#lee!welt

[fluffy-ami]

are requests open…? 👀

lee welt pls 🥺🥺 ler can be anyone on the astral express family :)

have a nice day <3

OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING HIM LEE!WELT LET'S GOOOOOOOOO WE'RE GETTING BACK TO OUR REQUESTS WITH THIS ONE 🗣️🫶🏻✨🌸

(Click for better quality!)

no but um my hsr brainrot is so real rn- i mean if anyone has some welt (or blade. or sampo. or veritas-😳) hcs you could send me some, or tag me, or drop a link because i'm starving-

I mean what who said that 🧑🏻‍🦯🧑🏻‍🦯🧑🏻‍🦯

[fluffyskies]

Tickletober Day 2: Accidental might of gotten inspo from a certain post

I'm using this prompt list! Link

[lovelynim]

Failing successfully

Honkai: Star Rail - Welt & Caelus

A/N: Second comm to no other than the magnificent @otomiyaa herself!! [crowd cheering noises]. Thanks for being so patient and for allowing me to project dad behavior onto Welt. I hope you like it!!!

Summary: March 7th's plans are always perfect, aren't they? Even if they fail, you can be sure that the outcome won't let you down!

Word count: 1912 words

“Hmmm,” March 7th looked over the little window in the door that led to the Parlor Car. Welt was still sitting in one of the couches, reading or doing something on his phone. “Target spotted,” she chirped excitedly, quickly getting her face away from the window to avoid getting caught.

The girl turned back to look at her partners in crime - Dan Heng, who wasn’t as willingly as her, and Caelus, the new guy who seemed thrilled with their plan. “Ready?” She asked, looking towards the latter. He nodded. Dan Heng sighed. “Then let’s go!”

It wasn’t a complex, heavily prepared plan. Some wouldn’t even refer to it as a plan, in fact. Maybe “prank” would be a better keyword for this whole course of action.

It has been over a week since Caelus boarded de Astral Express and, so far, everything was flowing pretty smoothly. The crew was nice, everyone worked in their own little way to make sure he felt welcomed; there was this hot, dark-haired guy aboard, and Caelus definitely wanted to get closer to him; and even the food was great, except for that ungodly espresso that the navigator made every morning.

But through the past few days, one question had been sitting on top of his head: why was mr. Yang always so serious?

He brought it up with Dan Heng, Himeko and even Pom-Pom, but the simple answers didn’t exactly satisfy his curiosity. Then, Caelus brought it up with March 7th one day, in one of their daily gossip bonding sessions, and that was the moment when she proposed the plan they were currently putting up to practice.

Tested with Dan Heng (against his will) and proved, everyone had a fun side. March knew it. They just needed to find it.

“But what if it goes wrong?” Dan Heng complained, trying to be the voice of reason of the trio - all in vain. Of course there was a plan B and even a C one, March explained while sounding convincing enough, bringing the three of them back to the present.

The Parlor Car’s door opened swiftly, allowing Caelus to walk through while March 7th and Dan Heng watched from the other car. So far, everything was going according to the plan. One step after the other, Caelus made it past Pom-Pom, Himeko and, at the other side of the car, he met Welt.

As always, mr. Yang wasn’t just sitting idly in one of the comfortable couches. Welt seemed to be reading something in his phone - moving the screen closer and further from his face as his eyes worked to read each of the tiny letters. Caelus smiled slightly at that mannerism - so like mr. Yang, he thought.

Still, he needed to focus. He wasn’t there to help Welt change his group chat’s icon or wallpaper. He had a mission. Right.

“Hm? Caelus?” Welt muttered, gently but lacking any sort of emotion. He moved his head up from the phone, looking at the younger guy approaching him with a puzzled face. “Can I help you?”

Caelus froze in the spot. He shouldn’t be noticed so soon, he remembered. “A-ah,” he shook his head. No, it wasn’t time to abort the mission yet - he could still make it, yes! “Hello, mr. Yang!” Caelus chirped, waving his hand.

Not thinking twice, Caelus sat himself a couple inches away from Welt. “What are you doing?” He smiled, swinging his legs and tilting his head, trying to peek at Welt's phone.

The latter sighed, his eyes shifting back to the screen. “I was reading some article about Herta’s Station's latest studies, but these annoying IPC ads keep popping up…” Welt sighed, sounding almost defeated. The frown was just the excuse Caelus needed, which made him nearly beam with excitement.

“Ah, don't be sad, mr. Yang!”

“Huh? But I'm not-”

“Here, I know a way to help you! It's 100% effective!” Caelus’s smile widened, so much excitement that It almost made him sound creepy. “Do you want to try it?” He leaned a bit towards the older man, his eyes nearly sparkling.

Welt couldn’t help but be a weirded out by Caelus’s straight forwardness. With a nervous chuckle, he fixed his position, coughing to clean his throat. “I… suppose so, yes. We can try it out,” Welt nodded, remembering Himeko’s words that they should encourage the “kids”.

Caelus gasped, turning around as he got himself in position. “Ok ok,” Caelus held out his hands in front of his chest, his fingers twitching slightly, ready to strike. Welt’s eyes widened a bit.

“Caelus, wait a secon- AH!”

A pair of hands just made contact with Welt’s knee and side and the sound that came from his lips was enough to freeze both him and Caelus on the spot. 

“Are… you ticklish, mr. Yang?” Caelus chirped, daring to squeeze both spots again and jumping along with Welt when he reacted with a sudden jolt, a restrained chuckle held back in his throat.

“C-Caelus,” Welt groaned, an awkward, crooked smile in his face as he tugged at Caelus’s wrist, trying to dislodge his hand from his side. “What a-are you doing?” His breath hitched, looking at the guy with the corner of his eyes.

Caelus blinked, confused. Right, he should have a proper explanation for that. “A-ahm,” however, he didn’t. “Trying t-to… cheer… you… up?” He smiled, his hand slowly leaving Welt’s knee, but when he tried to pull the other back, Caelus realized that Welt continued to hold him by his wrist. “I see,” Welt nodded, chuckling again - but more scarier this time. Yeah, this was the time to run.

Yanking his hand as hard as he could, Caelus managed to free himself and quickly dashed back towards the Passengers' Car. Through the little window in the door, he could see March 7th’s expression turn towards a panicked one as she spoke something with Dan Heng. 

“O-open the door!” He cried, forcing his legs to their limit. Caelus didn’t dare to look back - that expression on Welt’s face told him everything he needed to know, including the fact that if he didn’t escape, he was done for. 

But sending all his hope down the drain, Caelus watched as both March and Dan Heng’s figures left the other side of the door. He was… betrayed. Those two!! Confirming his suspicions, the door didn’t move when Caelus tried to open it, not in the slightest

That was it, the end of his journey.

Caelus turned around, watching in horror as Welt slowly approached him, step by step. Despite his cries and the scene that just happened, both Himeko and Pom-Pom were seemingly unbothered. So cold!

“M-mr. Yang, wait a moment!” Caelus pleaded one last time, pressing himself against the locked door, his hands desperately waving in front of his chest. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean t- WAHH!!”

An embarrassingly loud squeal escaped his lips when Welt reached him, pushing the back of his knee with his cane and forcing Caelus onto the ground. There, in the corner of the Astral Express’s parlor car, Caelus met his demise.

Or something like that.

Skillful and experienced hands quickly rendered him helpless, pinning one of his arms above his head while the other kneaded into his side. Caelus kicked his legs and planted his heels against the floor, but all for naught. Welt, softly smiling - or smirking, if you will - at him, tilted his head before speaking out loud again.

“This method is, indeed, effective, isn’t it?” He muttered, barely audible over Caelus’s panicked giggles, as he squeezed the guy’s waist with his thumb, rubbing small circles against some patches of bare skin that started showing once his shirt was railed up.

Swatting his free hand towards Welt’s, Caelus thrashed as much as he was allowed to. He tried to pull his arm down and roll away from the tickling that crept up his sides, but nothing seemed to work. “M-mr. Yang! AHAHah, I-I’m sohohorry! Plehehease!!” That traitor, Caelus thought while laughing his head off, March 7th would surely pay for leaving him like this. “I-it’s Mahaharch’s fahAHAhault!”

Welt chuckled, shaking his head as he prodded at Caelus ribs, already having figured this would be something she would encourage. He could deal with her later, though, right now Caelus was the one deserving some attention.

“Is that so?” Welt hummed, freeing Caelus’s arm, but, in exchange, freeing his other hand to tickle the guy’s torso, clawing at his tummy and lower sides, “then why didn’t I see her, hm? Are you trying to blame her instead, Caelus?”

“N-no! It’s noHOHoht that, I swehehear!” Caelus squealed, holding onto both Welt’s wrists to try to stop them from climbing up his sides again. “It was h-heheher ideahaha!! AhaHAHAh!!” Caelus could feel his eyes turning a little watery and his cheeks hurting from smiling, but Welt didn’t hesitate for a single second.

“So you two were working together,” he pointed out, wiggling his fingers over Caelus’s ribs, playing the both sides of his ribcage as some sort of piano - a loud and high pitched one, as a matter of fact.  “Good thing you are getting along, but I’d rather if you were combining your efforts to do something else other than teasing me,” Welt smiled. Despite the soft, gentle tone that carried his words, it was clear he wasn’t going easy on Caelus.

“So, once I’m done with you, I’ll go hard a word with her. Fair enough, right?”

“W-wAHAhahait!” Caelus squeaked like a toy, his elbows pressing against his torso as hard as they could when Welt threatened to go for his underarms. Caelus’s cheeks wore a beet-red tone and his eyes nearly popped up when he felt the incoming threat. He was just an accomplice, a tool in the hand of an evil mastermind. Shouldn’t he be spared?!

No. At least, not in Welt’s view of the situation.

Fingers pressed into Caelus’s ribs, aiming for the higher ones, just below his armpits. It tickled a lot. Welt barely tweaked his fingers and a loud, desperate laugh already broke past his lips. He pressed his head back into the soft carpet and kicked his feet, throwing his legs up before hitting the ground with his heels.

Caelus tried to roll into his side, hugging his poor, ticklish body in a vain attempt of protecting it from the merciless tickling. “M-mr. YahAHAHang, plehEHEHease!! I’m sohOHOHOrry!!” He cried out, feeling his head a little light thanks to the lack of air. 

And just like it started, it was over. The pressure on his body suddenly was gone and, when he realized it, Welt had lifted his fingers. “Alright, I think that should be enough for you,” Welt smiled, getting into one of his knees as he tried to give Caelus some room to recover himself.

