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yandere-daydreams · 3 days ago

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Title: The Fawn Instinct.

Pairing: Yandere!BatFam x Reader (DC).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: Implied Non/Con, Implied Dub/Con, Kidnapping, Prolonged Captivity, Social Isolation, Stalking, Obsessive Behavior, and No Actual Incest, But Boy If Those Freaks Aren't Trying. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

If it’d only been Bruce, you might’ve been able to live with it.

You didn’t love him, but you could imagine a world where you tried to. Most of it was circumstance; as upset as you were about the whole kidnapping thing, it wasn’t exactly a Herculean feat to endear yourself to the idea of being a handsome vigilante millionaire’s stay-at-home captive-spouse. You had no room in your heart for the stoic, reclusive, untouchable Bruce Wayne, but you could remember the adoration you’d once held for your masked hometown hero, the pride that’d once given you the force of will to all-but carry a half-conscious man in a torn cowl and a familiar suit into your apartment and lie to the cops when they came knocking. If the conditions had been different, if he’d spent a little more time as something more intimate than a stranger and a little less damning than a captor, then maybe, you could convince yourself to love him. Or, convince yourself to try, at least.

But, the conditions weren’t different, and you’d never quite had the time you would’ve needed to align Bruce Wayne with his more heroic alter ego. It’d been doomed from the start – Icarus jumping from his tower, already knowing his wings were destined to fall apart.

That aside, though, there was the more glaring issue: all his fucking kids.

Calling them kids might’ve been too generous, actually. Only Damian and Duke were younger than eighteen, and as far as you were concerned, they were your saving graces – Duke for meeting the bare minimum requirements for human decency and Damian for adamantly denying you were anything but an unwanted burden on his father. The rest were more-or-less adults, as little as you wanted to acknowledge the nonexistent age-gap between you and your gaggle of stepchildren. They were grown. They should’ve known better.

Tim, for example. He had to be… what? Nineteen? It wasn’t the pinnacle of maturity, sure, but he should’ve known you’d be able to hear your own sheets rustling through the bedroom door, should’ve assumed that you’d know he’d know Bruce would be out on patrol until sunrise. He should’ve known to wait until you were in another wing of the sprawling Wayne estate, somewhere far away from the master bedroom, or better yet, skipped rummaging through your things entirely. You knew better than to dream, though.

The door was still shut, but what was happening behind it and who was responsible were both foregone conclusions. It was Tim, because of course it was Tim, and he going through your meager possessions, because what else would he wait until Bruce was gone to do? Cringing, you rested your shoulder against the steady wood and knocked gingerly. “…Drake? Are you in there?”

Immediately, the rustling stopped. You went on. “I think Bruce is out, if you need him. Is there something you’re trying to find?”

It was a good out. An easy out. Thankfully, he was smart enough to take the bait. A few seconds later, the door cracked, a disheveled Tim emerging with a dark blush spread over his pale cheeks and his hands shoved conspicuously deep into the pockets of his hoodie. It was a struggle not to roll your eyes. He couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d come out with his dick still in his hand.

Your cheeks ached as you put on your dozenth unstrained, unworried, everything’s-fine-because-why-wouldn’t-it-be smile of the day and moved aside to let him out. “I’ll let him know you were looking for him when he gets home,” you assured, like you couldn’t see the way his bright eyes were fixed to the carpeting. “I’m sorry I can’t be more help. You all are just so heroic – it’s still a little hard to believe I’m a part of this at all.”

“You’re perfect,” he muttered, and you pretended not to hear him, cocking your head to the side. When he corrected himself, his voice was a bit louder, a bit clearer. “Don’t worry, I… I found what I was looking for. You don’t have to bother Bruce.”

“Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. He’s so proud of you and your siblings, after all – it’s practically all he talks about.” A lie, but a fair one to tell. There was no reason Tim should have to know Bruce spent the majority of your time alone with his teeth buried somewhere in your neck, muttering paranoid fantasies about how many different ways you could be killed, mutilated, or otherwise indisposed by the members of his rouges gallery. “Honestly, sometimes, it’s hard not to feel like I’ve been here for years, rather than just a couple of months.”

You only realized your mistake when those bright eyes shot to you, suddenly wide and blown out with desperation. A hand darted towards you, and you stumbled out of the way, but not quickly enough to avoid Tim’s vice-grip on your forearm, to spare yourself the feeling of something cold and wet sinking into your sleeve. “You’re leaving?” The words seemed to slur together, spilling out too quickly to be restrained or refined. “You can’t leave. Bruce won’t be able to handle it, and Steph, she’ll—I mean, security-wise, we won’t be able to make sure you’re—”

Internally, you were keeping up a steady mantra of ‘Thisissogrossthisissogrossthisissogross.’

Externally, by some miracle, your smile never wavered, only growing sweeter as you cut him off with a chirping laugh. “I’m not going anywhere,” you promised, and then, after a slight lapse, “Would you mind letting go of me? It’s—uh, it’s kind of starting to hurt.”

As if on a switch, he let go of you entirely, pulling away as abruptly as he lashed out. There was a mumbled ‘I’m sorry’, and he made a swift retreat, disappearing around the next corner before you could so much as think about bringing up Bruce, again. You watched him go, only letting your expression fall once you were sure he was out of sight.

Without further caution, you slipped into your bedroom, glazing over the mess of pulled-out drawers, overturned clothes and scattered dirty laundry in favor of falling into bed, rolling onto your chest, and screaming into your pillow as loudly and for as long as your lungs would allow.

You tried your best never to be alone. It was a little draining, to be honest – having to keep a running chart in the back of your mind of who you could trust and who you couldn’t, constantly trying to guess whether it’d be safer to be alone with someone or if you were better off taking your chances on your own – but you’d learned your lesson the first time you’d fallen asleep in the Wayne’s at-home movie theater and woken up to Cassandra spread over you like a human weighted blanket, staring unblinkingly at your face and playing half-consciously with your hair. You tried not to leave yourself unguarded, after that.

Alfred was your first choice, Barbra your second, with Bruce as a distant third. Sometimes, you could get away with loitering near Damian (something you hated nearly as much as he did – you could only stand to be addressed as his father’s “jezebel lover” so many times), but Bruce was at one of Damian’s school events, leaving them both conveniently unavailable, and Alfred would be locked inside of his underground shooting range for another hour and a half, an activity you knew better than to interrupt. Meaning, you were on your own.

Meaning, you’d picked a very bad time to need something to drink.

The kitchen was deathly quiet, but you still made an effort to keep your head on a swivel as you made your way carefully to a corner cabinet, like stepping on the wrong tile would trigger a pit trap, or a flurry of arrows, or one of another million terrible things you hadn’t thought were possible before Bruce dedicated himself so entirely to proving you wrong. Mentally, you reviewed your haphazardly assembled schedule as you fumbled with the wood paneling and reached for a mug from the highest shelf. Tim was definitely out, touring local colleges on Bruce’s behest, Step was supposed to be in class, and Dick—

Your fingertips made contact with cool ceramic half a second before another, larger palm wrapped around yours, a broad chest pressing into your back as your mug was stolen out of your hand. You didn’t have to look to know who it was.

And Dick was on bed rest with three broken ribs. Right. Of course.

You really shouldn’t have bothered leaving your room at all. Suddenly, dehydration didn’t sound like such a bad way to go.

“Let me get that, baby bird.” You cringed at the petname, but nodded, letting Dick confiscate your mug and with it, your ability to make a swift exit from a conversation you’d rather not have. “Green tea, right? I know it’s your favorite.”

“On the mark as always, Dick.” There was just enough enthusiasm in your voice to overshadow the despair. You waited until you heard the muted click of an electric kettle before turning around and settling against the counter. “I wish you wouldn’t dote on me, though. I already feel useless enough as it is.”

“Don’t sweat it, I’ve been going stir-crazy all week.” He flashed you a quick smile – tooth and beaming – before pulling open the silverware drawer and rummaging through it, like Alfred would keep his teabags with his cutlery. He was topless, wearing the same pair of black sweatpants he must’ve slept in. He didn’t plan to go out, clearly, and it wasn’t like you had much of an alternative. “This is just the basics, too. For a while there, I had your breakfast, lunch, and midnight snack preferences memorized.”

You forced yourself to smile, albeit, not as brightly as him. “…did you, now?”

“Mhm. B had us running in-person surveillance before he finally bit the bullet and brought you home, and—” He cut himself off with a sudden laugh, shaking his head. “And, I wasn’t supposed to tell you that part. Oops.”

Mercifully, the kettle whistled before you could start to consider the implications, and you reached behind you, fishing two bags out of a teacup-shaped jar. It was easy enough to edge him out of the way, but not having to worry about pretending he’d ever made himself a cup of tea meant he could devote more of his energy to talking, so you still managed to lose, in the end. “He’s stingier with the surveillance footage, now. I’ve never seen him so jealous.”

“He can definitely be a little overprotective.”

You tried to keep your tone even, polite, but Dick was like his siblings – quick to action and slow to take a hint. A hand curled around the counter next to you, and you dumped an extra spoonful of sugar into the darkening water. “It’s just us in the manor, right?”

Another spoonful, just to be safe. “I think Alfred is—”

“Out for the day. Wayne Enterprise emergency – I let him know as soon as he finished down in the range.” In your peripheral, you watched his other hand come to rest on your opposite side, caging you in. “I wouldn’t mind the company, if you were starting to get lonely.”

Another spoonful. It’d be too sweet to drink, but anything not to have to look at him. “I’m afraid wouldn’t be a lot of fun, Grayson. Honestly, I was just planning on getting a little sle—”

“That’s perfect,” he cut in, too eager to wait his turn. “I’m a great cuddler.”

You curled your hand around your mug, hoping the warmth would be enough to ground you. Instead, it only burnt your palm, and for a second, you could imagine a world where your teeth weren’t buried in the plush of your cheek, where you didn’t have to remind yourself that turning around and splashing boiling-hot water on an all-but superhero’s face wasn’t a good idea. For a second, you genuinely considered it.

And then, a sound not totally dissimilar to thunder filled the kitchen; loud enough to leave your ears ringing and your adrenaline spiked. You flinched into yourself, but it only took a moment for fear to shift to relief as you noticed the bullet lodged into the wood less than an inch from your head. Your expression lit up just as Dick’s fell.

Without waiting for him to let you go, you slipped away – sprinting across the kitchen and throwing yourself into Jason’s – brave, bold, beautiful Jason – chest. He caught you one hand and finished re-holstering his handgun with the other, laughing as you hugged him as tightly as you could manage. Dick huffed, playful offense failing to mask real agitation, and you felt Jason brace against you. “Jerk off and shut the fuck up, Oedipus.”

Dick’s smile turned uneasy. “It’s good to see you too, man.”

“I didn’t come here for you,” he snapped, as short-tempered with his siblings as you wished you could be. He looked down, holding you that much tighter. “How’s my best girl holding up?”

“I’m just fine, Jason. I do think we have to have a talk about how you treat your brother, though.” You glanced over your shoulder to Dick. “A little privacy? You really ought to be staying off your feet, too.”

Reluctantly, Dick slinked out of the kitchen, hesitant to go but eager to nurse his wounds. You only went on once you were sure he was gone.

“It’s been awful. I found another hidden camera in my bedroom, and I think Tim’s tapping my—”

“I’ll do a sweep.”

He let you go, but you caught his arm. “Please, I know it’s important, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing. It was irrational – the way you let your guard down so quickly around Jason. The mask never slipped around anyone else, whether you were afraid of them or they were one of your rare, precious exceptions. Jason existed outside of the Wayne family, though, outside of Bruce’s corrupting influence. He wasn’t going to hurt you. More importantly, he wasn’t going to let anyone else hurt you, either.

“But I really don’t want to think about that, right now,” you finished. “Just… just for a little while, alright? I don’t want to constantly feel like I’m walking on eggshells, at least not while you’re here.”

Jason stood strong for all of three seconds. With the fourth, he sighed, buckled, and shook his head, his exasperation brimming with affection. “How long until Bruce gets home?”

“Six more hours. He’s not due to check-in for another three.”

“I’ve got my bike out front. How do you think he’d feel about a joy ride?”

And just like that, you lit up. “It’d give him a heart attack.”

Jason pulled you close, kissing the top of your head.

“Perfect.”

Unfortunately, Jason’s visits were few and far between. You had to find ways of fending for yourself, in the downtime.

“I miss the city.”

Bruce glanced over his shoulder, gaze flickering over you before returning to the buttons of his dress-shirt. You sunk that much deeper into the mess of sheets and pillows, taking some small amount of solace in the way the cool silk felt against your warm skin.

(Sex wasn’t something Bruce came to you for often, but when he did, you gave it to him willingly, albeit with no more enthusiasm than was absolutely necessary. You rarely enjoyed it and always regretted everything you did or said during the act, but it was better than the alternative. Part of you trusted him, trusted Batman, enough to believe that he’d take your refusal for what it was, that you wouldn’t have to say anything more than ‘no’. The remaining overwhelming majority was able to look around you, to remember the way he’d held you down as he forced a needle stocked with medical-grade sedatives into your throat, and recognize that your opinion probably didn’t mean very much to him. Still, you couldn’t let things get that bad. Even if you had to surrender every other facet of your being, you couldn’t let things get that bad.)

“You hated the city. You said your landlord was a tyrant and that even the criminals were living paycheck-to-paycheck.” And then, after a second of thought, “And that there were more rats in Gotham than people.”

“Well, he was, they are, and you know I love animals.” You pushed yourself up, keeping a sheet bunched against your chest as you slumped against the headboard. “I was tired and overworked – you could see that. But, things would be different if I was staying with, say, my wealthy trillionaire boyfriend in one of the penthouse apartments that I know he has because his youngest son got in trouble for bragging about them in school last week?”

Bringing up his kids was a dirty tactic – the fastest way to get Bruce’s undivided attention. This time, when his eyes shifted in your direction, they stayed there, and he made his way back to your side of the bed. He collapsed next to you and, with no resistance on your end, pulled you into his lap. He didn’t seem to care whether or not his immaculately tailored, freshly pressed suit was creased in the process, but you did your best not to squirm. “You want to leave the manor?”

The first half of a frown tugged at the corner of your lips. “That’s not what I—”

“Elevated pulse, avoidant eye-contact,” he muttered. “Something’s bothering you.”

It wasn’t a question. He wasn’t wrong, either, but still. You would’ve preferred to be asked.

“…it’s your family,” you admitted, feigning guilt. “They’re all—” Horny, depressed, creepy little orphans. “—great kids, but it’s just been so much so quickly, and I think it… I think it might’ve been too much too quickly. For them and for me.”

“They adore you, if that’s what you’re worried about. Dick was close to moving back in when I decided it was too dangerous to leave you to your own devices.”

You melted into his chest, sighing. Reflexively, he curled around you – a good thing, if a bit claustrophobic. Bruce liked feeling like a shield between you and harm, between you and the world he couldn’t control. Hopefully, eventually, he’d realize he had more to shield you from than greedy landlords and villains who always seemed to be just out of sight. “It’s not that easy. It’s just been such a rocky adjustment period, and…” You curled your hand around his wrist and squeezed, hoping the force would be enough to communicate what you couldn’t put a word to. “I’m really afraid something bad might happen, Bruce.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider it. There was a kiss to your shoulder, solemn and lingering, then another to your cheek, more fleeting. “I’ll talk to them. They’ll give you space, if they’re told to.”

If he told them to. You doubted you held much authority, here. “And the apartment in the city? On the highest floor, tall enough to see from Gotham to New York?”

Bruce smiled, and your heart soared.

Then, he started talking, and it crashed back down, dying upon impact. “Once I know it’s safe for you, sweetheart.”

There was another kiss, this one to the nape of your neck, then another, lower down on your spine. A calloused hand slipped underneath the sheet still hugged against your chest, and you allowed it to.

Honestly, it would’ve been kinder if he’d cut you into pieces and fed you to the wolves himself.

You made a run for it as soon as the arguing started.

Arguing, not yelling – the distinction was minor, but significant. Yelling would’ve meant an injury, or a mission gone wrong, or something else that signaled a sudden complication that couldn’t be smoothed over with sugar-sweet sentimentality or orders issues with an ice-cold strictness. Yelling would’ve meant Bruce didn’t mind letting you overhear, which usually meant you didn’t need to be involved. Arguing, all hushed whispers and hissed explanations and vague warnings, was different. Arguing meant, more often than not, that they were arguing about you.

It was Tim’s fault, as far as you could tell. Barbara had been the one to find the conspicuously encrypted file on one of Dick’s civilian devices, the one to mention it to Stephanie as a point of concern who went to Tim within the hour, but it was still his fault. He’d gotten Bruce involved, let his need for approval tip the tenuously balanced scales that kept his family whole and you safe. He’d talked them all into waiting until Dick was close enough to confront in-person, stopping by for his weekly equipment pick-up and check-in. He was the reason you’d gotten close enough to hear something about ‘pictures’ and ‘inappropriate use of reconnaissance material’ before fleeing to the mansion’s foyer – the only part of the house you could be sure wasn’t occupied. If you were lucky, you’d only be there for half an hour or so, enough time for them to compromise on some non-solution and return to your carefully maintained status quo. If you weren’t, you’d spend the early hours of the morning—

Something small but forceful hit the nearest window, shortly followed by another projectile, then another. The glass was too thick and the world outside too dark to make anything out, but you didn’t need to see anything to know who’d come to your rescue.

Jason.

You rushed to the door, then hesitated. Jason would only get a slap on the wrist for luring you out of the estate, and Bruce could never bring himself to be that strict with you, but now might’ve been a bad time. Tensions were already running high. Your little disappearing act wouldn’t—

A sudden rush of footsteps clattering through the ceiling from the floor above you, hushed voices raised just to the point of audibility. None of it was entirely coherent, but Dick’s came the closest. You managed to make out a half-choked “If you’d just let me—” before someone cut him off.

With your better judgement reduced to buzzing static, you pried open the closer of a pair of huge, mahogany doors and slipped out of the estate entirely.

Of course, Jason was waiting outside, a small stock of pebbles still in his left hand and, of course, you threw yourself at him, letting him catch and spin you twice before setting you back onto your feet with an airy laugh. A pitch-black sports car was waiting at the end of the driveway, the engine purring loudly enough to drown the rest of the world out. “Rough night?”

“You have no fucking idea,” you muttered, breathless. “I don’t care where we go, just get me out of here.”

There was a reason Jason was your favorite. There was no argument, no prying, just his arm around your waist as he herded you into the passenger seat. Fifteen minutes and a little over fifty miles later, the mansion was little more than a dull glow on the horizon, and you could pretend you’d stopped thinking about Bruce entirely.

There was no effort to make conversation, as bad as you felt about pulling Jason into your prolonged tryst with self-pity. Instead, you sunk into the leather of his seat and fixed your gaze on the passing landscape, clinging to any detail you were able to latch onto as it flew by. It was possible, between the subways and boarded-over windows and perpetually overcast skies, to go days without seeing the sun in Gotham. Still, your life had felt brighter there than it ever did in Bruce’s estate.

Jason turned down a road you didn’t recognize, and you managed to find your voice. “Are we going into the city?”

“Even better.” He flashed you a smile, the engine purring as he accelerated. “You’ll like it, I promise. Just sit tight.”

As if you had much of a choice.

Road gave way to forest, forest to empty plains, and empty plains to the dilapidated remains of what you could only label as a long-abandoned amusement park – like Disney World if there’d been some terrible, possibly nuclear accident followed by twenty or so years of absolute neglect. Jason’s car glided past the rusted remains of an iron gate, past the corpses of rides buckled under their own weight, and came to a stop in front of a paint-stripped merry-go-round almost entirely sheeted be vines and weeds and overgrowth. You let out a low whistle as he threw the gear shift into park and, for the first time in any vehicle you’d ever shared with him, pulled his keys out of the ignition. He’d always left the engine running while visiting the mansion, but then again, you’d always been pretty eager to make a hasty escape, too.

“I love it, Jason. I’ve always wanted to get tetanus from a broken down carnival.”

“A fair, actually,” he corrected, slipping his keys into his jacket pocket. Like he expected you to try and steal them while his back was turned, or something. “My parents used to take me here, before I met B. There weren’t a lot of Ferris wheels after that.”

There was a short lapse, the sound of lips moving against teeth. You made the mistake of humming, of glancing over to him, of leaving yourself open for another question, and Jason, as nice as he was, was more than happy to take advantage of you. “So, when did you and B start…”

He trailed off, drumming his fingers against the wheel. You filled in the rest with a breathy chuckle. “When did I start sleeping with your dad?”

He jabbed an elbow into your side. “First of all, you can admit you’re fucking him or call him my dad, but you’ve gotta pick one.” You opened your mouth, already ready to spit out some dumb joke about what Bruce would’ve preferred to be called, but Jason cut in, sniping your stupid joke out of the air. “Secondly, answer the question. I get enough of your diversions back at home.”

“Being a buzzkill must run in family,” you sighed, but gave in quickly enough. “It happened once before the whole kidnapping thing, when he was staying at my apartment and sleeping off a broken leg. I hadn’t even seen him without his mask on at that point, but I figured it was a sign – destiny, or something.” You did your best to smile, slumping against the door. “It was dumb. He gave me a couple weeks after bringing me to the estate, mostly because of the crying and stuff, but things started up again pretty quickly.”

