#i'm not sure if I understood the assignment

[clumsydolly]

Hello, I recently found you, but I have been loving everything you have written! I was wondering if you could do Obey Me (+ datables too) x Leona Kingscholar! Reader, and maybe mention the sibling issues along with the inferiority complex. I’m sorry if it’s too much, feel free to ignore this!

Obey me! x Leona Kingscholar!Reader

Warnings!⚠️: Neglect, Feelings of insignificance, violence, blood, possible parental abuse. If there is anything I missed please let me know!

art credits to kura_usagi217 on twitter. Got the picture from himasagod

Thank you so much for the sweet words, love! I'm so happy people appreciate my work!

Lucifer

Lucifer noticed you the moment you walked into RAD not because you were loud or flashy, but because you weren’t.

There was something about the way you carried yourself. Regal without trying. Every movement slow, deliberate, like the world didn’t deserve your urgency. You didn’t talk unless you had something worth saying, and when you did speak? You could cleave through a room like a sword to the ego.

And Lucifer? Lucifer hated that he noticed.

Because you weren’t trying. You weren’t bending over backward to impress him like most of the student body. You weren’t one of those overeager exchange students begging for approval or praise. You strolled through the halls like a lion half-asleep, maybe, but still the apex predator in every room.

And when he finally spoke to you, you yawned in his face.

“Didn’t realize the great Lucifer was giving lectures today. I’d have brought a pillow.”

Lucifer’s eye twitched. He gave you detention on the spot.

You didn’t go.

He gave you another.

You still didn’t go.

By the third, he marched to your dorm himself only to find you lazily doing a puzzle that recreated ancient Diavolo-era battle formations by memory.

“You’re not unintelligent.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“Then why act like this?”

“Why not?”

He hated that you turned his questions around like that. Hated that you didn't fear him, not even a little. Most of all, he hated how much you reminded him of himself not the pristine, polished version he wore like armor now, but the raw, bitter version. The Lucifer who still wanted to scream I mattered too in a Heaven that only cared about Michael.

Over time, he started seeing it. The weight behind your smirk. The exhaustion behind every lazy sigh. The way your eyes narrowed just slightly when someone called you “second-best” or “surprisingly capable” like you weren’t already a storm waiting to happen.

He saw the way you flinched barely when someone mentioned Diavolo’s brilliance or the House of Lords your sibling had attended or how proud your family must be of you, clearly doing so well for yourself here at RAD.

And yet no matter how many times people overlooked you, compared you, spoke of you like you were someone else's shadow you never broke.

You just grinned. Tilted your head. And made sure they regretted it later.

Lucifer began to respect that.

Not openly, of course. That wasn’t his way.

But he started assigning you more difficult tasks subtly. He made you his liaison for particularly irritating noble houses, watched how you dismantled their arrogance with one well-timed smirk and a passive-aggressive cup of tea.

You didn’t brag. You didn’t preen. You just got results.

You weren’t the golden heir. You were the disaster plan. The unspoken “just in case” they called on when things went wrong and you always fixed them, like it was no big deal.

Lucifer understood exactly how much strength that took.

He caught you one night after a council meeting where Diavolo, with perfect warmth, had praised your instincts but still called you by the wrong last name. You said nothing. Just smiled, bowed, and left early.

Lucifer found you alone in the gardens afterward, sprawled across a bench with your eyes shut, jaw clenched, tail twitching.

“You handled yourself well,” he said.

“Yeah?” you muttered. “Guess I’m good at pretending I don’t care.”

He said nothing at first. Then quietly:

“You are not lesser for being second.”

You opened one eye. “Tell that to the guy who got the throne. And the respect. And the family name.”

“Tell that to the brother who took the fall for defiance and got eternal punishment in return.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him. And for the first time, you didn’t try to act cooler than you felt. You just… were.

Lucifer exhaled. The air between you grew soft, heavy, real.

“You don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” he said.

You grinned. “Then why do I feel like I still do?”

“Because you’re still measuring yourself by their rules.”

“…Damn. That was almost deep, old man.”

Lucifer gave you a look, but he didn’t leave.

Instead, he sat beside you. Not to lecture. Not to scold. Just to exist. To acknowledge that being second didn’t make you less dangerous, less capable, less worthy.

If anything, it made you more.

He started inviting you to war councils. Debates. Assignments where your mind, not just your magic, was valued. And not once did he call you lazy again.

He knew better.

----

Bonus

You challenged Diavolo to a game of chess in front of the whole council. You won. Lucifer didn’t stop you. He smiled.

Lucifer once caught you napping in the RAD library on a pile of banned books. He left you a better pillow and told everyone else to mind their business.

Mammon

Mammon didn’t get you at first.

Scratch that, he thought he got you. First time he saw you, all cool confidence and lazy smirks, lounging in RAD’s hallway like you owned the place? He assumed you were just another hotshot with an attitude problem. A stuck-up noble brat pretending not to care about anything.

So naturally, he hated you.

Not actually, not in the “let’s throw hands” way, but in that Mammon-specific, “I’m irrationally jealous and masking it poorly” kind of way. He couldn’t help it. You just had this air about you. Like no matter what was going on, you were already two steps ahead, completely unbothered, probably planning a nap.

And he hated that you pulled it off.

“Oi, you ever gonna do something other than yawn through life?” he snapped once during a group mission. “Some of us are tryin’ not to get eaten out here!”

You cracked one eye open from your perch on a ruined pillar and lazily tossed a spell that knocked out three enemies in one go.

“I am doing something. I’m making sure you don’t die.”

Mammon’s jaw clicked shut. He didn’t say thank you. You didn’t ask for it.

He told himself he didn’t care. You were smug. Cocky. Thought you were better than him.

But then... you never rubbed it in.

You never tried to outshine him. Never laughed when he messed up. Never acted like you were special even when it was obvious you were.

And that was weird. Suspicious, even. Mammon had known plenty of people who looked down on him, especially other second-borns. Especially ones with power. But you didn’t look down on him.

You looked at him like you understood.

And that freaked him out way more than the condescending stuff ever did.

The turning point came when Lucifer chewed him out in front of the entire student body for blowing a mission.

Mammon, head bowed, trying to pretend the words didn’t hurt. Trying not to flinch when someone snickered. Trying not to shout back even though he wanted to, because shouting made it worse, and Lucifer never listened anyway.

And then you just… walked up. Right past the crowd. Right past Lucifer. Right up to Mammon. Calm, slow, zero drama. You pulled out a chocolate bar, handed it to him, and said:

“Next time, don’t skip the perimeter sweep. Rookie mistake.”

Lucifer glared. Mammon blinked.

“What?”

“You’re better than that. Thought you’d know by now.”

And then you walked off like it was nothing.

Mammon didn’t touch that chocolate bar for a whole day. He just kept looking at it like it might explode or disappear.

You weren’t pitying him.

You were… expecting more from him.

And not in the way Lucifer did, with disappointment. You actually thought he could be better. That he already was.

Which meant that when you said something like that… it kinda mattered.

A lot.

So he started watching you.

Realized real fast that you weren’t nearly as lazy as you pretended to be. You just had this whole… “minimum visible effort” thing going on. But behind the scenes? You were sharp. You caught things no one else noticed. You finished your assignments perfectly, if barely on time. And when no one was looking, you trained harder than anyone. You just didn’t want people knowing how much you cared.

He saw the way your tail twitched when people mentioned your brother. The way your jaw clenched when someone praised you by comparing you to someone else. The way you brushed it all off with a laugh like it didn’t matter.

Except… it did.

And Mammon got it.

Hell, he lived it.

So one day, when you dragged yourself back to the House of Lamentation after some political event with Diavolo—eyes shadowed, tie loose, clearly somewhere between angry and resigned, he didn’t say anything.

He just handed you a drink, scooted over on the couch, and turned on a movie.

Halfway through, he tossed out, casual as anything:

“Y’know... bein’ second born sucks.”

You didn’t answer right away. Then:

“Tell me about it.”

And somehow that turned into talking. Not big, dramatic confessions, just muttered complaints. Shared glances. A quiet, mutual understanding of how much it sucked to always be the “almost.”

Mammon started noticing you dropping quiet comments about his skills in passing. Not praise, nothing embarrassing, but the kind of remarks that let him know you saw him. That he was worth seeing.

So he returned the favor.

Started making sure other demons knew you weren’t just “the other one” from your family. Started betting on you in training matches. Started watching your back in battles, not because he thought you needed help, but because you deserved backup.

And one day, during a particularly chaotic RAD event where both of you had to go undercover as rich noble heirs, you turned to him in full glam, eyes sharp, grin lazy, and said:

“Guess we’re the disappointment duo, huh?”

Mammon scoffed, adjusting his ridiculous collar.

“Yeah. But we’re hot, smart, and still here. So... screw everyone else.”

“Amen.”

-----

Bonus

You and Mammon once got banned from a nobles-only tea party for being “too casual.” You left a gift basket of crumbling scones and slime bombs on the host’s doorstep. Neither of you confessed.

He calls you “Copycat” and you call him “Backup Plan.” Neither of you mean it. Both of you refuse to stop.

Mammon once punched a demon who insulted you. You knocked the guy out before the punch landed. Mammon’s still mad you stole the glory.

Levithan

At first glance, you and Levi were nothing alike.

He was all hunched shoulders and self-deprecating stammers, eyes glued to a screen. You were sprawled across the RAD courtyard like it was your kingdom, radiating bored royalty energy, tail flicking with irritation every time someone dared to speak too loudly.

Levi thought you were cool. In the “definitely-a-main-character” way that made him feel even more like a sidekick.

“Why would someone like that ever talk to someone like me?” he muttered to himself one day, watching from the shadows of the library stacks as you verbally dismantled a noble demon for misquoting historical literature.

He did not expect you to call him out that same afternoon.

“Hey, TSL guy. You’ve been staring at me since breakfast. What’s your deal?”

Levi promptly short-circuited.

“I-I wasn’t staring! I mean, I was, but not in a weird way! Not that I think you’re weird—I mean, I don’t, but—uh—sorry?!”

You just blinked at him. Then smirked.

“Relax. I don’t bite unless someone starts something. You’re in my alchemy class, right?”

That was the beginning of what Levi later described (in his journal) as the “Most Confusing and Possibly Dangerous Friendship Quest Ever.”

Because you were confusing. You never raised your voice. You didn’t try to “fix” him. You just showed up, sometimes at the library, sometimes at the gaming lounge, sometimes in the hallway, tossing out comments like:

“I heard you coded a RAD Discord bot. That's impressive.”

Or:

“If I have to sit through another ‘family legacy’ meeting, I’m dragging you with me. Misery loves company.”

It took weeks, months even, before Levi realized you weren’t just humoring him. You wanted to be around him.

That didn’t mean you liked everyone.

You brushed off flattery from others like it bored you. You got into heated debates with professors who tried to compare you to your older sibling. You had a temper, sure, but it wasn’t flashy. It simmered. You wielded sarcasm like a sword, especially when someone hinted you should be “more like your brother.”

And Levi got it. Oh, he got it.

Because when you finally admitted, in a low, offhand comment during a co-op raid, that your whole life you’d been “second best,” Levi practically dropped his controller.

“Wait—you too?”

You blinked at him, then offered the smallest, sharpest smile.

