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[obsession4uu]

On the Silver Screen

CW: m!dom x f!reader, dead dove do not eat, noncon, unprotected sex, voyeurism/exhibitionism, filming, oral (f!receiving), breathplay, psychological, physical violence, degradation Word Count: 5.9k

There were a lot of dreams America tried to sell you as a kid. Nuclear families, entrepreneurship, creative freedom—the land of opportunity, they called it.

And when you were younger, you believed it. You carried that naive little hope that maybe one day, you’d make something of yourself too. So after graduating high school, you moved to a small city outside Los Angeles to chase your dream of becoming an actress.

It wasn’t glamorous. Your cramped basement room seemed to attract a new bug every day, the water pressure barely deserved to be called running water, and your housemates were almost unbearable.

Still, you told yourself it would all be worth it once you got your big break.

Over the years, you picked up small roles here and there—extras, supporting characters, and most recently, the lead in a low-budget indie short film. You hadn’t found real success yet, but you were getting closer. Slowly, painfully, but closer all the same.

That hope was what brought you to another casting call today, one your agent had eagerly signed you up for. Pretty girls were called in one by one to read for the role of a daughter in some found-footage horror film. By now, the waiting room was nearly empty. You sat near a dim hallway connected to the back entrance, an occasional draft brushing against your skin whenever a staff member came through.

Then the audition room door opened.

A man around your age stepped out, walking quickly down the hallway with a phone pressed to his ear.

“Baby, I know,” he muttered under his breath. “I know you want the role, but you gotta understand—my dad would be down my throat if I didn’t still host a casting call. Says it’s bad press.”

Recognition hit almost instantly.

Ivan Cisneros, son of acclaimed director Gabriel Cisneros. He’d gone viral years ago for his dark and brooding looks. These days, he was known for directing large-scale indie films, with tabloids constantly praising his “raw artistic talent” despite the obvious nepotism behind his rise.

To be fair, his films were good. Beautiful framing, sharp artistic direction—he clearly had an eye for it.

“Baby, just give me some time. Hop off my dick for a second, yeah? Didn’t I say I’d handle it?” Ivan said, irritation creeping into his voice.

Disappointment settled heavily in your chest. Another wasted day leaving work early for an audition that had already been decided before anyone stepped into the room.

Must be nice, you thought bitterly, to be born into success.

On his way back, his eyes met yours.

You both knew you’d overheard everything.

For a moment, he slowed. His gaze drifted over your face, down your body for only a second before returning to your eyes again. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Ahem.”

A woman in her fifties stood in the audition room doorway. Both you and Ivan looked toward her, though her attention stayed fixed on him.

“You okay to come back now?” she asked.

“Yeah, my bad. Emergency,” he replied smoothly before slipping back inside.

Then her eyes shifted to you.

“Last one, huh?”

You offered a weak smile and nodded.

“Come on in.”

You played the role exactly the way you’d practiced it countless times in your bedroom, delivering each line the same way your sister had helped you rehearse them over late-night calls.

“Please! No! Oh God—somebody help!” you screamed, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your body trembled with carefully imitated fear.

In the middle of the scene, your eyes flickered toward Ivan Cisneros. He watched you through the camera recording your audition, though somehow it still felt like he was looking directly at you.

“Thank you so much,” the older woman said warmly once the scene ended. “That was amazing. You’ll hear back about our final decision soon.”

‘Yeah, right,’ you thought. Wonder who they already picked.

Still, you smiled politely, thanking them for their time and consideration before making your way out of the room.

Cold rain tapped steadily against your car as you made the long drive home. Music drifted softly through the radio speakers; your aux cord had stopped working months ago, but you’d never bothered replacing it.

“Ah, gotta love a classic Britney song!” one of the radio hosts said enthusiastically.

“Yup. Love her or hate her, she definitely made Hollywood gossip more entertaining,” the other replied.

“That’s right— but you know our Morning Hollywood Highlights always brings the craziest insider stories.”

They laughed together before transitioning into the next song.

At home and lying across your twin bed, you absentmindedly kicked your legs while scrolling through your schedule for the next few weeks.

God, you really wanted that audition.

You’d always dreamed of starring in a horror movie. More than that, though, you wanted to be part of something successful. Something people would actually remember.

Still, there’d always be another audition. Another chance.

Your phone buzzed with an incoming video call from your sister, Marisol.

“Hello, hellooo!” she greeted brightly the second you answered, making you smile despite yourself. She had the phone balanced in front of your childhood dog, Max. His scruffy fur had long since turned gray with age, but the spark in his eyes was still the same.

“Maxxy-boy here,” she continued in an exaggerated deep voice. “I’ve come to report on our latest breaking news: the audition. Tell me, miss, how’d it go?”

You laughed softly. “It was… okay.”

“What?” She immediately dropped the bit, pulling the phone back toward herself. “But you killed it during practice. What happened?”

You picked at your fingernails, avoiding your reflection on the screen. “The director has a nepo girlfriend. I overheard him basically promise her the role over the phone.”

She let out a sigh of her own. “Damn.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then she straightened up again. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re in LA. There are, like, a million pretentious filmmakers dying to cast someone exactly like you.”

You tried to smile back, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. 

You didn’t even live in LA.

The two of you kept talking after that, falling into your usual rhythm—small updates, stupid jokes, stories from home—until eventually you said your goodnights and hung up.

Singing along to another pop song floating from the radio, you stifled a yawn as you drove to work a few days later. 

Your eyes burned with exhaustion as you silently cursed yourself for staying up so late talking to your sister. Somewhere between the second red light and another sip of stale water from the bottle rolling around your passenger seat, you realized you needed coffee. Badly.

The little tiendita you passed almost every morning drifted into your mind. You’d never actually gone inside before, but after glancing at the time glowing on your dashboard, you realized you had enough time to spare.

Why not?

You pulled onto one of the narrow side streets and carefully parallel parked between two aging cars before stepping out into the cool morning air.

The bell above the door jingled softly as you entered the corner store. Warm smells immediately wrapped around you— fresh bread, brewed coffee, deli meat, sugar. Your eyes wandered over the aisles before settling on the glass display filled with pan dulces.

“One concha and a latte, please,” you ordered.

The woman behind the counter smiled. “One second, mija. We’ll warm up the concha for you.”

You nodded and wandered through the aisles while you waited, vacantly scanning labels you had no intention of buying.

RING RING RING

A morning call from your agent caught you off guard. 

“Hey, you might have another audition this Wednesday, do you think you can make it?” You snorted. 

“I don’t know girl, last time I had to read for a dumb fucking nepo baby director who gave the role to his girlfriend.” 

You picked up a bag of Sour Patch Kids, inspecting it before placing it back.

“Are you really sure I have a shot at this one? Because my boss will kill me if I take another day off.”

Then you heard someone getting scolded near the register.

“Hey! You can’t smoke in here!”

Your agent said something and then ended the call but you weren’t paying attention anymore.

“Yeah, yeah,” a man laughed easily. “Just hurry up and give me my sandwich, viejón.”

Your steps slowed immediately. You knew that voice.

Looking up, you spotted Ivan Cisneros leaning lazily over the counter with a cigarette hanging from his mouth like he didn’t have a single real responsibility in the world.

“Don’t piss me off, pendejo,” the older owner shot back, though the amusement in his voice softened the insult.

“I’ll call you when it’s done. Go outside before you trigger my smoke alarm.”

Ivan grinned and lifted his hands in surrender before turning toward the door.

On his way out, his eyes caught yours.

For half a second, recognition flickered across his face.

Then he disappeared outside.

A moment later, your latte and warmed concha were slid across the counter toward you. You thanked the cashier quietly before heading back outside yourself.

The morning air felt colder after the warmth of the store.

“Hey.”

You startled slightly at the sound of Ivan’s voice.

He stood a few feet away near the curb, cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers.

“Hey,” you replied carefully.

His gaze dipped toward the coffee and pastry in your hands before lifting back to your face again. He took a slow drag from his cigarette.

“You look rough.”

You snorted before you could stop yourself. “You do too.”

That earned a laugh out of him— low and surprisingly genuine.

“You live near here?” he asked.

You raised an eyebrow immediately. “I don’t think I should tell you that.”

“Fair.” His mouth twitched slightly.

Smoke curled into the cold air between you both.

“This is where we’re thinking of filming the movie,” he said after a moment. “Has a better atmosphere than LA, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” you lied. “I guess.”

In reality, all you could picture was your damp basement room and the mildew smell trapped in the walls.

Ivan laughed softly, like he could hear the lie anyway.

“If you lie like that during auditions, I might have to call you a bad actor.”

He stepped a little closer then, close enough for the scent of tobacco and expensive cologne to settle around you. When he exhaled this time, the cigarette smoke brushed across your face.

You should’ve hated it.

Instead, the warm spice of it settled strangely pleasantly in your lungs.

“I hate watching actors when I can tell they’re faking it,” he said quietly.

Your eyes narrowed slightly, unease settling in your stomach as you looked at the man in front of you. After another awkward beat of conversation, you finally excused yourself with a quick wish of good luck on the movie before heading off to work.

“Wait— so you just randomly met him in your city?” Marisol repeated over a video call later that afternoon.

“Yeah. He was, like, weirdly friendly with the owners too.”

“Huh.” She adjusted the camera slightly. “And he talked to you? Doesn’t that mean your audition was memorable?”

You laughed quietly to yourself as you stood from your breakroom chair and retied your apron now that your lunch break was almost over.

“Being memorable doesn’t pay the bills,” you said. “Getting the role does.”

Picking up your phone, you stepped back into frame just as Marisol started her habit of fiddling with her teacher lanyard.

“Hey, my break’s over,” you told her. “I’ll call you when I’m done working, okay?”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

The call ended, your screen returning to the home page.

Without really thinking about it, your thumb tapped open Google.

You typed in:

Hollywood Highlights Ivan Cisneros

Almost instantly, article after article filled your screen.

IVAN REVEALS MORE ABOUT HIS JUNIOR DIRECTORIAL PROJECT

IVAN CISNEROS SPOTTED AT COACHELLA WITH SINGER/ACTRESS GIRLFRIEND SERAPHINA

NEPO BABY WITH REAL TALENT?? INSIDE IVAN CISNEROS’ RISE IN HOLLYWOOD

You kept scrolling.

Interview clips. Red carpets. Paparazzi photos. Think pieces dissecting his talent, his family, his relationships.

And for some reason, you kept reading.

“Hey!”

Your manager’s voice startled you hard enough to make you nearly drop your phone.

“Didn’t your lunch break end like six minutes ago? Get back out there.”

“Sorry, ma’am,” you muttered quickly, shoving your phone into your apron pocket before hurrying back to the front.

Patting your damp hair dry with a towel, you collapsed onto your bed with a long, exhausted sigh. The hot shower hadn’t done much to ease the ache in your body, but at least you smelled better than grease and fries now.

Your eyes drifted toward the laptop sitting untouched on your dresser.

With a quiet groan, you forced yourself back up and shuffled over to it.

The name you couldn’t get off your mind was typed into the search bar with strange ease. 

Ivan Cisneros

The same articles from your lunch break the other day resurfaced almost immediately.

Interviews. Red carpets. Festival appearances.

But one headline near the top caught your attention instantly.

“I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF LA GIRLS” IVAN CISNEROS SAYS AFTER ALLEGED BREAKUP???

You sat up a little straighter before clicking on it.

A paparazzi photo filled the screen immediately. Ivan is seen walking hand-in-hand with a woman outside some expensive-looking building. Even through the grainy quality, they looked polished. Effortless. The kind of couple magazines loved.

You skimmed the article.

A reliable source claims that Ivan and Seraphina have officially called it quits after the young director was allegedly overheard saying he was “tired of LA girls.”

Fans also noticed the pair have unfollowed each other across all social media platforms. Seraphina reportedly deleted the viral birthday post that first confirmed their relationship back in May.

The rumored breakup comes while the singer teases a new “love-themed” single, along with speculation surrounding a possible appearance in Ivan’s upcoming film. Another reminder to never mix business with pleasure!

You stared at the screen a little longer than you meant to, a quiet spark of hope settling in your chest. 

Maybe you were right to be hopeful, because the very next day, your agent called you practically screaming.

“You got the role!”

For a second, you couldn’t breathe. Then suddenly you were on your feet, laughing in disbelief as you bounced around the breakroom. Your server book slipped from your apron pocket and hit the floor, but you barely noticed.

You got it.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of fittings, production meetings, late-night emails, and script revisions. It was overwhelming, exhausting, and everything you’d wanted for years.

Today was the final table read before filming officially started, this time it was in person.

You were nervous, obviously, but beneath that was excitement sharp enough to keep your stomach in knots the entire drive there.

“Good morning,” you greeted brightly as you stepped into the rented rehearsal space.

You set your bag down quietly and glanced around the room. Most of the cast and crew were already there, chatting comfortably amongst themselves. Everyone looked polished in that effortless industry way—expensive basics, perfect hair, relaxed confidence.

Your gaze dropped briefly to your own too-cozy outfit.

Maybe comfort had been the wrong choice.

“Let’s wait for Ivan before we start, okay?” the casting director from your audition said with an easy smile.

Fifteen long minutes passed before the door finally opened.

Ivan walked in wearing a fitted leather jacket, dark sunglasses, and carrying a coffee that definitely wasn’t from the tiendita.

A flicker of annoyance rose in your chest.

You’d dragged yourself out of bed at five in the morning just to beat traffic, and he still showed up late looking perfectly put together, like time bent around him instead of the other way around.

You tried to push the feeling down, but then you caught the slight curve of his mouth.

Even behind the tinted lenses, you knew he was looking at you.

The table read began soon after.

“M-my dad?” you choked out. “No… no, no—NO!”

Your voice cracked into a scream, tears burning your eyes as the scene ended.

For a moment, the room went quiet.

Then Brayden started clapping.

“That was incredible,” he said, grinning at you. “Seriously, you killed that scream.”

A few others joined in, murmuring agreement, and warmth spread through your chest at the praise.

But across the table, Ivan sat with his arms crossed, expression flat.

“Yeah,” he said finally, his voice enough to quiet the room almost instantly.

“You can scream. You can be loud.” His gaze lifted to yours. “That part’s easy.”

The warmth in your chest faded slightly.

“What’s interesting,” he continued, leaning forward a little, “is when you let yourself look frustrated. Helpless. Cornered.”

His eyes stayed fixed on yours.

“I want to see more of that.”

The first day of filming arrived faster than you expected.

Crew members moved hurriedly around the set while lights were adjusted overhead and equipment rolled across the floors. Near craft services, you spotted Brayden pouring himself coffee from one of the large insulated cartons.

