze of her ass one last time, a slight gasp leaving her when you force a bit more cum right out through her stretched hole, pushing the sticky mess right back in with a thumb that makes Wonyoung clench back around. “You always make me pump you so damn full, brat. Can't control myself around you."

"Wouldn't want you to," Wonyoung mumbles, leaving that thought unfinished as you savor these last moments, how good she looks face down, ass up like this, covered in sweat and cum dripping everywhere, even down her stockings and on the sheets below.

After you've finished enjoying the view, you glance down at her wrists and realize there's still the handcuffs on, wondering whether you should even bother taking them off.

"Daddy…" she whines, reminding you to make a decision when the silence lingers. 

"Yes, princess?" 

"I'm still handcuffed."

Quite the obvious fact—but you play oblivious. "You are. They look good on you, though."

You're not entirely sure you want to free Wonyoung. The pink leather looks gorgeous wrapped around those dainty wrists, her head against the pillows while she remains helpless, bent over with your cum dripping out. There's an appeal to watching her struggle—if only a bit. 

"Daddy! I can't kiss you like this," she complains, and you guess that’s a good enough reason as any to reach over and undo them. 

So you sigh, hoping to not regret it when you shuffle behind Wonyoung to uncuff her. With the restraints off, you kiss her wrists one at a time—rubbing your thumbs over the skin. She's back on her knees in no time at all, facing you on the bed so she can throw her arms around your shoulders, ready to pepper your face with soft kisses.

"Daddy wanted to leave me like that?" Wonyoung asks, this subtle shift into a sweeter tone when she kisses the corner of your lips.

"Thought about it." 

The handcuffs aren't a stranger to being around Wonyoung’s wrists, nor is the color pink—all too fitting on her.

Regardless, she keeps that pout, so unfairly cute when she wears it, a bit too irresistible. 

And so you let those pillowy lips meet yours again. One long kiss leads into another, and there's little effort to fight the hunger in each one as they press deeper. "Don't act like you don't love me fucking you when you're utterly helpless, princess." 

"Never said I didn't," she says, cupping your face in both hands without doing anything else. So you reciprocate, this slow kiss taking over, neither of you eager to end the exchange. That's the effect her lips have on you, so dangerous, more trouble than they're worth, in the best way possible.

"Brat. Should have really gagged you earlier. When my cock was fucking you senseless."

"You won't. Daddy loves making me scream when he ruins me," Wonyoung murmurs against your lips. “Handcuffs or not." 

That's news to nobody. 

✦ ✦

It's not the first time, and definitely won’t be the last that Jang Wonyoung wants more—

Not even an hour later and she's bent over the kitchen counter, right next to the leftover pizza from that one place Yujin loves that stays open after midnight. 

There isn't a single moment of rest for you with your cock back to splitting her ass open as you thrust rough and fast, wanting nothing more than to fill it all over again. Her fingers grab tight on the edge of the counter, your fist in her hair while your hips piston like a fucking train. 

The kitchen counter is more of Yujin's territory, wearing a cute apron without anything beneath while she's making breakfast for you, that sinful, round ass staring you right in the face. 

But Wonyoung insists this is the spot—the moment the two of you wander out of the shower. You're not picky when it comes to railing her into next week, finding the nearest surface, her perfect ass practically demanding your tongue before anything else. 

You're more than happy to indulge, burying your face in between those cheeks and devouring her asshole, craving all her delicious little moans as you find yourself back where you belong. A handful of hair, your cock lodged nice and deep In a mixture of saliva and lube, and those juicy ass cheeks being slapped. That's all you need.

Wonyoung, as expected, gets demanding fast, and it doesn't take long to move things back towards the living room.

To the couch, and a little detour where she ends up in a familiar position, legs stretched out, head over the armrest, hanging right over the edge—all for easier access to that warm little mouth. Then she's upside-down, laying back comfortably to the point where all she can do is wrap her pillowy lips around your cock, taking you so deep down that tight throat and gagging around it. A repeat of earlier last night. 

And before you know it, Wonyoung has you thrusting those hips while buried inside that tight ass yet again, her long legs spread so wide on the living room couch, bare feet up in the air and pointed toward the ceiling while you pound away. 

Fucking her face, her ass, wherever, whenever, Wonyoung seems incapable of quenching her insatiable needs tonight, demanding you use her petite body like she knows no limit. You're not about to tell her no, her warm little asshole sucking you back in at every given chance.

The couch, to nobody's surprise, becomes a wet fucking mess when you're buried so deep in Wonyoung's ass, staring at such a pretty face while she rubs her swollen clit, squirting all over you and the couch cushions in a loud, violent rush. 

After she's cum twice more, things move over to the armchair right next to the sofa—another piece of expensive furniture you're ready to defile. With Wonyoung clinging tight as your cock gets back inside that needy asshole, it's easy to sit her right on your lap, bare back against your chest and pound her like your life fucking depends on it. It's the perfect position to get so close, so intimate, staring at each other while your cock hammers away.

"Can you two keep it down over there?" Yujin asks, not even able to finish the sentence without laughing. "Some of us are trying to sleep."

You know that's a goddamn lie. Yujin steps in from the kitchen, not dressed for bed whatsoever, walking over to your side as you don't slow a thing. With a bowl of cereal and a spoon, she plops down onto the floor when she notices the couch is out of commission. 

"What did you two do to the couch?"

"S-shut up and eat your cereal," Wonyoung manages in between whimpers as her asshole gets wrecked right in front of Yujin's calm demeanor. And she's using the two of you as her own entertainment, the spoon dipping into her bowl, watching like it's all a movie on screen. 

Yujin laughs again. "Didn't answer the question."

“F-fuck you,” Wonyoung fires back, voice hoarse from all the screams and moans. 

Your eyes lock with Yujin's gaze that watches, eating up every second of this visual treat as your hard cock reams into Wonyoung, and you can barely contain how close you are to pumping her full. But Yujin just smirks, giving a quick, amused glance while she's crunching down. "Maybe later. You're a little preoccupied, princess."

Wonyoung doesn't respond right away, slapping her cunt when you slam into her so fucking hard. "If you wanted daddy to yourself, then you should've asked. “A-ahh, f-fuck—this big, thick cock stretching my asshole so much—"

"Don't worry," Yujin says, after an overly dramatic crunch. "I'll empty daddy's balls in the morning. Looks like you two are gonna be busy for a while."

Yeah, you could say that. At this rate, the sun will be up soon and Wonyoung is in one of those moods, you can tell. Every surface is in danger—and the same could be said about your poor cock that won't be given even the slightest hint of mercy.

“God—still haven't stopped, you're fucking addicted to being in my ass," says Wonyoung, locking an arm right behind your neck, whimpering and whining as your shaft pistons away.

"Me? You're the one wanting round whatever since we got out of that shower, you insatiable fucking brat. Taking my cock nonstop was your idea."

"This cock fucks me too well not to," she gasps out, before letting another filthy moan follow through.

Yujin keeps laughing through all of this. At this point, she's used to the sound of your cock splitting Wonyoung’s asshole with a merciless series of thrusts, happy to keep playing spectator. "Both of you are so fucking ridiculous. Two horny roommates obsessed with fucking each other’s brains out."

"Nnngh, fuck—and you're not? If you didn't have that stupid spoon in your mouth it would be on my fucking clit. Y-yes, ah—god, shit, shit, just like that, destroy me, daddy."

But she isn't wrong. That damn smirk is painted on the entire time, and Yujin knows how bad she can't wait to have a turn once Wonyoung finally gets satisfied enough.

Which might be a while.

For now, you can only wrap your hands under Wonyoung's thighs, spreading them even wider to pound up harder from below. Who even knows what ungodly hour it is, how much lube has been used, or how many more rounds you have in you. 

Your cock in Wonyoung, that cereal, and Yujin. A perfect trifecta, and a perfect ending to a perfect night.

[justauthoring]

More Than You'd Think.

Summary: Surely, you were just some random daughter of some random employee of Sylus'. And surely that meant Sylus thought nothing of you. But, when faced with danger, you learn just how wrong you are.

Pairing: Qin Che / Sylus x F!Reader (not MC!)

Word Count: 2,849

A/N: Some angst and then fluff to make us all feel better :)

TW. attempted sexual assault, violence and brief mention of death (not reader or sylus)

"My father will be right out."

"Thank you... Y/N."

Your gasp is barely concealed, a soft shutter leaving your lips as you glance up to meet Sylus' eyes. He's already staring down at you, his usual air of confidence obvious as he stands before you with his shoulders held high. There's a small smirk on his lips, while his heavy-lidded gaze stays focused on you.

You make a strong effort to remain strong, but you hadn't the slightest clue Sylus, the leader of Onychinus and your father's boss, had any idea who you were. Let alone your name.

It's not like this is the first time either of you have spoken but any conversation between the two of you has never been any of subtance. More often then not, it was you telling him you'd fetch your father and him humming in response.

You don't miss the slight quirk of his lips as you react to that realization, shifting on your feet. "You're welcome, sir," you offer, lightly bowing your head.

Despite your shock, you're not foolish enough to think that Sylus knowing your name means anything. Your father has been working under Sylus for a long time and therefore, you're fully aware of the power that Sylus holds in the N109 zone.

Not to mention, you've grown up in the N109 zone you're entire life. You're fully aware of how dangerous people like Sylus are, even without your father's warnings.

"Please," Sylus offers after a short moment of silence. His voice is light as you meet his gaze, and the smirk has softened to something a little more sincere. "Call me Sylus, Y/N."

You're sure you're hallucinating what's happening in that moment. Because there's no way the leader of Onychinus is allowing some random daughter of one of his men call him by his first name.

Surely, you're going crazy.

"O-Oh," you find yourself stumbling over your words. You're not even sure what it is you're trying to say as you're saying it. "Well, th-then, um, Sylus--"

"--Sir!"

Halted at the sound of your father's voice, both you and Sylus' attention is shifted behind you. Your father comes rushing to the front of the office, looking out of breath and panicked.

"My apologies," he breathes, offering a bow. "I did not mean to take so long."

Sylus waves him off with a simple gesture of his hand. "It's fine," he assures with ease, "shall we?"

He gestures back towards the direction your father came from, the warehouse in which your father has set up what Sylus had come for today. Knowing that you're presence is no longer needed, you step back, with the intetion of moving towards the front desk.

"Y/N," your father calls, making you pause. You try to ignore the way Sylus' noticeable gaze falls on you in response, focusing on your father. "I need you to go pick up a package for me. Davie should have them ready and I'll need them for tomorrow."

Nodding, you change your direction, heading to grab your coat. "Sure thing, dad."

You expect that to be that, distantly hearing your father call for Sylus to follow him. Yet, once again, you're stopped by a voice; this time, Sylus.

"You'd send your daughter to grab a package on her own?"

Lips parting, you spin back to Sylus, confused. By the expression on your fathers face, he's just as confused.

"Y-Yes, sir," your father nods, obviously unsure of why Sylus cares. "Y/N often gets packages for me. It's... too hard for me to make the trip anymore."

Sylus frowns. "Surely you realize how unsafe it is for someone like your daughter to be walking through the N109 zone alone."

Your father seems stunned. To be fair, so are you. But, to save your father from stumbling over his words and making a fool of himself, you decide to brave Sylus' weirdly placed concern.

"It's alright, sir--Sylus," you assure, offering a gentle smile. "I've done it plenty of times. And I can protect myself if needed."

Sylus looks skeptical, his eyes running across your figure as his face twists in... concern? You're not sure and it's too much for you to even try and begin thinking about, so you choose not to. With another reassuring, polite smile, you finish pulling your coat on and step towards the door.

"I'll be back in a bit, dad," you smile at your father, before turning to Sylus. "Good luck with your meeting." You offer a short bow in response, and with that, you make your way out, unaware of Sylus' gaze that follows you.

Or, the pair of dark black eyes that follow you the second you step outside.

-

"Thank you, Davie. I'll make sure my father knows about the hiccup with the order."

"You're welcome there, Y/N." Davie smiles at you, "you sure you'll be okay heading home? I didn't think I'd keep you that long."

You just smile, brushing him off. "Not to worry, Davie. I'll be fine. It's a short walk."

Davie only hesitates a moment longer before nodding, offering you one final wave as you turn to make your walk home.

As you make your way back home, you pull your coat closer around yourself, keeping your eyes peeled around you in case of anything. You'd brushed it off to Davie, but realistically you were a little nervous walking home when it was already this dark out.

You hadn't expected the favour for your father to take that long, and you can't help but think about what Sylus had said before you'd left. It wasn't like you had thought he was wrong, but you'd been assured by the daylight and the fact that you had grown up in the N109 zone all your life.

Danger was something you were used to. It didn't mean it didn't frighten you though.

Your hand holds the small knife you carry with you at all times tightly, trying to hum quietly to yourself as you walk, pace fast.

You can't help but let your mind wander to how hard Sylus behaviour had been earlier that day. You weren't sure how the man treated other daughters of his employees, but you convince yourself he probably just had some sort of gentleman code he upheld. Sure he was the leader of a dangerous gang, didn't mean he was terrible in all aspects.

He'd never been anything but kind to you, even if conversations had been brief. Your father running behind today had just presented him the opportunity to speak more, and if anything, he'd just done it out of kindness.

His concern about you walking through the N109 zone alone? That was probably just because of the well-known knowledge of how dangerous N109 was and the fact that if anything happened to you, it would impact your fathers work.

Which would impact Sylus.

Yeah. That had to be it.

Shaking your head of silly thoughts, you take a sharp left, only to pause at the sight of a shadow up ahead. You instantly stop, feeting freezing beneath you, as you stare at the figure. You can't quite make out distinguishable features, but the build is clearly that of a man.

For a long, silent moment, the both of you stand there. Then, he steps forward.

You instantly step back, only to hear approach footsteps behind you. Your head snaps to the left, heart falling to the pit of your stomach when you see a man heading your way. A look to your right tells you another man is coming from that way too.

Breath hitching in panic, your eyes widen as a voice calls out;

"Well, hello there, pretty lady."

It's the man in front of you that calls it out, voice sickeningly sweet and promising nothing good. Feeling your body start to shake, you grip your knife tighter with your right hand, your left holding the pack and take a step back.

The man in front of you steps into the light, letting you see the lecherious grin on his face.

Swallowing thickly, you eye him for one long moment before turning around and breaking out into a run. You make it only a few steps before you feel a hand grab your shoulder, yanking you back. You don't waste a second, pulling the knife out from your coat pocket and swinging it at the man.

He dodges it, barely, but then the two other men reach you. They flank you on either side, and your arm swings out wildly, package falling to the ground with a bang as you let out a cry.

You manage to knick one of the men on the arm, him crying out in pain in response. It causes him to stumble back, giving you a bit of reprieve to try and break free. You strengthen your efforts into attacking with your knife, trying to ignore the fear radiating through your body and focus on the fight rather than flight.

But then, the man who you'd seen first, manages to grab your wrist. His grip pinches, fingers digging into your wrist as you try to pull your hand away.

"Stop!" You bellow, "no!"

It's useless. The men are stronger than you, especially with the two of them. And it doesn't go beyond your notice that the one you'd stabbed is getting back up too.

The two men overpower you, squeezing your wrist hard enough something pops and the knife clatters to the ground, leaving you completely defenceless.

Your arms are grabbed, body yanked forward until you're pressed against a wall. Pain radiates from your back where you're slammed up against the brick wall, a groan leaving your lips. It doesn't stop you, though, your hands striking out to push the man off of you.

"Fucking bitch," the one you'd stabbed bellows, striking you across the cheek. The punch stings, and you're sure your cheek is a bright pink as a result.

"This could've been so much easier for you," one of the men huffs at you, grabbing you by the chin to pull your gaze on him. "If you'd just submitted like a good girl."

Ignoring the rapid race of your heart, you narrow your eyes at him. "Fuck off."

Face twisting in anger, he grabs the wrist they'd sprained earlier, slamming it against the wall as you scream out in pain. It throbs in pain, strength leaving you as you try to fight back the tears that threaten to fall.

Your other wrist is pressed against the wall as well, and then something glints in your gaze.

"Now, stop fighting us or we'll really hurt you."

Eyeing the knife, the first tear slips past your defences, your vision blurring as your eyes water. It occurs to you then you really won't be able to fight your way out of this. Your only weapon had been taken from you and now you were the one with a weapon held against you.

"That clear?"

Swallowing thickly, you nod, inhaling sharply.

"Good," the man holding the knife grins. "Let's get started then."

A whimper leaves your lips as he steps towards you. His two henchman, one of them being the one you'd stabbed, hold you against the wall, grips never relenting as the main one stops in front of you. He drags the tip of the knife across your cheek, your body trembling as he continues down across the length of your neck until he reaches the collar of your blouse.

It occurs to you then that in your scuffle, you'd lost your coat.

"Please," you find yourself begging, bravo gone in face of your vulnerability. "Please don't."

"Too late, pretty lady," the one you'd stabbed leers at you. "We're going to make sure it hurts."

Letting out a sob, you weakly try to break free. It's useless.

The sound of buttons popping is all you hear as you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the cold air hit your bare skin. The main man cuts away at your blouse like it's nothing, until you find your entire upper half bare, with nothing but your bra covering your modesty.

Sniffling, you feel your muscles freeze the second you feel lips press against your skin. The men lean into you, as if breathing you in, as you feel like you might throw up.

"Let's get this bra off," one of the men breathes against your neck.

You feel fingers slip underneath the strap of your bra and your breath hitches.

And then, you hear a cry of pain.

It startles you, eyes snapping open in confusion. For a second, you're not sure if you're the one who cried out in pain. But then, you realize that the man with the knife is no longer in front of you.

The men holding you seem just as confused, but before either of them can do anything, the one you'd stabbed is swept up in a mist of red and black and knocked back. He goes flying, your eyes widening as he lands againts the ground a few feet away from you, landing right on the shoulder you'd stabbed.

In the next second, the same mist takes the one to your right and sends him flying similarly.

You fall to your knees in an instant, legs giving out beneath you as you hold your throbbing wrist to your chest. You're terrified and baffled, not understanding what's happened.

And then, your answer steps in front of you.

Sylus steps in front of you, his gaze soft as he stares down at you. As he crouches in front of you, he's taking his jacket off of his shoulders and moving to wrap it around you. He's careful, making sure you know he means no harm as he covers you.