“Let me guess. They call you a loser and expect you to stay in your brother’s shadow?”

“YES. Thank you!”

That night, you both stayed up way too late swapping “Middle Child Misery” stories. Levi talked about Lucifer. You talked about your older brother the golden child, the crown prince of “why can’t you be more like him?”

Levi started looking at you differently after that.

Not like you were too cool to talk to him.

But like you were someone who got it.

And that was dangerous territory.

Because now he couldn’t stop thinking about how your tail twitched when you were irritated. How you leaned just a little too close when asking for help. How you’d fall asleep in the gaming lounge with your head tilted back, completely unbothered like the whole world could burn and you’d still get your nap in.

He started doing stupid things. Like programming a game mod where your avatar wore your RAD uniform and insulted NPCs in your exact tone. Or baking you themed cookies based on that dumb fantasy series you pretended not to like.

And okay, maybe he stared at your profile picture on Devilgram for way too long.

Not because he liked you or anything.

He just admired your confidence.

Your sarcasm.

Your hair.

…Shut up.

One day, during a student council meeting (that neither of you were technically supposed to be in), Diavolo asked everyone to describe their “greatest strength.”

You, in peak “please don’t make me participate” fashion, slouched in your chair and muttered:

“Being slightly less disappointing than expected.”

Levi choked on his drink.

Everyone stared.

You just shrugged.

Levi wanted to high-five you so bad.

Afterward, when you bumped into him at the vending machines, he didn’t hesitate.

“You know that’s not true, right?”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s not true?”

“That you’re disappointing.”

You paused, expression unreadable. Then:

“I could say the same to you.”

For once, Levi didn’t turn into a tomato. He just smiled. Small. Real.

“Maybe we’re both bad at seeing what we’re good at.”

“Speak for yourself, Levi. I’m great at napping and annoying nobles.”

“I meant… emotionally.”

“Gross.”

Still. You didn’t deny it.

----

Bonus Buffoonery

You beat Levi at Mario Kart exactly once and he called it “a betrayal of trust.”

He once caught you rereading his favorite manga. You said it was “for research.” You were on volume six by the next day.

You custom-painted his gaming headset with your insignia. He cried. You told everyone he had allergies.

Satan

From the moment Satan met you, he swore he heard theme music.

You strolled into RAD late on your first day, tail swaying, eyes lidded with boredom, and proceeded to insult the entire student body by existing with exactly zero effort while still looking five times more put-together than any of them.

And then you had the nerve to yawn during his carefully prepared presentation on demon literature preservation.

“No offense, Blondie, but if I wanted to listen to someone drone on about dusty books, I’d go talk to my brother.”

Satan narrowed his eyes. “That was offensive.”

You grinned like it was a compliment.

He hated you. He definitely hated you.

Which is why he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Not in a “what are they doing, I want to be around them” way.

In a “why does their laziness make me want to scream and also why is that kind of hot” way.

You were chaos in silk gloves. You were intelligence hidden behind languid indifference. You were all pride and bite and buried resentment wrapped in a drawl that made everything sound like a challenge. And Satan? Satan loved a challenge.

Especially one that read obscure magical theory texts for fun, but pretended to sleep through class. Or who helped him trap a demon noble in a logic corner so twisted it took three professors to untangle. You didn’t do it for credit. You did it because it was fun.

“That guy said I was just here to fill a diversity quota. Couldn’t let him walk away after that.”

“So you destroyed his entire academic career?”

“Only temporarily. He’ll recover. Probably.”

Satan found himself torn between wanting to spar with you daily and wanting to see what it would take to make you drop the act.

Because he could tell. He’d seen it too many times in himself: the way you rolled your eyes at authority but secretly memorized every exam question. How you blew off club meetings but showed up to tutor another struggling student without ever taking credit. How you scoffed at ambition and then proceeded to outperform almost every demon in your year.

You had an older sibling, didn’t you?

It clicked during one of your arguments.

“You think you know everything, don’t you?” Satan had snapped.

“No,” you shot back, eyes sharp for once. “That’s his job.”

He didn’t press. But he remembered.

And he started noticing other things, too.

Like how you always picked the farthest seat from Lucifer in group meetings. How you’d tense whenever someone brought up legacies or family trees. How you joked about being “the backup plan” with a grin that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

He understood that. More than you knew.

So when he saw you in the library one afternoon, surrounded by books but not reading, just... staring, he sat beside you.

Didn’t say a word.

Just... sat.

Eventually, you spoke.

“You think it’s pathetic?”

He blinked. “What?”

“Trying to prove you’re worth something when you know you’re always going to come second.”

He was quiet for a moment. Then:

“I think it’s human. And demon. And everyone in between.”

“Philosophical,” you muttered.

“Honest,” he corrected.

And then you sighed, muttered something about “emotions are gross,” and shoved a book at him. “Here. Help me translate this before I change my mind and burn it.”

It became a thing after that. Late-night study sessions. Banter disguised as therapy. You bickering about how tea should be brewed while he wordlessly refilled your cup exactly how you liked it. Him ranting about his brothers while you made sarcastic commentary that somehow always hit exactly where it hurt (and helped).

He started bringing you pastries from Madam Scream’s after exams.

You started falling asleep in the library more often and waking up with a blanket over your shoulders and Satan’s coat nearby.

Neither of you talked about it.

That would ruin everything.

Because admitting that you cared meant vulnerability. And vulnerability meant weakness. And weakness

Well, weakness was what your older brothers always said you’d never be allowed to show.

But Satan didn’t want you to change. He just wanted you to let him stay.

Even if you only ever admitted it through arguments and eye rolls.

----

Bonus Bookish Shenanigans:

He caught you reorganizing the library’s cursed section out of boredom. You claimed it was for “aesthetic purposes.” He covered for you when one of the books tried to hex a teacher.

You “accidentally” slipped a love poem into his stack of notes. He turned bright red and spent a week analyzing it like it was a cursed grimoire. You never told him it was meant for him. You didn’t have to.

One time, when a demon noble made a snide comment about your academic standing, Satan calmly recited your GPA, your published essays, and your winning score on the RAD magical aptitude test. Loudly. In front of the entire hall.

“Just in case anyone forgot who’s actually at the top.”

“Simp,” you muttered under your breath.

“Librarian simp,” he corrected.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus knew beauty when he saw it, physical, emotional, the kind that sparkled when people finally let themselves be loved. He could spot it through any disguise.

So the moment you waltzed into the House of Lamentation looking like you just rolled out of bed after wrestling a lion and still somehow made it look good, Asmo’s interest was piqued.

You didn’t try. That’s what got him. Everyone tried with him, tried to impress, to seduce, to mirror his vibe. But not you.

“So, are you always this overdressed?”

“Only when I expect an audience.”

Cue: the tiniest flick of your ear, the cocked eyebrow, the lazy smirk that said “I’ve seen prettier, try harder.” Oh, he was hooked.

At first, he flirted like always, throwing compliments like confetti, touching your arm with practiced elegance, winking until his eye practically had its own cardio routine. You met it all with flat looks and muttered sarcasm.

“Aw, kitten, don’t pretend you’re not charmed.”

“I’m not pretending.”

Most people blushed. You scoffed.

And that only made him want to know more.

There was something feline about you, not just the ears and tail, but the way you moved, always relaxed but hyper-aware. You’d lean on walls with half-lidded eyes, pretending you weren’t paying attention, then deliver a one-liner that cut through three layers of someone’s ego like butter.

But it wasn’t just that.

It was the sadness.

Not the loud kind. The quiet kind. The kind people carry like a second skin.

He saw it when someone mentioned family hierarchies. The way your shoulders tensed ever so slightly. Or when Lucifer praised your performance in a mission and you waved it off with a grunt, as if succeeding was a fluke and not the result of years of survival instincts and quiet brilliance.

He could relate. People expected him to sparkle on command, to be perfect, to be happy and enough for everyone. He knew what it felt like to be seen and still not be understood.

So he tried something different.

He didn’t flirt. He talked.

At first, it was little things. Asking about your skincare (which was practically nonexistent, you claimed your good looks were “genetic aggression”). Inviting you to group events and then pretending not to notice when you skipped but always keeping a seat open anyway.

He brought you mango juice one day during lunch. Didn’t say a word, just placed it on the table. You stared at it like it had declared war.

“What’s this for?”

“You mentioned you liked it once. I remembered.”

“You remembered?”

“I don’t just remember compliments, darling.”

You didn’t thank him. You drank it silently.

He counted that as a win.

The breakthrough came during a self-care night he forced you to attend, complete with facials, snacks, glitter masks, and a playlist he insisted was “emotionally healing.”

You sat there, arms crossed, eyes darting to the door like it was your salvation.

“This is torture,” you muttered.

“It’s exfoliating.”

But then something strange happened. You relaxed. Somewhere between the hand massage and the foot soak, your eyes softened. You laughed, an actual, unguarded laugh, when Asmo recounted the time Mammon accidentally glued his own eyebrows together.

“You’ve got a nice laugh, you know,” he said, not flirty, just honest.

“You’re annoying,” you replied.

“Takes one to know one.”

Later, when you thought he’d left the room, he caught you examining yourself in the mirror.

Not admiring. Analyzing.

He leaned in the doorway.

“Looking for flaws?”

“I don’t need to. They’re obvious.”

“Funny. I don’t see any.”

“You’re not looking hard enough.”

“Or maybe you’re looking too hard.”

There was silence. Then you looked away and muttered something about not needing validation. But your voice cracked just a little.

And Asmo didn’t push.

He just smiled and passed you a moisturizing cream you never asked for.

----

Bonus

You once offhandedly called yourself “the family screw-up” during dinner. Asmo nearly choked on his tart. He then spent ten minutes dramatically praising every one of your accomplishments, including one you didn’t think anyone had noticed. You turned red and threatened to stab him with a salad fork. He said, “That’s my baby.”

After a particularly bad fight with your brother back in the human world (via D.D.D. call), Asmo dragged you to the Planetarium and made you lie down under fake stars until you relaxed. He let you pretend the tears were just from allergies.

You fell asleep in the middle of one of his long rants about fashion history. He covered you with his boa and whispered, “Rest, little lion. You’re still beautiful when you’re exhausted.”

He once painted your nails while you were asleep. You woke up furious but kept them. They were gold, with tiny little crowns.

Beelzebub

You and Beel weren’t exactly a dynamic duo on paper. He was steady, sincere, gentle in a way that made people underestimate him. You? You were prickly, sarcastic, and constantly teetering between a nap and a brawl. On the surface, it seemed like the only thing you had in common was your deep, eternal love of sleep.

But then again, maybe that was enough.

The first time Beel took notice of you was during one of the rare House of Lamentation quiet evenings. Most of the brothers were out causing some form of emotional chaos, and you had curled up on the couch like it was your personal throne, your tail flicking lazily as you scrolled through your D.D.D.

He entered the room with a sandwich the size of a small dog, paused mid-bite when he saw you, and blinked.

“You’re still here?”

“Am I not allowed to exist?”

“No, it’s just… everyone else is gone.”

“Exactly. Peace at last.”

Beel shrugged and plopped down next to you with the quiet heaviness of someone used to making room for others. You didn’t move. You didn’t even comment when the crumbs started falling dangerously close to your coat.

He noticed that too.

“You’re not yelling about the crumbs.”

