: - "Call Me Daddy" Ft. Maknae Line

݁ 𝟷𝟷 : 𝟷𝟷 - "Call Me Daddy" ft. Maknae Line

ot7 x fem!reader

Summary: Riize asking you to call them daddy

Cw: nsfw +18, established relationship, crack fic, humor, suggestive content, daddy kink, kys jokes

Hyung line vers

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

─── ⋆⋅Wonbin

─── ⋆⋅Seunghan

─── ⋆⋅Sohee

─── ⋆⋅Anton

° 𝟷𝟷 : 𝟷𝟷 - "She's Busy" ft. Hyung Line

Piwon x Fem!Reader

cw: fluff, established relationship, suggestive content, possessiveness, slight nsfw, mentioning of kms, jealousy

A/N: surprisee I'm a P1ece!! I know P1Harmony doesn't get attention on here like they should, but I mainly wrote this up as a self-indulgent thing.

maknae line>

Keeho - 기호

Theo - 테오

Jiung - 지웅

EVERYBODY SHUT UP

THE ATEEZ DADDIES HAVE GRILLZ, TATTOOS AND ARE PARTAKING IN VARIOUS CRIMES

This is why I write

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬 𝐄𝐏. 𝐈 : 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐦𝐚𝐧

❝ 𝘾𝙖𝙣'𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙚𝙚, 𝙄'𝙢 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙞𝙜𝙣? ❞

Pairings: Park Seonghwa x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Being begrudgingly seduced by the anarchist

Warnings: Language, Enemies to Lovers, Cop!Reader, Revolutionary!Seonghwa, Implied Violence, Crazy Form!Au, Seduction, Smut (+18, minors dni) Corruption Kink, Innocence Kink, Masochism, Humping, Fingering, pet names, Rough Sex, Massive Degradation Kink, Dom!Seonghwa, Sub!Reader, Squirting, Humiliation, Unprotected Sex, Hate Sex

A/n: I might turn this into a series featuring all the Pirates with their own smutty little parts because I cannot help re-watching the Crazy Form mv. It's too good

The very sight of the undulating mosh pit has your stomach rolling with nausea as you enter the dimly lit warehouse. The corrugated walls are illuminated only by various splotches of neon paint, and you suddenly feel the uncanny need to pray as you enter the crowd.

You begin to grow fearful, not onky because this crowd might birth a fresh panic attack, but because you fear for your focus as well.

That you may not be swayed from your mission.

The Intel that led you and your police partner here had been incredibly difficult to come by because every one of their little followers were so terribly loyal.

So naturally, upon receiving a tip off about a show being hosted on the seedier outskirts of town, you had no choice but to attend.

In this unpredictable field of law enforcement, of one thing you are completely certain: There will always be a clear distinction between the good and the bad and they are as bad as they come.

They are common criminals, and there is nothing else to it.

In fact, referring to them as anything but, feels like a gross display of exaltation. Exaltation, which is, evidently, what they are used to.

Disgust is smeared across your face as you and your police partner sieve your way through drunken bodies swaying to the sound of Seonghwa's voice. Although you're shoving roughly past people, all in an attempt to get to the front of the stage, you can not help but marvel at the crowd, undulating to the beat of a bandit.

His face, along with the faces of 7 of his fellow delinquents were smeared across every wanted poster in the city, and yet here he is, raging into a microphone while the crowd cheers his name.

“If I hear ‘Seonghwa’ one more time I fear I might shoot myself in the foot,” you call out, to your partner not far behind, “Keep a tight grip on your weapons, please,” you say, craning your neck back as you palm cradles your back pocket with the Glock 14 nestled inside, “We don't know what any of these idiots are on and I dont think we want to find out.”

Your civilian attire is successful in keeping the attention off of you and your partner as you break out of the heat and anxiety of the moshpit, right in front of center stage.

Seonghwa is right above you, cradling a microphone as if it were the Holy grail while his accomplice, a very inebriated San, bounds across the stage, stirring up the crowd like Seonghwa's personal hypeman.

You could almost feel your vexation increasing to ungodly heights.

Everything about this egregious display of egomania makes your blood boil raging hot, and although these are only 2, you find your hands clenching in anticipation of being one step closer to putting all 8 behind bars.