“Do you… like it?”

“Do you like asking about your dad’s sex life?” He flinched back, and laughing, you went on. “I guess I don’t care. There’s not a lot else to do.” You swallowed. “Would it matter if I didn’t?”

For someone with so many questions, he didn’t leave a lot of time for yours, the hypocrite. Moving on swiftly, he asked, “And the others, have they…?”

“No.” And then, after a beat, “Not yet.”

He seemed to relax, at that. His back was still straight, his shoulders still squared, but his grip on the wheel loosened, his jaw unclenching ever so slightly. You tried the handle – locked. Obviously. As if you’d ever get that lucky.

His voice was soft, sweet. The kind of tone you’d use on a child, or an animal, or a doll. “This would probably be easier in the backseat, right?”

“Let me out.”

“So you can go where,baby? It’s just us out here.” He laughed, resting a hand on your thigh. You slammed your shoulder into the door. It didn’t budge. “Hey, hey, this doesn’t need to get rough. I’m not going to be like Dick. The others – they’ll do it wrong, treat you like a cut of meat they have to get to before anybody else. I just need to make sure you get out of this in one piece.”

Nails embedded in leather, body crammed as far from him as you could force it be. You weren’t hyperventilating, but only because you’d stopped breathing entirely. “Let me out, Jason.”

“I love the way you say my name. It’s pretty, and delicate – just like you.” He sighed, shook his head. “I know you don’t get it, but I’m just trying to take care of you, like you’ve been taking care of me for the past few—”

“Stop acting like I’m your mom.” A sob fractured the final syllable, another bubbling up from deep in your chest a moment later. Your body was beyond the point of rationality, but the soft, preservational part of your mind wasn’t so beyond the point of seeking refuge. There was a way out of this, as ghoulish as it seemed. You couldn’t stop it from happening, but you could make it better. You’d regret it in an hour, when it came time to explain yourself to Bruce, but what happened in an hour didn’t matter, not if you couldn’t survive the next few minutes.

You might’ve done it, too – or, you might’ve tried, at least. You wanted to. You planned to. And yet, when you opened your mouth, there was only one thing you could seem to say. “I don’t want to do this, Jason.”

His nails bit into your thigh, his smile easing at the corners. For a second, you almost thought he’d pull away. For a second, you almost thought he’d sigh, straighten back up, and admit this was all part of some cruel, unfunny joke that the two of you would remember fondly, later on.

Then, he laughed and leaned forward, lips brushing against the top of your head. You felt him speak before you heard his voice, but the cloying reverberation alone was enough to tell you that you would’ve been better off never saying anything at all.

“Welcome to the family, sweetheart.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere batman #yandere dc #dc x reader #batman x reader #batfam x reader #yandere batfam #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere tim drake #yandere jason todd

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screampied · 12 hours ago

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#BONGOS!

☆ sum. pov: when his backshots are just so good, they sound like bongooos! toji, choso, geto, sukuna, ino, nanami, gojo.

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, dick drunk! reader, LETHAL BACKSHOTSSS, dom! choso sorta, ass obsessed men, size kink, brief cunnīlingus, doggystyle, prone boneee, hair pulling (nanami), slight dacryphīlia, runnin from it, pússy so good tears uppp (ino), spanks, dirty talk, sqúirting, bręeding, bed breaking, manhandling, cęrvix fucking.

an. HAPPY SQUIRTMAS *wet jingle noises*

CHOSO ★ KAMO.

“mhm- ah ah, get back here,” choso sharply prowls, each smoky pant turning raspier within the pitch.

choso was two words - feral and ruthless, and here he was having you all pretty and bent over on all fours..

his dark-rimmed eyes wandered everywhere at your body displayed underneath him. choso’s pointed ears couldn’t help but instinctively twitch upon hearing each sobbing mewl draaag its way out of your esophagus. it’s nothing but cute elongated syllables that made little to no sense, and each electrifying paps of fleshy stinging mounds clasping together has your head spinning in circles.

“ ‘m tired…of you, hah- always teasin’ me so much, baby. think you need a reminder of who’s in charge, huuuh?”

“c- chos—oooh!” your words get crudely cut off at the sloppy curve of his cock massaging through each part of your cunt.

like a maze - the upper part of his puffed tip clumsily gets lost, leisurely finding its way through before wetly marking every tender spot of your pussy with his curious tip. he’s beating up all spots, slowing his jagged hitting hips down purposely before picking his pace right back up. “mm- right f- fuckin’ thereee, fuck me then.”

with a sassy eye roll, choso deepens his angle, reaching an arm out to hold onto the grunting, wooden headboard. it’s undeniably loud, creaking non-stop each time both jolting bodies ounce against the bed frame.

“plan… on it,” and you whine, glossed lips breaking apart before your mouth spreads agape. he’s just so thick, and he loves more than anything to treat your pussy like it was just elastic. that effortless stretch- choso groans every time he feels you closing around him, cutely trying to squeeze around him before wheezing out those cute ‘oooh!’ ’s of whimpers.

“hah- gotta teach her some manners. can’t have you thinkin’ you can just walk all over me, princess—oh, fuuuck.”

every nth of choso’s staggering fat inches drills into you deeply, causing your eyes to goofily cross. he’s in you sooo good, using two grabby hands to raise your clumsy hips upright. “ugh- choso, mhm!” and your cunt’s just profusely dripping all around him, eagerly squelching at each springy thrust. he’s hard, maintaining a good alignment before his hips shimmy. his pace was literally inhuman. choso treats your convulsing nub like a target—repeatedly, striking your g-spot with precise hits as if it’s the perfect bullseye.

as you both each share laborious, breathy pants, he snatches your hips right back against his chiseled pelvis with an impish disapproving pout. “what did i say…no mngh- runnin’, pretty,” and you moan, feeling choso’s hand makes you dip all the way forward into his bare chest.

now, your back was just arched fully over with your ass perked up in the air. choso admires your slobbering pussy before leaning in, taking a moment to spit down between the exposed valley of your ass.

“f- fuuck, you’re so nasty, ‘cho,” you’d whine, holding back a bratty smile once your hand grips a jiggling fat of your rotating ass. through bleary peripherals and droopy hanging eyelids, choso’s swiping a thumb over his lips, another smearing his treacly saliva around your stuffed entrance to make sure you stay nice and wet for him.

it’s incredibly slimy, and his digit continues to sloppily trail further down the teary slot of cunt. it’s so raunchy, and choso licks his thin-pursed lips as if he’s preparing to feast….and right then, that’s when choso brings his freshly slick-coated fingers toward his rosy achy lips.

“she’s.. nastier,” choso grunts with his blushful broad tip aching from every ridged corner. your cunt wetly pops out an excited shriek of its own and your entire body starts to relax. he’s hissing through his teeth, fanning himself once he feels the cruel stiffening of his cock pound pound pound into your very core. “lemme hear her some more, princess. ‘s not enough hah- wet talk.”

and as choso’s rude hips continue to buck buck buck, he’s using every raging part of his hips to drill into you raw.

each twist, each turn—he’s deep, making sure your cunt remembers every narrow hit of his dick. a mixture of your sweetened moans and his feral grunts fill the air before he feels that cute clamping stick of your ass. “ ‘m gonna cum, ‘m cummin!” you’d gasp, poor knobbly thighs just slapping against each other. choso’s hips had the inside of your mouth watering, and you only wanted more. “fuck me- fuck me, f- ugh!”

your body inaudible screams with tremors and tremors of crazed shakes. once your lonely awaited finish comes, your mouth drops open but not a sound comes out. instead, a cute tiny squeak follows out of your husky larynx with your eyes carelessly rolllllling way back into the very back of your brain.

you’re seeing nothing but black as you’re riding out your orgasm, creaming down on choso’s cock with not a single thought in mind. “mhm- that’s it, ride it out baby, ride it out,” choso slows his hips to your defeated rhythm, feeling your body underneath him convulse rapidly. you saw stars, galaxies of them in fact, maybe even a few comets.

“c- choso,” you’d moan, hearing pitchy rough breaths from behind you. the wiiiiide stretch of his dick still makes itself known and you’re humming, batting your dampened lashes sporadically at the sudden overwhelming wave of elation. “fuuuckk- more,” and he ogles as you make him pull out, cutely flipping yourself over with a flushed look of sensual desire.

despite how you were just drenched in your sweat, you still craved more. choso stares at you sprawling your legs out fully, bringing two dry padded fingers towards your sensitive clit before pinching it. “l.. let’s try mating press, baby.”

“you’re impossible,” he sheepishly says, with a wry head shake, gingerly placing his weight on top of you. his onyx-colored ponytails were all scruffy, and he was sweating from all corners of his forehead. with a loud, wet ‘plap!’ noise, choso sloppily re-aligns his tip before it sloooowly starts to sink its way inside of your wet pussy, reuniting.

“hah- fine, but ‘m gonna have to…stretch you a bit, baby,” and you moan, feeling choso raise your leg, nearly hooking it over your head before positioning the other limb to mimic the same. sealing your trembling lips with an open-mouthed kiss, he grunts against your twisting tongue as he’s hungrily bottoming out inside of you.

“gotta get my baby all stretched,” he slips out a throaty whimper, hardened cock barreling further inside of you before he surprises random sticky kisses on your raised ankle.

“but, l- let’s…test out that flexibility while we’re at it, hm?”

SUGURU ★ GETO.

geto and backshots are a deadly combo within itself.

“take it. take it, taaake it,” he growls, his carnally encouraging words sounding more like a looping chant by the second. you’re moaning with his palm slapped against your mouth, shamefully drooling all over his hand in the process. of course, staring right in front of you too, was no one other than yourself. arched over, hunched over too, and lewdly crossed-eyed.

you probably looked a sight.

ruffled, shaggy strands of hair glued to your forehead. as your jaw was goofily hanging—just forever open with an agape ‘lil mouth that’s covered with geto’s hand, your wet tongue licks a path around his warm palm.

gasping for any ounces of air that you could get with his hand printed over your mouth, your cheek then prints against the cold, frigid mirror with how harder his thrusts were getting. “f- fuck, sugu mmph!” you coo out, feeling your thighs tense at each popping slam. remnants of whiteish, dried cum painted against your thighs. a licentious, dirty reminder of just how much he was claiming you from behind.

round after round and it turned from minutes to hours of just getting filled from every orifice with geto’s hot, creamy cum. geto’s cock wears you thin in every goopy crevice ‘n corner of your wet pussy, causing your poor larynx to sound hoarse from all the moaning within no time.

he’s pumping in all inches—grinding into your hips as you moved, cutely trying to jostle your waist to his rhythm but failing horribly.

“mngh- slutty girl, look at that ass tryna fuck me back. A for effort, i guess,” he grunts with a sneer, admiring the tears of sweat that started to gloss down your arched spine. so pretty..

almost looking akin to a necklace, a huge hand wraps around your throat before making sure you face yourself in the mirror. geto slides his other palm away from your mouth, scoffing at the webby sleek strings of spit following before he rubs it all over your mouth. “don’t look away, look at how your face gets when you…hah- slut yourself out on my dick, doll.”

“ugh- harderrrr,” your moans were starting to turn bouncy, and he was fucking you with every damn fiber of his being. geto’s buckled knees bury into the silk padded mattress and he’s dragging out hoarse gasp after gasp from your parched throat. his hits against your ass were loud, they sounded like bongos with how rough his pelvis creates music with each drumming hit.

“mmh- so good, so fuckin’ good,” your whines continue to drag out, and you’re tasting treacly salted saliva on your rosé buds.

through your peripherals, you spot geto working his hips into you. you couldn’t help but take a glance at his snatched waist that’s just so slim. he’s swerving into you at full speed, creating 360 donuts with his sloppy hips as he accelerates. geto sucks in a sharp, smoky break as he continued to plummet into your cunt over ‘n over again until you’re cutely clinging onto the mirror for leverage.

“cute,” he clicks his tongue, lowering his darkened irises down the curving arch of your bent-over back. from behind you, you heard him whistling at your watch before spanking your ass. the glossy sweat that remained on your backside shines bright, brighter than any sun—creating a creeping glow in the sunlight from the cracked open curtain in the distance. “good girl. lie back. all ya gotta do is.. hah- lie back ‘n let me have my way with this sloppy-fuckin’-cunt.”

each malleable thrust gets enunciated with each hard whack against your pussy that makes your teeth jitter. you’re moaning, barely able to keep up with his zealously, agile pace before the slit tip of his cock diagonally slithers its way near your clit. milliseconds pass before you then start to feel his crowned tap-tap tapping against your bumpy cervix. it’s a mean tap, and your eyes crossed even further together with your tongue abjectly lolling out. “s- shit, that spot. that.. mngh- suguru!”

a handful of nerves swim their way into the bottom parts of your stomach before you whine. you’re panting continuously, gently shoved face first against the now fogged mirror that was in directly front of you. it’s steaming up because of your harsh, wheezing breaths before you squeal. it’s quick, but your legs end up collapsing and so does your entire body.

“ ‘m cummin’, fuck!” you yawp, gasping breathlessly at that sliiiight turn of his pivoting hips. geto’s cock runs all through you, kneading your cunt with each brutal thwack.

sweetened whimpers pour from your lips once you end up meeting your euphoric maker. “ugh- s.. suguru,” low, pulled lids of your eyes start to feel heavy as you struggle to keep them open. you’re pussy’s wetly squalling, letting off squelches as you smothered geto’s thick cock from swollen top to bottom with your slick essence. “f- fuck, spank m-”

“quiet, baby,” geto shushes you, a hand wrapping back around the base of your throat. with a swift slap of his roughened palm, he spanks you again anyway, and you purr out a cute ‘ooooh’ right away.

your tongue still sticks out against the reflecting steamed mirror. you’re so close to it that you’re nearly suffocating from your tepid, pants of breath washing back into your face. he’s still inside, feeling you weakly try to arch your ass up but your face slumps further against the glass. “aw, relax, sweetheart. i gotcha,” and as you’re still whimpering, geto pulls out his vermillion-colored tip.

he silently hisses at your dewy, wet grip, gazing at your dripping cunt that’s covered with sparkling white strands of your mess. groaning, he rubs his angered tip over your pussy in a greedy circle.

“mhm- keep goin’ suguru,” you’d frantically toss your hips around in a circle - begging, aching for him to fuck you against the mirror again. it’s even cute with how your ass did a wordless cute shake against his leaky tip, rubbing your very entrance over his sweltering, dewy-coated tip.

“god- such a fuckin’ slutty girl, can never say no to that preeeetty-shakin’-ass,” geto huffs, pausing between each word as his hand swipes against your tender feeling rear. still aroused, he grunts as his bulky cock twitches each time your skin jiggles against the sharp greeting contact.

geto flips you over with one beefy arm, tying his hair into a hurried slothful ponytail before cocking his head. “legs, raise ‘em for me, high baby,” and once you comply, geto hums, closing the distance between you and him by sliiiiding his way in between your raised legs.

in a husky voice, he smacks his plump tip against your pussy before biting your bottom lip while maintaining direct eye contact. “hah- that’s it, stretch those fuckin’ legs for sugu, sweetheart. and while you do thaaat,” geto grumbles, stealing a low-pitched moan from you once he delves a thick finger inside of your swallowing cunt.

“i gotta make her cream on me at least an extra four more times, heh..”

NANAMI ★ KENTO.

“like this, sweetheart?” nanami murmurs, grabbing a secure amount of hair to wholly fit into the coarse palm of his hand.

he’s gentle nonetheless, hearing your cute shallow breaths once his hips fatally stop. as you’re arched over a side of the bed, your wobbly hands piercing into the fat mattress. nanami’s unpredictable movements have you speechless, blinking thrice because who knew such a man was so nasty in bed?

of course—the only exception was his pretty wife, you. and nanami didn’t mind getting kinky for his beloved precious, even if you wanted to try something as vulgar as backshots..

he’s all the way inside you, not even moving an inch and yet it felt like he was already obliterating every part of your goopy, clamping walls.

“mhm- yeah. fuck me ‘n then just start pullin’ on it if i try to crawl away, ‘ken.” you moan, feeling that all too familiar thumping sensation arises between your quaking, sore thighs. near the very undersides, you felt the brief pants of tenderness lingering against your skin.

nanami tilts his head, shrugging out a complying, “alriiight,” and you gasp once he softly tightens the grip against your hair just a bit. “this okay? ‘m gonna start movin’ for you.“ earnestly impatient, you nod, and the blond tries to suppress a smile. already, he felt your cute body trying to wriggle away but as you said, he gently tugged you back by the hair. “anything for the kinky wife i guess. brace yourself though, honey. work’s been.. hah- rough.”

and when nanami fucks, he Fucks - capital F.

you’re holding back pitiful muffled moans as he pulls off his tie, softly stuffing it in your mouth. it’s tasteless - and you’re whimpering, feeling every stinging whack from his hips slam into your ass every three seconds.

nanami’s sweat-drenched fingertips caress both sides of your curvaceous hips—feeling all down your loving physique as he’s ferociously fucking into you at such a disrespectful speed.

every thrust was insanely languid, barely giving you time to gather up a thought in your dull, empty brain. “kento, ohmygoddd,” your voice timidly cracks, already drenching the end part of his thigh with your bubbly drool. he’s churning your insides through and through like one would churn a fresh batch of hot butter. and god- nanami’s just rocking into the rear of your ass like a boat that’s forever rickety. “harder.. pull it, baby, pull my fuckin’ hair.”

“yes, ma’am,” he raspingly responds, having the same firm grip on your hair. dozens of seconds later, a nice amount of your hair yanks back and your eyes cutely widen. you fall back and so do your hips, continuously and sloppily landing back against his hips. it’s still gentle nonetheless, but his hips were so cruel. you’d never get used to that heavenly stretch of his cock.

it’s mouthwatering, and you’re just melting at the sheer sounds of each bouncy slap! of balmy skin. nanami hears the cute bundle of gargled whines struggle to leave your throat once he grabs your hair, and he purrs. “mhm, liked that, sweetheart? should i pull again? can’t leave my woman all horny ‘n unsatisfied, hm?”

“mmph- pull.. hah- harder, ‘ken,” you nod, your words still a bit hushed and gagged from his work tie. the bed’s so unsteady, you were just it was gonna snap into two at any second. as he keeps up a decent rhythm, your jaw ends up dropping once his peachy tip greets your clit with a knocking slam. he hears another gasp slip from your lips before your ass lifts.

with another solid yank, nanami pulls a bit harder, and this time, he’s faintly snickering at how cute your body was - just slamming back into him like it already knew its territory. riiiight as his fattened tip makes itself known to your pretty, pulsating clit, you squeal out a bellowing yelp.

there!

like a q-tip, his rounded cockhead swaaaabs its way around your tightening entrance before the deep thrusts continue. your eyes were just bulging out each of their sockets, and you were speechless for a while before squealing out a cute, “ohmygu- ‘ken something’s coming. s- something’s coming kento.”

“i know, sweetheart,” he whispers, slowing his sloppy hits down but making sure that his thrusts remain deep deep deep. he studies your gyrating ass and how it flawlessly ricocheted against his skin. with each barbaric smack of your ass clashing into his pelvis, he feels both sweaty pounds of skin arise with blistering temperature.

but the last thing you’d expect was to gush right onto his cock, legs cutely twitching with a squalling whimper ripping out of your strained chords. the release was so sudden, that your eyes widened dramatically as your lips parted into a pretty bewildered ‘oh!’

the feeling was just so erogenous, and your entire body underneath his fell into jerking spasms. “my, oh myyy,” nanami gruffly murmured, still maintaining a gentle yet tight grip on the back of your head. soft, massaging fingers glissade down your scalp at his grasping hold before he feels your ass weakly writhing back into him. “messy girl, that’s it. make a mess for me, sweetheart. ‘s okay, let go.”

“u- ugh!” your brows curl, and your cunt was just dripping like a faucet - profusely. his tip stopped all types of movement, brushing against your convulsing clit as you kept gushing and he grunts. right there - right fuckin’ there.. he felt your pulse, relishing in the faint sloshing sounds that occurred between the stickiness of both fleshy thighs meshing against the skin. “fuck, fuck, fuuuck ‘ken.”

“ ‘y did so good,” nanami breathes, his wet tie drenched with your saliva flopping out past your lips. he pulls out, and his dick exits your watery pussy with a cute plap. the sheets were all soaked with your wetness and nanami’s panting, smearing his flesh-colored crown around your shriveling entrance. pulse after pulse, you’re still eager for him to get back inside despite how your entire body was shivering from your recent mind-boggling finish. “always loved myself a wet wife,” nanami softly smacks his veiny cock against your teary slit.

“the wetter the better, haah- darlin.’ let’s try that again,” and you whine, feeling his dick slap against your crying, wet pussy. with a click of his tongue, nanami lets off a deep, heavy sigh. “think she needs a bit more.. ah- velocity training.”

SUKUNA ★ RYŌMEN.