“I’m conserving energy. Yelling takes effort.”

“…Smart.”

And that was the beginning of your weird little understanding.

It didn’t take long for you to realize Beel had a sixth sense for knowing when someone needed food. Not wanted, needed. You never asked, never said a word about skipping meals or being too tired to cook, but somehow, he’d always show up with something.

A protein bar. Half a sandwich. A peach.

“I don’t need charity.”

“It’s not charity. It’s food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Chomp

“…Fine. Maybe I’m a little hungry.”

He never pried. Never asked why you skipped lunch, or why you sometimes looked like you hadn’t slept in a week despite spending most of your time horizontal. But he did sit next to you every time, sometimes not even talking, just eating quietly while your presence filled the room like static.

It was weirdly… nice.

He wasn’t like the others. He didn’t demand anything. Didn’t try to flirt, tease, or even fix you. He just was there, calm and dependable, like a weighted blanket with muscles.

You found yourself relaxing around him before you realized it was happening.

One night, you stayed up late training, pushing yourself way past your limit, like always, like it was the only way you knew how to silence the voice in your head that said you weren’t good enough. That you were always second-best. Always overshadowed.

You limped into the kitchen around midnight, not expecting anyone to be there.

Beel was.

Of course he was.

He was cooking what looked like enough food to feed a small army.

“You okay?” he asked without looking up.

“Peachy,” you muttered, grabbing an ice pack from the fridge.

“You’re limping.”

“You’re observant.”

He said nothing. Just finished his prep, plated up a ridiculous mountain of food, and pushed a bowl toward you.

You stared at it.

“I didn’t come here to be mothered.”

“I didn’t come here to judge.”

That shut you up real fast.

You sat. You ate. You didn’t talk, and neither did he. But when your eyes burned a little too much, when your fork slowed halfway to your mouth, he just slid a napkin your way. No fanfare. No pity.

Just quiet care.

Later, Beel found you outside, curled up under a tree in the House of Lamentation’s back garden. It was one of your hideouts, a spot where no one usually came looking. You looked up, not surprised, just tired.

“You don’t give up, huh?”

“Nope.”

“Even when I’m a mess?”

“Especially then.”

He flopped down next to you with a grunt, munching on an apple.

“Do you ever get tired of being the strong one?”

“Yeah. Do you?”

“…Yeah.”

It was the first time either of you said it aloud.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt seen.

----

Bonus Snack-Sized Softness™

He keeps a secret stash of your favorite snack in his room. No one else is allowed to touch it. Mammon tried once. Once.

When you sleep on the couch, Beel tucks a blanket around you without a word. You pretend not to notice. You totally notice.

You once caught him holding one of your worn gloves like it was precious. He got flustered. You teased him about it for a week.

You grumble every time he offers you food, but when he doesn’t, you sulk like a kicked puppy. He caught on. He always offers now.

On your worst days, when the inferiority complex is eating you alive, Beel doesn’t try to fix it. He just sits with you. Sometimes, that’s enough.

Belphegor

It started with naps. Or more accurately, nap territory disputes.

You had staked out your favorite spot on the House of Lamentation’s sun-drenched balcony, tail flicking lazily, head pillowed on your arm, ears twitching at the distant sound of someone being yelled at. You were finally slipping into that perfect dozing zone when a shadow fell over your face.

You cracked one eye open.

“You’re in my spot,” Belphegor said, expression blank, blanket slung over his shoulder like a cape.

“Correction: I conquered this spot. You’re just late.”

“I nap here every Thursday.”

“Not my problem, Sleeping Beauty.”

From that point on, it was war. Quiet, passive-aggressive, sleepy war.

Belphie would sprawl out right next to you, tugging at your blanket like a cat trying to reclaim a stolen patch of sunlight. You’d kick him. He’d roll onto your tail. You’d elbow him in the ribs. He’d "accidentally" drop a pillow on your face.

Somehow, this became a routine.

You both pretended it was about the spot. But really, it was because being around each other was weirdly… relaxing.

You weren’t chatty. He liked that. You didn’t ask him about his feelings. He really liked that. And you didn’t care that he could be blunt, moody, and emotionally volatile. You could match that energy just fine.

He’d mumble half-asleep insults like:

“You always look five seconds away from committing regicide.”

To which you’d reply:

“I’ll add you to the list.”

Mutual understanding.

But sometimes, between the bickering and naps, things got quieter. More… real.

It happened one afternoon when you came back from a long mission. Your shirt was torn. Your arm was bruised. And your expression was the kind of hollow that didn’t come from physical exhaustion.

Belphie looked up from his book.

“What happened?”

“Nothing important,” you muttered, flopping down beside him like usual.

He didn’t push. Just let the silence stretch between you. You expected him to fall back asleep.

Instead, he said:

“You looked like that when I first met you. Like you’d been picked second too many times.”

You flinched. Just slightly.

Belphie didn’t look at you. Just kept his gaze on the ceiling.

“I used to hate waking up because it meant being around people who expected me to be something I wasn’t. Always smiling, always patient. I wanted to scream.”

“So you slept to avoid expectations?”

“Something like that.”

You looked away. Bit your cheek. Felt the words sit heavy on your tongue.

“…My older sibling’s perfect. Everything I’m not. I used to think if I could just prove myself, just once, I could stop being a disappointment.”

He didn’t say anything right away.

Then:

“That’s a stupid way to think.”

You blinked.

“Gee, thanks for the therapy.”

“I mean, I think you’re impressive. And I’m the most honest one here.”

You stared at him. He yawned.

“Besides, if your sibling really was perfect, you wouldn’t be here and they would. So shut up and nap already.”

You didn’t smile. But your breathing eased. And for once, the silence wasn’t heavy.

Belphie never coddled you. He never told you to “try harder” or “just believe in yourself.” He didn’t treat you like someone broken.

Instead, he leaned against you during naps. He shared his pillow when he noticed yours was thin. He kicked you in the shin when you moped for too long and told you to stop being pathetic, but always made sure to give you the bigger blanket.

You liked that.

----

Bonus Grumpy Softness™

You once muttered in your sleep about “finally beating [sibling's name] in something.” Belphie didn’t mention it… but the next day, he “accidentally” let slip in front of Diavolo that you’d aced a test he had bombed. Oops.

Whenever you came back injured, Belphie didn’t fuss. He just threw his blanket over your head, shoved a pillow at your face, and said, “Sleep. You’ll feel better.” He wasn’t wrong.

You caught him napping in your spot once and prepared to launch a full pillow-based assault, only to find a small note tucked under the edge of the blanket. “You’re not second. You’re just quiet about being first.”

You never brought it up. But you kept the note.

Once, Beel walked in on you two mid-nap, both of you sprawled across the couch like exhausted lions, arms tangled, frowns nearly identical. He blinked. Took a picture. Sent it to the family group chat. Chaos ensued. You both denied everything.

Belphie likes the sound of your voice when you read aloud. He’ll pretend to be asleep while you’re reading ancient demon literature, but he’s always listening. Especially when you do the voices.

Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! As usual Reblogs are encouraged and appreciated!

[icycoldninja]

Do you do dead dove/yandere stuff? If so could you make a yandere!Vincent or yandere!Sephiroth x reader? The story would be different depending on the character you wanna do so...

For Vincent->

Slight angst but more obsessed- he never got over Lucrecia Crescent until reader came along or well he saw them nearly get killed by a group of people and defended them (they didn't know who it was because they had already passed out) after he killed the group off he left but always kept watch as a self assigning "bodyguard"

For Sephiroth->

Probably and preferably after Nibelheim because it makes more sense to me- either reader has been a past lover and they (hesitantly) moved on doing so Seph killed off every new lover (including those one-night stands/dates) until he finally confronted you OR reader never moved on after Sephiroth left and tried their best to find him reaching out to any and everyone + started having dreams about him and started rethinking on memories only to realize Sephiroth has been with them the whole time and eventually confronts them :3

Oh, I absolutely love the second idea for Sephiroth, hope you like how I wrote it!

Declaration (Yandere!Sephiroth x Reader)

Sephiroth had been your best friend from day one. You'd met as children, and the moment you made eye contact, there was a spark that had just flickered into existence and kept on burning for the rest of your lives. From that point on, you two were inseparable, both in combat and in your personal lives. You fought with your superiors so you could be placed in the same unit as him, and sometimes even smuggled each other into your rooms when one of you couldn't sleep.

As you got older, deeper and more profound feelings began to emerge within the both of you, and by the time he'd understood what this meant, (you figured it out a week or so before him) you'd kissed him. That first kiss between the two of you was one of millions you'd share across the span of several years, and while your life wasn't perfect, it was wonderful.

All of that suddenly came crashing to an end when you were all sent to Nibelheim. When he and Zack went to the reactor and discovered something that he wouldn't let you see, he started to grow more and more distant and listless. He went to the old mansion at the edge of town and practically boarded himself up in there; when you tried to see him, he only pushed you away. Still, you were faithful to your lover, and kept trying to get through to him, only to be given the cold shoulder.

Finally, all hell broke loose. Nibelheim was set ablaze, and Sephiroth disappeared without even coming to hug you goodbye. He always hugged you goodbye.

You tried to run into the flames and find Sephiroth, terrified for his safety, but the villagers who had barely made it out of there alive dragged you away with them, saying you were insane for trying to go back in. You fought to break free, yelling at them to mind their own business and let you go, but these people were simply too kind for their own good.

You never got to see Sephiroth again, and you spent every day since that moment mourning him, believing he'd died. You didn't want to at first, and stubbornly held onto the hope that he was still out there, probably lost and waiting for you to come and save him. You searched for him endlessly, talking to anyone who had even a hint of information, a trace of a lead, but after a few years, the pressure of life and your peers was starting to make you lose hope.

Once you started dreaming about him, it felt like you'd finally snapped.

"My love," He would whisper, unseen and barely heard. "I'm waiting."

At first you were sure it was just your imagination bringing your emotions into reality, but before long, you begun hearing his voice in your day to day life. In your waking hours. That's when you started to wonder if you were going insane.

Your life suddenly reduced to thinking about Sephiroth, dreaming about Sephiroth, replaying memories of your time together in your head, and hearing Sephiroth's voice randomly whisper into your ear. Ultimately, you couldn't take it anymore, and one night, as you struggled to fall asleep, you began thinking about how Sephiroth would have held you until you fell asleep, gently running his fingers through your hair and wishing you sweet dreams. You could feel him even now, his lips brushing against your cheek, his arms snaking around your waist to pull you closer, his legs intertwining with yours in an attempt to get as close as he could to you.

You sighed, moving to roll over, only to feel a sudden kiss on your lips. Your eyes shot open in shock, the first thing you see being those gorgeous green eyes, and an unbelievably familiar smirk.

"Hello, my love," He whispered, just like he had murmured into your ear for months on end now.

"Sephiroth!" You squealed, in both happiness and shock. "Wh—how—weren't you dead? You—were—they said you were dead."

"They were wrong," He replied, rolling you over fully so he could climb on top of you and cage you beneath him, his arms resting on either side of your head. "But you believed in me. Thank you."

"I always hoped you were out there," You mumbled, leaning up to kiss him. "I always hoped..."

"I have always been by your side," Sephiroth assured you cryptically, planting a kiss on the side of your neck in return. "In a sense, your faith kept me alive."

