#things going on. like. that makes sense too

[muli-wam]

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦　⁺ 　 . ✦

Swimmer!Suguru Geto was a very quiet and reserved man. He kept to himself, and kept his friend group small. He went to parties, entertained a very small number of woman who were lucky enough to get even five minutes of his time, but that life got too much sometimes.

When school was too much, Satoru’s voice too loud, or the blaring party playlists too grating, he slipped away to the only place that made sense—the university’s local pool, finding solitude in the sound of swishing water and the sharp yet familiar smell of chlorine.

Swimmer!Suguru Geto, being the captain of the swim team, had premium access to the pool so he could swim and practice whenever he pleased.

So to say he was surprised when he saw you swimming in the pool after closing hours was an understatement.

"Oh, the door was unlocked so I just thought-" you pause, looking around nervously while simultaneously trying to keep your neck above the water.

"I'll l just- I'll just go..." you trail before awkwardly making your way toward the edge of the pool.

Swimmer!Suguru Geto didn't know what to do except watch you swim towards him. Your wet baby hairs were in your face, your eyes bloodshot from the pool water. He had to admit, you were cute—too cute for your own good. It made your pathetic attempt to sneak away mildly endearing.

Suguru couldn't help but smirk as he watched you.

Your nerves were everywhere, as you were slightly insanely embarrassed by getting caught after hours in the pool by the smoking hot swim captain.

You weren’t sure if it was nerves or if you were simply the biggest klutz alive, but as you were halfway across the 5ft end of the pool, your foot slipped. Not a slight slip, no, you fully slipped and submerged under water.

You could swim—you think—but your jitteriness caused you to panic and the next thing you knew you started halfway drowning.

Panic bubbled in your chest, water filling your mouth and nostrils, hands flailing everywhere and your mind going absolutely blank.

This was it, you thought. This is how you die. Drowing in front of the hot swim captain who you didn't even know the name of.

Goodbye world, goodbye hot unnamed swim captain, and a very special goodbye to your dignity.

Swimmer!Suguru Geto chuckled for a moment as you "drowned" (your head was well above the water) before diving to save you. He felt bad for laughing, but the way your arms were flapping, splashing water to and fro, it was comical.

You reminded him of a little mouse.

With effortless precision, Swimmer!Suguru Geto cut through the water, barely making a splash as he reached for you and pulled you to the pools edge.

He holds you in his arms for a moment, chest to chest and your faces mere inches away. Your eyes were blown wide from the shock, but as you came to your senses, relief flooded you.

Swimmer!Suguru Geto looks down at you, his purple eyes soft, almost amused, as he brushes your wet hair from your face.

"Y'okay?" He whispers gently.

"Y-yeah," you say hoarsely, coughing slightly from the water in your throat.

Swimmer!Suguru Geto feels his heart pound in his chest. He hopes you don't feel it, prays you don't notice. The way you look at him—all doe-eyed, and breathless, and innocent like you didn't just break into the pool and start drowning.

You would have been dead if it wasn't for him.

Swimmer!Suguru Geto who effortlessly lifts you up and sets you down on the edge of the pool, positioning himself in front of your knees.

"Didn't think I'd be playing lifeguard today," he chuckles, leaning an arm next to your leg, causing you to verrrrry lowkey drool over his bulging muscles.

"Yeahh sorry for my...inconvenience," you nervously chuckle.

"Nah, you're good. You get a free pass 'cause you're cute," Suguru winks and thank god your face is red from all the pool water that went up your nose so he couldn't tell that you were blushing.

Swimmer!Suguru Geto who climbs out of the pool, his muscles flexing, droplets of water dripping down, down his abs and into the waistband of his jammers, making you wonder what's beneath them, though they left little to the imagination with how tight they were.

Swimmer!Suguru Geto who smirks at your oogling, but says nothing, opting to hold his hand out for you to grab while you stand up.

"Gotta make sure you don't slip again," he smirks at you, earning him a light slap on the arm.

Swimmer!Suguru Geto who walks with you towards the womans locker room as slowly as possible so he didn't have to depart with you just yet, though he claimed it was so you didn't fall and crack you head open.

In all honesty, Suguru enjoyed your company even though you've only just met under...unexpected circumstances, he liked the sound of your voice and the feeling of your skin on his. And not just in a sexual way, despite his few totally oblivious attempts to seduce you.

Swimmer!Suguru Geto internally pouts when you've both arrived to the entrance of the locker room.

"Well uh...I better go shower," you say hesitantly, the longing feeling of not wanting to depart with him also affecting you.

"Okay," he says, his face unreadable aside from his soft smile.

"Okay..."

"Don't drown."

"Uh- I won't," you laugh.

"Y'sure?" He raises a skeptical brow.

"Mhm," you nod, giggling.

"M'kay."

Swimmer!Suguru Geto who steps closer to you, tracing a finger along your jaw and lifting your chin.

"Bye, pretty girl," he whispers before walking away, leaving you baffled.

He walked away, giggling in his head like a schoolgirl, reminiscing your previous interaction. The way you blushed and giggled and clinged onto him as he swam you to safety. You were so cute, just like a little mouse.

But unfortunately, when Swimmer!Suguru Geto was halfway to his dorm did it dawn on him that he never asked for your name. He smirked to himself.

Perfect excuse to see you again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦　⁺ 　 . ✦

A/n: why do I hate the word "jammers" sm 😭 like I would say speedo but I js cant imagine him wearing that 😭 anyway srry for the kinda long wait ;-;

Series Masterlist

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[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤCOLD SHOULDERㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Batboys x Fem Reader

☆⁠ HEADCANON : When You Give Them the Cold Shoulder.

☆⁠ CHARACTERS : Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Male Barbara Gordon, Male Stephanie Brown, Male Cassandra Cain, Terry McGinnis.

☆⁠ NOTES : English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

— BRUCE WAYNE ⋆

Bruce doesn’t do well with emotional games—he’s a man of logic, deduction, and shadows. So when you stop talking to him, no good morning kiss, no sarcastic remark about the news over coffee, no goodbye as he leaves for a mission—you can feel the shift.

He notices instantly.

He doesn’t say anything at first. That’s the terrifying part. He just looks at you. Like he’s dissecting you. Like you’re a crime scene.

“Something wrong?” he asks, voice even, mask already half on.

You shrug and walk away.

Bruce is bothered, but he doesn’t chase. Not yet. He waits, watches. You don’t text him that night. You don’t check in. You leave the mansion before he wakes up.

By day three, you find your favorite flowers at your doorstep. A small envelope. His handwriting:

“I’m not good at this. But I care. Whatever I did—talk to me.”

He doesn’t beg. Bruce doesn’t beg. But his apology is in the way the manor seems colder without him trying to sit beside you. It’s in the quiet presence at the edge of your room, waiting for you to just look at him.

When you finally crack, he just opens his arms and says quietly, “Next time… yell at me. Don’t shut me out. I can’t fix what I don’t see.”

— DICK GRAYSON ⋆

Dick panics the second he realizes you’re giving him the cold shoulder. You’re usually so warm, so expressive—and now you’re cold? Quiet? Passive-aggressively sipping your drink and not laughing at his dumb joke?

He’s spiraling.

“Wait, what’d I do? Babe—babe, I know that look. That’s the ‘you’re dead to me’ look—what’d I do?”

You don’t answer.

He physically follows you around the apartment like a lost puppy. Tries to “accidentally” run into you in the kitchen. Holds up his phone like:

“Look. This meme? That I sent? You didn’t even react. You always react.”

By the end of the day, he’s crawling into bed beside you like a kicked dog, poking your shoulder.

“Listen. I know I messed up. I probably messed up bad. Just tell me, okay? I’ll make it up to you. Dinner, flowers, matching onesies, whatever you want. Please just talk to me again—I’m going crazy over here.”

Dick’s the kind of guy who feels the silence like a scream. He doesn’t stop until you finally crack and yell at him—and he just sighs in relief. “Thank God. You’re talking. Yell at me all you want, babe, just talk.”

— JASON TODD ⋆

Jason is... not the most emotionally mature guy in the room. So when you go quiet on him? He clocks it right away.

His first instinct is: “The hell is her problem?”

His second: “What did I do?”

His third: “…Okay, fine. Two can play that game.”

So now it’s a Cold War.

You ignore him? He ignores you harder. You roll your eyes? He scoffs. You sleep with your back to him? He “accidentally” hogs the blanket.

But here’s the thing: Jason’s bluffing. He’s miserable. He’s sitting on the fire escape chain-smoking because he’s too stubborn to just apologize first. He types out ten different “hey princess…” texts and deletes them all.

When you finally call him out—maybe you explode, maybe you just break down and say why you’re mad—Jason goes quiet. Real quiet.

Then he sighs. Pulls you into a hug.

“…I’m sorry, okay?” he mumbles into your hair. “I’m not good at the soft shit. But I love you. Don’t shut me out like that. It makes me… fuckin’ mad.”

Next time? He apologizes faster. Still grumpy about it. But faster.

— DAMIAN WAYNE ⋆

Damian refuses to acknowledge the cold shoulder at first.

You ignore him? Fine. He acts like he doesn’t care.

You roll your eyes? “Tt.”

You don’t respond to his usual sarcastic quips? “Clearly you’ve lost your sense of humor.”

But after a day or two? The cracks show.

He brings you your favorite tea and doesn’t say anything about it. Sits in your space and watches you out of the corner of his eye like a stray cat too proud to beg for food.

By day three, he’s visibly tense. The only sign of his growing unease is the way he overworks in the training room and snaps at everyone else.

Finally, he corners you. Not aggressively—but intensely. Arms crossed, lips thin, standing in your doorway like an angry little kitten.

“What did I do?” he asks, voice flat. “You’re angry. I can tell.”

He’s blunt. He doesn’t beg. But there’s a desperation in the way he hovers. When you finally tell him what hurt you, his jaw clenches. His apology is awkward but sincere.

“…I did not intend to hurt you. That was not my aim. But I apologize nonetheless.”

And then, softer: “Please don’t shut me out again. It’s… difficult to function when you are upset with me.”

Damian shows love through action. So after that? He acts. Flowers from your favorite place in the city. A sketch of you he drew at 3 a.m. A stubborn but heartfelt vow to “do better.”

Even if he still tts.

— BARRY GORDON ⋆

Barry is used to being in control—so when you go silent on him, it throws him hard.

He notices right away. And at first? He’s cocky. Teasing.

“Oh, we’re mad? What, you jealous of Supergirl again?”

You glare.

“…That was a joke.”

But when you don’t laugh—or worse, don’t even look at him—Barry starts pacing. Literally.

He’ll spend all night analyzing the conversation that led to this.

“Was it the mission? Did I interrupt you? Did I mansplain something again? God, I did, didn’t I?”

He’ll call. Text. Show up at your window. Tap the glass like a wet cat.

When you finally let him in, he talks a mile a minute.

“Okay, okay, I know I’m a jackass. I was being flirty at the gala, but that was just protocol! Diplomacy, babe! I love you!”

If you stay cold even then, he’ll finally drop the charm. Get real quiet.

“…Just tell me how to fix it. Please. I’ll do anything. Even sit through Titanic again.”

You do not want to know how fast he hugs you once you cave. Barry loves loud, but he hurts quiet.

— STEPHEN BROWN ⋆

Stephen is devastated.

He thrives off your attention. Your warmth. Your laughter. So when you suddenly go cold on him, he spirals.

First step: Denial.

“Ha ha… you’re just messing with me, right?”

You aren’t.

Second step: Drama.

“Okay, okay, is this about the glitter incident? Because in my defense, I thought it was washable—”

Still silence.

Third step: Crybaby.

He lays on the floor. Arm draped over his face.

“God is punishing me.”

Stephen texts you like:

💔

why have u forsaken me

[voice memo of him singing “All By Myself” into a fan]

Eventually, though, the jokes fade. He gets quiet. You find him on the fire escape, legs dangling, hoodie over his head.

“…I hate this,” he mutters when you finally approach. “Not knowing what I did. Not being able to fix it. You not… being you with me.”

He sniffs, trying to play it off.

“I know I’m a dumbass sometimes. But I swear I love you. Like, a lot. Like, "I’d let you kick me" love you.”

Once you forgive him? He clings.

“Never do that again,” he whispers into your neck. “Cold Shoulder You is my least favorite version.”

Also, you catch him journaling later:

“Today I almost died. Emotionally. Y/n was mad. But I survived. Barely.”

— CASSIAN CAIN ⋆

“…”

He doesn’t know what to do.

Cassian isn’t just a man of few words. He’s a man of zero words when it comes to emotional conflict.

So when you go cold—when your body shifts slightly away, when your eyes don’t meet his—he notices immediately.

It hits him like a blow. He feels it in the air.

And he panics. Internally. But outside, he’s just still.

He brings you small things. Your favorite candy on the counter. A neatly folded blanket on your side of the couch. No words. Just… presence.

He’ll sit nearby but not touch you. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed.

Eventually, he hands you a note. Folded. With his childish, naive handwriting:

“I did not mean to hurt you. Please tell me how to fix it.”

When you do finally speak, even if it’s angry or tearful or sharp—he listens. Soaks it in. His head bowed, his expression focused, like every syllable is precious.

He doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t justify. Just nods with teary eyes.

And later that night, he says it for real. Quiet. Low.

“…sorry.”

Cassian doesn’t need words to show he loves you—but when he does speak, he means it with his entire soul.

— TERRY MCGINNIS ⋆

Terry’s first thought when you start giving him the cold shoulder is: “Oh god. Not again.”

Because he’s used to things going wrong. He’s used to messing things up. He has that subconscious fear that everything good in his life is temporary, especially you.

So when you stop responding to his texts, or start leaving the room when he walks in, he goes into lowkey panic mode—but tries to play it cool.

He’ll hover. Try to act casual. Lean on your doorway like he isn’t dying inside.

“You good?” he asks.

You nod.

“…Right. That’s convincing.”

He won’t push. He’s too scared you’ll say it’s over.

But one night, he shows up at your place in the Batsuit. Mask off, hair a mess, eyes tired.

“You don’t have to forgive me right away. But just tell me what I did. Please.”

There’s a vulnerability in Terry that breaks your heart. Once you finally talk, he holds your face like you’re glass.

“I’ll fix it. I swear to God, I’ll fix it.”

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. don't copy, use or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[yanderenightmare]

The Rainbow as Boyfriends

♡ AN: from the Promptlist

♡ TW: fluff, different types of drugs, really soft yandere, if yandere at all

♡ FEM reader

Red is loud with a passion that comes across as aggressive to some. He’s charismatic and likeable, but can also be both narcissistic and judgmental, with a habit of butting in where he’s not wanted and flaking when the responsibility becomes too much.

He’s got red hair, but it might be fake—you’re not sure—gelled up in needles, and a cut on his right brow he most definitely had coming. 'Cause if you think he’s loud on the regular, you can bet he’s even louder when drunk. And Red loves getting drunk—bar-hopping and clubbing, he'll drink his fill and dance until the sweat pours, but will just as quickly square up and fight someone until they're both thrown out or taken and thrown inside the drunk tank. 

He’s got bloody knuckles and bruises everywhere—on top of tattoos he’s been collecting since he was fourteen—a patchwork of poor decisions he looks back on fondly. 

He’s got a lot of opinions and dies on random hills every day, but doesn’t remember any of them come morning. Fighting is a frivolous thing to him—he doesn’t think too much of it, and will sling his arms around the shoulders of someone he soccer-punched the night before. 

He doesn’t always get when or why people are upset with him, brushing it off, thinking they’ll get over it. That’s not to say he doesn’t apologize—he does—throws them around like they cost him nothing, because they don't. And he doesn’t get how that isn’t good enough.

He doesn’t bear any grudges himself, and those he does bear he buries so deep within himself that he never ever has to think about them—ones such as the torn relationship he has with his father and his first love. Forgotten. No longer his problem. 

You don’t think you’ve ever really seen him angry, but you can say the same for happy, and that's why you can't really bring yourself to fall in love with him, knowing you're only going to get yourself hurt. He’s too destructive to hold onto—always with a bright, big smile on his face, even when someone is shouting and throwing fists at him. 

You don’t know… You think he cries in bed when he can’t sleep. 

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Gojo ♡ HQ – Kuro, Atsumu ♡ BLLK – Shido ♡ DS – Akaza, Sanemi ♡ WB – Togame

Orange is warm. Always pinging you if you want to go sunbathing.

As expected, he’s tan with ginger curls, freckle-faced and muscly, seizing any and all opportunities to take off his shirt. He’s a stickler for sunscreen, though, carrying one on him at all times and interrogating you about wearing it to the point of applying it without asking.

He hasn’t got a single tattoo, not even so much as a wave, despite his love for the beach—he's just never thought to spend money on it. But what he lacks in tattoos, he more than makes up for in scars. He’s a sporty guy—sort of reckless—happy-go-lucky, be it with a ball, frisbee, or a surfboard, and it has led to some interesting accidents and several stitches.

He’s also an avid ocean preserver. Collecting plastic from the sands and helping wildlife back into the water. He brought you along once, at midnight, when the tide was low. You'd collected stranded starfish and tossed them back into the waves.

You were drunk, but ever since you’ve been struck with this sense of guilt you’ve never had before. To think that starfish actually dry up and die once the tide pulls out is a horror you didn’t need to know.

But it only goes to show how sweet a guy Orange really is. He never made it to college because he’d already decided what he wanted to do a long time ago, planning on taking over the beach cafe where he’s worked his entire life. He calls the owner there his uncle, even though they aren’t related, and is practically running the place already.

He’s a simple guy with simple plans and simple dreams, but at the same time, you can’t help but feel as though he’s smarter than all the rest of you. He’s the guy who has it all figured out. You can’t tell if he’s actively decided to let go of all bigger ideas and dreams, or if he’s been that enlightened since birth.

In any case, you stick around him, hoping that some of that peace of mind of his will rub off on you. Everyone’s so caught up in being famous today that you forget you have real life to live.

But out here, on the beach with him, phone tucked away in a locker, toes in the sand with no makeup on except for sunscreen, and no bustling city cars or club chatter, just frivolous laughter and the sound of splashing waves, you can be content with the fact that no one knows who you are. 

♡ BNHA – Kirishima, Shoto, Denki, Hawks, Natsuo, FatGum, Mirio ♡ JJK – Yuji ♡ HQ – Yamaguchi, Hinata, Sugawara, Bokuto, Osamu, Ushijima, Ukai ♡ CSM – Denji ♡ BLLK – Nagi ♡ DS – Tanjiro ♡ WB – Umemiya

Yellow was born rich and grew up wild for no reason.

He’s daddy’s golden boy, but acts and dresses like a gang member every time he leaves the house outside of any and all family occasions, galas, and charity events.

He’s like Bruce Wayne, without the crime-fighting, and if Batman were just his street name. 

Not that you real street urchins don’t spot him a mile away. But hey, he’s fun and likes spending money, so you let him hang out despite him being from the other side of town.

He likes riding fast cars and taking fast drugs and is surprisingly good at drag racing. Actually, he’s the best. Blew every single one of you away when he took on the previous best racer. You thought he was high on something and acting stupid, but no. Won fair and square like it was nothing to him.

It all makes sense when you learn his father’s the owner of a major automobile conglomerate. As his son, he’s got several fast cars—several of each big brand, new models and retro ones, collectors' items and ones that are personally customized.

Your jaw is on the floor as he takes you through the garage. You have to scoff at the term—garage—as if it isn’t a whole underground parking lot beneath his house.

You’re surprised to find out he actually does work on them. In overalls with a wrench, oil stains and all. 

He tells you he always dreamt of being a real racer, running his own team right alongside Red Bull and McLaren. But when you ask him why he doesn’t, he tells you dreams are for poor people—that cars are a business, not for play.

You don’t know. It’s the first time you fully realize how truly different the two of you are. You’d ignored the expensive clothing and salon hair up until then. But now it was suddenly all you could see.

You’re just the flag girl who initiated his first race—the girlfriend he doesn’t introduce to his parents because he has no real intention of staying with you for long. So you decide to rip off the band-aid and break up with him.

He’s dumbfounded.

But just like the golden boy he is, he’ll win you back by sparing no expense.

♡ BNHA – Denki, Touya, Hawks, Natsuo ♡ JJK – Gojo ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Lev, Oikawa, Atsumu ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Rin ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ DS – Doma

Green is an earthy guy. He knows everything about any botanical type you can name—which can overwinter, which can survive with minimal sun, which needs water every day. He can even bring flowers back from the dead. He’s like a witch doctor for plants.

His parents own the flower shop he manages, as well as the plantation from which the flowers come.

You start working there, sort of on a whim, just after college. You don’t know why, you’ve never considered yourself especially green-fingered, but they were hiring, and you, despite having a degree, didn’t really know what you were or wanted to be doing yet.

Green is about your age, so it’s a very chill job. And the plants make for nice scenery and a pleasant aroma as you try to figure out your life. In fact, it’s so nice you end up getting a little lost in it.

And Green is so laid back, you end up becoming good friends, and after seeing the way he carries those big bags of soil on his back so easily, you end up becoming a little more than that, despite him being your boss. So, with the benefits being as good as the salary, there wasn’t much to encourage you to leave.

But how could you have known?

You thought he was a normal guy until he casually took you into one of the greenhouses on the far side of the plantation on day, just to help him with some plants there he’d told you, only for it to be a whole ass weed garden you hadn’t known anything about.

The salary suddenly makes more sense then.

He’s so normal about it, you’re almost convinced it isn’t illegal, the way he adjusts the sprinklers for a light drizzle, and tells you to check each plant for any damage and disease.

You didn’t know if you should say anything at first, but of course you do—asking him what it’s all for. To which he responds by just smiling that dopey smile of his, bringing you in for a lazy hug while placing a soft kiss on your forehead, then telling you it’s best not to ask any questions.

You don’t know… but it sort of feels like what he really meant to say was Shut up and do your job.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Denki, Kirishima, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Mahito, Gojo, Yuji, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Yamaguchi, Hinata, Sugawara, Kuro, Bokuto, Atsumu, Osamu, Ukai ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ WB – Kiryu, Umemiya, Togame

Blue is an artist—a tortured one.

Though not a particularly poor one.

He’s also a young entrepreneur who started his career in art curation while still in middle school, and therefore lives alone in his penthouse apartment, never once having ever bothered to turn on the lights.

He’s a real hermit with a tendency to fall in love with his own depression.

He can spend entire days in bed, awake, rolling around, thinking, wondering why he feels the way he feels, even though he knows that getting up would probably solve half of it. But when he finally does get out of bed, he simply wraps himself in the duvet and relocates to the sofa. 

It’s a cocoon, he insists—his metamorphosis. He’ll come out when the sun goes down again. All night long in front of the canvas. So many shades of blue on his palette—it’s enough to get lost in.

You’re his assistant, but you feel like a nanny half the time. You have no idea how he’s managed the firm so far—he doesn’t even step out of his home, let alone go to any galleries where he can actually do business.

On top of that, he never answers his goddamn phone—all but forcing you to make the trip over. Shaking your head, you always buy dinner on the way, knowing he’s probably forgotten about it. Thinking you’ll hit two birds with one stone, you just make for you both.

You know the passcode to the door, and so you step right in like you live there—in fact, with how often you're there, sleeping over and tidying up, you're at the point you're fighting the urge to call it home.

Finding his phone uncharged in the middle of the floor, you sigh. You’re not sure, but you think he does it on purpose. Ignoring your texts, knowing you’ll be on your way.

He heard you come in, but doesn’t step away from his work, listening to you pad up the stairs to his studio. He’s in a bathrobe, hair greasy, nearly matted to his head, and just like a mother, you tell him to go march his ass into the shower while you make some food.

At least he actually listens to you when you come over. But my, he’s a handful. Over dinner, he even asks you to just move in for real, given that you’re already doing the job of a wife.

But he writes your checks, and they’re well beyond what you’d make if you were an actual nanny, so you guess you’ll put up with him for a little while longer. 

♡ BNHA – Shoto, Shigaraki, Touya, Hawks, young Aizawa, Shinso, Overhaul, Amajiki ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo, Megumi, Yuuta, Choso, Higuruma ♡ HQ – Kageyama, Kuro, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins, Suna ♡ CSM – Aki, Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Ego ♡ DS – Zenitsu

Indigo is a guy who never sleeps. He’s all late nights, dark clothes, and too many drinks to count, and yet never seems too drunk.

He’s like a bottomless well. A wishing well of sorts that doesn’t mind listening to all your drunken ramblings while the two of you sit on the floor after the party’s over. 

You should have shut up hours ago, but he doesn’t mind. He just watches you silently as you spill all your deepest, darkest secrets—a small smile on his lips, you can’t see. But his intentions aren’t bad. He just finds you cute, is all. 

He’s at every party—outside, leaning against the back of the house with a cigarette between his lips. The darkness of the night makes his eye color impossible to place—they just look black.

You seek him out for reasons you’re not too sure of yet. Or… the mysterious hot guy—how could you refuse?

You’re tipsy, giggling, all smiles and more, twirling and accepting his offer of a puff with your lips and not your hands, so that he has to hold it for you. He smiles, and this time you see it, further spurring you on.

You ask him then and there, in the night, to go skinny dipping with you alone. And he just hums, lighting another cig, telling you to lead the way.

When he removes his shirt, you spot the tattoos in the moonlight. It’s strange—they’re all the girly type, but suit him so well—his astrology symbols, a heart, the infinity sign, an arrow, a flower, an anime cloud. You don’t know why, but it’s hot for some reason, like the doodles you'd make in a textbook instead of writing notes.

He isn’t what you would call a pretty boy, but he is pretty. Dark-eyed with long lashes, you might accuse him of wearing mascara, and yet it doesn’t run down his pink-dusted cheeks when you’re in the water.

Skin to skin to keep warm, naked and held on his lap, sharing kisses while bobbing in the lake, everything quiet except for breaths and the soft splashing around you, so close now you can finally spot the true color of his eyes—dark, dark, dark indigo blue. 

It might be the drink in your system, but you swear, that way he looks at you—it’s enough to make you fall in love on the spot.

♡ BNHA – Shoto, Touya, Shinso, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Geto, Megumi, Toji, Choso ♡ HQ – Suna, Kageyama, Iwaizumi, Sakusa ♡ CSM – Aki, Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo ♡ AOT – Eren ♡ WB – Suo ♡ HxH – young Chrollo

Violet is an old soul, and yet a never-aging one at the same time. A soft, timeless presence—mild, like a breath of fresh air, a gentle breeze ruffling your hair. 

Far removed from town, between a forest and a flower field runs a white gravel road, and at the end of it stands his cottage—pale bricks and ashen rooftiles that all but disappear within the foliage growing up and over it. And yet, peaking through the leaves and flowers are cute windows and a round wooden door leading inside.

Behind a picket fence connected to the house is a little garden where he grows tomatoes, salad, and carrots, which he’ll use to feed the fluffle of bunnies living out on the field. They all know and trust him, and so when he takes you through it for the first time, you feel convinced you’re dating a faun.

Everything about him is like a fairytale… Doe-eyed and silly, he’ll lie you down in the wildflowers and grass to watch clouds, both on your backs, giving them names while holding your hand. He’ll weave you a flower crown and name you a princess, and though it’s all odd and new to you, there isn’t a single thing about it that isn’t perfectly perfect.

He likes scented candles, incense, and organic food. He doesn’t touch alcohol or meat, but you’re very sure he’s got something in his tea and puts it in everything he bakes.

You don’t mind it. Or well… you’re a little sceptical when he first introduces you to mushrooms, but you trust him enough to try.

You don’t think you’ve ever really felt the forest before. Touching the trees as you pass them, feeling the deep wrinkles of bark run under your palm—it’s like the skin of something ancient. After taking a closer look, you swear you can spot the faces.

The wind is like a song, and the river sings along. You don’t know, you feel so small, but in a good way, in a way that everything around you suddenly becomes transcendent.

You look back at him, and hidden there, in the trees, you don’t even realize, but you’ve forgotten about the rest of the world.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Denki, Kirishima, Hawks, Shinso, Natsuo, Amajiki ♡ JJK – Yuji, Megumi, Yuuta, Choso ♡ HQ – Sugawara, Kuro, Bokuto, Osamu ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Nagi, Bachira ♡ DS – Tomioka, Tanjiro ♡ WB – Kiryu, Nirei, Umemiya, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[jupiterpilgrim]

Sovereign Desires

Wonyoung x Karina x Yuna x Sullyoon x male reader

word count: 15K

commissioned fic

Boredom doesn't seem to go away in the office. You think that one day you will get used to it, that day never comes. Slumped in your ergonomic chair, pretending to analyze quarterly reports while actually doomscrolling through an endless feed, you would give anything to shake things up in your life right now. Another Tuesday, another slow march towards the sweet release of 5 PM. Then your phone, lying screen-down on the desk amidst coffee rings and scattered pens, buzzes.

You barely register it. Probably just another Slack notification from accounting about the missing TPS reports, or a group chat exploding with irrelevant memes. You sigh, ready to silence it without looking.

But when you flip it over, it's not from accounting.

It's a DM.

There's a name.

And holy shit, not just any name. It's Karina. Yeah, the Karina. From Aespa. Except the contact isn't her stage name. It's the one you punched in years ago, still stubbornly saved under her actual name: Jimin. That old, familiar ache, that weird nostalgic flutter, tightens in your chest. Suddenly, you're not staring at sales projections; you're seventeen again, a sweaty, nervous wreck on some sun-baked summer sidewalk, every fiber of your being screaming just kiss her, you idiot, just do it, while you probably mumble something about the weather.

You blink, hard, because this makes zero sense. You haven't spoken to her for years. And the way it ended… a full-on, no-explanation ghosting after that spectacularly cursed attempt at a hookup. What a fucked day.

It wasn't even like you actually did anything. You didn't even get that far. You’d just managed to get her clothes off, lips still slick from making out, hands trembling as you lifted her onto your lap on that beat-up couch. The second your dick came out, she just… panicked. Froze up like she’d just seen a goddamn monster crawl out of your jeans. She let out this shaky, nervous laugh, mumbled something about a curfew she’d totally forgotten. But you know. Oh, you know exactly what it is. The sheer, improbable size of it. That sick, familiar twist in your gut as you realize it has happened again. You weren't even fully hard yet. Doesn’t matter.

She ran. Bolts like the place is on fire.

You can’t even really blame her (okay, maybe a little). You're always the weird, skinny dude, the one people probably figure is packing an innie until proven otherwise. And Karina (Jimin, back then), she has this effortless cool-girl vibe that just makes your brain short-circuit whenever she so much as glances your way for too longl. You try, so fucking hard, not to fall for her. Fail. Spectacularly. And then that one chance, your one shot to escape the friendzone, gets instantly demoted to a horror story she probably now dishes to her bandmates between grueling dance practices and sold-out stadium shows.

Except… she's actually messaging you. Right now.

hey

it’s been a while huh?

You jolt upright in your chair so fast your colleague in the next cubicle peers over the divider with a raised eyebrow. Her profile pic is pure idol perfection: full glam, hair in those impossibly soft, expensive-looking waves, eyes that are somehow both icy and flirty. This isn't Jimin anymore. This is Karina of Aespa, a literal K-pop goddess. The kind of woman entire nations fantasize about from behind their phone screens, and she’s DMing you, a random office drone, like you’d just casually bumped into her at a 7/11.

i was thinking about you the other day

kinda random but i’d like to catch up

you free this weekend?

