#it’s not perfect but it will more than do!!!!!

[sayangrafayel]

LADS react to you asking them to set you up with someone else

This was a fun request. I might slip some dynamic duo rivalry here.. hmm.. maybe this is the same universe as loft talk. This is pre relationship prank!

Sylus, Xavier, Rafayel, Zayne, Caleb.

Sylus (Rafayel)

"Hey, Sy. Can you set me up with one of your roommates?" "I don't have roommates." "? What do you mean. You have four roommates. I want the artist!" "No I absolutely do not. What artist?"

Would NEVER let you meet Rafayel, no matter what it takes. Rarely ever bring you back to the loft anymore.

Considered moving out of the loft and everything but stopped once you tell him it's a prank.

Xavier (Jeremiah)

"Xavie, is Jeremiah seeing anyone?" "I don't know a Jerry." "Jeremiah." "I don't know who that is either."

He gets SOOOO jealous (that's why we like him)

Why would you ask him to set you up with someone else. He's right there. He's perfect for you in every way. 🥺🥺🥺 - Xavier, probably

Rafayel (Sylus)

"Can you set me up with one of your friends?" "I don't have friends." "Yes you do! That Fruit guy breathtaking!" "You know what else is breathtaking? If I were to hold his head underwater." "Sorry?" "I said I am also breathtaking!"

He fish. Fish forgor stuff. Roommate? Who? Sylus? Thomas? Who???? What are you talking about?

Becomes extra mean to Sylus the next day and Sylus was so confused as to why is his bestfriend who is not his bestfriend seems to hate him more than usual!?

Zayne (Greyson)

"Dr. Zayne, can you set me up with Greyson?" "Why?" "Because.. I want to?" "His name is Doctor Greyson, and do you really want to..?" "Yes please! Set me up with Dr. Greyson!" "...." "Zayne?" "If that's what you want."

I don't think he's gonna try to stop you nor does he realize you're testing the waters to see how he feels about you, defeatedly gives Greyson your number, but Greyson was so confused because why would he hit up Zayne's girlfriend???

"She's your girl, Zayne." "She is not." "Yes she is, she's just testing to see how you'd react, dummy. Now go and actually ask her out."

Caleb (Gideon)

Before you start pranking him, you prayed for Gideon's safety.

"Caleb, can you set me up with-" "He's gay." "I haven't even said a name!" "Yeah, everybody around me is gay. I'm their ally." "Caleb!!!"

He'd frown and keep telling you why would you need anybody else when you can have HIM. He's the one who knows you the best! He knows how to make you smile! He's 100% your boyfriend material! 😤

[vxlvted]

pussy drunk!bang chan

pussy drunk!chan who is absolutely addicted to you. the moment he gets a taste, it’s over for him. he would start all slow and controlled, wanting to savor your reactions. but the second you moan his name or tug at his curls, his self control shatter.

he’s sloppy with it, getting so into it, he doesn’t care about how messy he gets. lips and chin completely covered but he loves it. he practically drowns himself between your thighs, gripping them so tightly as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away.

he gets lost in you, moaning against your skin, eyes fluttering shut. when eventually pulls away for air, his voice is breathless, pupils blown wide. “You taste so fucking good, baby” he groans before diving back in like he’s starved.

he’s always talking between kisses, between long strokes of his tongue. whispering how much he loves this, how good you are for him, how he never wants to stops. when you pull his hair or grind against his face—his nose rubbing hard your clit—he whimpers, low and desperate like he’s the one being ruined.

if you try to push him away when it gets too much, he won’t budge. his arms will lock around your thighs, keeping you there as he murmurs “Just one more, baby…. just one more for me.” but it’s never just one more. once isn’t enough. twice isn’t enough. he could spend the entire night between your thighs and still wants more. he’ll kiss his way back up your body, his lips swollen and voice husky and plead, “again?”

he gets smug when your legs start to shake. he open his eyes briefly to watch as you grab at the sheets, his shoulders, your pillow, at anything you can. he loves watching you fall apart for him, because of him. “That’s it, let me hear you.”

and there’s no way he isn’t turned on while doing this. he gets hard from just eating you out. if he has you on your back, he’s grinding into the mattress, into the sheets. if he’s got you sitting on his face, he’s rutting up into nothing, only feeling the slight shift of his sweatpants when his hips thrust upwards. sometimes, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until he gets embarrassingly close.

If you ever just grab his hair and hold him there, he’s a goner. his moans get louder. vibrating against your folds. I’m a firm believer in Chan being a pleasure dom. he loves making you feel good, that includes you using him for your pleasure.

I’m also a firm believer in Chan having a praise kink. I feel like he’d rather be praised than degraded. the second you call him good—your good boy, good baby—he loses it. gripping your thighs even harder, pulling you closer and working his tongue even faster to make you come undone. He lives for your praise, and he’ll do anything to earn it.

once he’s finally had enough, he’s pressing soft kissing into your thighs, rubbing soothing circles into your skin as you slow your breathing. he’d be so gentle afterwards, holding you close and whispering how perfect you are, how much he loves you. and if you let him, he’s falling asleep with his head still inbetween your thighs, completely spent but happy.

Taglist:

If you’d like to be put on (or taken off) the taglist, feel free to let me know!

@yaorzu-blog

dividers from @/saradika-graphics

[ds-angel1]

dealer!rafe x brainwashed!reader

cw: mention of SMUT(18+), drugs and pills, rafe lowkey runs her life (and i need that(so so bad))

a/n: drabble that i literally got from a dream (if anyone has done something like this before and i´ve just forgotten, credits to them(can never trust my dreams))

Dealer!Rafe didn’t meant to keep you. Not at first at least.

The first time he saw you, it was supposed to be nothing. Another night, another party, another girl too pretty for her good. Your denim shorts rode too high on your thighs, a spaghetti strap slipping from your shoulder like an invitation, and you looked at him like you knew exactly what you were doing. Like you had the slightest clue.

You didn’t.

He figured you’d be an easy score, a quick sell, a quicker fuck, someone to forget by morning. But then you pushed through the crowd, all honeyed laughter and half-lidded eyes, and asked him what he had. Not shy, not hesitant, but like you belonged in this world like you’d done this before.

Like you already belonged to him.

He should’ve known then. Should’ve clocked the way his pulse jumped when your fingers brushed his palm, the way his breath caught when you bit your lip, pupils already blown wide. But it wasn’t until you tossed back the pills without a second thought, no caution, no questions, that he realized what you were. Perfect.

It was a game. A pretty girl with a reckless streak, someone eager and pliant beneath him, high off whatever he fed you. But then he started learning things. About the mess you called home, the way you barely scraped by. How you were always searching, always aching for something just out of reach.

That’s when the idea took root.

Rafe could take care of you. Fix you. Own you.

So he reeled you in, slow and deliberate. He made sure you only bought from him, made sure the come-downs hit just hard enough that you came back, eyes wide and desperate. And when you started spending more time in his bed than your own, when your things started showing up at his place, one shirt, then a toothbrush, then a drawer full of clothes, you never even realized it was happening.

Until it was too late.

Until you needed him.

The day you moved in, there was no discussion, no formal agreement. Just a slow suffocation disguised as safety. He watched as you set your bags down, as your fate sealed itself with the quiet click of the door shutting behind you.

That’s when the rules became clear.

"Act up, and you get nothing," he told you, voice smooth, patient. Like he was doing you a favor. "No, ‘m serious, baby. You wanna misbehave? Then no blow. No pills. Nothin’."

And it worked.

Because when you were good, when you melted for him, hazy and pliant, when your lips parted on soft, gasping pleas when you stared up at him so far gone you barely remembered your name. Letting him do whatever his sick mind desired.

He controlled everything about you. Well he called it “takin’ care of my sweet girl.” He chose what you ate, what you wore, where you went. His own little doll.

He’d won. You were his and followed his every order, and he fucking loved it. He could turn you into a pliant free use puddle with only a few pills and puffs of whatever shit he was smoking, letting him fuck you so hard you were either almost sober or almost seizing.

Sure, your quality of life had declined rapidly since you’d met your so called “savour”, but you had structure and you had “love”. A sick, twisted, manipulative version of it, but when you were high off your mind and half naked in his bed you were able to convince yourself it was love.

[beloveds-embrace]

(Omegaverse poly 141 x designationless reader)

You learned sometime on that, while your team may not think much about your lack of a designation, they still react to things on instinct.

And those instincts? They’re ridiculously easy to manipulate.

Take Ghost, for example. Big, intimidating Alpha. Stoic, unreadable, all sharp angles and careful control. But bump into him just right- tilt your head like you’re subconsciously presenting your throat, slow blinking at him- and suddenly he’s there, steadying you, holding you in place with a grip that lingers just a little too long.

Or Gaz who can’t stand the sight of someone looking even remotely cold. It takes nothing- nothing- to get him to bundle you up in blankets, to press close for warmth without a second thought.

Johnny is the easiest of them all, though. He’s naturally affectionate, eager to touch, to tug you into his space. All you have to do is sigh, maybe rub at your temples like you’re exhausted, and he’s pulling you into a hug before you can blink.

And then there’s John. Your captain, your steady anchor. He pretends he’s immune to your antics, but you know better. Let your shoulders slump, let yourself look just a little too small (irrelevant of your height), and suddenly he’s standing closer, touching the back of your neck, rubbing slow circles against your skin like he’s scenting you even though there’s nothing there to mark.

They can’t help it. It’s instinct.

So, really, is it your fault if you use that to your advantage?

It’s been a long mission.

Your muscles ache, your head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton, and all you want is warmth and comfort.

So you get to work.

You start with Johnny, because he’s the easiest mark. You drop onto the nest beside him with a heavy sigh, letting yourself slump dramatically against his shoulder, against the warmth of his bulk.

“Johnny,” you mumble, voice thick with exhaustion. A little whine, barely there. “I’m so tired.”

It takes less than a second for him to react.

“Aw, c’mere then, hen.” He says immediately, already shifting, pulling you into his side with an arm slung around your waist until you are comfy and cozy against him.

You don’t even try to hide your grin.

Kyle is next. He sees you curled up against Johnny, eyes drooping, a little shiver flowing up your spine, and immediately starts fussing.

“You’re cold.” He says, already grabbing a soft, thick blanket. He drapes it over you before you can protest, tucking it around your shoulders with a soft tsk and then kissing your forehead.

Perfect.

Simon is a little harder, but you know what works.

You shift, stretching just enough that your neck is exposed, turning toward him when he enters the room slightly as if expecting him to slot into place beside you.

And oh, he does.

He doesn’t say anything, just moves, settling on your other side with a quiet sigh, his presence solid and warm. One big hand lands on your thigh, not gripping, just holding, like he needs to feel you there. You can feel his satisfied grumble when you relax further more than you can actually hear it.

Last is John.

You crack one eye open, watching him linger near the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

You sigh again, softer this time, and let your eyes flutter closed, tilting your head just enough to bare the curve of your throat to him, as well.

There’s a beat of hesitation.

Then-

The nest dips as Price joins the pile, one large hand cupping the back of your head, his chest broad and solid as you nuzzle against him, all of the other three making space for him yet sticking close regardless.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” he murmurs.

You smile against his shoulder. “And yet, here you are.” Sleepily, you mumble.

Price just chuffs, low and warm, and you smile stretches wider in return, eyes fluttering shut while your body turns fully pliant under their care.

You’ve won.

Omegaverse Masterlist

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're No Good

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

Summary - You have been promised to marry the psychotic, human hating leader of the Geto Clan, Suguru. Your heart sinks at the wedding when you realize you're likely to be ended once you've fulfilled your duty, giving him an heir. He detests you on sight, as do you, but something happens the first time you lay together, Suguru swears you're some witch, because he can't get enough of you. He becomes consumed with fucking you, with the excuse of 'having an heir' but you begin to wonder just where the lines are blurring. Would you survive this- and will Suguru survive being with you?

CW- Arranged marriage trope, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, psychotic Geto lol- lots of hate sex, Suguru calling you a stupid monkey, angsty, FULL of smut. Reader is a virgin bc she's sheltered due to been promised to him. Reader is FEISTY asf and mean right back. Explicit sex and Geto being whipped/insane/obsessed and psycho. This part- Heavy angst, hate sex, cum licking, oral (m and f recieiving) choking, smacking, say hi to Gojo, toxic relationship. WC this part- 6.5k

Will be six parts <3 Plz share/comment/ like if you enjoy!

<<<Part Two - Playlist - Masterlist - Part four (soon)

Part Three

“Fuck…” Suguru’s moaning as he’s filling you, and it’s just too much, too intimate, his silken long locks falling against your skin, his lips hovering over yours, one of your legs wrapped on his hip.

“Fuck you…” Is what you mutter back, as his cock fills you, hitting every damn spot all at once, you’re soaking him, hands gripping the blankets, trying to avoid that desire to grip him instead.

“You love it, don’t you?” You shake your head and he chuckles, slipping his hand down your tummy to toy with your clit, pressing it in circles, making you cum so damn easily. “No?”

“Who c-cares- mnh!” You’re screaming out as he overstimulates you, those lazy lidded violet eyes devouring your face, your nails grip his back on instinct, making him hiss in pleasure.

“Fuck.” He huffs again, as he feels your walls, so slick and tight, pulsating all around his veiny length. “Feel perfect-” He pauses himself, as you gasp, he’s burying his face in your neck again, fucking into you deeper and harder now, taking over all your senses while he hides his feelings.

That he’s obsessed with you should be obvious, it is obvious to fucking anyone besides you, clearly. You haven’t noticed the way he’s non stop in your presence, even as there’s a knocking on his door now, he scowls over at it, you release your nails and he glares at you.

“Put them back.” You scowl right back.

“You’re needed M-Master Geto- oh! Ah!” He’s slamming his cock deeper, using one arm to balance, as the other grabs you by your throat.

“Put them back, now. Are the sheets fucking you?”

“I like them better than y-you.”

“Annoying fucking brat…” He grumbles, shoving his cock so deep as the door knocks again. “What is it!?”

“Plans for Kiyoto, Lord Geto. We have been waiting for an hour.”

“I’m not done yet.” The wet sounds of his cock splitting you in half fill his chambers, as he chokes you harder, looking as you lose oxygen, big hand taking your pretty little neck more and more. “I’ll come later.”

“Kiyoto?” You murmur, and he squeezes harder, slamming his cock even deeper as the bed creaks with the force.

“You can still speak?” He raises an arrogant brow, you’re helpless as the fuzziness of him choking you makes you feel like you’re floating as he slams his cock so deep, tip pressing into your spongy cervix, you pulse all around him screaming silently in pleasure. “There, shut your stupid mouth.”

Suguru releases your throat, slamming his lips on yours, and you’re too weak to fight it, you let him kiss you, clinging to him desperately, and letting go for just one blissful moment. Where you inhale the scent of the sex filling the room, where you feel his taste buds on your tongue, and your tongue moves back, earning his soft little whimper that he hides.

You wish you could let go.

But how do you let go with a monster?

Suguru’s big hand comes to your thigh now, gripping it and shoving impossibly deeper as you whine out, your hips rolling for more. If there is ever a time the two of you aren’t declaring your hate or scowling, it’s when he’s fucking you into that bed, deeper and deeper, kissing you like he could love you. A mix of hatred, desire, and more and more feelings you both suffocate.

A month married to him, in his bed constantly, in whatever position he had you in, last night you’d been on top of him, as he’d laughed while you tried to ride him, but when you’d rolled your hips a certain way, you got that look. The look of whatever real Suguru Geto is inside of this shell, you got a glimpse of his tenderness when he came inside you.

Even now, it doesn’t feel all like hate, not when he slows, and he parts his lips, murmuring something that sounded like beautiful, but when you ever looked at him, asked him what he whispered, he’d shut down and flip you. He’d fuck you harder until you couldn’t remember whatever tender words may have spilled from lips that only produce hate.

You gasp now, looking up at him, when he entwines a hand in yours, it’s too much pressure in your tummy, it’s too intimate really, he shouldn’t fucking do this, and he knows it. “D-don’t…”

“Don’t hold your hand, but I can cum in you?” He whispers back, and you gulp now, nodding, while he shakes his head. “Rather me choke you again?”

“Yes.” He scoffs, slamming his lips back down again, rhythm slowing. “Stop kissing me, fuck…”

“No.” You turn your face and he exhales, biting your throat now, sinking fully in and throbbing inside you. “Fucking brat, I swear.”

“Shut up and finish- mnh!” Suguru leans up and shoves you in that mating press now, looking down at you as his hair falls loose and silky and long, brushing the backs of your thighs.

“Need my cum so bad, pathetic girl?”

“Monkey.” You finish, and he pauses, it’s been weeks since he’s said it during sex to you, shit a week since he said it at all. Any time someone else said it he’d end them, so people don’t talk that way anymore.

But the irony is it’s his creation, calling others that.

“You only shut up when I lick you, even dick apparently doesn’t work.” You flush at that, and he’s spitting down between your thighs now, obscene as he does it, running that rough thumb on your clit again as you scream out. “There we go, you can’t help yourself, feels too good.”

“Hate you. Hate you.” You’re whispering even as you shatter, milking his cock so that he cums right with you, groaning out loud, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Perfect little cunt, fuck…” He’s whispering, as he watches the creamy stripes already oozing from your little hole, moaning as he sees it, releasing your thighs. “You took so much, but you’re just pushing it all out.”

“There’s enough cum, you cum so much, ugh.” You grumble, voice breathy as he chuckles so cruelly, finally pulling out of you, dripping with your slick and his seed, sticky and glistening.

“Clean it up then.” He gets on his back now, yanking you until you’re on his face, you gasp then.

“Suguru…”

“Fuck…” He’s parting your drooling lips as you brace yourself on either side of him, feeling the tip of his tongue flick on your overstimulated clit. “Saying my name? Are you only sweet when I eat you out?”