"I missed you so much," You all but sobbed, throwing your arms around his shoulders and pulling him as close as you could.

"There, there," He comforted you, brushing stray hairs away from your forehead, peppering the rest of your face with soft kisses before moving down to your neck, his kisses slowly turning into possessive, but loving bites. "No need to cry, my love, I am with you, and I always will be."

You didn't realize what his words meant at the time, as you believed his words were just a profession of his love for you, but they were more than that. They were a declaration of war against anyone else who would ever so much as look at you for the rest of your life.

[nabi-unveiled]

Post Nine GIFs of Your Favorite Characters and Let People Guess Your Type. Then, Tag Nine More People to Do the Same.

Just do it if you want to play. Why not?

Tagged by: @babyangelsky 💖 They said consider yourself tagged if you read it so...here I am. And by @delesaria-blog (Thanks) 🥰 and @dramalove247 (I love being tagged. It's making me way too happy. 😂)

First off, let's clarify that these are some of my FAVORITE characters - the ones that's existence brightens up my day. These are NOT the characters I find most attractive. That list would be VERY different. In other words, these are the characters I love to talk and think about. They are not the characters I'd love to dream about. I'm not sure if that was the original intent or not. I also wasn't sure if this was a BL challenge or not, but I treated it as such.

1 - Shao Peng (See Your Love)

2 - Style (The Heart Killers)

3 - Ida (My Love Mix-Up)

4 - Ai Di (Kiseki Dear to Me)

5 - Minase (Miseinen)

6 - Manju (My Personal Weatherman)

7 - Chu Sang-woo (Semantic Error)

8 - Ko Mun Young (It's Okay To Not Be Okay)

IDC that she's not a BL character. No list of my faves would be complete without her. You know she'd fit in just fine in BL land. She's my ultimate queen.

9 - Uea (Bed Friend)

[brainrotcharacters]

"they're not gay!" let me hold your hands when I say this

[supercantaloupe]

wish i could give you a hug about your migraines and medication struggles. you deserve to be cared about accommodated

thank you <3 to be clear so far i haven't encountered anyone who's been uncaring or unaccommodating about it. i'm mostly just frustrated at...not necessarily myself, i guess, but at the mere fact of experiencing new existential challenges in my daily life. it's hard and scary to admit that i'm struggling, it's hard to ask for help, and it's hard to do so with the knowledge that most people have very little real way to help other than going "that's rough, buddy"

[wellpresseddaisy]

I see one more person dooming over bullshit Republican-backed polls and I'm just going to start screaming and never stop.

These are the polling outfits that had Dr. Oz winning in PA in 2022. They were the ones predicting a red wave.

You know how they got Trump +1 in PA? They removed almost all likely voters from the Philadelphia area.

They do this when their internal polling is an absolute nightmare.

Early voting is going like gangbusters everywhere this year. People have donated to Harris like crazy. Volunteering is off the charts. People who volunteered in 2008 have said that the excitement is even greater this year.

I live in a swing state. My community tends to be pretty blue leaning, but this year it's off the charts. There are entire streets where every house has a Harris/Walz sign. It wasn't like this in 2020. People are amped up and ready to go.

I was an adult for Obama in 2008. This year feels like that. Oh...and October 2012 polling also had Romney winning the election, so there's that.

Ignore the polling and the betting markets. They can both be and are currently being manipulated by bad faith bets and polling data. Go with your gut.

[fazmid]

so glad my hair is cut super short again I can finally wear all my dangly earrings properly. like I could've worn them while my hair was getting long (read: barely touching my shoulders) but I want to wear earrings the way a man with earrings wears earrings. except I'm not a man. but I'm definitely not a woman with earrings. you understand me right? anyway glad to look like a dyke again

[maryasmorevna]

................. not to rain down on anyone's parade but barely characterized 14 year old lucerys could never have the swag eleanor or henry had

[beaversatemygrandma]

"The sun is out to get me." -me, offhanded at work shortly after telling my manager that I had some signs of heat exhaustion and telling her i was going on break in my car with the AC on full blast.

30 minutes later the boss said i was banned from going outside. His own words.

[what-a-strange-creature]

randomly remembering on this saturday evening that i attended a bookstore's midnight release party for Breaking Dawn and it was heavily masquerade themed and i still don't entirely know why

[porcupine-girl]

An important message to college students: Why you shouldn't use ChatGPT or other "AI" to write papers.

Here's the thing: Unlike plagiarism, where I can always find the exact source a student used, it's difficult to impossible to prove that a student used ChatGPT to write their paper. Which means I have to grade it as though the student wrote it.

So if your professor can't prove it, why shouldn't you use it?

Well, first off, it doesn't write good papers. Grading them as if the student did write it themself, so far I've given GPT-enhanced papers two Ds and an F.

If you're unlucky enough to get a professor like me, they've designed their assignments to be hard to plagiarize, which means they'll also be hard to get "AI" to write well. To get a good paper out of ChatGPT for my class, you'd have to write a prompt that's so long, with so many specifics, that you might as well just write the paper yourself.

ChatGPT absolutely loves to make broad, vague statements about, for example, what topics a book covers. Sadly for my students, I ask for specific examples from the book, and it's not so good at that. Nor is it good at explaining exactly why that example is connected to a concept from class. To get a good paper out of it, you'd have to have already identified the concepts you want to discuss and the relevant examples, and quite honestly if you can do that it'll be easier to write your own paper than to coax ChatGPT to write a decent paper.

The second reason you shouldn't do it?

IT WILL PUT YOUR PROFESSOR IN A REALLY FUCKING BAD MOOD. WHEN I'M IN A BAD MOOD I AM NOT GOING TO BE GENEROUS WITH MY GRADING.

I can't prove it's written by ChatGPT, but I can tell. It does not write like a college freshman. It writes like a professional copywriter churning out articles for a content farm. And much like a large language model, the more papers written by it I see, the better I get at identifying it, because it turns out there are certain phrases it really, really likes using.

Once I think you're using ChatGPT I will be extremely annoyed while I grade your paper. I will grade it as if you wrote it, but I will not grade it generously. I will not give you the benefit of the doubt if I'm not sure whether you understood a concept or not. I will not squint and try to understand how you thought two things are connected that I do not think are connected.

Moreover, I will continue to not feel generous when calculating your final grade for the class. Usually, if someone has been coming to class regularly all semester, turned things in on time, etc, then I might be willing to give them a tiny bit of help - round a 79.3% up to a B-, say. If you get a 79.3%, you will get your C+ and you'd better be thankful for it, because if you try to complain or claim you weren't using AI, I'll be letting the college's academic disciplinary committee decide what grade you should get.

Eventually my school will probably write actual guidelines for me to follow when I suspect use of AI, but for now, it's the wild west and it is in your best interest to avoid a showdown with me.

[heartmix]

Simon Riley Headcanons

random headcanons that i have of olderbf!Simon.

cod masterlist

Olderbf!Simon who sees you stressing about the way the economy is shit and everything is so expensive.

Olderbf!Simon who rolls his eyes knowing his years of savings and his income will make you and the next generation live comfortably. Why did you even go to college? There was nothing or no one else to spend it on anyways.

Olderbf!Simon who loves that you don't want to work a regular 9-5 or that you don't want to work a regular job in general. You instead have side gigs when you're bored. Your friend needed an extra pair of hands for a work assignment? Sure. Once a month event staff for whatever concert is in town? You love that.

Olderbf!Simon who watches the silly tiktoks and mini vlogs you make while he is away. He doesn't actually have tiktok downloaded but you always send him the videos you make.

Olderbf!Simon who agrees to do one of the tiktok trends with you. The one where it goes "I'm a ____ of course I ______." You didn't need to tell him how it worked. You showed him one video and he understood the assignment.

"I'm a Military wife. Of course, my husband has a side piece."

"I will literally k*ll myself before I look at another woman."

"It was a joke."

"Not a funny one, love."

Olderbf!Simon who is used to your hyperfixations changing every month. His "office" is filled with trinkets and collectibles of your newest obsessions. As a matter of fact, the whole apartment is filled with your stuff. At this point, you'll need to make new storage or get rid of things.

"I think I may have a problem or adhd. Some sort of mental illness."

"I think it's time to get a house."

Olderbf!Simon who lets you pick everything. The only thing he did was give the money. As long as you're happy he didn't care where he lived or what the colors of the bathroom walls were.

[airybcby]

Did You See Me On TV?

( bllk boys and being in a long distance relationship )

a/n — thought about this and just HAD to write. no long distance relationship experience, but def some long distance friendship experience. rather short, but i had to get it out.

content — fem! reader, set in the ' Neo Egoist ' era, some characters repeated, all characters 18+, angst, fluff, maybe some ooc for some people??, nicknames 'love' , 'babe' , 'baby' , ' my girl ' , and 'sweetheart' used

synopsis — yes, he's a world famous soccer player, but he's also your boyfriend. how does this effect your relationship?

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' you tell yourself it's fine, ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊��� the... ' radio silence '

it's been a month since your boyfriend had left to go play for the soccer team he'd been assigned to, and what had you heard from him?

...complete and utter silence.

you understood he was busy now, you really did, but he hadn't even called while he'd been gone. any text he sent was no more than 3 words.

you were still in love with him, but was he in love with you anymore? had he forgotten all about you? was there another girl that was better than you?

the promise the two of you had made before he left sat on your tongue like lead now.

" you'll come back whenever you can, right? " you'd asked him. " for you? always. i couldn't imagine a life without you. i promise i'll call every chance i get. "

you stared at your phone, the text you'd sent him before his game started staring back at you...mocking you.

you: good luck, love!! i'm rooting for you from home! i love you, have fun, don't get hurt. call me when you can <3

it was almost pitiful. three almost exact texts sat above that one, and he hadn't even bothered to read them until after the game, simply replying with a...

him <3 : thanks

and no, if you were wondering, he hadn't ever called you.

and here you were, like a fool, curled up in your bed watching his game on live TV, watching as he made his second goal of the day.

maybe, just maybe, he'd call you after this one.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ SAE ITOSHI, isagi yoichi, RIN ITOSHI, oliver aiku, OTOYA EITA, rensuke kunigami

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' a complete mess '

he'd been gone a month, and you can't count a single day he hasn't called you three times at minimum. you'd been together for a while, but you never realized how much he relied on you to do basic everyday tasks for him.

"babe? do you know where i usually keep my long socks?" you heard come from your phone speaker as you were trying to do your own homework, mind you.

" usually in the middle of your top drawer next to your underwear. unless you've changed it. " you stated, he'd asked you this question every single time he had a game since he had left, but you wouldn't dare expect him to remember that.

" you're the best, baby. what would i do without you? " your boyfriend asked as he pulled socks out of his drawer, propping his phone up on the bedside lamp as he slid the socks onto his feet.

" lose your head, probably. " you joked, looking up from your work to admire him.

yes, everyone got to see him as the big, bad soccer player on TV, but with you? he seemed like a completely different person, not someone who could get a hat trick and also simultaneously asking where their phone is while it's in their hand.

" your games soon, love. you gotta get going. " you helpfully reminded him, as if you were his personal alarm ( you were but that's besides the point )

" ah crap, thank you baby. i'll call you after i win," he said cheekily. " i'll score a goal just for you, so make sure you watch!"