"S-Sylus?"

Your voice comes out small, broken. Sylus just shakes his head.

"Give me one second, Y/N. Then I'll get you out of here."

He stands back up, turning towards the scattered men on the ground before you. He instantly makes his way towards the main guy, towering over his cowering figure.

It seems Sylus' power really is something that precedes him.

As you sit there, pressed against the wall and cradling Sylus' jacket, it doesn't escape your attention that Sylus does more than just hurt the guy who'd held a knife to you. His other two henchman are hurt more by Sylus, but left for the two men who'd been standing back quietly waiting for Sylus' que. As Sylus turns back to you, he sends a nod at them.

It's clear what that means.

"Can I touch you?"

Blinking, you meet Sylus' gaze. He stares down at you, gaze soft and reassuring, making sure to keep his distance so as not to scare you.

Slowly, you nod.

-

Sylus doesn't take you back home.

Cradled in his arms, Sylus carries you all the way back to his place. When you quietly ask him about your father, he assures you that his men will inform your father of your whereabouts. You don't argue more than that.

Now, in Sylus' living room, you're wearing one of his shirts and sat on his couch while he bandages your wrist.

You've been otherwise silent until that moment, still startled and not really sure what to say. Sylus doesn't pressure you either.

But as you watch him finish bandaging your wrist, you find yourself speaking up.

"How did you know?"

Sylus glances up at your question, raising a brow as he meets your gaze. "Mephisto," he expains, using his head to gesture to his right. You follow his direction, eyes falling on the crow perched on a table across from you. "I can see through him."

You nod, even though you don't fully understand.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get there," Sylus breathes. "They shouldn't have even been able to touch you."

Blinking, you stare down at him. "Why do you care?"

Sylus, to your surprise, seems shocked by your question. His eyes widen briefly, lips parting and it's the first time you've seen him unsure.

"Why wouldn't I care?"

"I'm just the daughter of one of your employees," you remind, shaking your head. "I'm nobody."

Leaning forward, Sylus shakes his head. "You could never be nothing." Then, pausing, he sighs. "I've... tried to make my affections for you obvious, but clearly I wasn't obvious enough."

Eyes widening, you blink back at him.

"You're not just some daughter, Y/N." Reaching forward, he slips his hand into your not sprained one, threading his fingers through yours and squeezing. "And no one will ever hurt you again."

The tears that well in your eyes are out of your control. As your lips begins to tremble, you stare down at Sylus.

"I was so scared."

You're pulled into his arms, head pressed against his chest as he envelopes you completely. Despite everything, the touch doesn't scare you. Instead, it fills you with an overwhelming sense of safety and assurance.

You let yourself fall into Sylus' embrace, clutching onto him.

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 19

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

This has literally all the worst things the internet has to offer: Ableism, Sexisms, Toxic Media, horrible journalism, death threats...I am pretty sure I am missing some of it.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Call Transcript - Rachel Anderson & Richard Treshton

Richard Treshton: [Answers the call, voice tense] Rachel.

Rachel Anderson: Oh, so you do pick up the phone. I assume you already know why I’m calling.

Richard Treshton: [Dry] No, but I imagine I’m about to find out.

Rachel Anderson: [Scoffs] Don’t play dumb. I’ve had reporters on my doorstep all morning, asking about Lizzie. They were digging into my personal life. I have nothing to do with this. I haven’t spoken to her in years. Why am I being dragged into this mess?

Richard Treshton: Because some lowlife on the internet thought digging into Lizzie’s past would make good entertainment.

Rachel Anderson: [Scoffs] I don’t see why they’re so obsessed. She writes fairy porn for a living!

Richard Treshton: Excuse me?

Rachel Anderson: Oh, don’t act like you don’t know what’s in those books. I skimmed one after all the press about her and that driver started up. It’s embarrassing, Richard. She’s a grown woman writing drivel about handmaidens and fae warriors.

Richard Treshton: [Coldly] Careful.

Rachel Anderson: Oh, please. Let’s not pretend her little fairy tale nonsense is high literature. The only reason she’s even relevant right now is because she latched onto that racing driver—

Richard Treshton: You don’t get to talk about her like that. You don’t get to belittle her, not when you gave up any right to an opinion the day you walked out on her.

Rachel Anderson: [Defensive] I left because I had to, Richard. You know that.

Richard Treshton: [Furious] No, you left because you couldn’t deal with having a sick child. You made a choice. Lizzie was six years old, Rachel. Six. And you left her wondering why her own mother didn’t love her enough to stay.

Rachel Anderson: [Quiet] That’s not fair.

Richard Treshton: No, what’s not fair is that she had to grow up without a mother. What’s not fair is that she learned, at six years old, that the person who was supposed to love her unconditionally decided she wasn’t worth the effort.

Rachel Anderson: [Uncomfortable] Richard—

Richard Treshton: [Cold] You don’t get to rewrite history just because the press showed up at your door.

Rachel Anderson: [Tightly] I didn’t call to argue with you. I called to say that I don’t want any part of this circus. I don’t want my name attached to Elizabeth’s mess—

Richard Treshton: [Dangerous calm] Lizzie isn’t a mess.

Rachel Anderson: [Scoffs] Oh, come on—

Richard Treshton: She is a best-selling author. She is a strong, brilliant, and kind person who has done more with her life than you could ever hope to understand. She is a woman who wakes up every day and keeps going, even when the world makes it harder for her.

Rachel Anderson: Oh, go to hell. 

Richard Treshton: You first. And while you are at it: Keep my daughter’s name out of your damn mouth, Rachel. 

***

Lizzie hadn't let go of Mara since it had happened.

Not on the drive home...not when she had crawled into her bed, and pulled the blanket over her head.

She had curled up on her bed, fingers buried in the soft fur of her Labrador, face pressed against Mara’s side like she could disappear into the warmth. The weight of the world sat heavy on her chest, pressing her down, making it hard to move, hard to think, hard to breathe.

Lando sat beside her, close but not pushing. He hadn’t left her side, not once. His hand rested on her knee, grounding. A silent reminder that he was here. That he wasn’t going anywhere.

But now, morning had come. And he had to go. McLaren wanted him in for a meeting.

Lizzie’s stomach twisted as she listened to him get dressed, the sounds of fabric rustling, the quiet zip of his hoodie. Her eyes were still closed, her face half-buried in the pillow. She could feel Mara pressed against her side, the dog’s nose nuzzling into her hip.

The door was ajar, Lando’s shadow passing in front of the light spilling in from the hallway.

Lizzie still hadn’t looked at her phone. She didn’t want to know what else was being said. Didn’t want to see her name trending. Didn’t want to read a single thing about her mother being dragged into the mess, about her private life being turned into entertainment.

Lando hesitated before speaking.

“Do you regret it?” His voice was careful, quiet.

Lizzie went very still.

For a moment, all she could hear was the sound of her own breathing. The hum of the AC, the tick of the clock on the wall.

Do you regret it?

She knew exactly what he was asking without saying. Not about her mother, not about the stupid online bullshit. Lando was asking about them.

Lizzie’s fingers twitched in Mara’s fur.

She exhaled, long and slow. “I don’t regret you.”

Lando let out a breath of his own, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a fraction. He was watching her; she could feel his gaze, warm and steady on her.

“Not even once?” he said, voice quiet enough that she almost thought she’d misheard him.

Her heart clenched.

She forced herself to sit up, pushing herself up on her elbows. "No. Not once," she told him, her voice raw. "I don't regret you. I...don't even regret going public," she admitted weakly. "I just wish it..."

Lando’s gaze softened. He walked over to her, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed. His hand landed on her hip, thumb stroking the bare skin as he leaned in. “You wish it what?”

Her throat felt tight.

She exhaled, then said, “I wish it didn’t make the world hate me."

Lando’s thumb stilled.

Then he was pulling her forward, his arms sliding around her. He pulled her into his lap, her legs on either side of his hips. Lizzie went willingly, burying her face in his chest, her fingers curling in the material of his hoodie.

He tucked her head under his chin, letting her hide against him. She felt him press a kiss to the top of her head.

“They don’t get to hate you,” he murmured, his voice rough.

“Lando...”

He tightened his arms around her. “No, listen,” he said, his breath warm against her temple. “The whole goddamn world could hate you, and I would still love you. They wouldn’t change a damn thing."

She closed her eyes, her eyes stinging. She wanted nothing more than to simply hide away with him.

She took a shuddering breath, then another.

“ I can’t do social media right now.” Her voice was quiet, rough at the edges. “I just—can’t.”

Lando nodded instantly. “Then don’t. You don’t have to.”

Her throat bobbed. “People are everywhere, saying—” She stopped, shaking her head, burying her face against the crook of his neck.

Lando’s hand came up to cradle her head, the fingers of his other hand tracing gentle circles on her back. “I know. I know what they’re saying.” His jaw clenched. She could feel it against her forehead.

She could also feel the tension coursing through his body, how hard he was fighting to restrain himself, to keep his response in check.

“You don’t have to see it. You don’t have to read it," he said softly.

Lizzie let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “It doesn’t matter if I read it. It’s there. It exists. They think they know me, think they get to have opinions about me, and I—I just want to exist, Lando."

“You do get to exist,” he said, his tone a mix of fierce and urgent, like he needed her to understand this. “Those idiots on Twitter—they don’t get to take this from us. And they don’t get a say in how we live our lives.”

He took her chin in his hand, gently lifting her face to look at him. “They don’t get to decide how I feel about you.”

Lizzie inhaled sharply, searching his gaze.

His eyes were dark, focused on hers. But there was a determined set to his jaw, and a fire in his eyes that she knew meant he was ready to take on the whole world, if he had to.

And in that moment, all she felt was the quiet, overwhelming certainty that he’d win, because he’d fight for this. For them.

 “Your dad’s coming over,” he murmured. “I have to go to McLaren, but I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Lizzie’s grip tightened. “Okay.”

Lando hesitated, then leaned forward and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I love you.”

Lizzie’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I love you too.”

Lando’s expression softened. He took her face in his hands, tilting her head up, and kissed her.

His lips were warm, firm against hers, his fingers curling possessively against her skin. It was an urgent kiss, fierce and a little desperate, as though trying to say all the things they couldn’t put into words.

He broke the kiss far too soon, resting his forehead against hers. “You text me if you need me, okay? I’m coming right back.”

Lizzie nodded. “Okay.”

Lando’s eyes searched hers, like he was trying to commit all of her face to memory. Then, reluctantly, he pulled away, sliding her off his lap so he could stand.

He paused, one hand on the door. “Liz.”

She looked up at him. “Yeah?”

Then he smiled, that same crooked, boyish grin that had made her heart skip a beat from the moment she first saw him.

“It’s going to be okay,” he told her, with a conviction that made her believe him.

Lizzie tried to return the smile. “Go,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

Her father came over...The The house was quiet, save for the distant hum of the wind outside and the occasional creak of the old floorboards. Lizzie sat at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around a warm mug of tea, watching as her father moved around the small space, rinsing out the kettle and tidying up even though it didn’t need tidying. She knew what that meant—he was working through something in his head, giving himself time before he spoke.

Her father was a tall man, with dark eyes that had always seen everything. He finally sat down across from her, his hands wrapping around the mug of tea. He blew softly over the surface before taking a sip. Then he exhaled, his gaze meeting hers as he carefully set the mug back down.

Mara was curled up at Lizzie’s feet, resting her head against her lap. The Labrador always seemed to know when she needed grounding, her presence solid and unwavering. Lizzie absentmindedly ran her fingers through Mara’s soft fur, trying to do the same for herself.

Her father cleared his throat. “I should've warned you…”

Lizzie frowned. “You knew?”

“I knew about them.” He hesitated. “I didn’t know people were going to drag it into the spotlight like this, but… yeah, I knew.”

Lizzie took a slow breath, willing her voice to stay even. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Her father rubbed the back of his neck. “Because it wasn’t going to change anything.”

Lizzie let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well. I know now.”

Her father exhaled sharply, drumming his fingers against the table. “She called me, you know.”

Lizzie stiffened. “What?”

“This morning.” He shook his head. “She’s furious. Says she has reporters showing up at her house, asking her kids about you.”

Lizzie’s stomach turned. “I didn’t want that,” she murmured.

“I know,” her dad said. “But she’s acting like it’s your fault. Like you somehow brought this on her.”

Lizzie stared silently into her tea. She didn’t want to feel guilt over this. She didn’t want to feel the weight of it on her shoulders, the churning sensation in her stomach.

Lizzie swallowed hard, gripping her mug a little tighter.

Her life.

Her kids.

Her mother had built a family—one that didn’t include her. One that had never even considered including her.

“She really just… replaced us,” Lizzie murmured. “Didn’t she?”

Her father’s expression softened. “Lizzie…”

She shook her head, refusing the sympathy she saw in his eyes. She didn’t want it. She didn’t want pity. She just wanted—she wanted this to be over.

Her voice was almost a whisper when she said, “Do you ever regret it?”

Her dad’s brow furrowed. “Regret what?”

“Sticking with me,” she said quietly. She forced herself to look up, to meet his gaze. “When she left. When I got sick. When things got hard. Do you ever wish you’d done what she did? Started over? With a new wife? A normal kid?"

There was a long moment of silence, her words echoing in the air.

Then her father reached across the table, and took her hand, fingers curling gently around hers.

“Elizabeth.” His voice was steady, firm. “I need you to listen to me.”

She swallowed, nodding.

“I have never—never—regretted staying.” He squeezed her hands. “Not once. Not for a single second.”

Lizzie felt something crack in her chest.

“I would do it all over again,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “Every long night, every hospital visit, every fear and frustration—if it meant having you, I’d do it a thousand times over.”

Lizzie blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Even though it wasn’t easy?”

Her father let out a quiet laugh. “Most of the best things in life aren’t easy.” He cupped her cheek, brushing away the tear that had slipped free. “But they’re worth it. And you, kid… you are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

The tears were falling in earnest now, streaming down her face, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

“Dad,” she said, voice choked.

He gently pulled her out of her chair and into his arms, letting her cry against his chest like she was suddenly six years old again, overwhelmed and scared and just wanting her dad.

He held her firmly, gently. He didn’t say anything, just let her cling to him.

He rocked her back and forth, the same way he had when she was little and had scraped her knees, gotten too overwhelmed in a crowded place, or cried herself into a seizure. He never let go, just held her close, letting her sob into his shoulder.

"I never regretted it," he repeated. "Not for one single second, Lizzie. You are my daughter. And I will never, never be alright with people treating you like you are a burden or unlovable or that you don't deserve to exist."

Lizzie’s arms tightened around his neck, like she was six again and he was the only thing tethering her to solid ground. It was familiar and comforting, and she had never been more grateful that this man was her dad.

She let herself sink into him. The solid line of his shoulders against her, the beat of his heart, the smell of his favorite cologne. Her dad was quiet and unassuming, soft-spoken and kind, but he was also the most fiercely protective person she’d ever known.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch gentle. “You are the best thing I ever got out of my marriage,” he murmured. His hand came up to brush her hair away from her face, his palm cupping her cheek. “Just tell me something.”

She sniffed. “What?”

He tilted her chin up, meeting her gaze, his grip on her firm but always gentle. “You’re happy? With Lando?”

She nodded. There was no hesitation, nothing but the familiar, overwhelming certainty that this thing with him was right.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I am.”

“He makes you happy?” he pressed.

She nodded again, not even needing to think about it. “Yeah.” A small smile touched her lips. “More than I ever thought I could be.”

***

***

The tension in the McLaren briefing room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Lando was sitting at the head of the table, arms crossed, jaw locked, radiating barely contained fury. Across from him, Sophie from PR looked like she’s fighting off a migraine, while Zak Brown and Andrea Stella exchanged cautious glances.

And then there’s Oscar—legs crossed, scrolling through his phone with the same casual energy as someone reading the weather forecast.

Lando exhaled sharply. “Let me get this straight. You all knew that Lizzie was getting harassed like this, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

Sophie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Lando, we weren’t trying to hide anything from you. We were monitoring the situation, trying to control the damage before it got out of hand.”

Lando scoffed. “Out of hand? Do you think what’s happening now is ‘under control’?”

Zak leant forward, trying to maintain some authority over the spiraling conversation. “We wanted to handle it internally, without escalating the situation further.”

Lando’s hands slammed onto the table. “Lizzie has been dealing with days of harassment—ableism, threats, even people doxxing her mother—and your grand plan was to just wait it out?”

Zak didn’t immediately respond, which only infuriated Lando further.

“And you let me walk into that interview blind?” Lando’s voice was dangerously low now. “If I hadn’t shut that down myself, what were you expecting me to say? That maybe, yeah, dating my girlfriend is too hard because she has epilepsy? That I regret being with her? Because that’s exactly what they wanted from me.”

Sophie shifted uncomfortably. “We didn’t expect them to be that direct about it—”

“Bullshit.”

Zak sighed, rubbing his temples. “Lando, we understand that you’re upset—”

“No, you don’t!” Lando cut him off, his voice raw with frustration. “You don’t get it at all! You get to sit here and talk about damage control while Lizzie is at home seeing people pick apart her entire existence like she’s a burden. You think I give a shit about PR right now?”

Zak exhaled. “We’re not saying we do nothing. We just need to be strategic about it.”

Lando let out a humorless laugh. “Strategic. Right. Because God forbid McLaren actually takes a stand instead of waiting until it’s convenient.”

Andrea finally spoke up, voice sharp. “Lando. Be reasonable.”

Lando didn’t even bother trying to contain his scoff. “Be reasonable? You think I’m being unreasonable?”

Oscar set his phone down with a thunk. “Okay, I’m done listening to this.”

Sophie tenses. “Oscar—”

“No, really. Because this is ridiculous.” Oscar looks around at everyone, unimpressed. “Lando wants to make a statement, and you’re acting like he’s trying to blow up the whole team. But guess what? It’s already blown up. This isn’t a little PR hiccup. It’s a full-on disaster. And the only thing worse than handling it badly is doing nothing.”

Zak watched him carefully. “We’re trying to avoid making it worse.”

“By saying nothing? That’s not how this works, Zak.” Oscar shrugged. “You want to wait it out? Fine. But I won’t.”