No emojis. No awkward apologies or explanations. Just straight to it, like those six years of absolute silence haven't even happened.

Your chest feels tight, but not in a bad way. More like a champagne bottle about to pop. A million questions scream in your head, why now? what the hell is this about? but your thumbs are already a blur across the screen:

yeah

just tell me when and where

The typing bubble appears, blinks, disappears, then reappears. Teasing you. You wonder if she remembers. That night. That… thing about you. She has to. No way she’s forgotten something like that. Maybe she thinks you’ve… grown into it? Learned to manage it better? Maybe she's curious to see.

Then:

okay :)

I’ll send the details soon

looking forward to it

You stare at your phone screen long after her name vanishes, the glow of the monitor reflecting in your wide eyes. The phantom sensation of her weight, her presence, still echoes in your lap like a deeply ingrained muscle memory. The way she has of making any room, any space, subtly bend around her. The way you used to bend around her, orbiting like a damn fool, just waiting for her to look your way and actually mean it.

And now, impossibly, she's looking again.

—

The address pops up just after noon, no preamble. Just a pin-drop in Gangnam with a bar name you don’t recognize (some sleek little English mashup that screams exclusivity), the kind of place influencers pretend to discover and rich people keep quiet about. You Google it anyway. The front’s barely labeled, no neon sign, just this faint etched logo over heavy black glass doors, like you’re supposed to already know where it is. One of those underground cocktail lounges, dim and expensive and deliberately vague.

Of course she’d pick somewhere like this.

You get there ten minutes early, which feels both desperate and practical. The room’s all moody lighting and brass. Like stepping into a perfume ad: everything smells expensive. Candles flicker in tiny glass jars at each low table, and there’s jazz playing, soft but rhythmic. You start scanning the booths, heart ticking like a countdown, nervous in a way that feels kind of humiliating. You're not in high school anymore.

But then you see her.

She's in a corner booth, half-shadowed by one of those gold-bar dividers. Hair down, silky black and parted to the side, soft curls kissing her collarbones. She's dressed like she knew exactly how this would go: long-legged, crossed at the knee, thighs poured into a leather mini-skirt that barely creases when she moves. A sheer black blouse with little sparkly threadwork running through it like constellations, the fabric so thin it flirts with the curves of her bra underneath. Not scandalous. Not vulgar. Just perfectly engineered to hold your gaze. One hand’s around her drink, some golden thing in a faceted crystal glass, and the other’s thumbing her phone like she’s half-focused, tapping fast. She looks up just once—sees you.

Smiles.

“Wow,” she says as you approach, rising halfway, fingers brushing your wrist as she gestures for you to sit across from her. “You really came.”

“Of course I did,” you say, but your voice is almost inaudible. You clear your throat and try again. “Jimin.”

Her eyes widen just slightly. The smile twitches. Not fake, just surprised. “Haven’t heard that in a while.”

“Still your name, right?”

“It is,” she says, sitting back down, crossing her legs the other way, and you catch the flash of glossy black boots under the table, knee-high, sharp-heeled, definitely not made for walking. “Only a few people still get to use it though.”

You slide into the seat across from her, still trying not to stare, but fuck it’s hard. She’s… glowy. Confident in a way that makes you feel like you’re dressed wrong even though you picked this outfit twice and stood in the mirror trying poses before heading out. She doesn’t need to try, doesn’t need to check the mirror; she knows what she’s doing. Every part of her outfit, her body language, the tone of her laughter, it’s all loaded like performance, but smoother. Natural. She's grown into it. Into this idol thing.

You’re still staring when she lifts her glass toward you.

“Drink?” she offers. “First one’s on me.”

“You paying?” you ask, raising a brow.

“For sure,” she says, grinning. “This idol thing pays well.”

A waiter materializes like magic. She orders another of whatever she’s having, something citrusy with gin, you catch the word yuzu, and you mutter your preference like it matters. It’s one of those bars where they probably judge you for ordering a beer.

“Damn,” you say after a beat, glancing at her with a crooked smile. “So this is your idea of casual now?”

She shrugs, sips. “This is how I dress when I want someone to look at me.”

You swallow hard. “It’s working.”

There’s a beat. A silence that stretches long enough for your drink to arrive. Her eyes never leave yours.

“You’re still such a flirt,” she says, amused. “But you’ve mellowed out. You used to be way more nervous.”

“Oh, I’m absolutely panicking inside,” you admit, taking a sip that burns and soothes at the same time. “I just got better at hiding it.”

She laughs, and the sound is all warm honey. It hits some buried part of you, it fucks with you.

“So how’ve you been?” she asks, smoothing a hand over her thigh. “Besides taller, obviously.”

You snort. “You’re still taller than me.”

“By this much,” she says, holding two fingers apart. “And the boots.”

“Even without the boots.”

“Some things don’t change.”

You both sip. And then the reminiscing begins. You start talking about school, about mutual friends, about the time you both got high and watched bad dramas all night, quoting lines and making each other laugh so hard she snorted kimchi soup out of her nose. She acts scandalized when you bring that up.

“I told you never to mention that again,” she groans, burying her face in her hand.

“And yet here we are.”

“Blackmail. That’s what this is.”

The drinks keep coming. You’re halfway through your third when you notice she keeps checking her phone. Quick glances. A tap here and there. She’s not scrolling for fun, no, it’s deliberate. Controlled. You figure it must be work. Maybe her manager checking in. Maybe something about her schedule. It doesn’t seem suspicious at first. You’re too busy watching the way her lips wrap around her straw, how her hand drapes over the rim of her glass, fingers tapping idly. You wonder how many guys have sat across from her like this, thinking maybe this time I get to take her home.

You’re not even sure what this is. Is it a catch-up? A date? Just nostalgia? But she invited you. She dressed like this. She's been holding eye contact like it’s a game. You’re buzzed now, not sloppy, just loose enough to lean in, resting your chin on your hand.

“You remember,” you say softly, “That time you were at my house and we kissed?”

Jimin looks up. Caught off guard. But not embarrassed. Her smile is smaller this time. Realer.

“Of course I do,” she murmurs. “You tasted like lemon soda.”

“You ran. You ran before we could... You know.”

“I had a panic attack,” she says, surprisingly blunt. “Didn’t even realize it until I was halfway down the street. I thought it was… I don’t know. Too much.”

“Was it because of me?”

She’s quiet. Her eyes dip to her drink. Then her phone buzzes again. She glances at it. This time her face changes (just a flicker). A subtle switch behind her eyes. Something has clicked.

“No,” she says finally, meeting your gaze again. “It wasn’t you. Not really. And I really, really want to redeem myself with you.”

But she doesn’t explain. Just downs the rest of her drink in one go and flags the waiter for another.

You mean to press more. To ask what that meant. But before you can, her phone buzzes one more time. She doesn’t check it. Just flips it over, screen-down. And leans forward with a little smile, as if she’s about to say something intimate, something she’s been holding in for a while. Her fingers trail along the rim of your glass, close but not quite touching yours.

Then she says: “Hey. You trust me, right?”

You say it without hesitation. Maybe it's the alcohol humming in your bloodstream or the way she's looking at you; clear, serious, a softness in her expression that strips away the glamor and shows just a little of the girl you remember. “Yeah,” you murmur, letting the word settle in your throat, simple and solid. “I trust you.”

That’s all she needs. Her eyes flicker like she’s confirming something to herself, then her fingers swipe across her phone, firing off a text with no explanation. You catch the little smirk at the corner of her lips, not playful, not cruel… something more satisfied. Purposeful. She slides her phone back into her clutch and stands, straightening the hem of her skirt. Her legs look even longer when she moves. The heel of her boot clicks once on the floor.

“Come on,” she says, brushing a hand lightly over your shoulder as she walks past you. “There’s a car waiting.”

You follow, blinking through the slow haze of three drinks and a thousand unspoken thoughts. Outside, it’s colder than you expect, the air sharp against your cheeks, but the car is there, sleek and black, window-tinted with the kind of purr you associate with rich people and K-drama antagonists. The driver doesn’t ask your name. Just opens the door.

You slide in after her, trying not to let your thigh brush hers too hard even though she’s made no effort to keep distance. Inside the car, the seats smell like leather and faint perfume. Karina settles in beside you, adjusting the strap of her bag, checking her lipstick in the reflection of her phone screen. She catches you looking.

“What?” she asks, amusement in her tone, head tilting.

“Where are we going?”

She leans back, one knee brushing yours, fingers sliding into her hair like she’s trying to undo the tension at her scalp. “To an apartment. Somewhere we can actually talk without everyone staring. Somewhere more comfortable.”

“Is it yours?”

She shrugs, teasing. “Partially.”

“Must be nice.”

“You’ve got no idea,” she grins, and then something flickers behind her eyes again, calmer now, more vulnerable. “I meant what I said back there. About redeeming myself.”

You glance at her. Her knees are still crossed, hands folded loosely in her lap. She’s not fidgeting. She looks totally in control. But her voice is quieter now, measured.

“I really fucked up back then,” she says. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I know I did. You probably felt… rejected.”

You hesitate. Then nod. “Yeah. I did.”

She turns slightly toward you, just enough to face you head-on. “And I get it now. It wasn’t just me walking out—it was me making you feel like something was wrong with you. Like you were some freak.”

You don’t say anything. The car’s too quiet. The engine hums beneath you, smooth, and the city lights flicker through tinted windows. You focus on her words, the precision of them, the way she’s not sugarcoating any of it.

“I used to think everything had to be this perfect fantasy,” she continues. “And I wasn’t ready for something real. I wasn’t ready for… you.”

You exhale slowly. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“Okay,” she says, "but I still want to make it right.”

The rest of the ride passes in that charged silence, the kind that isn't awkward but thick with implication, like something's about to tip. You’re not entirely sure what you expected when she messaged you, but this? This is surreal. You're tipsy and hot under your collar, knees bouncing slightly, wondering if you should be nervous, or excited, or both.

You settle on both.

The car slows in front of a tall, anonymous building with glass that reflects too cleanly to be anything short of expensive. A valet greets her with a nod. You follow her inside, past a lobby that smells like orchids and designer soap. The elevator is silent, smooth, rising so fast it barely registers.

When the doors open, she leads you into an apartment that looks more like a photoshoot set than somewhere someone actually lives. Polished hardwood floors, ambient recessed lighting, modern furniture in sharp angles and plush velvet textures. There’s a huge floor-to-ceiling window spilling moonlight across the living room, and a minibar tucked beside a long black couch. She moves through it like she’s done this a hundred times before.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she says, stepping behind the bar and reaching for bottles you can’t even pronounce. “Shoes off, if you want. The floor’s heated.”

You toe your sneakers off and sink into the couch, running your hand over the fabric absently. Your head's spinning a little now, and it’s not just the alcohol. It’s her. It’s the fact that she brought you here, into this private space, dressed like a fantasy and saying everything anyone would like to hear. The lines are blurred and blurring further.

She turns back with one glass, something crystalline and amber glowing under the lights. She hands one to you with a smile.

“What is it?” you ask, sniffing it. It smells like honey and something herbal.

“Something special,” she says, settling beside you on the couch. “It’s got a little kick. But it’ll help you… relax. Feel good. Get in the mood.”

You blink. “Get in the mood?”

Her smile doesn’t falter. “For tonight. For me. Just drink.”

You hesitate, but only for a second. You're already floating. Her thigh is pressed to yours now, warm through the thin fabric of your pants. You take a sip. It's smoother than expected, sweet at first, then biting, like cinnamon chased with a punch of something foreign. Your body responds immediately, heat blooming in your chest, your arms, your thighs.

“Strong,” you say, wincing as you go for a second sip.

“Mmhm,” she hums. “But you’ll feel amazing.”

Your skin starts to prickle, not uncomfortably. Just... heightened. Like everything is vibrating a little faster than it should. Your fingers twitch. You glance at her. Her pupils are wide, lips parted just slightly as she watches you drink.

You set the glass down, heart beating a little too fast now. “What’s in it?”

“Something that’s gonna make tonight unforgettable,” she murmurs, leaning in to brush her lips just below your jaw. Not a kiss, just a graze. “And I’ve got a surprise.”

Your pulse thumps. “Another one?”

She stands again, smooth and sudden, stepping across the room and pulling her phone from her clutch. She types something. A long message. Sends it.

Then she turns to face you again, hair tumbling over her shoulder, eyes dark and gleaming.

“They’re almost here,” she says.

You blink. “They?”

Karina approaches you again and sits on your lap, settling her weight fully onto your thighs. It's instant fire. Her warmth seeps through your pants, directly against the hardness already straining there, a painful, thrilling pressure. Her hands find your shoulders, fingers digging in just slightly, claiming the space.

"So," she starts, leaning closer, her breath ghosting over your ear. "About... that night. My little freakout."

You swallow, eyes locked on the curve of her neck, the faint pulse beating there.

"You're not the only one who knows about... well. Your impressive little toy downstairs."

A blush creeps up your neck. Toy? Little? It feels anything but little right now, jammed against her ass.

"W-what? Who else—"

"Shhh," she cuts you off, a finger tapping your lips. "No need to be ashamed. Not anymore. In fact..." Her lips curve into that slow, knowing smile you saw downstairs, the one that felt like she held all the cards. "It kinda got... rushed straight into my friend group."

Heat flares through you, hotter than the alcohol buzz. The drink, whatever it is, makes everything feel ten times more intense. Your cock gives a hard throb against her, impossible to hide.

"I... I don't think I get it, Jimin," you stammer out, feeling small under her gaze, even though she's the one practically draped over you.

"You will," she murmurs. "Soon. Very soon."

Right on cue, a crisp ding-dong echoes through the apartment. The doorbell.

Karina lifts herself off your lap with infuriating grace, smoothing down her skirt. The sudden absence of her weight makes your erection ache. She glances towards the door, then back at you, a quick, almost apologetic flicker in her eyes before it's replaced by resolve.

"Showtime," she mouths, then turns and strides towards the entrance.

The lock clicks. The heavy door swings inward. And suddenly, the spacious living room feels crowded. Three figures step inside, bringing a wave of expensive perfume and overwhelming presence. Towering over Karina, towering over you.

Wonyoung is first, draped in a long, dramatic beige trench coat that swamps her frame but somehow still looks regal. Her expression is pure, unfiltered impatience, lips pursed into a perfect pout. Beside her, Yuna practically spills out of a tiny black leather tube top and matching micro-skirt, fishnets snaking up her long legs, a predatory grin already fixed on you. And then there's Sullyoon, looking almost angelic in a white lace corset top and ridiculously short pleated skirt, but her wide, curious eyes dart nervously between you, Karina, and Wonyoung, clutching a small designer handbag. They’re all impossibly beautiful. And impossibly tall.

You just swallow, hard, sinking back into the plush velvet of the couch. Your brain short-circuits. Four K-pop goddesses. In the same room. Looking at you.

"Finally," Wonyoung mutters, tapping an expensively manicured finger against her arm, not even bothering to hide her irritation. "Took long enough."

Karina closes the door, turning back to the group, her hostess smile firmly in place, though you see the slight tension in her shoulders. "Girls, this is the guy I was talking about. You... probably already know who they are, right?" she directs the last part at you, a weak attempt at normalcy.

You nod dumbly, unable to form words.

Wonyoung's sharp eyes rake over you, from your hair down to your feet. A dismissive little sniff escapes her.

"Huh. You're even smaller in person," she remarks, sounding unimpressed. She glances sharply at Karina. "Are you sure about this, Jimin?"

Karina nods quickly. "Yes. Positive."

Wonyoung just hums, unconvinced. Then, with fluid nonchalance, she reaches up and undoes the belt of her trench coat. The fabric falls open. Underneath, she's wearing nothing but a scandalous black lace lingerie set; push-up bra showcasing perfect cleavage, matching high-waisted panties emphasizing her tiny waist and long legs, held up by intricate garter straps. She absolutely came prepared. Your mouth goes dry.

Karina turns back to you, offering a hand. "Come on, stand up."

Your legs feel shaky. The bulge in your pants is painfully obvious now, throbbing in time with the frantic beat in your chest. You take her hand, letting her pull you to your feet. You feel like a child standing among them.

Wonyoung's gaze flicks down to your crotch, then back up, a flicker of something – interest? Disdain? – in her eyes. "Did he already drink?” she asks Karina, nodding towards the empty glass on the coffee table.

"Yep. All of it," Karina confirms.

Your head snaps towards Karina, sudden alarm cutting through the horny haze. "Drink what? What are you talking about?"

Karina laughs nervously, waving a dismissive hand. "Oh, it's nothing serious! Just a little something... to help you keep up. You know." She gestures vaguely at the three other women staring at you. "Four girls is no joke, right? Need stamina!"

"You... you literally drugged me?"

“Drugging is a very strong word!” she retorts, laughing nervously. “Look at you, conscious and healthy! What you drank was just an aphrodisiac, totally harmless.. and natural too.”

Yuna lets out a delighted giggle, covering her mouth with perfectly painted nails. "Aw, look at him. He's finally catching on!"

"Is... is what I think is going to happen... actually going to happen?" you ask Karina.

Wonyoung steps forward, silencing Karina before she can answer. She stops right in front of you, close enough you can smell the sweet, powdery scent of her skin beneath the perfume.

"If what you're thinking," Wonyoung states, her tone flat and bored, "is that you're about to get used like a personal dildo by four incredibly hot girls who are way out of your league... then yes. You are absolutely right."

Your breath hitches. Before you can process, Wonyoung gives a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. Immediately, Yuna and Sullyoon are flanking you. Strong hands grip your arms, surprisingly firm. Yuna's touch is confident, almost playful; Sullyoon's is hesitant but locks on tight. You flinch, trying instinctively to pull away, a pathetic little struggle.

"Hey, relax," Karina says quickly, stepping closer, her expression pleading. "Just... go with it. It'll be fun."

Fun? Your head is spinning, your body is on fire, and four idols are manhandling you after drugging you. But fuck, the dominant way Wonyoung is looking at you, the hungry glint in Yuna's eyes, even Sullyoon's wide-eyed curiosity... it's terrifyingly hot.

Wonyoung reaches out, her long fingers landing on the button of your jeans. Her touch is cool, deliberate.

"Alright," she announces, her gaze fixed on your crotch. "Let's see if Jimin was telling the truth, or if she just has a really weird memory of high school dick."

Her fingers work quickly, expertly. The button pops. The zipper slides down. Before you can even react, she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of your jeans and boxers together and yanks them down past your hips, down your thighs, letting them pool around your ankles.

Your cock springs free, fully, violently hard. It bounces heavily against your lower belly, thick and veiny and flushed a deep, angry red from the drug and the sheer, overwhelming arousal. Ten and a half inches of raw, improbable meat jutting out from your otherwise skinny frame.

Yuna gasps, her eyes widening comically. Sullyoon makes a tiny choking sound, her grip tightening on your arm as her gaze locks onto it, mesmerized. Even Karina lets out a soft, breathy sound, her eyes glued to your erection.

"Wow," Karina whispers, sounding genuinely awed. "Okay... maybe it is even bigger than I remembered."

Only Wonyoung remains utterly impassive. Her face is a mask of cool appraisal, like she's judging a piece of art. Or livestock. She studies it for a long moment, then, without warning, her hand closes around the base. Her grip is strong, cool. She gives it a few slow, deliberate strokes, thumb pressing firmly against the thick vein running down the shaft.

A strangled moan escapes your lips before you can stop it. Your hips buck involuntarily.

"Is this it?" Wonyoung asks coolly, still stroking, her eyes meeting yours. "Is this fully hard? Or does it get bigger?"

"Y-yes," you gasp out, eyes squeezed shut. "That's... that's it."

Wonyoung stops stroking. She clicks her tongue. "Hm. Well then." She looks directly at Karina, her expression hardening. "We have a problem."

She bends slightly, reaching into an inner pocket of her fallen trench coat. You tense, wondering what the hell she's doing now. She straightens up holding... a sleek, metallic ruler.

"Wait, Wonyoung, are you seriously—" Karina starts, aghast.

"Of course I am," Wonyoung snaps, cutting her off. She kneels slightly, holding the ruler flat against the top side of your shaft, pressing the end firmly against your pubic bone. Her fingers are cold against your heated skin. You flinch, utterly humiliated, but Yuna and Sullyoon hold you fast. Wonyoung squints at the measurement.

"Ten... point five," she announces. She stands up straight, glaring daggers at Karina. "Ten and a half inches. You liar."

Karina shrinks back slightly. "What?"

"You told me," Wonyoung accuses, poking a finger towards Karina, "that it was bigger than my bodyguard's. You specifically said bigger than the bodyguard. He's twelve inches, Jimin! Twelve! This isn't even close!"

"I... I haven't seen it in years!" Karina defends herself frantically, blushing furiously. "It was dark, and it happened so fast! I was scared! It looked bigger back then, I swear! I thought it was enormous!"

Wonyoung rolls her eyes dramatically. "Disappointing. Utterly disappointing."

"Oh my god, Wonyoung, stop being so dramatic!" Yuna cuts in, finally letting go of your arm to reach down and cup your heavy balls possessively. Sullyoon mirrors her, her hesitant hand closing around the thick shaft just below Wonyoung's earlier grip. Their combined touch sends sparks through your system. "Who cares if it's not twelve inches? Look at this thing!" Yuna gives your balls a gentle squeeze. "It's still incredibly big. And so thick! We can have plenty of fun with this." Her eyes meet yours, hot and challenging. "Right? I'm already getting wet just holding him."

Sullyoon nods eagerly, running a tentative finger over the smooth head, her eyes wide with fascination. "Yeah, Wonyoung. It's... it's really amazing."

Wonyoung sighs, a long-suffering sound, but her eyes linger on the sheer girth of your cock, now being eagerly handled by the other two. "Fine," she concedes grudgingly. "It is impressively thick, I'll give you that. It might be good for something after all." She pauses, then pins Karina with a sharp look. "But you still lied. And liars need to be punished."

Karina swallows hard, nervousness flashing across her features again. "Punished? How?"

"You'll see," Wonyoung says cryptically. She turns her attention back to you, dismissing Karina entirely. "You. Finish taking off your clothes. Now. And get in the bedroom." She gestures vaguely towards a door down the hall. "I don't have all night."

Without waiting for a response, Wonyoung turns on her heel, her lingerie-clad form disappearing towards the indicated room, the trench coat abandoned on the floor.

Yuna leans in close, her hot breath fanning your ear. "You heard the princess. Hurry up," she whispers, then plants a quick, wet kiss on your cheek before releasing your balls and following Wonyoung.

Sullyoon gives your aching cock one last, surprisingly firm squeeze, her eyes flicking up to meet yours with a mixture of shyness and burgeoning excitement. Then she too lets go and scurries after the others, leaving you standing there alone in the middle of the luxurious living room.

Your pants are around your ankles, your shirt is still on, your monster erection is throbbing painfully in the open air, slick with pre-cum and the lingering touch of three different idols. Your head spins from the drug, the humiliation, the sheer terror, and the undeniable, overwhelming wave of horniness flooding your system. What the fuck just happened? And what the fuck happens next? You stand frozen, caught somewhere between wanting to run and wanting to crawl into that bedroom immediately. Obviously, driven by a total lack of shame and an unbearable horniness, combined with no sense of self-preservation, you choose the second option.

Fuck it. You kick off your fallen pants and boxers fully, leaving them in a pathetic heap on the expensive floor, and start walking towards the bedroom door Wonyoung vanished through. Your bare feet pad silently on the cool hardwood.

Karina falls into step beside you, her bare shoulder brushing your arm. You glance sideways at her, the mix of betrayal and horniness churning in your gut.

"You lied to me," you state. "The whole time. Downstairs. In the car."

She flinches slightly but keeps walking, her gaze fixed on the bedroom door ahead. "Okay, technically... maybe a little bit by omission?"

"A little bit?" you scoff, feeling a hysterical laugh bubble up. "You drugged me, Jimin! You set me up to be... to be some kind of human dildo for your idol friends!"

"Hey!" she protests, stopping for a second. "I did want to see you again. Honestly. That part wasn't a lie." She searches your face, her expression earnest, though it's hard to trust anything she says right now. "Things just got... complicated. And Wonyoung kinda insisted after I... might have mentioned you."

"Mentioned me? Or mentioned this?" you gesture vaguely downwards at your still stubbornly rigid cock.

"Both?" she offers weakly.

You shake your head, feeling dizzy again. "It's kinda hard to believe anything you say right now."

You reach the bedroom doorway and hesitate, peering inside. The room is huge, dominated by a massive bed with a dark grey headboard and way too many pillows. Soft light glows from hidden fixtures. Yuna and Sullyoon are near the foot of the bed, casually shedding their clothes. Yuna unhooks her leather top with a flourish, letting it drop to reveal a simple, strappy black bra that barely contains her curves. Sullyoon is more methodical, carefully folding her pleated skirt before unzipping the back of her lace corset, revealing matching white lace panties and a push-up bra that gives her an impressive silhouette. They’re both practically glowing with confidence, completely unbothered by your presence.

Karina gently pushes you forward, over the threshold. She reaches up and pulls her sheer blouse over her head in one smooth motion, tossing it onto a nearby armchair. Her bra is pale pink lace, elegant but functional, doing its best to support her surprisingly full, pale breasts. They swell invitingly over the delicate fabric, nipples visibly hard beneath the lace. You can't help but stare for a beat, remembering the feel of them pressed against your chest years ago.

She catches you looking and gives a small, self-conscious smile before starting to unzip her skirt. It slides down her legs, pooling around her knee-high boots before she finally takes them off. Underneath, she wears matching pink lace panties. "Your turn," she prompts, nodding towards your shirt. "Unless you want Wonyoung to rip it off you."

The thought is strangely appealing, but you comply, pulling your t-shirt over your head and tossing it vaguely towards hers. Now you're standing there in just your socks, utterly exposed.

"So..." you begin, looking between the four women, feeling incredibly out of place and ridiculously turned on. "What... uh... what happens now?"

"Now?" Wonyoung's drawl comes from the bed. You see her lounging against the pillows, still in her black lingerie, legs crossed, watching you with predatory amusement. "Now the fun begins, tiny."

Wonyoung slides off the bed with feline grace. Yuna and Sullyoon turn from their discarded clothes, their eyes immediately locking onto your cock again. Together, the three of them approach, moving with unnerving synchronicity. They stop a few feet away, then slowly, deliberately, sink to their knees in front of you. Three pairs of stunning eyes staring intently at your dick. It’s like some weird, terrifyingly hot religious ceremony.

Karina takes a step forward, starting to kneel beside them, but Wonyoung shoots her a look sharp enough to cut glass.

"Ah-ah," Wonyoung chides, clicking her tongue. "Not you. Not yet."

Karina freezes, her cheeks flushing slightly. She straightens up quickly, looking uncertain. After a moment's hesitation, she steps beside you instead, looping an arm comfortingly around your shoulders, pulling you slightly against her side. Her skin is warm. She leans in and presses a soft, quick kiss to your temple.

"Just breathe," she whispers, her lips brushing your ear. "Try to enjoy it?"

Enjoy it? Your heart is trying to beat its way out of your chest, but as Wonyoung reaches out, followed immediately by Yuna and Sullyoon, their hands hovering just inches from your shaft, a low groan rumbles in your chest.

Wonyoung's fingers, cool and clinical, land first. She wraps them around the base again, testing the weight, her thumb tracing the thick vein. Yuna goes straight for the head, her touch surprisingly bold as she wets a fingertip with her tongue and circles the sensitive tip, making you gasp. Sullyoon hesitates for only a second before tentatively cupping your heavy balls, her touch feather-light at first, then growing firmer as she seems to gain confidence.

"Holy shit," Yuna breathes out, her eyes wide as she keeps teasing the head of your cock. "It's like... holding a fucking baseball bat. But, like, a really nice, warm baseball bat."

Sullyoon giggles nervously, her fingers exploring the taut skin of your scrotum. "It doesn't even look real up close. How does this even fit on someone?"

Wonyoung ignores them, focusing her attention on the shaft, running her other hand slowly up and down its length, mapping the texture, the heat. "Forget the length," she murmurs, almost to herself. "The girth on this thing... Now this is interesting." She squeezes slightly, eliciting another strangled sound from you. "Definitely something to work with."

Karina's arm tightens around your shoulders, a silent signal of... support? Apology? Shared anticipation? You can barely think straight, trapped between her comforting presence and the overwhelming sensation of three gorgeous idols worshipping your freakishly large dick like it's the eighth wonder of the world. Your knees feel weak, the room spins gently, and all you can focus on is the heat building low in your belly, spiraling outwards from their exploring hands.

Wonyoung maintains her grip on the base, anchoring you, while her tongue makes slow, deliberate laps around the thickest part of the shaft, pressing hard. It's methodical, almost analytical, but feels incredible. Yuna, giggling, dives lower, taking one of your heavy balls fully into her mouth, sucking strongly while her other hand playfully squeezes its twin. You cry out, hips jerking, hands clenching into fists at your sides. Sullyoon, seeming to take her cue from Yuna, mimics the action on your other ball, her technique less practiced but no less enthusiastic, her cheeks hollowing with the effort.

"Mmmph," Yuna hums around your ball, her eyes sparkling up at you. "So salty. You taste good."

Sullyoon nods vigorously, her mouth still full.

Karina's arm tightens around your shoulders. You can feel the slight tremor running through her. "God," she breathes out, her gaze fixed on the scene below. "Look at them..."

Wonyoung lifts her head slightly, her lips glistening. "Alright, girls, new plan." Her tone is all business, but there's a dark spark in her eyes. "I need him really wet. Like, dripping. Slobber him up properly. I have plans for all that lube later."

Yuna pulls off your ball with a wet pop. "Ooh, bossy Wonyoung! My favorite!" She winks, then immediately latches onto the mid-shaft, sucking hard and deep, making deliberately sloppy noises. "You want drool? You got drool, princess!"

Sullyoon, blushing furiously but clearly eager to please, releases your other ball and joins Yuna on the shaft, her mouth smaller but working just as diligently, their tongues occasionally bumping. It's a hot, messy tangle of lips and saliva coating your straining cock.

Wonyoung watches them for a second, a critical glint in her eyes, before lowering her head again, her tongue darting out to flick teasingly at the sensitive underside, right where the shaft meets your balls. You groan, head tipping back against Karina's shoulder.

"Oh my god," Karina whispers, her own breathing quickening. She leans her cheek against your hair. "Are you... are you okay? Are you enjoying this?"

Is she serious? Your brain is soup, your body is humming like a live wire, and three of the most beautiful women on the planet are tag-teaming your dick like it owes them money.

"F-fuck," you manage to gasp out, legs trembling. "Y-yes? Maybe? God, Jimin, it's..." You can't finish. Another wave of pleasure crashes over you as Yuna somehow manages to take even more of you into her throat, her hand pumping the base in time with her sucking. Pre-cum beads thickly at the tip, immediately licked away by Sullyoon's inquisitive tongue.

"He likes it!" Sullyoon announces proudly through a mouthful of spit and dick.

"Course he likes it, dummy," Yuna retorts, pulling back just enough to talk. "Look at him! Leaking like a faucet already. We're doing a great job making him nice and slippery for Wonyoung's mysterious plans." She gives Wonyoung a suggestive look.