“heh- your smart mouth’s almost as annoying as your weak arch, little girl,” sukuna snickers, keen-witted canines briefly poking out his lips.

you’re moaning, letting off occasional pitchy swear words whilst getting absolutely destroyed by the king of curses himself. he always treated your pussy like an enemy — using his favorite technique, absolutely annihilating your g-spot.

the fleecy, thin straps of sukuna’s kimono tickled against your skin as he’s driving his thick cock deep into you with such rigorous might. hit after hit after hit, sukuna’s dick was just as angry as he was.

as you were whining, your voice was steadily forming raw and strained as those cute little ‘oooh’s!’ sweetly cried out from your dried voice box.

his tip’s got such a curve that makes your insides tingle. “oh….f- fuuuck,” you heave in a single sharp breath, feeling your tummy cowardly tuck its way inward. sukuna’s cock’s greedy, and each stroke makes your eyes bulge wider ‘n wider out of their sockets. he’s bottomed balls deep, and you could hear his animalistic pants bellow huskily from behind you. playfully, sukuna trails a claw down your back, watching you writhe at something as simple as his touch.

“ ‘m not gonna last, ‘kuna, s- so big, stretchin’ me so fuckin’ go—ah!” you whine, getting a face full of a fluffed pillow. he’s got an angle that makes you feel it all, every single inch pumping inside of your cunt—introducing itself against your pearled nub each passing second.

his hips were viciously vicious, and you’re just drooling from the cracks of your mouth at each girthy centimeter prying your insides open. “ughhh- don’t stop, f- fuck me. fu—”

“ahh,” sukuna tuts, and you whimper once his palm wetly spanks against your stuffed pussy. pasty, teary droplets briskly coat his hand before he rubs circles against your tender clit. with his hips securely pressed right up against your jerking ass, sukuna licks your ear. “you’ll get your turn to speak. but right now, she’s the star right now, not you. have some class, wet girl.”

as popping wet sloshes cry from the opened arc of your legs, and you feel sukuna’s forked tongue flick against your neck. “mmh- she’s so nasty, talk talk taaaalk. jus’ like her dumb fuckin’ owner..” sukuna brings your hips up with two hardened palms, making sure your face stays shoved deep into the mattress.

with a cute wiggle, your ass rewinds into him and he grunts at the immediate jiggle. with a loud, briefly stinging whack, he spanks you—hearing those cute ‘lil clamors leave your cracking throat before seconds later and he’s back to thrusting.

sukuna’s cock was dangerous - you already felt yourself getting more ‘n more stupid the harder his hips snapped into you. vehemently, his strokes turn languidly sloppy within seconds, and you mouth out a cute silent ‘ohmyfuckin’godddd!’ blood-shot eyes rove down your bouncing frame and how you were bent over just for him and only him. “mng- m’lord, there- there pleaaaase!”

“don’t know who’s louder,” the demon snarls under his breath in a tone dripping with amused mockery. he stares as your ass extends upward and you’re arched right over, face pathetically buried into his velveteen-made sheets.

every clashing pap of ridden skin never failed to echo through his chambers, and the gluey feeling of sticky, crashing thighs makes his fangs sharply nip into his lip. “mngh-” his dick swirls a shape-like motion all arooound your pussy, easing a secret pathway way into your cervix and you short circuit instantaneously.

sukuna huffs lowly, clawing more of his black whetted fingernails into the skin of your plush ass. “you or this fuckin’…hah- talkative pussy. can’t even hear myself think.”

“suh- suku-” you squeak, dumbing down from each second he spends battering his fat cock inside of you. your walls were tight, desperately clinging to him, clamping vigorously before popping out a cacophony of wet plops. your eyes were already rolled back, and your blocked vision met with a dark void of darkness. “ah-” you end up drooling, a stream of saliva starting to bubble from the corners of your twitching lips. sukuna’s deeeeep, nearly creating an unforgettable bulge with how he easily pushes his entire weight against your ass.

your mind’s completely empty . . but, you’re transported right back to reality once you hear a splitting crack of wood. as sukuna’s still driving his thick cock into your slobbering pussy like a madman, he hears that eerie ‘creeeeak’ sound.

it’s the headboard—and, within seconds, the bed awkwardly flops, and you heard the boxspring weakly snap from underneath. “ngh-” sukuna grunts, the both of you briefly collapsing from the bed calling quits to support the ridiculous weight. your release pauses as you pant, wondering what happened, and the curse just slyly snickers at you. “ ‘s all good. just a little bed break,” and you felt his forked, slimy tongue lick down your sweat-covered back. he huskily ‘ah’s’ once he allows his tongue to savor your natural taste before groaning.

his cock’s aching.. and the top of his cock’s flushing a pearly, shimmery color of velvet red. a thumb of his pulls a bit of lingering foreskin before he brings his crowned cockhead toward your pretty puckering hole. sukuna notices you trying to crane your head to look at your ass but he tsks, making you face back in front.

“turn that head back the fuck around. just because the bed broke doesn’t mean ‘m not done breakin’ this pussy too, little girl. now open up for me. goood girl.”

SATORU ★ GOJO.

“oh, oh- wait a minute, angel,” satoru pauses mid-thrust, pressing his naturally sculpted pelvis against your ass. you’re moaning once he wraps a smooth hand around your throat, bringing pink glossed lips toward the lobe of your ear. “are you cryinnn’?” and indeed, you were.

he’s been hitting you from the back so deep ‘n so good that you’re fighting back fat, glittery tears. they stick to your lashes, nearly blinding you with each flapping blink and you moaned for him to not stop - not now, not ever.

snickering smokily, satoru then starts to use his other hand to maneuver sloppy, wet shapes around your slippery, stuffed cunt.

“sooooo tender for me, hm?” and satoru’s lanky dick stretched you thin - wearing you thin with every long inch, causing your brows to cutely twist in rapture. “tsssk. can’t help but be emotional and wet for me, cute..”

“s- satoru, don’t stop- please,” your sweet pleads and begs instantly making his cock twitch inside of you. you shuddered, feeling a vein of his prod on his foreskin, nipping against your insides as he moved. satoru was so long, but even longer inside..

it’s probably been round after round, but you’re already salivating for more. his slim body was pushed right up against yours, and you felt the snowy, wooly hairs that were taped to his base drag all across his skin. he’s such a tease though. you could merely feel that annoying smug grin boring right into the back of your skull, despite how you weren’t even facing him. “ngh- finish.. fucking me.”

“oh! sounds like a demand, and y’know how i don’t like being given orders,” he hoarsely whispers, two rough hands pulling up your ass to create a deeper slope.

he’s in deep, idly massaging your clit with his tip not shifting at all. your wetness perfectly coats the entire thick base of his cock, and satoru could hear your pleading little squelches trying to sweet talk him at the same time too. “aw, is that back talk ‘m hearing?” and you whimper, hearing a slap sound between your legs.

satoru spanks your cunt - feeling you wriggle, desperately trying to rut back against him but he makes you halt. “ah- patience,” and your sweet whines fueled his ego oh-so-good. satoru’s slim waist sensually rocks against your ass, and you’re smacked by his rearing hips time ‘n time again. you’re probably so stupefied. your dripping tongue hung all out of your mouth as languid, airy pants roughly seized away from your lungs. “ ‘m gonna cum, satoru. you’re hittin’ that spot s- sooo good, mmg-”

“yeah, tell me how ya really feel,” and you gasp, feeling him push your knee into your chest. you’re still laid flat on your back, and now—he’s got an even deeper angle. his cock explores every part of your pussy, and that sticky grip on your ass makes him groan against your earlobe.

“think you just might have the strongest pussy, baby. grippin’ all… on me,” and as his voice deepens, maybe even quavering a bit from how sensitive he felt, satoru sucks sloppy kisses against your neck. “mhm- don’t think i can beat her. nope.. not when she’s being so fuckin’ hah- sloppy, shit.”

slosh after wetted slosh could be heard from between the open space of your legs and you’re whimpering. his tip’s constant thrashing so merciless - filthily showering your pearled nub with a kiss after pounding kiss until your legs were on the verge of snapping shut.

satoru’s closet pressed up against your bare rotating ass, grinding his washboard abs into your body and it just feels so hot. he swats a hand against your ass, intently sucking his teeth at the three-second jiggle before moaning lowly into your ear. “heh.. there’s that cute g-spot- i mean weak spot,” and with a rude collision—satoru’s thrusts slam into you at full impact, causing your brain to nearly hotwire.

it’s so abrupt that you didn’t even recognize your voice when your shrieking squeal came out. “mmph!” your eyes hugely bulge, and his cock’s stuffed soso many inches inside—sneaking a hand underneath your tummy just to feel you cutely heaving around his size. as you’re creaming down his hardened shaft.

sublimely, it stands tall inside of you and he heartily chuckles at your body’s retreating response. you’re shaking, barely being able to move your hips and your head ends up falling into the cushioned pillow with a soft thud. “s- satoru, don’t.. don’t stop,” and as your tongue remains lies flat down your lips, you put out a needy sob. “oh my go- hah- ‘m still.. cummin’.

“hm, okay,” satoru whispers, skipping a few warm fingers down your spine. you tense at his touch, and your back slightly raises before his dick loudly pops! it's way out of your sensitive pussy. trails ‘n trails of glistening, perspiring sweat paints down his pale frame before he flips you over. satoru treats you like a doll - a rag doll, and before you know it, you’re straddling on top of him.

with blurred, faded vision, you could see a cunning grin stretching across his pinkened lips before he aligns you. “ah, jus’ lie back against my chest, good girl,” he praises you, feeling your back recline against his ripped abdomen. you’re moaning, still shattering all rows of your teeth at your recent eye-rolling orgasm before satoru slings two arms underneath your legs.

you gasp, letting off a soft ‘oof!’ once he suddenly lifts you, openly gawking in awe at your creamy hole hovering over his crimson-shaded tip. “new position baby. ‘m gonna try usin’ infinity on this pretty cunt,” and you moaned, hearing a looooong stretch of his dick from behind you and you gulped.

was he-

satoru was making his cock longer, you didn’t even know he could do that but the anxious flutter between your thighs was almost embarrassing. your tummy steadily caves in ‘n out as you feel him starting to gradually sink into you.

attacking the left part of your neck with a barrage of wet, starving kisses—satoru hoarse grunts. “y’know what they say. eighth orgasm’s the charm, angel. now biiiiig fuckin’ stretch, lemme teach her how strong i can really get with a few extra inches, heh..”

TOJI ★ FUSHIGURO.

“c’mooon, pretty thing. let’s see that ass show me what it’s fuckin’ made of,” toji grunts, slightly tilting his right thigh up. he’s rude - hips far ruder though, and he’s just straight up plunging deep into your cervix until your tongue’s just sloppily hanging out your mouth.

with your lips wholly coated with a natural gloss of saliva, you’re damn near hysterical. he’s hitting you so deep, biting his lower lip each time your ass does that cute sticking smack right against his sharpened pelvis. toji’s washboard abs flex ‘n tense through his dingy white tank before he swats against your ass. “mhm- atta girl. entertain this dick girl, entertain- fuckin’- me.”

“mngh!” you squealed, your incoherent babble turning into muffles against the pillows in front of you. toji’s whole right-hand fits over your head and he lightly shoves your face into the mattress.

you’re whimpering, each rough slam into your rear sending staticky ringing through your ears. he’s so nasty, plowing into you with such lively horsepower that it makes you start to pant like a literal greyhound. “ ‘m gonna fuck, gonna fuckin’ cum, t- toooji.”

with a scoff, toji spanks your ass. “yeah? that’s nice.” his tone’s fuckin’ sly, he couldn't care less. your cunt’s so slippery, slickly gluing against his hairy base that piercingly pap! pap! paps! right into both twirling globes of your ass.

the sounds of repeated smacking flesh pitched louder and louder as both bodies rutted into each other. the bedroom filled with harmonies of rough slaps and groans, as well as your added whimper and whines from how good toji was plowing you into the shared king-sized bed. toji’s a menace when it came to his hips though.

he does this thing where he stuffs you all the way full with one single thrust….then pulls out… then back in…then back fuckin’ out..

“mhm- good…good, goooood,” his voice lowers, and so did his angle. toji’s cock had a bit of lean, lazy hook and it’s just sexy. it’s noticeable curve forever made itself known by just doing a single shimmy with his wide hips. from top to bottom of his cock that’s prodding with lightening shaped veins all over, he’s insanely big. “hah- look at that cute ass jus’ bouncin’ all on me. goddamn, babygi- fuck.”

toji even arched his back too, combing a few thickset fingers through his murky dark strands before feeling his dick swell up from the creamed top. he’s close, and with how good you were gripping around him, it wasn’t helping things much at all.

your insides were so gluey, sticking against him like pasty adhesive, determined to wring around him like the lewdest vice imaginable. “goddamn-” he groans, thin nostrils immediately flaring.

your pussy’s grip was ruthless - you squeezed and squeezed and squeezed, hearing toji’s grumbles huff underneath his breath. “ ‘m gonna make this tummy so nice ‘n plump,” he grouses, ravened brows curling together. vein after vein throbbing through his cock as he’s deepening his hits, giving the back of your tank top a firm grasp. you fall back into his cock at the pull, moaning and sweetly ‘ooh!’ ing at each jackhammering hit of his cock.

“mmgh- cum in me, toji,” you whimper, rocking your body against the dingy sage sheets with no shame. your body’s all slumped, humping against the bed with the front of your body as your right cheek pressed into the mattress.

toji’s buried to the very hilt, and his burning-up crown alone even started french kissing your cervix, dozens of times too. it’s indisputably sloppy, and you let off a gasp once you feel him swirling his stout tip alllll around your gummy insides, tap tap tapping against that beloved spongey texture. “don’t miss, f- fuck.”

“hah- with an arch like that, y’er askin’ for at quadruplets,” and his hips brutally snap into you. for a second, toji’s cock leaves you brain dead with the cause before his heavy, life-altering shaft. that exact spot that feels a bit bumpy, his tip rams against it and it scratches the left lobe of your brain so good. toji snickers, hearing you left off a pornographic ‘aaaah!’ at the abrupt discovered pressure. “ngh- better take it all then, don’t waste a fuckin’ drop, girl.”

it happens with such quickness—toji’s lowly growls, his husky orgasm sounding more like a gruff pitching battle cry. he’s slowing his hips before holding your wobbly hips in place. right as he’s cumming in you, toji’s burly body presses against your backside. you could feel him still grinding, although it’s a bit more weak.

“ugh- fillin’ you so well gotta getcha niiiice ‘n round f’m again. can’t leave my pretty mama without a.. hah- fill,” and it starts to pour deep inside. it oozes inside of your cunt, and it flows out so quickly that some even start to dribble down the crevices of your thighs. pretty, sloppy squelches could be heard from the occurring mess and toji dryly swallows. “mhm- she’s as nasty as you, babygirl. look at her swallowin’ it all up. so good.”

“tooooji,” you’d whimper, gasping once you felt a big thumb snail its way down your sopping pussy. wads of cum race down your thighs, and with a sloshing wet pop, toji pulls out his cock that was frothing from the velvet-reddened tip. he grunts, admiring your ass that still had itself raised, and he then leans down. toji inches his face toward your backside, using two wide hands to spread your ass apart.

“haaaah,” he pants against your dripping cunt, rolling out his tongue. you whimpered, clicking your teeth together once he starts to lap up the globs cum that was spilling down your thighs. it’s a loud sluuuurp! from toji’s mouth that gives you butterflies, but he then gives your clit a sweet munch with both pairs of lips.

toji rubs his lip scar against your pulsating cunt before snickering against your entrance, cleaning up his cum that glistened down your poor, aching slit that’s just so overflooded. “mhm- keep this arch, pretty girl. ‘m fuckin’ starved,” toji spits against your slick-covered heat before allowing the sheeny strings to land flat on his rolled out tongue.

“…and this cute pussy’s just askin’ to be devoured, heh..”

INO ★ TAKUMA.

“back… shots?” ino lets out a tremulous short breath, nearly drooling at the prurient sight of you arching over the armrest of the couch.

you were so breathtaking, even in such an erotic hunched-over position—face up ‘n pretty ass down. just to top it all off though, your pulled-to-the-side-panties that exposed your flooded dripping pussy only made things ten times worse. you even dared to sprightly throw your hips around in a circle, hearing a cute needy whine pull leave from ino’s lap. “o- okay, i can- i can do backshots.”

“don’t be scared, ino,” you hush in a sweet coaxing tone, your voice as smooth as silk. all types of warmth lingered on your tone. he’d probably cum just from listening to you speak if he wasn’t too careful. reaching a thumb from behind you, you drag a plump thumb down your puffed slit. soaked right away, ino watches before bringing the flushed crownhead of his cock towards your wet fluttering slit. it’s so wet—just aptly pouring with syrupy slick from the sides, the corners, hell- even the inner wet crevices…

ino felt his heart pounding, and he was holding back a moan once his plump cockhead swirls a circle around your swallowing entrance. you moan, arching more before humming. “mhm- like that. now fuck me, baby. fuck m-”

and oh- he does.

ino was a very quick learner because, within no time, you found yourself arched right over with his capped tip being greedily swallowed by your famished entrance.

ino’s so frantic - and it’s almost cute how he had no literal rhythm. he’s getting lost in your pussy—but after a few sloppy starting thrusts, he surprisingly locates every tender spot like it's nothing. you shudder as your hips start to rise, feeling a few wet droplets splat against your arched backside and oh, he’s really drooling now..

his breaths turn from steady to heavy within seconds, and he’s just hypnotized at how pretty your cunt took in all the turgid inches of his shaft. “s- sorry, can’t help it,” he meekly apologizes, wiping a hairy arm over his spit-glossed lips. his hands awkwardly grip your ass before you feel him swipe a slender digit toward your neglected hole.

“oooh,” he whimpers to himself, plugging it with the entirety of his stubby thumb. with his buttoned nose cutely wrinkling at the sensations of being full from both orifices, you whine out his name thrice. sweet repeated chants of ‘ino!’ ‘inooo!’ or ‘iiii-noooo!’ and it’s so melodic to ino, in a salacious way at least.

your cunt dewily clenches at him toying with your slick hole, and he pulls out his thumb before groaning. “god- ‘s no fair, baby,” and he’s still clinging onto your bouncing hips, staring as your ass starts to fuck back into him. speaking of toys, he couldn’t help but moan at how you rewinded your hips back into him oh-so perfectly.

it was like your entire waist was controlled, and ino’s grabbing at the plump cheeks of your ass at every moment he could. the slaps of skin were so loud, and they echoed through every cornering wall in the dimly lit bedroom. “don’t even…hah- know what ‘ta do with all this ass. phew- think ‘m gonna… faint.”

“don’t be dramatic, ino,” you skewed your hips around his cock, swallowing in a deep breath at the overly thick tummy-tucking stretch that surprises your pussy. he’s just big - rummaging through every important part of your guts before slap! you’re met with a stony coarse wham that makes your tongue flop out on his own. “f- fuck, right there. keep hittin’ that spot, oh- fuck!”

ino’s already in love… and, your hips were a smooth talker, if anything.

the way you moved and perfectly corresponded to him, he’s getting teary. it feels so damn good, the familiar tightening of his balls makes him nearly choke on an incoming exhale as he watches you throw back against him.

it was almost comical—you wanted to try backshots, and ino could barely keep up with your pace because technically speaking, you were fucking him. “god- baby, ‘m gonna cum. can’t.. can’t hold it, lemme finish inside pleaseplease,” and as he’s babbling, you could hear him sniffling.

your pussy was so good that it had him choking on his own words, stammering clumsily over every whiny syllable. ino’s hands never leave your hips, and he swats a few palms at your doughy ass that jerks right into him before sighing. you’re so stuffed already, but the thought of him dumping such a hot, buttery batch of cum inside you had you humming in longing contempt. “mhm- tell me, baby. your pussy’s gonna f- fuckin’ kill me, hah-”

“insiiiide, do it,” you whine, slightly raising your hips. god- the view, your slick twitching cunt had ino hearing his whole heartbeat through his ears. he was damn near mesmerized, and his tip was just weeping at the constant tender rubbing it was creating against your clit. your entrance slicked against him like velcro, and ino’s jaw was already clenching at the clingy sensation.

with of few more pops of his weak hips, ino eventually does cum - and it’s a lot.

a knot of, gooey fresh cum shoots right into you, quickly traveling through your insides. ino whines way louder than you, and he falls flat against your back. “ugh- baby,” he grunts, his voice cracking as soon as he falls into your embrace. it’s hot, and you moan once he continues to spurt thin ribbons straight deep into your womb. timid, soppily hands suffered with insane amounts of sweat before you felt his palms all around your body. even with ino still rawly pumping into you, he’s running his hands up and down the curvature of your waist—stopping at your ass, his favorite.

squelches ‘n squelches galore..

his softened cock remained plugging you full with all of its might—feeling your dribbling cunt tighten around the entirety of his length. it takes him a good while before he’s finally emptied his entire load, giving himself a subtle shake to make sure it’s all deep inside of you. “good boy,” you quietly hum, rolling over, swiping a thumb down your flooded cunt. ino pants, flopping onto your chest and he looks so in love. his face was flushing the more he deeply stared at you, and your eyes widened once you realized ino’s slowly pushing the crowns of your knees up to your chest. “hah- ino?”