Sophie groaned. “Oscar—”

“Either you release a statement and you’ll let Lando release a statement, or I’ll start tweeting like I did with Alpine.”

Silence.

Zak blinked. Andrea actually looked alarmed. Sophie looked like she might start crying.

Lando could just stare at his teammate.

Sophie swallowed. “You’re bluffing.”

Oscar’s face remained impressively stoic. “Try me.”

“Oscar,” she said slowly, like she’s trying to reason with a wild animal, “do you remember what happened the last time you went rogue on Twitter?”

Oscar arched one eyebrow. “Yeah. Alpine cried about it, and then I got a better seat. Good times.”

Lando, despite his anger, let out a breath of disbelief. “Oscar, you absolute menace.”

Oscar shrugged. “People seem to forget I have zero patience for bullshit.” He picked up his phone again. "Give out a statement. Or I'll do it for you.  I’m pretty sure there are 19 other drivers who will agree with me that ableism is bullshit.”

Sophie buried her face in her hands. Zak swore under his breath. Andrea just looks resigned.

Lando?

Lando finally, finally smirks. “Remind me to buy you dinner later.”

Sophie lifted her head from her hands, eyes darting between Oscar and Lando like she’s debating whether to resign on the spot or fight for what little control she has left. Zak exhaled through his nose, arms crossed, looking like a man who knows he’s lost but refuses to admit it.

Andrea, ever the level-headed one, finally spoke. “Alright. Let’s take a step back. Oscar—if you tweet, what exactly are you planning to say?”

Oscar leans back, unfazed. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something like—‘If your biggest concern about my teammate’s girlfriend is her having a medical condition instead of, I don’t know, the insane amount of talent she has or the fact that she makes him happy, then I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe try being a better human being.’” He tilts his head. “Something like that.”

Sophie groaned like she’s physically in pain. “Oscar, please.”

Lando was outright grinning now, despite the fury still simmering under his skin. “Yeah, I definitely owe you dinner.”

Zak closed his eyes for a moment, collecting himself before responding. “We need to be smart about this. If we make this bigger than it already is, we risk—”

“Risk what?” Lando interrupted, voice sharp again. “Risk pissing off the same people who are already tearing Lizzie apart for existing? Risk upsetting the same journalists who think they can get away with asking me if I regret being with my girlfriend? Fuck that.”

Zak pinched the bridge of his nose. “Lando—”

“No, Zak. I’m done. You guys are trying to manage PR while Lizzie is sitting at home seeing people drag her through the dirt for things she can’t control. You’re worried about making it worse? It’s already as bad as it gets! They doxxed her mother. They’re making fun of her service dog. They’re acting like she’s ruining my life just by being in it. And the longer we say nothing, the longer they think they’re right.”

Silence.

Andrea exhaled, nodding slightly. “He’s right.”

Zak’s eyes snap to him, but Andrea holds his gaze. “This isn’t just a PR issue anymore. It’s an integrity issue. If we ignore this, we’re condoning it. And frankly, I don’t want to work for a team that stays silent when something this disgusting is happening to someone in our family.”

Lando blinked at him, surprised but grateful.

Zak sat back, weighing his options. He looked at Lando, at Oscar, at Andrea. He knew he’s outnumbered.

Finally, with a sigh, he nods. “Fine. We put out a statement.”

Sophie looks pained, but she knows there’s no stopping this now. “What do you want it to say?”

Lando didn’t even hesitate. “That ableism is unacceptable. That Lizzie has been subjected to relentless harassment, and it needs to stop. That McLaren stands by her, and we won’t tolerate this kind of treatment toward her—or anyone.” He looked directly at Zak. “And that I love my girlfriend, and I’m not ashamed to say it.”

Zak held his gaze for a long moment before nodding. “Alright.”

Oscar grinned. “Great. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some tweets to like.”

Sophie looks like she might combust on the spot. “Oscar, for the love of God, please do not start a Twitter war before we even get the statement out.”

Oscar doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Too late.”

Lando leans over to peek at Oscar’s screen and immediately snorts. “Oh my God, you just liked a tweet that says ‘Lando Norris should set the internet on fire and propose out of spite.’”

Oscar shrugged. “I thought it was funny.”

Sophie stared at him in open horror. “You’re not helping.”

Zak rubbed his temples. “Alright, let’s get ahead of this before we end up with marriage rumors on top of everything else.”

Andrea, ever the strategist, spoke up. “We need to make sure we’re not just reacting to the backlash. This isn’t about damage control—it’s about making a clear statement. We stand by Lizzie. We won’t tolerate ableism.”

Zak sighs. “Fine. But we phrase it carefully. Something like…” He glances at Sophie.

She still looks exhausted but nods. “‘McLaren stands firmly against the harassment and ableism directed at Elizabeth Treshton. We are appalled by the treatment she has received and fully support Lando and Lizzie against this unacceptable behavior.’”

Lando leans forward. “Make sure you use the word ‘ableism.’ A lot of these people don’t even think what they’re doing is wrong. They need to hear it.”

Zak sighs. “Lando—”

“No.” Lando cuts him off. “This isn’t just about Lizzie anymore. If they can say this shit about her, what’s stopping them from going after other people? What if another driver’s partner has a medical condition? What if it’s a fan next time? If we don’t call this out, we’re saying it’s okay.”

Oscar nodded. “I’m tweeting.”

Sophie groaned. “Of course you are.”

Zak shook his head but didn't argue. “Fine. But let’s make sure McLaren’s statement goes out first.”

Lando quietly said, “Make it strong.”

Sophie exhaled. “It will be.”

Andrea looked at them all, nodding slightly. “Good. Because after this, things are going to get loud.”Oscar, jaw still tight, finally put his phone down. “Good.”

[mountquokka]

Hiii!! I really love ur fanfic xx could u please write one where u and han are dating for a really long time but skz doesn't know and one day they catch u both in a room at jype ❤️❤️

Jagi... I need you

Han Jisung X fem!reader

Word count: 976

Warnings: Dom Jisung, sub reader, getting caught, messing around in the studio, semi-public, oral (m receiving), Jisung is whiny when he’s horny, nicknames (jagi, mamas, baby, Ji), dirty talk, let me know if I missed any

Taglist <3: @hongjoongtime117 @lee-sang1625 @wontini

Thank you so much for the request 🫶🏽☺️ I really appreciate it

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!”Chan yells from the door of the studio after witnessing you and Jisung’s compromising position.

You and Jisung have been dating since SKZ debuted in 2018. But no one knew. The problem was… you were a JYPE employee. That kind of relationship was against the rules so you both agreed to keep it secret. You both would act civil in passing in the hallways but once there was a moment you both could be alone, you would steal kisses and hugs. Which eventually turned to heavy make outs, touches and sometimes quickies when you got to that stage of your relationship. No one had any idea you both were together, though some were suspicious.

Today wasn’t any different, or at least you though it wasn’t. You’re walking around the JYP building, doing your job, until you got a message on your phone. You look down at it, casually glancing up so you don’t run into anyone and see it’s from Jisung. You smile a little at the notification until you open the message that was sent.

My squirrel 🐿️🥰: Jagiiiiii My squirrel 🐿️🥰: Are you busy? I NEED you 🥺

You instantly knew what he meant when he put need in all caps. He was horny. You both agreed to try and keep the sexual acts to a minimum when at work to lower the chance of getting caught.

You: Ji… you know we can’t My squirrel 🐿️🥰: Please mamas 🥺 I’ll be quick. Plus I’m in the studio, no one will catch us

You stop and think. The studios are always rented out so no usually walks in unless they need to find someone. From what you remember the guys don’t have anything scheduled for today so you might be in the clear. You send a reply back to Jisung

You: ok fine but give me 10 minutes it’s almost my lunch break My squirrel 🐿️🥰: Thank you baby I love you so much 😘😘 You: I love you too Ji ❤️

When it was time for lunch, you head to Jisung’s studio and knock on the door. He opens it and pulls you in. He connects your lips to his in a heavy make out session as he blindly closes the door and heads back to the chair. “I missed you so much” Jisung sighs as he starts kissing down your neck. You giggle “You saw me 2 hours ago” “That’s too long, I want you with me all the time” he grabs your waist and grinds you against him. You hum as you feel his bulge gliding against your clothed core.

“Mmm Ji baby, slow down a second.” Jisung whines and pull aways from your neck. “I don’t know if we’ll have time for that today, how about I just suck you off?” Jisung wanted to protest but he knew that your lunch breaks weren’t long enough for a full sex session. He groans but agrees.

You get off his lap and drop to your knees in front of him. He pulls his sweats and boxers down, his member slapping against his lower stomach. It’s surprisingly already leaking precum. “What got you so worked up?” You chuckled as you start smearing the precum along his shaft.

“I started thinking about you” you blush at his answer but feel a sense of pride that you were the cause. You bend over to kitten lick his tip “you simp” “only for you mamas”

Before he could notice the blush spreading across your face, you take him into your mouth and he lets out a surprised groan. You slowly take him in inch by inch until your nose hits his pelvis. Once your gags and chokes were under control, you start bobbing your head, slow at first then gradually picking up speed. “Fuck baby~ I was hoping to have that pretty little pussy gripping my dick but of course your mouth feels just as good, keep going”

You knew he wasn’t going to last long much longer just from how he kept twitching in your mouth. You were gonna finish him off when the door suddenly flies open.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!”

You and Jisung pause as you see Chan and the rest of SKZ standing in the doorway. All of them in pure shock and confusion. Hyunjin trying to cover poor Jeongin’s eyes. You both situate yourself before the hellfire of questions you’re about to receive from a not so happy Bang Chan.

“How long has this been going on for?”

“Since we debuted”

“And you don’t think to tell any of us?”

“We weren’t sure yet since idol/employee relationships are frowned upon”

“Were you ever going to tell us?”

“Eventually yes”

After the barrage of questions, Chan had calmed down and everyone had a clear understanding of what was going on. All of them promising not to say anything and keep your relationship secret. Also for them to get a heads up next time you both try to do something like that again in the studio or any place like that. You agreed.

You all were having a casual conversation, when you look down at your watch “Oh shit! I have to get back to work. I see you later Ji. See you guys” The guys all wave bye but Jisung stops you at the door. “One last kiss? Plus I still didn’t get to cum” he whispers. You chuckled and give him a quick peck on the lips “Don’t worry baby, I’ll make it up to you later. I promise” you smirked and winked as you walk off. Jisung tries to hide his flustered face as he closes the studio door and joins the guys in their conversation. But he wasn’t listening, all he was thinking about was

“Dammit now I’m horny again”

[eempyreall]

♪ 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ♪

༺ Beneath The Waters ༻

Oneshot ~ Jujutsu Kaisen x Female Reader

Summary ~ As a marine biologist, you rescue an injured siren. Now, five of them are obsessed with you—and they’ll never let you go.

Featuring ~ Gojo Satoru, Sukuna Ryomen, Geto Suguru, Fushiguro Toji, and Kamo Choso

Extra Notes ~ Tokyo Revengers’ Version - Blue Lock’s Version - Oc’s Version

*I am not a marine biologist, I searched up everything that pertains to the career.

This story should only be posted under eempyreall on my tumblr, ao3, wattpad, and patreon. Report if you see it posted under anyone else but me.

l apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

|| Warning ||

You and the characters are 21+. Although I picture the reader as a black cis-gendered female, physical appearance will not be described at all.

Content within this story may not be realistic or factual.

I do not condone any of the behavior displayed within the story.

There may be dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit content, sexual content, non consensual and/or dubious consensual content, etc.

That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

The ocean always harbored a serene atmosphere at night.

Although you spent most of your days amidst the sea, working alongside your team as the waves rocked against the trawler, you couldn’t deny the tranquil ambience of sitting on shore while the stars glowed amongst the nightly blue firmament.

To clarify, you enjoy your career. Although there are different categories of work, such as laboratory and data analysis, you spend your day diving into the deep seas, collecting sea specimens, studying all the beauty the earth provides underwater, and giving your fellow biologists something to write about.

It contrasted with your lingering fear of the deeper abyss that the ocean conceals. There was always an underlying edge of caution when dealing with the intrusive thoughts that plagued your mind. You spent most of your time in reefs—the brighter, most pleasing section of the sea.

“You ready to get going?”

You shift your head towards the voice that came from your right.

Your eyes meet the dark irises of one of your teammates, a close friend of yours who studied alongside you during your growth in the marine industry. You lift yourself from the sand, pants slightly stained from the debris, as you brush your palm along your bottom.

“Nah. I’m gonna stay a little longer,” you reply, sighing as you eye the gentle waves of the sea. “You can go without me. I know that we got an early shift tomorrow.”

Riku raises a brow at you while crossing his arms. “You know that even if they’re real, you’re not gonna find anything, right?”

Ah, I’m about to get the same lecture, aren’t I?

You roll your eyes as you place your hands against your hips. “Mind your business, Riku,” you sing playfully, but with an edge of solemnity in your tone.

He hums. “I’m just saying, Y/n. You’ve looked quite exhausted the last few shifts. Your hyperfixation on mermaids is becoming a problem,” he says, his voice laced with concern and slight annoyance.

You scoff, crossing your arms as you face ahead. “First of all, the term is siren. Second of all, you don’t need to worry about me. I still get my work done.”

You miss the solemn expression that appears on his face—the familiar guise of pity that always makes you shift with discomfort.

“Look, I know more than anyone that it’s hard to heal from a family member’s death, but Y/n, you’ve got to let it go.”

The statement sent a shift through your entire body, tension stiffening you in place as the memory swirling in your brain flickered before you.

“Shit! Everyone, grab the earplugs!” the leader of your team shouts.

You immediately turn to your bag, rummaging through the contents before you snatch the cord. You shove the plugs into your ears just as the song begins. Although you can feel the vibration of the melody against your chest, the blockage of your ears keeps you safe from the siren’s frequency.

When you turn around, the relief that had rushed through you drops vehemently as your eyes flick over the five members of your team—including your brother.

Your breath hitches as you watch the color drain from his eyes, his body stiff in a trance as he faces toward the siren who peers from the waves of the sea. You can only see her multicolored eyes and the pale blue hair that’s flat against her head, the rest of her strands floating around her as she stares at the men.

You feel breathless, panting as you watch them take a step forward, in unison. A spike of fear surges through your spine as the pit in your stomach deepens. You dash toward your brother, nails digging into his shoulders as you stand in front of him, using all of your weight to keep him from jumping off of the trawler.

The splashes of the others are loud, despite the plugs blocking your ears. It only makes the lump in your throat burn as you make eye contact with your brother. As a result of the dullness filling his orbs, you know that it’s too late. He’s already gone.

But you don’t stop. You continue to press against him as the sobs escape your lips.

“Please, B/n! Please, wake up,” you weep.

The siren reaches for the first man, her claws splitting the flesh of his skin as she begins her feast, ropes of red already staining the waters as the rest of the humans swim toward her. Your head shifts to the side to see that a few more sirens have appeared, the women beginning their attacks on the men. One peers from the side, awaiting the release of your brother.

Despite his dream-like state, he is strong. He pushes against you like a stone wall. His expression is bare of any emotion as he continues to stare at the ocean, shoving against you like a non-playable character in a game.

Eventually, you can’t hold on any longer.

For a while, you couldn’t forgive yourself. Despite your first shift ending in a massacre, you couldn’t accept how weak you were against the creature’s voice.

It ached.

You sat on the trawler, weeping, until the S-O-S boat arrived. You tried to warn them, but nobody believed you. It was an unexplainable event. They kicked it under the rug, rolled it up, and burned it—as if nothing happened.

It was only you and your brother, so there was no memorial. No familial speeches from family or friends, as neither of you had any, aside from Riku, who stood by your side through it all. Still, his mind couldn’t be changed along with the rest. He only accepted your obsession through pity and nothing else.

“You can go home, Riku,” you say, a tone laced with firmness and an impending rage that you keep within wraps.

His eyes flicked over you for a moment before he exhaled sharply, guilt reaching his core. “Y/n, I’m sorry—.”

“Can you just shut the fuck up and leave?” Your eyes narrowed in his direction, fingers curling around your thumbs as you squeezed before releasing the tension.

His lips pressed into a thin line before he nodded, grabbing the keys from his pocket and turning away. “See ya tomorrow,” he says before walking off.

Another hour passes as you sit on the beach, well into midnight, watching the breeze gently push against the waves. You finally stand once more, brushing yourself off as you turn towards the pathway leading to the parking lot.

An unfamiliar sound catches your attention, along with a splash of waves that echo near you. You pause, listening for a moment as your ears search for the unknown frequency once more. Your head shifts to the right as you hear another high-pitched wail coming from the distance. It was slightly guttural, a broken hum of distress.

Before you could register your own movements, you find yourself walking towards the frantic melody. Your heartbeat thuds against your chest as you follow the noise. Your pulse throbs as you feel the hairs on your skin stand tall.

That sound… it’s not quite the same, but…

Once you reach the spot, your muscles stiffen in place, brows raising in shock.

Lying in front of you is a distressed male who holds the upper body of another. His wet platinum strands frame the sharp features of his facial structure as he looks down at the unmoving male. His platinum eyelashes conceal his irises as a frown laces his expression.

His skin is a silk cream, and the translucent top of his ears forms into elongated tips, almost resembling skin-colored, iridescent fins. The same texture protrudes from the sides of his arms, though with a blueish-white-hued tinge. His claws are long, gently grazing against the cheeks of the male below as he holds him against the lap of his long white tail.

The male below him matches the fish-like features, though the pigment laces a deep, almost black, indigo hue against his fins and long tail. His black hair is disheveled and wet, though flaring under his head as the siren holds him. His eyes are shut, irises concealed by his lids as he seems to be trapped within a deep slumber.

Crimson covers the side of his torso, staining the sand beneath. From the distance you stand, you fail to see the exact wound. Your brows furrow as determination sets into your core, and you turn your back to the sirens as you jog to your car.

Why do I feel the urge to help? I should just let him die.

But you know that it isn’t fair to blame them for a tragedy that occurred years ago. It isn’t fair to blame the entire species for something that’s a part of their nature.

Your search for their existence is only to prove to yourself and the others that the incident wasn’t imagined. That sirens are real and should be studied. This only motivates you for your shift tomorrow.