“I- hahah, ahh… that w-was a lohot, heh,” the guy wheezed, little tears partially blurring his vision. Caelus looked up in silence as Welt stood back up and reached his hand out to him. “Thanks, mr, Yang,” he smiled shyly as he was pulled back into his feet as well.

“You seem to have had fun,” Welt pointed out, a proud, but small, smirk on his lips. “Now, if you excuse me, I have something to settle with your partner in crime.”

Caelus nodded, watching Welt walk through the nearby door and into the passengers’ car. He sighed.

Mental note: do not mess with mr. Yang. Ever!! 

[hellish-hyperfixation]

fandoms/people I write for

the list could end up growing, but more often than not I fixate on a specific character in a fandom, so don't expect anything too expansive.

Key: Red - Current hyperfixations. I'll probably finish these requests quicker/be more motivated

Baldurs Gate 3:

Gale (check additional info at bottom of post) Karlach

Lab Rats/Elite Force/Mighty Med:

Chaz (Chase/Kaz) Brylar (Bree/Skylar)

Hermitcraft/MCYT:

Grumbo (grian/mumbo) Smallidarity (jimmy/joel) Ethubs (etho/bdubs)

I/A The Spiderverse:

MilesGanke/Clawcode/Riotflower (check end of post for extra info)

Nimona:

Goldenheart (I've only seen the movie)

Redactedverse:

Lasko Moore Sam Collins (?) Geordi (?)

Fantastic Beasts:

Newt Scamander Theseus Scamander (?)

MCU:

Doctor Stephen Strange Peter Parker (Tom Holland, Andrew Garfield) Peter Quill

Honkai Star Rail:

Welt Yang

In Space With Markiplier:

Head Engineer Mark Mack

Additional Information: Gale: only willing to write "x tav" but am willing to write for your tav! just send me info about them in the ask and ill try to the best of my ability to do them justice! The reason I can't write for durge is because.. I don't know anything about them... at least, not yet.

Milesganke/Clawcode/Riotflower: please please PLEASE! tell me which universe both miles and ganke are for the fic (1610 or 42). And also note that I haven't read any of the comics (sue me), so I won't be able to write for them in the comics or games (at least not well).

[alchemiclee]

I think doing shipping through and aroace lens makes things complicated but also interesting. I think one reason I don't enjoy straight ships as much is because it's very rare for people write/talk about them with a queerplatonic dynamic. straight romance is so "normalized" in society, it's hard to get any other dynamic out of those ships from other people in conversation or writing. it's mostly always romantic. (especially when "guys and girls can't be *just* friends" is extremely common and has ruined mamy of my own friendships) but I enjoy a handful of a straight ship with that dynamic. it's just way more rare to see talked about than gay ones from my observation. anyway point is, more queerplatonic type ships and stuff please! those aren't explored enough!

[alittleemo]

continuing my tradition of a horrific itching event this summer for the tenth year running thank you and shoutout to my girl sea lice .

[philosophenstreik]

ein traumhaftes buch mit träumerischem umschlag... ein verwunschenes kleines haus wunderbar umrankt - doch bildet es nicht das bedeutend größere kaufhaus der träume ab, in dem es in diesem roman geht. es ist einfach ein verwunschenes haus mit ladengeschäft darin... die hauptmann & kompanie werbeagentur übernimmt hier die gestaltung einfach vom original, wodurch es weiterhin - obwohl für jedes alter geschrieben - doch eher an die jüngere zielgruppe gerichtet ist. eigentlich schade, denn ein umschlag macht viel aus... (rezension zum roman im vorigen beitrag)

[politikwatch]

Das #chinesische Phantom – Die Jagd auf den gefährlichsten #Waffenhändler der Welt

Ein #Aggressor #Russland, der seinen Waffenbedarf für den Ukraine-Krieg mit Importen aus #Teheran und #Peking decken will. Ein #Iran, der dem Bau einer #Atombombe näher ist als je zuvor. Und eine aufstrebende Supermacht #China, die sich immer weniger um internationale #Regeln schert.

[bandgie]

Can You Really? | Armageddon Event

Request: Patience | Lee Know (SKZ) by anon song!

warnings!: MDNI18+, bdsm themes, fem!reader, paddle use, impact play, pussy spanking, edging, bondage, nipple clamps, pussy eating (implied), blindfold use

1.1k words

Somewhere in the dark, he hushes you. The sound is meant to be helpful. To soothe your jittery nerves and trembling body. But when you’re tied. When your wrists are bound to your ankles, forcing your legs to bend the knee, it’s anything but. You only shiver more.

It doesn’t help that a blindfold impairs your vision. All you have is your hearing and sense of touch. But that damn hushing. It makes you break out in goosebumps. You even arch your back a little, causing the nipple clamps that attach to your collar by the chain tug.

“Ahhh,” you breathe a light moan from the pull. “D-don’t do that.”

Minho giggles and you imagine his bunny teeth poking past his lips. “Do what? I’m not even touching you.”

You might’ve laughed with him, his giggles are contagious, but you can’t even crack a smile when your body anticipates anything and everything he might do. “ ‘m sorry.” You’re not sure why you’re apologizing. “I just…fuck…I need to cum.”

He hums at that. You swear you’re about to orgasm from just his voice when you feel the acrylic texture cool against your skin. The paddle has a small, plastic rectangle Minho uses to slide against your body. He trails it between the valley of your breasts, swooping to one boob and rubbing your nipple in small circles.

Your bud is already so sensitive from the constant pressure of the clamp, but the paddle adds pleasure you thought you couldn’t feel. Small whimpers pass your lips and you will yourself to keep your neck still so the chain doesn’t yank.

However, that’s exactly what Minho wants you to do.

The paddle leaves your body for a second before crashing back down. Your nipple takes the landing, a loud slap sound emitting throughout the room. Pain that you blur with pleasure spreads in your body. You throw your head back so forcefully that the clamps pop off.

“Fuck!” You can feel the tears welting in your eyes. “Oh shhhit. I-you-no-” 

Minho snorts. “Eye you know? Forgetting how to speak already?”

You wish you could be snarky back, but Minho drags the rectangle lower and lower until it reaches your pelvis. All you can do is beg for mercy at this point.

“Y-you’re being mean.” The paddle stops just above your cunt. You swear you can hear his eyebrows pinch together. “I’m being mean?”

Crap, maybe you shouldn’t have said it like that. It would be smart of you to try and take it back, but sense is starting to leave you with every drop of arousal your pussy drips. You nod frantically instead.

“Ah. I think I get it.” Minho’s calmness is unsettling. The paddle travels a few inches lower until it catches your clit. You gasp, briefly thrashing against your restraints from the texture. The object has barely been on you for a second, but you're already wildly thrusting your hips for friction.

Surprisingly, Minho lets you. He keeps the plastic in place while you grind away. Your breasts giggle and you can hear the soft jingle of the clamps near your ears. There’s so much arousal on your pussy that there’s no need for lube when it rubs your clit repeatedly. The paddle grows embarrassingly wet, white cream beginning to collect on the surface. It doesn’t take long before slick sounds start to fill the room. 

Minho tuts annoyingly. “You just wanna cum. Can’t get you to stay still and pretty for me without you humping like a dog.” The paddle presses harder against your cunt. The extra pressure makes you whine. His words do little to stop your hips. You only grind harder, trying to find that right angle to get yourself to cum.

It feels like bliss when you find it - having to plant your feet flat on the bed and ignore how your shoulders scream from being tugged on. Minho’s putting just the right amount of pressure. Your clit catches the paddle just right and begins to feel that warmth pooling in your tummy.

Just as your orgasm builds, Minho pulls away. The paddle leaves your soaking lips and you whine desperately. You can’t even complain about how close you were when harsh slaps land on your cunt. 

You arch your entire back off the bed, thighs still apart as you twitch and gasp.

“I haven’t cum either, you know.” Minho’s voice is cold. “I know how to hold out. I know how to be patient. Something a slut like you obviously can’t understand.” It comes back again, this time, hitting your bundle of nerves right on the spot.

You cry out. Tears seep into the fabric of your blindfold and you can feel your pussy throbbing. “I'm sorry! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

Minho tilts his head, though you can’t see. “You promise, huh?”

You shakily settle your hips back on the bed, nodding. “Yes. Yesyes, I do. I can wait.”

Something shifts in the room. That teasing, playful atmosphere turns dark. You can taste Minho’s terrible thoughts in the air. You can feel how he drags the paddle a little more cunningly on your inner thigh.  

He continues to trail it along your leg as he says, “We’ll see about that. I think if I just keep slapping this cute pussy of yours, you’ll just cum anyway.”

“I won’t.” You don’t even believe it yourself, but maybe Minho will buy it.

He laughs. “Right. How about this? You keep your legs open for 10 minutes - just 10 minutes - and if you don’t cum, I’ll let you tie me up.”

Him? Left helpless and deprived like you are? It’s almost too good to be true. A trick clearly disguised as a treat, but you have to ask. “What?”

You feel the paddle back between your thighs. Minho soothes your swollen flesh in false gentleness. “What do you mean ‘what’? Just imagine our roles reversed. Think of it as getting revenge. That’s if you can manage, though.”

Minho would look beautiful bound. His smirking face fading into lost pleasure. His cocky attitude turning needy. Domming isn’t really your thing in this relationship, but you’d be damned to pass up on this opportunity. 

You’re already nodding before the words come out. “Yes. Fuck yes. I can do it.”

When he laughs, it sounds far more genuine this time. Like the idea of you merely thinking you can win is hilarious to him. “Really? Okay then.” Minho pulls the paddle away again and you immediately tighten your body. You wait for the sting, the pain, the blinding pleasure, but all you feel is soft lips.

He giggles into your folds, “Good luck.”

[sadseungmin]

hi i love your dark concepts, i was wondering if you could do a DARK smut with multiple members? whichever you choose are fine, maybe chanlix or minchan? maybe a yandere smut or kidnapping?? :))

♡ being the play-thing of psychotic (eldest) hyung-line ♡

psychotic bang chan/lee minho x afab reader | dead dove | nsfw (MDNI)

p.s. i hope this is to your liking, anon!

⚠︎ tw: non-con elements (i.e. forced orgasms, forced exhibitionism), physical violence, pet play

You were always warned to never be trusting of strangers; that you're gambling with your life whenever your guard is down and your heart is open. The darkest intentions often hide behind the prettiest of smiles and the doe-iest of eyes, and yet, you still fell for Chan's and Minho's charms. So when the two men invite you to their lavish mansion on the outskirts of town for a night of drinking and good conversation, you happily accept.