" you know i will. call you later, i love you. " you reflected his smile through the phone. " i love you too! " he repeated. and just as you were about to press the 'end call' button...

"oh, baby? do you remember where i put my jersey?"

yeah, without you he'd be a train wreck.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, bachira meguru, HIORI YO, gin gagamaru, ZANTETSU TSURUGI, ranze kurona

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' basically married '

it'd been a month since your boyfriend had left to go play professional soccer, and out of the four games he had played, you'd been flown out for three of them.

" do you like it? " he asked giddily, as if he was a child on christmas morning waiting to open presents. but instead of a gift, it was him showing you the hotel room he'd gotten you so you could watch his game this week too.

" you're too sweet to me, love. i would've been happy just sitting at home and cheering you on from there. " you told him. " nope! you're no longer allowed to watch the games from home," he said as if it was a fact.

oh, soccer players and their superstitions.

" even the whole team agrees! my girl is our lucky charm! "

the one game you missed, because you had a big test may i add, they lost. it wasn't a horrible loss, no, they went into additional time and lost 5-4.

your shock and confusion must have been written all of your face, because he just laughed. " c'mon sweetheart, why don't you just come live with me here ? "

many reasons, actually. you still had school, it was across the world (not really but it felt like it ), your family, your friends.

he knew all of this, of course. there usually wasn't a day that you seriously considered it. considered being here, with him, instead of having to facetime and miss him.

one day, you would, but not now...you think.

"oh, hush. you gotta get going, you have a game to win." you huffed, pushing at his shoulder to hopefully get him going out the door.

"alright, alright. i'll come back with you after the game, sweetheart. i love you, see you after my win! "

and win he would, because he swore to himself that if he won this game the velvet box that was hiding in his dresser would finally be able to come out.

but, hey, even if he didn't win, would you say no to the ring he had custom made for you?

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ REO MIKAGE, isagi yoichi, YUKIMIYA KENYU, chigiri hyoma, nijiro nanase, BARO SHOEI

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' you're just in love ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

this was really written on a whim, but i hope yall liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!

[thighsa]

Fuck yes more noncon writers, professor Jihyo getting harassed by her students would be good

Request :

LOOK AT ME

TWICE Jihyo X Students

Warning : Non Con Smut (please don't read if you don't like it, thanks!)

The faint scent of rain lingered in the air as Professor Park Jihyo stepped into the dimly lit classroom, her footsteps echoing off the polished wooden floor. She was a stark contrast to the dullness of the room, her chic black mini dress hugging her curves like a glove, the one-shoulder design revealing a hint of her toned shoulder. The soft rustle of her dress was the only sound in the otherwise silent room as she set down her briefcase and arranged her notes on the podium.

Her eyes scanned the room, noticing the way the male students' eyes lingered on her, their gazes hungry and unabashed. She felt a shiver of discomfort but brushed it off, focusing on the lesson ahead. She was used to the occasional stare, but today felt different—more intense, more predatory. Jihyo took a deep breath and began her lecture, her voice steady and professional, but the energy in the room remained charged.

After an hour of discussing complex theories and historical contexts, she glanced at the clock, relieved to find the class was almost over. The tension grew as the minutes ticked by, the atmosphere thickening like the humidity before a storm. When the bell finally rang, the female students gathered their belongings and filed out quickly, whispering among themselves. Jihyo packed up her notes, ignoring the stares that seemed to burn through her back.

"Professor Park, may I ask you a question about the assignment?" one of the male students called out, his voice a little too eager. She nodded, turning to face him as the last of the female students slipped out the door. His eyes traveled over her body, lingering on her legs, which the sheer tights did little to hide. "It's about the research paper," he said, trying to sound innocent, but his gaze gave away his true intentions.

Jihyo's heart raced as she approached him, her heels clicking with each step. "Certainly," she replied, her voice tight. "What seems to be the issue?" The other male students had gathered around now, their eyes feasting on her figure. She could feel the heat of their stares, and her discomfort grew as the last of the female students disappeared from view.

The student cleared his throat, his eyes never leaving her body. "I just wanted to make sure I understood the criteria correctly," he said, his voice thick with something other than academic concern. "It's about the sources we need to use, and the depth of analysis required." His friends leaned in closer, their expressions predatory.

Jihyo's eyes narrowed slightly, but she maintained her professional demeanor. "The instructions are quite clear," she said, her tone firm. "Use at least five scholarly sources, and your analysis should be critical and insightful." She took another step towards the podium, hoping to put some distance between herself and the encroaching group of men. "Is there something specific you're having trouble with?"

The student took a step closer, his hand brushing against her desk. "Well, I was just wondering if we could go over it together, you know, one-on-one," he suggested, a smarmy smile playing on his lips. The others chuckled, and she felt the first twinge of fear. The room had emptied, leaving only the echo of their muffled laughter.

"I'm sorry, but my office hours are reserved for all students to ask questions," she said, her voice a tad shakier than she'd like. "Now, if you'll all excuse me, I have another class to prepare for." She turned to leave, but before she could take a step, the same student reached out and gently placed a hand on her arm.

"Professor Park," he began, his voice dripping with fake charm, "I really need to discuss this with you privately. It's quite urgent." His grip tightened slightly, and Jihyo felt the beginnings of a panic attack. She glanced around the room, searching for an escape, but the curtains had been drawn, and the door was now blocked by the towering forms of his friends.

"Let go of me," she demanded, her voice a mix of fear and anger. The student's smile never wavered as he leaned in closer. "We're just trying to get to know our professor better, that's all." His breath was hot on her neck, and she could feel the fabric of his sweater brushing against her bare shoulder.

The student chuckled, his eyes darkening. "Come on, Professor, don't be so cold. We're just showing some appreciation for how hard you work." His friends closed in, their smirks widening.

Jihyo's pulse raced, her mind racing even faster. She had to get out of here. She tried to keep her voice steady as she addressed the group, "I think you've misunderstood the situation. This is not appropriate behavior." Her voice was firm, but she couldn't hide the tremble in it.

The leader of the pack, the one holding her arm, leaned in closer, his breath hot on her ear. "You're so pretty when you're flustered, Professor," he whispered, his tone a toxic blend of mockery and lust. His grip tightened, and she felt a shiver of fear run down her spine.

Jihyo's eyes searched the room, desperately looking for a way out. Her heart was racing so fast she could feel it in her throat, but she forced herself to stay calm. "I'm not here for your entertainment," she said firmly, her voice carrying the authority she wished she felt. "Now, let go of me."

The student didn't budge. Instead, he leaned in even closer, his breath hot on her skin. "Oh, but Professor, you're so much more than entertainment." His free hand reached out, tracing the line of her hip before resting on her ass. "You're a role model. A goddess. And we just want to show you how much we appreciate that."

Jihyo felt bile rise in her throat as she jerked away, her eyes flashing with anger. "You're crossing a line," she spat, her voice shaking with restrained fury. "Let go of me right now!"

The student's smile turned into a sneer as he tightened his grip, his friends closing in around her. The room was suffocating, the air thick with their cologne and lust. Jihyo knew she had to act fast before they could overwhelm her. She swung her briefcase, aiming for the closest face, but it was caught by another student, who chuckled as he yanked it out of her grasp.

"Now, now, Professor," the ringleader said, his eyes glinting with excitement. "Don't be like that. We're just showing you how much we admire you." His hand slid up her side, cupping one of her breasts over her dress. She gasped, the material of the dress giving way slightly, and she could feel the coldness of his hand through her bra.

Jihyo's mind was a whirlwind of fear and anger. She had to do something, anything to get out of this situation. She took a step back, trying to put some space between them, but the circle of students only tightened. "You need to stop," she warned, her voice shaking. "This is harassment, and I won't tolerate it."

The students ignored her protests, their eyes gleaming with excitement. One of them stepped closer, his hand reaching out to touch the sequins on her dress. "It's just a little fun," he said, his voice low and taunting. "You're so beautiful, Professor. We can't help ourselves."

Jihyo's eyes searched the room for an escape, but the path was blocked. She felt a hand slide up her thigh, and she gasped, her skin crawling. "Get your hands off me," she snapped, trying to push the students away. But they only laughed, their grip on her growing stronger.

"What's the matter, Professor?" the ringleader cooed, his thumb circling her nipple through the fabric of her dress. "We're just giving you some extra credit." His friends chuckled, their hands roaming her body with no regard for her boundaries. Jihyo felt a surge of adrenaline, and she knew she had to act.

With a swift move, she brought her knee up, catching the student in the groin. He yelped in pain, his grip on her arm loosening. She used the opportunity to break free, pushing her way through the crowd. But they were too strong, too eager. They grabbed at her dress, her hair, trying to pull her back.

The fabric of her dress began to give way, the seams straining under the pressure of their rough hands. The sound of tearing fabric filled the room, and Jihyo felt a rush of cold air as her dress ripped open, exposing her lacy black lingerie to their leering eyes. She stumbled backward, trying to cover herself with her arms, her cheeks flaming with humiliation.

"Look at her, guys," one of the students sneered, his eyes raking over her exposed body. "Professor Park isn't so high and mighty now, is she?" The others jeered, closing in like a pack of hyenas.

Jihyo's instincts took over as she backed away, her eyes wild with fear. The room seemed to spin, the walls closing in around her. Her hands searched for anything to use as a shield or a weapon, but the desks had been pushed aside, leaving her vulnerable. "I'm warning you," she managed, her voice strained, "I'll call campus security."

The threat had no effect on the students, who only laughed harder, their eyes alight with the thrill of the hunt. As she reached for her bag to grab her phone, the ringleader was faster. He lunged forward, catching her wrist and twisting it painfully. "No need for that, Professor," he said, his grin turning malicious. He yanked the bag away and tossed it aside. "We're going to have a little private tutoring session."

Her eyes widened in panic, and she opened her mouth to scream, but it was already too late. Another student grabbed the torn fabric of her dress and shoved it into her mouth, effectively silencing her protests. She felt the material knot against the back of her throat, making her gag and her eyes water.

With surprising strength, she thrashed and tried to fight back, but the students were too many, their hands too strong. They held her arms behind her back, forcing her against the cold, unforgiving blackboard. The chalk dust tickled her nose, and she struggled to breathe through the fabric that was now a makeshift gag.

Her eyes watered as she watched him approach, the belt in his hand. He smirked, enjoying her fear, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her skin as he leaned down to whisper, "This will keep you from causing any trouble." With a swift, practiced motion, he secured her wrists, binding them behind her back. She struggled, but the leather held firm, the buckle digging into her flesh.

With a collective grunt, the students hoisted her up, her legs kicking wildly. They swung her once, twice, the world becoming a blur of desks and books, before releasing her. She felt a moment of weightlessness, followed by the harsh impact of the floor. The wind was knocked out of her, and she lay there, gasping for breath, her cheek pressed against the cold tiles.

Her vision cleared in time to see the ringleader undoing his pant, the metal zip echoing through the now-silent room. His eyes never left hers, the malicious grin still etched onto his face as he pulled down his pants, revealing his erect cock. The other students followed suit, their own arousal evident as they stepped closer, their eyes never leaving the vulnerable form of Professor Jihyo.