After you return with the first aid, you steadily make your way towards the two men, earplugs stuck in your ears as you walk closer. You can’t deny the pressure in your chest, anxiety striking you the closer you get.

Once the conscious siren noticed another presence, he shifted his gaze towards you, icy blue irises peering through the lashes that lined his lids. You pause when you recognize the tension of his muscles, a scowl reaching his expression as a distorted melody rang from his lips.

You held your hands up in surrender, ensuring that your movements remained slow and gentle so as to not alarm the creature. A memory of the section of a passage you read during your studies of this mythological species reminded you of their ability to understand various languages, humans included. It was adapted for survival as their variety grew.

“It’s alright. I’m not here as an enemy, but as an aid,” you say, voice proper as you point towards the first aid kit in your hand. “I see that your friend is hurt. I’ve only come to help, if you’ll let me.”

He didn’t move. His gaze remained locked on you with a menacing guise. Despite the danger that radiated off of the creature, you recognized his urge to protect his loved one. It was expected.

You twist the box to face his view, unclipping the clasp as you open the lid, allowing him to observe the contents clearly. “As you can see, I mean no harm. With that amount of blood loss, your friend doesn’t have much time. Just let me help, please,” you say with a calm tone.

Why do I want to help them so bad?

Maybe his protectiveness of the unconscious being reminded you of the feelings you had during your brother’s trance. You understand what it feels like to have someone ripped away from you under circumstances you can’t control. Both sirens are vulnerable in this state. It’s clear that the blue-eyed male cares deeply for the man below him.

You watch as his eyes narrow, his expression revealing his contemplation as he stares at you with wonder. Eventually, he bowed his head to the side, nodding over to the other siren in defeat. You exhale in relief, heading over to the injured man before you kneeled beside him.

You rummaged through the box as you grabbed the necessities to dab, clean, and wrap the wound. The platinum-haired male watched you with caution, eyes roaming over your movements as you tended to the wound.

I never thought I’d ever be in this predicament.

But you didn’t hate it. To be able to help another aid a loved one, despite the resentment you held for the species, caused warmth to spread throughout your stomach.

The patch-up didn’t take long.

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t known you were holding in as you clipped the box shut. The torso of the siren was successfully wrapped.

“I’d advise you to stay out of the water for a little longer, just to give the bleeding time to stop,” you suggest. You already knew that sirens could stay above water for long periods of time. They could live on land if they had legs, though some studies show that very few can transform their tails.

The siren only stared at you with the same cautious look as before, though it had slightly softened. Suddenly, movement catches both of your attention as both of your eyes shift toward the man below you. The man’s eyelids flutter open as he reveals dark, purple irises that flick over to you.

You couldn’t shake the strike of anxiety that surged through your spine, heart beating against your chest as he studied you with an intense gaze. His eyes shifted downward to his wound as you began to grab the box.

I think it’s time for me to leave.

Before you can lift yourself from the ground, a clawed hand shoots to your jaw as you’re held in place. You feel shock contort amongst your expression as your body stiffened to the tight grip.

What the fuck?

The creature leaned forward, slightly flicking his wrist to observe your features with his eyes slightly squinted, as if he was analyzing data and saving it to a file in his brain.

Your hand reached for his wrist, gently lowering it as you picked yourself up from the sand.

“Um… get better,” you quickly say, turning away as you walk toward the parking lot. You cursed yourself for the lack of knowledge on what else you could’ve said, slightly embarrassed.

You could feel their gazes locked on your back as you made your way off the beach.

The next morning was uneventful, your daily routine of deep-diving into the sea stretched throughout the day. It was finally the afternoon, your team filing the samples you and Riku had just collected from the reef you are currently studying.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the sirens you had met the night before. On one hand, you wanted to inform Riku of what you had experienced, wishing you had taken a picture from your phone as proof, but on the other hand, you knew that it wouldn’t have been an appropriate time for that. You also understood that Riku would remain stubborn with his disbelief until you provide physical evidence.

It was a lost cause.

“Break’s over. Let’s get going!” your team leader yelled across the small ship.

You eye the surface of the waves, heavily pushing along the foundation of the ship while the anchor holds you all in place. The sky is a bright blue, clouds streaking across the firmament as the sun shines a bright yellow. It’s a beautiful day, and yet, you couldn’t rid yourself of the pit that formed in your chest.

“Hey, Y/n. I still want to let you know that I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. You were right that it’s none of my business,” Riku said as he prepared the scuba gear on his form.

You followed along, chuckling in response as you placed the mask over your face. “I know. It’s whatever,” you say before patting him on the back. “We’re good.”

He nodded as he placed the snorkel in his mouth, slightly smiling in return before he hopped into the water. Shortly after, you followed his form as you dived into the ocean.

Your arms swayed against the pressure of the water as you peered through the goggles. You swam towards the opposite direction of Riku, aiming for the area that you were assigned to.

Moments later, you reached the colorful section of the reef, passing by various types of fish and sea creatures, some of which you found fascinating to observe. Once you reached the species of fish you were focused on for the shift, you connected a biologging sensor to the animal so that the laboratory could collect data on the behavior and whereabouts of the creature without hurting it.

During your session of tracking the correct species, a familiar sound echoed throughout the vicinity as your body floats. When your head turns in the direction of the noise, a swift force circled around your figure, startling you in the process as the bubbles of the water lined your vision.

Once it all settles, your eyes widen behind the goggles as you stare at the male siren in front of you.

His features aren’t far from the fins you had seen attached to the sirens during the previous evening. The translucent hue is tinged with a deep red, along with the elongated tail that curled around your form as he observed you. His pink locks flared upward, symbols embedded within his skin as his red eyes flicked over you.

As he studied you, his head tilted in recognition before a smirk curled on his expression, revealing his sharp teeth. If you hadn’t studied the body language of sirens for so long, you would’ve thought you were going to be his next meal. He merely looked curious until he gave you a knowing glance.

Suddenly, you jolted as he released a loud, guttural frequency through his lips.

You listened as the rush of water appeared from your sides, head shifting left and right as you searched for the source.

Suddenly, you feel a hand grip your arm as you’re tugged to the side, your eyes shifting over to the new male who appeared.

Another male with similar fish-like features as the former siren came into view. His color scheme is a dark, murky green, iridescent fins tinged with the hue as his claws wrapped around your arm. His short black strands flared around his head as his bangs framed his face. His tail is long, a green that matches his fins.

His lids are a natural slant, green irises shifting over you as a lazy smirk reaches his expression. Your brows raise in confusion at the ambush. Before you can yank your arm out of his grip, you felt a constriction against your opposite arm as another male appeared on the other side of your form.

You face the third siren, a man with two, dark brown pigtails that flow in the water. A dark symbol is drawn over his face as a red hue surrounds his eyelids. The edge of his translucent fins are laced with an obsidian black, along with his tail.

His eyes flicked over you with a bored expression, lips falling apart as an unsettling, melodic frequency echoed from his mouth, revealing his razor sharp teeth.

Your breath hitches as you’re pulled forward, the force abrupt as the water rushes past you. The two men gripping your arms follow behind the red-tailed siren as they make their way through the depths of the ocean, leading you deeper.

What the fuck? Where are they taking me?

You hoped that they wouldn’t travel deep enough for your lungs to compress. Despite your attempts to escape, their claws grazed your skin as their fingers curled tightly around you.

Suddenly, you noticed the lowered percentage of your oxygen tank, eyes widening as you realized you had strayed underwater for far too long. You begin to thrash in their hold, your movements more desperate than before.

Finally, the sirens stop in place, turning their attention to you with a mixture of confusion and annoyance on their expressions. You quickly gesture toward your tank and make a breathing motion before pointing upward.

They pause for a moment, giving each other a quick glance before releasing your arms. You hold your hands up in surrender before swimming upwards, rushing to the surface in a desperate attempt to make it before your oxygen runs out.

Once you made it back to the surface, water splashed around you as you broke through the waves, reaching for the strap that connected you to the ship and pulling yourself onto the platform. Your chest heaves as you fumble with the straps of the mask, yanking it off as you pant.

“Y/n? What the hell happened? You were under for so long I almost came to find you!” Riku exclaimed, rushing toward you as he grabbed the equipment from your hands to help you out of your gear.

You only continue to ease your breathing as the memories of what just occurred swirled through your mind. You couldn’t concentrate on Riku’s muffled words. Your vision is slightly distorted, a sudden dizziness causing your body to feel heavy as your head shifts toward the ocean.

Your thoughts morphed into jumbled words as darkness reached your vision, engulfing you into the void that tugs at your consciousness.

You felt the breeze kiss against your skin as your eyelashes fluttered open. The rays of the sun shine bright over you, the warmth engulfing your skin. As you slowly pull your upper body up from the ground, you could feel the sand sticking to your arms and legs. As you lean forward, your eyes perk, startled as you notice the men sitting around your figure.

What are they doing here? What am I even doing here? Wasn’t I on the ship?

You blinked as you noticed Suguru sitting beside you, legs replacing the obsidian tail that once was there. His arm rested over a propped knee as his bare feet pressed against the sand, shorts concealing his lower region.

Wait… did I just identify his name? How do I even know it?

You look around, seeing the men sitting around you. Satoru sat on your right in the same position as Suguru, though with shorts that matched the white tail he once had. You eyed the back of Choso’s head, dark brown hair waving against the wind as he stared ahead, sitting in front of you, black shorts covering his bottom.

Your brows furrowed as you twisted yourself around, eyeing both Sukuna and Toji who sat behind you, though with their legs stretched out and ankles crossed, leaning on the back of their palms as they didn’t even spare a glance.

What the fuck is going on? Why do I know all of their names?

Your heart begins to race as you try to make sense of the situation. Something feels wrong.

This… this doesn’t feel real.

“Did you know that soulmates can feel a pull towards each other, even when they’re miles apart?” Suguru’s calm voice cuts through the silence before you turn your attention to him.

You feel puzzled by his statement. “Soulmates?” you question, confusion lacing your tone.

You couldn’t see it, but as you walked away from the injured siren and his friend, a long, red thread protruded from your back as it connected you to the men’s chests, splitting at the end as the sirens eyed the fabric.

“It’s her. She’s the fated sixth.”

The male turned his head slightly, facing you with an easy smirk on his expression. “You can swim all you want, but the tide will always pull you along, no matter how much you fight against it.”

Suddenly, a rush of water fills your lungs as your eyes widen, your reality shifting underwater as the depths of the ocean carry you along. Your mask is vacant, along with the oxygen tank that was yanked off of you.

You couldn’t breathe. Your mouth was forced open by the pressure of the water as if it was filling your body. You gasped, suffocating as you thrashed against the surface.

Riku was in front of you, reaching for you with terror drawn over his expression. But then you notice the crimson tendrils that float around him, lowering your gaze amidst the chaos of your erratic motion as you yelp, his lower body completely detached from his torso. He was split from the middle, nothing but a gaping, fleshy hole, his insides floating.

As your vision begins to blur, you realize that you never escaped the ocean. You never even had a chance.

Glowing eyes settle around you as the sirens circle your form, the threads constricting any movement as you float in the middle of the formation. A light glows from the bottom of the sea, spreading throughout the vicinity as it engulfs your dying form.

Pressure forces your legs to press together, contorting your limbs into an unnatural formation as you twist and turn against the threads. Pain erupted throughout your body as you released a guttural scream from the agony shooting through your lower half.

Eventually, you couldn’t feel your legs as you normally would. They stretched until scales covered the skin, a multicolored hue forming as a long tail emerged from your body. You could feel your arms and ears shifting, fins protruding from your skin, matching the color of your tail.

You didn’t have time to feel the disbelief, shock, or devastation as the familiar void tugs at your essence.

—𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎.

—𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚍 (𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜)

wc: 1369

You sit up in bed, breathing ragged as you hold a hand to your chest. Your lips are apart as the sweat beads along the lining of your forehead. You quickly pat the palms of your hands against your neck and torso as you ensure that you’re alive and physically apparent.

The lowering sun gleams through the crack of the curtains as it shines over the bedroom. You snatch the covers from your lower half, examining your legs as you curl your toes for reassurance. You exhale a slow breath as you fall back onto your pillow in relief.

[songbirdseung]

cute aggression / lee heeseung

who could get any cuter than your boyfriend, lee heeseung.? notoriously known to have that flity, confident, and "playboy" persona. consider yourself lucky that you get to see that side of him as much as he considers himself lucky that you see right through him and see him for who he really is; bambi boy.

there he is, walking toward you with that signature smirk, each step laced with effortless confidence. it’s never a dull task to simply watch him—to admire the way the world seems to bend in his favor, how his presence alone can turn even the most ordinary moment into something captivating. but even better than watching from afar is the chance to sit beside him, to talk for hours about everything and nothing, just soaking in the sound of his voice and the thoughts that run through his mind.

spending time with him is your favorite part of the day. no matter how exhausting work is, the second you're in his presence, everything feels lighter. his smile alone is enough to heal the weight of the world on your shoulders. that's just the way he is; your love, your safe place, your everything. just as you are his.

"you're staring again, baby."

his fingers snap in front of your face, pulling you back to reality, though you weren’t exactly lost... just caught up in admiring him again.

"i’d be stupid not to."

flirting with him is a dangerous game, mostly because you never win. he always has something better up his sleeve, something that makes you lose your train of thought entirely, leaving you flustered, speechless, and struggling to recover. it’s infuriating sometimes, but mostly, it makes your heart race, your legs weak, and your cheeks burn. and he knows it too. he lives for the way you react, never missing an opportunity to tease you for it.

but every once in a while, you manage to turn the tables, catching him off guard and getting to see that rare, vulnerable side of him; the side that turns the confident, smooth talker into the softest, most lovable mess.

like in the mornings, when he clings to you like a lifeline the moment you try to slip out of bed. his grip tightens, his face buried in your neck, a lazy pout forming on his lips as he mumbles half-asleep protests.

"pleaaase, just stay with me a little longer… or else i’ll cry."

you laugh, brushing a hand through his messy hair, knowing full well he’s only being dramatic to get what he wants. but you let him have his way because, really, who could ever say no to him?

he’s a fool in love, and maybe you are too. but if this is what love looks like...full of teasing, laughter, warmth, and unwavering affection.... then yes please

"you're so dramatic," you mumble, though your fingers still find their way into his hair, combing through the soft strands. he hums in satisfaction, nuzzling even further into you, completely unbothered by your half-hearted complaints.

"and yet, you love me for it," he says smugly, his voice slightly muffled against your skin.

you roll your eyes, but there's no denying it. you do love him. every ridiculous, dramatic, overly affectionate part of him.

"just five more minutes," he pleads, his grip on you tightening like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. "or ten. actually, let’s just stay like this forever."

you sigh, pretending to think about it. "hmm, tempting, but i do have responsibilities, you know?"

he groans, clearly not liking your answer. "boo, responsibilities are overrated. i am your responsibility now. take care of me."

"oh, so now i’m your personal caretaker?" you tease, poking his cheek.

he finally lifts his head, resting his chin on your shoulder as he gives you that boyish, sleepy grin that always gets you in trouble. "obviously. i’m a very needy boyfriend, in case you haven't noticed."

you huff, feigning exasperation, but your resolve is crumbling fast, especially when he presses a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder, his way of silently begging you to stay.

and that’s when you cave.

letting out a dramatic sigh of your own, you reach for your phone, scrolling through your contacts. sunghoon would kill you for skipping work, but whatever.

"you're lucky i love you," you mutter as you press call, holding the phone to your ear.

"oh?" he perks up instantly, his sleepy eyes suddenly wide with excitement. "are you actually calling in sick?"

"shh, i’m trying to sound convincing," you scold, waving a hand at him. but he’s already grinning, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling in satisfaction.

"i’m the best boyfriend ever," he sighs dreamily. "i should get an award for this."

"you should get a job," you shoot back, hanging up after successfully convincing your boss that you were too sick to come in.

he gasps, placing a hand over his heart. "wow. that was uncalled for."

you laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "just making sure your ego stays in check."

he wraps his arms around your waist again, pulling you flush against him. "oh, baby, my ego is fine. but now that you’re staying home with me…" he smirks, flipping you onto your back so he’s hovering over you, "…what should we do with all this extra time?"

you shove his face away with a laugh, but neither of you makes any effort to move from bed. it looks like the rest of the day will be spent exactly like this

and honestly? you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[haithhegimp]

in my heart of hearts, they are all Real robins (honourable mentions!)

WHOOF alright ranting and robin list under the cut!

these are a whooole buncha robins pulled from DC database robin disambiguation (which i cant link properly for somefuck reason, just look DC database robin disambiguation to get the page im talking about), that i sorted through with some criteria

have to be called robin- robin adjascent characters who are not called robin are not counted (but im making an honourable mentions thing of them)

they have to be a hero/vigilante/crime-fighter/something like that (did i ignore this rule to add cassandra? yes i did but screw you, its cass)

if i have one robin with a certain name, then i won't include AU versions of that robin (eg i didnt include any of the AU dick graysons)

the rule above does not apply if they are just named robin

they have to be in a comic- doesn't matter if theyre from a comic, as long as they're in one (did i make this rule because of matt mcginnis? yes, yes i did.)

i only double checked some of them so there are almost definitely robins that should be in the honourable mentions thing i will be making, but snuck in here. i dont care because i love them (side eyes bruce clone robin and grits teeth) like them all.

i did not order or organize them (other than dick, jason, and lance being the first three) because that would actually fucking kill me, so you can make a game of finding which robins are which! here is a list of them all, also not in order or by who is who because again that would kill me. please find them on dc database if youre interested. a lot of them are very fun characters.

dick grayson

lance bruner

jason todd

tim drake

carie kelley

stephanie brown

damian wayne

duke thomas

bruce wayne

helena wayne

christopher ward

francisco ramirez

robinbot

robintron

lance hart

anita jean

john grayson

talia kane

robzarro

barbara gordon (earth 37)

bruce wayne junior (earth 38)

clark wayne (earth 38)

cassandra (earth 118)

billy batson (the batman who laughs)

robin king (dark multiverse / king of pain)

matt(hew) mcginnis

drake winston

ricky (robin 3000)

tris plover (legends of the dead earth)

dexter dent

gan (elseworlds / beyond the white knight)

thomas wayne (elseworlds / robin 3000)

robert chang (digital justice)

marya (elseworlds / batman: i, joker)

daxton chill (we are robin)

isabella ortiz (we are robin)

dre cipriani (we are robin)

riko sheridan (we are robin)

fam im not going to lie all the we are robin kids were supposed to be in honourable mentions but i miscalculated how many robins were there when making my base and needed some more folks. i was making duke an exception anyways (because DUKE) so i just stretched that a little to be all the we are robin kids

robin (just imagine)

robin (earth 43)

robin ii (dark multiverse / crisis on infinite earths)

robin (possible futures / futures end)

robin (possible futures / batman: year 100)

robin (possible futures / dc one million)

robin (dc love is a battlefield)

that is!!! all of them in the drawing, i believe! (let me know if i missed any lol) i physically cannot tag them all because there are more than 30 of them and 30 tags is the limit, so ill be tagging the mainstream ones and just "robin"!

if youre curious why this all happened, its all because of lance. i gave that motherfucker PITY FANART but then the neurodivergence kicked in and i got attatched, and then i was scrolling through the robin disambiguation page and i just felt so so sad because do any of these robins have fanart!? does anyone ever draw them!?!? how can i give lance pity fanart when hes not even a real robin (i love you lance) and then Not draw all these robins!?!?!? so yeah i drew them. i still feel bad because i couldnt draw ALL of them but like i had to give myself a limit because im genuinely sorry but im NOT drawing dick grayson (earth-one), dick grayson (earth-two), dick grayson (new-earth), and dick grayson (prime-earth) because those are all of his versions from MAINSTREAM. not even alternate universes he has that many versions in MAINSTREAM. i would actually go into a fucking coma if i chose to draw ALL the robins.