That night, as you nurse your cool glass of Pinot Grigio, you can't help but notice how beautiful the two men look under the soft glow of the chandeliers hanging above—how well they complement one another, and how their gazes are locked on you so intensely, it's slightly unnerving. It's your last coherent thought before your eyes grow heavier and Chan's and Minho's voices sound distant. Dizziness washes over you, and just before the glass slips from your fingers, you realize...

You had gambled and lost. ˏˋ° ♱ *⁀➷

『 ↳♡･ﾟbreaking-in their new toy ೃ ♱

Psychotic Chan and psychotic Minho are meticulous in their shared obsession with you, deriving pleasure from controlling every aspect of your existence, starting with the dismantling of your bodily autonomy. They are devoted to breaking and possessing you entirely, using a variety of disturbing rituals and methods to ensure you serve your purpose as the perfect toy.

How it begins...

You awake in a dimly lit room, naked with your limbs tied tightly to the posts of a bed. Chan approaches first with a calm demeanor and a façade of gentleness. He caresses your tear-streaked face, whispering false assurances before moving his hands lower. His touch is slow, cold, and calculating. He speaks softly, telling you how beautiful you are and how much he and Minho needs you, all while ignoring your loud pleas to stop.

"Your screams are so pretty, baby. Too bad no one will hear them; this room is soundproof, after all."

Minho watches from the corner of the room, a smirk on his lips and his eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure. When Chan signals, Minho finally steps forward and approaches. He roughly grabs your inner thigh, his grip bruising your skin.

"You're gonna be good for us, and in return, we'll make you feel good too."

『 ↳♡･ﾟdaddy-kitten dynamic ೃ ♱

Chan and Minho revel in the power and control they have over you—their personal play-thing, their little kitten. This manifests in a twisted daddy-kitten dynamic, where your submission is not only expected but brutally enforced.

psychotic!chan is calculating; he enjoys toying with your mind and forcing you to submit through psychological manipulation. His orders are clear and absolute, and any hint of disobedience is met with severe punishment.

psychotic!minho prefers to be the enforcer, using his strength to dominate, leaving bruises and welts on your skin as reminders of their control. Minho loves the sight of your tears and your desperate, pathetic pleas for mercy.

How is this dynamic enforced...?

collaring and leashing: Chan gets you a custom-made collar, the first of many to come. The leather collar is baby pink (because, according to him, all kittens love that color) and is adorned with a golden pendant that reads: "Minchan's Little Kitten". He attaches a matching leash, leading you around and forcing you to perform degrading tasks. Whenever you're disobedient or hesitant to perform a task, Chan's favorite thing to do is choke you by pulling tightly on your leash.

"I know, kitten, I know. You can't breathe, right? That's because you didn't listen. The directions were fucking clear, weren't they? On the floor with your face down, ass up and arched, knees spread far apart, and hands holding your cheeks open. Now, let's try again, kitten."

impact play: Minho uses whips, paddles, and his hands to discipline you, and his strikes are always precise and powerful. The pain is a reminder of your place, and the bruises and welts left behind are a testament to your complete submission. Minho loves putting you over his lap and spanking your bare ass and pussy with repeated heavy-handed strikes.

"God, you're pathetic. Crying like a big baby, yet your pussy is just as wet as your face. Begging for me to stop, but your pussy is drooling all over my slacks. You're enjoying this, huh? You're a sick little kitty. Only sick kittens would enjoy being punished like this."

edging and denial: Chan takes pleasure in edging you to the point of tears, bringing you repeatedly to the brink of orgasm before cruelly denying you release until you're nothing but a trembling, desperate mess. He enjoys using a variety of toys—clit lickers, vibrating nipple clamps, fuck machines—to force these orgasms from you. He loves watching your body writhe around helplessly as tears bead in your eyes and drool slips from your parted lips.

"Bratty kittens like you don't deserve to cum. Sob all the fuck you want; it changes nothing. I don't care how red and swollen your pussy gets, or how much your tummy cramps—you haven't shown that you deserve to cum. That's not how kittens get what they want."

forced exhibitionism: As much as they enjoy sharing you between just themselves, they especially love making you perform in front of their closest friends to further shame and degrade you. Donning nothing more than cat ears, a collar, and a skimpy bra and panty set, every touch and forced orgasm is witnessed by six additional pairs of eyes. It's humiliating being seen like this, even more so to be repeatedly creaming and squirting and moaning from the attention of so many mouths, hands, and cocks. With all your holes properly stuffed and filled, how can you form coherent thoughts of shame or embarrassment?

"Look how cock-drunk you are, y/n. Mmm, you're completely ruined, kitty. You definitely belong to us now. Who else would want a mind-broken, cock-obsessed, slutty kitten like you, hm? Who else is gonna appreciate your filthy, stretched out cunt, huh? You were clearly made for us, and us alone."

[silantryoo]

BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — the last great american dynasty, pt 1.

jang wonyoung, throughout the years.

WARNINGS ; misogyny, toxic household, infidelity, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, absent parents, mentions of affair families, hints of eating disorders, overworking, health issues, fatphobia, implied depression, implied teenage pregnancy (5.5k)

jang wonyoung was born on august 31, 2004.

the newborn was nine pounds and twenty-one inches. with a head of dark, thick hair, the baby's cries rang throughout the hospital room as a tired jang jiyoung could feel the tears welting in her eyes. her baby was alive, and healthy by the sound of it. it was music to her ears.

her baby. her beautiful baby.

she could already imagine it. her beautiful baby boy, inheriting the jang name, passing it on. he'd run for office, just like his father, upholding its integrity, its strength. jiyoung would introduce him to one of her costar's friends, and they'd get married. he'd take care of her, as jiyoung would help his pregnant wife get settled into the family.

she loved her baby boy. her perfect little wonyoung.

"what would you like to name her?"

jiyoung's heart dropped.

her?

"i'm sorry?"

she must've heard wrong. it was just the post-labor haze that had been talking. not only would wonseok reprimand her for not producing an heir to the jang name, but she wouldn't have anyone to take care of her once she grew old.

at least, not someone capable.

the baby's cries continued, almost as if the baby was begging for a glimpse of its mom. with tiny little hands outstretched in the direction of jiyoung, tears poured down its chubby cheeks.

her baby. her baby girl.

"wonyoung." she said half-heartedly. "i'll name her jang wonyoung."

jang wonyoung was imperfect from the start.

her cheeks were too chubby.

any normal four-year-old would have been praised. chubby cheeks were a sign of health, a sign that your baby was eating well.

wonyoung knew it from the way her mom would stare at her, sometimes even pinching her cheeks harshly, almost as if she was trying to pull off the fat on them.

she tried to ignore it, always opting to color peacefully and blink the tears away.

she always drew four people.

her mom, hair flowing to her shoulders, her eyes the same doe-eyed ones as wonyoung. wonyoung always drew her with an angry expression. it was only on tv that wonyoung saw her smile. the youngest jang always stayed up to see her mom smile.

one day, she wanted to see it in person.

her dad was there too, who she rarely saw, but always held a frown whenever he came home. she noticed that he always smelt different, sometimes like the dark, but other times, like flowers. her dad was always serious, even when he was with her mom.

there was also her nanny, a middle-aged woman named hannah, drawn with a smile that made wonyoung feel warm and safe. from what she told wonyoung, she had been working for jiyoung back when she was lee.

wonyoung wondered if her mom smiled back then.

lastly, in the middle, the four-year-old stood. she'd draw herself out in blue crayon, holding her parents' hands with a happy smile. she wished they had a photo like that, instead of the rigid ones that they kept above the fireplace.

hopefully, she'd get a younger sibling soon, so she could love more people.

"enough drawing, wonyoung." her mom snatched her masterpiece away, eyebrows furrowed like the pictures. "your dad is coming home soon."

"he is?" she hoped that he smelt like flowers again.

"he is." jiyoung's face hardened. "you have to go to your room now."

"but i want to see him." she hadn't seen her dad in two months. her mom always said he was at the office, helping the next candidate for the upcoming election (whatever that meant). wonyoung didn't care though. all she wanted was to see her dad again.

jiyoung let out a long sigh, and wonyoung could feel the guilt starting to build up in her chest.

did she make her mom mad again?

"he's in a bad mood, wonyoung." her lips were in a tight line, and wonyoung could see her jaw clenching.

she just wanted her mom to smile at her for once. she wanted to stop making her angry, and her dad happy.

the young girl's eyes brightened, her cheeks turning a light red.

"i can cheer him up!" her dad always laughed at her jokes. if she could get him to smile, wonyoung was sure she could make him feel better. "my friend, sarang, taught me a magic trick. if i can just show dadd-"

"i said," her mom's voice was strict and firm, not the smooth melody she heard on tv. "go to your room, wonyoung."

"but-" wonyoung could cheer him up! she knew she could.

jiyoung sighed. of course, wonyoung would disobey her. she shouldn't have expected anything else from the younger girl.

"do you want him to be mad at you?" the older woman scolded her, jiyoung's finger pointing at the four-year-old in front of her. "do you want him to know that you're a stupid little girl who doesn't listen to her mom?"

stupid.

wonyoung hadn't heard that word before, not until now. her mom had always called her other things; annoying, loud, irritating, but she had never heard stupid before.

she didn't know why it made her feel bad.

"what?" wonyoung could feel herself shrinking into her seat, gripping onto the blue crayon in her hand. "what's stupid?"

"you." jiyoung's eyes were numb, void of all emotions. wonyoung hated it when her mom looked at her like that. "you're being an annoying, stupid little girl right now."

stupid? was she stupid?

wonyoung could feel herself crying.

she didn't want to be stupid. she just wanted to make her dad happy. she just wanted to spend time with him, even when he smelt weird, like the cabinet her mom would open frequently.

"i just wanna see daddy..." wonyoung hiccuped. her lip quivered as her mom glared at her, huffing.

her mom was mad. it was wonyoung's fault, again.

maybe wonyoung was a stupid little girl.

she didn't want to be stupid.

"he doesn't wanna see you." jiyoung whispered, her voice piercing the young jang.

wonyoung hung her head low.

she knew it deep down. she knew that her dad's laughs were to shoo her away. wonyoung could see it by the way he looked at her, and no matter how hard she tried, no matter how funny her jokes were, wonseok wouldn't look her way. even when she showed him her drawings, all he would do was nod.

wonyoung was a stupid girl.

"go to your room, wonyoung."

wonyoung nodded, her bottom lip quivering as she packed up her crayons. she cradled the box against her body, rushing upstairs as jiyoung poured herself a glass of wine.

the four-year-old swung the door open, jumping into her already-made bed. the box of crayons squished against the pale blue covers, various pinks, and reds staining them. it was warm in her room, blindingly bright for a night at 9pm. if wonyoung wasn't crying so much, she'd ask hannah to turn down the lamp and turn on her rabbit night light.

she loved rabbits. they looked like her mom.