“Shut it.” You lap at his sticky tip, he jerks in your hand, still mostly hard as he’s moaning against you, making you drip out more of his cum right on his lips, mixed with how slick you are.

“Pretty pussy so beat up.”

“Pretty, hmm?” You are met with him shoving up his cock deep, as you suck as much as you can of him, you’ve sucked him a few times now, times when you can’t help yourself.

You love to.

But you don’t want him having the satisfaction.

Though you’ve never done… this, sitting on his face while he laps you up, his huge hands on your hips, while his tongue scoops the cum pouring, only making you closer again. Your eyes roll back as you suck him deeper, losing yourself in the sensations again, it's hard to remember when his tongue devours you that he’s a mass murderer who ‘hates you’.

“Suguru…” You’re pulling back for a moment, pulling away as he flicks your clit again and again, hot breath right on your core, and he glares, yanking you back.

“Don’t run, now, let me get her ready for me again.” You just whine, pathetically, shaking your head.

“M’gonna cum-”

“Cum, then. Now.” You sure won’t be taking his orders, but he sucks your tiny clit in his mouth, shoving his cock up with a thrust of his hips, and you are cumming, just like he fucking said. Your thighs shake on either side of his pretty face, as he licks you clean, his own cock fully hard and ready again in your throat. “Finally being good?”

“Mmm, never…” He laughs at you, tapping your hips as you shakily get off him, just to yank you on top, sliding his length between your puffy lips. Your hands brace on his chest, your flushed face so gorgeous he can’t think for a moment. “Must we… so frequently? Shouldn’t I take a test?”

Suguru pauses then.

“And if you are, will you stop your duties as my wife?” He asks, while you grind on him, and you’re exhaling, trying to focus.

“What’s Kyoto?”

“Jesus… just fuck me, don’t talk.”

“That’s all we do!”

“That’s all I enjoy to do with you, it’s the only time you’re not a mean little bitch.” You glare now, leaning back and slapping his cheek, he slaps you right back, while he drags you on his cock, and you scream in pleasure, tits right in his face bouncing with the motion. “There you go, can’t help yourself.”

“Hate you… what the…” He slaps your tits now, as you whine out in pleasure, he leans up to suck one in his mouth, moaning, cheeks hollowed as he does. “Tell me nothing, hmm?”

“It’s an attack, okay? Will you focus on riding dick, your technique is pathetic.” You scowl again, rolling your hips just so and grinding with him bottomed out, smirking as you elicit a whimper.

“Whining like a little bitch, the almighty Lord Geto.”

“God I hate you.” He whispers, pulling you by your hair and kissing you again, so brutal and bruising while he shoves his cock up inside you, skin sweaty and slick from the two of you.

“Attack for what?” You whisper, close to cumming again.

“A thousand curses, will take out every non-sorcerer… f-fuck you feel so… mmm… and anyone who stops me.” You pause at that, unmoving, looking at him in horror now.

“What!?” You earn his scowl, he flips you on the other side of the bed, on top again, a hand on your mouth, as you yank at it.

“I’m killing everyone in that city that’s human. Don’t worry, you’ll be safe, you’re with me.” Your parents live in Kyoto, he doesn’t even let you argue, sinking deeper, shaking his head.

“My parents-”

“Your parents, my parents, baby they’re all gonna die soon.” You’re in horror and shock as the door knocks again, and Suguru rolls violet eyes. “I said I’m busy!”

“Satoru Gojo is here, Lord Geto. You may want to… see this.” Suguru freezes over you.

“You’re gonna kill our parents!? Everyone!? Really!”

“Have I ever made it a secret?” He scoffs, pulling out of you and making you flush in embarrassment as he looks at your body. “I said I’d make an exception, why is that not enough? What more must I constantly do?”

“I don’t know- not be a murderer psycho!?” He’s scowling again as he gets dressed, and you hastily follow.

“I’ll be out there in just a moment.” He says gruffly and you’re following him out, earning him constantly glaring back at you. “I’ll knock you out with a sleeping curse if you don’t stop.”

“Thought I was supposed to go everywhere with you, as your wife, hmm?” His jaw locks as you two step outside, the brightness blinding for just a moment, as several of Suguru’s cult members are ready to fight Gojo, who’s just smirking, turning his attention to the two of you then.

“You paid me a visit, figured I’d return the favor buddy.” Satoru says with a big grin, and Suguru smirks so damn evil, while Satoru eyes you behind the veil of white thin material, face softening a bit. “Who’s the pretty girl, and why is she near you?”

“My wife, okay?” Satoru pauses, while Suguru steps closer, crossing his arms under his wide robes. “What’s it to you?”

Satoru pulls up his white wrapped blindfold, one cerulean eye meeting yours, swirling storms that you could never forget, looking back at Suguru, glossy lips turning up in a smirk. Suguru scowls right at him, when Satoru puts his hands in the pockets of his dark blue pants, tilting his silvery locks as he steps just a bit closer, his shoes glinting under the light with each step.

“A non-curse user married to the infamous Suguru Geto.” Gojo whistles now, walking closer until he’s right in front of you.

“Arranged marriage.” Suguru says, making you tense, feeling sick to your stomach, sure you know it’s true, but…

Perhaps you thought you were a little more?

“Ah, need me to take her off your hands?” Satoru taunts, grinning as he puts his blindfold back on, and you watch Suguru stiffen, before he glares.

“The fuck you say?”

“You hate humans, I’ll take her with me. Sure she’d prefer that over certain death, hmm?”

“You won’t take her any fucking where.”

“Why, it’s forced, right?” Satoru’s lilting voice was laced with sarcasm, as he looks right through Suguru, the way you do, the way Shoko had so casually the day he last saw her, the way only people…

People he loved did.

Fuck he can’t, he doesn’t, but as Satoru brushes your hair back gently and you eye him curiously, he grips one of Satoru’s wrists tightly, and he can feel the goddamn gaze behind that blindfold. Knowing, still caring somehow, though Suguru doesn’t deserve his care, nor does he deserve you.

If he loved you enough, he’d let you run the fuck away with Satoru, perhaps he could keep you safe, from the monster Suguru had become.

But he can’t stand the thought of you gone.

“Is it because she’s pregnant?”

“What!?” Suguru demands, and he lifts his blindfold again, eyeing you with those powerful six eyes that everyone knows the Gojo heir has, as you touch your tummy, looking at Satoru in shock.

“It’s brand new, won’t even show up on a test, but you are.” Satoru’s voice is just a little soft, you could feel how he felt horrible for you, but also you could still feel the love he had for his former best friend.

“You can see?” You murmur softly, as Suguru’s lips are parted.

“I can see a lot. I see you care about her, hmm?”

“You need to leave, to prepare for when I come.”

“Suguru!” His name on your lips makes him pause, as you look at him with tears now. “You can’t do it.”

“Oh I can’t hmm?” Suguru’s struggling to remember his motives, all he can think of is that there’s a fucking baby in you already.

“You can’t do this, what life will this baby even have?”

“A better one, when the scum is off this earth.”

“Including her?” Satoru says now, and Suguru’s jaw locks, violet eyes narrowed with his lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, the wind starts whipping around the three of you, as you feel Satoru’s immense energy. It’s far surpassing Suguru’s, intense to withhold as it surrounds him. “If you hate humans, you hate her.”

“That’s… she’s mine.”

“Your human?”

“She’s my…” He stands in front of you now, as Satoru grins, chuckling just a bit. “She’s my wife and has my heir, she won’t leave my fucking sight.”

Suguru never wants you to leave him, the thought makes his heart clench with fear, his very energy shifting, and Satoru picks up on it. “Oh so you’ll just kill her once she has your heir?”

“No I…”

“Why not, care about someone again?” Suguru bristles at that, at his friend seeing everything with one glance, Satoru has always been that way.

“So perceptive now, are you?”

Satoru’s jaw locks. “Now, yes, and you are blinded, can’t even see what’s here for you, can you?”

“Satoru fuckin leave, go prepare now because I sure the fuck am coming prepared to kill everyone in that city, including you.” Suguru stomps away, as Satoru sighs, stepping closer to you.

“Are you alright here?” He murmurs, you nod then, carefully. “I can get you out of here.”

“You what?” You blink just a bit, and Suguru is shouting your name, glaring at the two of you.

“You love him too, don’t you?” Satoru’s question makes you question yourself, your own heart, things you’re trying to shove back, to avoid. But it’s as if Satoru knows you better than yourself and almost like you can feel the love he himself has, the care radiating under his powerful energy.

“No! God no…” You falter, and Satoru exhales, brushing the backs of his fingers across your cheek, and you feel Suguru summon a curse right around you, making you gasp.

“Back the fuck off.” Suguru speaks through gritted teeth, Satoru just smirks, waving off Suguru’s curse like it’s nothing.

“You see them.”

“Yes, I can, some… family trait.” You murmur softly.

“Hmm, interesting. I can still take you away, just say the word.”

You hate Suguru.

Suguru is a psycho murderer.

Right?

“Or…”

“Or?” Suguru’s now got his people around him, his cult, his minions, making you sick as they gather, as if they’re putting a dent in Satoru Gojo.

“Or… you try to stop him.”

“Me!? He fucking hates me, he thinks-”

“Nah. He certainly doesn’t hate you, in fact… maybe only you can get through to him.” He rubs the back of his neck, as Suguru and his group start stepping forward. “I’ve tried, I’m… fucking tired.”

“If you don’t get through, how can I?” Your voice is hoarse, Satoru leans down a bit, voice dropping to a murmur.

“He feels something. Try to… just buy me some time could you?” You gulp now, as you touch your stomach again.

“I’ll try, Gojo.” He smiles at you then, the smile you remember has changed he's… sadder now.

“You have something on here…” He brushes long fingers against your neck, making you tremble a bit at the contact, then blush. You'd only been with Suguru and it wasn't either of your choices, so you wonder if it's just … someone else touching you? Or if it's his intense energy, but soon you notice a little piece of paper that he's placed there. “In case you need me.”

You nod, tucking it in your robes. “Thank you…”

“Good luck with… all of it.”  He disappears with one more sad look at Suguru, who's now scowling as he walks over to you. “Go to your room until I say you can leave.”

“What!?”

“Now you’ll be seen as a weakness.” He says, in disgust at the thought, looking at you furiously.

“Why, when you don’t care?” Your words make him furious, how can you not know what he feels?

“I do care, that’s the problem.”

“Oh, I’m a problem!?”

“Go. Now.” You shake your head at him, and he grabs you by your chin, squeezing it tightly. “Go to your room for the rest of the night, I will not repeat myself, or would you like your parents dead earlier?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” You say through your sobs that are rising in your throat, and Suguru pauses, guilt flashing as he sees what he’s already done to you, and he hasn’t even started.

“Now.” You rush off as he stares, and the others gather, he aches to follow you when you slam that door, when he hears your cries, but he does nothing. “Someone lock her doors from the inside out.”

******

It’s been all night you’ve been stuck in this goddamn room, and of course you have no phone in here, Suguru lets you use a cell phone to speak to your parents but he never really lets you keep it in your room. Finally, it’s gotta be late, you’ve lost sense of time but the locked windows of your room show it’s dark out, the door opens with a resounding click.

You peer and see him then, furious at you as he stands there, and you step up to the doorway. “Locking me away like this is beauty and the beast, huh?”

“Might as well be, isn’t that what we are?” He raises a brow, and you gulp now, shaking your head.

“No, you’re beautiful. On the outside.” You watch Suguru pause now, face softening a bit. “If I’m pregnant, shouldn’t I be allowed to eat?”

“I didn’t say… you think…”

“You’ve locked me in here for hours.” Your tummy growls as if on cue, and Suguru feels like…

God worse than shit.

His best friend had just been there, and now the girl he’s fallen for is starving and apparently… pregnant. If Gojo is to be believed, there’s life inside of you already, and what sort of life would it be when you’re living in constant terror from him? But Suguru is too far down this path, as much as he will make an exception for you, he will not do that for anyone else.

His family and yours included, eventually.

“So you know, your parents are on vacation.” You exhale in relief, but then instantly feel guilty.

What about everyone else?

“Can I have a phone to talk to them, please?”

He shrugs then. “Sure, I’ll have one brought to you along with dinner.”

“So I have to stay here!?”

“Until you calm down.” He shuts the door again as you glare at it, and he’s resting his head on the other side, despising himself.

“Suguru, really!?”

It’s of no use. With dinner and a phone in a little bit, you devour it, realizing then that you are starving, you’d fucked the man all morning and are apparently… carrying his baby, and haven’t eaten anything. The door opens and Suguru stands there once again, crossing his arms and looking down at you.

“You can come to my chambers if you behave.” You’ll behave alright.

Knowing it to be your chance to attempt to get to him in any way, you agree. As you walk down the halls, seeing his daughters giggling as if everything’s fine, Suguru pats them on the head as he pauses, and when they leave, he looks at you. “So if they were human, what would you do?”

“I asked you to behave.”

“Did you think of Gojo and-”

“Forget who you belong to?” He says angrily, hands on your shoulders now, heat burning you through the silk of your robes.

“It’s just all arranged, yeah?” Your retort leaves him breathless, sputtering, as he catches you by your wrist.

“It was arranged, but let me explain-”

“Nothing you say makes any fucking sense!” You're yanking your arm, now he is dragging you to his room, you're stumbling helplessly, following his quick pace until he's slammed the door behind you.

“You are mine, all mine.” He whispers, huge hands on your face, as you bite a trembling lip.

“Suguru, you can’t do this. Please.”

“Stop telling me what I can or can’t do. Why, think I’m not powerful enough?” He slams a hand on one side of your head, making you tense.

“Is that all this is, who’s more powerful? Does this mean nothing?” You take that hand putting it on your stomach now, as he gulps audibly, his already tired eyes even more heavy.

“The heir.”

“The baby, say it.”

“Baby…” He murmurs, almost in wonder for a moment, before stepping back, as you feel your heart shattering. “You’ll stay here, you’ll be safe. I’ll have guards if they come to retaliate.”

“Oh, so it’s all fine then, you’re gonna what, kill other kids!? Pregnant women!? Does that make you feel good, Suguru, so fucking strong?” You shove at him now, and his dark brows lower, jaw clenched.

“You will be safe.”

“For how long, until your hatred overtakes you, and you remember what I am. Say it, huh?” He’s squeezing your wrists, shoving you off him, pinning them above your head as he leans down, the ticking of the clock on his wall matching the rhythm of your pounding heart.

Tick tick tick.

How long until your heart stops beating?

“You’re… more.” He wants to say it then, that he loves you, a human… that he’s never felt like this, even with the love of his friends.

Nothing like it.

You scoff right at him. “Tiny, pathetic, useless, but you’re different, okay? I know that you are.”

“I’m a human. Say it. Say monkey, isn’t that what I am?” He glares at you now, shaking his head, and you laugh then, a mean little laugh. “Can’t now, why?”

“You’re… I… just shut the fuck up.” He slams his lips down on your brutally, your arms are going numb until he releases them, his tongue diving inside your mouth, drinking every bit of you up as you whine softly. “I need you.”

You blink a bit, disoriented at his words, as he picks you up in his arms, and you cling to him, tears filling your eyes. “Why? I’m pregnant now, remember?”

“You think Gojo knows?”

“He knows a lot. He knows you.” Suguru glares now, your back against that wall, as his hands grip your ass, and you feel his hard body against you. “He loves you.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” He’s kissing you again, as you exhale, trying to catch a breath, trying to control the storm inside of you. “No one should love me.” He murmurs against your neck, teeth sinking in, making you cling to him, nails scraping against the silk of his robes.

“Why n-not? You’re not t-too far-”

“Baby, I’m no good.” He whispers now, in your ear, and you know it’s true, you know that Suguru Geto is a fucking monster.

But you also know one thing too.

You’re in love with him.

In love with a monster who wants to end the world.

“Then why do you need me? Huh? Go get one of your girls, I’m pregnant already.” Suguru scowls as he leans back, and you bite back a moan as he moves against your hot, eager cunt.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?”

“Shut up.”

“No! We won’t.” You wriggle until you’re out of his hold, and heading for his door, he presses your front against it, hand on yours on that knob. “Let me go. You said once I got pregnant, you were done. Remember?”

Suguru said a lot, a lot of bullshit.

He called you disgusting, useless, trash, a monkey… but as you look at him the way you do, you’re breaking him, in between making his desire to take you grow by every fucking minute. He cups your face, brushing aside your tears, you always cried over him, didn’t you? He’s not worth them, he’s not worth any of you, yet he’s so obsessed and greedy he still takes.

“We don’t have to stop. We both enjoy this, don’t I make you feel good?” He’s slipping his fingers, moaning when he finds your soaked panties under your pretty yukata, and you clench your teeth, eyes rolling back. “We can give this a chance, having this baby.”

“A chance?” You whisper, in between hiccups of pleasure as he keeps teasing your clit over and over, and you find yourself arching against him.

“To be together. I know they’ll be special- like you.”

“I am a fucking human.”

“No.” He’s sinking two fingers in your slutty little hole, as those sticky walls grip his thick digits so good, as he loses himself in your scent, your feel, the sound of you, every fucking bit. “You’re special, you’re more, I know it.”

“Mnh… I hate you…” You cry out as he pumps more and more, thighs shaking while he works you so damn well.

“I know you hate me. You should… go ahead, cum f’me.”

“Call me it.”

“No.”

“Useless, pathetic- weak, worthless-”

“Beautiful.”

“No!” You’re fighting it, turning in his hold, as he sucks your juices off his fingers, getting on his knees for you, and you’re faltering again. “Don’t call me that.”

“You are beautiful. Do you not know?”

“Shut up. I hate you more for it.” Your tears stream further down your face, as he tries to grip you by the hips, to drag you closer to him. “You act as if you could ever love me.”

Suguru blinks then, pressing a kiss on your tummy for a moment, making you both pause. “We can have a perfect world.”