[byshens]

yang jungwon x fem! reader. smut + mdni.

warnings breeding, rough jungwon, hair pulling, riding, choking, multiple rounds, small orgasim denial, overstimulation, slight sub! jungwon at the end(?) … lmk if i missed any. 🧍

requests are open! word count 616

i cant be the only one who thinks about the duality jungwon would have in a relationship.. like he would be such a cute boyfriend, he’s always spoiling you with gifts, never missing a holiday or sepcial occasion. could never harm a fly type of guy, until hes in bed.

in bed, oh yeah, he’s rough. he’s throwing you around on the bed, pushing your head into the pillow as he fucks into you hard, his speed so fast you could barely speak. sweat trickling down his neck as he grabs a fist full of your hair to pull you up, forcing a moan out of you.

then, he’s wrapping a hand around your throat to keep you up, his grip squeezing every now and then. his thrusts slowing down as he makes you beg, then speeding back up when he’s satisfied.

oh he’s a menace, i tell you.

turning you around so you’re on your back before plowing back into your heat, moaning your name so prettily that you cant help but kiss him hard. “please, wonie..” you whine, he brings one leg over his shoulder so he can hit deeper into you, your back arching off the bed with a loud moan.

“fuck, yn. taking me so well,” he moans above you, the grip he has on your waist so tight he could leave bruises, which you pray it does. always loving the marks he leaves on your skin. jungwon doesnt stop until you come, but you know thats not the end.

even when you cover his cock with yourself, he doesnt stop. your legs shaking as you claw at his back. you know he never stops at one round, he has too much stamina for that. “god, you’re so so pretty, just for me.” he praises, loving how messed up you looked.

he pulls out just to flip you both over, so now he’s on his back and you’re on top. one of his favorite positions and you know it, he loves the view from down there. you take his length and position it back at your entrance before sinking down, a loud whine leaving your lips.

jungwon doesnt even wait before he’s gripping tightly onto your hips and fucking up into you roughly, watching how you bounce on top of him. your hands find themselves on his chest to try and keep balance, your back arching as he hits the sweet spot over and over again, your eyes watering from how good it is.

“fuck! fuck, please wonie. i’m gonna—“

“hold it.” he demands, your walls instantly clenching around him as he continues to use you as he pleases. “be a good girl for me and wait. can you do that for me?”

you immediately nod your head and let out a moan, letting him get off with your body. the knot in your stomach getting tighter with each thrust, so desperately needing to release but you knew better.

jungwon’s thrusts start to get sloppy but rougher, trying to fuck you as much as he can. “baby, can i come inside? please please, i need to fill you up.” he begs, his voice whiny as he digs his nails into your hips.

your legs are shaking, breath is trembling, and you nod. “please, breed me.” you reply, his hips snapping up one last time before you feel his load shoot into you, “come for me,” he says watching your face as you release, yeah, always his favorite part.

you fall forward onto his chest, so out of breath. he only smiles and rubs your back, his thrusts now at an annoyingly slow pace. he giggles, “don’t get too comfortable, we aren’t done.”

© byshens. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, plagiarize, or post onto another platforms without my consent.

[strangecreaturewrites]

⟢ i won't leave you, pt 2 ⊹⠀ ﾟ ˖

mickey x f!reader ⊹ fresh off the printer, mickey finds you in bed. an important conversation follows. warnings: some kissing in this part, but nothing too crazy. ✧ part one ‧ ₊ ˚ . ( i don't have any further intentions for this lil fic, but please let me know your thoughts or if you would like to see more <3 )

Mercifully, you had a dreamless sleep. The next thing that broke through into your conscious mind was the feeling of a cool sheet being pulled over you, a gentle hand on your bare shoulder, a lingering kiss pressed to your forehead.

Your eyes snapped open with a gasp. The lights in the room were dim, and you guessed it must have been evening by now. It can be hard to tell in these windowless rooms.

It took a moment for your vision to focus, but when it did, the beauty of Mickey’s widened, clear, perfect blue eyes took your breath away.

He’s here.

“Oh! Sorry,” Mickey whispered, wincing a little. “Didn’t mean to wake you up. Let me just get undressed, an’ I’ll join you.”

If you had to be honest, the last thing you wanted was to stay in bed. Your body ached from sleeping too long, your empty stomach was cramping so hard you felt sick, and your head felt like it was full of sand after crying the way you did. Instead of saying any of that though, you sat up and silently watched Mickey take off his standard issue shirt and pants. You swallowed and swallowed against the lump in your throat so that you could talk to him without sounding too emotional, too upset.

He filled the silence with chatter, seemingly oblivious to anything that might be wrong with you.

“-said I nearly fell to the floor when I came out this time, how funny is that? Bet I looked pretty goofy there for a minute, floppin’ out of the printer like that.”

He balled up his clothes and tossed them into the corner of the room. You admired his body the way you always did, thought about how it wasn’t fair that he could look this good in the generic white boxers inventory handed out, and you worked to not let the raw, tender feeling in your chest get the best of you. How lucky you were, you reminded yourself.

His new body always moved a little sluggishly, so when he swung his arm back, he clipped his hand on the edge of the table, hard. He yanked it to his chest with a pained hiss, and on a different day, you might have teased him for his clumsiness or reminded him to be careful. This time, you just winced, tears stinging your eyes. Why did you have to be so damn sensitive right now?

With an exaggerated, silent ‘ouch!’ Mickey shook out the pain in his hand. He sat down on the edge of the bed near you. “Don’t worry, pain receptors are working just fine. Anyway… how was your day? Y’ looked like you were sleeping hard, so you must’ve had a rough shift. I hate that I missed- oh, hey- mmh!”

You pulled him into a deep kiss, cradling his face. The tender feeling coiling around your heart surged, and you dragged him further into you, your fingertips pressed into his jaw, his neck. The angle was awkward, your front pressed into his side, your body wrapped around his from behind. But he moaned anyway. Smiled against your lips anyway. Shifted his body to curve toward yours so he could wrap his arms around you, as if nothing burdened him.

Your lips moved roughly against his, opening up to taste his tongue, and he met you with the same fervor, though the energy felt different coming from him. You felt out of control, wound up, hungry; he was passionate, but he was also blissful, relaxed. There wasn’t a bit of tension in his body — he would take your onslaught happily, without question.

Didn’t he remember what happened? Didn’t he remember you were there?

Mickey’s arms tightened around you, pulling you in until your knee slid over his legs. You straddled him, not a whisper of space between you, and your body felt like it was singing. Your mind floated away from you as your hands roved over his shoulders, his back, his arms. He was here and well and whole and alive. He died in your arms, and when he woke back up, the first thing he did was find you. Was there any fact more monumental than that? Could anything else ever matter more than that?

Head swimming, you pulled back to take a shaky breath. Before you could dive in again, Mickey tilted his head away. His eyes, soft with exhaustion, looked over your face thoughtfully.

Then, so gently that you knew exactly what he meant, he asked, “Are you okay?”

Your breath hitched. You were stricken once again by every complicated thought and emotion you couldn’t put words to this morning.

Are you okay? Would he feel guilty if you said no? But how could you be anything other than okay now? All of your tears and heartache — hadn’t it all been for nothing, when you knew you would be with him like this?

“Yeah,” you replied, already leaning in to claim his mouth once more.

He let you kiss him, let you tip him back onto the mattress, but before you could lose yourself in him, he drew back again.

“You don’t… seem… okay,” he murmured, his voice quiet, hesitant.

Maybe he hadn’t been so oblivious, like you had assumed before.

You pressed your forehead to his, closing your eyes. “I’m fine. I just need to be with you.”

“Okay, well… I wanna say something first, before we do anything else.” Then he paused for a moment, brushing his nose with yours. Your heartbeat thrummed in your ears, roaring over Mickey’s soft voice. “You know I can’t resist you, but some things are more important, y'know? What you did for me, in the tank… I never would’ve asked you to do that, not in a thousand years. It must’ve been hell. I know you’re strong, but… that’s the type of stuff that breaks people, and… I just wanted to say, you never have to do that again. You never have to watch me… y’know, die like that. Ever again.”

“If I’m there when it happens again, I’m not leaving you,” you said before your brain could catch up with the words. Your voice sounded more confident than you might have expected, and after a moment of reflection, you realized that you weren’t just saying it. You really meant it.

Mickey laughed, breathy, incredulous. “Why d’you put yourself through this stuff for me?”

You looked into his deep blue eyes, and you knew no one else could look upon you and make you feel this way. Something in you clicked into place, and you felt solid, stable for the first time since Mickey took his most recent last breath. You didn’t have the answers you were agonizing over before — all of the questions simply disappeared. It was ridiculous to ask them in the first place.

You ran your fingers through his hair. The way his body melted a bit under yours made you smile.

“Because I’m yours, and you’re mine. And I don’t think anyone should suffer like that alone. Especially not you. Not when I love you so much.”

“I love you too, you don’t even know how much,” he said, leaning up to kiss you. “But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“What kind of person would I be if I said I loved you then left you like that?”

He scoffed, kissing you again. “A normal one.”

“Do you want me to be a normal person?”

“No.” Another kiss.

And another. And another.

And then, after much too long, you finally got to touch what was yours again.

[evolnoomym]

Made Of Pain❄️

Grumpy!Joel Miller x Emotionally Constipated f!OC

General Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist | Support me |

Summary: You have your routine, a way of having fun but without catching unnecessary feelings. You play this game so well, that is until you decide to play with Joel Miller. Maybe this time you take it too far.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 2.4K

Authors note: Hello Friends 🫶🏻 Here I present Maneater!Moon/ emotionally constipated!Moon to y’all, she’s a mess and I hope y’all enjoy this story.🩵

Please let me know if you are interested in more, since there are possibilities for a sequel. 😏

Warnings: no y/n, F!OC, Moon as always, Maria & Tommy are a couple, Moon hates men, she’s definitely toxic in this one butttttt for a reason, daddy issues(duh), alcohol consumption, hints towards sa (not with Joel), implied age gap, Moon is kinda badass, smoking, lots of cursing, name calling, slight femdom vibes, she has a tattoo, protected p-in-v action, hard sex as a form of self-punishment, blood, eating blood (I guess???), inner conflict. If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Shoutout to @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune for the dividers 🩵

And shoutout to @joelmillerisapunk & @always-andromeda for proofreading 😇

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. 😂🫶🏻

You were happy that Maria found the guy of her dreams, really. Tommy was a good one and as long as he didn’t make any mistakes you would accept his presence.

-In the beginning he had to really try and get on your good side,- because you judged every move he made.  

At the end of that night he felt inclined to share his observation “So, you don’t like people, huh?” Tommy was not wrong.

 “I don’t, no, not most of them at least. Men, specifically, I find to be quite the disturbance.” You gave Tommy the famous look, one that he later described as “similar to Medusa’s stare.”

And it’s true, you don’t like them, men. They always gave you reasons to despise them. Whether it was your Dad lying to you all the time, abandoning you for a new life and instead choosing to love the bottle more than his daughter or all those guys who seemed kind in the beginning and then turned into depraved monsters, taking and taking whatever they could. Nowadays you play them like they did you, making them fall for you and then kicking them out. Break hearts to feed your own ego. To you it’s a game, be the hunter or be the prey. And you don’t ever want to be the prey again. 

You’re brought back to the present when Maria’s soft voice cuts through the recollections “So, what do you think?” 

Right. She had asked you to go out with her, Tommy and his older brother. 

“Uhh, sorry. Tell me again why you think this is a good idea?” 

“He is your type, older, and I thought maybe you two would get along?” 

You shake your head “No, I think you want me to date your boyfriend’s brother so we can go on those awful double-dates. Fuck no.” 

Maria lets out an annoyed huff, “Would it really be so awful to finally stop these power games and trust again?” She knows that you want to be loved, Maria is the only one who knows what hides behind the stone cold facade you built up. 

“You know I can’t.” Your words have a sense of finality to them so Maria doesn’t even bother arguing. 

“Just promise me not to play with him?” 

“I won’t play with him.” 

Tommy picks Maria and you up around 8pm, when you slide into the backseat you’re confused finding the other backseat empty.

“Well hello, Thomas. Where’s the old man?”

You ask in a fake sad voice.

“Well…hello Mooni, he’s meeting us at the bar. And maybe ya shouldn’t call him by that name once we’re all together.” Tommy replies.

“Or what? Will he throw a fit over getting a little teased?” You laugh at the prospect.

“You’re laughing now, but he might, he’s a little grumpy so don’t poke the bear too much. Just looking out for you.”

“I think I can handle myself, but thanks for the heads up,” and with that you fall into silence for the rest of the car ride.

The bar is a neat little establishment Tommy had first met Maria in, so it’s special to them. You don’t dislike it entirely but still could see yourself in a different place.

As you make the order for everyone’s drinks at the bar it doesn’t take much longer and you catch a gruff, more weathered version of Tommy swagger in. It must be Joel. He isn’t unattractive but he looks like an asshole and that is your kinda guy. Those are the ones you have the most fun breaking down; they deserve it.

After confirming the order and table number, you make your way back to the others. Joel is tall, which you notice as he gets closer. He looms over the table, casting a big shadow with his broad shoulders, strong stance, and a cute butt. He must feel your presence at his back, because he swiftly turns around. He was already attractive from behind but actually seeing his face was a whole different experience. Maria was right, he was your type, older and slightly on the verge of greying. Mature.

He eyes you suspiciously up and down, with a hint of distaste. Oh, you don’t like that.

Tommy chimes in, “Joel, this is Moon. Maria’s friend, I told ya’ about her.”

Joel simply grunts in acknowledgment.

“Yeah, fuck you too man,” you say as you push past him, making sure to knock your shoulder into his on the way.

Once you sit down, your hand goes to grab a cigarette from your case, placing it between your lips and reaching for the lighter. Joel’s annoyed face greets you, watching how you inhale that first head emptying dose of burning tobacco.

You make sure to blow it in his direction.

He mumbles under his breath “Disgustin’,”

“Oh my god, could you be any more fucking ridiculous? Maybe the grumpy old man should just stay home instead of making everyone miserable.” You lean more over the table with each word of your rant.

“Moon,” Maria sounds like a scolding mother “cool it.”

“Sure,” you lean back, nod, and take another inhale.

Perfect moment for the waitress to show up with the drinks. You immediately drink half of it; you need it to stomach the rest of the evening.

Tommy, Maria, and Joel have resigned to friendly chatter. You just observe, not really one to intervene much. It’s just how you are, either really loud or really quiet, super happy or super sad…always these extremes. Most of all reckless, selfish, and emotionally sealed shut.

It’s how you always get in trouble, just like tonight.

You gulp down the remaining cocktail and get up. The trio stops talking.

You look at Joel „Can you at least Dance?“

He’s caught off guard by the switch up in your behavior, too stunned to answer.

„Well?“

„Just say yes Joel, there’s no saying no to that one,” Tommy informs and he’s right.

You hold out your hand and tug him out of his seat and onto the dance floor.

He just awkwardly stands in front of you.

„You know you can touch me, I don’t bite.“ as you laugh.

„Oh really?“ he muses

You shake your head „Hmm, no, I have no idea what you’re talking about Joel.” You say it in a mocking sweet voice.

„You’re a real fucking brat,“ he gets closer.

„True.“

„A real fucking bitch,“ he leans in to whisper in your ear, sliding his arms around you.

„Oh no, ouch…“ you giggle into his ear. „You know what I think?“ you question.

„What?“

„You are a dirty old man, who loves bratty little bitches like me. Don’t pretend you don’t, that would just make you look dumb.“ You gently stroke your hands up his arms and lay them around his neck. You press your tits against his chest.

„Bet you like this, my young tits touching you. Hmm, are you thinking about my wet little cunt?“ you press kisses below his ear and on his jaw.

Course you double down. „Makes you hard, doesn’t it? You wish you could fuck my tight pussy, huh? Say it Joel, say I’m right.“

Joel curses Tommy for ever trying to get him more out of his comfort zone. His own little brother pushed him into the arms of the devil.

His cock is indeed swelling at your filthy—almost hypnotic—words.

“Trouble, that’s what ya’ are,” Joel grunts.

“See, there are two options. Either you want to kill me or you want to fuck me.” You ponder.

You unlatch from him and turn around, pushing your butt against his crotch. The bulge is undeniable.

“Well, well. I think I know the answer.” You swirl your hips a couple times before facing him again.

Joel tries to kiss you but you dodge it.

“What was that?”

“You don’t kiss me. Never, unless I tell you to. Yes?” You don’t even care if he understands, you take his hand and start dragging him again, this time to the bathroom.