The sight of them disrobing sent a wave of terror through her. She thrashed and kicked, trying to get away, but their grip was unrelenting. One of them grabbed her ankles, his hands rough on her smooth skin as he held her legs apart. Another pulled at her tights, the delicate fabric giving way with a sickening rip, exposing her to their hungry gazes.

The ringleader knelt down between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs as he pushed them wider apart. Jihyo's breath hitched in her throat as his thumb found her clit through the damp fabric of her panties. He began to rub it in slow, deliberate circles, his eyes never leaving hers. The sensation was unwelcome, the intimacy of the touch repulsive, but she couldn't help the way her body reacted, the way the fear and disgust melded with a begrudging arousal.

The other students had formed a tight circle around her, their erections bobbing in time with their racing hearts. They watched with greedy eyes as their leader touched her, their hands moving to their own crotches to start stroking themselves. The sight of their pleasure was like a knife to her soul, a reminder of how utterly powerless she was in this situation.

Jihyo's eyes filled with tears as the ringleader's thumb continued to work her clit, his touch a cruel parody of the gentle caresses she craved from a partner who truly cared for her. She could feel the fabric of her lingerie growing damp, the heat building between her legs despite the horror of what was happening. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the sight of her tormentors, but their heavy breathing and the sound of their hands on their cocks only served to heighten the sensations.

Her body betrayed her, responding to the unwelcome touch despite her mind's protests. She could feel the tension in her abdomen, the familiar ache of arousal that she despised in this moment. The ringleader leaned in closer, his breath hot against her skin as he whispered, "You're going to be our cumdump, enjoy it Professor Park." The words were like a slap, sending a wave of disgust through her.

The other students had formed a tight semi-circle around her, their erections jutting out like weapons of war. They began to stroke themselves in time with the ringleader's movements, their eyes glued to the show before them. Jihyo's body was their plaything, a toy to be used for their pleasure. She felt their gazes like a thousand tiny needles piercing her soul, each stroke of their hands a violation.

Her eyes searched the floor, looking for anything that could help her. But all she saw was the cold, unforgiving reality of her situation. Her body was responding, her breath coming in quick gasps. She bit down on the fabric of her dress, trying to muffle the noises she didn't want to make, the noises that would only spur them on.

The ringleader's thumb increased its pace, his eyes never leaving hers. She could see the excitement in his pupils, the thrill of having her, their professor, at his mercy. His other hand reached down to slip inside her panties, and she felt the coldness of his skin against her wetness. She whimpered, the sound muffled by the makeshift gag.

Jihyo's thoughts raced. She couldn't let this happen. She had to do something, anything, to escape. With a surge of strength fueled by desperation, she bucked her hips, trying to dislodge him. But he was too strong, too determined. He chuckled darkly, his thumb pressing harder against her clit, the pain and pleasure melding together into a toxic cocktail that made her stomach churn.

Forcefully, he shoved two of his thick fingers inside her cunt, the roughness of his skin scraping against her sensitive walls. She couldn't hold back the cry of pain and humiliation that tore from her throat, the sound muffled by the fabric. He didn't stop there. He began to pump his fingers in and out of her, the rhythm growing faster and more brutal with each thrust. His other hand curled around the plump flesh of her ass, and with a sadistic smirk, he raised it to deliver a hard smack.

The impact made her whole body jolt, the pain shooting through her like a bolt of lightning. Her ass cheek burned, and she could feel the imprint of his hand as if it was branded onto her skin. But he wasn't satisfied with just one. He continued to spank her, his hand landing with a series of sharp smacks that grew in intensity until her skin was swollen and red. She could feel the heat radiating from the spot, and she knew that if she could see herself, she'd be horrified at the sight of her own body.

Her eyes locked onto the ring of students surrounding her, their own arousal palpable. One of them had stepped closer, his eyes glued to her bouncing breasts. He reached out tentatively, as if afraid she might bite, and brushed the pad of his thumb over her nipple. It hardened beneath his touch, and she felt a bolt of unwanted pleasure shoot through her body.

The student's eyes grew wide as he watched her reaction, and then he grinned, emboldened by her body's betrayal. He leaned in, his breath hot against her chest, and Jihyo felt a surge of revulsion. He reached behind her and with one swift move, unclasped her bra, letting her heavy breasts spill out into his eager hands. He took one in his hand, squeezing it like it was a squishy ball, his eyes never leaving hers as he enjoyed her unwilling display of vulnerability.

Another student stepped forward, his hand shaking with excitement as he reached out to touch her. He traced the line of her neck with his index finger, his eyes glued to the soft mounds of her breasts. He leaned in, his nose mere inches from her cleavage, and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her arousal. She felt his hot breath against her skin and had to fight the urge to gag.

With a grin that sent chills down her spine, he stepped back, unzipping his own pants. He pulled out his cock, already thick and engorged. Jihyo's eyes widened in horror as he began to stroke himself, his eyes never leaving hers. The sound of his hand moving up and down the shaft filled the room, a sickening soundtrack to her nightmare.

"Look at me, Professor," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. Jihyo's eyes flicked up, unable to look away from the obscene display. His strokes grew quicker, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was close, she could tell, and she braced herself for what was to come.

The student leaned over her, his cock just an inch from her nose. His hand moved with a feverish intensity, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. The scent of his arousal filled her nostrils, and she wanted to gag. The room was spinning, the world narrowing down to this one, horrific moment.

And then it happened. With a grunt, the student came, spurting his hot seed onto her face. The salty warmth splattered across her cheek, her forehead, and into her hair. She squeezed her eyes shut, but not before catching a glimpse of his triumphant grin. The others cheered, their excitement only growing. The sticky fluid trickled down her face, a degrading reminder of her powerlessness.

As the ringleader's minion stepped back, another took his place, his phone out and ready to capture every humiliating second. His thumb hovered over the record button, his eyes gleaming with excitement. The coldness of the screen pressed against her skin as he positioned it to get the best angle. Jihyo's heart sank. This wasn't just a moment of horror to be endured and forgotten. This would be a permanent record, a digital trophy for these monsters to share and revel in.

The camera rolled, the red light a silent, mocking eye that bore into her soul. She could feel the lens zoom in on her face, capturing the fear, the pain, and the betrayal that swirled in her eyes. The sound of the recording filled the room, a cold digital click that seemed to amplify every ragged breath she took. The ringleader chuckled, his eyes never leaving hers as he watched the scene unfold from the screen.

One by one, the students approached, their cocks hard and eager. They took turns, their hands trembling with excitement as they painted her body with their sticky, white fluid. Each time, she felt a fresh wave of humiliation crash over her, the reality of her situation becoming more and more unbearable. The first spurted onto her chest, the second onto her face, the third onto her breasts. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the sight, but she could feel the warmth spreading across her skin, a brand of their conquest.

The fourth and fifth students aimed for her thighs, the coolness of their cum a stark contrast to the heat of their lust. The sensation was like a thousand tiny pinpricks, each one a reminder of her helplessness. She could feel the stickiness of it seep into her high stockings, the fabric that are clinging to her skin. The sixth and seventh focused on her ass, the wetness of their cum sliding down her cheeks and pooling around the waistband of her torn panties.

Jihyo's eyes remained tightly shut, but she couldn't escape the sounds of their pleasure, the wet smacks of flesh meeting flesh, the grunts and gasps that filled the room. She could feel the warmth of their semen on her skin, the sticky mess that was slowly spreading across her body. The eighth student took his time, stroking himself as he stared at her sexy tight lingerie. He leaned in, whispering obscenities into her ear, his breath hot and wet. And when he finally came, it was with a roar that sent shivers down her spine, the first ropes of cum splattering onto her inner thighs.

The last student, the ringleader, stepped forward, his cock rock hard. He grabbed the fabric still stuffed in her mouth and yanked it out with a cruel smirk. She coughed and gagged, her mouth open in shock and horror. Without a moment's hesitation, he shoved his dick inside, choking her as he began to fuck her mouth. She tried to resist, to push him away, but his grip on her neck was like iron, cutting off her air supply. She could feel the veins in her throat bulging as she struggled to breathe.

Jihyo's eyes watered, her vision blurring as she fought the panic that threatened to overwhelm her. His cock was thick and unyielding, filling her mouth completely, the taste of him making her want to retch. She could feel the pulse of his arousal against her tongue, the way he enjoyed her pain, her fear. The pressure grew, the room spinning around her, and she realized with a sickening clarity that she might pass out if he didn't release her soon.

Her hands were bound behind her back, so she couldn't push him away. Her legs were spread, her body on full display for the other students, who watched with a mix of horror and fascination. She could hear the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of her mouth, the slap of his balls against her chin. Her jaw grew sore from the relentless pounding, and she could feel her mouth stretching to accommodate his size.

The ringleader's grip on her throat tightened, and she felt the first spark of true panic. She couldn't breathe, couldn't scream, couldn't do anything but take the abuse. The room was spinning, and dark spots danced before her eyes. Just when she thought she couldn't take any more, he pulled out, a line of saliva connecting his cock to her mouth. She gasped for air, choking and coughing, the taste of him still strong on her tongue.

He grinned, his eyes gleaming with malicious pleasure. Then, without warning, he slapped her face hard, the sound echoing in the room like a gunshot. Jihyo's head snapped to the side, pain blooming on her cheek. Before she could react, he slapped her again, and again, the sharp sting of his palm against her skin sending shockwaves through her body.

Her eyes watered, and she felt a warm trickle of blood seep from the corner of her mouth. The ringleader leaned in, his cock still slick with her saliva. He slapped her face once more, but this time with the full length of his erection. The pain was exquisite, a mix of agony and degradation that made her want to weep. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

With a sadistic smirk, he slapped her again, his dick hitting her cheek with a wet smack that made her stomach heave. And again, his movements growing more and more forceful, as if he was trying to imprint his dominance onto her very soul. Jihyo's eyes remained locked with his, a silent scream trapped behind her gag, her body trembling with fear and anger.

The ringleader's friends watched with a mix of excitement and unease, their own orgasms forgotten as they awaited the grand finale of their twisted spectacle. The anticipation was palpable, a thick tension that seemed to coil around her throat, choking her. And then, with a final brutal thrust, he pushed his cock back into her mouth, so deep she felt the head hit the back of her throat. She gagged, her eyes watering as she struggled to breathe, her tongue pinned against the roof of her mouth.

The pressure built, and she knew what was coming. With a triumphant grunt, he came, his warm cum flooding her mouth. She couldn't help but swallow, the salty taste filling her senses, making her stomach churn. He held her head in place, forcing her to take every last drop, his eyes never leaving hers, drinking in her humiliation. When he was finished, he pulled out with a wet pop, a strand of cum connecting his cock to her swollen lips.

With a smirk, he wiped his cock clean on her cheek before tucking it back into his pants. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, his thumbs moving deftly across the screen. Jihyo felt a cold dread fill her as she watched him tap out a message, his grin growing wider by the second. And then, with a cruel flourish, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, "You're going to be famous, Professor."

The ringleader snapped a photo, capturing her in her most degrading and vulnerable state. Her eyes were wide with shock and fear, her makeup smeared by the cum and tears. Her dress was torn, her breasts spilling out of her ruined lingerie, and her legs were still splayed open, revealing her wet pussy. The picture was a testament to their power over her, a trophy of their depravity.