Your hatred seems to be oozing out of your pores because soon, you catch his attention. Perched on a stage elevated amongst the masses, he is looking at you now. You. Instead of any of the other drunken groupies in the crowd begging to get even a sliver of attention.

With both hands cuffed around the mic, he peers down at you and winks before belting out the final words of the song.

How badly you itched to bind his wrists with your silver cuffs.

How badly you wished to get him and his insolent underlings off the streets.

"They do know how to capture an audience… we can at least give them that," Your head snaps sideways as the words of your partner rouses what little patience you're already working with.

You tap lightly at his badge. The sound of your nail hitting the metal is drowned out by the raucaus applaud but your police partner watches you intently as you cooly say, “Don't forget why we're here, Sergeant,” your voice holds caution as the noise of the crowd trickles down.

The set ends, and the man on stage drenched in flamboyant white linen bids the crowd a ‘Very good night’. He strolls off stage, not without giving you one last, knowing glance.

‘If you catch me, it's because I let you catch me,’ is what those eyes seem to be saying.

So much for blending into an unsuspecting crowd.

“These are not your friends. They're common criminals.” Your voice is louder now, with the absence of that Seonghwa's cacophony. “Stay here, make sure none of these degenerates kill themselves.” You're hellbent om following Seonghwa off the stage, but your partner's light snickers have you pausing slightly. You raise your eyebrows in questioning.

“You speak about them like they're not just fans," Your partner shakes his graying head, "Like they're complicit,”

“They are." You almost immediately reply with a narrowed gaze. "As far as I'm concerned, their fans are just as bad as them.”

With those parting words you make your way towards the part of the warehouse sectioned off from the rest of the crowd, where Seonghwa and his accomplice disappeared off to in the wake of their applause.

You reach what appears to be a backroom hidden behind the makeshift stage. It is far quieter than the rest of the warehouse pulsating with cacophony. You do not miss the slight apprehension that swallows you whole when your feet stop you from venturing over the threshold.

“It doesn't look like you have a backstage pass,” San sits beside Seonghwa on a couch positioned in the focal point of the small room. You recognize hid face as another one of the men whose visage was stamped in a very large police docket on your desk.

“Apologies,” you murmer to San, “I only have one of these,” you raise your police ID to the side of your face and San rises from his seat in mild curiosity. He sinks closer to you while Seonghwa, the man who held most of your attention, sits reclined, with his legs spread on the wide sectional.

He sits lazily, almost kingly under a giant white sheet. A flag plastered to the wall, with a giant, obnoxious, A carelessly spray painted in black.

“I thought we said no fans allowed backstage." San says in a sing-song voice, blatantly ignoring your badge with his giant shoulders now bending down to your height. The circumference of his hat casts a wide shadow over you, all in a clear display of intimidation. "That counts for pigs, too.”

His steely gaze never wavers from your face, and you fight valiantly to keep your emotions tamed under a calm, nonchalant reserve. "If you're a cop, where's your uniform?" San does an obnoxious display of racking his eyes over your body.

"Your dad's place," you whisper cooly, "I couldn't put it on in time."

Your words have an unmistakable smile cracking on the sides of San's face. "I enjoyed that very much."

"I thought a degenerate like you might." Despite your words, San is still smiling. In fact, you fear yourself at risk of slipping right into that enchanting gaze of his were it not for the interception of the third voice in the room.

“How interesting,” Seonghwa's voice cuts through the tension blistering between you and San like a white, hot knife.

“Leave us.” San's head snaps backward towards his accomplice, and all Seonghwa does is smile as they communicate, quite literally without words right in front of you. Seonghwa evidently 'says' what is needed in order to get San slyly leaving room. Not before tipping his hat in parting.

With your attention now focused solely on the man ok the couch, drenched in the white linen, whose arms are outstretched and resting on the headrest, you suddenly find yourself completely and unfortunately unsure.

You had met plenty of prisoners. Dined with manner delinquents and questioned many criminals, it is only in his presence when you feel your usually tough reserve quaking at the smallest fraction. In the face of what is apparently true rebellion.

“Why don't you have a seat,” he snickers when he finds you already stepping over the threshold, making yourself all too comfortable in an evil space. Nothing good existed beyond this point.

“I hope you enjoyed the show,” There is a depth to his voice that is regrettably tickling down the edge of your spine, dousing every bit of pateince you had.

“You call it a show… I call it inciting a riot,” you shrug, finally choosing to sit beside him on the wide sectional. Far too close beside him and his outstretched arms.