In there, Joel bends you over the bathroom counter. He flips up your skirt, tugs down your thong and bunches up your top around your middle. Doing so reveals what must be a massive tattoo. Joel is unsure of the meaning behind the painting that covers your entire back, he sees snakes and a woman’s face in Fine black lines. He realizes after a moment that it must be Medusa. Her mouth's stapled shut; how odd.

You’re unaware of his discovery, too lost in the pleasure of having his hands on you.

But then he traces the outlines of her and says. “Nice tattoo ya’ got there,”

You freeze and immediately stare at him through the mirror with an intensity. “Don’t touch it.” Your tone leaves no room for arguments.

He takes his hands away, instead busying them by unzipping his pants and patting down his pockets for a condom. He stops his search when you pull out one from your bra and hand it to him. He almost wants to ask, but your eyes let him know not to.

Joel wastes no time, rolls the rubber down his length and nudges his tip at your entrance.

He’s taking too long, so you make the rash decision to impale yourself with his hard cock.

The sting is exactly what you need to silence those self destructive thoughts.

He should’ve never seen her but it’s your fault. You broke the rule of not letting a man take you from behind. No, it’s always a position which makes you face them or puts you above them. In control. Most of all, they don’t see her. It shows a weak spot, giving whoever is on the receiving end of her stony gaze too much power in hurting you.

Joel’s pained hiss takes you back to the present moment.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight. Jesus,”

You groan “Shut up and start fucking me, would you?”

He picks up the pace instantly, slamming his throbbing cock into your cunt. Your hips will surely be bruised by the next day.

“Soooo good, just like that,” he’s doing a damn good job. Until one of his massive hands tries to push your chest down, attempting to put him in control.

“Stop pushing me,” you mumble.

Your voice is not loud enough for him to hear, so his hand continues.

Your barely able to get a word as he’s fucking you into oblivion.

“S-s-stop, J-Joel,” you try to move your shoulders to perhaps make him notice but this turns out to be just as fruitless.

Enough is enough. You muster up the strength to lift your chest. In a split second you knock back your head, colliding with his lip.

Joel stumbles back in pain and shock. “T’fuck was that for,”

You don’t care to answer, turning around and hurdling him into the toilet stall. You push him down and take a seat in his lap. His cock fills you again, you make quick work of riding him in earnest. Slamming yourself down hard over and over. Until you suddenly stop to lift a finger to his bleeding lip, swiping generously through the ruby liquid and sucking that finger into your mouth. You keep intense eye contact with Joel while doing so.

“Jesus, you are fucking crazy,” he mumbles.

You start riding him again and whisper back. “Just how you imagined me, right?”

Your thighs start feeling sore pretty quickly, Joel notices that, of course he does and tries to offer help.

“Why don’t ya’ let me do some of the work, huh?”

You shake your head. “I don’t need your fucking help, Joel,” you practically hiss.

“Please,” something about the way he begs has your act crumbling.

“Okay, but you fuck me against the door,” you instruct.

“Sure,” he hoists you up with him by grabbing your thighs but before he can move you give more instructions.

“I want you to slam me against the door and then pound me.”

“What?” Joel is confused about your request.

“Are you really that hard of hearing old man?” you lean in and rasp in his ear. “Slam me against the door and fuck me. Or are you too much of a pussy, huh?” You know exactly what your taunting will get you.

Joel makes an angry throaty sound almost like a bull.

Your backside colliding with the plastic of the door as well as your head too has you deliciously dizzy. You need the pain as a distraction of how much you betray yourself by letting him take control.

“You like that, fucking bitch?” You laugh at his words.

“I do, but can you finish now? I'm getting bored.” More taunting.

And Joel gets to it. Fucking up into you so roughly that you think your shoulder blades will be bruised as well by the way he slams you into the door. You can feel him so deep, hitting all the right spots. In the haze of his throbbing member fucking the air out of you, Joel’s thumb rubs soothing circles into your thigh. A stark contrast to the brutal pounding he gifts you.

Joel’s rhythm slowly gets more uneven and you know he’s close. You put one hand on his face and the other slips down between your body’s to rub your clit.

“Come on Joel, I know you wanna cum for me, don’t you?” You lean closer until your lips almost touch his. “Fill me up, do it. I love that big cock in my tight cunt and you do too, right Joel?” Your words combined with how you pulsed around him were too much to bear. He couldn’t stave his orgasm off any longer and soon shot spurts of his warm cum into the condom.

He slipped out of your used hole, and you made fast work of pushing him further away before fixing your clothes. Joel's about to speak up when you cut him off. You saw that look in his eyes and you don’t like what it means.

Maybe this time you took it too far, you can still feel his hands on your body, how gentle he was, so caring even through all the roughness. Something you don’t deserve.

You are used to being touched. But with Joel it’s different. And you don’t like it. You lowered your guard too much.

You need to get out of the toilet stall and away from Joel. The last thing you say to him before disappearing is full of disgust.

“Don’t get any stupid ideas, this didn’t mean shit. We just fucked.”

©️ evolnoomym 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Tagging who I think might enjoy this: @aurorawritestoescape @pedgito @chaotic-mystery @stellamarielu @mushgloomz @lilac-boo @tateypots @slimybeth69 @strang3lov3 @gutsbys @604to647 @magpiepills @toxicanonymity 😈

[reverieblondie]

Be Sweet to Me

Chapter 3

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Fem!reader

Warnings: Eventual smut, Pining, Teasing, Inquires, and Drinking Alternating POVs, What the hell is happening!!

Summary: You find him hurt and bleeding out... super hero or not you have to help him... he's your friend...

A/N: Oh hey... Miggy, I've missed you and this story. If your still following along we will be finishing this story... I have plans... teehee.

Chapter: 2 <- ///////// -> Chapter: 4

Series Masterlist, ATSV Masterlist

It feels like your lungs are on fire as you run through the dark streets. The red and blue lights of the officers' cars cascade over the dark pavement and glow against the buildings. You're careful not to call his name or look suspicious as you pass them, but once out of range, you're back to calling his name as you run down every dark alley. 

Part of you knows that you probably can't do much for the wounded hero, but you want to try…if there is a slight chance it's Miguel, you want to help him. 

Passing by an ally, you're about to rush past it, but a soft rustling causes you to pause from your sprint to look towards the ally. Your slow footsteps echo through the concrete walls, making the rustling stop suddenly. 

"Hello?…" 

Your timid question is greeted with nothingness. Though you are not deterred, you know you heard something. Walking forward, you strain your eyes through the darkness to scan around for any clue, and that's when you see the dark dribbles of blood on the pavement. 

"Spider-man?" 

-still nothing…

Scrunching up some courage, you ball your hands into a fist and try again, "Miguel…"

Doubt starts to swell in your chest, and you feel dread crawling through you. Are you…too late?

"Miguel… Please, if-if you're here I want to help you…please, Mig…" Your voice slightly gives as your worry is getting the better of you…Tears threatening to fall from your eyes. 

“You…You shouldn’t…be here…” 

The familiar voice calls from the darkness, making your eyes widen. Hearing the voice gives you a slight feeling of relief, but not fully; you still need to make sure he is okay, and from the sound of his strained voice, you're not too sure of his state. 

"Miguel!" You call out to him before rushing towards the groan he gives from you shouting his name -probably not the best idea… but you can't help from the relive you feel from hearing his voice. 

As you get closer, you pause when you see the two red glowing eyes in the darkness. 

Walking up slowly, you keep your eyes on his glowing ones. Finally, you get close enough to see him fully. Miguel's large body is slumped, leaning against the building for support. Those red eyes are narrow as he studies your approach. His breaths are labored as he clutches his bleeding side. The outfit is a hoodie that is stained by blood.

Your hands cover your mouth as you try to swallow down your growing panic. It doesn't look good, and fueled by your instincts, you drop to your knees, trying to reach him, to somehow help him up and get him to safety. However, as you try to cup his face, Miguel quickly turns away. Though littered with grim and bruises, his face is still in that same scowl like always. The immediate rejection hurts, but you know deep down he's just scared and unsure, and you can't blame him for that.

"Miguel, I-"

"Leave." His voice cuts you off, that habit of his that makes your eye twitch most days... 

Taking a deep breath, you meet his eyes again. You're not going to let him push you away, not now, not when he needs help. He's getting your help whether he

Like it or not.

Swallowing down your nerves, you reach out again, but this time, he catches your wrist, his intense eyes not breaking away from yours.

"I told you to leave..." -the distrust…

"No, Miguel... I know you don't trust me, but you're hurt, whether you like it or not. I'm going to help you." Miguel's face contorted with thought, and you ended up getting your wrist free and grabbing his arm instead. "Miguel, please trust me. If I really wanted to betray you, I would have done so already!"

Miguel stares at you. You can see in his eyes all the thoughts swirling in his head. Finally, he sighs, the one he does when he knows you've made a point. You smile on the inside, using all your energy to help him up. But you really doubt your much help. 

"Come on, I live close by. We need to get you hidden and patched up." Slinging his arm over your shoulder, you can't help but get a bit winded when you try to lift his weight. Your arm wraps around Miguel's waist, trying to avoid his bleeding side. Miguel lets out a muffled sorry, adjusting before you two head towards your apartment, trying your best not to seem suspicious.  

Though that might be hard, considering it looks like you're dragging a 6'9 man around…

He tries so hard to keep his breathing steady and his cool, but his situation is making it rather difficult…

"I know I have one somewhere, so just hold on!"

Miguel opens his eyes, taking a deep breath. "You're panicking, of course. You just found out your co-worker is Spider-Man, and now he's trying not to bleed out on your couch." Miguel would have been worried if you weren't panicking. That's not the only thing roaming through his mind. How did you figure it out? He had been so careful…

Then a shiver runs through him... What if you're one of those crazed stalkers, one that's been watching him for months and figured out his secret!

Miguel scans your apartment for clues, but everything seems normal and cozy. It's clear you don't have a lavish place, but it's homey. It's filled with things like nicknacks and art, pillows and blankets on every piece of furniture, and a bowl of fruit in your kitchen. Miguel assumes it's for anyone to just grab a snack whenever they get slightly peckish. Your apartment is a clear representation of you, friendly and inviting.

As he stands to take in your space further, he is reminded that even though he has regeneration, he still feels the pain fully. Due to his exhausted state, his body doesn't want to heal as fast as it usually does. This is going to be a long night…

"Found it!" Your voice cheers, and before Miguel knows it, you're rushing to his side with what looks to be a hardly used first aid kit. Though your voice is cheerful, your hands tremble as you try to open the kit. It looks like your panic is worse than he thought.

Miguel can't stand to look at you struggling much longer as he finally grabs your shaking hands. Of course, when he does, it feels like soft lighting warming through him. He meets your eyes and sees them as wide as saucers, though he can tell you're trying…

Miguel lets out a long sigh as he lets go of your hands, wincing as he does, "Do you have any alcohol?"

You keep your eyes in an unblinking stare as they slowly slide over to his side, still wet with blood. Then you nod, rushing off to grab it from its cabinet. Miguel hardly has a second to breathe before you run back in with a bottle of tequila. Well, that's one kind of alcohol…

"I-I... Well, I have this..." You say, lifting the bottle. Miguel must have made a face because you immediately start backpedaling. "Oh, wait, you probably meant rubbing alcohol!"

Of course, you start rambling again, and Miguel doesn't think he can take bleeding out and listen to your panic at the same time, so without saying anything, he simply leans forward, plucking the bottle from your fingers. Miguel winces from the pain before undoing the cap and taking big gulps from the bottle. He thinks this might have perfectly tuned you out for a moment, but when he looks over, you're just staring at him gobsmacked.

Once satisfied, he returned the bottle to you, saying, "Take some…" To his surprise, you actually did take a swig before coughing from the burn.

The sight alone is enough for him to forget this odd situation and scoff a quick laugh.

You look up at him, trying to mask your grimace, "Why did you have me do that?" 

Miguel keeps his face neutral as he looks down at the wound, starting to wipe away the blood with a towel. At least he's beginning to stop bleeding... 

"I didn't think you actually would… But it helps numb the pain, and hopefully, with enough, it will calm you down." You give him a frown at his quip. Miguel can tell you to give your own comeback, but before you can, he clicks his watch and makes the top of his suit disappear. He waits for your response as he begins to patch himself up, taking the alcohol and pouring it on his side before quickly wiping it away. The contact stings enough for him to hiss. It's not rubbing alcohol, but those lizards can be nasty, and he can't risk infection… 

Miguel looks up to see what your problem is, and that's when he sees your eyes wide on him and your face thoroughly flushed. He lifts a brow towards you, and all you can do is swipe up the tequila bottle for one more gulp before placing it back and excusing yourself. 

Well, at least he knows how to finally shut you up…

Your face feels like you have a fever, and now you're here. Hiding out in your bathroom. It's all so surreal; you were right... Miguel is Spider-man; this whole time, you thought drugs, or maybe he was sneaking off a quick fuck. But no, he's simply putting on a costume and fighting crime. Like that's normal... 

And what's with that suit?! Why is it just dissolving away? Revealing his immaculate build like that… Did he design it? Well, duh, this is Miguel the brain… is it nanobots? A hologram… is he wearing underwear? Because you have not seen one underwear line… 

Shaking your head, you force yourself to think about more pressing things, like what this means for you and for him. What is supposed to happen next? Does he trust you? Do you trust him? You want to, but is he hiding more secrets?

Not that you can really blame him for this huge secret... It's just so weird... Miguel is always so dependable, quiet, and hardworking. He's juggling a whole other life; how can anyone manage that without imploding? Then again, he has been tired lately…

Actually, the more you think about it,  the more obvious it is. They do have the same builds… same butts… and that's because it's the same guy! Guess people can recognize each other by their asses. 

Perhaps people just don't pay close enough attention to others...

With a breath, you look to your mirror and decide with everything you should wash your face to bring yourself back to reality a bit and hopefully fix your bright red cheeks in the process. As you splash water on your face, the cold water starts to ground you, and you feel the panic begin to fade slowly. Hopefully, he's done bleeding… Maybe you should look up how to stitch up someone? Or wait, doesn't he heal fast? Maybe make him some soup to get his energy up? -does he eat soup… there was a rumor he drank blood for energy…

You reach for your towel to wipe your face but can't find it. Peaking through one eye to see it, you meet with your towel... floating? Not only is your hand towel floating, but your toothpaste, hair brush, and hair dryer—everything is floating around like it's suspended in water or something. Looking over to the door, you see a kaleidoscope of colors shining from underneath. What the hell is Miguel doing now?!

Rushing out of the bathroom back to your living room, you see the floating happening everywhere. In the middle of your living room, you see an odd-looking, colorful portal pulsing. You look over at Miguel, who's just standing there watching the portal with a glare. Naturally, you do the wise thing and hide behind Miguel's back for cover. Sure, you're touching him while he's shirtless, feeling his smooth skin that is so incredibly hot. 

Miguel must feel your clinging because he suddenly speaks to you as he keeps his eyes forward: "Don't be scared. We're okay."

We're okay?! How is he so calm! You lean in further to look at the old thing, but you feel Miguel's large arm holding you back as his hand rests on your hip. Looking up at him he doesn't meet your eyes, but the furrow in his brow and the set of his jaw, you know this look… he's irritated.

"How can you say we are okay? There's a... thing in my apartment!" You say frantically, holding onto his massive arm like it alone could save you. 

"Because I know the people on the other side." 

Before you can ask anything further, a figure begins to appear, and you cling tighter to Miguel. The closer they get, the more you can make out its appearance. Tall with fluffy brown hair, he looks a little bit older than you and Miguel. Then his outfit—red and blue spandex—with a spider in the middle of the chest! Once fully through, you see the man smiling towards Miguel. 

"Miguel! You're okay; we were worried!" The man greets Miguel with a smile. He looks like he might go in for a hug until Miguel snaps at him.

"Peter, why are you here? You shouldn't be here!" Miguel's hand tightens on your hip. You swear you feel slight poking. 

Peter, apparently, tilts his head confused, asking why. Before finally taking a look around the space, the man lets out a quick, "Huh, no wonder it wasn't the usual place?" 

As the hazel-eyed man looks around, he spots you clinging to Miguel's arm. Peter lifts his brow, showing clear confusion before it changes to a mischievous smirk. 

"Am I interrupting?" Peter wags his eyebrows up and down for further effect. Miguel is not amused by the intruder, which only makes Peter laugh more. As he does, his gaze goes back to you before stilling. He observes you like he's thinking hard before suddenly snapping his fingers and pointing at you in recognition. "It's you! I thought you looked familiar your the-"

Before he can reveal more, Miguel is letting go of your hip and slapping his hand over Peter's mouth, restoring his spider suit to normal. "Peter, quite." He turns to you, his eyes intense. And you... you're coming with us..."

You blink at him for a moment before responding… "Where are we going?" 

Miguel steps closer, invading your space as he looms over you, "HQ." 

taglist:@oharasfilipinawife @aisyakirmann @spdrwdw @huniedeux @lazyjellyfish300 @rosegnome @straw-berry-ghoul @migueloharastruelove @skylertully @keiva1000 @mika-312 @lunablackcosplay @aroyalbirb @blueapplesiren @9-xx7 @gothicteddybearhugs @0bonnie-bunny0 @scaleniusrm @killjoyous @dekisugihan

[angelltheninth]

Different Kind of Heat

Pairing: Idia Shroud x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, heat/rut, blowjob, flirting, biting, power dynamics, begging, omegaverse, alpha!Idia Shroud, omega!Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Love Idia and omegaverse, love both in one fic.

The first few hours of your heat has been manageable. The school staff gave you your own room in a special part of the school dorm, specifically for omega's who go into heat. The school can't afford to have a bunch of students popping out babies. That is why even when there was mating, because the staff weren't idiots and knew that their students would seek each other out, they at least wanted those involved to be safe.

You had everything you could need. Enough food and water in the fridge to last you a week, clean clothes in the closet, the softest bed you've slept on in a while, and a variety of toys that you could use to make your heat easier if your fingers weren't enough.

As much as you appreciated all of that none of it was enough. You plunged you fingers deep into your heated cunt, trying to find some, or any form of relief in your current horny state.