“Ready for day one?” you asked, grabbing a cup for yourself.

“Honestly?” Brayden laughed softly while tearing open a sugar packet. “I’ve been doing this since I was, like, eight. At this point it kinda just feels like another Tuesday.”

Right. Child actor. Of course he wasn’t nervous.

He stirred his coffee absentmindedly before glancing over at you again.

“You know, people were pretty surprised Ivan pushed for you.”

Your eyebrows pulled together.

Brayden noticed immediately and lifted a hand. “Not in a bad way,” he added quickly. “You’re perfect for the role. It’s just… he usually doesn’t cast unknowns.”

Before you could respond, someone called both of your names from across the set.

You and Brayden walked over to where Ivan stood beside a few producers.

“We’re adding a makeout scene between you two,” Ivan said plainly.

Your head snapped up. “What?”

“We talked it over,” he continued. “The relationship needs to feel more believable early on. It’ll strengthen the body autonomy horror elements later.”

“Body autonomy horror?” you repeated slowly.

None of this had been mentioned before.

“Yeah.” Ivan’s tone stayed even, but his eyes narrowed slightly as they met yours. “Is there a problem?”

Your pulse thudded unevenly. You wanted to say yes.

You wanted to point out that this hadn’t been discussed, that nobody had warned you, that you weren’t prepared.

But Brayden’s words echoed in your head.

Ivan pushed for you. He chose you.

You looked back at him and gave a small nod.

Your hands shook faintly around the paper coffee cup, but Ivan only smiled a little, like your answer had confirmed something for him.

When it came time to shoot the scene, you tried your best to follow his directions.

“Hold her face gently,” Ivan called from behind the camera. “Remember, the curse is trying to convince her you’re still normal. It wants her comfortable enough to stay. Closer.”

You tried to steady your breathing.

The set suddenly felt too crowded, too warm. Crew members moved quietly around the room while lights burned overhead, all of them watching a scene that was somehow supposed to look private.

Brayden knelt over you on the bed, shirtless and close enough that you could still smell the coffee on his breath from earlier that morning. You focused hard on keeping your expression soft, relaxed, believable.

In love.

His hand cupped your cheek carefully before he leaned down to kiss you. It was gentle. Professional. His lips brushed your cheek first before finding yours, slow and cautious like he was trying not to make you uncomfortable.

But something about it still felt wrong.

You’d never had to fake intimacy before.

You knew scenes like this came with acting, of course you did, but somewhere deep down, you’d imagined you would at least feel prepared when the time came.

Or that you’d have some choice in it.

“No,” Ivan interrupted sharply.

Brayden pulled away immediately.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Confused, you looked toward Brayden, only to realize his attention was shifted to you.

And when you glanced up, Ivan was staring directly at you too.

“Why do you look scared?” he asked evenly. “It’s not time for that yet.”

Your heartbeat stumbled.

“I’m sorry,” you said quickly, heat rushing to your face.

But Ivan was already moving.

He called something over his shoulder to the crew about adjusting the camera, though the words barely registered. Your attention locked entirely onto him as he approached the bed.

Then, without hesitation, he took Brayden’s place.

Your breath caught.

Ivan knelt over you, one hand sliding against your jaw while the other settled against your cheek. His touch wasn’t rough, but it was firm enough that you immediately understood he expected you to stay still.

And then he kissed you.

Not cautiously.

Not professionally.

His mouth crashed against yours with startling intensity, all heat and pressure and emotion sharp enough to leave you momentarily frozen beneath him.

Everyone else was still standing around the set.

Watching.

Your eyes shut instinctively as you tried to push through the panic rising in your chest and stay in character anyway.

“Act like you like it,” he muttered against your ear.

The words sent a chill down your spine.

So you forced yourself to respond.

You kissed him back uncertainly at first, then harder when you felt his hand tighten slightly against your jaw. Your fingers slid against his chest, trying desperately to match the energy he wanted from you, trying to keep up with whatever this was supposed to be.

Then suddenly, he pulled away.

The loss of contact left you disoriented.

For a second, all you could do was stare up at him, confused and breathless, while the entire set sat in stunned silence around you.

“That was better, yeah,” the crew member confirmed to Ivan. He glanced over at you, an eerie glint of excitement in his eyes.

You wanted to say something, to tell him it wasn’t right. But there he was above you. Higher than you in every way possible, what could you possibly say?

You and Brayden reshot the scene several more times before Ivan finally moved production along.

The rest of the day passed in fragments—touch-ups in the makeup chair, wardrobe adjustments, waiting under hot lights while crew members rearranged equipment between takes.

By the time filming wrapped, exhaustion sat heavy in your bones. The drive home was quiet. You didn’t even bother turning on the radio.

Your mind kept replaying the moment Ivan had kissed you instead of Brayden. The intensity of it. The way the entire room had gone silent afterward. The way he’d spoken to you like the scene belonged more to him than either of the actors actually in it.

You told yourself not to overthink it. Directors were weird. Artistic. Intense.

That had to be all it was. Besides, who would you have talked to? They were all his team. 

The second day of shooting began badly.

It was a horror scene between you and your “father,” and no matter what you tried, you couldn’t get it right.

“Again,” Ivan called out, his frustration cutting cleanly through the room.

You’d already lost count— twenty takes, maybe more. Each time, he had another note. Your eyes were too flat. Your mouth too tight. Your hands in the wrong place. Your posture too certain, too loose, too wrong. Nothing seemed to match whatever version he had in his head.

“What? What is it now?” you snapped before you could stop yourself.

The room shifted.

Ivan looked up slowly from his seat. The silence that followed felt immediate, heavy. You almost wished you could take the words back before they fully landed.

It wasn’t meant like that. You were exhausted, running on repetition and dwindling patience.

He stood.

The chair scraped softly against the floor as he rose, and the small movement seemed to change the air itself. When he reached you, he didn’t hurry. He didn’t need to.

Up close, his presence was disorienting— steady, controlled, uncomfortably sure of itself.

“You’re the one who can’t seem to act correctly,” he said evenly. “You call that scared? It’s not convincing. It’s a joke.”

Heat rose in your chest, sharp and immediate anger. But it caught in your throat before it could turn into anything useful. You forced it down.

“Yes, sir,” you said instead, voice tight. “I’m sorry. I’ll do better.”

Something unreadable flickered across his face. Then he turned without responding, returning to his place behind the camera as if nothing had happened at all.

The evening was spent filming scenes inside your character’s bedroom set. The faded posters, cluttered shelves, and soft pink bedding reminded you so much of your real bedroom back home that it almost made you smile.

For a little while, things felt normal again.

“That was perfect, you guys,” someone from the crew called out after another take. “Okay, we’re moving on to the intimacy scene now.”

Your smile faltered.

Intimacy scene?

You frowned toward Brayden instinctively, searching his face for some kind of explanation, but he only gave a small nod as the film slate snapped loudly between you both.

The sound made you jump.

Then Brayden moved toward you fast.

“What—”

The question barely left your mouth before he started backing you toward the bed.

Confusion spiked immediately into panic.

“What the fuck?” you hissed under your breath as your knees hit the mattress. “What’s going on?”

Brayden pushed you down onto the bed and climbed over you, trying to stay in character, but you could feel the hesitance in the way his hands hovered uncertainly against you.

Nobody had told you this scene continued.

Nobody had warned you.

You shoved at Brayden’s shoulders instinctively, but he didn’t move. Your eyes darted desperately toward the crew. Toward Ivan.

He only smiled back at you from behind the monitor.

“Cut.” 

Brayden pulled away immediately and you finally feel like you can breathe again. He looked almost guilty. 

“You two, stay,” his finger pointed at you both in an accusatory way. 

“Everyone else, take a break,” Ivan shouted out. “Now!” The entire crew hastily shuffled out in a few minutes.

Before you could even sit up properly, Ivan was already walking toward the bed.

“What’s—” Your voice came out smaller than you intended. “I don’t understand.”

“You keep going off-script,” Ivan said simply.

Then he pulled his shirt over his head.

Your stomach dropped.

He approached the bed slowly, his expression unreadable now, stripped of the teasing charm he usually carried around the set. There was something colder underneath it.

You tried to push yourself upright, but the second you moved, Ivan’s hand closed around your throat and shoved you back down against the mattress.

A sharp burst of fear shot through you.

Your hands flew to his wrist automatically, trying to pull him off, but his grip only tightened.

“You need to make her afraid of you,” Ivan explained casually, glancing toward Brayden like this was nothing more than another directing note. “At this point, the monster’s completely taken over.”

Brayden nodded nearby.

Your chest strained desperately for air.

Then, just as suddenly, Ivan let go.

You curled onto your side coughing violently, dragging shaky breaths back into your lungs while tears burned at the corners of your eyes.

Above you, Ivan remained perfectly calm.

He watched as you tried to relax the fear coursing through you and his eyes seemed to darken with a new cruel thought.

Ivan straightened you onto your back again, pushing your shirt up. You squirmed at the invasion. “Stop! What’s going on?” You tried to push again at him, but he just continued without faltering. 

His lips found your nipple, wetting it and rolling his tongue over and over it. You screamed, thrashed in the bed, but his hands held you down. 

Ivan stopped for a moment to look you in the eyes. 

“Yes, that’s right,” he said in a low voice. His gaze roamed over your expression, your watery eyes and wobbly lips. 

“You’re supposed to look scared now.”

His hand felt around your chest, kneading your breast before he sat up to look down at you. 

The sudden distance made you realize where you were again. You looked at Brayden for help, you had to show him this wasn’t apart of the script.

But that’s when you noticed it. His uncomfortable expression and strained eyes working hard to ignore you. He diligently watched Ivan and you, as if only there to take direction notes.

The mic remained steady above you as panel lights that now seemed too bright beat down on you. The lights left nowhere to hide.

No matter how uncomfortable you were, you barely had time to react before Ivan’s hands reached your waistband.

You gasped, trying to protect the last bits of your dignity.

His hand shoved in anyways, pressing into your clit through the fabric of your underwear, pulling a shriek out of you. Trying to pry his hand out, you kicked and shouted, but it was no use. Brayden stood by, watching, doing nothing.

You didn’t understand, why is this happening? Why won’t he help?

“Help me! Stop him,” you cried. 

Ivan laughed, almost with pity. 

“He’s not going to help you. How stupid are you?” Your eyes darted between Ivan’s and Brayden’s face, trying to find the unsaid answer they knew but you didn’t. 

Brayden finally broke.

“I’m sorry, but no sane person would risk getting blacklisted for someone like you,”

Someone like you. A nobody, lower class, unknown actress. He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to.

Your face twisted in shame, but you tried to plead with him again anyway. 

“Please... Brayden, please...”

Still, Brayden stayed frozen in place, looking at you with a mixture of feelings that you couldn’t even process yourself. Not with Ivan over you, suffocating you with the scent of tobacco and coffee.

Brayden backed away slowly making Ivan laugh at your helpless situation. The sound was like a knife to the gut.

Ivan began rubbing your clit, so quickly and roughly you couldn't help but writhe. Ivan hummed— clearly satisfied.

“How are you going to tell me to stop when I can feel your pussy getting wet.”

Tears now spilled freely from your building frustration and shame. 

“That’s not true,” you choked out. “I don’t want this!”

“What? Are you just acting then?”

You didn't know why, but you nodded. Maybe hoping that something else could take the blame for the embarrassing way your body was reacting.

This only made Ivan grin.

His fingers found their way around the side of your underwear, pulling it and the flimsy shorts the costume director dressed you in, to the side.

Then, he pushed his way into you. Two fingers curled inside you, making your back arch off of the mattress. He quickly began pumping in and out of you; the loud wet noises that echoed in the large warehouse made your face heat.

You couldn’t stop yourself, his fingers were so deep inside you, managing to massage you in a way that shot electric currents in you with each movement. Something started building in you, a pressure in your stomach that you couldn’t ignore. 

No no no no no no no.

You begged yourself, willed every part of you to let it out, but you felt so full of his thick fingers; massaging upward and making you feel like you’re going to burst. It was though any slight movement would push everything out of you and from the look on Ivan’s face, he knew it too. He took his palm and pushed down on your bladder, the pressure becoming overwhelming.

In an instant, he ripped his fingers out of you, and a gush of liquid came out with him. 

Silence engulfed the set as you felt the damp mattress underneath you, horrified at your own body. It was like you had no say in the matter, like what Ivan wanted from you was what he’d get.

“You can lie, but this tells me you’re not really acting, are you?” Pure joy is written across his face. He's taking so much enjoyment in the fact that your body is acting exactly how he willed it.

“Fuck you!” you shout through clenched teeth.

He looked amused at your anger, frustratingly so. Like every raw reaction only propelled him further.

Ivan then flipped you over, putting a large pillow under your stomach that prevented you from moving away. He’s so fast— you didn’t even have time to react. 

The weight of him on you took away your ability to move and strained your breathing. “I took a chance on you,” he whispered into your ear.

“Shouldn’t you be showing me your gratitude?”

He’s already pulling down your shorts before you knew it. 

“You’re a nobody. I’m Ivan Cisneros.”

His terrifying words felt more true in the fake bedroom.

The cold air was violating on your exposed skin. But it was even scarier when you felt his warm breath. So close to your most intimate area, you had to choke back sobs.

He licked a stripe up your cunt. You twitched and tried to jump away, but his hands were firm on your thighs. Ivan kept going like your struggle meant nothing, lapping at your clit before sucking up the arousal you produced. His tongue darted in and out of your entrance, massaging the opening with the soft and wet muscle. 

Simultaneously, his thumb moved to pinch your clit, after, rubbing circles that had you crying out. Your hands gripped the sheets trying to find relief, something to help you through Ivan’s relentless onslaught, but nothing worked.

You felt your orgasm building up, you wanted anything but that, still Ivan's movements ate away at your willpower in spite of your wishes.

He spat at your clit, the saliva allowing his thumb to only glide over you faster. The feeling inside you only grew tighter with each back and forth of his thumb. 

His tongue continued to massage your cunt, occasionally dipping to your clit to suck on and flick back and forth. Until eventually you snapped.

Your release pulled desperate moans from you as you clenched on nothing. You still thrashed uncontrollably as Ivan continued to lap at your clit. You shoved your face into the sheets, hoping to quiet the humiliating noises you were making. 

“I may be a nepo baby, but I’m still talented, aren’t I?”

You sobbed, tired and ashamed that you came from his touch. You didn’t even move when you heard the distinct unbuckling of a belt and unzipping of jeans. His tip worked itself into you easily. All slick covered and slippery, you had no chance of ever fighting back.