"wonyoung." hannah laughed at the little girl, sitting beside her faced-down head. "your crayons."

wonyoung stayed quiet, letting her bed soak up the tears pouring down her face. she tried her best to be quiet, to not disturb anyone, just like her mom taught her.

hannah could still hear her sniffling, though.

the older woman rubbed the back of wonyoung's shirt, feeling the young heiress gasping for air. "what's wrong?"

wonyoung lifted her head up, squinting as she tried to adjust to the room's brightness. she could see the han river from where she was, the water glistening into the jang household.

the four-year-old looked at her caretaker, the kind woman smiling at her.

"mama told me to go up here." her voice was as tiny as she was. "she said daddy was coming, and that he was upset."

wonyoung was upset too, but she was okay with being upset if it meant wonseok would look her way.

"why are you crying then?"

she was crying because she was stupid. she was crying because she never got to spend time with her dad, and her mom only looked her way when wonyoung listened to her.

she was crying because she was jang wonyoung, and her parents didn't want jang wonyoung.

"mama said i can't see him." she hummed as the nanny stroked her hair, comfort washing throughout her body. "he'd get mad at a stupid girl like me."

hannah frowned.

she was worried that jiyoung would turn out like this, bitter and cruel to the younger girl. jiyoung had always resembled her mother, even back when the eldest lee was a baby. hannah had always hoped that she wouldn't hold the same parenting style as her.

"wonyoung." hannah bit back the quiver of her voice. no girl, especially someone as sweet as the young heiress, should ever think of themselves in such a way. "don't call yourself stupid. you're a very smart girl."

wonyoung shook her head. every word her parents had said was a sense of truth to the young child. every glare, every sigh made her feel sad. it made her hurt.

it made her feel worthless.

(but the four year-old didn't know that word yet, and it wouldn't be a couple years until she did. but it didn't matter, because she knew it felt the same when she was four as it did when she was twenty.)

"mama said i was." her voice was as little as she was.

jiyoung was her mother in every sense, just like she always wanted to be. hannah hoped wonyoung wouldn't meet the same fate.

"she's just stressed out right now." she felt guilty lying to the young girl, even though it was partial. "don't listen to her."

wonyoung wanted to believe hannah, so she nodded, sitting up and allowing herself to accept the excuse.

hannah smiled, her grin sending a warmth through wonyoung's body that made her feel loved. she wished that her mom would smile at her that way, but she didn't mind that it was hannah.

the woman looked at wonyoung's bed sheets, stained with the young girl's tears and her crayons.

"do you wanna help me clean this up?" hannah asked, watching as the four year-old's eyes lit up.

wonyoung always wanted to help her.

it made her miss her daughter.

"can i show you a magic trick first?" the young jang smiled, her chubby cheeks protruding from her face.

"a magic trick?" hannah asked gleefully. she pinched wonyoung's cheek lightly, trying her best to control her giddiness. she didn't understand how anyone could hate her this child. "our baby knows a magic trick?"

"can i?" wonyoung grabbed a crayon from the box, waiting for hannah's answer.

"of course, wonyoung."

wonyoung felt perfect.

wonyoung was stupid.

she didn't understand how she could get a 78% in english. perhaps she had been too enamored by their english teacher, the young woman from overseas who had cat-like eyes and a soft, comforting voice that felt like a blanket.

still, she should be doing better. she had gone to an english speaking preschool. most of her friends spoke english as well. she even had cousins across the planet that lived in english speaking countries.

the young heiress felt herself tense as she heard her father sigh beside her. her teacher, pretty and proper, sat in front of them, alongside the principal. only a dark mahogany desk separated the two parties, but wonyoung wished it was more.

"a tutor?" jang wonseok voice was sharp, yet deep and demanding. "why would she need a tutor?"

she needed a tutor because she was stupid. wonyoung was a stupid girl.

she held her tongue back, the knot in her throat increasing as she felt her father radiate anger.

"wonyoung is struggling in english." the eight year-old could hear the worry in her teacher's voice, but she didn't know if it was directed at her or at her father. "it's normal for kids her age too, but she has a hard time with the structure."

the young heiress wanted to go home. she wanted to sit in her dark room, in her closet behind the mahogany doors, the one that had twelve knots, an imperfection that was smooth to the touch.

it was the only imperfection she could bear because jang's can't come with imperfections.

wonyoung wished she wasn't a jang, or at the very least, she wasn't wonyoung.

"if it's normal then why does my daughter need it?" the young jang didn't need to turn to know that her father was scowling at the pretty girl in front of them. she could already hear it in his voice.

"well, since you did sign her up for the advanced placement in our school, it'll be hard for her to keep up with the class." her teacher was calm. wonyoung liked calm. "a tutor would help her and-"

"my daughter doesn't need a tutor."

she did. wonyoung knew she did.

but her father rarely acknowledged her, much less as his daughter. part of her had wondered if he did it purposefully, but it didn't matter. not right now, at least.

"right, wonyoung?"

wonyoung couldn't continue to be a disappointment.

"no."

"get up." her father smirked. he stood up, dusting his tailored dress pants. "we're leaving."

"yes, dad."

obedience was perfection, just like status was worth.

wonyoung just wished that it didn't have to break a part of her every time she did it.

jang wonseok stormed out, and wonyoung could feel the embarrassment fluttering across her chest. her eyes met her principal's, his face scowled in disdain.

jang's had pride, but wonyoung knew better than to leave as such.

the eight-year-old bowed. she bowed as an apology for her and her father and as a sign of respect for the two school staff who took time out of their way out of concern for her.

"jang wonyoung!"

her eyes widened, and wonyoung found herself bolting out of the room, her school bag clutched against her chest.

jang wonseok was scary.

the two made their way into wonseok's mercedes, wonyoung hopping inside, as her father started the car.

the two drove in silence, wonyoung knowing better than to speak once spoken to. she didn't want to anger her father any further, otherwise it would fall onto her mother, which would fall onto her.

she didn't have time for that. she needed to study.

her stomach grumbled lowly, the sudden sound making her head jolt up.

oh, she needed to eat too. she had forgotten about that along the way, too anxious about the parent-teacher meeting that happened to eat lunch earlier that day.

she needed to eat and then study. if she studied as soon as she got home, she would have time to draw or watch cartoons without sacrificing her grades.

was she even allowed to watch cartoons now? her mother had always called them nonsense but wonyoung liked to turn off her brain once in a while. maybe that's why she was stupid. maybe that's why she was like this.

or maybe she was just like this because she was wonyoung.

"your teacher pisses me off." wonseok turned the corner. "is she always like that?"

did she always care about wonyoung? yes, more than her father did.

but she wasn't going to tell him that.

"no."

"hm." wonseok hummed, the car coming to a halt as the traffic light turned red. he glanced at his daughter, gaze cold and stern. "you shouldn't be struggling, wonyoung. that's not how i raised you."

the young heiress wasn't raised by her father or her mother. at eight, she already knew that, and it angered her to think that they kept trying to take credit for her actions, whether it be good or bad.

hannah raised her. not jang wonseok.

but she still held his last name, like how his blood flowed through her veins, and how his title affected her daily life.

"you're a jang." the car started to move again. "jang's don't need help. you think my father helped me? you think he made me how i am?"

part of her wondered if her grandfather had treated her father like this, or if her father was just mean to be mean.

"do you understand what i'm saying?"

wonyoung nodded, obedient as ever. "yes."

"when you get home, i expect you to be studying." wonyoung frowned. her father would most likely be in his study, one that had a clear view of the kitchen. "hannah will keep an eye on you."

"hannah's sick." she was in no shape to take care of the young jang. in fact, wonyoung had been taking care of her. "she should stay in her room. i can just ask my friends-"

"how much do you know, wonyoung?" wonseok asked, practically waving her shortcomings in front of her face. the young girl stayed silent. "exactly. and your friends know as much as you do. hannah will be making sure you stay on track."

wonyoung knew better than to argue, so she listened like she always did.

"yes, dad."

wonyoung wished she could stop listening, just this once.

there were twelve knots on the inside of her mahogany-boarded closet. four were broken in half, caught in between doors while the rest scattered.

there were fifty slits on said doors, one hundred in total. she liked the way the light peaked in, and how warm she felt when it hit her face.

there were three pillows that scattered the ground in said closet. one was bunny-shaped, pastel blue with beady eyes that wonyoung had gotten for her ninth birthday. the other two were throw pillows, white in color, ones that her mother had given her this year, on her tenth.

the hard, cold ground was covered with a blanket, navy blue and fluffy, one that hadn't been washed in over two months. wonyoung's initials were stitched onto the side, but it was only a reminder that she and this closet, her escape, were owned by her father.

it was her father who owned this house, who owned her existence, just like he owned a second child.

her father was a cheater. wonyoung had heard it in between slits of the one hundred panels that made up the majority of her closet's entrance.

"cheater!" she heard.

"liar!" she heard.

crying, she heard.

she wished she could stop hearing it in her head, how her mother's sharp cries echoed in her skull, and how jiyoung blamed everything on the ten-year-old jang wonyoung.

it's my fault.

it always was.

a shadow passed through the holes of her closet, blocking the sunlight as it reached her eyes. wonyoung wondered how long she had been inside, the fighting reaching its climax at around four that morning.

she only wanted to study.

the shadow stayed still as if it was contemplating leaving. the young jang hoped that it was her mother, coming to apologize for the careless words that she had yelled an hour ago.

but jang jiyoung never apologized, just like she never cried.

the shadow spoke.

"wonyoung..."

the young jang stood up, opening the opposite door in a hurry.

the ten-year-old grabbed her arm, bracing it gently as the older woman smiled. she could see hannah holding a cup of water, waves rippling with each shake of her hand.

"you should be resting." she furrowed her eyebrows.

hannah merely stared, not budging as the young heiress felt herself getting more desperate.

wonyoung begged. "hannah, please."

"i'm not leaving until we talk." the older woman shook her head, standing her ground.

hannah was like her, stubborn in every sense. she cared too much to let wonyoung wallow in her sorrows. the young jang knew she would be lost without her guidance.

"can you at least sit?" wonyoung tried to reason, ushering hannah to her bed.

she nodded, allowing wonyoung to lead her. she sat down, handing wonyoung the glass, who took it carefully as if hannah was the one that was fragile.

the two sat in silence, and all hannah could remember was wonyoung at four years old, crying about her mother.

it was no different this time.