The ring of your phone startled you, but not enough to stop pleasuring yourself, especially when you saw that it was Idia who was calling you. He's always very considerate, even offered to spend your heat with you when he found out it was approaching. But you didn't want him to miss out on classes just for that. He told you the same when he was in rut and you respected that.

You did want him here. You wanted him more than anything. His warm body against yours, his fangs on your neck, his hands all over you, exploring, touching, his tongue and mouth licking between your folds right before he gives you his cock and knots you.

"Darling, can you hear me?" His voice was gruff, a little more strained than usual, almost like he just got over a cold and had a sore throat. You liked how he sounded.

"Mhmm. Sorry, I- It's... starting to get real bad." The sound of his voice, his thoughtful hum right next to your ear only made you reach for a nearby blue dildo and push it in, your pussy taking it all too easily.

"It sounds like it. I only wanted to check up on you. How's my dove doing? Do you need anything?" It was so sweet how thoughtful and concerned he was.

"Your cock." You were way past any need for decency, " Idia I need you to come here and fill me up with your seed." Idia's growl came in through the phone, sending shivers down your spine and into your cunt as you doubled the pace not caring if your moans got too loud.

"Keep talking. Just keep talking love, what else? How do you want me? What do you want me to do to you if I was there? What does my omega want?"

"I want you to claim me. Bite me. Mark my cunt with your cum. Give me every last drop. Mount me and breed me. Make my cunt beg for your cock. Fuck! Idia, please." You throw your head back, dropping the phone and clenching the pillow next to your head as your orgasm crashes over you.

You hear Idia's voice still talking but your heat ridden brain doesn't catch any of it, the sound fading into white noise as you try to catch your breath.

"Go open the door." Those are the words that you recognize clearly first. It gives you pause.

"Huh? The... door?" With a groan you slide the dildo out, letting the slick length fall next to the bed as you raise yourself on your elbows and look at the locked door. You're still dizzy as you move on wobbly legs and slowly unlock your room door.

The scent hits you as soon as it cracks open just a little. Like sulfur and cotton candy, and little bit of smoke. Unmistakably Idia. Unmistakably your mate.

"Surprise love." Idia smirks while still holding the phone as he pushes into the room, his scent wrapping around you, making your brain overload with lust. You almost drop on your knees right there and then, "I know it's not really the protocol but I've spoken to the Headmaster already. The way I see it, if I help you then your heat will be over quicker, and you can go back to class. So let me help my girl out yeah?" His cock was already staring against the zipper as he took off his jacket, quickly followed by the rest of his clothes.

Before he could set his clothes to the side you grabbed his jacket and took a big breath of his scent, "Next time leave this one with me."

Idia smiled and cocked his head to the side, sending comforting pheromones your way, "It's my favorite. But I suppose I wouldn't mind it smelling like you." He would smell like you. He'd be wearing your scent. All the time.

Now you did actually drop to your knees, right in front of his throbbing cock and closed your mouth and hand around it without even a second thought.

"On your knees for me already?" Idia patted the top of your head as you sucked him off, needy and sloppy and wonton, moaning every time your lips touched his swelling knot. "Make sure to get me ready for you."

Oh you will, his cock was already slippery and wet from your spit, making it very easy for you to pump your hand across his throbbing shaft. Idia's hips jerked every so often, a breathless moan falling from his lips as you focused your attention on the red tip of his cock, tapping it with your tongue before closing your mouth around it again.

"Stop." You could tell that the command was as painful for him as it was for you. You pulled away with a needy whine, your eyes cloudy and lips stained with bits of his pre-cum. "Don't worry." He smoothed his hand into your hair, "I just want to come inside of you. Is that alright?"

Your eyebrows shot up at his words, you didn't expect him to be quite so forward. Then again he was currently in the presence of an omega in heat. An omega that wore his mating mark. You tilted your head and watched his mouth drop open a his eyes narrowed in on the base of your neck. "More than alright."

You scrambled towards the bed, your back falling against the soft pillows as you let your legs fall open, giving Idia a full view of your wet pussy, "I see you're ready for me too." He smiled as he stroked his cock, "Condoms?"

Shaking your head you parted your folds with two fingers, "I'm on the pill. I want to feel you. All of you. Every inch."

You watched Idia's eyes darken, his hair flaring up at the tips as he knelt above you and pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance. He felt so hot. He always ran hot, but this a different kind flame. The kind that threatened to consume you whole. And you'd gladly let it.

He sank in slowly, groaning while being enveloped into your soft heat, "Gods above and below. You're sopping wet darling. I think you might even be able to take my knot on first try." You nod your head eagerly, your hands settling in his shoulders for leverage, "Yeah? Does my omega want to be knotted that bad? I saw that dildo at the foot of the bed you know. It's pretty big. You were getting yourself ready weren't you? Ready for my cock. My knot."

"I was thinking about you." You confess as you breathe his scent in, "I just wanted you here with me. No one else Idia. Only you. Only my alpha."

"I like the sound of that. I'd gladly call myself yours. And after this, after tonight you can wear my mark on full display. I don't care what anyone says. I want them to know who you belong to. I want them to know whose cunt this is." He snaps his hips forward, sinking into you all the way to his knot, "Open up for me baby, take my knot."

His blunt nails scratch your thighs, his mouth snapping as he growls and keeps pushing forward, intent on getting his knot in.

"Whose are you hm? Whose pussy is this? Say it." His mouth closes and sucks on your mating mark. You come again, all over his dick, finally letting his knot slide into you with a loud, satisfying pop.

"Yours. It's all yours alpha. All yours to fuck and use and breed however many times you want." You drag your nails across his back as you sink your teeth into his neck, renewing the mark you previously made. "Prove I'm yours. Mark me with your cum."

Idia throws his head back, his hair now in full flames, teeth clenched so hard you're worried he's about to break them, "Mine. My cunt. My girl. My omega. Mine, mine, all mine!" He chants like a prayer, thrusting one final time before giving you his warm load.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your brain barely registering the sharp pain of Idia's teeth sinking into your neck.

As the aftershocks started to subside you ran your hands over Idia's shoulders, your eyes clear enough to see the renewed mark on his neck, filling you with a sense of pride and love. "Thank you. I needed this."

"What are you thanking me for?" He kissed your mating mark, then your shoulder just as gently as he whispered against your skin, "I'm your mate. I'll always be here for you when you need me. Even if it means failing a test or two."

"E-Excuse me? Failing what?" Your heat wasn't gone but your head was now clear enough for you to be at least a little bit mad at him, "Idia!"

He laughed, "It's alright." He nuzzled his nose against your throat, pressing his chest against your soft breasts, settling on top of you, "Because you're my best study buddy. Which is yet another reason why it'll be good for me to help you with this heat."

You rolled your eyes, a smile on the corner of your mouth, "You're very lucky you're both cute and extremely lovable. Otherwise I don't think I'd put up this."

"Oh?" He quirked a brow at you, "Are you sure that's all you like about me my darling?" He rolled his hips forward, his cock dragging against the front of your wall, right over your most sensitive spot. You barely swallowed down a helpless moan, much to Idia's delight, "I knew it." "You're awful." You smile against his cheek as you give him a quick peck before wrapping your hands around his neck and bringing him closer, tucking him next to your head. You're still tied by the knot so it'll be a while before either of you can go again. You're fine with that. You have Idia here, his love, his comfort, his warmth both in and out. That's all you need,

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Hi, I'm obsessed with Falling from Grace, and I'm bursting with headcanon ideas, but the main one is how they would react to a reader who suddenly became strangely docile, clinging to them (the boys separately) after sex or during sleep.

oooh love this question

thank you so so much for the love and support to the series!!! please tell me alll your headcannons

HEED ALL WARNINGS OF THE SERIES, DARK MATTERS, PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION

Joel Miller

- at first he be too blissed to notice, you slowly crawling up to him, blame it in the increasing winter cold or whatever

- he’ll wake up with you melting into his touch, his ever-there touch

- but then, when he was fucking you into the mattress and your legs wrapped around him, he snapped

- perhaps because he liked the aspect where he is punishing you, or perhaps because he can’t believe you’d actually could enjoy any part of this

- but he can’t confess to that, so he’ll just slap you and growl in your ear “What the fuck have you done?”

- As if you were actually planning something, as if this was all a rouse

- He’ll make you confess your non-existing sins some way or another, maybe another training session

Marcus Acacius

- He wouldn’t fucking let it slide the second he woke up with your arm around him in that tiny crowded bed

- But he wouldn’t think too much about it, just pushing you off, perhaps even off the bed

- And if you were truly moaning during sex, it would just make him go harder, because your breathy whines are music to his ears

- He always liked it up the ass, so when you began doing your best to stay still as he was opening you up, it would just push him to go further

- maybe, perhaps, he’ll team up with Joel, to see if they can fit both cocks inside you

- and your good behavior can only reach some limits - but he likes to see you cry, trying to scramble out of Joel’s grip as he stands between the two pairs of legs, full view of your leaking holes as he aligns himself beside Joel

Javier Peña

- He’ll definitely think it’s because of his good looks and charm

- Goodness gracious, when he tells you to ride him and you actually do it?!

- On his day, he’ll pull you up on his lap and smother kisses up your neck, watching you whimper lowly

- And if that wasn’t enough, he’ll return early from working in the camp to have you over the table, have them all watch as they find your hands laced around his nape and you actually kiss back

- They don’t need to hear the silent commands he whispers in your ear “C’mon gorgeous, give me a kiss, one more, preciosa.”

Oberyn Martell

- He’ll pretend he didn’t notice, but know something is off

- When you see him entering the threshold of his room and lift up your knees, just like he told he wanted you

- He’s mind duels on the idea of you developing Stockholm, but when you scream his name and cum on his tongue, a primal part of him pulls him to ignore that

- But then, he loves pushing your limits, see how long you can go before begging him to stop

- “I know you can give me one more baby, you squeezing the life out of my cock,” He mutters, pressing your back against the tiles. You knew the shower wasn’t over when he tuned off the water. “ t-there, you still keeping count?”

Whiskey

- It all started when he demanded you get on all fours, and you did it almost as a second nature

- Whiskey would use it to his advantage and teach you to suck cock, just the way he likes

- lot of sloppy tongue, a hand juggling his balls and the other along his shaft

- Teach you how to ride him too; cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, you name it - his thick hands holding your hips as he pressed you down deeper and deeper, calloused thumb flicking your clit

- And he’d love the way your finally slept on his chest, too entranced with the moonlit view of your closed eyes and how your lips parted against his skin

- He wouldn’t say anything, because that was the kind of intimacy he missed for so long

Dieter Bravo

- Oh he would get DELIRIOUS

- The second you weren’t begging him to stop, he already was planning on a serious chat with Joel about sharing you

- “You know man, she came on my cock after all,” He’ll brag. “moaning like a little slut, ever got that wet for you, huh?”

- That same night he’ll pull you onto his lap on the couch, ordering you to show them how you like it

- And then his face fell when you’ll just shrug, eyebrows scrunched. “I don’t get it, what do you want me to do?”

- “Don’t get all shy, show the boys how good a bitch you can be.”

- Joel, exhausted and frankly a bit jealous, would show him right there how good a bitch you could be

- and the once prestigious actor cannot handle the spot light being taken

- The humiliation he would reciprocate on you would be enough to have you pleading for mercy once again!

Frankie Morales

- oh he would feel so guilty

- he’ll know exactly why you are doing- because he is your saviour

- he’ll save you some grace, let you cuddle into him, let you look for him in times of need

- but he would be in so much pain, seeing how something so sweet as you is so heavily defiled

- but he’s human, and yearns for warmth too, perhaps in the same way you do it

[pipsqueaks89934]

please make more merman stories, i love it sm and its so hard to find merman x reader that this good

anyways don't forget to drink water to stay healthy and have a good day! <33

Thank you, I don't like the taste of water it is the lack of taste that I hate. (╥﹏╥)

Yandere Merman x Marine Biologist reader part 3

Warnings: broken ankle, Yandere stuff

You've been home for about a week or so and Wade is always near you but the good news is Wade lets you continue your Marine biology work. He sometimes helps you study and learn more about the ocean and its creatures. The only part that made you worry was when you had to talk to your boss/teacher about why you were gone for so long without a word. You ended up lying to him about being in a car wreck and being in the hospital for all the time that you missed because you ended up having a broken ankle. You have proof that since Wade did break your ankle, you did have to go to the hospital so they could fix it. Since your boss/teacher was strict you were scared that he would fire or kick you out of the course but he was understanding and gave you extra time to turn in your assignments that you missed while you were out. After he sent you what you missed you immediately got to work on the assessments because you didn't want to fall even more behind in the class than you already were but it was kind of hard to focus on anything since Wade kept bothering you and trying to get your attention.

“Guppy, why don't you come swim with me?” Wade asked with a whine as he rubbed your legs as you sat on the dock with your legs in the water while typing on your computer.

“Wade once I finish I promise I'll swim with you but I have a few more research reports that I have to finish,” you explained while trying to figure out how to answer the question. “I don't know the answer to this question!”

“I can help you with that,” Wade said with a smile as he tried to look at the computer. “What is it?”

“What is the biggest ocean animal that has ever lived,” you said while trying to think. “I don't know if he means dating back to the dinosaur period or now.”

“I would just say the blue whale and if he says it's wrong explain that you didn't understand the question,” Wade explains while rubbing your legs again. “Can you swim now?”

“Well…” you say as you get up from the dock.

“What?” Wade asked as he looked at you with confusion.

“I need to get some pictures of some underwater animals, print them out, and send them to my teacher,” you explain while you reach the door to your house. “I'm going to need your help getting them so I'm going to change into my snorkeling gear, get the underwater cameras, and re-wrap my ankle so I can swim with it.”

You waddled inside the house so you could do everything you needed to before coming back out with the cameras.

“Can you help me get in?” you asked Wade as you handed him one of the cameras.

“Of course,” he said while helping you in the water. “So what animals do you need pictures of?”

“Batfish, parrotfish, clownfish, zebra shark, and black tip shark,” you said as you got used to the water. “I was thinking that you took half the pictures and I took the other half of the pictures.”

“I'll get the pictures of the sharks while you get the pictures of the other fish since I don't want you near them,” Wade said as you too started swimming. “I'll come find you when I'm done.”

You nodded your head before you and Wade parted ways so you too could find some fish. Since your ankle was wrapped up you had a hard time swimming but since you wrapped it well it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would but it still made it hard to swim. Wade got the pictures fairly quickly and came to find you once he got them. You on the other hand didn't get any pictures in the time of almost 30 minutes. After a while, you decided to go up and get some air so you could think about ways to get the pictures. Wade found you while you were getting some air so he decided to join you.

“Hey, guppy,” Wade said as he swam up beside you. “I got those pictures you asked for.”

“Really?” you asked while looking at him in surprise. “That fast?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile as he held up the camera. “How many have you gotten?”

“None,” you said with a pout. “It's hard to swim and the fish keep swimming away from me!”

“Aw, guppy,” Wade said while hugging you. “I can help you if you want?”

“Thanks,” you said before Wade pulled away. “Let's get those pictures now.”

You both went back underwater and started looking for the fish. Once you found them Wade swam to them and got the pictures for you. Wade let you take some of the pictures of the fish but at a distance so you wouldn't scare them away. Once you got all the pictures you needed Wade helped you back to the dock near your beach house so you could take a break.

“Thanks for helping me today,” you said as Wade helped you on the dock. “It helped me out.”

“It's me who should be thanking you,” he said as he pulled himself up on the dock. “I like it when you ask me for help besides I know how you can make it up to me.”

“How?” you asked while looking at him as you stood up.

“In bed tonight but right now you should get a shower,” Wade said while following you inside the house once his tail changed into legs. “You don't want to smell like the sea do you?”

[eempyreall]

♪ 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ♪

༺ Beneath The Waters ༻

Oneshot ~ Blue Lock x Female Reader

Summary ~ As a marine biologist, you rescue an injured siren. Now, five of them are obsessed with you—and they’ll never let you go.

Featuring ~ Bachira Meguru, Chigiri Hyoma, Nagi Seishiro, Itoshi Rin, and Itoshi Sae

Extra Notes ~ Tokyo Revengers’ Version - Jujutsu Kaisen‘s Version - Oc’s Version

*I am not a marine biologist, I searched up everything that pertains to the career.

This story should only be posted under eempyreall on my tumblr, ao3, wattpad, and patreon. Report if you see it posted under anyone else but me.

l apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

|| Warning ||

You and the characters are 21+. Although I picture the reader as a black cis-gendered female, physical appearance will not be described at all.

Content within this story may not be realistic or factual.

I do not condone any of the behavior displayed within the story.

There may be dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit content, sexual content, non consensual and/or dubious consensual content, etc.

That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

The ocean always harbored a serene atmosphere at night.

Although you spent most of your days amidst the sea, working alongside your team as the waves rocked against the trawler, you couldn’t deny the tranquil ambience of sitting on shore while the stars glowed amongst the nightly blue firmament.

To clarify, you enjoy your career. Although there are different categories of work, such as laboratory and data analysis, you spend your day diving into the deep seas, collecting sea specimens, studying all the beauty the earth provides underwater, and giving your fellow biologists something to write about.

It contrasted with your lingering fear of the deeper abyss that the ocean conceals. There was always an underlying edge of caution when dealing with the intrusive thoughts that plagued your mind. You spent most of your time in reefs—the brighter, most pleasing section of the sea.

“You ready to get going?”

You shift your head towards the voice that came from your right.

Your eyes meet the dark irises of one of your teammates, a close friend of yours who studied alongside you during your growth in the marine industry. You lift yourself from the sand, pants slightly stained from the debris, as you brush your palm along your bottom.

“Nah. I’m gonna stay a little longer,” you reply, sighing as you eye the gentle waves of the sea. “You can go without me. I know that we got an early shift tomorrow.”

Riku raises a brow at you while crossing his arms. “You know that even if they’re real, you’re not gonna find anything, right?”

Ah, I’m about to get the same lecture, aren’t I?

You roll your eyes as you place your hands against your hips. “Mind your business, Riku,” you sing playfully, but with an edge of solemnity in your tone.

He hums. “I’m just saying, Y/n. You’ve looked quite exhausted the last few shifts. Your hyperfixation on mermaids is becoming a problem,” he says, his voice laced with concern and slight annoyance.