Despite the warning bells, you refuse to exhibit any fear.

“Is that why you're here?” His voice remains steady as he focuses it on tracing the tips of his fingers against your shoulder. He wants to see how quickly his touch could elicit a valley of goosebumps.

He is all too pleased to find you shivering in protest.

“You're here to arrest me?” In all honesty, Seonghwa enjoyed watching you try to push him away for the sake of your precious morals. Call it masochism, but there is something enticing about a woman who so very clearly abhors everything he stands for. Seonghwa cannot help but find it almost irresistible. His captain always remarked on Seonghwa's enjoyment for not only fixing broken things but also obsessing over them.

You did not know that the frown plastered across your face only accelerated his racing heart more. Desire plunged through his arteries as he immediately recognized you as a challenge.

Something to perhaps break.

It would be so incredibly satisfying, especially because you represented everything he despised in this wretched world.

Order.

“Actually, no.” You say, staving off another shivsr as you evade Seonghwa’s steadily heavy growing eyelids. “We received a call that someone was disturbing the peace.”

“In an abandoned warehouse?” He asks, voice airy and tone almost dismissive because he is much closer to you now, leaning towards you, as if enchanted by your very scent. You watch him with apprehension as you begin to feel the very first signs of what you regrettably realize to be attraction.

However, you can not move off the couch now because you can not control any of your motor functions in your concrete bones. Every one of your morals howl for you to get away from this man. To cuff him, send him down to the precinct and convict him for... something…

but that 'something' does not come quick enough, and he's leaning closer to you, with both arms still resting on the couch behind you. Before you can blow up your entire career, and close the distance, you wrangle some bit of sense to turn your head sideways, evading his half lidded eyes and slightly parted lips.

Your blatant rejection rouses him slightly, and he readjusts himself in his seat. Seonghwa brings his legs together to better manage the heat rushing to his cock in the wake of your rejection and apparent attraction (and immense frustration) as he shifts even closer beside you.

“You will find no disturbance here,” he says, “Only music.”

His words release the floodgates of your vexation, and your head snaps as you fire off. “Music that you weaponize to spew your delinquency.”

“Ah. Ah.” Seonghwa dips his head down to your ear as he whispers, “Delinquency, or rebellion?”

You're laughing humorlessly into the air, effectively causing Seonghwa’s smile to widen and his cock to stiffen completely in the confies of his pitch black dress pants. You are oblivious to his eyes, watching you as if you hung the very moon.

“You and your… freaks preach your vitriol and call it ‘rebellion’ when all you're actually doing is polluting our city with riots and crime.”

“You don't wish to be liberated from an oppressive world order?” He adjusts himself again, getting far too excited with the way this conversation is flowing. Your wide eyes and high vibrato do little to calm his restlessness.

“What oppression!?”

His voice is quick and monotonous, “Capitalism. Classism. Racism.” His fingers clench and unclench before swiping against the back of your neck, “Why do you willingly submit to a system that is simply un-winnable? We want you to free yourselves from the hierarchy. Fucking wreck the system-”

“You're fucking Pirates,” you spit the word out, unwokowungly snapping the very last of your reserve before Seonghwa is pulling you into a heady, heavy kiss by the nape of your neck.

"Fuck yes," He whispers before pulling you in as if you weighed absolutely nothing and you let him. You let his lips move languidly against yours as your hands fall against his chains and the white linen frills spilling from his collar. His hand is still positioned on the nape of your neck and he squeezes, forcing you to kiss him back. He groans into your mouth when you begin to work with him instead of against him. You mouth falling open as his tongue collides with yours.

Vaguely, in the background, outside these four walls, you can hear the crowd beginning to cheer once again as raucous music spills from unseen speakers. You can hear San beginning to sing into a mic, and your hand on Seonghwa's shirt curls imperceptibly.

“You're so beautiful…” You hate how easily his words affect you. You hate what a slave to desire you seem to be as he leans back to immediately push his hands in between your legs.

“Tell me to stop,” he challenges, keeping his feline eyes trained on you as he unclips the buttons of your jeans with one hand. “Tell me you don't want this disgusting delinquent to make you cum over and over again.”

Your lips are pursed painfully, and you throw your head back with your eyes clenched shut as you lift your hips. All the better for him to wriggle your jeans down to your ankles.