“ ‘m not done,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a sweet, chaste kiss against your quivering lips. he moans at the soft prod of your tongue brushing against his before his pearly-colored tip whacks against your pussy that’s still spitting out tiny clumps of his cum.

“one more round. need t- to claim these walls before i claim your heart first, baby.”

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5sospenguinqueen · 2 days ago

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Papaya Rules | Oscar Piastri x Driver! Reader

Summary: From on-track rivals to reluctant teammates, the trauma of team orders issued by Mclaren bond you and Oscar in a way you never expected.

Warnings: mentions of papaya rules, swearing

Requested: Yes by @1800-love-me (a while ago. oops)

F1 Masterlist

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2023

f1 posted a new story

itsyn_ln replied and that’s community service for piastri → f1 girl, aren’t you supposed to be in the media pen → itsyn_ln five more minutes → i’m in no rush

mclaren replied no time to explain but we need you to delete this before oscar sees → we need them to get along

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

mclaren just posted

liked by landonorris, jackdoohan and others

mclaren breaking news mclaren f1 racing is pleased to announce that yn ln will be joining the team in 2024, alongside oscar piastri, on a multi-year contract. we cannot wait to see what she can achieve with us

33,814 comments

itsyn_ln thank you for this opportunity! now i need to figure out how to make orange look good on me

→ mclaren everything looks good on you

username1 wait, what? she’s oscar’s public enemy #1 and now she’ll be his teammate?

oscarpiastri and this is how i find out?

→ mclaren we didn’t want to give you a chance to protest

→ pierregasly i knew before oscar did? ha!

→ oscarpiastri don’t make me still target the pink car next year

→ itsyn_ln i’m feeling unwanted

jackdoohan @/itsyn_ln thanks for the seat

→ itsyn_ln i hope i kept it warm for you!

username2 poor osc is going to have to learn to manage this oddness

→ username3 poor osc is probably more focused on having to learn not to strangle her

alpinef1team losing another driver to the sinister evil and orange team

→ itsyn_ln at least you’ll miss me. i’m starting to think pierre lied when he said he would

→ pierregasly of course i did. you were staring straight at me without blinking

username4 don’t get me wrong, i can’t wait to see yn in a better car but i fear this was poor planning on mclaren’s part. they’re going to struggle with managing their drivers

landonorris i’m sorry, osco. i didn’t know me leaving was going to lead to this

→ oscarpiastri you’re not forgiven.

username5 i fear mclaren are not going to have the dream team they were expecting

→ username6 they need to prepare to see both papaya cars dnf’ing all the time next year

username7 i need that jacket!

→ mclaren all yn merch coming soon!

→ username8 they move fast. they’ve already got her in papaya and prepared to release her papaya merch

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2024

mclaren just posted

liked by patriciooward, gabrielbortoleto_ and others

mclaren and it’s a papaya 1-2 what a race! a phenomenal display of teamwork from oscar and yn

55,098 comments

username9 wtf was that

username10 i can’t decide which one of them was robbed more

username11 so they want them to become friends but then force them to concede wins???

username12 i never want to hear the phrase ‘papaya rules’ again. idk what it means but i know it was shit

username13 the fact that neither of them have interacted with this post shows that they’re not happy with their 1-2

username14 you guys need to chill. they were coming under fire from max, and yn was faster. oscar was holding her up and if they hadn’t have switched, max could’ve had them both

→ username15 there was two laps left. i’m sure they could’ve managed it

→ username14 did you not see all the purple sectors max was setting

username16 i hope oscar doesn’t blame yn for this

username17 unrelated but i love how much shorter yn is than osc in this pic. they’re so cute

→ username18 they’re mortal enemies. don’t start romanticising them

→ username19 they are so enemies to lovers coded

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oscarpiastri just posted

liked by itsyn_ln, arthur_leclerc and others

oscarpiastri enjoying a week off

44,287 comments

mclaren does this mean we’re friends again

→ oscarpiastri not yet

username1 mr piastri, sir, um, is that a WOMAN?

username2 look, it’s very nice to see that you’re alive and well but we no longer care about that because who is that in the last pic?!

charles_leclerc son, you didn’t tell me about this

landonorris a new teammate and a new partner. i see i’m being fully replaced

→ oscarpiastri don’t fuel the rumours about us

username3 oh so this is why twitter is freaking out

username4 the linked hands

username5 yn liked this? are they friends now??

itsyn_ln just posted

liked by mclaren, landonorris and others

itsyn_ln my boyfriend just won a grand prix, bitches!

73,220 comments

pierregasly was this meant to be posted on the burner account??

→ itsyn_ln oh shit

→ oscarpiastri oh, sweetheart

→ charles_leclerc and everyone thought i would tell!

itsyn_ln well, no point deleting it now. enjoy

→ username6 yn and oscar are dating?!!?

→ username7 and he calls her sweetheart?!?!?

username8 no one understands how precious these two are to me

username9 enemies to lovers come true

username10 these two were written by a wattpad user

alpinef1team sometimes we think we miss you and then you do stuff like this

→ mclaren sure you don’t want her back

→ username11 noooo don’t take our papaya partners away from us

username12 i’ve only had ynoscar for five minutes but if anything happens to them, i will kill everyone

username13 they said i was crazy but i knew! i knew there was passion between their feud

landonorris and you did so good to not kiss him in front of the cameras

→ oscarpiastri she’s more annoyed that now she shouldn’t have bothered

→ itsyn_ln want to smooch you for the world to see

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requests open

coming soon; max taste part 3 and franco x driver! reader

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finnbin · 17 hours ago

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i am fucking sobbing thank you so much yet also what the fuck

Undiagnosed

#this literally describes everything i had imagined him to feel?#like #you worded this SO well #his inner insecurities but him feeling like they don't matter because 'it could be worse'#'ford has it so much worse'#when of course ford doesn't have it worse #sure his trauma shouldn't be overlooked that's not what im saying #but ford has a support system #ford has his brother both his parents #ford had his intelligence to 'redeem' himself #stan literally had nothing #i love him having audhd/dyslexia headcanon etc so much #he's literally just like me fr #he is TRYING #he is trying so damn hard but he'll never feel like he's good enough bro #the three mini stans on slide three is genuinely killing me btw #“why can't you be more like stanford??”#dawg #“how cruel would that be...” DAWG #i will be borrowing some of these ideas for my fanfiction if that's okay with you #because MAN you get stan so good #in every drawing i can feel that disheartening that feeling of not being good enough #i also love the blush/red colouring you've done on these #AND how you draw noses #and mullet stan in your style yes #gravity falls #stanley pines #stanford pines #caryn pines #filbrick pines

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thebestsetter · 12 hours ago

Text

"Odysseus" showed us how much Ody has truly changed.

He's compared to almost all monsters in the musical during that one song.

His name's chanting is the same as Polyphemus', and he acts a little like him when he decides to kill everyone.

Po - ly - phe - mus ("Enough")

O - dy - sse - us ("I. Have had. Enough")

He aims for the torches just like Scylla.

"Eurylochus, light up six torches"

"Keep your head down he's aiming for the torches"

He rejected forgivness just like Poseidon did.

"Aren't you tired Poseidon? It's been 10 years how long will this go? We're both hurting from losses so why not end this here and just go home?"

"I can't"

"Oh king our leader's dead. You've destroyed the serpent's head. Now the rest of us are no longer a threat. Oh king forgive us instead, so that no more blood is shed. Let's have open arms instead!"

"No."

Also, there's an electric guitar in the song. It represents Odysseus' cunning and ruthless nature.

He IS a monster. But that's what got him home. And he'll embrace this side of him.

#epic the musical ithaca saga #the ithaca saga #ithaca saga #epic the ithaca saga #epic the musical

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canyonmooncreations · 3 days ago

Text

I can’t stop thinking about bratty princess reader x bodyguards 141

Something something your life is ruined now that your father has hired four broody body guards to be with you at all times. They usually rotate shifts, one staying with you at all times.

Sometimes events call for three of them or all of them. So when it’s time for a royal ball and three of them are needed, Simon opts to sit this one out in hopes to avoid the uncomfortable socialization.

After the ball, John stays at the palace with you and Kyle and Johnny join Simon back at their residence. Simon is absolutely baffled when the boys don’t shut up about how bratty you were and the major attitude adjustment you need.

Talking about how you refused to follow directions, even when they were for your safety. Refused to buckle up in the car and struggled so much that Johnny had to hold you down while Kyle buckled you up. Pouting the rest of the way home. Refused to eat dinner at the ball and insisted they stop at a drive through even though that wasn’t on your itinerary. Threatening to get them fired if they don’t take you.

The boys go on and on about your behavior and Simon just listens, dumbfounded.

“What’s that face for Riley? She even worse with you?” Johnny asks with a frustrated tone.

Simon shakes his head. “No attitude for me.”

The boys both start laughing. There’s no way that’s true. You’re truly a spoiled rotten brat, they think. There’s no way that he’s serious.

They never believe him until there’s an event that calls for all four of them. Simon’s with you at the palace while you get ready. The three boys pull up out front ready for you to join.

They watch as you walk nicely to the car and climb into the middle settling in next to Johnny. Simon climbs in after you. The boys are ready for the battle of asking you to buckle up.

“Buckle, princess” Simon grumbles.

“Yes, Mr. Riley.” The car goes silent. Johnny and Kyle look like their eyes are about to pop out of their head. John doesn’t miss the way your cheeks blushed red.

The car ride is silent. The boys are too shocked to say anything. Since when did you have manners and the ability to follow instructions? John drives with a grin on his face. Simon is unphased as you rest your head on his shoulder.

At the event, you are on your best behavior. You eat your food, move when instructed to move, and smile the whole time. The boys are genuinely so shocked at this new side of you. They watch in awe as Simon approaches you and the ever present feisty look is no where to be found.

“Ready to go?” Simon asks softly.

“Can we please stay a little longer?” You ask so kindly. Simon nods and finds his protective position.

“Did she just say please?” Johnny asked exasperated.

“She doesn’t even know what that word means!?!?” Kyle is just as shocked. John just chuckles and shakes his head.

They then watch as minutes pass and you gently tap Simon and tell him you are ready to leave.

When you get to the car, Johnny decides to put this to the test. Simon gets you in the car and closes the door to talk to the event staff before leaving.

“Buckle up sweetheart.” Johnny instructs.

You give him a polite nod and buckle up quickly. John lets out a chuckle and before Johnny can’t say anything before Simon is joining them in the car. “Bloody hell.” is all that is heard as the car falls silent.

On the way home, you lean over the Simon and ask if you could stop for ice cream. He replies with a simple “No, princess” and is met with no reaction from you. A slight nod and your head falls back against his shoulder.

Kyle is about to lose it. You threatening to get them fired if they didn’t take you through the drive through the other day. What the fuck has Simon done to you??

Something something and now it’s the end of the night. Simon has got you settled into bed and walks into the castle living room to review how tonight went with the security team.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Johnny and Kyle stare at him as if he’s accomplished the impossible.

“Told ya, no attitude with me.”

John chuckles and pats Simon on the back as he grins.

A/n: is this dumb?? It’s been eating my brain for a four hour car ride 😭😭

#fanfic #ghost cod #call of duty #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #tf141 #tf 141 x reader #body guard #tf141 x you

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fozmeadows · 1 day ago

Text

there is no ethical consumption under capitalism

Years ago now, I remember seeing the rape prevention advice so frequently given to young women - things like dressing sensibly, not going out late, never being alone, always watching your drink - reframed as meaning, essentially, "make sure he rapes the other girl." This struck a powerful chord with me, because it cuts right to the heart of the matter: that telling someone how to lower their own chances of victimhood doesn't stop perpetrators from existing. Instead, it treats the existence of perpetrators as a foregone conclusion, such that the only thing anyone can do is try, by their own actions, to be a less appealing or more difficult victim.

And the thing is, ever since the assassination of United Healthcare CEO Brian Thompson, I've kept on thinking about how, in this day and age, CEOs of big companies often have an equal or greater impact on the day to day lives of regular people than our elected officials, and yet we have almost no legal way to redress any grievances against them - even when their actions, as in the case of Thompson's stewardship of UHC, arguably see them perpetrating manslaughter at scale through tactics like claims denial. That this is a real, recurring thing that happens makes the American healthcare insurance industry a particularly pernicious example, but it's far from being the only one. Because the original premise of the free market - the idea that we effectively "vote" for or against businesses with our dollars, thereby causing them to sink or swim on their individual merits - is utterly broken, and has been for decades, assuming it was ever true at all. In this age of megacorporations and global supply chains, the vast majority of people are dependent on corporations for necessities such as gas, electricity, internet access, water, food, housing and medical care, which means the consumer base is, to all intents and purposes, a captive market. We might not have to buy a specific brand, but we have to buy a brand, and as businesses are constantly competing with one another to bring in profits, not just for the company and its workers, but for C-suites and shareholders - profits that increasingly come at the expense of workers and consumers alike - the greediest, most inhumane corporations set the financial yardstick against which all others are then, of necessity, measured. Which means that, while businesses are not obliged to be greedy and inhumane in order to exist, overwhelmingly, they become greedy and humane in order to compete, because capitalism encourages it, and because there are precious few legal restrictions to stop them from doing so. At the same time, a handful of megacorporations own so many market-dominating brands that, without both significant personal wealth and the time and resources to find viable alternatives, it's all but impossible to avoid them, while the ubiquity of the global supply chain means that, even if you can keep track of which company owns which brand, it's much, much harder to establish which suppliers provide the components that are used in the products bearing their labels. Consider, for instance, how many mainstream American brands are functionally run on sweatshop labour in other parts of the world: places where these big corporations have outsourced their workforce to skirt the already minimal labour and wage protections they'd be obliged to adhere to in the US, all to produce (say) electronics whose elevated sticker price passes a profit on to the company, but without resulting in higher wages for either the sweatshop workers overseas or the American employees selling the products in branded US stores.

When basically every major electronics corporation is engaged in similar business practices, there is no "vote" our money can bring that causes the industry itself to be better regulated - and as wealthy, powerful lobbyists from these industries continue to pay exorbitant sums of money to politicians to keep government regulation at a minimum, even our actual votes can do little to effect any sort of change. But even in those rare instances where new regulations are passed, for multinational corporations, laws passed in one country overwhelmingly don't prevent them from acting abusively overseas, exploiting more desperate populations and cash-poor governments to the same greedy, inhumane ends. And where the ultimate legal penalty for proven transgressions is, more often than not, a fine - which is to say, a fee; which is to say, an amount which, while astronomical by the standards of regular people, still frequently costs the company less than the profits earned through their unethical practices, and which is paid from corporate coffers rather than the bank accounts of the CEOs who made the decisions - big corporations are, in essence, free to act as badly as they can afford to; which is to say, very. Contrary to the promise of the free market, therefore, we as consumers cannot meaningfully "vote" with our dollars in a way that causes "good" businesses to rise to the top, because everything is too interconnected. Our choices under global capitalism are meaningless, because there is no other system we can financially support that stands in opposition to it, and while there are still small businesses and companies who try to operate ethically, both their comparative smallness and their interdependent reliance on the global supply chain means that, even if we feel better about our choices, we're not exerting any meaningful pressure on the system we're trying to change. Which means that, under the free market, trying to be an ethical consumer is functionally equivalent to a young woman dressing modestly, not going out alone and minding her drink at parties in order to avoid being raped. We're not preventing corporate predation or sending a message to corporate predators: we're just making sure they screw other worker, the other consumer, the other guy.

All of which is to say: while I'd prefer not to live in a world where shooting someone dead in the street is considered a valid means of redressing grievances, what the murder of Brian Thompson has shown is that, if you provide no meaningful recourse for justice against abusive, exploitative members of the 1%, then violence done to those people will have the feel of justice, because it fills the void left by the lack of consequences for their actions. It's the same reason why people had little sympathy for the jackass OceanGate CEO who killed himself in his imploding sub, or anyone whose yacht has been attacked by orcas - it's just intensified here, because where the OceanGate CEO was felled by hubris and the yachts were random casualties, whoever killed Thomspon did so deliberately, because of what he did. It was direct action against a man whose policies very arguably constituted manslaughter at scale; a crime which ought to be a crime, but which has, to date, been permitted under the law. And if the law wouldn't stop him, can anyone be surprised that someone might act outside the law in retaliation - or that regular people would cheer for them when they did?

#UHC #capitalism #brian thompson #luigi mangione #deny defend depose #late stage capitalism

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304files · 3 days ago

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IT TOOK TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS…. BUT IVE FINALLY READ THIS AND IT LITERALLY SHATTERED ME INTO A MILLION PIECES.

“i’d take you, promised to another man. i’d take you no matter how you are; in a thousand different lives, i’d have you each time.” who else SOBBED????

𝓐T 𝓢WA𝓝 𝓛AKE ﹐､﹒ c.bg ˏˋ੭ꠥ ¸ˎ

as both equals and opposites, white swan and black swan, it is paramount that you and choi beomgyu do not touch. the curse of your natures did not even make exception for incidental brushes. that was never an issue for you—not until the day the prince took it upon himself to break every rule you’d ever known. ⋆˛ ˛

⸺ listen to the playlist .ᐟ ‧˚

⸉⋆ ᧔ 🦢᧓ ･ 10.3k

𝒫airings ˒ black swan prince!beomgyu 𝓍 white swan princess!reader

𝒢 ‎⍪ smut ˒ fantasy ˒ forbidden romance

𝒲arnings ˒ smut, angst and longing, unprotected sex, lots of teasing, jealousy…, yearning and yearning, he cums on her, theyre both desperate, pathetically in love!beomgyu, shes all he wants, virgin!reader, loss of innocence, he talks her through it, he gets a little whiny… hmm i can’t remember if i’m missing anything. this is not proofread!! i’m gonna nap first.

✎୭ ashlynn's note @hmusunoo … baby you did your big one with this. i can not explain to you how excited i’ve been for this one. this is absolutely my favorite. it’s just so me, u know me so well and i think we should kiss. THANK U!

﹙⋞ ﹚... back to the 𝓂asterlist

Around you, mist and delicate flurries sit over white, fluffy blankets. Where it sits over the lake, it turns the horizon of the lake’s expanse into an obscured uncertainty. If you hadn’t spent so much time right here, you might think that it goes on forever.

It’s a beautiful, clear winter’s morning. Sparkling air wraps you in sweet and crisp tendrils, every breath to your lungs almost bitingly fresh. But in all its lightness, your chest only feels heavier. You had hoped that coming here would be a little, momentary respite. The air is so free around you, though, the weight doesn’t float away with it—it just leaves nothing but the feeling for you to contend with. No skittish wildlife rustle the foliage, and a thin film holds the crystalline lake from lapping at the bank. It seems that not even the wind moves. Just you.

It’s not your tears that you hide here. Sadness is a soft, gentle thing; an acceptable thing for a Lady like yourself to indulge in. It’s what the people expect of their princess. The demure and always prim White Swan. Always correct, always just how you should be.

Your tears are more like scalding, molten licks of fire than the slow, darling tears that are expected of you, though. They’re angry. It clashes up against the walls you’ve built up within yourself, against the role you’ve assumed.

That’s why you’ve come here. Coarser emotions are unbecoming of you, and it’d be a shame to feel them in front of others. It’s a shame that you’re letting yourself feel it now, even. You summon a thin sigh, funneling up all the tangy bitterness on your tongue to let it fall out into the air before you.

It doesn’t do much for you, really. This—feeling like this, so beyond the reach of your usual ways to shove down ugliness—is unfamiliar. Your entire life has been this, why do you struggle with it now? In the center of you, mingling with that anger, it’s as though a blackness blooms. Like a wretched flowering of some invasive plume, or perhaps the floating of inky black feathers through your bloodstream, you feel painted dark and unpleasant.

Holding the dappled fur of your shawl closer, you decide to watch chunks of crystal white ice float on the water’s surface. Or maybe the on-and-off snowflakes that float down around you. Even tracing the lengths of barren branches, lined with white fluff so still and serene, with your eyes. Anything but delving into what that tainted tug inside is, or what it might mean about you.

Snow crunches, or maybe a branch shifting, beckons your attention. But the foliage isn’t too thick, and trees are sparse around the lake, and there is always some small winged creature fluttering between branches out here. So, you brush it off.

A tingling about your person, some sort of whispering premonition, whisps and tugs just around your person. You straighten up at another thick step crunching in the snow from behind you. This time, you can’t explain it away.

A figure greets you. Dark, raven strands of silken hair fallen over eyes of the same, his skin so stark against it, black shoulder cloak on his shoulder flowing like velvet water against his billowing sleeves all ruffled and enamoring. He glitters like the frost, twinkling silver threads and black crystals sewn in to catch the light and make a show of him. Standing there, looking at you, he doesn’t look caught or frozen.

But you are. Wholly still, all of you like a sculpture of frost, you gawk right at him. You’d never interacted with the prince, the black swan. Never even seen him. It was never in the cards. Fear like ice curls clawed fingers over your heart and grasps it.