Brayden in your peripheral vision still watched expressionless, but you could see a tent in his pants that made your stomach twist.

Ivan thrusted into you brutally, like he was trying to teach you a lesson.

Remember your place—it seemed to say—beneath him, like a mindless fucktoy only good for her reactions. 

That’s when you noticed it, the blinking red light of the fancy camera Ivan always sat behind. A screen that mirrored the viewfinder was pointed towards you, allowing you to see everything that was unfolding. You were posed in such a humiliating way, everything showing like you weren’t even human anymore. Just entertainment for Ivan and whatever he wanted.

Ivan’s hand gripped your hair, like he knew exactly what you were looking at. 

“I hate casting unknowns, but God, do I love breaking them in.”

[obsession4uu]

"Read More" Anon here

Yesss the button works! Now you're an expert Tumblr user (^o^)／ /j

Yes, we probably do have very similar preferences ^^ Unfortunately I don't have ideas right now but I wanna thank you for being so open to my ideas (≧∇≦) I wasn't expecting that, it got me so excited! I already love many of the themes you have, the yanderes, the noncon, even multiple yanderes, the subtle degrada- whoops. Point is, it's hard to find a combination of all this so I was so happy when I found you!!

Looking forward to your writings! Could I ask for hints on any writings you're doing, if there are any? (๑´ڡ`๑) Apart from the pt2s

LMFAO ikkkk i felt like such a new gen tumblr user asking 😭😭😭

Currently, I’m in the final stretch for Best Friends Pt. 2 and also working on 2 other stories!! One is about a small-time actress and director & the other is about a nurse and patient, but that’s all I’m revealing for now 🤭

Sorry I haven’t posted in a few days, it’s been a busy time for me! xx

[obsession4uu]

Heyyy, it's the "Read More" anon here

No!! Don't you dare delete any of your writing!!!

I actually looked up how to do the button lmao, and apparently on desktop, when there's a line of icons "Images, gifs, links...", It's the last icon "Add read-more link". And on mobile, you add a :readmore: after the line where you wanna shorten

Anyways, I can't wait for pt2!! I'm excited for any writing from you (≧▽≦) You're writing actually hits (almostt) all my preferences!

Hi hi anon!

I've just fixed it hopefully! Glad again that you like it so much <3333

ALSO lmk what your preferences are! Though I usually write for my own enjoyment, I wouldn't mind getting inspired by new topics. (Plus if you love what I write, we probably have similar tastes lolll)

[obsession4uu]

Omgggg I love your writing, especially the latest one. It's so good, I keep rereading it and wishing for moreee, I'm surprised the writings are not more popular

Would you consider doing a part 2 to Male-dominated field? Or Best Friends would be great too. Would be interesting to see how they go on with their lives about that

Thank you again for the treats. If it's alright, could I ask if you could cut part of the long posts behind the "Read More" button? I love your writings (incl the length and buildups) and I'd like to save all of them under my liked posts (^^) but it can be hard to scroll past them all

Awh I’m blushing!! thank you so much :*

I’m already planning Best Friends pt.2 from a previous request, but I’ll queue one for Male-Dominated Fields too (it’s also my fave so far🤭)

For cutting the long posts, I have no idea how to do that actually LOL (does it mean I delete some of the writing?)

If you could lmk and I can do it, I def will <33

[obsession4uu]

can you make a seongje x reader fic? ( smut ) ❤️‍🩹

Babe I'm so sorry to disappoint but idk if I can D:

I've just never watched Weak Hero Class 2 so I don't think I'll do it justice </3

Forgive me 😖😖

[obsession4uu]

Male-Dominated Field

CW: m!yandere, m!yandere, & m!yandere x f!reader, dead dove do not eat, noncon, unprotected sex, creampie, dp, tp, airtight, anal, group sex, oral (m! & f!receiving), hair pulling, vibrator, breathplay, psychological, physical violence, university setting, degradation, degrading praise Word Count: 5.6k

From a young age, you dreamed of working in game development. Your older brother introduced you to coding when you were little, and ever since then, you’d been obsessed with learning everything you could, hoping one day you’d create games like the ones you grew up playing.

What you didn’t realize back then was how difficult it would be to enter such a male-dominated field.

Raised by a single father alongside your brother, you compensated for the lack of feminine influence in your life by embracing all things girly. Your wardrobe overflowed with romantic colours, floral prints, fluttery blouses, dresses, and short skirts. Even so, you’d always felt comfortable in male-heavy spaces. You were a gamer, sporty growing up, used to rough humour and loud conversations.

Still, comfort wasn’t the same thing as belonging.

Eventually, you started craving the softness of female friendship. The intimacy of it. The understanding.

Then again, if that was what you wanted, maybe computer science had been the wrong choice.

“Alright everyone,” Professor Perez said, glancing up from the laptop on his lectern. “Throughout the semester, you’ll be working in groups of three-four to create an animation demonstrating your understanding of the programming concepts we cover in class.”

Groans and shifting backpacks rippled through the lecture hall.

“There will be multiple submissions,” he continued, “including early builds, testing documentation, debugging reports, and your final implementation. Choose your groups wisely and email them to me by the end of the week.”

He clapped his hands once, finished with his course debrief and effectively dismissed us.

Around you, chairs scraped against the floor as people immediately turned toward familiar faces. Conversations overlapped. Groups formed effortlessly, like everyone already knew where they belonged.

You looked around the room. You didn’t recognize anyone.

That was when the boy sitting in front of you turned in his seat. He was already looking at you.

“Do you have a group yet?” he asked casually, like the two of you had already been talking.

You blinked. “No. Not yet.”

He smiled immediately, almost like he’d expected that answer. “Join ours.”

It wasn’t really a question. Just an opening left unguarded.

That was how you met Ayaan, Ezana, and Jaime.

At first, they seemed like any other group of guy friends. Loud. Competitive. Borderline insufferable.

Some work sessions felt less like collaborating with classmates and more like babysitting overgrown children. Still, you stayed.

Groups like this were temporary by design. Four months, maybe less if everyone did their part. And despite the friction, you worked well together— almost disturbingly well. Like the group somehow functioned better under tension.

As deadlines approached, they’d finally settle down enough to focus. When your first submission’s grade came back as a ninety-five, all the irritation suddenly felt worth it.

Slowly, you got used to them. And if you were being honest, it felt nice not to be alone in such an isolating program. So when they started inviting you to hang out outside of class, you said yes.

Most nights were spent crowded around someone’s console setup— grinding ranked games, arguing over roguelike builds, or letting them lose to you repeatedly in battle royales.

Somewhere along the way, you stopped feeling like the girl in the group. You became one of them.

Maybe too much so.

“Ugh! Put on a shirt!” you shouted, throwing a pillow at Ezana’s bare torso. 

He caught it lazily. “Why? It’s just us.”

You shifted on the couch, fixing your hair before glaring at him pointedly while trying very hard not to look below his face. Beside you, Jaime took a sip of beer before belching loudly enough to shake the coffee table.

“Gross, Jaime. Do you have to do that?”

He grinned shamelessly. “What? It’s a natural bodily function.”

On the TV, a boxer’s jab-cross combo replayed dramatically in slow motion.

Ezana dropped onto the couch beside you, his dreads flopping with the movement. His wide frame forces you further into Jaime’s side. The rough hair on his arm scratched against your soft skin and irritation immediately prickled through you.

None of them understood personal space. Or maybe they just didn’t care.

Your skirt had started riding dangerously high from being squished between them, and you awkwardly tugged the hem back down. Ezana noticed instantly.

“Oh my God,” he laughed. “My date last night wore that exact skirt.” You froze.

“She was probably the hottest girl I’ve ever hooked up with,” he continued casually. “Every guy in the club was staring at her tits. Honestly? I couldn’t even blame them.”

Disgust twisted across your face. Why was he telling you this? Did he forget you were a girl too?

“Pics or it didn’t happen,” Ayaan said as he walked out from his room. Ezana immediately pulled out his phone while Jaime practically launched himself forward in excitement.

“YES! Fuck yes, I’m gonna be a millionaire. Pizza’s on me tonight!”

Jaime’s elbow knocked your arm hard enough to send your phone skidding beneath the couch, stopping near Ayaan’s feet.

You sighed sharply. “Could you grab that for me?”

Ayaan glanced down at the phone. Then back at you.

“Don’t you have hands too?”

You looked down at your skirt. Cute for campus. Not practical for crawling around on the floor in front of three men.

Whatever.

You crouched carefully, one hand holding your skirt in place while the other searched blindly beneath the couch cushions. Dust clung to your fingertips before you finally grabbed your phone.

When you stood again, adjusting your clothes, you noticed the room had gone strangely quiet.

Ezana’s phone still hung loosely in his hand. Jaime wasn’t talking. Ayaan was staring.

Heat flashed across your face. Did your skirt ride up? Embarrassment quickly curdled into annoyance.

Why hadn’t Ayaan just picked up the phone for you? You’d seen him do bigger favours for random girls all the time. What was his problem?

“You guys are seriously rude to me,” you snapped. “I know we’re friends and all, but I’m still a girl, you know.” 

You hoped your irritation masked the flush creeping up your neck.

Ayaan tilted his head slightly, studying you.

“Is that so?”

Something about the way he said it made your stomach tighten.

“Yeah,” you shot back. “It is. Put on a shirt. Stop acting gross. Treat me like a girl for once.”

You pointed accusingly at Ezana and Jaime. Jaime immediately raised his hands. “Sorry, mom,” he joked, but his eyes lingered on you a second too long.

Ezana, however, only smiled.

Slowly.

“Treat you like a girl?” he repeated.

Then he looked toward Ayaan.

The two exchanged a glance you couldn’t quite decipher, but something about it made your skin prickle.

Ayaan’s mouth curved into the faintest smirk.

A chill crawled down your spine.

Suddenly, the room didn’t feel nearly as harmless as it had before.

You gathered your things soon after that, eager to leave before the strange tension thickening the room could settle any deeper.

By then, the semester was nearing its end, and your group had begun cramming in extra work sessions several times a week to finish the project.

The library study room smelled faintly of dry-erase markers and burnt coffee. Rain tapped softly against the windows while three of you sat crowded around a table littered with laptops, charger cables, and empty snack wrappers. Ezana was gone for a basketball destressor event. Final exam season had reduced everyone to varying levels of stress and sleep deprivation.

You stared at your screen hard enough for the text to blur.

while(choice != "quit")

The loop should have been working. Instead, the program ran forever no matter what input you gave it. You rubbed your eyes and tried again.

Still nothing.

Beside you, Ayaan glanced over from his laptop.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s stuck in the loop,” you muttered. He rolled his chair closer without asking. “Let me see.”

“I’ve got it.”

“Mhm.”

The sound alone irritated you. You quickly edited the line yourself:

while(choice == "quit")

You ran the program again. Immediate termination. Wrong again.

Ayaan leaned back in his chair with a sigh dramatic enough to deserve an audience. “You can’t compare strings like that.”

Your fingers paused over the keyboard. 

“I know that.”

“Clearly not.”

Heat crept into your face instantly. Across the table, Jaime looked up from his phone, sensing tension the way sharks sensed blood in water. He’d become a big watcher these days, urging on conflict with no actual skin in the game, like it was another boxing match he was viewing from the TV.

Ayaan pointed toward your screen. “== compares object references, not string values.” His voice had shifted into something painfully patient. Like a teaching assistant explaining basic arithmetic to a struggling child.

“You need .equals().”

You inhaled slowly through your nose. “I was about to do that.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I literally just said I knew.”

Ayaan tilted his head slightly, loose curls falling over his eyes. “Then why’d you write it wrong twice?”

Jaime let out a sharp laugh before disguising it as a cough. You shot him a glare.

Ayaan had fully abandoned his own work now, turning toward you completely with one arm draped over the back of his chair.

“The issue,” he continued, “is that you code based on intuition instead of understanding how Java actually handles memory allocation.”

You stared at him.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“That is the most condescending sentence I’ve ever heard.”

He frowned faintly, looking genuinely confused. “How is that condescending?”

“You always do this thing where you mansplain everything like you’re delivering a TED Talk.”

“I’m explaining why your code doesn’t work,” he replied calmly.

Then, without waiting for permission, he leaned over you and typed:

while(!choice.equals("quit"))

“Run it now.”

You hesitated before pressing enter. The program worked instantly. 

Jaime slapped the table dramatically. “Ladies and gentlemen, sexism has been resolved.”

“Shut up,” both you and Ayaan said at the same time. That only made Jaime laugh harder.

“So many buttons to push, so little time~" he sings like a horror villain.

You leaned back in your chair with a sharp exhale, crossing your arms. “I didn’t ask for a lecture,” you muttered. “I let you solve your own problems. Why can’t you let me solve mine?”

Ayaan’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“You’re the one who asked to be treated like a girl,” he said evenly. “I’m just delivering on it.”

“I said treat me like a girl, not an idiot.”

Your voice came out sharper than intended as you clicked absentmindedly through the animation running on your screen. A pixelated bunny hopped forward before getting shredded apart in a trap, blood splattering across the monitor in exaggerated little sprites.

Ayaan followed your gaze.

“That bunny’s pretty dumb,” he observed.

You frowned. “What?”

His eyes flicked back toward you. “Maybe you should’ve asked us to treat you like the bunny instead. Seems more fitting.” Something cold flashed behind his expression.

Not a joke. Not entirely. The chill that ran through you this time lingered much longer.

The campus track was nearly empty at this hour.

A pale morning haze still clung to the field, softening the floodlights that buzzed faintly overhead. The air smelled like damp pavement and cut grass, cool enough to sting your lungs each time you inhaled.

You preferred it this way. Quiet.

No crowded hallways. No noisy lecture halls. No group chats blowing up before eight in the morning. Just the rhythmic slap of your running shoes against the track and the steady pulse of music humming through your earbuds.

Sweat clung damply to the back of your neck by your sixth lap. Your white shirt had started sticking to your skin, especially around your chest and stomach, and you reached up to wipe your forehead with the back of your wrist.

You were midway through another lap when two familiar figures appeared near the entrance gate.

Even from a distance, they were unmistakable.

Ezana jogged with easy confidence, sleeveless hoodie hanging open and headphones resting around his neck instead of actually being used. Beside him, Jaime looked only half-awake.

You slowed slightly.

Unfortunately, they spotted you immediately.

“Well, well,” Jaime called out as you approached. “You’re on your training arc, huh?”

You pulled one earbud out. “It’s six in the morning. Why are you talking so loud?”

“Because Ezana ignored me for twenty straight minutes,” Jaime complained. “Apparently jogging is ‘serious business.’”