As he brings your legs up to his lap to pull off your jeans completely, Seonghwa's movements become all the more reckless and all the more urgent.

“All the same,” he murmurs before kneeling on the floor in front of you, “You conformists are all the fucking same.” Your eyes flutter open, along with your mouth, and the very moment your gaze locks onto the spray painted flag, hanging above you, Seongwha pushes aside your underwear, immediately spearing your dripping cunt with his long fingers. You release a broken moan into the air and his smile has blossomed into a full-on lopsided, evil grin as he brings your knees up to frame his face.

“2 seconds,” he taunts, in between your chorus of broken moans going head-to-head with the sound of San’s sensational belting, “it took me 2 seconds to have you humping my hand like a pretty fucking slut-”

Despite the pleasure coursing through your body, you still manage to keep your teeth clenched as you murmur, “You're the one… fuck… you're the one kneeling in front of me like my personal whore-”

Seonghwa's eyebrows raise, and his eyes glint in excitement at your taunting. He prided himself on being someone who could take as much as he gave out, and you're doing a terrific job at holding his attention when so many other people fell short.

You were interesting, of that, Seonghwa was sure.

“You make me want you so bad, Dove,” he admits before swiping his other hand over his stiffening bulge to the rhythm of his hand pushing in and out of your cunt.

“You drive me fucking crazy-”

“You're already crazy- fuck, just like that! Please don't stop-” your clenching around his fingers, eyes locked on his wide, excited eyes and his close lipped smile as brings his other hand to swipe over your clit.

The very second his calluses make contact with your swollen, puffy clit, you're cumming around his fingers. San’s vocal rages and your screams pour out as you fight to keep your eyes open. Seonghwa's fingers are still pushing into you relentlessly, and your heart sinks when you realise the seat underneath you is drenched with your arousal.

Seonghwa's mind is flooded with the image of you squirting so shamelessly around his fingers. Seeing you give yourself over to him so seamlessly made him feel absolutely restless with arousal, and he's pushing you down onto the couch before you're able to fill the air with idle protests.

His clothes suddenly feel too constricting and he curses the black corset as he wrestles with the buttons of his collar. He does not care that the buttons are flying onto the floor because he is clambouring onto the couch and hovering over you as he slots his hips in between your open legs.

“I need you to make a mess for me,” he whispers, before pulling his collar open, showcasing a patch of his tanned chest to your wide eyes. You unbuttoned your own shirt at the very same time that Seonghwa pulls down the zip of his pants, and he nearly whines at the sight of your breasts spilling out of your top. You are using him just as much as he is using you.

“Just like that, baby,” He nods, forcing his cock deep inside you as you begin to tweak your own nipples to stave off the discomfort of being stretched open so completely.

“F-Fuck- Seonghwa…” He is still nodding as he bends down towards you. Strands of his black hair tickle your face as he positions his hands on the side of your head and ruts into you with urgency. “I don't think I can take it-”

“You're already taking it so well, Baby.” He coos, as he forces his cock deeper and deeper into your clenching walls.

“You're taking everything I have to give and you're doing it flawlessly,” his praises are like that fashioned from a poet and the sheer artistry behind mere words have your head flying backwards as you release a torrid moan into the air.

“Where are you going?” He asks with a breathless laugh as he brings your head back by the grip of your throat. He is driving his cock inside you, his own frills spilling over your skin as he chokes you relentlessly.

Seonghwa is the very sight of violent beauty: hair mussed with his collar completely undone. His corset is still fashioned around his waist but it succeeds in tightening his abdomen, bringing him closer to the edge as the torrid sounds of your fucking fills the air.

"Fuck I'm close,” He grunts with his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his skull. "Tell me you hate me-" he whispers.

"I hate you," you moan out. "I hate you so fucking much-" It fell from your lips so easily because it is the God honest truth. Despite the spell he currently has you under, in the eyes of your aspirations, and everything you've ever worked hard for, you hated him and people like him. People who threatened to dismantle the progress lawmakers have strived to protect. And so, with your orgasm crwsting and your toes clenching, you whisper those words over and over to him. And every time to tell him you hate him, he chokes you harder and fucks you deeper.

"F-Fuck- 'Hwa I'm-" he nods, eyes now incredibly pained as he drives his cock into you with no chance of stopping.