“It’s a massacre, it’s murder, it’s not perfect! Killing everyone that doesn’t meet your standards? Suguru please just stop. Stop it.”

He scowls now, standing tall, looming right over you, your breath catches in your throat in fear. “I will not stop my plans. Gojo got you this fucked up from one meeting? Maybe you did like him then.”

You scoff now. “Your audacity is batshit. How can you be jealous of your arranged wife who is a human, that you said you didn’t wanna touch!?”

“I… you know I didn’t…”

“I don’t know shit, Suguru Geto. Except Gojo loves you, and fuck, I see glimpses of how and why. I do.” You cup his face then, he jerks back for a moment, like your touch is fire, as you cup the other side of his face. “If you love Gojo, and if you care for me one little bit, you won’t.”

“You assume I love anyone.” His words, lies, tear you apart.

You blink more tears, as Suguru lies right to your face. “You care.”

“So what!? That’s why you’ll be safe.”

“And Gojo? And those damn kids from Jujutsu high, and the people of Kyoto, children, you’ll kill them?”

“Just go. You don’t want to now that you’re pregnant, right? Leave.”

“It’s not that, it’s that I want to know if anything good is fucking inside you, Suguru please just this one thing. Just don’t attack.”

His jaw sets as he pulls your hands off, and they fall to your sides, while he glares down at you. “I’ll give him another week to prepare, you can let him know since you’re suddenly his friend, hmm?”

“He loves you. Don’t you see it? Can’t you still be worthy of it? Of… my love?” You whisper, after he’s turned away, and Suguru laughs darkly.

“You could never love me.”

“How do you know- if you’d just try, Suguru!”

“I’ll give it a week. That’s the best you’re getting.”

“Is there any room for me or this baby in whatever heart you have left, with all that hatred inside you?” You whisper, he turns to open his mouth, but you storm out of his room, sobbing as you rush down the halls, leaving him alone, picturing his friend brushing your hair back.

Gojo would be better for you, wouldn’t he?

But Suguru doesn’t think he could ever let you go, even when he brings you to tears, even when he himself feels moisture that hasn’t been there in so long, memories and images of happiness filling him. Of you and a baby, maybe they look pretty like their mom, maybe they’re fiery like you, maybe they’re…

Human.

He sinks to the ground then, head falling against the door.

What if they’re human?

You’re collapsing on your bed, in tears, trying to pull yourself together, finally getting the number Satoru had conveniently hidden in your collar, pulling it out and dialing it, sniffling. “Hello?”

“I tried… I tried but…”

“Shh, hey, calm down.” Satoru sits up in his empty home, hearing your cries, some odd ache to comfort you filling him.

If anyone knows what it’s like to love Suguru Geto, despite all his flaws and his intentions, it’s Satoru Gojo. But also… you seemed so fragile, so small in a home that all hated you. And yet he saw it in your eyes, pretty eyes, full of fear but also feelings, and then he knew that you care for him, as much as Suguru cared for you, so very clear to Satoru.

“It’s okay… it’s not all on you.” Satoru says, his voice comforting your aching heart now.

“He said another week he would give you.” Satoru sighs then, nodding.

“A week is better, more time to prepare.”

“I tried, he doesn’t… he won’t…”

“I know. You love him.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“Neither should I, but I remember my best friend, the only friend I had.” Your heart tears apart for the person Suguru used to be, and now for Satoru, who you barely know, but you feel it, the longing, the loneliness.

“I don’t know if he’s in there. I don’t know if I can face him if he does it.”

“You bought me time, sweetheart, thank you okay? You can only do so much right now.” He says softly, and you take a shaky breath.

“I see why you two were close, you’re kind of comforting.”

“Comforting hmm, I don’t think I was back then.” Satoru remembers being a little shithead, conceited, cocky. “I don’t think I was there when he needed me, when he needed someone. I can’t forgive myself for it.”

“You should.” You lay on your back now, staring up at the intricate patterns on the ceiling, as the warmth of the phone touches your cheek. “What are you gonna do, Gojo?”

“Try to save everyone, of course. Should be a piece of cake.” You snort then, as he laughs a bit, deterring the situation some. “I meant it, I can get you away, somewhere safe.”

“Why would you?”

“You didn’t choose this. You’re just… a girl. You know?”

“Pregnant, really?”

“Mmm, yeah I’m pretty sure. It’s a certain energy I can pick up on, like more than one in your body.”

“I should go, I’ll be fine, I don't think he’d hurt me… in any way other than… hurting others.” He hurts you in his own ways, sure, but Suguru doesn’t realize how much he’s hurting you, pushing you away. You shouldn’t care, you should have known he was this way, but something in you loves him, against it all.

Do you love the monster or the man still inside?

“All right, if you’re sure.” Satoru says softly, cutting your thoughts off as you blink a bit.

“Satoru, will you… kill him if you had to?” He hears the fear, the thoughts he has in his own mind clearly connecting with you, the last thing Satoru ever wanted to do was kill him.

“I’d try everything else first, but I have to defend the kids, and everyone else… if it comes to it, I… shit I don’t wanna think of it.” You hear his emotions, sighing as you come to understand his meaning.

“Is there any of him left?” You ask softly, Satoru takes off his blindfold, pouring himself a drink and leaning against the counter, pressing you against his ear.

“You want to know if the Suguru you met that day is in there?”

“What was he… like, even?”

Satoru laughs a bit, without humor. “He was a little shit.”

“Well, he’s still that.” You both laugh softly, shit it’s the first time you can recall laughing since you’ve been here almost.

“He was arrogant, but he was kind, he thought we should help the weak, I argued with him. He stopped me from… doing some rash things. We lost a few people, and he grew distant, I wish I noticed… or…”

“He wanted to protect the weak?”

“Yes.” You can’t fathom that it's the same man, sighing a bit now, shifting in the bed as sleep starts to tug at you somehow, though you’re scared to even close your eyes. 

“You really loved him.”

“I still do.” He clears his throat a bit now, Satoru’s never really shared how he felt until you, a stranger on a phone, married to his former friend, but for some reason he feels you understand more than anyone. Your voice alone, speaking the words, are something he didn’t know he craved.

“I will keep trying if I can, but I can’t face him right now.”

“Just get some rest, if you need me I’ll get you away. But I hope… I hope he’s still him, somewhere.”

“Me too. Good night, Satoru.”

“Good night.” You hang up, leaving his mind whirling, thinking of your pretty forlorn face, wishing he could save you, wishing he could save his damn best friend, and everyone else. “An extra week, huh…”

You curl up and pass out shortly after, in nightmare after nightmare, hating Suguru, loving Suguru, images of Satoru in there too, of them killing each other, hurting each other. Villages burning, a city in ruins, Suguru’s curses everywhere, so vivid and real you’re tossing and turning, unable to wake up, even as you scream out loud in your sleep.

Suguru is in your chambers then, watching what he’s done, sitting by your side as you toss and turn, gently touching your forehead, sweaty from your exertions. “Shh, Princess…”

Princess.

Why’d he say that?

Why couldn’t he call you it- monkey- anymore?

“Suguru don’t… I love you…” He pauses at your words, on your lips incoherent, tears glistening in the dark room. “Don’t… you’re hurting me… never loved me…”

“I do, fuck I do.” He leans down, holding you, he’s never spent the night with you, of course you wouldn’t allow it, but he’s never even held you.

What’s he done, but fuck you good and try to make you forget how horrible he truly is? As you calm now, blinking a bit, in and out of a daze. “Suguru?” You whisper, fear in your pretty eyes, mixed with more.

He caused this.

How could you even have a baby like this?

“Go to sleep, you were screaming so loud everyone is up.” He huffs, lying to you now, and you pull back.

“I’m fine. Just go, sorry I was having nightmares.” He pulls you back against him now, his strong chest, warmth you ache to sink against, all while you try to picture a world in which he wasn’t evil, wasn’t insane, wasn’t bloodthirsty. A world where he’s just a boy and you’re just a girl, cuddling in bed.

It’s a lovely dream, but you know it’s fake.

“Get to sleep.” His soft order is met with him pulling you even closer, covering you both with a blanket, and for one moment, you let yourself believe the lie, that Suguru could be himself again. That he’d give up this insanity for you.

A beautiful lie, really.

You nestle against him, wrapping an arm around his waist, burying your tired face against his neck, and Suguru feels himself breaking in two. Part of him wants to just… go back to how things were, to be good for you, but there’s still such hatred that’s eaten at him for years. Consuming him.

He knows hatred will win.

But as he holds the girl he loves, he hopes she’ll forgive him for what he's about to do.

More angst cominggg- this will be 6 parts loves <3

taglist #1 @ur-1fav-girl @gradmacoco @arabellasolstice @saitamaswifey @rjreins @uarmyhopeworldwide @makkiihehe @dabisdolly @angelzrulez21-blog @juicu @meme848 @arcanedx @satxoru @jeon-blue @longlivegojo @silvarys @enhasrii @inthedarkshadows000 @shokosmokes @schlokki @ashdiamashi @socutesotall @staarflowerr @you-need-namjesus @pkcoleight @tasteofapplecider @erenspersonalwh0re @makingtimemine @boobsbeesbongos @sjstg3 @msniks @hhhhhhhikariiiiiiii @l1v1ngzomb1e @lilbxtchsyndrome @voideddd @maddyhehehehhe @nanamiskentos @yenayaps @alygator77 @slamonwords @nonamevenus @sugurumylove @shibataimu @spicy-woodland-queen @nonamebbsblog @notyuralycat @beabamboo @satttanx

[cloudtransprncy]

Dumb/Problem pt. 2

Kim Chaewon x Male Reader ft. Eunbi Pt 2 of Dumb.

Being a good boyfriend at a party? Boooring. Letting your girlfriend’s best friend drag you upstairs to fuck? Awh shit here we go again.

Her lips stretch around your cock, wet but controlled. Perfect, but not desperate. No mess, no frantic need to take more than she can handle. Just slow, deliberate motions, the kind that look good in the mirror she angled herself toward before she started.

Fuck, why can't she just let go for once?

It feels good, you admit, but not as good as it could. Not as good as it should.

Eunbi keeps her hands to herself. No stroking, no slick trails of saliva over her fingers. Just her mouth, just the steady rhythm of her tongue gliding against your shaft, the soft press of her lips forming a seal as she bobs down, then up again. It's careful. Too careful.

You want to tell her to stop thinking about how it looks. To stop being so fucking pretty about it. But you don't.

Her room smells like fresh laundry and vanilla lotion. The soft cotton of her bed sheets beneath you feels clean, untouched, like everything she owns. The dim light from her nightstand lamp casts a glow over her skin, making her look softer, younger. Her sweater is slipping off one shoulder, delicate pearl necklace resting against her collarbone—a birthday gift from her parents that she never takes off, even now.

She looks like she belongs in a romance movie, not on her knees with your cock between her lips.

Everything in her room is carefully arranged, intentional. Cream-colored sheets, layered blankets with knit textures, a few decorative pillows placed neatly against the headboard. A woven rug spreads beneath the bed, soft against your feet. No clutter, no mess. A single shelf above her desk holds a couple of books—her worn copy of "Pride and Prejudice" with color-coded sticky notes peeking out, her planner filled with perfectly-lettered assignments and deadlines, a small potted succulent she waters every Sunday, and a framed photo of her and her friends at homecoming—perfectly centered.

Not a single thing out of place. Not even when she's doing this.

She has plushies, but only a few, lined up neatly on a chair in the corner rather than scattered around the bed. The Rilakkuma bear you won her at the fair sits front and center—a trophy of your relationship, displayed like evidence. The walls are warm-toned, decorated with woven macramé and string lights draped just right, giving the room a soft, effortless aesthetic. Everything in here feels curated, thought-out, a space meant to be calm, peaceful. A room that doesn't belong in the same world as you know who.

She looks good like this. Hair neatly tucked behind her ear, cheeks hollowed out in a way that makes her look like some perfectly curated fantasy. The kind of girl you bring home, not sneak around with.

This should be enough. This should be all you want. So why isn't it?

She makes it look effortless, makes it look like something out of a scene meant to be remembered, meant to be admired. But that's the problem. It's pretty—too much so. Like she's thinking about how this looks, not how it feels.

You want to grab her hair, push her down, make her take more—see if she can let go for once. But you already know she won't.

She's kneeling between your legs, jaw working as she takes you in again, but there's a hesitance. A limit. She won't spit. Won't let it get messy. Won't let it drip past her lips or smear across her chin. Won't use her hands, won't pump you in time with her mouth, won't let her own arousal turn this into something real.

It's a performance. A perfect, practiced performance.

She's soft. Gentle. Controlled. Not like her.

Not like Chaewon, who'd already have you up against the wall by now, who'd have spit running down her chin and wouldn't give a single fuck.

You tell yourself it should be enough. That it feels good. That you should just take what she's giving you. But some part of you—some selfish, impatient part—already knows where your mind is going next.

She just wants to be good at it. Not filthy, not desperate—just good. And that's the problem, isn't it?

You're frustrated.

"Come on," you murmur, voice thick, pleading. "Just a little deeper."

Your fingers sink into her hair, gentle but insistent, urging. Not forcing—never forcing—but hoping she'll listen, that she'll feel the way your body aches for more, that she'll give you more.

Eunbi shakes her head. A small, simple movement. No.

Your stomach tightens. "Please?" You swallow hard, trying again, voice quieter this time. "Just for a second."

Jesus, you're practically begging now. Has it really come to this?

She doesn't stop, doesn't even pause—her tongue moves over you, warm and slow, dragging along the underside, circling the tip, keeping her rhythm neat and measured. She kisses the sides, lets her lips glide over your length, keeps her pace controlled. Too controlled.

It's good. She's good. Gorgeous, poised, deliberate—like everything about her. Her dark lashes flutter as she looks up at you, the golden light from her bedside lamp soft against her skin, casting her in something warm, something that makes her feel untouchable. Like she belongs on a canvas, not on her knees.

But it's not enough.

You let out a breath, low, shaky. "Eunbi, please," you whine, shifting, trying not to thrust too much into her mouth, trying to keep still, trying to let her set the pace. "I need more. Please, just—"

"I said no."

Her voice is quiet but firm, steady, like she's not even considering it. Like it's a boundary so deeply ingrained she doesn't even feel the need to explain. No.

She pulls back slightly, looking up at you with those doe eyes that normally make you melt. "I don't like when you push like this," she adds, a hint of disappointment in her tone. "You know that."

Fuck. Now you feel like shit for even asking.

You groan, tilting your head back against her pillows, burning with frustration, trying to fight the desperation curling inside you. She's so beautiful. The way she looks like this, her lips wet, her hair falling in soft waves over her shoulder, the way her touch is careful, precise

—

But it's not dirty. It's not messy. It's not what you need.

What's wrong with you that this perfect girl isn't enough?

She stops before you finish.

Just pulls away, composed, dabbing the corner of her mouth with her thumb before smoothing a hand over her hair, like she's fixing herself in a mirror, like she's resetting.

You let out a breath, half a groan, running a hand over your face, still aching, still tense, still fucking needing—

"Can I at least fuck you?"

It comes out rough, raw, too exposed, but you don't care. You need it. Need her. Need something.

Eunbi exhales, standing up, brushing invisible dust off her sweater, already moving on. Already done.

"I need to study. The AP Bio exam is next week, and I still haven't gone through the last chapter." She gestures to the color-coded study guide on her desk, sticky notes and highlighters arranged by subject. "You know how important this is for my scholarship application."

Like it's obvious. Like it's the only thing that matters now. Like you weren't just in her mouth, half-delirious, seconds away from losing it.

Right. The perfect student. The perfect girlfriend. Never lets anything get in the way of her future—not even you.

You stare, blinking, trying to catch up, trying to process how she does this—how she always does this.

Your head falls back against the bed. A groan rumbles from your throat, frustrated, unsatisfied.

"We haven't fucked in days," you mutter, half a whine, half an accusation.

She glances at you, unimpressed. "Maybe you should be studying too." She pauses, softening slightly. "Your Calc grade isn't exactly where it needs to be for State, is it?"

Low blow. But she's not wrong.

Then she picks up her laptop, flips it open, and just like that, you're forgotten. The light from the screen illuminates her face, highlighting her focused expression—the tiny furrow between her brows that appears when she's concentrating. Even frustrated, you can't help but notice how pretty she looks like this, how dedicated.

Your breath comes slow, heavy. You stare at the ceiling, still pulsing, still hard, still aching with nowhere to put it.

This isn't working. Not today, not anymore.

Then—

Your phone buzzes.

You reach for it, thumb sliding over the screen, hardly thinking, barely hoping.

A message.

From her.

But not under her name. You're not that dumb.

Your stomach tightens, pulse kicking up.

Chaewon.

"You and Eunbi are coming to Yena's party, right?"

You hesitate, fingers hovering over the keyboard before you finally type, "Idk, Eunbi's being lame."

Fuck, that feels disloyal. But it's true, isn't it? You almost laugh at the absurdity—worried about a text when you've had your cock inside her best friend. Your moral compass is seriously fucked.

The reply comes fast.

"Awh, what? She didn't give you what you wanted again?"

You don't answer. You don't need to. Your silence is enough—it always is with Chaewon. She reads you like a book, knows you in ways Eunbi never tries to.

A moment later, another message from her.

"I always give you what you want."

The frustration lingers, simmering under your skin. But now, it's shifting—turning into something else entirely.

You shouldn't answer. You should put the phone down. Focus on Eunbi. Be better.

But your thumb hovers over the keyboard, and you know exactly what you'll type next.

Chaewon is already on her knees. Mouth open, spit trailing from her lips.

This isn't a performance. This isn't careful. This is fucking chaos.

It's messy. So fucking messy. Drool pools at the corners of her mouth, her throat taking your cock fully. She doesn't just take it—she devours it. Not one controlled motion, not a single thought about how it looks—just raw, desperate need.