All your life, grand warnings of terrible things of him and what might happen should the two of you ever touch fell from the mouths of those around you. It was the constitution of who the two of you are—born to be the balance to each other, never to touch. Just an incidental brushing of fingers meant turning the world’s balance over on its head. They told you that the world would begin to fray at the seams, reality would warp, and that it’d be all your fault. And they also told you plenty about who the prince was as a person, too. Not only do you fear him for the curse of your nature, but also for all the nasty things you’ve heard of him. This, meeting him, was a thing of your deepest-cutting nightmares.

And, there, he stands in front of you.

“What are you doing out here crying?” Beomgyu says, curious eyes darting over your face. Under his gaze, you’re not sure how to feel. But you feel every last bit of it, regardless.

You wipe at your cheek, where he must’ve seen the wet streaks glistening in the light. Summoning some poise up from where you keep it in handy, you say, “It’s no matter. I was just looking out on the snow.” You fix up your hair and your dress.

The prince frowns, studying your face once again. Utterly unconvinced by what he finds there, he gestures toward you. “You’ve been crying, princess,” he says. “I didn’t think that lying was in the cards for you.”

Lying? Not in the cards for you? Lying is all you do. You lie to yourself and to others more than you are honest. “Maybe, but I’m well,” you say, and then you lift the soft skirts of your dress to step without treading it in the snow. “Really, I ought to get home before the snowfall gets heavier. It was lovely seeing you.” You try and make sure to keep a good and proper distance from him as you make for where you arrived here from.

Beomgyu reaches out for you, only pulling back from grabbing your arm at a frighteningly slim realization. “Wait,” he says, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he realizes what he’d almost just done. “You don’t have to leave. Why is it that you cry?”

He’d almost touched you. That close—you’d come that close to tragedy in only the first moments of your meeting. Your heart pumps out sizzling, frantic energy that has you looking at him wide-eyed and shaken. “I think you and I both are the most aware why it’s best that I leave,” you tell him, keeping it curt. You hold your arms to you.

Strong brows knitting, he shakes his head and stakes some big steps back. The snow, sat powdery and calf-high on the ground, creaks beneath them. “I’ll stay back here,” he says. “Just don’t go. Won’t you entertain me? It’s a gentleman’s duty to help a weeping Lady.”

You falter. The words might have you blushing and offering him a modest thank you, but the way he says it—it’s rather taunting. It’s taunting in a way that gets right up under your skin and ruffles your feathers. “And why does it bother you so?” you ask him, arching a dainty brow. You’re not even sure why he’s come out here in the first place. This is the one place that you ordain your own. It seems that not even here can you be totally alone. “They’ll have a fit if they know I was here with you.”

The prince, with his clear, ethereal features cracking into a wicked amusement that you’re not sure how to digest, says, “Perhaps they will.” He tilts his head at you, wispy strands of hair moving over his shadowed eyes with it. “But, princess, that’s the fun in it. That they will admonish you for it. Is that why you’re crying?”

Fun? Nothing about what your people, your parents, might do should they find that you’d not only been near but spoken to the black swan, is fun. You level him wary eyes. And, though sense tugs at your feet and asks you to get going, you do not. You do not know why.

“I think it is.” He’s got an obnoxious tilt to his lips. “I think that’s why you cry.”

A scoff, an abrasive and distasteful sound coming from you, falls out from your mouth. There’s that awful imprudence and temerity that you’ve heard of the black swan—everything you ought not to be. “You seem the type to know everything,” you say.

He laughs, delighted. “Is that snark?”

Pursing your lips as though confused, you spin spiced threads of patronization into your voice. “Not snark,” you say. “Just an observation.”

“Hmm.” Beomgyu slides his hands into his pockets to warm his hands. “Might I make an observation about you, princess?”

There’s interest written all over his face—you know he’s playing some sort of game. You also know that you shouldn’t indulge him in it. Still, you do. A slight raising of your brow, or maybe the interest twinkling in your eyes, too, tells him to go on.

“I think that you are too dutiful for your own good,” he says.

In a slight, testy step, he inches closer. Not so close that you worry, but the two of you are not even supposed to be in the same room. Anything is too close. You mirror it with a step back. “You don’t know me,” you say. Against your better judgement, though, your lips twitch into a soft smile. The kind of smile that is insistent, no matter how you refuse it. “So, I believe your wonderings to be entirely groundless.”

Hair blowing gently in the wisps of a winter wind and his nose and cheeks gone pink, he says, “Oh, princess. Hardly. I think we know a great deal about each other.”

Well, that’s true enough. All your life you heard of him and your curse. You’re sure it was no different for him, no matter your differences. “And what do you know about me?” you ask.

Beomgyu’s laugh falls out in a white puff of curling frost. “I know it’s been arranged that you’ll marry a superior Lord,” he says. He observes you. “Am I right?”

So fast, just with that, lightness falls from your face. You hadn’t wanted to be reminded. Your feet itch to be off, so that you can feel it elsewhere. Not here; not in front of him. Leveling yourself so that your voice doesn’t come out as stilted as you feel, you say, “Yeah. You are.”

With his eyes narrowing on you, he says, “You know, it’s weird. I’ve never seen a girl excited to be wedded look like that when it’s brought up.”

You reign in your face and shake your head. “I am perfectly excited. It’s a blessing to be married into such a family.” As much as you smooth over the furrowing of your brows, or make your expression pleasant, it’s not so easy to tame the picking of your fingers.

Anything other than excited, you might be. But absolutely not that. In fact, you are beyond yourself with anger, and you have nowhere to go with it. It bubbles hot just under your skin and demands a release that you cannot give.

Being who you are, it’s been a truth you’ve known your whole life. Someday, you were going to be offered like a shiny, silver pawn to the highest bidder. And you, as the world’s white swan, are quite the enticing thing to own. You thought you’d banished the hope for a union of love right where you’d left the sense of self behind: years ago. The time’s come now, but you aren’t as at peace with it as you should be. No matter how hard you try, you are more human than you’d like to be, and far too human to be what the world expects you to be.

If you’re going to be frank with yourself: you do not want to marry him. Living as something bought, expected to live forever as this mellowed out, poised version of yourself by the side of some man who you don’t even know or love... Of any fate you might be made to live, you think that this one is the worst.

Beomgyu begins working on taking off his jacket, a white and pretty thing with thick, winter fabric. He offers it to you. “You don’t have to lie to me about it. Maybe them, but not me.”

You look between him and his offering hand—his perfect features that are so elegant, and yet, there’s a wildness to him in those hard black eyes. If you didn’t already know so much about him, you might still be able to see the untamed in him. Who couldn’t? He wears it plainly; without remorse. You’re not sure how to interact with it, but, in a way, you envy him.

Reaching out, you accept the jacket from his hand. Tentatively, with great care so as to avoid touch, but you do.

It’s nice and soft against your frost-kissed shoulders. But it’s not enough to fix the bite against the skin on your face, so you trudge through the snow over to the sparse tree line, where the trunks might protect you better from it than the flat expanse of the lake’s surface. You press your back to a tree, and he mirrors it on the tree opposite to you. Looking over the great lake, so very serene. It twinkles with an ice film like sugar crystals atop its surface. “I guess I’m just... scared,” you say. The words come out soft and uncertain.

He nods. Listening. So, you continue. “I don’t even know him. I haven’t spoken to my betrothed once. Maybe I’ll get to know him, and maybe he won’t be bad, but...”

“But he’s not who you want,” Beomgyu says. “Not who you love.”

Licking your winter-chapped lips, you eye him for a moment. You nod slowly and say, “...Yeah. I suppose it’s selfish, but...”

Ignited, Beomgyu pushes off the tree to say, “Selfish? You give your whole life to being their saint. Maybe they think they do, but they don’t own you.”

You, not us. Frowning, you ask him, “Are you not set for some marriage of convenience?” Marrying is different as a woman, but you don’t doubt that the prince’s family intends to strengthen alliances by offering his marriage up to some optimistic, lesser family with a daughter to bargain the way yours has done with you. Every last girl and boy born as you two have been—destined to a life bigger than yourself, a force in the world as much as you are a person—have lived just the same. All of them. Each incarnation of the white swan, and you’re sure every black swan too. The people of this world paint you as embodiments of balance and life, but use you more like power plays. Even your own parents. You were born from your mother all the same as all your siblings, but as much as it aches to admit it, you are not their child. In the back of your throat, hurt and bare anger wells up thick.

He half laughs, half scoffs. “They could try. It doesn’t matter to me. They’d have to kill me before I do their bidding. Is it our fault that we were born this?” he says. “I’m going to live my life how I want, no matter what.”

You tuck your hands into your sides, where they warm between the jacket and your body heat. His words and how he looks at your lives, it’s everything you’re not. Sense of self and determination to live for more than just your predetermined role—while you’d surrendered it all, he lives thrashing and fighting against it. A product of your mirrored and opposite natures.

“Why?” you say, teeth chattering a bit under the cold’s caress. “You have a girl in mind?”

That sounds nice. Being so hopefully devoted to someone, and them to you, that you might war against destiny for it. The thought only nurses hurt somewhere deep in your chest, though. Not for you. Never for you. You could be the prettiest on this Earth, the kindest, the most disciplined, or the least even. Still, that would never be yours. You know that, so why does it taste so bitter?

A quick look, something new, passes over him. In his eyes, you see it. He looks at you for a long minute, the morning so quiet that nothing but tranquility hangs in the air for a moment, and then finally says, “Yeah. Something like that.”

Entirely intrigued, you ask, “Who? Is she a Lady?”

Beomgyu nods his head, that strange look lingering. “Of sorts,” he answers, crossing his arms over his chest to lean back into the bark. “And your betrothed? Some well-off Lord?”

A smile ghosts over your mouth. “Probably. I haven’t a clue who it is; but I’m sure he’s got enough coin to spare, if my parents settled on him.”

The lines of his face gone playful, he says, “Not possibly more well-off than me.”

Your nose crinkles. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you say. A husband with money is nice. You can’t pretend that you don’t think of that, especially that none of your family’s wealth belongs to you, nor will it follow you into your marriage. Your heart revolts regardless.

Shrugging after a few beats of silent considering, he turns his attention on the lake. His face turned like that, you admire the straight slope of his nose and his eyelashes as they flutter with his heavy eyes. Like the rest of him, his side profile is a contradiction. Strong and noble, but elegant like hewn from marble. It’s perfect. With all the talk in your ears, you’d pictured something far off from the youthful, wry man stood before you. Why you’d come to imagine him brutish, you’re not sure; he’s as much swan as you. Different and mirrored all the same.

“I used to come here all the time,” he says.

“Here? To the lake?” You perk up. This had been your hideaway as a girl; where you’d come at times like this when you needed to bury something away. You thought it’d been just yours. “I wonder how we never ran into each other. I used to do the same. I guess, I still do.”

When his eyes fall back on you, they’re softer. More deep brown than black, but maybe it’s because you’re closer now. He says, “Well, I came here once or twice on my own, maybe when I was five. I didn’t really start coming back until I saw you. You were crying, all snotty, and throwing bread out for some ducks.”

Your face twists up, maybe at the memory or maybe with confusion. It seems like if he’d really come here so often, and had even seen you here, you’d have noticed. “You must have thought I was weird,” you say, the words coming out around a shiver.

“Maybe,” he says through a wry smile that’s cracked over his lips. “But mostly, I just wished I could talk to you.”

He’d watched you, because he couldn’t approach you? You were under the impression that the prince had never cared for the rules, not even one so paramount as that. But, it seems that his brashness came to him later. He stands in front of you now, doesn’t he? Maybe it was just that innocent trust that, as children, you levy out to those arounds you. Especially toward adults; and all of those had preached over moments like this. You imagine a young, curious Beomgyu, hiding himself away between bushes, itching to approach or play with you. But he never did; you hadn’t the slightest clue he’d even been there until now. Could you two have been friends, if not for the curse?

“You never came out,” you say. “Or introduced yourself?” It’s all you can really think.

His mouth twitches. “Would you have stayed?”

No. Then, you don’t think you would’ve. Even now, you’re stricken with the innate fear of touching him, no matter how surprised you are at how different he is. Different from what they said he’d be. You think you would’ve darted, should you have known who he was. For some reason, that makes your heart ache. A dark ebbing wave of ache that you are unfamiliar with.

A slight knowing smile danced over his features, eyes gone to sweet crescents that turn them, usually so dark, into something rounded. Not so abrasive. He tilts his head off to one side and says, “You’re freezing. How long have you been out here?”

Cheeks long been numb, you answer, “An hour. Maybe and a half?”

“I’ll walk you home.”

You grimace. Arriving with him by your side, the man you quite literally were not supposed to even speak with, is the very last thing you should do. An awful idea. “I wouldn’t bother you. It’s probably not the best idea to show up after disappearing, with a man by my side. Especially not as a to-be-married woman,” you say. “But, thank you. Really.”

He knows what you really mean, though. A muscle in his jaw feathers. “Alright,” he says. “I suppose we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

As he begins to turn, making for wherever he’d come here from, you call out to him. “Hey, wait. Your jacket.” You pull it off your shoulders and joust it out at him. Against your skin which it had warmed, the air is bitterly cold.

“Keep it, princess,” he says, giving you a parting nod. “Get home warm.”

❆

Today, you are to give your hand to a man that you do not know.

In the air, the rich nuttiness of fire-toasted chestnuts dance and mingle with the roar of chatter. Hundreds of familiar and unfamiliar faces line long tables with runners decorated by platters of plump, sugar-dusted plums and fruit pies. They’ve all come in their winter’s best—whites and reds and luxurious furs lining thick, velvety fabrics or embroidered with sparkling threads and studded with crystals that twinkle in the low firelight. It’s warm and lovely and all just for you.

But, you don’t feel any of that. All you feel is a heavy belly. Each smile you tug over your mouth feels like dead weight. You’re familiar with this—putting on the act. Smiling in faces that you know will turn around and have something else to say about you, pretending like you don’t know that it’s all false sweetness. You’d been trained in noble propriety since you could walk and talk.

But, considering that they’ve all come here to shower you with gifts and lovely words for a marriage in which they could really not care about beyond how they make it a profit, it’s all a bit more sour.

You’ve met your promised. The man you’re supposed to wed and spend the entirety of your life beside. You spoke with him for... what, two minutes? Two very awkward, very awful minutes. What should you have to say to each other? You’re meeting for the first time today. At your engagement feast. It’s a real conscious effort to not take your lip into your mouth and gnaw, or to not fuss over your hair, or honestly anything that might show these people that you are anything but pleased.

So, you relent to their gaudy pleasantries. You listen to them tell you that it’s such a blessing to be married to a man of high society—and a wealthy one, too. They tell you that they knew your marriage would bring a great dowry; that all the white swans have. That they were watching and expecting it. All you hear is the dripping of greed; all you see is hungry eyes and fingers crossed behind backs.

You relent to it until your stomach is sick and wrought with it. And then, the older lady ahead of you singing praises of your beauty, of how she wishes her daughter might catch the eye of a husband as advantageous as yours, does something out of the ordinary. Her eyes drift behind you, her snooty, pinched features twisting up into something new. You follow her gaze.

Dark and beautiful and his eyes trained right on you, the black swan prince stands beside you. He’s lazed, a heavy cup of some thick, spiced and wintery drink in one hand, as he does. In the clear light of morning, he’d looked so out of place. But here, soft and hard planes of his face illustrated by the flickering orange firelight, he looks so right.

You blink. And then blink again. Never once had Beomgyu made any sort of appearance at any hosted thing by your family. You just stand in place for a moment, registering his presence.

“You look lovely, princess,” he says. His eyes fall up and down you. The way he says it—it’s liquid smooth, but it’s taunting in a way. “The perfect image of a bride-to-be.”

He can’t be here. He can’t be here at all. When you look to the side, the woman is already gone. You have no doubt in your mind that she’s whispering in somebody’s ear right now.

“Prince,” you say, gritting your teeth while also dipping into an elegant curtsy.

“Do you feel that way?” He raises his eyebrows at you, his gaze heavy with underlying tension. “A perfect bride? Happy?”

Making the conscious decision to not look around you, because you can already feel the burning interest of the eyes that you’ll find on you, you say, “I do. Isn’t this quite the feast?”

“I told you that you don’t have to lie to me, princess.”

You shouldn’t even be standing here talking to him. They’re all watching. Stepping back to cut conversation with something witty, you stop in the onslaught of a chorus of surrounding gasps.

Beomgyu had reached out to grab you, and only stopped himself short the same way he had the first time you met him. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he brings his hand down, curling the fingers as if to wash away the urge to reach out.

He’s closer now, too. His breath smells sickly sweet with the liqueur he drinks. A sarcastic grin over his lips, he says, “Did he pay for all this?”

You do a dance of give and take. You step back, and he meets it with a step toward you, all the way until you find yourselves in a quieter corner. “He did sponsor the feast, yes.”

“Well, isn’t that just great,” he says, voice carrying over the many layered sounds of the gathering. “And that makes you happy? You feel fulfilled by that? Is that the purpose of the lovely white swan?”

You’re not sure what he’s getting at, or why your marriage is any of his business. For some reason, though, despite those rational thoughts, some faraway memory whispers that it makes every bit of sense. “He is a lovely man.”

Barking a laugh, Beomgyu says, “Don’t make me laugh. You don’t believe that, no matter how many times you tell it to yourself.”

You curl your fingers into the obnoxious, glittering material of your dress. “Seriously, what makes you so sure?” you say. “What makes you so sure you know? This is good for me. This is the way things are supposed to go. Not everybody in this world can get away with serving only themselves and doing whatever they want. Maybe it works for you, but not for the rest of us. I’m glad your life is fun, though. Really.”

His face doesn’t sharpen into offence, though you brace for him to. You’ve never spoken to anybody like that. Ever. Shaking his head, raven locks glowing warm around the edges, he says, “Because I know. I know. Are you listening to me? You don’t have to lie to me.”

Balking at him, you don’t know how to answer. That was nowhere near the answer you were expecting from the prince, known and notorious for his chaos and fire.

“I am listening,” you say, keeping your voice measured. Thick emotion slips through the seams. “Honesty has never done me any good. This is going to happen; all honesty is going to do is hurt me. So, I’m sorry.”

His mouth opens to fire something back, but you don’t hear it. Somebody digs their fingers into your upper arm, dragging you without a word away from your conversation. You stumble, letting them take you without a fuss. This was to be expected. You shouldn’t look back. If today was already going to be the last day you ever see him, it certainly is now that you’ve been caught not only in touching distance to him, but making conversation with him.

Tossing a self-betraying glace over your shoulder, you find his figure. Hand in pocket and his lips turned down, he watches you go.

You wish you wouldn’t have. You have no explanation for the emptiness it casts into your chest.

❆

Recently, you’ve been crying so much. You might believe that it’s because you’ve been letting yourself feel freely, but you don’t feel free.

Your palms are soaked against your cheeks, face fallen into them as you shudder with it. Their words pin and scrape in your head, forcing you to contend with them before bouncing off the walls and you hear them again and again until your stomach has gone sick. Your parents had given you an earful. That’s been your whole life; you can handle that. The moment you saw him there, intending to speak to you, you’d prepared for it. Instead, it was their contempt and sneering faces that bleed your heart like this.

In this life, you are alone. Totally, wholly alone. Who you are—your role in life—is not the blessing they claim it to be. Is it selfish to ask to be understood? For somebody to just understand, without your pleading or begging?

Maybe. It feels that way, anyway.

“Why is it that I always find you crying?”

His voice freezes you to where you sit sprawled on your floor. Spinning to him, you say, “What are you doing?”

Beomgyu shrugs, as though he hasn’t snuck his way into your room. “I felt bad for getting you dragged off. Wanted to come see how you’re doing.”

Maybe his insisting on being around you should be annoying, but right now… You think you appreciate the company, even from the forbidden likes of him. “You can’t be here,” you hiss. “How did you get in? They’ll… if they find you here…”

His boots squeak against the polished flooring as he approaches you, and then settles down on the floor with you. The fire flickering behind him, his back to it, casts an orange light around the edges of his figure. He looks terribly inviting, like this: strewn on the floor, no holier or better than you, his face not sickly sweet nor cold and devoid of love, and his eyes curious to know how you feel.

“I don’t care what they’ll do to me. I want to see you.” He tugs his jacket off, letting it fall on the dirty floor. Improper for a prince, but Beomgyu doesn’t care. That’s who he’s always been—that’s the one thing that was entirely true out of all the things you heard about him. “Who the hell cares about their approval? We don’t need it.”

You know what he means by they and we. Only a few days ago, you’d still believed that Beomgyu was other; that he was your total opposite, and that you should fear his darkness for all your lightness. All it’s taken is being around him the once or twice that you’ve been able to for you to realize the falsity that drips from that. When you’re around him, your soul, feathery and wispy in your chest and your veins and all the rest of you that constitutes you beyond what is physical, tugs. It’s impossible to ignore—it consumes you. Where your soul longs for him around the edges, like torn and searching for what’s been lost, you feel stuff that is beyond yourself.

Rather than your opposite, you think that Beomgyu is your other half. You think that they’ve gotten it all wrong.

“How do you do it?” you say, back up against a white, whorling table leg. “How do you not care? I don’t understand.”