"it's not your fault." the older woman started. "your mom is just angry."

jiyoung was an angry person, like wonseok.

but wonseok wanted calm, and jiyoung hadn't been the person to provide that.

"do you think she would be happier if i was never born?" wonyoung asked, her thoughts echoing the shouting of her mother.

hannah couldn't fathom anyone saying such words about their child.

"if i could, i would." the ten-year-old wonyoung meant it truthfully. "i don't like seeing mom upset. i keep trying to fix it but i'm just too..."

wonyoung knew the word. she had felt it at four years old. she had felt it at eight. wonyoung was sure she wasn't going to stop feeling it until she died.

she knew the word because it's what she was.

"worthless."

the word that summed her up in all parts hung in the air as hannah stared at her in shock.

"wonyoung-"

"i am though!" wonyoung never raised her voice, but wonyoung wasn't perfect. she never was and never would be. "if i wasn't like this, mom would love me. dad would pay attention to me. he wouldn't have cheated if i was better."

wonyoung wondered how someone could be so imperfect. she wondered if she was doomed to be alone, to be unwanted, and to ruin every good thing on this planet.

"it's my fault."

"it's not, wonyoung." wonyoung wanted to believe hannah, but she couldn't this time. "your mom and your dad have a very complicated relationship."

wonyoung shook her head. she was the reason it was complicated.

"i wish dad would stop yelling at mom." wonyoung placed the still full glass on her counter. "i wish mom would stop yelling at me."

wonyoung didn't remember a time when her mother didn't yell at her. whether it was a bad grade or to wash the dishes, it was always a yell.

"i'm at the top of my class. i'm friends with all the people dad told me to be friends with. i even skipped a grade. everyone keeps telling them that they want a daughter like me, but mom and dad don't even want me." wonyoung just wanted someone to want her. "i don't know what to do anymore."

if she could, wonyoung would disappear.

"you're ten, wonyoung." this wasn't right, not for anyone and especially not for a ten-year-old. "you don't have to do anything."

wonyoung really wanted to believe her.

"i just want them to love me."

the young heiress had wished the unconditional love that everyone had talked about applied to her when it came to her parents. she had heard that it was supposed to happen as soon as she was born.

perhaps she missed out this time, in this life, because in this life, she was worthless.

but not to hannah. never to hannah.

"i love you."

wonyoung had never felt love from her mother, but she had always felt love from hannah.

"you do?"

"i do." hannah smiled sadly. it hurt to know that wonyoung had felt this way (and how there was a chance that her baby felt the same, wherever she was). "i know how complicated families can be..."

wonyoung had never heard hannah speak about her family, but she knew that the older woman would be a good, if not amazing one.

part of her was jealous that someone out there had a mom like hannah, when she had a mom like jiyoung.

"do you have family, hannah?"

the woman, hands shakey, grasped them together tightly. her lips were pursed, and a mournful expression seemed to overtake the comforting one from before.

"i have a daughter back home." her baby was nine pounds and twenty-one inches with a head full of hair. when hannah closed her eyes, she could hear her baby crying for her mother. "i had her really young."

her baby. her beautiful baby girl.

"do you miss her?" wonyoung asked.

"i miss her a lot." missing her was an understatement. "i haven't heard from her in years."

"why?"

she could think of a million reasons why, all of which she held to herself, in grief and in sorrow.

hannah was a bad mother for abandoning her child, and a bad daughter for being so reckless.

"i grew up really poor." hannah couldn't even begin to compare the jang's house to the one she had back home. "i couldn't find a job, so i moved overseas. i left my baby with my mom."

but her child lived, and her child was loved, even from afar.

"do you love her?"

"i do." hannah couldn't think about not loving her. "i love her so much."

"but you left her."

"i left because i loved her." wonyoung's eyes glistened at the word. she couldn't imagine leaving someone out of love. perhaps disappearing, but leaving was unfathomable. "i'd rather have her grow up hating me than die starving. i just wish i can go back. i just wanna my baby one more time."

this was the unconditional love that everyone had praised. it was the homemade bento boxes, and the tight hugs that wonyoung would see from her friends and their moms. it was the tearful goodbyes from her best friend's grandparents, and the thoughtful notes that her seatmate would find in her bag.

to love someone is to do what's best for them, to do the right thing.

was wonyoung the best for her parents? were her parents the best for wonyoung?

did they even love her?

"you're a good mom, hannah." wonyoung hugged her tightly. "i wish you were my mom."

wonyoung couldn't imagine it, having someone risk everything just for her to be happy. she couldn't imagine loving someone so much, but one day, whether it be a child or someone else, she would love to.

wonyoung wanted to love someone right.

she looked at the tearful hannah, the older woman smiling down at her.

"i promise that when i'm older, i'll make sure you can go back and see your family again."

it was a promise that wonyoung intended to keep.

"thank you, wonyoung."

hannah didn't doubt her. not for one second.

the jang's were never good at keeping promises.

jang wonseok was a politician. keeping promises and breaking them was part of the territory. every campaign he held at least a couple empty pledges, just like he did back home. the twelve-year-old jang wonyoung knew that.

plus, there was no way she'd actually believe what her father said. not after he betrayed her mother.

jang jiyoung was no better. being a news anchor, she had always run a tight schedule. for days, wonyoung wouldn't see her despite each promise that the woman would make, and although she didn't mind, sometimes the young jang did want someone to eat dinner with, even if it was just a cup of instant noodles they could share.

wonyoung thought she was different. that she was hannah's daughter and not a jang.

but it ran in her blood.

"hannah knew me before i knew her."

the microphone echoed, the twelve-year-old's shakey hands grasping tightly onto the paper in front of her, her fingerprints making light marks against the blank white.

"she went with my mom to get an ultrasound when she was pregnant with me." her parents were nowhere to be seen, her father at a meeting and her mother at work. "they said i was a big baby, but hannah said i was a special baby."

to love someone is to do the right thing. letting go was the right thing.

"i don't think i'm special. i think i'm just wonyoung." the crowd laughed. hannah would've laughed too. "hannah was the special one. she knew how to make me feel better. she knew when i was sick before i got sick. she even knew the weather before it happened."

wonyoung didn't want to let go, but she would, for hannah.

"hannah told me that she hadn't seen her baby in a while." she hoped hannah's baby knew how loved she was, and she hoped that her words could reach her, even if it was far away. "i promised her that when i was older, i would make sure she saw them."

the jang's were known to break promises.

"i thought she was gonna live forever. i wanted her to live forever, or just long enough so i can keep my promise. for once, i just wanted to make her feel better. hannah always made me feel better." wonyoung didn't know when the page got so blurry, or why water was pouring out of her eyes. "i thought if i loved her enough, i could fix it. i could do it."

she didn't know how she managed to fail the one person who believed in her.

"i want to apologize to her today. i should've tried harder." she had everything. why couldn't she try harder to give hannah this one? she might've been a twelve-year-old, but still. "i'm sorry, hannah. i'm really really sorry."

to love someone is to do the right thing, but wonyoung realized it was also to mourn, and to be angry at herself for not being better. her failures stared her in the face, the casket mocking her as if she was nothing.

she didn't want to think about it anymore. she had failed, and wonyoung wanted nothing more than for this pain to be gone.

sighing, she stepped down from the lectern.

hannah was her own. her mother.

and like a shadow, she was gone.

death seemed to round the corners of the jang household.

she could see boxes upon boxes piling up in front of their penthouse, her mother glaring into the distance half-heartedly, conflicted with her pain.

jang jiyoung was a lee once. she was the younger sister of lee jihuyn, and the aunt of the ten-year-old lee hyunseo.

lee jihyun always smelt like flowers whenever she was around. it was no wonder why jang wonseok was so fond of her.

"this is hyunseo." her father said, patting the heiress on her shoulder. it pained wonyoung to see him so happy to have his affair child around, especially after- no. wonyoung didn't deserve to think about her again. "she'll be staying with us."

wonyoung nodded bowing as the younger girl stared at her in wonder.

"hello, hyunseo."

wonseok smiled at the young girl in a way wonyoung never got when she was hyunseo's age. "wonyoung will show you your room."

wonyoung's face twitched in disdain before switching into a soft smile.

she led hyunseo up to hann a room, unoccupied yet cleared of any existence that came before it.

hyunseo didn't deserve this room.

wonyoung turned to the younger girl. "this is your ro-"

"can i call you unnie?" the lee couldn't help but gleam at her, her eyes bright as the han river glared back into her new room. "i never had an unnie before. it was just me, mom and dad all the time."

wonyoung bit back a scowl.

her dad. hyunseo was lucky she had a dad.

"i'll ask the butlers to bring your stuff up." wonyoung couldn't help but be cold. "i have a school tour to go to."

"oh..." she watched as the younger girl deflated, and wonyoung couldn't help but feel guilty. hyunseo bounced back, though, her expression brighter than before.

"okay!"

wonyoung didn't understand how she could be so happy.

wonyoung had never been to a public school.

her father and mother had always opted to have her in a private one, yet the presence of a public school with such a reputation around their area had the jang's interested.

wonyoung had to agree that the high school was fairly nice. it had its own swimming pool, and it was clearly popular among international students, wonyoung seeing a few as she passed by.

everything else was pretty much the same as every other school, though. nothing stood out, at least nothing of interest.

the heiress found herself walking back to the entrance, scrolling through her phone to get her butler to pick her up. as she dialed, screams and cheers could be heard from the gym.

she should've known better than to enter, but wonyoung's facade was wearing her down. the newly impulsive jang crept inside, more and more yelling filling her skull. it wasn't angry yelling, but a cheerful one.

she didn't understand what could be so interesting.

the heiress felt herself getting swept away, a sudden crowd forming around one of the players as the final whistle blew.

her eyes trained onto the figure, two adults, seemingly the girl's parents, hugging her tightly as the girl cried.

the girl was perfect in every sense, from her face to the way she smiled. she didn't doubt that the older girl probably had perfect grades, and a perfect family, with a set of perfect friends.

the crowd around her roared, and wonyoung realized that the girl in front of her was so loved, so respected, all because she was perfect.

to love someone is to do the right thing.

one day, she'd be perfect enough to have her parents love her. one day, she'll feel like she wasn't a mistake, that she wasn't worthless.

and one day, someday, wonyoung would be perfect enough to mention her name once more.

she'll do the right thing this time.

wonyoung was going to be perfect.

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Nightlife 18

Warnings: dubcon, noncon, touching, coercion, manipulation, violence. Proceed with caution.

Note: I know what you’re thinking, why the fuck are you doing this? Well, you wanted bouncer Lee and I did too. Also, short!reader, not sorry.