So different from Eunbi's careful rhythm, her pristine technique. This isn't romance. This is hunger.

The bass from the speakers rattles the walls, the muffled sound of people shouting over music bleeding through the door but distant—because you're upstairs, in Yena's family bathroom, the one she reluctantly said people could use if they absolutely needed to. "Just don't go in any bedrooms," she'd warned everyone at the start. "My parents would kill me."

Downstairs is chaos—bodies pressed together, drinks sloshing, someone shrieking with laughter while Yena yells over the music. An hour in, Chaewon caught your eye from across the room, a slow, knowing smirk curling at her lips. She tilted her head toward the stairs, eyebrow raised in silent question. You didn't hesitate. You followed, slipping up the forbidden staircase when Yena wasn't looking.

Eunbi would never. Not at a party. Not with people around. Not in a place you weren't supposed to be.

And now you're here.

Her hands stroke your cock in time with the bob of her head, tight and slick, not caring where the spit lands. It drips from her fingers, slides down her wrist, pools on the floor beneath her knees. She fucking enjoys this. Loves the way your cock twitches in her grip, loves the way your breathing turns ragged as she ruins you with her mouth.

You watch, mesmerized, as she pulls back to the tip, lets saliva gather on her tongue, then sinks back down in one fluid motion. The contrast of her lipstick—still perfectly applied, dark against her skin—makes the whole thing feel filthier somehow. That perfect makeup, ruined by what she's doing to you.

She moans around you, the vibration sending a shudder up your spine. Her eyes flick up to yours, holding your gaze as she takes you deeper, deeper than anyone should be able to. When she reaches the base, she swallows—her throat constricting around you in waves that make your vision blur.

Where Eunbi keeps her hands to herself, Chaewon uses everything—fingers, palms, nails dragging just hard enough to make you shiver. No limits. No hesitation.

Your jeans and boxers are shoved down to your ankles, forgotten, useless. You're exposed, vulnerable, and fuck—she knows it.

She pulls off you with a wet pop, her lips slick, cheeks flushed. Then, with that wicked little smirk, she grips your cock and slaps it against her lips, her tongue flicking out between each tap. The sound is obscene in the quiet bathroom—wet, needy, filthy.

"She doesn't do this for you, does she?" she murmurs, voice wrecked, lips glossy with a mix of saliva and you.

The way she says "she"—like Eunbi is a concept, not a person. Like she's something to be pitied for not knowing how to make you fall apart.

You can barely think, barely breathe, but she doesn't give you time to recover.

"I missed your cock," she purrs, stroking you slow, teasing. "Forgot how fucking big you are."

Her thumb circles the head, spreading the wetness there, toying with the sensitive spot just beneath it. Your hips jerk involuntarily, and she laughs—a low, satisfied sound.

She leans in, but instead of taking you back into her mouth, she runs her tongue along the underside, tracing the vein from base to tip in one long, slow drag. When she reaches the head, she swirls her tongue around it, then blows cool air against the wetness, making you hiss through clenched teeth.

Eunbi would never talk like this. Would never say the word "cock" like it's candy on her tongue. Would never play with you like a cat with a mouse.

You thread your fingers through her hair, not pushing, just holding on as she continues her assault on your senses. She responds by taking just the tip between her lips, sucking hard, then releasing it with another obscene pop. Again and again, she does this—never giving you the full warmth of her mouth, just teasing, edging, driving you mad.

"You want more?" she asks, letting your cock rest heavily against her cheek, leaving a wet smear across her skin. "Tell me how badly you want it."

Your breath catches. Words fail you. She waits, patient in her cruelty, one eyebrow raised.

"Please," you finally manage, the word raw and desperate.

She rewards you by taking you deep again—so deep you feel the back of her throat, feel her gag slightly before adjusting. But she doesn't pull back. Instead, she stays there, swallowing around you, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes from the effort. The sight alone nearly finishes you—Chaewon, kneeling before you, taking you so deep it hurts, mascara starting to run.

She lowers her mouth again—but not where you expect.

You thud back against the counter as her lips part over your balls, warm, wet, sucking soft before her tongue drags slow and filthy along the skin. You choke on a moan, hands gripping the edge of the sink, barely keeping yourself upright.

You'd never even dream of asking Eunbi for this. The thought of her perfect mouth anywhere but where she decides it should be feels impossible.

The risk? Insane.

Eunbi is downstairs. Completely oblivious, probably sipping whatever drink Yena handed her, scanning the room for you. Probably checking her watch, wondering if you're just talking to someone. Trusting you, even now.

Your moral compass isn't just fucked. It's shattered.

A burst of laughter outside the door—someone else who snuck upstairs. Footsteps. Then—a knock.

You freeze.

Your stomach drops. Chaewon? She just grins. Breathless, messy, still on her knees.

"Occupied," she calls out, voice sweet, almost sing-song.

Where Eunbi would panic, straighten her clothes, check her appearance—Chaewon thrives on the risk.

A pause. The shuffle of footsteps. Then the voices move away, back toward the stairs—likely another couple looking for privacy in the off-limits zone, disappointed to find the bathroom taken.

She presses her hands against your thighs, digging in just enough to ground you, before tilting her head up. The bathroom light catches the deep brown of her hair, the strands sleek and polished where they frame her face.

A weeks ago, the blonde had made her look sharp, dangerous—but this? This soft brown, paired with the glitter dusting her collarbones, the sequined dress clinging to her body, the way she looks up at you with that expression—

She doesn't just turn heads anymore. She kills.

And she's about to kill you, too.

Suddenly, she takes you even deeper.

Your head slams back against the mirror as she forces herself down, throat tightening, swallowing around you until her nose brushes your skin. She stays there for a moment, the heat, the pressure, unbearable—before pulling back just enough to suck in a desperate breath, spit dripping from her chin. Then she does it again. And again. Wrecking you.

Her hands are everywhere now—gripping your thighs, sliding up to your stomach, tracing the line of muscle that disappears beneath her lips. She moans around you, like she's getting off on this too, like having you in her mouth is as good for her as it is for you.

The wet sounds fill the bathroom—obscene, filthy noises that would make anyone flush with embarrassment. But not her. She revels in it, makes it even messier, even louder.

Everything Eunbi wouldn't do. Everything you begged for earlier. Everything you needed.

Your legs nearly give out, knees weak, hands scrambling for something—anything—to hold onto. You fist her hair, not to control, just to survive.

She pulls back just enough to take a breath, your cock still resting on her tongue, before diving back down. She establishes a rhythm now—brutal, relentless, taking you to the edge and keeping you there. Each time she reaches the base, she swallows, throat constricting around you in waves that make your vision blur.

When you're close—so close you can barely stand it—she feels it, knows it from the tension in your thighs, the way your breath hitches. And she pulls back, letting cool air hit wet skin, making you gasp at the sudden change.

"Not yet," she whispers, stroking you with a tight grip that's just shy of enough. "I'm not done playing with you."

Before you can protest, she's sucking at the head again, tongue flicking across the slit, gathering the wetness there. Her free hand slides lower, cupping your balls, rolling them gently between her fingers.

The dual sensation has you seeing stars, biting your lip to keep from crying out. Your hips jerk forward, seeking more, but she controls the pace now, keeping you right at the edge.

Chaewon pulls off with a gasp, dragging the back of her hand across her mouth, a strand of spit snapping between her lips and your cock. Her gaze flicks up to yours, dark, knowing. Smug.

"I want more," she murmurs, voice rough, fingers curling around the waistband of your jeans. She pulls them up for you, tugging your boxers into place, smoothing the fabric down over your still-hard cock.

Not "I need to study." Not "Maybe later." Just raw, honest want.

Then, like nothing happened, she turns to the sink. Washes her hands, pats her lips dry, eyes catching yours in the mirror. That smirk still lingers.

She doesn't ask if you're following her. She knows you are.

With Eunbi, you follow rules. With Chaewon, you just do.

Chaewon grabs your wrist and pulls you toward the door, slipping out of the bathroom like a ghost. The upstairs hallway is empty—everyone else obediently staying downstairs like Yena instructed, the music and voices a distant roar beneath your feet. Up here, it's just the two of you, the dim light causing the hallway to be bathed in shadows.

The forbidden zone. Where you definitely shouldn't be. Where Eunbi would never go.

She finds an empty bedroom—one of the guest rooms, judging by the neutral decor. Pushes the door open. Steps inside.

And you go with her. Even knowing Eunbi is somewhere downstairs, even knowing what this makes you, you follow Chaewon without hesitation.

Because Eunbi gives you what you should want. But Chaewon gives you what you need.

The door clicks shut behind you, sealing the two of you away from the chaos downstairs. Neither of you bother with the light switch. The only illumination comes from the moonlight cutting through the blinds, painting soft silver lines across her skin. It's enough. You see her clearly. She sees you. You both know exactly what you want. The music is a distant thrum beneath your feet, the muffled sounds of voices and laughter nothing more than background noise.

Chaewon doesn't wait. She shoves you back onto the bed, her hands pressed against your chest as she straddles your lap, her weight sinking onto you like she belongs there. Her mouth crashes onto yours, all heat and urgency, a clash of lips and teeth, her breath warm and sharp with the faint taste of alcohol.

She kisses like she does everything—reckless, unrestrained, like she has something to prove. Her tongue flicks against yours, demanding, teasing, making you groan against her lips. Your fingers find her thighs, gripping, kneading the soft skin before sliding up, tracing the curve of muscle until they meet the hem of her dress. You push it higher, inch by inch, the sequined fabric rough against your palms, a contrast to the impossibly smooth skin beneath.

She doesn't stop you. She only presses closer, grinding against you in a slow, deliberate roll of her hips that has your cock straining painfully against your jeans. The heat of her is everywhere, suffocating, intoxicating. You can feel the dampness of her through the layers of fabric, her body already responding, already wanting.

Your bodies remember each other. Like muscle memory. Like addiction.

Your hands drift up, slipping beneath the fabric, palms mapping the dip of her abdomen, the delicate ridge of her ribs, the smooth arch of her waist. She's warm, taut, her body tight beneath your touch, and fuck—you've wanted this, wanted her, for far too long. The softness of her skin contrasts with the firmness of muscle beneath—every inch of her body a testament to perfect discipline, now coming apart under your hands.

"You fucking love my body don’t ya?" she whispers, arching into your touch. "You must love how tight I am."

The kiss breaks, her breath fanning against your lips, both of you panting. You lift a hand to your mouth, never taking your eyes off her as you drag your tongue over two fingers, wetting them slowly, deliberately. The moonlight catches the gleam of saliva on your skin.

Her gaze drops, watching you, pupils dark, mouth slightly parted. She doesn't say anything, but the way she looks at you, the way her hips press down just a little harder, says enough. Her breathing changes—shortened, expectant—a minute shift that only happens when she knows what's coming.

You reach between her legs.

Jesus Christ.

Your fingers find lace, the damp fabric clinging to her, heat radiating through it. You push it aside, and the moment your fingers slide over her, you feel it—slick, dripping, obscene. The wetness coats your fingertips instantly, spreading as you press in, parting her folds. The sensation is electric—soft, swollen flesh giving way beneath your touch, the slickness making everything frictionless, perfect.

A filthy squelch fills the air, louder than it should be, and your stomach tightens. She's so fucking wet, soaking for you, sticky and warm, coating your skin like she's been waiting for this all night. The evidence of her arousal is undeniable—a primal, visceral response that no amount of performance could fake.

A groan rips from your throat before you can stop it. "Fuck."

Chaewon smirks against your jaw, lips dragging over the sensitive skin there, breath hot and teasing. "You hear how wet I am for you? Nobody gets me this fucking soaked."

You push two fingers inside her, easy, effortless. She gasps, her walls clenching tight around you, slick and needy, sucking your fingers deeper. Her hands grip your shoulders, nails biting into your skin as she rocks against you, fucking herself onto your hand, chasing more. You can feel the flutter of her inner muscles, the way they grip and release around your fingers, drawing you in deeper with each pulse.

Each roll of her hips makes it filthier, makes the sound of it wetter, the obscene noise of her arousal filling the dimly lit room. The slick noises of your fingers moving inside her cut through the distant bass from downstairs, somehow more real than anything happening at the party. There's something primal about that sound—wet, hungry, honest.

Her lips ghost over your ear, voice rough, desperate. "Been thinking about your cock stretching me open all fucking night."

Your cock throbs painfully in response, stiff and aching, pressing insistently against the confines of your jeans. She feels it, of course she does. And then—

She reaches down.

She pulls you out, fingers curling around your length, slow and deliberate, stroking just enough to tease but not enough to satisfy. The contrast of her small hand wrapped around you, her grip firm but playful, makes your stomach clench. She watches your face as she does it, reading every twitch of your brows, every sharp inhale. She knows exactly what she's doing to you. The cool air of the room hits your heated skin, making you even more aware of how hard you are, how desperate.

One touch and you're already at her mercy.

Your hand is still between her legs, fingers coated in her slick, but before you can push deeper, she bats it away, shaking her head. She wants control, and you give it to her, because there's no other option. You're completely at her mercy.

She drags the tip of your cock against her folds, rolling her hips just enough to spread her arousal over you, painting you with her wetness. The sensation is maddening, teasing, an unbearable heat that has your fingers tightening on her hips, clutching her like she's the only thing tethering you to the earth. The silken glide of her against you, the warmth, the slickness—it's a cruel preview of what waits just beyond.

The way she uses her own wetness to slick you up. No hesitation. No shame. Just raw fucking need.

She hums, pleased, as she does it again. Slow. Excruciating. The head of your cock catches against her entrance, almost slipping in before she pulls away again, denying you both what you want. The tease is calculated, precise—she knows exactly how to wind you up, how to make you desperate.

You groan, forehead dropping against her shoulder, breathing hard. The teasing is torture.

She giggles, dark and amused. "You always get so needy for me." She grinds against you again, coating your cock with her slick. "Bet she doesn't fuck you like I do."

Then, in one smooth, fluid motion, she sinks down.

Your breath stutters, a guttural moan ripped from your throat as she takes you to the base in one go, her walls gripping you like a vice, hot and suffocating, squeezing you so tight it borders on unbearable. The sudden engulfing heat is a shock to your system—going from the cool air to the burning, tight clutch of her body in an instant.

"Fuck," she gasps, voice breaking. "So big. You stretch me so fucking good."

Your head falls back, eyes locked on where your bodies meet, watching your cock disappear into her slick heat, swallowed by her perfect, tight body. The visual alone nearly makes you come—the contrast of her against you, the way she stretches around your thickness, the gleam of her arousal coating both of you. There's something hypnotic about the junction where your bodies connect, something primal and satisfying about the visual proof of your joining.

Chaewon trembles, her thighs flexing as she adjusts, muscles taut, abs tightening as she takes you fully, stretching around you. Her mouth falls open, breath hitching, a choked moan slipping free. The moonlight catches the sweat beginning to form along her collarbones, making her skin gleam like she's been dusted with silver.

She bites her lip, eyes hazy as she exhales slow, feeling every inch of you inside her. "oh my god," she whispers, nails digging into your chest, anchoring herself against you as she shudders, as she finally lets herself feel it—the fullness, the way you stretch her open.

You barely hold yourself together. She's so tight, so warm, so fucking perfect, gripping you like she was made for this. For a moment, neither of you move. It's too much, too good, too fucking overwhelming. You can feel the subtle pulsing of her inner muscles as they adjust to your size, the minute tremors running through her thighs as she holds herself still.

Then she does.

A slow, torturous roll of her hips. Making sure you feel every inch of her. The movement causes a ripple effect through her body—the subtle flex of her abdominal muscles, the shift in her posture, the way her breath catches when you hit a spot deeper inside her.

The way she works her body. The absolute control she has. Like she's been studying exactly how to make you lose your mind.

Your fingers press bruises into her skin, trying to ground yourself as she starts to move, her control unwavering, her pace teasing. She isn't rushing—this is for her first. The slow drag of your cock inside her, the way her walls flutter each time she lifts herself just a little before sinking back down, inch by inch, stretching around you over and over.

Her nails rake over your neckt, leaving faint red trails in their wake, legs trembling slightly as she builds her rhythm, grinding first, then lifting herself higher, letting herself adjust before coming back down, harder. You can see the concentration on her face, the focus as she finds the angle that works best, the depth that makes her breath stutter.

"Shit! You feel so fucking good inside me," she breathes, voice breaking with each thrust.

Then she lifts all the way up, just enough that only the tip remains inside her. And then she drops.

You groan, your hands flying to her hips, helping, guiding, lifting her before dropping her back down onto your cock, bouncing her, feeding her exactly what she wants. The feeling of her coming down around you again and again is almost too much—each time she sinks onto you, her pussy seems to grip you tighter, wetter, hungrier. The impact of her body meeting yours sends shockwaves through both of you, the wet slap of skin on skin adding to the symphony of sounds filling the room.

She cries out, her head tipping back, letting herself get lost in it. Her thighs flex, her abs tightening each time she slams down, using the strength in her body to fuck herself onto you harder, faster. You feel everything—the tightness, the heat, the sheer hunger behind every movement. The sequins of her dress catch the moonlight as it shifts around her body, like she's wrapped in stars, coming apart in your hands.

This is what sex is supposed to be. Not careful. Not controlled. Just fucking animal.

The rhythm builds. She grinds deep in between, tilting her hips, rolling against you to hit just the right spot, her moans turning into high, desperate whimpers. The sound of her getting closer to the edge makes your cock throb inside her, makes you want to flip her over and take control, but there's something hypnotic about watching her use you like this—the pleasure on her face, the flush spreading across her chest, the sweat making her skin gleam in the half-light.

Her breathing turns ragged, her voice dissolving into gasps, unrestrained, loud enough that if anyone was standing outside the door, they'd know exactly what she was doing to you. And she doesn't care. Each exhale carries a moan, each inhale a gasp as she works herself on your cock, taking exactly what she needs.