Inky eyes shining, he says, “I did. When I was young, I believed everything they told me. It’s hard not to, when it’s all you hear. Them, telling us that our purpose is to surrender ourselves to be something Saint-like. But when you catch one lie, you begin to catch the others, too. I saw their excuses and reasonings peel. Princess, it’s all lies. Everything you know is lies.” He says it with such conviction. Each and every word reaches down into that part of yourself that is missing something. “We’re not their Saints. That’s never been our purpose. I hate that shit; I hate that they’ve made you think that this is all you’re for. Marrying him? Never doing anything, because you’re scared of what it’ll mean for you? It’s not fucking fair.” He pushes himself closer to you. Now, your criss crossed knees are so close that a stray move might mean the world’s end. This time, you don’t panic. There’s no room for that among the swarm of your other thoughts. “So, of course I don’t give a shit about what they tell me to do. I’m going to live this life the way that it’s supposed to be. I wish that you could join me.”

“This life?” you blurt. It’s the one thought that appears clear to you, so it’s what comes out. Frowning, you add, “What lies?”

Deadpanned and as though he’s not delivering something that changes the world’s fabric around you, Beomgyu says, “There is no curse. There’s never been a curse.”

Your room is silent for a few moments, and then you shake your head and laugh. “How would you know that?” you say, nose wrinkling. If you don’t laugh, you’ll begin to actually consider the possibility of that. Just the very surface of the notion makes you nauseous. You couldn’t handle exploring the thought deeper.

Beomgyu doesn’t laugh along with you. “The curse is a lie, and everything that comes with it. All of it is just excuses or justification for the hate for the other people. The whole reason that they ever decided on it was because of their hate. Maybe to the people alive now, it’s not a lie. But that’s what it started as.” His face, dark and soft as he reads your face, twists up. “Of course, we can touch. We are two halves of a whole. There is you in me, and I in you. Do you not feel it? The tug? That’s it. The black swan and the white swan were never meant to be apart and opposite. We are meant to be together. We’re meant to be the only ones that understand each other. It’s us against the world, princess.”

Your ears ring with the pierce of each word cascading out from his mouth. “Beomgyu, I don’t understand. That doesn’t… Make sense. How?” He can’t just make claims about that. Not something like this. It’s not fair.

“I know it’s hard to believe, princess. It’s all you’re ever made to believe. But you have to trust me. Do you trust me?”

Tongue darting out to wet your lips and your fingers stilling where you fuss at the fabric of your chemise, you take a good look at him. Roaming over his features, the contradiction in them and the strange familiarity that constitutes him no matter the fact that you’ve only just met, you consider it. Everything he says is absurd, and it does go against everything you’ve ever known. You should turn your nose up at him for even suggesting it; should suspect that he only has some sort of plan to coax you into bringing the world’s end.

But, you do. You trust him beyond explanation, as though intrinsically.

You nod slowly, holding his eyes in yours. “But I don’t understand,” you say. “How do you know?”

He smiles ruefully. “I saw something—had a dream when I was young. I saw us, in every last lifetime. We have lived again and again, as we are, in so many different ways. But the one thing that was always there was that they couldn’t keep us away from each other.”

The world does a few spins around you. Lightheaded, you try to stay up under the oppressive gravity of that. You want to stick your head in the ground and shake your head and yell no, but that deep tugging that has plagued you beginning the moment you’d met him, and all the emptiness before it, tells you yes.

How poetic is that? How tragic? You, two souls born to be one, made to live apart at the interests of the world around you. Made to do it across every lifetime, and yet, in each you meet. In each, the twinkling thread of fate prevails nevertheless.

“Do they all love?”

That soft smile still playing on his lips, his cheek to his knee as he looks at you with the veneration of somebody who might’ve loved you in a thousand lifetimes before, and perhaps in this one, too. “No. Some of us were secret lovers, but so many of those lived how you do for the entirety of their life. Halved,” he says. “And never did any of them touch.”

Heart fluttering with wings in your chest, you say, “So, how do you know that the curse is a lie? If it’s never been done before?”

“Let me show you,” he says. “That I can touch you.”

All the blood in your body pulls back. You trust him; you do. But is trust enough to risk a touch that could be the end of the world? Is trust enough to be so selfish to do so?

Seeing you blanch, Beomgyu’s eyes go glassy. “Please,” he says, voice breaking as if to touch you might mean more than just proving something to you. As if the weight of everything he’s ever wanted rests on the back of it working—that if this works, and the world does not fall apart around you, then he can love you how he does, and how he had so many times before. Inevitably. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Beomgyu,” you say, looking between his eyes and the twitch of his hand as it itches to touch you. “I don’t… I’m scared.” Your voice drops to nothing more than a whisper.

“It’s okay,” he says, bringing that longing hand up. Your heart jumps when he raises up by your face. “You can be selfish this once. I want to see you do something because you want to, not because it’s what you think others might want.”

Your throat burns and tightens. Every last sparkling bit of your being longs to lean into his touch—to do what you two have wanted to do so many times before, and finally bring your souls back together. “What if it happens?” you ask, your eyes soft and true like an animal turning its soft underbelly to receive affection.

“Then let it,” he says. “At least we would have touched. Just this once.”

Gritting your teeth and swallowing hard, your belly does itself up into knots. You don’t answer him, but your quiet speaks enough. His hand hovers beside your face with the weight of the world in it.

The first touch of the white swan and the black swan happens in a gentle cupping of your cheek. And, the world does fall down around you. The walls melt, air leaves, and the seams of everything that’s even been good or true are ripped out and sewn with something new and beautiful. It’s as explosive and cosmic as you imagined it, but it is not terrifying. It’s lovely.

Your breaths shudder, your lungs trembling as you look into his eyes and realize what this means.

“Fuck,” is all Beomgyu breathes. It looks as though that it’s all he can manage. His touch grows more solid as the both of you realize that the both of you are still very much here, and so is the world. Thumb pad grazing over the softness of your cheek, his throat bobs with a swallow. You think that if you were to press your hand over your chest, you might feel it thudding there to the same thunderous rhythm that yours beats to.

So, you do. Because you can touch him. His heart sings beneath your palm, even through fabric and flesh. You can’t help the wobbling of your lip and the hot tears that spill out past your eyes and roll down your cheeks.

The second touching is the bringing together of your lips. His mouth is soft and hard against yours, contradictory as the rest of him. He brings his other hand up to hold your face into his kiss. It’s not sweet and slow—it’s as ground-rumbling as the kiss between intertwined souls coming together after an eternity of being away. Each nip and lick and clash of teeth are like the claps of thunder of the storm that will end the world, his hand sliding up the back of your neck to card his fingers through the hair at the back of your head like the claws of a beast sent to ensure its end.

And, maybe Beomgyu is the beast that has come to end the world. You wonder how he’d waited so long to bring the truth to you, or if he was torn about ever telling you. What changed things, after so many years of him watching you from afar? Your engagement? Perhaps that’s what that drink in his hand had been: a thing to forget with.

It hadn’t worked. As he kisses you for all the lifetimes in which you couldn’t, you know that he couldn’t have accepted that and moved on. Of all the black swans that have lived and passed, Beomgyu must be the most stubborn and strong-willed. That’s why, out of every single life, this is the first that you touch. He would take the world on, or play with the existence of it, for this. Just for you. All for you—you’d found somebody who will do something just for you. Curling your fingers into the front of his tunic just over his chest, you pour the fire of that revelation into your kiss.

He roams his hands all over you, mapping your shape. You kiss and kiss, lips tugging and twisting against each other, and still it isn’t enough. Bracing a splayed palm over your lower back, he does not stop kissing you even as he lays you back onto the ground. The flooring is cold against your burning body. He supports his weight on one hand beside your head and straddles your hips to do nothing but run his fingers through your hair and just kiss you.

Only when your lungs are too hungry to ignore does he free your mouth. His soft black hair dangles over his starry eyes as he looks down at you with them. Lips swollen and smeared with you, his chest heaves. Bringing his free hand up, he wipes your wet cheek.

“Oh my god,” you say, breathless. “Beomgyu.”

Pressing his forehead to yours, he laughs. “I like when you call me that. I think I want to make you scream it—scream it until they come breaking down your doors and see that we are each other's. Until your fiancé hears it.”

Body bursting at the seams at the prospect, you nod frantically and dip your face into his neck to dust starry kisses there, too. He shudders. “I want it so bad. Can you please?”

“Of course I can. I’m going to make love to you, okay?” He pushes off you, crawling back so that he’s sat squatted just before your knees as you pin them together. “Open your legs, princess. Show me how pretty you are—I’ve waited so long for it.” He pats on the outer side of your knee.

Thrill spiraling up from between your thighs like sparks, you oblige slowly. You let your legs fall open for him, and choke on your own heart as he begins to slowly work your dress up the expanse of your legs, and then your thighs, baring to him the plush and unseen skin there. He eats it up wildly, his eyes gone ravenous and even blacker.

“I’ve never done this before,” you say, voice trill and unsure. “I don’t know what to do.”

A wicked grin cracks over his features. “I know, princess.” The fabric bunches at your thighs, now. You tremble with the stifling anticipation. “I’m going to take care of you. It’s going to feel so good—I’m gonna make you feel so good. I have so many things I want to do to you. Lifetimes of things I want to make you feel.”

Doe-eyed and laying your trust in his hands, your thighs twitch and you nod. He reveals your cunt at last, finally catching the glistening sight of it for the very first time. And, he does not disappoint. The look that washes over his face—the twitching of his lips, the tightening of his jaw in a flickering muscle, and the fire razing your cunt in his eyes—is something so dreamlike, but lucid nonetheless.

“You just lay down and let me help you. Treat you how a princess should be treated.” He works on his pants, silver belt clinking and then loosening, and then he’s just as exposed as you when his length pops free. It’s hard already, tall and pretty like the rest of him, but pink and obscene at the tip. He leaks from the little slit at the top. “Look at you. You look like you want to taste it,” he says, laughing while collecting the liquid to pump himself a few times. “Next time, baby. I’d love to see the proper mouth of the world’s princess choking on my cock.”

The air is cold against the mess between your legs. It sends a chill up your spine—or maybe that was the crudeness of his words. You suppose you should’ve expected nothing less from him. When he goes to climb back over you and line himself up with you, your thighs twitch and try to snap shut.

He pins your hip to the floor. “Don’t be shy, baby. I wanna see that pretty pussy. It’s not fair to hide it from me.”

“Sorry,” you say, cheeks burning.

Taking that hand and sliding it up behind the back of one of your knees, pressing that thigh up to your torso, he laughs a teasing laugh down at you. “Don’t say sorry,” he says. He holds his length adjacent to your slit and then begins to slip up and down the length of it. “Just let me fuck you. I need it so bad.” He hisses in tandem with you. The drags of his length, harder than how you thought a cock might feel, is like undiluted liquor. “I can’t believe this… shit, princess. I’m about to fuck you. I thought I was going to have to sit here and watch you by his side.”

You take your lip into your teeth when he pushes in. It stretches. You bring your hand up to cup the back of his neck and the other to dig into his tunic, mewling softly.

“It’s okay, princess. Hold on to me, you can take it, right? You cunt was built for me. Everything about you was made for me. Your heart, your pretty hands for me to hold, your sex, all of it. Do you feel how I fit right into you? How I was made to?”

You do. When he finally is balls-deep, his cock nestles exactly where it should. Not an inch too deep or an inch too scarce. The two of you were sculpted by something holy, fit just for each other. “Yes,” you breathe.

He can’t even linger sitting still in you. He begins pulling himself out, all the way until the tip of him threatens to pop out lewdly, before shoving back in right up against that spot. He doesn’t even have to search for it. Head falling into your chest, he licks and bites. “The taste of you,” he says. Then, he presses his tall nose right over that spot in your neck where your heart’s gone wild. “The smell of you.” Wincing, he lays into you with more vigor, hips slapping against your skin. “The feel of you. You drive me up the fucking walls. How was I ever supposed to live without this?” he says. “I refuse.”

Your belly begins to tighten in a way that you’ve never known. Tears prick the corner of your ears, clinging to him as he fucks you into the floor like he’ll never have to opportunity to have you like this again. The wood cradles your back and the back of your hips, receiving each of his thrusts. You curl your toes and will back the lewd cries that threaten to spill over with each.

His voice is taut and wobbly. “Feels good, huh? I know. It feels… so good.” Dropping your thigh to cup your face, he says, “Cry. Cry for me. I said I wanted you to scream.”

Face burning and squirming against the hardwood behind you, you shake your head. “I can’t, gyu…”

“Yes you can,” he says, face twitching. “I want you to start letting it out, or I’m gonna stop. Do you want me to stop?”

Covering your face, with the back of a forearm, you grit your teeth through each punctual and yet sloppy grind up into you. Your bodies sweat and meld, and you’re sure that anybody walking by your quarters would know just by the hollow smacks of skin and grunts that you’re fucking a man. You, an engaged woman, are letting the prince turn your brain inside out.

But, there is nothing you want less than for him to stop. So, you let your mouth drop open and allow the sweet mewls to come with each rut.

“There we go. Louder.” He braces himself, digging his feet into the floor, and then he really starts driving into you. Sparks fly in your belly—each yellow and glowing and scalding. “Do I need to fuck you harder? C’mon, louder, princess.”

Thighs squeezing his hips so tight that they ache, you squirm. You struggle against your sounds—turning from sweet moans and mewls, you groan and gasp and your voice breaks. Each collision of your bodies breaks your sounds.

Curling your fingers into his silken hair, you grit out, “H—hoooh fuck, Beomgyu, Beomgyu, I feel… like…”

Bangs sticky and his eyes growing wilder, he knows something you don’t. The knowing, taunting grin on his mouth says enough. “Let it happen. Don’t fight it. Just stay—stay right there, and I’ll give it to you. No running from it; it’s gonna feel so good.” His muscles go taut, and he doubles down on his efforts, panting through his nose and his neck sheened. He drops his head into your chest. “Fuck. Fuckkkk, I love you so much, princess. Thank you—thank you, so much.”

You don’t know why he’s thanking you. You don’t have the cognitive function to worry about that. Your mind has gone to two things: the growls and whines that rumble and tear from his chest, and the frightening tightness that only goes more dangerous. Your chest tightens—it feels as though, if he feeds that hungry beast gnawing deep down in your belly with any more of what he’s doing now, it will snap and take you down in its wake. Warbled cries crawling up your throat, you arch your back up into his chest to try and dig your hips into the floor, away from the bliss and the power of it.

“No,” he says, cursing. “No—don’t run from it. Don’t… Baby, please take what I’m giving you. It’s gonna be alright.”

Pushing back on the dark throes of the tide as it creeps up over your shoulders and sends shocks through your body, the hair on the back of your neck rising with the effort, you choke. Beomgyu takes a hand down the seam of your bodies and rolls your aching clit. They’re succinct and intentional—pressure right on the sensitive underside, sending your belly rippling as he pairs it with a few more sharp, more meaningful thrusts.

You see white. It’s white and hot. You are the sun, beaming and writhing like stardust. You curve off the floor once more, raking nails down the lengths of his back. Are you even making sound? You don’t know; you can’t hear it past the ringing piercing sharp in your ears. You shake beneath him, cunt gripping him frantically with flutters of your walls.

He grunts, voice strained and shaking as he begins to follow his own release. “Holy shit—look at you. You’re so f-filthy. So pretty, cumming on me.”

You bare each brush of his cock against your still twisting walls, trembling as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your thighs jump and your toes curl, and it’s all too much, but not enough. He needs to come tumbling over the edge right along with you—if he comes with you, it doesn’t seem so hard. You chant his name, smooth voice gone hoarse.

Stilling inside you, he whines, “Shi—it.” A war wages behind his eyes for a long second before he slips his cock from you with a wet, squelching pop, strings of your release breaking as he lays his cock on your belly. His stomach goes tight, and with one last slide of his length, slick with your mess and staining your belly, his cock jumps. He shoots all over your skin, pretty glistening spurts like ribbons a milky white.

He sits back on his haunches, slowly rubbing himself off to give you some more and come down. Your room is quiet now, aside from your heaving chests and the buzz of something new in the air. Letting his head fall back, wet strands of spiky black hair dangle around his neck, a bead of sweat catching light as it rolls down it.

“Feel okay?” he says, looking down on you with softened eyes. He pulls cloth from his pocket, unfolding the fine fabric, and he wipes himself off your belly.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, leaning into the palm he cups your cheek with. “I’m okay.”

He smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “The world didn’t explode, did it?” he says.

You share a stolen laugh with him, feeling every last honey wave receding from the spot between your thighs. The world hadn’t ended, and yet, in every way, it had. Savoring the abated rises and falls of his chest and the content sagging of his shoulders, your belly tightens anew.

What happens now, when everything else has been a lie? When you don’t believe that you can survive that lie for any longer?

❆

So many hands work on you. One of your ladies in waiting laces you up in the back, and another works on your hair even while you stand, and one bounces a wintry, snow-kissed rouge over the plush of your cheeks.

Yesterday, your world changed. And today, you’re expected to go on living in it.

When Beomgyu slipped out from your room last night after hours of holding each other under the covers, indulging in your ability to touch, you let your heart crack in two. You shouldn’t have. Why had you let yourself think that it was going to end up anything other than like this? You, getting prettied up to be sent away with your expecting husband, and the dreams you’d let build up to the clouds in the prince’s arms all shattered on the floor at your feet.

What else can you do? Loving Beomgyu freely is out of the question. Your parents would laugh right in your face, or maybe lock you away and make even more sure that you never get to see him again.

You try to burn the image of his eyes into your memory. Black, big and round and cunning all the while. You commit the broadness of his shoulders, and the pretty straight line of his nose in profile, and the pink plushness of his lips, and the little freckles you’d discovered yesterday, and the sound of his voice in your ear, and the feel of his touch on your skin, too.

“We’ll leave you until it’s time to come collect you,” a Lady says, bowing at the waist to you as the others finish up, tying the fastening of your dress up quick and sprinkling their final touches over you before following her out.

Your room goes utterly quiet. More quiet than it’s ever felt.

Dragging your limbs over to your bed, you let yourself fall onto it despite all the care they’d taken to get your skirts right. Resting your cheek to your palm, you let your eyes fall closed as you memorize the feel of your own bed, too.

When you flutter them open, there’s something peeking out from the pillow across from you. You furrow your brows and reach for it.

The paper is folded up with haste, torn from the edge of somewhere else and scribbled on with a quick hand. How long has that been there, without you noticing? Pushing yourself up from the bed, careful to at least maintain the smoothness of your hair, you unfold it.

ℳ𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝓉 𝒮𝑤𝑎𝑛 ℒ𝑎𝑘𝑒.

Your soul comes back to life and seeps through your bloodstream. Sitting there for a few moments, idle at the largeness of what you’re about to do, you loose a breath.

And then, you curl your hand around it, shove yourself up in a flurry of white, crystalline skirts, and you go.

The curious faces of the palace hands you pass do not stop you, nor does the morning’s bite as you find your way outside, nor does the almost-slip over ice, and absolutely nothing else stops you as you run. Is he still going to be there when you make it?

God, please let him be there. Don’t let this be almost.

Fists full of the abrasive fabric of your skirts and darting by barren bushes and trees, you do not stop until you clear the little tree line and the lake stands vast and frosty ahead of you.

When Beomgyu spots you, and you spot his figure against the background of the lake crisp in the morning, the sweet cooing of the birds and the rest of the bustle falls away. None of it compares.

“You came,” he says, dragging his feet through the snow until he’s right in front of you, his features elegant once more in the clear morning haze. “I didn’t think you would.”

You reach up to dust away snowflakes resting on his hair. It’s an excuse to touch him—that’s all you find yourself wanting to do, now. Brows pinching, you say, “Why?”

“I don’t know. I just… was scared.”

“No, no, I came,” you say, feeling now the bare expanse of your arms. You run your hands up and down them. Heart in atrophy all the while feeling full just being here with him, you add, “Why did you want to meet here?”

The world is serene for a few long moments as he just looks at you, his gaze searching. “Don’t marry him. Don’t leave with him.”

You know where he’s going with this already. Letting your dress fall from your hands, the one they’d fashioned you in to do exactly that, you say, “And do what?”

“Be with me. Marry me. Be my wife,” he says, the lines of his face solemn. “Let’s elope and find a corner of the world that’s just ours, so that we will never have to hear another word from them again. Let’s just… be together. Finally.”

Chest swelling with something so hopeful that it’s painful, reality comes with its pin point and pop it. “Is that really what you want? You’ll take me, even though I’m promised to somebody else?”

His lip curls as though the thought were detestable. “What the fuck is a dowry to this? To the approval of the fates? The world could try snuff that fact out with whatever they’ll try, and a man could offer your parents a dowry of all its money, and still, you’d be mine. No matter what, our souls belong to each other.” His hand is frozen against your cheek. He’s been out here waiting for you for so long. “I’d take you, promised to another man. I’d take you no matter how you are; in a thousand different lives, I’d have you each time.”

That’s all you need to hear: that you are cherished for more than just your nature, but for yourself. That he loves you unendingly and undyingly, and all you have to do is leave by his side. You’ve already left it all behind—thrown any attachment to the wind, because truly, what is that to this? You don’t know where you’ll go, and you think Beomgyu hasn’t a clue either. But you’ll find that somewhere together.