Wonyoung just smirks, her tongue still tracing lazy circles near your balls. "Focus, Yuna. More spit. Less talk."

"Yes, ma'am!" Yuna salutes mockingly, then dives back in, somehow managing to sound even wetter this time. Sullyoon follows suit, their combined efforts painting your cock in thick, glistening ropes of saliva. The wet sucking sounds fill the room, punctuated by your helpless moans and the occasional giggle from Yuna or encouragement from Karina.

"Damn," Karina murmurs again, her fingers tightening on your shoulder. "You really are... something else." She sounds genuinely impressed, and maybe a little turned on herself. You feel a bead of sweat trickle down your temple, the heat in the room, or maybe just in your own body, becoming almost unbearable. This is insane. It's degrading. It's terrifying.

And fuck, you hope they don't stop anytime soon.

"More," Wonyoung demands, her own mouth leaving your balls for a moment to issue the order. "I want him practically drowning in it. Yuna, Sullyoon, don't be shy with the spit."

Yuna grins wickedly around your shaft. "You hear that, Sullyoonie? Permission to be absolutely disgusting!" She pulls back slightly, gathers saliva in her mouth (you can literally hear it) and then leans in, letting a thick, clear stream drizzle directly onto the head of your cock. It mixes with the pre-cum already leaking there, creating a pearly mess. "How's that, boss?"

"Better," Wonyoung approves, nodding slightly. She then looks pointedly at Sullyoon. "Your turn."

Sullyoon hesitates for only a split second, blushing scarlet, before copying Yuna. Her spit is maybe a little less voluminous, but she makes up for it with enthusiasm, adding another layer of wetness. You groan loudly, bucking against their mouths as the warm liquid coats you. It feels unbelievably degrading and yet insanely hot.

"Oh my god, they're actually spitting on it," Karina whispers beside you, sounding both horrified and utterly captivated. "Is that... does that feel okay?"

"F-Feels..." you gasp, trying to catch your breath. "Feels fucking weird! Good weird! Fuck!"

"Language," Wonyoung chides absently, though she doesn't sound genuinely annoyed. She seems focused on the task at hand. She uses her fingers to smear the combined spit and pre-cum all over the shaft, ensuring every inch is glistening under the soft bedroom lights. "See? Nice and slick. Almost ready."

"Ready for what?" Yuna asks playfully, her tongue now lapping up the excess spit near the base, her cheeks puffed out. "You gonna use him as a slip-n-slide?"

Wonyoung ignores her. "Tip duty. Both of you," she commands Yuna and Sullyoon.

They obey instantly. Sullyoon’s smaller tongue darts out, carefully tracing the ridge of the corona, while Yuna goes straight for the slit, flicking her tongue rapidly over the hypersensitive opening, drawing out even more pre-cum. Their tongues brush, slide over each other, working in tandem to worship the very head of your cock. It’s an agonizingly precise torture.

"Mmm, look how much pre-cum he's making," Sullyoon murmurs, her eyes wide with fascination. "It tastes good."

"Told ya," Yuna slurps, managing to get her lips around the entire glans for a moment, sucking hard before releasing it with another wet pop. "He's like a leaky faucet of man-juice. Keep licking, Sullyoon, let's make it nice and shiny."

They continue their ministrations, tongues swirling, lapping, occasionally flicking out to catch stray drips running down the shaft. Wonyoung watches critically, occasionally adding a guiding touch with her finger or a low hum of approval. Karina is practically vibrating beside you now, her hand gripping your shoulder tightly, her knuckles white. You can feel her shallow, rapid breaths against your neck.

The combined stimulation is relentless. Your toes curl, your back arches off the floor slightly, supported only by Karina's arm. A high-pitched whine escapes your throat. You feel dangerously close, the pressure building low and deep, coiling tight in your balls.

Just as you think you might actually lose it, Wonyoung gives a sharp nod. "Okay. Enough."

Yuna and Sullyoon pull back simultaneously, leaving your cock absolutely drenched, glistening obscenely, thick ropes of saliva and pre-cum dripping onto the floor. It stands there, twitching slightly, impossibly hard and looking utterly debauched.

Wonyoung leans back on her heels, surveying their handiwork with a critical eye. A small, satisfied smirk touches her lips. "Acceptable," she declares finally. Then, her gaze shifts, sharp and imperious, landing squarely on Karina, who is still holding you up, looking flushed and breathless from watching.

"Karina," Wonyoung commands, her tone leaving no room for argument. "On your knees. Now.”

Karina practically beams, relief washing over her face as she drops eagerly to her knees before you, eyes fixed on your glistening, spit-slicked cock. She clearly thinks it’s finally her turn, leaning forward slightly, lips parting in anticipation. Oh, how wrong she is.

Wonyoung watches her kneel with a predatory stillness, letting the hope bloom on Karina’s face for a torturous second before shattering it.

"What do you think you're doing?" Wonyoung asks, her tone deceptively soft.

Karina blinks, confused. "I'm... you told me to kneel?" Her gaze flickers towards your cock, then back to Wonyoung, clearly expecting the order to suck.

"Yes. Kneel for your punishment," Wonyoung corrects coolly. "For lying to me about the merchandise." She gestures towards your erection with a flick of her wrist. "You don't get to taste it yet. First, you pay the price for exaggerating."

Karina's hopeful expression evaporates, replaced by wide-eyed confusion, then dawning fear. "Punishment? Wait, what—"

Beside her, Yuna claps a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Sullyoon tries to stifle a giggle behind her hand, her eyes sparkling with mischievous delight. They clearly knew this was coming.

"H-how... how are you going to punish me?" Karina stammers, looking genuinely scared now.

Wonyoung's lips curl into a cruel, slow smile. "With this," she declares, and before Karina can react, Wonyoung reaches out, her hand closing firmly around the base of your thick, dripping cock. She lifts it slightly, like she’s hefting a weapon. Then, with a swift, deliberate motion, she swings it sideways, slapping the wet, heavy shaft right across Karina’s cheek.

The sound is shockingly loud, wet and fleshy. Karina cries out, head snapping to the side from the impact, a bright red mark instantly blooming on her pale skin, smeared with your spit and pre-cum.

Yuna and Sullyoon absolutely lose it, bursting into loud laughter, clutching each other for support.

"Oh my god! She actually did it!" Yuna howls between giggles.

Wonyoung ignores them, her focus entirely on Karina’s stunned, reddening face. "Rule number one, Jimin: Don't bullshit me about dick size," she states calmly. "Since you were off by almost two inches, but we'll round down... let's make it ten hits. One for every lovely, thick inch he actually has." She adjusts her grip on your shaft, preparing for the next swing.

The sensation is… bizarre. Jarring at first, then this strange, intense vibration travels up the shaft with each impact, making your cock throb pleasurably. You stand there, rooted to the spot, watching Wonyoung use your own dick to punish Karina.

SMACK! "One," Wonyoung counts, hitting the other cheek this time. Karina whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut but holding her position.

SMACK! "Two." Another wet impact, leaving another glistening smear.

SMACK! "Three." Karina lets out a low moan this time, a sound that’s halfway between pain and something else. Her hands clench into fists on her thighs.

SMACK! "Four." Your cock feels incredibly sensitive, the repeated slapping friction oddly satisfying against the wetness. It feels… good. Way better than it should.

"Look at her face!" Sullyoon squeals, pointing. "It's all red and shiny!"

SMACK! "Five." Wonyoung delivers this one harder, snapping Karina’s head back slightly. A tear escapes the corner of Karina's eye, but the soft sigh that follows it sounds suspiciously like pleasure.

Fuck, is she actually getting off on this?

"Damn, Wonyoung, you're really going for it," Yuna comments, still chuckling. "Can we have a turn? Please? It looks fun! Like that baseball bat I mentioned!"

Wonyoung pauses after the fifth hit, considering Yuna's request while keeping a firm grip on your throbbing shaft. Karina uses the moment to take a shaky breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly, eyes still closed, face flushed and marked.

"Fine," Wonyoung concedes with a shrug. "But don't mess up the count. Five more hits."

Yuna squeals with delight and practically lunges forward, grabbing your cock just below Wonyoung's hand. Sullyoon eagerly joins in, her smaller hands closing around the shaft as well. They wield it together, a combined grip that feels incredibly tight and encompassing.

"Our turn, Jimin!" Yuna chirps happily. "Ready for the big leagues?"

Karina nods mutely, bracing herself.

SMACK! Yuna and Sullyoon swing together, their combined force making the impact even heavier. "Six!" Yuna yells gleefully.

SMACK! "Seven!" Sullyoon shouts, getting into the spirit. The wet slap echoes in the room. Karina moans louder this time, a definite note of arousal in the sound now, her hips shifting slightly on the floor.

SMACK! "Eight!" They're literally using your dick like a club, and the friction, the impact, the sheer humiliation of the scene it's pushing you closer to the edge again. Your cock feels impossibly hard, straining against their tight grips between hits.

SMACK! "Nine!" Karina's breathing is harsh now, her lips parted, another tear tracking through the smear of spit on her cheek, but her eyes, when they flutter open for a second, look hazy and aroused.

"Last one!" Yuna announces. They swing back for momentum—

SMACK! "Ten!" The final hit lands solidly, leaving Karina panting, her face a mess of red marks and glistening wetness, looking utterly wrecked and undeniably horny.

Yuna and Sullyoon release you abruptly, stepping back and admiring their handiwork, giggling like schoolgirls. Your cock springs free, still dripping, throbbing from the repeated impacts, feeling incredibly sensitive and somehow even harder than before.

Karina stays kneeling on the expensive rug, her face still flushed, marked with the fading red impressions from your own dick. Her eyes, though, they aren't filled with pain or anger anymore. They're locked onto your cock, still dripping thick ropes of spit and pre-cum onto the floor, throbbing from the abuse it just dished out.

"Wony... please," Karina asks, her eyes flickering up to the dominant girl who stands observing like a bored queen. "Can I... Can I clean him up? Please? Just let me taste it."

Wonyoung taps a long, perfectly manicured finger against her chin, pretending to mull it over. The silence stretches, Yuna and Sullyoon watch with barely concealed amusement, clearly enjoying Karina's predicament.

"Hmmmm," Wonyoung hums, drawing out the moment. "Let me think..." She pauses dramatically. "No."

The single word hits Karina like another slap. Her face falls, hope instantly extinguished, replaced by stinging disappointment. She looks down, biting her lip hard.

"Maybe later," Wonyoung adds dismissively, like tossing a scrap to a dog. "If you're a good girl. But first, I need to see if this... thing... is actually any good. Can't have substandard equipment tarnishing my reputation, can we?" She turns that cool, appraising gaze back to you, dismissing Karina entirely. "If I don't like it, Jimin," she says, deliberately using Karina's real name, "then you are royally screwed. Understand?"

Karina just nods mutely, looking utterly dejected.

"You," Wonyoung commands, pointing a sharp finger at you. "Bed. Now."

Your body feels disconnected from your brain. Part of you wants to bolt, to run screaming from this luxurious nightmare penthouse. But the aphrodisiac humming in your veins, combined with the overwhelming presence of these four women and the undeniable, terrifying arousal Wonyoung sparks in you, roots you to the spot. You hesitate, muscles locking up.

Before you can make a conscious decision, Yuna and Sullyoon are grabbing your arms again. Their initial playful exploration is gone, replaced by a firm, almost rough grip. They practically drag you across the room, your bare feet stumbling slightly on the plush carpet. They don't exactly throw you, but they guide you firmly onto the enormous bed, pushing you down until you're lying flat on your back amidst the sea of expensive pillows and crisp grey duvet. The mattress sinks slightly under your weight.

You lie there, utterly exposed, your erection jutting towards the ceiling like some obscene monument. The humiliation burns, but fuck, so does the heat pooling in your gut. The three of them (Wonyoung, Yuna, Sullyoon) climb onto the bed with predatory grace, surrounding you. Karina lingers near the foot of the bed, looking lost and unsure, still just in her pink lace bra and panties, hugging herself slightly.

Wonyoung positions herself directly between your legs, kneeling over you. She reaches down, grabbing your ankles and pulling your legs further apart, forcing you into an even more vulnerable position. Her eyes rake over your cock with that same critical appraisal, as if deciding where to start.

"Alright, let's see," she murmurs, almost to herself. Wonyoung puts her panties aside, then she reaches out, her fingers wrapping around the base, cool and clinical. Then, slowly, deliberately, she guides the thick, slick head towards her own entrance. You watch, breathless, as she tries to position herself, biting her lip slightly in concentration. Her pussy looks impossibly tight, incredibly intimidating compared to the sheer girth she's trying to take.

She lowers herself slowly, carefully. There's a sharp intake of breath, her eyes squeezing shut for a second as the head breaches her entrance. A low hiss escapes her lips.

"Fuck," Wonyoung grits out. "Okay. Wow. The thickness is really something else."

She stops, only the head and maybe an inch or two inside her. She breathes deeply, trying to relax, her hands braced on your chest. You can feel the muscles inside her clenching tightly around you, resisting the invasion.

"Just... give me a second," she mutters, more to herself than to you. She takes another slow breath and pushes down again, harder this time. A strangled gasp tears from her throat, her back arching slightly. She manages another inch, maybe two. The friction is intense, almost unbearable for both of you. You can feel every ridge, every vein of your cock scraping against her impossibly tight walls.

"See?" she pants, forcing a strained smile as she looks up at you. "Told you... I could handle it."

She starts to move then, tentative at first. Tiny, almost imperceptible shifts of her hips, trying to ease herself further down onto your length. Each small movement sends jolts of raw pleasure through you, but it's mixed with the undeniable sight of her pain. Her face is screwed up in concentration, sweat beading on her forehead.

"God, it... it kinda hurts," she admits through clenched teeth, pausing her movements. "But..." A different kind of noise escapes her then, a low moan that's equal parts pain and dawning pleasure. "...But it also feels... fuck, it feels kinda good, too. Stretching me out like this."

She starts moving again, a little bolder now, lifting herself slightly before sinking back down, taking a fraction more of you each time. The initial pain seems to be giving way, replaced by the friction, the sheer fullness. You can see the shift in her expression, the tight lines of discomfort slowly melting into something hotter, needier. She's managed to take maybe five, six inches now; just over half your length, but already filling her completely.

"Okay," Wonyoung breathes out, her rhythm becoming more confident, a slow, steady grind. "Okay, I see the appeal." Her eyes flick towards Yuna and Sullyoon, who are watching the scene with rapt attention. "This girth... it hits different."

Then, her gaze drops back to you, and the cruelty returns, sharp and sudden. "Look at you," she sneers as she continues her slow, torturous ride. "Just lying there. Taking it. Like a good little freak."

"Letting me just... use you," she continues, picking up the pace slightly, her moans starting to mingle with her insults. "Because that's all you're good for, isn't it? With a dick like that on a body like yours? You're just a fucking toy. A novelty. Something to be passed around and used up when we're bored." She leans down, her face close to yours, her eyes cold. "You have no dignity, do you? Just a pathetic little fucktoy waiting for orders."

You flinch, turning your head away, shame warring with the undeniable arousal her words, her movements, are stirring in you. A low sound escapes your throat, a mix between a whimper and a groan.

Wonyoung laughs, a harsh, satisfied sound. "Oh, you like that? Being put in your place?"

Beside the bed, Yuna and Sullyoon are practically vibrating with excitement. The sight of Wonyoung dominating you, humiliating you, is clearly turning them on immensely. Yuna reaches out, her fingers fumbling with the clasp of Sullyoon's white lace bra. Sullyoon gasps softly but doesn't stop her, instead leaning in to press a kiss to Yuna's shoulder as the bra falls away, revealing her surprisingly full, pale breasts, nipples already hard. Yuna moans, her hands immediately cupping Sullyoon's chest, thumbs circling the stiff peaks. Sullyoon arches her back, pushing into Yuna's touch, her eyes fluttering shut as Yuna leans down to suckle one nipple greedily. They start touching each other, slow, sensual caresses, lost in their own world but clearly fueled by the scene playing out on the bed.

You can't help it, your hands start to move, wanting to grip Wonyoung's hips, wanting some semblance of control, some way to push back against the humiliation, to match the intensity of her ride. But the second your fingers brush her skin, her hand flashes out, slapping you hard across the face.

It hurts. A lot.

The force of it snaps your head to the side, your cheek stinging instantly. Stars explode behind your eyes.

"Don't touch me unless I tell you to!" Wonyoung orders sharply. "Just lie there and do what you're told, toy. Be useful."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, from the slap, the humiliation, the sheer overwhelming nature of it all. You nod mutely, letting your hands fall limply to your sides. You obey. Because what else can you do?

Karina, who has been watching all this unfold from the foot of the bed, her face a mixture of arousal, pity, and fear, finally speaks up. Her voice is small, hesitant. "Wony... maybe... maybe take it easy on him? He's..."

Wonyoung cuts her off with a venomous glare, pausing her rhythmic grinding on your cock just long enough to snap, "Shut the fuck up, Jimin." Her voice is ice. "Did I say you could talk? No. You're lucky you're even in this room after lying to me." She gestures dismissively towards Karina's chest. "Now take off that fucking bra, whore. I want those big pale tits of yours out. Now."

Karina flinches as if struck, but the order, the sudden harsh attention, also seems to ignite something in her. A flicker of desperation, a need to please, to get back in Wonyoung's good graces (or maybe just to feel something other than sidelined). Without another word, her hands move to her back, fumbling slightly with the clasp. The pink lace falls away, revealing her own full, pale breasts, nipples tight and dark against her skin. She keeps her eyes down, looking utterly miserable yet strangely defiant.

Wonyoung gives a grunt of approval, then immediately resumes riding you, harder now, her moans mixing with yours. Your own moan escapes, louder this time, raw with the conflicting mess of pain, humiliation, and overwhelming pleasure. You can't help it; despite everything, despite the slap still stinging your cheek, the sight of Wonyoung grinding down on you, her perfect body moving above yours, is undeniably beautiful.

"Damn, you’re so fucking hot," you groan out, the words ripped from you involuntarily.

Wonyoung pauses for a beat, tilting her head slightly as if she just registered your words through the haze of her own pleasure. A slow, incredibly smug smile spreads across her face.

"I know," she says simply.

Across the room, Yuna lifts her head from Sullyoon's breast, her lips wet. Sullyoon moans softly as Yuna's hand slides between her legs. Yuna's eyes flick between you and Wonyoung, a knowing smirk blooming on her face.

"Oh?" Yuna says, her voice sly. "Looks like our little toy likes being used after all. Likes being treated rough."

Sullyoon giggles breathlessly, nodding in agreement, her eyes also fixed on your reaction. "He really does…”

Wonyoung is definitely having fun now. The initial tightness and discomfort have melted away, replaced by pure, unadulterated pleasure radiating from her face. Her movements are stronger, more demanding, her hips rocking against yours with a practiced rhythm that steals your breath. She throws her head back, dark hair cascading over her shoulders, a genuine, guttural moan ripping from her throat as she grinds down hard, milking another wave of intense friction from your thick shaft.

"Oh, fuck," Wonyoung gasps out, her eyes half-lidded, glazed with pleasure. "Okay, okay... this is... goddamn... the thickness is insane. It feels... holy shit." She grips your hips tighter, digging her perfectly manicured nails into your skin, leveraging herself for deeper strokes. "Forget the length, this girth..." she groans again, riding you with renewed vigor. "It fills me up completely. Hits everything."

Karina, still standing nearby with her bra discarded, sees her opening. Her eyes light up with a desperate need for validation, latching onto Wonyoung's praise like a lifeline.

"See?" Karina blurts out, stepping closer to the bed, her voice hopeful. "See, Wony? I told you! I told you it was amazing! I knew you'd like it!"

Wonyoung's eyes snap open. She glares daggers at Karina, her rhythm faltering slightly.

"Shut up, Jimin," Wonyoung snaps. "Don't interrupt me when I'm busy. And don't think a lucky guess about the thickness makes up for you lying about the size. You said twelve inches. You lied."

Karina shrinks back, wilting under the glare. "I didn't lie!" she protests weakly, twisting her hands together. "I just... I remembered it wrong! It was years ago! I made a mistake!"

"A convenient mistake," Wonyoung scoffs, but her attention is already shifting. A wicked glint enters her eyes as she looks Karina up and down, lingering on her bare chest. "Fine. You want to be useful? Bring those big tits over here. Right now."

Karina hesitates for only a fraction of a second, glancing nervously at you, then back at Wonyoung. The desperation to please, to be included, wins out. She quickly climbs onto the bed, kneeling beside Wonyoung, carefully avoiding touching you. She leans forward tentatively, offering her chest.

Wonyoung doesn't waste a second. She leans over, still impaling you, and captures one of Karina's large, pale nipples between her teeth, sucking hard. Karina cries out, a sharp gasp that's equal parts surprise and pleasure, her back arching instinctively. Wonyoung uses her free hand to mercilessly squeeze Karina's other breast, kneading the soft flesh, pinching the already hard nipple between her thumb and forefinger.

"Mmmph," Wonyoung hums around Karina's nipple, her eyes fluttering shut again as she focuses on the dual sensations: your thick cock stretching her tight cunt, Karina's soft breast filling her mouth. "Okay... gotta admit, Jimin... these are pretty fucking amazing too." She releases the nipple with a wet pop, leaving it glistening and dark red, before latching onto the other one. "So full... so soft..." she murmurs, squeezing the first breast possessively.

Karina is panting now, her face flushed, eyes hazy. She looks utterly wrecked, caught between the intense stimulation and the relief of finally having Wonyoung's attention, even like this.

Yuna, who has paused her ministrations on Sullyoon to watch, lets out a theatrical sigh. Sullyoon is leaning against her, completely bare now, her small breasts flushed, nipples pebbled hard as she watches Wonyoung and Karina with wide, fascinated eyes.

"Ugh, not fair," Yuna whines playfully, cupping her own smaller chest for comparison. "I wish mine were big and squishy like Karina's. Lucky bitch."

Sullyoon nods in agreement, her gaze still fixed on Karina's chest being manhandled by Wonyoung.

Now, the sight is fucking unreal: Wonyoung riding you, her tight pussy gripping your thick cock with every downward thrust, while simultaneously devouring Karina's breast like it's the finest dessert. The combined visual is overwhelmingly hot, your breath hitches, catches, turns into ragged pants that fill the otherwise quiet room (save for Wonyoung's increasingly loud moans and Karina's breathy gasps). You can't help the sounds escaping you, raw groans torn from your throat with every powerful stroke Wonyoung delivers.

"Ah... Fuck... W-Wonyoung... Oh god..."

Wonyoung seems to reach a new peak, her movements becoming frantic, her grip on Karina's breast tightening almost painfully. Karina cries out again, but Wonyoung doesn't seem to notice, lost in her own pleasure. Then, abruptly, the intensity breaks. Wonyoung slows her pace, breathing heavily, sweat glistening on her skin. The sudden change makes your own ragged breathing sound even louder in the relative quiet.

Wonyoung glares down at you, annoyance flashing across her sweat-slicked face. "Ugh, can you stop making so much noise?" she complains, sounding like the spoiled princess she is. "It's distracting. Seriously, shut up." She glances over at the other two girls, who are now just watching, hands idle. "One of you, deal with this. Shut him up. Sit on his face or something. I don't care, just make him quiet."

Yuna and Sullyoon exchange excited glances. Sullyoon looks slightly hesitant, but Yuna grins wickedly.

"Ooh, face-sitting duty? Dibs!" Yuna declares immediately.

"Hey! No fair! I wanna do it too!" Sullyoon protests, pouting slightly.

Yuna rolls her eyes. "Okay, fine, drama queen. Rock paper scissors for it? Winner gets to smother him."

Sullyoon nods eagerly. They both hold out their fists.

"Rock! Paper! Scissors! SHOOT!"

Yuna throws paper. Sullyoon throws rock.

"Ha! Yes!" Yuna cheers triumphantly, pumping her fist. "Paper covers rock! Face is mine!"

Sullyoon groans dramatically but doesn't argue further, instead settling back to watch with keen interest. Yuna crawls purposefully towards your head, her movements fluid and confident. She's completely naked now, her lithe body gleaming slightly under the soft lights, her earlier play with Sullyoon having clearly left her thoroughly aroused. She positions herself directly over your face, straddling your neck, her bare pussy hovering just inches above your mouth. You can smell her arousal; musky, salty, intoxicating. She's definitely wet.

Yuna leans down slightly, her dark hair falling around her face, brushing against your cheeks.

"Alright, noise machine," Yuna purrs, lowering herself just enough that her wet folds brush against your lips. "Princess Wonyoung wants you quiet. So you're gonna focus on me now." She shifts her hips, grinding her clit lightly against your mouth. "Open up and eat. And don't stop until I tell you to."

She settles her weight down fully then, pressing her wetness firmly against your mouth and nose. The sensation is overwhelming; the soft pressure, the intimate scent, the taste of her arousal instantly flooding your senses. Wonyoung is still moving on your cock below, a steady, demanding rhythm, her moans starting up again, quieter now. Karina is still kneeling beside her, breasts bare, watching Yuna with wide eyes. Sullyoon is watching everything, touching herself lightly. And Yuna... Yuna is grinding onto your face, demanding your tongue, muffling any sound you might make besides muffled gasps into her flesh.

"That's it," Yuna murmurs. "Lick me, freak. Use that tongue. Make me feel good while Wonyoung breaks you." She moans as your tongue finally finds her clit, flicking against the sensitive nub. "Oh fuck... yeah, right there... Don't stop!”

Across the bed, Sullyoon is completely naked now, lying on her side, propped up on one elbow. Her eyes are wide, dark, fixed on the tangled mess of limbs. Her free hand is working furiously between her own long legs, fingers slick and glistening as she rubs herself, her breath coming in short, sharp pants.

"Oh my god," Sullyoon gasps out, watching Wonyoung slam down onto your cock. "Look how deep she's taking him... Fuck, Karina, she's murdering your tits too..." Her fingers move faster, her knuckles white. "Girls, this is... this is so hot..."

Wonyoung lets out another high, keening moan, throwing her head back again. Her grip on Karina's breast tightens, eliciting a sharp cry from her. Wonyoung doesn't seem to notice, her focus entirely internal now, chasing her own climax.

"Nnngh... Fuck... Almost... almost there..." Wonyoung pants, her words broken. Her hips slam down onto you with punishing force, again and again, driving you deeper into the mattress. The sheer thickness of your cock seems to be exactly what she needs, stretching her, filling her, pushing her closer to the edge. "Fuck... yes..." Wonyoung pants. "God, this girth... it's perfect. Hits me just... ah... right."

Meanwhile, Yuna is making your life a living hell in the best/worst possible way. Her slick cunt grinds relentlessly against your mouth, demanding attention. Your tongue is working frantically, trying to keep up, licking and sucking at her clit as she rides your face like she was born for it. The musky taste of her fills your senses, making your head spin even more than the aphrodisiac already is. Her hands grip the sides of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, holding you firmly in place.

"Lick faster, toy," Yuna commands. "Don't you dare slack off. Make me feel good."

You try to comply, your tongue moving in frantic circles, lapping at the wetness she’s providing. Suddenly, she shifts her weight awkwardly, wobbling slightly. Your hands instinctively shoot up, grabbing her hips to steady her before she can completely fall off balance.

"Nnngh-!" Yuna gasps, surprised by your quick reaction, but she settles back down immediately, grinding even harder against your mouth now that she has your hands supporting her. "Yes! Hold me right there, fucker! That's it! Hold me steady while I ride your face off! Fuck, use that tongue, bitch!"

Watching this chaotic scene, Sullyoon is practically vibrating on the spot. Her hand is a blur between her legs, fingers working her clit with frantic speed. Her face is flushed crimson, eyes wide and glazed, fixed on the tangle of bodies. A thin sheen of sweat covers her skin, and it is possible to see the creamy wetness starting to seep from between her own folds, slicking her fingers.

"Oh my god... oh fuck..." Sullyoon moans. "Wony... Yuna... you guys are so... fuck..."

Even Karina can't resist. Her free hand, the one not being crushed by Wonyoung, creeps down hesitantly at first, fingers brushing against her own damp panties. Seeing Yuna and Sullyoon so lost in pleasure, feeling Wonyoung's mouth still working her nipple, watching you get absolutely used... it's too much. Her fingers slip underneath the lace, finding her own clit, and she starts rubbing herself with small, desperate movements, her breath hitching.

Wonyoung throws her head back again, a loud, piercing moan tearing from her throat as she slams down onto your cock particularly hard, her tight walls milking you intensely.

"Fuck! Yes! Right there! Oh god, I'm... I'm getting close!" she screams. "Fuck, this dick is... magic!"

Yuna hears her and lets out an ecstatic shriek muffled against your lips. "Yes! Wony, yes! Me too! Let's cum together! Fuck!" She picks up her pace, grinding her clit against your tongue so hard it's almost painful, her whole body trembling.

"No! Wait!" Sullyoon cries out from the side, her fingers flying even faster. Her knuckles are white, her breathing ragged. "Wait for me! I'm almost there too! Fuck, please wait!"

Wonyoung laughs, a wild, breathless sound. "Hurry up then, Sullyoonie! Can't hold back much longer!" She leans further onto Karina, her weight pressing down as she continues her relentless ride, her pussy squeezing your cock with punishing intensity. She continues to squeeze Karina’s breast like it’s putty in her hand, twisting the nipple until Karina gasps sharply. "Feel that, Jimin?" Wonyoung taunts breathlessly between moans. "Feel how good he is? Feel what you missed out on because you were too scared?"

Karina just whimpers, her own fingers moving faster between her legs now, chasing her own release despite the humiliation.

"Almost... almost..." Wonyoung pants.

"Fuck... me too... gonna... cum!" Yuna gasps against your mouth.

Then, something shifts. Wonyoung reaches out, her hand finding Yuna's. Their fingers lace together tightly, a strange moment of connection amidst the chaos. They look at each other, eyes locked, faces flushed and identical masks of impending ecstasy.

"Now?" Yuna mouths silently.

Wonyoung nods curtly, then her eyes flick down to you, still filled with that cruel amusement even as she's about to lose control. "Look at you," she spits out between pants. "Just a fucking pole for us to ride. A mouth for us to use. Pathetic little freak, letting us do whatever we want to you." Her hips slam down one last time. "Good boy!"

"WAIT!" Sullyoon screams.

But it's too late.

Wonyoung throws her head back, a raw, guttural scream tearing from her throat as her orgasm crashes over her. Her inner walls clamp down on your cock hard, pulsing violently, milking you intensely. Simultaneously, Yuna lets out a high-pitched wail against your mouth, her hips spasming uncontrollably as she comes hard, her juices flooding your tongue, your throat, spilling down your chin. Sullyoon shrieks in frustration and pleasure as she finally tips over the edge milliseconds later, her body convulsing, fingers still buried inside herself.

Only Karina is silent, her hand stilled between her legs, watching the other three completely fall apart with wide, almost fearful eyes.

It takes a long moment for the intensity to subside. Wonyoung slowly, shakily, lifts herself off your still-throbbing cock. Her legs are trembling, her breath coming in harsh gasps. She looks utterly wrecked, but supremely satisfied. Yuna collapses forward onto your chest, panting, leaving your face completely soaked in her slick, sticky arousal, her scent clinging to you. Sullyoon curls into a ball on the bed, whimpering softly, spent.