“It is serious business,” Ezana replied flatly. “You sound like you’ve smoked a pack a day for the last 16 years after just 5 minutes of cardio.”

Jaime gasped dramatically. “And you say you love me?”

You laughed despite yourself, slowing to a walk as they fell into step beside you. Ezana glanced over briefly. “How long have you been here?”

“About forty minutes.” Jaime stared at you in horror. “Forty minutes? Voluntarily?”

“I like running.”

“You frighten me.”

The three of you continued around the curve of the track together. Your pulse was still elevated from the run, warmth radiating off your skin while the cool morning air hit damp patches of sweat across your body.

Jaime noticed first. 

“Oh my God,” he said, pointing at you. “You’re so sweaty.”

You looked at him incredulously. “I was running.”

Ezana snorted quietly beside him.

Jaime shook his water bottle lazily. “Here. Cool off.”

Before you could react, he squeezed the bottle toward you teasingly, clearly intending to spray a small stream of water your way.

Instead, the cap exploded clean off.

“WAIT—”

A freezing wave of water blasted directly into your chest.

You gasped sharply as icy water drenched the front of your shirt in seconds. The thin white fabric clung instantly to your skin, turning nearly transparent.

For one stunned second, nobody moved. Jaime stared, an undiscernible glint in his eyes.

Then his jaw dropped dramatically.

“Oh my God.”

You crossed your arms over yourself immediately. “JAIME!”

“I DIDN’T MEAN— THE CAP CAME OFF!”

“You idiot!”

He doubled over laughing anyway with something almost maniacal in it. “I swear, I didn’t mean to.” he said with a sharp grin and sparkling eyes.

Jaime’s watchful gaze shifted to Ezana, who had gone unusually quiet.

You looked up just in time to catch his eyes flick downward before snapping back to your face. The movement was quick, almost restrained, but heat still rushed into your cheeks instantly.

Your soaked shirt clung humiliatingly to every curve of your body.

Jaime was still wheezing. “I’m so sorry—” “You’re buying me coffee.” you declared.

“Oh c’mon! It was an honest mistake.”

You glared at him.

“Right. Yes. Obviously.”

Ezana finally pulled off his hoodie and handed it toward you without a word. The gesture caught you off guard. For once, there wasn’t a joke attached.

You hesitated before taking it carefully and pulling it over yourself, grateful for the thick dark fabric hiding the damp shirt underneath.

“Thanks.” you mumbled.

Ezana shrugged, but his expression remained unreadable. You noticed the growing bulge in his thin athletic shorts but shoved the thought out of your mind.

Jaime, unfortunately, recovered enough to grin again.

“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “if this were an anime, this would definitely awaken something in the male leads.” 

You threw the empty water bottle cap at his head.

The day you submitted your final animation arrived faster than expected. One moment you were drowning in deadlines, and the next, it was over. For the first time in weeks, your mind felt quiet. No assignments lurking in the back of your thoughts. No guilt about unfinished work. Just relief.

“We should celebrate tonight,” Ayaan had said earlier that day while the four of you walked across campus. “Come over. We’ll play games and order pizza.”

You snorted. “You mean the exact same thing we always do at your place?”

“Yeah,” Jaime replied immediately, throwing an arm around Ezana’s shoulders, “but tonight it’s celebratory pizza and games.”

By the time your last class ended, you found yourself heading toward their rental house almost automatically.

Ezana opened the door before you could even knock. “You’re finally here,” he said with a grin, stepping aside to let you in. “Come on, come on.”

He ushered you into the living room you’d spent countless nights in before, but something immediately felt different.

The house was quiet. Too quiet.

No video game sound effects buzzing from the television. No sports match blaring in the background. No overlapping arguments about takeout orders or whose turn it was to pick the next game.

Just silence hanging thick in the air. Your steps slowed instinctively.

Ayaan stood near the hallway leading to the bedrooms, one shoulder resting against the wall, his expression unreadable as always. Jaime sat on the armchair, fidgeting with restless energy.

The moment you entered, all of their attention shifted toward you at once.

Jaime’s grin stretched impossibly wide, brighter and more excited than you’d ever seen before.

Cold unease washed over you. Ayaan said nothing. He only watched you.

“Finally!” Jaime shot up from the armchair so quickly it nearly tipped backward.

Before you could react, Ezana’s hands closed around your arms, steering—almost shoving—you toward the seat Jaime had just vacated.

You stumbled into it with a nervous laugh. “Okay… what’s going on?” Your eyes flicked between them. “Where’s the pizza and games?” The question sounded painfully naive against the tension filling the room.

Ezana’s grip shifted from your arms to your shoulders, heavy and firm enough to keep you seated. Something about the pressure made your stomach tighten. Across the room, Jaime disappeared briefly down the hallway toward his bedroom.

Ayaan, meanwhile, began walking toward you slowly. Deliberately. Something about the way he moved made your pulse spike.

“You wanted to be treated like a girl, right?” he asked.

Your brows pulled together immediately. The question felt wrong somehow, like there was an answer he wanted from you specifically. Still, you nodded cautiously. “Yeah. I do.”

Your gaze dropped instinctively to your outfit: a plaid pleated skirt, lace-trimmed camisole, soft makeup carefully done before class.

What was so wrong with wanting to feel feminine?

Ayaan laughed quietly. The sound was low and sharp enough to make heat crawl up the back of your neck.

“Poor dumb bunny,” he murmured.

You stared at him. “What are you calling m—”

The words died in your throat.

A sudden metallic clank echoed from behind you.

You turned sharply toward the sound just as Jaime stepped back into the room, holding his laptop and an adjustable pole that’s connected to a…

You blink, that can’t be right.

At the end of it is unmistakably a wand vibrator. Your heart jumps to your throat, shaking your head to try and fight off your racing thoughts. Behind you, Ezana is chuckling before he leans down to whisper in your ear. 

“Wish you wore the other skirt today, you know, the ruffly one? Been thinking about fucking you in it for weeks now.”

Your chest is thumping painfully, what the fuck does he mean by that?

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, and you lurch to your feet but Ezana’s hands are quicker to push you back down. “Ah-ah-ah,” he said, wagging a finger. “Not so fast.”

“Can you guys hurry up? My dick feels like it’s going to explode if I don’t fuck her now,” Jaime whines. Sweet Jaime, jokester of the group Jaime, the one who always made you laugh, the one who introduced you to the wolves circling you right now.

Opening up his laptop to a coding program. Ayaan joins him, scanning over his laptop screen before turning back to you.

“Maybe you’ll recognize this line,” he gestures to you on the screen. 

while(!choice.equals("volume ≥ 20%"))

Volume?

Ayaan notices your unspoken question and smoothly complies.

“As long as your volume doesn’t exceed 20%, the vibrator stays off. But the louder you get, the worse it’ll for you.” He watches you with sick satisfaction as you face morphs into horror.

Using the bricks of your childhood dreams against you. These depraved fuckers really coded this just to torture you? If you weren’t currently in your position, you’d laugh at the audacity.

You're heaving with deep breaths, trying anything to calm yourself but no amount of air is enough.

“Why are you guys doing this? I thought we were friends.” Your eyes are begging, hoping that there's some shred of humanity in any of these three that will save you from your cruel fate.

“Yeah, that’s right, isn’t it? It’s funny because when I first saw you, I thought you were too pretty to be in our lecture. All smooth skin and soft curves; and so innocent— you didn’t even know the view we were getting of your panties up your skirt.” Ayaan laughs softly to himself at the memory. 

“It was so perfect, you, the lost puppy, begging for a group to take you in. Us, your knights in shining armour. We figured you’d make a good fucktoy to relieve stress while we did all the work, of course. But you surprised us, y’know? You were relentless with your work ethic. I actually began to respect you.”

“But you didn’t actually want that, did you?” Ezana continues, voice rumbling behind you. “Pretty things like you don’t want to be respected, you want to be a sweet pussy for us to put our dicks in. A tight throat to swallow all our cum.” 

“I hate to say I told you so, but I did tell you so.” Jaime interjects. “I mean, I do us all a favour and invite the pretty girl to our group, but then suddenly, everyone wants to be a gentleman? Unbelievable. Who knew all it would take was a shove and short skirt to change their minds, amirite?”

“‘Treat me like a girl’’ He mocked with a manic laugh, emulating your voice from that night. Your hands were shaking by your sides— from anger, from fear, from humiliation. 

“You know what I meant!” you shout, unrestrained frustration flowing through you. “Oh, but do we?” Ayaan quickly replies, tilting his head, daring you to challenge him.

Ezana’s hand slides to your throat, putting light pressure on it. You can’t bring yourself to fight Ayaan’s words, not when you’re at their mercy like this.

Ayaan smiles devilishly, “that’s what I thought.” Leaning back against the table holding Jaime’s laptop.

In front of you, Jaime bends down to meet your thighs. You push them together as hard as you can, but he pries them open easily, muscle rippling through his toned arms. He beams a toothy grin at you before bowing his head down. 

Soft lips touch the skin of your inner thigh. They leave wet sloppy kisses as they travel upward, you hear him breathing in deeply, savouring the moment. “You’re a fucking pervert.” you grind out, jaw clenched in restraint, hoping to strike a nerve. Jaime just smiles again at you, resting his head on your thigh while one hand massages and caresses the other. 

“Guilty~” he sings. The whole situation made you dizzy, but you especially didn’t expect this. Jaime lusting after you so shamelessly? You always felt like he was your rambunctious little brother, seeing the way he’s now squeezing the plush of your thighs makes your stomach churn.

Ezana’s hands snake around your waist, moving up to cup your breasts and massage in tandem with Jaime. Your breath hitches as he dives under your camisole, shuffling your top down so that it only covers your midriff and leaves your chest bare. He lays a kiss on the top of your head, more tender than you’d expect from the ladies man.

He begins pinching and rolling your nipples between his forefinger and thumb then dips his head. Placing a soft kiss that bobs your head to the side, he continues his way down your jaw and to your neck. Ezana’s movements are sensual, almost romantic. This disturbed you to think he would kiss you like you were lovers. 

Jaime pulls your hips forward, sliding your panties off while leaving your skirt untouched. His mouth is immediately on your clit, no warnings. He’s lapping at you like this is all for his own satisfaction rather than your pleasure. 

You cry out from the spike of sensation, gripping the armrests hard. 

“Ou, we should hook her up now, look at all that wasted noise she’s making.” Ayaan says. You look over at him, how his arms cross so assertively, he’s watching them play with you like he’s above all of this.

Between your thighs, Jaime grunts as his fingers dig into your thighs, dimpling the flesh. You whimper, scared of the near future and already overwhelmed with the furious licks Jaime is forcing onto you.

He finishes with one final suck on your clit, grazing his teeth against it before he straightens out. His mouth and chin are glistening but he licks his lips and wipes off the excess like a rabid dog. 

Jaime then guides you up, spinning you around and pushing you to kneel propped up against the chair. He grabs the vibrator and adjusts the pole until it’s perfectly pushing into your clit. A small noise slips out from just that alone, tears running down your face as sobs rack through you. Ezana clips a small mic onto your useless top before switching with Jaime behind you. 

Ayaan finally decides to join, standing to face you wordlessly. He grabs your jaw to force your eyes directly at his.

Ezana sticks two fingers in you, pumping more quickly than you expect. You cry out and the vibrator whirs to life against you. You try to close your legs but it doesn’t stop the access the machine has to your clit. If anything, your clenched thighs make everything feel 10 x more tight and stimulating. At least for now, the toy is barely noticeable.

Ezana continues working his fingers into you, slower now that the vibrator’s been turned on. He scissors his fingers inside you, twisting them around like he’s mixing up your insides.

You sob again and the vibrator gets a little bit stronger, forcing another strangled noise from you. You bite down on your lip until you taste blood, but anything’s okay if it stops the vibrations from getting worse.

Ayaan takes notice and brushes his thumb against your bottom lip. 

“Open.”

You try to protest, holding onto your last defences, but all it takes is one tilt of his head.

'I dare you,' it reads, and you relinquish.

Obeying with defeat as his thumb pushes in. He plays with your tongue before pressing it down, leaving your mouth open and making it difficult to block the noises you desperately want to cease.

Suddenly, the sound of unzipping pants and belt buckle clanking rings out from where Ezana stands. You feel his hand steady himself on your lower back while gathering up your slick with his tip. You squeeze your eyes closed, hoping to escape from this nightmare.

There was no way out physically; no chance against these three men. You couldn’t even plead with them, unless you wanted the vibrator to turn your sentences incoherent. But maybe, you could mentally pretend you were somewhere else. Anywhere else but here.

Ayaan slaps your face hard, sending your head to the side where you can see Jaime watching from the couch, dick in hand, stroking slowly and lazily. 

“Where do you think you're going, sweet bunny?” Ayaan asks. You don't even get the chance to respond when you feel the pressure of Ezana pushing into your cunt. He’s slow, working back and forth until he bottoms out. Electricity runs up your spine and you hate how good it feels. His passionate thrusts and the hum of the vibrator making everything warm inside you.

You can’t stop the whimper which escapes and the vibrator’s power strikes up again. Ezana’s dick twitches at that noise as he begins thrusting harder. Moans spill out of you before you can catch them, a pressure already building in your core from all the touching and licking, and squeezing from before. You shake your head, trying to fight back, but the vibrator keeps getting stronger and each thrust is grinding your clit against it. 

Drool is dripping down your chin while Ayaan keeps your gaze on him. His face says it all, you were never going to be able to stop this. An orgasm rips through you, making you clench and shake around Ezana’s dick. 

He pulls out with a wet schluk and the vibrator is turned off by Jaime, still stroking his erection. 

Your legs feel like jelly and you collapse as they take away the vibrator. You can feel your clit still pulsating from the onslaught it just endured. “What’re you doing?” Ayaan questions, “we’re not done yet.”

“But—” you start.

“But what? I still haven’t even cum yet. Not my fault you can’t last.” Ayaan effectively shuts you up. Ezana's using your slick as lubrication to continue pumping his dick.

“Tsk, what a useless fucktoy.” Ezana reprimands. It stings more after the passionate sex he'd just delivered.

You’d cry more if you didn’t feel so overwhelmed. Instead, you let Ezana lift you up before sliding you back down on his lap. You’re so sensitive, just him entering again is sending shockwaves throughout your body. He bounces you twice up and down before stopping.

You look around at them, worried for their next move. “Now that we don’t need your noises, we should do something about that mouth of yours.” Ayaan taunts close to your face. “But what do I know? I’m just a sexist mansplainer who can’t mind his own business.” You regret those words, you regret ever agreeing to be in a group with them, regret ever even joining this Godforsaken program.