Together, your half sings. His answers with a thrilling beat.

“This time,” he says, eyes blazing with conviction. You know he feels the tug, too. “We got it right.”

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✎୭ ashlynn's note MY SHAYLAAAAA. MY SHAYLAAAAAAA!

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#[ ✩ ] 𖥦 kipo’s fic recs .ᐟ #[ 𖦹 ] 𖥦 beomgyu .ᐟ #fairytales!!#the fact that they both have been going to the lake since kids and she never knew #him watching her the entire time and itching to speak to her but being too scared too because of their nature they were led to believe #art. absolute ART.#i love me a good forbidden lovers like it’s gonna hit EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.#i love that he opened her eyes to all the lies that they both have been told their entire lives #AND HIM COMING TO HER ENGAGEMENT PARTY DRUNK AND TAUNTING #needthat >>>#“i told you you don’t have to lie to me” YEAHHHHH #WASTELAND BABY PLAYING WHEN THEY FIRST TOUCHED AND KISSED #YEAHHHHH #i was literally on cloud 9 reading this like it’s SO GOOD #it’s heavenly #swan song… i love you so so much #the fact that it started playing when they decided to run away together and marry each other #the playlist was working overtime i love it #THIS WAS SO FUCKING GOOD LIKE HELLO???? SPARE TALENT PLEASE? PLEASE??????#like i need a masterclass or something IMMEDIATELY #black swan beomgyu i will love you forever and ever and ever #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu smut #beomgyu angst #txt beomgyu #txt x reader #txt smut #txt angst

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writerpeach · 23 hours ago

Text

The Naughty List

IVE Jang Wonyoung x An Yujin x m!reader

8500 words

Part 7 of IVED Vanilla Latte

The cafeteria is oddly barren at lunchtime. Christmas lights are everywhere, and all the clichés apply—decorated trees, stockings hung along the wall, tinsel wrapped around the columns. Holiday music plays over the speakers, but it's easy enough to tune out when you have the company of your roommates.

Wonyoung finishes up her pastry, taking one more sip of coffee as she wipes the corners of her lips with a napkin. Nearly satisfied, she pops open a compact mirror to check her face, and a faint touch-up of lip gloss finishes it off, lips plump and pink once she closes the little case and drops it in her purse.

"All set."

Yujin laughs in amusement, wondering how one person can spend so much effort on a quick touch-up, as if she'll simply melt if her appearance is nothing less than immaculate. It's not like Yujin doesn't have her own fastidious routine, especially with her makeup, but nobody takes it to such extreme measures like the tall beauty with pouty lips right across the table.

Wonyoung runs fingers through her hair while she stands up from the table to stretch, grabbing her purse and tightening the scarf wrapped around her slender neck. You follow their lead as they bundle up and toss their empty containers into the trash, Yujin still clutching the remainder of her drink, while Wonyoung drops an absurd amount of cash into the tip jar before the three of you make your exit.

Winter never seems to let up—snow covers the ground everywhere, leaving a crunch under your boot with every step. Not that it’s an issue when you have these two keeping you plenty warm.

Yujin is on your left, Wonyoung on your right, both with their arms hooked around yours, clinging possessively as they pull you closer, leaving your attention constantly torn between the two. But you couldn’t be happier, sandwiched in the middle—Yujin, with her thigh-high boots and that ridiculously short skirt, as if pants are a foreign concept; and Wonyoung, in her leather skirt and leggings combo that makes her look absolutely delectable.

It draws plenty of stares, of course, because why wouldn't it as you walk through campus, arm in arm, attracting attention in whatever direction the three of you pass. But it’s no concern really.

"So, daddy—" Wonyoung cuts the silence and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning in closer while also holding on a bit tighter. "Finals are done and Christmas is right around the corner. Any idea what you're gonna ask Santa for this year?"

It's cute hearing the innocence in her voice, and watching her eyes light up with curiosity. "Think I have everything I need right here. You two spoil me enough as it is."

Yujin giggles softly, fluttering her long lashes as she kisses your cheek. "Don’t think that’s possible. Still, I think we'll have the perfect gift waiting for you under the tree, daddy."

That could mean anything—which excites as much as it frightens you, but Yujin's devious smile gives little to no indication. Not even Wonyoung's telling expression gives much of an idea. But you're not left in your thoughts long, distracted when Yujin stops in her tracks, gathering up some snow with a bright look on her face and packing it into a little ball.

"W-wait," Wonyoung pauses momentarily, her whole body coming to an immediate halt, the realization sinking in when Yujin reveals the tiny snowball between her delicate fingertips. "Yujin, don't you dare—"

The throw isn't quite clean, only half connected as the snowball grazes Wonyoung's shoulder and falls short, yet Yujin's smile spreads, excited by the way it explodes. That's all the confirmation she needs to reach down and do it again.

"H-hey, no—d-don't even think—" Wonyoung's fumbling around while frantically trying to decide on how to react and whether to run, blocking herself behind you as a human shield.

"Hiding behind daddy? That's not very fair, princess."

"Neither is throwing fucking snowballs! I haven't gotten snow on me in years, I don't like being cold!"

"What, scared it'll ruin your five thousand dollar shoes?" A second snowball hits before Wonyoung can respond, the white snow spreading all over her little leather skirt.

You don't exactly have a say in any of this when Wonyoung takes you hostage, burying her face in your back while clinging to your waist, as if that offers protection against Yujin's clear intentions. Before you can get out any word of protest, Yujin lands a perfectly clean shot against the side of your face, laughing uncontrollably.

Wonyoung doesn't even give you a chance to defend yourself, climbing straight up on your back like her life depends on it, arms around your neck to cling tight.

"Daddy, get her!"

No chance to hesitate when you’re forced to carry Wonyoung’s weight without warning. And now you're really at a disadvantage with this girl on your back, hardly able to defend yourself when it comes to Yujin's next barrage of snowballs, taking each one directly in the face. Somehow, you manage to scoop up enough snow to throw a few yourself, one of them finally landing a hit when Yujin doubles back to take cover, giggling mischievously in triumph.

That's when you lower Wonyoung down onto the ground, needing an even playing field so you can get your payback. She's not exactly happy as anticipated, pouting the second her feet touch the snowy ground. That pout doesn’t linger, however, left alone, defenseless against Yujin's assault. Rather quickly, it devolves to scrambling to the nearest cover behind one of the benches when she realizes there's no more safety net.

And then it's a warzone—snowballs gathered up and launched at Yujin without yield, while you try desperately to block the return fire.

Yujin's much more athletic and quicker on her feet, dodging almost effortlessly, her long legs allowing her to find cover so easily. You've taken more than your share of snowballs, most to the face, meanwhile, Wonyoung isn't even trying, just cowering behind the bench and waiting for this storm to pass.

You abandon your current position for a better vantage point, and then there's this same thought clicking at the same moment when you fire a direct shot toward Yujin's tight ass as she passes between some trees. It explodes beautifully and catches her so off guard, and then you're locking eyes, in unison, with the same devilish intentions in mind, an unspoken alliance forming. And there's no better target in sight—

Yujin darts towards the direction of Wonyoung, and you gather up the biggest snowball you can manage before putting the plan into motion—an ambush, taking each side to corner her before she has time to realize the trap. It's perfect execution, both snowballs finding their mark in succession, one hitting Wonyoung square in the face from behind, the other from the front by Yujin.

Wonyoung looks betrayed as she just stands there with a look of disbelief, cheeks flushed red from the cold while you block off any retreat, ensuring there’s nowhere to run to avoid what's coming.

And the only answer to this is, well, nothing, surprisingly—just Wonyoung standing in place, snowball after snowball raining down from each direction to that beautiful visage, enduring it while frozen like a statue, silent and unsure how to react to this sudden double-team.

So much for that touch-up earlier.

"Daddy, you jerk! You can't—" Wonyoung cries out, with this cute little stomp as she shields her face with her arms. You can't stop laughing and neither can Yujin as the assault continues, with an endless supply of ammo at the ready.

But you know that look, the silent fury hidden behind her pouting facade, the way her gaze stays fixated. Wonyoung has never been one to handle defeat too well. Never been one to take anything lying down. Left with no other option but to launch herself at you, she tackles you into the soft snow as you fall flat, completely unprepared to have her entire weight collapse on you.

That fury ignites, Wonyoung grabbing handfuls of snow, not even bothering to form a ball as she throws it, pelting your face. She doesn't let up one bit, almost cackling while she keeps you pinned down with an unreal amount of strength for such a small frame, finding satisfaction from each handful thrown.

"I can't believe you both turned on me," Wonyoung says with a frown, gathering up a fresh handful of snow that you block in self-defense.

"Come on, princess," Yujin says in the distance, joining in now that the danger's passed, collapsing down next to the both of you in the snow. "There are no rules when it comes to snowball fights. And our bratty little princess is such an easy target."

Wonyoung can’t help but sulk as Yujin helps brush some of the snow from her hair—and just like that, it becomes an unfair team-up, the two of them pinning you down, completely outnumbered. But there's no more powder being tossed, only kisses landing on your cheek while you three share this respite in the snow.

"Princess looks good covered in snow, don't you think, daddy?"

Almost forgetting her previous frustration, Wonyoung sighs, kissing your nose as that pout remains. "I look good covered in a lot of things, especially white."

Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous, and Yujin can only smile when Wonyoung leans over to lock lips, the pair falling back into an eager kiss that's all tongue and wandering hands.

"We should get daddy somewhere warm before he catches a cold," Yujin suggests between these wet kisses and cute giggles. Given how much snow you’re surrounded by, you can't disagree, although you're sure if either one decided to have their way with you right then and there, you'd hardly fight it. "No better time to use the hot tub, don't you think, princess?"

Wonyoung pauses, stopping midway with her lips inches from Yujin. "Hot tub and daddy's cock, that sounds perfect."

You’re more than ready to follow anywhere as they hoist you out of the snow, eager to get out of the cold and get warmed up.

❄ ❄

Wonyoung is the first to drop into the warm, bubbling water, exchanging snow-covered clothes for a tiny red string bikini that leaves so little to the imagination. The hot tub feels heavenly in the cold when you lower in after, watching the way she leans back against the tub while pulling her hair free from a messy bun. Those dark locks cascade freely over her shoulders, head tilted back in relaxation as the water bubbles around her.

"Mm, this feels amazing," Wonyoung murmurs, eyes fluttering as she submerges a bit deeper. You can’t disagree one bit, how this covered little patio gives a great view of campus while shielding from the cold that continues to fall, surrounded by hedges and a tall wooden fence—a secluded oasis of perfect privacy.

That's Yujin's cue—the sliding glass door opens when she arrives, not empty-handed either as she holds up a bottle of wine and three glasses. Her bikini is equally stunning, a bold black piece that is far from modest. Her curvy hips fill the fabric so well that it barely conceals anything—not her incredible thighs, nor that wonderfully full ass of hers.

"Brought a little Christmas present," Yujin says, smiling as she makes her way across the wooden deck, giving you plenty of time to admire her sinful body before she slips into the bubbling water to take the spot beside Wonyoung.

It's all so surreal, spending a snowy, cold Christmas Eve in this hot tub, sitting back in the water, right across from heaven itself. Yujin's staring with that gleam in her eye, smiling so suggestively while pouring a rather generous amount of wine, holding out each glass for you to take.

With a generous sip, Wonyoung's glossy lips stain the rim a pretty pink, nearly draining the contents before setting it down. Yujin does the same, although she's much more reserved, swirling the rich, red liquid around the glass before indulging in a taste of her own.

You’re not even going to attempt not to stare, eyeing both girls shamelessly—how Wonyoung's bikini top looks like a nuisance, the thin strings almost begging to be ripped right off, Yujin equally so.

Wine downed, all it takes is one little look between Yujin and Wonyoung before a silent plan forms into motion. Yujin takes another sip of wine and gazes longingly, bringing the sole of her foot against your bulge, teasing you as she curls her toes, stroking up and down again until you throb.

"Daddy's a little excited to see our new bikinis," Yujin murmurs with her glass poised beneath her lips, taking another drink, never breaking eye contact. "Isn't that right?"

"I think we're more excited to take them off for him," Wonyoung adds, taking the glass from Yujin to gulp the rest of the wine as she joins in the teasing, and together, the two of them stroke the outline of your swelling cock through your swimming trunks. You groan out almost involuntarily, already feeling that need building as your shaft continues to strain against the fabric, growing harder with every second they toy with you.

"So hard for us already," Yujin giggles, keeping the attention on your cock with her toes rubbing at the tip and slowly downward again, drinking more wine while she strokes you.

Their toes tease and toy with you, as if your trunks aren't a barrier, managing to work you up—not even removing the offending item of clothing, just having their fun beneath the surface of the hot water while you try your hardest not to moan too desperately.

"Let us take care of you, daddy…let us milk every last drop out,” Wonyoung says, almost pleading.

Wonyoung licks her glossy lips, her toes squeezing tight, the head of your cock nestled between her big toe and next, massaging you nice and slow. With you throbbing with need, it's only a moment later the pair waste no time in yanking your swim trunks down, throwing the soaked article out of the hot tub and leaving you completely exposed.

You couldn't hope for anything better when Wonyoung scoots in closer and together with Yujin you're treated to this double-team, as they stroke in unison—fingers interlocked and tight, squeezing and twisting around your cock together in an all too familiar, synchronized fashion.

"F-fuck—god, that feels so fucking good," you gasp, tilting your head back in pleasure, every motion those delicate fingers make along your cock so calculated, every stroke and squeeze just right. You can't hold back your pleasure—your body's all too responsive to their teasing, helpless against the pair working in tandem, up and down your swollen length, making you throb so intensely with every little movement their slender fingers make.

All you can really do is give yourself a little distraction, untying the strings to Wonyoung's bikini free while she leans over and dips her tongue into your mouth, doing the same for Yujin next.

Tossing aside each discarded article of wet clothing, the bikinis get lost beneath the churning, bubbly water as your hands wander all along their perfect bodies, feeling their smooth, soft skin, gliding across each tight tummy, up to those perfect tits that you squeeze at, their nipples so stiff when you roll them beneath your thumbs.

"Like that, daddy? When we stroke your cock like this?" Yujin purrs, like the groans you let out aren't enough of an answer, your hands playing with their tits just as greedily while the pressure builds between your legs. “We weren't kidding, we really are going to milk you. So just relax.”

Not like you could do anything but that if you tried.

Yujin leans closer in and smiles, dragging her tongue along your neck, planting slow kisses. And maybe they're taking their sweet time to show off their skill—how Yujin uses her thumb to smear precum along the tip of your cockhead, how Wonyoung plays with your balls, cupping them in her hands and squeezing gently to feel their fullness.

"All we want for Christmas is to make you feel good, daddy. To make you cum as much as you want," Yujin says so seductively, kissing down your jawline until she nuzzles into your neck and teases over one of your nipples. "Let us spoil you even more than usual."

So hard to concentrate with all this bliss, and yet it's nearly impossible to not give in, knowing these two girls won't stop until there isn't anything left in your balls. They switch it up at a moment’s notice, Wonyoung working your shaft with her masterful fingers, Yujin preoccupied teasing your sensitive balls, drawing patterns with the tips of her painted fingernails. You’re just doing as instructed, sitting back and relaxing while they touch and tease you, finding new ways to drag every hint of pleasure out of your body.

"This is my favorite part," Wonyoung muses. Her gaze is fixated entirely on your face as her hand works magic around the base of your cock, letting Yujin focus on your swollen cockhead, stroking fervently, so focused on bringing you as much ecstasy as possible, pumping without relent.

"Princess," Yujin shifts around in the water, giving your balls a heavy squeeze that rips a moan from your throat. "Every part's your favorite."

"Yeah, and? Not my fault this cock is perfect in every way. Maybe I like seeing the way daddy's face is whenever he's about to explode..."

Every word from these girls' mouths only winds you up more and more, when their lips stay latched on your neck, where their teeth tease and kiss the sensitive skin. How Wonyoung gets such a tight grip with every twist of her wrist along your throbbing cock and never lets go, how they start alternating between themselves who takes over stroking and fondling your balls, working together, sometimes both hands on your shaft, sometimes playing with your balls.

You're every bit helpless, drowning in all the lust, cock throbbing with anticipation, ready to erupt all over those eager fingers, desperate to let go, to pump out everything you have stored in your heavy balls. And these two only seem to speed up when you're clearly ready to burst—Wonyoung working you faster than ever, hand pumping furiously while Yujin gets a nice handful of your balls, just fondling away with a few tugs here and there.

"Think daddy's almost there," Yujin says so matter-of-factly with this smugness in her voice and you know she’s not wrong—

You're reaching the edge and the feeling grows stronger by the second, not even thinking straight anymore. Every breath comes out shaky and frantic as you feel every little sensation, arms spread out along the ledge of the tub, biting your bottom lip to muffle a moan that doesn't quite work.

"Daddy's gonna make such a huge mess. A big, thick load for us, right?”

Those fingers from Wonyoung only move faster, hitting every single sweet spot on your shaft, and that's enough when Yujin cups your balls tight, working wonders and there's that edge right there, the sensation overflowing, your balls tightening, muscles tensed as you can no longer hold anything back—

"Shit, I-I'm gonna fucking—"

"Cum for us, daddy," they both whisper sweetly in unison, urging your orgasm out with their pleading stares. Then you’re groaning impossibly loud with their lips on either side of your neck, and finally blow your load when Yujin gives a squeeze to your balls just the right way—streams of hot white shooting under the water's surface from your throbbing cock as the relief hits all too fast.

They make good on their promise to milk your release all out, Wonyoung squeezing your cockhead tight, thumb right there at the underside to make every shot feel better than the last, sticky and plentiful and all theirs. Meanwhile, Yujin's hot breath lingers in your ear the whole time, nibbling on your earlobe with this firm squeeze on your balls that seems to draw the rest out.

It's that moment of pure, utter euphoria that lasts longer than you're used to—thrusting your hips out of reflex, pumping out thick, creamy spurts all over their fingers, the duo draining your heavy balls and you think it might never end.

"There's so fucking much," Wonyoung murmurs with glee, like she’s surprised when she’s mutually responsible for this release. Her fingers just keep milking your cock alongside Yujin, intent on dragging out every last drop your body can possibly offer.

Even afterward, long after you've shot all the cum they can drain from you, there’s still a hand on your cock, one on your balls, both insistent on working every bit out they can as if you haven't let out enough.

Between their soft hands on your sensitive cock and the bubbling jets of the hot tub, it’s more intoxicating than that expensive wine Yujin brought—they haven't gotten tired of jerking you off just yet, the water obscuring much of their activity below like they’re seeing whose name you'll groan more.

"Daddy always sounds so sexy when we make him cum," Yujin says all sultry in tone, dragging a single finger from your base, up and over that spot near the underside of your tip and keeping it there—rolling the pad of her fingertip in circles over the area where your cock seems most sensitive. “Hearing you let go... that's my favorite thing."

Before you can even catch a breath, Yujin is tilting your face towards hers, hungry lips crashing against yours, lost in this moment together, tasting the wine on her breath.

And almost on cue, they let go of your cock and rise out of the water in unison, hopping onto the wooden deck with their dripping wet bodies. Your gaze travels all over, unable to make up your mind where to look—the way droplets trickle down Yujin's wet chest and over those pretty nipples so stiff as the frigid air caresses her skin. Or the way Wonyoung looks with that mess of wet hair cascading down over her shoulders, water clinging to her bare back and those supple ass cheeks her bikini bottom couldn't even hope to contain.

Topless and soaking wet, the image is seared into your mind, and they don't bother putting anything on after drying off, not even bothered how the cold stings their naked flesh, and god, are you already aching to go again.

When you step out and head back inside, there's a lingering pause—Yujin's the last one in before sliding the glass door shut, wrapping her arms around your chest from behind as she locks you into place. "We have one more present for you, daddy—right, princess?”

Her breath feels so hot, leaning against your body as her naked breasts press against your back. Wonyoung takes a sip of wine straight from the bottle before she puts it down on the kitchen counter. "Something like that."

You can't ignore the mischievous smile they share as they head towards the stairwell in nothing but skimpy bikini bottoms. That look can't mean anything good—Wonyoung stays leaning on the banister, letting your eyes wander along her endless legs as she places a pretty pedicured foot on the second step.

The pose is intentional, allowing you to glimpse how tight and shapely that ass of hers is, how delicious her long legs look with that perfect figure accentuated in a red bikini, only making your cock pulse with need.

"How about you head upstairs in ten minutes, daddy?" Yujin suggests, untying a loose knot with her black bikini, the fabric loosening until it slips off her wide, curvy hips, falling on the floor as she starts descending the stairs. Now naked from head to toe, she takes her time up the stairs, enjoying your shameless ogling.

No doubt she’s fully aware of how your eyes are glued to her every move, drawn to those sinful curves—from her bouncy, thick thighs to that irresistibly tempting ass that follows suit. Every inch of Yujin is a masterpiece put on display, all to make your cock throb harder with anticipation, bouncing her hair freely behind her shoulders, hips swaying all too hypnotically.

Wonyoung mirrors those movements, throwing her bikini bottoms at you to catch, and the sight of each of them standing there naked, climbing up the steps right in front of you is too much temptation to take.