"Bet she never rides your cock like this," she pants, voice raw with pleasure.

Downstairs, people are dancing, drinking, talking. Up here, the world's ending. And you're both happy to burn.

You don’t respond, all you can do is grip her harder, guide her movements, lift her higher, bring her down faster, lose yourself in the feel of her. Her pussy is fucking wrapped around around you, slick and hot and perfect, squeezing with each movement like she's trying to milk every last drop from you. The heat between your bodies grows, sweat making your skin slide together, the air in the room thick with the scent of sex.

She moves faster. Filthy. Unapologetic. Fucking you like she owns you. Her movements become less controlled, more desperate—a frantic search for release that has her grinding down harder, taking you deeper, her entire body tensed and trembling as she chases her pleasure.

The bed creaks beneath you, the frame knocking against the wall, the bass from the party downstairs pulsing through the floor, through your bones. The rhythm of the music below seems to sync with her movements, like the whole night is building to this collision. The distant thump of bass is a counterpoint to the wet sounds of your bodies joining, creating a soundtrack to your recklessness.

Every sound outside makes this hotter. The risk, the recklessness—it fuels her, fuels both of you. Knowing that just a floor below, everyone is oblivious. Knowing that at any moment, someone could come looking. Knowing that what you're doing is wrong in all the ways that feel so fucking right.

"I'm the only one who knows how to take this cock," she moans, her movements becoming more erratic, more desperate.

This is what you needed. Her body. Her.

Without warning, she leans forward, her hands pressing against your chest for balance, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Then she shifts, twisting her body until she's facing away from you, her legs tucking neatly beneath yours, straddling you in reverse cowgirl.

Not just a new position. A fucking display.

Your cock slips free from her dripping cunt, the sudden loss of warmth making you groan. The head catches briefly on her swollen lips before it slaps wetly against your stomach, coated in her juices, gleaming in the dim light. You're drenched in her—your cock, your balls, even your thighs sticky with evidence of how fucking soaked she is for you.

The moonlight catches every bead of sweat on her neck and shoulders, highlighting the dip of her spine, the perfect curve where it meets her ass. Her skin is flushed pink where your fingers gripped too hard, already bruising—marking her as yours.

She reaches down between her legs, fingers slick with her own arousal, and wraps them around the base of your cock. You feel the squelch as she grips you, her fluids making her grip slippery. Her thumb smears through the mess at the base, mixing your pre-cum with her slick in a filthy cocktail.

Even her hands are fucking dripping.

She angles your length against her entrance, rolling her hips, dragging the tip through the wetness that coats her inner thighs. You can see it in the moonlight—her arousal literally dripping from her cunt, trailing down her thighs in glistening rivulets. She's so fucking wet it's obscene, her pussy swollen and red from the pounding, lips puffy and spread.

Then, slowly, she starts to sink down. You watch, mesmerized, as her cunt stretches around you again, the pink flesh yielding, spreading, taking your girth inch by inch. The sight of your cock disappearing into her is hypnotic—the contrast of her tight hole struggling to accommodate you, the way her body swallows you up.

She sinks down, and this time you can see everything. The way her asshole clenches reflexively with each inch she takes. The way her pussy lips stretch thin around your shaft. The way her thighs shake with the effort of controlling her descent. You can even see where you're splitting her open, where she's stretched to her limit around you.

The moment she bottoms out, taking you to the base, your hands fly to her waist. Your cock is buried so deep you swear you can see the faint outline of it pressing against her lower abdomen, distending her slightly from the inside.

You're rearranging her guts and she's fucking loving it.

Your jaw clenches, a low, wrecked groan spilling from your lips as you take in the sight before you. Her ass—round, perfect, jiggling slightly with each small adjustment. The dimples at the base of her spine. The way her pussy grips the base of your cock, her arousal seeping out around it, making the junction of your bodies a sticky, filthy mess.

Her ass bounces against you as she starts to move, the wet slapping sounds echoing in the room. Each time she lifts up, your cock emerges glistening, coated in her cream, only to disappear again as she drops back down. The suction of her body creates obscene noises—squelching, slurping sounds that should be embarrassing but only make you harder.

Your eyes trace lower, to the tight, puckered rim of her ass. It winks with each movement, clenching and relaxing as she works herself on your cock. A thin trickle of her own arousal has traveled up from her pussy, making it glisten invitingly in the dim light.

A rush of heat surges through you. You lift a hand to your mouth, gathering saliva, making sure it's wet enough, filthy enough. A long strand of spit trails from your lips to your thumb as you pull it away.

Then you press it against her ass, rubbing slow, teasing circles around the tight pucker. It's damp from her own juices running down, making your thumb glide easily against the sensitive skin. You feel her whole body jolt at the contact, her pussy clamping down around your cock in response.

She almost screams, her back arching sharply. You push your thumb in deeper, past the tight ring of muscle. The heat inside is scorching, the pressure intense as her body struggles to accommodate the intrusion. Her asshole grips your thumb like a vice, pulsing around it as she adjusts.

Two holes filled. Two ways to own her completely.

"Fuck—" she gasps, voice breaking into a whine. Her rhythm falters as her body processes the dual penetration, the overwhelming fullness of being stretched in two places at once.

You can feel your own cock through the thin membrane separating her passages—feel the rigid hardness of it pressing against your thumb. The knowledge that you're filling both her holes at once, stretching her to her limits, sends a primal surge of satisfaction through you.

She's dripping now—literally dripping. Each time she lifts herself up, a fresh gush of her arousal spills down, coating your balls, soaking into the sheets beneath you. The bed is getting drenched, the spot beneath you growing dark with the evidence of her need.

You take your other hand and trail it up her body, over the sweat-slick plane of her stomach, feeling the muscles jump under your touch. Her nipples are hard enough to cut glass, poking through the thin fabric like pebbles. You pinch one roughly, rolling it between your fingers, feeling her whole body clench in response.

She leans back against you, her spine a perfect arch, her head falling onto your shoulder. You can see the veins in her neck straining as she gasps for air, see the flush spreading across her chest, turning her skin a deep rose. Sweat drips from her hairline, tracing glistening paths down her temples, her neck, between her breasts.

Her nails dig into your thighs, breaking skin, leaving crescent-shaped welts as she uses you for leverage. She starts to bounce harder, faster, her control slipping. Each time she drops down, the impact forces a grunt from her lips, a primal sound torn from deep in her chest.

You can feel it—the way her walls are spasming around your cock, gripping erratically, her body starting to lose rhythm as she approaches the edge. She's soaking wet, her arousal making obscene squelching noises with each thrust. The sounds are pornographic—wet, sloppy, filthy—the soundtrack of two bodies using each other without restraint.

Your thumb presses deeper into her ass, timing the thrusts with the bouncing of her hips. Each time she drops down on your cock, you push in with your thumb, ensuring she feels stuffed from both ends. The double penetration has her babbling, incoherent sounds spilling from her lips as her brain short-circuits from the overload.

Her moans grow higher, more desperate. The pace is frantic now, almost brutal—her ass slapping against your thighs hard enough to sting, to leave both of you marked. The wet sounds grow louder, sloppier, as her body produces more slick, preparing for release.

She's going to flood the fucking bed when she comes.

The pleasure coils tight inside both of you, unbearable pressure building at the base of your spine, in your balls, making them draw up tight against your body. You're fighting it, gritting your teeth, determined to feel her break first.

Your grip tightens, fingers digging into the sweat-slick skin of her waist hard enough to leave bruises, marks that will last for days, reminding her who did this to her.

"Chaewon, I—"

She doesn't let you finish.

Her hands fly back, fingers wrapping tight around your wrists, pinning them down. She slams herself down onto you one final time—forcing you impossibly deep, grinding her ass against your pelvis in tight circles, making sure you feel every ripple, every clench of her inner walls.

A wrecked sound rips from your throat as your control shatters. Your cock pulses violently inside her, the first spurt of cum hitting deep, painting her insides. She feels it—you know she does, from the way her breath catches, from the way her cunt clamps down even tighter, milking you, demanding every last drop.

She gasps, her entire body seizing as her own orgasm hits. Her pussy convulses around your cock in rhythmic pulses, squeezing, releasing, each contraction drawing another jet of cum from you. Her thighs shake uncontrollably, her abs tightening so hard they cramp. Her asshole clenches rhythmically around your thumb, synchronized with the pulsing of her cunt.

She's cumming. Hard.

A gush of wetness floods around your cock, her release spilling out, soaking both of you further. It drips down, adding to the mess between your bodies, the evidence of her pleasure impossible to contain.

"F-fuck—" The word shatters in her throat, dissolving into a high, keening wail as another wave hits her, her body jerking like she's being electrocuted.

She's not just coming. She's fucking breaking.

Your vision blurs, tunnels, focuses only on where your bodies are joined, on the sight of her stuffed full of your cock, taking your load deep inside her. Each pulse of your release triggers another aftershock in her, creating a feedback loop of pleasure that seems endless.

You're emptying yourself into her, filling her with rope after rope of hot cum, more than you thought possible. Your balls ache from the force of it, your entire body trembling with the intensity of release.

Chaewon moans through it, her walls rippling around you, milking out every last drop. She's insatiable, greedy, her body designed to take everything you can give and demand more.

She takes all of it.

The only sounds in the room are ragged breathing, the wet squelch as she shifts slightly on your still-hard cock, and the faint dripping of her arousal onto the soaked sheets below. The air is thick with the musky scent of sex—sweat, cum, her arousal, all mixing into a heady cocktail that makes your head spin.

Finally, she exhales, stretching like a satisfied cat. Her back arches, pressing her ass more firmly against you, causing your still-sensitive cock to shift inside her. The movement squeezes a few final drops from you, adding to the mess already filling her.

She breathes out a satisfied sigh, lips curving into something dark, smug, victorious.

"I'm keeping it inside," she murmurs, voice low, syrupy, ruined. Her internal muscles clench deliberately around you, making sure not a drop escapes.

Her hips shift—a slow, final roll—grinding down, sending another wave of overstimulation tearing through your body. You groan, oversensitive to the point of pain, but unable to pull away. She's got you trapped, her body still locked around yours, refusing to release you until she's ready.

She doesn't care about your discomfort. She loves it. Loves knowing she can push you past your limits.

"For the rest of the party," she purrs, squeezing around you one last time. You can feel your cum inside her, hot and thick, adding to the slickness each time she clenches. "Walking around downstairs with your cum dripping into my panties. Right in front of everyone."

Her ultimate victory. Carrying the proof of what you've done together while looking Eunbi in the eye.

---

The bass pounds through the floor, vibrating up through your feet as you lean against the wall, nodding along to whatever Eunbi is saying. For the past thirty minutes, you've been following her through the party, a dutiful boyfriend with a plastic cup of whatever Yena mixed, pretending you're fully present. Pretending you can't still feel the ghost of Chaewon's body on yours. Pretending there isn't a hollow ache in your stomach every time the crowd shifts and you catch a glimpse of brown hair and sequins across the room.

Eunbi takes a sip of her water—she stopped drinking an hour ago—and checks her watch for the third time in ten minutes. The party has hit that point where the music gets louder to compensate for the thinning crowd, where people are either leaving or getting sloppy. She doesn't belong to either category.

"I think I'm ready to go," she says, leaning in so you can hear her over a particularly aggressive bass drop. "I'm getting tired."

The way she says it—gentle, apologetic—makes the guilt twist deeper. She thinks she's the one inconveniencing you. She has no idea.

"Yeah, of course," you reply, finishing your drink in one long swallow, needing the burn in your throat to ground you. "Let me just grab your coat."

As Eunbi gathers her things, you scan the room, knowing you shouldn't, knowing you can't help it. You find Chaewon by the drinks table, hair slightly mussed despite her efforts to fix it, lips still swollen from your kisses. Your eyes meet across the crowd, and the corner of her mouth lifts in that familiar smirk.

You look away first.

"Ready?" Eunbi asks, coat draped over her arm.

Before you can answer, Chaewon materializes beside you, as if summoned by your weakness.

"Leaving so soon?" She directs the question at Eunbi, her voice innocent, her eyes anything but when they flick to you.

"Yeah, I'm tired," Eunbi says, smiling at her friend. "Great party though."

Chaewon laughs, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "You barely participated! Next time I'll make sure it's more your speed."

She hugs Eunbi, their cheeks pressing together, their perfumes mingling. Over Eunbi's shoulder, Chaewon's eyes lock with yours, dark and knowing. Her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip, and you know she's thinking about what you did, what you released inside her—still there, still warm.

"Text me tomorrow?" Eunbi asks her as they pull apart.

"Of course," Chaewon nods, then turns to you. "You take care of her, okay?"

The double meaning hangs in the air between you. Her hand brushes yours as she steps back—a touch so brief Eunbi doesn't notice, but enough to make your pulse spike.

As you lead Eunbi toward the door, you feel Chaewon's eyes following you. You know this isn't over. You know that on Monday, when you see her in class, when you sit across from her at lunch with Eunbi between you, the game will continue.

You know you've made your choice, even if you won't admit it yet.

The truth is painfully simple: Eunbi is smart, perfect, and right.

But Chaewon's still hot as fuck, and that's the problem.

[vampirq]

thinking about accidentally overstimulating yourself with sevika! ..

she’ll have you folded into a mating press, knees pressed to your chest. her hips connecting with yours at a punishing pace. each thrust sending you further into a deeper state of euphoria.

“you look so pretty, doll. shit,” she groans, keeping her eyes focused on your expression. “so perfect, so pretty.”

obviously, you can’t respond. sevika’s strap ramming into you stops any effort for words, all you can do is relax and submit to her. you use the little bit of strength left in your body to raise your head and meet her gaze, it’s lustful, almost animalistic. her bottom lip is tucked in between her teeth, eyebrows furrowed, and her pupils are blown out.

she smirks when she sees your face, a breathy laugh colliding with the sound of skin slapping. “mine, all fuckin’ mine.”

her head leans down to the valley of your breast, biting and sucking small marks into it. mumbles tumbling out of her mouth, but you could barely hear her. her mech hand reaches up and takes both of your wrists in her hand, pinning it above your head. while her other hand lowers to your clit, her thumb rubbing small circles against it.

the dual sensation is more than enough to bring you the edge. your body trembles underneath, strings of her name filling the room. “sev— fuck, sevvy i’m so close, gonna cum!” your head falls back against the pillow, all the tension in your body starting to float away.

“yeah, angel? gonna make a mess all over me, come on, pretty girl.”

sevika’s lips crash into yours, swallowing up all of your moans. her thrusts become deeper as your release spills out of you, forming a white ring around the silicone cock. tears brim at your eyelids, the feeling of overstimulation washing over you. you push your hips down into the mattress, a feeble attempt to escape her but the act just earns a slap to the thigh.

“vika, i can’t, can’t take it!” you whine, your breath picking up in pace. you know you could stop at any time, just say the word and it’s over. but another part of you likes it. likes the feeling over being pushed to the edge, being manhandled and forced to coax another orgasm out of you.

you didn’t notice sevika’s thrust come to a slow, no longer pounding into you. in your head, she still was. she lets out another light chuckle, placing a hand on your hips, watching how you’re pushing into her. it’s ironic really, complaints about how she’s being too rough and you can’t take it when in reality, you’re doing all the work.

“really? ‘cause, uh, you’re fucking me, doll.”

you look down and shit, she was right. your hips were pushing against her strap, sucking her in deeper. a wave of embarrassment washes over you, your skin suddenly becoming hot to the touch.

sevika smirks, leaning down so her lips brushed against your ear. “don’t worry, i’ll fuck you harder. just like you wanted, right?”

🏷️ : @samcvrpenters @ellieslosttwofingers @moonylvs @pornoangelz @thedxxthnotes

[hy6erion]

I have just been having the worst (maybe best who knows) ideas about Viktor with a breeding kink.

Oh anon, you’ve just sent me into a spiral (≧◡≦)!! Viktor with a breeding kink?? Whispering in that sweet accent about keeping you full, making sure it takes… oh no, I’m doomed <33

Fic under the cut (´ ω `♡)

⇢ 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭, 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐫

It starts the way most things do with Viktor—an observation, a hypothesis, a slow descent into obsession.

You noticed the shift in him before he did. The way his hands lingered on your hips longer than usual, the way his sharp golden eyes trailed down your body, calculating. Viktor has always been touch-starved, but this was different.

It wasn’t until one late night in the lab, when he had you pressed against the desk, your legs hooked over his forearm, that you heard the first slip of it.

“Look at you…” he murmured, his breath hot against your throat, each word thick with reverence. His hips snapped forward, slow and deep, pushing himself as far inside as he could reach. His fingers dug into your waist, holding you still, trapping you. “Taking me so well. So eager, hm? Such a perfect thing… meant to be filled.”

Your breath hitched, nails digging into his back as heat coiled in your belly. His words alone sent a shiver through you, a molten need pooling between your thighs.

“Viktor—”

“I wonder…” His pace quickened, just slightly, enough to make you feel every inch of him dragging against your walls. “If I keep you like this, over and over… would you swell with my child?”

Your moan was immediate, head falling back against the desk.

Viktor groaned, his grip on you tightening like a vice. “You like that, don’t you?” His voice was unsteady, broken with desire. “The thought of it—of carrying something we created?” His hand splayed over your lower belly possessively, his thumb brushing over the sensitive skin. “Mine.”

You clenched around him, and he felt it. The way you pulsed at his words, your body responding to the very idea.

His control snapped.

He gritted his teeth, a growl ripping from his throat as he buried himself as deep as he could go, his pace turning desperate. His breath came in short, needy pants against your ear, his forehead pressed to yours.

“I will make sure of it,” he whispered, voice raw with determination. “Again and again, until it takes.”

His thrusts became erratic, the sharp slap of skin-on-skin echoing through the lab. Every movement, every broken gasp was filled with intent—this wasn’t just pleasure, this was purpose.