Ayaan's dick, free from his pants, is shoved into your mouth in an instant. You feel Jaime, now near again, gather up the hair from your scalp before wielding it like a handle. He shoves your head as far as you can go down Ayaan’s thick length. You choke and tears prick your eyes from the lack of air. Noises are only coming out of you as you push against Ayaan’s hips, trying to find any relief.

Below you, Ezana is kneading your cheeks, delivering soft spanks now and then before soothing it after.

In one quick move you’re let off to breathe but only for a second, then, Jaime’s hand pushes you straight down again. Choking and pounding on his stomach, Ayaan only bucks his hips into you— fucking your face with slow controlled thrusts. 

You can feel Jaime watch intently as it disappears in and out of you. “My turn, please! I’ve been waiting for so long.” He whines, loosening his grip which you use to remove yourself immediately. Coughing and sputtering as you gulp in big breaths of air.

“Knock yourself out.” Ayaan says, his length wet and dripping with saliva.

Instead he moves around behind you, to your ass. You jump up in fear, Ezana pushes you back down. “No stop, this is too much. I’ve never— I don’t want to!” You plead with them, any of them. But all three pay you dust.

Ayaan is grinding his dick into the valley of your ass, groaning from the sensation of his tip dragging along it. He uses his hand to stretch the tight hole open while he continues rubbing himself against you. You feel his hips press to your ass, like he’s imagining all that length inside of you. 

Then in an excruciatingly painful entrance, he pushes in. Maybe the saliva had dried up, or maybe you were never going to be prepared enough for it, but it feels like he's ripping you in two. Both Ayaan and Ezana have the largest dicks you’ve ever seen, and the feeling of both of them in you, stretching you out, has you feeling like you’re getting torn apart. 

Ayaan is already thrusting hard, no regard to the hurt he’s causing you. You shift, trying to get away, but soon Ezana is thrusting into you too. “Does that hurt?” Ayaan asks you, confusing you as to why he’d worry for you.

You nod reluctantly, trying to hold onto your sanity as the two fill you more than you thought you ever could be. The burn of your sensitive clit is long forgotten with the overwhelming fullness they’re inflicting upon you. 

“Good, I love it when it hurts for them. This tight little hole wasn’t meant for something this big, huh?” He says, brushing the ring of muscle with his thumb. 

You’re shaking, but there’s no time to rest. Jaime is caressing your face. “Eyes on me now.” he commands. You whimper, not ready for the same roughness he inflicted when your mouth was on Ayaan. He bullies his cock into your mouth anyways, bruising the soft palette and slipping further into your throat. 

It’s all so much, being filled in every hole possible, all at once. You just came but you already feel another orgasm build up inside you. 

Squeezing down on them while thinking about how they’re thrusting into you anywhere they can. They couldn’t be bothered to take turns, they had to have you as soon as they could. 

“The pocket pussy is going to cum again, isn’t she? With 2 dicks rubbing inside her ass and pussy.” Ezana coos out. “Why bother asking? She can’t talk with a mouth full of cock.” Jaime says with a slight laugh, his voice is strained as he pistons into your mouth, hand tangled in your hair. 

“She’s too dumb to answer even with her mouth free. Cockdrunk slut.” Ayaan ends.

You cum hard, harder than you’ve ever cum before. How could you not? With all the touching, the sensation. All three of their tips dragging along your insides as they pummelled into you over and over again. 

The orgasm lasts so long that Ezana and Ayaan finish with you. One after the other, deep inside so that they fill you even when they’re gone. Ayaan fucks it deeper into you while Ezana plugs you, not letting a single bit drip out.

You’re moaning with no restraint but all of the sounds are muffled with Jaime in your mouth.

“Ah fuck, keep moaning like that. Such a good mouth on such dirty girl.” He grunts. His hips are stuttering, you know what’s going to come next. The taste of salt and bitterness paints your tongue as he thrusts all the way out and then all the way back into your throat. You don’t even get the chance to decide whether you want to swallow as he shoots everything straight down your esophagus. 

After a few more jerky thrusts, he pulls out of you with a wet pop.

You begin to cry, you feel like a little girl missing her mommy. Still sitting in his lap, stuffed with Ezana, he lets you cry into the crook of his neck, rubbing down your back soothingly. 

Your eyes peek up to watch Ayaan zip up his pants and buckle his belt. He looks like nothing happened, like they didn’t just ruin you.

“Poor bunny, never stood a chance.” he laughed softly. “It’s a man’s world after all.”

[obsession4uu]

Can I get pt 2 (or more) for best friends fanfic, please? It's my favourite 👉👈

hi lovely!! yes u can, just give me some time loll

In the meantime, I do plan to release more MxMxF stories, so I hope you enjoy them while you wait!

Also feel free to send any themes or ideas you might want to be included in part 2 😚🩷

[obsession4uu]

Is bestfriends loosely inspired by that one scene in Heathers?

No, sorry! But if you think it resembles Heathers, I might just go watch it 😛😛

[obsession4uu]

Do you plan to write new parts for your published and upcoming stories?

Hi Anon!!

I’m not opposed to it, especially if people request for new parts.

However, I probably wouldn’t do it on my own unless I’m really inspired by a plot.

Thanks for being my first ever ask!!! :* MWAH

[obsession4uu]

Best Friends

CW: m!yandere & m!yandere x f!reader, dead dove do not eat, noncon, unprotected sex, creampie, dp, anal, group sex, hair pulling, blackmailing, non-consensual recording, somnophilia, breathplay, under-the-influence noncon, degradation, psychological, physical violence, university setting Word Count: 5.0k

You're not exactly sure how you ended up with two guys as your best friends. Jian Li and Haoran Gao had relatively opposing personalities compared to yours. Yet here you were, studying together at Haoran's dining table.

You used to be a large co-ed friend group of seven, but over the years, things changed significantly. Two people paired off and grew distant, one moved away, and another girl drifted after confessing a crush to Jian, who wasn’t reciprocating. It was a rocky time for the group, but it seemed like every member you lost only brought you closer together.

"Ugh." Jian groans while bending backwards over his chair. His arms stretch out in a large Y, raising his white shirt and exposing the skin of his stomach.

"My back hurts so much. Haoran, rub my back." He commands and Haoran in response lightly smacks his head.

"Just because I'm studying kinesiology doesn't mean you get free massages, you weirdo." Haoran shakes his head disapprovingly and pushes up his glasses before returning to his laptop.

Jian doesn’t pay Haoran any mind, however, instead he turns to face you. He's slouched over the table and has his head resting on his forearms while he looks up at you. "Take pity on me, I've been working on my stats assignment since Thursday." He pouts, asking for the massage without actually asking for it.

You narrow your eyes at him but stand up with a scrape of your chair. "I'm tired too," you agree with a big stretch before breaking into a mischievous grin, "let's go get ice cream."

Haoran quickly closes his laptop and stands up beside you, grabbing your sweater and holding it open to help you into it. Jian, the sloth he is, sluggishly drags behind with a frown. "But what's ice cream going to do for my back?" He complains.

Haoran and you both ignore him while you walk towards the elevator door.

In the convenience store, Jian and Haoran circle the refrigerators brimming with energy drinks, while you stand in line with three popsicles.

They’re joking together, and you watch as Jian keels over laughing. Jian and Haoran have been friends since childhood, growing up together. Their bond was both admirable and annoying; they seemed to move as one, never apart. This made pulling pranks a real challenge. You smile to yourself, recalling the disaster of your last April Fools’ Day, when a sudden hand on your shoulder makes you jump.

Jian’s arm wraps around you as he steps forward to place a bright orange can on the counter. You’re jolted back to reality and quickly set down your popsicles, while Haoran retrieves his card to pay.

You’ve come about 50 meters from the door when you tap your pocket. It’s much emptier than you remembered it being just a moment ago. “Ugh, I think I left my phone in there,” you say, rushing back in to find it.

Scanning the room, you check around the counter before spotting it atop the ice cream deep freezer. Relaxing with relief, you make your way out again when you hear them.

"Why haven't you asked her out yet?" Jian's voice is low but clear and you stop in your tracks. "I don't know man, I don't know if she's even aware I like her." Haoran sighs tiredly. He leans back to rest against the convenience store's brick wall, giving you a clear view of Jian's face.

"Bro, don't worry, just remember the plan and you'll be okay." He reassures, but at that moment, he looks up to find you standing there. Your frozen limbs begin moving, pretending that you didn't hear anything. Haoran stands up straight, "hey, did you find your phone?"

A smile forces its way onto your face, "yeah, I did! Thank God." You're hoping you sound inconspicuous, but you don't feel that way at all. Who were they talking about? Haoran doesn't talk to anyone but you two, they couldn't be talking about you, could they?

You're deep in thought during your walk back when you feel someone watching you. You look to see Jian, eyes staring across Haoran standing in the middle of you both.

He knows you heard them.

Trying to act normal around them after that was difficult. You started to take notice of everything Haoran did: paying for your coffees, lending you his sweaters, always saving you a seat, and asking you about your day. You felt stupid for not realizing sooner, but you felt awful about potentially leading him on. You didn't see Haoran like that, but how could you bring it up to him when really, are you even sure it's you they were discussing?

This predicament cycled around your head in a dizzying manner.

"So what're you going to do?" Jian's voice cut through your thoughts. "Wh—what?" you stammered. "The CSA clubbing night? Are you going to come? C'mon I worked so hard planning it, you have to!"

You let out the breath you didn't realize you were holding in. For the past few weeks, Haoran had been working tirelessly to ensure the success of the event. He was gunning for the President position in your school's Chinese Student Association next year. You agreed to attend when he first brought it up.

Looking at him now though, your stomach twisted with guilt. You didn't want to let him down but you were scared that every nice gesture was giving him the wrong impression.

"Yeah, of course I'll go." You decide finally, but you feel Jian watching you fidget with your hands.

When you finish studying together on campus, you move to pack up your things. “Wait up for me.” Jian called out. You looked up at him a little nervously. “Oh it’s okay, you don’t have to walk me home.” You try but Jian tilts his head with a confused look. “What’re you talking about? We always walk home together.”

It was true, Jian’s student rental house wasn’t far from yours so throughout your undergraduate, it had become a habit to walk home together. You bite down your protests and walk silently beside him.

You had never felt uncomfortable with either Jian or Haoran, but suddenly being alone with Jian felt so tense.

“What will you tell him?”

Jian has always been blunt but this was too much.

“What do you mean?” you stall.

Jian tsks annoyedly, “you know what I mean.”

He has always been the jokester of your group, so his strange hostile tone makes fear rise in you.

You search the street lamps that bathe the road in a yellow hue for a way out but nothing comes to your rescue and so you are forced to answer.

“I don’t… I don’t like Haoran in that way.” Your voice comes out quiet.

“Why not?” He prods.

“I just don’t.”

“Is he not your type?” Jian’s eyes are narrowed.

“No, it’s not— I just… I don’t really want a relationship with him. He’s my friend.”

"But he wants to be something more."

"Look, I didn't even know he liked me until last week. We've been friends for a long time, do we really have to ruin things like how it was with you and Priscilla?" You bring up the last girl to leave the friend group to make your point. 

Jian sighs softly, he seems disappointed.

“I’m sorry.” you say, trying to ease the let down.

“I’m sorry too.” He ends.

The clubbing event came faster than you anticipated. You were on your third attempt at an outfit when your phone went off.

‘We’re outside yours!’ Haoran’s text read. You look back at the short skirt and leather top and decide it’s good enough before letting the two in.

They’re holding frosted bottles of vodka and soju, already pouring shots while you rush to cut up lime wedges. “One more shot, come on!” Jian encourages after a few rounds. You’re swaying already but the last time you went out clubbing, you sobered up halfway through and tonight was definitely not the night to be reserved. 

You do one more with them and cringe. Tonight it burns more than usual and you use soju to wash away its sting.

Jian’s already called the Uber as you try to zip up your boots. Haoran swiftly bends down in front of you to guide your foot in and zips it up easily. You think to yourself about how considerate he is; he’d make someone very happy. The thought churns your stomach with guilt.

You have to find some way to let him down easily.

You push it off as a tomorrow-problem and pile into the car.

We skip the line as special guests of Haoran’s and soon enough the loud music is all you can hear. It might’ve felt weird to go clubbing without another girl, but alcohol buzzed through your veins and you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Soon, you felt like you were losing gaps in time. One second you were dancing, then you were falling over and Jian’s hands were the only thing holding you up. You made it to the bar somehow where Haoran fed you water.

You were throwing up in the bathroom while Haoran held your hair back. Your throat burned but Haoran rubbed soothing circles.

Finding yourself in a car, you were practically sitting on top of him, his arm holding you up and his other hand resting on your thigh. You spot Jian staring from the driver seat, his eyes looking back at yours through the rearview mirror.

You’re too drunk to question where you were going, too out of it to wonder how Jian was driving.

The next time you come to, you’re stumbling out of an elevator. Jian is lifting your body and practically walking for you. Haoran smoothly unlocks his door and holds it open for you all. You walk over to his room where you’re set down on the bed. The room spins but you don’t have anything more to throw up. Haoran sits on the bed’s edge and pets your hair.

You feel a shift in weight on the other side of the mattress, but you can't bring yourself to look, instead you're heavy with the force of sleep and you fall unconscious.

By the time you stir awake, it's the next day. Your head throbs like you're getting a brain freeze but you drag yourself up to examine your surroundings. Squinting your eyes, you notice how sore your legs are. You feel like you just ran a marathon, small bruises decorating your shins and knees.

That's when you begin to notice the dull ache between your legs. Touching warily, you feel the fabric of your underwear and your fingers come back damp.

What happened last night?

Haoran's room was as familiar as always, but the blinds were shut and they cast shadows around the room in a creepy way.

Throwing the blanket off yourself, you stop when a wave of nausea hits you as you stand. After gathering yourself together, you find your jacket and bag tossed on his desk chair.

You don't quite understand why you're rushing, but something feels off about this situation and you're scared to waste any time.

You're still dizzy when you accidentally knock over a stack of books on Haoran's desk. Their heavy covers are loud as they clatter to the ground and you freeze in your place.

The door opens instantly, Jian's tall frame remains there while silently looking at you and the fallen books.

He stalks forward like a predator and you instinctively step back. "Sleep okay? You had a rough night." He asks, his tone is so contradictory to the tension in the room. You continue stepping back until your hip meets the desk’s edge.

Jian meets you where you've stopped, you can feel his warm breath and see all the details in his face with how close he's standing.

Your chest is rising and falling from the fear you're trying so hard to hide. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that, I hope I didn't cause you guys any trouble."