With a wicked grin, he opened the student group chat on his phone and added her to the conversation. He watched as her phone vibrated with the notification, the screen lighting up with the message. Jihyo's eyes followed his movements, understanding what he was doing. The realization of what was to come only served to heighten her panic.

He held up his phone, the picture of her displayed proudly for all to see. "Everyone," he announced, his voice dripping with satisfaction, "meet our newest member, Professor Jihyo." He posted the image, and she watched in horror as it uploaded, the spinning wheel of doom sealing her fate. The chat exploded with messages, a cacophony of emojis and lewd comments from the members that made her want to vomit.

"Remember, Professor," he continued, his hand stroking the length of her cheek with the same hand that had just moments ago been wrapped around his cock, "everytime we want you, you have to come, like a dog." His words were a vile promise, a declaration of ownership that sent a chill down her spine. "And if you don't," he leaned in, his breath hot against her ear, "you'll be a famous star, not just in this college, but online."

The threat was clear, the implication terrifying. Jihyo's heart hammered in her chest as she took in the leering faces of her tormentors. The room was a haze of lust and malice, and she knew she was fighting a battle she could not win.

THE END

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[9:43 pm]

(cw: f!reader, Mark is drunk)

"Fuck yeah! Keg stand champion!" You hear someone yell as you make your way into the crowded living room of the NXT frat house.

You hadn't planned on being here tonight. You had some assignments you wanted to get a jump on, you hadn't been in the best mood all day, and you didn't feel like spending your night around a bunch of drunken, bumbling idiots.

So how did you end up here? Your drunk, bumbling boyfriend fratboy!Mark. Well, not him directly. He'd been a little whiny when you told him you weren't going to come to the party tonight, but he understood your reasoning and didn't push. You'd actually gotten a call from Johnny about 20 minutes ago asking you to come help with Mark.

Mark was a lightweight, like a featherweight even. If he even smelled alcohol, he got tipsy. For the most part, during parties, you put yourself in charge of making sure Mark didn't get too drunk. When he got too drunk he got messy. Without you being there, there was no one to be in charge. You should have guessed you'd be getting this call at some point in the night, but not less than an hour after the party began.

You elbow past some drunk party goers and make your way upstairs toward one of the bathrooms that's always off limits during parties. You knock, hearing a muffled, "occupied! Use a bathroom downstairs!"

"Johnny," you reply, "it's me."

You hear a retch and cringe, listening as Johnny pulls the door open. He let's out a sigh of relief, "I'm sorry, he just wouldn't stop crying because he missed you. I don't know how you deal with this. He's fine with you, right?"

"Of course he is. Thanks for calling, enjoy your party," you nod with a smile.

Johnny leaves you and Mark alone in the bathroom and you take to helping Mark out. You rub his back and give him the water bottle Johnny had left on the counter for him. Mark is groaning the whole time, eyes shut as he curls in on himself. After about 15 minutes you know that he's done.

He's slumped against the toilet bowl when you pat his cheek, "come on, babe. Let's get you back to bed."

He doesn't even open his eyes as he whines, "not goin' to my room wi' you."

"We need to get you to bed, babe, come on," you prod.

His eyes snap open as he lifts his head, "Stop callin' me babe. Look, I have a girlfriend alright. She won't be happy if I bring another girl to my room."

"Mark, I am your girlfriend," you explain.

"No, you're not," Mark shakes his head like a child, "my girlfriend didn't wanna come out tonight, and she said— she said she's not comin' tonight." He's looking up at you with tears in his eyes, "I really miss 'er."

You crouch down beside him, cupping his cheek as you coo, "baby, I'm here. It's me."

"No, you're not you!" He squints at you, rubbing his eyes and grumbling about needing his glasses, "if you're my girlfriend, tell me something only my girlfriend would know."

You stare at Mark blankly, as his girlfriend since senior year of high school, there's a lot of things only you would know. You shrug and answer anyway, "when we lost our virginities to each other you cried."

"My mom knows that too, pick something else!"

"Mark, why would you tell your mom about that?" You ask incredulously.

"She loves me!" He cries, "just like my girlfriend! I miss my girlfriend!"

"Oh my— Mark Lee. It's me, I'm your girlfriend. You text me every time you need to wash your sheets because you forget how much detergent you need, you like it when I kiss below your ear, you keep snacks under your bed for midnight snacks, and you have a crush on the librarian on the third floor for some reason," you list off.

"Oh, my snuggle muffin! It is you! I missed you!" Mark exclaims as he throws himself into your lap, embracing you tightly.

You laugh, brushing your fingers through his damp hair, "I told you. Can we get you to bed now?"

"You're staying right?"

"Yes, Mark."

[smutoperator]

I Love Her Smile

Kim Jiwon (Jeewon) x Male Reader

Tags: ass eating, belly bulging, big tits worship, bikini, bouncy boobs, creampie, cup, cute smile, deepthroating, (lots of) facefucking, motorboating, pile driver, queefing, riding, titfucking, spit, vibrator

Word count: 3739

After filming the music video for Cignature's latest comeback, Jeewon seemed tired. Being the milking cow of a small company while carrying such a heavy load can be quite burdensome. But even after such an exausting routine, she managed to always smile.

You met Jeewon after the filming, asking her about how she felt. "I'm good, but a little tired; how about you?" she asked. "I'm fine; better now with you. I love your smile, Jeewon," you replied.

"I wasn't born yesterday; I know what you mean by that," Jeewon said. "Well, you're such a tease I had to notice," you said back. "Indeed, I live off that," she continued.

"Then stand up and show me what you mean by that," you told her. Jeewon understood the assignment, shaking her body left and right and making her beautiful milkers swing. "Perfect, they are so beautiful," you told her. Indeed, Jeewon's massive tits never ceased to amaze you, no matter how often you had seen them. That outfit they gave her for the video made Jeewon look sexier than ever, and you were enjoying it to the fullest.

"Shake them harder, tease me," you ordered to Jeewon, who obliged. Her small bra could barely hold her fully natural 34 double-D cup tits in place, and that got truer with all her shaking. Jeewon felt her nipples start to slip and tried to cover them as an instant reaction, but it was futile.

Jeewon laughed and bounced her boobs up and down. Her bra wasn't enough to hold them in place for long, with her right tits popping up first. She kept shaking them until they were on full display. "Good girl, that's what I'm talking about," you told her.

"That was fun," Jeewon smirked at you. "Keep teasing me; put your bra back and flash them," you told her, who does that before letting them fully free. "I could do this all day for you," she said. "But weren't you tired?" you asked her. "Yeah, but I love the attention you give to my tits," she said.

"Well, you're such a cute, sexy girl, Jeewon. I'll give you all the attention; better if you take those jeans off," you tell her. "Sure," she says, pulling her pants down and showing the lower part of her bikini. "It's all for you; we didn't film it in the music video because it hardly covers anything," she said.

"If it barely covers anything, you should just pull them to the side," you told Jeewon, who quickly followed, spreading her ass cheeks for you to see her holes. "We're just getting started," she said. "Indeed we are; take those panties off next," you ordered. "Hmmm nice, your ass is winking already; I can't wait to put my tongue in there," you told her.

"You're such a naughty boy," Jeewon told you. "Yes, I am," you said back. "You told me you were tired; you should sit on this chair and let me please you," you continued. "Of course," she said.

Jeewon sat on the char as you started massaging her bare boobs, then kissed them and licked her nipples. Alternating between the boobs, your tongue perfectly worshipped them. "Shake them into my face," you asked. Jeewon grabbed her udders close together, and you started motorboating her, much to her enjoyment. 

"Lube your tiddies," you told Jeewon, giving her a bottle to pour the liquid all over it. "Shake them for me, my baby," you said. Her lubed tits made for a much easier massage, as you quickly took advantage and easily slid your hands back into Jeewon's udders, clapping them against each other and enjoying the sound.

"Everything is better with lube," Jeewon says. "You know what's better? Your tits shaking in my face," you replied, starting another round of motorboating, this time with Jeewon going much faster. After she was done, you groped one of her tits while sucking the other like a needy baby.

"You like that, don't you?" you asked her. "Yes, I love it," Jeewon said, showing you her big, btight smile. "Shake them harder in my face," you told her. Jeewon amplified the intensity as your head was hit left and right by her huge milkers, and you loved it. So did Jeewon, who couldn't stop laughing.

"Hmmm, how much of those tiddies can I fit in my mouth?" you asked her, bringing them together and getting your face buried deep in her udders. "They can barely fit, I see," Jeewon laughed. Sometimes she tried to hide, but there was truly no point; her boobs are huge, and she loves getting them worshipped. "Your mouth is so good in my tiddies," Jeewon said as you kept kissing and grabbing them, even slapping yourself with them. 

"Let me spin it around and show where else my mouth can be good," you told her, spinning the chair hard to get Jeewon's ass in front of your face. You were so excited you ended up missing the mark and almost making her fall off. "Wow, you really want it," she said. "Yes, I do; put your ass close to my face," you replied.

"For all the talk about your tiddies, you sure got a nice ass too, Jeewon. Can you make your butt wink for me?" you asked, making her laugh. "How does a butt wink?" she asked. "Well, whatever, as long as you're ready for my tongue," you said, diving it into Jeewon's butthole with fast stabbings inside her pink anus.

Jeewon started moaning and grabbed your head to push it deeper into her ass. "Ahhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhh, you tongue it so good," she said. "Lean forward and let me spit on it," you said, sniffing and eating her tiny butthole. "So, do you like my tongue in your ass?" you asked. "I love it," she said.

A few more minutes of eating ass and Jeewon moaning ensued as you tongue-fucked her. "You taste so good," you told her, following with spinning sessions with the chair where your mouth went from her anus straight to her big tits and then back to her asshole. "Which one do you like better, how I grab your tits or how I eat your ass?" you asked. "Can't decide; both are so good," she said back.

You went back to her tits for a bit, pinching her nipples and slapping them against each other. "I just love that sound, making a milkshake with them," you said. "Now let me get back in that ass," you said, getting your tonguing more intense and Jeewon's moans louder. "Oh my God," she said as you were committed not to spare a single inch of her anus without cleaning. 

"Ohhhh, ohhhhh, you eat my ass so good," Jeewon says, with lots of moans in between. "Then hold my head and push it against it," you replied. Jeewon shaken her ass with your face making noise between her cheeks, mimicking the motorboating you gave to her tits moments ago.

"Yeah, that's perfect, ahhhh," Jeewon enjoyed every second of your tongue in her ass. "You look amazing; it seems like you're ready to suck some cock," you told her. "I'd love to," she replied.

Jeewon unzips your trousers and gets shocked by your hard cock already popping out. "So big," she says, measuring it against the bottle of lube you gave her and finding out it's got the same length. Jeewon starts sucking it using no hands and getting very sloppy from the start. "Spit all over my cock," you tell her.

It doesn't take long before you grab her head and start pushing your shaft deeper into her throat, making Jeewon almost choke on it, spitting more saliva once she gags. She quickly recovers and starts blowing it off again, making a lot of noise. 

"Are you ready to get facefucked?" you ask her. Jeewon nods positively. "Then come here," you say, grabbing her head and pounding her sloppy throat a few times as a test. "I love all that spit dripping from your face," you say, as Jeewon uses it to lube your shaft and suck it deeper, her udders bouncing hard as you fuck her face.