His fingers tangled with yours, pinning your hands to the desk as he pushed, stretching you around him with every brutal roll of his hips.

“You will look beautiful like that,” he groaned, his voice dark, reverent. “Round, full of me… a true creation of science and love?”

Your body tensed, the coil inside you winding impossibly tight. The way he spoke—like he was designing the future with every thrust—sent you over the edge with a cry, your walls fluttering around him.

Viktor cursed, his body stiffening. His hips stuttered once, twice—then he was spilling inside you with a deep, shuddering groan, pressing himself flush against you like he could make it stay.

For a long moment, all you could hear was the ragged sound of your breaths mingling, the warmth of him settling deep inside you.

And then, Viktor let out a breathless chuckle, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“…We should do this again,” he mused, voice still heavy with exhaustion and something far more dangerous—satisfaction. His fingers traced lazy circles over your lower belly, his golden eyes gleaming with quiet possessiveness. “Just to be certain.”

And just like that, his obsession had a new purpose.

[mv1simp]

Often ♥️

Mafia!Max Verstappen x Reader

she asked me if I do this everyday, I said often (asked her how many times she rode the wave, not so often)

You’re a hard working, intelligent medical student - at the top of her class. Desperate to pay off your debts, you end up bartending in Monaco’s most exclusive nightclub….and catch the eye of the mafia boss who runs half the city, Max Verstappen. And now that he’s found you, he’s never letting you go.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, dom/sub themes, dark mafia!max, innocent student! reader tryna pay her bills, sugar daddy vibes

It had truly meant to be a one time thing. You’d been strapped for cash, as per usual - stretching yourself thin with your overpriced rent in your tiny one bedroom apartment in a dodgy area, with your utility bills, your parent’s monthly mortgage payments. And of course, the costliest expense of all was your goddamn medical degree. You were in your final year, so close to the end that you could almost taste it.

Maybe that’s what made you say yes to one of the other tutors you work with at your university tutoring job, when she sees you at your second job later than evening tidying up at a local clinic, and then your third the next morning where you hand her a fresh iced coffee you’ve brewed. You know, she says in a hushed tone, leaning in rather conspiratorially. You’re going to work yourself to the bone, with three jobs and putting yourself through med school?

You wave her off with a practised cheerful smile, used to hiding your tiredness from your peers who all thought of you as a model student. But when she persisted, texting you the details of her mysterious cousin who worked at some bar downtown and earned one thousands dollars in a single night…you couldn’t help but being intrigued. You were cautious about it, of course, asking to meet the cousin - Layla - at the coffee shop you worked at. And when she told you about the VIP club, JimmyZ, that she worked at - nothing like those sleazy stripclubs downtown, she hastily reassured, seeing the nervous look on your face. No, JimmyZ was an exclusive club, only for the rich and elite who enjoyed throwing stacks of cash for bags of cocaine and exotic dancers. That’s what Layla called herself, but you still privately think it’s a glorified term for a stripper, as you watch her on stage from your corner in the bar with mixed feelings of awe at how sexy she looks, and discomfort from the sleazy gazes on her.

You’d somehow been talked into helping bartend for a night, Layla having mentioned that you were the perfect girl for the kind of men who came to JimmyZ. At your insulted expression, she giggled, saying that she was trying to saw you had an angelic, natural beauty about you, exactly the kind of authenticity the clientele liked to see instead of the more artificial look found at cheaper clubs. You looked at her skeptically, but still ended up lured in to try and make your rent that month. And after your first night, where you noted impressive amounts of security protecting the gorgeous dancing girls on stage, you felt yourself seduced by the offer of a single night at JimmyZ making up for an entire weeks of your previous job’s earning.

So before you knew it, you’d been working steadily for a couple of months now, finding yourself at a familiar ease behind the bar as you expertly poured drinks and humming the sensual music. You loved the job, with its high pay meaning you had time to focus on your studies again, and last month you’d even topped your class in one of your exams! Of course, it came with its risks - you worked well through the middle of busy weekend nights, many curious and lustful gazes on you from men who enjoyed the skimpy bartender uniform you had to wear. A tight, low cut white button up shirt that showed off your cleavage, and a miniskirt that came dangerously close to flashing someone when you bent over, paired with heeled knee high boots. It was certainly not the type of usual thing you wore, with your conservative full sleeve tops and flattering jeans with scuffed converse that you recycled constantly given your tight budget. But after some adjusting of your long curls hiding your cleavage and avoiding any eye contact skittishly with any man who looked at you too closely, you found yourself falling into an easy rhythm at work.

Until one evening, a Friday night before some big racing event in the city, meaning the club was even more packed that usual with clubgoers overflowing out the entrance and bass thumping down the street. Your boss had found you as you checked in for your late night shift, rapidly saying something about how the owner was visiting tonight and there weren't enough girls for the show, could you help out just this once-

Despite your adamant protests and squeaks that you absolutely could not, would not go on stage, you find yourself shoved into the backstage room to get ready, or risk losing your job permanently, your boss says meanly before storming off. Your lip trembles in anxiety, at the thought of someone recognising you tonight and then seeing you working as a doctor after your graduated. You'd lose your reputation before you could even start your career. You feel lost in the bright makeup room, surrounded by stunning, slim women who had their hair blown own perfectly and makeup done to perfection. You never imagined that you'd have to be up on stage with the beautiful dancers, who you looked so plain standing next too. A few toss you sympathetic looks but are too busy getting ready themselves to help you - until Layla enters and catches sight of your shaking form. She scowls when you tearfully tell her what the boss had said, but gives you a firm pep talk as she quickly helps you get ready. You've barely used any of the dozens of makeup products she has open on the counter, never having had any money to spend on nice clothes or jewellery to spoil yourself with.

But you feel yourself start to settle as she hands you a shot of tequila, then another for confidence, as she guides you through how to navigate the stage, how it was all about faking it till you make it!

You nod determinedly as she coaches you, before quickly getting change into a glittery strappy piece of fabric she hands you, with strappy heels to match. It takes you a few minutes to adjust to the height, but you find yourself being able to walk comfortably in them. When you come out from the side room to show Layla, the rest of the girls in the room stop in their tracks and look at you with renewed interest, yelling out whoops of encouragements about how hot you looked, girl! You flush with the praise, eyeing yourself in the mirror every few minutes as this pretty girl you didn't recognise stared at you. With lush, long curls styled messily, and wide, doe eyed eyes framed in smoky liner and glittery eyeshadow, and full, pouty glossed lips. And your body, which you'd been feeling so insecure about compared to the other dancers, looked undeniably sexy in a shimmery gold minidress that was so short it showed off the swell of your thick ass and chubby thighs invitingly. See, Layla says rather smugly as she comes up behind you. I told you, face of an angel with a body of a dancer. The audience is going to go feral for you.

And she was right, when an hour later and another practise session later, this time with the aid of the other dancers as they critiqued your form, you find yourself on one of the three stages the club had throughout its two levels. If there’s one thing you pride yourself on, it’s being a quick learner. You relax, letting yourself get lost in the music as a sensual song by The Weeknd croons over the speakers. The other girls had told you that dancing could also be fun, empowering, and make you feel in control - and you know understood what they meant as you sway your body enticingly on the stage, running your hands across your tits where your cleavage shows through the low neckline. At least in a club like JimmyZ, which had the reputation of luxury and class to uphold, the dancers wore skimpy outfits but never got fully naked like at a proper stripclub. You made full use of this small mercy, giving teasing flashes of your cleavage and ass but never actually taking your tiny glittery dress off. You could feel dozens of eyes fixed on every movement you made, every toss of your curls, every breathy sigh and bounce of your ass as you let yourself get lost in the beat.

But there's one set of piercing blue eyes that you keep finding your wide eyes returning to curiously. A man you’ve never seen before is seated in one of the VIP lounges a level above and directly in front of your elevated stage. He’s tall and muscular, with messy blonde hair and the most gorgeous eyes you’ve ever seen. And to pull it off, he’s lounging comfortable on a leather sofa, well dressed in a fitted white shirt and jeans, his intense gaze roaming over your dancing body while everyone around him was standing up and hollering towards the dancers on the stage.

He looked like a lion amongst the pack of sheep, and you couldn’t help but bat your lashes in his direction just a bit more as a spark of attraction flutters within you. You've never felt so desirable in your life, and the rush it gives you is addictive. Your show is over before you know it, with enthused yells and demands for an Encore! from the frenzied crowd around your stage as clubgoers migrated to see your show instead of the two others. You giggle coyly, finding this new, confident side of yourself so much more fun than your usual run down, shy one. Stacks of paper notes have been tossed up on your stage and the bouncers dutifully collect it up to bring to you backstage. You blow a kiss into the air for the crowd, but your eyes don’t leave the gorgeous mystery man’s when you do so.

Afterwards, the other girls are laughing and excitedly hugging you backstage, oohing over the stacks of money you’d made and saying you needed to start dancing as a regular at the club, you’d instantly become a favourite! As you giggled their encouragement off, the mood suddenly soured when your boss strode in and said there’s been a request for a private show.

This was the darker, naughtier side of JimmyZ - only offered to the filthy rich VIP clients who could afford the outrageous hourly rate for the prized, beautiful dancers at the club. You’d walked past the closed VIP lounge doors before, your face turning red from the excited moans of male and female pleasure and lewd sounds. It was highly secret, of course, so you’d never known to much about what it fully involved. But you’d have to get to know it tonight, when your boss's finger points past everyone to land on you, to say the request is for our latest dancer, who’s been hiding how much of a natural she is!

Your quickly shake your head, saying you weren’t comfortable with anything more - but your boss says you might want to hear how much he's offering to pay, first. I turned him down, too, saying you weren't one of the regular dancers...but he's very certain he can make it worth your while. When you hear the figure being offered, specifically just for you, your jaw drops. It's enough to pay your shitty rent for two whole months.

You still feel uneasy, because dancing was one thing but to go to a private room was another, and you weren't sure how you felt about using your body for money. In the end, you find yourself curious to go, to get that addictive feeling of desirability and swayed by the security of the income. You’re fully in control, Layla reassures, there’s security in the room the whole time if the client gets touchy. You just have to undress a bit, down to your underwear and give them a show, maybe a lap dance or two. Nothing more than a quick handjob at most, she insists. Then, seeing your face go red as you stammer in response, she pauses to ask that you had done that before, right?

You nod your head quickly, saying yes, of course, I'm 23! You’re too embarrassed to tell her that even though you’re in college, you’ve barely had any sexual experiences and have never had a boyfriend. There was never any time with all the jobs you worked and your full time degree. You’ve had quick, forgettable and sloppy drunk hookups, with uncomfortable fingering that didn’t make you cum or half hearted handjobs at frat parties. You’ve never had sex before, but you know there’s no point freaking out about that now when you’re commited to getting paid tonight. Besides, it was just a quick lap dance probably on some middle aged divorced guy, right?

You can do this, you tell yourself internally, this was nothing compared to dancing in front of hundred of strangers. Maybe this month you’d finally be able to buy some nice dresses and heels to treat yourself with. It can feel good, too Layla had added as she helped you touch up your lip gloss. For your own pleasure, I mean. If you let it, she says with a wink. Remember, you're in control!

When you finally enter the VIP room that night, you're shocked at the man who awaits you. Because it was certainly no sleazy middle aged man. The gorgeous blue eyed blonde from earlier looks up from his conversation at you, his lips quirking up as he sees your golden minidress sparkle in the dim light. You’re too caught off guard to move, but once he dismissed the other men he was talking to with a tilt of his hand, he beckons you over. With a backwards glance to make sure the bouncer stands guard at the door, you take a seat on the comfortable sofa next to him.

It turns out the mystery man isn't just handsome, but friendly, and funny too, with an infectious laugh that makes your heart race. He introduced himself as Max, in a delicious low Dutch accent, and offers you a drink. You politely decline, not wanting to be too disinhibited, but he pours you a glass of expensive whiskey to match the one in his hand anyways. When he asks you for your name, you give him a fake one - but his eyes darken as he tells you he doesn’t think you’re telling him the truth. I’ll call you whatever I want, then, he hums. Schatje seems very fitting for an angel like you. I hope you don’t mind that I asked to see you personally tonight. But the way you danced, I was completely entranced. And then when I saw your pretty face, these big doe eyes...well, I knew I had to meet you. No matter the cost.

You flush under the compliment from such an attractive man, now comfortably sipping on your whiskey. You're the one who's meant to be pleasing him, but it seemed he was more focused on your pleasure. He relaxes you into a surprisingly easy conversation, making you laugh with funny stories about his two house cats. How cute, you say wistfully when he shows you his saved album on his phone. You miss the way his icy eyes hungrily glance down your tempting neckline as you admire the photos, taking advantage of the angle. The tension eases from your stiff form and soon you find yourself leaning in closer to the tall, muscular blonde.

You’re a very charming talker, Max, you say coyly, your newfound confidence emerging as your attraction for him grows. I think you’ve earned your reward. He smirks as you easily climb onto his broad lap, gasping slightly from the feeling of his strong, muscular thighs beneath your soft ones. Soon you’re performing your little routine, giggling and tossing your hair, running wandering hands over yourself, squeezing your juicy tits so they popped in your small hands and make Max’s gaze narrow with desire. Layla had been right. You did feel in complete control, and your pussy throbbed in interest at the gorgeous man whose lap you sat on.

He leans back to appreciate the view and you feel lust cloud your senses from the addicting feeling of those heated blue eyes on you, mixing with the heady feeling from the expensive whiskey he’d offered. And then his fingers are skimming your waist, sending electric sparks shooting from the lightest of touches. You’re not supposed to touch, Max you say with a teasing voice, your playful smile giving away how you really felt. When you untie your dress straps, letting it fall down your waist to show him your chest, barely covered in a see through lacy bra, he lets out a low groan. C’mon, schat, he murmurs huskily. I’m meant to see the prettiest tits in my life and not even kiss them?

You giggle again, running small hands down his shirt as you slowly unbutton him to reveal a muscular, broad chest. He smirks as he watches you bite your lip as your eyes wander all the way down to his blonde happy trail, where your curious fingers have now stopped. What’s the matter, baby, he teases a little twistedly, because he knows exactly what’s stopping you. Never done this before?

You flush, but shake your head adamantly and denying his claim. Of course I have, you say with a defiant look, the competitive nature rising up as you continue to unzip his jeans. He finds your determination so cute, how hard you’re trying to please him, but you give your innocence away with a sudden gasp when his erect cock jumps out of his boxers to rest against his lower abs. It’s so big, you say with a tinge of nerves in your voice at the sight of his drooling, angry red rip. He distracts you with soft kisses to your neck, your cheeks before pressing his lips gently to yours. You can’t resist him either, leaning back in to recapture him in a deeper kiss as you two begin sloppily making out. It’s starting to feel so good, the way his skilled tongue explores your willing mouth, that you eagerly nod when he murmurs he’ll show you how to make him feel good, yeah?

And when his large hand takes yours and presses it right in between his large, spread thighs, he captures your gasps with his lips. He guides your trembling hands over his huge cock, one hand encircling both your palms around him, whispering naughty things in your ear. There you go, sweetheart, right from the tip and then down to the base in a twist, just like that. When you get confident and cutely spit a small glob on his shaft to start pumping him more furiously, he praises you even more. Fuck, you’re a natural, just perfect for me.

You blush under the praise, and together you both watch his cock swell even more with your dedicated handjob. He can’t resist giving you a deep kiss again as he sees the concentrated expression on your face. Doing so good for me, babygirl, Max murmurs as he breaks away for a second, admiring your swollen lips and dazed eyes. Here, let me make you feel good too, hmm?

You squeal in shock as his lips latch right onto your already hard nipples. Ma-Max! No touching, remember! You try to remind him breathlessly. He swirls his tongue around your areolas, one hand still guiding you to jerk him off and his other expertly squeezing and massaging your heaving tits. You very quickly find yourself distracted from his rule break as he spoils your sensitive nipples with attention. So distracted that you stop your handjob, making him pull away again and you whine from the loss of his talented tongue. He resists smirking as you practically push your jiggling tits in his face, your doe eyes begging him for more. I didn’t say you could stop jerking me off, baby, he says in mock disapproval. If you’re not going to be a good girl then you’ll have to say sorry some other way.

You tilt your head in confusion at his statement, when his strong hand tangles into your pretty curls and gently but firmly pushes your head down. Your eyes widen as you realise what he’s asking of you, and you stammer and try to weakly protest. It’s not that you aren’t into this; if anything, Max is the first guy you’ve ever felt such instant chemistry with. No - it’s that this feels so fast, too much too quick for your inexperience and self consciousness. You haven’t even processed just how far he’s planning on taking this and that technically you were selling yourself at some nightclub for his money. Besides, wasn’t there meant to be a guard here to stop the clients going too far? But when you quickly turn your head to look, Max’s hand relaxing briefly to let you peer around, you find yourself only becoming more anxious.

Because there’s no one else in the room.

Where did he go, you say, confused. I don’t understand, I thought he has to keep watch-Schatje, Max murmurs smoothly into your ear. I’m a possessive man. Did you really think I was going to let anyone else get a glimpse of what’s underneath your pretty dress? You gasp, heartbeat now fluttering rapidly from the confession that he’d been so taken with you with one look he wanted you all to himself. You’re half terrified of how much power this man seems to have, and half dizzy with pleasure that he finds you so desirable that he wants to stake his claim. He takes his time working you up again, running hands that were more like a lion’s large paws over your curves while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, asking if you were ready to be a good girl for him.

A thought plants in your head then, as you nod obediently, and he presses a kiss to your curls to lower your head into his lap again. That Max wasn’t the sweet, gorgeous guy next door type he looked to be. No, this was someone with serious power and money, who apparently controlled the ins and outs of the most luxurious nightclub in the city as if it was his own. And tonight, for whatever reason, he wanted you.