Part of The Club AU

A long moan slips from between your lips. Your dewy cheek presses to the bedspread as your thigh clench, throbbing from inside as the swirling stirs your wits. You clutch the edge of the bed, gasping as Lee laps loudly behind you.

“Mmm, darlin’,” he murmurs against you, dragging two fingers along your leg. You quiver and he chuckles, the rumble rolling through you, “just relax…”

He lets the last letter drawl out as he places his mouth against your ass and nips at the tender flesh. His fingertips circle your hole and you squeeze your muscles tight. He purrs, teasing you as he prods and rubs you.

“I said… relax,” he pulls his fingers asay and you hear the wet noise if his mouth sucking, “I just wan’ make you feel good, baby.”

He touches your ring with slobbery fingers, spreading his spit around as he pokes against the resistance. You hiss and he once more pinches your cheek with his teeth. He hushes you as he dips a fingertip slowly into you.

You yipe and throw your head up at the intrusion. You slap a hand on the mattress, the bounce urging him further in. He sucks on your flesh, a welt forming with the pressure as he buries past his first knuckles. He wiggles in you, slipping back and in again. He works your hole, loosening you with short but gentle thrusts.

You tremble, the pressure mingling with the burn of his invasion. You never felt anything like that. It's painful yet delicious. It's only the shock of your own shame that keeps you tense. You've never done this before, never even thought of doing it.

“Lee….” You wisp, “you said… wait… we'll wait…”

“We gon’ wait,” he snarls against your ass, rocking his hand as he presses a second finger against your hole, “this ain't… ain't nothing. Just a bit of fun.”

“Please…” You gulp and your eyes roll back as you bite your tongue.

“That's it, kitten, you like it, huh? Gonna purr for me, ain't ya?”

His breath fans damply over your flesh as you grasp at the blankets. Your back arches and your toes curl. His other hand creeps up and tickles along your folds, slick as he fingers glide between them. He finds your clit, rubbing lightly as he adds to the flames licking at your core.

You hold your breath as the pressure boils and quakes in you. You drop your head and cry out, spasming as the tension unties. Your legs go slack and you heave into the mattress, murmuring as he coos sweetly against your skin.

He slips his fingers out, little by little, and moves to lick you again. He twirls his tongue around, still teasing your clit. He hums and raises his head, resting his chin on the cusp of your ass.

“Ya ain't so sad now, are ya?”

You shudder, unable to speak as your mind lay in pieces. As good as it feels, there's still a part of you afraid of it. The way he never really asks, but does as he pleases.

🌸

“Got a big surprise for ya,” Lee swings your arm as he clings to your hand, “ya excited?”

“A surprise?” You wonder as he walks you down the pavement to the curb.

“Can't spoil it. You just get in and see,” he winks and kisses your forehead. He stops and looks you up and down, “you look so good, my blossom flower.”

“Oh,” you glance down at your red coat and pale blue jeans, “I do?”

“You always do to me,” he grins, “but I think I know something suits ya better.”

You blink at his cryptic words. You don't quite get what he means. He opens the car door and you get in. You buckle up as he shuts it and goes around his side.

He flips on the radio, bopping his head to The Ronettes as he drives. It's a sunny day despite the cold. You watch the city pass outside the window and try to enjoy it. The shadow of your shortcoming never really leaves, it just fades into the background.

As the car pulls into a lot, you stare curiously at the bookstore in the corner of the plaza. You like books, that's a nice surprise. Lee gets out and stretches. You undo your seatbelt and follow him, keeping a hand on the car as you stare at the shop.

You set off across the lot without a second thought.

“Wow, wow,” Lee staggers after you and catches your hand, “where ya off to?”

“Oh, I was…” you turn back, “I thought we were going to look at books.”

“Maybe after,” he chuckles and he gives a dramatic look to the storefronts along the stretch of pavement, “anything else catch your eye?”

There's a hobby shop for a game you don't play and a butcher's. None of it really interests you. He tuts and squeezes your hand tighter, pulling you across the lot.

You look up as he approaches the store at the far end and plant your heels as you see the word ‘bridal’ in curly cursive. Oh!

“Lee, you don't mean…”

“Well, we gotta find you something pretty to wear, don't we?” He lets go of your hand and drapes his arms over your shoulders instead. “I'm not very superstitious. I don't mind a sneak peek.”

“I… I… maybe we should wait,” you sputter, heart beating wildly.

“Wait?” He pulls away completely, “for what?”

“Well, I don't know,” you glance at the windows. The dresses are so pretty but they all seem too much for you. “It's fast is all–”

“Well I'm darn serious about you,” he crosses his arms, “ain't you serious about me?”

“Um, y-yeah, but I just… I just flunked out and I'm still figuring things out.”

“What's there to figure out? You and me, that's all there is.”

“Right, but… but… what if I'm not ready?”

“Not ready for what? Not ready to be mine? Huh? Not ready for me to take care of ya? Sleepin’ in my bed, living under my roof… you been doin’ all that.”

“I'm sorry, I'm not… sorry, sir, it's just… I'm young. It's all new.”

“Young? You're grown. And it's new to me too. I ain't never married neither.”

“You haven't?”

“No, think I been waiting for you,” he softens, “come on, darlin’, I made an appointment and everything.”

“Uh, okay,” you gulp and face the bridal shop. He grabs your hand again and tugs you forward.

You're greeted inside by a woman in all black. She's pretty and elegant and older. You notice how her eyes skim between you and Lee, curious about your relation.

“We're gettin’ married,” he supplies, “appointment for Bodecker.”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Bodecker,” she smiles, “of course, can I take your coats?”

You let her take your red coat and he hands over his jacket. You’re led down a long hall, glimpsing other women standing before mirrors in ivory and pearl. Your stomach flipping and flopping.

You enter a room of your own, hangers lining the walls and a few hung on a rolling rack by the low podium before the mirrors.

“We chose a few pieces to your specifications,” the consultant explains, “if you wanna have a look, we can get you in one.”

“Go on,” Lee nudges you and sits on the bench.

You inch forward, letting the consultant take the lead. You keep your hands to yourself and eye the dress with the little flounce at the hem. She notices and unhooks it.

“This one first, follow me,” she waves you along with a gentle smile.

She hangs it inside a changing room and lets you know you can ask for help. You enter as she closes the door and you undress slowly. You step into the dress but can't reach the buttons.

The consultant enters as you reticent call. Her name is Grace, you read it on her name tag. She turns you to face the mirror as she helps button the back.

“Just you and your fiance?” She wonders.

“Mhmm,” you nod.

“That's alright,” she assures, “it's about the dress, right?”

You shrug as she gets the top button done. She looks at the mirror as you try to avoid your reflection.

“You look gorgeous, hon, why don't we go show him?”

You let her take you out, watching your feet as you walk the hallway back to the large room. You hear Lee suck in air as Grace takes you to the podium. You step up and she arranges the skirt around your legs.

“Wow,” is all Lee can say, “looking like the girl of my dreams, darlin'”

[ladylexis]

I Think You Know

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader, afab

Trope: Best friend's brother, friends to more

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: A little suggestive, but not smutty

The pungent scent of lilacs always reminds you of home. You inhale deeply, hands shoved in your pockets, as you walk up the street a couple blocks to your best friend Jina's house. 

After months of studying hard on the other side of the country, you've returned home for the first time since starting college last fall. Jina's spring break coincided with yours, so of course she begged you to fly home to finally catch up. Laughing until you cry on video calls into the wee hours of the morning each weekend has helped soothe your loneliness, yet nothing compares to the real deal of being in your best friend's presence. 

The refreshing chill of the evening air does little to calm your nerves, though. Even greater than your excitement to see Jina is your anxiety at the prospect of running into her brother, Minho. 

After almost two years of studying abroad and traveling for internships, Minho is back at his parents' house for the first time. You've kept up with your best friend's older brother some over the years, mostly butting in when he called Jina. 

Since he left, you've occasionally engaged with each other's Instagram posts. Whether silly, artistic, or merely mundane, Minho's photos almost always bring a bittersweet clench to your chest. When you see his figure framed off-center in front of glittering cityscapes or sunset-tinged coastlines you can't help but picture yourself tucked under his arm, your head resting casually on his shoulder. 

_____

Since you can remember, Minho was a fixture in your life. While playing on the swing set in their backyard, his protective presence always kept an eye on his little sister and you, her closest friend. Minho was quick to help you up after a less than graceful jump from the swing, smirking at the glasses askew on your nose. Unphased, you spun around to push Jina's swing even higher as he chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

As teens, Minho laughed ruthlessly while playing paintball, chasing you and Jina around their shed. She sought refuge at the back of the old pickup while you made a run for the oak tree to get a better vantage point.

Before you could dive behind the sturdy tree trunk, Minho managed to squeeze a shot off. The fierce glare hidden behind his facemask instantly melted into a softer expression the moment you yelped in pain while taking his round to your back, just missing the padding of your vest.

After rushing to the kitchen to fetch an ice pack, Minho returned to the living room to find you sitting on the couch, contorting in an effort to see the source of the pain. Ever the attentive gentleman, he offered to inspect the growing welt to see if your skin was broken. You nodded and turned to face the back of the sofa, gritting your teeth and trying not to focus on the stinging pain radiating from the minor injury. Minho considerately lifted your sweatshirt just enough to check the raised bump at the base of your shoulder blade. 

Chilled slightly from grabbing the ice pack, his cool fingertips innocently grazed your skin causing a warmth to spread through your chest. Minho drew in a quick breath, hand tightening its grip on the bundled fabric for a moment. Fearing the wound must look worse than you thought, you stuttered out a quick, "Is it that bad?!"

But before you could finish the question, he had quickly lowered the hem of your top and reached over your shoulder to shove the ice pack into your hands. 

"It's just bruised," he mumbled as he abruptly turned to head upstairs, taking them two at a time. 

A sharp sting brought your attention back to the predicament at hand. As you struggled to position the ice pack on the welt, you suddenly recalled that you were only wearing your black lace bralette under your sweatshirt. Mortified, you instinctively planted your face in the couch cushion to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. Just then, Jina stormed into the front door. Thinking she was winning for once, she finally realized she was left alone outside and came looking for the two of you. 

Ready to give you a piece of her mind, worry quickly replaced anger as Jina set her eyes on your crumpled form tucked into the corner of the couch. You reassured her that the welt was already feeling better thanks to Minho's quick rescue with the ice pack. Speaking of her brother, she asked where he had disappeared to. You weren't quite sure of the answer yourself, but you wondered for years afterwards if he had felt that same lick of heat in the moment.