Wonyoung recovers first, of course. She pushes her sweat-soaked hair back from her face and glares down at you, her usual imperious expression returning, though her flushed cheeks and slightly trembling hands betray the intensity of her orgasm.

"Well," she says, voice still a little shaky but regaining its commanding tone. She kicks your thigh lightly, not hard, just a dismissive nudge. "You were... adequate. As a piece of equipment." She looks you up and down. "You should thank us, you know. For even bothering to use you. Giving a little freak like you this kind of attention."

Your head is spinning. Your face is covered in Yuna’s juices. Your cock aches. Humiliation and arousal are waging a war inside you. But faced with Wonyoung’s unwavering command, the ingrained response kicks in.

"T-thank you," you stammer out. "Thank you... for using me."

Wonyoung gives a curt nod of satisfaction. Sullyoon, seemingly recovered, stirs beside you. She sits up slowly, her eyes landing on your face, still glistening wet. A slow, slightly dazed smile spreads across her lips.

"Hey, you're all messy," Sullyoon says softly. She crawls closer, leaning down towards your face. "Don't worry. I'll clean you up."

Before you can react, her tongue flicks out, tentatively licking at the sticky wetness on your cheek; Yuna's juices. She hums softly, seeming to enjoy the taste.

Yuna sees what Sullyoon is doing, and bursts into delighted giggles. "Yah! Sullyoon-ah!" she exclaims, reaching over and giving Sullyoon's bare ass a sharp, playful slap. "You little slut! Cleaning up after me already? So eager."

Sullyoon jumps at the slap, blushing furiously but giggling too as she continues to lick your face clean, her tongue surprisingly thorough.

Wonyoung’s chest rises and falls slow but heavy as she catches her breath, cheeks still flushed. She waves a hand lazily and snaps:

“Yuna. Water.”

Yuna’s already halfway up like she was waiting for the command, a little dazed but obedient, disappearing toward the suite’s kitchenette. You’re still on your back, cock slick and half-hard, twitching like it knows more’s coming.

Behind you, Karina’s voice pipes up, almost sheepish.

“Is it my turn now?”

Wonyoung tilts her head, pouting, turning with faux sweetness dripping from every syllable.

“Aww… Is our little Karina super horny right now?” She steps toward her slowly, arms crossed under her chest, tilting her head.

Karina nods, almost embarrassed. “Yeah.”

“You must be fucking insane,” Wonyoung purrs, biting her bottom lip, “to wanna feel that thing inside your pretty little pussy.” Her hand gestures lazily at your cock, still shiny with Wonyoung's Juices. “That thing you ran away from, remember? Screaming, even.”

Karina swallows hard and nods again. “I know… I was dumb…”

Wonyoung chuckles, low and wicked. “C’mere.”

Karina obeys instantly, stepping forward like she’s being summoned by a queen (which, yeah, she is). Wonyoung grabs her by the waist and pulls her in, lips crashing into hers. There’s hunger in it. Desperation. Karina clings to her, arms wrapping around her back as their tongues tangle and slide together.

Wonyoung’s hands move with zero shame, cupping Karina’s tits, squeezing hard, like she can’t help herself. The moan Karina lets out is real, shaky, needy.

“Mmm,” Wonyoung hums against her mouth. “Your mouth’s a lot more useful when it’s busy kissing than when it’s lying to me.”

Karina pulls back, blinking. “It wasn’t a—”

But Wonyoung shuts her up with a single finger pressed to her lips, eyes narrow.

“Shhh.”

Then kisses her again, harder this time. Rough. Like she’s marking her.

Yuna comes back into the room holding the glass of water like a dutiful maid, handing it over. Wonyoung grabs it, downs it in a few gulps, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Okay. I’m good now.”

She turns back to Karina, tossing the empty glass somewhere on the carpet without looking. Her smile sharpens.

“Take off your panties.”

Karina's hands are already on the hem of her panties before Wonyoung even finishes the sentence. She kicks them off, a little clumsy, cheeks red but thighs pressed together, as if she’s trying to hide how wet she already is.

Wonyoung doesn’t even look at her for long. She turns her gaze to you and Sullyoon, still tangled together.

“Well, looks like you two are having fun.”

Sullyoon giggles, brushing hair behind her ear, resting her hand on your chest.

“He’s cute.”

Wonyoung’s face shifts immediately, stern.

“Don’t fucking treat it like a person,” she says, voice cold. “It’s a toy. Just a fucktoy. You don’t call your vibrator cute, do you?”

Sullyoon straightens up a little, nodding quickly.

“No. Right.”

Wonyoung smirks and walks over to the edge of the bed.

“Since you two already warmed it up, now it’s your turn to ride it, babe.”

Sullyoon doesn’t hesitate. She stretches out on her back right beside you, her eyes locked on yours. You look down at her and, fuck, she’s a masterpiece.

Long, flawless legs, skin pale and creamy, like she’s carved from glass and silk. Her legs are spread for you already, thick thighs leading up to plush hips that move slightly like she’s getting comfortable, preparing herself. There’s a little sheen between them, already wet, already throbbing.

Her torso is slim, but her curves are unreal, that perfect hourglass drawn to scale, with soft perky tits rising and falling with her breath, nipples stiff from arousal. Her eyes look up at you like she knows exactly what you are: just something to make her cum; and it makes your cock pulse hard all over again.

You’re climbing over her, lining up, and—

“Wait!” Karina whines from the side, still bottomless, fists clenched at her sides. “I thought it was my turn…”

Wonyoung doesn’t even look at her at first. Then she steps up, grabs Karina by the cheeks and squishes her face like a child being scolded.

“Aww, poor baby,” she mocks. “Thinking she gets what she wants.”

Karina huffs, pouting against Wonyoung’s grip. “I—”

“You don’t get to talk right now,” Wonyoung cuts in sharply, still holding her by the face. Then her expression softens slightly, eyes flicking toward Yuna, who’s just watching silently, smiling.

“Go open the drawer.”

Yuna nods and turns immediately, heading toward the bedside cabinet with a knowing look.

Wonyoung lets go of Karina’s face and turns back to the bed.

“Go on. Fuck her.”

Your hands plant on the bed on either side of Sullyoon’s head. She’s already got her knees up, heels digging into the mattress, guiding your hips toward her with her legs. You feel her hand grip your cock and guide it down between her legs, slick heat greeting the tip. She rubs you along her folds once, then twice, then lines you up. You push.

She lets out a low moan, head tilting back.

“God, you’re fucking big…”

You keep pressing in. Her pussy stretches around you, velvet heat swallowing you inch by inch, and she takes it all without even flinching, like she’s built for this. Her back arches slightly, tits rising toward your chest, and her mouth opens, breath catching.

“Fuck yes…”

From the corner of your eye, Wonyoung is still standing over Karina, whispering something into her ear while her fingers toy with one of her nipples. But you don’t get to look for long because Sullyoon pulls you down by the neck, her thighs trembling a little around your waist, and whispers against your lips:

“Go easy, okay?”

You nod, leaning down, brushing your lips over her cheek. “I promise.”

That makes her smile, and she reaches for your hands, guiding them down to her hips. You shift your weight, angle your hips, the head of your cock dragging along her wet folds. She’s soaked, pussy creamy from being teased and fingered, and when you start to push in slow—god—she tightens around you immediately.

“Oh my god… you’re thick… this cock is a fucking weapon.”

Her fingers dig into your arms, breathing fast now. “It’s the biggest I’ve ever… fuuuck, go slow, please, go slow…”

You don’t even need the reminder. She’s gripping you like a fist, squeezing you inch by inch as you sink deeper, her walls fluttering like she’s already close from just the stretch alone. You pause halfway in, hips twitching with restraint, watching her face melt into something caught between pain and pure fucking pleasure.

“I got you,” you murmur, stroking her side, kissing her collarbone. "If you want me to stop, just say so.”

Meanwhile, behind you, Yuna walks back in, holding a thick black anal plug in one hand and a shiny silver tube of lube in the other. Her smile is too wide, too excited. Karina sees her and visibly tenses, backing half a step toward the couch.

“Wait… what’s that for?” Karina’s voice is shaky, eyes locked on the plug like it’s going to jump at her.

Wonyoung grins like a devil in a model's body. “If you wanna feel cock today, you’re gonna need to offer up that cute little ass.”

Karina stammers, blinking. “I’ve… I’ve never done that…”

“I know,” Wonyoung says calmly, stepping forward. “Now get on all fours.”

Karina’s mouth opens like she’s about to argue, but she hesitates too long.

“Right now,” Wonyoung snaps. “Or get the fuck out.”

Silence. Then Karina slowly turns, face red, and lowers herself to her knees. She looks humiliated, turned on, afraid (everything Wonyoung seems to love). Her thick thighs ripple as she gets into position, ass high, cheeks clenched, legs trembling slightly.

Yuna kneels behind her and pats her ass once, affectionate. “You’re gonna love it,” she says softly. “It’s like… my favorite.”

Wonyoung flicks her wrist. “Prep her.”

Yuna grins. “Can I lick it first?”

Wonyoung rolls her eyes. “Yes. Obviously.”

Yuna wastes zero time. She spreads Karina’s cheeks, leans in, and starts to lick, slow broad strokes at first, then narrowing in, teasing her little hole with the tip of her tongue. Karina whimpers, cheeks burning red as she hides her face in her arms.

Meanwhile, Wonyoung strolls back to you and Sullyoon, casually watching as you slowly roll your hips forward again, burying a little more of yourself inside her. Sullyoon’s thighs shake, her hands fisting in the sheets now, every breath a moan.

Wonyoung stands beside the bed, arms crossed, smirking.

“Is she enjoying it?” she asks.

Sullyoon moans louder. “Yes… oh fuck yes, Wony… it’s fantastic…”

Wonyoung tsks. “Too slow.”

Before you can react, she slaps your ass, sharp and loud, fingers leaving a sting that burns hot through your skin.

“Faster,” she commands.

You grunt, your body reacting without hesitation. You grip Sullyoon tighter and start thrusting harder, deeper, the slow roll of your hips turning into something more brutal, more rhythmic. She cries out, legs locking tighter around you.

“Aaah—fuck-fuck, I can't, it's too big!”

Wonyoung laughs like she’s at a party, delighted, stepping back to watch your hips hammer into Sullyoon, her body bouncing under you, moans pouring out of her with every thrust. She grabs one of Sullyoon’s tits, squeezing it roughly, pinching the nipple until Sullyoon arches off the bed.

“Much better,” Wonyoung says, grinning. “Now that’s how you use a toy.”

Behind you, Karina’s moaning too. Muffled and high-pitched. Yuna’s fingers are buried between her cheeks, tongue still teasing. The plug rests beside them on the bed, gleaming, waiting for its turn. Karina’s legs are trembling harder now, her ass slick, her breathing short and fast. But Wonyoung’s eyes are on you. On your cock driving into Sullyoon like you’re trying to fuck the shape of her pussy into your hips, her moans turning ragged and desperate, tears starting to gather in the corners of her eyes as the pleasure crashes through her.

Karina’s face is buried in her forearms, but her back is arched high, thighs pressed together as tightly as they can be with Yuna nestled between them. She keeps letting out these soft, confused little gasps, tiny moans like she doesn’t know what her body is doing or why it’s starting to like it. Her ass cheeks twitch every time Yuna’s tongue flattens out and drags upward, slow and wet, lingering at her tight rim before she flicks the tip of her tongue over it again. Yuna hums like she’s savoring something sweet, both hands spreading Karina’s cheeks apart like she’s exposing a gift, holding her wide while she works her mouth.

“Mmh, you taste so good…” Yuna breathes, kissing the spot softly before swirling her tongue around again. “God, your little asshole’s clenching like it’s trying to kiss me.”

Karina’s breath hitches. “It—it feels weird…”

Yuna giggles into her skin. “Weird’s just code for new. Sensitive, huh?”

Karina nods fast, her voice muffled. “Yeah—yes, I—it’s really sensitive, I d-don’t know if I—”

“Shhh,” Yuna whispers against her. “Let it happen. You’ll like it. I promise.”

She presses her tongue flat again, dragging it in a circle this time, slow and teasing. Karina jolts, her hips shaking, one of her hands clutching at the sheets.

“I-it tickles—oh my god…”

From the bed, your eyes flicker toward them, and the image hits like a shot of lust straight to your chest: Yuna's pretty face buried between Karina’s shaking thighs, her mouth wet, eyes half-lidded with focus while she laps at her like she’s starving. Karina’s whole body shudders again, her back arching deeper. Her hole’s glistening now, twitching and helpless while Yuna traces it with delicate, skilled strokes.

And still, you’re balls-deep in Sullyoon.

She’s so tight you swear you’re being milked. Every thrust in makes her body tremble under yours, her fingers tangled in the sheets, jaw slack from the pleasure stretching her open. You go back to fucking her slowly, just like she asked, deep, controlled strokes, feeling her clench every time you bottom out, It's the only way for you not to cum because her pussy is impossible good, but the moans that keep spilling from her lips are fucking addictive, and you have to resist the urge to sink your entire cock into her pussy. Her moana are soft at first, then louder, sharper, her voice cracking as she starts pushing her hips up to meet yours, wanting more. Your hands tighten on her waist, and you pull back before thrusting in again, the sound of it wet and obscene, skin on skin. Her eyes are rolling back, and you’re getting lost in it. The heat, the pressure, the way her pussy grips you like it’s desperate to keep you inside.

From beside the bed, Wonyoung watches everything.

She’s seated now, legs crossed elegantly, but her eyes are burning with attention. Her lips curl into a smirk when she sees how hard you’re holding back, how tight your jaw is as you fight the urge to rail Sullyoon into the mattress.

“You’re being too gentle again,” she says, voice calm, but there’s that edge again, that dominance that makes your cock twitch even deeper inside Sullyoon.

You look at her, sweat starting to bead at your forehead. “She asked me to—”

“I didn’t ask what she said,” Wonyoung cuts you off. She leans forward, her gaze sharp. “Put your hand on her throat.”

Your heart skips. Sullyoon hears it too, she shivers under you, her pussy tightening, her voice going breathless.

“D-Do it,” she whispers.

You reach out, slow, sliding your hand up from her chest to her neck. She tilts her head back, offering herself up, your fingers curl around her throat, gentle but firm, and the way her whole body reacts, hips lifting to press you deeper, a high moan escaping her lips, is fucking unreal. Wonyoung smiles like a queen watching a jester perform on command.

“Better.”

You start moving again, your thrusts picking up pace, dragging your cock deep into Sullyoon while your hand tightens slightly around her throat. She whines, her fingers scrabbling at your arms, her eyes fluttering half-shut as her breathing turns into high, broken gasps. Her back arches, tits brushing against your chest, nipples stiff and flushed from the friction.

“I—ah—fuck, I can feel it in my stomach…”

“You love it,” Wonyoung says, watching her with hungry eyes. “Say it.”

“I l-love it—fuck, I love it—it’s s-so fucking thick, it’s splitting me—”

You groan, head dipping to kiss her neck, tongue tracing her pulse, your hips slamming into hers with more weight now, every thrust deep enough to make the bed creak.

Behind you, Yuna’s still at it. She’s licking deeper now, more focused, her thumbs spreading Karina’s cheeks wider so her tongue can press closer, firmer. Karina’s hips keep jerking away on instinct, but Yuna doesn’t let her go anywhere.

“Stop running,” Yuna murmurs. “Just let me make you feel good…”

Karina whimpers. “Y-Yuna—fuck—it’s—it’s so much, I—I don’t know if—”

“Just wait till I lube you up, baby,” Yuna says sweetly, biting down gently on the soft flesh of her ass. “Then we’ll really see how much you can take.”

She picks up the bottle finally, uncapping it with a pop, and squeezes some of the cold gel onto her fingers. But she doesn’t rush it. She dips one finger between Karina’s cheeks, rubbing slow, spreading the lube around the tight entrance while Karina trembles and gasps with every little push and tease.

Wonyoung turns to glance over her shoulder, watching Karina squirm.

“She better be ready soon,” she says lazily. “Or I’m plugging her dry.”

Karina moans out loud at that, almost in panic. “N-no, wait, I—I’ll try, I’m trying—”

“Then fucking stay still, slut!” Wonyoung snaps.

Yuna grins and adds a second finger, the lube making slick noises as she circles the rim, pushing gently but insistently.

“She’s gonna be ready,” Yuna promises. “This hole’s too cute to go to waste.”

Wonyoung turns back to you, eyes raking down your body, then landing on where your cock disappears into Sullyoon again and again.

“Keep that pace. Don’t let her cum yet. She doesn’t get to finish until I say so.”

You nod, not trusting your voice, focused on Sullyoon’s flushed face, the way she looks up at you like she’s drowning in every inch you give her. She bites her lip hard, her thighs twitching around your waist.

“Don’t stop,” she breathes. “Please don’t fucking stop…”

Yuna’s fingers glisten with lube as she finally stops teasing and starts pushing one inside Karina. Karina jolts forward with a gasp, her ass still high, thighs shaking. She wasn’t ready for how it’d feel (wet and slick, yes, but so deliberate). Yuna’s finger presses slow but firm, the lube squelching audibly as it disappears past the tight rim. Karina clenches around it, hips trying to buck away, but Yuna just holds her there, one hand gripping her waist.

“Holy shit,” Karina breathes. “It’s… f-fuck, it’s going in…”

Yuna smiles against her back. “Of course it is, babe. That hole’s got potential.”

Karina groans through her teeth, forehead pressed to her forearms again. “It’s so fucking weird, I—ah—shit, it’s burning a little—”

“That’s just the stretch. You’ll love it once it’s open,” Yuna coos, sliding her finger deeper until she’s knuckle-deep. “Tight as hell, though… God. Your ass is starving.”

Karina lets out a choked noise, somewhere between a moan and a whimper, and her legs twitch like she’s trying to stay still, even as her body reacts instinctively to the invasion.

“Stop clenching so much,” Yuna murmurs, moving her finger in shallow thrusts. “Let me in, Karina.”

Wonyoung, lounging beside the bed with her legs crossed and a slight sheen of sweat on her collarbones, doesn’t even look back at them.

“She’ll stop fighting it once the second finger goes in,” she mutters, eyes locked on you.

She points at Sullyoon’s trembling body beneath you, voice smooth but sharp:

“Bury it. All the way in. Now.”

You lock eyes with Sullyoon, her face flushed, eyes glassy, breath trembling, and she nods once, barely able to speak.

“Do it,” she whispers.

You shift your weight, grab her hips tighter, and push forward until your pelvis slams flush against her ass. Every thick, veiny inch of you is buried inside, and Sullyoon’s mouth drops open in a silent scream. Her eyes roll back immediately.

“OH MY FUHH—FUCK!!” she moans, her nails digging into your arms hard enough to draw blood. “It’s… all of it—fuck, I can feel it in my stomach, oh my god!”

Wonyoung lets out a quiet little laugh.

“She’s better like this,” she says, tilting her head. “More obedient. Tighter too, probably. Grip her neck again—tighter this time. Make my cute little slut cum.

You don’t hesitate. Your hand slides right back up, closing around Sullyoon’s throat, fingers pressing firmer now. Not choking her, but enough that she gasps and looks up at you with that fucked-out, submissive stare that sends blood rushing to your cock again.

Her voice comes out hoarse. “Harder, babe… please…”

You hold her there and start fucking her deep, slow, brutal strokes that make her tits bounce and her pussy gush around you. Every thrust hits her cervix like a drumbeat, and the little choking moans spilling out of her just egg you on. And behind you, Karina’s breathing has gone rapid and high-pitched. Yuna has two fingers in her now, both slick with lube, working them in and out in slow, deliberate pumps that have Karina rocking back against her without even realizing it.

“F-fuck, Yuna—stop, I-I’m gonna—gonna cum if you keep—fuck!” Karina moans, biting her own hand.

Yuna leans in, lips brushing Karina’s ear, breath hot. “Cum from a finger in your ass? That’s so fucking cute.” Karina’s whole body clenches, her ass twitching as Yuna scissors her fingers, stretching her open more with each motion. “You’re doing good, baby,” Yuna hums. “Almost ready…”

Wonyoung glances back now, amused. “Is the brat loosened up yet?”

Yuna smirks. “See for yourself.”

She pulls her fingers out slowly, the sound wet and filthy, then holds them up for Wonyoung to see: slick with lube and cream, glistening in the light. Karina’s still trembling on all fours, face buried, ass wet and twitching, her hole flexing involuntarily, stretched and needy. Wonyoung stands up, stretches, walks over like she owns the whole damn room (and she kind of does). She picks up the plug from the bed, weighing it in her hand, then crouches behind Karina.

Karina looks back, wide-eyed.

“Wait—wait, it’s big—fuck, I don’t know if I—”

Wonyoung slaps her ass hard enough to make her jolt. “You’re ready,” she says coldly. “Now stay still while I make you better.”

Yuna licks her fingers clean with a soft moan, then crouches back behind Karina like she’s settling into her favorite seat at a show. She plants her palms on Karina’s ass, spreading her cheeks wide, holding them apart so her tight, glistening little hole is fully exposed, twitching, raw and shining with lube and slick from her own juices. Karina’s breath stutters as she feels the air hit her, and her thighs shake like she might collapse, but Yuna keeps her wide, grinning like she’s already proud of the work they’ve done.

“Hold still, baby,” Yuna murmurs, her nails dimpling into Karina’s pale skin. “Let her give you your present.”

Wonyoung crouches low, plug in one hand, the lube-slicked tip already glistening under the soft lighting. She presses it right up against Karina’s hole, testing it. Karina gasps loud, her head lifting suddenly as her eyes fly open.

“Wait, wait, wait—f-fuck, Wonyoung, it’s big, I-I’m not ready, I—!”

Wonyoung doesn’t respond with words. She just applies pressure. The rounded head pushes inward, and Karina screams.

Her voice cracks like a sob, body lurching forward instinctively, but Yuna holds her in place with a grunt, gripping her hips like handlebars. Karina babbles through the pain, a slurry of panicked syllables and ragged breaths.

“Ah—ah—shit, oh my god, it’s too big, it’s too big—it burns—it fuckin’ burns!!”

“Then you shouldn’t have lied to me,” Wonyoung mutters, cool and detached, her hand steady as the thick plug stretches Karina wider with every slow, brutal inch. “You want cock, you get the punishment that comes first.”

Karina’s whole body trembles, ass clenched tight around the intruding plug, every inch sending more shockwaves of pain and humiliation through her. Her face is soaked with sweat already, lips parted in disbelief at how deep it’s going. Behind her, Yuna’s breath is hot, tongue flicking the edge of Karina’s ear as she leans over her back. “You sound so fucking hot like this,” she whispers. “You’re gonna be perfect once it’s all the way in. Such a good little plug slut.”

The scream Karina lets out next is sharp and raw, almost broken. You hear it, feel the vibration of it behind you like the air’s alive, and you’re still buried to the hilt in Sullyoon. Her legs are shaking around your hips, your hand’s still on her throat, and her pussy is pulsing, squeezing your cock like it’s trying to memorize it. The way Karina’s moaning next to her, screaming as she gets her ass opened, is fuel for Sullyoon. Her eyes roll back and her mouth drops open, chest rising and falling like she’s being devoured by the pleasure.

“I—I can’t—I can’t hold it!” she pants. “I’m gonna fucking cum—I swear—I can’t—oh my god kiss me, please, please kiss me, I wanna cum while you’re kissing me, I wanna feel your mouth when it hits—pleaseee!"

You don’t even hesitate. You lean down fast, your hand tightening on her throat just a little more as your mouth crashes into hers. Her lips are soft, wet, desperate. Her tongue meets yours immediately, greedy and wild, kissing you like she needs it more than air. The second your lips connect, she snaps. Her entire body tenses, heels digging into the bed, thighs clamping tight around your waist, and her pussy clamps down hard; a perfect vice, spasming and pulsing around your cock like she’s trying to pull you in even deeper. She lets out a high, shaking moan straight into your mouth, hands flying up to grab your face, kissing you harder, sloppier, while she cums in waves all over you. Your cock’s completely drenched now, soaked in her release, her body rocking beneath yours as the orgasm shakes through her like a storm, long and loud and so fucking hot you’re fighting every instinct not to unload inside her right there.

Wonyoung glances back, smirking, still pushing the plug deeper into Karina’s stretched hole with cruel precision. It’s almost fully in now, the thickest part parting Karina’s trembling rim, her voice hoarse from moaning and crying through the stretch.

“Look at that,” Wonyoung says, eyes on Karina but voice raised just enough to carry. “While you’re getting your tight little asshole split by a plug, Sullyoon’s over here creaming herself on cock like it’s the best day of her life.”

Karina sobs out a moan, too far gone to respond, just breathing raggedly while the final inch of the plug sinks in, slow and merciless.

“You jealous yet?” Wonyoung whispers near her ear. “You wanted this. You chose this. And now you get to be plugged up like a good little toy while someone else gets her guts rearranged.”

Yuna’s still holding Karina open, watching the plug disappear inside her with awe and glee.

“Almost there,” she says, licking her lips. “You’re taking it so well…”

Karina’s still panting into the mattress, arms trembling, her ass raised with the thick plug now buried deep inside, barely visible except for the slick base nestled between her swollen cheeks. Her eyes are glassy, cheeks streaked with a flush of sweat and tears, and her thighs are twitching from the slow, rhythmic throbbing inside her. She lifts her head slightly, voice weak but hopeful.

“S-So… what happens now?” Her words come out breathy, unsure. “Is it… is it my turn?”

Wonyoung doesn’t answer right away. She stands upright with a smug little stretch, licking the edge of her finger clean from guiding the plug in, her expression sharp with amusement. Then she lets out a dry, condescending chuckle.

“Not yet.” Karina blinks at her, blinking fast like she misheard. Wonyoung tilts her head, smiling cruelly. “Yuna hasn’t had a turn with that cock yet.”

Karina’s shoulders sag, and her face collapses into a tired, frustrated sigh. She lets her head fall back down onto her arms with a faint groan, too wrecked to protest more than that.

Yuna laughs, light, teasing, and smacks Karina’s ass again, right on the plug, making her yelp and jerk forward with a strangled moan.

“Be patient, princess,” Yuna grins. “You’ve already got a little friend stuffed in there to keep you busy. Don’t be greedy.”

Wonyoung shoots her a quick glance, neither amused nor annoyed, just sharp. Always sharp.

“Yuna,” she says flatly, “he’s ready.”

Yuna turns her head to you and waves a finger, grinning wide like a cat with cream on its tongue. “Come here, toy. Sit down. Edge of the bed.”

You obey immediately, there’s no part of your brain even pretending to fight it anymore. You climb off Sullyoon, who’s still panting and glowing from her orgasm, and move to the edge of the bed. Your thighs ache. Your cock is glistening with her slick, flushed dark, veiny, painfully hard. You sit down, muscles twitching from exertion, and look up as Yuna struts toward you. She turns around and backs herself up, settling her toned legs against yours, ass grazing your thigh, there’s a golden sheen of sweat clinging to her lower back and the curve of her ass cheeks glistening as she lowers herself onto you.

“You can touch me,” she says, glancing over her shoulder with a wink. “I’m not Wonyoung.”

Your hands rise instinctively, gripping her slim waist. She’s warm under your fingers, tight and toned. Yuna’s body is fucking unreal; lean but thick where it counts. Her waist is slim, but her hips flare out wide, ass plump and round with the kind of bounce that makes it impossible not to stare. Her thighs are powerful, soft over muscle, her skin is smooth, flawless, with that slight golden glow under the lights.

You squeeze her hips a little, breath catching in your throat.

“Fuck, you’re… perfect,” you mutter. “You’re fucking hot.”

Yuna giggles, rolling her hips back just enough to brush your cock against her folds.

“You know how to sweet talk a girl,” she purrs.

But Wonyoung’s voice slices in before you can say anything more.

“Stop talking to him like he matters.”

Yuna turns slightly, side-eyeing her with a sigh.

“Wonyoung…”

Wonyoung crosses her arms, eyes narrowing.

“He’s not your boyfriend. He’s not your friend. He’s a cock. A cumdump. A toy we’re borrowing for a good time, then tossing out.”

Yuna rolls her eyes, positioning your thick head right at her entrance, her slick folds gliding over it as she angles her hips.

“You’re so fucking cruel sometimes,” she mutters under her breath. “Let a bitch have one moment.”

And then she sinks down.

Your breath punches out of you like you’ve been hit. Her pussy is molten hot, wet, gripping the crown of your cock so tight you’re not even sure you’re going to get more than an inch in. She moans, sharp and rough, her hands bracing on your thighs.

“Jesus fucking fuck, it’s… it’s so big, holy shit—”

She pauses, knees shaking, muscles tense as she eases herself lower. Behind you, the mattress dips again as Sullyoon crawls back up, her skin flushed pink, hair a little messy, that dreamy post-orgasm look still painted across her face. But her eyes are focused on Karina now.

Karina hasn’t moved, still on all fours, ass stuffed, hair sticking to her cheeks, panting. Sullyoon leans in, wraps her arms around her waist gently from behind, pressing their bodies close.

“Hey,” Sullyoon whispers, brushing Karina’s sweaty hair off her cheek. “You okay?”

Karina nods slowly, leaning back into her friend’s touch.

“It hurts,” she says quietly, breath shivering. “But… not in a bad way.”

Sullyoon presses a soft kiss to her shoulder, then another to her neck.

“I’ll take care of you,” she promises, pulling Karina closer. Her arms wrap tighter, soothing. “You were so brave.”

Karina’s lips part to answer, but Sullyoon’s already leaning in again, this time pressing her mouth to Karina’s. Their kiss is gentle, slow, nothing like the desperation you’ve been drowning in all night. Their tongues meet, slow and lazy, tasting each other with softness that's somehow kind of hot. But Sullyoon’s hand starts to slide down Karina’s belly, grazing over her trembling thighs, fingertips dancing toward her pussy.

“Let me help you feel good,” she murmurs, her fingers slide between Karina’s legs, just brushing her slick folds—

“Stop right there.”

Wonyoung’s voice is sharp, cold steel. Both girls freeze. She strides over, her eyes locked on Sullyoon like a schoolteacher catching someone cheating. “She doesn’t get help,” Wonyoung says, grabbing Sullyoon’s wrist and pulling her hand away. “She didn’t earn it. Let her sit with the plug for a while.”

Sullyoon swallows, pulling her hands back respectfully, returning to holding Karina with just arms and lips now, keeping her warm but not touching further. Karina sighs into her mouth, kissing her again slowly, eyes fluttering closed. Meanwhile, Yuna’s moaning as she forces another inch of you inside her. Her pussy is soaking, clenching like crazy, her breath stuttering as she lowers herself little by little, adjusting with every thick ridge you press past her walls.

“Goddamn,” she gasps, laughing breathlessly. “It’s like—I don’t even—fuck, how do you carry this around without passing out?”

You grip her waist tighter, watching her ass ripple as she eases further down. Her thighs flex with every movement, sweat rolling down her spine as she moans louder.

“You’re so tight,” you groan, digging your fingers into her hips.