It was just one night, right? You let yourself relax and get lost in the unfamiliar pleasure as you reassure yourself.

This time, your glossy pink lips part easily as you leave curious kitten licks to his cockhead, taking in the salty taste of his precum. He immediately groaned, head tilting back against the sofa as he rasped at you to stop teasing.

You hum in response, sending vibrations through his shaft as you press wet kisses down it. You’re obediently following all the orders he gives to you as he strokes your hair almost gently, licking him up and down. When you finally take him into your mouth, he moans your name in approval, praising how good you were being. But you can barely take half of his length, already feeling your mouth stretch and struggling to breath. Let me take over, baby he says with a dark smirk, and within a second he’s lifted you up and deposited you on the floor, in between his spread legs. You’re trapped by muscular thighs as his grip tightens on you, and then he’s thrusting his hips right to the back of your throat. Fuck yes, there you go, just like that sweetheart, he encourages with a low groan, drowning out your high pitched whines with his jackhammering movements. Mmmh! Obscene, wet sounds of your mouth drooling all over him fills the air, as you choke on the largest cock you’d ever seen. You’re gripping onto him for dear life, your teary eyes making mascara run down your cheeks and only making him more turned on as he ruins your innocent, doe eyed look. And when he cums you don’t expect it, your mouth flooded with unfamiliar white cream that he covers your chubby, blushing cheeks and bouncing tits with as he pulls out mid release and makes a complete mess of your pretty makeup. Heavy pants fill the air as he comes down from his high, looking down at you with raw desire and approval. His thumb swipes his cum off your pouty lips and slides into your lips, smirking when you obediently suck on his finger. You wouldn’t have been able to tell it’s your first time, he teases.

After you clean yourself up in the private bathroom, too embarrassed to look at your positively debauched appearance in the mirror, you find Max signing a cheque that he folds in half that he discreetly leaves on the table. But before he leaves after apologising as he has business to attend to, bending down to your petite frame to give you a sweet kiss, he offers you a deal. To quit your job and be his private dancer, every night…and in turn he’d spoil you with whatever money or gifts your heart desired.

You decline, of course, telling him this was just a one time thing, you weren’t planning on dancing here ever again. He smirks, giving you a final appreciate once over, before declaring that was obvious, he wasn’t going to let another man see you dance like that again.

You don’t see him for a few weeks after that, and it’s almost as if that electric night had never happened at all. Things go back to normal and you resume your bartending job - although you notice that there is significantly more security hovering around your counter than before. But every night Max revisits you in your dreams, making you breathlessly moan from the memory of how good his tongue and hands felt on you, how they might feel inside you next time….you’d always wake up with damp panties.

And then one night everything changes, when a rowdy patron manages to get past the security guards and leer in your face. He remembers you from the dance show and when you try to move away he grabs onto your ass, telling you he wants another sexy performance, he demands with a pervy sneer, I know you secretly liked all the attention, like a slut.

The guards manage to get him off you but you’re shaken with how persistent the man had been. So shaken that you don’t realise the staff have pulled you into a side room until Max is in front of you, asking if you were okay with an intense gaze. He offers you his promise again, to provide for you and protect you - if you became his.

You’re annoyed with him, for just barging in and acting like you were some damsel. You hotly tell him that you're an independent girl, who wasn't going to let him have her in exchange for safety. I can take care of myself! He watched you walk off with a dark gaze, his blue eyes roaming your curves that he was desperate to get underneath him. And whatever Max Verstappen wanted, he always got.

The very next day chills run through your blood as the rowdy patron somehow turns up at your university campus. You quickly hide before he sees you, heart rate spiking as you realise he's found out who you are. Your pride melts away as you dial the number Max's men had put onto your phone despite your protests. Now, you're thankful that they did as a husky Dutch accent picks up. You're a mess on the call, crying and asking Max to please come and help-

I'm on my way, schatje. Go hide somewhere safe. After you hang up you realize you never told him where you were. But it doesn't matter, because the Dutch Lion is there within minutes, stepping out of a sleek black Aston Martin that looks like it costs more than all 5 years of your student debt. Your stalker doesn't stand a chance as he's pushed into a back alley easily by Max, who re-emerges a few moments later discreetly tucking what you're pretty sure is a handgun into his belt. You stare in stunned silence as he gestures to some men who have appeared to clean up whatever mess he left behind, before guiding you with a firm hand on your lower back into his luxurious car.

Still want to turn down what I can offer you, schatje? he murmurs lowly as he smoothly drives you home, his large hand resting on your thigh. And you realise that you don't, because for the first time in your life you don't have to fight tooth and nail to protect yourself. No - because Max had just proved he was willing to do that for you.

So you let yourself be worshipped, be cared for by him. And he knew how skittish you got, and started with baby steps - paying your phone bills, your groceries, and then your rent. Buying whatever handbag or necklace you would happen to briefly admire when walking past a shop, getting you a cute but outrageously expensive car so you stopped taking the train. And you can't lie about how good it feels to walk into class wearing diamond earrings and the Louboutin heels you'd always wanted, to have your mean classmates look at you in awe and envy.

And so when Max insisted that he couldn't let you stay at the dump you called a home any longer, that it was just unsafe for a sweet, precious thing like yourself - you barely resisted and moved into his spacious penthouse apartment. Truly, he gave you whatever you wanted, his toy that he spoils and lavishes however she likes - and at night, lets him climb into her bed to fuck however he wants. And oh, did he fuck you good. It became a habit for you to greet him after his late night meetings with a sweet kiss on the cheek and a gin on the rocks in your hand - which he would drink with you sitting on his lap, telling him animatedly about your day. And of course, he’d get to unwrap his present when he pulls off your silk nightie and widens his legs for you to kneel between them. Dressed in pretty pastel scraps of French lace you buy with his credit card, you’re dutifully slurping and kissing his thick, swollen cock and slapping it against your cheeks. You knew how much Max loved seeing his cum drip down your face and you’d make sure to wear extra eyeliner and lipgloss so he could enjoy the sight of you utterly ruined for him, stroking your mascara tear stained cheeks as you choke on his length. Such a fast learner, schatje Max chuckles at you, stroking your hair almost lovingly but the roughness of his thrusts anything but.

And most of all, you loved when Max would pick you up from class and casually announce that he was taking you away for the weekend. You’d been confused at first, stressed about the study time you were missing out on, but once you sit down in his private jet with you laptop and textbooks in hand you realise you’re truly going to be taken care of in every way. It’s impossible to resist the urge to give back the same to Max, to show him just how much affection you’ve started growing for him. So on those nights in some tropical island resort, with the breeze blowing in through open doors, you give him a free use pass. Whatever he wanted, however he wanted it - all weekend long. It’s to no surprise that you’re chained to the headboard within the hour, thighs tightly tied up around your waist so you’re spread open for him and he could see the wetness dripping through your lace thong. You’re whining, so embarrassed by how intently his heated gaze roams over your body that it’s a relief when he blindfolds you with his tie, and clips a collar around your neck with his initials gleaming from it. He teases you mercilessly, taking you right to the edge with his fingers or tongue but stopping just before you cum, until you’re screaming his name and begging him to fuck you already. And then he takes you for so many rounds that you’re crying for him to stop, it’s too much Maxie, you can’t cum a fourth time-

It’s safe to say you’ve grown into your place by Max’s side very well. You knew what others thought, from the jealous looks from your classmates when his Aston Martin rolls onto campus or the judgemental stares from other vacationers when you obediently sit in Max’s lap while he takes his business calls, dressed in a skimpy bikini and his collar that he absentmindedly traces before moving down to possessively curl his hand on your hip. But you couldn’t care less if they thought you were a trophy girlfriend or a sugar baby - because after all, he was the one wrapped around your pretty little finger, ready to wage a war if you so much as shed a tear.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[delilahsturniolo]

— ୨୧ matt apologizes to you after an argument

contains angst, fluff.

silence filled the room as you sat on matt’s bed, with your knees tucked to your chest. your gaze was focused on your lap, as your eyes glossed over with tears. all you could even think about was matt, guilt filled your chest. you hated when someone you loved was mad at you, especially your own boyfriend. you and matt had gotten into a pretty heated argument a few hours ago about not having enough time for each other.

there was yelling, screaming, crying. it was something that’s been haunting you for the past few hours, something you just wanted to be over. matt never ever dared to yell at you, and you never wanted to argue with him in the first place. it was all just built up stress and frustration from the past few days, and you just had an outburst. matt decided to leave you alone for now, you were too upset for him to talk to you.

you sniffled, letting out a soft sob as your warm tears spilled over. you felt so fucking guilty, you hadn’t even shown matt how much you loved him in the past few days, you had been so busy and stressed out. you understood why he was angry, you just wished you could do better. as you cried to yourself, you abruptly stopped as you heard a soft knock on the door. matt.

“baby? are you in here?” matt spoke, his voice as soft as a whisper. you sniffled, wiping your tears sloppily. “yeah.” your voice broke, fuck. matt noticed this, he knew you were crying, and it devastated him. he never wanted to make you cry in the first place. “is it okay if i come in?” matt asked, you let out a small “mhm”, sitting up properly as matt entered the room.

the door slowly creaked open, matt shut it behind him after he walked in. his gaze immediately went over to you, he was no longer angry, now he just wanted to make things right, he wanted to show you how much he cared, despite the fact that he was still a little upset about earlier. matt sighed softly, sitting down on his bed in front of you. “look at me.” matt instructed, his voice softer than earlier, but still firm.

matt gently brushed a piece of your hair behind your ears as you slowly looked up at him. his heart sank at the sight of your puffy eyes and tear streaked face. “i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. i shouldn’t have yelled at you.” matt blurted out, the guilt was eating him up inside, it was unbearable. “i’m not here to hurt you, i want you to know i love you, okay?” matt gently leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling you into his arms. you nodded, muttering a small “i love you” as you allowed yourself to completely collapse in matt’s arms, you both knew you couldn’t stay mad at each other forever.

“i’m sorry too, i just wish i could be better for you.” you muttered, sniffling into matt’s shoulder. he only shook his head, making you lift your head up to look at him. “you’re doing amazing, honey. you didn’t do anything wrong, you’re perfect the way you are, and i love you more than anything, alright? don’t worry about it right now, you have nothing to be sorry for.” matt reassured you, you immediately felt better, realizing how much he cared for you.

matt delicately hushed you, his hand rubbing your back in circular motions as you rested your head on his shoulder. you were just tired now, so much relief filled your body. “you can sleep, sweetheart. i’ll be here.” matt hummed quietly, rocking you back and forth in his arms.

despite how bad you guys fought, you still loved each other. despite how upset matt was at you earlier, he was still madly in love with you. he was mature enough to apologize first, even though sometimes you could be stubborn after fighting, you knew matt didn’t mean anything at all. matt’s top priority as of right now was making sure you knew how much he cared about you, and how he was no longer angry with you. he loved you so much.

© delilahsturniolo do not copy, re use, or modify any of my works.

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[kathaelipwse]

More Than Best Friends | L.Minho

Synopsis: After being abandoned by your boyfriend upon discovering your pregnancy, you struggle to navigate motherhood alone—until your best friend, Lee Know, steps in. As he becomes your greatest support and the perfect father figure for your daughter, buried feelings resurface. But will you have the courage to confess that you have fallen in love with him?

Warnings: Just fluff honestly-

Word count: 1.1k

Authors Note: Ah!! Lino as a girl dad <33

The pregnancy test sat on the bathroom counter, its two pink lines staring back at you like a reality you weren’t ready to accept. You felt your breath hitch as you sat on the floor, your arms wrapped around your knees. This wasn’t supposed to happen—at least, not like this. Your boyfriend, or rather, the man who was supposed to love you, had left as soon as you told him.

“I can’t do this,” he had said. “I’m not ready to be a father.”

And just like that, he was gone.

For days, you kept it to yourself, pushing away the one person you knew would see right through you—Lee Know, your best friend since childhood. If you told him, he’d worry, and you didn’t want to burden him. He had his own dreams, his own life to focus on.

So you avoided him.

You ignored his texts, dodged his calls, and canceled every plan you made. It wasn’t easy. Lee Know was persistent, showing up at your apartment unannounced, but you always found an excuse to push him away. He never pried, but you knew he was hurting.

Yet, even as you tried to keep your distance, you couldn’t erase him from your life completely. The ultrasound pictures sat on your bedside table—a reminder of the tiny life growing inside you. And, in some way, they were also a reminder of him. You had always imagined Lee Know being there, maybe as the fun uncle, spoiling your kid with treats and making them laugh. But never had you imagined him as more.

Until the day he found out.

Lee Know had finally had enough of your avoidance. He used the spare key you had given him years ago and let himself into your apartment, fully intending to scold you for acting weird.

“Alright, what’s your deal—” His voice cut off as his eyes landed on the small black and white images on your side table. He wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what those were.

His heart pounded as he slowly stepped closer, picking up the ultrasound picture with shaky fingers.

“Is this…?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

You stood frozen in the doorway, your face drained of color.

“Lee Know, I—”

“Since when?” he demanded, turning to face you fully, his expression unreadable.

You swallowed hard, feeling the tears prick your eyes. “A few months.”

“A few months?” His voice rose. “You’ve been dealing with this alone for months?”

You looked away, shame washing over you. “I didn’t want to burden you.”

Lee Know let out a sharp breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Burden me? Are you serious right now? You’re my best friend! How could you think I wouldn’t be here for you?”

Tears finally spilled down your cheeks. “Because I was scared! He left, and I—”

Lee Know’s jaw clenched. “Who?”

You shook your head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it doesn’t,” he growled. “Tell me his name.”

You didn’t, but that didn’t stop Lee Know from feeling a burning rage in his chest. How could any man walk away from this? Walk away from you?

“I hate him,” he muttered under his breath before stepping closer. “But you’re not alone. You have me.”

And just like that, the weight you had been carrying for months felt a little lighter.

A few months later, you gave birth to a baby girl.

The moment you held your daughter in your arms, you felt an overwhelming sense of love and protection. But what surprised you most was the sight of Lee Know, standing by your side, looking down at the baby as if she were his own.

“She’s beautiful,” he whispered, eyes soft.

You turned to him, exhaustion evident in your voice. “Will you name her?”

Lee Know’s eyes widened. “Me?”

You nodded. “You’ve been here more than anyone else. You deserve it.”

He looked down at the tiny baby in his arms, her little fingers wrapping around his. And with a soft smile, he whispered the name that felt perfect.

“Minji.”

As the years passed, Lee Know became more than just your best friend. He became Minji’s protector, her playmate, her safe place. Even with his busy schedule, he always made time for her, whether it was bedtime stories, dance parties in the living room, or simply holding her when she had a bad dream.

And while you adored watching Lee Know bond with your daughter, a part of your heart ached. Because you had fallen in love with him.

But how could you ever tell him?

You weren’t the same as before. Motherhood had changed you—physically, emotionally. You weren’t the same girl Lee Know had grown up with. Your body had become curvier, softer, a reminder of the life you had brought into the world.

One night, you stood in front of the mirror, tugging at your oversized hoodie, trying to hide yourself. But Lee Know caught you.

“What are you doing?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You turned away. “Nothing.”

Lee Know stepped forward and gently pulled your hoodie up, revealing the small folds of your stomach. “Stop hiding.”

You flushed. “I just… don’t look the same.”

He scoffed. “So?”

“So, I don’t feel beautiful anymore.”

Lee Know stared at you before shaking his head. “You’re an idiot.”

Your eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

He leaned in, his hands resting on your waist. “You carried a whole human being. You think a few curves make you any less beautiful? If anything, you’re even sexier now.”

You felt your heart skip a beat as he smirked. “Seriously. I love every part of you.”

Your breath hitched. “Lee Know, I—”

“Mommy, Uncle Lino!” Minji ran into the room, interrupting the moment.

Lee Know laughed, picking her up effortlessly. “What’s up, princess?”

Minji pouted. “Why are you ‘Uncle Lino’ and not my daddy?”

Silence filled the room.

Your chest tightened as you looked at Lee Know, searching for an answer. But instead of hesitating, he just smiled.

“You can call me whatever you want, Minji.”

That night, you found the courage to confess.

“I love you, Lee Know,” you admitted, bracing yourself for rejection. “I know I come with baggage, and I—”

Lee Know rolled his eyes and closed the distance between you.

“Took you long enough,” he teased before lifting you onto the kitchen counter, trapping you between his arms.

You barely had time to process before his lips were on yours, soft yet demanding, as if he had been waiting for this moment forever.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. “I’ve been yours this whole time.”

Minji’s giggle rang out from the doorway. “Eww, Uncle Lino!”

Lee Know turned, smirking. “Guess I’ll have to get used to ‘Dad’ now.”

And just like that, your little family was complete.

---

[bambisnc]

���       . . . we can't be friends.

° ˖ ➴ how enhypen would ( un/intentionally ) fuck up a friendship

### . STARRING ⌢ OT7 ⋆ suggestive + 1.2k // best friend!enha + hcs + swearing + kissing + being drunk + unedited ˖ ✧

🗨️ .. ⌞ XOXO ⌝ i kinda went AWF here... hoon's is kinda short :( + [m.list]

౨ৎ ˖ 이희승 — ❪ LEE HEESEUNG ❫  

after receiving a series of confusing texts with more than half the words misspelled, your confusion is finally quelled by a call from your best friend at around 1 am. only to hear a bunch of mumbled out words, slurred and somewhere along the lines of where are you.. i miss you :( … jungwon finally has to intervene and ask you to come pick up heeseung’s very, very drunk self from the bar they were all at.

you go there to do the same and while trying to support his weak figure and helping him walk out, you nag at him, as one does. nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual “he should be taking better care of himself” rant, before he cuts you off by pressing his lips to yours.

and for a moment, you freeze. the slightly bitter sweet taste of alcohol so intoxicating that you find yourself unable to actually react. he pulls away after a short kiss, string of saliva stretching to complete the distance, which he promptly dives back in to lick away, before passing out on top of you. and from then on, you just can’t bring yourself to act normal around him. oops…

          ⋅ ˚ ଳ ₊ ‧ others utc

౨ৎ ˖ 박종성 — ❪ JAY PARK ❫  

when one of the most notorious fuckboys of your university campus asked him about you, jay was mildly annoyed to say the least. the boy pretty much yapped his ear off about you, making a very poor attempt to be nonchalant about the whole thing because he was clearly desperate to get a chance to be with you.

your best friend couldn’t help but be pissed at your insane ability to attract creeps. on a whim, majorly only because he wanted to see the reaction on earlier mentioned fuckboy’s face, he announced that the two of you were actually dating. so, if jaehyun or whatever his name was didn’t mind, could he kindly fuck off and never make the mistake of even wandering near a 5 metre radius of you? many thanks.

jay conveniently forgets to mention this event to you, though, meaning you only find out much later from one of jaehyun's friends and by then it's too late to do anything because now, the whole campus is convinced you're dating...