_____

You skip up the familiar steps to Jina's front porch, and pause to take a deep breath in an effort to still your fluttering heart. Before you can even knock, the door flies open and Jina launches at you. She wraps you in a bear hug and hops to twine her legs around your hips. Squealing at a pitch you're sure would send her family's three cats into a frenzy, Jina peppers the side of your head with smooches and repeats how much she missed you. 

"Let her go before she passes out. She's already turning red!" 

Raising your eyes from Jina's embrace, you see him there, standing in the door frame. Although you can't quite make out his expression while he's silhouetted by the living room light flooding out the front door, Minho's eyes still manage to sparkle just like you remember. And it's back. Your crush on Minho tightens its tendrils around your heart. If only he knew the real reason your face was on fire.

Jina drops her feet to the ground with a pout. She turns to head inside, dragging you by the wrist and shouldering her annoying brother out of the way in the process. As you pass him you manage to squeak out a soft, "Hi, Min." 

"Nice to see you again, too!" he yells with increasing volume as Jina continues pulling you towards the kitchen. Shaking his head, Minho closes the front door and follows both of you to grab snacks for the TV night ahead. 

Jina settles into the middle of the sofa to share her bowl of popcorn while you stretch your blanket out enough to cover her as well. After sitting his armful of drinks down on the end table, Minho takes the last seat on the couch and immediately turns to flop his legs over Jina's lap.

"You're going to spill all the popcorn! And your legs are too heavy," Jina grunts as she pushes his thighs off her knees while you snicker from her other side. "Go sit on the loveseat!"

"Fine, fine," Minho sighs, rolling his eyes as he stands. "But I'm taking the remote with me! Hah!" 

He sprawls out on the loveseat and flicks the TV on. As the Netflix menu illuminates the room, Minho begins to scroll through the recommended shows. You can't help but eye the dancing shadows forming from the veins on his forearm as he points the remote at the television and periodically clicks buttons. Were those veins always there? 

You're shaken from your daydream by a subtle elbow to the rib. Jina leans closer to whisper in your ear, "Did you come to watch Netflix and chill with ME or my brother?"

You scoff and shove a handful of popcorn in Jina's mouth, shooting daggers at her with your eyes while she smirks, cheeks full. That damn Lee smirk must be hereditary.

"I've heard that series is really good," you pipe up as Minho passes the new releases in romantic K-Dramas. You expect a snarky retort from the reclining man, but he simply pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he backtracks and clicks play on your suggestion.

A steamy scene opens the show before the intro even starts, and you feel your face grow warm. You begin to second guess your recommendation as this is apparently not one of the sweet rom-com shows you are used to watching. No wonder everyone has been chatting it up on social media. Jina however is enthralled, judging by her wide eyes and seeming inability to find her own mouth as she bumps a popcorn kernel into her lips repeatedly before finally succeeding to eat it.

Minho is quiet through the first episode, but movement draws your attention from the TV when you notice him resituating on the loveseat, pulling a throw pillow onto his lap. You have to admit, the show is pretty hot, but seeing his profile again in person is getting you even more bothered. It looks like he might be affected as well.

Nearly two episodes later Jina is failing to keep her eyes open, head lolling towards the comforting support of your shoulder. Unable to resist the call of nature any longer, you gently pat her hair to stir her awake. 

"Hey, Min? Can you pause it while I run to the restroom?" you ask softly as you stand to stretch. He obliges immediately and a thin smile spreads across his face as he looks up at you, hair now messy from trying to find a comfortable position on the cramped loveseat. 

"I can't keep my eyes open," Jina mumbles through a yawn. "Don't stop watching on my account, though. I can catch up tomorrow."

She shuffles down the hall in the Hello Kitty slippers you won for her at an arcade in middle school. You hear the soft close of her door as you head into the bathroom. Rather than feeling jet-lagged and exhausted like you expect, your heart seems to be racing as your mind keeps conjuring images of you and Minho in the scenes the drama characters find themselves in. You have got to snap out of it, you think to yourself. Before leaving you wash your hands and splash cool water on your face, trying to knock the blush down a bit. 

Returning to the living room you find Minho has moved to the empty spot on the far side of the couch. His arm lifts the blanket you and Jina had been sharing. You freeze at the edge of the room, unsure how to proceed. Minho cocks his head and sends a few rapid blinks in your direction. He pats the couch cushion, inviting you to join him under the blanket. "What?," he says, "The couch is comfier and I was getting chilly. Shall we continue?"

You gingerly slide under the blanket at the opposite end of the couch. Although your face seems to get warmer and warmer, you have to admit the air temperature is dropping. You pull your legs up to your side beneath the blanket. Pointing the remote at the television, he plays the next episode and you snuggle back into the cozy warmth of the plush sofa. 

As you become engrossed in the show again, you absentmindedly stretch your legs across the center cushion. Craving warmth, your toes become heat-seeking missiles and begin to work their way under Minho's thigh. You don't even realize your foot has betrayed you until he grabs your ankle. In embarrassment, you instinctively try to pull your foot back, but his firm grip gently holds you still. 

"Tickles," is all he says, eyes still glued to the TV. He pulls your foot out from beneath his leg. Mind racing, you have already planned where you are going to dig your own grave after he lets go, but he doesn't loosen his hold. Turning now to face you, he extends your leg across his lap and squeezes the arch of your foot tenderly. 

"Is this okay?" he asks, staring into your eyes as he awaits confirmation. Almost imperceptibly, you slowly nod your head a couple times before swallowing hard.

"I need you to use your words, Kitten," he whispers, stilling the motion of his hand.

"Yeah, s'alright," you manage as you avert your eyes back to the show. Even in the dim, blue light of the TV, you're sure Minho can now see the unmistakable red tinge blossoming on the tips of your ears. 

His fingers begin to move again as he massages the ball of your foot now resting on his lap. No longer able to concentrate on the show, you reflect on the domesticity of the position you now find yourself in with your best friend's brother. These thoughts only further the spreading wetness in your panties. 

You're screwed.

The episode ends rather abruptly as the main characters are finally starting to realize their feelings for each other. Arching his back and stretching his arms above his head, Minho interjects, "It's time for an action movie!"

"No! We have to see what happens next!" you yell, refusing to quit binging the new drama. Minho brings his hand to his mouth to hold a finger in front of his lips. 

"Shh, you'll wake sleeping beauty," he laughs. You make grabby hands for the remote and he shoots his arm up, holding the object of your desire just out of reach. He can't help but giggle watching you struggle to lean forward and extend your arm enough to pry the remote away, nearly clamoring into his lap.

Your movements suddenly cease and you look up at Minho through your lashes, a devilish twinkle in your eye. 

"Oh, no. That look means no good," he concedes. Before he can piece together what evil plan you have concocted, your fingers attack his exposed armpit, tickling him like your life depends upon it. 

"Gaaaah!", he cries out as he instinctively tucks his elbow to his ribs, trapping your hand in the process.  Ditching the remote over his shoulder, he leans over you to retaliate with more tickles. You squeal as you try to curl into a fetal position to protect your vital organs from the unrelenting tickle-attack.

As you attempt to roll away and admit defeat, your legs tangle in the shared quilt. Off-balance now, you fall backwards from the couch, pulling your blanket-burrito’d partner with you to the carpeted floor. You squirm on your back, Minho straddling your thighs, his hands pressing your wrists to the floor above your head. He has a wild look in his eye as he catches his breath and blows stray strands of hair off of his forehead.

Mouth agape, you notice his eyes drift from yours down to the camisole strap that has slipped off your shoulder. His gaze slowly follows your collar bone back to the taught line of your neck and up to your panting lips. 

Minho’s eyes are now blown out into black pools of lust, no doubt reflecting your own desires. You feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek as his eyes return to yours again, blinking slowly, looking for any sign of apprehension in your expression. Your glance down to his plush lips is all the sign he needs to continue his advance. As he begins lowering himself down to your waiting lips, a door creaks open at the end of the hall. 

In unison, both of your heads snap to the side and you hold your breath as you watch Jina groggily stumble to the bathroom, flip the light on, and shut the door behind her. 

Minho exhales a sigh of relief and bows his head to your shoulder for a moment. You clear your throat, bringing him back to Earth, and he releases your wrists to gingerly lift himself from you. Helping you to your feet, he can't meet your eyes as he whispers, "I, uh, should probably call it a night."

As he pads down the hallway, head lowered, you double back to the kitchen to get an icy glass of cold water. What the actual fuck was that? Did Minho really almost just kiss you? Would he have if Jina hadn't interrupted? What would have happened if Jina had caught you making out with her brother in the middle of the living room floor?!? 

You shake your head to clear your doubts before chugging the rest of the ice water in your glass. The last question would have to wait. You know you won't be able to sleep tonight without confronting Minho about the other questions racing through your mind. You steel your resolve and cross the living room. 

The bathroom door is now open, and Jina's has closed again. Knowing her, she's probably already sound asleep. You round the corner of the hall and quietly approach Minho's room. 

For a moment you debate whether you should softly knock, or just open the door to let yourself in. Not wanting to risk waking anyone else, you finally decide on the latter. Your hand reaches for the smooth brass knob, but it turns and unlatches before you even reach it. The door swings open and a stunned Minho faces you from the other side of the doorway. 

Eyes wide, he leans forward to look down the hall briefly before pulling you into his chest as he spins you through the doorway, closing the door behind him as he does. 

Your ear pressed to his chest reveals the same quickened heartbeat you have been afflicted with all day. His familiar scent washes over you, and you inhale the sweet muskiness before stepping back to stare up at him.

"Aren't you going to ask why I came to your door?" you question, finally breaking the silent tension.

"I think I know," he says, taking the smallest step towards you.

"Where were you going just now?" you muster, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I think you know," he says lowly, taking another step forward to meet you with hungry eyes. He raises one hand to caress your cheek as he lowers his other hand to your waist, pulling you in to close the gap between your bodies.

His lips finally meet yours, barely pressing together in chaste restraint. It's all you can do to refrain from devouring this man whole. Your lips part slightly and he tilts your head back to deepen the kiss. Your tongue traces his bottom lip as you shudder slightly and moan against his mouth. Something in Minho snaps and he presses you to the door as his tongue begins to explore deeper into your kiss. You slide a hand up his back. With the other you comb your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. With that, a moan escapes Minho's lips and he drops his head back into your hand, brows knit together in ecstasy. You watch his Adam's apple bob under the milky skin of his throat as he catches his breath. The throb you feel in your soaked panties causes you to clench your legs together as your own head drops back against the door.

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait," he spits out, grabbing your hands and leading you to sit on the edge of his bed.