"It was a lot of trouble." Haoran's voice rings out from behind Jian. Jian shifts to look back at him, giving you a view of Haoran now leaning on the doorframe.

"Tsk, tsk. You even knocked over my books."

He comes closer, crouching down beside you all to collect them into a neat pile, then, drops them with a loud thud.

In an instant, his hand moves to grab your ankles, knocking you off balance while Jian bends you over his shoulder. Carrying you two steps to the bed, you're tossed back to where you spent your night.

Straight away, you crawl backwards; kicking the blanket up in a flurry until you're in the furthest corner away from them.

Haoran looms over you while Jian moves to crawl into the bed, gripping your ankle and dragging you towards them.

You scream and try to push him away, but he switches your positions so that you're sitting in his lap, arms held behind you and forced to look up at Haoran.

Haoran.

His kind features and disarming glasses now feel like a mouse trap. You still try to tug yourself free, but the grip on you gets tighter until it feels like your arms might break.

"Guys c'mon… this isn't funny. I'm really sorry about last night, I didn't mean to get that drunk. I just want to go home." Your voice cracks as you begin to cry, unable to stop the tears that begin streaming down your face. You're so terrified of them, two strong men who know you can't escape whatever they have planned for you.

"We were being careless that day. You never should've heard that conversation." Haoran speaks, leaning forward in a menacing manner. "It's a good thing you didn't hear everything though. Maybe then, you would've known better than to keep hanging around us." Jian adds. His breath was warming your ear and it sent an involuntary shiver down your spine.

"What does that mean? I thought Haoran liked me." You question.

"He does,” Jian’s watching closely for my reaction.

“But so do I."

His words are meant to clear things up, but you only feel nauseous as a chill washes over you.

"When we realized we both liked you, it was Hell. You should've seen how I gave Jian that black eye." Haoran reminisces and you recall the memory he’s referencing.

Jian had showed up with a black eye and Haoran with a busted lip. They had told you that they just got into a fight with someone they didn't want to discuss, they failed to mention that the fight was against each other.

"But then I realized: that's my best friend and you're the girl I love, how could I choose? So we decided that we shouldn't choose, we'd both have you." Haoran finishes, as if all of this was only up to them and you were a mere doll for them to play with.

You shake your head in disbelief.

"No... no. This can't be. You guys need to stop. You're my best friends, why are you doing this?"

"Yeah, the thought that you may reject this did cross our minds. But the solution was very simple,” Jian gestures casually like he’s teaching a math concept.

“Haoran and you begin dating. I’ll be honest, I was so jealous, but, it needed to be done somehow. We planned for him to take videos of you to make sure you'd agree to anything we wanted. Everything after that would come easily."

Haoran laughs, it sounds maniacal.

"Quit being evil, man, I know you're only telling her that to see her reaction." His face was split into a grin while you felt Jian's chuckle rumble against your back.

You pressed your thighs together, the dull ache becoming hard to ignore in light of all this new information. Jian took notice and reached down to caress your inner thigh. "Don't worry baby, we haven't actually fucked you yet, I wanted you to be awake when we put our dicks in you." he growled into your ear.

Jian nuzzles his face into the side of your neck earning a whimper from you. Nerves rush through you as his hand brushes your thigh in slow strokes up and down.

Your heart was hammering so hard in your chest, but you could only sit with all the adrenaline pumping in your veins.

"We did still have to get that insurance though, of course." Haoran admitted, pulling out his phone to show you a video.

It's of you in his bed. Your hair splayed out behind you and your arm is covering your face from the light. Your skirt has been hiked up and your legs are being held apart by arms that you can tell are Haoran's. You're undeniably wet as the phone flashlight highlights the shiny slick coating your cunt and inner thighs. Only Jian's arm can be seen as he pumps a large vibrator in and out of you. Your leather top is unlaced leaving your tits bouncing up and down with each thrust. You watch as your back arches and you moan loudly. Your hands reach to grip the sheets and you see your eyes roll back sloppily. Your body is shaking as moan after moan is pulled out of you and you can tell what that meant. They had made you cum and they recorded it.

You don't even remember it happening, you didn't even have any control over it, but there you were, on their phone, panting and wet like you meant for it to happen.

Horror crashes over you so fast it nearly steals the air from your lungs. Your mouth is dry and it pains you to swallow.

The video keeps playing in Haoran’s hand, your own voice echoing faintly from the speaker, dazed and vulnerable and unaware. Your stomach twists violently.

“Turn it off.” Your voice comes out weak.

Neither of them moves.

“Turn it OFF!” You scream this time.

Haoran finally locks the screen, but the damage is already done. The image is burned into your mind— your body, exposed and touched without permission while they stood over you like you belonged to them.

You shove against Jian’s chest with everything you have.

“Get away from me!”

The sudden movement catches him off guard enough for you to wrench one arm free. You scramble away from them across the mattress, nearly falling off the other side of the bed in your desperation to put distance between you all.

For the first time, neither of them looks amused.

Haoran’s expression tightens. “You’re overreacting.”

A disbelieving laugh breaks out of you, sharp and shaking. “Overreacting?” You repeat. “You got me wasted. You touched me while I was unconscious. You filmed me.”

“We didn’t hurt you,” Jian says quickly, standing now. “We were careful.”

“That doesn’t make it any better!”

Your voice cracks hard enough that silence follows it.

You can see it then— not love, not concern, not even guilt. Just frustration that you're ruining the fantasy they built in their heads.

Haoran steps forward slowly like he’s approaching a frightened animal. “Listen to me carefully,” he says. “We’ve loved you for years. Everything we did was because we didn’t want to lose you.”

“You already did.”

The words land heavier than you expect.

Jian freezes.

Haoran’s jaw clenches.

You slide off the opposite side of the bed, legs trembling so badly you nearly collapse when your feet hit the floor. Your body still feels sluggish, sick, wrong, but adrenaline is beginning to overpower the fog in your head.

The video replayed in your thoughts, a single phone held your demise, but maybe if the police came in time, that video could be deleted before ever getting the chance to be held over you.

“Don’t come near me,” you whisper. 

Jian lifts his hands slightly. “We can talk about this.”

“There is nothing to talk about.”

You grab your bag from the desk chair so quickly it knocks into the wall. Your phone nearly slips from your shaking fingers as you clutch it against your chest.

Haoran notices immediately. His voice changes. Colder now.

“You’re not thinking of calling someone, are you?”

Fear spikes through you again. Not because of the question, because of how calm he sounds asking it.

The room suddenly feels much smaller and you hide the phone behind you away from their view.

Jian looks between us, tension pulling across his face. “Haoran—”

“No,” Haoran interrupts quietly, eyes fixed on me. “Because I've waited long enough for her, she should learn her place.”

Your thumb fumbles blindly against your phone screen behind your back.

Emergency call.

Just one button.

Just one—

Jian notices first.

His eyes widen. “Wait—”

You make a run for it. Rushing into the living area, trying to find anything you could use to stop them, but there's nothing that could. Haoran's body slams into you, knocking you face first onto the couch. His whole body is holding you down, the weight of him making it hard to breathe. His hands each hold a wrist onto the smooth fabric as he grinds his hips into the plush of your ass.

You're sobbing, trying so hard to move, anything at all, but you can't. You feel Jian's presence beside you, ripping your phone away and dropping it with an echoing clatter. You're this helpless under just one man, what could you do against two?

Jian crouches down where you can see him. "You can make it easy on yourself or you can live the rest of your life with that video following you wherever you go. Forget about future boyfriends, your dream job, even your family won't be able to look at you when we're done."

Haoran laughs, "future boyfriend? She won't even get that far, no man would want a slut who cums when two guys hold her down and fuck her." His voice is haunting in your ear as he grinds you into the couch making your hip bones ache from the pressure.

Haoran then lifts you up only to sit down in your place. Jian's hands are instantly on you, unlacing your top while Haoran unzips your skirt.

You're trembling but you don't fight anymore. What choice do you have? This was happening right now whether you wanted it to or not, the video was just insurance that this wouldn't be the last time.

Haoran's serious expression is finally gone, replaced by his familiar easygoing smile. He's watching your defeated cooperation and he's basking in it.

Jian begins peppering kisses down your neck. The skin is so sensitive there but he begins nipping at it then licks away the sting. His hands reach up to cup both breasts, palms kneading while his thumbs brush the tips of your nipples. One hand pinches then twists and you squeeze your eyes shut, weakly trying to drag his arm off of you.

Jian hums approvingly, "personally, I like it when you fight."

Haoran's hands come forward to grip the backs of your thighs, he guides you to straddle his hips as Jian's hands glide to rest on your throat and shoulder. He gives it a squeeze before gently kissing the top of your head.

Haoran's pants were already unzipped and his boxers were shoved down to free his erection. It came up to your belly button, leaking precum and striking another wave of fear through you.

Jian's hands slithered to grip your sides, hoisting you up until you felt Haoran's tip prodding your entrance.

"Please you guys, please don't make me do this." You plead feeling broken.

"Shhh, it's okay." Jian reassures as he eases you downward onto Haoran's shaft. Still slick from their sick fun last night, you go down smoothly. The slowness in which Jian lowers you multiples every sensation as sparks wrack up your body.

You let out a choked sob as your hands reach out to steady yourself on the back of the couch. Haoran begins rocking up into you, hands on your hips to move you back and forth with a groan.

“You’re so much better than I could’ve imagined. I had to work so hard not to shove my dick in your pretty pussy while I watched Jian pump you dry last night.”

Jian laughs from behind you while gathering your hair into one ponytail. He softly scratches your scalp to ensure he gets every strand. He then uses it to tug your head back, giving him an entrance to gently kiss you. His other hand returns to your throat again, squeezing and relaxing and then squeezing again like he's playing an instrument. His lips are wet and cold but the kiss heats up as he swirls his tongue with yours. He's biting your lip then sucking before he moves to lick the tip of your ear. Tongue flicking downward, Jian starts suck on your earlobe as the lack of oxygen makes you feel lightheaded.

This intensifies the sensation of Haoran fucking you as he pushes your hips down into him, making your clit grind against his pubic bone with each thrust.

You cry out when Haoran pumps into you particularly deep and the feeling of him hitting your back wall causes goosebumps to form.

Jian pushes your head forward so that your face rests in the crook of Haoran's collarbone. You listen to him unzipping his jeans and spitting into his hand before the wet sound of him pumping himself is heard.

It mixes in with the obscene noises coming from Haoran and you as his arms hold yours to your sides in a tight grasp.

Jian spits again, but this time it lands on your lower back, dripping down and over that tight ring of muscle. Instantly, you try to sit up, pushing off of the couch and against Haoran, but his arms get tighter like a python.

"No! Stop! Please— not there, you can't! I can’t!" You protest and writhe in Haoran's arms, but it’s ignored as Jian's thumb is rubbing circles before pushing in.

"NO!" You scream out. Jian's thumb slips slowly in and out then he hooks it to massage up on your insides. It glides back out to the opening before pressing the muscle to the side, prying it open. Jian spits again, wetting the hole once more before you feel it.

The unmistakable blunt head pressing and rubbing, wanting entrance and not asking for it.

Your hands ball into fists as you sob into Haoran. “It’s okay, shh, it’s okay. You can do this, just relax.” His hand now moves across your back in consoling circles, but you're so tense, every muscle is taut in anticipation.

Jian pushes in as the burning pain melts with the overwhelming feeling of fullness. Haoran has stopped moving, letting Jian work his way into you first. It's agonizing as he continues, every time you think he was done, he'd keep pushing deeper. He's groaning in approval, peppering kisses down the back of your neck. Finally, when he's bottomed out, he thrusts slowly, once, then twice. Until he falls into a predictable rhythm.

Haoran now resumes his movement, using his hands to guide you up and down both of them. They leave you empty only to both fill you up in an instant. Jian begins going off pace, grabbing your ass and squeezing it roughly. He spreads the cheeks apart, causing a burning stretch on your already abused hole.

You can feel them rubbing against each other in you. When one left, the other was filling you, it was an endless and inescapable sensation.

Haoran grabs your breasts, massaging one while popping the other into his mouth. His tongue swirls over your nipple, matching the rhythm of his thrusts and driving you up a wall.

It was all too much, too much everywhere, you were being fucked in both holes. Jian leans over to be flushed against your back, hand gripping your shoulder to make their thrusts deeper than before. The weight of him served as a reminder of how trapped you were. Sandwiched between the two men you thought could've trusted with anything. How did everything change so quickly?

You felt that familiar feeling rise up in you. It was so wrong, the way that you were getting tighter around them and wetter with the thought of how helpless you were, but you couldn't stop it.

"She's squeezing me so tight, I don't know how much longer I can last." Haoran's voice is strained, you can see his eyebrows furrow in concentration.

"Little princess is about to cum again isn't she? Fully awake, sober, and aware. You wanted this all along didn't you?" Jian taunts. You try to shake your head no, but the action falls short when Jian thrusts harder into you, a fast and brutal pace causing you to bounce harder on Haoran.

A moan escapes your lips as you try to focus on staving off your orgasm, your knuckles are white and you work to think of anything else but nothing they're doing makes it easier.

Your back arches and pleasure explodes in you without your permission. You spasm, shaking and moaning involuntarily with each wave of the orgasm that washes through you. Haoran is right there with you, erratic in his thrusts before shoving himself as deep as he can get, like he wants to paint the inside of your womb. His dick twitches with each rope of cum he shoots out and your belly feels warm and icky.

Jian continues, prolonging the satisfaction of your orgasm, but soon joins with some final harsh thrusts. 

He rests above you, breathing hard and keeping you plugged a while longer with both him and Haoran. Then with a quick wet sound, he pulls out and you feel the sticky liquid running down your thigh. He lifts you off of Haoran and gently sets you down on the empty side of the couch. Haoran is still panting but he casts his eyes to you, curled up into a ball with both of their hard work dripping out of you.

You can only watch as your best friends, Haoran and Jian, smile at each other.

[obsession4uu]

MASTERLIST

Every story includes explicit and mature themes like smut, Yandere characters, and dark psychological romance. These posts are intended for 18+ readers only, so please respect that. Each story contains content warnings, reader discretion is advised.

Born a Winner

After ending things with the perfect boyfriend, you think the worst part is over. Chaiya, adored by everyone—and impossible to truly understand until you were alone with him. But men like Chaiya don’t accept rejection. They don’t lose. As strange incidents begin piling up around your apartment, you convince yourself you’re just paranoid. Then one drunken night changes everything. Trapped in the place you once felt safest, you’re forced to confront the terrifying truth: Chaiya never moved on— he was only waiting for the moment you’d stop looking over your shoulder.