"Drool on it, baby," you tell as you can't stop fucking Jeewon's cute face, hitting the depth of her throat until she coughs again. Her face is already full of saliva, as you let her jerk your dick as well. "You're such a good cocksucker, aren't you?" you praise her blowjob skills.

"God, I love how much spit is falling into your chest," you tell her as you don't stop fucking her face, taking it balls deep as a string of saliva forms from Jeewon's chin up to her tits. "Shake those tits if you want to suck my cock," you tell Jeeewon, who moves them left and right after. "Perfect, just like that," you tell her.

Jeewon savors your meat to the fullest as you treat her throat like her second pussy. "Get it all the way down your throat," you tell her, but she struggles with your massive length, quickly gagging after a few tries. "I can't; it's just so fucking big.".

"Open your mouth wide," you tell Jeewon as you keep sticking your cock in it and enjoy the bulging under her cheek, giving it a couple strikes. "Holy shit, my boobs are full of saliva," she says as she shakes them, and you start the hardest round of facefucking on her. The only thing better than a smile in her face was your cock stuffing it.

"Play with your pussy while you suck my cock," you order to Jeewon, handing her one of those gigantic magic wand vibrators, which she turns on and places between her legs. Your facefucking is so sloppy; she's got saliva running all the way down her belly now, and the louder the vibrator gets, the harder you fuck her face.

Jeewon starts to moan louder as her pussy gets massaged; between it and your thrusts in her mouth, she can barely hold the vibrator as her legs get weaker. "Good girl making that big cock wet enough to hop on it," you praise her. "Yes, I'm ready to ride this," she says.

"Not yet," you tell Jeewon as she gags on your cock. "Slap those tits against my cock," you order as Jeewon brings them up together and starts hitting your pole from both sides. "Perfect, now let me spank your tiddies," you say, slapping your hard shaft against her milkers as she once again gives you that big smile you love so much.

"Squeeze that cock," you ask Jeewon, who presses your shaft between her big tits. It's so girthy she can barely squeeze them together. After such a long time, finally a cock worthy of her massive boobage. You push it up and down her tits, like a sausage making its way between a pair of hot dog buns.

You don't hold back, giving Jeewon the hard titfucking her massive udders deserve. "Open your mouth, lick that cock while I destroy those big tits," you tell her. Jeewon loves it, licking your tip like a maniac every time it emerges out of her milkers. "Keep your mouth open," you say, thrusting so hard that instead you actually end up missing it multiple times.

You lay down and let Jeewon be in control. As she squeezes your cock so hard, only your tip now pops out of her tits. "Oh yeah, that's so good," you tell her. "My tits are so soft and wet; look how easily they slide between your cock," she says.

However, it doesn't take long for your primal instincts to take over. "Let me tittyfuck you, bitch," you say as you start thrusting up Jeewon's huge melons in full speed. Her big heart now forms a heart-shaped (or pussy-shaped, a few would say) hole that your cock passes through. Jeewon keeps it well lubed with some spits, as you slide between her boobs fairly easily.

You take a little break and let Jeewon bounce those boobs up and down your dick like a maniac, with a few cocksuckings in between. Jeewon then stops and starts deepthroating your cock. "Do it; get it as wet as you can for your pussy," you tell her. Jeewon does just as you ask, coating your cock full of spit for a couple minutes. "Don't use your hands, just bob your head all the way down my balls," you tell her. Jeewon goes deeper and deeper until she finally gags.

"Are you ready to ride me now?" you ask Jeewon. "YESSSSS!" she enthusiastically says, her big smile back on her face. Jeewon doesn't take long to sit on your pole. "Ohhhhh," you groan as her tight pussy squeezes your walls. Jeewon herself is impressive, as she takes your full length. "Oh my God, Oh My God, fuck," she says as soon as she starts bouncing on it.

Jeewon quickly turns into a mess; your wet cock easily slides up and down her pussy, and her boobs are now jiggling nonstop. "God damn it, you're so fucking big," she says, but never stopping the ride.

"Choke me, yessss, ahhhhhh," Jeewon moans as you make it harder on her. Your hips clap hard against her butt every time she descends down it. You give her a little test as you push your cock up while choking her, making her laugh full of joy as she quickly regains control of the ride.

"Oh my God, you're so fucking deep inside me," Jeewon says as she can't stop moaning. You now grope her big tits, much to her enjoyment. "OH YES, OH YES, OH YES, OH YES," she rapidily screams. "Lean forward a bit," you order to her, taking her massive udders in your mouth while she bounces on your dick.

Jeewon's pussy quickly starts tightening the longer she goes with her ride. You grab her waist and push her body down your hips. "AHHHH FUCKKKK, YESSSS," she screams, closing her eyes as she gets completely impaled and her boobs bounce freely.

More and more moans come out of Jeewson's mouth as she quickly gets exausted, using all her mouth to ride your cock with hard and fast bounces. Her udders are a spectacle to watch as they turn into wild pinballs that move directionless. "AHHHHH, Fuck my little pussy," Jeewon begs, slowly getting out of breath the longer you impale her pussy.

"Get on your feet and keep bouncing on that dick," you command. Jeewon pushes harder, her pussy getting stretched out to the fullest, her ass clapping hard against your body. You finally decide to give her a break: "Come here to suck my cock," you tell her, kneeling as Jeewon bends over and gets that meat in her mouth as soon as you give her the command.

"Don't cover your tits; let me see them bounce," you tell her as Jeewon bobs her head on your cock. Like an unstoppable force meeting an unmovable object, you meet her head bobbing with more thrusts down her throat, doing as much as you can to make her boobs bounce.

"Ready to put it back in your pussy?" you ask her. "Yes, always ready," she says. "But first, you need to get a little sloppier; let me make those tits shake," you continue, fucking her face once again as you entertain herself with all the movement her milkers make while you do so.

Jeewon can't hide how tired she looks at this point, panting multiple times as she gags on your cock. But she's still hungry for cock, spitting all over it and throating it as deep as she can as you destroy her tiny, slutty mouth.

"Now you're ready," you tell her. Jeewon brings the lube bottle back and gets her boobs wet again. "Shake it," you command, as the lube falls down into your crotch and Jeewon rubs it on your shaft before sitting on it again, this time in reverse cowgirl.

Jeewon doesn't hold back, riding your cock as hard as she can. Her boobs are an even bouncier mess now. And she's an even bigger mess of moans. "AHHHH, YES, FUCK, OH MY GOD," she screams as you just passively watch, Jeewon planting her hands against the couch as a support while she bounces on your prick.

"OH FUCK THAT'S DEEP," Jeewon says as she ends up sliding your cock inside her cunt all the way down to your balls. You take advantage of this moment of weakness from her and thrust upwards. "AHHHHHH, YESSSS," she screams as her tits almost fly out of her body.

"FUCK THAT'S SO DEEP IN MY STOMACH, YES, YES, YES," Jeewon screams as your cock strikes her mercilessly balls deep, losing her breath as you hit her cervix. Her body is fully sweaty as she just lies on top of you and sits with your cock deep inside her, massaging your balls while she tries to recover from the quick but extremely hard pounding you just gave her.

Jeewon tries to ride a couple times but can barely last a minute. "FUCK YES, YES, YES," she says. "I need this cock so bad, but I'm so fucking tired," she says. "Then suck my dick," you tell her as she takes it deep in her throat like a hungry demon, but you do to her face just as you did to her pussy, pouding it from down low while Jeewon struggles with her throat getting filled full of cock at a franctic pace.

"Are you ready to get fucked lying on your back?" you ask Jeewon. "Yes, please, do it; I've never done this position before," Jeewon says with a huge smile on her face, her legs pressed against her big boobs. "Ready for this big cock to take you on a piledriver?" you keep asking. "Yesss, I'm so excited," Jeewon answers.

You rub and slap your cock against Jeewon's entrance, adding a little lube around her lower side. Jeewon's pussy starts queefing as soon as you penetrate it. You love the noise coming out of her cunt as you fuck her. "Hmmm, look at this tight pussy squirting all that lube," you say. "That's so hot," you say.

Jeewon grabs her boobs, jiggling them with her hands, and her moans are very out of breath now. You play with her pussy going in and out of it and enjoying the queefing sounds. You slowly pick up the pace, bulging your massive cock under her belly. "Fuck this little pussy, YESSSS, FUCKKK," Jeewon screams in between lots of moans.

"Look at that big cock under my stomach," Jeewon notices your bulging dick, massaging her belly in the area around it. You hit her pussy straight and deep, staying with your shaft buried all the way down her cunt. "Let's see it, let's see it," you enjoy your cock stabbing her insides as Jeewon runs her hands around the bulge under her tummy. "Poke me right there, please," she demands.

"AHHHHHH, OHHHHH FUCKKKK," Jeewon screams as you hit deep in her cervix; she is exhausted now and just enjoys you taking her pussy all the way in. A few liquids come out of her vagina, and you love it. "Oh God, are you squirting?" you ask her. "YESSSS," she screams as your cock dives into a pudddle of juices that get trapped between your shaft and gravity, pushing it back down inside Jeewon's fuckhole.

Jeewon laughs as you finger her little pussy. "Come here, baby, taste that cock full of squirt," you tell her. Jeewon gets up immediately, diving to suck your dick and lick your shaft from top to bottom, enjoying the taste of herself. "Dirty girl," you say to her as she chokes on your cock and bounces her tit with her franctic head-bobbing, smiling like the good whore she is.

As Jeewon finishes gagging on your cock, a coat of saliva fills it from top to bottom. She still has the strength for one final round, slapping her own ass as you look at her baby-making body. Jeewon puts her right leg up and gets herself into an acrobatic position on the couch for one last fucking. You slide your cock deep into her pussy from the beginning, making her moan softly.

You pound Jeewon fast and hard, making sure her boobs bounce as much as possible. At this point, Jeewon can barely feel her legs, just letting herself become a little cocksleeve for your monster cock. "Oh yes, oh yes," she moans as your balls clap against her clit and her boobs hit her chin. "That feels so fucking amazing," she says as your cock relentlessly attacks her cunt.

"OH YES, OH YES, OH YES," Jeewon says as you pound her balls deep. Her tits become massive bouncy pinballs at each thrust you give her; her clit stretches out like an opening mouth, and speaking of mouths, she opens her as far as she can to moan every time your cock fills her insides.

"CUM FOR ME, YES, CUM IN MY LITTLE PUSSY, PLEASE," Jeewon begs. Soon, you leave your signature inside it, coating her walls full of your white ink just as she wanted to. "Push it out," you tell her, spreading her pussy lips and bringing a cup where your cum lands after flowing out of her pussy.

Jeewon pushes the cum out of her pussy like a cow getting milked out of her tits. "Drop on your knees and pour it all over your big tits for me," you demand as Jeewon picks the cup up and fills her milkers full of your milk, licking her own nipples to taste your cum right out of her boobs as she gives you one final big smile.

"That was a lot of fun," Jeewon says. "So you had a lot of fun, you little slut; what was your favorite part?" you ask her. "Probably the piledriver loved watching your cock poking me from the inside," she said. "That's great; I hope I get to have more fun with you," you tell her. "Me too; that would be awesome," Jeewon replied.

"Last thing, I really love your smile," you say to Jeewon.

"And my big tits and little pussy too," Jeewon says, shaking her tiddies for one last time.

"Needless to say I love them."