“Yeah?” she pants, twisting her hips to get the angle right. “Well, this pussy doesn’t play, baby.” Then she gasps sharp, eyes wide. “Shit! There we go—fuck—there it is—!”

She finally bottoms out, her ass slapping against your lap, every inch of your cock buried in her slick, clenching heat. She leans forward, chest heaving, moaning low in her throat like she’s drunk on it.

“Oh my god,” she laughs, trembling. “It’s inside. It’s fucking in.”

And from across the room, Wonyoung watches with a satisfied little smile, voice cutting clean through the soft gasps and stifled kisses. “Good. Now ride him.” Then, to Karina, still squirming in Sullyoon’s arms: “Take notes. You’re next.”

Yuna starts to move with that kind of self-aware sensuality that makes your brain turn to soup. Her hips roll in slow, hypnotic circles as she grinds her soaked pussy down on your cock, using her entire body like she’s showing it off just for you, every shift, every drag of her slick walls over your length is deliberate. She knows how tight she is, how good she feels, and she’s savoring every reaction you can’t hide. You’re still seated at the edge of the bed, thighs flexed, hands gripping her waist like your life depends on it, and she just rides, slow and deep, her ass clapping lightly against your lap with each bounce, like a steady rhythm meant to tease.

She leans back against you, pressing her spine to your chest, arms raised, looping her hands around your neck while her breath rolls out in these soft little gasps. “Mmm… you like that?” she purrs, grinding down hard and slow again, making your cock throb inside her. “So deep… so fucking thick…”

Your fingers twitch on her hips. You’re trying so hard not to snap, not to grab her and slam her down on you until she screams, not to break that rhythm, even though your cock is pulsing with the need to unload.

Sullyoon watches from the bed, her head tilted as she strokes Karina’s hair gently, the other girl now slumped in her lap, the plug still buried deep in her ass, legs slightly parted. Karina’s out of breath, still flushed and shivering, lips swollen from their kissing. Sullyoon’s gaze flicks from Yuna’s bouncing hips back to you, a grin tugging at her mouth.

“You know,” she says, softly but loud enough for all to hear, “he deserves some fucking credit for not blowing already.”

Wonyoung raises an eyebrow, arms crossed. She doesn’t interrupt, just watches. Yuna chuckles breathlessly as she grinds her hips again, this time harder, clenching on your cock as she lifts and sinks, her thighs flexing with every controlled motion. “Mmm, right? He’s being such a good boy,” she coos, rolling her hips, her voice dipping to a low murmur. “Holding back like that, keeping it in. Such good control…”

She pauses, sitting all the way down on you again, then leans forward with a grin, twisting to look at your face. Her hand slides down, past your stomach, and cups your balls through the base of her pussy. The squeeze is careful but firm, her fingers exploring the weight of them as her grin widens.

“Shit,” she says under her breath. “These are so full. They feel heavy as fuck.” She lifts her hips a little, stroking your length from the inside with her muscles, then settles back down with a wet slap, her ass jiggling from the impact. “There’s probably a lot in there by now,” she teases. “You’ve been holding it in through Sullyoon riding you, Karina moaning with a plug stuffed in her ass, me grinding your cock like it’s my job… damn, when you finally blow, it’s gonna be fucking insane, isn’t it?”

You grunt, tightening your grip on her waist, your abs flexing from the effort it takes not to cum right then and there. Every time she lifts off you, your cock throbs in the air, aching for release. When she slides back down, slow and snug, your balls tighten under her hand. She keeps touching them, rolling them in her palm as she rocks her hips in slow figure-eights, her walls clenching rhythmically around your shaft. You can barely breathe. Every second she draws it out is another second closer to your breaking point.

Behind her, Karina moans faintly, still flushed, her voice muffled against Sullyoon’s shoulder. Sullyoon’s fingers stroke her back now, soothing, her eyes watching Yuna like she’s impressed. She laughs lightly.

“I think he’s gonna pass out if you keep doing that,” she says.

Yuna grins and kisses your neck, her lips soft and teasing. “Not yet,” she whispers. “He hasn’t earned it yet.”

Yuna’s movements shift from teasing to needy, the playfulness in her hips giving way to urgency. She's been riding you for minutes that feel like hours, slow and deep, drawing out every drop of pleasure like it’s foreplay for herself. But it’s not. Her rhythm’s breaking. Her thighs start trembling every time she lifts herself off your cock, her breath catching in her throat with these sharp little gasps, lips parted and swollen, chest heaving against her bra. You feel her pussy start to pulse around you; tightening and fluttering with every downward drop, every slap of her ass against your thighs… her body chasing something she’s trying to hold off, but it’s not working anymore.

She lets out a louder moan, sharp and cracking.

“F-fuck… I’m close… fuck, I’m so close…”

She doesn’t stop riding you, if anything, she moves faster, grinding her clit against your pelvis with every bounce, her hands grabbing onto your shoulders now, nails biting into your skin for leverage. Her voice trembles when she speaks again, a whisper at first, then louder, breathless and wild.

“Don’t hold back, don’t fucking hold back—fuck me—fuck me hard—make me cum!”

Fuck, that's all you wanted to hear.

Your fingers clamp down on her waist, and you slam her down onto your cock, hard, your hips jerking upward at the same time, bottoming out deep inside her with a wet, brutal smack. She screams (a real one) choked and high, head snapping back as her pussy clamps down on you like a vice. You don’t give her time to breathe. You start fucking her like your brain’s gone, your hands guiding her body up and down on your cock, her thighs clapping against your hips, the bed frame groaning from the weight of your thrusts. It’s all messy now, no rhythm, just raw need, your cock punching into her soaked, fluttering cunt again and again, harder each time. Yuna’s moans are desperate now. Loud, cracked, real. She slams her palm between her legs, fingers going straight to her clit, rubbing fast and sloppy, hips bucking into her own hand, mouth falling open with every spasm of pleasure that racks her body.

“Oh god—oh my fucking god—yes—right there—right there—don’t stop, don’t fucking stop!!!”

She’s babbling, voice broken, almost sobbing from how deep you’re buried inside her. Her whole body is tight, coiled like a spring, legs twitching, her stomach tensing with every thrust, her clit swollen and soaked from how hard she’s been rubbing. Wonyoung steps forward slowly, eyes locked on the scene, and her voice is like a whip crack.

“Make her cum. Now.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You slam her down again, burying every thick inch into her, your grip bruising tight as your cock throbs inside her fluttering heat. Yuna’s hand is a blur between her legs, her voice pitching into a scream.

“I’m cumming—I’m fucking cumming—fuck, it’s too much—”

Her entire body goes stiff in your lap. Then it hits.

She explodes with a scream, shaking violently as the orgasm overtakes her, every muscle locking up. Her pussy grips you like it’s trying to crush you, pulsing and spasming around your cock as waves of heat roll through her core. Her legs kick out, her back arches, and she clings to your shoulders like she’s drowning. Her thighs spasm against your hips, her fingers digging into your chest now, nails scraping down your skin.

You hold her there, not moving anymore, just feeling her ride the wave, her cunt milking you in hard, rhythmic squeezes. She keeps twitching, little cries spilling from her lips as she rides every aftershock, her pussy making these messy, obscene noises with every throb, her clit still pulsing from the overload.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck—” she gasps, collapsing forward against you, face buried in your neck, breath ragged, sweat pouring down her back. You wrap your arms around her, holding her close while she trembles and whimpers against your skin. It takes a full minute for her to calm down, her thighs still twitching, her chest rising and falling like she just ran a marathon.

Then Wonyoung clears her throat.

“That’s enough,” she says flatly.

Yuna groans in protest but slowly lifts herself off your cock, her legs shaking under her weight, your cock sliding free with a wet, messy squelch, still rock-hard and soaked in her cum. She stumbles over to the bed, collapsing onto it face-down with a heavy exhale, ass still wobbling from the force of the ride.

Sullyoon leans over with a little grin, raises her hand, and smacks her ass hard, right over the reddened skin. Revenge. The sound echoes, and Yuna yelps, jolting slightly.

“Damn, Yuna,” Sullyoon giggles. “You rode him like a fucking demon.”

Yuna mumbles something into the mattress, breathless and ruined, one hand reaching back to rub her sore cheek.

“Shut up and gimme five minutes…”

Wonyoung just smirks and turns to Karina.

“Now. Your turn. Get back on all fours.”

Karina obeys without speaking. Her knees sink into the mattress, palms bracing in front of her as she positions herself, ass high, head down, breathing slow and shaky. She doesn’t look back. Wonyoung steps forward without a word, crouching behind her, and places her hand on the base of the plug. Karina whines at the touch alone, thighs twitching inward.

“Be still.”

Karina nods and braces.

Wonyoung slides the plug out in one smooth, slow pull. Karina gasps, her back arches, a broken moan ripping from her throat as her rim stretches wide then closes again, twitching, raw and gaping. Slick lube coats the plug’s shaft, creamy and glistening, and Wonyoung sets it down with a little smirk, running her fingers lightly along Karina’s ass just to watch her shiver.

“You were obedient,” Wonyoung says, almost fond. “You stayed plugged like a good girl. You followed every fucking order.”

Karina’s breath catches, hope flickering in her voice. “So I can… finally…?”

Wonyoung smiles. “Yes.” She turns her head toward you and snaps her fingers. “Come here, freak. She’s earned her reward.”

You’re already moving before she finishes the sentence. You’re still hard, aching, throbbing, and you can barely think through it, but the tension in the room makes you slow your steps.

“But,” Wonyoung says, raising her voice just enough to stop you in your tracks, “it’s going in her ass.”

Karina’s entire body stiffens. Her head whips around, wide-eyed, lips parting in stunned disbelief. “W-what…?”

Wonyoung steps to the side, folding her arms again. “If you want to cum tonight, it’s going to be on his cock—in your ass.”

Karina’s voice cracks. “But—it’ll hurt—fuck, I’ve never—Wonyoung, please, that’s—”

“I didn’t ask,” Wonyoung cuts her off coldly. “You can take it. You want your orgasm? Then shut the fuck up and take what you’re given.”

Yuna lets out a delighted little gasp, grinning like Christmas came early. “Oh my god, this is gonna be so good…”

Sullyoon, already on the bed beside her, frowns faintly, brushing a hand over Karina’s shoulder. “You don’t have to if—”

“She’s doing it,” Wonyoung says, turning her glare on Sullyoon, who backs off immediately, hands up in surrender. Karina swallows hard, her face still red, eyes darting between the three of you, and then, finally, she nods. Hesitant. Reluctant. But nodding.

“I’ll do it…” she says quietly, glancing at you. “But please—go slow…”

You step closer, gently resting your hand on her back, fingers brushing up her spine.

“I will,” you whisper. “I promise.”

Wonyoung clicks her tongue.

“He doesn’t make the rules,” she mutters. “But yes—slow, obviously. Now do your fucking job.”

You nod once and slide your hand down Karina’s lower back, palm splayed over the dip just above her ass. Her body tenses, breath hitching at your touch, but she doesn’t pull away. She’s trembling, terrified and aroused all at once, and your stomach knots in that strange way again, torn between lust and something dangerously close to care.

Yuna’s suddenly right beside you, grinning, holding the bottle of lube in one hand.

“Here,” she says cheerfully, popping the cap and squeezing a generous line along your cock. It’s cold, shocking against your skin, but you grunt as she smears it in with her hand, slow and thorough. “We’ll make sure she’s nice and slick.”

Then she moves behind Karina, spreading her cheeks again with one hand, and pours more lube directly onto her twitching hole.

Karina whimpers.

“Gotta help her too,” Yuna says, rubbing it in with two fingers, slow circles that make Karina gasp and moan. “Poor baby’s so tight…”

Once everything’s coated, Yuna pats your cock and steps back, clapping her hands. “Alright, stud. She’s ready.”

You grip your shaft, position yourself, and slide forward, just the tip pressing against her entrance. The resistance is immediate. Hot and tight and trembling. Karina sucks in a breath through clenched teeth. You pause, lean down, whisper against her ear.

“Tell me if it’s too much.”

She nods without looking up. “Just… slow. Please…”

You push forward a little. Even just the head feels like a violation. Her body shudders, a loud moan breaking from her lips, half pain, half disbelief.

“Oh—oh fuck! it’s huge!”

You stop again, one hand on her hip, the other stroking her back. You wait for her to breathe, to settle. Then you start again. Millimeter by millimeter, your cock stretches her open, and Karina whines through her teeth, fists clenching the sheets, toes curling. Her thighs are soaked, slick drips down the insides of her legs, proof that pain and arousal have long since blurred. Every few seconds, you stop, just long enough for her to catch her breath, before you push a little deeper.

“God,” Sullyoon whispers from behind, hugging a pillow to her chest, eyes wide. “He’s really doing it…”

Yuna sits beside her, fascinated. “Look at her hole,” she says gleefully. “It’s fucking swallowing him.”

Karina cries out again as another inch slips in.

“F-fuck, it’s—too big—please—”

“You’re doing amazing,” you murmur, and you mean it. “Just a little more…”

Her body clamps down, squeezing you like it’s trying to push you out and pull you in at the same time. You slow down again, your cock slick and throbbing, the pressure unbelievable, her body wrapping around you tighter than anything you’ve ever felt.

Wonyoung watches it all from the corner of the bed, arms crossed, lips curled into a quiet, satisfied smile.

“That’s it,” she purrs. “Stretch her out. She’ll never forget it.”

Karina’s moans rise in pitch, her body soaked with sweat now, ass flushed and stretched, you're still halfway in, cock glistening with lube and Karina’s juices, your hands gripping her hips like she’ll drift away if you let go. Her body is trembling under you: legs shaking, back arched, her forehead pressed to the sheets. Her moans come in shaky bursts, broken syllables spilling from her lips between gasps. You’re going slow (agonizingly slow) but even that feels like too much for her. The pressure is overwhelming. The stretch makes her wince with every inch, but she hasn’t told you to stop yet, and her soaked thighs betray the truth: she’s aching for it, terrified of it, and turned on beyond words.

You keep your pace steady, pushing in another inch. She cries out, voice cracking, one hand flying back to grip your wrist.

“S-stop—please—I can’t—it’s too much—!”

You freeze immediately, body tense, chest heaving as you struggle to not blow from the way she squeezes around you, like a velvet vice locked in desperation. Sweat drips from your forehead onto her lower back as you hold yourself there, just breathing, feeling her twitch and clench around the thick girth pulsing inside her. Your cock’s only a little more than halfway in, but the look on her face says she’s already overwhelmed.

Her face is buried in the sheets, bright red and dripping with sweat. Her eyes are shut tight, lips parted in a silent moan. And between her legs, her pussy is dripping, messy and obscene, leaving trails down her thighs. She’s shaking from the stretch, but she’s dripping from the want. It’s chaos, and her body is split right down the middle. Wonyoung shifts on the bed beside her, standing now, arms folded across her chest. Her gaze drops to where you’re still inside Karina’s ass, her head tilting slightly. Cool and calculated.

“How much?” she asks you. Her voice is flat, but curious.

You glance down your shaft. “Little more than half.”

She kneels beside Karina, brushing strands of hair from her face, then leans in close. Karina’s still gasping, unable to speak. Wonyoung looks back up at you.

“That’s enough.”

You pause, nodding, your cock twitching from the pressure building between restraint and raw, near-painful pleasure.

“Start moving,” Wonyoung commands. “Let her feel what she earned.”

You shift your grip on Karina’s hips, sliding your hands up her waist as your thighs tense. She lets out a shaky, helpless sound when you pull back just a couple inches, her body clenching again, like she doesn’t want to let you go, and then you push forward again, slow and deep, not adding more depth but grinding within what she can take.

Karina groans—long and broken.

“Fffuuckk…” she moans into the mattress, hips quaking. “It’s so big, so thick, I can’t believe you’re in my ass… fuck—it’s too much—it’s so full…”

You move again, withdrawing slightly and thrusting slowly back in. Her body jerks with each motion, every slow grind making her rim flutter, her ass stretched and twitching. The sensation has your spine tingling, a tight, searing heat wrapping around your cock like wet silk squeezed over bone. Yuna leans over the edge of the bed, eyes wide with awe, a dirty grin painted across her face.

“She’s taking it like a champ,” she says, grinning. “Look at her—look at that grip. Holy shit.”

Sullyoon’s perched at the headboard, arms hugging her knees, watching with this mix of sympathy and raw curiosity. Her cheeks are pink, eyes wide, lips parted.

“She’s doing so good…” she whispers. “I don’t think I could…”

Wonyoung leans in and cups Karina’s cheek gently, tilting her face so she can see her expression. Karina’s eyes flutter open; glassy, unfocused, filled with overwhelmed heat.

“You’re not gonna forget this,” Wonyoung murmurs, a little smile touching her lips. “No one ever forgets their first real stretch.”

Karina whines, biting her lip, trying to stay still as your hips begin to find a rhythm. You rock into her gently, each thrust short and slow, giving her body time to adjust while her moans grow louder, more broken. Her thighs glisten with arousal, and her hands fist the sheets so tight her knuckles go white.

“I-it’s too good,” she sobs out. “I didn’t know it would feel like this—why does it feel so fucking good?”

You thrust a little deeper, not by much, just enough to push the limits she’s already enduring. Her moan cuts off into a gasp, her body twitching under yours, and you swear you feel her pussy throb at the same time; her cunt untouched, but soaking like it’s getting fucked just from how your cock is stretching her ass.

Your hand slides to her lower back, stroking it gently, whispering low.

“You’re doing perfect, Karina. So fucking good…”

Her answer’s a raw moan, her ass arching slightly, offering you better access without even thinking. You start grinding deeper into her with more confidence, your cock gliding through her slickened hole in a slow, punishing rhythm that has her gasping every time your hips press against her. Yuna slides closer, one hand slipping between Karina’s thighs, hovering just above her glistening folds but not touching.

“You’re dripping all over the bed,” she says. “You love this, huh? Getting your ass fucked by the cock you ran from?”

Karina sobs into the sheets, too fucked out to answer.

Wonyoung circles behind you like a queen inspecting her soldiers, her gaze drops to the slick, stretched spot where your cock disappears into Karina’s ass, the loud, wet rhythm of your thrusts filling the room in obscene contrast to Karina’s trembling moans. Your grip is still tight on her hips, your pace steady, giving her the depth she can handle, but not much more than that.

Wonyoung exhales sharply, almost bored. “Pick up the fucking pace.” Her voice snaps through the air like a whip. “Make her scream, freak."

Before you even register the shift, her hand cuts down hard against Karina’s ass, a brutal, open-palmed slap that sends a jolt through her entire body. Karina cries out, her head lifting from the mattress, her back arching, eyes wide as her moan turns into something raw and sharp. You grit your teeth and follow the order. Your hips slam forward, the new rhythm vicious and unrelenting. Every stroke now punches into Karina’s stretched ass with a thick, wet slap, your cock sliding deeper with each thrust, balls slapping against her soaked thighs. The change is instant. She screams, loud, guttural, her hands scrabbling at the sheets, her voice cutting through the air with no filter, no shame.

“Ah—ahhh fuck—it’s too much—too much!”

You don’t slow down. You can’t. Not when Wonyoung’s standing behind you with that look in her eyes. Not when Karina’s body keeps pushing back against you like it wants every inch. Her tits bounce violently with every impact, full and heavy, swinging under her with each slam of your hips, her nipples dragging against the sheets.

Wonyoung steps forward and grabs a fistful of Karina’s hair, yanking her head up so her moaning face is fully exposed.

“This what you wanted, Karina?” she snarls, leaning down near her ear. “You begged for this cock. You begged to cum tonight. You begged for your fucking ass to be split open, and now you’re fucking screaming. Is this what you wanted?”

Karina sobs and nods through it, eyes wild, drool slipping from the corner of her mouth as she cries out, “Yes! Oh my god yes, yes, yes—please—fuck, don’t stop!”

“Pathetic,” Wonyoung mutters, releasing her hair with a shove that makes Karina collapse forward again, her ass thrust up perfectly for more abuse. Then she looks at you, her expression hard. “And you,” she snaps. “Look at you. Huffing and panting like a fucking dog. You two deserve each other. Ruin this lying slut!”

You grab Karina’s hips tighter, your pace going savage now, hammering her with everything you’ve got. Her voice breaks into a string of high-pitched moans and screams, every thrust punching into her ass with punishing force, her body bouncing forward from the impact. The clap of flesh on flesh echoes through the room, her sweat-slick thighs shaking as she takes it, her pussy dripping onto the sheets like a faucet, untouched and soaked. Wonyoung watches the chaos she’s orchestrated, arms crossed again, a twisted smile forming at the corners of her lips.

“Fuck her until she forgets her name.”

Your hands stay locked on Karina’s hips, holding her firm, thumbs digging into the curves just above her ass as your cock pistons in and out of her stretched, twitching hole. She’s beyond trying to speak in full thoughts now; just babbling, moaning, her mouth open and drooling against the sheets, words falling from her like she’s half-delirious. Her spine arches deeper with each thrust, every part of her trembling as you slam into her again and again, the obscene slap of your hips meeting her ass echoing through the room, wet and brutal.

Her voice jumps pitches without warning, cracking with raw pleasure. There’s no control left in her body. Her thighs are shaking, her arms weak, her pussy glistening untouched beneath her as it drips onto the bed from the pressure alone. You watch the muscles in her ass flex and quiver with every movement of your cock, your shaft stretching her open wider than she’s ever taken, buried inside her like you’re trying to reach her fucking soul.

Yuna leans in from the edge of the bed, laughing in this low, teasing purr that’s half arousal and half mocking delight.

“Holy shit. Look at her. She’s gonna cum just from taking it in the ass like a fucking whore.”

Karina whimpers something into the sheets, something like no or yes or both at once, but her eyes are rolled back, jaw slack, her moans breaking apart like she doesn’t even understand her own body anymore. You keep going. Your thrusts stay relentless. The heat of her body, the grip of her ass around your cock, the way her hips bounce and jerk under you with every impact: it’s pure addiction. You feel her starting to tighten even more, impossibly tight, her whole body locking up like she’s about to snap in half, and her moans spiral into a high, broken whine.

“F-fuck—oh my god, it’s too—ahhh—it’s too much, I’m gonna—I can’t!”

She’s drooling onto the sheets, arms weak, knuckles white from gripping the bedding like it’s all that’s keeping her grounded. Her back arches deeper, like her body’s trying to get away and get more at the same time. Her ass swallows your cock with this obscene wet sound, slick with lube and her own mess, but so fucking tight you can feel every spasm as her rim flutters around your shaft. You glance at Karina’s face; she’s a fucking wreck. Eyes rolled back, mouth open, sweat dripping down her neck. She’s not looking at anyone, just moaning, gasping, shaking. Her pussy’s untouched, but it looks already mid-orgasm, creamy and glistening between her thighs. You slam your cock into her again, and she jolts, sobbing out a half-word, half-wail.

“I’m close,” she gasps out suddenly, louder this time. “I’m—fuck—I’m gonna cum!”

Wonyoung steps forward slowly, arms folded, eyes locked on Karina like she’s waiting to pull the trigger. “Then cum.” Karina’s whole body jerks at the sound of her voice. “Cum now,” Wonyoung growls. “I want to watch you lose it.”

You slam into her again, deeper, faster—and that’s it. That’s all it takes.

Karina screams.

She screams like her body’s being ripped open and baptized at the same time, her voice breaking as her ass clamps down around your cock like a vice, spasming, pulsing, gripping you like she’s trying to suck every drop of cum out of you without you even releasing yet. Her thighs twitch violently, knees buckling beneath her, and she collapses onto the bed fully, her face buried in the mattress, her whole body convulsing as she cums hard from her ass alone.

“Fuuuuck—oh fuck I’M CUMMING! Oh my god—fuck-fuck-fuck!!”

Her pussy gushes under her, untouched and throbbing, slick running down her thighs like her whole body’s melting. Her back arches once, twice, then drops, but she keeps shaking, every nerve lit up like she’s been plugged into a live wire. Her fists are tight in the sheets, her mouth open, drool and moans pouring out without rhythm.

She’s sobbing now, babbling through the aftershocks.

“I—oh god, I didn’t know—I can’t stop, I’m still cumming, I can’t stop, It's so good, it's so fucking good…”

You’re still inside her, cock twitching with every clench of her hole, but you don’t move, just hold her there, one hand still locked on her waist, the other stroking her back like you’re trying to keep her from slipping through the mattress.

Yuna’s staring in disbelief, biting her lip, cheeks flushed.

“She just fucking came… from her ass,” she breathes. “That was the hottest shit I’ve ever seen.”

Sullyoon crawls closer, eyes wide and sparkling with awe, her hand hovering near Karina’s trembling shoulder. “Is she okay?” she whispers.

“She’s perfect,” Wonyoung says flatly, stepping beside her and crouching. She brushes Karina’s hair off her face. “She came like a filthy little anal slut. And she needed that.” There’s a moment of silence, then Wonyoung looks at you. “Your turn,” she says flatly. “You’ve been edging like a good little bitch all night. Now you give us your cum.”

You’re still buried in Karina’s ass, but the moment she hears Wonyoung’s voice shift like that, she groans softly and starts to lift herself. Her whole body shivers as she slowly slides off your cock, her asshole fluttering open before clenching tight, empty, twitching from the stretch. Your entire length is gleaming with slick, twitching hard as it’s exposed to the air again. You reach up, help steady Karina. She’s weak, legs barely holding her. Her skin’s flushed deep pink, her eyes half-lidded with exhaustion, sweat dripping down her chest. She stumbles a bit, and you help ease her down. She kneels, then braces herself upright, arms shaking, tits rising and falling with each breath. Her mouth is still parted, cheeks red, eyes dazed, but she’s looking up at you, obedient, waiting.

Wonyoung watches with one eyebrow raised.

“You made it this far,” she mutters. “Color me shocked. Most guys would’ve been pumping their load into a tissue in the first ten minutes.”

Yuna giggles, kneeling in front of you, her eyes still sparkling with a manic energy. “That’s because you scare the cum out of most guys just by walking into the room, Wony. They probably blow their load just thinking about disappointing you.”

“It’s a talent,” Wonyoung shrugs, a picture of regal indifference, though her eyes are fixed on your straining cock with an unnerving focus. She runs the tip of her tongue over her plump lower lip. “But you,” she says, “you don’t have to hold back anymore. You’ve been a good little freak, edging for us all night. Now it’s time for your reward… or perhaps, our reward from you.”

Sullyoon moves next, a quiet, graceful wraith in the dimly lit room. She slides up beside Karina and brushes a stray strand of hair behind Karina’s ear, then leans in to press a soft, lingering kiss to her cheek. Karina leans into the touch, a soft whimper escaping her lips, her body trembling almost imperceptibly. Sullyoon rests a comforting hand on Karina’s thigh, her thumb stroking gently, before turning her full attention to you. Her eyes, usually wide with an innocent curiosity, are now dark, dilated, and utterly captivated by the sight of your huge cock.

You’re standing now, swaying slightly, your body a live wire of overstimulated nerves. Your cock is a flushed, angry purple, pulsing with a life of its own, veins snaking across its thick shaft like swollen rivers. It’s utterly drenched, glistening from base to tip with a disgusting, beautiful cocktail of the slick lube Yuna had applied earlier, and the clear, sticky juices that seeped from Karina’s ass as you stretched her. It’s still leaking pre-cum—one fat, pearly droplet hanging precariously from the swollen head, threatening to fall. The ache in your balls is a relentless, throbbing agony, a heavy, full sensation that promises an explosive release. Every inch of your skin is buzzing, screaming with a desperate, almost painful need.

Yuna, never one for patience, has already wrapped her surprisingly strong fingers around the base of your shaft, her touch possessive and demanding.

“Fuck, you’re so hard,” she whispers, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and greedy anticipation. She gives you a preliminary squeeze, making you grunt. “He’s still this fucking hard? After being inside four of us? You didn’t cum once?” Her voice is incredulous, a hint of challenge in it.

“Not yet,” Sullyoon breathes. She licks her lips slowly, her gaze unwavering from your cock. “But he’s close. I can feel it. He’s about to burst.”

“Let’s fix that,” Wonyoung declares. She glides forward and kneels before you, a queen preparing to receive tribute. The way she settles at your feet, eyes already devouring your erection, doesn't feel like submission; it feels like she’s about to break you open and claim what’s hers.

Then, it truly begins.

Wonyoung’s grip on your shaft is like iron, cool and clinical, yet sending shivers of heat through you. Her other hand instantly dives down, fingers deftly finding and cupping your aching, heavy balls. They feel like overripe fruit, swollen and tender. "Fuck, these are absolutely full," she grunts. She gives them a calculated squeeze, just enough to make you let out a strangled moan, your hips twitching. Meanwhile, Karina, seemingly over her initial trepidation, has crawled forward, her eyes glazed with a new kind of desperate hunger. She takes the very tip of your cock into her warm, wet mouth, her tongue flicking nervously against the sensitive slit. "You've been saving it all up for us, haven't you, my little freak?" Wonyoung continues. "Such a good little cum-toy, filled to the brim, just waiting for your goddesses to drain you."

"He's gonna paint us! He’s going to fucking drench us!" Yuna shrieks with manic delight, her own hand a blur at the base of your cock, stroking furiously. The friction is intense, slick with spit and your own copious pre-cum. Her tongue becomes a relentless tease around the thick crown, darting, licking, swirling. "Give it to me, toy! I want every last drop!"

Sullyoon is pressing kisses up your thigh, her breath hot against your skin, her hands gripping your other leg for balance. Her voice, usually so gentle, is surprisingly demanding, raw with need. "Please... oh god, please just let it go... I need to see it… I need to taste you… Don’t make us wait anymore, you bad boy!"

Karina, trembling visibly, lifts her head, her eyes wide and unfocused, a thick string of saliva connecting her lips to the glistening tip of your cock. Her cheeks are flushed, her breathing ragged. "You can do it... cum for us... please, after everything... just let us have it," she begs. "Fill me up too..."

Wonyoung meets your eyes, that cruel, beautiful smirk is back. "That's right, toy. You heard them. They’re begging for your filth. Sullyoon wants to taste it. Karina wants you to fill her pathetic mouth. Yuna wants you to drown her. They’re all desperate for it. But I demand it." Her voice drops to a menacing growl. "You’re going to fucking erupt. You’re going to cover every last inch of us in that disgusting, potent seed you’ve been brewing inside that freakish cock of yours. Do you understand? This isn't about your pleasure. This is about ours. This is your sole purpose." Her fingers tighten on your balls, her thumb pressing hard and deep into the sensitive perineum, making you cry out. "Now. Explode for your queen, you worthless piece of meat!"

Her hand on your shaft speeds up to match Yuna's frenetic pace. Both of them are now a dizzying blur of motion, tugging, stroking, squeezing, their combined efforts an exquisite torture. Karina latches her mouth onto the entire head of your cock, sucking with a primal, vacuum-like force that steals your breath, her tongue a rough, insistent pressure coiling around the shaft. Yuna’s ecstatic giggles turn into sharp, needy moans as she feels the tell-tale, unstoppable convulsions starting deep within your groin, traveling up the base of your cock. Sullyoon and Karina press closer, a tangle of limbs and desperate hands, their touch now almost frantic, greedy, fingers grabbing at your thighs, your stomach, your hips, anywhere they can make contact, as if trying to absorb your impending orgasm through sheer proximity.