Wallflower

Painfully ordinary, you've spent your whole life blending into the background— until Amir, a charismatic new transfer student, arrives and fixates on you with unsettling intensity. What first feels like awkward flirting soon spirals into obsession as Amir begins inserting himself into every corner of your routine, watching, waiting, refusing to be ignored. Trapped alone with him during a stormy night, you realize too late that the attention you never wanted may become something you can’t escape.

Best Friends

After overhearing your two best friends discussing a mysterious “plan”, you begin noticing the unsettling ways Jian and Haoran orbit your life. What starts as guilt over one friend’s hidden crush spirals into something far darker after a drunken clubbing night leaves you waking up bruised, terrified, and trapped in Haoran’s apartment with fragmented memories and two men who have become dangerously obsessed with keeping you theirs.

Male-Dominated Field

In a male-dominated computer science program, fitting in feels impossible— until three attractive classmates pull you into their tight-knit group. Late-night coding sessions, gaming marathons, and sharp-tongued banter slowly make them feel like home. But the closer you get to Ayaan, Ezana, and Jaime, the more their attention shifts from friendly to predatory. You begin to realize that you were never truly “one of the guys”.

On the Silver Screen

As an unknown actress, you finally land your big break starring in a rising nepo-baby director’s indie horror film— but behind the glamorous promise of Hollywood lies something far more sinister. As filming begins, the line between performance and reality starts to blur, trapping you in a nightmare where power and exploitation become horrifyingly real.

[obsession4uu]

Wallflower

CW: m!yandere x afab!reader, dead dove do not eat, noncon, hair pulling, unprotected sex, physical violence, psychological, school setting, breaking & entering Word Count: 3.2k

I've always led a mundane life. It's hard not to when you're so painfully average. I look average, I'm average height, score average grades, have a few friends, was born a middle child, and so, I coasted through my youth unnoticed.

It's not as bad as it sounds. Being a wallflower may mean no attention, but attention can be as rewarding as it is punishing. So I was comfortable in my mediocrity.

Every day went the same like a well oiled machine:

Get dressed in the school uniform

Take the bus to school

Attend class

Have lunch

Attend class

Take the bus home

And I think life could've continued this way if it weren't for our school's newest transfer student, Amir.

It was during the morning silent study time when he rolled into my homeroom. The uniform's dark green tie was loose around his neck and the white button up was a button more open than it should've been.

I studied him from my seat. A rule-breaker, a stand-out personality, I thought to myself. He approached our teacher, Mr. Parker, and together, they discussed in hushed voices while pointing to his schedule. A few students had taken notice of the new presence too, causing whispers to buzz around the room. Yet out of all of them his gaze dragged up from the paper schedule and found mine.

The side of his lip curved up and his stare felt somehow predatory. He was only meeting my eyes but I felt a shiver run down my spine. I wasn't used to this.

"Attention class!" Mr. Parker stood up with two silencing claps. "As you may have noticed, we have a new student joining us. This is Amir Al-Masri." Amir raises his arm in a short wave that commands all attention to him. He's tall and built, unapologetic in the way he takes up space.

"Please welcome him kindly as he's new to both the school and country." Mr. Parker turns to speak with just Amir again and gestures towards an empty desk diagonally behind mine. Amir's smile grows when he spots his seat, vision darting to me and then back. He reaches the desk within 4 confident strides.

I can't help but follow him with my eyes, everyone does.

The days passed without incident, but I couldn't shake the feeling of him watching me. Telling pinpricks would travel down my side but when I mustered the courage for a glance back, his eyes would be glued to his notebook and his hand engrossed in writing.

It felt ridiculous to even think it, why would he bother to watch me? Why not any of the prettier, more interesting girls surrounding me? I'm not special enough to be growing such an ego. But again, when I remembered the way he stared that first day, my pulse still quickened.

"Hey." A relaxed voice came from behind me. I turned around but already recognized who it was. Amir.

I stiffened in my seat, a bench that sat on the edge of the school grounds. I'd regularly have lunch here when my friends attended their clubs. It was peaceful and quiet, tucked away in the shadows behind the school.

Amir joined me without asking and let the uncomfortable silence linger first before breaking it.

"You always seem to get away before I get the chance to talk with you. Are you avoiding me?" He asked and leaned back lazily. You meet his eyes in shock at how blunt he is.

There's a million excuses you can give, explanations you could fabricate, but you were avoiding him and he knew it.

"I'm not" you lie simply, hoping it sounds steadier than you feel.

He tilts his head and laughs softly. Amir's gaze is so intense you feel like you're burning from the inside out and you have to rip your eyes away to breathe normally again. Settling on your hands, you fidget with the chopsticks held in them.

"You really keep to yourself, huh? I'm not here to hurt you." He says but it feels like a trick.

Steeling your resolve, you close your lunch and stand up suddenly. "I'll see you in class." You hurriedly say without taking a glance at how he reacts.

But you can feel the pinpricks marring your skin on your whole way back to the school entrance.

It was a contrasting unease that settled regarding Amir.

"He's totally evil, but the best hot guys are!" Your friend jokes. "Mmm, maybe, but he's also super charming. He was so nice about me knocking his water bottle over and denting it. " Your other friend squeals, covering her face in embarrassment at the memory.

"Wait, you're so right. Y'know what you should do? You should totally get him a new one. It can be the start of a romance!" They giggle and plot amongst each other but I don't join because I can't help thinking they've got Amir all wrong.

That's when he began taking the same bus as me. Amir's familiar eyes locked on mine when I finished tapping my bus pass. I froze for only a second before searching the benches for an empty seat. Pinpricks tickled my neck but I played music louder to drown them out.

When the bell tolled signalling a school day's end, he stood closely in line behind me at the nearby bus stop.

"Hello birdie, will you keep avoiding me forever?" Amir taunted playfully.

Fellow classmates take notice of our conversation and I can see the question in their expression: 'since when were they friends?'

'We're not! Please get him away from me!' I wanted to scream out. But instead I smiled, "I told you, I'm not."

"Okay, then which cafe are we going to?" He asked innocently. The bus arrived at the stop with a mechanical groan. Doors whooshed open as riders began shuffling in. "What're you talking about?" I asked with furrowed brows.

"Our first date. Would you rather somewhere else?" Amir's pleasant smile was so infuriating it made my heart begin to race with anger.

"I'm not going to a cafe, I'm going home." I said, letting my frustration show. His smile widened to bare his teeth.

"A first date at your place is quite forward, are you sure?" "Stop it, you know what I meant." I hiss and shove my earbuds in while taking the second seat of an occupied bench.

I simmered in anger for the rest of the day.

What was he trying to do? Was he actually flirting or playing a prank on me? The popular boy asks out the loser as a bet?

I'm obviously not a Queen Bee, but I've never been outright bullied before. The interaction left a sour taste, but I guess it's expected of high schoolers to be cruel.

In hindsight, I should've taken Amir more seriously than just a boy stupidly flirting.

Fweet, fweet. A short whistle caught my attention as I searched for its origin. No one was there though as I returned to opening my home's front door.

Silence welcomed me as I set my bookbag down. My parents were attending my younger brother's orchestra performance a few cities over and my older sister had been out of town ever since moving out for university.

The house was left for just me.

After changing into pyjamas, I began preparing dinner. I chopped vegetables evenly when the doorbell rang. A whimsical tune played but it was menacing when home alone.

Peeping through a slit in the window curtain, I tried to get a glimpse of who rang, but all I could make out was an arm.

Sighing, I made my way to the door and pulled it open, but was only met with howling wind.

Glancing around, I felt a small pang of fear but pushed it down and hastily shut the door. Sliding the dead bolt that my family hadn't used in ages.

After dinner, the television played, acting as soothing background noise to accompany the branches that drummed against the outer house walls. The characters made a joke and my snort blended into the added laugh track.

I move to fill my kettle and drop a fresh teabag in a mug in anticipation.

DING DONG

The doorbell chimed again. This time, I was only getting annoyed and ignored the tune.

BANG! BANG!

A cold draft filled the house as I heard the door thud against its straining deadbolt. Rushing out I stare at the slightly open metal door, but it's only me here.

I push it closed again and move the nearby ottoman to hold it in place.

God, this windstorm is brutal.

A buzzing begins in my pocket and I fish out my phone. A call from an unsaved number flashes at the top and I answer expecting a scam call.

"Why didn't you answer the door?"

Amir's voice is on the other side of the line. I could now recognize it after being in the same class for months.

"Amir?" I ask anyways out of sheer confusion.

"Why are you—?" I begin but I hear two chimes that tell me the call's ended.

My pulse is quicker than I'm comfortable with and a sheen of sweat now coats my skin.

"Hello? Amir?" I warily call out into the empty house, afraid of an answer.

My kettle then screeched in a high pitch, beckoning me to return to the kitchen. I take it off the burner but move to grab a knife rather than fill my waiting mug.

I slowly tiptoe halfway up the stairs while trying to unlock my phone. It asks for the code and I clumsily enter it when I hear that same whistle from before.

Fweet, fweet.

I’m frozen in place. It's silent except for my scared heavy breathing and the faint murmur of the TV. This wasn't a noise outside of the house, it was inside here with me now.

"Little birdy, why do you always avoid me?" his voice is singsong and laced with unsaid threat.

My vision fixates upwards. Amir looks larger than life as he looms over me from the top of the staircase. I stumble back like his presence physically pushed me and begin sprinting back down the steps.

I forget my plan to call emergency services in the chaos of things as I focus on not tripping down the stairs.

However, in the time it took for me to recover, Amir already began bounding down too and catches me as soon as my feet reach the landing.

He yanks my arm behind my back with one hand and catches my wrist with the other. My phone slips from my sweaty grip and my hands can only hold on by a weak pinch.

The large knife is comically useless as I writhe in his grip with hope that its silver tip will scrape against Amir's skin.

"I don't like being ignored." He growls low in my ear. It's scary that I can't see him but it's also a relief not having to face him.

"Be smart and drop the weapon, my pretty girl, you can't get out of my hold." He says and my anger bubbles from the truth in his words.

After its loud clatter to the ground, he kicks the knife across the room, too far for either of us to reach.

Spinning me towards him, he raises my arm and I watch as he rips my phone away, shuts it off, and slides it beside the knife.

"Amir, why are you doing this to me?" The question comes out more like a plea. It's his turn to ignore me as he pushes me to the ground. The cold tile feels strangely good on my burning skin.

Tears blur my vision as my mind races with ideas of all the things Amir may do to me. Amir calmly reaches up and wipes my eyes clear.

"Watch me closely, okay?"

I don't agree but I don't object either, holding my breath while I wait for his next move.

His hands move to the hem of my shirt, travelling under it to explore the bare skin. I cry out and move to push Amir off, to bring my shirt back down and hide what he's trying to reveal.

He pushes one of my defensive arms down and crushes my palm under the weight of his knee. Pain explodes while he moves to knead my breast.

Tears spill out and I push with my free hand against him. Amir's hand wipes them, clearing my vision again and making me glance towards his face instead.

His eyes are alight with excitement as he searches all around my face, as if savouring the expression. It's like Amir is fuelled by all of the visceral fear I have of him and he can't stop watching how my face contorts in reaction to his ministrations.

His other hand pinches my nipple and I yelp out, trying to curve away, but his fingers only spread out to rub the tips of both nipples at the same time. The sensation is so overwhelming I squirm to get away, but it's futile. There's nowhere to run and my hand is pinned down. I'm in a hopeless situation.

I sob and twist my head to the side where my phone and knife lay. I feel so helpless as the impossibility of grabbing either beats down on me. Amir's hand grips my jaw harshly and the insides of my cheeks hurt against my teeth.

"I told you to keep looking at me." Amir reminds me. I don't respond and he swings his hand back to deliver a vicious slap before bringing my head back to facing him with his hand.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, please!" I cry out in hopes it will garner his mercy.

Amir's hand leaves my chest to my waistband. "Please, stop, —not there! I don't want to, —you can't!" I plead. I'm shaking my head vigorously but my stare doesn't leave his like he asked.

"Don't worry baby, you'll enjoy it. Even delicate little flowers like you. They always do." The sobbing becomes wails as I shake my head in protest still.

Amir's fingers claw their way under both my flimsy shorts and my underwear waistband.

He releases my jaw to raise my hips while the other hand pulls away my bottoms. He shifts his weight while doing so and my hand springs free from under his knee. Pins and needles attack every movement but both of my hands grip my waistband trying to hold on to my dignity.

He strikes my face again in a deafening strike that leaves my ears ringing. In a swift movement, I'm completely bare on my bottom.

The increase in contact with the cold tile cannot be ignored as Amir pushes my bent knees to my chest. The image of how I must look right now flashes in my mind.

Hair wild and tear streaks, both dry and wet, lining my cheeks. My shirt didn't protect me from the cool air as it was pushed all the up to my neck. My thighs, although clamped shut, did nothing to hide my cunt that was on full display.

And Amir, the boy every seemed captivated by, only wanted to look at me in this state of ruin that he caused.

He drags a finger down my slit, catching my clit on the way down and back up again. Shockwaves of pleasure send through me and I cry out of shame.

He smiles knowingly.

Amir's hand stops pushing my knees back and moves to gently pet my clit with the pad of his thumb. The finger that was travelling up and down begins circling my entrance, gathering up slick as it dripped out.

I can't tear my eyes away from the face of my torturer. He pushes the finger in and massages everywhere inside. He's so detailed, like he can't leave any part untouched.

"Sweet girl, you're so nice like this. Getting so wet for me, it's kind of you to show me how much you like me." He coos.

"I didn't want any of this." I grit out, scared that if I relax my teeth, a moan may slip out.

"Yes you did, you just couldn't admit it. You were scared of rejection, weren't you? But it's okay, you don't have to be tough anymore, you have me where you want me." Amir's words are so haunting. Nothing I could say would change his mind. To him, every bit of careful attention he paid my cunt was attention I had secretly longed for.

I wanted to hide away, to sink into the floor and to blend in with the walls. I was a wallflower after all, this wasn't the treatment I was primed for.

I tried to ignore Amir's touch, but it became increasingly difficult as one finger became two, then three, then the unzipping of his jeans rang out and the bulbous head was wetting itself with my own traitorous slick.

The burning stretch was unbearable as he slid his way in. I think he would've gone faster, if he could've, but I couldn't accommodate his size the way he wanted. He groaned in pleased satisfaction anyways.

Once bottomed out, he dragged himself slowly out, the ridge of his tip grating against my walls excruciatingly slow. It caused chills of unwanted pleasure to erupt down my spine. When Amir was almost all the way out, he slammed back in, then again, and again, brutally slow but unmistakably hard.