"Cum for me," His whisper has you reading a broken moan into the air and Seonghwa watches as you descend into the depths of your euphoria.

"Gorgeous-" He exclaims through clenched teeth as his own hips begin to stutter, "You're so fucking gorgeous-" He whimpers before spilling inside you.

You're both moaning into the air, at the very same time that Choi San appears at the threshold.

"You work fast," San says languidly. He shifts his gaze from your horror-stricken gaze to Seonghwa who stares at his accomplice with a smirk on his face.

"I work smarter," Seonghwa says, "not harder." You're very much aware that he is still very much inside of you in front of a complete stranger but that panic dissipates when you realize Seonghwa, himself, is nothing but a stranger...

"The police is not gonna be a problem for us anymore, right?" He asks sweetly before dipping his head down in between the crook of your neck. You are starkly aware that your silence is answer enough...

Req - Something about Shotaro? Oh my god anything, your writing is just so????;!!;?$3

Maybe some smut on the toxic-ish side about how he appeals to be a loving boyfriend to your friends but behind closed doors he’s a lot more intimidating/manipulative, but you’re still just so weak for him (maybe even more so because of it???) and just can’t control yourself around him. Idk, I’m literally clueless but I just know I need that immaculate brain of yours combined with Taro!!!

Much love, and Happy New Year!!!

A/n: I'm not gonna lie... This took a good chunk of my sanity trying to write, I can only hope that you like it. Also happy new yearrr

𝗣𝗶𝗰𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗣𝗲𝗿𝗳𝗲𝗰𝘁

Osaki Shotaro x Fem!Reader

Summary: Shotaro is your golden retriever boyfriend... until he isn't

Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Jealousy, Best friend!Sohee, Possessiveness, Slight Dark fic, Toxic!Relationship, Manipulation, Smut (+18) Dom!Shotaro, Fingering, Grinding, Choking, Teasing

Your shoulders are as rigid as two metal cinder blocks, keeping your head from rolling off onto the floor. Barbed wires twist with anxiety in the pit of your stomach because you know, despite the sunshine disposition, despite the smile, despite the glassy doe eyes, Shotaro is pissed, and he definitely wants you to know about it.

“I swear on my unborn child,” Sohee, your best friend (your best guy friend) exclaims over a mouthful of ramen, “Yours is the only man I'd ever let cook for me. The rest of the male population can choke.”

While Shotaro basks in Sohee's praises with a modest sunshine smile, you sigh under the pressure of your boyfriend's grip on your thigh as you swiftly say, “You're quite literally a member of said male population-”

Sohee lowers his chopsticks before assuming a vaguely threatening stance with his cheeks round and stuffed. “Begrudgingly,” he says, “Not by choice.” You do not laugh but you try to.

Sohee bounces up and down in his seat, seemingly oblivious to your nervousness and Shotaro's skillfully hidden vexation.

“This is why I needed you two to end up together.” Says Sohee, swinging his head towards you. “My Golden Retriever best friend,” he swings his head towards Shotaro, “And my Golden Retriever coworker-”

“It's getting late, Sohee-” Shotaro's voice is calm and his head is still tilted as he says, “Should I call your uber?” You gulp silently as Shotaro's hand rubs up and down your thigh in a dizzying motion.

“Not very Golden Retriever of you,” Sohee grumbles before slurping down the last of his soup, “But that's okay because you're perfect in everything else-”

“Are you trying to steal my boyfriend, Sohee?” You hope cracking a joke might alleviate some of the one sided tension only you seem to be aware of.

Despite the smile, Shotaro is having a very difficult time remaining patient, especially because he had plans. Before Sohee had hijacked your attention, Shotaro would venture to say that he was actually somewhat happy at the start of the evening… before he found himself sharing your time with your over exuberant best friend.

There was a lively, almost vibrant pep in his step when he got off work, despite the tiredness in his muscles. As Shotaro made his way down the corridor towards your apartment door, his head was bowed with his eyes glued on his phone.

Your whimpers resounded in the clarity of his headphones. He watched you cum around his fingers, absolutely transfixed- so transfixed he almost doesn't recognize movement in his periphery right when he reaches your front door.

Far too swiftly, Shotaro plastered a smile on his face as he paused the video, dropped his phone into his pocket and lowered his headphones before bowing to your elderly next door neighbour.