"He's doing it! He's really gonna blow! Oh my god, look at him shake!" Yuna screams.

"Fucking finally!" Wonyoung growls stroking your cock. "Give it to your queen, you pathetic mutt! Give me every last fucking drop!"

And then it happens. Your vision whites out completely. A guttural, inhuman roar tears from your throat, a sound you don’t even recognize as your own, echoing off the walls of the luxurious apartment. Your hips buck uncontrollably, a violent, spastic jerk that nearly throws the girls off you.

The first jet of your cum shoots out with impossible, almost painful force, thick as cream and blindingly white. It splatters directly onto Wonyoung’s perfectly sculpted face. She barely flinches, just lets out a choked gasp, her eyes widening for a split second in surprise at the sheer power before they narrow again in dark triumph. Your hot seed is already dripping from her chin, smeared across her cheek, mixed with her saliva, a victorious smirk plastered on her semen-streaked face. "Yes! That's it, you filthy animal! Fucking drown me!"

Another jet follows, then another, and another, each one seemingly hotter, thicker, more voluminous than the last. You're a fucking firehose, completely and utterly out of control, your body just a vessel for this unstoppable eruption.

"My turn! My turn! Hit me with that fucking load!!" Sullyoon screams, scrambling forward with surprising agility, her usually angelic face now contorted into a mask of fierce, desperate need. She positions herself right in the line of fire, her small hands cupping her equally small breasts, her mouth wide open like a baby bird. A thick rope of your cum arcs through the air and lands squarely on her chest, another jet splattering across her cheek and directly into her parted lips. She gasps, a delighted, messy sound, already licking it up with greedy swipes of her tongue. "Oh my god... it's so much... so warm... and it tastes… amazing!"

"Don't you dare forget me!" Karina cries out. She’s pushing past Sullyoon, her eyes fixed on your still-spewing cock like it’s the only thing in the world. "Please! I need it! I earned this!" A fresh torrent of your seed catches her full in the face, soaking her hair, plastering it to her forehead, coating her eyelashes, and dripping in thick streams into her open, gasping mouth. She moans, a long, shuddering, broken sound, tears welling in her eyes (whether from the impact or sheer overwhelming emotion, you can’t tell) as she swallows convulsively, then licks her lips with a dazed, almost worshipful expression on her cum-painted face.

Yuna is practically vibrating beside you, her hands still gripping your shaft, trying to aim the spray, though it’s bucking too wildly for any real control. "Fuck yes! Me next! Fucking drown me in it, you goddamn animal!" she yells, practically shoving Karina aside to get closer. You oblige without conscious thought, another powerful surge coating her face, her neck, her small, perky tits that are now glistening under a thick layer of your seed. She throws her head back and laughs, a wild, uninhibited, joyous sound, as your cum drips down her body like a perverse baptism. "It’s like a fucking geyser! I've never seen anything like this! He's a cum machine!"

Jet after jet after jet, it just keeps coming, an unending, impossible flood. You’re emptying yourself completely, your balls cinching tight, contracting painfully with each pulse, a hollow, almost unbearable ache spreading through your loins and up into your stomach. The girls are an absolute mess, drenched, glistening, their perfect idol skin smeared and utterly coated with your thick, white seed. They’re not even trying to be neat or dignified anymore; they’re reveling in it, laughing, moaning, smearing it on each other.

"Holy shit," Wonyoung says, breathless for once, a genuine note of awe in it. She looks down at her own cum-splattered chest and hands. "He really was full. Fucking packed to the rafters." A small, almost proud smile touches her lips. "Good boy." She slowly wipes a thick smear of cum from her perfect lips with a thumb and licks it clean with deliberate, sensual slowness.

Finally, with one last, shuddering, weaker pulse, you’re empty. Utterly spent. Your cock twitches pathetically, still painfully hard but no longer gushing, merely slick and dripping with their combined spit and your own rapidly cooling load. You sag forward, gasping for breath, your entire body trembling from the sheer intensity of the release, black spots dancing in front of your eyes. The room slowly comes back into focus, filled with the sounds of their ragged panting, their wet, satisfied laughter, and the overwhelmingly pungent, salty-sweet smell of your spilled seed..

"Fuck," Yuna breathes, looking down at your dick, which is still defiantly, impressively erect despite the massive load you just shot. "Is it... is it still hard? After all that?" She reaches out a tentative, cum-slicked finger and pokes the head. Your cock gives a noticeable throb in response. Yuna’s eyes widen. "Oh my god. It is still hard." She looks up, her eyes meeting Wonyoung’s, then Sullyoon’s, then Karina’s. "Girls... I think our toy isn't done playing yet."

Sullyoon crawls closer. "No way... really? Can he go again?"

Karina, looking utterly debauched and surprisingly radiant under her coating of your cum, nods enthusiastically. "He has to! That was... that was incredible. I want more."

They all start to speak at once, their voices a chorus of greedy demands.

"More, toy!"

"Don't tell me you're finished!"

"You’ve got more in there for us, don't you?"

"Come on, freak, give us another load!"

Wonyoung silences them with a raised hand. She leans close to you again, that imperious glint back in her eyes, her gaze dropping to your still-throbbing erection. Her hand reaches out, fingers wrapping around your slick shaft. "You heard them," she says. "They're not satisfied. And frankly," she gives your cock a slow, deliberate stroke, "neither am I."

Her other hand comes up, and with a speed that surprises you, she delivers a sharp, stinging slap right across the head of your dick. A choked gasp tears from your lips, your hips instinctively jerking. The pain is shocking, but it’s instantly followed by a wave of intense, almost unbearable pleasure. Your cock pulses violently in her grip.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" Wonyoung sneers. "Like being roughed up a little? Like being reminded you’re just our fuck-meat?" Another slap, harder this time, landing on the already hypersensitive tip. You cry out, a raw, helpless sound.

"Answer me, slut!" she barks.

"Y-yes," you gasp out, shame and arousal warring within you. "Yes, I like it..."

"Pathetic," she spits, but her lips are curved into a satisfied smile. She continues to stroke you with one hand, her rhythm firm and steady, while the other delivers a relentless series of slaps. Each impact sends jolts of pure, agonizing pleasure through your system. Your balls are tightening again, an impossible ache building deep inside. The girls are watching, breathless, their faces a mixture of shock and intense arousal. Yuna is openly touching herself, her fingers disappearing between her cum-smeared thighs. Sullyoon is biting her lip so hard it’s a wonder it’s not bleeding. Karina is just staring, her mouth slightly agape.

"Beg for it," Wonyoung commands, her strokes becoming faster, her slaps more precise, each one aimed at the most sensitive parts of your cock. "Beg me to let you cum again, you disgusting freak."

"Please," you groan, "Please, Wonyoung... let me cum... I need to..."

SMACK! This one is directly on the slit, a brutal, stinging impact.

Your vision explodes in white light. You can’t hold it back any longer.

With a strangled scream, you erupt again. It’s not the voluminous flood from before, but it’s thick, ropy, and impossibly potent, shooting out in desperate, pulsing spurts.

Wonyoung doesn’t flinch, doesn't stop stroking, doesn’t stop slapping. She just watches, a terrifyingly beautiful goddess of pleasure and pain, as your second load sprays across her hand, her arm, adding to the sticky mess already coating her.

The other girls cry out in unison, scrambling closer, mouths open, hands outstretched, desperate to catch any stray drops. Yuna manages to get her mouth under the stream for a moment, swallowing greedily, while Sullyoon and Karina try to catch the ropes of semen on their tongues, their faces eager and flushed.

It goes on and on, your body wracked with spasms, your mind completely gone, lost in a whirlwind of humiliation and ecstasy. More slaps, more strokes, more cum, until you’re utterly, completely drained, gasping for air, your vision blurry.

They’re all around you, closer now, their bodies slick and gleaming, their faces alight with a primal satisfaction. Wonyoung finally lets go of your now semi-flaccid, thoroughly abused cock, a triumphant smirk on her lips.

"Good boy," she purrs, wiping a fresh glob of your cum from her cheek and licking it from her fingers. "You finally learned how to be useful."

Instead of rushing to clean up properly, they start playing. Yuna, giggling like a maniac, licks a thick glob of your cum from Sullyoon’s small, firm breast. "Mmm, salty," she declares, then dives in to suckle the nipple, her tongue swirling. Sullyoon moans, arching into it, her hands coming up to smear more of your sticky seed from her stomach onto Yuna’s cheek.

"You’re such a nasty whore, Yuna." Sullyoon laughs.

Karina, looking dazed but with a soft smile playing on her lips, tentatively licks a streak of cum from her own arm. Wonyoung watches them for a moment, a rare, almost fond smirk on her face, before she grabs Karina’s wrist. "Don't waste it, idiot," she says, then pulls Karina’s hand to her own mouth, licking the cum from Karina's skin with slow, deliberate strokes of her tongue, her eyes daring Karina to react. Karina just shivers, her cheeks flushing a deeper red.

It’s an insane, beautiful, disgusting sight. Four of the most lusted-after women on the planet, acting like depraved sluts, covered head-to-toe in your fucking seed.

Your legs finally give out. You collapse onto the massive bed, your body a dead weight, every muscle screaming in protest. Exhaustion hits hard a deep, boneless fatigue that makes even breathing feel like an effort.

One by one, the girls, still sticky and laughing, crawl onto the bed around you, their combined weight making the mattress sag. They’re not careful, their cum-smeared bodies pressing against you, against the pristine grey duvet, leaving wet, pearly patches everywhere. Yuna flops down beside you, throwing a sticky arm over your chest. Sullyoon curls up on your other side, resting her head on your shoulder, her hair damp with sweat and semen. Karina hesitates, then slowly settles at the foot of the bed, leaning against your legs. Wonyoung, of course, perches at the head, looking down at all of you like a queen surveying her messy, sated kingdom.

"I... I can't believe this actually happened," you manage to croak out.

Karina looks at you, her eyes soft, a genuine concern in them. "Are you... are you good? You look wrecked."

"Yeah," you sigh, your head lolling to the side. "Just... exhausted. Completely fucking drained."

"Aren't we all," Yuna groans, nuzzling her face into your chest. "But holy shit, that was... incredible. Best night of my life, no joke."

Sullyoon nods against your shoulder. "Definitely the most... memorable."

"I think... I think it was worth it after all, having been deceived by Karina just to be used by you, girls," you admit, a tired smile touching your lips as you look at Karina.

Karina’s expression flickers. "You’re... you’re not mad? That I tricked you? Lied to you?"

Before you can answer, Wonyoung cuts in. "Mad? He should be on his fucking knees thanking us. Grateful that he had the privilege of spending a night with us, serving a purpose. Most losers only dream of this, and he got to live it. He got to empty his pathetic balls into K-pop royalty."

Yuna and Sullyoon murmur their agreement. "She's right, you know," Yuna says, patting your cheek with a sticky hand. "You hit the jackpot, toy."

"So, how's that pretty little ass of yours feeling, Jimin?" Wonyoung asks, her gaze shifting to Karina, a cruel amusement dancing in her eyes.

Karina shifts uncomfortably, wincing. "It’s... burning. A lot. Like, really a lot."

"Good," Wonyoung says, utterly unsympathetic. "It'll hurt even more tomorrow. And the day after that. Maybe then you'll learn your lesson about exaggerating dick sizes to me. Or lying in general."

Karina sighs, a weary sound that’s tinged with exasperation. "You’re a fucking maniac, Wonyoung. You know that, right?"

Wonyoung’s smile is pure, unadulterated wickedness. "Yes, I do," she purrs. "A total, unrepentant maniac. But," she spreads her arms, gesturing to the cum-soaked bed, the exhausted bodies, the lingering scent of raw sex, "I also organize the best group sex you’ll ever have. And all you bitches fucking love it."

Yuna pushes herself up on her elbows. "Fuck yes, we do, Queen Wony!" she practically screams. "Holy shit, this was… this was next level. I thought I knew what good dick was, but this," she gestures vaguely towards your groin with a cum-stained hand, "this little freak that Karina brought us? And everything you made us do to him? And what you made him do to us?" She shivers, a full-body tremor. "My cunt is still twitching just thinking about it. My face is a glazed fucking donut of his spunk, and I've never felt hotter. You're a goddamn visionary, Wonyoung. A cruel, twisted, dick-obsessed visionary, and I fucking worship you for it!" She collapses back onto you with a happy sigh, nuzzling her sticky face into your neck.

Sullyoon, curled beside you, nods slowly. "She's right, Wony.” Her fingers, still tracing absentminded patterns on your cum-smeared arm, tighten slightly. "I… I’ve never experienced anything like tonight. Ever." A shy, almost guilty smile touches her lips. "When you… when you made him put his hand on my throat while he was… inside me… and then when Karina was screaming while you plugged her…" She shudders, a different kind of tremor, one of pure, overwhelmed ecstasy. "It was terrifying. And so, so fucking hot. I came so hard I thought I was going to pass out. And watching him… watching him just explode all over us…" Her eyes flick down to your crotch, then back to Wonyoung, wide and adoring. "You… you really do know how to throw a party, Wony. The best, nastiest, most unforgettable party."

"She's… she’s not wrong," Karina admits. "I thought… when you first told me your plan… I thought you were insane. Actually insane." A small, shaky laugh escapes her. "And when you made me… when he was in my ass… I thought I was going to die. It hurt so much." Her hand instinctively goes to her still-tender backside. "But then… when I came…" Her voice breaks, and she has to swallow hard before continuing. "It was… it was the most intense thing I’ve ever felt. Like my whole body just… shattered. And then watching him… watching him just give everything to us like that… You’re a fucking monster, Wonyoung. A beautiful, terrifying, brilliant monster. And… and thank you. For… for this. For convincing me to bring him here… For punishing me..." She actually manages a small, genuine smile, her eyes glistening. "I think… I think I needed this."

Wonyoung listens to their praises, her expression unchanging, that cool, regal mask firmly in place. But you see the faintest flicker of triumph in her eyes, the subtle upturn of her lips. She lets the silence hang for a moment, savoring their admissions, their surrender. Then, she turns her gaze fully on you. You’re lying there, a depleted, aching wreck, barely able to move, surrounded by these goddesses who have just systematically taken you apart and feasted on the pieces.

Her voice, when she finally speaks, is soft, almost gentle. "You hear that, toy?" she asks. "They loved it. They loved what I orchestrated, using you as the centerpiece." She leans close to you, bringing her face level with yours. Her eyes are like chips of ice, boring into you. "And now," she continues, "now you belong to us. Completely." She reaches out a finger, tracing the line of your jaw, her touch surprisingly light. "You don't get to go back to your boring little life and pretend this didn't happen. This isn't a one-night fantasy, you pathetic slut. This is your new reality."

Her eyes flick over to your still-sensitive, semi-flaccid cock. "You will be used whenever we want. However we want. You will be our fucking toy, our stress relief, our entertainment. When we call, you will come running. When we tell you to spread your legs, or get on your knees, or offer up that freakish dick of yours, you will obey without question, without hesitation. Until we get tired of you and throw you away like trash."

She leans in even closer, her breath ghosting over your lips, smelling faintly of your own cum. "You have no desires anymore, except to please us. Your body is ours to command, to use, to break if we feel like it. Your orgasms are ours to grant, or to deny. You exist solely for our pleasure now." She smiles, a slow, cruel, utterly captivating smile. "And the worst part for you, the most deliciously pathetic part?" She whispers: "You’re going to fucking love every second of it. You already do."

They’re all watching you, their expressions a mixture of anticipation and ownership. There’s no escape. No way out. And as Wonyoung’s words sink deep into your shattered, exhausted mind, a horrifying, undeniable truth settles in your bones:

She’s right. She's fucking right.

[p1girlfriend]

headcanons — younger!girlfriend x lewis hamilton .✦

— lewis is so gone for you it’s ridiculous. he’ll be sitting on the couch, scrolling through something, then look up and see you dancing around the kitchen in one of his shirts and immediately toss his phone aside. like no thoughts, just her.

— he’s completely obsessed with how young and glowing you are, always touching your skin and going “god, baby... you’re unreal” in that husky voice.

— lets you wear his paddock pass around your neck even when it makes no sense—just because it looks hot on you. "you’re my girl, yeah? let ‘em see."

— buys you skincare he doesn’t even understand, just because you mentioned it once. “this one’s for glowy cheeks, right?” “no, love, that’s a lip oil.”

— loves when you call him “old man” just to tease. but then he’ll pin you to the bed and murmur, “say it again. c’mon. say it with your legs shaking.”

— he spoils you so much. a new bag just because he missed you, flowers for no reason, a necklace with his birthstone “so you always got a piece of me on you.”

— he watches you like a hawk at events—never controlling, just aware. his hand stays on your back, his eyes flick to you every few minutes, and if someone talks to you for too long, he suddenly appears with a soft “everything alright here?”

— can’t keep his hands off you in the car. one hand on the wheel, the other on your bare thigh, squeezing like it’s instinct. sometimes you push his hand higher and he just smirks like “you sure, mama? traffic’s bad.”

— calls you “sweet thing,” “baby girl,” “my sunshine”—but in bed? it switches. “you like makin’ me feel this way, don’t you, little thing?”

— he adores cuddling after sex. like really clings to you, pressing kisses to your neck, your shoulder, your temple. “was that okay?” as if he didn’t just make you see stars.

— puts your age difference in a cute little box and forgets about it—except when you make him feel so old by not knowing a 90s song. then he’s like “wait, what do you mean you’ve never seen men in black?”

— he’s big on slow, sensual sex. lots of eye contact, lots of talking. “you feel so fuckin’ good, baby. always do.” but if you beg a little? if you say “lewis, please,” in that soft voice? he loses it.

— and in the morning, when he’s still half-asleep and your body’s tangled with his, he kisses your shoulder and whispers, “you’re the best thing I’ve ever done.” and you know he means it.

[reignpage]

Frat Boy!Gojo

Still water: got all I need

Word Count: 7.7k Contents: final part, angsty at multiple parts, cursing, chaos breaks out, happy ending, lots of bickering and arguing, they're really annoying actually, smut, 18+, mdni, barely proofread Find previous parts and a whole college au world here

You sigh. 

You didn’t sleep at all and it’s showing — complaining incessantly, your mother points out everything wrong about the way you look to anyone who’ll listen. What feels like a hundred people pile into your room in the Zenin manor: makeup artists, stylists, assistants, PR managers, and maids. All dedicated to making you the perfect Zenin bride. 

Which apparently means waxing you raw, detangling your hair until you’re sure you’ve got more bald spots than locks, spraying you down with every perfume known to man, creating an ungodly cloud of the most nauseating particles of air that brings tears to your eyes, and critiquing everything about your appearance. 

Wrangled here, pushed and pulled there, ‘look up here’ and ‘don’t look there,’ your head’s on a swivel. You’ve lost all control of your limbs and can only rely on the strings that keep you tethered to a reality you no longer recognise. 

Their clattering is driving you mad, but you bite your tongue. You don’t want to give them a reason to torture you on purpose. 

One minute you’re engaged to someone you thought you’d never be able to tolerate, then he turns out to be…alright, and the next you’re a free woman because he can’t stand you, and now you’re back to where you started. 

The universe must be having a grand old time. 

Good for her. 

Far removed from the planning, you can do nothing but sit back and watch everything construct itself before your eyes. The flowers they’ve chosen are the purest white lilies; they better resemble funerial flowers than marital. You don’t say a thing. On a rack, your dress hangs — it’s simple, quite pretty, actually. It’s somewhat eggshell white, long satin, not form fitting. Classic, elegant and chic. Totally not your style.

You know, without needing to ask, that he chose it. Yet another thing to mock and taunt you with. 

Father nowhere in sight, as usual, you’re stuck with your mother. She hasn’t spoken to you since yesterday, her drunken stupor gone, likely to make herself look presentable to the Zenins. 

The first couple hours in the morning had been spent trying to catch her eye all while you’re being groomed, hoping she’ll see the absurdity of this farce, that some kind of maternal instinct will click and she’ll whisk you away. Of course, none of that happens but one can daydream. Not like you have a prince charming on a white horse waiting to strike. 

She wasn’t always like this. You recall some time, long ago, deep in your childhood, when she’d sing lullabies and rock you to sleep, hiding you behind her legs when scary men would stare too long at parties, and sneaking you candy. Somewhere amidst the pressure to run the family business and estate while her husband did as he pleased must have erased it all. Perhaps, when you’re older and you have your own children too, you’ll resent them for the sins of their father too. 

No. 

Never.

“What should we do with her makeup?” A flamboyant man in purple pantsuits asks.

Manicures being carefully done, your mother looks up, red lips curling up into sharp points, and eyes staring straight through you. “Get rid of it. All of it. Make her look like someone worth marrying.”

Great. 

——————

“Are you sure about this?” She asks. 

Gojo shrugs. “No, but it’s the only idea we’ve got so, let’s just go for it.”

His friends share a look, unsure and slightly concerned. When he gets into these moods, where he’s hyper-focused, undeterred, and determined, they know better than to try and talk sense to him. It’s proven impossible before. Still, they’ve never seen him look quite so…terrifying.

Sporting a sharp glint in his eyes, he eyes the door, locked from inside. Barely restrained tension runs through his body, keeping him ready to pounce at any moment, fists clenching and unclenching. He’s not even wearing his sunglasses. At the present moment, they’re hiding behind a bush, looking out for security guards which patrol the surrounding area. The cathedral stands silent, deceptively so — inside, they know, are a whole congregation of Eden’s elites. The Gojo clan have not been extended an invitation. In fact, apart from those directly invited by the Zenins, no one even knows what abomination is happening inside. 

“Where did you even get these things?” Suguru lifts the lapel of his suit with mild disgust, finding the polyester itchy on his precious skin, no doubt. 

“Fushiguro.”

The girl makes some undignified noise. “Fushiguro? The guy who has a vendetta against you for no reason?”

Ducking with experienced speed, they all hide in the shrubbery as a guard makes his rounds. A second passes. And another. Then three heads peek back up again, all staring at the door at the back of the cathedral, where the vines grow thicker, zigzagging wildly. 

Gojo argues, “He doesn’t have a vendetta against me. He’s helping me actually. I kinda know a secret of his — occupational hazard as the Gojo heir or whatever — and I was gonna blackmail him into helping but weirdly, he was totally on board. Said something about ‘payback’ and ‘anything to fuck some bitches up’ — not that I use such a derogatory term, by the way, I am an ally for wome—“

He earns a smack on the head. 

“Ouch! Okay, yeah, as I was saying, he said he has connections inside and to wait here.”

They share a glance again. Hesitantly, the more nervous of the three asks, “And you’re sure you can trust him? That he’s not gonna fuck you over?”

“No,” he answers truthfully, “but I have no choice. This has to work. It just has to.”

When a couple more minutes passes and time starts ticking closer and closer to the edge of no going back, both friends’ doubts double. Early in the day, when the white-haired man sent the group chat a message saying, EMERGENCY EMERGENCY CODE RED BUT NOT FOR SHARK WEEK, they both thought, ‘what now?’

Maybe he wanted to dye the school fountain red again or steal another university’s mascot. They’d have preferred that actually, instead of pissing off one of the most powerful families in the country. Usually, their crimes involved being in the dead of the night, fuelled by burning alcohol and a youthful lack of shame, but right now, as the sun has only begun to set and there’s hundreds of people inside the place they’re looking to break into, they think they might have finally bitten off more than they can chew. 

“Satoru, maybe we sho—“

“Look!”

The door creaks open. A little boy in a sharp suit steps out, looking left and then right before waving straight at them. A second passes and yet another. They’re stuck, frozen, in their spot, unsure of what to make of the scene. 

Suguru whispers, “Is that…Fushiguro’s son?”

Beckoning them over, the boy makes a frustrated noise; they’re taking too long. A guard is about to round the corner. They need to make it inside and they need to do it now. Gojo surges forward. They follow. 

The door clicks. 

“Oh, fuck.” The girl pants. “I’m too sober for this.”

“Agreed,” the long-haired man says. 

Deaf to their expressions of concern, Gojo surveys the area: it’s a tight space at the foot of a winding staircase made of stone with cobwebs in the corners and dust settling on all surfaces. It’s dark, lit up only by the sunlight peering through the slits on the wall. If he was to hazard a guess, and he must insist it really is just a guess since he knows nothing about architecture and history, it could be a super-secret passageway for like monks and stuff.

“You guys should go.” All eyes fall down to the little boy with a flat expression. He doesn’t look perturbed at all at the prospect and reality of having just helped some college kids crash a wedding. “They’ve already started.”

Suguru nods. “Alright. I’ll go left, you go right and Satoru...tone down the theatrics as much as you can, will you?”

His friend waves him off and he sighs. 

“I’ll text everyone to stand by and on your count, we’ll attack,” the girl says. “I can’t wait to tell my boyfriend all about this. He’s gonna have a heart attack.”

Filing out, sucking in their stomachs and stretching as thin as they can to make it through the rickety wooden door and properly inside the cathedral, they anxiously go through the plan in their heads, but not before Gojo can the last word in. “What’s your name, little dude?”

“Megumi.”

He smiles. “Thanks, Megumi. Tell your brother thanks too. Coolest siblings I know for sure.”

A little shy suddenly, the boy huffs his chest out, attempting to stand taller in his perfectly fitted suit, shiny shoes, and untamed hair. “Yeah, we are.”

And off Gojo went, dressed similarly and with a plan he’ll kill to see through.

——————

There are so many eyes on you. On any other day, you’d shake it off; you’re used to it after all. But, today’s not like any other day, and you can’t hide behind your expressive fashion. Now, you’ve been stripped bare and polished all pretty and palatable for a man who stands beside you, cold as ice but carrying a hellish heat that’s threatening to send shivers up your spine.

None of the guests here are friendly faces. Most are familiar, having met them through those stupid galas and balls, but they don’t know you. Probably couldn’t even say your name. No, of course not, because they’re not here for you, they’re here for him. For his family and the name he bears. The name you will soon carry on you like a festering brand. 

And as the priest rattles on through centuries of tradition and your dark future awaits you, all you can think about is, would it have been better or worse to have seen Gojo sitting amongst the crowd?

It doesn’t matter, really. You barely knew the guy. He was just that person you had to learn to tolerate to maintain your sanity and soon, he’ll be the guy you once knew, the guy you think about here and there as you send your children off to school and kiss your husband goodbye.

“Smile,” Naoya commands through gritted teeth. “You look like you’ve been kidnapped.”

You fire back, “I was.”

If the priest heard that, he gives no indication. Instead, he continues his spiel and avoids your eye. So, seeking sanctuary is a no go. 

“And should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Eyes rolling before you can help yourself, you remark how stupid the tradition is. What even is the point? Does anyone ever actually object to—

“I object!”

Your head spins back so fast you almost give yourself whiplash. You know that voice. There’s no one else in the world with such a grating, fiendishly arrogant timbre. He’s there, at the very back of the cathedral, standing by the massive double doors, and dressed in a waiter’s uniform?

A round of gasps make waves around the great hall, shocked and horrified. If anyone had been dozing off, they’re surely awake now. Hell so are you. 

Heart beating fast, you can’t grasp that he’s really here. He came. For you. But he didn’t want anything to do with you. He made that abundantly clear. Still, he’s grinning right at you, looking at no one else, not even when they whisper his name like some kind of curse.

“A holy matrimony’s the last thing my girl wants; she’s a devil worshipper, your honour. So, unless there’s a goat sacrifice, she won’t be very happy.”

Naoya hisses. “How did that filthy Gojo get here? Security!”

Tall, muscular men who had been hiding in the shadows come out into the light, all eyes on the interloper. They’re going to kill him. They’ll actually kill him. 

“Aw, Nao Nao, you think you’re the only one with an army of men? Dude, I’m a frat president. The overwhelming stench of testosterone is all I know.”

And at his cue, doors to the side, and the doors behind him, open. 

Flashes of skin, roars of excitement, whooshing blow of air brushing past you. A huge crowd of men and women rush in. They hoot. They cheer. Whoop and shout and yell. They run through the aisle, in just their underwear, carrying buckets of water and sponges. No one expects their designer, bespoke clothes to be drenched in soapy water. Just as no one expects college kids to give them lap dances, covering them in confetti and boa scarves.

Chaos breaks out faster than you can process. 

Screams resound. Everyone’s shouting and clambering in all directions. A flurry of panic fills the holy grounds. They reach you, bumping and grinding and laughing. You’re lost. You can’t see past shiny chests. 

Deafening music plays on rogue speakers, blasting from all angles. It dulls your senses – you can barely tell who’s who, but it feels like the entire Eden Uni student population has crashed in like a tsunami. Frats and sororities merge indiscriminately, throwing each other around, ripping the flowers decorating the aisle up and tossing them in the air. The school mascot, a chicken is on the altar, pecking at the priest. 

The guests have been blocked in. Women are being twirled by younger, muscular boys. The men are being touched up by much younger girls and don’t seem to be complaining. Everyone’s dancing and singing, carried by the high of doing something they know is wrong in the worst place to be doing it in. 

It’s the kind of euphoria you’ve missed.

Water is splashing all over your white gown, soaking you through. The cathedral has turned into a waterpark and a nightclub at all once. Arms are reaching, touching, pushing and pulling. You’re being swept along with no destination in sight. Breathless, reeling and lightheaded, you let the crowd swallow you.

Laughing. 

You see Naoya through slivers between bodies. He’s outraged. You laugh harder. There are soap suds in his hair and suit. Attempts to stomp over to you are curbed by hormonal frat guys grinding on his body and pulling at his clothes. From personal experience, you know they can be real annoying to deal with. They’re persistent and they use their charms to get their way. It’s how they always fill their charity quota so easily.

Goodbye asshole.

Solid arms tug you back. You fall onto a firm chest. A dizzying scent fills your nostrils.

“Hey, baby.” An annoying voice whispers in your ear. “Wanna be the Wednesday to my Pugsley?”

You’re speechless, veering off course and truly discombobulated. He’s here. He’s actually here. Staggering back with him, you let him lead you through the crowd. Naoya gets further and further away. He’ll never get to you. “They’re siblings, you idiot.”

Gojo laughs, loud and intoxicating. “Yeah, I know. Was just testing you. Passed with flying colours, by the way. Missed me?”

“No, I barely even remember who you are.”

“Oh, now you’re just trying to get me hard.”

And then you’re out, feeling the warm embrace of the sun. 

The churchyard is just as busy and bustling too. There are tons of people in beachwear dancing on tables and throwing your gifts into the air as they dance to music booming out of huge speakers on backs of cars and pickup trucks. Somehow, whilst you were in there, accepting your fate, a party had been building. 

Your wedding had gone from a metaphorical funeral to a quad party you won’t be stopping any time soon. And you finally understand why Gojo’s parties are treated like a national holiday on campus; you really wouldn’t want to miss it at all.

He spins you around. In his heavy hands, your face is held, gently. Thumbs brushing your cheeks, bright blue eyes search yours. There’s a softness to his gaze when he scans your entire body. “Aw, baby, look what they did to you.”

“Don’t I look better now?”

It’s unbelievable how easily you find it in yourself to speak so clearly, to tease and prod even when you feel like you had just faced death and had barely escaped its clutch. 

Leaning in close, his nose skims yours. Eyes flutter shut and he takes a deep breath, hold on you tightening with a concerning quiver. “No. I like my girl terrifying and looking like she just put a curse on me.”