Ten minutes is going to seem like an eternity.

❄ ❄

The time goes by painfully slow. All that waiting, each minute taking longer than the last when you dip into the wine for something to occupy the time with. Who knows what these two are up to—

Hardly able to contain your eagerness any longer, you climb the steps after the promised ten minutes. Yujin's waiting right there in the doorway, standing completely naked and confident as ever with a devious look in her eye when you arrive.

"Took you long enough," she teases, grabbing your hand and leading the way inside the dark bedroom as she flicks the light switch on, illuminating the room with a soft glow. "Hope you're ready for your Christmas gift, daddy."

What Yujin steps aside to reveal is more than just a gift—Wonyoung all naked, tied up in your bed, and looking oh so vulnerable with her long arms above her head, slender wrists secured tight with red ribbons. The same treatment can be said for the rest of her delectable body, pale tits covered up in these festive ribbons all around that lead down to her flat stomach, so perfectly intricate and meticulously wrapped around her whole upper body. And the pattern doesn't end there, going even further, wrapping around those luscious legs of hers, bound together from her thighs down to her ankles, leaving her completely helpless and unable to move an inch.

Of all the things you expected this gift to be, this definitely wasn't on your radar—how all that red contrasts so perfectly against that milky white skin, a large bow right between her thighs covering just enough to tease.

"Our little Christmas present. This pretty little slut all tied up just for daddy to unwrap," Yujin says, doing an exceptional job presenting Wonyoung. “Ready for daddy's big cock."

Your present has such a desperate look in her eyes, pretending to struggle with her restraints, the feel of ribbons on her naked body adding so much extra sensation. All for show, no doubt, because if there's anything Wonyoung loves more than being a brat, it's this—getting tied up and manhandled to your liking.

"All yours, daddy." Yujin's voice has taken on this all too familiar sultry tone, smooth and breathy, practically an invitation on its own. "Have her any way you like. Use her like the good little fucktoy she is.”

"Don't think I could ask for a better present.”

That’s all you can manage to get out before Yujin dives into your lips with a rough kiss, tongue instantly invading your mouth, and Wonyoung can only stare helplessly from the bed while you devour one another. There's that greedy side Yujin lets out, nails digging into your skull as the kiss turns into something rougher, desperate, sloppy with saliva spilling down her lips and she shoves her tongue in further, getting a firm grip on your cock in the process.

"P-please, daddy, need your cock—need it to ruin me so fucking bad. Want you to pound me like a fucking whore, daddy..."

Yujin gives a few full strokes to your cock that’s more than a little hard now, keeping you locked into the kiss while you moan into her mouth. "She's a little needy. Shoved a vibe in her while I was tying her up she's so fucking worked up for you. Made sure that pretty cunt got all nice and soaking wet.”

"So thoughtful of you,” you say, stroking the back of Yujin's head as you gaze intently at Wonyoung on the bed, whimpering so pathetically as those bound thighs squeeze together, desperate for any friction.

"But before you do anything, daddy—let me warm your cock up just a little first. Our hungry little slut can wait a bit longer."

You don't even need to look over to know there's a pout forming when Yujin drops to her knees. Then there’s that warm fucking mouth sinking down, lips wrapped around your cock, sucking with such fervor from the very start. You can't help but groan deeply and Wonyoung has no choice but to watch from her helpless position.

All that warm saliva soaks every inch, like she can't get enough of your cock. Those soft lips glide along your length while Yujin bobs her head up and down—every motion filled with need, staring straight at you until she hits the base.

"Shit, fucking hell, Yujin—" you mutter in amazement, because no matter how many times she gives these sloppy wet blowjobs, you can never quite get over how incredible that mouth is. How talented, how experienced she is at using every single tool in her arsenal, hands gripping tightly on your thighs to get every single inch down her throat, absolutely covered in messy warm saliva.

Yujin doesn't even gag, slurping on your shaft and hollowing her cheeks, swallowing every last inch down until her lips press tight to your base, holding there as long as possible—

All that follows is a loud, lewd pop as Yujin withdraws entirely, lips now latched onto your heavy balls, giving them such a good slurp while stroking your cock that’s absolutely soaked with spit along the whole length. She makes such exaggerated slurps with those full lips around your sensitive sack, lips locked tight, humming deeply while keeping you in that intense gaze. The way she works your balls over with her tongue, rolling them so slowly, trapping them into her hot mouth has you raring to go.

"Mm, your balls are so full and delicious, daddy,” Yujin breathes out, with a line of drool spilling from those gorgeous lips. "I could suck on them all fucking day, but you've got a needy little brat to breed."

One look over at your gift, so tempting, tied up, and tantalizing, and you have to agree, especially when the only thing you want is to ruin that warm, wet little cunt. There's no denying the effort Yujin's put into such sloppy sucking, getting your cock slick and primed to pump out another full load by the time you're done with your gift.

You don’t need to do anything else but climb the bed, unsure where to even start when Wonyoung is all wrapped up, every inch of that pale skin so flawless, all but begging for your touch. "Look at you, princess. You look so pretty like this, don't you think? All tied up and just for me."

"Daddy, please—" is all Wonyoung manages to get out, her whining interrupted as you place a finger on her pouting lips.

"Don't you worry, princess. I'm gonna use my Christmas gift just the way you deserve," you say, and loosen the red bow right between Wonyoung's thighs, not a bit surprised to find her dripping. She’s exactly how Yujin promised, looking so deliciously inviting and wet, the perfect place to bury your cock inside. "Your pretty cunt is gonna look so good pumped full of cum once I’m done with you.”

"Yes daddy, make me your little cum dump. Use your gift and breed me until I'm leaking. I need you so bad..."

You decide to leave the ribbon around her tits for now, all that decorative red highlighting their shape, nipples no doubt just aching to be sucked and teased. The more your gaze lingers, the hungrier you become, taking a moment to enjoy the sight before you leave a trail of kisses all the way down.

And finally, when you've made your way to those bound-up thighs, you get a good grip on the ribbon with your teeth and tug. In one easy motion, you free that ribbon from those delicious legs and they spread apart on instinct—such a pretty sight to see that slick pussy just aching for your cock, perfectly wet and inviting.

"So fucking beautiful," you say, and poor Wonyoung can't even touch herself like this. She’s so willingly at your mercy and can’t even show off her wetness to you like she usually does—but you'll get a good view from where you are, feel exactly how soaking wet she is when you slide right in.

Reaching underneath, you get a good firm grip on her hips to pull her helpless body closer so you can tease her, sliding the head of your cock between those glistening lower lips. She’s all desperate when she groans, which only makes it more satisfying to watch her wriggle in these binds as you deny her the initial pleasure.

Before she can even open her mouth to complain, you're lifting her long, slender legs up in the air, resting them right on your shoulders, and getting a good look at where your cock is about to sink right in. Yujin appears right beside you then, kneeling on the bed, so very interested in witnessing you defiling this brat.

"Hope you don't mind me watching you fill our present, daddy," Yujin says sweetly, planting a soft kiss on your cheek before shifting attention onto Wonyoung.

"Not at all. Little slut loves an audience watching her get ruined. Isn't that right, princess?"

Wonyoung only manages to elicit a long whimper, face flushed a pretty shade of pink when your cock teases at her drenched entrance, a clear sign that yes, she does. Those legs rest nicely on your shoulders as you caress them, toes curling already from how close you are to being inside—and just like that, you give one pop of your hips, sinking deep, plunging the entirety of your length inside.

"Oh fuck, daddy!" she cries out as you fill her to the base with one rough thrust. "M-more, it's so good daddy, fill my pussy with your fucking cock, fill me so fucking good, ah—"

She’s so goddamn drenched that it’s impossible to do anything else. Her hot cunt swallows up your length right down to the very base as you bottom out with ease, impaling Wonyoung balls fucking deep without resistance.

“Shit, princess—love your cunt, love how tight you are,” you growl out, and nothing else feels better than the pure heat and wetness that comes along with being inside Wonyoung. It’s heavenly, how she clenches around every throbbing inch, once you're hilted deep, determined to never let you out of that hot, velvety grip.

"Your pretty little pussy loves daddy's cock, doesn't it? Creaming all over him the second he fills you right up," Yujin purrs, getting such a good view from her position, how your cock impales that dripping cunt with so little effort. The fact that you haven't even really begun, only a single slow series of strokes so far, and she's already a soaked mess, squirming all around in these restraints, what's left of the ribbons clinging tight to that smooth porcelain flesh.

All this warm, slippery flesh that hugs your cock—Wonyoung is so fucking tight that it’s maddening.

Despite getting railed good and often by the both of you, those velvety walls always clench up so impossibly tight around your shaft as it stretches her open, just like the first time.

"Can’t imagine how tight you’re squeezing his huge cock, making daddy feel so damn good—princess must be so desperate to empty his balls straight into your womb. Is that what you want, baby? A nice, big, thick creampie, filling up this greedy little pussy?"

The lewd, depraved things that leave Yujin's lips are more than enough encouragement to keep this momentum building, pumping your cock in and out of Wonyoung’s wet heat like you belong there, buried all the way inside while those pale legs dangle from your shoulders.

"F-fuck, daddy, feels so good when you fuck me, when you're balls deep, so fucking deep—just ruin me, ruin daddy's pretty little slut, please…”

So easy to oblige her when she’s begging like this, that you can’t help hugging those creamy long legs while you piston your hips at a merciless pace. So easy to see the desperation in her eyes, and the harder you move, the more erratic she gasps out while you ram your cock through all the wet flesh of her slick cunt, the sound of skin on skin echoing around the room.

“God, princess—you feel so incredible,” you groan, hips relentless as you plunge so deep. Somewhere along the way, Yujin slides up next to Wonyoung, encouraging that stream of pathetic noises, each sweet moan punctuating your harsh thrusts.

"Just listen to her, daddy. Listen how she enjoys that big fucking cock rearranging her guts—pretty little whore is about to cum any second now, isn't she?" Yujin asks, her fingers dancing across Wonyoung's chest, tracing the intricate details of the red ribbons clinging tightly to her smooth, silky skin. "Wanna give her what she wants? Get this slut all folded up and maybe she'll cum a little faster for you?"

Without a doubt, you know Wonyoung would love nothing more than that, your cock just plunging inside, pounding deep inside over and over again—

So you do exactly what Yujin suggests, pushing both legs forward towards her head, until her knees almost hit her shoulders. Then you've got her all folded in half, the perfect position to hit even deeper, putting those flexible limbs to good use, arms still helplessly tied together. “D-daddy!”

And that's when you give a rough slam back inside her dripping cunt, immediately having the intended effect when you bottom out so easily at such a different angle, your heavy balls slamming right up against her ass while you drive all those loud cries out of her mouth—

"D-daddy, fuck! So fucking deep, s-shit, you're gonna make me cum, oh please, g-gonna make me fucking cum!"

When her words devolve into desperate babbles, that's when you know you're doing something right. You’re driving every inch into her, leaving that cunt so impossibly slick when you pound into that flesh that grips without relent.

"There you go, daddy, keep fucking her like that. Use this pretty little fuckdoll until she's gushing all over your huge cock," Yujin encourages from beside, turning all her focus now onto Wonyoung as she leans right in to wrap a hand around that pale throat, squeezing firmly, and fuck—

Wonyoung just falls apart. Then she's just whimpering, every sound she tries to make barely audible when she's cumming on your cock, eyes rolling to the back of her head. There's nothing more beautiful, listening to her broken moans, how she's downright sobbing from the pleasure, letting you ruin her as she drenches your entire cock, that climax flooding out like a broken fucking faucet and threatening to shove you right out.

But instead, it just makes you pound into her that much harder, fucking her near delirious as she makes such a mess, gushing all over you while you keep pounding away until she's a shaking, trembling wreck.

"Look at our pretty present, cumming so fucking hard while you destroy that pussy," Yujin says, getting an even tighter grip around Wonyoung's neck, applying enough pressure to watch the girl's expression crumble. "That pussy is so good, isn't it? Wrapped around that big fucking cock of yours, must be so fucking desperate for your cum to be dumped inside.”

She’s not even a little wrong, that wetness covering your whole length, your balls completely slick from just how Wonyoung absolutely floods out, and you’re not far behind.

"Princess, fuck—“you groan, pounding away into that dripping heat, this filthy squelch coming from between her legs growing even louder the longer you plunge deep. “Gonna fucking fill you right up, gonna breed you, empty everything inside this pretty fucking cunt."

Wonyoung can't even form enough words to beg, hair matted all over her sweat-covered forehead, body going limp while you keep using her body like she’s built to be a toy. And then Yujin's suddenly there, right behind you, fingers cradling your balls so delicately while your cock pistons in and out of this heat—

"Can't wait to watch you breed this fucking cumslut. Want you to dump everything into her cunt, empty your balls, make her leak all of that thick creamy load everywhere," Yujin says, voice so sultry, hot breath all over you as those fingers squeeze so dangerously close.

Unsurprisingly, Yujin doesn't stop there, fingers stimulating all sorts of sensitive areas, like she can feel everything that needs to be drained, each firm squeeze causing a jolt through your entire body.

That hot breath moves away for only a fleeting moment, with Yujin abandoning her grasp on your balls while you keep those hips churning, sending a barrage of thrusts into that wet, hot vice of Wonyoung's pussy. And before you have time to miss Yujin’s touch, her tongue, slick and hot all at once starts teasing your ass, tongue prodding slowly and meticulously.

You can't even respond with anything but groans of appreciation, losing your train of thought each time Yujin gets her tongue buried so deep, taking such good care of you, urging you to blow your load inside Wonyoung.

And god—that mouth does wonders as Yujin toys around the rim of your ass, making all sorts of sinful noises behind you. Through these intense licks, her hand works up a firm massage for those cum-filled balls, and you don't know which does more damage, or if it's simply a combination of both that sends you over the edge—but you can't resist anymore.

"Breed me daddy, breed me so fucking full, need your hot fucking seed inside—p-please, please, cum in me. Want your hot fucking load in me, empty those huge fucking balls right in my little pussy, fuck, please please please—"

Hearing your helpless little gift so needy, pleading frantically for you to finish in her, mouth hanging open, with drool spilling down those red lips, that's what does you in.

One final slam, balls deep into her tight, needy little pussy, and you don't waste a second unloading it all—pumping the biggest load, so fucking thick and heavy straight into her cunt. Each shot is so powerful, Yujin's tongue back in play, pressed right up against your asshole, making you groan even more while the palm of her hand gently massages and rolls your swollen, heavy balls around, coaxing every last drop from them to empty you completely.

All that sticky warmth that empties endlessly into Wonyoung, painting the slick depths of her insides white—and it makes her squirt out even more, flooding all around your cum-coated length still buried deep inside as you fill her up, all the way to her womb.

You’ve already unloaded so much inside, fucking it deeper until it's overflowing back out. Only when Yujin pulls her tongue from your ass do your thrusts finally stop, an absolute deluge of hot, thick seed that she's delighted to see leak out of Wonyoung when you gradually pull out.

"Look at that," Yujin says with so much delight in her voice, getting an up-close view of the mess you've just made and having herself a taste. She laps it all right up with her eager tongue, slurping so loudly at the mix of your hot cum and that nectar from Wonyoung. “Dumped so fucking much into our little cumslut. Mm, fuck, that pussy must feel so full with daddy's hot load leaking out…”

Between the panting, the heavy breaths, chest still heaving, Wonyoung gives a small little nod while you rest at the side of the bed, cock still glistening with a complete mess of your cum and hers.

Yujin however, has all the energy in the world as she cleans up the aftermath, hands gripping so tightly onto Wonyoung’s milky thighs, face buried deep in between. She's every bit selfish, tongue dragging up to lick through those delicious cum-covered folds, so satisfied when she gathers up what leaks out.

"Daddy’s cum tastes so fucking good when it's been pumped inside this needy slut," Yujin says, getting back to work sucking up the remnants of your huge dripping load. She's so ravenous when it comes to cleaning Wonyoung up, taking another indulgent lick right down the center, chin nearly glazed already. "So fucking messy too.”

For her part, all Wonyoung does is moan and whine as Yujin gives a few slaps to that already sensitive cunt, and you’re just watching all the wetness transfer from Wonyoung's heat into that eager mouth, who devours it all so happily.

Were you not entirely exhausted, you'd be tempted to get right behind, slide into Yujin’s heavenly cunt, and empty whatever you have left into her next. Still might, but you're entirely useless at the moment, letting these two indulge themselves.

"Yujinnie—" Wonyoung whines, voice ragged from being thoroughly wrecked, but tone so very needy, as if begging for another release. And Yujin gets her lips sealed right on that engorged clit, giving exactly what Wonyoung desires.

"Doesn't look like our present's tired yet. Should we untie her so she can empty your balls again? Maybe have her take your cock deep into that perfect ass while I ride your face? Sounds fun, doesn't it, daddy?"

Nothing sounds better. Maybe you don't need a respite just yet after all.

❄ ❄

After round two (and then three and then four), a change of scenery is needed. So you all share a shower, change into comfy, festive pajamas, and head over to the spacious couch in the living room. The scent of pine permeates throughout the whole room, with this massive Christmas tree lit up with colorful lights the center of attention.

There's no better time to indulge in the holiday spirit, lazing about on the couch where you find yourself pleasantly trapped between Yujin and Wonyoung, cuddling up alongside you for warmth while some cheesy Christmas movie plays in the background.

The snow really starts coming down, heavier by the minute, enough that you'll be stuck inside—not that there's a reason to venture outdoors. Especially not when you have everything you could possibly want right here, hot cocoa, an excessive number of cookies, and the two prettiest girls on campus all over you.

"Merry Christmas, daddy," Yujin says seemingly out of nowhere, finding a nice spot to rest her head right upon your chest, playing with the pom-pom at the end of your hat. Not exactly what you pictured wearing for the entire night, but it's so impossible to say no to Yujin's requests, so you'll wear whatever she puts on you to keep that smile on her face.

"Merry Christmas, Yudolph.” You can hardly finish the sentence without laughing at that ridiculous headband, reindeer antlers looking so cute atop her pretty head.

"No fair, you can't just steal my nickname," Wonyoung complains from the other side, grabbing a cookie from the plate on the coffee table. She feeds you the first bite before shoving the rest into her mouth, so unprincess-like the way she scarfs the rest down.

"Why not, princess? What's yours is mine, anyway," Yujin replies, planting a kiss right on your cheek as proof. Wonyoung hardly stays mad, too caught up in eating another cookie before wiping the crumbs away from her mouth. She's almost embarrassed by the kiss that Yujin then plants on the corner of her lip, quickly flustered and so out of character, even though Yujin has never been shy to hide her affection.

"Daddy is all mine, so that means you are too, Yudolph," Wonyoung counters, planting a little kiss to both of your faces, getting cute giggles from Yujin in response.

"Wow, did our princess finally learn how to share?" you ask, poorly stifling a laugh.

"Don't count on it," Yujin says rather bluntly, still bouncing your pom-pom around with her fingers. "Anyway, it's almost midnight. What did Santa bring us tonight?"

"Hmm, what did he bring us, what's in these gifts?" Wonyoung asks so innocently, looking at the assortment of presents sitting near the tree, like there's more than just the three of you in this room. "A brand-new sexy set of lingerie and heels for Yujinnie? Maybe that leather catsuit you were talking about the other day..."

Yujin gets this little smirk on her face when she hears Wonyoung mention such a thought.

"And what about me?" Wonyoung continues. "I hope Santa brought me more outfits, I could use a new dress and lots of cute skirts to model for daddy—"

"I don't think the princess gets anything after being on the naughty list this year," you add, earning a very cute pout from Wonyoung.

"Isn't that every year for her?" Yujin asks, chuckling because she knows how true it is, not that being a brat never stops her from taking such pride in it.

"Hey, I deserve a nice present too, after all the times I'm on my knees. Santa better reward me well this year," Wonyoung says, whining so dramatically.

"Doesn't he reward you enough? Filling you up every time you sit on his lap?" Yujin asks, rather rhetorically, and this conversation might be the end of you.

"As if I could ever get enough of daddy pulling my hair and spanking my ass red. I'm on the top of the naughty list for a reason."

You have a very hard time not laughing at how utterly ridiculous and proud that statement is.

"Well, don't worry princess. We have something very special for you," Yujin reassures, giving her one more peck on the forehead. "So, wanna get Santa his gift? I think we've all been plenty naughty anyway,"

"Nuh-uh, I'm not moving an inch. Daddy's too warm and comfy for me to get up," Wonyoung says in protest, snuggling into the crook of your neck and wrapping her arms even tighter around your chest. Yujin can't exactly argue there, joining in to ensure you can't possibly move, trapping you so nicely between the both of them.

"Too warm and comfy," Yujin repeats, and you're more than content to never move from this spot ever again. It's the kind of warmth you never want to leave, especially not on a night as chilly as this one, the perfect excuse to spend hours cooped up by the fireplace together.

"Merry Christmas, daddy—" They both say in unison as the clock finally strikes midnight. "You're not going anywhere, we won't let you."

This is absolutely the best present you could ask for.

#ive smut #yujin smut #wonyoung smut #kpop smut #reader insert #male reader #annyeongz smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #christmas

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