He muttered a polite “안녕하세요,” in greeting, and the tiny old woman responded just as amicably.

She, as well as every other person in your life is absolutely floored by his politeness.

“What a nice young man,” she said, as she continued her way down the corridor, leaving Shotaro chuckling to himself because the thoughts he was having were certainly kilometres off on what a nice young man should be thinking.

He could not help that he had been thinking about you the whole day. Not even just sexually. (Although he did miss your body terribly. Shotaro was absolutely obsessed with the way it worked: You were always so unmistakably pliant for him. Like clay). Even simply being this close to your space made his heart overblown with satisfaction. Your house had always been somewhat of a safety enclosure for him. His own little piece of peace away from the outside world.

As he inserted the password and turned the knob, Shotaro imagined how you'd be waiting for him after work by the door like you usually did. Swimming in his oversized shirt as you stood with your arms opened wide.

None of those things happened.

Shotaro trudged into your house, sweaty and physically defeated from another day of exerting himself with rigorous routine. The thought of melting into your arms had been the only thing keeping him vaguely upright, when all he wanted to do was collapse on a pile on the floor.

As he proceeded to kick his sneakers off at the door, Shotaro’s brain nearly short circuitrd at the sight of you standing before him… fully dressed.

Not for any reason beside the fact that he had hoped to find you dressed comfortably enough to touch each other while you both cuddled lazily on the couch.

He was not being unreasonable in his expectations.

“Are we supposed to be going somewhere?” Shotaro asked quizzically with his doe eyes widened in cute curiosity. He eyed your halter neck and maxi skirt with much discontent.

“Oh good! You're home! I actually have something to-” Before the words could escape your mouth, he immediately enclosed you in a hug that you drowned in.

“Missed you so much,” he murmured before splaying various sloppy kisses on the side of your face, “Couldn't stop thinking about you the whole day… your face-” A kiss, “Your mouth-” another kiss, “your boobs-”

“Taro, I have to tell you som-”

“God, I hate people!” he exclaimed above you with his arms falling to your hips.

“I shouldn't have to remind you that I count as people.” You jest in vague nervousness.

“When I say I hate people, never ever, do I mean you,” he whispered above you before patting your head down as if you were, less his human girlfriend and more something that went about its life on four legs.

“Do I count as people?”

Your shoulders stiffened and Shotaro's arms grew rigid as his head snapped up to look at your best friend- his co-worker.

Sohee makes his introduction behind you in the same outfit Shotaro saw him in at dance practice and he waved lightly.

Shotaro's shoulders sag infinitesimally but that smile on his face is all too permanent.

Sohee spinned around before mumbling, “Also I'd appreciate it if you two didn't hump each other out in the open for my viewing pleasure.”

Instead of actually feeling compelled to eat you now sit idly at the dinner table, picking and prodding at the ramen Shotaro has prepared for you all.

Your boyfriend's irritation is subtle and you could definitely miss it in the brightness of his overall countenance.

“I mean, it's not that I don't wanna be in a relationship- it's just that, seeing you two has inspired me… I guess you could say?” If it weren't for Shotaro's hand on your thigh you might have actually listened to the countless praises he dotes on Shotaro.

Praises about how good of a man he is. How perfect he is. How absolutely wonderful he must be for being able to put up with you.

All through the dinner, Sohee talks and talks, and you sit with your fingers curled around the end of the table, trying to stop yourself from not reacting to your boyfriend’s minstritations.

It is only when the dinner ends, and Shotaro escorts Sohee to the door, that you finally feel the first real signs of anxiety begin to solidify in your gut.

You're trying your best to load the plates into the dishwasher with a steady hand when you feel a daunting presence behind you. Evading eye contact, you swiftly and succinctly say, “I'm sorry. He had no where else to go-”

“He has a house. Try again.”

You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut at the coldness in his voice.

“He's my best friend, Shotaro,” you say with finality before straightening your spine and turning to face him. You’re both pressed on opposite ends of the kitchen. Both with your arms folded.

“I don't really like your friends.” He says.

“I don't think my friends should be your problem, is what I'm saying.” You clarify. “And anyway, I thought you’d like the fact that Sohee’s my friend.”

Shotaro Scoffs as he says, “I'd like it more if he didn't try to inject himself into our relationship, babe.” Shotaro's voice is incredibly calm, but his words are aimed like an arrow doused in poison, as he closes the distance between you two. Your attention is fixed on him as he lifts his hand to trace small lines on your exposed collar, and you nearly fight the urge to make your eyes flutter shut.