“I’m surprised you even recognised me.” Truly, you’re unrecognisable. Even your mother had paused when she took her first look at you with all your makeup, lace, and piercings gone. It was as if she was looking at her little girl again and it didn’t matter at all.

Gojo’s lips touch yours. He’s not kissing you. He’s just touching, feeling, absorbing the moment. “‘course I recognised you. Are you crazy? How could I ever forget those eyes? They’ve traumatised me so much I get nightmares.”

You stand on your tiptoes, chasing his lips. “Asshole.”

His hand travels to the back of your head, holding you still.

“Witch.” So close...just one tiny push and you’ll kiss him. He knows it too. Knows how easy it’d be to taste you on his lips, and he hopes you don’t hear the pounding of his chest. “You want this too, right? It’s not just me?”

“Hmm, I do.”

“Y/n!” 

Through the thunderous music, you hear your mother’s voice call out. She’s standing at the threshold, over the crowd, glaring right at you. She’s drenched from head to toe. There’s a look of complete and utter devastation on her face, marred with an anger you’ve become so familiar with you hardly notice it over the desperate pleading in her eyes. She’s aged a lot. 

Walking forward, she’s weaving straight for you, manicured hands reaching and reaching. “Don’t do this. Don’t be so selfish! Y-you can still marry the Zenin boy. Think of our family! We’ll be broken without his money.”

Pressing close, you feel his presence, supportive and resolute. It’s what gives you the power to finally meet her stare after years of looking away, of cowering, running. 

“Our family was broken a long time ago, Mother. And it’s never been my fault.”

Then you turn and never look back.

——————

“Okay, wait, wait. You actually snuck in dressed as servers?”

You’re both sat on the swing set, just rocking back and forth, watching the night sky. The cold breeze is refreshing, and you can’t get enough of it. Fairy lights on and warm, it’s just you two, hidden away deep in the woods behind the cathedral. In fact, you’re so far away, you can’t even hear the distant thrum of music. Whether the party is still going on or if the police had been called, you don’t know and you don’t really care to ask. 

“Yeah,” Gojo admits with a proud laugh. “I was by the cloak room waiting for my cue and pretending that I was keeping guard.”

He’s wearing a white shirt under a black vest, tailored trousers and loafers. Truly looking the part of ‘help’ and somehow making it look good, he’s rolled up the sleeves, revealing toned arms and pristine skin. 

Laughing, you ask, “How long have you been wanting to do the whole ‘I object’ thing? Be honest.”

“Oh, like since forever. I wanted to so bad I’ve been contemplating crashing a random wedding just to do it.”

Knowing him, he’s not lying or exaggerating at all. In fact, it’s so him you can’t help but throw your head back and laugh even more. “Okay, so you’re totally welcome then.”

“Yeah, thanks, but don’t do that again. I don’t think I have it in me to pull something like that off again.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

Abruptly standing up, he comes to you and extends his hand. Smiling down at you with no hint of mischief whatsoever and with the tips of his ears ever so slightly pink, you note how young he suddenly looks. He just looks like a boy staring at a girl hoping she won’t slap his hand away. You take it without thinking and you’re whisked up and away. Swaying you to an inaudible music, he grips you close. Even though the night’s a little chilly, you don’t really feel the cold, not when he’s shielding you from it like he can’t stand the thought of anyone but him touching you. 

Things had changed so fast in the last day and a half, turning your life into a rollercoaster you thought you’d never be able to get off. Still, you persevered, a true fighter. You allow yourself that one moment of pride. 

Basking in his warmth and his scent washes away the remaining fears of your past catching up to you. On your way here, he had conspiratorially whispered that his family will take care of the Zenins, that their clan head owes them a favour and Naoya can’t do a single thing about it. 

And though you’re no longer tied to that Zenin and you’re with Gojo again, you know things have been done that could never be undone. You’ve lost your family. Both literally and metaphorically.

Tenderly, he asks, “Did he...did he touch you?”

“No. But he killed my friend,” you confess. 

Gojo stills for a second before he continues swaying you, head resting on yours so he can lay a gentle kiss. Muttering against your hair, he says, “I’m sorry. Really...I-I’m sorry...Tell me more about him.”

“I don’t want to ruin the moment.”

Chuckling, he whispers, “I got my girl back and she’s dancing with me under the stars. Nothing could ever ruin this.”

You hold him tight, cheek resting on his chest like as if it’s the most natural fit in the world. With just one second to gather yourself, you tell him a story. “He was the son of the groundskeeper in our home, back before our family went bankrupt because of my dad. We became friends. Best friends. Stayed that way until we were like eighteen. It was weird to meet someone so understanding, so similar, so you, but I knew I’d do anything for him from the very first moment I met him.”

“If he’s anything like you, he must have been very special.”

“The most special,” you admit. Then, you look up. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

He gives you a sheepish smile. “Would you think less of me if I say yes?”

Unable to help yourself, you graze your teeth against his chin, finding the urge to just rip him apart overwhelming. “There’s no way I could think less of you. You’re pretty far down already.”

“Hopefully far enough to see up your dress.”

You laugh. “Let me finish my story and I’ll think about it.”

And he zips his mouth shut. 

“There was something different about him. Something that made him stand out, never fitting in, just like me. Maybe that’s why we gravitated towards each other, why we were inseparable.” Bittersweet memories flash before you, drowning you in a time long past and you’ll never get back. “He was gay, and his parents hated it. They didn’t understand. They thought they could beat it out of him. And he’d always meet me at my window, climbing up the tree, with different bruises every week. It was hard to see someone you love try and smile through their pain.”

Gojo’s hum tell his own story.

“And when we couldn’t take it anymore, when I knew that soon, there’d come a day when he just would stop turning up, I begged him to run away with me. I just wouldn’t stop pestering him. He didn’t want to; he thought it was unfair to drag me down with him or something. And though I hated my parents too, I did have it better than him, I know that. But I would have given it all away for him. And I was going to. But then…”

No longer swaying, he just keeps you tucked in his chest, waiting patiently for you to catch your breath. He doesn’t say a thing, doesn’t offer condolences, or all false promises. 

“We were driving away. We were making it out, but I got a notification on my phone. My mum was trying to reach me. And I don’t know, I felt guilty, and he must have seen it because he tried to do a U-turn and...and…I made it out alive and he was just barely there.”

For the longest time, this story, his story hadn’t been uttered to anyone. And though you did once think it’d be nice if they could meet, you wish it wasn’t under these circumstances. You wish they’d both be breathing and not severed between life and death. 

“My family was paying for his hospital fees for as long as they could, before all the money dried up and we were running on fumes trying to keep up the facade. Maybe that’s why I put up with them for so long, why I never tried to run away. That gratitude I had kept me stuck there for so long, even once a charity picked up his case and took over.”

“That sneaky old man.” He mutters under his breath but then notices your confused look and shakes his head. “Ah, I’ll tell you another day…I’m sorry about your friend. I’m sorry for what Naoya did. If I could make him pay, I would. I will.”

You chuckle. He sounds so sure you can’t help but find him absolutely adorable.

“No, he does deserve to pay but honestly, I’m relieved.” A huge part of you had always carried tremendous guilt of having put him in that position to begin with. He was destined for more and you had kept him confined to that hospital bed for your own needs, unable to let him go, to accept the truth. “His heart may have been beating but he had been gone a long time ago. Now, he’s truly at peace, I think. He’ll be happy to finally go.”

Gojo kisses your forehead. “If he’s any bit as loving as you, then I think he’d be happy you’d be able to move on. Y’know, start living your life for yourself.”

You laugh again. Loud and obnoxious, you’re sure. It startles him. 

“God, you’re so annoyingly sweet when you want to be. You’re supposed to hate me. To be disgusted that I’d been so selfish, so cowardly for so long. But instead, you’re looking at me like I hung the moon and stars.”

He tilts his head, a playful smile on those soft lips of his. “You didn’t?”

“Just kiss me, you idiot.”

And so, he does. 

He quite literally sweeps you off your feet, lifting you up so he can smother your lips with his. He tastes of sugar, of a long fight for freedom, and of youth you’ve never had. And when you’re in his arms, tongue twisting together and savouring this moment that feels like a long time coming, you can’t think about anything else other than how this is right where you belong. Your hands get buried in each other’s hair, bridging the gap until not a single atom keeps you apart. Despite how tight his clutch is, you find comfort in the reminder that he’s with you now and he’s not going to let you go. 

When you part, your lips tingle and his teeth pull your bottom lip, tugging it just to watch it bounce back into place. His hair is a mess, his lips swollen and cheeks flushed. He’s never looked more beautiful.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he admits.

You peck him. “Did it leave up to your wet dreams?”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

You two fall onto the grass, kissing and touching and gasping. He doesn’t let your body touch the ground, taking the brunt of your weight as if you’re as light as a feather. A hand slides to the back of your dress, pulling down a zipper. 

“I hate this dress…” He breathes out. “I’d never let you wear something so plain at our wedding.”

Giggling, you indulge in the ticklish touches. “Aren’t you getting a little too ahead of yourself there, Gojo?”

He smashes your face back to his, swallowing your words like he doesn’t think it belongs on the lips he could spend eternity worshiping. “Satoru, baby. Call me Satoru.”

And now you’re both back where you left off, sending déjà vu coursing through your veins. Sitting up, away from his lips which attempt to chase you, you slide off his body, crawling back on to the grass. Gazing at you with wide eyes, he doesn’t miss a thing when you spread your legs slowly. “Promise not to cum in your pants if I do?”

“No.” He scrambles towards you. “Can’t.”

Smiling, you say, “Oh, but you must, otherwise you’ll cut this night short.”

The white-haired man grabs your ankles, rubbing warmth on your skin. Eyes never leaving yours, he removes your heels, one by one, lifting each to lay a kiss on your sole. Then, as you’re lying back, looking up at him, he asks, “You wouldn’t happen to be wearing a garter, would you? Because if you are, then I might actually cum in my pants.”

“Come and find out…Satoru.”

He dives forward, pushing through the thick heap of fabric, warm skin leaving a trail on your inner thighs and finding, hopefully, a black lace garter you had snuck on as a quiet act of rebellion. Naoya would have flipped out if he saw it, you’re sure, but it would have been worth it. No matter the price, you would have kept finding ways to keep your identity try as he might to erase it. 

“Ah, baby, you must have known I’d end up here, right? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have left a present with my name on it.”

Warm breath brushing your panties, you fight the urge to shiver. “You like my garter?”

Just as you had bitten his chin, he bites your thigh and licks up the mark quickly, soothing the skin. Your body is aching, and he isn’t even touching you where you wish he would. 

“It’s pretty and I’m keeping it for my spank bank for sure,” he promises. “But I’m talking about this.”

You gasp.

Satoru licked a stripe up your clothed slit, tongue poking at your clit. He pauses. Oh no, he must have found your real gift. So many nights spent dreaming about how it’ll shut him up to finally know where your final piercing is and the feeling of his body surging heat throughs yours doesn’t live up your imagination. 

Swimming out of the dress, his eyes, unobscured by those dark sunglasses of his, widen comically. You’re watching a blush blossom on his cheeks in real time. “You have a clit piercing!”

“I do.”

‘Oh fuck,’ is all he says before he climbs back in and pulls your panties to the side. You squeal at the sudden sensation of his long tongue exploring your pussy in a rush. Again and again, he licks and licks until he can’t get enough and begins sucking at your already twitching clit, playing with the metal bar. “Wow, I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me...That’s the real tragedy...”

It’s been so long and he’s so good at that, you’re nearing your climax much sooner than you’d like; his head is already massive, if he makes you cum from a couple licks you’ll never hear the end of it. 

“Did it -mhm- hurt?”

Back arching, you grip blades of grass for tether. “Y-yeah. The recovery was rough but totally worth it. I’m even more sensitive down there now.”

Two fingers worm their way inside your pussy, feeling the pleats and enjoying the gumminess of your walls. “Yeah, I can -hah- tell. You’re gushing on my fingers. I can’t get enough of you. You taste so incredible, how is that even possible? You must really be a witch...no, a fallen angel sent to damn me.”

“You’re so melodramatic,” you breathe out, hips jolting.

His arms are wrapped around your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide for him. You’re sure he can’t breathe under your dress and with the sloppy noises he’s making, you’re not convinced he’s already decided this is how he’d like to die. “Can’t help it...pussy’s so -ha- good I want to recite p-poetry...to be or not to be and whatever.”

A hand falls onto his head over the fabric, keeping him between your legs and pressed up against your pussy. He’s playing with your piercing with his tongue, rolling it around like a fidget toy. There’s no technique to whatever he’s doing but goddamn it, it sure does feel fucking good. 

“I could spend all -hah- day eating you out.”

He’s given you an opening to tease him more. You sure as hell take it. “If you hadn’t fucked shit up by telling on our parents to the press, then you would have been well acquainted with my pussy by now.”

An embarrassed sound escapes him. “I’m sorry…I thought I ate that up. Whoops. I’ll make it up to you four though.”

“Four?”

“Yeah, you, your tits and this kitty.”

Wow, that almost dried you up. “Shut up, Satoru. Like actually. Please.”

“Okay, but can I actually spend all day eating you out? I’ll work for it.”

“You just want an -ngh! don’t suck so hard, fuck!- e-excuse not to go to classes.” You smile when he huffs against your pussy, curling those fingers against your g-spot. He’s lying flat on his stomach and without needing to look to be sure, you know he’s rutting his hips against the grass. 

He sucks hard at your clit despite your command. You cry out. “Hmm, you already -hah that’s it, ride my face- already know me so well, baby. You obsessed with me or something?”

“So obsessed I o-orchestrated a -hngh- wedding just for you to crash it.”

Obscene noises are emanating from under your skirt. He’s making out with your pussy, slurping and lapping up your juices like a man starved. “You’re so sweet to me. So so sweet. Are you gonna cum soon? You’re tightening up like you are. Come on, show me how you sound when you cum. Let me know if my imagination lives up to reality.”

Just as he says, you cum all over his face and his fingers, writhing on the grass and dirtying the wedding dress with reckless abandon. It’s possibly the best orgasm you’ve had in years or ever and you almost admit that to him but the fact that he had been able to make you cum at all is embarrassing enough that you keep all praises to yourself. 

Instead, when he comes out, a shit-eating grin on his face, and his shirt unbuttoned at the top, you tell him, “T-take your pants off and fuck me already.”

“Woah! Buy me dinner first.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m serious. Hurry up and get inside me.”

He smiles and leans down to press a kiss on the tip of your nose, smearing your wetness on your skin accidentally. Muttering an ‘oops,’ he quickly licks up the sheen before he wipes it with his hand altogether. “And I’m being serious. As much as I would love to — trust me, I’m actually kicking myself right now and this will haunt me — we can’t. I don’t have a condom on me.”

“Oh, god, I hate you.”

Slumping on top of you just to hear your sudden groan, he mumbles between the valleys of your breast, pulling your dress down to bare them to him, “Yeah, my bad, baby. I hate Satoru too.”

Just as fascinated with the piercings on your nipples, he fiddles with them like a stress toy, pulling and watching for your reaction. You bite your lip. You won’t moan for the bastard. 

Pussy still tingling, you just lie there carrying his heavy ass as he fondles your tits and introduces himself to them. You really want to get laid. You’re practically desperate for it. These past couple months have been so stressful, so disastrous, you want compensation in the form of orgasms. Damn it, he will give it to you since he caused all of this to begin with. 

“Take me back to your frat house. You must have condoms there.”

Mouth full of your breast, he says, voice muffled, “You are totally obsessed with me. Like, you’re so bossy when you’re horny.”

You smack the back of his head. “Don’t even pretend you’re not grinding your dick onto me, asshole. Take me to your frat house now before I go back to Naoya.”

His hips still. He gets up and pulls you with him. Pouty, he grouches. “Okay, so now you’ve ruined the moment.”

“I ruined the moment? Are you kidding me? You’re the one who didn’t bring a condom!”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I didn’t know there’d be sex involved in my rescue mission.”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Satoru. You knew there would be. Why else would I keep you around?”

He gasps. “Excuse me? You’re objectifying people in this day and age? Wow! Wow wow wow. Am I just a piece of meat to you?”

“Shut. Up.” As you stomp around, stabbing his chest with your finger, he just hums and slides your dress off, lifting you up and out of the ugly thing. Now in just a thin slip, he wraps his arms around you and carries you out of your hideaway like you weigh absolutely nothing. “Admit it. Admit you forgot the condom.”

“No, I didn’t bring any because I respect you for your mind and personality. I’m not some kind of animal who’s led by her clit.”

Clutching him for warmth, you let him expertly navigate his way out of the labyrinth and into the car park. In his car, you argue the whole way. The fucker won’t admit what you both know to be the truth, settling for singing along to the pop songs on the radio. Whilst you rant about his stupidity and recklessness, finally scolding him for even getting you into this position, he just smiles and takes it all in, keeping a hand on your bare thigh and daring to rise higher. You let him finger you into another orgasm. 

Still complaining even when you two finally arrive at the frat, wolf whistled at by his exhausted brothers before you arrive at his room, you glare at him. 

It’s spacious and pretty empty, devoid of much personality unlike his childhood room. When he lays you down on the bed, pulling sticks and leaves out of your hair, he gets right back in between your legs and keeps eye contact the whole time. Though it isn’t a whole day like he wants, he does give you a couple more orgasms in two hours. 

He may be neglectful of his education, but he does not mess around with your cunt. In fact, he treats it like it’s life and death, muttering praises about how expressive she is, how tight and well-behaved. So fucking cheesy. 

“Ugh, leave her alone now. Come up here and show me what I’m working with.”

Eyes hazy and looking like he’s not all there right now, he emerges and fumbles with his pants, kicking them off to reveal his cock. Your jaw drops. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Satoru shrugs and leans down to kiss you, shoving his tongue inside so you can taste yourself. “You’re so mad, aren’t you? Gojo Satoru really does have it all, doesn’t he? Don’t be upset, babe, you’re pretty hot yourself.”

Of course! Of course, his dick would be big. Long and thick, he keeps it clean down there, baring the long veins that wrap around his impressive length and reaching his pretty pink tip which aggressively leaks precum. Firmly, you say, “That’s not gonna fit inside me at all.”

He hums, sucking marks on your neck, collarbone and on your breasts. “You can take it. My girl can do anything.”

“Ah, fuck it.”

To be with him like this, all warm and safe from everyone that’s tried to control you two, feels like heaven in the most sinful way. You’re being engulfed by his scent and his body, stronger and more muscular than you ever thought it could be. The way he touches you, greedy but careful, as if he’s just been presented with the most tempting feast he could dream of is driving you wild. 

Pulling him up for a kiss, you give yourself up to the overwhelming urge to consume him. He’s yours. He always has been and always will be. You don’t know how the future will go but that’s how it feels in the moment and it’s more than you could ever ask for. 

“How do you want me?” You ask, leaning up on your elbows, ready to get into any position he wants. 

Satoru’s smile is so sheepish and simultaneously shameless, it makes you sigh – it’s the kind of smile that tells you he knows what he’s about to say is incredibly idiotic, but he means every word of it. And you’re just as idiotic, you think, because you actually want to hear him out. “Just as you are.” 

“Ugh, I hate you.” You slump back down on the bed, staring up at ceiling and wondering how you’re going to put up with him for the foreseeable future.

Swallowing your complaints with his lips, he and quips, “If this is how good you taste when you hate me, I can’t wait for you to sit on my face when you’re in love with me.”

“Never gonna happen.”

“Hmm, never say never, baby. I think you’ll find I can be quite persuasive.”

Honestly, you should be scared; he really is persuasive. You’ve learnt in the past few months that when Satoru wants something, he gets it. And right now, he looks so hell bent on winning this bet you’ve raised he looks like he’s casting a spell on your pussy with his dick as he rubs the length along your slit, getting it wet before he grabs a condom from his bedside drawer. In true frat guy fashion, he’s putting on the ultra-thin ones and you’re also not surprised to see that they’re strawberry flavoured. 

Sensing the judgement in your eyes, he chuckles, forehead meeting yours. Held up by his forearms, you notice the quiver in them. “Pinch me. Please. I have to know this is real, that you’re mine.”

You whisper, running your hands through his hair and listening to him purr, “I’m yours, Satoru. I’m not going anywhere. So...hurry up and fuck me before I dry up.”

His laugh is so unbridled, so obnoxious and loud it brings you to laughter too. 

“Hey...y’know, you’ve bewitched me, body and soul...I’ll follow you the depths of hell.” He confesses, angling his hips so his cock head is right at your entrance, teasing and prodding. “Remember that because you’re gonna be so mad when I tell you I did forget. Whoopsy.”

“I fucking knew it—AH! FUCK!”

In one smooth thrust, he’s forced himself inside you. Your walls squeeze, pulsing, desperate to acclimatise to his cock. He’s hitting all your sensitive spots, filling you up so good it’s like he’s shoved all the air out of you, occupying your lungs. Eyes roll back, jaw hanging low. 

“Yeah, my b-bad, baby. Just let me -oh, you feel so good- a-apologise, yeah? I’ll make you forget all the things I did wrong.” Pace steady, he works his cock in and out, swivelling his pelvis against yours every time he bottoms out, enjoying the feel of your cold clit piercing on his skin. 

You moan. “I highly fucking doubt that. You’ll probably just keep fucking up again and again anyways.”

He smiles. 

“Probably, but I’ll never s-stop trying to apologise. Now, quit being so -hah- tight; I’m gonna cum early.”

The headboard is rattling against the wall with his increasing speed. Uncaring about how noisy you two are — with the slapping of skin, the dirty squelches, the long moans and grunts – he continues fucking you like there’s no one else in the house than you two. His face is tucked in your neck, swallowing your sweet smell; he can’t get enough of it. Of you. Back muscles shifting and hard under your touch, you run your nails through his pale skin, desperate to leave your mark on him, to make him yours in all the ways you can. 

“Don’t -ah! right there, S’toru- act like that’s not normal for you.”

He flicks your nipple piercing, huffing in tense amusement when you gasp, before engulfing the bouncing thing with his large hands, fingers digging into the fat. “We’ll see -ngh- who cums before who, M-morticia.”

“Yeah, Gomez?”

You swear he throbs inside you. 

“C-can I walk you to class, baby? Maybe I s-should change courses. I -oh, fuck, you’re incredible- I want to be with you all the time. I think I’m going absolutely, totally crazy.”

Legs locking behind his hips, ankles digging into his ass to keep him deep inside you, you mouth kisses into every inch of skin you can reach, inhaling his scent too. It’s so clean, so light and heavenly, you feel it go straight to your clit. “S-sure, follow me -ah!-wherever. I’ll keep you around, let you -ngh! I’m close, keep going, just like that—I’ll let you sit on my lap and do -hah shit- tricks for me. Don’t that sound fun, Toru?”

Yeah, he definitely just grew bigger inside of you. 

“Ruff! Ruff!”

Your laugh comes out broken, punctuated by dizzying moans. “God, you’re so stupid.”

He laughs too. “No, you.”

Even as he fills you up with his searing cum and you both lose yourself in the pleasure of finally being together in a way you worried you’d never get to be, you argue back and forth, pushing each other’s buttons, mocking and taunting. And it doesn’t ever really stop. 

Not then, not the next day, or the next week, month, or years after. 

And neither you nor Satoru’s ever look back.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Never Been Kissed

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Summary: You've never been one to kiss and tell.

A.N. - This one is for all my The Prophecy Girlies... also known as the most self indulgent thing I've ever written.

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

"Come on," Sam coaxes. "Tell us or take a drink."

You swipe up the shot set before you, downing it without so much as a wince. You cross your arms, keeping your chin defiantly raised as you settle further into the couch, "I'm not telling you anything."

“Boo,” Sam playfully heckles, his drink sloshing in his hand. “Come on, it’s not that big a deal. Just tell us.”

“Absolutely not, I already took the damn drink.”

Sam quirks an eyebrow, refusing to back down, “Unless it was someone here?”

“Oh my God.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Sam, I did not hook up with anyone in this room.”

“Yes!” Sam teases. “That explains everything! That’s why you drank!”

“Or maybe I just don’t kiss and tell.”

“You’ve been drinking all night. And there’s only one reason you won’t tell us anything - because it’s someone in this very room!”

“Settle down, Sherlock,” Bucky cajoles.

You swipe the glass from Sam's loose grip, “You’re drunk, Sam.”

Sam boops your nose, swiping the glass back, “I’m not the one that’s been drinking for every question.”

“And yet, I'm still not nearly as drunk as you are," you shoot back, setting your drink on the table. You pat Bucky's shoulder, standing up from the couch, "And now, I’m going to bed. Goodnight, children.”

“Come on,” Sam drunkenly whines. “Don’t be a sore loser!”

“I have a debrief first thing, and I’m the only one of you assholes that won’t need to be carried to my room.”

Sam shouts after you, “Boo!”

Not a moment later, you feel a warm hand tap your shoulder, “Hey, wait up! I’ll walk you up.”

“Oh, sure.”

As you walk together, Bucky leans in conspiratorially, “So… now that it’s just us… Who was it?”

You groan, “Not you too.”

“Come on! It’s me! You can tell me!” Bucky cajoles.

“It’s none of your business.”

"I’m not asking for details. I just wanna know."

"You’re pushy when you’ve been drinking that Asgardian stuff, you know that?"

"Come on. It really can't be that bad. I probably don't even know the guy... unless I do?"

You hold his gaze for a moment, silently pleading with him to just drop it, "Bucky... enough."

"Was it Sam? Steve? Come on, I won't judge you if it was."

"Bucky, stop."

"Come on, just tell me!"

"No! Now drop it!" you snap.

Bucky freezes, his eyes widening, "I'm - I'm sorry, I didn't think it was that big of a deal."

You start to storm off, tossing a sharp retort over your shoulder, "Maybe not to you."

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry." He jogs after you, resting his warm, gentle hand on your forearm to stop you, "Really. You don't have to tell me. I was just being a dick. You’re right, it’s none of my business."

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling the guilt pooling in the pit of your stomach for yelling at Bucky. "I can't tell you."

His brows furrow, "What?"

This was it. This was when everyone found out your deep, dark, embarrassing secret. You take another deep breath, bracing yourself for Bucky’s laughter and ridicule, "I can't tell you... because it hasn't happened yet."

His worry and confusion only compounds. His neck cranes slightly, almost like he believes his super solider hearing failing him is more plausible than your complete and total inexperience, "What?"

You take another massive breath, your cheeks heating, "I've never - it never happened for me."

“Huh?”

“Please don’t make me say it again.”

"Wait, wait, but earlier - earlier Natasha asked you about your first time. You said - you said it happened later than people might think."

You couldn’t believe he really wasn’t getting it. It was something you had come to accept about yourself. There was just something fundamentally wrong with you. Something not quite right. Something unloveable - at least in the romantic sense.

Shame heats your face, and you have to clench your fists in some hopeless attempt to keep it together in front of Bucky.

You try to shrug as casually as you can, "It's not technically a lie. Most people don't think someone can make it this long without your first kiss happening."

“Wait, wait.” If he was struggling to understand before, this may have just broken him. ��You haven’t had your first kiss?”

You swallow the knot in your throat, hoping the word doesn’t sound as strangled as it feels, “No.”

Your shoulders sharply rise with a forced intake of breath as you wait for it. You wait for the litany of platitudes. The halfhearted consolations and excuses.

While you’d never told anyone about this missed rite of passage, you had mistakenly confided in a select few. You never said too much. Never said that you hadn’t ever been kissed. You usually offered something offhanded about not really dating much.

They didn’t need to know just how deep your inexperience ran. It didn’t matter anyway. The response was always the same. Some surface level words of comfort or dismissal.

You could practically hear the words falling from Bucky’s lips.

'It'll happen when you least expect it.'

'You just have to stop looking.'

'Put yourself out there.'

'You should lower your standards.'

'You're not missing out on much.'

The words you know all too well never come.

He chews on his bottom lip, his own mental turmoil as clear as day on his face. He didn’t know what to say and that was clear. He opens his mouth and your brace yourself for impact.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

You freeze, a little shocked by his response. “Don’t be.”

“No, no, I was being a dick and pushing you to talk about something you’re not comfortable with. I should understand that better than anyone else here.”

“I just - I don’t really tell people. It’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing?”

“Yeah, Bucky,” you scoff, a little too defensive. “It’s a little embarrassing. I’m a grown ass woman that’s never been kissed. I’m a grown woman that no one’s ever show the least bit of interest in.”

His hands stop mid air, “I’m sorry, what?”

“What?”

He quirks an incredulous brow, “No one’s shown interest?”

“No…”

His entire head twists with disbelief, “No one? Really?”

“I’ve never even been asked on a date before,” you confess.

“What?”

“Will you quit saying that?”

“Sorry, sorry! It’s just a little hard to believe.”

You can't help but roll your eyes, “Why is that hard to believe?”

“Because it’s you! Look at you! Someone must’ve shown interest at some point.”

You try to shrug it off again, desperately hoping that Bucky doesn’t see how much this actually does hurt, “No. It’s always just been me.”

“Not even like a schoolyard crush or something?”

“Well, I had crushes, sure. That doesn’t mean that anyone had them on me.” Bucky’s face remains frozen in that confused, disbelieving grimace for a beat too long after you’ve finished speaking that you feel desperate to paper over the emotional cracks. It’s fine. That’s what you’ve told yourself your entire life, and that’s exactly what you’ll tell him, “Listen, I’m fine with it now. I’ve come to terms with it. I’m content. Maybe romance just isn’t in-“

“Can I kiss you?”

Now, it was your turn to look confused and taken aback, “What?”

“Can I?” he offers again, his eyes flicker to your lips so quickly you can’t be sure you didn’t just imagine it. “Kiss you?”

You immediately begin to backtrack, taking a half step back to put some distance between the two that seems to shrink with every passing moment, “Bucky, you really don’t have to do that.”

“What if I want to?”

Your eyebrows pull together in disbelief. “Do you?”

“Yes.” His answer is so immediate and reflexive it’s hard not to believe him. “I want to. Please.”

His whispered ‘please’ is your undoing. You nod ever so slightly, your voice nothing but a choked whisper, “I won’t be good at it.”

“I don’t believe that.” At this point, he’s staring at your lips more than anything else. His flesh hand raises to your cheek, softly cupping it. “Just relax.”

Your breathing comes faster as his breath dances across your cheeks, “Bucky…”

“I want you to remember this.” You’re not sure he meant to say that out loud, but the words sent a pleasantly unfamiliar shudder down your spine.

And without another word, his lips gently brush yours. For a long moment, you just stand there, not moving an inch. Until your hand moves of its own accord to rest on his chest. It slowly trails up his shoulder and down to the nape of his neck. Your mouth hesitantly moves against his, slowly becoming more relaxed with each little breathy sound he pulls from you.

It feels like forever and a split second all at once. Especially when he slowly drags his lips away from yours. As he pulls away, he licks his lips like he’s savoring the taste of you while it still lingers on his lips.

He rest his head against yours for a long moment. His lips are puffy and glistening under the low light of the Compound hallway, “There. Now, you’ve been kissed.”