His thumb continued on my clit, other fingers resting on my bladder and pushing down to increase the pressure building in me.

Amir's pace grew unpredictable, suddenly unforgiving in its speed before turning into harsh thrusts that shook my body with each one.

He wouldn't let me just fade away, he had to make sure I was present for every thing he was forcing me to feel.

The pressure kept building and building with every flick of his thumb pad and thrust that hit deep inside my back wall. I felt a shiver with each one and an imaginary coil twist tighter. His hand moved from keeping me in pace to rubbing the flat tips of my nipples again. It was so much sensation, so much pleasure, I was reaching the brink of my dignity.

Amir laughs, causing me to meet his eyes once again. His smile told me exactly how he was feeling, triumphant. The same question from before played in my mind: why would someone do this to me? The pang of hurt and frustration mixed in with the pleasure that he was causing in such a cruel way.

I finally broke out in electrical waves as my release shook through me. Tightening around Amir and squeezing him to orgasm as well. He pulls out, and leaves my nipples to pump himself with his fist while still continuing his onslaught on my clit. The aftershocks of pleasure are fading but Amir keeps working me through it.

Hot thick white ropes land on my stomach and breasts. He uses the lubrication to drag his fingers to my nipple. Circling around the nub as I twitch and flutter around nothing.

Amir can’t stop looking at me, a wallflower, ripped from its vine and soiled on the ground.

[obsession4uu]

Born a Winner

CW: m!yandere x afab!reader, dead dove do not eat, noncon, ex-partner, unprotected sex, hair pulling, breathplay, praise, physical violence, stalking, degradation, psychological, breaking & entering, oral (f!receiving) Word count: 2.9k

Chaiya never liked losing.

You could tell by the rows of medals and trophies that lined his childhood bedroom walls. Whether it was soccer matches, tennis tournaments, his school Spelling Bee, you name it, he's won it. Hell, it's even in his name, Chaiya, ไชยา, victory. He was born a winner.

That was something that attracted me to him when our friends first introduced us. I was tired of dating unambitious loser after loser. If their future was so bleak, what would my future with them be like? Chaiya wasn't like that, he was headstrong, capable, and confident. But with time, his confidence became an unyielding pride that made everything his way or the highway.

Soon, a year together passed and it was a year too long. So as I watched the New Year's fireworks embellish the night sky, I decided there's no better time to start anew and end things off with Chaiya.

It was a hard conversation that would've lasted forever if Chaiya had it his way, but I eventually left him alone in the cafe when our friend, Malee, arrived.

"I just can't believe it, you guys seemed so happy. Don't take this the wrong way but Chaiya's like- the perfect boyfriend." Malee said, mouth full of ice cream and lazily sat in the reclined driver's seat.

I sighed and stirred my melting dessert. I didn't bother explaining myself again because it was hard enough for me to realize Chaiya's personality switch behind closed doors, so I didn't expect our friends to understand.

Though after this, Chaiya didn't give up. At first, he acted like it was just an argument that went too far. He would wait outside my apartment door or visit my part time retail job. It was difficult to avoid someone who knew me so well. But I only grew increasingly frustrated as he ignored the breakup and pleaded to me as "my boyfriend". He was sweet and charming, like he always was to everyone, but I knew better than to trust his saccharine taste. After all, added sugar doesn't erase salt.

And soon enough, his gentle pleas became accusations of infidelity, incessant name calling, and constant reminders that I 'will never find better than him'. This went on for 2 weeks through No Caller IDs and new emails until everything went radio silent.

Malee told me he recently went out with our friends and even flirted with girls there. "I'm glad to hear he's moving on, I was worried that he wasn't taking the break up well" I told her, and I meant it truthfully.

"Right? Y'know, I honestly didn't know what to expect, since you guys dated for so long. But I guess he's always gotten so much attention from girls and besides, you know how Chaiya is." Malee responded.

It should've been comforting that he'd stopped contacting me and was moving on, but Malee's words kept replaying in my head, 'you know how Chaiya is'.

She's right, I do know how Chaiya is, and I know that he hates losing.

So maybe that's why I continued to feel on edge. Because even though I felt delusional, I could've sworn there was someone watching me as I walked to my car after a closing shift. My heart pounded under the pressure of watchful eyes, but when I stopped to look around, no one was there. I was too aware of everything and it was driving me insane.

I had to do something to calm myself, and what's better than a home-cooked comfort meal? The aroma of pad kaprao warmed my apartment in a way it hadn't been in ages. Suddenly, a loud knock came from my door and I froze.

Eyes wide and zoned in on the rectangular frame, I slowly crept towards it.

It's okay, as long as I'm in here, he can't hurt me.

I raised my eye cautiously to the peephole, but no one stood there. What? This is so weird.

"SMOKE DETECTED, BEEP BEEP, SMOKE DETECTED"

I spun on my heel realizing how quickly the room was filling with grey smoke. I coughed and swung my arm around wildly, moving the pan off the burner, cracking the kitchen window, and turning on the overhead fan to max power.

"Are you kidding me?!" I yelled out in frustration. Of course, even when I try to do something nice for myself, it fails. My hands rubbed my face in exhaustion. I haven't been getting much sleep and it's starting to show.

"Ramen, it is" I muttered while stabbing the now blackened crust under my once-brown chicken. Opening the door, a pink pamphlet for a local church fluttered to the ground.

Maybe I really am being delusional, I can't believe I thought Chaiya was still trying to get back together.

I grabbed my favourite ramen pack at the convenience store and returned to my place in record time. Placing my keys back on its rack, when something caught my eye.

Or I guess it was the lack of something. My spare apartment key, the one I always kept hung there, was gone. I dropped to my knees searching the surrounding area, but sure enough, it was gone like it never existed.

A sweat built on my palms as I rushed to the cracked kitchen window. Sliding it shut hastily, I grabbed a knife and cautiously checked the bedroom, the closet, the bathroom, but there was no one.

Malee told me the stress of the breakup was getting to me.

"It's normal. When I broke up with Kamon, I would still think he was next to me when I was falling asleep- could feel him there and everything! But I promise, everything will be okay. If it makes you feel better, Chaiya has been talking to a new girl, so I'm sure you have nothing to worry about." Malee comforted. Well, her words were supposed to be comforting, but I couldn't shake the nerves in my gut.

Her eyes were so sincere, though, that I just smiled. "Yeah, you're right, thank you for listening to me." She empathetically shook her head and the conversation moved on as if we had been discussing the weather.

And as time passed, I began to believe it. It had already been a month since I broke up with Chaiya and things were feeling normal again.

A night out won't hurt, I think to myself as I get ready to go clubbing with Malee. Chaiya moved on and so can I. And so I make no attempt to push away the strong hands on my waist of a man I only met an hour ago. The buzz of alcohol tickled my face but I grinned at Malee as we lazily swayed to the blaring music.

By the time it was 3 AM, I managed to stumble my way back to my apartment building, fumbling with the keys outside the unit door and dropping them in my drunken stupor.

I let out a groan and reach down to pick them up when the door swings open by itself.

I stand up to greet an all-to-familiar face. It's Chaiya, I'm sure it's Chaiya. I've had too daydreams pining over it, spent too many nights beside it, and have taken too many looks-over-my-shoulder fearing it to not know it.

But how could he be here? In my apartment where he hasn't been for weeks now?

I didn't have time to think about the truth of this situation because Chaiya's hand wraps around my wrist in a bruising grip and yanks me so hard my shoulder feels like it might dislocate.

My hands pry at his to release myself but his hold grows tighter. So tight that I feel the burn of my cinching skin under his rough fingers. "What are you doing? You're hurting me!" I shout.

"You seriously went to the club? Fucking slut, I knew it." Despite his harsh words, his voice is so stern and level that compared to mine, I feel like a child. He always had a way of making me feel small.

"So what? You've already moved on, why do you care?" I retort.

The alcohol made everything still hazy, like a nightmare I had to wake up from but couldn't pull myself out of. Chaiya's hand darts out to grip my chin and force my eyes towards his. They were wide, crazed, with his pupils dilated. I could see veins pump with pressure and pain exploded in my jaw where he held.

My eyes widen as my fear sobered me up. Chaiya is here and he's angry.

"How... how did you get in?" I whisper, afraid that speaking too loudly might trigger something bad, but knowing in my gut that I was already screwed.

He spun me and shoved me onto the couch, my head banging against the hard armrest. Searing white pain blinds my vision for a second as I try to recover, but it's a critical second I've just lost. Chaiya has my arms pinned above me and even with just one hand, his winning athletic prowess makes this no competition.

I try to buck him off of me with my hips but he pins my thighs apart with his legs and it's no use.

My heart sinks as the direness of the situation sets in. This is a fight he's not going to lose.

"Do you really think you're better than me or something? I can be with anyone and I choose you, shouldn't you show some gratitude?" he spits out.

I open my mouth to respond but his free hand is quick to deliver a punishing strike to my cheek. I'm silenced out of fear as tears begin to blur my vision.

"That's a good girl." He praises as the hand that just struck me softly tucks a loose hair strand.

"Good girls stay silent, good girls listen, and good girls show gratitude. You'll come to learn this." Chaiya continues.

I look at him pleadingly, I know he knows what I'm asking. 'Please, stop this.' But I don't dare say a word fearing the hand that's now slowly caressing my face.

He smiles satisfied as the hand moves down my neck, to my bare arms. They instantly cover with goosebumps and he chuckles. "Are you cold? Is the temperature bothering you?"

I open my mouth to reply out of instinct but flinch as his hand raises in warning. Closing it quickly he returns to his gentle touch and smirk.

"Y'know, if it's so cold, you shouldn't leave your windows open, don't you know that?"

Of course. Of fucking course. All that time spent convincing myself I was overthinking and of course it was him all along. How long had he been planning this? How long had he been watching me? Was he ever here when I was? I never even knew it, I thought this was the one place I was safe.

"You're so helpless, you should just let me take care of you. I can keep you warm", he whispers caringly.

He's so caught up in his own glory that he doesn't realize his grip on my arms is loosening but I take the opportunity to quickly slip out and head-butt him in the nose. The pain is immediate but Chaiya is so shocked that he jumps off of me in an instant.

Without thinking, I race to the first open door, my bedroom, and slam the door shut. I move to lock it but it hits me that the doorknob is missing.

I throw myself against it to keep it shut the best I can. Chaiya's approaching footsteps sound as loud as my heartbeat and distract me while I try to plan my escape.

"Open the door." He commands, but just one push against the door is enough to seal my fate.

I'm tumbling backwards and don't bother to look as I try to get back up on my feet. He's one step ahead as his foot slams down on my hair, pinning me to the ground as pain shoots across my scalp. I'm desperate to push him off but he crouches down to meet my gaze.

"Good girls listen. Stop acting out." Chaiya lifts his foot and takes me up with him. He walks me backwards until I feel the foot of my bed behind me.

"Sit." He orders, and I do. What choice do I have?

He takes my top off first, then my skirt. I lay back to assist him and feel the fight leave my body as my head throbs and my stomach twists.

By now, my face is a mess. The mascara and eyeliner I meticulously applied has streamed down my face, but Chaiya doesn't seem to mind the view with the way he smiles down at me approvingly.

His hand, as warm as he promised, feels like it burns me as it presses against my clit. The way he moves is so familiar I can't help the surge of pleasure that courses through my core. Hot shame tints my cheeks red but I can't look away.

His fingers are so gentle as they back and forth over my underwear. He's so soft it's hard to fight how good it feels. The flimsy fabric easily moves to the side as he slips a finger in and pumps slowly.

"God, you're just as wet as the first time I fucked you. You know you love me. You know you always will." Chaiya taunts.

A whimper escapes me and I can't tell if it's from fear or pleasure.

The pace quickens as I feel wetness begin to soak the fabric that pathetically covers me. It almost feels more embarrassing that he's touching me with my undergarments still on. It's like nothing could've stopped him from what he wanted.

Chaiya adds a finger and begins scissoring them inside me. I can feel him massaging upwards and the sensation is so much I try to ground myself by grasping the sheets underneath me.

It's no help as he continues to work my clit and massage inside me. I bite my lip to stifle my moans, as if refusing him that is a small victory.

But my glance flickers to his face and Chaiya frowns. He pulls away in an instant and my body can't help but miss him but I try not to let it show.

He brings back his fingers to massage even deeper than before, I yelp out of surprise as he moves back to lower his face close to my clit.

I try to move back but Chaiya's free arm wraps around my thigh and holds my hips close to his face. His tongue darts out to lick the wet fabric and he is unrelenting. Horror builds along with my orgasm and I can taste my lip bleeding as I will myself to stop it. But I fail and the orgasm crashes through me without my permission.

I'm still fluttering around his fingers as Chaiya takes them out and flips me onto my knees. The pleasure is short-lived as my face is pushed into the mattress. His pants are already down and I can feel him lining himself up behind me.

"Wait. Wait Chaiya, please, I can't I just-" I plead but he's not listening to me as he slams into me. Everything is so slick that there's no resistance and my ears ring with the onslaught of sensation as he enters. I gasp for air and my knuckles turn white gripping the bedsheets.

He starts slowly but as if realizing I'm at his mercy, he becomes so rough that pain spikes with each thrust. "I'm going to bruise you both inside and out. Mark you up so that everyone will know what a used whore you are. No man will ever touch what's mine again." He accentuates his words with a hard grip on my waist.

"Chaiya, please. Please stop, I'm so sensitive, I can't." I beg him and try to push him away from behind me. He lets out an angry growl and moves his grip to my jugular from behind, forcing me upright and making my back arch against him.

I feel lightheaded and overstimulated but his breath tickles my neck as he speaks.

"Say thank you."

Chaiya stops thrusting but his hand works at my swollen and much more sensitive clit and I cry out. I squeeze my eyes closed trying to block out all of the sensation but I can't escape him.

"I won't repeat myself, " He threatens.

My resolve is gone and the words rush to spill from my lips.

"Thank you, thank you Chaiya, please, I'm sorry." He releases my neck and I fall forward with a scratchy gasp. Chaiya has the nerve to let out a laugh as his hand strikes my ass and massages it afterwards.

He returns to his unforgiving pace but I'm grateful that his hand has left my clit.

Chaiya pushes my hips down and I'm sandwiched between the bed and his chest. He takes advantage of the proximity and lowers his voice in my ear.

"What do good girls do?"

"Stay silent." I answer through clenched teeth.

"And?"

"Listen."

"And?"

A sob slips out before I can bring myself to answer.

"Show gratitude."

I guess I was never meant to win against Chaiya.