"I need to know. Do you have feelings for me?" he asks with pleading eyes, a tinge of worry in his voice. "Because I can't do this without knowing."

"Feelings?" you scoff, incredulously. "I've liked you since we were in high school, Minho! I have a lot of feelings for you. All of them, in fact."

You smile sheepishly at your blurted confession. A wave of relief washes over his face before he pulls you into a tight hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck. 

"I've liked you for a long time, too, Kitten," Minho mumbles against your skin. "Do you want to stay here with me tonight and talk?"

"What are we going to tell Jina?" you ask, quietly fiddling with the tag in the back of his shirt as he holds you.

"We'll figure something out," he says, a soft crinkle lacing the corner of his eyes as he smiles at you tenderly, "Together."

___

The metallic click of the door latch stirs you awake. On autopilot, you roll over to try to figure out what woke you. Your stirring causes Minho's arm to tighten instinctively around your waist while he slumbers contentedly. You blush as your drowsy brain suddenly remembers where you are. Putting two and two together, you realize Minho wasn't the one leaving the room. You gasp, sitting up straight, and quickly turn to shake him awake.

"I think Jina just saw us in your room! What are we going to do, Min?!" You half whisper, half shout in his ear.

He sleepily shushes you and nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck wanting nothing more than to snuggle you back to sleep.

"I'm being serious, Minho!" you say, smacking his arm lightly. "She's going to kill us!"

You hear another noise coming from the hall. You spin around to listen and clap a hand over Minho's mouth to keep him quiet as he confusedly rubs his arm, still half asleep.

Through the silence you hear the ruffle of paper sliding under the door. Turning to Minho with panic written all over your face, he rolls his eyes at your dramatics and pulls your hand from his mouth. 

Minho rises to cross the room, and bends down to retrieve the folded sheet of paper. Standing, he opens it and scans the note quickly before a lopsided grin creeps up his right cheek. 

Returning to flop down on the bed, he hands it to you with a smug expression. 

"I see my plan finally worked.

Come to the kitchen for pancakes.

But for the love of god, please put some clothes on first."

[gnabnahcsgf]

"Sapphic Dick"

Pairing : Bada Lee x fem!reader

c/w : penetrative sex, G!P, very little amount of fluff, Bada has a very big penis (holy shit)

a/n : getting straight to the point after the cut so be ready ehe ��

sypnosis : You and G!P Bada fuck until you both cum :3

"I adore your tits. They haunt my thoughts when my eyes are shut." Bada murmured against your lips, her voice filled with a raw and almost desperate craving, "And your cunt too; your exquisite, drenched and rosy cunt. My heavenly delight made flesh." Bada breathed. "Did you–" "Keep going." Bada whines, chest heaving and fingers clenching at the sheets. "Keep going please, I wanna feel it." You wrap your legs around Bada's hips, linking her ankles and trying to bring her body closer. "Bada.. Bada please. Please, I need you inside."

The desperation drips from your voice, words wet as you considered begging. You started pleading to Bada that she continue to fuck you despite your unexpected orgasm. "Say my name again, god, please say it." Bada remained unmoved. Just the tip of her penis keeping you open, eyes dark and intense. "Y/N." You visibly shivered when Bada said your name. Bada hunches over, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. "I love you, Y/N." The first thrust is tentative, just a small rocking of her hips. You choked on the feeling, at the painful pleasure of overstimulation, back arching as she tries to take you in deeper.

Your eyes shine with unshed tears as Bada slowly returns to her previous pave, the quick snap of her hips pushing the air out of your lungs in small bursts. "Fuck, it's like you're made for me baby. Taking my cock so well." You would preen at the praise if she was capable of coherent thought, instead, she just whimpers pathetically as you ram into her prostate again and again. "Do you think you can get hard for me sweetheart? Can you come one more time for me?" You immediately shake you head no, your hands came up to cling onto Bada's shoulders.

Your nails leave angry red welts on her skin as you hold on, her penis somehow twitching in interest with the continuous stimulation to her prostate. Everything hurts so good, you feel almost insane with it. "You can do it babygirl, you can be a good girl for me." You scratch at Bada's back harshly, a silent retaliation for Bada's teasing, for creating an ache inside you that want to be good, so much. You can't do anything, but just take it as Bada wrecks you so thoroughly, swooping down to suck a mark onto the scar on your chin.

Moaning out praises as you lay pliant on top of her, face flushed prettily and legs spread. "Hhhnng.." Bada throws her head back when you grab hold of her length, sensitive to your touch. Bada's penis slowly grows full and hard again as you match the pump of her length with her relentless thrusts. "Y/N, I can't, I can't–" you cut off her words with a bruising kiss, licks into Bada's mouth when it obediently drops open, teeth clacking with the lack of coordination. Every is hot, so hot that you feel like you're burning from the inside. Bada is scorching inside you, below you. Her tongue inside your mouth and her long arms wrapped around you.

And somehow she wants more. She wants to dive into it, wants all the heat that you'll give. She wants to be burned alive in the blazing sun of your desire, love and possession. "You're doing so well for me baby, already hard for me again. Come one more time for me love, one more time for me."

Bada gasps as you thumb the head of her penis, finger digging into the slit in that same pleasure-pain. Bada thrusts so hard that you're jolted up in the bed, in danger of banging against the headboard. But it's just a few more thrusts until you're somehow coming for a second time. Your refractory period almost nonexistent as her penis weakly kicks out a few more pitiful strings of cum. The second orgasm had you clenching unconsciously around Bada. You buried you're face into the crook of Bada's neck.

You whimpered as Bada's pumps you full of cum, grinding into you as her own orgasm rattles through her. Bada collapses on top of you, arms giving out as her weight settles over you. Bada lavishes your skin with kisses, kissing gently at the bite on your neck. "I love you," Bada whispers into your skin. "Bada, you're perfect." Bada kisses you on the lips, a little wet as her tongue tangles with yours before she rearranges your legs to make them both comfortable. Bada is heavy inside you, hissing when you twitch and clamp down on her softening penis.

You both lay in silence for a few minutes. You felt safe under Bada's firm weight. You wished that the ecstasy could last forever. That the bliss of you and Bada's time together could blot out of the horror of the afternoon.

[xsezzie]

WAHHHH REQUESTS R OPENNN

MAY I REQUEST FOR LEE WELT AND LER TRAILBLAZING TRIO PLS (or anyone u want i’m just happy with lee welt :D)

THANK U 🫶🫶

What does this grandpa have to do to get a rest 😂❤️

There was a shuffling around the corner, a small "Shh!" and a giggle. Welt knew exactly who they were, but decided to humour them, curious as to what they were up to. A gentle smile adorned the mans face as he heard more stifled giggles, followed by a familiar sigh from the third person who must have been dragged into this. It didn't take long for them to finally pounce, literally. As Welt turned the page of the book he was reading, he was suddenly tackled onto the floor with a soft thud. "Urgh! Come on, I am quite old you know?" The tackler was Caelus, followed by March and Dan Heng hanging behind him. Although this tackler soon turned into a tickler, wiggling his fingers along Welt's sides. "Gahahaha! H-Hey! What are you doing!?" "Mr Yang is ticklish! I was right! Dan Heng owes me snacks!" March cheered as she joined in, kneeling next to them and going for the armpits. "Ahahahaha!! MARCH! STOP THAT!" "I am sorry Mr Yang... I tried to talk them out of it..." Dan Heng's words betrayed his actions, he approached with slight trepidation but also knelt on the floor and joined Caelus in tickling his sides. "AHAHAHAHA WHYHYHYY!" The older man was wheezing at this point, having to take his glasses off because they were fogging up from the tears of laughter. "What are you lot doing?" The familiar and mature voice of Himeko startled the three younger ones, causing them to cease their attack, the only sounds left being Welt's residual giggles. "Umm it was Dan Heng's idea!" Caelus pointed at the Vidyadhara and made a run for it. "No! No, it was him and March!" A flustered Dan Heng ran after both of them who had already taken off. Himeko chuckled, looking down at Welt. "Still ticklish, huh?" She smirked. "Don't even think about it..."

[ghastigiggles]

hihihiii

can i request for ler!welt and maybe a lee!trailblazer? (not romantic)

the prompt is "Here comes the tickle~ monster~"

(we dont get enough of ler grandpappy)

thank u :D

Mischievious Prompts [Still Open]

“Mr. Yang! When did you get back?”

Welt looked up from his book as March and Stelle re-entered the passenger cabin, smiling softly as he slid a bookmark in-between the pages and shut it to set aside for the time being.

“Awhile ago. It sounded like you two were having fun, so I didn’t want to interrupt.”

March flushed, and Stelle chuckled, plopping down on the seat next to him with a nod. The pink girl huffed, but breezed over the comment with a tilt of her head.

“Did Dan Heng come back with you?”

“No,” Welt answered, shaking his head; “He and Himeko are still out taking care of something. I was assured that they’ll be back soon enough.” 

“Aw, man…”

Pouting, March plopped down on Stelle’s opposite side, resting her chin on the Trailblazer’s shoulder. Welt tilted his head at her despondency, even as Stelle gladly leaned back into the touch with a content smile.

“Is something wrong…?”

“Well – it’s just that Dan Heng was going to bring something for me, and I was hoping he’d be back by now. It would’ve been the perfect timing.”

“Yeah,” The gray-haired traveler snorted with amusement; “You don’t have to be subtle about it, March, I know you asked him for help getting revenge. You dropped it in the group chat by accident.”

“Hmph! Well – saying things like that just digs a deeper hole for you!”

Pouting more aggressively, March hugged one of Stelle’s arms while her companion snickered, turning her gaze upon Welt – though her annoyance quickly turned to a glimmer of mischief when their eyes met, and the older man sighed, already knowing where this was going.

“Mr. Yang can help me instead! Right? You used to do it all the time when it was just me and Dan Heng!”

Stelle snorted; “Mr. Yang would never, he loves me too much! Right?”

Welt chuckled softly, lowering his head just a tad so the reflection of his glasses hid his eyes. March grinned, and Stelle tensed, her own smile growing a tad more unsteady and nervous as she realized the threat was actually tangible. The kids never really change, do they?

“Normally, I’d let you sort out your grievances on your own, but…”

“Hah! Let’s go!” March jeered, quickly shifting to wrap her arms around Stelle’s chest to keep her from running, and Stelle yelped, her voice already tremoring with anticipatory giggles as Welt scooted closer.

“Wahait – wait, Mr. Yang…!”

“Here comes the real tickle monster!”

Stelle was a hiccuping mess in seconds, but like her friend, she could hardly complain.