AnonymityIsFun MasterlistBucky Barnes Masterlist

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarnes @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a @weallhaveadestiny @mostlymarvelgirl @honeydew3064 @michealharrypotter @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @withyoutilltheendoftheline @the-photo-hoe @rae-nna @sarachabeans1@double-shot-of-tequila @spookyparadisesheep @lunaalovesyouu @daisy-loves-bucky@roseproseposts @theoraekenslover@king814318 @maybesomedaytho @carlie-babes99 @sunshinechikin @as-white-as-snow-love @melala1030 @badasswlthafatass @armystay89 @multiversefanfics @cherrysscinema @breathlesspieceofdeath @ravenn-darkholme @bxckybxrnes24 @guiltyasreid @bellabarnes1378 @blithecapricorn @mrsnikstan @marvelatthem @capswife @1-akira-2 @generalmoonpolice

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton Chapter 7, Part 2

masterpost I am not a doctor lol

“And look up,” the doctor instructed before pulling away the pen light.

Danny blinked back the after images that it left. The eye exam certainly didn’t help, but the overwhelming feeling of seeing was better. Everything was still on the blurry side—too soft, too bright, too white—but it didn’t make Danny want to hide from the world anymore.

“Well, the good news is, your eyes are dilating and have no issue with movement. They’re just far too dilated. We’ll need to get you to an ophthalmologist to be sure, but I suspect that your vision will return to normal as the side effects of the event fade.”

“‘kay,” Danny rasped. He took a grateful sip from the cup Wally passed him before he tried to continue, “Same on the hearing, or…?”

Danny didn’t much like the way the doctor frowned.

“It could be,” the doctor said. It was clear the effort she was putting in to speak loudly and articulately enough, “but hearing doesn’t bounce back the way eyes can. I think it would be good to at least be braced for bad news. The good news, even if it’s bad news, is that you seem to still have some hearing in both ears, so you should be a good candidate for hearing aids.”

Danny rubbed at his face with a shaky hand. “Right. Thank you. What do we think about the hand tremors?”

“Another wait and see. But we’ll start you on some physical and occupational therapy. You and the Flash can be be PT buddies,” the doctor said with a little smile. She really was doing her best. “I also want everyone to watch for signs of seizures, especially more minor ones. Like a lot of the cases here, you’re a one off, but that doesn’t mean that we won’t do everything that we can to take care of you.”

“Thanks, really,” Danny said. “I think I’m just here for right now, so whatever works for those appointments? You can let Nightwing know when they are if I’ve crashed again or not remembering or something.”

“The memory issues should go away as you stay awake and get oriented, but I’ll make sure that Nightwing knows of all appointments also. I know it’s easy to lose track of time when you’re healing.” The doctor stood and rolled her gloves off. “Make sure to eat and hydrate while you’re awake, but rest when you need and keep the oxygen in when you’re resting. Flash—stay put and keep that IV in.”

“Yes ma’am!” Wally chirped as Dick showed her out.

Wally hooked his chin over Danny’s shoulder and pulled him back against his chest. Danny let himself slump back into the hold with a sigh. He found the straw to sip at just so that he didn’t have to say anything right away.

“Alright!” Dick said with a clap of his hands. “Food! As long as Wally drinks his smoothies and stays on that IV, we’re not on a restrictive diet, so Danny, what are you thinking?”

“Trash,” Danny decided. “Nuggets and fries and like a shake or something. Just salty trash.”

“Deal! Shake flavor and dipping sauce?”

“Strawberry I guess and like, honey mustard? Honey something. Surprise me.”

“Can do,” Dick said complete with a little salute. “I’m going to to let the others know you’re awake awake and get their food order too, okay? But I’ll keep the horde away for now.”

“Thanks,” Danny said with a grateful smile. He liked the all the Titans, but he really just couldn’t right then, not with his senses all off. Two was just enough. After Dick left, Danny leaned a little more firmly against Wally. “Nice to be able to finally touch you.”

Wally said something then cleared his throat and said more clearly, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Even though… just… some of those things might be permanent,” Wally said, voice almost dipping too long a few times.

“Yeah,” Danny sighed. “I really hope the vision isn’t. I’d like the tremors not to be too, you know? And the seizures would suck if they’re as bad, but I bet there’d be medication for that at least.”

When Wally sighed, it was with his whole body. “You’re so calm about it. I—Danny, you got hurt bringing me back, maybe for good. That… doesn’t that make you mad?”

Danny played with Wally’s fingers as he thought about how to answer that. “You’ve had to have been hurt as Flash.”

“I heal fast,” Wally pouted.

“Okay, lucky guy,” Danny said with a little snort. “But you have or Dick has. You know it’s part of being a hero.”

“You’re a civi right now. You’re a civi and I’m not. I know that even heroes can need rescuing, but you shouldn’t have been hurt because I fucked up!”

Ah, that was it.

Danny brought up Wally’s fingers and kissed them lightly. “Everyone fucks up. And part of me will always be that stupid teen who was a hero. I’ll deal with what this got me just like I deal with the aches and pains I already have. I don’t blame you.”

“You should.”

“I don’t,” Danny insisted. “And you have to respect me enough to know that I went into this willingly and with open eyes. If you can’t do that, then our date when we’re free from here needs to be a friendly dinner instead. I’m not going to be with someone who doesn’t respect my right to decide.”

Wally left out a huff of air like he was deflating. “Sorry. I didn’t mean too… just… hero guilt.”

“I get it, really I do,” Danny said. “But shove it aside, okay? Because both of us are here and alive and I think that’s a damn good outcome when dealing with unknowable forces of the space time continuum.”

“Nerd,” Wally teased.

“Oh like you aren’t.”

“No, I totally am,” Wally said, “but now I have someone to curl up and watch Star Trek with. I love Dick, but he’s an absolute pop culture heathen. He swings between cartoons and reality tv.”

Danny held back a laugh and nodded wisely instead. “Well, we’ll put on ‘The Voyage Home’, and he can fall asleep to the dulcet whale songs.”

“Perfect, as soon as you can hear better,” Wally promised with a soft kiss to Danny’s temple.

[potatodemon-beesensible]

Personal and deeply emotional rant incoming. Unrelated to ai but very much so related to identity, trauma, and harassment. Also a vent. Not everyone would wanna read this kinda thing so here’s a markdown. To specify, I’m doing alright and am vibing. It’s just healthy to express this stuff.

This is my attitude with many things tbh. Even if ya can’t win, make it incredibly inconvenient for whoever you despise. Not in a petty way, if I can leave something and vibe happily I will leave it. HOWEVER. If a statement must be made a statement must be made. Fingers may be bitten off. If someone doesn’t take no for an answer and they’re harassing me… submitting to it brings back too much trauma. They will get hurt. I’m a very controlled person, and I’m not losing that control again. I will almost always make the choice to leave something and deal with it. I’m just… very earnestly terrified of going through all that again for no good reason.

To specify, this is also if I can’t simply avoid them and a higher up won’t do anything about it even after I bring it up with how much it’s impairing me. Oftentimes with harassment… you can’t really avoid it. It’s usually in areas you either HAVE to go to or simply enjoy going to. If something’s important enough to me, I’m not ‘sucking it up’ as some idiots like to say. I know what it’s like to give up… and just- no. Not again. I don’t even think I’m capable of giving up at this point. I just… want a job and I wanna chat with my friends. That’s basically it.

My dad does actually piss me off at times… just with some things he says in response when I try explaining this. He struggles to wrap his head around it. I genuinely respect and admire him but… I guess someone who hasn’t lost their entire sense of self before wouldn’t get it. It is frustrating to try explaining to him. I’d mainly relate it to coming out of the closet with being lgbt for the first time, being shoved back in, then coming out again much more firmly being EXTREMELY averse to not presenting as your true self/gender.

Like- it feels like he doesn’t believe me when I explain it to him. Like the concept of me having THAT extreme of an aversion to being dehumanized/harassed is insane to him. And that hurts.

I have been to family gatherings in fem clothing, seen some of the looks people give me, and immediately go into fight or flight mode basically. If they approach me about to say something, I will take in every bit of their body language to try and get a read on them. And I am actively thinking about the nastiest most hurtful possible thing to say to them if they try putting me down for wearing something ‘not fitting for a guy’. If I don’t know anything about them I’ll just grin from stress and tell them to “Stop talking and leave”. But if I do have any knowledge on something personal and emotional to them, I absolutely will not hesitate to say it. To me, it doesn’t even matter how they take it. Just that I said the worst possible thing I could think of and did not take any bullcrap. If I downplayed and degraded them for their pain and personal experiences, good. That was a proper response.

To specify, this is only if they actually say something horrible. Doesn’t matter if they put it nicely. Like- obviously I have self control. I don’t get so pissed off that I can’t help myself. I very much so have the self control to CHOOSE not to say something back. And I won’t if I’m actually in a dangerous/unpredictable setting. I value my safety above all of this and I refuse to let myself get hurt if it can be prevented, I’m not worrying my friends for that.

It’s just that the point is that I CHOSE to say something absolutely cruel and horrendous to someone else when I did not have to. I will literally say anything in response to “You shouldn’t be dressing like that”. Anything. I will make them cry if I’m able to. And if they run off that’s a breath of fresh air.

Like… I feel like my dad’d just get upset with me in this scenario. When really now the reason why I’m like this is because no one stood up for me when it mattered. And this is the raw, genuine product. There is one Chara comic I relate to quite a lot… I genuinely feel it and it hits for me. But not fully. Like- it’s more on the lines of “Chara makes an outright death threat” whereas I’m just… not that. I’m not what one would call aggressive. I’m always going to be passive in any situation, it’s just that I know when to rev it up when necessary. Funnily enough I think I also get Bruce Banner’s line of “I’m always angry” before he turns into the hulk. Once you have that trauma… it’s just there. Even when you’re not feeling it it’s in some part of your mind. I guess that’s why I can get so intense at times. It’s just… always there to tap into when something actually matters to me. I work much better under stress, yes. I’m much more productive. But I don’t WANT to use that side of myself for that. Just… no. It’s part of why I’ve taken so much time for myself after I graduated. I… didn’t want to move forward tapping into that part of me for work. So I think that a Nurse job’d be really good for me. I have caring and nurturing instincts separate from my trauma. So… I figure I won’t have to revert to a lotta my coping mechanisms when under stress for that kinda job. I can just nurture and care about what I’m doing, letting that get me through the day.

[artytaeh]

okay. so, hear me out

we all talk about how the slytherin boys seem to never loose a chance for a fight. doesn’t matter the reason, or if there is any in the first place. it’s a well known fact they’re good with their firsts

but i thought . .

what would each of the slytherin boys’ reaction be to you throwing a punch for them because `` somebody was talking shit about them behind their back `` ?

the second paragraph got my attention. it made me think why the slytherin boys would get into fistfights and how good they are at throwing a punch.

mattheo's experience was built in physical impulsivity since he first felt the need to defend himself; theodore learned from mattheo because being his best friend walks hand in hand with supporting mattheo through his chaos; lorenzo comes from observing mattheo's antics; blaise definitely got a stepfather somewhere who was closer than the others, and blaise liked him because he taught blaise stuff that fathers, typically, teach their sons; draco is lucky that he's armed with a lot of rings and somehow it works.

about being defended by their significant other...

MATTHEO is torn. on one hand, hot as fuck; on the other hand, please tell him that it didn't fuck up your knuckles. definitely giddy that he was worth the fight in someone's eyes, especially a loved one like you are. if you got hurt, mattheo will carefully bandage/take care of your fingers himself, then teach you how to properly land a punch — and the weakest spots you could go for, in any scenario you might find yourself in. still insists that you have him for a reason; mattheo is here to beat up his way for you, so no need for you to get your hands dirty. probably the beginning of playing tickle fights.

THEODORE immediately dislikes the idea that he indirectly provoked problems slash pain for his partner. even though theo can't control people's opinions, he can't help the guilt that naturally comes to him, wondering if his bad habits are being, somehow, influencing you to do the same. doesn't want you to think that he's angry, so after some silence, he gives you a smile and breaks the quietness with a sarcastic comment to make you laugh. discreetly implies that he'd rather not bring you to his mess, while pressing a kiss to each of your knuckles.

LORENZO would be giddy. at first, his boyfriend instincts would fire loud alarms in his mind, then soothing with a sense of pride that he's being defended by his partner. enzo enjoys the attention, truly, to the point that he doesn't immediately get upset that people are tearing his image apart in a harmful way. gently coaxes you away from the conflict, caressing the hands that defended him with you on his lap; kisses you silly, every inch of skin he finds. and when you're distracted, enzo makes sure that he got the funny guy or girl alone to make a proper threat to shut the fuck up—more important than that, for them to leave his partner alone.

BLAISE doesn't fancy conflicts. avoids them because he's too classy and superior to that, unless absolutely necessary—if someone manages to get him that furious, or to make sure that his friends aren't outnumbered. blaise might hear people talking badly about him, but in his eyes, it's more powerful the act of not caring/treating those gossip as an unimportant thing that'd waste his time clearing up. that being said, wouldn't really like that you are increasing the problem—but wouldn't be mean about it. takes you away from the fight with grace, smoothly talks you into ignoring those words with him.

DRACO is a mess of different opinions, thoughts and feelings. it's not a surprise that he'd enjoy the chaos, especially if his partner landed a good hit on whoever low life that wasted time badmouthing draco. makes a 'oooh' sound—like in poa during beasts class, or gof while cheering for the dragons—with his friends joining to hype you up. only afterwards does he get slightly insecure that people might think that he needs someone to defend him, because he's not enough to defend himself on his own. wouldn't take it out on you, but the doubt would eat him away.

[weirdmarioenemies]

It's the first post of Pride Month! You know who SHOULDN'T be proud?

Hammer Bro and his ilk, that's who! They should be ASHAMED, because they are emblematic of an issue I have with emblems in Mario spinoffs. Look at his emblem. That's just his head from the side! What's the point of that? His head is already well-represented by virtue of being a prominent part of his actual design, which we are already looking at. That makes this, to me, a bad emblem!

An emblem, generally, to me, should not just be a depiction of the character. It should be some kind of iconography they're known for. In Mario Party 8, Hammer Bro's emblem was a hammer. That's what I mean! That's his thing, and it's not immediately visible in his design. As an Italian chef would say, "Splendid! (but with an Italian accent)"! I can see what they might be going for with the Bros, maybe giving them a more soldier-like aesthetic and emphasizing the helmets, but it is simply boring. Give Hammer Bro a hammer, Fire Bro a fireball, Ice Bro an iceball, and Boomerang Bro a boomerang. As a French chef would say, "Bellissimo!" Now, I want to- hold on, what? That chef is a fraud! Get outta here.

Now, I want to emphasize that a Depiction Emblem, as I'll call them, is not by default a bad thing. Here are some I find quite good, due to how they work with established concepts and imagery! Shy Guy's mask is the core of the character, so it's a good emblem. Dry Bones is a skeleton, and a Skull is basically the mascot of the "Skeletons" franchise, so I'm fine with that. Bowser's stylized face has been representing him and the Koopa Troop as a whole for a LONG time, so it works perfectly for him. Bowser Jr. and the Koopalings follow suit, which makes perfect sense. Toad's icon looks not just like his head, but like a Super Mushroom. And Petey Piranha's is not only simplified, but facing directly upward, in a Piranha Plant's favorite attack pose. These and others all work quite nicely!

Now I'd like to discuss some that work poorly. Some Mario characters who got their picture taken for their karting license, took one look, and thought "yep, that's me. That's what I'm all about." And they're technically not WRONG... but they need to learn about the pizzazz!

WIGGLER

This is one I remember being disappointed by way back in 2012, well before I was the Super Mario Scholar I now fancy myself. On the low 3DS resolution, I initially thought it was a strange flower, but then I realized it's just Wiggler's face! It's cute, but so predictable. Even if there's not specifically a problem with the emblem, I wish there was a little more thought put into choosing it, you know?

For Wiggler, I would suggest a flower! It had a flower emblem in Mario Power Tennis, representing the one on its head, and I think a rare birds-eye view of that flower would be cute. Alternatively, they could do something like Diddy Kong's icon, which is more of a pattern than an individual icon, and make it look like a Wiggler segment. The emblem is already round, and Wiggler's length and segments are one of its major aspects!

MONTY MOLE

I like Monty Mole. I like Monty Mole's face. But again, no pizzazz! Maybe the framing is supposed to evoke Whack-A-Mole, but I think that's a stretch. Monty Mole is never really associated with any props, besides rocks and dirt clumps, but those are not very visually interesting. In this case, I actually think a full-body depiction would be good! Monty Mole's signature pose is the one it does with its arms up while popping out of the ground. Mario Kart knows this well, with it featured in Monty's trick animations, and the arms being present on the Monty Mole Mii costume's helmet. So, for Monty's emblem, I would suggest a depiction or perhaps silhouette of this pose, possibly including the hole beneath, if it's not too cluttered!

KAMEK

This is one that especially bothers me, because I love Kamek so much, and love to play as him! This emblem does immediately strike one as Kamek, yes, but you know by now that I will die without an IV pumping Stylistic Representative Mario Pizzazz into my bloodstream. Kamek ABSOLUTELY has unique imagery associated with him, and by that I mean the shapes seen whenever he uses his magic! Whether on their own, from a wand, in a puff of smoke, or on a full purple background, I think they would make an excellent icon.

These next two will have backgrounds because they're from Mario Party instead of Mario Kart. Sowwy

NINJI

This one seems obvious. Ninji gets a shuriken. It may not have used any in mainline games, but it has in Paper Mario. Easy! But not as easy as the next one!

SPIKE

Spike Pog may be powerful, but it is also a bit baffling. WHY Spike Pog? This is indeed the side profile of Spike as it throws a spike ball. And that is its Iconic Action. So its emblem represents that it throws spike balls... but it shows its face while doing it, rather than the spike ball itself! What the heck!

It was his icon in Mario Golf where he was an NPC. Maybe they thought it looked a little bland? I think they could make it look better. Just so strange!

That's MOST of the characters, this applies to, but there are some I'm just sort of split on: Funky Kong, Nabbit, King Bob-omb, and Poochy. They are all Depictions, but I kind of can't think of anything better for them? Funky's is nicely stylized, Nabbit's is stylized nicely enough, and the other two, I just can't really think of something. King Bob-omb, I think, NEEDS his mustache represented, and Poochy is a bit too weird of a dog to be represented by something like a paw print.

All of this has been my opinion, of course! I would like to hear what YOU think of these emblems, and if YOU think there are better options, and even if YOU think my suggestions for replacement are idiotic poopy garbage! (don't say it like that though please be nice)

[broomsticks]

museum of ephemera. museum of things. museum of brilliant plots and cutting clapbacks lost to the night. museum of songs you can't get out of your head. museum of i don't know you and yet i feel like i do. museum of washing the ink down the drain.

museum of malicious compliance. museum of learning just how far one can bend without breaking. museum of mirrors. museum of lies—damned lies, and fiction. museum of being too much, museum of being still here. museum of showing up with everything in your hands. you know what? you want it? fucking have it. have it all, all of it. museum of up and up and oh my god the world looks so different from here. museum of typing and backspacing, typingtypingtyping. archive of save for later. is it later now?

museum of voice notes. museum of numb. museum of i am so young and i am learning how to live. museum of stories—the same story, told in twenty different ways. is it later now? museum of playlists. museum of crying. museum of finally getting it right.

museum of break glass to enter. catalogue of rain. museum of muddy boots, of jackets like armor. museum of missing what never existed to be found. museum of memories, fabricated and real. museum of this is the thing that will make it make sense. museum of trying again. museum of being precise, and kind. museum of tired. museum of letting go. museum of keeping. museum of characters who argue back the way you don't.

gallery of sidequests. of detours. of gifts. museum of choice. big eyes, bigger hope. museum of it's you, isn't it, that i've been waiting for. you're my person. i'll follow you anywhere. museum of waiting for the sound of keys in the door. museum of joy. museum of choice.

museum of patterns. selection of these things i know to be true. collection of records; language as sanctuary. museum of rewrites and restarts and what if i tried it like this instead. museum of wanting to say the realest possible thing. museum of the over-considered thought. museum of wondering if you should've said more.

museum of say it louder for the people in the back. museum of being reminded of why you started. museum of taking the pieces and calling it art. parlor of marginalia. museum of showing up. of staying. of getting through it.

museum of try. museum of still here.

museum of wet paint; please touch.

open hours: now until i figure it out.

Museum of

[katnipp]

mechanic!manon fic where she keeps flirting with yn using really corny car jokes and flexing her abs and muscles not-so-nonchalantly while working on yn’s car 😭

full throttle flirting— manon bannerman

genre: FLUFFF

synopsis: y/n’s car keeps breaking down, but maybe it’s just an excuse to see manon — whose jokes and smiles make the garage feel like home

—

the first time y/n walks into the garage, it’s because her car makes a noise that can only be described as “grinding” she’s expecting an old guy in oil-stained overalls and a weird beard. what she gets instead is abs.

and muscle. and a mechanic with a golden tan, calloused hands, and a tank top so ripped it’s honestly rude. manon stands up from behind a lifted camaro like she’s in a commercial, dragging a rag across her jawline and grinning like she knows exactly what she looks like.

“let me guess,” she says, eyes flicking over y/n. “engine trouble?”

y/n, brain short-circuiting: “uh yeah.”

“don’t worry, babe,” manon smirks, “i’ll treat her right. i’m good with my hands.”

⸻

visit #1 — the diagnosis

y/n sits on a crate and tries not to pass out while manon pokes around under her hood. every five seconds, manon drops a pun like a wrench. some are so bad y/n has to clutch her water bottle like a lifeline.

“your spark plugs are loose,” she says. “just like my morals when someone cute walks in.”

“you’re so unserious.”

“no, really. my heart’s revving up just looking at you.”

“that doesn’t even make sense.”

“neither does how good you look in this lighting.”

by the time the repair’s done, y/n’s not sure what’s overheating more — her engine or her brain.

“how much do i owe you?” she asks weakly.

“first visit’s free,” manon says, leaning back and shamelessly stretching her arms. her abs catch the sun like a greek statue. “unless you wanna pay me in digits.”

“digits?”

“you know. phone number. blood type. whatever works with you.”

⸻

visit #2 — maybe she sabotaged herself?

ten days later, y/n’s back. totally normal. not at all because she might have accidentally unplugged something under her hood googling “easy car problems that look real.”

“well, well, well,” manon grins, stepping out of the garage like she’s emerging from a thirst trap. “look who’s back to jump-start my heart.”

“i think something’s… clunking?”

“probably me falling for you.”

y/n might melt. this time, manon makes her hold the flashlight. y/n’s hand shakes slightly. when manon reaches up and adjusts it, she doesn’t let go of y/n’s wrist for a beat too long.

“better grip,” she says, like her fingers aren’t still curled around y/n’s.

“you could literally just say you like holding my hand.”

manon smirks. “busted.”

⸻

visit #3 — it rains. obviously.

her car stalls mid-turn. again. conveniently two blocks from the garage. she pushes it there in the rain.

manon answers the door wearing a sleeveless hoodie and boxers. y/n wants to cry. or pass out. or marry her on the spot.

“damn,” manon says, stepping aside. “you really know how to make an entrance.”

“my life is falling apart.”

“well, good news. i fix things for a living.”

manon hands her a towel, pulls her inside the garage, and grabs her a hoodie that hangs down to her knees.

they sit on the workbench while thunder rolls. manon leans back, wet hair sticking to her jaw, fingers absently playing with a socket wrench. “you know,” she says, voice soft, “my mom taught me everything in this shop.”

y/n looks up. “yeah?”

“used to build go-karts in the back with her.” manon shrugs, quieter now. “she said if something’s broken, fix it. if someone’s hurting, be kind. if a girl’s really cute and keeps showing up with car problems… shoot your shot.”

y/n’s heart stutters.

“was that part of the lesson plan?”

“might’ve improvised that one.”

⸻

visit #5 — grease and golden hour

the fix is minor. manon finishes early. it’s sunset. the garage is golden and soft and warm and smells like pine and oil and maybe something sweeter now — something like hope.

manon wipes a smudge of grease off y/n’s cheek with her thumb. slow. careful. thumb lingers a little too long.

“you’ve got something right…”

“is it charm?”

“i was gonna say ‘unprocessed trauma,’ but sure.”

they laugh. manon’s eyes soften. she leans in, bracing one hand beside y/n’s hip on the car hood.

“i gotta ask,” she murmurs. “are you really this unlucky with your car? or just incredibly bad at pretending not to flirt back?”

y/n breathes, “maybe i’m just into mechanics with god-tier biceps.”

“well,” manon says, eyes flicking to her mouth. “good thing i do full service.”

and then she kisses her

—

a/n: whoever requested this ILYSM.

[sanjarka]

and the thing is (and i'm not being objective about this at all. like i'm very aware of that trust me) if you're not going to appreciate and like and be at least slightly obsessed with the romance in the hunger games universe (especially with everlark) then i feel you're not going to take everything these books have to offer and will be missing so many important details. if the berries are not a love act in any way for you then every other aspects of the story turns into something else and becomes weaker and less interesting. it's so much more than a subplot you can remove if needed.

[kxsagi]

hi pretty !! <3

i was wondering if u could possibly do a nagi scenario with a gf that has bigger thighs and chest ? theyre my biggest personal insecurities and i feel like nagi likes ppl with a softer body type if u get me !! 😭

obv if u dont feel comfortable or if uve done something similar pls dont feel pressured to do this ! i js recently found ur blog and i love the way that u write for nagi :((

thank u so much and have a great day / night !

“𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭”

a/n: hiii! thank you and yes, i absolutely can write this and hope you enjoy!

ur so beautiful, i don't need to see you to know that, and i hope you love your body and move with confidence every day because you absolutely deserve to! 💗

have a great day/night as well!

you never meant for him to see you like this. 

curled up at the edge of his bed, hoodie bunched over your thighs, legs pulled close to your chest like they’re something to be hidden. his hoodie, actually – comically oversized, but somehow not big enough when the intrusive thoughts creep in, whispering cruel things about softness and skin and space you take up. 

nagi watches you from the doorway. he was just brushing his teeth. just stepped out for a second. just went to grab the snacks you asked for, and yet somehow, in that short window, your smile dimmed and your arms wrapped around your knees like armor. 

he doesn’t say anything right away. just walks over slowly, barefoot, the fabric of his joggers brushing softly with every lazy step. the silence stretches, but not in an awkward way, more like the hush before a soft rain. 

“you okay?” he asks, voice quiet. not sleepy. concerned. 

you hesitate, trying to pass it off with a smile. “yeah. just tired.” 

but nagi isn’t stupid. he’s just chill. observant in a way people never give him credit for. 

his fingers lightly tug at the hem of your hoodie. “you’re doing the thing again.” 

“what thing?” 

“where you shrink,” he says, expression unchanging, but eyes more serious than usual. “like you’re trying to disappear.” 

you go quiet, and that’s all he needs. 

nagi doesn’t press you. just climbs into bed with a sigh like gravity’s pulling him into you, like he belongs next to you. without hesitation, he tugs you gently into his arms, long limbs wrapping around your frame, burying his face against your neck. 

“don’t do that,” he mumbles, lips brushing your skin. “don’t hide from me.” 

your heart aches at how gentle he is. how careful he is with you. like you’re something fragile, but not in a bad way, just something worth handling with intention. 

“i don’t like how my body looks,” you whisper. “especially next to yours.” 

he lifts his head, messy hair flopping lazily over his eyes. “huh? what does that mean?” 

you can’t look at him. “i just… i’m not small, sei. my thighs are big. my chest is too much sometimes. i feel like i take up too much space.” 

for a moment, you expect silence. maybe a shrug. something vague. 

but then nagi blinks once, twice, and his face twists into the most confused expression, like you just told him the moon is made of cheese. 

“you’re literally perfect,” he says plainly. “i like that you take up space.” 

you blink, startled. 

“you’re soft,” he continues, dragging his hand down the curve of your thigh like it’s his favorite pillow. “and warm. and comfy. when i’m with you, i feel like… like the world’s not so harsh.” 

he shifts closer, tugging your leg over his own so you’re half on top of him now. there’s no shame in his touch. no hesitation. just this grounding weight of i want you here, like this. 

“your thighs?” he mumbles, nuzzling into the crook of your neck again. “my favorite place to nap.” 

his hand moves higher, tracing over your waist. “your chest?” he adds with a slightly sleepy smirk. “heaven. ten outta ten. would rest my face there forever.” 

you let out a soft laugh, heat creeping up your cheeks. 

“’s not a joke,” he grumbles. “you feel real. better than real. like… dream texture. if that makes sense.” 

“dream texture?” you snort. 

“mhm.” his lips brush against your collarbone. “like clouds. but better. ‘cause you’re mine.” 

you fall silent again, not out of shame this time, but because you don’t know what to say. his words feel like balm over old wounds. warm. slow. true. 

nagi pulls the blanket up over you both and holds you tighter. 

“don’t hide from me,” he says again, quieter now. “i love all the parts you’re scared of.” 

and just like that, the sharpness in your chest softens. your grip loosens. you lean into him, letting your body rest fully against his. 

and for the first time in a long time, you don’t shrink. 

you let yourself take up space in his arms, just like he wants. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[lilacs-echoing]

when my psychosis appeared i knew it was illogical, but believing people were living in my brain and watching me was like a sixth sense for me. it was as tangible as being able to feel my thumbs on my body when i was delusional. and people really didn't get this. id say ik i sound crazy, ik its not real its weird but I FEEL it so it must be there. once someone pointed out it was psychosis i knew i was experiencing it but it didn't make it go away. I had a doctor in a psych ward saying, "you know thats illogical right? it just doesn't make sense" like I was too smart to be delusional. we can definitely be aware we're having delusions, its still an uncontrollable feeling because all the evidence is "right there" and youre trying to tell your brain to stop. the part about not knowing what it is

but knowing it doesn't feel right is true, i thought mine was ocd symptoms because i also never hallucinated. it was when i described it and got the "are you seeing and hearing things that other people don't see and hear" from my psychiatrist that i was like shit. thats what it sounds like. and its still hard to believe im delusional, even though my meds made it go away.😓

I think people have this very unrealistic view of active psychosis based on reddit and tiktok posts that the typical presentation is being able to very effectively situationally mask and otherwise present as normal while living a fucked up fantasy life on the side, like idk, your husband has always acted normal and still is but then you find out he keeps a secret mannequin family under the porch and leaves rotten food offerings for them and stuff and now that he knows you know he’s plotting to murder you while still masking to all your friends and family. or you’ll feel totally normal and like nothing is wrong but you have a new roommate no one else acknowledges exists.

psychosis takes many forms, admittedly, but in general if someone is having a hardcore break with reality they will be showing outward signs of not being in good shape holistically speaking; they’ll neglect their hygeine and possibly stop eating, they may self harm or pick their skin/pull their hair, it could be very easy to mistake them for someone under the influence of drugs. personally, my psychotic episodes feel like waking dreams or fever-induced delirium and involve both insomnia and borderline narcolepsy.

“crazy people don’t even know they’re crazy! if you think you’re going crazy, you’re not, because if you were schizophrenic you wouldn’t even ask that question!” not to scare you bro but I think like 75% schizophrenic worry they’re going crazy when their symptoms first show up, like they may not realize they’re schizophrenic per se but they know SOMETHING is up