౨ৎ ˖ 심재윤 — ❪ JAKE SIM ❫  

ah, yes. the ol' "can you teach me how to kiss?" he would tell you all about this girl he's into, she's his soulmate, he swears. an absolute angel, the most perfect individual he's ever seen.

the only problem is .. he's scared he's not experienced enough. what if she goes to kiss him and he's super, super awkward about it? god, he'd be mortified! jake really has no other choice than to ask you for help. you get where he's coming from right? so you'll help him?

... and you do, because it couldn't hurt right? it's your moral duty to help your best friend get bitches, after all. just don't question why what was supposed to be only one kiss has long extended into a full drawn, make out session. and definitely don't question why he's pulled you into his lap, and is leaving small bites on your neck that will definitely bloom into hickies soon — all this is just for practice!

౨ৎ ˖ 박성훈 — ❪ PARK SUNGHOON ❫  

this mf will have it all planned. if he wants to have you he'll do anything within his ability to get you to fall for him just as much as he's fallen for you - friendship be damned. sunghoon would be subtle about it though, while also simultaneously being such a little shit with the whole thing... like he would definitely not be above straight up using thirst traps and sending you slightly ... risqué texts. a few pictures here and there, with his pretty muscles fully on display for you. if you happen confront him about it, he'll just use the excuse of not being so good with his new phone... you understand right? :/

౨ৎ ˖ 김선우 — ❪ KIM SUNWOO ❫  

first dates are always exciting. you especially adore the getting ready part because your best friend sunoo just happens to have really good taste in fashion. there's no way you'd embark on a single shopping trip without him and his expert opinions. it's the cherry on top that he's extremely supportive and hypes you up like he's literally being paid to.

conversations circling somewhat around "... and you're sure this looks fine, right sunoo?" "yes. trust me, you look fine as hell..." have become a norm to an almost shocking extent. which is perfectly fine, friends are meant to be supportive. this is totally normal! <3

... that is, until the same best friend has you pinned up against the mirror top where you'd been doing your make up, a finger on your chin angling your face towards his own, mumbling out a quiet "hey. don't go on that date."

౨ৎ ˖ 양정원 — ❪ YANG JUNGWON ❫  

okay no one question me on this. don’t even perceive my thoughts on this, really. but think about having a horrible break up. just the absolute worst, "dumped via a text" break up.

it’s for the best, you know that. your ex was an absolute piece of shit. more than enough people had told you how much better you could do, exchanged not so subtle whispers wondering why someone like you was with someone like... him.. the biggest advocate against your relationship was none other than jungwon. which makes sense, considering he, as your best friend, would only want the absolute best for you. nothing more, nothing less. 

armed with cheesy romcoms and comfy blankets, jungwon had done whatever he could to get your mind off of the asshole behind the cause of your sadness. but ... when nothing works, he can only sigh. desperate times call for desperate measure, right? as your friend, it's only natural he'd be willing to do ... certain favors for you.

he takes your face in both of his hands, wiping off the tears gently. “there’s other ways, you know? of distraction.” a soft brush of his lips to the corner of your mouth, “other ways to make you forget all about him…” 

౨ৎ ˖ 西村 力 — ❪ NISHIMURA RIKI ❫  

playing silly games like truth or dare always gets him way too competitive for some reason. but, being dared to play the pocky game with his own best friend was the place where niki drew a line. for once, he wouldn’t have minded letting it go, wouldn’t have minded being the bigger person and accepting defeat – he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable for any reason, after all.

but when jake and the others started teasing him about it? saying that niki was just a wuss, being oh so scared of just a tiny little kiss, wasn’t he? my guy all but lost complete reasoning. he snatched a strawberry pocky stick, placing it in his mouth with such speed that it was almost shocking that the fragile biscuit didn’t break from it. 

but it's fine, you don't mind helping him prove a point. so you're more than willing to comply. only... the way his eyes stare into yours as the distance between your lips lessens and lessens makes a strange (but definitely not unwelcome) warmth spread through your entire being. you finally end up breaking the pocky in favor of looking away, completely ignoring the questioning look in your best friend's eye.

𐙚 . regulars : @chrrific ⋆

[@bambisnc] 2k25

[tootkin-goblin]

And people seems to think that you can just push through the executive disfunction and Be Disciplined about it. Mind over matter! You're the boss of your body!

And in my experience you can... sometimes. But it's traumatic. And the trauma makes it even harder to push through the next time, because the brain is veeeeery good at stopping you from hurting yourself. Ever tried to put your hand on a burning stove? Well it does the same for tasks that seems inconsequential but have been very stressful the last time. Stress is a very hurtful after all.

And so you push through, and it's stressful and traumatic, and the executive disfunction grows. But you're better than that! Mind over matter! You push through again! And again! And again!! Until your body find other ways to stop you. And you wake up one morning and you can't anymore. Your legs won't support you. Your arms stops moving. Your eyes stop seeing. In my case it was a full stop: I would fall asleep anytime I tried to do the task. Literally, consciousness blackout anytime I tried. I know some people who had it worse still.

I might be wrong and it might not be universal, but my experience of executive disfunction is very much one of self-preservation. Not always actually helpful, not always targeted at the right things, sometimes it seems to make no sense at all. But sometimes it's not the task itself, it's the possibility of not succeeding at the task and being punished for it. "I want to draw and I love drawing but I can't" makes a lot more sense when it's actually "I want to draw and share my drawings but the internet is a cold void and I don't know if I will get the comments and the sense of connexion I'm yearning for so the drawing must be perfect to reach other people or else I will be punished with more loneliness"

Burnout is a bitch. Executive disfunction is describing a symptom more than a cause but, at least to me, the cause is trauma.

people who dont experience it cannot comprehend how awful executive dysfunction is. I WANT to do the task, i have the resources TO do the task, i will feel better having DONE the task

but i cant fucking do the task

[nosyrobin]

Reposting this as a separate part and not as a big ass reblog cause that was so lazy of me…

Yandere!Batfamily x TeddyBear!Reader

Part 1 | part 2

Damian who's a little sneaky bastard. He plays the"innocent" child card. Making you dot on him.

Damian who forces you to take a small form of your bear shape. Mostly so he can hold you like the true teddybear you are. Forcing you to stay in his room as he sleep.

Damian who actually gets terribly upset when you actually start to ignore and find ways to avoid him.

Damian who is close to making his father force you to get into mind control so you can listen to him

Tim who always uses you as a pillow. You could try to get away from the coffeeholic man. But he could only smile with you having a muzzle on, roaring to be free. You're his sweet experiment.

Tim who gives you coffee when you let your guard down. Don't worry about the funny taste, it's just to make you obey and stay with him longer when he studies.

Tim who smiles when you act so loopy and hug him, growling softly in your bear form and nuzzle into his neck in your human one. You're just so sweet...

Tim who sometimes designs chips, he made one that completely will force you to be the mind slave you were originally to be. Maybe even keep your spirit in that teddy bear form of yours.

Jason who tries to soothe your pains, but he's only causing more when he stares down at you backing away from him.

Jason who still vents to you about his much he's in a frenzy between liking Bruce and not liking him. It gets tiring.

Jason who declaws you, you could try and regenerate your body. He'll only do it over and over again for the times you clawed at his face.

Jason who wants to break you mentally, who wants you to depend on him. So he can take you away from this place.

Dick who gets sickly sweet with you. You can't tell if he's actually being nice or not.

Dick who coos at you, he hugs you tightly In your human form, making sure you have no space to transform. Learning you need an amount of space to transform between forms

Dick who babies you too much, it's sickening how he could make you seem so childish when you're years older than any of the men in this place.

Dick who has Barbara always give him secret photos off of the cameras in the house of you. Aren't you his cute teddy bear.

Bruce who only watches, not even caring if you actually trusted him or not. You're only here to please his sons.

Bruce who has a perimeter around the house that the chip Tim made can alarm him or any of the boys that you tried to escape. Oh well, guess it's another dose of honey for you.

Bruce who has cameras watching you 24/7. Don't worry, he doesn't watch you that much. Unlike Tim.

Bruce who agrees to Damian's plan to put an another chip. This time in your brain.

You who’s starting to snap…

You who's is starting to isolate yourself from the bat and birds. They notice, but you are calculating how to escape.

You who finally found your source to escape this hellish mansion

You who fall to the ground when trying to escape late at night. You fall with a hard thud as the chip under your skin, your fur, it shocks your your entire body. You couldn't help but see feet come towards you. You try to roar only for a syringe enter your neck. Dark figures surround your body as you start to black out.

You who are their perfect teddy bear.....

[hhughes]

𐔌 　 ⁺　 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 𓂃۶ৎ

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 , after some comments were made by quinn's brothers, you get a little insecure in your relationship and he has to reassure you

𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. luke!bsf x quinn hughes. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕. fluff. teasing. flirting. 𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. I love writing quinn so much😭 this is a repost that’s slightly edited if it looks a little familiar to you. one of my favs things ive ever written to this day so thanks again to the anon who requested it! <333

you and quinn had been dating a few months now. sneaking around behind everyone's backs including luke. your best friend and quinn's youngest brother.

the four of you were sitting in the living room at the lake house, watching some movie. jack and luke were chirping quinn about some actress that he used to have a crush on. going on and on about how he had a thing for older women because he was such a mommas boy.

you laughed along at first, always finding it so endearing to watch the brothers bicker back and forth. even though you've been around to witness it for quite a few years now...it never got old. your smile quickly faded when jack started making comments about how all quinn's relationships with younger women has failed, and that he should go for someone older this time, cause it doesn't seem like the younger girls can handle him.

you know you shouldn't let these comments bother you. it wasn't that serious and it wasn't directed towards you, but it was one of your, if not the biggest insecurity you had when it came to your relationship with quinn. being four years younger than him. not being enough to keep him interested. these comments from two people who probably knew him the best, didn't do anything to reassure you.

"I'll be right back," you whisper, avoiding quinn's eyes as you make your way to the bathroom.

a few minutes later there's a soft knock on the door and quinn enters, when you answer, shutting the door behind him and coming over to where you're standing in front of the sink. he wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you closer and kissing your shoulder softly.

"what's wrong sweetheart?" he asks you softly, brushing the hair out of your face as he holds you tight. the time he’s had to spent close to you but not allowed to touch you, having taken its toll on him.

"nothing," you mumble and he puts his hands on your hips, spinning you around to face him and pushing you against the counter.

"don't lie to me. I know you well enough to know everything's not okay and even if I didnt this pout is enough to tell me there's something wrong." quinn says, rubbing circles on your hip and tracing your lips with the thumb of his other hand.

"do you think I'm too young for you?" the words fly out before you can stop them and quinn sighs, knowing his brother's comments was the cause of this.

"age is just a number baby," quinn says teasingly, kissing your lips softly and you sigh.

"quinn I'm being serious," you retort, grabbing both of his hands and holding them in yours, the way they were caressing you becoming a little too distracting.

"so am I. I don't care if you're four years younger or four years older or if you were born the exact same day I was. It doesn't change the fact that you're perfect for me. you know how jack is, especially if he's been drinking, he can't keep his mouth shut. if there's an opportunity to chirp me about something, he’s gonna take it. if they knew that we were together, he would be more careful about making remarks like that. you know both of them adore you and would never say anything to hurt you on purpose" quinn says and you bite the inside of your cheek, knowing he was right.

“and besides, those relationships didn’t work out because they just weren’t the right girl for me baby. not because they were younger. they just weren’t you” he says softly, pressing yet another kiss to your collarbone.

"i’m not ready to tell luke yet." you say and quinn nods, expecting that response from you.

"the longer we wait, the worse it's gonna be." quinn replies and you look down, not wanting to argue about this. again.

quinn sighs softly before taking his hand out of yours and cupping your face between his palms, planting a soft kiss on your lips.

"god it's torture seeing you all day and not being able to touch you. kiss you." he says wrapping his arms around your waist and just hugging you for a few minutes. you smile a bit, thinking that this is exactly why he was nicknamed "huggy bear". your guy loves hugging.

"I'll sneak into your room tonight. if you think a young girl like me can handle you," you quip and quinn chuckles, knowing you're not gonna let that go for a while.

"I think you can handle me just fine baby" quinn smirks, slapping your ass as you walk past him, and out the door.

𝒙𝒐 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒊. thank you for reading and feel free to drop by the inbox and share any and all thoughts <333

[nosyrobin]

Damian who’s a little sneaky bastard. He plays the “innocent” child card. Making you dot on him.

Damian who forces you to take a small form of your bear shape. Mostly so he can hold you like the true teddybear you are. Forcing you to stay in his room as he sleep.

Damian who actually gets terribly upset when you actually start to ignore and find ways to avoid him.

Damian who is close to making his father force you to get into mind control so you can listen to him

Tim who always uses you as a pillow. You could try to get away from the coffeeholic man. But he could only smile with you having a muzzle on, roaring to be free. You’re his sweet experiment.

Tim who gives you coffee when you let your guard down. Don’t worry about the funny taste, it’s just to make you obey and stay with him longer when he studies.

Tim who smiles when you act so loopy and hug him, growling softly in your bear form and nuzzle into his neck in your human one. You’re just so sweet….

Tim who sometimes designs chips, he made one that completely will force you to be the mind slave you were originally to be. Maybe even keep your spirit in that teddy bear form of yours.

Jason who tries to soothe your pains, but he’s only causing more when he stares down at you backing away from him.

Jason who still vents to you about his much he’s in a frenzy between liking Bruce and not liking him. It gets tiring.

Jason who declaws you, you could try and regenerate your body. He’ll only do it over and over again for the times you clawed at his face.

Jason who wants to break you mentally, who wants you to depend on him. So he can take you away from this place.

Dick who gets sickly sweet with you. You can’t tell if he’s actually being nice or not.

Dick who coos at you, he hugs you tightly In your human form, making sure you have no space to transform. Learning you need an amount of space to transform between forms

Dick who babies you too much, it’s sickening how he could make you seem so childish when you’re years older than any of the men in this place.

Dick who has Barbara always give him secret photos off of the cameras in the house of you. Aren’t you his cute teddy bear.

Bruce who only watches, not even caring if you actually trusted him or not. You’re only here to please his sons.

Bruce who has a perimeter around the house that the chip Tim made can alarm him or any of the boys that you tried to escape. Oh well, guess it’s another dose of honey for you.

Bruce who has cameras watching you 24/7. Don’t worry, he doesn’t watch you that much. Unlike Tim.

Bruce who agrees to Damian’s plan to put an another chip. This time in your brain.

You who’s starting to snap….

You who’s is starting to isolate yourself from the bat and birds. They notice, but you are calculating how to escape.

You who finally found your source to escape this hellish mansion

You who fall to the ground when trying to escape late at night. You fall with a hard thud as the chip under your skin, your fur, it shocks your your entire body. You couldn’t help but see feet come towards you. You try to roar only for a syringe enter your neck. Dark figures surround your body as you start to black out.

You who are their perfect teddy bear…..

Teddy bear!reader who’s trapped in the Wayne household.

Teddy bear!reader who’s practically some weird cuddly entity that resembles a teddy bear with a human form

Teddy bear!reader who has to endure all the venting, ranting the batfamily has to tell them. They can’t help but frown as it starts to get draining.

Teddy bear!reader who’s always hugged when seen. They can’t get out of the tight hold the boys get them into to. Even Bruce doesn’t let them go easily.

Teddy bear!reader who has a chip in them, shocking them when they don’t keep up the “happy bear” facade. You’re supposed to be the cute teddy they love.

Teddy bear!reader forced to be into human form so one of the boys can take them out and spoil them. But it’s only to show others that you belong to them if you somehow escape them.

Teddy bear!reader who’s starting to crack. The cuddly teddy is starting to be a grizzly bear.

————-

But that only stops when you get shocking pain in your neck. You roar, clawing at your own skin and fur. You transform between bear and human. Dick frowns as he hold the controller down. Damian could only hold a scowl watching his beloved animal act out.

Jason sits watching you beg for the pain to stop, Tim could only smile. Bruce has a hand on Dick’s shoulder. He squeezed it seeing you about to pass you. Dick stops the shocking pain.

You whimper, holding your arms. You feel your claws poke your own bruised body. Bruce kneels down, lifting your head as you flinch at his touch. “Our poor teddy….” He says lowly, he shows pity more than guilt.

It makes you sick as you try and roar at him, growl. Anything. But in the corner of your eye, you see Dick ready to press the button. You immediately stopped trying to fight. “You seem cranky..” Bruce says, he then helps you sit up as Damian moves by his father.

“Father, maybe it’s time for them to eat some honey?” He questions.

Honey…it’s not honey. It’s a drug to make you loopy. To make you obey them. To make you happy and do anything they wish to do to you.

To make you their perfect little teddy bear.

A/N: UH OH??? DID I EAT? OR DID I EAT🗣️‼️