You scoff, crossing your arms as you face ahead. “First of all, the term is siren. Second of all, you don’t need to worry about me. I still get my work done.”

You miss the solemn expression that appears on his face—the familiar guise of pity that always makes you shift with discomfort.

“Look, I know more than anyone that it’s hard to heal from a family member’s death, but Y/n, you’ve got to let it go.”

The statement sent a shift through your entire body, tension stiffening you in place as the memory swirling in your brain flickered before you.

“Shit! Everyone, grab the earplugs!” the leader of your team shouts.

You immediately turn to your bag, rummaging through the contents before you snatch the cord. You shove the plugs into your ears just as the song begins. Although you can feel the vibration of the melody against your chest, the blockage of your ears keeps you safe from the siren’s frequency.

When you turn around, the relief that had rushed through you drops vehemently as your eyes flick over the five members of your team—including your brother.

Your breath hitches as you watch the color drain from his eyes, his body stiff in a trance as he faces toward the siren who peers from the waves of the sea. You can only see her multicolored eyes and the pale blue hair that’s flat against her head, the rest of her strands floating around her as she stares at the men.

You feel breathless, panting as you watch them take a step forward, in unison. A spike of fear surges through your spine as the pit in your stomach deepens. You dash toward your brother, nails digging into his shoulders as you stand in front of him, using all of your weight to keep him from jumping off of the trawler.

The splashes of the others are loud, despite the plugs blocking your ears. It only makes the lump in your throat burn as you make eye contact with your brother. As a result of the dullness filling his orbs, you know that it’s too late. He’s already gone.

But you don’t stop. You continue to press against him as the sobs escape your lips.

“Please, B/n! Please, wake up,” you weep.

The siren reaches for the first man, her claws splitting the flesh of his skin as she begins her feast, ropes of red already staining the waters as the rest of the humans swim toward her. Your head shifts to the side to see that a few more sirens have appeared, the women beginning their attacks on the men. One peers from the side, awaiting the release of your brother.

Despite his dream-like state, he is strong. He pushes against you like a stone wall. His expression is bare of any emotion as he continues to stare at the ocean, shoving against you like a non-playable character in a game.

Eventually, you can’t hold on any longer.

For a while, you couldn’t forgive yourself. Despite your first shift ending in a massacre, you couldn’t accept how weak you were against the creature’s voice.

It ached.

You sat on the trawler, weeping, until the S-O-S boat arrived. You tried to warn them, but nobody believed you. It was an unexplainable event. They kicked it under the rug, rolled it up, and burned it—as if nothing happened.

It was only you and your brother, so there was no memorial. No familial speeches from family or friends, as neither of you had any, aside from Riku, who stood by your side through it all. Still, his mind couldn’t be changed along with the rest. He only accepted your obsession through pity and nothing else.

“You can go home, Riku,” you say, a tone laced with firmness and an impending rage that you keep within wraps.

His eyes flicked over you for a moment before he exhaled sharply, guilt reaching his core. “Y/n, I’m sorry—.”

“Can you just shut the fuck up and leave?” Your eyes narrowed in his direction, fingers curling around your thumbs as you squeezed before releasing the tension.

His lips pressed into a thin line before he nodded, grabbing the keys from his pocket and turning away. “See ya tomorrow,” he says before walking off.

Another hour passes as you sit on the beach, well into midnight, watching the breeze gently push against the waves. You finally stand once more, brushing yourself off as you turn towards the pathway leading to the parking lot.

An unfamiliar sound catches your attention, along with a splash of waves that echo near you. You pause, listening for a moment as your ears search for the unknown frequency once more. Your head shifts to the right as you hear another high-pitched wail coming from the distance. It was slightly guttural, a broken hum of distress.

Before you could register your own movements, you find yourself walking towards the frantic melody. Your heartbeat thuds against your chest as you follow the noise. Your pulse throbs as you feel the hairs on your skin stand tall.

That sound… it’s not quite the same, but…

Once you reach the spot, your muscles stiffen in place, brows raising in shock.

Lying in front of you is a distressed male who holds the upper body of another. His wet black strands frame the sharp features of his facial structure as he looks down at the unmoving male. His dark eyelashes conceal his irises as a frown laces his expression.

His skin is a silk cream, and the translucent top of his ears forms into elongated tips, almost resembling skin-colored, iridescent fins. The same texture protrudes from the sides of his arms, though with a black-turquoise-hued tinge. His claws are long, gently grazing against the cheeks of the male below as he holds him against the lap of his long black tail that was laced with turquoise undertones.

The male below him matches the fish-like features, though the pigment laces a deep purple against his fins and long tail. His plum-colored hair is disheveled and wet, though flaring under his head as the siren holds him. His eyes are shut, irises concealed by his lids as he seems to be trapped within a deep slumber.

Crimson covers the side of his torso, staining the sand beneath. From the distance you stand, you fail to see the exact wound. Your brows furrow as determination sets into your core, and you turn your back to the sirens as you jog to your car.

Why do I feel the urge to help? I should just let him die.

But you know that it isn’t fair to blame them for a tragedy that occurred years ago. It isn’t fair to blame the entire species for something that’s a part of their nature.

Your search for their existence is only to prove to yourself and the others that the incident wasn’t imagined. That sirens are real and should be studied. This only motivates you for your shift tomorrow.

After you return with the first aid, you steadily make your way towards the two men, earplugs stuck in your ears as you walk closer. You can’t deny the pressure in your chest, anxiety striking you the closer you get.

Once the conscious siren noticed another presence, he shifted his gaze towards you, piercing teal irises peering through the lashes that lined his lids. You pause when you recognize the tension of his muscles, a scowl reaching his expression as a distorted melody rang from his lips.

You held your hands up in surrender, ensuring that your movements remained slow and gentle so as to not alarm the creature. A memory of the section of a passage you read during your studies of this mythological species reminded you of their ability to understand various languages, humans included. It was adapted for survival as their variety grew.

“It’s alright. I’m not here as an enemy, but as an aid,” you say, voice proper as you point towards the first aid kit in your hand. “I see that your friend is hurt. I’ve only come to help, if you’ll let me.”

He didn’t move. His gaze remained locked on you with a menacing guise. Despite the danger that radiated off of the creature, you recognized his urge to protect his loved one. It was expected.

You twist the box to face his view, unclipping the clasp as you open the lid, allowing him to observe the contents clearly. “As you can see, I mean no harm. With that amount of blood loss, your friend doesn’t have much time. Just let me help, please,” you say with a calm tone.

Why do I want to help them so bad?

Maybe his protectiveness of the unconscious being reminded you of the feelings you had during your brother’s trance. You understand what it feels like to have someone ripped away from you under circumstances you can’t control. Both sirens are vulnerable in this state. It’s clear that the teal-eyed male cares deeply for the man below him.

You watch as his eyes narrow, his expression revealing his contemplation as he stares at you with wonder. Eventually, he bowed his head to the side, nodding over to the other siren in defeat. You exhale in relief, heading over to the injured man before you kneeled beside him.

You rummaged through the box as you grabbed the necessities to dab, clean, and wrap the wound. The black-haired male watched you with caution, eyes roaming over your movements as you tended to the wound.

I never thought I’d ever be in this predicament.

But you didn’t hate it. To be able to help another aid a loved one, despite the resentment you held for the species, caused warmth to spread throughout your stomach.

The patch-up didn’t take long.

You exhaled a breath you hadn’t known you were holding in as you clipped the box shut. The torso of the siren was successfully wrapped.

“I’d advise you to stay out of the water for a little longer, just to give the bleeding time to stop,” you suggest. You already knew that sirens could stay above water for long periods of time. They could live on land if they had legs, though some studies show that very few can transform their tails.

The siren only stared at you with the same cautious look as before, though it had slightly softened. Suddenly, movement catches both of your attention as both of your eyes shift toward the man below you. The man’s eyelids flutter open as he reveals bright, teal irises that flick over to you.

You couldn’t shake the strike of anxiety that surged through your spine, heart beating against your chest as he studied you with an intense gaze. His eyes shifted downward to his wound as you began to grab the box.

I think it’s time for me to leave.

Before you can lift yourself from the ground, a clawed hand shoots to your jaw as you’re held in place. You feel shock contort amongst your expression as your body stiffened to the tight grip.

What the fuck?

The creature leaned forward, slightly flicking his wrist to observe your features with his eyes slightly squinted, as if he was analyzing data and saving it to a file in his brain.

Your hand reached for his wrist, gently lowering it as you picked yourself up from the sand.

“Um… get better,” you quickly say, turning away as you walk toward the parking lot. You cursed yourself for the lack of knowledge on what else you could’ve said, slightly embarrassed.

You could feel their gazes locked on your back as you made your way off the beach.

The next morning was uneventful, your daily routine of deep-diving into the sea stretched throughout the day. It was finally the afternoon, your team filing the samples you and Riku had just collected from the reef you are currently studying.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the sirens you had met the night before. On one hand, you wanted to inform Riku of what you had experienced, wishing you had taken a picture from your phone as proof, but on the other hand, you knew that it wouldn’t have been an appropriate time for that. You also understood that Riku would remain stubborn with his disbelief until you provide physical evidence.

It was a lost cause.

“Break’s over. Let’s get going!” your team leader yelled across the small ship.

You eye the surface of the waves, heavily pushing along the foundation of the ship while the anchor holds you all in place. The sky is a bright blue, clouds streaking across the firmament as the sun shines a bright yellow. It’s a beautiful day, and yet, you couldn’t rid yourself of the pit that formed in your chest.

“Hey, Y/n. I still want to let you know that I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. You were right that it’s none of my business,” Riku said as he prepared the scuba gear on his form.

You followed along, chuckling in response as you placed the mask over your face. “I know. It’s whatever,” you say before patting him on the back. “We’re good.”

He nodded as he placed the snorkel in his mouth, slightly smiling in return before he hopped into the water. Shortly after, you followed his form as you dived into the ocean.

Your arms swayed against the pressure of the water as you peered through the goggles. You swam towards the opposite direction of Riku, aiming for the area that you were assigned to.

Moments later, you reached the colorful section of the reef, passing by various types of fish and sea creatures, some of which you found fascinating to observe. Once you reached the species of fish you were focused on for the shift, you connected a biologging sensor to the animal so that the laboratory could collect data on the behavior and whereabouts of the creature without hurting it.

During your session of tracking the correct species, a familiar sound echoed throughout the vicinity as your body floats. When your head turns in the direction of the noise, a swift force circled around your figure, startling you in the process as the bubbles of the water lined your vision.

Once it all settles, your eyes widen behind the goggles as you stare at the male siren in front of you.

His features aren’t far from the fins you had seen attached to the sirens during the previous evening. The translucent hue is tinged with a bright yellow, along with the elongated tail that curled around your form as he observed you. His dark locks flared above his neck, yellow undertones prominent as his bangs framed his sharp features.

As he studied you with golden orbs shifting over your form, his head tilted in recognition before a smile curled on his expression, revealing his sharp teeth. If you hadn’t studied the body language of sirens for so long, you would’ve thought you were going to be his next meal. He merely looked curious until he gave you a knowing glance.

Suddenly, you jolted as he released a loud frequency through his lips.

You listened as the rush of water appeared from your sides, head shifting left and right as you searched for the source.

Suddenly, you feel a hand grip your arm as you’re tugged to the side, your eyes shifting over to the new male who appeared.

Another male with similar fish-like features as the former siren came into view. His color scheme is a silky white, iridescent fins tinged with the hue as his claws wrapped around your arm. His platinum strands flowed around his head, his bangs framing his face. His white tail curled against the pressure of the water.

His lids are a natural slant, gray irises shifting over you with a lazy look plastered on his expression. Your brows raise in confusion at the ambush. Before you can yank your arm out of his grip, you felt a constriction against your opposite arm as another male appeared on the other side of your form.

You face the third siren, a man with long, red strands that flare amongst the water. The edge of his fins are laced with a bright green hue, the scales of his elongated tail matching the color scheme.

His eyes flicked over you with a studious expression, lips falling apart as an unsettling, melodic frequency echoed from his mouth, revealing his razor sharp teeth.

Your breath hitches as you’re pulled forward, the force abrupt as the water rushes past you. The two men gripping your arms follow behind the yellow-tailed siren as they make their way through the depths of the ocean, leading you deeper.

What the fuck? Where are they taking me?

You hoped that they wouldn’t travel deep enough for your lungs to compress. Despite your attempts to escape, their claws grazed your skin as their fingers curled tightly around you.

Suddenly, you noticed the lowered percentage of your oxygen tank, eyes widening as you realized you had strayed underwater for far too long. You begin to thrash in their hold, your movements more desperate than before.

Finally, the sirens stop in place, turning their attention to you with a mixture of confusion and annoyance on their expressions. You quickly gesture toward your tank and make a breathing motion before pointing upward.

They pause for a moment, giving each other a quick glance before releasing your arms. You hold your hands up in surrender before swimming upwards, rushing to the surface in a desperate attempt to make it before your oxygen runs out.

Once you made it back to the surface, water splashed around you as you broke through the waves, reaching for the strap that connected you to the ship and pulling yourself onto the platform. Your chest heaves as you fumble with the straps of the mask, yanking it off as you pant.

“Y/n? What the hell happened? You were under for so long I almost came to find you!” Riku exclaimed, rushing toward you as he grabbed the equipment from your hands to help you out of your gear.

You only continue to ease your breathing as the memories of what just occurred swirled through your mind. You couldn’t concentrate on Riku’s muffled words. Your vision is slightly distorted, a sudden dizziness causing your body to feel heavy as your head shifts toward the ocean.

Your thoughts morphed into jumbled words as darkness reached your vision, engulfing you into the void that tugs at your consciousness.

You felt the breeze kiss against your skin as your eyelashes fluttered open. The rays of the sun shine bright over you, the warmth engulfing your skin. As you slowly pull your upper body up from the ground, you could feel the sand sticking to your arms and legs. As you lean forward, your eyes perk, startled as you notice the men sitting around your figure.

What are they doing here? What am I even doing here? Wasn’t I on the ship?

You blinked as you noticed Sae sitting beside you, legs replacing the tail that once was there. His arm rested over a propped knee as his bare feet pressed against the sand, shorts concealing his lower region.

Wait… did I just identify his name? How do I even know it?

You look around, seeing the men sitting around you. Meguru sat on your right in the same position as Sae, though with shorts that matched the yellow tail he once had. You eyed the back of Rin’s head, black hair waving against the wind as he stared ahead, sitting in front of you, black shorts covering his bottom.

Your brows furrowed as you twisted yourself around, eyeing both Seishiro and Hyoma who sat behind you, though with their legs stretched out and ankles crossed, leaning on the back of their palms as they didn’t even spare a glance.

What the fuck is going on? Why do I know all of their names?

Your heart begins to race as you try to make sense of the situation. Something feels wrong.

This… this doesn’t feel real.

“Did you know that soulmates can feel a pull towards each other, even when they’re miles apart?” Sae’s calm voice cuts through the silence before you turn your attention to him.

You feel puzzled by his statement. “Soulmates?” you question, confusion lacing your tone.

You couldn’t see it, but as you walked away from the injured siren and his brother, a long, red thread protruded from your back as it connected you to the men’s chests, splitting at the end as the sirens eyed the fabric.

“It’s her. She’s the fated sixth.”

The male turned his head slightly, facing you with a stoic expression. “You can swim all you want, but the tide will always pull you along, no matter how hard you try to fight it.”

Suddenly, a rush of water fills your lungs as your eyes widen, your reality shifting underwater as the depths of the ocean carry you along. Your mask is vacant, along with the oxygen tank that was yanked off of you.

You couldn’t breathe. Your mouth was forced open by the pressure of the water as if it was filling your body. You gasped, suffocating as you thrashed against the surface.

Riku was in front of you, reaching for you with terror drawn over his expression. But then you notice the crimson tendrils that float around him, lowering your gaze amidst the chaos of your erratic motion as you yelp, his lower body completely detached from his torso. He was split from the middle, nothing but a gaping, fleshy hole, his insides floating.

As your vision begins to blur, you realize that you never escaped the ocean. You never even had a chance.

Glowing eyes settle around you as the sirens circle your form, the threads constricting any movement as you float in the middle of the formation. A light glows from the bottom of the sea, spreading throughout the vicinity as it engulfs your dying form.

Pressure forces your legs to press together, contorting your limbs into an unnatural formation as you twist and turn against the threads. Pain erupted throughout your body as you released a guttural scream from the agony shooting through your lower half.

Eventually, you couldn’t feel your legs as you normally would. They stretched until scales covered the skin, a multicolored hue forming as a long tail emerged from your body. You could feel your arms and ears shifting, fins protruding from your skin, matching the color of your tail.

You didn’t have time to feel the disbelief, shock, or devastation as the familiar void tugs at your essence.

—𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎.

—𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚕𝚞𝚍𝚎𝚍 (𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜)

wc: 1375

You sit up in bed, breathing ragged as you hold a hand to your chest. Your lips are apart as the sweat beads along the lining of your forehead. You quickly pat the palms of your hands against your neck and torso as you ensure that you’re alive and physically apparent.

The lowering sun gleams through the crack of the curtains as it shines over the bedroom. You snatch the covers from your lower half, examining your legs as you curl your toes for reassurance. You exhale a slow breath as you fall back onto your pillow in relief.

[selcouthself]

My dear Holmes,  You never showed up, and now, after reading the newspapers, I understand why. I don't imagine you will receive this letter but I, nonetheless, must send it.  Holmes...oh, Holmes... I was just starting to dream the softest and silliest of dreams... I miss you. And I will always miss you. But I cannot live like that, and it seems you cannot live any other way.  When I'm with you, the world makes sense. But when we are apart, I see clearly that your world is a world from which one cannot escape.  There is a good man within you, Holmes, but he is wrestling with a giant. And the giant wins, time and again.  You've broken my heart again, and I fear I have broken yours. For that, I will never forgive myself, but you must let me go now. I enclose a silver cigarette-case you gave me many years ago, when we were both young, not because I don’t like it, but because I care for it too much and it reminds me too much of you. I hope you will find some use for it as it kept me thinking of you all these years, and I hope by returning it to you, I can finally be free.  Goodbye,   John Watson   P.S. Please excuse my not mailing this letter--I do not know your new address.