“Not to sound like a tired fucking cliche but, I'm just thinking about what's best for you-” That snaps you out of it.

“What's best for me or what's best for you?!" You exclaim before slapping his hand away.

If only you knew how badly that particular passive-aggressive action affected him. Shotaro crowds you against the counter as he pushes his front up against yours until he's quite literally peering down at you. You refuse to crane your neck back and look up at him.

He was being ridiculous.

“I'm not choosing between you or my friends, Taro-”

“You're so pretty, you know that?” His completey-out-of-left-field comment, especially layered with that sweet-as-honey voice of his, shoots straight to your core, and you grab the counter behind you for support. “And smart too,” he says, before trailing his hand down your arm, eliciting a trail of goosebumps in his wake. Shotaro’s touch is not only sensual, but its molten fucking lava and it nearly has you melting into a puddle on the floor.

“So I trust you to make your own decisions.” He says, nodding with cute finality before lifting your face up by your chin.

“Taro…” Your heart resorts to frenzy, and your head flies backward when Shotaro drifts his fingers past the seams of your maxi skirt. His are fingers- quite literally making their descent down your underwear while you remain too dumb to do anything but say: “I-I knew Sohee before I knew you.”

He only pushes up against you further, letting his hand grip the side of your neck. “You really think now is a good time to throw that in my face?” He asked with a tilt of his head and his hand now sliding over your cunt.

“You're not wet,” he whispers, “Why aren't you wet?” Before you're ever able able to answer, Shotaro drops to his knees before picking up the ends of your billowing skirt and disappearing underneath the fabric. A torrid gasp escapes your throat when his warm breath skates over your cunt and you're once again throwing your head back in absolute ecstasy.

He pokes his head up from underneath your skirt, cute smile on display while his fingers massage your aching clit. “You're always so wet for me, baby," he says with a childish frown, "What's the matter, huh?” He tilts his head again. “Is it your friend?”

He asks casually, as if his middle finger was not easing its way past your entrance … as if he his fingers were not already drenched in your arousal in less than a minute. “Fuck, Shotaro-”

“Is it because of him?” He continues to ask, now fully moving his fingers in and out of yoy while he remained on his knees- gaze never once wavering. “I'm sorry, bunny,” He says with faux concern, “I didn't know Sohee meant so much to you!”

“F-Fuck Taro-”

At the sound of his name, Shotaro's other hand grips your thigh, only opening your legs wider to split you all the way open against his fingers rough minstriations. He alternates between his middle and index. Sometimes splitting you open with both, until you were thoroughly bucking forward, to the pace that he had set and you were chasing your own orgasm furiously.

“You look like you're gonna cum for me, baby!” He exclaims with big bright eyes and a wide open smile. Equal parts adorable and completely fucking manic.

“Ask me to cum,” he whispers, still looking up at you like you were the best toy he could've ever hope to get. “I control your body. I control every part of you.” He says, “So ask me-”

“Please, Taro!- P-Please can I come?” Your hands have long ago found purchase in his blonde locks and you squeeze your eyes shut, bucking into him at a frenzied pace.

“Look at how pretty you are when you're following orders!” He exclaims as if you truly were a child. “So pretty,” he’s absolutely mesmerising, “My pretty girl gets to cum all over my fingers-”

You've already jumped off the cliff, letting your hips stutter as your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Shotaro's eyes appear almost pained by the sight in front of him. How easily you break for him. Whenever he wanted. You truly were in control of his entire being.

“G-God-” Your failed attempt at talking brings a wave of warmth over Shotaro's countenance, and he finds himself pleasantly satisfied once again. He lifts himself up to his full height.

“what a gorgeous girl,” he whispers before pushing his forehead against yours, “My gorgeous girl,” he murmurs before sliding his fingers - the fingers that were once inside you- past your trembling lips.

"Shit I forgot we broke up last night"

BYE SIR BYEEEE lmaolmaolmao

pairing: jongseob x reader

genre: fluff, crack (maybe)

warning(s): language

note: requested by @jongseobieoppaiscute, i'm sorry i took too long to get to this but here it is, ask and i shall deliver <33

also i found a lot of these online and remixed them a little, i will not take credit for everything.